#I can’t draw him with pencil for some reason he looks so weird

[honeyconez]

guys hear me out would painis cupcake pay taxes? Because he’s not like mega insane like ass pancakes I think he’d pay his taxes in my professional opinion.

[bogginswritings]

Little Astarion blurb

Little Astarion x Tav. I haven't finished the game yet, like not even close, but I thought this was cute. I saw a couple of these prompt fly by on my tiktok fyp. I haven't written in a while, so Astarion might be a little OOC. Also, not proofread. fuck it we ball. I guess this has minor spoilers for the game?

Word count: 1000+ Summary: Astarion told Tav he doesn't remember what he looks like, Tav decides to help out.

It was his rare moment of vulnerability with me. One where I had to hold him, unable to comfort him with words. I could tell him it was okay, or that I could fix it, but the harsh reality was that I could not. Astarion knew that, I think it is why he accepted the hug. IT was the most I could offer and the best he could take.

It was in a random chest along the road I found it hidden; a sketchbook and a pencil. Some of the pages had been filled out already, drawings of animals and what not. Though there were enough empty ones left. I am far from the best artist around, but I am decent enough when I have a reference. And luckily, I had.

The lanterns around Astarion’s tent accentuated his face even more, the shadows casting over him. His features appeared even sharper. I sat by the campfire, a reasonable distance away. Thankfully, the vampire was rather focused on whatever book he was reading. He seemed to read something every single night, and I still had no clue what exactly, just that he was pretty invested in it. I was thankful for it now, though. He wasn’t exactly paying attention to his surroundings, so it didn’t look too weird when I was staring directly at him while scribbling away on the blank pages. It took me a while, wanting to make sure it was perfect, to get his features right.

When I was done and ready to show it, I suddenly doubted if it was worth it. Maybe it would look weird; you do not just draw your road companion. Right? I shrugged, to hell with it. Surely doing something with a good intention shouldn’t be a reason for him to suck me dry. Literally.

With a sigh I stood up, closing the book. I walked over to his tent, the toe of my boot nudging the pillows he was seated on. Astarion looked up, his red eyes meeting mine. Everytime I see them I wonder why it took me by surprise he is a vampire. He rested the book in his lap, an eyebrow raising, “Well, hello, darling. Is there a particularly good reason you’re interrupting a perfectly good read?”

I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes at his dramatics. Instead I flopped down on some pillows next to him, my legs crossing, “I think my mere presence is a good enough reason,” I retorted. To my amusement, I got “I can’t argue with you there” back. I let out a sigh, holding up the book, “I drew you something.”

His brows raised, an intrigued look etched onto his face, “Oh?”

I opened the book, quickly flipping through it to show it to him. He frowned as he examined the paper, taking the book from my hands, “Well, thank you for this perfectly good drawing of a goat?” He looked at me, “If this is your way of flirting with me, I have to admit you could do a lot better.”

“What?” I snatched the book from him. I had opened it on the wrong page, a drawing of a goat with some information from the previous owner drawn on it. “Shit-” I muttered, trying to quickly flip to the correct page. My calloused hands, however, had some trouble actually grabbing onto the correct page. It took some colorful curses and angry fingers, but soon I had the right page in front of me, a drawing of the man before me on it. I handed it back to Astarion, “That wasn’t- This is what I drew you.”

His hands took it again, his eyes widening as he skimmed over the page. I held my breath as he did. With this elf, any reaction was to be expected. He is not always the most predictable, to say the least. “You drew this?”

My eyes met his again, and I nodded as I slowly let out that breath, “Yeah.”

It was silent for a brief moment, though I felt like maybe time had stopped and it just started playing again. “Why?” he asked.

“You told me you haven’t seen what you look like in a long time. I don’t know- I guess I wanted to show you. I’m sorry if that’s weird- or creepy. I didn’t-” I was cut off, the breath pushed out of me as he lurched forward. My initial thought was that he definitely did think it was creepy and now came to fucking eat me, or something, but instead his arms wrapped around me. His embrace was cold, but it still warmed my cheeks and I could feel my heart increasing speed. I then realized my hands were stiff next to my body, and I decided to return the hug.

“Thank you,” his breath tickled my neck, “I forgot what I looked like, what others saw when they looked at me. You just gave that back to me.” With a sigh he pulled away, a grin on his face as he looked at the drawing, “I’m so beautiful, you must be horribly in love with me.”

I snorted and rolled my eyes, “Oh, totally. Simply irresistible.”

“Exactly what I thought,” he chuckled, “Oh, and darling, if this is your way of flirting with me, I’d be lying if I said it isn’t working.”

I could feel the flush return to my cheeks, I was sure he saw it, too. “Of course it does, I’m a treat. Prettier than you, even,” I retorted. His hand flew to his heart, “How you hurt me,” he said, “Now, if you will; you could use your rest, and I was getting to quite a cliffhanger before you decided to interrupt me,” he glanced at me, “Though for good reason.”

I smiled and was about to get up, before I felt a surge of confidence. I sat on my knees. One of my hands came under his chin, my fingers tilting it up as I leaned down to place a kiss on his cheek. “Goodnight, Astarion,” I whispered, before rising to my feet and walking to my bedroll. As I got comfortable in my sleeping bag, I saw Astarion caressing the drawing from the corner of my eye.

[pumpkin-cake]

Midnight Rain

(part three of ???)

-part one- -part two-

tyler galpin x gn!reader

summary - things go wrong at the Poe Cup !

tw - cursing, some violence

really minor spoilers for WEDNESDAY !

You woke up bright and early the next morning. The morning of the stupid event your stupid mother was stupidly making you do. Your eyes adjusted to the light in your room, and you forced yourself out of bed so you could get into your uniform to which you’d soon change out of into a very embarrassing cat costume. Why couldn’t you be apart of say, Xavier Thorpe’s group? They got to dress as cool scary clown-jester things. Oh wait. You HAD to be in Ophelia Hall.

Well, to be honest, it didn’t matter what you looked like, since you were gonna be changing anyway.

You got yourself ready for the day ahead of you, leaving your dorm to grab breakfast. All you heard was chatter about the Poe Cup. How Bianca was probably going to win again, and how annoyed they were over it. You ignored it, you heard talk like that all the time. Bianca was just crazy talented, and in your opinion others were just jealous. She was also dating a crazy attractive dude, so she had that going for her too.

You eventually found Bianca in the Quad, sitting next to Xavier who didn’t seem very interested in whatever she was saying. His pencil furiously scribbled across his paper, his brow furrowed in concentration. Bianca’s eyes met yours and she decided to ditch Xavier, who merely nodded in acknowledgement as she stood and went over to you.

“You ready for today?” She asked, the two of you heading to an empty table.

“As I’ll ever be.” You sighed, rubbing your temples.

“Your mom make you do it again?” She chuckled.

“Yup.” You muttered, taking a sip of your drink. The coffee at Nevermore wasn’t as good as the coffee at Weathervane. “Even gave me a whole plan.”

“You’ve got the principal on your team?” She scoffed a bit and crossed her arms. “Not fair.”

“You really think I’m gonna put in all my effort?” You snorted in reply. “I don’t care as much as my teammates about winning this stupid cup. It doesn’t matter that Mom came up with the plan if I don’t give a single shit about it.”

“Well, you have a point.” She agreed, resting her cheek against the palm of her hand and glancing over to Xavier, who was still drawing away.

“…alright, spill.” You hummed, finishing your coffee. “What did he do?”

“He just got all bitchy with me this morning.” She said with a frown. “Said something about trust? I dunno, I was too tired to comprehend a lot of it.” She tapped her nails on the table.

“You think it’s cuz you’re a siren?” You inquired. “If he’s talking weird about trust. Unless you did something that I don’t know about.”

“(Y/n), you know I’d tell you. Or he would, telling you to tell me like you’re some messenger pigeon.”

“I already told him I’m done being Hermes for him.” You chuckled. “Got tired of it last fight.”

“It wasn’t a fight!” She defended, almost pouting when you quizzically raised a brow. “Whatever, but I swear I didn’t do anything to prompt it.”

“Maybe his little white boy ego is insecure for whatever reason.” You suggested. “You’ve never used your powers on him before, have you?”

“(Y/n)! You know I’d never!”

“Exactly. Then I think this is a ��Xavier Thorpe can’t communicate’ case. Talk to him.” You shrugged, earning a sigh from Bianca.

“It’s not that easy.” She said, looking back to you. “If you were in a relationship, you’d know.”

“Uh huh. Well I am definitely not in a relationship.” You chuckled, finishing up your food. “Don’t plan to be.”

“Oh yeah?” She cocked an eyebrow, glancing to your phone on the table as it lit up. “Who’s Tyler?”

Your eyes followed her to the phone, to which a banner appeared on your lock screen, which was a message from Tyler.

“No one.” You said simply, taking your phone and putting it in your pocket.

“Oh no, now you gotta tell me.” Bianca demanded with a mischievous grin. “You talkin’ to someone?”

“He’s just the barista from Weathervane.”

“Why do you have just the barista from Weathervane’s number in your phone, hm?”

“He’s been tutoring me, I guess.”

“Just tutoring?”

“Bianca!”

“Okay okay, kidding, sorry. But seriously, the barista at Weathervane’s been tutoring you?” She questioned, sitting up as she was now fully interested.

“Yeah. That’s how I aced my homework assignment.” You chuckled.

“Isn’t he the sheriff’s son?”

You shrugged. “I dunno. Why?”

“Well, a dude named Tyler who works at Weathervane who is also the sheriff’s son destroyed Xavier’s mural in town along with some of his buddies.” Bianca said. “He was pretty upset about it.”

Weird.

Tyler doesn’t seem like the type who’d do something like that. He was so sweet to you, and always seemed more introverted. His dumb friends came into the coffee shop every once in a while, and Tyler always seemed so uncomfortable.

“Huh. I’ll mention it to him next time I see him.” You promised, before checking your watch. “We might wanna go get ready. It’s about that time.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🛶~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“O. M. G.”

Here we go.

“(Y/n), you look so cute!” Enid squealed after you exited the tent in your black cat costume. You really hadn’t wanted to do the nose and whiskers, but Yoko pretty much forced you down.

“Don’t push it, Enid.” You sighed.

“So! You mentioned not being in the boat! What’s your plan?” She asked, a huge grin on her face.

“You’ll see.” You waved your hand. “Good luck, Enid.”

“Oh- well okay! Kick some butt, (Y/n)!” She grinned, and you gave another half-assed wave of your hand before trudging to your spot in the woods that your mother told you to wait at. Sure enough she was right.

Kent was standing there pretty awkwardly, but with anticipation. He seemed antsy.

Bianca probably came up with this one.

You stayed hidden, about ready to pull out your hair when your mom started her big long speech. It reminded you of her lectures. Finally, the cue was given to begin. You waited patiently until Kent dove into the water, and you did the same along with the item you held. He didn’t seem to notice, watching as his legs molded into a long tail.

Within about five seconds, you looked exactly like him. You shuddered at the feeling of the tail. Yuck. You clutched the net you held, taking a deep breath before darting over.

Alerted by the noise of your swimming, Kent whipped around and his jaw dropped at a copy of himself zooming towards him with a net. You swam circles around him before diving down and catching him in the net. You smiled cutely and waved, smacking his head with your newfound tail. His eyes rolled back into his head and he began to sink.

That was sort of…exhilarating.

You remembered the task at hand and swam towards the surface, looking for the canoes. You caught Bianca’s gaze, who glared and you and beckoned you over and angrily gestured to the vampire boat.

Right, you were currently Kent.

You decided to play along as to not arouse suspicion. You darted underwater over to the boat, before placing your hands on the boat and shaking. There were yelps from the vampire as their boat began to rock back and forth. You gasped as a compartment in the bottom of the boat opened and a full spear shot out. You let out a yelp and dodged, but the spear fully took out a good chunk of your forearm. You shrieked and grit your teeth, trying not to lose focus and change back into your original self.

You shot up and grabbed the side of the boat and flat out pulled it over angrily, pretty pissed that you were losing a bunch of blood from your forearm. You punched a couple vampires in the face and darted off. By the time you caught up to everybody else, they had gotten to the island. A couple people were guarding the boats, and you waited patiently from afar.

You spotted Xavier and Rowan running back with their flag. They hurriedly got into the boat and their team began to row away. Bianca soon followed, and she shouted angrily at who she thought was Kent to get them. You rolled your eyes and swam after Xavier’s boat, doing the same thing you did with the first boat. You made sure to keep an eye out for traps, not wanting to get impaled or anything.

Just as you thought, some compartments opened and curved blades appeared. They were about eight of them protruding from the bottom, all in L shapes pointing to the edges of the boat. You grit yourself teeth and carefully swam to behind the boat in hopes to slow it down.

But you forgot about one crucial thing. Or one crucial person.

The resident telekinetic.

You felt an invisible force grab you by the throat and force you up out of the water. You let out a shout and gripped at your neck, obviously grabbing onto nothing.

“Uh-!” Rowan’s eyes were wide, like he didn’t know what to do next. He looked at Xavier in a panic.

“Knock him out or something!” Xavier yelled.

Your mind raced. You needed to come up with an idea and quick. You took a deep breath and started to shift into Rowan himself, hoping to scare him enough that he would drop you. Everyone in the boat was completely stunned, and Rowan let out a shout and quickly threw you back into the water. Your head collided with the side of the boat and then…

Everything went dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🌊~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you came to, you felt your head pounding. Your ears rang as you slowly opened your eyes, which one of them also felt sore as well. The light was bright. Too bright.

“(Y/n)! Oh my gosh, you’re alive!” A loud voice exclaimed, only making your head pound even more.

“Shh!” Someone else shushed, but you could hardly see the people in front of you because of how bright the light was.

“Wh…huh?” You said groggily, your eyes adjusting to the light. There in front of you was your entire team, back in their uniforms but still wearing the cat makeup. “Guys?”

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re okay!” Enid said, not listening to whoever had shushed her. “I had no clue that was you the whole time! Xavier Thorpe said your name or something or said something about you and then we all saw you in the water!”

Oh. Right. Rowan dropped you. You being unconscious must have reverted you back to your regular form.

“Did we lose?” You asked, and Enid smiled half-heartedly.

“Yeah. Only because we stopped to go get you.”

Your heart sank. They lost because of you. You were so careless and got hurt, and they all suffered.

“Oh. Okay.” You breathed out. You knew they’d all try to reassure you, but you weren’t going to believe them anyway so what was even the point?

Then, a light clearing of the throat got the attention of everyone. There stood your mother, an almost unreadable expression on her face. Your teammates got the idea, waved to you and left. Once they cleared, she sat at the edge of the bed.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Not great. My head feels awful.” You said honestly. “My eye kind of hurts too.”

Your eye pain wasn’t as prominent as your headache, but you didn’t think much of it as you reached up to rub it. Your mother tensed. You were confused for a split second and then you felt it. The skin didn’t feel as the rest of your body. It felt rough and uneven. It wasn’t some dry skin, either.

“Mom. Get me a mirror.” You said, feeling the rough bit of skin around your left eye. It was in a longer stripe going up and down the eye.

She sighed and fished around in her pocket and pulled out a compact mirror, handing it over and lightly putting her hand on your leg for comfort. You opened the mirror and held it up to reflect your face.

There was a scar running over your left eye. Gross and ragged skin in a line about half an inch thick and about five inches long.

“Mom…what the hell happened?” You breathed out shakily, reaching up and tenderly running two fingers along the scar.

“When Mr. Laslow dropped you off the side…you knocked your head and one of the blades sticking out from their boat…well, you can see.” She sighed. “You’re lucky your teammates pulled you out in time. You could have…drowned.” She said, her voice strained as if she were forcing them out.

“Oh my god.” You breathed out, shutting the mirror and tossing it on the bed. “And you made me do this stupid thing!”

Anger suddenly welled up inside you. You had never wanted to participate. You only agreed at first because Enid was sick, and it was unfair to her to risk losing like that. But because of your mom’s need to win, you suffered. You could have died.

“I never wanted to do this!” You shouted, relieved the infirmary was empty. You moved your leg away from her hand. “This is all your fault!”

She flinched, like she knew you were right, but she didn’t reply.

“Now I have this ugly scar and maybe even brain damage from almost drowning! I hope every time you see me you get reminded of what you did! Now get out!”

Your mother winced once more and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “I know that people your age says things they don’t mean.” She breathed out, standing. “I’ll let the nurse take care of you for now. I love you very much, dear.” She leaned down, planting a motherly kiss on the top of your head before walking out.

Well maybe you were a bit harsh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🏥~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After being looked at by the nurse for about a day, it was determined you were now suffering from mild hypoxia brain damage.

Basically, the restricted flow of oxygen being supplied to the brain had fucked up your head. Luckily, it wasn’t severe, and the nurse told you not to worry about any of the more intense side effects. She did warn you about headaches, disorientation, poor concentration, and difficulty coordinating balance. It also turns out you’d been out cold for a day when you first lost consciousness.

Great. More impairments for your grades.

The nurse let you go and you made a beeline for your room, angrily throwing the door open and shut. You sat on your bed and took some deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down and think things through. You knew your mom didn’t want anything terrible to happen to you, what you said just slipped out. You should be angry at Rowan, not her.

You were interrupted by your thoughts by a buzzing of your phone, that was oddly charging on your nightstand. You didn’t remember putting it there.

You took it off the charger and checked it. There were a lot of messages from your friends. Bianca had sent about fifty, Enid about fifty-five, and Xavier around ten. You decided you could catch up with them later. You see them like, every day.

What really caught your eye was Tyler’s name popping up. He only sent you about two messages.

Yesterday: Hey! Haven’t heard from you. Hope you won!

Today: I didn’t see you today. Everything alright?

Why did he bother texting you? You couldn’t believe he even remembered. Guess you were the star customer of Weathervane.

You quickly typed a response.

Yeah, just some injuries from the Cup. I should be back tomorrow.

You were very surprised at how fast he replied.

Oh no! I hope you’re feeling alright. Although, if you are coming tomorrow, I am off work.

Oh? That’s alright, I can just not come in.

No no no! I actually wanted to see if you wanted to grab a coffee and sit with me?

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.

HOLY SHIT.

Was he asking you on a date?

Like…a date?

Y’know, yeah. Like a date. I’d like to get to know you more aside from tutoring

If that’s okay, of course

Holy. Shit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~☕️~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tags 🏷 @justageek @peachycupotea @realmermaid333 @noahspector @mizzydr @gasolinesavages @elizabeth916

[solitaireships]

Makeup Help

So I think that Neuvillette wears makeup, and then I had the thought of him helping me do my makeup, specifically eyeliner bcs I have a weird thing about my eyes. Which now leads us to this fic lol

Rating: Gen

Genre: Fluff

Words: 1255 words

Divider by saradika

“Neuvi, could you help me out with my makeup?” Andromeda asks, looking over herself in the mirror. 

Neuvillette turns to look at her through the open doorway to his bedroom, part way through getting dressed for the day. Andromeda thinks that he looks handsome in just his shirt and pants, his hair not tied back with its usual ribbon yet, though she knows that he’d never be seen in public dressed down like this. It only makes him letting her see him like this all the sweeter of a view— it’s a sign of just how close they’ve gotten over the past month.

“What would you need me to help with? Your makeup always looks lovely,” he says.

“I’m good with lipstick and eyeshadow, but I can’t do eyeliner,” Andromeda says. “You’re good at that, though.”

Though Neuvillette is good at makeup in general. Andromeda knows that he prefers a subtle look, with a small bit of eyeshadow you can only notice if you’re close enough to him, but she also knows from some of his looks when the two have gone out on dates that he can do more than just that. His more dramatic looks might be reserved for special occasions, but they're nonetheless impressive.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you use eyeliner before,” Neuvillette notes as Andromeda steps out of the bathroom with an eyeliner pencil in hand.

“You haven’t because I’m not good at putting it on. My hand always gets too shaky,” she says. 

