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scribbbbbles · 22 days ago

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How Brooklyn Was Brought To Her Knees - Chapter Seven: The Needle

HI CHAT so sorry I forgot I deleted a chapter... SO HERE'S A NEW ONE PLS DON'T BE MAD school is starting up again so offer me some grace these next two or so weeks as I go through tests :(

word count: 4.1k

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A CAR CRASH, DRUG USE, WITHDRAWALS, AND CONTENT RELATED TO ADDICTION. IF THIS IS A NO FOR YOU PLEASE BACK OUT NOW.

PLEASE CHECK THE SERIES MASTERLIST FOR ALL OTHER WARNINGS!!

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Remember how in school you had to sign a D.A.R.E. form? Some oath about respecting your body and other bullshit, after they showed you pictures of blackened lungs and scarily thin meth-heads with missing teeth. I remember coming home after scribbling my name on that piece of paper with my favorite green crayon, and sobbing onto my dad. It was an unspoken thing in my house, his problems. How he put whiskey in his coffee in the morning, and came back from the bathroom with a white dust on the tip of his nose. I wasn’t young enough to not notice, and he was often too high to care. I remember looking up at him and begging in that way only naive, scared kids can. Begging him not to die, not to lose his teeth and his smile and his life; begging him not to leave me alone. I remember how years later he told me that night he threw away the probably hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of substances he had. Every bag of coke, every bottle of dark liquor, every needle of mystery liquid– all of it. He didn’t think twice. I remembered him being really sick, but just believing it was the flu. I remember we watched movies, and he’d smiled.

I wonder why I ever made him stop.

The numbness was intoxicating. A flow so easy it felt unreal. Colors were brighter, everything was funny, and there was no recollection of that damn basement; that fucking chair. So when I woke up and lost hours, days, weeks of time– it was almost comforting in a sick, twisted way. It was familiar, the feel of the needle.

It helped being a Stark; when you had millions you had an unlimited supply. It also helped that people liked when you picked them up in a vintage corvette and let them rip a line off the dash. My weeks quickly consisted of days filled with going to a meeting or two with Dad because I refused to be not included, get high, pick up a few hot people from the club, come home at some point, have a panic attack, maybe puke, and do it all over again. The weight I’d been so proud to put on slowly fell off again, and I started to fumble in training sessions with Nat. She’s cornered me more than a few times about it, but I just bring up the nightmares and she goes real quiet. I don’t mean to be mean to her, I love her. But she doesn’t get this is the only way I can get up in the morning.

God, Dad would be so mad if he knew.

I’ve seen Bucky, Steve, and Sam a few times since then. I managed to keep up appearances long enough to get through those meetings only thrice before I started cancelling them. Bucky’s big, sad blue eyes boring into the side of my face was not helpful, neither was Steve’s kicked puppy look. At least Sam was trying to be normal, but he wasn’t slick with his VA therapy tricks either. I can’t do it. Being around Bucky and his entourage is hard enough sober, let alone itching for a ski trip.

Natasha and I had talked about it, the weird relationship Bucky and I have. And as usual, she was right.

“You’re not in grade school anymore,” she’d said as she went through my closet. “It’s actually probably been longer that you haven’t seen him than you’ve been around him.” I made a noise of uncomfortable agreement.

“I mean I guess you’re right,” I muttered.

“Oh you’re still allowed to be upset,” she’d laughed. “As a neutral party, Barnes is a piece of fucking work now, I can’t imagine the terror he caused as a seven year old.” I laughed at that, the vivid memories of him putting gum in my hair and yanking on my ponytails in hall lines rushing back. It quickly turned to him shoving me off the playground and me breaking my arm, and I turned my brain off.

“As your friend,” she’d continued, holding a silk blue slip dress up to my front and nodding, “you’re entitled to how you feel. But you’ve both clearly been through some shit, and he’s at least trying to reform.” She’d shrugged before turning back to the closet to dig through for shoes. “You’re both adults. It doesn’t erase what happened, but I think 20 year old James is a different beast to the toddler,” she’d winked. “Plus he’s like, really hot now and looks at you like you hung the moon.” I choked on the breath I was trying to take as she said that.

“He does not.” She’d shrugged again, throwing a pair of heels in my direction with scary accuracy to my face. I’d swerved and heard them thud behind me.

“You can be blind to it if you want,” she’d sung in a joking voice, poking a fingertip lightly on my cheek.

“Okay fine, I can manage at least being nice to him,” I laughed. “Thank God I actually enjoy Steve though, he’s great.” Nat had let a sad smile pull at her lips.

“I know,” she’d said softly.

We didn’t address the way she said it almost mournfully. Or the way my neck got hot at the mere thought of Bucky.

And then we went out for the night. And I forgot most of that conversation by the following morning.

This morning? I was fucked. So, royally fucked. I crashed the cherry red corvette in the middle of Brooklyn at nine in the morning. I couldn’t see straight, but all I wanted was the wind in my hair and the weight off my shoulders after another horrible night. I think I broke a few bones, but I didn’t even care as I sobbed so hard I choked. I didn’t know if it was from the snot or the smoke billowing out of the crumpled front of the car. There was glass in my hair. The bottle of Jameson sat spilled on my jeans. All I thought was how mad Dad was going to be. How Pepper was right. I’m a fucking mess. It’s like someone went and bought a puzzle, and they cut all the little connecting pieces off with some scissors. There’s no way to put it back together.

My morning was made exponentially worse when Steve Rogers appeared in front of me.

“Holy shit Y/N!” I blearily looked up at him and blinked, like, a lot.

“Hi Stevie,” I giggled, the name being severely funny for no reason at all. He sighed and ran a hand through his swept back blond hair.

“C’mon, get out of the damn car before it catches on fire,” he said, as he reached out to help me unbuckle my seatbelt when he realized I couldn’t do it. My hands were shaking and I didn’t know if it was from the crash or the nice mix of something my dealer had slipped me. I could not stop laughing, or crying, I probably looked insane. I vaguely recognized camera flashes. There was a steady crowd of people gathering around and I kind of heard what sounded like Sam Wilson go ‘oh fuck’ before yelling at the crowd drawing.

“Torres! Help Sam!” Steve yelled to the young, very attractive, hispanic man who rushed out after Sam.

“He’s cute,” I slurred as Steve fireman carried me out of the car. He squeezed me roughly.

“Not the time.”

“Ohhhh someone’s angry,” I poked his cheek with my finger and saw the blood dripping down my arm. The small sober part of the back of my brain recognized that this would hurt like a bitch when it all wore off. I stared at the blood spot I left on Steve’s perfectly smooth cheek. He ran his eyes over my figure as he turned me away from the crowd that Sam and the hottie were barely holding at bay.

I heard him before I saw him.

“Move!” shouted with an icy authority that caused an almost silence to fall over the crowd of onlookers.

“Where is she?! Where?!” There was a panicked edge to his normally low timbre that shot it up a pitch or two as he roared out the questions. When he appeared in my line of sight he looked… like a wreck. His hair was windswept and blowing in his face as he whipped his head around in a search. His shoulders were held high and almost pinched towards his ears, his whole body pulled that way. His hands were itching to grab something. His tie was fully askew and his shirt was rumpled underneath his equally screwed up suit jacket. He was out of breath, a wild-crazed look fallen over his features. His eyes were so incredibly blue.

He was terribly beautiful.

He ran full speed at Steve, who rolled me into his chest to avoid Bucky’s accidentally violent onslaught of force. I let out an ‘oof’ at the collision and giggled.

“Thank God thank God thank God,” he breathed out over and over as he ran his hands over my arms from where I sat against Steve’s chest. My head was suddenly really heavy to hold up. I laughed again as I let it fall back against the crook of Steve’s elbow. Bucky looked at me like I had gone crazy, then sent the same look to Steve.

“Hiya Buck.”

“I think it’s the shock,” Steve muttered to Bucky as I laughed again. I felt like a million dollars, and Bucky’s cologne made him smell like a great idea.

“Give ‘er here,” Bucky muttered in return, holding out his arms. Steve gave him a look but placed me against his chest anyway.

“Yay!” I exclaimed as I looped my arms around Bucky’s neck. He went absolutely rigid.

“Hiya you,” I murmured into his neck with a smile. I felt his skin against my lips and the taste was more addicting than the percs stashed in the glovebox of the corvette. He was warm and solid and sweet and all I wanted in that moment.

That was the dead giveaway that I was high off my ass.

“Check the car for anything,” Bucky told Steve. I felt his throat vibrate as he spoke and shuddered. “If there is, take it out. Let me know what it is. Call Tony, do not tell him that she’s on something.” Steve nodded, like a good little soldier, and began rifling through the car. I sat up in Bucky’s arms and moved to stand up.

“No no no no no you don’t have to do that–” I slurred out before Bucky pinned me back to his chest.

“We’re gonna take a walk, sweetheart,” he spoke into my ear. His breath smelled like a curl of cigarette smoke. I just started crying again. It all smacked me at once as we walked to a black SUV, and I was placed in the back. I crashed a fucking car in public and had Bucky Barnes as my white knight. Again.

“I’m sorry, God fuck I’m so sorry,” I repeated as I cried into my hands. Bucky was silent as he reached around and grabbed the seat belt to buckle me into the back of the car. He gently moved my hands to make sure it fit right and leaned back slowly when he heard it click.

“I know,” he murmured into my hair. I felt his lips press to my temple. “I know, sweetheart.”

We drove to a brownstone neighborhood deeper into Brooklyn. I stood on wobbly knees as Bucky led me into the house, a hand pressing firmly on my lower back.

“Gotta get you cleaned up doll,” he tells me as he sits me down at a chair in the kitchen. The house is… nice. Like, really nice. Not in the sleek rich person way my house looks– it’s lived in. There are pictures of Bucky and his friends and family on the wall. There’s exposed brick and a fireplace. There’s a record player sat in the corner of the living room surrounded by a wall of vinyls. It’s lots of reds, browns, and blacks, and it’s kind of an industrial style; but it suits him. A vanilla candle’s lit somewhere. It’s warm. Bucky came back from wherever he went with a first aid kit and some towels.

“You like it?” He asked with a small nervous grin as he turned the sink on and began wetting the towels. I whipped my head back to him and quickly looked at the floor.

“It suits you,” I muttered. The whole house reeked of him, and my head was starting to hurt. How much sandalwood and tobacco does one man own? He pulled another chair from his kitchen table and sat in front of me, setting the equipment down.

“I gotta get this glass outta here, so you gotta stay real still for me alright doll?” I just nodded and kept my eyes to the floor. Bucky and I sat in complete silence, the sounds of my quiet sniffles and our breathing echoing throughout the kitchen.

“You’re the only person who’s been here, by the way,” Bucky said, randomly breaking the silence. “I mean, aside from like, Steve, Sam, Tasha and Becca.” I raised an eyebrow.

