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elvisabutler · 10 months

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mess dress

fandom: elvis 2022 | elvis presley rating: m pairing: elvis presley ( army era ) x female plus size reader word count: 2323 warnings: thigh riding. uniform kink. mild innocence kink. public play-ish. implications for future p in v sex. author’s note: welcome to day 7 of ally’s wet hot smut summer, uniform kink with elvis presley x reader. so fun fact i've had this 95 percent finished since friday. i have also been without internet because construction knocked out my internet for the weekend. however this is done now. so this erred accidentally into a sort of public play kink thing as well. hopefully y'all enjoy it regardless. this is sort of a sequel to called ya, didn't i? but you don't have to read it for this to make sense, necessarily. i do really want to hear how y'all feel about my fics and i know i don't always reply to comments but reading them delights me so much. as always imagine who you'd like i'm not picky.

You're no stranger to Army functions, little soirees that you shouldn't be invited to but you are because your Daddy's always loved showing you off even as there were whispers about how it wasn't proper that his daughter's waist didn't taper just so. But being at one when you're involved with Elvis Presley- well, that's another thing entirely. It's one thing to be on your Daddy's arm and another to be on your boyfriend's arm knowing how that arm feels wrapped around your waist as you do things very good army brats shouldn't do.

The thing is, you want to think Elvis is willing to stay with you, you want to think he's a good man even if all the papers and the press think he's cavorting around with every girl in Europe. And he's been proving it with every innocent date and every not so innocent moment where you cry out for release as his fingers play you better than any guitar. Elvis wants to be with you and even as things are winding down in Europe, he's whispering jokes and plans about asking your Daddy if it's alright for him to whisk you away to Memphis.

"Told 'im I'd take real good care of ya. No funny business, either. Not 'less I got a ring on your finger."

After hearing that, you almost swooned like you were a Victorian maiden, the rush from hearing those simple words— that simple potential promise had your mind whirring and your heart thumping a quicker beat than it ever had in your life. Never mind that you and him already had indulged in some funny business, it was all the kind that could be hidden. Not the kind that had you filling out dresses and telling your Daddy he's got a grandbaby on the way.

Hearing that put your mind at ease and allowed you to dream a little of a future with Elvis. It allowed for a picture to be painted of you at Graceland or in Hollywood, maybe with a child or two— and a world where you might still be told you don't look proper for a woman but there's gotta be something about you that's got Mr. Presley all shook up and stuck on you. Saying yes to Elvis about going to the function was easy after that even if you had to tell him that he didn't have to get you a dress despite his arguments for doing just that.

"I-I jus' wanna show 'em how pretty my girl is. Tell 'em what they missed out on. Show Charlie I can get me a ree-spec-tuh-bull girl." He had teased, hands against your hips as he kissed your neck in front of your mirror.

Your hands should have swatted at his arms and you should have told him to keep his hands on your waist but instead you moved your hands to lay on top of his and smiled. "You will, Elvis. I'll pick something pretty and we'll have pretty pictures to look at. You'll probably even have one to take home."

A look flitted across Elvis's face that you couldn't quite put a name to and you couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at it before he shook his head. "Yeah, I can have a picture. Just— I mean it, baby, I'm gonna show ya off. Tell 'em I like ya wit' or without all this dressin' up."

It's practically comical the way you and Elvis look at each other the moment you open the door to see him standing there in his full dress uniform. You've seen him in uniform before and had told him rightfully that seeing him in it did something to you between your legs but seeing him like this? All ironed pants and dressed without a hint of a flaw had your mouth watering as your eyes traced over every inch of him, settling embarrassingly on the subtle bulge between his legs. You've felt it before but to see it look like it's starting to rise to the occasion just from looking at you right now in those slacks has your breath escaping from your lungs in a quiet whine.

Not that your boyfriend was any better, taking in the way your dress outlined your chest and your hips and practically shimmered in the light. You matched his dress uniform almost to a tee with a little feminine flair. Your mother is the one who comes upon the two of you staring at one another and tuts quietly, shooing you out the door with a shawl and a yell about how Elvis needs to bring you home before a certain time. You don't dare speak until Elvis enters the other side of his car and sets a hand on your clothed thigh.

"Honey— ya tryin' to kill me? 'Cause it's workin'. Didn't know ya—" He starts before you silence him with a kiss and a shy smile.

"I had it specially made. Thought tonight deserved something special, since you said you'd show me off, remember?" You bite your lip, knowing full well you're probably ruining your lipstick. What you're saying is the truth but a part of you, a small part that's listened to a friend or two who thinks Elvis is so sweet on you that he might want to marry you thinks this was the perfect outfit to prove you're the sort of girl who can be Mrs. Presley. All sophistication and charm that a good boy— a good man like him needs.

"I- I do. Now I'm thinkin' everyone's gonna be tryin' to steal ya from me if I show ya off. Lord, darlin'. Make a man wanna—" His breath comes out in a rush, a puff of air that moves a surprisingly errant curl from his head as you giggle.

"Maybe later? Before you take me home?" The words are questions but from the way you look at Elvis you know that he catches your meaning. That you want him to do something to you as much as he wants to do something to you. Truthfully just looking at the buttons of his uniform and every single detail on it has you clenching your legs together— forgetting that Elvis's hand is right there until he groans as he starts the car.

"Gonna be the death o'me," he mutters only to hear you laugh again and say three simple words in French.

"La petit mort."

You both know it's a little improper to have you sitting on Elvis's lap, but the night's been winding down ever so slowly and Elvis— can get away with things other men can't. Sure, this might get back to your Daddy but it's not as if he doesn't already have an inkling that Elvis is head over heels in love with you. You haven't ended up with a baby in your belly yet and that's— well, that's as good as he can hope for when it comes to the pair of you, he figures. He'll allow it as long as he can think his daughter is as pure as can be. Besides, Charlie is very good at covering for you and Elvis when things look a little more salacious than they should. Right now as Elvis's leg keeps bouncing between your thigh, you figure you'll get use out of those skills yet tonight.

The conversation is one you're not fully paying attention to, having heard half these things a million times over as you've grown up but when you feel the brush of warm air against your ear your eyes widen just a hair.

"Fallin' asleep on me, darlin'? Gonna leave me to talk to everyone by myself?" His whisper is low and inviting in a way that has you shivering just slightly as his arm grips your waist a little tighter. "That woke ya up?"

You don't trust your voice just yet especially when you feel Elvis's leg jiggling between your thighs, his knee brushing against your clit with almost every movement. Your only answer is a small hum as you smile at other people.

Elvis flashes a charming grin as he shifts both of you, allowing the bottom of your dress to cover his leg entirely and exposing your underwear covered vagina to his knee. He bounces experimentally and watches as your eyes widen and you let out a soft whimper that you quickly cover with a cough, your chest bouncing from the effort. Your thighs try and tighten around his leg in an effort to stop the bouncing only for his hand to grip your hip, reveling in the way it feels underneath his grip.

"Elvis," you hiss, turning to look at him after one particularly intense bounce as your nipples hardening in your bra and has you starting to soak through your undergarments. "What are you doing?"

"Ya been eyein' me up like a piece of meat all night, baby. Know that place 'tween ya legs has been achin' somethin' fierce 'cause of it. Didn't think ya wanted to wait. Jus' in case I gotta rush ya home." He explains like it makes all the sense in the world and you find it's hard to argue with him over it even as you know how bad this looks.

"But we're in public. Just because I wanna rip your uniform off doesn't mean we need to—" you start only to have him brush against that spot earning a bitten back whine and a grind down from you. "Elvis— oh."

It shouldn't be pleasurable, your fear of being caught and the potential shame should stop you from doing this but the only thing it's stopping you from doing is ripping off Elvis's uniform that you've seen on a million men before but none of them have been him. Maybe it's the way you had seen the bulge between his legs pressing against his pressed slacks or maybe it's because he was all dressed up to take you somewhere. To show you off. Whatever the reason was, you don't stop Elvis from moving his leg, from bouncing it just so in a way that has your vision starting to blur and has your nails digging into his other thigh in order to keep quiet.

"Gonna make a mess of us, ain't ya? Gonna stain my uniform, darlin'? Make it so I gotta tell everyone I had a lil sweat on my knee?" He mutters his filthy words against your ear and you nod as slow as you can as your eyes dart around the room and around your talking companions. Had any of them noticed what was going on?

"They ain't payin' attention. Ya a good girl, 'member? God, darlin' wanna see ya come apart in front of 'em. Do that for me, will ya? Do that and I'll ask ya daddy to marry ya tomorrow. I gotta or 'm gonna ruin ya 'fore I can."

You have to take a breath or five to be able to speak as his knee picks up speed. "You'll wear your uniform when you do? So I can see it again?"

The grin on his face is downright evil as he nuzzles your neck and places a kiss or two against it. "'Course. Jus' for you. Jus' to see ya get all hot 'n bothered 'bout it again. You gonna make a mess f'me, mama? Gonna show how I got the best girl 'round wit' ya plump yittle thighs and those big breasts a yourn? And that stomach that's softer than anythin' army issued?"

Any other time and you might feel a might bit embarrassed about the way you nod quickly. Truthfully you can feel a bit of shame when you catch the eye of one of the other women. Her eyes are a little widened and you— that should be your cue to stop but you're so close that you can't help but cast your eyes downward as Elvis follows where your eyes went.

"She's just wishin' it was her. Wishin' her date would do this to her. Don't— Don't be shy. I gotcha, darlin'. Let go f'me?"

Somehow the way he phases what is technically an order or a request as a question sends a jolt through your body and has you holding back noises that threaten to leave your mouth as you feel yourself coming. Feel that tension inside your lower belly finally release. You feel your body twitch ever so slightly as the pleasure rolls through your body as Elvis's arm tightens around you to keep you from slumping forward. Your chest heaves in the confines of your bra and your dress and Elvis's lips curl into a bit of a smirk against the back of your neck as you try and catch your breath without being too obvious. Against your backside you can feel Elvis's cock nudging you and with a bit of a smile you shift just so in order to hear him grunt.

"Are you two okay?" You both hear someone ask— maybe it's Charlie or maybe it's someone else, you're both not too sure but it prompts you to stand up, adjusting your skirt as you do and eyeing the sizable damp patch you've left on Elvis's leg in his uniform. His eyes look down before they widen and he pulls you back down to sit on it.

"We're— we're fine." A short answer said by both of you as the two of you exchange a look and you grab Elvis's hat to plop it on your head. The look Elvis gives you is filled with more love than you thought he was capable of even though you can see his still blown pupils and see the arousal lingering in those ocean blue eyes.

After a moment of staring you turn back to everyone and smile, "so what were we talking about? You've got both of us at attention."

taglist: @ab4eva , @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @precious-little-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows, @araxw, @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24, @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @kendralavon7, @chasingwildflowers, @notstefaniepresley, @wanderingelvis, @kxnnxy, @powerofelvis, @stylespresleyhearted, @be-my-ally, @mooodyblue, @pixiedustcosmos, @jessicarcates, @amydarcimarie, @flwrs4aust, @myradiaz, @adaydreamaway08, @elirobin, @goldieharry. i'm tired i don't know if i tagged everyone sorry if i forgot you..

#elvis presley #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x plus sized reader #elvis presley x you #elvis presley x y/n #army elvis #austin butler elvis #austin elvis #austin elvis x reader #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley smut #elvis presley fic #ally writes #ally's wet hot smut summer

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skzhua · 1 year

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Felix fics recommendations | SKZHUA

~ : personal favourites

I’ll keep updating this list as I keep reading. Props to all the writers here for their amazing work, you’re doing great.

WARNING: Some of these are 18+ so please look at the warnings before reading.

MAIN FIC RECS LIST

~ young & beautiful by @missinghan | 13.1k words

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~ beauty within by @changbeanie | 4.5k words

fluff, angst, beauty and the beast inspired au.

in another life. by @galactichen | 5.4k words

romance, angst, royalty!au.

wedding cake samples by @caseiloveu | 4.9k words *author privated it*

strangers to idiots who like each other a lot, fake dating, fluff, food mention, flirty felix, he has a secret but there is no conflict, only two cuties, little shit jisung, i do not know how wedding cake tasting works, i have never been to cake tasting, you are definitely able to tell that i have given up on dating apps, don't download them.

cookie taste tester by @/caseiloveu | 3.2k words *author privated it*

part two of wedding cake samples. can be read as a standalone.

idiots who like each other a lot (to lovers), fluff, food mention, flirty felix (again but more flirty this time), maybe a bit suggestive but not really, felix is just gorgeous and you don't know how to deal with it, jisung makes another apperance, bonus points if you guess who the flour-buttprint menace is, minors and ageless blogs dni.