She doesn’t mention that the reason her hands get shaky is the pencil being so close to her eye terrifies her. She tried to teach herself how to properly do her eyeliner in the past, but every time she’d see someone else doing it she’d have to look away as the tip of the eyeliner got closer to the inner crease of the eye, flinching as if she were hit. The thought of anything even somewhat sharp being close to her eyes is a terrifying one, and she’s always too nervous about accidentally stabbing herself to be able to line anything up straight. 

Still, she wishes that she could put some eyeliner on. It’s always something she appreciates in other people’s makeup, and she wishes that she didn’t have to get so nervous that she can’t even make a straight line. And as much as it’s nerve wracking to think of anyone doing her eyeliner for her, she finds the thought of Neuvillette of all people doing it far more soothing.

“I don’t have much experience doing makeup for other people,” Neuvillette says.

Andromeda notes that’s not a no. “That’s okay. I’m sure it’d still come out better than anything that I could do.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“I would. You haven’t seen my past attempts at eyeliner.”

Neuvillette looks at Andromeda as she closes the distance between them, sitting down on the edge of his bed. He looks her over, as if assessing whether or not he could do what she’s asking. Then he says, “Is there a particular style you’d like?”

“Nothing fancy. Maybe just some simple stuff with a little bit of a wing?” Andromeda says. 

“I can do that,” Neuvillette replies.

He takes the eyeliner pencil from her hand, kneeling down to be at eye level with her. When he looks at her, Andromeda gets the feeling that he’s mapping out her face. It’s simultaneously odd and flattering to think of how he seems like he’s trying to memorize every detail, first imagining what he’s planning to do before he draws the eyeliner on. Andromeda’s never been the type of person who likes much attention, but capturing the attention of the Iudex like this feels uniquely special. 

“May I?” Neuvillette prompts, nodding towards her lap. 

“Oh, uh, yeah, sure,” she says. 

Neuvillette carefully lowers himself to sit on Andromeda’s lap, as if he’s worried he’ll be too much to fit properly on her. But for as much as he’s taller and heavier than she is, she can’t help but think they fit perfectly together with how his knees bracket either side of her hips. Him doing her makeup already felt intimate, but their increased proximity now only heightens that. 

“Sorry if I flinch or anything,” Andromeda says. “I… I don’t like pointy things by my eyes.”

“Ah. Well, I can promise you that I will be as careful as possible,” Neuvillette assures. 

“Thank you.”

Neuvillette starts with her right eye, drawing from the outer corner of her eye upwards in the shape of a wing. He keeps the pressure of the eyeliner pencil just strong enough to draw it on, but still his touch is gentle. He doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable, and that’s something that she can’t help but adore him even more for. 

Neuvillette is careful as he draws along her lash line, though Andromeda still tenses as he gets close to the inner corner of her eye. She trusts him, and she knows that he’d never do anything to hurt her, but still it’s intimidating having the tip of the pencil so close to her eyes.

“You’re doing wonderfully, my love,” Neuvillette says as if picking up on her nervousness. Andromeda supposes it would be hard for him to miss with how close they are right now. “It’ll be just a moment longer.”

“Okay,” she says as he moves to draw the wing along her other eye.

Andromeda tries to focus just on Neuvillette instead of the feeling of the eyeliner pencil along the edge of her eyelid. It’s hard for her to make out the fine details of his face without her glasses, but she can still see the focused look on his face by the set of his jaw and the furrowing of his eyebrows. She focuses on his hand on her cheek, and his stomach brushing against her as he draws himself closer to her. 

Andromeda thinks that she’s lucky. She doesn’t think there’s anyone else that could say that they’re in a relationship with a dragon sovereign, and even beyond that she can’t imagine being with a more gentle and caring partner. 

It’s nice having someone that she knows she can completely trust. It’s hard for Andromeda to let her guard down, and even though she knows she’s not completely doing that now as Neuvillette does her eyeliner, she still has enough faith in him to even ask him for help like this. 

Neuvillette lifts the pencil from Andromeda’s eye, looking her over. “You look lovely, mon coeur.”

“Only thanks to your help,” Andromeda says, reaching up to stroke his hair with one hand. 

“You’re beautiful with or without makeup,” he states. He presses a quick kiss to her forehead as he gets up, bracing himself with one hand on her shoulder. “If you don’t like how it looks, though, just let me know. I can do it differently if you’d like me too.”

Andromeda gets up, taking the eyeliner pencil back from Neuvillette. “Okay. I’m sure it looks great, though.”

Her hand brushes against his as she makes her way back into the bathroom, taking a look at herself in the mirror. Neuvillette did well— it’s a subtle look, but still she likes the way the wings show off her eyes. She calls another thanks towards him as she takes her eyeshadow palette from the drawer. She has a little more work to do getting ready for the day, but she’s glad to have a little help with things from her boyfriend.

[allyendergirl]

Just saw a TikTok about the time in the Justice League show Superman got that weird “makes you experience your greatest wish in a dream” plant on his chest and it focused about Kal’s relationship with his fake son Van, and now I need to hc about it.

Here is the vid ⬇️

Clark picks up drawing a few months after the incident because he can’t get Van out of his mind, and it hurts to only have memories of this dream son. So over the course of a year whenever he can, Clark practices realism and semi realism portraits with Van as his muse. Decides that semi realism is better because technically Van was never real in the first place.

He has hundreds, maybe even thousands of drawings of Van, even makes portraits of them sitting together in their kryptonian garb. He draws Van’s first steps, he draws the first time he held Van in his arms from his pov, and all the other memories he can remember and think of with Van.

Eventually the art therapy that he’s been inadvertently working through starts to work. Through art he sees Van live again, through art he makes Van real, through art he gets to experience memories with his son, even if those memories are from a short time, or are even all together made up for an original scene. He begins to let go because he has all he needs of his son now. The last portrait Clark thinks he’ll make of Van is sometime after Clark starts taking responsibility for Kon. He draws himself, Lois, Kon, and Van together as a family, Van being older than Kon. An adult.

It isn’t until Jon is born that he starts thinking about Van a lot more. It starts off with holding Jon for the first time, and the memory of holding Van flashes before his eyes when Jon reaches out for his finger. The scene that Clark created of Van’s first steps hangs over Clark when he watches Jon’s first steps, so on and so forth. It bubbles over when playing outside with Jon, Clark keeps seeing flashes of Van in Jon. He has go inside and take over making dinner so Lois can watch Jon because it’s too much for him. So Clark picks his pencils back up and starts drawing again, it takes about a month to get fully back into his style, but draws and he draw and he draws. He draws Jon and Van playing together as kids, he draws them together with Van being his real age and playing with Jon, he superimposes Van into some of his memories of Jon. He feels guilty about that, so he doesn’t do it often.

But one day his secrets gets out to the boys. Lois knows partially what Clark draws about. She only see what Clark shows her, which isn’t a lot, but he has told her what he draws about, he’s told her about his experience… “meeting” Van. But the boys don’t know about that. So when Kon pages through a sketch book Clark left out on the table and sees and family portrait he never posed for with an added member to the family he’s never seen in his life, he has questions. Reasonable, innocent questions. Jon quickly comes over to look at what Kon found and has similar questions.

“Dad, who’s that?” Jon asks.

Clark is confused for a second by what his son means until he turns around and his stomach drops. There at the table Kon and Jon are looking at a big family portrait he’d just finished, rather puzzledly. It had his mother and father, Ma and Pa, Lois and Clark, Jon and Kon, and of course Van. Van’s standing behind Clark but in front of his mother and father to his right. Lois is sitting next to him with Ma and Pa standing behind them off to his left. Kon and Jon sit at Clark’s and Lois’s feet.

“This is really cool, who drew this?” Kon tries, since Clark has still yet to answer Jon. Clark is still panicking.

“Um, I drew that,” Clark manages to blubber out.

“Wow dad, I didn’t know you could draw like that. But who is that?” Jon points at Van. “Is he another kryptonian relative? Why haven’t you mentioned him?”

“Um, because he… we’ll never technically existed.” Clark says with a sorrow in his eyes.

The boys look at each other and go quiet. Clark sighs and sits down, taking the portrait into his hands and looking at it. He still needs to set the picture so it doesn’t smudge.

“Back when the Justice League was still newer and there were only its founding members. We had a run in with Darkside. He used this, plant creature thing to incapacitate me, and a few other members of the League. This creature, when it gets a hold of you, makes you go into a dream like state and experience the life you always wanted, a life that you could only dream about. Mine was to have a family on Krypton. I had a son in that dream, his name was Van-El. And I loved him very much. Just as much as I love you two. I had memories of raising him, when I first held him, when he first flew, taking him to school, having holiday dinners with all of my kryptonian relatives. It all felt so real, to me it was real. And then Batman was able to get the creature off me and it all came to an end. I felt like I had lost everything all over again, but it wasn’t until after we defeated Darkside that I even realized I felt that way. That I realized that I had lost my son. And it truly felt like that. I felt the exact same way when Kon died. I promised myself I would never forget him. And so I took up drawing, portraiture and scenes from everyday life. It served as therapy. Through art I could live through moments with Van that I would never have, and I could “relive” the moments I remember with him. I thought I drew my last portrait with him a little after I took Kon under my wing. It was a portrait with me Kon and Van. Van was an adult, maybe five years older than Kon. But after Jon was born, I just saw so much of Van in him. And it hurt, so I took up drawing again when he was around 4 and haven’t stopped since. Over the years I have refound my peace with Van-El never having existed, but I still like to draw him, especially with my real family.” Clark looks up from the portrait and smiles sadly and lovingly at his two boys.

Jon looks moved to tears and dives to hug his father tightly. Lois comes up behind him and places a hand on his shoulder, leaning to place a kiss on his head. Kon walks around them and peels Clark’s hand away from Jon to squeeze tightly.

“That must’ve been so hard,” Jon coos in his shoulder. Clark himself starts to tear up.

“It was, but I got through it. And I have two beautiful boys that I can see and talk to and hold everyday, which is something I would never trade away for any other life.”

“Glad to hear it,” Kon smiles, Clark manages to smile back. Jon squeezes him hard one last time and straightens up to wipe his tears, sniffling.

“Can we see your other drawings of him?”

Clark smiles, “I’ll have to unbox them from storage at the Fortress, and there’s a lot of them. But sure, you can start with this one though,” Clark hands over his sketchbook to Jon and Kon squeezes Clark’s hand one more time before sitting next to Jon to peruse the book.

[myloveforjiminnnnnnn]

A Taste Of Home.

Flashback:

Jimin’s pov:

It was the last day of high school, I was finally graduating, I want to leave this sick place as soon as possible, especially these imbeciles.

See I’ve always been the popular guy, I host parties, play soccer, and I even play basketball, I’m also a rich kid, but the thing is, I was never planning on going to college to be a famous soccer player like I told all my friends, and never will.

I wanna be a famous chef, the kind of chef you have to pay millions, or thousands just to have a bite, the kind where you melt as soon as you taste my food, I’ve been cooking ever since I was 9. And god do I love it.

It’s like my own twisted sick passion that I can’t get enough of, I would cook for my friends but I pretend to act dumb since I’ve realized exactly why, that would be a dumb idea.

The only two people who know are Taehyung, and Jungkook. Mostly because we’ve been friends since we were babies and also because we all wanna be chefs, we plan on heading to Seoul to peruse our dreams and all, as soon as this school day ends. And it couldn’t hurry up and just end.

I was tapping my pencil, since today was the last day, and since we had graduation. For some reason I was watching this girl, I didn’t know who she was or what she planned on doing when she was older, I leaned a bit, not to far up, and saw her name tag, “Kim, Y/n” hm. Who the hell is this?

She had siren cat eyes, and she had delicate hands, ones I imagined myself as the perfect hands to cook with, her hands were very steady, and thin. Her hair was down, curled, and she had a pencil in her hand, drawing the waves of an ocean?

*Beep*

Time to leave this hell hole.

End of flashback:

Y/n pov:

It had been almost 4 years since I’ve been back to Busan after college, I was a full time model for Calvin and Klein, and a painter on the side, I painted nude models, I liked seeing them nervous. That’s weird I know. I’ve also did some acting here and there, in hit tv shows. Barely any movies.

My mom, and dad have been asking me since last month if I could come back down to Busan, I was now in Seoul, and one I just couldn’t stand going back to that hell hole, two I just didn’t have the courage to.

But I made my manager cancel all of my plans for two weeks, because I was finally going back. There’s nothing wrong with going back for the holidays… right? My brother Hoseok promised he’d tag along too (he’s my half brother, we’re related through our mom) Hoseok had made it in life as rapper, he was very rich, even though he had a net worth of 50 million I had a net worth of 82 million. I could tell it bothered him, but it never really affected anything.

Hoseok, usually goes by hobi, so I’m gonna call him that, hobi was wearing the CRINGIEST sweater ever, he got in the car annoyed as always as I sped off on my way to Busan.

“What’s wrong with you now?” I said, trying to contain the laughter fading to come out if I looked at his angry face once more. “Mom’s making me wear this stupid sweater! Hey?! Where’s yours!” He said angrily.

“Calm down weirdo, I’m wearing a long sleeve white shirt right now, the sweater is in the backseat.” I said chuckling, he grumbled, making sure I wasn’t lying, checking for himself.

He finally got outve his mood, and we started dancing and bumping to music, and singing, and talking.

“Hey? Y’know that Park Jimin dude?” He said, with a questionable grin, I look at him a bit confused and speak, “don’t think so” hobi’s grin grows wider. “We went to school with him! He was in your math class”

It finally clicked, I speak with a jumpy tone “I know him! He used to seem like he couldn’t wait to leave the school” hobi laughed, “looks like he’s back in town too.” I shrug but I hit the brakes while we were in the middle of nowhere when hobi spoke an again, “with Jin”. “JIN? LIKE MY COUSIN JIN?” You said with a shaky breath.

Wasn’t Jin staying with us too!? Mom didn’t tell me they were bringing a friend.

“Well, this is gonna be awkward” Hobi states quietly, you start driving again. “How? He’s just a cook, he’s not nearly as famous as us.” You nudge his arm.

“He crushed on you for 2 years after he saw you on the last day of high school.” Hobi said almost above a whisper. “HE WHAT?!” Hobi jumped a bit when I said that, sorry… “I mean, when I went to college, Jin and jimin were roommates. And Jin said he couldn’t stop talking about you.”

You start driving steadily again. I mean he was hot, but I’m sure he’s matured by now, and it was just a young adult crush… right? “Hobi it wouldn’t have been awkward until you told me!” You scold him.

“I’m sorry! I just had to get that off my chest.. I’ve been holding that in for 2 years… you know I can’t keep secrets.” He says in a sorry tone.

“Whatever, he’s just a chef. Nothing special.” Hobi scoffs. “Yes there is. He’s got millions of women chasing him, sending him letters, and you’re not worried we’re all gonna be in the SAME house?!” Hobi says, you look at him, side eyeing him, as you guys finally reach the city of Busan.

“Well, I’m not worried, if you aren’t worried.” I said trying to let him know nothing is going to happen. Hobi rolls his eyes, “y/n, you’re literally a fashion icon, not to mention. People would die to meet you to. I don’t see how, BUT! I just worry that you two will fall in love”

You look at him, I would never! Is he crazy?! “Hobi, what?” You werent even caring anymore, you just wanted to get to the unusually big home, yall grew up in as kids. “What I’m really saying is, you are not in the best position to be trying to fall in love, I mean, mom and dad still want you two together.”

By you two, he meant Suga. Or should I say Yoongi, there was nothing wrong with Yoongi. He was funny, cute, sweet, and, seductive. The problem was, he didn’t want kids… and of course i respected his decisions… by breaking up with him duh… he also didn’t respect boundaries. He also didn’t care about you, because you saw through his facade.

“Hobi, I’m not gonna do anything” hobi chuckled at me, “just don’t get pregnant” “HOBI” “ow, ow, I’m sorry you win okay!”

We finally got to the house.

Hobi looked at me confused, “where’s your sweater” he said, a bit with attitude. “I’m not putting it on duce face” I said, arguing back. “I will tell mom you threw it out the window on the way down here.” I gasp at his words. “YOU WOULDNT!” He nods, I grab the sweater, “can we at least just take them off and make sure jimin isn’t here” he rolls his eyes, and takes his sweater off, revealing his tight black shirt muscles hid beneath.

“Someone’s getting fit.” I nudged him as our boots crunched in the snow, he laughed. And nudged me back, “someone’s got a modeling body” I laughed at his words, “just trying to catch up to my sister” I laughed again at what he said.

You two entered the house, “MOM?” Jin instead came running up to me, hugging me and twirling me in the air. “I said mom!” I giggled in the air, he put me down, “how’s the little Calvin Klein model doing?!” He asked, “okay.” He nodded and moved onto hobi, “HOWS MY FAVORITE RAPPER?!” Jin said loudly, obviously proud of hobi, hobi whispered, “you make things so awkward man”

Jimin came behind Jin, muscular than he was in high school, hotter, fairer, and a chef. “If it isn’t the Ms.Kim herself.. nice to meet you, I’m jimin.” He gave me a warm smile, it was cute and nice. “Nice to meet you too, jimin, is it?” He nodded at your question and went to my brother, Jin was still praising him, I laughed and walked to the living room.

It’d been years since you stood in front of that very fireplace. You walk a bit more, and the doors to your old art studio stood in front of you, opened, your mother was always proud of your work, she always scolded you for not being a full time artist, you always giggled at her.

Paintings from 5-7 years ago stood in that very room, some of them finished, some of them still unfinished. You sat down in your chair, that had wheels and spun around. And the big window you used to paint until you reached perfection. The view of the river, a few miles out.

You look at the skylights, and everything around you. It amazed you how much you used to paint, your father walks in the room with a cup of coffee greyed, still fit, he only gained a little weight, his oily skin, but it was from his ‘skincare routine’ “I see you’re looking at the paintings.”

You nod, smiling at him, god… time has passed, “dad, how are you.” You smile and walk up and hug him. And he hugs you back, “honey, I’ve been great. I’ve been missing my step son, and my real daughter though.” He said chuckling. “So, why’d you let Jin’s friend stay” you ask confused.

He chuckled, “the boy is an amazing cook, and plus, we both know you’re old man, and you’re dumb nut brother aren’t gonna help you and you’re mother cook this year, and we wanted to keep it small this year… you could’ve brought a friend too…” he shrugged off what he just said you shake your head and smiled.

“Well I’m gonna settle in” he nodded and we both walked out. I reach the stairs in front of my room and I see jimin, talking to someone on the phone, “Jeon Jungkook! You do NOT mess that dinner up, and you tell TAEHYUNG he has to cook the steaks MEDIUM WELL. You guys know nothing when I’m not there! I’m on vacation for once! Don’t fuck this up for me!” He says in a low enough angry voice before taking a deep breath.

I pretend I didn’t hear that, I walk to my room passing him. He tilted his head at me. “Hey y/n”. I mentally cursed myself before I turned around, “yes?” I said anxiously, thank god I lied a lot to my parents. There was no way he could see how anxious I was.

“Where exactly is the bathroom.” I shake my head, you might wanna go to the one downstairs, between Jin and hobi, there’s no hope for that bathroom.” I smile before turning away and walking to my room and he notices the bathroom by my door, inside my room.

“Do you mind if I just use yours?” I turn around cursing myself again. “Sure? Why not” he smiled, and walked past me to go pee, sigh before I turned on my fireplace and my tv, I sat down on my bed and I felt tension in my neck I slowly rolled my neck and then I head a voice.

“Need help?” He smiled at me. Gosh, not right now, I liked rewarding myself for getting the tension out my neck. I couldn’t resist… “sure…”

He sat on my bed, and the bed sank, he started working on my neck, damn he was good, oh my god, he started kneeing into it, and my neck finally released the tension, I let him know it was out.

“Thanks” I said with a half smile before turning my night light off. Jimin nodded, and walked back to the door to leave. But he turned around to say something to you. “Do you care if I just use your restroom to get ready and everything?? I promise I’ll be quiet” I nodded. Dammit y/n, it’s NO!

