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sif-the-tsunami · 3 years ago

Note

Ok prompt! Sy is teaching you how to cook and maybe things get frisky ? 😁

Oooo I like this. Its not 100% on the nose but this is where the muse took me.

Did you want a novel? Because, I hope you like novels.

Warnings: chili with beans, sweet cornbread, swearing, smut

"Listen hear, you chicken fried fuck. If you don't like my cooking, you are welcome to eat something else at the damn pot luck!" I snap at a grumpy retired soldier who was talking trash about my chili recipe. Like always. Whenever we have a party, he has to say something about how I'm dressed, what I brought, or the beer I was drinking.

"All I'm saying here, California, is that where I'm from we don't put beans in our chili. And don't get me started on this abomination you call cornbread. Why is it sweet, why are there vegetables in my bread?" He says in his drawl.

"Because honey and roasted jalapenos taste good together!"

"I guess. You don't need to fuss so much Princess, I'll gladly show you how to make real Texan food. Make some wife material out of you." He smirked. I think he knew he was getting under my skin.

"Come on, Sy, give her a break. Take a bite of her cornbread with the chili, they are delicious together." One of our mutual friends told him when he could see that I was not having any more of his attitude.

I walked away from the conversation, feeling incredibly salty. The man was Syverson, we had been in the same group of friends for the past couple years and honestly he was usually at least cordial with me, but the sheer audacity of his tone today. The rest of the party was really fun, at least. Occasionally, I would catch eyes the color of the ocean after a storm staring me down. He kept looking like he wanted to say something to me but I would find reasons to leave the room. Fortunately there was always a way to get out and around.

Towards the end of the evening, I go outside to enjoy the cooling air and watch the stars, listen to a couple of the guys from inside sit on the tailgate of a truck and talk about football or something. The breeze would kick up occasionally and I could smell an orange tree blooming in the distance.

"Hey, oh shit, I didn't mean to startle you." I jumped damn near out of my skin when the grump showed up out of nowhere. "I actually really wanted to say that I'm sorry, I can be a real asshole sometimes. You are usually more aware of it than others. I'm used to giving people a hard time. Your food was delicious. I just don't know how to talk to you sometimes."

I looked at the large man skeptically. I'm not used to people going from snarky to nice to me. "Thank you for apologizing. Glad you liked it, Chicken Fried. You can just talk to me like anyone else, I don't mind some teasing, but you just know how to push my buttons."

Sy looked at his feet for a moment. "I will be nicer to you, I promise."

"I'm sure." I had heard that before.

"I still think mines better," back to sounding arrogant already, "I am willing to bet that it would blow your mind."

"Do you really want to bet?"

"Yeah... sure. I'll bet you. If my chili it better than yours.... you have to go on a date with me."

"Is that how you get most of your dates these days? Tinder just isn't cutting it anymore?" I tease. He is actually kind of good looking. Sort of. If you are into that hand crafted by the gods kind of look. I'm not saying I am, but I could get the appeal.

"You'd be surprised. Most of the women I meet want to figure out what's wrong with me. Almost 40, never married, I have a job I like. They keep waiting for my skeletons to come out of the closet. Like shit, girl, I just don't like olives or sweet relish. I think I'm pretty cool otherwise." He said talking with his hands out stretched. I think he might have been being earnest with me, but his tone is almost always sarcastic.

"You were in the military, right?"

"Yeah."

"That's what's wrong with you." The big man started laughing harder than I thought he would.

"Well, California. You up for it?"

"I don't know Chicken Fried, I don't like dating, I would really just like something casual, low maintenance. What happens when I win?"

"When?" He chuckles. "If you are looking for something casual and low maintenance, baby, there is a reason when I was still in the Army they called me Captain Cunnilingus."

"It sounds like either way you win." I smirk, "I would need a real incentive to try to beat you."

"How about bragging rights?"

"If I win... you shave your beard. Then I get to use your face as a chair." He looked shocked.

"Fine, when I win, you have to wear a dress on our date, and heels. Maybe even some of that shit you all put on your lips with the glitter and fruity flavors."

"Ok, now that's unreasonable. I don't even own heels."

"I'll buy you some." Well color me impressed. We decide on the terms of the bet. We would invite a couple of friends over to his place next Sunday and they would pick a winner with a blind taste test. We would also have one canned chili and one restaurant chili to make it a little more interesting.

Sunday came, and we all gathered in his house. This was the best batch of chili I have ever made. Fresh peppers, bacon, beer and some good quality beef all swam together in a symphony of flavors. When I walked into his house, the smell was... pungent. I could smell cooking vinegar. It wasn't bad but there was something just a little off putting.

"Glad you showed up, Princess." He looked me up and down. to surprise him just a little, I did show up in a dress. I figured a special occasion needed a special outfit.

I looked over at the big man as he took my slow cooker from my hands and plugged it in for me. To be fair to both of us, we had enough time to set up sides and toppings. I even baked more cornbread. Sy made his own savory cornbread that he pulled out of the oven in a cast iron skillet.

"It was my mama's." He told me when I asked about it.

"You bake also?"

"Sometimes, if the mood hits me. I like making peach cobbler too. If you are lucky, I'll make you some. Maybe after our date."

"So sure of yourself, Chicken Fried. I hope you got some good shaving cream and a new razor, you'll need it." In his kitchen, I lifted the hem of my sundress clear up to my naked hip showing him that I was ready to win this bet of ours. His pupils blew out with lust as he stepped up to me.

"Princess, you are a hell of a tease. I have wanted you so badly ever since the first time we met." He breathed, lusty and hot. He pinned me to the counter, radiating his desire. He bit his lip, looking me up and down, he looked like he wanted to kiss me or maybe consume me whole. Suddenly he pulls away, leaving me breathless. "We will have company soon. I need to walk this off, but I really do want to continue this conversation when we don't have to risk being interrupted."

Before anyone could walk in on us, Syverson rushed up to me and kissed me more passionately. My knees buckle for a second and its like I've been set on fire.

When our friends came into his house, he set up bowls, spoons, Fritos and cheese. He set up blind tastings for the guests, only he and I knew what everyone was eating.

The canned chili was a flop. The restaurant chili was a better batch but it wasn't as good. When our friends tasted my chili, they all keep saying how wonderful it was.

Then we tried Sy's. Everyone was quiet for a moment and then the group started to try to figure out what it was about the chili that we didn't like. It was too sweet as far as I was concerned and there was a weird aftertaste. It was an overwhelming agreement that Sy's chili was terrible. After we cleaned up his kitchen, Sy was pouting about having lost.

"So, when would you like for me to shave my beard?"

"Maybe later tonight. I think we have to finish that conversation we started earlier."

"Oh yeah, California?" He said, standing close to me. He grabbed me by my hips and lifted me to the counter top. I lace my fingers through his beard hair and pull him closer so I can finally kiss him again. He broke away from the kiss and then started nibbling on my neck. His hand found the seem of my dress and he slid his hand up my thigh. When my skirt was pushed up to my hips exposing my sex to him, he leaned me back. I watched him look at my core and lick his lips like a man starved.

"Wait a second. Before you start, what was going on with your chili? Did you throw the bet?"

"No, not at all." He looked at me confused. "I don't know what happened, I've made this a bunch of times and its always been good. This was terrible."

"Did you do anything different?"

"Well. I was out of tomato paste, so I used ketchup. A buddy of mine suggested it."

"Oh my god, Sy. No wonder! Thank god you are pretty, my guy." I tease.

"Your guy? I like the way that sounds. Now lean back, Princess. I'm going to try to convince you to let me not shave."

#henry cavill fanfic #my apologies to henry cavill #henry cavill #henry cavill smut #asks answered #captain syverson #captain sy x reader

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years ago

Text

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 12- Whatever It Takes

Summary: This is it, you’re finally going to help save the world and if all goes to plan, bring Bucky back in the process.

Warning: bit o angst

Masterlist

It’s been a solid month since Tony and Rocket have been crafting tirelessly on the construction of the giant time portal machine type deal, or whatever he’s calling it nowadays. And to your great surprise, as well as everyone else’s, the first test run with Clint was an undeniable success.

Compared to the first one with Scott, things have come a long way.

Clint was able to wander around in that alternate universe for a couple minutes without returning with so much as a single scratch. Thus boosting the teams confidence and excitement for the inevitable time heist that’s in the works. So as of now, everyone’s currently brainstorming as to how this will go about for the most successful mission possible.

“Okay, so the how works.” Begins Steve as everyone sits around the large meeting room, glass screens projecting info about the stones displayed in the background, “Now, we gotta figure out the when and where. Almost everyone in this room has had an encounter with at least one of the six Infinity Stones...”

Tony cuts in with his spout of knowledge, “Or substitute the word “encounter” for “damn near been killed” by one of the six Infinity Stones.” Damn straight, your ass got launched into a Wakandian tree last you saw those goddamn stones.

“Well I haven’t..” Interjects Scott with a puzzled look, confusion clear in his voice, “..but I don’t even know what the hell you’re all talking about.” Oh right, he missed out on all the fun while he was fucking around in the quantum realm.

Sitting on the table you shrug, “Be glad you’ve never seen them, those fucking space rocks will kick your ass if used less then kindly, but it doesn’t matter now. From my understanding we only have enough Pym Particles for one round-trip each.” You explain as they all listen intently, “And clearly these fucking stones have been in a lot of different places throughout history.”

Tony nods, “Our history. So, not a lot of convenient spots to just drop in, yeah?”

“Which means we have to pick out targets.” Adds Clint as Tony points in his direction, “Correct.”

Steve soon gains everyone’s attention once again, “So, let’s start with the Aether. Thor, what do you know?” Asks the blonde, all eyes turn towards the back corner of the room to find Thor slouched in an armchair, beer can in hand while the other one keeps partially hidden in his pajama pants.

A dark pair of sunglasses conceals whether he’s currently awake or not. “Is he asleep?” Wonders Natasha as Rodney humorously adds, “No, no. I’m pretty sure he’s dead.”

A few soft chuckles are heard as you listen intently to the god of thunder, “He’s alive, and most definitely sleeping off that last beer.” You muse as they all give a collective curious brow while you simply shrug, “I can hear his heartbeat, and it’s low enough to tell me he’s not dead.....Well, at least not yet.” You mutter, eyeing up the sleeping giant as an idea sparks into your head.

A second later you pick up a discarded empty beer can sitting right next to you on the table before throwing it at the snoozing god, the thin metal smacks against his forehead with that familiar pop of the can sound, falling to the ground with a crackly ting as Thor jolts awake. And back to the land of the living.

“Nordic Santa you’re up.” His head snaps in your direction as he gives a semi-awkward half grin.

“Ah right, right, thank you angry one.” Points Thor with a genuine smile now as he quickly gets up before walking over to the screen depicting the red swirly like stone substance. Although soon he delves into the finding of the red mass, what it did to his former flame, that he took her to Asgard seeking help for her sickness, how he showed Jane to his mother, and then he immediately got sad and lost all motivation and train of thought on anything related to that stone.

Ah yes, personal trauma. It’ll do that to you.

Later that day when everyone was feasting on some Chinese takeout, Rocket began an in-depth explanation into where the Power Stone was found; by some guy named Quill who stole it from a planet called Morag. After some time later, Nebula revealed that the Soul Stone was retrieved from Vormir, the place where Thanos murdered her sister Gamora.

It’s been an interesting day to day the least.

Now here you are, slouched comfortably in a lounge chair you stole from the other room, flipping around a pocketknife as Natasha and Tony lay on the nearby table with Bruce sprawled out on the floor in all his Banner-Hulkness. Books scattered everywhere as the two Avengers keep comfortable on some decorative couch pillows as you listen to them brainstorm about the stones whereabouts.

Flipping the knife skillfully between your fingers an idea suddenly pops into your head, “Hey what about that time stone guy you were talking about earlier.”

Banner hums, “Doctor Strange.”

“Yeah, what kind of doctor was he?” Wonders Natasha as you mentally question the same proposition when Tony gives his quick witted answer. “Ear-nose-throat meets rabbit-from-hat.”

“Nice place in the Village, though.” Adds Bruce, Tony agreeing in an instant. “Yeah, on Sullivan Street?”

“Mmm....Bleecker Street.” Mutters Banner as Natasha interrupts, face shifting to realization. “Wait, he lived in New York?”

“No, he lived in Toronto.” Sasses Tony as Banner reveals the truth. “Uh, yeah, on Bleecker and Sullivan.”

Tony coming back with more playful sarcasm, “Have you been listening to anything?”

Suddenly it feels like a lights been switched on in your brain, “Guys.” You quickly implore as they keep silent to listen, “If you pick the right year, wouldn’t there be three stones in New York?” Their faces all collectively shift to astonished realization when Bruce quickly sits up to look at you. “Shut the front door.”

“Well at least someone is paying attention.” Quips Tony as Natasha smacks him with a book.

——

“All right.” Begins Steve as the whole team gathers in the meeting room, “We have a plan. Six stones, three teams, one shot.”

You nod, smirking with excitement, “Let’s get these fuckers and maybe end up saving the world while we’re at it.” He sends you a proud grin and within the next half an hour are the eleven of you suited up and standing in a large circle atop the glass of the giant time portal.

“Five years ago, we lost. All of us....we lost friends. We lost family. We lost a part of ourselves. Today, we have a chance to take it all back. You know your teams. You know your missions. Get the stones. Get them back. One round-trip each. No mistakes....no do-overs.”

“Most of us are going somewhere we know. That doesn’t mean we should know what to expect. Be careful. Look out for each other. This is the fight of our lives...and we’re gonna win.” Affirms Steve with a mutual nod, “Whatever it takes.” He gives one last look around the circle of familiar faces before nodding, “Good luck.”

Nudging the muscular blonde, he shares a small smile with you as you quickly return it, “You practice that last night?” Steve chuckles at your amusing comment while Rocket and Scott gush over his admittedly incredible motivational speech skills.

“Just thought the team could use the confidence boost.” Admits Steve as Bruce flicks the motherboards switches to get the time portal up and running. The machine whirs to life while everyone begins putting on their helmets.

Your slightly apprehensive gaze trails to your left where Natasha is standing, she gives a playful smirk as you force a true smile, “See you in a minute.” Chides the red head as you break out into a smirk.

“будь осторожен там Romanoff.” You add, shifting into your natural dialect that she’s all to familiar with, your actual words translating to “be careful out there” as you give her one last flash of a grin.

A hot second later, your body shrinks to the size of an atom as you feel like you’re entire body is free falling out of an airplane in some strange rainbow colored portal that shifts to shimmering diamonds and then finally a blue coral type texture as you find your teams designed route down some swirling tube of blues and bright white lights until at last you land in...

“Holy shit look at this place.” You mutter in absolute awe at the large golden pillars of Asgard, there was no fucking way you were missing out on traveling to this realm. And anyways, Steve kinda made it your task to keep the potbellied god of thunder in check as yourself and Rocket attempt to locate the Reality Stone with Lebowski as your generous tour guide.

Thor smiles fondly, proudly beaming at you with a rare form of happiness as he points towards the large cavernous halls of the royal palace, “Oh this? Yeah, it’s neat isn’t it, I grew up here....played games down this very hallway actually. Me and some friends used to spar one another as children down here with wooden sticks that looked like swor...”

“Thor.” Interrupts Rocket with an annoyed huff, “Remember why we’re actually here.”

You nod in agreement, quickly remembering the current mission, “He’s right. No time to dwell on fond memories, we need to find that stone before anyone sees us. And going by the logic of literally every time traveling movie I’ve ever seen, which admittedly isn’t a lot, but it’s enough that I know no one can see us. Especially you Thor, that would be a big problem for this timeline, so lead the way.”

“Yes, right on that, good point Y/N....okay um...” He looks around for a moment before pointing in the direction of choice, which is down a long spacious hallway, “This way, no ones gonna see us if we go by the dungeons.” Explains Thor as he quickly leads the way down the obnoxiously long hallway that thankfully is decently vacant.

After about five minutes of trekking around the castles interior, Thor guides you and Rocket down a long stairwell of dark grey stone until you reach the bottom floor. There are large basins of fire lighting the way down the lengthy hallway pass, he jogs past a couple golden tinged cells holding a few odd looking prisoners on your way out.

No doubt these fuckers look like they deserve it.

You pay them no mind as Thor hustles silently across the flooring to a door on the far end, though as you’re shuffling past another cell, your eyes land on the green and black clad slender body of a dark haired man laying atop his bed. Face focused towards the white ceiling as he tosses a cylindrical piece of metal in a repeated rhythm only done by that of an incredibly bored individual.

That must be his brother Loki, you draw into conclusion while racing out of sight of the trickster god while Rocket makes haste by your side. Kind of handsome, you think as an unknowing smile finds itself onto your face. God Y/N you truly are a desperate woman. No, just no.

Eventually, Thor leads your little team of three upstairs to some large balcony type area with a grand view of Asgard, the three of you keeping hidden behind one of the multitude of intricately decorated pillars as he eyes up a woman halfway out of a giant door while she accepts some clothing from a maid.

His bearded face lights up in joy as he points a finger towards the brunette woman, “Oh, there’s Jane.” Whispers Thor as she closes the door, the Asgardian maiden leaving and walking elsewhere down another yawning chamber.

“All right.” Starts Rocket as he stands on some ancient rock covered in unknown hieroglyphics before jumping down to face the two of you once the coast is clear, “Here’s the deal tubby. You’re gonna charm her, Y/N’s gonna keep watch, and I’m gonna poke her with this thing..” He shows some strange metal device with three silver prongs sticking out of it, “...and extract the Reality Stone, and get gone lickety-split.”

The optimism off of this creature never fails to astound you.

“Yeah, what he said.” You add with a shrug in Rocket’s direction as Thor sniffs before raising up a finger. “I’ll be right back, okay? The wine cellar is just down here...” Interjects Thor as he slowly begins walking away, clearly ready to abandon his part in the mission, “My father used to have this huge barrel of Aakonian ale. I’ll see if the scullery has a couple of to-go cups.”

“Hey. Hey!” You whisper yell, causing him to stop for the moment, “Aren’t you drunk enough already? Fuck that fancy wine we got better things to do.” You urgently vouch just as some doors loudly open nearby, immediately the three of you hide behind the stone of hieroglyphics and watch as a long haired woman leads the way, a multitude of servants in her wake as she says something about giving books to Loki from the library.

“Who’s the fancy broad?” Wonders Rocket as you raise an intrigued brow at Thor, his eyes never once leave the woman’s as he takes a steady breath, “That’s my mother.” Reveals the disheartened god, a sudden sadness lacing his very words that does not go unnoticed by you, “She dies today.”

Your breath catches in your throat at this sudden tragic news of great loss, you remember when you lost your own mother by the filthy hands of Hydra and how they helped you quickly forget about her. You didn’t have anytime to grieve or even question her sudden disappearance for that matter, “Oh, shit...that’s today.”

You share a nervous look with Rocket as Thor begins taking some deep almost panicked breaths, his emotions all rising together like a swelling storm as his face shifts to an afflicted pain, “I can’t do this. I can’t do this....” Rambles Thor with a shake of his blonde mane, eyes displaying panic, “..I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have come. It’s a bad idea!” Whisper yells Thor as he anxiously shifts from one foot to the other.

