#i’ve had ones that alerted me to their presence by falling loudly onto the floor with a genuine THUNK

[daisychainsandbowties]

me when im scared of spiders and you put a picture of one under the cut: oh well i just have to see this! maybe this time it wont be scary! and then everytime it is scary and i get scared :o

keep up the good work spideys deserve someone in their corner!

this spider is so stupid though if you could have seen me like “hey buddy hop on” and him crying and running away like i was killing him, skiting seeds everywhere. and then going “oh cool!!!” when i stuck the pringles can inside. dude climbed straight in there no hesitation and now i have it out in the garden where it’s safe from my cats and he’s sitting in it like “get the fuck away from my house” (ง'̀-'́)ง

(once again under the cut)

#he is actually very small for a house spider #i’ve had ones that alerted me to their presence by falling loudly onto the floor with a genuine THUNK #and yeah. my housemates have terrible taste in pringles #as if there’s any flavour besides the green one #tw spiders #anon #but you were so brave though!

[daisybeewrites]

July — d.j.

for @dreamcxtcherr ‘s 3k writing challenge. congrats lena!!

word count: 1.8k

warnings: mention of car crash/death, mention of alcohol consumption, daisy cries, i think thats it lmk if not!!

ship: R x daisy johnson

okay y’all… first ever anggstttttt!!! i’m way too excited about it. if you want a fully immersive experience, i recommend listening to july by noah cyrus slowed + reverb

(gif uncredited on pinterest (ugh, i hate that. credit a gif if you use it!! im trying to find the owner)) update — found owner

It was another mission. Another nightmarish fire-fight where you almost lost a limb, almost lost a friend, almost lost your life. Twenty-four hours later and you’re back home, safe.

Well, as safe as you can be when your engagement is on the verge of breaking off.

You stare at the simple ring on your left hand. White gold band, a tiny amethyst set to the left of a diamond. There was a nearly identical one lying next to the sink, the only difference being the switched places of the glittering gems.

You know she didn’t do it purposefully. You had both been exhausted after what was supposed to be an in-and-out mission turned into a hostage situation. Daisy did what she always did as soon as you were home — take off her gauntlets, wash her hands in the sink, grab a snack, and hop into a steaming shower.

But you still can’t stop yourself from staring at it, eyes fixed, hands shaking, breath held and mind racing.

You used to join her. You would wash each other’s hair, ease each other’s sore muscles with delicate touches on tender purple-black bruises. She would lean into you, letting you braid her hair and falling asleep in your arms, drifting into a deep slumber. It was intimate, lovely; it was normal and perfect.

Taking a sip of your room-temperature beer, you slide off the cool granite of the kitchen island. You had a new routine after missions now, you just had to get used to it.

You hear the shower shut off, bare feet pad into your cosy bedroom, and the door shut with a loud creak. The minute squeak of the mattress tells you that Daisy flopped into bed.

A ghost of a smile lights your face. It looks more like a grimace, you think, as you check your distorted reflection in the green glass of your beer bottle. Chucking the empty bottle in the recycling, you run a hand through your dirty, salty hair. The comfy sweats you changed into an hour ago would need to be washed, the dirt still adorning your skin rubbing off on the black material. You exhale before heading down the hall towards the bathroom.

The tiled room is filled with steam, the mirror fogged up so that only a blurry outline of your silhouette could be seen. You are unrecognizable.

How fitting.

The quick, cold shower you take does nothing to ease your mind or body. You wipe the mirror in a circle, taking out a first aid kit.

With all your cuts bandaged and the proper creams Jemma had snuck to you and Daisy applied to your fresh bruises, you headed into the hallway in your towel.

Daisy is standing in the kitchen, lilac lounge shorts you bought her last Christmas showing off her tanned and scarred legs. She looks warm and soft, a very different Daisy than the superhero who had broken a mob boss’ legs just hours before. Her hair is wet and in braids. You frown. You always braid her hair.

If she hears you, she doesn’t turn around, so you take a moment to admire her. Ten seconds, that’s all you give yourself. It was a stressful mission, if you stare too long she might snap. From the back, you can’t see the dark circles you know are there, but you can see the tension in her shoulders and the slight tilt of her head as she ponders what to eat.

You say nothing as you go to the bedroom to change. You find a black pair of SHIELD sweats and an old, holey t-shirt you vaguely remember stealing from Fitz. A presence at the doorway catches your attention.

“Hi,” Daisy says tentatively. Your breath caught in your throat, your lungs holding the air captive until Daisy spoke again.

“I missed you.”

Your eyes widened. Maybe tonight wouldn’t end with one of you on the couch, clutching a six pack while the other cried as quietly as possible, tucked into cold, lonely sheets.

“Braiding my hair, I mean,” She clarified. Her fingers twisted together, rigid posture giving away her nerves.

The air felt humid, as if the open window had suddenly sucked all the AC out and let the mid-summer heat in. Your memory flashes to the last time you and Daisy had a normal, happy conversation.

The edges are fuzzy, but the pure joy in Daisy’s chocolate eyes is clear. Fairy lights strung haphazardly around the living room, a movie playing in the background, your lips on hers. Blankets make a ceiling over your head that shut out the rest of the world, this moment was only for you two. You played with the thin metal band on her ring finger, she ran her hands through her hair. Her matching ring scratched your scalp lightly. You both smile as you pull away. You whisper childhood stories, laugh at the funny parts and offer melancholic smiles at the not-so-lighthearted parts. You were happy.

That night you got the call — Lincoln Campbell, yours and Daisy’s best friend, had wrapped his car around a telephone pole coming off of a long shift at the hospital. His blood alcohol was almost .40.

Eggshells littered the house from the time you got back from the funeral. One wrong word, Daisy would snap and spend hours punching a bag until her fingers bled. You would fill those hours with whatever was closer — wine or your car keys. You pulled yourself out of your head, realizing you should answer her.

“I missed it, too,” You breathed.

Daisy made a small, unintelligible noise before collapsing against the door frame. You froze for only a second, your mind racing through possibilities. Was she bleeding internally? Was it her back again? Did she get shot and not notice until now?

You leap over to her, catching her as she crumbles to the hardwood floor.

A quiet sob wracks her chest. Your hands hover over her slouched back, unsure how to comfort her. At this moment, Daisy feels foreign. Her sudden vulnerability alerts you to how she’s been holding her emotions in for god knows how long.

“Daisy…” You start, hesitantly.

Daisy hiccups loudly, another wave of tears washing over her.

“Tell me to leave, I’ll pack my bags,” Daisy cried, “But I don’t, I-I don’t want to lose you!”

Burning tears gather on your lash line, threatening to fall at her words. You never could stand to see Daisy cry.

Your brows furrow slightly in confusion before you realize what Daisy is talking about. After Lincoln’s death, you two had fought increasingly more often until Daisy locked herself away or spent the night at May’s, and you went for drives until your car ran on empty. On those nights, bottles of wine disappeared from the cabinet without a trace.

Daisy sits up, stamping down her sobs, seemingly resigning herself to the fact that you aren’t going to say anything. Her trembling lip and red eyes pierce your heart. The astronomical distance between you two seems atomic now. You reach out quicker than lightning, shushing her cries and rubbing her back.

“Do you want to go?” You asked after a while. Your knees dig uncomfortably into the floor, your shoulder hurts from the ridges in the doorframe.

Daisy sniffles, her hair falling into her face as she looks away. You crane your neck down, carefully tucking her hair behind her ear.

“You know I’m afraid of change, I guess that’s why we’ve stayed the same,” You sigh, your chest constricting and squeezing the broken glass pieces of your heart.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself to continue, “But if you want to find a new life, someone who loves you better than I do, darling, I understand.”

Daisy is still frozen, stare burning holes in the floor. You’re glad that the two of you are at home, the poly-tectic adaptive materials hidden between the walls keeping the house from collapsing. By the slight groan of the foundation, you can imagine Daisy could bring down a mountain with the amount of pain she’s in.

Which can only mean one thing.

“I’m not enough,” You stated. It wasn’t a question. You glance down, a glint in the low light cast from the lamp on the bedside table catching your eye. She has her ring on…

Daisy finally, finally shakes her head ‘no’. You let go of a breath, guilt building every second that passes. She isn’t happy. You shouldn’t be happy that she’s staying.

“Feels like a lifetime, we’ve been trying to get by while we’re dying inside,” You say, gently.

Daisy snaps her eyes to yours, a desperation in them you recognize as grief.

“So much of the past year has been consumed by grief. We never took time off, we never talked about it. I’ve done a lot of things wrong, loving you being one,” She whispers.

You nod, there is no denying that you each had a part in getting to where you are now. Delicately, you grab her hand. She squeezes it, a rush of small vibrations traveling up your arm. Your chest flutters at the familiar affection.

“So have I,” You assure her. She gradually falls towards you, exhausted. You let her rest her head on your shoulder, her breath evening out as her arms wrap around you. You feel hot tears flow down your face, fall onto her hair. Slowly, you pull Daisy closer to you.

Hours later, the sun peeks over the top of the mountain range in the distance. You had adjusted the two of you sometime around two a.m., no longer able to feel your legs from how the floor cut off your circulation.

Sometime around three, you had gathered the courage to move Daisy to the bed, trying hard not to wake her. She had only turned over and not let go of your hand.

You haven’t slept at all tonight, thoughts spinning until you force yourself to pause and count to ten, only to repeat the pattern.

You know what you have to do. You know what’s best for the both of you. You’ll leave, pack your bags and find a place to stay until you can scrape up enough money to rent an apartment. You’ll go to therapy, learn to live without Lincoln, without Daisy. Eventually, Daisy will heal, too. You both have the team at your backs, no matter what happens. She would be okay.

But you know you won’t. The fear of losing Daisy, of losing your life, your home, yourself stops you. You can’t move on. You can’t move forward.

You know that the big changes it takes to heal could cost you Daisy. So, you stay the same. You give into fear. You’ll never be enough, never love Daisy right, never quite heal fully — and neither will Daisy. But you still stay.

You’ll always stay the same.

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

ahhhh how was it? did you love it? any feedback? want more? put any thoughts/feelings/questions/concerns in the comments or my ask box!! i really enjoyed writing this and i hope you enjoyed reading it even more!!

<<3

#daisy johnson x y/n #daisy johnson x reader #marvels aos #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d. #angst #fic #quake #ashby writes #dousy #lincoln cambell x daisy johnson #lincoln cambell x reader #mcu #bioquake #jemma simmons #gn!reader

[peaxhcringe]

A Quiet Night

pairing: Oikawa x GN! Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: n/a

word count: 1.5K

summary: Cuddling with Oikawa  

A/N: This is my first Oikawa fic, and I’m really nervous to post this because I’m unsure if I got his character right. I just thought of this idea and had to write it out, before I lost it. Enjoy!

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

“Babe?” Your voice calls out, bouncing lightly off the cream colored walls 

Your footsteps are quieted by the beige carpet that covers every part of the house, not alerting anyone of your presence. A small cup is held tightly in your hands, the warmth of the freshly made peppermint tea sends a sense of comfort through you, as you press it to your chest trying your best to not spill it. There was an eerie quietness to the house as you made your way down the hallway, the typical laughter or music from your boyfriend’s room now ceased. The hallway was dark, only the light from a couple windows added a bit of light allowing you to not trip over your own feet. 

“Are you up?” You asked out into the darkness, taking small steps the closer you got to his room 

An answer of silence filled the space, as you finally reached his room. Your eyes looked through the crack of the door, a light bluish glow filling the dark room. You softly placed your hand against the white door, and a small squeak breaking the silence as you pushed it open just enough to let you slide through. 

As you stepped in, closing the door softly behind you, your eyes fell upon the figure of your boyfriend sitting on the floor, only inches from his bed. A soft light blue blanket covered his shoulders as his legs were up to his chest, both arms wrapped tightly around them. His soft brown hair was patted down by the large headphones that rested against his ears, his brown eyes glued to the small laptop screen as it lit up his face. 

“Oikawa” You said softly, stepping closing to his huddled figure, your own e/c eyes scanning his body and face trying to take in his almost blank expression 

A frown fell upon your face as you watched him, his eyes following every movement on the screen knowing he was mentally taking notes. With a sigh you took the cup of tea from your hand, lightly setting it on a brown desk in his room, before lowering yourself on the ground next to Oikawa. 

“Babe” You said softly again, placing your hand on his shoulder, his head finally turning and noticing your presence 

With a nod, as a ‘hello’, he turned his gaze from you and back to the screen that played a game between Karasuno and some other team. You brought a hand up to his head, pushing the headphones off his head and placing them down beside you.

“Tooru” You said, watching as he turned his head back to you, an eyebrow raised “How long have you been watching this game?” You ask, letting your head turn to the screen then back to him 

“I’m not sure, I’ve watched it about 4 times” He answered honestly, tiredness hanging in his voice 

A sign left your lips as you brought your hand back to his head, pushing away a couple stray strands of his soft hair, before letting your hand fall to his cheek. 

“You need to get some rest” You suggest, taking notice of the developing dark circles underneath his deep brown eyes 

“I can’t, I need to studying that little number #10 and Tobio” He said, his eyes glancing back to the screen just in time to see the duo’s quick attack 

Softly, you let your thumb caress his cheek, the tip almost bumping into the base of his glasses, your eyes never leaving his face even as his attention was once again directed towards the game. Without warning a yawn escaped your mouth, your hand quickly reaching up and covering your mouth. 

“You can go ahead and go to bed” Oikawa stated, glancing to your tired face “You don’t have to wait for me” He continued, knowing that you typically wait for him 

Ever since you both started dating 3 years ago, it had become almost impossible to sleep without him next to you. It was a bit of pain in the ass when your parents wouldn’t let you go over, but somehow you both would find a way. 

“I can wait, I’m not that t-” You assured, a small yawn stopping you mid-sentence 

“Just go to bed, I don’t know how long I’ll be” He said, trying his best to convince to get your rest

“You need your rest more than me, you have a big game soon” You said, letting your hand fall down to his, wrapping it around his wrist “Come on” You begged tugging lightly on his arm 

With a sigh Oikawa turns to you, lifting an arm up to where the blanket that once wrapped around him was lifted up enough to let you under 

“Let me finish this then we’ll go to bed” He spoke, holding the blanket waiting for you to move underneath it  

Your eyes shifted from him to the blanket, before letting out a huff of slight annoyance 

“Fine, but you better sleep after this” You said, scooting closer to him, taking your spot next to him in the blanket

The instant he let his arm fall and the blanket wrap around you both the goosebumps that littered your skin were gone, warmth flooding through you. Oikawa’s arm resting around your shoulders, pulling you closer against him letting your head fall onto his shoulder. Your legs were brought up to rest in between you both, letting the warmth of Oikawa and the blanket fully take you in. Slowly, you lift your hand up and grip the blanket, pulling it closer to you as you cuddle closer to him, taking in the sweet scent of his cologne. 

“Tooru” You begin, tilting your head up and placing a soft kiss to his neck

You feel as his body tenses to your touch, one of your hands moves across him reaching to grasp his hand and intertwined your fingers with his. He hums in response, taking your hand in his own. The room was rather silent, minus the occasional yawns that came from you both. 

“You'll win. I know you will” You say, looking over to your hands, watching as your thumb rubbed against the back of his hand soothingly “I’ll be there in the stands rooting for you” You continue, with a small laugh remembering his face the first time you ever came to one of his games as his, wearing an old jersey of his and cheering him on so loudly that your voice was gone for a week. 

You watch as he tilts his head down to you, making his glasses fall down his face just a bit, his brown eyes lock with your e/c ones. A smile crosses your face before you lean into him, the tip of your nose brushing against his 

“I believe in you” You say, kissing him softly, the contrast between his chapped lips and your soft ones seeming almost perfect 

You pull away from him with a smile, letting your head rest back down against his shoulder. Oikawa’s hand squeezes yours once more, before he speaks 

“Y/n” He begins, his thumb now running against your hand 

You hum against him, the tiredness weighing on you 

“I love you” He confesses, tilting his head back down and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead 

A blush crosses your face, as you hear his words, your heart picking up it’s pace. 