He smiled and spoke again, “I’ll just let you know, I take a shower at 5 am, try not to use the restroom during 5? Hm?” He smiled, I nodded again. Barely listening. What was his deal on using MY bathroom. Bullshit.

I woke up at 5 am, damn, what the hell is that noise?! The shower is running? Who the hell is in my shower?! Oh no… did someone break in?

(This is how slow you are when you first wake up)

Just as you were about to open the door realization hit, and you hurried up and jumped back in bed when you heard the door open a few minutes later, you barley opened one eye, you know, the kind nobody could notice?!

I looked at the person, secretively, they were only in a towel, and it sounded like that husky, manly, light hearted voice. Jimin.

“Aishhh, I forgot my clothes.” He has the towel wrapped around his waist,

He looked at me and tilted his head, the clock was ticking on my digital alarm clock, “how is she still that beautiful??” He said examining my face.

That made you cringe BADLY. You wanted cover your face up and laugh hysterically, but you were, ‘asleep’.

He held his hand to his chin, still smiling, “should I remove my clothes” no! No! No! God don’t do that, you wanted to say aloud, did he know you were awake. “Oh, y/nnnnnnn” he said loudly, but softly. “I know you’re awake”

You still didn’t budge, he grunted and looked at the clock. “That coffee maker is too fancy… I don’t know how to work it please wake up… I can’t survive without coffee” he shook you.

God, this man. “I’m up” you said grumpily, you jumped at the sight of his abs, and his v line, god, was he perfect. “Oh sorry, here, let me dress, and I need you to show me how to work the coffee maker.” He said softly, and forcefully sat me up.

I sat up scratching my head, in the silky floral, tank top, with lace at the top and the silky shorts to match. “Ughhhh” you groaned, he was rolling his sweater sleeve up, with the turtle neck, it was red, and he had a silver Rolex on, with black glasses, and black dress pants on, with black dress shoes.

“That’s no Christmas spirit” he said, smiling, with a laugh. “Couldn’t you have asked hobi?” I said, still grumpy. “He refused to get up and said you drink tea every morning.” He shrugged.

“Jimin, that has nothing to do with coffee” he shrugged, “close enough.”

He waited for me to get up, I groaned and put my slippers on, my white socks, I opened my door walking past him, he smelt like strong cologne.

We walked down the stairs to the kitchen, the newly renovated kitchen.

“Do your parents renovate their kitchen every 4 years?” He asked, I snapped my head to him while I grabbed a mug. “How’d you know?”

He chuckles, “my parents do the same. And I can tell.” He smiles, I give him a half smile and start his coffee while I balance myself on the counter still sleepy, the sun hadn’t even risen, and I was still sleepy.

“So when did you start modeling.” You look at him a little weird, “how’d you know that?” I asked confused. “You’re on billboards.” He said, reassuring. You did a little sigh.

“I don’t know, just one day i hired a manager, and started modeling, and some acting.” He nodded at you, his coffee was ready, he sipped it and smiled.

“Thanks” he smiled, you were about to leave but he said something. “So you’re a painter? Right?” He smiled. You knew he meant your old art studio, and if he asked you to paint him, you would have to explain you only do nude paintings now… and you still haven’t confessed to your parents about that.

“Yeah, that’s just old work though” you scratched your head, he smiled again, before he sipped his coffee again, and he spoke, after taking a sip. “What kind of work do you do now?”

You almost choked at that, was he interrogating you? Does he know? What was his purpose in knowing? “Just… you know… art.” He tilted his head, and narrowed his eyes.

“That’s it?” He asked, “yeah.” You said a bit nervously, he shook his head, “what do you like to paint.” He asked instead… “people” you asked, that was it. Please don’t ask me anything else.

“That’s pretty cool… you should paint me one time” you calmly pressed your lips together… “so here’s the thing…” he sat his mug on the counter and waited, “I only do nude work” his eyes widened a bit, and he stumbled a bit, after balancing himself from the counter he was leaning on.

“Oh! Well, I don’t mind” he replied, fuck, I do not need to paint some naked chef at all. “Y/n, me, hobi, and Jin, planned on getting in some last minute Christmas shopping, like wrapping paper, cards, etc.” he paused and spoke again, “care to join along?” He asked calmly, you replied——

“Sure, why not.” He smiled and nodded, you saw the sun rising, I better go wake hobi up you thought to yourself. “I’m gonna go wake up hobi.” He nodded. I smiled, and ran up the stairs. You barged in Hobi’s room.

You took the covers off and he was in his blue pajamas, silk of course, you shook him furiously forcing him to get up.

“YAH! What are you doing demon!!!” He questioned, loudly, “Forcing you to WAKE UP!” You yelled! “Ow! Ow! I’m up!” He yelled as you pinched him. “Wanna tell me one good reason why I shouldn’t suffocate you right now! FOR TELLING JIMIN TO WAKE ME UP FOR COFFEE!” You whisper yelled the last part.

“Because you love me?” He said with a sense of hope, you groaned and got off of him, “it’s like six-thirty am, I’m not getting up” he said grumpily. “Hobi I will choke you” you said, he sat up quickly with a grunt.

“Come on and get ready, we’re going walking” you said angrily. Hobi looked at you, and said, “there’s no way you’re my younger sister, you’re too BOSSY!” “Yah!” You chased him around with a slipper around his room until Jin walked in.

“Will you two stop it?!” Jin groaned rubbing his puffy eyes, Jimin walked in turning the light on. “What happens in the span of five minutes?” He looked at the bed sheets on the ground, one of my slippers across the room, and the pillow on the dresser hanging on the tv.

“You don’t wanna know.” Hobi said catching his breath. “I heard something about a walk?” Jin said, “so you were listening” I said annoyed. He shrugged, “can we tag along” you rubbed the back of your neck, “see, it’s kindve a sibli-.”

Hobi hit your back, “yeah of course, but bring boots?” They both smiled and left at Hobi’s comment, “why would you do that?” Hobi groaned, “because, Jin is like an annoying kid, and won’t leave you alone until you do. No point in saying no.” He groaned and pushed you out.

I scoffed, whatever, you walk over to your room, and get dressed, black leggings, boots, white socks, grey sweater, brown jacket, and a black and white bucket hat. You come outve your room to see jimin wearing the same clothes except with a long black jacket, and black glasses. The same as yours.

I walk down the stairs and jimin walked behind me, he’s gonna be cold, just one jacket? Weirdo. Hobi and Jin were waiting for us, “yah! What took you two so long?”, Jin said, you glared, and Hobi scoffed at us. Whatever. Jin and Hobi end up walking in front of us. Leaving us two.

I enjoy the fresh winter smell, our boots crunching in the snow, the garden around us, covered in snow, the pond, barely frozen over. God do I miss this. “This is nice.” Jimin said, your head snapped towards his, you didn’t realized he kept up with your slow pace, I thought he already left me.

“Yeah” you said with a bit of smile, you keep walking, and he speaks again, “Y/n, can I ask you something?” He asks me. Here we fucking go. Gosh, what now.

“Hm?” You answer, “why didn’t you just become a full time painter?” You tilted your head. “Well, i couldn’t answer that with full honesty… cause im never honest with myself about it” you shrug. He shooks his head, “I just don’t get it, modeling and acting over painting? You’d rather have cameras flashing everywhere you go? Instead of painting a peaceful river?”

You shrugged, why did he care anyway. “Yeah? So?” You replied. He stopped us both. “What I mean is you’d rather be called, ‘the venom to the industry’ ‘the villain of Korea’ ‘the ace’, and model for Calvin and Klein, Tommy Hilfiger, and Chanel? Than paint a river? The moon?” He said.

You crossed your arms, “I do what I do for the same reasons you cook, why does it matter to you?” You ask. “So you like this?” You nod. “It’s my life jimin. This is life, reality. And nothing will change that.” You said. He sighed, and we started walking again.

we kept walking silently, until we reached Jin and Hobi, Jin saw the angry look on your face. “Yah! Hobi, me and y/n are gonna take left, yall take right, let’s all meet at the fountain.” Hobi nods and shrugs. We continue walking. “Whats with the look” Jin asked.

“Jimin was asking me questions why I’m a model, and why I act, and why I didn’t paint” Jin laughs. “Not funny.” You said grumpy. “Maybe because he was obsessed with you for a while, maybe he wanted you to be that artist, so he wouldn’t have to worry about the public eye wanting you.” Jin said. “Oddly specific” you replied back.

“Wait? How’d you know I knew he used to be obsessed with me?” You asked. “Hobi told me. Boy can’t hold water” we both laugh. And suddenly we run into jimin and hobi. “Can we go shopping now?” Jimin asked complaining. Jin chuckles and nods and we head to the house.

Once we get inside we’re all just kindve standing there, waiting for Jin to get his scarf. “So jimin your a chef?” Hobi asked. “Yeah.” Jimin replied. “Is your food like… amazing?” I hit hobi in his arm, jimin laughed, “yes some would say yes.” He smiled.

Jin came downstairs, “everyone ready” “omg, literally yes” I replied, and we all headed out walking, hobi went to the car, “I don’t wanna walk!” Hobi complained, “don’t be a wuss” I replied, he glared, and catched up to us. “The store is literally down the street” I said he shrugged.

We got in the store and I separated from them, looking by myself, I saw an ornament with angel wings and decided to buy it for our grandmother, I bought some last minute cards to.

I look over and see a pastry, they had croissants and a lot of pastries, plus it was right across the street. And Jimin was nowhere to be found. And Hobi and Jin were in their own world.

I paid for my things and hurried to the pastry shop, and it was beautiful, a woman, from France was in there, she had paintings, and flowers hanged everywhere, wooden floors, and the glass that protected the pastry’s, had flowers painted on it.

I asked her for a chocolate croissant, she nodded and gave me 3??! “Oh no ma’am! I meant one!”

She smiled at me, “don’t worry about it dear. I’m fixing to close shop for the day, and for the rest of the month to head back to France, for Christmas” she smiled, “anything else? It’s on the house? How about a hot chocolate?” I nodded quickly and she fixed me a cup. I smiled back.

I suddenly look behind me to see jimin smiling at a table. What was he doing here. I ignored him and walked out the pastry shop. “Wait Y/n-.” The pastry shop woman looked confused.

“Y/n, why aren’t you eating in there?” I shrug, “idk… do you want me to?” He nodded quickly. And pulled me back inside. His cheeks and nose red from the cold… so cute.

TO BE CONTINUED!!!

[spaceyspaceygirl]

“Would you like a sketch?”

I look at the display. There were various beautiful, intricate sketches. There were smiling faces of men and women, flowers and other objects. It was very beautiful.

With a small smile, I politely reject his offer.

“You are a very talented artist. All the sketches are amazing”

“Thank you ms.. I can make you a sketch. If you’re willing to pay for 30 dollars”

I smile. How can I refuse his offer not because I can’t afford it. The reason was something deeper. Something ugly. Something that I have been aware of but never once believe in it. What will be my reason to refuse this artist’s sale. For some unknown reason, my feet stay rooted in front of the artist’s booth, admiring all his works. I am well aware that I can leave. But I just couldn’t.

“It’s okay. I think it’s not my thing”

“I know my price is a bit pricey. But I can assure you it’s worth every penny”

Money is not the issue. I thought.

I was silent for a long moment, busy with my thoughts. I know I am holding up this man business, but he just patiently waiting for me while he readied with his sketch paper and a pencil.

“I can draw other than faces. If you don’t prefer your face drawn, you can ask for anything”

His voice brought me back to reality. I blinked. I saw him looking at me quite intently, as if he was able to hear my thoughts. My loud loud thoughts.

“I… I am not sure. I want to purchase a drawing from you. But I don’t know what to ask to sketch.”

“Your facial then”

I panicked as I saw him starting to draw lines.

“No. Not my appearance or my face, please. Anything but that” I said in a rush while waving my hands as if to stop him from drawing my face.

He quirked an eyebrow. Only then I noticed that he has a pair of thick handsome eyebrows.

I blushed.

“Why not miss?”

Sandpaper was all I tasted at that moment. I licked my lips and swallowed. It tasted bitter. I stared at the artist. Deep down, I want him to know. To seek some kind of comfort and assurance. But he was a stranger. He was no one and telling my ugliness to someone would be weird and embarrassing.

“It’s intimate” I say instead. Mentally self-palming myself.

“What is?” The man had a confused look. I thought it was cute.

“I don’t want you to sketch my facial as i think it is an intimate gesture. I want my sketched face to be from someone who sees me. Who knows me the good and the bad me. Someone who accepts all the ugliness of me, my flawed self. If I want my face to be sketched, i would want it from someone who loves the flawed me, not by paying a few dollars. This is why I think sketches are intimate”

The man had stared at me. Longer than I would have liked. I mentally face palming myself a second time.

Without a word, the artist started his drawing. And i just stood there, mortified as I speak things I shouldn’t. All because that one insecurity. But nevertheless, it was all from the bottom of my heart. The problem was, I have no clue why I said that.

The man think i’m crazy. I thought. I should leave.

As when my feet was about to move. The artist spoke.

“Wait a bit. I am drawing you something.”

“But I said I don’t want my face to be drawn”

“I am not drawing your face. Didn’t you hear what I said? I can draw other stuff than faces”

I stayed silent. Cheeks flushed.

“What are you drawing me?”

“You’ll see.”

“Do I need to pay?”

He gave me a smile. I thought his smile was pretty. He didn’t answer, instead he continue with his drawing.

I waited until he finished his drawing. After what seems like 20 minutes, he showed me the drawing.

A rose. It was a simple rose. But it was the most beautiful rose I have ever seen.

“Why a rose?”

He just shrugged one shoulder.

“It’s the next common thing people asked me to draw. Since you’re unsure of what you want, and you’re a lady, a rose seems fitting”

I chuckled from his somewhat silly answer.

“So you give me a rose because i’m a lady?” I said with a smile.

He offered a small smile

“don’t girls like flowers? and you don’t need to pay for it.”

I was about to argue but he cuts me off.

“I hope you find your person. Someone who loves you, I mean. So, you can have a sketch of your face for you to see”

He said all these while he looked me in the eyes. I stared back, unable to speak. He is very handsome.

With a small smile “Thank you very much for the rose. It is very beautiful. I like it”

He nodded once and offered me a small polite smile. “Good day Ms. See you around”

I smiled and walked away while clutching the rose sketch close to my chest.

[kurt-wagner-official]

Post #68: NM issues 32-34

This issue opens with a flashback to the explosion that seemingly killed Xuân. She was pulled from Berto by the currents, and he had to give up his search for her to save the drowning Sam. In the present, all of Berto's guilt for failing to save people is coming crashing back down. Steve Leialoha, who's inked a few issues of Uncanny and pencilled Annual 8, is the penciller for this arc, and while nobody can compare to Sienkiewicz in my eyes, he does a great job selling the atmosphere of the flashback sequence, and draws very evocative facial expressions throughout the issue. The key to my heart for a New Mutants artist is how they draw Warlock. I don't want them to replicate Sienkiewicz's Warlock, because it's such a unique style that would feel out of place in another penciller's art and more importantly because it would be boring if every artist had the same take. But a good vision of Warlock is I think indictive of the kind of weird creativity that I think is essential for a New Mutants artist. Leialoha's Warlock feels more corporeal and cartoony, with a lot of personality in his face and some really creative transformations, which is a good take in my mind. The team gets on a plane headed for Madripoor. Madripoor is actually making its first appearance in this issue, and it'll go on to be one of the franchise's most iconic locations. It's an island that's vaguely in the Pacific Ocean and is basically run by the criminal underworld. It's a good way to tell over the top crime stories without being incredibly insulting to an existing country. Expo dump reveals that the New Mutants interrogated Xuân's uncle, the crime boss that she was supposed to work for for a year to repay him for his health. Xuân has actually been manipulating him and then pinned the Gladiators on him, but he gave the New Mutants a lead on her possible location. While the team goes to attack her secret base, Dani tells Doug to stay behind with Warlock. She says it's in case they need backup and/or tech support, which isn't unreasonable, but from Doug's perspective he's being benched again. The others tend to assume he's useless in combat because his powers don't have combat applications (until like 30 years from now when he discovers them) which means he never gets a chance to prove that assumption wrong. They barely even let him train in the Danger Room, usually making him work the controls, even though Dani and Xuân also can't use their powers against Danger Room robots. If he had more field training it might have saved his life later in the series. Anyway, the rest of the team battles an army of mutant minions. I'm not sure when it happened and I didn't mention it, but Dani's new codename is Mirage. I think it's better than Psyche, which was kinda generic for someone with pretty unique psy powers. I barely even register the codenames of these characters because for my own consistency reasons I exclusively stick to their real names. And not even that sometimes; I always call Roberto Berto, which is one of his nicknames, but they just as frequently call him Bobby or Roberto. It just works better in my brain to pick one thing and stick to it. Okay, back to the plot for real this time, Xuân possesses Sam, Berto, Rahne, and Amara, but Illyana natural defenses protect her, and she ports herself and Dani to Limbo. They gather a bunch of demons and return, but Xuân's already killed all her guards with her new slaves and skedaddled, calling the cops to pin it on Dani and Illyana. They know Xuân has a second evil lair in Cairo, so they try to port there, back accidentally go way in the past to ancient Egypt. They're met with Ashake, an ancestor of Ororo who looks exactly like her. She's a sorcerer, and had a vision of their arrival and their friendship with her descendant. Illyana doesn't have the control to send them back to the present, but Ashake is able to send them back magically. It's a pretty random little plotline that ties into a few other hints Claremont has dropped about Ororo having innate magical prowess. But he never ends up going farther than hints with that storyline, and later writers haven't really shown interest in picking it up. Ashake also overshoots, sending them a few decades after their time, where they see their friends sadistically hunting down and killing civilians in the streets. Illyana ports them again and they finally reach the present, but Dani is ready to give up. She was the one who led the team to this fate, and she's afraid there's no way to save them. Almost this exact situation happened in the first Hellions arc, and the fact that it's happening again makes the corruption of the team feel inevitable to Dani. Just when all hope seems lost, the present day Ororo arrives with Warlock, who's immune to Xuân's power and found Ororo in Cairo. Ororo says that the odds are against them, but they can't give up, and Dani and Illyana find a new courage and faith.

Xuân is chilling in her evil lair, a dance club, with her new slaves, now joined by Doug, having fun torturing random people. Our heroes arrive and attack. Through their psy-link, Dani is able to free Rahne, but they're forced to retreat again. Before they do, though, Dani conjures Xuân's greatest fear, Xavier, a hint at the true identity of who's possessing her. Xuân sends her New Mutants after them, and this time gets the upper hand when Illyana seems to betray her friends. She ports Dani back to Xuân, letting her possess her and through her Dani, and then strands Warlock in Limbo. Warlock is having a very confusing day; first his friends betrayed him, and then the ones who didn't told him they still had to avoid hurting Xuân's slaves. And then when he's stuck in Limbo, S'ym shows him the corpse of Limbo!Peter and tells him how Illyana rules and evil dimension. Illyana goes back and captures Ororo, delivering her to Xuân, who calls her Darkchilde and welcomes her as a partner rather than slave. Illyana has a plan, which is still unknown to the readers, but she may never get to use it when she returns to Limbo and Warlock attacks her.

Warlock is determined to destroy Illyana so he can return to Earth and save all his "oncefriends" from Xuân. She tells him she wants to save them too and refuses to fight back, and he can't bring himself to hurt her. He collapses to the ground and calls himself a coward, wishing he could die, which he does a lot. But Illyana gives him a coach speech that gets him to pick himself up. Illyana scries on Xuân, who's taunting Ororo with the knowledge of her true identity, which Ororo knows and has met before. Through vague magic, she's able to follow Ororo's memory to timeshift to that first meeting. It's a scene we saw a long time ago in Uncanny, when Ororo was a little girl and a pickpocket in Cairo. A young Xavier is visiting Cairo and runs into Amahl Farouk and kills him in a psychic duel. But Illyana realizes that his astral form survived and is possessing Xuân. They come up with a plan; Warlock disguises himself as Illyana and goes to Xuân!Farouk. They know he was planning on betraying Illyana and trying to enslave her, but Warlock's mental defenses are even better, and by the time Farouk realizes his mistake Illyana has teleported the others to Limbo and back, breaking the hold over them. Farouk tries to escape by jumping into Doug's body and hiding, but Illyana smokes him out by stabbing with her soulsword, which Doug knows couldn't hurt him but causes Farouk to freak out. Xuân challenges Farouk to an astral battle as Xavier did long ago, and bolstered by her friends, she forces him to flee back into the astral plane. Xuân feels broken and terrified that Farouk will return someday, and wants to lay down and die, but the New Mutants give one of their famous "don't lay down and die" speeches, convincing her not to give up on life. Damaged but whole, Ororo tells the team she's taking them on vacation.

