#I should start adding twice lyrics in my tags | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

Text

Seven Drinks

Bucky x f!reader

Summary: There's a reason Y/N has never had more than 3 drinks around the other avengers, and they're about to find out.

Warnings: depression, thoughts of suicide, panic attacks, angst (don't worry there's fluff too)

Word Count: 4322

a/n: This is inspired by that episode of Brooklyn 99 with 6 drink Amy (I adopted that concept!) and also Halsey's album Manic. :) I hope you like it. Anything in bold is a lyric from one of the songs on the album!

Please let me know if I messed up the trigger warning tags! I've never written anything like this before, so I just want to make sure I do it right.

Masterlist

"We're having a party tonight." Tony's announcement was met with the usual groans of annoyance at having to schmooze with the typical socialites that attended Tony's party. "You know, you are so ungrateful sometimes. here I am trying to throw you a party, and you're complaining!"

"Tony, we all appreciate the effort you go to, but- at least speaking for me- I don't like people." Y/N's response was effortless, swiftly calming Tony and explaining the reactions.

"That is why-" Tony stuttered when he actually registered the words you said. "That doesn't sound like you at all. And besides, this is a party for just us. It'll be more like team building, but without any pre-planned activities. No "smarmy, rich people" to deal with." He directed his last sentence at Bucky, Steve, and Sam.

The team actually seemed excited at the prospect, albeit skeptical of Tony's motivations.

Unsurprisingly, Nat worked up the courage to question him on it first, "what's the catch?"

"No catch. Just friends, food, and lots of alcohol." His grin quickly shifted into a smirk as the entire room turned to look at you.

You groaned slightly, not wanting all the attention. "Look, there is a reason I cap myself at 3 drinks." Holding up one finger, you started to explain, "One drink Y/N is barely any different from my sober self."

Wanda quickly cut you off, "not true! You get louder." She smirked, happy to have added that tidbit of information.

"Fine." With a laugh, you admitted she was right. "I might get the tiniest bit louder." You held up a second finger to continue your explanation, but were once again cut off.

"It's not a bad thing. It's just your happy, bubbly, and slightly louder than normal personality shining through!" Nat added, seeing an opportunity to tease you for being so positive all the time.

"Thanks Nat. Anyway," emphasizing the rudeness of being interrupted twice, you continued, "two drink Y/N is more touchy feely than normal. Not in a creepy way though!"

"I love two drink Y/N. She gives the best hugs!" Thor eagerly added to the conversation, glad to have dropped by when he did.

"Thanks Thor." With a small smile in his direction, you held up a third finger. "Three drink Y/N is the perfect amount of just past tipsy to have fun without doing anything extremely embarrassing. It makes the most sense to stop there." You finished her little speech with your typical smile and a resolute nod of your head.

"Seriously, you need to relax. Just let loose this one time!" Sam tried to encourage you. With the eyes of nearly every avenger set on you, your resolve didn't last very long.

"Fine! Maybe I'll have a fourth drink." You were met with cheers as you rose from your spot on the couch, trying to prepare for the night that was to come.

As soon as you stepped off the elevator, you had a drink in your hand. Clearly your friends were going to make sure you got a fourth drink. even Steve seemed excited when he saw you, although his golden boy personality didn't disappear completely.

"You sure about this? I don't want you to feel pressured!" Bucky nodded, weirdly enthusiastically, before adding, "Yeah doll, don't drink more than you want to."

"You two are too sweet. Sam's right, but don't tell him I said that." You winked at the two super soldiers, emphasizing the joke. "I should let myself relax sometimes. I'm in a safe place, with friends who won't let anything happen to me. What could a few more drinks really do?" You couldn't help but smile at how true that was. You were surrounded by people who care about you.

"Oh, so now it's a few more drinks? What are we talking here, six drink Y/N? Seven?" Bucky teased.

"You'll have to wait and see, Ducky." You teased right back, knowing how flustered he got at the pet name. Steve laughed at his friend as you walked away, ready for your second drink.

Before long, you had your fourth drink in your hand. It was slightly odd how literally everyone was staring at you, but your were three drink Y/N at the time, so you were drunk enough not to care.

You downed the fourth drink, unprepared for the consequences.

"So, Y/N... how do you feel?" Clint braved the waters, everyone eagerly awaiting your reaction.

"That is so nice of you to ask! I feel great! I don't think I've ever been this happy." You jumped up and down, hugging Clint with a huge smile on your face.

"How did you get even happier?" Tony chuckled, shaking his head slightly.

"Do you not like it?" Like a switch had been flipped, you were nearly crying.

"What?! No!" Tony was so taken aback at the tears pooling in your eyes, he froze, unsure how to fix it. He looked around the room for help, but everyone else was just as shocked as him.

"I'll fix it!" You were at the bar, fixing another drink before anyone fully comprehended your mood swing.

You walked back up to the group, sipping from your fifth drink as if nothing happened. "What?" You questioned the odd looks, but before receiving an answer you squealed, again jumping up and down. "Let's dance!" You turned around, ready to move to the more open area before looking back over your shoulder, "Wanda! Nat! Pepper! Come on!"

The women shared a look, ultimately shrugging before joining you on the makeshift dance floor.

"Bucky, you've been staring at her for 20 straight minutes. When are you finally gonna talk to her?" Steve couldn't help but pester him about his feelings.

"I can't help it. I've never seen her dance so much. I mean, I know she's always happy, but this is a whole new level." He didn't take his eyes off of you, even when he was responding. "I can't tell her tonight, though. This is the most she's had to drink in years."

He watched as you moved back over to the bar, needing another drink after dancing so much.

"Here we go, six drink Y/N." Bucky gestured to the bar. Steve shook his head, but allowed the change of topic.

About five minutes after your sixth drink, you were somehow bounding around with even more energy. You were nearly running around the room, trying to talk to everyone at once.

"Ducky! Have I ever told you I took gymnastics lessons for 7 years when I was younger?" You were bouncing with pent up energy, excited to be sharing more information about yourself.

"No, you've actually never mentioned that." He smiled, enraptured by your childlike enthusiasm, so enraptured that he didn't notice the mischief in your eyes.

"Well, I did! Watch this." You handed a confused Bucky your now empty glass, turning and throwing your arms up. Bucky realized two late what was happening, and with both yours and his glasses in his hands, he couldn't physically stop you.

"Y/N, wait!" His shout had everyone turn and look as you flawlessly executed two cartwheels in a row.

Bucky would swear your smile got even bigger as you turned around to look at him again.

"Normally I can do more, but" you hiccuped, then lowered your voice to a really terrible whisper, "I'm a little drunk." You leaned into him, laughing as if you just told a joke.

Wanda walked up to you with a seventh drink, hoping seven drink Y/N had a little less energy, but happy to see you having so much fun. "Here ya go! One more of your favorites, just like you asked."

"Thank youuuuuu!" You shifted to hug Wanda, leaving Bucky to miss your added warmth.

You sipped your seventh drink slower than the rest, quickly running out of energy. Sliding the empty glass across the bar, you slipped out of the party unnoticed, making your way to the kitchen for some pickles- your favorite drunk food.

Your seventh drink hit you just after you opened the pickles. Gone was the happy, bubbly persona you showed the world. The mask slipped away, leaving you alone to contemplate your life choices.

You made your way to to the lounge just outside of the kitchen, choosing to lay on the floor behind the couch and stare out of the large floor to ceiling windows.

"Where's Y/N?" Bucky glanced around the room, an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

"Huh? Oh, she said she wanted a snack." A very drunk Wanda turned to look at where the food was set up, scrunching her face in confusion when she couldn't find you. "Weird. Maybe she went to the bathroom?"

Bucky, having noticed your absence 8 minutes ago, didn't think you left for a bathroom break. "Maybe." Plus, you always took the girls to the bathroom with you. His eyes flitted about the room, taking one more glance before deciding to go look for you.

He decided to head for the kitchen since Wanda said you wanted a snack. He laughed at the open jar of pickles, knowing you at least passed through this room. He put the pickles away before popping his head into the lounge area.

"Y/N?" He called out, figuring this was the most likely location for you to end up.

You hummed in response, not moving from your spot on the floor. Bucky walked further into the room, slightly confused as to why he could hear you but not see you. That is, until he realized you were laying on the floor behind the couch.

"Why are you on the floor?" He smiled when he found you.

"I'm just looking at the sky." Your voice held a melancholy air as it floated through the room. Bucky's smile faltered, not used to hearing you sad. In the three years he's known you, he's only ever seen you sad because of a movie or tv show. Otherwise, you were quite literally always happy.

"Why-" he faltered, unsure how to check on you. "Is everything okay?" he nearly choked the words out, feeling slightly stressed at your sudden gloominess.

"Yeah." You took a deep breath, slowly letting it out in a deep sigh. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just... I don't know." You sigh again, still looking at the sky.

Bucky chances another question, wanting to get you talking since you're acting so off. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel... so sorry." You words were so soft that Bucky could barely hear them.

"Sorry?" He tried to hide his confusion, matching your soft tone as he sat down a few feet away from you. "About what doll?"

"Just... because I feel so sad." Tears pooled in your eyes, but you didn't stop staring at the sky.

"What are you sad about?" It's taking everything in him for Bucky not to hold you right now. He doesn't want to make you even more upset, especially because he's never seen you like this.

"No one around me knows who I am..." He watched as a tear rolled down your cheek, shining in the light from the moon.

Bucky moves closer, just close enough for him to reach out and hold your hand. You squeeze it, instant relief flooding through him that he hasn't crossed any boundaries.

He goes to speak, but you cut him off. "I'm not breaking. I won't take it. And I won't ever feel this way again." Your voice is harder, as if your angry with yourself.

"Hey, hey, hey. It's okay to have feelings. You're allowed to feel like this. Don't push it away. Talk to me. Why don't you think anyone knows who you are? We're all here for you, Y/N." He rubs his thumb over the back of your hand, trying to convey how serious he is.

You let out a dry laugh, wiping the the tears from your cheek. "My self preservation..." Bucky can tell there's more to, choosing to wait for you to continue. "All of my reservations..." You sigh again, sitting up, you scoot closer until you can lean your forehead against his shoulder. "I bottle it up. I'm my own biggest enemy." You let out another dry laugh, shaking your head without moving it from its resting place on Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky wraps his arm around you and leans his cheek against your head. "Take your time. You can talk to me." He whispered, trying to keep you talking without getting mad at yourself again.

"Well, I'd like to tell you that my sky is not blue, it's violent rain." The sounds of your sniffles break his heart. "I just pretend everything's fine because that's what I had to do when I was younger." Rather then interrupting, Bucky continues to rub small circles on your hand and your back, encouraging you to continue when you're ready. "Can I tell you a story? I... I think it'll help explain some of it."

"Of course. Anything you need, doll." He curses himself for the pet name, not wanting you to think he's joking. He just can't help it when it comes to you.

"Thank you, ducky." You chuckle, but your words are just as sincere as his. "You know I have two sisters, and I love them with all my heart, but sometimes growing up with them was hard. My older sister, she put so much pressure on herself to succeed. And, she did. She was so good at everything she did, that I felt like I had to be just as perfect.

With my younger sister, it was like it was effortless. She put just as much, if not more pressure on herself. but, she could do anything she tried to, with almost no learning curve. I always felt this crazy amount of pressure to be just as good.

My parents, they didn't really help with that. I mean, they were so supportive and I'm so grateful to them, but it was a lot of pressure. The summer between my junior and senior year of college, I wanted to get an internship. Ya know, to get some experience. It would set me up better for getting a job after graduation.

I spent months looking and applying, but nothing was working out. So, I went home for the summer. My mom would come home everyday and ask me if I got a job yet.

I spent nearly every waking hour looking for a job, even just a part time one for the summer. So one day, when we sat down for dinner and she asked if I got a job yet..."

Bucky could feel how tense you were telling this story, but he knew you needed to get it out.

"I told her, 'no, not yet' and she just seemed so disappointed. She asked if I was even applying and I snapped.

I yelled at her, something that had never really happened before. I told her I was trying. I was doing everything I could. She yelled at me for yelling and said it wasn't unreasonable to ask for updates.

I yelled right back. I kept saying I spend all day everyday trying and just when I finally get a break, she walks in and brings it all up again. I was stressed enough without her constant reminders.

I ended up running away from the table, in tears. I hid in the bathroom, there... there was a pair of scissors on the counter and I really thought about killing myself that day."

The tears are pouring out of you at this point. Bucky threw caution to the wind. He picked you up, maneuvering you to sit across his lap and lean your head on his chest. He kept rubbing circles into your back, murmuring words of encouragement.

"My younger sister tried to check on me, but I wouldn't open the door. My mom stomped down the hallway to her bedroom. I was full on having a panic attack in the hallway bathroom. I think I stayed in there for an hour before I went back to the dinner table.

My dad was in the kitchen. He put my plate in the microwave to heat up dinner for me. I ate through near constant tears, it only got worse every time he tried to ask me what happened. Why I snapped like that.

I wanted to apologize to my mom for yelling, so after I ate I went to her room. I knocked, and when she told me to come in I opened the door. I just remember her looking so angry.

I apologized. I told her I was sorry for yelling. She said something about not being unreasonable again. I cried again. When she asked what was wrong, I told her I was scared.

I couldn't put it into words though, so when she asked me 'of what?' I just shrugged. Then, she asked me if I was on my period.

God. I wanted to scream. I wanted to yell at her again, To make her understand 'I only wanna die some days. But if I decide to break, who will fill the empty space?' I decided that day that I would never try to tell anyone how I actually felt."

Bucky holds you as you cry. You're not sure how long it's been when you can finally breathe enough to talk again.

"I just, so many people have bigger problems then me. I grew up in a loving household. I went to college and made friends. I got a job after I graduated. So why am I so sad sometimes? I just wanna scream but what’s the use? At night, I lay awake and I stare at the door, I just can’t take it no more."

Bucky continues comforting you when he speaks again. "Just because other people have problems, doesn't mean yours are irrelevant. You are 100% allowed to feel however you feel, even if it seems like there's no reason for it. Have you ever thought about talking to someone about all of this? I know you just said you haven't told anyone how you actually feel for years, but I think it could help." He smiled nervously when you raised your head to look at him.

"I have actually. I joked about it a lot with my roommate right out of college. I always used to say 'everybody needs therapy' as a joke. Of course, I meant it. Most people probably do need therapy." You laughed, moving your arms around Bucky's neck to hug him. "Thank you for listening to me. I like talking to you."

Of course, Bucky noticed your smile didn't reach your eyes. He was confident in his words when he spoke again. "You can always talk to me. I'll always be there to listen." He followed that with a less confident "What's been bothering you today?"

"Oh, nothing that serious. It's just all pent up inside, ya know?" You smiled again, hiding your face so he couldn't see your lies.

Of course, he could still hear it in your voice. "Y/N, you can tell me. I want to be here for you."

"I... It's just, my insecurities are hurting me." You laughed at yourself. "Here we go with the fucking riddles, again. On the plus side, I think I've cried so much I'm back to one drink Y/N."

"Well, it has been 3 hours since I left to come find you." You were grateful for Bucky's joke, needing something to lift the mood a bit. "But, don't try and change the subject. I still want to know what's got you all sad." His words were light, but you knew how serious he was.

You took a deep breath, burying your head in his neck. "How could somebody ever love me?" You spoke into his shirt, not moving your head back even an inch.

"You know I can't understand you when you talk into my neck like that." Bucky tried joking, but even he knew it would do little to calm your fears.

You moved back, lips still grazing his skin when you repeated yourself, "how could somebody ever love me?"

Bucky wanted to scream. He wanted to tell you how much he loves you. He would gladly spend every day of his life loving you, but he didn't think this was the right time. Not when you just poured your heart out to him. So he settled for the almost truth.

"Anyone would be lucky to love you. You are selfless. You put everyone else first, no matter what. You always make sure everyone has a reason to smile, even when things aren't going right. You tell the best jokes. You're great at cuddling." He squeezes you closer to him, emphasizing the point. "You are beautiful, inside and out. Everyone who comes into contact with you automatically has a better day. You are incredibly strong and independent. I've never met anyone so incredibly good. Even Steve. Anyone would be lucky to be loved by you."

His words brought more tears to your eyes, pooling in the corners. "Then how come everyone that I’ve dated says they hate it cause they don’t know what to do with me? I feel broken."

"They were all idiots. You're not broken. Not even a little bit. You're learning how to express your feelings. You just need someone who would take it slow." He pressed a kiss to your forehead, struggling not to tell you everything.

"I wonder if you’d take it slow." Your eyes go wide when that slips out. You hadn't meant to make things uncomfortable. One look at Bucky's face has you freaking out. He looks stunned. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to say that. It just slipped out! Oh god, you've been there for me all night and I go and fuck it up by admitting I'm in love with you."

Your eyes grow even larger. You would move out of his lap, but his arms are still holding you in place. "Shit! Maybe I'm still drunk because apparently I have no filter." You say the last part more to yourself, but he can still hear you.

"Y/N?" Your name comes out of his mouth in a soft whisper.

"Yes?" You cringe internally at messing everything up.

"I would take it slow." He smiles, leaning his forehead against yours while he waits for you to absorb his words.

"Yeah?" You whisper back, a smile ghosting your lips.

"Yeah." You both lean in, exchanging soft, slow kisses and sleepy smiles.

The two of you ended up falling asleep leaning against the back of the couch. The sun streaming through the windows, combined with the noise of the other avengers in the kitchen, wakes you up.

You nudge Bucky, grinning when he pulls you closer.

"C'mon. Let's get some breakfast." He groans again, but eventually stands up.

The two of you walk into the nearly full kitchen, surprising everyone by coming from the lounge rather than the elevators. They share amused expressions, unaware of the emotional hurdles you jumped last night.

You head right for Sam, hugging him tightly before moving on to hug everyone else.

"I just wanted to thank you all. For encouraging me to live a little last night, but also for being there for me." Tears spring to your eyes again, shocking everyone but Bucky. "You're all like a family to me and I'm so glad I have you all to lean on." You made your way back to Bucky, leaning into his side while he poured both of you some cereal.

You smile when you look at him, kissing his cheek before sliding into the stool next to his.

As if broken out of a day dream, Sam sputters out a question. "What the hell did seven drink Y/N do last night?" Thrown off both by your behaviour with Bucky and the short emotional speech.

"Oh, seven drink Y/N is an emotional little bitch. I think I cried eight years of suppressed tears." You laughed, grinning at Bucky when he squeezed your hand. "Also, I think I need a therapist." Your casual admission has Tony spitting out his breakfast.

"What the hell happened last night after you disappeared from the party?" He guffaws, trying to put the pieces together.

"Also, why aren't you even a little bit hungover?" Nat chimed in, upset at missing out on seeing you anything but cheery.

"Well, to answer Nat first, I don't get hungover. Never have, even the one time I blackout out." You shrugged at everyone's slightly jealous expressions. "To answer Tony, I had an emotional breakthrough. Bucky helped me talk through it, something I never thought I'd be able to do. Long story short, i'm going to learn how to share my feelings instead of suppressing them all."

"Suppressing them? What are you talking about? I've literally never felt anything but happiness from you before?" Wanda questioned the new development.

"Well, that's because I'm really good at hiding how I feel. I'd rather not go through it all again, so just watch the security footage from the lounge last night, yeah? I want you all to know, even if it took seven drink Y/N to share it." You quickly finished eating, pulling Bucky to the doorway.

"While you do that, we're going out. Bye!" Before they could question anything else, you ran to the elevator, dragging a very willing Bucky behind you.

"We're going out?" He questioned when the elevator doors shut.

"Yep. Get dressed, I want to see all your favorite places in New York. Even if they're different now. Take me to all your favorite spots." You both smiled, sharing another soft kiss before parting to change for the day.

"Hey," Bucky called, causing you to turn over your shoulder, "I love you."

"I love you too."

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes one shot #tw: suicide #tw: depression #tw: panic attack

1K notes · View notes

xpeachesncream · 3 years

Text

acquainted | nine

> series masterlist | series playlist <

summary: the biggest goal of a grad student is to get through school in one piece - no petty drama involved, no sweating over the little things. however, that plan almost always never follows through. sometimes, you can’t help but fall into the most unthinkable, unexpected traps and learn the hard way. like, exhibit a: being unable to resist your engaged, substitute teacher, kim seokjin.

pairing: jungkook x reader x engaged!teacher!seokjin

genre: grad school au, student life au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 3.5k

warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, jealousy, alcohol consumption, dancing/event scene, a lil bit of that good ol’ phone sex

tags: @laurynne5 @yiyi4657 @miinoongi @teamtardis-notdead @bluesharksandfish@photographic-girl @yonkoghan @moonchild1 @thebeebi (pls msg me if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

You were a little relieved when Jungkook had mentioned that Jin and Grace wouldn't be able to make the charity event tonight. You weren't sure how you'd manage being in one place with all of them at the same time. Plus, your chaotic friends? Absolutely not.

Jungkook is driving you both to the campus event, with his hand resting contently on your thigh, the slit of your dress giving way to his large hand. You honestly really loved seeing his tattooed hand against your skin; it was attractive in many ways you couldn't explain. You donned a simple, satin black camisole dress with a cowl neck and slit to accentuate your legs. Jungkook wore a black turtleneck, slacks and a long blazer-like coat with black Chelsea boots.

If people were to see you together on the streets, you definitely would have looked like a serious couple who had been dating for years.

"Y/N!" Ryujin squeals as she runs [waddles] at you full throttle, heels on and all. She grips you into a tight hug, before smiling down at you and quickly observing your neck just to make sure. No, bitch. The hickeys are still gone! When she's satisfied with what she sees, she turns her attention towards Jungkook. "Jungkook! Wow you both are so fucking hot, it's insane." She grips onto his arms as she looks at up and down before pulling him into a hug.

"Definitely all Y/N, but thank you." He laughs as you both follow her. As you had entered the huge hall with high ceilings and old-fashioned chandeliers hanging, you caught a glimpse of Jimin and Taehyung in their suits. Boy, did your friends and Jungkook look fine as fuck tonight.

"Woah, you two." You hug Jimin and Taehyung before tugging on their blazers and fixing their cuffs.

