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onepiecepetalfanfics089 · 8 months

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Enchanted~..

Chapter 1

Yandere! Strawhats + more x witch Fem! Reader 🎀

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Almost every flower has its way to protect itself..some are poisonous if you even dare to touch them in the wrong places at all while others have thorns or just smell so bad that people don’t care about it’s beauty.

These are all ways that beautiful flowers protect themselves..

In a way, you were like a flower. Delicate, graceful and beautiful. You had your thorns though, ways to defend yourself greatly. Your stare could melt someone’s heart yet, if you wanted the opposite to happen to them you could also do the opposite with ease.

When will you be like the flowers in one of your many gardens?

When will you realize that such beauty could cause immense pain to come?

Just at the end of that thought, you heard the sound of a ship docking close to your island.

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You also heard…a group of people?..they sure were loud..there was shouting..but It sounded happy! Wait that wasn’t good was it?..you haven’t had visitors since…well a long time so maybe it was good? You were always taught to NEVER speak to strangers..especially not pirates..you hoped they weren’t pirates!..

As the sound of the people who you assumed had never been on a island before because they were undeniably loud got closer you could feel your heart pounding with a mix of different emotions such as excitement, nervousness and most of all, curiosity. If Mother Eve found out you were taking to strangers you would be a dead girl!

There was just something about these people though..you haven’t even met them and yet feel so..drawn to them. It was like a string that was tugging you nonstop to a place it knew you weren’t supposed to go to!

Taking a deep breath, you slowly made your way through the forest and to the outside of it where the noise grew louder and louder. Crouching behind a bush you peeked through the sage green leaves that only you knew could make a very good potion to turn someone into a frog, just for good measure!

The first thing you saw made you squint your eyes, there was a boy in a straw hat. He seemed unusually happy with a toothy grin that shined bright than the sun. He wore a velvet colored vest with golden buttons on it and denim shorts with a pair of sandals. He kept jumping around, holding his hat that a red ribbon around it. He seemed so..excited about everything it made you want to smile and laugh along with him. You wondered, what was it like just Jumping in the sand without a care in the world?

“Yeah!! We’ve finally docked on an island!! Can y’a believe it Nami?!”

“Uh yeah I can, the map led us here because I’m the navigator remember?”

A girl with orange hair that reminded you of a beautiful Merigold you saw the other day said with a raised eyebrow, checking a weird looking bracelet that a globe on it and some arrows in it like it was a watch.

“Oi! Sanji!! I see some fruit over there and a bird I think! Let’s eat it!!”

You then saw another man, he had a suit on for some reason, tilting your head you saw that he was smoking a ‘cigarette’..Mother Eve always told you they were extremely horrible for your health. Observing the man even more you noticed his shiny blond hair and his swirly eyebrows that you didn’t know how to feel about.

Wait..what fruit was he talking about?.. you then thought to yourself, eyebrows furrowed. Now shifting your gaze over to the fruit the boy was referring to your eyes widened, that fruit was extremely poisonous and if eaten and could cause immediate death!

Chewing on your bottom lip you gave a soft sigh. Out of all the fruits why did they have to pick that one?..maybe you can just sneak over there and cast a spell to turn it into a safer fruit..yeah!..that’d be fine! They won’t even notice you!

Just be quiet as a mouse..quiet as a-

SNAP

As you were standing up you stepped on a twig!

Oh come on!! Seriously Y/N?!

Immediately the chatter went quiet. Your heart pounded as you felt all eyes on the bush you were currently hiding in.

Looks like hiding in a bush full of sage, twigs and crunchy leaves wasn’t such a good idea after all.. oh boy you were really in for it now weren’t you? A tall, green haired man with three swords and a rather serious expression on his face started to come closer and closer to your hiding spot. He was clutching the hilt of one of his swords and had a skeptical yet serious look on his face, slowly creeping closer…

Thump-thump..

Thinking fast, you quickly gathered a pile of leaves and plucked a handful of the sage from the bush you were currently hiding in, mixing them together, you uttered the spell you needed and there a frog slowly appeared from the pile you just saw. Before the frog could even begin to do a ‘ribbit’ or hop you threw it out of the bushes and in front of everyone, making it seem like the frog that was just born into this world not even five minutes ago, was hiding in the bushes, not you.

There was a moment of silence, looking around to see their reactions you held your breath. They all then smiled and laughed, some letting out a chuckle while the green haired swordsman just let out a sigh, his eyes fluttering closed faintly before he smirked and turned around to go back to his friends.

Just then you spotted something large behind them. Was that a..ship?..you’ve only seen ships in pictures and books. You marveled at the size and the cute lamb in front. The skull with the straw hat on the flag was even cute too-

Wait!

Something then clicked in your brain.

A ship with a skull…a jolly roger…

Pirates! They were pirates..pirates were dangerous..you sighed softly and then stared at the boy with the straw hat.

His smile..his laugh..he looked safe..! A little dumb but safe..

Tapping your chin you began to ponder..it wouldn’t hurt to just maybe ‘accidentally’ run into them..maybe even introduce yourself and get some answers..that wouldn’t hurt at all!..right?

Silently giggling to yourself you slowly slipped away from your hiding place and summoned a beautiful vine to pull you up to the trees.

Your hair flowed majestically as you swing vines and tree’s like the earth was your very own. Summoning then to lend you help and then leaving them there to grow with others.

So many mix of emotions were brewing up inside of you like whenever you made a sacred potion..excitement, nerves but most of all you felt..uneasy..? From the moment you saw the group of visitors you just felt as if there was something..off about their presence.

Maybe it was just you being paranoid..yeah!

What harm could they really do how bad could this honestly be?

Thoughts were racing through your mind but just as you were about to snap out of it and focus, your body came to a complete halt.

Large, wide eyes stared back into your own. The pair blinked multiple times and so did yours, after a few minutes your cheeks began to flush in embarrassment, trying to leave. As soon as you took one step back though, you felt a hand in your ankle to pull you back. Did it just…stretch to get to your ankle?! You’d never seen anything like THIS before..

“Hey! Where ya goin’?!”

The voice who you recognized to be the one you saw earlier, with the straw hat said, tilting his head and giving a confused frown while tilting his head a bit.

You had to admit that he was kind of cute in a way..black hair, tan skin, puppy dog eyes and that smile that drawled you in like poison..it screamed optimism,adventure…just enjoying life. Something you utterly craved.

Lips parting slightly, you cleared your throat to talk with some bit of confidence you could muster up.

“Oh uhm..nowhere. Who are you people? What are you doing on this island?” You then asked him, becoming somewhat serious as thorns surrounded where you stood to show him that you would not let him hurt this place, the place you held dear.

Surprisingly his eyes sparkled by your power, his jaw seem to drop in amazement as he looked around frantically with a grin. “Woah!! How’d you do that?!”

You felt shocked, was this boy, the one who could stretch his body or even do more for all you know, complimenting you on your power?! His eyes stared into yours again, he was grinning and it seemed like his eyes were clouded with some peculiar type of emotion..you just didn’t know what yet.

Maybe it was interest? Curiosity? It felt like a guessing game. For some reason you desperately wanted to know what was going on in this boys head..what was he thinking about exactly?

Tilting your head you then spoke in a soft voice “..you’re not here to harm or destroy this place are you?..” you asked while stepping another step closer, you expected him to take a step back for personal space, but he stayed where he was. hat grin never getting wiped off of his face.

“Nah! This place is cool!!”

He said with a shrug, talking in a soft voice too. One that reassured you he was safe. These people..were safe..

Right..?

You were now walking with this boy they called ‘luffy’ in the forest to go meet the others, he seemed to warm up to you quickly, blabbering on about his crew and how they were very grateful to dock on an island after ‘sooo long!’

The wind then suddenly blew and he put his hand instinctively on his hat to hold it down from blowing away. Tilting your head you gave a smile while staring up at him in curiosity.

“Why is that hat so important to you?”

“Someone very important gave it to me!” He replied before you could even blink. Now turning to you, you could feel him stare deeply into your eyes again.

“What’s your name anyway?” He then asked with his grin remaining. Why was he smiling so much..? You wondered. Wait no, how could he smile so much, he just met you! Was he already smitten?!

“Y/N..! The reason why I asked you on your motives was because I’ve lived here my whole life you know..” shrugging, you grew a plant that was actually safe to eat this time and handed it to him. He most gladly took it.

With a mouthful he happily said, “hey thanks!!”

You smiled and thought for a moment, just like he did a moment ago, you halted walking for a minute to turn to him.

“Do you want to see something cool..Luffy..?”

He blinked and finished his fruit quickly, grinning even bigger now.

“Yeah sure!!”

…

Adrenaline rushed through you as you flew through the air, hearing you luffy behind you cheer just as loud as you did. Living on an island for most of your life had its perks you know, it allowed your imagination to run wild!

Which was why you and luffy here were currently flying through the air above the trees on a dragon you made completely out of dry leaves, sage and Cat’s Claw! You held onto the dragons horns while it operated like a roller coaster and flew gracefully like the wind.

Though, luffy’s hands slowly creeping up to your hips and holding onto them almost possessively caught your attention, you just played it off though, grinning up at him. It was probably something normal anyway!..

Finally, you felt him wrap his arms around your waist completely and jump off of the dragon! Was this boy mad?!

“GUM-GUM: BALLOON!!!!” He shouted in the air as his body increased two times its size to give you a safe landing, to say you were absolutely shocked was definitely an understatement..he was just as lively as you thought!!

He laughed as your hair fell in your face and got in the way of seeing properly, you couldn’t help but grin and laugh with him as you adjusted your hair so it wasn’t sticking up like you just got struck by lightning.

“That dragon was amazing!!” He said cheerfully,returning back to his regular form and helping you up. “That landing was amazing!!” You said with a soft giggle.

“Um..Luffy who is this..?” A voice then asked, turning your head, you saw it was the girl with the orange hair, Nami if you remember correctly.

Blinking a few times, you noticed that every last one of his crew members were staring at you with their interest clearly piqued. Smiling widely at them, you introduced yourself just as you would’ve done in your original plan.

“My name is Y/N! I have lived on this island for years..and I’m a witch who’s just looking for adventure!” You would say while giving a bow with another small laugh. Just from that little fun ride you had, it had gotten you so shook up and full of energy!

Luffy unexpectedly, gave you a pat on the back which you smiled at. “Isn’t she great?! Hey maybe we can fly three dragons next time!! And their all rainbow!”

“Oooh!!”

A beautiful woman with black hair and the perfect tan let out a chuckle while putting her face in her feminine hand. “They get along quite well dont they?” She said, her voice smoother than chocolate. Now looking at the two women of the crew you’d never seen such beauty! But that little wholesome moment wouldn’t last long as you felt someone gently take your hand.

“Huh?” You Said while blinking and looking down to see who or what just took your hand.

“Oh Mademoiselle~! Your beauty is simply too much! Mother Nature surely has blessed me today for letting me see such an angel! I’m ready to live on this island for you my love! Just to see you every morning~!!!”

The man with the cigarette said in a high pitched voice, he was crouched down on one knee with hearts literally for eyes! your eyes widened quite a bit as you were definitely not expecting that seeing how he acted with Luffy when you first saw him, his blond hair that shined bright than the sun was still so captivating to you..not to mention he was rather handsome…

Should you charm him back?..it was only polite right?..

“Oh my how dashing..” you started while taking his hand with your free one, crouching down on knee just like he did.

“This island barely gets visitors at all but when we do..they really aren’t as handsome as you..if you were stuck by my side I would feel no need to search for any adventure because I’d have you~!” You said, giving him a wink and growing a rose out of if the ground, handing it to him.

Before his eyes even could take notice of it however his nose started to bleed…a lot! So much that it threw him back physically, making him land on his back and gaze up at the sky in shock.

“S-She..she..”

He stuttered out as you smiled, suddenly everyone burst into laughter and you couldn’t help but grin widely.

Yeah these people were definitely safe!! You were sure of it…

For the next half hour, you spent it with the visitors who came by your island. They seemed to like you very much so because they couldn’t keep their eyes off you! Robin was asking so many questions about the plants and herbs you used here, and you answered gladly! Sanji on the other hand kept flirting with you and charming you the best he could, making you smoothies from the fruit nearby (that were completely safe of course.)

Luffy was also bombarding you with questions but about your powers and spells, he told everyone about the dragon you made and you showed them your magic of course with a smile. You even turned Luffy into a mouse for fun! The boy with a long nose named usopp enjoyed that one the most he just couldn’t stop laughing about it!

You also told them stories about your encounters in the island and how you became the witch you are today, of course you had to mention Mother Eve when you were telling that one.

“She’s kind of the reason I haven’t set out yet..she keeps saying that ‘I’m not ready’ but I’m as ready as can be am I not?” You laughed softly with a sigh, putting a flower crown you made on the little reindeer’s, Choppers head.

The crew nodded their heads at you, they seemed to go a bit quiet like they were pondering something greatly..exchanging looks a few times..that just be a pirate thing right?..

Right?

It was now finally sun down and the sound of the fire the green haired swordsman known as ‘zoro’ (who could be a bit intimidating sometimes..)made illuminated everyone’s faces, casting a beautiful orange light in the front, and darkness in the back.

Letting out a soft sigh you closed your eyes,making a nice flower bed for you rest on while gazing up at the stars. Then all of a sudden..

“Hey Y/N?..”

Luffy’s voice caught your attention. You turned your head over to him with a smile.

“Yeah?”

With everyone now looking at you, they all had a somewhat big smile on their face. Zoro though stared at you rather intently..

That grin that could light up a room appeared again as luffy got closer to you placing his hat in your face rather abruptly, you took it and put it on your head with a confused expression.

“Join my crew!!!” He said loudly, staring into your eyes which made you feel there was only one answer optional…

To Be Continued~…

Omg this took so long!! That’s why I’m posting this late lol- but omg I’m so excited for this story!!!! I love it already and I hope you guys do too!! Please let me know! I’m so excited for her to meet new characters and show off her moves even more! I hope you guys are excited too! I don’t wanna make this too long because I’ve been writing nothing but announcements lately, so without further a do I have nothing else to say..for now! Until next time my lovely petals!!❤️❤️💕🌸

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

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Right Person,

Pairing: Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Reader

Synopsis: There are few things more heartbreaking than realizing the bitter truth. He was going to be absolutely extraordinary.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Heavy angst, blood & gore, descriptions of injuries, canon typical, hurt/(no) comfort, major character death

A/N: This was a request, but I just realized the account was deactivated - sooo, I can only apologize to everyone for this lmfao.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You met him when the blood had already stained right through your uniform, flesh going crusty with dried crimson and adhered gore. The skin visible had become a mosaic of horror, and the long fog over your eyes only spoke fractions of what you had seen in the long hours you were administering what little help you could. Soldiers of all colors and backgrounds who, no matter what you happen to do, were never making it in the first place.

Spilled guts—missing legs and arms. And you were stupid. Hopelessly, foolishly, stupid for wishing they would be able to pull through.

How many times have you seen the exact same thing? Scores. How many times had the patient come back? Barely ever.

You had been the only one still awake when he had come into the medical tent, and even then you had been giving doses of dwindling morphine and checking bandages.

“Broken shoulder,” your lips had murmured numbly, jotting down notes onto the clipboard in your hand. The motionless man in the cot below you was barely even breathing, a shiver-inducing jump in his chest was the only indication of life. “Shattered clavicle and internal bleeding of the abdomen from a knife wound.”

You registered the shifting of feet near the entrance, but the lives bleeding away in front of you were far more important. There was only so much you could do with limited supplies and fellow medics that were more tired than dogs after a race. It had been days of recurring assault on camp and you weren't sure how many more people you could lose before reinforcements decided to show up.

A throat awkwardly clears and snaps you from your scribbles of desperately needed medical materials on the top of the patient report page. You blink down at the list with a stiff swallow of saliva and quivering fingers.

That…that wasn’t supposed to be written there.

Shaking your head, you put your pen into one of your vests’ many pockets before moving back towards the entrance, walking the aisle between rows of cots all occupied by the men and women in the worst condition.

