adjusting hat

Firecracker [a.a]

Originally posted by riverdalesource

Title: Firecracker
Fandom: Riverdale
Characters: Archie Andrews x River Vixen!reader, Veronica Lodge, Betty Cooper, Cheryl Blossom, Reggie Mantle, Kevin Keller, Jughead Jones
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1,629 
Requested: Yes, by anonymous
Short Description: You, a river vixen and Archie’s girlfriend, never fail to make Archie smile; or blush for that matter. The two of you are a sophomore power couple at Riverdale, Archie as quarterback of the football team and you as Cheryl Blossom’s successor as cheer captain when she graduates.
A/N: Archie’s nickname for you is firecracker bc you’re a total babe. Also, I absolutely live for writing River vixen!reader fics. Seriously.

Disclaimer: not my gif

[Y/N] = your first name
[Y/L/N] = your last name

Being a Riverdale Vixen habitually put you at the top of the Riverdale High School social scheme. But for you, it just meant that you could let loose as you cheered on your football star boyfriend, Archie Andrews. You and Archie had been together for over a year, and you loved being a River Vixen. Cheerleading had always been up your alley. You had a fiery, sassy attitude, which earned you the nickname that Archie gave you: firecracker. Only Archie ever called you that, and you thought he was beyond sweet for giving it to you.

“Y/N!” the harmonious voice of Cheryl Blossom, the senior captain of the River Vixens, acknowledged you as you stood at your locker. You glanced over at her, seeing the beautiful redhead smiling an authentic smile at you. A lot of people thought that Cheryl Blossom was cold-hearted and malicious, but you had known her since your Freshman year at Riverdale, and you had always gotten along well with her. 

“Hey Cheryl,” you greeted, closing your locker and leaning against it with a beam. “What’s up?”

“Don’t forget that we have a mandatory River Vixens practice after school before the game tonight,” Cheryl reminded you as you both began strolling in the direction of the student lounge. “I mean, I didn’t think that you would, but better safe than sorry.” She inserted and you nodded your head.

“Of course, captain,” you laughed, teasing her. “I’ll make sure B and V get there too,” you assured Cheryl before parting ways as you entered the student lounge. Betty, Veronica and Kevin were all sat together on the sofa chairs, chatting amongst themselves as Kevin finished his homework at the last minute. “Good morning Vixens,” you saluted them, taking a seat next to Betty with a grin. “Cheryl just reminded me that we have practice after school before the game tonight, so be there.” You added, and Betty and Veronica both expressed their anticipation for the game that evening.

Two hands covered your eyes, and you heard Betty and Veronica giggling quietly to themselves. “Jughead, I already told you, not at school,” you joked, knowing that it was Archie as you covered his hands with yours and pulled them away from your face. You turned and laughed, seeing Archie smiling at you, dressed in his varsity jacket, as per usual. Jughead stood behind him with a smirk.

“Oh Y/N, you’ve revealed our affair.” He joked, nudging you with his elbow as he passed before taking a seat next to Veronica. “However will I satisfy my need for pep now?” Jughead added – making fun of your status as a cheerleader, and the slogan of your hometown – and you got up to greet Archie with a kiss.

Keep reading

Laundry Day

Jughead x reader fluff

Originally posted by juptern


summary: You are doing the laundry when a certain gray hat is found. (Sorry the summary is short. This imagine is kinda short)

a/n: I’m planning on adding more chapters to this if you guys want it *wink wink*.

word count: 524

“Ugh…Why did I even agree to that stupid ass bet”, you say as you struggle to carry the laundry basket full of Jughead’s clothes to the washroom. A sigh was released through your parted lips as you drop the basket on the table near the washing machine.

Both you and Jughead agreed to a bet on who could finish their milkshakes first at Pop’s. The loser had to do the winner’s laundry for a week straight. If it wasn’t for your small appetite, due to all the french fries that were previously eaten, you lost.

As you began to sort through the pile of clothes, something caught your eye. You cautiously picked it up, in case it was a pair of underwear. As you examined it, you realised that it was the one and only hat. The hat. It must have fallen in because Jughead only washes it when he needed to, and to you, it was clean enough. You looked around, just in case someone was looking and you put it on. The hat was warm and at the same time, smelled like him. It was slightly big to the point that it hid your eyes.

When you lifted it up, you saw Jughead, leaning against the door frame, with his arms crossed. You feel your cheeks warm up as you look up at his eyes. He slowly walks to you with no expression on his face. His hand reaches your head and adjusts the hat so he could get a better sight of your face. You feel your cheeks warm up even more.

He lets out a sigh of satisfaction with his hands now cupping your cheeks. His lips parted as if he had something to say, yet nothing came out. You both stood there, for a few seconds, feeling as if time stood still, like in the movies. But, reality hits you as he clears his throat, and you feel the warmth of his hands leave your skin.

