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accioxreparo · 4 years

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ink stains

synopsis: soulmate au in which every mark that appears on your body also appears on your soulmate’s body including, as you discover one day, drawings. Needless to say you’re determined to make your soulmate smile, even if you haven’t found them yet.

pairing: George Weasley x ravenclaw!reader

warnings: none

a/n: Hi I’m late to the party but @thoseofgreatambition is doing a soulmate theme night and I’m a ho for soumate au’s so hopefully mine is decent enough lol also I may or may not be writing one for fred too but it’s taking me ages so

tagging: @the-hufflepuff-of-221b

~~~~~~

When you were six years old you woke up one morning to dark stains splattered all over your face and arms. You were confused and quickly grew panicked, absolutely positive that you had contracted Dragon Pox overnight. It had taken an hour for your dad to calm you down enough so he could explain with a small grin that your soulmate must’ve spilled an inkwell on themselves.

“What do you mean?” You had asked with wide, curious eyes.

“Well,” Your dad had reached for the bedside table and picked up a quil. “Everybody has a soulmate, Y/N. One day you start being able to see the marks that appear on your soulmate's body, permanent or temporary. For you, that day happens to be today.” He dipped the quil in a well filled with bright blue ink and handed it to you. “Why don’t you give it a try? Write your soulmate a message.”

“What if they don’t write back?” You had frowned then, suddenly worrying that maybe this mystery person on the other end would want nothing to do with you.

“Well that’s okay,” Your dad had been quick to reassure you. “They might not be able to see the marks yet. But one day they will and I just know they’ll be ecstatic to know you’re here.”

After that day there was a constant stream of doodles all over you. Vines snaking up your ankle. Twisting patterns winding around your fingers. Planets and stars littering your collarbone area. Stripes of random colors all over your palms as you mixed new colors. The most detailed pictures were always on your left arm though, that was where you practiced new drawings.

Occasionally you wrote a message but mostly you drew. Then one day you bought a book about charms to cast on drawings in Flourish and Blotts and you begged your dad every chance you got to cast them for you. After that at least a few pictures were always moving up and down your body.

When you got your very own wand at the age of eleven they were the first spells you practiced. By the end of your first year at Hogwarts you had mastered the whole book. Since then there was always a constant supply of different colored inks in your bag and pockets. The array of multicolored moving pictures that changed every day was your one connection to your soulmate.

They had yet to write back.

It had been ages since you first found your connection to your soulmate. You’d dealt with scars and bruises and occasional scribbled reminders but never once had you ever received even an acknowledgment of anybody seeing your drawings.

You tried not to let it bother you, you really did. But it seemed like every single person around you had known their soulmate for years, in one way or another. Some days the smile you wore wasn’t quite genuine, the longing you felt growing a little deeper at times, but never once did you fail to decorate your limbs with gentle reminders that you were there for your soulmate to find on themselves.

Not until that day. You were set to leave for school the next morning and your father had taken the week off of work to see you off. The two of you, your older brother, and your younger sister were probably too focused on the quidditch match you had going against each other in the backyard of your house. So much so that the bludger hit your way completely blindsided you.

The match ended with panicked shouts, a trip to St. Mungos, and your left arm wrapped tightly in cloth bandages as it rested in a sling while your bones healed.

It was only when you were sitting in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express that the strangest thing happened. Words scrawled in letters that weren’t your own had appeared on your right arm.

Nothing new today?

As you stared at the writing with wide eyes, more words appeared underneath those.

I’m sure this is bending the rules but I had to know. Something’s wrong isn’t it?

Frantically you dumped out the contents of your bag, scattering them all over the floor of the compartment. You dug around the mess you had made until you found a self-inking quil. Just as you were about to write your response you caught sight of the bandages on your arm and gave a defeated sigh.

“Would you like some help?”

You looked up and saw Luna, a friend of yours a couple years below you, watching you with an amused smile. The two of you would always sit up late in the common room together, swapping theories and stories about anything and everything.

“If you don’t mind,” You gave her a sheepish look and she only smiled before moving to sit next to you.

“What would you like me to write?” Luna asked as she took the quil out of your hand. You smiled and told her, watching as she took your arm and wrote out your words for you.

What makes you think something is wrong?

It was seconds later when you received your response.

Not once in the six years since I’ve been able to see your drawings have you let a day pass where you don’t add new ones. What’s wrong?

A smile graced your face and Luna was kind enough to help you continue the conversation happening on your arm.

I’m fine. Just a Quidditch injury. I’ll have the bandages removed by tonight, don’t worry.

Take your time. I don’t want you to hurt longer than you have to, love.

You were sure it was cheating, talking to your soulmate by writing messages on your arm. But if whatever soulmate forces were out there didn’t want you to talk to them then there shouldn’t have been such a simple loophole.

That’s what comforted you late that night, now gently scrawling messy words quickly on your arm that had been broken only the day before. Never before had you been more thankful for Skele-Gro.

Can I ask you something?

The print you wrote with was small on purpose, trying to keep as much room available as possible. It didn’t stop you, however, from doodling new little pictures on the back of your hand.

Go for it.

Why haven’t you ever said anything before? Why now?

You stared at the words you had written for a few moments before sighing and heading to the bathroom that was connected to your room. Only after staring at the words covering both arms now for a minute or two did you start washing away the ink you had put there.

For a minute you thought that you shouldn’t have asked. You stood in silence, watching as the remainder of the ink, the part written in your soulmates handwriting, was slowly washed away leaving only faint ink stains. Then to your relief a response came after it was all gone.

I was worried. And let’s just say I’m not as artistic as you are, my talents lie in other places.

For a second the writing stopped but then more words appeared, quicker than they had before.

Also I may have missed seeing you draw new pictures for me a little too much.

You beamed at the words and walked back to your bed. After the curtains were pulled around it you lit the end of your wand and picked up your quil again.

Do you like them? The pictures.

The response was almost immediate.

I love them.

***

“Miss Y/L/N.”

You jumped in your seat at the sound of a voice calling your name. Slowly you looked up from where you were taking notes on nonverbal spells. Professor Flitwick stood only a few feet away with an exasperated look on his face. Meanwhile both of the Weasley twins sat at their desk looking quite satisfied with whatever they had just done.

You’d been correct to assume they were behind whatever loud noise had been going on only minutes before. The desk the twins were sitting at was now charred and the other Gryffindors surrounding them were chatting excitedly about whatever it was you missed while your nose was buried in your charms book.

Neither Fred or George Weasley missed the fact that you were trying and failing to keep back an amused smile.

“You’ll be getting a new partner to do your project with,” Professor Flitwick lifted his wand and with a single flick a bag and a pile of unused textbooks was flying across the room and into the empty space next to you. “Mr. Weasley.”

Both boys stood at the same time wearing matching smirks and chorused, “Yes, Professor?”

You covered your mouth with your hand to stifle your laugh when Professor Flitwick sighed and shook his head upon realizing that he really should have seen that coming. “Mr. George Weasley. Come meet your new partner.”

Oddly enough said person didn’t look disappointed by the new assignment at all. Instead he grinned as he approached you, sliding into the chair beside you easily.

You could count the number of times you had spoken to George Weasley on one hand. The first time had been during potions when he’d asked to borrow some foxglove for a pompion potion. It wasn’t the potion you’d been assigned to brew but you hadn’t questioned it. The second time he’d walked up to you and your friends after a quidditch match to congratulate Ravenclaw on their victory against Slytherin despite the fact that none of you were on the team. And the third time was only a few weeks before when he asked to borrow a spare quil in transfiguration.

You doubted he remembered any of that though.

“So partner,” George leaned on the desk, head resting on one of his hands as he looked at you. “What do you know about,” He reached over to look at the piece of parchment you’d been taking your notes on. “Nonverbal spells? That’s our topic?”

“It is,” You nodded and reached for your notes, hoping he wouldn’t flip over the parchment to see the drawings you’d absentmindedly doodled during the lecture. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all,” George’s smile turned softer then as he stared at you, a fact which you noticed. You turned away quickly as you felt your face burn, hoping silently that it wasn’t too noticeable. “On the contrary. From what I hear you’ve already mastered a few nonverbal spells yourself Y/N, dearest.”

You froze then, not sure which revelation surprised you more. The fact that apparently you had developed a reputation without you knowing or the fact that George Weasley of all people knew your name.

You tried your hardest to fight the temptation to ask how he knew you and why.

“Class is almost over,” Your words came out rushed and a little too loud to sound natural. It wasn’t a complete lie. In just ten minutes you’d all be dismissed and that was hardly enough time to make even a small dent into your project. “We should meet sometime before our next class to get started if we want to have it done by the due date.”

“You’re so...ravenclaw,” George spoke after a few moments. When you looked at him again he was still giving you that same soft smile, a different sort of glint in his eyes than the one you were used to seeing every now and then.

For a second your thoughts drifted to the words scrawled on your right arm and the pictures on your left. They were covered up by the sleeves of your sweater as they usually were but you could picture the words you and your soulmate had written to each other earlier that day clearly.

“Is that a bad thing?” You found yourself asking, for some strange reason not being able to bring yourself to pull away from George’s gaze.

“No,” He shook his head gently almost immediately. “It’s perfect.”

***

You had to give credit where credit was due. When it came down to it, George Weasley could in fact step up to the plate.

Even now, an early Sunday morning the day after a trip to Hogsmeade, he sat right in front of you.

You knew for a fact he had been up late the previous night causing his usual mischief alongside his brother. One of the Ravenclaw prefects had been patrolling the halls and you overheard him complaining about having to send the twins back to their dorm for the fourth day in a row when he entered the common room.

It had made you smile.

You’d spent at least a couple hours each day alongside George for the past two and a half weeks. Some of that time had indeed been spent on your project but you found it easier to talk to him than you thought it would be. You couldn’t even begin to count the variety of tales he told you just to hear you laugh.

That, however, meant that the two of you had developed a tendency to avoid your work resulting in you being behind. The next day the two of you would have to present in front of the class. You had already gotten away with postponing the presentation twice.

The first time you had told Professor Flitwick that you needed more time to gather as much information as the topic deserved. The second time George had eaten one of the products he had told you he was working on, one he called a nosebleed nougat. It had worked like a charm and the moment you left the classroom with him he ate another candy and it stopped.

It was the only reason the two of you had woken up at that godforsaken hour of the morning on a Sunday. There was simply no other option now.

“I think all of our research is done and I can write up some notes for us to remember during the presentation,” You reached for another roll of parchment from your bag to do just that before dipping your quil in an inkwell filled with bright blue ink. “But we still need to practice some nonverbal spells for the practical demonstration. What do you think we should -”

It wasn’t until you looked away from the pile of books in front of you and at George that you realized he had dozed off. His head was resting on his arms which were crossed on the desk in front of him and he looked almost peaceful for once.

The corner of a piece of parchment was sticking out from under one of his arms and suddenly you couldn’t help yourself. Slowly you leaned forward until you could reach the parchment and you began to sketch a field of flowers on the paper in various ink colors.

You didn’t notice your own smile as you did so.

Then the end of your quil brushed across George’s face and he almost immediately bolted up in his seat. After rubbing the sleep out of his eyes once more he looked over only to find you biting your bottom lip to keep from laughing.

“You look suspicious,” George narrowed his eyes at you playfully when he saw the look on your face, still not noticing the addition to his parchment.

“Do I?” You smiled then as you leaned back in your seat, crossing your arms in front of you.

“You do,” He leaned forward on the desk again and the grin you’d come to see on a regular basis returned. “May I ask why?”

“No reason at all. I’m just excited to learn some nonverbal spells is all,” You laughed as you stood from your seat, squinting a little at the late morning sun shining through the windows. “Speaking of, I’m gonna go search for some books a friend of mine recommended with some spells we could use.”

“Do we not have enough of those here?” George said as he glanced at the pile of no less than seven books, none of which he could remember anything about.

“Those are all on history and theory. We need something on practical application.”

“Right,” George let out a sigh as he reached for one of the unopened books. “You’re lucky I like you. I can’t remember the last time I did this much reading for a project.”

You hummed and then shook your head, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Don’t I feel honored.”

“Just get on with it,” George glanced up from the pages of the book he’d been flipping through and at you again, this time with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Faster we finish with this, the sooner we can sneak into the kitchens for a late breakfast.”

You were quick to agree. George watched as you disappeared behind one of the bookshelves. It was only when he was sure you were gone that he rolled up the sleeve of his sweater and reached for a quil, quickly scribbling a message to his soulmate on his right arm.

When he was done writing the message he caught sight of the flowers that you had drawn on the corner of his parchment and he grinned. Almost absentmindedly he started drawing flowers around your own, albeit a little simpler than the designs you had made. It took a minute for his eyes to widen, quil falling out of his hand, realizing that the flowers you had drawn on the paper he had already seen dozens of times before. In fact, a variation of them sat on his left arm now.

***

Finally four hours later you and George sat in the kitchens which you’d found surprisingly empty. Breakfast and lunch had come and gone and the two of you had gladly accepted a variety of foods from a couple of the house elves.

You were completely oblivious to the way George was studying you closely, trying as hard as he could to see if he was right.

“Puddlemere United,” He said when he caught sight of the patch sewn onto the jacket you were wearing. “I take it you’re a fan?”

“I sort of have to be,” You laughed a little when you saw the confused look flash on George’s face. “My dad is Puddlemere’s captain.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not, promise,” You smiled as you shook your head. Without hesitation you pulled off your jacket, flipping it around so the back was visible, and pointed to a navy blue crest with the Puddlemere United logo and the word ‘captain’ across it in bold, golden letters. “Has been for a few years now and here’s your proof.”

But when you looked at George he wasn’t looking at the jacket at all. Instead he was staring at the variety of words and pictures covering your arms. You could see his eyes darting back and forth and quickly pulled your arm away and under the table.

“Wait,” He reached across the table and took your hand in his, slowly turning your arm around so he could see all every single stroke of ink. You could only watch as he gently traced the designs with his free hand.

The moment was soft, intimate in the purest way. You swore you could hear your own heart thumping louder each second that passed. It reached its peak when George placed your arm on the table in front of the two of you only to pull off the sweater he’d been wearing. It was then that the breath you were holding in left you.

Every single ink stain on your arms was perfectly reflected on his. Now that you looked closer you wondered how you hadn’t recognized his handwriting right away, you’d spent the last few months writing back and forth after all. You’d been so focused on the drawings and the writing that you hadn’t noticed what, or rather who was right in front of you.

“I knew it was you, you know.”

Your laugh was light when you finally dared to look at George once more. He was looking at you with pure and utter adoration and you were positive you wore the same expression. “Did you now?”

“I did,” George grinned as he took your hand again, more confident than he had previously been. “Remember our first year when I asked you for that foxglove? I was supposed to nick it from one of the shelves but you had your sleeves rolled up and I swore I saw the edge of the stars you had drawn earlier that day. I went to get a closer look but they were covered again.”

“And I suppose it was the same thing in transfiguration a month ago?” You shook your head with an amused smile as you thought back to the encounter. It all seemed so obvious now.

“It was. Same thing with the quidditch match a few years ago too,” He leaned forward as if what he were about to tell you were a secret. Suddenly it was like he couldn’t let you go, not that he’d ever want to now that he’d finally found you. “What made me almost certain though was the little drawing you left on my parchment earlier. I knew I’d seen those before.”

“Well I suppose it’s a good thing you’ve kept your eyes open unlike me apparently,” You were beaming as you glanced down at the matching pictures present on both of you. “What do we do now?”

“I’m glad you asked,” George immediately stood, pulling you up with him. He grabbed hold of your jacket still sitting on the table and started pulling you out of the kitchens. “Now that we’ve found each other we’re going to make up for lost time.”

“By doing what exactly?” You asked, eyebrows raised questioningly and a slight smirk on your face.

“Head out of the gutter, love,” George laughed as the two of you walked back up the stairs still hand in hand. He looked down at you with a wild grin on his face. “We’re going on our first date if you’re up for it.”

You agreed instantly and happily followed to wherever it was George would take you, just as you knew you always would from that moment on.

#the ending is eh but i love soulmates #hp fanfic #harry potter imagine #harry potter one shot #george weasley x reader #george weasley #george wealsey imagine #george weasley x y/n #soulmate au #george weasley fanfiction #c: george weasley #my stuff #my fics

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random-mha-thoughts · 4 years

Text

Greedy (Shinsou x Reader)

Pairing: Shinsou x Reader

Genre: Fluff/Comfort, College!AU

Summary: You’re an extremely touch-starved college student, so you ask your friend Shinsou to help you out.

Word count: 2,282

Tags: @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog @bunnythepipsqueak

a/n: I may or may not be projecting on this one...

This took way longer to write and it ended up way longer and shittier than I expected. Not to mention I fell asleep in the middle of writing last night, so I’m sorry this wasn’t up sooner!

I was debating between Shinsou and Todoroki on this one, but I haven’t written for Shinboi in a while, so why not? (If you guys want a Todoroki ver, I’ll write it too!)

I hit 500 followers 2 days ago! Thank you guys again for liking my posts and my content, I really appreciate it! I’ll work hard to give you better stuff in the future!

I said in my milestone post that I would start a new tradition of spotlighting other writers/artists in the community that I follow to spread some love around, so I’m promoting @lovingshoto once again! If you want some floofy headcanons and one shots, go check her out!

Alright, I’m done talking, enjoy lovelies~

My friend blinks at me. He's practically frozen with fear at my proposal.

"Come on, it's not that bad! Why are you looking at me like I asked you to hide a body for me?" I whine.

"It's not that." He puts down the drink he almost choked on. "It's just...very strange."

I'll admit, it's a very unconventional request I asked of Shinsou, but it's very rational, I swear. "I have scientific evidence to persuade you. Science agrees that it helps lower depressive symptoms and stress. And it releases Oxytocin and makes you happier. Which I really think both of us can benefit from."

My friend sighs. "It still sounds really weird."

"And it improves sleep." I give him a pointed look.

For the first time in our conversation, Shinsou finally seems interested. "Alright, I'm listening."

A grin splits my face in two. "We can start at twice a week! That way, it won't interfere with both of our busy schedules too much."

The violet-haired boy crosses his arms over his chest. "What's so great about cuddling anyway?"

My jaw drops to the floor. "Shinsou, are you telling me you've never cuddled anyone before?" When his face turns red in shame, I know his answer. "You poor, touch-starved boy. How about tonight we give it a try, and then you can give me your answer?"

Shinsou levels a gaze at me. I can't read what exactly he's thinking, but I'm hoping I'm pulling him to my side. Spring is start to hit and I'm feeling both the emotional and physical consequences of so-called cuffing season. Long, hot showers, wrapping myself in blankets, and clothing myself in hoodies and fuzzy socks to survive winter aren't cutting it for me anymore. I want to say I'm becoming influenced by the amount of couples I see walking around campus, but it sounds more intelligent for me to say it's a natural instinct of animals.

But I know it's just an emotional thing, I'm lonely and touch-starved myself.

Shinsou rubs the back of his head. "Where and when is this happening?"

The poor, confused boy stands in front of my bed. "What am I supposed to do again?"

Huffing, I pull his arm into me. "Just get in here and hug me. I'll help you."

I don't blame my awkward friend for being hesitant. He's not usually one for invading personal space and he's definitely not the hugging type. Unfortunately for him, I am a hugger and physical touch whore.

"Just lay back like this, arm out." I position him on his back before laying on my side, using his arm as a pillow and wrapping an arm around his torso, almost like hugging a life-sized teddy bear. Feeling his warmth radiating from him, I hum in satisfaction. "Just like that."

Shinsou eyes me, stiff as a board. It's a cute expression, watching his face tinted in rosy blush. "W-What now?"

I shrug. "We just talk. Or we can just stay here silently." But he's still panicked about the whole thing, so I decide it might be easier for him to be distracted by conversation. "How was your bio test yesterday?"

"It was...okay." His gaze darts back and forth between me and some other object in the room. "I think I messed up on one of the answers."

His arm under me hasn't relaxed from his tense state. "Are you having trouble in class in general?"

"Yeah, but the bio department in general is out to get all of us anyway. Something about narrowing down the huge number of pre-med kids."

I nod slowly, but Shinsou still looks completely nervous. "Hey, is this making you too uncomfortable? I don't want to force you to do something you don't like." Maybe I went about this the wrong way.

He finally looks down at me. "No, it's not- Damnit. It's just... I'm not used to it. I don't really know what I'm supposed to do, and I'm not much of a hugger, and I don't think I'm the best person to do this for you."

My heart melts at his candor, guilt eating at me. I get up from my position. "I'm sorry, it was selfish of me. I didn't even think- I guess it's a little pathetic."

Shinsou sits up and hugs me. "It's not pathetic, don't think that way." His large hand strokes the back of my head.

I'm taken back by the sudden gesture. "Look at you, being all touchy-feely now."