“You call Nat, Tasha?” My voice is hoarser than I realized. He nodded.

“I dunno why, just always have.” I made a little ‘hmm’ noise at that. I guess I never really thought about their relationship much. But he clearly loves her, he’s got that same relaxed smile that he gets when he talks to Steve. My hands were shaking pretty bad.

“You crashed a car sweetheart,” Bucky murmured, tone somehow aghast and serious at the same time. Almost like he was in as much disbelief about my fuck up as I was.

“Yeah, I guess I did.” I winced as he rubbed the towel over the side of my face, cleaning the blood off.

“I’m sorry, I can’t give you anything for the pain because I don’t know what you took.” He’d said it so matter-of-factly. Like it wasn’t weird or concerning that I was so high.

“You knew?” He chuckled sadly.

“Doll, that was the happiest you’ve ever looked to see me in your life. If you weren’t on anything I’d be concerned about a head injury.” I felt a hot, fat tear roll down my cheek. Bucky brushed it away with his flesh thumb. I let out a watery chuckle.

“I don’t want to hate you, y’know,” I mutter after a beat of silence. Bucky stilled from where he was pasting a butterfly bandage over a decent cut on my forehead. “I just don’t know anything else,” I continued. “Our relationship has always been so cut and dry, you hate me and I hate you.” I laughed half-heartedly. “It was one of the easiest because of that.”

Bucky just continued his work, wiping blood off of me and bandaging whatever he could. He didn’t say a word, just the heavy weight and warmth of his hand roaming my body, his cold metallic one remained pressed on my cheek where I’m assuming a nasty bruise was forming.

“But I haven’t seen you in years. Literal years. Over a decade,” I rambled on. It was definitely the come down of the shock and drugs combined; it was embarrassing but I couldn’t stop. The dam was open. “It’s not fair of me to compare a grown man to a grade school kid. You deserve a fair shot, and I’m starting to feel like a raging bitch for being this rude to you when you’ve come to bat for me literally since we’ve been reintroduced.” He smiled softly at that.

“You’re always a raging bitch, but I’m pretty sure that’s just the Stark genome,” he poked back. I laughed softly and lightly smacked his shoulder. For a second it was just us, in the midday light of Bucky’s kitchen. His hand on my cheek, a smile on his lips, and the warmth of the sun.

“I owe you an apology and a thank you,” I started. Bucky shook his head.

“Clean slate, remember?” I just looked at him. He smiled. “We’ll start it after today. Clean slate. I think I’ve been nice enough to earn my penance.” I smiled at that.

“Yeah, I guess you have.” It fell silent again, as he checked my arms and legs for any damages. He says that he thinks I sprained an ankle and bruised some ribs but nothing serious. I just nod, because frankly it’s starting to hurt like a son of a bitch and I think he’s full of shit. He goes to clean up the bloodied towels and the med kit, and I sit there and look at the tiles of his backsplash. I don’t have my phone, it was in the car. I don’t have my pills, those were in the car. I start biting my nails, it’s a nasty habit but I can’t seem to shake it. Bucky comes back, I hear him muttering on the phone for a second before he walks in and sits back across from me.

“Y’wanna talk about it?” he asks. His accent is thick when he speaks this softly, I notice. I look him in the eyes. His brows are pinched in concern and I can see the waters of the blue churning with worry. I figured if anyone would get it, it’s him. And hey, clean slate right? I never noticed the freckle by his right eye.

“I just wanted it to stop,” I murmured defeatedly. “It’s so loud, it's so much. I can’t sleep, Bucky. I haven’t slept through the night since I was 14.” I swallowed. “I can’t remember anything anyway, so it’s almost comforting, in a weird sick way. I miss feeling nothing. It’s a lot and it hurts.” I clamp my mouth shut before I can say anymore and just cover my face with my hands. My shoulders are shaking with the effort it takes me not to bawl.

I miss the absolute devastation and heartbreak on Bucky’s face. I miss how it crumbles and how he bites the inside of his cheek to keep it together.

I just feel him pull my chair to him and wrap his arms around me. Our knees are slotted, mine, his, mine, his. His chin rests on my head and he makes soft cooing and shushing sounds. He doesn’t tell me it’s okay. He doesn’t say anything for a long while.

“I know,” he mutters; just once.

And I believe him.

Steve found my stash in the car. He wouldn’t tell me what he did with it but I figured he just sold it or gave it to Sam to throw in the harbor. I wasn’t even going to try asking for it back. He didn’t tell Dad how much I had, just that I was on something.

That didn’t matter because FRIDAY would rat me out, but I appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.

For now, for this simple suspended moment in time where I was so high I couldn’t see, I forgave Bucky. And I enjoyed it.

I let myself like how he grabbed a brush his sister had left and detangled my hair. I complimented his surprisingly good braid and enjoyed that it left him red all the way to the tips of his ears. I accepted his offer to change, and I wore his sweatshirt and his sister’s leggings. I admitted I really liked his cologne, but only to myself. I let him talk– about business, about maybe getting a cat, about his dislike of the color of the wall but having no idea what to paint it. I let myself be held, my cheek pressing to his chest where I could feel him speak as much as hear it. I let myself smile at the soft tone of his voice, I let myself like him.

Maybe Natasha was right.

But I still wanted to kill him when he brought me outside.

I always forget that Dad is genuinely feared. He’s just my dad, with his shitty jokes, big smiles, and a weird obsession with Fast And Furious. This was Anthony Stark, the Head of Manhattan.

And he was livid.

His face was pinched tight and his eyebrows were drawn. He stood rigidly straight, shoulders held back and eyes boring into mine. They held no warmth. His mouth was downturned in a deep frown. I felt myself curl back. He was fucking terrifying.

Bucky’s hand never left my back.

“Y/N Marie get in the fucking car.” His voice was a deadly crawl. I could almost see it float up the stairs to me. I swallowed.

“Yes sir.” I started down the stairs, Bucky’s presence following as I walked to the car.

“Don’t help her Barnes,” Dad bit out when he noticed. Bucky didn’t listen. He whispered in my ear as we reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Let me know when you’re home, okay sweetheart?” I nodded.

“Now, Y/N.” I tripped while getting in the car and my whole body got hot. I couldn’t feel my face but I heard Dad’s deep, pissed off sigh and knew the waterworks had started. I had always been an angry crier, it took a lot to make me cry when I was sad. It was always frustration or anger. Not a great trait to have in the mob world, it’s hard to be intimidating when you’re blubbering like a toddler who didn’t get what they want from the grocery store. Bucky must’ve gone to say something about it, or reach for me, or something– I wasn’t looking at him. The leather seat of the SUV was suddenly very interesting.

“Barnes,” Dad’s tone had left no room for argument. “I have zero pity for the fool and so should you. Back away from the fucking car.”

Bucky’s presence slowly drifted off my back. He didn’t acknowledge my dad, just slowly walked back to the stairs of his house, his shoes softly thudding on the concrete. I felt his eyes boring into the back of my head, to the braid he’d just thrown my hair in less than an hour ago. I fought the urge to undo it.

I sat in the car, my hands in my lap and my eyes looking nowhere but them. I heard and felt the door slam, and my very bones jumped. Dad didn’t get in the same car as me. I felt like their prisoner again, waiting to be dragged from place to place. I tried to breathe and the air just felt absent. My hands were wet from the tears that puddled under my chin and dripped off my nose. I gasped and gasped. The driver never turned around, rightfully so. Dad was kind to his workers, they were our family– when they obeyed. I don’t blame him for ignoring me. The car was too small, I didn’t dare open the window. My hands were white from the force at which I kept them interlaced.

We parked in the garage of the Tower. The driver, who I recognized as fucking Happy when finally looking at his face, opened the door. He couldn’t look at me. Fucking traitorous asshole. I stumbled out of the car, head down and shoulders hunched. I heard Pepper’s shrill voice from the elevator doors.

“Tony, I told you this would happen. What did I say to you? She’s not who you think she is. She’s fucked up, and a goddamn grown adult. She can be on her own–”

She never finished her sentence.

I smacked the fuck out of her.

I grinned at the sting on my hand as I full-palmed her face. My rings left a few nice cuts on her cheek. I relished her gasp and how she flew back and curled into a ball. I stood straighter.

“Stairs,” Dad said, monotone and low. He didn’t look at me from where he inspected Pepper’s face. I watched as they entered the elevator and let the doors close.

I grinned the whole time I climbed the 50 flights to my floor.

I was crawling by the end, but no one could say I was a quitter. The pain of my injuries was setting in, which meant everything was wearing off. My body wracked in shakes and I had to stop to puke once or twice. And how was I rewarded?

I was locked on my floor.

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reginalusus · 1 year ago

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I don't know if this has been asked before but what are your headcanons for Harvey and two-face? Wholesome and not so wholesome 🔞 lol

Anything they have in common, for example are they both super organized/need things a certain way? Different love languages?

🩷

Oh, boy, do I...

By the way, I ramble a lot...

So this is gonna be long post.

It's just a thing with me. Only super-cool people relate. /j

I also tend to base *some* headcanons on what is already canon, or blend them in some way, so some of this might be old news.

Oh, and I'll put a cut before the suggestive ones just so people who don't want to see that sort of stuff can safely scroll by.

EDIT: The cut does not seem to be working because Tumblr hates me so, um, WARNING FOR SUGGESTIVE STUFF.

He's 6'5". His height has fluctuated in his appearances, but I much prefer when he's taller than Bruce, such as in Telltale and BTAS. BuT a DisTRIct AtTornEY dOesN't NeE- lalalalalala, I don't careeeeeee. I like the image of him being physically imposing, not just for villainous purposes, but also to juxtapose how much of a sweetheart he is, or was. There is also another reason.

He stims with his coin. Months back I talked in length about how I think Harvey might view his coin as a way to reclaim his abuse against his father, but I also see him using it as a comfort item, as sick as it may be (considering its past), and that the constant twirling and flipping is a way for him to stim.

He loves 50s/60s music. Namely the likes of Elvis Presley, Frank Sinatra, Sam Cooke, Lesley Gore, Dean Martin, Roy Orbinson...

He sings! I know this is kind of canon, but that MF can sing. His Harvey voice is smooth and articulate, very vintage, meanwhile Two-Face's is, of course, raspier and almost more of a rocker's voice.

Two-Face names his guns. I've drawn some of these before, but Harvey doesn't bother with such nonsense. Harvey views weapons as a last resort; their mere existence throws justice into question. Why can someone wield such a thing that sets the odds in their favour immediately? But Two-Face knows they get the job done quickly. They're like the broom of Gotham; a quick way to be rid of the scum. So he names them, for they are beloved, much like how legendary weapons have been named in the past for what they have slain.

