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dewdewick · 2 months

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Shadows In The Dust |Chapter 3

Pairing/s: Finnick Odair x fem reader

Summary: At the age of 18 you thought you’d soon be free of the hunger games, unfortunately fate has a different plan. You are picked as a tribute for district 2 and thrust into capitol life.

Warning/s: Angst, Hurt/comfort, Trust issues, Death, Torture, Mental illnesses, manipulation tactics, Weapons, Swearing, Canon typical violence, Mentions of psychological distress, Use of Y/N, Fem reader, descriptions of clothing reader wears, explicit descriptions of weapon use

A/N: Idk why but I really struggled writing this chapter. I’m excited to move on to the actual games and get to the fun stuff! Everyone say thank you Beta readers for helping me actually buckle down and write this.

Word count: 4.1K

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Somehow Y/N was awarded a slow morning, able to sleep in until 9am and take a leisurely shower. Her sore muscles relaxed under the spray of hot water and she felt she could take a moment to breathe for once in the past few days. She looked at her painted fingernails as the scalding water hit her back. A crimson color meticulously sculpted into a sharp point, Aerith was all about details and she wondered if even her fingernails symbolized something; a message or warning. A few drops of water fell from her eyelashes and she looked to the panel on the wall, turning the shower off and grabbing a large towel from the heated rack.

She stepped onto the soft cushion of the shower mat and looked at the large mirror on the wall. Drying off while studying her appearance, the way her wet hair fell and how her skin looked. She studied her body and wondered how she would look in the no doubt extravagant dress that she was to be zipped into that night. She frowned in the mirror, the thought of this place and all its luxury made her stomach turn a bit, it was so much all at once. She looked away from her reflection, setting her hand on the electric hair dryer and letting it work its wonders.

She dressed in a comfortable set of lounge clothes, silky and soft to the touch. She looked into her room and sighed at the idea of going to breakfast, she just wanted the moment of peaceful solitude to last forever. Her stomach however did not and growled in protest, she groaned, walking out the door and down the hall. Finch and his stylist sat at the dining room table, nibbling on the spread while conversing with a light tone. She took a teacup and poured from the pot of hot chocolate, smiling a bit to herself at the sweet scent.

“Morning sugar” Finch smiled as he noticed her presence, she looked up from her cup as he addressed her. “Morning, sleep good?” she asked, sitting in her usual spot beside him. He turned to face her a bit more, “Not really, I'm not used to all the noise” he laughed “but I got some rest this morning so I’m ok.” he said, sipping his own cup. “Can't be tired for Caesar” Hebe teased him with the sort of smile an older sister might give. He smiled back at her and stuck his tongue out playfully.

Y/N grinned into her cup as she took another sip, it was nice to see these kinds of friendly interactions. After all, being in the capitol was mostly that fake kindness and too wide smiles that made everyone not participating uncomfortable. She reached forward and took a few breakfast items onto her plate, she had learned she liked what she had heard called a “crepe”. She spread whipped cream over the pastry and littered it with the fresh fruit available, taking a few sausages and eggs along the way.

“Whipped cream for breakfast?” Finch asked teasingly, She grinned and stuck out her tongue just as he had a moment earlier. “I have protein too, dont judge me” she said, a few giggles permeating her words. “And you wonder why i call you sugar” He teased right back, taking a bite of his breakfast. Hebe sat and watched the two teens with a sad smile, she had been a stylist for 10 years and knowing the impending doom they faced never got easier.

The 3 talked for an hour and a half, Y/N learned that Hebe had 2 children of her own and how her husband had passed away so her sister and mother lived with them. Luckily stylists made an obscene amount of money so Hebe could pay for anything and everything her children needed. Somehow she even managed to get a few details on Aerith, learning the old woman had a wife and one son who worked as a gamemaker. She cringed at the thought, knowing that the old woman's son had watched her scoring session and would most likely continue to watch her closely throughout the games.

At half past 12 or so Furisha and Enobaria walked through the doors, shopping bags in their arms. “New clothes for the show tonight?” Finch asked. She could tell he was a bit annoyed, “Oh yes! New shoes and dresses,we’re going to look divine!” Furisha said as she pranced into the room. Y/N patted Finch on the arm, doing her best to calm his annoyance.

He stood and motioned for her to follow, a furrow in his brow. She took one last bite of her crepes and quickly scurried after him. Sharing a look with Hebe as she followed, they both knew something was changing about him. He didn't seem as blithe and debonair the closer they got to the games. He walked to the balcony across the room, setting his forearms on the railing and staring down at the bustling city below.

“What's wrong? Not a fan of shopping?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood just a bit. He only let out a huff through his nose at the joke, turning his head to look at her. “I'm fine with shopping, just not fond of the time they’re doing it.” He explained “We go into the games tomorrow and they're just recklessly spending money.” He grimaced. She patted him on the back, her hand rubbing in small circular motions. “You know how Furisha is, and Enobaria…” She hesitated, thinking for a second. “She's been in the capital a long time, You know how the people here are.” She shrugged. He sighed, “I just don't see how they can be so nonchalant when 23 of us will be dead by the end of the week… enobaria especially.”

“She's never really been one to cherish human life, I mean her teeth are definitely a clue to her opinions on the games.” she assumed, continuing on “Unfortunately the people who we’re surrounded with aren't all that understanding of the headspace we’re both in, although Hebe might be an outlier in that field.” She spoke, wanting the cringe at her own words. “Luckily you've got me, and even though I'm terrified I'll do my best to help you get through tonight ok?” She continued, offering a small reassuring smile.

Being the man he was, Finch turned and engulfed her in a warm hug. His arms circled her ribs as he bent over and buried his face in the crook of her neck. He smelled like maple syrup and generic green apple shampoo, a boyish scent that reminded her of their real age, only 18 years old. Her arms circled around him as well, “I’m gonna do my best to protect you too ok? Not just here but in the arena, promise.’ He said in a low voice. The thought made her smile a bit; even if he just made sure she had a quick death, that would be a gift in itself.

“Can we just be kids until it's time to get ready?” she asked quietly, "No adult responsibilities and no talks of death.” He nodded “sounds like a plan sugar” Her arms moved down to rest on his chest as she pulled away from the embrace. “I might have an idea, but it's pretty dumb.” she smiled, a bit of a giggle in her words. His eyebrow raised and a smile finally came over his face, “oh and what might that be?” he asked.

“Find as many blankets as you can and meet me in my room in 10 minutes kay?” she said with a grin as she pulled away from him. His eyebrows knitted together and he gave her an upside down smile as he tilted his head to the side a bit. “What are you planning?” he asked as she opened the balcony door to head back inside. She only gave him a large smile and walked inside, dashing off to god knows where.

A few minutes later he knocked on her door as instructed with a pile of sheets in hand that he had stolen from a nearby linens closet. She opened her door and immediately grabbed the blankets from him, unfolding them and adding them to the structure she had built from her bed posts to a few chairs across the room. The fort was impressive, especially since it had only taken her about 10 minutes to construct.

“Help me add sheets” she instructed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. After a beat of silence, he unfolded sheets as he was told, draping them on the makeshift fort to cover areas she might've missed. She arranged two blankets to serve as tent flaps, crawling into the fort and disappearing into the darkness within. Seconds later her head popped out, “Hand me some pillows?” she asked,sticking her hand out. Once again he did as he was told, handing her pillows that she placed in the fort behind her. He crouched down, peeking inside the small space while she arranged blankets and pillows all around.

“What do you think?” she asked with a large grin “my sister and I used to make these all the time in our room growing up. We pretended we were living in our own little cottage out in the woods, or maybe that we had an apartment in the capitol.” she added, laughing to herself at the memories of her childish actions. He crawled into the fort, hunched over until he could get into a comfortable position. “What else do we need? Or do we just sit here and talk?” He asked, shifting so he faced her, laying on his side. “Next we get snacks, books and flashlights” she said with a giddy bounce of her shoulders. “Oh of course, what's a proper cottage in the woods without those things?” he said teasingly, giving her a wink.

She only giggled, crawling out of the tent and making her way out of the room. He noticed a few storybooks that she already prepared in the tent, fairytales and adventure novels that only people in the capitol could acquire. She was a funny girl, he hoped she kept that same goofy sense of humor and look of wonder in the games, when she could at least. His mind wondered for a second how their lives could have been if not for the games. They most likely would have grown up together, he wondered if they would be friends or something more. He shook his head, dismissing the thoughts and laughed to himself as he hunched over to crawl out of the tent after her.

The two grabbed snacks, drinks, books, sweets, flashlights and even more pillows. Placing everything in the small tent - like structure. Her eyes widened for a second before she was about to climb in, “oh my god i have an idea!” she exclaimed, rushing around the fort and picking up the small remote on her bedside table. She pressed a few buttons and the lights grew to a burnt orange color, the windows transforming to a desert scape like district 2. Quiet noises of animals filled the room, the sound of the breeze accompanying the scurries.

His face broke into a grin as the room changed, “just like home” he mumbled to himself. She made her way back around the fort and crawled inside, tucking herself up against one of the makeshift walls. He followed, the smile still on his face as he grabbed a sweet and popped it into his mouth. For once they both felt like kids, laughing as they told stories and read adventurous stories aloud to each other. Y/n read in different voices and made sound effects to match, painting an exquisite picture of the story she read. Finch felt himself becoming even more drawn to her. She was unapologetically herself around him and he loved it.

Hours passed like minutes, the two drawing closer to each other like magnets until they were face to face. She read in a soft tone as he played with her hair, his fingers toying with strands absentmindedly. She finished the chapter, looking at him with a small smile. “Any predictions so far?” she asked, a giddy tone once again in her voice. He thought for a second and spoke just as softly “I think he’s gonna kiss her, and then their friendship will be all changed and awkward.” He guessed, a teasing tone in his voice. His eyes flickered down to her lips for a split second, his tongue darting out to moisten his own.

‘And…what if it didn't? What if she liked it?” she whispered back, her eyes raking over him as she chewed on the inside of her cheek. His hand came up to cup her cheek, his slightly rough fingers moving over the soft skin. “So what you're saying is, hypothetically of course, their friendship might be the same? She might not be mad?” He asked, his face moving closer to hers. She simply shook her head and let her eyes close, waiting for his lips to touch hers. Instead she felt his forehead rest on hers, a shiver running through her.

She kept her eyes closed and let her forehead rest on his. “Is this weird?” He whispered, his fingers still running over her cheek and jawline. She shook her head again, “not weird” she whispered back. She just kept basking in the sweetness of the moment. Her stomach had butterflies and she was sure she would spaz out if she opened her eyes to look at his handsome face. “I wish we had more time, i wish i could really know you for you” He lamented, “I want-“ he started, his sentence interrupted.

A knock came to the door, the culprit opening it after a second. “Ok you two, time to start getting ready.” came the sweet voice of Hebe. The two teens parted from each other's embrace, Y/N poking her head out of the makeshift tent. “Be right there” the girl said with a dopey smile, Hebe only winked at her turning to leave the doorway “don't keep us waiting too long!” she called as she left. Y/N looked back into the tent at Finch “I'm gonna ask them to keep the tent up, meet me here after interviews are done?” she asked.

The boy gave her a grin “wouldn't miss it sugar” he said as he crawled past her and out of the pillow fort, offering her a hand once he stood. “You'll do great tonight, and I know you're gonna look gorgeous.” He said with the debonair grin she had seen before. She blushed “getting all flirty huh?” she teased. He only laughed, helping her up and kissing the back of her hand. “See you in a bit” she smiled as he parted from her, giving a wink as he walked out her open door.

She smiled to herself and sat on her bed, flopping back on it with a sigh. Part of her was ecstatic that this sweet handsome boy liked her but another feeling gnawed at the bottom of her stomach, fear. Fear of the unknown like the games and fear of the known, her budding relationship with Finch. Her thoughts were, like always, cut short by Aerith walking in. The tiny woman clapped her hands loudly, “up up darling, we have perfection to create.” the old woman demanded.

Y/N huffed out a breath and stood up, following the old woman who led her to the foyer. A clump of people waited for her and looked anxious to start picking and preening her to perfection. The group surrounded her, leading her to the elevator and then to an unmarked car that took her to the venue where she would get ready, they didn't even let her put shoes on first. She was rushed into the venue where the work began; her hair was put in giant rollers that felt somewhat itchy and her face was smeared with many different makeup and skincare products. A few people worked on her hair and nails while others poked at her face and neck with brushes for what felt like hours.

She was stripped of her comfy clothes and zipped in a long tulle ball gown. The dress glittered in the light, a dark blue fading into a purple color like the sky at dusk. The sleeves Fell off her shoulders and the deep sweetheart neckline accentuated her collar bones. A gooey substance was spread on her chest and rubbed into her skin, making it glitter and reflect light. Finishing touches were done on her hair and makeup before she was brought to a large 3 fold mirror for Aerith to give her approval.

She stood and looked at her reflection just as she had done that morning, studying her face and hair. She didn't look like herself, she looked like the capitol's version of her and it made the sinking feeling in her stomach grow. Aerith's heels click in unison with Furisha’s, the two women coming to study her in the light. Furisha held a box in her hands, opening it once they got closer.

Small iridescent glass beads made up a necklace and earrings, they looked like tiny flowers that she recognized. “Lily of the valley” she said aloud as Aerith took the necklace out of the box. “Beautiful, native to district 2” she said, pulling Y/N down to clasp the necklace on. The clasp clicked and she smiled “and poisonous” she added.

Y/N felt uncomfortable in her skin, a chill running down her spine. Furisha clipped the matching earrings on her ears “you really look like a princess darling” she said in a genuine tone. Y/N smiled back politely “Thank you” she said as she looked back in the mirror.

Brutus knocked on the door, “Almost ready? We still want to give some last minute advice.” He said loudly. Y/N took handfuls of her skirt, walking to the door and opening it. “Let’s do it, I wanna throw up and I can’t breathe in this dress.” She said as she walked past him.

The mentors had a little more than 15 minutes to give advice before peacekeepers lined all of the tributes up by district. A countdown started and obnoxiously loud music blasted through speakers, almost rocking the stage they stood behind. The trumpets blared a song very aptly called “war”, the signature song of the man currently rushing onstage. Caesar Flickerman.

The man was obscenely tanned and his hair was a bubblegum pink with matching eyebrows. His teeth were almost too white as he smiled to the crowd, a laugh coming out his mouth as he waved to the audience and took a microphone. “Happy hunger games!” He shouted as the crowd screamed.

Y/N looked up as Finch turned around in front of her. He wore a completely black suit that faded to a blood red at the limbs. A subtle detail and a subtle way to match the two. “I knew you’d look gorgeous” he flirted with a sly grin. Y/N reached up, fixing his crooked tie and patting his chest. “Thank you” she said with a small smile. He took her hand, holding in lightly as they waited.

The show began quickly, the tributes from district 1 going first. Ammo and Dutchess dazzled the crowd with their witty banter and upper class demeanors. Finally Finch swaggered onto stage, giving Caesar a firm handshake and smile. “I must say, you look very sharp tonight!” the television host commented, an outstretched hand offering Finch a seat. “Oh, never as good looking as you Ceasar.” Finch joked, earning a laugh from both the audience and the host.

“Well I must say I think we all thought you and your beautiful district partner dazzled us at the tribute parade! Didn’t they, folks?” Caesar said, riling up the audience momentarily. “Who’s idea was that amazing little stunt?” He asked, a large grin stretched across his face. Finch smiled that confident smile before speaking “It was my stylists idea but being honest it couldn’t have worked if Y/N wasn’t such a good partner, she can really go with the flow and be incredibly gracious about it.” He laughed.

Caesar laughed along “oh but we all know your strength really pulled it off, I mean look at those biceps ladies and gentleman!” Caesar said, pretending to fan himself. Finch only laughed again “I’ve been training a long time and at this point picking up another person is child’s play” he said, mock flexing to the crowd. His suit crinkled a bit at the shoulder as he did so, really showing the size of his bicep.

“Oh I bet the ladies back home just go crazy for you! A strong man with that smile and personality? Forget about it!” Caesar said with a wink “any lucky girl back home?” He asked, leaning forward a bit in his chair. “Oh no, I mean there have been girls but right now I’m just trying to get back to my family” he said with a genuine smile. “Well I can say for a certainty that if you make it back home you’ll have all the girls wrapped around your finger. I know your family would be overjoyed.” Caesar nodded

“I can only try my best, and I hope I’ll see you after all of this,” Finch said, waving to the audience. Caesar stood up and patted his shoulder as he did too. “And we can’t wait to see it all, may the odds be ever in your favor. Finch Glenn ladies and gentlemen!” The television host said, a shout at the end of his sentence and his signature laugh accompanying it.

Finch waved to the crowd once more and exited the stage. A gaggle of people met him offstage, Hebe praised him with a kiss on the cheek and Brutus gave him a pat on the back. Furisha babbled about how amazing he did and Enobaria smiled but kept her distance. Y/N gave him a thumbs up before looking out at where she was to enter the stage.

Caesar talked for a moment before finally introducing her. “And now for our lovely lady from district 2! The dazzling Y/N L/N!” He shouted, she made her way into the stage, holding her dress so she wouldn’t trip. The crowd cheered and Ceasar grinned. “My my! You look absolutely stunning my dear! Like a storybook princess!” He complemented, offering his hand.

She took his hand with a smile and let him twirl her gently. The dress glittered in the stage light, making the crowd whoop loudly. She smiled charmingly at Ceasar “Oh thank you so much, you are too kind.” She simpered. He led her to a chair, sat her down and she gracefully crossed her ankles. “I must say darling you certainly have a lot of admirers in the capitol already, and your stunt at the tribute parade certainly helped. Do you get a lot of attention back home?” He asked, a subtle wiggle in his brow.

She feigned a shy expression, “oh I’m not too sure about that, I think I’m a pretty average girl” she replied, batting her eyelashes. Caesar grinned at the crowd, “Beautiful and modest! What a catch am I right?” He said with a laugh, she smiled at him again.

“So y/n on a more serious note, what do you plan on doing in the arena? How do you plan to win?” He asked, taking on a more stern expression. She sat up a bit straighter flashing another grin “Oh you know I can’t tell you that, spoilers after all” she said with a wink at the cameras. Caesar gave another loud laugh, slapping his knee as he stood up and took her hand.

“Beautiful, cunning and agile! I think if you make it back to us you’ll be a true princess indeed!” He said as he kissed her knuckles. “Miss Y/N L/N everyone!” He shouted as the crowd cheered. She gave a wave and a small curtsy as she left the stage. Furisha gave her a large hug as she stepped offstage, blabbering about how good she did. Aerith gave a tight smile and Hebe kissed her cheek.

She looked around for Finch, meeting his eye as he was leaning back from the crowd. He walked over and took her hand as they spoke with their team, holding it tight. They watched as the rest of the rest of the tributes went on stage, mentors meeting them as they exited. Y/N once again caught the eye of the mentor from district 4, his dimples appearing as he gave her a smirk. She blushed and looked away, squeezing Finch's hand.

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#finnick odair #finnick x reader #thg series #fanfic #the hunger games #thg fanfiction #x reader #finnick odair x reader #thg #catching fire #mockingjay #oc #fanfiction

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heaven-s-black-box · 6 months

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Tomorrow- Pearl & Maya

Return to File

Recovery date: August 11th, 2020

Description: Maya and Pearl visit the ocean for the last time, not knowing it will be their last, and reminisce about their first visit.

Notes: Content warning for death. Recovered in conjunction with Pearls angst fan from research lab Ao3, we thank the for their contributions. The second entry can be found here.

Word count: 616

Back to directory

“Mystic Maya?” Pearl asked, turning back to look at her.

“Pearly, how many times do I have to tell you? Just Maya is fine,” Maya laughed, stopping a few feet from her cousin.

“Sorry,” she let out a nervous laugh, and rubbed the back of her neck. “Can we go get crepes after this? Maybe we can see if Mr. Nick and Trucy wanna do dinner too!” Maya laughed and moved closer.

“Sounds like fun! But first…” she crept closer, “water fight!” She laughed, kicking some water at Pearl.

The girls were taking a walk along the beach by the ramen cart. Maya had just finished sending off the spirits from the past year, and Pearl had joined her this year. Not to send off spirits, just for ramen, just some quality time.

Maya had only recently returned from the kingdom of Khura’in, so they had been planning to meet up. Pearl had kept the village in order while Maya was gone, so she’d offer to treat the younger to ramen as a thanks.

---

“Nick! Nick!” Maya cried into the phone.

“Maya! Please, calm down. What’s happening?” Phoenix asked.

He had been sitting around, dragging himself through paperwork when she called. The others looked over at the slight panic in his voice.

“It’s Pearl! One minute she’s fine, and we’re having lunch, next she’s doubled over in pain. I-I had to call an ambulance. We’re at the hospital. Um… General hospital. Don’t bring anyone else, I don’t want to worry anyone.”

“Okay, I’ll be there ASAP.”

---

Pearl coughed, “Mystic Maya?”

“Maya, Pearl. You can call me Maya… please?” Maya asked.

