#ignore how sloppy it is it’s literally a doodle | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

charrywoman · 1 year ago

Text

No Amount of Freedom Gets Me Clean.

Part 1

OKAY. IS THIS GOOD?? IS THIS BAD?? I’m returning to my tumblr author era because I had this idea and just had to execute. I THINK IT WILL BE A SERIES BC I HAVE A PLAN?? WOULD ANYONE WANT THAT OR IS THIS A FLOP? LMK! anyway, enjoy:)

A crimson glow spread across your cheeks as he gently swiped at the smudge of chocolate in the corner of your lips. You giggled when he popped his thumb in his mouth and said something corny about how sweet you tasted. The laugh was fake, forced even, and anyone who knew you knew that. Peter knew that. It went unnoticed by him though as you leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, murmuring a thank you.

“You know,” MJ sat down across from Peter and Ned. “I don’t think that angry scowl is going to make Harry’s head spontaneously burst into flames. Unfortunately.”

Peter didn’t bother to look away, shrugging as he said, “Maybe if I stare for just a little bit longer it will.” He was practically squirming in his seat with jealousy. It was torture watching you be so disgustingly but undeniably cute with someone like Harry freaking Osborn, but Peter told himself that he deserved it, so he kept watching.

MJ didn’t even have time to quip back because in the next second Peter was furiously whispering that you were walking toward them and demanding her and Ned act casual. She rolled her eyes. “You’re literally the one being a weirdo.”

“Hi, MJ. Hi, Ned.” You smiled, purposely ignoring Peter while emptying your lunch tray into the trash can beside their table. Three weeks ago Peter insisted that he, MJ, and Ned start sitting at the specific table.

It was weird for everyone to see you and Peter at such odds. The two of you had always been inseparable. Where there was you, there was Peter. It had been that way since you and your mom moved next door to Peter when you were 6-years-old. May called you “her Peter’s saving grace.” You came into Peter’s life just after he moved in with her and Ben, and she says that it was his friendship with you that made him blossom. And then came Ned. And then MJ. The four of you just made sense, but most of all, so did you and Peter.

You laid upside down on Peter’s bed while kicking your legs back and forth in the air, flipping aimlessly through a comic book that was already there.

“Wow. They’re really generous when illustrating your ass. It is definitely not that big in person.” You held out the page next to Peter’s own body and pretended to compare the two. “What are you doing reading comic books about yourself anyw-” Peter snatched the comic book from your hands.

“Heeeyyy,” you playfully whined, “I was just getting to the good part. You were about to share a passionate kiss with the girl whose cat you rescued from a tree. What a hero.”

Peter rolled his eyes, “You’re so annoying.” He sat down on the bed next to you, and you maneuvered your body to mirror his position.

“Yeah,” you agreed, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning over to press a sloppy, dramatic kiss to his cheek. “But you looovvveee me.”

You pulled away from Peter but left your head resting on his shoulder, and he instinctively laid his cheek against your crown.

“Yeah, you’re right. I do.”

Mr. Cobbwell was background noise as you doodled hearts and stars and flowers all over your notebook page. Chemistry used to be your favorite part of the day, it was the only class that you, MJ, Ned, and Peter all had together. Now, you dreaded it.

“Isn’t that right, Ms. Y/L/N?”

You looked up from your notebook paper for the first time since class started. “Uh, I’m sorry. What was the question? I was-”

Cobbwell cut you off with a sigh. “Don’t forget about seeing me after class, okay?”

You nodded and pretended to pay attention for a few minutes to satisfy him before going back to drawing. After Cobbwell called you out it felt like time was going by agonizingly slow. When the bell finally rang, you let go of breath you didn’t know you were holding.

As if it weren’t awkward enough, only you and Peter were left in the classroom when you walked up to Cobbwell’s desk.

“You wanted to see me?” You asked, toying with the strap of your backpack.

“Yes,” He sat back in his chair. “I want to talk about your grades, Y/N. What’s going on? You’ve dropped two letter grades since September, and you’re on the way to dropping another considering you failed the last exam. You went from being my top student to barely qualifying to be in AP Chemistry.”

You lowered your head awkwardly. It was silent between the two of you for a few moments as you thought of something to say.

“So,” Cobbwell continued. “That’s why I’ve assigned you a tutor. If you complete the 6-week assistance course and your improvement is evident on the next exam, then I’ll be willing to give you enough extra credit to keep you from entirely failing the course. But the grade you get at the end of the semester is totally up to you. No more favors. Sound good?”

“Mr. Parker,” Cobbwell waived Peter over to his desk. Both you and Peter stood in shock as you realized what was happening. “Peter is going to be your tutor for the next 6 weeks. The two of you used to be my dynamic chemistry duo. I want to see that again!”

This can’t be happening.

“Mr. Cobbwell, when you said you needed me to tutor one of your students I didn’t realize that,” Peter paused for a moment trying to find the right words. “Um. I didn’t realize you meant Y/N.”

“Is that an issue, Peter? I asked you to help a student who is struggling in Chemistry, and you said yes. Are you not capable of making good on your word? Do I need to find someone else for the job?” Cobbwell was lecturing now, attempting to make Peter feel guilty.

“No. No, it’s fine. I can do this.” Peter said as he turned to look at you. “We can do this.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Great!” Cobbwell clapped his hands together. “Then, get to studying! Y/N has plenty to catch up on.”

The frame of your body was shrinking as you hurried ahead of Peter in the hallway. He was out of breath when he finally caught up to you at your locker.

“You’re failing chemistry?” Peter asked, concerned. You avoided his question and continued shoving books in your lockers

“Hey,” Peter grasped your arm just as it was about to dive back into your backpack. For the first time in four months, you looked back at him. His heart was beating impatiently against his chest like it was waiting for him to pour out every thought and feeling he had since the last time you spoke to him.

Your face softened for a moment and Peter took that as his cue to continue. “Talk to me, Y/N. You’re failing chemistry? That’s not like you. You love chemistry. And you definitely love being better than me at it.”

You pulled your arm away from him. “It’s not a big deal, Peter.” You shut your locker door. “Look, let’s just get this over with and do what we have to do for the next 6 weeks. This doesn’t change anything between us.”

Peter nodded. Deep down he had already known that, but a small part of him hoped that just maybe it was going to change things.

Behind Peter, you noticed Ned and MJ walking toward the two of you with confused faces. “I’ll be at your place at 7 tonight. May still has dinner at 6 sharp, right? So, you’ll be ready by then. Great. See ya.” You didn’t even give Peter time to answer before you turned your back to him to catch up with Harry and his friends.

Peter was still watching you walk away when Ned and MJ reached him.

“Um. What was that about?” Ned asked.

“I think I’m Y/N’s tutor?”

Peter thought if he ignored the clock that time would go by quicker. He has spent the last half hour toying with the food on his plate, not daring to take a bite. He was nervous, but he wasn’t sure why. It was just Y/N, Peter had told himself. That’s just it, though. It was you. Peter felt like he had been given a second chance to fix things with you, and he wouldn’t mess it up this time. He was desperate.

Peter groaned when he looked at the clock again and only 3 minutes had passed.

“Okay,” May sat her own fork down to her plate. “What’s up?”

Peter hadn’t told her yet. He didn’t know how. “Hey, I know it’s been four months since Y/N last came over and then disappeared with little to no explanation at all for either of us, but she’s going to be here in 15 minutes!” May would just make a big deal of it and he didn’t need that right now.

As if on cue, two knocks came from the door. May looked at Peter quizzically, as if to say “Who could that be?” But Peter knew.

May opened the door. “Y/N?” She engulfed you in a tight hug. “Y/N! Peter it’s Y/N! Y/N is here. What are you doing here? We’ve missed you so much haven’t we, Peter? You know what, I’m going to go whip up a batch of those cupcakes you and Peter have always loved. The ones that are made with cookie dough instead of cake batter? I can’t believe this! Come in, come in!” May didn’t really give you much of a choice though since she was already pulling you inside.

“Actually, May, um..Peter and I have some studying to do tonight.”

“Oh. Oh, that’s fine, honey. It’s too late for sweets anyway. I’m always getting ahead of myself.” The disappointment in her voice made you feel guilty. You avoided her gaze, shifting back and forth on your feet as an attempt to no seem awkward.

Peter was fast to change the subject saying, “We’ll be in my room if you need us.”

A familiar flutter erupted in your chest when Peter opened his bedroom door. Star Wars bedsheets. Comic books. Action figures. Video games. Superhero posters. This was the best side of Peter, all the greatest parts of him splattered throughout his room like a trophy on display. There had been a time when all of it was just for you. Only you were special enough to know and love the Peter that lived behind these walls.

Your mom was out of town for a business trip, so you were spending the weekend with Peter and Aunt May. It wasn’t uncommon for you and Peter to have a sleepover. May had been babysitting you overnight practically since the first day you moved next door.

Peter was sitting at one end of his bed and you were at the other.

“Okay,” you tossed a piece of popcorn into your mouth. “Who are you crushing on right now?”

Peter went stiff. He had been crushing on the same girl since he was 8-years-old. “Um. No one really. I don’t really have my eye on anybody.”

“Ugh, Pete. You’re so boring!”

“Okay, fine. Who are you crushing on?”

A shy smile crept across your face. “I don’t know. Well, I guess if I had to pick, I kind of think Brad Davis is cute.”

Peter pretended to gag himself. “Brad Davis? You’re way better than that.”

You rolled your eyes at him, throwing the pillow in your lap at his head. “You’re probably right. Brad has definitely kissed like tons of girls, and I haven’t even kissed one boy! Isn’t that embarrassing? I’m 14, and I haven’t had my first kiss yet.”

“Well, I haven’t had my first kiss either.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Should we just get it over with?”

Peter nearly choked on his own tongue. “W-what do you mean?”

“Peter, I mean should we just kiss each other and get our first kiss over with!” You explained like it was the most casual idea in the world.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Peter agreed.

You crawled up the bed until you were sitting right in front of him.

“So, how should we…?” Peter trailed off.

You laid your palm against Peter’s cheek and brushed your thumb back and forth a few times. You secretly praised your mom for making you sit down and watch all of those cheesy rom-coms with her. It made you feel prepared. Peter’s face was hot to the touch because he was blushing.

He was watching you innocently yet also so intensely. Before this, you couldn’t remember a time when you and Peter had been so intimate. You closed your eyes and pressed your lips against his. Kissing Peter felt natural. It felt like something you could do forever.

The kiss only lasted a few minutes before the door swung open. “Do you guys want to order piz- OH NO. MY EYES.”

After that, May decided that Peter had to sleep on the couch whenever you stayed over.

You were still basking in nostalgia when you sat down beside Peter at his desk.

“Do you want to start with atomic structure?” Peter asked. “It was covered in the beginning of the new unit, and I’m sure it will be on the next test.”