"Like what you see?" Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows, making you shake your head. At this point, you've really run out of responses to clap back at him with. He came up with something new every time. "What's up, Jungkook?" Taehyung gently pushes you aside to casually greet Jungkook, along with Jimin.

"Dude, this charity event is way too fancy." Jimin laughed. "Majority of the people here are like, over 60 years old."

"Just wait, maybe more people from our class will show up." You chuckle. "It's for a good cause, I'm sure there's more people on the list than we think."

"Or maybe now, the party will finally start since Dj D-Sharp is setting up." Ryujin points to the DJ setting up his gear at the front of the hall.

"Fuck, finally." Jimin says, downing the champagne in his hand. You look at him, eyebrow raised because one, what kind of day did this dude have to be drinking like that? And two, he always drank alcohol like it was water, gulping it down in one motion. The fuck? "What?"

"What happened?" You chuckled, Jungkook's arm snaking around your waist as he talked to Ryujin and Tae next to you. He didn't seem too shy around them. Either that, or he just meshed well with your friends.

"Honestly, I'm just trying to feel good so I can call someone over to fuck." Your eyes widen. He was definitely allowed to drink more tonight, being that Taehyung offered to drive. Very unlike Jimin, but to each their own!

"Ohhhh, like that? Okay. Well, let's get you there then." You slowly nod in agreement. Remember, you always support your friends! [except Taehyung because that fool is dumb sometimes and he needed to deal with his own consequences] But especially Jimin; He needs some fun! You excuse yourself to get more alcohol with Jimin at the bar, Dj D-Sharp already starting to spin some ratchet, oakland-ish music even if the crowd was looking the way it was.

"You and Jungkook look nice together, Y/N." He says, clinking his glass against yours. "Seriously. He looks like a good guy." You smile toothlessly.

"Yeah, he is." No lie, Jungkook really was. Too good, almost. Every little thing he did made you feel guilty.

"One more? Should hold me out for awhile." You roll your eyes cause he was sure as hell lying, but you take the shot anyways. By the time you two are done making sour faces and sucking on limes, you begin to make your way back towards your date and friends.

And Seokjin and Grace, apparently?

You deadass almost stop in your tracks, noticing Jungkook speaking to Jin and hugging Grace tightly. The room feels like a sauna, and your throat feels like it's closing in on itself. This was the first time you were seeing her in person, and honestly, she was cute as hell. Suddenly, the guilt goes away and you feel.. bold. You want to tease Jin and you want him to want you, even given the circumstances we're in right now. You wanted him to want you so bad that he couldn't take it anymore.

"Bitch—" Ryujin places another shot glass in your hand. "I know you need this more than I do." You take it to the neck with ease like you weren't just making sour faces with Jimin minutes ago and place the empty glass on the table next to you. "I thought he wasn't coming!"

"I thought so too!"

"Oh, here! This is my date, Y/N." Jungkook happily swoops you by the waist and brings you forward to meet Grace.

"Uh, hi." You tuck a strand behind your ear, quickly glancing at Jin who is awkwardly standing there with his hands in his pockets. He simply looks at you, his hair swept and lightly gelled to the sides like it usually is and exposing his forehead; god, is he purely fuckable right now. Grace quickly catches the awkward look, but brushes it off and beams a big smile before opening her arms.

"Oh my god, she's so pretty Gookie!" She pulls you into a hug and you're internally screaming right now because what the fuck is even going on?! "Hi, I'm Grace. Jin's fiancé." She smiles from ear to ear.

"Mmm, yeah. I've heard a lot about you" You flash a toothless smile and nod. "Or a little." You clear your throat and mumble under your breath, shooting Jin another look. Ryujin is secretly pinching your back from behind for the unnecessary comment. Luckily, Grace doesn't hear the last statement, and giggles it off before swinging her arm around Jin's waist and placing her other hand against his chest. You hear Taehyung clear his throat behind you to break the awkward silence, so you shake your head and step aside for them to come into view. "This is Ryujin, Jimin and Taehyung." They all wave at her sweetly.

"Nice to meet you." Ryujin smiles before turning to your group. "Food, anyone? Looks like they set the trays of finger food down." She points to the table off towards the wall. Grace and Jin follow behind your group, Jungkook separating you from each other. Jin looks down to see Jungkook holding your hand tightly before his entire arm snakes up around your shoulders. He watches from behind as Jungkook feeds you with a small finger sandwich, you both laughing and smiling at each other.

Yeah, he shouldn't have come. Not if he was going to see this all night. But Grace had insisted being that she was finally home early for once.

You and Jungkook make your way to the dance floor to dance and keep it PG for the older audience around you. You still had fun, nonetheless, comfortably dancing and singing along to the songs with Jungkook. Occasionally, he'd wrap his arm around your neck as you both bounced to the beat and recited lyrics. You had fun with Jungkook. He was definitely into a lot of the same things you were, especially music-wise. It was easy to vibe with him. But the thing that separates him from Jin is the chase, the high of doing something so wrong but actually having it feel so goddamn right. Jungkook was like being served on a silver platter - prim and proper, easy.

For a minute, you're dancing with your friends, while Jungkook is dancing with Grace and Jin in front of your group. You figured you could start teasing Jin a bit more, playing this little game he absolutely couldn't stand. You smirk at Ryujin, who furrows her brows at you, confused at what you're trying to hint at here. Jimin and Taehyung are drunkily dancing, too busy woo'ing old ladies and buying alcohol for new friends they've been meeting.

You snake your arms around Jungkook, tugging him back towards you. He smiles as he turns and is now wrapping his arms around you. You both are slightly bouncing to the beat of the song while he looks down at you.

"What's up, pretty lady?" You pout.

"I just want a kiss."

"I think I can help with that." You tug onto the sides of his coat, tippy-toeing up to plant a good, soft kiss on his lips.

"I know she isn't right now." Ryujin says to herself, keeping her gaze on you as she dances awkwardly off beat since she's too busy watching you. She was 100% fully aware of what you were doing; You didn't need to tell her twice.

"Jeez, what happened? You're normally a good dancer." Taehyung says getting in her view, causing her to shove him aside.

"Out of my face!" She groans.

Jin occasionally glanced at you and Jungkook every time Grace had been looking away, feeling completely bothered. He caught you staring back at him with a small smirk over Jungkook's shoulder when he came down to envelope you in his long arms. He wasn't trying to play with you right now, and if he could, he'd probably take your ass to the car and fuck you senseless in that dress.

"Why are you being so cute?" Jungkook chuckles as he turns you around so he can hug you from behind and place kisses on your temple, you both now facing toward Jin and Grace.

"Just wanted a little attention." He sneaks a kiss onto your neck, causing you to close your eyes at the feeling of his lips against the surface of your skin. Suddenly, you feel the urge to head to the bathroom, the alcohol begging to be released from your body. "I'm gonna head to the bathroom really quickly."

"Want me to come with and wait for you?" You shook your head and pointed to your friends.

"I'll be good. Make sure you watch these drunkies, though." He nods and joins your friends on the dance floor. You actually really need to fucking pee, and the restroom inside the hall is out of service, leaving one stall available and a long line to accompany it. So, you exit the hall and turn to head towards the student center, where the bathrooms were located just around the corner. You felt like a huge weight was lifted off of your shoulders when you broke the seal, making you sigh contently as you flush the toilet and wash up in front of the mirrors. As you're happily making your way back, you feel hands grip your wrist and pull you under a dimly lit corner by the bathroom, completely isolated and almost eerie.

This was it. This is where your life comes to an end—

"Y/N." You hear Jin's voice breathily call your name.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Talking to you." His face slightly comes under the only small, weak light plastered on the building wall. "What does it look like?" You feel yourself getting weak, examining the sharp features on his face - his lips and how plump they are, his jaw, his eyes.

"I didn't know you were coming." You say softly.

"I didn't either." He pulls you closer to him, the both of you now in the dark and away from the dim light. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"I'm not doing anything to you." You feel his hand come down to the small of your back as he gently presses you against him.

"You know what you're doing." He says, almost at a whisper, sending chills down your spine. "You look beautiful tonight."

"You don't look too bad yourself, Kim."

"Your dress—" He leans forward to whisper in your ear. "Your dress makes me want to do so many things to you." You let out a breath, your pussy throbbing at the way he's speaking to you.

"We should get back before anyone realizes we've been gone for too long." You say lowly, your lips only inches away from his.

"Yeah, we should." He responds, but his lips are only getting closer to yours and you do nothing to stop it. You return the kiss, your hands gripping at his blazer as you bring him closer. The only sounds filling the air are the wet, slow kisses being exchanged between you and Seokjin.

"Jin, stop. No." You gently push him away, your hands pressed against his chest. "Don't. Not here." You look at him before walking off.

Fuck.

Even if your ass went home with Jungkook tonight, you couldn't even see yourself fucking him because of Seokjin solely. You were too caught up and that was the fucking truth. There was no way you were unraveling from his finger. He had you wrapped tightly and you had no intention of even trying to let that shit go.

That's the tea. The honest tea.

"What happened?" Jungkook comes to you, feeling how cold your skin is as he rubs his hands down your arms.

"Had to take a detour." You nodded towards the line at the hall bathroom.

"Shit, sorry babygirl. You should have used my jacket."

"I'm okay. Thank you." You smile, gently squeezing his hand before making your way to your friends. Sooner or later, all of you decide to call it a night being that the crowd is slowly dying and you've all had your fill. Jungkook says bye to Jin and Grace, with you following. Jin keeps his eyes on you, even as you're walking away and out of the hall.

He really hopes you aren't staying with Jungkook tonight.

And, you're not. Jungkook simply drives you home and walks you up to your apartment like he usually does. He gives you a peck on the lips outside of your door before he's able to finally pull away from the hug he has you in and wish you goodnight. You had fun, and it gave you butterflies thinking about tonight. But you weren't exactly thinking about your friends and Jungkook and all that cute shit; you were thinking about how you succeeded, with Jin pulling you aside to lay some kisses on you even with the environment you two were in. Risky shit. Risky business. You fucking loved it.

You decide to pick yourself up out of the long, steamy, hot bath you soaked yourself in for the past 30 minutes or hour, you aren't even sure anymore. Your body felt relaxed and you felt like you could go to sleep peacefully. You lathered your body in some lotion, happily slipping your naked body under the covers. Sometimes, you just needed to do this every once in awhile. Show some love to your body, let it free. Your duvet covers felt nice against your skin, with you sinking in deeper until the comforter hugged every inch of your body.

As you were about to go to sleep, your phone flashed an incoming call across the screen. An incoming call you almost expected after tonight.

"Hello?"

"Hey." Jin's voice is deep and husky on the other end, causing you to bite your lip at how awfully sexy he sounds. It instantly reminds you of the way he groans your name. Quite frankly, it's turning you on.

"Why are you calling?"

"Can't sleep."

"I'm assuming Grace is asleep already."

"Yeah, she is." You hear him fiddling in the background, door softly shutting as he makes his way around the house and out to his car. Jin sits in the driver's seat just so he can talk to you without having to quiet himself down. Truthfully, he just wanted to hear your voice. "Did you enjoy tonight?"

"Yeah, it was enjoyable at best. Did you?"

"Besides the fact that I had to watch Kook be all up on you, I guess it was alright."

"Jealousy honestly looks good on you." You joke.

"It's not funny, Y/N."

"Boohoo." You sarcastically respond, chuckling.

"Yeah, keep it up. What are you doing?" You bit your bottom lip, excited to get him started again.

"I'm in bed. Naked."

"Mmm." He breathily responds. "Don't do that."

"Don't do what?"

"Don't tell me these things."

"But I am. Why would I hide it? You've seen me naked."

"That doesn't help anything." You're honestly feeling yourself right now, and you're pretty fucking horny hearing his voice alone. You wanted him badly, but you couldn't have him. You just wanted to feel him after tonight, be in his arms, have him tug on your hair - all that good good. Teasing was the next best thing you could do, an added bonus if he could make you cum over the phone.

"Jin." You say softly.

"Mhm?"

"I want you." It's silent for a moment before he sighs and lightly groans.

"Y/N, god. Please don't."

"I wish you could fuck me right now." You hear him mumble a quick 'fuck' before he's sighing again.

"Are you touching yourself?"

"What would you do if I said yes?"

"Let me hear you." You bite your bottom lip as you're actually moving your fingers in circular motions on your clit, a heel planted on the bed to give yourself more room. You moan into the phone, Jin staying completely quiet on the other end. You weren't sure if he was joining along, but whatever, fuck it. You were just worried about cumming at this point, whether he came with you or not.

"I want you to fuck me so bad. I want you to—mmmmfff." You lightly moan. "I want you to fill me up, and fuck me from behind. And pull on my hair like you do."

"Fuck, Y/N." He breathes as he begins to palm himself. "I swear I'm gonna fuck you so good the next time I can have you to myself." You start to insert a digit into your wet pussy, the sounds filling the air. You had shut your eyes, imagining that Jin was there the entire time with his plump lips pressed against your clit, causing you to moan loudly once more into the phone. The sounds of your wetness against your fingers loudly fills the room, you're sure Jin can hear it.

"Can you hear how wet you make me?"

"You're so fucking hot." He softly groans. "Wanna feel you so bad." You start to pick up the pace with your fingers, alternating between pumping them in and spreading your wetness out on your folds before rubbing on your clit.

"Wanna feel you deep inside of me, hitting my spot." You whine. "God, I'm gonna cum just thinking about it."

"Yeah?" You feel yourself getting close, only moments away before you tip and hurl over the edge. "Cum for me, baby. I wanna hear you." Jin is so fucking turned on right now just hearing you, and it's taking everything in him not to drive off and head to your place. He will literally blow his load right into his boxer briefs with the way you're talking and moaning for him. He quietly sits as he continues to palm and slowly jerk himself off in the car, listening to the way you're moaning loudly over the phone, calling his name along with cuss words trailing. He tilts his head back in pleasure, his eyes shut as he listens to your tone increase, signaling that you were about to cum.

"Ughhhhhgggfuck." You say as you let your body tremble freely, aftershocks rippling through your body as you release your fingers.

"Fuck." You hear Jin groan. "Thanks, now I have to clean myself up."

"You're welcome."

"I wanna see you soon."

"I don't know how you're going to make that happen."

"I'll find a way, I always do. Will you let me come see you?"

"Yeah." Is all you say, because you do want to see him. You do want to be with him and you do want to be in his arms.

"Okay." It's silent for a minute before he chimes in again. "I'll let you get some sleep, I need to get back inside anyways."

"Mmmkay." You hum.

"Night, pretty girl."

"Goodnight to you too, Jin." You sit your phone back onto your night stand before getting up to wash yourself up once again. At this point, you weren't even sure of your own feelings. Did you just enjoy fucking Seokjin because of the thrill and all the risks? Or, were you actually falling for him? There were so many things that you didn't entertain with Jungkook or other men because you couldn't see it being anyone else other than Jin. You wanted him to hold you, you wanted him to cater to you, you wanted him. But you always had to come to terms with the painful truth.

93 notes · View notes

jenivi7 · 3 years

Text

First Lines Tagging Meme

I'M SO HAPPY TO BE TAGGED IN THIS TWICE! Thank you @ink-flavored and @clyde-side !! (I almost just did this on my own too because I love babbling about my own fics...)

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line.

Now pinned and under a cut because it became a really long, really good introduction to me and my stories!

Hello!

Unnecessary and overly wordy introduction/personal musings: I love opening lines so much. When I worked at a bookstore, I used to open books and hardcore judge them on their first lines. I had barely any free time to read at that point so if it didn’t grab me in the first line or two, I put it back. The first Harry Potter book is actually in my pile of really good openers. “Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.” (Subtle alliteration, HELLO??) So I'm super excited to see if my own first lines come even close to the standards that I apply to other people lol. MY OWN MONEY IS ON NO. I have the feeling that I'm so frantic trying to get the story down on paper before the good words disappear from my head that I'm not actually paying attention to the first line. BUT LET'S SEE, SHALL WE.

So just straight up going backwards, I've written and posted TWO BRAND NEW THINGS after being away from fandom almost entirely for 10+ years! They're drabble length but they're shiny and new! <3 (All available fics are linked!)

1. Tango:

She teaches them to dance so that they can dance with her but when Atem gets that mischievous smirk on his face and pulls Yugi into his arms, their bodies spark and the dance floor smolders at their heels.

(The fic is so short that this is a full 1/5 of it but actually, I think I crammed all the good stuff right into that first line. This already might be my favorite. Like it says there in the line itself, Puzzleshipping.)

2. No Betting:

Anzu sat at the kitchen table writing carefully calculated answers onto sticky notes before attaching them to a fourth-grade math worksheet.

(Peachshipping! This one doesn't pop off until about line five so here's the rest of that bit:)

She had the same arrangement with her spouse as most parents had. When the kids were good they were hers. When they were bad, they were his. And when they were winning at games because they picked up rules with uncanny speed and read their opponents with more insight than ought to be available to a child, they were definitely, definitely his.

3. If you wanted honesty that's all you had to say (working title):

When he realized that the figure sitting under the game shop display window and smoking wasn’t Ryou, the physical body response was as though it had discovered a coiled snake not two feet away.

(This one! It's a NEW half finished(?) WIP. I actually started this one before the drabbles but wanted to finish before posting it. Then it got out of hand, then work got out of hand, then I started a couple more projects and well. I keep putting words on it though and eventually there will be a Kleptoshipper that turns into Puzzle and Tender for your reading enjoyment. Also, fair warning - don't use song lyrics as a working title. Every time I look at the document I get the song stuck in my head.)

Now we have polished up reposts of old stories for their move to AO3, where I'll basically keep my master archive. Not full re-writes but I fixed a bunch of typos and awkward sentences and they're much stronger for it. Most of these are from a pairings contest way back when so LOTS of different pairings and lots of AUs!

4. Human:

It was like a bad noir, the thought crossed both of their minds.

(Scifi AU, Rivalshipping. That one's not bad for a first line. Actually no link at the time of writing cause the re-edit is going up in like, a half hour? an hour? a half day? It's my next project after finishing this, finishing up the edit and posting it on AO3. Now with link!)

5. Blood:

Fingers through midnight black hair, whispers in his ear, touches that sizzled along the skin, awakening nerves and senses.

(Dungeonshipping, Pegasus x Otogi, vampires AU. Oh that’s a nice first line! <3)

6. Crazy for You:

The keys are too large and too heavy for the doctor more used to more modern facilities but she doesn't say anything, just follows the orderly as he pulls the large door open.

(Manipulashipping, Anzu x Marik, Psychward AU. Still one of my favorites from that era. Big bold warning though, THIS ONE CONTAINS NON-CON)

7. Finality:

“What are you doing here?”

“Saying goodbye.” Bakura’s translucent arms swept across the graveyard. “Is this not an appropriate place for it?”

(First two or so bits of dialogue as the first first is a generic question. You can tell this is one of the really old ones just by that but it's a sweet, sad little Tendershipper that still has a special place in my heart.)

8. Pieces of You:

Glitter caught the light, leaving shimmering trails in the air as it got everywhere.

(Glittershipping, Anzu x Kisara. Another one that's special to me. Kisara is my girl and my first writing muse. <3)

9. Cambodia:

“It was summer of fifty three...”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute, it can't have been fifty three. You might be that ancient but I'm not. It must have been sixty three.”

(Jiishipping. Yes. Sugoroku x Arthur. HEY, IT CAME UP IN THE RANDOM DRAW FOR THE SHIPPING CONTEST OK. And my writer's brain hasn't backed down from a challenge yet... Another one that takes 4 lines to pop off but it's a good start. Actually, here's the rest of the bit just because I cannot get enough of these two bickering:)

“What do you mean it must have been sixty three? You don't even know what story I'm trying to tell.”

“Am I in it?”

“What?”

“So you're deaf now as well as daft? AM I IN IT?”

“Of course you're in it, y'old coot. Don't know why I'd tell a story without you in it when both grandkids are sitting here.”

10. Coffee and Cigarettes:

"Cigarettes and coffee? That's not a very healthy lunch."

Mana crossed her legs and took a refined sip of her own coffee even as her company was not.

(Mischiefshipping, Mana x Thief King Bakura. Oh this one I'm actually sad that it doesn't immediately sparkle in the first line cause it's one of my absolute favorites of everything I've written. And I think it's the only time I've ever written Mana but I LOVED IT AND HER. Oh no! I lied, I've written her at least one other time though I don't think that one quite captures her sheer chaos energy like this one does.)

11. A Million Missed Chances:

Somewhere along the line, someone made a choice.

(This one. THIS ONE. I think this is by far the most epic idea I've tackled. I still don't know if the sheer scale of the thing came across in the actual fic but in my head it was massive and I remember pounding away at my teeny tiny laptop late at night because the whole thing hit me maybe a day or so before the story was due for the pairings contest. We only had a week to write each fic and my really good ideas never came to me before the very last minute. T.T Conquestshipping, Mai x Valon.)

12. A Fear of Falling:

She drove.

Like she always did when something bothered her.

(Oh the first chapter on this is also one of the really ancient ones. Like one of the very first things I wrote. That first chapter really shows its age and is a little shaky but the others are better and the last one is what fits into the chorological order here. Polarshipping, Jou x Mai. One of my very first ships. Probably THE first actually <3)

13. What Our Creators Make Us:

"Well, well." The match flared, scattering dark shadows until it was blown out and the only light that remained was the red glow from the cigarette end. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

(Psychoshipping, Marik x Spirit of the Ring Bakura. With a bit of Bronze, Angst and Tender in the follow up. Old but I'm ridiculously proud of it, hence it's place in the master archive. Ahaha you can tell how old it is though by how clever I think I am. I thought it was funny to make my audience figure out who was talking and not reveal the characters for a good fourth to third of the fic. Ahhhhhhh. Sorry about past me.)

14. A Revolution of the Spirit:

It wasn't fair. It just wasn't.

That they were close was understandable (you don't get much closer than sharing headspace) but that even now, after deals were made with gods, endless arguments, compromises and the ultimate guilt trip that he had only been a teenager when he willingly sacrificed himself for all of humanity, things she had only half seen and only partly understood even though they had all been there to witness, that even now Atem continued to invade Yugi's personal space as though he belonged there got on her nerves.

