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galacticspaceguy · 11 months

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can i have a miguel o’hara platonic reader?? maybe younger sibling and he’s overly protective of them. they want to fight alongside miguel and help him restore the multiverse but miguel wont allow them. they get into a mini argument which ends with them hugging n stuff and finally miguel allows his younger sibling to fight w him IDK IF THIS IS A LOT BUT I NEED MORE PLATONIC X READERS 😭😭

Miguel O’Hara x gn! Reader (platonic)

You were Spider-Man.

Ok, You were all Spider-Man.

But you were different. At least, Miguel would say so. Not in a bad way. Miguel just liked you more than everyone else.

You were younger, and he felt responsible for you.

You both come from different worlds, except his was gone. You were the only good thing he had left, you were like the little sibling he never asked for but always wanted.

How did you two meet? Well, it’s a long story.

It actually isn’t that long.

Almost a year ago, you were fighting Green Goblin, and then Miguel showed up, and kicked his ass.

-and then you got recruited.

You don’t really know why though, you never did anything.

You mostly stayed in the lobby. Correction, you only ever stayed in the lobby. Yeah, you had your own earth and everything, but Miguel had a bunch of stuff figured out so all the dangerous criminals in your world would be taken care of.

Now all that was left was small crimes, like break-ins or petty theft. You spent most of your days getting cats out of trees.

It was nice not getting the shit- crap beaten out of you every few weeks, but this was just boring.

But you guess with Miguel to keep you company, it wasn’t too bad.

It was obvious to the rest of the spider lobby that Miguel was protective of you- perhaps too much. They even started calling you “Y/N O’Hara” or “mini O’hara”, much to your own amusement.

“Hey, Miguel!” You called out, strolling into Miguel’s totally not evil void office. “You done brooding, I got us empanadas from Earth- something-something,I forgot.”

You held two white styrofoam containers in your hands. You clicked the web shooter in your palm. A web stuck into a base and you swung yourself up to Miguel’s upper platform.

“At first I was gonna get Chinese takeout, but it turns out some guy exploded the place, so this shall suffice!” You lightly tossed him one of the containers.

You took a seat on top of a table, crossed your legs and started digging in.

“So-“ you said through bites. “What did you do today despite standing here all menacingly?”

Miguel had taken a seat, picking at little bits of his food.

Miguel looked at you with a look you could only describe as a silent “really?”.

“I’m kidding!” You threw your hands up innocently. “But no, seriously what have you been doing in here?”

He placed his food down, and pulled up a screen, showing off a picture of the Spiderverse- or the ultimately confusing Humanoid-Arachnia, poly multiverse- or whatever Miguel calls it.

“More worlds are becoming infected. It’s like the whole multiverse is about to collapse in on itself.” His tone of voice was already serious, but you knew behind that stoicism, he was scared.

You ate your food down, and walked towards him. You leaned over his shoulder, looking at all the red little dots on the screen, the names of different spider universes popping up like crazy.

“What am I even looking at right now?” You said this as more of a joke. Miguel rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Please, take this seriously.”

“I will once you give me my first job.” You crossed your arms. You’ve been begging to be out in the field for months, to no avail.

Miguel got up and turned to face you. “Y/N, we’ve talked about this-“

There was a loud beeping sound coming from the screen.

“Lyla, what’s going on!?”

“Another dimension, another anomaly, you know the drill.” The mini holographic woman said.

Miguel sighed, his face a blank slate of unknown emotions. He started walking away. You trailed behind him.

“Great, let’s get going!”

He froze in his tracks. “Who said you were going.”

“Uh, me.” You stopped and turned to look at him, placing a confident hand on your hip.

“No.” He brushed past you.

“Wait, what!?” You quickly caught up with him, but he continued walking. “But I’ve been waiting for this for months!”

“You’re not going.” He didn’t even look at you. He started tampering with his watch.

“But that’s not fair!?” You yelled. You stopped, and stood there. He heard your steps come to a stop, and he slowly came to a halt.

“It’s too dangerous.” He still wasn’t looking at you, and it was starting to drive you insane.

“You can’t be serious.” You almost laughed. “You call up Jess for backup, and she’s with child!” You scoffed.

“You’re not ready.” He said, a bit louder this time, clearer.

“Yes, I am. I’m spiderman! I’ve been ready, why won’t you let me do this!?” You walked up to him. He finally turned to face you.

“You’re not going. That’s final.” He shook his head. The look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

He didn’t think you were strong enough.

You weren’t enough.

“You don’t think I can do it!?” You yelled.

“Y/N, that’s not what I meant-“

“Oh, sure!” You’d scoffed, throwing your hands up in defeat. “That’s why you won’t let me tag along- or won’t even let me fight my own battles, why not, huh? Am I not strong enough for you?”

You were jolted forward when he grabbed your shoulders. He shook you. You froze in his grasp.

“I can’t lose anyone else!”

He screamed. The emotional walls he held up fell. He panted, seemingly out of breath from a single sentence. He let go of you, letting his hands fall to his sides.

Everything is so eerily quiet, nothing but the sounds of shaky breaths and the sounds of machinery in the background.

“I can’t…” Miguel said in nothing higher than a whisper. If he spoke another word, he would break.

You wrapped your arms around him. It catches him off guard at first, but quickly he holds you, like if he lets go, you would disappear.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You whisper, and you can feel his arms tighten around you.

After what felt like an eternity of it just being you two, you let go. Miguel looks away to hide his tear stained face.

“You get one mission. If it goes well, you can come on more.” His voice was hoarse, but it was beginning to return to its normal tone.

“Yes!” You shouted, and hugged him again, this time it was short and outlived. He smiles down at you.

“What are we waiting for?” You asked, pulling him along. “Let’s go save the multiverse!”

#across the spiderverse #spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #oneshot #writing

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wooahaes · 2 years

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I would consider myself small and skinny and even I hate when writers describe readers as small 😭 it makes me so uncomfortable bc I know there are so many people reading who probably don't fit that and it's strange to me that they don't consider that when writing. it's why so try to be super conscious of how I describe reader (which I barely ever describe ANYTHING physical about them, I hate even when people describe putting hair in a ponytail or something) and even try to be conscious of actions that might not be inclusive (such as being lifted, wearing bfs shirt, etc).

I'm really sorry that you are finding so many fics that aren't inclusive :/ with smaus that use ulzzang pictures, i always try to imagine that it's just the aesthetic/pose writer is going for but it still breaks the 4th wall for me bc it sticks out like a sore thumb being like "that's not what i look like/most readers look like"

hi nonny ur cool and very nice i love u

also god... the ponytail thing gets me every time as someone who typically cuts her hair short lmao literally i kinda run my hand through my hair like how... how did i do that... magic.......

i think the thing that gets me is that it's like... really not that hard to write an inclusive reader fic imo? like why is it important for reader to be thin/tiny/petite/small/whatever word you wanna use to designate that they're small? is it really that important that you have to derail from your writing to include something like that? also, who thinks of themself like that? it's also annoying in first person (both fic and published works) when people do the "my blue eyes" shit because no one consciously thinks like that. there's a big difference between a new writer saying "i open my blue eyes and run a hand through my long blonde hair" and maybe using it to set something up. maybe your character has contacts or maybe their eye color mysteriously changed because ~magic~, or maybe they're on the run and dyed their hair and chopped it all off. but in reader fic? where the whole point is projecting onto a blank slate to imagine yourself in these situations? i don't need to tell you what you look like. you already know what you look like.

whats the point? it's fine if you want to write something for yourself and for other people like you. genuinely, it's okay to do that as long as you tag it so people know. i respect smaus with ulzzangs that outright say that the writer used pictures for reader. i'm personally not going to read them, but at least i actually get a warning. even if its easier to just not include the pictures, i respect works that tell me outright whether it'll actually be for me or not. i write chubby!reader fics sometimes where all that's specified is that reader is a bigger person. i don't think i've ever specified how big, but the sentiment is still there. people write fics for people of color and they tag them.

i think it's completely okay to write works for yourself and people like you, but it just kinda feels unfair that if you fit into this "other" category (not thin, not short, not white, etc.) you have to tag it. everyone should tag their stuff. it just makes it easier to navigate and for people to find works that they can potentially see themselves in.

anyway i don't really read smaus that aren't written by my mutuals, tbh. i think there's one i started but then went "oh i'll come back to it" and then failed to do that lmao (i'll get around to it sometime tho!! it actually seemed super cute and i don't think there were any ulzzangs Anywhere, bless).

but if you want inclusive smaus... u should check out my mutual, ursa @thepixelelf !!! she's very funny and cool and also she talks about inclusivity in fics and why its important <3 she's the one who made a lil text convo with the vernon idea i posted about he + reader saying they're expecting when they're literally just getting a cat together hehe <3 but shitty fanfiction + the entirety of been there, done that is very good!! for a completed work... u should check out first to fall (cheol x reader) <3

also you should just check out ursa in general tbh she's one of the best ppl i know and i'm very thankful to have a mutual like her? i think everyone i'm mutuals with is someone i care for a lot and people who i think are extremely kind, but ursa has the biggest heart and i truly appreciate everything she does.

#wooahaes.ask #asks.anon #one day i'll get around to making my writer recs list but i'd have to sit down and like. read through a lot of my mutuals works #and decide how to describe it + what works i'd suggest the most?#since i was gonna do a lil blurb for each and say like... why i like them and what their work brings and what i'd suggest + why #i only got through ursa and livvie's before i set the idea on the back burner since i have more writers i'd like to recommend/promo #and i just haven't really had the time or motivation to sit down and really say what i want to say #also no readmore on this one since i think its important + u should follow ursa

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greenygreenland · 3 years

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Dream A Little Dream of Me: Norman x Reader (Part Three)

-part three is here! I had to slice it in two because apparently there's a certain word block limit (at least on mobile). So get ready for part four!

Summary: You can’t remember anything.

Month four, 08:00

The last thing you recalled was the face of a boy with light hair. His eyes were bright, swirling with love and affection you looked for everyday. Whenever you woke up, you couldn’t remember his name, or his sweet voice that called out to you in your dreams.

All you had was the light of day and the rising sun. It made you sad to look upon it alone in your room. Someone else were supposed to be by your side, right next to you. But who?

And then there was the absence of a motherly figure--a woman you only recalled through song. How was it you remembered that melancholy tune but not a name or face? You wished you knew, and you prayed everyday to whoever was up there to give you another chance. Another go at life--with the people you never knew the names of.

“Good morning, Letha.”

You met the old man’s gaze with a simple nod. His crinkly voice was one of the things you actually didn’t mind, even if it was hard to hear at times.

The old man, Alex, was kind, but the most you conversed about were your lost memories, your insane knacks for weapons, chess, and lastly, intelligence.

Time wasn’t friendly, and a month passed uneventfully. It turned into two, which turned into three and so on. Every now and then, you wondered if you’d stay like that: a blank slate. Alex said there was this one philosopher who called it a ‘tabula rasa’. For some reason, that fact reminded you of someone long ago.

Dark hair, the smell of old books, dust hidden between bookshelves...

You began to make out the image of a boy. He was no older than you, with cool eyes, a warm, yet small smile. Who was he? His name was at the tip of your tongue, yet it wouldn’t come out.

Ren? Reylo? Tired Cyclops? No, that wasn’t it. Obviously.

It hurt to think too much about it, and before you could grasp onto it, the memory faded, along with the name.

“Don’t think too hard,” Alex warmly said. “I’m sure it’ll come with time.”

He hoped to help you recover your lost memories, but in the meantime, he’d do his best to support you, just as he’d done with his long, dead daughter. For that reason, he felt it was time to bring you to the world outside. In this town you both resided in, everyone died in a war.

Alex was the only survivor.

For that reason, he was the only person you ever got to know these past seven months. There was no one your age around here, and it wasn’t like you went far anyway. Every now and then, Alex brought you a few towns over to experience a nice train ride to his favourite shops. Then he’d buy you something and take pictures.

But now? He felt it was time to take it a step further. He wasn’t sure if you’d like the idea, but it was worth a try.

SEVEN MONTHS LATER, 06:28

“Come again?” you inquired. Alex took a sip of his coffee and stood from the chair. The wooden floorboards of the cabin creaked under his weight. He waddled over to the window, drawing open the plaid curtains. Warm rays of sunlight fluttered upon your face and Alex smiled warmly like he always did.

“It’s time you get out more,” he said, “and experience the world outside this old town. I want you to look across the horizon because there’s more than the cabin.” You knitted your brows together. You didn’t like how cryptic he was being. It reminded you of someone you once knew, someone who you held close to your heart.

“Gramps, what are you trying to say?”

Alex heaved in a long breath, as if he were afraid of saying it himself. “I want you to go to school. College, if you want the specifics.” Your eyes doubled in size and you hoped, prayed, that he would take it back and say it was a joke. College? You didn’t need a degree! And besides, it was expensive. You couldn’t afford something like that. But alas, Alex wasn’t one to joke about serious things like that. He was an old man, so he always meant what he said.

This time was no different.

“You mean it,” you practically whispered. “That you want me to go to college.” Alex nodded, absentmindedly running a hand through his thick, white beard. There was a long pause and you took the time to sip your tea. Would school benefit you in some way? Was it worth the time? The work?

It didn’t make sense. You were smart. Alex said it himself: “I haven’t met anyone as smart as you”. So why did he want to send you to school? It had to be more than just to “meet people” because you did that all the time on the train every few days.

“What’s so good about college, Gramps? We can’t afford to pay for something so expensive. I don’t want to see you in debt just because of me.”

Through your calm façade, Alex noticed the spark of uncertainty in your eyes. Throughout the long days he got to know you, he realised one thing: you were never keen on showing your emotions.

“I want to give you an opportunity to find yourself,” he finally replied. “If the people you knew are around your age, then going to school might bring something back. You know, jog your memories. Besides that, I want you to have a life more than that I can offer. There’s nothing in this small town.”

“I don’t know about that. I have you here. You’re all I know, Gramps.”

Alex knitted his bushy brows together. “I know, but I can’t always be the only one you know. Don’t you want to see the world?”

It wasn’t that going to college was excruciatingly disappointing, only that it was a means of giving out false hope. How could you cling onto something so child-like and unreliable?

Hope could only get people so far. You were no different.

That night, you lay in bed, wide awake. A nagging thought kept pulling at the back of your mind, repeating itself over, and over, and over again until you couldn’t stand the phrase. But as soon as you repeated it with your own lips, it vanished as if it never existed.

You lay in bed for a little longer, fighting the lull of sleep. It pulled on your eyes, and your head nodded as you forced down a yawn. Sleep was for the weak. If you stayed awake a little longer, maybe you might remember something, right?

-----

The grass tickled your bare feet. If it were any normal day, you would have liked to lay down in its warm embrace with Emma, Ray and Norman. You could watch the clouds together, and wonder about life outside these concrete walls.

But that was stupid to think about, wasn’t it? The liberty to relax and do absolutely nothing had been striped from your very being, like the air that you gasped and chocked on. You held your shoes tightly to your chest and frantically glanced past your shoulder. Good. All clear, just how you liked it.

Norman and Emma lay a couple hundred meters behind. They were your eyes, the two little owls that perched high above with all-seeing eyes. With a grunt, you hopped over a thick tree root and tossed aside your shoes. They landed somewhere in the brush, right where the trees parted.

You came to a stop and glared at the concrete wall towering over you. If you completed your mission and everything remained as straight-forward as you wanted it to be, then you’d escape with everyone. Just like Emma wanted. Just like you tried so hard to believe.

But what if something happened? What if Don and Gilda were caught? Or worse, what if Mama suspected that Ray betrayed her? Surely she wouldn’t go as far as to eliminate him on the spot...

...right?

You clenched a fist so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Stop. Stop it, you told yourself. You had to have faith in your family. They were just as capable as you, maybe even more, so they’d have no issues. You had to focus on your job so they could do theirs.

“My, so this is where you’ve run to?”

You sucked in a sharp breath.

No, that couldn’t be. You made sure she wouldn’t know where you were. You told all the precautions, too. Were Emma and Norman okay? What about Ray? And Don and Gilda?

“I’m surprised you managed to make this far.” Mama stiffly said. “You never were as strong as Emma, or fast either.”

It was like the sun stopped shining. Your blood ran cold. The warm rays turned to ice.

“It’s not too late to turn back (Y/n).” Her voice was silky smooth, tempting almost, as if she were coaxing a frightened sheep to the slaughter. “You’ve improved, my dear, but is it enough? Once your plan crumbles, what will you do then? It wouldn’t be a bad idea to become a mama. It’s the reliable path. You will survive and you will be happy.”

For a moment, you wondered if she actually cared about you. Maybe her love was all fake from the beginning and she didn’t care about you. Or your family. Or anything but survival in this cruel world.

You never loved us.

That was what you wanted to say, yet the words stuck in your throat like glue. If she didn’t love you, then why did she hold you so tightly when you had a nightmare? If she didn’t love you, then why did her eyes shine with pride when you got perfect scores?

“Come, my dear,” Mama coaxed. “Let’s go home.”

The sudden urge to laugh bubbled in your throat like lava.

Home? This was a prison in disguise.

It’s not too late to turn back? A lie.

It wouldn’t be a bad idea to become a mama? As if.

You couldn’t afford to betray your family. Not after all you’ve done, and not after all the effort. They relied on you. You weren’t going to let them down.

You turned on your heel to face Mama. She smiled at you, but it wasn’t a nice smile. It made your stomach twist and turn, reminded you just how much of a danger she could be. Your gaze focused past her shoulder, where a familiar head of orange stood.

Emma peeked out from behind the trees and held up the bag of rope. Norman stood from a cluster of bushes and motioned the the wall. They were going to climb it while you distracted Mama. Perfect.

A bright grin broke out onto your lips. “I’m sorry Mama.” you began.

She stood like a statue with wide eyes. “Are you now?” she inquired. You were finally conceding in this fiery war of wits. After all that fuss and now would she have you back by her side? She opened her arms to welcome you. It was all she could do with her prized little girl. Finally you were being smart. Finally you were choosing the reliable path. You were going to follow in her footsteps. Survive. And outlive everyone in this house like she had.

But then something happened. Emma burst from the bushes, followed by Norman who helped throw the rope up a nearby branch. That triggered you into action, and you lunged at Mama with all the strength you could muster.

“I will never--!”

You wrestled for her watch.

“--ever--!”

Mama tugged on your little arms.

“--leave my family behind!”

You yanked the stupid watch out of her hands, but just as you stood, Mama grasped onto your leg and tugged. Hard. She gave it a squeeze, and a sickening crack echoed in your ears. You screamed. Your ears rung and you heaved in a strangled breath.

“You should have taken the reliable path.” Mama’s calm voice made you want to vomit. “None of us would be here if you had listened to your mama.”