“Come here.” Beacons Rocket from his perch on the rock.

“No, no, no...” Deviates Thor as he waves his hands nervously in the air like he’s trying to flick some mud off of them, “I think I’m having a panic attack.” Worries the flushed faced god.

“Come here. Right here.” Says Rocket as he points to the rock, an increase in irritation shifting the tone of his voice while Thor breaths heavily, clearly not on board with whatever Rocket’s going to tell him.

“No, no, no, guys I can’t...I can’t do this, I’m sorry but I’m not ready, I can’t...” Thwack, Thor yelps in surprise at your intentionally weak assault on his large bicep, “Y/N what was that for?” He half-offendedly demands, brows furrowed in confusion at the flash of anger racing across your sour glare.

“You think you’re the only one who lost people?” You snap as he lowers his head like a beaten dog, “What the fuck do you think we’re doing here? I lost the only person I ever loved, Rocket lost his whole family, gone, just like that.” You affirm with a snap of your fingers.

His face grows conflicted as you suddenly lose your heated aurora, face falling into a frown as you place a comforting hand upon his shoulder, “Thor, I know it hurts that you lost your mom...believe me I get it, but she’s gone. And there are plenty of people who are only kinda gone, and you can help them.”

Thor nods apprehensively as you share a small smile with him, “So if it’s not too much to ask, can you get your shit together for the next however long this is going to take so we can save the world?”

Rocket chuckles before gaining the both of yours attentions. “Agreed. Now all you gotta do is make schmoopy talk to Pretty Pants and when she’s not looking, suck out the Infinity Stone and help us get our family back. Aight?”

Thor nods once more, face twisting into a saddened pain a he looks down to the floor, “Okay.” Mumbles the god of thunder weakly, face reddening as his eyes get glossy. You let him take a breath as he avoids your gaze at all costs, eyes beginning to water while he tries to play it off.

Giving his shoulder a friendly squeeze, your brows furrow in puzzlement, “Are you crying?”

He shakes his head, some tears slipping despite his verbal protest, “No.” Mutters Thor weakly as his tearful gaze finally picks up to meet you, “Yes..” Squeaks out the teary eyed god while his eyes flicker from the far wall to your face once more, “...Y/N, I feel like I’m losing it. I don’t, I don’t know what I’m doing...I just feel so...shit I don’t know anymore.” Admits the fearful Asgardian as he avoids your softening yet slightly annoyed gaze.

oh, Thor you sad motherfucker. I’ve been there.

Rolling your eyes you gently shake his shoulder for emphasis, “Listen to me you big lion, get your shit together! You can do this. You’re the god of thunder for fucks sake, you can do this Thor.” His face turns into a surprisingly more confident expression as he huffs with a self-assured nod. “I can do this.”

“Yeah...I can do this.” Repeats the Asgardian with a sniffle.

Smirking, you give his arm a friendly smack, “Good. Now let’s do this and get the fuck out of here.” You add before swiftly turning on your heel as you and Rocket lead the way to the door, reaching it, the talking raccoon tugs on your leg before you get a chance to open it. “What is it now?”

“Y/N, we lost him.”

“What?!” Realizing Thor has indeed slipped away and out of sight, you clench your fists in irritation, “Goddammit.” You seethe before looking down at Rocket, “Whatever, we’ll find marshmallow fluff later, let’s just get this stupid rock.”

——

Racing down the palaces golden hallways, your boots thud against the stony ground as Rocket runs on all fours right behind you, “I almost hope they catch you!” You shout in between the yelling of the royal guards as they hastily pursue the two of you down the hallway.

“We got the stone didn’t we!” Snaps Rocket as you pick up your pace.

“We gotta make it back first you dumbfuck!”

He grumbles something unintelligible before you follow the beer tinged scent of Thor into another room, he’s speaking with his mother when they quickly turn around, “Oh, uh, hello...uh, queen something.” You mutter before Rocket practically smacks into the back of your legs. “I got the thing. Come on. We gotta move.”

Thor nods, speaking some last final heartfelt goodbyes to his mother before abruptly stopping the countdown to three just so he can summon his hammer. After a couple lengthy seconds, Mjolnir falls right into his strong grasp causing Thor to laugh and smile in excitement. “I’m still worthy! I’m still worthy.”

Rocket shares a look with you, “Oh, boy.” Mumbles the raccoon as you simply roll your eyes at the bearded Asgardian prince. A moment later the three of you are sucked into the time portal once again before landing on the glass of the time portal machine.

“Did we get them all?” You hear Steve ask in wonder as you hold your stomach from the jostling ride back.

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” You mutter as Rodney smiles in excitement at everyone around him and the stones in their proximity. “Are you telling me this actually worked?”

Taking a deep breath to steady your turning stomach, all eyes turn to Clint as he suddenly falls to his knees, face a mask of saddened grief that sparks panic in your heart. “Clint, where’s Nat?” Questions Bruce as your face falls.

Not her, not Natasha too.

Standing solemnly on the Facility’s large dock with the teams main Avengers in various places close by, you lean against one of the thin steel beams, a deep frown on your lips while your fingers anxiously play with Bucky’s dog tags around your neck.

“Do we know if she had family?” Questions Tony to no on in particular.

Steve swallows thickly, a couple free tear stains falling down the side of his cheeks, “Yeah. Us.” Mutters the blonde gloomily as you bite your bottom lip to keep from crying again.

“What?” Wonders Thor almost in disbelief as Tony gives him a quizzical look, “Yeah, no, you guys are acting like she’s dead. Why are we acting like she’s dead? We have the stones, right? As long as we have the stones Cap, we can bring her back. Isn’t that right?” Adds Thor, glancing between all of you before facing Tony again, “So, stop this shit. We’re the Avengers. Get it together...”

“Can’t get her back.” Interrupts Clint dismally, eyes still set on the open water beyond the compound.

Thor’s brows furrow in befuddlement, “Wh-what...”

“It can’t be undone. It can’t.” Insists Clint, voice slightly wavering in despair; Thor then starts chuckling at the absurdity of the whole shitty situation before rambling about space magic and that there must be another way. Clint on the other hand quickly gets heated about this and promptly snaps at Thor about some red floaty guy he met who revealed once the Soul Stone is taken, the one sacrificed can never come back. Ever.

Soon things calmed down again, though still a rather gloomy atmosphere still lingers like a persistent hazy fog even after they all left, leaving no one but yourself and Steve on the dock. He keeps a steady gaze on the rippling water as he lets his sadness take its course, this is indeed a heavy blow to bear.

Letting out a shaky breath, you move from the leaning against the beam to instead find a spot next to him on the wooden bench. Dog tags still clutched in your fist as you steal a glance at the tearful man. You’ve admittedly never seen him so upset, well, you both may have shared a good cry when Bucky was whipped from existence five years ago. That was the first time you ever truly bonded with anyone from the team, the first time Steve and Natasha showed you their vulnerability.

And for that, you’ve formed a stronger bond with them that you’d never thought possible. They welcomed you into the compound like an old friend, always treated you with respect and gave you room when you needed it. And even when you didn’t want to be around anyone, they still forced you into playing cards with them anyways, among other dumb games. Which annoyingly so, is what your sad little self needed back then.

But without Natasha, without her beaming heart and fierce attitude to keep fighting through the unknown and murky waters, you’re not even sure if this would all still be conceivable. Or if you’d even still be here with all of them for that matter, you might have gone on an angry warpath just as Clint did when everyone he ever loved was snatched from him forever.

So why, after all this time and pain, is she the one who had to go? It’s not fare. And your heart feels broken all over again; sniffling, you swallow thickly before turning your head a little in Steve’s direction, “I didn’t know her for as long as you guys did.....but she was, really the best of us..” You laugh dismally.

Voice shaky as you hold Bucky’s tags close to your chest, “..If not better. She was the first Avenger I ever met you know, the only piece of my past that didn’t try to murder me on sight, actually. I liked her. She was who I needed to get me through my grief, among other things huh...and uh...I will miss her.....a lot.”

Nothing is heard except for the low rustling of the nearby trees as a soft wind blows into your faces, Steve clasps his hands together, turning to you, “Funnily enough, it took me some time to completely trust her, but now....there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.” Mutters Steve with the flash of a genuine smile as he thinks fondly on Natasha, who you wish more then anything could still be here to celebrate the hard work of finding those goddamn stones.

It’s not fucking fare.

Swallowing thickly, you nod in agreement as more hot tears trail down your somber face, “The world will owe her their lives and never even know it.....but I will, we all will. Her memory will live on if I can help it, we owe her that much.”

Steve slowly nods, thumbs fiddling together anxiously as he mutters a raspy, “Yeah.”

You rest a comforting hand atop his broad shoulder as he shares a mutually dismal look with you, “We’ve already lost so much already and she fought for this like no once else did, we will avenge her Steve. I don’t doubt she knows it.”

Tagged: @diegos-butt @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @bizarrebibitch @atomicpersonacheesecake @jmstz @staygoldsquatchling02 @marvelbros-oneshots @shawnartmendes @mischiefmanaged71 @jckie94 @iamasimpingh0e @mjaudrey @thescarlettvvitch

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x you #marvel imagine #marvel x y/n #marvel x you #marvel x reader #the winter soldier #fanfic #fanfiction #the avengers imagine

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willow-salix · 4 years ago

Text

It’s here, Virgil’s FabFiveFeb

A nice little bit of Virg fluff for @gumnut-logic

"I think he'd like someone that has an interest in creative pursuits," Gordon mused, poking one of the boxes to tick it.

"And someone that likes to go for walks, you know what he's like for wanting to wander and take in the scenery, maybe even snap some pictures to paint later," Scott added, touching another box to tick it.

"More of a home body than an adventurer, he gets enough of that with work," Gordon added it to the list. "And they definitely have to believe that family is important, he can't have someone that won't understand his commitments."

"OK, next, all about him," Scott scrolled down to the next section. "His interests…"

"Classical music, obviously."

"Enjoys visiting art galleries and concerts."

"And eating out."

"Don't we all?"

Gordon nodded at that, there was nothing they liked more than picking up some tasty food.

"Ideal date? What's that movie he likes? The one with the lake house?"

"Oh, I know the one you mean, with the…the…" Scott's brain failed to make the connection, romantic comedies were not his thing, that was what Virgil watched with Selene, not him.

"Doesn't matter," Gordon assured him, brushing it aside. "He liked the date so I'm putting it down. A relaxed stroll along a lake side at sunset," he murmured to himself as he quickly typed it out.

"That's the one," Scott nodded. "He-"

"Allie! Have you seen Scott?" The sound of Virgil's voice floating up from the kitchen made them both jump guilty.

"I think he's in the lounge," Alan shouted back.

"Shit!"

"He's coming!"

"Quick, submit it, submit it!" Gordon smacked at the submit button, growling in frustration when a flashing red 'incomplete field' warning mocked them.

The sound of steel capped boots thumping up stairs spurred them on.

"Just tick anything!" Scott yelped, fingers flying as he randomly poked boxes in between Gordon whacking the submit button like it had personally offended him.

"Yes!" Gordon sighed as the 'congratulations' sign appeared in green. "Done!"

Scott just had time to hit the x and pull up a report before Virgil strolled his way in.

"What are you two doing?" he asked suspiciously, stopping dead in the doorway when he was greeted by the sight of the two brothers least likely to be discussing a report seeming to be doing just that.

"Nothing!" Gordon yelped just as Scott yelled "Reports" which was definitely upping the suspicion levels. He didn't believe them.

"I don't believe you," Virgil told them firmly, attempting to give them the kind of 'don't lie to me' eyebrow raise that Selene or John managed to pull off but knew he had failed. Damn the fact that he was the nice one and they both knew that any and all threats he might issue would go unfulfilled.

"You doubt me?" Scott gasped in mock outrage. "Me? Your big brother? The one that always has your back?"

"And me, your wingman? The one that always fixes your hairdryer fuse?"

"One time Gordon! That was one time! And it wasn't my hairdryer!"

"I don't know, you bought it, you keep it in your bathroom and you warned us all that we couldn't borrow it on pain of death, so that evidence all points to it being your hairdryer…"

"I won't stay here to be insulted," Virgil sniffed indignantly, "I'm gonna go find Kayo and see if she'll help me with the inlet manifold, at least she can take instructions and won't lie to me."

They watched him stomp away in a huff, breathing a sigh of relief when the sound of his boots faded into nothing.

"Damn, that was close," Scott gulped, clicking back onto the dating website to check it had worked. His eyes widened when he looked at the screen.

"What? What's wrong?"

"He's got three inboxes already."

"Seriously? Already, it's been what, five minutes?"

"Yep."

"We’re gonna be spoilt for choice."

"I guess that just means we have more chance of picking him a good one, he needs to get out more."

"He'll thank us for it in the end."

***

"I don't understand, why do I have to dress up?" Virgil groaned. "I'm tired, I've had a long day, why do we need to go to the mainland just to pick up pizza?"

Gordon glanced at Scott for help. None was forthcoming. He nudged him for emphasis.

"Fine," Scott sighed, admitting defeat. Honesty was always the best policy anyway. "We arranged a blind date for you."

"You did what?" Virgil exploded. "Why the hell would you do that?"

"We thought you needed to get out more," Gordon shrugged. "We were trying to help."

"I don't need your help, I didn't ask for it."

"Not like you were going to meet anyone on your own, was it?" Gordon continued to needle.

"John did! So did Scott. I am perfectly capable of getting my own dates."

"John is an enigma that none of us understand and Cat's my ex, I was recycling, that doesn't count."

"Do not let her hear you say that," Gordon laughed.

"My point still stands," Scott insisted waving away the worry about his girlfriend, "we don't have a normal job or the chance to socialise much, and unless fate decides to be nice and throw someone at you like it did for John or you have an ex hidden away somewhere, you can't use us as an example."

"You don't want to let her down, do you?" Gordon tossed in, knowing that his softie brother would feel guilty as hell if he upset anyone. "How would you feel if you got dumped before you'd even met the person?"

Virgil wanted to argue the point some more, but honesty and his vow never to lie to himself stopped him. They did have a point, a small one, but still pointy and therefore he was unable to ignore their logic. He decided to give in, although he refused to do so gracefully or with any forgiveness of their plotting. Plus, they were right, he wouldn't want to be responsible for anyone feeling like they weren't good enough in any way, shape or form.

"Looks like I don't have much of a choice…" he started only to be interrupted by the victorious cheers of his brothers. "Do you have a picture of her?"

"Nope," Scott grinned. "We signed you up with that new site where pictures aren't allowed, you pick based on shared interests and compatibility, not looks."

"That's…actually a nice idea," Virgil acknowledged reluctantly. He wasn't one to judge people on looks, he cared more about personality and morals.

"See, we knew you'd approve," Gordon grinned, slapping him on the back.

"I didn't say I approved of this-"

"Come on, hurry up, you don't want to be late for your date!"

***

Virgil waited nervously on the picnic bench, clutching the single sunflower Scott had thrust at him like it was a weapon, ready to fend off anything if his blind date turned out to be some kind of psycho.

They couldn't be too careful, they were far too used to people trying to find out details about them or to trick them in some way. No one was ever as they seemed.

Scott had assured him that they hadn't used his real name and that no one would associate it with him but he couldn't help the little nagging doubts that gnawed away at the back of his mind.

Plus he still hadn't forgiven them for pulling this stunt on him. Did they really think he was that bad at dating that he needed such help? He wasn't bad at dating, he got plenty of offers for a hook up, they all did. Well, not John but he was hardly ever out on rescues and Selene was common knowledge now but, to the rest of the world, him and his "single" brothers were all fair game.

Butt gropes and comments about their hard muscles were a common occurrence, so much so that he often felt like a piece of meat being squished and tested before purchase. Another reason why he rarely managed to meet anyone that he could actually see himself wanting to date.

Maybe their idea, while badly executed and heavy in trickery and taken liberties, hadn't come from a bad place. He'd worried the whole way to the meeting spot that they might have picked the worst candidate they could, but he firmly forced the thought out of his head. His brothers might like to indulge in mutual pranking and to push the limits sometimes but they would never do anything to hurt or embarrass someone, especially not a stranger. The thought had calmed him down enough that he hadn't had to make use of Two's on board bathroom facilities for an emergency freshen up because he'd stress sweated through the nice shirt and jacket they had forced him into.

He'd managed to relax a little but, now that he was sitting here alone, waiting and looking out for someone he had no clue about, he was starting to worry again.

Seeing an abandoned pen on the picnic table he snatched a few napkins from the dispenser and let his eyes roam the scenery.

It really was a gorgeous place, something often referred to as a little slice of heaven in the city. The urban park, man made in the center of the mass of concrete and steel, sported a carefully constructed lake that was home to a teeming ecosystem of endangered species that exhaustive conservation efforts had made possible.

The sun was just beginning to lower towards the horizon, painting the sky and the surface of the lake with the most beautiful colours. Virgil's fingers itched to paint them but he settled for snapping a couple of pictures on his phone.

Trees of all types surrounded the lake, creating an attractive backdrop to the whole scene and before he even realised he was doing it he was deep in concentration as he sketched the lake area on the napkin.

The process was calming, helping to soothe his nerves and slow his thumping heart, allowing him to stop and breathe for a second, helping him to resist the urge to cut and run.

"Are you Virgil Grant? You have a sunflower."

The voice behind him made him jump and drop his pen.

"Yes, yes I am," he admitted as he turned around to face his date.

***

"So, how did it go?" Scott asked when they arrived to pick Virgil up, less than half an hour after he'd text for a ride. "Did you have a good time?"

"I had a great time," Virgil smiled.

"You were gone a long time," Gordon grinned, nudging his older brother playfully with his elbow. "Did you go back to her place or something?"

"Yeah, we did."

"You did? You dog you!" Gordon leered with an exaggerated wink. Virgil just smiled, taking the teasing with his usual good grace.

"You gonna see her again?" Scott asked, pleased that their plan seemed to have gone so well.

Virgil nodded. "I told her I'd drop in as soon as I'm free."

"Come on, give us all the juicy details, tell us all about, Emma, wasn't it?" Gordon pushed, desperate for gossip.

"Nothing much to tell," Virgil shrugged. "She's sweet, we had a nice time hanging out, she gave me her number."

"That's it? That's all you can tell us?" Gordon groaned, disappointment evident in his voice.

"No, that's all I'm going to tell you," Virgil corrected. "You've interfered in my private life enough already, thank you."

"Oh, come on, Virg," Scott pleaded. But the big guy wouldn't budge, staying smugly silent the entire journey home.

Gordon and Scott had given up by the time they eased the little jet back into the hangar, going off to do their own thing, hopefully to remove his dating profile, leaving Virgil alone.

Selene and John were cuddled up together on one of the couches, watching something on the holoscreen when he made his way into the lounge.

He hadn't meant to disturb them, especially when they were actually getting some time alone for once, and was about to make his excuses but Selene had other ideas. She patted the couch beside her, shifting over to make room for him.

He accepted the offer, sitting down and getting comfortable. He didn't know what they were watching, possibly some kind of documentary.

"Cookie?" he offered, pulling a baggie of what looked to be pretty decent cookies out of his jacket pocket.

Selene glanced up from the screen, looking first at the bag of cookies and then at Virgil, her eyes widening in surprise.