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fanforthefics · 6 years

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Sid/Geno, Sherlock Holmes AU? C=

1) There is no reason for Sidney to like Malkin. Malkin is in many ways everything Sidney cannot stand–he is overloud and flamboyant, he moves through the world with no care for the people around him, he wastes away his brilliance on drugs and music and only sometimes emerges to deign to solve a crime. There is no reason for Sidney, a man of routine and quiet and service, to like him–except that he does. Except that Malkin is also kind to children and animals, and he is a bloodhound on the scent when the case begins, and he invited Sidney in when he was little more than a shell of himself and did not judge him for it, and sometimes when Sidney has added his small contribution to a case–a bit of medical or military knowledge, generally, though sometimes it is his strong right arm–Malkin looks at him with amazed eyes and calls him brilliant and looks like he believes it. It’s hard not to like that. It’s hard not to stay, for that.

2) Geno spends the first year they live together waiting for Crosby to leave. He has no illusions about who he is or what it is like to live with him, and Crosby is many wonderful, delightful things, but he is not a patient man. Geno dreads the day Crosby decides to leave, more than he would like to admit. He has never relied on a person before, never known what it would mean to have someone listen to his deductions with wide awed eyes and care about their opinions, never known how it would feel to wake in the morning and knew someone would be at the breakfast table and have that drive him out of bed. Though he would admit it to no one, he thinks he could keep this forever. But Crosby was the pride of the British army, once–the tone of voice of a man used to giving orders, the letters that sometimes coming bearing seals of important men, the undeniable way his mind clicks along through stratagems and tactics, nothing like his own mental acuity but useful in its own way, and definitely the best of that way. And Geno cannot imagine that he will not tire of Geno and his little flat eventually.

3) Geno takes the case because he is bored, and because when the victim mentions the name of his employer, Crosby’s heartbeat picks up and his head tilts down, as if to hide his face. He has been distracted lately, taken up by the letters that continue coming from all the important men he corresponds with and his family, and going out to meeting with those important men, though he would never say as much. The case itself does not interest Geno overmuch, plebeian and not worth his time from the sound of it, but it would not do for Crosby to become bored as well. He tells the man they’ll take the case, and sends him on his way. After, Crosby fixes him with a skeptical look, darker than is his wont. “You were not predisposed to take this case,” he points out. Geno is, as always, delighted by how well Crosby can read him, if no one else.

“No,” he admits, “But now I have, so we must go–”

“Malkin,” Crosby says, and reaches out to grab Geno’s forearm. No one touches Geno much; Crosby is the first. He wonders if it always feels like fire and chains, if other people were to put their arm upon his shirt. “This case will do you no good. I know his employer, from the wars.” Crosby’s hand closes tightly on Geno’s arm, an involuntary reaction–an unwilling memory. “He is not a man to deal honestly.”

That is the most Crosby has ever said of his time in the army. Geno has deduced much of it, of course, but he also knows that Crosby’s nightmares come from something he does not know. It is not a thought he likes. “And I am not a man to be fooled,” he declares, and plucks his coat from the hook. “Come, Crosby. The case is afoot!”

4) The case goes awry, as Sidney knew it would the instant Bettman’s name was mentioned. He follows after Malkin regardless, because without him Malkin would stumble into the lion’s den and tell the lions how many teeth they had but not notice their mouths closing until too late, but he is not pleased about it. He is much less pleased when he ends up captured, and tied to a chair in what appears to be a warehouse, and Bettman walks in, chuckling. “Well,” he says, and Sidney manages not to roll his eyes. “This is just like old times, isn’t it?”

5) Geno is not a stupid man. Geno is in fact the smartest man, and so he knows when he alone is unmatched. Going in to retrieve Crosby alone has a 64% chance of failure, which is unacceptable. Geno’s own resources, his network of spies and informants, are not of much use to him. The police might be more, but they are too often slow to act. Slowness might mean Crosby’s death, another unacceptable outcome. So he sets his jaw and goes to court. It takes him a number of threats, lies, and a spot of blackmail, but then he is standing in front of the most important of Crosby’s important men. “Well?” asks Lord Mario Lemieux, Commander of Her Majesty’s Armies. “You’ve taken quiet some effort to be here. I assume you want something?”

Geno draws himself up to his full height, and stares him down. He is not overfond of authority figures, and is less fond of men who try to tempt Crosby away from Geno back to the army that left him injured and haunted. But he is not a stupid man, so he just snaps, “Sidney Crosby has been kidnapped. I require your assistance in retrieving him.”

Lord Lemieux does not hesitate before rising. The concern on his face is comforting, at least; this is a man who understands the urgency of the situation. “Who took him?” he demands, like a father worried for his child, and Geno cannot relax, with Crosby missing, but he at least thinks that in this, he has an ally. The chance of failure has gone down to acceptable levels.

6) Crosby is already on his feet and just finishing knocking the last of Bettman’s henchmen to the ground when Geno bursts in, Lemieux and his men hot on his heels. He looks up, and he smiles to see Geno. “Malkin!” he exclaims, then, “Lemieux? What are you doing here?”

Lemieux takes in the scene. “I was told my assistance would be needed, but it seems we were mistaken.”

Crosby’s lips twitch. Geno is irrationally angry. He had been smiling because of Geno, not Lemieux. “One day, you will stop underestimating me, my friend.”

“On the contrary. I believe I know exactly your worth.” Lemieux gives the room another look, then takes half a step forward. “Crosby, you must see, what you can do–”

Crosby’s gaze sweeps the room. He seems to be considering it. Geno steps forward. “If we may proceed–” He lets the words snap out into the room– “I believe we have a villain to arrest.”

“You’ll find him in the study, I believe,” Crosby remarks, pointing towards a door. “I believe that is where he spent his time, when not–entertaining himself, with me.” The words are said flatly, but Geno takes another look–a slight hesitation in the movement of Crosby’s left arm, a stiffness in his back. Broken ribs, possibly a broken arm. No damage to the face; unsurprising, as body blows tended to do more damage for less risk of permanent harm. Geno does not take risks. He knows precisely how he will strike Bettman, for this.

They arrest Bettman, and Crosby keeps Geno from exacting the full revenge he would like to. Before they leave–Lemeiux to deal with Bettman, and Geno with Crosby to their flat, with a doctor on the way–Geno sees Lemieux and Crosby in conversation, but their heads are tilted so he cannot read their lips. Crosby’s doing, if he had to guess. He could attempt to find an angle at which he could see, but instead he goes to hail a cab. He knew this day would come, but delay seems the order of the hour.

7) “I believe I will bathe for a week,” Sidney says, when the doctor has gone. Malkin had hovered throughout the entire examination, like he might have some input though the practicalities of medical science have never interested him; now he swoops around the room like it is too small to hold him. Sidney watches him until he cannot bear it any more. “Sit, please. You’re giving me a headache.”

To Sidney’s surprise, Malkin sits, dropping into his armchair with his elbows braced upon his knees. He looks surprisingly serious, for a man who had just solved a case and acquired a favor from the Lord Commander–not that Sidney was short of favors from Lemieux. “Is the case not done?” Sidney asks.

“No, it is done. Though I would hire a few Whitechapel thugs to go to the Old Bailey,” Malkin mutters the last bit. Sidney shakes his head, unduely fond.

“I did not know you cared so much,” he teases gently. “Such revenge, for a few bruises.”

“They were not bruises,” Malkin spits. He looks at the fire for a moment, then turns to Sidney all at once, with the full force of that amazing mind behind his eyes. “Lemieux wants you to return to the army.”

“Yes,” Sidney agrees, though Malkin has never needed his confirmation.

“You could be of great use there,” Malkin observes. “The army has need of men like you. I presume Lemieux is offering you a high position. You–”

“Do you think I would leave?” Sidney interrupts. Malkin goes a sudden, blotchy red, which is confirmation enough. Sidney laughs, though it hurts his ribs. “You foolish man,” he says, still laughing. “I have served my country. Now it is time for my retirement, and I plan to spend it here.”

“With me?” Malkin asks, and the flush remains high on his cheeks. His eyes are wide like a child’s might be, presented with a truth they had not yet considered.

“If you’ll have me,” Sidney replies. He’d known that months ago. He’d known that tied to a chair and confident that Malkin was coming. He’d known that when he told Lemieux no this afternoon, perhaps regretful but sure.

Malkin is on his feet again, but only to fold himself to his knees next to the couch, where he takes Sidney’s hand and moves it slowly, with more care not to injury him than Sidney has seen him take with anyone. “I would have you stay with me, Sidney,” he says solemnly. He brings Sidney’s knuckles to his mouth, and Sidney feels the warmth of it through his bones.

#pens fic #sidgneo #my fic #so this is...far from canon let's say #maybe more the RDJ movies?#maybe more a fic of sherlock fic?#maybe just a victorian-ish fic?#who knows #it's hopefully still fun!#not very case heavy because cases are hard to write sorry #zhenya71 #pens tumblr fic

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goldenzingy46butwriteblr · 3 years

Note

I'm going on a long plane ride soon, and I really need long Tomarry fics (that are completed preferably.) I like time travel stories, serial killers, basically anything that I can totally escape into please please please please :D

Fuck yeah, I’ve got you.

Sky Full Of Glass by SofiaBane

The Horcruxes have become unstuck in time, and it’s the responsibility of the Master of Death to figure out why. And since Voldemort needs to be punished for transgressing into the realm of Death anyway, he might as well come along.

A quite delightful take on the Master of Death Harry, who has complete dominion over space and time, too. 20k.

Nose to the Wind by Batsutousai

While Harry had been content with his second chance, that didn't keep him from thinking what he could have done different, how many people could have survived if he hadn't been set on the very specific path he'd walked. Third time is the charm, though, right?

Now, I have no doubt that you already know this one, but how could I leave it off a rec list? The prequel is also fantastic. 211k.

The Ouroboros by WyrmLivvy

Once upon a time, a woman wished to have a child with the man she loved, that would have his porcelain skin as white as snow, his rosy cheeks red as blood, and his dark hair black as ebony. …

The child was not born with red cheeks but red eyes.

(Tomarry vampire/fairy tale/Snow White AU)

Now, this is not quite time travel or serial killers, but it’s absolutely fantastic all the same, and absolutely worth the read. Fantasy, dark-ish, and a happy ending. 20k.

The Eyes in the Bramblebush by relic_crown

For a long time, Tom was just another violinist, perfect and beautiful and boring. Then Harry truly saw him, and knew he was anything but boring - he was the edge of a pocketknife, the red of nightshade berries, a lie in a crisp black coat.

Harry had never fallen in love so quickly.

Once again, technically neither time travel nor serial killers, but it is most certainly something to sink your teeth into. 12k.

Darling, do you remember what you did? by Baryshnikov

Tom had been waiting to do this.

Waiting for a very, very long time.

Oh, this is gloriously dark, with knifeplay and power games galore. 13k, technically a WIP, but you’d be missing out if you didn’t read it.

Mania by Angel_Of_Mysteries

Harry and Tom have been together for two years, and Harry’s finally ready to take their relationship to the next level. Little does he know, so is Tom.

I can’t say much on this without spoiling it, but it’s wonderfully painful. 9k.

No Body, No Crime by duplicity

Harry works as a car mechanic in a small town. He and Ginny are best friends, their close bond the product of a traumatic event that scarred them both as children.

Now that they are adults with separate lives, it seems inevitable that they will drift apart. That is, until Ginny confides in Harry that she thinks her husband—the charming, enigmatic Tom Riddle—is cheating on her.

A day later, Ginny goes missing. Harry is convinced that Tom is behind her disappearance, and becomes determined to exact justice by any means necessary.

This one was so goddamn painful, but so brilliant. 20k.

God of Nothing by machiavelli

The other orphans avoid Tom Riddle like the plague. He lounges on his broken throne, watches the whispers fade around him with sharp, dark eyes. Nobody can quite work out why he seems so fascinated with the new boy, who walks in smelling of smoke and hasn't said a word in three days.

I remember following this one as each of the chapters came out, and by the gods it was glorious. In a much darker universe, half tinged with madness, Harry and Tom meet, and it’s perfect. 83k.

dust in your pocket by relic_crown

Two hundred years ago, the world died.

All that remains is a technicolor wasteland, swirling with ash and populated by radiation-warped humans. Tom, immortal and bloodthirsty, crowns herself queen of this ruined world and wanders it namelessly, building and burning empires at will.

Then there's Harry: eyes like chips of sea glass, hopeful in the face of the apocalypse -- and by far the most dangerous person Tom's ever met.

Holy shit. An almost steampunk AU, femslash, and completely incredible in every single way. 24k.

Dreams and Darkness Collide by Epic Solemnity (Dark_Cyan_Star)

Though he was raised without the expectation of saving the world, Harry still possesses a savior complex. Only, it's so dark and twistedly immoral, he created an alter ego to practice vigilantism. His second identity makes a name for himself and immediately ensnares Minister Riddle's complete and obsessive attention. A game of cat and mouse begins and morals are questioned.

One of my favourites, although I’m pretty sure it’s been abandoned. Vigilante!Serial killer!Harry and Minister!Riddle, who still runs the Death Eaters, and makes for one dangerous, tantalising romance. 209k.