“I don’t have painkillers or extra bandages to spare.” Your voice is scratchy and laced with slightly discernible unease. “If it’s not life-threatening, I can’t help beyond stitches and washing out the wound.”

Passing a large shadow that looms in the entrance, you shuffle to your desk and toss the clipboard down to your desk of metal and strewn papers. An empty coffee cup filled with syringe needles that you have yet to discard safely. Unclipping the past patient's file, you send it into the right stack only to take another from the left and set it in place.

Taking only a moment to stare down at it, you place your hands on the desk and lick your lips, breathing shallowly.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, Ma’am.” Scottish—you’d heard one barking orders on the radio over the course of the attacks; leading Marines and planting detonations on vehicles as you had run from one body to another in the background.

Even covered you once.

You remember a hand on your arm and a flash of blue eyes—a mere glance of a look before you had spotted a woman with her entire left shoulder missing from a sniper round. You’d darted off without a second thought as to the brilliant shade of blue and the concern that had lived blatantly in the dilated pupils.

The cross patch on your shoulder felt heavier that day, and every day after, but at least when you wore it you didn’t have to look at it.

You blink back to the present and turn your head slightly to the side.

He was standing a few feet into the tent, holding something in his large hands that you glance at before your gaze slides to his face. Strong jaw, an arching scar over the chin, and a brunette mohawk to go along with the stubble of his lower face. Deep-set brows that inlay with blue.

The same Scot, then.

He seems to shuffle on his feet when you stare at him in tired confusion, not spotting any injuries that would need your attention along the built form of his body. An awkward laugh pierces your heart.

“Ya missed supper,” the man starts, holding up his hand to show you the twin bags of rations he holds nonchalantly. “Had a hunch you might need it, don’t wanna be up and about without a filled stomach, aye? Far past dark, now, y’know.” A pause. “No one’s seen you for hours, Ma’am. Thought I’d check up.”

You slowly bring a hand to your nose bridge and sigh deeply, feeling the digging eyes stuck on you as they crease. Standing straight, the words exit sullenly as your gut twists.

Dark already? No, I could have sworn it was only one o'clock…Has that much time really passed?

“No time, you can have them.” Grabbing your clipboard, you rub at your neck before trying to force back your increasingly heavy limbs.

“I really think you should eat.” Someone whimpers from down the right row, and your head immediately perks in that direction—feet just beginning to carry you over when fingers hook around your upper arm. As still as stone, yet in no way digging into you.

Your head snaps up in shock.

There’s a moment of complete stillness when you're brought back to the familiar instance from days prior, staring up into bright cerulean like sapphires. You don’t know why, but as you focus on this Scot, your shoulders lose some of their tension; lungs find the refreshment of air a bit easier.

It wasn’t a hard face to look into—not covered with blood like yours or your patients’ visages, either. That at least was a blessing. A kind face.

“You dinnae look healthy, Ma’am. Please.” He levels a stare, large head tilted in sincerity with a bare-bones smile forced to his lips causing his scar to shift. You watch it mutely. His hand was warm, so much like a weighted blanket it nearly left your lashes fluttering. “Just a few wee bites is all I’m askin’.”

“I…” you trail, voice gradually seeping out its sure-fire tone and confidence to leave behind a meek resemblance. Glancing at the men and women in your care, your expression tightens. “I can’t be gone long.”

“Ten minutes.” Sighing, you allow the Scot to lightly drag you outside, holding open the fabric that serves as an entrance door before the fingers over your bicep go to rest on the small of your back.

You had yet to notice, but you hadn’t even asked the man his name.

“Here,” handing you one of the two ration packs, you carefully grab the brown object, peeking inside to spy some concoction of mush. Potatoes and veggies, maybe? A small laugh echoes from the man beside you and you turn to look.

It had been a while since you’d heard someone laugh. Your feet almost give out under you from the sound—a deep rumble of thunder. You’re met with a quirk of a lip, though your own face stays in a state stuck between shell shock and panic.

“I’d say it tastes better, Bonnie, but I’d jus’ be lyin’ to ya.”

“It's alright,” you mutter in retaliation, shaking your head before grabbing the plastic utensil sticking out of the goop. But at the moment you can’t seem to force your appetite to you, though your stomach groans to fill it with sustenance.

The both of you don’t walk far—only a few feet to a small rocky area where you sit a respectful distance away and rest your backs on the stone.

You listen to the brunette eat, ravenous, as though a wild boar was only a hand’s reach to your right. Everyone in camp was hungry. So why can’t you just eat? With your legs crossed, you look down at the portion in your lap with roving eyes.

It was all so far removed. The only thing you knew for certain was that there was blood on your hands; staining your clothes and in your hair. Even the chill of the moon didn’t stop the heat at the back of your neck, though if anyone asked you would say you were as cold as snow.

“You know,” the stocky man speaks, and your ears twitch at the sound, “I don’t think I remember what it is they all call you. Price mentioned your file, but I only had time to give it a glance over.”

You tell him and send a small smile over. It doesn’t meet your eyes.

“Ah, that’s it. Bonnie name for a Bonnie girl.” A hand meets your field of view. “Sergeant MacTavish. Soap or Johnny’s just fine as well—m’not picky, least when I know ya.”

Shaking Soap’s hand was a sullen affair. You were sure he could feel your pulse racing; how your fingers shook but for whatever reason the Scot chose not to mention it. On the other hand, simply having the option to feel living skin was a blessing.

“Price spoke of me?” Murmuring, you let your hand go back to your lap, watching the best you can as Soap sends you soft looks as if he knew talking made your throat swell up. “Haven’t seen the man in years.”

“Hm,” the Scot nodded his head, taking the last bite out of his food before folding up the package. “Said there’s not a better medic I’d want along. Figured I should take the Old Man’s word for it.” A sly look is sent your way.

Body pausing, you say nothing as your lips thin, letting a small silence settle before shifting.

Don’t feel like a good medic.

Soap stares at you, watching with increasingly tightening shoulders. He speaks lowly, “Not gonna eat, then, are you?”

A head is shaking before you can stop it, “Not hungry.” You thought you could do this, but all you can think about is the soldiers you had to mark down as KIA; the staggering number that grows and will continue to grow.

It was utter helplessness. A sense of failure in not only your job but in your humanity. Was this not your purpose? To save lives? Why…why couldn’t you?

“It’s not your fault, Hen, you know that…right?” Your breath stills as Soap’s brows pull in, though he already knew the answer to his question. A blind man could see it; his hands twitch in his lap at your numbed expression. “You’re doin’ more than anyone would have expected of ya. Most of the others here owe you their lives, Bonnie.”

Perhaps it was the way your scowl grew at that, or how Soap’s own comradery was taking a hit, but his chest ached at your swift denial of your own skill. He’d seen you work—he knew that if you weren’t here scores more would be in body bags right now. The Scot swallowed and bit at his lip as you spoke.

“Tell that to the stack of deaths that I have to record.” Blue eyes look to the ground for a moment with a clenched jaw. “Doesn’t seem like I’m doing much of anything.”

The night chill wraps around them both like a storm, neither knowing what to say and not wanting to perpetuate the electricity in the air. You take down air through your nostrils as Soap grunts, messing with his hands in his lap mutely. But the utter aloneness is clawing at your throat, and even with this brief interaction, you know the Scot would never force you to speak to him about all of it.

You glare at the ration pack strangled in your grip.

“Three more are going to die by tomorrow. We don’t have the resources.” Johnny brings a hand to his head, running it over the locks before nodding stiffly. But no one can see his heart drop.

“Who?” The words are almost lost in the breeze.

“Silas, Kara, and Edward.” Soap sucks down a long breath as you stare off into the tree line, feeling the hard rock up your spine as you slightly hunch over. “I…I don’t have enough materials to treat them all if we’re stuck here any longer…”

Your trail, but the insinuation is enough. Johnny’s jaw clenches.

“What do you think we should do?” The question isn’t malicious, but rather a genuine inquiry and a plea for an opinion. “If we leave, they’ll pick us off one by one—sure as all Hell.”

“You want the truth,” you speak slowly, seeing a bird dance in the sky to catch bugs in its tiny beak; twirling like a dancer of silver light and sharp wings. Soap grunts an affirmation. “Run.”

Eyes widened.

“...Run? Steamin’ Jesus, run where? It’s all mountains and open fields.” You shrug, shifting your hand to stare at the dried blood in the lines of your palms. It comes out in a low murmur.

“Anywhere—everywhere. Getting taken out one by one for a purpose is better than dying here for nothing.” Soap sees the look with increasing concern, hand itching at the back of his neck in a soothing motion.

“What about the wounded, Hen?” He asks you, and just as numbly, you respond after a burning starts in the back of your eyes. “We can’t leave ‘em ‘ere.”

“They’re all going to die.” Air goes still. “All of them have already gone too long without proper care. Infections are rampant.” You shake now, staring down at your hand with horror; you had always known the truth. Tried to run from it like a fool. “Internal pooling of blood. Failing organs. Necrosis. I’m not good enough too…”

Life was cruel.

“I’m just not good enough.” Your lips waivered, nose burning with smoke as your cheeks go hot with self-hatred. It wasn’t fair.

Johnny was moving before he truly knew what he could do to help, shuffling closer and grabbing at your hand. His grip totally encompassed yours, covering the blood and the sullied flesh from view.

“Hey, now,” he begins, mouth opening and closing as if not sure what to say. He can’t attest to watching over patients and seeing them all die one by one—sure he’d seen fellow soldiers fall, die slow deaths, but never had he had a wealth of skill to know exactly how to help and then see it fail. Johnny’s face pulled tight at the thought; it was horrible the things you’d had to do these last few days. “None ‘O that, ya hear?”

You feel tears dribble down your chin, pitter-pattering into the ration pack as your nose sniffles; turning to stare pathetically into Soap’s brilliant blues. At the feeling of his firm and grounding grip, the world seems to slowly come back into focus—you listen to the pulse that sings under his epidermis like it’s a lifeline.

“I can’t help them—”

“I think what you need is a bit of a rest, yeah?” Johnny smiles lightly, thumb running back and forth over your knuckles, fingers massaging your pulse point. Your eyes go buggy, arm twitching. The Sergeant lets his tone fall, covering his words with sickly care. “Let me get all that off your little face first, though. Can’t have all that covering up your skin—you’ll get sick from somethin’ no doubt.”

As your mouth quivers when it opens itself, whatever sentence you were going to say was halted when Johnny reached for the water bottle held in its pack from the strap on his belt. An already stained rag follows after, and before you can process what’s happening, a damp cloth is swiping at the swell of your cheeks.

Your skin heats, lips close, as your pulse spikes.

Soap looks incredibly focused, taking delicate swipes like a feather along the bridge of your nose as tears continue to slip past your ducts in gross betrayal. But the rag is just as quick to catch them and soft-set eyes to send you a glance. His free hand rubs circles into your shoulder, and you shiver in retaliation.

That…that feels good.

“How we doin’ then?” The Scot’s gentle care was a surprise to you; for such a man as gruff looking as him, you’d expect a comment to suck it up more than this. Johnny pauses his cleaning, face so close you can feel his breath drying the dampness of your skin. His dark brows crease. “You alright, Little Lady?”

“...I’m okay.” It’s a reflex to say it, but the Sergeant knows better.

“No, you’re not.” A tiny smile leaves you shaking again. “Talk to me. It’s just us.” Soap glances to the treeline, trying a hand at a teasing inflection. “Well, and the damned wild beasts.”

A small flex of your mouth’s corner was all he got, but any expression at all beyond agony was a step in the right direction. The Scots blinks quickly, clearing his throat and going back to wipe away the speckles on your forehead. His other hand gravitates to your chin, carefully tilting it as if you were made of glass.

Your eyes flutter shut with a sigh making its way through your nose; gathering what little semblance of yourself you can between repeating memories and the scent of charcoal from the man ahead of you. Fire and dust.

“Are we going to die here?” You ask under your breath, and the sensation of Soap’s swipes stop in an instant. In your inky blackness, the question haunts you.

The Scot gapes at you, wide eyes showing bitter whites around the rim—for once in his life, there was the sensation of a knife sinking into his heart.

“I…” He stutters, only able to respond when he’d swallowed down saliva and stared off into the trees for a moment; desperate to calm down his brain as defiance seeps in. You shouldn’t have to ask questions like that. “No, Bonnie,” Soap states so firmly that he sees your lids peel back upwards, a flash of your color showing only for him. It steels his resolve. “If it’s the last thing I do, I’m making sure every single man left is makin’ it home. ‘Specially you, yeah?”

You stare, and Johnny lowers the rag, hooking his finger on your opposite cheek and turning you fully to him. The heat under your skin makes him want to bring you even closer, but he refrains. A look is leveled, accompanied by a hard stare. Entranced by your gaze as one would be the moon. “We’re getting out of this—alright?”

“You can’t promise that, Johnny.” It’s a whisper.

“You can bet your arse I can!” He doesn’t mean to raise his voice, but the stress is throat constricting as he says your name, “...I’m getting you home, understand? That’s about as close to a fuckin’ promise as anyone can get. Don’t be talking like that!”

But you only watch with dull hope, a comforting smile pulling at your lips for him. Desperation grows.

In your mind, you knew the bitter truth, but there was something you wanted to confide in him—a sensation of utter surety at the extraordinary man touching you; comforting you.

“You’ll be a great Captain one day, y’know that?” You say the sentence like you won’t be there to witness it, and you know you won't. He knows it too. That bitter, bitter, truth.

“And you can bet your bastard self will be at the after-party, aye?” He doesn’t leave room for doubt verbally, though his jaw is tense and his heart hurting. “Won’t have it any other way.”

A hum echoes.

“Do me a favor?” Johnny is nodding immediately.

“Anything.” The look makes him want to cry—so quickly forming a bond with you and your sad eyes.

“Don’t forget me?”

You’re being corralled into a tight hug before you have an answer, hand going to sit at the back of your head with fierce force. But no more words were exchanged that night; no denials or hopeful sentiments.

But worse than that was the fact that you could have been extraordinary together, had only the Gods come down and linked your fates. If only the sky had fallen and the time stalled in that clearing of old rocks and rations. Blood-stained rags and whispered promises that hold no iron. A brief brushing of souls that had instantaneously yielded to one another only to fall back apart. Wrong time.

You were shot dead the next day.

TAGS:

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written-in-flowers · 2 years

Note

Hi! I really love your Otto-writings

Just imagine…

You (female reader) wake up in the night and someone (daemon / Otto / aegon / aemond) is sitting by your bed... drunk and sleepless…

AN/: oooh I liked this one. I almost made the nsfw route with this one, but I've been feeling soft lately, so I made it fluffy. I hope you like it!

Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Targ!Reader (sister-wife, so incest)

***

The Night Before The Rest of Our Lives

It began with a feeling. Your subconscious mind tapped your shoulder to wake you from a dreamless sleep. You knew the hour was late by the pitch blackness outside, and the stillness of the world around you. Yet, even with your eyes shut, you knew something was wrong. Your body instinctively curled into a fetal position as the strange sensation crept over you. Through blurry eyes, you caught a faint orange-yellow glow of a lantern casted on the wall across from you. Your maids doused the fireplace hours ago, and you’d personally put out the candles. Either someone came back and accidentally left it, or someone broke into your room. But, then you remembered the feast, and you knew who it was. Your body suddenly relaxed, and a smile crept on your face.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping, Brother?”

You rolled over to see Aegon sitting at the table slouched in the chair. He wore a vest with the lacings loosened, a long shirt, brown breeches and boots still. You could tell by the pitcher and wine cup, he’d continued drinking long after the celebration feast ended. Hours ago, you and him sat in the grand hall of the Red Keep the eve of your wedding day. You danced, sang, drank and ate together. You both were the young, happy couple everyone toasted and congratulated. For once, people celebrated a happy union, instead of a political one. You’d gone to bed when the feast ended, but it appeared Aegon kept it going on his own. Aegon sitting slumped in a chair with a wine cup in his hand wasn’t unusual to you. In fact, you expected it of him.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he muttered. “Mother was talking to me…something about marriage and duty and honor…”

“Marriage, duty and honor?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, looking into his wine cup, “I tuned her out halfway through. I don’t see what the fuss is all about. We’ll be married tomorrow.” He frowned when he realized his cup was empty. You watched him feel around for the pitcher handle, and focus on pouring into his cup. You heard him groan disappointedly. “You have any wine left in here?”