"You're all dressed up."

This got John's attention as he reached for a cookie. "Have you been somewhere?"

Selene selected a cookie and took a big bite. "Oh, damn, these are so good, where did you get them?"

"My date made them for me," Virgil grinned, consuming almost half a cookie in one bite.

"Wait, wait, back up, date?" Selene actually paused the documentary, something about William Shakespeare by the looks of it.

"You had a date? That wasn't on the calendar?" John frowned. "Were they cleared by security?"

"The romance is strong in this family," Selene drawled, rolling her eyes.

"Scott and Gordon decided that signing me up to dating sites is their new hobby," Virgil sighed.

"They arrange the date? What were they like? Did you have a good time? Witchy needs details," Selene gently shoved John's face away from her as he chewed loudly in her ear and leant closer to Virgil.

"We actually had a nice time. Emma, my date, is a local, lived there all her life. She's been a bit lonely so her friend set her up on the site. We wandered around a lake for a bit and then we went back to her place."

"Awww, so romantic," Selene sighed dreamily before mock glaring at her husband. "Why don't you take me on dates any more?"

"Because we only got back off our honeymoon a few weeks ago and we live on an island?"

"No excuse."

"Dinner on the mainland next week?"

"Thought you'd never ask," she stole a quick kiss as he rolled his eyes in defeat. "Got any pictures?"

"Of the restaurant? Are you needing to inspect my reservation making skills now?"

"I was talking to Virgil."

"Oh, then carry on."

"Virg, pictures?"

"I did take one, yes," he pulled out his phone, scrolled through for a couple of seconds then turned the phone to show them the screen. "I took a selfie of us at the lake."

Selene and John blinked, unsure if they were seeing the right picture.

"Erm… not to be a judgey judgerson or anything but…" Selene trailed off.

"But she has to be older than Grandma," John finished for her, blunt and to the point as always.

They both looked at the picture again, showing a goofily grinning Virgil next to a sweet older lady, her blue rinsed hair set in a helmet of curls, her half moon glasses perched on her nose.

"Again, not with the judging, you do you, but does she have to watch her heart? She needs to be careful if she's going out picking up handsome young men."

"Stop, please stop," Virgil groaned. "She didn't know how old I was. Gordon and Scott set it up and apparently they somehow, and I choose to believe it was unintentional, managed to upload my profile to the over 60s side."

"And you didn't correct her?" John had to ask. He knew his brother was the nice one of the family but that was a little ridiculous.

"Of course I did, but we were there and she hadn't been out in a few weeks. Her grandson moved away for work and her husband died a few years ago so I bought her dinner and we had a nice walk around the park. She wasn't actually looking for a romantic date, she just wanted a companion, someone to chat to, go for a walk with and maybe see an exhibition or two. Her friend at the widows club set it up for her."

"So you were both set up by others?"

"Yep. She's a really nice lady."

"And that walk around the park turned into cookies at her place?" John's fingers snuck into the bag again to take another.

"And banana bread. She mentioned that she was going to hire a handyman to fix her sink because her daughter was too busy and she didn't have any help now."

"Ahhh," Selene could see exactly where this was going.

"And so I offered to unblock her sink for her."

"Of course you did," John sighed, hiding his smile against Selene's shoulder.

"And while I was there I put up some new shelves for her and took her trash cans out to the kerb and retuned her TV. She made me cookies to say thank you."

"She sounds lovely," Selene cooed, already in love with the thought of her. She could take or leave it when it came to little kids, usually leave if she was being honest, but she was a complete suckee when it came to the elderly.

"She is, smart too. I complimented some of the paintings she had on her walls and she told me she'd painted them, her and her husband met at art school and used to go on vacation to different countries to visit galleries and take classes. I showed her a few pictures of some of my pieces and it turned out she'd seen one of mine in a gallery in New York, you know that one of the Sphinx I did from that picture I took after that rescue?"

"Do I take it that our darling brothers don't know any of this?"

"Nope," Virgil grinned. "I'm letting them stay curious, they asked me all sorts of questions on the way back but I stayed quiet. I'll tell them eventually, once all the cookies are gone." He picked another out of the rapidly depleting stash.

"I have never heard a more Virgil story in my entire life," Selene laughed, shaking her head. "So when are you seeing her again?"

"Gonna try and visit next week to mow her lawn," Virgil admitted, looking somewhat sheepish.

"Hey, no," Selene grabbed his hand, squeezing it tight. "No looking embarrassed. You're amazing, it's a totally you thing to go on a date, not get what you were expecting and still come away with an old lady best friend and having had a great time. That's one of the many reasons I love you, because you're just so you."

"She's right," John added, patting his brother's shoulder. "One thing I've learnt the last few years is that you shouldn't make excuses for who you are or try to change. Don't belittle the fact that you have probably made her happier than she has been in months just by giving her some time and treating her with respect. Don't undervalue that."

"Yeah," Virgil acknowledged. "I know I did the right thing, it doesn't hurt to help someone and I had fun too."

"And that's all that matters," Selene said, patting his hand one last time before she let it go.

"Yep," he smiled, settling back against the cushions, munching on his cookie, his cheeks bulging like a hamster's, muffling his words. "That and the fact that her granddaughter is a nurse and she's going to introduce us next month."

#Virgil Tracy #fabfivefeb #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirdsarego #thunderbirds #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction

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emilycollins00 · 4 years ago

Note

Hey, if you want to (you don‘t have to through) could you maybe write a Muku x Reader, in which Muku‘s crush writes him a anonymous love letter but he recognizes his crush’s handwriting? But if you don’t to write it for Muku, than it can be somebody else! Like idk... Juza or Sakuya (that would have been cute too). Everybody’s just great🥺❤️ Have a great day!~ (*´꒳`*)🌸

Sorry for the delay, love. You are the sweetest thing! I don’t really mind if reader is the same age, also crushes are the cutest thing so... Muku it is! 💕

Hope you enjoy!

Title: Love letter

Pairing: Muku Sakisaka x reader

“I don’t know Yuki-kun, I’m sure Sakyo-san also wants the play to be a success. Why would he try to make it difficult?”

With school hours finally ended for the day, both middle schoolers talked as they prepared to go back to the dorm.

Yuki clicked his tongue “If he wanted the performance to be good he should at least be more lenient with the budget” he mused opening his locker, already making a mental list of the materials he would have to buy to make up for the cut he had been informed in the morning “That money grabbing yakuza… he could at least think how much work is to piece everything together”

“I-I’m sure you’ll do an amazing job! We’ll all make sure to help if it gets too much!”

“Of course I was already counting on it. I haven’t been training you all for nothing”

Muku laughed nervously at his retort.

“Muku-kun!”

His heart made a leap at the unexpected sound of your voice. Turning around, he found you running in his direction from the crowded hall.

“Y/N-san?”

Once you managed to catch up you held a hand up, asking silently for a few seconds to regain breath. Finally you lifted your head, cheeks slightly flushed from the sprint “Sorry, I wanted to give back the volume you let me before you left!”

“Ah, you shouldn’t have had to bother coming all the way!” Muku stuttered, taking the manga from your hands and holding it against his chest. He glanced at you hopeful “Um... What did you think about it?”

You clapped your hands, beaming “Oh, I couldn’t put it down! The main character was so sweet it made me want to cheer for them so much!”

Muku felt his previous tension being released. He had been the one who had recommended it after all. He smiled happily “I thought so too! T-the way the festival had…”

As always happened when he talked to you lately, Muku hoped he wasn’t blushing too much or sounded too weird. It had been a few months since you both started exchanging romance novels due to mutual interest and the more you got to know each other, the more Muku noticed he had developed quite the crush on you.

“I see you guys are leaving already. Practice?”

Muku played with the string of his schoolbag, self-consciously “W-well, spring troupe is next so we usually make street acts for the time being until Tsuzuru-san writes ours- ah, he’s the person I told you that writes such wonderful stories!”

“Oh! I hope summer comes soon then” you chuckled, making Muku’s stomach stir “I have to go now too, see you both tomorrow!” .

Once you were out of sight, Yuki glanced at the former athlete sighing with a hand placed in his chest and rolled his eyes “Why don’t you just invite them somewhere? I doubt they’d say no”

“Uh?”

“Y/N” his pointed the way you had left with his chin “You are painfully obvious, you know”

Muku waved his arms neglectingly, flushing “I-I can’t! If only I had the charismatic aura of Itaru-san or the elegance of Citron-sama b-but I don’t have any of those qualities and...!

“I keep telling you those two are the worst examples you should be trying to learn from”

He kept shaking his head stubbornly. You had become someone he truly admired for always doing their best. Your approach and attitude were so nice, so warm... The thought of dating was too much! “A-anyway, shouldn’t we hurry to get to the dorm?”

Yuki squinted his eyes, but opted to shrug it off “Sure, I need to change before going to that thrift shop by Veludo Station. Last time the worker there showed me some…”

Muku relaxed inwardly, seeing Yuki was already on work mode. As he opened the locker to change his shoes though, something white fell from inside. He crouched down to the floor to retrieve it “A letter?”

He turned it, but saw no sign anywhere, which made him tilt his head confused. Why was a letter inside…?

Something clicked in his head as he stood up, blue eyes staring at the white envelope.

It couldn’t be real. He must be daydreaming.

“Maybe I could even- Muku?”

Oh god, what if he had been transported to one of his mangas? What if he now had to overcome the plot of the story to be able to get back and…?

“Hey! Earth to Muku, geez!”

Snapping out of it, he finally focused on the annoyed green-haired in front of him “Yuki-kun…? Have you also been transported into the manga world?”

“What are you talking about” the young designer sighed, crossing his arms over his chest when he noticed the envelope “Was that inside your locker?”

“You can see it too?!”

“Of course I can idiot. You didn’t have that before”

Muku nodded to himself blinking at the letter. So he wasn’t imagining it…

“Well, aren’t you going to open it?” Yuki leaned his back on the lockers, bending curiously.

“Yuki-kun”

“Mhm”

“I-I can’t”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Mucchan received a WHAT?!”

“Could you say it any louder, you idiotic dog? It’s just a letter, who cares”

“Mukkun, I’m shook!” as Taichi kept crying about wanting to find love too, Kazunari jumped in completely elated “Isn’t this like the highlight of your school life mangas in real life? You def have to open it!”

Taichi’s reactions and Kazunari’s comments didn’t reach Muku, still zoning in and out of the conversation. After a long banter in school, he hadn’t had the guts to open the letter, so Yuki decided for him to take it home and give him time to process the situation.

Which is the reason he was now sitting on the couch in the middle of the lounge, surrounded.

It was true he had often dreamed of love letters. Who wouldn’t? They were so romantic! To receive a handwritten confession maybe even in poetry professing an undying love, rushing off to a midnight rendezvous with one’s true love… the mere thought made Muku swoon.

But one thing was his imagination, and another one real life, as much as he sometimes mixed both.

To think something like that actually happened to him didn’t feel real.

“I…I already told Yuki-kun this must be a mistake” he murmured fidgeting, not able to take his eyes off the yet-to-be-open envelope on the table “Who would want to write to someone who is a half-pint, small, dried-up stale beansprout like me?”

“You sure s’not a letter for a challenge, right” Juza grumbled from the other couch, throwing daggers to the letter.

“J-juza-san?!”

“Why am I not surprised that’s your first thought, Standard Gangster”

Muku lifted his head gasping with eyes wide open, scared “I-I hadn’t even think about that! What if I did something and now they are looking for revenge and…!”

“S’okay, Muku” Juza stopped him, cracking his knuckles “I’ll take care of ‘em if that’s the case”

“Whoa, whoa, hold on, dude!” Kazunari laughed nervously, placing a hand his shoulder to calm him down “Before we decide it’s something like that, how about opening it?”

“Mr. Extrovert is right for once” Yuki rested his chin on the back on his hand “You are taking too long”

As everyone watched expectantly, Muku glanced at the letter once more, swallowing with difficulty. Even just looking at it made his heartbeat go wild. He shook his head, took a deep breath, and carefully tore the edges apart.

The first thought that came to his mind was the fact that the colour of the paper was the same as his hair.

Then, the fact that his whole face was probably heating up after he read his name.

“Mucchan?”

“Just tell me who I have to beat up”

The summer troupe member lifted his head flustered, forgetting where he was “S-sorry I- it’s okay, Ju-chan! um, it’s not that type of letter!”

As he kept reading the content, Muku felt his heart ringing in his ears as well as the heat reaching and warming his cheeks. The message of the letter was definitely a confession worthy of a manga and the way he was being described… nothing could compare to what he was feeling at that moment, eyes fixed on the letter, practically glowing.

By the second read though, he noticed something weird. A somewhat familiar feeling, as if he had read this before.

He read it again. What was it?

“Let me see, let me see!” Kazunari soon moved to his side, reading with him and whistling “Mukkun whoever this is you have to find them, this is totes cute!”

He didn’t answer, still in deep thought. This handwriting… where had he…?

You.

A flashback of him looking at your notes in class and thinking how beautiful your handwriting looked crossed his mind. Muku covered his mouth from the sudden revelation.

“Muku!?”

“You okay, Mukkun?”

If he was blushing before, his face must now be a downright crimson mess.

Could it be a joke? Or was he daydreaming again? B-but that WAS your handwriting. He had caught himself so many times staring that it.

He checked once more afraid. No, it definitely was yours.

“B-but Y/N-san, they…”

“Y/N?” the surprise on Yuki’s face when he heard your name was palpable. He grabbed the letter, smiling at the end “Well, aren’t you lucky Wonder Boy”

“Who’s Y/N?”

“Ah, Muku’s crush”

“WAIT- MUKKUN’S!?”

“MUCCHAN’S?!”

“Muku, you…”

“W-wait, what if they did this as a way to test my acting? O-or to try to recreate a scene for a new manga?” his mind kept rejecting the idea “They said they wanted to see our performance, what if tomorrow they keep asking me what happened today and I can’t act naturally and then they think I was spying on them only to be told that-!

“Muku, please” Yuki rolled his eyes “As if someone like them would do this as a prank”

The young actor looked around everyone in the room insecure and then again at your letter, taking it with both hands carefully “It’s just… I’m just me” he finally whispered.

Kazunari chuckled softly, ruffling his hair.

“Well, that’s plenty for us, you know it! And judging by the letter it’s the same for them”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Next day Muku paced around the entrance of the school, waiting for you. No matter how many mangas he had read, nothing had given him the answer for how to act.

Was this how the heroines felt? His lower body was barely being able to sustain him.

“Muku-kun, you called for me?”

Okay, stay calm Muku. Y-you got this! He forced himself not to let his nerves show as you walked up “Y-yeah! Um, do you have a moment to talk?”

“Sure?” you tilted your head curiously.

He had to avert his gaze “t-The thing is, um; yesterday this was on my locker…” Muku took out the letter from his pocket, praying for a reaction.

You stared at it dumbfounded, and for the first time, Muku saw your cheeks growing slightly red. He kept talking “I… I somehow recognized your handwriting! S-so I wanted to say that I too-!”

He couldn’t finish as he watched you covering your face, which caused him to frown confused “Y-Y/N-san...?”

“Please hide me” Muku could tell your ears were bright red at this point “Sorry, this is not… it wasn’t…”

You groaned to yourself. You worked so hard to not let it show, appearing even before he saw the letter and your handwriting was what gave it away in the end…? Talk about embarrassment.

“Ugh, I’m so lame”

“It wasn’t lame! Not at all!” Muku’s heart squeezed, talking louder than he had imagined, but he wanted to make his point clear this time. Lame was the last thing that could have crossed his mind when he read it “You are so cool and the letter was beautiful!”

“I-It was…?”

He nodded although you couldn’t see him “Y/N-san” you felt his hands holding yours, taking them away from your face. Once you couldn’t hide anymore you looked up, a blushing Muku welcoming you with a warm smile.

“If you are okay with me, would... would you like to meet up sometime?”

He really looked like a prince.

_______________________________________________________________

Wishing you all a wonderful day! 💕

#a3 #a3! act! addict! actors!#act addict actors #A3! Actor Training Game #a3! muku #muku sakisaka #muku x reader #a3 muku

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captainjimothycarter · 4 years ago

Note

Prompt 12 for Winterhawk please? :)

We dated in high school but then you moved away but now you’re back in town. Winterhawk.

My baaaabies.

Hey you. It’s Bucky. – JB

I know, weirdly texting you outta the blue after not talking to you for a few years but I’m back in town and I ran into Natasha and she mentioned you. – JB

I was wondering if you wanted to catch up? Go out for a drink or two. Feel free to say no. – JB

Just let me know, don’t leave me hanging. – JB

“What the hell,” Clint breathed, shoving his phone into Natasha’s face with a frustrated look on his. She just raised an eyebrow at him and shrugged her shoulders. Universal language in Natasha-speak for not my problem. “You told him about me?! You know we broke up years ago.”

“He asked about you,” she sighed, leaning back into her chair so it balanced on two legs. “He was curious, fluttering around the subject of you. And, Barton, I know you still pine after him and don’t sit here and lie to me and tell me otherwise.”

Clint grunted as he sat back on his own chair, looking down at the text messages again. His thumbs trembled, hovering over the letters, unsure of what to say. Natasha was right. They’d broken up on mutual terms, so Bucky could go to college in California and be with his family and Clint could stay in Brooklyn and do God knows what.

The thing was, he did still pine after this man. Like really wanted him. He’d tried dating a few guys and gals here and there but nothing felt the same. He wasn’t comparing them to James at all, it just never reached that level of happiness and trust he had with this man.

“Besides, Clint, he still wants you too. I didn’t tell him anything, I left that up to you.”

Somehow, Clint both loved and hated Natasha for that fact. He just looked up at her with soft, blue eyes and sighed, typing back a quick message.

Sounds great. Meet you at Luke’s at 10? - CB

An almost instant reply and one that shouldn’t’ had made his heart leap, but it did. Great. Can’t wait to see you again and tell you about my metal arm. – JB

Turns out, they’d both changed over the five years since high school graduation. Bucky had graduated within two years of college and spent the last three in the military. The military wasn’t his top choice and he despised it to a point but it was a constant check he could send back to his baby sister after their parents had died.

Clint sympathized with the man, he really did. He knew how much the man begrudgingly had to swallow his pride in other to join the military to help raise his baby sister. That wasn’t fair on him at all, but that was James alright. One to step up to the plate and do what needs to be done, no matter the cost. Long as the decision was the right one. He was a firm believer in doing the wrong thing for the right reason.

Three years in the military, four tours, and all Sargeant James Barnes got to come home with was a missing metal arm, severe PTSD, a distrust of closed-off spaces and loud noises, and no help from the government what so ever. That’s why he came back to Brooklyn, still just as loud as California but Becca was out here in college, so he could stay with her. And Natasha had taken up the man’s case to get the back pay he was owed for disability.

“Top it off, Nat got in me in contact with the Starks? They’re the leading minds behinds robotic prosthetics and I’m sorta their test dummy.” Bucky picked up his left hand and let the soft lights of the dingy bar shine on it, wiggling his fingers in Clint’s direction. “Works like a charm, if you ask me. Sorta gets stuck sometimes and if it gets wet, I gotta spend a while drying the gears, but for first-timers it’s amazing. Surgery wasn’t that bad either, connecting it to my nerves and all. I can even feel with it, but it's not the same as with my flesh hand, just a metal thing to tell me something is hot or cold.”