-----

Your eyes shot open and you jolted awake. The faces, the voices, the senses--they flashed before you in a whirl of colours and sounds. Why couldn’t you recall who they were? Or what their names were? You knew every single one of them by heart, yet your mind lay completely blank. Again.

The urge to punch your mattress overwhelmed your senses.

“Good morning,” came Alex’s crinkly voice. That snapped you out of your frustrated stupor. He stood in the doorway, a warm smile on his lips and a spatula in hand. “Pancakes are almost done. Today we’ll get you settled in your dorm.”

Oh. Right. Gramps was sending you to a boarding school. The thought of leaving your beloved bed left you queasy and sluggish. Why should you go somewhere so far away from this cozy, little cottage? It was only recently that you settled here too. Maybe Gramps was taking it too fast.

With a heavy heart, you lugged yourself out of bed and threw on a pair of warm clothes. The unforgiving climate of this land was not one you would challenge. Ever.

The moment you emerged from your room was the moment you understood Gramps’s insistence. He meant well, you knew, but in a way you didn’t appreciate. Going out gave you a higher chance of meeting whomever you knew. It was completely logical.

“Are you worried?” Gramps began, placing a stack of pancakes on your plate. “I’ve already informed your school teachers of your amnesia, so they’ll understand. As for your dormitory, everything has been set. And don’t forget your breakfast, lunch, and dinner plans, as well as your--”

“You seem more anxious than me, Gramps.” you said with a subtle smile. He stared at you, wide-eyed until he mirrored you with a chuckle. “I suppose you’re right. I just want to make sure the transition goes smoothly.”

“Of course.”

“And that you’re safe and okay.”

“Gramps--”

“And that you won’t have to worry about a thing.”

“--the pancake’s burning.”

That set him off. He jolted out of his chair faster than his age and capabilities should have allowed. It was a miracle too, because the poor pancake was seconds away from catching fire on the pan. A long sigh left Gramps’s lips as he turned off the stove. “I think I’ll give this to the birds.”

“You best do that, because I won’t eat that piece of charcoal.”

You shared a quick chuckle between each other, savouring the warmth and comfort that came. If someone else had found you that day in the field of endless grass, you weren’t sure if you’d be so lucky. It was by chance Gramps was the one to discover you, so you couldn’t imagine life otherwise.

Once your pancakes were gone and your bag all packed, you traveled to the train station in the early rays of sun. Gramps was the type of enjoy the silence of nature, but to you, it was excruciating.

It didn’t matter where you went. Each time, you looked past your shoulder, to the fading mountains, to the little rabbits that scurried by. It was like you were on survival mode. But why should you be when there was nothing out here? It was so peaceful, so wonderful that you couldn’t imagine anything coming out to get you.

Smile. It’s okay, I promise. I’m here.

You froze and glanced past your shoulder towards the rolling hills and the fading grass. That voice--you knew it. But had you dreamed it up? There was no one here but you and Gramps. A short sigh left your lips and all Gramps could do was ruffle your hair comfortingly.

The train ride was nice. With the calm chugging and the way it swayed, you didn’t mind it at all. Every now and then, your eyes fluttered open and closed. Maybe you were tired. Maybe you weren’t a morning person. Whatever the reason, you submitted to the lull and closed your eyes.

-----

Not a single soul moved for what felt like centuries. The moment Ray, Gilda and Don arrived at the scene, it was clear that nothing else could be done. Mama smiled at her children viciously. She wasn’t here to play nice any longer. Today, she was the hunter and her children the prey.

“It was a clean break. She will recover smoothly,” Mama curtly announced. “And Norman?”

You didn’t like the way she looked at him, or the way her grip seemed to tighten on your limp arms. Her gaze dangerously narrowed and she said, “Your shipment date has been set.”

Your heart stopped and your blood ran cold. Norman’s shipment date had been set? No, that couldn’t be. Your plan required at least another week until everything fell into place. Norman was the core of it all. Without him, what would you do?

And speaking of which, he was going to die.

Die.

He was going to die.

You squirmed in Mama’s grasp, hoping--praying that you could maneuver around this. Norman wasn’t going to die. You wouldn’t let him.

“Let me--let me go!”

It was reckless and it was stupid to think he’d be able to evade Mama’s sight just like that, but you had to try. Didn’t Emma say you’d all leave here together? “Norman--!”

He blinked as if he’d woken up from a long dream. The forced smile the sprouted on his lips looked painful. Don’t struggle, it said.

Don’t struggle? How did he expect you to sit around and do nothing? If anyone should be shipped out first, it should be you. Why? Because you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you let any of your family go.

Mama glared down at you with a cold smile. “You can’t fight me more than you can stop the sun from setting,” she said, heaving you higher off ground. Your leg hit her arm and a cry escaped your lips. Norman flinched and Emma remained frozen in place.

You were always the strong one, not Emma, not Ray, and not Norman. Because you were one of the eldest, it was your responsibility to be the shoulder to cry on and to stand when no one else could. To see you holding back tears and gritting your teeth tight enough to make your gums bleed made Norman’s little heart break.

He didn’t care about his shipment date. All he wanted was to see you safe.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of faces, voices and regrets. The sharp pain in your leg long faded, leaving only a dull throb that stayed as a reminder of your failure. Yes, that was what you were, right? You couldn’t complete the plan even with Don, Gilda and Ray distracting Mama. You were pathetic. A waste of space.

The door creaked open and you sat up a little straighter. You smiled at the trio as they entered the room. “Hey guys.”

“How are you feeling?” inquired Norman. He took a seat by your bedside and gave your hand a gentle squeeze. Ray pulled up another chair. He hid his face behind his fringe to conceal his grim frown. It didn’t work though, and you merely smiled at him. He huffed irritably, as if he didn’t want you to know he worried so much.

“I didn’t think she’d go that far.” Ray quietly muttered. You knitted your brows together with a absentminded shrug. “And to think I was that close to getting her watch.” Emma’s shoulders sagged. “I wish I had--”

“It’s fine Emma.” you said with a warm smile. “Broken bones heal, it’s not permanent.” She looked like she wanted to say something, but with the warm smile on your face, she couldn’t gather the courage to. Instead, she settled for a tight hug.

It was hard to look her in the eye anyway. The sadness she tried so hard to force down only added to your guilt, and you weren’t sure if you could think straight with all the regret.

“I’m sorry this happened.” you began. “Now that I’m hurt, you’re worrying for me.”

Emma pulled away as Norman gave a firm shake of his head. “None of this is anyone’s fault.” he stated. "None of us saw that coming, and even if we did, I’m not sure we’d be any good outwitting Mama on the spot like that.” He offered a gentle smile that made you feel just a little bit better.

-----

Gentle smiles. A warm summer breeze. Soft kisses. Tender touches. That was what reminded you of the boy in your dreams. Although you couldn’t recall his face every time you awoke, you remembered the fact that he was handsome and kind.

Gramps offered a warm smile. “Good morning.” You covered your yawn with a hand. “I’m assuming we’re here?”

He nodded. “Are you excited?” It was obvious Gramps knew the question. He only wanted to hear the answer from your mouth rather than from an assumption. As much as you wished to be excited for such a grand opportunity, you weren’t sure you’d like school. Well, how could you guess when you’ve never been to school in the first place?

At least from what you could recall.

“I still don’t know how to feel about this,” you quietly say. Gramps guides you along the walkway and out of the train, where you step out of the station and to the bustling streets of the city. You frown. Gramps said you were going to a boarding school, was it supposed to be somewhere as crowded as here?

From what you read, boarding schools needed large spaces to accommodate dormitories, classrooms, and sports fields. Was there such a thing as space in this congested collection of skyscrapers?

You shook your head to yourself and followed Gramps down whatever path his old-fashioned map led him to. He walked slow. Too slow for your liking. Not only that, but with all the people around, you couldn’t bear not to stick close to his side. What if he got lost? What if you got lost? Or kidnapped and sold on the black market for organs?

Maybe you were just paranoid.

The looming skyscrapers offered no comfort, and the cool breezes that sent shivers down your spine weren’t helping either. You hopped over a patch of ice and pulled your jacket closer just as Gramps came to a stop.

A lot of land stood in the middle of all the skyscrapers, where a pale field of grass stretched out over the acres of land. Buildings that looked like castles peppered themselves out in the form of classrooms, mess halls, and corridors.

You stood in the shadow of the tall brick walls. It separated the school from the rest of the city. An overwhelming feeling of bittersweet hope filled your system, as if you’ve stood in front of a wall like this before. Had you been here? No. You were sure this was your first time seeing the school.

“Take care Letha.” Gramps said. “Don’t forget to eat and exercise, as well as make some new friends. I expect you to call at least once a week, just so I know you’re doing fine.” You smiled a little, cheeks warm in embarrassment. “Gramps, I’m old enough to take care of myself.”

“I know, I know. Just...this is a big step for you.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“Be careful, and have fun. Even if you don’t remember anything, as long as you have fun, it’s fine.” He wrapped you in a tight hug. “And most importantly, I love you Letha.”

You basked in the warmth of his arms. You didn’t need to worry about your memories in that moment because you had Gramps. He was your world. Your family. What more could you ask for? But then he pulled away, and the warmth didn’t linger.

You were still incomplete.

The next day, you found yourself wandering the halls aimlessly, picking apart each detail and escape route in sight. The hall to your left had an exit to the school courtyard, a peaceful place with metal chairs and picnic tables. To your right sat another hall, which also had an exit to another courtyard. Then in front of you stood the front entrance, where the side exits fanned out in the halls next to it.

“Hey, you’re the new girl, right? Letha Meek-aye...Mikhaylov?”

You spun around faster than the speed of light. In front of you stood a girl, perhaps a year older with an unfriendly frown. She wore the generic school uniform: black skirt, long socks, white blouse, gray sweater vest, and a tie. Her bright, red locks stood out like a sore thumb. They curled past her shoulders in beach waves, framing her narrow, freckled face in rouge.

For a moment, you blanked out. When was the last time you spoke to someone, much less a teenager your age? Even though this girl wasn’t intimidating, it wasn’t like you wanted to talk to her. The point of coming here was to figure out if anything jogged your memory and then leave. It wasn’t playtime. “I’m new.” Your voice came out calmer than you felt. “Is that an issue?”

Despite the pointed look on her face, you had a feeling she was one of the nicer people in the area. She had a soft look in her green eyes, as if she understood what it felt like to be a new kid. “I’m Flanna Morris,” she said with a small smile. “Nice to meet you Letha.”

Flanna had an accent. By the hard ‘r’s and the elongated ‘oo’ sounds, you guessed she had to be from Ireland. Gramps told you it wasn’t too far from here, but still a while away.

You sent Flanna a cautious side eye. She was being too friendly. “Yeah, nice to meet you too...Flanna.” A hearty laugh that bellowed in her stomach echoed in the quiet corridors. “Look,” she said, “I’m not here to bully you. I just wanted to offer some help.”

Help? Yeah right. No one in this world offered help without asking for something in return. Besides Gramps maybe--but he was a special case, it didn’t count.

“Come on, I’ll show you around Letha.” The look on Flanna’s sweet face made it hard to decline. If you weren’t interested in seeing if there were any places you missed, then you would have declined. But perhaps Flanna could show you more than the shallow surface of this boarding school.

You passed to through the quiet corridors, where the sun shone through the windows overlooking the street. The sun rose over the horizon and up the edge of the skyscrapers’ base. Cars bustled about, and even through the thick brick walls, you heard all the honking and yelling of the early morning traffic.

“So, where’re you from?” Flanna inquired. You tugged on the strap of your bag’s shoulder strap. “Far away.”

“What do you mean by ‘far away’?”

“I mean the countryside.” you clarified. Flanna ‘ohhh’ed. “The city must be a huge change for you then, I know it was for me.” You knitted your brows together. So she was from the countryside in Ireland? That’s more than a simple change of scenery. No wonder Flanna wanted to help you.

“Okay, so here’s the science hall. Ms. Darsey is one of the best teachers you can have around. You’re a juniour, right? I’m a senior--if you couldn’t already tell...”

Flanna talked a lot. No, she didn’t just love talking, she loved explaining all her experiences with x, y, and z teacher, as well as what classroom and what day of the month it was. She had a wonderful memory, you had to admit, but that made her stories long. Her energy was like a breath of fresh air, and that red hair of hers sparkled like jewels in the morning light.

Flanna’s hair was fiery just like a girl’s you used to know. Her face wasn’t clear in your mind whenever you thought of her, but the joy she always brought you stayed. It made your heart warm. Flanna seemed to have a similar effect, but not as strongly as the girl you once knew.

“You have Mr. Dursley for English,” she noted. “Make sure you don’t stick out. He’s a big pain and if you’re late, he’ll give you a detention.” You raised a brow. Mr. Dursley detained teenagers for being late? What kind of nonsense was that? You decided to phone Gramps later and ask him if that were true. He’d know. Hopefully.

The look on your face made Flanna chuckle, but you had a feeling she didn’t understand your thought process. “Don’t worry,” she casually said. “You’ll be fine. I bet’cha Connor and James will be the first to get a detention. They’re both trouble makers--little devils. Especially James.” You stared up at Flanna’s bright, green eyes. They sparkled like the sun against her hair. You’ve seen that look before, the one of unsaid love and adoration. Long ago, someone looked at you like that.

But who?

You wracked your brain for answers. It was on the tip of the tongue. Right there--just in front of you. Yet it was as if something were preventing you from seeing the truth. The one postulate you knew stuck throughout the days you’ve forgotten who you once were.

Backtrack. Backtrack.

A boy. Light hair. Soft eyes. Kind smile. A laugh that was like music. And the calling of your name.

“(Y--n)!”

Yes, that was the sound of his voice, right? Or maybe it was a stranger’s instead, someone’s you’ve heard on the street. Then whose name was that? Was it even a name to begin with? Maybe it was a word instead and you misheard it as a name. That thought made your heart throb in the worst way possible. Ice filled your veins, and you found yourself pausing to stare out the crystal, clear windows.

“Something wrong?” Flanna inquired. You blinked away the haze and turned to her with a shake of your head. “Just nervous.” A bright smile burst onto Flanna’s lips. “Ah, I see. No worries, you’ll do great. And if you don’t it’s your first day, right? Nothin’ wrong with messin’ up a little.”

You wished you could believe Flanna, but something deep in your heart said otherwise. A slip-up could cost someone more than their reputation. Possibly their life. You couldn’t speak from experience, but you were sure you’d seen a sacrifice. Long ago. Far away in the distance.

Flanna stopped in front of your first period class. “We still have about fifteen minutes before school starts. Everyone’s probably in the cafeteria eating breakfast or fooling around in the field. I recommend you come early to class so you don’t get caught up in the crowd.” And with that, she waved, turning on her heel to hurry away. “I’ll see you during lunch! We have it together, so I’ll come find you in the cafe!”

She rounded a sharp corner and disappeared, leaving you alone in the quiet hall. You peeked in through the open door. At a long desk sat a teacher, who stood at the notice of your presence. She wore thin glasses on her old squarish face, a white blouse with a tie, a woolen navy blazer, and black trousers with heels to match.

The teacher had a kind face, with eyes that were soft with years of wear and tear. The smile on her lips said it all--she had seen things. Many things. “Welcome, I assume you’re Letha Mikhaylov?” She had a crinkle in her voice like the edges of her eyes when she smiled. It complimented her kindly face.

“Yes.” you replied. “That’s me.”

“Well I’m Mrs. Walker.” She motioned for you to come in, that sweet smile still on her lips. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve been informed that you have amnesia. May I ask how much you remember?” You folded your hands together. It was the least you could do to look less nervous.

“I remember skills, knowledge, and the arts. I do not recall my original name or what my life was like before, but I am still highly-functional. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Walker. ”

The way you worded your sentences was off-putting to the teacher. It wasn’t normal for high school students to be so in-line, much less well-off with their manners.

From the report she read, you were taken in by Alex Mikhaylov, a writer who lived in an old, deserted town. He claimed he’d been trying to help you re-gain your memories for nearly a year, but from the looks of it, there wasn’t much to go off of.

Mrs. Walker took a seat at her neat desk. A pencil sharpener sat at the corner along with a tissue box, stapler, tape dispenser, and a plastic name plaque. In bolded letters it said, Mrs. Walker. Of course, in cursive. A few photos were cramped by her computer, where she stood there, smiling with a young girl and a man. Mrs. Walker looked to be around twenty-eight to thirty in that photo.

You stood by her desk awkwardly. Were you supposed to sit in the back? Near the window? Or in the front? The sinking feeling of unfamiliarity plagued your mind as you ran a hand through your locks.

There weren’t any other students here besides you.

“You may take a seat wherever you’d like Letha,” Mrs. Walker said. “I do not assign seats in this class, but if there is an issue, I can if you’d like. Is there anything I should know about you?” You shook your head and took a seat by the window. The football fields, frost-bitten and white, stretched out as far as the eye could see. A little to the left of that were the dormitories. Red brick walls and sparkling clean window panes, just like every other building at the school.

Winter was a wonderful season, but you wished it weren’t so cold all the time. Maybe if there were a bit of snow, it would cheer you up, jog your memory even. “I’m not sure if I have anything of importance.” Your voice echoed in the deserted classroom like a bell. “But I hope I can do my best.”

A smile broke out onto Mrs. Walker’s lips. “Don’t hope, do.”

And so you did. You vowed to do what you could with whatever you could. You weren’t going to hope to do your best, or hope to find your memories because you would. They’d come back to you, and you were going to do everything in your power to get them back.