“No,” you answered, trying not to laugh at him. “I drank it all.”

“What? Without me? Your older brother and your betrothed? Shame!” He let the empty cup fall to the floor and sat back in the chair again. “This time next week, you’re going to have two reasons to respect me.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I’ll be your husband as well as your older brother,” he nodded sagely. He looked around your table to see another wine cup. He reached for it and frowned when he upturned the empty cup. “And as your brother-husband, my first demand is that we have at least two jugs of the best wine in our bedroom. That way, we can get drunk together and then have long, passionate, ravenous sex all night.”

You laughed at his statement, “So, you’re telling me you’ll only lie with me when you’re drunk?” you pouted and batted your eyes.

“Well,” he thought for a moment, “Maybe not entirely drunk…Reasonably drunk…A drink-or-two-or-three drunk, if you will.” He gave up his quest for wine, and remained in the chair. “But, we’ll definitely still have wine in our room. Perhaps we can spill it on each other and lick it off.”

This is how you knew he was drunk: he’d speak very plainly about the obscene, lewd acts he wanted to do with you. You sat up in your bed, knees drawn up to your chest, “Why are you in here, Aegon? Mother’s sleeping in the next room, and she’ll be furious if she finds you in here.”

“Psh,” he scoffed, “As if I care. You’re going to be my wife in…about nine hours or so… Why does it matter if I sleep in your room with you?”

“She doesn’t want you ‘impregnating’ me.”

“If I wanted to ‘impregnate’ you, Sister, I’ve had plenty of opportunities before now,” he said. “Like when we went to Lady Laena’s funeral on Driftmark and you let me put my hand up your dress, or the time you caught me knocking one out in my room and decided to give me an extra hand…In truth, Y/N, it’s you she should be worried about. Not me.”

“I’m afraid she does worry for me.”

Your mother, Queen Alicent, made it clear on many occasions that your actions did not befit a Princess. You liked gambling, fighting, and drinking. You snuck out at night with Aegon to brothels, taverns, pot-shops, markets, and cock-fighting pits. You liked living. You hated the stuffy, silent, reflective life your mother wanted you to live; constantly praying to The Seven and living by the moral codes of pious men in scratchy robes. You and Aegon must always be upstanding, respectable, perfect images to comply with the family image your mother spent years curating for the realm. Any time you and Aegon were caught together anywhere, she scolded you both. Princesses are not supposed to get drunk and dance half naked in a brothel. They’re not supposed to let their betrothed fondle their breasts, or stick her hand in his pants as he did so. You did everything she asked of you. You loved her, and you did your best to please her. You went to her lessons, learned the right skills, and played the princess role perfectly. Aegon made it difficult for her, because he’s much more stubborn than you, so you tried being more compliant than him.

“She purposefully moved into the chambers next to mine to spy on me,” you said. Judging by the night sky, your mother is most likely fast asleep and won’t hear either of you. “She’s been sending that nosey bitch Talia in here to ‘check on me’,” you rolled your eyes.

Aegon smirked, “I don’t think Talia’s going to be coming in here…”

“Why?” you eyed him curiously.

He dug into his pocket and withdrew a key hanging from a white ribbon. You both stared at each other and then laughed. “Your deviance never ceases to amaze me, Aegon,” you said, shaking your head and giggling. “How’d you get it?”

“I bumped into her while walking down the stairs, and picked it from her pocket unawares,” he said, twirling the key between his fingers. “They all think I’m a drunken idiot. I used to hate it, but I realize it comes with lots of benefits.” He turned his head towards the door nearby, then back to you, “They all look down on me.”

“They can’t look down on you. You’re a prince. They’re servants.”

“They do anyways. They all act like they’re better than me. I see how they look at me when I come back from the city; how they try hiding their disgusted eyes and whisper behind their hands. I know they whisper about me. They talk about how I’m not worthy enough to be Father’s heir, how I bring shame to our family, and why does Mother even bother with me?” you saw the despondency in his eyes as he studied the key. You watched him slide the ribbon between his fingers, threading it through the hole at the top. “They act as if they’ve never gotten drunk or fucked a whore in their lives.”

“I’m quite sure at least some of them haven’t,” you said.

“Then they should try it. Perhaps they won’t be so judgemental then.” He continued playing with the key, “It’s why I love being with you. You don’t look down on me. Everyone in our family acts like I’m a nuisance…everyone but you.” He looked back at you, “I can be myself with you.” He hesitated, eyes gazing over your face before he said, “I hope you feel the same?”

“Of course I do, you idiot,” you smiled. “What could make you think I don’t?”

“Aemond.”

“Aemond?”

“And that he’s a better match for you than I am,” he explained. “He’s always reading and training. He rides Vhagar. He…He wants to be king. You should be with someone who’ll be a good king; not a drunk like me.”

You slid off your bed and walked over to him. Aegon let you sit in his lap to hug him around his neck. “Aemond might be tall, smart, and strong, but he’s also a complete twat. He’s not as fun as you.” You looked down at him, pecking his lips softly, “You’re not the only one they look their noses down at. I’m a princess. I’m supposed to be graceful and virtuous like Mother and Helaena. I learned all the skills Mother wanted me to have: I can play the harp and pipe. I can speak three different languages. I can recite religious texts backwards and forwards, and still, it isn’t enough. I know what they say behind my back,” you twirled one of the strings of his vest idly. “They call me a…”

‘Whore’. You’ve never touched another man besides Aegon in your life, yet those little rats in the kitchens called you that. Aegon saw the embarrassment in your eyes, and Aegon cupped your chin.

“You’re not a whore,” he said softly. “You’re a lady…You just like having a bit of fun from time to time. It’s nothing different to what they’d do if given the chance.”

He put his hand around the nape of your neck to pull you close and kiss you. Aegon’s kisses, while full of wine or ale, sent a comforting warmth through you. Suddenly, only Aegon existed in the world. Your hand went through his silver blond locks, fisting some of it to keep his head in place while you kissed. His lips caressed yours open, and his tongue slid between them.

“Can I see them?”

“What?” you laughed, your cheeks heated up. “No, Aegon. Someone might walk in here any minute.” It’ll be harder for Talia to prove anything if you’re both still dressed.

“She won’t. I locked the door behind me when I broke in,” he insisted. His hand left your neck for the neckline of your chemise, “Come on,” he teased, giving it a small tug, “Just a peek? I miss them so much.”

“You’ll see ‘them’ tomorrow.”

“That’s too long,” he whined, peppering kisses on your throat. You giggled at the rough hairs tickling your skin. “Come on, be reasonable,” he continued whining, “I have not touched or come after you for a fortnight. Do I not deserve a reward for my restraint?”

“Restraint? Mother caught you looking through my keyhole a few nights ago!”

“And I could have walked in and finished you off, but I didn’t, did I?” he reasoned. His expression changed back to flirtation, “Not that you would’ve minded. I knew what you were doing in here, you naughty little girl.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you replied innocently. “I was in here reading like any normal princess would be after a long celebration.”

“Oh yes, ‘reading’. You were reading that book you bought from the Lysene girl, and touching that sweet,” he licked his lips, “Warm cunt of yours.” He slid a hand on your thigh, your dress riding up with it. “I saw you looking at one of the pages, your legs spread and your hand between your thighs. I couldn’t see much, but Gods, I could hear you.” You shuddered, feeling his bare hand on your thigh, trailing up and down it while he kissed the other side of your neck. “I wanted to walk right in here and give my beautiful wife a hand.”

“But then Mother came.”

“But then Mother came,” he repeated irritably. “Please, Y/N, let me see them. I promise it'll only be a peek."

"Don't you want to make tomorrow special?" You suggested playfully, enjoying his pleading. "It will have been a full fortnight that you haven't touched me. Wouldn't it be more rewarding?" You brushed your lips over his before kissing him.

"It's already tomorrow," he whined in your kiss.

"Then you only need to wait a few more hours."

Realizing he wouldn't be getting his way, Aegon left his hand on your thigh and rested his head on your shoulder. He'd drunk his weight in wine, rendering him incapable of arousal to begin with, yet the idea of making him wait longer amused you. It was nice dangling yourself over him, watching him drool for you. He occasionally kissed your neck or gripped your thigh, but he knew you'd never give in.

"I can't wait until you're mine," he slurred, sloppy kisses down your chest. "Then, I can have you whenever I wish."

"Oh? Whenever you wish, eh?"

"Yes," he said, lips on your breast, "I'd be your lord husband, and as my wife, it'd be your duty to let me have you as I please."

You laughed, "And what about me?"

"What about you, hm?"

"What if I," you pulled his chin up to look at you, "Want to have you as I wish?"

"There'd be no complaints from me, I assure you, sweet Sister," he gave a lopsided smile and kissed you. "However you like," he continued, "Anywhere you like."

"Aegon…"

"I'll be as rough or as gentle as my lady wife wishes," he said. He cupped your breast through your dress, smiling at your soft gasp.

You shut your eyes as his lips went further down your chest. He hadn't shaved, so the rough hairs on his chin scratched your skin. You liked it. You felt warmth surging between your thighs at the touch of his hand on your thigh. His hot mouth kissed right over your nipple, his teeth grazing it through the fabric. The gentle touches almost broke your resolve, but you withstood it.

"No, Aegon," you forced him to stop. "Is it even getting hard?"

"Not really," he huffed, resting his head on your shoulder. "It must be the wine…my least favorite thing about it…" he nuzzled your neck, smiling when it made you giggle. "Mother said she's surprised we even waited."

"She must've believed I'd be with child by now. I suspect she worried we'd end up in some sort of scandal that would rock the very foundations of this castle. Imagine it, Aegon," you whispered, "A princess who mothered bastards."

He smirked at your meaning. "That would be absolutely scandalous," he agreed, "So much so that our father will cut out the tongue of anyone who dares to speak the truth, even when it sits in his face, white with dark curly hair instead of dark with silver hair."

Your older sister, Rhaenyra, was your father's favorite child. Allowed to skip about and do what she pleased, nobody was surprised when her three sons turned out to have none of the typical Targaryen features. Even though their father and mother both had silver hair and violet eyes. Everyone knew. People are not blind. You only needed to look at Jaceryes, Luceryes, and Joffrey to see the truth. Yet, despite her obvious treason, your father turned a blind eye to her activities.

Though, he certainly never ignored yours.

"Did you see them tonight?" You asked.

Rhaenyra and her sons, like so many other lords and ladies of the kingdom, were invited to celebrate you and Aegon's wedding. A week-long event of feasts and tourneys leading up to the big day, which would end with a banquet of dishes, wine and cake at the end. She'd arrived from Dragonstone with her sons and second husband, Daemon Targaryen. You recalled how happy your father seemed when she approached, smiling and kissing her cheeks. He doted on her sons, who'd grown so much since you last saw them. Your heart couldn't help breaking. He never looked at you that way. Whenever your father addressed you, it was to scold or enforce a matter on you. He'd simply said, "You look lovely, dear," when asked if he thought his daughter looked beautiful. The sting hurts no matter how many times you pretend otherwise.

"Don't," Aegon's voice broke you from your thoughts. He took the hand playing with the lace, and said, "Don't. He's a rotting bag of flesh and bones who doesn't even know what day it is. Don't let him get in there," he prodded your temple until you laughed. "You were beautiful tonight. Everyone said so when you walked into the hall." He gave your hand a soft squeeze, "And you'll be all anyone talks about tomorrow…I think…I wouldn't know. You won't let me see your gown."

"I want it to be a surprise," you insisted. You pressed your lips to his again, "Come sleep with me."

"Oh, I'd love to," he smirked, "If only we’re both naked."

"You can be nude, if you like," you sneered back, standing from his lap, "But I'm feeling a bit of a chill. I might keep my dress on."

"You're a cruel woman, Y/N."

You returned to your bed and delighted in watching a drunk Aegon clumsily remove his clothes before you decided to help. While he made several attempts to undress you as well, you managed to navigate his lustful advances and plopped him into the bed. You’d never ever tell him that seeing him naked did bring back that familiar tingle; he’d never let it go if you did. Finally undressed, Aegon slipped underneath your covers and wrapped you in his arms. The coldness of the bed disappeared in his presence, and the emptiness of the room vanished. As the lantern slowly died out, you listened to Aegon gradually drift to sleep beside you. Tomorrow, you’d be in this bed as man and wife. Tomorrow, Aegon won’t be your silly fool of a brother, but your husband as well. One day, if the Gods are cruel, he’ll become king and you’ll become queen.

What a mess that would be.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x yn #aegon ii x you #tom glynn carney #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd drabbles #hotd imagines #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic

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yunholuvrr · 11 months

Text

we all need love chapter 2.

chapter summary: second day on the job and your heart is already causing you problems

pairing: yunho x fem!reader

genre: workplace au, non-idol ateez, fluff, romance, angst, eventual smut, hurt/comfort

warnings: reader has kinda mean internal monologue lol, let me know if i should add anything!

word count: 2.2k

(previous chapter) (next chapter) (masterlist)

“Woo made me do it,” Seonghwa laughs as you settle into the office for a new day. You hadn’t expected to get all of their phone numbers on the first night, but they clearly liked you enough to consider you a friend.

“Hey! I know when someone’s cool, and she definitely passes the test,” Wooyoung replies to your left. He had been here when you walked in, but clearly hadn’t even turned on his computer until five seconds ago.

“That’s true, you’re really funny y/n,” Seonghwa remarks before walking off to his own desk, “but you can also use it to ask us for help with anything!” Your mind thinks through the first hour of the group chat last night, short introductions turned friendly jabs turned sending memes. You’re actually a bit scared at how quickly they’ve accepted you, but if you dwell on it too long it’ll ruin your day.

“Ah, I do need to meet with Yeosang,” you remember, mumbling mostly to yourself.

“He’ll be up soon, he just takes his time getting his own desk and cup of tea in order,” Wooyoung soothes nerves you didn’t even realize you had. His tone was different, too, and when you look over you see him in full work mode. You’re grateful that he won’t be overbearing while you get into the groove of things.

As Wooyoung promised, Yeosang made his way to your office a few minutes later. After greeting people at the door, he picks up a spare stool and sits down next to you. “Good morning, y/n,” he hums. He balances his laptop on his legs and gets to work logging in. You notice he’s a bit stiff, and he didn’t talk much at lunch or in the chat yesterday, but he doesn’t feel unfriendly. He probably just takes a while to warm up to people, which you understand. “You’ve gotten your Dasoft email already, correct?”

“Oh, yes I just need to log in on this computer,” you refocus on the task at hand. Yeosang said the onboarding process would be kind of long, but simple, so you knew he’d be here for a while. Every time he falls silent to confirm something on his laptop, you can’t help but stare at him. He wore a beige sweater vest today, and even though his hair is quite long, a few strands fall past his ears when he looks down at the screen. He’s such a calm and quiet energy that you find familiar and comforting.

“Someone has a crush,” Woo giggles next to you. You shoot him a confused look before turning back to Yeosang and realizing he has an expectant look on his face. It’s clear he’s waiting for an answer to a question you didn’t hear, and your coworker’s snarky comment makes you both blush ear to ear.

“I know it’s really boring but we’re almost done,” Yeosang recovers. “I just need to check if you have the right software installed, so if you could log back in…” he gestures to your sleeping desktop and you quickly typed in your password again. You know if you speak your voice will betray you so you stay silent for the rest of the process, mortified at Wooyoung’s sudden jab.

One hour and a handful of embarrassing exchanges later, Yeosang is finally done setting up your tech. Before you can properly thank him, Wooyoung jumps out of his seat and stretches. “I’ve been working so hard all morning y/n, do you wanna head up to the meeting room early?” You glance over at his screen and a paused game of Tetris stares back at you.