“I love you too, Tooru” You say, letting your eyes close, sleep falling heavily against your body 

The room falls silent once again, the soft beating of Oikawa’s heart and warmth of his breath against you lulling your body to sleep. Unaware of Oikawa’s gaze on your already sleeping figure, unaware of how his eyes are scanning your face, taking notice of how your eyelashes fall gracefully against your cheeks and how a blush is prominent on your face. 

The more he takes in your form the more he realizes why he fell for you, and why he plans to never let you. A smile appears on his face as he slowly lets go of your hand to reach over and close the laptop, the room falling dark upon you both. The only light now available in the room coming from the rather bright moon that shone in the night sky. 

“Let’s get you to bed” Oikawa mumbled to himself, slowly pulling the blanket off of you both, your body instantly clinging to him tighter trying to find warmth after the loss of the blanket 

A small chuckle leaves Oikawa as he watches you try to find any sense of warmth. He carefully stands up, trying his best to not wake you as he lifts you up and carries you to the bed, letting you take his usual spot on the large bed. Reaching up, he pulls his glasses off his face, resting them quietly on the bedside table, before climbing into bed next to you. Before he had any chance to get comfortable your arms were already wrapped tightly around his chest, breathing in his scent. A quiet laugh leaves his mouth, as he carefully moves underneath the covers, both of you now wrapped in the warmth of the large white sheets. Oikawa slowly takes one of his hands and moves a couple pieces of hair away from you face, letting his hand fall into your hair. 

“I love you Y/n” He whispers, placing another small kiss to your forehead before sleep finally catches up to him.

#haikyuu #oikawa fluff #oikawa x reader #hq oikawa #haikyuu oikawa #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines

[miss-tc-nova]

Brave - Sora & Child!Reader

I have been mulling this over and over and OVER for like a week now. I’m not sure I can call it fluffy, but I’d like to think it’s a little sweet. As for the “daughter” part, I skimmed it over after writing and it’s not exactly a gender-specific fic, so I apologize for that. 

Still, I hope you enjoy. Thank you so much for your request. @kalosqueen27

~~~~~

            Eyes snap open. Without thinking about it, I slide out of bed and scurry towards the open door.

              It’s the middle of the night and the house is full of frightening darkness. I tiptoe because I don’t know what waits in the shadows, but I’m scared and when I’m scared, only two people can make me feel better.

              The next door creaks as I push it open and hurry inside. I scramble onto the bed and force myself between the still-sleeping grown-ups. Blankets are pulled up over my head while I press as close to Dad as possible. This is where I’m safe; no one is stronger than my dad. Still, even if he is the strongest, the darkness has made the fear that started with nightmares worse.

              I shouldn’t be out of bed and I don’t want to be a crybaby, so I try hard to keep from crying out loud. Dad hums and moves. Jamming a fist against my mouth, I try harder not to make a sound.

              Then a hiccup comes out.

              “Mm? What’s wrong?” he asks sleepily.

              His arms wrap around me. Mom’s still asleep; I’m trying my best to hold it in but it’s getting harder to control. Pulling me off the bed, my dad leaves the room with me. Sniffles are quiet against his shoulder as he takes me into the living room. Even as he sits on the couch, I cling to him.

              “What’s wrong, lion cub? Was it a nightmare?” he asks again. I nod into his shirt and he runs a gentle hand over my back. “It’s okay. You’re safe; I’m here.”

              It takes a while for me to calm down, only sniffling a little now. Dad’s presence has made the fear fade though it still exists.

              “Do you feel better?” he asks. I shrug. “Hmm. Here. Blow your nose.”

              He reaches for a tissue off the side table and I do as he says, loudly.

              “Eww!” he laughs. Cleaning my face, I giggle at his silly reaction. “There’s that goofy smile.” My tongue pokes out at him which he does back. “Feeling better now?”

              “A little,” I mumble.

              “Should we go back to bed?”

              My head shakes. “Uh uh.”

              “No huh,” he hums. “Well…” His eyes catch on the window. “The sky looks clear; do you wanna go for a ride?”

              “A ride?” I blurt out. I know well that every trip with Dad is an adventure, but it’s the middle of the night—it’s dark outside.

              He shushes me with a smile, puts me on the floor, and waves me to follow. Hands over my mouth, I sneak outside after my father.

              With the door closed behind us, Dad walks onto the front yard.

              “Watch this.” He puts his hand out, palm open. Glitter dances around his fingers before a big, shiny key appears from thin air. However, before I can burst with questions, he holds a finger up. The key flies from his hand with a sweep of his arm. It twirls through the air, turning back like a boomerang. A bright light flashes and the key is suddenly no longer a key but a massive vehicle. It looks like a giant bike but without wheels, floating across the yard back to my dad.

              Grinning, Dad says, “Alright, let’s go.”

              “Woah!” I exclaim, racing across the grass to him. “What is that?!”

              “It’s a keyblade glider.”

              “Oooo. Is this what we’re gonna ride?” I ask as he lifts me up.

              Dad sits down on the machine with me right in front of him. “Yes, but don’t tell your mom, ‘kay?” I put a finger to my grinning lips and Dad laughs, “That’s my little lion cub. Hold on tight.”

              The machine rumbles to life. I expect the thing to move forward, but instead, it begins rising. Gasping, I tighten my grip on my seat when I see the ground get far away. An arm slips around my waist and the vehicle turns towards the water.

              My grip never loosens as we fly through the air, especially when we go over the water. I live on an island, but Mom says I’m still not allowed to swim alone. Besides that, it’s so dark down there, like a giant, black monster prepared to swallow us up. This is starting to feel like a bad idea.

              The bike slows to a stop and I expect it to start falling with us on it, but we just float where we are, high above the water.

              “What do you think?” my dad asks.

              I lean back against him. “I wanna go home…”

              His arm tightening around me makes me feel somewhat better, but it’s not enough. “How come?”

              “Scary” is the only word I can mumble, still watching the monster far below.

              “It’s okay; I’ve got you,” he says against my hair.

              “I don’t like the dark.”

              A hand slips under my chin, making me look away from the water. “Then look up.”

              My eyes move to the stars and I’m surprised. I always thought the sky at night was black and dark and kind of frightening—I didn’t know I was wrong. A pretty mix of blue and purple make up the sky as if someone painted it. Tons of tiny lights cover the whole thing, sparkling like little diamonds. A bright, shining moon hangs among the stars with a peaceful glow. It’s amazing.  

              “Woah…” I whisper, sitting up.

              “Pretty, isn’t it,” Dad hums. I nod. “Wanna hear a secret?”

              “What?”

              “Every one of those stars is another world.”

              “Really?”

              “Yep.”

              “How do you know?”

              When he doesn’t answer, I look back. He’s smiling that smile he uses when I see him look at Mom. It’s my favorite smile but I don’t understand why he’s using it.

              “Because I’ve been to them.”

              “Really?! When?! How?! What are they like?!”

              “Woah, slow down. One question at a time.”

              Dad tells me about the other worlds and his adventures on them. He answers all my questions, becoming more amazing than I already believed him to be. He’s strong and brave and he’s gone to other worlds and helped so many people—my dad is the most amazing person. However, as he speaks, I can’t help noticing just how many stars are scattered across the sky. They’re so far away and there’s so many; the universe is really big—and I’m so small.

              Dad notices. “Hey, what’s with the frown?”

              “I wish I could see other worlds.”

              “One day we’ll go see them.”

              I shake my head. “What if something happens? What if the darkness gets me?”

              “Why would the darkness get you?”

              I hate to tell him my next words. “’Cause I’m scared. I’m not brave like you.”

              Dad hums thoughtfully. “Well that’s the thing: you’re not brave because you’re not scared. You’re brave because you keep going even though you’re scared. Everyone gets scared.”

              “But you got to see all the worlds and saved a lot of people.”

              “And I was scared. There are a lot of scary things out there, but there’s a lot of good things out there too. And if you let the scary things keep you from doing anything, then it wins and you don’t get to see the good things.” Dad looks back to the sky. “So even when we’re scared, we can’t let the scary things keep us down. And I know you’re my brave little lion cub.”

              “How do you know?”

              “Because when you had a nightmare, you came to find me instead of being scared all by yourself. And that makes you brave.”

              “Really?” I didn’t feel brave in that moment.

              He nuzzles my cheek with his nose. “Absolutely.”

              A smile tugs at my lips and I look back to all the worlds glittering in the sky. Dad has never lied to me before so it’s not hard to believe he’s gone to see other worlds. Believing that I’m brave like him is another story though. I’m just a little kid; there’s no way I can be brave on my own.

              I look back at him. “Will you go with me? When I go to other worlds?”

              There’s that smile he uses for Mom again. “Of course. I gotta teach you to use the keyblade after all.”

              That settles it: I’ll get out there and see those other worlds someday. They may be far away and I might have to go through some darkness to see them, but I know I can do anything with my dad with me. I trust him no matter what.

              “I can’t wait,” I say.

              Hugging tightly, he makes me safer—braver—than I’ve ever been. “I’ll always be right where you need me, lion cub, no matter how scary things get.” A kiss meets the top of my head. “I love you.”

              “I love you too.”

              Right after those words, a yawn comes out of my mouth.

              Dad chuckles. “Alright, let’s go home and get to bed before your mom finds us missing.”

              The flight back is very different than the flight out. Black water doesn’t seem like such a scary thing anymore and the sky is full of adventures I’ll one day have with my dad. It’s still full of unknown things but I’m not as afraid as I was before.

              The vehicle touches down in the yard, vanishing after we hop off. By now, I’m ready for bed again, almost asleep against Dad’s shoulder.

              The front door slams open. Fully alert, I look to the house where I see Mom.

              “SORA!”

              “Uh oh.”

#sora #kh sora #child!reader #gender neutral reader #novas requests

[deiliamedlini]

WIP Wednesday 1

I’m posting two WIPs today because they’re both currently being absorbed into another fic and will never again see the light of day in this form! So here is the first one!

This BOTW scene, but written in a modern fantasy way is: Link saves Zelda from a Guardian with a pot lid, which is a scene from Zelda’s diary.

Goes along with this other scene that happens a little later with this same Link and Zelda where Link gets assigned to guard Zelda personally.

~~~

“Hrmmm,” Robbie hummed to himself as he looked through Zelda’s notes. “This is interesting, I’ll admit that. But the way I read it, it’s too flawed. Tell me more. Let’s think this through.”

Robbie was the lead researcher on Project Guardian. His posture was perhaps the most telling part of his personality; his hands were always on his hips, straight backed, almost like a superhero. When others would cross their arms to think, Robbie would go straight into his superhero pose and hum loudly to himself.

His goggles held his white hair back from his face. The goggles were a staple of every one of his outfits. He worked more with the large machinery, building prototype after prototype until he was forced onto a break by anyone higher than him, or Purah, who technically matched his position.

Both were young, doctorates before they were even out of their twenties and neither yet nearing thirty. Both Sheikah, ensuring that the artifacts were treated with the respect and reverence that their culture demanded. Both the brightest minds in all of Hyrule.

Zelda felt intimidated near them, but she was learning from the best. So when the Robbie asks you to tell him more, one tells him more.

“Okay, my idea is that we come up with some kind of injectable serum that we place markers in. When the Guardians go to attack the threat, but they see, say, me rather than a Yiga for example, they’ll scan for the presence of that marker and cease to fire on me. Instead, they’ll attack the real enemy.”

“Hrmmmm,” Robbie said, though he’d just read all this in her notes. “Money and funding for such a task aside, how do you propose we go about injecting nearly 30 million people?”

“Mandate it, of course.”

Robbie scoffed, forgetting for a moment that he was speaking with the Princess of Hyrule. If she wanted to mandate the injection, of course she could.

“You will have those who refuse,” he said instead. “Or those too unhealthy or who reject the serum for whatever reason. Perhaps it’s toxic to our first trial participants. Perhaps it won’t work as well on a Sheikah or a Rito as it will on a Hylian. You must also think of some other, faster, more effective ways.”

Zelda sat at the desk, resting her hand on her cheek. “I suppose it could be a type of paint. Something that goes onto a person rather than into them.”

Robbie surpressed a laugh at the Princess’ expense. “Well, perhaps someone forgets their paint? Maybe the weather will wash it off. Or someone cannot afford it. Or runs out. Perhaps the Guardians attack them, and their children. What then?”

“Fine,” Zelda hissed, getting his point but feeling frustrated. It had been such a good idea, she thought. “I don’t know. If only we could set them to auto-pilot, then we could—”

Robbie smiled, knowing where her mind was going before she even got there.

She stopped, her mouth open. “We need pilots. We need a conscious mind to control them. The large ones we excavated… those would be too wild to use without a pilot, even if we theoretically could. A pilot would negate those fears. They’d see friend from foe.”

“How many pilots can we afford to train?”

That had Zelda stop immediately. “I… I don’t know.”

Robbie didn’t expect everything from her. “I don’t think we can have each Guardian with their own pilots. We start with four, one for each of the four larger ones. We take samples, record data, and see if we can synthesize a program for an autopilot. If we can, then I think we should work on incorporating that into the smaller Guardians. Perhaps we can have a lead Guardian each time, and those would have its own pilot, and a string of others will follow?”

“See,” Purah said, looking up from her phone where she’d been taking notes in the corner of the room. “Told you she had a good idea.”

“You did indeed, Princess,” Robbie said with a winning smile. “I’ll get straight to work on it. I’ll draft a proposal and send it to your father immediately so we might be able to recruit the first pilots who will champion this project. I’ll have it in to him by tomorrow.”

“Dr. Robbie,” a researcher said, coming in with a tablet. “You asked for a briefing on the latest trial run?”

Robbie hesitated, not wanting to ignore the presence of the Princess. 

But she read the room. “Don’t worry,” Zelda said, standing up. “We should be going anyway. I look forward to hearing how the proposal goes.”

“I’m sure you’ll know before me, Princess. Good night.”

“Night, Robbie.”

Purah led Zelda out from Robbie’s office, taking the route past the prototype Guardians.

Researchers were mulling around, some in lab coats, some in street clothes, all of them looked busy. And most of them had their eyes on her as she passed by.

“Next time,” Zelda muttered, “we take the quieter route.”

“Understood and agreed. Come on, let’s go to my lab. I can show you the Slate I’ve been working on.”

But they didn’t get the chance.

A deep scream rang out, crying “look out!” to anyone within earshot. Perhaps it was instinct from being in the dangerous lab often, but Purah took a flying leap forward behind one of the pillars that held up the balcony of the second floor, unsure what she was looking out for.

But Zelda didn’t have that reflex.

Instead, her head shot around, looking for the threat so she could hide in the most appropriate location. Was it a Yiga attack? Should she find something to defend herself with? Was it a chemical spill? Did she need to take heed at all if it was simply a broken glass that someone nearly stepped on.

So she didn’t see the red laser aimed in her direction, and worse, she didn’t see the blue beam of energy that followed it.

When she was knocked backwards, she was surprised to find herself on the ground at all, let alone to find someone lying on her, covering her entirely from the blast.

The white sleeve of his lab coat was smoking, burned nearly clean off and exposing singed skin beneath it, fabric melted into his flesh, and hairs on his arm gone. His hand shook, and he dropped a large piece of Sheikah tech that looked far worse than his arm, a hole burned clean through the thick piece of metal that had taken the brunt of the impact off them both, though his arm appeared to have suffered regardless.

When Zelda noticed those two things, her eyes widened, and her heart sped up. “Oh Goddess!” she breathed, her head falling backwards with a harsh thud before she remembered the man on top of her. “Are you okay?”