PART FOUR COMING SOON [GIVE ME LIKE THREE DAYS TO ADD A BONUS PORTION BECAUSE I LOVE YOU GUYS] -->UPDATE: PART FOUR HERE <--

#tpn #tpn norman x reader #tpn ray #tpn emma #ynn norman #ynn emma #ynn ray #ynn isabella #ray the promised neverland #emma the promised neverland #norman the promised neverland #the promised neverland x reader #anime x reader #x y/n #fanfic #tpn fanfic

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enhyupn · 3 years

Text

the perfect date! chapter one

masterlist | next

a series in which enhypen’s 02s competitive side shines through when trying to get your attention. the only solution to end this tiring rivalry? three dates with each of them in the course of three weeks.

paring: 02s x gn!reader

word count: 3k

genre: fluff, angst, high school!au, someone’s gonna end up heartbroken

warnings: swearing, violence is mentioned

ask to be on taglist, updates are irregular

a/n i literally had to dig this out of my drafts so i don’t even know myself what i’ve written PLSSS

taglist: @dchannie17 @simluvbot @jaeyuni @neocrush

falling in love at the age of twelve wasn’t what you were expecting while learning basic algebra. being heartbroken at the age of thirteen while reciting shakespeare was also not as expected. the cause of both of these unforgettable moments? park jongseong, or otherwise known as jay to almost everyone around you. your first love was something that stuck with you, even in the present. he was your seat mate in three of your classes and the person you would ask for the homework right before it’s due date. it was a one sided crush, it was quite obvious to you. he was popular, sporty and incredibly talkative, you were one out of maybe twenty people that had a huge bulging crush on him.

at age fourteen you vowed to forget about him, the previous year he had moved to america to improve his english abilities which had put you in a miserable mood for almost all of your middle school life. who else was supposed to give you the math homework? how were you supposed to feel excited to go to school when jay wasn’t going to be there? your barely-a-teen mindset made you think you were never going to get over him.

flashing forward to freshmen year of high school, new school, new class and a clean slate to basically pretend you were a completely different person. no more being dependent on other people! no more trying to do anything to get friends! no more—

“hi, my name’s jake” oh boy.

and that’s how jake sim entered your life. it was his australian accent peaking through his words as he flashed you an energetic smile that pulled you in. you could of fallen for him at that instance, well you could of fallen for him throughout your years of friendship but the returning thought of your first love entirely stopped that process. jake sim was like a breath of fresh air, he was everywhere you went and had your back for everything.

you were his best friend and you thought of him like one too, you two were practically glued to one another. of course you had side comments, gossip that the two of you were dating or one of you two had an one sided crush (the latter part of that sentence we aren’t going to get that much into) but it didn’t make you two feel awkward or anything like that. with jake you almost forgot about jay (algebra and shakespeare being the things that stimulates the memory of him). although it wasn’t like jake was a rebound, you think yourself you’ve felt happier when you were around jake. i mean jake’s definitely popular, rivalling jay’s popularity in middle school even. if you asked anyone in your school who they’ve had a crush on, jake sim is number one on that list. he had some type of air around him, always being incredibly positive, he quite literally radiated the colour yellow. maybe you had a type when it came to people you associated with.

the close second on that list was maybe the complete opposite to jake in terms of their public image to the school. park sunghoon was the class president in your class. academically gifted, popular with the female population in your school, a talented figure skater, a stereotypical cold and distant beauty, there were a lot of layers to sunghoon. you personally had never really talked to him, the only time being when he had dropped papers on the ground in the hallways, maybe a few months ago. you helped him pick them up before carrying them with him to the teacher’s staff room. even then, you two had barely shared any words during that whole incident besides a “thank you”.

still, you could say you respected sunghoon. i mean who could have the energy to do his whole schedule besides him? you definitely could not. plus the way he was one of the most popular bachelors added to his busy schedule. the most recent valentine’s day was the proof as well as it was record breaking in your terms of your classes history with the day. having jake and sunghoon meant there were a lot of people trying to confess their feelings entering your classroom. last year, jake was stopped twenty three times the whole day, beating out sunghoon’s twenty sudden confessions. this year, there a sudden decline in jake’s confessions, a whopping three people only expressing their feelings desperately to him as he politely declined. sunghoon’s number rose by about ten people, expected but still a little shocking.

it wasn’t like the two of them cared about it, the only thing they did care about though was being polite when rejecting people. you couldn’t really sympathise with jake or sunghoon whenever they had to prepare yet another rejection, the only confession you’ve received being from yoon hyunsuk that was quite awkward considering he was a family friend and you saw him almost every week after you had rejected him.

anyways, returning to present time where you were doing your regular daily routine for a weekday. it always went waking up way too early, under eating breakfast in hopes to get the bus on time, meeting jake on the bus, walking to class with him and trying to not fall asleep in the middle of math class. it started off completely normal, maybe a little too normal.

“did you hear?” jake whispered in your ear. the two of you were supposed to individually practice questions but the chattery side of jake honestly got the best of him at moments like these.

“what is it?” you reply back quietly.

“a transfer student is coming in after lunch ends, one from america” now that really got your attention. you turn to him with your eyes wide in surprise, curiosity taking over you completely as you ignore the difficult question in front of you.

“did you see them?” jake couldn’t help but feel the sudden heat rush to his face as your sparkling eyes met his. “how do you even know this?”.

“ryujin told me plus, i saw a bit of him at the principal’s office” you looked behind him, trying to get a glimpse of the mentioned girl. the concentrated look on her face as she tried to solve the maths problem was evidence to you that she hadn’t heard her name being mentioned by jake. “said something about bleached hair that was definitely going to get the teachers mad”.

“now you got me excited” your small smile only sending butterflies to his stomach. you turn your head back down to face the still blank piece of paper, deciding that it was about time you started on that question.

“y’know he kinda looked familiar” the questioning tone in jake’s voice caught your attention, turning back to him in confusion.

“what do you mean?” a pout formed on your face. more confusion took over your face when you realised jake looked away from you quite fast, his ears turning a slight shade of pink.

“i— i don’t know” he silently cursed himself for letting himself fall deeper into his one sided crush from only small moments. his sudden black mind caused him to forget what he was meant to say to you, only leaving you puzzled by his words.

jake sitting opposite to you as you ate your unsettlingly warm sandwich, was really the only thing really going on during lunch that say. although weirdly enough, park sunghoon’s glances and staring was a new addition to your lunch time. even without directly looking at him, you could feel his eyes as they dug into the back of your head.

“you know you can relax, sunghoon’s not gonna bite you” jake commented on your stiffness. you bit your lip anxiously when you realised how loud he was being, not wanting sunghoon to know he was currently the topic of conversation between the two of you.

“if you speak any louder he might hear you” you angrily whispered to his face as you rolled your eyes. the boy chuckled before placing a small ball of rice into his mouth.

“he won’t idiot” jake tells you with maybe little too much confidence. you noticed that sunghoon had looked away from you abruptly, his cheeks visibly reddening as he faced his desk. “oh”.

“why are you like this?” you expressed you concerns. jake shrugged his shoulders, not understanding where you were coming from. “i should be excited for the new student, not trying to tame you from embarrassing our class president!”, your voice lowering at the last few words.

“i think he wants to tell you something”

“i think i want you to shut up” you muttered and you took another bite from your sandwich, wincing at the warm tomato and soggy lettuce that came into contact with your mouth.

jake was about to fire back but was only stopped by your phone violently vibrating on the table. your eyes widen in embarrassment as you frantically tried to get to it. you turn your phone to look at the screen, a notification telling you someone was calling you. jake tried to take a peek at your phone, only abandoning the plan when he saw you glare at him.

“hey yeojin” a small smile forming on your lips when reciting your middle school friend’s name. im yeojin was your best friend up until high school when her parents made her go to an all girls boarding school instead of your co-ed high school. she hated it so much when it was initially brought up by them but from the looks of it now, she’s actually enjoying herself. yeojin was the only person, excluding jake, that ever knew about your crush on jay. jake found out when the two of you were looking through old middle school pictures, you pointed at jay in a class photo and that’s the story on how jake knows about jay’s existence. “what’s up?”.

“i’m not supposed to be on my phone” her voice was frantic. you knew from her many, many letters that her school was strict when it came to personal phones. she was only allowed it everyday for thirty minutes during lunch on the weekdays, three hours on the weekends. “but, i have some exciting news for you”.

“what is it?” jake could see your eyes glisten in curiosity. he chuckled to himself as he placed his chin in his palm, his full attention being placed onto you.

“guess”

“i can’t believe you’re doing this right now” you squinted in annoyance at her playfully attitude.

“i was kidding” yeojin’s contagious laugh caught up to you, making it look like you forgot about her joke on you. “but you know how you’re old instagram account got deleted because of—”

“don’t say it” you interrupted through gritted teeth. jake laughed loudly at your reaction, catching the attention of sunghoon yet again.

“anyways, and you basically lost all of our middle school classes handles?”

“yes, i remember it all a little too well” embarrassment laced through your words as you remembered the never-to-be-mentioned-again memory.

“anyways so jay...” your eyes lit up at the mention of his name, an unsettling feeling in jake’s stomach appearing due to your expression. “he’s back!”.

“he’s back?” you stood up from your seat in surprise. your class looked at you in concern before you apologised as you embarrassing lowered yourself down to your seat. “you’re not kidding me right?”.

“why would i lie?” you could feel yeojin’s eyes rolling through the phone. “oh shit, patrol’s back. gotta go, i’ll send a letter soon—”

jake watched as you ended the call staying seated with your eyes widened, unable to process what had happen. you couldn’t pinpoint any of the emotions you were feeling, were you happy? anxious? scared? you had no clue. you bite your lip, hoping the action can help your blank mind.

“so—”

“is this 3-A?” a loud voice entering the class interrupted jake, causing the boy to sigh out of frustration.

you turned your head in the direction. you felt yourself shake in more shock when you realised who the person at the entrance was, and from the way they looked back at you, he realised who you were to. you abruptly looked away, facing the window on your left with your face burning up as you held up a hand to cover your face.

jake’s puzzled expression took over his face before putting the pieces together. his heart was beating at such a fast rate that he felt breathless, he didn’t think he was at all ready to see his crush’s first love entering their own classroom.

he watched as sunghoon did his usual mannerly class president thing, standing up from his seat all professional and kind before making his way to jay with an open hand for him to shake.

“hello, you’re earlier than expected” sunghoon smiled, unsure if it was genuine or not due to the fact the boy in front of him didn’t even acknowledge his presence. he dropped his hand before letting out a quiet irritated sigh, trying to figure out what he had his eyes on.

even with sunghoon’s growing annoyed expression, jay’s eyes were still trained on you. it was like you were frozen, no muscle in your body allowed you to move as you blankly stared outside the window. the only thing moving was your eyes shutting completely as you felt footsteps coming your way, instantly knowing who it belonged to.

“y/n” a cheery voice made it’s way to jay’s words.

sunghoon raised an eyebrow at the two of you, not entirely following this whole situation. how did he know you? why did you seem so embarrassed? bashful even? and why was jake staring at jay like he just killed his family?

“j-jay hey, y-you’re back” you finally turned your head, however still unable to look at him in the eyes. jay chuckled at the way you tripped over your words, memories of the two of you from middle school playing in his head. he glanced down beside you, the empty seat almost begging him to sit there.

you almost feel yourself jump into your seat when you noticed jay was pulling back the chair beside you as he prepared himself to sit down. at this point jake’s face was visibly red, glaring at jay for reasons that cannot be exactly explained and sunghoon’s feet had even brought him all the way to your desk meaning he had a full view of this whole mess. you four had the whole classes attention, even with some whispering to each other about you.

“it’s been a while” jay smiled through his words as he sat down, his position facing you as you struggled to make eye contact. you could feel yourself sweating from the unbearable heat coming from your cheeks, your head still blank unable to think properly.

“you two know each other?” sunghoon asked curiously as he placed his hand on his hip. you don’t know why but you cursed sunghoon silently in your head for asking that question, the thought of jay telling him you were only his friend pained you.

“yeah, middle school classmates” jay finally acknowledged the boy’s presence. sunghoon nodded in reply as he scanned your expression, unable to understand how you were feeling. “i had— i can’t say it it’s too embarrassing actually” jay rubbed his neck embarrassingly before turning away in embarrassment, only for his eyes to meet jakes.

“no, carry on” jake’s few words came out as a little passive aggressive but didn’t particularly offend jay in any way. it was quite obvious to everyone but you that jake was being a little jealous, possessive maybe from the way he glared at jay and sunghoon, who frankly didn’t really do anything up until this point.

“oh okay...” jay didn’t know why he felt nervous. maybe it was cause jake couldn’t keep his glare off of him or he was about to regret his next few words. “i had the biggest crush on y/n”.

now that got your attention. with wide eyes your eyes made contact with his at last, his cheeks were tinted pink and he had a bashful smile spread across his lips. you could even see jake in the corner of your eyes closing his mouth as he tried to recover from the shock. while sunghoon, who was right behind jay, looked like he wasn’t completely over the shocking revelation.

“i—” you felt speechless. this was the first time you’ve heard anything about this, you didn’t even think you were ever going to hear those words. you once again tried to open your mouth in an attempt to reply but was just met with nothing.

“they didn’t like me back though” jay continued. you looked at him like he was crazy, your eyebrows raised with confusion taking over your face.

“but i—”

“y/n can we talk....” jake’s voice interrupting your soon to be confession as he stared at you with a serious expression. you turned to him, once again not fully processing this whole situation. “...outside the classroom?”.

you glanced back to jay who looked visibly irritated, rolling his eyes as he ran his fingers through his hair. sunghoon just stood behind him, staring at jake with what looked to be some sort of fear. letting out a sigh, you stood up from your seat as you looked jake in the eyes.

“let’s go outside jake” you were slightly thankful for his sudden request due to you not wanting to be stuck in that suffocating environment. you watched as he stood up from his seat, his expression changing into quite an anxious one.

the curiosity didn’t leave you as you followed jake out of the classroom, you even heard your classmates whisper to each other as you passed them. you didn’t even want to look back to see the face of jay, you had ended your long awaited reunion short just to go talk to your best friend by the staircase. jake glanced around the area to make sure nobody was there to listen to what he had to say.

“thanks for getting me out of there—”

“i like you” those three words almost made you faint on the spot.

was it time to wake up now?

#enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen headcanons #enhypen timestamps #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fanfiction #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff

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coffee--writes · 3 years

Text

Cherry

Pairing: Lily Evans x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Angsty but nothing more

Requested: No. It is a song fic for Cherry by Harry Styles. I would also like to say the music notes headers are to show the instrumental portions of the song which I believe add to the fic.

Summary: In which, you struggle to move on from you and Lily’s past relationship.

♪-♪-♪-♪-♪-♪

The cool air bit at your neck under the willow tree that day.

Leaves fell majestically by your side as you faced the cold, a scarf around your shoulders, mittens covering your palms and boots on your feet.

But although your body was protected from the bitter chill of November, nothing could save you from the frigid emptiness inside your mind.

It seemed Lily Evans had made a large indentation in your life.

For worse or for better.

Don’t you call him “baby”

We’re not talking lately

Don’t you call him what you used to call me

James Potter.

Oh, how you had hated him.

You remembered his pestering presence. Each and every Hogsmeade trip you and Lily had spent together was always greeted with glasses and a smirk you had grown to hate but Lily would grow to love.

At first you had been angry. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that James Potter fancied Lily Evans. He didn’t try to hide it, in fact he was proud to be rejected by her. But months later, when Lily had moved on, you realized you couldn’t blame him. No one had known of those secret moments shared between you and Lily Evans. No one knew of the stolen kisses in hidden corridors, the late night rendezvous in the kitchen or the hands that were intertwined under the table. James Potter hadn’t known that those days he spent pestering were more than just an outing with a friend.

You couldn’t stay mad at him.

It wouldn’t have been fair.

But you were angry and that had been the problem. You couldn’t be mad at James for his ignorance. There were days you desperately wished you could be mad at Lily Evans. She had always insisted on keeping your relationship a secret. Few people knew of the love shared between the two of you. Only Lily’s trusted friends. She had insisted yours would tell someone in the end.

Begrudgingly, you had agreed to her words. Most of your relationship was spent in secret or in the confidence of Mary, Marlene, and Dorcas, who you soon grow to love dearly. You knew now that Lily hadn’t been fair. But yet, you couldn’t find the power to be angry with her.

So you stayed angry at yourself.

A month had gone by since you had ended things and the few glimpses you saw of Lily she was linked hand in hand with James. You watched as he pressed kisses to her cheeks in front of the world, tucking her cherry red hair behind her ear. They always sat tucked away in the corner, surrounded by ever growing flowers. No matter how far away from them you were you could always hear her whispers to him. That magical word that used to belong to you and only you.

“Baby” she would say, her lips forming the vowels perfectly.

And each time the word was said James Potter would smile and you would only look away, your mind lingering back to those moments when she had called you hers.

I… I confess

I can tell that you are at your best

I’m selfish so I’m hating it

Walking down the sun lit halls had become bittersweet.

For there she was, walking side by side with James Potter, a large smile on her face. You hadn’t seen that smile in a long time. In the beginning it had always been there. Her smile was beautiful, a perfect compliment to that cherry red hair that you loved so deeply. You had loved that you were the person who got to see it the most.

But now James saw it every hour of every day as you had once before. Maybe he thought about it each night as he went to sleep as you had done and continued to do each night. Lily’s smile had left you a long time ago and now it seemed to have returned.

And although her smile produced a warm feeling in the pit of your chest, your mind wallowed in a bitter cold due to the fact that she was smiling without you. Her figure disappeared from view and that selfish pit turned into a bitter hatred towards yourself.

You were happy for Lily.

At least you were trying to be.

I notice that

There’s a piece of you in how I dress

Take it as a compliment

Lily had buried herself deeper than you had thought.

It became clear to you when you had shuffled through your collection of clothes. Your typical outfit consisted of frayed jeans and a cardigan; a basic look. Today you were going to Hogsmeade and although you were going with a friend you decided to get dressed up for the occasion.

That was when you had noticed the floral pattern that had once littered your floor.

Lily had loved sundresses. You remembered shopping hours looking for the perfect one. “It has to match my hair and eyes.” she would say. Each time you would roll your eyes but in reality she had always looked gorgeous in every one she tried on. She had soon pestered you into buying one.

“Come on, Y/N/N. You’ll look amazing in the flower one.”

So you had tried it on and the pattern had grown on you. It didn’t help that her face always lit up when you wore it. Now she was gone and you could only stare at the blue flower petals that blossomed on the contrasting white of the fabric. Time was ticking and you wouldn’t let thoughts of her spoil your day.

You slipped on the dress quickly.

You couldn’t deny she had amazing taste.

Don’t you call him “baby”

We’re not talking lately

Don’t you call him what you used to call me

Her actions hurt.

Ignoring you, that was.

Very few people questioned the drifting friendship between you two. Before you would walk together, side by side, hips bumping each other softly. Now, you walked opposite ends of the corridor, those emerald green eyes never meeting yours.

In a way it was a blessing. The lack of words between you and her. You knew deep down that if you had to look into those eyes again or watch the freckles on her face dance that your chilled exterior would soon fall apart. You’d remember those nights spent in the greenhouses watching as the magical lunar flowers budded in the streaks of moonlight. You’d recall the music you once danced to in your home over the summer as the sun set in the English countryside.

Emerald green eyes and cherry red hair would lead you to remember every kiss and every study date. Days spent in grassy fields on sunny days or stormy nights cuddled by the fire. You were even reminded of the smallest things like the exchanging of books, a tap to the nose and long conversations that were lost in the void of the night. Memories would flood your mind and you would soon drown in their depth.

For once, you were thankful to be ignored.

♪-♪-♪-♪-♪-♪

Lily had been your only friend.

That was a slight exaggeration but it felt that way. You talked to other people and they were kind. But none of them had the connection you and Lily had once shared. Without her by your side it was as if you were travelling with only half a heart. Half a soul. Lily had acted as your compass and without her you lost all sense of direction.

So you watched her from the window.

There she was, laughing loudly alongside Potter and his friends. Their feet left prints on the shore of the lake. They splashed at her, an act that a younger Lily would have scolded them for. But she looked so happy, a smile shining bright for her beloved Potter. Your hand rested on your chin and a sad smile made its way to your face.