Clint was in awe of it, really. He watched the gears move to accommodate the fingers moving, plates shifting one over the other to help the digits move. He reached out to touch it, finding it smooth, all along except for his palm where it was ridged. “Beautiful,” he breathed, his cheeks flushing as he became fully aware he was still holding onto his hand and jerked his hand back. “S-sorry, it looks…good.”

“Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?” Bucky had let his hair grow out, says it made him feel different from before where he had to keep it properly trimmed and off his collar. It felt like breaking the rules that still lingered on his mind, the beard too. Natasha must’ve helped him braid his hair just because there’s no way this man was that elegant with his hair. “So, what about you? What’s happened to you? You’ve…changed. In a good way! Not bad!”

Clint laughed, just because he’d never seen Bucky so flustered before. The man’s cheeks grew a darker red at the laugh, turning to drain the beer before he could say anything else. “Come on, Buck, I know I’m different. I just…uh didn’t know how to say that to you? Or anyone, hell even myself.”

Bucky just cocked his brow and let his eyes roam over the tall, muscular figure that was now Clint Barton. He admired the way the man start to flush the brightest shade of pink. “Well, I’m glad that you did, buddy. You look amazing.”

“Yeah, well when your hate for yourself starts to manifest into an obsession in the gym and bow and arrows…” Clint shrugged, clearing his throat. “The full names Clint Francis Barton now. I got it officially changed last summer, been on hormones for over two years now.”

“Well, I gotta say, you look so much happier now.” His metal arm threw over Clint’s shoulder and squeezed him tightly to his chest. “Like you’ve really blossomed. You’re not hiding yourself or snapping at people. You’ve really come a long way, Clint. I think the name suits you better but not Francis, we’re finding you something better.”

“You are not. Barney helped me pick out that name!” Clint pouted, but still not moving against Bucky’s chest. He was still a good few inches taller than him and yet laying on his chest felt like home. Thankfully Bucky was never one to throw a fit when it came to dating people taller than him.

“Nahhh, who cares what Barney picked out? It doesn’t fit you.” Bucky barely got to move out of the way before Barney, their bartender for the evening threw a soiled rag at his face.

“I do!” The Barton brothers both said at once, making the veteran pause before laughing.

“Alright, alright. The name stays. Geez. Francis.”

This is the first time Clint’s laughed like this in weeks, months even. He’s happier around Bucky, surer, more confident now that he knew Bucky wasn’t going to be against him coming out. Not that the thought he would, but that fear was there, always on the surface. It’s one thing that made him stop talking to Bucky, that what if…

Because Bucky’s opinion, Clint quickly found out as the night waned on and they got deeper into their drinks, the man’s opinion still meant everything to him.

“Wanna go back to my place?” Clint mused, face flushed from the alcohol, and jerking his chin towards the door. “Just moved in. We could break the bed in.”

Bucky snorted behind his hand, rolling his eyes. “You’re so terrible at flirting.”

“Wait is that a yes?” Clint had never looked more adorable to this man then confused, the way his nose scrunched up.

Instead of answering, Bucky leaned closer and just brushed his lips over Clint’s, the blonde smiling against his lips.

That was a yes.

#Winterhawk #ClintBucky #Dated in High school #Deaf Clint #Trans Clint #Veteran Bucky #Its cute #I love a trans Clint #winterhawk prompt #@hawkeyeandthewintersoldier

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sondepoch · 5 years ago

Text

Day 7

10 Days (Jumin Han x Reader)

You didn't expect to find yourself locked in an engagement to Chairman Han, but with your own mother forcing you into it, you have no way of denying her. But as time continues and things change, you begin to develop affections for your fiance's son: Jumin Han. But the sad truth is that there's nothing either of you can do to stop the marriage, and you only have these 10 days before your future becomes reality. 10 days with Jumin Han.

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9 | Day 10 | ✔

MASTERLIST

You don't talk about it.

"Let me forget," You'd whispered into Jumin's ear yesterday as he hovered over you. His body was naked and his eyes were filled with desire, but he still had the restraint enough to ask if you were 'sure about this.' "Make it so that I only think of you."

At the time, you'd said the words in reference to the activities the two of you were about to partake in, but Jumin seems to have taken them to heart. For the rest of the day—even when you both were out of bed and awkwardly trying to cook yourselves a romantic dinner—Jumin never left your side.

Indeed, for that brief time, all that mattered was that he was with you. Smiling at you. Loving you.

But that can't last.

You sigh, staring out the windowed wall of Jumin's penthouse. On your second day here, you'd spent a morning similar to this one: just staring out, watching taxis go by, the early-morning people move about, lights from buildings far off flicker on and off. It feels somewhat surreal to have so much going on with zero repercussions to you.

It makes you feel detached.

"My love?" Jumin asks, his voice still carrying traces of his morning drowsiness. Your first days here, the man had been nothing short of pristine in the mornings, maintaining his businessman facade of perfection. At last, though, he's allowed you to see the real him: bedhead, pajamas, and all.

"I didn't expect you to get up," You call over your shoulder, throwing him a bashful smile. "You sleep like a brick, you know."

You almost laugh at the startled expression on Jumin's face at your words, but settle for only breaking a smile. Your hands hold a rather large cup of coffee, dangerously close to overspilling, and you don't want to cause a mess.

Jumin finally chuckles, walking toward you slowly before wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. You can feel his sleepiness in the way his hands slowly rub your sides, quietly seeking the warmth from you that he had when he was still under the covers. "In my defense, four in the morning is an hour that even I am unaccustomed to rising at." Jumin hesitates, before continuing. "What has you up this early?"

"I wanted to watch the sunrise," You confess. It's true. Ever since you saw this glorious wall: composed entirely of glass panels polished so cleanly that one almost doesn't notice them, you've been wanting to watch the sun greet you along with the city as it rises from its own slumber.

"You're two hours early, my love."

"Well, I also wanted to see the city." You sip your coffee, leaning into Jumin's touch when he begins pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to your neck.

"Fond of landscapes?" Jumin asks, trailing his lips up to your ear.

"I suppose? I've only ever had the opportunity to look at cityscapes in all my travels, really, but I have always wanted to see a natural 'scape. A nice, countryside hill, maybe. Or a field of flowers—like the ones in the movies."

"Oh?" Jumin asks, pausing his kisses. He steals a taste of the coffee in your cup, licking his lips before continuing. "How is it that such an accomplished businesswoman such as yourself has never seen something simple as a field of flowers? Don't you fly over them all the time during your travels?"

You shake your head, wondering what business trips Jumin is going on that brings his planes close enough to see such sights. "My flights take me from city to city, and I was born and raised here. I've never actually seen anything other than a cityscape."

"A pity," Jumin mumbles, finally ceasing his ministrations and opting to rest his head on top of yours. "Do you enjoy this sight, at the very least? I purchased this penthouse apartment specifically for the view."

You nod. "I've actually been in this apartment once before, when someone else owned this penthouse. A classmate, actually. It was stunning even then; I've always wanted to see how it's changed." A light laugh escapes your lips, and you sway in Jumin's embrace. "This city has aged well."

You can feel the smile on Jumin's lips.

"Let's paint it."

You raise your eyebrows, wondering if Jumin is joking. But, if anything, his expression looks even sterner than before—the previous sleepiness now gone from his eyes. He glances down at you, a faint smile on his lips.

"What?" He asks at your shocked expression. "We have two whole hours before the sun rises, and you said you wanted to watch the city. What better way to ensure that the eye observes everything than to test its accuracy by hand? I'll even help you. We can paint it together."

Before you can open your mouth to respond, Jumin is already elaborating on his own idea, growing more eager about it with each passing second. You've heard from his father that he gets like this, from time to time. Usually, it applies to his (cat-related) business pursuits, but you suppose it's possible that the man has an interest in art as well.

You smile.

Oh, who are you kidding?

You know the real reason why he's so eager to make a painting with you.

It's for the memories.

A physical memory, a tangible reminder, that the two of you were once together, mutual love stroked into the canvas as an eternal token to you. It's not a painting of the city that has yet to wake up, but a portrait of your relationship. Dark but beautiful. Shrouded by shadow but only to the untrained eye. Unseen by most but very much there.

You smile, finishing your cup of coffee as Jumin quickly sets up a canvas, a stool, paints, and all the other tools one could possibly need for painting. A part of you wonders where on earth he salvaged these objects from, surprisingly high-quality materials for someone who's job is their hobby, but you don't question it.

The almost giddy smile on Jumin's face only evokes a similar enthusiasm in you, as you join him in beginning to sketch the cityscape outline.

In truth, the whole process is a bit of a mess. You argue for a few minutes over what the four bounds of the view will be, on the sizes of the buildings, and on the shading cues. But the longer you work, the better your cooperation is. There comes a point where you're not even talking, pencils filling the silence where words are absent.

By the time you two have finished your preliminary outline, the markings on the canvas almost resemble the actual cityscape, and neither of you can hold back your smiles at the sight.

Lovely.

Jumin finally steps back after fixating on the angle of a particularly tall window, sitting on the stool as he tries to evaluate what needs further work before the two of you can continue to paint.

"I'm not sure how the details on the tops of these buildings will carry when we paint over this," He muses. "It might be worth our while to focus more on the areas that are better illuminated, like the streets with their lampposts and whatnot."

"That's fine," You mumble, walking forward to obscure his vision of the painting. You loop your arms around his neck, smiling sweetly at him. Sketching has been fun, no doubt, but your right hand hurts a bit from gripping the pencil for so long.

Jumin only strains his neck to look above you.

"Also, I feel like we went a bit overboard with the stars. It's probably better to draw in the ones that are most visible, and then the less bright ones can be added in with a dulled version of the—"

"It's fine," You mumble, interrupting Jumin with a pout. When he opens his mouth again to speak, you silence him with a long kiss.

It's the first one of the day, you realize. Last night, you'd barely had time to breathe with the vigor at which Jumin was kissing you, lips constantly colliding in a desperate summon for more. Now, though, you're able to savor it. Enjoy the softness of his lips, the way they gently mold into yours.

Amidst the silence of the penthouse and the silence of the city, it truly feels like you two are the only ones alive in the world, every star in the sky you just sketched watching over the both of you as you continue to kiss.

"Ready?" Jumin mumbles into the kiss, pulling you closer to him by your hips. You almost step back to ask him Ready for what? when the answer comes as he lifts your body up, placing you on top of his lap.

He lets out a light chuckle at your momentary disbelief at what just happened.

Instantly, you grip the man's shoulders for support, not trusting the small stool he's sitting on to fully support both of you, and Jumin settles his hands about your waist. Relax, he seems to be saying, though his lips are on yours. I won't let you fall.

Gradually, you begin to melt into the kiss, forgetting the instability of the stool and the exposure of the window and everything else except for him. In this position, you actually get to look down at him as you make out, and it feels glorious. In turn, Jumin looks up at you and kisses you like you're a goddess, worshiping you with every time his lips ghost over your skin. The position gives him complete access to your neck, he soon finds, and he sets to littering the area with every mark his tongue can produce, leaving no part of you his lips can touch unclaimed.

It's not long before both your tops are discarded on the floor, lost in the heat of the moment.

The kisses, once chaste and slow, turn fervent with desire, and Jumin lifts your body like a doll, discarding your remaining clothing without even raising his lips from your skin.

He takes his time with you, savoring the moment. And despite your quiet pleas for him to stop teasing you, you love every second of it—the man already so well-versed in the language of your body, picking up its every cue.

And before long, the sun is beginning to peek into the sky and your wishes of watching the sunrise alongside finish your painting of the cityscape fade, but none of that matters because in the moment you're with Jumin and it's hot and it's passionate and it's breathtaking and you never want to let go.

Yet even as he continues pulling your body close to him, letting you feel the outline of his muscles, you know that, in the end, what you want doesn't matter.

But wrapped in Jumin's arms as he continues sucking and biting in all the right spots, you allow yourself to forget that. Just a little bit, you tell yourself, closing your eyes, allowing all thoughts to drift away so you can simply enjoy the moment. Let me forget about everything, just for a little while.

Surely you deserve that much?

MASTERLIST

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9 | Day 10 | ✔

Word count: 1.9k

Notes: It is currently 7 in the morning and I have not slept since my afternoon nap yesterday and I still have a oneshot to write, a quiz to take, a meeting to attend, a work out to do, all my hw to finish, and I HaVEnT stUdIeD fOR tHe qUiZ yET SEnD HeLP

Comment & Like

Next Update: 5/09/20

I do not own the rights to Mystic Messenger or any of the characters within it.

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prodigalsonheadcanons · 5 years ago

Text

“You play?”

He perked, turning to look over his shoulder. Dani’s eyebrows were raised a little, as she looked from him to the piano. He looked back as well. He’d been walking by, and he’d slowed, getting distracted and reaching out to let his fingers brush lightly over the keys. He’d meant to be quick, but his hand had ended up staying, once he came to a slow stop. He must have been staring at it longer than he even realized, going by the look that was on her face. He hesitated for a moment. But then he smiled a little. “Uh— yeah. I haven’t played in a while, but…yeah, I used to play.”

She titled her head, looking between him and the instrument. She crossed her arms over her chest, and started her way slowly over. Her footsteps echoed throughout the theater. They’d just wrapped up a case of a Columbia University student’s murder. They’d been a prominent figure in the music performance program— they’d been only a few months away from graduation. The finger had ultimately been pointed to the best friend, who had just happened to be the second chair violinist. It was a simple case. Sad, but simple. Now, they were just on their way out.

The stage had been left set up for the concert that had been originally scheduled the day after the murder had taken place. The chairs were still arranged in neat, perfect rows. The piano had been set up in the back, and as they’d walked, he’d subconsciously drifted its way. Even now, when she walked back over to him, his hand stayed poised above the keys. “Do you know how to play?” he asked.

She made a face. “Does Mary Had a Little Lamb count?”

He laughed. “I don’t see why not.”

“I imagine you know a little bit more than that, though,” she mused.

“You’d be correct— I also know Hot Cross Buns.” This earned a small laugh. He looked back at the piano, and a little more thought crawled over his face. “No, uh…” He cleared his throat. “It was something my mom had me do, growing up. She was always…complaining I never did anything but read.” Dani nodded, not surprised in the slightest. “She got me to do a bunch of stuff…some of them I actually ended up liking. Piano…I was sure I wouldn’t like it, but…it was actually one of my favorite things.” His eyes were getting a little softer, as he dragged his fingers along the keys once more. He was out of practice…feeling the smoothness again was like when you came home after a long vacation. Foreign but familiar.

Dani’s eyes flickered from him to the piano. She waited a couple of seconds, but he didn’t move. So she sighed, focusing his attention again as she suddenly dragged the chair out from where it was tucked underneath. He looked confused, so, feigning impatience, she prompted: “Come on, then.” He frowned. She gestured to the chair. “You’re gonna play something, right? Or are you just going to talk about it?”

“You—” Apprehension started to crawl under his skin. “You want me to play?”

“No, I want you to pick it up and throw it off the stage. Yes, I want you to play it.”

“I haven’t…I haven’t played in ages, I’m…probably out of practice,” he tried to stammer.

“You’ll be better at it than me,” she reasoned. He still seemed lost. She gestured to it again. “Come on, Bright; I want to hear you. Something a little more impressive than Hot Cross Buns, though,” she added, a bit of a teasing glint in her eyes.

Malcolm hesitated, clearing his throat. He studied the piano and seemed to wrack his brain, but then he must have finally landed on something. It was slow, but resolution settled in his eyes, however unwillingly. It wasn’t like she was going to drop it. “Fine…” Dani smirked a little when he sat down. Slowly, he settled his fingers into place. His expression was crowded with thought. He tested out a few notes, making sure it was in tune. Once he did, he stretched his neck to the side a little, sitting up straighter. She had to stifle another smile when she saw how careful he was being. Reluctantly, he murmured, almost to himself: “There’s…this one song…”

He took in a slow breath. Suddenly, the theater seemed about a million times quieter. It was broken when he began to play, but it was broken in a way that was gentle, and soothing. Whatever song it was, it faintly resembled a lullaby. Something relaxing you would listen to, to try and calm down. His fingers were fast over the keys, but there was nothing rushed about the song at all. Dani tore her gaze away from his thoughtful expression and looked at his hands, tracing back and forth across the piano with ease. She was surprised. His hands tended to shake, quite a lot. Now, they were perfectly steady. There wasn’t any sort of tremor at all, anymore; all there was, was expertise.

For not having played in ages, he sounded pretty perfect. He could have fooled her.

He only played a couple measures. She was surprised when he suddenly took his hands away, like he’d been burned. He blanched, before he turned and stared up at her awkwardly. She met his doubt with a tiny smile. “Why’d you stop?” He didn’t seem sure on what to say back. She decided to change tactics. “It sounded pretty.”

He did a tiny double-take. “You’ve…you’ve never heard that song before?”

She shook her head. “No…should I have?”

It almost made him laugh. “You had to have heard it before— it’s such a popular song.”

She just shrugged. “Apparently not popular enough.”

“No— you’ve heard of it.” He sounded fairly certain. She just gave him a look, as if to ask, ‘What do you want me to do?’ He shook his head and twisted back around. He set his fingers on the keys again, faster this time, since he’d gotten a feel again for where they belonged. He started the song over, replaying the first few measures he’d just finished. He glanced at her as he did, apparently waiting for recognition, but nothing was ringing a bell. It sounded beautiful, but it didn’t sound familiar.

He kept going, carrying on the gentle tune. He repeated through the measures, some degree of inner debate running through his head. He seemed unsure. But eventually, with one final flash of his eyes, he decided to continue. To Dani’s shock, he started to sing. Quietly, in a soft mumble. It was more than likely he was just trying to jog her memory and make her realize what song it was that he was playing, rather than actually putting in the effort to sound good.

“They say that these are not the best of times…but they’re the only times I’ve ever known…” Dani was looking at him with clear surprise. He wasn’t looking at her, though; resolutely, he was keeping his eyes trained on his fingers. Even when he began to multitask, and sing along, there was still no effort shown in the playing. He went on just as perfectly. His voice matched the lugubrious tune. She found her surprise quickly fading, being replaced with interest that was slowly, because of the song, growing solemn. “And I believe there is a time for meditation, in cathedrals of our own.”

In the small pause that existed between the words, still playing, Malcolm glanced at her. He was unsure, but she was quick to meet his gaze and smile. When she did, he seemed to relax. He smiled a little bit, too, before he looked back down. He kept going, his voice getting a little stronger, and louder. He was a good singer, Dani thought to herself. It was surprising. This entire thing was surprising. But she wasn’t putting it to a stop. “Now, I have seen that sad surrender in my lover’s eyes…and I can only stand apart and sympathize.” His expression was quickly growing soberer. His voice was, too, as he continued to sing. “For we are always what our situations hand us; it’s either sadness or euphoria…”

There was a longer break, this time. Malcolm continued to play, leaning forward into the music more. Again, he was able to glance at Dani as he kept playing, not missing a single beat. He conjured a tiny smirk. “You have to know this song,” he insisted, under all the notes.