He dissociates/has derealization episodes. Yes, he has DID, and dissociation is in the name, but during really intense symptoms, such as his depression, paranoia and personalities all practically screaming in his head, he ends up having a bad derealization episode, much like how you would see someone have after they suffer a panic attack. His coin helps ground him.

He has definitely done that fucking pottery scene from Ghost with Gilda while she's sculpting. You know the one.

He's an elegant shooter but a brutish fighter. Not only is he a God with guns, he's also precise and elegant. But with physical combat? Brutal, much like a street fighter. I suppose both Batman and Deathstroke's training gets muddled in some ways...

His henchmen give him gifts now and then. They just do, and he doesn't understand it. Silly stuff, like bi-coloured mugs or shirts. Perhaps to keep his short-temperedness at some sort of bay. Doesn't work half the time, however.

He takes depression naps. Because of course he does. Having mental health issues is also physically taxing. I imagine he sleeps a lot, but also struggles to sleep at the same time because everything is so damn loud in his head.

He's bisexual. Gotta love both. Harvey has a preference for women, Two-Face has a preference for men.

Fussy with his suits and clothes. In The Judas Coin, we see Harvey's kind of a suit-nerd. Enough said. That MF loves to look good. Harvey loves stuff that's timeless and classic, very reminiscent of 40s/50s mafia wear, while Two-Face loves gaudy, striking stuff. They have to compromise, hence the split suits in the first place.

He doesn't like himself very much but just puts up with it. He's a walking contradiction, a hypocrite to himself. He claims to uphold the law but also bastardizes it. Also, he avoids mirrors and reflections if possible (that was something that was mentioned in his older issues, but they never brought it back, I don't think). He's smashed a mirror before, or two, or three.

He's a hopeless romantic. I've talked a little about this before, but he crushes hard, falls harder, and ever since being widowed, he pines for validation but seldom receives such because of his reputation.

He's a vintage lighter collector. He's got those S.T. Duponts and those 1970 electric Ronson's, I just know it.

Harvey constantly makes courtroom puns. Nobody laughs except Gilda.

He's an embarrassing dancer. He loves singing older tunes, but when it comes to dancing, he loves those cheesy 80 tunes. Get him drunk enough and he'll kill the dancefloor... with second-hand embarrassment.

So, I also have a lot of thoughts about The Judge too, but they're very scattershot and I'd rather compile them at another time, plus this post doesn't need to be any longer than what it is, lmao.

I also have more HCs around what he'd be like with the Batkids and Bruce, but again, this post is already long.

Ok, suggestive stuff now, and I'm going to kick it off with a hot take:

Harvey and Two-Face are monogamous. A really popular HC I've seen for Harvey is that he loves having multiple partners - two partners, of course, for each side of him. Well... I DISAGREE. /lh Personally, I think he prefers the one. He likes to purely focus on that one person and treat them like they're the only person that exists, in hope they'll do the same for him. To make him feel like he's whole; that, for once, he's not split.

Two-Face is protective and jealous. If you're out with him and he sees someone eyeing you up, out come the knuckle dusters.

He's dominant. And rough. But he'll always ask what you want; do you want to be praised or degraded while he's using you?

The coin can be fun. Sometimes he gets extremely impassioned and heated, and he just doesn't know what to do with his partner next. Good thing he has an item that helps him decide. The ambiguity of which side will turn up can add to the excitement!

Scar worship makes him melt. It just does. He hates that side of him, but seeing someone stroke or caress his scars, telling him how handsome he looks, that's a sure-fire way to send him over the edge. He'll probably fall in love.

Harvey shows love through words and actions, Two-Face shows it through gifts. Harvey will reassure his partner through words and keeping those words upheld. Meanwhile, Two-Face will corrupt his partners with gifts.

Two-Face is a bit clingy. He'll text a lot, call a lot, ask where his partner is, how they are, if they're ok. Harvey is more relaxed.

Aftercare King. He knows how strong he is and how violent (for lack of a better word) he can be. So he'll always check in with his partner to make sure they're fine.

Harvey is vocal and sappy, Two-Face isn't. Not just during the act, but afterwards. Harvey will want to cuddle, he'll want to talk over a cigarette, he wants to get to know his partner on a deeper level. Two-Face generally needs some room first. He might be a bit cold, but he'll come around.

Again, I have more in this regard, but that's what AO3 is for!

Oh, also, I saw your ask about Gerard Butler and his doggo... I agree, hehe, maybe Harvey can walk Dick's dog at some point, lol.

#headcanons #asks #answered #harvey dent #<- I guess I'll tag him. Normally I don't put asks in the main tags but IG I'll do it for now. Lol.#tw: suggestive #tw: mental health #reginareplies

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dark-raven-feathers · 8 months ago

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Academia aesthetics, but it's my friend group: > Sitting in the same place on the second floor of the science hall every lunch > One side of the group talking about anime and/or drawing. Other side of the group panic studying for chem/bio and copying down each other's math worksheets > "What's the prostate?" "...Ao3. A/B/O," "Oh. Oooooh," > Two types of people: depressed artists and depressed writers > Immaculate drawings of the brain from the ones who take biology > Several people who, at any time, will pull out science facts like "Your urethra has taste buds" and proceed as normal > the token explosions/physics expert > Arriving around 2-3 hours before the first exam of the semester, claiming a table, and then proceeding to study off of the same person's binder the entire time > Sharing fanfictions in the middle of class > Always down to commit a crime. Or set something on fire. Or both. > Helping with physics concepts turns into a heated debate about education > Every single tangent either starts with marching band or ends with concert band > There is always a person who has already done the class you're currently doing > A bizarre combination of punk, creature, weeb, academia, vintage, and fine arts > Someone will always know someone else, to the point where you somehow get to know someone 2 years older then you who only cares about sports > Doing the giant crossword puzzle posted on the library bulletin board whenever we're in the line up for textbooks > One person being known for almost exclusively wearing long dresses in varying shades of black and white > Either watching biology-related animes or watching the Green brothers in some form

#dark raven feathers #aesthetic #punk academia #academia #dark academia #high school

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sipsofsecrets · 7 months ago

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❛ 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝙙𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙡𝙮 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎. ❜

˗ˏˋ 𓂃 ( jennie kim. cis-female. she/her ). meet naya ahn, a 28 year old, who has been in cloyne for six months. they are a yoga instructor at gym buddies, known for her teasing charisma and being overly self-critical. they are often heard humming along to end of beginning by djo. residents would describe them as the outsider. ( klein, 29, she/her, est )

V I B E S

moonlight filtering through closed blinds, casting soft shadows across a room. candlelight flickering in the quiet of a dimly lit space. late-night walks through deserted streets. the frost prickling on skin. oversized sweaters and messy hair, and the faint smell of jasmine and sandalwood-- her signature scent, lingering in the room. a haunting playlist reflecting the turmoil of her world. journal pages filled with half-written thoughts and unshared dreams. she is incomplete.

I D E N T I T Y

birth name : ahn naya.

nicknames / aliases : femme fatale (by knetz/media for her allure and tendencies to be in scandals) ; stranger (nickname given by someone who saw through her facade?).

date of birth : january 16, 1996.

age : 28.

height : 5'4 / 164 cm.

gender : cis-female.

pronouns : she/her.

sexuality : straight. (bisexual)

relationship status : single. (recovering from a scandal / wary of relationships)

birthplace : los angeles, united states of america.

currently : cloyne, ontario. she's hiding.

family : her parents and siblings are alive and well in usa. she has three siblings, all younger than her. they are not aware of her whereabouts. she is truly missing from the public eye.

religion : catholic. (not practicing)

education : bachelor of arts (economics).

languages : english. korean. japanese. chinese.

occupation : inactive girl-group idol turned influencer/model. yoga instructor at gym buddies.

S T A T S

preferred hand : right.

blood type : ab- (rare)

allergies : mild-shellfish allergy

physical health : very healthy. toned and slim due to years of dance and regular yoga/pilates.

mental health : struggles with undiagnosed PTSD, depression, and anxiety following her scandal and public fallout. has vivid dreams related to her past and occasional panic attacks in crowded spaces. regularly experiences flashbacks and intense feelings of guilt or shame.

social : once extremely social as an idol, now she avoids most people, keeping interactions brief and guarded. occasionally, her old social self "slips" out, especially when she’s comfortable in smaller, familiar settings.

P E R S O N A

capricorn sun. isfp. melancholic. 4w3 (the individualist).

playful. charming. kind-hearted. resilient.

perceptive. independent.

secretive. mistrustful. emotionally distant. impulsive.

H A B I T S && L I K E S && D I S L I K E S

vintage fashion (enjoys thrifting for unique pieces that fit her low-key, chic style). rainy days (sound of rain brings her peace). journaling (she writes poetry and reflections, though she keeps them hidden from others). cats (while she doesn’t have a pet, she loves visiting the shelter to spend time with them).

hair-tugging (wists her hair when anxious or deep in thought). phone-checking (a reflexive action despite her desire to stay disconnected from social media). late-night walks. yoga rituals (helps her clear her mind).

being recognized (dreads the thought of someone discovering her identity and exposing her to the media). public scrutiny (the idea of being judged again fills her with anxiety, especially after what happened with her producer). emotional intimacy (she’s afraid of getting close to others and being betrayed again).

crowded places. gossip. overly sweet foods.

A P P E A R A N C E

resembles jennie kim (blackpink). heart-shaped face, high cheekbones and soft, almond-shaped eyes (often guarded but sometimes revealing flashes of vulnerability). full lips, highlighted with a subtle gloss or neutral/natural tones. jet-black hair, worn in loose waves or sleek ponytails. slim/toned body from years and years of dance and yoga.

oversized jackets. neutral tones. a low-key style with a statement piece like a bold-lip or a vintage accessory. on occasion, wears something more eye-catching when she needs a confidence boost.

a star on her wrist (symbolizing her once-bright career). a crescent moon behind her ear (signifying the darker, more hidden aspects of her life). a hidden floral tattoo.. perhaps on her hip.

R O U T I N E

mornings start with yoga, followed by a healthy breakfast (often a smoothie or fruit), and then some light journaling or meditation. then an afternoon yoga class at gym buddies. lunch in a quiet diner or at home. she takes the long way home, reflecting on her day maybe even her past. when she finally arrives home, she reads by a candlelight, possibly in her bathtub. and before bed? she writes, sometimes journals, sometimes poetry, and then depends on her medication and soft music to help her sleep.