I enjoyed this arc a lot. I do think it would have been better if they hadn't drawn out the possession mystery for as long as they did. But when they do reveal the villain's identity it's an amazing twist, and I do really love Farouk as a villain. Issue 32 was the first one of the series to feature the whole classic team lineup, if you include Xuân's interactions as the villain. It's the most lead characters that Claremont has had in a book at once so far, and there's some slight balancing issues. Berto starts off the story as angry as he's ever been, both at Xavier and himself, and there's not really a payoff. Obviously his arc isn't over, and those issues with come up again, but there won't be another chance to explore that in the context of him dealing with Xuân being evil. I like the way Ororo was included; there was a danger that she'd take over as the protagonist, but instead she mostly sticks to the mentor role, which is how the X-Men should be used in this series. The thing with her ancestor was kinda a weird inclusion though. It's also great to see the kids saving an X-Man, which really reflects how much they're growing as heroes. The Illyana/Dani team-up in 32 was fine, and a good parallel to the Hellions arc, but what I really loved was the Illyana/Warlock duo. It's not a duo that gets a lot of focus in the series as a whole, but their interactions are always gold, because they're both such interesting characters and such incredibly weird people. They also represent the great sci-fi/fantasy fusion that makes New Mutants stories stand out from other 80s books. My biggest complaint about this arc is the number of "I'm just gonna give up and die" "no don't do that" "okay you're right" conversations. I counted at least 3, and they're not badly written, but it kinda gets old. There's other ways to make a character rediscover their will to live. I also don't like how Xuân's obesity is first used as a symbol of Farouk's evil and then as a symbol for how he ruined her life. It's a lazy visual crutch, even more so considering Claremont has written lots of stories about possession trauma and made them very interesting without gimmicky lasting effects. Luckily, Claremont writes that element out very quickly after this issue. I enjoyed Leialoha's art, and I'm a little sad that he'll never be back on the book, but there's some other good artists coming up. The characters don't realize it, but this is the finale of their first era before the Asgard Wars and Trial of Magneto turn the status quo upside down. The team is finally together just in time for everything to change again.

[skvatnavle]

Pleasure is pain

Matt Murdock x tattoo artist!reader

Notes: This spawned from a conversation between me, @a-reader-and-a-writer and @babblydrabbly at 4 am (for me, anyways) where I suddenly thirsted over being tattooed (it can really be a sensual experience, this is the hill I die on). So, yeah... Had to put it to writing. And Matty became my victim.

Warnings: SMUT! Some religious content (it's Matt, it's given), tattooing, slight pain, mutual pining, virginity kink if you squint?, Matty being slightly submissive, fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex, fluff.

Words: 2216

“Come on, Matty!” you whine playfully, hoping that maybe this time he’ll say yes. He never does, though, but you keep trying.

He just smiles, shaking his head, before looking towards you.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I can’t.”

He takes a sip of his beer, gently licking a drop of beer away, as you protest why he can’t. He’s a grown man, so who’s stopping him?

“Because the bible says so. Leviticus 19:28 says, “Do not lacerate your bodies for the dead, and do not tattoo yourselves.”

At that, both you and Foggy laugh. Matt has always been weird about religion. Obeying one rule, then giving a damn about another. And you can’t believe he actually threw a bible quote at you on a Friday night at Josie’s.

“So you’re gonna listen to some bull a bunch of people made up thousands of years ago?” you ask again, not backing down so easily. Foggy is smirking beside you, liking how you push Matt.

Matt just shakes his head at the two of you, before emptying his beer.

You continue to give him reasons for getting a tattoo and why he should definitely let you do it. Finally, you lean in closer.

“You should do it. Chicks love tattoos”

“Yeah, like he needs help in that department” Foggy huffs, a touch of envy in his voice. You shoot him a look.

“You’re not helping”

At that, Matt grins softly, before turning towards you, putting on his lawyer face. Oh boy, about to litigate, you think as you hold back a grin.

“It’s… It’s just that” he tries softly, searching for the words, trying to find a way you would understand. “I would be damaging the vessel God gave me.”

He shrugs, waiting for your reaction. You look towards Foggy, and you both burst out laughing. Matt just smiles softly, knowing you guys probably think he’s odd, knowing your stand on religion.

“Fine… I’ll let it go, I promise” you say softly, as you put your arm around Matt.

“A new tattoo?”

You hear the door open, but don’t look up. Too focused on the drawing in front of you, lost in the lines.

Matt’s voice pulls you back to reality and you smile, putting down your pencil. As always, you pass the drawing to him. Somehow, Matt has this uncanny talent of knowing what you’re drawing. Well, almost. But sometimes you could swear he’s not completely blind.

Matt puts his fingers to the paper, gently letting them dance over the drawing. Whether it’s the small indents left by the pen or just some sixth sense, you don’t know, but he almost always guesses right.

“A cross?” he asks softly, looking towards you, questioning.

“Yeah, I…I couldn’t really let the thought go of you getting a tattoo, so I had to draw it. Sorry.”

He sits down next to you, a gentle smile on his face, gesturing towards the paper.

“Tell me about it”

You look at his face, your reflection in his glasses. You swallow a lump, before looking down again at your finished piece.

“I made a stone cross, the surface cracked. Wrapped around it is a rosary, black and white beads. And the words ‘Et Nomine Patris et Filli et Spiritus Sancti”

Matt looks at your face as the perfect Latin leaves your lips. Apparently after years of knowing each other, you can still surprise him.

“You speak Latin?”

“Yeah, Sunday school.”

Matt frowns, the question hanging in the air. You’ve never hidden the fact that religion wasn’t your thing.

“Why do you think I hate religion?” you counter softly, before putting the drawing back into your folder, full of drawings that will never be on skin. You sigh, before looking back at Matt.

“Okay”

“Okay what?” you ask softly, turning to him.

“I’ll let you tattoo me”

Half an hour later, you’ve talked him through it all. The sounds, the vibrations, the pain. You sit in front of him, the workstation and colours ready, with the stencil in hand. Ready to apply it to his chest, but you pause, looking up at him, wanting a final confirmation before you begin.

“Do you trust me?”

The words weigh heavily in the air. Not only referring to the fact that he’s about to get a tattoo he’ll never know the design of, but you’re about to, as he puts it, damage the vessel God gave him.

“I trust you” he says, his breath already strained in anticipation.

You gently put the stencil on his skin, gently rubbing it to make the outline stick. When you look up at Matt, he is smirking slightly.

“Just be honest. You only wanted to give me a tattoo, so you could rub my body”

At that moment, you’re glad Matt is blind, so he can’t see the deep blush creeping up your cheeks. He’s always been able to affect you so easily it’s almost scary.

“Fine, you caught me” you laugh softly, peeling the paper away, leaving behind a purple outline of the tattoo on his skin.

The tattoo gun ready in your hand, you look into Matt’s eyes, biting your bottom lip.

“So Matty… Are you ready for me to get your tattoo virginity?”

The question may seem innocent, but your thoughts are far from pure. The words laced with hidden desire, you swallow hard, looking at your hand on his chest, before looking into his eyes.

Matt looks at you, suddenly nervous. Not because of the tattoo, no. That part he can atone for later. It’s the fact that you are touching him and the thoughts running through his head.

If you only knew what your words did to him. Virginity. It was a perfect choice of words. This was completely new territory. One simple touch from you and he felt like a virgin again.

Even now, as you start the machine and the needle is piercing his skin, all he can think about is your touch, the way your fingers hold onto him.

He knew he would feel everything more with his heightened senses, but he never would have expected this. Every flash of pain, every touch. How close you are, your legs pushed up against his own. It’s almost too much, but still not enough.

Fingers brushing over his skin, the pain along with the electric feeling going through his body. You’re inflicting him pain, yet your touch is so gentle.

You check in with him, asking if he is okay. How can he possibly answer that? He’s not okay, never will be again, yet he never wants you to stop.

He is bare, feeling exposed under your touch. He likes the way you’re caging him in, holding him in place. He could easily break free, but you told him not to move, so he won’t. He is completely at your mercy, and he hates the way his cock twitches at the thought.

Ever so often you wipe away the excess colour. The liquid cold against his warm, bruised skin. Matt’s breath hitches at the feeling, barely keeping it together.

He now knows why you love this so much. Submitting yourself to another, your pain in their hands. That sweet, intoxicating pain.

The hours go by. Both the longest and fastest hours of his life. Matt feels like you’ve only just started, when you break away, cleaning up.

You focus on the tattoo, wiping away excess colours, starting the aftercare. Gently rubbing vaseline on it to keep it wet for the first few hours, helping the healing. You cover it carefully in transparent wrap and tape it to his skin.

When you’re done, you finally look up into his eyes, only to find him looking flustered. Afraid you did something wrong, you cup Matt’s cheek gently.

“Matty, are you okay?”

When he looks up, his eyes almost finding yours, his intense gaze sends shivers through you. He looks at you. Like he really sees you – eyes clear and sharp, but his expression is soft. Before you can ask if something is wrong, his lips brush against yours.

His mouth is warm against yours, gentle and curious – not rough or chaste. The soft motion makes your cheeks turn pink. No one had ever treated you like this. Never had anyone treated you with reverence, like you were fragile.

You lean into the kiss, deepening it. Matt’s hand moves to your thigh, gently pulling you to him. you straddle him, loving the feeling of his body against yours.

Matt is already hard under you, his erection pressing against your clothed heat. You move your hips against him, pulling a soft moan from him.

One hand on your waist, the other in your hair, holding you close as he bucks up into you.

You break away for air, chuckling, unable to hold back your giggles. Matt smiles at you, gently rubbing your thighs.

“What?”

“Just… It’s ironic that you just got a religious tattoo and… We’re about to do something unholy” you bite your lip, liking the forbidden feeling coursing through you.

“I’m already going to Hell for the thoughts you had running through my head, I might as well make the journey worth it”

He pulls you back into his embrace, kissing you again. The kiss quickly turns more heated, the years of yearning making you both hungry, desperate for each other.

You break away from him and jump off his lap. The confusion is visible on Matt’s face, clearly not happy about the loss of contact.

“Wh-where are you going?”

You smile at the desperation in his voice. You tear off your pants and underwear, before returning to his lap, where you lean in closer, whispering in his ear.

“I had to many clothes on”

A smirk spreads on his face, as his hands run up along your legs, finding your thighs bare. His fingers feel amazing against your skin, making you shiver.

Matt licks his lips, as he moves up your thighs, until his fingers brush against your folds. Throwing your head back, you moan his name softly, as he kisses your throat, his fingers finding your clit.

You raise yourself a little, allowing his fingers to slip into your heat.

“Fuck… You’re so wet, sweetheart”

You moan out as his fingers start moving, his thumb moving in gentle circles on your clit. His pace is agonisingly slow, forcing you to savour every single movement. You rut against his fingers, causing him to smirk.

His fingers curl inside you, working you open, as he hits your sweet spot over and over. As you get closer to your climax, Matt’s hand finds your throat, pressing gently at your pulse point.

“Look at me. I want to see you when you come”

With those words, you're lost, shaking around his fingers as you come with his name on your lips.

He works you through your orgasm, his free hand kneading your thigh as you come down from your high.

Matt finds you lips, kissing you passionately,

When you come to, you make quick work of his pants, not wanting to wait another second to have him inside you. When his cock springs free, you pump him gently a few times, pulling desperate moans from him.

“Please”

His plea is barely above a whisper, but it’s enough to make you shiver. You let his length run through your slick folds, before you sink down on him ever so slightly, enough to make him moan, before you lift yourself up.

You sink down on him again, letting him fill you completely. Groaning at the stretch, you allow yourself a moment to adjust. Matt grips your waist, his head thrown back in pleasure.

“Fuck Matty”

Matt pulls you closer, kissing you hungrily, small praises washing over you. How amazing you feel, how long he’s dreamt about this, how tight you are around him.

You look into his beautiful eyes, dark with lust, more beautiful than you’ve ever seen him before. You kiss him with unknown hunger, years of want poured into it. And then you start moving, up and down his delicious length. Matt whimpers under you, his breath hitched, overwhelmed by the feeling of you.

As you move faster, Matt bucks his hips up, his thrusts matching yours. Each shallow thrust of his sends bolts of pleasure through you, making you grind down on him harder, faster. His thumb finds your clit,

“Please cum for me”

A few more drags of his cock is all it takes, before you clamp down on him, screaming out his name as you come undone.

It’s not before Matt follows, emptying himself in you, painting your womb with his seed. You fall against his chest, both of you panting heavily.

Aa you both come down from your high, Matt holds you close, not wanting to let go. You stay like that for a few minutes, just savouring each other.

When you finally break away, you see the wrap has loosened. You giggle softly, Matt smiling at the wonderful sound.

“Might need to redress this. Hopefully there’s no damage”

“If there is, it was worth it” he smiles softly, that signature smile of his on his beautiful face. You give him a sweet kiss, feeling happier than you’ve ever felt before.

Thank you for reading <3

Tagging: @buckypascal @mindidjarin @lucy-sky @fictionalnerdery @loverhymeswith @a-reader-and-a-writer @yespolkadotkitty @lcvenderblues @green-socks @freshabogados @e-dubbc11 @murdocks-devil @lawfulgranola

[luveline]

you know, I'm coming right back [Fred Weasley x Reader]

summary: you're a lonely artist and Fred is your adoring model

word count: 2.4k

tags: reader insert, lonely reader, artist reader, seventh year, kids in love, first kiss, getting together, pining, fluff, friends-to-lovers

It was easy for you, usually, to act fine. To feel fine. Any loneliness that clouded your life was pushed firmly into the depths of your thoughts. You tried to focus on the things that mattered, essays and charms and your art.

You loved to draw. You had sketchbooks filled to the brim with sketches, some half finished, others coloured and lined. You drew everything, though you struggled to bring anything from your memory. Everything you drew had to be done right there, right then, with unsuspecting models. You sketched students eating their dinner, scribbled side profiles when you managed a spare minute in class. But you're most impressive artwork was done in the library, where nothing moved. Everyone was silent. You had pages and pages of bored, tired looking students. When exams approached, you hurriedly copied down the expressions of people on the edge of depression and panic.

You had friends, ish. You knew people. You'd had intense friendships that somehow always ended in awkward drifting aparts. Well, you thought. There must be something wrong with me. They liked me before they didn't, so the fault must've been mine.

You huffed out a sigh, pressing your face deep into the textured page of your sketch book, breathing in the smell of charcoal. You were sketching the illusive Fred Weasley, who you'd never truly drawn before. Maybe you had scraps from your second or third year when you'd still attempted to draw moving objects before getting comfortable and accepting that still life was your forte.

He was maddeningly good lucking when his eyebrows puckered in concentration. He seemed to actually be studying for once, sat at a table with his brother, George, and housemates Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet.

You were sat by yourself, and couldn't help listening to his lilting voice as he bantered with his friends. They were talking about Umbridge (the current victim of the Hogwarts' student body hate train), and quidditch, and their recent ban from quidditch. You'd never played.

"Watch out, dolly fell asleep," said one of the girls.

You bit your lip. You'd been nicknamed dolly by the girls in your dorm because of your porcelain doll you'd had since childhood. Even though this year was your last, you still hadn't felt the need to hide her away. She made you feel much less anxious and alone.

The whole school knew, naturally.

"Don't get any funny ideas," said Angelina,  to the twins.

"Come on Angie, you think so little of us?" said George.

"Yesterday I watched you trick a group of forth years into taking puking pastilles." Angelina said.

"It was hardly a trick. We told them they were multi-faceted," said George.

You could hear your heartbeat if you focused. It was in your ears. It bump, bump, bumped.

Bump bump. You flinched, a hand settled on your shoulder quickly moved.

"Wake up, dolly. Library's closing."

You squinted up into Fred's face, head halo'd by candlelight. Lifting your head from the wooden table, you stretched your neck to the left. It clicked.

"Uh..."

"Hmm?" You prompted him, smoothing your hair behind your ears.

"You have - dirt. On your face. Here-" He said, reaching forward. You closed your eyes as he gently wiped the skin above your eyebrow.

"It's charcoal."

"What?"

"It's not dirt," you said, peaking at him through your eyelashes. "It's charcoal."

He looked mildly surprised. You shifted, hoping to cover your sketch before he caught sight of it.

It didn't matter.

"It's me. My gorgeous dolly, you've created quite the masterpiece right there, haven't you? I look vexingly handsome, of course. Thought if that's a consequence of your skill or my handsomeness is anyones guess."

You were lost for words. "Uh, quite."

"Yes, yes, quite. Say, could I keep it?"

"... You want the drawing?"

"I'd love it, if that's okay."

"I," you quickly dug your thumbnail into the paper, tearing carefully at the centre. The paper came away a little ragged and smudged. "Of course. It's yours."

He handled it with care.

The librarian jingled her little bell again.

"Thank you. So, see you?"

"Yep," you agreed.

He nodded his head and bowed out with his friends. You tried not to feel paranoid at their laughter.

-

You were curled up in a hidden alcove, though it was hardly hidden. Most students knew where to seek privacy in the castle. You just so happened to get there first that evening.

You were trying to sketch Fred again. It felt weird to be missing a page from your book, and weirder still that you couldn't remember his face when he wasn't right in front of you. You tried, but it kept going wrong.

When you finally managed one you liked well enough, you had accidentally ruined it with a heavy hand and the wrong shade of brown.

He looked much too brunette.

You carefully rolled your coloured pencils back up, securing the leather ties tightly so as to keep every pencil confined.

Sighing morosely, you flipped to a new page. Things got so complicated sometimes, it made you agitated. You doodled a little sad face in the corner of your page. When the one thing that you enjoyed in life started to go wrong, it set off your whole mood.

Your birthday was coming up. It had been on your mind a lot lately. You'd spend it alone. That's what you figured. Nobody would know it was your birthday, or if they did, you weren't friends now, so...

You began with an arching circle, bisecting the lines appropriately. Feeling out the familiar lines of your own face came easy, the slight upper tilt of your brows, your hair and your pursed mouth. You always looked sad in the mirror, and it showed, dotted here and there when the only thing to draw was your own face.

The rudimentary outline of a birthday cake took form. The candles were unlit.

In a fit of unhappiness, you scratched out your mouth. It was never smiling.

"What did that piece of paper ever do to you?" said a voice.

You jumped. Fred was peering down at you curiously, wringing his hands. You put your pencil between the soft cover and smashed it flat, closed.

"Hi, dolly."

"Weasley."

"Oh, not even a first name?"

"You neglected mine first," you reasoned, rolling the words. He smiled at your joking tone.

"How rude of me. Hi, Y/N," he corrected himself.

"Hi, Weasley."

He smirked.

"Anymore of me in that blessed vessel?"

"Nah. You never stand still."

"If I pose for it?" He asked. You patted the ground in front of you.

He was a lovely model. He stayed infinitely still, more still than you imagined possible for him. He sat at a 3/4ths angle, chin up but not too far, mouth tilted and eyes open.

His eyes were the one thing he couldn't keep still. You tried not to flame in the cheeks everything you'd catch his gaze on you.

You sketched fast, choosing to hatch rather than render, big swooping lines to give the illusion of a depth that wasn't really there. You would've loved to do a full render, maybe even a colour portrait, but he was beginning to look a little antsy.