(Woah Nelly! That third sentence should probably be three, four and five. Even if I just split it in half we'd continue the pattern of things popping off in the fourth line. I think that's one pattern that's emerging! A really good bit takes me about four lines to set up and deliver! Oh, the challenge was Revolutionshipping, Anzu x Atem, but the fic is actually Spiritshipping, Anzu x Yugi x Atem.)

So confession time, I haven't been out of fandom completely, I just hadn't written my own standalone stories in a very long time. There are a few (ok ok more than a few) long-running rps that @miss-moberg and I have been adding to on and off over the years. I can't resist throwing in a couple of these.

15. Cafe!

The door shut behind them with the soft click of the latch and the exhale of a breath long held.

(This opening line was from December of 2020 when we rebooted a very old Prideshipper and that is a damn good opening line if I do say so myself. I can definitely see the difference now between the newer works and the older ones. I've gotten better, she's matched me pace for pace and eventually something will be finished, I'll work up the courage to ask permission to post it and the whole internet will get to see how brilliant the two of us are together.)

16. Treasure Hunt!

"Ryou, I think you're going to regret letting me tag along on your adventuring this time." Yugi didn't bother turning away from the airplane's tiny window to see if his seatmate was paying attention. He was more thinking out loud with his friend playing the role of a convenient sounding board. "Because I think this trip is the only thing I'm going to talk about ever again."

(One more from RP because it's got that fun, four line punch that we've discovered is a pattern for me! Opening entry is from 2017.)

Also, in truth, my count is a little off when I say I'd been out of fandom 10+ years. I've been away from YGO for that long but I did spend a brief stint in Homestuck where I read a ton of fanfic, flirted with a couple group RPs and even wrote a tiny bit. 9 years without writing a new fic isn't as impressive as saying ‘over a decade’ but it is a little more accurate.

17. What You Will:

In the land of fair Illyria, along a small, sandy stretch of its rocky shore, a ship has come to ruin and one lone woman lies still as death among broken wood.

(The beginning of a Homestuck/Twelfth Night crossover that I'm still determined to work more on someday. It's only got a single chapter but it's magic though now I'm concerned about not being able to recapture that. Not a bad first line though. The style is so different it took me reading it a couple times before going, oh yeeeeeah, that's pretty good!)

18. Relentless:

You pull him to the deck and then across it by the remains of his shirt. Let him say one last goodbye. His ship pillaged, his crew murdered, his hands bound behind his back and at your mercy.

Funny word, that. Mercy.

(The first line is pretty decent but there's that four line combo again! Five but I could basically fix that with a comma. Featuring the troll ancestors Mindfang and Dualscar because every time Hussey introduced new characters they were instantly my favorite.)

19. Black:

There is dark and there is dark and there is dark and then there is black. She is black. Licorice and coal. She is hate and resentment and everything that tastes bitter, the kind of black that coats the tongue like oil, drips down the back of the throat and keeps going.

(Oh wow. Am I allowed to say that about my own work? A Terezi/Vriska drabble that I'm putting as much here as I think I can get away with because it's so good that it fucks me up a little going back and reading it.)

And here it gets tricky because I think the more recent of the old, old fics are in the Drabbles and Shorts collection on ff.net and I can't see a post date. So I'll just pick a good one to end on.

20. Two Princes:

It was inevitable as the rising of Ra's chariot after a long night, as the flooding of the river banks every spring, and Atem always knew that Yugi's kiss would be as warm and gentle as the evening breeze in the summer that brought relief from the scorching day. It was.

(How about the final honor going to more Puzzle/Blind? This probably has the strongest first line of its era. Actually I'm not sure when it was written. It was just hanging out in my writing folder and, thinking about it, I probably wrote it when I was fading from fandom the first time around but still trying to hang in there. No wait! That’s too sad, we can’t end on that! Lets add one more to the list for the sake of personal narrative!)

21. Linger:

The world doesn't need him anymore. It doesn't need his sword and it doesn't need his pen.

(A tiny Princess Tutu afterward that I wrote for myself. Nice one-two punch in the opener. Also it rounds out the personal story that accidentally developed here with a line later in the fic, "Words, however, never stray far from a good writer..." Like, wait, stop. Past me, how did you know T.T)

Did that take a sudden emotional turn for anyone else or was that just me. Can I offset that a little with an honorable mention? Let’s do that while I collect myself. Here’s one more.

Honorable mention: Ryou and the Thief

There was a storm gathering and too much magic in the air. Much more than occurred naturally and magic at this level was never a good thing.

(I can’t have a list of things I’ve written without having Ryou and the Thief on it. If you click on this one though, BEWARE, it’s old, it’s silly and it has a ton of explicit gay sex that… would be written very differently if we were handling it today I’m sure! This is the first RP @miss-moberg and I ever did together and our excuse to Gemship and Puzzleship turned into us running the boys through a whole adventure based on the Osiris myth. It’s the longest thing I’ve ever completed and I’d still consider it kind of my legacy.)

And that’s the last 21(+1!) stories that I’ve written!

The clear winner of best first line for me is 15. Cafe! It’s short, elegant and manages to contain a whole mood even without the context of what’s going on and who’s involved. (Spoilers: It’s Seto and Mokuba making an AU escape from Gozoboro.) Close second is Tango, the most recent story. It’s neat to see just how much better I’ve gotten and also really cool to see that even if the first line itself doesn’t contain a punch, it’s usually because there’s a nice, strong idea being set up and delivered in the first four lines (or so). What a pleasant surprise!

AND WOW, this whole tag thing didn't need to be so long! Or personal! Seriously, if you get this tag from me the challenge is only to list the first lines to 20 stories and maybe try to draw one or two conclusions from them. You all thought I was joking when I said I loved talking about my own writing! But actually, I guess it’s fine like this as I ended up using it as a way to re-introduce myself. Like, "Hey, I used to live here a long time ago and oh my god I love what you've done with the place!" Rather than being someone who's just popped up out of nowhere a few weeks ago to creepily bother all your best of the best creators so....

^///^ Hello!

Thanks for letting me ramble!

Tags! I think I've seen most of the authors I follow do this already but on the off chance you haven't been tagged yet: @elexica (checked your blog to see if you'd already done the tag and saw that you're another person returning to writing fanfiction after 10+ years. Same! Hello!!), @danieco, @draconicmaw, @nedjemetsenen (has someone tagged you already?) and two shots in the dark, @miss-moberg and @edmondia (I'm so sorry you two. T.T Please feel free to block me forever.) And please, anyone else who wants to babble about their own writing! Do this, it was so much fun. <3

#ygo #yu-gi-oh #yugioh #yugioh fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #jenific #so many ships #so many characters like woah #not half bad for a retrospective if i do say so myself #thank you for coming to my ted talk #tag game #first lines tag

33 notes · View notes

thewrittingworldofeva · 3 years

Text

"God or Gods, does it matter?" PART.9

MASTERLIST

Base of the story:

“York is envied by the vikings and during the battle Ivar sees a Saxon girl fight with one of his warriors. The protagonist has a brother with the same disease as Ivar.”

N/A: Well, I have nothing to say... I am still surprise that I finish the part nine that fast, so I am happy ! ☺️ Hope you enjoy it ! 💕

The night as come, Ligeia did make everything possible to be as far as possible from Ivar or even King Harald. She doesn't trust him, and it seems that Ivar either doesn’t trust the King. The moon high in the sky, glowing on them, Ligeia carefully walks to the prison where Bishop Heahmund is detained, without being seen. There are no guards. Probably they were at the feast. The key was hanging on a hook next to the door, she took it and quietly entered the cell.

“Lord, deliver me in thy righteousness, and cause me to escape.” He kneeled, making his chains clanging. “Incline thine ear unto me and save me. Deliver me, O Lord, out of the hands of the wicked, out of the hands of the unrighteous and cruel man.” He joins his hands together in a prayer position. “For thou art... For thou art... For thou art my hope, O Lord.” He traces his face with his indexes, and lets them rest on his thighs.

Silence fills the room. Ligeia, who was hiding in the dark, stepped out in the light and clapped her hands. Heahmund raised his head, without showing his surprise to see her, alone.

“Well, well… You are pretty convincing, I almost felt pity for you. I was that close...” she says showing a little space between her thumb and her index. “...That close! To believe you!” exaggerate Ligeia. “What are you doing here?” He simply questioned. “I needed to know something.” she said leaning against the wall. “And what do you want to know?” he added. “I want to know what decision you are going to take.” she acknowledged. “Ivar the boneless and you, are difficult to…” she hesitates to what word she is going to use. “Read.”

“Why do you want to know the decision I will take ?” She looks away, playing with her hands. “If you choose to fight for him, you will be untouchable. Which, means that I can't take revenge on my family.”

For the second time the silence takes place. They just scan each other, trying to find their deepest and darkest secret. But the only thing that Heahmund it’s the crack sadness. She looks strong but she is broken inside. He broke her. Seeing the sadness taking his eyes, Ligeia ends the eye contact, breathes sharply and proceeds to leave the place furious. Furious against her, that she let him see her weakness.

When she arrived at the doors of the Great Hall, she took a deep breath, realizing that she was holding it all her way up here. She puts her hands on her face, breathing slowly, trying to calm her heartbeat. Her siblings don't need to know that she is struggling with the presence of the Bishop. They don’t know what happened that night, and who did it and why. And she thinks this is better that they don’t know the full story.

Ligeia pushes the door and enters the room crowded with people eating, drinking, laughing, and dancing. After just putting a foot in the room, Hvitserk stands up quite a bit drunk. “To the overthrow of the witch, Lagertha, and to the liberation of Kattegat!” All are cheering his words. “Skol!”

Astrid smiles immediately when she sees Ligeia and signs her to come next to her. When she sits down, the Queen serves her a drink. Rosalia instantly climbs on her laps. Ligeia kisses her on her rosy cheek and passes an arm around Apollo and also gives him a kiss. Holding them in her arms, she smiles looking at them. When they are all together she feels whole. Ivar looked at her speaking with Astrid over his glass of ale.

Her smile captivated him. She never smiles like this, since when they kidnapped them. A real true smile, that makes your eyes closed, raises your cheekbone and shows your teeth. He looked away and talked to Harald.

“So, when do we attack?” announced Ivar. “I will summon my jarls. And my ships still need to be repaired and made ready, as do yours. But when all this is done, we should have a fleet of at least ships.” wisely advised Harald. “There's a full moon tonight. Let us say that we will attack in two moons' time.” proposed Ivar. “I agree.” accept the King. “Skol.” cheers Ivar bringing his glass close to Harald’s. “Skol.”

Ivar, Harald and Astrid toast to this and take a sip. Harald leans closer to his wife, smiling. “It will be strange for you to return to Kattegat as a queen. Skol.” Ivar looked at the royal couple, the same as Ligeia, waiting for her reaction. She doesn’t answer, she just gives him a small smile and makes their cups clinking. “And here's to our sacred agreement.” he continued standing up getting everyone's attention. “Which if any man breaks, he will deserve to die. Skol!” Harald looks straight to Ivar pronouncing the sacred agreement. Ligeia looked at Ivar who didn't show anything, just looking back at the King. “Skol!” cheered the whole crowd. Harald starts singing and everyone knowing the lyrics follows. “♪ My mother told me ♪ ♪ Someday I would buy ♪ ♪ Galley with good oars sail to distant shores ♪”

Ligeia can feel tension between the King and Ivar, they seem to have been betrayed or betrayed. Which is not good at all. Ligeia sighs and decides that tonight she is enjoying herself and the moment with her siblings. Cheeks turning red because of alcohol. Alone, she is watching her brother talking with a young lady and at the same time she is keeping an eye on Rosalia who was dancing and giggling with Hvitserk. She looked at him and beamed proudly, seeing he isn’t aware of his charms.

Someone takes place next to her, but she doesn't care about keeping her eyes on Apollo and Rosalia. “If it’s to know if I participate in your war, the answer is still the same.” began Ligeia, sipping her cup. “Why not?” droned Ivar, tired of hearing her say the same thing. “First off, it is not my business. Secondly, I only fight for my family. And lastly, how am I supposed to protect my family on the battlefield, miles away from them?” spoke the Golden eyes lady finally looking at him. Ivar seems to be at a loss of word.

Ligeia brings back her attention to Apollo. The ginger head girl, lean closer to him and whisper something in his ear, making him blush lightly. She cracked a smile, the vision, lowering her head. Ivar, not having let go of his gaze, didn’t miss her smile. “It seems you know the Bishop?” he threw, waiting for her reaction behind his cup. “I wish I didn’t him…” she whispered more to herself. “How did you know him?” He interrogates her.

“He killed our parents.” She confesses without thinking twice. The viking wasn’t expecting this news. He was just sitting here, looking at her, not knowing what her next move will be. She stands up facing him. “Don’t worry, if he accepts your offer, nothing will happen to him.” she concludes before down in one of her drinks, sets down the cup on the table and leaves him alone.

tags : @youbloodymadgenius @al-lwiisa @funmadnessandbadassvikings @akaward-potato @otakufrenchfries @hugopowell @heavenly1927

#ivar #ivar the boneless #vikings #fanfiction

17 notes · View notes

simplybakugou · 4 years

Text

Sweet Summer Day

↝ Once you finally managed to go on a trip to the beach with your girlfriend, things started looking a little hazy as you had to chase away some boys pestering her.

BINGO SPACE: Summer Vacation

⋆ PAIRING: yaoyorozu x fem!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: flufff; swearing; creepy boys 🤮 ⋆ WORD COUNT: 1542

A/N: this is another piece for the @bnhabookclub bingo event! momo owns my whole heart so obviously this was fun to write even though its a little shitty :(. thank you to @merry-kuroo for requesting momo for this prompt! the momo transparent cap is from the bnha bookclub google drive!

also yes the title is named after a TWICE track lmao. thank you @bnhatrashh, the resident ONCE, for recommending me this BOP 💕

FULL BINGO MASTERLIST

✐posted 08.21.2020✐

It was the perfect day with your windows rolled down and the breeze ruffling through your hair. The radio was blasting your favorite song and while you were screeching along with the lyrics, your beautiful girlfriend who was practically flawless in every single way possible was sitting beside you as she hummed with the lyrics, making up for the chaos you were creating. Occasionally you would stop singing, wanting to hear Yaoyorozu’s soft voice that sounded like the gates to heaven opening with an angelic choir whisking you up to the sky but everytime she realized you stopped, she would stop singing as well, not wanting to be the only voice heard in the small space of your car.

It was an exciting day, one that you had been looking forward to for weeks since you found out that it was actually happening.

You, Yaoyorozu, and the rest of class A were finally on your way to becoming third years, your final year at U.A. High. Unlike every other summer, you wanted to do something fun. Usually you spent your summer breaks training and preparing for the next semester. Since you and Yaoyorozu had been dating your first year, you would often accompany her and help her study to strengthen her quirk and as much as you loved helping her out as much as you could, you wanted to spend your last summer as a high schooler with the one girl you loved and while having some fun at the same time.

You managed to convince Yaoyorozu to go on a little trip and spend some quality time with her to which she agreed to. Although she did suggest inviting the other girls, you wanted to be around your girlfriend and take this trip as a date with her and as much as you loved your friends, it was fun to go out with her on your own.

“Is that it?” Yaoyorozu asked, her eyes gleaming in fascination at the sight of the beach ahead of you.

You nodded, grinning at the sea sparkling from the sun’s rays, the sound of the seagulls squawking at people for food, and the many people hanging around the waves and the beachside under the sun. You parked the car, exiting the vehicle and immediately unloading your things as you couldn’t wait to feel the sand beneath your toes.

Yaoyorozu assisted you as you both walked onto the beach with two chairs, towels, and any other belongings you deemed as necessary. You were quick to set up the chairs, taking your shirt and bottoms off as you were clad in your swimwear as Yaoyorozu followed suit.

Yaoyorozu sat down on one of the chairs that you finished setting up, sighing as she slipped her sunglasses on as she was basking under the sun. How was this girl so stunning?

“There’s a shop down there; do you want me to get you anything?” You asked her as you pointed to the small shop right towards the outer part of the beach.

Yaoyorozu nodded, telling you she just wanted something light to eat since it had been a long drive to get there and neither of you had eaten anything. With what you and Yaoyorozu wanted to get in mind, you proceeded towards the shop, ready to fill your stomach with cheap food to fill your empty stomach.

While you were away and Yaoyorozu finally felt relaxed under the sun, feeling the stress already be alleviated as she sat there. Her short period of solace was cut short as a pair of teenage boys, who looked around her age, approached her. She removed her glasses, peering up at the boys curiously. “May I help you?”

The first boy sat down on the sand, smirking at her. “You seemed lonely over here so hopefully we can change that.”

“Um, actually I’m fine here, thank you,” Yaoyorozu said, laughing uncomfortably.

“Aw, come on, don’t make this weird,” the other boy cackled, rubbing his hands together. “Why don’t we help you out? You need someone to rub some sunscreen on for you?”

Yaoyorozu shook her head, visibly distraught from the pryful boys and how disturbing and intrusive their behavior was.

“Wait a second,” the first boy started, eyes widening excitedly before his friend could say anything. “You’re that chick from U.A.!”

“Oh shit, you’re right!” The other boy exclaimed. “No wonder you’re so hot. All the U.A. chicks are hot.”

At this moment you had thanked the cashier for the snacks as you paid for them, swinging the bag happily as you made your way back to Yaoyorozu. Expecting to still see her sitting down peacefully as she took some well deserved rest, you were granted with the sight of the two boys pestering her and hovering over her. She seemed uneasy as she tried to distance herself as best as she could from the boys even though they kept scooting closer and closer to her.

You sighed, already used to little creeps like Mineta harassing her at school and you and the other girls didn’t hesitate to put the little twerp in place. Fortunately you had a quirk that helped you maneuver the ground, no matter the material involved. Using your quirk, you created a barrier between the boys and Yaoyorozu, using said barrier to forcefully push them away from her. They rolled in opposite directions and Yaoyorozu met your eyes in gratitude.

“Hey, dipshits!” You called out to them, turning your head side to side so they both heard you. “Stay the fuck away from my girlfriend, you fucking creeps.”

The first boy stood up, aggravated and embarrassed that a girl had humiliated him in front of the girl he was poorly attempting to swoon. He strode towards you, standing right in front of you. “You trying to start something?”

“And what if I am?” You retorted, raising a brow at him.

Before the situation could escalate any further, Yaoyorozu pulled you away from him, not wanting you to be involved with something that could make you look bad online as you were already known for your abrasive behavior especially as a U.A. student. “We’ll be going now.”

As you both began walking along the shore, you peered over your shoulder, making sure the boys weren’t following you two. One of them started cursing you out from afar and you flipped them off in response and then you looked over to Yaoyorozu. “Why’d you pull me away?”

“I didn’t want you to get in a fight,” she said simply.

You scoffed. “Please, those assholes were bothering you, they needed a punch or two to the fucking head to humble them.”

Yaoyorozu giggled and you smiled at the sound. Although she never wanted to make you worry, whenever she was catcalled in this manner, she always felt down and upset with herself for something that other people do. She was a strong girl, you knew that better than anyone else, but when a boy calls her out and tries to hit on her, it’s different than a bunch of high school students being attacked by a group of villains. Yaoyorozu often felt disgusted with the boys’ behaviors, these two twerps and Mineta alike, but it put her in a vulnerable position during these situations, making her not know what to do at times.

That is until she met you. You and the other class A girls didn’t hesitate to put any pervish boy in place, no matter who it was. You weren’t afraid to beat anyone for even making your girlfriend upset and you would take action in a heartbeat.

And with you by her side, you made her feel confident, helped her realize how much of an outstanding girl she really is.

Yaoyorozu latched her arm with yours, smiling softly at you. “Should we continue where we left off before we were rudely interrupted?”

You nodded with the biggest grin on your face. “I thought you’d never ask.”

From there you ran directly into the crashing and raging waves, all while hand in hand with Yaoyorozu. The water cooled you down from the sun beaming down on both of you. You did whatever you could to make Yaoyorozu forget the two little brats who dared to make her frown. From building sandcastles to finding the prettiest shells in the depths of the sand, it was overall one of the most fun times you had in a while.

It was easy to forget that you were teenagers when you were treated like adults by your high school as you were put into difficult and dangerous situations once being attacked by the League of Villains numerous times. But times like these made it all better, or you could at least try to think that it made it better. You and Yaoyorozu made sure to spend the day doing every single activity that not only brought you joy but also made you both feel like your age for once.

Although the day started off a little rocky, thanks to your efforts in order to bring that angelic, pure, and loving smile onto her face, Yaoyorozu was able to have the best sweet summer day of her life.

If you’d like to be added to my taglist, please join here!

Taglist: @pinkcowgirleggpanda @xtsundere-princess @wesparklebitch @hot-pocket01 @iamthe-leaf @ahrininetales @kirisclementine @happygalaxymilkshake @hookedinto-fictionalworlds @entraptas-kid-sister @mirakeul @thatpeachybandgirl @iambashfulperson

#momo yaoyorozu x reader #yaoyorozu x reader #momo x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #momo yaoyorozu #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia imagines #boku no hero imagines #my hero academia #my hero academia imagines

71 notes · View notes

yeojaa · 4 years

Text

❪ TO THE MOON AND BACK! ❫

You use your one brain cell for love. It doesn’t always end well.

pairing. kth x named f!reader. jjk x named f!reader.

genre + rating. non-idol!au. fluff, a bit of angst. general.

tags / warnings. none! this chapter is pretty sad but also pretty happy? “balanced, as all things should be.” - thanos, and also me.

wc. 3.9k

chapter 11.

“Are you ever going to do anything with them?”

You’re so focused on the melody that you don’t recognize the words immediately, his voice playing somewhere beyond your recognition. It takes a long few moments of staring at Yoongi’s face, his moving lips, for you to realize he’s speaking to you.

Headphones are tugged off your head and carefully returned to the stand at your elbow.

“Sorry?”

“I said ‘are you ever going to do anything with them?’”

It feels like you’re missing an integral part of the conversation. Forehead furrows, following the lead of your mouth as it purses, little indent forming between your brows. “With what?”

“The songs.” He doesn’t have to say much more.

