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ittostan · 2 years

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"It Was A Little Mistake"

Part 2 of: “It Was A Little Mistake”

Eddie Munson x GN! Reader

Warning: Angst-fluff, Happy couple, kind of OOC Eddie, terrible writing

Word Count: 1,796 words 9,298 characters

Summary/Request: Bro I loved You're story “it was a little mistake” I was wondering if you could do a second version where Eddie keeps sending the reader letters and letters until the reader finally decides to go the the hellfire club but this is just request if you don't like it you can just ignore it have a nice day or night btw I was literally love you're story's 💕

Eddie was a mess. You saw it. So did everyone else. His hair was much messier, he had eyebags, and dark ones at that, and his style was all over the place too. He usually wears his Hellfire Club shirt with a leather or jean jacket along with ripped jeans or jeans with chains. You loved his style! You loved how outgoing he was sometimes, but once you tried to dress how you liked and were told you looked like a tornado had happened around you, so you stuck to ordinary clothing people saw you in. Eddie was the only person who let you actually be yourself around him and wouldn't call you weird or give you uncomfortable looks. In fact, he matched your energy.

It was Monday and you had just gotten to the school, making your way to your locker, though your eyes were scanning every inch around you for Eddie Munson. Yea, you hated him and never wanted to speak a word to him, but what? You could care about him. You let out a sigh, not seeing him anywhere or his van anywhere outside. You unlocked your locker and opened it to see a letter fall to your feet. A while ago you received a shit ton of letters like you could fill a show box with them, but then they stopped. Now they’re back and it made you feel your cheeks heating up. At first, confusion ran through your body as you leaned down to pick it up and looked at the envelope to see no name or anything. You grabbed whatever book you needed, putting all your other things away and the envelope into your pocket. You walked to your class, dropped your belongings, and sat in the back row.

Getting bored of listening to math, you reached into your back pocket, got the envelope out and brought it in front of you. After a few seconds, you hesitantly opened it, quietly and slowly. You take out the paper from inside, pull it out, unfold it, and see... messy writing. You could barely read (I refuse to believe Eddie Munson would have neat handwriting). ‘I'm sorry [your name]. I really am. I wish I could take everything back. I swear :( come to Hellfire tonight and I'll make it up to you. I just want to see you. Please’ were the words that you read. Eddie didn't sign it, but you knew it was from him. You wanted to smile at the fact he hadn't given up trying to get you back since it made your heart flutter, but the thing was you were still mad at him and he was just a few seats away from you. You slowly turned your head to his seat to see him staring at you, but once you two made eye contact, he looked away, trying to act natural. You let out a sigh and crumbled up the paper, looked at the trash can in the back of the class, and tossed the paper into it (giving very much basketball pro)

You couldn't see the sadness on Eddie's face. But seeing the paper being thrown into the trash can broke his heart. Shattered. His heart shattered into a million pieces. He turned away, so you didn't see his hurt face filled with regret that he even tried to make it up to you. It's almost been a year. Why was he still trying? The sound of the bell ringing could be heard around the school. Students got up and left, as well as you and Eddie did, going your own ways.

Neither of you tried to talk to the other or even look at the other... or that’s what you each thought. Eddie had been stealing little glances at you and you did the same, but you thought the other never looked at the other (because you guys are stupid/j).

Eddie couldn't stand you not being by his side. Whenever he was driving home, he imagined you were sitting in the passenger seat, humming along to the music playing on the radio. If you were wondering, he did skip the 7th and 8th periods. But he left you a little something.

After many classes and what felt like an eternity, school ended and you started walking to your car to see another note. "What the hell, Munson?" you mumbled under your breath, then took the paper out of the windshield wipers and unfolded it, reading it to just see

‘HELLFIRE CLUB MEETING

4:00 PM

P.S: Please come.’

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh, not laughing at it but laughing from wondering how many letters he was going to give you.

You shoved the paper into your pocket and got into your car, putting the key in and turning the car on, reaching into your glove box to pull out a cassette and put it in to play, White Room by Cream. You drove off school property as the music filled your ears and your elbow out the window that was blowing air into the car and messing up your hair. You tapped the wheel to the beat and opened your mouth to sing a bit of the lyrics.

"I'll wait in this place where the sun never shines.

Wait in this place where the shadows run from themselves.

You said no strings could secure you at the station. "

You leaned your head back, keeping your eyes on the road.

As I walked out, I felt my own need, just beginning.

After playing the song two times, you slowed down to park in your driveway and grab your things from the passenger seat, getting out the keys before getting out. You walked into your house and saw that your parent(s) were nowhere to be found, so you went to your room, threw your belongings on the floor, and then heard your phone ring. You walked over to your bed and sat down. You picked the phone up and brought it to your ear. "[last name] residence," he said as he messed with the cord. It was Mike Wheeler? ‘[first and last name?]', the freshman's voice said, "Uhm..yeah." You responded, hearing him sigh in relief, "Thank god you answered! Look, you need to forgive Eddie because he’s completely out of it. Like, it's so bad he gave us a sort of peek of the campaign and even worse is that it sounds nothing like how Eddie would do it! " Mike basically yelled, making you pull the phone away from your ear a bit.

"I'm sorry Mike, but I can't just forgive him like he did nothing."

“Well, fix him or something! He needs fixing!" He yelled one last time before hanging up.

"Geez, when did he become an asshole?" you asked yourself, putting your phone back then laying on your bed and staring at the ceiling, thinking about what he had said. Was Eddie really that torn over everything? I mean, you were the one who had gotten heartbroken, the one who was shit talked about. You were the one who should've been sad and completely weird! You wondered why Eddie cared so much. He didn't like you. He said so himself! Eddie liked people who gave him space. Is that why he won't get away from you?

You didn't go to hellfire that night, but Eddie tried again the next week, and the next, and the next, and the one after that, then the next after the next, and the other after that. So on and so on till you gave up and threw away all the letters, grabbing your coat, cruising under your breath, wanting to choke Eddie for so many letters. You didn't hate him 100% but didn't fully love how he was flooding your locker and had people staring at every envelope that fell out when you opened it. You went to Hawkins High and burst through the doors to rush to the hellfire room, kicking the door open, "Eddie. I swear to fucking God if I get one more letter I will-" You got interrupted by the fact that the club wasn't there. Only Eddie and a table with a cloth on it full of roses and takeout food. "Henderson saw you kind of mad at the letters today, so I thought you’d come..and I was right." he chuckled

"What is all this?"

"Our date"

"Our what?"

"Date! To make up for your 20 dollars and to make up for being an asshole "

Your stomach was filled with butterflies flying all around, making you feel happy, your cheeks were heating up; and you were getting nervous. Did he really want this or was it just a joke? He went to the seat you were closer to and pulled it out. "Do you want to have this date?" he asked, making you freeze up. Your mouth moved faster than your mind, blurting out a "yes" and moving to the chair to sit down with Eddie pushing it in for you to hear a small thank you. He sat down in his own chair. "I just wanted to say how sorry I am [your name]. I didn't mean anything I said. I swear it just came out like word vomit and I didn't want it to come out because none of it was true and I didn't want to say any of it! " He said, as you had already started eating your food. You didn't want to forgive him, but now that you think about it, everything he did in almost a year did make up for it..sort of. He gave you 215 letters asking for forgiveness and gave you a few gifts. "I forgive you," you said with a slight smile. You swear you felt better after forgiving him.

The two of you talked happily for almost four hours about how you were during the time you guys didn't talk and how much you missed each other, and after your date, you two left the school and you finally realized. You walked here. Ran. You asked Eddie for a ride, and he laughed at the fact that you were so mad. You ran all the way here, then the two of you got into his van and he drove you home. You leaned over to him, placing a kiss on his cheek. "You are the most romantic guy I've ever met, Eddie Munson," you said, with your lips against his cheek. He put his hand on your cheek when you pulled away and pulled you into a passionate, sweet kiss. You didn't waste a second kissing back. Was he wearing strawberry chapstick? You pulled away with a smile.

"Goodnight [your name]."

"Goodnight Edward Munson"

Authors Note: THANK YOU GUYS FOR SO MANY FOLLOWERS AND REBLOGS AND EVERYTHING!!!!

Tag List: @maxx0inwonderland@bambi-laufeyson@almost-to-gay-to-function@ziggys-guitar@sara-ackerman-05@marxenash@dear-my-honey@liamtheart @dayannadelgado1

#male reader #stranger things #eddie munson #x male reader #stranger things x male reader #x reader #male reader insert #x gn reader #gender neutral #angst #fluff #stranger things angst #gn reader x eddie munson #x eddie munson #Spotify

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owlixx · 8 months

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Arcade Review

I attended VCF Midwest 18 (retro computing festival) in Chicago with my dad this last weekend and we stopped by the Galloping Ghost Arcade. I jotted down a list of the games we played and figured I’d flesh that out with some notes/context for tumblr.

1. Tron - they had both the original machine and the Discs of Tron machine. Considering we had both brought Tron shirts, this was a hit with us.

2. Qix - I’m familiar with the “cut off the box while something bounces around in it” genre and I had heard this name before but I don’t think I’d ever connected those dots before. I wanna play some more of this one sometime.

3. Asteroids - a classic and not much to add, but the vector graphics were so bright and vivid here that it really looked cool. and the momentum feels pretty good too on the ship.

4. Street fighter/mortal Kombat - we played MK2 and 4 which was good fun, I’d like to play more of all of them. And we did one round of SF1-4 which was super fun. I wish it was easier to get into fighting games. And that I didn’t have to pick one main!

5. Commander havoc - this really impressed with the vivid vector graphics and interesting track-cylinder controls. I didn’t even get to the platforming part until playing later in the Atari collection on my vita! Which emulates the track-cylinder using the touch screen which is a nice touch, never heard of this game before

6. Battle zone - again, this is familiar territory but playing with the real headset and joysticks really elevates it.

7. Batman forever - this one was just silly, the photo scans of the actors looks so goofy on top of the movie already being goofy

8. Berzerk - a favorite of my dad’s

9. Wizards of Wor - this one played like Pac-Man if Pac-Man has a gun, really wasn’t bad despite never hearing of it before

10. Dragon’s lair - got further than I think I ever have before, new goal of mine is to actually beat this game or at least watch the full “movie”

11. Capcom vs - always fun until the game actually starts lol, love the rosters but I suck at these even more than normal fighting games. Highlight was my dad recognizing a couple character from tatsunoko and promptly kicking my butt with them

12. Dungeon and dragons hack and slash - already own this at home but always fun to see, I really ought to beat my copy sometime with someone else

13. Virtual fighter/tekken - again, takes me back to a simpler time but I need a local player 2 for these to be fun

14. Darius - I think we played the oldest and newest one. Neat novelty for the wide wide screen. On the old one, you can tell it’s a CRT in the middle flanked by mirrors reflecting CRTs on the bottom of the machine. I have burst on my vita and never played it before, it’s cool to see how arcade accurate it is now!

15. Silent scope - always gotta pop my head in here because it’s a fun novelty, I should try the home port someday for fun

16. La machine guns rage of the machines - I have this on Wii but it was fun to play the arcade version! I was surprised by how strong the rumble was. I need to play this, NY gunblade, and ghost squad more at home with my legit Wii zappers

17. Aerosmith - never knew this existed and boy is it buckwild and kind of hilarious. Never would’ve expected the Aerosmith game to be a rail shooter

18. Moonwalker - we played this for about 30 seconds before sharing nervous laughter and moving on

19. Journey - we called this one out ahead of time thinking it surely wouldn’t be here. Plays like tron where it’s actually 5 minigames featuring poorly digitized heads of the band members. Pretty funny

20. Resident evil gun survivor 2 - this was really curious! You aim with a lighting but also move by using the light gun as a joystick. Pretty neat but the multiplayer didn’t work for us. Looks like there’s a home port exclusive to EU/JP? I’d love to play more of this oddity

21. Castlevania arcade? - I think this was just a port of Castlevania 1 but still interesting

22. Super Mario bros versus - couldn’t tell if this was different from Mario 1 at all functionally but playing with an arcade joystick and buttons was neat!

23. Mario bros - I’m so used to the remake included with GBA Mario games that the original makes me embarrass myself when I play it

24. Donkey kong - I need to actually clear all the stages at least once

25. Sinistar - my dad clutched a win against the S man himself, kinda neat how this game has multiple phases and free movement

26. Star Wars arcade - we played a super low poly one because it was 2 player with a much higher poly one next to us but single player only. Also played a ROTJ speeder bike game with neat handlebar controls

27. Defender/Stargate - a classic, I need to get decent at this one sometime

28. Tempest - TxK was the first game I got on my vita and I didn’t really get it, but now I get it more and the graphics really impresses. I’d like to play more versions of this game

29. Pac-Man/mania - a staple like bread or eggs. Maybe someday I’ll play all them in order

30. Joust/2 - this was super fun. Really shines in PvPvE with an uncertain alliance. Transforming the mount in the sequel is neat, had never seen it.

31. Warlords - 4 player pong basically, but also reminded me a bit of boom blox. Keeping an eye out for this one now.

32. Night driver - never heard of it before but kind of fun

33. Pole position - feels so much better with a real wheel and pedal

34. Qbert - terrible at it but cute

35. Spy Hunter 2 - pretty fun in 2 player mode actually

36. Speed racer - this really surprised, this was super fun. Jumping over my dad was the highlight until we both collectively ran off a cliff and quit

37. Gauntlet dark legacy - somehow plays way worse than the GameCube version? But fun seeing this guy here

38. Robocop/2 - first one sucked, second one relatively impressed especially with the Wild Guns-Esque shooting gallery minigame

39. Contra - we had just played the DS Contra 4 so we had to play this one for comparison. As hard as I remember, especially for him lol. Also played an odd 2.5D contra in Japanese. I got the feeling it was a phone game port and googling now confirms yes, it is, called Contra Evolution

40. Ikari warriors - fun to play because of the unique twisting joystick. My dad lamented that we didn’t get to the tanks

41. Crystal castles - my dad showed off a secret warp trick on the first try that I managed to recreate on my vita port that uses the touch screen as a trackball. Way cooler with trackpad than joystick like I’d played before. Also always think of the musical artist

42. Cyberball - hot nonsense, he crushed me. Fun dual screen corner setup

43. Sonic the fighters - I had thought it would be fun if they had this one and they did! Didn’t play long but just fun to see it show up

44. Segasonic - this was my wildest guess as to what could even appear here, very happy to see it! My only chance to ever really play this game. Sadly, had a rude guest next ti me during it

45. Yi are king fu - this was high on my dad’s list and did in fact appear, he blazed through the first five levels quickly. I’d like to try and play this a bit more

46. Ring king - boxing game my dad was looking for, we really struggled to get started with the controls

47. Punch out - it was neat to get to play the arcade original with the wireframe graphics like his alternate costumes in smash bros

48. Judge dredd - this one was just kinda funny, classic stiff digitized photo graphics ala mortal kombat

49. 3D xevious - had never seen this, kinda neat

50. Super puzzle fighter - a favorite of my mother’s, fun to see the cabinet version. Especially since the XBLA port is weirdly compromised in some ways

51. Space invaders - this one was fun because it had a physical background graphic that the game sprites seemed to hover above, which was much more impressive than seeing just the game sprites in isolation

52. Mega man power battle - I had beaten both of these before on the capcom arcade collection for $1.99 a pop, but playing and seeing a real cabinet was a real treat

53. Paperboy - I always associated this game with the NES but the arcade version with a unique handlebar controller is a lot more charming. Still far too hard.

54. Pit fighter - so bad it’s good, this was on my dad’s list

55. Quake - this was a curious one, having to aim and move with just arcade buttons

56. Star Trek - pretty cute vector game, the Split View of first persons and top down is pretty neat

57. Cliff Hanger - fascinatingly, a laserdisc game in the style of Dragon’s Lair but repurposing clips from Lupin III without advertising itself as such.

58. Wrestlemania - not my first time playing this one, but always fun to see the super over the top moves

59. Rampart - one of my dad’s favorites, admittedly kind of advanced for the time with the base building in between rounds. Kind of an addicting gameplay loop if I am being honest

60. Quantum - super cute vector game with trackball that plays like Pokémon ranger where you have to draw circles around objects. Pretty good game feel, curious about this one

Didn’t get to play:

Popeye - favorite of my dad’s, screen broke

Star Wars episode 4 - similar

Mk3 - working but poor screen, my favorite MK

Soul calibur - the only had 2 and we ended up skipping it anyways

Silent hill - beautifully giant machine but was either down for repair or occupied

Monkey ball - had that silly banana joystick but down for repair

#arcade #Chicago #VCF #retro gaming #retro #galloping ghost

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deesmenagerie · 8 months

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Everything is wonderful if you look at it with curiosity

Until this injury, I've never had surgery before. I'm not exactly happy that I had to have surgery-- I was proud of my streak, and I'm disappointed that it's over now.

But it happened. And I have to just fuckin' deal with it.

One of the first (and arguably most important) lessons I've learned over the past month is that perspective is EVERYTHING. The way you view your experience really does dictate how you experience it. And at the beginning, I decided I would approach every experience in this process with curiosity.

Instead of: Fuck, I have to get an MRI. I've heard they're scary. I'm dreading this.

I'm doing this: I've always wondered what it's really like getting an MRI. I've seen every episode of House, and I've always wanted to know if they portray it accurately.

Not even close! (At least in the MGH system.)

It was a surreal experience. First of all, I was VERY late, and the front desk lady was VERY angry with me, and warned that I might have to wait a while.

When I'm called, I'm whisked away to the back room, which consists of a waiting room connected to a hallway with lines of stalls on one side and lockers on the other. I have to get undressed (underwear can stay) and don a pair of linen hospital pants, robe, and of course, grippy socks. All my belongings are put in a locker, and I grasp to my key-- now the single most important belonging of mine.

I sit in the waiting room for a while, scrunched down in the chair slightly because it felt better for my leg. People pass me by-- maintenance contractors (CBRE, the same people that manage my work building), bustling nurses, mysterious businessmen.

Finally, I'm escorted into yet another back room. Another hallway, with patient loading bays on one side, and the MRI machines on the other. What made this experience so bizarre was the lights-- the hallway was on a constant, hypnotizing rainbow loop. Red flowing into orange, to yellow, to green, and so on. Over and over. Not only that, but there wasn't a single bit of harsh white light in the entire place. If the light wasn't rainbow, it was a dim white.

I'm fitted into a table for the next MRI slot. They position my leg in a frame, stuff padding anywhere that my knee isn't, and then lock in the top portion of the frame.

