Title: Out of Paradise
Author: unknown20troper
Disclaimer: I do not own Fairly OddParents.
Fandom: Fairly OddParents
Rated: R
Warnings: M/M, foreplay, profanity, handjob, sexual terms, the word 'retard' is used (more as a clinical term than as an insult. Timmy has been in fifth grade and acting like a kid for 10+ years, so I can see someone [in-universe] unaware of the reason considering him to be mentally retarded. To people aware of the reason, well, he's a boy that loves his fairies and will do anything to keep them. No offense is meant to anyone.), an adult acting like a kid or, at least, trying to; maybe some other stuff related to, well, seduction and sex, that will be specified in later chapters
Pairing Type: Slash
Pairing: Norm/Timmy
Summary: Norm tempts Timmy once he discovers that he, as an adult, prevents his fairies from being taken away by acting like a kid.
Notes: Concrit welcomed, particularly on characterization, and smut, though it can be on anything else that I'm doing wrong.
This fic is based on the premise of the FOP live action movie (Grow Up, Timmy Turner!). In this, Timmy is an adult, keeping his fairies by acting and thinking like a kid.
Hopefully, I've characterized Hugh J. Magnate well. He hasn't been seen in canon yet, so my version of him is just made of the scant info we have, pictures of Steve Weber and fanon created to fill in the many gaps.
Out of Paradise
Part One
This was not a guy in need of wishes, Norm observed. On the wall, several paintings hung, more than one of them being of his new master. Excepting a few scraps of color, the place was pretty much monochrome, though not in an attempt to be boring, though Norm, being a fan of color, was fairly bored by it. Black, white and grey acquired a style in this room, not one that the genie particularly liked, however. White reserved itself for the walls and floor, letting the two darker colors take just about anything else.
A transparent table was centered between the wall and the window, three hook-shaped chairs surrounding it in an isosceles triangle formation. Across from them, there was a desk, topped by a sleek computer. A little table and a footrest stood at the other side of the room.
It took Norm a moment to realize that this was an office, not his master's home, just a moment, not any longer. He sighed, rolling his eyes. "I'm Norm the Genie, and you've just got three wishes!"
His classic neon sign appeared when he snapped his fingers, accompanied by a GONG. The genie leaned on the 'N,' making it fall in front of his master.
His master smiled, cold blue eyes glinting. "Now this answers some of my questions… Brilliant."
"Questions? Like: how the heck do I get free sandwiches, perhaps?" Norm snorted. "Or how to take over the world?"
"No," replied his master. "Questions like: does magic exist? Could a supposedly 'mentally retarded' adult fifth grader have it?" His lips slid into a smug smile. "Looks like I can get what I want."
"And that is?" Norm drawled out the question. "I can't grant your wish if you don't make it."
"I am Hugh Jasper Magnate. I don't need you to get what I want," sneered his master. "You'll be useful, yes, but I can get better things."
"Alright, then, release me!" Norm goaded. "If you don't even want or need me, why can't you just set me free?"
Magnate turned the genie's prison around his hands as he replied, "though, you do give me an advantage…" He rested his chin on his hand and zoned out for a moment, his expression becoming a frown of concentration. "So, who is Timmy Tiberius Turner?"
"Turner? Oh, we go a long way back…" Norm said bitterly, sighing. "He's a kid, a bad kid; a bad kid with fairies. That, and my worst enemy."
Magnate returned to his considerations. "So, he's human."
"Uh yeah, completely human," Norm confirmed. "Is he the 'mentally retarded' guy you mentioned?"
"Obviously, genie," Magnate said, the words burning with scorn. "He was what prompted the question."
Norm GONGed up Da Rules, sure that what Magnate said couldn't possibly be. It certainly seemed to violate one of the core Rules, something that he knew Jorgen wouldn't tolerate, wouldn't let happen. From his place on top of the fairy ruler's toilet, he had heard many growls and rants about violations of even the smallest Rules, violations that Jorgen dealt with every time they happened.
This didn't add up. It couldn't be, but maybe it could… Rules weren't the be-all and end-all. Loopholes provided ways out of obeying them. Letter could be followed without spirit. Heck, this ability to break Da Rules was an inherent part of the genie species, pretty much.
He flipped through the book, page by page. No interfering with the actions of Anti-Fairies... Norm sighed, absolutely sure that was irrelevant. Thou must not kill, maim or injure living beings… Like death had anything to do it. Timmy Tiberius Turner must not travel to March 1972… Norm smirked, GONGing up a star sticker and placing it on the page. Still, that certainly wasn't relevant, was it?
The genie increased his pace, noticing that Magnate was watching and wanting. Pages flapped like hummingbird wings, only alighting long enough to let Norm check for a few key words. He knew that this meant he'd miss things, but he also knew that Magnate was about to deprive him of the valuable book, so he needed to get it, needed to get something before he lost it. 'Cause without it… without it… he'd lived without it for fifty thousand years, but it was fodder for new plans and a provider of hope. (As well as a way to laugh at Jorgen's stupidity. No Tom Cruise… Oh please. What the heck was Jorgen on?)
Finally, he found it. A grown-up godchild can keep their fairies if they remain childish in their thoughts, emotions, and actions. If the grown-up godchild's thoughts, emotions and actions become adult, they lose their fairies and all memories of them…
Norm shut the book, an idea manifesting in his mind. He now knew why Turner was stuck in childhood, and how to tempt him out of it, how to deprive him of those that matter the most to him, and how to undermine Magnate's plans. "Jackpot," said Norm, the word coming out as sigh of satisfaction, like the ones he'd make as he fucked Turner and fucked him over – at the same time, yes.
Magnate scowled, his impatience reaching an obvious critical point. "I wish I had that Da Rules book."
It appeared in his hands with a reluctant GONG.
Norm gulped, readying himself to request something, something essential. "Master," he started off with, hating to say the word and sounding like a servile little genie. He was not servile, or, at least, he wouldn't be. Someday. "May I, uh, go and distract Turner or something like that? To ensure that he doesn't learn of your plan-that-somehow-involves-him. After all, you can't think of an use for me, so I might as well…"
Magnate considered it for a moment, his fingers tracing the contours of Norm's lamp, conveying a sense of power with the action, not nervousness, impatience, immaturity or a need for touch. If it seemed like he was full of unused energy that needed to be released, it was not the hyper energy of little boys. It was the energy of power, energy that could shake the world and give him all that he wanted, leaving others with little or nothing. Not magic, just the capability to control.
"Yes, genie, you may," he replied. "Nice to see that you want to aid me in my plans."
"Awesome!" Norm whooped. "Thanks, master."
He GONGed away, not staying to see whether his master bothered with saying 'you're welcome' to slaves. After all, he probably didn't.