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gukyi · 4 years

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the courtship chronicles (post-script) | ksj

summary: or, the one where seokjin goes from being your plus-one at a friend’s wedding to the one you’re getting married to at your own.

{established relationship!au, friends to lovers!au}

pairing: kim seokjin x female reader genre: fluff word count: 2k warnings: alcohol mention (champagne), wedding nerves! a/n: again, major shoutout to @aurawatercolor for sticking with me even though it’s taken me months to write this drabble that i promised them. i hope it’s everything you dreamed of!

The plus side of being the person getting married at a wedding, as opposed to being the person who’s going to watch, is that you don’t need to worry about bringing a plus-one.

Granted, you have not seen Seokjin all day, too busy sitting in your budget bridal suite hotel room getting your hair and makeup done while all of your bridesmaids drink champagne and celebrate, so maybe you should be worrying about him. This wedding couldn’t have been pulled off so smoothly if it weren’t for his uncanny ability to make everything he touches absolutely perfect, and without him, you feel like a fish out of water.

He’s texting you constantly, if that’s any consolation. Keeping you updated on all of the mishaps happening over in his hotel room. One of his groomsmen does not have any shoes. At all.

In hindsight, you’re not sure if knowing Seokjin’s whereabouts will make you more or less stressed.

The fact of the matter is that, like most things in your life, you’re absolutely terrible at planning major events like weddings. House parties you host usually end up with someone pulling out the fire extinguisher and the food going cold, so to place something as paramount to the rest of a couple’s livelihoods as a wedding in your hands would be a trainwreck. The upside is that weddings, unlike house parties, are usually planned by multiple people months in advance. Though you wouldn’t doubt something going horribly wrong today.

Not getting to see Seokjin is the most ridiculous part of the whole day anyway, because he’s your fiance, and the love of your life, and the only one who can keep both of your heads screwed on straight. This wedding wouldn’t be nearly as good if it weren’t for him. He handled everything from the venue to the photographer to the invitations. You just joined him for the cake tasting.

“Is it normal to feel sort of weird about this whole thing?” You ask as the makeup artist applies powder onto your face, baking you like the wedding cake sitting at your wedding venue.

“Weird how?” Cynthia asks from where she’s seated on the bed, fixing the clips in her hair. “Like, an uneasy kind of weird feeling? Or a jittery kind?”

“Like, Seokjin and I have been best friends for years. I don’t know, I feel like us dating was basically us being friends but with kissing,” you say with a shrug. The idea of marrying your best friend still puts an unidentifiable taste into your mouth. It is by no means unpleasant, but it certainly makes you feel something fierce.

“That’s kind of what dating is,” Cynthia points out unhelpfully, though you suppose she’s right.

“Is this how you felt when you got married?” You ask. Cynthia’s wedding seems like eons ago, even if it was only a year and a bit. It only feels so far removed because between her wedding and yours, you fell in love with, began dating, and got engaged to your best friend. Time moves fast.

“Everyone feels different,” Cynthia tells you. “I felt like I was going to throw up the entire time until I said ‘I do.’ But you and Seokjin have been best friends for what, like eight years? You know everything there is to know about each other. Give yourself some credit, Y/N. The history that the two of you share is ridiculous. It’s not like you’re just marrying some rando off of Hinge.”

“I just… I guess I feel like Seokjin and I have sort of always been married, in a way. And that all of this is just a formality. We’re best friends before anything else. Sometimes, it’s still weird for me to think about the fact that we love each other.”

Cynthia grins fondly. She knows better than anybody, having watched the two of you pine after each other for years. “Then don’t think about it like you’re marrying your best friend, or the person you’ve been dating for the past year. Think about it like you’re marrying Seokjin. It’s just Seokjin. You love him.”

It’s just Seokjin.

It is.

It always has been.

To spare yourselves the drama of revealing yourselves to each other the moment that the bells start playing and you prance down the aisle, you and Seokjin have decided to do a first look, deciding that if you’re going to cry (and you definitely will), it’s better in private than when all of your friends and family are watching you share the most important moment in life. Seokjin’s been waiting at the venue for the past five minutes already, with you running late, as always, but with every turn the Uber driver takes, you feel the thing that Cynthia was talking about. Feel the nerves rushing through your body, the bile rising in your throat. You’re getting married today. You think you’re about to hurl.

Eventually, you arrive, hopping out of the Uber driver with your massive wedding dress behind you, train dragging along the pavement as you scurry towards the venue, desperate to see him and praying that the minutes go by slower all at once. You miss him. Is that weird? You see him every day, and in a few hours you’ll be promising the rest of your lives to each other, and you miss him.

The truth is that you don’t think you’ll ever be able to live without him. Not freshman year of college, not after you graduated, and certainly not now. Not ever.

Even though it’s private, the few people who accompanied you to the venue still want it to be as dramatic as possible, Cynthia reaching up to cover your eyes with her hands as she leads you inside, the air conditioning sending shivers down your spine as you get out of the early summer humidity. All you can do is feel around, hands in front of you for balance as Cynthia slowly guides you towards who you can only assume is Seokjin, with his eyes covered as well. You can’t wait to see him. You already feel yourself sinking whenever he’s not around.

“Three, two, one!”

Cynthia pulls her hands away and you nearly break down into tears at the sight of him.

There he is. Standing there in a crisp black suit, tailored to fit his figure perfectly. There’s a white rose wrapped in the boutonniere pinned to the lapel of his jacket, golden arrows interlocked beneath it. You had no idea what Seokjin had ordered for his suit, but it’s perfect, and so is he. He’s standing there, right in front of you, ready to marry you. Ready to be by your side for the rest of time.

Seokjin doesn’t seem to be faring much better. He immediately bursts into tears when he sees you, overcome with love, with joy, with admiration, as he sees you in your white dress, with the veil tucked neatly into the top of your head, spreading outwards like angel wings.

“Oh, wow,” Seokjin says, speechless.

“Wow yourself,” you tell him back. You’ve seen Seokjin in everything from a chef’s apron to a college hoodie and gym shorts, to a police officer costume, but this blows all of those out of the water. He doesn’t look like your best friend, your college confidant, your fiance. He looks like a celebrity, like he should be in a magazine modeling Rolex watches, like he should be standing on a red carpet as cameras flash and paparazzi shout, desperate for him to look their way.

“I—I’m,” Seokjin begins as he opens his arms for you. You gladly accept his invitation, walking towards him as if in a trance, letting him pull you in close, the scent of him filling up your senses. “You’re beautiful, did you know that?”

“You’re beautiful,” you tell him. “I’m so lucky.”

He presses a kiss to your lips and it still feels like the very first one, still makes you feel like you’re enveloped in his warmth, like sparks are flaring through your veins. He still makes you feel the way he has always made you feel: loved. Treasured. Cherished.

“I can’t believe we’re getting married,” you confess, the words a weight off of your chest.

“I can’t believe it’s taken so long. I would have married you right out of college if I had known,” Seokjin admits.

You lean down to kiss him again, a soft, sweet one that lasts no more than a second. How many of those you have shared, you’ve lost count. You hope that, when the world comes to an end, it will be something close to infinity.

“You don’t have to wait any longer,” you promise. “We’re there.”

The ceremony goes off without a hitch and with more tears than you are personally willing to admit, leaving only the reception for there to be any opportunity for mishaps and mayhem. Luckily, now that Seokjin’s here, you feel as though your bad luck has vanished, like he is all of the good karma you could ever need.

Neither you nor Seokjin have ever been particularly good at getting down, as evidenced by any time the two of you are presented with an opportunity to show off your collective four left feet, but the good news is that the waltz is terribly easy to learn.

“Everyone’s watching us,” you whisper as he dances you around the ballroom. This first dance thing is ridiculous, and it’s making you more nervous than you were when you were about to get married to him.

“They better be,” Seokjin says. “We practiced in our living room for this.”

“I feel like I’ve stepped onto your feet twice already,” you tell him.

“Three times, actually.”

“Wait, really? I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Seokjin says with a laugh. “You’re so nervous that it doesn’t feel like anything at all.”

“I’m no good at dancing.”

“You said you were no good at love, either, and look where we are,” Seokjin retorts.

“That’s different, I had help with that,” you defend yourself. Is Seokjin really comparing the weeks-long journey it took you to realize you were in love with your best friend to the fact that you haven’t mastered a stupid ballroom dance?