“You don’t look terrible in that hat”, he says, scratching the back of his neck. “Not, as good as me, of course”, he says with a wink, slowly regaining his confidence.

You liked him. Or maybe even loved him. You grabbed him by his shirt and before you realised, his chest was now pressed against yours and you did not know if it was your heart that was beating rapidly, or his. The warmth on your cheeks came back, as you felt a pair of hands land on your lower back.  Attempting to look up at him, you raise your head, yet failing when the beanie that was still on your head, blocked your sight. You hear a chuckle escape from his lips.

“You are too fucking cute for your own good”, he mutters, pulling you into a tight embrace, resting his chin on top of your head.

“Am I cute enough to get out of doing the laundry?”

“Nice try, sweetheart”, he answered, smiling at the nickname he gave you. He then released you from the hug, taking the hat off your head, turning around, walking back to the living room.

Thursday | ten

Genre: best friend!au | fluff, lil bit of quite stressful angst but happy ending

Member: Ten / reader

Word Count: 3500ish

Summary: “it was still a mistake”

“no the mistake was falling for you!”

Originally posted by yoon-to-the-oh

It’s a Thursday when they meet.

Their year 7 teacher assigns them partnered projects about the solar system and she pulls names out of a hat. They get paired together. He’s is nice, really nice and she realises he has the most beautiful smile she’s ever seen- she’s not star struck or anything, she just hasn’t seen one like it before.

He introduces himself, she hasn’t seen him around much before so she’s assuming he’s pretty new and his name is a number. “Why is your name Ten?” she asks as they’re glueing planets to pieces of strings.

He shrugs, “It’s just a nickname.”

She frowns, “Well then what’s your real name.”

He sighs, smiling knowingly because there’s no way she’ll be able to pronounce it. “ Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul.” he says, almost proudly.

She pauses, staring at him, “Yeah I like Ten.” she dismisses because even she knows any attempt at the pronunciation would be embarrassing.

He grins, “You’re funny.”

“Do you want to be friends?” She asks quietly, almost shyly and he likes her already.

He smiles again, “I have a feeling we will be for a very long time.”

She frowns, “What are you a psychic or something?” She scoffs and rolls her eyes, pretending that a few second ago she wasn’t worried about what he’d say.

“Yeah I read people’s minds.” He assures.

She narrows her eyes and glances around the room. And then she points to a classmate, “What’s he thinking?”

“That he’s got a really itchy butt.”

And the teacher separates them because they distract each other too much.



“We’re out of Chinese.”

Ten closes the door behind him, frowning as he makes his way past the kitchen to look into the open living room. She’s sitting on the floor with a plate of food in her hands and her laptop on her lap. She’s surrounded by sheets and open text books and colouring pens strewn around in an unseemingly order. “That Chinese has been there for weeks.” He scoffs, dropping his bag onto the dining room table.

She shrugs, “It’s the only thing that was in there and I’m starving.” He breathes a laugh, walking over to sit behind her on the couch. He flops down and sighs loudly, rubbing his eyes tiredly. She pauses stuffing her face. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

There’s a silence where he contemplates telling her, knowing that he will eventually because he tells her everything so he just sighs. “I got fired.”

She glares at him, “Again?” she cries, putting her plate aside to turn around and face him. Her chin barely reaches the sofa but she still manages to scare him a little. “What the hell did you do this time?” she demands.

“Nothing!” he cries cordially but when he sees the look on her face he sighs again, “Okay so I may have burnt someone’s arm.”

She frowns, “How did you do that?”

He rolls his eyes and waves her off like it’s no big deal, “They got in the way of the fire-”

“Fire?”

“It was only a small fire and I told him to move, it’s not my fault they put the toaster right under the cupboards.” he defends.

She shakes her head, “You’re insane.”

He sits up, looking down at her plate of food, “Yeah, well at least I’m not going to get food poisoning.”

She waves him off, “I’m not going to get food poisoning.”

“Look at it, there’s mould on the chicken!” he cries, reaching over to point and she bats his hand away.

“Get your own food!” she snaps. He rolls his eyes threading his fingers through her hair and sighs Her eyes flutter closed and she leans her head against the sofa. It’s quiet, the only sound is their breathing and he doesn’t think he wants to move from this very spot when they’re both so comfortable in the silence of their own thoughts. “I’m tired.” she murmurs.

He looks down at her with eyes soft around the edges of the cold look she’s grown so used to and he nods, “Me too.”

His fingers thread through the knots and his thumb brushes her cheek and a part of her feels that this isn’t what friends do, but when he makes her feel like this she doesn’t care. “Can we watch House?” She asks quietly.

