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idealisticrealism · 2 years

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TCL 2x03 recap

Oh boy these just keep getting longer lol. So many thoughts about 2x03 (and especially Armony, of course) under the cut.

Also, while I know a tiny bit about the direction of this season, I'm doing my best to stay as spoiler free as I can, so any discussion about future eps or plotlines in this recap are purely just my own speculation.

Oh god Thony holding Luca and crying as she explains again that Marco isn’t coming back… sure, show, just completely crush my heart, it’s not like I needed it anyway or anything

Fi and Arman should have a mop-breaking competition lol

Ughh all these ladies supporting each other and having fun together, this is what it’s all about! We so rarely get to see Thony truly smile (the Reloj dance scene was one of the very notable occasions…) so it’s so nice then it happens. Also Fi and Thony (Or maybe Martha and Elodie?) seem to have this little shoulder shrugging dance move they do (it was the same in 1x01) and I love it??

Arman and Robert both run clubs in Vegas and have never met before? Clearly one or both of them must have been working hard to avoid it… Also man if I didn’t hate Robert already for how he treated Thony, I would have started to dislike him by now purely because of how tense he makes my boy Arman lol. The imagery of them facing each other from opposite sides with Nadia in between was a nice touch tho

Ugh so much to love about this scene. Thony getting to use her doctor skills, Fi absolutely annihilating Alonzo, Thony being all proud of her sis and having her back, the ladies all sticking together, and of course, “Chop chop, Alonzo” :P

Poor Fi panicking after realising that she really can’t go back and that she is now responsible for the others who quit with her, but Thony is all cool and ‘we got this’-- lbr she’s known that they’ve been heading towards this for a while. Also her telling Vinny off was kind of hot– and he probably agrees! Let's face it, he probably has a thing for Thony lol (but then again who doesn’t???)

Oh wow they’re really selling off everything? I’m intrigued by the ring– @enigmaticfox suggested that it might have been the first big gift he bought for her after they ‘made it’ and became able to live the life they wanted to live, and so it was a symbol of that dream being achieved? Also while I actually prefer when the show doesn’t give us subtitles, I’m definitely over here side-eyeing the very clear decision that the writers made to a) make sure we knew that Nadia told him she loved him, and b), not to have him say it back to her…. (of course he does love her, but I’m just saying, there was definitely a narrative choice made there)

Excuse me but Arman has no right to be this hot?? The image of him standing in the doorway in that black tshirt, all cool and confident as he casually threatens Garrett’s life is going to live in my head rent free for approximately forever lol. “All I need is one” oh lord help me

Poor Thony can’t catch a break when it comes to Luca lol. But oh man medical scenes in tv are the worst, like nope that’s not what meds you’d use, that’s not how you pronounce that word, that’s not how you do that… there’s definitely a reason why I can’t watch hospital shows lol. But anyway I love the repeated commentary about how broken the US medical system is; this show definitely isn’t shy about getting its message across

Ngl, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about the kind of reunion scene that these two would likely have, and while the scene I’d been wishing they could have was quite different (I’ll fic it one day lol; it involves significantly more hugging haha) this actually was quite close to what I expected they would have– a lot of staring at each other and speaking in soft voices, but held back from anything more by the situation they’re in. And while the scene is simple and brief, honestly I think there’s a lot to like about it? Like the way their voices sound when they greet each other– it’s not the ‘oh hey I wasn’t expecting to see you’ kind of surprised tone that someone uses when they run into a friend unexpectedly, but more of a ‘I’ve been hoping to see you so badly and now you’re suddenly here in front of me and I don’t know what to say’. I love the tiny little pause after she says hey where they just stare at each other– it’s short, but still just long enough to be noticeable, just like the distance they’re standing at is just a little closer than what even most friends would– the magnetism is definitely real here, kids. Also something this scene made me realise is that Thony often crosses her arms when she and Arman are standing close to each other, but there’s nothing defensive or uncomfortable in it; I may be going off the fangirl rails here but I feel like the habit formed because she always wants to reach out to him but can’t let herself. But anyhow he makes it clear to her that despite already having plans, he will put them aside for her if she wants him to, and ugh when she agrees to the drink he immediately reaches for her, like he can’t keep himself from touching her any longer?? And then his hand just… lingers? Like okay, to touch her back for a moment as they turn would absolutely make sense, it’s a totally normal and common ‘come this way’ gesture. But instead he just keeps it there, keeping them connected as they walk into his club together in full view of any patrons and staff, all but claiming her as someone of significance to him. I also love her “You look-” (slight pause) “-better” lol, like she was almost about to say “You look good” and then decided that that would be a little too close to the truth of what she was thinking lol. It’s also interesting that in that moment, with her there beside him and his hand on her back, it’s the most at ease he’s looked all episode; while she looks like she’s practically holding her breath lol, like his touch and proximity is sending her nerves haywire. Or maybe that’s just me making shit up again! But either way, I loved this scene, even if it was a short and subtle moment. Couldn’t help but chuckle at him telling her he feels free though; between his debt to Robert and his obligation to Nadia, he’s practically as trapped as he was in prison. But I guess that for this one brief moment with Thony there beside him, he can forget about all of that :P

Ngl I love that they sat down and had a drink together in the bar, rather than going to his office– like being alone together would be too much of a temptation, too hard to keep the distance they need to keep, so they simply avoid it. She’s not long lost her husband, and he’s trying to save his wife from being condemned to a life of barely scraping by, and they’re both all too aware of it, and so each is holding back on behalf of the other. Also there’s just something about how the act of drinking involves hands and lips and ugh idk man, it feels like a bit of a proxy kind of thing to me rn lol. I will say that I need the show to stop chopping out chunks of their interactions though– seriously, stop leaving gaps that I feel compelled to fill, dammit-- but I assume he asked her how she was doing after the funeral etc, and maybe she even tactfully mentioned hearing about Hayak and asked how he was doing? And then of course he asks about Luca, and the moment she says she needs help you can immediately see that he’s going to give it, no matter what it involves. The man may be a big bad mobster but he’s also the world’s biggest simp when it comes to Thony haha. I honestly love that over the course of S1, she became more and more comfortable with going to him for help, as he steadily proved to her that she could rely on him and that he’d be there for her when she needed it. I also love how she pauses and puts down her drink when he mentions the military supplier, then asks him outright about the guns– she’s never been shy about calling him out on his shit, even when they barely knew each other and she was definitely stepping over a line– but this feels different, like she has a right to question his actions, like his decisions now involve her too. While early S1 Arman would have brushed her off, and late S1 Arman might have reassured her he knew what he was doing and that she should just trust him, this Arman immediately lays it all out for her, being completely honest about the situation he’s in and why he has to do what he’s doing, because it’s clearly important to him that she understands. And he makes it clear that he needs the money to be free of Robert, but honestly there might be another unspoken truth there too– that without the money, he can’t be free of Nadia, either. He has too much honour to abandon her to fend for herself, so if they lose everything he’ll stick with her no matter what, because he cares about her and it’s the right thing to do. And then ugh his face as Thony offers him up a solution for escaping his debt– a partnership, with her– but he’s afraid to take it. It’d mean venturing into the unknown, taking a gamble that could fail and leave him with nothing, and hmmmm I wonder if this is making him think of any other kind of risky venture involving Thony that he desperately wants to take?? There’s for sure some layers going on here, man. But anyhow ugh I gotta stop here because otherwise i will just rewatch this scene all night lol

Some random notes about the bar set, though: I don’t like the red lighting, reminds me too much of Robert’s place. Also I was sure those booths must be a new addition to the set but no they’ve been there all along (I checked 1x03 lol). And lastly why would they have the doors to the kitchen open when there’s clearly customers in the club?? These are the things I obsess about lol

Fi having trouble finding customers for their business makes me stressed, but ugh I loved seeing her grinning at their sign on the van. This woman deserves the world. Also ngl I kind of enjoy Mr Motel Manager? He’s such a caricature lol, and I know he’ll be taken care of soon enough. Also “You have until the end of the week” is very vague– end of the business week, or the weekend? What time?? How about you be more clear with your blackmailing, buddy??

Of course Thony tries to be logical about it– she’s spent enough time around criminals lately to have an idea of how their minds work– and I appreciate knowing that she actually did check for security cameras that night and didn’t just miss this big obvious camera that was pointed right at the four of them lol. But anyway she’s in a fresh shirt and she’s already going to pick up the meds that Arman managed to get for her– has it been a couple days, or is it literally just the next morning after their conversation?? I can imagine him working that fast for her. (Also did he text her or call her to tell her he got them? I need to know these things, show!) And lol at Fiona ordering her not to tell Arman about the blackmail; lbr we all know that talking to him about it was literally the first thing she was going to do. I’ve already said that I love that she goes to him about almost everything, but I really hope that this season we can see him needing her more, and her supporting him like he does for her. Based on some of the vague things said in interviews I think I might get that wish :P

Taking the matchbox was so unnecessary Garrett. You really can’t remember two words?? I like this other agent though, mostly because he has joined the ranks of the Garrett-draggers lol

Ugh poor Nadia trying to be all cool and tough for Arman’s benefit and then immediately dropping the act when he tells her how dire the situation really is. I am honestly really enjoying seeing more layers to her (even though liking her as a character makes my level of Armony shipping feel a little awkward haha) and I really do think they have a pretty amazing relationship. They have always had a different vibe to Armony– Armony is soulmate-level romantic, two people from vastly different lives who just fit each other and make each other better– whereas Arman and Nadia have always seemed more like bickering siblings, or comrades-in-arms. Their connection is based on a shared background, shared history, and shared drive; like Arman said, they both came from nothing and had dreams of becoming something, and for the last however many years, they have been a team in that goal. There’s absolutely love there, and attraction of course (how could there not be, they’re both smoking hot) and they would have likely remained together forever-- bickering and fighting and likely sleeping with other people, but also supporting each other and being each other’s person-- except then Arman met Thony, and it opened his eyes to the kind of connection he’d never even realised he could have. And yet, even so, he’s prepared to give up the very thing he wants so desperately– to give Thony up– because Nadia needs him, and he can’t abandon her, not like this. And honestly that choice will probably make Thony fall even more in love with him– bc seriously, imagine if he dropped Nadia right now (when their situation is so completely desperate) to try to be with Thony instead???? Thony would be like “nah man, I may be completely in love with you but I can’t be with someone who would turn his back on his family like that”. It would have been different if things were still as they were at the end of S1– if Arman had gotten safely out of jail with all the money still in their hands, then Nadia could have been given a sizeable chunk of it as well as the option to run part of the business, so she was still able to live the life she wanted to lead; if that had happened, then him leaving her to be with Thony would have actually been a genuine possibility. Still complicated and emotional and messy, but far more acceptable to all three of them than the situation they’re in now.

But anyway I’m getting distracted again. I’m honestly impressed that he said the medicine was for Thony, rather than hiding behind the idea that it’s for Luca, but I guess he feels he owes it to Nadia to be as honest as possible now, especially after her calling him out in the past for lying to her repeatedly about Thony. That’s growth, I guess? He doesn’t look like he’s enjoying it rn though haha. Gotta say I love this argument though– they both know that Thony has a hold on him, and hearing Nadia call her his cleaning lady rather than ‘a’ or ‘the’ cleaning lady was oddly satisfying. Ngl I was half expecting her to say something like ‘your little girlfriend’ or something instead though, and maybe that was where his mind went too, because he immediately countered by calling her out on her going to her ex boyfriend lol. (Oh so you equate your connection to Thony with Nadia’s connection to someone she was once in love with? Interesting, Arman, very interesting.) Anyway bit unfair of her to claim that it was just her that got him out of jail– literally, neither woman could have done it without the other, which kind of symbolises how important they both are in Arman’s life– but I’ll forgive her bc she’s having a rough couple of weeks lol. Tbh I’m glad he gave her a hug, though I’m even more glad that that wasn’t the moment that Thony arrived at the office lol. She doesn’t need to be reminded that she’s fallen for a man who [she thinks] she can never have.

Speaking of Thony’s arrival, though, I love that she doesn’t hold back around either of them now; she all but tells them to get their grubby mitts off the medicine, and shuts them down cold at the suggestion of selling street drugs. Hell, she even has Nadia moving out of her way as she packs up the meds. And lol at Arman caught in the middle, trying to balance both women’s agendas as he gets pressured by Nadia and berated by Thony hahaha. We all know who’s really calling the shots here, and it ain’t our boy. But oh wow Thony is 100% lying through her teeth about the regular medicines making as much profit as addictive street drugs– especially when her whole plan was to sell the medicines to people who couldn’t afford to get them in the US. She’d be having to sell HUGE numbers of those medicines to make a good profit, unless she wanted to charge poor immigrants through the nose for them (which, like I said, was the opposite to her plan), whereas the street value of Oxy or Xanax would be about $20 and $5 per pill respectively (it’s generally around $50 and $10 here, but I’m just making a rough guess of what it would be in USD lol). I can’t imagine that she doesn’t know this, which means she is taking the gamble that they’ll just take her word for it and follow her plan instead. And while they do seem to, I could definitely see Nadia and Arman actually going behind her back and secretly using their supply line to get and sell street drugs– because of the dire money situation they’re in– and then Thony later finds out (most likely right when she and Arman are getting closer again) and that betrayal temporarily drives a wedge between her and Arman. But who knows. What I do know is that I love the imagery of Arman standing in the middle of the two women who are almost like mirrors of each other– both with a hand on the hip, but with Nadia’s other hand on the desk and Thony’s on the box of meds. Ugh the symbolismmm. The fact that Arman is looking at Thony as he says ‘together’ is just fine by me too lol

Excuse me, how dare this scene just start with the two of them just standing together waiting for Bosco?? I’ve seen the clip on twitter of him getting out of the caddy and Thony watching him with literally the thirstiest look we’ve ever seen from her (same, girl, same) and now it turns out that they freakin cut it??? I feel robbed. I need to see that moment, just like I need to know what they were talking about while they were standing there waiting. (Again, stop making me want to fic it, goddammit). Also I would like to point out that Thony has her arms crossed again (and he’s fiddling with his sunglasses)-- it really is so hard for you two to not be allowed to touch each other, huh?

I would like to make it known right now that I love Bosco. I wasn’t sure about him in 1x06– he did put Thony in the back of the van, after all, but he also seemed serious when he promised Arman he would take care of her– but now i am definitely a fan. Firstly he got significantly hotter (phew, that haircut and that smile suit you, sir), but I also just love him teasing Arman about basically being whipped by Thony lol. I would say he’s absolutely right, but honestly, Thony doesn’t even need to do any whipping. Arman legit just throws himself at her feet without any prompting whatsoever haha. Also speaking of looking hot– holy shit, Arman in that black tshirt and jeans, grinning at his friend?? Help me jesus. And that low sound he makes as he waves off Bosco’s hand????? Poor Thony’s gonna get heatstroke at any moment, and not from the desert sun lol. I love that he makes sure to signal to her to come with him as they head for the van, not leaving her there wondering what she should do or to just trail along awkwardly behind them. And then he lets her take the lead with the meds, both him and Bosco treating her as the expert. I am so happy that my TV is good enough to see the brief little smile on his face at her reaction to seeing the meds for Luca, because oh my heartttt. And then he immediately thanks Bosco for making her happy his help lol. Ngl the fact that the riskiness of doing this under Sin Cara’s nose has already been mentioned twice makes me worry for Bosco though…. They better not kill my boy Bosco just as I got attached to him lol

Oh Vinny for sure has the hots for Thony lol. And very understandable when she’s being all badass businesswoman/doctor like this lol. I still can’t see the clinic as being particularly lucrative, but I love that she’s doing it. Also I know I say this like every week but damn this soundtrack is good??

Yikes, like I said, not lucrative enough. 58k short even after selling thousands of dollars worth of jewellery and a car or two? What the hell will they do for next week’s payment, sell a kidney each? (Or some street drugs, maybe….?). Also definitely intrigued by the way Nadia was staring at thony– what ideas is she cooking up in that gorgeous head? (again, street drugs? lol) Also having her standing directly between Thony and Arman in the shot… more symbolism, or?

From one money counter to another. I love that Thony kept aside the 10k for Fi, and let’s be fair, handing it over wouldn’t have solved Arman’s problem, so I think it’s valid for her to be like ‘he’ll figure it out’ lol. He has Nadia to work as a team with; she has Fi. They both have to be loyal to their team right now. And sigh Thony again tries to be smart about it but Fi won’t listen, and you can see that Thony has simply decided to just support Fi no matter what, even if it’s not the best way to handle it. She’s slowly learning that she has to give up a bit of control now and then and just be there for the people who need her, even if she disagrees with them. How's that for character growth.

I wonder if these women ever think about how weird their life has gotten, considering they have a mob boss on speed dial and an FBI agent who is starting to become a regular visitor at their door lol. I did suspect Garrett might bring in Thony to help him with Maya, but ugh I don’t like that he knows about Fi getting out the money. Good thing the dude has zero issue with rule breaking– for a man who claims to be on the side of the law, he sure ignores it a lot of the time. Which lbr is very fortunate for Thony, so I’m cool with it lol (ngl, getting real over his deportation threats though)

I find it like unreasonably irritating that the sign for The Clergy uses a cross to represent both an H and an L lol. I am now reading it as The Chergy haha. Also damn I was pumped to see Thony in goth wear, but ah well, I’m still into this outfit (undoubtedly borrowed from Fi). I know we’re definitely going to see Thony more dressed up at some point in this season, and the important thing is Arman being there to see it haha, so I guess we can skip it for now. Also ngl the concept of bathroom attendants makes me so uncomfortable but damn that was a genius move on her part, and I love that she canonically has the most sensibly stocked handbag ever lol

Ugh I feel for my boy Arman, this shit with Robert is clearly killing him. And then to be forced to basically be Robert’s errand boy? Must feel like he’s fallen a long way, almost right back to where he started. I liked Nadia reaching for his hand, checking in with him, but ngl it was satisfying to see him kind of brush it off haha

Wait what room is this?? An ensuite off of Fi’s room? This is truly an excessive amount of mirrors (and sinks!) lol

I so badly want Thony to get hit on by at least one woman in this bar lol. (It’s been far too long since her blatant popularity at Nadia’s party in 1x01 lol). But I guess I’ll have to content myself with the fact that she and Maya have more chemistry in this bathroom scene than either woman has had in any scene with Garrett hahaha. But oh Thony you really fell for that old fake name trick? Lol. BUT OKAY HOLD UP. “Who sent you? Was it Kamdar?” Holy shit. Not Cortez, KAMDAR. I did not see that coming, and oh man everything just got real incestuous all of a sudden– so Garrett has asked Thony (a person of interest in his current case) to check on his ex, who is caught up with a drug ring (which was his old case), a ring which apparently involves Robert, who happens to be Nadia’s ex, and who has now forced Arman (and by extension, Thony) into doing business with him. Damn, that is one tangled web and I am honestly really excited about it?? Also oooh if Arman and Nadia do what I suspect and start selling street drugs, then Robert will be sure to find out and get pissed off, and that would be one way for Thony to find out about it. Man I would actually love to see that, as upsetting as the ensuing Armony fight would be. For now though I really hope that Thony mentions her suspicions about Kamdar to Arman, but given that that would require explaining the Garrett angle (and we all know how Arman responds whenever Garrett is mentioned haha) maybe she won’t. Speaking of Garrett, Maya’s line about him not sending people like Thony into places they shouldn’t be definitely gives a little insight into Maya’s own experience as a CI…

Ugh Arman really needs to tone down the sexy gangster vibe a little, that leather jacket makes it very hard for me to focus. Also the “Are you seriously going to hit an old man?” and “I’ve done worse”-- okay I immediately want to hear about every single instance of those worse things lol. For… reasons. Gotta hand it to this incredibly vanilla-looking son though lol, not only did he manage to sneak up on Arman (that’s a bit of a stretch tbh) but he legit took him on with a tennis racquet?? I kind of respect that haha. And ngl I enjoy how swiftly and perfunctorily Arman neutralises him, like this is just another day in the office. Just saying though, that oxygen tubing would have for sure snapped under that kind of strain lol. It is not exactly designed to be hardy stuff. But ugh the look on Arman’s face as the son runs to get the money, my poor boy hates having to do this :(

They really highlighted the ‘you are on camera’ sign in this motel office lol. Which means thony was on camera when she went in there that night, and now Fi is on camera too… and a lot of other people, apparently? lol. Also other than being a creepy perv, the amount of animal heads on the walls also immediately makes me like this guy even less…

Okay Nadia being really into football is very hot haha. And oooh I love that as Arman walked in with the money, hating what he’d been forced to do, he would have seen Nadia and Robert smiling and sharing a drink at the bar. No wonder he threw the money down like that and practically dragged her out of there haha, like he didn't give up his closeness with Thony just for Nadia to cozy up with Robert!

Oh Fiona. If there was an award for making bad decisions, you’d definitely be in the running lol. And oh the naivete of thinking he’d delete the video… and of trying to threaten him with going to the cops about him filming customers, when that very footage would get Chris caught for Marco’s manslaughter? Oh honey. The physical struggle was hard to watch but omg that crack over the head and that scream?? Comedy gold haha. Poor woman just cannot catch a break lately (nor can any of our faves, tbh.) And now I guess we wait for next week to see if he’s actually dead (if so, wow, the felonies just keep piling up for this family lol) or if she just caused him to have a very impromptu nap lol. Either way, can't wait to see Arman come and rescue her and earn some points as her future brother in law lol

#The Cleaning Lady #Armony #TCL recaps #oh lord what have I done

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lvcygraybaird · 3 years

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WANDAVISION | PREVIOUSLY ON

Oh, your magic's no good here.

#wandavision #agatha harkness #wanda maximoff #wanda x agatha #wandavisionedit #wandavision spoilers #marveledit #wvedit #mcuedit #wv spoilers #1x08 #wandavision 1x08 #mygifsets #mygifs #myedits #spoilers #i didnt see anyone gif this scene yet and the way she kept says RUNES was just sending me hgjdhfgd #its not a word a say a lot so i would probably just casually pronounce it like ruins but that ISNT right so she was right to be dramatic 🤣#only the witch that cast the ROONS!!!! can use her magic

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andypantsx3 · 3 years

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Hii can I request a deleted scene for "if I could keep cool" that tells chapter 2 from Shouto's POV? I would absolutely love to c what was going through Shouto's head when he figured out that Y/N was just a cleaning lady and what was the moment that made him want to ask her out when he saw her at his house afterwards! Thank u!!

I accidentally got carried away, so this bad boy is 1.9k!! My apologies lol. I hope you like it!!