"Shut up, you're obviously trying to make this work, I should put in an effort too." The tempo of his head pats slows. "Also, is it...strange that I kind of missed your warmth when you pulled away?"

Something flutters inside me as I smile to myself. "I think I've made you a believer."

"So, how did your presentation go?" Shinsou strokes my hair from behind.

His soft touches coupled with the warmth radiating from his chest on my back is a magic relaxation spell. My eyes are already closed in bliss. "Went great, especially since my group stayed up late the night before to practice like 500 times. I'm just glad it's over."

"You think you did well?"

"Yeah." I feel myself already drifting off from his hypnotic gesture.

His deep chuckle resounds in my ear. "If you were a cat, you'd be purring right now."

I snuggle closer into his chest. "I can't help it, I'm just so tired and you're putting me to sleep."

Shinsou has really warmed up to our twice a week cuddles. We thought it would be best to have a Friday night cuddle to wind down from the week and a Tuesday night cuddle to energize in the middle of the week. If either of us end up being busy one of those days, we said we can either postpone it a day or just wait until the next cuddle day, but nothing has every come up yet. It's settled very nicely into both of our routines.

He seems to enjoy it more than me sometimes, sending me eager texts or showing up early to our cuddle sessions. It's not uncommon for him to end up sleeping until morning as we embrace. It warms my heart knowing he's realized the benefits of cuddling.

"Can you turn around? My arm's about to fall asleep," Shinsou asks, and I lay on my other side, letting him fold that arm near his head and wrap the other around my torso.

Speaking of warmth, I never imagine I would feel a different kind of warmth when I'm near him. It's not the kind that comes just from the sharing of heat. It's the kind that sends tingles or goosebumps through you from just under the surface of your skin, makes you a different type of cozy, the feeling of sweetness without the taste.

Our relationship grew deeper than I think we both expected. Slowly, we've opened up to each other about deeper things we wouldn't have normally talked about. Late into the night, if we were both still awake, we would open up about out innermost thoughts, secrets, and demons.

Most importantly, I'd say it definitely improved my mood overall. Not only did it give me something to look forward to, but I feel happier. Even on nights where Shinsou ends up leaving for his own room, I'm left with an afterglow buzz, sleeping with a smile on my face for the rest of the night. Thinking about it during the day sends another wave of warmth through me. It's as if all my stress melts away when we're in each other's presence, basking in each other's scent and low breathing.

Though, there is something about cuddling Shinsou that makes me want more of him. I don't know if this is a side effect of the warmth, but I understand his eagerness to spend more time interlocked as we do. All I want to do is snuggle closer to him until there's no more space left. The afterglow of the cuddle sessions would easily be replaced with a cold emptiness, leading me to crave his touch during the day. I'm a starving child who's become a greedy glut for nourishment.

Shinsou's scent is stronger now that I'm facing him. I press my arms into his chest, allowing me to lean in closer to his neck, gradually morphing into a ball against him. I don't know how I survived without this before.

This week has been absolute shit. I'm so close to screaming at something, my lungs feel like they're going to burst. A mix of anger, self-loathing, loneliness, and melancholy bubble underneath the surface. I failed a test in one of my major science classes, I have a paper summary due sometime next week, and two written assignments due in two days. On top of all of that, as part of a pairs assignment in one of my classes, none of the "friends" signed up to be my partner. And these are the same "friends" continuing on to graduate school with me. As if that wasn't bad enough, I'd left my umbrella in my dorm and it poured rain today.

Trudging up the stairs of my dorm building, I open my door and slide my bag off my damp shoulders without moving inside. A familiar tickle in my eyes, heaviness in my chest, and overall loss of warmth in my body almost starts overtaking me.

I don't want to be along right now, I think desperately, closing the door and practically sprinting down the hall, up another flight of stairs, and finding another room. I don't care if it's not Tuesday or Friday, I can't be alone right now.

I slam the door open, thankful that he never bothers to lock it. But I turn the bolt closed.

Shinsou jumps up in surprise. He's sitting at his desk, textbooks and laptop open. I would feel bad for intruding at a time like this, but I'm too far into my feelings to care about things like shame or decency.

"What's wrong?" he looks up at me as I rush over.

I don't respond, grabbing his arm and harshly yanking him out of his seat only to throw him onto his bed. His eyes widen as I climb on top of him, one of my knees between his legs. We haven't used this position, but I just don't care. Once I collapse my head onto his chest, he audibly breathes out a sigh of relief and relaxes, settling one of his hands on top of my slightly dampened head and the other on my back. "What happened?"

His warmth and fresh scent that normally calms me right down makes me silently sob into his chest. I don't hold anything back from him; all my feelings ranging from my past mental health to my childhood quarrels with my parents to the existence of time being a curse for not being enough of it in a day burst from my lips messily. I probably sound a mix of drunk and deranged.

Shinsou doesn't say a word, only alternating between stroking my wet hair and patting my back gently, even as I make a mess of his shirt. "It's been a tough week, you deserve to rest before you even try to tackle it. Those people aren't your friends, you don't owe them anything and you shouldn't expect anything from them either. They don't deserve how great a person you are. You're doing great, trust me. You're hardworking, friendly, trustworthy. Anyone would know you're an absolute gem to be with."

His words evoke a shift in me. This warmth is different from the emotional bursts I've felt before. Hearing compliments from him hits differently.

And that's when it hit me. I'm not just greedy for his cuddles, I want Shinsou as a person. As my boyfriend.

My eyes snap open and I lift my head up. I meet his confused stare. "Do you...mean that?"

One of his eyebrows lift up. "Of course. You're amazing, why would I lie about that?"

I feel a slight rush of heat. "Would you... Do you see me... in some other way?"

He blinks once before a tint of pink coats his cheeks. "Well...maybe I do? I didn't want to say anything about it, but since you're asking, I won't hide it from you." The color saturates more. "I like these cuddles and everything, but...sometimes I think I want more of you. It's...we're already doing this whole thing together, it feels like we're already a couple." His arms constrict around me. "Sometimes, I want to hold you like this and call you...k-k-" He coughs, embarrassed of his next word. "Kitty."

My own face gets infinitely hotter as my stomach tumbles at his term of endearment.

"Y-You already nuzzle into me like one!" he adds defensively. "It's not weird, I swear!" I looks cute to see him all flustered like this.

I kiss his nose instinctively and he turns tomato red. "I think it's really cute," I mumble. "You can call me that if you want. I'll be your kitty."

Shinsou seems like he's in a panic, arms frozen as they constrict around me. "Wow... That sounds better than I thought it would," he mutters incredulously.

I chuckle. "You said that out loud, Hitoshi."

One of his large hands cups my jaw and I nuzzle against it. "My precious kitty." It rolls off his tongue so naturally. He presses a kiss on my forehead. "I'll keep you happy with my cuddles."

I smile against his touch. "Aren't you happy I showed you cuddling? Aren't they great?"

"They're the best, especially with you, Kitty."

#Shinsou x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #shinsou hitoshi #college!AU #shinsou fluff #comfort #gender neutral reader #shinsou imagine #shinsou scenario #mha shinsou #bnha shinsou #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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imstillworkingonit · 4 years

Text

CR AU: When Jester was not there to answer the door

I fell into the widojest hole about a month ago (literally reactivated my tumblr to follow the tag) and had some FEELINGS about yesterday’s episode and the potential conversations that could have been had if things had been a little bit different. I’ve never attempted fanfiction before, but here’s the AU oneshot for if Jester hadn’t been there to answer Fjord’s knock. I wrote it directly after the episode through the night, so please excuse any glaring characterization errors or typos. This is just what my brain needed to do. (Also, no hate to the budding romance between our handsome half-orc and adorable tiefling—they’re not my favorite ship but they’re still friggin precious.)

>>>>>>

It was not a sudden realization. Jester’s incessant flirting had waned over the past months, and while her initial words had sounded childish to him, the lack thereof was jarring. Fjord missed it. Then came the little moments, where Jester’s light shone so bright it blinded him, even through closed eyelids. She was, indeed, very charming. Hard not to enjoy her company, really.

So when he saw her, frozen in the middle of those stone statues, his world stopped. What is a world without her smile, her laugh, her brightness? Her constant joy that had helped tear him away from the darkness that was his past?

But she came out of it. Shocked, scared, changed, but alive. And then the fear came. The bitter winds of Eiselcross tore through his winter coat, but his body was too warm. The adrenaline that typically came with a fight kicked in, and he began triaging. Gathering information that had cost too much. All the while, in the back of his mind: “I could have lost you.” and “I have to keep you close.” and “I need to tell you how dear you are to me.” So he began rehearsing.

Words had always come easy to him, but there was too much he wanted to say. “I promised your mother I would protect you.” “I don’t want to see you throwing yourself into danger.” “I want to keep you close and never let go.” How far is too far? It took longer than he expected after dinner and the evening’s events and interrogations to properly finalize what he wanted to say. It was the fear in the pit of his stomach that allowed him to spend only a brief few seconds considering what Jester’s response to his declarations would be. Fear, and perhaps a lack of doubt about her response.

Fjord made his way up to the bedroom floors of the tower, and he knocked on her door. “Jester?”

There was no response. He waited for a breath and a half, face hot, and head down, then knocked again. “Jester, are you in there?”

He waited for another minute or so, resisting the desperate curiosity. Is she in there and just doesn’t want to see him? That wasn’t true, was it? But if not, where could she be?

…

After Jester left the tower’s dining area, she went directly to her bathroom. Without looking in the mirror, she carefully shrugged the layers of her winter clothes off and daintily folded them beside her. One at a time. They felt different on her now, somehow wrong. Once they were all removed, Jester slowly brought her eyes up, and made eye contact with herself in the mirror. Moving slowly, she traced the lines of her face. The difference between one’s early twenties and their late twenties isn’t a lot, especially for blue tieflings with pretty rockin’ genetics. It is, however, a lot to see at once.

Her horns were indeed ¾ of an inch longer than they were. She pulled at her hairline, checking for… yes. There they were. A smattering of shimmering silver hairs interspersed with the blue. Not too many, just a couple on each side, but noticeable to her. Her fingers traced down her face. Some of her remaining baby fat had gone—she finally saw her mama’s cheekbones on her own face, and there was also something in her more defined jawline that reminded her of the Gentleman. There were, in addition to the cheekbones, lines on her face for the first time. The tiniest of crows feet, some smile lines around her mouth. Those… those would take some getting used to.

Her hands moved downward, poking and prodding at the skin of her collarbones and down her arms. Her skin feels different. Less hydrated, less springy. Older. Her breasts were fuller, perhaps her hips were as well, but everything just… off. Unrecognizable, even to an artist’s touch.

Her fingers stopped prodding and started scratching, itchy in a blink. This skin, this body, is not really mine. It belongs to some older woman, who just looks exactly like me.

The panic came not just from the change in her body—it also came from the loss of what she could have done with all that time.

How many pranks won’t be pranked because I lost the years that I was going to do them? What if my brain is different too, and that this new future Jester brain, when it catches up, won’t love painting, and dicks, and pranks? What if the Traveller doesn’t bother with me anymore, decides I’ve changed and I’m not fun enough? I got my statue question answered, but how much am I going to lose? Oh... Traveller. What if the Nein only kept me around for my smile, my sunshine? Will I lose that?

This will pass. This feeling has to pass.

She found herself curled on the bathroom floor, staring into nothing, eyes aching with unshed tears. In half a moment, she was on her feet, groaning with new pains, and grabbing a nightgown and robe. Not her usual, ostentatiously and horrendously pink ones, but a peach-ish set. She stared around at her room, at the winter clothes she’d paid a fortune for, at the corner of the secret Nicodranas painting on the canopy over her bed, and even that felt wrong somehow.

Imposter.

She picked up her sketchbook, but couldn’t find it in herself to open it. What could she say to the Traveller: “Hi Artie, guess what, I just lost five years and I’ll never get them back. I had really great plans for all of my time on the earth and now I’ve lost part of that. I’m still here but I’ve lost part of me. I’m haunted by what the statues gave me and what they took. I can’t get the image of what they showed out of my head, and I’m afraid to show any of my friends anything less than my best new smile because that’s all they need from me.” Yeah, that conversation would go well.

The Traveller wouldn’t understand. No one could. Except… someone who had lost years themselves.

She found herself at Caleb’s door.

…

Caleb couldn’t deny that he appreciated what age had done for Jester’s appearance. She had always been a beautiful woman, but now it was shockingly apparent. He had foolishly blurted that out twice too many times upon the discovery of this change, this loss, as well. But it’s something that she needed reinforced, because gods she’s young—so young—and five years at that age is fifteen for anyone else. Not that he would know, he’d lost that time too.

She seemed fine, though distressed at first, and was back to her cheerful self in short order. The rest of the Nein followed her lead, and all seemed well throughout dinner. Caleb was not keeping a closer eye on Jester throughout dinner, he wasn’t. He couldn’t help but notice that, whenever Jester thought there weren’t any eyes on her, her eyes went dark. Her smile became increasingly hollow as the meal progressed, and she departed quickly. Caleb’s ever-sharp mind immediately reminded him that this was Jester’s facade cracking, just as it had done after the Iron Shepherds. Her steps, as she moved away from the tables, were fragile too, as if she wasn’t sure she could rely on her own feet.

He bid his own goodbyes to the remaining members of the group shortly afterward. He had research to do. For someone as full of life as Jester to lose her youth, her confidence in herself, to be haunted so deeply from the actions taken in the blink of an eye… he knew there had to be a way to reverse it, he just needed to figure out how. Of all the arcane tomes he’d devoured during his early days at the Academy, of all the snippets and scrolls he’d glanced through on the road or in random bookshops, something had to have the answer. He just needed to find it.

In the back of his mind, he was reminded: To show her you love her, but never say it.

“Georg, Cinnamon, Pancake, Rickon, please gather all the compatriots you can, and bring me all research in this tower that may include information on powerful restorative spells accessible to an arcane caster such as, ah, yours truly. Thank you.” The cats nodded in understanding and padded off in search of Caleb’s requested materials.

It was but a few minutes before a parade of amber-colored cats came back through the cat-flaps, each one carrying a tome, a scroll, or a report. Once the cats placed their selections near the small desk in the corner, they disappeared back through the cat-flaps, and Caleb settled down to work. It will be a long night of research, Ermendrud. Buckle in.

Caleb, after no more than twenty one and a half minutes, was broken out of his research reverie by a quiet, brisk knock at the door. “Caleb?” Jester’s voice whispered.

Ah, sheisse. Jester. What could she possibly want from the tower’s resident eccentric and broken old man? What could she possibly want that I have? “Coming.” Caleb quickly closed and stacked the research materials behind him, and opened the door a crack.

She stood in the doorway with doll-like eyes. Glassy and empty. Her body was slouched, nothing like the confident woman from this morning. She didn’t say a word.

“Ah, Jester. What can I do for you?” She shrugged, looking hollowly past Caleb’s shoulder. A smile flashed across her lips, but not for long. It was a cruel and empty smile, a smile found much more commonly on his own face than on hers. Jester’s facade had finally broken.

It wasn’t that long ago that that hollow look had been plastered on his own face. The Nein had not been together that long. Before them, Caleb had been a cruel and empty man. He knew those eyes, and he knew that smile. Because not long ago that he’d woken up in the sanatorium and realized that he’d lost eleven precious years of life, of learning, of youth. Of pain and suffering and truth and forgiveness. Those eleven years of his would not have been good ones, with the ripples of Ikithon’s effect reverberating, but he still ached with that loss. That loss for Jester, who had so much good, so much passion, so much enthusiasm...five of her years were worth fifty of his.

They stood together in the doorway, living their individual losses, for just over three minutes. Caleb, eventually, shook himself. None of that matters, Ermendrud. She’s here because she knows you’ve experienced something similar. She needs a friend that shares this.

He cleared his throat, voice hoarse with disuse or emotion. “Please, Jester, come in. I have...ah...another story for you. Not a children’s tale this time, but I believe it still has a good ending.”

A faint knocking floated up from the floor below, followed by Fjord’s quiet call of “Jester.” Caleb raised his eyebrows at her, locking eyes with her for the first time since her arrival at his door. Meeting her, hollow stare to hollow stare. She shrugged, shook her head, and moved forward into Caleb’s room, taking her seat on the couch. It hadn’t been too many days since he’d read Der Katenprinz to her, but it seemed like eons now.

Jester looked up from the couch, patting the space next to her. “Fjord, you know… he just wouldn’t really understand. I don’t want to explain it to him. I know I don’t really understand either, and I’m really confused about what I saw today, and what’s going to happen now that I’m… like this.” She gestured to her changed face. “But I don’t think I can talk to him about it without it seeming...childish. You know?”

Caleb nodded, and sat down. They stared off in companionable silence for thirty seven seconds, until he began telling Jester his own story. She’s heard most of it before, but not in order and not all at once. He didn’t skip over anything, but he did spend the most time on his time in the sanatorium, and the time that immediately followed. To share with her how it felt for him, to let her know that feeling the loss of that time was normal. Halfway through his story, her hands started shaking. Steeling himself with a breath, he wrapped his long fingers over hers. She was very cold, he could share his warmth.

Jester looked at him, eyes wide, still innocent, but with an incredible intent on deciphering something. “The change is hard and it’s shocking, Jester, and I’m sorry you must deal with it. I know you must feel wrong, uncomfortable in your own skin and unsure about everything around you.” If he was not holding her hands, he would be scratching his arms.

She nodded, and cleared her throat. “That is...yes. That’s part of it, I think? I know it sounds weird, but I think I might be mourning? Like… all I can think about are all of the things that I could have done with that time. And if losing it will change me enough that no one will like me enough to keep me around anymore. What if the Nein and the Traveller get sick of the new, old me?”

Caleb squeezed her fingers. “These are fair concerns. But no, getting sick of you, at the very least, is impossible. I refuse to speak for the rest of the Nein or your god but I swear I could never get sick of you. And if I did speak for them, they would say the same. You’re the group’s smile, Jester, but you’re also its heart. Its soul. You’re an incredibly powerful woman who can play tricks on and kick the asses of incredibly powerful creatures. I would fo-- hmmm.”

“Yes, Caleb?”

“Ah, well… I would follow you anywhere. I trust your judgement. You see the world and everyone in it in a unique light, and it is incredible to behold. I-- we are lucky to have you. It is difficult not to lo-- care for you, no matter who you grow into. And I will strive to ensure your days for the foreseeable future are filled with enough adventure and entertainment to make up for the lost ones. I can enlist the Chaos Crew to assist.” A wry grin appeared at the corner of his mouth, just for a second.

Jester looked down at her hands, completely enveloped by Caleb’s. They’re no longer shaking.

“And that is the short-term. I swear on my spellbook and on your holy symbol that I will do everything in my power to get the time back for you, to restore the years you’ve lost. I have already begun the research.” Caleb gestured back to the stack of pages and books spilling across the desk.

The ghost of a furrowed brow passed across Jester’s face, then something that resembled a smile. “Caleb, as your first act of helping me... will you please make your room look like Hupperdook, like you did while we were eating the other day?”

Three seconds passed as Caleb swallowed the request, then nodded. “Uhhh… ja, of course.” He used major illusion to again replicate Hupperdook’s tavern as closely as possible—with the exception of the fireworks. Some sparks were of pink dicks and green cloaks, some were red books and orange cats. There were some multicolored cats wearing cloaks, or playing with dicks. And there was a single book with a small dick in the corner of the page. The page for the spell “Friends.”

Jester’s eyes lit up the tiniest bit watching the animated illusion, and Caleb couldn’t help but admire how the illusory fireworks sparked and crackled in her eyes. A sudden courage gripped him as he pulled Jester to her feet. “As my second act of assistance, Jester… I would like us to revisit the waltz. So you can enjoy a dance with an individual who does not have two left feet, and who is not more booze than man, and know that you are still just as capable and as erapturing as you were those many months ago.”

A giggle escaped from Jester’s lips, and he could see her again, putting together the pieces and cautiously probing the new shape of the world. Caleb inclined his head to his dance partner, and she pulled his arms into the dance’s starting position. Caleb, with a nod to the tower surrounding them, started the music as the steps began. They danced in companionable silence for precisely eight minutes and twelve seconds, gazing contentedly at the illusion around them and at their dance partner before them. Caleb tried to avoid looking at Jester too closely, but he couldn’t help but notice a darker purple flush high on her cheeks. A trick, perhaps, or a product of the surrounding illusion.

On that thirteenth second of the ninth minute, Jester shifted her hand from cupping his shoulder to looping around his neck, and removed her hand from his, only to wrap it around his waist. Her head now rested plainly on his chest, directly over his fast-beating heart.

“You know, Caleb, you’re pretty okay for being a stinky wizard.”

Caleb froze, but only for a second. His arms moved to hold her in a light embrace, their bodies fitting together like a slightly-fractured puzzle. The dancers just started to sway in place. “Ah, I would like to think so. Okay is good. You know, you will be alright Blueberry.”

With her head to his chest, Caleb could make out her quiet words, and the true smile on her face: “It will take time, I think. And help. But I hope so.” She paused for a moment. “And Cayleb? This is a good ending to your story.”