He breathes a laugh, “As long as you promise not to spoil it for me.”

This time she laughs, “Well I’m sorry I used to watch ER. At least your life is safe in my hands, imagine, you could have a heart attack right now and I would know what to do.” she assures.

He rolls his eyes, “If I have a heart attack its because of all the stress you cause me.”



It’s a Thursday when Ten realises he might like her as more than a friend.

They’re in the supermarket, travelling between aisles in search of cheap food that they can easily make because neither of them is particularly good at cooking. He’s pushing the trolley and she’s sitting inside it, a lollipop in her mouth as she grabs at rice packets and biscuits and throws them into her lap. “We don’t need those.” He points out as she slides a stack of waffles somewhere next to her knee.

She wags a finger at him but doesn’t turn, “We always need waffles.” She assures.

He shakes his head, “There is literally no situation in which we would ever need waffles.”

She grabs a cowboy hat that someone disregarded in the cereal aisle and pops the lollipop out of her mouth, “well, what if the queen comes around?”

“The queen?” He scoffs, throwing in a pack of cereal that he knows she likes.

“Yeah!” She cries, “And what if she stays for breakfast and we’ve only made pancakes but she doesn’t like pancakes and we don’t have any waffles!” she holds them up to show him, “We can’t let down the queen!”

“Of which country?” He asks in response

She pauses. “England?” She suggests, “Or maybe a Russian Tzar, oh! Do you think Rasputin might come round?” She exclaims, turning to face him with this child-like grin that turns his leg to jelly.

He shakes his head with a small smile, “Rasputin’s dead.” he points out and she waves him off.

“That’s what they want you to think.” She assures, “And if he ever visits I can assure you that he is a waffle person.”

“Okay, now what your reasoning for this?” He asks, reaching forward to pull the cowboy hat from her head.

She snatches it back, “I look good in it, is that not reason enough?”

“Were not going to buy it.” he points out, “Despite the fact that it’s just you and me, we eat a lot.

She mock gasps, “But what if woody comes round for dinner?”

He rolls his eyes, turning the trolley towards the costume aisle, “Don’t you think he’d be offended by you impersonating a cowboy?”

She pauses.

“You’re right!” She cries, ripping the hat off her head. She wriggles around in the cart and clambers to her knees, facing him as she places it against his hair and begins to tie string to hold in place under his chin. “You’d look more realistic as a cowboy.” she smirks and he’s staring longer that he should.

“Can I get a tiara?” He asks, still pushing the trolley and she grins.

“Of course you can princess, any particular colour?” She questions, her eyes crinkling with her smile.

He hesitates, a finger tapping his chin as he pretends to think, “Pink or purple, whatever they’ve got.”

She nods, “Yes-sir-ie” she jokes in the most southern accent she can muster and leans out of the trolley, picking up various princess costumes, “Would you like to slip into an apple induced coma or lose a shoe on a wild night out?” She asks, holding them up to face him.

He smirks, “Depends, do I meet the love of my life?” He asks, looking her straight into the eyes before realising the fact that his heart rate is way up.

She smiles, adjusting the cowboy hat on his head, “Why, do tell me your deepest, darkest wish and the genie will make it a reality.” She says, again in a southern accent, “Is it princess Jasmine? Was it her beautiful dark eyes?”

He cocks his head leaning closer, “No.” he shakes his head, still staring, too long. She notices. “They look like yours.”

“Shut up.” She jokes and when he doesn’t say anything the smile slowly slides off her face. She hesitates, “You’re serious?” She deadpans.

He shrugs, “Same colour hair, same freckles on her cheek, same smile.” he blurts before he can even realise that this is probably a mistake.

And she stays kneeled in the trolley, their faces close enough to see the truth in each others eyes and that cowboy hat still on his face. She blinks, trying to ignore her heartbeat, “Are you banging my sister?” she raises an eyebrow.

And they laugh, but they never talk about it again.



She glares at him from her seat at the dining room table, “I told you, I can’t.”

He throws himself dramatically onto the table, whining and pretending to sob, “But please!” he begs, praying in her direction and pouting.

She shakes her head, ignoring him, “No. You asked me a week ago and my answer was no, you asked me yesterday and my answer was no and then you asked me today and guess what? My answer is still no.”

“But you promised!” he exclaims.

She stares at him almost astounded, “I did no such thing.” she assures cordially.

He wags his finger, “At 4:30 am on the Friday of last week you said that you would come with me.”

“4:30 am? On Friday? You mean when I had been awake for 52 hours?” she cries.

He holds his hands up, “You still promised.”

“I was sleep deprived!” she yells.

“It counts!” he assures.

“It does not!” she replies, “Now get off the table, you’re sitting on my work.” she demands.