“Working so hard on a new high score?” Yeosang noticed too, not missing a chance to put his best friend in his place. You had learned at lunch yesterday that although all of them were close, Yeosang and Wooyoung knew each other in high school. Mingi and Yunho were also best friends, knowing each other for even longer. No one in the group seemed to be upset at the dynamic though, and you mentally cringe at the fact that your friends would’ve made something like that a problem.

“Alright, alright,” your coworker threw his hands up, “say it louder so Seonghwa can hear!” Yeosang just smiles, proud of his ability to ruffle Wooyoung’s feathers for once.

“Are you also coming to the meeting, Yeo?” you ask, trying to lighten the mood between you two. You can tell he’s easily the most reserved of the group and you don’t want him to think you have a crush on him on the second day.

“I was gonna take a short break,” he shakes his head, “but I can walk you there. Wouldn’t wanna leave you alone with that troublemaker.”

“I’m literally y/n’s favorite, but okay,” Wooyoung huffs before making his way to the exit. You follow suit, picking up your water bottle and a notebook.

It only takes a few minutes to walk to the fourth floor meeting room, but someone already beat you to it. You walk through the doors while talking to Wooyoung, blissfully unaware of the way Yunho’s standing there, and you slam face-first into his chest. He instantly grabs your forearms so that you don’t lose balance, but you pull away and smooth yourself out, cheeks running red hot.

“Well good morning to you too!” Yunho chuckles, only making you blush more. You don’t catch the way his ears are redder than you could ever be.

“My bad, Woo was just distracting me so much,” you try to play it off, and it works because all three men laugh. More people start to file in and you wave a quick goodbye to Yeosang before making your way to the long table in the center of the room.

“Here, y/n,” Yunho pats a seat next to him, “Wooyoung, come sit next to her.”

“Oh, my pleasure!” Wooyoung wiggles his eyebrows and slots into the seat to your right. You can’t tell if they did it on purpose, but you’re relieved you won’t have to sit next to anyone new. One last person walks in and everyone quickly gets up to greet him. You follow suit, putting together that he’s the highest up employee here, if not the CEO himself.

When you sit back down, Yunho’s hand lands on top of yours, giving you a quick squeeze before resting both his hands on his laptop. His hand is noticeably bigger than yours, not because you’re that small but because he’s just that big. His fingers are slender and pretty, two rings adorning them. The way they move across his keyboard is entrancing and for a moment you entertain the idea of how they’d feel laced between yours. You start to feel heat creep up your cheeks again, and you shove those feelings to the side to focus on the meeting.

“That wasn’t too much, was it?” Seonghwa rests a hand on your shoulder as you walk towards the elevators.

“No, not at all,” you replied. To be honest, it was no different than a class lecture gearing up for a new assignment. The company moved fast and you already had some deadlines, but it wasn’t any worse than school could be. You didn’t want to let him on to that, though, for fear of more work being piled on your desk.

“Good! In that case, we can go on lunch break now. There’s not much else to handle today,” the elevator doors close behind you and he presses 1.

“Is anyone else coming with us today? Same place?”

“I think Jongho and Hongjoong are still stuck in meetings, but the rest of them will meet us,” Seonghwa replies, checking his phone for an answer to your second question, “and the weather is nice out today, so I think we’re gonna check out this new cafe.” He hands over his phone so you can see for yourself. It’s a cute little shop with outdoor seating, and the menu has some things you like. You pass it back over, smiling. “Someday, we’ll have to show you all our favorite spots to hang out,” Seonghwa smiles back, and that fluttering feeling of acceptance you felt yesterday comes back.

Yeosang is already seated at two conjoined tables. You and Seonghwa are the first to arrive after him, and he can’t hide the relief on his face as he waves at you, “Someone else finally showed up.”

“Too scared to order for yourself huh?” Seonghwa teases. You both sit down and scan the menu qr code decorating a box of napkins. A few minutes later the rest of the boys show up and sit down and before you know it you’re all eating and laughing again.

You don’t miss the way Yunho picks the seat across from you. You don’t miss a single thing he does, in fact, his position puts him in your natural line of sight. You don’t mean to stare at his long fingers, the bracelets that slide up his forearms, his pronounced collarbone peeking from behind his polo, his defined cupid’s bow, his crooked smile, his round cheeks, the way his whole body shakes with laughter, his soft eyes that are desperately trying to look anywhere but at you.

Fuck.

You tap back into the conversation before you can be pulled deeper into your thoughts, “hey Hwa, what did you say about showing me around the city sometime?” Maybe getting closer with the others would help you come back to your senses.

“Oh yeah,” he takes a sip of his lemonade, “I thought it would be cool if we showed you around our favorite places. You’re only here for so long and work will ramp up soon, so you should get out of the office.” The table nods in agreement, eager to show off their town.

“We definitely need to take you to some more impressive restaurants,” San replies, half-joking. Wooyoung doesn’t even bother finishing his mouthful of food before suggesting you go clubbing with him. Yeosang slaps him on the head, suggesting maybe we go to a museum or something. Mingi throws out the idea of a movie night instead, but you sense he’s just defending his homebody nature. You look back at Yunho and he’s grinning, waiting for his turn to speak.

“Do you like parks, y/n?” he offers. The group immediately approves of the idea and it seems like they have a specific place in mind. Your plan backfires because you like his suggestion the most.

“When the weather’s bearable,” you respond a little too excitedly, “which I think it will be tomorrow.” His grin turns into a full smile and his eyes light up. Wooyoung starts chuckling and you can’t tell why.

“Tomorrow? Maybe you can take her then Yunho,” Seonghwa smirks, “since you came up with it and the rest of us will probably be busy.” The energy has shifted in mere seconds and you feel like you’re missing out on some inside joke they have. Does Yunho secretly hate parks? Is tomorrow a funny date for some reason? Are they gonna lead you into a city you barely know and then abandon you?

Yunho’s voice cuts through the fog of irrational anxiety, “is that cool with you y/n?” You look up to meet his eyes, and this time he’s staring back at you fondly. You nod, you can’t trust your voice or the way Wooyoung looks ready to make fun of you. “Good, I’ll meet you up in Marketing after I’m done tomorrow,” he visibly relaxes, returning to the sandwich in front of him.

“It’s okay, y/n, we can go clubbing another time. I know you want to,” Wooyoung pokes your forearm, and the conversation goes back to normal.

You finally make it to your bed and take a deep breath. The past 48 hours have somehow felt like a month, and you can’t help but overthink every interaction you’ve had. You swore to yourself you wouldn’t even think about dating anyone while in Seoul because you knew it would end terribly. Yet here you are, the idea of Yunho holding you close and pressing soft kisses to your forehead clouding your brain.

You barely know him, you try to level with yourself, and you find all of them attractive. It’s just an objective fact and you’ll get used to it. Your brain isn’t very convincing, and memories from last year start rearing their ugly heads. You feel so safe and accepted by them already, which is more than you could’ve ever imagined from this internship. If you could just keep yourself in check for two fucking seconds, maybe you could make some good connections here. You can’t let your heart fuck everything up again, and you know it’ll take everything in you to stick to that.

[Jeong Yunho] It’ll be a little warmer tomorrow, so feel free to wear shorts or whatever’s comfortable. Don’t worry about the company dress code

[Jeong Yunho] See you then!

Two short buzzes interrupt your internal pep talk, and the moment you unlock your phone you melt all over again.

Thanks for the heads up!! See you tomorrow :D

Maybe your heart has already fucked everything up.

(previous chapter) (next chapter) (masterlist)

#yunho x reader #yunho fluff #ateez fic #ateez au #ateez series #we all need love fic #yunho series

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maddithefangirl · 1 year

Text

Needing a Date For a Wedding (Lucien x Reader)

Warnings: fluff, written like a part one oops

Prompt: "What are you doing?"//"...Holding your hand."

a/n: let me know if you want a part two because I kinda want to write one

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆. .⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆. .⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆. .⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

It was one week before the wedding of your dearest friends, and you had still not managed to land a date. Just about everyone you knew was either mated or invested in someone. Everyone except your best friend, Lucien.

You had had a crush on Lucien for as long as you can remember, and the best course of action you could come up with was to befriend him, which worked out until it didn’t. There wasn’t a day that went by that you didn’t fantasize about what life would be like with him as your partner.

He was set to arrive from the human lands today, so you thought it as good as a time as ever to go for it and ask him to the wedding.

It was tea time by the time you arrived in the House of Wind.

You had been staying there for quite a while, enjoying the solitude but also the camaraderie that was in the house. Nesta had become a sister to you and Cassian, a long-lost big brother. It was perfect. Except for the fact that you knew it couldn’t last. As Nesta and Cassian grow to need space for themselves, they’re probably going to ask you to leave at some point. It was a sad thought but a necessary one.

By the time you had gotten there, Lucien had already arrived. There he stood in all his glory. His orange-red hair was in a high bun atop his head which made you smile. You knew he only wore it that way on travel days when minimal amounts of people would see him.

He wrapped you in a bone-crushing hug and placed a kiss upon the top of your head, which made your heart flutter.

The wind blew throughout the house, touseling your hair, and as you began to put your hair back in place, he got there first and placed your hair behind your ear. When you looked into each other's eyes, your heart felt free.

“Hey, Loosh,” you said.

“Hey princess, how are you doing?” he said back while lightly grabbing the side of your arm.

“Oh. I’m doing better now that you’re here,” you smiled.

Your talks were always flirty like this, and you couldn’t help but enjoy the fantasy that it made you live in.

You sighed, “Hey, I’ve got a question… Feel free to say no, but I have to know…”

Lucien cut you off, “Hey now, what do you need?”

“Okay, okay. I have a wedding to go to, and I have to bring someone, but you’re the only one that I feel comfortable with, and everyone else is taken, and I may have said that I’d bring a date–”

“Of course, I’ll go with you! I love weddings!”

“Wow, that was a lot easier than I expected it to be,” you said, relieved.

… At the wedding …

You walked into the wedding hall together arm in arm. Together you made a handsome couple, but you didn’t recognize that part. You were wearing a dark silver dress with tons of sparkles, and it complimented Lucien’s green tunic and vest. You didn’t mean to match so well but it just happened.

“So why really did you need a date?” Lucien asked.

“Oh, well, I may have told the bride that I’d bring a date,” you blushed, “I was being optimistic at the time… shows me how wrong I was to do that.”

“It’s not wrong of you. It’s sweet, princess.”

As you waited around during the reception, eyes were on you. Or at least that’s what it felt like. You kept going through what everyone could be looking at, you realized that Lucien had put his hand in yours.

“...What are you doing?” you asked abruptly.

“Holding your hand,” he responded plainly.

You were astounded by that. A deep blush crept upon your cheeks.

“You said you had a date. Let’s give them a show.”

#lucien x reader #lucien vanserra x reader #lucien vanserra #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar

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anemoflower · 5 months

Text

First Meeting

Ship: Wriothesley x Elowyn Word Count: ~ 1.9k Warnings: first time writing a fight scene pls bear with me; again may be ooc (yeah I still haven't played the archon quest in Fontaine yet but still wanted to write this) If there's anything you need me to mention/tag let me know! A/N: Nothing too romantic yet, really just their first meeting... This got a little bit longer than I expected but uhm- I hope you still have fun reading my first vision of how these two met

Sneaking into an underwater prison wasn't an easy task, but thanks to the advantage of her hydro vision Elowyn made it without being caught by the searchlights.

Her research of the current location of the Fatui Harbinger Childe led her to the fortress of meropide, where criminals judged guilty by the court of Fontaine were imprisoned. Accoding to her latest information the 11th Harbinger was recently judged guilty, which meant he had to be here.

Memories of Liyue flashed before her eyes as she was hiding behind a pillar, to not get caught by the guards walking by.

“You seem familiar”, the ginger had said when their weapons crossed in the Golden House. "Have I fought you before?" And then his eyes had widened as if he remembered where he had seen her face already. Her brother's name, just a whisper of realization that had left Childe's lips.

Since this day she hasn't got the chance to interrogate him about her brother. Now she finally found him - but of course there were still some complications. As she wanted to dash around the next corner she collided with something - or someone.

“Can I help you?”

A deep voice, which made her heart flutter a bit. She looked up and her gaze met a pair of ice blue eyes. She had run into a tall man with black hair, a few silver streaks carved through it. There was a little scar beneath his right eye. He wore a gray vest, a loose red tie around his neck. A dark grey coat with a crimson lining and dark fur trim around the collar hung around his shoulders. But what caught her attention was the shining silver dog's-head brooch on his vest.

“I haven’t seen you here before,” he said.

Elowyn tried to stay calm, although her eyes darted around the corridor and avoided eye contact. “I’m new here, today is my first day as a guard” she replied hastily.

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Is it common now that new guards sneak around here without their uniform?” Heat flushed into her cheeks. “Who hired you exactly?”

Elowyns mouth turned dry and she realized how stupid this lie was. “Uh… I…” Snippets of conversation from the last few days ran through her mind. Were there any names from the fortress she could use to win some time? Then she remembered the two guards at the entrance talking with each other. It wasn't a name they mentioned but a title. “I've been hired by the Duke” Elowyn said confidently and adjusted her posture.

He looked at her in surprise, but still unconvinced. “Is that so?” He crossed his arms, bandaged in some black fabric, in front of his chest. The chains of the dog brooch clinged. “Well, I’m the Duke and I think I would remember you.” He didn’t sound angry, rather confused and intrigued about why a random woman would sneak into a prison.

Now she couldn't hide the confusion in her face anymore and frowned. There were many images in her mind of someone called a “duke” and… a man with multiple silver stud and cuff earrings and tall black boots wasn’t really one of them. Was that dog brooch some kind of symbol she didn't recognize? Then she noticed the silver handcuffs hanging from his belt.

Oh. Shit.

There was no way for her to talk herself out of this. She started her mission to get into the fortress without thinking, without further research beforehand. Elowyn felt embarrassed about herself. That wasn't what she was trained for the Knights of Favonius before. Of course she wasn't trained to be a spy, she was a fighter, but her emotions got the better of her and made her act careless.

A little smile lifted the corner of his lips, as if he would look forward to what lie she would try to tell him next. He seemed to be rather amused by this situation.

Elowyn let out a deep sigh and said: “I’m terribly sorry about this! I just need to interrogate the Fatui Harbinger who’s in here. He has some very important information for me.”

The Duke didn't say anything, just tilted his head in interest, to signal her to continue.

“He knows where my brother is… he disappeared many years ago, I need to find him.” Her voice sounded more desperate than she wanted to. So many years she was hoping to find her brother, her family, and now she was so close to finally reuniting with him again, to find out the truth about his disappearance. Even if it might hurt her in the end. She swallowed the tears, which were slowly trying to crawl out.

Something shifted in the Duke's eyes. The serious look turned to a sentimental softness and it made a strange warmth grow inside Elowyn’s chest. Paired with her racing heartbeat she watched him, waiting for another reaction. He looked down rather thoughtful and pointed to the hilt on her belt.

“Can you use that sword?” he asked.

She followed his gaze and replied hesitantly: “I uhm… yes, of course.”

“Would you show me?”

Her eyes widened. “You- you want me to fight you?”

She looked at his quite muscular arms still crossed in front of his chest. She had fought Fatui Skirmishers twice as tall as him. Exhausting battles, but not impossible. Still, she was sure it would be problematic for her to win in a fight against him. Not because he might be stronger than her but because of that damn tingle in her belly.

“If you wanted a fight against me, you would have already started it.”

Fair point.

Then he led her to a hall with a big circle platform in the center of it. Soft rays of blue light from the underwater outside shone on it through the gaps of a huge ventilator. The grey coat flew gracefully behind him as Elowyn followed the Duke the steps upward the platform. “I want you to fight this.”