“Oh.” Your lack of answer doesn’t seem to deter him, his expression politely interested, if not a little tired. You feel a pang of guilt for the fact that you’ve had such long nights lately - sessions passing the stroke of midnight more often than not.

While it wasn’t your fault, you saw the toll it took on him - found evidence of it in the bags beneath his eyes, heavy enough to incur an additional charge at the airport counter.

He refocuses your attention: “Yes? No?”

“I… don’t know.” You hadn’t considered it, honestly. The songs had originally been written to give your misery an outlet. You’d never considered what would happen to them once they were fully formed.

You’re also not sure why he’s asking. It’s been at least four months since you’d even thought about them. Now they sat in the back of your mind, tucked away in a dusty box labelled JUNGKOOK along with a hundred other memories you weren’t sure you were ready to face yet.

“Can I use one then?”

That certainly isn’t what you’d expected.

“What?” It catches off your teeth, shattering over your tongue. You wonder how you look - if the surprise is glaring beneath your skin like neon light.

Yoongi grins, low and slow and full of gums. He must mistake your emotion for something else - excitement, maybe? - because he’s joining you in front of the computer, the imprint of his body still worn into the soft leather cushions he’s just vacated.

The same instant he drops into the seat beside you, he takes over the mouse, flicking through file folders with purpose. “I’m working on a new mixtape. I thought one of your songs might work well on it so I took the liberty of recording some vocals and mixing it to see.”

In any other situation, you’d be preening from the praise. Now, it only settles discomfort in your stomach.

“I don’t know,” you repeat, finally, after what seems like forever. He’s already pulled up the audio file and the beginning notes fill the enclosed space, sinking into your ears. It sounds amazing, of course. Everything he touches turns to gold. His voice is distinct, the delivery of lyrics so masterful you still don’t really know how he does it.

You listen in silence, admiring the way he’s managed to lay your original refrain with his effortless rap. It thrums in a low bass - utterly brilliant - and then your voice starts.

It hits you like a ton of bricks then, two thousand pounds of weight dropping your heart into the pit of your stomach. You don’t expect the reaction to be so polarizing. You hardly realize you’re locked into place, gaze trained on some freckle in the wood grain of the desk, until you’re physically pulled from it.

A hand settles on your shoulder, hesitant yet unyielding. It frames the bone and squeezes once, twice. Yoongi’s voice follows, softer than you anticipate. “Are you okay?”

The question repeats on a feedback loop. It turns over and over and over until there’s nothing left but a distortion of your own voice in your head. Were you okay? You’d thought so. Now, you weren’t so sure. Hearing the familiar melody is like reliving those eight excruciating months all over again.

“It sounds great,” you answer earnestly, in a voice that wobbles with emotion - a trapeze artist barely hanging on. You’re not lying; you wish your voice wasn’t so feeble.

“You’d get full credit, obviously.” Yoongi’s trying to soothe the ache he can’t quite understand. Not that he hasn’t tried. After all, he’d helped you bring all of this to life. He’d already done more than enough.

“Oh, thanks.” It’s a little watery and a little weak but you’re laughing and that stretches an almost triumphant grin across the producer’s face. It splits the casual indifference he normally wears, throwing the roundness of his cheeks into stark relief.

You can’t help but smile yourself, however small.

Still, it’s enough for him. You’re past the one-two sucker punch and he’s nearly all business again, studying the screen now that he knows you aren’t about to start bawling. You have to hand it to him - he’s a professional through and through.

“Did you mind if I took a look at your notes? I’m thinking we might want to do some ad libbing but I wasn’t sure if you’d considered that.”

You don’t think twice about it, handing your worn notebook over. The edges are tattered and it’s nearing the end, only half a dozen blank pages remaining. All the rest are filled with nonsense: half-formed lyrics, melodies stuck in your head, and—

“Are these about Jungkook?”

The question quite literally knocks the breath from your lungs. It takes you what feels like ages to regain control of your own anatomy, your jaw falling and rising in tandem with the drawn out beat of your heart. It feels strange - like you’re moving in slow motion.

Laid out before you - before him - are pages you’d poured your heart into over half a year ago. You recognize them because of the dogeared edges and the almost concerning pen strokes decorating the margins. Half the time you’d been writing about nothing at all, just putting your jumbled thoughts onto paper. The lyrics had only come after that, once you’d word vomited as much as you could.

You know what he’s reading now - not the verses you’d brought to life, but the heartbreak.

“No?” You’re not a great liar. It’s never been an issue until now.

He doesn’t do the disservice of belittling you or questioning you on it further. Instead, Yoongi remains decidedly silent; the quiet isn’t quite like any other. It’s careful and considerate, formed by unspoken questions and curiosity he holds close. Almost as if he’s giving you time, he flips through the pages with the strangest expression on his face.

Even when he’s done, he says nothing - meeting your horrified stare with something close to compassion. (Or pity, but that feels a whole lot worse.)

He waits for you to speak first. You don’t.

Finally, because it’s almost suffocating now, he hands your notebook back to you. Two hands - deeply respectful. You accept in the same fashion and try to ignore the tremor that runs the length of your fingers, slotting the journal back into your bag.

“Does he know?” There’s no judgment, no expectation.

You have to hand it to him - he’s handling this spectacularly well. Far better than you would be if you’d found out one of your best friend’s girlfriends had history with another of your best friends.

“Sort of.”

It’s the first reaction he gives that feels like it isn’t restrained, carefully packaged and offered only after it’s been perfected. “Sort of?” It rolls incredulously off his tongue.

“It’s a long story.” You don’t mean how defensive you sound. It’s just hard not to when the wound has been festering for so long and you’ve let it turn to rot, weeds sprouting around the Jungkook-shaped sadness you’ve tried to cover with a sheet.

“I have time.” He doesn’t mean it in any way but comforting. It still doesn’t feel right.

You begin with fiddling hands and eyes that won’t quite meet his, bouncing around the room like you’ll find solace in the muted light or the KAWS figurines that line the side wall. “We met in school - second year. He asked if the seat beside me was empty.” You’re proud of the way your voice doesn’t break - how it steels itself through the acid that boils in your veins.

“We… were friends.” The word has never quite matched what you’ve felt for him, even now. But then? It didn’t hold a candle to the torch you’d carried. “He honestly became my best friend, or something like that.” You try not to get too lost in the memory, holding tight to the present with white-knuckled fists. “We did everything together. We visited our families. We went to Disneyland.”

Surprise fits itself into the sea of his stare, recognition flickering like a lighthouse. You wonder how much he knows - if the nameless girl in Jungkook’s stories finally has a face.

“We were inseparable.” The smile you offer is mostly playful, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I guess, except for when he was with you guys. But at some point, the friendship changed. For me, at least.” You fiddle with the long end of your belt, scraping indigo nails over the glossy fabric. “I never acted on it, though. I knew I couldn’t. I didn’t want to ruin what we had.”

“Then how…” It trails off but the question lingers, hanging in the spaces between you.

“You know how hard he works.” Yoongi nods - of course he does. “Our last semester was… a lot. I don’t think I’d ever seen him so stressed out. We kind of let loose once we submitted our final projects.”

The little puzzle pieces you’re offering are slowly taking shape. A part of you - the part that hates picking at the poorly healed wound - wishes you could take it all back. You’re so close to the climax of the story and yet, you know it’ll be lacklustre. It’ll fall miles short of the cinematic masterpiece you’re sure Yoongi’s expecting.

There will be no grandiose declarations of affection and no heartbreaking rejections.

“I made the mistake of asking him to spend the night.” Heat eats up every surface of your skin, starting at the apples and ascending up over your temples. “And then… I left in the morning.”

Seated not two feet from you, Yoongi’s quiet breath is far louder than he means. It puffs out of his cheeks in surprise. “What do you mean you left?”

Whether the warmth is embarrassment or shame now, you’re not quite sure. It all feels the same, red hot and humiliating. “I left a note on my pillow.” You won’t meet his stare even as you can feel it digging into your skin.

“What did the note say?” By the way he speaks, you think he has an idea.

“Sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“No, the note. It said sorry.”

If looks could kill, you’d likely be six feet under. You’ve never seen so much exasperation - not even on your professor’s face when you’d beg for an extension literally seconds before a project was due. “And what else?”

“Nothing?” You say it like a question despite the fact you know the answer.

He’s pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. You’re practically gnawing a hole through your cheek.

“Then what happened?”

“We didn’t talk.”

“At all?” Watching him grow incrementally more frustrated is like observing an overworked stay-at-home mom losing her cool at the supermarket. It feels bad, discouraging, but you can’t look away. Not even when he stares at you like you’re the dumbest person he’s ever met.

“I mean…”

His expression begs you to spit it out.

“He tried once or twice, a few weeks later. But I still felt so bad so I didn’t say anything back. And then he stopped trying.” You know you’d let the silence go on too long, allowing the awkward tension to mutate into something worse. You’re not stupid.

The longest sigh greets your ears. “You guys slept together and then you ghosted him.”

When he puts it like that, it sounds infinitely worse. You frown deeply, shaking your head. It wasn’t like that. It was different - necessary.

“I didn’t ghost him!”

“You left a sticky note!”

“Because I didn’t want him to regret it! I didn’t want him to feel weird.”

“You honestly thought leaving your so-called best friend a note was better than talking to them?” The way he utters the title makes you squirm in your seat. You shouldn’t be surprised, though. If you’ve learned anything over the last ten months, it’s that Min Yoongi does not mince words. Not when it’s important.

“I was scared.” It’s not an excuse; it sounds like one.

“Things are scary. You get over it.” He has a point.

“It doesn’t matter now.” Unfortunately, so do you.

“I guess not.”

FLASHBACK Friday, June 21, 2019. 12 PM.

When he wakes up, it’s like the end of the world - except not with a whimper, but with a bang.

The evil monkey that comes out of hiding after he’s had too much to drink is loud and unbothered, clanging its stupid gold cymbals hard enough to rattle his teeth in his skull. The sound bounces around in his ears, digging past his usual post-drinking haze to directly assault his senses.

Rolling over doesn’t help. In fact, it somehow makes it worse, the sudden motion bringing about a tidal wave of nausea.

The feeling rises and crests, threatening to swallow him whole when he rolls onto his front and yanks his legs up beneath him. Face pressed into the warm topside of the pillow, he curls his arms around the underside and takes three deep breaths, trying his best to alleviate the discomfort in his chest.

It works albeit poorly, like the second wave is coming, creeping up just beyond the horizon.

“Fuck.” It’s grumbled into the soft cloth he’s presently trying to suffocate himself with. Jungkook whines another sound - not as loud as the clattering in his head or even very clear - and presses deeper into the pillow, inhaling deeply.

God, he feels awful. You were right - he definitely shouldn’t have had so much to drink.

You.

The same you who had tried to go shot for shot with him over dinner, only to tap out when he wrenched another glossy green bottle open. The same you who had held his hand on the way back to your side of campus and laughed when he’d crowded you in the elevator, pressing sloppy kisses all over your neck and shoulders. The same you who had moaned his name so prettily he can feel it even now, stirring something in the pit of his stomach that feels a helluva lot better than the liquor-induced ache.

The you that should be at his side - and yet isn’t.

He blinks owlishly against the straining morning light, how it fades in through your half-drawn blinds and spills over your side of the empty bed. A hand reaches - slow, because he’s still not in full control of his motor functions - and slips over the cotton.

It’s cold.

Another blink, another pat of his hand.

He’s definitely in your dorm. There are photos strung up across the walls - taken by you or of you - and your familiar leather jacket is hung over the back of your desk chair. Your too-many coffee cups sit beside your keyboard but your familiar canvas backpack is nowhere to be seen.

“Jiyeon-ah?” It’s more gravel and sleep than anything remotely coherent. He tries again.

Silence settles in the enclosed space and he wishes it’d do the same in his head. Where were you?

The flat of his palm roves across your sheets, fingers seeking out the cold hard surface of his phone. Maybe he’d left it in his pants? That seems probable but they’re also not on his person, likely left in a pile at the foot of the bed - along with his underwear and socks - and well, he’s terribly lazy.

Lazy and still way too hungover.

So Jungkook lays there and waits, comfortable in the bed he’s been in more than once, more than twice, more times than he can count on both hands. He tosses and he turns, not quite patient but also not ready to face the day. He figures you’ll be back soon.

Truthfully, he doesn’t mind. Your dorm’s like a second home to him, somewhere he’s crashed a few too many times after you’d both trudged back in the dead of night after losing track of time across town. He knows the sweet spot on your shower - where he needs to get it right before the water turns from mild to scalding - and the fact that you hide your favourite coffee in a crate under your bed. It’s nearly as much his as it is yours, though he’s sure you’d disagree.

Either way, he could very, very easily fall back asleep. He almost does.

The nausea settles and while moving too fast stirs it uncomfortably, he’s doing a lot better than he normally does. It’s just this-side of relaxing, with time that doesn’t pass in screeches and lulls, rather simply sliding by in the transition of red numbers on your bedside clock.

It’s only when he realizes that it’s been nearly two hours that he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he should get up.

With an exaggerated grunt, he pushes himself to his elbows, entire body groaning with the effort. While he might’ve felt fine mentally, his poor aching limbs were doing decidedly less well. It’s almost like he’d been hit by a fourteen-wheeler loaded with booze.

He sways with the force of it, nearly faceplanting back down on your pillows when he sees it.

A little neon yellow square with your messy, rounded Hangul scrawled in black Sharpie. Three characters, one word, one broken heart.

Mianhae.

It comes when you least expect it, straight out of the blue. Your eyes are trained on the same colour that spills across the sky, the hazy clouds drifting in and out of focus; the sun is playing hide and seek, splashing rays of warmth whenever you pass between tall grey buildings.

“I love you.” Three words. That’s all.

They roll off Taehyung’s tongue as easily as a breath from his lungs, filling the spacious interior of his German-built sports car. There’s nowhere for the proclamation to go, caught between four walls and two bodies and your wide-eyed stare. Not that he can even turn to admire the way your eyebrows have shot into your hairline, how your mouth gapes open like a fish out of water. He’d still probably call you cute. You know him.

“What?” You’ve found yourself repeating this same word a lot lately. With Jungkook, with Yoongi, and now, with your boyfriend, who seems terribly smug and not at all bothered.

He’s staring straight ahead, focused on the road in a way that you know isn’t wholly natural. You’ve spent enough time in this car with him, with his hand gripping yours, to know that driving is second nature and he does it like he does everything else - effortlessly.

“I love you.” It comes without missing a beat. The edge of his mouth curls, revealing his perfectly straight white teeth, and you can’t miss the mischief. You’d feel wary if you didn’t recognize it so well, how it lights up his insides and spills out brighter than the sun above your heads.

You ask because it’s funny and not because you care. “Are you pranking me, Kim Taehyung?”

He levels you with a look then, one just from his periphery. You can hardly make it out amongst the dark of his lashes, the velvet that brushes over his eyes because it’s just a little too long now. The hand on your knee squeezes experimentally, the cold metal of his rings digging into the soft of your thigh.

“Is my love a joke to you?”

“Maybe.” It’s a challenge - a playful, proverbial pat on the cheek.

The sound he makes is a mix between a growl and a laugh and 100% adorable, sweeping affection across your face in stretches, apples of your cheeks pulling wide. “You’re lucky - I still love you anyway.”

Every time he says it, it’s a little less jarring.

“You love me.” You repeat it not for the sake of doing so but to taste it on your tongue, to feel its weight. It’s much lighter than you’d anticipated, spun fairy floss and strawberry-scented bubbles rather than a newfound burden. It fills you without expectation, fitting itself in the little cracks and crevices without demanding more. Still, you want to give in return. It feels right. “I love you, too.”

Just like you love the smile that spreads like wildfire, boxy and distinctly him. It’s so endearing you swear you feel your heart trip in your chest, lovesick and enamoured.

He says it more to make you laugh than anything. “I know.”

You roll your eyes and meet him over the centre console, grateful that he’s found his familiar spot right down the street from his parents’ expansive home. You appreciate the little moments kept just for the two of you; you cherish them more than you can say, tucking them neatly into your pockets and behind your ears.

He presses forward for a kiss. You smell like citrus and floral - Sicilian lemons and just-bloomed lilacs - a scent he thinks he’ll never forget. When he rearranges himself in his seat, turning enough to drag you just that bit closer, he’s greeted with the sticky sweet musk - tonka beans and neroli - hidden beneath the curtain of your dark hair.

It doesn’t matter that you’ve got dinner in ten minutes or you’re sitting in the brightly lit street like two nervous high school students after a first date.

This time is for him and for you - a celebration of sorts.

So he kisses you again, though it’s not quite kissing. It’s more like worshipping and he takes his time doing it, wordless devotion roving over every inch he can possibly reach. He treats you like a god or a deity, treasuring you like you might grant him his heart’s greatest wish or that maybe you already have. It’s nice to imagine that.

“I love your bedhead.” Which is where he starts, right at your temple. They’re the softest presses - barely there trails of his dry, slightly chapped lips. He inhales that familiar lemony scent as he deposits sweetness in its wake - over your eyelids and down.

The line of his nose meets the contour of your cheekbone and he’s littering tender kisses along the rounded edge, all the way up to your ear. There’s a beat of hesitation - a will he, won’t he - before he drops his head further, nosing past the sensitive spot where neck and shoulder meet to brush over the column of your throat. It’s almost innocent until enamel catches, not nearly hard enough to blossom any colour but enough to draw forth the quietest sigh.

“And I love the way you sound.” The lecherous grin he offers is far too handsome. It doesn’t pull disgust and reproach as it should, especially not paired with the dainty kiss to your wrist. He lingers there, over blue veins that jump beneath his touch, and only moves onto the back of your hand once you huff an almost imperceptible sigh of impatience.

You receive five more kisses - one to each of your fingertips.

“I just love you.”

author note. three more chapters to go. ty for reading, as always! xo

68 notes · View notes

namjoonsyoongi · 4 years

Text

blurred lines | namgi

summary: what’s a few blowjobs between friends?

rating: M

word count: 4610

genre/tags: friends to lovers, friends with benefits, university au, comedy, crack, fluff, angst

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18663031

Namjoon and Yoongi have known eachother for as long as they could spell their own names, but that wasn't enough to keep Namjoon from wanting to slap his friend upside the head sometimes.

What did keep him from doing so were the little things. The song Yoongi wrote him for his seventeenth birthday, a last minute rap that lasted all of fifty seconds written on a crumbled sheet of lined paper; A song that Namjoon wouldn’t be able to remember even if someone put a gun to his head and told him to recite it. The way that he could read his mind on any given day and act accordingly, and how they’d have a conversation with one another through brief glances and raised eyebrows alone.

Yet he still managed to discover a way to be utterly infuriating.

The other night, the all too allusive Min Yoongi, cat-eyed and full of indifference, crawled into his bed in the middle of the night. Have you ever watched the flicking tongue of a snake as it slithered toward a mouse, and then looked away before it could swallow the mouse whole? That's what Yoongi was to Namjoon on nights like these, intruding into the covers and tangling himself in Namjoon's longer limbs.

Namjoon wouldn't have any issue with a few nighttime cuddles, Yoongi's was just one of the many affectionate boys in their group of friends, and wasn't anywhere near the worst of it. Jimin could be more attached to him than his own skin, and Taehyung was like a puppy in the way he needed constant verbal and physical affirmation to make sure they were, in fact, best friends forever.

Yoongi's not like that, not most of the time. He came with a purpose.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Yoongi was simply laying by Namjoon's side at this point, before rolling over into him. "I'm just annoyed with this project. I texted my lab partner, Seungwan, and she’s more lost than I am. I'm never gonna finish this dumb fucking -- stupid fucking -- fuck this project. I'm getting pissed just thinking about it."

"You should have never took engineering."

He really shouldn't have, but Namjoon knew why he did. He'd spent enough time at his house growing up to know of the expectations his parents had for him, as did every parent. Namjoon had almost fallen into the same trap, on track for medical school until one day, with the lyrics of Epik High's Fly on loop in his head, something stirred in him to stand up and say no. Namjoon spent his first year as a music major estranged from his parents, while Yoongi spent it as the epitome of the perfect son, and unhappy.

Namjoon spoke again. "On the brightside, only one more year."

"Shut up, please."

That was not the first night, where everything was different. Where those lines between friendship and lover blurred, for just an hour, sometimes two.

Yoongi, rather than sulk and complain, opted to release a kiss onto Namjoon's neck - and then another.

"Mm."

He keeps going, further and further, and Namjoon never tries to stop him, even when he knows he should. He palms the bulge in Yoongi's track pants, which seems to be exactly what he wants, and gets to work, going for just long enough until the warmth was enough to burn away any remaining irritation.

Namjoon never went all the way with Yoongi, but it would probably be pretty nice.

Yoongi's lips had that sweet taste of rum the first time, and it calmed the bitter flames of the vodka present in Namjoon's throat. He couldn't say for sure who made the first move, but he could perfectly recall the pleasant fuzz that clouded his senses, and the way Yoongi moaned as if no one could hear them, as if Jin wasn't in the next room over.

When Namjoon awoke, the faint memory of Yoongi's weight in his mattress was all that remained. Any semblance of permanency floated into the air like dust, he greeted a smirking all-knowing Jin the next morning and went to class none the wiser. A dream, he chalked the whole thing up to, just a weird dream.

"Can I be honest?"

"Go off."

"I'm starting to think Yoongi isn't exactly straight."

Silence.

Like a choir, Hoseok, Jimin, and Taehyung burst into loud, screeching laughter, accompanied with celebratory hand clapping and Hoseok throwing himself into Namjoon's lap because he can't keep his balance with the sheer humor of it all.

"-And you just realized this!?"

Namjoon swallowed something stuck in his throat.

It's during a brief period of peace with Yoongi, who's laying sprawled against Namjoon's chest, when he asks about it. Namjoon had meant to approach such a subject with the utmost eloquence and thoughtfulness - You can trust me with anything you know, sometimes I feel like you tell the others things you won't tell me. I never would have judged you if you told me you like more than just girls. Do you even know how much respect and appreciation I have for you? That I'll always have for you?

But what came out of Namjoon's mouth is, "Do you give all of us blowjobs?"