&& S T O R I E S U N T O L D

naya was a star in one of the world’s biggest k-pop girl groups, until her relationship with her producer was exposed. the scandal led to her being kicked out of the group while the producer faced no consequences.

after the fallout, naya fled to cloyne, ontario, where she’s been living in secret, trying to rebuild herself.

betrayed by someone she trusted, naya now struggles with opening up and trusting others.

she has no plans to return to the entertainment world. she finds peace in teaching yoga and she is happy in the quiet town of cloyne.

despite everything, she keeps a bundle of old fan letters in a drawer, reminding herself that there was a time when she was loved unconditionally.

she wears a fan-made bracelet under her sleeve, a hidden reminder of the person she used to be and the fans who supported her.

she has notebooks filled with writings that no one has ever seen.

W A N T E D C O N N E C T I O N S

legend : good/friendly ; flirty/cute ; negative relationship ; spicy/nsfw

THE CURIOUS NEIGHBOUR : your muse lives near naya and has noticed her since she moved in six months ago. quiet, reserved, and always wearing oversized clothes, she piqued their curiosity. they’ve tried striking up conversations, but naya keeps things brief and distant, which only makes them more intrigued. (open for any gender/age)

THE FRIENDLY LOCAL : our muse is a longtime resident of the town and has noticed naya struggling to fit in. they’ve tried to be welcoming, offering to show her around and introduce her to people, but naya is resistant. despite this, your muse keeps trying to include her, sensing there’s more to naya than meets the eye. (open for any gender/age)

THE MYSTERY ADMIRER : your muse has been fascinated by naya since the day she moved to town. they don’t know much about her, but there’s something captivating about her quiet beauty and mysterious air. they’ve tried getting closer, but naya remains distant, which only fuels their desire to learn more. (open for any gender/age)

THE SUSPICIOUS LOCAL : your muse is skeptical of outsiders, especially those like naya who don’t seem to share much about their past. they’ve noticed how she keeps to herself and avoids social gatherings, which makes them wonder what she’s hiding. your muse keeps an eye on her, spreading rumors around town about who she might really be. (open for any gender/age)

THE ACCIDENTAL FRIEND : your muse accidentally bumped into naya (literally) one day, spilling coffee or running into her during a walk. It led to a brief but memorable conversation. since then, they’ve had a few random encounters around town, each one sparking a little more curiosity and interest in each other’s lives. (open for any gender/age)

THE TOWN GOSSIP : your muse has been quietly observing naya since she moved in six months ago, and they’ve already started creating theories about who she really is. they’re suspicious of her low profile and mysterious demeanor, and they’ve started spreading rumors, even if they don’t have all the facts. (open for any gender/age)

THE RELUCTANT ALLY : your muse is aware of the rumors circulating about naya and her mysterious past. they don’t fully trust her, but they also don’t believe in judging someone before knowing the whole story. when things get tough for naya, your muse might be the unexpected person who stands up for her, even if they don’t fully understand her. (open for any gender/age)

W A N T E D C O N N E C T I O N S ( N S F W !! )

THE TEASING TENSION : your muse and Naya have been circling each other for months, full of unresolved sexual tension. there have been lingering touches, shared glances, and playful teasing, but neither has made the first move. the tension is thick, and it’s only a matter of time before something happens between them. (open for any gender, age 25+)

THE UNDERCOVER FLING : your muse recognizes naya from her idol days but hasn’t said anything, choosing instead to keep that knowledge to themselves. the two of them started off with casual flirtation that eventually led to some passionate nights. your muse is fascinated by the mystery of her and is tempted to reveal they know who she really is. (open for any gender, age 28-35)

THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER : one night, naya and your muse crossed paths in a random, unplanned encounter—maybe it was a bar, a hotel, or some other chance meeting. their chemistry was undeniable, leading to a night of passion. they haven’t exchanged names, and neither knows the other’s story, but both remember that night vividly. will they meet again, or was it a one-time thing? (open for any gender, age 25+)

THE ON-AGAIN, OFF-AGAIN FLING : naya and your muse have a complicated history. they’ve hooked up on multiple occasions, but it never turns into anything stable. sometimes they go weeks without seeing each other, and then, all of a sudden, the passion flares up again. It’s messy, chaotic, and full of unresolved emotions, but neither can fully walk away. (open for any gender, age 26+)

THE FORBIDDEN AFFAIR : your muse is already in a relationship, but they’ve been unable to resist naya’s allure. what started as innocent flirtation has turned into secret meetings and heated encounters. both know it’s wrong, but the chemistry between them is too strong to ignore. now they’re trying to keep the affair under wraps before anyone finds out. (open for any gender, age 30+)

THE DANGEROUS TEMPTATION : your muse is a bad influence on naya, pulling her into risky situations she wouldn’t normally get involved in. there’s a dark, magnetic pull between them that naya can’t resist, despite knowing it’s a bad idea. their encounters are intense, and naya is playing with fire by staying involved. (open for any gender, age 28+)

NO-STRINGS ATTACHED : both naya and your muse are looking for the same thing—something physical, no strings attached. they meet in secret, keeping everything between the two of them, with no expectation of it turning into anything serious. naya likes the simplicity of it, but your muse might be developing feelings, making things complicated. (open for any gender, age 26+)

EXPERIMENTAL ENCOUNTERS : naya has been exploring her sexuality and your muse is part of that journey. they’ve had a few steamy encounters, where naya feels comfortable letting her guard down and exploring sides of herself she didn’t have the chance to as an idol. it’s fun, exciting, and full of tension, but also leaves her feeling conflicted afterward. (open for any gender, age 25+)

#cloyne:intro #pinned

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bloomics · 5 months ago

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i realized i've done an intro on here but i haven't really talked about my interests all that much !! here's a comprehensive special interest list (past & present)

media related SpIns are care bears (wish bear & funshine bear are huge comforts! along with the care bear cousins!!) my little pony, specifically gens 1-4 (minty and fluttershy are huge comforts), blooming panic, miffy the rabbit, & the beatles.

non media related SpIns are rabbits (i <3 harlequin rabbits!!) CDs & other forms of physical media (ask me abt my cd collection!!), vintage pinback buttons, catholic saints (i am saint dymphna's number one fan) taxidermy & mortuary science.

previously i've been super hyperfixated on aliens & other cryptozoology creatures (i am nessie's biggest supporter), robotic dogs (someday i'll own a sony aibo), sanrio (cinna is a BIG comfort) & katamari :)

#:)!!! requests related to these things will be number one priority for me ...#📝

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bluemoonperegrine · 1 year ago

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Silliness

@vicarious-rebel and I had (yet another) silly exchange related to The Characters that some of you may enjoy.

Said characters are younger versions of the Moon Knight system and Jack Russell in an AU where life has been a little kinder to them so that Vi and I can then be kind to them or torture them for our amusement.

It started when I asked Vi the system's vehicle situation since moving to San Diego. Jake has a taxi, of course. Do they have another ride?

Yes, Vi said: a mostly restored Pontiac Tempest. I voted for the 1962 two-door coupe because IMO the models later in the decade are ugly. Vi said okay. 😂

Jake's the car guy. Marc's not, but his boyfriend Jack thinks that he restored the vintage car.

This leads to situations.

Here's an edited version of our chat. Vi's text is black. Mine is blue.

Jack did notice Jake's car [in chapter 8], but he was too busy wrangling the climbing mat, being smitten, and not jumping Marc to even mention it.

He should ask Marc about it at some point just so Marc can have another "oh shit" moment.

In his panic Marc will call it by the wrong model name. Jack: It's a Tempest. I remember seeing that on the car. Marc: Oh, yeah. Right. That's what I meant. Jake: 🤦‍♂️ Idiota.

Jake is passively mentioning some stuff to Marc so he can at least try not to make a total fool of himself.

If Marc, Jack, Robin, and [her spouse] Bri go out together, the latter three could make small talk about the car. Marc can answer like 20% of the questions. Jake might have to front for a bit. At the very least feed Marc answers 😂

Jack asks Marc to look at an problem with his Bronco. Marc: *panic*

Jake: (sighs) Fuck it, fine, I'll do it

Jake: Don't let him pay for an oil change. Dios, that's so easy. Just don't make out with him while I'm trying to work. Gross.

Jake: Yes, I can install new brake pads. Tell him to make [favorite dish] for dinner. Extra spicy

Jack (to an acquaintance): Meet my boyfriend Marc. He's great with cars. Restored-- Marc: *stomps on his foot*

#writing babble #moon knight fanfic #werewolf by night fanfiction #i'd love to make this a sitcom

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scissorsxluvv · 22 hours ago

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📌 °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ INTRODUCION POST °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

❝ she rules her life like a bird in light and who will be her lover? ❞

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚★⋆｡˚ ⋆

┊ ┊ ┊ ⋆

┊ ┊ ★⋆

┊ ◦ ┊ . ˚

★⋆ ˚★

❝ I never really got there, I just pretended that I have. words are blunt instruments, words are sawed off shotguns.❞

𓏲๋࣭࣪˖🪼⋆˚｡ ELLIE / EL. 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝⭒˚｡⋆

｡𖦹.˚ all pronouns are fine but I prefer they/them in english and she or they in my native (polish)!!

｡𖦹.˚ genderfluid lesbian.

｡𖦹.˚ isfp/infp. sx/so 4w3. choleric-melancholic.

｡𖦹.˚ autistic + adhd.

｡𖦹.˚ I'm a minor!!! so pls don't be weird ://

｡𖦹.˚ polish, but I mostly speak and post in english

𓏲๋࣭࣪˖🪼⋆˚｡ my kins!!! (amanda and misty are the heaviest, cut me in half and you'll see these two)

↑[misty day (ahs coven), amanda young (saw), misty quigley (yellowjackets), nancy wheeler (stranger things), cassie ainsworth (skins gen 1), jade west (victorious)]

❝ the cure for death itself? the answer is — immortality.❞

𓏲๋࣭࣪˖🪼⋆˚｡ FANDOMS: stranger things. saw franchise. american horror story. yellowjackets. the last of us. dead poets society. agatha all along. agent carter. black widow. marvel. shadowhunters universe. the hunger games. harry potter. marauders era. komisarz alex. star wars. f1. descendants. greek mythology. the conjuring franchise. gravity falls. castle. arcane. heathers. hamilton. carrie the musical. (and many, MANY more...) [the bold ones are my special interest/I'm most active in them]

𓏲๋࣭࣪˖🪼⋆˚｡ MUSIC: lana del rey. lorde. stevie nicks. fleetwood mac. big thief. adrianne lenker. mitski. marina. the dresden dolls. lady gaga. chappell roan. taylor swift. radiohead. mother mother. the nbhd. panic! at the disco. myslovitz. daria zawialow. fiona apple. fydolla ho. mazzy star. musicals' soundtracks. rock. old music.