#widojest #no hate just love right now #congrats to the happy couple and the smitten husband and wife #because i am here for it #i just have some feelings

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asterythm · 4 years

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I'm honestly a bit confused on the problem with making fandom related blm art (as long as its not tagged blm and provides links to supporting blm). Could you please explain?

please realize before you read any of this that i am speaking as an nbpoc person who has been mostly off tumblr for the past few days, with the exception of occasional nighttime reblog sprees after my productivity blocker extension times out. i have been doing my absolute best to educate myself as well as possible so as to be the best ally i can be, but i am nevertheless imperfect and i very well may say something wrong. above all, please keep in mind that the voices that really need to be heard and raised up right now are the voices belonging to our bipoc friends, not my own.

also, i’m real tired -- im not saying this to seek pity or make this conversation about myself, just to ask you to forgive any spelling errors/grammar errors/run-on sentences. thanks. ill also definitely be putting a tl;dr at the end, because I can already tell this post is gonna get longggg.

that said, i appreciate that you’re actively seeking to learn, so i'll do my best to explain what i've gleaned based on what bipoc fanders have been saying. for starters, @/hazelmagix put one major issue very succinctly in her post on the matter (tw for swearing, but this is really the Big One):

in addition to the above Big Issue (ie. needing to bring Real Experiences That Real People Are Facing down to the same level as works of fiction), i believe that one of the specific issues that the tss fandom is facing right now came about after @/bleepblopbloop56 drew a lovely piece of art involving a black, trans roman that originally (to the best of my knowledge) had nothing to do with blm. if you’re a part of the fandom and you’ve been on tumblr at all these past few days, you’ve likely seen the results of that, but i don’t know how many people are aware of the full story right now so just bear with me here:

what happened was that some people outside the fandom (mostly bipoc!!!) came across the piece and voiced their discomfort about it (some kindly, but many not-so-kindly), presumably because they thought that the artist was drawing Real Person Thomas Sanders as black, as opposed to a fictional character who is often portrayed in all manner of diverse interpretations. eventually, it got to the point where the artist felt pressured to take their piece down.

(for clarification, i don’t think it’s ever okay to harass creators to that point, but that’s a whole ‘nother matter entirely. the point is, it was mostly people outside the fandom.)

anyway, the situation ended up sparking outrage after someone else made a post pointing the issue out under the assumption that the attacks had stemmed from racism and transphobia within the fandom (not true). in response, people (predominantly white people, if i’m not mistaken) began to draw art of black trans roman. which would be great on its own, except it didn’t take long for folks to start attaching it to the black lives matter movement. which was less great (see above screenshot). the least great part of all is that so much of it stemmed from spite at the people who had originally been voicing their discomfort about the art -- the same people, mind you, who are not a part of the fandom at all.

not only was this effort misdirected, it was also hurtful because people (again, majorly white) were now using black skin tone and even the blm movement itself as a form of spite. the focus was not on explaining the situation to the original poc outside the fandom -- it was on using art and fandom to appear “woke”, and in the process, ignoring the black voices who were saying they were uncomfortable. and i want to make it explicitly clear that i’m not accusing those who have been drawing bipoc sides of having bad intentions; just that almost all of it has been extremely performative. in using blm for fanart in this way, fanders are taking a real-world issue and turning it into a tool to further our own fandom issue, and that is absolutely not okay. and even when it’s not being utilized for discourse, it can still be extremely insensitive to put real-world struggles side by side with fiction.

my original post about adding resources to fanart was never meant to imply that adding links automatically makes it okay, either. again, i haven’t been on tumblr often and so i had no idea what actual bipoc fanders’ stance on the issue was, and i didn’t want to speak over anyone. what i was trying to say was that if the fandom is going to be so keen on pushing blm, the absolute least that we can do is to actually take the time to educate ourselves on the movement and contribute in other ways as well -- such as signing petitions, donating, et cetera. otherwise, not only is the content performative and potentially hurtful, it’s just plain meaningless.

tl;dr --

black lives matter is not a trend for white and nbpoc people to take advantage of so that they can appear “woke”.

putting fictional fandoms side by side with real life can display an unwillingness to acknowledge the real-world impacts of current events unless presented in a way that specifically appeals to you.

above all, listen to black voices.

(oh, and also: in the interest of raising up bipoc fanders, some wonderful blogs to start with might be @skyscrapersanddandelions, @mxnte, @lamp-calm-sanders, and @aleiimm. however, do not go asking these lovely folks to explain something to you/to provide you further resources. it is not their responsibility to personally educate you. i’m only linking them so that you may support them and -- i really can’t say this enough -- listen to what they have to say.)

#ask me anything #spec speaks #black lives matter #< am i allowed to use that tag even if my post isnt actually sharing resources? bipoc folks PLEASE feel free to correct me anytime #sanders sides #long post #swearing tw #racism tw #kn11t1ngb1mys3lf #discourse tw #ts discourse #< im sorry i seriously never wanted to have to use that tag when i started this blog #but i really cant pretend that everything is fine right now ya feel #on the bright side ive got some older posts queued for tomorrow #to give all yall some room to breathe #i will not stop talking about blm but for me to act like i have to put everything on pause right now would be treating it like a trend #< a trend thats eventually going to end. which its not. black lives will always matter #if ur still reading the tags i love you mwah mwah please take care of yourself mental health breaks are still important

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chilling-in-the-dark · 4 years

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The Batboys Growing Up as Yanderes Part 6/Final: Terry McGinnis

This is a yandere story; it mentions elements of obsession, possessiveness, death, murder, and kidnapping. If any of this is triggering for you, I understand, and you don’t have to read it.

I Can’t believe I finished this, like we’re on the last part of the official series I can’t believe it. That’s not to say there isn’t more coming because I’ve got loads of Ideas. :)

As always, feedback is welcomed.

Terry always knew something was wrong with him. It started when he was small, violently refusing to share his toys, attacking the man who shoulder checked his mother, refusing to acknowledge Matt for a solid week after he was born. Then becoming fiercely protective of him afterward, willing to kill for him, and the rest of the family if it came to it.

Terry met you on his first day back at school after juvie. All of the other kids avoided him, but not you, no, you smiled at him, and suddenly all of the things he’d felt previously twisted up into something darker. Terry wanted to strangle anyone who so much as smiled in your direction. He knew none of this was right, that no sane person thought like he did. Terry pushed it down so deep into himself that even he could almost forget about it, but that feeling was always there like a rash in the back of his mind.

Terry didn’t kill your first boyfriend, no matter how badly he wanted to, but he did leave the boy in a coma when he broke your heart. Terry wondered how he could have someone so perfect and throw it all away for another girl. Once Terry had cleaned up the mess defending your honor entailed, he showed up at your apartment to be your shoulder to cry on. What he wouldn’t give to be the boy you loved, Terry thought as he held you in his arms.

A year later, he was, and that made him the happiest boy on the planet, and a lot of people were jealous of you at school, you had a boyfriend who’d open doors for you, walk you to class, and carry your books like you were in some dopy teen romance movie. Others were grossed out by all of the lovey-dovey nonsense.

Even if everyone at school knew you were his, Terry had to fight back the dark urge to mark you so that the entire world would know, but he couldn’t, so he marked himself instead. It wasn’t hard to find a tattoo parlor in Gotham that was willing to break the law and tattoo a fifteen-year-old boy without parental consent.

The artist initially wasn’t going to do it, but Terry had made it very clear that if he couldn’t get a professional to tattoo him, then he was going to do it himself at home. It wasn’t the first time the artist had heard that, but there was something about the look in Terry’s eyes that told her he wasn’t someone to say no to. That if she did so, there would be consequences, so she agreed. Several hours later, Terry walked out with a depiction of your favorite flower, spelling out your name in bold looping cursive with its stem. The tattoo took up most of his inner forearm.

The artist didn’t ask why the kid’s money literally had blood on it, and the next morning she’d block out the news of a dead Joker found in an alley after he’d robbed an ATM.

His folks had been furious when they found out about his fresh tattoo. The last time he’d seen his parents this angry was when he’d been carted off to juvie. Terry had tried to point out his mother had a tattoo herself, but she’d argued that there was a difference between the little picture on her ankle and the name of a girl who he was probably going to break up within a month taking up nearly his entire forearm.

You wouldn’t be so lucky to have the relationship end that quickly, no your place in his life was going to be just as permanent as his new tattoo, you were going to be Terry’s wife one day whether you liked it or not.

When he’d showed it to you, he wasn’t sure what kind of reaction to expect, but honestly, that was fine because you didn’t know how to react. It was beautiful and sweet, but at the same time, the two of you hadn’t been dating long, wasn’t this a bit much? You made the mistake of brushing back that part of your brain and took it as a sign of his commitment, something that was appreciated after the fiasco of your last boyfriend.

Your dad, on the other hand, hated it with a passion, then again, that could have been because he hated the delinquent his daughter ended up with. Your dad didn’t think Terry was good enough for you. A few days later, your dad’s brake lines mysteriously sprung a leak causing him to die in a horrible car accident. Once more in his life, Terry lost control of himself.

Your mother wasn’t the same after, she was distant and spacey, and she’d find a reason to vanish altogether whenever Terry showed up. She wouldn’t let on about it because she was afraid of meeting the same fate, but she’d seen Terry in the garage the night before the crash, your mom had just thought that the boy was slipping off after coming to see you.

Your mom had her suspicions, but no way to prove them. She hated herself for it, but if Terry really did kill her husband, she blamed you for getting involved with the kid. How many times had they warned you the McGinnis boy was no good, and yet you’d insisted he’d reformed, and that may have cost her husband his life.

You’d grown closer to Terry after your father’s death, he was always there when you needed him, you’d tried to return the favor when Mr. McGinnis died, and at first, Terry had let you, but then he met Bruce Wayne.

After the argument with his dad, Terry had come to pick you up for your date, and everything was normal until you’d started to wait in line, and then suddenly Jokerz swarmed the place, one of them grabbed you as he raced by. Anyone standing near Terry at the time felt as if the grim reaper himself was breathing down their neck.

Once, Terry and Bruce had the Jokers incapacitated Terry stomped on the arm of the Joker, who grabbed you with a cry of “This will teach you to touch my girl.” Bruce knew what Terry was as soon as he heard the bone crack.

Ever since Terry started working for Bruce, he was always so busy, and he’d stopped acting like himself, sure in a lot of ways he was still the boy you’d been dating, the one who would pull out chairs for you and hold doors. Yet there was something you couldn’t put your finger on.

It was a slow change at first, as Terry’s tendencies came to the surface a little more often and stayed a few minutes longer as Bruce assured him what he was feeling was completely normal, and then it was all at once. The last of Terry’s traits triggered when you tried to break up with him.

It’d been a year since Terry had started working for Bruce and the neglect just kept getting worse, at first you’d brushed it off as him trying to balance work and school, but now that the two of you had graduated it didn’t seem to be getting any better.

You’d tried to break up with Terry in person, but he kept braking your dates with thin excuses, you’d had to resort to leaving him a voice mail. “I can’t keep doing this, Terry I love you, but I can’t keep playing second fiddle to Bruce Wayne. What I’m trying to say is I don’t think we should be together anymore.” You’d hung up after that, curling up on your bed and crying. He’d been the love of your life and breaking up with Terry hurt, but you knew staying with him would be worse.

Terry had noticed your message as soon as he’d gotten back from stopping Shriek from killing an entire football stadium of people. When he sat down to listen to it, he couldn’t believe what he’d heard, this had to be some kind of cruel joke right, you wouldn’t really leave. He hadn’t even realized he’d thrown his phone until he’d heard it crack on the ground.

“You know Terry, when Bruce and I were younger, I tried to leave him,” Mrs. Wayne said from the top of the Batcave stairs.

“Really, how did the two of you fix it,” Terry asked, and Mrs. Wayne told him.

The last thing you remembered before waking up in a strange room, with the worst headache of your life, was Terry showing up in your bedroom begging for another chance, and you telling him you’d already given him more chances then you could handle. A look you’d never seen before flashed across Terry’s face, just as he’d lunged at you with a needle.

You stopped breathing for a second when he walked in.

“Sweetheart, I know I’ve been a bad boyfriend, but I can’t live without you, I’ll do better you’ll see,” Terry said after he shut the door behind him.

Tags:

@yanderepeterparker

@idkmanicantenglish

@prettyafghan

Grow up as only

@neon-phosphorecsent

@foggyturtleknightangel

#Yandere DC #yandere dc comics #Yandre batman beyond #Yandere Batfam #Yandere Batboys #Yandere Terry mcginnis #Terry McGinnis #yandere x reader #yandere dc comics x reader #x reader #Yandere Terry McGinnis x reader #reader insert #CITD writes #Part six #finale #The Batboys Growing Up as Yanderes

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 3 years

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If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Seventy One

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

January 10th, 1997

Remy was looking at the test his latest table-mate had given him and he frowned. “What’s so bad about it?” he asked.

“It’s a ninety seven!” she exclaimed.

“Yeah, so? I barely got a seventy two,” Remy said with a shrug. “It’s okay to not get everything perfect, or even close to perfect. All that matters is that you pass.”

“Figures you’d see it that way,” she scoffed. “You don’t care about grades at all. Do you even know where you’re going to college?”

“Don’t know, don’t care, Cindy,” Remy said. “I’m fifteen. I don’t have to care yet.”

She scoffed again and stormed off as the bell rang and Remy rolled his eyes. Another potential friendship avoided. Good. He had been worried he wouldn’t be able to shake this one. And perfectionists rubbed him a very particular wrong way that was not pleasant.

September 5th, 2002

Remy was working in the kitchen when Emile came up from behind him for a hug. “Hey, love,” Emile said.

“Mm, hi, mio amore,” Remy said. “Decided you’re finally ready for lunch?”

“Yeah. I was just doing some drawing earlier to fulfill the art class requirement I’ve been putting off, but the drawings are done for now. I just want to eat,” Emile said with a laugh.

“What were you drawing?” Remy asked.

“You,” Emile said. “Like, it wasn’t realistic figure drawings because I wasn’t looking at you, but I was working in different cartoon styles, and I figured I may as well draw one of the people I know best.”

Remy turned a slight red even as he continued to work. “Do I get to see these drawings eventually?”

“Yeah, if you want,” Emile said. “So long as you don’t tell me that my imitations of my favorite cartoon styles suck.”

“I would never say that,” Remy said. “You’re a pretty good drawer, actually. Maybe not make-a-living-off-it good, but definitely a your-art-shows-lots-of-care good.”

“Really?” Emile asked, and he looked surprised.

Remy paused in his work and faced Emile fully. “Yeah, Emile. You’re really good at art.” Emile frowned, and Remy mirrored the action. “Is there any reason that you wouldn’t think that?” Had he just found one of Emile’s insecurities?

“I mean, I guess not, it’s just...” Emile shrugged. “There’s a lot of things wrong with it. It’s like when I get a question wrong on a test. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t fix it.”

Remy squinted and walked past Emile, to the card table, where his sketchbook was still open. “Emile, your drawings look fine.”

“Fine, sure. But they’re not exactly good,” Emile said, walking over and pointing. “See, the eyes are slightly off compared to the She-Ra style, and in the Looney Tunes style I can’t get the hands and the fingers properly. And these are just the sketches I’m okay with other people seeing.”

Remy stared at Emile, then at the drawings, then Emile. “Emile, I’m not a cartoon expert like you are, but I know enough about art style differences from comics to understand this was just done by a different artist. It’s not wrong, it’s just a slight difference, like what can happen when more than one animator works on a project. The difference is that in animation, the frames go by so fast that it’s usually imperceptible.”

“No, it’s not the same style if it doesn’t look exactly the same. Otherwise it’s just an imitation,” Emile said.

“Okay...correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought you were just going for an imitation,” Remy said.

“I mean, yeah, but I realized how close I was and wanted it to be in the genuine style...and I couldn’t get it,” Emile mumbled the last part, turning away.

“What do you mean, honey? You definitely got it right,” Remy said.

“But I didn’t,” Emile argued.

Remy blinked. “Okay, maybe it’s not perfect, but—”

“—See?! You just said yourself that I didn’t get it!” Emile exclaimed.

Remy paused. Took a breath. Let it out slowly. “That’s not what I said,” he said calmly. Forcing away the irritation at being interrupted and the annoyance that Emile was apparently not listening to him. “I said you didn’t have it perfect. Not having it perfect doesn’t mean you don’t have it.”

“Yes it does!” Emile exclaimed with a huff.

The irritation faded away and was replaced with a blooming bud of concern. “No, it doesn’t, Emile...why would you think that?”

Emile laughed incredulously. “Do you really not know?”

“No,” Remy said. “I really don’t.”

“When I was in kindergarten the first time around, I was ‘the stupid one.’ I know you’ve heard this before, but listen. When it clicked and I finally knew how to read, I went to the top of my class in just about everything. Suddenly, school was impossibly easy. And everything I did was just considered perfect, perfect, perfect. That’s all it could be, that’s all it can be. I’m not allowed to fail. Because if I fail, then I’m just that stupid five-year-old who couldn’t even spell his own name. And suddenly everyone starts questioning me, saying they thought I was smart, I was supposed to understand this, and isn’t it easy? Why am I struggling?! I just need to push through until I understand, but I’m not even allowed to ask for help, because oh, that’s just for the stupid kids, Emile, and you’re not stupid! If something isn’t perfect, then it’s a problem. And I’m not supposed to have any more problems. Not after that.”

Remy didn’t know what to say. “Christ, Emile,” he breathed. “That’s terrible.”

Emile laughed and shook his head. “Not particularly,” he said, even as he was starting to cry. “Just the burden of being the smart kid, I guess. You have to keep up the appearance even if you have no idea what you’re doing. Because otherwise all the teachers see is that dumb kid who couldn’t tell the difference between an ‘o’ and a ‘v.’”

“I thought only your teen years were traumatic, but Christ. That’s just...I don’t have any words. I was never really ‘the smart kid,’ I never had to deal with that, but...wow, so many things make sense now,” Remy said. He shook his head. “Not the point, not the point. Okay. Emile, I’m going to tell you something, and I want you to listen to me when I say it, okay?”

Emile took off his glasses, wiping away his tears, and he nodded. “I’m listening.”

Remy grabbed Emile’s cheeks and brought their foreheads together. “You have my explicit permission to fail.”

“You...what?” Emile asked.

“You have my permission to fail. Okay? If you don’t get everything perfect, you’re not stupid in my eyes. If your graduating GPA is three point nine, I won’t focus on the one class you got a ‘B’ in. I’ll focus on the fact that all your other classes you aced with all ‘A’s! That’s freaking amazing! I would never be able to do that! If you get one thing wrong, if you ‘fail’ in your eyes, that’s okay. No one can be perfect all the time. It’s okay to need help. It’s not just for people who are struggling. This operates on the same principles as therapy. Therapy is not just for people who are drowning in their own emotions, it’s also to teach those people how to swim, or to find a boat. The same is true if you have to ask a professor a question, or enlist the skills of a tutor. You’re not stupid for doing those things, you’re learning more so you don’t make the same mistakes in the future.” Remy kissed Emile. “You’re not stupid, Emile, and you never have been stupid. ‘Stupid’ as a concept is just...well, it’s stupid. It makes no sense. And getting one or two questions wrong on a test doesn’t mean you’re stupid. It means you got all the other questions right, and you get to learn from those mistakes.”

Emile blinked. “What if I get all the questions wrong?” he asked, voice small.

“You’re still not stupid. You just need to stress less and maybe study harder next time. But I doubt that would happen, okay? You’re Emile freaking Thomas, and you can do anything you set your mind to. Don’t sell yourself short,” Remy said, giving Emile a crooked grin at the end.

Emile slowly removed Remy’s hands from his face and stared at the floor. “Honey, I appreciate the sentiment, but...I can’t just stop this. I’ve been doing it for fifteen years.”

“I know you can’t just stop it at will, honey, that’s not what I’m asking of you,” Remy said. “I’m asking you to go a little easier on yourself. You don’t have to be perfect. If you get everything right, more power to you, but beat yourself up a little less if you make a mistake. If you do nothing else, at least remind yourself that you have my permission to fail? That no one will hate you or think that you’re stupid if you mess up?”

“I...” Emile trailed off, actually considering Remy’s words, which Remy counted as a win. “Yeah, okay.”

“Yeah?” Remy asked.

“Yeah, I’ll try,” Emile said, not looking Remy in the eye, but his tone sounded hopeful. “It would be nice to not feel like everything has to be perfect, I think.”

“You’ll either find it incredibly liberating or incredibly terrifying, I think. Possibly both,” Remy said drily.

Emile snorted. “I’m willing to bet you’re right,” he said with a nod. “I’ve never really considered what it would be like to be allowed to fail. Even when we moved out of the college dorms, I didn’t think about the possibility of failing and not managing our money correctly, because failure just wasn’t an option. And I guess it saved us issues with rent and food and the like, but I’m willing to bet it did a number on my mental health too. Just a hunch.”