Yoongi didn't answer immediately. Namjoon lifted his neck, but all he could see was the black waves of hair on the top of his head, leaning against his chest. The air in the room fogged with the added tension, and Namjoon could only guess what Yoongi's face looked like.

He said nothing. Nothing . He shuffled out of the covers and away from him, leaving the room with the mundane click of the door closing behind him.

That was something Namjoon had always known about Yoongi, his silence was louder than anything, he never had to yell.

"Fool me once? Shame on me. Fool me twice? Shame on you. Suck my dick a third time and 'no homo' is officially off limits." Jin yelped into laughter at his own joke before Namjoon could even process the words.

This was why Namjoon came to Jin for absolutely nothing.

"You're not funny."

"You're gay," Jin said, practically basking in the glare he's earned from Namjoon. "-No excuses, you sucked his dick."

Namjoon rose from his seat. "Don't tell the others."

"Why not? The rest of us admitted we were at least a little gay freshman year, we've been waiting for your coming out for years - years!"

So you knew about Yoongi too? Namjoon wanted to ask. There was something humiliating about the fact people who Yoongi had known for three years knew more than the one who knew him for fifteen; An anchor of shame dropped silently into his empty gut.

"Not about that," Namjoon said instead, digging into the fridge for a can of beer. "About me and Yoongi, what we've been...you know."

"Oh no, I won't. That'd scar Jungkook and you know it, that's like when you find out that your mom and dad have sex for the first time."

He tossed the can of beer in his hand, not caring enough to see where it landed, if it smacked against the handsome face that was the older's pride, or broke something along the way.

"...I don't."

Namjoon detached from him, and Yoongi groaned once the cold air met his wet length. "Wh-What?"

"I don't give the others blow jobs, you're an asshole for saying that."

"I know, I'm sorry. Really." Namjoon, about to dip his head back under the covers, stopped to continue his thought. "Also, It's really hard to have a conversation with you while your dick is in my mouth." He moved to go under for a second time, and halted again. "Also, neither do I."

"Neither do you what?

"Give the others blowjobs."

"Good."

Shards of glass could cut you so easily, a sharp end that sinks deep into your skin, yet you don't immediately feel it when it does. That was the thing about them, he and Yoongi; Their bond was like glass, clear and delicate, it could break at one wrong move, with the simplest of words that hit the other in just the right place.

With someone as clumsy as he was, who has broken more than enough glass made objects, a connection like that was futile. Or that's what he thought, cause no matter how bad the fall, no matter how worse the cut, they somehow put themselves back together as if it had never been touched.

"Joon, your cup!"

Snapped forcefully from his reverie, the weight that had been steady in his hand slipped out before he could save it. The jarring sound of shattering glass cut out the white noise that had been playing as a soundtrack to his own thoughts.

He cursed, watching the reflective shards twinkle menacingly on the tiled floor. "Shit."

"You know, sometimes me and Jimin talk about getting a plastic set just for you." Jungkook jokes, it wasn't anything new to him.

"Let me guess! Namjoon bumped into something again." Jimin calls out, turning around the corner to be met with the new mess decorating the floor of his kitchen.

"He spaced out, I think."

"The last time you did this shit, I was stepping on tiny - like I swear microscopic pieces of glass that we couldn't clean up."

Jimin ushers Namjoon out with mumbled reassurances that everything was fine and the two of them would clean it up. Today was one of their regular get-togethers, but it'd be the last one before they'd return home for the holidays. Jimin thought it appropriate to replace their soft drinks with alcohol, alcohol which Namjoon had just spilled half a glass of onto the ground, along with the cup.

In the living room, sat the rest of them, gathered close around Jungkook's flat screen. Namjoon could hear the muted yet very present sound of crunching as Jin and Taehyung shared a bag of chips. Hoseok lounged in a recliner, leaning back and huddling into his blanket, mindlessly flicking through Netflix.

With midterms having marched to and fro and subsequently ruined their lives, Yoongi had been a bumbling mess of yawns and naps for the past month. All both Jin and Namjoon had seen of their roommate was him fast asleep on their couch and drooling on his study notes, and glimpses of him going to and from the school before locking himself in his room.

He wasn't here, Namjoon's shoulders slumped.

"Where's Yoongi?"

"Canceled," Hoseok muttered with a deep-set pout, not looking away from the screen.

"Since when?"

"Five minutes ago."

"Hobi's still pissed." Jin chimes in, the bag rustling as he picked it up and held it out to Namjoon.

Namjoon took a handful of chips, and watched as Hoseok’s pout only deepened, a rare darkness in his eyes that only appeared when you had truly committed the worst of his friendship sins. "I wouldn't be if it weren't for this being our last night here, or if he weren't ditching for Seungwan. I would never...we would never!"

The room lapses back into a silence, as if they imagine Namjoon can understand every word and name that had just left their mouths.

"Seungwan?"

Despite everything, Yoongi was always the one to initiate things. Even when he wore his favourite black skinny jeans, and Namjoon's eyes became glued to the gentle curves of his thighs and the belt that hugged his waist. Even when, just like that snake, he wanted nothing more to devour him whole - he didn't, he waited for him.

It felt strange to take what he knew wasn't truly his.

Then came those past two months, where Yoongi tiptoed around Namjoon, as if coming any closer would break him. Namjoon thought it all in his head, Yoongi was busy, he was an engineering major, he just had to focus. Namjoon thought he was the one who could always make him focus, rejuvenate him, perhaps he was wrong. He was fine with that.

In reality, however, there was Seungwan. Pretty girl Seungwan, with her delicate face and cherry coloured lips. Slim and yet plump just where it mattered.

Jin's words hit so cold that icicles could have formed from his lips. "Seungwan and Yoongi have been dating for the past 2 months."

Why didn't you tell me sooner? Namjoon wanted to yell back at him. Why didn't any of you tell me sooner? Why didn't Yoongi tell me sooner? His heart raged against his ribcage, it wanted to scream and shout too, it wanted to run away from the man child it was stuck in, and who idiotically decided to fall in love with his best friend. The best friend he didn't know was gay until he found his way into Namjoon's sheets, the best friend who never spoke about their moments of passion in the day, the best friend who couldn't care less.

"I'm gonna go get another drink," he said instead.

And so he moved on, moved forward. Swallowed the feelings and let them dissolve somewhere in his gut. The next time he'd see Yoongi, with Seungwan hanging off his arm, he'd smile graciously and greet the both of them. Observing Yoongi as he'd mask on a disinterested demeanor when he did something thoughtful for her. He'd welcome Seungwan like the morning sun, he'd laugh at the jokes she'd quip about all the little ticks Yoongi had that Namjoon was long accustomed to and support her when she’d eventually come to him with questions like “what type of food would Yoongi want me to get?”, “Do you think Yoongi would like this as a gift?”. He'd listen attentively to every word, as if she wasn't just echoing the thoughts and feelings that had planted into his very being like a weed, sprouting once again every time he thought he’d picked it out.

Or at least that's what he would have liked to say happened, and that's what would have happened, had it not been for the long road trip he was stuck on the morning after Namjoon found out about her.

A blanket of mist settles across their driveway like smoke. The overnight storm pelted away the flames of his intoxication, but the subsequent hangover pounded just as relentlessly.

By the car, a phantom stood, posture hunched. Yoongi looked like he was sinking into a black hole with his oversized winter coat, it was almost endearing.

Cute. Adorable actually.

Yoongi smirked. "Wow, who hit you with a bus?"

You.

The grey scarf flew from his pocket as he wrapped it around his neck and up his face, until all but his swollen eyes showed. "Let's just get this over with," He uttered, voice muffled.

It wasn't a ritual more than it was convenient for Yoongi to drive him back home for the holidays. Their houses were five minute walks between each other respectively, and Namjoon, with his immense lack of grace and poise, has never dared touch a steering wheel in his life. Yoongi liked to say he was his personal uber, then again he also liked to complain about how annoying that was.

On the passenger's side, his eyes catch a rip edged into the cushion with the tiniest of threads holding it together - How is this piece of shit car still alive, honestly? There he sits down stiffly, another place he has essentially spent the past several years making a home of, and the two set off.

The nausea was already striking, and not just from the hangover. Something boiled unwelcome in his chest, and ran all the way down to his abdomen.

Apparently he isn't doing a good job of hiding it, cause Yoongi speaks up and says, "Don't throw up in here."

"I won't. " He snaps back.

Fuck.

He used to think he was better than this, better at setting emotion aside in favour of the overall peace that'd remain instead. Lips zipped shut meant tranquility, and Namjoon valued that; Especially with him, he who he hates more than anything right now.

How...how? How did he fall for this badly acted charade, of course Yoongi never wanted him - like that - if he did, he would have said so.

Stop. Shut up. It isn't that serious.

His jaw locks.

But it really is.

Namjoon's an atheist, but for the first time in years he prays.

He prays that this ride will proceed in silence, because if not, the emotions he didn't have enough time to bury will overflow and drown whatever was left of he and Yoongi's relationship.

Fortunately, the prayer is answered, though sparingly. Identical looking streets pass by wordlessly, with Yoongi twisting and turning through roads and towns that Namjoon can't recognize. His eyes are too exhausted to focus on anything, not that there was anything worth looking at; Every building becomes a blur of mild colours, and the sky is as gray and dull as watching cement dry.

"We're close," Yoongi says.

Namjoon hums, along with the engine as the car slows down, going up a soft incline into a gas station.

The driver's side door opens, Yoongi huddling into his coat as a gust whistles into the vehicle. "I'll be right back."

Don't come back. Just leave me in here to shrivel up and die.

When Yoongi returns, rushing into his seat before shutting the door and ramming the engine again, he says nothing. But Namjoon can hear him, his indifference, a quality which he once admired.

He'd cut his tongue out if it meant he'd keep his mouth shut, but all he can do is sink his teeth into his bottom lip, deeper and deeper as the car pulls out.

"...Yoongi?"

"Yeah?"

Don't say it.

"What am I to you?"

The engine whines, filling the emptiness of the car.

"My best friend."

The nonchalance cuts Namjoon to the bone, until his lungs are clinging for life. His labour breathes repeatedly stab through the silence, and all he can do is stare, unanswered questions overflowing in his skull.

They've never talked about - them, what they were and what they did. Any conversations that went past platonic stayed in Namjoon's room and Namjoon's room only. Which is why now even implications of their deeper relationship felt forbidden, his lips clipped shut when the vaguest of words pass his mind.

But Namjoon doesn't have to be the one to say it.

Yoongi laughs, scratching his ear. "Maybe a best friend with benefits?"

The sharp edges of his eyes go a deeper shade of red, the hurt settling into the crevices. Acknowledgment, shouldn't that satisfy him?

"Still?" Namjoon asks, his voice barely a whisper.

The pink that dusts over Yoongi's cheek is rare. The sight nearly makes Namjoon's heart swell, until he's hit with the thought that Seungwan is on the older man's mind.

"I mean..." Yoongi clears his throat. "Yeah...if you still want-"

"And what about Seungwan?"

His brows furrow, almost offended. "What about her?"

The response boils in Namjoon's ear, like an off key note.

"Can't you be straightforward with me? Like you usually are?" Namjoon says.

"I am."

A snap cuts out his next thought.

They return their attention to the windshield, and watch as the wipers twist unnaturally before flying off the car into the highway, making a couple vengeful scratches across the windows along the way. All that's left of them is two little useless black nubs, which twitch as they try to operate without their second half.

"Aw, shit!" Yoongi curses, a veil of white particles smudging onto the windshield. The flight of snow has accelerated, rushing to the ground and with nothing to push the snow off their windshield, their view of the road is being eclipsed in white at an alarming rate. "I've gotta pullover."

The gravel hisses as Yoongi's car pulls over into the side of the road, coming to a full stop and leaning into his seat with a groan. "The wind must have been too harsh, they completely snapped off. I'm gonna have to call my parents to pick us up, we can't drive like this."

"Are we just leaving the car?"

"We'll lock it and probably get like - I don't know - someone to pick it up. That's gonna cost a shit load."

Namjoon expects the older of the two to pick up his phone and call his parents, but he doesn't and favours sulking back in his seat, hands rubbing his eyes and grumbling to himself. The stare catches onto his peach lips, and the way he's nibbling on his bottom lip.

"Yoongi..."

"Hm?"

"You looked stressed."

"Do I?" He remarks sarcastically, a grin pulling his lips.

Thoughts of Seungwan sink into the very corner of his head as he stares at his companion, someone who he truly has loved so dearly for as long as he could remember. He just wants to pretend he’s his, and hold him so tight that the mere thought of him ever leaving can’t cross Namjoon’s mind.

I just want to be with you, even if it’s only for a second.

"Do you want me to help?" Is all he says.

There's a pause, one that sucks all the air out of him. Yoongi almost laughs, a giddy smile on his face. But slowly, agonizingly, Yoongi's hands tumble down his face until they settle onto his neck. His eyelashes hover, and Namjoon follows them until they finally open and take in the eager and desperate man right in front of him. Yoongi's eyes, so deep and dark, swirling with a curious lust that the other is sinking into.

He doesn't speak, he nods earnestly, as if it was the question he’d been waiting to be asked all day, He leans into Namjoon's space, until their gazes tangle together. His lips, slightly chapped, barely brush over his, testing him.

Namjoon says yes; His large hands envelope his thin wrists, and pulls him forward so that their lips connect. Starting from the soft plump surface, the fuzzy feeling that alcohol can never recreate the same way runs into his veins, and he feels his heart already urging him forward with the strong and abrupt ache that develops.

He goes further, deepening the kiss as Yoongi's arms find their place around Namjoon's neck.

He doesn't know how long the kissing last until he manages to groan out a husky "c'mere," between the mess they're becoming. He breaks the kiss, waiting for Yoongi to come to him as the smaller tries his best to crawl onto Namjoon's lap in the cramped car. It's in that quiet moment that Namjoon realizes both of their coats are already off and probably somewhere in the backseat, lost to the heat of the moment.

He can already feel the growing bulge in the Yoongi's jeans, and the man impatiently moves to pull down his own zipper before Namjoon halts the action.

"Let me." He demands, voice husky and out of breath. His fingertips barely graze the metal, and stay there, playing with the sharp criss cross that leads up to the metal tab and enjoys the way the other fusses. Yoongi's head scurries into Namjoon's neck, biting in some kind of retaliation.

"Yoongi..."

"Godammit, what!" He exclaims, huffing warm breaths onto his neck.

"I want to go all the way - well, I wanna fuck you, I guess is the proper way to put it."

He feels the way Yoongi tenses up, and thrives in the flustered tremble that sticks to his voice.

"Y-Yeah. Then...Okay."

Finally, he pulls the zippers down, and helps Yoongi to raise himself up and pull it down to his ankles. Namjoon's hands strokes the newly exposed skin of his thighs, pale and covered in goosebumps.

Yoongi's hands in the meanwhile, begin to fiddle with the leather belt looped around Namjoon's own jeans. His eyes glazed with steam, like fresh mocha. Namjoon, for a first, lets him have his way as he loosens the pants and fights to pull them down.

"-And one more thing..." Namjoon whispers, leaving a kiss on the shell of his ear.

"What?"

"I love you. You know that right?"

"I love you, too." He says, adding the last part after a hesitant pause. “As more than...best friends. A lot more, actually.”

Namjoon smirks, lips trailing down the length of his neck.

"...Then prove it."

"Do you think it worked?" Jimin's voice flutters into the air; His chin is on the young Jungkook's shoulder, watching as his nimble hands maneuver a paint brush across the canvas, lips tight in concentration as he adds a strike of black.

Snowflakes dance gracefully across the glass window to their side, the ice that had once tangled into the earth leaving a mild frost in its wake. Nothing but whispers of the raging winter night was left.

"Of course it did. It was my idea." Seokjin declares, hands on his hips as he views the large gallery in Jungkook's workroom. He's bullied the youngest more than a few times about having a useless major, but his collection of artwork never ceased to amaze him. Maybe he won't be a beggar on the streets once he graduates afterall.

"What if they hate each other after this?" Hoseok says, a pout weighing down his face, a real one this time.

Seokin's broad shoulders shrug. "Then you'll have to live with the guilt, couldn't have done it without your A plus acting. Can't wait to see you at the Oscars next year."

A furious slap from Hoseok lands right on his upper arm, and Seokjin cries out as if he's just been stabbed, doe eyes wide and flickering with false innocence.

Taehyung grins, linking arms with Hoseok. "Don't worry about it too much, Hoseokie. Namjoon and Yoongi aren’t stupid, it won't be that long until he figures out Seungwan and Yoongi were never dating."

Is that so...Because they also spent the last year certain that no one but Seokjin knew about their frequent late night rendezvous, something Seokjin quickly learned was quite the opposite.

"Can someone remind me why Jin said they were again?" Jungkook chimes in.

"Jealousy makes the heart grow fonder, Kookie." Seokjin claims, the eldest always seemed to have wisdom to pass on, even if such words of wisdom fell on deaf ears. "Or I guess, more possessive."

"Why can't people just say they love someone when they love someone, it's not that difficult." That was easy for him to say. Jungkook's one and only crush throughout his first years of college was currently leaning over him and giggling softly into his ear, arms hugging his center.

Whenever he recounted he and Jimin's personal love story, it was a few short sentences, and went something along the lines of "met him at orientation and I thought he was cute. Became friends, then I told him I wanted him and we've been going strong ever since." No one in the room could even imagine a world in which Jungkook's desire could be rejected, or not returned back tenfold, let alone by lovestruck Park Jimin.

The pause in conversation lasts too long, and Jimin pipes up. "They're probably fucking in the car as we speak."

The room bursts into a series of gasps, boos, and broken laughter. The ringing that follows is barely audible, but Seokjin feels the phone buzz in his back pocket. He hushes the rowdy group, before picking up the call without much as a second thought.

“Hello~?”

There's a shuffling of clothes on the other side, but Yoongi's exasperated voice eventually comes onto the line.

“Each and every one of you are so fucking dead to me.”

#namgi #fanfiction #myfanfiction #kpop #bts #namgi fanfiction #kpop fanfiction #namjoon bts #yoongi bts #namjoon #yoongi #rpf

17 notes · View notes

bangtan-madi · 4 years

Text

546 Days Without You — Five: Day 44

Pairing — Seokjin x Reader

Tags — boyfriend!Seokjin, older brother!Yoongi, producer/songwriter!MC, military au (ish), idol au (ish)

Genre — fluff, angst

Word Count — 2.1k

Summary — Kim Seokjin is your entire world, and that world falls apart the moment he and your older brother Yoongi are conscripted into the South Korean military.

Part — 5 / 15

Warnings — Do I even have to say enlistment at this point? Last chapter with a warning for that. By now, you know that every post will at least reference it.

A/N — So someone asked about a taglist for this fic, and I think it’s a great idea! The list is at the bottom and it’s open! Comment if you’d like me to add you to the taglist and I’ll get you on there for future updates :)

(gif not mine. credit to original creator.)

Previous — Next

By mid-January, everyone is finally starting to get back to normal. After Hoseok's timely intervention, the holidays were a joyful time for the band. While there weren't any events or parties or New Year's Rockin' Eve, like last year, you were silently glad that peace was returning.

As the new year passes, everyone is pumped up and motivated to continue working on the next album. While still in the pre-production stages—melodies, lyrics, and concepts being solidified and meddled with—there are few places you'd rather be. Right in the middle of the chaos that is BTS, crafting alongside the boys, that's your happy place.

That's what dreams are made of.

"I'm kinda in love with this concept, not gonna lie," Namjoon laughs, reclining back in one of the studio chairs.

He's been behind the glass, practicing what you have so far on the namesake track for the next album, but you've hit a spot in the bridge that's more difficult than the last. Despite that, Namjoon has been much cheerier and light than usual. He adores this process, lives for it. It seems that the moonchild gets his best ideas when alone in the studio, after everyone else has long since gone home.

You, however, are about ready to hit your head against the desk. "I love it like my brothers; every now and then I want to kill them."

Namjoon snorts as you drop your tablet into your lap and let your head lull back. "I understand how you feel."

"No, you don't. Your big, genius brain thought up all of this. You get psychology and archetypes and theory like no one else, Joon. I mean, I knew we were going with another chapter of Map of the Soul, but don't you think 'Dream' is a little...I don't know, audacious?"

He smiles, showing off his dimples. "I prefer forward-thinking."

Your head turns back to the tablet, seeing the basic outline of the song in front of you. "Dream" was one that you and Namjoon were working on together. He had started the process with Yoongi, and thought it only right to end it with you. He and the Mins have always worked best together, and this song was going to be something special.

"Speaking of forward-thinking, I want to show you something."

Namjoon slips from his chair and scurries over to the producing equipment. Using the computer, he pulls up a file called, "From KSJ's, To MYN 2020.10.24."

"What's that?" you ask, the title of the file catching your eye.

"I'll show you if you promise to not cry."

"Um, why would I do that?"

Instead of answering, Namjoon clicks twice. It's an audio file, and you're overcome instantly with a voice you'd recognize anywhere.

Seokjin's angelic vocals start off soft and sweet, humming a peaceful melody that you've never heard before. Then they shift into soothing lyrics, and you can tell that they're meant for you. Phrases of love and emotion fill your ears, and breaking your promise to Namjoon, tears begin to brim. Seokjin's voice grows stronger as he belts out the chorus with all his heart. You've never heard him hit notes like that.

As the song comes to a close, Seokjin whispers the last line, adding to the end, "Love you, Jagi."

Silence follows. You can't bring yourself to move or speak or think of anything other than the beautiful song he'd recorded for you. Namjoon sits with you, in the quiet, eyes shifting every few moments to you then back to the equipment.

October 24th. That was the day you'd spent recording with Jungkook, the day Seokjin finished early, the day before he decided to enlist. He'd been awfully dodgy about his recording of that day. You had no idea what he was working on, only assuming that he was recording one of his parts for the new album's couple songs that had been pre-produced.

You never dreamed he was singing something just for you.

"He told me to show it to you after you were in a well enough head-space," Namjoon eventually says. "Saying goodbye's never been our strong suit. He wanted to make you feel like he was still here."

"It's beautiful," you murmur, your voice a whisper.