It wasn’t every day that someone told Shouto Todoroki to go fuck himself.

Particularly not quirkless civilians, and never those he’d rescued.

There was usually a lot more breathless gratitude, some bowing and scraping, and—mystifyingly—a lot of phone numbers, handkerchiefs, and very unsubtle attempts to get a hand or two around his biceps. Shouto didn’t really know what his biceps had to do with it, but he’d seen the same thing happen to Midoriya and Kirishima as well—and Bakugou once, before he’d nearly gnawed the woman’s hands off—so he assumed it was just another social cue he’d never understand.

As little as he cared for social cues, however, he was certain that there was usually a lot more thank you and a little less go fuck yourself involved in the whole rescuing process.

But then, he’d also never told off a civilian for having been kidnapped before.

A civilian who, he’d come to realize almost immediately afterward, hadn’t deserved it.

When he’d asked his mother her advice over the phone, she’d told him the best thing to do was to be honest and try to start fresh. “White flowers mean forgiveness—tulips new beginnings,” she’d advised him.

So Shouto had ducked into the nearest florist and brought back an apology in hopes that you would accept it.

He might have known, however, that you’d manage to turn even a simple apology completely on its head.

The clatter of cleaning supplies in his kitchen on Thursday afternoon told Shouto you’d let yourself in for your usual shift. He followed the sound, only for it to halt at his approach, the kitchen seemingly empty as he drew nearer.

He stopped short, fighting down a surprised swell of amusement when he realized you’d ducked down, hiding yourself behind his counters as if anyone, especially a pro hero, might be fooled by that.

“I know you’re there,” he said, keeping his tone even.

He heard a muttered swear word, and then you were rising slowly to your feet, wearing a sheepish expression, and clutching a bottle of windex like a weapon.

You looked just as you had the day of your rescue, though obviously a little less harrowed by a kidnapping. You were dressed casually in jeans and a simple shirt, no indicator that you were an employee of a cleaning service—Shouto felt at least a little justified in his mistake from last week.

You were clearly a college student, the backpack dumped at his kitchen island was evidence of that much, overflowing with textbooks and notes as it was, and you looked just slightly disheveled, like you might have come straight from class.

It was part of some nebulous, unassuming appeal to you, now that he had occasion to notice. He’d remembered your features twisted up in disdain, but they were open in surprise now, your eyes wide, fixed on him. His own eyes were drawn to the scrunch of your nose, a little curl of embarrassment that he suddenly found himself unable to tear his gaze away from.

“I, uh, thought you weren’t supposed to be here,” you admitted to him with a visible cringe.

Shouto almost laughed. He didn’t know much about you, but it was clear to him now that you weren’t anything like a crazy fan. You looked like you’d rather be anywhere but here at the moment. In fact, you looked rather like you might bolt any second.

A strange feeling shifted in his chest, and Shouto cut right to the chase.

“I owe you an apology,” he said simply.

You startled so violently that you dropped the windex. “W-what?”

Shouto sighed, admitting, “My manager schedules the cleaning days. I didn’t realize that you were—that is to say, I thought you were a fan who had broken in and managed to get kidnapped while you were at it.”

You gaped, another confused little expression that Shouto found himself fixating on with an intensity that surprised him. The weird feeling in his chest shifted, burning a little hotter.

He wondered absently what other expressions he could get you to make.

“Oh, I, um...nope. Not a fan,” you said, and the feeling grew more insistent.

He paused over the phrasing—not a fan.

It had never bothered him before, when someone was a bigger fan of a classmate than they were of him, or weren’t really a hero fan at all. Shouto honestly did not quite understand why hero work was so tied up in fandom in the first place, and only attended fan events because his manager’s temper was not a thing to be trifled with.

He wanted to be a hero who put people at ease, but ease was the last thing he felt with people clamoring all over him. Fighting villains was infinitely more preferable.

So why did your admission that you weren’t a fan of his niggle at his brain, like a particularly insistent parasite?

Who were you a fan of, if not him?

“...Well, glad that’s cleared up now. I’ll just, uh, go then,” you said, grabbing an armful of the cleaning supplies and shoving it back under the sink hastily.

Shouto had moved before he knew what he was doing, getting himself in between you and the door out to the hallway.

“Wait,” he said, feeling uncomfortable. “I want to make up for what I said to you. You...didn’t deserve that, especially not right after you’d been kidnapped by a villain.”

He watched you eye the space between his hip and the counter, like you were considering making a break for it. As he watched your face, he felt some strange hope that you might try it, a certainty he would catch you.

...Why did he want to catch you?

You waved a hand. “It’s fine. You saved me, we can call it even.”

Shouto’s mouth turned down minutely. He’d behaved badly, but surely you’d credit him better manners than that. “It’s my fault you were taken in the first place. I’d like to apologize properly.”

Your face did something weird, then, another distracting little curl of the nose. “You don’t actually have to go fuck yourself,” you blurted.

Shouto stared at you, caught off guard.

“Uh, I mean. You saved my life,” you babbled suddenly. “And yeah what you said to me was super rude, but what I said to you was also super rude. So, um, I’m sorry too. And I really would just like to call it even and forget about it because it’s super embarrassing for both of us and I could literally die thinking about it.”

You stopped suddenly, looking self-conscious like you’d realized you’d been rambling. Shouto almost wished you hadn’t.

“I hadn’t really planned on it,” he said quickly.

“Hadn’t planned on what?”

“Fucking myself,” he clarified. You choked on a shocked laugh, and he let a small smile tug at his mouth—there.

Finally.

Finally you looked a little more comfortable with him.

Shouto tried hard not to look too pleased with himself.

“Oh, well that’s good, then," you said. Then you puffed up a little, adding, "That’s probably a job for your actual secret lover.”

Good lord. “Not you, too.”

You threw him a smile, and Shouto’s heartbeat tripped over itself. “But I have evidence. I saw that homemade soup in your fridge once with the love note attached.”

It took him a moment to focus on what you were saying, but Shouto recalled the soup in question. It had been quite good, even if Bakugou had spent almost a half an hour ranting about what a weak ass little bitch he was for catching a cold. It had almost been worth it, the soup was that delicious. “Ah yes. That secret lover.”

“Cute pet name, too,” you said.

Shouto let out a low laugh, recalling the note. “You fucking fuck, was it?”

You laughed too, tension easing from your shoulders. Shouto’s eyes hungrily traced even that small movement.

A dawning sense of what was happening finally settled over him as he pronounced, “As it happens, however, I did already plan more of an apology.”

You looked up at him, your brow furrowing. “You planned...more of an apology?”

He gestured to a tall vase of white tulips on the kitchen counter. Your eyes went a little rounder as you observed them. You looked like you weren’t sure if they were for you, as if there were another previously kidnapped cleaning girl lurking about, who might be in need of an apology.

What a fascinating thing you were.

“I’ve been told that they mean forgiveness and new beginnings. I had hoped that we might...start over,” Shouto explained. He couldn’t help but feel self-conscious.

“I didn’t bring you any flowers,” you blurted.

He covered up a surprised laugh with a cough, the feeling in his stomach burning hotter. “I hadn’t expected them.”

He watched you turn back thoughtfully to the bouquet, certain now.

Over the phone, his mother had also said white flowers carried connotations of honor and purity. Two notions, Shouto realized with a growing sense of curiosity, that may be entirely inapplicable to his feelings about you.

He didn’t know much about you, but he knew for certain that he’d like to know more. And as he watched you reach out to pluck at a petal, wearing a shy little smile, he thought that yes, honor and purity had very little to do with his intentions at the moment.

You thanked him for the flowers, and Shouto made it clear to you that he hadn’t meant what he’d said about you being unwelcome here. He wanted—no, desired your return now.

“That’s good to hear, thank you,” you said. Then your smile went a little mischievous. “As you can see, though, it didn’t really deter me.”

Shouto let himself smirk. “If I hadn’t seen the cleaning supplies already on the counter, I would be concerned that you’d come back for revenge.”

“There’s still time,” you joked. “Maybe I was going to play the long game and fill all the bottles with Sprite.”

The mulish statement surprised him into another laugh. “I hope the flowers are enough of a deterrent.”

You looked over the flowers again, then smiled up at him. His eyes caught on your mouth.

“The bribe has been accepted. Your countertops are safe from me.” You paused, then added, “For now.”

The hot feeling was everywhere now, simmering just underneath Shouto’s skin. He left himself lean towards you, relishing in the way your breath caught in a tiny hitch. “Be warned that I will do whatever it takes to ensure the safety of my countertops.”

You complained that he hardly used them, but complied nevertheless. Then you bullied him out of the kitchen, that tiny little scrunch back on your nose.

Shouto let you have your way, making his way over to the couch and settling on it with a book he had absolutely no intention of reading. Instead, as he watched you clean, he considered things.

He had always been straightforward about his goals. Once he’d chosen heroism as his dream, he’d let nothing stand in his way, working diligently all through UA, shooting nonstop through the ranks before breaking into the top five this year, one of the youngest to have ever done it.

He was deliberate about what he wanted. He worked hard for what he wanted.

And as he wandered back towards the kitchen, questions ready in his mouth, he knew what else he wanted.

He wanted to know more about you.

He wanted to spend more time with you.

He wanted…

Well, he rather thought he wanted you.

I was going to edit this but every time I went to touch it, I made it worse. I hope you liked it anyway!

Garbage Fest masterlist & schedule.

#garbage fest 2021 #garbage fest questions

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heauxplesslydevoted · 3 years

Text

Coming Down (Ethan x MC)

Summary: They break up. Dassit

A/N: I’ve been tired of this imposter Ethan, and the back of forth nature of his romance route for the entirety of book 3, so I wrote this.

Warnings: None

Title Inspo

~v~

Naomi’s fingernails tap impatiently against her leg as the shrill ring of her cell phone rings at her ear. It rings 5 long times before she’s sent to voicemail.

“Hello, you’ve reached Dr. Ethan Ramsey. I’m sorry for not answering your phone call, but leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you.”

“Ethan, it’s me...again. I haven’t heard from you in,” lifting her wrist, Naomi checks the time on her watch, “wow, in over 24 hours. I’ve been calling and calling, to no avail, and you just aren’t responding.”

The news of Ethan getting hit with a malpractice lawsuit hit her like a freight train. As soon as things started to feel good again, as soon as the diagnostics team started to find its rhythm with two new physicians, this torpedoes any chance of normalcy she could ever experience.

“If you could give me a call back and let me hear the sound of your voice, that’d be great. Bye.”

There’s a lot more that she wants to say, but she’s been given a limited window of time so Naomi hangs up.

Switching tactics, Naomi opens up her messages, and scrolls to her thread with Ethan.

Naomi: Hi

Naomi: Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you in a while.

Naomi: Can you at least reply, telling me to leave you alone?

Naomi: At this point, I’d settle for at least knowing if you’re alive.

She waits a few minutes, and when she gets no response, she shoves her phone into the pocket of her white coat. Anxiousness and worry pools in the pit of her stomach, and the only thing she can think about is Ethan’s well being. And this situation doesn’t bode well because Naomi is still in the middle of her shift.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of quiet chatter as the door to the diagnostics team’s office opens and in walks Tobias and Harper. Their conversation is cut short once they notice the youngest member of the team.

“Hi, Naomi,” Tobias greets, an easygoing smile adorning his face. “What’s up?”

She wishes she could feel as casual as he looks, because every part of her body is twisted inside out and turned upside down.

“Have either of you talked to Ethan today?” Naomi asks, skipping the pleasantries.

“I spoke to him yesterday just to gauge how he was handling the malpractice suit,” Tobias answers. “Obviously, the conversation didn’t last long because he and I rarely interact outside of these four walls, but he seems…” he trails off when he notices Naomi’s face fall. “What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

Any other time, Naomi would be ecstatic to hear about Tobias extending an olive branch, and Ethan actually accepting the support, but today isn’t that day. She’s been trying to get in touch with him all day with no success, but he answers a phone call from his sworn enemy?

“I haven’t heard from Ethan today, so I’m at least glad to know he’s breathing,” Naomi says, her voice tight.

Too caught up in her own pity party, Naomi misses the way Tobias and Harper exchange worried glances. The team has been through enough the past few months, the last thing they need is romantic friction between Ethan and Naomi seeping into the office.

“Maybe he’s turned his phone off since then?” Tobias suggests. “Times like this can force you into an introspective mood, and he’s probably going technology free.”

Naomi chuckles humorlessly. She appreciates Tobias’s effort to satiate her foul mood, but she can’t think of a single excuse short of death that could justify Ethan’s behavior.

She stands, dusting off her coat and straightening it out. “Thanks. I’m going to get some lab work done on our patient, page me if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

Without another word, Naomi exits the office.

Working helps slightly. For an hour or so, Naomi is successful in turning off her brain and focusing diligently on work. She manages to not think about Ethan at all.

Until she hears his name brought up in conversation. She’s strolling towards the nurse's station when she sees Sarah and another nurse, Ronnie huddled in a corner.

“Sounds like Dr. Ramsey’s not as perfect as everyone thinks, huh?”

“Screwing up a standard tracheotomy that way? Frankly, I’m just surprised it took the patient this long to sue!”

Naomi slows her steps before she stops walking all together. The nurses are so engrossed in their conversation, they don’t even notice her.

“I heard from Marlene that the patient wouldn’t have even needed a trach if they hadn’t dosed her wrong in the first place,” Sarah adds in an excited whisper.

“Seriously? That’s next level…”

Her first instinct is to stop this, to tell them to stop talking, the urge to protect Ethan still as strong as it’s always been.

But she stops herself from doing that. Because why should she? Why should she put forth the effort to defend the honor and reputation of a man that doesn’t even have the decency to answer her phone calls?

And just like that, she’s plunged back into her flurry of conflicting emotions: worry, fear, annoyance, and most of all, anger. The emotions war inside her, all fighting for dominance, and she hasn’t felt like this since her intern year when he left to go to South America without any sort of goodbye or correspondence.

That wasn’t a good period in her life. Naomi can still feel the cold grip of anxiety that plagued her chest when she came into work one day and he was nowhere to be seen. She heard through a LVN that he left before confirming it with Naveen. She can still taste the saltiness of the tears she shed after leaving her 5th unanswered voicemail. Experiencing such a high of beating her ethics trial and getting picked for the diagnostic team, and the low of him leaving in that short amount of time left her spiraling and isolated, and it took entirely too much time clawing herself out of that dark place.

Turning on her heel, Naomi speed walks in the other direction, her original plan long forgotten. The hospital passes her by in a blur as her legs move, the rest of her body and brain moving on autopilot.

She doesn’t stop moving until she’s in front of the residents’ lounge. She spots Aurora, Bryce, and Sienna sitting at a table.

“Naomi, come join us!” Sienna exclaims. “We’re going to make cappuccinos with this fancy machine.”

“I’ll have to take a raincheck on that,” Naomi says. She turns to Bryce. “Can I borrow your car keys please?”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just have a couple errands to run and I don’t feel like taking the train. I’ll bring it back with a full tank of gas and everything.”

“I’m not gonna nitpick you about gas, Omi.” Bryce’s warm gaze sweeps across Naomi’s face, studying her. If he notices anything wrong with her, which he probably does because Bryce is a lot more perceptive than he gives himself credit for, he thankfully doesn’t mention it. He reaches into the pocket of his mint green scrub pants and pulls out his keys. He tosses the keys to Naomi with a wink, and she catches them mid air.

“I keep a shovel in the trunk in case you need to bury a body.”

Whether he realizes what is going on with her, or if he just cracked a joke to lighten the mood, Naomi is grateful either way.

~v~

Naomi spends an hour driving around Boston, people watching and attempting to collect her thoughts before she ends up in Back Bay at Ethan’s apartment complex. She didn’t want to go to his house in her previous state, guns blazing and emotions all over her place.

Even on the ride on the elevator up to his unit, her stomach is in knots and her heart beats faster than normal. She hasn’t been this nervous about seeing Ethan in a long time, and it dawns on her just how fucked this entire situation is. Why should she be nervous to talk to the man who claims to want to be with her?

Steeling her nerves, Naomi issues three sharp knocks to Ethan’s front door. Approximately 45 seconds pass before the door opens.

“Naomi!” Ethan’s eyes widen when he sees her standing there. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you going to let me in, or should we have this conversation in the hallway?” Naomi asks. Ethan steps aside, widening the door so Naomi can enter. “Thank you.”

The apartment is stale, like Ethan hasn’t opened the windows in a few days. He looks disheveled, the bags under his eyes are extremely pronounced like he hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep.

For lack of a better word, Ethan is a mess. And she wants nothing more than to just...wrap her arms around him and make everything better. But she doesn’t. She keeps her distance.

Ethan shuts the door before turning back to her. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No.”

“Well let’s sit down.”

“No, I think I’d rather stand because I don’t plan on being here long.”

The coldness stuns Ethan. Naomi almost seems indifferent towards him, something he’s never experienced before. It doesn’t go unnoticed that she didn’t bother greeting him warmly, no hug or kiss, no excitement in her voice, nothing.

“I needed to see with my own two eyes that you were alive and well,” Naomi starts. “Because you’ve gone radio silent on me. I know you’ve seen me calling and texting. Your phone works just fine because you picked up a call from Tobias of all people.”

He averts his gaze, ashamed of himself. “I’m sorry, I–”

She holds up a hand, stopping him mid-sentence. Naomi doesn’t believe for one second that he’s apologizing due to actual remorse. “I have spent the entire day wracked with intense worry. I feel like I’ve been turned upside down, and I could barely focus on work. Every time I thought I could be productive, something or someone was there to remind me of you. And then I’d spend more time ruminating over you and your situation, and the fact that you’re ignoring me, and then I’d feel like absolute shit. And earlier today, as I listened to the nurses gossip about you, I realized that this feels so much like your two month sabbatical to the Amazon, and our relationship hasn’t changed at all since then.”

“That’s not true,” Ethan argues.

“It is,” Naomi insists. “One step forward doesn’t mean anything if we end up taking two steps back immediately afterwards. A year and a half later, you’re still holding me at arms length, keeping yourself closed off, ignoring my calls.”

“I don’t mean to do this, to be this way.”

“But you continue to do it, so at this point you have to see it’s a pattern. You won’t even open up and talk to me about this lawsuit that’s being waged against you.”

“I just don’t want you getting needlessly involved.”

“While it’s a noble excuse, it’s complete and utter bullshit. If you think you’re doing something to save my reputation, remember nothing you do will ever top me almost losing my medical license my intern year, and then having a resident face a malpractice lawsuit a few months later. So come on, give me another excuse.”

“I’m doing this for you!”

“How? How could this possibly be for me?”

“Everything I touch becomes tainted!” Ethan snaps. “Because there is something wrong, in which everyone arounds me leaves or dies, or everything falls apart. I don’t have control or autonomy over anything, so yes, the one precious thing in my life, I’m too scared to touch.”

“But I have been right here with you! I was right here in this exact same spot when we worked on Naveen’s case. I sat by your side while we watched over Dolores’s son. I was there when they wheeled your mother into the hospital, and when you took her to rehab. Time and time again, I’ve proven to you that my loyalty is steadfast, and not once have I ever wavered, so you don’t get to stand here and punish me for some unrealized fear. You don’t get to treat me like I’m a passenger in this relationship, if you can even call it that.”

That’s what gives him pause. “Of course this is a relationship.”

“This isn’t a relationship, I am just a woman you sleep with. Occasionally you open up to me, we share a cute moment and promises, and then you clam up and up goes the barriers, and it starts all over again. And every single time, we’re a little bit deeper into this thing we’re in. I’ve shared more, I’ve let myself be more vulnerable with you, emotionally and physically, I’ve deluded myself into thinking ‘This time it’s the real thing,’. And I’m afraid that this is going to be our reality. One day I wake up, 3 years in, tentatively living with you, trying to settle into the pieces of a life I’ve scrounged up with you, and you do this again.”

“I don’t speak on it, and I don’t like to because I try to keep it all together, but you don’t understand the toll it takes on me every time we do this back and forth. I was a train wreck when you quit. I had the trial looming over my head, Landry, a guy I considered one of my closest friends betrayed me in the worst possible way, you weren’t the only person scared of losing Naveen, and I couldn’t even verbalize any of it to you because you slammed a door in my face when I tried to bring it up, and then you left me. And then you did it again, and I spent two months worried that you might not even come home because you could contract the deadly disease you were off fighting. And then you go on national television declaring your relationship status, and you made promises to me on my deathbed that led nowhere, and then finally we make some headway in Hawaii and establish what we have going on, and then I come home to this. So while you say one thing to me, time and time again, your actions say otherwise. It’s clear I’m not a priority.”

This conversation triggers Ethan’s fight or flight response. He doesn’t know where this conversation is headed, but he’s smart enough to know it’s nowhere good.

“Naomi, what are you saying? Spell it out to me like I’m a preschooler.”

“I think we need a break,” Naomi says in one breath, afraid she’ll break if she prolongs this any further. The six words leave a sour taste in her mouth that she has to choke back.

“No,” Ethan’s tone is gruff, and the seriousness almost startled Naomi. “No, we’re not breaking up.”

“From where I’m standing, we already have,” Naomi retorts. “I’m just confirming it.”

Ethan takes one long stride towards Naomi, but she takes a step back. “Look, I am a daft asshole to put it mildly, and I know I have a lot of work to do, but this is by no means a reason for us to break up.” He takes another step forward, and now Naomi is backed up against the door. He tugs her forward, wrapping his arms around her. “I am sorry. I know the words probably sound hollow, but trust me when I say I mean it. I’ll fix this, I’ll do whatever it takes. You’re the only person I want, the only one I’ll ever want, and I’m not losing you. Not now, not ever.”

Through this right embrace, Naomi can feel just how rapidly his heart is beating. He’s scared.

A tear slips from the corner of her eye, and she’s too drained to even wipe it away. “This is reactionary. You’re saying all of this because you’re panicked, but if you meant any of what you just said, it wouldn’t take the threat of a breakup in order to want to change things.”

“It shouldn’t have taken me this long to realize what a fool I’ve been,” Ethan says. He refuses to let go of her, his arms still wrapped so tightly around her petite frame, he almost worries about crushing her.

“I agree.” What does that even mean? She gives him nothing more than that, and Ethan is left to stew in his own doubt and worry. Naomi breaks free of his embrace and presses a palm to his chest, signaling him to give her some space. “But I still think we need some space.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Trust me, I do.”

It becomes hard to breathe. When Ethan woke up this morning, the last thing he expected was Naomi to dump him. “What can I do? Tell me how to fix this. Do you want consistency? Done, I’ll talk to you every single day, multiple times a day. Transparency? Sit down right now, and I’ll explain this entire lawsuit top to bottom. You want proof that I’m never going to up and leave again, you can take my fucking passport. Naomi, I don’t care what I have to do, I will do it, but I will not accept you walking out of that door.”