You set the book on the floor to face him and pushed it into his eyesight softlt. He turned. He looked nice like that, face bent, hair falling into his eyes.

After a moment, he began scrounging through his robe pockets. He set down a box, a lighter, a pair of gloves.

Finally, he set a galleon onto the floor close to your crossed legs.

"For you," he said, smiling at your inquisitive look. "For the drawing."

"Oh, I can't accept that. And I'd like to keep this one, if it's alright."

Fred thought for a moment. "Alright, you keep it. And the galleon, too, for the one you gave me the other day."

You bit back a smile. "I can't take your money, Fred."

"I can't keep having you draw me for free. It's as valuable a service as anything else. Plus, I'm not sure if you know, but I run a lucrative business these days."

You picked up the coin, rubbing your thumb against the engravings thoughtfully. "It's hardly a service."

"A talent, then. A skill. You're very good."

You're neck almost snapped as you looked into his face, wanting to assess his expression for genuineness. He looked earnest, and kind. You blinked away the gathering heat behind your eyes.

"Thank you."

He waved a hand at you. "Think nothing of it."

"Really-" you cleared your throat, "-you're doing me a favour. I'm not good at drawing things that move."

"I'm sure you're better than you think," he said.

You shook your head, smiling smiling smiling.

"What's in the box?"

"Oh, this old thing?" Fred weighed the box in his hands. It was soft at the corners, like a simple jewelry box that you had in your trunk. He offered it to you. You opened it carefully, the lid sliding free with a shhhhh sound. Inside was an evil looking fruit pastille, a match stick and a dried up flower petal.

It felt like a very private thing to see, suddenly. Such an eclectic collection of items couldn't be random.

"The first puking pastille George and I made. Or rather, the second - the first was forcibly fed to Lee Jordan in our third year. The match stick is from my Uncle's matchbox. I never met him. And the flower was from Ginny, when she was 9." He sounded nervous.

"It's a memory box."

"I- yes. It is. Things are sometimes so miserable now, with Umbridge and you-know-who. Scary, even. I look at them when I feel like it won't ever end."

You took them in for a little while longer and then placed the lid onto the box with nimble fingers. You scratched the lid with a fingernail.

"It's nice. You're right. Things are so awful right now, it's good to have reminders of why we keep going."

"Exaclty. Dolly, can I interest you in a fruit pastille?"

"Not on your life."

"They're perfectly edible!"

"Sure, Fred."

-

The honest conversation you'd shared with Fred was a catalyst between you. He often came to find you, each time whining and nagging you to just sit in the library like most people do.

"What, so your housemates can throw paper balls at me?"

"They thought you were sleeping!"

A likely story, you thought. He sometimes asked you to draw him, posing with the elegance of a natural born model. It was great for you personally, you felt that you were really getting a feel for his face. Eventually, you were able to draw his face from memory, the details of his nose coming to your fingers as easily as a first year spell.

It became about capturing emotion. You could capture his likeness now without a second thought, but his emotions were much more complicated. How would you show his veiled frustration the day Umbridge kicked him off the quidditch team? Through the clenching of his jaw? The shy veins in his forehead? How did you showcase the fear when he'd come back to Hogwarts after Christmas break, through his eyes, downturned and squinting just a little?

Today, it was poorly hidden elation. "How come you're so happy?" You asked, pencil between your teeth. He grinned. You measured his face with your thumb in the air, forming an L.

"Is it a prank?"

"You're thinking too small."

"A new product?"

"Still need to go bigger!"

"Hmmm," you hummed. Measure twice, cut once. Or in your case, sketch once.

"George and I, we're gonna open a shop."

"A section at Zonko's isn't enough for you?" You asked, casually, though you were very very happy for him.

"It's going to be amazing. We're going to run it, just the two of us, and you won't catch me in these scrappy long sleeves anymore. The next time you see me, I'll be in a full suit and tie."

"The next time? Is that not tomorrow?"

Fred closed his mouth, realising his mistake. He had revealed something he hadn't intended to. "We're leaving," he confessed. "We were going to wait for our NEWTs but... Well, we won't need them. This is going to work."

"So. You're leaving today?" You asked, crestfallen.

"Hey," Fred said, rubbing a placating hand over the curve of your shoulder. "Tomorrow. During the DADA OWL. We have a plan."

"This is goodbye?"

"No! No. Not if you don't want it to be. Actually, I've been meaning to ask you something, and maybe now isn't the best time, I had this whole letter planned and I didn't want to distract you from your exams and-"

"What do you want to ask me?"

Fred straightened. "I wanted to ask - will you go out with me? Not, you don't have to be my girlfriend if it's too soon, I'd love to take you for food someplace, I was going to ask you to Hogsmeade, but when the shop officially became ours, the plans changed so fast and I didn't know if you'd still want-" you cut off his rambling.

"I'll be your girlfriend," you said.

"You will?"

"Sure, if you'll be my boyfriend," you murmured.

Fred moved the arm that had been on your shoulder to the nape of your neck. "That's a dealbreaker," he said, leaning in.

He kissed you chastely on the lips first and then pulled back to look into your face. You chased him, a moment of bravery, and opened your mouth to taste him. He was sweet, like sugar. Your sketch pad crinkled beneath you both as he pressed forward. Your chests touched, heaving.

"You're not gonna be my boyfriend?" You asked against his mouth, breathing hard.

"I'm gonna be much more than that, dolly," he said heatedly.

Your mouth was tingling. "Kiss me again?"

You gasped at the force of him, laughing. He laughed too against your lips, and the sound tickled. He gave you a multitude of short and sweet kisses before pulling away again.

He wiped the wetness from your lip with his pinky finger. "Godric, you're cute. Look how flushed you are! You're insane."

Something churned in your stomach. The butterflies had acquired a trampoline. You felt happier than you had in a very long time. "You're not half-bad yourself, Weasley."

[honey-milk-depresso]

dunno if this has been requested already, but can i get an albedo mc with the vice dorm leaders?? only if u want to :)

An alchemical genius, no wonder Divus favors you over everyone else. An amiable and patient, a kind soul in place. But you spend your time in recluse areas, sometimes having a slight distaste with talking with your peers because of the trouble needed to maintain the social relationship. You love drawing a lot, observing the things around you with curious eyes. Secretive about your past, you love working on many experiments, but know how to take a break. A bit of an oddball I must say.

You're also somehow very good with children, apparently.

Sorry there's no Ruggie, Jamil and Lilia- ;-;;;;;; And had to add in Idia to fulfil another anon's request.

Also pretty boy Albedo, he's so sweet UwU

TWST The patient and experimental alchemist, s/o (Albedo)

Trey Clover

Well, you certainly are quite weird. You usually exclude yourself from places with many people, even if you had met the Adeuce combo first, he doesn't see you around them so often even though the three of you claim you're best friends.

Trey sees you have a thing for alchemy, you love asking Crewel questions, albeit at appropriate timings, and Crewel keeps praising you for making a successful alchemy performance. It's not to become a teacher's pet, but rather because you were genuinely curious and love alchemy in general.

Trey is very appreciative of your calm, patient and kind nature. Heartslabyul is just filled with non stop drama, in fact, all of NRC is. Being with you, makes him feel more relaxed as you both remain quiet, enjoying the peaceful silence, occasional sounds from your pencil when you sketch and small conversations between you two.

He's also appreciating the fact you're wise enough to know how to take a break, so he wouldn't get worried you worry for him tho-.

You and Trey experiment on things related to alchemy science, your way of putting words together while making a hypothesis or conclusion and reason is somehow alluring to him.

Sometimes he sees you drawing in your sketchbook, while peering over it to look at him, eyes back to what you were drawing.

Upon finishing, you show him, and only him, that you drew things like the flowers, plants and trees, but most importantly, a beautiful sketch of him. You look a little shy when you showed him.

He chuckles.

You certainly are a unique one, aren't you?

Jade Leech

How interesting. A quiet little fish sketching away in their sketchbook, looking naive. How cute~ That was Jade's first thought.

He soon realized that you have always been watching him from the start, curious about his anatomy upon hearing he was a mer eel. A sneaky one he is, he peeps into your sketchbook when you aren't looking, discovering how you think his eel form looks like, finely sketched.

Perhaps he might show you? You're so curious as ever. You excel in alchemy, and you hold a passion for it dear, quite adorable may he add. You love experimenting on potions, chemicals, elements and much more, something Jade finds quite amusing, watching you as you stir a concoction in your cauldron.

You're patience and kindness is something he appreciated. Being the vice dorm leader of Octavinelle, isn't very easy. Jade's been running errand after errand non stop, everyone asking for his help with little patience sure gets him to burn out easily. Lucky for him, he gets to relax in the comfortable silence place between you two, occasional conversations brought up is something he thinks about a lot.

He's very keen on unravelling your past; you seem to keep it from everyone. He's not trying to be nosy, but he's just as curious of you as you are with him.

It's only fair he also gets his trade of the deal when he shows you his true form, hmm?~

Rook Hunt

Oh my! What an interesting and refreshing person you are! You have a keen eye for detail, don't you? Observing your surroundings, curious of the world around you, like himself!

Your sense of experimenting is something he admires, and he's more than glad to help you in doing so! He doesn't have to worry about you getting tired so frequently, you know when's the right time to take a break!

Rook is very moved by how patient and kind you can be, especially with him. His poor little soul can't handle the cruel weight of the school!~ You told him to please stop being dramatic- he "wasn't"- Geez-

It's funny how someone who likes talking, well, sort of, is friends with someone as quiet as you. Quite the dynamic you two make. He notices you seclude your self in places where there's zero to none people around, so... he'd be the one person who's always with you.

You're usually patient, so long as he doesn't disturb you too much, and Rook respects you want some quiet peace. And in all honesty, he loves the peaceful tranquility brought about.

He doesn't mind such <3

Ortho Shroud (Platonic)

Ortho finds you very cool!

He thinks you're love for alchemy and experimenting is something his brother would totally love! On the topic of his brother, you do remind him a lot about him. You two like to be alone but for different reasons.

Idia is more afraid of social interaction and awkwardness, but you on the other hand, you just prefer the peace and quiet, and maybe also you don't know how to handle social relationships too well.

That's okay! Ortho loves seeing you draw. Sometimes, he show your drawings to his brother and tells him what's it's all about. Your art is so detailed, fine and beautiful, he's never really seen such artistic talent in real life other than you!

You like showing him what you do, and show him cool things while you perform alchemy like creating an illusion of bright blue butterflies come to life from mixing potions.

It's super cool! And really beautiful! You can even create art it alchemy, so interesting!

I'm sure big brother would love how kind and patient you are! He admires that, and he feels big brother needs someone like you to help him!

He likes seeing you apart of his family, even though it just consists of him and Idia.

You're his other, cool role model, that's for sure! <3

Idia Shroud

Idia is super thankful that you're very patient with him, and that you're relatively quiet. He hates social interaction, the pressure's just too much, and he doesn't know how to keep a conversation going.

So you're quiet nature and being patient when he tries to think of a way to reply or talk to you is very appreciated. He usually just scrolls through his phone, hearing your pencil in contact with the pages of your sketchbook, drawing away. He wasn't going to lie, he think's you're really cute when you're focus on drawing.

Every time you're experimenting with your ace subject, alchemy, he usually helps you, albeit if you wanted him to usually because you just see him there just staring at your cauldron and sometimes you very tempting to want to join you- and he feels a little scared he might mess up.

You reassure him that it's okay to fail an experiment, and thus they are experiments, that they aren't made to be perfect the first time round. By this point, he thinks you're a saint, you're so kind and patient and like- he's just- there

Honey, you are the PERFECT GAMER BOY WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT-

Idia sees you one day sketching a lot, while you look at him intently sometimes. Was pretty nervous about what you were doing, but ultimately melt when you show him you were sketching him.

He's so flustered, embarrassed and happy at the same time because he didn't expect you to draw him, and he wonders why you wanted to draw him, but he's really happy you wanted to.

It makes him feel special <3

[call-me-aesthetic]

If Twisted Wonderland was an American Public School

WARNING: There are some slight sensitive topics that are featured in here! Reader discretion is advised!

Part 2 can be found here

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts:

- That one preppy girl who takes all honors and AP classes 😑

- Wants everyone to know that he’s becoming a doctor one day for his strict parents or he’ll dishonor the family

- Reminds the teacher about homework, knowing well that he’ll get slander for it

- Complains about how he got a 90 on his test or a B on his report card, a try hard much?

- Wears a cardigan with thicc but cute glasses since he’s one of those people with can’t see shit on the board so he has to move to the front of the class

Ace Trappola:

- The SoundCloud rapper, that’s it

- “Wanna listen to my mixtape? It’s pretty fire, my guy.” 😩🔥

- You will not miss him BLASTING out some song on his Bluetooth speaker, that shit be echoing through the hallways

- Tells you to stop what you’re doing only for him to either sing horribly or do a backflip, thinking that he’s so cool

- Wears a Supreme jacket with AirPods and waves on his head

Deuce Spade:

- Assuming that he’s still a delinquent, he’s that kid with the most fucked up school record

- Not much of a bully but will still talk shit to your face without caring, might even throw stuff at you during a lesson and you would be the one getting in trouble instead of him 🗿

- If he ever gets mad, it would be overdramatic like kicking the desks, punching the lockers, or walking out of the classroom unannounced and everyone would look at each other wondering wtf happened

- Covers the entire desks with drawings of skulls and those “s” if you know what I mean

- Wears Champion hoodies, wants you to know that he’s broke and rich at the same time

Trey Clover:

- The guy that’s not really popular but everyone knows him since he’s in all their classes

- Most people might have a crush on him because he’s REALLY nice 😳👉👈

- Gives off “older brother” vibes based on the way he looks and acts, like offering you a ride home if you beg ask nicely

- Secretly bakes creme brulee but doesn’t want to mess with the flow so he sticks to the status quo

- Wears the school’s hoodie just because he thinks it looks good on him, and the fact that he doesn’t know what else to wear

Cater Diamond:

- Hot Cheetos girl 🥵

- Has a whole buffet of food in his backpack and will not hesitate to eat them during a lesson, no sharing either sorry

- Excuses himself to the bathroom or full on skips class just to film a Tiktok

- Has about 100 followers on Instagram Magicam and brags about how he’s famous

- Wears a Thrasher hoodie with large hoop earrings and his hair in a bun

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar:

- The kid who flunked their freshman year that also sort of vibes with new classmates

- Always gets mistaken as a teacher by people since he looks and sounds old

- Knows the lessons but still fails them anyways, didn’t really give a damn either 🙄

- Captain of every sports club you can think of, never actually plays but has a lot of knowledge on them

- Wears the school’s letterman from years ago since it used to be his brother’s and that he’s too lazy to buy a new one

Ruggie Bucchi:

- That one kid who NEVER has money for the book fair or any other school event

- Always has to ask his classmates for some cash

- If he somehow does, then he’s one of those kids who buys Diary of the Wimpy Kid or the World Record books

- If he’s feeling cheap, he’ll buy the “cool stuff” like the chocolate scented calculator or fruit snacks 😭

- Wears oversized hoodies and basketball shorts that are clearly hand-me-downs

Jack Howl:

- That one athletic kid who’s both scary good and competitive when it comes to school games like football or soccer

- Literally the best player on his team and without him, they’re trash as hell 💀

- Tries his absolute best to support his teammates without yelling at them for how dumb they are

- “KICK THE FUCKING BALL! DO YOUR LEGS EVEN WORK?!”

- Wears the school’s jersey just to show off his “school spirit”

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto:

- The kid who sell snacks for “charity” but everyone knows he’s keeping the money to himself

- If you don’t have cash or try to negotiate with him, the only thing he’ll do is raise the price up

- “What do you mean you don’t have ten bucks? I can see it in your pocket.”

- Just bring nothing with you, he’ll doing anything to steal your stuff 🤭

- Wears a collar shirt with a tie and khakis that have pockets to keep his glasses and money in

Jade Leech:

- The kid who puts on a goody two shoes facade but is actually a stoner

- Only does “safe” drugs like vape but occasionally smokes weed, mostly in the bathroom or behind the school 🌬

- Can play it off and hide the scent when he’s high, teachers never suspect anything from him

- No one really cares to stop him unless he gets caught or something idk

- Wears clothing that either makes him look like a businessman or a junky, there’s nothing in between

Floyd Leech:

- The kid that’s plays basketball or volleyball just because he’s hella tall, and is actually good at the sports but doesn’t put much effort into them

- Always stays behind after gym, even though the teacher tries to make him leave for his next class 😬

- “I swear after this one shot, I’ll go to class.” *He never made that shot*

- Will jump you no matter who or where you are, and will get angry if you step on his new shoes

- Wears the jersey of any famous team with the latest pair of Jordan sneakers

Scarabia

Kalim Al Asim:

- VSCO girl at best, don’t lie to me now 🤡

- The only words he knows are “And I oop– sksksk.” and “Save the turtles.”

- Walks during a track meet while everyone else is running and sweating hard, the teacher doesn’t care either

- Doesn’t really do anything in gym but talks to his classmates and stands near the water fountain to refill his Hydro flask

- Wears tie dye shirts with cute scrunchies

Jamil Viper:

- That one quiet kid who everybody thinks is a serial killer but he’s actually not, I swear

- He just wants school to be over and spend the rest of his summer relaxing 😔

- Although he shouldn’t abuse his “power,” he‘ll move his hands in his pockets or backpack to make it look like he’s about to pull a weapon out.

- “Chill, I’m just grabbing a pencil.” *Everyone in the class started crying*

- Wears dark colored hoodies that intimidates people but are actually comfy

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit:

- The baddie popular girl 😌💅✨

- Arrives to school late with a Starbucks in hand from his local Target

- Fixes himself every 5 seconds like reapplying his lipgloss or spraying Bath and Body Works cherry blossom perfume

- Uses acrylic nails and long hair extensions as weapons during a cat fight

- Wears a crop top with ripped jeans and those clout sunglasses

Rook Hunt:

- That creepy guy in the hallways who tries to get your attention, even if you don’t know him

- Scares people when he says, “Ayo, where my hug at?” 🥶💯

- Uses at least 10 cans of Axe body spray a week after gym class, which stinks up the locker rooms

- Waves at you if he passes your class, even walking into the room just to say hi

- Wears literally anything but always include a hat

Epel Felmier:

- The artist girl who just wants to be alone 🧑‍🎨

- Purposely draws in front of you but pretends like you’re not looking

- If you complement him, he’ll just brush it off and proceeds to diss himself

- “Thanks but I’m not THAT good at drawing, teehee.” *Insert Radio Rebel face*

- Wears a hoodie or a cardigan with big pockets to put his art supplies in

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud:

- I don’t even need to tell you who he is, y’all already know ahaha 🥴

- Sneaks a whole PlayStation in his backpack so he can play with it during lunch

- Is on his phone 24/7 even in class to the point where teachers don’t care anymore

- Tries to get people into anime but only to little success

- Wears a shirt of any anime character or that damn ahegao hoodie, girl bye

Ortho Shroud:

- The nerdy kid who’s known for destroying others at many games

- Plays classics like D&D, Yugioh, Pokémon, the whole shabang

- Daily Beyblade battles during recess with everyone surrounding him, the menacing aura radiates off of him

- Will steal your things if you lose to him but gives it back a week later cuz he’s sweet 🥰

- Wears light up Sketchers shoes and those Minecraft shirts you find at Old Navy

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia:

- The theatre kid who also goes to band practice, change my mind 👁👄👁

- Takes his role seriously when it comes to school plays and concerts, even if he gets casted as a damn tree or doesn’t go solo

- Remembers the songs and their lyrics to any musical you name, a really good singer at that too

- Plays almost every instrument, you definitely know this since you can hear him down the hallways during a test

- Wears a white button up shirt, black pants with fancy dress shoes, and top it all off with a fricking Rolex watch

Lilia Vanrouge:

- The weird guy who pranks people and vandalizes school property in every way possible

- If you ever get a textbook with a message that tells you to go to a certain page only for you to found a picture of a dick, yeah that was him 😒

- When using a Chromebook, he’ll leave a tab open on YouTube so when the next person uses it, pray that your ears will still work by tomorrow

- During lunch, he is a literal DEMON that mixes milk with chicken nuggets together and having the audacity to eat it too

- Wears an oversized raincoat or a windbreaker but idk wtf kind of things he has hiding underneath

Silver:

- That guy in class who consumes Monster energy drinks and falls asleep 99% of the time but somehow manages to pass the class 🤷

- Whenever he’s awake, he’ll talk to the teachers since he’s basically friends with them for some reason

- Writes his name out of boredom on any desk you sit on but in different places, sometimes around the corners or the sides

- Has a sixth sense because he’ll wake up if you try to draw on his face and if you did get something on him, it’s on sight

- Wears those colorful hoodies that zips all the way up to cover his face with a matching backpack, it’s pretty cool ngl

Sebek Zigvolt:

- That kid who literally knows everything about historical wars and will show it off during class

- Also has knowledge on weaponry, which has people questioning him but he’s just very dedicated on serving his country and people

- Knows how to fight and defend himself from a bitch since he spent his summer at a military boot camp, put respect on my man’s name 😤

- Honestly a great partner for a group project, actually does the given work but not the whole thing for you

- Wears anything that has camo pattern and chunky combat boots

I only made this because me and my friends were talking about our school memories so yeah. This is based from my experience so they might not be exactly accurate. Might even be a part two if you want.