“And? Who says you can’t have help with this?”

With a flourish, Seokjin spins you around the room, making you gasp as all of the guests cheer at your apparent display of waltz mastery, before pulling you back into him. You don’t have time to chide him before he twirls you once more, then dips you low as the song comes to an end.

“What was that for?” You ask, giving him a lighthearted shove.

“I was helping you,” Seokjin explains. “Because loving someone is like dancing. You follow each other’s leads, and you trust each other. You just need someone to show you how.”

“You’re an idiot,” you tell him, even if you don’t feel like fighting the smile that’s growing on your face.

“An idiot who loves you,” Seokjin says, commemorating the end of your first dance as a married couple with a kiss.

Loving someone is like dancing. You put full faith in each other and tune the rest of the world out. Let the music play in your hearts and guide you along, down a path decorated with flowers and smelling sweetly of your future. You may not know where next to place your feet, or what notes will be played, but you need not worry. So long as you have each other, to have and to hold, so long as you both shall live.

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget i’m still taking commissions!

#seokjin fluff #seokjin angst #jin fluff #jin angst #bts fluff #bts angst #seokjin scenario #jin scenario #bts scenario #jin fic #bts fic #bts au #seokjin imagine #jin imagine #bts imagine #w: the courtship chronicles

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kalypsichor · 4 years

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don’t be cruel [ john lennon x reader ]

summary: You come to class in the shortest little skirt and Professor Lennon is so distracted he can barely teach. Afterwards, he tries taking matters into his own hands... only to be interrupted by the very subject of his fantasy.

prompt: my own fucking post, bc I have no self-control warnings: oral sex, dirty talk, professor kink... this is basically porn and I’m not sorry. oh also there’s dante’s inferno discourse, if that’s upsetting to anyone

i have nothing to say. this is filth. see y’all in the second circle of hell lmao (also, can you spot the 🥪 hint?)

i was gonna schedule this for 9 am or something but... apparently some of y’all are still awake if my notifs are any indication. so. enjoy. it’s almost 4 am for me

This is so, so wrong.

You’re not that much younger than John, with you in your early twenties and him just approaching thirty. Still, he’s your professor. You’re his student. There’s an unspoken taboo about the whole thing, a clear line that should never be towed. John’s a rational man—after all, he’s a Literature professor—and he knows these things in his head. They’re as clear as day, as obvious as Brontë’s warnings against forbidden love throughout Wuthering Heights.

All that rationality flies out the window when you come into class this morning wearing a short skirt that makes John almost drop his chalk.

You greet him with a nod and a smile, as per usual, but John can’t bring himself to smile back. He can’t bring himself to look you in the eyes. So when a flash of hurt streaks through them, he misses it, having already turned his back to write the day’s lesson on the chalkboard.

All of class, John is distracted. Not distracted enough for his students to take notice, of course; he’s familiar enough with the topic and his students are too busy scribbling notes to care. Still, John can’t stop thinking about running his fingers over your ass, about bending you over his desk and fucking you, your pretty little skirt bunched up in his hands. Maybe he’d wrap his tie around your wrists. Make you beg to be touched. And John would give in, if only to hear you whine when he teases your clit.

Thank god for the podium at the front of the room. John’s always been an active teacher, walking up and down the aisles as he lectures, sometimes even sitting on his students’ desks just for the hell of it. Professor McCartney calls it dramatic, but John knows that it brings so much more to his teaching. It keeps his audience engaged, which is exactly what he needs when he’s trying to get them interested in some dead 13th century Italian guy’s rhapsody on death.

Unfortunately, he’s got the worst hard-on ever right now, and even moving slightly behind the podium is causing the fabric of his slacks to shift agonizingly against his erection. John curses having tied his belt so tight this morning.

He’s halfway through the class, basically talking to a dead room of glazed eyes and drooping pens, when you raise your hand.

“Sorry, Professor Lennon.” John inhales sharply at the way you say his name and almost misses your next words. “But just now when you mentioned Beatrice, did you mean that she symbolizes divine love? Because isn’t that the whole reason she can take Dante to heaven, whereas Virgil is limited by human reasoning?”

“Yes, that’s right. What did I say?”

You bite your pen and John’s gaze is immediately drawn to the shape of your lips around it. He swears that he can see you almost smirk a little when you speak again.

“You called her ‘forbidden love.’”

Okay. Maybe John is more distracted than he thinks.

The rest of the hour, Johns finds himself glancing at you even more often. And though you’re sitting in the back of the room, John thinks that he catches you looking right back.

For the first time in his career, John has to agree with his students: the end of class can’t come quickly enough. The moment that last straggler pushes out of the lecture hall, the double doors closing behind them, he pushes off from the podium and rushes into his office, not even bothering to lock the door. John just needs some sweet relief and he finds it when he leans against his desk and unbuttons his slacks.

The moment John takes his cock in hand, he groans and lets his head fall back. Fucking hell, he’s been wanting to touch himself since you walked into class in that stupidly short skirt. He knows that this is improper, especially in his own office, but John couldn’t care less right now. He strokes himself with one hand, bracing against the desk with the other. And then his mind veers off and imagines that it’s you touching him. Your hands are so much smaller than John’s. The thought of them wrapped around his cock makes him swear, your name tumbling from his lips before he can stop it. Fuck, he’s getting close, and in his head he can hear you edging him on, can hear you calling his name—

“Professor?”

There’s no time to hide. John can barely even react, eyes jolting open to see your wide, shocked ones… glued to the sight of him masturbating.

“Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry, I- I didn’t hear you knocking, I...” His babbling trails off when you don’t seem to be freaking out. And when you close the door behind you, turning the lock, something else entirely shoots through his body.

“I heard you saying my name.” You walk to where John is standing, his hand still wrapped around his cock. “Were you thinking about me?”

“I, uh. Look, I didn’t-”

The sight of you dropping to your knees in front of him is the hottest thing John has ever seen. Involuntarily, his hand jerks and he lets out a shaky breath.

“Tell me, please?” And how can he say no when you’re looking up at him like that, biting so innocently at your lip?

Something inside John lurches and he stumbles right across that line separating right from wrong.

“Fuck, I was.” John’s voice pitches a note lower, tone more confident and now it’s your turn to catch your breath in your throat. “Been thinkin’ about you all class, birdie. You knew what you were doing, paradin’ around in that little skirt. I bet you wore it for me, hm?”

You nod your head, a little shyly, and place a hand over his, not quite touching his cock. Still, the sight of your much smaller hand on John’s makes his grip tighten and he grunts. The sound goes right to your core.

“Wanna feel you in my mouth. Can I?”

John barely gets the chance to nod before you’re mouthing at his tip. His hand falls away immediately, joining the other in gripping the desk at the feeling. You pull away a little and lick all the way from up from the base, flattening your tongue against his veins, before taking his cock into your mouth.

You go down on him slowly, so slowly, and the feeling of your warm mouth enveloping his length makes John groan. His eyes want to fall shut but he forces himself to watch your pretty lips stretch around his cock. It’s worth it, especially when you flick your eyes up to look at him. The sight of you makes his hips jerk involuntarily and you gag, pulling backwards with a wet pop that sends another wave of arousal coursing through John.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, reaching out a hand to brush away the tears that have welled up in your eyes, but you shake your head. Wordlessly, you guide both of his hands into your hair and go down on him again—and when you take in as much of his cock as you can, you look up to John as if waiting for something.

When he understands, he finally lets himself close his eyes.

“God, you’re so good for me, aren’t you?” John pulls out of your mouth a little before sliding back in, gasping at the warmth. “Taking your professor's cock like this. Mm, fuck—you feel so good.”

John increases his pace, starting to really fuck into your mouth. His grip tightens in your hair and you whine.

“What if Professor McCartney walked in right now, huh? I bet you’d keep sucking me off. Would you?”

The blush across your cheeks darkens and John takes note of it, something piping up in the back of his mind. But then you’re moaning around his cock and the vibrations are making his knees weak. He’s gonna come, soon, and his words devolve into grunts and curses as his hips jerk faster and faster into your mouth. Your throat has got to be tired by now but you’re not stopping or pulling away. The thought that you actually enjoy this, that it’s turning you on to be on your knees for John, is what sends him over the edge.