Footsteps On Empty Floorboards by AgonisedDaily

After a recent screw-up on the job whilst hunting a serial killer, Harry needs a break from being an Auror. His new Victorian house promises just that, but living with the restless spirit of a former Dark Lord isn't quite part of the peace and quiet he was hoping for.

Okay, okay, okay, I know you said completed works only, but I’m incapable of leaving this beauty off my rec list. Maybe I’m just a sucker for darker things, but I think this is beautiful. 125k.

Break and Burn and End by duplicity

Harry Potter has died over and over again: in a cradle, in a graveyard, in a courtyard. If Harry Potter has ever lived, if he was the accumulation of years filled with burdens and grief, he has long since warped into someone else.

So let Harry Potter die, let his legacy run like ink through the pages of history until it dries for evermore. The world is better off without Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort both, so Harry will kill the one of them that he can and hope it will be enough.

OR: Past and present, Harry and Voldemort are connected. A tale of two immortals and the question of what it means to have an adversary when forever is in the cards.

Immortals AU of letting go and healing. I love it. 17k.

I hope this is enough, and, as always, I had fun making it! I will do the customary my fics are great please read them at the end, but considering most of them are WIPs or oneshots, I won’t include them as serious fic recs. You’ve been spared.

#fic recs #tomarry #harry potter #fic rec list

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subhlibrary · 3 years

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more sub harry fics ♡

idk what to call these but there’s some pwp at first then longer ish fics i rlly liked

My Sweet Girl fournipplesau (10k)

"How do you feel about being daddy today?"

Louis gives him a quick smile before turning back to the road. "I don't mind." He squeezes Harry's knee harder, thumb brushing over his soft skin. "Why?"

"Because I want to be daddy's baby girl tonight,"

this kitten's got your tongue tied in knots by ballsdeepinjesus (3k)

it's halloween, harry is a kitten in a tree and louis is a (fake) firefighter.

Keep Me Closer by zanni_scaramouche (18k)

Louis expects Harry to react poorly, maybe even file a formal complaint and that’s gonna suck ass but Louis won’t say shit cause he knows he deserves it, so he prepares an apology before Harry’s even turned around.

What he doesn’t expect is Harry to fucking drop.

I'm A Spark And You're A Boom by twinkotp (3k)

the one where Harry needs a babysitter and his mother hires Louis

Coming and Going by taggiecb (7k)

Harry is a shy loner looking for someone who will help him discover his new found sexual fantasies. Louis is a lonely writer who doesn't realize how much he has secluded himself. They are brought together by a simple ad, and a common interest.

into another (another) serotonin overflow by mercutionotromeo (11k)

Sweet first time sex wherein Harry's adorably awkward, Louis is achingly cool, and Harry rides Louis wearing his jersey.

hand over by crybaby

‘Twenty one things to try before 21,’ he reads aloud, voice lilting with amusement.

You Were My New Dream by princesshalo (49k)

~Tangled AU~

Prince Harry has spent the majority of his life trapped within the castle walls, forced to hide from the kingdom he never asked to be born into. He doesn’t want to be the next King of Eroda, because according to his father, kings don’t wear dresses, paint their nails, or braid flowers into their magical hair. And Harry happens to love those things about himself, almost as much as he thinks he could love the new combat instructor his father has summoned to mold him into a more acceptable man, just in time for his impending coronation.

Victorian Boy by audreyhheart (100k)

Victorian AU. Harry the virgin Duke of Somerset knows little of love, while Louis the sly Duke of Warwick knows too much. When the two dukes come together for the Bilsdale fox hunt in York, Harry finds himself drawn into Louis' bed. But when secrets from Louis' dark past come to light, Harry fears that the fox isn't the only one being hunted.

Ever Since I Tried Your Way by flowercrownfemme (25k)

In 1949 Harry left his bride at the altar, running away from the only life he'd known. When a kindhearted farmer offers him a ride in his truck and a place to sleep the two find themselves inexplicably drawn together. Isolated on Louis' farm with nobody but a field of dairy cows to intrude, the men are finally able to explore the parts of themselves they've spent their lives hiding away.

gorgeous (it makes me so mad) by resurrectdead (29k)

Harry’s a coffee barista with nothing really going on for him except for the occasional flirting with, some, particularly hot male customers. But when a new guy starts coming in, he suddenly doesn’t know what to make out of any single situation anymore.

or: Harry is a hot mess. Liam is a brilliant roommate. Niall is a wise lesbian co-worker. Clifford is a good boy. Louis is a bad boy. Circumstances are bizarre.

Before You Speak, Don't Move by lavenderlilypad (45k)

“We took Spanish together freshman year? You’re also in my best friend Zayn’s fraternity and I say hi to you like, all the time.”

Louis doesn’t look very much convinced even as Harry’s coming to stand in front of him, which one would think should jog his memory.

“Yes, but have we ever held an actual conversation,” Louis says, eyebrows knit together. “I take classes with lots of people.”

Harry is looking for a drastic change, and Louis offers him a deal he can't refuse.

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purekesseltrash · 3 years

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My Fic List

Whelp, decided I should do one of these. I have mostly written for Hockey RPF and BNHA, as you have likely already seen!

My BNHA Fics

Bury Them Deep

- “Shouji Mezou's entire life has revolved around being a goalie and playing hockey since he was five years old. After being drafted in the third round in the NHL, Shouji has two more years of college before moving on to playing professional hockey like he's always wanted. Or at least like he always thought he wanted. An injury that ends his season throws him into a tailspin, forcing him to take a look at his life and how he is going to live it, especially after meeting his fascinating new goth history tutor.”

(This bad bitch is 81k total and is chock full of my red hot hockey takes and midwestern references. I love it very much and it is a sweet baby.)

The Rooftop Necromancy series AKA my black metal band AU:

Downhill from Here

- “ Hizashi just wants to tour the country with his best friends with their metal band in their shitty van like they've been planning for years. He'd successfully hidden his crush on one of them for years, after all, he would definitely be able to make this work and keep things fun and uncomplicated. Until Aizawa decided to start acting weird. “

(In which I take you all on a nostalgic trip to 2006-2008 metal culture and you can see the black metal love song that my dumb ass wrote.)

The Perfect Mistake

- “ It wasn't as though Hizashi had planned on breaking up with his boyfriend while they were on tour in a tiny cargo van with no room and no peace. He would have much rather preferred to do it when they were home and he could easily go and crawl back into his mom's basement. But he didn't have a choice. “

(As relationships tend to do, theirs goes through problems.)

Rooftop Necromancy

-"He’d even ended up leaning into the crowd when someone’s elbow had connected solidly with his nose and thrown him back. They’d gone quiet as Hizashi got himself up to his feet, ripped off his now bloody ‘Within Temptations’ tshirt from 2004, whipped his hair back from his face and screamed, “That’s what I’m FUCKING talking about.” into the mic.

They went wild for it, cheering as blood ran down his nose, past his mouth and dripped onto the stage, leaving him feeling like an otherworldly monster performing an occult ritual. Metal, he thought dazedly to himself, why in the fuck had he ever stopped doing metal."

(I hyperfocused so hard at the idea of Mic as a metal head that I wrote this in seven straight hours and WROTE THROUGH THE ATTEMPTED COUP ON DEMOCRACY WITHOUT KNOWING IT. It’s a bit rough, but it’s got some good parts and it spawned the whole damn series.)

Hands Up

- "But of course he had, they had always been able to read each other and what they meant. That had often been their problem, if he was going to be honest."

(In which they figure their shit out. Basically it was written when I was thinking alot about how my own mental health had evolved through the years. It’s basically the story of two people who are both very good for each other and also very bad and how they deal with that. It’s probably the most personally meaningful thing I’ve ever written.)

The other BNHA fics:

Waking Up With Ghosts

-"Hizashi opened his eyes to a world that belonged to ghosts. His headphones were gone and the gray, grimy world that he felt more than saw was muffled and still. This was bad, he hazily thought."

In which we follow Hizashi shortly after the events of 296. How he's found, how he finds out and how he has to tell.”

(I fished this one out of the garbage of my Google Docs because I’d written most of it and forgotten about it. I dragged it out, prettied it up a little and threw it up on AO3. It is by far my most well read BNHA fic, go figure.)

Leave Her Johnny

-”Captain Hizashi Yamada has combed the Seven Seas looking for the elusive smuggler Eraserhead. He has spent years searching for him, tracking his movements and trying to anticipate where he would be next. But he had never considered what would happen when he finally found him. “

(I wrote a paragraph of this and was immediately like ‘I MUST CREATE THIS’. I take some chances writing wise in this as the whole thing is done in a Victorian Era ish style of writing. But I think it’s effective and the ending is likely one of the best that I’ve ever managed. I’m proud of it.)

Gold Rush

-”"That earned him a laugh and Mashirao’s smile made something in his chest ache, something that made him want to hurt. Why had he ever left?

“I’m really not,” Mashirao was saying but Shinsou just shook his head and kissed him once, twice and wished he could take the sunny afternoon and make it stay forever. Make it stay forever like Mashirao somehow had, while the neighborhood had adjusted without Hitoshi’s permission.

“You are,” he said, “And I love it.”

I love you, he should have said. But as Mashirao’s eyes softened and the blonde pushed him back against the bed, Hitoshi knew he didn’t need to say it."

(You know how sometimes you listen to a Death Cab for Cutie song about gentrification over and over until a fic comes out? Because that’s basically what happened here.)

Black Sun

‘"But then he remembered the way that Shouji had eaten the night after, one hand curled into his hair as he hung back in the corner. Shouji hid when something was wrong, like a wounded cat trying to find a dark place to either live or die and he was being released tomorrow. Now was the time to push or he’d find Shouji right back on his bed, staring at nothing."

Something happened to Shouji on the beach. Tokoyami is sure of it.‘

(Aaaaaand Death Cab for Cutie strikes again. But heyo, my first published ShouToko and it is SOFTTTTT)

In the Far and Mighty West

Mic came closer and despite himself, Shouta could not find it in him to feel afraid. “You won’t understand, not really. I’ll try, though. I’m like Pecos Bill or Paul Bunyan or a jackalope or that fish that your friend caught that he swears he brought in but that you’ve never seen proof of. I’m the herd of dogies moving sweet and steady in the right direction, I’m no stragglers to worry about, I’m that perfect dog that’s there to keep them in line. I’m that group of good friends that you would kill for, I’m the woman who you’re dying to come home to, I’m that promised home of milk and honey. I’m Mic.”

Shouta stared at him dazedly and licked his lips, feeling drunk and stupid as he stared at the man. “You’re… magic?”

“I suppose you could call me that.”

(Cowboy!Erasermic. Inspired heavily by American Gods and my own love of folk heroes.)

In Your Violence

- “'Mezou frowned, eyes narrowing. “Are you trying to say that you’re scared that I’ll be killed by having faith in you?”

“It would be in your best interest to stay away from me,” Fumikage finally said, his voice falling flat and quiet. “I am destined to be a monster.”

'Mezou gets the call he fears, the one that says that Fumikage has lost control again. But this time it's different, in more ways than one.”

(I listened to Silence by Marshmello until I went insane in this is the result. Featuring some of my super depressing headcanons about Shouji! But it’s not awful.)

My hockey fics that I still like:

Hufflepuff Halfwit

- ““Zhenya, the wind is coming from the west, I will not remind you again. You shut that window before the house stinks of factories!” She snapped and Geno stared at the owl as though maybe it would know what to do. But instead, it had given a little hoot and wiggled inside, only to drop it’s letter on the counter.

He turned his head very slowly back to look at his mother, who had suddenly gone very quiet. “It… just showed up, Mama. And um. It brought a letter.” He waited again, looked back at the owl who had begun to nose at the pirozhkis in interest and then looked back at his mother with the best puppy dog eyes he had ever attempted. “Can I keep it?”

(This is a part of my hockey/Harry Potter au that still legitimately haunts my dreams. It’s basically a Sid/Geno in Hogwarts but I really love the world building I got to do with Koldovstoretz, the Russian school of wizardry. Don’t read ‘On the Word of a Slytherin’ though, I’m not as proud of that one.)

The Prince

- “What the fuck.” Matt breathed out, sitting back heavily onto his hotel bed as he stared at his phone.

‘This is Henrik.’ The text read. ‘I would like to meet you. I will book a room in Pittsburgh at your convenience. Let me know what time will work for you.’ -

(Listen, it’s Henrik Lundqvist/Matt Murray smut, I feel like that is novel and interesting and worth your attention. I wax poetic on goalies in this, as you do.)

The Zoo of Toronto

- “No one missed it when a massive porcupine had shuffled in between the reporters with a single minded focus, pushing media away until it was able to grip onto Phil’s suit pants and try to pull itself up. He hadn’t been able to do more then besides pick the animal up before it could shred his pants to shreds and walk out of the locker room before the decision had been made with the Toronto media.

Phil Kessel was guilty.”

(Not gonna lie, this is probably my favorite of the hockey fics I’ve written. And it’s Phil/Carl, which is never found anymore but it was a good pairing.)