They ask me to start thinking about what artist I want to listen to during the MRI. I'm surprised by this question, but almost immediately know who I'm picking.

While we're waiting for an MRI to open up, the nurses around me are joking around with each other-- it's clear that the vibes are immaculate in this workplace.

Finally, it's my turn, and I'm wheeled into the MRI room. They load me up, and I tell them sheepishly that I want to listen to Qveen Herby, yes that's Qveen spelled Q-V-E-E-N. They don't bat an eye, and a tinny version of 'F Myself' plays in my headphones.

My lower half is brought into the machine. I lay there, eyes closed, intently focused on not moving my knee. I'm then pulled out, before anything actually happens. I have to switch tables. They reload me, and this time things progress as normal. The machine warms up, and then the rhythmic clanging begins. With the headphones, it's not that bad, but I totally understand why it would freak people out, especially if your head was in there. My focus flits between listening to the different rhythms of each scan, and listening to the music in my headphones. Why is the music so tinny? Couldn't they afford nice headphones?

And then it's over. I'm wheeled out and released from the table. I catch a glimpse of the headphones as they remove them from my ears, and I see that where a cord should be, there's just a clear tube. I realize then that normal headphones probably aren't MRI friendly.

I retrieve my belongings and change back into my clothes. The person at the front desk is much kinder to me, and wishes me a good day. Outside, the valet gives me a pitying smile and tells me to have a good day, in an earnest and fully well-wishing way. He says this knowing full well that I parked in the garage instead of using the valet, and that the walk was long and horrifically exhausting.

***

Because I approached this experience with curiosity, I had a really good time. I had a brand new experience, and learned a lot of new things! Of course, I'll acknowledge that it's easier to stay curious when my indication is strictly mechanical-- torn MCLs are much easier to identify and fix than say a tumor.

I've found that when you approach everything with curiosity, with a desire to learn something new, the chance to experience a new sensory experience-- the experience becomes instantly more soft. How can you be judgmental with something you're curious about?

#personal #journal #reflection #injury

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bts-weverse-trans · 3 years

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210104 Weverse Magazine ‘Be’ Comeback Interview - Suga

SUGA “I'm grateful that there are still unvisited areas in the world of music” BTS BE comeback interview 2021.01.04

SUGA has this way of talking passionately with a deadpan look on his face. Full of passion about his life and music.

How is your shoulder? SUGA: Good. I think it’ll get even better once I take off this brace. Apparently, it takes several months for a full recovery, but I'm trying to get better as fast as possible.

How does it feel like to have resolved a problem that has distressed you for long? SUGA: First of all, I'm glad. The pain is one thing, but when my shoulders got worse, I couldn't even raise my arms. But when I heard that this might recur when getting the surgery at a young age, I waited for the right time and had decided to get it done early next year regardless of the COVID-19 situation. I had planned to get the surgery after the year-end stages, but I got it done this year (2020) because my doctors advised me to start preparing early for next year’s promotions and activities.

How does it feel like watching the other members doing promotions? SUGA: I can't say it feels great. I could see the emptiness because we've been together as a group of seven for so long. Not necessarily because I'm not there but because something that should be there is missing?

Is that what made you join the promotion as much as possible? You shot lots of video footage in advance and you even appeared in the Mnet “2020 MAMA” through VR. SUGA: Fake SUGA (Laughs). There’s this 3D studio where we shot it. I shot, scanned, and acted there, but couldn't see the actual result at the studio. I thought a sense of displacement was unavoidable, and that was exactly the case. (Laughs) I acted normal because it would have been aired anyway even if I hadn’t had the surgery, but it seems a lot because it’s aired after the surgery.

You must feel restricted not being able to go on stage. SUGA: The thing is, it's only been a month after I got surgery, but my absence on stage is so apparent. But my doctors keep telling me that I shouldn't be impatient and in fact, many athletes get a resurgery when they return to the field without proper rehabilitation. So I'm working on trying to care less. For the first two weeks after surgery, I felt so frustrated that I tried out new things. I even watched movies I didn't watch.

Could you elaborate on that? SUGA: A lot of candidates on ‘Sing Again’ are very talented but hadn't had the opportunity, and on ‘Folk Us’, I noticed that many took their own guitars on stage. I started playing the guitar lately and I'm having this urge to broaden my scope of music. And since my interest in the music industry in the U.S. grew, I'm getting prepared, studying English and all.

What fueled your interest? SUGA: In some ways it’s the most commercially developed market. You could lose the industry attention in a flash if it's not feasible. So in this system, you would try everything and that would be an efficient way. I want to do music for a long time, and to this end, I always want to learn more about the global music industry because I want to do music that’s loved not only in Korea, but also in the U.S., Japan and Europe.

Speaking of which, it seems BE was influenced from music of the past rather than today's trends. SUGA: I especially like impromptu music. I love the songs that were made in one take instead of being recorded several times. In this era of crossover genres, the desire to do better in music is growing inside me.

As the genres become more blended, the melody you use must be more important. Does starting to play the guitar affect your composing in any way? SUGA: I always liked using guitar sounds. And I have always liked the Eagles. If you play the guitar, it’s way easier to write songs because you can carry it along wherever you go, pluck on the strings to create melody lines. Keyboards are difficult to carry around. (Laughs) I usually work on my laptop but I had this thought that I definitely needed an instrument. It accelerates my work and improves my understanding of chords.

It makes me think you could intuitively make melodies. SUGA: It’s easier to write a song because you can intuitively make a progression and try many different things. During my work on ‘Eight’, IU had recorded and sent me a song from her phone. At the time I couldn’t play the guitar, so we tried to make sure we’re working on the same page when keeping track of each other's progress. That made me feel the need to learn an instrument.

When I listen to your singing, it feels like you’re hitting the beats rather than singing along the notes. So I thought perhaps you're singing as if you're rapping. SUGA: When you're rapping, you just think of the rhythm, so it’s like simply putting on a melody to a rhythm. To define which comes first, I think melody adds to it while writing the rap.

In ‘Life Goes On’, the lyrics ‘Thankfully between you and me, nothing’s changed’ are somewhere in between. It's not rap but it’d be mundane to say it's a mere melody. SUGA: There are obviously songs where the rap needs to be highlighted. For example, in ‘Dis-ease’ or ‘Ugh!’, you have to be good at rap. But in songs that should be easy to listen to, impressive raps are not always the way to go. Sometimes, you want smooth transitions without obstacles.

In that sense, the rap flow of ‘Blue & Grey’ was impressive. Rather than a dramatic effect that emphasizes each part, you extended the rap just as much as the slowing beat. SUGA: To be honest, this beat is difficult to rap to. The beginning of the song only has a guitar line, which made it even more difficult. I participated when we wrote lyrics for ‘Blue & Grey’ and I've always wanted to work on a song like this. It was because verse 1 talks about the theme of the song.

Many creators are unsure even after they’ve produced good work. How do you get the conviction to release your work? SUGA: Many musicians are unsure whether they should release their music or not. It was the same for me, but the thing is, you’ll never release anything if you nitpick everything. For example, if we release 10 songs, we have a chance to unveil them in concerts or fan events. And sometimes, as we listen to the song, we think, ‘Why does this part that had bothered me no longer bother me?’ Some things might feel awkward at some point, but in time, it no longer feels awkward. Even I forget about it. So it's more efficient to fine tune, looking at the big picture, rather than thinking too much about the details. On top of that, during promotions, I don’t have the time to pick tracks that others have sent for 10 hours. It would be a success for all of us if each of us play and write a melody in their own time and collaborate with others on the details. So the way of songwriting has evolved in many aspects.

What motivated such evolution? SUGA: I think it evolved naturally. I've changed in personality this year (2020), as well as in terms of my interpretation and attitude toward life to the extent that I almost thought I've been rehearsing. How would it feel like if there were no stage to go to or anyone looking out for me? This thought made me realize the value of these things.

In ‘Dis-ease’, you sing ‘I don’t know if it’s the world that's sick’. Was it this lifestyle that changed your thoughts about your work? SUGA: Yes. When I was young, I had embraced the belief that ‘It must be my fault’, but as I got older, I realized that this is not always true. Most of what I had thought was my fault was in fact, not my fault. On the other hand, there are things that I did well and times I had been lucky.

‘I NEED U’ came out during a time when you were still thinking, “It must be me”. After the members put on a stage with ‘I NEED U’ in KBS' ‘Song Festival’, you wrote on Weverse, “It’s the same as five years ago.” How would you compare with back then? (This interview was held on December 19, 2020.) SUGA: We've matured quite a bit. And our stage performances have become more natural. I still like ‘I NEED U’. Just listening to the beat makes me sentimental, and above all, the song came out nicely. So as I was watching this and that when I stumbled across old videos. Watching them made me think that we haven’t changed much.

I'm amazed personally. I’ve had the chance to meet the members before your debut, but from your way of talking with members or others, it seems you haven't changed. SUGA: I think it's because we don’t give it a big deal about success. For example, it's incredible to be ranked first on the Billboards, but there’s also this sense of, “Okay, and?”

Even the Grammys? (Laughs) SUGA: When we got nominated for the Grammy Awards, we thought, ‘Is this real?’ (Laughs) Of course we were delighted, but it didn’t make us think, ‘We're singers nominated for the Grammy.’ If you're nominated, you're nominated, and if you get the award, you get the award. You don't get shaken by that. I know it's a great award and would be so grateful if we receive it, but we know that nothing is possible without the tremendous support of our fans. What’s more important is that the fans are more flattered than us when we receive a great award. So everyone's rejoicing, but it’s like, ‘Let's do what we have to do.’ We've been training ourselves to keep finding our places, so no one remains overexcited.

In ‘Fly To My Room’, there are lyrics that say, ‘This room is too small to contain my dream’, and ‘Sometimes this room becomes an emotional trash can, but it embraces me.’ I had this feeling that the room had been such a place and that you were accepting that you have changed. Then the essence must have remained the same. SUGA: It wasn’t easy to accept that we eventually change. But I think it's a good thing that we changed. What we did back then was possible only at that time, and we could change because of the things we had accomplished.

Then, what new things are you dreaming about? SUGA: I'm eager to continue doing music. Since all performances were canceled due to COVID-19, I had a chance to talk to so many musicians in Korea. I talked with legendary singers as well as people who are my contemporaries. Talking with them once again made me realize that I love music so much. Because music is my profession, I can’t imagine myself not doing it. I'm grateful that there are still unvisited areas in the world of music.

That must explain your interest in a broader spectrum of music from instruments to composing and musical genres. Because you want to be doing this for a long time. SUGA: My goal is to continue doing music in any shape or form. In that sense, I have this great respect toward Cho Yong-pil. He takes the best sound there is and reinterprets it into his own. I think that’s something I want to emulate and keep changing and evolving so that I can continue doing music for decades to come.

The lyrics ‘Thankfully between you and me nothing’s changed’ must sound more meaningful for the fans because they will be listening to your music for a long time. SUGA: A month and a half in the current times must seem like a lifetime for the fans when we're far apart. I feel the same. But I think that's proof that we worked hard for the past seven years and that the fans have been passionately reaching out to us. I'm striving to get to them as fast as I can, and I'm eager to go on stage. I'm going through this because I want to be better on stage in a better condition, so don't be sad, and please hang in there a little longer.

Trans © Weverse

#bangtan #yoongi #weverse #weverse magazine #Be Album #comeback interview #210104 #2021

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rubysunnday · 3 years

Text

your song | c.b

Summary: Being in love with Colin Bridgerton is hard when the man keeps running off to different continents for months at a time. But the letters he writes and the songs he sends keep the romance alive.

It had been six, long months since Y/N had last seen Colin Bridgerton.

He had gone off travelling again, disappearing off one night with nothing more than a kiss on the cheek goodbye and a promise to write.

The romance between Y/N and Colin had struck out of nowhere. One night they'd been dancing as nothing more than friends and the next moment, there was something more. The way his hands tightened on her waist whenever Cressida said something mean felt different. The way he wrote her notes with every bunch of flowers he sent read differently.

The way he took her hand as she stepped out a carriage, his fingers gently entwining with hers, felt different.

Y/N had fallen head over heels for a man who hated staying in the same place for more than a week. And it was annoying.

He'd written to her more than he had his own family. He wrote to her everyday, judging from the dates on his letters and they arrived in bundles from the postman, all tied with a ribbon that somehow managed to match the dress she was wearing that day.

In the dozens of letters Colin had sent her, he wrote down every detail of the place he was in from the sunsets to the colour of the postboxes. The friends he was traveling with were both music students, desperate for either a career break or to find a new purpose in life.

One of them, Freddy, has been teaching me about the beauty of song writing and how all great pieces of music begin. I'm nowhere near the grandure of Mozart or the beauty of Beethoven or any musicale we've ever attended, but I'm enjoying it nonetheless.

I've found that in my writings there's always one thing I can never quite describe correctly. I search through books for the right words that could even begin to do you justice, my dear Y/N, but I find none. There's no word for describing the way you watch a musicale, or the way you talk about art and reading. There's no word on earth that could do you justice.

So, I hope this poor man's attempt at a song, written under strict guidance and a watchful eye, will begin to convey, just how much I love you.

Y/N had read the letter over and over, her eyes scouring each and every line, taking in the sloppy slant of Colin's handwriting and how he smudged the ink in his desperation to write and write and write.

She pulled out the final sheet of the letter and let out a small surprised gasp. It was a piece of music, the notes written precisely and intricately, the lyrics written messily and scrunched up underneath it. It was obvious which part Colin had been trusted with.

To Y/N

Your Song - by Colin Bridgerton

Y/N stood up from her desk and walked over to the pianoforte that sat in the corner of her room, covered in a thin layer of dust. Y/N wasn't an expert on the pianoforte, her and Colin had bonded over their failed attempts at playing. Colin could sing, though. And as Y/N read through the lyrics, tentatively playing a couple of notes on her dust keys, she could hear him singing it, his hand in her hair as they watched the sunset from the garden bench at Bridgerton House.

Their romance had been kept quiet. The ton was used to the two being openly affectionate with each other, constantly hugging or holding hands and none of them realised when it turned from friendship to romance.

Y/N and Colin had sat in the rose garden of Aubrey Hall one summer night, the sounds of the ball drifting over to them along the gentle breeze. Colin had quietly begun singing along to the song, his hands gently tracing a dance on Y/N's bare arm as she rested her head on his shoulder, her eyes shut.

Colin's singing voice was beautiful. And as Y/N played the song he'd written for her, she could imagine him sitting beside her and singing along, his hands over hers as she slowly played the notes.

Attending the opera without him felt bizarre. They'd begun a routine of sitting next to each other in the box, sharing the opera glasses and softly commenting on the music, the costumes, the lighting.

Y/N sat down in the box, scooting her chair close to the balcony. Her mother sat down next to her and sighed happily as she took in the view.

"Isn't this lovely?" She asked, picking up her opera glasses and looking through them at the stage. "I do love a concert."

Y/N said nothing, merely nodded. She kept thinking back to Colin's letter, of his promised return home in time for the concert. In time for him to sit down next to her, take her hand, and whisper about the music.

Y/N glanced up at the box the Bridgerton's sat in and tried not to let out a defeated sigh - still no Colin. Francesca caught her looking and gave her a sympathetic smile along with a shake of her head and Y/N turned back to the stage, trying not to let the disappointment sink in.

The orchestra began warming up, the music notes blending in with the quiet chatter of the audience. Y/N couldn't stop her eyes from constantly scanning the audience, the stage, the boxes, for any sign of Colin.

An excited whisper went over the audience as the lights were dimmed and the lights on the stage that illuminated the thick, red curtain were turned on.

For a minute there was silence. And then the orchestra began playing as the curtain flew up, revealing the actors on the stage.

My gift is my song, and this one's for you

And you can tell everybody

Y/N felt her heart do a bizarre skip. She recognised those words. She'd read them over and over again each night before she went to sleep. The piece of paper they had arrived on was now well worn and creased and she'd meticulously copied out the notes and the lyrics for fear of loosing them.

She scanned the audience again and felt her heart stop. The concert faded away as she focused on the man standing in the corner near the side door, a tiny smile on his face.

Colin Bridgerton stood with his hands behind his back, smiling up at her, his chin covered in the stubble of a beard. He was tanner then before and his hair had gotten lighter but it was still Colin.

Her Colin.

You see I've forgotten, if they're green or they're blue Anyway the thing is, what I really mean Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen

Y/N giggled and felt a smile appear on her face as she gave Colin the smallest wave possible, not wanting to attract attention. Colin waved back and nodded to the door that led to the auditorium. Y/N nodded in return and watched Colin disappear out the side door.

"Go on, then," Y/N's mother said, tapping her daughter's knee. "Go find him."

Y/N quietly slipped from her seat and pushed open the curtain, blinking at the bright lights in the corridor.

As she made her way down to the auditorium, she could hear angry voices that were trying not to yell. She rounded the corner and saw Anthony, Violet and Benedict Bridgerton all standing in front of a bemused looking Colin.

"You said you'd be back by the concert!" Anthony hissed, clearly irritated by Colin's lateness.

"It's hardly my fault the train got stuck by a tree, is it, Anthony?" Colin asked, sighing. "I'm here now, however, am I not? Stop fussing."

Anthony went off again, flailing his limbs around as he tried to knock some sense into Colin, his mother trying to be the peace maker between the two as Benedict tried, and failed, not to laugh.

"This isn't funny, Benedict!" Anthony snapped, turning to face his other brother as he snorted.

Benedict's smirk faded as he realised he was about to be on the end of Anthony's rant. He sighed and crossed his arms, physically bracing himself as Anthony went off again.

Colin, looking both bemused and annoyed at his family, turned and spotted Y/N, hovering at the stop of the stairs. His face fell from an annoyed smirk into a stunned smile as he stared up at her.

"They're actually both," Y/N said to Colin, her voice quiet enough that the three other Bridgerton's present had yet to realise she was there.

"What are?" Colin asked, walking up to meet her, taking each step slowly.

"My eyes," Y/N replied, smiling, dropping the skirt of her dress. "They're both colours."

Colin chuckled and looked like he was blushing. "I told you I wasn't good at song writing."

"Everyone else seemed to enjoy it," she replied as she heard the audience applaud loudly.

"Because Freddy worked on it for months until tonight," Colin replied. "Even then he wasn't sure about performing it. If he'd performed the version I'd written the ton would be complaining. I'm not very good at it."

"I think you're better at it than you believe, Mr Bridgerton," Y/N said as she continued walking down until they were both on the large step that broke up the stairs. "I'm not sure about the beard, however."

"Why?" Colin asked, a hand subconsciously flying to his chin and running across the stubble.