Naomi inhales deeply, trying to stop a full son from bursting out of her chest. He’s saying all the right things, but at the wrong time. It’s too late now. “I’ve warred with myself all day about this decision. You’re clearly not in the right space to sustain a healthy relationship, and that’s fine. I just need to remove myself from the situation, for my own health and well-being. And I think you need to do the same.”

“So...what? This is it? It’s over?”

“Let’s be honest Ethan, you never gave us the opportunity to begin.” She wants to touch him so badly, reach out a run her hand through his hair or stroke his beard one more time. It takes everything in her to not. “You’re a great doctor, one of the best ones I know, so I really hope you beat this entire lawsuit and I get to see you back at Edenbrook. Take care of yourself, Ethan.

Ethan shakes his head in denial. He refuses to let things end like this, and for her to give him the same cool professionalism she extends to every other coworker.

“Naomi, wait–”

She’s out of his apartment before he can convince her to stay. It doesn’t register until he hears the soft click of her door shutting that she’s actually gone. And another minute passes before the gravity of the situation finally dawns on him.

For the first time in a long time, he’s truly alone.

~v~

Tags: @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest @schnitzelbutterfingers @missmiimiie @stateofgracious @mooons-isabelle @doilooklikeiknow

#playchoices #choices: stories you play #open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #dr. ethan ramsey

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sinfully-chubby · 3 years

Note

Omg I want a request for Sammy Winchester!!!! So here we go: Sam likes when the reader wears his flannels because they cling to her curves and pronounce them? He thinks it’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen so he makes it a point for her to wear them everywhere?

Hey thanks for sending this in. I'm sorry if this is coming late. I got really busy with school and the holidays that came up as well. I had fun writing this and I hope you like and enjoy it.

Curves - Sam Winchester x Plus Size/Chubby Reader

Warnings: Not really to much to warn about. There might be body appreciation and just implied smut, but no actual smut

Word Count: 1,630

The first time he caught you wearing one of his plaid shirts was way before the two of you had gotten together.

Him and Dean had been on a hunt out of state. The hunt was a pretty long one and you had stayed behind, helping them from the bunker. The hunt ended on a pretty good note, they luckily had very few casualties and he was just happy to be home.

Walking through the doors of the bunker, they had made there way down into the building. Once inside they were greeted by you coming form the direction of the library. While Dean had greeted you with the usual flirt, Sam could only stare at you. There you were standing in the map room wearing his flannel shirt. He stared at you enjoying the sight of you in his shirt. It was pretty big on you, but it seemed to not only hug your body, but seemed to be falling of it as well.

He had even let out an obvious gulping sound as he stared. When Dean finally walked away, you had turned your look to him smiling your pretty smile, making his heart flutter at how cute you were. When you greeted him you smiled more tilting your head waiting for a response.

"Hey Sam are you ok?"

Nodding his head he gave you a small smile in return.

"Yeah I'm alright, y/n why are you wearing my shirt?"

When you looked down at the shirt your nervously started fiddling with the ends of it. You looked so cute when your were shy or nervous.

"I don't have any clean clothes right now."

"So why my clothes?"

He wasn't angry, he could never be angry over this, but he was very curious.

"I didn't want to go into Dean’s room. he may have cleaned it, but I'm scared something came to life and lives there now. What with how long he camps in there with food sometimes."

He gives a small laugh at the adjusting the bag on his shoulder.

"I don't blame you, something probably did."

Laughing at that, you both settle down walking further into the room. While talking Sam couldn't help but wonder what you would look like in his shirts all the time.

Sadly it wouldn’t be for another few months until you wore another shirt claiming you once again didn’t have clean clothes. Luckily the next time was after a hunt.

This time you had tagged along, helping out with what seemed to be a den of vampire's. The hunt had been long and tiring and not having enough energy to start driving home so you had decided to crash at hotel for the night. There were only two beds and a pull out couch, so you had decided to take the pull out couch even though Sam had offered up the bed but you had declined, he wish he could have shared the bed with you.

You had called first shower after the hunt was over, of course Dean griped about it. So of course when you guys had gotten there you had went in with your duffel bag hanging off your shoulders.

You weren't in there for to long, but Sam almost chocked on the quick in take of breath when you walked out of the bathroom. There you were standing in the doorway of the bathroom wearing Sams favorite flannel shirt. It was the red flannel. It was unbuttoned slightly and hanging slightly off of one of your shoulders showing off the black spaghetti strap tank top. The shirt came down towards mid thigh showing the small skin tight black shorts.

Letting out an audible gulp he started at you as you toweled off the top of your head. While he gaped at you, Dean was watching his brothers reactions from the small table in the corner of the small motel room. Dean snickers at him laughing at how flustered Sam looked. Smirking to himself Dean, as casually as possible, stood from his chair, grabbed his jacket form the back and threw it on quickly.

"Well I'm gonna go grab us something to eat."

And without another word to you or Sam, he left walking right out the door while you and Sam stared after him.

Once the door was closed you glanced at Sam, nervous about being alone with him. It wasn’t a big secret, Dean knew of course, as well as Jody to. But it didn’t make you any less nervous being around Sam.

Taking in a deep breath Sam gave you a nervous smile as he stared at your bare feet on the floor. It had been a while sense you and Sam had really been alone, sure there where small moments, but people always had a way of either appearing or are already lurking. So in all reality there was never really a moment alone.

Messing the skin around your nails, you smiled at Sam as you went to sit down the pulled out couch bed. You looked nervous as you sat down tentatively on the couch bed. Once you were sure it wouldn’t get crushed or collapse under your weight, an irrational fear yes, but one the worried you none the less.

You sat down trying to get as comfortable as you can as Sam smiled at you.

"Tonight's hunt went by pretty quick. Good thing to."

Sam nodded his head in agreement tapping his thumbs together before responding.

"It was quick and efficient, no thanks to you."

Shrugging your shoulders you smile looking down at your feet, not caring about how the big shirt slipped further off your shoulders. Looking at where the shirt had slipped Sam eyed you s/c skin. Eyes following the parts where your body curved out, and looking at the dip of your low cut tank top shirt.

Now don't get him wrong a shoulder wasn't gonna make him start climbing walls, but when he looked at you all he wanted to do was mark up and enjoy the sounds of pleasure that would come out of your mouth. If he were to continue, what would be stopping him from throwing you to the bed and taking you apart piece by piece.

To say the least the thought was very, very tempting.

"All I did was help with the searching and interviewing nothing to special."

Sam had almost forgotten about the conversation at hand. So standing from the bed he walks over and sits down next to you. Your shoulders brush against each other, a warmth settling in your chest at the close proximity.

"But the help was very much appreciated."

You give a hesitant smile, enjoying the warmth Sams body was letting off.

"I'm glad I was able to help, its better than just sitting in the bunker waiting to hear what happens."

"I understand what you mean, I used to worry about all the people who went on other hunts, and when they didn't report back I would get concerned."

Nodding your head you lay your head on his shoulder letting a small smile grace your lips.

"I worry about you guys all the time. But I worry about you the most."

For once Sam feels sheepish as he smiles at you feeling a little flushed at what you had said.

"You worry about me?"

You feel heat rising to your face as you duck your head once more raising your hand to scratch at the back of your head. It wasn't like a weird awkward thing, of course you worried about Sam. After all you did love the giant moose man even if he didn't know.

"Of course I do Sam, what you and Dean do isn't easy, and is definitely very dangerous."

He nods his head at that, he could see why you would be worried. Reaching out to you, he wraps his arm around your back grabbing your other shoulder and pulling you towards him in a hug.

"It's alright y/n I know the feeling. Even though you don't hunt a lot, your life is still in constant danger. Even just by knowing me and Dean."

Leaning into the hug you lay your head on his shoulder.

"Yeah well you can't get rid of me that easily."

Smiling a each other you let out a small laugh.

"I wouldn't want it any other way."

Almost like being drawn towards you. Sam leans down kissing you softly. Your surprised at first but lean into the kiss more. Deepening the kiss Sam and you move further onto the little pull out couch Sam's arms wrapping themselves around your waist and pulling you into his lap. Thighs spreading wide as you settled down, pressed tightly to Sam.

To say the least the night ended pretty well. That is if you minus the ruined sheets and maybe the broken pull out bed. In the end Dean didn't come back to the hotel room that night, Sam and you never got any sleep.

But ever sense then you and Sam have been going steady. There have been times when things seemed to hit rough patch, and times where you would hate your body so much that it made you sick looking at yourself.

But Sam's always had a way of helping you though it as much as he can. In the end if one of Sam's many plaid shirts went missing he would always find you wearing one. Looking as beautiful as always.

His favorite part is how he can always admire those curves.

#sam winchester x plus size reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural x plus size reader #sam winchester x chubby reader #x plus sizer reader #plus size reader #chubby reader #x chubby reader #supernatural x chubby reader #sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #sam x plus size reader #sam x chubby reader #x reader

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adorehs · 4 years

Text

undercover

Hello! Welcome to a very chaotic story.. I really cannot accurately describe all that happens. Heavy influences from Quantico which I have been watching and the American Assassin series which I have began reading.

For @majorharry‘s #majorharry20k with the following prompts: “Should–should we kiss?” (6) and “You’re making this so much harder than it has to be.” (30)

Summary: FBI!Harry and Y/N work together to solve a crime and romance ensues. Enemies to lovers if you squint. (6k words)

Warnings: violence, smut (unprotected), mentions of death, use of alcohol, there is a lot happening

The gun felt cool against your skin which juxtaposed your body which was coated in a light layer of sweat. You were hyper aware of its presence under your dress, along with the wig on your head and the colored contacts you wore, making you feel entirely uncomfortable for the simple assignment you were given.

You sat in the backseat of a government SUV, eyeing the dashboard monitor at the front of the car. It’s view showed multiple angles of the casino you and your partner Harry were headed to. You watched as various members were let in under what seemed to be a heavily guarded building.

You glanced to your right to see Harry reading over his new persona, mouthing certain phrases to himself as he folded the alias card into a black handkerchief, tucking it into his suit pocket.

The two of you and your analyst Mitch were briefed on the mission a few hours earlier. There was a man and a woman, siblings, who were believed to have bombed a casino in London earlier that week. Now, you and a team were set to find and detain both siblings, along with disarming the bomb before it is too late.

“Bellagio’s guest list for nights like this is pretty exclusive but they recently had some people added so we should be able to get by just fine but play off me if need be,” Harry spoke with a gruff voice, adjusting his collar to ensure his communication device was hidden properly.

You defensively shifted towards Harry, “I know my alias,” you stopped to wrap your radio harness tighter around the wire of your bra to hide it’s bulk, adjusting the receiver in your ear you continued, “I was supposed to use it last mission but I didn’t need to.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, “Okay, no need to get defensive.”

You look at him one last time before eyeing the camera footage at the font of the car again. You see a skip in the footage and scoot forward in your chair, “How do you rewind this?”

Mitch meets your eyes in the rear view mirror, “You have to call back to the cyber ops, we can’t do it from here.”

You nod, testing to see if your comm was working before asking the same question, prompting the security team on your case to rewind the footage. “There!” you point out, asking them to go back and pause it again, “There’s a cut,” you decide after seeing a frame by frame replay.

“No camera has him after that. It can’t be a blind spot, he just disappeared,” Harry agrees.

“Someone was probably waiting in a blind spot to take him,” Mitch informs, “They're five to ten feet, there is enough room.”

Having the camera back in current time, you watch as a cab pulls through one screen and stops before it reaches the next camera's sight, “So do you think that's them? Picking up whoever that was?” you ask, looking at Harry.

He sighs heavily, “Probably,” he hesitated. He didn’t want to have to follow the cab, “We can call someone to trace the cab though, right? So we still make sure shits good at the casino,” he replied.

Mitch slows to a stop as he approaches a stop sign, “Ask them to get their license number from another camera and find out who drives that cab,” he suggests, “Then whoever follows them can see what's going on.”

You nod, relaying the information to the analyst team assisting you all on the case. Your eyes follow the monitor as you watch the cab leave the building with an excessive roar of their engine. A crinkle forms between your eyebrows, “Why was that so loud? Wouldn’t that draw more attention to themselves?”

Harry sucked his teeth as he racked his brain for a logical answer, “It would,” he agreed, “Maybe it’s to derive our attention.”

You shrug lightly, “That could be it. We definitely need to get more people out here just in case, though,” you agree.

“It could go both ways,” Mitch reminds you, “They could be a step ahead, knowing how we think, and really be escaping and we would be too naive to realize.”

“This is so confusing,” you whine, “Why can’t they just pull a stunt we already know.”

Harry’s lips tug upward into a smirk, “We don’t have to know what they’re planning, we just need enough people to be ready no matter what,” he reminds you.

You open your mouth to reply but a noise in your earpiece stops you. “They’re headed south on Las Vegas Freeway,” someone comments, “Be ready to follow through once they stop.”

You and Harry approach Bellagio, arms linked. It wasn’t the original plan, but Mitch said it would be easier to go in together rather than to be seen leaving the same car fifteen minutes apart in a crowded area.

You both approach the bouncer, Harry giving the buff man his alias, “Oliver Irvine,” he speaks casually. The bouncer's gaze moves to you with an unimpressed gaze, “Maggie Greene, but also my plus one,” Harry speaks again. The man glances at the door and back at you with a grunt. You sigh softly, leaning closer to Harry while also shrugging your arm up to make your breasts look more pronounced, “We know the Russell’s,” you mention the siblings. You watch in amusement as his eyes widen slightly, panic visible on his face.

The bouncer’s face scrunches up in confusion, “We’re visiting from London,” Harry helps him remember your names.

He clears his throat, “Of course, I remember them mentioning Irvine now,” he nods at Harry. You bite your lip softly in attempts to keep yourself from laughing, “Head in,” he sidesteps and you wink at him whispering a soft thank you, making him smile slightly like a schoolboy.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and you let go of Harry’s arm. You make a beeline for the bar and immediately ask for a pale ale. The bartender eyes you up and down before returning slightly after with your beer. You thank him softly and look around the club, sucking your teeth with distaste at the bitter substance. You hate beer but you need to encompass Maggie Greene and Maggie likes beer.

You spot a man looking at you and you smile at him, giving him permission to come up to you. He approaches you with a smirk, “Hey, I’m Rob.”

You twist the hair from your wig around your finger carefully and you lean forward giving him a face full of cleavage, “Nice to meet you Rob, I’m Maggie.”

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, his eyes refusing to meet yours.

You look down at your full beer and lift it slightly so he sees before laughing at him, “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait.”

He laughed back and with a stutter replies, “Yeah, I figured,” he paused. Looking at your eyes, you silently hope he can’t tell they’re not your natural color because of the dim lit building. “Sorry, I just don’t know how I haven’t seen you here before, I come here every few nights,” he explains.

You perk up at that, he probably knows someone, you think to yourself. “No, I’m new, I came with my boyfriend.”

He nods with his head down and a chuckle, clearly disappointed, “And who’s that?”

“Oliver,” you say simply, pointing at Harry who is talking to a guy towards the back of the crowd, “How come you’re here so often,” you counter.

“The owner is a friend of a friend,” he smiles, lifting his hand to meet yours. He takes the drink out of your hand and sets it down on the bar before speaking, “They’re coming later today, maybe I’ll introduce you.”

“Oh cool!” you feign enthusiasm. You're beginning to regret speaking to him. The more you talk, the faster he seems to go. “Who are they? Oliver was telling me about some of the regulars he met last time,” you trail off in hopes of getting something.

“My friend? Her name’s Jazzy. Jazzy Russells,” he tells you, “Heard of ‘er?”

You shake your head lightly trying to suppress a smile, “No, but I’d love to meet her,” you send him a lipstick sweet smile. You pick up your beer with a slight tilt towards your body spilling it along the hem of your dress “I’m sorry,” you gasp, “I need to freshen up. Would you mind holding my drink?” you ask with no intent of drinking anymore.

He smiles at you and nods, allowing you to rush to find a secluded area. You find a nook next to the bathroom where an occasional straggler looks near. You put your phone up to your ear so it looks more natural and press the button on your comm to speak directly to your team.

“A found a guy who said he’s meeting Jazmyn later today,” you speak in a hushed voice, “Said he’d introduce me,” you tell them.

“Great,” you hear on the other end, “Can you get Styles in with you?” they ask.

“Probably, yeah.”

“Okay. Styles meet Y/L/N and devise a plan,” they conclude.

You nod slightly in confirmation, texting Harry to meet you near the women's room.

When he arrives in a haste, he has a light lipstick stain on the apple of his cheek and smells strongly of a woman’s perfume- his own scent masked heavily. “Jesus, Harry, did ya smother her?” you ask, licking your thumb and attempting to smudge the lipstick off before deciding it’s no use. You sigh, “Go wipe it off in the bathroom, you look ridiculous.”

His face scrunches up in disgust, “Why’d ya do that?” he asks, using his handkerchief to wife off the lipstick and your spit, making sure to keep his alias card hidden.

“Because I told that creep I was talking to that you were my boyfriend so he wouldn’t try anything,” you whisper harshly as you see a woman approaching the bathroom.

His lips upturned forming a smirk, “I knew you liked me.”

“I don’t like you, you just need an in,” you remind him. “Seems like I’m the only one doing any work of value,” you complain, “By the way, that perfume? Doesn’t suit you.”

Harry groaned, “I ran into a drunk girl on my way here, she threw herself on me and kissed my cheek to get some guy away from her,” he explains.

You shake your head with a bitter laugh, “Whatever. Just know, you’re making this so much harder than it has to be.”

Harry looks at you intensely before breaking out into a grin, “Awww, Y/N, no need to get jealous. I promise I won't let anyone kiss me tonight if that’s what you want,” he teases.

You look at him unimpressed, “No, I don’t care what you do, just don’t blow our cover. What are we going to say when I show up with you to meet Jazmyn and you smell like another woman but I claim you’re my boyfriend?”

“Relax, I’m a professional,” Harry shrugs, leaning against the wall next to him.

You scoff, “Doesn’t seem like it,” you mumble.

Harry rolls his eyes in response, fed up with you, “What’s the plan?” he asks.

“So I was thinking,” you pause when you hear Harry grumble an oh great, “I was thinking when we meet Jazmyn we get her a bit drunk,” you shrug. You knew she wouldn’t just reveal anything to you. Especially sober. You meet his eyes, “Then you take her up to her room to take a nap or something? Or back to wherever she says she’s staying,” you shrug, “And from there you take her wherever you can that’s alone and you interrogate her.”

Harry nods, “Okay and Justin? He’s gonna be out all night we can’t just get one of them.”

“Well, if he does end up coming I’ll just flirt or something and get him alone. If he doesn’t, you have to get Jazmyn to tell you where he is or whatever.”

He hums, “Okay so when Jazmyn comes, we have to get her drunk then I take her back? That's it? That simple?” Harry was skeptical. He had done enough work in this field to know that simple plans are never executed to perfection.

“That simple.”

Getting Jazmyn drunk was proven harder than you both thought. First, you asked if you could buy her a drink since she just arrived but she insisted she plays better when sober. Then, Harry tried to hand her a drink while she was approaching a game of craps but she knocked it out of his hand onto some random man’s suit who was none the pleased. He sighed an insincere apology to the man as you suppressed a laugh. Harry then immediately found you to keep from drawing attention to himself.

Safe to say the plan was not going well.

On top of that, Oliver, the man you had met earlier, would not leave you alone and insisted on buying you drinks. You took them carefully and set them on a random surface when he looked away, but the inconvenience it gave you was not taken lightly.

You both were on the edge of giving up when Mitch told you through your earpiece that they had gotten Justin, Jazmyn’s brother, and he wasn’t talking. He kept saying his sister has it under control.

Harry looked at you briefly before walking off to find Jazmyn in a rush. He found her playing the same game of craps he left her at and she had just finished betting a push on her opponent when Harry whisked her away.

“Hey,” he breathed on her, voice steady.

“Hi,” she giggled back. Harry smiled, maybe he was getting somewhere with this. He watches as her opponent rolls a perfect twelve and she cheers quietly at her neutral state. “Think I’ve gained four hundred,” she speaks quietly.

Harry raises his eyebrows, “Impressive.”

“I make good bets,” she shrugs with a smile. Her hand finds his, intertwining them together, and Harry watches as her face falls. “Where’s your girlfriend?” Jazymn asks.

Harry smiles fondly and points to the bar, “She’s getting me a drink, ya want one?”

She huffs out a breath in frustration, “Sure,” making Harry smile.

You approach not a minute later with an old fashioned in hand and Harry transfers it to Jazmyn’s. She smiles at you and asks how your night has been.

You glance at Harry and back at Jazmyn, “It’s been pretty good, love getting tipsy,” you shrug. You lean into her, “I always find someone when I get him drunk,” you whisper with a wink.

Jazmyn’s eyes widened slightly, “And today?”

“Workin’ on it,” you shrug, “Why?”

She looks at you and sighs in frustration, “No particular reason.”

You smile to yourself. She’s interested in one of you, you just have to figure out who. “So, Jazzy, are you in a relationship?” you ask her a bit louder then intended.

She shakes her head sadly, “No, haven’t liked someone in a while.”

You purse your lips and nod slightly, “Well I’m sure we can find you someone here, come on!” you enthuse, “There are hundreds here.”

She shakes her head, “I’ve had my eye on someone since they’ve walked in,” she starts, “But it turns out they have a boyfriend,” she looks you in the eye.

You mask your surprise with a soft smile, “I’m sure they wouldn’t mind- they don’t have to tell anyone,” you whisper.

Harry looks your way with a nod. His face is hardened and his jaw is clenched. He looks upset but you couldn’t put your finger on what. “I’m gonna go get a drink,” Harry paused, gesturing to the drink he sacrificed for Jazmyn. You nod in response, watching him walk off.

“They really don’t have to tell anyone?” Jazmyn asks once Harry is out of earshot.

You watch her carefully. For a moment you forget she’s a wanted criminal- a ruthless murderer. In a vulnerable moment, you almost forget that you are supposed to be trapping her.

“Maggie?” she asks. You look at her confused for a moment before remembering where you are and what you are doing.

“Don’t have to tell anyone,” you confirm with a sweet smile.

She smiles back, showing all her teeth. “When shall we go?” she asks.