She insisted just as quietly: “I really don’t.” He was radiating skepticism. She moved to sit down beside him. He shifted over a little, to make sure there was room on the bench. She flashed him a smile, before she looked back at the piano, her eyes getting a little softer as she tracked his playing. “But I like it— keep going.”

He took in a deeper breath. He cleared his throat, shaking off his nerves. But again, she noticed that his hands weren’t trembling. His voice was getting more and more confident the further into the song he got. “So we’ll argue, and we’ll compromise. And realize that nothing’s ever changed. For all our mutual experience, our separate conclusions are the same.” He had to reach out more to the right a bit, to reach the notes; in doing so, he accidentally brushed against her. She didn’t lean away.

She looked at him; her chest tightened unexpectedly when she realized that there was a sense of sorrow growing in the back of his gaze. It was a strange kind of sorrow— it wasn’t overpowering, or strong. It was like it was normal. Like it was always there, but this was just bringing it into actual light. “Now, we are forced to recognize our inhumanity. The reason coexists with our insanity.” Dani wilted, when she recognized there was a hollowness to his singing. She was caught on the sober look on his face. He seemed to be getting more and more distracted. It was like she could see him forgetting she was there in the first place. His eyes slid shut. He was moving a little more to the music as he played. “And though we choose between reality, and madness…it’s either sadness or euphoria…”

Her heart pulled. In her lap, her hands were clenching. When asked to play something, his mind had gone to this first, and she could tell why. It wasn’t just because it was beautiful. She could see it in the melancholy look he wore, as he stared through the keys and not exactly at anything. It was as though he was seeing something she wasn’t— that he was thinking about something too hard to actually see what was in front of him anymore. It told a lot about him…when he let his guard down like this.

Dani didn’t look away. At some point, she had stopped watching him play. She’d looked away from the piano, to him instead, and she didn’t want to look anywhere else. She wasn’t thinking about it. She just studied him, and listened to him. Feeling herself take on the taste of the sorrow hiding in the song. “How thoughtlessly we dissipate our energies. Perhaps we don’t fulfill each other’s fantasies.” He had to lean against her a little to reach the keys again. She was well aware of the pressure, however slight. She stayed still. “And as we stand upon the ledges of our lives, with our respective similarities…”

His eyes shut again. By now, he was swaying ever so gently along with the melody. And as he sang the last line, the strongest and loudest yet, Dani felt something in her chest squeeze. “…It’s either sadness or euphoria...” He played through, keeping his eyes closed as he hummed along. The soothing, beautiful notes filled up the silence that had been there before; it was just as soft, just as calming, all the way to the end. As he played, he began to slow, and the music gradually began to fade. The moment Dani realized, her chest was tearing all over again. She didn’t want it to end. She wanted it to last longer. She wanted to keep listening; she wanted to keep watching him, this way. She wanted to keep listening to his voice and how soft it was. How slow, and soothing and emotional.

But eventually, the music trailed to an end. Malcolm slowed to an eventual stop. The last couple of notes echoed in the grand auditorium. His eyes stayed closed, his hands stayed where they are— he was savoring it as much as Dani was. For a long stretch of seconds, they sat just like that, Malcolm’s eyes closed and Dani staring at him intently. Once he did open his eyes again, she was embarrassed, when he caught her looking. But she couldn’t very well defend herself.

They stared at one another, neither sure as to what they were supposed to say. The longer the silence went on, the more apprehensive Malcolm seemed to get. He glanced from her to the piano before he cleared his throat and asked a blunt, very awkward: “You’ve...never heard that song before?” His voice sounded much different now. Smaller...weaker.

Her voice was quieter than normal. “No…never.”

He made a face. Looked at the keys and then blankly at the curtain of the stage before he just offered a simple: “Huh.” She tilted her head to the side. He couldn’t take the silence. Abruptly, he shot to his feet, suddenly anxious to leave. She could read his discomfort from a mile away. He whirled around and began to rush away. “Well we should get back, I guess, Gil needs us to—”

“Bright.” He stopped, grimacing a little. With reluctance, he turned. She was still sitting on the bench. When their eyes met, he looked even more uncomfortable, but she smiled. “It was very pretty,” she murmured. He straightened, blinking with surprise. Her smile grew warmer. “Thank you. For playing for me.”

At first, he seemed too shocked to say anything. It took a while for the words to sink in. But it did. Little by little. Slowly, he cracked a slightly flustered smile, that made Dani’s own grow in size. He glanced at his feet, a little embarrassed. Before he looked back at her and returned a subdued but happy: “You’re welcome.”

A continuation of my headcanon about Malcolm being able to play the piano. I’ve always thought this song would fit perfectly with him.

#Sing us a song you're the piano man #Prodigal Son #Malcolm Bright #Dani Powell #Brightwell #Headcanon #Tiny fic #I love this song <3 #Also be gentle about the lyrics he changes them from performance to performance I guess lol I used the one I listen to the most

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itsblissfuloblivion · 5 years ago

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Torch - Chapter 3: November

A/N: We are one day late but it’s here! Get ready...

Love,

@fightfortherightsofhouseelves

@gryffindormischief

Also on FF and Ao3

Torch: a Hinny canon compliant multi-chaptered fic featuring HBP missing moments. Updates every first day of every month, from September 2019 to August 2020.

_____

Hallowe’en, for all he knows of it now, was a boring event during the first eleven years of Harry’s life. Dudley would gorge himself on candy, gather up his cronies to increase their usual levels of Harry-focused torment, and Harry would simply wait for the day to end like he did any other.

Since his first year at Hogwarts, the end of October has generally been a mix of angst and some sort of life-endangering drama. In between, the Hallowe’en feast at least provided some form of light hearted fun.

When October 30th dawned, Harry had been looking forward to a day spent playing quidditch and avoiding Hermione’s heavy handed comments about the importance of revising early and thoroughly. By the time the sun sets, Harry’s almost hoping Voldemort plans to finish what he started fifteen Hallowe’ens ago.

At least he would only have to tolerate another twenty-four hours of Ron’s moping.

It’s not enough that practice was shite and they’re basically about to be destroyed on the pitch in less than a week. Ron’s got to go all dramatic and say he plans to resign . Harry finds himself wondering if there’s an encouraging way to say he’d rather have shite Ron than deal with McLaggen’s diva attitude.

After supper in the Great Hall, Harry loses himself in the rush of students and eventually wanders into the courtyard - moonlit and delightfully abandoned.

Finally feeling like his brain has an opportunity for quiet , Harry drops down onto the ledge surrounding the fountain and throws his arm over his eyes.

His spine pops a bit at being stretched so absolutely but in that good ‘am I creepy to enjoy this’ way.

Water spray tickles his bare skin, a touch icy despite whatever charms keep it from freezing over and Harry almost feels he could drift off. And maybe he does, until a throat clears and draws him from his funk.

Craning his neck only enough to identify the interloper, Harry finds Ginny Weasley eyeing him with a raised brow. “Don’t think pneumonia will get you out of this game.”

“Imagine if Oliver Wood heard I skipped out for a less than deadly ailment.”

Ginny laughs and wanders closer as Harry pushes himself into a sitting position and muses, “He’d probably be more disappointed I’ve let the Gryffindor team fall into such a state.”

Shrugging, Ginny picks at her fingernails and says, “Are you telling me Wood never lead a bad practice? You can’t put everyone’s performance on yourself. It’s up to us at some point, yeah?”

Harry glances up and meets Ginny’s gaze, so confident and strong when he recalls her blushing looks his first year.

Hell, she’s confident and strong on any litmus test and Harry can’t help but be bolstered by her words, ready to fight another day so to speak.

While he considers some new tactics to implement - on the field and in a more mental preparation type way - Harry finds he doesn’t feel the need to drop his eyes from Ginny’s.

And she hasn’t either.

It’s almost tangible, the feeling building in his chest. So much that he almost wishes it was mutual. Until he remembers Dean and severs the connection.

“Thanks, Gin.”

Her smile is small, but real enough. “Anytime Harry.”

___

By November 2nd, Harry’s so fed up with Ron and his constant fuming and grouching around, he’s almost willing to forget the past six years of friendship for the two minutes he’d need to properly bitchslap his best mate.

Seeing that nobody (maybe except Ginny) would regard such behaviour as captain-y, Harry sighs and sucks it up. There’s a match they must win today after all. So he pretends his little old hand slips with a dash of lucky potion exactly when Hermione happens to be looking. Oops.

At least now Ron’s chuffed and his ego oiled and pampered enough to pull some actual Keeping out of him. Harry can see it in the way Ron walks, prances, struts his way to the pitch - and he shakes his head and smiles. The match is certainly theirs.

It’s only when Harry catches a glimpse of red from the corner of his eye, rapidly obstructed by broader, less delightful Dean-shaped figure hovering over her for his own version of Felix Felicis: a kiss from Ginny.

Something inside Harry’s chest growls dangerously and he draws a long, shuddering breath to silence it. Not the time, he thinks.

Jaw set and hardened, Harry trots together with the Gryffindor team, entering the pitch in roaring, thundering applause. It’s deafening.

And they do win - how could they not? It’s exhilarating, and the whole team gathers in a spine-numbing hug around Harry, and Ron’s so proud and glowing the knowledge that this win is his as much as any of the others’.

Until Hermione just can’t help herself and confronts Harry so he admits, figures it’s safe to let Ron know it was all him now. No Felix, only him. But of course he finds a way to turn his win into a kick to his ego, it’s Ron.

Looking at his best mates hurt and mad, at Ginny disappearing with Dean, at his team chanting their way back to the castle in the midst of happy shouts from their fellow Gryffindors, Harry can’t bring himself to feel too excited. There’s an annoying voice at the back of his mind whispering that the worst is yet to come.

Dumbledore should just hire him to co-teach Divination with Trelawny and Firenze because it seems he’s a natural at it. Exactly as he feared, things do take a new, ugly turn just when he relaxes enough to forget about the looming danger of his best mates jumping at each other’s throats and Ginny points out that Ron’s already jumped - but not at Hermione and in a totally different way than Harry’s imagined.

Ron and Lavender. Lavender and Ron. All Harry can do is blink and...blink some more. Talk about unexpected.

The door to the Common Room slams shut and Harry closes his eyes tightly, silently curses Ron and slips out after Hermione, unnoticed. It’s hard seeing her like this, heart broken and crying all alone. Harry tries his best to support her, but he knows it’s useless...If he allows himself three seconds of honesty, he’d actually tell her that he’d been feeling the same for awhile. So they sit next to each other in silence, the sad and the broken.

Until Ron barges in, Lavender in a fit of giggles in his wake and Hermione looks more mad than Harry’s ever seen her. The insane, pained look in her eyes - it’s terrifying.

And she curses him, and Harry catches the shock on his best friend’s face before the birds hit and the pain sets in.

What a mess.

Later, when he says goodbye to Hermione in the Common Room, Harry climbs the stairs to his dorm feeling bereft, opens the door and readies himself for another blow.

But Dean’s inside, head leaning towards Seamus. It seems like Harry’s interrupted an important talk because both boys jump a bit when he walks in. Still, Harry pays them no mind and rushes out through the door, Cloak securely in his pocket.

“What the fuck.”

Harry grins. There’s only one mouth who could’ve said that, belonging to only one person who could’ve guessed there’s someone attempting to sneak out of the Gryffindor Tower invisibly.

“Hello to you too,” Harry bumps Ginny’s elbow from under the Cloak.

“Going incognito, are we?” Ginny arches an eyebrow, looking somewhere in Harry’s general direction.

“Too much drama, had to hide.”

She pretends to sigh, “Ah, well, I was about to hit the kitchen for some hot milk with cinnamon but don’t let me stop your little undercover mission.”

It’s an invitation to food and mischief and Harry’s not about to let it slip by.

“Lead on.”

Ginny does grin, satisfied and raises her palms to feel around her, “Make way, I’m coming in.”

“You sure it’s enough space for the both of us?” Harry teases.

She takes one look at him and shrugs.

“Not my fault if that bum of yours got too big. You should really cut down on your treacle tart intake.”

Harry pouts and tickles her mercilessly in return. His fingers play over her middle, tickling everywhere as she laughs and dances away from him, Cloak fluttering around them but Harry doesn’t care. All he wants now is her laugh, loud and boisterous, and Ginny...Ginny, with her freckled face and blazing look, Ginny laughing in his arms as they’re hidden in plain sight. Ginny.

He doesn’t have the map, but by now sneaking to the kitchens is something he could do in his sleep. Overall, it feels nice to be doing something stealthy for reasons related to treacle tart and impressing a girl rather than investigating the dark activities of your classmates.

The journey from the common room passes quickly as Ginny murmurs cheeky stories about each of the portraits; likely made up and all the more fun for it. When he tickles the pear and slips inside behind Ginny, Dobby is immediately on them, nearly knocking Harry over as he tucks the Invisibility Cloak away.

Ginny grins at Harry over Dobby’s head as they’re ushered to one of the long tables and seated with much prodding from the house elf’s spindly fingers. As has become something of a custom, Dobby praises Harry to an excessive degree and with Ginny as witness, he can’t help but blush.

Once they’ve requested treacle tart and warm milk to go along with it, Dobby departs with a flap of his ears and Ginny nudges Harry. “Eleven year old me would be so disappointed.”

“Because I’m quite boring and sneak about to get treats?”

Ginny laughs. “No - that would’ve been a selling feature. I mean young Ginny fancied herself your biggest fan, but it appears she’s been overtaken.”

Grinning, Harry props his chin on his hand and for some reason decides now will be the time he’s finally able to wink without looking like he’s got something in his eyes. Based on Ginny’s stifled chuckles, he doesn’t succeed, but he can’t really hate anything that raises that smile on her face.

Dobby returns, deposits their plates and mugs on the table, and disappears off to manage something or other while Harry cuts two healthy slices from the fresh tart. “He’s never given me a singing card though.”

And then, to Harry’s everlasting joy, Ginny actually blushes and stalls for time by taking a sip so overlarge she begins coughing almost instantly. He rises, ready to slap her back or do any manner of things to set her right - even the torture of a purely medical press of his lips to hers - but she soon recovers.

Ginny swipes the tears from her eyes with a sigh. “That was not nice.”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m both deluded and a delinquent.”

“Is that a quote from Umbridge or Skeeter?” Ginny asks around a bite of treacle.

“Joke’s on you, it was Snape,” Harry shoots back, taking a long sip of his milk.

“Well if the supreme potions master turned defense against the dark arts teacher says so it must be true,” Ginny drawls, placing air quotes around defense .

Harry pushes his glasses up, more for something to do than from genuine need, and nibbles on a bit of crust. “D’you trust him?”

Her smile is sad now, even as her eyes bore into his. “I find the number of people I genuinely trust gets smaller and smaller with each passing year. You’re probably the only person I would say that to.”

“Dunno if my agreement is a vote of confidence in the intelligence of your judgment,” Harry mutters, picking at his tart.

Scoffing, Ginny tosses a serviette in his face and cuts another sliver for herself. “Stuff it, you know you’re brilliant. I came here for sweets, not to fluff your ego so you turn into a preening arsehole,” she grins at the end, her lips twisted in a dangerous smile, “ Speaking of my brother -”

“He and Hermione may end me before ol’ Moldy-shorts.”

___

“Not like it’s any of my business,” Harry drawls, turning a page of the Prince’s book, “But shouldn’t you tell him?”

“And what exactly should I be telling who?” Hermione volleys right back, tone a little waspish.

Harry draws in a breath, already regretting he’s opened the subject - but they are in the library and if he’s forced to spend another hour with Hermione looking at Ron out of the corner of her eye and Ron looking back at her from two tables away, where he’s studying with Lavender and Parvati, he’s pretty positive he’ll basically move in with Hagrid.

“Ron. Why don’t you just tell Ron that you’re sorry?”

Hermione slams her book shut, looks at Harry dangerously.

“Whatever should I be sorry for?”

“Does it even matter?” Harry answers, clipped. “Look, Hermione,” he pauses and sighs, “the two of you are my best mates and it’s difficult watching you angsting around instead of talking and, you know, sorting things out.”

“Well then,” Hermione jumps to her feet like an angry cat, “I will go angst somewhere else then.”

Harry can hear her stomping out of the library, completely ignoring Madam Pince or anyone else for that matter. With one last look at Ron, Harry lays his forehead on the old battered book, removes his glasses and closes his eyes. Why is having feelings so complicated?

When Harry finally convinces himself that there’ll be no more studying in the real sense of the word for the day, he throws all his stuff in his bag, takes another look at Ron’s ginger head, hoping he’d somehow manage to telepathically convey that he’s acting a bit like a git for the wrong reasons, then trots out of the library, the castle, and down towards Hagrid’s.

Later, when he’s gorged himself on Hagrid’s special rock cakes and he’d drank enough hot tea to keep the cold outside at bay, Harry finally starts to feel better. It’s nice near the fire, Fang resting his big head on his lap as Harry scratches him between the ears.

“I heard Ron’s with Lavender, eh?” Hagrid starts, dropping on the seat next to Harry, his pink apron fluttering about him.

Harry raises one eyebrow, but grins, “News travel at the speed of light, then.”

“We professors know more than you kids think,” he chuckles pleased.

There’s a pause, interrupted only by Fang’s deep snores.

“How’s Hermione?”

Harry studies him intently before he answers.

“She’s been better, I suppose.”

“Ye know, Harry, I like Ron. He’s a good lad, but sometimes he’s not too smart,” Hagrid stares into the dancing flames of the fire and shakes his head, dark hair falling down in rings around his big, kind face.

“Why do you say that?”

“Yer a smart boy, ye’ll figure it out,” Hagrid winks. “And Hermione too, she ain’t the brightest witch o’ her age for nothing. They are somethin’ , those redheads. Right, Harry?” He goes on to chuckle and Harry can feel himself blush.

Yet he pretends he didn’t understand, finds a good enough excuse to leave and drags his feet back to the castle in the near dark of an end of day, his bag full with rock cakes and untouched homework.

He falls asleep that night holding the Marauder’s Map, eyes boring into Ginny’s dot, waiting for it to move and return to the Common Room, to at least exit the classroom it shared with Dean’s dot for the past hour. Ironic, if Ron only knew there was only one wall between himself and his sister…

Harry’s last thought before he dreams is of Hermione and how lucky she is not to have a magical Map.

____

Over time, one of the strangest things Harry’s realized about his life - which seems quite adventurous to an outsider - is that it’s filled with long stretches of normalcy. The difficulty that is singular to his particular situation, is that even the most calm, boring, normal times feel like borrowed minutes that will turn sour and deadly at any moment.

Living with this sort of dichotomy of feelings leaves him to sleepless or fitful nights, and often a sour stomach that can’t quite manage to settle. As a result, his today breakfast is a sparse affair with barely buttered toast and a cup of tea so strong his spoon could stand.

Overall, when he takes a figurative step back and examines himself, Harry can admit he’s having something of a pity party. His best mates are quarreling like a couple on the verge of divorce, the girl he should think of like a sister is haunting his daydreams in decidedly non sisterly ways, everyone seems to be dating except him, and most days he’s torn between avoiding seeing Ginny and Dean or Ron and Lavender.

Really though, the thing he feels the most angry about is the fact that he really doesn’t have the luxury to dwell on any of that shite. He’s bloody sixteen years old and instead of spending his free time escaping the library and mooning over a girl who fancied him until right about when he...did not. He does not .