[that-was-anticlimactic]

reki with tourette’s headcanons

[ID: it’s reki from sk8 the infinity wearing a yellow sweatshirt with his hands on his hips. he’s wearing a red bracelet on his right wrist and he’s smiling. behind him is a touette’s syndrome awareness flag. end ID.]

so. @zukkaclawthorne got me hooked on reki with ts and now imma post headcanons i wrote oops

okay so first—that little skateboard he plays with??? stim toy, actually.

he likes the sound the wheels make—that whirrrrrr sound. it makes his arms flappy :)

he also finds the rolling motion soothing and relaxing and it always calms him down—it takes his mind to a happy place

he rocks back and forth and shakes his legs a lot. that also contributed to why he was terrible at skateboarding the first few times he tried—because his body would be like “time to rock back and forth!” and it would mess him up

neck twitches for days :)

no but for real—neck twitching is one of his worst tics because sometimes—if he’s in a bad mood or if he’s sad or anxious—it gets harsh and violent and really strains his neck.

so, langa gives him neck / upper back neck massages to help with the pain

he went through this phase for a couple of months where whenever his neck would twitch, he would snap his fingers two times.

he has a lot of hand tics which can be stressful when he makes skateboards because sometimes he’ll be in the groove and then suddenly he’ll mess something up

speaking of messing things up, he has a tendency to dig the bottom of his palm into his forehead whenever he feels like he does something stupid—he doesn’t even realize it until someone points it out.

he feels like even more of a failure of a skater because of his tics because they can hold him back and make the course more dangerous.

if his blinking tic resurfaces, sometimes the blinking gets so intense that he literally cannot see for anywhere between five seconds and a minute depending on how bad it is. that is how he got some of his worst scars.

or sometimes he’ll make a really aggressive hand motion and it throws him off balance on the skateboard due to the intensity

anyways back to hand tics: he points a lot and does symbols like the “rock on” sign or certain numbers (for some reason, the most common number for reki to throw up is four—though sometimes he throws up whatever number he hears) he also grunts a lot as a tic so he sounds angry even when he is’t.

sometimes, his hand tics really hurt and his hands become shaky and his fingers start to feel the way his heart feels when he’s anxious. langa helps in different ways—he holds reki’s hand, he gives him something to fidget with to try to distract him (sometimes it’s his own fingers—he’ll just set them in reki’s palm and be like “let me carry some of the pain”—no, reki didn’t totally cry when he said that what)

sometimes, reki sticks pencils in his ears. his teachers have been trying to stop it since he was young, but he always did it anyways—he couldn’t help it.

his hair is also long enough for him to chew on. yes, he chews on the tips of his hair because i say so. sometimes, to stop him from doing that (and from swallowing his own hair), langa will try to make him laugh so it falls out of his mouth and then he’ll scoot close and tuck the hair behind reki’s ears… once they start dating, he kisses him too. but also that’s one reason why he wears the headband—to try to keep his hair out of his face so he doesn’t chew on it.

reki’s favorite form of stimming (other than his skateboard toy, that is) is stress balls. he’s got a couple of stress balls in his room or backpack—even one with string attached so he can carry it around his wrist. he just really likes the texture of them.

after his second race against adam, cherry and joe were so proud of him and also impressed and worried dads that they bought reki a big stress ball, like, the size of a stuffed animal. it was a blue cat. he uses it all the time.

speaking of fricking adam, we all know he would so use reki’s tics against him during a race. like, when he grabbed his wrist and “danced” with him, he would mock reki’s tics or say creepy things about how his verbal tics are music and his motor tics are him dancing along and it makes him so uncomfortable and like even more shaken

oh and adam purposely does things to trigger his tics, like when i mentioned that number tic??? yeah, adam will purposefully say numbers to make reki do the hand gestures

one time, reki wanted to tell langa that he loved him but got nervous so he signed it in sign language instead. but, since reki’s tics are occasionally hand gestures, langa thought that it was just a tic and mentally was like “i wish that was for me…” and reki is like “i wish he knew it was real…” and joe, cherry, shadow, and miya are all facepalming and groaning at their obliviousness

reki prefers taking hand written notes to electronic notes because he draws / doodles to stim and he can’t really doodle well on a laptop. so, he’ll doodle in class all of the time

sometimes, his pictures / notes turn out pretty bad / illegible depending on how bad his tics are, but that doesn’t phase reki. it used to when he was younger, but it doesn’t bother him at all anymore. in fact, he thinks it adds personality

during class, he’ll draw pictures for langa and slid them on his desk. they’re usually really random things like the teacher or the back of someone’s head or squiggly lines or whatever he sees outside. more often than not, it’s abstract art. langa loves these drawings and he keeps them all on his desk in his room.

reki also started drawing pictures for the rest of the sk8 crew and gives it to them during races. when he gave everyone their first doodle, he was like “i’m not the best artist ever and sometimes my tics mess up the doodle, but i thought of you while i drew it so i want you to have it”

(shadow didn’t shed a couple of unwilling dad tears when he got home that night what)

anyways, they all keep them. every single one. miya puts them in their school binder so they don’t feel as alone / isolated at school.

although shadow and miya give reki a lot of crap / teasing about not being as good as everyone else, the second they hear anyone comment about “the weird red head that makes noises” and comments on his ts in a negative way, oh, they will stop you.

sometimes, reki whispers words he hears under his breath as a tic (echolalia, baby~) and when he overhears people saying stuff about “that redhead that always follows snow around” or about him not being good enough or how he’s an idiot to face adam, he ends up muttering that too. and it’s not a one and done kind of thing—like. he does it for days. it makes him so upset (and i already hc him, with depression so it just makes it worse)

having tics while having injuries is not a good combination—especially if it’s with a broken arm. the crew made sure to keep an eye of reki’s comfort / pain level after adam broke his arm and literally tried to kill him in their final race. joe let reki squeeze his hand whenever he felt the urge to tic and cherry would ask him how much pain he was in after he ticced and depending on how bad it would be, would make joe or shadow fetch a heating pad or an icepack for reki.

joe also taught reki about the magical thing called physical therapy tape and helped him put it on his shoulders, neck, and back one time. it was his idea to use the tape on reki’s fingers when he was injured to make him feel better (because it literally makes my fingers feel better)

also langa kisses each of reki’s fingers and knuckles, slowly and tenderly, soft so he doesn’t hurt him or trigger a tic. a way of showing that he loves him not despite his tics, but even with his tics and that he loves him and his tics.

cherry isn’t always the best at showing he cares, so he’ll wear a ts ribbon sometimes in a way to show support (and it makes reki beam)

shadow once gave reki a flower shaped stress ball because there were “extra at work” (not true—he went looking for one)

miya didn’t really know much about ts at first and asked why reki made those noises and made weird movements all the time and langa explained so then that night when miya got home, they did research on ts so they could understand it better. later, they told reki that whenever they called him a slime, they meant it purely about skateboarding and it had nothing to do with his tics—even that his tics didn’t make him less of a skater

all his life, reki had been the different one: the one no one wanted on the team because sometimes his tics messed him up, the one who was asked to leave classes during tests because his tics were too distracting and made him take the test in the hall, when sometimes he’d get too overwhelmed by how close people were in the halls or at races and would have panic attacks, how he rocked in his chair and adjusted his position seventeen times an hour and sat on his feet while the other kids didn’t, how he shook his legs more aggressively than others, how he couldn’t skate as well as everyone else because of his tics and because he wasn’t good enough

which is probably part of the depression that weighs on his shoulders

the first time reki had a panic attack during a race due to closeness and overstimulating noises (and this is the first one after the sk8 crew happened) langa was racing and wasn’t there to help, so shadow kind of panicked and like picked him up under the armpits and carried him away from the crowd since reki could barely process anything other than panic and the sound and feeling of static and they sat in shadow’s car for the rest of the race and once he felt better, he gave shadow a huge hug and shadow returned it.

one time it happened and cherry was nearby and he saw the signs before it got bad (remembered from the previous time / his own experiences) and helped talk reki down before it got bad (he has a soothing voice)

usually, though, when / if it happens (because reki usually feels safe there), langa is the one who helps

but it got so much worse after skating against adam the first time because he no longer felt safe and suddenly everyone cheering adam’s name even after witnessing what he did to reki was too much but langa was racing adam so langa wasn’t there and this time it was joe who kneeled in front of him and started talking just loud enough for reki to hear and he was like “you’re safe—we won’t let anyone hurt you. we won’t let him hurt langa. you’re safe. i’m here and so is cherry and shadow and miya and langa will be waiting for you at the end of the race…”

it happens again at the next race he goes to—and this time it’s miya who notices and they tug on langa’s sleeve and is like “i think you need to take reki somewhere else” and langa does :)

okay i’ll end on a positive ts note or two—langa asks reki to add the ts ribbon to the design on his skateboard

shadow finds chewelry at the store one day when he’s shopping and buys it for reki (and gets a matching one for langa!)

once reki came back after his mental health break, the first thing joe said to him was, and this is nonnegotiable “reki! i missed you and your tics!”

miya once overheard reki muttering to himself about his annoying tics were, so they intervened and was like “your tics aren’t annoying. they’re you and anyone who think s they’re annoying is an idiot”

and for the first time in his life, reki doesn’t feel alone and isolated and so different from everyone (at least, he’s working on that last one) and he’s finally found a group of people who want him on their team and a boyfriend who always supports him and makes him feel less isolated, tics and all <3

i uhh I have a lot of feelings,,,

[peachyysugaa]

sloth and sheep

― yang jungwon x gn!reader

your best friend is acting weird, what seems to be the cause?

genre: fluff, school au, best friends to lovers

warnings: some teasing but it's jungwon what do you expect

wc: 1.3k

a/n: done with my last final! as a gift for being so patient, i wrote this while i was studying and to give myself motivation LOL i'll return with blood castle soon!! ^^

♞──────────────────────────♞

the scribbling of pencils hurriedly rushing to finish their last markings is all you can hear as your teacher counts down. everyone is quickly trying to jot down their final words for the essay.

"3... 2... 1... and stop!" your teacher shouts. some students groan at their inability to finish whereas some let out a sigh of relief. "pencils down, pass your papers to the front please. after that, you're free to go! have a nice summer, everyone!"

you pass your paper to your classmate kim sunoo in front of you. a smile graces his face as he takes it and continues passing the stack. you're packing up your supplies with a steady heartbeat before you hear footsteps approaching. you don't need to look up to know who it is.

"hurry up, y/n!" best friend!yang jungwon whines. you simply roll your eyes at him. the zipper of your pouch is followed by the shuffling of your satchel and the tapping of his feet.

"yah, yang jungwon, don't rush me," you scold.

"i wouldn't have to rush you if you weren't so slow," he continues whining, drawing out the vowels in "so" and "slow."

sighing, you get up and throw your bag over your shoulder.

"finally! i thought i was going to have to leave you!" the brown-haired teenager teases.

"you would never, wonie," you say as you stick your tongue out at him.

"watch me!" jungwon shouts before bolting towards the door and taking off. "last one to get there has to pay for the winner!"

"h-hey!! no fair, you got a head start!" you tell after him, scrambling your feet.

going at his own pace, sunoo shakes his head at the pair of best friends. "ugh, they're so in love it's almost cute."

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

you're not able to keep up with jungwon, who could literally run a marathon from his rigorous taekwondo training, so when you reach the shop, you're almost breathless and lucky that the shop is close by the school. the chime of the doorbell welcomes you as you push the door open, the staff greeting you with warm welcomes.

jungwon is already ordering his chocolate ice cream and another one while you hurriedly find your wallet. surprisingly though, he nonchalantly hands a cone over to you with your favorite ice cream flavor and pays for it himself.

"but i thought you said...?" you stiffly mumble out.

"your ice cream is melting, slowpoke," he simply states. your eyes widen as you quickly go to lick the sugary liquid before it can drip onto your hand. he's calmly watching you in amusement while enjoying his own dessert. "let's walk back, yeah?"

you're curious as to where his energy went, he's usually more playful with you, but you follow him out the store nonetheless. "sure, just tell me why you're acting so weird, wonie."

as the two of you start walking back on the road home, it's oddly silent. usually your way home (a/n: haha txt song) is filled with laughter and inside jokes, so the silence is extremely uncomfortable and feels much longer than the 3 minutes it actually is.

"alright, yang jungwon, you've been way too quiet. what are you planning, you sneaky bunny?" you give in, making a stop in your tracks. the streets are quiet as the sun begins to set and the once-in-a-while car whooshes past. he turns around with his wide doe eyes staring back at you rather earnestly.

"wh-why are you looking at me like that?" you unconsciously stammer out. jungwon suddenly takes a few steps closer, making you walk backwards into a wall. his hand come forward and encases you between the wall and his body. you can't help but take in the scent of detergent that surrounds you when he traps you, his brown hair that reminds you of a chocoball, and his eyes staring back at you. "w-what—"

you're cut off by a pair of fingers flicking your forehead before you're holding it in response to the pain. "ow! what was that for?!"

"you're keeping us from getting home! i want to watch movies, but you're being slow, y/n," he states before releasing you and walking briskly towards your shared street. "hurry up, or you're not sleeping over tonight."

"h-hey! you can't do that! it's our tradition to do ice cream and movies on the last day of finals!" you scold, rushing after him. when you catch up, you latch onto his back, jungwon's reflexes immediately kicking in and catching you and your legs as your limbs wrap around him. "if you're going to call me slow, i'll just hang on you like a sloth!"

the teenage boy laughs joyfully. "you already were one! sloth y/n, sloth y/n," he chants.

"i'll approve of this sloth y/n agenda only because you're carrying me like you're my moving branch."

"sure, sure. that's my new contact name for you, by the way."

"huh? what was it before?" you ask. you tilt your head forward to rest on his shoulder. the scent of coconut from his conditioner fills your nose as you do so.

"just dummy," he replies coolly. "what's yours for me?"

"first of all, i'm not a dummy," you pout. "second, remember that time you dressed up as a sheep for student council?"

"nooo!" he groans out as if he knows what's coming.

"yess! it's sheep garden to match your contact picture," you tease.

"then i'll dress you like a sloth to match your nickname."

"i thought you had most of our shared brain cells, wonie. sloths are too hairy to dress up as."

"not my problem, get hairy then." you slap his back as his reply. "yah! i'll file best friend abuse against you!"

"go ahead, no one else will deal with your whiny heinie."

"i'm dropping you because you said that."

you gasp. "you wouldn't."

a smirk appears on his face before he says, "try me." and he does it, making you yelp as he lets you fall to your butt on the grassy lawn of his house. "who's a whiny heinie now? pay the uber fees, sloth."

"yea, i'll pay alright," you mumble.

he doesn't catch it and looks at you curiously. "sorry, what d—whoa!!"

as he's talking, you pull his arm and cause him to come down to the ground with you, except the plan didn't end much like how you intended. you definitely didn't intend to be in a compromising position with jungwon hovering over you and trapping you like he had done earlier.

once again, your eyes are locked with his seas of dark brown, searching for some kind of sign, some kind of reason to act on the skyrocketing pulse of your heartbeat. you're too caught up in your thoughts that you don't hear him say, "you know what? screw it."

when his lips press against yours, you only have a few moments to realize and return the press before he's pulling away.

"wonie..." you breathe out. breathless is all that can describe you as your brain wraps around the fact that not only did you have your first kiss, but your first kiss was with yang jungwon, your best friend and crush. the two of you start to sit up, not really saying anything else with your legs intertwined.

it's him who breaks the silence. "i like you, y/n."

and it's you who reached forward to pull him into a hug. he's frozen as your arms take place around his neck and your lips go towards his ear to whisper, "i like you too, jungwonie."

his cheerful giggles that you've come to love and adore erupt out as he wraps his arms around you. knowing the two of you liked each other didn't change the way you acted together, but it made the time you two spent together even more special, now that you can hold hands and rub circles or cuddle while watching movies: doing the same traditions felt brand new.

[burytherosemarysprigs]

Oral Sadism and Literary Arguments

A/N : Ok, so, like enemies to lovers???? slow burn??? literature??? fuck me.

/ Masterlist /

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader (College AU)

Word Count: 6k

Summary: There’s probably only one thing worse than chauvinist literature, and that’s the sardonic boy who sits two rows behind in Lit class with his torn paperbacks and ineffable aversion.

“Well, I actually disagree with you,”

If you didn’t have that much self-control, you would’ve snapped the pencil you were holding in half, as you heard a deep voice speak up behind you, and before you could retort, Professor Gordon spoke,

“And why’s that Jason?”

“I think Bukowski was trying to present how men will hide their inner thoughts and feelings, really their sensitivity in that aggression as an attempt at protection.” Jason spoke up, his voice boiling your blood as the rest of the class stayed in relative silence, as you turned around to look at him as he stared directly at you,

“I’m sorry, protection? What part about misogyny and blatant objectification of women as only being sexual objects that can be discarded and picked up when he pleases passes as protection? Women that are empty and uncharacterised to the extent the reader begins to agree with Chinaski that yes, women are less. Women are not important. And women don’t require compassion and consent, what part of any of this reminds you about goddamn male – “

“All right, I think that’s enough for today.” Gordon interrupted your heated rant with a sigh, which you share and quickly turn around close your eyes to try and avoid the weight of Jason’s stare as Gordon begins to dismiss the class.

“All right everyone, I hope you took something useful from that discussion, though I’m not sure if you would classify that as a discussion,” He added sarcastically, before continuing, “I expect you all to have brief outlines planned out for next week, and please try to work as collaboratively as you can with your partner to do so.”

The last part was directed at you and Jason – though neither of you payed proper attention – while the rest of the class let out small snickers.

“Right then, class dismissed, and uh, you two, could you both please stay behind for a minute.”

Fucking great. You thought to yourself, even though Gordon didn’t specify both you and Jason, his tired expression tells you otherwise and you start collecting your notes and pens into your bag in a silent fury and made your way to the front of the class, where Gordon was leaning against his oak desk, watching both of you stand in front of him – not casting a single glance towards the other as you waited for him to speak. He sighs,

“I don’t think you both understand how frustrating it is when your top students both have it out for each other and can’t hold a single civil discussion before arguing like little children,” He begins, becoming more wary as he continues, “Which is why I paired you up for this assignment and I fully expect you both to work together, and I hope I can expect that from you?”

He looked at both of you with an expectant look, and Jason only nodded curtly as a response, and you did the same but decided to chirp in,

“That’s great that you think we’ll be able to work together, sir, but on a totally unrelated note, how would my grade be impacted if my partner was suddenly mauled by a car over the weekend and was unable to complete the project with me?” You spoke, voice deadpanning, as your professor barely restrained in a smile while Jason looked at you with an empty expression.