𓏲๋࣭࣪˖🪼⋆˚｡ MY FAV SHIPS AND HCS FROM STRANGER THINGS (as some might be controversial or rare):

｡𖦹.˚ joyren!!!! I'm the biggest joyren stan in the world. ronance!!!! byler/miwi. elmax. elumax. jancy. mileven. mucas/lumax. steddie. hopclair. nancy x barb. one-sided stommy. platonic elmike. platonic stobin. platonic jopper. platonic stancy. platonic madwheeler. platonic madwise. platonic willel. [bold ones are my favorite/what I'd love as endgame (abt romantic ships), but I wouldn't mind the rest as endgame!!]

｡𖦹.˚ lesbian karen wheeler!!!! bisexual and genderfluid (she/he) nancy wheeler. bisexual mike wheeler. bisexual joyce byers. (these are my main ships, the rest of sexuality hcs are here) audhd robin buckley. autism spectrum nancy wheeler. nancy's favorite song being total eclipse of the heart by bonnie tyler. karen wheeler is alice creel theory!!!!

𓏲๋࣭࣪˖🪼⋆˚｡ MY FAV SHIPS AND HCS FROM SAW :

｡𖦹.˚ lynnmanda/shotgunshipping. pintshipping. chainshipping. john and jill. hoffstrahm/coffinshipping. eric and kerry. platonic daniel and amanda. platonic rockstarshipping. platonic strahm and perez.

｡𖦹.˚ autistic amanda. (not saying she doesn't have bpd, she's just autistic coded too and I relate to her the most) alcoholic brit (pre-trap). mallick's scars being also sh (it's hinted in saw v). brit and mallick living together after saw v. jill being a mother figure for amanda. amanda and adam knowing eachother more before she kidnapped him for the trap. I think the sexuality headcanons from saw are mostly the same for everyone tbh

𓏲๋࣭࣪˖🪼⋆˚｡ SOME FUNFACTS ABOUT ME:

｡𖦹.˚ I want to be a cop (homicide/criminal department)

｡𖦹.˚ I'm a theatre kid lol (as if you couldn't tell)

｡𖦹.˚ my favorite animals are jellyfishes and cats

｡𖦹.˚ I dress in a witchy, hippie, whimsy, vintage style, idek how to name it (my biggest inspirations are stevie nicks and misty day)

｡𖦹.˚ my absolute favorite song is most likely jigsaw falling into place by radiohead

𓏲๋࣭࣪˖🪼⋆˚｡ MY SOCIALS :

｡𖦹.˚ ao3: scissorsxluvv

｡𖦹.˚ wattpad: bird_in_flight

｡𖦹.˚ tt editing acc: scissorsxluvv_

｡𖦹.˚ tt main acc: _bird_in_flight

𓏲๋࣭࣪˖🪼⋆˚｡ and here's me!! :33

❝ turn around, bright eyes.❞

(some me core songs :33)

#introduction #about myself #intro post #pinned intro #me core #saw franchise #stranger things #fyp #Spotify

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deidrift · 1 year ago

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Hey there, I'm Julian Matheus Avery, call me Matheus or just Mat. In my late 20s, I'm on a quest to connect with everyone for laid-back chats and sharing.

Whether it's writing, reading, or diving into music across various genres, my passion knows no bounds.

Speaking of music, I absolutely adore everything from 2000s emo, especially tunes from Muse, Paramore, Panic at the Disco, Linkin Park, Simple Plan, Fall Out Boy, and more bands with a similar vibe.

I’m also deeply fascinated by anything classic. Whether it’s classic architecture, vintage music, old-fashioned vehicles, or just retro items, I find a lot of joy in exploring and appreciating the timeless aspects of these things. It’s like a little escape for me, where I can dive into a different era and enjoy the beauty of the past.

On the other hand, I have a huge passion for sports, with soccer being my absolute favorite. I’m a devoted Arsenal fan in the English Premier League, and I find myself glued to the screen whenever their matches are on. I’m also an avid follower of various leagues and have favorite teams in each of them. Soccer isn’t just a game for me, it’s a thrilling experience that I enjoy to discuss.

Besides soccer, I’m really into gaming. My interests are pretty varied when it comes to games. I’m not a big fan of FIFA; instead, I lean towards PES for my soccer gaming needs, and I can’t get enough of Football Manager for the strategic depth it offers. I also dive into Mobile Legends regularly, where I spend a lot of time on Magic Chess because it’s incredibly engaging and fun. While I also play other mode like ranked, brawl, and classic, I wouldn’t call myself a top player—my main roles are usually Roam, or EXP Laner, and I’m always looking to improve. You can reach me out for a game or two.

As a roleplay writer, you can expect a touch of anything RP-related on my account.

Ain't a fan of drama here—it's simply not my scene. If you're into stirring up controversy or reacting negatively to news, we might not click. I'm likely to mute or soft block in those situations. I get the whole free speech thing, but let's keep it thoughtful. My account is a haven for everyone, so if drama's your thing, I'll pass. Peace is my preferred vibe.

And last but not least, if you’re a Star Wars fan, we’re practically destined to be friends.

#Spotify

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angelandgypsy · 2 years ago

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Huge Larimar Natural Silver Healing Gemstone Crystal Necklace.

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tinyxdancer · 2 years ago

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"You're just tired of me taking pictures of you all day." She hoped he knew no matter what, she wasn't planning on stopping her photography hobby. A soft chuckle left her lips, turning her gaze out the car window to admire the MacCulloch & Wallis shop. When the vintage shop came to view, and it dawned on her where her husband was taking her, she swore there would be no way to convince her to exit the car. She was done, had accepted her fate, and was ready to move on from anything fashion related. Though on certain nights, she couldn't resist her creative muse. During her partner's slumber, she'd find herself sketching various ideas for clothing designs she longed to witness in reality rather than just on a piece of paper. "Or maybe it's a good thing you can start over. You get to define yourself the way you want to. What better way to show that than your own wedding dress?" He countered, making her ponder over exactly what she wanted in this life. As they finally reached the entrance of the shop, a sudden surge of panic coursed through her veins, causing her to hesitate. The mere thought of entering the establishment made her want to run away and forget about her creative potential. But, with his reassuring smile and the gentle grip of his hand, she found the courage to step inside. The warmth of the shop enveloped her, and she felt safe and secure beside him. For a moment, she felt she was missing her sketchpad where she could get a better sense of what she was looking for, but that wasn't necessary and she was well aware of it. It was almost second nature the instant her fingers started to brush through a few fabrics on display. As she held the silk material, she imagined how it would beautifully melt along the curves of her body. It would cling to her frame in all the right places, enhancing her figure. Oh, but the tulle! If she could, she would jump into a pile of the fabric and feel like she's floating on a fluffy cloud, ascending into the heavens. Additionally, the textile held a unique place in her heart as it was used for many of her first dresses. The lace that caught her attention was an exquisite and intricate piece that held the potential to elevate her entire ensemble. Its delicate nature added a touch of elegance and refinement that could tie the whole look together, leaving an impression on anyone who laid eyes on it. She had a distinct idea of what she wanted for her wedding dress, as it held greater significance than just being a fashionable garment. It represented her comeback to fashion and would hold a special place in the cherished memories to be made with dear ones on the big day. Their love celebration deserved careful attention to detail. In the end, her ultimate aspiration was to attain a sense of flawlessness, to feel completely perfect in every aspect of her being. She had a goal in mind and she was determined to achieve it.

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crouchbackie · 2 years ago

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thank you for tagginggggg

ONE: Are you named after anyone?

no, my name is a hideous adjective, which means cheerful. I'm not. I'm mostly pissed and look unhappy. But I stopped complaining the moment I apprehended that my dad wanted to name me after his grandmother, Serafina... which could sound like a noble name, but it really gives off the vibes of an old woman. So yeah no, I like old, vintage things, but I don't wanna be an old woman. The other option was Maria (Mary). In italian it sucks pretty bad, it sounds better in English or French.

TWO: When was the last time you cried?

uhm, friday. I still don't know if I've exaggerated or not.

THREE: Do you have kids?

THANKFULLY NO, and I will never have those disgusting, little monsters.

FOUR: Do you use sarcasm a lot?

I don't know, sometimes I guess, when I'm with people I know, in a playful way. But I'm not good at it, sometimes I even fail to understand it.

FIVE: What sports have you played/do you play?

tons of them, they always used to force me to do sports, never understood why. Now I'm back to swimming, the only sport i've practiced constantly in my life. It's nice, I'm trying to get into shape and I'm happy to have gotten over my fear of people and sports (never had a nice PE teacher once in my life, nor good classmates)

SIX: What's the first thing you notice about people?

nice question, when someone approaches I get flustered and I panic, so I never really look at them in the eyes. However, when I'm able to watch people undisturbed and unknown, I usually watch their hands and their demeanor.

SEVEN: What's your eye colour?

green

EIGHT: Scary movies or happy endings?

happy endings, or tragic ones, but please NO SCARY THINGS

NINE: Any special talents?

I've a good memory for reminders and faces. I usually recognize people I've seen or talked to throughout the day ("weird, you said you didn't look at people in the face", well I do when no one sees me 🌝). I can also play in theatre. I mean, what's the definition of "talent"? something you can do out of the blue, or something you've cultivated through time and got better at?

TEN: Where were you born?

northern italy, and I love it to underline that I'm from the north because people use to think of "pizza pasta mandolino" whenever I say italy, and I don't really identify with that 😂 But I'm also not really proud of being italian anyway.

ELEVEN: What are your hobbies?

reading, doing nail art (when my nails don't fall apart), eating and drinking, dolling up to go out. Also learning a new language, though university just suppressed all my strength and motivation to learn anything else that's not part of the program. Also going to the theatre, if I had the money, and attending theatre courses, if I had the time (commuting takes away a lot of it)

TWELVE: Do you have any pets?

yes, a dog!

THIRTEEN: How tall are you?

1,66 cm, and I'm sort of good with that

FOURTEEN: Favourite subject in school?

MMMH, french literature back in highschool; now it's slavic philology (i know no russian, but I still decided to try the course out hehe), germanic philology, last year's french literature, and that's it.

FIFTEEN: Dream job?

my dear, there's no such a thing as a dream job anymore ✨✨ i'm fine with working in a company's back office/front office. I'm graduating in foreign languages, so I'd love to do something related to that. I don't want to end up being a teacher anymore and I don't think translating stuff will buy me bread, so yeah, Imma learn all I need to learn in a company and live with that, all I want is money and enough free time to do things I like!

Okay, that's it!

Oversharing on the Internet

I was tagged by @cha-melodius, thank you! <3

ONE: Are you named after anyone?

Nope, traditionally I SHOULD have been named after my maternal great grandmother, but my mother refused because she didn't like the name LOL.

TWO: When was the last time you cried?

I genuinely don't remember LOL.

THREE: Do you have kids?

Nope.

FOUR: Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Not really, I use it sometimes, I'd say.

FIVE: What sports have you played/do you play?