"Well, it just means that every time I go to kiss you, I will have to be tickled and scratched by it," she replied, her hand covering the one resting on his chin. She entwined her fingers with his. "But I can live with that."

Colin laughed and leant forward, kissing Y/N with the passion and desperation of not seeing her for six months. His hand rested on the back of her head, carefully minding her hair as his thumb stroked her skin.

"I think I'm going to stay here for now," Colin said softly, breaking apart from her, resting his forehead on hers. "Stay with you."

Y/N looked up at him, feeling his breath on her cheeks. "Colin Bridgerton, are you -"

"Yes," Colin said, cutting her off. "I am. Because it took being apart from you for six months to realise what I was missing. To realise that I travel the world searching for purpose and reason, when, in reality, my reason is you. The purpose of my entire being is you.

"Without you, I'm half a man. Without you, the travelling begins to feel like running away and I don't want to run from you. I want to take your hand and run with you. Forever if we wanted. I can run until you can't run anymore. And when you can't run anymore, I'll carry you."

Y/N smiled, pressing her lips together as she savoured the taste of his kiss. "Words are your forte, Mr Bridgerton," she said softly, stroking the side of his head, threading her fingers through his curls. "I'll run with you to the end of the world and back again. I'll take your hand in mine and I will never let you go. Not again."

Colin pressed his lips to her and Y/N smiled against his lips before returning the kiss. He smelt of his cologne, the sweet caramel biscuits he loved and, somehow, the floral, homely scent of Bridgerton House

He smelt of home. He was her home. Simply being in his arms was enough.

"I've just realised something," Colin whispered in her ear.

Y/N looked up at him, staring into his eyes. "What?"

"My family is watching us."

Y/N glanced behind him and saw the three Bridgerton's pretending to occupy themselves with anything else. Benedict was investigating a painting, Anthony was admiring the ceiling and Violet had been reading the program but glanced up at them with a smile.

And despite it all, Y/N let out a snort of laughter and dropped her head on to Colin's shoulder. "Of course they are."

Colin giggled, actually giggled, and rested his head on top of hers. "Better get used to it, love, I doubt they'll ever stop staring."

#bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton imagine #colin bridgerton #bridgerton imagines

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ignitedbynatsu · 3 years

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He Makes You Feel Insecure ~ Erik/Cobra

A/N: whoop whoop I finished it earlier than I thought 🥳 Here is the Corbra/Erik one as requested. Bikslow will be up next!! I also wanna take a moment to thank you all for the support on these series. I honestly thought nobody would answer or request anyone so thank you! As always let me know who you want me write for next! 💕

Warnings: insecurities (he makes you feel like you talk too much), cursing

genre: angst to fluff

Other versions:

Gray ~ Laxus ~ Bickslow ~ Gajeel ~ Natsu ~ Jellal ~ Freed ~ Sting ~ Rogue

🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍

“I can’t believe Jellal told Erza he was engaged, like, is he serious right now? After everything, I’ve done to help him admit his feelings” You scoffed as you braided your hair in the bathroom while your boyfriend Eric was laying in bed, trying to read a book. “What happened to the once feared Jellal? Who would’ve thought he’d be such a wuss about it. All he had to do was close that one-centimetre gap, that’s all he had to do”

Unknowingly to you, Erik grew more and more irritated as you kept complaining about Jellal and Erza. He has had a long day and the way you were talking non-stop didn’t really help his growing headache.

“It’s actually rather sad because he thinks he doesn’t deserve her, but at the same time she doesn’t want anybody else than him-“ You got cut off by Erica who decided he had enough of your rambling “Can you shut for two seconds? You really do not have a clue how annoying it is to hear people’s inner thoughts all the time and then coming back to you who keeps complaining about anything everything, do you? I just need some peace and quiet, not you who's talking non-stop about stupid, useless things. If you can’t shut up, I’m leaving because I really don’t need this right now”

You were a bit taken back by his sudden outburst, but completely understood where he was coming from. It must be really overwhelming to always hear everyone around you. You couldn’t imagine how it must feel and felt like you were being extremely inconsiderate. You always ran your mouth ever since you were little, and you know it’d come to bite you in the ass at one point. You just never expected Erik to be the one to put you in your place. You had always found it so easy to talk to him, but apparently, it was more of a bother to him. You didn’t want that to cause any problems between the two of you, so you made a promise to yourself that you should start talking less, especially if Erik is around.

As for now you mumbled a soft apology before casting your shield magic on yourself. You had the ability to form any size of shields. Within that barrier no magic except for your own works. Not even Erik’s advanced hearing ability could pierce through the invisible wall.

You finished your braid before going to bed with your back facing him and thoughts swirling freely through your mind, not having to worry about bothering your boyfriend.

The next morning you woke up before your boyfriend as usual and quickly cast your shield around you again, wanting to give Erik the peace and quietness he deserves.

Jellal got intell of a new dark guild he wanted to deal with, so he had asked to meet up in the morning in your usual meeting spot. You woke your boyfriend carefully up before continuing your morning routine.

As Erik woke up, he notices how uncomfortable silence the house was. He didn’t hear your usual humming while you got ready nor did he hear your inner thoughts. He shook it off and blamed it on still being groggy from just waking up.

The two of you were soon ready and met up with the whole group to go to your next location.

You usually chatted carelessly away with Meredy while you were heading over to a new job, but now it seemed more of a one-sided conversation as you replied rather short whenever she asked you a question.

Of course, this didn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend who wondered what got into you. He had hardly heard you say a word today. He thought about the fight yesterday and guilt immediately started to sink in. Not only that, but he didn’t realize how hard his words must have come across until now. He was just frustrated and need a moment of silence. He didn’t realize how he hurt your feelings in the progress and felt stupid for only realizing it now.

“Hey, (Y/N)?” He tried to catch your attention to which you turned your head with a bright smile at him and your head slightly tilted to the side “can I ask you something?”

“We’re here” Jellal announced from the front of the group as he looked down on the guild.

“We’ll talk after this,” You said and kissed him on the cheek before joining the others, leaving Erik tailing behind the group with a frown. You never refused to talk. You even gossiped with Meredy while you were fighting others. Sometimes you even tried to talk to the bad guys if you had no one to talk to. His words had hit harder than he anticipated. He obeyed your wish and joined the others.

As the fight went on, you felt yourself grow more tired and tired by the minute as all your magic was slowly fading out of your body. Keeping up that shield on yourself seemed like a good idea at first especially since it didn’t take up that much magic in the short run. Combining your own shield with other shields to protect the others blind spot as well as fighting with your sword at the same time, piled on the already draining magic, leaving you with nothing left.

Erik sporadically heard your thoughts flooding back in his head, making him alarmed. His eyes scanned the area and found you desperately holding of your enemies with your sword with no sign of you using your shields.

He didn’t hesitate for a second as he ran his way over to you, poisoning every bad guy on the way. “Your magic is drained”

“Yeah,” you breathed as you leaned on him while he held you up with one arm. It broke him that even now you hardly dared to speak to him.

Erik made eye contact with Jellal who understood that you needed to get out of this situation before you got hurt “Leave to rest to us, we’ll handle it from here”

“Let’s go, we’re leaving,” Erik said as he picked you up in his arms before leaving the scene. Hoteye created a wall of dirt, making sure nobody would follow you. You wanted to protest but decided against it given your situation and your promise to yourself to talk less.

Once he made sure you two were far enough from the scene he propped you up against a tree and sat down next to you. Your head automatically found his shoulder, but you quickly lifted it up as you heard him heavily sigh. You looked at him with a questioning look. “Can you please stop trying to suppress your thoughts”

This made you even more confused “I thought you didn’t want my thoughts swimming 24/7 through your head?”

“I’m so sorry that I made you feel like that. That you felt like you had to form a shield around yourself just to give me some silence. I was frustrated and tired yesterday. I didn’t mean what I said. Not only that, but I didn’t even apologize for my actions afterwards. I should’ve realized sooner how bad my words would’ve affected you” He apologized as he took your hand in his and stared you directly in the eyes, showing how much he regretted his words.

“You shouldn’t apologize, you were right after all. I talk too much, and I never take your feelings into consideration when I ramble. It should be me apologizing” You said.

“No, hey, listen, that’s not true. You don’t talk too much. If there is only one sound I could listen for the rest of my life, it’s the sound of your voice. I love the sound of your laugh, the way you sing horribly out of tune with whatever song that pops up in your head, the way you just talk when you tell me what gossip Meredy heard this time. Your voice is like literal music to my ears, so please don’t ever cut me off from my favourite song again.” He said, making you tear up at his loved filled words.

You placed a soft kiss on his lips, breaking away once you ran out of breath and placing your forehead on his, “I’m sorry for not coming to you with my insecurities”

“Please let me in next time. I’ll gladly show how wrong those inner demons are” he kissed you again with all the love he could give.

“You see, Jellal! That’s how you get a girl!” You could Meredy say, making the two of you part away while laughter took over you.

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kj-1130 · 3 years

Text

Nothing For Me

Part 5

(gifs not mine)

Main Masterlist

Part 4|Part 6

It was a strange sense of deja vu; except this time you weren’t staring at the glow in the dark stars that still lingered across the ceiling, you were staring at the back of your eyelids. Your thoughts still played loud in your head. They were like a playlist that was on repeat and you couldn’t press the pause button.

It was noisy but empty, if that made sense. A strange, but not unusual feeling to you.

The demons crawled into your head, made it their home and decorated it. And you just couldn’t find the strength to kick them out.

The back of your eyelids became something you had grown accustomed to staring at. If you weren’t awake and suffering at the will of your own mind, you were sleeping--hoping that your thoughts would turn off then.

You couldn’t see the light from the tv, but you could hear it. The ‘f.r.i.e.n.d.s.’ theme song was quite an interesting mix with the yells of ‘no one cares,’ ‘you’re invisible,’ or ‘just disappear.’

But you couldn’t sleep because the music was so damn loud. Apparently, the avengers retrieved the scepter and were celebrating. You were invited to attend by Natasha, but you didn’t have the willpower; to talk to perverted business men all night or to get out of bed--either one.

So you tried to ignore the sound of faint chatter and clinking glasses. Or maybe you would listen to it; it was undoubtedly better than whatever was going on inside your noggin.

Time passed. You didn’t know what time it was. Time is an illusion anyway.

The days were all just one big blob of nothingness to you at this point. Everyday, you felt the same, did the same thing, thought the same thoughts. So what’s the point of trying to tell whether the darkness you saw was from outside or from the back of your eyelids.

The back of your eyelids. What a strange sense of deja vu…

Stars reminded you of Michelle. The two of you always watched the stars together. It was your thing.

You’d never thought you’d have a thing with anyone. You were glad you had one with MJ.

You opened your eyes. The stars that were stuck to the ceilings seemed like they grew dimmer over the years--just like your eyes.

It was significantly quieter than it was before. You guessed everyone had homes to return to. What was a home?

Your mom was your home. But she’s gone now.

Maybe Michelle could become your home. Yeah. She keeps you warm and you do the same for her. Maybe she could be your home.

Pounding footsteps were heard throughout the hall. As tired as you were, your curiosity won out. You slowly sat up despite your body’s protest and made your way towards the door. Yeah, if you were in a horror movie, you definitely would’ve been dead by now.

Just as you were about to reach out for the handle, the door flung open causing you to jump back. Looking up, your eyes connected with red ones.

“You’ll do just fine, little Stark.”

The two former agents sped down the long halls of the tower. They reached the door and saw splinters all over the ground.

Natasha slowly walked in on high alert. She and Clint searched around the room; the bathroom, closet, anywhere where someone could hide.

The redhead faced her friend with a forlorn look on her face. Her head shook slowly.

“She’s gone.”

You were in your room--your old room. There was music playing downstairs; Whitney Houston. An artist your mom would listen to during her free time.

“Mom?”

You ran down the steps into the kitchen and stood at the entryway. She stood with her back to you. Her fro was pulled into a messy puff and she was wearing her robe; the same robe you would wear as a cape.

It smelled like french toast. You always ate french toast together on the second Saturday of the month. It was tradition.

“Mom?”

Her head lifted and she turned to face you. Instead of her glowing and blemish free skin and that beautiful, gentle smile, all you saw was a decaying body. The jaw was hanging by one side. It was as if tissue or muscle was stuck to her face and just gradually melting off.

“Hi sweetheart.”

You gasped and backed into the well causing one of the paintings to fall.

Your mom chuckled and when you looked back, her face was normal.

“You’re always so clumsy.”

Your breathing was still labored. You watched as the woman you knew as a mother picked up the piece of art. It was the one she got from her mother--your grandmother.

“You okay? You’re looking a little flustered.”

She strode towards you and rested a hand on your cheek and then your forehead.

You resisted the urge to flinch as her cold skin made contact with yours.

“C’mon. Let’s eat.”

Your body was on autopilot as you followed her to the counter. She passed you a plate and took a seat next to you.

“Useless,” was whispered and disappeared into the wind.

You looked behind you with furrowed eyebrows and a frown.

“You okay?”

You glanced at your mom before nodding.

“Yeah. Thought I heard something.”

“I’m glad I died.”

You whipped your head towards her and found the mummified version looking at you once again.

You stood and set your fork down before running up the stairs. You entered the bathroom and locked the door before sliding down the far wall.

The door was thrown open before her figure flew over to you.

Your eyes shot open and you sat up with a gasp.

Everything hurt. It all hurt.

Frantically, you pushed yourself to the corner of whatever room you were in regardless of what the throb of your head was telling you.

The rocks began crunching as if someone was walking on them. Your head whipped around in every direction trying to figure out where the noise was coming from.

“Your father took everything from us.”

“Yeah. Well he’s a taker not a giver.”

Your mom always told you your mouth would get you in trouble. You just hoped she wasn’t right at this moment.

Looking up, you were met with two pairs of eyes; one a woman the other a man.

They both seemed significantly older than you. The woman walked closer and bent down in front of you and her eyes started glowing red. You began hyperventilating, praying she wouldn’t harm you.

She lifted her hand to your temple and rested her fingers there.

“It’s time we get our revenge.”

All you saw was a decaying body. The jaw was hanging by one side. It was as if tissue or muscle was stuck to her face and just gradually melting off.

“Hi sweetheart.”

Your head was pounding and your neck was killing you. Groaning, you craned your neck and searched your surroundings.

Hands touched your shoulders gently. But it didn’t matter how gentle it was because you didn’t want anyone touching you with their hands that could kill you with the right movements.

You swatted them away from you--with your own hands that didn’t stand a chance against a lot of people.

“Woah, hey, hey, hey. Kid, calm down.”

Rubbing your eyes, you looked around as your vision cleared. In front of you stood Clint. His face was decayed; just like your mom’s.

You scrambled back and curled up in the corner of the corner closest to you.

“Hey. You’re safe. You’re okay,” he said gently.

Your gaze transferred from one area of the jet to another frantically. You wanted something to stand out at you; make it’s obnoxiousness force the visual of it in your brain. Anything would be better than seeing her face like that.

You didn’t even notice the archer moving closer to you until he rested his hand on your shoulder. You flinched hard and gently pushed it off of you.

Clint nodded in understanding and continued to kneel in front of you.

“We’re about 15 minutes from a safe house, alright? You can eat something and then rest there. That okay?”

Nodding your head, you leaned back against the wall and took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart.

The most powerful thing you knew of was Cap’s shield. Seems like that witch was taking that spot.

True to Clint’s word, the jet landed less than 15 minutes later. You were the last out although Steve did end up waiting for you. His hand landed on your shoulder and when you turned to look at it, all you saw was bones and tissue. You stumbled back and hit your back on the quinjet.

The supersoldier looked at you with worried eyes before slowly walking away.

You watched the backs of the superheroes get smaller as they walked towards the porch of the safe house.

Is that what they were? Heroes? Everyone always described them as these indestructible beings that would always be there to help civilians and save the day. But who was going to save them?

They didn’t look so indestructible. They just looked like a group of people with the weight of the world--no universe on their shoulders.

Watching everyone enter the house, you decided to follow a moment later. Cap, ever the gentleman he was, held the door open for you and let it shut once you slipped inside.

“I know all your names,” the woman who stood next to the archer said. She scanned the group before her eyes landed on you, her head tilting slightly.

You tuned out the rest of the conversation as you looked around the house--no home. It looked like a home. Not some model house that some cookie cutter family lives in. A home where parents were raising their children to be themselves and nurturing them with love and care.

The room wasn’t spotless. There were legos and toys on the floor. It didn’t smell like cleaning supplies. It smelt like a homemade meal; one that would make any stress from the day just melt away.

A hand tugged on the sleeve of your shirt causing you to glance down. It looked just like the other ones; just a decaying, withering hand.

You flinched in response and quietly stepped away, not wanting to cause a scene. Rubbing your eyes, you looked down and saw a little girl that didn’t even seem the slightest bit fazed by your little episode.

“Can you play dollies with me?”

“Actually,” Clint cut in. “She needs to rest. (Y/n) can play after a nap, alright?”

The little girl nodded and went to minding her business.

The archer placed a gentle hand on your back and you tensed under his touch. You heard him whisper to his wife before the two led you up stairs.

“You good to clean yourself up?”

You grabbed the towel and extra clothes out of his hands and sat them down on the bathroom counter.

“I’m fine, Clint,” you muttered while pushing him out of the room.

You sat in the bed of the spare room that Clint’s wife, who you learned was Laura, said that you could stay in.

A knock reverberated through the room, the sound of the door opening following suit.

You felt a dip in the bed, but you refused to look up from the spot on the covers.

You didn’t want to see a decaying face.

You didn’t want to see someone dead.

You didn’t want that image stuck in your brain like a starred picture on google photos. You didn’t want to give your mind a chance to somehow twist it all around--inside, over and out--and convince you that it was all your fault.

You just wanted to have a few seconds of peace instead of the roaring tides that were washing through your head, even if it was false.

“What did she make you see?”

You swiped your tongue over your dry lips and shook your head.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

There was a moment of silence and continued to mess with the unraveling thread in the blanket.

“Look at me then.”

You hesitated, but eventually lifted your head.

“I said look at me, not at the wall. Look at me.”

Taking a deep breath your lip began to tremble.

“Please.”

“Don’t make me do it,” you whispered.

A hand was turning you towards her before you could even stop it, but you managed to close your eyes.

“Whatever she showed you is not real. I’m here and I always will be.”

You only saw her ivory skin and forest green eyes. There were no visible bones or muscles. Just her red hair and sad smile.

Your eyes fitted around her face, making sure that it wasn’t a cruel trick your mind was trying to play on you.