#my writing

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aminiatureworld · 3 years

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WAIT OMG!! IM SO HAPPY TO SEE YOUR REQUESTS OPEN AAAAA IF YOU DONT MIND!! I JUST ABSOLUTELY LOVE YOUR WRITING!! THEY'RE VERY IN CHARACTER AND😭💞💞💞 I have so many ideas in mind pls HHSHD

U can pick one- whichever you're in the mood for!!

Fluff: maybe zhongli being jealous of a plushie version of himself(and maybe the rex lapis statue) bc the reader seems so fond of it!! Reader doesnt know that he's rex lapis hehe how would he react? BFNFNF would he be fond of reader? A bit frustrated? Accidentally blurt out his real identity?? AAAA THE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS!!

Angst(hurt/comfort ish?): kinda hanahaki au!! the reader confessing to zhongli, but he declines! He dearly loves the reader, but he wants them to live their life to the fullest. He doesnt want the reader to feel the burden of growing up alone while their lover remains youthful. The reader refuses contact with him or anyone for a while!! But they get confused bc why aren't they coughing up flowers? Zhongli doesn't love them back, right? Maybe they confront zl!!

AAA I HOPE THIS ISNT TOO SPECIFIC?? IM SO SORRY IF IT IS AND FEEL FREE TO CHANGE ANYTHING IF EVER!! AND DO REMEMBER TO TAKE BREAKS!! LOOKING FORWARD TO READING MORE OF YOUR WORKS!!!

Hello!

Firstly thank you so much! I’m glad you like my writing so much. And I always love to hear ideas, so thank you for sending them my way!

Secondly because the request before this way also about jealousy I decided to take on the second prompt. Though I might stick the other one in my back pocket to write later, if you don’t mind of course.

Now, about the prompt. I’ll be completely honest I didn’t know what Hanahaki was before this request. I’ve probably heard of it in passing, but I did have to Google it to find out what I was working with. Since I wasn’t very familiar with the details of the trope I ended up lifting most of the symptoms from tuberculosis – which I learned is a lot more “common” than I thought, though it’s still considered rare in most developed countries about 1.4 million people die from it a year – which I kind surprised about considering it’s passed via air particles and not by things like foul water but antibiotic resistant mutations, etc.; I digress. Anyways if some of the rules are off that’s why.

I didn’t talk about the actual disease too much in the end since the reader isn’t supposed to have it. Instead I focused more on the idea of how would somehow act if they thought they were doomed to die. I think it was a very interesting thing to explore, although funnily I think if you really picked through the fic you’d be able to figure out a lot of media I consume, since I feel a lot of my ideas stem from various media I’ve read as to death and love and immortality.

I also made the ending positive to ambiguous. I might write a more concrete part later, but I felt the ending fit the general atmosphere a little better. Just because my brain took this prompt and somehow ran all the way back to romanticism.

Speaking of which I thought it was very funny that Hanahaki in some ways reminds me of the romanticization of tuberculosis in the Victorian era. It was just kinda interesting to note.

Anyways sorry for rambling so much, but my thought process for writing this was very extensive and all over the place. I hope you don’t mind me going into it a bit, I think it’s kinda interesting, even if it’s probably not.

Here it is! I hope it’s what you’re looking for and I hope you enjoy!

#asks #onigiree #requests

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missroserose · 3 years

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Wednesday Reading Meme: Atmospheria Edition

Hello, tumblr! I used to post these over on Dreamwidth, but for the past two and a half years, I’ve been reading almost exclusively fanfiction, with only occasional forays into book-land. I’ve thought occasionally about writing about the fic I was reading, but frankly, most of it was short-ish works intended for easy gratification. (Not that I'm knocking easy gratification! But a 3500-word story about a captive Dean Winchester watching an evil version of himself and Castiel have sex is...entertaining, certainly, just maybe not in a way that lends itself to a lot of deeper analysis.) (Well, other than perhaps a judicious use of the "this better not awaken anything in me" meme. Ahem.) That said! I've read a lot of fanfiction over the past few years, and plan to continue. So I think I'm going to add a Fanfiction Spotlight slot to the Wednesday Reading Meme format. Chances are there'll have been something I've read in any given week that feels like it deserves attention. And in the meantime, I’ve been reading Actual Paper Books lately, largely as a way to wean myself of the doomscrolling habit...and since I’m low-key boycotting Goodreads these days, I figure I’ll try writing about them here.

So without further ado...

What I've recently finished reading The Starless Sea, by Erin Morgenstern. I'd previously read The Night Circus on a long-ass plane flight, and it turned out to be almost the perfect book for it—pure escapism so heavily drenched in dreamy poetic atmosphere that I could sink into it like a hot bath, and forget for much of the six-hour flight time that I was crammed into a tiny coach seat. Sea is definitely in that same vein, but this time around I found the thinness and uncertainty of the plot to be rather more frustrating, in a way that overpowered the richness of the atmosphere. There was still plenty there to enjoy, including a portal fantasy to any bibliophile's world of pure wish-fulfillment, and some meditations on love and change, and one quote in particular on the nature of love that's stuck with me...but I don't think the whole thing hangs together as well as it promised, at the start. And while (as a fellow author) I completely understand that things change as you write them, when you reach a point in a story where it feels like the author has as little idea as you do what happens next, I find it a little demoralizing. Morpho Eugenia, by A.S. Byatt. Now that I think about it, this novella makes for an interesting comparison to Sea, because it's similarly atmospheric, albeit less in the dreamy-imaginative-lovers-and-poets vein than the neo-Victorian highly-organized-and-tightly-laced-household-full-of-dark-undercurrents style. It also does absolutely nothing surprising, plot-wise; it's 180 pages long and I think I'd identified most of the major themes and guessed the major arcs/big plot reveal by page fifteen. That's not necessarily a fault in and of itself—there's something comforting about a story that does exactly what you expect, and it does a good job threading the needle of ladling on the foreshadowing without (quite) hitting you over the head with what's going on. But frankly, the narrative stumbles somewhat in its slavish devotion to form. As an example: our protagonist is an entolomologist and atheist, penniless in the wake of a shipwreck that robbed him of his specimens and research, who finds himself living on the largesse of a wealthy family whose patriarch has an interest in natural philosophy. So there are, of course, extensive passages on the nature and habits of various insects (meant to be excerpts from his work), on the potential space for the existence of God in natural selection (meant to be arguments from the patriarch), and even an extensive semi-allegorical insectoid fairy tale (written by another character entirely), which...certainly is all in keeping with the Victorian style, but none of which really feels particularly necessary to the story, here in this age where encyclopedias are a thing and anyone reading a neo-Victorian novella probably has at least a passing familiarity with the Deist arguments being held in the wake of Darwin's publication of On the Origin of Species. Some cynical part of me wonders if Byatt was trying to write a whole novel, only to discover that the main thrust of her story was nowhere near substantial enough to support one, and even with all the padding she only managed to reach novella length. What I'm currently reading Technically I haven't started it, but The Conjugial Angel is the other Byatt novella in the collection I picked up, so I'm probably going to power through that just so I won't feel guilty about tossing the book on the "to be donated" pile. If it's anything like Morpho Eugenia, I expect to feel thoroughly "meh" about it, but hey! Maybe I'll be surprised! What I plan to read next I have two specific recommended-by-friends books in my queue. The first is Aleksander Solzhenitsyn's One Day In The Life of Ivan Denisovich, which I'm rather looking forward to despite my somewhat uneven relationship with Russian literature. It was recommended to me by @coffeeandchemicals, and the bits and pieces of Solzhenitsyn I've encountered in the wild make me suspect I'll find his perspective interesting. And even if I end up hating it, well...it's short. The second is Margo Lanagan's book Tender Morsels, which I know very little about other than it's a dark fairy tale. But it was sent by @introvertia, who's become quite dear to me, and the theme of it (the jacket cover promises an Edenic tale of three women turned out of their personal Heaven and having to deal with the harsh realities of the outside world) certainly feels appropriate to 2020. Fanfiction Spotlight I was particularly taken with the premise of @zoemathemata's Supernatural/Supernatural RPF story "Folie a Deux". Sam and Dean Winchester are held captive in Lofty Pines Mental Institution for unknown reasons, slowly being brainwashed into thinking that they're two run-of-the-mill dudes named Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki...or are Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki two men suffering from the delusion that they're supernatural-creature hunter brothers named Sam and Dean Winchester? And if they're brothers, how do they square that with the fact that they can't seem to keep their hands off each other...? It's a clever idea, with the sort of meta-analytical flavor that's very in keeping with the show itself, and zoemathemata makes full use of the opportunity to break down the many inconsistencies and flaws that any long-running serialized story accumulates but that we, the audience, overlook for the sake of the Plot of the Week. My one personal complaint about it is that it ends too soon—the most immediate plot threads are resolved but there's a distinct sense that this is the beginning rather than the ending. The author says in the comments that they didn't continue it in part because they couldn't decide which was the reality—and I totally get not wanting to spend months or years writing a novel-length fic out of what's supposed to be a quick bit of fun—but there's just so much you could do with this idea. Even without picking sides, it could be a Total Recall-style ambiguously-themed case fic, or a "Frame of Mind"-esque dark psychological thriller, or any number of other options...

What can I say? I have a weakness for unreliable narrators.

#wednesday reading #erin morgenstern #a.s. byatt #aleksandr solzhenitsyn #margo lanagan #zoemathemata #the sunless sea #morpho eugenia #one day in the life of ivan denisovich #tender morsels #folie a deux #books #supernatural #fic rec

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veliseraptor · 4 years

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Au meme—dust off more from Victorian frostmaster pls

still love this au a stupid amount. it’s terrible and I love it. (if anyone was curious, there are previous headcanons for this meme here and here and also a short fic for it here, because the problem with this meme is that sometimes whole Things come out of it.)

anyway we left this one with Loki about to get roped into an Andrew Gast party after desperately avoiding him as much as possible for months, which is a great place to kick this five headcanons meme response off.

because of course that party is going to be terrible. I mean, it starts off respectable(-ish) but it devolves fast into. well. there are drugs. there is a developing orgy. Thor did not know what he was getting into. Loki absolutely did and would really like to bolt only Gast finds him early on and basically puts an arm around his shoulders and is not letting him go anywhere.

and at some point while Thor is trying to figure out how the fuck this happened and thinking ‘okay I’m out’ he realizes that Loki has disappeared. he does not know when this happened, or how long it’s been, just that one minute Loki was there and now he is not. this is a problem. this is a bad problem.

Loki, meanwhile, is also not sure what is happening. he’s pretty sure his drink was drugged. he is also pretty sure he was wearing more clothes a half an hour ago. he is also pretty sure that Thor was somewhere around, but Gast is telling him that Thor went home without him and really, wouldn’t he rather stay? wouldn’t he rather spend the night? it’s just like old times.

Loki wakes up with a hangover, in Gast’s bed, with about fifty new regrets.

he ends up slinking home in a miserable, disheveled state of shame (he has to ask for a ride which makes it so much worse) and rolling in midday and Thor (who had, in fact, gone home, he thought maybe Loki had left and is in a state of both mild panic and anger when he finds him not there when he gets back) is like WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN, WHAT WERE YOU DOING, WHERE DID YOU DISAPPEAR TO AND WHAT WAS THAT ANYWAY, THIS IS THE GUY YOU’RE FRIENDS WITH, THINK OF THE FAMILY’S REPUTATION, WHAT HAPPENS IF HELA HEARS ABOUT THIS

while also looking Loki over and he has. a bad feeling about this. but does not want to acknowledge that bad feeling, no he does not.

and Loki just stares at him, exhausted, wrung out, head aching, utterly miserable, and kind of folds, because that’s it, he just can’t anymore, and basically...goes off at Thor about everything that he’s been not saying about what happened on the Continent and with Gast and why he’s been avoiding him, all spilling out at once and he doesn’t care, right, he’ll ruin the damn family, it doesn’t matter.

bye Thor mic drop I’m out I’m done

and straight up bounces, leaving Thor stunned, appalled, and increasingly angry.

#noncon cw #dubcon cw #sakaar trash party #lise memes #five headcanons meme #loki's a goddamn mess #thor is my favorite puppy #led lite #conversating

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baobaojng · 4 years

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what the water gave me - three

what the water gave me - one, two, three

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

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

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

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

wordcount: 6,278

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t scare her!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course you understood.

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe you forget that only I can give you the

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

“Don’t say that.” Minseok pouted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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claraxbarton · 5 years

Text

MCU Bucky Barnes

So here’s the thing.

I’m a costume designer by trade, and one thing that I actually really love about Captain America: The Winter Soldier (okay, among the things I love) is the costume design and the rhetorical value given to the clothes and, well, costumes in this movie.

For example - when Sam and Steve have their heart to heart on the bridge that ends with Sam saying “but he doesn’t even know you” and Steve saying “he will” before going to steal his old uniform - the one Bucky last saw him in when he was Bucky. There are some other great costume points in this movie, actually a LOT of them (costumes, not wigs, don’t at me because I KNOW).