You ignored him, picking up a picture frame on the side of his desk. It was a picture of you and Peter on Halloween. You were both 10 and obsessed with Mario Kart. You begged your parents to let you dress up as Mario and Princess Peach.

“I can’t believe you still have this. I remember we ate too many gummy worms that night and May told us that we had gummy butterflies growing in our stomachs and we cried.” You laughed. It was the first time Peter heard you laugh in so long. It made him smile.

You looked back up at him. For a moment, there was a sense of normalcy between the two of you as you smiled at each other.

“Y/N, I-”

You cut him off. “Yeah, so atomic structure, right?”

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #tom holland #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker x you #spiderman #spiderman imagine

89 notes · View notes

pavitrsgf · 1 year ago

Text

small word nonsensical vomit about miles and hobie (PLATONIC.) wc: 1,165

it was a few months after uncle aarons death. his funeral had been held and his grave had been dug. miles could barely hold himself together, he didn’t have time to properly grieve him. he got caught up in having to literally save everybody that he didn’t realize he couldn’t process his uncle’s death properly.

when it’s a quiet afternoon, gwen, pavitr and hobie drop by, it’s been happening quite a bit. offering miles company when they could, when they were free of spiderman duties. he appreciated them a lot, an awful lot, which is why when he’s alone, he feels a deep ache bloom in his chest.

it sits in his sternum and flows through his ribcage, an immaterial feeling inside. he doesn’t know how to deal with it, how to ignore it. so he does what he always does to let out his feelings: spray paint.

for miles, it hurt too much to go back to that place, but he figured there was nowhere else where he could not so legally paint a wall, (who was he kidding? it hurt so much, but the good memories there helped him comfort himself. he can’t admit that to anyone outside of his brain, it sounds sad and his teenage brain can’t handle it.)

he grabs his spray cans and runs off, yelling out a quick “bye!” to his mom and rushing (for what? he silently asks) to the underground wall.

as he walks through, he feels like wanting to cry. how did it hurt worse after he died? shouldn’t it have hurt him more in the moment? why is the ache getting worse? he asks, but there are no answers for him. he just wants to see his face again.

as he reaches the wall, he begins immediately. it’s sloppy, it’s rushed. he doesn’t care, he’s just putting on colors, it can be fixed later. though, he gets caught up on the mistakes. his feelings of incompetency from when he first started as spiderman creeping up and blending with the unknown and hurtful ache. he knows, deep down, this doesn’t have to do with his skills as spiderman, but his irrationality rears its ugly head and connects the two.

he berates himself for it, for everything. for everyone who di—

“oi, mate, you up to any barney rubble today?” hobie’s smile is heard through his thick accent that cuts through the air, effectively shocking miles enough to almost drop the can he was holding.

miles then turns around to say something, but his heart is stuck in his throat and he merely chuckles and sends a quick wave his way. his focus has been deterred now, no matter how much he tries, his hand cannot stop shaking and he cannot spray more paint for some reason.

hobie’s brow raises at his silence, miles is usually never ending with his teasing at hobie’s “language” and accent, with his nonsensical quips and jokes. a non stop rabbiter, if you asked hobie.

“d’you need any company, china plate?” he asks softly and miles shakes his head yes and continues splattering on random colors and making obscure shapes. he doesn’t know what he’s making.

the taller man decides to drop the talking, while he absolutely loves a good rabbit and pork with his mates, it’s clear miles is not currently in the headspace for one. (or here emotionally at all, his mind seems blank and far from here.)

hobie steals some cans off the floor and starts on making a portrait of himself (as he’s working on his nose, he hears a chuckle and a snort from beside him, it paints a smile on his face)

hobie’s exceptionally more experienced than miles is at spray painting, he’s done his best (not really, just lightly put some work into it) to make himself with some doodles around and checks up on how miles is doing. he seems to have a struggle reaching the top of his drawing. while miles has been growing, he hasn’t quite reached at the height he’s currently attempting to paint.

hobie silently walks over and grabs miles, putting him on his shoulders with ease to help him reach the top of his drawing and guiding miles on how to make his drawing look dynamic. he’s in the middle of explaining a technique that helped him in the past when he feels a tear on his hand.

drip splash. drip splash. drip splash.

for a second, he questions if either of them are sweating hard and should take a break before they catch heat exhaustion, when he realizes that these drops are not sweat. he looks up and miles’ head is bowed down, looking to the side and tears streaming down his face. he refuses to make eye contact with hobie.

he worries he’s done something wrong, maybe he was too harsh? he knew sometimes he can be a bit blunt and annoying, but maybe he should’ve toned it down a bit.

“hey, mate, i’m sorr—“ he begins, but is cut off by miles’ voice, filled with tears.

“no, no, man. you’re fi—ne” his voice cracks at the word fine, a hiccup coming through right after. his hands frantically wipe against his face and he feels fucking mortified. sure, miles was a soft kid and had no problems showing his feelings, he was kind, but that didn’t mean it felt any less embarrassing to be caught crying in front of one of your biggest fucking role models.

hobie sets miles down and quickly, miles wonders if he’s scared hobie off. he knows that hobie would never do that, but right now he is sensitive and logic is not driving his brain.

hobie does not know what to fucking do. he hasn’t made a kid cry before (he has, he definitely has),

he doesn’t know what to do so he does the most familiar thing he knows, hugs.

he hugs miles tightly and rubs his hand up and down gently to calm him. and miles just lets go. hobie had reminded him so, so much of his uncle. he could not handle it, he can’t. he misses his uncle. he misses peter parker. he misses the life he had before. it’s not alright, not yet. that’s why when hibie connects the dots as to why miles is sobbing, he doesn’t say anything. he knows when words are helpful and when they aren’t. right now, he can bask in his hurt. he can heal later, he has all the time in the world. he cannot skip this crucial moment.

bonus:

when hobie brings the rest of the teen spider gang to miles’ painting site, they are shocked at the murals that cover the walls. it’s them. all of them. separate portraits, some have all four of them, some have different combinations of the four. but it’s them nonetheless. and when miles sees their faces, he knows he is not alone in this. he knows he can move past this.

#miles morales & hobie brown #miles morales #hobie brown #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv hobie #atsv miles #sorry i had this idea and i couldn’t get rid of it #miles and hobie siblings.. so real to ME #i love them so bad ;( they’re my babies

2 notes · View notes

yoonpobs · 4 years ago

Text

together | myg

pairing: min yoongi x singlemother!reader

genre: fluff, very soft fluff, domesticity

words: 5, 007

summary: min yoongi is a good man but even a better father ... figure

“Baby … what did we say about boundaries?” You crouch down to reach Jihoon’s eye level and the mini you—as said by your friends—simply ignores your oncoming lecture by staring at his feet.

“Limits …” He mumbles softly and all you want to do is hug him and tell him he can do no wrong but motherhood is tough despite all the online blogs telling you that they’re with you. You loved your baby, you really did—but God decided to fuck with you by making him the reflection of yourself when you were younger and you heard nightmarish stories from your parents from when you were growing up.

You run your hand over his hair soothingly because as much as he was like you, he was still only two years old and his own person, fluff and bread arms. You knew not to restrain him with furrowed brows or raised voices but instead with the patience your parents always taught you to have and the compassion that you wished you were naturally blessed with. But life had a funny way of taking away things from you.

Well—your ex-husband was never really taken from you—he left you, and instead of feeling shambled and distraught you were made of such resolve that you merely blinked when he packed his bags after he said he was cheating on you. The only sweat you broke was realising that Jihoon was only three months old when his dad left without sparing him another glance.

But your baby grew up and so did you. Your job at office paid well enough for you to live comfortably with Jihoon and hire nannies to look after him whenever you couldn’t; even though you tried your best to always be with him so he wouldn’t grow up resenting an absent mother. But you worried like anyone else would because while your friends and family would say you were doing an impeccable job, your self-sabotaging tendencies nagged at yourself by saying that he needed a male figure in his life.

He mumbles a soft apology, so respectful with his big eyes and you smile at him. You knew he meant no harm when storming into your office and scrambling off with important documents because he was still impressionable and curious about nearly everything. Your heart dropped when you realised your reports were pretty much incoherent with the way he doodled over them but you knew not to blame him.

“Forgiven Hoon.” You kiss his forehead.

His eyes turn into tiny slits with his toothless smile and your heart clenches at the little human you created and love dearly.

“Love you mama.” He plants a sloppy kiss on your cheek before waddling off to his playpen where his toys are laid neatly. If there was anything he inherited from you; it’d be your meticulous tendencies.

You sigh, leaning into the wall of your kitchen as you watch Jihoon with fond eyes as he plays with his dolls and figurines, dressing them in dresses and pants just like how you taught him that gender had no look and that everyone was different. Obviously, explaining the concept of social constructs to a two-year-old is not a conversation any parent would have with their child but you believed that these fundamental core values of humanity were important to his growth into his toddler stages and eventually adulthood.

“I can’t believe you squeezed that cutie out of your vagina.” Taehyung snorts, sneaking up behind you and you don’t flinch because you’re way too used to his unwanted comments and sudden appearances.

“I am 90% cute so it’s only right that my child inherits that from me.” You retort, eyes still trained on your baby boy.

Taehyung looks over at Jihoon who directs a mini-play of a loving family, and your heart is still sad at the prospect of his adolescent years only being with you.

“You know … hyung is asking about you,” Taehyung says and you immediately still in your position, hands freezing in your pockets because you know exactly who he’s referring too and you weren’t exactly ready for that conversation, especially with your older brother.

“He says he misses Hoonie.”

You sigh, turning your head to face your older brother and you can only muster enough emotion to look fine with his statement but you simply looked constipated with the way your face scrunches up.

“We’ve been busy …” You mutter.

“Jihoon is two-years-old and the only thing he’s busy with is trying not to give you a heart attack every time he nearly runs into the wall and you literally work from home now that your boss is some progressive liberal that tries a new system every two days,” Taehyung says dryly, pinning you with a deadpan.

“Stop offending me by insulting my son!” You whine.

“That’s my nephew too.” He rolls his eyes as you punch him in the shoulder.

“That has a name and it’s Jihoon you bitch.”

“Mama said beech?” Jihoon tilts his head in a curious manner and your expression morphs into one of mortification as Taehyung cackles in response.

“Stop. Laughing.” You hiss but it’s no use because your brother has never once listened to anything you had to say throughout the last twenty-nine years of your life.

“You—” Your snide is cut short by rapt knocks on your door, and you see Taehyung’s grin widen. You know that look intimately because it’s the expression he wears before he pisses you off or embarrasses you.

“He’s here!” He sounds delighted as he skips towards the door. You want to pull his back by his collar to ask him what the fuck he was talking about but he’s quick with his hands and the door is open. Your mouth falls and you nearly get whiplash with the way that you stare at your guest.

“Y-Yoongi.” He was possibly the last person you wanted to see and you had no idea what he was doing at your apartment at night on a weekday.

Then you see Taehyung’s pleased expression and put two-and-two together.