Her hand went to his chest to help push him up, and she felt something hard under her hand. Something hard that she knew... something like the body armor her guards used. She let her fingers move. Solid, not human flesh; definitely the armor. Her eyes darted immediately to his ear next. And above his blue earring, she saw that her suspicions were confirmed. His ear wasn’t empty, but a very familiar earpiece with a wide hidden by his disheveled hair and low ponytail that had hidden it.

He was not a scientist. He was one of her undercover guards.

“How did you get to me so fast? Where even were you?” she asked, finally understanding why some strange scientist had risked his life to reach her. But she and Purah had been alone on this side of the room. Everyone kept their distance. Everyone stayed out of reach, and he’d been there in an instant.

He stood up, off her almost as quickly as he’d dove in front of her in the first place. “Are you alright, Princess Zelda?” he asked, oozing formality and professionalism, as if he hadn’t just nearly died. He offered her his hand before wincing and retracting it, offering her his other, non-singed one. As if nothing had happened. As if she’d simply tripped.

Now, she was stunned into confusion, trying to put the events in order, to relieve them and understand. She blindly accepted his hand and felt a shockwave of energy pass between them, sending a harsh shiver down her spine that had her attention immediately shift to the man who’d saved her.

He was slightly older than her, though it couldn’t be by much. She was almost surprised her father actually employed any of the younger agents to be her guards. She’d only ever really noticed the older ones. But this man was familiar somehow, though she was sure she’d never seen him in person before today. He could have been her guard in the past, expertly blending in as was his job. But she suspected something more.

His blue eyes were brilliant and captivating. Alert and on her, like he was thinking something about her rather than simply waiting for her to answer him, his eyes were straight out of a crayon box, like the lightest and purest of the blues had been picked for his eyes, one that a child would use for the daylight sky. But the color wasn’t all that was intense about them. It was in the way he looked at her, like she held the answers to the world. His gaze was that intense. It was unnerving.

“Yes,” she finally managed. “I’m fine, thank you.”

He managed a short nod and stepped backwards, allowing her to pass. Purah had grabbed onto Zelda, rambling about how she needed to get checked. But Zelda’s eyes drifted to the burned Sheikah tech on the ground. A hole had gone through the metal. His arm had been burned. And he’d gotten to her in time. 

He was good, apparently. Good at his job. Too good. She’d have to be more alert to the locations of her guards.

“Was he near us?” was all Zelda could ask Purah as they headed out of the building, the other researchers proceeding to clean up the mess.

“I don’t know. Your guards are always near us. But Zelda, are you okay? That could have killed you! That was nearly the end of your life!”

Zelda chuckled nervously, rubbing at her hand, still feeling the agent’s in hers. But what she didn’t realize was that the attack from the Guardian hadn’t nearly been the end of her life, but it was the start of it.

#wip wednesday #legend of zelda #breath of the wild #botw #botw au #link #zelda #purah #robbie #writing

[yespleasefandomtrash]

Catradora Fluff Prompt: Smitten kissing and flirting in bed

tumblr isn't letting me add line breaks rn so I'll make sure to put them in later!! until then I apologize to all scrolling past xx

~*~

It was amazing how long Adora could sleep in. A little annoying, too, as Catra hated being the only one awake in the giant bedroom at Bright Moon, but it wasn’t like she could really hold it against her. Transforming into an eight-foot tall warrior goddess that channelled all of Etheria’s magic out of the heart and back into the world less than a day ago could understandably knock a person out, even if it had been awe-inspiring to witness at the time.

Catra had chosen to remain in bed with her still-slumbering girlfriend. Deep down she knew that while she could have gotten up and gotten dressed and gone downstairs to have breakfast with the princesses and it would have been fine, a part of her was hesitant to face them with the comforting presence of Adora. So, she stayed. Besides - it was amusing to watch Adora sleep. She kept mumbling and kicking out at some dream foe.

It was cuter than Catra would ever admit to her face.

Glimmer had come to check on them, once, as the sun continued to rise higher in the sky. Catra had faked being asleep, but her enhanced hearing still caught the girl humming in contentment and whispering, “Well, they need their rest,” before she left and quietly shut the door behind her.

Perhaps Adora more than herself, Catra mused, but still true.

At one point Catra rolled over onto her side to look at her girlfriend as she slept, and found her face getting red at the mere thought.

Girlfriend. Wow.

She almost couldn’t understand how she’d been so lucky - ‘almost’ being the key word because she knew if Adora was anything she was unconditional. She’d always believed in her, even when Catra was at her lowest point. Not that this knowledge made her feel less lucky, of course. It still didn’t feel real to say that her girlfriend was the legendary She-Ra.

But after eons of telling herself that she hated Adora, couldn’t stand her, blamed her for everything that had gone wrong that in reality she herself had caused, and then to finally admit that all that time she’d loved Adora, she was in love with her, she always had been and always would be, and then to learn Adora loved her, too… It was surreal. She’d already pinched her arm to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

Adora grumbled something in her sleep, flinging her arm out and nearly hitting Catra, which was suffice to say enough to snap Catra out of her awestruck reverie. She hissed instinctively, dropping flat on her back to avoid getting smacked in the face.

Adora’s hand then fell down to her side, and a satisfied smile formed on her sleeping features. Maybe she’d defeated whomever she was dream-fighting.

Catra waited a moment to make sure her girlfriend wouldn’t unconsciously attack her again before returning to her position of resting on her side, bracing her head on her right arm. Adora’s hair had fallen straight across her nose and over her lips, and Catra sighed in amusement as she gently pushed it away.

Adora wrinkled her nose at the touch, and Catra felt the blood rush to her face when she heard her whisper, “Catra…?”

Sleep talk. “Embarrassing,” Catra grumbled to herself, but she still moved closer to Adora’s side, locking their hands together and burying her face in Adora’s shoulder.

This movement seemed to finally wake Adora, which Catra mildly regretted but was mostly relieved to see.

“Mm… Good morning,” she said, giving Catra’s hand a gentle squeeze and smiling at her softly with sleepy eyes.

Catra snorted. “Barely.”

Adora frowned, confusion flickering on her face. “Barely good, or…” She trailed off, yawning. “Or barely morning?”

“Oh, definitely good,” Catra purred into her girlfriend’s shoulder. “But not morning. It’s almost noon.”

Adora groaned and tried to sit up, though Catra threw her free arm over her chest to prevent her from doing so. “Why didn’t anyone wake me up? There’s so much to get done today.”

Catra smirked, lifting her head slightly to better look at her. “Well, you of all people are in desperate need of beauty sleep, so -”

“Oh, shut up,” Adora laughed, grabbing her pillow from behind her head and hitting Catra with it.

Catra’s response was to hiss, mock-glaring at her as she tried to pull away, but in doing so started to fall off the edge of the bed. Adora, considerably more alert than when she’d first woken up, sat up and grabbed her girlfriend’s hand before pulling her back onto the mattress, tugging her into her chest when they were both left sitting upright on the bed.

“Stop falling off of things,” Adora murmured, one hand resting on Catra’s lower back and the other gently stroking her short hair.

Catra’s face had turned a shade darker than scarlet, and she was silently thankful Adora was holding her closely and couldn’t see her blushing. And, well… She liked being close to Adora. “First of all, you’re one to talk about falling off of things,” she grumbled, but there was no bite in her voice. “Besides, I have you to catch me.”

Adora’s body stiffened, her hand pausing on the back of Catra’s head.

Catra leaned back slightly to look up at her. “You okay?”

Adora sighed, moving her hand away to push loose strands of hair out of her face. “Yeah. Just…” She gave her a gentle, if weak, smile. “In shock, I guess?”

‘Shock’ was probably an understatement for the traumatic experiences they’d all endured, but Catra didn’t want to talk about any of it yet. From the looks of it, Adora didn’t want to, either. Catra could tell what Adora was thinking, anyways - what if she hadn’t been there to catch her? What if she hadn’t saved Catra from Horde Prime? What if, what if, what if?

Catra knew her girlfriend was thinking about subjects like that because she herself had been consumed by what if she hadn’t been with Adora to activate the Failsafe and other… distressing thoughts only an hour or so earlier, while Adora had still been asleep.

“Understandable.” Catra took a turn pushing Adora’s hair out of her face and behind her ear, giving her girlfriend a gentle smile that made her feel terrifyingly vulnerable. But with Adora… She didn’t mind. As much, at least. “But we’re here now. Together. It’s over.”

Adora managed a laugh, wiping a stray tear from her eye. “God, shouldn’t I be the one comforting you? At least - at least I’m in a familiar place with people I’ve known for ages and it wasn’t like I was the one chipped by Horde Prime and yet -” Her voice cracked, and her gaze dropped to the space between them. “And yet I’m a mess.” She sighed, wiping her face again. “Sorry. I know I’m just insecure and stupid.”

Catra rolled her eyes, and she lifted Adora’s chin to meet her gaze. “You’re not stupid, Adora. Don’t beat yourself up about this. We’ve both been fighting a war since before we could walk.” Ugh. Now she was feeling weepy. Stupid emotions. “And don’t act like either of us has had it worse or whatever, okay?” They’d always be there to comfort each other, anyways, so long as Catra had anything to say about it.

Adora placed her free hand on top of Catra’s, guiding her girlfriend’s hand up from her chin to cup her face, closing her eyes and leaning into it. “Thank you.”

Catra blushed, and she knew her tail had started flicking faster to keep up with her racing heart. “Yeah. You’re, uh, welcome. Or whatever.”

Her blush deepened as Adora laughed. “Aw. You’re so cute when you’re flustered.” Both of her hands moved to Catra’s waist. “Makes me want to kiss you again.”

There was a pause. Catra was fairly certain her heart stopped beating for a good ten seconds.

Then Adora’s face turned a deep pink, her eyes widening. “I - okay, wow, that was really forward, I’m so sorry. I don’t - I don’t want to rush you into anything you don’t want to do -”

“You can,” Catra interrupted. “Kiss me. Again.”

Adora blinked. “Really?”

Catra rolled her eyes, trying and probably failing to act collected and nonchalant about the matter. “Believe me, I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it.”

Adora hesitated, anxiety flickering in her eyes. Catra seized the moment to take initiative, leaning forward and draping her arms over Adora’s shoulders as she placed an intense kiss on her lips.

Adora hummed in delight - a ridiculously adorable sound - and deepened the kiss, her grip tightening on Catra’s waist to pull her in closer.

Adora’s lips were chapped, and Catra knew her own couldn’t have been much better, but there was something so blissful about kissing her beautiful, badass girlfriend without the threat of the planet’s destruction looming over their heads. Catra wouldn’t have traded this moment for the world.

And when Adora finally pulled away, Catra was mortified to hear herself purring loudly, with her embarrassment only exacerbated by her girlfriend’s knowing smirk. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You were thinking it.”

“Oh please.”

Catra did what she knew best to counter Adora’s teasing - she pounced on her, in true cat-like fashion. Adora burst out laughing and held her arms up to defend herself, and the two wrestled and rolled over and both ended up falling off the side of the bed and onto the floor.

Adora landed on top, her hands on either side of Catra’s shoulders to brace herself and not crush her girlfriend.

Catra’s face had reddened as a result of the… position they’d landed in, but was comforted by the blush painted on Adora’s face, too. Such casual intimacy was not unfamiliar to either of them, but the change in their relationship made everything simultaneously more exciting and more embarrassing.

Catra found herself staring at Adora, soaking in her appearance - her gray tank top and white shorts, her blonde hair falling free around her shoulders. God, she was beautiful. Ethereal, even without the glowing power of She-Ra.

How had Catra gotten so lucky?

Adora gently ran her hand over Catra’s bangs. “I still can’t believe you love me,” she admitted. “I mean, I know you do. But it… still feels too good to be true.”

Catra sat up, Adora moving backwards and off of her to allow them to sit face to face again. “Yeah. It does.” Raised in the Horde, they were both taught that there was nothing a person inherently deserved. Everything had to be earned. And it was hard, maybe even harder for Adora, but it was a mindset they were both gradually unlearning. “But I do. Love you.” She slipped her hands into Adora’s. “A lot.”

Adora smiled, and she leaned forward to press their foreheads together. “I love you, too.” Her smile widened. “A lot.”

Catra was certain of only two things, she decided, one being how much she loved Adora and how much Adora loved her. The other was just as simple. Maybe even more so.

“Everything is going to be okay, isn’t it?”

Adora laughed, and God if it wasn’t the most beautiful sound Catra had ever heard. “Yeah. I think it is.”

~*~

feel free to send me catradora fluff prompts! but as always when it comes to requests, I only write what sparks my interest :) thank you for reading!

#this was soooooo much fun to write #i adore post-canon content #catradora #spop spoilers #kinda #catra #adora #spop catra #spop adora #spop catradora #glimmer #spop glimmer #spop season five #catradora fluff #fanfiction #my writing #im gonna post this on ao3 too i think #and my other fic sites lmao

[bangtan-sonyeonddaeng]

Jackson Scenario| He falls for you even though he doesn’t want to date until his contract ends

The first time Jackson saw you, he was walking into the gym at the same time you were leaving and he almost ran into you. He apologized, giving you a sweet smile which you gladly returned and assured him it was okay. You walked out of the gym in a daze, fully processing the fact that you had literally ran into Jackson Wang, someone you were quite familiar with as you listened to his group’s music for quite some time now. You didn’t react. Just took the small blessing you were given and hoped to maybe see him again.

The second time you two saw each other, it was quite late at night. He wanted to avoid being seen and had gone after midnight. You were the only one at the gym when he arrived, and you were loudly playing your music, and he heard you singing along just as loud.

“Oh when you call my name..” You were singing along to their newest song and even set the weights down and started doing their little hip shimmy they did in the choreography. He laughed and placed his hand over his mouth, not wanting to alert you to his presence. But he found you quite adorable. He snuck into the locker room to change, and by the time he came out you were gone again. Jackson vowed that the next time he saw you he was going to talk to you. 

A week later it was the middle of the night again, but this time he was already there when you walked in. He spotted you and smiled at you, and you smiled back offering a small wave. You went to the locker room to set your stuff down, and splash some cold water on your face to settle your nerves.

“It’s alright y/n. It’s just Jackson. He’s friendly, harmless. He doesn’t know you’re a fan just breathe.” You gave yourself a pep talk before walking out of the room and into the gym to lift. Jackson had been jogging on the treadmill, away from where the weights were which you were thankful for. 

He was watching you put the weights on the barbell. There’s no way. He thought to himself as he saw how much weight you were putting on there. When you lifted it his jaw hit the floor, and whoops so did he. He was so distracted he lost his footing on the treadmill and fell right off. You immediately dropped the weight and ran over to him. 

“Oh my god are you okay?!” Jackson rolls onto his stomach and hides his face in his arms and groans loudly. He mumbles something but you can’t make out what he had said.

“What did you say? Are you really okay should I call an ambulance?” He lifts his head up and looks quite dejected.

“Only thing that is hurt is my pride. Just leave me here on the floor to suffer in silence please.” His head flops back down and he feels you gently pat him on the back. 

“Hey, there there. It’s okay. It’s happened to all of us at some point.” He rolls over onto his back and looks up at you. He takes in your features and he scolds himself for not realizing just how beautiful you were before. 

“You’ve made an idiot of yourself in front of a gorgeous person and fallen off a treadmill too because you were too distracted by them?” Your mouth hangs open in surprise for a moment but you quickly shut it and collect yourself.

“Uh not quite no. But I did fall off an elliptical once because I was jamming too hard to a song I liked. Tried to do the choreography and completely forgot I was on a piece of exercise equipment and fell right off in front of a ton of people. I cancelled my membership the next day. I was too embarrassed to go back. That’s why I come to this gym now.” Jackson looks at you for a moment before he bursts out laughing. You’ve always loved the sound of his laugh and can’t help but join him. If anyone walked in right now they would find the sight quite silly. Him laying on his back staring up at the ceiling shaking with laughter as you are sat on the floor doing the same.