Natasha lovingly patted your cheek and pressed a light kiss to your forehead.

“Let’s get some rest, alright?”

You couldn’t rest, long story short.

It was so noisy up there and you just couldn’t get it to calm down.

Every time you closed your eyes, somebody’s dead body was infiltrating your mind. Whether it was Clint or his kids, Natasha or MJ.

MJ. Oh shit.

You threw the covers off your body and slowly lifted yourself from the bed. Making your way downstairs, you heard some chatter coming from near the kitchen.

“I thought you were dead.”

A hand immediately flew up to your mouth as if that would stop the words that already came out of your mouth. Muttering a ‘my bad’ you walked up towards the group of adults while simultaneously scanning your surroundings.

“I am,” replied Fury.

Clearing your throat you took in a deep breath. But before you could speak, somebody beat you to it.

“What are you doing here, kid?”

You rolled your eyes and prepared to talk.

“Does anyone have a phone I can borrow?”

Practically everyone raised their eyebrows at you in confusion. You let out a sigh and started wringing your hands

“I-I need to call MJ. Please.”

When it was clear that desperation was shining through your eyes, Laura was quick to get up.

“Sure, honey.”

Everyone else was left confused.

“Who the hell is MJ?”

Laura gave you a phone and told you, you could call from the couch.

You were swift to dial her phone number and bring the device to your ear. You bit your lip, waiting for your friend to pick up which she did after the fourth ring.

“Who is this?”

While you were grateful the phone was picked up, it wasn’t who you wanted to answer.

“I-it’s (y/n). I-i-i’m just calling from a d-different number. I-Is M-MJ home?”

You knew all the adults were staring at you and as much as it made your skin itch and crawl, you didn’t care about it as much as you cared about talking to MJ.

There was shuffling on the other side so you could only assume that her mother was traveling around their apartment.

“Thank goodness. I thought you died or something,” she chuckled.

A smile rose to your face before you could even think about it.

“I mean, close but no.”

“I-You know what? I’m not even gonna ask.”

“It’ll probably be on the news by the end of this week anyway.”

You had finally relaxed into the couch and pulled your knees to your chest. You could still feel them staring holes in your skull and it was making you feel like you were exposed and vulnerable.

It was silent for a moment before you heard let out a sigh MJ let out a sigh.

“Are you okay?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“Do you wanna come over and talk about it?”

You let out a hum before answering, “I can’t”

“Why? A-are you hurt? If so, I can come over there and-”

“No. I literally cannot-”

“It’s not a big deal. I can-”

“I’m in another state.” There was a pause on the other side of the call. “Or country. I-I don’t know where I am.”

You heard the girl clear her throat before taking a deep breath, obviously processing what you just told her.

“So that’s what you meant when you said-”

“Yeah…”

You clicked your tongue a couple of times, wondering what was going through Michelle’s head at the moment as the silence lingered.

“I guess you’re not in Kansas anymore.”

You let out a small chuckle, something you only seemed to do in MJ’s presence.

“No longer in Kansas.”

The conversation could no longer continue as you heard your friend’s mom yell for her.

“Well, I gotta go.”

“Yeah, I guess I’ll talk to you later.”

The two of you never said ‘goodbye’ to each other not wanting it to feel like it was the ending of something.

You handed the phone back to Clint’s wife and made your trek back to the stairs before you stopped.

“Where am I exactly?”

The archer blinked owlishly at you while you stared at him with a raised eyebrow. You shrugged before continuing your way to the room you were staying in.

“Eh. I’ll figure it out.”

“What’s that even supposed to mean?”

“You’ll see.”

They left. Again. Not surprising.

You should be used to it by now. They had people to save anyway.

It was late at night and you couldn’t sleep--what’s new?

You didn’t want to bother anyone but you just couldn’t stand the commotion. You couldn’t stand that being the only thing you’re focused on.

You decided to go to the kitchen to see if Laura needed help with anything considering she did just have a whole team of unexpected guests.

The scene downstairs, kind of seemed… upsetting to you. The lights were dimmed, it was quiet, and the woman you were searching for was hunched over a cup of tea.

“Are you okay?”

Stupid question.

The brunette’s head snapped up and she met your gaze. Her eyes held a melancholy undertone in them and you just couldn’t imagine what was swirling in her mind.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

You took a seat next to her on the couch and fiddled with your hands.

“I just… worry sometimes, you know?”

“Yeah. Clint can be an idiot sometimes.”

You both shared a chuckle but the deafening silence still returned. The air flowing through the home could be heard. You could probably hear the kids’ breathing if you tried hard enough.

“Why are you still up?”

“Why are you still up? Isn’t that like, bad for the baby or something?”

Through the corner of your sight, you could see Laura shaking her head at you as a small smile danced across her lips.

“I asked first.”

You let out a sigh and shrugged your shoulders.

“Just...couldn’t sleep I guess.”

The woman nods in response and takes a sip of her tea. It was obvious to her that something else was on your mind but she didn’t pry and you were thankful for that.

Instead, she just grabbed the remote and turned the television on, an episode from the sitcom Living Single playing quietly.

A weight was felt on Laura’s shoulder and she looked down to see the young teenager resting with small breaths escaping her parted lips. The woman was careful to free an arm and wrap it around your shoulders, you subconsciously snuggling in further.

Walking down the halls of the compound, you searched all the doors. As you reached one, you raised your fist to knock only for the door to fly open before you could.

You clear your throat before looking towards the ground.

“May I, may I come in?”

The person nods and you hesitantly step inside the room and take a seat at the desk.

“I’m sorry about your brother.”

“Me too,” Wanda nods.

There was this awkward, tense silence that just floated through the room that seemed almost impossible to get rid of. It was suffocating.

“I’m sorry about the uhhh, whole mind thing.”

You too nodded in response and gave your reassurance, your mind focused on her accent. It was comforting to say the least.

It had been at least two weeks after the whole ultron thing. Tony was obviously oblivious to what happened to you.

When he ignored or neglected you, it was like a paper cut--never acknowledged or thought about until something provokes it.

You had passed the witch a few times in passing, but never truly held a conversation with her.

You knew of the passing of her brother and you knew how hard it was--is to lose a loved one. Especially if that loved one was the only one that made you feel like you weren’t completely and utterly alone.

“I know it’s not my place to say but,” you paused to take a deep breath. “Don’t let this hold you back. I-I was never given the chance to grieve my m-mom properly and, and I don’t want what happened to me to happen to you, I guess.”

At this point, you felt like you were just spitballing. You figured she already knew what was going on in your head so why not just be open about it.

“And I’m pretty sure the others will come around. Clint seemed to like you.”

The corner of Wanda’s mouth lifted a little and she gave a breathy laugh.

“And I guess, I like you too.”

“Thanks.”

You took a moment to gather yourself before heading towards the door.

“I guess I’ll see you around.”

“So to recap, you were kidnapped by a robot with murderous tendencies, got your mind manipulated by an enhanced individual, and now you’re living and somewhat acquaintances with said ‘enhanced individual’.”

“Yeah, that’s about it.”

Michelle chuckled in response and shook her head in disbelief.

“That’s crazy.”

You shrugged with a frown and scooted closer to her. Your shoulders were touching but neither of you moved.

“Eh, I’m kind of getting used to the crazy.”

You were watching the stars on the roof of her building again. MJ brought some snacks and a blanket which the two of you were currently snuggled up in.

The food was eaten quite quickly and silence was quick to wash over the two of you. But the silence wasn’t like it was with Wanda or even Laura. With MJ it was a peaceful and serene moment; like the two of you were in this indestructible bubble that only you two were allowed in. With her you felt safe.

You turned your head towards Michelle only to find her already looking at you. Both of your faces heated up but neither of you could look away. Instead, grins rose to both of your faces before the girl pulled you closer to her.

Yeah. Michelle was home.

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

Taglist

@leahnicole1219 @thebadasssass @littlegasps @lengendarymcnuggies @stillmanicc

#marvel #marvel x reader #x reader #black!reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark x daughter!reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x stark!reader #clint barton #clint barton x teen!reader #laura barton #nothing for me miniseries #michelle jones x fem!reader #part 5 #avengers x reader #avengers x teen!reader

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tragedy-for-sale · 3 years

Text

Wear and Tear: Hunter

TW for the choking scene and stuff (Like actually bud). I've written this one three times over, this version was very much inspired (and helped me realized the direction I wanted to take with this fic) by @imrowanartist 's post of Hunter.

They were siblings, brothers, but Hunter always felt responsible as if he was a parent. He was present but isolated in some way, he loved them but couldn't accept love in turn. Hunter was always there, he always showed up, except for himself.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

An empty room, why it is was empty, Hunter didn't know. "Hunter, have you seen Lula?" A small little voice said, not Omega, no. But who? It was a little voice he hadn't heard in a lifetime. "Hunter? I'm sorry, I know I should have said something." the little voice said, Hunter almost turned his head. But facing forward he stayed. Who was speaking? He was someone he knew. Crosshair! Once upon a time, that was the little voice that belonged to his littlest brother. "Hunter. Why didn't you notice? Don't you care?"

"Of course I do." Hunter turned around, kneeling down. A soft smile spread across his face as he saw Crosshair, "Hey buddy," He said softly, "I'm sorry I didn't notice, let's do something about that, what's wrong?" Hunter asked, taking his brother's hand. Oh, he used to be so small, he used to know he was loved, he used to be happy, he used to be safe. So Hunter took Crosshair's hand, pulling him into a hug and picking him up. "I miss you."

"I know you do," Crosshair, or, this little cadet Hunter convinced himself was Crosshair, mumbled as he closed his eyes to sleep, but then his eyes shot open. "You know, you never would of had to miss me if you'd just done something!" The boy pushed away, falling out of Hunter's arms, falling away and fading away.

"Crosshair!" Hunter screamed, hand reaching out, but he was already gone. He was already gone.

"Hunter, I know it is late, but perhaps, I may speak with you?" Tech. Hunter turned around and took a look. Tech stood tall, no data pad, no goggles, no armor. He was in his pajamas. "I need to ask you something."

"Y-yeah, ask away." Hunter forced himself to speak, he couldn't help but to look around, what what going on?

"Echo and I were talking and Omega overheard. But, when are we gonna bring Crosshair home?" He asked, "Oh, when are we going to see Rex again?" Another question, "What if I don't survive my surgery? You will need to work on your friendship with Echo immensely, I don't want him to feel more lonely than he does. Promise me?" This continued, "When are we going to talk to Wrecker? When are were going to tell Omega we love her? When are were going to admit that Crosshair's-"

"Stop asking me questions! I don't know!"

"When are you gonna admit what happened is all your fault?!" Tech screamed before fading away. Hunter let out a groan, stomping his feet as discomfort rose up from the floor, making his body ache, causing his stomach to turn, taking away his ability to breath. "When are you gonna admit you're in pain?" Discomfort took the form of hands, his brother's hands. Hunter kicked out against an invisible force and fell back, landing on the refresher floor.

Hunter let out a loud gasp, shaking, he pulled his limbs closer, hugging himself as he started to sob. But then he heard footsteps. He got to his feet in an instant, wiping his tears. Big brothers don't cry, not unless we're alone and they can't hear. Hunter swiftly turned around and headed towards the sink. Turning on the facet, he splashed his face with cold water again and again. As he did, he heard the door open, the sound of the heavy footsteps: Wrecker. "Hey, I'll be out in a sec." He spoke. Now why Wrecker didn't say anything Hunter didn't know, it wasn't until he found himself in the air, gasping for air yet again that he realized why.

He shot up in a cold sweat, panting for air. For a moment he sat there, hand going to his neck. Looking out to the room, he calmed his breath down, they were all here. Almost. He scanned over his family yet again, making a note of where Wrecker was before getting up. With silent steps, he made his way to the refresher, Hunter tried his best to hide his desperate steps, he was almost frantic, as if he was being chased by the shadows, he hurried to close the door.

Looking around carefully, he made sure he wasn't dreaming this time. Because now he was terrified. I should lock the door. He didn't lock the door though. He walked to the sink, turning on the water, he swiftly shut it off. Walking to the shower door, opening it and closing it. It was then Hunter let out his breath. Now he could breath, he was no longer dreaming, Wrecker would no longer hurt him.

He paced, hugging himself as he tried not to think about his nightmare, even more so than all his mind brought to his attention. Crosshair and Wrecker. It was all his fault! Hunter whimpered, shaking his head, "Oh stars." He muttered, gripping his sleeves tightly, digging into his skin with intention to break skin. Why did he have to feel so awful all the time? He was sinking to the floor when he heard footsteps, he froze, silencing his breath and cries, something he mastered quite young. Hunter rolled his feet so his steps could not be heard, making his way to the sink.

He at last, looked in the mirror, taking off his bandanna and unbuckling the neck of his blacks. Hunter knew who was coming, and as the door opened, fear ran up his spine, "Hunter?" Fear slithered its way into Hunter's eyes, tears streaming down as he shook, trying so hard to stay still, to not exist. A hand on his shoulder caused Hunter to jump, turning around, one hand guarding his chest, the other unable to move. Through his flooded eyes, Hunter looked up, Wrecker.

Wrecker froze, his expression softening as he retreated his hand to his side, "Hunter." The pain between them was incomparable to anything yet. Wrecker made him flinch. Made him cry. Worst of all, Hunter was protecting himself, from Wrecker. "I'm not going to hurt you." He whispered, taking a step back. He wasn't going to hurt him, he would never hurt him.

"I-" Hunter couldn't manage a single word, he simply stared up at Wrecker and cried. He couldn't stop the tears. Wrecker took another step back, he was going to talk to him, but this, this wasn't the time, was it? "I, I miss Crosshair." he blurted.

Wrecker turned, raising an eyebrow, "What?"

"Crosshair," Hunter wiped his eyes, "I had a dream, he was a cadet again, I told him I missed him and he told me it's my fault, then he disappeared and Tech was asking me a bunch of questions and he was going to ask 'When are we going to admit Crosshair's never coming home?'" Hunter rambled, "When are we gonna admit we're not okay? That I'm not okay?!" His arms straightened to his side as he practically yelled. "I'm not okay." He told himself.

Wrecker's shoulders slumped, looking down, "We'll get Crosshair back, we're not gonna give up on him." Wrecker told Hunter. But that wasn't what Hunter wanted to hear, not that Hunter knew what he wanted to hear. "If you ever wanna talk about Cross' I can-"

"I mean I'm not okay with you." He screamed, causing Wrecker's expression to fall. "Wrecker," His brother looked him in the eye, "I can't breath properly, I, uh, I wheeze slightly with every breath? Have you noticed? Oh, and I, I can't let Tech out of my sight either, 'cause the second I turned my back you started choking him out and I was powerless to stop it, so I don't take my eyes off of him. Did you notice? 'Cause if you didn't-"

"I noticed, I noticed all of it." Wrecker inturrupted. "I noticed Echo hovers Tech, I noticed Omega's eyes watching me, I noticed Tech messing with the collar of his blacks, and I noticed you, how you've been avoiding me, how you can't be five feet near me." Wrecker recalled, "I noticed how you guys look at me, like I'm a monster, like I might hurt you any second. You all try your best to pretend you're not at least a little bit scared of me now, you all pretend that your love for me is enough to overlook what I did. It's not." It was only natural to be weary. For all the trust they had in each other had taken a blow, one that would heal slow. "I know it's not."

Hunter had managed to stop his tears and even his shaking, but the pain remained. Why did everything have to be so hard? "It wasn't you, you weren't in control, you didn't have a choice."

"Yeah, but you don't believe that, you want to, but not enough time has passed." Wrecker, for all his messing around, all his jokes and recklessness, for all that, he sure knew a lot. He knew when he was too much, when he'd punched a little too hard, he knew every time he screwed up.

"I wish I didn't need time." Hunter let out a sigh, crossing his arms. All he ever did was feel bad. Physically and emotionally. This was getting rather draining. "I really wish I didn't need space from you."

"I know." Wrecker offered a pathetic smile, "But I hurt you. So I understand." Wrecker sighed as he walked to the doorway, preparing to leave. "It's okay, Hunter, you're allowed to be weary, because it's not me you're afraid of, it's what I can do." Hunter nodded.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Wrecker said, he would give his brother a hug but Hunter didn't want to be touched. He would wish his brother a 'goodnight' but 'goodnights' didn't exist anymore. Wrecker would smile, but he had no strength to. So what did he do? He gave Hunter a nod, "Stay here long as you need, just promise me one thing."

"Anything."

"Promise me you'll get some sleep, lil' bro."

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

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my-darling-boy · 3 years

Text

Right sorry I have to vent about something. I didn’t really want to post this but Oh Well it’s bothering me and I hope I’m not the only one who feels like this.

What I thought was me obsessing over a little mistake I made at work was actually the tip of the iceberg to this terror I feel internally realising as I get older, I’m required by society to mask my autism more and more because they see you as an inconvenience. But now that I’ve created this Highly Socially Convenient version of myself to fit into other people’s social standards, especially in the workplace, I can no longer make mistakes without people attributing them to laziness or carelessness or “stupidity”. It’s one of the many examples of people assuming “if I can’t see something, it doesn’t exist.” I’m constantly assessed with the “but you don’t LOOK autistic!” You shouldn’t have to know I’m autistic to start treating me with more care and respect.

If a customer is having trouble with the keypad, I don’t rip the thing around and jam their card in, annoyed. If a customer can’t hear me very well, I don’t roll my eyes when I have to repeat myself. If a coworker doesn’t understand how to use a register function, I don’t sigh heavily and shove them aside to fix it. Everyone is always apologising for making mistakes with their payment options or having to run back cos they forgot something or for “taking so long” or for doing this or that. People are sweating hurriedly counting out coins and notes and apologising but you don’t need to hurry! Take your time!! My line might be long but I know when I rush counting money, I get it wrong cos I can’t focus sometimes in chaotic, loud environments.

I’m so used to apologising for things I do as an autistic person and when I see others doing the same, I say they don’t have to be sorry. The checkstands are not easily accessible to understand or operate. People are rude and rushing. We’re wearing masks so it’s harder to hear/see facial expressions. Literally none of this is person’s fault, and yet they’re apologising like the checkstand or their communication style or even the angry customers behind them are their fault. And I do the same thing. The one thing I say ALL DAY LONG is “I’m sorry.” I say it so often that half the time I’m not even sure why I’m apologising, all I know is things that are out of my control are usually pinned as “my fault” somehow so I just say I’m sorry all the time. I’m apologising, the customer is apologising, my coworker is apologising, we’re all just so sorry for having to be in a building that isn’t meant to accommodate anyone.