I started swimming when I was like 3 or 4, I stopped when I was ten I think to play volleyball, in middle school I had a very brief dancing phase that I'd like not to remember, then still in middle school I did a year of athletics (like running, jumping, etc) but it got boring so I stopped and went back to swimming, I did a year-ish of kickboxing during my last year of high school (loved that one, but I had to stop because I couldn't go to practice because of all the studying, ngh), and now I'm horse riding. Also when I was a kid there was a lot of skiing because my father's side of the family is obsessed LOL.

SIX: What's the first thing you notice about people?

Probably their hair, it's certainly what I remember best: I am bad with faces so if I meet someone for the second time and they change their hairstyle I am going to be very confused (like "who is this? help" levels of confused).

SEVEN: What's your eye colour?

Brown.

EIGHT: Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings, I'm not completely opposed to scary movies but I very rarely watch them.

NINE: Any special talents?

Does being a human calendar count? LOL. I'm the person in the friend and/or work group that is like "Hey, friendly reminder that it's Father's Day next week" or "PSA, public transport is on strike on Friday" when I know that people have a hard time remembering this stuff looool.

TEN: Where were you born?

...Italy LOL.

ELEVEN: What are your hobbies?

Fandom (writing and reading fics, giffing, scrolling endlessly...) and horse riding.

TWELVE: Do you have any pets?

No but I'd love get a cat someday soon.

THIRTEEN: How tall are you?

Around 160 cm? Maybe 158? That should be 5'2 in feet.

FOURTEEN: Favourite subject in school?

All the literatures (Italian, Ancient Greek, Latin and English were the ones I took in high school). Also English because I was so good at it LOL.

FIFTEEN: Dream job

Tbh I would just be happy to get something in the field I got two whole degrees in LOL. But outside of that, if I could lock myself in a barn and look after horses all day I would probably be more than happy to let's be real looool.

Tagging: @playpenn @sensitivehandsomeactionman @imgoingtofreakoutnow @dadralt @huggiebird @ikeepwatchinghelicopters @cherryjuicegf and anyone else who wants to give it a try, feel free to tag me!

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vintagepanicatd · 5 years ago

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So it’s been out for well over a year now, but what do y’all think of Pray For The Wicked?

#panic! at the disco #brendon urie #not vintage panic related #pray for the wicked

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blegh-110 · 2 years ago

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Have I found you, flightless bird? (3/?)

Pairing: Soft!Dark!Tangerine x Fem!Crybaby!Reader

Summary: You have very mixed feelings on your first official day with Tangerine.

Chapter Warnings: Panic attack, bad/mean parents, a bit of stockholm syndrome

Word Count: 6.9k

A/N: This is not edited, enjoy and thank you again for being patient with me.

You have never felt better.

For the first time ever, your bed doesn’t feel like a hundred giant rocks under a blanket, making every inch of your back ache. You don’t know if it’s you being so tired and out of it, but your mattress feels like an actual mattress. And the pillow under your head is not flat but soft and puffy, so that it actually supports your head. You can’t tell if you’re dreaming or not, hoping that you are, you roll over and breathe in relief when you don’t fall off the bed. And the comforter has warmth wrapping all around you.

This has to be a dream. You think in your sleepy state. Your mattress is nowhere near the clouds you’re sleeping on. But with a heavy sigh, you know you have to fully wake up eventually and leave this wonderful feeling. Before opening your eyes, you stretch and immediately wish you didn’t.

You feel pain all over your body, especially your legs. They feel sore, like you had just run a mile the day before. You try to think what could have caused them to feel this way, then you remember and your eyes shoot open.

Tangerine.

It all came back, the night before, and all your sleepiness and fatigue is quickly replaced with fear and adrenaline. You throw the covers off of you and your confusion and fear increases when you realize you aren’t in your apartment. Instead, you’re in a room that is thrice the size of it with a dusty pink theme. The king-sized bed is placed in the middle of the room, and on the left side of it is a vanity with a vase filled with peonies. On the left corner of the room, next to the vanity, are two light pink, vintage-looking couches. On the right side of the room was a bookshelf wall, with most of the space empty. Your heart picks up and it feels like it’s about to explode out of your chest from how hard it’s thumping.

You feel sick to your stomach and have the urge to throw up again, but you manage to keep quiet and slowly walk towards the door of the bedroom. When you attempt to open the door, the knob doesn’t turn all the way. The door is locked. But your hope doesn’t falter yet when you turn around and see two giant windows. Your feet quickly guide you to the first one next to the couches, and with all your strength, you try to push it open but it doesn’t budge. And you have a dreadful feeling that the next one won’t either, and you are correct. The urge to cry out loud consumes you, but then you see the bathroom. Please, God, let there be an open window. But there is no such luck as you’re trying to open the window next to the bathtub.

You’re locked in the room.

The panic fully sets in and you let out a shuddering breath that you try to keep down. But that doesn’t stop your tears from falling and your heart racing and your body going numb. The emotions you felt last night were quickly coming back, but this time you didn’t have anywhere to run. You could try to hide, but your captor would know that you were somewhere in the bedroom and would eventually find you.

You suddenly feel like you can’t breathe and your legs weaken by the second, you slowly sit on the floor and try to control your breathing but nothing works to calm yourself down.

You don’t know what to do. You don’t know how long you’ve sat on the bathroom floor. And your body feels incapable of any movement. Every single bad emotion is swirling inside your chest; fear, confusion, helplessness, claustrophobia, dizziness. It gets to the point where you can’t focus on anything and your mind floats outside your body. Which means you don’t hear the opening of the bedroom door nor the footsteps leading to the bathroom.

Tangerine had wanted to be there with you when you first woke up, but some work related stuff came up where he and Lemon had to leave as soon as possible. To say Tangerine was pissed would be an understatement, he was livid and wanted to murder whoever their target was immediately. The two would usually plan their assassinations at least a day or two before executing them, but with you finally being in his life, he wanted to spend as much time with you as possible. Especially on your first day with him.

He had planned an outline for the day. He would make you breakfast, a big one. With pancakes, fresh fruit, sunny side up eggs, coffee, anything you want plus him. Then he wanted to give you a tour of the house, especially of the garden where all your favorite flowers grew. Along with some fruit trees and a gazebo. Next, he would take you to the library where all your favorite books were, some being first edition classics and others being newer novels. Tangerine had hoped by this time, it would be lunch and the two of you would eat a nice meal in the garden. And the rest of the day would be spent with just each other.

Tangerine knew he was being a bit naive about the whole situation, he was aware that you weren’t going to jump in his arms and accept this life. You might’ve given up and surrendered yourself to him the night before, but you put up a good fight and he was expecting some more out of you in the weeks coming.

He only hopes you will see how much of a better life he can give you, and how much you deserve to be treated.

When he first unlocks the bedroom door, he expects you to be peacefully sleeping on your new bed, wrapped up in your comforter. Instead, he sees an empty spot and the blanket is on the ground. His excitement is gone in an instant and he goes searching for you. Fortunately it doesn’t take long, but his heart breaks when he sees you on the floor of the bathroom with your head in your hands and hears your harsh breathing.

Tangerine kneels down next to you and gently places his hand on your shoulder so as to not startle you, but it doesn’t work.

You feel something touch you and quickly look at the source.

Tangerine’s bloody face is the first thing you see.

The sight of him alone frightens you, but to see blood splatter all over his face and his gentle touch on you disturbs you.

“No, no, love, please calm down!” Tangerine says when you scramble away from him and start screaming. He comes closer to you, grabbing your leg and trying to pull you closer to him. This causes you to start screaming for help so loud that your throat burns, it also doesn’t help your light headedness.

You begin kicking your legs as hard as you can and clawing at his face once he pulls you to him, and you do manage to scratch his face. Which makes you proud for a second, but you're once again horrified when you realize your action towards the man. Even more so when he stops what he’s doing and his deadly eyes stare into yours, and paired with the blood, you think you’re about to become on of murder victims. This gives you the chance to spot the scratch you caused, which wasn’t much, you didn’t even pierce his skin. But the anger Tangerine feels shows how much it affects him, especially on his face.

You don’t realize how much you're shaking, but Tangerine does and his anger slowly starts going away. Although his emotions are itching to be released, he understands that this shift and change in your life is sudden. And that you just need to adjust to it. But that doesn’t mean he can’t still be annoyed with what you’ve done.

“C’mon, let’s get you up now.” He grabs your upper arms and, with ease, lifts you up off of the ground. When he releases you, your knees buckle and you feel yourself about to fall down, but he quickly catches you and you instinctively grab onto his shoulders. You get a sense of deja vu of the night before, and he’s once again carrying you with one arm under your back and the other under your knees.

Your cheeks are wet and stained with your tears, your throat hurts, and your breathing hasn’t slowed down in the slightest. To prevent Tangerine from being even more angrier with you, you try to stop crying, but that results in harsh hiccups that hurt your throat even more. Which Tangerine notices, and his heart cracks even more.

After that time he watched you talk to your parents, he promised himself he would never make you feel that way or make you hold yourself together like your parents did. He’ll make you realize that as well.

You watch Tangerine with careful eyes as he grabs a tissue from the box next to you and you know what he’s about to do.

“Let’s take some deep breaths okay, love?” He whispers.

You want to say no, but your hiccups are starting to hurt your chest, and you really do need to calm down before you pass out. Hesitantly, you nod your head.

“Okay. Close your eyes for me, please. Thank you.”

You feel the tissue press onto your face and gently dab your skin, as well as Tangerine’s light hold on the very tip of your chin that makes you jump.

“Now, take a deep breath for a few seconds and hold it.”

You do as he says, believing it’s not going to work, especially with how close he is to you. All he’s doing is increasing the fear that he’ll do something horrible to you, but you do as he says to at least try to settle down and to make him believe you won’t do anything. Once you’re okay, you’ll make your move.

“Now release it for another few seconds and hold it.”

You’re angry after about five minutes of these breathing exercises, angry because he actually managed to make you feel better. Although there are countless reasons to hate him, this is the first situation where you can’t. You want to say you would rather pass out than have him help you through your panic attack, but the feeling that you were about to die overrides it. The feeling of your lungs squeezing together terrifies you.

“Better?” Tangerine asks, and it physically and mentally hurts to nod your head because it acknowledges the fact that he was the one to make you that way.

“Now what do we say?” The anger and hatred boils inside you, as well as the fear that he might hurt you if you don’t answer him the way he wants.

“Thank you.” You whisper, trying to keep your frustrated tears from falling. You feel your self-respect and ego going down the drain, even though you don’t want it to and you don’t mean any of the words you're saying.

Tangerine smiles at you before fondly pinching your chin and bringing his lips gently to your forehead. He finds your angry little face adorable and wants to squish your cheeks together. But you might actually attempt to murder him if he does that. He’s aware of what he’s doing and the effect it has on you, but he needs you to know that no disrespect is tolerated when he’s taking care of you from now on. You’ll come around to thank him, he thinks. For now, he’ll admire your pout in secret.