“What’s your name by the way?”

“It’s y/n.”  He sits up and holds his hand out to you.

“Well it’s nice to meet you.”

“Don’t I get to know your name too?”

“You’re really going to pretend like you don’t know who I am when you were humming Just Right  when you walked in here?” Your face turns bright red. You did have a habit of singing and humming songs without realizing it. “And plus I saw your little dance you did to our new song the other day.” You hide your face in your hands. 

“I am so sorry! I am so incredibly embarrassed. I swear I won’t tell anyone you come here and I won't tell anyone we met either.” 

“Hey don’t be! I actually thought it was really cute. And I trust you. If you were going to say something you would have already.” You drop your hands away from your face.

“You think I’m cute?”

“I mean yeah. I told you that I thought you were gorgeous a little bit ago, remember?” You’re blushing now which just makes him fawn over you even more. “So this may be a little sudden or may seem odd to you but.. I’d really like to be take you on a date? You seem really funny and sweet and trustworthy and those are all things that are really important to me.” You stare at him incredulously.

“You really want to go out with me?”

“Of course I do.”

“Okay but, you’ve always said you didn’t want to date until your contract is over? What happened to that?” Jackson pulls out his phone and pretends to dial it. 

“Hello! JYP! Yes this is Jackson Wang. I am hereby cancelling my contract so I can take this wonderful person out on a date... Okay? Great! Glad we’ve reached an understanding.” He slips the phone back in his pocket and you giggle at his antics. “See? Problem solved. No more contract.” 

“Okay I know you didn’t really just cancel your contract so I am going to ask you again, are you sure? I don’t want to be the cause of a scandal for you or anything.”

“I am willing to make an exception to my rule for you. I won’t get in trouble if that’s what you’re worried about. We’re allowed to date, I just wanted to focus on my career but, well now I think I’ve found something else I want to focus on too.” He takes your hand and kisses the back of it, eyes shining with anticipation. 

“Alright. I’ll go out on a date with you. One date! Just to see how it goes.” Jackson pumps his fist into the air and shouts happily.

“Okay! I’ll pick you up uh, well when are you free?”

“I am free this weekend.”

“Perfect! Saturday then? At say around 6:00?”

“That sounds perfect. Text me the details then later?” You hand him your phone so he can put his number in and he does the same for you. 

“I should probably get going now. It’s getting pretty late.” 

“Yeah same here. I’ll see you Saturday then?”

“Of course. I’ll see you.” You press a kiss to his cheek and head to the locker to grab your bag. When you exit the locker room Jackson is still frozen in place with his hand on his cheek over the spot where you kissed him. You chuckle and breeze past him and head out the door. Only to hear another shout. You turn around and see him dancing inside the gym and you burst out laughing. You can’t wait for Saturday and see what he has in store for you. 

#got7 reaction #got7 reactions #got7 scenario #got7 scenarios #Got7 imagine #got7 imagines #got7 #Jackson wang #Jackson x reader #reader x jackson #Jackson scenario #Jackson imagine #Jackson reaction

[libsterslobsters]

Since I've Been Loving You...

Part four of The Song Remains the Same series

Summary: The Reader hadn't had many friends in her lifetime before a chance encounter in Romania brought Bucky Barnes into her life. That's all he is. Just a friend... that she may be slowly falling for. As for Bucky, dating may have changed since the 1940s, but he's pretty sure that's what he and the Reader have been doing for the past four months, and he assumes she's on the same page.. When a night in results in deep fears revealed, both parties involved learn more about themselves and each other than they bargained for.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem! enhanced! Reader

(Reader can see little bits of the future and understands every language)

Warnings: language, mild angst, slow burn (See fic "Communication Breakdown" on my page for resolution), mentions of minor character death, fluff, misunderstandings

Author's note: In this ficlet series, I've referenced the one time Bucky and the reader caught a mouse in her apartment multiple times, so I figured I'd better go ahead and write it 😉. As always, the reader is unnamed, but since these characters live in my head rent free, I call her Violet Aimes.

*************************************************

The radio is on full blast as she dances around her apartment, rearranging a cabinet here, brushing away a cobweb there. Despite the fact that the season is months away, she’s set about the task of Spring Cleaning… in the middle of Autumn.

Since she lives on her own, she rarely has the motivation to clean her apartment. She keeps it functional and hygienic, but other than that, she usually doesn’t do much. That is, until recently, when the most extraordinary thing has happened: she’s made a friend.

As a child, a huge premium is put on your ability to make people’s aquaintances. Every time you go anywhere knew, you’re asked, “Did you make any friends today?” As an adult, friends are seen as nice, but not a priority. That is, unless they can help you get ahead. Since she rarely lets anyone get close to her (it’s too damn dangerous when you see the future, not to mention speak every language automatically, and because of that, the U.S. government would very much like to get it’s hands on you), her list of friends in adulthood has remained quite short. But, it turns out what they say is true: it’s not the quantity that counts, but the quality, and Bucky Barnes is indeed a quality friend to have. He’s kind, he’s loyal, brave, and- she shakes her head- attractive, yes. He’d make someone someday a fine partner. Not her, of course. If there was ever a chance that something like that could happen between them, experience has shown her that once someone learns her secret, they immediately decide it’s best to keep their distance romantically. What was the phrase she heard a while back? Don’t stick your dick in crazy? Well, she can’t blame anyone for thinking that way, dick sticking or not, because while she’ s not crazy, her life definitely is.

Pushing all of those thoughts to the side, she grabs her broom and begins to sweep her kitchen. It’s a small space. In fact, she can only walk three paces in either direction. Still, by the time she’s finished, she has a respectable pile of trash at her feet waiting for the dustpan. Only three more rooms to go in… she glances down at her phone… forty-five minutes. Yikes. Well, if she’s going to spend the afternoon cleaning, she needs an appropriate album to listen to.

Thank goodness for streaming services, because although she has a hefty CD collection (it’s no longer the ‘cool’ way to enjoy music, but what can she say, a girl’s gotta have hobbies), if she started looking through it, she’d be here all day, trying to make a damn decision. So, instead she searches for the first thing that comes to mind: Amy Grant, Heart In Motion. It’s cheesy, but it’s bright and poppy. A perfect combination for getting her though the arduous task of cleaning. So, duster in hand, she slips her earbuds in and, once again, gets to the task at hand.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Bucky’s a few minutes early, so he’s not expecting the door to be open, or even for her to be home. In hindsight, he should’ve texted and asked if it was okay, him showing up before the agreed time, but he didn’t think of it, and now that he’s in her building, well… he’ll just hang around in the hallway until it’s closer to five o’clock.

Not for the first time in the past three months, he thinks to himself that he has absolutely no idea what the protocal is for dating these days. He’s read multiple articles (Reddit is a wellspring of information that he wasn’t necessarily looking for, but there it was) and watched several Youtube videos, but one person seems to contradict another. Wait twenty-four hours after a date to call, no don’t do that, it makes her nervous, but if you call before then, you’ll scare her off with your desperation. Let her determine who makes the first move, but don’t be afraid to take control. Go with casual dates, but make them special. All in all, he can’t help thinking this was much simpler seventy years ago when there were basically three choices on what you’d do on any given night: the movie theater, a diner, or dancing. Maybe a combination of the three, and if you were lucky, possibly parking afterwards. Now… good grief. The best he can figure is to just go with his gut. In essence, get to know her, enjoy their time together. Other than that… well, he’s still figuring it out. So far, things are going slowly, and he’s okay with that. It’s really nice, actually. No pressure for either of them.

He’s still emmersed in his thoughts when he steps out of the elevator and onto the sixth floor. It’s always vaguely noisy. The walls are thin ( the building was constructed before the collapse of the Soviet Union, which he only recently learned about), and there’s several couples cohabiting on this floor who… well, frankly, he’s surprised the ones next door to her haven’t killed each other yet. However, as he gets nearer to the door, one sound grabs his attention. That of someone singing. Singing loudly, and completely off-key. He’s heard some tone-deaf people before, but wow. This is bad.

He’s just outside her door when realization dawns on him. The singer (who is either blissfully unaware of how bad they sound, or simply does not care) is her. He stifles a laugh. The voice is so comically mismatched with the girl he’s come to have quite the crush on. But hey, at least she’s having fun, if the sheer enthusiasm is anything to judge from. In fact, he kind of hates to break up the impromptu concert (although the neighbors might thank him), but he should let her know he’s here.

Thirty seconds after he shoots a quick text in her direction, there’s still no reply, and the singing hasn’t stopped. She’s just moved on to a new song. Phone’s on silent, then. Alright knocking. Just as he raises his hand to do so, his phone dings. “Come on up! It’s open!” Clearly she didn’t take, “I’m here” to mean “I’m right here, ten feet away from where you’re more than likely standing.” Alright then, since he has permission…

He can see straight through the kitchen and living room into her bedroom from the front door, so he usually averts his eyes (everyone deserves some privacy, after all), but today, before he can manage that feat, he catches sight of… is she dancing? It’s not a fox trot, that’s for sure… and is that a feather duster? None of that matters, because, still oblivious that he’s done exactly what she suggested and let himself in, she starts belting out the next verse.

“Classic case of boy meets girl, moving in the same direction.” Oh, now he can see. Her headphones are in. That explains it. “You’re not asking for the world; I’m not asking for perfection.” What’s the best way to go about alerting a person that involved in what they’re doing to your presence without making them jump out of their skin?

“Just a love that’s well designed for passing the test of time-” Knocking is always a classic. Maybe, since he’s closer this time, she’ll hear him. “I’m here to tell you, I’m here to stay. Every hour, every day.” Here it goes.

The good part is, his knocking does get her attention. The bad news-

“Holy fucking-” She jumps, startled, and if her earphones weren’t in, her phone would fall to the floor. “Dammit, Barnes!”

He tries hard, but he’s not entirely certain he’s convincingly covered his laugh with a cough.

“Laugh it up, fuzzball.” She’s trying to seem annoyed, but her own smile gives her away.

“Star Wars, right?”

“Good to know your memory still works. Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to sneak up on people?”

“You told me to let myself in.” Her forehead wrinkles.

“Yeah, but that was when I thought “here” meant “down the street, so you don’t have to stop singing for another two minutes.” She pushes a few escaped hairs back from her forehead. “Are your ears okay? I usually save the live music for when no one else is around.”

He chuckles. “Somehow, I think I’ll make a full recovery.”

“Thank goodness.” Stowing the feather duster, she pushes past him out of the door. “I hope my fine vocal performance haven’t put you completely off, because tonight’s selection is a musical.” Huh. It’s been a while since he watched one of those. Well, apart from whichever Disney flick they’ve caught up on recently (they never watch anything too intense; he still hasn’t figured out if it’s out of concern for his well being or because that’s what she prefers, and he hasn’t worked up the nerve to ask).

He must stay silent for too long, because, cheeks slightly flushed, she explains-

“Don’t knock it just yet. This one’s a classic. Plus, it takes place sometime you’re already familiar with, so you can tell me if there’s any historical inaccuracies.”

“Wait-” He crosses his arms. “-is that an old man joke? Because if it is, I’m gonna have to start on how I woke up only to find out music has been completely ruined by the kids these days.” That’s it. Her smile is back, embarassment erased.

“We’re just gonna have to agree to disagree on that one.” Settling into place on the couch, she boots up her laptop. “Now sit down and watch Singin’ in the Rain with me. It’s the least you could do after taking five years off my life by sneaking around.”

He snickers and with a nod, sits next to her.

___________________________________________________________________________________

“Here’s a historical inaccuracy for you.” She was sort of joking about that part, but it seems like he’s taken it to heart and is good-naturedly pointing out everything Hollywood got wrong about the 1920s. “Hemlines were NOT that short back then. At least, not where I was from.”

“What?” She pretends to be shocked (although truthfully, she is a little). “Don’t tell me the roaring twenties weren’t as wild as The Great Gatsby would have us believe!”

His forehead wrinkles. “I think I read that one. Didn’t think much of it.”

“Don’t tell anyone, but neither did I.” She was bored to death and hated pretty much every single character, but that’s not what’s most important right now. “How long were the dresses back then if they weren’t Debby Reynolds short?”

He seems to think about it a moment, then- “Around here, if I’m remembering right.” His hand brushes just above her knee. “That’s about as wild as it got in our part of Brooklyn, and even that was just the flappers. Of course, my Ma had them all the way down to her ankles until I was grown.” They’ve never spoken about their parents before. She appreciates the trust he’s putting in her, bringing up the distant past. Still, she hesitates before returning the gesture.

“My Mom and I didn’t have a great relationship. She was a little-” She makes a vague motion. “-not all there. She told me that my Dad came from outer space, if you can believe that.” Now that she thinks about it, that’s probably not the weirdest thing she’s ever heard, even if she doubts it’s true. “Anyway, she died when I was sixteen.”

“I’m sorry.” His hand closes over hers, and she forgets how to breath. “Do you have any other family?”

“No.” She shakes her head, attempting to laugh it off. “Just me.”

They’re silent for a few minutes, and she’s about to make a joke to lighten the mood, when-

“I had a sister. Rebecca.” He sighs. “She’s dead now. Looked it up. I thought about looking up her kids, but it’s probably better if I didn’t.”

In a sudden moment of boldness, she gives his hand a squeeze. “Maybe one day, when things aren’t as complicated.”

“Yeah.” He nods. “Maybe one day.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

Despite his opinions of what music has become since he was young (and the fact that this movie really is full of historical innacuracies, but then again, he was under the age of ten when all of this was happening, so his view of the world might’ve been on the narrow side), Bucky can’t help but enjoy it. The male lead has a serious set of pipes. It kind of reminds him of Frank Sinatra. Plus, it’s bright and light and funny. Most of all, it makes her smile.

Around the halfway point, they hit pause to make some popcorn (“Not like the movie theaters, because I’m cheap, but we can doctor it.” ; he didn’t have the heart to tell her it’s been so long since the last time he had popcorn, she probably could’ve offered him packing peanuts to munch on and he wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference), but now they’re back on the couch, the bowl resting somewhere between them. He’s not sure when or how it happened exactly, but at some point, they both migrated so far towards the middle of the sofa that now she’s leaning against him, pressed against his shoulder, and his arm is draped over the back of the couch. It’s nice. If only he could work up the nerve to kiss her.

They’re both laughing just a little too loudly over the scene where the voiceover goes out of sync with the picture part of the movie when a flurry of motion catches his eye. He turns his head to get a better look, and it’s just in time to see a mouse run directly over both of their feet.

“What the-” Her eyes go wide as she sees the creature and registers what it is.

“I think you might have a roommate.”

In a flash, she’s pulled her legs onto the couch, knocking the bowl of popcorn onto the floor. “Oh god! Please tell me that wasn’t what I thought it was.”

“It wasn’t. Unless you thought it was a mouse.” She shudders.

“Bucky, I really don’t like mice.” Considering he found one in his pipes a few months ago, he’s not the biggest fan either.

“I’m not too fond of them myself.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “No, I mean, I really don’t like them. As in, I’m irrationally afraid of them.” Wait-

“You’re afraid of-” She nods, and he feels bad for it, but he has to stifle a laugh. “Doll, you realize they’re a lot smaller than you are.” He immediately regrets the pet name, but she doesn’t react.

“So are atoms. Split one and you’ve got an atomic bomb.” She’s got a point, but still…

“They won’t hurt you. Most of them are pretty shy-”

“The one I woke up to eating my hair when I was a kid wasn’t.” Well, now it makes more since.

“Maybe we can find some traps tomorrow-”

“No. I need it out of my apartment. Tonight.” Tonight… just to refresh his memory, he glances out the window. Uh-huh. Just as he thought. It’s pitch black, and he doubts it’s gotten any warmer since his arrival two hours ago. “I’ll catch it somehow. I just can’t sleep knowing it’s there.”