But one thing that has always stood out to me, and not in a good way, is the “I’m with you til the end of the line” flashback.

Now, here’s the thing, it’s not JUST about the clothes. We’re in MCU verse, so it’s MCU canon - obviously, the Steve and Bucky duo is drastically different in Marvel comics canon so - and Bucky starts this scene by saying his folks wanted to give Steve a ride to the cemetery.

Which is super cool and nice. So one, we know Bucky’s dad is still alive - and his mom, but two, we know they have a car.

So this is supposed to be when Steve is around 16? So it’s... 1936 (according to MCU wiki it totally is)

So cars.

Crazy popular ever since they started having closed bodies and all that. BUT, were they crazy popular in CITIES in 1936? Especially in the middle of the Great Depression?

There’s some evidence that actually no, that car ownership in a city like NYC was something like 1 car per every 43 people. Then again, looking at the NYC.gov 2015 Mobility Report we see that the population of NYC in 1936 is something like 7.2 million, and the number of registered vehicles in 764,000... or roughly one per every 9.4-ish persons. Which is a pretty drastically different number. This doesn't, of course, account for taxis or fleet cars being registered - so the number might seem inflated. I still think it’s probably something closer to 1 car per every 20 than every 43 but... I’m too lazy to dig that much deeper at the moment. Plus I'm sick, which is fueling this in the first place.

So, anyway you slice it, Bucky’s family was in 11%, 5% or 2.33% of New Yorkers who own cars in 1936. Which says something, I think, about Bucky Barnes that we don’t always - ever? - think of in fandom.

I’m not going to say that Bucky Barnes was loaded. Maybe his family owned a garage or a grocery store or a delivery service or a funeral home...?? or something. So, the vehicle could be occupational as opposed to private usage - but either way it’s a statement. Bucky’s family has money and/or Bucky’s family has steady employment.

I’ve been there. I’ve read the fics where Bucky works at the docks to put Steve through art school and get him his medicine. I love those fics. I love that head canon.

But I... don’t think it’s realistic in light of some evidence showing us that, actually, Bucky wasn’t doing too badly for himself.

Let’s now actually look at CLOTHING. Here’s the whole scene via youtube, if you want to follow along with what is about to get RIDICULOUS.

Actually, before I dive in, who is the costumer for this movie? And should I be like... reading into all this as much as I am?

Judianna Makovsky - fellow New Jersey..Ian?ite?no clue - 3 time Oscar nominee and designer of 5 MCU films and a lot of other big budget movies, including quite a few period pieces dealing with issues of race and class (The Legend of Bagger Vance, Seabiscuit, The Little Princess.. and also like Harry Potter and The Quick and the The Dead.) So, should I have some faith in Judianna Makovsky’s designs? I’m gonna go with yeah, yeah I should.

So, back to the movie. The scene.

This is post funeral. We’re in 1936. As a general rule, the dress, colors and style of mourning wear was pretty much formalized in the early Victorian era. There was a great - read PHENOMENAL - exhibit at the MET a few years back on Mourning-wear and I’m still reeling from how lovely everything was - but the gist of it is this: you wore black when someone died. If you were a lady, and especially if you were a rich lady, you then went through a few different colors (dull black to SHINY black to purple/mauve and gray and white and then back to color within six months to one year). By the 1930s only the really rich were sticking to the actual rules of mourning - or like, really old people. And, of course, really old rich people. Really old rich WHITE people. Because it needs to be said: these are WHITE customs. I'm not saying people of other ethnicities didn’t follow them, but these are basically British Victorian practices that were assimilated into American culture.

I’m not going to go off on a huge sidebar about American fashion following in French dressmaking and British tailoring, but I need to say at least that much. Everyone who was anyone knew you got your dresses made in France or in the French style and you got your suits made in England - Savile Row in specific. I am NOT implying Bucky’s got himself an English suit, fyi. I just... have to be thorough.

BACK TO THE SCENE:

We’ve got our boy Steve. STEVE. Who just buried Sarah Rogers and what is he wearing...?

For starters, he’s wearing a windbreaker, check out the 1933 ad below, he’s the guy almost giving us the Fonz finger gesture, or maybe guy in the fedora on the end.

This thing isn’t falling apart at the seams, but it’s a very nondescript not really gray, not really blue - maybe was at one point. It also doesn’t FIT Steve. It also, in the ad above, would cost about $165.40 in today’s money.

My guess? It’s Bucky’s old windbreaker. Because it’s not cheap and because it’s just a bit too big on Steve.

He’s also wearing a shirt that is maybe tan? And a brown tie and maybe - MAYBE black trousers. And if those trousers are black, it’s the only black thing he’s wearing. Not even a black tie, or a black arm band (which I’m pretty sure - but also pretty aggressively atheist so I don’t know - the Catholic Church would have provided for chief mourners and pall bearers right?). We also have our depressing as all shit Depression surroundings to clue us in: Steve Rogers ain’t loaded. Steve Rogers is poor as dirt. Side note: boys. Hiding a key under the ONE FUCKING BRICK on a walkway is not like... a smart idea???

So we can guess a few things here, we can guess that Steve and Sarah were really struggling - this checks out with the rest of MCU canon (wearing newspapers stuffed in his shoes, even when he had nothing he had Bucky, etc.) - and that all money probably went towards Steve’s numerous ailments, food and then the TB medication or treatment, as it was, that was available to Sarah.

We can maybe guess that Steve and Sarah weren’t very religious -but I don’t feel qualified to impart anything except my own agenda here so I’m not taking that stance. But like, real talk, not even an arm band??

But, well, let’s move on to the point of this whole long ass thing anyway?

Then we go to Mr. Barnes, looking dapper AF. Also, hey, check out this ad from 1933 featuring... pretty much exactly what Bucky is wearing down to the god-damn two-tone shoes:

If you’re curious, yeah $24.98 in 1936 is $475.44. I'm not suggesting Bucky Barnes went out and bought a brand new suit for Steve’s mother’s funeral - for one thing, this ad is from 1933. BUT, that suit fits Bucky. Quite well, and it’s in good shape. He’s also sporting that super stylish mid-late 30s into 40s deeply angled collar shirt - as is our dude up in the ad - and so we know these clothes are at least new-ish. We also can see that the suit is definitely of the mid-30s moving into the boxy silhouette of the later 30s and early 40s and NOT the look of the 20s and early 30s, which has an almost bell-bottom fullness to the legs instead of our straight-leg here (though we can debate nuance if you want to hit up my DMs.)

I should note, Bucky’s shirt is not bright and pristine white - it’s kind of grayish? And I can’t tell if that’s supposed to be an old-timey sepia thing or an indication that Bucky can’t afford to... bleach a white shirt? So that’s an odd choice for sure because we’re still in an age when a crisp, white collar shirt means something (Hey, if you want to hear me go on about the democratization of men’s fashion via shirt collars and 19th century Victorian suits, let me know because I am READY).

All this is to say: I don’t think Bucky Barnes is a poor dock worker. I think Bucky Barnes of MCU canon. Okay, so the MCU wiki on Bucky/The Winter Soldier is an actual mess (because it tells us that Sarah died in 1936 and that’s FINE but I’m not going back to change my math because I’m SICK so just... I went back and changed it. She died in 1936. Fine. The damn wiki also says that “a year later, during their art class, Barnes and Rogers found out that the United States of America had joined World War II. Which, like, I’m sick, but there are a few years between 1936 and December 8 1941... just... I’m no rocket doctor but...

ANYWAY. Bucky is a three time YMCA welterweight boxing champion by this “year later”/ 1941-1942. He and Steve are also in an ART CLASS together. Bucky also trained Steve in boxing at Goldie’s gym before the two of them went to enlist - Steve rejected and Bucky, again quoting MCU wiki, “drafted” (which I'm gonna take to mean he didn’t try to enlist when Steve got rejected, they went home and Bucky got called up later but... hey, who knows?!).

So, I can’t easily find the prices of gym memberships in NYC in the 1930s right now because I don’t feel like wading through all of the articles complaining about Equinox pricing in 2019. But I do know that part of Roosevelt’s WPA (Works Progress Administration) building projects included building more public gyms - as well as libraries, auditoriums, pools, parks etc. Check out your local public buildings - if they are WPA projects they will have a cool plaque like my local NJ library does! All that is to say, there were free or very cheap PUBLIC options where Bucky could have trained Steve.

Bucky trained Steve in a private gym. Do I like to think that this is the same gym Steve and America’s ass are working out in in The Avengers? Yes, Yes I do. Do I like to think that Steve likes to box because it reminds him of Bucky? Yes, yes I do.

But moving on: it’s another sign of wealth.

So is this “art class.” Whether we are in 1937 or 1941 - we’re still in the Depression. Steve still has all of his health issues and presumably accompanying “medication” (wanna talk 1930s medicine? Again, slide into my DMs or shoot me an ask). So Steve either has a side job making enough to cover all of that, rent? and enrollment in an art class.

OR maybe Steve is teaching the art class and Bucky is his model for life drawing instruction (yeah, it’s a fic bunny I’m sharing with the world).

OR maybe... Bucky is paying the rent and other things or Steve is living with Bucky and can afford the class and meds... somehow or...

OR I'm not saying that Steve is Bucky’s kept man because Steve Rogers would punch anyone who dared to say such a thing.

All I’m saying is, Bucky Barnes was not a poor dude. Bucky Barnes... had some money.

And also I’m about to be late for my doctor’s appointment so I gotta run.

At me with your thoughts!

#Bucky barnes #James Buchanan barnes #winter soldier #Steve rogers #captain america #marvel #mcu #meta #head-canon #costume design #character thoughts

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reddieao3feed · 5 years

Text

Hungry Like The Wolf

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2N39mdX

by bazsucks

He’s wearing a white billowy shirt, unbuttoned open, slightly, by the front, like a hot Victorian-era gay vampire would wear it. His cape goes down to his ass, and it’s got gold detailing. Richie can definitely imagine being welcomed into his mansion, late on a rainy, stormy night..

Maybe that’s just Richie’s fantasies getting the best of him. Maybe not. Maybe, Eddie’s costume is just that good.

___________________________

ALTERNATIVELY: The goddamn Reddie Halloween Party fic that you deserve this Halloween night. Richie's a werewolf, Eddie's a vampire, and they still can't stop touching each other through intricate rituals.

Words: 5346, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: IT - Stephen King

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Richie Tozier, Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough

Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier

Additional Tags: halloween party, Modern AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, They Did The Monster Mash, Make Outs, First Kiss, Drunken Flirting, They Are Bastards And Idiots, Vampire Eddie, werewolf Richie, (not really. but costume wise), Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Kissing, Truth or Dare, Copious Amounts Of Halloween Songs, Fluff, so much dialogue, They Are 18-ish Here

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2N39mdX

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #reddie #it (2017)#richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak

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amemenojaku · 5 years

Note

Chisato/Kaoru or Maribel/Renko if you like? 💚

rnmr time™

Howdifferently do they think of each other now compared to when they first met?

Essential?I like to think when they first met they didn’t take each other very seriously,thinking it was still worth a shot but that there’s no way they would understand eachother… Now they’ve been through so much and there’s absolutely no doubt they weremeant to be together…

What dotheir friends/family think of their relationship?

I’m surethey’d be supportive! I hc that Merry doesn’t really keep contact with herfamily much so it’s not that important, but I like to think Renko’s parents(and siblings if she has any) would be happy to meet Merry. If Sumireko is Renko’sgrandma or something similar and if she were around to meet Merry, hmm… I feellike she’d be torn between excitement to talk about Gensokyo w someone else,and a creepy feeling of déjà vu…

No one intheir respective friend circles/classes is surprised when they make theirrelationship official, if they ever do.

How dotheir personalities/skills complement or contrast with each other?

I’ll neversay it enough but imo they’re the pair that complements each other the best…Their differences are what brings light to questions they wouldn’t haveconsidered by themselves. It’s teamwork! They bounce thoughts and ideas offeach other, something I really appreciate in ship dynamics. Going past what makesthem opposites (their ways to see the world mostly), they’re kindred spirits…like ‘we’re both weirdos, but at least we’re weirdos together’

What istheir favorite aspect of each other?

This willbe contrary to what I also write for the next question, but: their eyes.Because I feel like their eyes are what embody them the best (their abilities,their views of the world and their personalities all at the same time). Plus itcan lead to a lot of super cheesy but really good things like how Renko’s eyesare a beautiful starry sky and Merry’s eyes show a wonderful world of fantasy…it begs to be used in a fluffy fic lol

Do eitherof them have pet peeves about each other?

Don’t theycall each other’s eyes “creepy” at some point in one of the albums? I thinkfanworks which explore some uglier feelings are interesting too. On one handthey share secrets that the whole world is unaware of, but at the same time Iget the feeling they wouldn’t be fully honest with each other? They are thebest person fit to understand the other, but there’s always a sort of gapbetween them and it becomes more and more difficult to cross as Merry’sabilities grow stronger. Their worlds drifting apart the closer they are totheir shared goal. That kind of image.