He pointed to a tall humanoid machine made of silver and golden plates of metal, which already awaited their arrival. Elowyn remembered this kind of thing, Clockwork Meka's were all around Fontaine, made to serve as laborers but were eventually modified for combat purposes. Now she recognized what this strange hall was supposed to be. It was a battle arena.

“Is this some kind of test?” She looked at him confused.

“You wanted to start working here, right?” A cheeky crooked smile. “This is your qualifying exam.”

“My what?”

“Would you prefer to speak directly to the Harbinger in another way?”

Elowyn understood what he meant by that. To avoid getting thrown into a prison cell instead, she straightened herself and entered the arena.

Graceful like a dancer on ice, the Clockwork Meka drew their sword, a long sharp extension of their left arm, and swung it around.

Also Elowyn on the other side of the arena raised her sword and prepared herself for attack.

The machine rushed forward, too fast, Elowyn didn’t get a chance to parry, the next second she tasted blood in her mouth.

Metallic sounds of crossing blades echoed through the hall.

She took a step to the side, dodged their attack in a flowy movement and struck the Meka with her sword. As soon as the blade touched the silver metal, Elowyn felt a stinging pain rushing through her body and purple lights dancing in front of her eyes.

A wave of pulsing lightning threw her through the air. She crashed against the railling of the arena, collapsed on the floor, panting, some kind of electricity still pulsed over her arms.

Clockwork Mekas were able to use a certain amount of elemental energy. This one could cause electro damage.

Another purple light of lightning flashed through the Meka’s sword before it rushed down on her.

Hydro energy flowed through her weapon and made it glow in a shimmering blue light, while she blocked. Blue and purple sparks of light danced around them. She shoved forward, ignoring the pain, pressing all her weight against the Meka’s weapon. It stumbled.

She focused all her elemental power at once, her sword pierced through the air, waves of water crashed down on her enemy and didn't give them a chance to parry.

Glowing tears of water caused by her hydro attack floated through the air around her, followed by the last little sparks of purple electro magic, which lit up her face.

Elowyn caught a short glimpse at the Duke, who was watching her every move. Even more adrenaline pumped through her body now.

She parried another strike of the Meka, pushed their weapon to the side and sliced the point of her sword through her enemy’s chest plate.

With that last strike, it broke down. Elowyn fell on her knees with an exhausted groan and shoved some wet hair strands out of her face.

“Impressive” the fortress’ administrator walked towards her, each of his steps caused a metallic sound echoing through the hall. And she saw an expression on his face, which surprised her. He smiled. “May I ask where you learned to fight like this?” He offered his hand to help her up on her feet again, which she accepted.

Elowyn wiped a few drops of sweat from her forehead and tried to catch her breath again. “Mondstadt. I am-” she hesitated and corrected herself “I was a member of the Knights of Favonius.”

An understanding nod from the Duke. “You can start right now.”

Elowyn blinked at him. “Wait, what?”

“You can start here as a guard” he further explained “I want to see if you really mean it. I can’t risk it if something goes wrong, so I will keep an eye on you of course. Then I can see what I can do to let you talk to the Harbinger.”

Elowyn couldn't help but smile. Her victory in the battle and the feeling to be another step closer to her goal let her fall into euphoria. “Thank you… uh- your Grace.”

“It’s Wriothesley. And you are…?”

“Elowyn.”

“Well then, I'll first introduce you to Sigewinne, she can treat your wounds, you still took some serious hits.” He wiped some blood off her cheek with his thumb and Elowyn immediately backed away as her face heated again.

“It's nothing, really…” she murmured, looking down on the floor.

“Hm.” He leaned forward, face inches apart from hers and said in a low serious tone: “Wait ‘til you fight the sea monsters, that try to take over the fortress.”

She looked at him in shock, stared at the scars on his neck and forearms, asked herself who or what could have caused them.

Wriothesley grinned. “Just kidding. Although I'm sure you could deal with a sea monster.”

"Why are you doing this?" Elowyn asked. "Why do you hire me despite knowing that I want to talk to a Fatui Harbinger?"

"If you would be one of the Fatui you were better at lying."

Elowyn pressed her lips to a thin line with a nod. Wriothesley's eyes softened again. "I could see that this is very important for you, otherwise you wouldn't have done all of this." He looked over to the Clockwork machine on the ground. "Let's say this is your trial to prove yourself."

He turned around and waved over his shoulder to indicate her to follow him.

"I bring you to the infirmary. Do you like some tea while we're at it?"

Taglist:

@jils-things @soveriegns @huggsbury @satoruswaifu @lovinglin

[Please ask if you want to be added or removed]

#oc x canon #genshin impact oc #genshin oc #;my writing #;Wriowyn #;FrozenHeartShipping #;wriothesley #;oc: elowyn #(I'm scared to tag this properly)#I'm SO nervous sharing my writing bc I don't write in english often #BUT I can create bad english writing to get better :>#More Wriowyn lore I LOVE THEM OUGH #(should do more art of them tho)

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chirpsythismorning · 2 years

Text

This whole “OOPS we forgot Will’s birthday” fiasco has led casual fans to conveniently refusing to read the subtext for Byler.

Like they can just write off all of it because I guess nothing means anything anymore now that the Duffer’s have admitted to forgetting something so easy to remember.

But what if that was the intention? Like we know the Duffer’s have this tendency to make Byler scenes readable from many different lens’. We see this in the way, that when we have a solid argument supporting endgame Byler, anti’s manage to come up with a long list of other possibilities, and I think the Duffer’s intend it that way.

They want the doubt of the ‘will they won’t they’, to last for as long as they can.

But then this also got me thinking about how I was convinced that them forgetting Will’s birthday was a lie. And how them jumping in right away to come up with this big elaborate story about how they’re going to retcon it, could have been a way for them to steer fans away from easily figuring where the story is going in s5.

Because plenty of us have seen evidence that there is footage that wasn’t used for s4, that is likely going to be used for s5. With Noah at the Rink-O-Mania location with his outfit he wore all of Vol 1-2, or that shot of him in his room looking out the window, or the actor for Lonnie attending the s4 table reading, or Noah wearing a harness???

These are things that could very well involve this concept of Will or maybe even Mike and El, being forced to readdress that day, which was in fact Will’s birthday, through some sort of vision from Vecna.

I know no one believes it’s possible that everyone forgot Will’s birthday within the story, or like why wouldn’t Will himself come out and admit it to remind people instead of suffering in silence?. But if Vol. 2 taught us anything, it’s that Will is the most selfless son of a bitch on the planet, and he would no doubt refrain from telling anyone if they all forgot.

This leads me to believe s5 will explore this conflict in the first two episodes, which are supposed to be set directly after the events of Vol. 2.

They’ve set up this situation, where Will is feeling as low as he can possibly feel, to the point where them forgetting his birthday is nothing compared to everything else going on, but it definitely adds to the pain he’s feeling. And they’ve also set up for everyone, Mike specifically to slowly become aware of all of these things that they forgot or glossed over.

Like we’ve been discussing how it’s inevitable that Mike is going to find out about Will’s feelings, but what about that in combination with him finding out he forgot Will’s birthday?

There’s going to be so many things piling up as amo to not only make Will’s suffering so blatant and heartbreaking, but for Mike to realize and be on the verge of a mental breakdown…

This is going to wreck Mike. And I’m convinced that they probably did have the intention to put this stuff in s4, but either ran out of time, or decided last minute they wanted Byler to be more subtle before going all in, either from Netflix themselves advising them to save it so they don’t lose viewers, or because they themselves knew this was the best decision. (Remember when 4x09 was said to be 2 and a half hours, but got cut to like 2 hours and 19 minutes a week before it premiered…?)

Why else does the s5 plot give us like 2 episodes worth of the s4 conflict continuing, only to have a time jump early mid season?? Like it’s clear that Mike’s realization is going to happen during this time and they’re saving it for when the audience only has one more round of tuning in.

Also, what I’m sort of scared of is what causes the time jump around 5x03 in the first place.

I’ve seen so many theories that Will’s costume in s1 was similar to Marty Mcfly’s, and how this season we see a similar costume with the plaid and long sleeve under, but without the vest.

Along with Will’s FUNKO POP touching his watch, we were talking about how there was this possibility that he could somehow travel back in time back to that day he went missing or he might sacrifice himself and change the course of the future by changing the past somehow, maybe by never being found?

We know the day he went missing is the same day that the upside down is stuck in. So time is important and it also has to do with Will most likely.

I know time travel is something a lot of fans don’t want for valid reasons, but I can’t think of anything else that would cause such a random time jump after they just had us stick with the Vol. 2 plot line for two episodes?

Unless maybe Will’s powers are addressed (if he even has them) and he somehow sacrifices himself to the past aka the upside down to save everyone.

This could also cause some conflict and tension if Mike just discovers Will’s feelings and the audience becomes abundantly clear that Mike returns those feelings, only to separate them and force us to end up right where we started with S1.

Although I hate the concept of Mike and Will being separated all season, it doesn’t necessarily have to be all season even, but I think this approach would create an undeniable appeal for everyone watching.

Did you miss Mike Wheeler from s1?? Well he’s back and he’s more himself than ever trying to get his best friend and now LOVE back.

Personally I love angst as long as it leads to a happy ending, and with how a lot of the cast have been talking about the ending of ST being beautiful and wonderful for YEARS and with the Duffer’s just admitting recently that they already have the last 30 minutes of the series finale well planned out… makes me think that all this pain and uncertainty is going to be worth it..

#byler #stranger things #will byers #mike wheeler #stranger things spoilers #stranger things theory #stranger things spoiler #stranger things theories #byler st #byler evidence #byler theory #byler proof #stranger things meta

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foosybit · 10 months

Text

Mayoi in PriPara Outfits Part 1

this is a suuuuuper long post cuz i did 2 drawings for about 20 outfits????? so here's the best ones so u dont miss anything by not actually going thru them all o7

but woooo !!! basically i've been on a long journey rewatching pripara very slowly so it's kinda seeping into my brain so i wanted to mess around with what outfits mayoi would go for if he went 2 pripara !! if u want a teal eyed version that also isnt split into parts, heres my pixiv post

last few things to say b4 i start, hello 3 pripara fans on my account, no boypara outfits cuz i didnt grow up with that (the last op i remember is the 6th one and i dont think im anywhere near that yet in my rewatch), honestly i have no clue if there's even proper boypara outfits??? i just know it exists idk anything about it, and if u see placeholders thats cuz i wanna keep the 3 image layout, thats the only reason why lol. and outfit descriptions will go below the art of the outfit. ok time 2 start !!!!!!

Petit Devi from Holic Trick Classic !! this was the first one I did back on.... Janurary 2nd lol. I have yet to see Mayoi in a bright pink but u know what, my executive decision says he deserves it. hi 3 pripara fans on my account again, i should also say most of these (like this one) will be from the arcade stuff cuz i just picked stuff i liked from the wiki's coord list

Sexy Girl from Holic Trick cuz Mayoi's the sexiest girl i know !! from now on all the coords will be from Holic Trick (an in-show brand) cuz 2bh w y'all i mostly just browsed Holic Trick for this whole series of drawings cuz im not going thru all those dam coords. although i've done 2 short skirts so far i do think mayoi'd like longer skirts more, but pripara likes short skirts more so so be it o7

Gothic Check !! the grey shirt and black jacket is kinda giving fs2 4star vibes so this would be the fs2 4star if enstars were cool (wore pripara outfits)

Modern Coffee Maid !! I was thinking of maybe changing the color but i liked the way the orange contrasts with the purple making it look kinda halloweeny :] I also have a personal bias towards brown i luv that color !! but ya if i had 2 say, he'd probably be a 3star if this were a set, kinda vaguely fits him but not enough to be under the spotlight imo

Classic Trump !! Sophy actually wears this in the show and i think it's so cute i wonder how the other alka members would style the vest in their own way (im 2 lazy 2 do that myself yawwnnn) in fact mayoi himself would probably prefer longer sleeves but u kno, stayed tru 2 the original n stuff, anyway say hello to bright pink again mayochan

Sparkling Jellyfish Sophy !! hi kanata hi fish wife hi nata hello nata hi nata whats up nata i love u nata

Nin'Nin Among the Water from Baby Monster !! when i saw this outfit i was chained to my tablet the demons were holding me hostage i had to make the ninja association wear it or i'd suffer a public execution

My Design Holic Trick !! back to holic trick for the rest again :] this is the one i posted on its own hehehehe it's still the one i put THE most effort into (which is why it's the only one i bothered to sign, still dont repost the rest tho please and thank u im just lazy) cuz man its a vibe its so good its one of my favs still i love stupid shorts and the puffy sleeves with the cropped vest and black and purple and the heart and bows and keys which are kinda all reasons i also like mayoi (heart in mayois vibe comes from his big heart muah) bless u mayoi i luv u

Night Navy !! mayoi loves to kill artists in cold blood with random intricate patterns (or maybe thats just an enstars thing in general) so i knew i had to give him this dress. gave him an undershirt cuz what if he gets cold :[

And that's it for this post !! I've now reached the image limit, so see ya in the next post !! (sorry foosybit followers for triple posting i didnt realize i drew so much)

#mayoi ayase #enstars #foosys art tag

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professionallydeadinside · 1 year

Note

For the fic thing:

”It’s to fucking early in the morning to be alive let alone active.”

“It’s too fucking early in the morning to be alive let alone active.”

“The train leaves at 5:00am. And you’re dead, you don’t need to worry Yurei-san.” Etsuko buttoned up her shirt and lightly brushed any lingering dust from her skirt, the ring she’d found two weeks ago safe on her ring finger.

Two weeks ago, that’s when she learned the train she worked on had suddenly derailed and crashed into a local community. Etsuko thanked her lucky stars that she hadn’t taken that late shift her coworker had offered.

The ring itself was a bit of a mystery. Curiosity had gotten the best of her and she had gone down to the site of the crash, surprised to find it bare of any authorities. There, laying perfectly untouched on a collapsed part of a building, was a gold ring.

She didn’t know what compelled her to take it. It was like the aura surrounding it begged her to take it, to stop it from getting compacted into trash. So she took it, putting it on to find it fit perfectly.

That night she dreamed of pink and purple lights flashing, of blood on every wall of the tight confines of a train car, of a person’s face staring off to someone behind her. She woke up in a cold sweat and a ring that wouldn’t come off.

The longer she wore it the clearer the face in her dreams became. It reached out to her like it was trying to make a connection, its amalgamated words turning into sentences. The blurry edges of its shoulders turned more and more solid, until Etsuko could see it entirely.

It was a young man, his curly hair falling in front of crazed, bloodshot eyes. A wound on his neck gaped and pulsed with every breath he took. His vest and button up were covered in blood, but Etsuko found she wasn’t afraid of him. Especially after he began talking to her, she found him to be welcomed company.

“I still reckon you could sleep in more.” He grumbled as Etsuko slipped on her shoes and headed out the door of her apartment. She didn’t have a car, so she was glad the station was within walking distance.

“I wouldn’t want to be late. I’m the first person there.”

“The first person there should be that fat bastard.” Etsuko smiled at the crude nickname the Yurei had given to the new conductor. Who, if she had to admit, wasn’t nearly as good as the conductor of her previous train.

“What’s on the docket today?” He floated a bit in front of her as they made their way underground. Etsuko checked her phone’s notes app where she’d typed up her hours.

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Normal day.”

“Makes my job easier.” The Yurei’s ‘job’ was to just keep the concessions organized. Etsuko learned early on that he proved to be a handy resource for ratting out any people who had tried to nab a snack without paying. How he was so good at it, Etsuko had never bothered to ask.

Stopping at one of the hot drink vending machines to get a coffee, Etsuko checked her phone to see they were still early.

“Yurei-san? Do you want to steal a can from the machine?” She put in the number for her drink but paused when she realized the spirit hadn’t responded. She turned to see him looking off into the distance. Etsuko followed where the spirit stared.

He was looking at a man she’d been seeing more and more often lately. He had dyed blonde hair and a train sticker stuck to his phone. He lingered at the stations but never seemed to get on, like something made him fear them and pulled him to them all at the same time.