“A bit forward are we?” you ask, taking the drink out of her hand and taking a long sip, keeping your eyes locked with hers. She shifts, slightly uncomfortable, as you hand the drink back and slightly push the glass up to her lips for her to follow your lead and take a sip as well. “Don’t wanna get to know me? Buy me a drink?” you continue your teasing.

She looks you up and down, “I know everything I need to know about you.”

You raise your eyebrows, slightly unimpressed but wholly not surprised, “Is that so?”

“You like hard liquor, you hate your boyfriend but he gives good dick, your game of preference is poker but you’re bad at bluffing,” Jazmyn trails off, her finger playfully tapping on her chin, “Oh, and you’re hot. I know what I need to know, now let's go?”

You chuckle at her eagerness, “Not all right but I’ll give you props. Not bad.” You begin looking around for Harry, who you find looking at you with an emotionless expression from across the room. “I’ll go get my room key and we can head up,” you wink.

You meet Harry’s gaze and keep it as you make your way across the casino to meet him. “I got her,” you tell him, “I need a key card.”

He nods and scrambles to find one he was given during the briefing, “Third floor, good job agent Y/L/N.”

You fake a gasp as you grab onto the card, “That’s a new one… a compliment?”

“I won’t say it again,” Harry shrugs, watching as you turn on your comm.

“I got her to go back with me. We’re meeting in the hotel room. What now?” you speak to your team.

“Y/L/N, bring her up to the room. We have it equipped with just about everything you’d need. Interrogate her if you can. If she won’t break just detain her and bring her back to us. Styles, you go follow in after ten minutes to help with whatever method is needed.”

You both murmur your agreements and Harry sees you off.

You meet Jazmyn back where you left her but this time she has two large men with her. You smile at both of them before leading the four of you to the elevator, “So you’re an important woman?” you ask.

“Very important. But don’t worry, they’re just here to keep me safe,” she replies, gesturing at the two men’s gun holsters.

You nod, selecting the third floor and waiting patiently as the elevator slowly moved up to the second and finally the third floor.

“Do they have to come in with us?” you ask innocently, hoping you don’t have to blow your cover so soon.

“Is that a deal breaker?” she asks sadly.

“Yeah.. not one for being watched,” you shiver in discomfort. She nods and tells them to wait outside your room and to not let anyone in. They nod obediently and you unlock the door, letting both you and Jazmyn into the large room.

She shuts the door quickly, nearly pouncing on you as you stand by the bed. Her lips meet yours briefly as you pull back in shock. “Would you like a drink?” you ask, turning around and heading towards the mini bar.

She sighs in frustration, “No, that’s okay. Just want you,” she pauses as she watches you bend down to get a drink.

You rise again, holding a bottle of wine. “You sure?” you confirm. She nods in reassurance and you shrug, “Okay, I’m gonna get a glass. Make yourself at home,” you gesture towards the bed.

You leave her and close the bathroom door. You hastily whisper that you are taking your comm off and to contact you through Harry and you detach the harness and tear off the earpiece. You return with a plastic cup, pouring red wine into the cup.

You take a sip, eyeing Jazmyn and you smile at her. You walk towards her slowly, watching as she straightens her posture at your presence. You smile at her intimidation and hold her chin with your forefinger and thumb. “What am I gonna do with you?” you tsk.

She smiles, “Kiss me.”

You set down your cup and lift her chin to meet your height. “No,” you whispered, “Let me please you.”

You were officially worried. It had only been about five minutes. Harry wouldn’t be here soon enough and you really didn’t want to have to do anything with Jazmyn.

“Okay,” she bit her lip, raising her dress without a second thought.

You hid your fear with a sultry smile- helping her lay down on the bed and kneeling down onto the floor. You began kissing up her legs, her hands reaching your wig. You pulled away abruptly in fear but it was too late. Your wig had come off.

“What the fuck?” Jazmyn asks softly. Her eyes widened as she realized what was happening. “Who are you?” she sneers.

You stand immediately but you’re stopped by Jazmyn grabbing at the necklace you wore around your neck. The braid your hair was put in falls onto your back and she yanks it with her other hand, making you groan.

You growl, launching yourself at Jazmyn. “You bitch!” you scream, unhooking the necklace and using the chain to wrap her arms into a makeshift hold as she thrashes in your hold. You use all the momentum you can gather by a simple step forward and thrust her onto the ground using all your body weight.

You step on her hand with a heel but she sweeps your other leg out from beneath you with a swift kick. You fall onto your back and she untangles herself from your necklace, throwing it to the ground as you instantaneously try to stand up before she can reach any weapon.

You reach under your dress and grab the gun you held under tight with your stockings and you quickly point the gun at her. “Don’t fucking move,” you sneer.

“Shoot me,” she replies with a matching tone.

You lower the gun to her leg and attempt to shoot- but nothing happens. The gun wasn’t loaded. Your eyes widen in disbelief and she lets out a deep chuckle and stands for herself. “Good one, Maggie,” she mocks.

You hear a thud from the door and both of you glance at where the noise derived from. “Harry,” you whisper and Jazmyn lets out a “Fuck.”

You sigh in relief as you see Harry’s large figure make its way through the door, assertively pointing the gun at Jazmyn’s leg just as you did before. She chuckles, “Bet it isn't loaded either.”

Harry smiles in response, “Yeah, I bet.” He shoots her. She falls immediately, surrendering to the ground with a tight grasp on her thigh, as Harry speaks into the comm, “Rowland, wipe the cameras and get up here.”

You walk slowly towards Jazmyn, kicking her in the chest with your arms crossed, watching her head hit the carpet of the hotel room.

“What took you so long?” you asked Harry as you turned slowly, making sure to keep your heel on Jazmyn’s chest.

“Had to take out the guards,” he pants lightly, recovering from an adrenaline rush, “Why?”

“Took your sweet ass time, huh?” you ask, watching him roll his eyes.

“Don’t get pissy with me- you didn’t even go through with the mission. She almost got you and you had a gun,” Harry accesses.

“My gun wasn’t loaded!” you yell out of frustration, releasing the cylinder and removing the magazine. “No cartilage,” you show him.

“How the fuck did you not think to check if the gun was loaded?” he asks, his voice raising.

“Why would I check? When have you ever picked up an unloaded gun?” you defend yourself, your voice raising to match his volume.

“I check every time regardless!”

“I was never given a reason to!”

“You should know to! Come on! You were trained for months on this shit at the same academy I was!” Harry yells, “Do better, it’s your fucking job to work a gun.”

Your eyes meet his, “Don’t tell me to fucking do better,” you beg.

Just as Harry was about to reply, the door opens again, this time revealing Mitch. “You guys good in here?” He asks, immediately heading over to you and leaning down to tie Jazmyn’s hands together.

You remove your foot from Jazmyn’s chest and kick her onto her stomach making her groan in pain, “Fine,” you reply shortly.

“We’ll be down there later,” Harry nods as Mitch hoists Jazmyn up, leaning her body weight onto his. Her head falls down, chin hitting her chest at the lack of blood and energy in her body.

“I’m leaving now to get her back,” he gestures towards Jazmyn with his head, “I’ll send a car, though,” he speaks over his shoulder as he walks out of the room.

You sigh in relief of Jazmyn finally being off your hands. You walk over to the bed to sit down when something catches your eye. The necklace. You kneel down to take a hold of it, dragging it towards you on the ground, watching as the necklace falls into two separate chains.

“Fuck,” you gasp, “She fucking broke it.”

Harry's eyes widened, “So what, she broke your necklace. Big deal, you can get another one,” he shrugs dismissively.

You shake your head no, looking for the two rings you keep on the now broken chain. “No, fuck I need that,” you cry out.

Harry looks at you before asking again, “What's the big deal?”

Your eyes water slightly as you look at him, “They’re my ex-husbands.”

Harry sighs heavily and lets out a quiet, “Fuck, sorry.”

“Fuck’s right,” you chuckle, eyes closing in a prayer as you spot the rings that had fallen beneath the bed. You reach under the bed, retrieving the two rings, placing both onto your hand- yours on your ring finger and your ex-husband- Ryan’s- on your thumb.

“Why’d you keep the rings?” He finally asks.

You shrug, admiring the gems on the rings. You had just recently cleaned them in hopes of preserving their life, as they tend to get dirty and battered sitting on your neck during long missions. “He died on the field,” you swallowed harshly. You had been forced to talk about this multiple times with a psychologist during your preliminary training but it didn’t prove any easier as time went on. “Keep ‘em for luck. He’s the reason I got into this.”

He nods, “That’s nice.”

You let out a sigh and look at him, “Yeah, sometimes. Other times I wish I could forget.”

He watches you carefully as you stand up and retrieve your hardly touched wine from earlier. You drink what was left in your glass with a single gulp. “How can I help you forget,” Harry speaks after a long pause.

You look at him and with a longing glance you tell him, “The alcohol helps.”

“How can I help?” he asks again.

“You don’t need to help. You’ve done enough.”

“I think I could help if you’d let me,” he persists.

“And if I don't let you?” you ask, confused. Every assignment you had with Harry he had been nothing but cold. He spoke when spoken to. He paid no mind to you except when it came time to critique your performance. You didn’t understand why he was beginning to care now, when you already had a foundation of hatred thick on the surface.

“I’ll find a way myself,” he shrugs.

“I’d like to see you try,” you scoff. You had no reason to believe he had spent every mission analyzing you- how you reacted, how you spoke, how you moved. The way you went about your work was inspected to the motive and you had no idea.

Harry watched as you turned once more to the minibar, looking for a stronger alcohol. The mission was over and you were officially off the clock. You felt no guilt or shame and there was nobody in your ear telling you otherwise.

He watched as you turned with a mini bottle of crown royal and a can of sprite. “Come on now,” he said, approaching you with his arm out. “Hand over the bottle. No need to drink that much tonight,” he tells.

You defensively shift so your body is shielding the bottles, “Let me do what I want, I’m not working anymore” you argue, “What does it matter to you anyway, you hate me,” you mumble under your breath.

Harry sighs, “I don’t hate you.”

You look him in the eye before concluding he’s telling the truth. Slowly, you set the drinks down onto the small table beside you, “I don’t believe you.”

“Why not? I think you’re pretty good,” he shrugs.

“Today is the first time you’ve ever said anything kind about my work in this field. Every other mission we’ve been on, you’ve told me where I could’ve been better,” you start, glaring at him with an accusatory expression. “Anyway, what gives you that right? You’ve only been here for six more months then me.”

“Because why be good when you could be great? I might have only been here for six more months then you but my position was higher six months ago then yours is now,” he reminds you. “I work smart. You work more. That’s not good in this field. You have to be quick on your feet.”

You scoff and turn around from him, “Okay so how does that prove you don’t hate me?”

“I want you to be the best. I think you could be.”

“So you’re a pretentious asshole because you think you can fix my performance? Cool.”

Harry lets out a sigh of frustration. You’re never going to understand how he cares for you and he knows that, yet he refuses to outright say it. “I never said that.”

“You implied it,” you argue back. He was getting on your nerves.

“I’ve also implied that,” Harry pauses to swallow the lump in his throat. He doesn’t think it’s appropriate to confess to this now, but as you said, you’re off the clock. “I’ve implied that I think you’re attractive. Why can’t you notice that?”

Your eyes widen in shock, “Stop playing with me. I know you haven’t implied that.”

“I have,” he nods, moving closer to where you are standing, “Like when I tell you I won’t let anyone kiss me but you? I mean it.”

You turn and look at him, “Should–should we kiss?”

“Yeah,” he whispers. Gently, unlike what you would assume, his hand finds your chin and tilts your head towards his before aligning your lips into unity. He shifts you with a grunt to a free wall and pushes you up against it with a thud. His tongue forces its way into your mouth and you let out an elicit moan at the new sensation.

Your hands found their way beneath his dress shirt and crawled at his happy trail. Harry steps back to discard the clothes on his torso and he watches as you drop the slim straps of your dress down your arms, unhooking your bra, allowing your breasts to fall free.

His mouth finds its way to your hardened nipple and he flicked one, then the other, between his teeth and eventually he moved his fingers to help the dress past your hips. You moan softly as his mouth works at a steady pace, making your nipples sensitive and erect in their own capacity.

His mouth left your breast, leaving sloppy kisses down your body. Your hands find their way to his hair as your head knocks back in pure ecstasy. You squirm at the feeling of his lips on your hips and feel his fingers claw at your panties.

“Oh god,” you moan aloud. He looks up, nodding at you in confirmation of what he is about to do. You hastily nodded back and watched as he rids your panties and holds your hand softly as you step out of the clothing that had accumulated at your feet.

He wrapped his arm around your waist as he sponged kisses back up to your mouth, biting gently on your bottom lip. Your hands find their way to Harry’s slacks, working quickly to unbutton and unzip them, pulling them down along with his briefs.

Finally, you take in the sight of the naked man in front of you. You involuntarily let out a gasp and Harry chuckles softly before he pressed his body close to yours again. His lips find yours and his erect cock presses into your stomach as your arms find their way into Harry’s hair.

You held him close to you, tugging him even closer when he tried to step away. That was all the invitation he needed to help hoist you up off the ground. Your legs legs around his waist and he keeps you steady with an arm under your ass, the other in your hair.

You kissed his shoulder repeatedly as he carried you onto the mattress, setting you down fully onto his lap. His hand left your hair to find his cock, pumping it a few times before lining up the tip with your wet entrance.

With short huffs of air out of swollen lips, you slowly lower yourself down onto his cock, allowing for a loud, erotic moan to leave his lips as your hips meet. He falls further back into the bed, stretches a leg out to prolong the feeling of warmth as you slowly start to move up and down on his shaft, releasing an immense amount of pleasure into both of your bodies.

He tugged your hair back, giving his access to your neck and jaw and he sucks harshly as you quicken your pace on his member, pressing down deliberately in an attempt to feel him everywhere.

Trying to keep your clit rubbing on his pelvis resulted in a series of hot and short breaths being released within the next few minutes. The pressure against his body was unbearable and you had never felt so full before in your life.

“I can’t,” you pant out, not slowing down your movements. You hadn’t felt this good in a long time so stopping seemed out of the question. You pushed deeper, pausing for a moment to catch your breath, before quickly moving against his shaft for the second time.

“Me neither,” he replies, just as dazed as you. He groans aloud as you squeeze against his cock, causing it to throb in preparation of its release. He tries to pull out but you push him down further into the mattress.

“I’m on the pill,” you barely get out before you come, shivering at the sensation. Harry followed shortly thereafter. He sighs in pleasure, helping you off his cock and into your lap before wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing you desperately.

You watch as he leans back, admiring your body. Your nipples were still erect from pleasure and your breathing was unsteady, short huffs attempting to bring you back to a normal state. There were accidental red marks adorning your neck and a hickey beginning to form on the underside of your chin, “Sorry,” he chuckled, swiping his thumb over the marks he left.

You laugh lightly, “It’s okay,” before rolling over onto your side. Harry stands up slowly, making his way to the bathroom, returning with a towel to help clean you up before he lays back down with you.

“So,” he starts, “We should talk about this…”

#majorharry20k #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles au

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quirklessidiot · 4 years

Text

Title: coward :: pretty girl Pairing: Y/N x Miya Atsumu Genre: angst, romance, and very slow burn [ex to lovers au] Warnings: Cursing, alchohol, mentions of unprotected sex, unplanned pregnancy, and mentions of abortion

Synopsis: : In which you finally meet the perfect girlfriend of Miya Atsumu and he starts to slowly accept the fact that whatever happened between you two is long gone (or is it?)

authors note:

here to give my thanks again, literally feels so surreal with how much love this story is getting despite the angst sjjsdjsjd i-

also ive released the prologue for my first ever smau! its a more lighthearted one compared to this one between sakusa and an older gn!reader, if you’re into that check it out here uwu

previous next masterlist

You’ve never actually seen Miya Atsumu and his girlfriend.

This was your first time today during Sugawara’s house party, Daiki had forced you to go and insisted that the three of them needed to have their manly bonding time (it actually only consisted of stuffing themselves with junk food and watching shounen animes), “...Also don’t you want to bond out with your ex-boyfriend that you chose over me? I’m hurt, I didn't know you like fake blonde volleyball players.” he fake-sniffled, in which you replied with an arched brow.

You didn’t know how he ended up knowing about Atsumu, you were expecting a talk from him but he simply shrugs it off and says, “No matter how much I tell you that you should tell him, you won’t listen. So I won’t bother wasting my breath, just know that you’re being selfish by denying these boys the right to have a father and you're denying that blonde shrimp to be a dad too.”

“Y/N-san, I’m surprised you came!” Sugawara grins.

“Daiki took charge of the kids.” You replied, fiddling with the keys in your hand.

“He looks very reliable.” the teacher exclaims, handing you a drink in which you completely deny because you weren’t very good with alcohol, “You guys would make a great couple!”

“Oh,” You voiced, you were very familiar with those words, many people had always thought you and Daiki would make a good pair. It was definitely a shock to many when they found out you were pregnant and that the basketball player was not the father despite being there most of the times, “I’ve never seen him that way.”

“He did mention that, he even openly confessed to Miya-san that he’s jealous of how he was your first boyfriend.”

You choked on your saliva, that fucking sly bastard-

“Anyways, make yourself comfortable! I have to go say hi to my old friends from college!” he exclaims, patting your shoulder. You immediately turn around to find Miya Atsumu cozying up with a beautiful girl in his arms.

Ah, that must’ve been the beautiful model with legs for days.

“You’re kind of staring.” comes a very familiar voice.

You want to roll your eyes but you decided against it, “I didn’t know you and Sugawara-san were close, Inunaki-san.” you greeted your annoying senior.

“Suga-san’s a friend to the whole team…” he grins, “Also, I’m just here to warn you that Osamu might be here later, he’s not as nice as Atsumu towards you.”

“You don’t have to remind me.”

“Come to think of it,” Shion Inunaki paused, tapping his chin in deep thought, “Atsumu still follows you around like a lost puppy. He’s been spending his off days with you instead of his girlfriend. I’m actually surprised he even brought her here today.”

“What are you implying?” You reply, feigning ignorance.

“Ah, L/N-san. I love how you still don’t care about my kohai’s feelings up till now.” He grinned, sarcasm oozing out of his sentence.

“Don’t be silly.” You glazed,“What feelings would there be but hatred?”

“It’s anything but that, L/N-san.” he turns to you, hand on his hip, “Even I don’t get why he’s so into you after all this time and the shit you put him through. He’s got someone better in front of him. Physical looks and emotionally speaking, Ri-chan’s a whole lot better than you… No offense…”

You knew he was rubbing salt to the injury but you couldn’t really bring yourself to argue with him, after all, he was right at the most part (you technically considered yourself as the big bad villainous ex in Atsumu’s life)

“You sound like those girls who used to threaten me back then when I was dating Miya-san.” You replied coolly, Inunaki even notices the amusement dripping in your tone, it's as if he hadn’t insulted you right at the face and called you a lesser being, “It’s almost pathetic.”

You ended up on the balcony right after, so much for trying to socialize, who were you kidding? It’s good you manage to escape the scene before Osamu could see you there, you couldn’t handle Inunaki and the grey-haired twin together. Thank god that Aran wasn’t around the area.

“Figured you’d be here.”

You turn to find the one and only source of all your problems these days, Miya Atsumu, you narrow your eyes in annoyance, “You should leave, people will get the wrong idea.” You simply replied, “I’m not in the mood to be in the middle of that.”

“I just came here because I wanted to apologize about that night with your brat.” the blonde casually leans against the doorway, “It was my fault for riling him up.”

“Yuuto has a temper, he’s more of his otosan than me.”

“What was he like?”

“Who?”

“The bastard that you miss, those brats father…”

You tilt your head and press your lips together, surprised by his choice of words, “Special.” you openly-confessed as you gaze at the very man in front of you. Oh, the irony of it all.

How you wish it was that easy to let go of all your fears and anxiety, if you had told him six years ago about your pregnancy, would your life probably be different? What if you told him now? How would he feel?

“He’s lucky,” he admits, gaze fixed on you, “I mean - other than the part that he died - he was a lucky guy, Y/N.”

It dawned upon you that moment that this had been the first conversation you had with your ex that held no hatred, malice, or anger. He seemed to be slowly accepting the fact that you wanted to do nothing with him. Like you, he had no choice but to move on.

“ ‘Tsumu! What the fuck you moping around alone for up there? You got a girlfriend here!” Osamu calls down from below. You both snap back to reality at his brother's voice, “Guess that’s my cue to leave, I’ll see you around, Y/N.” he uttered softly and as he turned away, you suddenly spoke out.

“I’m sorry.” He freezes in place, somehow this apology seemed different than the rest, “I know I’ve said that a lot these past few weeks and that night but I want you to know that every apology was genuine. I just, I’m not very-”

“I know.” He suddenly turns to you, the very familiar and warm grin that you're accustomed to decorates his features and you feel like its that night in fall and you're back in college again, “I guess I was so wrapped up in wanting to get an emotion out of you that I hadn’t realized, it’s not you if you did that. You always had trouble expressing yourself naturally to people after all.”

You feel your insides clamp and your lips tremble lightly, you feel the air turn heavy around you. How is that he was always the one pulling the strings and doing all the work between you two? How could he forgive you this easily?

“Don’t be silly.What feelings would there be but hatred?”

“It’s anything but that, L/N-san.”

“I’m proud that you’re trying hard for your kids though,” He chuckles, “Those brats are lucky they get to see all sides of you everyday.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight.” you muttered, watching his figure walk away and vanish in the dark, leaving you all alone in the night of spring.

“...I now pronounce you husband and wife…”

You stare at your father and his new wife looking at each other with complete love and adoration, something you never saw when you were growing up. It sickened you to the point that you turn slightly pale and feel the bile on your throat rise. You watch them exit the church as sakura petals fall, the idea of a picture perfect wedding and happily ever after like the fairytale books you used to scorn when you were a child.

You loathed it.

He even had the audacity to invite you and your mother. She ended up not going and was probably drowning herself in cheap saki at home.

You sat at the back during the reception, along with the people who were not exactly ‘close’ to the bride-groom. You feel like an utter fool, why were you even here? You should’ve gone home or attended that stupid party and get stupid drunk with people you barely knew like your mother.

Yeah, that’s right.

You’d rather be there than here.

“Ah,” you hear a glass clink, you saw one of your dad’s friends stand up, ready to make a speech, “First off, I’d like to congratulate my friend. Finally!” laughter resonates throughout the room but you don’t follow suit, instead, you hold onto the wine glass tightly as if you don’t like where this was going, “I know how unhappy you were back then but ever since you met Yui-chan, your life seemed to have become better. I could never be more proud!”

You could feel yourself getting sicker by the moment, especially after you heard the words you dreaded to hear the most, “Let’s not make anymore mistakes shall we?” he jokes.