Most of my interactions at work involve me making sure I’m being as accommodating as I can to who I’m speaking with because rarely are people accommodating towards me and I don’t want to make others feel like they’re an inconvenience the way I’ve been made to feel like one. I know by default that something that is easy for one person may not be easy for another person. And if an allistic person cares to think about this at all, it’s so bizarre to me that they assume it means a person is careless, lazy, or irresponsible.

I work retail and talking to people is literally my job, but it’s usually not an issue so long as they fit a social script in my head. Tasks are repetitive which means I learn them fast and perform them fast. When left alone, I resort to tasks I was shown how to do: clean, collect, etc. I follow instructions, ask questions. I’m always told I’m such a “competent, responsible employee” for this, even though 80% of my motivation for doing these things are out of constant fear of hidden consequences if I don’t do exactly as I’m told. And if someone starts saying I’m their favourite closer or the fastest cashier or the most helpful employee, I only get nervous about how disappointed this person would be in me if I showed any ounce of something different if one day I had a shutdown at work.

I wouldn’t know how to tell anyone why sometimes I’m a minute late to work for a few days, or why I lost track of time doing X, why X took me so long, why suddenly I don’t make a lot of conversation, why I suddenly lose ability to multitask, or why I keep making silly little mistakes when I “seem like such a good employee who can stay on top of things.” Sometimes I genuinely don’t know if I’ve done something wrong! There are grey areas of employment and social interaction that will always confuse me no matter what. Instead of taking just a moment to explain something I did incorrectly, or just take 10 seconds to show me how to do something, people right away are predisposed to snapping at you and being rude without so much as a little explaination to help you. And if they’re going to snap at me for a small question, how could I ever bring up something more? When? How? When a customer I’m not understanding is giving me a hard time, do I give into them and give them the discount they wanted and possibly get in trouble or do I call over a manager who is going to scold me for not understanding them?

There doesn’t seem to be a lot of space to discuss being autistic to anyone or time to dismantle stereotypes. I feel like I have to keep putting on a presentation and suppressing parts of myself or force myself to conform to allistic standards that make me uncomfortable while allistic people would never think about accommodating mine. I’ve heard so much offensive language towards autsitic people from basic team members, management, and customers at every job I’ve ever been at. And when something like that is THAT widespread and ingrained to how these people think, where and how do you even begin to address it? Who do you talk to? Who’s to say the person meant to handle these things at work isn’t making R word jokes minutes later?

Every job I get hired at assures me that I will be treated fairly, to the same standard as other employees. But to me, there seems to be something Off about fairness when it comes to performance. The problem is, the model of that standard is often a person who is not autsitic. I see it in the way supervisors walk up to me when I can’t get something to scan. I see it in the way they squint accusingly at me behind their mask if I need something explained more. I see it in the way coworkers have attributed their “stupid mistakes” to being “the r word”. They critisise lack of verbal communication or eye contact, they sigh when things need to be phrased differently, they stand impatiently while you’re trying to figure something out. In the break room, I hear people left and right laughing about or getting irritated over customers who are described as doing some of the things I do. I’ll always remember this one really nice customer who always came into the store and would put her items up on the counter slowly and would talk to you about her day, and I never had a problem with the speed at which she did anything because why would I? I don’t need to rush her, there’s no reason to. But a manager, after she had left one time, mimicked the way she spoke and said she was “the r word”. And I felt crushed.

No matter what a company says, in their eyes, we’re made to feel like the undesired. The inconvenience. The ones holding up lines or turning on the assistance blinkers at checkstands. There shouldn’t be people steaming behind us or snapping to go faster or shouting “Why don’t you understand?? Are you stupid??” I’ve found the discrimation against autsitic people in the workplace is a lot of times in subtlety, and to me it feels like what is being done to me isn’t noticable at first until I realise it’s eating away at me: the glares, the exaggerated sighs, the comments, the derogatory language. I always feel like someone standing outside a window while everyone else is on the inside. That’s what makes this type of treatment so insidious, because convenient for companies, they don’t have anything in their handbooks that protects me from their deeply imbedded practice of equating many traits of my autism with being an unsatisfactory employee. And usually by the time I’ve picked up on it, it’s too widespread for me to even sort out all that’s happened and I’m left feeling like I should just bear it. “Well then the job isn’t meant for you” someone might say. No, capitalist society doesn’t make room for people like me. In fact, I’ve never encountered a job that was meant for me. And I’m tired of having to say I’m sorry for myself and bend over backwards for capitalist “”””we’re a family”””” corporations and the society they’ve infected whom they’ve taught to not give two shits about people like me.

#sorry I just had a Time last night and had a breakdown in my car #smol talk #vent #long post #ok to rb

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rdmdani · 4 years

Text

Sing to Me? {Spencer Reid}

honestly I couldn’t help but write this. I wanted to make it a smut but I suck at smuts soooo here ya go. If I get enough asks or comments I may make a Spencer smut. Up to yall!!!!

word count: 2338

“Hey Reid?” you called from your desk as you prepared to leave. Reid perked his head up from his seat and made eye contact with you, “I rented this movie and Emily was supposed to come watch it with me but she ended up bailing. You want to join me? I have popcorn.”

Reid laughed lightly, packing up the remainder of his belongings, “Depends, what are we going to watch?”

“Some horror movie? I don’t know really, it was Emily’s turn to pick.”

Reid looked at you with furrowed brows, “Wait you two have regular movie nights?”

“Yeah, every other Friday if we’re off, why?” you asked but already knew the answer.

“How come I’m never invited?” he pouted, making his way over to you. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Emily and Derek watching the two of you. It was obvious why Emily canceled. She picked a scary movie, which is the one genre you cannot watch and then canceled on you? Plus, she knows that you were going to end up watching it regardless of her coming or not, you spent your money on that movie. You were going to watch it. Nightmares or not.

“I’m inviting you now?” you teased him, scrunching your nose playfully. Spencer laughed humorlessly and leaned against your desk. His eyes scanned your body for a short moment, but you weren’t going to mention it. Especially not right now where the entire team was listening to your conversation not-so-inconspicuously.

“Fine, but I have to make a quick stop before I come by,” he told you. You nodded simply as you slung your bag over your shoulder, “But don’t start making the popcorn until I get there. It’s better when it’s fresh.”

“Yes sir,” you mock him with a salute. Spencer raised his eyebrows at you before shaking his head.

“You’re ridiculous. I’ll see you at yours.”

Normally you would watch him walk away, but you had a feeling that Derek, Emily, and Penelope were going to mock you about that as well as (what she can only assume they’re going to call) the date night you just got planned.

“Got condoms waiting at home?” Derek said as he and the girls ran up to you, trying to make it to you before you could escape.

“Derek Morgan,” you sighed, turning and looking at your three desperate teammates, “it is a simple movie night. Me and Emily do it constantly and, though I have tried, there has been no lesbian action. So no, I will not be having this discussion with you.”

The girls perked up at the last sentence, noticing that you had not specified you wouldn’t spill to them, but you quickly shut that down as well, “Or you two. Especially not you, Emily. You knew that I wouldn’t watch that movie alone. You set this up, but I am sorry to inform you that it will not be going in that direction.”

“You say that now, but I have watched scary movies with you,” Emily teased, “You sure there hasn’t been any lesbian action?”

Derek and Penelope burst out laughing, but you just glared at her, “You are no longer my favorite. Hotch is my favorite.”

Hotch walked by you with a sly grin on his face, “Oh no, I was listening the entire time. I’m on their side.”

“Honestly!” you groaned, “Does no one have my back on this?”

The second Derek’s mouth opened you knew that you were in trouble, but he didn’t get to speak. Instead Penelope cut in and spoke the words you assumed Derek would’ve spoken, “Spencer will have you on your back, does that count?”

“I hate you. I hate you all,” you huffed as you turned around and headed towards the elevator, “Nothing is going to happen!”

When you stepped into the elevator, you didn’t see the faces of your friends. All of them had evil smirks on their faces, even Hotchner. If you would’ve looked, you would’ve been scared. But instead you looked down at your phone and saw a message from Spencer:

“Favorite candy?”

When you got back home, you saw Spencer standing at your door holding a few grocery bags. You laughed at the boy, seeing that he was struggling to carry it all as well as his own work bag.

“Why did you bring your work bag?” you asked with a soft chuckle, unlocking the door and taking a few bags out of his hands. He smiled sheepishly at you.

“Well neither of us had eaten dinner so I thought it would be nice if I cooked for us,” he spoke bashfully and followed you into the apartment.

“Well aren’t you a sweetheart,” you cooed, setting the bags on your kitchen table, “Anything I can help with?”

“No I think I have it, why don’t you shower and get changed?”

You looked at the boy with furrowed eyebrows, “You sure? I promise I won’t poison you.”

Spencer turned to you, “I’m not afraid you’ll poison me. Let’s just say I’m hoping I start getting my invitations to movie night from now on.”

You raised your hands in surrender, a small smile on your face, “Alright I’ll shower. And maybe if you don’t poison me you’ll be invited.”

Spencer rolled his eyes at you, shooing you away, “Go shower. It won’t take long for me to cook this.”

You wanted to stay there and help or at least stay and continue to tease him, but you decided that it would probably be best to just follow along with his plan. So you grabbed your clothes and headed to the shower. And maybe (just maybe) your friends got into your head and you ended up shaving your legs.

When you left the bathroom you could hear Spencer humming in the kitchen. So you stood there in the hallway and listened, a smile on your face. Something about him and his voice was so intoxicating and pure that it made it difficult for you to push yourself off the wall to join him. But eventually you did. You did because you heard Morgan’s taunting voice in the back of your head. So you pushed off the wall and shook away Morgan’s voice, joining your favorite team member in your kitchen.

Spencer turned around when he heard you walking in. He couldn’t help his eyes wandering down your body, enjoying the sight of you in shorts and a baggy shirt. When he finally met your eyes again, he smiled a sweet yet shy smile. He knew you saw him checking you out, he just hoped you wouldn’t mention it. If you don’t mention it then maybe the night would play out the way that everyone in the BAU was hoping. Including him.

Of course Spencer had no idea of Emily’s plan, but it wasn’t too hard to decipher. That’s why he decided on cooking dinner. He wanted her to see that he didn’t want to view this as just another friendly movie night. If you wanted it to stay friendly, then it would. But he wanted to show you that the option was definitely open for more if you wanted. He just hoped you wanted it.

“It’s almost ready,” Spencer said sweetly, “Do me a favor though? Don’t tell Rossi about my cooking. He’ll probably end up forcing me to learn actual cooking.”

“I promise I won’t,” you crossed your heart with a childish smile. Spencer watched you with an adoring smile on his lips. He liked this version of you. At work you’re a lot like him. You’re quiet because you have a lot of theories just roaming your head. Thousands upon thousands of random facts packed away in the files of your mind. That’s why the two of you got along so well. You and him are one in the same. But Spencer is like that 24/7, whereas you have this whole other personality outside of work. You were like a little ball of energy and smiles. He thought you were absolutely adorable. But he wouldn’t say that right now, no matter how much he wanted to. He wanted you to be the one to initiate it if you wanted anything to happen. So he swallowed down the words he wanted to say and settled with a simple smile, returning to his cooking.

“So Emily decided on some horror movie,” you said in an attempt to keep the conversation alive, “I think it was like Nightmare on Elm Road?”

Spencer snorted, setting down the wooden spoon he was stirring with and turning to look at you, “Nightmare on Elm Street.”

“Don’t laugh at me!” you huffed, crossing your arms and rolling your eyes, “I don’t exactly like horror movies.”

“Then why are we watching it?” he asked, moving the food off of the hot stovetop.

“Because Emily already had it rented and I’m weird about renting movies and not watching them. It bothers me.”

Spencer nodded his head slowly, taking in the information, “Okay, how about this… we play the movie but it’s on mute. We eat, watch the movie, and make up our own dialogue. I have seen it before so I can warn you when you need to look away. How does that sound?”

You looked at the gorgeous boy across from you with a giant smile on your face, “I have to admit that sounds really fun.”

“Then let’s do it. I’ll make the plates, you just set up the movie.”

As you walked into the living room you thought to yourself… maybe you should’ve listened to your friends before.

After an hour and a half of coming up with the stupidest dialogue possible for this movie, as well as hiding your face in a pillow when Spencer would tell you scary parts were coming up, you thought that maybe tonight could go the way everyone wanted. Including Reid. You’re smart. You knew exactly what Spencer was thinking and what he was wanting. You also knew that he was too much of a gentleman to initiate anything himself. At first you wanted to mess with him a little, tease him until he begged kind of thing… but when you looked over at him and saw how the sides of his eyes crinkled when he laughed you melted right there.

“Hey Spence?” you whispered, turning your body to face his. Spencer looked over at you, holding a confused expression on his face at the way you were facing.

“Yeah?”

“I know that Derek, Penelope, JJ, Emily- well practically all of our team had set this night up to where we would… you know,” you paused for a moment, taking in the expression on his face. He looked shocked, but you knew he wasn’t actually. Spencer knew you better than to think that you wouldn’t figure it out.

“We don’t have to,” Spencer spoke quickly before facepalming, “That was possibly the stupidest thing I could’ve said right then.”

You laughed at the boy, watching as he peeked out from behind the hands covering his face just so he could see your face as you laughed. He was adorable.

“I know that,” you finished laughing, smiling at him, slowly climbing into his lap. Once you got into a straddling position, looking down at the wide-eyed doctor, you spoke, “What would you say if I said I wanted to though?”

“I would say that there is a God and that he apparently loves me,” Spencer choked out, his hands moving to rest on your waist, “But then I’d ask you if you were playing with me because there is no way that you want me the way I have wanted you.”

“And what if I tell you I’m completely serious?” you asked in a near whisper, curling your fingers into his shirt. Spencer struggled to keep down a smile as his grip tightened on your waist.

“Then I’d kiss you a million times.”

“Do you promise?” as you asked, you lifted your pinkie finger up.

“One hundred percent,” he replied, twisting his finger around yours. Before you could say anything else, Spencer unraveled his finger and wrapped his hand around your wrist and pulled you forward. As you came towards him, he leaned forward, extending his free hand across your back and holding you in place before pressing his lips sweetly against yours.

Suddenly the entire world faded away. All that mattered was the way his lips perfectly curved into a smile as you kissed. There was only raspberry chewing gum and buttery popcorn. There was no BAU. No horror movie. You were in a dark room with just Spencer. That became your favorite place in the world. The kiss was slow and beautiful. There were atomic bombs and fireworks. Everything a Hallmark movie made you believe was real. Everything was perfect, but then Spencer pulled away. You pouted at him but didn’t say anything about it. Instead you brought something else up.

“I heard you humming in the kitchen earlier. Do you sing?”

“No,” he chuckled, “I don’t think anyone would want me to either.”

“I do,” you corrected him, cocking your head to the side, “Will you sing for me?”

“It’s hard to say no to you when you’re so cute, y’know?”

“I know,” you boasted, cuddling into his chest, “It’s my special gift. Helps me get whatever I want.”

“I’m not singing, no matter how cute you may be,” Spencer stated, but he didn’t understand how determined you were to hear him.

“I can change your mind.”

Spencer’s eyebrows shot up in question, an amused smile on his lips, “Oh really? How?”

“Let’s go to my room,” you whisper to him, dragging a single finger across his jawline, “If you’re lucky you can hear me sing.”

Spencer didn’t need you to say it twice. He lifted both of you up, keeping your legs wrapped around his waist, and took you to your bedroom.

Good thing you actually did have condoms at the house.

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fortisfiliae · 4 years

Text

Promised Part 7 - Tom Riddle x reader

Summary: In this story, Tom didn’t grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader’s sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Disclaimer: Please be aware that I don’t condone any of this in real life. (GIF is not mine)

Warnings: Arranged marriage

Word count: 3.1k

Part 7 - Gift Giving

“So this is the last part of the house. The bedrooms,” you said, after giving Tom a quick tour around the mansion. “The guestroom is right at the end of the hallway.”

Tom peered towards the half-open door to the guestroom, that the house-elves were preparing for him.

“This right there is Elsie’s room, next to it is the master bedroom. And this,” you said, leaning onto a door. “Is my room.”

He turned back to you.

“Want to come in?”

He nodded. “Sure.”

There was a sense of excitement in the air, letting Tom enter your room. It was something so private, it felt like you let him walk straight into your head. But you wanted to be nice. He still seemed crushed from the argument he had had with his grandfather and uncle and you thought it would make him feel better if you showed him he was welcome here.

“Take a seat if you want. Anywhere,” you said and went over to sit on your bed.

Tom slowly walked across the room towards your desk, his eyes incidentally scanning your belongings. He sat down on the chair by the desk and looked at the framed picture of you and your family that stood there.

“Sorry about my mother,” you mentioned when you noticed what he was inspecting.

Tom looked at you. “What do you mean?”

“She can be a bit brash, you know. When she asked you to stay earlier. But she usually means well.”

“Oh,” he spoke. “I didn’t mind actually. You know my family. They’re brash. And not the good kind.”

“Fair,” you agreed. “Have they always been that way?”

“Since I can remember at least.”

There was a moment of silence.

“I’m sorry,” you then said.

“For what? That’s just how it is. They have their ways and I have mine.”

“Right. Did you know they would bring up the unbreakable vow?“

“No… I had no idea. They’re idiots. Just stupid. Why ask for more each time? They always want to be a step ahead for nothing.”

“What did you say to them?” you asked, hiding that you already knew.

“That I wouldn’t do it. They took our word for it then and that should be enough. They can’t force us to do a vow.”

“Are they mad at you?”

“Yes. But they’ll come around. It wasn’t our first argument and it won’t be our last.”

You pondered if you should say what you were thinking. Maybe it was a bit too much, but Tom didn’t seem bothered talking about his family. So you went on: “Do you ever wish it could have been different? To grow up with your parents, I mean. That would have made it easier, don’t you think?”

Tom smiled weakly, his eyes wandered across the floor and he shook his head. “Wishing for something won’t make it happen. And no. It would have been quite the same, I think. Maybe even worse.”

“Worse?”

“You’ve heard how Marvolo talks about my parents. His daughter and a muggle. A stain in the bloodline he said, didn’t he?” Tom chuckled lowly.

“But if they loved each other that shouldn’t have mattered to him.”

His eyebrows rose in what looked like a strange form of amusement. “Well, that’s a whole other story.”

You frowned. What did that even mean? You had heard all kinds of rumours about the Gaunt family and how Tom’s parents had met but never would have thought that one of them might be true.