“___, hey. Taehyung said you needed help with Hoon tonight?” He offers a tilt of his lips because Yoongi was not an expressive man by any means. But that didn’t mean he didn’t have a good heart; that was far from the truth of the enigma that was Min Yoongi.

He was a good person and an even better friend. Although the two of you had tip-toed on the line between friends to something more than that, he never explicitly said anything about his interests to you. And you didn’t want to pressure him by saying anything because even though he was in his thirties and still very much single with a stable job as a surgeon at the top hospital, a two-year-old son is rarely what a man that appealing ever wants when looking for a relationship.

That was why you stopped replying to his texts or inviting him over to hang out with Jihoon anymore because Jihoon adored him so much and your poor heart couldn’t bear to see the two boys interact without an ugly flower called hope bloom in your chest. He only ever knew who you were because he and Taehyung were co-workers and probably only tolerated you by association.

You loved Jihoon and wanted the best for him. Even if that was Min Yoongi—you needed to protect your heart too.

“I did?” You tilt your head and Yoongi automatically notices the habit that you and Jihoon share. Taehyung is somehow next to you already and you know that because he stomps on your foot and shoots you a glare when you hiss.

“I did.” You cough.

“Mama?” Jihoon peeks his head through the divider between the kitchen and the common area, and his eyes immediately light up when he sees Yoongi hovering by the entrance.

“Yoongi!” He squeals as he speeds as fast as he can with his little feet towards the man in his scrubs who shoots your son with his gummy smile.

“Hey, buddy.” He picks your son up effortlessly and you know you’re staring but you rarely ever see men who are this patient let alone this good with children.

“Close your lips,” Taehyung whispers into your ear.

“I’m—that’s not what was happening …” You mumble, a blush appearing on your cheeks as you look away from the hugs and kisses that Yoongi gives Jihoon.

“I meant your other ones.” Your brother says dryly.

“Kim Taehyung—!” Your arms are already reaching for his neck to strangle him but Yoongi calling your name snaps you out of your anger.

“Have you eaten dinner yet?”

Your head snaps to Yoongi who now has Jihoon on his hip while he plays with the material of his scrubs. You hate how your heart flutters at the domesticity of the question and how Yoongi looks so much like a father to your son and a husband in your home.

You realise the dangerous daydream you’re falling into and shake your head to snap out of it before you hurt yourself even more.

“Us? No, we haven’t. Tae and I were planning to order in at our favourite place.” You tell Yoongi with a small smile.

You see the hint of a frown marring on his face but it goes as quick as it comes as he stalks towards you.

“Actually—” Taehyung cuts in before Yoongi can say anything, “—I have a … thing.”

He points his thumb towards the door and you curse him in your head so much that you hoped sibling telepathy was a thing so he could hear what you felt about him right now.

“You … do?” Yoongi asks.

Taehyung shrugs, as ambiguous as ever before ruffling Jihoon’s hair and offering a fist bump and a kiss before he approaches your door.

“Taehyung—” You grit.

“Bye, buddy! Yoongi.” He acknowledges the two other boys but not you and you know it’s because while Taehyung loved to annoy you, he knew you were a handful and quite literally the spawn of satan when you were angry and you weren’t just angry but livid.

“Get back here—!” And he’s gone before you know it, and even Jihoon mumbles a soft bye Tae samchon after he’s gone.

You sigh, resting your head against the frame of the door that was now shut in your face, stuck in your own house with the man that you’ve been helplessly pining over that looks way too at home with the way Jihoon plays with the softness of his black hair.

You turn around, closing your eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

When you open them, Yoongi has an eyebrow raised, placing Jihoon on his high-chair. And you don’t know why you found that act so hot but you couldn’t even set your own son down into that chair without him making a fuss but he only giggled cheekily when Yoongi did so.

“What for?”

He doesn’t sound angry, just genuinely confused. You purse your lips and walk towards Jihoon who was simply babbling to himself and grab a cloth to wipe at the appearance of a new stain on his shirt which you suspect he got from his playtime earlier, and you internally groaned at the fact that he probably found some food and decided that it would be a good addition to his play family.

“I know it’s really busy at the hospital this time around and Taehyung basically scammed you here … with us.” You fiddle with your fingers after you pick up a toy on the floor and pass it to Jihoon to keep him occupied as you have a much more … adult-esque conversation with Yoongi. While you made it clear to Jihoon that he didn’t necessarily have a father in his life because you owed him that much, you tried to steer far from conflict and turmoil so he wouldn’t have to grow up knowing only the lows of life.

Yoongi just … stares. And it’s unnerving because you could barely read the man in general and he was looking at you with a blank expression that only causes your anxiety to settle further into your bones. You’re thinking of about a million different ways to apologise or to spontaneously combust so you could save yourself from the scrutiny of Yoongi’s eyes. But before you can say anything and embarrass yourself, even more, he speaks.

“Do you think I don’t enjoy spending time with the two of you?” He frowns, and that’s the most expressive you’ve seen him throughout your entire friendship with the man. The fact that the first time he’s ever shown any explicit emotion around you is one of … disappointment … only makes you realise how far out of his league you were.

“N-No!” You shake your head, flustered at his tone. When you look at him, his face is much softer; a type of expression that shows longing but you aren’t quite sure why it’s there.

“It’s just … you’re busy, Yoongi. You’re a hotshot doctor at the best private healthcare facility in the city and you’re here spending the last night before the weekend with some pathetic single mom who still—by the way—can’t decide on how to brush my teeth just because it doesn’t feel right.”

Yoongi blinks at you, then he looks over at Jihoon and you’re confused for a second because it seems like he’s dismissing your mini ramble, but instead, he reaches out to Jihoon’s hand and bends down so he can look Jihoon straight in the eye.

“Hey, bud?” He calls out to Jihoon and your son looks at Yoongi with all the stars in his eyes.

Your heart softens at the interaction and notices how the way Jihoon doesn’t pull away when Yoongi reaches out to carry him in his arms again.

“Yoongi!” He squeals, squeezing the man’s cheeks between his chubby fingers and you can’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm and the way that Yoongi resembles a cat.

“I need to ask you something.” He whispers as if it were only the two of the room and you stand on the opposite of them with your arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

Your son bobs his head up and down in agreement as he waits for Yoongi to ask him his question.

“Yoongi …” You trail off but he pays you no mind.

“Do you love your mama?” The question surprises you and your mouth opens and closes, and your emotions are all over the place because the question makes you feel nearly inadequate. The way that he asks the question prompts you to wonder if it seemed like what you were doing for Jihoon just wasn’t enough.

“What is this even about?” You snap, eyes narrowed at Yoongi but he still ignores you.

Jihoon nods his cute little head eagerly without a moment of hesitation after Yoongi asks his … what you would say—preposterous question.

“I love mama with all my heart. She’s the best!” Jihoon giggles into Yoongi’s shirt as he leans his head against his chest. You don’t know why his words make you choke up when he tells you he loves you every day but the reassurance that your son does indeed love you makes you feel like you can do anything. It was also probably the fact that you noticed Yoongi smiling fondly between the two of you.

“Do you think she’s pathetic, Hoonie?” He throws your words to your son and you scowl at Yoongi who is still keeping his act of ignoring you very much alive.

“Pathedic?” Jihoon tilts his head again and you almost coo at the slight lisp he has when he asks.

Yoongi chuckles warmly and offers you a small smile as if to tell you that you’d see soon enough before repeating himself to your son.

“Bad.” Yoongi settles.

Jihoon gasps in his tiny little way and frowns, looking over at you with a cute crumpled expression that makes your heart swell even more. The urge to hold your son increases tremendously but you were still confused and curious as to what Yoongi was getting at.

“No no no! Mama is the best, didn’t you hear?” Jihoon squabbles.

You bite your lip to refrain from smiling so wide and choke back the tears that well up.

“Mama always cooks yummy food and never yells at me! I always see other mama’s yelling at their babies but mama … mama loves me too, right?” He rambles off and you sniffle.

“Love you a lot, Hoon.” You say from a distance and Jihoon is satisfied with your answer.

You turn to look at Yoongi and sigh.

“What is this about, Yoongi?” You sound stern and he acknowledges that. He knows the situation is much more serious than what he perceives but he can’t help but observe how the furrow of your brows resembles a squirrel. The comparison makes him want to laugh because you were so cute even when you were angry.

“I have one more question.” He tells you.

You don’t say anything but watch the way he leans in closer to Jihoon with eyes more serious than you’ve seen before.

“You want to see mama happy?” Yoongi whispers so softly that you almost miss it.

Jihoon nods.

“Of course. Mama always makes me happy. But she looks … lonely.” Jihoon frowns a little and you can’t help but have a tear fall. Your baby boy was young but observant and had a heart of pure gold. You didn’t need anyone but Jihoon but—

“What do you think if she gave you a papa?” Yoongi asks and the question stills your entire body. You don’t even see the way Jihoon lights up at the proposition and you also miss the way Yoongi looks over at you once to gauge your reaction.

“Will you be my papa Yoongi?” The question is what snaps you out of your reverie to realise the situation you were in and the allusion of Jihoon’s question.

“Jihoon! You can’t just—say sorry.” You squeak but Jihoon doesn’t pay you any mind because his attention is all on Yoongi who is smiling as wide as he possibly can.

“Only if your mom says yes, Hoonie. If only she knew how much I liked her.” He tells Jihoon but he’s looking at you. Your eyes are wide at the confession and your hands fall limp by your side; not knowing how to respond to Yoongi’s sudden confession.

It wasn’t anything spectacular, and it didn’t cause butterflies to erupt like it was in the movies but the confession was so wholeheartedly Yoongi that you felt so … comfortable. A surprising yet welcoming emotion.

Jihoon looks over to you but you’re looking at Yoongi who looks at you with soft eyes.

“Say yes mama!”

Yoongi stands up from his position to walk over to your frozen state until your hands rest on his chest unconsciously. He looks down at you as his arms wrap around your waist to pull you flush against his body. You blush and avoid his stare when he tries to catch your eyes. You know Jihoon is watching and that makes you feel all the more flustered. It was like you were back in high school and you were ‘canoodling’ behind your parents’ backs.

“Y-Yoongi …” You try to push him away but he reaches his hands to wrap them around your own.

“I’m sorry but you can’t run away from me this time ___.” He teases.

You flush and look away.

“I wasn’t … running …” You mutter.

He chuckles and shakes his head that you feel strands of his hair against your forehead when he leans in closer to connect your forehead with his own.

“Okay.” He agrees. He doesn’t put up a fight and you hate how even when you’re the one that’s flustered he can make you feel … safe. Calm.

“I like you, dumbass. I would go as far to say that I’m in love with you but I know how scared you get so let’s settle for the baby steps first, yeah?” He says so casually that your eyes bulge out of your eye sockets comically.

“You c-can’t just …” You blubber, “Say that!”

Yoongi scoffs.