Their laughs echoed in the blank slate of your mind.

I... I just miss

I just miss your accent and your friends

Did you know I still talk to them?

Today was one of the rare moments you felt completely at peace.

Marlene, Mary, and Dorcas walked at your sides, small smiles on their lips. You hadn’t seen them in a while as they had always been closer to Lily and you knew they preferred her company. But even after you and Lily had fallen off they had acted as your friends.

After walking down the cobblestone streets of Hogsmeade you finally asked the question that hung at the tip of your tongue. “How is she?”

All their eyes averted to the ground. Marlene was the first one to speak up, nervously playing with the ends of her blonde hair, “Good.” she said simply, “She seems to be doing good.”

Her words were confirmed by a nod from Mary and a sigh from Dorcas. You nodded in return, pushing your hands into your pockets, “Is she happy?”

Marlene smiled sadly, “Yeah.” she replied, “Very.”

“Good.” was the only answer you supplied.

You could feel the peaceful day you had envisioned falling apart. Mentions of Lily sent your mind into a spiraling void of emotion in which you had hoped to avoid but instead you had wrestled the tiger head on. Unfortunately, the tiger had won.

And now she was coming back to gloat.

“Marls!”

You froze as did the three other girls. Her voice rang in your ears. You hadn’t heard it in a long time. At least not this clear. You could hear the sweet tone of her voice that no one else in the world seemed to hold. Each syllable, as melodious as a birds song. Mary’s eyes fell on you, watching as you shrunk away from the scene.

Her voice was the last sound you heard as you walked away from the pain she embodied so deeply.

Does he take you walking ‘round his parents�� gallery?

Compared to James Potter you didn’t have much to offer.

The Potters were a well-known family. Rich but humble. Pure but not prejudice. They were the picture perfect wizarding family with their abundance of talent and Quidditch skills being passed to their son; a bright boy with a knack for causing trouble.

You weren’t anything special. A single mother who worked around the clock to keep you supported. An absent father who had left when you were a child. Your life wasn’t tragic but it was far from perfect. You could never offer Lily the world in her hands. Each gift came with a price; an extra hour of work for your mother, a summer job for you to work.

Lily had always understood and she hadn’t asked for more than you could offer. She had appreciated the small things you would give her with a smile and a kiss. It was one of your favorite things about her. She had the unique ability to understand and be content whilst you felt pent up with your lack of wealth and inability to supply her with wonders.

Surprisingly, whenever you passed her in the halls and saw the necklace Potter had bought her around her neck, you felt happy. Although anger always lingered in your heart, you were glad someone was able to give her what she deserved.

It wasn’t you and you were slowly learning to accept that.

Don’t you call him “baby”

We’re not talking lately

Don’t you call him what you used to call me

Your final year at Hogwarts passed by in a blur. You watched Lily Evans slowly fall in love with the boy who had always wanted her. She smiled all the time now, her eyes never wandered towards yours and as much as it pained you that they didn’t, you hoped she had found peace.

Don’t you call him “baby”

We’re not talking lately

Don’t you call him what you used to call me

As for you, peace seemed to be out of question.

Peace was watching her be happy with someone who wasn’t you. It was watching her relationship from afar and catching moments where the two of you had gone wrong but James had gotten it right. Even without her by your side, Lily Evans played a major role in your life. Your eyes always wandered into her life where you weren’t wanted anymore.

You watched her take James to the end of year ball. His friends became her friends and she quickly took after them slightly. She owned a leather jacket and often studied with Remus in her spare time. She baked with Peter and you desperately wished that somewhere… somehow, you fit into the equation.

But you didn’t.

♪-♪-♪-♪-♪-♪

So you watched her graduate top of the year, cherry red hair blazing as she smiled.

You read of her joining the Order of the Phoenix, Dorcas expressing her worries in the letters she sent.

You stared emptily at the letter from Dorcas, sending news of James and Lily’s wedding.

Nothing could move you off the floorboards of your flat.

♪-♪-♪-♪-♪-♪

The morning of August 11th was foggy but in the hills of Scotland they were shining on a bride with cherry red hair and her groom.

You hadn’t been invited to Lily’s wedding and for that you were grateful. You knew that today was the day. Dorcas and you had kept up correspondence and she knew you well enough to know that you were curious of Lily’s affairs.

That morning you found yourself sitting in front of a box of memories. What stuck out to you was a tape. No label was on it but a small heart. Curiosity tickled your mind and after a minute you stuck the tape into the cassette player.

First came the static.

Then her voice.

“Is it on?” you said, your voice coming through muffled on the speaker, “Yeah.”

Her voice was muffled as well, but you knew it by heart. Her melodious laugh followed and just from that you could picture her hair, the color of cherries and her eyes sparkling like emeralds. “Well, Y/N… are you going to say something.”

You froze, concentrating deeply to hear through the static, “I guess I’ll say… I love you Lily Evans!”

She laughed and it was the realest thing you had heard in months, “You’re so cheesy, Y/N/N.”

“Well, one day we’ll listen to this and you won’t be saying that.” you reply with a chuckle.

“Alright. Alright. I guess we’ll say goodbye for now.” she said, her words burning in your mind.

“Goodbye!”

The static returned once more and the weight of the world seemed to fall on your shoulders.

You finally let out a long-awaited sob.

♪-♪-♪-♪-♪-♪

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sourbkg · 4 years

Text

𝚗𝚘 𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚕𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚜

[𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎]

➪ synopsis: a villain hits you with a quirk that makes you forget things.

➪ pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

➪ warnings: angst, cursing, reader & bkg are 3rd years!, for plot reasons: dadzawa/dadzashi, eri is ur lil sis bc i said so <3

➪ word count: 4k+

➪ a/n: i think this is the longest fic i’ve ever written. ty @bokunokangae + @a-boy-is-a-gun for being my beta reader ily guys.

No one would ever guess Bakugou Katsuki was a sucker for planning dates. Or maybe he’s just a sucker for you. Regardless, he’s good at anything he does, and this includes taking you on an unforgettable trip in the city for your belated one year anniversary.

You never thought you’d date Bakugou, having joined U.A. late in your first year and getting belittled by the blonde; claiming you’d fall behind quickly due to not being there from the start, and singling you out in an effort to wear down your will. You butted heads constantly, and when everyone found out who your parents were, things only escalated. You don’t know when, you don’t know why, and you definitely don’t know how, but by some miracle, the bickering simmered down and began to mold itself into something different.

Something entirely new that neither of you would expect.

By your second year, you’re dating, and that leads to where you stand now- in your third year, holding the blonde’s hand while walking to the next meticulously planned date spot. Bakugou gave no hints as to where your next location would be, despite your persistence in asking.

“Not even a hint?” You question, tilting your head to the side. The streets are empty, save for a couple stragglers who pay you no mind, and the warm night air keeps your spirits high.

“Nothing.” He replied, not looking at you. He can feel your pout.

“How about if I guess?”

“Nope.”

“Are we going to the record shop I like? Or maybe to the food truck with all the spicy noodles? Or maybe-”

“I’m not gonna tell you if you’re right, so you might as well stop.” He rolls his eyes. You huff.

“Fine, fine, I’ll let you keep your surprises-”

A yelp is drawn from your lips as you pass an alley; something- no, someone pulling you into the darkness. Your grip on Bakugou’s hand is lost at the sudden game of tug-o-war, and despite your training, it takes a moment for you to process what exactly is happening. Bakugou is quick to act, attempting to take you back from the offender's embrace, but the sight of metal being pressed against your neck makes him hesitate, before he’s stopping altogether.

“What do you want?” He asks, voice rough while his palms spark. His eyes continue to look over your form, to the person who has you hostage. An opening. All he needs is an opening.

You feel nothing but helpless, attempting the shy away from the blade that presses against your skin. The man holding you gives a laugh. You don’t find any of this funny.

“You may not know me, but I know you- Child of Aizawa.”

Everything clicks quickly as he continues to speak- over-explaining as villains do. How your father threw him in jail, how he fought tooth and nail to get break out, and how he planned on ruining one of his most important things in his life- you.

Villains who seek vengeance through others are nothing but cowards. Someone using you against your parents is truly the worst, especially now as it interferes with your date with Bakugou.

“Your bone to pick is with my father,” you can’t help but bite, wincing when the metal nips deeper into your skin, “I don’t have anything to do with his affairs.”

It’s not entirely the truth, but you’re buying yourself time. You can see the calculations running through Bakugou’s head, the possible ways he can go about this without you getting hurt- you just need to get him an opening. A time where you’re out of the way so he can give this guy hell.

“Maybe,” the villain's breath fans against your cheek, you hold in a gasp at the feeling, “but I’m sure you can imagine the look on his face when he sees his child, beaten and bloodied due to his own faults.”

You’re throwing your head back at the man’s face without a second thought, hearing the satisfying crack of his nose. The knife splices against your skin as you jerk away, but it’s not the worst injury you could’ve sustained through such a reckless move. You wrangle your body out of his grip just in time for Bakugou to whirl past you, unleashing a hellfire of punches while you press a hand to your neck.

There’s only a moment of reprieve, before Bakugou’s being thrown to the side like a ragdoll. You can only stare as he’s slammed into the wall of the alleyway, while the villain stands as if his punches did nothing. But you know your boyfriend. He’ll get up and finish this guy, he just needs a moment-

The villain's eyes settle on you. You make out a smirk forming under his hoodie.

“Now where were we?”

Your quirk is a simple one. It allows you to move through shadows, but there’s a couple rules; you must have a destination chosen to exit- if not, you’ll just be spit out in a random shadowed area. Your eyes always take a moment to adjust when you come back to the ‘real’ world, and you’re always so cold after going through the realm of shadows. It’s dark. It depletes a lot of your energy.

Bakugou still isn’t moving.

Your eyes flicker to your boyfriend, then you feel yourself being swallowed by the shadows. Your chosen point of exit is right behind the villain, in hopes of knocking him unconscious before he can do anymore damage. It seems he’s done his research on you, on your quirk, because he’s prepared. You’re unready for his retaliation, grabbing you by the throat and slamming you against the ground.

Clawing at his wrist does nothing, kicking at him does nothing. He’s unaffected by any weak attempt you have at fighting back, grip on your neck only increasing. There’s no shadows for you to disappear into, there’s nothing in the alley to aid you, and your struggling is just getting weaker and weaker the longer his hands cover your windpipe.

He holds one hand over your face, letting you watch as his fingertips glow a dark red color. His quirk. You know nothing about his quirk. He grins as you struggle with new vigor.

“My quirk is nothing special,” he turns his hand so his palm faces up, examining his own fingers, “but the backlash is extraordinary. How would you feel about forgetting the people you care about? How will you parents feel, knowing they’re the cause for this sudden amnesia?”

He presses the tips of his fingers against your temple. You don’t feel anything at first, before you’re feeling it all at once. Memories flash in front your eyes, only to disappear into a blank slate seconds later. There’s an explosion going off that feels like it’s miles away, but the pressure being removed from your neck tells you it’s Bakugou. Your mind goes white, then you’re unconscious.

When you wake up, your adrenaline is spiked. Sitting up and looking around hurts like a bitch, but you’d be damned if you weren’t ready to fight again. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the fluorescent lights above you, and the blurred voice of someone telling you to calm down brings your attention to the right.

“Oh my god, we didn’t know when you’d-”

It’s Hizashi, you can make out the blonde hair falling over his shoulders from his loose bun. Blinking a few times helps your eyes, and you rub at them with the heel of your palm, looking around the room once more.

A hospital. You’re in a hospital. But why? You don’t….. Oh. Oh.

The villain really did some damage to you and Bakugou, huh?

Why were you with Bakugou in the first place?

“-an you hear me? Do I need to go get the doctor? Sho just left to get some coffee, I wish he w-”

“I’m okay.” You say, voice rough and throat dry. Hizashi offers a bottle of water that you take gratefully.

“‘M gonna go get the doctor, let them know you’re-”

You’re reaching out to grab his arm without realizing, grip weak, but it’s enough to make him falter and look at you.

“Please don’t leave me.”

It’s a whispered request, yet he hears it loud and clear. With a nod, he’s sitting back down and pressing a button beside your bed to call for a nurse. Your mind is still frazzled, but you find enough sense to ask a few questions.

How long you’ve been unconscious, if they caught the villain, what happened after you passed out.

Three days, no, Bakugou called an ambulance before he passed out himself were the answers you received. You open your mouth to ask another question, maybe why you were with the blonde, before a doctor steps in with Shouta.

Shouta looks tired. Both of them do, but he gives a small smile when he realizes you’re awake.

The doctor introduces herself, and explains what they believe is wrong with you. They think you have a concussion and ask you simple questions. The year, what school you go to, what year you’re in, what class, and if you can name some people for her.

She starts with the two men sitting beside your bed.

“Do you know who these two are?”

You nod, “Hizashi Yamada and Shouta Aizawa.”

“And their relationship to you?” She prompts.

“My parents.”

“Good, okay, that’s good.”

She has Shouta and Hizashi show you pictures of your 3-B classmates and people who you should know. Eri, Kendo, Tetsu, Shinsou, everyone has a name to their face, and the doctor seems satisfied with each response.

Then, Hizashi’s pulling out his phone and showing you a photo. It has your brows furrowing and eyes glancing over to your parents.

“Do you know who this is?” Hizashi asks, shaking the device lightly.

You nod, “Yeah, that’s Bakugou but… why am I kissing him?”

The photo is very clearly you, taken from a mirror in your dorm. You stand on your toes while Bakugou stands with his arms crossed, your lips pressing against his cheek.

Hizashi and Shouta share a glance between each other before looking back at you.

“Do you know what he is to you?” Aizawa asks.

“An acquaintance?” You feel bare as they stare at you, “Right?”

“May I speak with one of you outside, please?” The doctor asks, writing something on her clipboard and stepping out the door. Hizashi stays, squeezing your hand in his own.

He talks about things you’ve missed. How Eri says she can’t wait to visit, but seems to enjoy being babysat by Mirio and Tamaki. How Nezu’s promised to waive any tests or assignments you may have missed, but that doesn’t mean you can slack off. He stays away from the topic you’re itching to talk about- what you're missing. You aren’t stupid. You know their reaction to whatever you don’t remember isn’t good, and you doubt they’ll tell you until they know how you are mentally.

You jump when the door swings open, followed by Bakugou stumbling in while a nurse and your dad try to keep him out.

“You’re okay…” he breathes out, heaving a laugh, “they told me you were but I just had to-to make sure…”

His right arm is bandaged from wrist to elbow and his lip is busted, but he looks fine otherwise. You spare a glance to Hizashi, who’s now standing from his seat.

“What’re you doing here, Bakugou?” You ask, pulling the blankets closer to yourself. Your mind flashes to the picture your dad showed you previously, and you shake your head. There’s no way…

“What am I… Bakugou?” He seems more surprised you use his surname than anything, “What’s up with you, (y/n)?”

You make a face at him using your given name, scrunching your nose but offer no other rebuttal.

He sputters, looking to his teacher and the doctor, “Why are they acting so weird?”

You have half a mind to ask why he’s acting so weird, but Shouta…

“It seems they don’t remember you’re… dating.”

Dating. You? With Bakugou Katsuki? Dating?

Bakugou’s eyes cut to you and you flinch under his stare. “No. No, no, no, no, no, come on (y/n), tell me they’re lying-” He’s stepping towards your bed, but Hizashi stands in front of him before he can get too close, placing a hand on the younger man’s shoulder.

“I-I… I have no idea what you’re… we were dating?”

He visibly deflates, giving another glance towards your parents and the doctor, before Hizashi’s leading him out the door.

A week passes, and you learn Bakugou’s been discharged while the doctor requests you stay a couple days longer so they can monitor your ‘amnesia’. Hizashi and Shouta promise they’ll bring Eri by, and you’re pleasantly surprised when Hizashi opens the door with the little girl in his arms. She fights against his hold until she’s being placed down, not stopping for a second to clamber her way up your bed and embrace you in the biggest hug. You laugh.

“Eri, I’ve missed you!”

“I’ve missed you more.” She says, face burrowed in your neck. The two of you stayed like this for a moment, Eri content with sitting in your embrace, before she’s pulling away and messing with your tangled hair.

“I miss you and Bakugou playing with me,” she says after a pause, pulling her hands to herself and looking down.

You only force a smile and rub her cheek, “I miss playing with you too.” Is all you can come up with.

There’s no speaking on Bakugou’s behalf, hell, it’s hard to believe he’d even have the patience to sit and play some dorky princess games with Eri and you. But, it seems he managed some amount of tolerance, since Eri’s able to recall fond memories. You wonder if there’s really anything to miss about Bakugou. Everytime you dwell on the thought, or try to remember any semblance of a memory, you end up with nothing but a headache.

It’s frustrating.

Eventually, Eri wears herself out and falls asleep on your chest. You don’t mind, used to her using you as her personal pillow. Running your fingers through her hair, you look over to your parents. They speak in hushed tones next to your bed. You look away, instead focusing on the wall directly in front of you.

“Did I really love him?” You can’t help but ask, voice soft. The two adults pause, glancing over to you in time for you to catch their eyes. “Bakugou,” you clarify, though you’re not sure why, “did I really love him?”

They hesitate, looking to each other. Hizashi opens his mouth to answer, but Aizawa beats him to the punch.

“We don’t know that you’re ready to discuss that yet.” His tone is in no way harsh or demeaning, and yet it feels like a slap in the face. This was your life you were asking about- the least they could do was tell you about it.

“I think I deserve to know,” you can’t help but snap. Eri shifts in her sleep, and you take in a small breath, looking away from your parents, “I just… I wanna understand…”

You see them share a look from the corner of your eye, before Hizashi gives a soft sigh. They both sit up straighter- well, Hizashi sits up straighter. Shouta leans forward with his elbows resting on his knees, a vacant look coming across his features.

“You started dating about a year ago,” Hizashi starts, pulling out his phone and scrolling through some apps, “you told us about a month and a half after- you were scared Sho would string Bakugou up by his toes if he found out.” The blonde can’t help but snicker at the thought, sparing a glance to his husband.

“I would’ve, too,” Shouta adds nonchalantly, clasping his hands together, “if you hadn’t been so adamant about us ‘playing nice’.”

Hizashi hands you his phone and you see he’s opened a photo album called ‘The Love Birds’. You make a face at the cringey name, but begin scrolling through it nonetheless. It’s filled with pictures of you and Bakugou; holding hands, going on what you can assume are dates, and even some of you kissing (though it’s mostly just small pecks on the cheek).

“Those are all photos you’ve either sent us or that we’ve taken ourselves. Bakugou wanted them to make a scrapbook or something.”

Your heart honestly hurts at the sight. These are all photos of you, and yet you have no recollection of any of them. You look so happy in each of them, too, gazing at Bakugou with such an adoration that you don’t think you could ever muster right now. You lock the phone and pass it back to Hizashi.