"Jin was thinking about including it on the upcoming album. He wanted you to make the final call. If you want to keep it just for yourself, that's totally okay. BigHit doesn't know about the piece, so we can keep it between us three if that's what you want."

You shake your head, turning to your friend with a small smile. "It's too pretty to keep to myself. The Army will love it. Seokjin deserves to be the one doted on for his solo. Put it on the roster."

Namjoon looks pleased with your decision, his dimples reappearing. "Maybe we should take off the message at the end, though. It might add to the rumors that have been circulating."

"By the time the album comes out, no one will remember me or those stupid rumors," you wave away his concern. "Keep it in. Jinnie left an 'I love you, Army,' message at the end of 'Moon' for the iTunes store. They'll probably think it's for them."

"And you would be okay with that?"

"More than okay." You nod to the computer. "Can—Can we listen to it again? One more time?"

Namjoon is happy to oblige, and the two of you settle in for another listen to Seokjin's last song.

After finishing at the studio, you decide to gather the courage and make the trek back to your apartment. Back home. It's late, and while the dorms might be closer, you know in your heart that it's time to face the music. It's been time for a while, but you've been too afraid of the shadows inside you to do the hard thing.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Namjoon offers, when you tell him your plans to stay at the apartment tonight.

You give the tall man a shoulder pat and shake of your head. "I'm good, Joonie. Thanks, though. You head home. I'll be by first thing in the morning. Tell the boys for me?"

Namjoon nods once, gives you a goodbye hug, and slips something into your hand as he turns to leave. "For you, from Seokjin."

When you open your hand, you mumble a soft "thank you" to the man already walking towards the dorms.

It's a thumb-drive with your name written in Seokjin's sloppy penmanship.

When you arrive at the apartment, passing through the gate and security, it takes all your courage to press the elevator button for your floor. Your heart races in anticipation. You haven't felt this nervous about going home since Seokjin asked you to move in.

But this is an entirely different type of nervousness. You have no idea how you'll feel when those doors open, when you put the key into the doorknob, when you enter the last place Seokjin and you slept side by side. Will you feel empty inside without him there, like it did right after he left? Or will you feel comfort from being around his things, like you feel around Yoongi's?

Only one way to know. With a burst of bravery, you step from the elevator, march up to your apartment door, and push inside.

The entrance corridor is dark, and the entire place is silent. You're used to music being on when you enter. If you're not playing something when you walk in, Seokjin has his playlist going in the background. And it's almost never dark. Even when no one is home, your silly boyfriend likes to leave some smaller lights on so that he wouldn't get scared. A smile graces your face at the memory.

Flicking the light switch, the entire space is illuminated with a soft, golden glow. With intrepid determination, you make your way to the kitchen, stepping over a pile of postage that's been slid under your door over the past few weeks. You put a kettle of water on the stove top. You take deep breaths, allowing the area around you to settle in your mind. Tea will help; tea always helps.

As the water comes to a boil, you tip-toe down the hallway to the master bedroom. It's exactly how you left it. Clothes are strewn across the furniture as you packed in a hurry. Those first few days after Seokjin and Yoongi left were the worst, and after the second, you knew you couldn't stay there any longer. You packed what you could find and fled to the safety of the dorms. While you could feel Seokjin everywhere, there was no place you felt him more than the bedroom you shared.

He's everywhere. In the clothing that has overtaken your closet, in the Mario knickknacks along the dresser, in the scent of air freshener that he adores, in the plethora of skincare and hair care products that he uses, even in the choice of bedding (he loves one particular kind of sheets that make everything cool on warm nights.) His smell, his belongings, him.

Seokjin is still everywhere, but this time you take it in with ease. This time, it doesn't hurt as much. This time, it gives you a little bit of peace.

As you feel the silence start to creep up on you, you take the thumb drive, plug it into your laptop, and play the only file in storage. Seokjin's voice fills the void, ever-present and comforting in your time of need. Even in the military, he's making sure you're cared for and feeling loved.

The warm feeling floods through you as you change into one of his baby pink sweaters, discarding the emotions and stress of the day along with your clothes. You make your tea, curl up in bed, and let Seokjin sing you to sleep.

It's the first night of dreamless sleep you've had since he left.

Early the next morning, as you're getting ready to head to the boys' dorms, there's a knock on your door. A small envelope is slid under your door, the usual way small post is delivered to each apartment by the attendant in the lobby. You pick it up, noticing the seal of the South Korean military on the face.

Seokjin. Your heart flutters when you realize this might be from him.

With hurried fingers, you tear open the parchment and reveal a neatly typed letter inside. Your eyes begin to take in what it says, never more happy to see an actual paper letter in your life.

Jagiya,

Please don't laugh at my lame attempt at a love letter. I wish I could just pick up the phone and call or text you, but we're not allowed those privileges for another few months. So, instead, I'm stuck typing everything out to send you the old-fashioned way. Make fun of me all you want when I get back.

Everything has been going well at basic training. Yoongi and I have been able to stick together since we're in the same training facility. We will graduate soon and be sent to our assigned units, more than likely splitting up. I'm hoping for a more lenient one closer to Seoul, that way my personal days can be spent in the city with you and the boys, but that's out of my control. I don't want you to worry! Both Yoongi and I are keeping our spirits up, and I hope you are doing the same.

Give my love and annoying hugs to the members. Tell my parents and hyung that I love them, too. They only let me send one damn letter, so it had to be to you. But I'll never hear the end of it if I don't at least mention the boys. You know how they can get.

Yoongi is going to write to you soon, and his letter should come shortly after mine. Knowing him, it will be much more poetic than mine. But at least I beat him to the finish line!

Please take care of yourself. Write me back, and I'll try to respond as quickly as I can.

I love you and miss you more every day, [Y/n]. Just promise me you won't find some other loser to date while I'm away! I'm still worldwide handsome, you know, even in the military.

Forever yours,

Seokjin

P.S. I hope you enjoyed your song ♡

Taglist — @joyful-jimin

42 notes · View notes

samwrights · 4 years

Text

Besitos - Punk!AU [Kuroo]

This is a continuation of Elixir. If you haven’t read the prologue, you can find that [here]. Enjoy the first part of Kuroo’s route! Images are not mine—pulled from Pinterest and google. If we find the artist, please let me know so I can tag them!

Author note: Song lyrics are shown in lines by themselves. Italicized lyrics are sung by you, while bolder lyrics are song by one of the boys. For which boy is singing, as it can get a little confusing, his name is mentioned before the lyrics.

Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, use of nicotine, and not so subtle hints of cheating.

Word count: 4,416

Song used: Besitos by Pierce The Veil

A complementary playlist can be found » here

“Actually, can we run Besitos again? We did okay, but I would really like to not be out of breath half way through.” Despite choosing this song as the opening, it was extremely challenging. You weren’t as adept at playing guitar as Kuroo and, while he wrote it so that your parts were simple, it was still difficult for you to add your charisma to the vocals. You were hesitant on opening with it at all, but the piece gave you the punch that your band was looking for. The work itself was a masterpiece and you made sure to tell your guitarist that. But very rarely did Elixir utilize not only you and Makki for vocals, but Kuroo himself as well was featured in pieces that had screaming. That, in addition to two guitars for a layered sound and a fast tempo, proved to be a challenge even after practicing for months.

Kuroo looked thrilled when you announced that was what you wished to work on—he put his whole heart into this song and it was obvious. After securing your guitar around your shoulders, he hands you a pick which you use to test out each of your strings. Ensuring they were tuned once again, you gave Terushima a thumbs up to start the beat with the fast roll of the snare drums. The rest of followed suit playing your respective riffs and licks before you started with your first verse, Makki’s one line of vocals adding an underlying harmony that converged seamlessly.

Better not get back up I spit my heart into this red cup

Timing was crucial in this song, to keep up with the pace. If even off for a second, on vocals especially, could throw the flow of the song, especially on yours and Kuroo’s parts. A favored element in this song that you’d never thought you would say was highlighting Makki’s vocal range, as he sang his line in a key higher than yours. According to the writer, Kuroo added in these bits and pieces to give your diaphragm a break, to which you were incredibly grateful for. The chorus was a slightly slower pace than the rest of the song which also granted you reprieve, as was one of Makki’s spoken word lines.

True love comes from more than just the heart.

By the second verse, you had grown more comfortable in your skin. Seeing as you had slightly less guitar parts in this moment, you had opted to move around like you would on stage, cradling your microphone in your hand. Was it a little weird having the girlfriends in the same room as you paraded around on your makeshift stage? Yes. Did you feel the glares coming from them as you leaned dangerously close to Makki while the bassist gave his gentle hums of backing vocals? Also yes. Did you give two fucks about any of it?

Absolutely not.

All you could feel was the electricity coursing through your veins as the song gave you the energy you were in desperate need for. Perhaps this was the reason you felt that the song was off—your first run through didn’t feel as right as this one did. The art of performance was missing, as you screwed around with your mates like you would during any other show. And for a song that showcased Elixir’s many talents from Terushima’s flawless ability to keep a beat regardless of subtle changes, to Makki’s own vocal abilities, to the fact that Kuroo knew his band so well and knew how to push the envelope, you needed to bring the performance.

The second chorus encapsulated all of the above traits, as the beat slowed down by a minuscule margin while Makki actually got to show off a bass solo, which Kuroo supported the groove by clapping in rhythm before transitioning into his small screaming section. Terushima slowed down the ground as we entered the final bridge—your favorite part: a spoken word section in which you and Makki teetered back and forth.

A diamond bullet and a gun made of gold She was covered in blood last seen in San Francisco.

If you’ve said it once, you’ve said six hundred times: Tetsurō Kuroo was a mad genius. He gave one more dignified bellow before the tempo was back at full speed, your fingers rushing to keep up with how much fun you’d been having prancing around. The four of you entered the final chorus, the additional line was your final line in the song to drive home another lyrical moment that you wanted to highlight forever before focusing on your outro solo.

You know I’ve never held a gun in my life But now I carry one around in case I see you tonight.

The boys closed out the last lines while you once again moved around, this time standing back to back with Kuroo as your fingers danced along your guitar strings to close out the song.

“Now that is what it’s supposed to sound like!” Kuroo cried out, overwhelmed with joy for a moment to hear his vision come to life.

“That was so fucking sick, dude!” You cried out, simultaneously putting your guitar off to the side to give Kuroo the hug he deserved. One that involved picking up your smaller frame by comparison off the ground and giving you a little twirl, which prompted a glare from his girlfriend but you couldn’t be bothered at the moment. Well, couldn’t be bothered until not only her but all of the girlfriends, whose names you still didn’t know, came to stand in front of the two of you and cleared your throat.

“I have to get going, Tetsurō.” She says while the other two are saying their own farewells. Maybe it should have come as a shock to you that she didn’t state a reason, or even more so that Kuroo didn’t even bother to ask.

“Cool, I’ll call ya later.” The raven haired boy says instead, pressing a brief kiss to her cheek, not even bothering to walk them out. They knew where the door was. “Alright, shall we continue?” You made a face at Kuroo, not wanting to announce the elephant in the room. But as soon as he caught the look, he rolled his eyes at you. “What?”

“Y’all ain’t even gonna walk ‘em out the door, huh?”

“Shut up, [name].”

“I’m just saying.” You said dramatically, walking to the mini fridge next to the stairs to grab yourself another beer.

“Yeah, yeah we’re shitty boyfriends.” Makki drawls. “Can we move on now? It’s been two hours and we’ve played three songs.”

“Four!” Teru counters.

“The same song twice doesn’t count. We still have six more songs to get through.” Kuroo spat out, taking a quit hit of his vape that was in his front right pocket.

“Alright, alright. Let’s move on from the songs we already did then.” You set your beer down at the foot of your microphone stand—a terrible idea, really considering you stomped around like a child throwing a tantrum. Especially considering the following song in the set list was another fast pace, thrasher type of song born of Terushima’s overactive imagination. In hindsight, you shouldn’t have put that beer there, as you had to clean up the spill when you had inevitably ended up knocking it over. While doing so, the two stoners of the group had retreated to the backyard to smoke another bowl while you and Kuroo stayed behind to clean the mess. “Hey, Tetsu. You good man?” You asked when you heard the sliding door close upstairs.

“Yeah? Why?”

“I dunno, just checking on you, I guess.”

“This about earlier?” His hazel eyes followed your form as you tossed the soaked paper towels into the nearby bin. Though his head was down, focused on making sure the alcohol didn’t stain the carpet, you gave a shrug in response. “I’m okay, I promise.”

“If you say so.” You concede, holding a hand out to pull him off the floor. Sluggishly, the other two walked in, eyes redder than Kuroo’s old Nekoma shirt that still somehow fit him despite having it for ten years. “Ah, great. We should wrap up practice before Cheech and Chong forget how to play their instruments.”

“Hey, I resent that!” Terushima jeered, swinging his drumsticks in his fingers. “I play just fine when I’m high!” You and Kuroo looked at each other before belting out a guffaw before the aforementioned guitarist grabbed his acoustic.

“Alright, alright come on ya dilltwats. We have a show tomorrow in case you forgot.” Despite the jab at the two boys who were now suiting up once again, Kuroo grabbed a nearby stool to sit in while you played your one acoustic piece, written by Hanamaki who acted as the primary vocalist for the song. And with your leisure time, you opted to squeeze yourself onto the wooden stool with Tetsu, cautious not to bump him while he played his guitar. When your harmony’s came up, you didn’t move, instead staring at Makki while the two of you sang to each other. Kuroo listened carefully, making sure you both were keeping time with him and Teru, all the while wishing you were singing to him instead. Thankfully, the rest of the set went by relatively smooth, considering they were older songs the four of you had already mastered and didn’t require as much finessing or fine tuning.

The clock struck 9pm, meaning that the four of you actually needed to end practice to be respectful towards Yūji’s parents who were going to be heading to bed soon. Before parting ways, you loaded up your band’s shitty little van with all the equipment you were going to need for tomorrow night’s show. After closing the door to the van and locking with padlocks, Makki perched an arm atop the crown of your head, his towering height allowing him to do so with ease. “Teru and I are going on a blunt cruise, you coming with, mom?” He asks, bending down and forward to gauge your reaction.

“How did I become the mom friend? I tell you all to fuck off and die like every three seconds.”

“You literally held off going to college for two years so that we could all go together.” Terushima points out bluntly, making Hanamaki laugh which inherently shook your head as he was still resting on you. “And you’re the oldest.”

“If I’m mom, who’s dad?”

“Kuroo.” The two laugh nearly uncontrollably for a solid minute before Teru holds up rolling papers an a small plastic baggie, silently reiterating Makki’s earlier question.

“Nah, I’ll skip tonight. I haven’t been feeling the greatest for the last few days and I don’t wanna feel like shit tomorrow.”

“Suit yourself!” The blonde drummer calls out before clambering into to Takahiro’s car. From inside the vehicle, you could hear the boisterous bass shaking all the way to the outside before the drove off, the sound traveling with them to be replaced with silence.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Tetsu.” You called out before sitting in your own car, repeating the same routine from earlier; click your safety belt, light a cigarette, bump your guilty pleasure playlist, and be on your merry way. It didn’t even occur to you that Kuroo had stood in the Terushima’s driveway, without ever moving to even enter his car. Despite how well practice had went, the text that Kuroo had received earlier from his girlfriend made him slightly uncomfortable. Or rather, his indifference to her text made him uncomfortable. But rather than continuing to have some strange form of an existential crisis, Kuroo brought himself to sit in his car, light a cigarette while pulling out of the driveway and head home.

You arrive home halfway through nine in the evening, immediately retreating to your couch and flicking on your favorite streaming service. For dull, background noise, you turn on an old favorite while mindlessly switching back and forth between the same three social media apps until you see the banner of a new notification coming in. Apparently, Kuroo could tell something was bothering you, according to the text he had just sent in. At first, you hesitated your response, even typing out an ellipses that you sent through before asking how he knew. “You always ask for favors when you’re sick. Ice cream, soup, ramen.” You pursed your lips, cursing internally at how well your best friend knew your tells. When you didn’t respond again, Kuroo chimed in with a text that simply said your name, following with, “wanna have a movie night?”

“Sounds good. I get pizza, you get beer?” Your fingers moved before your brain could stop and contemplate whether or not you even wanted company at the moment. Too late now, you figured, before placing your usual pizza order; as you breezed through another episode of whatever comedy you were watching until Kuroo let himself into your apartment. Fuck respecting privacy, he had told you once, as you had opted into giving him the spare key to your home.

“You haven’t even changed into sweats yet,” Kuroo muses as he finds you still curled in your sofa. “Something is wrong.”

“I’m okay,” your voice carries a teasing lilt to it as you echoed his words from earlier. “I promise.” Kuroo lets out a dry laugh as he rummaged through your kitchen cupboards, the sound clinking glasses and bottles sounding off before he joined you on the couch.

“For real, what’s bothering you?” The guitarist holds an arm up, his free hand holding the beer he poured for himself, to allow you to rest on his chest. Before taking him up on his offer, you grabbed the drink he poured for you, resting on the coffee table ahead of you, as well and touching your glass to his.

“You first.” You baited. And such was the nature of yours and Kuroo’s relationship—you knew each other all too well and always sought solace with each other. Kuroo could read you like a book, even if the book were inverted and translated into another language. Not only could he tell when you were upset—he knew how to fix it.

When it came to Kuroo, you never gave into his provocations. No matter much he tried to get a rise out of you, it was next to impossible with your steeled resolve. You knew Kuroo better than that, knew that he was a master of deflection and taking away focus off himself when it was centered around anything but his talent, expertise, and good looks. Feelings? Not his thing. But conversation would never progress between the two of you until he finally caved into your incessant questioning. A huge part of the reason Kuroo hesitated ever speaking on his feelings, you knew, was fear out of speaking his thoughts into existence. “I’m thinking about breaking up with Nanami.”

So that was her name.

Before conversation could go any further, the doorbell conveniently rang, signifying the delivery of your food. Setting down your glass and moving away from Kuroo, you opened the door, grabbing your food and handing a generous tip to the driver before re-situating yourself on the couch, all in a hurried pace. Unceremoniously, you all but tossed the pizza box on the coffee table. “Okay, you were saying?”

“I’m breaking up with Nanami.” The raven-haired boys voice comes painted with confidence the second time around, as if the few minutes you stepped away, he had found his own concrete resolve.

“Okay...” Out of discomfort, or maybe the rumbling of your stomach, you grab a slice, tucking your feet under your bottom to keep them warm. “Why?”

“She’s lying to me, for starters.” You cock a brow to him, silently wondering how he knew that. Instead of verbalizing a response, Kuroo hands you his phone, reaching for his own piece of pizza while you tried to not get grease on the glass. “She doesn’t have a brother.” He clarifies, seeing the confusion on your face upon reading the text that signified she was unable to come to the show tomorrow due to her brother conveniently coming back into town.

“Oh.” Now it made sense. Why anyone, especially a girlfriend, would lie about their sibling coming back into town was more than suspicious. The two of you had fallen quiet, blankly watching the moving images on the television while laying shoulder to shoulder, the silence comforting rather than awkward. But even in the silence with a beer in hand, Kuroo’s free hand that was once wrapped loosely around your shoulder was now resting atop one of your thighs—nothing out of the ordinary. While his verbal provocation wasn’t necessarily an effective tactic against you, subtle movements that tickled your skin often felt like torture by fire. He was goading you into speaking your troubles.

“C’mon, you can tell me anything.” While you couldn’t deny that, it was more so trying to figure out how to tell him your truth. How to tell him without sounding like you were crazy. It seems Kuroo knew this too, as he offered solace in the form of pulling you into his lap sideways, one arm wrapping around your shoulders while the other rested atop your thighs.

“Is it just me or has everything been weird between all of us?” You ask finally, opting to nestle into his tattooed neck as opposed to looking at him. The position was familiar and comfortable and it felt like home.

“No, it’s not just you.” Kuroo mumbles into the breadth of your scalp. “We’re growing up, babe. We’re adults with lives and our own homes and jobs.”

“The only home we’ve ever needed is each other.” Unable to muster a verbal response, Kuroo tightens his grip on you ever so slightly, shifting so that the two of were impossibly close, chest to chest. You make the mistake of tilting your head up to look at him in wonder. A mistake due to the fact that Kuroo was dangerously close, closer than you were aware of with his nose now touching yours. Your name leaves his lips in a broken whimper that sends jolts through every nerve ending in your body. “Tetsu, w—“ Before your protest could leave your lips, the hand that was resting in your lap came to cup your cheek and there was no stopping him. There was no quelling of the storm of Kuroo’s pent up emotions in this moment; he couldn’t anymore.

“Ten long years,” he says when he finally pulls away from the kiss that you hadn’t fought off. “I’ve been waiting ten years to do that.” You should feel relieved at the confession—relief that he returned the feelings you had buried at the bottom of the well. But nonetheless, this was not how you imagined this scenario playing out. Instead of relief, you were overcome with anxiety. Kuroo was still in a relationship for fuck’s sake! It didn’t matter that she was lying to him or that he clearly admitted that he wanted to break things off. It didn’t matter that you’d wanted to be with him since the day you met him at the coffee shop all those years ago or that it took everything in you not to give into your desires when you were roommates in university. The breathy exhale of your name that spills past his lips pulls you from your reverie, your eyes locking with his hazel ones.

There’s confusion and there’s guilt. There’s sadness and fear. But above all, there’s love in those shiny topaz gems that he is lucky to have as eyes. “Tetsu, you can’t do this.” The tremors in your voice give way to your own guilt. You may not have been a fan of his girlfriend, but that didn’t meant that any of this was okay. “It’s not fair.”

“You saw it yourself, she’s lying to me. She’s probably cheating on me—“

“Tetsurō, that doesn’t make it okay.” By now, you’ve resigned yourself to pushing off of his lap and creating as much distance between him and yourself as you could without outright leaving your own living room. But now that he had a taste of you, he couldn’t just let it go. No, not until he had you.

“You can’t tell me you didn’t feel it too.” That was besides the point. Of course you felt it too, you had all those years ago and still to this day. But just because you felt it, you both did, doesn’t change the reality of the situation. Just because you both were mutually pining after one another didn’t change the fact that Kuroo had made the decision to date somebody else rather than confessing his feelings to you. Not that you were any better, though you would use the excuse of defending your homeostasis as a friend group. Kuroo didn’t have that excuse when he changed the state of normalcy by attempting to bring somebody else to the front door of the home that was your friendship, yet he refused to let them in.