“I would say that would be a fail as you missed the premises of ‘working with a partner’, as well as some serious legal consequences.” He replied, somehow maintaining a serious look as he spoke.

“That’s great to know sir.” You spoke, nodding along before he dismisses you both, leading you to quickly walk out of the classroom, breathing out a sigh of relief as you see Barbara leaning against the wall, busy on her phone, waiting for you to come out.

“What took you so long,” She asks as soon as she hears your sigh, pocketing her phone, and linking her arm with yours,

“I swear to God, one day, I might as well skin him – “

“Look, if I had known before that you could be so dramatic, I would’ve told you to choose drama as your major.”

“Ha. So funny. It’s just – fuck him.” You say the last part under your breath as you turned around to see nobody in the empty hallway.

“You two are really something else.” She states, making you roll your eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s supposed to mean that you and Jason are really annoying. And petty.”

“Well, he’s the one that needs to contradict and compete against every single fucking thing I say, every single fucking time! It’s really fucking annoying,” Barbara only rolls her eyes in amusement. “And Gordon paired us up together for this project, and, God, I just can’t do anything with him without wanting to punch him in his stupid face.”

“I know, and that’s exactly why Gordon paired you both up, he really likes you both and he wants you both to stop having this weird rivalry between each other.”

“Wait. You knew?”

“Well yeah. I’m his daughter.”

“Well, why didn’t you tell me then?”

“Because I like seeing you suffer.”

“You know, you’re a terrible friend.”

“Thank you,” She replies, with a small laugh, before she links her arm with yours again and whips out her phone to frantically shoot another text as she lets out a deep sigh. “Where is Steph? She took my car this morning and said she’d pick us up.”

“You let her drive your Bentley?” You ask, surprised she would give Stephanie one of her most prized possessions.

“Yeah, I know,” She spoke, absorbed in her phone, “But, she promised me that she would keep it safe, and we all know that I will kill her if something happens to it.”

“I do.” You reply, a small laugh escaping your lips before a blue Bentley pulled up in front of you both, causing Barbara to quickly pull open the door and shuffle inside, leaving you to chuckle to yourself before making your way to the back seat of the car, the blaring music making you wince as you enter the car but Babs quickly turns it off as both of you settle in.

“See! Your car is perfectly fine, just like I told you it would be!” Steph smugly announced, her blonde curls bouncing wildly as Barbara stared at her unimpressed, before both of them fall into their routine bickering as, this time, Babs begins to criticise her driving and apparent ‘mishandling of the most precious thing to me’, while you only roll your eyes at their antics before pulling out your phone to scroll through the messages you’ve missed throughout the day.

“Hey,” Steph’s voice shakes you out of your thoughts as you meet her eyes through the rear-view mirror, “What’s up with you today?”, her seemingly innocent question provokes a snicker from Babs – to which she receives a smack on the shoulder from you.

“What?” Steph inquires further.

“Nothing, why don’t you ask miss ‘I-fucking-hate-Jason-Todd’ here.”

“Fuck off, Barbara.” You grit out, glaring at her through the rear-view mirror.

“God, both you and Jason actually act like children,” Stephanie chimes in, “You’re both almost the same but you both compete against each other against every little thing – “.

“Are we done talking about Todd?” You retort, ignoring Steph’s comment, “I have better things to do than think about him.”

“Mhmm, sure.” Barbara winks at you and it takes a lot for you not to launch at her right there, in the car but Steph draws your attention away by babbling about some boy she met in her criminology class and the conversation in the car gradually fizzles out, until Steph asks,

“You guys heard about the party this weekend, right,” A matching ‘yes’ from you and Babs prompts her to continue, “Well, you’re going then, right?”

“I don’t know, but why’re you so pressed about it?” Bars questions, with a raised eyebrow.

“No reason, I’m just curious.”

“It’s Tim, isn’t it?” This time, you pipe in, and Steph almost yells,

“No. No, it’s not!”

“Oh my god. Of course it is.” Babs laugh echoes with yours as you eye Steph in the rear-view mirror, to see a blush dusting her cheeks as she quiets down.

“Whatever, are you coming or not.”

“After this conversation, yeah I am.”

“God. I hate you both.”

Standing in the corner of the party, nursing a red solo cup of something that burns your throat when you drink it, you regret not saying anything in the car against attending this party.

You’re currently standing alone, both Steph and Babs have completely disappeared into crowd, as Dick had shown up and quickly whisked her away as soon as you all entered the apartment, whereas Steph has promised to get you a drink about twenty minutes ago but never came back and as you try to block out the reverberating EDM music blasting through the room, you make your way towards the kitchen to re-fill your cup (the one that you went and got yourself), before something catches your attention in the peripheral vision.

It’s a wispy haired girl, her eyes smudged with mascara, backed against the wall of the kitchen – away from the main crowd, you could pick from her body language a sense of uncomfortability as she was drunkenly shaking her head at a man who towered in front of her, making you stop in your tracks to watch the scene unfold right in front of you, before quickly changing your course towards their direction, already knowing the identity of the man in front of the girl, without seeing his face.

“Hey, Cyrus, get the fuck away from her!”

As soon as you reach them, and the words leave your mouth, another raucous voice speaks at the same time as you.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Cyrus and the girl in front of him stop at their hushed conversation, to look away from each other and face you both while you also look at Jason – with a shocked expression – standing next to you and before you can say anything, Cyrus lets go of his hold on the girl before turning to glare at you.

“I don’t see how any of this is any of your business?”

You restrain yourself from physically hurling at him and fist your hands at your sides before looking at him with an unimpressed look.

“I don’t see how any of this is your business either, Beck? Thought daddy said that he’ll pull you out of school if he had to deal with your stupid behaviour again, or did you forget about it?”

“I swear to god – “

He tries to step closer to you but Jason steps in front of you before he can do anything else, and mutters,

“How about you fucking walk away before something worse happens?”

Beck shrugs of Jason’s hold on him before walking away and pointing a finger at you.

“You’re such a fucking bitch, you know that?”

“Should’ve said that to your daddy when he said I was best fucking person he’s ever met.”

He looks at you wildly and is about to retort before one of his friends pulls his attention to a game of beer-pong happening in another corner of the party and the whole scene stops for a second. You watch with a held breath as within a fraction of a second, a cocky smile overtakes his face and his shoulders relax as he runs his hands through his dark hair, leaving with his friend and you quickly turn around to see the girl, still standing there, her arms wrapped around her body and a shocked expression on her face.

It takes you a second, but you manage to gently coax her to the hallway outside the apartment and Jason (unbeknownst to you) follows in your footsteps.

“Do you want me to call you a cab, or can I drop you off?”

She shakes her head and is about to say something before Jason interjects,

“I can take her home.”

Both you and the girl turn around and stare at him and you quickly shake your head, diverting your gaze away from him,

“It’s fine Todd, I’ve got this.”

He sighs.

“Will you just let me help her?”

“Well, I’ve already told you that I’ve got this under control, so I don’t see why you’re being so – “

“Oh - uh, you don’t have to worry about me, I can uh – go home myself.”

“No. I – uh mean, let us take you home just to make sure that everything will be okay.”

A meek smile overtakes her face as you squeeze her hand lightly and you offer a half-smile in return.

“Us?” Jason’s voice perks up and you turn around,

“Well, I don’t have a car. If you want, I can come with you and drop her off at her place but – “

“Yeah, sure. Come on.”

His voice is clipped as he moves past you both, turning around the end of the hallway, leading you both to quickly follow him as well.

“Wait. I never asked you for your name.” You gently rest place your hand on her shoulder, making her stop and quietly giving her name,

“It’s Anna.”

...

By the time you’ve left Anna’s apartment complex, the small talk in the car dwindles down as you both sit, unnerved in the dimmed light of the car, the silence suffocatingly awkward. It doesn’t change until he pulls up to the curb, facing the entrance to your apartment building.

“Thanks.”

It’s quiet enough that you didn’t expect that he’d actually hear you. Let alone, grab your wrist before you leave, an incredulous expression on his shadowy face.

“Thanks? That’s it. You’re not going to say anything about what’s just happened?”

“Well, what the fuck do you want me to say.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well neither do I. Look. Thanks for dropping me off and Anna. That’s it. I don’t have anything else to say to you.”

He doesn’t say anything and let’s go of his hold on your wrist before you quickly slip out of the car, not realising the force at which you push, slams the door shut, making you internally wince. But in your peripheral vision, you can see he doesn’t look at you, with his face staring forward and grip tight on the wheel.

His car’s gone further and turned the corner before you’ve even made it to the entrance doors, and you breath in the cold October air, letting the wind whip across your bare skin, goosebumps rising while standing in a pathetically insulating satin dress, your thoughts pummeling through your mind without fully understanding them and you sigh again.

“What did you say to him after that?”

“Babs, I’m already – “

You stop midway through your hushed conversation with Barbara to see a disheveled Jason noisily weave his way through the shelves, towards the table at the back of the library you had occupied with Barbara.

“Sorry, I – “

“If you weren’t really going to care about this assignment, you should’ve said something before showing up thirty minutes late.” You deadpan, voice steely and brows furrowed.

“Will you fucking listen to me?” he breathlessly cuts you off from saying anything else as he drops his books on the table.

“I’ll head out now.” Barbara mutters to you, squeezing your arm and slinging her bag over her shoulder before quietly slipping out of sight. You rested your chin in your propped arm, waiting for Jason to continue,

“Well, what’s your excuse?”

“I don’t have an excuse. I was caught up in call with my father, it ended up being longer than I expected.”

You stare at him for a moment, his eyebrows also furrowed and hair sticking in all directions as he breathes heavily.

“Whatever, just complete the outline of notes I made for you.” You replied, pushing pieces of sticky notes and highlighted papers, that you had been picking at for the past half hour, towards his direction.

In about fifteen minutes, you’re both working in relative silence apart from the occasional remarks on the thesis and clarification on handwritings. There’s also been the perpetual looks on Jason’s part, and regardless of how much you try to block them, it itches at you to confront him about his irritating tendency.

“What Jason? What do you want now?”

His expression is firstly, taken aback, and then he coughs before asking,

“Did you ever talk to the girl after the party?”

You nod slowly, eyes still trained on the table, curving letters on colour-coded sticky notes before replying,

“Yeah, Stephanie’s their R.A, so I went and checked up on them the day after the party, she’s doing fine.”

You think that’s the end of his curiosity, but the pit of anxiety in your stomach and his next question, makes you internally want to bang your head against the alder wood table.

“And, uh, what about Beck?

Now, you stop writing with your pen and look up at him instead, resting your chin on your propped hand again, with a bored expression splayed on your face to try and detract from the internal anxiety, for both yourself and him.

“What about him?”

He doesn’t say anything at first and for a moment you think he might snap like he did in the car a few nights ago, but he only closes his eyes in frustration as you cock your head to one side.

“If you’re wondering if he’s going to face consequences for what he does – then no.”

There’s no verbal response except for a quizzical expression and you almost roll your eyes at him.

“I swear to God Jason, do you live under a fucking rock?”

“I just – look if you’re gonna be a bitch about it, then fucking leave it.”

“Maybe if you’d like to stop yelling in the goddamn library, I can fucking say something.” You almost hiss at him, voice seething as you both glare at each other.

“Anyways, you probably know that Beck’s the son of the headmaster, yeah, yeah, anyways, he’s always been a fucking creep around parties, but he’s never like you know, ever gotten that far.”

Jason raises an eyebrow at your hushed whispers.

“Like, he just trails around parties looking to either fight someone or just annoy them the fuck out but usually someone stops him before he can do something worse. But, still doesn’t mean that he isn’t a fucking asshole anyways – and his dad and him have like the worst fucking relationship ever, he’s threatened to pull him out a bunch of times of school because he’s so shit.”

You lower your voice even further at the last past, that you’re not sure if he can even hear you.

“How do you know all this?”

You shake your head and trail your eyes back to the unfinished notes in front of you.

“That’s unimportant. He’s a whiny trust-fund brat and I don’t know why someone hasn’t punched him yet.”

That silences Jason for a moment. And the moment doesn’t last long before your phone’s alarm blares through the silence of the library and you quickly move to silence it and Jason eyes question you but you don’t respond, instead move to disorderly throw all the pens and highlighters into your bag and grab as many papers you could in one go before quickly whispering,

“I’ve gotta go.”

“Wait – “

“Look. I promised I’d help a friend out with something. I’ll let you know when I’m free again.”

Jason doesn’t have a chance to say anything else before you’ve flitted through the haze of bookshelves out of view.

“What happened to the guy your dad set you up with?”

“Darian?”

Babs doesn’t look up from her place on the vanity table as she touches up her makeup while you’re sat on the table with a plastic fork prodding the edges of one of the Halloween themed chocolate cakes Babs attempted to bake for the party.

“Yeah, the one with the hair, right?”

“The hair?”

She casts a pointed look at you through the mirror, but you only take in another forkful of chocolate icing before answering,

“Yeah, he had like the most voluminous hair I’ve ever fucking seen.”

“Really? Well he had the most boring personality that I’ve ever fucking seen.”

She barely contains a smile at your comment while her own snarky comment elicits a snort from you but before you can say anything else, the frantic clicking of Stephanie’s (beloved) d’orsay heels against the linoleum floor followed by her quickly making her way into the dimly lit bedroom causes the room to fall into silence.

“You’re not ready yet?”

Her voice holds an accusatory tone and Babs quickly scoffs,

“I’m trying. But somebody keeps distracting me by asking unimportant questions.”

“Excuse me. I’m trying to be a good friend and keep up with my friend’s life.”

“Please. It sounds more like you want to know more about Darian.”

Before you can retort to her statement, Steph’s voice cuts in,

“Darian? Who’s that?”

“A guy I went on a date with a while ago.” Babs replies with a roll of her eyes, pulling out a scarlet lipstick tube from her make-up bag.

“ – That your dad set you up with.” You finish for her and Stephanie laughs.

“Since when is Professor Gordon a dating guru?”

“Since fucking never,” Babs replies, this time, twisting the cap of her lipstick. “It was just some guy in the forensic unit that he probably felt bad for being single and alone, but he shouldn’t have, ‘cause he didn’t have a fucking personality even if he tried.”

“Well that sucks. Anyways, are you both ready?” She pulls out her phone out of the bag she’d brought and starts typing.

“Or, you know, at least tried to be ready?” This time, she eyes you pointedly and you let out a noise of protest while stuffing another forkful of chocolate cake in your mouth.

“I’m sorry not all of us have devoted our whole fucking lives curating every Halloween costume known to man!”

This was something you’d noticed since you’d come back to Gotham and had been forced to attend Halloween parties – nearly everyone you’d encountered was practically obsessed with the celebration – and one of those people was Barbara. So much so, that every year she held a Halloween party and planned it more profusely than you’ve ever seen her do anything else. Her love also came with a heightened scrutiny for your enthusiasm – or lack thereof – for the holiday.

Which was why you were currently sat, dressed in a black boat neck dress with a flimsy witch hat resting on your head as you decimated one of Babs’ rejected Halloween cakes – yet the worst part was that it was currently early December (midterms being pushed back made it impossible to have it in October) and the last thing you’d wanted was to attend this party but Babs had personally threatened to drag you there to complete her and Steph’s wish of doing a group costume.

“It’s only you, you know.” Steph retorts, head cocking to one side and blonde curls hanging over her shoulder, “Now, let’s go, let’s go!”

About three hours later, you’ve found yourself nursing a cup of cheap bar (the number, you’re pretty sure that you’ve lost count of), eyeing a clique of literature students, who are currently in the midst of an argument while you stand in the corner of the room, trying to avoid them recognizing you out of their peripheral vision.

“What’re you doing?”

“What the – “ You quickly turn around to see a tall figure dressed in black staring down at you quizzically, and then you realize that it’s Jason Todd.

“Todd, what the fuck do you want.” You hiss – not at all in the mindset to have a conversation with him at the moment – while trying to remain quiet enough so that you don’t attract any unwanted attention.

“I should be asking you,” He taunts back. “You’re the one sulking around the party and hiding in places.”

You don’t try to reply to his response but offer another front of argument that throws all sensibility of your previous claim of not wanting to fight Jason out of the window.

“I don’t fucking understand, why can’t you just leave me alone?”  

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just trying to talk to you and you’re blocking everyone’s way.”

“Well, I’m not moving. So, they can find another way.”

“Are you fucking serious,” His voice raises. “You’re actually acting like a – “

“Shut up. Will you.” You hiss, pushing both of you further into the corner, so the bi-fold doors hide you better from the view of the group.

“What are you – “

“Morgan and his stupid friends keep trying to argue with me about some shit literature and won’t leave me alone.”

“Why?” There’s an edge to his voice which you pretend not to hear by avoiding his eyes.

“Beats me.”

He falters at the hostility of the comment – or lack thereof and you don’t say anything else but instead move to carefully peer pass the maple doors to scan for the group you’ve been avoiding amongst the mass of people in the room and as soon as you can’t see them you quickly move past Jason, to the to the cantilever staircase, without registering Jason’s footsteps trailing behind yours until you’ve reached the top and the overwhelming music and yelling from the party subdues a little and you let out a breath of relief before you see Jason also reaching the top of the stairs.

“Are you fucking following me?”

“No. Barbara and Stephanie were looking around for you and I was helping them.”

That lessens your anger a little and then confusion settles.

“Why?”

“I wanted to apologise to you.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in and find yourself a little speechless.

“I – I meant why were they were looking for me but go on.”

“Oh,” You think you see his cheeks tint pink a little but with the dim lighting dancing shadows on his face, you’re not sure. “Well, I wanted to say sorry about the last class we had with Gordon.”

He takes a pause to slightly mess with his hair by running a hand through it.

“You were right about Bukowski – I – I don’t know why I said all of that shit.”

Looking back at this moment, you think it’s not your brightest because somehow his rather heartfelt confession falls almost deaf on your ears and somehow the narrative in your mind shifts to something else entirely.

“Is this some sort of joke, Todd?”

“What?”

“Did Morgan put you up to this shit? I know you and I don’t get along but siding with him is real fucking low, you know?”

“I – “

“I can’t fucking believe that you’re listening to all their bullshit and agreeing with them. It’s so – “

“No. What the fuck is wrong with you?” He cuts you off and his voice raises considerably. “I’m trying to fucking apologize to you and all your doing is being a bitch again.”

That silences you, but he continues.

“You know, I’ve tried. I’ve tried everything to understand what I did to fuck up with you, I’ve asked Barbara and Stephanie and – just, fuck, why did I listen to Dick?”

He mutters the last part, but you catch it anyway but still no response forms in your head at all, instead new questions pop-up as Jason runs another frantic hand through his ruined hair before quickly thundering down the stairs, leaving you…

You’re not quite sure what you’re feeling but cold is one of them as you pull the pathetic lace sleeves down your arm to try and warm yourself but nothing happens and maybe you feel your eyes too heavy to keep open as tears brim at the corners.

“Hey – are you okay?”

Babs’ voice causes your head to snap upwards as you watch her quickly scaling the stairs, eyebrows furrowed together, and you offer no response until she reaches the top and extends her arms to pull you into a hug.

“You were right. Halloween really isn’t your holiday.”

“Could you please stay behind for a moment?”

Gordon asks of you as you’re heading out of the hall, and the pit of anxiety resting in your stomach throughout the class, blooms further as you wait on the side until all the hall empties and its just you and Gordon.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, until he finally sighs and looks at you with a hard expression – one you’re all too familiar with from when you were little –

“Concerning Jason,”

You nod. Since your argument two days ago, you haven’t seen him, and the guilt seeped in farther when his spot well behind you remained empty the entire lesson.

“He’s pulled from your partnership.”

“W-what?”

“He came to talk to me, saying that he can’t continue to work with you anymore on any further projects, and the last one I paired you up on should definitively be the last.”