He shakes his head, “Nope.” and proceeds to lie down on top of the mounds of paper and open textbooks. “You’re coming. Get your shoes it’s Latin night.”

“I don’t even dance!” she cries, running short of arguments he’ll just ignore anyway.

He shrugs, “You do with me.” he points out.

She glares at him, crossing her arms and trying her best not to blush. He looks so hopeful and pleading and the white shirt he’s wearing clings to his body like it’s always belonged there. She wrinkles her nose, shaking her head, “You’re so annoying.” she huffs angrily.

But he grins, this wide million watt smile that blinds her and makes her forget that she’s angry  because oh god he looks so beautiful. “Yes!” he cries, sitting up. She grabs a textbook and whacks him with it, “Ow! What was that for?”

“For constantly roping me into this shit!” she replies and he laughs, a laugh that makes her heart stutter and die in her chest.

She hits him again.



It’s a Thursday when they first kiss.

Its 3am and they’re still dancing in the club at Latin night. Her feet are sore and her legs ache but she’s got this huge grin on her face and her veins are intoxicated with a flood of alcohol. Or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at her, who knows. There are waves of bodies crushed together and music that pounds her ears until the floor shakes and the lights become a haze of colours that ripple through her mind.

He twirls her around and laughs when she does because her laugh is infectious and he can’t stop staring. “Shots?” She asks and he nods.

They weave between the plethora of bodies that nearly crush them and she reaches out to hold onto his hand so they don’t lose each other. She nearly slams into the bar and they both laugh because they’re pretty drunk, and they’ve been here so long the bartender knows what to give them.

“Three, two, one!” They shout over the music and then they lick the salt from their hands, down the shot and then stick a lemon in each others mouths. They laughing and smiling and they’re touchier than usual because they’re drunk and fuck it, boundaries disappear when they’re drunk.

His arms is around her waist and his fingers grip at the bare skin  her hip to hold her in place. She smiles and pushes the hair back from his sweaty forehead, “You’re hot.” She points out, breathing heavily because she is too.

He smirks, “Thanks, I know.”

She laughs and shoves his chest, “You’re an idiot.”

But she pushes too hard and looses her own balance but he catches her  wrapping both arms around her. Her hands land on his shoulders so she can stop herself from falling down and that, right then, is when they kiss.

Because why not?

They’re both consenting adults, neither of them will remember and when he kisses her like that she doesn’t care. His fingers are tangled in her hair and her skin is on fire, their veins feel like they’re being pricked over and over again by tiny needles.

This probably shouldn’t be happening, they’re friends- best friends. Best friends don’t kiss each other like the world is at their feet. But their kissing too deeply, too much like they care that they lose their balance and nearly fall down again. And so they back to dancing, but things change from then on.



“You haven’t spoken to him? You live together!” Johnny cries and she rolls her eyes.

“That’s another problem. I need to find an apartment.” she adds, staring down at her coffee and swirling it with the small spoon provided.

“Are you serious?” He mutters, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and middle finger. “You can’t just move out.”

She shrugs, “Why not? He has six hours of lectures on Thursday, I can pack up some stuff, stay at yours.”

He scoffs a laugh, “You are not staying at mine.”

She frowns, leaning forward, “Why not?”

Because-” he hisses and then pauses, taking a deep breath. “Because you can’t just not talk to your best friend for a week and then move out without any explanation.”

“Fine, I’ll leave a note.” she surrenders, waving her arms.

“Are you serious? Jesus you’re just as bad as each other.” He huffs angrily, leaning back in his chair because he’s sick of both of them.

She pauses and stops swirling her coffee, “What do you mean? He’s spoken to you?” she demands, her eyes wide.

He waves her off, “I’m not playing messenger between the two-”

“Does he hate me?” She asks quietly, looking back down at her coffee.

Johnny purses his lips and sighs, “Of course he doesn’t hate you, you’re his best friend.” he says softly, because he can tell she’s worried.

She swallows, looking out of the window, “I need to move out.” She determine.

Johnny throws his arm up, “Jesus Christ do something.” he begs.



Is a Thursday when they finally realise they’ve been in love with each other for years.

She goes back home when he’s at his six hours of lectures, but she’s still quiet anyway because she doesn’t really feel like she going home, she feels like she’s stepping into forbidden territory. She tip toes in, closing the door quietly behind her, “What are you doing?” A voice says.

She jumps, holding her hand to her heart and squeezing her eyes shut. But slowly she opens them, landing on Ten. He’s sitting on one end of the sofa with a book in his hand and a frown on his face. He looks tired, bags under his eyes and they’ve lost their usual glint. “I’m just uh…” she trails off, pointing to her room

She doesn’t finish that sentence, “Where have you been?” he asks with no particular tone of voice.