You let him finish in your mouth, swallowing all of it—or at least, as much as you can. Still, a little bit of John’s cum makes its way down your bottom lip. Before he can second-guess himself, he pulls you up to your feet and kisses you. It’s soft, a distinct contrast to the fervor with which John had just been fucking your mouth with, and a little bitter with the taste of his own cum on his tongue. You whine when he swipes a tongue across your lip and the sound turns into a high pitched moan when he bites down where he just licked.

“Professor-”

“Call me John,” he says, pulling away and seeing a shy smile cross your face.

“Okay,” you say. You close the gap between your lips and kiss him again. “John.”

Just to make sure, though, John has you scream it for him when it’s his turn to get on his knees.

* * *

THERE IS NOW A PART TWO 🥪🥪🥪

#john lennon x reader #john lennon smut #the beatles x reader #beatles smut #kalwrites #professor kink #dante is about to punt me into hell #sorry #professor au

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queenmagnusao3 · 3 years

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Regrets - Chapter Seven

AO3 Link - I’m feeling a bit better about this fic so I’m posting an update on here. I’d say this one is almost halfway done now

“Chief! Chief I found something!”

Lin turned from the board of papers and photographs she had set up across one of the walls of her office to see Detective Chen come running into the room, nearly sliding across the floor as he came to a stop. It had been two days and Lin hadn’t slept at all as she flung herself into researching everything she could about the case. Chen held a small black book in his hand.

“What did you find?”

Chen was catching his breath as he handed it over to her.

“It’s a diary. From Jia, the woman who…”

Kidnapped my daughter.

Lin finished the sentence in her head as she flipped through the pages. It appeared to be a diary of sorts. There was an entry that had evidently been bookmarked, most likely by her detective.

“I worked at the hospital part time and was approached by a man to kidnap a baby after it was born. At first I said no but he offered me more money than I make at the hospital in five years. I knew how horrible it was but figured I could just treat it like a job and tried not to think about it too much after I said yes.

The day came and there were complications. I had the opportunity to say the infant didn’t survive. I thought this would make things easier for my boss. But then I couldn’t follow through. I couldn’t hand this perfect little girl over to him. I don’t even know what organization he was from.

I didn’t know who the baby belonged to before I agreed to the job. And I’m ashamed to admit that even after I found out I couldn’t bring myself to come forward. She was my daughter now.

The Avatar’s son moved on and had kids of his own and I saw how busy the Police Chief was with her job. She didn’t have time for a child anyway.”

Lin stopped reading, flinging the book across the room before she damaged the evidence. There was a pressure building inside her and thought her heart was going to beat out of her chest. This was undeniable proof that this missing girl was… that her daughter wasn’t…

She slammed a fist down on her desk, the whole thing buckling in on itself as the metal crunched and twisted. Chen didn’t say anything as he stood quietly, waiting for his Chief to gather herself. It took a couple minutes of slow, steady breathing before Lin found herself able to speak.

“Are there any leads on the girl’s location or who may have taken her?”

“No, Chief. I’m sorry. We haven’t found anything.”

Lin walked around her mangled desk and slumped into her chair.

“Thank you, detective. Let me know if you get any leads.”

“Yes, chief!”

He left and Lin carefully picked up her phone from the ground. It only took two rings for Kya to pick up which meant she must have been waiting near it.

“Lin?”

She felt a lump in throat, trying to steady her voice but it still cracked when she spoke.

“Kya, it’s her. It’s really her.”

Lin let out a gasp, quickly pulling her face from the phone and covering her mouth to stop the sob that threatened to open a dam of emotions she was struggling to contain. Kya didn’t speak for a moment and when she did her voice was soft and kind.

“We’ll find her, Lin. I promise. Will you please come home? Just for tonight?”

Never promise the victim’s family that you’ll bring their loved one home safe because that’s not a promise you can always keep. The bitter thought was automatic. The very basics of dealing with missing persons cases. Lin never imagined she’d be on this side of things and yet here she was.

“I’ll be home in a bit.”

“I love you, Lin.”

“Love you, too.”

They hung up and Lin walked to her case board, carefully unpinning a photo of the dark haired girl and studying every inch of her.

Rei.

Her daughter.

____________________

The next day Lin was back at the station before the sun had even come up. She had spent the morning in a terrible mood, yelling at anyone that crossed her path and unfairly belittling her own officers for not having more information for her.

She retreated to her office and started reading more passages from the diary they had recovered from the girl’s apartment. There were dozens of passages, mostly the random thoughts of the woman who wrote them. But there were also many excerpts about her daughter.

“Rei said her first word today. I was hoping it would be mama because she’s been so close but instead she’s been repeating the phrase “uh oh” over and over again. I’m not sure when she picked it up but it melts my heart every time I hear it.”

“She’s an earthbender!! I was sweeping the back steps today when I tripped and cursed at the stairs. Rei was sitting nearby and waddled over. She yelled at the stone stairs for hurting her mommy and then proceeded to make a dramatic and sloppy movement with her arms that caused the entire top stair to break away and go flying across the yard. I’m so proud! I’m going to have find someone to teach her pretty soon, though, otherwise she’s going to start doing some real damage.”

“We saw Chief Beifong today and I’ve never been so scared in my life. Rei and I were walking down the street when a bunch of police cars came flying up the street. The car they were chasing lost control and I quickly grabbed Rei and braced us for impact as it came right for us. I felt something wrap around us before we were yanked away. The Chief came up and asked if we were okay before running to the car that had nearly killed us, dragging a couple of bank thieves from within. I didn’t stick around. I just picked up Rei and ran home.”

Lin was frozen as she reread the passage again and again. She remembered that day. She remembered pulling the woman and child out of the path of that car. Once she knew they were safe she hadn’t even paid them another moment’s notice. The date indicated that Rei had been 4 years old at that time. Shouldn’t she have recognized her? Why didn’t she recognize her?

There was a soft knock on her door and Tenzin came in, robes billowing behind him.

“I saw her.”

“What?”

He had stopped dead in his tracks, looking to her in confusion. She got up from her desk and handed him the book opened to the passage she had just read. He scanned the page, slowly stepping back and sitting on the couch she kept in her office. Neither of them spoke as Tenzin sat quietly and Lin started pacing, lost again in thought and a renewed sense of guilt.

She could feel Tenzin looking at her, watching cautiously as she continued to pace back and forth. She always paced when she was upset. He used to joke that if she were a firebender there would scorch marks on all their floors from where she paced.

Lin stopped, leaning against the edge of her desk with her back to Tenzin. They were missing so much of the puzzle. Why had they wanted their daughter all those years ago and why did they decide to take her now?

“Lin… you need to read this one.”

She turned to him and saw that his face had paled. He got up and handed the book back to her.

“I’m so scared right now. It’s been all over that these powerful prisoners have escaped and are trying to hurt Avatar Korra. I didn’t get many details but one of them is called Zaheer. The man who hired me to kidnap Rei once talked about someone named Zaheer. They all still think Rei died the day she was born but I’m still worried. Rei is a teenager and just wants to hang out with friends but I’m so scared something is going to happen.”

Lin’s eyes snapped to Tenzin’s her mouth slightly open.

The Red Lotus.

Before either of them could speak there was a sharp knock on the door. Lin turned to see one of her rookie officers standing there, looking completely terrified as she held up a white envelope.

“S-sorry to interrupt, Chief. You just said to let you know if you got any mail.”

Lin beckoned the nervous officer in and took the letter from her. There were no markings on the envelope except for the words “Chief Lin Beifong” written in a swirling script. She didn’t even bother dismissing her officer before ripping it open.

She scanned over the words a few times before crumpling the paper in her hands, letting out a frustrated growl. She thrust the paper at Tenzin before he could open his mouth. He read the note, backing up slowly, rubbing a hand over his head.

“Bring us the Avatar if you ever want the chance to meet your daughter”

Lin was angry now as she resumed her pacing. Apparently there were still remnants of the Red Lotus that were still loyal to Zaheer and his ideologies. Somehow they now knew that she knew the truth about who Rei was. And they were going to use her daughter to try and get to Korra.

“Do you know where Korra is right now, Tenzin?”

“She went with Asami on a business trip to the Fire Nation.”