He picks you up and brings you back to the room, placing you down on the bed so you’re sitting. Every time Tangerine touches you, he leaves your skin burning in a way where you want to scrub the area raw of any trace of him.

“You sit here pretty for me and I’m going to get you some clothes, okay?” Tangerine turns away before going into the closet. While he is going through the racks trying to pick something you’ll be comfortable in, you eye the door and the closet. You slowly stand up, thankful that the bed doesn’t squeak, and peek inside the closet where you find him staring intensely at the clothes. Then you begin your second escape as you tiptoe towards the bedroom door, listening carefully for his heavy footsteps but they never come. And once out, you’re running down the hallway and down the stairs, your heart picking up once again. You’re sure that if captures you this time, he’ll definitely lose it and won’t be nice to you.

When you’re on the first floor, the first thing you spot is the front door and you run to it. The thought that you might actually leave almost makes you laugh with disbelief and excitement. But it leaves as quick as it comes when you see the keyhole and when the door knob doesn’t turn all the way. You quickly convince yourself that you don’t need one and that it’s there for decoration, but you start to fill with dread when you continue to twist and turn the knob and it still doesn’t open. Out of frustration, you slam your fist against the door and immediately want to slam your head on it when you realize the noise you just made.

Without thinking you run into a different room and don’t even look at it all the way, your eyes are only searching for a door that goes outside. You soon become lost after going through multiple doors throughout the house and you wonder if Tangerine notices you’re gone. The amount of rooms the downstairs floor has is ridiculous and you curse him as you’re going through each one, still not paying attention to the contents of them.

While you’re panicking downstairs, Tangerine emerges from the closet with a navy cable knit sweater, a black skirt, and some socks in his hands. And when he looks at the bed, ready to your pretty face, you're gone once again and the door is wide open. He forgot to close the door when he first came in, which makes him angry at himself. But also at you for attempting something like this after you scratched him.

He was willing to forgive your previous actions, and he hoped that that would set you straight, but apparently it hasn’t. Tangerine wants to remain calm, but the thought of you trying to get out of the house sets him off and he’s throwing your clothes on the bed and walking out of your room. But he’s not quick with his search for you like before, the first time caught him off guard. But then he’s reminded of all the precautions he took so you wouldn’t escape.

Tangerine doesn’t know how long you had been gone while he was searching for clothes for you to wear, but he’s feeling a little playful with his anger and decides to give you a few more minutes to run and hide. Then he’ll come get you.

Just as you’re about to risk him hearing you and break a window, you go through another room and spot a door that looks like it’s to the backyard. You feel in your gut that it’s not going to open, but you still try.

You twist the knob and it goes all the way around. Your heart jumps with joy and your stomach burns with exhilaration.

You push the door open and are greeted with the most beautiful backyard garden you have ever seen. Different types of flowers everywhere, the grass and shrubs the perfect shade of green, a fountain with birds bathing in it. You don’t have the time to stare wide-eyed for too long when you suddenly hear a loud bark that scares you. When you look down, you see a puppy tilting its head at you.

Oh, fuck.

It starts barking again and you pray that Tangerine doesn’t hear the dog, but he does. And he takes his time walking down the stairs. He wants to drag out your fear for as long as possible so it gets drilled into your head that no matter how much time you have to run, he will always find you.

You run through the garden trying to find a spot to hide or a gate that leads to the fields, all while hoping that the dog isn’t following you. When you realize the walls of the garden are hedges, you try to push aside the branches and leaves, but are met with stone walls. And your hope is once again gone and replaced with absolute despair, like there is a hole in your stomach that is swallowing every emotion and organ that leaves you feeling drained.

Then you hear the door to the house open followed by Tangerine’s accent. Your eyes go to the rose bushes next to you, your last resort, and you crouch down behind it. It seems as though that hole only left your beating heart, it’s the only thing you can feel as it bangs against your chest.

“Oh, hello, Peachie. Happen to see a strange girl walking around?” He says this in a playful yet sinister tone, loudly. He knows you’re still here and wants you to know that.

Then it’s silent for a while, and although you know in your gut that he’s most likely sneaking around trying to find you, you try to convince yourself Tangerine went back inside the house. And you don’t notice that he is only a few meters behind you, you don’t feel his presence until you’re suddenly turned around by rough hands on your shoulders.

“Alright, I’ve had enough of this.” Tangerine roughly grabs your cheeks and squeezes them together in a pout, it pains him that he’s not doing this affectionately, but in a setting-my-foot-down kind of way. You freeze and stare into his eyes, the angry look he gave you before is nothing compared to the one he’s giving you now. It makes you want to apologize and say you’ll do anything if it means he won’t hurt you.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper through your puckered lips. Tangerine almost immediately caves into your fearful face and welled-up eyes, but he keeps his composure.

“Oh, I’m sure you are darling. Get up.” He stands you up, wrapping a tight hand around your arm and drags you back into the house with Peach following you both. You look behind you and glare at the dog, putting all the blame on her barking. Tangerine leads you up the stairs back into your very pink room.

“Wash up and get dressed, please, and come back down for some breakfast. I believe you’re pretty hungry after running around all morning.” He says this with an annoyed tone.

“There are toiletries in the bathroom, your clothes are on the bed. Hopefully I will have finished making breakfast by the time you are done. Take your time getting ready, I’ll be waiting downstairs.” He finishes then leaves, closing the door behind him. Because of his accent and his ability to talk extremely fast, you hardly understand what he says. But based on the few words you were able to make out, you think you’ll need to use the shower and go back downstairs for some food.

You decide to listen to Tangerine and take your time in the shower, just buying some more time for yourself, and your mind begins to wander with many thoughts and questions. All at once, leaving you with a small headache. It doesn’t help that you are starving, the last thing you remember eating were some snacks from the train, not even a full meal. Right then your stomach growls and you only hope that whatever Tangerine is making, it’ll be good.

You get out of the shower and feel a little better, clean and refreshed physically. Your eyes widen when you look at the counter, it was filled with the best skin care products and makeup. Different facial cleaners, moisturizers, exfoliators, masks, and other skin tools. The only product you regularly used was a cleanser, a cheap one that didn’t even feel like it did anything.

As much as the products and their pretty packaging dazzled you (only for a second), you didn’t want to give into this life that Tangerine is forcing you in. So you only used the cleanser. And maybe some moisturizer, which really soothed your skin once you spread it on your face.

You were about to leave the bathroom and change, but your curiosity got the best of you and you started looking at all the makeup products. And damn, you wish you could use all the blushes and eyeshadows, but your pride overpowers anything at the moment. Except your want for food.

The hunger you feel is the type where your stomach quite literally feels empty, and every time it growls, it’s extremely loud and it hurts. Sighing, you put the mascara down and walk into the room. Despite how you feel, you do admit that the bedroom is very cute. You love the color pink and anything pastel. For a while, you had to keep that to yourself because your parents believed those were childish colors. After the age of 12, they criticized you for wanting baby blue dresses with little daisies and stuffed animals, and pretty much anything that was deemed immature.

You remember the fateful day when you turned 14, they “surprised” you by cleaning out your room of anything childlike. You were horrified when you came back from school and saw a dark purple comforter instead of your floral pink one, no stuffed animals, beige walls, and all of your posters taken down. Your white drawers and bed frame were replaced with dark wood. Making the entire room look like it belonged to a middle aged woman. She told you it was time to start growing up and becoming more mature for your age.

Your mother also took you shopping in the women's section. As she looked through the racks and picked out “mature” pieces of clothing, which consisted of casual business wear, you were eyeing a cherry printed top in the juniors section and sneaking off to smell fruity lip gloss.

When you see the outfit Tangerine had picked out earlier, you grumble at how it was your style, even more so when you put it on and it looked cute. You couldn’t remember the last time you wore a flowey skirt, you couldn’t remember the last time you even felt pretty. But you feel creeped out when you see your comforter, the same one you have in your apartment.

By the time you’re completely done getting ready, you force yourself to go downstairs, taking your time with each step. It takes a while, but you manage to find the kitchen after roaming the halls and different rooms. Once you enter the kitchen and look at the large dinner table, your mouth begins watering.

On the table are chocolate chip pancakes with powdered sugar, croissants, cut up fruit, tea and coffee with dainty cups, oatmeal, bacon, eggs, and different juices. The smell of breakfast filling your nose

“Sit.” He demands as soon as he sees you. You think you’ve done enough rebelling for now and listen without a second thought. You sit quietly in your seat, watching as he brings another plate of pancakes over.

“Did you sleep well last night?”

You don’t know what to say. Truthfully, yes you did. The best rest you have gotten in a long while, but the current circumstances and the events that lead you there have you questioning your answer. Despite that, you decide to answer honestly.

“Yes, I did.” You whisper and his only response is a hum as he sits down next to you.

“That’s good,” Tangerine says and begins piling food onto a plate. As much as you want to eat, you don’t know if you need to ask for permission or if you have to wait for him to finish eating first. Just as you're about to ask for a plate, Tangerine places the one he was holding in front of you and starts cutting up your pancakes.

You almost groan out loud when you take your first bite, but a hand on your chin that makes your head turn stops you, not even letting you swallow your mouthful of food.

“If you ever pull shit like that again, I’ll have you chained outside for a week. Got it?” Tangerine interrupts you with a sudden threat, though his words don’t align with his true feelings. As angry as he is, he just needs to scare and threaten you to make you behave. He has no intention of punishing you that badly, you’re too precious to him. Despite this, your frightened face does satisfy him and he can’t help himself when he leans over and kisses your cheek. You're too cute in your little outfit, damp hair, and stuffed cheeks.

“Okay.” You nod your head fast.

“And don’t talk with your mouth full, love. Coffee?”

You blacked out during breakfast after what Tangerine said, not literally, but the fear he brought out of you made your mind foggy. All you remember is Tangerine doting on you, kissing your face and smoothing down your hair, feeding you, telling you how pretty you look. Which made your face hot with embarrassment with all the attention he was giving you. It’s hard to admit, but you liked it, just a little.

It amazed you how he made you fear for your life one minute, then the next you tried your hardest not to react when he rubbed his hand up and down your back and played with ear lobe. You really almost forgot about trying to escape that morning and the fact that he abducted you because the slightest attention he gave you turned your insides into mush. But it lingered in the back of your mind as you chastised yourself for giving into his affection.

After a very long (but delicious) breakfast, Tangerine walks you to the couch where he explains he wants to give you a proper tour of the garden. Then he shows you a pair of shoes you’ve been wanting since your parents took them away.

The shiniest pair of Mary Janes with a thick, short heel.