Remy laughed. “Honey, you’ve worked yourself sick before because you’re so focused on helping friends and going to work and keeping that perfect GPA. I know for a fact that it’s done a number on you not only mentally, but physically.”

“Okay, I see your point,” Emile said with a slightly sheepish smile. “That was me going a little overboard.”

“More than a little,” Remy said with a snort. “That in and of itself was a bit of a failure. Failure to take care of yourself.”

Emile went oddly quiet, before he softly went, “Oh.”

“Oh?” Remy asked.

“I have failed in the past, then,” Emile said. “And you didn’t change how you treated me. I mean, you might have called me stupid for pushing myself too far and getting myself sick, but you didn’t...treat me like I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“That’s because you do know what you’re doing,” Remy said. “Making one or two mistakes, or outright failing doesn’t mean you don’t know anything. It means you might need things explained to you in a different way, or just explained period, but you know way more than most people, Emile. I would argue you’re smarter than most twenty one year olds I’ve met. At least, academically. Street smarts are another story.”

“Look, that was one time I got lost on the way home from McDonald’s!” Emile defended. “That doesn’t mean I don’t have street smarts!”

Remy burst out laughing. “No, that means that you have no sense of direction, and no street smarts.”

“This coming from the guy who purposefully picked a fight with a guy who was buddies with linebackers from the football team,” Emile snorted. “That’s not exactly prime ‘street smarts’ either, mister.”

“Okay, okay, so we’re both dumbasses coming to street smarts! I still know more than you on that front!” Remy exclaimed.

“Oh, you wish!” Emile declared, “I’d bet actual money that I have more street smarts than you.”

“A fool and his money are soon parted,” Remy said with a wicked grin. “But fine. If you’re so certain, let’s get an impartial party to determine this. Next time we see Bernie, we’ll ask him. But be prepared to lose whatever money you’re betting!”

“We have joint bank accounts in all but name anyway,” Emile said with a shrug. “We regularly buy stuff for each other. What difference does it make if that money is in my account or yours?”

“You have a point,” Remy hummed. “Okay. How about we bet food? If you win, we get the stuff to bake cupcakes. If I win, we get the stuff for brownies. And the loser has to help bake the sweets that we’ll be eating for the next two weeks or so.”

“Oh, you are so on!” Emile exclaimed.

Remy grinned. Emile was hopefully going to go a little easier on himself, and Remy was going to get to eat brownies next week! This was great!

#if there's a place i could be #sanders sides fanfiction #remile #emile picani #ts sleep

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years

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09. That’s How Hope Died

My apologies friends and familiars, but I absolutely don’t think that I can continue to do this story as standalone pieces anymore and to add on to the possibly not great news, there’s more chapters of story to be told here. But, those who can stay, I’m glad to have you here. 2721 Words, Trigger Warnings: Mental health issues, abuse, child death, grief

The key to having a successful “challenge” video or a hot “remix” was to have a plan proactively. Grace would have about a dozen different new choreos in mind at any given time, and she worked on beats a lot when she probably should be doing other things. She had various number outfits in mind. She had remix beats in mind and the clips of videos that she might want to add to such remixes. This was her happy getaway. The hours that she put into all of her dance training, her classical music instruments, and her academics made her feel like she earned a few to just create things that she enjoyed. And she had an outpouring of creativity from 14-16.

Whenever a new hot song would come out, she would hear it and wonder how it might sound if she remixed it with the R747 (she named all of her creations with “stock numbers” until they became associated with a released song). She might think to herself, the choreography C929 will be perfect for this! Even her performance outfits, “And if I wear the W23… well… This is gonna be fire!”

So, she might hear, for example, a new song by Ghairrisahn ft Fr8-Tre/in (for the old folks, that’s pronounced Garrison, ft Freight Train… See, Garrison is how it’s pronounced, but she spells it that way to stand out and well, Fr8-Tre/in’s name is Treyvon, they called him Tre growing up and you know, Freight TRE and add the “N,” sound like a play on words?) Her parents absolutely wouldn’t have listened to her explain. The hired help often had to, though, especially if they happened to be around while she was creating or putting together creations for presentation…

She would hear the song, decide and type into her phone’s notes: Shucky Ducky by Ghairrisahn ft Fr8-Tre/in. R747. C929. W23. As soon as she got home, she would check to see if any challenges or remixes of the song were released yet, because the Internet was fast and she was at school all day and sometimes, rehearsals well into the night. If it wasn’t already a thing, or if it was a thing, but the thing was null, she would make the remix of the song with her remix beat, then play it as she wore the outfit she prepped and performed the choreography she created. Then, she would post it, atting the artist, and hashtagging the song, TheApex, ApexChoreo, ApexBeauty,ShesBeautyShesGrace,Gracecore, (song title)remix and challenge, among others.

All of those would always skyrocket. Her favorite artists would always eventually see them, sometimes soon. Ghairrisahn even said that she wanted her to be in one of her videos. (Her mother was attentive to that bit of information when she shared it).

When she called Simon to tell him, he already knew. Of course he did. That dude was always on his computer. He always had hella tabs open. He was working on maybe 4 assignments for school, at least 2 of his stories, keeping up with his favorite fandoms, and checking social media - which he hardly ever got on to talk to people that he knew in real life, but he still was entertained by many of them and usually kept watch of all of her pages, whether or not it dawned on her.

When they were 15, she was invited on a summer tour with Ghairrisahn, to dance. It was a dream come true for her, even though her parents were very reluctant to agree to this. Filming a music video was one thing, but gallivanting across the country all summer was another thing entirely. “Mom, this would be just like if I had gotten the ballet spot in Germany!”

“No it isn’t. THAT was a world renown dance troupe and you BLEW it. THIS is some girl who sounds like she’s singing underwater, never wears a full sized blouse and almost unquestionably engages in recreational smoking.” Simon was typing on his phone. He didn’t get involved.

“She is a Grammy award winning icon! Everybody knows her. You know who knows that dance troupe? Ballet heads. That’s who. Mom, to be successful, in this day in age isn’t just about money and high standing. It is about fame and visibility! AND, if I’m on tour, I have that many places to use my products and promote the brand and bring in revenue to the company!”

Mrs. Monroe sighed, “Alright. That sounds like a good idea. But, I’m sending you with your team. You’re not to be in the same vehicle as that marijuana girl. You’re to only interact with her and her team for business purposes and you will adhere to the schedule that your team provides.”

She clenched her fists and jumped up and down, excitedly. Simon’s eyes looked up from his phone to watch her, but he didn’t react in any other ways until she rushed over and hugged him, “We’re going on the road with Ghairrisahn!” She squealed.

He sighed and wiped a hand down his face, “Grace, I can’t go on the road with you this summer. You know I have like 6 different major things that I need to do this year.” Her face fell. “I wish I could. I love Ghairrisahn. She’s my top five celebrities whose hair I wanna smell…” Grace and her mother both made disgusted and confused faces that he ignored and kept talking, “But I literally have a major engineering program, a science camp to prepare for this upcoming school year, the journalism workshop, orientation for the early college courses path, the Dean’s meet and greet, and I’m heading some things for the scouts that I signed on to before I realized that I’d have to do some of the other things. I can’t go right now. Junior year is the most important year of my high school career. Not to mention, you know that I’m being emancipated next year. I just… I don’t have time to tag along this time, Grace.”

She nodded her head, sadly. “Well, that’s cool. But, I mean, I’ll be able to fly you out to a show or two, right?”

He shrugged, “Send me the tour schedule when you get it, and I’ll let you know.”

“What’s your mom gonna do while you’re doing all of that?” She asked. He frowned and stared at her. She was concerned. He knew that she didn’t mean any harm. But, asking about his mother while her mother was still around was pretty inconsiderate, even for her. She must’ve realized from her face that it wasn’t something he wanted to discuss. Because she fell back and clasped her hands together, “Well, since we’re both still around, let’s go do something in town together. You do have a little free time right now, right?”

“Yeah,” he said defeatedly.

“Yeah,” she imitated and reached out for him with her hand to pull him up off of his favorite cushioned lounging chair. “Mom, we’re going!” Grace called. Her mother had stopped paying attention to them several minutes ago, pretty much whenever the conversation no longer concerned her. She didn’t even hear Grace excuse herself.

“It’s hot! Why do you ALWAYS have on a hoodie?” Grace asked.

“I don’t have one at school.”

“Because they aren’t allowed.”

“Exactly. We’re not at school. Nobody can tell me what I can and can’t wear,” he said.

They were quiet for a moment. She didn’t know what was wrong with him, but she knew that something was. “Hey, do you wanna record ourselves doing skateboard tricks?” She asked.

“Is that your way of asking me to record you doing some skateboard tricks, Grace?”

“You can do yours too!” She laughed.

“I just wanna walk right now,” he said. She bit her lip and danced alongside of him, singing Shucky Ducky. Simon looked over at her and the smile of his features returned. She was good for that. Making him feel better about things that really just didn’t feel good. After a while, some thought, letting it rush around in his head, he said, “She’s going to go live with my grandmother.” Grace stopped dancing and stared at him with wide eyes. “She refuses to go to a hospital. I can’t get dad to come home right now and I just… don’t have the time to care for her. I was gonna be gone in a few months, anyway. Leave it to her, I never did anything to even help her over these years. The story that my grandmother believes is actually quite different from the events that my mind has collected.” Grace rubbed his back, but didn’t say anything. Simon had tears welling up in his eyes. “Do you know how many times she’s taken a swing at me, and I’ve had to restrain her to keep her from connecting? How many times she’s yelled at me, berated me for innocent missteps and mistakes that children simply make? All of the times that I wanted to just put that pillow over her face and not let go until she stopped moving?” He was shaking. “Now, apparently she has bruises all over her that I supposedly put there and my grandmother just believes that I’m capable of it, because I killed my sister, why not try my mom too?” He roared at the sky and covered his face with both hands.

Grace looked around for some place to sit, and just decided on the grass under a tree. She led him over, sat him down and rested on her knees, looking at him, but not knowing what to say. He didn’t really talk much about his sister. What she knew about it was what she had looked up on news sources on the Internet (only to understand more, not to be sneaky or harm him in any way), and she never brought up what she learned, because she knew it would be very painful for him.

According to every source that she had found, the little girl’s death was an accident. She and her brother had been playing, they got into an argument, she ran off, he gave chase, she climbed up a ladder to try to hide in the attic, he pulled her leg and she fell and hit her head. It was an accident. A freak accident. She shouldn’t have been able to die from the fall. There were a few reports that the boy had possibly “thrown her hard” to the floor, but even knowing how angry Simon could get and not actually putting it past him to accidentally get that angry, she rationalized that even still, at 10, he wouldn’t have had the strength to cause reasonable damage to a 4 year old. She wanted to tell him that right now, but he didn’t know that she knew that much about it and it seemed like it might only upset him more to find out that she looked into it.

He was red in the face, hot, breathing hard, and crying, and he didn’t want her near him or looking at him at the moment. But, there she was. Where else would she be?

“Simon, I’m so sorry that your mom… is the way that she is. But, on the bright side, she’s not gonna be your problem anymore. She’ll be your grandmother’s and I mean… that’s her daughter. Who knows what she might have done to contribute to the person that she became…”

He looked up suddenly and stared at her in horror, “Do you think I’ll be like that? Do you think… I mean… I get so angry and I get violent, and I lash out… Do you think I’m like her? Am I gonna treat my family that way? My kid?”

Grace leaned forward to place her hands on Simon’s shoulders and said, “I think that you’re the best person I’m ever going to meet, that is of course until you have kids, because then they’ll be the best people, because you’re not going to make the same mistakes your parents did. I think for what you’ve been given, your anger and violence and lashing out is totally justified. And it isn’t like you just go around beating up the defenseless. I mean, yes, sometimes… we’re a little quick on the draw and maybe hurt somebody that probably didn’t deserve it that much, but there are actual school shooters and like… pedos and stuff out there. A kid who beats on people who deserve it every now and then, destroys some stupid property or whatever is like nothing compared to like… those types.”

“So… I’m not a good person, just not the worst,” he said.

“You’re the best person I KNOW.”

“You know like 3 people.”

“I know plenty of people!”

“Outside of your immediate family and me, name ONE.”

She stammered and he laughed a little. She was grateful for that, even if she was flustered. “The red… um… shirt… Cameron!”

“Cameron… The… guy who works at the Target right outside of the gated community?”

“Yes! See… I know people.” Now, he laughed heartily and threw his head back.

She knew kids at school who gave her presents’ names. She would always thank them and say something nice to them about their presents, whether or not they liked them. It was a trend to give her things and IF someone noticed her using or having the thing later, they had bragging rights, though no matter what anybody gave her, she preferred anything that Simon gave her over all of them. They never understood why, but she did. She knew that their presents came from wanting her to love them. His presents came from already loving her.

“Hey… do you want to go visit her?” She asked.

“Visit who?” he wondered.

“Hope,” she said. He looked startled. He knew that he never told her his sister’s name, but now that he was calm, she was testing the waters to see how he felt about her having at least some portion of knowledge.

He whispered, “I never go there.”

“I won’t try to force you,” she said.

After a moment, he said, “I want to…”

His hands were shaky until Grace took them in hers and smiled up at him, “Then let’s do it. We’ll stop by a shop and get her a nice bouquet.” She let go of one of his hands and pulled the other to follow her. He still didn’t want to say more about his sister, but some part of him wished that the visit would change something inside of him. He didn’t want to think about the word “Hope,” to describe his desires. It felt wrong.

He cried a lot. Grace smoothed her hand across his back and remained quiet. After a long while, and he was seemingly out of tears, she said, “Maybe I should skip the tour. I’ll probably have opportunities like this in the future. I’m pretty hot right now.”

“You always are.” He wanted to tell her not to do that. That she deserved to go on the tour and that she should have fun, but just like when she wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to write about his family to get into the academy, he didn’t have the nerve to openly oppose what was best for him.

What was best for him was that the one person that he could cry in front of was there for all of the summer nights that he was already certain that he would cry from stress alone. But it was up to her, just like it had been up to him to decide that he wanted to be at school with her, even if he was going to have to hurt a little to get there.

The difference was she ultimately decided that it was best that she went. He didn’t like it, but they had been apart before in the past and even if she had been in town, he was going to be constantly busy anyway. Still… he emotionally logged it as a time that she was not there for him when he needed her to be. Was it fair? Maybe not. But… it was simply how he felt about it.

#If They Didn't Get on the Train #AU Infinity Train #Infinity Train #Nesha Fanfiction #Infinity Train Fanfiction #fics

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chaoticneutralwriter · 4 years

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Deleted Scene; Off-Chance Meeting

What if Jimin met....Jimin?

guardian demon!Jimin x reader

genre: fluff, romance, angst, comedy, supernatural

word count: 4.2k

Related works: See masterlist under guardian demon!Jimin

A/n: So this was like....a half developed scene that I was going to put in for Interlude: Second Best buuuuut I didn’t want to make the chapter too long because the main focus was guardian demon!Jimin’s POV from the events in the previous chapter. However! It’s been mentioned as a ‘what-if’ so I completed it as a fun deleted scene. Hope you like it and hope yall are doing okay! take care, be safe and I’ll hopefully see you soon again for another update, this time with story progression LOL

BTW! Thanks for the 1,026 follows!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺💖💖💖💖💖💖

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Jimin’s game plan to blend in is quite simple because it really only consists of one step; grab a staff member so that he can duplicate the lanyard ID they have. Even though he promised to not use his powers to you for the most part, it doesn’t mean he hasn’t found ways to work around it. He easily locks onto a target — a male staff exiting the artist room to step out into the hallway Jimin’s in, presumably on a short break as he strides down to stop by a vending machine. The male staff has his head down, eyes glued to his phone for a while until finally, he takes a quick glance up to view the selection of snacks before ducking his head again, clearly in no rush at all.

Jimin’s lips quirk and he makes quick work at slipping closer, steps light and so undetectable that he may as well be a ghost rather than a demon. At the last minute, Jimin cloaks himself, sneaking up on the unsuspecting male just as he reaches into his back pocket to grab some change. The demon’s touch feels nothing more than a draft, fingers barely caressing the back of the colourful lanyard hanging around his neck but it’s all he needs. The male staff carries on, punching in the numbers and watches as the bag of chips falls into the slot below. Taking it, he walks away, none the wiser.

Jimin pays no mind to him anymore, focused on slipping the thin silver chain necklace out from under his shirt and with a soft blow of his breath, the silver chain morphs into the lanyard, a perfect copy. Normally, he would do without a need for something tangible to cast the illusion but this way, he wouldn’t have to use too much magic to keep it up — a weight to the illusion is more believable than simply thin air.

Satisfied, he lets the cloaking spell disperse, rolling his neck a little at the relief that he can finally walk around more freely without the worry of hiding or arousing suspicions.

“Now… where to go?” He mumbles quietly to himself, eyes darting before deciding that he should scope out the way to the area under the stage. Just as he rounds the corner though—

“Woah!”

Jimin’s fast reflexes has him jerking back in time before he collides into the other body. With a step back, his eyes immediately catch sight of the sparkly jacket and they widen almost simultaneously in realization.

Face to face with him was none other than his own mirror, Park Jimin of BTS, only he has honey blond hair and a glowing complexion.

“Ah, I’m really sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” His eyes are a little wide, stormy grey contacts shining as he apologizes.

For a moment, he’s frozen, stuck rigid in place with shock and split second panic before realizing that he has the safety of his mouth mask and drawn up hood to protect his identity of being the idol’s face stealer. Also the fact that the idol has yet to pass out from shock at seeing his own clone or give any sort of huge reaction was a good indicator.

“A-Ah….” The demon’s voice catches in his throat, and he awkwardly coughs, embarrassed as he ducks his head and mutters gruffly in Korean, “No, it’s my mistake.”

The singer smiles amicably, teeth showing and gaze so warm and so friendly that the demon almost has trouble meeting it.

“Hey now, don’t worry! It’s nothing serious.” There’s a pause, a slight tilt of his honey blond head before those artificial stormy grey irises blink, brows furrowing. The demon starts to actually sweat, eyes refusing to meet as he unconsciously begins to lean back to put space in between. But there’s no escaping the curious gaze of the twenty-four year old singer. “Ah, I— I don’t mean to sound rude or offensive but…. I don’t believe I’ve seen you before?”

Oh shit, shit, shit, shit…

He swears his plan would’ve been completely foolproof if he hadn’t ran into the very person he’s going around parading as. The chances of the demon running into said idol was 1 in 200 and yet it’s as if fate had cursed him with the unwanted luck a fan could only dream of having. But there’s no time to curse heaven and fuck all because his mind begins to race with possibilities of escaping this situation. Maybe he could get away with enthralling the idol for a quick second, trick him into thinking this is all some sort of hallucination from being overworked and then when he’s all good and spaced out, the demon can make his escape. His fingers just about twitches when the singer’s eyes widen and his mouth opens, face alight with an epiphany.

“Are you perhaps new?”

….What?

A beat unknowingly passes between them, with the demon blinking owlishly at the young man, completely gripped in disbelief and the singer staring back expectantly.

 “Am I mistaken…?”

The hesitancy creeping into that question snaps the demon from his stupor and he finally blurts out, “No, I’m new.”

Relief washes over the idol’s handsome face (he’s never gonna get over how fucking trippy this is to watch), shoulders visibly losing some tension and the singer even places a hand over his chest.

“Ah, that would’ve been really bad — I usually am able to recognize everyone on the team.” His eyes creases again from the smile forming on his face. “Why haven’t we met yet, um….?”

“Ju—“ The demon stumbles on his words, thinking at the last second that your impromptu Korean name you had given him when he met Jaehee sounded too similar to the idol’s so his mind jumps to the next one he remembers off the top of his head. “— yeon….Kang Juyeon. This is my first day.”

Jimin the idol makes a noise of understanding, presumably taking his sloppy introduction as nerves in good strides. He inclines his head graciously in an almost small bow that catches the demon off-guard. “It’s nice to officially meet you Juyeon-ssi. I look forward to working with you.”

He bows robotically in return.

“Are you on break right now?” The young singer asks innocently.

“…Yes…” The answer comes out unsure, like he’s testing the waters and seeing where this could possibly lead — hopefully with the idol leaving him be and carrying on back to the artist room, surely much too busy to entertain a seemingly nervous new recruit. To his surprise though, the demon is proven wrong.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I must be taking up your time. Have you gotten anything to drink or eat yet?”

“Well, no but—“

The idol’s mouth gapes open almost immediately, “Would you like to head over to the catering room now? We can grab something.”

The demon is baffled, to say the least; so taken aback by Jimin’s friendly disposition to someone who he only just met that even though he really shouldn’t be overstaying his welcome like this, a part of him would actually feel guilty for turning down the offer. He’s so glad he’s wearing a mask right now because then the idol wouldn’t have to see the borderline crazed smile slowly stretching over the demon’s lips, the disbelief too strong.

But looking at the original owner of the face he wore, seeing it completely reflect a drastically different personality than his own invokes something in him; a morbid curiosity taking hold and stoking the fire to a long buried question —

Who is Park Jimin?