He starts to tell her that she’ll have better luck winning the lottery without a ticket than catching that rodent, but as he peers down at her face, he sees that she’s gone a shade paler and her eyes are wide. She really is terrified of this… mouse. Alright. Decision made.

“Okay.” Careful to avoid grinding the popcorn into the truly ugly shag carpetting covering the living room, he stands. “Can you tell me where to find a broom? Maybe a spare rag if you have it?”

“Broom’s behind the door. Wash rags are under the sink.” He’s already bent over, searching for the objects in quesiton when she asks, “What are you planning to do?” That assumes he has a plan rather than just a random guess.

“Go poking around. Check behind the fridge, in the cabinets. They like to hide out where they won’t be seen.”

“You don’t have to-” She stops short as he straightens, dish rag in hand. “-but if you do, I owe you big time.”

“Tell me the next time you have a vision of me forgetting to take the clothes out of the washer and put them in the dryer, and we’ll call it even.”

Despite his best efforts, the kitchen and bathroom lend no results. He’s really hoping to avoid poking around her bedroom (that still seems a little too personal, especially since mice like to hide in places like underwear drawers), so that leaves….

It’s completely thoughtless, him pulling the couch out from the wall while she’s still sitting there. It doesn’t strike him as odd until she says,

“You could’ve asked me to get up, you know.”

“No need.” Looks like they’re in luck. “There’s your roommate.” Wrong thing to say, because she shoots off the couch like it’s on fire and, without her feet so much as touching the ground, jumps on top of the coffee table.

“Shit! It was under there the entire time?”

“Looks that way. There’s a hole in the wall, so-” He raises the broom, but before he can bring it down-

“No! Don’t kill it!” What the- He glances at the woman still standing on the coffee table. “It has as much right to live as we do. Just wanted to get out of the cold.” Okay, but-

“What do you want to do with it then?”

She grimaces.

“Just… can you get rid of it?” Can he… oh boy. But, he’s not about to say no. That is until he realizes-

“I could if it were still here.”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.” He couldn’t have put it better himself. “Okay, um.” She frowns, then with a sigh, squeezes her eyes shut.

“What are you-”

“Sometimes I can see something if I’m not paying attention to anything else.” A few seconds pass, and then she cringes. “Ew! Okay, bottom cabinet, right hand side in the kitchen. I’m gonna have to rewash all of those dishes.” Good enough.

Now that his mission is to catch and carry instead of kill the furry fiend, he moves more quietly, grabbing the now-empty popcorn bowl from the floor as an afterthought. He really hopes that this vision isn’t too far in the future, because although it’s preferable to the way he’s spent a lot of his time in the past seventy years, he’d rather not crouch by a cabinet for the rest of the night. He’ll do it, but if there’s another option…. Pulling open the door as slowly as he can, he catches sight of it. Hope she wasn’t too attached to that box of cornflakes, because Mickey here has helped himself. If he can just get his hand in… the mouse registers that he’s got company and starts to dart out of the way, but this time, Bucky’s prepared for it and catches it between the towel and the bowl.

“Got him!” She cheers from her place on the table, but still takes a step back when he comes nearer.

“Thank god!”

“Never been called that before.” She rolls her eyes, but chuckles.

“Thank you, Buck. Now can we get him the fuck out of here?”

“Sure, but where exactly?” He’s not opposed to letting Mickey Mouse loose in the hallway so he can go bug the neighbors, but then Mr. Mouse might make his way back here, and this seems like the kind of adventure you only have once.

“Um-” She starts to climb down, but hesitates. “Are you sure you’ve got him?”

“I’m sure.” It physically hurts him not to laugh.

“Then out in the courtyard, do you think?” She jumps from the coffee table and picks up her coat, pulling it on.

“That’ll work.” He starts towards the door.

“Don’t you want your coat? I can drape it over your shoulders?”

“Nah, I’ll be alright.” He’s about to mention she doesn’t have to come with him, but before he can, she’s by his side, one arm hesitantly wrapped around his back.

“I’ll stay close then. Can’t have you freezing to death on a mission of mercy.”

As luck would have it, everyone else is already tucked away this time of night, so they have the elevator and the dingy lobby all to themselves. Still walking side by side, she pushes open the door and they step through.

“Just set him down, or-”

“No. Let’s go to the bushes. Give him some quick and easy cover so he won’t be too cold.” Shaking his head, he makes his way towards the shrubbery. Him and his human coat.

“This seem like a good place for a mouse house?” Chuckling, she nods. “Alright then, little man. You’re officially being evicted.” As soon as he releases the mouse, she jumps back with a yelp, still grasping his arm.

“Sorry!” It’s a lost cause. He can’t hold it back. At long last he lets out the laugh he was holding back.

“I’m sorry, Doll-” Why does it feel so natural to call her that? He’ll think about it later, but right now he needs to do damage control. Even when he was coming up, it was rude to laugh at a person.

But, if she’s offended, it doesn’t show, and instead she beams at him.

“Is that the stupidest thing you’ve ever done or what?” It’s one of the strangest, but he’s been known to do stupid things, especially if it’s someone he… oh. Oh. Well, that’s not one he was ever expecting to say again. But it’s true. Somehow, although it’s under the most unlikely of circumstances, he has come to love this woman. More than that, he’s pretty sure he’s starting to fall-

“I’ll take the stunned silence as a yes.” It’s a joke and it snaps him out of his revelry. He loves her, but now’s not the time to say it. For now-

“No, Doll.” Taking her hand, he begins to walk back towards the building. “Not even close.”

#marvel #captain america #the winter soldier #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky barnes #bucky barns x y/n #bucky x reader #fanfiction #bucky fanfic #fluff

[asphalt-cocktail]

For the Sake of Content- Chapter 4

Chapter 4: It’s an Experience

Summary: After walking in on your long-term boyfriend, Harrison, cheating on you and then losing your job the following day; your find yourself broke, jobless, and single for the first time in a long while. In order to make ends meet, your best friend since college, Freddie, suggests you start soliciting explicit photos of yourself, not only to help boost your confidence but to help pay the rent for his band mate’s apartment you just moved into.

A/N: I am loving all of the asks about FSC that I have been getting! I’m so happy that everyone is enjoying it so far because I’m having a lot of fun writing it! This chapter features some exciting stuff and fun interactions between Freddie, Roger, and Reader! So I hope you all enjoy it! I love all of the reblogs, comments, likes, and asks I’ve been getting so keep them coming!

Pairing: Roger Taylor x F!Reader

Warnings: Language, mentions of sex work, masturbation, sexual tension, some friendly banter between roger and reader, really corny dirty talk, it makes sense when you read it, not proof read.

Word Count: 2.7k

18+ if you are a minor do NOT interact with this post. This is fictitious content and I own nothing.

You felt out of place to say the least, you most certainly did not like meeting new people, but the cheap vodka and sprite in your solo cup had helped ease your nerves. You were introduced to Brian the guitarist who insisted he knew more than just Wonderwall, John the bassist who was quiet, but you found that he was the perfect counter to Freddie’s eccentric attitude.

Right now, you parked yourself at the bar next to John’s girlfriend, Veronica, she was nice and promised you that their show was going to be worth leaving your house. You sure hoped it was, you thought as you drank beer after beer to help the time pass. It apparently worked because before you knew it the MC was announcing their band, Queen.

They were loud.

That was the first thought that crossed your mind and the next thought? Freddie’s charisma was off the charts. You knew he was quite the charming person and could sell honey to a bee, but this was otherworldly. Despite the bar being filled with roughly 200 people it felt as though this were your own personal show and Roger? Well the interaction between Freddie and Roger wonderfully showcased their friendship. The moment Freddie turned around and stood in front of Roger and his set, the wider his grin got and the harder he beat his drums.

It was an experience, you couldn’t help but tap your toes and bob your head to the music. Your face felt hot and a tense feeling settled in your stomach, Roger looked hot. You hated to admit it, but the fiery look in his eyes was simply hypnotic and his tastefully messy hair clumped together at the base of his neck with sweat caused you to clench your thighs together. The way he moved his arms seemed almost automatic and on particularly intense songs he would throw his head back and spit before facing the crowd once more with furrowed brows.

It was an experience to say the least and the experience would continue to the after party. You soon found yourself swept away by Freddie and co. to the night club your college friend frequented. The music pounded so loudly you could feel it in your chest and the alcohol warmed your body while you swayed to the rhythmic beats, laughing with Freddie while the two of you danced.

“How is living with Roger?” Freddie asked, sipping his strong vodka-cran through a tiny straw.

You pursed your lips “Well, he never does dishes and eats all my food.” You frowned, thinking about how you always caught him rummaging through your designated cupboard of snacks.

Fred shrugged, “Yeah, he does that; which is why you have to buy Roger snacks and you snacks.” He noted the look of disbelief on your face, “That’s what I had to do when we lived together. It’s even worse when he has a girl there for weeks at a time.” Fred rolled his eyes remembering the afternoons Roger’s most recent flavor would rummage through his cupboards.

“Roger actually hasn’t had anyone over since I’ve moved in.” You pointed out, “I think he’s all just talk,” You said turning around, locking eyes with Roger who was sulking at the bar.

Freddie smirked and nudged you, “Aw, look at the poor boy, go buy him a couple shots so he can loosen up!” Fred shoved you in Roger’s general direction.

“Fine, fine,” You frowned and walked up to Roger reaching out and grabbing his arm “Why the long face, Roomie!” You said wrapping your fingers around his wrist, “Come on, I’ll buy you a shot to help ya loosen up.” You leaned on the bar, waving down the bartender and ordered a round of lemon drops.

Roger couldn’t help but break into a small smile, “I am loosened up.” He protested, still taking the shot from you and downing it.

You rolled your eyes dramatically, “Is that why you’re over here brooding?” You asked, arching your brow and taking your shot. You tugged on Roger’s arm playfully, “Need a wingman? I can help you.” you said shooting him a wink.

Roger let out a soft laugh and shook his head, “No, that’s fine. Brian swooped in on the girl I was eyeing up anyways.” He said reaching his free arm under the collar of his loose button down to scratch his collar bone.

“Then dance with me!” You grinned and before he had a chance to protest you were already tugging him onto the packed dance floor, the loud music drowning out whatever answer he may have given you.”

Your bodies were pressed together without any effort due to the crowd on the dance floor and you put Roger’s hands on your waist, turning to face him “Come on, Rog, dance!” You pressed, grinning and placing your hands flat against his chest.

Roger grinned back down at you, “You know, you’re a lot less boring when you’re drunk.” He mumbled as he began to sway to the music playing in the background.

The flashing lights blinked in tune with the music and you found yourself frowning “I’m not boring!” You protested.

Roger flashed you a teasingly skeptical look before you turned around and moved your hips, purposefully pressing them against his crotch. Roger’s breath hitched in the back of his throat as he looked down at you, bent down in front of him with his hands on your hips while you were wantonly grinding against him. Perhaps you weren’t that boring after all.

You leaned your back against Roger’s chest and sighed when you felt his hands rubbing up and down your sides. You reached one of your hands back and placed it on the side of his neck, burying it into his soft locks and nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck. You felt him shudder against you when you scratched your finger nails against the his skin and smirked, “You look good when you drum.” You murmured into his ear, your lips dancing dangerously close to the sweaty skin on his neck.

A laugh rumbled from Roger’s chest, “Yeah?” He responded back, his mind distracted by your hips grinding against him, “I could see you eye fucking me from across the bar.” He responded, his hand dancing dangerously close to the band of the leather skirt Fred made you wear.

You turned back around to face him, Roger’s hands rested on your ass, cupping it, “Was I?” You asked skeptically. Roger pushed your hips closer against the now present lump in his pants and you lightly jumped at the feeling “That better be your wallet, Taylor.” You stated, quirking your head towards him.

Roger hummed in response, keeping you pulled tightly against him, “Bar closes soon, we were going to catch an uber-” Fred came up, putting his head between the two of you, “Oof, make sure to leave room for Jesus, you two.” He mumbled motioning to the obvious lack of space between your bodies.

You both sprang apart at his sudden presence, “You aren’t going to fuck… are you?” Freddie asked arching his brow and glancing from you to Roger who held his hands crossed over his lap.

You both shook your heads no.

“Never.”“Course not.”You both answered at the same time before shooting the other an annoyed glance.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Fred mumbled under his breath, “Anyways, we are catching rides out of here before the fare skyrockets at bar close, you lot down to split a lift?” You nodded your head, whatever it took to save money you were more than open to.

Unfortunately, the rideshare algorithm had other plans when a four-seater car came to drive the six of you home. Naturally you and Roger backed out “We’ll just split a lyft home, we are going to the same place anyways.” You mumbled waving an apprehensive Freddie goodbye as he rode off with Brian, John, and Veronica.

You leaned on the wall of the bar while Roger arranged for the ride home. A cloud of residual sexual tension hung over the two of you and continued to fog your mind while you watched Roger load into your ride share. You let out a puff of air and climbed in the back after him; instinctively Roger’s arm reached out and wrapped around your waist and pulled you flush against him.

You sighed against his touch and leaned your head on his chest, what the fuck were you even doing? To be honest, you didn’t even know yourself, you just knew that alcohol pumped through you veins with each pulsing beat of your heart and laying against Roger felt nice. The two of you laid in silence with Roger drumming absent minded beats against your shoulder.

The sudden stop of motion alerted you to your arrival. You sat up from Roger and tapped his chest, he sleepily looked at you and a soft ‘huh?’ bubbled from his chest. He’d fallen asleep during your short ride back to the apartment. “Come on, Rog, we’re home.” Home the word felt foreign falling from your lips, but you liked the feel of it.

Roger let out a soft sigh and rubbed his hands against his face, “Right,” He mumbled shuffling out after you and fumbled with his keys at the front door before finally opening it.

The two of you sat and stared at each other for a moment before Roger tore his eyes away from you and gave you a awkward wave “Night,” He said immediately shutting himself in the bedroom.

You stood in the hallway and shifted, feeling exposed due to the situation at hand before you went to bed and soon found yourself drifting off to an incredibly unsatisfactory night of sleep.

When you awoke the following morning the dull ache between your legs reminded you of the sexually charged dancing that happened the night before andRoger leaving the both of you high and dry in the hall way. You frowned, rolling over and checking your phone for the time, it was almost 1 and Roger should have already left to open the shop for the day, but given the amount of alcohol consumed and how much of a baby he was with hangover’s you couldn’t promise he was actually gone.

You were thankful your head didn’t hurt from the alcohol you consumed the previous night, but still felt gross from the layer of beer induced sweat that had seeped through your skin as you slept. So, you gathered your things and went to the bathroom to prepare for a hot shower.

Afterwards you dressed, began your live stream, and grinned seeing your regulars popping into the chat room. “Hi everyone!” You greeted in your sensually disguised voice, “I don’t know if you saw in my previous stream, but I’ve been uploading content on my snapchat, you can buy a monthly subscription for $15 or a lifetime membership for $65 and get daily content…” You continued with your typical intro and sales pitch.

Tank3939: Second stream so soon?

You read the comment and couldn’t help but smile, “Yeah, I guess I couldn’t help myself, I missed you guys so much.” You sighed out, “Let’s get this show going, shall we? For every 100 tokens I reach I’ll take off a piece of clothing.” Your ever-growing audience couldn’t see the small smirk that graced your features.

Tank3939 tipped you 50 tokens!

“Thank you, Tank! We’re halfway there” they could hear the grin in your voice as you spoke.

You let out a content sigh and rubbed your hands over the swell of your breasts, rubbing your nipples through your bra and shirt. You ached for some sort of attention.

Tank3939: what did you do yesterday, sugar?

Right, you were supposed to be interacting with your people.

“Well, I went out to the bar and we decided to call it a night, nothing as exciting as talking to you all.” You said, pinching your nipples through your shirt.