“Have they-”

Tom shook his head as he got up, making it clear that he wasn’t going to talk about it. He walked across the room towards you, fiddling something out from the inner pocket of his jacket.

You had gone too far apparently and wondered if he was pulling out his wand or wanted to leave, but as you opened your mouth again, he sat down beside you and looked into your eyes.

“I’m going to tell you,” he said. “Not now though. You’re going to know everything about me eventually. Someday.”

“Someday then,” you repeated. “What have you got there?”

He held the thing from his jacket in his hand now. It was a package that seemed a bit squished as if it had barely fit into the pocket.

“Hold on,” he said and waved his wand at it, to smooth out the wrinkles on the paper. It was a present, a rectangular box, covered in dark green gift wrap.

“I thought it would be impolite to come over for lunch without bringing at least a little Christmas gift.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have,” you said as he handed over the present.

“Go on, open it,” he said and motioned with his hand.

So you did and quickly found out what the package contained. A small handwritten book, full of potions recipes.

“Nicked it from my uncle when he wasn’t looking,” Tom said. “So you better don’t mention it to him.”

“Oh great,” you laughed as you flipped through it. “Wow, I haven’t heard of any of these.”

“None of them are taught in school. I thought you’d like them. Didn’t seem like the ones we do with Slughorn were much of a challenge for you.”

The book looked as if it had been used a lot. The thin black binder was frayed and faded, and the edges of the pages were crinkled. On every other page, the handwriting changed, so it seemed that many different people had written the recipes. Poisons, antidotes and bewitchments you had never heard of were all listed, neatly explained and completed with full lists of ingredients.

“Where did your uncle get this from?” you asked, still looking through it.

“I’m not sure. Knockturn Alley perhaps, or on some market. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had added a few ones himself.”

As peculiar as it was, not many people could say they got a book of dark magic and probably illegal potions for Christmas.

“What an unusual gift. I do like it. Thank you, really!” you said and opened your arms to hug him, out of pure habit, but froze when you saw his stern expression, your arms still open.

He looked into your eyes again, seemed to think for a moment and finally nodded to let you hug him. Just like when you had held hands, he was stiff and rigid, it felt like he was uncomfortable. You retracted, but as soon as you let go, he wrapped his arms around you and held you a little tighter, extending the embrace for a few more seconds.

There was a ghost of a smile on his face when you sat back straight and he was about to say something when the door flew open.

Tummy, one of the house-elves, stood in the door frame. “Miss, the guestroom is ready. Mister Riddle, Sir, please follow me.”

“Great,” Tom whispered sarcastically under his breath, got up and followed the elf.

You quickly hid the book under your pillow and called after them: “It’d be nice if you could knock next time, Tummy!”

“Sorry Miss! Will knock!” you heard him from the hallway.

When Mother called for dinner in the evening you picked up Tom from the guest room and went downstairs.

Sitting at the table together was a bit awkward at first and no one said anything. It seemed that your parents were still thinking of the incident from lunch, but didn’t want to talk about it in front of Tom. You didn’t know what to say either and Tom wasn’t one to talk much in general.

“Tom?” Elsie said all of a sudden, breaking the silence.

“Yes?” he answered and you looked back and forth between the two.

“Did you know I’ll go to Hogwarts too next term?” Elsie went on, a very proud tone in her voice.

He grinned while picking up some green beans with his fork. “I did know that, yes.”

“I haven’t gotten the letter yet, so technically I don’t know if I’ll get in, but my parents said it will come on my eleventh birthday.”

“I’m sure it will.”

He had barely finished his last word when Elsie asked the next thing.

“What’s your favourite subject?”

“Um… Defence Against The Dark Arts, I think,” Tom said. “It’s interesting enough.”

“Why?”

“Well,” he took a second to think. “I like to be prepared.”

“And you’re in Slytherin, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Do you have a favourite house?”

You caught your parents exchanging looks and smiling at each other.

“Um… Well,” Elsie began. “I think they’re all nice. But Gryffindor is the best I guess.”

Tom clicked his tongue and shook his head jokingly. “Shame,” he said.

“Do you play Quidditch?” Elsie asked.

“No, I’m not into sports.”

“But can you fly?”

“Yes, I’m a decent flyer.”

She looked at your parents for a moment and whispered to Tom: “Do you think you can show me? How to fly a broom. I got one for Christmas, you see. And I-”

“Elsie,” Father said laughing. “Let the boy eat, please.”

“No, I can show you,” Tom said. “It’s the least I can do to show my respect after you’re letting me stay here.”

“That’s very kind of you Tom,” Mother said. “And you can stay as long as you like.”

“Thank you. I won’t bother you for long though,” he answered.

Dessert was served and Elsie peppered Tom with questions about brooms until Father finally told her to leave him alone.

You thought of the book he had gifted you and knew that your parents would be pleased to hear that at least one member of the Gaunt family had manners. They didn’t need to know exactly what it was about.

“Tom gave me a Christmas present earlier,” you said.

He shot you a quick look as if to ask you if you were out of your mind telling your parents about this. You ignored him.

“Oh really?” Father asked. “What is it?”

“A Potions book. Handwritten. It looks very rare,” you said and looked at Tom who was still staring at you. “It’s like an extended version of our school books. I can use it to perfect my skills. Maybe I’ll even get an O on my N.E.W.T.s because of it.”

“Oh lovely,” Mother said. “Where have you got that from?”

“Diagon Alley,” Tom lied and seemed to be more relaxed now.

“Very nice,” Mother said and turned towards you. “But you didn’t have anything for him, did you?”

“No,” you mumbled.

“Well, let’s talk about that another time. Tom, have you heard about the time when we went on a trip to Italy?”

Later that night, when you lay in bed, you pulled the book out from under your pillow and held it for a while. It probably wasn’t even meant to be so special, but the fact that Tom had thought of giving you a present for Christmas, was not what you would have expected.

And you hadn’t even wasted a single thought about getting him something. How ignorant.

You wondered how he felt about that. If he even felt about that, one way or another.

Your fingertip ran up and down the book spine countless times while you stared up onto the ceiling. You had to get him something. Something special.

And then you wondered if he couldn’t sleep either. If he wanted to talk for just a bit as well. If he thought about lying next to you, too. You could try to sneak out of your room and over to the guest room. Your parents wouldn’t like that of course, but you were going to marry him. They had to get used to the thought. And if you were quiet enough, they wouldn’t even notice.

You sat up slowly, put the book back under your pillow and tiptoed to the door of your room. Turning the doorknob as quietly as possible and holding your breath, you looked out into the dark hallway. You wouldn’t even need light, you knew this hallway like the back of your hand. Fifteen, maybe twenty quick steps and you would be right by the door to the guest room. So you took the first step out of your room.

“Miss!” a squeaky voice whispered in the dark from below.

It was Tummy, standing there alone.

“Tummy?” you asked quietly. “What are you doing here?”

“Miss, master told Tummy to keep watch all night. So that Mister Riddle wouldn’t disturb you in your room.”

Great. Your parents were a few steps ahead.

“Can Tummy get you anything, Miss?”

“No, I… I just thought I heard something,” you sighed. “Does Father really force you to stay up all night? You can go downstairs to sleep if you want to.”

“No, Miss, no,” the elf said and smiled. “Tummy sleeps right here on the floor. I have very good ears, yes. I hear every little noise, you see? I will wake up whenever I hear something and alert the masters.”

Unbelievable. They had thought of everything.

“I see,” you said. “But I’m not afraid Tom would disturb me. You really can go downstairs.”

“Miss, Tummy is thankful for your offer, but I must follow the master's order. Tummy doesn’t mind it.”

“Alright then,” you gave up. “Hang on though.”

You went back into your room, walked up to your bed and fetched one of the three pillows from there.

“Take this at least,” you told the elf and gave him the pillow. “It’s big enough for you to sleep on.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary. Please.”

“I insist,” you said with a jokingly strict tone.

Tummy smiled, took the pillow and nodded. “Thank you, Miss. Tummy is very grateful.”

“Good night, Tummy.

“Good night, Miss.”

The following day went by quicker than you had wanted it to. Father, Tom and Elsie went outside in the late morning to give Elsie her long-awaited flying lessons. They were a great team, against all expectations. You watched them from the kitchen window and noticed how Father held himself back from helping. He kept a careful eye on the two when Tom showed Elsie how to mount the broom correctly.

Elsie listened intently to everything Tom told her, tried to follow each step precisely and could properly hold herself in the air after a while. Father and Tom seemed incredibly proud, not only of themselves but of your little sister.

You could have watched them for hours, but Mother had called you to the reading room, to go to Diagon Alley via the Floo Network. You had asked her to take her with you since you wanted to get some new quills for school and a proper Christmas present for Tom.

Thankfully Diagon Alley wasn’t too busy, yet it took you a while to find an appropriate gift. You hadn’t even known where to start looking, but when you finally saw it in the shop window, you knew it was perfect.

Back home, Elsie, Father and Tom were just walking back inside, their cheeks and noses all plump from the hours they had spent out in the cold. Elsie jumped through the living room excitedly and told Mother and you how high up she was able to fly now. She had even attempted to do some advanced twists but almost had taken a fall.

Father patted Tom on the shoulder and thanked him for his time, which made Tom’s ears turn almost as pink as his cheeks and nose.

After congratulating your sister on her achievement, you turned to Tom and said: “Would you follow me? There’s something I want to show you.”

You took him to the reading room, where the parcel you got him stood under the desk.

“Long day, huh?” you asked when you closed the door behind you.

He nodded. “Long but successful. Your sister is a quick learner. She could make it on the Quidditch team one day.”

“Thank you for teaching her,” you said. “We all appreciate it.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

Now that you were with him, you didn’t know where to start. Should you tell him about lying in bed with the book in your hand, thinking of him? That you almost would have knocked on his door in the middle of the night, if Tummy had not been there? That could sound terribly invasive. What if he wouldn’t have wanted you to come? Now that you thought about it, you were glad that Tummy had spoiled your plan. Nighttime certainly made you too reckless.

“I hope you slept well,” you mumbled mindlessly. Merlin, why would you say that?

“I um…” Tom looked at you surprisedly. “Yes, I did.”

“Good.”

“If it wasn’t for the elf in the hallway, it would have been even better,” Tom added nonchalantly.

How would he also know about Tummy? Did he leave his room too? You scanned him questioningly and Tom smirked.

“Father is overprotective,” you answered.

“Shame, isn’t it?”

“Certainly.”

You looked at each other, both with mischievous smiles on your faces. It would not have been awkward at all if you had gone over to his room last night. Tummy be damned.

“I thought of your present a lot,” you went on, changing the subject. “And I decided I had to get you something as well.”

“Not necessary. Your family let me stay the night, that’s more than en-”

“Stop it,” you snapped playfully and went to get the parcel from under the table. “There’s not a lot of things I thought suited Tom Riddle. But this does, I believe.”

He took the box with both hands, as it was quite big, placed it onto the desk and pulled off the top.

“Oh,” he breathed when he looked inside.

“Her name is Nagini. She’s not fully grown yet.”

Tom took a dark green, medium-sized snake out of the box and let it curl around his arm.

“Did you know?” he asked.

“Know what?”

“That I’m a Parselmouth.”

“Yes,” you nodded. “People in Hogwarts were talking about it years ago and then I thought of your house and your relation to Salazar Slytherin. It made sense.”

“Thank you,” he said genuinely, looking into your eyes before he watched Nagini gliding from one of his arms to the other. “Stretch out your arm for me.”

You did and let your fingers touch his. Both of you now stood there with one arm pointing towards each other. The snake slithered around Tom’s arm, quickly making its way towards his outstretched fingers and over to yours. It hissed quietly while wandering up to your shoulder.

“She likes you,” Tom said softly. “A lot.”

Credit where credit is due: My boyfriend came up with the house-elf’s name. I don’t know where that came from but I won’t make him stop. He also gave him a short backstory. I might try to implement it into the story line if you’re interested.

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heavenunderthemoon · 3 years

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Ten Fingers, Ten Toes: JJ x Male Reader

Sent in anonymously: Reader and JJ are married and he works for the fire department. They have to work together for a case with an arsonist. While visiting the suspect's house, he smells gas and tells JJ to be careful. As they slowly approach the house the suspect has a gun to their head with the cooker on. JJ tries to calm the unsub down but it doesn't work so he points the gun at JJ and the reader tackles him from behind before pushing JJ out of the house before it blows up."

disclaimer: I have NEVER written anything x male reader before so please, please, please be gentle with me.

warnings: fire, explosions, injuries, violence, angst.

Words: 5,589

It was rare that you and JJ ever met up on duty. So rare, in fact, that it just hadn't happened. In your ten years of marriage, it hadn't occurred even once. Arson charges in Quantico weren't rare, there just weren't that many serial arsonist charges for the BAU to pick up, and even so, your fire station wasn't in the districts that it had occurred the three times JJ's team had been called. But, this time was different.

The BAU arrived in its usual fashion, two separate government-issued SUV's, black and shining, dark as the soot that no doubt remained on your face from this morning's bout of firefighting. It had been a tough one, ventilation becoming a bit risky when your team noticed the roof was easily collapsible, but Station 13 had gotten the job done, as they always did. Your hands paused in their movements of shifting debris when the doors on the SUV's began to open, one of them revealing a rather familiar blonde figure, their bright blue eyes scanning the scene rapidly.

You smiled, knowing what the agent was looking for.

Letting out a low whistle, you made your way to the woman who's shoulders instantly relaxed when she saw you, eyes lingering on the damage done to the place. You knew precisely what was going through her mind, simply because it often rang through yours.

You both worked dangerous jobs, one running into fires and the other chasing down psychopaths who had a penchant for murder. Worrying about your spouse practically came with the marriage license. It had been something discussed extensively on both ends before you had gotten down on one knee all that time ago, asking for her hand in marriage. But, despite the multitude of reasons not to and the fears of what would come forth in the face of it all, there was a singular reason that made you both forget the rest; "I love you", You had said when she had asked, a shrug that told her how simple of an answer it was, but the look in your eye telling her that your love for her wasn't simple at all. Not really. It was convoluted and complex and deep and consuming and that was enough for her. That was more than enough for her.

So, each day when you went off to fight your fires and she went off to fight the monsters, you both reminded each other of that, of that love, that feeling of taking a leap, praying for a happy ending in which you both came home alive each night just to do it all again in the morning.

Except, now, here she was, and here you were, both of your battles being condensed into one.

"The calvary's arrived." You praised with a smirk.

Her blue orbs, intensified by the dreariness of the burnt surroundings, glanced over your body.

God, those eyes. Those eyes that you had fallen in love with, fallen so extremely and irrevocably hard for. Two glistening, gleaming, and just about every other synonym for glistening and gleaming under the sun, orbs that were like two little tiny pools of water. Water, a bit ironic given your occupation of fighting fires, but water all the same. Except, it wasn't exactly water, because you didn't think of water when you saw them you just thought of JJ, and that feeling you got around JJ. That fuzzy feeling in your chest, that dizzy feeling in your head and that tingly feeling in your legs that made you feel like you couldn't walk. The eyes that elicited those feelings were on you, checking for damage, scanning for injuries.

The turnout gear still laid heavy on your figure, but you stood tall beneath the weight of it all, accustomed to the sheer mass that it added. It was covered in ash, and stitched in tightly woven thread on your coat's breath pocket was your name. "Captain Y/N L/N", it read.

JJ remembered how you had received that promotion last year, the ceremony that Henry and Michael had tottered along to, how you had hoisted Henry up on your shoulder, Michael on your hip, insisting that your wife come by your side for a picture, one she cherished dearly. It sat in her wallet now and the weight of it in her jacket pocket felt heavier now for some reason.

When her eyes came back to your face, she frowned, her fingers coming up to rub your cheek. "You look like hell."

Worry. That was the look on her face, scanning the remnants of the house that had recently been ablaze but was now just smoldering ash. Your team packing things up as JJ's got to work, picking their way through the remains, asking Station 13 questions so to jump start their investigation.

"Thank you, darling, I just got back." You quipped cockily and she rolled her eyes, a twitch of her lips to indicate that she wasn't all too irritated with you, really. Just for show.

Her hand dropped, landing in her crossed arms as she faced the house, eyes narrowing as she entered her work mode, something you found rather amusing. You had rarely seen JJ in her work mode, and she you. You both liked to keep those versions of you separate, tucked away in the attic space of your minds, dirty blemishes to be hidden when around each other not because you were hiding secrets but because your demons, both of your demons were just something you needed to fight alone. The ghosts that followed JJ home after cases, whispering in her ear, nipping at her heels and the flames that engulfed you after calls, burning your eyes, searing your skull.

"So, what happened?"

You nodded, settling into work mode yourself. "We got the call around 5:30 am, house fire, one alarm. Family was asleep in the house, barely had time to notice anything was wrong before it was up in flames-"

"Carson family." She breathed, eyes flickering to you sympathetically. "Are they-"

"Alive and stable." And for a moment your chest swelled with pride. It hadn't seemed a possibility that morning, for the entire family to walk away as fortunately as they had. Sure, their entire house was gone, vanquished in nothing short of forty-five minutes, but their lives, each and every one of them, had been saved and it had everything to do with your team. A flash of that morning, the little girl in your arms, the mask around her face- your mask that you had taken off and given to her, just to give her lungs a few moments of relief- and her fingers clutching your turnout coat as you carried her out of the burning building. Those were the moments you lived for, the moments that made you proud for the occupation choice. "The parents got the worst of it, third degree burns, smoke inhalation damage, but nothing that the hospital can't fix. The kids are fine, I heard their grandparents are staying with them at the hospital until their parents are given the all clear."

She nodded, a bounce of her blonde hair. "That's good."

"It is," You nodded, motioning for her to follows you as you began your walk to the west wing of the house. "We thought it might've been a freak accident, faulty wiring or maybe a gas leak from the stove, but one of my guys found this." The two of you stopped, her shoulder lightly grazing yours.

Her eyes followed the gesture your hands made, landing on an object on the floor. There, covered in soft and ash, discarded on the floor of what used to be a beautiful two story home, was a bottle, its liquid remains only droplets now, the cloth poking out of it burned to shreds.

"Make-shift Molotov cocktail? You're sure?" She bent down, pulling on a latex glove and picking it up cautiously, turning it around in her hands before signaling one of her guys to come a grab it.

You had met the team, of course, you knew them quite well actually. Derek nodded at you, the two of you sharing a brotherly pat on each other's back before he was grabbing the evidence, scooping it into a plastic bag.

"Yep. When I saw it I called you, figured it might be the beginning of a string of fires."