“I like you Kim ___.”

You punch him in the chest but he doesn’t even flinch.

“No you don’t …” You whisper.

You don’t look at him but you can feel his frown.

“And who are you to tell me how I feel?”

You sigh.

“Yoongi … I don’t know if you heard what I said earlier but you’re … you … and I’m just some other girl that you know because of Taehyung and I’m a mother of a two-year-old. You could literally be with anyone you wanted and I just … you don’t like me. You just—can’t.” You exasperate.

He frowns at you, forcing your chin up to look at him with his index finger. You burn even redder at how close you were.

“I love you. I love Jihoon. And you need to get out of your pretty little head because I don’t want to be with anyone but you. I don’t know where you’re getting this weird picture of me being with anyone I want because I don’t want anyone. I want this—I want in, in this little family.”

You feel yourself choke up, and Yoongi notices so he holds you closer until your head is against his chest.

“I’m emotionally constipated half the time I interact with anyone but you just … you make me feel alive and things that I generally don’t feel on a daily basis. You and Hoon are the only things that keep me going with all the surgeries and stuff. I’m in love with you and it’s all your fault and Hoonie wants you to be happy as much as I do—so please: stop running.”

“Why are you running mama?” Jihoon asks and you remember your son is watching it all.

You flush but don’t move from Yoongi’s grasp. He thinks of this as a step forward because all you do is turn your head to look at Jihoon and offer him a smile through your tears.

You and Yoongi hear Jihoon’s whine and you see him reach his arms towards you as a gesture for you to carry him.

“Mama why are you crying!” He cries.

You feel Yoongi release you and you immediately reach out to Jihoon like it was second nature because it was. Jihoon was the only thing that kept you going when people would give you odd stares as a single mother especially when you were starting to look into preschools for your son. All the superiors would question your legitimacy and income when you were earning more than the average working man. You were always very particular about who you allowed into Jihoon’s life because he was young and got attached easily. But Yoongi made it so … easy. Just like he was that missing piece in both your and Jihoon’s lives.

“I’m okay bubs.” You kiss Jihoon on his cheeks as you hold back your tears.

“Don’t cry, mama.” Jihoon frowns and puts his thumbs between your furrowed brows just like you would always do when he was starting to sulk. You chuckle and hold your son closer to your chest, feeling all the more comforted.

“I’m serious about this ___ …” Yoongi steps closer to you and wraps an arm around you and Jihoon and the action feels so utterly domestic. You feel safe and content within his grasp.

“Yoongi …” You look up at him through your eyelashes and Yoongi has always been entranced with your beauty. It was never just about how beautiful you looked when you were a mother to Jihoon but the energy you carried around you was contagious and he’s immediately lightened up in your presence. He was patient with you because he knew you were serious about Jihoon and that he was your number one priority.

“No, please … listen to me ___.” He cups your cheeks while Jihoon is looking between the two of you with keen interest.

“I know you’re scared because of Jihoon and that’s valid. But I don’t want you to think that you’re not enough for me for superficial reasons because the truth is I probably won’t ever be enough for you and you’re here being the woman of my dreams. I respect your decision if you aren’t ready for a relationship and I won’t push you but I want you to know that I’m not going anywhere just because we aren’t together because I rather have you next to me as a friend than lose out on you forever.”

You had always been a crybaby and Taehyung was probably the reason why you cried all the time as children since he always had been the more rambunctious one between the two of you while you were far timider. But Yoongi knew that under all the times you shed tears because you were touched is a strong-willed woman that could withstand nearly anything in this world if it were for her son.

“And I know that I’m not over my head thinking this but … you want me too and it’s okay if you do but you don’t want a relationship. I respect you as a person, a woman and the mother of Jihoon. I just don’t want you to push me away.” He whispers so softly when he looks into your eyes.

“Mama …” Jihoon whines and you look down at him for a moment when he gives you a glare that doesn’t look so intimidating because of his bread cheeks.

“Yoongi is fun! Can he be our daddy?” You know his choice of words didn’t necessarily entail that context for you in particular but you blush anyway because he was just two. Yoongi senses your flustered state but squeezes your cheeks in between his hands and you feel coddled. It was a new feeling, one that was almost unfamiliar with how long you’ve been deprived of a significant other’s touch.

“I—Yoongi … I really don’t know what to say …” You mumble.

Yoongi smiles at you, comforting and homey all at once because Yoongi was a lot of things but never pushy.

“You don’t have to say anything. I don’t know if you realised this but I’m basically Hoon’s dad whether you like it or not because he and I spend more time together than I do with my colleagues at work and I work overtime all the time.” He teases.

“Jihoon really adores you.” You agree, biting on your lip as your mind races for the hundredth time this hour.

You liked Yoongi. You really did—and somewhere along the way, like turned into something more … dangerous. A territory that you usually reserved for Jihoon because you only had the capacity to care for one boy in your life but Yoongi smuggled his way into your heart and here he was causing a hurricane in your stomach.

The words he spoke were so truthful and genuine that you can’t help but believe that against all odds in the universe, Yoongi has somehow chosen you. You were the one that was afraid. He has always chosen you. That enough is shown when he makes his way after tiring shifts just to lay on your couch and play with Jihoon in times where all he could do was babble incoherent words. He chose you when he made surprise visits with the homemade stew that you knew he knew your son and you loved. He chose you when he invited you and Jihoon to spend Chuseok together because you mentioned just spending it with your son than with your family. His parents adored you and were even more taken with Jihoon.

He has always chosen you but now it was your turn.

“I love you.”

You say those words without much further thought because you’ve always felt it. Three words have never felt so safe on your tongue to utter into the atmosphere and you feel the same after the truth is out there. You always knew how you felt and you knew that Yoongi was smart to observe your feelings too, which was why when you finally said it he just looked … content. Happy—like he was in a place that was so familiar and comforting that he didn’t need to react any differently.

“I want—I want to be with you.” You clear your throat, “If you’ll have me.”

You look so shy and young—because you were. But you had that childlike innocence that he’s only ever had the pleasure to see when you would play fight with Jihoon. He feels his chest swell with pride knowing that he was the reason you looked like that and felt the way you did.

“Hmm … should I?” He leaned in closer until his breath was on your cheek.

You knew he was teasing you but you still can’t meet his eyes, and Jihoon simply giggles at the way Yoongi squeezes him between your chests in a way so comforting that Jihoon feels like it’s a warm hug from a blanket.

“Don’t tease …” You grumble.

Yoongi runs his hand through your hair and pulls your head closer to his to give you a gentle kiss on the lips. It was nothing seductive or implicative but so Yoongi. A kiss to show you he wanted this and that he felt whatever flurry of emotions you felt. A kiss like he was coming home.

He pulls away and you see Jihoon frowning between the two of your through your redness and shock.

“I wanna’ kiss too!” He whines, and you and Yoongi both look at your son with the stars in your eyes, then lock eyes with each other; and you do what comes naturally next.

You both kiss your son on the cheeks.

#bts fic #bts imagine #bts fics #bts imagines #bts yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #bts fluff #yoongi imagine #yoongi fic #min yoongi x reader #fluff #imagine #min yoongi fluff #min yoongi #yoongi

492 notes · View notes

sloshi · 6 years ago

Text

Sasusaku Fanfic - Prologue

Title: Captain!

Pairing: Sasusaku

Summary: Passing lewd notes in class is all fun and games—that is, until it smacks a certain baseball captain upside the head. Japan!highschool AU [will be Slow burn / eventual smut]

Read Chapter 1 preview here

Prologue

“—recognizes the cell as the basic unit of life, genes as the basic unit of heredity, and evolution as the engine that propels the creation and extinction of species. Living organisms—“

Sakura blinks heavily, tuning out her teacher’s lecture with shameful ease. With her chin resting sleepily in her hand, she glances at the clock above the chalkboard, nearly rolling her eyes in dread when she sees that the minute hand hasn’t moved nearly an inch since the last she checked. Which was like an hour ago.

(Okay, so maybe it was like a minute ago, but seriously, come on.)

She drums her fingernails impatiently against the wooden desktop, blatantly ignoring the glare from the guy next to her, who’s shooting laser beams with his eyes at her tapping fingers, annoyed.

Green eyes trail lazily back to Kakashi-Sensei, a teacher she’s almost positive has a porn-addiction if the orange book that is always sticking out of his back pocket is any indication. Sakura scrunches her nose in disgust—It’s no wonder he’s teaching Biology. A shudder runs down her spine.

She debates whether or not she should sneak a nap. There’s still twenty minutes left of class, and honestly? She knows this stuff already. She’s read the textbook—all three-hundred and twenty pages of it, and Sakura is more than ready for the test this Friday. Maybe she’s an overachiever (an over-doer, if you will), but if she’s going to be a doctor one day, she has to be. There’s no half-saving someone’s life.

At least she doesn’t have to worry about falling behind, unlike her best friend who wouldn’t be a senior right now without her. She snickers to herself, remembering all the notes she had slapped onto Ino’s minty-blue bedspread two nights before the final exams last year.

‘You mean, I have to read all of these?!’ She had screeched, her face nearly purple with terror.

Sakura clapped a simple hand on her shoulder, smiling, unabashedly relishing in her misery. Maybe next time, Ino will actually study instead of poking fun at Sakura’s notes all the time now that she sees how much work she puts into them. You live and you learn, Ino-pig. ‘Yup!’

(Speaking of notes.)

Glancing down at her spiral notebook, her bubbly scrawl of handwriting takes up only half the page since she had abandoned writing about fifteen minutes ago. Pursing her lips, she stops drumming her fingers (she swears the guy next to her moans in relief.) and picks up her pen, drawing nonchalantly in the empty space. Mindlessly scribbling little spirals along the faint blue lines, she pauses when she suddenly finds herself doodling a familiar name.

Sasuke.

Baseball captain. Brilliant. Top-of-the-class. Perfect lean body. Tall, dark and handsome—you know, everything that shouldn’t be possible for one man be all at once. (It’s so unfair because nobody should be that perfect. Seriously.)

Despite his obnoxiously shining qualities, he’s quiet for the most part. Keeps to himself like he’s a secret. Or maybe he killed someone—it’s not like she’d ever know, since she the only stuff she knows about Sasuke is purely by rumor. They just happen to float her way, and honestly, it’s a little hard to ignore gossip that involves the baseball captain of KHS. Everyone knows him. Loves him, actually.

Okay, so maybe only the female population loves him. The males, however, are a different story—but they’re just jealous sore losers if you ask her. It’s not like Sasuke asked to be born that freaking attractive.

She’s also heard on several occasions that he’s actually antisocial—withdrawn to a point. He doesn’t attend activities outside of school, other than baseball, and he’s never seen at mixers or parties. In fact, the only person he’s really ever seen with outside of school is the catcher of the baseball team; Naruto Uzumaki. A blonde knucklehead of a guy she’s seen, heard of, but never spoken to.