Bigboy64 tipped you 50 tokens!

The donation ping alerted you and you smirked to yourself, “All right folks, we have reached the first goal for the night” You sat up a little straighter, “Big boy, since your donation made us reach the first 100, you get to pick what I take off.”

Bigboy64: shirt, lets see those tits of urs

You nodded to yourself, and hooked your hands under your shirt, allowing it to teasingly shift up the dip in your hips and expose your tummy before you finally pulled it over your shoulders. Your breasts lifted with the shirt and bounced while still encased in your bra; once you were freed from the confines of your shirt and you shivered from the sudden cold that nipped at your skin.

Tank3939: beautiful

Bigboy64: nice tits

Mojo_Man has tipped 100 tokens!

You took a moment to rub your hands along your sides, sighing at the sensual touches you were giving yourself, “Wow, reached the next goal so quickly, Mojo what do you want me to take off next?” You asked using your arms to pop your chest out.

Mojo_Man: Pants?

That was unexpected, you thought, but stood up shimmying out of your sweatpants and flashing off your lacy black panties. You turned around, lightly moving and making your ass bounce for the audience’s entertainment and turned back around sitting on the floor.

Within the next few minutes you were totally bare, leaning back ever so slightly with your knees up and spread giving the camera a full image of your wet cunt. You dipped your fingers between them, and your hips bucked, you couldn’t help but think of Roger sleeping in the room next to you and how his thick calloused fingers would feel against you, fulling you up. “How about we up the stakes?” You asked.

Several messaged pinged in, inquiring you to elaborate your idea, “Who ever gifts me the most tokens tonight will get a private show, by yours truly.” You teased and kneaded your breast in one hand while the other circled your clit for the camera.

You reached over, grabbing a vibrator you had set out earlier and turned it on low, pressing it against your swollen clit. Your hips twitched and you let out a soft moan, moving your hips against the silicon vibrator. The ding of donations panged against your ear drums, each causing a pornographic moan to escape your lips, you hoped it wasn’t loud enough for Roger to hear and that he was actually gone to work, but at this point you didn’t know if you cared.

Your stomach clenched before you turned up the speed and stuck the slick vibrator into your wet cunt, pushing it back in forth and fucking yourself with it. You spread your legs wider, your mouth hanging ajar as breathy and unfiltered moans slipped from your mouth. It hooked just right, pressing deep inside you and brushing against your G spot causing your hips to buck against it. You inched closer and closer to your release, the metaphorical spring pulled taut in your tummy while your thighs clenched in anticipation.

When the spring broke and your walls clenched and pulsated around the vibrator you moaned, rolling your hips against the toy while you continued to fuck yourself through your release. When you finished you rubbed your slick covered hands against your thigh and checked the donation list.

Mojo_Man: 5,500

Tank3939: 3,045

Bigboy64: 1,268

Trooper74: 532

JLB1977: 275

Well, well, well, it looked like Mojo and Tank were at a little war themselves during your show. You wiped the sweat that had condensed at your forehead away and sharply exhaled, “Well, that’s all for tonight everyone, thank you for watching and Mojo Man, check your DMs later!”

You couldn’t believe you just offered a complete stranger their own private show. Your mind was swimming with nerves and after you cleaned yourself off, you messaged the mysterious newcomer to your streams.

You: Hey! Thanks for your generous donation today!

Mojo_Man: No problem, love.

God you hated small talk, no wonder why you never offered up this deal. Laying back in your bed, you chewed on your lower lip, deep in thought, talking to people was like taking a college final.

Did he want small talk? You certainly hoped he didn’t and went straight into business details.

#roger taylor x reader #roger taylor smut #roger taylor x you #ben hardy!roger x reader #ben hardy!roger taylor #ben hardy!roger taylor x reader #roger taylor series #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor fanfic #queen x reader #queen smut #queen series #borhap fanfic #borhap blurb #borhap fandom #FSC fic

[celosiaa]

steady, love (chapter 3)

Summary:

Martin is not doing well.

Jon is there with him through every step.

(because I became obsessed (tm) with the idea of Martin dealing with the physical and emotional aftermath of leaving the Lonely)

WARNINGS: a bit of dysphoria and depersonalization, nothing too graphic

Chapters 1-5 are up on ao3 under the same username!

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

Oh, Martin.

The pitiful sight that greets Jon at the bottom of the stairs tugs at his heart strings.  Martin is seated on the small couch, shrouded as much as possible in a large crocheted blanket, rubbing his swollen eyes beneath his glasses.  Jon watches for a moment as Martin leans forward, elbows on his knees, and gives a miserable sniff.

Jon intentionally steps heavier as he enters the living room, doing his best to give Martin some warning of his approach.

Best not to startle him.

With the softest voice he can muster, Jon gently calls out.

“Martin?”

His attempts not to startle him are in vain, as Martin jumps bodily at the sound.  His head whips around, glasses falling askew over watery eyes, full alertness on his face.  Finding that the culprit had been Jon, he relaxes into an easy smile, pushing his glasses to their proper position.

Something warm pools in Jon’s stomach, and he cannot resist smiling in return.

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.  How long have you been awake?”

Martin opens his mouth to answer, but snaps it shut after a moment before shrugging and turning away, gazing at the floor.  Jon stares at his back, frowning in confusion.  He then walks around in front of the coffee table, directly in front of him.  Martin’s eyes remain rooted to the ground.

“Are you…upset with me?”

At this, Martin looks up quickly and shakes his head with vigor.

“Then why won’t you talk to me?”  Jon says, a bit of frustration unintentionally creeping into his tone.

Martin’s eyebrows shoot up, and he shakes his head hastily again.  Taking a moment to swallow, he then opens his mouth with determination and croaks.

“I—”

Martin cannot manage any more has he breaks off into a fit of sharp, painful-sounding coughs.  He doubles over immediately, hands covering his face.

Shit.

Jon—guilt now flooding him—hurriedly sits down beside him, placing a gentle hand on his back.  After a few moments, Martin sits back up, with eyes streaming and one hand clasped at his throat.  Jon’s own eyes begin to tear with sympathy at the sight, and he begins rubbing slow circles onto Martin’s upper back.

“Oh, dear. Are you alright?”

Martin nods, not meeting his eyes.  Jon doesn’t need the powers of the Eye to know that he’s lying.

“What can I do?  Can I get you some water?  Tea, perhaps?”

Martin nods again, sniffling and lifting the collar of his t-shirt to wipe at his eyes.  Frowning at him for a moment, Jon stands and begins puttering around the kitchen for tea.

Black tea, steeped for three minutes, replace the sugar with honey…

Behind him, Martin sounds as if he’s fighting for control over his lungs, if the muffled sputtering is anything to go by.

God, he sounds awful.

Jon unscrews the cap on the jar and pours an unholy amount of honey into Martin’s tea.

Handing it to him, their hands brush briefly, and Martin meets his gaze—giving Jon the sunniest smile he has seen in a long time, watery eyes and all.  Jon can feel his face flushing, the corners of his mouth turning up involuntarily.  Martin huffs out a silent chuckle before closing his eyes and inhaling the steam rising from the tea.  His contented expression quickly falls, however, when something audibly bubbles in his chest upon exhaling.

Eyes snapping open, he gags and pitches forward, tea splashing over the rim of his mug.  Alarmed, Jon hastens to take it from his hands.

“Martin?” he inquires anxiously.

He holds his position for a few seconds, not daring to breathe, before it seems he can no longer avoid it.  He begins to expel deep, rattling hacks—and thick tendrils of smoke pour out of him in waves.  In shock, the mug Jon holds shatters on the ground, forgotten.

“MARTIN? What…oh god, here here—” Jon puts a hand on Martin’s shoulder before turning and looking wildly about the room, bracing to meet whatever threat may come through the fog.  His heart pounds loudly in his ears as he issues a single, repeated thought into the growing gloom of their cottage:

You can’t have him you can’t have him you can’t have him you can’t—

Desperately, Jon attempts to Know the threat, to understand it—but is knocked back with an overwhelming dizziness, every cursed Mark on his body lighting up with pain.  With a gasping cry, he falls to the floor, slamming onto his hands and knees.

Jon loses time for a moment, breathing through the pain as it slowly begins to recede.  When he drifts back to the present, all is quiet, and he senses a warm presence at his side.  Looking up, he finds that Martin has knelt in front of him, his hands hanging in mid-air, as if afraid to touch him.  Jon meets his gaze, and relief immediately floods Martin’s face.  He reaches out a hand to cover Jon’s as Jon shifts his weight back to sit on curled toes.

“Okay?” Martin mouths worriedly, no sound leaving him.

“Wha—”

Jon regards Martin’s concern with a look of bewilderment for a moment.

“I-I’m fine now, just…what was that?  What happened?”

Martin clears his throat and swallows.

“I think it’s the Lonely leaving me,” he whispers with difficulty.  He turns away to cough sharply, his hand returning to clutch his throat and tears welling in his eyes.

“What do you—"

Jon trails off as Martin wipes his eyes with his shirtsleeve, giving a wet sniff.  Jon sighs and squeezes Martin’s hand.

“Hang on, I’m going to grab you some paper and a pen, alright?”

Martin nods, leaning back against the couch from where he’s still sat on the floor.  Jon stands slowly, his abused knees aching in protest, before stepping into the kitchen to retrieve a notebook from his backpack.  He begins to head back, but stops abruptly, turning on his heel and retrieving a glass of water for Martin as well.

When he returns, Martin has sat himself back on the sofa.  Jon hands him the notebook and pen before sitting next to him, placing the glass on the coffee table. Leaning over his shoulder, he watches as Martin bends over the table to write in neat, slanting cursive:

I think it’s the Lonely leaving me.  Not sure though.

“How many times has this happened?

Just once this morning.  Gave me scare

Jon huffs a humorless laugh.

“Gave me a scare too.  But how—how do you know it’s leaving you?  That it’s not…I don’t know, making some sort of reappearance?”

I’m not sure, but when it happened this morning, I was thinking about—

Martin pauses his writing for a moment, blushing and twiddling the pen between his fingers.

—how nice everything was last night.  I felt really happy, and the smoke was there when I breathed out, like it was escaping

Martin underlines the word “nice” twice.

Jon blushes to the tips of his ears.

Get a hold of yourself Jon, for Christ’s sake.

Finished, Martin regards Jon’s flustered expression before letting out a chuckle that turns into a quick cough.  As he does so, a small wisp of smoke puffs from his mouth.

Jon clears his throat in an attempt to do so.

“It…looks like you might be right.”  They watch as the smoke curls and disappears as quickly as it appeared.

They hold the silence for a moment, both lost in thought.

Jon eventually looks back at him.  “Is this why you’re ill?”

Martin raises his eyebrows at this before leaning down to write.

I don’t know.  Maybe not though.  I think I’ve been a bit—

He twiddles the pen again.

—run down for a while.

Jon’s chest aches.

“…yeah.”

Martin turns toward him at this, regarding him thoughtfully.  After a moment, he taps Jon’s knee to get his attention before continuing to write.

What happened with you?  Did you to try to use your eye thing?

“Yes, yes—I-I thought something might be trying to attack us, so I tried to see what it was, but…it was a bit overwhelming.  I’m sorry if I scared you.”

Martin reaches out a hand to cup Jon’s face, before moving his lips soundlessly.

“Are you okay?”

Jon covers his hand with his own, giving him a lopsided smile.

“Yes, I swear Martin.  I’m alright now.”

Martin returns his smile and rubs a thumb over Jon’s cheekbone before dropping his hand.  He takes the glass of water from the table before leaning back against the couch, drinking it down gratefully.

After Jon recovers his ability to think something other than the constant stream of MartinMartinMartinMartin running unhelpfully through his mind, he notices that the flush on Martin’s cheeks seems a bit more permanent than his own.  His forehead is gleaming with sweat again, the bit of fringe that hangs over his face appearing damp.  Frowning, Jon places a hand on Martin’s brow, and Martin’s eyes flutter closed.

3͓̄͗8̩̝̃̾̚.̹͓̌ͯ̓1̜̓̔̾.̙

Jon Knows this without even trying.  He drops his hand and Martin opens his eyes, looking vaguely disappointed.

“Well, you’ve definitely got a fever,” Jon says softly.  “And I need to get us some food.”

Martin nods, his gaze dropping.  Jon carefully monitors his foggy expression as he continues.

“Will you be alright here if I go find the shop?”

Martin doesn’t look up, staring down into the empty water glass and running a thumb along the rim for a moment.  He then sits up, picking up the pen and bending over the coffee table once again.

Can I come and wait in the car?

Immediately as he finishes writing, Martin begins shaking his head, trying to cross out what he’s just written.

Jon places a gentle hand on his arm.

“No, no—stop, stop—”

Martin does, putting down the pen and sighing.

“Of course—of course you can come, alright?  It’s fine, Martin, really.”

He glances up at Jon for a brief moment before giving a small smile and nodding.

With a deep exhale, Jon stands from the sofa, knees objecting to the movement once again.

“Let’s run up and get ready then,” he says, offering Martin a hand, which Martin accepts.

Ten minutes later finds Jon peering into the small mirror hung on the wall, arranging his hair into a half-decent top knot.

This is not your face.

The thought hits Jon like a train, as pictures of himself from uni, from his first day of work, from his first day as head archivist flood his consciousness.  His old face…full, healthy, not covered in scars, his eyes still a deep brown rather than this aberrant green—

Let it go.  Just breathe it in and let it go.

What’s done is done.

Jon does not look back up at the mirror.

A few minutes later, Martin returns from the bathroom and begins rummaging through his bag while Jon sits on the bed, pulling on his shoes.  Jon turns from fiddling with his laces when he hears a distressed-sounding exhale coming from where Martin is kneeling.

“What is it?”

Looking over, Jon can see that Martin is holding his binder with both hands, staring down at it.  His brow furrowing, Jon walks over to him with a lopsided gait, as only one shoe has made it onto his foot.

“What’s wrong?” Jon repeats softly.

Martin lets out a damp-sounding huff before whispering a reply.

“Shouldn’t wear it when you’re ill,” he says, eyes brimming, and looks down.

Oh, darling.

“I…I’m so sorry,” Jon murmurs as he kneels down with him.  Unsure of what to say, he begins rubbing circles on Martin’s back as he takes measured, grounding breaths.

After a few moments of this, Martin exhales determinedly before placing his binder aside and pulling out a loose-fitting jumper instead.

“Thank you,” he whispers, patting the hand on his shoulder.

“Anytime.”

He gives Martin’s shoulder a final squeeze, and leaves him to it, grabbing his other shoe on the way out.

Jon waits anxiously on the sofa for a few minutes, wanting desperately to Know if Martin is alright, if he was okay to be left alone, but not wanting to invade his privacy.

Surely he’s fine.  He just needed a moment, and he’s fine.

His leg begins to bounce with worry.

Relief washes over him when he hears Martin descending the stairs.  Jon stands quickly as he enters the room.

Ignoring his red-rimmed eyes, ever-present sniffling, and unnatural flush, he looks…almost normal.  Almost Martin.  Jon gives him a lopsided grin, which Martin mirrors, and Jon thinks he sees his face grow just a shade more pink.  Martin then jerks his head toward the door, one eyebrow raised in questioning.

Jon barks out a laugh at this, before replying.

“Yes alright then.  Bossy.”

Martin chuckles a bit in response, before it morphs into chesty coughs muffed in his sleeve, thin tendrils curling gently from his lips.  When he turns back to Jon, he is grinning widely enough to show his teeth.

“Rude, making me laugh in this state,” he whispers.

Jon dissolves into laughter again, flicking out the light as they walk out the front door.