She swallows, dropping her keys into the bowl on the kitchen counter. “Busy.” She states, “I’ve had this project due so I’ve been living in the library for the past week and-”

“Stop lying to me.” He interrupts sadly, closing the book. He looks disappointed, like he expected better from her. “I think…” he trails off, scratching his head, “I think we need to talk.”

“About what? The state of our economy?” She smirks, laughing to hide the fear behind her words, “You know, China has had some fascinating developments in-”

“Us.”

“Well no actually, they’ve been working on a new train that is elevated above the city of-”

Hey!” He interrupts again, standing up this time. “You being in perpetual denial does not help anyone.” he scoffs, approaching her.

She rolls her eyes, “I’m not in denial, denial of what?”

“Do you remember that night?” He asks like he’s making sure she’s genuinely just ignoring him for another reason. He sounds so scared and tired that she opens her mouth but finds nothing to say.

She swallows, looking down at her feet, “It was a mistake.”

He shakes his head and scoffs bitterly, “No. It was a long time coming.”

She frowns, “What are you talking about?” She demands angrily-, but deep down she knows so maybe she really is in denial.

He cocks his head, “Wow, you really are oblivious.” he shakes his head and sighs, “there have been multiple occasions on which we’ve basically admitted how we felt and still neither of us did anything.”

She sneers, “We were drunk, people do dumb shit when they’re drunk.”

He shakes his head, “Sometimes we were sober.”

“It was still a mistake!” She cries, suddenly angry because he’s making her feel bad now.

“No, the mistake was falling for you.” he snaps back immediately.

Her neck snaps up, “What?” She breathes.

He cocks his head with a small smile, “Come on babe. You know what i’m talking about.” he assures, his fingers hooking apprehensively through hers.

She frowns, curling her fingers with his until she feels like he won’t let go. She steps closer to him and he sucks in a slow and steady breath, his eyes widening at the look she’s giving him. There’s this soft smile on her face and her eyes are shaded with hope and wonder and she swallows, “How long?” she asks quietly.

He laughs, “Do you remember when we went to prom and you wore that purple dress and the necklace I got you and the most jaw dropping smile i’ve ever seen another human wear.” he pauses, reaching up slowly and placing a hand on her cheek, “I realised that… there’s no-one else like you.” He smiles, “The day I met you was the day everything became a hundred times clearer, like I finally understood the reason i was put on this earth.”

She smiles as his arms come to wrap around her waist, and she feels like her skin is on fire wherever he touches her. “What happens now?”

And he kisses her again.

Its like poison in her veins, like she’s sliding down a cloud and his smile is the rainbow. “Now-” he breathes against her lips, “Now I think we need to establish something.” he states in all seriousness.

“Oh, okay, what?” She asks carefully.

“Rasputin is dead, and the Queen is not a waffle person” he blurts. “I bet you the queen only eats kale for breakfast or something.”

She looks aghast, “Now hold on a second-”

anonymous asked:

So how would all of them panthom thieves react if their S/O ( a persona user too) got hurt for protceting them against a very porwerful shadow (like jumping in front attack meant for them) ?

That shadow would not live to see another second. I didn’t include Crow because he’s technically not a Phantom Thief, but if you want him added, let me know! Thank you for the ask!

Edit: I forgot to add gifs because I’m a big dummy, so here’s the revision!

Joker:

  • This would be the one time he loses his composure. He would immediately heal them but he would break out in a cold sweat while doing so. The rest of the team covers for him while he patches up their wound. He would not hesitate to issue an order to switch them out with someone else, even if they still wanted to fight.
  • Joker silently faces the shadow, and if the look in his eyes didn’t kill it then his most powerful attacks will have to do the job.
  • He becomes more reckless trying to ensure that the shadow suffers a hundred times the amount of pain that s/o did. He forgets to heal himself so that’s left up to the rest of the team.
  • The battle’s over shortly, and he hastily rushes over to their side.
  • “Are you all right?”
  • They reassure him that they’re fine, and he nods in response. The team is exhausted, so everyone decides to pack up and head home. Joker doesn’t take his eyes off his s/o for the entirety of the trip back to reality, and then he escorts them to Leblanc for some coffee.
  • “Thank you, by the way.” He sets the freshly brewed coffee in front of them. “And I’m sorry. As the leader I’m supposed to protect my teammates, and I failed.”
  • “Even you can’t do everything by yourself,” they said. “Let us protect you once in a while.”
  • Akira smiled sweetly and nodded. He never once left their side until he reluctanly had to send them home.