It took a few minutes for Lin and Tenzin to figure out where the couple were staying and Lin immediately picked up her phone as soon she tracked down the correct contact number.

“I’ve got food!”

Kya entered the office holding up a couple bags of food. She had been making it her personal mission to do whatever she could to take care of Lin and not add to the increasing amount of stress weighing down the woman she loved. Tenzin shushed her loudly, gesturing to Lin and the fact that she was using the phone.

Kya set the food down perched herself on the arm of the couch.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Korra, but I need you to come back to Republic City. I know… I know. I’m sorry. Korra just… please…”

Kya reached out for her brother’s hand and squeezed it tightly as her heart broke a little at the desperation in Lin’s voice. Korra must have heard it too.

“Thank you, Korra. Please be safe. Come right to the city. I promise I’ll explain everything.”

Lin hung up the phone and collapsed back into her chair again. She didn’t look to them, staring blankly as her thoughts raced.

“Korra and Asami are their way back. They’re going to meet us on Air Temple Island.”

#my writing #legend of korra fanfiction #fanfic #legend of korra fanfic #lin beifong #kya #kyalin

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readsomescribbledybop · 4 years

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For some reason, I can’t reblog the prompt I used for this!

Please check out @dailyau for their writing prompts! For some reason, I couldn’t reblog the prompt I used for this au but it was the 'You're the stranger who's using my car's window as mirror to check how you look without noticing I'm sitting right in there, so I go ahead and open the window to tell you how pretty you are' AU. I technically didn’t follow instructions either. Darn. Anyways. I really liked this one and in the original post I composed I started off by CRACKING MY BONES. Here, I’ll just copy and paste it.

Ohhohohohohohohohohoho..... what have we here? *cracks fingers, back, and neck and then the knees too for good measure*

Yuuri allowed himself an extra few minutes to sit in his car and warm up his hands before stepping into the bitter wind. Winter was so intense this year that he could feel the inside of his bones, and he was certain the marrow there was frozen. He technically had the time. No one else came to work as early as him, not even Victor, and he was the CEO.

Yuuri just liked to make sure that he had the itinerary ready for Victor when he arrived, the to-do list sorted, memos organized, etcetera. That way, when Victor walked in, he could give his boss a quick synopsis of the day ahead, a smooth start to yet another productive day at Nikiforov Inc. He shivered and thought about how his first order of business would be to immediately send Minami out to grab coffees. He felt bad for subjecting the plucky intern to these conditions, but he’d let him take the company car.

He huffed into his palms and jumped when a shadow passed the outside of his car. Yuuri squinted through the frosted glass at someone in a dark trench coat, shoulders hunched against the wind. It was barely five in the morning and even the janitors came in at six... he leaned closer and watched as the wind pushed the person back, their platinum hair flying up in a lovely flurry.

Victor?! It was actually him, and now that Yuuri was looking properly, it couldn’t have been anyone but him, with the unmistakable attention to detail in his coat’s tailoring, the scarf that was clearly designer even through the dark mist of the early morning, and that shock of beautiful, silver hair. It was even cute swept up in a tuft, Yuuri thought. What brings you here so early, Mr. Nikiforov? He laughed quietly to himself as he watched Victor hesitate, his shoulders sagging dramatically before turning around as if looking for something. He seemed to have found it when his eyes landed on Yuuri’s car. Yuuri watched half with interest and half with mild dread because he really didn’t want to get out of his car just yet. It was still far too cold.

But Victor wasn’t looking at him. Yuuri frowned as Victor stopped right outside his passenger window. He expected Victor to say something, but instead, his boss leaned down to check his reflection in Yuuri’s mirror. He barely held down a snort. Victor frowned at his reflection as he tried to smooth down his wind swept tuft with gloved fingers. He fussed with it and pouted before turning to face the window, it seemed for a larger reflection. Yuuri pursed his lips on a smile-- Victor was looking right at him. Couldn’t he see Yuuri? Victor straightened out his shiny bangs, a perfect flirty curtain over his left eye, and then stood up straighter to look at himself, turned left and right as if to check all of his angles for imperfections that he definitely didn’t have. He tilted his chin up, showing off his cheekbones, the frame of an immaculate picture. He licked his pink lips and Yuuri bit his own, watched as Victor procured a tube of chap stick from his pocket to apply it. He took a step back, tilted his head at the window, and Yuuri nodded at him, giving his silent approval of the finished look.

But Victor still wasn’t satisfied as he huffed and marched impatiently back to the window. Yuuri lifted an eyebrow at Victor who slapped his hands on his cheeks in despair at his reflection. Yuuri chuckled and rolled the window down. Victor’s blue eyes flew open in shock.

“Good morning, Mr. Nikiforov,” Yuuri greeted him warmly.

“Ah! Yuuri! I-- I didn’t know-- your car,” he stammered, actually looking flustered, something entirely new to Yuuri who was used to seeing smooth Victor. Confident Victor. The Victor that made business deals like it was a childhood hobby. It was endearing to see. Yuuri beamed at him. Victor cleared his throat and tried to collect himself as he straightened his scarf around his collar. “Sorry about that...”

“Not at all,” Yuuri said and tried not to be too obvious about looking at Victor’s winter reddened cheeks. “You look lovely this morning,” he added softly.

“Ah, well,” Victor mumbled awkwardly though he smiled a little as he rocked on his heels.

“Would you like to get in and warm up before going up to the office, sir?”

“Um, well, if that’s alright with you,” Victor said and Yuuri unlocked the door for Victor. Victor stepped in the car and shut the door behind him, bringing in a warm, soft smell with him that sent an electric trickle up Yuuri’s back. It was somehow clean and woody at the same time, Like a hint of cedar on linen... Victor looked at the gold watch on his wrist. “Do you really always come in this early, Yuuri?”

“There’s always plenty of work waiting for me.”

“You work too hard.”

“Forgive me if I don’t take the man who built an empire from the ground up too seriously, sir.”

“I had help,” Victor smirked.

“That you did,” he pulled a pair of gloves out of his coat pocket and put them on. “Pardon the intrusion but, may I ask what brings you to the office so early? Is there something I can help you with?”

“Ah,” Victor sighed. From the corner of his eye, Yuuri watched the white ribbon of breath curl in the air in front of Victor. He seemed to be thinking something over as he stuck his tongue in his cheek and drummed his thighs with his fingers. “I guess there’s no getting around it now,” Victor said with a gentle smile and he reached into his coat to pull out a small velvet box. “I wanted to surprise you somehow, leave it on your desk before the rest of the staff arrived, but... you never fail to surprise me, Yuuri.”

“Surprise?”

“I usually pride myself in being excellent at surprises,” he admitted with a wolfish grin, “but I had to think about a surprise that would be right for Yuuri Katsuki, the world’s most wonderful executive assistant. A man of class, poise, efficiency, beauty--”

“Mr. Nikiforov...”

“Professionalism, right,” he waved his hand dismissively before finishing “a man who carries the weight of a company on his shoulders.”

“But, you’re the CEO.”

“As far as I’m concerned we’re the CEO,” he corrected sternly. And Yuuri threw his head back and laughed at how ridiculous Victor was being. “I thought about showering you with roses, hiring a harpist, or renting a horse drawn carriage, but nothing seemed to be a fit for you.”

“You know me much better than I gave you credit for,” Yuuri said, his neck growing hot at the idea of a Cinderella style carriage arriving in front of the office in front of all the employees.

“Of course, I do! None of those things were good enough for my Yuuri.” He handed the box to Yuuri who took it. “Nothing is good enough for you, to be completely honest. But anyways... happy birthday, Yuuri.”

“Oh!” Now, Yuuri thought he must’ve been the one to be red in the face because his skin was on fire, and his heart jumped in his chest with delight. “I-- thank you, Vic-- I-- Mr. Nikiforov, I really appreciate this,” he exclaimed, feeling both elated and embarrassed.

“If you like it now, just wait until you open it,” Victor joked and Yuuri chuckled, feeling silly for getting worked up over a box. He gently lifted the lid to find a pair of matching gold cuff links with his initials embossed in the smooth surface.

“They’re perfect,” Yuuri said. “This is... this is really thoughtful, Mr. Nikiforov.”

Victor sighed, content as he stretched back against his seat. “I’m giving you the day off.”

“That is inadvisable.”

“You deserve it, Yuuri. I’ll handle the paperwork when I go in.”