On alighter note Merry seems to get annoyed whenever Renko is late, even if it’sjust a few minutes…

How wouldeach reconcile with each other after a fight?

They bothhave a lot of pride so it’s probably not easy… But they know each other well,so they can talk it out in the end I feel.

Renkostrikes me as the kind of person who can’t stay mad for too long and wants toapologize, but has trouble finding the right words. She’d need some time byherself to think of how to convey her feelings. Maybe she goes on a quick walkto let steam down? When she’s back and ready she initiates the conversation.

Merry… mightbe the type who sulks and overthinks? Most of the time it’s Renko who talks itout first, but then Merry finds the right thing to say to apologize when she’sdone sulking. She’s a bit childish but sometimes she can be more truthful andsays very mature things when the situation calls for it.

Hmm. Ithink some people would say “actually, it’s the opposite!” but that’s how I seethem. ^^;

What wouldbe their ideal vacation getaway together?

Obviously,a long trip to cool occult places in different parts of the world… But if it’sactual vacation and club activities prohibited, then the seaside! The beachwhere the land, the sea and the sky all connect… Long evening walks on a quietpier… It needs to be somewhere without many tourists though, as they’re boththe loner-but-together type.

Think of anew way (AU, different situation, etc.) they could have met for the first time.

I love the thoughtof them meeting through dreams… Or any kind of meeting on the border of whatfeels real and what feels like a dream.

For AUs there’sa lot, but a while ago I drew a zine pic that had Merry in a nice Victorian-ishdress and Renko in a detective costume! Maybe they meet as Renko follows a leadfor some mysterious case she’s working on, and they team up…

#I'll answer some more tomorrow :'3 #ship asks #thank you for the opportunity to talk about them!#super-sexy-commando-kyouko

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spideyy-girl · 5 years

Text

Let Me In ~ Winter Soldier!Bucky Barnes

Request: Hi!!! I was wondering if I could request a song fic with wintersoldier! bucky x reader? The song is called Lily by Alan Walker, K-391, & Emelie Hollow. I’ve been listening to it nonstop lately. Thank you!!

Song: Lily - Alan Walker, K-391, Emelie Hollow

Summary: Bucky feels stuck with hydra always controlling him, and he can’t quite get a grip of himself. One day he escapes and finds someone that could change his life.

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Warnings: Sad Bucky, HYDRA being a bitch (as per usual), sorta sad but fluffy-ish ending

Word Count: 4526 (12.6 pages) long af

Date: March 31, 2019

A/N: thanks anon now I’m obsessed with this song too lol. Also, I didn’t know which character you wanted to be “Lily”, but I feel like it suited Bucky better with the whole locked in his super soldier mindset thingy. Hope it makes sense? Hopefully this is what you wanted, and if it isn’t, I’d be more than happy to rewrite it to better suit you! Also sorry if it sorta sucks I was running out of ideas :/

This takes place a few months after CA: Civil War, with a little bit of Infinity War reference at the end.

Lily was a little girl Afraid of the big wide world She grew up within her castle walls

Bucky laid in his board stiff bed, eyes baring straight up into the ceiling above him, a dull beige colour with pipes running along it. He raked his mind, over and over again, trying to remember anything he could. Hydra was starting to get in his head, and he had started to think of what had happened before hydra made him who he is today.

A monster, a murderer. A soldier.

Now and then she tried to run And then on the night with the setting sun She went in the woods away All afraid, all alone

He always thought the word was quite a stretch, aren’t soldiers supposed to help people? He asked in his head. Although his commander says that what they do is to help others, he didn’t feel like that was truly the case. But he didn’t dare say that, not unless if he wanted to be strapped down in that room again, tortured until his mind was a blank slate with nothing but kill.

He hated it. He couldn’t take it anymore. He wanted out.

From the little things he could remember of his past life, he feels happiness, laughter rings in his ears. There’s one little blonde guy that seems to appear a few times as well. But those are just flashes. He needed answers. And he needed them now.

He sat up from his position on his bed and looked out the window, watching the sun turning from light blue to pastel pinks and oranges. He looked the opposite way, out the open door and into the empty cold hallway. He saw this as his chance. He stood up with haste, grabbing his gun from its place under his bed and shooting the window. As he was climbing out, he heard security screaming the only name he knew.

“Soldier! Get your ass back in here!” He heard his commander yell at him, before hearing the familiar sound of the loading gun. As if second nature, Bucky lifted up his own gun and shot out 3 bullets, hitting his targets with practised perfection, before slipping out and running into the abandoned woods outside of the compound. He was free. Finally free.

They warned her, don’t go there There’s creatures who are hiding in the dark Then something came creeping It told her, don’t you worry

Bucky walked for what felt like days, looking for anything, anyone. Maybe even someone that might help him rediscover his past. The blonde boy from his leftover memories kept flashing through his head. He must know something. So that was Bucky’s new target.

He continued to wander, thoughts running through his head, crowding his brain so much he couldn’t think straight. He couldn’t hear the sound of quickly paced footsteps, he couldn’t see the shining brightness of the nearing lantern.

“Hello?” the girl questioned again, putting the lantern up as she continued to walk closer. “Sir? Are you ok?”

The soft sound of her worrying voice triggered him, taking him out of the depths of his mind and causing him to raise his gun, merely missing the woman and hitting the light beside her, causing it to go out. “Holy shit!” she screamed, dropping the shattered object to the murky woodland ground. The feminine voice startled the man as well, and he quickly lowered his weapon. She looked from the shattered glass on the woodsy floor up to the soldier's weary eyes, seeing many things in only a matter of seconds.

"Hey, I'm sorry if I scared you," she whispered, trying to get closer to him, trying to help. He looked like he could use some. "I know you must be concerned, lost maybe. I just wanted to help you." Her words were gentle and held an unfamiliar comfort in them, making him let down his guard completely for just a few moments. He nodded, not knowing why, but not questioning his actions either.

"I'm sorry-"

"There's no need for that," she quickly reassured, cutting off his unnecessary apology. She reached out her hand towards him, in a welcoming matter instead of the usual threatening one he received. "Now, I have a little cottage just a bit down. I don't mean to sound... weird or anything, but you're more than welcome to stay the night and I'll get you some food before you continue on whatever journey you're going through at the moment." She said with kindness, a matching smile adorned her beautiful face. He couldn't refuse, so, of course, he didn't.

Follow everywhere I go Top over the mountains or valley low Give you everything you’ve been dreaming of Just let me in, ooh Everything you wantin' gonna be the magic story you've been told And you’ll be safe under my control Just let me in, ooh Just let me in, ooh

Bucky stayed with the girl he met in the woods, whose name he learned was Y/N. She told Bucky that she lived in New York and that she was going back next weekend, and offered for him to stay with her until then. Bucky told her about his blonde friend, and how he was trying to find him. Of course, he refused to tell her about his super soldier past. Bucky felt an odd sense of protection around her. He felt as if he could trust her, like he already knew her for many years.

Bucky sat at the round wooden table, the room was dimly lit by a weak ceiling fan, the only sound coming from the scraping of the metal spoon against the bowl filled with warm soup in front of him. The annoying sound was almost white noise to him as he stared at the girl visible from the other room, presumably the kitchen, preparing for food for him. The girl felt eyes boring into the back of her head, and she smiled and poured out her own cup of soup and took a sit with him. They sat in silence for a while, both enjoying their meals, before the silence was broken by the super soldier.

"It's good," he said, his voice quieter than what he remembered. The girl looked up, a slight hue of red across her cheeks as a smile spread against her innocent looking face.

"So he speaks," she teased, her bowl completely forgotten about at this point. She put her elbows on the table, resting her chin on her hands as she observed him in the (not so) better light. "So, you want to talk about what was happening out there? I thought you had to be on something but.. it doesn't look like it." She told him, observing his mannerism or any other signs that might help her find out what a handsome man was doing somewhere like here. Bucky gave her a quick skeptical look but proceeded with explaining the odd circumstances in which they met.

"I'm... I'm looking for a friend," he said in a small voice, avoiding eye contact. "I'm not sure where I am." She sighed, reaching out to grab his hand, trying to comfort him. He flinched back from her touch but let her take his rough palm in her soft, rather small one.

"Ok, listen," she said, squeezing his hand and rubbing her thumb against the "I can't guarantee that your friend will be in New York, but I may have some friends who can help. I just want to let you know, I'm not trying to hurt you Bucky." She said with a smile. Bucky frowned and took his hand out of her grip.

"How did you know my name?" he said, his free hand gliding down to the hidden knife on his thigh. Y/N giggled, but her eyebrows furrowed.

"You told me, don't you remember?" She said, looking concerned for him. Bucky stopped his movements, shaking his head and offering her an apologetic smile and nodded, looking at the floor. "It's ok, there's probably a lot going on in there. C'mon, I'll show you the spare room, leave you to get comfy. You look like you could use some rest." She got up, the old wooden chairs scratching against the laminate floor, Bucky following in suit going down the hallway and examining his new victorian looking room. He smiled and gave a quick thanks to the girl before closing the door, going to sit on the double bed.

On the other side on the bedroom door and down the narrow hallway, Y/N sat in the small living room, picking up the telephone and dialling a well-remembered number. The familiar deep scruff voice picked up the phone with a 'hello?'. "Steve? I think we found our guy." She stated in a soft voice, so the man she met that day wouldn't hear. "And I think he remembers us."

She knew she was hypnotized And walking on cold thin ice Then it broke, and she awoke again

Bucky woke up to the bright sunlight shining through his window the next morning. He rolled off the bed, his instincts telling him to grab for his gun and get suited up for today's mission, that is until he bumped into the tall dresser, which came tumbling down towards him. Luckily, he caught it, but the insides fell out, creating a large crashing sound. Bucky cringed, before pushing the cabinet back up against the wall and trying to stuff the contents back into it. Suddenly the door opened with Y/N showing on the other side, her hair in a messy bun and an apron wrapped around her waist. She saw the current situation and gave out a small chuckle.

"I make you food and give you a bed to sleep in, and in return you decide to trash my house," Y/N jokes with him, rushing over and helping him clean up. Bucky looked at her with a guilty smile, and she rolled her eyes, her grin only getting wider. "Come on, I made you some breakfast before we head out. I hope you like pancakes?" A confused look came on his face as he put the last of the things away before following the girl outside the room.

"Never had them," he said. As he walked into the dining room he was greeted with the best smell in his life, his stack of pancakes placed neatly on the dining room table. She gasped, before pushing him towards the table and seating him on the chair, placing a fork and knife in front of him.

"I like to think mine are pretty great," she said excitedly, placing a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to see the girl beaming back at them, before nodding to the breakfast food. "They're my favourite. Go on, eat up!" She smiled before patting his shoulder and going back to finish packing her suitcase. Bucky ate as if hasn't in months, more than satisfied with the sweet treat. Y/N giggled as she saw him scarf down the pancakes, grabbing a plate of her own and going to sit beside him, starting on her own.

"So, tell me more about your friend," Y/N said as she set her fork down after finishing her pancake. Bucky looked up at her, before swallowing what pancake he had left in his mouth and beginning to talk. A good sign.

"He's small, blonde, umm..." Bucky started, trying to kick start his memory, anything else he knew. He saw Y/N across the table tilt her head, slightly resembling a lost puppy, he couldn't help but think. "Truth is, I don't know much about him. But I remember him, from my past." Bucky tried to explain.

"Your past?" Y/N questioned further, trying not to sound suspicious. Bucky looks down and nods. "Did something... happen in between?" Bucky looked up at her, being cautious of what his next words would be. He didn't want to scare her off.

"You can call it that," he said in a whisper. "I can't remember much of my last few years." He tried to explain, Y/N nodded in understanding.

"Like long term memory loss?" She kept questioning. He nodded his head, his long hair falling in front of his face. Y/N's face changed, her eyes going soft as she reached over and pushed his hair out of the way, startling the boy. He's never been shown this type of affection. She blushed and took her hand away, mumbling a sorry. The room stayed in silence for another few minutes, before broken by Y/N.

"I'm sure you'll find him, Bucky," she said, offering a hopeful smile towards him. He looked up and gave her a small smile back. Y/N stood up and took their plates and cleaned up a bit as Bucky took the extra time to freshen up a bit, before trying to get some research done on what might've happened to him before. Maybe it will give him a hint as of where to go.

The week went by relatively fast, and Y/N did everything she could to help Bucky find what could've happened to him and his friend before HYDRA took him back and brainwashed him once again. Of course, Bucky didn't reveal that certain detail to Y/N. Soon enough, Friday afternoon had reached and Y/N was packing her small buggy car and the two now closely bonded pair went on their way home. Well, Y/N's home at least, or what he was told was her home.