(And even though Sasuke and Naruto were rumored to be gay, Sakura secretly hoped Sasuke was at least Bi.)

You’d think a guy like him would embrace his genes and take advantage of every opportunity he gets, considering the way he can literally make a whole room swoon just by entering.

But as far as she knows—or anyone knows—he’s never had a girlfriend. (Or boyfriend.)

Too bad it only serves to make him more interesting, if half the crooning girls of the school are anything to go by. Sakura likes him too, but she’s not screaming across the baseball field, clinging to the chain-link fence like a wild animal, asking to have his babies in the middle of his pitch. (True story. She was there. The girl was escorted off campus.)

After punctuating the last letter of his name with a little heart, she sighs wistfully and looks up, green eyes following the incline of desk rows downward where the very man himself sits at the edge of his row, diagonal from her perspective, whose quick hands are working away at his notebook diligently.

He’s as handsome as ever, she sighs to herself, as she studies the side profile of his perfectly unblemished face (he probably doesn’t even try!) His sharp raven bangs fall sinfully over equally dark eyes that are slightly narrowed in concentration as he writes languidly, following Kakashi-sensei’s lecture with ease. Sasuke pauses every once in a while to look up at their teacher, nodding curtly in understanding at whatever the silver-haired man is saying, as if he’s genuinely intrigued by the lecture, before returning back to his notes.

Sakura blinks in surprise, however, when Ino—who somehow managed an assigned seat next to the Uchiha, the conniving pig—turns her platinum blond head in her direction. Baby blue eyes squint mischievously, accompanied by a smirk that Sakura has learned to detest over the many years of their friendship, when her eyes flicker to Sasuke and back to Sakura. A smirk like that from Ino is nothing short of dangerous.

What, Sakura mouths impatiently.

Slender blonde eyebrows waggle suggestively and Sakura glares pointedly as if to say: Whatever you’re thinking about doing, Pig, don’t even try it.

Ino’s smirk only grows more wicked, eyes twinkling impishly when she swiftly turns back around and begins to scribble something in her notebook. Eyes narrowing in suspicion, she studies the back of her best friend’s head with a frown.

Slowly, reluctantly, Sakura returns to her own notebook, picking up where she left off, but she’s only added a few more little hearts around Sasuke’s name before something light and airy smacks her forehead and bounces off to land directly upon her notebook.

What the—

She snaps her head up, eyes immediately finding Ino’s platinum ponytail. Despite not being able to see it, Sakura sends her a dark scowl and inwardly curses. Passing notes in class is a huge no-no; it’s an instant detention and maybe Ino doesn’t care about her perfect, unblemished school record but Sakura does ThankYouVeryMuch.

If she gets in trouble, Ino is so dead.

With a petulant huff, she finally looks down at the offending object. A crumpled ball of paper sits innocently upon Sasuke’s scribbled name. Kakashi-Sensei has long since turned his back to the class, his ever-boring monotone voice a mere drawl in the background as he jots something on the chalkboard, completely oblivious to the paper note that has soared half way across the classroom.

Sakura makes a face at Ino’s back one last time before she gingerly opens the wad of paper before her, almost afraid of what she’ll see. Maybe it’s a picture, she thinks. The paper crinkles a little loudly, and naturally, she flinches, but somehow luck is on her side—Kakashi-Sensei’s back is still turned. Sighing in relief, she quickly reads Ino’s sloppy note.

Don’t think I don’t see you eyeing Sasuke-kun, forehead girl. If you want his dick that bad, you could always just ask... too bad you’re such a prude. And you might wanna wipe that drool off your chin, although I suppose Sasuke-kun could lick it off for you. How bout it, Sakura?

A cute little smiley face punctuates the end of the sentence and it takes every ounce of control in Sakura’s body not to openly gape. Turning seven shades of red, she jerks her head to send the deadliest glare she can manage at her best friend, only for her simmering anger to amplify when she finds Ino smiling back at her, a hand over her mouth stifling laughter. (That witch!) Flustered, Sakura grinds her teeth together and snatches her pen, eager to put the pig in her place.

You’re disgusting. Sakura scribbles angrily, but then stops abruptly as an idea sprouts in her head. Two can play at this game, she whispers sourly to herself. Sakura will be damned if Ino thinks she can embarrass and tease her without getting a taste of her own medicine.

Oh, I’ll show her ‘prude’.

Smirking and feeling quite proud of herself, she promptly erases her first two words and begins to rewrite.

Lick it off? Oh, pig. I’d let Sasuke-kun do more than just that. I bet you think you did something there, huh? You’re a real comedian. And speaking of prude, I’ve never seen you with a guy either. Why don’t you ask him out yourself? Hypocrite.

P.S. if Kakashi-Sensei catches this note, I’ll personally kill you.

Satisfied, Sakura draws a tiny passive-aggressive heart, crumbles the paper back into a wad and waits until Kakashi-Sensei turns around again. The second his back is turned, she hurls it through the air where it bounces against Ino’s shoulder and onto the floor. She hastily bends over to pick it up, skims it over, and throws Sakura an offended look over her shoulder.

Cha! Take that, Ino-pig!

Sakura childishly sticks out her tongue, inwardly pumping a fist in triumph. Ino can make fun of her all she wants, but at the end of the day, she’s really not one to talk. She’s never seen her best friend advance on a guy, and the fact that she’s hounding her for not busting a move on Sasuke Uchiha—the freaking baseball captain, of all people—is laughably ridiculous. Sure, she’s liked him for three years. But who hasn’t. It was a harmless, silly crush; something she’s never expected to grow into anything other than just that. He’s so far out of her league it’s almost embarrassing. They’ve never even spoken before, least of all looked at each other. She’s pretty sure he doesn’t even know she exists—at least, he pretends not to.

Sakura remembers all too clearly the day she once tried (with all the courage her hopeful heart could muster) to say hi to him. They had been the first ones to arrive in the classroom one morning, leaving them completely alone with each other. He had already been seated at his desk, writing something in his notes, clearly absorbed—oblivious to her entrance. Her palms had been so sweaty it was a wonder how she even held onto her notebooks.

“Good morning, S-Sasuke-kun.” She had greeted cheerfully (nervously), a one-thousand-watt smile lighting her face like a Christmas tree. Heart thundering, she clenched her notebooks to her chest, face blossoming as pink as her hair as she waited for him to acknowledge her as she casually passed him by.

He hadn’t even looked up. (That jerk!) But when she had settled into her desk, deflated and deeply humiliated that she had been disregarded so easily, so rudely, it was only then that she had noticed the earbuds in his ears. Her chest flooded with relief. He probably hadn’t even heard her.

Maybe next time, he’ll notice me.

But there had never been a next time. Sighing heavily at the memory, she is ripped from her thoughts when a crinkled ball of paper plops onto her notebook again. Sakura takes in a deep breath, not even bothering to look over at Ino—who, Sakura would bet a million dollars, was smirking with glee. She unfurls the note as quietly as she can manage.

Yeah, I bet you would love for him to do more than that, wouldn’t you. And I may not have ever been with a guy, but at least I’ve been kissed. What’s it like, daydreaming about Sasuke-kun’s wet, sloppy kisses? You’ve liked him for like, three years now, Sakura. Get a fucking move on, already. The suspense is killing me. Wrap your cute little ass in a bow and slip him your virginity.

P.S. Kakashi-Sensei can suck my dick.

Eyes nearly popping out of her skull at that last sentence, Sakura hunches forward protectively when the guy next to her scowls in disgust, as if he read the note himself over her shoulder. Arms still shielding the crinkled paper from unwanted eyes, Sakura chances a look at Kakashi-Sensei before she furiously writes back.

For gods’ sake! What if Kakashi-Sensei catches this note by accident! Also I definitely do not daydream about his kisses. Okay, maybe just a little . . . But don’t you dare bring up my virginity, pig. I bet Sasuke-kun doesn’t even know my name—

“—Sakura?”

She nearly jumps out of her seat, startled like a child caught with an arm halfway in the cookie jar.

“M-Mitosis!” She blurts without thinking, only to shrink in mortification when the rest of the class explodes in peals of laughter.

Kakashi-sensei quirks a single visible eyebrow in what she assumes is surprise (nobody can really tell what kind of expressions he makes under that weird medical mask and eyepatch anyway.)

Sakura feels forty pairs of eyes on her back, and every head in the front two rows have turned, craning their necks to see the face of the unlucky person who has just embarrassed themselves.

Including Sasuke.

Over his shoulder, he looks right at her; expression as blank as a sheet of paper. She stares right back at him, blinking in astonishment, because it’s the first time they’ve ever made eye contact. And it’s so intense—piercing, even. Like two black holes sucking her in and crushing the oxygen from her lungs with their devastating gravity. Butterflies flap wildly against the walls of her stomach; she thinks she might hurl her breakfast across the room.

When his dark brows furrow marginally (she needs a magnifying glass to be sure) in confusion, her breath hitches violently, and suddenly she feels as naked as a mole rat. Heart stuttering, chest heaving, face flooding with heat, Sakura quickly tries to calm down.

Well if he didn’t notice me before, he definitely notices me now!

“Sakura?” Kakashi-sensei’s usual monotone voice is now laced with concern. She snaps her gaze back to the teacher, mumbling a quick apology before lowering her eyes in shame. The silver-haired man studies her for another moment, as if he’s hesitating whether to ask if she’s alright (as if he’s questioning her sanity), but resumes his lecture after a quiet murmur of ‘Pay attention next time.’

It occurs to her immediately what Sasuke’s first impression of her must be now. She’s just made a complete idiot out of herself in front of the whole class. All because of . . .

Sakura narrows her eyes into dangerous slits, shifting to glare at a certain blonde pig. But she’s not facing Sakura. No. She’s staring straight ahead at the chalkboard, a little too casually to be genuine, twirling a strand of her blonde ponytail nonchalantly. ‘Don’t look at me, I didn’t do anything.’ Ino’s body language says.

Sakura’s fists clench on the table top. She’s positive a deadly miasma is radiating off her at this point, because the guy next to her scoots a few inches away.

“S-Scary . . . “ she thinks she hears him whisper.

Snatching her pen, she scowls down at the crinkled note as if her very eyes could set the paper on fire, before erasing the last sentence she wrote and picking up where she left off.

—are you happy now, pig? Are you? Because you’ve just totally ruined everything with this stupid note. Sasuke-kun probably thinks I’m a dumbass, now. No thanks to you. There goes my chance.

P.S. don’t talk to me for the rest of my life. I hate you.

With that, she balls up the wad of paper with more force than necessary and, as Kakashi-sensei turns back to the chalkboard, she chucks it with all her might across the room, watching with pure satisfaction as it soars downward like a projectile missile—

—only for it to violently smack the head of a very raven-haired baseball captain.

Sakura claps a palm over her gaping mouth to stifle her petrified shriek of terror.

(Oh gods! Oh fuck! No way—!)