“Yurei-san?” She whispered. He didn’t reply, just watched as the mystery man double took anytime a tourist passed him.

There were a lot of things the Yurei didn’t tell her. He didn’t tell her his name, if he even remembered it. She didn’t know what he was doing on the train when it crashed. She didn’t know who had given him this ring that was so important to him it had a piece of his soul connected to it. But did he really have to? He was dead and she was the only one with a lasting piece of him. The least she could do was try to reunite that piece with someone who knew him in life.

“Do you know him? I could try and give the ring to him?” Etsuko gently pulled the Yurei towards the man. “I could cut my finger off.” She squeaked. She really didn’t want to, but if it was the only way, then she was willing.

He shook his head, silently watching as the man began to leave but doing nothing to pull Etsuko towards him, even stopping her as she tried to coax him to walk to the man.

“Don’t do that, love. Just thought he looked familiar.” The spirit sniffed and wiped away a bit of blood that always seemed to bead at his forehead.

The horn of the train sounded. Time for work.

“Well!” He straightened out his vest and turned to smile. She knew it was forced, but it was a start.

“Wouldn’t want to be late for our job now would we?”

Etsuko smiled and squeezed the ring around her finger, hoping to some degree that the Yurei could feel it.

#tangerine bullet train #bullet train #my writing #answered

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ryker-writes · 11 months

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New Day

Jaxon Crowley's masterlist

The first day of his new conditions...

Jaxon didn't get much sleep last night. Even if it was supposed to be his first night without using his magic...old habits die hard.

To his credit, he did fall asleep for a little bit. Only about three hours, and it wasn't good sleep. his thoughts seemed to keep him awake for hours before he even got to sleep, and after he did, they managed to get into his dreams.

In his dream, he was accepted into the school, but he was still an outcast that no one interacted with. People still avoided him and hated him no matter what he did. And on top of it all, he had no one.

It seems like even when he doesn't use his powers, he still gets the nightmares. Or maybe it's still remnants from when he used it last. He can't be sure. Either way, he decided he would rather use his magic again than continue to face the nightmare multiple times in one night. And he used his magic, and he didn't sleep for the rest of the night.

But he had to at least get ready for school in the morning like a normal student. Which meant wearing his school uniform.

Usually he just walked around the school with his normal black shirt and jeans. Even before he got expelled, he never wore his uniform. But now that had to change. He had to admit, it felt strange to wear the Savanaclaw yellow vest, but it fit well enough. He even loosely did the tie so it was on, but not right up against his neck. It felt like he had more room to breathe that way. By the time he was done getting dressed, he almost looked like an actual student of Night Raven College.

He tried to leave to get to his classes, but was stopped before he was even able to enter his class.

"Oi. Look at me."

Jaxon sighed and turned to face Leona. And the beastman did not look happy at the sight of him.

"How much did you sleep last night?"

"Had a tough time sleeping. That's all."

"You don't expect me to believe that, do you?"

"You can't expect me to get a good nights sleep after over a year of barely any."

"No. But I can expect you not to use your magic."

Leona then turned towards Jaxon's classroom, and started walking inside. Jaxon followed him inside, but stopped when he realized who Leona had decided to talk to; the Heartslabyul housewarden.

Jaxon kept his distance while they were talking, but kept an eye on them. He watched as the Heartslabyul guy seemed almost panicked for a second at whatever Leona was saying, but quickly regained his composure. He nodded at Leona, and the two started to approach Jaxon. Then, without another word...

"Off with your head!"

Jaxon almost choked on his spit at the sudden sensation on his neck. The cold metal of the collar surrounded his neck immediately, and he felt all of his magic be immediately cut off. He could remember that this happened when he overblotted, but even then it didn't feel like all his power was gone.

"Leona..."

Everyone nearby could tell Jaxon was annoyed just by his tone, and the Heartslabyul housewarden scurried off to his seat. Leona just smirked at him before leaving.

"Enjoy classes Jaxon."

Isn't it ironic? This is almost what Jaxon wanted and yet it feels like he's being punished. Early in the morning having to pay attention to Trein's lecture, wearing the stupid uniform, and now not even being allowed to use his magic...

The life of a student.

Silver watched as Jaxon sat down with the collar around his neck, and the frustrated expression on his face. He'd heard about what happened, and he wasn't scared of Jaxon. But he knew not to push it either when it comes to him. He tried before, and got shut down. So he figures Jaxon needs a more patient, slow approach when it comes to connecting with him. And Jaxon already seemed to be having a rough day, so he wasn't going to push it.

Classes went just about as well as one would expect that first day. He didn't understand much, and barely got any notes taken, but he tried. He tried, and that was the most he could offer for today. For once, that seemed to be enough for everyone.

#jaxon crowley #twst oc #jaxon crowley lore #things getting better

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 7 months

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little snippet from my next Rory x Price fic, this one isn't smutty, but it is them meeting again after five years:

Ducking under the blades, the shadow of each one cutting through the sun as it broke through the dense cloud cover above, Laswell pulled open the door of the helicopter. “Head inside,” she said with a tip of her head towards the waiting entrance into the vehicle, raising her voice to be heard over the engine.

Climbing in, Rory turned her head and noticed another soldier sitting in one of the seats, already strapped in. His face stern as he shifted, adjusting his hat, the overwhelming scent of cigar smoke drifting from him. Scratching at his cheek, his nails dragging through the thick fuzz of facial hair, he glanced over at her and then turned back to Laswell who took the seat across from him. "I assume this is the one, Kate."

"Yeah, John, this is her.” Laswell pulled on the front of her coat as she sat back and got comfortable. “Sergeant Sinclair, meet Captain Price."

Rory's brow furrowed for a moment at the name. It was familiar, but she couldn't pinpoint how. Was it one she'd seen in a report?

Steely blue eyes measured her up as she strapped into her seat. "Nice to meet you."

The memory hit her. The bathroom stall. Her stomach dropped, realizing just how she knew the name. Price. Jesus.

His face was nearly recognizable beneath the facial hair that hadn't been there the first time they met. His voice had become more gruff, lower than she remembered. If the smell of cigars she was getting off him was any clear indication, she was sure that was why. She swallowed down the embarrassment that threatened to burn at her cheeks as she looked at him, gauging his reaction to her name - if he recognized her the way she suddenly did him, he didn't show it.

"Good to meet you too, sir," she said. Her gaze fell to her hands, remembering how it felt when he held them five years ago. Trying her damnedest not to look at him, she preferred to appear nervous over the mission and not the man who had suddenly become her commanding officer.

Tugging at the tactical vest he wore, Price tilted his head back and looked out the window as the helicopter began to move, the inside shaking as they lifted up off the ground.

There was no backing out now.

#skelly wips #cod fanfic #captain price x female oc #oc: rory sinclair #captain john price #ship: you are the sword to my shield

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inklessletter · 1 year

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Sacred spot

I am sorry, I'm late with this, but I've had the craziest couple of days! I hope this is okay! Thank you @steddie-week for organizing this.

Also, I hope this okay, but I made two versions of this.

This is the first one. The long one. This is the other one.

Day 4 - Hurt/comfort

To Dustin, whose blood boils in his veins anytime he comes across some sort of hate towards Eddie, even with him gone, it makes a big difference when he finds out that in the last stall (the one with the broken lock) of the men’s restroom nearest to the school gym, someone has taken time to messily cross out every insult, every sick lie, written down about him.

His lip quivers the first time he notices that someone besides him is mourning him enough to do so. That dirty, unsafe stall becomes almost a comfort place. When everything is just too much and it is hard to breathe, he goes there, if only to remember that there’s someone out there that is sick of the hate, too.

It feels like a sacred spot.

Dustin suspects that it might be Gareth, or Jeff, or Liam. They were their friends. They loved him. They should be missing him, too.

When he reads the first message that is not crossed out, he realizes that it is not, indeed, another insult.

this town owes you an apology

Even if a bit smelly, when Dustin fills his lungs deep with air from that restroom, it feels like the first sunny day after an especially cruel winter.

He doesn’t tell anyone that he keeps coming back to read that sentence over and over again when he’s overwhelmed. He doesn’t expect to find more sentences written all over the stall every few days.

black leather jacket + battle vest

you rocked silver like no one

thank you for teaching kids to live unapologetically

you wore the freak title with pride

i am sorry i didn’t get to talk to you before

most metal dude ever

i we miss you cursing like a sailor

There even are little short stories from this person, and Dustin knows it is the same one because of the handwriting.

i am sorry i thought i knew you because i knew of you. i totally didn’t.

you were not what they say you were. you were kind and honest and fun.

you were NOT a murderer

It is the third time Dustin reads “i am sure you were an amazing dungeon master” when he realizes that whoever is writing this was not in Hellfire.

It is the “i wish we got more time to know each other better” that baffles him.

It is the “i was too dumb back then to know for sure, but even if it is late, i want to let you know that i liked you, eddie munson” that has Dustin gasping for air.

It is the “don’t worry. i am taking good care of your sweetheart” that makes him feel like his heart is sinking.

But it is the “i know you did it for him. he is safe now. i would have done the same” that finally makes him understand who is the one vandalizing that stall with love messages.

And Dustin cries his heart out.

---

@mentallyundone

#stranger things #steddieweek2023 #hurt #comfort #sad #dustin henderson #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

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detroit-grand-prix · 2 years

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Wildest Dreams Chapter 21 - mad woman, part 1

Chapter summary: The first half of Bee's first F1 season brings mixed results, and doubt starts to creep in. An issue with the car that needs to be dealt with.

Content warning: N/A

Chapter word count: 4,636

Author's Notes: When I wrote this chapter, I had read an interesting interview with Jamie Chadwick about modifications and physical limitations of (average) female drivers, which may come in to play when we have a woman reach the grid. And it's absolutely true that even road cars are not designed or tested for women, but I feel like at least in F1, this is a systemic problem - they make modifications for drivers that are too short or too tall, so I feel like it would be possible to modify a car for a female driver. They've made modifications for Yuki Tsunoda, who is 5'2", the same height as Bee.

Red Bull Ring, Spielberg, Styria, Bezirk Murtal, Austria July 6th, 2020

After Bee finished her first Formula 1 race, she felt a giddy adrenaline high for hours afterward. Through all of the phone calls with her parents, with Susie, through the celebratory dinner that Emilia made, she felt fine. But, by the time she’d gone to bed on Sunday evening, her back, neck, and shoulders felt so stiff that she could barely stand up straight. She took some nurofen and tried to stretch a little and figured she’d feel better after a good night’s sleep.

That was not the case. She could barely move. It took her almost five minutes for her to get out of bed.

She sent Emilia a WhatsApp message and told her how bad it was, and asked what she should do. Emilia responded and told Bee that she would be right over.

“Well, you are really seized up. If it took you that long to get out of bed, I doubt we’ll be able to get you over to the garage where my massage table is, so we’ll have to make do right here.”

Having Bee lie on her bed wasn’t ideal, with it being so soft, but Emilia thought it would be easier than trying to get Bee onto the floor.

“Well… I think you’re in for a rough day.” Emilia said, palpating the tender cords of muscle around Bee’s back. We’ll just try and minimize inflammation and have you rest for today. I’ll get my kit and some ice packs from the garage, and then you’re going to take it easy.”

She returned about 10 minutes later, carrying a box that contained what looked like an overly large ice pack and a few rolls of KT tape.

“Do you have a favorite color, for the tape?”

“Not blue.” She wore enough blue as it was.

“Pink, then.”

“Perfect.”

Emilia laid the ice pack across Bee’s back, over the shirt she was wearing. It felt good. She thought about the cooling vest that she wore during hot-weather races, but imagined that it didn’t get cold enough to ease pain and inflammation.

“I ran into Aleix while I was over there - I think that’s his name, George’s performance coach? In the garage. He said George went through this last year for his first couple of GPs, but he just had to build up to it.”

“Oh. Well, that’s unfortunate.” Bee didn’t actually remember George being in so much pain when they went to Australia last year.

“There’s only a week between races, and last year there were two weeks between them. I don’t understand, I did more laps at winter testing than I did yesterday and felt fine.”

“Well, winter testing was before you had an unexpected three month break, you probably just deconditioned more than you realized. Tomorrow, we can try some trigger point massage. That will help. Today is for rest and minimizing inflammation.”

After 20 minutes of icing, Emilia applied a web of KT tape across Bee's shoulders and upper back, and helped her get up to sit at the table and eat something.

“Do you want me to stay here and keep you company?” Emilia said, as she was helping Bee back into her bed. “I don’t have any other plans today with you… what’s the English expression… ‘out of commission’?”

“If you want to. It’s up to you, and I certainly won’t say no to having company.” Bee said. “I was just going to read, and probably nap. And then we have the all-team debrief this afternoon, but we were doing that by Zoom anyway. But… please don’t feel obligated, if you want to go enjoy having a day off.”

“I’ll stay. I don’t know what else I’d rather be doing anyway.” Emilia said with a smile.

They chatted companionably for a while with Bee sitting up at the head of her bed with her back against the wall of the motorhome, and Emilia sitting at the foot of the bed. Eventually, Emilia made lunch for the two of them and left Bee to take a nap before the team debrief.

She felt a bit better the next day, at least enough to get over to the garage so she could lie down on Emilia’s massage table and not on her bed. Emilia carefully took the tape off of her back did some release of her “trigger points”, whatever those were - they just felt like knots to Bee. Emilia used intense, focused massage to release them. Emilia had incredibly strong hands, and Bee was close to crying a few times, but she felt a lot better afterward.

Emilia re-applied KT tape to her neck and back after she’d finished up. “We should have put some on this past weekend after all. We’ll make sure to do it before your sessions this weekend.”

Bee had started feeling better at the end of the week, but qualifying day had brought heavy rain. It delayed the start of qualifying by almost an hour. Bee was nervous - it had been a long time since she’d driven in wet conditions. Wet qualifying was especially precarious - in some cases, you needed to push harder during qualifying than during a race.

Everyone was aquaplaning, but there was no major incident until an Alfa Romeo lost control into Turn 7. George was able to push through and make it to Q2, but Bee only managed to get 18th. She was honestly just happy that she didn’t end up in the wall.

The rain had cleared up by the morning of the race, which Bee was thankful for, though it may have been advantageous to Williams’ points chase to have rain - Bee wasn’t entirely confident in the rain, but George was excellent at it. Bee joked with him that it was because he grew up racing in awful English weather, and she didn’t.

Bee and Emilia did their usual warmups, but Emilia spent extra time on trying to loosen up Bee’s neck and shoulders.

“You’re still a little tight today, but not like you were at the beginning of the week.”

Bee hissed a little bit as Emilia kneaded the heel of her palm into her trapezius muscles. “Are you sure your harness or seat doesn’t need to be adjusted or something?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? Why? Everything felt fine during my last seat fitting."

“Well… I know they try to build the cockpit around you in the cars and the seat itself is custom-molded, but… if everything was fitting you the way it should be, I don’t think you would’ve had this much trouble. You’re also the shortest driver by a long shot, and the other driver on your team is one of the tallest. I think maybe you’re trying to adjust yourself while you’re driving to see better, or something, and it’s causing all of this strain. I’ve seen this kind of injury before during my internship. Every time, the patient was a shorter woman, and they get this kind of strain because they’re always having to stretch their necks to see over the hood of their car. Believe it or not, a booster sort of… cushion is recommended in those cases.”

Bee thought about it. It could just be strain from not racing for several months, but she knew she worked every bit as hard as other drivers during the break to stay in fighting form, and they didn’t seem to be experiencing the same issues as she did, at least not to the same degree. Maybe the long break just compounded with an issue with her harness or the ride height of her seat that hadn’t been quite so noticeable before.