Skull:

  • He was taken by surprise when they shoved him out of the way. He was even more speechless as he watched them hit the ground with so much force. He abruptly rushes over, and his panic causes him to trip over himself as he desperately tries to approach them. 
  • “You okay?! Say somethin’, dammit!”
  • He fumbles around his pockets for healing items and practically jams a Muscle Drink down their throat. Once he’s sure they’re okay he returns to battle, more violent than ever.
  • “You son of a bitch!”
  • The blows from a shotgun, accompanied by Skull’s profane shouting, reverberated throughout the room. After the battle, he’s at their side in an instant and helping them stand.
  • “Don’t do somethin’ so reckless ever again. ‘Kay?”
  • His arm is pasted around them for the rest of the journey home.



Panther:

  • She was fuming when they suddenly pushed her to the ground.
  • “Hey! What gives?!”
  • She noticed the gash on their chest and felt all the color drain from her face.
  • “Oh my god…”
  • Ignoring everything else, she crouches down to her s/o and utilizes Carmen’s healing ability. She strokes their cheek and silently trudges back to battle.
  • “…Carmen.” 
  • The shadow is engulfed in powerful flames, and it doesn’t take long until it disintegrates from the scalding licks of fire. Panther then dashes to her now standing s/o, their mouth agape as they stared at her in awe.
  • “What?” Panther asks, a faint blush creeping on her cheeks.
  • “That was really hot,” they replied.
  • Panther retaliated with a light smack on their shoulder and then proceeded to pout.
  • “It’s not funny! You really had me worried!”
  • Regardless of her ‘anger’, Panther still laced her fingers with her s/o’s, and the two regrouped with their fellow thieves.



Fox:

  • Fox would be severely injured at this rate. His agility was second to none but the blows he did receive were potent. Just as the shadow was ready to strike again, Fox felt a pair of hands shove him away, and by the time he turned around to observe what happened his s/o was already unconscious on the ground.
  • “No!”
  • The shadow was relentless as it struck at Fox yet again. In the blink of eye, the shadow fell to the ground. Slowly, Fox turned to the helpless shadow that was now pleading for its life. A sadistic grin tugged at the corners of Fox’s lips.
  • “And the curtain falls.”
  • When he sheathed his katana the shadow dissipated, and the battle was over. Fox heard coughing behind him and redirected his attention back toward his s/o. He threw himself to the ground next to them and held them in his arms.
  • “Are you all right?”
  • They nodded weakly.
  • “That was very foolish of you. How could you be so careless?” They dropped their head apologetically. Fox sighed.
  • “I apologize as well. Had it not been for my own impetuousness you would not have needed to shield me.”
  • His s/o took Fox’s free hand and kissed it. “Don’t be sorry, I wanted to protect you.” They glanced over at the nearby sketchbook.
  • Fox followed their gaze and eyed his drawing. 
  • “Perhaps we should take our art study ‘date’ to a more secure location.”



Queen:

  • Even though Queen was tough as nails, she wasn’t invulnerable. She had become fatigued from using so much energy and her movements became slower. If she suffered a critical hit, she wasn’t sure if she could muster enough energy to heal herself. 
  • As the shadow swung at her, she saw her s/o leap right in front of her. The impact was enough to knock the couple down. 
  • Queen pried herself out from under her s/o to get a better look at their injuries. They weren’t fatal, but they weren’t exactly minor either. Queen manifested first aid from her pocket and gently assisted her s/o while the sounds of battle echoed behind her. She stood up as soon as she finished.
  • “Wait here. I need to take care of something first.”
  •  S/o grabbed Queen’s wrist and rose. “I’m coming too.”
  • “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re staying here.”
  • “Please,” s/o pleaded.
  • Queen hesitated for a moment before averting her gaze from them and abruptly summoning Johanna.
  • “Hop on.”
  • S/o smiled and did as they were told. Even though they were still wounded, they could still operate their gun. They squeezed Queen’s waist.
  • “Ready when you are… my Queen.”
  • She felt her face heat up upon hearing the nickname. 
  • “Charge, Johanna!”
  • Their teammates jumped out of the way as the duo approached the shadow, the sound of gunshots ringing in their ears. Their combo attack had defeated the weakened shadow. A moment of silence followed.
  • “Damn…” Skull’s voice pierced through the quiet. “Those two are scary.”