All you could see was red right after, grabbing your clutch on the table as you made a haste exit. Was this the reason he invited you? To shove it on your face that you were a mistake made?

That you shouldn't have been born?

You ended up breaking a heel and tripping on your own feet soon after, shakily, you adjust your posture and sat at the concrete for a few moments, trying to gather yourself but desperately failing, "I didn't… I didn't ask to be born too, you know?" You murmured to yourself bitterly.

You let it all out, it shouldn't have hurt to be called a mistake. You were an adult already for crying out loud! Yet when they toss that word around like it was nothing especially at that wedding, you feel like you're eight years old again and you're hearing your own mother curse at you for being born into this world, the harsh words she said were as clear as the day, "if you probably hadn't been born, we would've been happier. We'd have better lives, Y/N. So don't go around and cry and think you got it bad, you hear me? Your sadness is nothing compared to ours. It's nothing, Y/N. So stop being ungrateful."

You ended up at the frat house that night, people would occasionally glance at your disheveled state but you just downed the alcohol, ignoring their stares as usual and when you get a text from your mother asking why you left the wedding so early in such a manner, you feel the pent-up emotions bubbling within you again.

Blocking her number and taking one last swig of the cheap vodka in your hands, you head up to one of the rooms upstairs. You hold it all in well, you don't want to showcase such things to strangers.You feel the alcohol and emotion about to hit you when you open a door that you thought would be your safe space for the next ten minutes but you're immediately greeted by two people on the bed, ready to hit it off and have a good time.

"O-Oh sorry… I-Wrong room...” you stammered, lips quivering and small tears escaping since you couldn't hold it in anymore.You immediately bolted out the door, So much for sobering up and crying by yourself for ten minutes, you might as well call Daiki, maybe he was available-

“Hey! Y/N!” a very familiar and a very unexpected voice calls out your name on the quiet street.

You hesitantly turn only to find your project partner and classmate standing there, a bit out of breath as if he had just squeezed through the very crowded party in a hurry, you're confused by his actions. You weren’t exactly close? What was he doing?

“Hey.” he softly says, taking out a handkerchief from his pocket to hand it to you. You hesitantly look at it and take it from his grasp as you try to get rid of the runny mascara. You're taken aback by his kind actions so far, although he had always been nice and tried to make conversations with you, you weren’t exactly very participative and it had always been one-sided on his part.

When he suddenly stopped talking to you recently, you didn’t bother to initiate anymore because you didn’t want to get more involved with people like him. It’s not like he was a bad person, per say, he just had such a loud presence that made everyone stop and stare. You weren’t exactly a big fan of those kinds of people (save for daiki since you grew up with him)

“Come on, Y/N.” the blonde sighs, taking off his jacket to place it on you, “Let's take you home.”

"You don't have to."

"You look like shit, Y/N. I’m not takin' no for an answer" Atsumu points out forwardly, "Actually, before we head home lets disinfect that wound, yeah?"

"Miya-san, I-" you tried to tell him you were fine but he didn’t seem to be having it.

"Atsumu." He corrects, despite his forwardness and brash attitude, you know he means well, "You let me call you by your first name so please don't call me Miya-san, sounds fuckin weird coming from ya."

You're thankful that he doesn't pry or ask questions about why you looked like this. He just mumbles throughout your whole journey that you shouldn't wear heels when you can't even walk on them.You also start to notice the slight accent from his tone when he got annoyed by your insistence that you were alright, you had always thought that he was a city boy with the way he carried himself.

When you arrive at the drugstore, he pays for the necessities himself despite you protesting again and even buys you a sugar-free treat on top of that, "You said you were diabetic one time." He shrugs off as he lets you sit on the concrete steps.

“Oh,” You faltered, “You remembered.”

“It’s one of the few things you said. You don’t talk to me that much so it's not hard to remember the things you say.”

“Sorry.” You tried to apologize, brows furrowed in deep thought and the only reply you got was a gleeful laughter from the blonde setter.

“You don’t really mean that do you?” he observed but he didn't look insulted by it at all, instead he seemed amused by it, “Don’t sweat it, Y/N. My twin told me I could be an annoying shit at times.”

“No,” you mused, “Not at all, you’re not annoying.”

Atsumu stares at you right in the eye, his corners crinkling just a bit as the amused smile never leaves his features, you’re starting to like it when you see him smile that way, it reminded you a lot of the youth you craved for, the problematic-free youth that you wanted and wished, “Is it safe to say that you don’t mind my company?” he guessed.

“Well, you’re here now and I haven’t left you.”

He doesn’t reply, instead he bends down to your level and takes the antiseptic and band-aids from your hands. Before you could object, the setter dabs it on your wound and as you seethe quietly in pain, he blows on it. You’re getting more and more perplexed by his actions tonight especially with the words he says next, “I may not be close with you to know what happened tonight but I hope I made you feel a little bit better, Y/N.”

The next time you see the professional volleyball player is at work,You’re tasked to send out some documents to your boss again and it just so happens they’re wrapping up the shoot for the advertisement at the studio.

Something’s different now.

After your little talk with him at the terrace, the air around you doesn’t feel tight, your anxiety around him seems to decrease, and your feet doesn’t get cold anymore. Of course, Inunaki would throw in a jab or insult but you took it like a good sport and didn’t bother with him.

“Ah, L/N-san! How are the boys?” Hinata jumps up and down excitedly as he sees you enter the studio, you still couldn’t get used to this big (small) bundle of energy.

“They’re doing fine, Hinata-san.”

“Oho, L/N-san, you’re looking better these days.” Inunaki teased, you gave him a brief nod and just ignored the jab, Atsumu slaps his seniors back in retaliation, “You’re not the one she broke up with Inu-san.” he joked, “Hey L/N-san.”

“Miya-san.” You greeted.

“Does Yuuto still want to skewer me like a kebab?”

“He feels sad that he wasn’t able to say sorry to you before you left.” You replied, a hint of amusement laced on your tone as you recalled Yuuto frowning on the dinner table the night before because Sugawara had informed the club members that Hinata and Atsumu wouldn’t be visiting as much because training was about to start.

“Shame, wanted to see that brat say sorry too.” He let out a grin, your conversation is cut short though when a new presence joins the room.

“Oh, Riku-chan!” Inunaki calls out.

You lick your dry lips as you see the very beautiful and tall raven-haired woman approach you, wow, Miya Atsumu outdid himself with this one. You recalled her being on Vogue magazine once and on tv a few times as a fashion model of an underwear brand.

“Oh, hey babe.” Atsumu greets, you note how stiff he became. He probably thought this would be an uncomfortable situation. The woman, unlike you, was very open with her affection. She gave him a brief kiss on his jaw.

Hinata greets her and you’re left wondering if you should excuse yourself before you could make Atsumu more uncomfortable by your presence but Inunaki, being an asshole, decides to make the choice for you, “L/N-san, this is Miyazaki Riku! I’m sure you know her, she’s a supermodel!” he introduces you to her.

“Good day.” You greet the model.

She tilts her head slightly, “Have we met before? You look very familiar.”

“She was my kohai back in Uni and Atsumu’s classmate!” Inunaki grins, patting your back, you hold back a glare since you didn’t want to make it more awkward than it was.

“Oh?” she chirped, immediately letting go of Atsumu’s hand, she grabbed onto yours, “What was he like? I bet he was so cool and chic back then too!”

Chic and Cool?

Memories of a rather clumsy and corny Miya Atsumu in college slowly wormed its way to your head and out of nowhere, you burst into a low chuckle. Inunaki was startled by the sudden reaction and Atsumu feels his insides mush up when he hears that very rare sound, “Yeah,” you croaked, shortly after recovering from your small laugh, “Definitely chic and cool.”

“That’s so cool! I definitely want to hear stories about you back in college, baby!”

“Maybe some other time,” you voice is back to its smooth and cool tone, realizing that you needed to leave from this uncomfortable conversation and start your job, “I have to finish up my work here and get home early.”

“That’s a shame, I could definitely tell you guys were close.” a frown tugs her lips as she notices how quick you were to say goodbye to her, “Bye, L/N-san!”

After that rather dry and one-sided enthusiastic conversation, you finish your work quickly and Daiki messages you just in time that he and the boys would pick you up, you say your goodbyes to your director, the staff, and the volleyball team. You don’t notice the lingering gaze of Atsumu as you left nor do you notice Inunaki telling him that he’s got his girlfriend right in front of him and he shouldn’t look your way.

They shortly wrap up right after and they’re ready to go home. After deciding that they’d all grab a good meal together (much to sakusa’s dismay), Atsumu feels his mood lighten up as they exit the studio to see you standing there along with Yuuto, unwrapping his onigiri. As he’s about to call the brat to talk to him and even drop in to say hi to you, he sees a familiar tall figure emerge from the convenience store with Youta in his arms.

The blonde decides against it.

“...You always had trouble expressing yourself naturally to people after all.”

He watches the interaction from afar and notes how easy it was for the man to interact with you, he even catches on an amused smirk from you as the man tries to tell you a joke, “Is that L/N-san?” he hears Riku ask, “I didn’t know she had a family, that’s so cute!”

Atsumu doesn’t really know what to say as he watches the domestic scene unfold in front of him, he was trying to move on, wasn’t he? Yet why can’t he look away?

“Baby? You alright there? You’ve been staring at the empty space for a while.” Riku calls out, sounding a bit worried as she snaps him out of his daze. You were already gone, probably far off with that scrub and the brats.

“I’m good.” he tried to affirm himself, wishing it was true, “I’m good.”

taglist [closed]

@fortheloveofiwaizumi ; @svtbitch ; @kiyoomile ; @lovedanii ; @juno-multifandom ; @gyubit17 ; @saeranoppa ; @nixxona ; @kyomihann @shorttstackk ; @intoomuchfandoms ; @yammmers ; @mx-minxx @itsmattsunshinehere ; @missingmystogan ; @volleybloop ; @imcravingyou ; @yams-wants-that-booty ; @liathachcapricious ; @pinknugget @seikamuzu ; @marigoldthoughts ; @sillykittt ; @baejinoffcl ; @alluring-akaashi ; @bnhasstuff ; @jungshookmeup ; @intheawks ; @bokuakadaily ; @agaassi ; @yams046 ; @dope-squish ; @chrisrue15 ; @vermillionwaves ;

@misosamu @Etherynaw @ryaaaax @differentballooncollection @keniloveshaikyuu @allysasteaparty [hi, i can’t seem to tag u guys, i think you need to open your tags uwu]

#haikyuu imagines #haikyu!! fanfics #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu angst #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu imagine #miya atsumu scenarios #miya atsumu fanfiction #atsumu x reader #atsumu imagines #miya atsumu

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kaialone · 3 years

Text

Kirby Planet Robobot Translation Comparison: Meeting Susie

This will be a comparison of the original Japanese version and the US English localized version.

Specifically, this will cover the cutscene where Kirby first encounters Susie.

You can also watch this cutscene for yourself in English and Japanese.

For the comparison, the usual points apply:

Bolded is the original Japanese text, for the reference.

Bolded and italicized is my translation.

Italicized is the official NOA translation.

A (number) indicates that I have a specific comment to make on that part in the translation notes.

As you read this, please keep in mind that with translations like these, it’s important not to focus on the exact literal wordings, since there is no single “correct answer” when it comes to translations.

Rather than that, consider the actual information that is being conveyed, in which way, and why.

Meeting Susie:

????:

ウフフ…

Uhuhu...

Heehee...

????:

こんな所にまで、ゲンジュウ民が来るなんて…

I am surprised to see that a native has made it this far...

I didn't expect to see a native inhabitant all the way out here.

????:

あぁ、もうしおくれました。ワタクシ「ハルトマンワークスカンパニー」の、

Oh, please excuse my late introduction. I am working for the "Haltmann Works Company",

Excuse my manners. Let me introduce myself.

????:

社長秘書をつとめております、「スージー」ともうします。

as the secretary of its president. I am called "Susie".

My name is Susie, executive assistant of the Haltmann Works Company.

Secretary Susie:

いごおみしりおきを。

Pleased to make your acquaintance.

Secretary Susie:

……ごらんくださいませ。

...Please take a look around.

Just look at this planet.

Secretary Susie:

このほうふな水にきれいな空気を…

An abundance of water, and a clean atmosphere...

Clean air, fresh water...

Secretary Susie:

この星には、ばく大なしげんがねむっているのです。

A wealth of resources rests upon this planet.

There is a wealth of natural resources to be found here.

Secretary Susie:

アナタ方ゲンジュウ民は、そのねうちさえわからずに…

And still, you natives remain ignorant of its value...

But all of you who live in this world take that wealth for granted.

Secretary Susie:

と、いうわけでして…

Regrettably, that is precisely why...

Regrettable, but at any rate...

Secretary Susie:

アナタ方は、われわれの「キカイ化しんりゃくプロジェクト」にとって、

In order to see our "Mechanization Invasion Project" through,

Our Mechanizing Occupation Project is now under way...

Secretary Susie:

ジャマな存在とはんだんされました。

it has been decided that you pose an obstacle.

and your people have unfortunately been identified as...obstacles.

Secretary Susie:

ここまでごそくろういただき、たいへんおそれ入りますが…

Since you have gone through the vast effort of coming here, I am truly sorry to say this, but...

Our most sincere condolences, and I'm sorry you had to come all this way...

Secretary Susie:

すみやかに…

Now I must...

but I'm afraid...

Secretary Susie:

くじょされてくださいませ！

Exterminate you on the spot, if I may!

you must be destroyed!

Comparisons & Thoughts:

Overall, the official English translation of this game does a great job at adapting the cutscenes, and this first one is a good example of that.

The text is very faithful to the original, with barely any notable differences, though there are still some points I want to go over.

Most importantly, this scene serves as our introduction to Susie, so a lot of this will be me talking about her.

So to start off, here are some general aspects regarding Susie.

A minor detail about her is that she is generally referred to by her full title “Secretary Susie” in the Japanese version of the franchise, including the dialogue boxes of this game.

In English, she is usually just referred to as “Susie”, more than likely because writing out her full title in English would often be too long for the dialogue boxes.

So this is an understandable change made out of necessity, but it does make her lose just a bit of the completely professional vibe she gives off in the original.

It also worked as a parallel to her employer, who is also usually only referred to by his full title.

Another detail is her manner of speaking.

In the Japanese version, Susie almost always speaks in a very polite and formal manner, matching her professionalism.

There’s also occasional moments of what I guess I would describe as “playful femininity” here and there, to an extent that doesn’t break the “professional secretary” character.

At the same time, she will often talk about awful things or flatter herself without dropping the formality, giving her dialogue a sort of backhanded vibe. What she says is technically constructed in a reserved and polite style, but is actually insulting or boastful on her part.

In my translation, one of the ways I tried to adapt her formal speaking style by having her use very few contractions, but that is just one way to do it.

For the most part, the English version retains that formal vibe of her pretty well, especially in this cutscene here.

But there are moments where the English version does play a bit more loose with her dialogue, making her sound more casual or openly insulting.

When these moments come up, I think they are there to make her sound more snappy, and possibly to better match the sort of “sleazy villainous salesperson” trope as it’s used in English media.

There’s also the fact that different levels of politeness are a bit harder to express with just written words in English compared to Japanese.

That being said, the differences in Susie’s vibe between versions are fairly subtle, and probably only something you’d notice when taking a very close look.

When there are any moments where the difference actually is strong enough to be notable, I will be pointing them out.

Moving on to the actual text of this cutscene, a subtle detail is that in Japanese, Susie introduces herself by saying “I am called Susie”.

This is a proper formal way to introduce oneself, but I can’t help but wonder if it’s also alluding to the fact that “Susie” is eventually revealed to not be her actual full name.

A small difference is that the English version uses “Mechanizing Occupation Project” rather than “Mechanization Invasion Project”, but it’s not a big deal.

Lastly, in the Japanese version Susie says that she must “exterminate” Kirby, while in English she says that he must be “destroyed”.

Normally this wouldn’t be worth bringing up, and “destroy” is a perfectly acceptable translation of the verb here.

But, the term used in Japanese here, くじょされて/kujosarete ends up being a bit of a catchphrase for Susie in future media, so from that perspective it’s neat to see its first appearance here.

And that’s all for this cutscene, really not a lot to say about this one, because it really is just that close to the original.

I also love most of their phrasings, it’s all very well-written.

The differences between the Japanese and English versions of this game’s text become more pronounced as the story goes along, so feel free to check out the next part!

| Start | Next Part >

#kirby #kirby of the stars #kirby planet robobot #planet robobot #my translations #kirby translations #planet robobot translation comparisons

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vanillann · 3 years

Text

the 1994 battle of the performers (luke patterson x f.reader)

word count: 2.0k

the 1994 battle of the performers masterlist

Chapter 3: The Cool Kids Table

“Look who it is!”

I jumped when I realized how close the voice was, looking over my shoulder at a smiling Alex and Luke. I tried to see if I saw Reggie or Bobby but Alex caught on to my weird glares.

“They had to stay after class a few extra minutes, got in trouble for distraction yesterday,” Alex shrugged, speaking as if it was a casual thing but really thinking about it, it was very possible.

“Oh?” I was still slightly confused why they were at my locker, we weren’t really friends I suppose. Just five teen’s who had dreams and were doing the other a favor.

“Oh? Where is your excitement?” Luke bounced on his heel, the wild smile never left his lips as he looked at me. I said nothing, reaching for the books in my locker for the next period.

“Who has excitement during school?”

“Who wouldn’t when it’s time for lunch,” I rolled my eyes with a smile sneaking its way on my lips at the excitement that followed the group.

They truly did try to make the best out of everything.

“Nothing ever happens at lunch,” I shut my locker, turning around and letting my backrest on the cool metal that sent a shiver through me.

“Cause you’re sitting at the wrong table,” Alex smiling was changeling Luke’s, which felt like a greater competition than the Battle of the Performers.

“I sit with some old dancers, they don’t talk much.”

The dancer team was nice enough to still speak to me after the spilt, but that didn’t make it easier to watch the people I considered my friends talk about the thing you loved most without you. It wasn’t going to get easier but I couldn’t let myself dig too deep in my own head.

“Not anymore,” Luke skipped backward, letting his back hit the handle of the cafeteria door and holding his hand out for Alex and me to follow me.

“Did they say something to you?”

Easy breathing, you didn’t do anything wrong. They kicked you off the team so you found otherways to dance with.

“No, we just thought you should sit with us,” Alex wrapped a light arm around my shoulder and guided me around the different table until we spotted the one in the very corner. It was one of the smaller tables within the room, definitely pushed to the corner on accident but nobody cared enough to move it.

“Sit with you?”

“Say it nicer why don’t you,” Alex glared at me, a hit of a joke behind his eyes as I looked between him and the table.

Milo’s and dinner was one thing, but this felt like a friendship level up. The school was a harsh place where you were grouped together with the people you hung out with, not that Sunset Curve was the worst people to be grouped with. It was just a lot, my last two years in this place I would be seen as one of them or seen as the girl who was kicked from the dance team than Sunset Curve because after this battle I would be a faint history to them.

“Are you sure?”

“Yep,” Luke popped the “p”, already sitting at the table with his leg bouncing from either nerves or excitement, the two things Luke Patterson ran off of.

I didn’t even get to place my books down before he was standing up and taking them from my hand, placing them out of reach on the bench with a little smirk.

“I need to start on the Economics homework,” I tried to reach over the table but his hand rested on the top of my books, pushing them farther from my grasp.

“Lunch isn’t for homework,” his smirk was almost enchanted to watch, but my homework under his rough finger was way more important at the moment.

“You aren’t going to get those books back, I would know,” Alex spoke up from behind me, leaving a seat beside him open for me with his feet swing back and front under the table. I said nothing, giving up and taking a seat, resting my chin in my palm while looking at both boys.

“Do you not bring food to lunch?” I reached into the tote bag on my shoulder, letting the cool bottle of water freeze my warm hands.

“We got through the line but Bobby would kill us if we went without him,” Luke watched me, waiting for me to say something interested as the other two members of the band were still not here.

“What?”

“You didn’t scream last night,” Luke spoke, his eyes glaring under the harsh light of the cafeteria as if he was out of an old movie.

“Cause I didn’t fall?”

He didn’t think I would actually fall, did he? I had been walking fine for a month or so now, it was the most active work like dancing and running that still gave me scares.

“(Y/N)’s sitting with us?”

I looked over my shoulder, both Reggie and Bobby stood behind me with smiles as they took their regular seats, or what I assumed, around the table. Once Reggie sat down, he held his hand out for a high five. I smiled and returned it, turning to Bobby when he sat beside me while clapping a hand on my shoulder.

“Yep, they dragged me here,” my chin pointed to Luke then Alex, earning a pout from Luke and Alex bumping his shoulder with my own.

“They aren’t house trained, sorry,” Bobby joked, earning a few stray napkins to be thrown at him from Luke.

“I am house trained, thank you very much,” he pronounced every word with sass, his pout still painted on his lips as he looked to Alex who was laughing at him.

“Let’s get in line,” Alex started to hand, pushing off the table and turning once he stood all the way. Everyone but Luke stood up, him holding his finger in the air while looking at the other members.

“I’ll sit with (Y/N) so people don’t think she’s lame with no friends,” I felt my jaw go slack, my hand feeling around for one of the napkins he had thrown at Bobby. Once I felt my finger brush one, I picked it up and threw it in his face, it going directly in his open mouth.

I covered my mouth, in shock at how perfectly it had made it in. Luke looked about as shocked as I felt, looking at me with wide eyes while removing the napkin from his mouth.

“You-” his smile was slowly forming as he held his finger out at me, pocking my hands that still covered my mouth.

“I didn’t mean to,” my words barely made it from his lips as I tried to hold my giggles back. I probably looked crazy to an outsider, watching him with a shocked smile and he scolded me.

“I thought we were friends,” he crossed his arms on the table, letting his chin rest on top of them as he looked up at through his eyelashes.

“I don’t remember signing a contract for that,” I tapped my chin, raising one eyebrow and I jokily thought over the process.

“My printer broke, I’ll get it to you next Monday.”

I rolled my eyes, resting my chin back in the palm of my hand as I watched him stare at me.

“Why did you invite me to sit here?”

I definitely was the best at ruining moments, I should do it as a career at this point.

“Cause?”

He shook his head as if the answer was obvious, but that was the exact problem. It was apparently noticeable to everyone but me where I stood with the group but myself. As far as I knew we would be friends until the competition and then I’d be back to the few girls at the lunch table and they wouldn’t have to worry about my knee anymore.