The doctor releases you the next day, having been convinced fairly easily by Shouta. You’re back at home with them for a full day, before they allow you back at the dorms. While they’d prefer you to just be home, the villain is still loose. They know you’re better off constantly around your peers than sitting at home alone, however, they make it a point to stop by when time allows it.

Everyone in class B gives you a warm welcome back, and no one asks about your situation. Kendo helps keep you distracted by planning game nights and offering to do face masks when she can. Testu tells you jokes that keep a smile on your face when he’s around, and sometimes joins you and Kendo on your game nights. Monoma helps you catch up on any assignments you may be confused with, seeing as you’re being thrown back into classes after missing about two weeks. Shinsou makes sure you’re never alone, and is a shoulder for you to cry on or a face to complain to.

Things are relatively normal, you’re slowly getting back into the swing of things, and yet…

Something still feels off.

Deep down, you know what it is. Your relationship, well- lack thereof, with Bakugou. You feel like a piece of you is missing, but it’s just… hard to really believe you dated him. It’s hard to admit to yourself that you were in a relationship with the Bakugou Katsuki.

Staying up at night becomes your new norm. It isn’t too bothersome, Shinsou taking after your father in the fact that he rarely sleeps at night, and is more than happy to keep you company. Some nights, he falls asleep before you, or doesn’t have the time to stop by. On these nights, you try to keep yourself busy. Catch up on homework, getting ahead on assignments, maybe throw in a few exercises if you’re feeling especially motivated, but tonight…

Tonight just feels different. Your room feels cramped yet too big at the same time, so you do the one thing you can think of in the moment and leave. It may not be the best decision, walking outside in just pajama shorts and a t-shirt, but it seems like the most plausible choice given the time.

U.A.’s campus is pretty at night, you discover. The air around you is cold, biting at your skin, but it’s not something you’re unused to due to your quirk. It makes you realize that more time passed than you thought. Stars twinkle in the sky and you smile to yourself at the fact that despite everything changing, the world has stayed the same. Walking around aimlessly does good at helping clear your head, regardless of the frigid air surrounding your frame. You jump at the feeling of something being draped around your shoulders, whirling around to face the sudden intruder.

It’s Bakugou, who holds his hands up in surrender and ensures there’s some semblance of distance between you while he speaks, “Just thought someone should tell you to not be a dumbass and come out with no jacket.”

Even though what he says has an edge, his tone holds no malice. His voice is soft, as if he’s afraid speaking any louder would scare you away. It’s the first time you’ve interacted with Bakugou since the hospital, and you genuinely wonder for a moment what he’s thinking.

You pull the jacket closer around you and look away, mumbling a small, “thanks.”

The two of you begin walking together with no particular destination in mind, mostly content with one another's company. Bakugou asks why you’re awake and you give the simple reply of not being able to sleep. He mutters out a short same and soon, you find yourselves sitting on a hill that has the perfect view overlooking the city. It’s then you notice Bakugou isn’t wearing a jacket himself, clad in only a dark tank top and sweatpants. You wonder if he realized he was being hypocritical in giving you his own.

“Do you want this back?” You find yourself asking, gesturing to the jacket, “I remember you… don’t really like the cold.”

“Nah, I don’t need it.” He waves you off with a shake of his head. Truthfully, he’s freezing his ass off, but he knows you despise the cold more than anything. He knows it’s all you feel when you use your quirk, and made a promise to himself to do whatever he can to help you avoid feeling this way.

The silence that surrounds you is nothing unwelcome, but you’re itching to ask the question everyone has been avoiding. You bite the bullet.

“What was our relationship like?”

He isn’t as surprised as he should be by the question, but it still makes him falter. It takes him a moment to regain his thoughts, and you wonder if maybe you’ve crossed some unknown boundary-

“It was nice,” he starts, looking up at the stars. You pull your legs to your chest and rest your cheek on your knees, keeping your eyes on him to let him know that you’re listening.

“I asked you out on a whim,” he continues, “Denki said if I didn’t, he’d ask you out for himself, and I couldn’t be one-upped by that idiot- even then, it wasn’t really me asking you out. It was moreso a challenge.”

You laugh a little at the thought, because that’s such a Bakugou thing to do. He smiles at the sound. He looks so soft, so tired, so worn out from what life has thrown his way as he’s bathed in the light of the moon, not pausing as his gaze remains on the sky.

“I told you were gonna wrestle- no quirks, and if I won, I’d get to take you on a date.”

“What’d I ask for if I won?” You ask, only for him to shake his head and scrunch his nose.

“In the moment you didn’t say and I didn’t care to ask. I wasn’t thinking far enough for what you could’ve wanted. I was hellbent on winning, anyways. But,” he goes on, “we fought. I had the upper hand, you were pinned down while Kiri counted the seconds and you…”

He pauses, closing his eyes as if the memory was still fresh in his mind. Maybe it was.

“... you leaned up and kissed me. It threw me off, and you used that to flip us over. You ended up winning.”

Bakugou opens his eyes and looks over at you for the first time since beginning the story. You can make out the pink dusting his cheeks under the moonlight, and you never thought you’d think of Bakugou as something akin to angelic, but here you are. Fantasizing about a memory you don’t even remember.

You wonder if his lips are as soft as they look now.

“What happened next?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper. You must sound like a child, asking a parent to finish a bedtime story, but you don’t care.

“You laughed at me,” he says, shaking his head with a small laugh of his own, “you rubbed it in my face that I lost, and I threw it in your face that you cheated.”

You can’t help but grin, “But I won.”

“Yeah,” he looks down for a moment, forming a soft smile of his own, before looking back at you, “yeah, you won.”

“And after that?” You can’t help but press on, wanting to know more about the story that was more than just a story.

“You finally told me what you wanted for winning.”

“Which was?”

You don’t realize you’re slowly leaning towards each other, or that his breath is lightly fanning against your cheek until it’s happening- you can pick out every freckle he has and see how his eyes aren’t just red, but the color of a ruby.

“A kiss.”

He feels your own breath hitch against his lips and he…

Fuck...

He’s about to close what little distance is left when someone calling your name draws you out of it. You pull back like you’ve been caught doing something you’re not supposed to, and hell, you might be with how late it is and how deep in the campus you are. With a glance behind you, you realize it’s only Shinsou. He remains a distance away, arms crossed over his chest.

“Saw your dorm door was open and couldn’t find you in the building. Got worried.”

You and Bakugou remain on the ground a moment longer. Then, Bakugou’s standing and offering a hand to help you up.

“You should go to bed,” he says low enough for only you to hear, “it’s late.”

You give a small nod, “You should too…”

There’s a pause, as if he has more to say, but decides against it, then he’s walking off in the direction of the dorms without another word.

“Your jacket-” you begin to take the item off, but he shakes his head without a second thought, not bothering to stop and retrieve his clothing. He knocks shoulders with Shinsou as he passes.

“Keep it, it was one of your favorites.” He doesn’t turn around as he speaks, gives a wave of dismissal.

You hug the jacket closer to yourself in return.

#katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero acadamia #my hero acadamia x reader #dad!aizawa #dadzawa #dadzashi #dad!hizashi #angst

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sugar-petals · 3 years

Note

This's been on my mind for awhile and i just wanted to know if im the only one: im both a hard and soft stan for all the bangtan boys but I just can't read any y/n x hobi kind of fics cause it feels weird?? Like I thirst over him (im not saying i dont think he's sexy, handsome or anything, cause he is!!) but it doesnt go so far from that. i cant picture myself dating or *being intimate* with him the way i do with the others..but why?? Maybe its the image he transmits?Wanted to hear your thoughts

as a general note first. it could be any member that a fan might feel more platonic about: simply a matter of character, looks, perceived connection. as you say, it might be that he sends out something else to you. that being said —there are two components to talk about here.

I. ON HOSEOK WRITERS

you’re very right about how sometimes, there’s a strong lateral portrayal going on if an idol fits a particular stereotype. you might be able to picture yourself in a scenario with a member, but it’s not something that’s written in the fandom. maybe because authors didn’t think about it. or maybe it’s unpopular. or not agreed on. several reasons can coincide.

fact is, image can for sure steer the way x reader fics are made. a lot of stage, photoshoot, and MV moments inspire many writers. you do have to say that it’s not all there is though. there’s a portion that gets ideas from backstage anecdotes. and a third fraction comes up with something on their own. a fourth wildly mixes everything. a fifth portion has someone else in mind but writes person XYZ instead. a sixth uses a mainstream porn or twt/tiktok trend as the basis of the character (... uncomfortable). a seventh author uses their life experience. another author replicates a popular book/movie. and so on.

hobi x reader writers have good reasons to get the first of inspo from his performance work where he shines. he’s the most stage-savvy member after all. they might get stuck there and not go any further because there’s already a lot to say about him going all out there. you might feel a way different atraction if someone wrote about a more private hoseok, or not, who knows? if there was some material about that. it’d be interesting to see how it plays out. advocating for some domestic hobi right here 😄

II. ON J-HOPE AND THE FANDOM

another fandom dynamic and bighit strategy that contributes to the effect. i always get the feeling he’s shown to us or shows himself in a more restricted, media-conscious type of way. more professional, less transparent. he’s not yoongi baring his most hidden concerns all day. he’s more sleek, not a target sphere of vulnerability or directness.

it’s not about privacy, but opinion: we know his family and hobbies and personality, but seemingly not the innermost hoseok. he’s the member that projects the most out but nobody can venture in. extroversion is a better shield than most people think. even if he says something very intimate, or raps about it, he keeps his smile on, and it takes the attention away. namjoon lets us gaze into his mind and strikes that tone, hoseok remains more elusive. his role in the team fortifies that, he doesn’t have to do the concept work that RM/suga do as producers.

a fanfic plot needs some degree of that innermost being in any kind of portrayal to really get to a reader. jimin is so desired as a date by many because he carries a lot of things about him on his sleeve. someone who decides not to do that will leave people guessing and unsure. it’s not always the looks: the idol who’s the least blank slate in a group is often the most beloved.

they’re easier to picture as your counterpart, an emotional bridge is easier to build. again then — some advocating here: doesn’t his professionalism make hobi even sexier? i find that mature and reasonable of him. you can imagine how seriously he’d take a relationship, and he can separate between his different worlds very well. hobi treats being an idol like an idol.

the prevailing problem is. hobi’s already shown in body focus, that he’s the dance headquarters of bts doesn’t help, and fans can only pick that up, or spin a 2D narrative of him. it’s been discussed often that hoseok handles stardom and self-reveal with more distance, he chooses to protect himself more than the rest. so what i think is that you have problems going past superficial thirst because

a) hobi hardly shows himself past his performer self by choice

b) the company promotes him that way

c) the fandom can’t go deeper than that either, on what basis. so, his stage presence and thirst potential becomes overhyped instead.

which is a testament to his talent but also a tale on how you can fetishize someone: as is often pointed out when people only look at hoseok based on how he can grind his hips in choreography omitting everything else about him. it’s because there’s no going further and deeper from either side. it’s agreed upon and part of the game, but it’s also sad that hoseok uses that blank slate to stay safe, or whatever reason is behind it. it’s business right there.

honestly, it IS a strong kind of strategy to prevail and keep your grind. a lot of idols could benefit from having even a tinge of hoseok’s approach to fame. if he becomes less in reach that way but he rather enjoys him image and fans go along and he’s okay with that, it’s something to deal with in a manner of, hey we see the actual point of it.

he doesn’t have to feel reachable or as vulnerable as other members opt to be, and the idea of hoseok is that he’s the sun in the first place. it does you good but getting so close isn’t the purpose 😉 some people are more meant to shine from way above. you see how namjoon is the moon man, much nearer to earth, revealing itself up close. you get the analogy, and we get back to the first paragraph like this, it always comes down to character after all.

#hoseok #fic talk #j-hope #namjoon #bts #fanfic #fanfic culture #kpop #bangtan #jimin #yoongi #anon #ask #cub mail 🐆

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 4 years

Note

I got stoic for the word generator. So uhhh... HIBIKI I CHOOSE YOU :D (maybe a stoic reader for a change 👀)

Awh Hibiki is one of my favs so thank you!!! 💖

.............

“How did you like our performance, [y/n]-chan??” Hibiki grinned as she jumped off the stage, running to you with her sister in tow.

She had stars in her eyes, eager to see your reaction. “Were you mindblown?? Amazed?? Inspired?? Be honest!”

“...it was good.”

Immediately her smile faltered at your apathetic response. “Ehhhh? That’s it?! Jeez you really are a blank slate! At least act like you loved it!” She huffed in annoyance.

“It's okay, Big Sis," Kanade tried to reassure her. “Remember, people have different ways of showing their appreciation, even if they don't outright express it.”

“She’s right,” you agreed. “Don’t worry, Hibiki. I really did like your music. I mean it.”

Clearly the vocalist wasn’t satisfied with your reaction. Not one bit. She hoped you would at least smile a little bit, but that seemed impossible given how emotionless you were all the time.

You reminded her of Shobai and Mikado, and she didn't like that at all.

"Fine..but one day I WILL make you smile with my music!" She declared with a smug grin. "I won't stop till I see it! C'mon, Kanade. We're on a mission now."

"Oh? What idea do you have in mind-?"

"Are you questioning me!?"

"A-Ah! I'm sorry! I'll..I'll go with you!"

As the twins left, you just stood there and sighed, shaking your head with slight amusement at their antics.

Hibiki seemed more determined than ever to get a smile out of you--a lot more than the rest of your classmates.

You’d like to see her try, though.

.........

“[Y/n]-chan!”

As you packed up your things and got ready to head out, you glanced over to see Hibiki rush over to you.

"Huh?" Noticing that she shoved a of CD case into your hands, you tilted your head. "What's this? A song you burned onto a CD?"

"W-Well duh. Kanade and I..p-prerecorded it. This is a new sweet love song and I want you to be the first listener. Just give us feedback, that's all."

You looked up at her, noticing the blush forming on her cheeks. "You mean now or-?"

“Yes now! I’m not waiting till Christmas!” Grabbing your hand, she tugged you out of the classroom and to the computer lab.

You were surprised that Kanade was nowhere in sight, though you didn’t bother to question that.

Rather, you're questioning why she was being so demanding to you.

Didn't she only act this way towards her sister?

Once you reached the lab, Hibiki let your hand go and rushed to grab headphones, while you sat at one of the computers. “There’s no vid, but I wanna see your reaction right here and now!” She huffed.

“Okay.” You took the headphones from her and put them on, while she inserted the disc into the computer.

As soon as you located the music file, you clicked it and sat back in the chair, listening to the song. You still wondered why she's being so insistent on you doing this.

Surely, as a top music artist, she wouldn’t need any kind of feedback, right?

But as the song began playing, and you heard Hibiki’s melodious voice singing the lyrics--you could feel heat rising to your cheeks.

‘It’s just a love song that anyone can listen to,’ you tried telling yourself. ‘She can’t actually be talking about....’

Yet despite your efforts, that thought drifted off as you felt your heart racing.

Her voice sounded so...soft and sweet--unlike her usual energetic tone when performing live--and the lyrics seemed to be speaking directly to you.

If this was a "sweet love song", does that mean this is.....?

Hibiki watched your expression carefully, grinning as she began to see the corners of your lips twitch into the tiniest of smiles. She mentally praised herself for her success, quickly snapping a picture of you.

As you took off the headphones, since the song ended, she quickly pretended to be playing on her phone before looking up. "Awh! You liked it~!"

"I..I did, but......w-were those lyrics actually...?”

“You don’t have to feel the same way but...I got you to smile and I’m satisfied~!!” Her triumphant grin widened, though she tensed when you took her hand. “Wh-Wha..?”

“Oh Hibiki, I...always knew you were a sweetheart deep down.” You chuckled lightly. “I take this as your confession, so I accept it. But..is Kanade-?”

“Hmph, d-don’t worry about her.” She huffed despite her blush returning. “Unless you’re saying you like her more.”

“O-Oh no. I just.....uh-”

“Hehe~ Just kidding~! We both made the song for you. She feels the same for you, but I wanted to confess first, sooooo if you want...we can have you all to ourselves~!”

You were silent for a few moments, though you eventually shrugged, deciding to take a chance. “Sure. I wouldn’t dream of separating you two.”

Yep, it seems these musical gals have finally achieved their goal.

#clanask #anonymous #sdra2 #sdra2 x reader #hibiki otonokoji #hibiki otonokoji x reader #fluff #one word prompt

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motherhenna · 4 years

Text

Writers Rants: Backstory

How to Smoothly Integrate a Character’s Past into the Narrative

---

If you are even remotely interested in the process of writing, then you’ve probably heard this phrase at least a hundred times over: show, don’t tell. Such a vague sentiment, but hell if it doesn’t pack a punch. In fact, it’s probably one of the only “rules” of storytelling that ought to be followed as closely as possible and as often as possible—at least in my opinion. But what, exactly, does it mean? In layman’s terms, show don’t tell is a simple recommendation: that authors should actively illustrate a concept rather than passively explain it. Why? Simple. One leaves the reader more room for interpretation and draws them deeper into the action at hand, and the other just…well, tells them what to see and what to feel in the same way a set of DIY instructions describe how to make a quirky set of kitchen lights out of mason jars. While yes, you got a straightforward idea of what to expect, did you actually have fun reading it?

These basic concepts are important to understand if you consider yourself a writer of any kind, as they function as the foundation for a) improving your prose, b) strengthening your characters, and c) forming a flowing narrative that will catch and keep readers’ attention. And naturally, this also applies to the art of exposition.

Most people with even a cursory knowledge of telling a story know that characters should never be blank slates. If you have any desire to portray even a facsimile of real life, you have to put at least some effort into fleshing out the main characters. And when I say ‘flesh out’, I mean do more than just describing what they look like, a laundry list of personality traits, and what they’re wearing. I’m not going to go into this process deeply, as that’s a matter for another think-piece entirely, but it’s a starting point for the more convoluted parts to come. What I’m building up to is that your characters need a backstory, especially if they’re the one(s) through whom we, as readers, experience the story, i.e., the point of view (POV) character. This applies to both first- and third-person limited narratives, unless you’re going for a more anonymous / incidental narrator, like Mr. Lockwood in Wuthering Heights.

Now, these backstories don’t have to be a strict, detailed, chronological transcription of every year in that character’s life (though doing so certainly doesn’t hurt!) Rather, you should write it much like you would describe your own life if you had to plot it out on a timeline. At first, just stick with the most essential elements: where and when in history they were born, whether they have siblings or present family, and a simple list of significant events from various periods in their life. What specific things have most influenced who they are as a person, for good or ill? Next, it’s time to look at the family, since nothing impacts an individual more than how they were raised and how they were treated during their formative years. Were their parents present during their childhood? What was their parents’ relationship like before and after your character’s birth? Are they natives of the country in which the story is set, or did they immigrate—and if they immigrated, why did they do so? All of these and more are, to me at least, vital to developing a well-rounded and realistic character. I’ve even gone so far as to type out entire timelines for each character as well as their parents. Personalities, quirks, trauma—these are all just as hereditary as one’s genes, though this doesn’t mean that this inheritance has to be through blood. Nature vs. Nurture: they’re both equally important in the formation of an individual.