It wasn’t fair.

“That doesn’t make it okay,” You repeated, “and I think you should go.”

“No.” He was being stubborn now. “If it bothers you so fucking much, I’ll break up with her right now.”

“Kuroo, you have to do it because that’s what you want, not because that’s what I want.”

“So you admit that’s what you want?” Dammit, he had you there. Of course, you should be jumping for joy in this moment. But something about the way all of this started and transpired just didn’t feel right to you. Was it okay for your happiness to come at the expense of someone else? “Clearly, Nanami and I weren’t doing okay. I wouldn’t have already been thinking of breaking it off if we were.” He says again, reading the expression you didn’t even realize you were wearing. Sometimes having someone know you like every inch of his own tattooed skin was really frustrating.

“Do what you want,” you concede finally, “I’m gonna go smoke.” Pushing yourself off the couch, you grab your parka that was draped over a coat hook before slamming your front door behind you as you sat on your stoop. Flicking your lighter and setting fire to the tobacco leaves inside the tube, you could hear Kuroo on the phone on the inside. You had half a mind to start banging on your window—he was being too loud and you still had neighbors to be courteous of despite you slamming the door seconds ago. Bits and pieces of the conversation could be heard past the stone walls. Kuroo was raising his voice about the suspicious text Nanami had sent earlier, about how he knew she was lying. About how he really just didn’t give a shit about her.

Ouch.

No matter who was on the receiving end of that one, it still left you feeling the unpleasantries going on in your apartment. You’re halfway done with your cigarette when Kuroo finally joins you, his hair even more disheveled than normal. Probably from constant raking his calloused fingers through his raven locks. The guitarist takes a seat next to you on the steps leading up to your building, but remaining quiet. What was there to say in this moment? Sure, he did what you had been secretly wishing for since they started dating, but something about it all was just wrong. “She told me I was crazy for accusing her of cheating, that I was probably the one cheating.”

“Technically—“

“This isn’t the first time, [name].” All joking is out the window, and in rare occasion, Tetsurō Kuroo is serious. “She’s bailed on every single show with some stupid excuse but comes to our practices because she thinks that when we aren’t in public we’re all just having some crazy bukkake orgy.” A heavy exhale leaves his lungs as smoke billows past his lips. It isn’t often that Kuroo was the openly vulnerable one, often preferring to be the one everyone leaned on instead. It was the reason he never spoke his issues into existence, but Kuroo always gave more away in his body language than his words. “Why do you think she hated you so much?”

“To be fair, all the girlfriends hate me.”

“Because they all think that you’re just in it for dick.” A spluttered laugh merged with a cough that escaped you. Not that you were one to shy away from vulgarity, but the reasons for your existence in Elixir were vastly different than from what they thought that it was laughable. With a shake of your head, you flicked your now dead filter before lighting another one. It was a chain smoking kind of night.

“So now what?” With his free hand, Kuroo grabs one of yours, the rose and dagger tattoo on his hand catching your eyes. You always admired the artwork that littered his body; his knuckles were your favorite. Each digit held a letter of the word ‘HOMESICK’, save for the thumbs, as an homage to the way your friend group felt like home. He even said he got them for you.

“Just...let me hold you.” Kuroo’s love language, for as long as you could remember, was physical touch. Even when it was the four of you, he was touchy with the boys as well. He was never opposed to giving them hugs or even platonic kisses because he loved them. Truly, he did. With you, he had always needed to be touching you, whether it was a hand on your shoulder or the small of your back, holding onto your pinky finger with his own. Tetsu gave the best hugs.

As you crawled in between his slightly opened legs, you pressed your back into his chest while he leaned over you slightly, his warmth contradicting the bitter November cold. You realized then the dichotomy and dynamics between Kuroo’s relationships. While he was so open with your friend group, you realized you’d probably seen him kiss Teru more than his own girlfriend, even if it was platonic. Maybe it was a result of her own design, maybe she didn’t like the way stale smoke smelled on his skin and lips.

Does it even matter anymore?

You looked up at Kuroo as smoke left trickled past your lips, letting the smoke dance around his clean shaved chin. “Are we okay?” You asked quietly.

“Define ‘okay’?” He was baiting you again, trying to get you to openly speak about what was to come moving forward. Kuroo was trying to get you to define the relationship and, thankfully, you hadn’t taken the hook yet. “I spoke my piece, baby. It’s your turn.”

BONUS: texts between you and Kuroo, text from Nanami. I like including these to see if I’m capable of making an SMAU.

[ Elixir « Besitos » I Don’t Care ]

Let me know how you guys are liking this series so far?

Wanna see a specific character? Or a different head cannon? Want to see a whole story?

Send in requests!

#haikyuu smau #haikyuu!! imagine #haikyuu x reader #hq fanfic #hq fandom #tetsurou kuroo x reader #kuroo #kuroo tetsurou #punk!kuroo #punk!au #singer!reader #punk!reader #punk!haikyuu #punk!hanamaki #punk!terushima #mutual pining #samwrights

28 notes · View notes

robinskey · 5 years

Note

Slow dancing with stevie ❤️❤️❤️

If you want to be added to the tag list for a specific character/my writing in general, leave a reply or send me a message! Thanks again for reading. If you want to check out more of my writing, here’s my masterlist. :)A/N: This is Day 1 of my 12 Days of Ficmas! It’s not directly holiday-related, but I thought it would be a cute fluffy request to start with. :) This is just a little blurb/headcanon thingy, but I could definitely turn this into a full-length fic or something if you guys would like!

Warnings: fluffff

Steve was nine when his parents enrolled him in dance class

His father wasn’t too keen on the idea, but his mother wanted him to learn how to be a “gentleman”

And, of course, part of being a gentleman is knowing how to dance

So, of course, Steve learned how to dance

In high school, Steve always toned down his dancing skills

He’d fumble around, awkwardly placing his hands on a girl’s hips or shoulders, and would make sure to “accidentally” step on her toes once or twice

Just, you know, so no one suspects anything

No one needs to question the manliest of men, King Steve Harrington

Of course, post-graduation, he ends up leaving a lot of that petty high school stuff behind

Really, the only thing he wants to keep from high school is his friendship with Dustin Henderson…

…and his friendship with you

Except, maybe, he doesn’t just want friendship with you

But King Steve has disappeared, replaced by this awkward Scoops Ahoy Steve who doesn’t understand how to flirt with girls

He asks you to be his date for this wedding

Except he doesn’t say “date”, because of course he doesn’t

He says, “Hey, Y/N, my stupid cousin is getting married, and I don’t want to go to his stupid wedding alone, so will you come with me? Not, like, with me, you know, but like-with me, because it’s going to be boring as shit and you make things slightly less boring. You know, occasionally”

And after that completely unnecessary, completely…stupid…rant, he doesn’t expect you to agree to go

So he stammers out, “No pressure, though, obviously. You don’t have to come. I was just hoping-”

“I’d love to be your plus-one, Stevie”

“Really?” he blurts, then clears his throat. “I mean, uh, cool. I’ll pick you up at six on Saturday”

For once in his life, Steve Harrington is punctual. He’s there to pick you up at six o’clock on the dot

And when he sees you in that dress

WOw

It’s all he can do to keep himself from tugging you closer and kissing you on the spot

But instead, he just blushes and stammers out something about “nice outfit” and leads you out to his car, holds open the door for you, and dies internally

Throughout the ceremony and reception, he’s uncharacteristically quiet

He laughs at your jokes and makes casual conversation, but he never really talks to you like he usually does

You catch him glancing at you out of the corner of your eye several times throughout the night, but it’s not until you’re halfway through the reception that he catches your eye and doesn’t break contact

In the background, Cindy Lauper croons the lyrics of Time After Time

He offers you his hand, and you slip your palm into his

The two of you make your way to the dance floor

His hands land on your hips at first, keeping you a fair distance apart-far enough that your hands can barely graze his shoulders

The two of you sway to the rhythm

You watch as the lights glide across his face

As the music picks up a little, he twirls you around

It’s not long before your spinning around the dance floor, miraculously not bumping into other couples

Not that you’re a couple, of course

Your heart is nearly beating out of your chest, so mumble something about getting dizzy

“Sorry,” he says, instantly stopping the rotation to hold you at arm’s length once again

“No, it’s okay. But um, since I’m feeling a little dizzy, maybe you should-support me?”

“What do you-”

Before you lose nerve, you curl your arms around Steve’s neck and rest your head on his chest

His heart thumps softly against your cheek

There’s a soft “oh” before his arms wind around your waist

“Is that, um, better?”

“Much”

You dance like that for the rest of the night

After all, in Steve Harrington’s arms is a great place to be

General Taglist: @novaddictx @anabundance0ffand0ms @rexorangecouny @morganvanilla @anolddayslover @schwankyblock

Steve Taglist: @broadwayandnetflix @explode-a-pult @whormotional @loulouloueh @peterhollandd @songforhema

Stranger Things Taglist: @readinthegarden12 @lacunaclouds

If you want to be added to the tag list for a specific character/my writing in general, leave a reply or send me a message! Thanks again for reading.

If you want to check out more of my writing, here’s my masterlist. :)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington fluff #stranger things x reader

92 notes · View notes

signor-signor · 4 years

Text

Trending 27th - January 2020

What have been your efforts in the campaign for SaveWOY and what are your upcoming plans to save WOY? Now this is a question worth answering!

In the past, I made a little list of the things I did to support SaveWOY and bring awareness to Wander Over Yonder’s existence and its third season plans. Since then, I’ve done a whole lot more from hand-drawn art to more intricate art. Some of them are almost as special as that signed poster @peepsqueak got from the WOY crew as a token of their gratitude.

Here’s an updated list of everything I did for SaveWOY so far:

Attended the SaveWOY picnic at Griffith Park, where I got to sign a banner.

Pointed out various higher-ups involved in the business of Disney television.

Sent several letters to the higher-ups, some of which had envelopes with an image of the downed space pod taped to them.

Started a weekly Twitter post series, SaveWOY Thought of the Week.

Made Lite-Brite art of Wander and Lord Hater, which Craig McCracken and Francisco Angones liked.

Attended D23 2017 with an Operation: FORCE drawing of Hater, a colored page of Wander and Sylvia and a few facts about WOY, and an orange pen with a green hat (I got the hat from the aforementioned picnic) - there, I signed a bench with Wander and the phrase, “Never hurts to help.”

Signed my name, drew Wander (and my own character, Jacken DeBox), and wrote, “Happiest place in outer space!” on the highest beam for Star Wars: Galaxy’s Edge.

Wrote a letter (and drew Wander) for the victims of the Las Vegas tragedy with the message, “The darkest times call for the sunniest smiles!”

Got Craig to reveal the name of the ship (said to play a BIG part in S3, made a cameo in Future-Worm) when I commented that we’d have to figure out the name - his response: “The ship is called The Star Nomad.”

Wrote a couple of cards to two Disney higher-ups with the message, “A little nice makes naughty think twice!”

Drew Dominator in a situation that might take place several seconds after she passes the downed space pod, just in time for Noël Wells’s B-day.

Made the Star Nomad with LEGO Digital Designer.

Made three images in the style of the original Star Wars trilogy VHS set.

Posted 50 WOYS3PredictionPolls on Twitter.

Made an image of “The First 5 Years” with over 140 individuals (including the question marks for 3 new mains and 2 new regulars - I still want to know what they look like!) and one cleverly made Hidden Mickey.

Shared WOY-related images from my 1st 5 Years fan art on Twitter acknowledging the B-days of most of the voice actors (Charlie Adler, Kevin Michael Richardson, Ken Marino, Josh Sussman, H. Michael Croner, James Adomian, Jason Ritter, and Piotr Michael clearly noticed).

Typed a summary of how I think the S3 premiere would go.

Typed lyrics to “Let’s Go Soarin’ and Explorin’,” a song from my aforementioned S3 premiere summary. Wouldn’t it be great if Andy Bean used it?

Made a microgame with WarioWare: D.I.Y. where the player has to spin the fan to make the Star Nomad fly. Part of a chorus from “Let’s Go Soarin’ and Explorin’” included.

Started FanCharacterFriday on Twitter - more Tumblr users seem to like Dr. Otmar Vunderbar.

Made a short comic page of Lord Hater trying to break out of the DTVA vault plus a sly reminder that Disney owns the rights to WOY.

Shared a list of potential episode titles for S3.

Made an actual LEGO Star Nomad based on the model made with LDD. Hopefully, those who worked on WOY have noticed. In case you missed it, here’s a picture...

Now, the ideas I have in mind for further boosting support for the campaign. I may not be able to do most of them myself, but they are certainly for everyone’s consideration.

Provide updated information of higher-ups (if any).

As soon as we find out what Kid Cosmic looks like, expect fan art of him saying, “Watch my show and tell your friends so we’ll make that Mousey Company pay for what they did to my half-brother!”

Another SaveWOY picnic - if there’s one in my general area, you can count me in.

LP album artwork of My Fair Hatey.

A mural identical to that of Super Smash Bros. Ultimate consisting of not just characters from WOY, but also characters who were said to debut in S3 and characters who’d fit in perfectly, namely some of my OCs.

Pumpkin stencils of the main characters for Halloween.

Drawings of various WOY characters stuck on the ex-secret planet explaining why they need to leave said planet. Maybe I could also show how the galaxy’s villains would react if they learn that Lord Dominator’s been bested by Lord Hater.

Drawings consisting of SaveWOY-related messages spoken by the main characters from Disney shows that got at least three seasons (e.g. DuckTales, Fish Hooks), tons of love from the viewers and the executives (e.g. Gravity Falls), or both (e.g. SvtFoE, Mickey Mouse ‘13).

Example with Phineas and Ferb:

Phineas: “We may be creative and famous, but we’re not the ones who came up with the Star Nomad. It’s the ship powered by orbbles! Orbbles! I’d LOVE to see it take flight, wouldn’t you? If you let Mr. McCracken end the show his way, and not the executive way, which, truth be told, is the absolute worst, Wander will surely be elated!”

Ferb: “The Orbble Transporter was invented by conjoined twin brothers, voiced by the performers of the theme song.”

Irving (peeking in from the side): “Speaking of voices, the titular main character sounds JUST LIKE ME! How could you possibly resist?! And look, just because I’m the biggest fan of these guys (gesturing to P&F) doesn’t mean I have no interest in what’s planned for the furry orange fella!”

Since I’m a full-time Disneyland cast member, I should be able to make contacts with anyone who might have more clues about what S3 would entail. It might be a long shot, but if I’m able to convince Disney that WOY’s influence on my life boosted my chance at gaining employment at the company, they should understand.

A weekly Jeopardy-type pop quiz on Twitter - here’s the catch: you must refrain from finding information online when you read the answer (I bet you that the most hardcore fans of the most popular shows will get most of the questions wrong).

Example: This arachnomorph got his name from a dog tag he swallowed when he infiltrated a fish-shaped ship. He later became Lord Hater’s beloved pet.

-Who is Captain Tim?

Summaries of S3 episodes I made up myself a while back.

More fan-made characters - my most recent is an elected official of Cluckon, Mayor Spye C. Drumstick.

Conjuring a logo that best fits the status of S3/TV movie - Wander Over Yonder: The New Galaxy (the center would have the silhouette of the Star Nomad with Wander and Sylvia on it).

Brainstorming possible ideas for the three new main characters.

If all else fails, I suggest we make a web comic based on the hints we accumulated back in 2016 and what we learned from the cameo in Future-Worm’s finale. Team Sea3on has been taking that approach for SatAM Sonic the Hedgehog S3, though they are also making an animated version.

That’s about all I’ve got so far. In closing, I have several questions to ask as the new decade kicks off.

Disney executives: Are you even listening to us WOY fans? What more do you want? I’ve done so much for the campaign that I feel I’m entitled to know everything that was planned for WOY’s third and final season, especially now that I’m working full-time for your company. If you tell us what your demands are, we’d be happy to oblige.

@crackmccraigen: Are you aware of how hard the fans and I have been trying to talk Disney into giving you the chance for true closure? We’ll make sure we watch KC when it comes out on Netflix. If we’re lucky, we might see WOY get added to Disney+, where it should get that closure, assuming you’ll have finished KC your way before then.

@suspendersofdisbelief: I know you’re super busy with DuckTales and you love the plans for WOY S3 so much that you can’t bear to reveal it all in one post, but it’s been waaaay too long since we got any hints from you. Are there any other WOY S3-related facts you could describe in much greater detail? The campaign could do with more motivation.

Non-WOY fans: Are you convinced? Need I remind you what’s in the end tag of the “last” episode of WOY? You know there’s much more to life than tales from the land of Ooo, a blue middle school cat boy in a world of unusual individuals, adolescent twins in an Oregon town filled with oddities, a half-gem half-human protagonist, a coming-of-age princess of Mewni, a trio of ursine trend-followers in San Francisco, and all that jazz. If you’re not one bit interested in Hater’s origin story and all that was planned for S3, it’s your loss.

Pessimists: Will you please dispense with this unnerving “Wander is dead” talk? As a certain Popeye would say, “That’s all I can stands, I can’t stands no more!” You’re not trying to let the Disney bosses win, are you? You probably used to think previously canceled shows like Hey Arnold!, Samurai Jack, and Young Justice could never be brought back. The point is, all is not lost.

@peepsqueak and WOY fans/SaveWOY supporters: Have I been of assistance? Almost every remark I’ve ever made shows wit and perception. I mean, just think. Wander is still stuck in that vault where his goal of reforming Lord Hater remains incomplete, and he has no idea of what threat awaits him. He says, “Glorn, help us.” It’ll take something big and extraordinary to convince every Disney fan (and perhaps every Netflix fan) to talk some sense into the higher-ups. Not to mention the replacement/back-up voice actors we’ll have to find if Disney takes even longer (we already lost one - René Auberjonois). We shan’t rest until we get the answers!

@disneyanimation

24 notes · View notes

thelightofthingshopedfor · 4 years

Text

Fic author ask meme

haha so @veliseraptor tagged me literally months ago, as in so long ago I have no idea when it actually was, and I didn’t get all my answers typed up until...now. actually a lot of them were typed up a few months ago and then I finally finished this yesterday on the plane home. no, I don’t know why either

Author Name: 100indecisions on AO3

Fandoms You Write For: it's pretty much all Loki at the moment and has been for the last several years. I've written for other fandoms in the past and I have others on my WIP list, but yeah, it's like 95% Loki.

Where You Post: everything is on AO3, and I do mean "everything" because I get obsessive about that sort of thing. I do still have an FFN account under ladymoriel and most of my fics are reposted there, although none of my most recent fics are because I haven't gotten around to digging up cover images for them. also FFN sucks but I crave attention/validation and there are still some people who only use FFN, so I'll get around to it at some point.

Most Popular One-Shot: for some reason “the state of my head” has 1,157 kudos on AO3, so I guess it would be that one.

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story: technically “the adventures of tiny Loki and Thor (and friends),” because it’s a multi-chapter fic (boy is it ever) and it has 1,020 kudos, but if we’re talking actual planned fic it would be “the kindness of strangers” at 623.

Favorite Story You Wrote: man, I don’t know. I’m partial to “I am a time bomb ticking away the hours to blow your world apart” because I like my headcanon and I think I structured it well, and “all this that is more than a wish is a memory” gets points for being the longest thing I’ve actually finished. but honestly I don’t know that I have a single favorite.

Story You Were Nervous to Post: haha well I'm sure there's been more than one, but if we're talking about the fic I was most nervous to post, I think that honor would go to my Grandthorki fic "I will kiss you till your breath is found," which is the most explicit AND most fucked-up fic I've written so far. I was nervous about...so many things with that one.

How Do You Pick Your Titles: probably 99% of them are song lyrics. sometimes I'll start with a specific song that's relevant to the fic itself in some way, but I also have a whole list of song lyrics that sound like good titles to me whether the rest of the song has anything to do with the subject of the fic. often I'll come up with a good lyric early in the process, just like "oh yeah I've had this hanging around in my list for ages and it works here"; otherwise, once I've finished or nearly finished a fic (or much earlier, actually, if I'm obsessing over an aspect of writing it that is...not actually writing, which happens a lot), if I still don't have a title I read through my whole list and make a much shorter list of titles that seem to fit this fic. if nothing from there seems just right, I’ll go hunting through my iTunes library and then Google for semi-relevant song lyrics. on occasion, though, the title comes first or otherwise shapes the direction of the fic, like with "I will kiss you till your breath is found"--I had a vague idea of what I might want to do, but it was very vague and I hadn't committed to it, and then I just happened to listen to some Sufjan Stevens and went "heyyyyy I know exactly what to do and it's terrible and I'm gonna do it, I have a title now, I have to do it"

Do You Outline: it depends on the fic. for long ones, at a minimum I'll write a bulleted list of plot points I need to hit, which often ends up being basically two or three pages of a zero draft that I then struggle to turn into actual prose...and then I often re-do the outline at least once or twice as I go along so I can compress it into something more useful that fits on one page and I can cross stuff out as I go. (if a list can’t fit on one page/view, there’s basically no way I can hold all of it in my head at once.) I often end up with shorter lists of scenes I still need to write and specific things to hit during revisions, too. for short fics it's not really necessary, although I often do still write up something similar if I've let it drag out over way too much time and I can't keep straight what I wanted to do with it. (don't be me.)

How Many of Your Stories are complete: welllll, as a rule I don't post WIPs because I know myself well enough to know that that way lies several different kinds of madness, so in general, my only completed fics are what's up on AO3, and everything there is complete. in practice that's not 100% true because I'm very bad at deadlines and I have a few different fics where I couldn't finish in time and I either posted the first chunk of the fic that still functioned as a self-contained story even if it wasn't the full story I'd planned to write, with the intention of properly finishing it later, or I did the same thing but worse because the part I posted was...not really a complete story. in my defense I've only done the latter a couple times, and in the case of "going down to nowhere" I really thought I'd be posting the rest soon because it was all written, it was just extremely rough, and for various reasons I still haven't gotten around to revising and posting the remaining 80% of the fic. (as far as the opposite issue goes, I have 0 finished fics that I haven't posted anywhere, because I'm too obsessive about being complete to do anything else. I think I do have one old, extremely short, very bad Lost fic on FFN that I never reposted to AO3 because I decided it sucked...and if we're being completely technical about it, I have some stories I wrote as a little kid that are technically fanfic because they featured licensed characters, but nobody wants to see those. all the other old stuff I haven't posted, including at least two Neopets fics, never got finished and that's the only reason I never posted them anywhere.)