“Look at this piece of chicken,” Reggie’s voice tore me from my thought, looking up at the almost black chicken tender Reggie held in-between his finger with a broken frown.

“That has to be against guidelines,” I reached out, taking the tender to look at for myself.

“Don’t say that too loud, Bobby said something similar and was threatened with detention,” Alex spoke up from beside me. His chicken was definitely in better shape but still incredibly over-cooked. I simply took the chicken and wrapped it in one of the napkins from the little argument earlier.

Reggie held out his hand, taking the trash and reaching over to make it in the trash can. He made the shot, his hands above his head and he looked back to the table with a proud smile.

“He’d made up for hitting Henderson with a paper ball yesterday,” I smile, remembering the encounter from the last period of the day, the only period I shared with any of the members of Sunset Curve besides lunch and study hall with Alex and Bobby.

“You what?”

Alex dropped his fork back on his cheap plate, looking up at Reggie with a slacked jaw.

“I didn’t mean to!”

I laughed, leaning back on the bench slightly was I wasn’t sitting so proper, something I still didn’t use to. WIth dancer become a secondary part of my life I was losing the posture I once had, cause some small back pain but nothing serious.

“How do you even do that?” Luke reached over and took an apple slice off Bobby’s plate, that’s when I noticed each boy had each of the options for the school menu. The thought alone that they formed their own little sharing system was adorable to me, my eyes jumping to each plate.

“What one?”

I looked up, Alex holding up a grape in-between his finger as he watched Luke and Reggie’s conversation unfold. I said nothing, picking the grape from in-between his finger and popping it in the air, leaning my head back and catching it with my mouth.

“Whoa!”

Bobby hit my shoulder when he saw the trick, smiling as he pointed to me with a giant smile on his face.

“Wait I missed it,” Luke leaned on his arms again, watching me closely with his bright green eyes. I said nothing, asking Alex for another grape but he was already holding one out for me. I did the same trick, moving slightly into Bobby’s side as the grape moved but still caught it easily.

“Wait I wanna try,” both Reggie and Luke reached for the grape at the same thing, silently fighting over the fruit.

“This will keep you entertained,” Alex whispered in my ear, pointing his chin at the two and they disused who got the grape, Alex hiding the bag with the rest under the table with a little smirk. I reached over, taking one for myself and slipping it in my mouth without the two notices.

“Is it like this all the time?” I asked both Alex and Bobby, laughing when Luke said he should get it causes he’s the lead singer.

“You’ll see,” Bobby spoke, laughing when Reggie flicked Luke in the forehead and snatched the grape from his fingers. He didn’t waste time, trying to flick it but instead started to fall on the other side of the table. I stood up slightly, moving over Alex slightly with my mouth open, once I felt the fruit hit my tongue I showed the fruit in my mouth to the table.

“How did you do that?” Reggie and Luke both sat up straighter, waiting for me to explain the trick.

“A magician never shared his tricks,” I smirked, taking a bite of the grape with a smile.

“I thought you were a dancer, oh-” Reggie stopped halfway through, pointing at me with a little smile.

“You can’t be cooler than me sorry,” Luke tilted his head at me, us all standing up with her heard the school bell ring throughout the walls.

“But I am, sorry.”

the 1994 battle of the performers taglist

@gia-kerks @notwonder-woman @poisoned-girl @phantompogues @dovesgrangers

#luke julie and the phantoms #luke patterson x y/n #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson #jatp x reader #jatp netflix #sunset curve #julie and the phantoms x reader

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folkreid · 3 years

Text

begin again

TYPE: FLUFF

WORD COUNT: 1.06K

SONG: Begin Again- Taylor Swift

I took a deep breath in the mirror. I actually look good. I look down at my glittery heels. Should I change them? What if he doesn't like them. I mean I like them. My ex never did though. He always said I looked like a whore. You know what this isn't about him. Im finally moving on.

I walk out my door, getting out my key and locking it. I hop into my car connecting the aux to my phone. One of my favorite songs came on. It was called Love Story. Yes by Taylor Swift. He always said he hated this song. He said it was stupid and girly. But I love it.

I turn the corner to the chinese place I was meeting Spencer at. I was a little late. He'll probably be later than me so it's fine. I park and turn off my music. I step out of my car walking to the entrance. I look and see Spencer on the bench outside. He looks up at me his eyes filled with wonder and hope. "H-hi" he stutters. "H-hi" I smile. "I'm sorry i'm a little bit late it sounds stupid but I-I couldn't decide what shoes to wear. Also I kinda figured you'd be later than me" I say shyly looking down. I feel his eyes on me as he slightly giggles.

He's laughing? "It's fine Y/n I actually had some trouble picking out what tie I should wear. Also I love your shoes" I blushed at his comment. Hm. "Thank you. I like your tie" I slightly laugh pointing at the tie with small characters on them looking like little monsters. "T-thank you, it's one of my favorites... Um we should go in"

"Yeah" I follow after him.

He brings me to a table, he pulls my chair out and helps me in. He doesn't know how nice that is. I actually feel important. "So what are you going to get, get whatever you want i'm paying" he says handing me the menu. His eyes scan through the menu in about five seconds top. "I already know what I want" he tells you. "Already? Have you been here before" I laugh at how fast he decides. "No I haven't. I just read the menu"

"Well you read it very quickly" I joke looking up at him.

"Well I can read 20,000 words per minute" he says very casually. "What?!" I say in shock. "Yeah it's no big deal" he blushes at my expression and his lips slightly pucker. He bites his lip eager for my response. "No big deal?! That's a very big deal" I exclaim.

"Well it only fits in with the rest of me since I have an IQ of 187 and finished high school when I was twelve" he smiles. Wow. Who's kid is this. "Twelve? That's extremely young. And 187?! That's crazy. I've never met anyone as smart as you, or even close. Where I come from everyone is brain dead" he lets out a small laugh. "Yeah it was pretty hard in school though, I have many embarrassing stories"

"Oh my god! So do I! One time in fourth grade I had a crush on this boy. He told me after school that he liked me and he kissed me. So I thought as an 9 or 10 year old that if a boy kissed you, you would be pregnant. I went screaming and crying to my teacher that I was pregnant by him" I laugh from the stupid memory. I watch as Spencer throws his head laughing like a little kid. I think it's strange Spencer thinks i'm funny because he never did.

"That's hilarious" he laughs. "In my defense I was only in fourth grade I did not know how babies where made" I defend.

"I knew how" he laughed.

"Well i'm not a genius so" he giggled. He is so adorable. Wow.

The waitress brings us our food. We both grab chopsticks. I see him struggling to use them. Good. I don't know how to use them either.

The waiter passes by "Can I get a fork please" he asked. "Can you make that two, thank you" I smile.

"You don't know how to use them either?" he asked slightly relieved. "Nope, it's impossible"

"I know right!" he exclaims. Both of you laugh.

"I- I um I remember you talking about your book collection. I've never met anyone who reads as much as me"

I read. A lot.

"Well I do work at a library" I giggle.

He smiles. "What's your favorite book?" he asks. "Oh I love all books. If we are talking about adult books definitely War and Peace. If we are talking children's books I love Matilda. It's my guilty pleasure" I confess.

"Oh i've read Matilda. When I was like two" he brags. "I love War and Peace. I personally like the original Russian version"

"You know Russian?" wow another impressive thing about him. He nods. "Do you speak any other languages?" he asks. "Yeah I speak a bit of Spanish" I reply. My mother is Mexican but my father is white so.

"Oh really?" he says. I nod. "I know a tiny bit of Spanish" he exclaims. "Oh really?" I laugh. He nods "Por supuesto que puedo. Soy un genuino"

I laughed at his words. They were very white. He could hardly speak Spanish. "You're pronouncing all of those words. Its "Por supuesto que puedo. Soy un genuino" I say in my small accent that i've had since I was younger.

"That's what I said" he sipped his drink after saying that. "But I said it better"

"Yeah you definitely did" he giggled.

"I'll pay and we can head out?" he asks me picking up the check. "I can pay" I take it from him. He takes it from me "Well I asked you on the date so I pay"

"Fine. Can I repay you next weekend?" I shyly ask. I'm basically asking for a second date. What if he says no. Oh my.

"I would really like that" he smiled nodding. His smile showcased his cheekbones. Wow he is gorgeous.

"Okay great"

"Wanna head back to my place?" he asks. "Yeah. That would be fun"

We walk out of the restaurant hand in hand.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #reid x reader

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sevendeadlyvices · 3 years

Text

Poker Buddies AU: Max and Memories Notes

Something I compiled for @i-cant-thinkof-anything-new Poker Buddies AU they have going. Now I used the Poker Night wiki to get this and I thought this would be helpful for any Sam and Max or Poker Night at the Inventory Fans in general. That and I have my own Poker Night At The Inventory AU and headcannons that I need to work on too. The first information is generally Max’s poker strategy in Poker Night At The Inventory:

When it comes to reading the opponent's strategies, Max's will prove to be a big problem. Due to his lack of knowledge on the subject, his poker strategy seems non-existent. His choice of whether to call, raise, or fold tends to come out of nowhere. Sometimes, Max will or will not have a good hand, so he will be very hard to read. His strategies are completely random; he might bluff, be cautious, or be aggressive. Sometimes he will just keep on betting or keep on folding.

I would call Max an unpredictable poker player at times. There’s this tell he has that if his left hand quivers, he’s bluffing, but other than that, you’re on your own with him.

Next is his relationships with the characters of both Poker Nights:

Heavy: Max seems to have a good strong friendship with the Heavy, asking him about how his career is going and what kind of weapon he could recommend.

Strong Bad: Mostly casual, having the odd talk with Strong Bad when Max is compelled to tell some sort of story.

Tycho: His relationship with Tycho seems to be, again, a casual friendship. They share many of the same interests, although from time to time Max will be slightly put off by Tycho's odd behavior.

The Player: Max often thinks The Player plays too conservatively, especially when not calling a huge bet of Max's.

Sam: Max very much loves the big guy. Max is Sam's long-time partner, best friend, husband, and sidekick.

Brock Samson: Brock finds Max annoying like Claptrap, but also finds it much easier to ignore him, even when Max is physically attacking him. He also has some level of respect for the lagomorph for everything he and Sam overcame as members of the Freelance Police.

Claptrap: Much like Sam, Claptrap is a fan of Max for their games and comics. He seems closer to Max than Sam due to the fact that Max isn't as annoyed by him as Sam is. Max's love for violence makes the robot think he would fit in very well on Pandora. If Claptrap is knocked out before Sam, he will often sit next to Max for a while. Also, during a Showdown, Max will stand right next to Claptrap, wondering what the next card will be.

Ash Williams: Ash has considerable respect for Max and Sam's career and is otherwise "okay" with the lagomorph. However, Ash also displays a few moments of apprehension and even downright concern when Max' insanity acts up, usually in his theme eliminations.

GLaDOS: Max doesn't seem to mind the murderous AI as much as the other characters and occasionally joins in when she insults or annoys the other characters (primarily Sam).

This is from the wiki, so take this with a grain of salt.

And finally, with spoilers in the cut:

The Memories I would focus on for the Epic Texas Hold Em Matches! Note that it’s not all the conversations from both games, but here’s the ones I found so far that might be interesting to incorporate for the AU. I’ll bold the ones that would seem more angsty for the AU:

Max: I don't know a lot about card games, truth be told. But, I take it you're a little bit of a beginner, yes? Strong Bad: Are you talking to (pronounces it as moy) moi? Max: You betcha. You're as green as the bologna in Sam's mini-fridge. Strong Bad: (angrily) Shut up, Stitch. Max: (cheerily) It's OK. It just means you have to adopt a wanton strategy of wild deception. Strong Bad: Hmm... Not the woist idea I ever hoid. Max: (furrows brow) Get into their heads.

Max: You know what I love? Tycho: What's that? Max: Destroying wave after wave of the undead. Tycho: WORD UP! How do you roll? Max: With my trusty side arm of course. Tycho: I'm more of an auto-shotgun guy. Max: Oooh! Heavy: This is good weapon no? Max: Sam and I had to resign ourselves to pistols when our cleaning bill started going through the roof. Tycho: Yeah, its like ichor? Oxyclean ain't cuttin' it. Max: This pelt is dry clean only.

Tycho: Max, how'd you learn to play cards? Max: Funny you should ask! This one time, Sam and I were busting up a crime syndicate down in Atlantic City. A road job. Tycho: Indeed. Max: Yeah! So we're tailing this low level mafia bum for an hour and he pulls up outside a casino and before he can go in Sam says, "Well little buddy, we better nab this guy quicker than a Pittsburgh driver taking a left on a green in rush hour." I couldn't have agreed more. So I grab a tire iron out of the back seat, right, hop out of the Desoto, and pummel this guy like a piñata. Tycho: Yow! Max: Blindfold and all! Tycho: ...That doesn't really answer my question. Max: You asked me a question?

Tycho: Hey Max, how do you like being a freelance police officer? Max: It's the best. Tycho: I bet it is. Max: Oh, but that's not all I do. I'm also available for babysitting, bat mitzvahs and general shakedowns. You know anybody who needs work? Tycho: See, this why I think we get along. You're a Renaissance man. Max: You need anybody roughed up? Tycho: There's a bird at the pet store that's been giving me a little beak, yeah. Max: Oh ho, putting a wise acre in his place is my specialty!

Heavy: I will make hat from you, little bunny. Max: How 'bout I just sit on your head and shoot people? Heavy: (thinks about this) ...This is good idea.

Heavy: Tiny Heavy, who is your favorite to kill in war? Strong Bad: Hmm, in WAR? Probably those Green Helmets. You know, the guys who don't have any cool weapons or gimmicks, and come in a discount three-pack. Heavy: To kill spy is glorious thing! How about you, Max? You are killing type. Max: My favorite enemy? {gasps} That's like asking me to choose between my children! Heavy: {laughs heartily} You crack me up, little bunny!

Heavy: You look very familiar, bunny. Max: How closely do you follow the Manhattan crime blotter? Wait, you didn't go the Spiro Agnew School of the Arts, did you? Tycho: You attended? Didn't take you for the book learnin' type. Max: No, but Sam and I pinched their gym teacher in a black market jock strap ring in the 80's. I'd be surprised if any student didn't remember a dog choking out a large man with a unibrow.

Strong Bad: I don't trust you one bit, ra-bbit. Max: It's ok, I don't trust myself. Strong Bad: How do we know that you don't have a never ending stack of aces wherever you put your gun? Max: Well, you don't, but you're welcome to look!

Strong Bad: So... Max. You're like one of those (pronounces as poke mons) poke-mons, right? Max: (narrows eyes) My genus and phylum is a mystery to all mankind. Strong Bad: Because I'd love to see some prepubescent pointy-haired kid run in here and stick you inside of a baseball (laughs). (in a high pitched voice, with a smile) That would be hilarious. Max: Are you talking about the red-capped kidnapper who terrorized the fauna on the Upper West Side for months? Strong Bad: Maybe. Max: Because Sam, Flint, and I caught him trying to stuff a chimpanzee into his knapsack, and made him cry for his mommy.

Strong Bad: I wonder if this dump is haunted? Max: (cheerily) Ooh, I hope so. There's something about being able to terrorize a spectral being without it up and dying on you that (furrows eyebrows) I just love. Heavy: (sadly, lowers his head) I do not like ghost. Max: It's OK Mr. Weapons. I've got extensive experience with zombies and vampires. (points toward himself) I can handle a little ghost. Heavy: (with large eyes) You will take care of ghost for me? Max: (cheerily) You betcha. Heavy: (cheerily, nods his head) I like you, tiny rabbit.

(Brock) GLaDOS: Brock Samson is eliminated. Max: GERONIMO! (lands on Brock's head and starts to gnaw on it, to no effect) Die, die, die! Brock: (gets up) I'll be at the bar.

(Claptrap) GLaDOS: Claptrap is eliminated due to lack of funds. Max: Wet willy, wet willy! (sticks a finger in his mouth and inserts it into a hole in Claptrap's side) Claptrap: Hey! That's not my ear, it's my... (both are electrified and fall from chair)

(Ash) GLaDOS: Ashley Williams is eliminated. Ash gets up and reaches for his chainsaw, only to realize it's not there. Max is holding it, standing a foot or so behind him. Max: (grinning maliciously) Looking for something? (looks at Sam normally) Hey, check it out, Sam! I'm a tree surgeon! Sam: (whispering to Ash) He's not really a tree surgeon...! Ash looks worried. Max: (revs up chainsaw) Open wide and say "ah!" (chases Ash away)

#Sam and Max #Sam and Max AU #Poker Buddies AU #Poker Night At The Inventory #Poker Night 2 #Max #tycho brahe #strong bad #Heavy #Ash Williams #Brock Samson #Claptrap #just wanted to share some interesting things that would make your AU better #now I'm obsessed #but Jessica you have your own Poker AU to worry about #but I like this one a lot #I hope this is okay

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1-800-imagine · 3 years

Text

autumn’s song

sero x reader

✎ genre: angst, pro hero au?

✎ warnings: angst, major and implied death

✎ word count: 2.5k

✎ inside scoop: this fic is inspired by autumn’s song by stephen day for more than obvious reasons, and i personally recommend you listen along as you read (you can click here for that). of course you don’t have to if you don’t want to -- whatever optimizes your reading experience.

on a separate note, i’ll probably get some more time to finish up some pieces this weekend that’s honestly debatable but we’ll see. so if you’d like, you can go ahead and request something.

✎ synopsis: fall had always been a tough time for sero, seeing that it had always reminded him of you.

the last thing sero ever wanted to do was get so hung up on the past -- it was the last thing you ever wished for him. though it’s tough when everything seems to bring back so many memories.

even the entire season of fall brought him back to times when you were around. afterall autumn was just filled with so many great memories of your relationship.

swinging through the awfully familiar city of musutafu, sero can feel the tears pooling at the corners of his eyes -- threatening to roll down his cheeks at any given minute.

the tape hero stops at the next post available. he lifts off his helmet in order to take in some of the fresh air. that cold, crisp atmosphere hits sero’s tear-stained cheeks, along with reels of unwanted memories.

he does his best to suppress those reminders of what once was -- at the very least keeping them tucked in the farthest part of his mind so that he can finish up his patrol.

“great,” he utters. just as sero thought he could escape his little swamp of thoughts, he realizes his surroundings -- far too familiar for his own comfort. he looks down, only to see your favorite, seasonal spot, surprised that it was still running its usual business after all this time.

right as the hero boarded up those old memories, the floodgates seem open right back up. this time hitting him harder than the bullet trains running all through japan.

sero felt the wind cascade through his long hair, tickling the back of his neck. he felt your hand in his own -- fingers intertwined. the sound of leaves crunching filled his ears with every step along this newer, unknown path.

your destination, to you, was a mystery -- a surprise actually. sero had always seemed to cross paths with this little cafe on his way to pick you up from your hero work. he was actually quite alarmed, when you said you hadn't heard of it since you passed by almost everyday.

well, sero gave you the benefit of the doubt considering it was a small place -- family-owned he assumed. a quaint little shop, lodged between two much taller, corporate buildings. in short: it was very easy to skip past the place.

when the two of you had stepped inside, you were greeted with a sense of shelter from the cold, bitter outside. that smell of sweet pastries filled your numbed noses. the space was a lot smaller than it appeared to be.

it was empty too, the only other people inside were an older couple, but they didn’t seem much older than the two of you.

the older man wore a mossy green cap, despite there being no sun needed to be shielded from. a narrow, grey streak weaved through the woman’s hair, contrasting its natural, dark tones. it was pretty, representing the wisdom she gained in her years of living.

“ah welcome,” a voice called out. it was the older woman’s voice -- smooth and sweet like honey. “what a lovely young couple,” she mentioned, “you two must’ve been dating for quite a while, yeah?” her question earned a rosy shade from sero’s cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears; and a nervous chuckle was all you could seem to muster up.

“you don’t have to answer her,” the older man, who was presumed to be the woman’s husband, interrupted. just by listening to the tone in his voice alone, sero could tell the man was clearly displeased with the woman’s antics.

the older woman gestured for the two of you to come inside. “we don’t get too many people coming by,” she spoke. “i think that’s obvious,” her husband interjected.

the wife gestured to you two to come in, she made the both of you feel very welcomed -- like a part of their little family. “we’re glad you chose to stay” the husband observed, “we’re the kokawa’s by the way.”

the lady maneuvered around the tables, claiming that the one directly in the center was the most perfect. she handed you two some paper menus as you sat down and got yourselves comfortable. “thank you kokawa-sama” sero thanked, scanning over some of his options.

“please, call me chiyoko,” the older woman requested, “and that is isamu.” she was very casual, inviting you to use both her and her husband’s first names. in return, you had offered your names to the couple, “i’m (y/n), and that’s hanta.” sero felt so giddy inside when you pronounced his name, like a little kid on the swing set. it was just that he always loved how his name rolled off your tongue.

chiyoko shared some of the couple’s favorite items with the two of you, “i recommend the yuzu honey, it can be served hot or cold,” she explained, “the hojicha is a favorite of isamu’s; though, i would only indulge after a big meal.”

your eyes seemed to have lit up at something chiyoko recommended, and sero knew exactly what it was. given the two of you had been dating for a year or so, he was able to read you like the back of his hand.

“i think the yuzu honey sounds great,” you ordered -- just as sero predicted, a silly, little smirk gracing his lips. he knew how much you loved that sweet, citrus tea rain or shine. “and what about you?” chiyoko had seemed to catch sero off guard. “i, uh, yuzu honey as well please,” he uttered.

“so the two yuzu honey? that’s all?” chiyoko affirms. you respond with a small nod.

the older woman takes the menus and walks to the back, leaving the two of you alone for a moment. “thank you hanta,” you expressed. “what for?” the male asks, hints of confusion littered in his voice. “this,” you answered, “we haven’t spent quality time like this in a while.”

there was a pause in your words, and you reached out for sero’s hand across the table. “i’m sorry,” you muttered. when you looked up, your boyfriend noticed the glassiness layered over top your eyes.

“don’t be,” he assures, “we’ve been really busy lately, you know, saving the city.” his signature proud, triangular smile lit up the room. “but i’m glad we can spend some time together every now and then,” sero adds, giving your hand a tight squeeze.

you found so much comfort in his words -- it was like he knew exactly what to say.