The blonde sighed. "Smart call." There was something else in her voice, concern, stress, everything in between, and your own eyes narrowed, something that made her chest flair with warmth.

She never had to say anything. She didn't have to say that getting your call at seven in the morning, a time she usually spent feeding the boys before turning them over to the nanny who would inevitably be relieved at the end of your twenty-four hour shifts but was interrupted by that incessant ringing.

You had changed it from the default ring almost two years ago.

"What are you doing?" The blonde had laughed, reaching for the phone you had swiped out of her hands but you held it above you head, your figure towering over hers and her laughter had made the chuckle rumble in your throat just the way she liked it.

"I've gotta change it, so you know it's me."

You had fixed her with that stare, the one she knew you gave your team, the "I'm the Fire Captain and you have to listen to me" stare, though you knew it had never worked on her. To her, she said, it looked like you were constipated, but it always made her roll her eyes with that shit-eating smile, so you did it anyways.

"Yes, because in a world with Caller I.D., I will never know it's my husband." Tired of standing on her tippy-toes, she had slumped against your chest defeatedly, taking in your warmth, listening to your heartbeat as she listened to you choose that god forsaken song that she knew that you knew she hated- one that you two had fought over its validity as a song on one of your first dates when it came on in a sandwich shop.

"I'm Henery the Eighth I Am..." Played from the woman's speakers and she groaned, hitting her forehead against your chest in a playful headset that had made you roar with laughter.

"Perfect."

It had been that terrible, dreadful song, the song that would always remind her of you that interrupted her morning and made her heart stop because you never called her on shift unless something was wrong. Unless the fire had nipped at you a little too roughly, unless you were sitting in a hospital bed getting patched up. She had answered that call with a dry throat and almost forgot how to breathe until your voice telling her you were okay reached her ears. "I'm okay, but I think you should see this."

And now, at a time she should be focusing on her job, focusing on telling Aaron Hotchner what her husband just told her, focusing on the family that had luckily made it out unscathed, she wasn't. She was focusing the man before her, her man, her Y/N.

She was focusing on you because for once she was seeing your world, your world past the nice and cozy firestation that she had seen before, polished and clean. That fire station you had showed her on one of your days off, giving her a tour, silently telling her that you were okay, that you were always going to be okay. Now, she was seeing your team, people she had met before but now under your authority, placing all the gear they had used meticulously back into the rigs, and you, covered in soot with that look in your eyes. That look that made her hate you and fall back in love with you every time. The look of a hero. Because heroes are the ones who run into the burning buildings not away and the thought of you running into a burning building, somewhere you would go and not come back and leave her and Michael and Henry in the lurch made her sick to her stomach.

And you saw that.

"Hey," You said softly, noticing that far off look in her eyes. "Hey," You repeated once you noticed she hadn't responded the first time, lightly grabbing her shoulder. "I'm fine. We're all fine. Look," Your eyes were boring into hers, those baby blues that your sons had inherited because, god, they were spitting images of her and it was something you reveled in. Your fingers wiggled out of the gloves, ripping the other off and wiggling your newly exposed fingers to the woman. "Ten fingers, ten toes. I'm good."

It was silly, something you two had always recited, a mantra of sorts, when one of you injured themselves. A tiny little saying, one that said "I'm still alive, I'm still kicking, and you're not getting rid of me that easily", without saying it at all. Picking her up from the airport after she called to tell you of her injuries, her small smile at the concern that would always be evident on your face no matter how many times she assured you. And she would take your face in her hands, make you look her in the eyes.

'Ten fingers, ten toes.' She would say with a playful smirk, wiggling them against your cheeks and you would smile, resting your forehead against her and now she did the same. A sigh on defeat or relaxation or maybe just a release of a breath she didn't know she had been holding.

She looked at you, eyes narrowing playfully once more. "You're cheating, I can't see your toes in those boots."

You laughed, that hearty rumble she adored and the two of you set to work.

Everything would be fine.

Everything was not fine.

"Are you mad at me?"

Frozen grass crunched beneath your feet. It was a cold day, winter still biting at Spring's heels and the brisk air was enough to make you wish you had more cover than the leather jacket slung over your shoulders. And if you were cold you knew JJ was (The girl was raised in a warm climate and basically declared it was winter anytime it hit below seventy degrees.). A quick glance to the blonde- who was apparently very cross with you at the moment- met you with a rather terse look, her lips pursed, eyes forward as she surveyed the side of there house, gun raised before her.

The last day and a half had been spent working hand in hand with the FBI.

It was almost like a game. The BAU spent their time assessing the victims, analyzing patterns, attempting to predict where the arsonist might hit next, though it was a game of cat and mouse because they hadn't perfected it, not yet. And your Station was getting called, putting out every fire just to jump to the next and when the team had finally determined a suspect, JJ was declared to be on the group to survey their house, it hadn't even taken you a moment to suggest your team join as well.

'Fire safety,' you had told Hotchner, 'Wouldn't it be safer to have us by your side in case he gets set off?' and much to JJ's chagrin, he had agreed. The fire rig itself was set up two blocks away, lights and sirens off, just waiting to be called upon, your team inside of it.

That was one of the perks of being Captain, you supposed. Calling the shots, getting to pick and choose when you ran into the fire, delegating your skills to the most high-priority situations and, yes, while you told your Station that the high-priority you were attending to was a possible additional fire as you approached the arsonist's house, they all knew the real reason. They knew it was the blonde by your side, no matter how angry she was with you.

"Okay, so you are mad at me." You nodded at confirmation of your previous question, one that had gone unanswered, and were met by a sharp glare before her eyes were back on the house.

The neighborhood itself was rundown, an area of town about to be lost to construction, properties being seized by the government, one of the arsonist's assumed triggers. His house was one of the only ones left on his block, sagging defeatedly on the corner of the street.

The other pair, Spencer and Derek, from the BAU crawled amongst the property, paired off and speaking into their walkies, both of them attempting to see inside of the house, cautious of how to approach.

"I'm not mad, I'm focusing."

You snorted. "Well that's funny, 'cause your focusing face and your mad face have a hell of a lot in common."

It wasn't a moment longer before she was huffing, pausing in her movements before tossing a glance to you over her shoulder. "Stop messing around, Y/N-"

"JJ-"

Her state was almost as cold as the weather. "No, this is serious. There's a killer in there and you're out here joking around-"

"JJ-"

And her gun was lowering itself for just a fraction of a second, eyes fixing you with that stern gaze of hers that she normally used with the children but still managed to make you feel just as intimidated as they probably did when it was used on them.

"You volunteered to come with us to catch a serial killer-"

"I know-" You tried, but you knew that look in her eye, that rise of an octave. The tone that let you know that she wasn't mad, she wasn't angry, she wasn't even furious, she was terrified.

And damn, you hated that. You hated that she was terrified, because you were terrified too. You had been ever since Hotchner had told her, Spencer and Derek to check out the possible unsub's house. Ever since those words had left his lips it was as if your mind had gone blank, something JJ would claim it perpetually was, but it wasn't. Usually, your mind raced about a million miles per hour, never slowing, never seizing, except for that moment, that moment that had made your stomach drop and throat clog. That moment that had you volunteering to go with her without hesitance because you were scared, scared because this was what she did on a daily basis and yes, while you thought about it, talked about it, and apparently had gotten over it long ago, you hadn't really because this wasn't just something you got over.

Having your wife chase serial killers wasn't something you could just be okay with and if you were given an opportunity to go with her, to watch over her, to look out for her, god damnit you would.

"You chose to put yourself in danger. It's different when it's your job, but, god damn it, Y/N, you don't have to be here-"

And whatever she was going to say next was interrupted, the porch light flickering on, that dim yellow bulb cackling under the sheet of ice it was buried in. The back porch became illuminated, revealing a broken rocker chair, it's left arm chair giving way due to mold or rot, caved into the smooth seat of the chair. It sat limply on the porch, those floorboards creaking in the winter wind and the two of you froze, her gun rising.

"Stay here."

Under different circumstances you might have laughed.

Under different circumstances, you might have thrown your head back and let loose that deep, throaty laugh that JJ always said was contagious.

But you didn't. You couldn't.

You couldn't help the dumbfounded expression covering your face, watching as your wife, your best friend, the mother of your children, began to climb the stairs of a serial arsonist, demanding for you to stay put. You couldn't help that swell in your chest, a swell of anger, no doubt, not at her, because you had known precisely what kind of person she was when you married her. You had known the minute you had met her in that crowded, smelly bar, the both of you both coming back from a long day at work, her tired eyes meeting yours and that wicked smile pulling you in.

You had known from just that first look that she would be hard work. And she had proven that every step of the way. She had proved that by demanding a background check before you two officially went on your first date (that first night in the bar didn't count, she said matter-of-factly.), or by all of her weird quirks and tics. Like, for instance, if you got her skittles she would patiently wait while you picked out all the green ones (They taste like toilet bowl cleaner and the longer they're in there with the other ones the more the taste will rub off on the good ones). Or that how if she vacuumed she absolutely had to have precise vacuum lines (if they weren't perfect, she started over, no matter what.). Or even how she set seven alarms in the morning, snoozing each and every one because she knew eventually you'd get too agitated by the constant interruptions to your sleep that you'd wake her up with your groans and force her out of bed far better than any alarm ever could.

You had known that she would be hard work, yes, but you also knew that she would be worth it. Every smile, every kiss, every laugh, all of it. And so when she told you to stay put you could hardly reign in your outrage enough to keep your voice to a hushed whisper.

"No, I'm coming with you." And your foot began to raise, began to make its way onto that creaky, rotted, in need of a paint job floorboard of a porch before JJ was stopping you.

"No. You might be a Captain, but out here, I call the shots. Stay here and don't do anything stupid." And she was slipping into the back door before you could grab her. Before you could pull her into your arms and stop her.

And you were alone, alone with only the porch light flickering every so often, threatening to give way, that snow underneath your boots clinging to the soles of your shoes the longer you stood there.

How long had you been standing there, staring at the back porch door? You wracked your brain, trying to remember if JJ had said anything to Reid and Morgan about going into the house? Had she called for backup? You wished you had a communication piece on you, wished you had some way to make sure that JJ wasn't in there alone because, yes while you trusted her wholeheartedly, you didn't trust a batshit crazy arsonist who had started a string of fires.

Your nose twitched, snapping you out of your thoughts.

What was that smell? That smell, sharp to the nose, stinging your eyes, making the back of your neck hairs stand erect-

Your feet were moving, moving carefully and efficiently, trying not to make a noise but trying to get into the house as quickly as possible.

Gasoline.

That was what you could smell. You had smelled it a million times before, and this smell was no different, except it was. It was different. This time was a million times worse than any other time you had smelled it because JJ was inside the house. She was inside the house that reeked of gasoline, inside a potential explosion, and you needed to get in there as quickly as possible and so your hand was pulling not he back door and you were lurching inside the house.

"Trevor, I just want to talk, okay? Put the gone down-"

The back door let into the dining room, the inside of the house looking just as dilapidated as the outside of the home. Family pictures were strewn about the walls, each hanging just as crooked as the next. The glass was covered in dust, so much so that the pictures weren't even recognizable underneath, and the roof tilted at a downward angle so threateningly low you worried it might just collapse with the mere addition of your body inside it.

You could hear voices beyond the wall of the dining room, JJ's first, and it made your heart beat a little less frantically (though that wasn't;t saying much because right now you were pretty sure your heart was doing a line dance), and then the unsub's- Trevor.

Your hair brushed the wall as you peeked past it, clinging to that wall like it was a lifeline and in that moment it was. In that moment, it was the only thing separating you and the man pointing a gun at your wife.

When you saw the scene your throat struggled to contain the bile rising at the sight of it. Trevor stood nearest to you, his back to you completely, in fact. A dirtied t-shirt, one covered in scorch marks and ash hung loosely on his figure. He was small, smaller than you had imagined an arsonist to look like, which, you supposed arsonists don't particularly have a look, but still, he didn't look...evil and you had always supposed that bad guys looked evil. But this one didn't. No, other than his dirtied shirt he looked like a normal guy, except, of course, for the gun pointing at his temple.

There was a clicking sound filling the air, that familiar clicking sound that made you divert your attention to the stove, confirming your suspicions immediately. The gas was on, leaking it into the house and your head was already beginning to ache at just the smell.

And then there was JJ.

She noticed you immediately and she made a damn good job of covering that. Briefly, her eyes met yours, and you didn’t need words for you to understand. There was rage at you for following her, guilt because somehow she thought this was her fault, gratefulness because maybe she wouldn't have to leave here in a body bag and fear because what if your children grew up without both of their parents?

"Trevor, listen to me-"

Her voice was steady. How was her voice so steady?

"No! I'm done talking to you bitch!"

And just like before, just like when Hotchner was ordering JJ to go to the unsub's house, time slowed. Time slowed, and it became a long, torturous, eternal moment that made your mind wipe straight clean once more because there was really only one thing that could make it do that and she was standing right in front of you. The girl that had seen you from across that crowded bar, a bar that she later said was disgusting and dirty and made her boots stick to the floor, but would always pull you to because it was sentimental and they made good burgers. The girl who had answered your marriage proposal with "What took you so long?", which, would've been acceptable had your proposal not been asked three months to the day when you met her (Hey, when you knew, you knew.). The girl who talked through movies, beat you in poker, ate all your fries when she said she wasn't hungry and just a million other things that you hadn't even known you remembered until that moment when suddenly her very being was being threatened.

That girl was having a gun pointed toward her, and so you reacted.

Your body tackled the man before you easily, causing you both tp fall tp the ground in a jumble of limbs and grunts and the gun wasn't leaving his hand so easily but none of that mattered because you saw your chance.

You saw your chance for one more tackle and damn JJ was going to be extremely pissed at you, but it didn't matter because you were doing it before she could even register your movements to protest it. Your body slammed into hers, twisting your body in mid-air, preparing it for the impact it would surely take through the boarded up windows that were about to become a bit more open than before.

The wood splintered across your back, your head throbbed at the hit, but you barreled through just as you heard Trevor yell and, stupidly, predictably, unfortunately, he shot and as soon as he did, the heat from the bullet related to the gasoline in the air.

Your bodies hit the snow in record time, yours on top of hers, and the sheer heat from the blast was enough to make you never want to hear the words "Liar, liar pants on fire", again.

Breathing. Breathing and sirens and ringing, a horrible ringing in your ears that was quickly subsiding and a pulsing through your head that was not. You peeled yourself off of her with a grunt, your back landing roughly next to hers, the snow quickly clinging to the back of your jacket.

The two of you stayed that way for a moment, just a moment, because you both knew Derek and Spencer were just around the corner and if they found you two lying on the floor their first reaction would be to think you were both dead (partially because of your position on the floor and partially because of the fact that your left eyebrow was singed off and you were pretty sure your head was leaking out some blood onto the blanket of snow beneath you). In that moment, that tiny brief moment, your hand grasped hers, squeezing it, before sitting up with another groan.

She looked...like crap. Her hair was wet and frizzy, nose red to the bone, cheeks covered in dirt of ash, wood littered across her bulletproof vest, and her pony tail had loosened to the extent that half of it was just pouring onto the side other face. But she still looked beautiful to you.

“You did something stupid.” She said exasperatedly, reminding you of the last thing she told you not to do before leaving you alone but it hardly registered to you.

"I had to." You said quietly, so quietly that your ringing ears even had trouble hearing it but the squint of her eyes let you know she heard you just fine. "Earlier, you said I didn't have to be here."

You were not a quiet man. You just weren't. You were loud and brave and funny and JJ had always adored that about you but she loved these moments too. These moments where you were quiet, reserved, and afraid, because it showed her that you weren't just some pompous meathead charging into fires irresponsibly. It showed her that even the bravest of the brave get scared, and that fear was what would stop you from making a decision that would leave her in a world without you.

Her eyes softened. "You know what I meant-"

Your bottom lip quivered, hands going up to attach themselves to her cheek, just to feel her, to know she was real, that she was there, that she was alive. "I cannot lose you. I know that you do this everyday, and I know that you are good at your job, and I know that you probably had it handled back there, but damnit JJ, I was scared, okay? I'm sorry, but I was scared and I needed to be here, I felt it in my bones, okay? I just-"

All of the emotions from that night. All of the anger, the fear, the adrenaline, all of it left you, left you in the sob that had formed in the base of your throat, leaving you feeling hollow and empty as the world passed around the two of you. You could barely register your team rushing into the building, the hose spraying into the house, JJ's team approaching the two of you, because it was just you and her. You and her, and that was all that mattered to you.

Her hands clung to yours, piling atop her cheek and embracing the warmth it gave her, leaning in to let her forehead touch yours, your salty tears falling into her cheeks but she didn't say a word about it.

"I can't lose you." You repeated it again and it sounded so small, so lost that JJ was locking her eyes with yours.

"You didn't." A pregnant pause, a lick of her lips, a small beginning to a smile that looked so wrong given the state of her surroundings, and a tiny breath let out. "Ten fingers, ten toes."

Her thumb was reaching for your cheek, swiping the pad of it across it, clearing away the remnants of the tear that was trailing down the side of your face and then following it with a kiss, a small peck at where the tear once stood.

"Ten fingers, ten toes." You exhaled.

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-Toby

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sugadaily · 3 years

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SUGA has this way of talking passionately with a deadpan look on his face. Full of passion about his life and music. How is your shoulder? SUGA: Good. I think it’ll get even better once I take off this brace. Apparently, it takes several months for a full recovery, but I'm trying to get better as fast as possible. How does it feel like to have resolved a problem that has distressed you for long? SUGA: First of all, I'm glad. The pain is one thing, but when my shoulders got worse, I couldn't even raise my arms. But when I heard that this might recur when getting the surgery at a young age, I waited for the right time and had decided to get it done early next year regardless of the COVID-19 situation. I had planned to get the surgery after the year-end stages, but I got it done this year (2020) because my doctors advised me to start preparing early for next year’s promotions and activities. How does it feel like watching the other members doing promotions? SUGA: I can't say it feels great. I could see the emptiness because we've been together as a group of seven for so long. Not necessarily because I'm not there but because something that should be there is missing? Is that what made you join the promotion as much as possible? You shot lots of video footage in advance and you even appeared in the Mnet “2020 MAMA” through VR. SUGA: Fake SUGA (Laughs). There’s this 3D studio where we shot it. I shot, scanned, and acted there, but couldn't see the actual result at the studio. I thought a sense of displacement was unavoidable, and that was exactly the case. (Laughs) I acted normal because it would have been aired anyway even if I hadn’t had the surgery, but it seems a lot because it’s aired after the surgery. You must feel restricted not being able to go on stage. SUGA: The thing is, it's only been a month after I got surgery, but my absence on stage is so apparent. But my doctors keep telling me that I shouldn't be impatient and in fact, many athletes get a resurgery when they return to the field without proper rehabilitation. So I'm working on trying to care less. For the first two weeks after surgery, I felt so frustrated that I tried out new things. I even watched movies I didn't watch.