Beyond the worldwide renown Korean idol and a pretty face with killer vocals and dancing, the demon knows very little about who this person is, this person whom you adore so much. What is it that drew you to him specifically amongst the other members. He highly doubts its looks alone (you’re definitely not the shallow type), or maybe even the amount of talent because from what he gathered, all the members were pretty much on par with each other in all departments.

So what made Jimin special?

He really shouldn’t follow this rabbit down the hole, but he’s a demon by nature and impulsivity is practically his middle name. Without another second thought, he agrees with a nod of his head, “Okay.”

Curiosity really should be a sin.

He gets a blinding smile in response, eyes disappearing and pearly teeth on display (he spies the slight crooked front tooth that somehow only seems to add to the singer’s charm rather than a flaw). They walk off towards the room that acts as a communal dining area for the staff and artists themselves, the large selection of hot foods lined up like a buffet self-serve while there are tables available for anyone who wants to sit down for their meal. There’s only a few staff members gathered there, each preoccupied with their phones or simply grabbing a quick bite to eat before rushing back to where they’re needed.

The singer walks in and of the few people that are hanging around, he inclines his head in greeting to them. The demon has no choice but to follow in order to not draw suspicions (even though he gets a few raised eyebrows from wearing a full hood and mask but is ultimately brushed off).

“There’s a lot of choices here so please help yourself. Don’t be shy.” Jimin gestures, grabbing a plate and going for one of the rolls of kimbap. Though the demon has no intention of eating anything — for obvious reasons, he still makes the effort to thoughtlessly pick out random food items to place on his plate for the sake of keeping up the facade. He gets as far as two scoops of sweet and sour pork before the young idol turns to him and his eyes dart to his modest portion.

“Is that all you’re going to eat?”

“Uh…Yes?”

That immediately draws out a noise of disapproval, handsome face pinching along to match the tone. “Ah, Juyeon-ssi; you need to eat to keep up your strength. You can’t hold back on something as important as that.” Before any words of protest can be formed, a kimbap roll is placed on the empty space of the demon’s plate.

And then another.

And then a spring roll.

And then a hefty scoop of black bean noodles and some rice.

It goes on until his plate is adequately full, the idol satisfied as they migrate over to an empty table. The demon takes a seat and he feels his lips quirk as he observes the fact that Jimin’s own plate only consisted of two kimbap rolls and a few pieces of fruit he’s currently nibbling on. The stark contrast and adamancy is already so telling of his character, sans personal dietary considerations.

“Has the job been hard so far?” The singer asks casually.

“Not particularly….”

“Ah, that’s good to hear. Have people been nice to you?”

“Uh…Yeah, I guess.”

He gets a nod of approval, and the demon vaguely likens the feeling of a mother asking their child if their first day of school went well (or if he’s being generous, an older brother). It’s strange experiencing something so familial yet coming from the idol, it all seems so natural as if they’ve known each other for years and not just in the span of less than an hour.

It’s quite the culture shock — something he admittedly doesn’t have a good grasp on and it’s that curiosity to know that has him daringly (or perhaps, no doubt to his colleagues, foolishly) diving deeper. The wooden chopsticks in his hand push around the food on his plate meaninglessly, a gesture meant to disguise the hidden agenda he has; dissecting the idol and seeing what makes him tick.

His lips instinctively quirk under his mask but he makes sure that it doesn’t translate in his gaze as his eyes focus on the idol.

“I’m sure your job is much more tiring.” He says, taking on a tentative tone, implicating for an open ended discussion.

The singer takes a pause, eyes wandering in thought before he sucks in a breath after some serious considerations, “I don’t really think my job is any harder than some of the other staff here…” He stops, as if collecting his thoughts again and then continues, “I think it’s thanks to everyone’s efforts that the members and I are able to do these show successfully and safely. If I were to really break things down…. I really only do a small part.”

“But there’s no point to a show if there’s no performers.”

There’s a hum in reply to his statement but after the idol swallows the strawberry he’s popped into his mouth, he says, “I can see how you would say that, but I think more importantly, there’s no point to a show without the fans.”

The demon doesn’t miss the gentle affection that slips through — that quiet, soft whisper that carries the words near the end, giving way to something much deeper. It’s something he’s seen before, reflected in himself, and it’s whenever his thoughts wander to you.

Fondness.

His chest gives a twinge at the memory, jaw clenching a little as if to physically repress the feelings that begin to stir.

“You don’t even know the fans….” It comes out more as a low murmur to himself, but the contempt underlying his tone seeps through all the same. It’s just…. How could the idol possibly share the same sentiment he has with you, someone who he’s actually spent time with and come to know all the little quirks to — what makes you happy, sad, laugh, the way you laugh, the little noises you make when you eat something you love, see you at your highest and lowest points, with a group of people (not even a single person) who he’s had less than ten seconds worth of interactions?

It’s far too superficial, too scripted and said too many times with no real meaning. He wants to scoff at how impractical it is.

“Maybe so, but it goes beyond that.” The familiar sound of the idol’s lilt halts the demon’s thoughts quite suddenly, still in that soft spoken way but there’s something else with it. A sureness — steady and unwavering, and just the barest hints of….passive-aggressiveness?

That gets a quirk in the eyebrow; so this kitten does have claws after all.

“There are times where I wonder why there are so many people who like us and support us the way they do.” The singer continues seriously, already getting lost in deep thought. “Probably because we work hard, but who doesn’t work hard? Others make good music and do their best too so why us? We try our best to communicate to our fans but everyone does too…..These sorts of things are something I often think about.”

A pause, as if to find the right words, “But whenever I read the fan’s letters or things they post on SNS to us, saying how much we’ve helped them with our songs when they’re going through a hard time, it makes me realize that we’re not so different. We all have flaws and maybe it’s because we’re not perfect that they like us. Starting off with nothing and then little by little, seeing more people coming to support us…. They’re the ones who put us on the stage, so I— We cherish them a lot. They give us energy and comfort us, and we do the same back, like a deep connection, an understanding.”

The young singer stops in pushing around the remaining strawberry on his plate, a ghost of a smile tugging on his lips, like he’s recalling a particularly pleasant memory. “So we want to give back by making good music and showing them our best. Ah, reminds of something really cool Namjoon-hyung said.” He takes the time to tilt his head, “He said how even if it’s just one person he could help, he’ll continue to keep trying. That really touched me, so even if we might not know them personally, they’re the ones who motivate us and makes all of this worth it.”

Once he finishes, the demon is left a little more than bewildered, overwhelmed in fact that all he could do was blink. Granted, it was a lot to take in, never having expected such an arduous confession but what’s even more baffling to him is the conviction the singer had saying all of it, so earnest in his words. Now, he’s no lie detector per se, but as a demon, he does have a more innate ability to pick up on cues and inflections that would give a person away, revealing their true nature. He’s used to it after all.

And then along comes Park Jimin.

This twenty-four some odd year old idol, thrusted into the cut-throat world that is the entertainment industry, young and bright-eyed, armed with nothing but potential, a good work ethic and a dream, yet comes out on the other side, a little bruised and scathed but otherwise, un-jaded; that young and bright-eyed innocence not diminished, instead it matured into something more resilient.

He can probably count on his finger how many people he can actually say that about. Hell, the only closest people that would qualify would be saints, and even that is debatable.

It’s....irritating because he’s faced with the fact that as much as he had wanted to dislike this person, he’s proven that he can’t.

A rush of air leaves his nose and he has to contain a rueful smile. “You’re a very admirable person Park Jimin-ssi. Not that many people keep to their beliefs so strongly like that.”

He gets a bashful giggle in return, light and melodic.

“Aish, what are you saying? I’m not all that impressive….I think I still have a lot to learn.” The singer almost whines from behind the back of his hand covering the open mouth smile he has. Once he calms, it softens. “All I really want is for the fans to remember BTS for our sincerity. I just hope that I’ve been able to help convey that so far.”

The demon lets out a breathy chuckle, finally getting up from his seat. He gazes down at this young man who’s face reflects his own yet wears it in such an entirely different way — glowing with a passion and radiance that is warm, sincere, kind, compassionate and loving.

Perhaps the way it’s meant to be worn.

And it’s with a bittersweet reluctance that the demon places a hand on the singer’s shoulder, giving it a gentle reassuring squeeze. “Keep doing what you’re doing and never lose sight of yourself. As long as you remember what you’re doing this for, the sincerity of your members and you will be conveyed.”

Stormy grey eyes widen a fraction, a little confused as they blink up at him, clearly not expecting such encouragements (honestly, he didn’t expect this either yet here he is).

“Wh— Um, I—…” The idol reaches a hand up to comb through his meticulously styled hair, tousling a few loose strands as slowly, the apples of his cheeks begin to dust in a pink hue and dark eyes can’t help but watch on in amusement. As if sensing the focus shifting to his quickly reddening face however, the young man lets out a sputter and lightly smacks the demon’s forearm, refusing to meet his gaze. “Ahh Juyeon-ssi! What’s with you saying that all of a sudden to me? You sound as if you’re way older than me when we’re probably friends in age!”

Friends…

“What makes you think that?”

“W-Well… I don’t know how to explain it but…. I feel a sense of familiarity with you when we met. Like, a vibe….” The sentence pewters out into a shy mumble, the tips of his ears matching his cheeks now before comically, grey orbs whip up, suddenly concerned. “Unless you’re not….?”

The snort that leaves the demon’s mouth is quickly covered by clearing his throat but he’s sure the restrained mirth still reaches his eyes as he assures, “No, we’re friends.”

He’s met with a brilliant grin, full of teeth and a twinkle in his gaze. “Oh thank goodness. I would’ve died on the spot out of embarrassment.”

He refrains from rolling his eyes if only to dismiss the overly-dramatic relief that overcame the poor young man. But regardless, it’s his cue to go — he's starting to feel a little too perturbed being near someone so good-natured. With a final pat to his shoulder, the demon begins to depart.

“It was nice talking to you Park Jimin-ssi but you’ll have to excuse me, I have to get going now.”

“O-Oh? Is it really that time? If that’s the case— Ya! Kang Juyeon-ssi! Did you even touch your food? You—!”

“Jimin-hyung!”

“Oh?” Jimin’s attention whips to the new voice that called him from the still full plate of food left on the table. His eyes immediately meet doe-eyed ones, usually dark as coal but are currently a more lighter coffee colour, bringing out more of the brown that’s hidden in its depths thanks to the contacts. The youngest member approaches him with long strides, the sequins on his own stage outfit glitter with each step.

“This is where you were? Should’ve told me you were hungry, we could’ve gone to snack together.”

“Ah, no I was just talking with Juyeon-ssi.”

“Juyeon? Who’s that?”

“Kang Juyeon; that person who was just leaving, you must’ve seen him on your way in.”

But that only gets a head tilt from Jungkook, who swivels his head back towards the entrance, “He doesn’t sound familiar and I didn’t see anyone leaving.”

“….Huh?” Equally confused, Jimin swerves around the tall form of Jungkook to get a look however, to his surprise, he doesn’t see anyone. Glancing around lets him know that at most, there was only three other people in the room, excluding him and Jungkook but they were all immersed on the couch in the far corner, away from the entryway. Does Juyeon walk that fast? “Aye, quit messing with me. He had on a face mask, around my height? With his hoodie pulled up; probably the only one here who does too.”

Jungkook shakes his head, genuinely clueless on who Jimin could possibly be referring to. “No, I swear I haven’t seen anyone around like that.”

The furrow in Jimin’s brows deepen, mouth falling open in disbelief. The scrunched up, troubled expression the older member makes was too good to pass up on teasing so Jungkook can’t help but to lean close, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“What? Were you speaking to a ghost this entire time hyung?”

“Aish! Don’t say that! That actually gave me chills!” Jimin scowls, smacking the youngest repeatedly on the arm and causing Jungkook to cackle and skip away from the assault.

“Anyways, Namjoon-hyung wants to go over the script again so I went to go find you.”

“Oh, okay. Let’s go then.”

Brushing down his jacket, Jimin gets up, taking both plates with him, discarding his own empty one while Jungkook gleefully takes the one Juyeon hadn’t touched. The two head out and begin to make their way back to the artist dressing room, with Jungkook talking around mouthfuls of food about what Jimin had apparently missed while he was away but all Jimin could think about was his meeting with Juyeon.

There’s no way he could’ve imagined it all in his head — he’s too young to be going senile. Plus, it felt too real for it to be some overworked hallucination (besides, he doesn’t feel that jet lagged). So there’s a perfectly, logical explanation for it. Yeah, he just…walks really fast.

“Jimin-hyung is here!” Jungkook calls out to the rest of the members. He gets a myriad of boisterous responses and greetings. The sound makes him inadvertently grin.

“Yeah, yeah I’m coming. I didn’t think you would miss me that badly; I was gone for ten minutes.”

Thoughts of his mysterious friend are pushed away for some other time but the wise words he’s been given remain at the forefront of Jimin’s mind. Perhaps the next time he runs into Juyeon, he’ll treat him to a drink or two during the celebratory dinners — get to know him better.

He’s not sure what it is about Juyeon that makes him want to befriend him so intently, like there’s something about him….

Something that’s a little melancholy….and maybe, he dare say, a little lonely.

But to the singer’s dismay, he never really did see him again.

#jimin x reader #jimin fanfic #park jimin fanfic #jimin insert reader #jimin insert fic #bts fanfic #jimin fluff #jimin imagines #park jimin fanfics #park jimin insert reader #jimin x insert reader #bts supernatural au #guardian demon!jimin #jimin scenario #park jimin scenarios #park jimin fluff #park jimin fics #jimin fic

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biborispavlikovsky · 3 years

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tagged by @chamomillles thank u 🥰!!!! (also i just realized i just copied all the questions to a post from the wrong blog oops but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) to answer these questions tag 20 people

i honestly don't know who to tag at all but anyone who wants to do this please do and tag me these are fun to read !!

name/nickname: puff

gender: a big ?

star sign: gemini

height: 5'5

birthday: june 11

fav bands: nothing but thieves, flor, glass animals, secondhand sound

fav solo artists: windmills, ricky montgomery, vlad holiday, kid bloom, isaac dunbar, joji, taemin, and probably a lot more i'm forgetting that i rotate through

song stuck in my head: i dont have one right now because i'm listening to music but for the past week i keep getting that song from tiktok "internet drama pt 1" stuck in my head

last movie: literally no clue maybe maurice ? or i was in the room when my sister watched the new grinch movie a month ago but i didn't really watch

last show: i started rewatching the oa the other night ! and ive been slowly working through hannibal too

when i created this blog: september 2019 ? maybe august ?

last thing i googled: "hamsters eyes bulge" bc my hamster has rlly weird eyes but they've been like that since i got him and he seems happy so im not worried i was just wondering about it lol

other blogs: @panseylizard is my main that i don't use much bc irl people know it lol and im afraid of judgement and afraid of blocking people i actually know

do i get asks: not rlly but i love it when people do send them !

following: too many

followers: i literally have no clue i never check rlly

why i chose this url: bc boris is bi

average hours of sleep: usually 9h unless im going through a not being able to sleep phase then its like 5-7 usually (lol i know 7h as not being able to sleep is a lot but i literally cannot function without consistent 9h its so annoying)

lucky number(s): i dont have any

instruments: i havent played any in FOREVER bc of school and moving but ive played piano my whole life and i played clarinet al the way up until i graduated hs and i also did a bit of violin (which i almost got back into but then it was too expensive >:( ), and v briefly i played cello which i REALLY miss but there's zero teachers in my town and i need to rent one to play which i can't afford

what i’m wearing: fuzzy beigey sweater and leggings

dream trip: honestly anything with my best friend not to be sappy but we have fun together and travel well together, maybe somewhere like new zealand together would be fun

favorite food: this changes constantly but something thats fairly consistent is meat buns which is mennonite and delicious and has a proper german name i can't spell

nationality: canadian

favorite song: this is another thing that changes constantly

top 3 fictional universes i’d like to live in: uhhhhh i have no idea tbh i've never thought about this and nothing is rlly coming to mind

#tagged #this was so fun hehe sorry it took so long to see u tagged me lol

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itsanerdlife · 5 years

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Cruel Boy 9/33

Pairing: Howie Stark x Reader

Warning: Lies. Betrayal. Just a lot of violence. Mentions of Domestic abuse. Parental abuse. Murder Suicide. Death. Guilt. Hate. Deception. Lots and lots of anger.

A/N: This is a bit darker theme, but Howie isn’t dark. Anger problems and bad choices but he’s not a bad person.

Playlist!!

First love. First heart break. Life time of hate. When the silver spoon feeding you love is taken away, you learn to lick it off the knives. Howie Stark broke you. Him and his brother ruined your life. Destroyed your dreams and crushed your soul. Your best friend is dead and your life is a mess. When you take a bartending job, it just happens to be owned by the Bastard Son’s MC. Just your fucking luck. Jokes, you haven’t had luck since Gwen died and Howie ripped out your barely beating heart. There is no way in hell you’re giving him a second chance. Hell will freeze over before you let him touch you again. Not a chance are you ever letting the Stark’s near you again. Hell might have just frozen over.

Tag List Open

Howie shuffles down the hall, rubbing his eyes with one hand. The other holds the side of his head, willing away the throbbing. He drops into a seat at one of the tables, wincing at the bright day light.

“How much did you boys drink?” His dad laughs from the bar.

“I can’t remember getting to bed.” Howie admits, groaning.

“We got to bed?” Peter grumbles from where his face is buried in his arms on the table.

“We carried you.” Luke chuckles, and they both tense up, wincing.

“Oh god, Satan.” Peter whines.

“Lower the volume.” Howie pleads.

“Drink up, you look like death.” Their dad sets two coffee cups on the table.

“Really? I feel like death would be nicer.” Howie grumbles, picking up his cup. He freezes, realizing his words. Peter’s chin rests on his folded arms, staring at his coffee cup. “Sorry.” He swallows.

“It’s okay.” Peter replies softly.

“Do you remember what you were saying last night?” Luke asks, with a wicked grin.

“I’m scared to ask.” Peter groans, picking up his coffee cup.

“Frankie, should we tell them?” Luke laughs, looking over.

Frank is sitting at the end of the bar, his head nods softly, ear buds in. They’re attached to his phone, sitting on the bar.

“Is he listening to the screams of his victims?” Howie wonders.

“Does Frank listen to music?” Peter blinks.

“I can’t ever remember him saying he has a favorite band.” Their dad adds.

“Frankie.” Luke whips a bottle cap at him. Frank deadpans over, slowly. He pulls one headphone out.

“Hmm?” He watches them.

“What are you listening too?” Peter asks.

“Some stuff.” Frank’s face remains the same, expressionless look he always had.

“Was telling the boys, they were on a ramble last night.” Luke smirks.

“Loudly.” Frank nods. But he’s watching Howie, like he’s trying to put something together.

“Frankie, you’re staring at me and I’m starting to fear for my life.” Howie scratches the back of his head, sipping his coffee.

“Just trying to figure things out.” He nods slowly. Picking up his coffee cup.

“Figure what out?” His dad asks.

“How it all connects back to him.” Frank replies, still cryptic.

“What does?” Peter looks around confused.

“Y/N. Her music.” Frank sips from his cup.

“She’s still playing?” Howie gaps.

“You’ve heard her play?” Peter stares.

“Sent me some of her stuff after I heard her playing while working in the apartment.” He shrugs a massive shoulder.

“What?” Peter and Howie both blurt out.

“If you listen to it in a certain pattern it sort of spells things out.” He nods.

“Do share.” His dad grins.

“Not sure that’s a good idea.” Frank admits.

“Didn’t ask if it was Frankie. Just play it.” Peter stares at him.

“You don’t understand the things we’ve been through with her. Just play it.” Howie nods.

“I think I get the idea.” Frank unplugs his headphones.

“What’s that mean?” Howie stares at him.

“If she wants you to hear it. She’ll let you.” Frank glances at him, before he turns his attention to his phone. “Tony, I need one of the guys.” Frank sighs.

“What’s wrong?” His dad looks over.

“Y/N’s shower’s leaking and I’m supposed to do rounds with Clint.” Frank looks up from his phone.

“The boys will handle Y/N, go with Clint.” His dad nods. Frank looks at them, before he nods.

“Finish your coffee, sober up and shower boys.” His dad orders.

Together Peter and Howie start drinking their coffee quickly. Luke tosses a bottle of Aspirin, Peter catches it. Popping the top of it, each shaking out a few into their hand. They’re out of the seats, heading for their rooms.

-----

Before they reach the stairs to Y/N’s apartment, Peter stops him.

“I’ve been thinking about our plan.” He nods. “I don’t think tough love is going to work with her right now How.”

“I’ve been thinking the same since last night.” He nods.

“The way she fell apart. It’s like she hasn’t been loved in a long time.” Peter swallows.