She sinks down into her seat immediately, as low as she can physically go, eyes wider than the moon in absolute horror. (Oh gods. Holy shit. No, no, no, no! God, please don’t pick it up—please, please, please—)

Sasuke whips his head behind him, obsidian eyes slit with anger, searching murderously for the culprit as he rubs the side of his head where he was just unforgivably assaulted. Sakura keeps her eyes trained on the notebook before her, nostrils flaring and swallowing roughly against the lump in her throat. Trying to remember everything that was written in the note, she cringes fiercely, her whole body shaking with trepidation. She thinks she might be sick.

‘And you might wanna wipe that drool off your chin, although I suppose Sasuke-kun could lick it off for you.’

‘Lick it off? Oh, pig. I’d let Sasuke-kun do more than just that.’

‘What’s it like, daydreaming about Sasuke-kun’s wet, sloppy kisses? You’ve liked him for like, three years now, Sakura. . . Wrap your cute little ass in a bow and slip him your virginity.’

‘And I definitely do not daydream about his kisses. Okay, maybe just a little . . . ‘

Attempting to swallow again, she gathers the courage to sneak a peek at her impending doom, only for her heart to plummet into her stomach when she sees him finally bend over and pick up the offending wad of paper on the floor by his feet.

Sakura squeezes her eyes shut, bringing a hand to her face in utter mortification, but not before catching the terrified look on Ino’s face as she realizes what has just happened.

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip painfully. There’s no coming back from this. Nope. She can’t even open her eyes. Oh, gods. The sound of light crinkling paper has her sinking even further in her seat. If only the floor could swallow her up.

A few tense seconds tick by, but she’s still too afraid to open her eyes. She knows (she knows) he is reading it. He’s reading it right now.

Goodbye, cruel world. It was fun while it was lasted.

Cracking an eye open, a new tidal wave of humiliation washes over her when she physically sees the note unfurled in his hands. Nope. Mm-mm. This is so not happening. She crosses her arms over the desk and buries her head in the nook of her forearms, wishing and praying and hoping to all the gods that are listening that Sasuke doesn’t hate her. Because, surely, after reading a note like that, he will be so disgusted by her that just looking at her pink head will make him hurl. She probably sounded like such a creep!

Tears prickle her eyes. She never should have entertained Ino’s stupid antics. She should have known.

(You live and you learn.)

Exhaling a shuddering breath, Sakura finally lifts her head up, only to startle forcibly when bottomless black eyes lock with hers.

He’s staring at her shamelessly over his broad shoulder, eyes peeking through his dark fringe, the incriminating note still open in his hands in all its wanton glory. Her lips tremble and she’s positive she looks like a deer caught in headlights.

The bell rings suddenly, ripping through the air and shattering the moment instantaneously. (Oh thank god!) Sakura jumps out of her seat faster than lightning, scraping her notebook into her book bag and slinging it over her shoulder so quickly she almost smacks the guy next to her across the face with it. Kakashi-sensei is announcing something as everyone is gathering their things, but right now she really doesn’t care. Galloping down the stairs between the rows of desks, bumping shoulders with people she doesn’t bother apologizing to, she books it—runs like hell to the door and into the hallway (sweet, sweet freedom) before even Ino can catch up with her. She doesn’t look back.

And she doesn’t see the pair of onyx eyes that follow her out the door.

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

Thoughts? I have around 10k words into this story right now, and I am curious if it peaks anyone’s interest :P ciao!

#sasusaku #fanfiction #au #highschool #sasuke x sakura

131 notes · View notes

unfortunatelysirius · 7 years ago

Text

Chocolate Frogs and Love Notes [Part 3 of ?]

💟☼💟 PROMPT 💟☼💟 ☾ ¡Original! ☾ Remus Lupin and Y/N L/N have anonymously exchanged notes through library books for over six months. When Sirius and James start meddling, they put Remus’s love life in jeopardy. 💟☼💟 A/N 💟☼💟 Sorry for the lack of updates and the lack of posts. I’ve been incredibly down lately, and literally don’t have the motivation to talk or do anything, really. I love you all and I hope I can start writing more this summer! 💟☼💟 WORD COUNT 💟☼💟 2773 💟☼💟 TAG LIST 💟☼💟 @kapolisradomthoughts @rageofcaliban @saucyleftovers @bunnymother93 @siriuslyr5 @apareciumimagines @random-quartz @ruefulposts @teacupwizard @sunny-day15 @themissinghippogriff @bellawolfi @semifunctionalhomosapien

At first, Slughorn looked hesitant—and rather suspicious, too, considering this was a bloody Marauder offering insight to his mischief-plagued brain—but then, his face lightened. His marred forehead, tense jaw, and unpleasant frown disintegrated, and Slughorn looked almost joyous. “It is rather interesting!” he cried cheerfully, and James beamed with smug happiness, his inner diabolical menace whirring in contentment that the plan was going into action. “Veritaserum, for those of you who don’t know, is a very powerful truth serum. One little drop, and anything someone asks you, you will be obligated to answer! All your darkest secrets, spilled out for the world to see and gawk at!”

“Darkest secrets, aye?” Sirius said, lounging against his chair with a certain aristocratic swagger unable to be found anywhere else. “Wonder what would come out from you, dear old Professor Slughorn. Something delightfully embarrassing, maybe?”

The girls giggled, and James and Peter even shared a little snigger at Sluggy’s expense. Slughorn looked simultaneously unfazed and unimpressed, turning his gaze to Sirius without an ounce of hostility in his bright, jolly eyes. “Since you seem to be so active-minded today, Sirius, why don’t you volunteer to be our subject for an old bottle of Veritaserum I have in my office?” He raised his bushy eyebrows.

“Nah, my secrets will stay dark and secret,” Sirius said, giving a dismissive wave. The suave nature in which he replied caused many of the surrounding girls to sigh and swoon, but the gears in Sirius’s head were turning and he had a brilliant—a bright idea! The boy grinned. “I’m sure Remus wouldn’t mind playing teacher’s pet.”

The brown-haired, soft-eyed werewolf froze, looking at Sirius with a look of intense fear. What if I reveal I’m a werewolf? he thought in sudden panic, not even thinking about the potential of him revealing that he was pen pals with someone in his year—maybe someone in this class. “I would rather not, Sirius,” Remus said, expression taut and strained, but his eyes glared daggers in Sirius’s direction. The look of utter betrayal on the quiet boy’s face caused the shaggy-haired dog to laugh aloud.

Professor Slughorn sighed, glancing around the room for someone studious and eager. “Lily!” he called with a smile. “What about you, m’dear?”

“No thank you, Professor,” Lily said nervously, sharing a panicked look with Marlene.

“Marlene?”

“Nope.”

“Alice! How about you?”

“I’m sorry but I have terrible anxiety, Professor—”

“Oh, alright then.” He glanced between the rest of the class. He wanted to choose a Gryffindor as the subject. He laid eyes on James. “Why not you, James? You were the one who suggested Veritaserum as our next potion of study.”

A look of confidence appeared on the boy’s angular features. “I’m much too interesting. You all wouldn’t be able to take my secrets,” James said arrogantly, smirking at his professor.

Slughorn sighed in exasperation. “Y/N!” he said finally, looking hopeful but disappointed. “I suppose you wouldn’t share a different opinion, but I’ll still ask.”

Y/N looked frozen for a moment, eyes flickering between her peers and her professor with a look of confusion, but she settled for disinterestedly shrugging. She hadn’t been listening to a word he said, instead choosing to doodle on her parchment while muffled voices entered and exited her petite ears. “I’d love nothing more.”

James and Sirius looked at each other with ecstatic expressions while Slughorn clapped happily. “Great! Come on up, then, my dear,” the balding man said, ushering her on up.

Y/N looked confused, but she shrugged anyway, getting out of her seat without the slightest struggle. She eased her way on up the aisle, confused as she watched Slughorn head eagerly to his office. What did she just get herself into? A helpless look gleamed in her eyes, and she stared at Marlene and Lily with a desperate plea for an escapade in the way her jaw locked, and her eyes blinked, but the two girls could provide nothing of use—simple shrugs were what sufficed as responses.

“I didn’t agree to something like this!” Y/N whispered, expression reminiscent of a squirrel’s when a Muggle vehicle comes trucking on, intent for a collision. When Marlene and Lily gave her their signature ‘Really, Y/N?’ looks, Y/N huffed and nervously twiddled her fingers. Some friends they are… thought the girl, her eyes now swaying across the tiles as a way to avoid the gazes of her classmates.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, James and Sirius were jumping for joy. Sirius craned back his head to look at James, and he gave him a mischievous grin, complete with a raise of his eyebrows and a sloppy thumbs-up. James returned the gesture, but instead of raising his eyebrows, the bespectacled boy winked. And unbeknownst to the two boys, Remus was staring them down, hard. He was confused as to why they seemed happy that Y/N had volunteered herself. What the hell was that about?

Slughorn came trudging from his office, and in his hands was an old-looking bottle of Veritaserum. “Would you be comfortable answering questions your classmates ask you?” asked the jolly man, giving Y/N a happy-but-reserved expression. When Y/N hesitantly nodded, his own reluctance disintegrated and Slughorn smiled. He looked at the class as he gestured for Y/N to unlock her jaw and sequentially administered three drops of the serum onto her tongue. “I’m trusting you all to be mature,” warned Slughorn, giving both James and Sirius a very distrustful look. “Raise your hands and I’ll pick and choose which of you to ask questions. Do not ask things that will purposefully embarrass the girl.”

To James and Sirius’s surprise, a lot of hands rose. To even more of their surprise, bloody Lily was the first to raise her hand. Slughorn smiled as he rested his eyes on his favorite pupil. “Yes, Ms. Evans?”

Lily looked at Y/N and smiled, hiding her mischief with innocent green eyes. “What’s gotten you so nervous lately?” she asked teasingly.

“A boy,” said Y/N instantly, her eyes widening as she realized she’d revealed too much. “He likes all of the things I like and he’s very eloquent.”

Lily pushed herself into Marlene, the two of them giggling and whispering frantically. It made Y/N blush heavily.

James found an opportunity in this question and he jumped up, waving his hand around like he’d just seen a family member that he hadn’t seen in years. Slughorn raised an eyebrow but passed his eyes over him, instead choosing to answer a question from a Slytherin student.

“Yes, Mr. Goyle?” said Slughorn, a gloating look in his eyes as he glanced at a peeved James.

Goyle looked at Y/N impassively and quite stupidly as he asked, “Why do you hang around Halfbloods and Mudbloods?”