#tma #tma fic #sickfic #jonmartin #tw dysphoria #tw depersonalization #my writing

[mithranqueersmusings]

Baby, You’re A Rich Man XXIII

Chapter: 23/28

Rating: U

Summary: Ringo could never understand why that group of three boys made him feel so uncomfortable, or why the way George looked at him sent him into a panic. After a chance encounter Ringo discovers the truth and has no clue what to do with the information.

Tags: AU - Gangsters, Slow Burn, Smut, Eventual Romance, Violence, Angst

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

Paul had been right that Brian would be awake by the time they got back to the hotel, in fact he'd already left several messages at reception inquiring after them.

"Fuck." John laughed when the receptionist told them.

Ringo began to worry a little but his intoxication far overpowered any negative feeling attempting to arise at that moment, so it was only Paul who took the situation seriously as he hurried up to their room to call Brian. The rest of them followed behind passively, still giggling and falling into each other as they climbed the stairs. It was almost 7 in the morning, and Ringo was boggled at how they'd passed so much time that night and just hoped he hadn't forgotten anything important. While Paul sat with the telephone in the other room, giving the rest of them a glare which warned them to be quiet, George pulled Ringo into their shared bedroom and onto the bed. John was close behind and threw himself down on the second bed, he kept fidgeting about trying to get comfortable before he rolled over onto the next bed and nudged up against George.

"What are you doing?" George mumbled, the tiredness was beginning to sink in, his eyes were closed and he was holding Ringo close to his chest.

"Shh." Was all John said as he tentatively put his arm around George who just grunted in response.

Ringo was beginning to fall into a deep sleep, he barely even noticed John's presence as his mind was completely occupied with the rising and falling of George's chest. After managing to fight off sleep for so long, the feeling was coming back with a vengeance now. It was only Paul's presence in the room that stirred Ringo, as he purposefully spoke loudly to rouse them.

"How sweet." Paul projected, making Ringo shudder in alarm as he opened his eyes "I just got off the phone with Brian."

George began to sir now, opening his eyes just barely "Huh? Can this wait?"

"Oh I'm sorry, feeling tired are we?" Paul laughed, still talking loudly.

"Paulie." John groaned "Just come to bed, we'll deal with it when we wake up."

Paul opened his mouth to speak again, to protest that they had to wake up and listen to him, but then he took in the image of the three of them sloppily cuddled together and decided against it. He kicked off his shoes and discarded his belt on the floor then clambered onto the bed beside John.

"Can we at least get under the covers then?" Paul suggested, tugging at the bed sheets that they were lying on top of.

John nodded sleepily and allowed Paul to pull the covers from under him, stirring George and Ringo who were just awake enough to do the same. The four of them then quickly fell asleep, George and John still fully dressed, as the city began to wake up around them. Despite the fact there were two perfectly usable beds in that room, the four of them remained tightly cuddled together on one of the double beds and not one of them found any cause to complain.

Ringo had been the first one to wake up on account of almost being pushed out of the bed by the other three tossing and turning in their sleep. He wasn't sure what time it was but he supposed it had to be the afternoon by now. Ringo didn't get out of bed immediately, he simply watched George sleep for a little while and admired the beauty of his face; he pressed a gentle kiss on his cheek before carefully getting up. The sight was a little ridiculous, Ringo thought with a quiet laugh, the three of them wrapped in one another tightly with an empty bed right beside them. He'd never experienced such closeness in a group of people before, especially not such affection amongst other men and he hadn't really realised the uniqueness of it until this moment, and it made him smile.

Over the next hour the rest of them gradually woke up, George was the last to which was a surprise to nobody, and eventually decided to go out to get some very late breakfast. They found a relatively normal looking cafe down one of the streets and each got a coffee to shake off the feelings left over from last night. George and John were both still barely conscious, John even rested his head on the table at one point to try and stop the pounding of his head. Ringo certainly felt strange but out of the three of them he thought he was recovering the best. When their food arrived, Paul turned the scant conversation to business.

"Shall we talk about what we're actually here to do then?" Paul asked only half seriously.

"Go on then, what did Brian say?" George asked, leaning against his hand to keep his head up.

"Well he wasn't too happy that we didn't call him last night but when I explained that we'd got a potential lead he wasn't too pissy." Paul began "He said the best thing to do is scope those guys out tonight and see where that leads us. He was very adamant that we shouldn't get physical unless we have to."

"Why do I feel like he was only saying that part to me?" John mumbled as he sipped his coffee.

"Your reputation precedes you, John." George chuckled.

"What should I do?" Ringo asked rather sheepishly.

"Just stay alert around Klaus and that lot, they might still have some more info." Paul smiled at Ringo "You gonna be alright without us around?"

"Hopefully." Ringo said "I've gotta get there for 6 tonight to go over songs and stuff. Will I see you guys when I'm done?"

"Maybe." George said "Can't make any promises unfortunately. If you can't see us just get back to the hotel, alright?"

"Probably best I give you this." Paul reached in his pocket for the hotel room key and pressed it into Ringo's hand.

"What if you guys end up in trouble or something?" Ringo asked "How am I to know?"

"You won't." John laughed bluntly.

"Well we shouldn't be getting into any trouble, should we?" George directed a glare at John "Just don't come looking for us, love, alright? Just get yourself to bed and we should be there by the morning."

"Alright." Ringo said somewhat sadly, George had placed his hand on top of his own to comfort him.

After they'd eaten John demanded they go back to the hotel so that he could collapse beside the toilet in case of any involuntary sickness. Paul sat in the bathroom with John for a while, Ringo wasn't sure how much of a conversation John could hold up in his current state but he supposed that didn't really matter to either of them. George and Ringo sat in the small lounge and listened to the radio for a while, Ringo playing with George's hair as he lay in his lap. John emerged from the bathroom after a while, his eyes watery and skin pale but he still wore his usual grin.

"How you feeling?" Ringo asked him as he collapsed onto one of the chairs.

"Ready for round two." John replied which made George laugh.

"Try not to throw up on these blokes later." George lifted his head up slightly to meet John's eyes.

"I dunno, might be a good tactic." John laughed "Hello, I'm one of Brian's men and I'd just like to inquire-" He cut himself off by making a retching noise which sent the rest of them into laughter.

The hours passed by fairly quickly as the four of them continued to joke around and listen to the radio. An hour or so before Ringo had to leave George announced he had something to give to him, and went rummaging around to the bottom of his suitcase and pulled out something that Ringo certainly wasn't expecting: a knife. The sight of it alone made Ringo nervous and as soon as George pressed it into his hand he felt like dropping it, as though it burned his skin.

"I don't think I can take this, George." Ringo said softly.

"I know, I know." George began "But this is a dangerous place, and if I can't be there to protect you the least I can do is give you this so you can protect yourself."

"I don't even know how to use it."

"It's a knife, not a rocket." John chimed in lightly.

"You probably won't even need to use it, its just a precaution." George placed his hand under Ringo's chin then "Please just take it, for me."

Ringo paused and looked down at the switchblade in his hand then up to George's dark eyes and saw the love behind them "Okay." He said simply and buried it deep within his pocket.

It wasn't too long before Ringo had to head out to the Top Ten Club again; it felt very peculiar leaving the three of them in the hotel room as he headed off into the unknown city, but he just had to remind himself that he had nothing to worry about. Part of him wished he was going with the rest of them, but the thought of having to confront those dangerous men made him relieved that he didn't have to get involved. He felt the weight of the knife in his pocket as he walked and it made him feel nervous, as though everyone who looked at him knew and he worried that it was making him more of a potential target. As the sun began to sink Hamburg began to rise up once more and Ringo supposed that he'd probably have a great time here if they were only on a normal holiday, yet the reason for their trip was never too far from his mind.

Klaus had been very happy to see Ringo which eased his nerves somewhat. They went over several songs with Klaus acting as the translator between Ringo and the rest of the group, who seemed to be growing increasingly impressed with Ringo's drumming ability.

"How long are you staying in Hamburg for?" Klaus translated the lead singer's question.

"Not too long, a couple of weeks probably." Ringo replied, speaking slowly and loudly as if it would somehow overcome the language barrier.

"That's a shame, you're a good drummer." Klaus spoke once more.

"Thank you." Ringo said with a smile.

"You came to Germany without even knowing how to say 'thank you'?" Klaus was speaking for himself now.

"What is it?" Ringo asked somewhat embarrassed.

"Danke." Klaus said with a smile.

"Danke." Ringo repeated.

"The manners of the English, I cannot believe it." Klaus laughed.

They practised songs for an hour or two before their shift officially started and Ringo had almost forgotten the exact reason for him being there, all until they were in the small room backstage and he saw the band taking out the same small pills from their pockets. Klaus offered one to Ringo but he politely declined, he wanted to try and keep a level head for as long as he could.

"Suit yourself." Klaus said "But you're gonna need them later, trust me."

"How long have you been taking them for?" Ringo asked as he tried to sort his hair out in the mirror.

"Not sure, as long as they've been giving them to us. Couple of months maybe." Klaus replied as he popped the pill into his mouth and swallowed it down with a sip of beer.

"What did you do before you had them?"

"Just stayed awake, I suppose. We didn't used to play so much, or for so long, but at some point they kind of shooed a lot of the bands off and started giving us the pills. Must be cheaper, I guess."

"Weird." Ringo was worried about pushing the questions too far.

"Actually, now that I think about it, everything changed when they got that new manager in. What's his name?" He turned to one of the band members and spoke in German. "Ah, yes, Stefan. Stefan started working here and everything changed."

"Changed how?" Ringo asked.

"Well like half of the bands got fired, it was a pretty sad time seeing everybody go like that. Then they started giving us the prellies and its just stayed that way." Klaus began fiddling with his bass.

"What's this Stefan like?"

"I don't know really, we don't see him that often. At the end of every week or so he speaks to us and drops off a bunch of the pills. Gives out a bit of a weird vibe." Klaus' attention was drawn to one of the members again as they spoke to him "Oh really? Strange."

"What?" Ringo asked quickly, then cursed himself for appearing so eager.

"Oh, nothing. He just said Stefan's been sniffing around the other clubs the past few weeks, passing his pills around. Guess he's got some business plan or something."

Ringo didn't have much time to ask any more questions because soon they were heading off to the stage, but he was at least satisfied that when he next saw George and the rest of them that he'd have something to tell them. The thought of the other boys made Ringo nervous, he suspected they must have at least been planning something by this point or even heading out to find those men. He tried his best to not think of the sight of George when he'd returned after their first night together with a stab wound, or how battered John and Paul had looked. He counted himself lucky that he at least had something to occupy himself while they were 'working', and nothing was a better distraction for Ringo than drumming. While the club was almost the antithesis of The Babylon, dark instead of light, filled with everyday folk rather than the uptight classes, Ringo felt more at home here, but he couldn't deny he was still a little nervous playing for all these people with yet another new band. He just hoped that when he looked out at the crowd he'd see a familiar face, see George's sharp-toothed grin, but they were nowhere to be seen. As soon as they began to play Ringo allowed himself to get lost in the music, and he was extremely proud of his ability to get through the entire night without any need of a boost even if his body was aching for him to rest.

They finished playing around midnight and Ringo felt about ready to collapse onto his drum kit just to get some sleep. Klaus had invited Ringo out once again, but this time he refused.

"I'd love to, but I'm knackered." Ringo smiled, his fingers were killing.

"Knackered?" Klaus asked "What does this mean?"

"Oh, sorry. Really tired." Ringo amended "Maybe next time though."

"Next time, then." Klaus smiled, Ringo thought he looked absolutely crazed from his sober viewpoint.

He watched Klaus run up to the rest of the band excitedly as they headed off for what Ringo guessed would only be another unhinged night. The walk back to the hotel was awfully lonely, and seeing the mass groups of people drinking and laughing together only made Ringo feel his friends' absence even more. The weight of the knife in his pocket knocking against his leg was a terrible reminder of what might be happening to them right now, he wanted to remain positive but after the things he'd seen and experienced it was difficult not worry. He kept his heavy eyes peeled for any sight of one of them but he hadn't even caught a glimpse by the time he'd gotten back to the hotel. The receptionist gave him a warm greeting which he could only halfheartedly reciprocate.

The room felt especially empty when Ringo entered it, particularly the sight of the ruffled bed covers which only reminded him of how relaxed they'd been that morning. Part of him felt that if he didn't stay up before they got back, it somehow meant that he didn't care, but even he couldn't fight off the beckoning call to sleep, and after around an hour of waiting he finally crawled into the spacious-feeling bed and began to sleep. He could hear the bustling street outside the window and it was more comforting to him than silence, it at least gave his mind something to focus on rather than the horrible potentialities he was conjuring. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep, playing for such a long time was beyond exhausting and was something he'd have to get used to.

Ringo awoke with a start to the sound of heavy banging on the door. Shit, was all Ringo could think. He hurried out of the bed and rummaged around for his trousers to pull out the knife from the pocket. Was this it? He flicked the blade up and held it defensively as he moved slowly towards the door; would they break it down? Sweat began to drip from his forehead and he felt his hands beginning to shake. That was, until he heard a voice.

"Ringo you git, open the door!" John shouted and Ringo almost collapsed in relief.

He put the knife away and chucked it onto a table before he unlocked the door to find the three of them standing there looking relatively unharmed. George was certainly glad to see Ringo, pulling him in for a quick kiss before even fully getting into the room.

"This key situation is gonna be a right nightmare." Paul said with a yawn as he walked over to the sofa and plonked himself down on it.

"How'd it go?" Ringo asked excitedly, taking a seat beside George.

"Quite well." George smiled at Ringo, taking his hand in his own "Think we found the right guys, bought some stuff off them and followed them about for a bit."

"I bartered pretty successfully, I thought." John grinned as he pulled out a bag of drugs from his jacket pocket.

"You're just itching for a fight, aren't you Johnny?" Paul chuckled then turned to Ringo "You'd think laying low and not causing up a stir would be the best idea, then this one tries to get a deal on the coke. On the coke we don't even need!"

"Speak for yourself." John retorted as he tossed the bag onto the table.

"Where did you follow them to?" Ringo asked, he felt like a little kid asking their parent's about their day at work.

"Some dodgy house not too far away." George answered "Looked like everyone and their mum was there."

"So what's the plan?"

"All that's left to do now is confront them. This is the tricky part." John said.

"Well it shouldn't be." George spoke sternly "It probably won't be the friendliest discussion, so we'll probably have to end up intimidating them or bribing them to bugger off."

"Oh God, I hope it goes well." Ringo furrowed his brow in worry.

"It should be fine." Paul said reassuringly "If things turn ugly we'll just get out of there."

"Anyway, how was your day, love?" George asked then brought Ringo's hand up to his mouth so he could press a kiss against it.

"Fine, fine. Klaus did tell me about this one guy, I think he might be part of that crew or whatever." Ringo recalled.

"Oh?" John sat forward now in interest.

"Well he said that a few months back a guy called Stefan started working there, and the whole club sort of changed. He's the reason all those drugs are getting passed around." Ringo explained.

"Interesting..." John began "Do you know what he looks like?"

"No, sorry. Klaus just said he gives off a weird vibe, that's all I know." Ringo said somewhat shamefully.

"Don't think we've got enough time to go after every bloke that gives off a weird vibe." Paul laughed "But that's a start at least."

"Do you think you can try and find some more stuff about him next time you're there?" George asked in a soft voice.

"I can try." Ringo smiled abashedly "Klaus did ask me out for drinks again, I could go and ask him a few things."

"Did he?" George asked almost sternly which made John laugh.

"Calm it, Georgie, he's not making a pass at your beloved Ringo." John giggled "Its just hospitality."

"Hmm... I suppose." George's face had hardened "Just be careful, love."

"He will be!" Paul interjected "And if Ringo's gotta suck up to a few German lads to get us the information, then that's what he's gotta do." He had a teasing grin on his face.

"Well as long as its sucking up and not sucking on, I guess I'm alright with it." George laughed, easing up a little.