They were in Pearl’s hospital room, just waiting. Maya had been called in earlier that week. The hospital said that Pearl didn’t have long, she’d pass any day now. So Maya had come by, everyday, to keep her company.

“Maya, you don’t have to stick around. I’ll be fine.” Pearl’s smile was weak, and Maya couldn’t imagine the pain she must have been in.

“I want to be here, and I know the others will stop by as soon as possible.”

Pearl let out a weak laugh. “Maya, do you remember the first time we went to that beach together? The one by-”

“Ya, the one by the shrine. I remember. I snook you out of the village,” Maya laughed, “ Ms.Morgan bit my head off, and you tried to take the blame after. I told you it wasn’t your fault, and gave you the seashell.” She picked up Pearl’s he and and began rubbing the back of it softly with her thumb.

Pearl smiled, “I want to go back.”

Maya laughed. Her eyes stung, but she’d promised herself when this started, she wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t let Pearl see her cry.

“Alright, I’ll take you back. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday. We’ll have a picnic wit-”she was cut off by a long beep. Maya clutched Pearl’s hand tighter. “Pearl? Pearl! Someone! Please help!”

Maya stepped back as the doctors and nurses flooded the room. But it was no use, and she knew that. Even if there was a way to save her, Maya knew it was time to let go. Pearl would be safe with Mia, and Misty. She’d be happy, she wouldn’t suffer anymore.

The tears stung even more, and her throat tightened. She took out her phone as she stepped into the hall, and struggled to touch the blurry buttons. With a soft gasp and sniffle, she wiped her eyes and called Phoenix. She took a deep breath as the phone rang, although it didn’t ring long.

“Maya? What’s up?” She could hear the worry in his voice.

“Nick…”

#Researcher S's recovery #ace attorney #maya fey #pearl fey #angst

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juliafied · 3 years

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First Line Game

Thanks for the tag, @nug-juggler and @midnightprelude! And, updated (thanks for the tags, friends): @in-arlathan, @musetta3, @rainwolfheart!

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 favourite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favourite authors!

I only have 19 works, so here are my multi-chapter ones, followed by my oneshots below the cut. A lot of these are DADWC prompt fills, so here’s me nervously sweating hoping none of the first lines have blatant grammatical errors in them, haha! It is the coldest morning in Haven yet, and Lavellan’s lower back simply aches when she gets out of her narrow bed in the cottage that has been put aside for her.

Love All

He is serving, the first time Hawke spots him, the long fingers of his left hand holding the feathers of the shuttle elegantly, pinky and ring finger raised.

Taralen Lavellan (it’s a placeholder title, tbh, until I finally sit down to outline this one)

Dorian had been getting along quite well with Inquisitor Aeneris Lavellan. Famously, he could even say - she hadn’t even sneered at him after that rather embarrassing incident with his father.

To Build a Home

“Absolutely not,” says Hawke as she stands in the doorway, hands on her hips, swollen belly jutting forward. “I won’t let you.”

The Lone Wolf’s Call

Fenris spat bitterly on the ground and re-read the last sentences of the letter.

Taking Root

Fenris had been scrubbing his chest plate when he heard a loud knock at the front door of the manor.

For Good Luck

The scent of mulled wine hung heavy in the air in the kitchens of Vigil’s Keep, and Bethany could feel more than hear the deep rumble of Oghren’s laugh echoing from the mess hall next door.

Forward, Hopefully

They have been on the road for three days now, and neither the wind, nor the rain, have shown signs of stopping.

Haute Societé Bi-Weekly: 14 Harvestmere, 9:41 Dragon

It is a truth universally acknowledged that any Orlesian lady worth her salt in attendance at a ball must be in want of some salacious gossip.

Sublime Dissatisfaction

It was a quiet night in the Hanged Man.

Semi-Lucid

“Hawke.” This is painful, Fenris realizes.

Three Stars, Dragon Rampant

Fenris had picked the book because Hawke had said it was a Fereldan classic, with a proud note in her voice and everything.

Cold Hands

It is the coldest morning in Haven yet, and Lavellan’s lower back simply aches when she gets out of her narrow bed in the cottage that has been put aside for her.

Midnight Crepes

It is a curious thing, for Fenris, to be escorting Hawke home.

Antivan Pearls

Hawke stared at herself in the mirror, fiddling with her mother’s necklace.

Floral-Scented Soap

It had been raining all night.

Blue

Fenris was fairly certain he had never seen water this blue.

Youthful Arrogance

Solas watched the Inquisitor Lavellan’s face as she walked away towards the ballroom, the familiar pinch between her eyebrows returning, where it had smoothed momentarily while they talked.

Stretching Exercises

A shaft of sunlight woke Fenris by falling directly onto his left eye, peeking through a gap between the heavy dark velvet drapes Hawke had recently bought, ostensibly to prevent this sort of thing.

Hearts Left Behind

“We will toast to his memory.”

It looks like I really like starting with a ‘slice of life’ sort of phrase, that says what the character was doing immediately before the start of the story. My favourite one is probably the Haute Societe one, although that’s probably just because it’s adapted from one of the best and most famous first lines in literature, so maybe that’s cheating, haha. Other than that, I like Semi-Lucid’s, since it establishes angst with just a name and an observation that implies that this is more painful than he expected. I’d also like to play around starting with just dialogue, since that really kickstarts a scene so that I’m not held up so much in description.

Tagging @luzial, @pedlimwen, @noire-pandora (no pressure as always!)

#tag game #first line game #thanks for the tag!#julia writes

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hidden-otaku-stuff · 4 years

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Cornerstone (song-fic request)

Tw: drinking, cursing, inarizaki match spoilers

Word count: 1.4k

Pairing: Osamu x reader

Genre: angst with fluff ending

AN: hey anon! You didn’t specify if you wanted angst or fluff, so I decided to do an angsty story with a fluff ending :’) ugh i’m so sorry that this took so long!! I struggled so hard to write this 🥺

“‘Samu, I’m sorry.”

Osamu kicked the dirt, shaking his head as he stared at his feet. “S’not your fault. I know you don’t wanna.”

You stood there, wearing your thick fall coat that he had gotten you years ago, a suitcase by your side. “I love you.”

Osamu’s heart cracked. You had been together for over a year now, having gotten together shortly after the first year began. So why? Why couldn’t you stay?

“I love you too.”

*****

“‘Samu, you gotta stop moping!”

“‘M not mopin’,” Osamu scowled, glaring at his brother. They had just been knocked out of the second round. God, and they were the favorites to win? What a joke. “You’re mopin’, ‘Tsumu.”

Atsumu shrugged, a fake smile plastered onto his face. “It was my fault anyways.”

Osamu rolled his eyes. “Maybe we shouldn’t have played around so much.” The twins walked down the exhibition hall when Osamu stopped short. “(N-Name)?” He stutters, feet moving faster than his mind could process.

“Can I help you?” The girl turned around, tilting her head as her brow furrowed. Osamu released his grip on her red jacket, shaking his head.

“Sorry, you just looked like someone I know.”

“You’re Osamu, right? The wing-spiker of the infamous Miya twins?”

“That’s right.”

“I’m sorry to hear what happened. Karasuno’s a tough team, aren’t they?’

Osamu’s nose wrinkled. “Yeah.”

“Oh, sorry! I’m Sakura, I’m Nekoma’s manager.” She adjusted her bag. “They’re our destined rivals, y’know?”

Nekoma? He had never heard of the team before. Had they even been to Nationals before?

He shook his head, Sakura had kept talking. “Anyways, if you’re free, I’d love to show you around Tokyo? We can go grab a bite to eat or something.”

“Yeah, sure.” Osamu mumbled. He definitely didn’t want to hang around the stadium, especially since they were no longer playing.

“Great!” She grinned. “Here’s my number. How does 6 sound?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

Osamu absentmindedly entered the number into his phone. “Bye (Name).” He spun on his heels, heading back to the rest of his team.

“(Name)?” Sakura muttered, brows furrowed before shrugging. She was sure it wasn’t anything too serious. Unfortunately, that was a false hope because as soon as he had seen Sakura later that evening waiting outside his hotel, he had greeted her with (Name).

Sakura forced her lips into a smile, nodding stiffly as she nodded towards the bus. Over and over again, he called her (Name). “Oh, (Name), I think you’d like that! Let’s try that next, shall we?” as he pointed to a crepe place only to turn back and see Sakura instead. “Oh, sorry Sakura.”

“That’s fine.” Her throat constricted. “Hey, Osamu.”

“Yes (Name)?” He looked up only to see her wincing. “I’m sorry, Sakura.” His head hung as he huffed, warm air blowing out of his nostrils.

“You must really care about this (Name) person huh?” Osamu shrugged. “Let’s just cancel this, shall we?” Tears pricked at her eyes as she swallowed. “I wouldn’t want to take you away from anyone.”

Before he could open his mouth to protest, she had already spun on her heels and disappeared down the street. “Fuck.”

*****

“Hey ‘Samu.”

“Hey Suna.” Osamu plopped down at the lunch-table, scanning the group. “Odd question.”

Suna eyed the male over his bento before nodding slowly. “Shoot.”

“Heard from (Name) recently?”

Suna let out a soft sigh. “When are you gonna let her go, ‘Samu? She’s been gone for a year now. If you haven’t heard from her now, I don’t think you ever will.”

Osamu shrugged, an acrid taste in his mouth. “Can’t hurt to hope.”

“Hope for what?” Atsumu plopped down beside him, Ginjima on his other side. Ginjima tilted his head, waiting patiently for a response.

“Idiot is still hung-up over (Name),” Suna rolled his eyes causing Atsumu to scoff and roll his eyes.

Osamu ignored his twin, looking at the Ginjima as hope bubbled in his heart. “Have you heard from her?”

“Can’t say that I have, sorry ‘Samu.”

“It’s fine,” Osamu muttered, silver eyes cast to his meal. Though he had prepared his lunch, it tasted bad. Bland. Like his life had been ever since you left. He sighed again. Atsumu slammed his chopsticks down.

“That’s it.”

Startled, Osamu looked up at his twin. “‘Tsumu, what the -”

“You cannot stay sad over someone who didn’t even make the effort to stay in touch with her!” Atsumu growled, glaring at his twin.

“Whoa, calm down, Atsumu,” Ginjima grabbed Atsumu’s shoulder, only for the male to shake him off.

“You’re so busy asking us about her and thinking that every girl you see is her, but have you even texted her yet?”

Osamu swallowed, mouth dry. “She changed her number,” he mumbled. “That’s why I can’t get into contact with her.”

“Oh.”

*****

“Congratulations!” The glow of the massive fire was the only light on this cold March evening. The burn of alcohol stung Osamu’s throat as he took another swig. It was the annual graduation bonfire. All the third years had been invited, alcohol supplied by students with older siblings. He swung his head around, finding a familiar visage sitting on a bench by the fire.

The haze of the beer clouded his judgment as he stumbled towards the body, grabbing it and pulling her face to his lips. Loud cheers and hoots filled the air at the sudden embrace. Irritation filled his body. There was no way he wanted to share his reunion with (Name) with a bunch of drunk idiots. Dragging the girl away towards the trees, he pressed her body into the tree as he captured her lips with his once more.

“(Name),” Osamu groans, bringing her closer to his body.

Crack.

“Not a chance, Miya.” She spat before whirling around and storming off. Osamu blinked in his daze, hand cupping his cheek. All signs of his inebriation gone. That most definitely had not been you. He remained silent, slumping against the tree and sliding onto the ground. He buries his face into his arms, the well of tears spilling over as his body trembles. Why? Why can’t he get you out of his mind?

*****

“Dude! You need to stop sulking,” Atsumu entered the room, walloping Osamu with a pillow and causing the silver-haired male to huff in anger.

“What the fuck, Tsumu?” He snarled, throwing his phone beside him.

Atsumu eyed the phone, unimpressed at what was on the screen as he snatched it up. “You still have these pictures of her?” He rolled his eyes, waving the phone out of Osamu’s reach. “She never reached out to you, and even if you wanted to, you can’t reach out to her, so why are you still hanging on? What hope do you have for this?”

“I love her, Tsumu, what else do I need?” Osamu retorted, chewing on his bottom lip as his heart dropped. He loved you, he still did. No matter how many times he’s tried to be with someone else, taken someone else on a date, his mind always wanders back to you. It wasn’t his fault. After all, how could he throw away the year you two had been in a relationship after 4 years of pining after one another?

*****

Osamu yawned, foot tapping anxiously as he waited for the light to change. He was in Tokyo, visiting prospective campuses. He hadn’t decided yet on which university he wanted to go to, and his parents had convinced him to visit Tokyo to see if he wanted to try the city-life. A flash of familiar (h/c) hair filled his vision.

“(Name)?” He croaked, abandoning his post by the traffic light to sprint in your direction. You turned into a park, lost in thought until a sudden shout of your name had you turning back.

“Samu!”

“(Name)!” His body slammed into you, cradling your body into his. “You-You’re really here!” His fingers anxiously dug into your hips, praying that this wasn’t some type of illusion. “Is that really you? Can I still call you that?”

You smile softly, eyes prickling. “You can call me whatever you like, ‘Samu. It’s me.”

His grip tightens around you as he buries his face into your hair. “I’m never letting you go again,” he breathed, tears dripping down his face.

Wetness met his shoulder as you buried your face into his shoulder, nails digging into his back. “Me either.”

*****

AN: again, my song-fic requests are closed, so please do not request any song-fics! thank you~

general taglist: @scrappydaisies @newfriendjen @kyomihann @cheerysparkle @seiijixcia @shoyomeow @atsunakaashi

Please contact me if you would like to be a part of my general taglist! 💞 Check out this link for information about my taglists.

#osamu x reader #osamu angst #osamu fluff #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya angst #osamu miya fluff #inarizaki #hidden-otaku-stuff #skye's requests #skye reaches 400!#skye's milestones

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aurorahoneybuns · 4 years

Text

Save Him

Word Count: 1496

Warnings: Angst, Major character death

Reader x Todoroki

It seemed like last week was a million years away. You’d both been having breakfast, strawberry cream cheese crepes over Shoto's traditional mackerel, miso soup, and rice. Somehow you had conned him into making your sinfully sweet breakfast that morning. You’d both been laughing as he had cream cheese smeared across his cheek. You remembered the blush on his cheeks as you licked it up. And how he tossed you over his shoulders so effortlessly. The love and joy of that moment…

But now?

As you walked up to your door you noticed it was slightly open. Thats odd, Sho must’ve not noticed it when he came home today. Thinking nothing of it, the pushed your way into your shared home. Upon entering the site almost dropped you to your knees. The living room was covered in ice, and the kitchen in ash. Shoto’s quirks. How else would the house have become like this? Your mind started running at a thousand miles a minute. Then you noticed the blood all around. Smeared on the counter, droplets littering the hall. Where was he? Was he okay? Are they still here? You dropped your things reaching for the bat you kept in the coat closet. You were thankful that you had your sister’s quirk in opposite. You were able to make things have a heavier gravity, making them heavier and still being able to wield them no matter the increase. It made you feel like Thor and his hammer. If any villains lingered you’d be more than capable of taking them.

After checking each room, it seemed the whole apartment was cleared. Then the door behind you creaked open, you held the bat ready to strike. As the figure entered the room you swung giving the bat a crushing gravity. With a loud- THUNK!- you rushed to the persons side, only to see it was Ground Zero that laid on the floor clutching his side.

“Oi you fuck!!! What the fuck do you think you’re doing!? Trying to kill me?! What are you even doing here?” He looked up at your face, seeing the fear behind your eyes. He quickly stood up looking over you to make sure you were okay.

“I- I just came home… Everything was destroyed.” The words barely a whisper from your lips. You dropped the bat and allowed yourself to crumple into him. You started sobbing. He wasn’t here. You had no idea where he could have been. Your sobs grew louder and louder. Two more bodies entered the room you were in. Both Red Riot and Deku, the other pro Heros that worked with Sho and your brother-in-law. Their gazes on you as you broke down. Deku whispered into Ground Zero’s ear as he held you.

“She’s his fiancé Kacchan… She’s Uraraka’s sister. The hero Earthbound? She doesn’t know what’s happened yet. Here, let me taker her in.” He motioned for your weeping form and Ground Zero let out a sigh as he guided you towards Deku. You relished in the familiarity of his smell, since your sister always smelled the same. It brought comfort into your broken soul.

You let him pick you up to take you outside, where police and a few other Heros were steadily working the scene of your home.

Everything was moving around you in a slow blur. You watched as people moved in and out of your home. Carrying items that had burned, frozen, and bloody. You could only hope that your love was okay.

They’d taken you to the agency that they all worked at.

“Y/n!! Are you okay? Are you hurt?! What happened out there?!!? Why are you here?! Wheres Todoroki?!”Uchan crashing into you. You couldn’t even hear her words, just snuggled into her frantic form. You couldn’t hear her questioning Izukuchan, or even the questions directed at you. You just wanted to melt away in her warmth. It reminded you of snuggling into Shoto’s warmth.

“Uraraka! Stop for a minute! She’s in shock… she won’t answer anyone. She’s closed off right now. She hasn’t spoken since Kacchan found her. She’s shaking so bad Uchan… Todoroki… He’s gone… there was damage all over, and blood too. I think they were right to warn us… but they should have warned us to be careful for ourselves, not just our significant others. Maybe they used her to get to him. The LoV tends to sink that low…” He turned towards, eyes searching for answers.

“Used me…?” Your eyes focused and you looked between them both. “How..? I thought they had Toga under lock and key! How could they have used me?” You were angry now as you shoved away from Izuku and Uraraka. You glared daggers at him as a fresh set of tears streamed down your face.

“Oi! Deku! We gotta go! They found the location they’re holding the half and half bastard! Let’s go bring him home!” Ground Zero bellowed to the man beside you. You whipped around, composing yourself.

“I’m going too! I need to bring him home.” You tore yourself from their combined grips.

“You can’t go too! You’re not stable enough to go out into the field.” Your sister voiced, heavy with concern.

“Well if its my fault then I’ll be the one to bring him home” snapping back at her. In that moment you didn’t care if you were being rude. You just want Shouto home.

“Hell are we leaving or what? I don’t fucking care who comes as long as we hurry this up! My kids are at home waiting and their mom is going to pop any day now!” Ground Zero barked at the group.

“I’m coming” You responded as you walked past to follow the angry blonde to where ever he was leaving to.

You’d changed into your hero costume along the way. Thankfully it was dark and similar in color to the night. Helped you to camouflage into the background easier. After entering into the abandoned warehouse, you promptly took out two men with your hammer. They were down before they knew what hit them. For added benefit you touched their clothes making them weigh enough to stop any grown man. Ground Zero took out 3 more along the pathway to the large empty room. You looked around at the adjoining rooms, only one more light on. Hopefully that was the room.

As you peaked inside your heart broke.

There he was, your love looking worn and beat down. His hands were tied with quirk canceling cuffs, and they were hooked to a meat hook. It left him dangling from the ceiling. Bruises littered his body. There was a gag stuffed in his mouth. His cheek was broken and bleeding, there were cuts covering his abdomen. And a nasty gash on his thigh. Your poor love. Anger bubbled inside of you and it took everything within you to stop from screaming out. You inched closer, hoping to not startle him. His eyes slowly blinked at you, until they fully opened. He looked up at you with love and sadness. As you untied him and held him he relaxed into your chest.

“I’m gonna bring you home, okay? It’s gonna be okay.” Tears fell from your e/c orbs and he weakly wiped one away. He was in awe of your strength and in awe of your tenacity.

Explosions sounded behind you and a shout from Ground Zero. You picked him up, carrying him out to see what was going on. Another fire quirk, blue flames dancing around the room, and a girl stood beside the tall man with dark hair.

“And where do you think you’re taking our prize?” His voice was smokey and dark. It sent chills down your spine. Ground Zero rushed at them explosions letting loose. The girl beside him rushed you raking her nails against your chest. Blood seeped from your ripped costume as you fell to the floor.

“Whoopsie! Did I getcha doll? Sorry, everyone always tells me to keep my fingers to myself. But I think you should stay put. Don’t you?” The girls voice was sickeningly sweet. “I don’t now how much toxin you were exposed to, but we’ll find out here shortly.” Your heart dropped. How could this happen? You’d gotten so close to rescuing him. You looked over at the man who laid on the ground next to you. His eyes opened searching for warmth in your own. There wasn’t any to be found. Your body started to grow colder. You felt your heart slowing. It was getting harder to breathe.

“Y/n. I love you. I will always love you. Stay awake. Please stay with me…” His voice filled with sadness. You willed your eyes to stay open, failing to do so when the world faded into blackness. His cries were fading out farther and farther away. Using the last of your strength to whisper out to him.

“I love you too.”

Wow okay, anon I'm so sorry for breaking your heart. I broke mine too. Gonna go sad cry somewhere. I think I should probably write a follow up to this.