“It’s not the first time we’ve had to take care of her Peter.” He looks at his brother.

“Maybe she just needs someone to not be rough with her right now.” Peter shrugs.

“Can’t hurt to try.” He nods. Together they head up the stairs, at the top they can hear it clear. Her playing as she sings along.

‘Would've traded it all for you, there for you. So tell me how to move on. Would've traded it all for you, cared for you. Now if I keep my eyes closed he looks just like you. But he'll never stay, they never do. Now if I keep my eyes closed he feels just like you.’

“Holy fuck.” Peter nods.

“Alright.” He nods, heading for the door. He knocks twice.

“Come in Frankie!” She calls. He opens the door, stepping, Peter behind him.

“Not Frankie.” She nods slowly, setting the guitar down.

“Frankie is on club business.” Peter explains.

“Right and your dad sent the two of you.” She nods, a small smile on her lips.

“We could have sent Luke, but he probably wouldn’t fit in your shower.” Howie smirks.

“You might have a point there.” She admits. “Come on, I’ll show you.” She stands, leaving the guitar leaning on the couch. Baby follows, tail at a slow wag.

“Hey Pretty Girl.” Peter pets her head.

“So I noticed it last night. But by morning it was leaking a lot more.” She pulls the curtain back.

“That’s a lot worse.” Peter laughs. She slaps a hand over her mouth.

“I said it was worse.” She shakes her head. It’s leaking from the shower head, the connection, as well as the water pipe connector.

“Alright I’ll check the pressure. Try to get the head off it and see if it’s a bad seals.” Peter snorts heading back the way they came.

“Stay.” She tells Baby. She sits in the doorway watching. He steps into the bathtub, he sets the tool bag on the counter next to the shower. Unzipping it, she slips up on the counter, watching.

A good fifteen minutes in, wrenching on the bolt. He keeps looking up to make sure it doesn’t come down on him.

“Do you want some help?” She smirks from where she sat on the sink. He looks from the shower head to her.

“Just make sure it doesn’t drop down on me.” He sighs. Trying to keep from getting knocked in the head, while attempting to get the bolt off.

“I can do that.” She steps into the bathtub behind him.

“I think I almost, got it.” He yanks harder on the wrench.

It was the moment it all went to hell in a hand basket.

-----------

Everything Peaches 9/3/19 @mo320 @courtmr @avxgers @eliza-kat @irepeldirt @jordan-ia @jcc04220

@dumblani @nishanki1 @allyp1023 @joannie95 @rogvewitch @rileyloves5 @sarahp879 @sexyvixen7 @doctoranon @queentoffee

@abschaffer2 @tony-stank3 @tomhardy41 @bookluver01 @drayshadow @teller258316 @nickimarie94 @wandressfox @cutekittybast @amandab-ftw @carostar2020 @thelostallycat @henrietteoaks @nea90sweetie @circusofchaos @bettercallsabs @miraclesoflove @queenkrissy11 @shield-agent78 @elite4cekalyma @sadyoungadult @destiel-artemis @isabelcrichards @iwillbeinmynest @sweet-honey15 @scooby-doodoo @chanelmadrid13 @killerbumblebee @spookygrantaire @geeksareunique @supernatural508 @itzmegaaaaaaan @optimistic-babes @elizabethaellison @rainbowkisses31 @aspiringtranslator @mariekoukie6661 @pure-princess-97 @capsheadquaters @youclickedthislink @futuremrsb-r-main @lovemarvelousfics @notyourtypicalrose @petersunderoos96 @loving-life-my-way @itsy-bitsy-spidergirl @buckystolemyheart @booktvmoviefangirl @thatpeachybandgirl @supernatural-girl97 @thefridgeismybestie @eggingamazinglove @deathofmissjackson @awkwardfangirl2014 @queenoftheunderdark @laneygthememequeen @writingaworldofmyown @death-unbecomes-you @shann-the-artist-moon @supernaturallover2002 @daughterofthenight117 @mcuwillbethedeathofme @verymuchclosetedfangirl @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @ocaptain-mycaptainmorgan @crazy-little-thing-called-buck @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @stupendoussciencenaturepanda @supernatural-strangerthings-1980

Howie 'Damn Boy' Stark: @ml7010 @gabile18 @crayonwriting @callme-barnes @untoasted-ravioli @andycanbeemotional

CB: @coley0823 @csigeoblue @lakamaa12 @tomhardy41 @ms-rogers06 @wolfiemichele @eridanuswave @tireddork-knight @honey-bee-holly @multifandomgirl-us @eggingamazinglove @badassbeckettswan @fandomsstolemylife00 @dreamingofthenightmarexrhea @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety

#Marvel #OFC!Howie Stark x Reader #Avengers #OFC!Howie x Reader #Cruel Boy #Marvel Fanfiction #OFC!Howie Stark Series #Avengers Fanfiction #OFC!Howie Series

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dansiere · 4 years

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FIVE SONGS

list five songs associated with your muse and its meaning to them as a character, or to you as the writer. this can be applied in-character or out-of-character. it can go as deep as looking at the song’s real-world origins or meaning along with the themes it carries to the muses’ story, values, or experiences, or as simple as if your muse would listen to this kind of music, or even if you just listen to these pieces for inspiration.

TAGGED BY: @handspoken, who kinda hates me? Just kidding I love you okay. TAGGING: @rosiqe, @citialiin, @absolutia, @huntershowl, @blossomingbeelzebug, @foxcharmed, @noirtux, @hiskniight, @ndeavor, @kissafist, @ahsterism (muse of your choice!), @carvedbones, @enshijou & @ettards. -- steal it, honestly. It is a great meme.

01. Both Sides Now - Joni Mitchell Moons and Junes and ferries wheels, the dizzy dancing way that you feel as every fairy tale comes real. I've looked at love that way.

I have probably talked about this song so often already but BOY where do I start? I was watching “Love Actually” & Both Sides Now started playing; it’s the scene where Karen (Emma Thompson) almost breaks down & cries while realizing that her relationship is a farce, that she has been foolish & blind & delusional. It continues with her doing her absolute best to calm herself down, to not collapse but function instead; she pretends she is fine, fearing that she might ruin her family’s Christmas party otherwise. It’s a raw, emotional scene unfolding itself while Joni sings about how she came to realize that everything has two sides; the very thing we dream off, aka we imagine / how we wish things are & the harsh reality. No song could ever express Pearl’s delusion with life & love [but also realizing one’s naivity] better than this one; the aspect of pretending that she is fine in order to not ruin her family’s lives with her agony fits excruciatingly well too. -- in fact, the stanza “I have looked at love from both sides now, from give and take & still somehow it’s love’s illusions that I recall. I really don’t know love at all” has been my blog description for months & I won’t change it any time soon. Additionally, this song is about growth & personal change sung with a certain candidness that words can’t really describe -- this song single-handedly inspired me to create this blog, ngl.

02. Dernière Danse - Indila Oh my sweet torment, no point in fighting, you start again. I'm just a worthless being, without [her] I'm troubled. I wander around alone on the subway, a last dance: To forget my great misery. I want to get away, everything to start again.

Number two on my list is a bit of an oddity; it is the song that inspired me to change my URL & bottom header quote. I have always related this song to Pearl basically because it SOUNDS cheerful, has a more upbeat melody & seems positive enough on the outside; however, upon looking at the lyrics & understanding what the artist actually sings about you may or may not get chills. It’s literally a song about losing oneself, misery & the horrid feeling of loneliness after loss all wrapped up in some funky & cheery melody. It seems rather SURREAL at first & upon translating the lyrics you might believe Google is messing with you but... no. The cheery intro fools you, just how Pearl fools everyone in believing that she is a-okay. -- the song grows more & more serious / dramatic with the melody / beat becoming “heavier” over time. While still rather peppy, you can tell that something is wrong the second the background choir kicks in. -- needless to say, I consider the lyrics to be a reference to Pearl’s extreme directionlessness, her lack of purpose, severe lethargy & how she lost herself in her misery.

03. Dark Paradise - Lana Del Rey And there's no remedy for memory your face Is like a melody, it won't leave my head. Your soul is hunting me and telling me That everything is fine, but I wish I was dead.

At first, I wanted to use this meme as an excuse to gush on & on about It’s Over, isn't it? but then I remembered that Dark Paradise is a thing. Lana Del Rey simply had to be on here due to her habit of utterly & completely romanticizing tragic romance & death to an almost unhealthy degree. Pearl is guilty of the same issue. -- glorifying things you should absolutely not glorify. Dark Paradise deals with the loss of true love & the trauma that follows; not being able to move on, not being able to let go, blind devotion, stuck in the same grief, the same melancholy, the same subtle craving for death (through drowning). It’s haunting really, but these are topics that not only fit Pearl aesthetically but also motif wise. The largest part of her season 1 - 3 arc dealt with her grief over losing Rose & her inability to overcome her trauma in that regard. Dark Paradise strikes that nerve & expresses that despair rather accurately.

04. Blinding - Florence and the Machine And I could hear the thunder and see the lightning crack All around the world was waking, I never could go back Cause all the walls of dreaming, they were torn wide open And finally it seemed that the spell was broken.

I wanted to add a song that might describe Pearl’s mentality more; something from Sleeping At Last, Aurora or Sia maybe, but given how I have been gushing about Florence & the Machine lately, I felt like I had to include them because of their extreme Pearl-esque aesthetic alone. Blinding is massive. It shakes you to the core & drags you along, whenever you want it or not. Its heavy percussion & lyrics, the REALIZATION hit you like a truck; I have always associated this song with the moment Pearl realizes who she is. May it be before the war or after "Now We Are Only Falling Apart". It has a revolutionary feeling to it: she wakes up from her Homeworld induced trance & breaks her conditioning, she wakes up from her lethargy & takes a stand for herself. It works either way, really.

05. The Fantasy - 30 Seconds to Mars Do you live, do you die, do you bleed for the fantasy? In your mind, through your eyes, do you see? It's the fantasy Maybe, tonight we can forget about it all: it could be, just, like heaven. I am a machine: no longer living, just a shell of what I dreamed.

I needed a renegade song; something fast & aggressive; this one had the perfect vibe. The Fantasy it is loud, emotional, gritty & chaotic; it’s fast-paced, it’s desperate. It opposes all Past Pearl is supposed to stand for. It builds up, it swells, grows more & more apoplectic over time. -- “Dying for the fantasy” is another big motif on this blog; in fact, her dream / fantasy controls most of her early life to the point where it becomes an obsession. -- this song embodies the very compulsive drive she had, once. Reaching for a Golden Future that eventually turns out to be “just a shell of what she dreamt”; the fairytale that almost cost her her life in the end.

06. Honourable Mentions songs I need to list somewhere or I will burst.

Running Up that Hill - Kate Bush, Eight & Three - Sleeping At Last, Falling Infinite & Strangelove - Black Math, Everything I wanted - Billie Eilish, Send in the Clowns - Barbra Streisand, Bird Set Free - Sia, God is a Woman (cover) & Infections of a Different Kind - Aurora, Love is a Battlefield - Pat Benata, Beautiful Lie - 30 Seconds to Mars, Love Lockdown (Cover) & Pork Soda - Glass Animals, One Match & Romeo - Until the Ribbon Breaks, Over the Love & Hardest of Hearts - Florence & the Machine, Beautiful Crime - Tamer, Truth Is a Beautiful Thing - London Grammar, Diary of Jane - Breaking Benjamin, Do I Wanna Know? - Arctic Monkeys, Far too Young to Die - Panic!At the Disco, Cut the Cord - Shinedown, The War - SYML & Reborn - Talos.

#[[ This took me years istg #I kept changing the songs around like a madwoman because I wanted to pinpoint a specific part of my portrayal?#Does that make sense?#I tried to pick songs I haven't rambled about yet. If I had the time I would fill twenty more meme templates of this kind ngl #hence why I attached the Honourable Mentions section. I just had to. Probably forgot half of my playlist BUT WELL ]]#vii. 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝗽𝗶𝗲𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗮 𝗴𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗲.

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surreal-honeypot · 5 years

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Parkner Week Day Two Title: A Perfect Night Prompt: Prom

Character Tags: Peter Parker, Harley Keener, Michelle Jones, Ned Leeds, Betty Brant, Shuri, Abby Keener, Harley’s little sister, mentioned Tony Stark

Relationship Tags: Peter Parker/Harley Keener, Michelle Jones/Shuri, Ned Leeds/Betty Brant

Additional Tags: Day Two of Parkner Week, Parkner Week 2019, Prom, Getting Together, Not Endgame Compliant, Not Infinity War Compliant, Tony doesn’t sell the tower, Idk why, Fluff, This was meant to be cute but I think I did a bad job

Summary: “You need some help with that?”

Peter looked slightly embarrassed, but he nodded, looking up at Harley through his eyelashes.

Cute.

Harley stepped into Peter’s personal space, suddenly realizing that this was either a really bad idea, or his best idea yet. Upon seeing Peter’s face pink, Harley decided that it was easily his best idea yet. Harley reached up and paused.

“What did you do to this poor tie?”

“Peter. Nothing is going to happen. Homecoming was a fluke! School dances are not out to get you,” Ned tried reasoning.

“See, you say that, but you’re wrong.” MJ raised an unimpressed eyebrow, while Ned, who was standing next to her, crossed his arms with a deadpan look.

“Uhuh. And your reasoning here, Parker?”

“MJ, we all know what happened on homecoming night sophomore year, and then on prom, do you remember what happened?”

“You rushed away to go be Spider-Man.”

“Exactly! And at homecoming this year, what happened?”

Ned sighed.

“You rushed away to go be Spider-Man.” Neds repeated, voice flat. “Man, I still don’t see the problem here. You think school dances are out to get you, but to me it seems like Spider-Man is out to get your social life. Just come out, have fun for a night... Maybe invite Harley?” Ned’s voice turned teasing.

Peter felt his face go red.

“What?! No, I-”

“To me, it seems like you were just trying to get out of homecoming because you don’t want to ask anyone, and Ned and I won’t be around to hold your hand this year.” MJ’s words were blunt, but not malicious. They were also, unfortunately, true.

MJ had asked out Shuri months ago, and upon hearing about prom, Shuri jumped at the chance to go. Peter had the distinct feeling that she would be disappointed, Midtown wasn’t exactly known for their wonderful school dances, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. Ned, was once again, dating Betty. They had a rather consistent on-again off-again relationship. Peter, on the other hand, was as single as a pringle.

This didn’t stop MJ and Ned from teasing him about Harley, however, who had moved in with Mr. Stark nearly a year before and who Peter had been hardcore crushing on ever since. It seemed like the more he got to know the other boy, the more he liked him.

Harley was gorgeous and funny, Harley was super smart while also being adept at socializing, he was chaotic and very capable of wielding his tongue like a weapon, but he could also be so sweet, and Peter was absolutely smitten.

“Even if I thought that Harley would say yes, I can’t. Abby is coming up the same day as prom, and I don’t want to take away from their time together. Based on that alone, Harley would probably say no.”

MJ and Ned exchanged looks.

“We obviously can’t convince you, and maybe you’re right, you know Harley better than we do. But what if you’re wrong? Don’t you want the chance, at least?”

Peter frowned and shrugged a bit helplessly. It didn’t matter whether he did or not, he wouldn’t be selfish and take away from Harley’s time with Abby. They only got to see each other every couple of months or so, even though Peter knew that they texted each other often and video called once a week.

Harley very obviously missed her and his mom, even though he was too stubborn to admit it. He had moved in with Tony for his senior year because the internship would look good on his college applications, and--although Harley had only admitted this to him in the dead of the night, while they were binging bad horror movies and eating junk food--he thought that it would lower the financial burden so his mom didn’t have to work so much.

Knowing all of that, how could Peter ask Harley to homecoming without feeling guilty? It would be putting Harley in a tough spot. He would either say yes, and then feel guilty about ditching Abby, or he would say no and that would make things awkward between them and Harley would probably feel guilty about that too and-

Peter cut off his inner ramblings. All these what if’s were pointless, because he wasn’t going to ask Harley in the first place.

I--II--II--III--II--II--I

Peter had decided that if he was going to skip homecoming, then he might as well do something else fun. It was because of this thought that Peter was currently entering the penthouse to put his stuff down before heading down to Mr. Stark’s lab.

“Hey Pete!” Harley called.

“What’s up? Where’s Abby? I thought she was coming today?”

“Oh. Yeah. That got rescheduled for next week. It turns out her best friend is throwing her birthday party tomorrow, and Abby doesn’t want to miss it. What about you? MJ told me that your homecoming was tonight.”

Peter froze. Of course she did.

“Eh, I was going to be wallflowering the entire night. MJ and Ned both have dates, and I didn’t want to go stag.”

It wasn’t the whole truth, but it certainly wasn’t a lie.

“Why didn’t you ask someone then? You could have asked someone to go with you as a friend, if nothing else.”

Peter stared flatly.

“Harley, I have four and a half friends. Four of which are going together.”

“A half?”

“I’m not super close with Betty.”

“Alright, but that still leaves one more friend.”

Peter stared some more. Was Harley really going to make him spell this out?

“Harley, you’re the last friend.”

“Yeah, and your point is?”

“You were busy.”

“And now I’m not. Do they sell tickets at the door?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Cool, go get dressed. I really doubt Tony’s known you this long and let you get away with not owning a suit. We’ll meet back here in 20. I expect your hair to look presentable.” With that, Harley marched off to his room, leaving Peter behind reeling. What just happened? I--II--II--III--II--II--I Harley’s lips quirked up when he saw Peter come out of his room. His suit was a bit rumpled, and his hair was still a bit messy, even if it was obvious that Peter had tried to tame it. He was fiddling with his tie, and failing at tying it. Harley’s smile widened when he noticed that it was the same shade of red as his.

“You need some help with that?”

Peter looked slightly embarrassed, but he nodded, looking up at Harley through his eyelashes.

Cute.

“What did you do to this poor tie?”

The tie was knotted and tangled, and just slightly too tight around Peter’s neck. That had to be uncomfortable.

Peter’s face was completely red now, a sheepish smile pulling at his lips.

“I only ever had YouTube videos to go off when tying a tie, and to be honest that confused me even more. My aunt probably knows how, its just that it never occurred to her to teach me.”

“Then how did you wear ties in the past? I know I’ve seen you wearing them in photos, and such.”

“They were clip-on. Don’t tell Mr. Stark!”

“Hmmm. I think I just might, After all, he would want to know that his protege doesn’t know how to tie a tie, don’t you think?” Tony would definitely be scandalized. Maybe Harley would put this in his repertoire of black mail.

The knot finally came undone. Harley smiled triumphantly.

“Now, you cross this end over this one, see how this side is thicker? And then you wrap it around like this, pull this end through here, and then you pull.” As Harley pushed the knot up to Peter’s neck, he couldn’t help but feel like one of the little old ladies who always tied their husbands tie in the movies.

Harley looked up at Peter’s face, and abruptly remembered just how close they were standing. He swiftly took a step back, and blinked. Peter looked… disappointed?

Harley cleared his throat.

“Right then. You ready?”

“Ready.”

I--II--II--III--II--II--I

Peter’s prom wasn’t as fancy as Harley was expecting. For a somewhat high class school, the decorations were rather cheesy. Judging by the look on Peter’s face, he thought so too. Most of the decoration consisted of fairy lights, a few blue and yellow colored gobo’s, and swaths of transparent fabric hung artistically. Upon further inspection, there were also a few fake tree’s.

“The decorations are like this every year. Not horrible, but a bit lackluster, and most of the time you can’t even tell what the theme is.”

Before Harley could respond, Ned materialized beside them, with Betty on his arm.

“I thought you weren’t going to come? What happened with Harley’s little sister?”

Harleys eyebrows shot up. There was seemingly no correlation between the two comments unless… Had Peter been going to ask him?

Harley was once again interrupted before he got the chance to speak.

“Yes, what happened with Harley’s little sister?” MJ was smirking, like she knew something that they didn’t. Shuri, who was standing next to her, looked amused, as if she was in on a secret the rest of them weren’t allowed to know.

“Her trip was rescheduled for next week. It was really sudden actually. You’d think she’d be more careful planning her trip around the time of her best friend’s birthday. Actually, come to think of it, didn’t Julie already have her birthday this year?” Harley frowned, slightly confused.

MJ’s smirk widened.

“Well, have fun! Lets go raid the food table,” Shuri directed the last part to MJ.

“Ooh! I love this song! Let’s go dance!” Betty quickly pulled Ned over to the dance floor, leaving Harley and Peter alone together again.

“Did that seem a bit off to you?”

“Yeah, but with MJ, it's better not to question.”

Harley thought that that was a fair assessment, and decided to put the incident out of his mind. For now. For now, Harley would go dance with Peter and drink watered down punch and eat cupcakes that were just a tad too sweet. For now, Harley would listen as the playlist slowly progressed to slower and slower songs. And for now, Harley would get to hold Peter in his arms as they slowly drifted from side to side.

I--II--II--III--II--II--I

“Thank you. For coming with me, that is. It was a lot more fun than I thought it would be.”