Regardless, the point is he’s spending most days diving into a genocidal maniac’s childhood and trying to determine exactly how his classmate is going to wreak dark magic havoc on the unsuspecting student body, rather than wallowing like a good, normal, angsty teenager.

So he does the only thing he knows. After breakfast, Harry manages to wedge himself between students and slip from the hall and out onto the grounds. Nothing like a good fly to calm his wild thoughts, he muses on the way.

He reaches the stands in record time, retrieves his broom and feels it hum to life in his palm, and finally trots out to the snowy pitch. Only to find he’s not the only student with the idea.

And as he watches her fly in graceful arcs across the sky, swirling and sending her hair twisting like a wild red pennant, Harry’s chest clenches.

She flips upside down, arms spread as she lets out a loud whoop and Harry feels himself breathe freely, even if just for a moment, and slips back into the shadows.

#itsblissfulbolivion writes #itsblissfuloblivion #torch #harry x ginny #hinny #hinny fic #ron x hermione #romione #hbp fic #torch chapter 3 #torch november

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lifecftheparty · 5 years ago

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━ ☾ ✧･ﾟ “ he was full of light, in whom is no darkness at all”

ʻ / let me introduce you to a prized member of our environmental club , FAZIL IMANI . this CISMALE CANCER has been a student at our institution for 4 MONTHS and is currently a 21 year old JUNIOR. through the halls , he/him has/have always reminded me of aria shahghasemi , but there is always more than meets the eye , like the fact that he sells his dad’s pharmaceuticals to fund his own drug addiction . coral cape has made their future just as bright as their smile , i assure you . ʼ ( muse 15 , aubrie , 19, pst, she/her )

↪ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ 𝕗𝕒𝕫𝕚𝕝 𝕟𝕒𝕫𝕖𝕖𝕞 𝕚𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕚

BASICS:

nicknames: fazi

pronouns: he/him

age & dob: july 14, 1998 ( 21 )

origin: carnegie hill, new york

nationality: american

ethnicity: iranian

fluent in: english, persian & a bit of arabic

occupation: drug dealer freelance artist

height: 5′11

sexual orientation: ???

major: biology & art

clubs: environmental club

↪ *:✧ background

trigger warning ! drugs, drug abuse, car accident, death

IMANI PHARMACEUTICALS ━ a name you MIGHT recognize from the side of your zoloft bottle. from benzodiazepines to amphetamines, they specialized in at all -- A GREAT EMPIRE, built off of other’s sorrows and fazil was happily perched next to the throne. a family portrait, four heads adorning a thin-lipped line -- not a smile in sight. and just by glance, you could tell the family meant business. a serious group, all doctors, all their own achievements; a glistening image of PERFECTION, if not for the taint they liked to call FAZIL.

he didn’t mean to be a fuck-up, but alas, his body was completed with error and corrupted by bad decisions. THE FIRST BEING ━ his art. an adorable skill, at first. though, like a flower, it started to blossom into more than a childish hobby, and that was when they tried to uproot it from the ground. oh, how his family DESPISED his art ; oh, how fazil despised his FAMILY -- it was a mutual passage of hate. really, painting was the only thing he had ever felt ambition for, otherwise a foreign feeling to the sullied son. he could care less about doctorate programs, but it was the path he was set on since birth -- a forced burden he could NEVER get rid of.

he lived to reject everything his family represented; the happy-go-lucky, irresponsible, reckless boy mirrored the solemn and dignified imani clan. taking to extremes to separate himself from those around him, he dived head first into the deep end. he began to get involved with drugs -- and lots of them. cocaine, xanax, morphine, you name it ━ all were party favors in the new york night life, those in which he was more than eager to dabble in. the feelings of euphoria that would shine down on him where storm clouds once reigned, the wide smile that would stretch across his face, and the body, that almost felt weightless. the highs they produced were those of which he could not experience on his own, and like a foolish wanderer, he followed them down a rabbit hole -- their effects so tantalizing even fazil could not resist. OF COURSE ━ he could stop if he wanted, but what happens when the bleary-eyed teen refuses himself paradise? shivers, aches, pain so sickening it would spew from his mouth. no matter how much he didn’t want to admit it, he couldn’t stay away. it held him in a choke-hold, ever-so slowly draining his life.

the result of making an already irresponsible boy forget the bounds of consequence? a totaled ferrari and a DEATH-- no, no, no, fazil wasn’t prepared for that. an unforeseen causality in the war with his family. god -- his family, how ENRAGED they were, his father noting that he had wished it was fazil that was the one lying lifeless on the ground. a plan had to be put into place, NOTHING could ruin this family’s image; not fazil, and definitely not a murder. a cover up was devised, could you be surprised? the imani’s were saturated with money, and with money, bought ignorance. and to save face, he was booted out to live with his brother in maine, and made to attend CAPE CORAL. nasty habits die hard though, and fazil’s fought back, refusing to lie dormant. no way could he be sober now, but how do you maintain your ever-growing addiction? WELL ━ it’s crazy what a last name and a forged signature can get you.

↪ *:✧ personality

on the outside fazil presents himself to be this happy-go-lucky, fun-loving guy. which, to an extent, he is. however especially since the accident he festers a LOT of shame, embarrassment, and remorse. he is so full of regret and it really does haunt him on how things went down.

as said, he has a lot of shame. not only for the accident, but also his addiction and how bad it is. he would absolutely hate anyone finding out about either of those, and would probably get really aggro with whoever did. especially if said person tried to take his drugs away or something of that nature?? would not be a happy camper.

speaking of, he cannot go without his drugs, and will literally do anything to obtain a high.

while he tries to reject his family, it does hurt him that he cannot appease them, insecure about the fact he really doesn’t live up to the family name.

on a happier note -- loves, loves, LOVES painting. really is one of the only positive things in his life, will gush on about it for days. if he shows you his art, he’d lowkey be so anxious for approval ( though he wouldn’t admit it ).

plant dad™ loves plants and the earth. if he sees you liter he WILL pummel you.

total flirt, has commitment issues and doesn’t realize it. kind of a fuck-boy but isn’t so brazen about...which is kind of worse?

in general, he’s a pretty laid back guy, doesn’t care too much about status. but really what you see is what you get, he will not let anyone past the front he puts on!

↪ *:✧ wanted connections

i want to say, first off, i am REALLY up for anything. pls feel free to throw any ideas my way i am sure we can work something out <3

best friend !! : someone that he just connects with more than everyone!! while he wouldn’t disclose much about his past, he’d probably let them in on more than he does with everyone else. and i mean lets be honest...there will be a point they find something out. imagine the angst....

someone he fools around with : i mean...im sorry he really is a fuckboy. he doesn’t mean to be though!! i think it’d be interesting to have someone he has a strong flirtationship with or something a little more ifyaknowwhatimsayin. i think it’d be cool for it eventually reach an unrequited love type of thing..whether that’s on his part or your muse. unless you just wanna keep it like they both kinda know what it is..and they’re both okay with leaving it like that. really up for whatever!

frenemies : yOU ALREADY KNOW!! the banter!!! the bickering!!! the annoying the hell out of each other!!! I WANT IT ALL

deep romantic connection : aka someone that really makes him tap into his feelings/emotions. really tests him as a person, and forces him to just really care?? this would be a slow burn thing but again....imagine the angst....

someone who knows/finds out about his secrets : this can tie into plots and doesn’t have to be just it’s own standalone ( if that makes sense ). but i think i’d really like someone just eventually figuring it out and kinda being like fazi ??? what are you doing ?? now this can come at an angle of concern OR maybe your character finds out somehow and hangs it over his head. I would also like to note that fazi came into the school randomly, showed up in the middle of the school year like nothing, and when asked about it he has a bullshit excuse. so mayhaps someone tries to really look into it and pesters him about it. and it makes him turn into the panic emoji

customer : someone he sells drugs to, which btw! would only be over the counter meds his father makes !! the harder drugs he buys himself for his own collection

anyhoot, that’s all i could think of rn but i’m sure i’ll add more in the future! and like i said, i am open to ANYTHING. please please hmu <3

#this was way too long i am sorry ;-;#about.#capecoral:intro #drug tw #drug abuse tw #death tw

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heesgf · 6 years ago

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apollo. musician! hyunsuk au.

in which choi hyunsuk’s exterior is bright like apollo, and you skim beneath his surface.

plot: choi hyunsuk is a charming guitarist, and you’re tasked with reviewing his performance for your school’s journalism column.

word count: 3k

pairing: reader x choi hyunsuk

a/n: i’d like to dedicate this dreamy fic to my lovely suk biased mutuals/followers! might be one of my fav pieces ever... it’s a little new for me, but i hope u angels enjoy anyways!!!💞 i hope you’ll give it a chance, and ur support means everything to me!!! ｡：ﾟ(｡ﾉω＼｡)ﾟ･｡

warnings: choi hyunsuk being a flirty baby and lots!!! of pining!!! mostly fluff, but some angst here and there, underage drinking???

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Beneath the incandescent glow of sputtering stage lights, Choi Hyunsuk’s was the face that launched the yearning heart.

The perfect muse.

The boy clad in white chiffon garments, in gold and silver chains. With those hoops that hung loosely from his ears and shimmering pendant that so effortlessly framed his collarbone; in the same way those sunny locks of his hair did his eyes. It was the door to his sweet and everlasting gaze, to his soft and celestial smile.

On stage, there was an air of extravagance in the way he rummaged through his hair. The way he strummed long and taut fingers against the string of his guitar, a desperation in the twinkle of his eyes, and a mystery on his lips—a mystery you wished to solve with your lips against his, with your hands in that hair, and your grip fixed on his sparkling neck—he was the kind of boy that might inspire the statue David. Entice your aching soul, and make you want to sculpt his every curve in stainless marble. On stage, you swore he was like Apollo.

Off stage, you knew he was trouble.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

In your eyes, Choi Hyunsuk had always been kin with the sun.

Although now he stands before you in a cobalt gleam.

The yellowed hue of stage lights shines brightly onto the pale blue of his messy dress shirt, untucked and wrinkled. He sits alone on the cherry coloured wood, body coiled, and eyes glued to the scribbled pages of sheet music. It’s the way you see him wherever you turn; the way he seems to light up the darkness around him that makes you realize he looks so much more like the moon.

It’s then you understand the misconception, and it’s then you pull toward him; tidal waves to the empyrean sky.

You pull the camera hanging around your neck up toward your eyes, and feel the dampness of your palms against the pads of your fingers. The camera flashes when he looks up with an inquisitive glance, then he shoots you one of the those smiles. The kind that makes your knees weak. The kind that screams trouble.

“Like what you see?” He questions, eyebrows raised and gaze tender.

There is the soft rumble of jazz music droning somewhere in the distance, but it’s minute compared to the soft drawl of his voice, so much softer, and sweeter than you imagined.

You spare a glance at his beaming smile, then at the photograph on the dingy screen on of the camera. There’s a gasp in the back of your throat that yearns for release, and with a sharp cough from the chest, you ignore it. He is much more than alluring. Blonde hair that curls at the back of his neck, deep set eyes with chocolate coloured pupils. He is sweet like his voice, and he is much more than alluring. You look up from the photo and back to his eyes.

“No...” You ponder, scrunching your nose. “No, you’re blinking.”

His expression soon matches yours, and in a second, melts into another glorious smile.

“Guess you have to take a few more then, huh?”

The words are so simple, and yet, you can’t seem to shake the eruption of chills at the small of your back. His bottom lip is wedged between his teeth, and that’s when you give him a curt nod, turn your back, and walk away briskly, refusing to glance behind and absorb his bewildered expression.

“I’ll see you later?” He shouts after you, but you’re halfway out the auditorium door.

It’s when Choi Hyunsuk smiles. When his eyes are wide, and kind, in that mixture of confusion and amusement, that you understand he is neither the sun, or the moon.

He is much rather the cosmos.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I don’t trust him.”

Sitting on the campus coffee shop, you’re tossed between drinking the rest of your half melted iced caramel macchiato, and delving off into the serenity of the cafe’s decor. There are green potted plants at the base of every crystalline windowsill, and large-scale murals on the plane of every wall. You have half the mind to walk into one of those paintings. Kim Junkyu’s loud mouth brings you back.

“You.” He says vaguely before taking a swig of tea. “—don’t trust anybody.”

While you attempt to reply, there’s a knit in your forehead that tells you he might be right. You shoot him a concerned glance, then you bury your head in your hands.

“This piece is going to be awful.” You groan. But Junkyu takes it upon himself to flick you against the forehead, drawing your attention back to his stern expression.

“Listen, [Y/N]. Do you think I like spending my Friday nights watching sweaty Lee Byounggon play basketball? Let me answer that question for you: NO!”

The ferocity in his eyes makes your face twist in amusement, and you nod your head understandingly. Junkyu goes on.

“I do it because I like writing for the sport’s column. And you, are gonna be completely fine writing for Hyunsuk. He’s really not all that bad.”

You grimace. “But he’s such a flirt!”

“Being friendly never hurt anybody.” He argues, then he stifles a giggle. “Besides, I think you could learn a thing or two when it comes to flirting.”

“I will throw this hot tea at you, don’t test me!”

Junkyu playfully maneuvers his body away from you, though you simply roll your eyes in response. With a small jingle of the door, there’s an influx of bodies, and a strong gust of air that hugs tightly onto your skin. You’re still focused on using Junkyu’s tea as a weapon by the time his mouth parts in surprise. You don’t quite understand the mystified look in his eyes; that is, until you hear the gentle whisper of his name.

Suddenly, as if with the sweep of Spring air, he stands against the cafe’s greenery; against copious vines of growing plants and the plush expanses of verdant leaves—like walking art, Choi Hyunsuk seems to appear in a myriad of bustling colours.

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t take your breath away.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He is better than art in that you can feel him.

His presence, as if some force in the ether has a divine clutch on your body, is absolutely mesmeric. There are more goose bumps on your arms, calves, thighs than you could possibly count, and a hesitation in the back of your mind that coats your thoughts thickly. It’s a clouded sense of worry, but now your eyes are closing in on him, and only him. He is calling to you in open silence, and it’s a sensation unlike any other; you almost don’t notice the creeping hand of Kim Junkyu, which wraps around your arm, pulls you upward, and then forward, toward him.

“Good luck.” Junkyu whispers into your ear, voice airy from the lull of gentle winds, sodden with excitement.

“I don’t want to.” You’re hissing back at him, but it seems it’s too late. Hyunsuk looks toward you with a dip between his forehead, and he stands by the rows of sugar packets in a way that’s far too picturesque. He drowns in the splendor of a plain white t-shirt, like satin between your fingertips, and you turn away before the feelings linger. He looks to you once more, this time with a fervent wave.

“It’s you.” He says brightly, lips perched in a small smile.

He is unnervingly gentle, magnificently striking.

You nod. “Uh yeah, I guess it’s me.”

“You’re the one writing my piece for journalism, right? Is it [Y/N]?”

Your name from his lips sends your heart into full bloom, and you think Kim Junkyu might be the worst friend you’ve ever had. You want to stay calm and collected, but the longer your mouth parts, the faster you realize the words won’t come out. You nod numbly at his inquiry, and groan inwardly at your frailty. His smile grows wider.

“I read your piece about the 101 Things not to do at a Basketball Game the other day, and I couldn’t put it down. You’re an amazing writer.”

You pause.

Then your rampant heartbeat slows.

You almost grin.

“Oh, I didn’t write that piece.”

His smile falters.

If there was a hulk of chains strapped to your chest when Hyunsuk first walked in, those very chains feel like they’ve unraveled. Perhaps they’ve now claimed refuge on the withering boy in front of you, whose lips purse in confusion, whose cheeks burn a dusty rose. Choi Hyunsuk is a smooth talker to say the least, but now, he is bashful, and the playing field seems even.

“Trying to talk your way into a good review?” You ask playfully.

“Depends.” He bites his lower lip and squints eye. “What do you value more? Flattery or humility.”

You look to the iced coffee that sits on your abandoned table. Kim Junkyu stands not too far away, avidly staring at a drink menu despite having ordered moments ago. You calmly take the drink into your hand, twirl the straw in your cup, and flash him the most candid look you can muster.

“How about… honesty?”

For a moment, he is silent.

Then he looks to you with a subtle sense of curiosity. There’s a hand running slowly through his hair, and a wild glint in his eyes; you can feel the thumping in your chest return once again.

“Honestly.” He breathes. “I think you’re breathtaking.”

You know you should say something. You know more than anything that you should say something. But you’re not sure where this boy ends and begins, not sure what lies past his even-tempered veneer, still, not sure if you can trust him.

“I-I’m sorry. Was that too forward?” The hand is back in his hair, and this time, it’s erratic. “Can we just, uh, start over?”

“Hmm, I don’t know.” You tease. “That was quite the first impression.”

Sunlight shines through the cafe’s wide paneled windows and straight onto Choi Hyunsuk’s perturbed face. Now, he tilts his head and knits an eyebrow, still a blinding smile on his lips, but he’s less animated, more perplexed.

“Good or bad?”

You scrunch your nose. “I’ll sleep on it.”

“You?” He repeats. “Thinking of me before you go to sleep? Yeah... yeah I can work with that.”

Choi Hyunsuk is nodding his head when you turn around to face the cafe’s double door entry. There is a pool of emotion that fosters in the depths of your soul, and still, you think it’s best to leave it untouched, to dissipate. But you’re still thinking of him when you push past the door. Still when the crisp morning air latches onto your barren skin. Still when the bright morning sun offers you warmth and comfort. He is more charming than you imagined.

You realize Choi Hyunsuk’s artistry isn't the only thing you should stay weary of.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The first time you hear him play the guitar, you swear it’s the sweet sound of the lyre.

It echoes against the concrete walls of the music room, up to the high peaks of the ceilings, and back down again; cups at your ears and nestles in the cracks of your conscience.

It’s a sound you want to reach out and touch.

When he finishes, he looks to you for approval.

“You gonna play that at the showcase?” Your words come out in a breathy mumble, though you blame it on the rapid movement of his languid fingers, on the harmonious tune, on his rhythmic humming.

“Nah.” He says loosely. “Probably not.” He stands abruptly from his position on a music room chair, and places his guitar back onto its stand. “They like pop songs.”

“Who’s they?”

He shrugs. “The audience. I don’t usually play my own stuff.”

“Where’s the soul in that?”

It’s the way his face falls into itself that makes you think you’ve said the wrong thing, and suddenly, you feel a plummeting in the pits of your stomach; feels like your heart is sinking. An apology teeters at the tip of your tongue, but Hyunsuk looks back at you.

There is a tenderness in his face you’ve never seen. Sentiment.

You swear he’s never looked so beautiful.

“I guess...they don’t ever really wanna hear me, you know?”

You fight the urge to look at him with complete astonishment.

Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined a somber tone in Choi Hyunsuk’s speech. He is blinding rays of iridescent sunshine, toothy grins in boisterous hallways, jaunty cheers of joy and happiness—there is a complexity in his tone, vulnerability in his facade that now, more than ever, beckons for your attention.

You swear he’s never looked so beautiful. And he is far more hypnotizing when he tells the truth.