#bnha todoroki #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki shouto #shoto torodoki #shoto x reader #shoto #bnha fanfiction #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #my hero academy fanfiction #mha fanfiction #mha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha shoto x reader #angst #sadness #major character death

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thethoughtsfromthreeam · 4 years

Text

Sunshine

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x OC (Evelyn “Evie” Blaker)

Warnings: Smut

A/N: Enjoy the smut because angst is coming. I didn’t plan on it originally, but damn if it didn’t make sense to the story line. Ugh, angst, you bastard.

Reminder: I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit. I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tags: @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @beskars , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [PART 5]

Part 6

That Let You Fly High

“Evie!” Maxwell’s voice rang through the house as he walked in the door, dropping his briefcase by the hall table and hanging his coat on the rack. He was humming with a smile on his face. He was taking two days off and that, plus the weekend, meant he had four whole days of Evie to himself. His secretary asked several times if he was feeling okay and he was so blissed out on the thought, he couldn’t even pretend to be mad.

Evie herself was in the kitchen, looking out at the beautiful fall day and enjoying some hot chocolate. Marnie had gone home early for the evening and she was lost in thought when she heard Maxwell’s voice calling her. Something about the situation made her think of I Love Lucy and for a moment she felt like a fifties sitcom housewife. She giggled at such a silly thought, but it wormed its way further in her brain and something about it felt right.

Before she let herself dwell on the idea, she walked out in the dining room and met him halfway, both wearing matching grins. He walked up to her and leaned down to kiss her, her lips tasting of chocolate and whipped cream. He thought her natural sweetness was better. They kissed softly, a series of pecks on the lips that spoke of affection and hints of love where their tongues could not. Not yet anyway.

“Hello Max.” They pulled away and he took her mug and set it on the table. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and she leaned into him. He looked down into her face, that warmth he had grown to love seemed to crawl even deeper into his soul.

“I got a call from a friend of mine, Eric, inviting me to a fundraiser tomorrow. I think it’s for the botanical gardens or something. Anyway, I agreed and I’m taking you with me. I think we deserve a fancy night on the town to kick off our weekend.” He noticed a frown growing between her eyebrows.

“I didn’t come prepared for a fancy party though.” She was already taking mental inventory of what she would need. “I’d have to go shopping.”

“I figured, so we’ll just go shopping”

“We?” Her tone had an amused tone to it, and he grinned.

“Yeah. We’ll go tomorrow, do a little shopping, get some lunch. You know, make a day of it.”

“You’ll go shopping with me.” Her amused tone growing with each word until she got the giggles. He raised an eyebrow, trying to look mean but absolutely failing.

“Watching you trying on gowns? Why would I miss that?” His voice turned husky and she surprised herself by blushing under his look. A gleam glinted in his eye and she turned away from him, heat creeping across her body. He dropped a warm kiss to the back of her neck before leaving the room, knowing he left her body humming for him. His grin spread across his face.

---***---

Waincotters Boutique was one of those high-end parlor-style dress stores that in any other case Evie would have bypassed for a Nordstrom’s or Bloomingdale’s. She felt a little out of place with her jeans and tee shirt when she saw the way the salesgirls were dressed. Maxwell held her hand and he could feel the shivers as her nerves began to get to the better of her. He squeezed a little and glanced down at her. Its fine, the squeeze told her.

“Maxwell! So good to see you again! And who do we have with us today?” A sprightly woman with a greying bob cut smiled at the couple. The woman was entirely welcoming, and Evie felt a little more at ease under her kind eyes. They were whisked away to a private room with a comfortable sitting area and a small platform with mirrors.

“I’m Susanne and I’ll be helping you find the perfect dress for tonight’s event.” The woman sat down with them and another came through the door with snacks and drinks and set them on the table before leaving the three alone again. “What kind of event is it?”

“Formal wear, not quite black tie.” Maxwell had called Eric to get more information and that was all he was told. “Not cocktail as far as I know.”

“Perfect. Now Miss. . .”

“Evie.”

“Miss Evie.” Susanne smiled again and took Evie’s hands into her own, the skin warm and comforting.

“Tell me what you like in a dress. Sleeves? No sleeves? Slit? Silk? Crepe? Color? Cut? Style? Shape? Length? Train? No train? Neckline?” The questions were almost overwhelming to her and Evie took a deep breath. Susanne smiled and patted her hand, recognizing that look of too much information on the fiery blonde’s face.

“How about this, let’s start with something easy. What color do you like to wear?”

“Oh purples!” Evie sounded excited for the first time since everything started. “I love purples, but dark ones like plum.”

“Great!” Susanne wrote somethings down and continued to asked questions like sizes and height. “Let me pull a variety and let you try them on and then we’ll narrow it down.”

Evie nodded and soon a dozen dresses in ranging from a deep plum to a royal purple in all different styles were hanging in front of her. While she didn’t have a full affinity for fashion, she did love quality clothing. Most people thought her outfits for work were staid, but the fabrics were rich, and quality made. Even her jeans and tee shirts were well fitted and everything she wore was tailored as needed. Being able to pick out a fancy gown was like being handed a gift, almost heavenly.

As she glanced down at the price tag, though, her eyes bugged out and she snapped her head around to look at Maxwell. He started laughing, choking on his drink in the process. He still laughed as he wiped his pants off.

“MAX!” She hissed. “This dress is almost $7,000! I can’t afford this!” She put the dress back on the rack as if it were on fire.

“You’re not, I’m buying it.”

“Oh no you’re not. We’re leaving and going to Saks or something.” She stepped off the platform to grab her purse when he shot his hand out to stop her.

“Evie. Stop worrying about it. I’m buying you a dress, it’s no big deal.”

“I can’t let you spend $7,000 on me!” Her voice rose with every word until the last one came out as a squeak. “That’s outrageous, it’s too expensive. THAT’S SEVEN GRAND!”

“Evie, please calm down for one second.” Maxwell looked her in the eyes, an amused and almost loving look to them. “I care about you finding a dress you love and that you’ll want to show off tonight. I want you to feel good. Price is of no matter to me. And if I thought it was, do you think I would have brought you here in the first place?”

She stopped and seemed to calm down somewhat, her face still red as she looked at the first dress she had pulled off the rack.

“Well, you got me there.”

“I know. Now ignore the price tags, find what makes you feel beautiful and its yours.”

“I never had anyone spend so much money on me.” Her tone was low, not meaning for him to hear her. It was almost obscene how much he was willing to spend, and she felt a little guilty. Kind of how she felt guilty asking to order a second dessert on their first date. Quality she was willing to spend money on, but boy, $7,000 was way too rich for her decidedly middle-class tastes.

“I suppose it would be crass to say that you’ve never had anyone with my level of wealth buying things for you.” He smiled as she giggled.

“That’s true.” She walked back over to the dresses and ran her fingers across them, feeling silk and crepe and a jersey so soft a baby could have been swaddled in it. And they were her favorite color. . . She turned around.

“Are you staying here while I try them on?”

“That was the goal.” Again, his voice turned slightly husky and a small smirk grew on her lips. As he sat down, she turned and walked over to the door, head poking out, she asked for a pair of heels in her size and muttered something to the salesgirl. She stepped back into the room and closed the door, locking it behind her.

Maxwell had settled back into his seat, taking off his jacket and rolling up his cuffs. He popped a cracker into his mouth, not really paying attention to Evie as she stepped back onto the platform. She faced away from him and pulling out a hair tie, she swept her long locks into a bun. When she could see Maxwell looking at her, she dropped her hands to the hem of her shirt.

Capturing Maxwell’s eyes, she held his gaze as she slowly raised her shirt, exposing the skin of her stomach inch by inch. She ran her hands up and across her breasts as she continued to pull up the fabric, her yellow bra peeking out from under the shirt. He swallowed, but her face remained stoic.

She grabbed the hem of her shirt and whipped it over her head, dropping it on the floor. She stood there a moment before bringing her hand to the button of her jeans. She popped the button as she toed off her flats. She could see the bulge growing in Maxwell’s pants and his eyes were darkening. She unzipped her pants and pushed them off her hips. She bent over and thrusted her ass out in his direction as she pushed them off her legs. From where he sat, he could see the crotch of her panties darkening as Evie became more and more turned on.

Evie remained bent over, slightly turning her head and she saw that Maxwell had loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves. Those forearms of his, the crisp blond hairs glistening in the overhead lights, something about his strong forearms sent shockwaves of pleasure to the very center of her. She slowly stood up and stepped out of the puddle of denim at her feet, kicking it off to the side. A low groan came from behind her as she stood there in just her underthings. She paused until he looked her in the eye, and she bowed her head slightly.

Reaching up, she unhooked her bra’s front clasp and the fabric gaped, her breasts spilling out and her nipples playing peek-a-boo with the lace edges. She saw Maxwell shift behind her, his bulge now clearly visible in the mirror’s reflection. She could his hands gripping the arms of the chair, knuckles almost white. She threw him a sultry smile as she dragged her fingertips from her chin down the front of her neck to the middle of her chest.

She let her hands rest there before fanning out her fingers and lightly running them across her breasts, moving the bra off them and exposing her harden nipples to the cooler air of the dressing room. She could hear Maxwell’s heavy breathing growing more rapid as he watched her actions in the mirrors. Evie kept moving her hands, pealing the yellow material off her body and let it drop behind her. She threw Maxwell a coquettish look in the mirror as she brought her hands back to her breasts.

She spread her hands until her flesh was covered, and she could feel the hard nub of her nipples against her palms. She lolled her head downward, keeping a steady gaze with Maxwell, who was practically vibrating with want. Her fingers were soft against her skin and slowly she dragged them until her fingertips were against her nipples. He watched as she flicked her wrists and twisted the taunt flesh and her moan went straight to his cock.

The ripples of pleasure in her breasts were making her clit feel needy and her hips jerked forward, pulsating for a touch. Her body slightly bowed into herself and her mouth dropped open although no sound came out. Evie tried to maintain eye contact with Maxwell, but the pleasure was so overwhelming that she closed her eyes, chasing the edges of her climax. She continued to tweak her nipples, her body straining for her clit to be touched.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore and she dropped her hands, brushing them over her clothed mound. She could feel her panties growing damper with each passing moment and she unconsciously rubbed her thighs together. Suddenly, she turned around, facing her audience for the first time since she locked the door.

“Max. Come here.” He didn’t need to be told twice, he was out of his chair and in one long stride, he stood in front of her. The dark pools of his lustful eyes drew her in, and she threw him a sultry look. “Take off my panties.”

He groaned as he dropped to his knees, looking at up at her. Maxwell felt like he was on fire. The minute he saw the skin of her stomach, he was lost. The more she exposed, the harder he became, and he desperately wanted to fuck her senseless. His entire body itched to feel her skin, his tongue wanted to explore the slit he knew was soaked, and he cock ached for her. He brought his hands to her hips and he could see them shaking in anticipation. This woman is undoing him, a small voice inside him said. And we fucking love it, replied the roaring lust consuming him.

He hooked his fingers underneath her silky boy shorts, the shape framing out her hips and ass beautifully. With a slow tug, they were dragged down her legs and the smoothness of the silk created flames of heat along her skin, felt long after he tossed the scrap of fabric to the side. Every inch of her felt like she was on fire the minute Maxwell touched her. She looked down at him and he could barely see the golden brown he’d come to love – the pupils blown out so wide her eyes were black, and he felt as if they were sucking him in.

“Touch me.” Her voice was a raspy whisper and Evie felt that if he didn’t, she just might die. Thankfully for her, he obliged, and their eyes remained locked as Maxwell slowly dragged his large hands up her legs, letting just his fingertips skitter across her thighs. Her body bowed again, and the quiet moan came from deep in her chest. Her eyes nearly fluttered shut, but she stopped herself so she could look at him in front of her, eyes full of supplication and want. She had brough the great and powerful Maxwell Lord to his knees and the very thought made her feel hedonistic. She brought her hands up to his shoulders, giving her something solid to hold onto as she began to float away on a river of pleasure.

Maxwell ghosted his hand around her left thigh before grabbing it and lifting her leg. He hooked it over his shoulder, and he brought his hands to her hips. Tipping them slightly, he brought his mouth to her slit and flattened his tongue, dragging it through her folds before resting on her clit. Her whole body shuttered, and she moaned at the sensation. Her hands moved up to grip his hair, giving her the balance she needed to stay upright.

Her tugs on his hair sent pleasure directly to his cock and his own hips jerked forward. He smiled against her before licking her again, focusing on her clit with every pass through. When her thighs began to shake with her building orgasm, he brought his hand down and sunk two fingers deep into her heat. She gasped his name at the sensation and the feral feeling in his chest grew. This woman’s pleasure was his and his alone and he was going to take it.

Evie’s eyes fluttered shut and her body continued to tremble at the overwhelming sensations she was experiencing and her grip on him grew tighter. His eyes, despite their lust, were full of adoration for her and she never felt as cherished in such a position as she did now. Something bloomed deep inside of her, something behind the lust that wrapped its ghostly fingers around her heart.

“Max, I’m going to come.” She whispered it, trying to keep the noise down as to not arouse suspicion from the salesgirls. He nodded as he continued to pump his hand into her, and he zeroed in his tongue on her clit. Soon the familiar coils in her stomach reached their breaking point and she gritted her teeth as she came, the strangled cry sounding hoarse. He withdrew his fingers but kept licking her clit until he felt her pulling his head away from her.

Her skin was flushed, and her body kept trembling against him, her chest heaving with exertion. He could tell she was barely standing upright, she always lost control of her body when she came. Knowing that he brought her to such highs felt like the best drug he could take. Every pant, every groan – he was able to draw those from her and he almost was addicted to it.

He brought his hands to her hips and leaned back onto his heels. He had to have her, and his hand dropped to his crotch. Maxwell unzipped his pants, pulling his rock-hard cock out, precum practically dripping out of him in a continuous stream. He palmed himself, stroking a few times to spread his own slickness along with hers. He found himself struggling not to go any further.

“Sit on my lap, Evie. I need you on me.” His voice sounded desperate, a vibration that resonated with her. They fucked several times since she arrived in the city, but something about this time seemed different and she felt as if she would die if she didn’t feel him inside of her. She dropped to her knees, straddling his lap as he grabbed the base of his cock. She slowly lowered herself onto him and her breath stuttered out of her lungs as she felt him fill her. When he was buried to the hilt, Evie briefly thought that Maxwell was touching her very soul and she wasn’t sure where they each began and ended.

She dropped her head onto his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him. Even though he was fully dressed, the heat of his skin seemed to burn Evie and in turn Maxwell felt as if no clothes were between then at all. His own arms wrapped themselves around her waist, his face buried into her neck. He took a deep breath and the warm scent that was so uniquely hers filled his lungs and hazed his mind.

They sat like that for several long minutes, just savoring the moment. On that platform, in the dressing room, something changed between them fundamentally. The touches, the comments, the thoughts, the looks, the sensations had been building, the belief that everything just felt right to them converged in that shared moment. The squeeze on Maxwell’s heart was vice-like and he could feel tears prickling under his lids. He shifted his hips and he touched something in her that caused her to gasp into his shoulder, almost watery sounding, as if Evie had tears of her own.

She lifted herself before dropping back down onto his cock and Evie shuttered as the pressure in her lower belly began to spark again. He was sensitive and every movement, no matter how small, was sending out ripples of pleasure through his whole body. The next time she lifted her hips, he drove into her and her moan was right in his ear. It was so loud to him and he moaned in response. Soon they caught a rhythm in that same pattern, their pace soft and slow at first but as the rise of their shared climax began to consume them both, things began to feel more desperate.

Evie raised her head off Maxwell’s shoulder, biting her lip to stay quiet, but she felt compelled to look him in the eye as she came. He pulled his own head out of her neck and he brought his hand up to brush the tendrils of hair that had escaped her bun and stuck to her face. They stared at each other as their pace continued to increase and their bellies felt on fire – the one that consumes you until you are nothing but ash, waiting for rebirth at the apex of pleasure.

His hips were snapping into her and she gave into him, wanting to come desperately. He knew exactly when she did, even before her walls clamped down on him, he could see it in her eyes. She bit her lips to conceal her scream, a strangled sound replacing it instead and he drove into her one last time before coming himself. He was always quiet, but he found himself tamping down a strangled cry of his own. They bowed into each other, as if they could crawl inside the other and never leave.

He slowly withdrew from her and she slid off his lap with a less than graceful thump on the platform, legs slightly splayed out. He could see their mixed come glistening between her legs and his breath caught for a moment. She laughed and he did, too. He leaned into her and kissed her gently on the lips before getting up and heading to the small bathroom. He came back with a towel, his cock back in his pants, although the damp spot she created on the front of them would have been hard to hide had it not been for his jacket.

He gently cleaned her up, stealing kisses on her lips, her cheeks, her neck, - wherever he could touch her, and she responded in kind. The smile on his face was gentle and loving and hers was, well, it was always like that and he relished it as usual. Once she was cleaned up, she put her panties and bra back on.

“You going to watch me try on dresses?” She asked again and he nodded as he helped her up. He went to sit back down and observed her as she pulled dresses and put them back, trying to get a feel for everything. But every time, she came back to a dark purple silky jersey dress, one that seemed perfect to her.

Reminiscent of Hilary Swank’s 2004 Oscar dress, Evie noted that it had a high back and a boat neckline, but was fitted, with ruching along the waist that would accent her shape beautifully. She always preferred to be covered, and as she ran her fingers along the gown, the silk felt heavenly. For a brief second, her brain flashed an image of said silk wrapped around Maxwell’s cock. Her smirk was nearly hard to hide.

She looked at Maxwell, who was looking at his phone and not paying attention to her. She snagged it off the hanger and went back onto the platform. She stepped into the heels and slipped the dress on. She looked at the ceiling and said a silent thank you. It fit and with three-inch heels, the dress gently brushed the ground. She felt divine and based on Maxwell’s whistle, looked it too.

“Evie, you look. . .” He waved his hands at her. “Fucking hot.”

She laughed and turned around, giving a T-pose perfected by years on the pageant circuit as a college student. Her hands sat on her hips and the way she twisted her torso, her breasts looked round and perfect. Despite just having fucked her, Maxwell desired to fuck her again.

“Sold. This is it.”

“You want the shoes, too?”

“God no, these things hurt like hell and I’ve only had them on for five minutes. We’ll find another pair elsewhere.” He nodded as she stripped out of the dress and got her clothes back on. She put the dress back on the hanger and draped it gently over her arm before turning back to Maxwell.

“I feel bad, we didn’t eat anything they set out.”

“Eh, we found something better.” She laughed and swatted at his arm. He grabbed her purse for her, and they left the room. Susanne was waiting for them when they exited and was excited to see that Evie found the dress that she wanted. They talked more as the purchase was rang up. The two left the shop and slid into the waiting car, Bennett’s cheery hellos a welcome sight.

“Look at that, found the perfect dress and saved you money.” She looked at him with a grin. The price for this dress had only been $2,000. She was still appalled that anyone was spending that amount on her, but she could stomach that figure over $7,000 any day of the week.

“The perfect woman,” He smiled at her and leaned down to whisper, “especially in bed.”

She grew red at his comment but couldn’t stop the giggles that bubbled up in her throat. The day had been perfect, and she was in heaven.

#maxwell lord #maxwell lord x oc #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #ww1984 #Wonder Woman 1984

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baobaojng · 4 years

Text

what the water gave me - three

what the water gave me - one, two, three

kim junmyeon (suho) x reader - god!au , paranormal-ish!au

themes: angst, fluff, smut (in the future)

warnings: fic might be a bit graphic, mentions of some characters aren’t historically accurate.

summary: the group of gods had something coming for them, and they did not know what— because of this, you were forced to go back to an old part of yourself you’d sworn to hide away. but of course, everything else would be made complicated when you’d meet the god of water.

wordcount: 6,278

“I’ll get the last slice.” Junmyeon said, not being able to have at least a bite of the crepes you had made together. The other boys had demolished them right after Kyungsoo claimed they were ‘heavenly,’ begging for your recipe. Though everybody else protested, they gave in because they knew he didn’t get to try any of it. You excused yourself from the dining table, wanting to take a breather on you own. Everybody else was pretending that they didn’t spy on you and Junmyeon in the kitchen, but even if they didn’t - they could see the way you stole glances as you watched them eat the dessert you prepared.

You looked at Junmyeon who was looking back with eyes filled with an expression as if to say - do you want me to come with you - but you softly shook your head no and walked off anyway.

Again did you find yourself in the spacious hallways, the ceilings were somehow higher here than they were in the rooms. It was all painted in cream white, but the stained glass windows emitted a baby blue tone to the surroundings. Red carpets were lain in the middle of the walkway, and you balanced every step to try and form a straight line as you went by. The night sky was filled again, and some sense of wonder washed over you when you saw how the stars twinkled around like diamonds. You closed your eyes to take in the feeling, it was odd - you easily forgot all the things that inhibited you from using your strengths, even if it meant that it would be a few seconds.

You were about to trip on the tassels of the ends of the carpet when you felt your ankle tighten; Minseok aiding you through frost, thawing it away when you regained a little bit more composure.

“Do you want to see our gallery?” He whispered and suspiciously looked around if anyone was there with you.