“You’ll do no such thing.”

“I changed my mind. Take the whole week to enjoy yourself. You can use the company card to buy yourself something nice.”

“I’m not going home, Victor,” Yuuri shook his head at his boss who was being insufferably silly. Victor’s lips curled up.

“Got you to say my name,” he taunted. Yuuri rolled his eyes and smirked in spite of himself.

“Can you believe that our partners actually find you intimidating?”

“It’s a mystery to me. I have a very sunny disposition.” Yuuri hummed and gingerly removed a cuff link from its foam. He attached them both to his sleeves and admired them in the new morning light. It was pale and pink like strawberry lemonade, a hue that made the frosted Earth blush. “You made it perfect,” Victor murmured and Yuuri grinned.

“I love them, Victor. This means a lot to me. Shall we?” Yuuri asked Victor who nodded and they both got out of the car to start the day.

They walked in comfortable silence to the doors. When Yuuri stopped to open them, Victor turned suddenly to him and opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it again and smiled.

“Don’t tell me you actually did get the carriage,” Yuuri teased and Victor laughed, shook his head.

“No, this is... this is different,” he said and pulled a small white envelope from his pocket. It was blank. “This isn’t a present. Sorry to start your birthday with more work but...”

“No reason to be sorry. It’s my job, after all,” Yuuri straightened up to pay attention.

“When you have time, take a look at this for me. Tell me if it’s... professional. If it isn’t, feel free to throw it away,” he instructed as he handed the envelope to Yuuri and walked through the open door ahead of him in one swift movement.

“Is it time sensitive?”

“Not at all,” Victor said over his shoulder. “Read it when you’re ready,” and he pushed the black and gold button for the elevator. Yuuri frowned at the little envelope but shrugged as he tucked it into his pocket.

“Understood,” Yuuri said.

The rest of the day was peacefully busy, a normal day of hustle and buzz. Yuuri organized Victor’s schedule for the week, called clients to arrange conference dates, reviewed the weekly company outreach report, and set up Victor’s poodle’s vet appointment. It was satisfyingly productive, he thought as he allowed himself to deflate into his desk chair at the end of the day. Everyone but he and Victor had clocked out to go home. He was glad that no one besides Victor knew about his birthday... the attention would’ve made him uncomfortable.

Victor’s gift was more than enough, the cherry on top of a beautiful day. He thought about going to his favorite Japanese restaurant for dinner, a little mom and pop shop that made a katsudon almost as good as his mother’s. Victor strode out of his office and rapped his knuckles on Yuuri’s desk as he passed.

“Time to go home, Yuuri,” he said, just like always.

“Good work today, Mr. Nikiforov,” Yuuri replied and Victor mouthed happy birthday over his shoulder at Yuuri before stepping into the elevator. As the doors closed, he winked and was gone.

That man. Yuuri bit his lip and spun around in his chair. When it stopped spinning, he leaned on his desk and ran a thumb over one of the cuff links, absently thinking about that morning. About Victor checking his reflection in Yuuri’s car window. About Victor making Yuuri’s car smell like that. Of course, as Victor’s executive assistant, he had to remain professional, set up boundaries so that their work relationship functioned, so that the company functioned. That was what was important. But, it was Yuuri’s professional opinion that Victor Nikiforov was hot enough to set the devil on fire.

And he was a good person too, which only made him hotter, as far as Yuuri was concerned. He was an amazing leader, philanthropic, and loving. He was quite clever too, and as ambitious as Yuuri was, he had to admit that Victor Nikiforov impressed him so thoroughly that Victor’s back was the only one Yuuri was content with standing behind. But it never felt like he was standing behind Victor as much as he was standing at his side. Like partners.

He tried to clear his head by writing and sending out a company memo about the holiday bonuses. Once he finished that and several other little administrative tasks, he consulted the to do list on his tablet. It was nearly complete except--

“Oh, I forgot!” He said out loud even though he was alone. He opened his desk and pulled the letter that Victor gave him out of the drawer. It was sealed with a gold sticker. It looked like a medal. He carefully removed this and sat back in his seat to read the letter. He immediately recognized his boss’ thin, neat cursive.

A soft flame rose in his chest when he read the first line.

Dear Yuuri,

Happy birthday! It seems like only yesterday that Chris hired you. If I remember correctly, you were actually officially appointed on your birthday. I could kick myself for the way I behaved back then. I was so accustomed to doing things by myself so I wasn’t exactly open to the idea of having an assistant. I am so, so sorry for everything. The truth is that now I can’t imagine running this company without you. I can’t imagine my life without you, Yuuri. Your heart is so beautiful. I can’t believe someone like you can be real: someone so compassionate but confident, someone creative and intelligent. You are like a song, Yuuri, and you gave me a new reason, a worthwhile reason to wake up and come to work every day. You gave me a reason to have passion and drive. You gave me a reason to finally use these words:

I love you. I just wanted to let you know...

Yours Forever,

Victor Nikiforov

“Hooo, my god.”

#yuuri on ice #yoi #fanfic #office au #writing prompt #i dont know how to use tumblr send help #not hr #not hero reform #my car window

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scribblescrabblebabble · 5 years

Text

RoyEd Week 2k19 Day 6!

Title: Seven(?) Days

Rating: T+

Relationships: Roy Mustang/ Edward Elric; Gracia Hughes/Maes Hughes

Chapter: Day 6- Wait for me

Cross- Posted on AO3 and Fanfic.net links- AO3 fanfic.net

Best quality reading will be through the links, not on Tumblr itself because I’m too lazy to do italics and shit right now. For @royedweek2019 ‘s RoyEd Week!

This is a prompt from day 5, but lets ignore that hehehe.... Hughes lives! AU

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

A long time ago, Trisha Elric had told her sons that, “Good will come to those who wait,”. It was a common phrase, and she had meant this to mean more on the lines of “wait your turn” and “don’t skip in line” and that sort of thing.

Ed mused on his mother’s advice. He noted wryly that waiting hadn’t done her much good at all- it probably did her a whole world of bad, in fact. He never understood why she waited so dutifully. Never, that is, until now. As he looked upon his garden that Friday evening, the alchemist realized that he, unexpectedly, took after his mother in this way.

----~----

Ed awoke on Saturday two hours after he fell asleep; his alarm for 6:00 had yet to ring. Even in his sleep Ed had been restless, as the blankets were twisted at the bottom of the bed, and his pillow lay a few feet from his dresser across the room. In an attempt to calm his nerves, Ed took a long shower and, unable to find a second towel, called Winry with his hair dripping all over the office rug.

As he waited for his sister-in-law to answer, Ed looked out upon the back yard in the office window, dewy and colorful in the early spring sunrise. Maybe he’d pick a few of the flowers to spruce up the house a little bit- was that too cheesy?

Winry’s tired voice greeted him at last, “Hello?”

“Heya Win.” Ed replied, followed by what he guessed to be a sigh.

“Edward, the sun is barely up! What could you possibly need from me? If it’s an emergency I’m sure there are people who live closer to you to call.”

He chuckled a little guiltily, “Sorry Win, ‘M just trying to kill some time until 10:00. I’m too jittery to get anything productive done.”

Winry gasped, “Oh, is today the day?”

Ed nodded, knowing she couldn’t see, “It’s the day.”

--~--

The past two years had been a long string of going to work at the lab or in the office with Team Mustang, reading the paper, and anxiously awaiting the rare phone call from Al or Roy. To both of their credit, they called whenever possible, but Al was very busy with his teaching job and helping Winry with their young daughter, and Roy…

Roy was never around phones much, Ed guessed.

The blonde currently slouched in his office chair, doodling on a spare sheet of paper in lieu of alphabetizing the sources for his latest compilation of research. Riza looked at him reproachfully from her own desk across the room until he sighed and got back to work, balling up the spare paper and throwing it into the bin. Even then, it took him a minute to focus enough to actually comprehend the words he was trying to sort.

‘Abrams, Addison, Anderson, Amaryllis… wait no, m before n… shit this is dull, I need to get out of here.’ He pushed himself up and muttered about an early lunch break before he strode out of the large room. He looked disdainfully at the coffee machine, before deciding a quick stop by a café would do him better than the bitter crap in the office.

He hadn’t been sleeping well, even worse than he usually tended to, and it was only partially because of the workload regarding his research.