“ahem,” isamu grunted. he was holding a small tray with two cups of tea balanced on top. from the background you could hear chiyoko scolding her husband, “isamu, quit being so impatient. can’t you see they’re having such a sweet moment.” you watched as she discarded a lonesome tear.

isamu took the cups from the little tray and gently placed them on the table. “don’t worry about it,” sero assured, followed with a light-hearted chuckle; your lips shifted into a simple little smirk.

you took a small little sip of the tea from the cup, your expression perking up almost immediately -- like a small dog wagging their little tail. the steam from the cup warmed up your face as well. sero took a swig of his tea, and he tasted the bright flavors of the yuzu, which contrasted the duller shades of autumn.

“enjoy?” the older woman asked. your small, little smirk spread into a smile. “very much,” you responded.

while you continued to sip on your drinks, chiyoko even brought out albums of countless, old photos of the life her and isamu had shared. it was a life sero only wished he’d be able to share with you.

but things aren’t always so simple -- they always say all good things must come to an end, right?

it was the first day of fall following summer -- the weather was much cooler than the previous days. some people even claimed it to be an ominous sign. the wind threatened to pull trees from their roots, the fog made it difficult to see nearly five feet ahead.

but sero continued to fight the both wind and the fog. he rushed through the city, because he knew what was at stake. cellophane had been called onto the scene to support a mission gone awry -- your mission that had gone awry.

the closer sero got, the more he could see how disastrous the mission had gone. what was once a tall standing building, now turned to nothing but rubble. heroes from all over the board came to offer any sort of assistance.

though he could barely recognize them, but sero even saw some of his old high school classmates coming to the rescue.

he watched as the tentacle hero, tentacole, brought the leftover civilians to safety, being sure to shield them from any of ground zero and gale force’s uncontrollable blasts of power. uravity, sugar rush, and battle fist had been maneuvering larger masses in order to find anyone hidden in the debris, while alien queen melted away the concrete and steel.

even sero’s former teacher, eraserhead, worked with the underground hero, mind jack, to round up the last of the villains.

as soon as the tape hero swung onto the scene, he found the nearest person he could ask for help. he figured top hero creati was sure to know where you could be. “mo-creati,” cellophane announced, granting him the creation hero’s attention. “have you seen them?” he questioned.

the least she gave him was a shake of her head. “i’m sorry,” the creation hero began, “we don’t know of their whereabouts as of right now.” though she made it seem that she was composed under the frantic situation, creati was just as scared as cellophane.

from then sero did one of the most unprofessional, irrational things a hero could do and run straight into the chaos without any other instruction. it was against protocol -- it was against his own rules, but he was desperate to know if you were safe.

“cellophane!” another hero called out. it was red riot, a former classmate and a close friend. the bmi hero, fat gum, followed close behind.

sero gripped both of his red-haired pal’s sturdy shoulders. “please,” the hero’s voice began to grow desperate, “please tell me you’ve seen them.”

“no,” the red-head answered. sero began to drown himself in his own thoughts. where on earth could you be? were you even alright? you had to be. he thought. “but the last anyone has heard or seen from them was over that away,” red riot pointed out.

cellophane gave his buddy a simple nod as a sign of appreciation, before proceeding down the path he had pointed out.

as he continued in that direction, the tape hero stumbled across a body, which laid dormant and defeated in front of him. he recognized the definable features to be yours, eyes growing wide at the sight. despair washed over sero at his discovery.

‘no it isn’t,’ he thought, ‘it can’t possibly be them. is it?’ sero knew there was only one possible way to answer that question -- a question he wished he would never have to answer.

it was almost like his legs took root in the ground below, his knees pulled him to the ground like heavy rocks. sero felt himself sinking into the ground.

“(y/n)?” he whispered. the warmth of his arms contrasted that of the body held between them.

a silent bubble formed around the two of you, but all sero wished for was to hear your voice. he wanted that voice to tell him that everything would all be okay. that things would soon go back to normal -- though he knew they wouldn’t.

“hanta, say something. please,” you begged, your words filling that silence, “let me hear your voice once more.”

nothing. unlike the countless times before, sero didn’t know what to say. he simply just didn’t have the right words.

you had brought your hand up to hold onto sero’s cheek, and he felt the warmth begin to fade. “hanta,” you spoke out, barely even whispering. every breath containing less and less life in it.

“(y/n). . .” he whimpered, but it was too late. your hand dropped due to the lack of life in it. “(y/n)” he continued, “(y/n), please, (y/n)!” the tears finally began to fall, with no sign of stopping anytime soon.

“don’t leave me,” he pleaded, “don’t leave me without saying goodbye.”

there was no response.

“you promised,” the words echoed through the open space, “you promised.”

that day japan lost a strong hero, and sero lost an even stronger love.

just about two autumns have passed since your incident, and there isn’t a day that goes by where sero doesn’t think about how things might’ve been if you were still around.

he wonders if you would still have been the same person you were back then. he wonders what would have changed. what would have stayed the same?

but sero knows he can’t get so hung up on the what if’s, because they aren’t the reality -- a reality without you around anymore.

the wind hits the back of sero’s neck, and it brings him back to that first time he walked down this once familiar path. however, this time he can only wish that you were still by his side, accompanying him.

when the male stepps inside, he’s hit with that same warmth once more. just this time he can tell that something was the slightest bit off.

a voice calls out -- isamu, “long time no see.” a long time it indeed had been -- just about two years to be exact.

since the tragedy had struck, sero hadn’t come back to the little cafe; however, the male figured he’d stop by while he was already in the area. at least to say his hello’s to the couple if nothing else.

the older woman, chiyoko, emerges from the back room, a tray in her hands. her eyes grow wide, like she some sort of apparition stood in front of her. “welcome back,” chiyoko greets. a relieving smile shifts onto her face. it makes sero feel at home -- the most at home he’s felt in a little while. “please come sit,” isamu insists.

sero does as he’s told, walking toward the center of the cafe -- the best seat in the house. it reminds him of that first time he visited with you.

chiyoko comes by the table with a small cup in hand. “yuzu honey?” she offers, “it’s on the house.” sero gives the woman a simple little nod, taking the offering from her. as he sips on what once was your favorite beverage, he tastes that bright, citrus flavor. that flavor you had fallen in love with all that time ago.

“how’s (y/n) doing?” chiyoko questions. she was always a very curious woman and probably couldn’t help but ask. sero could hear isamu grunting from behind, attempting to signal to chiyoko that she may have overstepped her boundaries.

“it’s alright,” sero utters, “they-”

he can’t even give the older couple a proper answer. so instead, sero put on that signature, triangular smile -- like a mask, covering the deep, twisted despair inside. he took a deep inhale and lied.

“they’ve been doing well,” he wished.

#boku no hero academia #bhna #bhna imagines #bhna angst #bhna x reader #my hero academia #mha #mha imagines #mha angst #mha x reader #sero hanta #sero hanta x reader #sero x reader #sero angst

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boxoftheskyking · 3 years

Text

Pick Up Every Piece, Part Two

how do you write Wei Ying? All talking. How do you write Lan Zhan? Run on sentences, of course.

have some exposition. everyone is a mess, wahoo.

Part One

---

Lan Zhan’s iron is broken.

There’s no reason it should be—he keeps it clean and returns it to its original box after each use, and it’s barely three years old. But no matter what he does, it does not heat. He shouldn’t even need to iron his shirt in the morning, but deadline on deadline (and budget cuts on budget cuts) mean that he hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep in six days and hasn’t done laundry in a week. There are dishes piled up in the kitchen sink, so he’s started avoiding the kitchen entirely on his way to crash into bed so he doesn’t have to see it.

Things break, Lan Zhan accepts this. They wear out, come to accidents, disappoint you, die. But there’s no reason for this iron not to work. There have been no odd smells, the plug is fine—he’s tried three different outlets—and it’s barely three years old.

He stands in his closet in an undershirt and boxers, one hand pressed flat against the heating element, and allows himself a two minute breakdown.

There’s no reason for it. He’s done everything right, ticked every box. He started writing at age ten and hasn’t stopped since. He was top of his class at university, edited every school paper he had access to and founded two more, he got his masters. Even factoring in nepotism—which he doesn’t like to do, because it makes him feel like a cheat—he’s gone about as far as he can as a journalist. He’s won every major award, and with his uncle as managing editor he has more freedom than most in terms of how he writes and what he covers. He served the Republic, fought for two and half years and got a Sunshot medal for it. And yet, after ten years in his chosen field, everything is dying around him. No one pays for papers anymore, no one cares for the truth anymore. Political pundits on TV and radio have taken over the readership; citizens still traumatized by war just want someone to tell them what to think, tell them everything is fine now, tell them to ignore the injustices and messes and misfortunes that surround them. When he started at the Gusu Herald there were fifty people on staff—now they’re down to under twenty, including editors. All the small town papers in the area have closed, but there’s hardly the staff to even consider local stories these days. Lan Qiren tries to hold out as the last family-owned paper in the area, but corporations are circling. It’s like he spent his whole youth building a shining bridge across a canyon, only to find the other side barren and dead, miles of cold steel and no light on the horizon.

He turns the iron and presses it against his chest, imagines it suddenly turning on, the satisfaction of the burn.

Then he unplugs the iron, puts it back in its box, and pulls on the wrinkled shirt. He pulls up the blackout curtains to let a little of the thin 7am light into the bedroom. There’s no reason to still have blackout curtains in Gusu, but he got used to it years ago and once he gets used to things he tends not to change them without reason. But he’s got plants now, gifts from his brother, and he’s trying to keep them alive. It shouldn’t be that difficult to do, he is conscientious and meticulous, but then his iron shouldn’t be broken either.

No one comments on his wrinkled appearance when he gets to work, which irks him. There is the familiar sound of phones ringing, printers going, file cabinets slamming open and closed in every direction. It’s calming to him, but he can’t help but notice how much quieter it is now than when he started. Part of it is the new computers—when he started here they were still on electric typewriters which were deafening. But mostly it just feels . . . empty.

Not completely empty, not yet.

“Hey, hey Lan Zhan,” Lan Meiling waves him over to her desk, where a half dozen reporters are gathered around a computer printout. “Did you see this? Jin Zixun’s the new head of the Trade Commission. Just announced.”

Lan Zhan winces and looks over the report.

“But we’re not a monarchy, right guys?” Liu Dong snorts, shoving Meiling’s shoulder.

“It’s not a monarchy, it’s the other thing,” Wang Tengfei says, tapping his chin. “What’s the thing where it’s not passed down by birth, but you still appoint all your family members? That’s a thing isn’t it?”

“That’s just Jin Guangshan,” Liu Dong laughs. “But hush, hush, treason.”

“Come on, what’s the word for it?” Tengfei asks again.

Meiling takes the paper back from Lan Zhan. “Wasn’t he the one who paid for his grades in college? I get them confused.”

Lan Zhan nods. “That was Jin Zixun. Who’s got the story? There should be clippings. ‘92, I think, or ‘93.”

“Who covered that? Any of you?” Su She leans over the cubicle wall, knocking the photo of Meiling’s family onto her desk. There’s no reason for him to be here; he doesn’t cover politics. He’s had the local court beat for the past three years, and has spent those three years writing the exact same story five times a week with different names and charges plugged in. Lan Zhan is completely sure that he’d cover a person fined for unpaid parking tickets and a person arrested for smuggling baby unicorns with the exact same level of interest.

“Wei Ying wrote the story,” Lan Zhan says. The group falls silent, a troubled glance flying between all but him. “Before the merger, in the Gusu Times. Lan Shu can pull the clippings for you. It was a series, I believe.”

Lan Meiling coughs. “You can find a different reference, Liu Dong. Someone in Qinghe must have covered it.”

“It was a good series,” Lan Zhan says. He’s being needlessly stubborn, but that’s nothing new. “Wei Ying got the school registrar on the record.”

Liu Dong scratches the back of his shaved head. “Yeah, but. You know. I’ll call over to Qinghe.”

“It was a good series,” Lan Zhan says again. It’s awkward enough to break up the group, everyone shuffling back to their desks or the coffee maker. Lan Zhan has that uncomfortable feeling that he’s supposed to want to apologize for something. It’s a feeling he gets a lot, and he hates it. He doesn’t want to apologize—he has nothing to apologize for. Wei Ying was a good reporter; he wrote good stories. Everything that happened after that doesn’t change the fact that he was good at what he did.

Su She follows him over to his desk, so his day is about to keep getting worse. Lan Zhan prides himself on being rational, and he has many rational reasons for disliking Su She. He’s a half-assed writer, he wouldn’t know a decently placed comma if it was unveiled to him on a pedestal by the gods, he is a busybody and a gossip, and he lives to take credit for other people’s work. He’ll offer you the phone number of one of his “connections” and then whine about how he deserves a shared byline.

But on many levels beyond the rational, Lan Zhan hates the guy. He hates the way he pronounces words, his laugh, the smell of his lunch, even his handwriting. And he’s always there.

“You knew him, didn’t you, Lan Zhan?” Su She leans on his cubicle now, though there are no photographs to knock down.

Lan Zhan’s instinctual response is Don’t call me that, which is ridiculous because it’s his name. But he hates the way his name sounds in Su She’s mouth.

“What?”

“Wei Ying. You knew him before the scandal, didn’t you?”

Lan Zhan takes an even breath. “Yes.”

“Did you work with him?”

“He was at the Times, before the merger. He never worked at the Herald.”

“But you knew him in school, right?”

If Lan Zhan wanted to be fair (he doesn’t), there’s no way for Su She to know that this line of questioning is particularly painful. He distracts himself from the sting of it by considering all of the answers he won’t be giving.

Yes. He gave me half a handjob in 1989 and I’ve thought of it every day since.

Yes. He called me his soulmate one day in the library at Gusu University and I’ve thought of it every day since.

Yes, I read the story that ruined his life before it was published, because he came to my home and asked me to read it and he was so proud, skinny and manic and over-caffeinated and burning, burning, burning, and I looked at him and I recognized the same thing that burns in me, the thing that keeps me coming back to this sad beige office every day, that makes me want to fight the inevitable like swinging swords at the sea, and I didn’t tell him not to publish. I told him it was a good story. It would not have stopped him, me telling him not to do it. But I could have tried. And I’ve thought of that every day since.

He just nods, instead.

“Is he still alive, do you think?” Su She asks casually.

The question stops Lan Zhan. “What?”

“No one’s heard from him since the war, have they? Could have died somewhere. Plenty still missing. I heard he went West, maybe, and the fighting was—”

“He is not dead.” Lan Zhan doesn’t know this for sure. But he would know, surely. Wouldn’t he? The thought honestly has not occurred to him in all these years, that Wei Ying might have died.

“Are you in touch?” Su She has a habit of asking questions like this, flipping from casual conversation to an interrogation. It makes him a terrible reporter.

“I served with his brother. He has not mentioned that Wei Ying has died. I have work to do, Su She.”

It bothers him, even after Su She leaves. He hasn’t seen Jiang Cheng in a few years, and they do not write or call each other. Jin Zixuan writes to them all about once a year, and he visits when he’s in Gusu, but he has always been the more sentimental one of the three of them, the survivors. But he thinks that Jiang Cheng would tell him if Wei Ying had died.

Perhaps he wouldn’t. Jiang Cheng was not at school with them; he may not think of Lan Zhan as a person to notify in the event of his brother’s death. Would anyone think to let him know? It wouldn’t make the papers, probably, so how would he know? Wen Qing, perhaps. If she remembered. If she is also alive.

He feels it like an itch on his skin, something unsettled in his stomach, the idea that Wei Ying might not have survived. He would know, wouldn’t he? He’d feel it, the change in the fabric of the universe. Food would taste different, his voice would sound different. He’d feel it in the moments between sleeping and waking.

He makes a cup of tea and boots up his computer. They all have emails now, which is still a relatively new part of the morning ritual, but he doesn’t mind adding it as he checks his mail, his answering machine. He had a deadline yesterday and isn’t swamped this morning, so he takes down phone numbers and flips through his calendar on autopilot while he thinks about Wei Ying.

Wei Ying probably remembers him. He definitely remembers him, it would be ridiculous for him not to, but Lan Zhan doubts he remembers their college years the same way.

(His fingers in Wei Ying’s hair, shoved against the wall in someone else’s dark bedroom, cheering and laughter from the drinking game just downstairs, cheap beer on his breath, everything spinning, spinning, his first time being drunk, his brain singing out kiss him, kiss him again, more, more, more, this is your chance, Wei Ying’s left hand on him, awkward and surprisingly tender, Wei Ying’s voice slurring in his ear “Lan Zhan I’m so glad you’re here, I’m so glad, I’m so glad I found you, Lan Zhan,” before the door bursts open and they spring apart, before Wei Ying ruffles his hair and says, “You probably won’t remember this, huh?” before they leave the party separately, before weeks of silence because what do you say to all of that, before Wei Ying and Wen Qing get together and Lan Zhan says, “I’m happy for you,” which is a lie, a lie, a lie, before Wei Ying and Wen Qing split up and Lan Zhan says, “I’m sorry to hear that,” which is a lie, a lie, a lie . . .)

He could do some digging. It probably wouldn’t be too difficult to find him, and it’s not like Lan Zhan lacks resources. But every time the thought crosses his mind it feels like too much, too violating. If Wei Ying wanted to be found, he would not have disappeared. And if Wei Ying wanted Lan Zhan in his life, he knows where to find him. Lan Zhan is not the one who left.

That’s a bitter thought, and unfair.

The story of Wei Ying is not complicated, and it’s not secret, but it’s never told right.

They’d met in college, when Wei Ying transferred to Gusu in junior year, in a psych class of all places. Lan Zhan had a double major, because psychology and journalism was a logical pairing, and Wei Ying was meant to take a broadcast concentration but had broken his wrist falling off a roof and couldn’t work any of the equipment.

Lan Zhan hadn’t known what to do with him at first. Wei Ying had grabbed him for the first group project a week into the semester, declaring, “We’re kindred spirits, you know,” before writing his phone number left-handed on Lan Zhan’s arm. Lan Zhan did not know. They had barely spoken before this, but for the rest of the semester Wei Ying sat by him and they studied together and Lan Zhan pulled strings to get him onto the university paper. And Wei Ying had grinned at him one day in the library, sleep-deprived and rumpled, when Lan Zhan had finished his trailed-off sentence, and said “Ah, my soulmate.”

They were kindred spirits, Lan Zhan believed. Lan Zhan decided he wanted to be a reporter when he was ten and learned the truth about his parents. After an entire childhood of being lied to, he decided his calling in life would be to tell the truth, no matter what. It made him odd and prickly, and usually lonely, but gave him a reputation of fearlessness and ferocity that he would never regret.

Wei Ying was different. He wasn’t so invested in the truth from a moral or political perspective—he was cheerfully amoral back then, in a teenage kind of way—but he loved information and he loved being right. Puzzles and secrets attracted him, and Lan Zhan watched them open up for him like lotus flowers at every turn.

Lan Zhan settled into their friendship in a way that was unexpected, he began to rely on Wei Ying’s opinion, began to think of things from his perspective when he found himself stuck. And then he’d gotten drunk at a midwinter party and kissed Wei Ying and ruined all of it. It wasn’t Wei Ying’s fault. Lan Zhan had panicked and run and then left for break and never given Wei Ying his home number, and then when he returned Wei Ying wasn’t single anymore. He’d gone to Yiling with Wen Qing and her brother and come back someone’s boyfriend. (Wen Qing! Older, beautiful, stern and razor-sharp, who Lan Zhan had hero-worshipped, the part-time advisor to the school paper who turned down more offers than either of them would see in their lifetimes. That Wen Qing!) And Lan Zhan didn’t know how to handle it so he just . . . let it go. They stayed in touch while Wei Ying moved back to Yunmeng for a while, then got a job at the Times after the war started, and Lan Zhan joined the Herald and went to grad school, always Wei Ying reaching out first. But even after they were both single again and living in the same city, they just stayed apart.

It would be easy—completely unfair, but easy—to blame Wen Qing for all of it. But all she’d done was the same thing Lan Zhan had. Loved Wei Ying, and failed to stop him. If anything, Wen Qing is better than he is—when Wei Ying fell, at least she fell with him.

The downfall was not complicated, and he should have seen it coming. When Wei Ying showed up at his door in the middle of the night with a crumpled print out of his story, Lan Zhan should have seen where it would lead.

It was 1994, three years into the war, and Lan Zhan was in training with the cultivator corps in Lanling. In retrospect, that’s likely how Wei Ying found him—Jiang Cheng was in his unit and must have given the address. Perhaps that was one of the reasons he didn’t stop Wei Ying. Everything was so unreal, the war, the devastation, the training, cultivation itself. Everything he’d known about life, the country, physics, what is possible and what is just a legend, all of it was thrown out into a whirling storm of adapt, adapt, adapt. It was chaos, and Lan Zhan became very good at chaos.

The story would have been a bombshell in any year—over a dozen former assistants, interns, and even one sitting representative accusing the Acting President of the Republic of misconduct and abuse. Rumors about Jin Guangshan were older than his political career, and illegitimate children were hardly rare in government, but Wei Ying had been the first to get multiple accusers on the record along with recordings and photos. Wen Qing, the youngest managing editor in the country and one of only two women, had agreed to run the story.

It was a good story. A really, really good story.

But there was a war on, and Acting President Jin was the only protection the country had against the usurper Wen Ruohan and his army of traitors. Not that Jin Guangshan ever left Carp Tower himself—that’s what the oldest son was for.

The blowback was immediate—Wei Ying was forced to retract the entire story and resign, Wen Qing was fired and the Gusu Times lost every advertiser and investor on the books. It was only natural for Lan Qiren to buy it up for pocket change, the merger he’d been looking at for years. All of the women named in the story issued statements accusing Wei Ying of lying, of doctoring evidence, of hiring actors that looked like them to fill his false story with fake photos. All statements made after visits from high ranking military officers, of course. He’d heard rumors that Wen Qing’s brother had enlisted and they used him for leverage, which wouldn’t be surprising. He hadn’t expected Wen Qing to give up without a fight.

Wei Ying had written to him once, just after he disappeared, with no return address.

It’s my fault, it said. Lan Zhan, it was all true, the story was true, but I’m still a liar. I told them I could protect them all, if they went on the record. I promised. I promised Wen Qing. And I couldn’t. I’m sorry, Lan Zhan, I never wanted to be a liar.

And in the end, it meant nothing. Few enough people were getting daily papers, much less actually reading them, and with the immediate retraction, reams and reams being taken off newsstands by military police, it was barely a drop in the storm that was raging. Outside of the newsrooms themselves, at least, where Wei Ying and Wen Qing were nailed up on the wall as a cautionary tale. Free press, up to a point. Sometimes Lan Zhan thinks about what would happen if the story broke today, the impact it could have. But after the retraction, you can’t go back. He can’t think about it too long or the rage overtakes him. Rage for Wei Ying, for Wen Qing, for every person in the article who was smothered and tossed out with nothing. The kind of rage that doesn’t fade, can’t be extinguished.