In the same tone you answered back, “is no one else supposed to know about it?”

“Everyone knows about it, but Junmyeon might not want you to see it.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Was there anything to hide?

“The gallery holds a lot of sacred history.” Jongin appeared out of practically nowhere, but that wasn’t something that surprised you. “Maybe there’s sensitive content.” He winked a little bit but Minseok interjected.

“Don’t scare her!”

“It isn’t like you weren’t the one offering to take her to see the gallery like it was a drug deal.” Jongin defended himself, and now all you can see were two bickering men.

“So are any of you actually taking me, or do I have to figure it out on my own?” They needed a little interruption. Otherwise, they would have created a ruckus where there wasn’t supposed to.

“Of course we’re taking you, if we don’t then where’s the fun in that?” Minseok said.

A lot of twists and turns of the hallways leading up to the gallery were waiting for the three of you, Jongin swore he could have just teleported you but Minseok insisted that you had to familiarize yourself with the mansion anyway. On the way there, conversation was struck up - and you had learned that Minseok was the eldest of the gods, his power quite similar to Junmyeon’s. They worked hand in hand often times, but he preferred to take on the role to give Junmyeon brotherly advice when needed. Before he could continue on to share his story, you stopped in front of a large wooden door with a golden latch sitting perfectly in the middle of the parting - it looked similar from all the other ones you passed by.

“Go ahead, try.” Minseok said, waving his hands toward the direction of the door. If you thought it was as simple as opening the door, you were wrong. It felt like you were inserting yourself through concrete: impossible.

“Not like that.” Minseok said, but you still exerted your weight.

“Hyung, are we not going to get into trouble?” Jongin wondered.

“I’m sure he’ll understand,” Minseok spoke as if you weren’t there, “if you’ll never figure it out, you’ll always be in harm. This is just a little bit of practice.” He directly told you, but you still couldn’t understand.

“Try, Y/N. I meant, try.” He encouraged you.

“What do you mean?” You still didn’t get it.

“Try with how you can see.” He hinted on it, and you had to take a deep breath for what you knew you had to do next.

Fingertips found their way somewhere by the big door, you tried to feel the way the tree was carved and how it was made into this monstrosity of a door. Suddenly you saw visions of a seedling, somewhere in the forest of the god, growing and growing and growing, until it had been chopped down and carved by their angels. You swore you smelt the faint scent of paint, seeing each stroke of a painter’s brush. Then you heard familiar laughter, Chanyeol and Baekhyun running down this very hallway as they passed by but dressed in Victorian suits. You saw each other boy in different phases, Minseok even growing a thin mustache at one point. Tiny photographs into a memory: Junmyeon with a woman’s arm wrapped around his, you could see how his front teeth shone out of happiness. And then he controlled the latch of the door with his power, the slightest amount of sweat making a creaking sound. Before you could interrupt this memory, you opened your eyes.

You felt light headed, your knees bending back slightly only having Jongin and Minseok assist you back into bette posture. “Are you alright?”

A laugh left your lips, you were, you definitely were. “A little practice, right?” They both looked impressed. Without any words, you controlled the latch with nothing but your mind.

Then, you had successfully opened the door. “Before you.” You told the two of them, and they did.

The same blue reflections flooded the massive hall, it was wide - and there were some smaller doors by the sidelines. Minseok found the lights, turning them on to reveal warmer hues that lit up each painting and each statue.

You realized that this gallery was dedicated entirely to who they were in all the different lives they sought out— each human they pretended to be, all the eras they lived. Personal documentations of memory, carved into stone or painted on canvas.

This was a goldmine to your clairvoyance, each object a whole different set of memories you could experience with a single touch.

“The ones you can see are mostly from after we won the great war.” Jongin pointed out, and you observed all of them.

“After the great war...” You wanted to know which one this was, if their wars were any different from the wars the human race had suffered.

“The war of men, when they invented machines and they killed their own to discover the kind of destruction that could divide them further as a race.” Minseok described with not lingering emotion, but talking with some attachment to it.

“The world war?” You asked and they both nodded.

Minseok pointed at all the different models of themselves, “but these don’t hold much meaning to them. These were the days where we only had to keep an eye out for little chaoses and made little ones of our own. More like our days of leisure, when we really lived like men.”

“I’m sure they do hold meaning,” you said hoping to make sense to the two of them, “I don’t think gods are as sentimental as us, but I bet you spent your time in the most happiness. If this was after the war, it should have kept you feeling happier that you were secure.”

“Gods are never secure, dear. These are only illusions of that faith, even if the rest of us did have our versions of leisure - there was always one that reminded us of our real duties on this earth. And he never let us forget.” A large faded gray photograph was isolated from all the rest in the middle of the wall. Junmyeon wore a tailored suit, his hair cut a little bit shorter and slicked back, no emotion in his eyes when this was taken. You did not recognize this version of Junmyeon.

“Suho, 1947.” You read at the plaque that labeled it.

“A little after the second world war ended, all the most important men were allowed to take photos and this was the only one he asked to take.” Jongin said.

But Minseok intruded to say something again, “but his wars never did end, he has always been worrying. I fear he always will be.”

“He takes his responsibility too seriously.” You had to agree, even if you were not knowledgeable about the extents of his leadership.

“It is because it is all we will ever know in our never-ending lives, and he is the only one to deeply cherish it.” Minseok said. “And this is when I tell you it is important for you to understand the waters you swim in, it means one thing to love a god but another when a god chooses to feel the same way.” He meant it literally and metaphorically.

You leaned to look at the picture again, only wanting to hear whatever else Minseok had to say.

“He knows what he is, and he will always be this, I’m sure you understand the dangers.” He finished simply.

You shoulders slumped just a little bit, “I’m bummed that I am not exactly certain of what I feel, Minseok.”

“You don’t have to, don’t you? It’s all the same without the declarations anyway, you like him or you love him - you’re on the way toward professing these feelings or catching them. If they’re real and there aren’t big obstacles you have to roll over to get to him and for the two of you to find each other, then it should be clear like it is right now. There is something there, and these are the things you are afraid of: all the technical god crap.” Jongin offered, and there was no way you could contest to that.

“I’m not telling you any of this is your fault don’t let the god crap get in the way of what your heart tells you, but I just want to tell you that there isn’t anything wrong with emotions - just be prepared when anything happens.” Minseok tried to give half a smile, but it was all alright in your head.

Of course you understood.

You looked around a a little bit more, but before you left you grazed your hands a little on Junmyeon’s painting.

You saw the moment the picture was taken, men all around him - the camera man signaling through a countdown on his fingers when he’d click the button attached by the large wire before disappearing under the curtain. Junmyeon just looked into the camera, as if it had hurt him to do so.

—

When you knocked at the door of his study, he did not expect for you to come in. He was reading an old favorite book of his, it was the eleventh time he has decided to re-read it but it made him feel the same way it made him feel all the time.

“Late night reading?” You asked him, as he looked up at you. You noticed the reading glasses he wore (they probably weren’t even necessary for him to wear) and how he seemed to look even younger now than he did in the photograph you had seen. The memory of him looking that way couldn’t be shaken off of your head, you had to remind yourself that this was Junmyeon now and he looked and felt like a much different person.

“Says she who wandered around for quite a while.” His eyebrow raised and you were suddenly beaten at teasing.

“You’re just a little disappointed I didn’t ask you to come with me.” And he nodded all too quickly at that. A smile crept on your lips and you took some steps closer to him, you pinched at the corners of the book he was reading. “May I?” He did not know how to respond, but he let you do whatever it was you had to.

“This is the twelfth time you are reading this book, and it’s your favorite.” you describe to him - you could see much more than what you were leading on but you simply did not tell him. There could have been more to say, but you did not want to exert yourself any further.

He was pleased, “I think that’s enough peeking through for a while.” He requested, seeing that you were a little out of breath after keeping your hands there for a little too long now.

“Did you go up to the roof when you were looking around?” Junmyeon asked, hoping you hadn’t.

“No, just few of the rooms. Minseok and Jongin bumped into me and helped me get around so I wouldn’t get lost. This place is enormous.”

“Did they tell you about the house itself?” You murmured a no, wanting for him to continue. “This place doesn’t exist.”

“But I’m here though, aren’t I? Does that not qualify enough for it to exist?” There was going to be an interesting explanation for this.

“I mean it does, it just isn’t really settled between the border of your world and our’s. We can manipulate this entire house if we want more rooms, if we want to hide some, we can change the way this place looks out of thin air.”

You sniggered, “of course; you’re gods. I’d be surprised if you couldn’t do anything of the sort.”

“You’re pretty hard to impress.” He sighed sarcastically.

“Don’t you know how to charm women, Junmyeon?” You teased and he jokingly pressed at his chest, pretending to be hurt by the question.

“Of course I do, it’s all just a little different. Sometimes I could tell them that they’re the prettiest flowers I’ve ever seen, sometimes I give them gifts and ask them if they are free to go for lunch or dinner. I could charm their parents if needed for their hand.” He described from experience.

A ‘tsk’ left your mouth, “you’re such a textbook kind of man.” You giggled when his expression blanked, he felt like he wanted to curl up into a ball - half anxious that he felt just so shy. “Tell me about me, how would you charm me?” Matter pressed upon him he stood up from his chair to stand next to you, leaning on the desk.

A hum left his closed lips, looking over at you. Your eyes were a little bit puffy, it told him that you seldom slept. Your cheeks flushed and your breathing staggered; he knew you felt just as nervous but you were trying to act like you had it all handled anyway. Your hair flew around at the edges of your face, but tucked carefully behind your left ear. But your eyes stared up at him like he was the first thing you’ve ever seen.

“I’d tell this beautiful creature that she is a labyrinth of emotion, that I cannot comprehend her own knowledge most times because it intrigues me. I have not felt this way before about anyone else, because maybe the higher gods created her in likeness of everything that scares me but draws me in. If that isn’t exceptional at the very least, I’ll tell her that she’s made me smitten - if that matters at all to her.”

—

A week passed, and things were sailing significantly smoother. You settled into a new room in the house (they had to keep you waiting for an hour before they fabricated what they thought was an appropriate room), and it all really felt natural. Everything was soft practice of your power, a lingering touch here and there just for you to be able to get used to the surge of energy your body spent.

Kyungsoo gave you free reign to disturb him in the kitchen when he prepared meals or simply when one of you wanted to prepare something, Yixing would pop in sometimes to be the judge of the food (to which he was always impressed with.) Jongdae, Sehun, and Minseok brought you to work and picked you up, the car rides were actually just mini concerts. Chanyeol, Jongin, and Baekhyun would randomly take you away to have what they called ‘fun,’ but really it would be Baek and Chanyeol bickering and Jongin finding the ordeal entertaining. The more chaotic three would also encourage you to take more shots at using your abilities promising to keep it a secret between the four of you, for the most part it was easier for you to understand memories now - to read particular pieces without having your head throb to really force yourself to understand.

Evenings were spent with Junmyeon, and in the span of time you really got to know each other better. It was easier to make him laugh, and it was easier for him to ease his terrible jokes into conversation - but you liked his jokes. You established a sort of understanding— disappearing to walk in the gardens at night, stealing glances in the chilly night air and talking about what you loved and what you hated and everything in between. Your hands would graze; you walked together in minimal distance, but blushed each time you felt him. At this point, it felt like you knew each other’s secrets. Bonding over the idea of companionship, sharing the deepest ideas your minds could conjure. Alas, you kept sacred parts of yourself tucked away out of fear, never wanting for him to know the stains your hands still had - invisible stains of guilt residing in between your fingernails. And he too: bottling up his own weaknesses, not being able to rationalize how to tell you and if he thought it was necessary to at all.

Each time you’d get back inside there would always be good news from the boys, conditions were reverting a little bit better and a little bit more normal. Junmyeon would not lie if he had said that this did not disappoint him, as wrong as it did sound, maybe whatever this force was dissipated and he quite feared that there would be no reason to keep you with them longer.

Even though things seemed to get better, you found yourself in fear. You had dreams at night about this cloudy dark figure was absorbing more life for it to animate itself, it had glowing eyes that would stare back at you with the demand of your sanity. You discussed this with Junmyeon many many times, all the nights the same recurring image would wake you up from slumber. This was the only thing that bothered him for the past week, but everything else was swell. When you did mention these dreams to the rest of the boys over breakfast they reacted quickly, not failing to express how worrisome this might actually mean.

“The threat isn’t completely gone because the symptoms are slowly disappearing.” Yixing said, in the most suiting set of words he could.

Junmyeon agreed but he was caught in a dilemma. “How are we meant to deal with it when we do not know what it is?” No one came up with immediate answers, everybody just looking at each other in hopes of an idea.

“Maybe you haven’t really considered my former suggestion?” You told Junmyeon, and he could not recall what it was. Details were forgotten and replaced by the moments you spent together, and he was guilty that he was clueless at the moment.

“Which was?” He asked you, and it worried him when you put your hand on top of his own in an effort to possibly prepare him - warn him almost.

“The oracles, Myeon. Maybe they can help us.” All the while he had thought that maybe you would forget you ever mentioned this, but he did. Everybody was waiting for a response, and he knew that this was the last place he’d ever want to resort to but he sighed.

“Okay.”

—

When anyone mentioned the ‘oracles,’ there were many of the sort: the oracles patronized by the higher gods, the oracles patronized by the likes of you, and the oracles patronized by Junmyeon. Gods and oracles had bounded relationships; only patron oracles could bind with the fortunes of the gods they served. The oracles he typically consulted were three hours away, and to Jongin’s dismay - you would go there by vehicle.

It came to no surprise at all that you were sitting in the backseat next to Junmyeon, Sehun was taking the passenger’s seat and Minseok was driving. The other car was obviously noisier; the rest of the boys jam packed in the larger van, you had to thank Yixing for taking one for the team to drive. Junmyeon was silent for the first few minutes of the car ride, his sitting position a lazy slump as he tapped at any surface his hands could find. It was difficult for you not to notice that he had something on his mind; you were always so used to him telling you whatever he felt out of the blue.

You rested your head upon his chest, looking up at him to see the dazed look on his face. “Are you hoping to get answers?” Your voice muffled against his coat.

He placed his palm over your hair, the curve of your head. You could feel his heart pound in his chest, the way it rose with every inhale and exhale. “I am, but at the same time it worries me that I demand answers.”

“Don’t be afraid,” you reassured breathing him in, he wanted to tell you why he should be. Gods were not indestructible. He only waited in silence, the warmth of your skin on his as you drifted off into slumber.

Where you arrived, you honestly did not expect at all. In the middle of a busy street of a dark and cloudy city was a cupcake shop that stood out in vibrant color. To everyone else that got out of their respective rides, they did not even bat an eyelash at the building.

You thought perhaps that maybe someone was hungry and wanted to stop by.

That was until Junmyeon charged forward, the first to enter and everyone else following behind him. Baekhyun was left to stand next to you, it seemed matters were going to be taken as they traditionally would by Junmyeon’s formalities. “He told me to stay here with you to keep you from going in, something about this being a matter between us?” Baek tried to explain, but you weren’t catching on with this.

“Am I not meant to go inside and find out what the oracles have to say?” You asked, a little bit frustrated and Baekhyun shook his head.

“I take orders and I follow them, I live by code.” He said, making fake cross marks over his heart.

“I clearly remember you telling me something about this body of yours being a mere vessel of yourself,” you said threatening him, “remember when I tried detaching it from your actual form?” The taunt almost immediately worked; Baekhyun suddenly had flashbacks of the time you were drunk and he angered you when you worked together - you had scarily tried to use your telekinesis on his human form. Poor guy.

It was no hard job to get him to accompany you inside to find out what was happening. You saw that the inside of the shop was even more elaborate than you imagined: streamers lining up the corners of the ceiling, cabinets lined up with all kinds of candy, display cabinets of goodies, the floor like a chess board of alternating pieces, irregular chairs and tables mixed and matched, but more importantly the red that accented the place. It was a little girl’s wet dream all wrapped into one space.

A small ding welcomed you, a bell system placed by the top of the door frame. “Are we really in the right place?” You asked Baekhyun, realizing now that the rest of the boys were not inside as you were expecting.

“Only as right as you’d think.” Baekhyun squared his vision at you, until a woman approached the two of you in glee.

“How may I help you?” Her hand immediately grasped yours and a stream of visions ran through your mind: the repetitive sound of the bell ringing and different sorts of people coming in and out of this place. It was once a hair salon, a parlor, a travel agency office, and all the other things you could imagine it to be. But it was always the same door, the same bell, and the same kind of greeting.

“You saw the rest of them come inside, I’m sure there’s no need to ask, Yerim.” Baekhyun said and the girl pouted as she let go of your hand, clueless that you knew who she was and what she was.

“She’s a new face, can’t you allow me to be excited? We only ever get to see the same gods all the time, it can get quite boring.” She complained, but walked and signaled for you to follow her. Stopping in front of a whimsically carved door, she looked at the two of you, but mostly Baekhyun. “You know how this works, when she gives the fortune there must be no interruption or the natural balance of the worlds might tip over, okay?” The casual tone bothered you.

Opening the door and letting the two of you inside, you were met by a dead silent room. The first thing you saw were all of the boys’ backs as they faced the elevated flooring but they did not notice as you entered, and you immediately saw the beautiful woman sitting on the largest plush throne, four other thrones in the line-up (much smaller in comparison) two on each of her side - seated with also beautiful women but one seat was vacant (you assumed it was Yerim’s proper seat.)

“Isn’t this a surprise? Joy, tell me this isn’t a surprise.” Her perfectly red stained lips were pointed to a smirk she looked at the woman who sat next to her, but she did not seem to notice your arrival as her eyes fixated on only after she had asked her question. Her voice echoed around the room, you grabbed Baekhyun to allow the two of you to stay a little better hidden behind the curtains; you did not arrive during the correct moment. The tension in the room rubbed off of you and you could partially understand why you were not allowed to go.

He coughed a little awkwardly, an attempt to greet her came out with a nod. “Irene.”

“Have you come to find me again after all these years?” The tone was questionable, but you did not mind it.

Junmyeon stood firmer, setting his feet flatter on the tiled floor. In an act of intimidation, he tried to make it clear that he was in fact the god in the room. “You know why I’m here,” he scoffed, “if you did not, then I wouldn’t be shocked at your incompetence.”

It was her turn to take offense, her tongue clicking at the roof of her mouth. “Yes I do, of course. But it seems that you are in my house, meaning to ask me the questions, for answers you so desperately want.”

“Have you forgotten your place?” Junmyeon was agitated.

“Maybe you forget that only I can give you the

answers you seek.” This meant that she already saw him coming. He sighed in defeat, she already played her pieces correctly. No more words spoken, only knowing glances with the three other oracles who exited the room, you held in your breathing as they left through the same doors you had entered.

“This needs to be settled between the two of us.” Irene spoke and Junmyeon gave go signals for the rest of the boys, he walked up the carpeted steps to her throne as she held her hand out - the oracle was regal, like an ornament dangling from his arm. Even through careful quiet breaths a pang went through your chest; the electricity of the pair just made so much sense to you. So much so you could not help but feel they had matched perfectly, it was jealousy and paranoia brewing somewhere. The two of them disappeared in a blink, leaving behind a trail of fog. Suddenly, you could breathe a little deeper.

Baekhyun pulled you out of the curtains, “that was by far the worst game of hide and seek I have ever played!” He complained, clutching down to catch his own breath. All the boys flocked to the two of you, no words of scolding whatsoever. There were underlying implications to their reactions, but by the way you looked they knew that there was more than being lead on.

“Y/N?” Minseok asked as he noticed your panicked daze.

“Should I not have snuck in?” You had asked all of them, but no one could answer you.

“It wasn’t wrong, but this is not for us to tell. If you want to know then it is really up to you.” The eldest relayed in response, only nods from everybody followed. “If you really want to, I will sneak you in more than you already have.”

Only a few seconds and you found yourself inside a closet with Minseok. There were cracks of light peeking through from the outside, and he put his index finger close to his mouth to tell you not to make a sound.

“You’re in terrible danger.” You could hear her voice, their shadows making blocking the passages of light. It sounded monotone, no conversational tension or emotion like you heard it earlier; she was giving the fortune. “Only two can tip the scales of life, you need to find the hermit for he can tell you how to keep them balanced.” But then her voice started to become distorted, echoes and layers of different octaves made their way out her lips. “She who grazes death can stop him.”

“He is coming.” The oracle fainted, Junmyeon tumbling all the way to catch her on the floor. It did not take long for her to regain her consciousness, her head on his lap as he supported it with his hands. Watching from behind the cracks of the cabinet, you grasped at Minseok’s shoulder, not having a good feeling about this.

She took a hand to his cheek, slowly rising up to place a kiss on Junmyeon’s lips.

You could only panic, the sudden action confirmation of your earlier feelings. Your hands found something behind you to hold on to, and they landed on to a small box.