The only pair of shoes you’ve owned in the last couple of years were sneakers, which weren’t bad, but you longed for something with a bit more femininity.

“I take it that you like them?” Tangerine asks, feeling immensely proud of himself when he sees your head nod and wide eyes. He kneels down in front of you, already holding some frilly socks. After putting on the socks, you tense when he gently holds your calf and slides the shoe on. Unlike only an hour ago, his feather-like touch tingles and goes straight to your stomach, butterflies fluttering.

Tangerine does this slowly, wanting to take extra care of you on this first day. He does your other foot and you’re trying not to make it obvious that you’re having trouble breathing. Everything about his position and touch was intimate, and the lack of that in your life made you react easily.

Before Tangerine pulls away, he notices your bruised knees once again, the blue skin and scrapes tugging at his heart. He holds your calf with both hands now and brings his lips down, very lightly kissing the skin on different places. His lips go lower with each kiss, now at your shin and rubbing your legs.

“Oh, I’m so sorry for this.”

“It’s okay.” You whisper. Simultaneously wanting him to get away from you purely because you’re not used to someone being this close, and wanting him to keep going. Your eyes stay on Tangerine as he stands up and extends his hand out, you can’t look away from him when you take it and stand up.

“It’s really not, but I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” He brings your hand up and kisses the back of it, all while maintaining eye contact. You nod your head in a trance, admiring his beauty and completely forgetting the events of the morning, which surprises Tangerine. He didn’t think you’d give in so easily, most likely because you’ve never been treated this way.

Poor girl, he thinks, then leads you outside, planning on taking advantage of your state of mind and showing you the wonderful things he has for you.

And it truly was beautiful once you got a good, proper look of the garden. You’d always had a love for flowers and dreamed of having a nice, big garden. This was something Tangerine figured out after sneaking into your home a second time and finding a pretty lilac journal he had somehow missed the first time. That’s where he really got a look into your wishes and wants, but you didn’t need to know that. For those months watching you from afar, one of the things he was working on was the garden and installing fountains and buying outside furniture.

You couldn’t help yourself as you lightly touched the peonies and carnations, their brightness in full bloom and their scent lifting your spirits. At least if you become overwhelmed and frightened of the man you have a safe haven.

You continue wandering around and stumble upon a gazebo across a small river, and you can’t decide what to focus on. The gazebo is white with a fence around it, and inside is a table and two chairs, but surrounding the gazebo is a multitude of different flowers. And around it is a small moat where you spot ducks and their bright yellow babies. It’s a lot to take in, the beauty of the scene in front of you taking your breath away. Then you feel a presence behind you and a chin on your shoulder.

“I figured we can eat our meals here, nice isn’t it?” You only nod, smiling as you continue watching the ducks and feel the sun on your skin with a light breeze. This moment feels so perfect.

–

You and Tangerine spent the entire day out in the gardens, but you made sure to keep a significant distance between the two of you. You didn’t want to be reminded that the reason you were even here was because of Tangerine, so you tried to remain blissfully ignorant and continued exploring.

Tangerine didn’t mind too much though, even though you were far from him, he knew you were enjoying your time in the sun and running around in your little skirt. He just hoped you didn’t become too excited and trip over yourself, his clumsy girl. But at the same time, he hoped you did just so he could touch you again and feel the softness of your skin beneath his lips. Another thing he knew was that you enjoyed his gentle touch, and he couldn’t wait until another moment turned up when he could do it all over again just to see you struggle to keep your composure.

Tangerine smiles as you bend down on your knees to pluck a flower, but it goes away when he sees you wince. He also notices that the ground you're on is quite mushy and muddy, so your shoes sink into the ground and your skirt brushes against it. You take notice of this as well and freeze, waiting for the man to yank you up and toss you in a dirty basement.

You hear footsteps coming your way and distract yourself with the dandelion for as long as you can. Tangerine stops behind you and kneels down behind you.

“That’s a very pretty flower you’re holding there, but I think it’s time we go back inside, don’t you think so?” He says with a soft voice, almost a whisper that calms you down just a smidge. You don’t dare to look at him when you nod, feeling embarrassed at the amount of time he has seen you with tears in your eyes, but Tangerine adores it.

“C’mon then, we’ll change your clothes and get you some more food.” Tangerine puts his hands under your elbows where they’re bent and lifts you to stand you up.

Before going back inside, Tangerine sits you on a chair on the patio and takes off your shoes. Once again taking his time but you’re still fearful of the consequences of getting your new shoes all dirty, as well as the hem of your skirt.

“I’m sorry.” You apologize, hoping he’ll have mercy on you. Tangerine looks up at you and his heart swells at your pout and teary waterline. You really are a sensitive little thing.

“No worries, darling. Just had a little too much fun running around, huh?” He strokes your chin with an adoring smile that makes you look away.

“But I got them dirty,” you gesture towards the Mary Janes Tangerine he’s holding, “got them all gross and my skirt too.”

You can’t help but profusely worry, your mind subconsciously going back to your parents and your childhood.

There was a time your mother had gifted you a very expensive blouse, not your style as it was just a plain white button up, but you still thanked her very much for it. You were never one to be ungrateful.

You wore it to your sixteenth birthday party, which was supposed to be for you, but it seemed to be for your parents when you saw many of their own friends instead of yours. And you had gotten your blouse dirty by accidentally splattering spaghetti sauce on it, too which your mother became furious. She dragged you up to your room, calling you all sorts of names that still stick to your mind.

Thoughtless, negligent, foolish. Why can’t you be more mature like the other kids down there?

You cried as she dug through your closet and drawers, “I’m sorry, it was an accident, I promise.”

She ignored you and finally found a good enough outfit for you.

“Change into this and come back down, it’s time you told your guests a thank you for coming.” Then she left you alone while you were still in tears. You also stayed away from pasta and anything saucy, afraid of your mother’s anger. These feelings would come back again if your grades weren’t up to your fathers standards.

And the worst part was that they never apologized for the way they treated you, so from a young age you thought it was normal for them to treat you that way. And any mistake you made, no matter if it was big or small, made you apologize excessively.

This treatment from your parents also made you feel small. You believed them when they called you every word that meant lazy or childish or small minded, which made you very insecure and built up your guilty conscience.

When you return back inside the house, Peach greets you. You completely forgot about the puppy, your anger and annoyance from the morning going away when you get a good look at her sweet face and wagging tail. You coo at her and Tangerine can’t help but smile at the interaction, but he needs to get you cleaned up.

“Alright come on now.” He places his hand on your lower back and guides you up the stairs.

Once in your room, Tangerine sits you on the bed and goes into your closet, your position giving you deja vu. Reminding you of the morning's events and you suddenly remember your position within the house. And you're horrified that you’ve gone almost the entire day forgetting about last night and how dangerous Tangerine is.

When he emerges back from the closet and sees your frozen and stiff state, his mood drops but he doesn’t let it show. He knew you would come down from your carefree state at some point but he was still upset about it. He liked seeing you so happy in the garden.

After letting you get dressed and a very quiet and awkward early dinner, Tangerine leads you to a different room within the house that makes your mouth drop. A library room with forest green book shelves and a giant couch in front of a large window that faces the garden. The room is beautiful, but what makes your heart soar with happiness is the empty bookshelf wall that has a ladder attached to it. You’ve always wanted one.

“Do you like it? I know you like this color green but I wasn’t so sure about it.” You don’t answer him, heading towards the velvet couch and imagining yourself getting lost in a novel while drinking some tea. You once again couldn’t deny how wonderful this was, and you also curse Tangerine in your head for somehow knowing your style so well.

“I really love it, Tangerine.” You whisper. Tangerine freezes hearing his name from your lips, he just loves the way your voice says his name so softly.

“Well, I’m glad, it’s obviously empty at the moment, but I figured we could get you some when the time is right.”

When you trust I trust you enough to not run off.

You nod your head, you know what he means and you try not to let it ruin your mood. You distract yourself by going to a small section of the room that already has a few books. When looking through them, you are horrified to see that you’ve read all of them already. Although you have a feeling you might know the answer, you turn to him with a frightened face.

“Did you go through my apartment?”

“It was the only way I could find out about you.”

The level of confusion and shock leaves you speechless. Which Tangerine catches onto and he himself realizes his words but doesn’t say anything else. Leaving the both of you in yet another awkward silence that makes you want to disappear.

“Well,” Tangerine starts, rubbing his hands together and looking around the room, avoiding your stare, “I have got some work to finish. I’ll be in my office just a few doors down. Would you like to stay here?”

You quickly nod your head, desperately wanting some time alone. Tangerine nods his head as well, and before leaving, he grabs a book from the shelf and hands it over to you. One you haven't read.

“I saw you didn’t have that one in the series yet, I also got you the rest of them” And he points to the remaining two books.

You can only stare at the cover and wonder what else he saw in your apartment. You start to think that he pitied you and that’s why he is doing all this, that he saw your life was so sad and thought it would be best to give your life a makeover. And you're angry now, furious even, again. What gives this man the right to take away your life and give you one he thinks is better? Sure, before meeting him you wished for a better everything. But you wanted to get it all on your own terms, with your own money and hard work. Not by force.

Unfortunately, when you’re feeling overwhelmingly emotional, whether you are sad or happy or mad, like right now, all your body can do is cry. The first teardrop falls and you quickly wipe it away, you don’t want Tangerine to see you like this and comfort you. The last thing you want is for him to be close to you.

When you look up, he’s no longer in the library. And the double wooden doors are closed. You get up from the couch and try to open them, but unsurprisingly, they’re locked. More tears leak out of your eyes and you begin knocking on the door softly.

“Tangerine, can I come out now? Please?” You sniffle.

Each time there is no answer, your knocks become harder and louder, making your knuckles hurt. Which then turns to you aggressively rattling the doorknob and tearfully screaming.

“Let me out you fuckin’ psycho! Let me out!” You yell and start pounding your fists on the doors which leave your hand throbbing. There is no answer and you feel the defeat in your bones.

“Please let me out, Tangerine. Don’t lock me in here, please open the door, I’m sorry.” You gasp through your hiccups and lay down on the floor, too tired to walk back to the couch.

Meanwhile, Tangerine sits in his office, willing himself not to unlock the doors and hold you back in his arms, squeezing you until you can hardly breathe. He takes a deep breath and goes back to the work in front of him when your noises grow quieter then come to a complete stop. He makes a promise to himself to make it up to you later, he looks at his calendar and sees your birthday is coming up. Right then he promises to make this birthday the best one you’ve ever had.

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I really appreciate comments on what you guys liked or didn’t like, just please be nice!! Any criticism is good or what your favorite part was. They really push me to write more!! :)

#tangerine x reader #tangerine #tangerine fanfiction #tangerine imagine #tangerine x fem!reader #bullet train #bullet train imagine

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