“I wanna hear you.” You reply bluntly, and your wonderment grows tenfold when you catch the uncertainty flashing through his eyes.

He grins down at his fingers, and when he looks up at you, he’s nodding his head.

“How about you let me take you out on a date?” He starts suddenly.

“How about you write me a song?”

His tongue darts out of his mouth to wet his pinkish lips, and then his eyes crinkle, along with the ghost of a small laugh. He nods his head again.

“You know, if you never give me a chance, you’ll never know what you’re missing. I could be the guy of your dreams.”

You spare Choi Hyunsuk a single glance, and it’s now that you acknowledge his close proximity. He sits across you, sparingly, on the music room’s wooden bench, with his eyes wandering. You catch his stare at your lips. You know that you should move, and yet, you find yourself looking deeper into his starry eyes.

“That’s what scares me.”

Choi Hyunsuk leans in to kiss you.

You rush out the music room door.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The only part of Lee Byounggon’s beach party that isn’t swarming with drunken teenagers is the downstairs balcony.

From the comfort of your stranded lawn chair, you can hear the remnants of Kim Seunghun’s beer pong game, and the shouts of your friend Park Jihoon, who has everyone convinced he can freestyle to Eminem’s ‘Rap God’. (You smile to yourself knowing that he can’t.)

The night sky, speckled with gleaming stars, cowers over the small area in a cool toned haze. You are sipping on the watery mixture of orange liqueur and soda in your cup when the clumsy body of a tipsy Choi Hyunsuk barrels through the balcony doors.

“You’re here!” He clamors, sliding into the chair next to you and lying roughly against the chair’s upward slope. You find yourself leaning into his embrace, his touch, his warmth; and the brush of his fingers against your bare back is almost sobering.

“Y-Yeah, I’m here.” It’s a stutter when you first speak, but you can’t bother putting in the effort. Speaking with Choi Hyunsuk makes you want to stutter and the ease alcohol procures strips you down to your true self; it feels better this way. Much, much better.

“Thinking hard?” His head clumps down onto your shoulder. Silken strands of his hair skim the sensitive skin on your shoulder, your arm is ridden with goose bumps, but you stay put. This time, not pulling away. Instead, you lower your head alongside his, and you wonder if he can feel your heartbeat pulsating in your temple.

“Not really.” Your reply is absent minded, and he releases a vibrant giggle.

“Where’s the soul in that?” He repeats mockingly, and now, you start giggling too. “Seriously, [Y/N]. What’s your story? You’re always searching for answers with me. It’s my turn.”

There’s a creeping sensation at the base of your neck. And you wonder how long he’s carried that thought, and how much longer it must’ve taken to muster the courage, and release it. Your mind is blank, and your body quivers, although the warmth he provides is mollifying. Your lips are more relaxed than you would’ve thought.

Your forehead pinches. “I don’t really have one.”

“Bullshit.”

You bite your lip.

“School... Family... Love.” He continues. “What’s your story?”

“Love.” You start shakily, whispering into the crown of his head. “Love is hard. I-It’s scary. Unreliable. I-I don’t like feeling that way.”

Through the falling strands of your hair, you can feel his gaze fixed up at you. You cannot meet his eyes; you’re staring straight up at the moon, still so bold and resilient. Qualities you wish you could mirror.

“I disagree.” He mumbles. A raw pitch in his voice that dries the moistness in your sweltering eyes. You look down.

“Yeah?”

“I-I think when you’ve found the right person, loving them is easy.”

It’s half past midnight when you push your hands onto Choi Hyunsuk’s broad chest, and half past your breaking point when you wrap yourself in his embrace, and press your lips vehemently against his.

It’s half past his grandest dream when Choi Hyunsuk closes the balcony door behind.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Choi Hyunsuk is most heavenly when his nose is bumping into yours, and his lips soothe over in batches of giggly kisses.

By now, you have your hands tangled in wavy locks of his messy hair, and your thumb is pressed firmly on the smooth curve of his jaw. It’s then that you cradle the cusp of his face and skim over the tan skin of his neck. He is kissing sloppily onto your lips, and then at your cheeks, and when you turn your face into the crook of his neck, he places more at the base of your exposed collarbone. You breathe deeply into his sultry skin, and it’s a mixture of fading ocean water, and the sweet smell of vanilla.

Weeks spent swearing Choi Hyunsuk is art reach their peak in this moment; because now, you know that he is.

When his lips lose their fervor, and his body clumps onto yours, together you travel to the neighbouring living room and lie instinctively on the couch.

Choi Hyunsuk is most heavenly when you’re falling asleep to the gentle thumping of his heartbeat.

You are most heavenly when you place sleepy kisses on his rounded cheeks.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

If sound had colour, you think Choi Hyunsuk’s morning voice is misty baby blue.

A sound that’s as soft as the sky at daybreak, and as wistful as the distant moon, barely visible in the nomadic sky. There is a rasp in the centre of his chest, and a soreness of the throat that seems to melt away with a few kisses. Radiant morning light spills into the disheveled room, like snowy milk into freshly brewed coffee, and you bask in the comfort it provides. Hyunsuk has an arm wrapped firmly around your waist, and another, perched tentatively at your blushing cheeks. He runs the back of his fingers over the patches of scarlet red, and as if to take the heat away from your face, murmurs into your fingers.

“Wish me luck tonight.”

Begrudgingly, he moves his body upward, and you, along with it. He broadens, as if to stand up and straighten his wrinkled clothing, prepare for the big day ahead, but with a sudden spur of your tightly woven heartstrings, you grasp tightly onto his wrist, and face him with glossy eyes.

“You won’t need it.” You say onto the warmth of his skin. A timid grin makes its way onto his lips, and you wonder how it tastes.

You pull him back onto the couch.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Choi Hyunsuk greets the stage with the blinding luminescence of his acoustic guitar.

There, under those sputtering stage lights, you recognize a new found fluidity in his presence; a sentiment in his eyes that is much deeper than the likes of his flawless exterior. It is the sheer rawness of his performance, the subtle melody of instruments, the deep lyrics of the soul, the voice of silver and gold; these things, amplified for the room to hear—not just to spectate, but to absorb.

On stage once more, there is an air of extravagance in the way he rummages through his hair, the way he strums long and taut fingers against the string of his guitar, a desperation in the twinkle of his eyes, and a mystery on his lips—a mystery you continually solve with your lips against his, with your hands in that hair, with your grip fixed on his sparkling neck—Choi Hyunsuk is the kind of boy that might inspire a change from within. Entice your aching soul, and make you want to become the version of yourself that lives in faraway lands, lives in glorious dreams. On stage, you swore he was like Apollo.

Off stage, you knew he was something deeper.

You greet Hyunsuk backstage, when his performance is long over, but the crowd still cheers in his radiant memory. You first wrap your arms tightly around his neck, then push his guitar to the side, and pull his face downward. For a moment, you simply stare. He is dreary eyed and heavy breathed and he’s looking at you with such fondness; you gulp in the back of your throat and blink away the tears.

“I’m guessing that was worthy of a good review?”

You smack his chest, and with a playful roll to the eyes, pull toward him at full speed; your lips hovering over his teasingly.

“Just kiss me, you moron.”

His lips meet yours in a kiss you’ve imagined a hundred times, and still, it knocks the wind out of your lungs. You lunge deeper. And deeper. And deeper; into him.

Over the time that you’ve known him, Hyunsuk had been the boy delved deep in his persona, overpowered by public pretense. But it is now that you understand Choi Hyunsuk has galaxies of emotion. Now that you understand, he may never have been the sun, nor the moon, but rather, someone that made you feel; made you learn. The touch of his lips against your cheek, the song of his soul mending the loosened strings of your heart; it’s now that you strike a divine realization in its own right;

Choi Hyunsuk’s love is cosmic.

And you love him to the moon and back.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

hello lovely angels, thank u for taking ur time out to read this!!!💖💖 i know it can be a bore to read at times, but i hope u enjoyed for the most part, because i genuinely loved writing it :’)) some of my fav imagery yet <33 as always, feedback is appreciated!!!! (pls///!)

#choi hyunsuk #treasure 13 #ygtb scenario #silverboysnet #ygtb #hyunsuk #treasure 13 scenario #yg #yg treasure box #hyunsuk scenario

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abysshall · 5 years ago

Photo

MICHAEL LANGDON ; PLOTTING POST

american horror story apocalypse

first of all this character comes with a few trigger warnings such as ‘ murder, satanism, apocalypse / end of the world themes & violence. ‘ whilst not all of my threads will involve those things, or any of them, i just wanna make sure anyone potentially affected by those themes knows how to block them from the dash!

by liking this post you are letting me know that you are interested in plotting with me sometime or want to interact somehow!

i have outlined a few plot ideas here and on my plotter page, but you are totally free to think of something you’d like! by liking this though, i may contact you via im or ask, send you memes or message you if we are mutuals on discord or twitter! it is essentially permission to plot, so that i know who is down for interactions !! :)

feel free to message me any time, for specific plots or topics to avoid, i’m pretty chill i promise ‘w’

GENERAL

michael is the son of satan, the anti-christ born into a world that is ripe for remaking. from childhood, he was surrounded by an usual and unnatural life, abandoned by his birth mother and father, thrown into the care of his grandmother before she too was unable to look after him. he was a difficult child, unaware that the brutal and violent acts he committed as a child were evil at all. as he grew older, he obviously realised he wasn’t quite right, but with his family being now made up entirely of ghosts who feared him, he had no-one to encourage him down a healthy path. he craved paternal affections and connections, seeking them out later in other people, but they never stayed for long. his relationship to satan is kind of messy. his dad doesn’t really communicate with him on what to do, or how to do it exactly, but is more akin to a presence/feeling than a physical ally. however, as of right now michael is still dedicated to bringing about his father’s wishes, unaware that he’s more of a pawn for the apocalypse to come about, than on equal parts with the devil. so generally he is emotionally messy, interested in human sins and lies, likes to meddle in things to cause drama, doesn’t mind a cheeky murder but is also still quite naive and lonely at heart.

FRIENDS

OTHER BADDIES ; so whilst michael might have had a rough start to his villain origin story, he’s still evil unfortunately. so generally anyone who has a darker personality, favours cruelty and pain over kindness, he’s gunna be more attracted to them than anyone else. it would be relatively easier for these people to meet him too than others, simply being darkness attracts darkness.

SATAN-CONNECTED PEOPLE ; whether your muse is a satan allegory, knew a version of satan personally or might even be another world’s anti-christ, wouldn’t it be fun to put them in the same space as michael :)

TROUBLE MAKERS / CHAOS-LOVERS ; they may not be the big bad villain, but they love starting some fires! he loves a bit of chaos, a bit of trouble. let’s make some people cry

POSSIBLY PARENTAL / KIND HEARTED PEOPLE ; so whilst generally his company would be more of the chaotic type, he still is emotionally quite vulnerable. he yearns for emotional connections that make him feel safe and secure, like that of a parent and son. if your muse is of that type, maybe we can work out something where their patience gets tested having to take on this burden of a creature.

MANIPULATORS ; whilst he himself is good at manipulating people, he’s also somewhat ready for the corruption. his heart is weak, so it might be easy to prey on his loneliness, for example. without powers, without the support back home, he’s essentially nobody with no-one to look out for him. take advantage of that.

ENEMIES

if the bible is your go-to moral compass then you’re a target for his cruelty, i’ll say that much. as he’s essentially the messiah of hell, there’s no doubt there would be tension between himself and any true believers in god. he’s the representation of sin, of pain and chaos, the bringer of the end of the world. you can guess what his plans might end up being here...

good-doers and nice people in general who want to remove evilness from the island :/

got a bone to pick with the devil? maybe your muse takes it out on this kid instead. he kind of represents satan when satan’s not there so, feel free to throw any devil related angst this way too!

witches. god damn witches. witches cause a few problems for him back home, killing people he has around him and generally trying to stop him. he doesn’t have a high opinion of them at all :/

if you bully him too hard without his powers he might cry ;w;

PLOTTING IDEAS AND OTHER INFORMATION CAN BE FOUND HERE

my rules ♱ my application ♱ my stats ♱ my twitter

#isola plotting call #long post /#i tried not to make it too long ahhh im sorry #———— ( out of character ; 𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬 ) ╳

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cartoonfangirl1218 · 5 years ago

Text

Home for the Holidays

“So what do you say?" Tomiko asked jumping up and down in her carriage seat as they headed toward the docks that would take her back to Satu in time for the holidays and for Isabel to remain in Avalor for the Navidad festivities. “I don’t know.” Isabel hedged, glancing out the window at all the colorful decorations and candles lighting the streets.

"Oh come on," Tomiko said waving her hand excitedly "You should totally go to the Avaloran Navidad dance."

“I told you, I’m excited to go back home for the holidays. But I’m not in the mood for any dances really.”

Tomiko stopped her excited squealing to approach Isabel on her bed, “Are you still bummed about Hiroto?”

Isabel grimaced at the memory of her ex boyfriend but managed to smile assuredly at Tomiko, “No. It’s been two months, I’m over it.”

It wasn’t like she was lying. She really was over Hiroto. After the mourning and heartbreak, she was able to see now that they weren’t good for each other. She had admired him for his intellectualism but they also had a constant competition over who was more smart.

Their dates were more like debates. The romance they shared had fizzled out and honestly, Isabel was happier now that she wasn’t constantly researching and writing new articles for scientific journals to prove to Hiroto that her ideas had merit.

She was fine without him. It’s just that...she did have someone to go to the Navidad dance with.

Not that she thought she needed a man to be complete but ever since she returned home from the University of Satu, she had felt out of place. Though she had stayed in touch with her friends like Quique, Amara and Cristina and knew what was happening in Avalor, it wasn’t the same. She didn’t know about day to day happenings, new people that arrived, people that had gone. It was like she was a stranger in her home.

Likewise, most people she interacted with hadn’t gone overbroad for college so they didn’t understand the fun she had in daily life in Satu, they didn’t get her references or the people she spoke of. And when it came to explaining her studies, blank stares all around.

At least if she had Hiroto, they could compare their worries over tests and talk about what their mutual friends were probably doing.

Though she was obligated to go to the Avaloran Navidad Ball tonight, she was simply going to make an appearance and then go back to her room and try not to stress about how uncomfortable she felt in her own home. Tomiko was urging her to stay the whole time but she didn’t want to subject herself to it.

The carriage stopped and both girls got out, hugging each other tightly. The subject of the Navidad Ball completely forgotten as they exchanged goodbyes and well wishes for each other’s families and seeing each other soon in the coming semester.

The ride back to the palace was uneventful as Isabel fell asleep, still stuck in Satu time. It was all she could to wake and then drag herself through the palace and sleep off her confused body clock.

It felt like only a matter of minutes when a harsh, urgent knocking interrupted her sleep. “Huh? What? Come in.” Isabel called, rubbing her eyes and straightening herself out.

Gabe poked his head in with a smile, “Hello Princess Isabel. Elena sent me to wake you up, you have an hour to get ready for the ball and you slept through Elena’s, Luisa’s and Esteban’s attempts to wake you up.”

“Whoops.” Isabel said with a sheepish grin, “The time differences really throw me for a loop. I’ll be ready.”

As she got up from her bed to search her closet, she muttered, “Let’s get this over with.”

She heard Gabe’s curious voice, “Are you not excited for the ball?” Isabel startled realizing that Gabe was still in the room and that he had heard her cranky comment. Though it made sense, he was a trained guard he had honed his reflexes to hear the slightest sound in case of ambush.

She looked at his face it wasn’t judging just curious and Isabel had to rub her eyes again. Though she had seen Gabe a few times since she returned, she still couldn’t believe how much more mature he looked, and if it was even possible...more handsome.

His face didn’t have the same young boyishness as a five o’clock shadow that only served to highlight his cheekbones and other facial muscles. His actual muscles were only accentuated with each taunt biceps straining against his tight, festive green red uniform. But what really served to show his maturity was the steady look of poise and capable that he exuded. Now here was a man who knew what he was doing.

Isabel had to admit when she was younger she had a silly childish crush on him, he had always been the nicest to her and willing to indulge in listening to her ramblings about her inventions. She was over it, but as her eyes couldn’t help but linger at the sight of her muscles she thought maybe her crush quite wasn’t over. At least she still had a healthy admiration for his kind nature and physique. In a purely platonic sense of course.

“Oh it’s just..” Isabel struggled to brush off her comment. Say she had a headache or something, but as she looked at him, she remembered how patient and encouraging he was to her when she was freaking about her college application to Satu, and how he encouraged Elena to accept her on their team when Ash was on the loose. He was always there for her to lend an ear and make her feel better.

“I don’t want to go because I feel like a fish out of water. Here, in my own home! There are events and things that have happened here that I don’t know about, inside jokes, and birthdays I have missed. I feel like a stranger and being around people just makes the feeling worse. Though I love going to Satu and going to college there, I wouldn’t trade the experience for the world, I just..I don’t like feeling this way.” Isabel confessed.

A weight lifted off her chest for a second and Isabel inwardly mused that saying all this outloud did make her feel a tiny bit better especially with Gabe listening so intently. He truly cared about what she was saying.

“That sucks you feel that way.” Gabe simply said and Isabel felt even more relief. While Elena was good at pep talks, Elena knew her sister would say that things would get better, it didn’t matter that she was here in day to day life but it is the big moments that counted and she would always be part of Avalor. But this was better, Gabe confirming how she felt sucked was good. It was nice just to hear someone else got why she was upset instead of immediately fixing it.

“You know, you don’t have to stay at the ball if you don’t want to, but think about it this way. You can be part of the party instead of missing the action. Make your own inside jokes with your friends, enjoy the festivities. Isn’t that what Navidad is sort of about. Feeling part of the whole community, not feeling like a fish out of water.”

Isabel nodded, understanding what he was saying. A part of her kind of liked the idea of making new inside jokes besides she had been longing for Navidad tamales all December when she was in school, she had been counting down the days till she returned so she could gather with her family by the tree to open presents. Yes, she wasn’t going to let some bouts of discomfort stop her from enjoying that again.

“Thanks Gabe.” Isabel smiled.

“No problems.” Gabe lightly squeezed her knee, “And if you ever feel out of place, come to me and we can talk about old times lke nothing ever changed. Hey, like, remember the time I turned into a block.”

Isabel giggled at the memory as Gabe walked to the door. “I’lll definately do that.”

“Also save me the first dance.” Gabe winked leaving Isabel very excited and right at home in Avalor once more.

#gababel #gabe nuñez #isabel castillo flores #elena of avalor #my fanfic #my fanfiction #home for the holidays

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yourheroserene · 5 years ago

Note

Polyship Hanayama/Baki/Kozue for number 7?

7. What do they get up to on a night out?

Because Kaoru has the hookup, he’s gonna be the one handling the car for the evening. So when it’s time to meet up, Kaoru rolls up at Baki/Kozue’s place in a nice car with a driver. But even before then, Baki and Kozue spend the early evening getting ready. Baki and Kozue shower together, something they like to do for times when they go out together. Kozue takes double time, cause she’s gotta do both her and Baki’s hair. Baki and Kozue will go out of their way to wear at least one nice thing that Kaoru has bought them. For Baki, it’s some silk socks, and for Kozue it’s her gold hair clip that rests on top of her ponytail, with a flower made of rhinestones standing up on top. You know, 90s bedazzle.