Y/N’s nostrils flared and before Slughorn could open his mouth and take away points from Slytherin, she barked out, “I am a Halfblood, first of all—and second of all, Halfbloods and Muggleborns are much better company to keep than disgraceful Purebloods such as yourself.” She glared at Goyle, heat and anger evident in her eyes. “I hardly even know how you made it into this class. I doubt you passed half of your OWLs. And honestly, is there a single person in this classroom—in this world, even—that wishes to hear you open your mouth? To hear the idiocy that you speak? To—”

“Y/N,” Slughorn said sharply, seeing the extremely malevolent glares she was receiving from Goyle and his posy. He then glanced at Goyle and said, “Five points from Slytherin for using such a horrid word.” The Slytherins protested, angrily stating that Y/N deserved just as many points deducted, but Slughorn ignored them.

Slughorn could see that asking Slytherins would not have potential for benign results, so he then began to call on Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs instead. He called on the leggy Ravenclaw who had been flirting with Sirius all throughout the class.

“Yes, Ms. Sava?”

The girl—Andrea Sava—smirked, twirling a piece of hair as she stared at Y/N. “You’ve got a bloke you’re crushing on, right?” Y/N nodded her head, eyes wide as she regarded Andrea nervously. “Does he have a name?”

The look of nervousness intensified on Y/N’s face and she nodded her head, but it was slower this time. And the interest intensified on Andrea’s. “Is he in this room?”

Y/N nodded again, her eyes staying on Andrea’s face and never straying. If she did, people would start guessing and she would hide in her dorm for the rest of the year.

Slughorn could see the discomfort on Y/N’s face. “No more questions, Ms. Sava,” he said loudly. He begrudgingly looked at James and muttered, “Yes, Mr. Potter?”

James grinned. He was eager to continue this game even after today’s lesson, so he decided to be subtle. Well, subtle as James could get. “Do you visit the library often?”

Y/N looked confused by his question, but she nodded her head regardless.

“Do you study there?” He raised his eyebrows and grinned.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “No. I don’t.”

“Do you read?”

“Yes.”

“Do you write?”

“Yes?” The girl was eying James now, her expression extremely confused.

James grinned. “Do you enjoy writing and reading?”

Y/N nodded. She glanced at Slughorn, but the jolly man merely seemed perplexed and slightly intrigued. He was probably just as confused by James’s questions. Otherwise, he would have stopped James and moved on with another student by now.

“Are you ever with anyone?” James raised his eyebrows.

“No,” Y/N said, shaking her head.

And finally, James had the most brilliant question. He went to ask it—regardless of how it would probably ruin his chances at subtlety since it was something that would catch Remus’s attention inevitably—but Slughorn shook his head and said, “No more questions, James. You’re interrogating the girl.” James went to retort, but Sirius gave him a silent shake of his head since Sirius would most probably be the next pick. James was pleased, and his annoyance evaporated when Slughorn went, “Yes, Mr. Black?”

Sirius was curious. If Y/N knew the name of her crush and knew he was in that room… did that mean she was aware of who she was writing to? Did that mean she was crushing on Remus? The bloke grinned and suavely asked, “Am I friends with the bloke you like?”

Y/N looked uncomfortable as she muttered, “Yes.”

Sirius nodded to himself. And then he asked something he probably shouldn’t have, even though it was off-topic and just something Sirius wanted to know out of curiosity since it had a good chance of capturing Remus’s attention, “What’s your favorite book?”

Y/N’s answer was automatic. “Great Expectations by Charles Dickens.”

And that did it. James heard a sharp intake of breath and he looked back to see Remus staring at Y/N with wide, unbelieving eyes. Then, an impassive look glazed over his eyes. He looked in shock, that much was obvious.

What Sirius and James didn’t know was that in a previous note, Y/N—or Rosy, as she had named herself in their exchanges—had described her love and appreciation for Great Expectations. She’d went on for paragraphs on how it’s her favorite book. How she loved it so much that she could hardly express it—but she did. She was so eloquent with her words. And this girl at the front of the classroom—this shy, beautiful girl who was friends with Marlene and Lily, who had been put in a month’s worth of weekend detentions for jinxing the entirety of the Slytherin boys in their class just last year—was his pen-pal? A girl who Remus had once watched longingly at Quidditch games and in the library was who he’d written to for months?

No. No, this had to be a coincidence.

Remus shot his hand in the air, just as Slughorn was opening his mouth to close today’s demonstration. “Yes, Mr. Lupin?” said Slughorn with a look of bemusement, and even Y/N looked shocked.

“What’s your favorite band?” asked Remus, not even glancing at Slughorn as he stared at Y/N.

Y/N’s answer was, again, automatic. “The Beatles.”

Remus’s heart was beating loud in his chest and he nearly let his disbelief and shock and nervousness show on his face, but he forced himself to look impassive… to be impassive…

James was glaring at Sirius, having seen the realization that had dawned in Remus’s eyes. “Great going,” he mouthed at his friend, and Sirius just shrugged apologetically. Truth be told, Sirius was just happy that he’d speeded along the process of Remus and Y/N getting together.

“That’s it for today, class,” Slughorn said, giving them a small smile. He casted a sorry glance over at Y/N, trying to communicate an apology for putting her through this interrogation through his eyes, and the blushing girl simply gave him a shrug, as if to say, I put myself here. “You’re all dismissed.”

James and Sirius immediately ran over to Remus, where the tall, chestnut-haired bloke was petrified to his seat. He seemed stuck in his mind—so much so that the troublesome, well-aware duo came to a halt and shared an unsure glance. Were they comfortable with disclosing that his revelations were all part of the plan?

Probably not. After all, Remus would be angry and want to hex them into oblivion for knowingly doing such an exploitation—but in Sirius’s humble opinion, the lycan should and would be thankful. He couldn’t have exchanged letters with Y/N without ever wondering what she liked like and who she was; that was just strange. And mad, actually. Who in their right bloody mind would anonymously write to someone without wondering what their face looked like? The mere idea was preposterous!

“Remus…” James started, giving the boy a wary glance. He didn’t know how his friend would react upon the news of his and Padfoot’s mischievous doings. But the boy didn’t let Prongs finish.

“It’s her,” he breathed. “It’s her… All this time, I-I’ve been—”

“All thanks to me!” Sirius burst in gloatingly. “Didn’t know you’d figure it out with that question, of course, but I speeded it along, didn’t I? Now you can get together with the girl from your letters—”

“My letters? Did you search my trunk?” Remus asked suddenly, face paling into an ashy white as he glanced up. He was no longer frozen in his spot. And shockingly, he didn’t ask the question that should have been burning on his tongue.

“Obviously not!” the shaggy-headed prankster said indignantly. “When you picked that bloody flower the other day, we got a bit… curious. Watched your lovely lady pull that same flower out of a letter, and we just-so-happened to put the pieces together. Figured your loony behavior had to have something to do with a bird.”

Remus stared at Sirius, his expression full of anger—wait, anger? Oh, no… that wasn’t part of the plan. “You did this… you did all of this… to get me and her together?”

Sirius nodded, not really understanding the heated glare in Remus’s eyes, or the strain on his jaw.

James felt a bit uneasy and he nudged Sirius warningly. “We just wanted to help you get the girl, Remus,” he said, trying a hand at soothing the situation, but Remus was beyond angry. He was seething.

“That—that is a whole new level of cruel, even for you two! Do you know how embarrassing that had to have been for Y/N? For me? Merlin, you idiots—what the bloody hell did you think you were doing, exploiting the two of us like that? We both agreed to keep identities hidden until we were comfortable enough to meet each other, and now you’ve fucking ruined that!” Remus all but snarled. Thankfully, all the other students had left the classroom, and Slughorn was in his office. Even Peter had left, which was unusual in itself. “I… I like her so much. Even without the letters, the anonymity… And now, I-I can’t. I can’t write to her without feeling the guilt eat at me! I can’t fucking—” He stopped, looking at Sirius and James with utter contempt in his gaze; it caused the two to reel back in shock. James opened his mouth to speak, but… “Don’t. Just don’t.” Remus grabbed his things and without a look at his best friends, he was storming from the classroom.

In all of James’s life—in all of Sirius’s life—the two boys had never felt so utterly guilt-ridden. How the hell were they going to fix this?

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin headcanon #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #marauders #marauders era #harry potter x reader #harry potter headcanon #hpedit #harry potter #peter pettigrew #headcanon #hp fanfiction #hp #remuslupin

302 notes · View notes

strngrmdst-a · 6 years ago

Text

PART 2: GROWING UP

How would they describe their childhood in general?

In a word: bad.

What is their earliest memory?

Rainy day, grey sky, his mother trying to put him and Jim into a car, on their way to an appointment, or something.

How much schooling have they had?

Richard had schooling all the way up to the university level. All the schools Rich attended, including his university, were rural and mostly low-performing. He dropped out of university before he could finish his degree.

Did they enjoy school?

Richard loved school. He loved learning things, of course, but more importantly it was a safe haven from his home life. He went to university because it would allow him to get away from his father.

Where did they learn most of their skills and other abilities?

Richard has always been a gifted story writer, though the ‘telling’ part, with his stutter and nerves, didn’t really come until university. Navigating the world of crime is really something he picked up on the job, but memorization tricks, speech habits, accents, all that got started in his late teens/early twenties with acting classes. Other things like languages were mostly self-taught. Things like making himself seem harmless and non-threatening came from life experience as a short-ish kid with big eyes and a stutter.

While growing up, did they have any role models? If so, describe them.

James Cagney and Edward G. Robinson- so much so that Rich took his pen name from them. They were the first actors he really saw on screen, thanks to his father’s love of early cinema. They seemed so cool to him, and he liked that they could play hardened, violent criminals in one film and dancers and singers in the next (not that his father was eager to show him Yankee Doodle Dandy).

While growing up, how did they get along with the other members of their family?

Rich’s relationship with his immediate family was strained. Throughout his childhood he was afraid of his father, who in turn both didn’t like him and didn’t have the empathy/patience to raise children. Rich was close to his mother when he was young, but she left his life before he was a teenager. He never found out what happened to her but for a long time (still maybe to this day) really resented her for leaving.

He and Jim, as twins, probably had the best relationship. Rich relied heavily on Jim for a lot of things, and had complete blind faith in him. This usually meant Jim talked Rich into various schemes, which didn’t always end well for one or both of them. They didn’t fight when they were young because Rich was too busy hero-worshiping.

Rich only met extended family once or twice. To his knowledge, he has no surviving relatives outside Jim.

As a child, what did they want to be when they grew up?

Rich wanted to make films- whether acting, behind the scenes, or writing them.

As a child, what were their favorite activities?

Rich enjoyed reading (when he could get away with it), and acting out scenes (by himself, typically from memory) he could remember from films. He spend a lot of time outside or hidden away, avoiding his father, which meant a lot of time alone. When he couldn’t act, he recited scripts and stories to himself, or tried to write them down, or both.

As a child, what kinds of personality traits did they display?