Harley resisted the urge to let out a smart ass comment, like isn’t everything fun when I’m involved? and instead just took a step closer. They were back where it all began, in the tower. The night had gone by quickly, and Harley was tired. But not too tired for this.

Harley took another small step, invading Peter’s personal bubble once more.

“Not a problem, darling.” Harley drawled quietly, not wanting to ruin the atmosphere between them. “Your prom may have sucked, but it was fun.”

Peter didn’t respond, instead moving closer to Harley and gently slotting his lips against Harley’s. The kiss was slow, lazy. It was fairly obvious to both that neither one knew quite what they were doing, with Harley having come from a small town in Tennessee and Peter being awkward and well, Peter. Despite that though, it was nice.

A perfect ending to a good night.

I--II--II--III--II--II--I

Harley was sliding into his bed when his phone rang on his bedside table.

“Hello?”

“Hey Harley! How did your date with Peter go?”

“How did you know about that?”

“Did you kiss? I have a bet with MJ.”

“MJ? How do you know MJ?”

“Bye Harley, see you next week!”

“Abby? Don’t you dare hang-”

Click.

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szappan · 5 years

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tag time, thank you!

Hello, I hope you’re all having a nice day. The things I was tagged in have clumped up so I thought I could just do them all now. Thank you to everyone who tagged me!!!

1. Diana @britneyshakespeare (thank you so much!!)

Rules: tag people you’d like to get to know better! (reading this i felt like one of those crying cats, im so honoured seriously thank you)

Top 10 songs I can’t stop listening to: this is actually very well-timed because i can actually name these and also @sastrugie tagged me in a similar one, thank you:

You Ain’t Going Nowhere - Bob Dylan

Atlantis - Donovan

All La Glory - The Band

Moondance - Van Morrison

Šlechtici - Golden Kids

Not Enough - FUR

Leave Her, Johnny - George Sneez

Be Bop A Lula - Gene Vincent

Series Of Dreams - Bob Dylan

Márti Dala - Pásztor Anna & Kiss Tibi

Favorite color(s): all but orange on its own. orange paired with something else is fine. it’s amazing if it’s obnoxious.

Favorite ships: two white cats they’re husband and wife, the coconut lorikeets in denver zoo and merthur

Lipstick or chapstick: neh

Last Movie: my brother and i watched Thor: Ragnarök again last week, I think that was it. I’ve been really trying to watch more movies lately, especially considering how it’s the primary art source of the era (not really but it is kinda.. what)

Currently Reading: Winnie the Pooh

i’ll tag everyone at the end of this, thank you!

2. thank you @smittyjaws and @savoy-brown-shoe for this tag from ages ago!

the point is that i shuffle my music library and list the first ten that come up

A 67-es Út - Republic

Death Of A Clowd - The Kinks (look at this babie)

Feel A Whole Lot Better - Tom Petty

Somebody To Love - Queen

Paintbox - Pink Floyd

Piano Concerto No. 1 - Tchaikovsky

No Time To Think - Bob Dylan

The Diary Of Horace Wimp - ELO

The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down - The Band

Oh! Darling - The Beatles

thank u!

3. thank you @thenesmith for this here very 7 questions tag! i love the format you did this in by the way and also @britneyshakespeare too!!

Relationship status: i’m not in a romantic relationship with anyone

Favourite colour: see above but i also realized that i really like that blue that my corduroy shirt is, it’s like light but strong and muted at the same time

Lipstick or chapstick?: no thank you

Top three ships: yuh

Last song I listened to: I’m listening to Help! by the Beatles, thank you youtube autoplay

Spell out your name with song titles: W - Wonderboy - The Kinks I - I Love My Shirt - Donovan L - Lod’ Do Neznáma - Tublatanka E - Everyday - Buddy Holly S - Summer ‘68- Pink Floyd

4. Thank you, Diana @britneyshakespeare yet again!

15 questions, 15 mutuals

Are you named after someone? I am not.

When was the last time you cried? Two days ago on the way home on the bus because I was thinking of a song that made me cry

Do you have kids? no thankfully

Do you use sarcasm a lot? I try not to

What’s the first thing you notice about people? Well, I guess at first glance I see how they look, but behaviour-vise I tend to notice how aware they are of their surroundings

What’s your eye colour? You know that post telling hazel-eyed people to shut up? Brownish-green. Totally green if the lights are right. Totally brown when the lights are not right etc

Scary movie or happy ending? Both can be good, especially combined

Any special talents? I can bend my left thumb in a way that it looks like my hand is broken

Where were you born? Right in the middle of Budapest in a hospital

What are your hobbies? Reading, drawing whatever i can, i guess music, ruining various pieces of clothing with various techniques, putting whatever spices i see in whatever dish i’m making, being gentle with my cat

Do you have any pets? cat

What sport do you/have you played? I used to swim a lot, even tried synchronized swimming for a year or two, then gymnastics when I was littol, then I took up karate and broke my arm three months in so I quit, I tried ballet too this year but that’s over now and I also did yoga for a few months so yeah these are the official ones

How tall are you? 5′4″? 164 cm?

Favourite subject in school? I don’t dislike any of them. I like English a lot tho

Dream job? shepherd. but a lot of people told me that i have potential to better the world and i want to do that too somehow but also if i could just focus on getting through each day not by making money but by making bread or yes, herding sheep, i would do that too.

thank you!!

5. thank you @thenesmith again! this is to post gifs of my top 5 favourite movies. (currently)

1. Spider-man: Homecoming

2. The Road To El Dorado

3. Labyrinth

4. The Rutles - All You Need Is Cash

5. idk Back to the Future

wuh

6. thank you, @siliconpine!

20 songs tag game

A song you like with a color in the title || Crimson and Clover - Tommy James & The Shondells

A song you like with a number in the title || Fourth Time Around - Bob Dylan

A song that reminds you of summertime || Mary Jane’s Last Dance - Tom Petty (obvi)

A song that reminds you of someone you’d rather forget || i dont think theres a song such as this because i dont like forgetting people

A song that needs to be played LOUD || Birthday - The Beatles

A song that makes you wanna dance || anything pink floyd because i came to the conclusion that you cant dance to pink floyd so i always want to prove myself wrong

A song that makes you happy || Happiness Runs - Donovan

A song that you never get tired of || Ophelia - The Band

A song that you would love played at your wedding || Light A Roman Candle With Me - fun.

A song that is a cover by another artist || Dream A Little Dream Of Me - The Mamas & the Papas

A song that you have sung as a duet at karaoke || none sadly

A song that makes you think about life || It’s Alright Ma (I’m Only Bleeding) - Bob Dylan

A favorite song with a person’s name in the title || Maxine - Traveling Wilburys

A song that you think everybody should listen to || It’s Nice To Be Nice - Pugwash

A song by a band you wish were still together || See My Friends - The Kinks

A song by an artist no longer living || Rock & Roll Suicide - David Bowie

A song that makes you want to fall in love || I Got You Babe - Sonny and Cher

A song that breaks your heart || You’re Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go - Bob Dylan

A song that you remember from your childhood || Egy bogár - Cseh Tamás

A song that reminds you of yourself || Friends To Go - Paul McCartney

thank you so much!

7. again by @siliconpine!! thank you so much

A This or That Tag Game

Honey and lemon or milk and sugar // musicals or plays // lemonade or iced tea // strawberries or raspberries // winter or summer // beaches or forests // diners or cafés // unicorns or dragons // gemstones or crystals // hummingbirds or owls // fireworks or sparklers // brunch or happy hour what // sweet or sour no // Rome or Amsterdam // classic or modern art // sushi or ramen// sun or moon // polka dots or stripes // macaroons or croissants// glitter or matte // Degas or Seurat // aquariums or planetariums // road trip or camping trip not a fan of either // coloring books or watercolor // fairy lights or candles

thank you!! i think this is it!

thank YOU if you got this far in, and I’ll tag @vanillatumbleweedscoffee @stars-in-my-damn-eyes @sneez @fancybasementfestival @kipland00 @dreameramongwildflowers @punkslap @rhapsody-under-pressure and everyone who i tagged before and anyone who wants to to do any of these tags as they see fit and if they’re in the mood or have enought time or are just looking for something to do

#tags #long post #i hope the break works

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dabble-writes · 5 years

Text

The Magician and I- (1)

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Pairing:

Yoongi/Reader

Summary:

Suga is a wish-granting magician. He grants wishes—for the price of your most prized possession.

Your parents and brother died tragically in a plane crash and you visit Suga to grant your wish to bring them back to life...but instead you become his assistant.

Now you’re thrust into a world of magic and the mysterious being known as Suga.

Tags:

Fantasy, romance, comedy, a bit of a slow burn, angst

Warnings:

Mentions of death, strong language

CHAPTER 1: WHO IS SUGA?

You knew instantly you were in a dream.

Strange, you thought, I never have such vivid dreams.

You looked around you and recognized that you were in your home—the home you lived before the accident. It was unchanged, and you were marveled at how your mind remembered every detail.

“Y/N!”

You turned around and was met with the vision of your mother.

“Mom!” You cried as you ran up to her and gave her a tight hug.

She chuckled, “Oh my, what’s gotten you this excited?”

You could barely speak as you sobbed quietly against her shoulder. She felt so soft and warm, like she really was alive and here in your arms. It was so vivid you can even smell her familiar scent, which made you choke.

“There, there.” She rubbed your back, trying to soothe you, “I’m here.”

You reluctantly step away so that you can see her face again, “Mom, are you really here?”

She gave you a warm smile, “Of course, darling.”

“Then I wish I never wake up.” You said honestly and she brought up her hand to stroke your cheek.

“You are so strong, know that I’m always proud of you.”

This made you cry.

“Please don’t cry, honey, I have something I need to tell you.”

You felt the world start to shift around you and you scrambled to grip unto this dream.

“No wait, Mom, tell me!”

Her face became more blurry as her voice seem to be muffled, like your head was underwater.

“Go find the magician, Suga.”

“What?”

“Suga, he will help you.”

You reached out for her but you just grabbed at air, “No! Mom, don’t leave!”

“Go and ask for a wish. He…and you…”

“And what? Mom what are you talking about?” You asked, panicked, but you couldn’t hear her now and everything was spinning.

“MOM!” You cried as your eyes flew open, tears running down your cheeks.

It took a moment for you to orient yourself as you wiped the tears from your eyes.

About three months had passed since the accident, but it was still a fresh wound for you. You look around at the unfamiliar room, so different from the room you were used to for the last twenty years.

It unnerved you to have such a vivid dream, you still could feel her lingering touch where she stroked your cheek.

You then remembered what she said to you and you were puzzled by the message.

Who is Suga?

“Maybe he’s a long lost relative or something.” Your best friend, Hyelin, said and you shook your head.

“I doubt that’s what it is.”

“What did your mom meant that he’s a magician? Like the one-that-pulls-rabbits-from-hats kind of magician? They are all con artists, you know.”, She looked thoughtful as she took a sip from her coffee.

You rubbed your temples, “I don’t know. All I know is that I’ve been having that same dream for a month now and it’s kind of freaky.”

“Do you think it’s a sign? From your mother?”

“Probably not.” You answered, “Maybe my mind is making up things because I miss them so much.”

Hyelin’s smile dropped, “Right, I can’t even imagine what you’re going through. I’m sorry for bringing her up.”

You smile sadly, “It’s fine, you didn’t brought her up, I did by mentioning the stupid dream. I just…it just feels weird…without them…you know? I keep waking up, expecting to smell my mom’s cooking. I keep thinking that I’m going to hear my father’s voice asking to come take our daily walk or that each knock at my door is my annoying brother coming to tease me. There’s just so much I took for granted with them, and in one moment it’s all…gone.”

There was a pause and you realize you made the conversation awkward.

“I’m sorry, Hyelin, this was supposed to be a fun meeting to cheer me up and here I am, bringing the mood down.”

“It’s fine, y/n, you don’t have to appear strong all the time.”

“Thanks, Hyelin.” You smiled and squeezed her hand, “I don’t know how I would have gotten through these months without you.”

“What kind of friend will I be if I didn’t? Now enough with the somber mood, you’re right, today was supposed to cheer you up. As your good friend it is my obligation to distract you at least for a little bit.”

You laughed, “Yeah, it’s just this dream. It just puts me in a strange mood.”

“What you need is closure.” Hyelin said and took out her laptop, “Your mind will probably not let it go until you find out the truth.”

“The truth about what?”

“Is Suga a real person? Is he or she really a magician? And finally, can they really grant your wish?”

“Hyelin, you can’t possibility think that the dreams were message that held some truth in it?”

Deep inside though, you wished it was true because then you could make the wish that can make your life right again.

“Listen, y/n,” Hyelin said as she typed on her laptop, “there’s only one way to find out: by googling his name.”

You rolled your eyes, “It can’t be that easy.”

“Never underestimate google.” Hyelin said solemnly, “Now how do you think it’s spelled?”

You gave her an incredulous look, “How am I supposed to know?”

“Fine we will go with S-U-G-A. ‘Suga…magician’.” She typed as she said those two words.

You huffed, “You’re probably going to get a sugar daddy magician or something like that.”

Hyelin laughed, “Don’t be a hater, y/n—oh wait, this looks promising!”

Curious, you peered over her shoulder and snorted.

“Wow this website is so obviously old.”

“Stop it,” Hyelin chastised, “look, it says ‘Have a wish that needs to be granted? Visit Suga, the wish-granting magician.”

“Hyelin, this is written in comic sans, how much can you trust this website? This interfacing and graphics are making my eyes bleed.”

“Ok, but how much of coincidence is this? You get a dream for a month about a magician called Suga that grants wishes and he actually exists.”

“Uh, correction: he claims to be a magician that can magically grant wishes. Do you not see anything shady about this?”

You just couldn’t believe your friend was actually believing this bullshit website. Not to mention you are kind of peeved that the website doesn’t seem to have been updated since 2001.

“Oh my god, this gets even better.” Hyelin said, obviously not listening to you, “the address they give here is right here in Seoul! Y/N, this is obviously destiny.”

“Let me see.” Sure enough, not only the address was in Seoul, it was like a 10 minute walk from your apartment. “Wow, that’s freaky.”

“Or…fate. You have to at least check it out, y/n.”

You sighed, knowing Hyelin is persistent and won’t let this go. Plus, you were just a tiny bit curious and wanted to check this Suga out.

“Fine, I’ll go on my way home. Do you want to join me?”

“Of course!” Hyelin said excitedly, “How often do you get to meet a magician who can grant wishes?”

You decided not to not break her bubble and looked back at the screen so you can take note of the address properly. You then noticed fine print in the bottom of the screen and squinted.

“ ‘The price for a wish is your most prized possession, so be warned’—what the heck?”

“Where does it say that?”

“There”, You pointed at the screen and she squinted.

“Wow, your eyesight is good, I probably wouldn’t have caught that. It also doesn’t help that it’s yellow text on a white background…”

“Hyelin, do not realize what that means? My prized possession?That is some serious bullshit.”

“Okay, but what is it?”

“What?”

“Your prized possession?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “I don’t know, I used to be so sure…but I lost it.”

“Wha—oh.” Her face fell, “Well it’s not like you’re going to make a wish anyway, right?”

Right, you were just going to check out if Suga is legit or not and why your mom sent you to him in a dream.

“Right.” You said, but were not so convinced.

“Plus I thought you thought it was bogus anyway.” Hyelin teased you and you laughed.

“Okay, okay, I get it. Let’s go and check this Suga out.”

Why does his name have to be so ridiculous?, you thought, it’s probably not even his real name.

“Alright lemme just pack up my laptop.”

You nodded as you finished your iced coffee. Hyelin’s phone dinged and she looked at her phone.

“Oh my god, I forgot!” She exclaimed as she started to text furiously.

“What happened?”

“My dad is back from his business trip today! We are supposed to meet him in the airport in half an hour.” She looked at you and bit her lip, conflicted.

“Hyelin, it’s fine—go to your father. I know how much you miss him.”

“But—“

“I’ll be fine going on my own, I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Thank you so much, y/n! I’ll see you tomorrow then” We hugged goodbye as she ran out of the café.

You’re a little disappointed that you’re going by yourself, since this Suga guy could be a creep.

Thankfully your parents made you take martial arts classes as a child, so you know that if things take a turn for the worst you’re able to defend yourself pretty well. Not to mention that you developed fast reflects because of Jin, your brother; he loved sneak attacks and claimed he was “training you”. For what, you never knew.

You reached the building where Suga’s business supposedly resided and was surprised that it looked like a very nice office building instead of some mystic hole-in-the-wall shop with mood lighting.

Maybe it’s an outdated address, you thought, that website was old after all. Maybe some company bought the building, knocked it down, and erected this fancy building instead. You were about to leave when the doorman called to you.

“Hello miss, do you need anything?”

You blushed, knowing you looked very out of place, “Oh um, I was trying to find someone by the name of Suga but I think I got the wrong address—“

“We get that a lot, don’t worry. He should make it more clear. He’s on the 5th floor.”

You blinked, “Wait, this is the right address? Someone by the name of Suga has an office here?”

The doorman chuckled, “I hope you find what you’re looking for, miss.”

You gathered your thoughts together and gave him a smile, “Thank you so much for your help.”

As you walked to the elevator, you admired the prestige condition of the lobby. The floors looked recently polished, it looked so shiny you were afraid to make a mark on it. This was honestly the opposite of what you were expecting and was very nervous.

Who the heck is Suga? Is he making so much money scamming people that he can afford to have an office space in this building?

You entered the elevator and pushed the floor, trying to get yourself together. The door opened to a hallway with only one door. You walked up to the door and saw the sign “Suga, Magician. Monday to Saturday 4-10 PM”.

What unusual hours, you thought and checked the time, I should be fine since it’s 4:10 PM.

You didn’t know what to expect when you open the door, but it sure wasn’t a classy waiting room. Everything was so shiny, you were almost blinded by the opulence of it all. You went up to the window, but saw no one behind the counter.

Strange, you thought. You then noticed a bell in front of you and a sign that says, ‘Ring Once For Assistance’ in fancy script.

You rang it once and waited a moment. Nothing happened. You rang it a few more times and wondered if whoever was supposed to answer it heard it. You were about to ring it again when the door flew open, making you jump.

“What part of ‘ring once’ do you not understand?” The man in front of you said in a gruff voice, giving you a dark look.

The man was handsome, probably the most handsome man you’ve seen besides your brother. His glare didn’t mar his delicate features, his skin so beautiful and pale. His hair was a unique shade of mint that surprisingly suited him very well. He wore a slick business suit that obviously came from an expensive brand.

“If you’re finished with checking me out can you tell me what you want?”, He asked with a bored tone, making you blush.

Unlike your brother, who was always joking by how attractive he looks (he even called himself “worldwide handsome”), this man just said it in a matter-of-fact way.

“Are you Suga?”

He gave you an unamused look, “Yes, are you here to wish for something?”

You hesitated, how crazy would it be if you told him your dead mother told you in a dream to visit him? Your mom said to make a wish so maybe you should just make a wish…

“Um…”

“Follow me.” Suga simply said and walked back into the room he came from. He didn’t wait up for you and went into an office. The office has a whole wall that was just windows and showed the beautiful skyline of Seoul. You stared at it in awe as he just sat down on a seat and regarded you.

“Sit down.”

You nodded and awkwardly sat down to the nearest chair, fiddling with your hands nervously as he just studied you.

“Tell me your wish, I don’t have all day.”

Suga looked so different than your stereotypical fortune-teller or shaman. For one, he looked like a business man and didn’t speak in flowery language. He was curt to the point of it being rude. He also looks like he couldn’t care less with what you had to say, his face barely showing any emotion. His voice was gruff, like he just woke up from a nap. Still, there was a certain aura about him that makes him…not ordinary.

“You can grant me anything at all?”

“Yup, just know that the price is your most prized possession.”

Fuck it, you thought, what harm can it do to tell him what you want most?

“Can you bring back my dead parents and brother?”

There was a silence and then he replied, “I don’t know what you heard before you came here but I can’t grant wishes that mess with existence, that’s more God’s area and I don’t want to get into that mess.”

You look at him in disbelief and anger, the anger mostly at yourself for letting yourself believe him. You had a tiny spark of hope that your family can be brought back to you and it just fizzled out in smoke.

You forced yourself to not to cry, “How convenient.”

“Is there anything else instead?”

You snorted, everything else seems trivial, “What, so that you can say that you can’t do it? I can’t believe I stooped so low to ask some sham for a wish like a fucking five-year old.”

You stood up and saw that he still had that expressionless face; you hated that face and wanted to get some reaction out of him. You saw a vase next to you and pushed it, making it fall with a crash. He didn’t even flinch which made you even angrier.