Out of the height of your emotions, the next few things were out of your control. Suddenly you were taken back in time, it seems it was after the great war. Irene and Junmyeon are always together: you see them strolling hand-in-hand through the remnants of the wreckage, stealing looks in champagne parties with old friends. Then the more intimate memories. Even before the war, when they first met, a god meeting the oracle bound for him - some strange tension. Up until the great war was over, all the times they had spent together, kissing in secret rooms. Through memories you can hear him whisper into her ear, “I can never feel this way ever again,” she giggled, “you and I are bound together.” The way he looked at her was like he had never been more sure about anything more in his life, and then it all tied down together, the box you were holding contained the ring he gave her. An act of material promise of spending eternal life together.

Things had fallen in the cabinet - pushing objects to the door and prying it open, creating a loud sound after your hands were placed accidentally on the box - you managed to destroy the balance of everything else when you had drained yourself trying to get through the visions. This had interrupted their kiss, Junmyeon looking at you in shock.

Jongin could not have come at a better moment, probably waiting through the nets of time. One second you and Minseok were both in a panicked state while hiding in a closet, and the other second the three of you were at some random highway.

You didn’t notice the tears streaming down your face until Minseok took to wiping them away with his sleeves.

It felt like you had been cheated. All promises of being the only one who ever made him feel that way were thrown out as silly words that probably did not mean a thing. The tingling touches and every effort to make your heart burst were now probably a minuscule comparison to her. Now you did not believe him, or the few days you have spent trying to understand him because you felt something. But that was it, it only felt like ‘something.’ You were running back to the same insecurities you thought you had surpassed: you were only a human caught up in this mix. They were souls intertwined, you were no great love.

“Please take me to the mansion, I don’t want to be there when he comes back.” You told the two men, no sadness through your voice the only evidence of shock were the tears streaming down.

There were no if’s and but’s, within a few seconds Jongin brought you back.

—

“I might be overreacting, but at this point, I am not part of this mess and I never should have been.” You explained to the two of them as they sadly watched you pack up your things as you sat down, your powers doing all the work for you. You were definitely already ugly crying; to immediately decide to not want to be somewhere with people you were finally attached to was absurd to anybody else who heard it— but you knew you were out of place here; you were not part of the fortunes, you definitely did not need any more protection, and you knew it would break your heart to look at Junmyeon.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Jongin asked you, you knew they were expecting a ‘no’ as they were kind enough to give no protests when you said that you were going to leave. It’s only been twenty or so minutes, but you were making a race against time in fear that Junmyeon would coax all the other boys to get here faster by using their own abilities instead of taking the cars with them. Luckily, the transporting one was with you.

“Yes, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t care.” You sighed, dragging your arm by your face to catch the tears. “It’s only been a week or so, but I feel like I’ve really bonded with all of you so easily. I hate to do this, but I can’t be comfortable with the idea of being a liability to anyone - let alone being in the same house with somebody who can only look at someone like that the way he did to her. I saw how it was, and I don’t want to hurt myself and force myself to believe he can feel for me more than that. I’m nothing compared to her.”

“Don’t say that.” Minseok pouted.

A shrug left your shoulders. “What else can I when it is blatantly obvious?” You looked at the two of them again, but now much more stern. “Please, let’s just get this over with.”

Before you left, you wanted to take the quickest possible walk you could down the hall. The same one you always found yourself in. The window was open, the same one you all were in when you got here with Junmyeon after deciding to stay.

Light from the moon was casted in, but in the darkest hue you’ve ever seen. As you walked closer, you noticed an animal by the windowsill.

There was a dead bird there, much like the one Sehun had been cradling before. You could not help it, your hands reached to touch it. A small feeling in your gut wanted to make you believe that there was still hope, that it could live, but all you could touch was the cold and it strike a cut through your bones.

All you can suddenly see was black, no sound surrounding you. Just red glowing eyes staring back at you like a void that could strip all the life away from your limbs. “Have you missed me?” It was dark, lifeless, and it numbed you.

Quickly withdrawing back your hands, you felt air being sucked away from the inside of your lungs as your throat dried. You were pulled back into color, everything coming back to you now.

For two years you never thought it would ever happen, but here you were. Your heart was pounding so loudly.

“Shall we go?” Jongin asked, you tried hiding the little jump you made. He scared you.

“Yes.” You nodded, but you felt the cold sweat go down your neck.

Mara was coming, and he was making you know that he was.

#exo fic #junmyeon smut #exo scenario #junmyeon fluff #kim junmyeon #junmyeon angst #junmyeon x reader #junmyeon fic #junmyeon fanfic #junmyeon scenario #suho angst #suho x reader #suho fanfic #suho fic #suho fluff #suho #suho scenarios #suho smut

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namluve · 4 years

Text

chapter 1: soul twins

It seemed like fate was not on either of your sides that night as the shooting star passed right above the both of you when you both unintentionally wished your wish. Fate decided to play a trick.

paring: Min Yoongi x Reader

genre: body swap!AU, rapper Agust D, a lot of crack! and funny moments (lowkey comedy with angst)

warnings: reader not feeling like herself (because of the body swap), self-consciousness, anxiety

word count: 4K

note: one day I thought “what if I woke up in yoongi’s girlfriends body” and this is the result!

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Waking up you felt refreshed as the sun creped through the window. Since you drank quite heavily last night you thought you would wake up with a hangover but, once again, fate was on your side you thought. As you lazily opened your eyes you would not really recognize where you were. It was a bedroom with grey walls and big windows with a balcony. You remembered you had gotten home last night so why were you in someone else’s bedroom? You sat up, panic rushing over you and you heard someone grunt on the other side of the bed.

“What time is it?” The person next to you asked and you looked at him. It was the rapper Agust D. Confused you looked at the clock on the nightstand and replied to him.

“9 am” Grunting he took his arm around your body and pulled you close to him.

“Let’s sleep just a little more” With that you closed your eyes, realizing it was a dream. You thought you saw Min Yoongi at the restaurant last night so that must be the reason you were dreaming of him. He was so warm and comforting you could not help but to scoot closer to him and embrace him. If it was all a dream you could at least get as much out of it as possible, right?

The next time you woke up you found yourself surprised to still be in the same bed, but this time without Min Yoongi. Maybe you went home to someone last night after all? Maybe that person weirdly looked like him? Sitting up you stretched your arms up and let out a yawn. You needed to figure out how to get out of the house as quickly as possible. Your eyes began searching the floor for your clothes, but they were nowhere to be seen. All you had on you was a satin pyjama’s that you did not recognize as you looked down. The more you looked at yourself, the more you didn’t recognize your body. Your arms felt longer, hips smaller, thighs not quite the same. A perfect tan on your body. Your hair was long and black. You had to find a mirror you thought to yourself. Standing up you made your way over to the mirror in the corner in the room. What you saw shocked you. You were not you, although you weirdly recognized the person in front of you, it was not you. Panicked you tried to find any clothes you could change to and get out of here. You heard singing further away, outside of the bedroom and you started panicking even more. Were you going absolutely insane?

Opening the wardrobe, you found a sweater among many dresses and a pair of jeans and decided to go with that. In a drawer you found underwear and you quickly changed into everything. Looking yourself in the mirror one last time, not recognizing your face or body one bit you took a deep breath closing your eyes. Someone must have drugged you last night, right? All you were doing right now was hallucinating. So, all you had to do was get home.

Walking outside the bedroom you got out in a hall, doors left and right and at the end of it was a kitchen where the humming and singing came from. You tried to sneak closer as quiet as possible. As soon as you stepped inside the kitchen you saw him. Min Yoongi, cooking pancakes on the stove. You stayed still for a while just watching him. Confused and slightly panicked he would find you as an intruder or anything. Did he drug you last night? Is he just a part of your hallucination? I mean, you did see him with the bed with you earlier. As he turned around, he smiled at you.

“Good morning sunshine” Looking at him confused you soon realized he was referring to you. Okay you though, at least you were not an uninvited guest.

“Why do you look so blue? Come on, sit down and have some pancakes that I made for us” He went over to you and took your hand in his, dragging you towards the kitchen table. Pulling out a chair for you, you hesitantly sat down on it. If this was a serial killer situation you knew it was best to comply to whatever they wanted you to do. That way, you would live longer. Oh God, what if you were drugged, kidnapped and was about to be killed? On the inside you were panicking, on the outside you gave him a weak smile as he put down a plate of pancakes for you. He sat down in front of you with his own plate and started pouring maple syrup on his pancakes, once he was done you took it and poured some on yours.

“Since when do you eat maple syrup?” He asked and once again you looked at him confused. You always had maple syrup on your pancakes.

“I always have it on my pancakes” He chuckled at your response and dug into his plate.

“I see, we are sarcastic this morning. I did not know that when you said you were changing that it included your diet” Diet? What diet, you thought to yourself. Picking up the fork you started eating the pancakes in silence with him. Would he be mad if you asked any questions? Is that the reason you would be killed? Because you asked way too many questions?

“Bora!” Looking up at him you realized he probably was referring to you, although that was not really your name, so you did not get why he was calling you that. Under your breath you said ‘yes’, afraid that speaking up would get you into any trouble.

“You seem really distracted, is everything alright?” Your eyes meet his and you thought his eyes looked genuine, like he cared about you.

“I’m okay” Replying you realized you did not recognize your own voice. Panicking you thought it was at least worth a shoot to try and get out of the apartment.

“Is it okay if I go?” You asked quietly and he looked at you confused. Fuck, fuck, fuck, you had probably royally fucked up right now.

“Yeah of course, do you have something to take care of before we are supposed to go to the gala?” Barely understanding anything you just nodded in order to get out of the situation and got up from the chair. You saw the door behind you, taking a coat that somewhat looked like one you owned you placed your feet in a pair of sneakers that was on a racket. As you placed your hand on the doorknob you heard his voice behind you.

“Wait!” Turning around you saw Min Yoongi with a scarf that he began to wrap around your neck.

“There!” He said happy with his result and you could not help but to smile back at his gummy smile.

“I must say, I like the new you so far. You look so soft” Placing his hands on your face he pulled you in for a peak kiss on the lips. Shocked you blushed slightly and smiled looking down.

“I’ll be waiting for you when you get home”

“Okay” You replied and opened the door, stepping out of the apartment. What was all of that? You thought as you closed the door. Looking around you saw a few more apartment doors and an elevator on your left. Going over to it you pressed the button and waited for it to come. Thinking about all of it you realized you must have been home at Min Yoongi’s house. Agust D, the rappers house. Why were you there though and why could you not recognize your body or anything really for that matter? Why did he treat you as if you had known each other for years? Nothing made sense. As you stepped into the elevator and pressed the button to get to the entrance you realized you were on the fourth floor of many. Letting out a sigh of relive as the elevator closed you started planning your way back home where everything would be normal again.

Stepping out of the elevator you looked around and it almost looked like a hotel lobby, where the hell were you? The staff around the lobby smiled at you and you smiled back. Once you saw the exist doors you hurried your way over. As you opened them you could hear two voices arguing outside, one sounding familiar to you. When you looked over to your right you saw her, talking to one of the staff members. No, not her, you. You saw yourself talking to one of the staff members. When the two of you locked eyes with each other she pointed at you.

“There she is! Ask her!” The staff member turned around and they both walked over to you.

“I’m sorry to bother you miss. Tallway, do you happen to know this young woman? She claims to know you” The elderly man asks you and you look over to yourself, seeing yourself nodding your head.

“Yes” You replied, and you saw yourself making a hand motion going round and round, as if you were supposed to continue talking. This is weird.

“I know her, she is a friend of mine” You saw yourself smiling at you and the elderly man bowed at you.

“Then I won’t be bothering you ladies, have fun” With that he walked away. You stared at yourself, or should you say, the human that looked identical to you in front of you. She stared right back at you, looking at you up and down.

“I normally would never wear that but it’s kind of cute” She suddenly said, and something clicked inside you. You were inside her body, and she was inside yours. The two of you must have switched souls or something? Fuck, what did they do in the movies? How did the daughter and mother turn back in that one movie?

“We need to talk”

“Obviously” She replied with a duh face, did you really look like that when you pulled that face you thought.

“Let’s go over to the coffee shop nearby” You followed her lead and the two of you began walking over two the other side of the street.

Sitting down at the coffee shop you saw her, or should you say yourself, sit down and get comfortable in the chair opposite of yours. Looking around there were not too many guests at the shop, probably why she suggested it. Although, nobody would probably believe the conversation you were about to have.

“So… obviously… somehow… we have switched body’s” She began saying and you nodded.

“The question is… why? Did you do it?” You scoff as she asks you. Does she think you are some sort of witch or something?

“How would I even do it?!”

“I don’t know, that’s what I am asking you!”

“Okay, this is leading nowhere, what do we do about it?” Puzzled at your question she thinks for a while before answering.

“I think we should pretend to be each other until we figure out how to switch back” Reasonable you thought. The waitress came with the coffee the two of you had ordered and placed the cups in front of you. Both of you said quietly ‘thank you’ before continuing your conversation.

“We need to figure out how to switch back as soon as possible. Maybe this is all just for a day?” You suggested and she nodded. God you hoped this was all just for a day.

“Yes, we don’t know anything about this really and I could not find much research on it either”

“You have been researching this?” Impressed and confused you ask, and she smiles proudly.

“Yep, either this is some sort of day spell, a curse or just the gods messing with us for a laugh” She smiles, or should you say, you smile, and you could not help but to smile back. You did not look that bad, actually, if anything, suddenly you felt kind of cute seeing you in this way. Not in front of a mirror or on a picture but in real life.

“Should we hope this is just a day thing and everything goes back tomorrow?” You ask and she shrugs. All this time you had been watching yourself you realized she reacted so much more than you normally would, and it was weird. Seeing yourself from a whole other angle, in a whole different way. So careless and reactive when all you tried to be was as normal and quiet as possible.

“I guess we could, but we should prepare for the worst, although, I must say, I’m not really hating this” Looking at her questionable you ask ‘why’ and the girl in front of you replied.

“My boyfriend has been a real dick lately, so this is kind of a break from him to me” Suddenly you remember the man you woke up next to today, the one cooking breakfast for you, the none other than Min Yoongi.

“August D is your boyfriend?” Scoffing, she rolled her eyes as if you should have already figured that out before sipping on her coffee and casually asking her next question.

“Yeah, how was he this morning? Oh God, did you do anything to him?!” Eyes wide open you stared at her, waving your hands in front of you in a defending motion.

“How could you even ask that?! Of course I didn’t! I thought he had kidnapped me!” Puzzled, she looked at you and you saw how she made a disgusted face at your statement and you could not help but once again think, did you really look like that?

“Why would a world-famous rapper kidnap a common girl when he has a model, fashion icon, stunning girlfriend next to him?” She was so full of herself you thought. You should have figured some of this out when you saw her wardrobe being the opposite of what you usually wear and the fact that she had picked out the most revealing outfit you had in your wardrobe this morning.

“I don’t know! It’s not like I had figured out we had switched bodies back then!” Having to defend yourself once again, you realized this conversation was not going anywhere. The two of you needed a solid plan. She just said ‘whatever’ before sipping on her coffee and leaning back against her chair.

“Anyway, I’m Bora. Keep that in mind when you are pretending to be me, especially since I have an important dinner later” So that was probably what Yoongi meant by that he would be waiting for me.

“What kind of dinner?” You asked, wanting to know as much as possible about the dinner you had to attend.

“Celebrating Yoongi’s new album, it is released today” Your mouth made an ‘oh’ shape and Bora continued.

“So, we should probably get you a new dress so you, we, look the part” Nodding, the both of you began small talking. Bora told you important things you should know when you are pretending to be her. She hates wine, but loves champagne, so everything even close to wine was a big no. Always extend your hand when meeting new people as they tend to kiss your hand at these events, or shake it, either way, you put it on your mind to extend your hand. For Bora’s friends, always kiss them once on each cheek and hug them lightly. She could not have stressed this enough. Bora did not tightly hug anybody, that even included Yoongi. Hugging was not her thing at all, you had to tell her it was yours. If she meets your friends, she had to hug them as if she had not seen them for a year. Every time. Luckily for Bora, you had made no plans this weekend. Unluckily for you, Bora had made plans the entire weekend and most of next week. She was a clothing making goddess with god knows how many Instagram followers, oh, and you had to update her Instagram. You had to write a cheesy quote and post a picture of yourself and later on, you had to congratulate Yoongi on the album on Instagram. What a day this was going to be.

Shopping dresses turned out to be harder than you thought, especially since Bora had something to say about each and every one of them. To slim, to lose, to long, to short, to shiny, not shiny enough and the list would go on.

“This one looks nice” Looking at yourself in the mirror you saw how the dress hung Bora’s body perfectly. Oh, what you would do to have a body like hers, look this good in a dress.

“Next” Rolling your eyes, you went into the dressing room once again. Trying the next dress Bora had picked. Ten dresses later and you found one Bora was happy with. Finally, you thought but before you could leave the shop you saw Bora taking a dress and walk into the dressing room with it. Confused, you sat and waited for her to come out. The two of you had already agreed you would go alone as she had no invitation to the dinner. When Bora came out of the dressing room all you could do was to stare. She had chosen a simple dark blue dress but somehow it fitted your body perfectly. Never had you ever worn a dress like that.

“I’m so buying this for you, it looks killer” She said as she twirled around in the dress in front of the mirror, looking at every angle of the dress. It was a maxi dress that was cut by the left leg, showing of the leg all the way to the thighs. A v-cut by the neck that showed just enough boobs. This was way too much, you would not let her do that for you.

“You can’t do that” As the words left your mouth she turned around. The dress looked so good.

“I can and I will” She confidently spoke before continuing. “You don’t have any dresses like these at home, trust me, I went though your whole wardrobe”

“You did what”

“Trust me, it’s my treat. You’ll look killer on your next date”

Once the both of you had bought dresses time had passed way to fast and it was time for you to get ready for the party. Bora wrote her own number in your phone once she got to know your password from you. Giving out your phone to her just like that gave you anxiety you never even knew you could feel. In the meantime, Bora was just Bora. Confident, unbothered by every obstacle the two of you faced, like if you were supposed to switch phones or not. If this was only for a day you had to hold out. Had to make it. Maybe it was all a test for you. To step up and see the world of the richest people, well you could at least hope. Hope that tomorrow you would wake up in your bed. Safe and sound doing your laundry in the afternoon.

“Are we going with warm or cold tones today?” Bora’s makeup artist woke you up from your thoughts.

“Warm please” She nodded and continued putting makeup on your face. It was calming, nice to have someone do your makeup. Once she was done with your makeup and hair, your anxiety started to kick in. What if you could not fool everyone? What if people would notice? Even if they did, Bora assured you that they would believe it is just the alcohol talking and you tried your best to try and remember that. If anything, they would just believe she is drunk. After taking pictures and sending them to Bora, she picked out the one she liked the most and you posted it, hundreds of likes coming in just after a few seconds, you understood why she had notifications turned off on her phone. As you took a deep breath you heard her phone chime. Weird, she did not have any social media notifications on. Unlocking her phone, you saw that it was a text from Yoongi.

[03:21 PM] Mini Yoon ❤️

- Picking u up in 20

So, you had twenty minutes to spare before Yoongi would pick you up. Might as well listen to his new album so you would not make a fool of yourself. Bora probably heard it about a hundred times by now. Opening up Spotify on Boras phone and putting in some earphones you searched for Agust D’s name and his new album popped up immediately. It had seven tracks and you listened to each and everyone of them, the title track really sticking with you. You loved the low beat in the beginning turning into a faster one in the first verse when Yoongi started rapping even faster than on his previous tracks. Of course, you had listened to his songs before. You liked his music and one of your friends absolutely adored him. This whole album was going to be so successful. You could feel it. A man knocked on your door, announcing your ride to the dinner was here and you walked out of Yoongi’s apartment, taking the elevator to the bottom floor. As you walked out of the apartment complex that looked like a hotel you saw a black car parked at front with a driver with toned windows at the back. The man who had picked you up from the room opened one of the backseat doors and you smiled, bowing slightly at him. Showing your gratitude before getting in. To your disappointment, Yoongi was not in the backseat with you. He was nowhere to be seen and you realized he was probably already at the dinner. So much for waiting for me, you thought. As the car started you heard your phone chime.

[03:48 PM] Soul Twin 🌙

- You’ll do great, I believe in you!

Laughing at the non-suspicious name you and Bora had picked out for each other you smiled at Bora’s reassuring text. She believed in you, now all you had to do was believe in you too.

The car ride over to the dinner was way to short, how were you supposed to collect your thoughts if you only had fifteen minutes to do so? As you stepped out of the car you realized Bora had forgotten to mention the freaking red carpet you had to walk on into the dinner. Cameras was suddenly on you everywhere, shouting her name. Bora look here! Bora, Bora! How does it all feel? BORA! Trying to smile and wave for a bit, working your way over the carpet, desperately trying not to fall because Bora had to choose the hardest freaking high heels to walk in ever. Placing a big fake smile on your face as you do so you drop it immediately the second you enter the fancy building, looking like an expensive ballroom house. Letting out a breath you did not even know you held, you gladly accepted a glass of champagne from the tray of alcohol that was being presented to you. The waitress smiling at you as you took a sip and you smiled back at her before she left into the crowd. As you looked right in front of you, you saw him. In a black casual suit, his hair as white as his smile as he smiled and waved for you to come over. Fuck, you thought. You had almost forgot you had to spend the evening with Yoongi. Stunning, handsome Yoongi who was waving you over to come and join the conversation he was having. Fuck it, finishing your glass of champagne in one go you started to walk over to Yoongi. You just had to make it through the night, right?

#yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #my writing #I have no update schedule and just came to terms with that #iawy

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monards · 2 months

Note

Evil mode activated 😈😈

Also since we really don't know how Albedo's changed over time... I like to think that he does age,,, just much slower... So eventually Rhine would have to watch her son grow older than her and then die:)

The mean wolf told me to give her abandonment issues and then take everyone away from her

AUGHHUHASUDHOOOOOOPOJAIPC JSPPPP III DONNTNTN KNOW HOW OT VOICE MY CRIES THOROUGH TEXT. BUT THEY ARE THERE. AUHGUOASUOOOOOOOOOOOO THHHE WORST PART ABOUT THIS IS THAT IT'S MORE OR LESS CANON. FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

OUhghhhh... I tthink it's always gonna be important to me how it's such an essential part in a lot of stories for character's to watch their parents grow up as they do... and them becoming 'stronger' then them,, (like being taller, keener, more mentally well-kept) but the idea of albedo getting that for such a small bit of time.. before eventually devolving again (as comes with age). Dear god.

Assuming Albedo's been gone for a decent margin of time, that'd mean he would've grown a decent amount... buuttt that'd also mean whenever he meets Rhine she's just gonna be. the same. it reminds me of how you never notice your parents age as you grow upp,, and it's sort of a major part of you to realize that they *have* changed, when you're older. but albedo will never get that moment. because rhine's always gonna be the sameee..... OUGH I will always be sick to the trope of children finally being taller than their parents if anybody can tell where that fixation came from ill give you a sticker annnd the worst part about this is that if albedo goes by basic aging conventions, he would technically be taller then her at some point, but then he'd start shrinking again. meaning one day he'd be shorter than her again . And oh my god would that be so fucked up.

i think one of the worst parts about this is the fact that Rhinedottir (if we're going by whatever hoyo's more likely to pull) would've been a young women during the cataclysm. Meaning she'd be a young women now. And Albedo's a youngman. Meaning Albedo would be (physically) more or less his mother's age. Ough hh ghp ijIAIGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I. I am starting to understand why Rhine coped shockingly well with all her sons dying by murder. I too would be incapacitated by grief if my son died by growing OLDER than me and dying naturally, then if it were for a reason largely out of my hands. oh my god.

anon. i hope you enjoy my tears.

#fuckufckkfuckkfuckffufcyJKFUCK #i need somebody to shoot me.#(while reading this i thought about it and my magnolia & rhine parallels. and threw up.)#AUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #AUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #AUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #THEHHH HORRRORS #rhine & albedo #crepe hall of fame #crepe hall of angst #rhinedottir #rhine hcs #albedo #rhine

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inevitably-johnlocked · 5 years

Note

got any good domestic johnlock fic recs??

Hi Nonny!

YES!! I certainly do! I love domestic Johnlock! Done lots of lists in the past, so check out the additional lists, and I’ll update those lists with these latest ones I’ve sorted!

DOMESTIC JOHNLOCK Pt. 4

See also:

Platonics and Domestics

Platonics & Domestics Pt 2 / Hugs, Cuddles & Kisses Pt. 3 / Tooth-Rotting Fluff Pt. 4 / Love Confessions, Slow Burn & Dev. Rel. Pt. 2 / Established Relationship Pt. 3

Platonics / Bromance / Friendship Pt. 3

When Morning Comes by Youarethelightoftheworld (T, 423 w. || Christmas Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Lazy Mornings/Morning After, Fluff and Angst, Sleepy Cuddles, Domestic Fluff, Cuddling / Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort) – “Sherlock,” says John solemnly, “I’m not sure we can go anywhere today.”

Promises Kept by grannysknitting (K+, 844 w. || John POV, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship / Pre-Slash, Sherlock’s Violin, Worried Sherlock, John Whump, Post-TGG) – When they were in hospital, Sherlock made a promise to himself. Now he’s keeping it. Set after ’Polygamous Marriage’ but before ’Back in the Saddle’

Realisation by Susie.Donym (K+, 957 w. || Sally POV, Pre-Slash / Friendship, Humour) – It takes her a while but Sally finally makes a huge realisation.

Like Any Other Day by wearitcounts (T, 1,145 w. || Fluff, John’s Birthday, John Loves Sherlock, Sweet / Thoughtful Sherlock) – Just when John thought Sherlock couldn’t get any more strange…

Together is What we Have, Together Protects Us by Phantom of the Black Pearl (K+, 1,566 w. || Post-TRF, Friendship / Platonic or Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Sherlock, Worried Sherlock, Slice of Life) – After a case one evening in the flat Sherlock voices a concern that causes the pair to consider why they’ve chosen to stick together after all that’s happened.

Like Euphoria and Scotch by FinAmour (M, 1,856 w. || Five and One, Alchohol / Drinking, POV Second Person Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock’s Imagination, Armchair Sex, Fluff, Happy Ending) – 5 different ways it all could have gone + the one way it actually works itself out.

One in Ten Thousand by Blind Author (K+, 1,856 w. || Post-TGG, Friendship / Pre-Slash, Discussions of Violence, Worried then Curious Sherlock, Scars/John’s Bullet Wound, Medical Anomolies) – John seems to have unusual mobility for a shoulder wound…

The Adventure of the Mysterious Appearance of Tissues by Gwen’s Blue Box (K+, 1,910 w. || Fluff, Humour, Sick John, Caring Sherlock, Hurt/Comfort) – In which there is a case, John has caught a cold and is not interested in investigating, Mrs Hudson is away and Sherlock does the shopping.

The Case of the Missing Blogger by nicknack22 (K, 2,147 w. || Fluff, Humour, Friendship, Worried / Anxious Sherlock) – Alternately titled, The Case of the Oblivious Consulting Detective. In which Sherlock comes out of his mind palace to discover John missing. 221B does not fair well as a result.

Risotto by Richefic (K+, 2,153 w. || Friendship, Angst, Misunderstandings, Apologies) – The first time that John cooks dinner for Sherlock is almost the last. Fortunately, Sherlock is really quite observant. Inspired by John’s reference in “The Great Game” to there being some leftover risotto in the fridge.

The Many Faces of Concern by sdrawkcabemdaer5 (K+, 2,473 w. || Friendship, Angsty Fluff, John Whump, Mildly Clueless Sherlock) – John is injured on a case, leading to some surprising reactions and discoveries about their friendship.

Bored Games by patster223 (K+, 2,769 w. || Cluedo / Board Games, Friendship, Humour) – Sherlock is bored and John decides that they should play Cluedo. In retrospect, it was a truly awful decision.

The Rational Machine by Solstice Zero (K, 2,924 w. || Hurt / Comfort, Malnourishment / Fainting, Doctor / Minder John) – Sherlock passes out. John muses on the reasons why. Containing an absorbing case, two bags of shopping, and a few apples.

On a Sunday Morning by SD_Ryan (G, 3,136 w. || Fluff, First Kiss, Obsessive Sherlock, Pining Sherlock) – Sherlock has a little problem. He can’t stop obsessing about John Watson. {{Note to Self: ‘Cheese Tease’}}

Wish I Was In Heaven Sitting Down by standbygo (M, 3,282 w. || Post-S4, Five Plus One, Missing Scenes, Parenthood, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt/Comfort, Declarations of Love, Fluff, Food, John Whump) – Five times when Sherlock and John ate together, and one time they didn’t. A history of the boys, in food.

The Bee Charmer by dreadpiratewatson (M, 3,314 w. || Est. Rel., Captain / Soldier John, Idiots in Love, Domestics, John in the Army) – Greg goes to 221B to check up on Sherlock after a strange phone call pulls him away from an important case, and is stunned to find himself in front of a gun brandishing soldier with a sleeping Sherlock on his chest. John Watson is a doctor, a war hero, a husband, and the only one in the world who can soften Sherlock’s heart.

Bored Games by SparksMayFly (K, 3,492 w. || Humour, Friendship, Cluedo / Board Games, Big Brother Mycroft) – Sherlock asks if he can take Reverend Green in for interrogation. John explains that’s not how the game works.

Every Step of the Way by Shi_Toyu (G, 3,795 w. || Car Accidents, John Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Slash, Caretaker Sherlock) – When John is injured on a case, Sherlock can’t forgive himself. Everyone expects him to give up on his flatmate and get bored, but he’ll prove them all wrong by sticking with him…every step of the way.

Five Times John Cooked Something with Peas and One First Kiss by 221b_careful_what_you_wish_for (T, 3,915 w. || 5 and Ones, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Cooking / Food, Sick Sherlock, Music, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss) – After John cooks five dinners that slowly reveal their hunger for each other, Sherlock and John finally share a first kiss.

Jukebox by standbygo (T, 3,990 w. || Fluff, Singing/Music, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Hurt/Comfort, Humour, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss) – After the music halls of Sherlock’s mind palace get damaged by accident, John learns that Sherlock never forgets a song. Even the ones he’d rather forget. But the random singalong brings some unexpected benefits.

No Good Without You by textsandscones (T, 4,021 w. || Case Fic, Sherlock’s Violin, Dancing, Soppy Fluff) – A diverting new case surrounding musicians and stolen instruments captures Sherlock’s attention, the consequences of which lead both detective and doctor to see one another in a different light. Part 1 of Prompt Fills

Breakfast, acronyms and brotherhood by Rose de Sharon (K+, 4,074 w. || TBB Fic, Friendship/Bromance, Hurt/Comfort, Protective John, Fluff) – Set after The Blind Banker: my take of Sherlock and John’s conversation over breakfast. S/J friendship, bromance, no slash.

The Care and Keeping of Your Mad Genius by Janieshi (T, 4,553 w. || Post-TGG, Friendship, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Light Humour/Teasing, Alternating POV, Cranky Sherlock) – If he hadn’t been so focused on holding the bastard still, John would have laughed aloud. This maniac really thought John was the pet in this dynamic?

Welcome Home, John by slashscribe (G, 5,504 w. || Post-S3, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Awkwardness, Stabbed Sherlock, Protective Sherlock, Panic Attack (Sherlock), Self Esteem Issues, Love Confessions, First Kiss) – When John moves back to 221B, he thinks he’s the broken one, but after a while, it becomes clear that he might not be correct.

Of Razors, Pipes, Red Notebooks and Rugby Jerseys, Or: Sherlock Doesn’t Like His Doctors Clean Shaven by allonsys_girl (E, 7,313 w. || Est. Rel., PWP / Porn With Feelings, John’s Beard / Beard Kink, Roleplay, Love Declarations, Banter, Rimming, Anal, Domestic Fluff / Bliss, Idiots in Love, Emotional Lovemaking, Pet Names, Obsessive Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Bottomlock, Cranky Sherlock) – John grows a beard. Sherlock really likes it. Part 1 of Consulting Husbands

On Favors and Keeping Score by Ewebie (G, 7,622 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Sick Fic, Fluff, John Whump) – John woke up to the horribly unpleasant sound of his clock alarm. Which meant he’d slept through his phone’s alarm. And for a moment he glared blearily at the noisemaker before smacking at it with his palm. Ugh, he felt like rubbish. The back of his throat was burning with the irritation that heralded a proper dose, his nose was threatening to drip every few seconds, and he had the uncomfortable flush that normally suggested a fever. Nothing high, just uncomfortable. Nothing deadly, just irritating. Nothing worth calling in sick with, just a full day of discomfort in the face of other people’s discomfort. It was going to be a day where he was forced to bite his tongue from telling people off. “You’re not as sick as I am, so off you pop.” Part 7 of Tumblr Shorts

Speak My Language by Itsallfine (T, 7,479 w. || Thanksgiving, Love Languages, Love Confessions, First Kiss) – When Mrs. Hudson introduces John and Sherlock to the concept of the five love languages, Sherlock descends into a dark mood and John’s curiosity gets the better of him. What is Sherlock’s love language, and why does the whole concept set him so on edge? Part 1 of A Holiday Triptych

The Name Game by ItsClydeBitches221B (K, 8,958 w. || Humour, Family, Platonics / Friendship, Sort-of Parentlock, John/Mary, Mary is Nice, Five and Ones, Baby Watson, Mycroft Loves Baby Watson) – The names that baby girl Watson comes up with for her extended family. Or: how everyone—Watsons, Holmes, and others alike— just learned to give up and embrace their weirdness.

How To Give Your Boyfriend Who Doesn’t Know He’s Your Boyfriend the Best Valentine’s Day Ever byunicornpoe (T, 9,832 w. || Valentine’s Day, Fluff and Crack, Soft Sherlock, POV Sherlock) – Sherlock is pretty sure that John Watson is his boyfriend. He’s also pretty sure that John doesn’t know it. But with a little help from a magazine, some friends, three crepes, five dates, one awesome CD, and a stalker van, John is bound to realize just in time for Valentine’s Day.

A Is For Aftermath by ElvendorkInfinity (T, 10,567 w. || Injury / Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship/Pre-Slash/Bromance/Platonics, Hallucinations, Introspection, Insecure / Worried John, Big Brother Mycroft, Alternating POV, Anxious Sherlock, Self-Deprecating, Mildly Possessive Sherlock, 3G Moment) – John is still hallucinating, Sherlock cannot sleep, and Lestrade has a new case for them. But will life at 221B ever be able to return to normal? Epilogue to M is for Moriarty.

Shuteye Shenanigans by Ayakae (K+, 13,263 w. || Post-TRF, Friendship / Epic Bromance, John’s Nightmares, Angsty Fluff, Bed Sharing, Humour, Cuddles, Taking Care of Each Other, Domestics) – John Watson has never slept with Sherlock Holmes. Never ever ever. And never will, thank you very much. Well, there was that one time, but John didn’t count that. It was completely different, just like the second time it happened. And the third. And the fourth. Epic bromance, but it can be read as pre-slash if you wish.

Hope for Heroes by Richefic (K+, 16,887 w. || Post-TGG Fic, Introspection / Flashbacks, Friendship/Epic Bromance, Hurt/Comfort, Worried/Anxious Sherlock, Sherlock Admires John, BAMF John, John Deduces, Fancy Party, John’s Self Esteem, Domestics) – In the final moments of “The Great Game” Holmes hopes he will have the chance to tell his flatmate that he was wrong. Heroes do exist after all and the one in front of him is called Dr John Watson.

Through the Clouds by Mazarin221b (E, 20,004 w. || Retirement, Sussex, Bees, Home Improvement, First Time, Romance) – Sherlock takes a remarkably early retirement at 47, and convinces John that a change of pace would do them both good. They buy an old cottage on the South Downs, and exchange their nonstop life in Baker Street for quiet contemplation, bee studies, and book writing. They might go completely insane, but sometimes it takes stepping outside of the life you’re living to find the life you want. Part 1 of Through The Clouds

Chaperones by MissDavis (T, 34,114 w. || 11 Years Post-S4, Fake Relationship, Parentlock, Disney World, Bed / Room Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, First Kiss, Obsessive Sherlock, Insecure John) – Right. Of course. Everyone assumed they were a couple and no one would question it. John put his elbows up on the table so he could rest his head in his hands. “You want to pretend to be a couple so we can chaperone a trip to Disney World with Rosie’s class and you won’t have to share a room with a stranger?” “Exactly.” Sherlock beamed at him. “Don’t worry about the cost. The Birmingham case last month paid more than enough to cover expenses for all three of us.”

The Book of Silence by SilentAuror (E, 60,056 w. || S4 Fix It / Post S4, Virgin Sherlock, Rosie / Parentlock, Domesticity, Fluff, Praise Kink, Sex Toys, First Person POV) – As spring blooms in London, John and Sherlock begin to take new cases and cautiously negotiate this new phase of life with John living at Baker Street again. Despite how well it’s all going, John struggles to forgive himself for the way he treated Sherlock following Mary’s death as well as trying to figure out how to finally put his long-time feelings for Sherlock into words. Part 1 of The Book of Silence/Rosa Felicia

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #domestic johnlock #my fic recs #Anonymous #fic rec sunday #long post

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makeste · 5 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 169: Shut Up and Dance

Previously on BnHA: Aoyama creeped on Deku in the middle of the fucking night. A petrified Deku went to take a closer look only to find that Aoyama had left a weird “I KNOW~~” message spelled out on his balcony with fucking cheese. The next day in Cementoss’s class the kids resumed working on special moves. Deku got all brooding and thought about how he couldn’t beat Overhaul even with his absolute max of 20%. Then Aoyama got his attention and carved a possibly-suspicious-or-maybe-just-weird French message into a chunk of rock with his navel laser before collapsing in pain. Deku took Aoyama to rest for a bit and asked him what the cheese message meant. Aoyama said that Deku was like him -- someone who possessed a quirk that didn’t really suit his body. Aoyama himself is unable to control his navel laser without the aid of his support belt. He saw Deku as a kindred spirit and was trying to cheer him up since he knew he was starting to feel frustrated. And thus a new sparkly bond of friendship was born.

Today on BnHA: The kids randomly discuss how great Mina is at dancing and how great Jirou is at music stuff. Later that day, in a pure coincidence, Aizawa announces the upcoming cultural festival. Despite the recent string of villain attacks, the school has decided to go ahead with it as a way to hopefully help the stressed-out student body. 1-A gets to work determining what program their class will do, with people suggesting everything from petting zoos to cafes to “a banquet for students of darkness.” Momo and Iida narrow down everyone’s ridiculous suggestions, but they’re unable to settle on a final program, and Aizawa gives them one day to figure it out. That evening the kids gather in the fanfic dorms and Iida says they should come up with something that will help the other students de-stress. Todoroki of all people suggests that they host a dance party with live music. Jirou is a bit nervous about performing in front of everyone, but with her classmates’ support she agrees to do it. Let the Band AU arc begin.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’ve read up through chapter 195 now, so any ETAs will reflect that.)

OH MY GOD YOU GUYS LOOK AT THIS!?!?

THIS IS MY FAVORITE COLOR PAGE EVER OMG

holy shit, I fucking love it. the colors! the (possibly unintentional) Wicked reference! MY LEADING LADY OCHAKO

and it looks like she’s wearing some of Mei’s gear. are we going to see any of these upgrades in her actual costume, or is this all just for the sake of a pretty cover? ah well, either way I love it

AND!!!

CULTURE FESTIVAL OMGGGGGG

lord I can’t even begin to imagine what a U.A. culture festival might be like. somehow I can’t quite picture them doing the typical cafe theme lol

oh my god you guys

MINA BREAKDANCING.

you guys. ever since she got a bunch of bullies to dance with her in the middle of Kirishima’s flashback I’ve been wanting more of this lol

Deku is analyzing her moves, and it’s only just now occurred to me that this might be part of a new technique of hers and not just her spontaneously breaking out into a dance battle in the middle of the locker room

(ETA: nope just dancing. Mina is the best you guys)

lol now Deku says he wants to try and Mina’s volunteering to show him!