Oracle:

  • It was just their luck to encounter a flying shadow. The beast kept swatting at Necronomicon instead of paying attention to the thieves that were on the ground shooting bullets at it. The shadow finally managed to land a hit, and both the Persona and its inhabitant crashed to the ground.
  • Necronomicon faded away, leaving an exposed and vulnerable Oracle. The shadow procured its claws and was getting ready to swing. Oracle feebly attempted to shield herself, but the impact never came.
  • “Huh? Is it game over?” 
  • She dropped her arms to discover her s/o clutching their stomach, blood painted all over their thief outfit.
  • “N-no… hang on, I can fix this! Mona, take over for me!” 
  • Oracle once again summoned her Persona and briskly tapped away on the keyboard-like holograph. S/o had collapsed at this point, and they were gradually losing consciousness.
  • “Okay! That should do the trick. I’ll talk to you later.”
  • A wave of tranquility overcame s/o, and their broken skin had started to converge. Their attire had also repaired itself.
  • After the Phantom Thieves crushed their opponent, Oracle sped over to her newly revitalized s/o.
  • “I’m really sorry! You almost died because of me,” she said, her voice laden with guilt.
  • “You saved my life, Oracle. Thank you.”
  • They patted the hacker on the top of her head.
  • “E-eep! N-now I feel like I’m gonna die!” Oracle exclaimed with a face as red as her hair.



Noir:

  • Noir had become quite accustomed to battle. However, she had her weaknesses too. The enemy hit her with a nuclear attack, and she instantly hit the ground with a cry of pain. Just as the shadow launched another nuclear attack at her, s/o swiftly hurled themself at the incoming fatality. They were brought to their knees. 
  • The shadow reared back once more to deliver the final hit. Dazed, Noir gathered the last portion of her strength.
  • “Milady!”
  • The Persona manifested, and the guns beneath her skirt fired instantaneously and brutally. When the shadow gave way and collided with the floor, it started to offer money and goods in exchange for its life.
  • Noir advanced toward it, dragging her ax behind her. 
  • “I will take… your life.”
  • She swung her ax down and split the shadow in two, causing it to fracture and turn to dust. Noir composed herself again, adjusted her hat, and made her way to her savior.
  • “Are you all right, my dear? You must be more careful.”
  • She wore a slight pout on her lips. S/o couldn’t help but grin. They procured a used Bead from their pocket and flaunted it as if it were a trophy.
  • “I had it covered,” they stated, provoking a sigh from Noir.
  • “You are quite the handful… but I’m glad that you’re safe. Thank you for saving me.”
  • Noir smiled bashfully, and s/o brought their forehead to hers, ignoring the gagging sounds that the rest of the group were producing. How could someone so cute simultaneously be so dangerous?


Blending

Originally posted by ofallingstar

Character: Prince Adam (The Beast)

You stared down at your freshly cleaned palette, debating on if you should paint again so soon after spending a great deal of time scrubbing the long dried paint off the wood, even having to scratch off bits of crimson and mauve from the small crooks of the board with the plates of your nails. But nonetheless, it was your job to paint the various portraits and murals for the castle hallways and ballrooms.

You set up your easel in the center of the castle gardens, the large structure towering above you in all of it’s opulence and glory. Taking a moment to adjust your sun hat to rid of the blinding light, you placed a small workbench off to your side with all of your various shades of paints and brushes in a multitude of shapes and styles.

Taking a small step back you tilted your head in various angles to decipher how to go about painting the castle as to the Prince’s request. Once you found something you liked you immediately set upon your work, sketching out the bases and eventually getting lost in the motions as you so often did when the proper inspiration struck you.

You were so absorbed in the creation unfolding before you, you didn’t hear the sound of footsteps approaching you from behind. The person’s footsteps stopped when they were still a good bit away, but close enough to watch your craft.

It wasn’t until you placed your paintbrush down and opened a jar of deep blue paint that you noticed the fancy heeled shoes standing out in contrast to the grass. Your gaze slowly moved up and you came face to face with the Prince of the castle.

You about jumped four feet in the air upon seeing him, almost knocking over your worktable had it not been for your arms that quickly wrapped around it and halting it’s fall. “Y-Your Majesty!” You said in a brief moment of shock. “You’ll have to forgive me, I wasn’t expecting anyone to be out here so early in the day.”

He offered you a small smile and glanced at the various swatches of paint that lined the backs of your hands that still had an iron grip on the table. You noticed the odd look he gave you and immediately released your hold. “Is there something I can help you with, sire?”

Prince Adam shook his head as he peered over your shoulder to gaze upon the canvas. “This is the painting I asked of the castle is it not?”

You nodded your head silently, moving slightly so he could look at it more closely as you stepped back from him, arms behind your back as you awaited his inspection.

“I knew I had chosen you for a reason, this is some rather extraordinary work.” He said with a cheerful tone as he turned to you with a small smile.

Your hand went under your chin as your eyes went to his in surprise. “Do you really think so?” You asked sincerely, taking a step closer as you moved to his side.

This was the first compliment you had received from the young Prince since your employment. As a matter of fact, you hadn’t seem him much at all since your brief introduction on your first day as the court painter of the Royal household. Some of the staff explained that he was busy with remodels of some of the castle exterior and overall attempting to brush out a lot of tangles that had occurred within the management of the kingdom.