Outside, the air smelt of rain, and Ed regretted not taking an umbrella or something with him when he left (Riza would give him an earful if he came back dripping all over the freshly polished floors). The old coffee shop stood in a quaint corner, rather out of place in the midst of military office buildings, yet wholly welcomed by the lot. Ed knew the barista, Louise, well, and when he walked in she smiled, “Morning, Major! Usual?”

“Please.” Ed sighed, giving her a wad of cash, insisting she keep the change because he was too lazy to try and count it out, and sitting at a small two-person table towards the back of the building. He hadn’t brought any work with him, so while he waited, the alchemist kind of dazed out, just letting the ambiance of the little shop clam his nerves a bit.

A familiar female voice interrupted his tranquil state, “Edward?” He looked up in surprise, coming face-to-face with Rose’s friendly smile. He moved to stand and greet the young woman, but she motioned for him to remain seated, and took the chair across from him.

“Rose, what brings you to Central?” Ed asked curiously.

“Winry asked me to come drop off some parts with clients she has over here. And to check up on you, of course.” The Leorian responded, “Speaking of which, Edward, you look absolutely tragic!”

Ed was about to retort, but Louise came to the table with his usual coffee and sandwich. He thanked her, and took a large bite of his food before continuing where he was interrupted, “I do not look tragic, Rose, you’re being dramatic.”

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Uhh…”

Ed knew Rose wasn’t nagging just to be annoying, as the evident worry in her eyes was practically palpable. He only assumed everyone else back in Resembool would have the same expression if they saw him like this. This thought sent an arrow of guilt into his stomach, but he suppressed it quickly, changing the topic of their conversation, “Well, they say the war’s dying down a bit in the east. Some Ishvallan insurgent groups and all of the Southeastern front are still neck-in-neck, but that’s a good sign, right?”

Rose gave him a very unimpressed look, knowing full well what he was doing. She took to bait, however, to appease him, “Yeah, I heard the Fürher’s been trying to start peace negotiations, futile as it may seem. Have they begun sending soldiers home yet?”

Ed nodded with a small frown, “Hawkeye said they’re releasing some who have families and stuff to tend to at home: pregnant wives, senile grandparents, and the like. Just means the non-priority soldiers’ll have to stay out longer.”

Rose frowned as well, “Not necessarily. If there’s less conflict, then they don’t need as much workforce out there, you know?”

“I guess.” He sighed.

Rose rolled her eyes, “I know what this is about, Edward. He’ll be back soon.”

“What, did he tell you? ‘Cuz the certainly didn’t tell me.”

Rose looked cross, “He’s fighting! Not getting any response is better than a letter saying he’s dead! Do you really think digging a pity hole is going to help the situation?”

Ed looked at her angrily, then his expression dropped as he saw then emotion on her own face. He remembered the Rose of eight years previous, broken in the midst of a war, yet not fallen prey to self-pity. Sure, she had been manipulated by Dante, but everything she did was for a good greater than herself. Settling in Resembool, even, was for her son to be happy, and she took her present with such grace it was ridiculous.

Ed looked to his plate and quietly admitted, “It’s just… stressful, not knowing. God, I wish I knew how he’s doing, Rose.”

She smiled, “I know, it’s the worst. But you know what?”

“What?” Ed asked around another bite of this lunch.

“When you do find out, it’ll be worth the wait.” She stood up, “I’ve got to deliver these parts, but I’ll swing by your place tonight. We can make some dinner or something, okay?”

Ed smiled at her, “That sounds great. I’ll see ya then.”

“See ya!” She turned out the door. Ed sat at the table, alone again. Now, however, the thought of returning to his list of names wasn’t so daunting, especially with the promise of Rose’s divine cooking in his future. He took his time finishing the sandwich, and took his to-go cup of coffee back to the office with him.

Riza was the first to acknowledge Ed as he walked in, placing his cup on his desk and making as if to sit down. She held a little orange envelope out to Ed from her desk, and Ed quickly took the telegram. Seeign Riza’s small smile, he had an inkling who it could be from.

“Excuse me.” He muttered, taking the envelope into the long-closed room to his right, Roy’s private office. He pushed down the sadness at the empty desk and lack of paper heaps set out to be avoided, sitting hard on one of the large office chairs, hands shaking a bit as he opened up the folded paper. A smaller slip of paper came out, and Ed read the words greedily.

‘Coming home Oct 16, 10:00. Central West Station.

I have a surprise. Love you more than I can say.

-Roy’

--~--

After Winry hung up, stating that Trisha had awoken and needed ‘Mama time’, Ed was at a loss for what to do. He trudged back to the bedroom and changed into his day clothes (no point in pretending he may go back to nap). He threw his old clothes into the laundry basket and decided, on a whim, to change out the bedsheets and throw the old ones in with his dirty clothes. That started, Ed began obsessively cleaning the house- once the laundry was piled up, a table looked dusty, then the oven needed a wipe down, and he had to cook his own breakfast so there would be dishes, and so on, until before he knew it, the clock struck 7:00 and the phone rang.

Ed threw down the dish rag, seemingly broken from his mindless work trance, and retreated back to the office to answer it. This time, Gracia’s voice greeted him.

“Edward? How’re you doing?”

Ed sighed, but it came out as more of an exasperated laugh, “Just barely keeping it together, I guess! Trying to find something to do until I can go down to the station.”

Gracia laughed as well, sounding just as tired as he felt, “I understand the feeling. Elicia and I’ve been up for hours!”

“Have you talked to Maes?” He hoped he didn’t sound too desperate, but that hope was fairly fleeting.

“Not for about two weeks, but I haven’t heard from anyone else about him so that’s a plus, yeah?”

Ed didn’t want to tell Gracia that to him it absolutely wasn’t a plus, so he just hummed in agreement, “Roy hasn’t called or anything since the telegram. I guess we’ll see what that means today.”

“have you thought about what that surprise could be?”

“Yeah, probably too much.” Ed laughed a bit, “It’s making me even more anxious, somehow.”

Gracia laughed lightly, “Hey, so I called to ask if you wanted me to bring some lunch to the station for you. I’m already bringing some for Elicia so it’s not a big deal.”

“No thanks, I can’t eat right now.” Ed politely refused. Gracia seemed to understand, for she didn’t push the matter.

They talked lightly until Gracia hung up (something about an oven or something like that). The blonde stood in the study, anxious and with nothing to do for the next three hours.

--~--

Ed watched the tracks obsessively. He knew he’d definitely know when the train came to view, but he’d grown so anxious and excited he couldn’t do much more than sit and stare. Gracia sat beside him, reading the paper with Elicia working through a novel beside her. She seemed very composed and must make Ed look like an absolute wreck in comparison. Her day dress looked very clean and neat, whereas Ed had barely the patience to bother fully buttoning his own shirt.

Elicia noticed the train first, dropping her book and standing quickly, “Mom, Ed, I heard a whistle!” The eleven-year-old bounced excitedly as the train slowly screeched into the station. Ed felt his nerves burn deep in his abdomen, and he almost felt sick as he stood with the woman and girl, watching the train cars take far too long to slow down. Inside the train, every window was filled with blue-capped soldiers, their faces practically pressed to the glass, much like small children, in search of their loved ones. Several groups in front of Ed jumped and waved, their husbands or wives or whatever identified out of the many faces in the vehicle.

Finally, the train stopped, and the soldiers were let off one-by-one, each saluting their superiors at the doors before they were set free to find their families. Ed anxiously stood about the growing crowd of soldiers.

Hughes was the first out of the two, happily saluting his superior and running straight to Gracia, having seen her already from inside the train. HE managed to lift and spin both Gracia and Elicia at one time, an all-around bubble of joy. Seeing Ed, he shot the blonde a broad, knowing smile. After three more men, Ed finally, finally, spotted Roy. He boarded off the train, saluted, and scanned the crowd hopefully.

His eyes found Ed the moment the blonde’s feet began to move and was thusly prepared for Ed’s weight as he ran full-force into Roy’s arms. They didn’t talk for a short time, too busy trying to get each other as close as possible, as if to make up for the lost time. Then, Ed leaned back to look over the other, checking for injury.

Roy laughed, and it sounded pretty close to perfect, “I’m not hurt, Ed.”