It was just one more irritating concession, one more adjustment she had to make, one more sign that she was a square peg in the round hole of the motorsport world. For another example, she was the only one on the grid that had to wear a bra under her fireproofs. Her Williams fireproofs were white, and a little bit on the transparent side. Her breasts were fairly small, but not wearing a bra was uncomfortable because of where all of the belts and harnesses laid across her chest. She used to just wear a regular beige sports bra under her gear, but she started wearing a fireproof Nomex bra when she started testing for Williams to avoid running afoul of FIA homologation requirements for clothing. The problem was that most fireproof Nomex bras that were available were black, so in most lighting conditions, you could see her bra showing faintly through her fireproof undershirt. It was a little embarrassing, but there was nothing to be done about it.

“I’m not sure what can be done about it right now, but I’ll mention it to the engineers when we get back to England. They have more tools and materials in the factory, and can re-fit my seat there if they need to.” Bee said.

Next week they’d be in Hungary, so there was no time to head back to the UK before then.

It was not a bad race. Neither George nor Bee could claw their way into the points, but it was close again - George in P12 and Bee in P13. However, there was no denying that Williams’ performance, overall, was on the upswing from last year. It had a noticeable effect on the energy in the garage, too. Last year, it was incredibly dour most of the time, like the team had never recovered from the shame of arriving to testing two days late.

But going into Hungary, they were energized, like a fresh spring breeze had swept through the garage. Bee and George talked about it - he’d noticed, too. For both of them, it was good motivation - the Williams staff were all wonderful people, and they deserved to see the fruits of their hard work instead of fighting at the back of the grid. Of course, every team worked hard, but this was still racing.

Bee’s neck and shoulders still hurt after Sunday, but not quite as badly. Even without any adjustments, at least the extra support offered by the tape helped a bit. Now that Emilia had called her attention to it, Bee did notice that she was straining her neck for a lot of the race, especially on straights, to see over the nose of the car. She also noticed that she had to stretch her legs a bit for the pedals. She wasn’t sure if it could be brought forward because of how the seat was bolted into the car’s monocoque, but solving the issue of height would probably do wonders.

When they arrived in Hungary and started setting up the garage, Bee pulled one of the engineers aside.

“I don’t know if this is possible, but… can my seat be adjusted a little, as far as the height goes, or would that be a significant disadvantage as far as our times go?”

“Hmm… we could probably bolster it a bit. Not by much, but it shouldn’t have too much of an effect since you’d still be behind the halo. Why?” He said.

“I think it’s just… I don’t know, I feel like I’m having to stretch a lot to see over the dash, and it’s putting a lot of strain on my neck and shoulders, and with the long break, it’s been way more noticeable than it used to be.”

“Oh, yeah, I suppose that is a concern.” The engineer said. “I don’t know if we can do much about it right now, but once we’re back at the factory, we can definitely take a look. And we can re-fit your seat if we need to, when we’re back there.”

Bee was a little bit worried that her concern would be dismissed, but it wasn’t. It felt nice.

Hungary was another wet race. Qualifying had very light showers, so there was no need for intermediate or wet tyres, and finally - finally her and George had both made it out of Q1 and into Q2. They were both eliminated in Q2, but it was Bee’s highest grid placement yet, and according to Gaetan, the first time both of the Williams had made it out of Q2 since 2018.

Even so, Bee made a poor strategy call regarding tyre choice later on, opting to stay on intermediate tyres far longer than she should have, which dropped her back down to 16th. Gaetan asked her if she wanted to pit for slicks, but she was sure the track wasn’t dried off enough yet. She still wasn’t sure how far she should go to take risks - feeling out risk versus reward was something that would only come with experience, and she didn’t have much of that yet.

It wasn’t an ideal result, but for the third race of the season, she was still mostly glad she hadn’t managed to shunt the car yet. George once just outside of the points once again, finishing 11th.

On the bright side, she told herself, her neck didn’t hurt quite as much after.

After they returned to the UK ahead of the Silverstone doubleheader, the engineers were able to cut a new base for her seat, and re-molded a new seat for her. They also made a different pedal case that ensured she wouldn’t have to try and stretch so much to reach the pedals. Things felt better the instant she sat down in the car after the engineers had made their fixes. She was surprised that she hadn’t noticed how poorly things were, but that was something else that would come with experience. Doing free practice and test sessions didn’t really give her the same sort of feel for the car as an actual race would have, which is why she could tell the difference now.

One they’d returned to the UK, Emilia also started some more work on strengthening Bee’s back muscles to support better posture - they’d focused so much on her neck in trying to get her back in shape during the long break that things were getting a bit out-of-balance. The factory gym was still closed, so they did some pilates mat exercises in Bee’s apartment in Oxford.

It was strange to be back in the apartment after so long - nothing had really changed, as she’d thrown away anything perishable before she left and didn’t have any houseplants left to die of neglect, but there was a pretty significant coating of dust all over everything. That was easy enough to take care of.

The special helmets she’d ordered had also arrived - one for the German Grand Prix, and one for the Italian Grand Prix at Monza.

The doubleheader at Silverstone was strange. The first race was somewhat of a disappointing performance for Bee. She qualified dead last and was buoyed to 15th in the race by a few retirements and a decent overtake on Romain Grosjean. The next week was another race, named as the “70th Anniversary Grand Prix”. Qualifying took place on her birthday, which was a stark reminder of how strange the timing of this season had become - for the past few years, her birthday always took place in the middle of the summer shutdown.

The Williams staff had a very small celebration for her birthday after qualifying, though, with some cake and ice cream. George brought her a “Colin the Caterpillar” cake, which apparently was somewhat of a tradition for British children’s birthday parties. It was a swiss roll cake with a chocolate shell, candy dots, and a white chocolate face and feet. She’d seen them before in Marks & Spencer but hadn’t realized it was some sort of tradition. She’d qualified 15th to George’s 12th, and placed 19th to George’s 18th. It wasn’t an ideal home race for Williams, but the team was still optimistic, and so was Bee - she didn’t know how her luck would play out compared to her past racing seasons, but after Spa and Barcelona was Monza.

At Spa, the team motorhomes were back in the paddock, which meant that Emilia was freed from her cooking duties - having access to the team motorhomes meant having team kitchens and kitchen staff again. Also, they had access to proper driver rooms again instead of having to use a makeshift space with temporary walls in the team garages.

Bee loved the Williams’ motorhome - it was all pleasing gray, white, and blue with modern lines. They also had access to the little patio again, where Bee spent a lot of time sitting in the sun and reading during her time as a reserve driver. One of her favorite things to do during downtime on race weekends was sit on the patio, weather permitting, reading a book and people watching up and down the paddock.

After the first practice session in Belgium, Bee was sitting on the Williams motorhome’s porch, trying to read. They’d set up a little outdoor seating area with some garden furniture. If there were guests and sponsors here, it might have almost the atmosphere of a garden party, but for now, it was just Bee staring into space with her thumb on her place in her book (Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel). Her eyes had started to cross a little, so she decided to give Thomas Cromwell and Cardinal Worsley a break for a moment. She was looking down the paddock, not really at any one particular thing, her mind wandering, until someone saying her name snapped her out of her reverie.

“Hi, Phoebe. How are you today?”

She shook her head a bit. “Oh, hi, Valtteri. It’s nice to see you. How have you been?” She hadn’t actually seen him walk up to the porch, and he’d startled her a little.

“Not too bad, considering this strange season. I feel a bit bad for you, joining F1 during this mess. Can I join you for a few moments? I feel like I haven’t talked at all since you were at Mercedes.” Valtteri said.

There was an empty chair across from her, and she didn’t think anyone would get upset - they’d be close enough to two meters apart. She gestured for Valtteri to sit down, and he did.

“Absolutely. I feel like I haven’t really talked to anyone all season, other than George. It’s certainly not how I’d imagined things going.”

Valtteri was wearing a mask, but his eyes crinkled a bit as Bee imagined him smiling. It probably wasn’t a very big smile - Valtteri wasn’t the most expressive person Bee had ever met. He was a stereotypical Finlander in every sense. Quiet, reserved, polite, but not very talkative. It surprised Bee a little that he’d stopped to chat with her. “It’s unusual, that is for sure. Aside from that, how are you liking it? Being in Formula 1, I mean.”

“Well… some days I wake up and still can’t believe I’m here, and I get to do this every day. Other days, maybe more often than not right now - it feels like I lied on my resume and got the job anyway, and now I have no idea what I’m doing, and it won’t be long before someone realizes it.”

“What do you mean? I think you’re doing great for your rookie season.”

“I haven’t scored any points yet. And I know that George went all last season without scoring one, but the car was… a mess, last year. And we’re at one of my worst tracks this weekend.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it too much. I think your performance has been very impressive. P11 for your first race, after an unexpected break and a late-starting season? It’s very impressive. You definitely have the talent, and getting the points and everything - that will come with time, and experience.”

“Hmm.” Bee looked skeptical.

“I joined Williams in my rookie year, too, and I only got 17th in the standings. And the car was decent, then. The next year, I was 4th. I just had to get some laps under my belt, and things started coming with time. They will for you, too.”

“It also doesn’t help that my teammate is… I adore George, but he has so much just… I don’t know, more of an instinct for this than I do. I guess it doesn’t help that he already has an entire season under him, so I’m trying not to compare myself to him, but it feels difficult, especially because I competed with him in GP3 and Formula 2.”

Valtteri chuckled a little. “I have a six-time world champion as my teammate, so I definitely know the feeling. But you two seem to have a very good relationship, so that’s really the challenge. Even if you don’t think you have the talent or instinct he has, you can learn from him, at least. I’ve learned a lot from Lewis through the years.”

“That’s a really good point.”

“But, even then, you know, your time will come. There is a lot of this season left. There’s a saying we have in Finland - “Paistaa se päivä risukasaankin”. The day will shine even into a pile of twigs.”

Bee stared at him. “I have no idea what that means.”

“I think it has a similar meaning to ‘every dog has his day’ in English. Something like that. But, don’t stress it - the points will come eventually.”

Autodromo Nazionale di Monza, Monza, Province of Monza and Brianza, Lombardy, Italy September 6th, 2020

Despite there not being fans in attendance at Monza, Bee was still all too happy to see the place again, even with empty grandstands. She was not ever sure how or why, but she’d just developed such a fondness for the place. It was probably her past race successes, sure, but it felt like something more than that.

Spa had been a race to forget for Williams. George retired from some debris from a crash damaging his suspension. Bee fought her way up from 19th in qualifying to 12th. She was trying to take Valtteri’s advice and be patient about her results - George hadn’t scored a single point in his rookie season, but the fact that she’d been so close to doing so was starting to grate on her.

The fact that Williams had points now was an improvement over last year, though, and it meant they weren’t in last place in the constructors’ championship.

Bee arrived at the track on Wednesday to film some promotional videos for Williams. Adam, the social media manager, wanted to capitalize on Bee’s reputation at Monza that she’d earn in the junior series. He told her they were going to make a video of her doing a hot lap in a GT car with a passenger.

This wasn’t an uncommon video for teams to make for their YouTube channels, but normally it would be a driver taking a celebrity or other F1 luminary around a track. With limited access to the track, though, the social team thought it would be fun for Bee to take Emilia out for the lap. Emilia didn’t seem like she was terribly thrilled about the idea, but she was a remarkably good sport about it.

Adam said that he would have George take Aleix out around another circuit this season for a similar video.

They secured a crimson red Mercedes-AMG GT R for Bee to drive, and gave them both an open-face helmet to wear. It was Emilia’s first time wearing a helmet that wasn’t a bike helmet.

“This feels weird. It’s squeezing my head.” Emilia said, trying to fix the strap under her chin.

They stood outside of the car, leaning against the hood, for the introduction. The ‘cameraman’ (someone from the social team with a camera - these weren’t meant to be super-polished videos) gave Bee her cue that he was filming.

“Hello, I’m Phoebe Stallard, from the Williams F1 team, and we’re here at Monza today! We’ve been given this gorgeous AMG GT R to use for a hot lap around the Monza Circuit. This is Emilia - she’s my performance coach, and she’s never been in a race car. This is one of my favorite tracks on the F1 calendar. I’m gonna take her for a hot lap around Monza!”

Once the technician adjusted the harnesses and Adam made sure the interior cameras for the car were working, Bee turned the car on.

“Are you ready, Emilia?”

“What if I say no? Can I get out?”

“No. You’ll be fine, I’ve done a lot of laps here. Consider it revenge for making me do so many split squats and deadlifts. Oh, by the way… did you know I have the lap record here for Formula 2 cars?”

“That… doesn’t really make me feel any better.” Emilia said.

Bee smoothly guided the car off the pit lane, up to the starting line. “Are you ready?”

“I guess so?”

As she blasted off into the first chicane at the end of the pit straight, Emila hollered, and braced herself against the console and door. “Oh my god!”

Bee laughed. “I asked if you were ready!”

Around the Curva Biassono, and into the Variante della Roggia, Emilia seemed like she might have been having a little fun, until Bee cut around the Curva di Lesmo, which was a blind corner. Emilia’s tentative, nervous laughter turned to yelling again. The Curva del Serraglio was wide and sweeping, so Bee used it to pick up speed before coming up on the Ascari chicane.

“Okay! Fast curve, coming up. Get ready!”

“Nnnnooooohmygod -”

Emilia barely had time to re-orient herself again as Bee sped toward the Parabolica.

“Ready for my favorite part?”

“What -”

“Here we go! Parabolicaaaaa!” Bee said, her voice sing-songy.

Into the Parabolica, Bee hung onto the very edge of the racing line, just like she did when she went for her lap record. She wasn’t trying to show off, not really. She just couldn’t help it. It put Emilia back in her seat. She was still yelling.

She coasted over the finish line, and Emilia was laughing. It wasn’t really the kind of laughter that indicated enjoyment, but more the kind of laughter one does unwillingly, trying to relieve tension after an incredibly stressful situation.

“You good? Do we need to go get you a new pair of pants?” Bee said, grinning.

“That was… wow.”

“I didn’t tell you this beforehand,” Bee said, “But this is one of the fastest tracks in the Formula 1 calendar. It’s also my favorite though, so I don’t think you had anything to worry about. I hope you at least had a little fun, because I had a lot of fun.”

“It was… something. Something I don’t think I’ll do again.”

Bee couldn’t stop laughing, and felt a little bad at being so amused. She didn’t think Emilia was actually afraid - she told Bee that she did have some adrenaline junkie tendencies, but she certainly hadn’t known what to expect.

Finally, it was qualifying. Bee was excited. Practices were the first chance she’d gotten to drive a Formula 1 car in Monza. It was almost better than she could imagine, with the high-downforce setup they put on the car for this track, it felt like she could hang on to the absolute edge at all times. Her practice times were downright decent, ending up in 8th in Free Practice 3. It was a good sign for qualifying.

She almost dragged the car into Q3 by sheer will, only missing it behind Pierre Gasly by a couple of tenths. George also got into Q2, but it was the first time Bee had out-qualified him all season. Another double Q2 for the team was worth celebrating, and a good sign for qualifying turned into a good sign for race day.

#f1 fanfic #f1 oc fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #original character #female oc #female f1 driver #toto wolff #george russell #my fanfic #series: wildest dreams #susie wolff #claire williams #valtteri bottas

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korissideblog · 2 years

Text

decidedly entering my goofy era <3 Aito and Konekomaru's first date <3 part 1

[konekomaru by the spectacular @you-may-call-me-meme <3]

Aito wasn’t used to being nervous.

Though he described his feelings towards Konekomaru as a sickness he enjoyed- this felt like something much worse. Aito noticed his hands shaking a bit as he combed his hair for maybe the 3rd time in the last hour, trying to fill the time till she was expected at Konekomaru’s door.

She had planned this night for a bit longer than necessary, but after Konekomaru’s rushed confession, she felt like she needed to make everything extra perfect to make up for it. Not that she disliked his outburst of a confession, not even for a second- in fact she was insulted that you would even insinuate that. The gall.

Because in truth, Aito liked Konekomaru. He really liked him! And… that was kind of the issue here. Aito wouldn’t be so nervous if she didn’t care about him- but he also wouldn’t be going through all this planning if he didn’t care, so… maybe this nervousness was good? Maybe it was a sign of Aito really really caring about something- about someone.