YESSSSSSSSS

NOW GET IIDA. HE NEEDS TO BE IN ON THIS. OH MY GOD. YOU GUYS. IT’S HAPPENINGGGGG

(ETA: this arc is a gift in so many ways)

oh hey Kaminari is casually hyping up Jirou’s hobby without any prompting!

is he trying to embarrass her or does he genuinely think it’s cool? OR MAYBE BOTH. WHY NOT. I REALLY DO SHIP THE SHIT OUT OF THIS DAMN TRIO NOW, DON’T I

he’s saying that her bedroom looked like “a music store” that one time they all went to see it

and he looks genuinely impressed, so I think it’s not teasing at all and he does in fact really think it’s cool

he says she must be a music pro and he’s asking how often she practices

and she’s getting all blushy and threatening him with one of her earjacks lol

he seems confused d’aww

(ETA: nice little bit with Kouda here which is followed up on later when he encourages her to perform and says it’s a skill well suited for a hero. I adore this sweet little friendship they have since taking that final exam together.)

she’s just shy, the way that some people are about the parts of themselves that are really personal. that means it’s really important to her and she’s maybe not fully ready to share it just yet

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

SO I HEARD

the class is losing their minds

IS IT SO FUCKING WRONG TO HAVE AT LEAST ONE NORMAL SCHOOL THING JESUS CHRIST. WE JUST SAT THROUGH FORTY CHAPTERS OF ANGST AND CHILD TORTURE. LET ME HAVE THIS, CHILDREN

AIZAWA SHOUTA DID YOU REALLY ACTUALLY ADOPT THIS LITTLE GIRL OMG. PLEASE SAY YES. OMGGGGG

take her to the festival. let her come visit. omg. I will die of joy if that happens

(ETA: I did, in fact, die of joy)

so now the class is trying to figure out what to do

Kirishima is asking if it’s really okay “for us to be so carefree” at this particular juncture

Kiri were you not listening to a word I just fucking said. YES. y’all need to fucking relax for once in your damn lives

Kaminari is SHOCKED and is all “Kirishima you’ve changed, huh?”

but Kiri says it’s a valid concern though with all the villains running amok right now

Aizawa says that’s a fair point, but U.A. doesn’t revolve solely around the department of heroics

look at this Department of Management asshole acting like he’s going to get as big of a role in the series as Shinsou or Mei. haha you wish buddy

Aizawa says that this year’s festival will be made less public though, and will only occur within the school

well, good. honestly if y’all tried to pull more shit like the sports festival again at this juncture I would be raising some eyebrows, believe me

so they’re going to be deciding on their theme today! yaaaaay omgg

I’m going to take a wild guess here and predict that it will be something music related. since we had breakdancing Mina and music prodigy Jirou earlier. and also I’m really going to be needing that dancing Iida, you guys. I’m not kidding. we need to get on that stat

so finally Iida is taking charge, and tbh he was being remarkably restrained up till this point because I was expecting him to do this much earlier

he’s telling everyone to raise their hands if they have a suggestion

this class is full of passion

naturally the first suggestion is of course the classic

maybe if this was EVERY ANIME EVER. but this is BnHA! we can do better guys, come on!!

and we’ll just ignore Mineta

Ochako is suggesting a mochi shop! oh! I’m remembering that new years illustration now and I would love that tbh. but I don’t think that’s what we’re gonna end up with

look at all of these other ideas though

I love the idea of crepes and I’m already sad that they won’t end up going with that

Kouda’s idea is also amazing. and Kiri’s is super original

and Tokoyami’s I first read as “banquet of students” and I thought, that’s odd. I know he’s goth but I didn’t think he’d be out here suggesting cannibalism

but based on Kami’s stare, yeah, I’m pretty sure we’re gonna end up doing the music thing. CLASS 1-A DISCO. U.A. RAVE. AW YIHHH

wow

can you guys pick out which suggestion was Bakugou’s. it’s pretty easy tbh. study hall duhhhhhh

I actually love that the ideas we didn’t actually see can be so easily traced back to their originators. Deku’s hero quiz. Shouto’s soba house. Tsuyu’s “frog music chorus”, whatever that is. Ojiro’s martial arts performance. and so forth

Momo is now ruthlessly putting an end to the charade of diplomacy and erasing the ones that are “inappropriate or unrealistic” and “the ones that I don’t really understand” lmao

now the kids are getting back at the two reps by shooting down their own suggestions

and she’s combining the food themes into one, over Satou and Shouto’s protests that soba and crepes would “clash”

now things are getting out of hand

aaand the bell is ringing

Aizawa’s walking out and telling them all to make a decision by tomorrow morning

omg

oh damn

so now it’s nighttime in the fanfic dorms and 40-year-old Iida Tenya is in his relaxed business casual clothes watching youtube videos

I guess the rest of the gang must be here even though we’re not seeing them yet, because there are speech bubbles talking

I swear to god that boy really does go to bed at eight fucking pm every damn night. but why, though?? does he lie awake broodingly into the wee hours of the morning? does he go to bed early in order to wake up at the asscrack of dawn to work out? or does he just need the extra sleep because he’s a growing boy who runs at full steam shouting and blowing things up all day long and it’s just exhausting to be him? like, all three of these seem plausible to me lol

and then of course there’s the beloved fandom headcanon of him having PTSD and dealing with lots of nightmares too, and while we have really seen nothing in canon to hint at that, I’m obviously not going to dismiss any theory with that much Bakugou angst potential completely out of hand lol

but I think it’s probably the second and third one mostly tbh

as for the intern group, are they taking supplementary classes to make up for what they missed while they were out interning? that really is a lot of work, huh. no wonder the school decided to put an end to those for now

anyway, so Iida says that now that he’s had more time to think about it, he thinks they should come up with a theme that would assist the other departments in letting off some steam since they’re stressed out

that’s actually so thoughtful and pure

so Momo (at least I think it’s her?) is saying that in that case, they shouldn’t bother with a food theme since the U.A. kids are already accustomed to Lunch Rush’s food and it’s really hard to top that

so now they’ve narrowed it down to just a few options

they’re shooting down the petting zoo as “unsanitary”, wow. wow guys. so you don’t think that getting a bunch of cute baby animals for everyone to pet would help them to de-stress, huh. kay. I see how it is

oh my god

of all the people to end up suggesting this idea, he’s honestly the last person I would have expected

YESSSSSS U.A. UP IN THE CLUB

why is he the cutesttttt

LMAO

IT’S NOT LIKE THAT BUT I LOVE THE WAY YOUR MIND WORKS SUGAR MAN

oh my god. I will take this thought bubble of Bakugou and Todo getting lit in the club and I will keep it in my heart forever

Sero is objecting that it’ll be stressful (for them), but Mina says she can teach them all how to dance

LMAO AGAIN

yes look at him he has clearly mastered it

Mineta is now stepping in and saying that if they’re gonna turn class 1-A into New York’s Hottest Club then they’re gonna need some sick beats

AND NOW EVERYONE IS STARING AT YOU KNOW WHO

BRITNEY, BITCH

lol she’s going red again and is all “uh, what?”

Hagakure’s jumping in with the encouragement!

YESSSS YOU CAN DO IT JIROU YOU ROCK

but she’s getting all shy again and says it’s just a hobby

and now Kaminari’s having a flash of insight!

COME ON KAMI THIS IS YOUR MOMENT

YESSSS

god I ship it. he’s just so genuinely nice and encouraging. class A’s dumbest, sweetest boy

and now Kouda is also running over and says that it’s a skill that can put a smile on people’s faces and for that reason he does think it’s heroic

AND NOW HER GIRLFRIEND MOMO IS STEPPING IN PROTECTIVELY AND TELLING THEM THAT’S VERY NICE OF THEM, BUT AT THE END OF THE DAY IT’S JIROU’S DECISION

god this chapter is MomoJirouKami heaven and I’m on cloud fucking nine

YAAAAAY SHE’S GONNA DO IT

not if you don’t want to, I guess? though ngl that would be amazing

so with that, class A’s program is decided!

um. is this supposed to be important to the plot? who tf is this

(ETA: lol it both is and it isn’t. it’s relevant to the arc, but this arc is probably the least plot relevant in the series. though that doesn’t mean it’s not a complete and utter delight)

anyway! WHOOO HOOOO, SHUT UP AND DANCE WITH ME

I have no idea which bonus page goes with this chapter lol. so I’m just gonna skip it for now

#bnha #boku no hero academia #ashido mina #jirou kyouka #kaminari denki #yaoyorozu momo #iida tenya #class 1-A #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #out of all the things I am looking forward to in season 4 #class 1-A's live is probably at the top of the list #beating out even the fast and the furious #words can't express how much I am dying to see this animated #this is what's gonna sustain me throughout 2019

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thorne93 · 6 years

Text

It Was Written In Song (Part 6)

Prompt: (from request) Reader is a singer, who happens to be friends with Tony Stark. One night, she gains inspiration from someone she never expected to get it from – Loki.

Word Count: 1337

Warnings: language, dashes of angst throughout the fic

Notes: Request from @abigailredgrave. Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo… all rights to songs used belong to Twenty-One Pilots

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

London, Paris, Auckland New Zealand, New Orleans, Tokyo, and Berlin. Six cities. Endless memories. Three months of nothing but discovering the world together.

If there was paradise, or heaven, this was it. Touring the world with Loki, showing someone who knew nothing about Earth everything. You learned along the way too, going to museums, learning about historians, artists, writers, poets, politicians. Loki peppered you with questions wherever you went, and you answered to the best of your ability. What you couldn’t answer, you googled or asked guides.

He kept you warm by offering you his coat in drizzling London. Atop a restaurant in Paris, you two shared crepes, overlooking the city, then taking it in at night. You showed him cemeteries and how death, as well as life, was celebrated in New Orleans. Berlin offered its Brandenburg Gate to you, which reminded Loki of home in a way, with its magnificence. Scuba diving in Auckland felt like an underwater oasis. Tokyo was the most strange to Loki, but he still enjoyed it, mainly the food. Part of it was awful, driving around the city with so many potholes. It made you partially angry.

You’d been to most of the cities before, but you very rarely ever got out and experienced them because you didn’t want to be alone. Now that you had Loki, it was amazing. Some of the time you were imparting your knowledge on him, the other times, the two of you were learning something together for the first time and it felt like the two of you had gotten closer than ever before.

By now you even slept in the same hotel room, crashing on separate beds because you stayed up late talking so much. He loved to watch you write lyrics or songs when the mood struck, sometimes he even helped rearrange a few words here or there or offer a different word. You loved having him nearby for inspiration.

You were the artist, he was your muse.

Before you were ready to say goodbye, the tour was over. This was it, it was the end of the line. You offered Loki to tour with you, but past that, there wasn’t much you two could do. You didn’t live near New York so you couldn’t see him all that often and you weren’t sure if you could or should invite him to your home city.

So now, you had to part ways, and it was killing you. Your last night in your last city.

“What will you do next?” Loki asked as the two of you walked the brightly lit streets of Tokyo.

“Record, work on my next album. My last album released almost three years ago so it’s time to get my material out there.”

“You won’t take a break?”

You shook your head and slightly laughed. “Why would I? I have so many ideas, I feel so inspired…” you said, leaving it vague so he would have no idea half the songs in filling up your notebook were about him right now. About experiences together, about the fear of losing him, about the budding friendship.

About falling in love with him…

“That’s a wonderful idea, then,” he said.

“And you? What will you do?” you wondered.

“Me? I… don’t know. I suppose I’ll join Thor back at the Avengers compound, help him with managing the Asgardians. Possibly train. I believe Stark wants me to join the team, help fight crime, be a hero,” he said, rolling his eyes, pretending to hate the idea.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” you beamed.

“You think I’m cut out for the job?” he asked.

“I think you were born to help the world,” you simply stated, trying to hide your blush as you walked.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he commented.

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

Four months into recording and life was upside down, to say the least.

Recording was good, you had tons and tons of fantastic material that the band and producers could work with for you all to build hit after hit. The music side of your life was fantastic.

But since you and Loki parted ways at the airport, this all felt so empty. What was an artist without her muse? The lyrics were there, the melody was there, but the heart, the soul… it just wasn’t in it. The songs that had nothing to do with Loki were phenomenal, over the top. It was real quality work.

Yet, if Loki was the star of the piece, you just couldn’t get in the headspace to fill the void that was inside you. Even with nightly Skype video chats and daily texts, it wasn’t enough. You wanted to see him when you went to sleep, wake up to him. Tease him about his extensively long morning routine to get ready. Even let him hypocritically tease you about owning too much leather. Hearing his laugh, seeing the way his face lit up and his eyes sparkled at the world, watching as he gazed at you while you worked -- that’s what you missed, that’s what you needed. It’s almost as if his face itself were a song.

You had no idea if he felt the same though. You were madly, deeply in love with this man, and you were sure he felt that you were only a friend. Otherwise he would’ve made a move, right?

Maybe you could gear your heartbreak towards your music, you thought. Everyone loves a good heartbreak song, right? But you didn’t want heartbreak, you wanted life… You wanted love… You wanted Loki.

It was late one day and you all had been trying to record a song, a non-Loki related song and it was going decently, but you couldn't get quite the right pitch you wanted, so you were running it over and over.

“Okay, Burt, let’s run it again, from the top,” you said, readying your headphones.

“Y/N, you got a visitor?” your producer said and you looked up and frowned. You pulled off the headphones and walked out of the booth, into the hall, where your muse stood.

“Loki?” you gasped as you walked forward, wrapping your arms around his waist tightly. You pulled away and looked up at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I have something to show you, if you have a second. You said you were having some trouble with some songs so…”

“So you flew all the way down here to show me some lyrics?” you asked, incredulous and happily surprised.

“You flew all over the world for me, it’s only fair I repay the favor,” he stated with a boyish grin. “Besides, someone back home was encouraging me to come see you.”

You peered up at him only a moment longer, getting transfixed on that stunning smile before you finally remembered why he was here. You opened up a folded piece of paper and gasped.

“Loki… is this a poem?”

“Yes, for you. I thought it might help with some of the musical writer’s block,” he tried.

“This… this is fantastic. I love it. Truly.”

“You can use it for a song, if you’d like.”

“Really? Are you sure? I’ll credit you and make sure you get royalties and--”

He put his hands on your shoulders and looked at you. “All I need from you is confirmation that you will accompany me to a date this evening.”

You stared in awe for a moment. “A...a date? That’s it?”

“If it’s not too much to ask?”

“No! Of course not! Yeah, I’d love to. I’d be more than happy to,” you said, blowing any sort of cool cover you might’ve had going on.

“Excellent.” He leaned forward and kissed your forehead. “I look forward to your next album. Make me proud.”

At this, you grinned like a fool before he left you speechless in the hallway. Quickly, you tucked away your song, prepared to look over it later and transform it. You stepped back in the booth and the next take was perfect.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#it was written in song #loki #loki fic #loki x reader #loki odinson #loki laufeyson

31 notes · View notes

flwrpotts · 6 years

Note

23. “well the probability of that is 0, but you go ahead.” Pre-canon dynamics involving Betty, Reggie, Archie, and Jughead - pining and snark! (Also, as ever - sending you all the best vibes and excited to see what comes out of this!)

im fully obsessed with this prompt and hoped I managed to do it justice!!! thank you so so much for sending me this delight, and I hope angsty 8th graders planning a school dance works for you!!!

Betty finds him at the very end of homeroom, sliding into the seat next to him and reaching over to pull out one of his omnipresent earbuds.

Jughead jerks back, startled at the sudden loss of Pink Floyd to his left eardrum, and glowers at her, a far less severe expression than it would be if she were anyone else.

“Good morning,” she says brightly, picking at the sleeve of her pink cardigan. “I need a favor.”

“I’m not promising until you tell me whatever it is,” he says, half teasing, half remembering the time she conned him into working the student council car wash.

“It’s nothing like that,” she says quickly, reading his mind. “I’m in charge of planning the Riverdale Middle School Halloween Dance, and I need help setting up in the gym after school. Painting signs, hanging up streamers, stuff like that. No artistic ability required.”

She blinks at him, anxious and hopeful, and really, she should know by now that he was in from the moment that she sat down next to him.

“Also!” she says, cutting him off as he opens his mouth to answer. “I baked those sugar cookies you like. And you can pick whatever you song you want to play at the dance.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Coop,” Jughead replies, and the relief lights up on Betty’s face. “What time do you need me there?”

She smiles at him, all teeth, the way girls do when they really mean it. Something pangs, a little painfuly, in Jughead’s chest.

“You’re a lifesaver, Juggie,” she says. “Come by after school, and it’ll probably only be a couple of hours.”

The bell rings, and she slides back out of the seat, eager not to be late to class.

“Have a good day!” she calls, and Jughead watches her go, wrestling with the strange fondness cracked open in his chest.

The day passes in a blur of lessons and hanging out with Archie, and Jughead makes his way to the school gym at half past three, excited to hang out with just Betty in a way that he doesn’t want to study too closely.

There are kids jamming the halls around him, chatting loudly about what costumes they’re going to wear to the dance, or arguing over whether or not they’re too old to go trick-or-treating. Jughead is against mass-produced holidays in general, but he’s always liked the buzz of excitement that comes the night before a special occasion. The feeling that something is going to happen in their sleepy little town where nothing even happens.

He opens the door to the gym and slips inside shoulder first, only to recoil when he sees Archie and Reggie Mantle sitting at the little fold-out table, cutting out what look like construction paper bats.

“What’s he doing here?” he directs at Betty, the feeling of betrayal curdling the excitement in his stomach faster than he can process it. Betty, for her part, looks unpertrubed as she continues to string up tiny glittery pumpkins across the bleachers.

“Reggie is helping us to set up for the Halloween dance,” she says, like that’s a suitable explanation for inviting Riverdale’s very own Steve Stifler to help decorate the school gym. “Do you think you could start hanging streamers over there?”

Jughead doesn’t move, still frozen to the spot, and Reggie rolls his eyes, chewing loudly on a piece of gum. “Could you lay off the angst, Holden Caulfield?” he drawls. “Stop acting like someone stole your gym clothes.”

“Someone did steal my gym clothes,” Jughead protests, voice pinched. “You. Last Tuesday.”

Reggie shrugs, unrepentant, and begins to scrawl a face onto one of the pumpkins that litter the table. “Let’s not get bogged down by the details.”

“Guys,” says Archie, goodnatured and pleading, glancing back and forth between the two boys, who are still pointedly glaring at one another.

“Fine,” says Jughead wearily, and fully steps into the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Whatever, Ponyboy,” quips Reggie, and Jughead suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he takes stock of the gym, which looks like it’s had orange glitter explode inside of it, and walks over to where Betty is twining together black and orange crepe paper to make streamers.

“He didn’t even read that book,” he informs Betty lowly as he sits down next to her. “The other day I overheard him ask Jason why Ponyboy couldn’t stay conscious long enough to narrate the story!”

Betty blinks at him, the corner of her mouth twitching in a repressed smirk. “Well, he has a point,” she says, and Jughead suddenly finds himself smirking too, the whole situation suddenly a sort of dark amusement.

“I’m sorry,” he says, knocking his shoulder lightly against Betty’s and picking up his own roll of crepe paper. “I know I promised to help set up, not complain the entire time.”

There’s a pause, and then Betty sighs.

“No, I’m sorry, Juggie” she says earnestly, avoiding eye contact to look studiously down at her work. “I should have told you sooner. I know that you and Reggie don’t always- see eye to eye.” Understatement of the century, Jughead thinks to himself, but Betty isn’t done yet.

“I just- this dance is really important to me. Everyone else on the committe dropped out, so it’s just me responsible for it, and Cheryl Blossom told me that if she’s suitably impressed she might- might consider putting me on the River Vixens next year. It has to be perfect.”

Betty exhales, a little shuddery, and Jughead notices her hands curl into fists. It’s a new habit, one he’s just started to pick up on, and as always, the sight of it sends a skitter of panic down his spine, a marrow-deep urge to make her feel better. He’s never met a person in his life who wants to be good as badly as Betty, who cares so deeply about everything.

“Hey,” Jughead says softly. “The dance is gonna be amazing, Betts. The best Riverdale Middle School has ever seen.”

“You think so?” she asks, eyes huge, streamers forgotten on the table in front of her.

“I know so. The Coopers are practically Halloween aficionados. Remember in fourth grade, when you insisted on the three of us dressing up as the Golden trio? I had the lipstick scar on my forehead for a week.”

Betty smiles, almost laughing, at the memory of the three of them- their homemade Hogwarts robes, the chess piece she made Archir carry around to be a more convincing Ron.

“The three of us won the first place prize in the school’s costume contest,” she recalls. “My mother was just glad I had agreed to not go as Nancy Drew for the third year in a row.”

“See?” he replies. “The dance is gonna be great, Betts. Kids’ll be terrified.”

She smiles, looking like she’s going to say something else, and that’s when something thwacks him in the back of the head. Jughead starts, and realizes it was one of the plastic spiders that Betty found in some dusty old supply closet.

“Hey, slackers,” calls Reggie gleefully, not a shred of remorse in his expression. “Those cobwebs aren’t going to hang themselves!”

“You are the worst sort of person,” Jughead informs him succinctly, calling across the room, and Betty hiccups a badly hidden laugh.

“Takes one to know one.”

“Reg, I think we’re probably all set here, if you want to leave,” Archie says, not at all as subtle as he thinks he is. “Coach’ll kick your ass if you’re late to practice.” It’s a peace offering, Jughead knows, and the gesture warms his chest, as poorly executed as it is.

Reggie just looks amused. “Trying to get rid of me, Andrews? Fat chance. I am the backbone of this Halloween Dance Organizing Committee.”

“You’re the appendix,” Jughead replies. “Unnecessary and painful to deal with.”

“Is that what your mother said when-”

“Boys!” says Betty mock sternly, her best teacher voice, and Reggie and Jughead glower but stand down.

They spend the next two hours decorating under Betty’s careful supervision, pasting various Halloween themed cutouts along the walls and hanging streamers, creating decorated pumpkins for each table.

By the end of it, even Jughead admits that the place looks much nicer than the Riverdale Middle School athletics gym warrants, everything dark and shiny. Betty claps her hands as she turns slowly, assessing.

“I think we’re done here,” she says, satisfied, and steps towards her backpack, only to stop suddenly. “Oh- the banner!”

The three boys turn and watch, mystified, as she unearths a giant, hideous banner from the corner. Riverdale Middle School Halloween Bash! it reads in dusty, curlicued letters, and Betty unfurls it across the table, furrowing her brow.

“Do we really need it?” Jughead asks, wrinkling his nose, and Betty clutches it protectively.

“They put it up at every Riverdale Middle School dance! Yes, we need it!”

“Yeah,” says Archie dubiously. “But aren’t we gonna need a… ladder for that, or something?”