Kaoru knocks on the door and is let in by Mrs. Matsumoto, who lets him know the others are still getting ready, just as Baki and Kozue yell it across the house too. They’re both excited. Baki is ready first, since Kozue also does makeup, and doesn’t want the boys to see until the look is finished. Baki comes out to greet Kaoru, jumping on him, and grabbing his neck from behind in a youthful hug. Kaoru barely shifts, the pillar he is, but a small smile comes over his face as he looks back to greet Baki. Baki jokes around and chats up Kaoru for a little while, as Kozue finishes and comes out to join them.

She asks them what they think, and at first they both can’t see, since Baki jokingly took Kaoru’s glasses and put them on, rendering both his and Kaoru’s sight useless. Taking his glasses back, Kaoru sits at attention, giver her an up-and-down once over, sternly asking what she thinks of herself. Kozue blushes, as Baki is beside himself with admiration for her beauty.

Kozue, looking down shyly, says “Well, I think everything come together nicely. I’m really happy about the new skirt.”

“Then imagine that happiness tenfold, and that’s how I feel about your look tonight,” Kaoru smoothly responds. Kozue’s face lights up as she cups it with her hands, expecting that Kaoru always says something so over the top. She loves when it comes from his stoic demeanor.

“You’re the prettiest girl in the WORLD Kozue!!!” Baki interjects. He can’t hold it in, and he waited his turn! “Your hair and your skin and your makeup, all perfect! and I knew that shirt would go with the new skirt!” He’s nearly vibrating with his affection, and both he and Kozue mutually skip to each other, clasp hands and dip in to touch noses. Very cheesy romance stuff, and it’s touching.

Kaoru says it’s time to go, and they all head out to the car. Tonight is Dinner and movie, Baki’s turn for suggesting. Though Kozue limited the choice at one dinner, lol. Kaoru said he’s surprise them for the restaurant, and boy, was he right. Coming to a stop, Baki and Kozue get out first to see the place Kaoru picked, a fine French restaurant, boasting a gold-gilded 5-star sign above the name. Warm ambient light emanating from within, Baki and Kozue just look on in anticipating amazement. Kaoru, the mountain he is, gets out after to walk them in, recounting how his family ‘does business’ with the owner.

At the table, Baki is the first to have an issue, trying his hardest to make sense of the french dishes and ingredients, all written in the Latin alphabet. Squinting and grimacing for a while, all to the bemusement of Kaoru and Kozue, Baki finally throws his head back, leans back on is seat and exhales sharply that he can’t read the menu. With a chuckle, Kozue also admits though she knows some of the words, she’d rather Kaoru order for her so she knows it’ll be good. Baki then lunges forward into the menu once more, thinking he’ll somehow get it now, and strains to say every sound out.

“I visualized that I went to a bunch of French classes, took the tests, and got a license for French! I don’t get why it failed!” Baki sighed, defeated.

“You don’t get a license for French, idiot. But I’d have one if they made them,” said Kaoru.

Baki sticks out his tongue and sneers. “Well order for me then, Francois.”

After dinner, they decide to leave the car and walk the few blocks to the movie theater. Baki exaggeratedly kicks out his legs in a waddle, to show how full he is. Kaoru knows just how much can fill Baki up for a nice meal. Kozue muses with hands clasped to the side of her face, just how rich the lobster was, and how smoothly the sauce balanced savory and sweet flavors. She nearly drools, regardless of having just eaten, craving that 5-star dinner. Kaoru is proud of himself, and tries not to show it, but Baki and Kozue see the smug smirk and tip-toe up to him, each giving him a kiss on the cheek in appreciation.

They arrive at the theater, and go in circles about what genre of movie to see, Kozue eventually being voted out by Baki and Kaoru. They were going to see a Western. Yeehaw.

“But I thought you’s WANNA see the one about the mafia fighting the cops, Hanayama!” Kozue groans, slouching over where she stood. “bleeeeeeh”

“It’s not the same!” Kaoru sticks his pointer finger up. “The COPS are the heroes in that one. one of my subordinates saw it and warned me. I’m not about to watch some cop-loving snoozefest.”

“I’ve been really into dehydration training, so I’m trying to study up some pointer from cowboys. You KNOW they only drank like, once a week right?” Baki exclaims, settling the discussion on this entirely new brand of stupid.

“Why are you like this, Baki?” Kozue and Kaoru both think in a psychic meld. Both of them lay a hand on each of Baki’s shoulders. In another psychic, morosexual moment, they think “God, I love him” as Baki blinks passively.

Inside the theater, and at their isle, they go through their ritual of rock paper scissors to decide who sits in the middle. Baki with his demonic luck as won 5 times in a row. Make that 6. They go to take their seats, squeezing in close, and not just because Kaoru is a big guy. The film flies by, interwoven by whisper-giggles, held hands, and popcorn-passing.

As they leave the theater, the car comes back around to pick them up. On the ride home, Baki asks Kozue if she’ll be alright if he stays with Kaoru tonight.

“I’m a big girl, Baki. You literally live with me, so one night to myself is a great time to get ahead on my studies!” she winks. A dew gathers at Baki’s eyes, him feigning a puppy dog look at her.

“You mean you won’t miss me??”

“Nope. Not one bit.”

“hnnnn??” Baki gets up close to Kozue’s face. He puckers his lips together like a fish and cries, “But I’ll miss youuuu-” Kozue meets him with her lips, stunning Baki with their softness.

“Don’t be a dummy, babe,” Kozue meets his eyes, stroking his hair down and tucks some behind his ear. Baki sighs with blissful satisfaction and closes his eyes, looking like a cat in a ray of sun. The car has already stopped at the Matsumoto household, and as Kozue gets out, Kaoru grabs her hand, managing a kiss of his own on the back of it. Taking the opportunity of a seated Kaoru showing the top of his head, Kozue also strokes his hair, then down to his cheek, causing Kaoru to just slightly flush, hiding his gaze behind the reflection of his glasses.

“Goodnight, boys.”

“Same” says Kaoru.

“See you tomorrow!” yells Baki. Kozue heads inside, as Baki and Kaoru drive away, Baki yawning and laying his head on Kaoru’s lap for the ride back to his place.

#baki #baki the grappler #grappler baki #baki 2018 #netflix #polyshipping #kozue #kaoru hanayama #baki hanma #ship headcanon meme #my writing #yourheroserene #I'm loving these asks so much #I went so ham with this one #I'm so glad I got to just indulge for a while #I've been so busy with other #artistic committments

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yourkeeperoftherunners · 5 years ago

Text

Your Favorite? [1]

Plot: AU You’re part of the exchange program group from another country attending a Semester Abroad for university credit in Australia. The other students have been welcoming and friendly since you’ve arrived. You fell in with three students but two of them may like you more than just as a friend. So the big question they have for you is: who is your favorite Aussie?

Rating: PG (Light language, crushes, friendly competition)

Characters: University Student!Christopher (Bang Chan), University Student!Felix, University Student!Rosé, Foreign Exchange Student!Female Reader, plus mention of other members.

Notes: This was inspired by another event during the time I hosted Australian exchange students in high school. We all attended a party with the hosts and exchange students and a mutual friend of the girls I hosted tried to get me to say he was my favorite Aussie. (One of the girls I hosted, plus another exchange student shut him down quickly to save me from awkwardness, but it was funny.) In this story, I’m focusing only on the Aussie line from Stray Kids and BLACKPINK. (I know there’s two other idols who are from Australia but I’m not as familiar with them and I wanted to keep it focused on these three.)

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

“I need to study with you for the next exam,” Rosé sighed as she moved her bag higher on her shoulder.

You swiped her test from her hand and took a quick look. “The grade’s not that bad Rosie – it’s better than the class average!”

“But it’s still not as high as I wanted it!” she pouted. She puffed her cheeks out like a chipmunk and you laughed, before passing the test back.

“She’s storing nuts again,” a warm voice teased from behind.

Both of you turned to see it was Christopher, another student in your year, who was studying Music Production. Rosé scowled at the comment and nudged Christopher in the arm, which prompted him to fake being hurt.

“Y/N, she’s hurting me!” he whined.

Rosé shot him a look and gestured to his impressive biceps. “I didn’t elbow you that hard! Besides, you’ve got muscles.”

“Blame Han – he called you Chaemunk,” Chris whispered, pretending to nurse his arm.

“Come on you two, knock it off,” you said, shaking your head. “Can we talk about anything else that doesn’t involve Contemporary Literature?”

Christopher straightened up and came around to your other side. He tilted his head and shared that his roommate was hosting a party this weekend.

“Which one? Han or your exchange student roommate Changbin?” you asked.

“Han of course,” Christopher confirmed. “Binnie’s going to be there too, but he’s a bit shy.”

You raised a brow and Rosé explained that she heard the last party Chris was at got shut down by authorities. He held his hands up and insisted it wasn’t his party.

“Ladies, I was an attendee the last time!” he protested. “I make sure we respect the neighbors, don’t let the underage ones drink, and everyone is safe.”

“Sorry Chris, but Rosie and I already made plans,” you shared. “Plus I promised Lix I’d beat him in a round of Mario Party.”

“Lix? You mean Felix Lee?”

“Yeah I call him Lix sometimes,” you clarified. “Maybe we can grab lunch or coffee next week?”

“Oh um, course!” he said as you neared your dormitory. “Well, see you.”

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

“You’re moping because of Y/N, aren’t you?” Changbin asked him in Korean. He had taken a break from messing with a track he was composing and saw Chris was glumly looking through his phone.

“Huh? Um no, no! Binnie, I’m bored, that’s all!” Chris insisted. He tried to turn his phone off, but Changbin already noticed that Chris was scrolling through your Instagram.

“You’re Instagram-stalking her,” the roommate noted with an amused look. “Look, why not ask her on a real date?”

Chris put his phone face down and sighed. In theory, he should have pucked up the courage to tell you that he thought you were cool. You completely defied his expectations of someone from your home country and he liked spending time with you. The semester was starting to fly by and eventually, you’d be leaving Australia, possibly for good. But he hated the thought of putting himself out there, only to end in rejection and losing a good friend in the process.

Changbin took a seat next to the other male and folded his hands on the counter. He looked around the kitchen and sighed.

“I get...that you don’t want to scare her off,” he said, “but I think you’re going to hate yourself if you say nothing.” He looked over his shoulder at Chris and asked if you were coming to Han’s party.

Chris shook his head and revealed that you already made plans with Rosé and Felix this weekend. Changbin nodded to show he understood and tilted his head as he thought for a moment.

“Maybe next weekend or after class? If you’re worried, maybe do something lowkey, like coffee or ice cream?” he suggested.

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

“Buh bye Loser!” you taunted as you steered your character past Felix’s. You pressed your controls to make your car jump a bridge in the mini challenge, and whooped when it landed safely on the other side. Your car was moments away from the Finish line when Felix’s car landed behind yours.

You hunched your shoulders forward as you steered the car, trying to keep the gap between your car and his. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Felix poking his tongue out through his lips as he concentrated on the path to the Finish line.

You bit your lip as some boulders rolled across your path and you made swerving maneuvers and some jumps to avoid them. Felix hit one and groaned loudly as his car spun out of control, hitting another in the process. This gave you enough time to push forward and have your avatar cross the finish line.

“YES!” you cheered, throwing your controller down.

Felix huffed as he put his down a bit roughly on the couch, shaking his head. “That’s not fair!”

You whirled around and grinned, leaning over to rumple his hair. “Tough luck Lix – I said I wasn’t going easy on you.”

Felix managed to keep the pout on his face, chewing on his bottom lip slightly to hide how much he liked your fingers running through his hair. He knew the gesture was done in a friendly, almost sibling-like manner, but he wished you see that it was only a year gap between the both of you.

“Okay, what’s the punishment for losing?” he deadpanned.

You shook your head and told him that you weren’t putting him through a punishment. “You said we should hang and try to beat each other in games, so that’s what we did,” you reminded him, resuming your place on the couch. You smiled softly and thanked Felix for inviting you over. “I really needed to stop thinking about my classes and tests and do something mindless but fun. Thanks Felix.”

He softened his expression and nodded, allowing a brilliant smile to spread across his face.

“Of course,” he replied.

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

“You’re not paying for mine!”

Chris smirked as he slid in front of you and passed over money for your coffee and pastries to the cashier. “Too late.”

“I’ll pay you back,” you insisted as you grabbed your cup and plate with the choux bun.

He shook his head and declared it was his treat. You sighed, thanking him as you carried your things over to a table by the window. He followed with his cup and some napkins and forks.

He had taken Changbin’s advice and asked if you wanted to check out this trendy dessert cafe in town after both of you were done with class. It was lowkey and this way he could gauge your feelings for him before pouring his heart out to you.

“Classes going all right?” he asked as he sank into his seat.

You nodded as you put the choux bun in the center of the table, indicating that you could share it with him. He passed you a fork and some napkins, prompting you to take the first bite.

You stabbed your fork into the pastry and picked up some of the shell and the creme filling. He watched as you tried your bite, then flashed him a thumbs up.

“You should take Han here – this is really good!” you said.

“Maybe I will,” he mused before taking some of the pastry to try. “Everyone missed you at the party this weekend.”

“How crazy did it get?” you asked before taking a sip of your coffee.

Chris finished his bite and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Actually it wasn’t bad! We did offer a few drinks, but everyone knew to be respectful of the neighbors. Craziest thing that happened was Han had to kiss some girl because he lost at Suck and Blow.”

“Anyone he was interested in?” you asked.

Chris opened his mouth to reply, but was startled by someone tapping on the glass. You turned your head and smiled when you saw it was Felix, accompanied by his friend Minho. Both boys waved to you before entering the cafe and making their way to your table.

“Perfect timing!” Felix remarked as he wrapped his fingers around his messenger bag strap. “Minho was looking for you, Chris. Said he’s struggling with his Japanese homework.”

Minho nodded as he came up beside Felix and produced a test. “Sorry hyung, but I know this grade’s not good enough for my mom – I’m doing extra credit homework to make up for this. Can you help me now?”

Chris resisted the urge to sigh, silently wishing that the universe would just work in his favor for once. He plastered a small smile on his face and motioned for Minho to follow him to another area of the cafe. Felix mouthed a thank you to Chris, before asking if he could try the pastry.

“Ask Y/N – it’s hers really,” Chris said before guiding Minho to a quieter area.

Felix pointed to the plate and you told him to have some. He grinned as he sank in Christopher’s chair, putting his bag down on the ground. He reached out and broke off a piece, placing it in his mouth.

You pointed to the corner of his mouth, noticing he had some cream on the corner. He accepted a napkin from you and wiped it off.

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

Han

Y/N!! You missed my party. :( Sent 16:32 PM

Y/N

Sorry Han! Maybe next time? Sent 16:36 PM

Han

How about game night tonight? You, me, Chaemunk, Felix, Chris, Binnie, and Minho? Sent 16:38 PM

“May I get you ladies anything to drink?” Han asked after you and Rosé arrived.

“Water,” you both replied.

“That’s it?” Han asked with a pout.

“No drunken Truth or Dare,” you warned him. “I came to play games, not get so wasted that I can’t remember making out with someone.”

“We’re not drinking either!” Felix called out as he leaned to the side, trying to see who joined. Minho mimicked his movement, holding up a soda can.

“Hey, I’m not either!” Chris protested as he showed his water bottle.

“It’s just Han who wants to,” Changbin remarked with an amused smile.

Han shook his head and insisted that he’d forgo alcohol tonight too. “I only wanted to make the offer in case.” He pulled out two water bottles and passed them to you and Rosé.

You opened yours and took a sip, while Rosé asked where the restroom was. Changbin rose from his seat and pointed out the directions to the bathroom. She thanked him before excusing herself.

Han cracked open a soda and took a long sip from it. He sighed, putting the can down on the counter. “So Y/N, your semester here’s almost over,” he noted.

Your shoulders slumped and you sighed, glumly recapping your water bottle. You had tried not to think about it, since it meant you would be going back to your university and leaving all of your wonderful new friends behind. Sure there was social media where you could keep in touch and you could always try to save money to visit them, but it wasn’t the same. All of your little spots to visit with friends, the sights you’d see on your walks to campus or days off, they would be very different once your semester ended.

“Yeah I guess it’s coming up really soon,” you said. “I was having a good time that I didn’t realize it was almost over.”

Felix looked over at you and Chris threw Han a look for dampening the mood. Han shrugged as he took another sip from his can. A ghost of a smirk appeared on his lips as he asked, “So, out of everyone you’ve met...who’s your favorite person?”

You blinked at the question and looked around at all of the people in the room. Changbin spoke up and added that you shouldn’t count him in the possible list of people.

“I’m an exchange student too,” he reminded you. “I think this is more for the local students. So to rephrase Han’s question: who is your favorite Australian friend here?”

You uncapped your water bottle and took a sip from it, trying to delay your answer. It didn’t seem fair to pick just one of them – all of the people you met were wonderful in their own way.

“Well technically I’m not from Australia and Han isn’t either,” Minho added with a thoughtful look. “So, is Chris-hyung, Felix, or Rosé-noona your favorite?” He took a sip from his soda can and smirked, looking at Felix, then Chris.

You slowly swallowed the water you were drinking, not daring to look at either of the guys named. Picking one of them wasn’t going to be fair to the other and honestly, both of them were great. You liked Chris who was easy to talk to and a good listener. Felix had a warm, friendly personality and you always had fun with him.

“Um can I pass on the question out of courtesy to everyone?” you asked in a small voice.

The guys looked at you in confusion, then Han began talking, with Minho adding over him that you had to pick one. Changbin rolled his eyes and shook his head at Minho for starting trouble. Chris sighed as he tried to get Han’s attention.

“HEY!” Felix yelled. This made Han and Minho stop talking and everyone turned their attention to him. His eyes met yours and he leaned forward in his seat slightly.

“Y/N, we can handle this,” he said.

Chris nodded as he stepped forward, putting his water down as he walked closer. He flattened his palms on the counter and tilted his head. “We’re all adults here – no one’s gonna get their feelings hurt,” he reassured you.

You closed the water bottle again and looked from Chris to Felix again. For once, you wished you had said no to Han tonight. Sure both of the guys might be okay with you picking one person, but you knew one of them would be hurt if you showed favoritism toward the other.

“So honestly Love, is it me?” Chris asked with a sly grin.

You blinked and Felix rose from his seat, making his way to the same counter where the elder boy stood. He propped his elbows on the counter and rested his chin cutely between his hands.

“Sorry Chris, but I think I’m her favorite – you know with all of the fun games and excitement I have to offer in my room,” Felix chimed in. “She does love her Mario games.”

“Guys look, I –”

You felt someone wrap their arms around you and you turned to see it was Rosé, squishing you in a cute side hug. She flashed you her cutest smile and you couldn’t help but smile in turn.

“Sorry guys, but it’s me!” Rosé sang.

#Stray Kids Bang Chan #Stray Kids Felix #BLACKPINK Rosé #BLACKPINK AU #Skdz AU #Stray Kids AU #Stray Kids imagine #BLACKPINK imagine #Park Chaeyoung #Bang Chan #Lee Felix #Felix Lee #yourkeeperoftherunners original #number 2775

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