Then she ran faster than Start screaming, is there someone out there? Please help me Come get me Behind her, she can hear it say

Y/N was oddly silent throughout the ride. Music played in the background as Bucky kept stealing glances at the girl beside him, she seemed almost nervous. He pushed it off as normal, thinking that he would probably be nervous taking someone he only met a few days prior to his house. But that's wasn't what was running through the Y/H/C's head.

Y/N was starting to wonder if she should maybe turn back, feeling as if she was selling the man off. Of course, she knew what she was doing was for his own good, which is the only reason why she kept on the crowded highway. But she had made a bond with Bucky, and she was hoping this wouldn't ruin anything that's been growing between them. Especially if the said bond would eventually grow into a more than friendship thing. Hopefully, her colleagues would be ok with it.

"You alright?" he asked, looking at the girl in concern. Y/N shook her head, trying to shake her thoughts out of her brain. She put on a smile and gave him a quick nod.

"Yeah, I'm fine. A little bit nervous." She laughed, though it sounded uneasy. The music seemed to get louder in the sudden silence as Bucky slowly put his hand on her leg, not in a very implying way, just as a sign of comfort. He felt her relax under his touch and she turned her head to give him a smile. Within another few minutes she pulled into an underground garage park of a tall glass building, with a bit of a weird structural design, Bucky thought to himself. Y/N took her suitcases out of her trunk, which Bucky quickly took out of her hands, claiming: "a pretty girl doesn't have to carry her own bags. Just let me be a gentleman."

They got into the nice elevator, which had plenty of levels. Y/N pressed a button closer to the top, and the sliding doors closed and it jolted before smoothly going up. AC/DC came through the speakers, of course, considering the building they were in. After a minute or two, the metal box stopped and the doors slid open again. The first thing Bucky realized when he walked out with Y/N, was that they were not alone, and he realized this probably isn't her real apartment.

At the sound of the elevator dinging across the room, Steve Rogers halted his talking with Sam, Wanda, Natasha, and Clint. Everyone's eyes darted towards the two new people who entered the room. Bucky's eyes widened as he saw the one and only Captain America. He looked between him and Y/N, who was walking over to hug Wanda, a close friend of hers.

"Y/N, what the hell is going on," Bucky asked once Y/N broke apart from the Scarlet Witch, grabbing her shoulder and turning her towards him, but not too harshly. Y/N diverted her gaze and sighed, looking down before meeting his gaze. HEr eyes looked like they were starting to water.

"I'm just trying to help, Buck," she said, reaching for his hand. He pulled it away from her, taking a step back. He looked up at Steve, he knew it was his blonde friend from his almost ancient memories, even though he looked extremely different, he could tell. Actually, he recognized everyone in the room. He doesn't know from where, but he can't deny it. He scanned the room again before turning back at Y/N.

"So you did already know my name that night, didn't you?" Bucky jokes to try and ease the tension. Y/N let out a laugh, sounding relieved, before nodding. A small tear ran down her cheek.

"Yeah, you have no idea how scary that was," she smiled, and he gave her one back. He wasn't mad that she had brought him here like she originally thought. If anything he was extremely thankful. For the first time in his life, he felt safe. Y/N spoke again, raising her hand as if to present the other people in the room. "Well, Bucky, meet the Avengers. Or a part of them at least.

The team went back the large glass table in the back of the room with Y/N and Bucky, to discuss the plan to send Bucky to Wakanda. Steve explained that Y/N would accompany him there, to make sure he stays safe and doesn't go back into Winter Soldier mode again. Bucky was a bit reluctant at first, but with a little bit of convincing from Y/N, he agreed to the plan. The two went to Y/N's room, where she would pack the remaining of her stuff for the trip, and Bucky would pack his new clothes and leftover personal belongings he left there.

"So, you're an Avenger too?" He asked as he neatly folded a t-shirt before placing it in his suitcase. "Got a special power or anything?" Y/N giggled, a sound Bucky had grown accustomed to already.

"Yes I am an avenger," Y/N said, feeling proud. "I can jump through and manipulate space." Bucky looked back at the girl, obviously confused with what she said. She rolled her eyes, a goofy smile coming on her lips. "Basically I can teleport and move objects," she dumbed it down for the 100-year-old man, to which he nodded, an 'ah' coming from his mouth, before looking at her and giving her a smile.

"Sounds pretty badass," he commented, a smirk on his lips as he left his packing for a second to go walk towards her. Y/N laughed at the comment, dropping the jeans she was folding and turning to the taller man as well. She gave a nonchalant shrug.

"I guess so," she said. He smiled down at her, thinking of how cute she was. His hand reached out and grabbed her own, which she gladly accepted with a small squeeze. She glanced at their interlocked hands before looking back up into his brown eyes again, which seemed closer to her than they were a second ago. "I hope you don't mind me going with you to Wakanda. I'm sure you'd rather it be Steve but I'll try and be just as good of a company as he is. I've always wanted to go to Wakanda too, I've heard it's stunning and they've got really amazing technology. I'm sure you'll find it interesting as well. Maybe that might not make up for Steve but-"

Y/N's excessive nervous ramblings were cut off by Bucky, or his mouth did. Bucky's kiss was soft, his hand still caressing the back of her hand as the other one reached up to her jaw. Y/N's hands reached up to his long hair, running her fingers through the surprisingly soft locks. The pulled apart after a few second, foreheads leaning against each other. Y/N kept her eyes closed, but her smile grew slowly more evident on her face. Bucky couldn't help his own grin when he saw this.

"Trust me, I'm more than happy that I'm going with you," he said in a whisper, but just loud enough for the girl to hear. This only increased the growing smile on her face, so much that her cheeks were starting to hurt. But she didn't mind. "I wouldn't want anyone else."

Everything you wantin' gonna be the magic story you’ve been told (Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh) And you’ll be safe under my control Just let me in, ooh

*A FEW YEARS LATER*

Bucky awoke from the bright Wakandian sun shining through the large window. He couldn't complain about his new life, as if he never escaped HYDRA he'd be waking up to the same annoying alarms and slaps on the back by upper officers. Bucky stretched his arms over his head, a soft groan passing his lips.

"Good morning sleeping beauty," he heard a raspy voice coo from his chest. There lay his amazing girlfriend of almost 5 years, Y/N, looking up at him in adoration. He smiled and left a kiss on the top of her head, wrapping his arms around her exposed waist as she cuddled into his bare chest again.

"Morning, darling," he whispered, giving her another kiss on the cheek before meeting her lips. He could feel her smile into it. The cute moment was broken by a knock on the bedroom door, followed by a voice.

"Sargeant Barnes, Miss L/N, they're here." Shuri's voice came from behind the giant metal doors. Y/N groaned before sitting up, followed by her boyfriend as they got changed, exchanging in light conversation and a few stolen pecks here and there. The couple walked out together, meeting Okoye, a fierce warrior and the commander of the Dora Milaje, and T'Challa, the king of Wakanda and a new close friend. As they met, the group walked out of the grand doors to be met by big quinjet and an all too familiar group of people. T'Challa talked to the remaining of the Avengers about what seemed like a defence plan.

"You will have my Kingsguard, the Border Tribe, the Dora Molaje, and..." T'Challa stopped speaking and motioned towards the pair walking towards them.

"A semi-stable 100-year-old man," Bucky said as he walked towards them. Y/N kept beside him, Bucky's hand placed on the small of her back. He removed it to go over to hug his old friend, as Y/N took the chance to say hi and give hugs to the rest of her team, her family.

"How you been, guys," Steve said as he hugged Y/N, She happily gave him a tight hug, as Steve was like a brother to her. Y/N returned to Bucky's side as he wrapped his metal arm around her waist protectively

"Uh, not bad," Bucky said as he looked down to the incredible woman beside him. She looked up at him as well, offering him a smile as she briefly leaned on his shoulder.

"For the end of the world, at least," she finished, causing Bucky to roll his eyes, though a smirk was still on his face, and Steve let out a chuckle. The reunited team head inside to speak of how to get Vision's stone out of his head. Bucky and Y/N soon departed to go with the Kingsguard to speak of a gameplan. Bucky and Y/N suited up, getting ready for probably the biggest battle of their lives.

"You sure you'll be alright?" Bucky asked her, slightly worried as he saw her practising her spatial jumps around the room. Y/N teleported right in front of him, a smirk coming across her lips.

"Might I remind you, I am a former Avenger and all-time badass," she joked, wrapping her arms around his neck, to which he automatically put his around her waist. Bucky laughed.

"You remind me at least twice a day, Y/N," he snapped back. The girl feigned a hurt expression, before letting out a laugh. Bucky let go and reached for his gun and soon, an alarm went off from Y/N' kimoyo bracelet, signalling the threat has finally arrived. Y/N sighed, looking over at her partner, and gave him a soft smile.

"Time to go," she said quietly. Bucky gave her a sad smile, not wanting to think of what might happen to either of them out there. He grabbed her face and kissed her passionately. Y/N quickly responded, her hands going up to his hair and his shoulder. He pulled apart before resting his forehead on hers.

"I love you, Y/N," he whispered to her, his hands still on her jawline. She smiled up at him, giving him a quick peck on the lips. "So much."

"I love you, too, Bucky," she said, a tear slipping from her eye. Bucky wiped it off with his thumb and Y/N sniffed, parting from him as she stood up straighter and grabbed her knives. She grinned at Bucky one last time before the terrible events that happened during the Battle of Wakanda. "Now, let's go kick some alien ass."

Follow everywhere I go Top over the mountains or valley low Give you everything you’ve been dreaming of Just let me in, ooh Then she ran faster than Start screaming, is there someone out there? Please help me Just let me in, ooh

#bucky barnes x reader #infinity war #avengers #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #songfic #lily #bucky barnes #requested #winter soldier #winter soldier!bucky barnes #winter soldier!au #au #avenger!reader

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lovely-qualms · 5 years

Text

FMA Secret Santa 2018 Gift!!

Ahh, I’m cutting it so close, I’m so sorry I didn’t post it earlier! This is for @sassyfirealchemist (who coincidentally was also my Secret Santa!) for the Secret Santa exchange by @fmasecretsanta2018 !

I hope you like, and I’m sorry for the lateness again!

Title: Fortunes and Feelings

Rating: T+

Relationships: Roy Mustang/ Edward Elric

Tags: Historical (Victorian-ISH), Romance, Humor, Policeman!Roy, Psychic!Ed, circus

Find this fic on: FF.net and AO3

There were two things that Roy believed were working rather valiantly towards making his morning effectively terrible- well, three were he not used Hughes’ incessant early-morning ramblings. The first was the apologetic woman standing at the entrance of his favorite coffee spot who dared tell Roy the place had closed due to bankruptcy (immediately after this, a passing carriage horse had kicked a puddle directly at his boots, which did nothing to Roy’s sour mood). And, well, the young policeman and his chatty colleague currently stood in the midst of the second noisy, colorful, terrible thing.

The bloody circus.

“When I bring Elicia she’ll win every prize there is! Oh-Roy- she’s going to be so excited about that carousel! Don’t you think?” Hughes nearly squealed in delight at the thought of his daughter running around the amusements (wastes of money, in Roy’s opinion).

“Yes Hughes, I’m sure Elicia will have great fun here. Why a circus needs two policemen to keep guard in the ass crack of the morning I’m not sure.” Roy grumbled. It was currently rather cloudy and windy, and the few people actually here that weren’t staff or guard seemed to regret their forwardness of schedule.

Hughes shrugged, “You know pickpockets and drunkards love to ride the coattails of these kinds of places. Oh, look! There’re the acrobats!”

Just as Roy rolled his eyes at his friend’s behavior, a young blonde man swathed in thick brocade and fluttering silks approached them. Looking around, Roy pegged down a similarly silky tent that must belong to this man that lay to the right of them.

Roy and Hughes shook his hand (which Roy silently noted was automail) before he spoke, “Good morning, Officers. Chief Grand sent you, right? I’ll be giving you a little tour of the area, as our ringleader has a lot of last-minute preparations to take care of before the crowds really set in.”

“Do we get a name, o tour guide?” Roy asked, masking his displeasure with veiled sarcasm.

The blonde’ mouth quirked into an amused smile, “Ed. My brother and I are psychics.” Out of adherence to decorum, Roy refrained from rolling his eyes, but his skepticism must have shown through because Ed gave him an unamused look. “Let’s go see some hot spots of potential crime, shall we?“

….

They made their way slowly through the large field of gallantry and show, Ed pointing out various tents and shady areas that needed ‘special supervision’. The young man seemed incredibly familiar with the layout of the area, even though the circus hadn’t been set up for but a day or two. When asked, Ed simply explained that their layout was similar wherever they went, and he knew whose tents were whose and “all that shit”. His teasing personality got on Roy’s nerves, especially since his day hadn’t started out particularly well either.

“Those are where the drunkards like to drink and flirt with ladies and whatnot” Ed gestured to several gaps between tents sporting respectively, an ashcan and several empties liquor bottles.

“Attractive,” Roy muttered.

Ed cast a quick, annoyed glace at Roy, “Jeez, Who spat in your breakfast?”