Curiosity, shyness, a want to help. Voluntary muteness, anxiety, over-dependence on his brother. Rich was a cute kid but he was being abused, and that reflected very strongly in his attitude in his primary school days. Unfortunately, many of the symptoms of abuse were either missed, ignored, or chalked up to him being ‘oversensitive’ and a ‘crybaby’ by his instructors and school staff. What wasn’t ignored was also blamed on his mother’s leaving them. Eventually, Rich learned that the more he (and Jim) misbehaved, the more likely it was to get back to their father, and the more likely he’d face even more trouble. He became mostly well-behaved, if a little too over-eager to complete tasks and a little too withdrawn.

As a child, were they popular? Who were their friends, and what were they like?

Rich’s ‘best’ friend was Jim, but he did get along with others in class. The issue was that their parents didn’t like Rich’s family and so wouldn’t let their children interact with Rich and Jim. They did try, once. Rich and Jim were invited to a sleep over. It ended badly.

When and with whom was their first kiss?

Rich’s first kiss was when he was about six. It was at the previously mentioned badly-ending sleep over, with another boy. It wasn’t romantic- there was a kiss in a film they were all watching, and Rich and the boy wanted to see what it was like. They didn’t actually get kicked out of the party until one of the other children started bullying Rich for it, and Jim punched him in the face. Their mother was the one who took them home. She never told their father why. It was for the best.

Are they a virgin? If not, when and with whom did they lose their virginity?

Rich lost his virginity when he was eighteen and just in university. It was with a young woman in his program who’d been flirting with him all night at a party. It was consensual, if clumsy, but she was good-humored and pretty and nice. The sex was just ‘fine’- Richard got more out of getting her off than he did in his own orgasm.

They didn’t date but they did remain close friends until he left university, and for a few weeks after he returned home. Their relationship ended badly, with Rich cutting contact.

If they are a supernatural being (i.e. mage, werewolf, vampire), tell the story of how they became what they are or first learned of their own abilities. If they are just a normal human, describe any influences in their past that led them to do the things they do today.

magic!verse:

When Rich was young, his twin brother died. Definitely, for sure died. It happened in front of his own eyes. And yet, the next morning, there his brother was, in their room, rolling out of his own bed and complaining about getting up early for school. Their father never really trusted the new-Jim, but their father also didn’t really like either of his sons, so home life wasn’t much changed. In school, things started happening, to animals, to school supplies, to people who annoyed them. The teachers only noticed that Jim was getting more charming and more willing to work with others. After a while, Rich thought maybe he was crazy and the entire death and resurrection was just another fantasy made up in his head.

Until Carl Powers was killed, and the not-Jim told him itself that it wasn’t his brother. It told him it was getting bored, and it was going to leave, and that if Rich didn’t grow a spine his father was going to end up killing him, too. It told him that it might kill Rich itself, just on principal.

It didn’t kill him, but it did leave a few years later. By that time, Rich knew that he wanted to be useful to it, still. He begged it to teach him magic- and when it got bored of that, Rich did what he could to teach himself.

main!verse:

Rich was always very dependent on Jim, but there was a period of time when they had no contact at all. This was a difficult time for Rich because as much of a questionable influence as he was, Jim was still the closest Rich had to a support system. With him gone, it was just he and his father. As he aged, Rich was better able to recognize the abuse and better able to navigate it- and the ‘it’s getting better’ and ‘he’s remorseful’ cycle his father went through. He applied to university without telling his father, worked hard to get into it, and did everything he could to stay at it or with friends or classmates.

Before he could graduate, a neighbor from home managed to find Rich’s contact information and get in touch. She told him his father was dying, that all he wanted was to see his sons and make amends, and that Rich owed him that wish, at least. So Rich went home to find a dying man who refused treatment and refused to give up the vices that were literally killing him but did seem, for once, genuinely remorseful.

Maybe it was the guilt of staying away so long, the guilt of not feeling guilty for running away, or his desperate want to have a loving connection, but Rich decided to stay. They plan was to resume his studies after his father’s passing, after matters were settled. But that never happened. After his father’s death, it came out that his vices had him in heavy debt with some bad people, who were more than willing to hold Rich to that debt. Rich starting abusing alcohol, just like his father, who was the one who made it a habit for him by insisting they drink together in his last days. Things were bad, and this was how Rich got into ‘crime’, really- though nothing compared to the things Jim did.

It was how the twins were reunited again. Jim found Rich in a shitty, falling-apart studio flat doing shitty, sloppy jobs for a third-rate gang. Honestly, Rich had assumed Jim’d disappeared or died just like their mother (or maybe never existed in the first place). He appeared like from no where and was a chance for a different life. Rich refused to lose the last of his family. Refused. He decided he’d do anything and everything to make sure he stayed in Jim’s life.

#hc #got some magic!verse in there too #tw: mention of child abuse

2 notes · View notes

halfblood-fiend · 8 years ago

Text

My First Words- The Cringe Poetry Era

Because of thesecondsealwrite’s amazing posts about her past writing, and her second Tumblr anniversary celebration, I decided to join in on the fun. I will impart on you some of my first words over the course of these 10 days and you can see the completely awful and totally terrible journey to becoming the writer I am today.

Now, I am notorious for keeping everything ever and that is doubly so for my stories. The problem, though? This time last year my family was supposed to have moved and apparently I was the only one who got the memo. So all my stuff is packed away and locked in storage. So I’m pretty sure that’s where all the old stuff is, I’m talkin’ the shameless self-inserts, the copious Mary-Sues, the cringiest of cringe poetry, the erotic to a 13-year-old Halo/Eragon/Chronicles of Riddick/Harry Potter crossovers, and the literal mountains of fanfiction about Snape, sometimes with students (yes...I am very guilty of that, hang me please).

However, I did manage to scrounge up some stuff from a journal that didn’t get packed because it’s still a quarter blank and, for some reason, I seem to always intend to keep diaries the way I used to back in my middle school/early high school days.

I deliberated for a while about how to post them. I wondered if I should post scans or if I should write my own modern commentary all over said scans but I settled for simply typing them exactly as they are, sloppy grammar and shitty spelling intact. If anyone wants to see the scans, I will post them because you really miss out on a whole hot mess of awful doodles and chicken scratches as well as the worst formatting bs you’ve ever seen (probably).

So, I placed it under a read more because I don’t think anyone wants a whiny 12-year-old on their dash, but the following is me, and my very 12-year-old problems, totally unedited.

Bullshit

Why should I care? Give me a reason and I might stay. Stay friends? Ha! Don't you remember? It was you who dumpped me. So why are you asking my forgivnes? It should be me, shouldn't it? But stop, listen. Do you hear me begging? No. Because I'm fed up. Tired of the bullshit. Sick of the same Goddamned scene. Aquatences, pehaps. But never again friends.

You’re smoking something if you thought I wasn’t gonna have commentary on this shit...

Okay so, god awful spelling, worse content. Yet SOMEHOW I remember that nearly every single poem I wrote around this time period was about/related to/because of boys. Gotta love those middle school hormones. I really don’t know whether to laugh or cry but, it get’s better...

Lonley Valentine

Another Valentine's day Come and gone. Yet another hopeless year. I've never had a Valentine. Never in my life. Unless you count my parents; this thought gives me much strife. I've only five boyfriends And they never last too long. Theres always someone else they like more because apparenly I'm wrong. Most people would label me a loner. to whitch I'm pretty sure they're right. 'Cause I've never had a Valentine and I suck it up with all my might I hear that people say that to love another one must first love themelves. This is what I say to them, "Shut up you mother fucker!"

"Shut up you mother fucker!” Aaaaaand she sticks the landing!

Look my least favorite part about this trainwreck is the very forced lines and hence rhyming? Other than that, I hate all of it. I also just LOVE how 12-year-old Madison thought life revolved around Valentine’s Day and like...having somebody. I guess that even modern Madison feels that way since most of my content is thinly veiled romance. I guess some things never change.

I’d also like to adress that “only five boyfriends” part because it sticks out in my mind... I’m pretty sure that at this middle school age, I’m even counting those “relationships” that were like, “Joey held my hand one time at recess” or something because I can tell you right now FIVE is...not true? Not even remotely accurate? I also love the “ONLY five boyfriends” part as if it was some kind of competition and even with five I was losing... badly, as my beautiful poem illustrates.

Untitled

Help me out. Out of my never ending pit. Help me someone. I'm falling to abiss; please someone. What does it matter? Like the useless raindrops that patter I'm no longer there. No longer where? People ignore me falling to black. Help me please Throw me a rope, lend me a hand I realize theres no turning back, Nothing but black. I'm falling to oblivion, no longer real I wish I was as invisible as you make me feel Falling faster. No way back, only down. No one to pull me up Just falling; just nothingness. When I snag on a branch, it breaks Then falling again faster, faster. Lonesome death only. Nobody. No turning back. Just fading to black.

Now, I did NOT read the journal entry that “went” with this poem because my brain literally could not handle it, so I don’t know what context all this blackness is in. Pretty sure it’s just a metaphor for my life, or, judging by previous content, I had a crush on some dude that looked at me for a whole five seconds one time in science class and then it turned out that he didn’t like like me.

ALSO! WARNING! Past Madison did this awful thing where she liked to incorporate her favorite lyrics into her own poetry and give no credit whatsoever. In fact, sometimes she even claimed they were hers. She just...took em. I honestly couldn’t tell you why. I die a little every time I see that shit. So, if you didn’t catch it, the line “I wish I was as invisible as you make me feel” belongs to Fall Out Boy and their song The Pros and Cons of Breathing. Thanks guys, tell your writers they did well capturing the spirit middle school angst.

You know...in that packed box of papers there is an entire typed, printed, and bound copy of every poem I ever wrote in middle school. I titled it “Emo Chronicles” and actually turned that shit in for a school project and got compliments AND a grade for it (Yikes!!). And I’m sorta glad that all I could find were these three poems for two reasons A) I don’t think I could have handled reading an entire volume of this type of thing and B) I would have probably picked out the ones I was still sorta proud of, so here you go. There is no bias here, whatsoever.

I just wish I could go back in time and give this poor confused girl a cookie and a hug. Maybe not the cookie, actually, because this sad girl was constantly destroyed by her mother over her weight with merciless precision. Still, she could use a hug and I would tell her, “Boys are stupid and are a huge waste of time, bro.” Then I’d walk into the sunset. And then this girl would go home and write some poetry about it. She’d probably think it was very deep and existential.

I actually continued to write poetry well into high school but it petered off around my Junior year and I haven’t touched it since. Honestly, because of all this mess, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I know that all this crap is a literal skeleton in my closet and I almost feel like I never want to open that door ever again.

So if you read this far, THANK YOU for not unfollowing and blocking me instantly! Lmao. Yeah, it’s bad, but the only way to get good is to slog through some utter shit and I really think that this era of my writing career is my utter shit (yes, I even believe that insane crossover is better than this).

#my first words #cringe poetry #middle school #I will now go and write something good to remind myself I am NOT THIS GIRL ANYMORE #REEEEEEE #Fiend writes #god I almost don't want this in my writing tag #but it's a part of meeeee #throwback to when I was awful #I have come so dang far...

4 notes · View notes