…So, what to do when you’ve finished all that? Do you dutifully transcribe it into the first chapter of your story? Absolutely not. Copy it into a separate document window and keep it there. A large chunk of this is for your benefit: most likely, less than half of it will make it into the written canon of the novel, and for good reason. All of that detailed history isn’t for the reader, it’s for you to use as a framework. Some of the most powerful elements to realistic characters are the unseen, the implied: all the hidden little things that lie just under the surface, but are never fully visible to the naked eye.

What a lot of inexperienced writers may not realize is that everything doesn’t always have to be stated unequivocally through dialogue or info-dumps. How often, in real life, do acquaintances explain upfront that this specific behavior they often exhibit is a result of how they were abandoned by their father and raised by an emotionally distant mother? Most people don’t psychoanalyze everything, nor do we ourselves do it to others—at least not often! Plus, it’s boring. Getting to know characters over the course of a story should be comparable to meeting a new friend. You find out the surface things at first, but pick up bits and pieces along the way that hint at what lies deeper inside. Little by little, you learn about their family, their hopes, dreams, fears…not always directly, and sometimes even in spite of their desire to keep up a front of normalcy.

With all this said, I think it’s become clear where I stand on backstory: it should be subtle, woven gradually into the narrative rather than stated by the character themselves or described by an omniscient narrator. Not only does this make the process of reading about it flow better and progress more naturally, it’s also far more interactive. Instead of being told why a character acts the way they do, the reader can catalogue said character’s actions, motivations, dialogue, and the way they interact with their surroundings, gradually putting the puzzle pieces together for themselves. In a sense, it’s almost a reward for those who read with a careful, inquisitive eye, and can be just as satisfying as solving a mystery before the detective does in a murder mystery.

I’ve used—and will continue to use—a lot of metaphors in this section because it’s the most thorough way I can to explain this process and why it’s so important. That being said, I approach backstory in the same way I might organize a scavenger hunt. It’s not about a treasure map, but rather an ongoing set of little discoveries without which the ultimate prize can never be found. But in keeping with this analogy, why would anyone want to take part in this if a) they’re just given the prize’s location outright, or b) don’t really care about the prize anyway?

When you’re straight-up told about character’s backstory within the first few chapters, there’s no groundwork for investment. Why should I care about this character’s history if I don’t even know them yet? Investment is a gradual process, and ought to be an interactive process too. One of the best strategies of implying backstory without stating it directly is illustrating how a character reacts to specific triggers. Yes, you can tell the reader in the character’s introductory paragraph that he was almost killed in a house fire as a child, which still haunts him to this day—but how else can you impart this information more effectively and poignantly? For some examples, he might…

Be too frightened to turn on the stove.

Avoid any type of matches or aerosol at all costs.

Get anxious when filling up his car at gas stations.

Constantly check and re-check the smoke detectors throughout his apartment

Panic when he smells her neighbor’s lit fireplace.

Why would we need to explain to readers what made him this way when we have all the evidence we need to figure it out for ourselves? Of course, there’s nothing wrong with, later on down the line, this character actively opening up about this trauma to a friend or therapist, as this is only natural and also supplies us with details we would have never known otherwise. This just shouldn’t be the first way we find it out.

Another efficient and interesting approach to gradual backstory incorporation is through dialogue. The way a character responds to nosy questions, criticisms, or simple observations tell a lot about the kind of people they are and how they’re coping (or not coping) with potentially painful parts of their personal histories / insecurities. For example, Character A can ask Character B, “Why don’t you want to go out tonight?” In truth, B is trying to back out of these plans because she can’t fit into a dress she was supposed to wear for the party, and is trying desperately not fall back into the pit dug by the various eating disorders she has suffered from since adolescence. She is afraid her friends will want to take group pictures, or remark on what’s she’s eating or not eating, or notice the extra pudge in her stomach. She remembers how her mother would chide her for eating second helpings when she was young, or all the times her ex called her fat. But B is not going to be capable of explaining all of this to her partner. So how does she respond?

1. “I just…feel tired all of a sudden…but don’t let me keep you from going. I don’t want to spoil your night.” Implication: saving face—she doesn’t want to reveal her real insecurities, so she uses a physical illness as a cover story.

2. “What’s it to you? If this stupid party so important to you, then you can just go without me!” Implication: defensiveness—she is uncomfortable being vulnerable, and lashes out instead.

Now obviously these are just two examples of a plethora of different responses a person might have to a question like this. But what matters is that each answer should give the reader some sort of information as to why said character reacts the way they do. And these reactions don’t have to have traumatic roots, either! Perhaps, because Character C’s older sister always encouraged them to stick up for and respect themselves, C is able to take that positive reinforcement and pay it forward, inspired to protect others who may not know how to protect themselves. Positive change ripples and spreads just as much as negativity, and should never be discounted just because a character has gone through their fair share of tragedy, too.

---

In short, there is nothing simple or easy about creative writing—there is so much nuance involved in every aspect, though that shouldn’t discourage newcomers from experimenting and taking everything step by step. There are no absolutes in writing, and every rule can be challenged, so take what I say with a grain of salt. But still, I cannot emphasize enough the importance of backstory when developing strong characters, nor how much more natural a narrative will feel when these things are integrated with subtlety and grace. Your characters should never be objects, concepts, or a means to an end: if you want to make them seem real to your readers, then they must first seem real to you.

...And real people all have their own stories: to find them, all you have to do is watch and listen.

#writing tips #creative writing #writing advice #I wrote this like six months ago but forgot to post it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#motherhenna

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carryonmywaywardwriters · 5 years

Text

Love How You Hate Me - Sam x Reader

A/N: It’s late as fuck. But, hopefully this works soon. As usual, feedback is always incredible. I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Nightmares. Sexual tension. Nothing too wild.

Word Count: Roughly 3,200

“Her name was Esmeralda?” Dean asked through the mouth full of beef and bread. “Like the gypsy from Hunchback of Notre Dame?” Sam deadpanned his brother. “What?”

“Nothing.” Came the shamed sigh before the taller man leaned back in his chair. Refusing to indulge in his sibling's Disney craze.

“What else did he have?” Getting back to business, Dean turned back to you before chomping back into his burger.

“She was African American. Real pretty. He didn't pay her much mind, though. She was too wrapped up in our vic.” You stated from your perch on the small couch the motel carried. Looking over the notes in front of you. The cap of the pen tapped against your lower lip while you thought. Your blouse had been discarded to make up for the heat. Leaving you in just a white tank. “Doesn't fit the vampire mold. though. She was out in the daylight.”

“Maybe we're dealing with a bait girl.” Sam suggested, drawing your attention back to him. His long fingers carefully rolled the white sleeves up along his forearms. Too enticing for your sanity. Luckily, the greasy lip smacking from Dean tugged you back to reality.

“Maybe,” You shrugged, not convinced. “But, I don't think so. She's a dead end.”

“Why's that?” The younger brother's challenging tone only made you roll your eyes.

“Let's just call it a woman's intuition.” A wry smile only made his scowl deeper as he leaned over his own burger.

“Great.” Came the huff. “We're going on intuition, now.”

“Sam-”

“Don't worry about it, Dean.” You got to your feet slowly. Stretching so hard that the undershirt rode up. Noting the way the skin tingled at the contact from the hazel gaze. A gentle pop eased some of the stiffness from all the time crammed in the Impala's back seat. “He'll figure it out.”

“Figure what out?” Yep, definitely defensive.

Your shirt and note pad were snatched up, “Good night, boys.” With that, you sauntered towards the door. Enjoying the way Sam's jaw ticked.

“Wait! No. Figure what out?” Came the demand, again. As if that rough tone would be enough to hold you. “Y/N!”

You pretended you didn't hear him. That his roar hadn't sent shivers down your spine. Your door was shut and locked. Just in case he decided to follow. Public attention be damned.

Instead, you seemed to luck out. If there was one word that could define Sam Winchester, it was intelligent. He'd piece it together sooner than later. Once his brain moved away from the need to kill, anyway.

Bait girls rarely spent longer than night pursing a target. The longest you'd ever known had been a week to end a personal grudge. Any longer drew attention to themselves. To the nests. Drawing in hunters. They'd be killed the moment things got too close.

Esmeralda had been around too long. Was still alive. There wasn't a chance she was the bait. You'd have bet your life on it.

He figure it out? Resisting texting the older Winchester was futile. Or is he still pissed?

Option two. Dean's answer tugged your lips up. He'll get to it, eventually. Get some rest, Vamp Queen. Busy day tomorrow.

Yes, sir.

Vampires had been the closest thing you could call to your specialty. It had been too easy to spot the bait. The fake smiles. Empty promises. Every trick you'd ever picked up being put to use. They'd drawn you in with it. Trying to save them from their holds. Sometimes successfully. Other times, not. Over the years, they became the focus of your attention.

Sam didn't have a clue about any of that, though. Treating you as though it was your first hunt. So unintentionally condescending that you couldn't stand him. What a joke.

Focusing on his presumed ideals about you wouldn't help you wind down. Instead, removed the tank and skirt. Replacing it was one of Dean's old undershirts. Not bothering to worry about anything else.

Exhaustion settled into your bones as you crawled on top of the covers. Forgetting to tug them free from the mattress. The sun was barely set, but that didn't matter. Your eyes drifted shut.

–

Your eyes stared into his. Daring him to make the first move. When he didn't, you rolled your eyes. “You're pathetic, Winchester.”

Bending to put down your glass, you prepared to leave. Sam couldn't have that. His arm grabbed your bicep. Halting you in one swift motion. You didn't turn to him right away. Instead, you took a deep, steadying breath. The moment your glare met his hard gaze, he uttered a single command. “Sit down.”

Soft knocking made Sam's head jerk towards the door. His eyes opened, forcing the dream to tug away. Sure enough, it sounded again past the snoring emitting from Dean. With a groan, he kicked out of the blankets. Rubbing at his face with the back of his hand as he moved to answer it.

“Y/N?” He groggily stared at your form as you shifted at the door. You hadn't bothered to dress. Arms wrapped around your torso, you stood head bowed. “What's going on? It's...four am.”

“I...” You paused, trying to compose yourself. Clearing the lump in your throat. “Can you get Dean?” Despite the attempt to seem well put together, your voice shook. A wince flashed across your face at the sound of it before you gave up. “Please?” It was such a simple word. Earlier it would have made all the blood in his body rush south. But, in that moment, it made his stomach churn. Something was wrong. You sounded...broken. “Sam, please...”

Nothing else could leave your lips. It had been meant as a simple request. But, it was so much more. You needed his cooperation in that moment.

And he gave it without a fight, “I'll get him.”

You nodded your thanks, but didn't say anything else. Instead, you stood defeated. Shaking in the low light of the hallway. Then, it clicked in his sleep fogged brain.

“Sometimes, I have rough nights. Remember things from my past...” Your voice echoed through his mind. His head turned back to the door. Almost tempted to take his brother's place. With a shake of his head, the thoughts were gone.

“Dean,” Sam slammed his hand down on his brother's leg. Instantly, the older brother jerked in response. Reaching for his gun out of instinct, until he realized just who had connected with him.

“Dude, what?” The older sibling bit out. His eyes in slits, yet. They closed for a moment after he caught sight of the alarm. Again, Sam glanced back at the door. Deliberating on what his best option was.

“Y/N...She's at the door. I think … I think she's having one...one of her nights.” The deep green eyes snapped open at that one. “She needs you, man.”

Dean didn't hesitate. Jumping to his feet in an instant. As he pulled on his jeans, he looked at his younger sibling. “How do you know about those?”

“It's not important.” Sam shrugged out, his hand going through his hair. Wondering if you were so bad off that you'd still be sitting in the hallway. He dropped back to his bed instead of going to check.

“Earlier...You said you only knew one important thing about her-”

“Just, go get her out of the hall, Dean. She's not wearing any clothes.” The curt statement didn't make the suspicion leave the older sibling. But, he had bigger things to worry about. You.

“Hey,” Dean's voice was amazingly gentle as he opened the door enough to slip out. “You need to talk?” Sam heard a sniff, but couldn't make out anything else. He couldn't picture your face coated in tears. You always got defiant. If not stubborn, you didn't carry more than a blank slate. Never sad. Never scared. Not around him. Even when he'd seen you sneak into his brother's room, you seemed well held together. But, in that moment, you'd been more fragile than he'd ever thought you could be. “No? I'll talk then. You listen. Okay, sweetheart?”

“Okay.” It was weak, but you'd managed it. “I'm sorry...” A hallow crack escaped. “I...I...I know...I know this has to...to be irritating-”

“Don't.” His brother insisted with just a hint of steel. “It's not your fault. None of it is.” Curiosity spiked at those words. “Just take a breath, Y/N...” You must have done what he'd said. “Let's go... Let Sam get some sleep.”

Flashbacks from his childhood assaulted Sam. When he'd have nightmares, his brother had always been there. Had talked him through them. Around them. Whatever he needed in that moment. Did anytime he caught them. Even if his little brother was all grown up.

It was Dean's way of filling the gap their mother had left behind when she'd been killed by Azazel. His way of making up for the lack of real parenting they'd received from John Winchester. A chance to remain the protector.

Sam hadn't connected the dots until he witnessed it up close and personal. Dean wasn't in love with you. Sure as hell wasn't fucking you. No, he was taking you under his wing. Just like he'd done with Sam when he had been nothing more than a child himself.

The door shut quietly, as if Dean had already expected Sam to be out cold. Too uninterested to listen in. In reality, Sam sat staring at the door through the darkness. Wondering what had been bad enough to make you beg him while being fully conscious...

–

You'd moved on as if that night had never happened. As if Sam hadn't seen your weakened state. That infuriating blank mask back in place.

The only thing you'd done to acknowledge it had ever happened was a muttered thank you, a light squeeze of his bicep, and a small- shy- smile before you'd moved on. He would have thought he'd imagined it all- including your thanks- if it wasn't for the way Dean hovered over you. Determined to be there whenever you needed him. It didn't seem to phase you the way the older brother leered over you protectively. Instead, you threw yourself into the hunt with vigor.

You'd been the one who located the nest. Figured out that it was a group of females that only fed on males. Even managing to crack a joke over the whole new meaning to the words 'man eater'. You'd managed to be the one who had identified how many members there were, and they're most active period. Always three steps ahead of Sam when it came to the case. He had to wonder if you were truly sleeping at all.

There was a piece of his pride that had been destroyed on your quest for violence. But the rest of him? It was impressed. He knew you were book smart when it came to hunting. There'd been too many times you'd found the answers they'd needed at the bunker before he had a chance to. But, this went so much deeper than that. You'd been on a roll with the entire thing.

The only problem? He'd yet to see you fight. And damn if it didn't twist his gut to think of the consequences.

The impala was parked a few blocks from the building the vampires were housed in- a small, abandoned hospital that had closed sometime back in the early 1900s. Dean had taken care to hide the muscle car in a small clearing in the forest. No one from the road, or the nest, would have any clue that there was an ambush on the way.

You were in jeans and a simple black baseball shirt. Velcro straps wrapped around your thighs and attached to your belt before your blades were set in. Already coated in the ashes of saffron, skunk cabbage, and trillium to hide your scent. The third blade in your hand.

“What?” Hazel eyes were burning into your skin as you got ready. Sam didn't bother over doing it. Leaning against the Impala, simply watching you.

“Tomb raider fan?” His lip quirked lightly. Drawing a twitch to your eye. It was easier to tease than to worry.

“I'm protecting myself.” You retorted, bending to make sure the strap was secure. Turning away as if he didn't set your nerves on edge all decked out in a brown plaid that fit a tad too snugly. “We're dealing with a big nest.” The small machete was spun in your fingers to move it away from your skin as you straightened back to your full height. “I refuse to be a victim.” The unspoken again hung in the air. His eyes seemed to soften a bit, only serving to make your brows snap together. You didn't want his pity. “If you were smart? You'd have a back up, too.”

“I don't need more than one blade. I know how to use the one I have.” Your breath hitched at the double entendre. When your eyes flashed back his way, you couldn't miss the satisfaction. Nothing short of male arrogance hung in the air.

“Cute.” You wrinkled your nose, pushing away the way you'd lit up. Refusing to let him get under your skin. “Let's just chop up some vamps. Get this shit over with.” Kicking off of the vehicle, you moved to go find Dean. To speed things along.

“You really are a blood thirsty little thing, aren't you?” He asked seriously, reaching over to check his blade's sharpness as you whipped back his way.

“I try to reserve it to monsters...and you.” The final jab hit its mark. But, he didn't flinch. Simply straightened to his full height. “Blood is only fun when it comes from the right people.”

“Didn't peg you for the kinky type.” Deadpanned, he waited for a reaction to the lie. Maybe to goad you into leaving. Possibly to amp you up for the fight ahead. Adrenaline was adrenaline, no matter the source.

“Isn't that the best way to be?” Came the not-so-innocent response. “Vanilla just gets stale.” One thing was for certain, you knew how to play that game all too well. The tilt of your head exposed the lines of your neck that he'd mentally traced too many times. A slow, torturous glide of the tip of your tongue across your bottom lip drew him in. “Sammy,” Husky and thick, your voice sent the blood in his head rushing south. He didn't dream of stopping your lazy, swinging gait his way. Slowly, your fingertip raised to graze across the blade in his hand. Tracing it as if it were your lover. Your body shifted subtly. Offering up your chest. He didn't do more than glance, too distrustful of your shift. “There's a lot you're going to figure out about me by tonight.”

“A...A...Anything good?” He returned, fighting to not let your innuendos slow him down.

“Good is the farthest thing from what you're about to see.” The low promise nearly made him groan. “You see, Samuel...” Your finger stroked the blade again, letting the metaphoric action settle between you two. “There's a side of me that you can't even begin to imagine...”

“I...I promise you,” He rasped out, his own voice dropping an octave. Chest rising a little rapidly to be normal. The hazel looked deeper under the light of the late morning. “I've got a great imagination.”

“And I promise you,” You let your eyes lock with his again, “it doesn't come close to the real thing.” Your lips curled up as the warm flesh of your fingers slid down the handle. Just barely brushing against the thick skin of Sam's hand as you pulled away. Nostrils flaring, a shuttering breath left the tall hunter. “You'll see.”

“You guys ready?” Dean's voice made you jerk away. Putting distance between you and Sam. The eldest hunter broke through the woods, weapon still in hand. “Looks like they're all out. We do this right? They don't even wake up.”

“Let's go, then.” Your eyes lifted back to the younger Winchester's. Unable to stop the final look over him. “Thanks for the help, Sam.” With that, you twisted back. Heading the way Dean had come from.