Roy ignored this remark, turning to Hughes instead, “I’ll patrol northern half of the grounds, you get the Southern. We can switch at noon.”

Hughes gave the teasing affirmative, “Sir, yes sir,” going as far as to offer Roy a salute before turning away to his patrol before Roy could snap back. When Roy turned around to Ed, he realized the blonde had disappeared into his nearby tent, leaving Roy alone to work.

————————————

Roy didn’t see Ed until the next week, as the circus was incredibly busy in its opening days. Between shifts patrolling the northern or southern blocks of the fairgrounds, Roy and Hughes made it their personal goals to find the most ridiculous attraction there.

Roy, in a valiant attempt to top Hughes’ sighting of “world’s hairiest man”, decided to test his luck with the fortune tellers’ tent on his break that Thursday. Surely some ridiculous prognosis of his life would override some bloke who doesn’t shave enough.

Roy easily recognized the tent- it was the reddest, most decorated tent of the lot (outside of the central Big Top of course), huge lettered sign notwithstanding. Because of the time and cool morning breeze, not many people were out yet, so Roy took the opportunity to slip through the silks hanging in the doorway and into the small room.

Inside, the tent was considerably darker than outside. The thick canvas walls blocked out the sun, and only a few candles and a dim lantern lit the inside. Ed sat on the opposite end of a small table covered in yet more silks, cards, books, and glass knick-knacks.

When Ed recognized his new customer, he smirked. “Officer, don’t you have a patrol to keep up?”

Roy sat casually in the chair across from the blonde, “I’m on my break. Decided to come check out the validity of the local psychic.”

“Well, you don’t get to check me out for free.” Ed snipped, cringing a second later when he realized how his words came out.

Roy rolled his eyes and dropped two coins into the box by the door, “Now may I check you out?”

Ed glared, “Just sit and show me your hand.”

Roy did as he was told. Ed grabbed his hand, explaining as he picked opened a large book with his free hand, “Today I’m giving palm readings. I want to switch it up every week or so, but this is a pretty simple method. Good for the start of the week.”

“You don’t really think my hand will tell me my future.” Roy stated, already not on board with Ed’s ‘methods’.

Ed looked up at Roy blandly, “Your hand’s not telling you. I’m telling you, based on how your palm lines read.”

“Well then, what do my palm lines say?”

Ed looked intently at Roy’s hand for a second, tracing down one or two larger lines, “Well this one represents your inclination towards your friends over your family, and this one here means you’ll have good luck in love….” Ed explained.

Roy snorted, “Now I know you’re phony.”

“Hey, I’m just reading what it tells me.” Ed huffed, still concentrated on the hand in his grasp. He drew a finger down Roy’s hand lightly, “Let’s see now… despite your thrilling occupation, your occupational future looks fairly calm- see, that’s this line here.” Roy refrained from rolling his eyes yet again. Ed already knew his occupation; of course, he could deduce that he lived a relatively more “thrilling” life than others.

Silence reigned for a while as Ed analyzed the finer trails of Roy’s palm, going so far as to open a reference book somewhere around the base of his thumb. The silence lasted long enough for Roy’s palm to become lightly clammy under the pressure and heat of the other’s hands before Ed broke his gaze, looking up at Roy’s face almost apologetically, “Everything else’s too vague, especially since all I’ve got is this candlelight. It sets the mood, but really messes up my vision.”

Roy, taking this admission as proof of Ed’s position as more of entertainment than of divine reading, stood, “Well, Edward, your services have been most interesting.

Ed wrinkled his nose, “My services- You make it sound like I’m a prostitute or something.”

Roy laughed, “Hey it’s you who said it.”

Ed looked exasperatedly at the policeman, “Don’t you have some drunkards to kick around or something?”

Roy, still amused, left the tent ever more intent to return.

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

He returned to Hughes after their shifts were over, finding the other man fawning over a large selection of goodies that, quote, his “darling Elicia would win for sure”.

“Well, you’re still winning. The psychic’s more sarcastic than he is ridiculous, not that I believe a word of that superstitious crap.” Roy sighed, leaning against the wall of a large pink booth.

“Where’s the ‘but’?” Hughes asked, knowing his colleague all too well.

“I have to make sure, so I’m going to check out his tent again next week.

Hughes’ smirk was enough to make Roy wish there hadn’t been a ‘but’, “Sure that’s why.”

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

Ed intrigued the policeman, and he was a far shot easier to talk to than the stuffy women who waited outside of attractions while their children wreaked havoc inside. So, with two coins and a healthy dose of skepticism, Roy returned the next week. Instead of palm books and cards, atop the tablecloth sat a box of stones, metal nubs, and string.

Ed, who had been fiddling with a string tied around a purple stone, looked up with interest, “Officer, I didn’t think you’d turn up. Crime’s been pretty high recently.”

“I can take a small break, can’t I?” Roy responded.

“You wouldn’t be shirking your duties, would you? An upstanding police officer such as yourself?” came the rebuttal.

Roy tossed his coins into the nearby coinbox, “Well, tell me my future and maybe I can dutifully return to my post.”

Ed barked out a laugh, “You’re kind of stuck up, you know that?”

Roy smirked, “So I’ve been told.” He glanced at the stones and string atop the table at which he now sat, “What’re all of these for?”

Ed’s grin grew as he drew into his element, “Pendulum reading, it’s a personal favorite of mine.”

“How does it work?”

Ed picked up a thin chain, “I’ll show you. What’s your birth month?”

“February. Why?” Roy asked.

Ed sifted through his collection on stones which all had little metal loops at their bases. He pulled out a skinny little amethyst from the depths of the box, explaining, “Your birthstone- It makes the reading clearer.” Roy hummed in acknowledgment, but let Ed focus on his work. He’d taken out various maps and calendars, and he had fixed the amethyst to a small chain. Once he was set up, Ed asked, What do you want to know? Location usually works best.”

The reading was fun enough. Roy asked a lot of trivial questions, watching the crystal swing around until it stilled over a location on the map (he was fairly certain Ed was manipulation the rock, but he didn’t comment). He liked chatting to Ed about the questions and their answers more than he did the actual reading, however.

Eventually, Roy stood up, noting his need to actually work before excusing himself from the tent.

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

Over the weeks, Roy saw Ed frequently through the circus grounds. They usually chatted briefly and went their separate ways. Every week, Roy also made a point to visit Ed’s tent for a reading of some sort. He had given up on trying to tell himself it was merely intrigue that brought him to Ed’s tent. He was fully aware that he wanted to be in the spirited blonde’s company.

Despite their daily meetings in the grounds, it wasn’t until two months after the circus’ arrival that Roy saw Ed outside of the grounds, in plain, civilian clothing. It was a Sunday, the one day the circus was closed, and coincidentally Roy’s day off.

He had been strolling down the city’s main line of stores, gazing into windows for a birthday present for Elicia, when he had seen the telltale flash of golden hair through a window reflection.

After the first incident, Roy began to see Ed in the marketplace rather frequently. He never bought anything, only talked to store owners and looked into the window of the now-vacant coffee spot. Roy always saw him at side-glances and in passing, so he never actually got around to talking to Ed outside of their occasional on-duty meetings until the next Sunday.

Exiting the local grocer’s, Roy nearly collided head-on with the small man he’d seen around town. Ed let out a colorful array of expletives, cursing Roy for making him drop his food without even looking up to see who he’d collided with.

Roy couldn’t help his amused smile, “For a fortune-teller, you’re not so perceptive on the streets.”

Ed, finally recognizing the recipient of his verbal attacks, snapped his gaze up at Roy, “Officer guy! You should’ve looked where you’re going.”

“I prefer ‘Roy’ off-duty, thank you.” He clipped back, moving from the doorway of the grocer’s to let passers-by through. Ed definitely looked different in plain clothing (just a button-down and some brown slacks), though Roy did notice how the button-down’s rolled-up sleeves did well to Ed’s general appearance. It showed off his masterful automail wonderfully, as well. If anything, he looked more mature than he did in his circus getup.

“Want a hand?” He added as the blonde was struggling to fit his wares into the crumpled paper grocery bags.

Ed shrugged, and Roy took it as an invitation to help. He fit the remaining containers into place and, before Ed could protest, took one of the bags in his arms with the excuse, “I’ve got nothing better to do.” In reality, Ed had become something of a fancy to Roy, and he intended to spend his valuable time seeing that fancy through. After all, the circus wouldn’t stay in Central forever.

Ed looked away, either embarrassed or frustrated, muttering, “Wouldn’t wanna damage your ego too badly by denying you, seems like you wouldn’t be too used to the concept.”

“Oh yeah, I’m never told no. The criminals simply run into the police car. In fact, they have to fight over who gets a ride; it’s simply infuriating!” Roy replied, shifting the bag a bit as they crossed a stopped road two blocks from the circus grounds.

Ed rolled his eyes but didn’t look particularly offended. He changed the subject, “That old coffee shop downtown: Why did it close?”

Roy shrugged, “The owner’s daughter said bankruptcy. It’s weird, because the location is great, and I never saw the place empty.”

Ed nodded but had fallen in a contemplative state that Roy felt uninclined to break him from. They reached the circus grounds at this point, and Ed snapped out of it to take Roy’s grocery sack and bid him adieu.

----------

The circus was packed up two days later. Roy tried to hide his indignation, but he could tell that Hughes sensed his mad mood.

“Come on, Roy, we can go back to catching the big guys now.” Hughes stated as they watched the pack of acrobats walk into the big tent with their equipment tied into large bundles.

“Yeah.” Roy stated mildly, pushing off the wall, “I’ll make a round.”

Hughes’ sigh didn’t escape Roy as he ambled through the falling tents and scattered flyers. he found himself outside of Ed’s tent before he knew where he’d walked. The fortune teller’s blonde head poked out from behind the curtain-door, “Roy, hey! You haven’t come around in the past few days.”

“Yeah, there’s been a lot of ruffians trying to get their final few crimes in before you all go off.” He shrugged, “Need any help packing?”

Ed gave Roy a rare smile, “Yeah, come on in.”

He was tasked with placing all of Ed’s fragile-looking crystals and glass relics into boxes full of hay, which was difficult when the objects were all awkward shapes and curves that didn’t fit nicely into a rectangular space. While working, Roy kept looking over at Ed, who seemed oddly peppy. He’d have thought moving around would be laborious and frustrating, but Ed smiled almost secretly to himself. When they were done with his packing, Roy turned to find Ed looking at him searchingly.

“I guess all that’s left is the tent, huh.” The policeman stated.

Ed looked around, “I guess so, but I can take that down myself. Thanks for the help.”

“It’s no problem,” Roy dismissed, not sure what to do, “Um, I guess have good luck in the next city…”

Ed rolled his eyes and stepped forwards, grabbing Roy’s arms and planting a light kiss on the other man’s lips. Roy froze, not quite comprehending what was happening. He hadn’t even considered his crush being a shared attraction. Through Roy’s stunned silence, Ed smirked, “I don’t like goodbyes. Get out of my tent, asshole, I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Roy couldn’t help his smile, “Yeah, see you around.” He left the tent with a small skip and didn’t explain to a confused Hughes how a patrol round of the grounds had so drastically changed his mood.

-----------

He didn’t see Ed around that day, unfortunately, as they were all gone the next day. Only a mess of paper and trash remained of the circus, and Roy felt all the more dejected for it. It was his day off, and he walked down the downtowns strip, trying to find some way to waste his time and, maybe, distract himself from the day before.

He left a clothing store empty-handed and looked over longingly at the closed doors of the closed coffee shop, really wanting some of their past wares at the moment. What he didn’t expect to see was the door open, and a young man with short, dirty blonde hair adjusting some tables outside. Curiously, he walked across the street to the man.

“Good Afternoon” he greeted, and the man looked up with a happy expression.

“Hello, you curious? We’ve had a lot of questions.” He replied.

Roy shrugged, “I guess I am. Not many shops here go back into business so quickly.”

The boy smiled, “My brother an I just bought the place yesterday. We were part of the circus that just left, and needed a change of pace.”

“Oh?” Roy’s interest had been effectively piqued, “What kind of store will it be?”

A voice from the doorway answered, “We’re selling oddities and psychic services.”

Roy whipped around, “Ed!”

The blonde laughed at Roy’s surprise, “I told you I’d see you around.”

“You didn’t have to be so cryptic,” Roy responded, but couldn’t hide his excitement. Ed had an equally happy quirk of a smile behind his trained natural look, “Where’s the fun in that? You don’t look like you’re working, wanna help set up instead of standing here pestering Al?”

Al protested his brother’s comment and Roy rolled his eyes, already crossing the threshold behind Ed, “I get it- you just like to use me.”

Ed feigned exasperation, “Took you long enough to figure it out.”

Roy helped Ed set up shop for the rest of the afternoon, but not without first pulling him out of Al’s sight and properly reciprocating Ed’s earlier kiss.

His day went much better than planned.

#fmasecretsanta #fmasecretsanta2018 #fma #royed #victorian #edward elric #Roy Mustang #circus

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