“Yes,” Betty says, anguished as she looks down on the frankly hideous banner. “I should have asked Mr. Dillon to leave it out earlier, but I was so distracted with getting the tablecloths I totally forgot! We have to find a way to get it up there.”

She points to the spot where the banner is supposed to hang, easily twelve feet about the ground.

“That’s easy,” says Reggie confidently. “We just have to move over the table, stack the chair on top of it, and then have somebody stand on it. That’ll definitely be high up enough. Any takers?” he glances over at Jughead, and his smile widens, becomes sharper. “How about you, Suicide Squad?”

“Yeah, the chances of that are going to be zero, but you go ahead,” replies Jughead, and the two of them quickly devolve into an argument, Betty cutting in to interject that maybe if someone held the chair so it was steady?

“Guys,” says Archie, above the fray. “Guys!” They turn to look at him. “Why don’t we try to get the ladder out of the janitor’s closet ourselves?” It’s such an obvious solution that the four of them stand in silence for a few beats, considering.

“Good idea, Arch,” Betty says after a minute, and starts walking to the door, the three boys following behind her. “I know where the closet is. This way.”

They walk through the abandoned hallways of school, and it sends a shiver through Jughead, the weird, empty feeling of public schools after dark. Betty guides them, weaving through the Pine-Sol scented hallways as Jughead admires the bounce of her blonde ponytail, shiny under the dulled flourescent light.

She wheels to a stop in a front of a musty, forgettable closet and smiles like she’s found the Ark of the Covenant, such a bright expression that Jughead feels the aftereffects of it rattle through him. Betty’s happiness has always been contagious.

“The ladder is in here,” she says confidently. “I saw Mr. Dillon put it in there after

Archie steps forwards and tries the knob, which is, predictably locked. The four middle schoolers stare at the door.

“I bet I can kick it down,” Reggie says, taking a step back, and this time Jughead doesn’t bother trying to hide his scoff.

“That won’t be necessary,” Betty cuts in smoothly, and pulls a bobbypin out of her hair. She pries the pin open with her teeth easily, like she’s done it a million times before, and jams it into the lock, jiggling it back and forth until the door swings open.

She folds the metal back into shape and slides it back into her hair nonchalantly, while the boys watch, dumbfounded.

“Badass,” says Reggie approvingly, and for once, Jughead is inclined to agree with the sentiment.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” Reggie asks as Betty steps inside the dark, dusty closet.

“The Nancy Drew workbook,” she says with a sardonic grin, appearing in the doorway with the ladder, and Archie and Reggie spring forward to help her with the unwieldly thing. Jughead stares at her for a moment, awed and a little amazed.

“You’re a genius, Betts,” he says, and she flushes.

The banner is put up without much more discussion, and Betty sighs in relief as she steps back, assessing.

“The gym looks awesome,” Archie says, clapping her on the back.

“I couldn’t have done it without you guys,” Betty insists, and starts rummaging in her backpack, pulling out three identical paper bags, patterned with tiny skeltons. “And I did promise baked goods. So-”

She dispenses the three bags, and Jughead immediately pulls out a cookie frosted to look like a pumpkin. He takes a bite, and nearly moans, the perfect ratio of cookie to frosting.

“These are amazing, Betty,” he says, finishing one and inhaling another in a matter of seconds.

Reggie hums his agreement. “Almost makes three hours with Riverdale’s very own emo loser tolerable,” he says, and Archie elbows him in the side.

“Right back at you, Merridew” says Jughead dryly, earning a questioning glance from Archie.

“Please, Suicide Squad. It would be the honor of your life to be trapped on an island with me,” Reggie tosses back easily, and Jughead is so shocked he caught the reference that he doesn’t think of a reply.

“Well, my ride is here,” Archie says as he slings his backpack onto his shoulder. “Anyone need a ride home?”

Really, Jughead could use a ride home from Mr. A, seeing as there’s little to no chance of either of his parents getting him and October is finally starting to get cold. But to say he does would be to admit it in front of Reggie, and there’s no chance of him doing that, so instead Jughead just joins in Reggie and Betty’s round of nodding.

They’re at the front of the school now, and Archie dashes off towards the warmth of the car with a hasty “See you guys tomorrow!”

He gets in, and Mr. Andrews starts to drive away, only for the car to stop near the end of the parking lot. The window rolls down, and Archie ducks his head out, the red of his hair exaggerated in the dim light. “And thanks for the cookies!” he calls out, and Betty’s smile is bright enough to light the entire town for a week.

The car peels out of the parking lot, and Reggie jostles Betty in the side, grinning. “You are so whipped,” he tells her, and Betty’s blush becomes even more pronounced.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says, resolute and entirely unconvincing. Reggie looks like he’s going to argue with her, but a sleek Maserati speeds into the parking lot, the one Jughead knows belongs to Reggie’s older brother.

“Whatever,” he says with a shrug. “See you losers tomorrow.”

Finally, it’s just Jughead and Betty, standing in the quiet autumn dark together. Jughead breathes in the silence for a few seconds before speaking.

“I really don’t understand why you had to ask Reggie Mantle of all people to help you.”

Betty grins at him, and steals a bite of his fourth cookie for herself. “Reggie isn’t so bad,” she says, like she’s in on a secret that he doesn’t know.

“Easy for you to say,” he replies, but there’s no heat in it. Betty smirks, a crooked expression that tugs at the left side of her mouth.

“Admit it. You like having someone to argue with.”

Jughead concedes the point. As annoying as Reggie Mantle is, he’s annoying in a way that feels benign, that doesn’t signal any real sort of malice.

“I’ll allow that he’s occasionally fun to mock,” Jughead says loftily, and Betty laughs, tipping her head back.

“I’ll take that,” she says, and her exhale turns into smoke in the night air.

“Hey, I’m still holding you to your promise,” Jughead adds in. “I get my choice of music tomorrow night. One song. My pick.

“Of course,” Betty reassures. “I take my bribery very seriously, Mr. Jones.”

“I appreciate you being a woman of your word, Ms. Cooper.”

“Hey, Juggie-” she says, a little nervous, but then a car pulls into the driveway, a pissed off looking Alice Cooper behind the wheel. “Oh! That’s my ride.” “See you tomorrow, Betts,” he says, and Betty leans over quickly to peck him on the cheek.

“Thank you, Juggie,” she says, quietly and then darts off towards the car.

He lingers in the parking lot for a few minutes before making the half hour walk back over to the Southside. When he puts his hand up to his cheek, he can still feel the warmth.

The dance goes off without a hitch, or as close to without a hitch that a middle school social event can get.

Jughead wrestles for awhile whether he even wants to go, but then he remembers the gleam in Betty’s eye, and Archie’s promise of a sleepover after, and digs an old eyepatch out of Jellybean’s bedroom for an extremely unconvincing pirate costume.

The gym is sweaty and too hot, littered with broken or forgotten bits of costumes, and Jughead is content to linger at the back wall, drinking punch and watching his classmates make fools of themselves. Archie dances with six different girls in the course of five different songs, and Reggie attempts to dump a flask into the punch bowl, only to be scolded by a livid Alice Cooper, a deeply entertaining spectacle.

Betty is dressed as a fairy princess, wings droopy at her back and some sort of makeup on her eyes that makes her look glittery and a little bit unreal, like something from a movie. She is, all in all, much too pretty for a school dance.

He’s just about to leave, head back to Archie’s early and maybe have Fred make him a grilled cheese, when the music changes from the Black Eyed Peas hit that’s been topping the charts for the past week to something slower, a little more grown up.

Jughead grins. Betty Cooper is, after all, a woman of her word. She appears in the crowd and shoves her way towards him, head tilted up to better listen to the music.

Won’t you let me walk you home from school? starts the lead singer, melancholic, and Jughead loves this song in a way he doesn’t quite understand, in a way that makes him feel fragile and giant all at once, like there’s someone out there that understands him all the way to the bone

Betty’s in front of him now, watches the flicker of recognition on his face, and then smiles, sly and nervous and hopeful all at once.

“I promised you a song,” she says, biting her bottom lip hard enough that it wears away the glittery pink gloss. “Do you maybe want to dance with me?” “Yeah,” Jughead says, too quickly, and then flushes, from what seems like the roots of his hair to the tips of his toes. “I mean- yeah. That would be nice.”

They shuffle back onto the dancefloor, and Betty takes the two steps necessary to reach him. She laces her arms behind his neck hesitantly, studiously looking down at her pointy toed ballet shoes, and Jughead lets his arms settle at her waist, the material at her dress stiff and crinkly under his fingers.

They start to sway, a little awkward, and Jughead searches for a joke, but nothing comes to mind.

Instead, he listens to the song, the spiderweb delicate tremor of the lead singer’s voice- Won’t you tell your dad to get off my back? Tell him what we said about “Paint it Black.”

Betty sighs, something a little wistful in the sound it. “I love this song,” she says, and he nods in agreement.

He wants to tell her that she’s the prettiest girl in the entire school. He wants to tell her that she is smart and funny and strange and kind. He wants to tell her this his mother and father won’t stop fighting and family is feeling more and more like a faraway concept, a story for him to tell Jellybean at night.

“You did a really good job planning the dance, Betts,” he says instead.

Betty does the thing where she ducks her head into her shoulder, that silly sort of joy that wrenches in his chest.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she says, and the awkwardness between them is gone, replaced by Betty leaning forward to press her head against his shoulder, fine blonde strands of hair tickling his shoulder and making him feel like he needs to sneeze.

In thirty seconds the song will fade out, and Betty will step back to go find Archie, and he will walk all the way back home to Sunnyside with the cold shrieking down to his bones, and he will wish that you could relive memories like clothes, over and over again.

But for now, they sway together under the long-ago sound of the music, and it is something.

#btw the song referenced in this is thirteen by big star #which makes me cry every single time I listen to it for no reason!#anyways writing pre canon was very fun and very challenging #and im obsessed with this prompt in perpetuity #prompt fill #mine

70 notes · View notes

imhereforbvcky · 6 years

Text

Pecans vs. Blueberries

Masterlist

Summary: Sam Wilson challenges his pastry chef girlfriend to a breakfast making competition that devolves into fluff and silliness. Prompt: “Take another step and I swear to you I will knock you on your ass!”

Warnings: none! I don’t even think I swore! Just tooth rotting fluff. Ha! I punned.

Word Count: 2174

Author’s Note: This is for @denialanderror’s 2k Writing Challenge. Congrats, buddy! :) Thanks for some non-angst inspiration.

Morning was always the best time to make use of the kitchens at the Avengers Compound. It was massive and pristine and had every tool you could dream of within its sleek cabinets and pantries.

The only challenge was that the place was perpetually filled with hungry training superheroes, who had no qualms about dipping a fingertip into your freshly whipped buttercream. Who often prematurely snatched up a golden pastry before you’d filled it with custard and topped it with chocolate ganache. Sometimes an entire bowl of apricot glazed fruit would be nibbled down to just a few crushed berries by the time you were ready to top your perfectly set tart.

But mornings were usually safe. If you woke early enough, the only one with any life would be Steve whose 1940s manners hadn’t quite abandoned him. He never swiped without asking, and he only rarely asked.

Your boyfriend, however, was a menace. Sam would slide an arm around your waist and kiss your neck while his fingers reached for the lemon curd. He’d only grin when you balked and kiss you with the tangy flavor still lingering on his tongue. He liked to hover close by, watching you work and experiment, sneaking treats and frowning at the more daring concoctions.

So today while your pear and almond tart baked in the oven, warm vanilla and spicy cinnamon and star anise wafting down the halls, you also started on something the soon-to-rise team would be allowed to eat.

Sam was the first to follow the scent into the kitchen. He slipped behind you, humming at the prospect of a sweet breakfast delight. His hands held gently onto your hips as he stepped closer.

“Smells good,” he murmured. His nose skimmed the column of your neck before he placed a soft kiss to your shoulder. “Can I help?”

You leaned into him as you set down the bowl of pale runny batter. “I don’t think you can,” you grinned, swirling the pan to spread the thin substance.

“I’mma pretend you didn’t just say that.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” you snapped back with a wide smile. “Do you make crepes a lot?”

“No,” he argued. With a raised brow, he stepped away from you and ran a spatula through your crepe batter, giving it a skeptical frown. “I make pancakes because they’re better than some sad floppy crepe.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that!” You pointed your own spatula at him. “I’m going to make you the best crepe you’ve ever had.”

“Still won’t be as good as the pancake I’m ‘bout to make you.” He swatted your ass on his way to the pantry.

“I don’t want your puffed up pan-fried cake from a box!” you laughed as he returned proudly displaying the box of Aunt Jemima pancake mix.

“Oh you will,” he smirked, drawing up a pan beside yours on the stove.

You groaned and rolled your eyes. “Why because you’ll drown it in maple syrup? It’ll be up to you to call an ambulance when I choke on it.”

“Baby, you won’t even need syrup.” Sam Wilson didn’t second guess his choices; he felt strongly about things and made decisions with finality. That confidence was typically an attractive trait, but today, in this breakfast battle, it only irked you. “Everyone’s going to choose my pancakes over your chewy wilted crepes.”

“Everyone?!” you laughed. “Is this a competition now? Sam I’m a pastry chef, I’m going to destroy you and your boxed pancakes.”

“Yeah and if we were making soufflés I might be worried,” he shrugged as he began slicing bananas.

You only shook your head, watching with suspicion as he reached over you to swipe the vanilla and nutmeg you’d used earlier in your tart. “Tell you what, if I like your pancakes I’ll make you breakfast in bed on Saturday.”

“No-ho-ho way!” he laughed, pouring batter onto his hot skillet and carefully placing banana slices around the center of the pancake. Next he sprinkled coconut onto it and waited. “You can’t be contestant and judge. Everybody votes. A pecan in the jar for me, a blueberry for you. Loser makes breakfast.”

You laughed as he held up one of each, drawing the blueberry from your pile.

“You’re on,” you agreed.

He popped both the pecan and the blueberry into his mouth before he leaned over and kissed your temple.

If you were honest, you were a little nervous. Sam’s first pancake looked damn good as he dropped chopped pecans on top and stole your bowl of whipped cream.

Pancakes were an American classic. Lucky for you, this compound was full of an international crowd. Sam had hedged his bets on one good pancake, but you would make sweet crepes, savory crepes, simple ones, and decadent ones.

Before long you’d taken over the kitchen, sautéing mushrooms and dicing chives. You whipped sweet cream and sliced strawberries. The chocolate sauce was melting beautifully with a little cream and a splash of coffee. You had a bowl of sliced lemons beside the sugar, and warm ham next to several cheese sauces.

In a word, Sam was toast.

He began to realize this with agitated amusement. The more items you set out, the more the kitchen smelled like a cafe, the more his teammates filtered into the kitchen, dipping fingers into your sauces, swiping cherry tomatoes, and bits of fruit. They each made their plates and you found yourself needing to make more.

“You know,” he drawled, leaning over your pan, stirring your next batch of chocolate sauce. “I think I’d prefer a chocolate crepe.”

“You don’t have to tell me, Sammy. I know my crepes are better,” you grinned. “Just put chocolate sauce on it.”

“No, I mean, the crepe. I think your recipe needs some tweaking. I could help,” he grinned over at you, lifting the spoon coated in chocolate sauce.

“No!” you insisted. “No, no, no! That has cream and so much sugar. It’ll throw off the batter.”

“I think it needs it.” If the mischievous glint in his eye didn’t tell you what he was planning, the smirk on his face and the slow deliberate movements he made toward your side of the kitchen sure did.

You quickly snatched up your crepe batter as he lunged forward with the chocolate covered spoon.

“Sam! You know I take a challenge very seriously,” you tried to keep a straight face as you danced on either side of the island. Every time he stepped right, you stepped left. “And you’re trying to cheat!”

“I’m helping!” he argued as he hurled himself on top of the island.

You yelped; backing away with a laugh until your back hit the table. He stalked closer and closer.

He dipped a finger into the chocolate coating the spoon and brought it to his lips. “Mmm this is some good sauce, baby. It’s going in that crepe batter,” he promised.

“Take another step and I swear to you I will knock you on your ass!” you laughed.

“Oh you will?” he chuckled with raised eyebrows.

“Yes! Don’t sabotage my crepes!”

“I don’t need to take another step.”

Before you could even register his actions he held the handle of the spoon firmly in the air and bent the tip of it back with a finger and released. Chocolate sauce splattered forward in an arc of sugary dark mess. It streaked across your face, down your forearms still clutched around the bowl, and an enormous glob ran in the batter from one end of the bowl to the other.

You stood shocked, staring into the bowl with eyes wide. Sam rolled his lips between his teeth to bite back the laughter threatening to bubble forth. He stepped closer, waiting for a reaction, but you gave him none.

“I think uh…” he smiled, brown eyes dancing with laughter. “I think it could use a little more.”

“Sam don’t you dare!” you shouted, swinging the bowl out of reach.

But he was never aiming for the bowl. He swiped the whole spoon across your cheek, leaving a smear of sticky sweet chocolate sauce in its wake.

“Perfect.” The smile on his face was both enchanting and infuriating. He leaned down and kissed your forehead. “Just…” then your nose, “perfect,” then your chocolate covered cheek before he licked his lips.

You swiped two fingers over the mess on your face and sighed before licking them clean. “It is good chocolate sauce,” you agreed, setting down the bowl of batter.

He only laughed as he wrapped his arms around you.

“You should try the whipped cream though,” you smirked as you smeared a handful from the table down his face. The white foam smeared from nose to chin.

You glimpsed the smile beneath the cream before he dove for your neck. Still trapped in his arms, all you could do was squeal and squirm as he smeared the whipped cream into your neck and shoulder mingled with laughter and kisses and nips at your skin. It was cold and wet, but his lips were warm, and his beard scratched at your skin.

Tony cleared his throat from the end of the table. “Hey there are children present, can you two…” he flicked his wrist to wave back down the hall, but the lopsided grin on his face made you giggle.

“Wha? Me?” Peter asks, swallowing a mouthful of pancake. “I’m-- I’m not a child. I saved all those people on that ferry remember? And I could get my driver’s license now--”

“Do you have your driver’s license?” Tony rolled his head back toward the kid.

“Well no, I take the bus, but--”

“We cooked y’all can clean!” Sam insisted, not even sparing a glance as he kept you caged in his arms and walked you both down the hall toward his room. You could only giggle and shuffle backward in his strong grip, kissing at the sticky bits of breakfast still smeared over his chin and neck.

That weekend you lay in bed, enjoying the cool spring air through the window. It was rare that you slept in, but you relished in it when you did. You wished Sam was here; wished you were curled up under his arm, head resting on his shoulder with your legs tangled together. Your favorite part of lazy mornings was the tight squeeze he gave you when he woke.

But today he’d kissed your forehead and slipped out the door, telling you to rest, he was just going to run with Steve and he’d be back.

And he did come back. With a soft knock at the door to announce his presence, he eased inside holding a tray of food. You grinned from ear to ear as you shifted up in bed, drawing your knees to your chest.

“What’s this?” you asked happily, stretching like a cat.

“Well, there were way more blueberries than pecans on Tuesday morning, so.” He shrugged, setting the tray on the bed. There was orange juice and a bowl of whipped cream, a dish of whipped butter, strawberries and blackberries, a small pitcher with… maple syrup.

“Sam… is there a pancake under that lid?” you asked with a wary smile.

“Baby, I wouldn’t dare,” he feigned shock.

You eyed him carefully, reaching for the warming lid over the plate.

“It’s a waffle!” he announced as you pulled it away.

“Sam!” you laughed as you fell back onto the pillows. “Is this from a box too?”

“The very same box,” he grinned, taking the fork and cutting himself a bite. “Mmm Aunt Jemima knows the way to my heart.”

You rolled your eyes. “Are you eating my victory breakfast?”

“No,” he smiled more softly this time as he picked up the plate. “This is my breakfast. You’re too picky and too good at what you do. I learned my lesson.”

You picked up the envelope that he’d left under the plate. “Angelo’s?” you asked, excitedly unfolding the gift card.

“I know you like their homemade bread; I’ll take you out for breakfast instead.”

“So let me get this straight,” you laughed. “You lost, and you get your favorite breakfast here, in bed. And I have to go shower and get dressed and go out to get mine?”

Sam dropped his head to the mattress and let out a chuckle. “When you put it like that…”

“Hey Sam?” you asked, pushing your fingers over his hair and dragging your nails across his skin as you hooked your fingers back down his neck and beneath his ear.

“Yeah,” he mumbled into the blankets.

“Can we make me some of those banana coconut pancakes?”

He turned to you with a smile creeping up the corners of his lips as he shook his head. “You liked ‘em, huh?” he asked, rolling out of bed and holding his hand out for you to take.

You nodded, tugging down your t-shirt. “With extra pecans?”

Anything & Everything Tags: strikethrough means tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you. If I can’t tag you for 3 consecutive fics, I’ll remove you from the list. You can always be re-added if you sort it out.

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#beeswritingchallenge #sam wilson x reader #sam x reader #sam wilson fic #sam wilson #sam wilson fluff #sam wilson x reader fluff

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