“Help?” The older brother turned to Sam. Demanding an explanation with his raised brows.

“Don't ask.” Chest puffed, the taller hunter strode after you. Mentally preparing himself for the hell that was sure to come from you alone with a set of vamps.

“I should...” Dean glanced over to his car. Ensuring she was secure before turning back. Watching two of the strongest people he knew stride ahead of him. “But, something tells me that I'm better off not knowing.”

It didn't take long to find yourselves at the entrance. Vines crawled against old, crumbled, red brick. Graffiti- some fresh, some old- was scattered across every piece that could have been reached. A heavy metal door covered the front.

Your eyes met Dean's. A nod to the right let you know where you'd be. Sam got the left. Dean was taking the middle. Where you were sure that the leader would be. However, you wouldn't fight the decision. It had been too long. Wrestling with Bane didn't compare to fighting a supernatural creature.

Concern flitted across Sam's face when your eyes met his, again. But, he didn't say a word. Simply pulled open the door as quietly as he could. A nod was sent your way for luck as you walked by. One of your own was returned. And then, you were alone.

If there was ever a moment to thank Sam Winchester, it was that one. Your feet were still light. Well tuned from the stealth the pranks had required over the years as you stalked into the emptiness.

If you hadn't known better, you would have thought it was still night. The boarded up windows were few and far in between. Leaving your eyes to adjust to the shadows. Slowly, everything came into focus.

Your fingers gripped tighter against the handle that rested in your palm as you approached the first room. Using every sense you carried to anticipate what you'd run into.

A light scrape sounded as you stood just outside of the opening. A darker shadow slid across the ground. Dean had been wrong. They weren't all asleep.

A small drop of sweat slid down your brow as you tried to place where the sounds were coming from. Once you had your best guess, you sucked in a silent breath. Your heart beat thudded in your ears. Too loud for a normal vampire to miss.

Your best bet? A human was in the room. Or a newly turned vamp. You didn't know which you preferred. With a final mental pat, you turned in. Blade ready...

Part Seven

Tag: @burningmusicmachine @missmarrinette @sherlockedtash88 @rathersuspiciousbumblebee @sasbb23 @nothinbuttrouble2

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon @supernaturalginger

#supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural reader insert #spn reader insert #sam #sam winchester #sam fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #Sam Winchester reader insert #sam reader insert #sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #sam winchester x you #sam x you #sam winchester x y/n #sam x y/n

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the--sad--hatter · 5 years

Text

Name Calling (47)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU, DEADPOOL & X-MEN

PAIRING - BUCKY X READER (female reader, no physical descriptions)

WARNINGS - ALL OF THEM, SMUT, VIOLENCE ANGST

DESCRIPTION -

Vernichtung - Destruction, Annhialation.

It was what you were named and what you were supposed to be but the only thing you wanted to destroy was Bucky Barnes.

The ongoing and bloody war of words between you and Bucky turns in your favor when a disgruntled one night stand of his lets slip a secret when you run into her in the elevator… Now you have all the ammunition you need to destroy your enemy but you don’t plan on killing him quickly. Oh no, Bucky Barnes was going to suffer and you were going to enjoy every second. You just didn’t count on enjoying it quite so much.

But when your past catches up to you in the form of the mad scientist who made you, Bucky might be one of the only things that can save you from yourself. You can’t run from what you are but with his help, you can fight back.

Current Word Count - 127,743

MASTERLIST or Read on Ao3

Moodboard by @talesofakindredspirit

Chapter Forty-Seven - The Doctor Will See You Now

Jack Docherty, like all men was born with the potential for good and evil. There was no deciding factor ingrained in his DNA. At 06:24 am on December 3rd 19 1951 he was born a blank slate and his fate was to be decided by the man and woman the midwife handed him too.

Ian Docherty was a man of faith, a God fearing man. To him, the squealing babe in his arms was another miracle of the lord.

Emma Docherty was a woman who felt she was forsaken by God and her husband. To her, her infant son was nothing more than another burden.

The first three years of Jack Docherty’s life were unremarkable. Seven months into the third year, everything changed.

“Your father is sick. God is punishing him.” His mother told him.

Jack crept into his fathers room and peered at him over the top of the bed. His once vibrant father was nothing more than a bag of bones lying on the bed, his skin sallow and sunken in, stretched over his skeleton. His chest rasped and wheezed as he tried to breathe. Jack reached up and with his little fist, grabbed his fathers hand.

Almost like magic, colour bloomed across his fathers flesh and life returned to him. For the first time in days he opened his eyes. There was a small thump from the next to the bed and he looked down.

“Jack? Jack? EMMA!” He yelled.

Emma Docherty rushed into the room, falling onto her knees next to her sons prone form. As soon as she touched the boy her skin took on a sallow palour. And so at three years and seven months old, Jack Docherty healed his father and killed his mother.

“God knew my wife was poisoning me and gave me a son to heal me and punish her for her sins.” His father told the church.

At first nobody believed him but when his son lay hands on old Mrs Carver and she was healed of her blindness they knew the truth. It didn’t matter to them that Jack was now blind. It didn’t matter to his father. Until he realised that the next person Jack touched would inherit the blindness.

That was the day his father started buying rats. It was also the day Mrs Carver saw her husbands transgressions with the neighbour and killed them both.

Not even four years old and Jack Docherty was dragged to churches up and down the country to heal the sick, no matter how much pain it caused him. And everywhere they went there was a trail of dead rats and ungrateful people.

When Jack Docherty was seventeen years old he laid hands on a man with a painful, terminal disease. And instead of passing it to a rat, he passed it to his father.

“When you see God, ask him why he would do this to me and not expect my revenge.” Jack hissed to his dying father.

Evil is not born in the womb, it festers over time, through tragedy. And humanity was evil, Jack Docherty knew this to be true.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Leaving Bucky behind was the only way to keep him safe, if you hadn’t then he would be in a cell next to yours and while you loved him, you weren’t quite that co-dependant. Besides, if you were going to get out of this then you wanted Bucky out there, looking for you.

So you went quietly, letting Docherty lead you to the helicopter. You had planned to kill him as soon as you were in the air and you knew Bucky was safe but he had planned for that and as soon as you stepped onto the craft you were hit with several tranq darts and tazed for good measure.

When you woke up again it was in a cage almost identical to the one you had grown up in, the only difference was the room around it. This room was dark and musty and your grandfather was sat waiting for you to wake up.

He’d never been much of a talker before, apparently he had a lot to share now though.

Of all the tortures Docherty had subjected you to over the years, this was by far the worst. You shoved your hands in your pockets and gave him a bored look.

“So you’re a mutant?” You asked casually, it had been the only part of his story that had picked up your interest.

“It never occurred to you I might be?” He asked, as if genuinely surprised you didn’t know.

In retrospect, it made sense. Your mother was a mutant, she had to have got it from somewhere. It also explained how he had poisoned a mutant with healing abilities.

“Honestly I never really gave much thought to why you were such a dick and I gotta say... Cool backstory, you’re still an asshole.” You responded with a shrug.

“Such fire. Stark was good for you.”He said mockingly.

“You thought if you could raise me like you were raised I would turn into a psychopath like you did? Well I bet you feel like an idiot now because guess what Docherty? It wasn’t your upbringing that made you the way you are, you’re just a dick.” You mocked back.

“I saw the depravity and selfishness that people posses. They don’t deserve to live.”He hissed.

“I saw it as well, courtesy of you and agree to disagree. There are good people in the world. I’m one of them, despite your best efforts.” You rebutted.

“Ungrateful child. My best efforts made you what you are, into a god! You have no idea what I had to sacrifice to make you into Vernichtung, to bring the world to it’s knees and make people pay for their depravity!”

“Sacrificed? You mean your daughter? My mother. The one you kept locked away, waiting for the right moment to kill?” You snarled.

He looked taken aback.

Locked in another cage by him, you didn’t feel as brave as you sounded. But you were channelling Tony because this pathetic, snivelling excuse of a man would never see your fear again. So you would trade barbs with him and rile him up and you would do it with a smile.

You thought of your father and he gave you the strength to smile at the man you hated above all else.

You thought of Bucky and he gave you the strength to stand tall in the face of your abuser.

“Sorry, did you want to dramatically announce that? Go ahead, I’ll even fall to my knees in slow motion when you do.” You quipped with a signature Stark grin.

“Yes, I killed my daughter. I needed the healing mutation she had but she was weak. So I gave Vernichtung to you, your natural mutations and super soldier serum made you strong enough to survive the multiple volatile mutant abilities in your veins.” He explained calmly.

“She wasn’t weak. All those years and she still remembered me! She loved me!” You exclaimed furiously, determined to defend her memory.

“She was a slave to her heart, to her emotions. She wasn’t like me so all she was good for was her DNA. She died to help make you into what you are supposed to be.” He said callously.

“You’re right. You went to a lot of effort, sacrificed so much and for what? You’re an old man who has achieved nothing. I’m never going to destroy the world.” You scoffed.

“But you will. When you let that mutant escape I saw an opportunity. I let you go, let you be free. And I never stopped watching, waiting. You needed to have it all before I could take it from you.” He said, holding up a picture of you and Bucky, the one of you on the balcony.

“That was your master plan? Let me befriend Earth’s Mightiest Heroes and then steal me away from them? They will come for me. Whatever dank hole you have us hiding in, they will find us.” You vowed.

He chuckled and walked over to a button on the wall, pressing it. You winced as the wall in front of your cell rose and the light blasted in. As soon as your eyes adjusted you looked out of the window.

“Motherfucker.” You swore.

This was why nobody had been able to find Docherty, he wasn’t hiding. You were looking at Stark tower, it was a literal stone’s throw away. Three, maybe four blocks at most. He’d been right under your nose the whole time.

“Do you see? You never escaped. You never could.” He told you.

You couldn’t look at him, you turned your back on him as you tried to get your breathing under control. This whole time, he’d been right here. Those first days at the tower, learning to trust Tony... He had been down the street. Every moment you spent at the compound, Docherty was here where he could get to Pepper. You weren’t afraid anymore. Not even close.

You were pissed.

“Are you with me?” You growled.

“I’m always with you.”He answered.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” You said turning around with a feral smirk.

You raised your hand and blasted the cell door open, sending it spiralling across the room in pieces.

“Vernichtung.” He breathed out reverently.

“Sorry grandpa, it’s still me.”You snarled.

“Impossible.” He gasped.

“No, it’s not. Because all of me hates all of you.”

You stood tall and let the black veins ripple across your skin but your eyes remained clear. You and Vernichtung were united as you advanced on him, ready to tear him apart and put an end to him once and for all. In this, in your hatred of him, you were one with your darker self.

For you, for your mother, for every innocent he had ever hurt... He was going to pay.

“The thing about Vernichtung my dear is it is not a natural mutation.” he snarled and grabbed your wrist.

As soon as he touched you, the veins fled down your skin and onto his hand, rippling up his body.

“It’s a disease. That’s why it turns your blood black.” He said victoriously.

“No!”

You could still feel her in your mind, snapping at the man stealing her power. He convulsed as it overtook him.

“You need the healing mutation to survive it. You’ll be ripped apart.” You warned him.

“Not before I rip apart everyone you love, and then you will have nothing. Then you may have your power back and you will finally be ready to use it.”

“I won’t let you do this.” You said desperately.

He only laughed and you were thrown backwards, the Deathwave being unleashed on you and rupturing you from the inside out.

Your broken body landed in a pool of your own blood and you realised there was nothing you could do, he was going to rip apart New York and with it, everyone you loved.

And then he would get his wish, because you would destroy the world if you lost them.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dun dun dunnnnnnnnnnn.

The next chapter is the penultimate chapter, the big battle, the explosive finale before the dust settles. So strap in folks, next chapter is going to be long and painful.

Also... Jake Peralta: Cool motive, still murder.

@nerdandproud-86 @harrison-shot-first@thejourneyneverendsx @thelostallycat @inquisitor-selvala@the-corruptor @iovher @kendrawr-kitkat @phoenix-whiskey-tears @the–real-wombat @buckitybarnes@fairislesheets@angieptt @meganjonezzzz@dugan365@fluffeh-kitty@memanda17 @krystallynx@theonelittleone@piscesbarnes@free-as-fishes@tarastudiesalot@captainamericasbeard@dropthepizza346@jaynnanadrews@likes-to-smell-books@drdorkus @life-wanderer@metalarmlover @animegirlgeeky@jsmith509

#hattersmarvelverse #bucky x reader #bucky x you #Bucky Barnes

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riseofmoonxchild · 5 years

Text

b i t t e r ⬴ ʇ ǝ ǝ ʍ s // chapter three

➴pairing – jimin x reader – taehyung x reader – [ft. namjoon]

➴genre – fluff // angst

➴theme – college!au // jimin!barista // taehyung!artist

You developed a little crush on the barista at your local coffee shop, Jimin. While you start going to the cafe regularly, thinking it as harmless and innocent, you don’t realize that your interest in him will catch the attention of Taehyung, the most-liked boy in school. As the two of them stir up an almost espresso-and-milk-kind-of element to your school life and study load, you find yourself involved in a more complicated situation than you were prepared for.

»listen to the bittersweet playlist titled “coffee shop boy” here.

« b a c k g r o u n d »

✰

It wasn’t that Taehyung considered “people in the background” as nothing other than the side characters, or nobodies. People were art. It was more like they were the people that never came into focus. If you talked to him, he truly enjoyed your company, and was invested in you. He would take in your presence, appreciating your value, the story you carried with you everywhere. In that moment he would be almost completely attentive towards you. If he wasn’t, it was only to get lost inside his own trailing thought—which could happen quite often, actually.

But if you weren’t one of the few precious people to him, the supporting characters to his life, then he wasn’t going to write a song about you, or paint you in his picture. They were people that got edited out of scenes, because they weren’t central to the movie.

But when Taehyung saw her, saw you, for the second time in the same day, his curiosity peaked, wondering what intentions the writer of his story could possibly have had for you. Up until today, you had been nothing more than a background somebody. You could call it coincidence. But Taehyung didn’t really believe in just coincidences.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

“Woah, Y/N hold up,” Namjoon tried to soothe, realizing you were some kind of distressed. “What’s wrong?”

Hyper-focused on getting to the fastest escape route, you ran to the curb, trying to flag down a cab. Your thoughts were as scattered as your sense of direction, your senses as fuzzy as the world of whirring cars and bright street lights.

“Yah, Y/N.” Namjoon tried more firmly.

He gently whipped you around, grabbing your left shoulder, “Wae gurae? Why are you being like this?”

You just stared him in the eyes, feeling caught in a secret. You bit your bottom lip, guiltily. “Just trust me on this, I can’t be here right now.”

“Just tell me why,” he responded a bit dejectedly, feeling the hopelessness of not being able to take any pieces of a larger burden he knew you had been holding on to. Joon had been there to back you up when you needed it, patiently, but you had been holding back details from him. You didn’t know why. You didn’t want to see him hurt or angry or anything over such things. But at the same time you knew he would feel those emotions in place of you, no matter how much he knew, or in this case, didn’t know. All he had to know was how it affected you.

Make you were just scared of getting him involved in the situation. Even though it was already over.

“Joon, I can’t do this right now-” You stopped, distractedly. Namjoon looked over his shoulder, following your gaze.

A giggling boy was lazily coming out of the entrance, hanging on a boy—arm slung over his shoulder—somewhat taller than him, who was laughing at the other and his clinginess. The shorter one’s face was bright, in expression and complexion. Suddenly, he hopped on the other’s back.

“Wooahh,” the other responded, continuing to make amused noises.

As the scene played out before you, it took you a moment, but you knew both of the boys—Kim Taehyung and.. Jimin? Both shock and curiosity mingling and mixing inside your mind, it created a dangerous concoction of emotions you couldn’t quite figure out, leaving you to just stand there. You had a hard time accepting the connecting dots.

Namjoon, watching them, squinted his eyes and furrowed his brows in slight confusion, not being able to recognize either boys. He just turned back to you, mouth open about to question you, until he noticed your expression. This time, he grabbed your hand, walking you around the block as you mindlessly followed.

After you both had turned the corner, he turned to look back at you again, arms crossed in determination to solve the puzzle of whatever was rustling around in your mind. After a moment of having to blankly stare at him and his I-am-trying-to-figure-out-the-issue-here-but-I-might-have-to-surrender-because-it’s-not-within-my-power look, he bluntly asked you, “7/11?”

You looked up to meet him with doe-like eyes, then stared at the ground and just shook your head up and down.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

You sat at the window, slurping your ramen noodles. Your eyes never once left the inside of the ramen cup.

Namjoon sat next to you, staring disinterestedly at his ramen. After a while of his inconspicuous glances at you, dumbfounded and frequent, he ripped the lid off, broke his chopsticks, sighed, and then started eating with you in silence, as you both usually did when you came here.

You were wrestling with how to tell Joon. You wanted to tell him everything. But somehow, someone or something wouldn’t let the words come out. You were afraid and exhausted. But you weren’t sure why exactly. You just wanted to figure that part out first.

This was a time of communion. It was a time to let silence and noodle-slurping speak for the both of you. It was a time that was supposed to be healing enough, that at least after you finished eating ramen, for the rest of the night, you could both leave your worries at the 7/11.

When you both finished this time, Namjoon grabbed your empty cup and left to throw it away. When he came back, he briskly, yet sensitively announced: “Kaja. Let’s go.”

You followed Namjoon out the door, past the store front, onto the sidewalk, walking in the space next to him, but about a foot staggered behind. He walked slowly, hands in his pockets, not looking behind him and not expecting you to catch up to his side. A few minutes later, not breaking his demeanor, he said, “You know you can tell me anything.. right? I won’t judge you or anything..”

“Joon-ah, it’s not that.. I know,” and the quiet break of desperation in your voice for him to believe that said enough.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

When you walked into the coffee shop the next morning, you felt a heaviness from last night clinging to your body, your clothes. Perhaps even the dark circles under your eyes. No matter how much makeup you put on to conceal it, or the three different outfits you changed out of, you could still feel it lingering. Somehow, you hoped the bitterness of coffee, mixed with the sweetness of a little sugar, would be able to wash away the tiredness aching in your bones.

You walked in, some distance from the front of the counter, scanning the menu for some sort of inspiration. Today you wanted to do something different, you wanted a change.

While you just stared indecisively, scowling in deep concentration, a soothing, cheerful voice interrupted you: “Would you like some help?”

Summoned from your inner bubble of thought, you just looked at the barista, slightly startled. Not that you should have been, he was just doing his job.

Before you could even register that it was Jimin, something in your chest filled with warmth, a comforting kind—but it was better than coffee. “I just mean-” he started to explain himself, smiling in a quiet amusement, both for your reaction and his sudden investment in the interaction, “You always get the same thing, ya know?”