What movies did you watch? SUGA: I watched ‘Samjin Company English Class’ as it happened to be on IPTV, and now I have ‘Tenet’ on my list. ‘Parasite’ was the last movie I saw at a cinema. As the social distancing measures became stricter, I haven’t been going outside, except going to the hospital. I even eat at home. I'm also watching a lot of TV nowadays. Watching music shows like ‘Sing Again’, ‘Folk Us’, and ‘Show Me The Money 9’ made me think of what I should do in the upcoming days. Could you elaborate on that? SUGA: A lot of candidates on ‘Sing Again’ are very talented but hadn't had the opportunity, and on ‘Folk Us’, I noticed that many took their own guitars on stage. I started playing the guitar lately and I'm having this urge to broaden my scope of music. And since my interest in the music industry in the U.S. grew, I'm getting prepared, studying English and all. What fueled your interest? SUGA: In some ways it’s the most commercially developed market. You could lose the industry attention in a flash if it's not feasible. So in this system, you would try everything and that would be an efficient way. I want to do music for a long time, and to this end, I always want to learn more about the global music industry because I want to do music that’s loved not only in Korea, but also in the U.S., Japan and Europe. Speaking of which, it seems BE was influenced from music of the past rather than today's trends. SUGA: I especially like impromptu music. I love the songs that were made in one take instead of being recorded several times. In this era of crossover genres, the desire to do better in music is growing inside me. As the genres become more blended, the melody you use must be more important. Does starting to play the guitar affect your composing in any way? SUGA: I always liked using guitar sounds. And I have always liked the Eagles. If you play the guitar, it’s way easier to write songs because you can carry it along wherever you go, pluck on the strings to create melody lines. Keyboards are difficult to carry around. (Laughs) I usually work on my laptop but I had this thought that I definitely needed an instrument. It accelerates my work and improves my understanding of chords. It makes me think you could intuitively make melodies. SUGA: It’s easier to write a song because you can intuitively make a progression and try many different things. During my work on ‘Eight’, IU had recorded and sent me a song from her phone. At the time I couldn’t play the guitar, so we tried to make sure we’re working on the same page when keeping track of each other's progress. That made me feel the need to learn an instrument.

This is actually before you started playing the guitar, but I found ‘Telepathy’ in BE very interesting. The varying melodic progressions between hooks for each member made me wonder if you wrote the melody intuitively for each part. SUGA: I tried a melody for the first time this year (2020), and as I started knowing the fun of music, it opened a lot of new doors for me. So it was kind of easy working on it. I just played a beat and wrote from the beginning until the end. Done. I wrote it in just 30 minutes. The song almost wrote itself. The trends of pop and hip-hop these days cross boundaries between vocals and rap. I like this trend. When I listen to your singing, it feels like you’re hitting the beats rather than singing along the notes. So I thought perhaps you're singing as if you're rapping. SUGA: When you're rapping, you just think of the rhythm, so it’s like simply putting on a melody to a rhythm. To define which comes first, I think melody adds to it while writing the rap. In ‘Life Goes On’, the lyrics ‘Thankfully between you and me, nothing’s changed’ are somewhere in between. It's not rap but it’d be mundane to say it's a mere melody. SUGA: There are obviously songs where the rap needs to be highlighted. For example, in ‘Dis-ease’ or ‘Ugh!’, you have to be good at rap. But in songs that should be easy to listen to, impressive raps are not always the way to go. Sometimes, you want smooth transitions without obstacles. In that sense, the rap flow of ‘Blue & Grey’ was impressive. Rather than a dramatic effect that emphasizes each part, you extended the rap just as much as the slowing beat. SUGA: To be honest, this beat is difficult to rap to. The beginning of the song only has a guitar line, which made it even more difficult. I participated when we wrote lyrics for ‘Blue & Grey’ and I've always wanted to work on a song like this. It was because verse 1 talks about the theme of the song.

It seems you achieved almost everything that you wanted in BE. SUGA: I think it took less than a week to make my part in the album. After having written one or two melodies for ‘Life Goes On’, I wrote a version complete with rap, and liked it that I even worked on a separate arrangement and lyrics. Rather than pondering over the ways that might work, I choose to simply play the music and write. Many creators are unsure even after they’ve produced good work. How do you get the conviction to release your work? SUGA: Many musicians are unsure whether they should release their music or not. It was the same for me, but the thing is, you’ll never release anything if you nitpick everything. For example, if we release 10 songs, we have a chance to unveil them in concerts or fan events. And sometimes, as we listen to the song, we think, ‘Why does this part that had bothered me no longer bother me?’ Some things might feel awkward at some point, but in time, it no longer feels awkward. Even I forget about it. So it's more efficient to fine tune, looking at the big picture, rather than thinking too much about the details. On top of that, during promotions, I don’t have the time to pick tracks that others have sent for 10 hours. It would be a success for all of us if each of us play and write a melody in their own time and collaborate with others on the details. So the way of songwriting has evolved in many aspects. What motivated such evolution? SUGA: I think it evolved naturally. I've changed in personality this year (2020), as well as in terms of my interpretation and attitude toward life to the extent that I almost thought I've been rehearsing. How would it feel like if there were no stage to go to or anyone looking out for me? This thought made me realize the value of these things. In ‘Dis-ease’, you sing ‘I don’t know if it’s the world that's sick’. Was it this lifestyle that changed your thoughts about your work? SUGA: Yes. When I was young, I had embraced the belief that ‘It must be my fault’, but as I got older, I realized that this is not always true. Most of what I had thought was my fault was in fact, not my fault. On the other hand, there are things that I did well and times I had been lucky. ‘I NEED U’ came out during a time when you were still thinking, “It must be me”. After the members put on a stage with ‘I NEED U’ in KBS' ‘Song Festival’, you wrote on Weverse, “It’s the same as five years ago.” How would you compare with back then? (This interview was held on December 19, 2020.) SUGA: We've matured quite a bit. And our stage performances have become more natural. I still like ‘I NEED U’. Just listening to the beat makes me sentimental, and above all, the song came out nicely. So as I was watching this and that when I stumbled across old videos. Watching them made me think that we haven’t changed much.

In what aspect haven't you changed much? SUGA: Before the social distancing measures got stricter, I talked with the photographer for BE, whom I had met four years ago. The photographer was surprised that we hadn’t changed much after all the success, even though he had assumed we’d be very different. I'm amazed personally. I’ve had the chance to meet the members before your debut, but from your way of talking with members or others, it seems you haven't changed. SUGA: I think it's because we don’t give it a big deal about success. For example, it's incredible to be ranked first on the Billboards, but there’s also this sense of, “Okay, and?” Even the Grammys? (Laughs) SUGA: When we got nominated for the Grammy Awards, we thought, ‘Is this real?’ (Laughs) Of course we were delighted, but it didn’t make us think, ‘We're singers nominated for the Grammy.’ If you're nominated, you're nominated, and if you get the award, you get the award. You don't get shaken by that. I know it's a great award and would be so grateful if we receive it, but we know that nothing is possible without the tremendous support of our fans. What’s more important is that the fans are more flattered than us when we receive a great award. So everyone's rejoicing, but it’s like, ‘Let's do what we have to do.’ We've been training ourselves to keep finding our places, so no one remains overexcited. In ‘Fly To My Room’, there are lyrics that say, ‘This room is too small to contain my dream’, and ‘Sometimes this room becomes an emotional trash can, but it embraces me.’ I had this feeling that the room had been such a place and that you were accepting that you have changed. Then the essence must have remained the same. SUGA: It wasn’t easy to accept that we eventually change. But I think it's a good thing that we changed. What we did back then was possible only at that time, and we could change because of the things we had accomplished. Then, what new things are you dreaming about? SUGA: I'm eager to continue doing music. Since all performances were canceled due to COVID-19, I had a chance to talk to so many musicians in Korea. I talked with legendary singers as well as people who are my contemporaries. Talking with them once again made me realize that I love music so much. Because music is my profession, I can’t imagine myself not doing it. I'm grateful that there are still unvisited areas in the world of music.

What kind of music do you think you’ll be engaged in in the future? SUGA: I was greatly motivated when I saw the concert of Na Hoon-a last Chuseok . I wondered how many musicians would actually be able perform and write music for so long like he has. At that moment, it occurred to be that ‘I want to be like him’. He has passion and desire, and most of all, he is a superstar. A few years ago, I took my parents to a Na Hoon-a concert, and when they watched the performance last Chuseok, they said it was way less impressive to see him perform through the TV. (Laughs) That must explain your interest in a broader spectrum of music from instruments to composing and musical genres. Because you want to be doing this for a long time. SUGA: My goal is to continue doing music in any shape or form. In that sense, I have this great respect toward Cho Yong-pil. He takes the best sound there is and reinterprets it into his own. I think that’s something I want to emulate and keep changing and evolving so that I can continue doing music for decades to come. The lyrics ‘Thankfully between you and me nothing’s changed’ must sound more meaningful for the fans because they will be listening to your music for a long time. SUGA: A month and a half in the current times must seem like a lifetime for the fans when we're far apart. I feel the same. But I think that's proof that we worked hard for the past seven years and that the fans have been passionately reaching out to us. I'm striving to get to them as fast as I can, and I'm eager to go on stage. I'm going through this because I want to be better on stage in a better condition, so don't be sad, and please hang in there a little longer.

#yoongi #suga #bangtan #bts #interview #210104

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partialresonance · 3 years

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Hi! You asked for Geraskier prompts. What about some fluff? Jaskier heard that Witchers can’t blush so he tries to make Geralt blush by complementing him ?

Yay, thank you for the prompt!! This was so much fun to write. :D

CW: mild innuendo, reference to beheading?? Otherwise it’s pretty tame. ~1.6k of fluff coming right up!

Jaskier is eighteen, and Geralt is quite the most interesting man he’s ever met.

Of course, he’s handsome too, which doesn’t hurt. But for the moment Jaskier is mostly concerned with the fact that he’s a witcher. Jaskier has heard countless rumors and tales about witchers but he never imagined he would have the chance to actually meet one. He can’t pass up the chance to confirm the truth of what he’s heard, straight from the source.

“Geralt, is it true that witchers can see through walls?”

Even though Jaskier has to jog to keep up with Roach and is only treated to a view of the man’s broad backside, he can hear the eye-roll in Geralt’s dry response:

“No.”

“Well that’s a shame. I imagine brothels would be quite interesting places if you could.” Jaskier’s lute bangs against the back of his thighs, and he hoists the strap higher on his shoulder. “Speaking of which, is it true that witchers have—ah, how to put this delicately—inhuman stamina?”

“I can outrun you.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Geralt shrugs, and Jaskier puts his hands on his hips, his mouth twitching into a pout.

“You’re no fun at all, Witcher.”

What he won’t ask is if it’s true that witchers don’t have feelings. Jaskier had banished the idea as rubbish from the first, when he’d gone up to Geralt in that tavern in Posada and found him brooding. One cannot brood without feeling.

“Is it true that witchers can smell fear?”

At that, there is a telling pause.

“Yes.”

“Huh. That’s interesting. Can’t imagine how that’s useful though. I’ve always found it quite easy to tell when someone’s afraid, they go all bug-eyed and their hands start to shake and they stutter a lot.”

“You’d be surprised.” Roach flicks her tail, narrowly missing Jaskier’s face. He dodges to the side, stumbling a bit on the dirt path. “Some people are good at hiding it.”

Jaskier shrugs, uninterested.

“Hmm, what else. What else,” he taps his chin, trying to dredge up the other rumors he’s heard.

“If you can’t think of anything else we could walk in silence,” Geralt says hopefully. Jaskier laughs, shaking his head. The very idea.

“Oh! I’ve got one.” He picks up his pace, jogging forward until he’s far enough ahead of Roach that he can turn and walk backwards, keeping ahead long enough to see Geralt’s expression. “Is it true that witchers can’t blush?”

“Where did you hear that one?” Geralt looks unimpressed. He flicks the reins and Roach springs into a trot; Jaskier has to leap to the side to avoid the devilish mare. Thankfully Geralt doesn’t seem intent on leaving him behind; after a few paces Roach slows to a walk again, though Jaskier is huffing by the time he finally catches up.

“Oh, you know,” Jaskier wheezes, clutching a stitch in his side. He waves a hand vaguely. “Around.”

He’d heard it in reference to the only place on a witcher’s body blood could rush to, but, well. Geralt doesn’t need to know that.

“Yes. It’s true.”

“Is it really?” Jaskier squints up at Geralt. He wishes he was a witcher who could sniff out lies. “You know it’s illegal to lie to a bard, don’t you?”

Geralt doesn’t answer, and now that Jaskier has run out of questions his mind seizes on a new game.

Make Geralt blush.

“Hey, Geralt!” Jaskier swings his lute around and plucks a few notes. “You ever heard the one about the fishmonger’s daughter?” And without further ado, he launches into the most downright filthy version he knows. It’s barely even innuendo, containing outright descriptions of exactly what the fishmonger’s daughter likes to do with her catch, even including a few dramatic moans and sighs on Jaskier’s part because he is nothing if not an excellent performer. He keeps a close eye on Geralt’s expression, but to his dismay all he sees is the gradual tightening of his jaw and flattening of his eyebrows. By the end of the song he looks downright murderous.

“I’m guessing you didn’t like that one. Heh.” Jaskier plucks a discordant note, underlining his failure to please the witcher with his song, as well as rouse even the faintest of pink tones to his pale skin. “Well, not everyone has a sense of humor. That’s alright.”

Damn it. What could he do to make a witcher blush?

After another mile or so Jaskier is forced to admit that the sex angle simply doesn’t affect the witcher. He’d tried everything--describing some of his own conquests, real and imagined, and he’d even faked a limp and sighed wistfully about his night with the innkeeper’s son! None of it has any effect on the man. And, with a cruel spike of embarrassment that brings heat to his own cheeks, Jaskier abruptly realizes it’s because the century-old witcher likely has seen and done things he can scarce imagine.

It’s all old hat to him, then.

“Have it your way then, you big old brute.” Jaskier consoles himself by playing his favorite songs at the loudest possible volume, his voice echoing off the canyons. He thinks Geralt has mostly tuned him out, until abruptly he wheels Roach around and makes a sharp gesture at Jaskier. His yellow cat-eyes scan the surrounding hills.

“Shut up, bard.”

Jaskier scoffs, and strums a few loud chords.

“Well you could at least ask nicely if you’re--”

An arrow stabs into the ground, an inch from Jaskier’s foot. Jaskier jumps into the air with a yelp.

Bandits seem to pour down from the hills, and Geralt and Roach charge in to deal with them. Jaskier, weaponless and frightened, darts off of the path in the opposite direction, down a small gully to hide behind a bush.

Well, he hasn’t lived this long by sticking around for the danger! Someone has to live to tell the tale, after all.

It’s over faster than Jaskier would have imagined. He catches glimpses of Geralt moving smoothly through the fight, a whirlwind of steel and white hair. The big witcher actually looks graceful, spinning on one heel and swinging his arm in a broad arc to lop off the last bandit’s head. Jaskier swallows, feeling odd and sort of warm all over.

When he’s certain the bandits are dead he doesn’t hesitate to scramble up the hill to where Geralt is standing amidst the carnage, sheathing his sword.

“Do people do that a lot?” Jaskier tells himself his voice isn’t that shaky as he brushes off the knees of his trousers and hoists his lute onto his back. “Just attack you out of nowhere?”

“Hmm.” Geralt stands from where he’d been crouched over one of the corpses. He slips their purse into Roach’s saddlebags, then mounts her in a smooth motion.

Jaskier wrinkles his nose at the corpse. He doesn’t usually see death up close like this--his experience is more of the ‘passing by the suspicious lump in the alleyway without looking too closely’ variety. He’s frightened, but with Geralt at his side starts to feel a little bit brave. The bandit certainly isn’t scary like this, with his stupid head lying across the path. He sticks his tongue out at the corpse and then jogs after Geralt and Roach.

“Well, they should know better, shouldn’t they? I don’t think you even broke a sweat.”

“Hmm.”

“No, I mean it. That was genuinely impressive.”

“Shut up, bard, or you’ll draw more of them.” Geralt turns his head away, but not before Jaskier catches something interesting in his expression. He jogs forward, until he’s striding beside Roach and level with Geralt’s knee. If he looks out of the corner of his eye he can just barely make out Geralt’s face. A sly smile curls his lips.

“Do people ever compliment you? Or are they too busy shitting themselves because you’re a big, scary witcher?”

Geralt stares straight ahead.

“That’s a shame, really. Compliments do wonders for the self-esteem. I can’t go long without one before I simply wither away like an autumn leaf. And there’s so much to compliment you on.”

“Fuck off.”

“Geralt, I’m being serious.” Alright, so maybe he was also teasing a bit, but Jaskier’s voice took on a strident, genuine note as he turned his head to gaze up at the witcher. “What you did back there might seem like nothing to you, but I was terrified. If they wanted to kill me they could have done so easily, except you were there so now they’re all lying in pieces while we make our merry way on. Take that, bandit, you don’t need your legs!” Jaskier laughs and makes a slicing motion as if severing an imaginary bandit’s torso from his lower appendages.

“It’s nice, not to have to be afraid of whatever random asshole comes my way. I think I’ll stick with you after all. It doesn’t hurt that you’re easy on the eyes as well.” Jaskier winks. Geralt keeps darting his eyes between Jaskier and the path ahead. He looks distinctly uncomfortable, but Jaskier doesn’t think it’s in a bad way at all. “Big witcher man with your nice hair and all that muscle beneath your armor. You looked like you were dancing, you know.”

“Jaskier…” It’s a low growl, a warning, and it sends a shiver straight down Jaskier’s spine. He bites his lower lip to keep from smiling too broadly, and that’s when he sees it:

The distinct, pale pink undertone blooming to life beneath Geralt’s glowing (beautiful) yellow eyes.

Oh. Jaskier is in trouble.

He clears his throat, taking a few steps to the side and letting Roach get a little bit ahead of him. He strums his lute, a spring in his step as he follows his witcher, imagining feeling the heat of Geralt’s blush beneath his fingertips.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #dandelion #the witcher #fluff #fanfiction #geraskier prompts #my writing

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