However, when you asked what had happened, they’d all smile and shrug their shoulders, telling you he had been away for a rather long time and things had gotten a little hectic within the castle walls.

“How could I not? Your style is really rather unique than the painters we’ve had in the castle before, it captures a lot more of it’s real essence.”

You bowed respectfully. “Thank you, sire.”

He shook his head and held out his arms in front of them. “There really isn’t a need for the formalities. You need only call me by my name.“

“As you wish, Prince Adam.”

Adam made made an attempt to say something to you, but stopped himself short.”It’s only just now occurred to me I don’t really now your name, and since you know mine it only seems fair to tell me.”

You gave him a minuscule smile before telling him what he wished to hear. “(Y/n), my name’s (Y/n).”

You had held out your hand with intentions for him to shake it, but he took it gently in own and kissed the back of it. “Well it is very nice to make your acquaintance, (Y/n).”

You laughed bashfully as you looked into his eyes. “Likewise.”

A/n: I have zero clue where this would go in terms of timeline,although it does take place after the curse has been broken but let’s just say it’s an alternative end where Belle opts to travel Europe after the curse instead. (lame i know but bare with me here, it’s all i got at the moment.)

TYPE: Ghost Shell Recording

DESCRIPTION: Conversation

LOCATION: Tower

//AUDIO AVAILABLE//

//RECORDING FOLLOWS//

[1.1] What’s that?

[2.1] It’s a hat.

[1.2] You’re making a hat?

[2.2] Crocheting. Keeps the mind off things, keeps the hands steady. You don’t do anything like that? Y’know…create something? Instead of just destroy it?

[1.3] Buddy, when you’re as good at destroying stuff as I am, you don’t need much else.

[2.3] Right. Each his own, then.

[1.4] Gotta say, this is kinda surprising coming from someone who spends most of his time punching aliens. You don’t even have anyone to give gifts to.

[2.4] Don’t have to give ‘em away if I don’t want to. It’s more like - it’s more like I’m making armor. For things that I want to protect.

[1.5] That’s not going to stop a bullet.

[2.5] It’s a metaphor, you pylon. I thought Hunters were clever.

[1.6] I think the word you’re looking for is “pragmatic.”

[silence]

[1.7] It means sensible.

[2.6] I know what it means! Anyway, I crochet something for all the stuff I care about.

[1.8] Ah. I wondered about your collection of hat-wearing rocks.

[2.7] One from each planet. And now I’m pretty good at making hats.

[silence]

[1.9] And you - I mean, it makes a difference? Makes you feel good?

[silence]

[2.8] More’n that. It almost - it almost makes me feel alive.

[silence]

[silence]

[2.9] Here, it’s done. Happy Dawning - the hat’s for you. Make sure you keep your head attached to your neck.

Flames and Snowflakes

Yours’ one shot series - Ethan Dolan

Warning: smut

Two pairs of snow boots heavily trudged uphill on slick and slushy terrain. The sun was shining brightly in the clouded sky, but beneath it was deceiving- trees without leaves, snow and ice filtering the ground, crisp flakes soaring and swooshing about with the wind. It was cold, the skin on Ethan’s arms erupting in goosebumps under his coat while he held firmly to his snowboard. A smirk lifted on his lips listening to you moan and groan.

“Go to Colorado, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.” You huffed, stepping around a few more boulders, twigs crunching under your feet. “I knew I should’ve tagged along with Grayson, instead.”

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The Devil Drinks Tequila

BTS Yoongi / Bad Boy / Words: 4,617 / Warnings: underage drinking, lotta cursing
@savageyoonji requested:  Hey!! could I possibly request a drabble (or whatever you prefer) about being at school with Suga who is kind of a bad boy and you have a tiny secret crush on him? Thank you so much!!
A/N: this took 10 years and it aint even good im so sorry

Black printed words on a page floated before your vision like waves in the ocean before you blinked hard, wishing that the school sold coffee somewhere on campus. No matter how long your afternoon naps were, or how early you shut your phone off and retired it to your nightstand, you were always so damn tired. And it didn’t help when your government teacher was a raving bitch, that yelled at the whole class like a madwoman about a cheating scandal that she claims to have happened. You had probably rolled your eyes fifty times that day, because you were so done with high school and teachers and the way they believed they could manipulate students just because they were older. But there you were, stuck in the library, trying to force yourself to care about the media and it’s impact on public opinion. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t find a way.

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Sidney Crosby #1

First Sid of many, feel free to send me requests :)

Word Count: 1,565

Originally posted by jonnytaze19

Mania. That’s the one word you’d use to explain the world you were living right about now. Even from down the hallway you could hear the cheers from the away team dressing room. There were people everywhere you looked, shoulders bumping with strangers who wore the same grin that you had on your face while you turned to walk into the dressing room. 

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