“Sir, I – “

“Look, I don’t like to meddle in the private lives of my students, but this situation is too tiring for me not to say that whatever problem you and Jason have; fix it. I always find both your work fascinating and that goes for the assignment you both submitted before and I simply cannot allow your own vanities to cloud judgment over the fact that you and Jason are paragons at literature and in my books, are too quick-witted to allow this talent to be lost amongst petty arguments.”

“I know, I – “

“So, I hope you’ll resolve this issue before next week’s lesson?”

“I – yes. Yes, I will.”

“Good. You’re dismissed.”

“Can I come in?”

The situation that you’re currently in rolls over you in waves of guilt and anxiety as you stand in front of Jason, in a beige coloured hallway as he idly stands with the apartment door halfway open, hesitant at your words or more so at how you’re standing in front of his apartment with worn boots and a heaving chest. You’d finally taken heed of the advice offered from Gordon, Steph and Babs and even consulted Dick and mulled it over with your own guilt before trekking all the way to his apartment.

“Sure,” His voice sounds removed – apathetic enough that you have to refrain from wincing, as he opens the door further to let you in. “Are you okay?”

You don’t hear him as your boots echo against the hardwood floor as you enter the apartment building and the sudden realization that this is the first time you’ve seen his apartment settles in as you eye the dimly lit space, with books scattered on the coffee – most of them are torn, something you’ve always found a little endearing, though you won’t admit it. The room is an oddly home-y mixture of warm beige's and deep browns that you would’ve kept staring at if he hadn’t called out your name again.

“What?”

“I asked, are you okay? You’re red in the face and panting.”

“Oh, oh, yeah, I walked all the way here and the elevator was out of service, so I used the stairs.”

“Why did you walk, nearly twenty blocks?” He furrows his brows and you let out of a puff of annoyance.

“I – listen, I don’t want to argue with you,” You take a step closer and calm yourself before starting. “You – you were right, I was being a complete and total bitch to you without reason at that party and before that. It’s just – “

You stop, and release a chuckle before awkwardly asking, “I’m gonna need a drink to get through this, do you have any?”

Nearly fifteen minutes later, not as drunk as you need to be, but enough that it gives you courage to finally stop beating around the bush and talk to him so you move to see him also standing facing the open windows to the evening sky, the sun setting against the horizon as dusk settles and you motion for him to sit on the floor as you are and he slowly complies.

“Look, I know I’ve been hostile towards you since – “

“Why?” He interrupts, not looking at you and you sputter a little. “Why have you been so hostile to me.”

“Well, you should know, none of it was your fault – well, not directly.” You sigh.

“College was my chance to start over. You don’t need to know all of the other shit, but I just thought that this whole experience would make everything okay and I wouldn’t need to fight for every single thing in my life just to end up being sub-par. And, it was going great.” You slightly chuckle to try not to choke on your words.

“That was, until you came along with your prodigal capabilities in literature and it felt like everything was falling apart again. Because somehow, suddenly, I wasn’t Gordon’s favourite anymore and I wasn’t at the top of the class – and somehow, I wasn’t enough.” Your voice is a little more choked now as you kept looking forward, even though Jason had started watching you now.

“It just was like my entire belief system just got turned upside down.” You release a breath and let the silence settle after your words.

“Fuck, I just unloaded a crap-ton of shit onto you, and you probably don’t understand any of it. I mean, I’m drunk so I don’t understand either.” You laugh and try not to cry, even though you’re pretty sure you will.

“No, I think I understand sort of, too,” He replies, voice softer than you expected and you’re more surprised to see a small smile gracing his lips. “You’re not completely wrong about the whole belief system thing there, you know, Gordon’s classes meant the same thing to me too and I just wanted to enjoy something without having to fight my way for it but boy, did you make that hard.”

A breathy chuckle escapes you as he stops talking and you both sit in the silence until he pipes up again,

“If we’re trying to mend this whole thing then maybe you should want this back too,” His voice is cryptic as you furrow your brows in confusion and stare at him with a lost expression as he stands up to walk away and disappear into the hallway, out of your sight before quickly returning with something clasped in his hand while you raise an eyebrow at him.

“You dropped this in my car when we were heading back from the party with that whole thing with Anna. Dick found it the next morning and had a whole field day about it.”

In his palm, rests a single earring piece shaped like an olive branch which you thought you’d lost in the chaos of the party and you almost laugh.

“You know, I’m gonna pretend this isn’t too creepy and thank you for giving it back.”

“I was trying to give it back to you but you never wanted to have a single conversation with me so,” You roll your eyes before picking up the earring and hooking it back through your ear even though you didn’t have the other one on.

“Right, I get it, I suck.”

That causes him to laugh as he settles back down again next to you and he doesn’t look at you before saying,

“No, you’re not as annoying as I originally thought.”

You echo a ‘hey’ and lightly punch him and the silence envelopes you both – softly, and there’s a moment of peace you think you’ve both settled in and it feels nice.

le fin

(pt.2 will come)

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

A Deafened Bard (Stephen Strange x Female!Reader) pt. 2

Doctor Strange and y/n confide their tragic backstories in one another. Y/n struggles with her feelings for him.

Trigger warnings: abusive parenting, use of firearms, discussion of death and grief, mention of alcoholism

"On the outside, always looking in

Will I ever be more than I've always been?

Cause I'm tap, tap, tapping on the glass-"

You stopped yourself before you could indulgently belt out the titular lyric.

"Ew, why was I singing that?" You muttered to yourself. "I don't even like that song." 

You knew, subconsciously, that it was because you were trying to avoid what you really wanted to sing. For the first time ever, you had an audience. Someone was paying attention. 

"Love of my life, you've hurt me-"

"Oh, come on, butterfingers." He interrupted. "Love of my Life by Freddie Mercury. Give me something hard." 

"I wasn't aware it was classic rock trivia night." 

"Then why were you staring straight at me while singing?" He smirked. 

"Was I?" You cocked your head, expertly deflecting his implication. "I'm so spaced out I don't even know where I'm looking." 

"It's Freddie Mercury." He insisted.

"Uh, yes and no." You corrected, drawing on your encyclopedic knowledge of Queen from one particularly weird summer in high school. "While Freddie Mercury wrote the song, it was recorded on a Night at the Opera. Which was accredited to the whole band." 

"That's a nitpick," he shook his head. "I'm still right." 

You couldn't wear your heart on your sleeve anymore. You could only distract him with 70s glam rock trivia for so long before he started to notice a pattern. Although a sappy love song was in your heart, you sang the anthem of the depressed theater kid. 

You were staring straight at him, though. But who wouldn't? You studied his features only for artistic inspiration. His sharp jaw and high, high cheekbones were… inspiring. 

You couldn't lie to yourself. You fell and fell hard.

"Butterfingers!" Master Strange called out from the other side of the sanctum. "I need you!" 

You dropped your pencil and pushed yourself out from the chair. "Coming!" 

You followed the voice into his chambers. This was a new development, you thought. Out of respect for his privacy, you'd never dared to snoop around in his bedroom. But this was practically a written invitation. 

The room was spotless. Not a book or a scrap of paper out of place. Nor was there much to look at at all. A handful of picture frames, some magazines from when he was a surgeon, all featuring himself on the cover. 

"Butterfingers!" He called again, as if he knew you were about to snoop.

"I'm here!" You yelled back, eyes wandering around the room. "What do you need?" 

"I left my watch somewhere in the library!" He sounded disproportionately panicked for what was just a minor inconvenience. "I need you to go get it for me." 

"What does it look like?" You asked. 

"It's a $27,000 watch." He snapped impatiently. "It looks like one." 

"Jesus." You cursed.

"Don't give me that shit, [F/N]." He ordered, slamming his fist down against the sink. "Just do what you're goddamn told." 

"Alright, alright!" You put your hands up. "Fine, I'll get it." 

You hurried down the stairs and into the library. On the floor between his favorite chair and a stack of musty old books was a slim, silvery watch with a plain black band.

You picked it up and examined it. Apart from the price tag, was there really any reason for him to be so worried about it? He knew exactly where he left it. Did he have reason to believe it wouldn't be there when he returned? 

All you needed to do was flip it over to get your answer. You read the inscription on the back. 

Time will tell how much I love you -- Christine 

You should have known that his massive ego wouldn’t keep the women away forever. Hell, it certainly didn’t deter you. Much uglier douchebags have gotten far prettier girlfriends than they deserved.

You closed your fingers around the watch and sighed. The fantasy you created for yourself, of slowly, deliberately earning his love was shattered. Christine already beat you to it, it seemed. You tried to smother the part of you that resented this person for her exclusive right to Master Strange's affections. You didn't know her, but you loathed her. And you felt filthy for it.

With a heavy heart, you brought the stupid, criminally expensive little timepiece back to its rightful owner. 

"Here's your all-important watch, master." You mumbled, placing it on the bedside table. 

"I know I told you I would give you space to question things," He said, swiping it from the table and expertly affixing it around his wrist. "But I'd really appreciate it if you didn't question this." 

You tried to sound as non-passive-aggressive as you could. You attempted a more forgiving tone, but you couldn't hide your hurt. "It's fine. I don't care." 

"I didn't mean to get short with you, [F/N]." His voice softened. "I'm sorry. But this watch-" 

"It's fine." You cut him off, peering at the floor. 

"It was a gift." He finished anyway. 

You felt the lump in your throat rising. You knew what the watch represented and you wanted to smash it to pieces. Along with the sting of rejection, you felt the sting of tears in your eyes. "I know. I saw the engraving."

"She died two years ago." He lowered his head. 

Suddenly, all your ill will towards this woman turned into guilt. 

"I'm sorry to hear that." You said. "I can't imagine what it's like to lose someone who loved you so much." 

"She had agreed to come to a speaking engagement with me. As a second chance, and-" Pain wrapped his voice. He closed his hand tightly around the watch and held it close to his chest. "Have you ever been in love before, [F/N]?"

From the way your heart ached, and how easily the thought of never being with him made you cry, you knew the answer. You'd been avoiding speaking it into being thus far, but you couldn't lie to yourself anymore.

"Yes." You whispered. 

"You'll learn soon enough." He muttered. "It only brings more suffering." 

The tears finally breached and you tried to blink them away. You didn't know what emotion was causing them: guilt, shame, contempt, anger, sadness-- they were all present.

"Master Strange, I-" you stuttered, tripping over your breath. "I respect what you've gone through, I really do, but it's not fair to take it out on me." 

"You're right." He conceded. "I'm sorry. Please, go get some sleep.”

You nodded. “Right.” 

You slept as late as you could get away with the next morning. In apprentice terms, that only meant sleeping until eight thirty. Your dailies could wait an extra hour while you laid in bed, feeling like garbage. 

You stumbled down the spiral staircase in your pajamas. No bra, no makeup and no effort. You didn’t even run a brush through your hair. Why try, you thought. Why make an effort for the man who would never see you as anything but the help? 

When you saw the piano, though, you did a full 180.

In the living area was a French cherry baby grand piano that definitely was not there before. You certainly would have noticed it before. You placed your phone on the counter and approached the new addition. 

As if the memories were woven into the very muscles and ligaments of your fingers, you ran down a few octaves of C Major. The keys were smooth as porcelain and the sound that emanated from the instrument was next to heavenly. 

A bright orange post-it note was stuck to the music rack. 

“Love of my Life”, Queen, A Night at the Opera. 1975 

Was this a request, or an admission of wrong? Whatever the case, it made you smile. 

"You weren't being entirely honest with me, Butterfingers." He said, randomly materializing behind you. 

You turned around on the piano bench and looked up at him. "What was I not honest about?" 

"I'm so glad you asked." He sat down on the bench next to you, phone in hand. "Because when you said you used to play piano, you didn't specify you were actually a student prodigy." 

Sure enough, on his phone, he was scrolling through your Instagram. Dozens of videos of a much younger [F/N] playing hundreds of different songs, singing with too many vocal runs and doing so with the entire content of her soul behind the music. 

"Student prodigy is a bit strong." You turned your head to hide your blush. 

He scrolled up and found a picture of a young, zit-faced teenage [F/N] holding an acceptance letter. "Last I checked, Juilliard doesn't give full-ride scholarships to just anyone." 

You covered your face with your hands, smothering an embarrassed smile. "God, please. I'd rather you'd found my OnlyFans." 

He raised his eyebrows. "As tempting as that sounds, I'd still rather hear your explanation on this. Why did you give up on something you loved?"

You looked at him in surprise. "You really want to know?" 

"Well, I told you mine." He playfully nudged you in the side. 

You took a deep breath in. "Well, it was about two years ago, now-”

"Cheers to you, [F/N]!" Your best friend Holly raised her glass of champagne in your direction. "Juilliard ain't gonna know what hit ‘em."

"I'll drink to that." You said, bring your own flute up to your lips and taking a swig. You wretched in disgust as the vile liquid ran down your throat. "Or maybe I won't."

"You're gonna have to get used to it." Holly nudged you with her elbow. "I think most professional musicians are alcoholics."

You narrowed your eyes at her. "I don't think that's right."

"Is too." She smirked. "Conductors are mad strict. Abusive even. Drive musicians to drink all the time."

You laughed. "Is everything you know about the world of music from Whiplash?"

"And The Perfection." She added.

"Thank you, Holly." You said, attempting to take another sip of champagne, purely for dramatic effect. "Very cool."

You felt a pair of hands on your shoulders. "Hi, Holly. Enjoying the party?"

Holly took a step back. "Hey, Mrs. [L/N]. Yeah, it's great."

"I hope you don't mind," Your mom said, her fake nice voice eeking through her clenched teeth. "I need to borrow [F/N] for a few minutes."

Holly's face fell. "Sure. I'll catch up with you later, [F/N]."

Your mother tugged you off to the side. With a stressed huff, she began. "Jason is out in the fields with his ROTC friends."

"And what do you want me to do about that?" You asked, knowing her drunk self couldn't read your sarcastic tone.

"Could you go get him and bring him home?" She said, squeezing your upper arm.

"Are you kidding?" You spat.

"[F/N], he's drunk." She scolded. "Do you want him to get another strike on his record?"

"I don't care." You mumbled under your breath. "Have him call an uber. Hell, let him sleep it off in the field. Not my problem."

"You know what he's like when he's drunk." She rationalized. "He gets rowdy. It had better be you."

You tensed up. "No. Holly and I are going to the French Quarter. I don't have time to babysit Jason."

"Just pick him up on your way there?" She pleaded. "It won't take long."

You knew this wasn't going to stop. "Fine, but this is the last time."

You were both dressed far too well to be trekking through the swampy ass nowhere when you should have been fucking your way through the French Quarter. Luckily for your evening plans, all you needed to do was follow the sound of gunshots.

You slammed the car door shut and Holly followed suit. Finding him was the easy part. The hard part was hauling his drunk ass back home.

"Fun's over, shithead." You announced, heels sinking into the sod as you spoke. You didn't have much trouble projecting over the gunfire and getting their attention.

"Shit, [F/N]?" Jason sputtered, so drunk he could barely keep his head straight.

"Holy shit, I didn't even recognize you in that dress." One of his dumb fuck friends added. He jabbed Jason in the side. "Why didn't you tell me your sister's hot?"

"Buster, I-'' You clenched your teeth. "I don't care if you live or die, but my mom needs me to bring Jason home."

"If you get in the car now, we won't have to use the chloroform." Holly added.

Jason scratched the back of his head with the barrel of his gun, then pointed it at you. "You're gonna have to make me."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" You exclaimed, hitting the deck. "What the fuck, Jason!?"

Jason and his dumbass friends laughed. "You should have seen the look on your face, [F/N]!"

"Put down the fucking gun-" You seethed. "And get in the fucking car."

He lowered the gun and looked like he was going to concede. Just when you thought he would cooperate, he stuck it up again. He keeled over in a fit of laughter when you and Holly panicked again.

"Look at them!" He shouted. "They're so fucking scared!"

You knew out in the middle of the swamp, nobody could hear you scream. So you used it to your advantage.

"Jason, you're going in the car, or under it." You raised your voice. "I will mow your drunk ass down like eight day old roadkill right here in this field and you will be LUCKY if anyone finds your bloated, shit-covered remains before the crocodiles get a whiff of you."

That seemed to get his attention.

"Sorry, boys." He pouted. "You heard her."

He had to 'get you' one final time, though. Only that time, the gun went off. Just centimeters from your ear. You clutched the side of your head, trying to drown out the deafening ringing with your screams.

You vaguely remembered Holly pistol-whipping Jason before loading you into the car to drive you to the hospital, leaving him desolate and drunk in the field.

"It was a one-in-a-million shot." The otolaryngologist tried not to sound impressed at what was clearly some kind of anomaly very few got to witness in a medical career. "When the bullet fired, the gunpowder traveled down your ear canal, burning the cells of your auditory nervous system and... singing your eardrum... clean off."

Your eyes widened. "Off?!"

The doctor lowered her head. "I'm sorry, Miss [L/N]. I'm afraid you'll never return to full hearing again."

You didn't want to kill the messenger. You knew she was only doing her job. "Are you fucking kidding me?!"

"If we could do a tympanoplasty, which, given the condition of the drum, is unlikely-" she began. "There would still be no way to fully repair the hair cells along the ear canal."

You took deep breaths to try and quell your simmering rage. "I'm leaving for Juilliard in three months."

"Hearing aid technology has improved significantly over the last decade." She said, a somewhat hopeful upturn in her voice.

That was when your mother decided to join in on the conversation. "Oh, we can't afford that."

You thought you were going to crush your teeth into bits from how tightly your jaw was clenched in fury. "Take it out of Jason's college fund, then."

"Oh, [F/N]." She said as if you had just told the funniest joke imaginable. "Please. That wouldn't be fair to Jason."

"You can afford to send that blithering idiot to the Citadel." You hissed. "You can afford to buy me a hearing aid so I can play piano."

"Beethoven was entirely deaf." Your mom pointed out. "And he became the greatest composer of all time. It's really just mind over matter, sweetie-"

"Sure, that makes perfect sense!" You plastered on a deranged smile, feeling driven to the brink of madness. "I can repair my destroyed eardrum with the power of positive thinking! Jason gets thirty-five thousand dollars a year to play soldier, but I have to just use my imagination."

She covered her face with her hands as if she was being attacked and went into kicked-puppy mode. "Don't be mad at Jason, [F/N]. He didn't mean to hurt you-"

"Fuck this." You said, releasing all your tension in those two words. "Fuck all of this. I'm tired of you defending that chauvinist asshole. The next time you see me will be when one of us is dead."

"Where are you going?!" She wailed.

You snatched your purse from the table and threw it over your shoulder. "I'm moving out."

“Disgraced at age nineteen?" Master Strange said, leaning back on the piano. "Let me guess, you turned to alcohol to cope?"

"You'd think, but actually no." You shook your head. The tone of the conversation had taken a sharp left turn from sadness to dry, apathetic amusement. "I probably would have if I could have afforded it."

"You missed out." He said. "Drinking a whole bottle of eighty year old scotch was definitely the highlight of my grieving period."

You'd never joined the clauses 'Master Strange' and 'drunk off his ass' in the same sentence before then. It was an odd mental picture for sure. One you needed to see to believe.

"I got desperate." You admitted. "Luckily, New Orleans had a lot to offer someone like me, so I didn't have to go far to find people claiming to have answers. But it was all essential oils, incense, binaural beats-"

"I'm sorry," he cut in. "What kind of dickhead suggests binaural beats to someone with only one functioning ear?"

You threw up your hands. "Right? Doesn't make sense. Anyway, I came across a woman named Mistress Fantina and she pointed me in the right direction. How to heal my body through control of my spirit."

He looked at you with that fascination of the human body characteristic of those in the medical field. "It worked, I assume?"

"I figured it out." You shrugged. "But I got so invested in the Mystic Arts that I forgot all about Juilliard. Became a full-time student. Ever since, I never once thought about returning to my old life."

"I suppose if I'd discovered this world because I had lost, say, my ability to perform surgery, it would be hard to leave it behind and return to the operating room." He thought out loud. Sighing, he closed his hand over his watch. "But no matter how medical science evolves, you can't reverse death."

You let the quiet linger for a moment.