It would be an interesting topic to bring up to her mother when she saw her next; he’d definitely need to remember it. She’d remember it better if she wrote it down- but! Her hair still needed fixing for a fourth time, and her makeup for a third, and her shirt for the fifth, and the flowers for a ninth, and her shoelaces for the second, and her jewelry for the eighth, and-

And suddenly she looked at the clock and it was 6- it was 6! She was supposed to be at Konekomaru’s door at 6! Aito quickly snached the large bouquet of white flowers and sprinted out the door, jumping up the stairs two at a time and springing down the hall, only giving herself a second to breathe before she knocked on Konekomaru’s door.

Aito had always had a fondness for how Konekomaru dressed outside of his uniform. Always drowning in a large sweater and pants, always looking so comfortable in everything he wore- his confidence in his fashion was something Aito really admired about him, even before she noticed any sort of feelings she may have had for him.

She was expecting a similar look for tonight- for some odd reason she hadn’t even considered the fact that he would also dress up for the occasion, and was a bit blindsighted by his outfit. In retrospect, though she would have been just as happy if he had dressed completely normally, when seeing him in a loose red sweater vest and slacks- she decided that definitely preferred him all dressed up.

“Hey! Aito!” Konekomaru said, waving a bit awkwardly as Aito waved back. “I was worried you were gonna be late- ah but it’s cool! You’re here now!” he said, Aito looking just over his shoulder and noticing the time- 6:11. ugh.

“I am!” Aito chirped, quickly shaking off the embarrassment. “Oh- I got you these!” He said, quickly holding out the bouquet of flowers only to notice that it had shrunk to almost half of its original size. Aito blinked in surprise, quickly turning his head when he realized… maybe running with very delicate flowers wasn’t… his most inspired idea.

“Oh, Aito-“ Konekomaru laughed as he noticed Aito’s mistake as well, the hallway floor lightly dusted with rufflely white petals staring back at the demon- as if only to spite her.

“Thank you Aito, they’re beautiful.” Konekomaru said, accepting the slightly desecrated bouquet and holding it gently- as if even when ruined, it was something to be cherished. “These aren’t roses- Carnations maybe?” He guessed, closing his dorm room door behind him, seemingly trying to distract Aito from the mess.

“I think so.” Aito hummed, shoving his hands into his pockets as he fell into place at Konekomaru’s side, scowling at the petals that littered the hall. Haru was gonna give him hell for that later. “I can’t remember. Mustn’t have been that important.” He shrugged, starting down the stairs; distracting himself by trying to fall into perfect time with Konekomaru’s steps. “Do you like them- or- would you have liked them if they weren’t… you know.” Aito gestured to the stairs in front of them, frowning as the petals continued to meet them at each step. This wasn’t what Aito had planned for. Things usually fall right into place for her, but, for some reason the universe seemed pleased to collect on her good karma tonight of all nights.

“I like them.” Konekomaru chuckled, holding the bouquet in his arms and seemingly unaware of the couple of petals that continued to flake off behind them. “Even like this. The thought was sweet; and it’s the thought that counts.”

That was possibly the stupidest thing Aito has ever heard. Who would ever actually think that? If a gift sucked, then it sucked, even if it was given with the best intentions of it not sucking. Konekomaru must be privy to Aito’s perfection. Even if things seem to go wrong, Aito would eventually reveal things to actually have been perfect the entire time- a gift of her’s, really.

How Aito was going to fix the flowers is… yet to be seen. Just because things go right, doesn’t mean Aito understands them immediately- just give her time! Time and… and maybe a lot of tape- or glue… or just general adhesives to hold the petals onto the flower. He’d need Konekomaru distracted for a long while if he was going to collect all these petals- “Aito” not to mention actually putting them back onto the flowers, that would take an actual eon to accomplish. “Aito” and Aito wanted to actually enjoy tonight! Not just distract Konekomaru while she tried to wrestle with plants! “Aito!”

Aito blinked back into reality to finally notice the deep scowl on her face, immediately returning to something more neutral as she looked to Konekomaru- somehow having already left the building and standing on the sidewalk outside. “Are you alright, Aito?” Konekomaru asked, walking to meet her on the sidewalk- he had held the door for her, what a gentleman. God, Aito had the best taste in men. “You seem… somewhere else.”

“Oh- no I’m good! I’m-“ Aito reached for something, as if to prove her statement, only succeeding in grabbing the front of her shirt. “I’m… yeah I’m here.” He said, laughing a bit nervously. “It’s just the flowers- they were supposed to be perfect.”

Konekomaru looked again at the bouquet, a petal falling gracefully to the ground as if to prove Aito’s point. “I like them.” Konekomaru repeated, holding them just a bit tighter. “That’s all that really matters, right?”

Aito shrugged, catching the next petal that fell. “Perfection by proximity.” He mumbled, tossing the petal back onto the flowers, as if it would help anything. “Hard to be ‘by proximity’ when they’re everywhere except for where I want them. But the point stands.” Aito sighed, finally deciding that if Konekomaru liked the flowers, then he'd stop giving them thought. Tonight wasn’t about plants anyway, it was about showing Konekomaru that she could be the perfect boyfriend- and that didn’t require flowers that were perfectly intact. “Ok! Ah, first is dinner!” Aito said, more to remind herself than to tell Konekomaru her plans. “I got a reservation for us- you’re gonna like the place I chose.”

Konekomaru laughed, nodding in agreement. “I’m sure I will, Aito!” He said, smiling as Aito grabbed his wrist and led him down the sidewalk.

_________

“Overbooked!” Aito barked, leaving the restaurant in a huff. Konekomaru looked up from where he waited, sitting on the curb. “It’s an hour wait time- who the hell would overbook their restaurant! The point of a reservation is to get around this kinda thing!” Aito complained, meeting Konekomaru and sitting next to him.

“Were you polite to the staff?” Konekomaru asked, a bit worried.

“Of course I was.” Aito said, crossing her arms. “It’s not their fault if their boss makes them do something- but why would anyone in their right mind make their staff overbook!”

“Well, it’s a business thing.” Konekomaru shrugged. “Businesses know that not everyone will show up for appointments and reservations, so they sell more than they can actually supply. Think of an airline; about 50,000 people get bumped off their flights every year, and airlines do this on purpose. They use statistics from past flights to figure out how many tickets they can sell- too few and they lose money, too many and the penalties get too high. Let’s say airlines do a study over a couple of years and they find that 90% of people show up to their flights. If there are 180 seats on a plane, and they sell 180 tickets, the most likely result will be only 162 people will show- meaning 18 empty seats. If they sold 198 tickets, then all 180 seats would likely be filled, and the airline makes the max amount of money. They’ll pay the amount to deal with passengers that were bumped off, because in the end they're still making more money by doing this. It’s the same thing for restaurants, they expect a certain percentage of people to not show up for their reservation, so they overbook to compensate for that. This just seems to be a mathematically improbable night, where a large portion of the reservations actually showed up.”

Aito blinked boredly, briefly reconsidering whether or not he actually liked Konekomaru.

After a moment or so he decided that, yeah, she liked him- strangely detailed knowledge of airline ticket selling strategies and all. “Ok… but I’m not willing to wait an hour for dinner.” he said, trying to think of a way to speed this up. Maybe he could charm the other guests into giving him their reservation? Konekomaru may not like that too much- not to mention staff may notice something suspicious going on. He was already in hot water with Sato sensei for “convincing” the owner of the flower shop into giving him the maybe-carnations at an extremely discounted rate.

“What about takeout?” Konekomaru asked, pointing vaguely down the road. “There’s a place nearby, I think you’ll like the sashimi.” he offered, standing up from the curb.

“I wanted to take you somewhere special.” Aito complained again, accepting Konekomaru’s extended hand as he helped her stand up.

“I’d call it special- if we both like it that is.” Konekomaru said, smiling. “And if we don’t, then it’ll be a nice story, right?” Aito looked on with consideration. The perfect girlfriend would find a way out of this- not give up immediately and get takeout. But… Konekomaru said he liked the restaurant, and the perfect girlfriend would be attentive when told their partner liked something. It wasn’t like she was really giving up, he was just being given an obstacle. The best way around most obstacles is the most obvious- so maybe she wouldn’t be blamed if she gave into the idea.

“Ok then- takeout.” Aito said, doing her best to hide her mild disappointment in not being able to follow through with her original plan. They both noticed suddenly that even after Konekomaru had helped Aito up, they… hadn’t let go of each other's hands yet.

They both flinched away at the same time, Aito’s hand going to scratch the back of her neck and Konekomaru’s hand finding its place in his pocket.

They both laughed at the interaction, but still looked away for a second, wishing the other would finally break the silence.

“So! Sashimi!” Konekomaru said, turning and walking down the sidewalk- still not looking at Aito.

“Yeah! I’m starving!” Aito agreed just as awkwardly, jogging a bit to catch up with Konekomaru’s pace… also keeping her eyes squarely away from Konekomaru.

#aito takao #bnha oc comeback #knha // kimi no hero academia #konekomaru yoshino

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lobster-tales · 2 years

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Promise

Zutaraang Week 2022 Day 1 @zutaraangtastic

Modern AU - Aged Up Characters

This work is available here on AO3.

CW: Language

By the time Katara remembered to send the ‘On my way home’ text, she was already there.

She slumped back against the wall of the elevator. The nice thing about coming back to the apartment so late is that she usually didn’t have to share the ride up with anyone. Mirrors surrounded her. She had checked her appearance in them that morning, nearly… spirits, 12 hours ago? Katara groaned to herself, making note of the changes in her visage: her braided hair was no longer neat, but frizzy with activity. Her shirt had a weird stain on it: who knows when that got there. What little makeup she wore seemed to have disintegrated, only a faint wisp of purple eyeshadow remaining.

The exhaustion really began to set in as she entered the hallway. Her briefcase was heavier, since she’d chosen to bring her work laptop home. More so as a precaution - she (hopefully) wouldn’t need it. Not after staying after hours to grind through all that paperwork.

There was the door to their penthouse–no doubt her husbands were waiting for her. That’s how everyone referred to Aang and Zuko: legally, she was only married to Aang, but it made little difference when the three of them had been in a relationship for so many years.

Katara fought through the haze in her brain as she tried to remember what day it was. Tuesday or Wednesday, right? Which day was Aang’s day to cook? Which one was Zuko’s?

She slipped the key in the lock. It didn’t matter who was cooking, just that she would open the door and smell that heavenly aroma of-

Cologne. And just cologne. Well, it was late after all: they probably ate without her and packaged up the food. A reheated meal was better than no meal at all.

She barely had time to set down her briefcase and brace herself before Aang rushed her, wrapping his arms around her waist and hoisting her high into the air. “You’re home!” he crowed, squeezing her tightly.

“Aang!” she laughed, pretending not to like the attention.

When Aang stepped away, Zuko was there, his back against the wall, head bowed, arms crossed. It wasn’t like him not to greet her, or at least give her a nod of recognition.

But Katara didn’t care if he was grumpy: she was too tired to play into it. “Hiiii,” she said, trying to catch his eyes.

He answered, but didn’t meet her gaze. “Welcome home. Finally.”

Finally? The word pricked at her. She opened her mouth, prepared to unleash her day on them: the meetings, the paperwork, the coffee spill on her shirt.

But Aang spoke before her. “You want to shower first before we go?”

“Go?” she asked, confused. “Go where?”

Then it clicked: the cologne. Katara realized her husbands were both dressed up: Aang’s mousy brown vest over his white shirt, sleeves rolled up around his elbows. Zuko was more formal, a full black suit concealing the crimson collar of his shirt.

Aang’s response had a tinge of disappointment. “To… the restaurant?”

“It’s Thursday,” Zuko said abruptly, less so a reminder than a reprimand.

“Shit,” she muttered. Thursday. Thursday was fancy night. Every week, they chose one night out, rotating the restaurant choice between them. And Katara had picked this one out tonight: a seafood restaurant on the dock. One that needed a call ahead. “Oh shit, the reservations.” Her hands twined in her hair, making it messier. “Oh spirits, I totally forgot, I’m so sorry, guys.”

“It’s okay!” said Aang, though Zuko’s expression said otherwise. “They’re still open, if we leave soon, we can probably make the last round of dinner service.”

A light scowl played on Zuko’s lips. “We’d have to leave in the next ten minutes. Hope the maître d' takes bribes.”

Katara couldn’t tell if she wanted to punch him or apologize again. “Ten minutes, yes, okay.” Her mind ran through it: no time to shower, but she could remove and reapply her makeup quickly. What clothes did she have? That blue satin dress again? But she’d worn it last week: ugh, it’ll have to do.

She was halfway through planning jewelry when she entered the bathroom and saw herself again.

For Katara, appearance was less about how she physically looked, but how confident she felt. She didn’t wear makeup or nice clothes out of insecurity. If anything, it was a booster, prompting her to stand up straighter, draw power from her elegance. She had been the one who pushed for fancy night in the weekly dinner rotations: a chance to don her armor.

But tonight, no amount of armor could make her feel powerful. Not after the drag of the day. She had been holding everything in, a dam to keep back the tide. But when the coffee stain entered her field of vision, Katara couldn’t keep it back anymore. She cried.

She smeared the tears over her cheeks, trying to get ahold of herself. One bad day didn’t mean it had to be a bad evening. Katara sniffled, and splashed some water on her face.

Katara slunk from the bathroom, partially from embarrassment, to the bedroom and slipped the satin over herself. She prayed there would be no reporters, no press to blog about her: ‘Katara wears the same dress two weeks in a row’. When she had collected herself–2 minutes past Zuko’s deadline, unfortunately–she reemerged into the living room.

The overhead lights had been turned off, replaced by soft candles around the apartment, giving the room a warm glow against the cool lights of the city outside. Their smoky scents mingled in the air. Aang and Zuko were sitting together on the couch now, but stood when she entered.

“Ready?” Katara asked, slinging the silvery strap of her purse over her shoulder.

Her husbands exchanged looks. “Actually,” Aang said. “Um… maybe we should just stay in tonight.”

“... But it’s fancy night,” said Katara. “I was the one who wanted to do it, and you’re both all dressed up and I already kept you both waiting and-”

Zuko’s frustration had fallen away, replaced by… guilt? Is that what it was? “It’s okay, Katara. Don’t worry about us.”

Aang answered the question in her eyes before she even asked it. “We… we heard you in the bathroom.” Crying. That’s what he didn’t say. “Fancy night’s supposed to be fun, we don’t want you to be stressed.”

The embarrassment came back, stronger this time. “No,” she said. “This is my fault, I didn’t communicate, I didn’t think about it.”

Zuko said, “You probably had more on your mind,” before repeating, “It’s okay. We’ll just heat up the bulgogi I made last night. It’s not really ‘fancy’ but…”

“And,” said Aang, “we can watch one of your favorite movies. Or we can play a game or… I don’t know, we can relax. Whatever you want to do.”

The tears came again, but they were different this time. They didn’t feel like water over the edge of the dam, but like the dam had disappeared. She didn’t even get a good sniffle in before Aang’s arms were wrapped around her, followed by Zuko’s.

The heady mixture of their colognes warmed her. She smiled into the fabric of Aang’s shirt. “I need a new dress anyway.”

“Yeah,” Zuko said, ever tactful. “You do.”

Aang gasped. “Zuko!”

“What? She said the same thing I did.”

Aang recovered for him. “That dress still looks amazing on you, Kat.”

“Ohh.” Zuko gave her a quick apologetic smooch on the forehead. “That’s not what I meant, I was just… you know, public perception and all that. Of course you look great in it, you look great in everything.” His hand wandered to her lower back. “Or nothing.”

Despite Zuko’s lack of diplomacy, Katara giggled. She pulled her husbands in close one last time then stepped back. “I accept these terms, but only on one condition.”

The men waited patiently.

Katara said, “I get to tell you about my wack ass day.”

“Of course!” Aang said with a grin.

Zuko nodded. “I’ll make some tea.”

#zutaraang #zutaraang week 2022 #ATLA #Katara #ATLA fic #my fic #modern au #alternate universe #Aang #Zuko

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