“Fuck you, you’re just a fake magician, I’m outta of my mind to visit such a place.” You started to leave as you mutter, “Forget it, I hated the idea of giving up my prized possession anyway, bye.”

But you found that you couldn’t move a single step, as if you were frozen to the ground. You panicked.

“What the—“

“Wait.”

Suga lazily got up and walked up to you as you continued to struggle to move your legs. “Coming here was your decision, but I decide when you get to leave.”

“You’re doing this! Let me go, you creep!”

“I’m sorry I can’t do that, seeing how I’m a ‘fake magician’.” He smirked at you as he threw your words back at your face and you were not amused at all.

“Let me go now, if you don’t I’ll—“

“You’ll do what?” He asked, “You don’t seem to understand your situation at all. Once someone has seen my face, they have to make a wish or…”

“Or what?” You asked and he took a step closer to you.

“Or you die.”

You started to panic. Oh my god, I can’t die. He looks like he would kill me too, he’s not bullshitting. Why did my mom send me to this psycho? Oh my god I’m gonna die—

The world started to spin and before your world turned black you just saw that jerk’s emotionless face.

You woke up saw that you were on the cold floor. You remembered what happened and realized that you fainted. You looked up and saw Suga sitting again. You tried to get up but of course you couldn’t move a muscle.

Asshole.

“Let me get up.”, you said with gritted teeth.

“Will you be civilized and not break things again?”

You looked at where you dropped the vase but saw that it was repaired without a single scratch in its original place.

“Fine.” You muttered and you were able to get off the floor. You glared at him and took a seat.

“Let’s make a deal.” Suga said and you narrowed your eyes at him, suspicious.

“What do you mean by a ‘deal’?”

Do I have to sell my soul to him or something now? Just my luck.

“Since you don’t wanna make a wish or die, give me your body.”

“W-what?” You gasped out as you crossed your arms over chest defensively, “W-what do you mean by that?”

Just what kind of sick fuck is he? I shouldn’t have listened to some stupid dream—

He smirked as he stood up and walked towards you, “What I mean—“

“—d-don’t come any closer!” You exclaimed but he simply walked passed you and opened the door.

“—is that my assistant suddenly got pregnant and resigned. You are going to be working for me starting today.”

It took a moment to process what he said.

“Wait, what? Says who?”, You walked up to him and put your hands in your hips.

“Your service ends when you make your wish.” He looked at you, “Unless you have a wish in mind—besides the one you already said, of course.”

The bastard, he knew that was the only wish you really wanted. Nothing else is worth giving up your most prized possession. Plus, you’ve seen too many movies where wishes can go horrible wrong.

“I-I—“

“Well then, it’s settled.”

“Wait! I can’t work here! I’m a busy student, I have classes—“

“Just think of it as a part-time job, I don’t work mornings anyway.”

“No—!”

Suga turned to you and grabbed your chin, “You don’t think I’ll kill you?”

You looked into his cold eyes and knew he was serious. You bit your lip and tried not to cry, “Ok, fine.”

Suga let go of your chin, “Just sit behind the desk for now and greet whoever comes in—you can manage that, right?”

You grit your teeth, “Yes.”

You were cursing him out in your head as you went to sit behind the reception desk. It’s honestly your rotten luck that you know have to work under him of all people. You looked around your desk and sighed, there wasn’t even a computer! Then again, if the state of his website is any indication he’s totally technology inept. You were organizing the highlighters by color when a door opened and a smartly-dressed older man walked in. You straightened up and put on your customer service smile as he walked up to you.

“Hello, how may I help you?”

He didn’t smile at you or greet you, “Is this the magician Suga’s office?”

You forced yourself to keep the smile as you remember that asshole, “Yes it is.”

“Is he available?”

“Let me check his schedule,” you said sweetly and looked at the planner in front of you that you knew was empty, “He is available. I’ll let you in then.”

You opened the door for him and led him to the office.

Those brand of clothes are expensive, he must be rich, you thought, I wonder what he came to wish for.

Suga was sitting behind his desk when you entered the room. He greeted the man with a handshake and you gave him a dirty look behind the man’s back, which Suga ignored.

“Do you want tea?” Suga asked the man and he said yes. Suga then turned to you, “Prepare some tea for this gentleman.”

You looked at him in shock but Suga gave you a pointed look and you gave him a gritted smile, “Sure! Tea coming right up, sir.”

It wasn’t until you left the office did you realize that he gave no indication how you were supposed to make the tea. Bastard.

You wondered through the hallway and found a kitchen. Does he live here or something? And started to go through the cabinets to find tea. Eventually you found that there was some tea that was already brewed and still hot, so you put a cup and the kettle on a tray and walked back to the office. I’m not going to serve any for that trickster.

You opened the door to find that they were in a middle of a conversation, so you were careful to be quiet.

“…wish for?”

The man spoke up, “Because of my own experiences with poverty, I’ve always been obsessed with making money, no matter the means. This was all for my only son, whom I never wanted to experience what I had to go through.”

You set the cup in front of the man and started to pour the tea, he paid you no mind. You saw that there was a photo of an attractive young guy on the table and figured that this must be the son he was talking about.

“For the sake of his future, I also went through the trouble to set him up with an acceptable match. But…without any consideration for me he went ahead and started to date a poor, unhealthy girl.”

You started to walk away, but when you mentioned that you paused. This doesn’t sound good at all.

“I’ve tried everything to separate them, but none of it worked and that’s why I’m here today. I heard you’d grant any wishes as long as it doesn’t mess with life’s existence.”

No, don’t tell me—

“So I’ll make my wish, it doesn’t matter if I go to debt—please split up my son and that horrible girl.”

You look at Suga in shock, surely he wouldn’t—

Suga seemed unfazed, “Your wish has been received. Those two people will definitely have to part.”

Does this guy have a conscious? Any morals? Your opinion of him, if possible, dropped even lower.

The man smiled, “Oh, thank you! How much do you require…?”

“I don’t take money.” Suga said simply, “But the moment your wish is granted I will take your most prized possession.”

The man looked a bit worried, “My most prized possession? It’s not money?”

“For the most part, humans live without actually knowing what’s most important to them. The most important thing to you isn’t money. The moment your wish is granted, you’ll understand exactly what that is.”

“…alright. Whatever it is, it won’t be a big deal..”

“Alright, then you need to sign the contract, I—“

You couldn’t hold your tongue for a second longer and set down the tray on the desk hard as you glared at Suga, “Why are you such an ass? Do you have any sense of decency whatsoever?” You then turned to the man, “Same goes for you, baldy—making such a thing as your wish! You should be ash—“ You felt lips move but no sound came from it. You gave Suga at dirty look, knowing that he did this to shut you up. The nerve!

Both men seemed unfazed as the man signed the contract and asked, “Then when will you…?”

“It will be granted at midnight.”

The man nodded, stood up, and held up his hand, “Pleasure doing business with you.”

Suga shook his hand and the man walked pass you and left the office. You just looked at Suga in disbelief.

“You shouldn’t have interfered.”

You snorted and realized you were able to make sounds again, “You’d really grant such a wish? You think it’s just okay to grant any wish at all?”

He didn’t even looked up at you, “I don’t have any interest in human wishes to begin with. The only thing of importance is the precious possession I receive in return.”

Of course he wasn’t human, you thought, somehow that didn’t surprise you.

But still, granting a wish that will separate two people deeply in love…

“You’re truly evil.” You simply said, “I’ll stop that wish from coming true myself.”

He finally looked up, “Are you planning to kill me?”

“W-what?”

“Once a contract is made if the wish fails to be granted I’ll die.”, he simply said, like he was discussing the weather, “I have no intention of letting you get in my way. It may not look like much, but I stake my life every time I grant a wish.”

You were not amused at all, “An idiot who banks his life on such things deserves to die.”

Suga regarded you and there was a heavy silence. He then said, “Fine, then try it. If you really think you can. Let’s make a bet. If you succeed, I’ll release you from having to work for me.”

You were wary of making a bet with him, but this was so tempting. Not only will you be helping this couple, you could be free.

“But,” Suga continued, “if you fail, then you’ll remain in my employment until I get tired of you.”

Until he was tired of me?, you thought, I can be very annoying, he’ll soon grow tired of me.

For you, it was a win-win situation. You have to at least try to help this couple, you don’t think you’ll ever forgive yourself if you don’t try.

“Deal.”

You managed to worm the address of the apartment where the son and his fiancee is living from Suga.

Gotta hurry, there’s only four hours until midnight.

You were running to the direction of the address and slammed into a guy so hard you both feel on the floor. You sat up and looked over to see if the guy was alright but he was unconscious. Panicking, you rush over him and try to get him to wake.

“Oh shit—I’m sorry! Please don’t die, wake up!”

You heard strange sounds coming from him and paused, was that—-?

“Don’t worry,” the boy said, “This isn’t the sound of death, it’s my stomach growling.” He gave a small laugh and you were relieved that he was okay.

You then looked at his face and narrowed your eyes.

“Do I know you?”

He frowned as he slowly sat up, “I don’t think so…”

Wait—he’s the son! He looks just like the guy in the picture! Wow, it’s my luck that I run into him here.

Before you can say anything, he gave out a cry of disappointment, “Oh no! The dinner I made…”

You looked to see what he was looking at and saw a lunch box knocked over and the food was all over the pavement. You grimaced and looked at the boy, who looked like he was a bout to cry.

“I made it just for her…and it was all the money I had left…”

His stomach growled again and he looked at you in embarrassment.

Scrambling for the opportunity, you bluttered out, “Let me make it up to you--let me buy you some food!”

His face lit up, “You would do that? I’ll greatly appreciate it...”

You helped him off the floor and you guys walked to the nearest convenience store.

“What’s your name? Mine is y/n.”

“Chan.” He answered.

“So, you mentioned a girl…?”

Chan lit up, “Yes! My fiancee, Jeonghwa, I love her so much. She’s a few years older than me, but I don’t mind.”

“How did you guys met?” You asked, curious. He obviously loves Jeonghwa so much, he is so animated talking about her.

“I was doing a summer internship at my dad’s hospital, my dad owns a hospital by the way, when I met Jeonghwa in the cafeteria. She was so beautiful and so sweet, I had to talk to her. It took me a while to impress her and make her see me as a man, but it was all worth it.”

“If your dad owns a hospital, how are starving now?” You asked, you can already guess what had happened though.

Chan’s face distorted to anger, “Yeah all my dad cares about is money. When he heard that I got engaged to Jeonghwa he threatened to cut me off. And when that didn’t work he kicked me out of the house and said the only way he would want to see my face again was if I broke up with her.”

You were shocked by how cruel his father was, “Wow, I’m so sorry. My parents are dead, but at least they were never like that.”

“I’m sorry about your parents,” Chan sighed, “My dad wasn’t always like this. Before my mom died he was actually really decent and actually cared about me. Afterwards though, he became obsessed with money.”

You fell silent and you paid for the food, “...Well at least I can help out in this little way.”

Chan lit up, “No, this is awesome--you didn’t really have to do this. We really appreciate it!”

You smiled at Chan’s beaming face, he was a good kid.

You guys continued to talk as you walked to the bad side of town and entered a worn looking apartment building.

“Jeonghwa, love, look—food!” Chan said excitedly as he burst through the door. It was a small one bedroom apartment, obviously very run-down, and a beautiful but frail woman was sitting on the bed.

“Where did you get all this food?” She then noticed your presence, “And who’s this?”

“It’s a funny story,” Chan replied as he started taking the food out and preparing it. He then explained how the two of you met, “She bought all this because she felt bad, noona.”

Jeonghwa frowned, “But Chan, you caused so much trouble for someone you don’t know. You’re really…” she then stopped and looked away.

Chan stopped his preparations, “You were going to call me young again, huh?”

“No, but when you do things like this I—“

“I’m not that young, I’ll work hard to make sure you’re taken care of.”

“What..?”

“I took a leave of absence from school—“

“What? You quit school?” Jeonghwa was obviously not happy and the couple obviously forgot that you were here because they were talking quite freely.

“No, I didn’t quit, I’m just taking a break—“

“That’s basically the same thing!”

“Look, I was kicked out of home so it’s not like I can afford to go to school anymore.”

“I told you not to worry about school. I’m better now and can work, I can support us.”

“Don’t say that! You barely recovered, how can you work?”

“I don’t want you to end up like me!” Jeonghwa cried, “A loser with no job or future.”

“Don’t say that.” Chan said, grabbing her hand, “You have a future.”

Jeonghwa was crying, “I don’t want to ruin yours though.”

Her tears made Chan’s eyes start to water, “You’re not ruining my future, noona!”

“Yes, I am!”

They were getting agitated and it was one line away from it becoming a full blown fight. You panicked, what if they end up breaking up? I have to do something…

“H-hey!” You called, getting their attention, “I can take care of the food, at least until you can afford it. My family died and now I get monthly income that’s more than enough, so I can help you.”

They both stared at you, then looked at each other.

“She must have hit her head really hard when she fell.”

“We must be very pitiful, huh?”

“She’s clearly not thinking well.”

“Clearly.”

Great, that had the opposite effect, “Look, look, I can really help—!”

They simply ignored me and Chan started to feed Jeonghwa.

“Eat this, since you haven’t eaten been able to eat in a few days.”

You kept trying to get their attention, but they seemed to be in their own little world.

No, I can’t fail…but they won’t even listen to me…, you thought.

“What about you…?” Jeonghwa asked.

Chan gave her a bright smile, “I already ate.”

Liar, you thought, if his stomach growling earlier was any indication.

Jeonghwa started to cough and Chan was instantly at her side, “Noona? Are you okay?”

She started to hug her stomach, “My stomach…it hurts…”

Chan started to panic as Jeonghwa fainted in his arms. He turned to you, “Y/N, what should I do?”

Tears started to well in his eyes and you quickly brought out your phone and called a taxi.

“We have to get her to the hospital fast.” You said and he nodded as he picked her up effortlessly.

The travel to the hospital was tense, Jeonghwa came back to consciousness but she was still feeling very weak and her stomach was still in pain.

She was carted into the emergency room and you had the task in trying to comfort Chan.

“I knew it wouldn’t last,” he mumbled, “this happiness. I knew sooner or later her sickness was going to be too much. I don’t know how I’m going to pay for this hospital bill.”

You again offered to help him, but he shook his head.

“Jeonghwa is right, it’s too much to ask for a stranger—you already did more than enough.”

Before you can argue about that, the doctor came out and Chan ran up to him.

“Well…?”

“Well the good news is that it’s nothing serious, she’s sick because you feed her such greasy food after days of not eating. But more importantly while I was running tests on her, I found out that her sickness has gotten much worse. If she doesn’t get surgery right away, she could die.”

Chan’s face fell, “But I can’t come up with the money right away…”

“I recommend you try to. Every minute is valuable.”

“But how could this be? Last time, you said she was getting better.”

“It’s perplexing to me too. It’s unusual for the patient to get worse in such a short time…”

Did Suga do this, you thought, the bastard, bringing Jeonghwa’s health into this—she could die!

You looked at the your phone and, sure enough, it was almost midnight. That son of a bitch, if she dies because of this…

You heard Chan sigh and looked up to him; he looked like he was debating something.

“There’s only one way...”

“What...?”

You noticed his father was there, and clenched your hands. Of course.

“You win,” Chan said solemnly, “If you can save her, I’ll do whatever you want. I won’t see her.”

His father smiled, “I knew you’ll come around.”

“They said she’ll get better once she gets surgery.”

“I’ll make sure she’s healed.”

“Then I’ll do it, I’ll break up with her.”

“No.” You whispered and looked at your phone. Midnight on the dot.

Chan’s father also realizes it’s midnight and he stared at his son as his eyes widened in panic, “Wait—”

Chan looked at his father in confusion, but then he suddenly collapsed. His father tried to catch him but he too went to the ground, unable to support all the weight. He started to panic.

“Chan! No, not my son!” Medics started to swarm around them and Chan’s father collapsed.

You were shook by the whole scene, which happened so quickly. You knew somehow Suga was responsible for all this and wondered if Chan ended up being his most prized possession.

I have to find Suga, you thought as you ran out of the hospital and to the direction of Suga’s office. Things can’t end like this.

You couldn’t remember when was the last time you ran this much, but by the time you reached the lobby you were really out of breath. You were able to catch your breath a bit when you were in the elevator. When the elevator door opened, you ran up to his office. Suga was resting in the couch. It seems like your entrance woke him up and he was glaring at you.

You ignored this and said, “What did you do to them?”

He simply stared at you.

“Well?” You asked, losing your patience.

“I didn’t do anything, now let me go to slee—“

He started to close his eyes when you poked his cheek, “Chan and his dad. The one who asked for the wish today—what did you do to them?”

Suga glared at you, “Don’t touch me. And I didn’t do anything to Chan. As for the father, I didn’t do anything to him, strictly speaking.”

“Then why did they both collapse? Right when the wish was granted, they collapsed.”

Suga seemed to realize that I wouldn’t leave until he offered me an explanation and let out a sigh. He slowly got up and started to walk. You followed him, confused. He walked down the hallway and opened one of the rooms. It was a room filled with vases and boxes. He went towards the middle of the room where there was a floating crystal orb. “See for yourself, they’re fine.”

“What—?”

He waved his hand and in the orb there was an image inside the crystal ball. It was Chan and his father, who was in a hospital bed. They seemed like they were talking and you heard soft voices coming from the orb. You strained your ears to listen.

“—you’re alright!”, the father grabbed Chan’s hands, as if making sure he was right there in front of him. “Yeah, I’m fine,” Chan said awkwardly, “I was starved for so long that I must’ve gotten dizzy. But what happened to you? Do you feel fine? The doctor said you just collapsed because of stress.”

The father still looked shocked, as if he was trying to process everything, “Tell me, is that girl alright?”

Chan looked puzzled, “What?”

“Your fiancee—is she alright?”

“Y-yeah, they just finished the surgery on her and she should be recovering.”

“I’m glad that she’s doing better; you should go see her though.”

Chan looked so shook, “Wait, what? I thought you didn’t want me to see her again…”

“I know, but I while I thought you were gone I realized how silly I was being. You love her, right?”

“Y-Yes...”

“Then that’s all that matters. I was a fool before thinking that money will bring you happiness.”

“Father, I--” With tears in his eyes, Chan hugged his father, “Thank you.”

Confused at the scene in front of you, you turned to Suga.

“Why is he like that? You did do something to him after all.”

“I only took his most prized possession, as promised.”

“So then what did you—?”

“Greed” Suga answered, “Usually it’s a lie when parents say they do things in the kid’s best interest. He never did the things he did for his son, but because of his greed.”

You stood there in awe and looked back at the scene in the orb, “So what happens now?”

“Well since I took his greed away they’ll be happy, for now. But there’s always another type of greed that springs up eventually. Hopefully, he would learn his lesson by then.”

This guy, you thought, maybe he isn’t so bad after all.

“Did you plan this from the start?”

“No.” Suga simply said, “I knew his son was the most important thing so I risked my life and took the next best thing. Fortunately, it worked.”

He studied the vase labeled ‘greed’ and you have to say you were a little impressed.

“Do you do that often? Instead of taking someone special from them you take something else that can be lost?”

Suga laughed, “Oh no, I have taken souls before—see that vase?” He pointed to a vase across the room, “That’s my collection of good looking guys.”

You stared at him to see if he was joking but he was as serious as ever, “Wow, you’re sick—I definitely can’t trust you.”

And to think I was so close to thinking he was a good guy, I should have known.

Suga just smirked, “It’s probably better if you don’t. Well since you lost the bet, you’ll be working for me until I get tired of you. Which could be tomorrow, could be fifty years from now—we’ll see.”

You inwardly sighed, he’s right—I’m probably going to see him for god knows how long. The very least we can be is civil so that we don’t have such a miserable time. You held out your hand.

“I dunno if you know, but my name’s Y/N. In any case, I’m sorry I told you to die.”

He just stared at my hand and said, “Ah, yeah…”

So rude!, you thought as you awkwardly brought your hand down, “Don’t just say ‘ah yeah’. I said my name, so you’re supposed to say yours back.”

“You already know my name.”

“No, I meant your real name.”

There was a slight paused, then, “Just call me Suga. There’s a curse on my real name, so if you use it you’ll get hurt.”

Ugh, nothing can be simple with him, you thought, why do I feel like this is only the start of some cruel plan the universe had thought up for me?

“Fine, Suga.”

You were still suspicious of him and his agenda, he was still an absolute jerk, but at least you’re not alone anymore.

#suga fanfic #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts x reader #magic!yoongi #magic!bts #suga angst #yoongi angst #the magician and I

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