In-Progress: uhhhh. well, this made me realize my posted WIP list is out of date, not because I've finished anything on it but because I have MULTIPLE short fics that were supposed to be QUICK so I figured I didn't need to bother putting them on the list and then they weren't quick because I am so fucking bad at 1) sitting down and actually writing and 2) finishing anything. But yeah, basically what’s on there.

Coming Soon: fuck, I don’t know. Half the fics on my WIPs list are ones I thought I could crank out in one or two sittings, AND YET. But I’d like to finish the rest of my Whumptober fic soon, because that one really should be pretty easy...and I’d also like to finish the short little Endgame fix-it I thought of on my way out of the theater, where 2012!Loki hops universes and revives IW!Loki...and then there’s the even older IW/Endgame fix-it that’s basically just “everything is fine because I say so, let’s have a little recovery”, especially because I’m like 90% sure that one’s almost done but probably some of it needs typing up and then it all needs stitching together...oh, and finally getting around to finishing typing one of two notebooks reminded me that the other theoretically short fix-it where the Guardians pick up both Thor and Loki is also nearly done, I just need to finish typing it. so...one of those, probably.

Do You Accept Prompts: in theory, although I...don't think I get prompts often enough to know one way or another? plus my brain is The Worst, so my general reaction to actually getting a prompt is basically "that's interesting but I have never had an idea in my life, ever, and apparently I'm not starting now", with an added element of social anxiety or something because it's Somebody Else's Idea and that puts a mental block on my ability to develop it as my own idea. so...anyone's welcome to send me prompts, with the understanding that I might well never do anything with it and if I do, it might take literal years.

Upcoming Story You’re the Most Excited For: I also don’t know. I mean, in recently typing up some older stuff (like the one where the Grandmaster decides publicly executing Loki sounds like a fun idea, from which I posted a couple excerpts recently) I got excited about those again, which is a good reminder of why I want to stay on top of my typing, but I don’t know if I’m more excited for one specific fic than others.

Tag Five Fanfic Authors to Answer These Questions: I have no idea who might have answered this months ago so I’ll just say that if you read this post and you want to answer these questions, please consider yourself tagged. yes, that means you.

#fanfic #writing #ask memes

3 notes · View notes

sandersidess · 5 years

Text

Twisted but Sweet

More Yandere Virgil! Head the warnings, but I didn’t get into too much detail. Let me know what you think! Since I wrote this on my laptop, it will under a keep reading

TW: Death, Blood, Murder, Food Mention, Mention of Deceit (twice), ask to tag!

tag: @sweetandsaltypotato @snowshoe-main-blog @sanders-sides-rebloger @hannahrantsalot (let me know if you want to be added or removed)

Virgil hums happily, wearing his favorite outfit as he felt that today was the day. It was the day he would confess and Roman would fall in love with him and they would live happily ever after.

Virgil smiles as his skirt showed off his legs, wearing his favorite purple sweater that hung off the shoulder, exposing his collarbone. His pale skin looked even brighter with the dark colors. He wore his makeup beautifully, smoky eyes and his lips were pinker than ever. He had a blush on his face as he saw his Roman near the lockers, his heart beating fast and he had to take deep breaths.

Roman as always, he looked magnificent, a prince. He had that charming smile, wearing a red shirt which brought out his golden eyes, along with white jeans that defined him in every way possible. His hair looked luscious and soft, making Virgil wanting to run his hand through it. He was the only person that could make Virgil weak, and Virgil wanted him desperately. He held close the letter he was going to give him, stopping as he saw someone come up to him.

“Who is that?” Virgil asks his Patton, his voice had darkened.

“That’s a guy who’s been crushing on Roman since preschool,” Patton shrugs as he explains, making Virgil stiffen and his mind was going haywire.

No. It couldn’t be. He got rid of everyone. There couldn’t be anyone left. That bastard ‘Deceit’ told him so! He lied to him! Now someone was in his way! He couldn’t allow it! He wouldn’t! That is his man and only his!

Virgil gritted his teeth, shoving the letter in his locker and walked off to class, biting down on his nail as he had to plan. Plan how to get rid of the enemy. Virgil smirks as he had thought of a plan during his art class, overhearing a couple of people. Virgil waited until after school, while everyone was in their clubs, to go into his baking club. No one would question what he is making, and besides, he was the best baker there.

He licked his lips, licking the frosting off his finger, satisfied this would hide the taste. He added his extra special ingredient, soon piping flowers onto his cupcake and let out a happy sigh.

“As always, you’re a genius,” Virgil muttered to himself, the crazed look back in his eyes.

He may have wasted a perfectly good outfit today, but it was a special occasion either way. He picked up his tray, humming happily as he walked down the hallway to the art club, seeing the said guy there alone. Virgil straightens his back, placing a smile on his face when he was let in. He walks in and waves at him, the guy stopping from what he was doing.

“Hello there. How may I help you?” He asks, giving Virgil a soft smile.

If he could throw up, he would. He wanted to bury a knife in his head, finish him right now, right here. No. He held himself back. He had a plan. Deceit approved and helped him get the necessary ingredients.

“Well, I have never seen you around the school, and well, I’m very well known for delivering cupcakes to new people I meet,” Virgil smiles sweetly at him, “It's my specialty. My welcome cupcakes. I don’t know you very well, and heard you loved roses and strawberries.”

“Oh. I do,” He blushes and nods.

“That is what I made, just for you. I would have felt so guilty if I had not made you cupcakes,” Virgil says in an innocent voice, setting down the tray.

“Why thank you. That is very sweet of you,” The guy responds, taking one and taking off the baking paper.

“So, I see you’re making a crown. That is beautiful,” Virgil smiles and stares at the gold crown, going to the other side.

“You are very sweet,” The guy chuckles and nods as he takes a bite, “Wow! This is delicious!”

“So sweet of you, thank you,” Virgil nods and smiles sweetly, “May I put it on?”

“Go ahead,” He nods and takes another point and hums happily, “You are very talented! These have fresh strawberries?”

“Only the best comes out of me,” Virgil giggles, putting on the crown and checked himself in the mirror.

At that moment, he then heard choking and coughing. He hums and fixes his appearance, glad he wore his gloves today. The choking gets worse and he turns around, seeing the guy whose name is Gabe, coughing up pieces of glass.

“Oh my. I think someone put in a broken lightbulb,” Virgil gasps daintily, covering his mouth.

“W-What-“ He gasps and has blood starting to come out. He gets up and tries to escape, but Virgil pushes him down and tuts, waving his finger.

“Now, it is very rude to leave just like that,” He grins, showing off his teeth and sharp canines, “We haven’t even had the tea I brought.”

He grabs a cup, straddling Gabe’s hips and grabs him by his jaw. He chuckles as Gabe fights back, and tries to scream. There was no one, not even a janitor near this side because no one ever came to this side.

“Have a sip,” Virgil hums, pouring the contents down and shuts his mouth, forcing Gabe to drink it and it burned. He could feel how every small cut was intensified.

Virgil fixed the crown and leans down to Gabe’s level, their foreheads barely touching,

“I don’t like sharing what is mine,” He whispers and kisses his nose ever so gently.

He slams his head down, covering his mouth and pinned down his arms with his knees. He shushed him, stroking his hair back. Gabe’s eyes were wide with fear, the last thing he’ll ever see is this guy animal like smile. Virgil waits another minute before getting off him, wiping the blood gently with a towel Gabe had. He takes said towel with him, humming as he stared down at the corpse under him.

“We could’ve been such good friends. Shame you put this onto yourself,” Virgil sighs sadly, laughing at himself for his comment, “Who am I kidding?! This is the best day ever!”

Virgil whistles as he positions Gabe’s head, thinking it through and slams his head against the table until he heard a crack. he broke a lightbulb and scattered it around him, leaving the only regular cupcake he had brought. Virgil smirks at his masterpiece, whistling to himself once more as he left the room, going back to the baking club and cleaned everything up and himself. He was still a little down he couldn’t confess, but there’s always another day.

He listened to his favorite, I Can’t Decide by Scissor Sisters. It always brought up his mood, from the beat to even the lyrics. It was a good day, and even better as he did have someone waiting for him in his basement. Oh, Erika. Why couldn’t you control yourself around Roman?

"I can't decide Whether you should live or die Oh, you'll probably go to heaven Please don't hang your head and cry No wonder why My heart feels dead inside It's cold and hard and petrified Lock the doors and close the blinds We're going for a ride"

120 notes · View notes

everlarkficexchange · 5 years

Text

The Raven and The Gods

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 46: Peeta, the Greek god Apollo, hears the most beautiful voice at his temple so he comes down to earth to find this beautiful maiden. Follows how this god falls in love with a mortal and withstand the trials the other gods put them through. [submitted by @animekpopxx]

RATING: General (for the foreseeable future)

TAGS: Greek Mythology AU; Supernatural AU; Apollo!Peeta.

Author’s note: So this piece is only an introduction of sorts at less than 2500 words. I hope to write the rest in the next few weeks.

In mythology Apollo is a very busy god. He oversees many aspects of human lives, has many attributes, and has a complexed personality in my opinion. Apollo is one of my favorite Olympians and I’ve always wanted to write something based on him, I just hope this one turns out ok.

KPKPKPKPK

The god of light pulled to a stop in the pristine marble streets of Olympus; his duty to bring the sun to the world finished and weary from his ventures, Apollo dismounted his golden chariot, and allowed the noble Pegasi pulling his transport some rest.

“Tired my friends?” He asked the two winged horses patting their necks affectionately as the animals nuzzled their master’s arm.

“Me too.” Apollo smiled softly, then added, “I do not believe ambrosia and nectar will be enough to cure this lethargy that’s taken over me. I am certain it is time I should look at the gathering in my Temple at Delphi, let the restaurative praises of the mortals heal me instead. It’s been a while since I’ve enjoyed the worship of mankind.”

In a moment, the Pegasi scampered off to feed on Olympian grasses, and the god of light walked to the edge of the Eternal City, where the view of the mortal world shifted under the waning morning. Apollo adjusted his sight, like binoculars focusing on a specific point in the distance. His temple at Delphi rushed at him while the rest of the world resided.

“Splendid!” Apollo exclaimed when a group of mortals filed through the open doors of the temple.

The crowd was thick and full, milling about the open space, squeezing by columns and statues depicting a young, beardless youth, viril and strong, showing a variety of Apollo’s many attributes. Half a dozen braziers stood flaming in front of each statue, waiting for people who brought fresh fruit, cereals, laurel wreaths, and even the small sacrificial pray, to burn their offerings to their god. Prayers accompanied the offerings as they fell into the fire, and somewhere in the room a musician played the lyre in a echoing corner.

Apollo closed his bright blue eyes and took a deep, deep breath. The fragrant odor of the burnt tribute invaded his nostrils and filled his chest, cleansing his aura and renewing his depleted strength with his next exhale. An electric wave crackled around him as the sacrificial smokes ascended coiling rhythmically towards Olympus and the god himself. Every muscle in his body tightened and relaxed in quick succession, giving him another inch or so of mass and strength. His golden hair glistened anew in the glare of the sun while he flexed his fingers, craving the feel of his lyre strings under them.

Just as he was about to summon the lyre to play along the musician in his shrine, the most beautiful voice he’d heard in millennia cut through the other prayers, the crackling of the consuming fire of offerings, and music previously filling Apollo’s ears.

It was only a short worship song— one verse sang twice and not a whole stanza at that— but what beautiful voice it was!

Being the god of music, Apollo’s ears perked up and waited for the rest of the rendition, but nothing else came for two long beats of the heart, and then, the song picked up again, less timid than the first try and even an octave higher.

Apollo leaned forward on the rail-less edge of his sky high home, and his eyes searched the congregation like hawks seeking prey, but the crowd had thickened out if possible. People pressed against each other, trying to get to the specific braziers they sought out, meanwhile the singing kept gaining strength, and he realized the one he was focused on was merely joining in another two voices that sounded less captivating, but still very charming all the same.

“Three women,” he gasped, “three women singing, where are they?” But there were hundreds of women singing in various size groups all over the temple.

With a growl, the god took a step backwards and pushed off the edge of Olympus with the tip of his toes, lunging himself straight down to Earth like a meteor. His arms flushed at his sides at first, suddenly opened at shoulder level and tucking his head down, his whole body shimmered, shrinking and morphing while feathers black as night on a moonless sky replaced sun-kissed, fair skin.

Apollo swooped inside the temple and flew close to the ceiling, cocking his head here and there, scanning the crowd with tiny black eyes that could still bring into focus a specific section at a time. His bird ears perked up when again the sweet voice he sought lifted above the rest of the singers, and he realized it came from the direction reserved for the healers who worshiped him.

The bird god flew overhead in a circle, enough times he got the unwanted attention of a priest who couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“Look!” The priest cried out disrupting the prayers and songs of the other mortals, making Apollo glare in annoyance. “A raven! In the temple!”

“Is it the wrath of Apollo upon us?” Asked a woman trembling from head to toe.

The fear picked up like wildfire among the mortals, cowering and accusing one another of imaginary transgressions against their god.

Knowing keeping his current appearance would hinder his search, Apollo turned the plumage on his body to white, causing the crowd to sigh in relief at the sight of the bird’s new plumage. He flew out a small window at the side of the temple on the opposite wall just as quickly as he’d come in.

Mortals have the habit of taking omens way too close to heart. Apollo should have known better than to use the form of a creature he’d— for all intents— had cursed by turning its feathers the color of soot, but then again, the raven was his bird, he should be able to use it in whatever circumstance he seemed fit. Instead, he was forced to take on a human form.

The luminescence of his divine skin muted to a dull glow that simply disappeared the more man-like he appeared. His eyes also lost the light of the sun that filled them, and turned into a bright, cheerful blue. His hair went from golden like the rays of the sun to ashy blond and curly at the ends. He debated whether to grow a beard or stay clean faced as he naturally was… he opted for the latter. Then, he looked down at his robes, still too magnificent to be worn amongst the mortals and remaining incognito. A quick wave of his hand left him wearing a cream color chiton, with a brown chlamys fastened at the shoulder with a small wooden lyre broach. Simple sandals kept his feet properly protected. He could be a traveling peasant and nobody would look at him twice.

Apollo marched into his temple with a single task in mind: Find the singing woman. He made his way through the crowd still gawking at the ceiling of the temple where the raven had been flying not a minute earlier, others had fallen to their knees with renewed fervor after witnessing how the bird went from bad to good omen with the change of plumage.

The priest was still standing in the middle of the temple, flapping his arms over his head, chanting loudly some nonsense about Apollo’s power and wisdom. The god made a beeline to the old man, knowing he had to snap him out of the trance so the songs and prayers could resume and he could get back to his search.

“What an amazing miracle to behold.” Apollo said into the priest’s ear, “The sun is bright, the wind is sweet, call to the lyres, our Lord to please. Music and song is what the gods want, ring out your voices, let your poems fall free.”

As if hypnotized, the priest stood stock still, his eyes turned glassy, but then he started calling for lyres to carry out a tune, and singers to belt out their praises loudly. His job done, Apollo melted back into the crowd.

The god of music stuck his arm out and his lyre appeared in his hand out of thin air. It was of course disguised as a common instrument to match its master’s appearance, but it was still the most celestial sound in the place. Soon the voices of the mortals filled the god’s ears and he had to close his eyes to take in all the influx of strength and new life pouring into him. And suddenly, the voice he had momentarily forgotten, hit his senses awake.

“She’s there!” The god looked to his left, and his feet lead him without stopping. People cleared a path for him with a wave of his fingers until he found himself in the middle of the cluster of healers that followed his cult as patron of medicine and healing.

Three women holding each other called his attention. One was a downtrodden looking woman who still possessed a certain beauty to herself; the other two were younger, a nervous looking maiden with long, braided hair as dark as Apollo’s ravens and eyes as bright as the full moon; the last one, not much older than a child, blonde and fair as the older woman, with features that resembled both of her companions. The god deduced the three women were kin to one another, and simply inched closer to them, to see if he had found his mystery singer.

He played his lyre an approached the singing trio, convinced it was the source of the voice he craved. The ladies sang to his tune as if under a spell. Apollo saw two of The Muses— Euterpe, goddess of song and lyric poetry; and Polyhymnia, goddess of hymns— come to dance around the mortal women, and smiled at them gratefully, knowing full well they came to help him draw out the singing for as long as the mortals could stand it.

Normally, mortals can’t see The Muses. They can only feel their presence and respond to their inspirational nudgings, but the gray eyes of the eldest girl fixed on Euterpe. Startled by the apparition, her eyes widened in fear and apprehension. The maiden wrapped her arms around the younger girl’s lithe body and pulled her closer to her chest. A moment later, and without taking her gaze from the goddess, the mortal maid had taken a protective stance shielding the youngster behind her own slim frame.

The action peaked Apollo’s curiosity.

Apollo dismiss his goddesses, grateful for their help, he lifted the mist blinding the mortals to the presence of the deities, and free them from the trance The Muses had put on all the followers of their leader gathered in the temple.

Apollo’s fingers rang out a few more notes on his lyre, and then stopped playing his enchanted music. As if by magic, The Muses disappeared, leaving the mortals confused for a short moment. But humans are forgetful, fickle creatures, all bewilderment wiped off their minds almost immediately.

Apollo watched the women closely. The older girl released her grip on the youngest, who beamed up a smile as breathtaking as it was sweet.

“That was amazing, Katniss! Thank you for helping me sing today. I’m sure our songs brought the blessing of the dove to the temple today. I’ve never seen anything alike before.”

Apollo snorted. Mortals always saw only what they could explain. They witnessed a raven turn it’s feathers white above their heads, and quickly pronounced it a dove instead.

The older girl’s facial muscles twitched, her lips pursed for a second but then she schooled her expression into a slight smile. “Maybe it was, little duck. Maybe the gods know it is your thirteenth birthday and sent a blessing just for you. I hardly had anything to do with it.”

“Oh, that’s not true!” The girl whispered, blushing before tackling the maiden with a hug. “You have the most amazing voice. And the blessing was for everyone who saw the dove, not just me. Right, Mama?” The girl turned to the woman who’s soft blue eyes watched the exchange as if afraid to be shooed away.

“It’s, true. Katniss has the sweetest voice ever. And the blessing is a welcome and most needed sign from our lord, Apollo.”

“Thank you, mother.” Said the older girl less warmly than how she spoke to the youngster. “I’m sure Apollo enjoyed all the other offerings we brought for him.”

“Sure he did!” Exclaimed the younger sister. “Lord Apollo is the wisest, strongest and most approachable of all the gods in Olympus.”

“Shush, Prim!” Chided the big sister, nervous eyes flitting everywhere at once. “We must never compare deities as such. All gods are great in their own rights and none is highest than Zeus himself. All gods are powerful and amazing.”

“You don’t sound very convinced.” Said Apollo immediately regretting his faux pas as the raven-haired maid’s blood drain from her thin face. “I apologize for intruding. It is not my place.”

“It is not!” The maiden scowled mightily. “It will do you well to stick to playing your lyre, minstrel!”

Apollo felt his heart swell.

It was a well known fact, Apollo, for all his might and attributes, obsessing over hard-to-get romantic interests was his weakness.

“Minstrel you call me, like it is a disease.” Said the god smirking, “But our Lord Apollo finds the musicians to be bearers of gifts, like joy and beauty.”

The maiden rolled her eyes. “Of course Apollo would.” She muttered under her breath.

“Katniss, remember where you are!” Hissed her mother behind a fan, tired blue eyes nervously shifting around.

Katniss feigned a smile. “Lord Apollo is most gracious unto us. Alas, I am not of his service.” She looked at her family warily, “Mother, Primrose, if you are think that you’ve satisfied Apollo with out offerings, I believe it is time to seek the the priest to bring forth Prim’s name to be considered to start the healer training now that she’s thirteen.”

“Allow me to escort you, my lady. I’m sure god Apollo is eager to bless his new healer in the making!” The god smiled at Primrose, whose cheeks turn a sweet pink.

“That will not be necessary, minstrel. We can find the priest on our own just fine.”

“Peeta, my lady, the name is Peeta Mellark, at your services,” said Apollo at once and without putting too much thought into it, took the maiden’s hand to kiss it.

As soon as his skin made contact with hers, a series of pictures played in the god’s mind’s eye.

The air thicken, a mystical aura descended into the temple. The priestess Pythia who sat alone in her tripod stool in the Oracle’s chamber rose her eyes from the basin full of water and laurel leaves, the spirit of the Python hissing in her veins.

Pythia rose from her perch and marched into the public side of the temple, causing an uproar, the high priest rushed to the Oracle, frightened by her presence on a day she was not meant to be consulted, but before the man could inquire what had moved her to the crowd, she spoke, facing in the general direction of the healers section.

“I am Pythia, Oracle of Delphi, servant of Apollo, hear my voice and heed my warning.”

The Oracle walked to the cluster of healers with eyes shining and hair flowing. Her white chiton covered her thighs and her feet were bare. She made no sound as she walked a straight line almost in front of Apollo, butat the last second, the woman turned her face to a trembling Katniss.

“You who fear great losses, will be overcome by hope.

Don’t let the emotions fool you, don’t run away from fear. Embrace your weakness, let go of sorrow. Welcome freedom and hold fast to the rising sun, the dandelion in the spring, the promise of a better dawn. Don’t be fooled by the arrow and the storm. Time is upon you, and the trials ahead will rival the heroes quests. Hold fast to the dandelion in the spring.”

Pythia stumbled backwards, and Apollo caught her in his arms gently, turning her over to the priests to look after her. When Apollo looked back, the three women were gone.

#Springtime Edition 2019 #submission #alliswell21 #animekpopxx #prompt 46

83 notes · View notes