He knew you? Even if it was just as a familiar face, it wasn’t something you would ever expect enough to hope for.

You walked up to the register. And for some strange reason, you didn’t feel sick to your stomach in nervousness. There was just something about his aura that made you feel—comfortable, yes— but also.. natural. Like he was and had been your friend from ever since you could remember.

You laughed, genuine enough you could feel it in your eyes. “Yeah, but today-” You looked up as you contemplated, “I want today to be a new day for me.”

Jimin shook his head, pursing his lips as he took in what you said, in a mock yet genuine seriousness. “Ahhh..” He held his chin, elbow propped up by his other hand, as if he were thinking, mimicking how you looked up for a moment. And then, as if he had made a discovery, a solution to your dilemma, he raised his index finger, “Aha! Alright, I got it.”

You did your best to hold in your laugh, trying to play along. Your face a blank slate, fascinated to know the answer, you asked, “Well, what is it?”

He gave you a playful, secretive look. He pressed the same index finger to his lips, motioning for you to keep his plans a secret. “I have just the thing for you, but you can’t tell anyone. If someone finds out, they’d try to steal it from me.”

You nodded obediently. Though your lips may have been relaxed in seriousness, your eyes still smiled.

Seriously, eyes slightly wide, Jimin added “That also means I can’t keep any kind of records.” His soft smile reappeared, and you got his hint. “I’ll bring it to you when it’s ready,” and then he tended to the task he assigned to himself, happily, and you swore there was a little bounce in his step.

☾——————————————————————————————————☽

A/N: thank you for reading up until this point, i’m always excited to post these so i can share them with whoever is out there reading♥ —moonie☾✧

☽

→ preview // prev. // chapter three // next

→ “coffee shop boy” playlist

⋆

taglist: @monvieesdaebak @karissassirak 💕

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markleesthighs · 5 years

Text

love

Pairing: Mark x Reader

Words: 1,938

Song: Love

Genre: Angst

Warning: crossed-out lines are thoughts

love is special, love is perfect

High school, back when we were young and in love, we went to the same school until you left, to go follow your dreams. Staying up till 1 AM on FaceTime, going on rides at amusement parks, bittersweet kisses before classes, holding hands in the snow, it was perfect. you loved me I loved you we did everything together, you even watched me cry, scream, laugh, and most importantly love.

I remember when I first met you, I had just moved to Korea and had to attend high school in Korea. Being the new person in school isn’t as easy as it sounds. People avoiding you for group projects, lunches, smiling in the hallway, people even started rumors when they don’t even know you. They said you don’t know how to speak Korean, you were kicked out of your school for bullying, you didn’t come to lunch because you were too busy hooking up with a new guy every day in the bathroom. When actually, you knew Korean and heard all the insults and curse words they said about you, you left school because of your mom’s new job as a surgeon in Korea, and you were in the classroom eating your lunch alone. You had a bad image from doing nothing, but you decided to focus on your studies while others whispered about you in the hallway.

fourteen, when you looked and smiled at me, no words

You were the first person to smile at me, you asked why am I eating alone in the classroom and I said I enjoy the smell of eraser shavings and you laughed. You were the first person who didn’t care who I was but seemed interested in who I was. You saw me be silent after you laughed, you could say I was guarded, but can you blame me? I also took notice you were popular with girls, you did have everything girls did like, handsome, smart, charismatic, funny, but I didn’t want to befriend you, as others would find away to drag you away from me. They would also start more rumors about how I would blackmail you to talk to me. I expected you to never talk to me again.

my heart, yeah swear it grew a bit

You kept talking to me, to the point where it got annoying but sweet. I could tell others started the rumors again, that you talked to me out of pity, you were getting paid to talk to me, and that you did it to expose me to the school once you knew everything about me. I did like you at that time, I’ll admit that, but I didn’t think you would like me, not because of the rumors, but because I thought you deserved better. You did make me feel comfortable, and for once you made me feel happy. I remember you screamed the first time I smiled at you after I saw you trip on a stick and almost fell on your face.

we talk, we talk alone at night, stay up cause it felt like paradise

I eventually trusted you and gave you my number, and we texted often and you even FaceTimed me when your favorite anime was on. I would remember our longest FaceTime was 9 hours from 4:00 till 1:00 AM. I stayed up and only my feelings grew for you and continued to grow for the next four years.

fast forward to the future now

we were now dating. We constantly talked about our future together, if we could make it through you being an idol, you deciding to pursue music and me pursuing my medical research career. we talked about sweet things like starting a family, baby names, and fun date ideas. Deep conversations were nonetheless common, keeping me late at night thinking about the things you said. You asked me if time was real and if I think aliens are watching over us, it was those late nights that I loved about you.

It wasn’t until senior year when we finally graduated, I couldn’t find you and I was worried. I found you where we met our freshman classroom and you were sitting in my desk. “we need to break up” you said, I was confused since we would be going to the same college, so there would be no issue with anything. Tears started to form in your eyes but you didn’t dare to look at Mark right now, you wondered if you guys dated for nothing, that everything was building up for him to drop you.

love can be hectic, and love always hurts us

“we need to break up” “we need to break up” “we need to break up”

Those words kept replaying in your head, wondering why he did this. “I have to move away, and long distance relationships won’t be the best for us.” you finally looked at Mark with a blank face but tears falling from your face. You saw that Mark was emotionless like he had planned to do this for a long time now, and you just stood there in silence looking at him. Mark got up and walked over to look at you. You sniffed and said “So, that's it? Okay.” You couldn’t be mad or sad enough to yell at him, he was following his dream and if he didn’t want you to be a part of it, it's his fault. You let him walked away, not because of you weak but because you loved him, you felt that you had been holding him back from what he really wanted. You wanted him to be happy so you let him go.

back then when we had to say goodbye

Mark hugged you and you didn’t hug him back, you just wanted to have some time alone right now. Mark let go of you and left you standing in your gown, and he turns to look at you one last time at the doorway, “goodbye y/n I love you.” Once he left you immediately muttered, “you LOVED me.” You walked your way back to the courtyard to see Mark getting into a fancy car with his family and other good-looking boys. You couldn’t help but look at him as he left you just like that.

pretty soon we made mistakes and all the feelings start to change

Mark actually regretted breaking up with you and still looked at your pictures you both took on dates and members would even catch him looking at you for too long. “You still thinking about her? It’s okay Mark you’ll get over her.” Johnny told Mark. But everyone had been saying that for a year and he still wasn’t over you. Meanwhile, you, went off to college living your dream studying on becoming a research medical scientist, and you were doing very well in college. In fact, within the year you forgot about Mark most of the time but missed him and thought of him when guys tried asking you, you rejected them, but because you didn’t want to get into another relationship, not because of them personally.

and then my feelings start to fade, and then your feelings turn to hating

Within your second year of college, you forgot about Mark, not completely but the pain and depression of him were gone, you put him a new slate but you never forgot what he did. You realized little details of that day as much as you wanted to forget it kept coming back to haunt you. He didn’t even apologize or anything, he just got up and left, for no reason, he didn’t even ask if I wanted to say something, he just hugged me and left. You grew resentment towards Mark, some could even say you hated him if someone asked you would simply say, “oh yeah I knew him, he was a dick.” It was harsh but hey you hated him and hated that he let this memory be engraved within your brain.

I can’t imagine what’d I do if you were here right now

You didn’t want to think about it, but as you are now one of the best research scientists in Korea and moved from your hometown to Seoul, to work in a more prestigious office, and get paid more. You now live in a penthouse apartment on top of a hotel, worth around $10,000,000 if you didn’t count all your furniture and clothes. You also grew to be a more mature and beautiful person, and many guys asked for your number and to take you out on a date. To be honest, you weren’t dating anyone, but you said you had a boyfriend to have the asking die down. You also had a pet welsh corgi named Oliver and took him on walks when it was nice outside. At this point you had forgotten about Mark and laughed when someone brought up his name and wondered what in the heck he is doing now, you didn’t hate him anymore you just hoped he was doing okay.

but love, it stands alone

You were walking Oliver around the city and decided to stop for an iced tea so you stopped at a dog-friendly coffee shop and ordered your drink. When you walked outside you noticed Oliver was sniffing all of the passing customers but stopped at one and jumped up at one of them, spilling their coffee on their sweater. You apologized and bowed and looked up to see….

Mark…

Mark recognized you but didn’t take you to be the person he would see in a Burberry scarf and trench coat. “oh hey y/n! Since when did you move to Seoul?” he said petting Oliver. “I had to move offices for my job,” you said.

“and who’s this cutie?”

“Oliver.”

“Oliver? That’s a cute name, what do you do for work now?”

“I’m a research scientist, experimenting new vaccines and such.”

“that's so cool!”

“what do you do now?”

“me? I’m an idol now,” he said scratching his head

“really?”

“yeah I’m in a group called nct”

“Oh cool, I’ll check you guys out.”

then there was a silence.

“Hey y/n, if you don’t mind, can I get your number?”

“Mark…”

“I know I messed up, I’m sorry but I’m not looking into dating right now” as much as I would love to date you “I just want to be friends, for now, I would be lying if I didn’t say I miss you”

As much as you wanted to say you had a boyfriend, it didn’t matter, so you gave it to him anyway for the heck of it.

“Here.”

You swear you have never seen him more happy in his life he did the damn smile, that smile, he still got it huh.

“bye y/n and Oliver, have a nice day!”

“you too.”

You let out a huge breath of relief, did that really just happen? You pinched yourself as you heard your phone ding and saw a text that said:

“hey its mark” hopefully y/n didn’t give me a fake number

“Sir I think you have the wrong number” hehe

“Oh, then I’m sorry just ignore that.”

“you know I’m joking idiot.”

“OMG Y/N!! UR SO MEAN : (((“

You couldn’t help but laugh as you walked home with Oliver and your iced tea. When you got home you found yourself texting Mark at 2 AM realizing how much you missed this.

hopefully, you both can love again, and start something new, even though it seems old.

and love has a home

~admin

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exidtotheleft · 6 years

Text

The Devil’s Trill | 06

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Musician AU/Fluff

Summary: Min Yoongi is a harsh music critic and judge known for his brutally honest input. When it comes your time to face his judgement, things go down different than you expected. The judge may end up becoming more than just a person to be feared to you.

Chapters: Intro 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 Epilogue

You sat in your music theory class, bored out of your mind. Music theory was interesting and all, but somethings were just incredibly complicated and hard to understand. When you got to those kind of topics, you often just stopped listening all together, zoning out and letting your mind wonder.

It had been a few days since you and Yoongi made your agreement to text each other little facts about yourselves. You were glad you agreed to do this, it gave you something to look forward to everyday, and every time you saw him when you went to practice after, you never saw him the same way twice. He had more personality and character now. More meaning to you. He wasn't just a blank slate to you anymore. He was someone you took interest in rather than just a mentor.

As you sat in class and waited for the lecture about intervals or whatever it was he was teaching to be over, you felt a vibration zap in your back pocket. A smile rose to your lips before you reached back and took the phone out of you pocket, your heart fluttered a bit when you saw the contact. It was who you expected it to be, the person you were just thinking about. You looked up at your professor to make sure he wasn't looking toward you. When you saw him writing on the board, you looked back down at your phone and opening the message.

Yoongi: ’I tried to be a rapper once. I actually had a small underground career.’

You almost dropped your phone after reading that you were so shocked. You let out a quiet laugh and put your hand over your mouth to try to keep anymore from tumbling out. Yoongi, a classical musician and music critic who practically has perfect pitch and an incredible understanding of music, a rapper. You could practically see him walking out onto stage with a bandana in his hair and a credit card in between his teeth. The thought of it and not being able laugh had you dying.

xx-xx 'You can't be serious.'

You typed, quickly and pressed send before putting your phone between your thighs and waiting for his response. You looked at your professor that was still rambling about God knows what while taking a breath, calming yourself down. It didn't take long for him to reply, he was always quick about responding.

Yoongi: 'Totally serious. I still remember some of the raps I wrote. My favorite was called nevermind.'

xx-xx 'Maybe I'll hear it some day.'

You replied and waited. He sent his next message soon after.

Yoongi: 'No.'

You giggled at how blunt it was. You thought it was a quiet giggle, but you must have been wrong. You heard your professor call your name. The smile on your face immediately disappeared. You tried to act like you hadn't been laughing at your phone. But no one could ever cover up something that obvious. "Yes?"

"What did I just say?" 'Shoot.' You were screwed. You had no idea what he had been talking about for the past 20 minutes. You just gave a blank look and shrugged. There wasn't anything else you could do.

"Put the phone at the corner of your desk and pay attention." You sighed and did what you had been told. Putting the phone down. Luckily you hadn't responded to him yet so he probably wouldn't text you again until you did. At least, that's what you had thought until you heard your phone vibrate loudly against the wood of your desk. You pressed your lips together and shut your eyes as some of the people around you looked in your direction, hoping that he wouldn't send anything else for the 10 minutes remaining of your class period.

The girl sitting next to you laughed quietly when the electronic vibrated another time after that. "Boyfriend?" She asked in a hushed tone. "Oh, no. He's not my boyfriend, just a friend." "Yeah, sure." She agreed with obvious sarcasm. You had a feeling a blush may be gracing your cheeks. "Really, he's just my friend." "Okay okay, it's just that the look on your face when you got that first text said otherwise." You didn't respond to her, you just turned to he back of the class to check the time. It was 2:54 and this class period ended at 3. This was the last period of your day, you would go straight to your dorm after, you and Yoongi couldn't meet today because he was judging at a junior soloist competition all day today. He must have text you while taking a break.

For whatever time was remaining in class, you zoned in on what was being taught before 3 O'Clock rolled around and your teacher dismissed you. You grabbed your phone from off your desk along with your bag and violin, shooting up from your place on the edge of the riser and rushing out of the room. You opened your messages once you were out of the crowd of people, and you didn't have to worry about walking into someone else.

Yoongi: 'I demand your respect and you would lose that for me if I ever did that.'

You smiled to yourself, scrolling to the second message you had sent.

Yoongi: 'You'd better be practicing’

You rolled your eyes, he could never get off your case. You put your phone back into your pocket and walked back to your dorm, putting your violin and bag in there respective spots before flopping down on your small couch, pulling out your phone and holding it over your face. Opening your messages with Yoongi and scrolled up, reading some of the things you had exchanged over the past few days. ______

1/10

Yoongi: 'Baroque era music is my favorite'

xx-xx: 'Really? I prefer Romantic.'

1/11

Yoongi: 'Back in high school, I had image issues so dyed my hair a lot. I think mint green looked the best on me.'

xx-xx 'I've never dyed my hair any exotic colors. I want to see the green though.'

Yoongi: 'Maybe I can find a picture.'

xx-xx 'Definitely tell me if you do.'

1/12

Yoongi: 'I've played piano for Broadway before. I lived in New York for a while doing that.'

xx-xx 'I want to play in a pit someday.'

Yoongi: 'I can get you there if you'd like.'

xx-xx : 'You do too much for me, I can get there myself.'

1/13

xx-xx 'I'll send the first text today.'

Yoongi: 'Sorry I was busy scheduling things.'

xx-xx ’It's Alright. I'm 5th chair first violin of my college's premier orchestra.'

Yoongi: 'Only 5th?'

xx-xx 'Yeah.'

Yoongi: 'After we're done working together, you'll never be any less than concert mistress.'

xx-xx ’I'll hold you to that'

1/14

Yoongi: 'Those six friends of mine started a dance group once. It didn't last long though'

xx-xx 'I can't dance for the life of me. Wish I could though.'

Yoongi: 'It's not for everyone. That's for sure. Hoseok was insanely good, he still dances but me and a few others weren't as good.' ______

That was the last message he sent before today's about him trying to be a rapper. You launched again as you read it. You couldn't believe that he had done something like that it seemed so out of character for him. He had probably changed a lot since then.

You put your phone down on your chest and lay down on the couch for a few seconds longer, closing your eyes and resting for moment. The days where you didn't have work with Yoongi because you were too busy with classes or he had been called in to do something seemed incomplete. It was like you could have gotten more done, because something was always completed when you worked together. You wanted to doze off in that moment, even if it was only midday. But before you could, you felt your phone vibrate on your chest. Your opened your eyes and picked it up.

Yoongi: 'There's an intermission right now if you wanted to talk.'

xx-xx 'I'm always willing to talk to you.'

You sent without thinking about it. You winced once you realized what you just typed, wishing you could unsend your messages.

Yoongi: 'Aw, that's cute.'

He replied quickly, you sighed and rubbed your forehead. 'Why did I send that?' You asked yourself before typing out another message.

xx-xx : 'How's the competition going?'

Yoongi: 'Junior competitions are always interesting. I look forward to judging them because of the prodigies.'

xx-xx ’Prodigies just make me feel bad about myself. Why couldn't I play the Mendelssohn when I was 10?'

Yoongi: 'You can play it now and that's what matters.'

xx-xx 'I guess. Still would have been cool to have that kind of talent.'

Yoongi: 'Talent only takes you so far. Sometimes I pity prodigies, most of them are locked in their room's for 6 hours and told they can't come out till they have the piece down. I mean it pays off but for what cost. You can't spend all your time on one thing.'

xx-xx : 'Yeah, you're right. I mean my dad had done that to me a few times but never to that extreme. Sometimes he wouldn't let me go to parties or friend's houses because I needed practice. He always wanted me to be my best. Guess it paid off.'

Yoongi: 'I'm glad he did. We may not be working together if he hadn't pushed you that hard.'

xx-xx 'That is very true.'

You looked away from your phone and let your eyes land on your violin case, which immediately sent your thoughts back to a text he had sent earlier; 'you better be practicing.' You smiled to yourself when you thought back to that text and stood, walking towards it and picking it up. You set the case on your coffee table and went to a small shelf, that was in your small, shared bedroom. You took down both The Devil's Trill and also Ravel's sonata for your audition. You set up a cheap, wire music stand and put the music down on it before opening up the case and preparing to play. Starting with the opening of the Ravel, but a few measures in, you heard your phone vibrate on the coffee table you had left it on. You stopped playing and leaned over to pick up your phone, seeing Yoongi's name again.

Yoongi: 'Well intermission is over, thanks for making it a little more enjoyable.'

xx-xx : Have fun listening to prodigies. I'll just be practicing :)'

Yoongi: 'Good'

You put the phone down and focused back on your music, playing the first few measures again, but continuing this time. Fixing any mistakes you made, you wanted this to be good by the next time you saw Yoongi again, whenever that would be. As soon as the Ravel was done, you could focus on Devil's Trill which was what you wanted. Now that you could play the challenging sonata, you couldn't have asked for a better piece to play. You felt that it fit you well. It was like Yoongi knew you before you had ever even met.

#yoongi.suga.min yoongi #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #kpop au #kpop #bts #hoseok #jimin #jungkook #namjoon #taehyung #jin #no smut #fluff #reader inster #kpop fanfiction #bts fanfiction

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