Lan Zhan shakes himself. Wei Ying is alive. Wen Qing is also alive, most likely. Su She is an idiot.

He only has one message on his answering machine.

“Hey, Lan Zhan, it’s your cousin Lan Liang. Listen, I’ve got something I want to talk to you about. I don’t know if it’s your thing, or if you choose what you cover or whatever, but there’s a kid gone missing here in Moling and some very weird stuff going on at the building sites. I don’t have all the details, but it’s my uncle’s daughter-in-law’s foster kid. Cops aren’t giving them much, so I said I’d call you. I don’t know if the kid went wandering and got hurt or got lost or what, but maybe someone from the Herald can cover it, get the public interest up. Maybe someone knows something. I don’t know. Probably a long shot, but I said I’d call, so there you go. You can reach me at—”

Lan Zhan takes down the number neatly in his calendar. He can call after the 10am meeting, maybe drive out to Moling in the afternoon. The rage is still there, banked and contained and ready to be useful.

Part Three

#assorted writings #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #cql #pick up every piece #Just getting! shit! written! who! cares! if! its! good!

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ssson-of-sparda · 3 years

Text

WHAT FORTUNE GAVE - CHAPTER 1 (VERGIL X NERO’S MOTHER)

Summary: Vergil arrives in Fortuna and crosses path with a rebellious lady dressed in red. But even if he doesn't want pay attention, Fortuna seemed determined to intertwine their lives.

(PROLOGUE)

Tags: Romance / Angst / Fluff / Explicit Sexual Content / Explicit Language / Canon-Typical Violence / Blood and Gore / Religion / The Order of The Sword / Civil War / Rebellion / Demons / Action and Adventure / Sparda’s past

Author’s note: So, let me introduce you to Elissa aka Nero's mother. I've decided to make her rebellious and quite feisty to mirror Nero's impetuosity. After all, that kid had to take after someone, right? So why not mummy dearest? I know the story might seem slow to start but I need to set up the scenery for the events to come. Hope you like it anyway.

It all started on a Holy Thursday, on the first day of a most-welcomed vigorous spring that tinted the cityscape of the Castle Town of Fortuna in luminous shades of gold and blue. The cobbled streets were empty, the shops and cafes all closed, for all the inhabitants were gathered inside the Cathedral whose majestic dome overlooked the nearby Renaissance-style buildings, a sacred beacon calling the devotees to pray. But the religious establishment was nothing in comparison to the partially-veiled giant-like idol standing tall and massive within the ramparts of the city, a figure made of stone and marble with the face of Vergil’s father. It didn’t look very resembling to him. Sparda never had such delicate features, not in his son’s memories at least. But it did not matter. The young man wasn’t here to judge some clearly distasteful architecture. He was here for the answers and the promises of power that island kept in between its walls. “The Order of the Sword, huh? They worship a demon as a god?” This reality sounded foolish, incomprehensible even. His father was no god. He knew that better than anyone. But what was religion if not idealisation, divinisation of a flawed man? Humans …

***

“Elissa!” A fearful whisper pronounced the girl’s name but it would take more than a whisper for her to stop her mischief. “Elissa! Come dddd-down!” The girl named Elissa smiled, enjoying the risk she was definitely taking. Degrading the Savior? Not her first time. But she had never climbed that high before. “What if sss-omeone sees you … sss-ees us?” She rolled her green eyes, weary of the perpetual anxiety shaking the already very trembling voice of her friend. “Agnus! Stop being such a pussy!” She shouted-murmured, not really knowing why she was murmuring at all. “Everyone’s at church!” Agnus fidgeted even more as he saw the young woman taking her time spraying blue paint on the statue, the tip of her rosy tongue out, an adorable display of her concentration and perfectionism. “Does it look like the Guard’s symbol to you?” She demanded, observing her rebellious art from all possible angles. Agnus sighed and looked up, regretting to have left his lab for this childish yet dangerous adventure. He wasn’t a teenager anymore. He even had a woman and a baby daughter waiting for him at home. So why wasting time playing vandals with Elissa? He knew why. “You’re not looking under my skirt, are you?” The man blushed, terribly uncomfortable. “What? Of cccc-ourse not!” But he was a scientist and scientists were curious beings. That’s what he was telling himself each time he was thinking about what was hidden underneath Elissa’s crimson clothes.The Cathedral bells rang loud, signalling the end of today’s mass. Soon, the people of Fortuna would invade the streets again to come back to their boring daily occupations. “We’re definitely gonna get ccc-caught.” Agnus told himself. “What am I gonna tell Marcus?” A suspect noise stopped Agnus in his alarming thoughts. It was coming from a few streets away. Squeals and growls of fury and pain. Demons? “Ddd-did you hear that?” Elissa listened carefully and recognized the screams. She had heard similar ones in Mitis Forest recently. She had shut a lot of them up too. They were demons alright but not the worst kind. “Just a few …scarecrows.” She tried to reassure Agnus but realised he was already gone. “Such a pussy.” She shook her head, slightly exasperated but not surprised. Agnus was not famous for his bravery, quite the opposite. He was a coward but Elissa was okay with it. After all, he had been providing the Guardians with very useful information concerning demons for a few years now, all that thanks to his natural talents as an alchemist. The girl jumped off the statue and, in order to remove the beige dust from the fabric, shook her old red dress typical of Fortuna fashion, one of the few clothes she had kept from her past life in the Order and that she now used to blend in among the Fortunans each time she would venture in town. She then cautiously pulled up her skirt to reveal a thigh belt hidden under the white petticoat and strapped the spray can, right next to a sharp curved dagger she kept in a thin leather sheath just in case. “Hey! You!” Did we say cautiously? “Shit!” Time to run.

***

Yamato shone in the sun, casting a shadow on Vergil’s young face that even this small fight hadn’t manage to fluster, and once again the blade made one with the saya with a perfect clink that echoed like a lethal musical note in the demon-cleared street. “Just what are your true intentions?” He wondered out loud as he wrapped his blue frame under a linen cloak that looked foreign to anyone who would take a look.Elissa took a look, green eyes staring with curiosity from under her white hood she had carelessly thrown above her head in precipitation to cover her soft locks of fiery ginger when she had left the place of her previous mischief as fast as she could, successfully escaping the angry guards shouting at her. She took a look, knowing exactly what this stranger had just done as she watched him crossing the crowd with purpose, alone, going up the street towards the Cathedral while everyone was walking down, their minds still lost in religious psalms. She stopped in her track for a second to admire him, wondering who he was and where he came from. She imagined a distant city at first, somewhere far away from here, crowded with people who hadn’t been indoctrinated by the Order’s promises. But then, as she noticed his bearing, so stately and yet so lonely, she thought he wasn’t from a particular place but from many places. A wanderer, traveling the world, someone who held knowledge, who had seen what was beyond the horizon of Fortuna. He probably noticed her stare as he concealed his face even more under his hood and slightly hunched his shoulders. So, out of respect and despite her devouring curiosity, Elissa walked away, certain that if Sparda wanted her to meet this mysterious strange again, then their paths would cross one more time.Vergil quietly made his way in the main avenue where the marble giant was standing and slowed down when he noticed a small crowd gathered by the statue’s feet. Everyone was gasping in shock, hands over mouths as if they were the witnesses of the worst sacrilege, the most terrible infamy. Wondering what the fuss was all about, the Son of Sparda peered over everyone’s shoulders from a distance but close enough to spot a graffiti plastered on the leg of the thing the Fortunans seemed to call The Savior. It was a symbol of some sort, a pair of winged arms with sharp claws protecting Sparda’s horned head. It had been drawn with turquoise paint that was still running down the immaculate white stone and that was leaving a heavy odour of solvents in the ambient air, identical to the one Vergil had smelt when that girl who had stared at him with insistence had walked past him, an odour indicating Vergil when the degradation had been made and who had done it.He scoffed briefly, amused by the political provocation and the over-dramatic reaction of the bigoted crowd, and after glancing one last time at the spray-painted symbol, resumed his exploration of the city. “Looks like appearances can be deceiving in this city after all.” Vergil said as he thought about the rebellious girl in saint clothes who didn’t seem to be new in the graffiti drawing business according to the devotees’ wrath. “Those rebels again! Soiling the image of Sparda with their belligerent propaganda. Hope the Order will find them soon.” They agreed with each other with angry nods. “They are worse than demons! They probably hide in shadows like the rats they are.” Had Vergil just stepped in the middle of a civil war?

***

When her holy hood fell back on her shoulders, Elissa sighed in relief, glad to finally feel her soft ginger hair finally liberated from that awful religious cage of white cotton she couldn’t stand wearing anymore. Few more minutes and she would also get rid of that ridiculous dress that constricted her like a straitjacket. But right now, she had a meeting to attend. Summoned by her leader, probably to claim responsibility for her new roguishness that had caused such a big turmoil in the city this morning, she pushed the door of Guardian Marcus’s office without an ounce of fear or apprehension. She knew full well she would not be reprimanded. She never was. “Elissa! My child, come.” The white-haired old man welcomed her with wide opened arms and showed her a seat before him where she sat in silence and waited for him to say what he had to say.At first, he just stared at her, without a word but with half a smile and a look of amusement he couldn’t keep to himself. And finally he spoke with a cheerful tone. “You should have painted it red.” His loud laugh echoed in the room and he took a huge sip of the red wine waiting to be drunk in a fancy chalice next to his velvet armchair. Elissa had a timid respectful smile; unable to act casual with this man who, even though was distant family, had been leading the cause she was fighting for for so many years, since even before she was born. “How did you find out?” “Agnus told me.” He admitted and gauged the girl’s reaction who seemed more disappointed in herself than surprised. “Should have thought so.” “Be careful who you surround yourself with, Elissa. Offering someone your trust can be as dangerous as any blade. Believe me, I know.” He traced the large scar along his wrinkled face, a reminder of an old betrayal that had made him lose, in addition to his left eye, a man he used to call brother and who was now leading Fortuna thanks to his lies and his dark secrets. Sanctus. “I shall remember your advice, sir.” “But you know what surprises me the most? It’s that Adel didn’t try to talk you out of this. After all, he follows you like a shadow … an enamoured shadow even.” Marcus smiled, trying to build complicity with this young lady, the granddaughter of the brother he had lost long ago, a child he loved like his own. Elissa smiled in return and shook her head, having trouble to believe she was having this conversation with her leader. “And yet you seemed keen on refusing his advances. May I know why?” “I didn’t know this was a matchmaking appointment.” Elissa humoured, definitely amused by the situation. “I’m old and I’ve been at war for most of my life. So let’s say, the frivolity of youth and the burgeoning loves are like peaceful songs to my heart.” Elissa sighed and her heart, in spite of this new attempt at making it yield to a man she didn’t love, once again refused to see Adel as nothing else than a friend. “I’m just not interested. Enamoured shadows are not my type.” “ And what, pray tell, is your type?”

***

Vergil had visited many places in his short lifetime. Perpetually on the move – he refused to say ‘on the run anymore’ for running was for the weak – he had seen so many cities, so many different landscapes, some in shades of blue, some in shades of green and other in shades of gold, so many colours most men would have forgotten but that he had somehow always cared to remember. But there was something about Fortuna that made her unique, different from all the things he had had the chance to see. Perhaps was it the anachronistic almost medieval atmosphere that had shaped the city architecture and the inhabitants’ lifestyle or perhaps was it because every edifice seemed to hold secret knowledge about his family. Whatever it was, Vergil was sure of one thing; what made Fortuna special were clearly not the city’s filthy underground bars from Port Caerula, well hidden under the docks, away from prying eyes that would be easily outraged by the debauchery they held between their walls. That kind of place he was familiar with, despite his revulsion for them and the people frequenting them. “Hello, sugar. You’re a new face.” An eccentric woman declared as she tried to take a peek under Vergil’s cowl, her voluptuous body leant against the bar. “And a handsome one. I would lower my price for a face like yours.” The young man glanced at the woman, shortly but long enough to see how she looked, the embodiment of repulsive tragedy that once looked beautiful. Her makeup was smeared and barely hiding the bruises and the cuts on her young face and she was wearing a church outfit ripped at the thighs and purposely unbuttoned to reveal her generous cleavage. And in her velvet purse, she kept a wig made of dry artificial ginger hair some despicable men had certainly asked her to wear more than once. “Not interested. Now leave.” Vergil’s tone was curt and cold but she insisted anyway. “You’re sure? I make the best blowjobs in all Fortuna. Isn’t that right, Captain?” She nodded towards a young charismatic brown-skinned man carrying a crossbow on his back and drinking sitting the stool right next to Vergil. When he heard his name, he spared a glare at the prostitute and at the Son of Sparda as well for no particular reason but because he hated his occasional obscene deviations to be exposed. “He just looooves some naughty church girls. Do you like them too?” Vergil ignored her and focused again on his drink, lying untouched on the bar. He didn’t like drinking. “Or do you prefer them innocent and prudish? I can be either.” “Quit with your lies and just leave, Pomona².” The dark-haired man ordered with a strong voice that made her smile. “ Ha! Looks like I finally have my name back. See you around, sugar… Adel.” She winked and left to sell her body to someone else that would accept it in exchange of a bit of money.“You should not visit that sort of bar if women like Pomona bother you, stranger.” The so-called Adel warned before drinking from his tankard. He, just like everybody else here, could tell Vergil was not from around. All they had to do was looking at him. After all, everyone knew everyone else in a small reclusive island like Fortuna. “It’s sometimes the loudest, worst people that give all the information a man looks for.” “So you’re looking for information then. About what?” Vergil was a curious man but he despised curiosity in other people, especially when he was the subject of their curiosity. “Nothing a man like you knows about.” The answer surprised the Moor who hadn’t expected such arrogance coming from a stranger. “Well, piece of advice. If you want information in Fortuna, there are two ways to get them. Either you don’t behave like an arrogant asshole or you pay for them.” Vergil smirked slightly under his hood as he already knew how to react to such pathetic insult. Adel was not a difficult man to read. “Just like when you want a woman’s love, am I right?” The provocation burnt and stang like the most vicious hot poker piercing through

Adel’s dignity and ego. It pushed him to stand up and grab his crossbow in retaliation. But his weapon, as precise and strong as it was, was useless in close combat and it instantly met the sharp blade of a magnificent katana that would make any swordsman worth the name grow pale. And with a dexterous swift move, the crossbow flew across the room as if it was a paper plane.But the clients in the bar didn’t gasp at the legendary Yamato. They gasped at the silvery-white hair adorning Vergil’s head that had been revealed when he inadvertently had lost his hood in this express fight. “It’s the hair of Sparda.” People whispered, amazed. With an expert graceful move, Yamato found his saya again and Vergil walked through the crowd, high-handed and resolved to escape this place and all those bothering eyes he felt upon him.But as he pushed the door of the establishment, he came face to face with the feminine figure he had noticed in the streets this morning. It stopped him in his track and for the first time in his lifetime, but certainly not the last, he looked into her deep green eyes. They reminded him of an old poem he loved greatly, one he had read so many times and would never grow tired of, about a dark forest and a tyger burning bright³. And as he gazed in that girl’s look and witnessed that emerald wood, wild and dense, trying to conceal in vain the fiery fur of a predator, Vergil knew he would never read that poem the same way or imagine Blake’s colours in the shades he would normally imagine them. And so he stared, longer than he wanted, almost the same way she gazed at the pale blue topazes and at the god-like silver hair crowning his head. But while fire is wild, the ice is timid. And thus, admiration only shows through the eyes of the red lady. And when she finally opened her mouth to speak her mind, Vergil escaped into the night leaving lost shadows behind him. But that was fine. Shadows were not the lady’s type after all.It all started on a Holy Thursday, on the first day of a most-welcomed vigorous spring that tinted the cityscape of the Castle Town of Fortuna in luminous shades of gold and blue. But among them there was this vibrant red and two sparkling amber-tinted emeralds reflecting brighter than anything else in a pair of icy eyes, a mirror who strangely wouldn’t mind seeing that reflection again.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: ¹ Marcus: derived from the name of the Roman god of war, Mars to highlight Marcus' status and personality. ² Pomona: From Latin pomus "fruit tree". The word "Pomme" is also the French for "apple", the fruit of temptation. Pomona will come back in other chapters. ³ a tyger burning bright : From William Blake's poem The Tyger

#devil may cry #devil may cry fanfiction #vergil #nero's mother #vergil x nero's mother #vergil fanfiction

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ofwizardsandmen · 3 years

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SILENCE

Gossip Witch AU (HP AU) Characters: Tara Lee (OC), Mark Word count: 1,2k Genre: fluff, a lot of fluff

“Once upon a time Mark enjoyed silence.”

Once upon a time there weren’t many things Mark enjoyed as much as lying down beneath the leafy London plane in the backyard of Fawley Manor —that, Tara recounted, had been there since her great grandfather’s days— to hungrily devour the classics. From Shakespeare to Tolkien, and —occasionally— some of his brother’s comic book recommendations, Mark would spend way too many hours reading piles and piles of books that he would later swap with Tara in a carefully planned dynamic that they had established on Tara’s fourth birthday.

Oftentimes, as part of their childhood exploits, Tara and Mark would also sneak into her family’s immense library to pick one or two books children of their age were not supposed to read. The silence —or lack thereof— was usually an indication of how safe it was to walk into the manor and not get caught by Mr. and Mrs. Fawley —Tara’s very strict and purist grandparents.

During the summer of 2014 Mark also enjoyed the silence that came along with an empty house. Free from his brother’s questionable music choices and the piano notes floating from inside his mother’s music room, —where she would spend hours training a long list of now successful and accomplished musicians; himself included—, Mark and Tara shared their first kisses. At age 13, they were nothing but sweet explorations that left their hearts racing and cheeks tainted pink with shyness and embarrassment.

Half his lifetime ago, Mark really enjoyed silence. But long past were those days.

It’s probably one of those things people outgrow with time.

Or probably Mark has just grown accustomed to the chaos, racket, and turmoil that comes with touring and spending most of his time with another 8 men. It’s probably Doyoung and Taeyong playing cat and mouse during their scheduled morning fights, or maybe Donghyuck’s unmistakable voice calling after Taeil as he chases him around the dorm. Perhaps it is Johnny’s hearty laughter or the pretentious music playing from Jaehyun’s room loudly. Or simply the crowds of fans chanting his name.

Maybe the moments of pleasant quietness are just too scarce to be enjoyed.

Nowadays Mark associates every silent moment with disapproval and uncertainty; trouble and awkwardness.

Mark still recalls with bitterness the silence he encountered on his first public appearance after his relationship reveal. He also thinks of the uncomfortable lack of conversation accompanying arguments he was not even a part of, and of course the one time Tara chose silence over three words that would’ve saved them the unnecessary pain of a breakup. It also comes to mind the silence before Taeyong breaks unwanted news to the group.

Maybe that’s why he’s so wary of it.

Yet It is amid silence that he lets out an exasperated sigh, closing the book he’s been attempting to read with a loud snap.

Unlike his childhood days, there aren’t many books he’s eager to peruse or enough time for Mark to even take pleasure on the activity. Especially not during those rare free days when he can spend time with his girlfriend —fiancée, he doesn’t seem to get used to this new word yet.

But judging by the way Tara stares at her computer while mouthing some words silently, she doesn’t seem worried about spending time with him at all.

Mark has been sighing and making all sorts of noises for what seems to be hours to him, but trying to get Tara’s attention is nearly impossible when she’s this engrossed in her own world —or literary universe, better said—. Mark tries clearing his throat loudly next.

And there’s still no response.

“T” Mark whines as he throws the book mindlessly on the empty spot beside him. Tara doesn’t even blink “Tara!” he slightly raises his voice hoping he’ll finally get a reaction from his girlfriend. Any sign that she is not purposely ignoring him would suffice, even a simple look.

Yet, Tara only groans and without letting her eyes deviate from the screen of the computer, she mutters a curt “What?” that almost feels like a slap across the face.

Though Mark is usually a humble man, he hates to admit —even if it is to himself—, that he’s not used to or enjoys being ignored so blatantly. He could blame fame, but honestly, he’s always been a people’s favorite and as pretentious as it sounds, Mark simply doesn’t walk into a room without getting a fair share of attention.

“You’re ignoring me,!” he complains with a pout that Tara can’t see because she has not moved an inch.

“I am not” she replies simply, her voice barely audible.

“You are” Mark insists, the pout growing more pronounced.

“I am not”

“Tara, please you haven’t talked to me since I got here, is this some sort of punishment because I didn’t tell you I was coming? I just wanted to surprise you” Mark says, his voice so impatient it gives away how frustrated he feels. “Or is this because of that stupid Gossip Witch Spotted? I swear to God I just ran into Mindy casually, I was with Doyoung, they cropped the picture. Please, T, you have to believe-“ Mark adds in such a pleading, hopeless tone that Tara finally snaps out of the self absorption and slowly turns her chair to face her fiancé.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but now you’ve got my attention,” she says with a raised brow and it is evident she is struggling to keep a straight face.

“It was nothing, Doyoung and I went to get coffee, we were paying at the cashier when Mindy walked in. She said hello, I said hello and that was it, no conversation, nothing, just two people bumping into each other randomly” Mark states seriously. “T, we’re engaged, we’re getting married and I would never-“

“I know you would never” Tara interrupts, a shadow of a smile making its way onto her lips. It is the classic Tara smile: warm, knowing, and just a touch mischievous, teasing almost. “I wasn’t ignoring you” she says turning serious and pointing at the screen of her computer “I just finished the last chapter of my book” Tara explains beaming. Mark lets out a long, relieved exhale and allows his eyes to rest on Tara’s face. “I wanted to proofread before sending it to my editor, but you know, I guess as excited as I am, that can wait. I barely slept last night, so I could use some cuddles, some food and maybe my super needy and cute boy- fiancé…“Tara corrects herself “wants to update me about the latest blasts on Gossip Witch” Tara adds the last part smirking. “I didn’t know you were a fan. Oh, no, wait, you’re becoming one of those narcissistic celebrities that search their names on Google and have the notifs on for news about them, now that’s-“

Mark doesn’t let Tara continue because he skillfully picks her up, spinning her around before laying her on the velvet sofa where he was sitting just seconds ago and starts tickling her sides. Tara laughs and screams for him to stop, trying to defend herself with her knees, but Mark continues because there’s nothing he loves as much as to hear Tara laugh genuinely, freely, with nothing holding her back.

It’s the kind of thing he will never outgrow and one of the many reasons silence is not enjoyable anymore.

…

#mark #oc #tara #story #otp

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