Ed laughed too, finding his emotions burst out with his smile, “I had to make sure, you haven’t really contacted me aside from a single telegram in-“

He fell quiet, as suddenly Roy’s mouth was in the way and he was too busy kissing him back to continue his protest. “I’m sorry,” he murmured as they parted.

Ed sighed for dramatic effect, “I think I can excuse it this one time. Besides, I believe there was a surprise I was promised?”

Roy’s smile brightened, if that was possible, and he quickly looked to the superior officer at the door and back to Ed, “Of course! They should be off of the train soon; had to have a double check.”

“They?” Ed repeated, confused. Roy just smiled and took Ed’s hand, leading them to the door of the train. Looking back, Ed could spot Maes with a devilishly gleeful look, Elicia jumping around excitedly, and Gracia looking at he and Roy with a hand over her mouth. “Roy, what’s going on?” Ed asked.

They reached the doors as the superior officer helped out the last of the ensemble, two very shaken looking Ishvallan children, a boy and a girl. If Ed had to chance a guess, he’d peg them at around two or three years old. They looked around, helplessly confused, and Ed realized with a sinking feeling in his gut that their parents weren’t with them. They didn’t have anyone to meet at this station. Except…

They noticed Roy, and walked quickly in a beeline to him. As they reached the couple, the children seemed to realize that Roy had a companion and slowed shyly. The older man chuckled and squatted down to be eye-level with the two, “Molly, Gregory, this is Ed. He’s my husband.” He looked up at Ed, motioning for Ed to join him on the ground. He did, and the children seemed to look at him curiously. Roy continued, “Ed, this is Molly, and this is Gregory. Their parents asked me to… to take good care of them.” The blonde’s heart stung at the visible pain in Roy’s eye from a memory he was sure to learn of later.

He also saw a bit of uncertainty in his husband’s face. He realized that he’s been awfully non-responsive to the two so far, and Roy was essentially bringing kids into the complicated equation of their relationship. Smiling, Ed squeezed Roy’s hand affirmatively.

“Molly and Greg? Well, this is a surprise!” Roy’s grin lost it’s callous edge, seeing Ed’s positivity, and he pulled the both of them up to their original standing position.

Ed turned to the little kids, “We’ll make sure to take great care of you. I’m not very good at doing things halfway.”

Molly nodded and replied, “kay,”.

“You alk-mee too?” Gregory asked, hiding a bit behind his sister.

“A-alchemy? Yeah, I’m an alchemist.”

Roy muttered, “Greg’s blown away by alchemy. Thinks it’s the coolest thing he’s ever seen.”

Ed grinned broadly, “Well, that’s good! Cuz you’re gonna be around a lot of alchemy, right?”

The little boy’s eye sparkled, “Ya!”

Roy proffered the hand not already taken by Ed, which Molly took gladly. Greg was hand-in-hand with Molly as Roy led the little pack towards the Hughes’s, Gracia looking like she might cry, and Elicia already running to give her Uncle Roy a big welcome hug.

Ed looked back at the two kids- technically his two kids. ‘Oh, fuck I’ve got kids!’ he thought, finding himself increasingly excited about the prospect. Plus, if these kids already thought alchemy was awesome, what could possibly go wrong?

#royed #safe RoyEd #RoyEdweek2019 #royedweek #wartime romance AU #kid fic

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stumbling-through-time · 6 years

Text

Strangers in the Dark

* note: this was supposed to be a quick post, but the brain worms wiggled in and as usual blew this out of control. anywhoo, Happy Hallowmonth! *

=====

Of all the endless possible ways Kara Danvers had imagined herself dying in this place, “of embarrassment” unfortunately never once crossed her mind.

=====

Alex?

Mags?!

Guys?!?!

OH COM’ON!! Really?!?! This is NOT funny! I am so coming back to haunt you all if I die of a heart attack in here!!

“Here” is literally the last place in the world Kara Danvers ever wants to be. Halloween with all its scary lore and annoying pranks is most definitely not her cup of tea. Let alone alone in a Haunted House for crying out loud. But yet here she is, ditched by her jerk-face friends who apparently think it would be hilarious to let her fend for herself through however many rooms of terror left in this nightmare promised to “drive you to madness”.

Breathe, just breathe. She reminds herself. This is all fake remember, ALL of it, yup. Even the rotting corpse on the... its leg /did not/ just move. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Before she knows it, she’s in a full sprint down the designated path and away from the surgery table prop-thingy. She barrels through the velvet curtain that separates the sections, and finds herself surrounded by complete darkness.

So let’s recap, Kara Danvers, hates scary things to death, all by herself in a place made to scare her to bits – behind her, creepy Criminal Minds’ serial killer-y basement/ torture chamber with what may or may not be a zombie waking up; in front of her, who knows what is waiting in the abyss of the pitch darkness and quiet, so eerily quiet that her ears are ringing and she almost misses the creepily cheery circus music from a couple rooms back.

Forward, always.

Steadying herself with a deep breathe, Kara gingerly shuffles forward in the dark, keeping her feet low to the ground in case there are any “surprises” for her to trip over or step in; her hands stretches protectively out in front but not too far out because there are probably things lurking around waiting for fresh meat, eh arms, waiting to grab her arms. Dimly lit glow-in-the-dark pebbles lines the path, winding around invisible walls and hidden corners. Juxtaposed with the abject sensory overload from the all rooms that came before, this lack of well, everything, is almost worse because now, Kara’s imagination gets to run wild – cage free, free range, wild.

Survival mode kicks in and it becomes do or die. Tunnel vision, shortened breathes, every sound, every imperceptible sensation is amplified then taken to the most impossibly horrifying explanation which in turn, feeds right back into the vicious cycle. On and on her brain churns in overtime, conjuring up the scariest creatures from the deepest parts of her psyche, with the last shred of her rational mind fighting desperately to hang on. That is until something latches onto her arm and all hell breaks loose.

Fingers. No, a hand. Slow but deliberately wraps itself around her bare forearms. Unforgiving as steel and icy cold. Holding her tight in its iron grasp. As the fingers tightens their coil around her arm she realizes, slimy. Deathly cold and slimy.

And that's when she rips her arm back and bolts, and screams, ear piercing screams. Blind animalistic terror driving her on without a single thought in her head until she clears the telltale curtain that leads her into the next section.

=====

Of all the endless possible ways Kara Danvers had imagined herself dying in this place, “of embarrassment” unfortunately never once crossed her mind until it was too late.

Which is really too bad because although there’s nothing inherently scary about the setup of this next section - your run of the mill steampunky mad scientist’s lab littered with sharp pointy probes and jars after jars of grotesque indistinguishable lifeforms - adrenaline is still wreaking havoc in her system. So when a warm breathe grazes the back of her neck, Kara launches herself onto the only other person she’s seen so far.

Wait, Person, right? Was there even a person here a second ago? Please tell me this is a live human being and not one of the icky props? Or worse, another zombie? Kara’s eyes are still squeezed shut with denial, so her other senses start filling in. Warm? Yup, definitely warm. And soft. Some sort of fuzzy material like one of Ms Grant’s fancy coats. Huh, also squishy. Oh, a hint of coffee. And that blasted shampoo that I still can’t ever find. Yup, that’s the one.

A polite but pointed clearing of a throat brings her back to earth. Realization of what she’s done dawns on her, and as she slowly detaches herself from koala’ing said person’s back, she silently wonders if one could possibly die from embarrassment, and if so, how?

“I’m /so/ sorry,” Kara says flushing bright red, and looks down to pretend-adjust her glasses so she can avoid eye contact. “I didn’t mean to... Are you ok?”

“It’s not a problem really. I’m fine. You did give me quite a fright though,” the person says with a soft chuckle.

When Kara gathers enough courage to lift her eyes, she’s met with the most striking, well, most striking everything really, from those piercing green eyes, to the warm but shy smile, and the way that those jeans - stop it Kara, your gay is showing.

Summoning all of her willpower, Kara pulls her eyes back up and introduces herself properly. She soon learns that Lena is new to town and apparently is so much of a workaholic that her own assistant kicked her out of the office and sent her home with a ticket to this carnival to force her to do something fun.

And well, since the two of them are each stuck on their own to brave this deathtrap, they decided it is surely only logical that they go through it together, and not because they’ve both been making googly eyes at each other this entire time, because who is watching any ways. Not me, I’m just the narrator.

=====

“Kara I am so sorry I don’t know how I let those stupid heads talk me into this. Are you alright?” The instant she sees Kara appear through the exit of the Haunted House, Alex Danvers rushes up, apology spilling out before she even gets close and envelopes a limp Kara in a bear hug, because if she must admit, she is rather surprised to see that her sister really did survive. “Here, I got you some of your favorite funnel …” as she release her sister in order to hand her the peace offering, Alex stutters to a stop when she sees that Kara is holding hands with someone she doesn’t recognize. “So, who’s your friend?” she asked, amused that this turn of events.

“This is Lena. She’s the very nice person who saved my life when the rest of you had left me to die in there.” In spite of her words, Kara finds that her anger at her sister and dumbdumb friends has all but deflated, although she’s not quite sure when or how. Maybe, just maybe, it has something to do with the assuring presence of Lena’s hand in hers and the way it makes her heart flutters for a whole different reason. “Lena is new in town, so I’m going to show her around the rest of this stupid Halloween carnival.”

In one fell swoop, Kara grabs the plate of funnel cake drowned in powdered sugar, and dramatically turns and walks away from her dumbfounded sister, all the while still happily holding on to Lena’s hand. “Come on Lena, let’s go.”

#my brain did a thing #supercorp #fan fiction #ficlets #kara danvers #lena luthor #haunted house #Happy Hallowmonth

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michellely95 · 7 years

Text

Fear of speaking.

I have sat back and watched this election closely. However, when spoken to, I have never had an opinion on this topic. I have never spoken out. I have not argued with those who support President Trump. And most of all, I did not vote in this election.

Before I get into it and get rage messages from those who are flabbergasted that I am even writing this post when I did not support Hillary or anyone in this election. Let me first explain.

I am from California. I currently live in New York. Though we always say, “every vote counts,” my junior year of high school working the polls showed me that it is not always the case. Absentee ballots or ballots of those not from the state they are currently residing in are put into a box. Voters must sign long forms to authenticate their identity, are allowed to vote with specific papers and such, then are set aside in an envelope signifying that their vote is not from a person who lives in the area. I worked the voting office during President Obama’s election in 2012. I left the location around 9PM/10PM. By the time I got home, President Obama was elected for his second term. The next day, I got into contact with the people who set up the location for voting and they told me that they had to mail the absentee ballots in. This made me confused.

Though many voters do reside in the state they vote in, what happens to students, visitors, and people who aren’t home at the time for the election. Are their votes just cast aside and counted later on in a final tally? I do understand that they could be taken to a government office to count in the larger scheme of things, but what does that say about my voice? I, an American citizen, may live in another state, so my votes are put away in another box from the rest of those who live in the state, just to be counted later on. It has always confused me, and I have always questioned the integrity of doing this. However, working that day impacted my feelings on a “free” election for a very long time.

Okay, now that’s out of the way, let me explain my predicament. Living in New York, one would always think that this state is, like California, usually very Democratic. However, this election has shown me otherwise. Everyone has seen those videos with the occasional Trump supporter arguing with a Hillary supporter in the streets of Manhattan, but let me talk to you about Staten Island. Seventy-five percent of people who live on this island are white, which says a lot coming from a young Asian girl who grew up in a Hispanic-Asian neighborhood. Living here for three years has opened my eyes to a whole new world and new community. Things are seen different here. The area I live in here is, for the most part, very white. Crime happens very rarely and most people are smart and it doesn’t happen very much. About a couple blocks from where I live, a large T was erected before the nominations were set. That same T was burned down and then resurrected, with crowds showing their support.

I have always been pointed out as Asian with my Hispanic friends in LA, but in Staten Island, I am a “cure for yellow fever”, nicknamed “Ling Ling” to my peers, told to pretend to be a nail salon lady just to be included in an organization, and made fun of due to being homesick for food I was used to eating for my entire life. I have never been hit on with “I like Asians” more than ever, however, once this election began it’s all I ever heard. It’s all harmless and fun, and I understand that, but when it comes down to it, it makes me feel more of an outsider that I have ever felt before. Trump was a popular man before the election, with some of my favorite bars selling t-shirts with the T (from above) on it. People cheered him on whenever we had one of his speeches on TV and said, “That man is going to change this country for the better.” It always broke my heart and I would laugh and shrug, acting like it never bothered me. It always sat in the back of my mind, though, tugging on my heartstrings, and reminding me, “you will never fit in here because of your color”. Even better, “I’m going to sleep with you because of your color.”

Though it’s all fun and games and all due to alcohol and it’s effects, the culmination of my experiences has all come to this. Racism, even in the most minute and “loljk” moments, exist. I am not one of “you.” The color of my skin makes me different, and because of that, I am subject to awe and wonder. My first few years of college was to fit in and blend and mix to become part of a community. However, the color of my skin avoided that. Those who also have donned the color we share have pushed their heritage to the ground, hiding from their heritage, forgetting their language, and changing themselves to fit in. Being Asian and living in an area that is predominately white, makes you one of “them.” I am defining that as what Trump called, immigrants, losers, and, ultimately, not white.

My mother was subject to the same for a very long time.She was the scary boss who expected more from those who worked. She was a “no-bullshit” kind of person, and when you let her down, she made sure you knew, picked up your slack, and moved on. She was the butt of jokes because of her accent but rose higher in her industry faster than people who had been there for years. She was respected by her bosses for her knowledge and being able to pull together some impossible tasks. She was the scary lady in the office, the one to stay away from, the one to hold your tongue with if you wanted your job, and the “what’s her problem?” kind of boss.

When TIME released an article highlighting the concept of the “tiger-mom,” everyone I knew and everyone she worked with asked us whether that’s the way our family worked. When I said, “No, my mom is actually really chill.” I was casted aside from my community and had to rediscover myself and find new friends who would embrace who I was. My mom worked really hard to get me to where I am now. She migrated from Hong Kong where she got her degree in textiles, lived in Brooklyn, ran away because of the cold, and situated herself in LA, working for a denim company for a very long time. She then realized her worth and relied on herself and her experience (and my father always supporting her in everything she does), and furthered her career, working for companies that my friends wore, that the world knew about, and are still some of the top brands today. The clothes people showed off in school and online, came from my mother and her ability.

At the end of the day, this “tiger mom” dramatization of all Asian families was wrong. Since the day I was born, I was pushed by my parents to do well in school, but never shamed me when I tried my best and failed. They helped me, got me tutors, and made sure they worked hard and made money so that I could be the best I could be.

This brings me to my ultimate point about what was in the news today. The “Muslim Ban” that was signed today broke my heart worse than anything had ever broken my heart before. This ban stretched out to also include those who had green cards and visas. Some of the most loving people I have ever met in my life are now naturalized, but donned those cards and worked hard to assimilate into a country where they could be successful and have children who were not put into societal rules based on anything else. It was about working hard, making money, and providing a good home for your family, just as my mother did with me. For those of us who were the first generation to not be immigrants, the world was our oyster. After school specials taught us to always be ourselves, to love our heritage, and to not try to conform to society’s standards of our gender. Asian cartoons and television shows were created to show us that we were not alone. These last few months have changed all of that. I am now known for the color of my skin more than my own name. I am supposed to be good at math. I am supposed to become a “doctor” or lawyer” and told not to come back unless I was either. I am a chink, a fantasy, and exotic.

This regression is my fear. Going back to be known as the Asian or the chink keeps me up at night. Being known for the sound of Chinese immigrants laying railroad tracks to link up this country, hurts me. I am proud of my heritage. I am proud of my parents and my family. I love my friends. And in those two sentences alone, many of those people are undocumented and push themselves harder than I have ever seen. I am more than a stereotype. I am not a math genius, trusty sidekick, or a martial arts master. I am me and so are the people who are living in this country. We are more than the color of our skin. I will no longer sit aside and tolerate this racism. I will not tolerate bigotry. I will not tolerate hate.

And I refuse to be sorry or cater to people who believe that all of those things are all that I, and those like me, are good for. I refuse to allow hate speech and racism push hard working citizens out of this country because those people who the world calls “aliens” are some of the most kind-hearted and hardworking people I know. I will not support families being separated due to papers.

I will not support this.

#muslim ban #donald trump #immigration

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