"Don't I get a say in all this?" Ringo spoke up with a chuckle.

They continued joking around for a while before they all decided it was best they got some food before they went to bed, Ringo wasn't sure how he'd been going so long without noticing how long it'd been since he'd eaten. Paul was very adamant that they'd be going to bed after eating, but not before calling Brian to inform him on everything, which earned him a dramatic pout from John. They all scoffed down their food hastily and hurried back off to the hotel for some rest, drunkards and prostitutes were littering the streets now and they had to physically pull John away from the temptation.

"Do you reckon if we finish this all up early Brian will let us stay for a little while longer?" John asked as they all got ready for bed.

"Depends on how we finish it." George mumbled as he brushed his teeth.

"You got some devilish plans in mind, John?" Ringo asked.

"I just think it'd be a waste if we left this city without seeing what it has to offer." John replied.

"Or who it has to offer." George called from the bathroom.

"Oh come on! Are you guys not even a little bit curious?" John asked, directing it more at Paul than anyone else.

"I don't understand why you need to pay for sex when you have me right here." Paul said with a small pout, offering his hand out to John who took it gladly.

"It's not like that, it's just an experience. It'd be fun!" John defended himself.

"So when I asked if this is all going to end in some weird orgy, the answer was yes?" Ringo laughed.

The conversation devolved into more jokes and John adamantly trying to defend his stance, although nobody seemed the slightest bit convinced. Before they all got into bed, John made the executive decision of pushing the two beds together - even if there was barely any space between them anyway. Paul took it upon himself to call Brian, since he knew nobody else was going to do it, while the other three got under the covers and waited for Paul to finish. It was a fairly short conversation, and Paul had nothing to report when he moved into the bedroom and got into bed beside John.

"He just wants us to be careful." Paul said sleepily "Didn't say much else."

"So you didn't ask him if we'd be allowed to stay afterwards?" John asked cheekily.

"Jesus, give it a rest John!" George called out with a laugh.

"Let's save that until after we finish this job, alright?" Paul cuddled up beside John.

There was a small pause before Ringo spoke "Do we have any plans for the day tomorrow? I'm not working until 8."

"I've got an idea." John said.

"Fuck sake, of course you do." George already had his eyes closed.

"I think we need to get ourselves some new clothes, else we're really gonna stick out like a bunch of tourists." John explained.

"Well that's not what I thought you were gonna suggest." George mumbled.

"Do we stick out that much?" Ringo asked.

"Well with Paulie over here in his fancy blazer, I'd say so." John laughed "Just look at your band Ringo, what are they all wearing?"

Ringo paused to think "Black?"

"And..." John urged him on.

"Shoes?" Paul chimed in with a chuckle.

"German accents?" George joined in.

"Leather!" John cried out "They all have leather jackets and trousers, and I think we need to get some."

"It does look pretty cool." George admitted quietly.

"I dunno if that's really my style." Paul spoke up.

"Come on, love, when in Rome." John said "It'll give us something to do tomorrow at least. Might even increase our chances negotiating."

"It wouldn't hurt to try it." Ringo had closed his eyes now too, resting his head on George's chest.

"Exactly, that's the spirit!" John was the only one with any energy at this point.

"Alright, fine, we'll go look at some leather clothes tomorrow. Just nothing weird, alright?" Paul mumbled.

"Weird? Me? I'm offended, Paulie." John scoffed sarcastically then leaned in to whisper in his ear, something Ringo couldn't quite understand and he was partly glad for it considering the reaction it received - a small gasp from Paul followed by a satisfied hum.

"Can we all shut the fuck up and go to bed now, please?" George said, nudging John slightly.

That marked the end of their conversation and it wasn't long before they all dropped off to sleep one by one. Ringo felt safe and secure in this moment, with his boyfriend pressed up against him and John and Paul cuddled up together beside them. The thought of tomorrow loomed menacingly in his mind, and he hated the thought of having to be separated from the other three once again, especially since they were taking a much larger risk this time. He panicked at the thought of anything terrible happening, especially if one of them got wounded like they had done last time; would Ringo even know the right thing to do in that situation? Ringo's mind was filled with fear, a voice in his mind telling him constantly that he shouldn't be here, but every time his mind focused on George's breathing or the sound of John muttering in his sleep, all those thoughts were silenced. He just had to face whatever situation came his way, he decided in that moment, and there was no use worrying about anything that he couldn't prevent.

Tomorrow was going to be an eventful day, that much was certain, and Ringo still wasn't sure whether he was more scared by the potentiality of violence or the thought of trying on leather clothing.

#the beatles #beatles #beatles fanfic #the beatles fanfic #beatles fanfiction #george harrison/ringo starr #ringo starr/george harrison #ringo starrxgeorge harrison #george harrisonxringo starr #starrison

[hxseok-honee]

i found | part 18

a/n: YAH YEET LETS COP THIS CRUST PLS LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK <3 

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When Y/n steps into the transfiguration classroom later that night and finds it empty, she worries that perhaps Yoongi’s chosen to stay in his room tonight, that maybe he’s decided he doesn’t want to see her anymore. Setting her stuff down on the table closest to her, she paces the room slightly, chewing on the ends of her fingernails and wearing away the skin there as her anxiety grows.

What if he doesn’t want to be near me right now? He wouldn’t take it out on me, would he? I wouldn’t blame him I guess… What if he’s more hurt than I thought? Should I call someone? Surely someone would have found him already if he fainted or something, right? Maybe I should go check the Hospital W-

“Why do you look so nervous?” Head whipping around as her body reacts to the sudden presence in the room, her eyes find his instantly. Yoongi’s wearing a fresh set of clothes, and it’s obvious he tried to clean himself up a bit in the time that they’d been apart, but he almost looks worse now than he did before. The bruises on his neck and around his left eye have already darkened drastically, and his arm is still wrapped almost protectively around the front of his torso, hovering over his ribs. He’s leaning against the door frame in what appears to be a casual manner, but it’s clear that he’s using it to support his weight. He watches her scan over his form quickly, and he can tell by the way her eyes lower to the floor that she’s uncomfortable. Frowning deeply, he steps further into the room, hoping to distract her.

“What’s all this?” Pointing at the box that sits on the table as he approaches it, he peers into it and finds a bunch of different medical supplies. Poking through it with a hum, he hears her come closer to him as she speaks.

“Uh, it’s my first-aid kit. I mean, it’s not really a kit, I guess- just all of the medicine and disinfectant stuff I own. I figured I should just bring everything with me, just in case-” He glances over his shoulder to look at her while she rambles, still unable to figure out where the sudden awkwardness is coming from. Turning to look at her properly, he waits until she’s done to start speaking.

“Why are you acting so weird? It’s more awkward than when we first met.” She raises her eyes to look into his, expecting to see some lingering resentment there from the events of the day, but all she sees is the same guy she was with last night, blinking curiously down at her through concerned eyes and a furrowed brow.

“Uh… I don’t know, I’m just worried that you’re upset with me or something…” He scoffs at her words, rolling his eyes lightly as he leans back and perches himself on the table, situating himself comfortably next to the box.

“Come on Y/n, you know better than that. I’m not the type to hold grudges, especially against someone who’s done nothing wrong.” She looks like she’s about to argue with him, so he leans forward, groaning lightly at the pressure on his ribs, and slips two fingers into one of the belt loops on her jeans. Tugging gently, he brings her close to him, adjusting his seating so she can stand in the space between his legs. He can’t tell if her sudden silence is a good or bad thing, so he gestures awkwardly to the box.

“Do your thing, Doc.” She smiles slightly at his words, deciding not to say anything about the proximity and running her eyes over his form one more time before speaking, averting her gaze and reaching into the box as she does so.

“Take off your shirt.” She can hear him chuckling quietly as he reaches for the hem of his black t-shirt, so she chooses to keep her eyes on the various bottles and band-aids as she wishes for the heat in her face to go away soon. But he takes too long to do as she says, and suddenly he’s making a strangled noise and squeezing his legs together, pressing the sides of his knees into her thighs to alert her. Glancing quickly at him, she can’t help the laugh that explodes violently out of her.

He’s got his shirt halfway off, but there must be an injury around his shoulders because he’s struggling to lift the shirt over his head. Clearly he’s having some trouble because he’s in pain, but all she can see is a half-dressed Yoongi wiggling around as he tries to get out of his own trap. Reaching out to him, her laughter is barely masked as she takes hold of his shirt and pulls it the rest of the way off. By the time she finally manages to drag the article of clothing off of him, he’s complaining loudly and leaning into her for support.

Tossing his shirt on the table beside them, she runs her hands along the skin of his back and through the soft hair at the base of his neck as he presses his face into the crook of her neck, breathing heavily.

“You doing okay there?” He nods slightly, keeping his weight on her and his chest pressed flush against hers as his hands sit gently on the curve of her hips. It’s only when he’s been there for a few more moments that he realizes the position they’re in. Pulling away quickly and clearing his throat softly as he peers into the box again, he doesn’t see the way her expression falls, the way her soft smile disappears. He’s too busy trying to mask his own embarrassment.

“This is a lot of muggle stuff… why not just use magic to clean me up?” He hears her chuckle sweetly at his words, so he glances up at her. She’s reaching into the box, speaking as she pulls out a bottle of what he hopes won’t sting when she applies it.

“Well, I grew up taking care of my siblings when they got hurt, and since my parents are both muggles, this is how I do things best-” She rambles on as he watches her, wonder shining in his eyes as he realizes just how much she hasn’t told him about herself yet, and he can’t help the way he cuts her off.

“You never told me your parents are muggles-” He means it as an innocent comment, an acknowledgment that he’s been listening- but when he sees her tense in hesitation, he finds himself cursing his own lineage. “I’m not saying anything bad about it, Y/n. It was just a comment… My family’s not like other Slytherin families, I promise.” The breath she was holding leaves her and he can see she’s visibly relaxing before him. Placing his hands on her hips again, he brings her closer as she goes back to pouring different solutions onto cotton balls and dabbing them onto his arms and shoulders. They stay this way for so long that neither of them even notices when his eyes close slightly and his head comes forward to rest softly against her shoulders, his fingers slipping under the hem of her shirt slightly as his thumbs rub small circles across her skin.

She cleans him up like this, bandaging various wounds on his arms before nudging him back so she can see him properly. He stares sweetly at her as she examines him with a critical eye, only wincing when she pokes at the spot on his ribs that’s been bothering him all day. She hums disapprovingly but doesn’t poke at it again.

“It doesn’t seem like anything’s broken, probably just bruised. I’ll make you a pain potion later and bring it to you tomorrow in class-”

“You’re going to make me a potion?” She groans at his amused comment, tempted to pinch his face just to shut him up.

“Okay, listen, I know I’m terrible at potions, but I actually happen to know how to make pain potions! The boys are always getting themselves into trouble, so I end up making like 20 of these potions a year, at least.” He doesn’t even realize how brightly he’s smiling as he watches her complain, but he sees the way her expression falls just as she finishes speaking, and suddenly his frown matches hers. Catching her eye, he pulls her in just slightly.

“Hey… what’s wrong?” She sighs and looks away, reaching into the box to pull out some disinfectant cream. She uncaps it and squeezes some onto her finger before taking his face in one hand to steady herself as she runs her finger over his bottom lip, covering the split there as gently as she can.

“I just don’t know what to do… I’m so unbelievably mad at them right now. They all just stood there and let Jungkook hurt you. I never thought I’d see a day when I would feel like I had no idea who they were. And Jungkook! He’s rambled on and on before about how much he hates the way you ‘think you can rule this place with violence’ or some stupid bullshit like that- but that’s exactly what he did to you! He just lost his mind and… attacked you. I understand that they’re upset that I’ve been keeping secrets, and I can see why they were surprised when they found out that we’re friends, but that just wasn’t the way to handle this. I just don’t know if I can forgive them for this…” Yoongi watches her as she rants to him, deciding not to mention the fact that she’s just been standing there rubbing the cream onto his lip over and over again as she gets lost in her thoughts. Waiting until it seems that she’s done speaking, he brings his hand up to her wrist and pulls her hand away from his lip gently, wiping a clean cotton ball over her finger softly to get rid of the leftover disinfectant.

“Y/n, I understand that you’re mad at them, but you know them better than anyone else in the world. Those are your best friends, you know they must have had their reasons for being this upset. Even I knew how unhappy they were going to be when they found out about us, why do you think I was so hesitant last night when you told me everything would be fine?” Grasping her hands in his own, he looks steadily into her eyes. “Don’t stay mad at them for too long, Y/n. They’re true friends. Even friends make mistakes, and, if I’m being honest, in the grand scheme of things, this isn’t as fucked up as it could have been.” He would be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised by how deeply she frowned at him in that moment.

“How could you say that when you know how much you mean to me?” His eyebrows lift dramatically at her words, and he almost laughs when he sees how quickly she becomes embarrassed. He watches how she starts to stutter, pulling her hands out of his grasp and replacing all the bottles back into the box quickly, and he’s hit with the sudden urge to pull her into his arms and keep her there forever. He hates how hard the urge hits him, so he fights it as best he can.

“What’s this? I mean a lot to you? Mom, I think I love her- okay okay, I’m sorry!” She’s taken hold of his right ear, possibly the only part of him that isn’t injured, and is tugging on it harshly. When he finally manages to squirm his way out of her deadly pinch, he’s laughing gently. He reaches out and takes a loose strand of her hair between his fingers, running it back until it’s tucked securely behind her ear. Keeping his hand on the side of her face and forcing her to look at him, he whispers softly to her.

“Don’t be mad at them, Y/n. I’m not. I know they’re just overprotective, and that they don’t know me like you do. So don’t be mad- they’re all you’ve got.” She’s running a finger over his collarbone, and he knows she has no idea how she’s affecting him, especially with the way she talks to him.

“They’re not all I have, Yoongi. I have you now. So they need to learn to accept that… because I’m not letting you go.” He hears her, hears the way she talks about him like she needs him the way he’s come to need her, and he knows his heart is hers. He’s so busy focusing on the truth of his feelings, so busy looking at her and realizing that he’s never felt this way before, that he almost misses the fact that she’s still talking to him.

“-frustrating? Isn’t it annoying how often people try to fight you? You said yourself that it’s exhausting… wouldn’t it be better if everyone else knew just how good you are? It’s unfair that no one knows except me, it’s like you can never catch a break…” He smiles at her slightly, still a bit unsteady from his own thoughts. He shakes his head, still smiling as he looks at her.

“No, I like it better this way. No one else needs to know who I am… all that matters is that you know.” He doesn’t think of the implications of his words, doesn’t realize that he’s affecting her just as much as she’s affecting him. He doesn’t see how red her face becomes, he’s already averted his gaze and found a sudden interest in the moon, clearly visible through one of the windows on his right.

He doesn’t know how long he’s staring out the window, or if she’s reacted to his words in any way. All he knows is that it’s suddenly very quiet and he starting to feel awkward, so he keeps his eyes trained on the window because he’s scared to look back at her. He doesn’t realize that she’s been staring at him this whole time, almost entranced by the way he looks to her in that moment. So she honestly can’t be blamed for the way her body moves of its own accord, leaning into him quickly. But she has no idea just how aware of her he is, so she’s unprepared for the way he turns to face her just as she starts to move, and suddenly lips that were supposed to find his cheek are now on his own lips, registering just how soft and warm his mouth is.

Pulling back with a loud gasp, she’s stuttering again, trying to come up with any explanation she can for what just happened- but he’s not listening. There’s a small bit of the disinfectant cream smudged across her bottom lip, and all he can think about is how it ended up there. His gaze stays locked on her lips, so focused that he’s actually able to pick out her words even without hearing them properly.

“Okay, see you later!” He blinks once, twice, and by the time he realizes what’s happened she’s already run out of the room. Glancing down at the spot next to him as he brings his hand up to press lightly against his lips, he finds himself staring at all of her medical supplies. Lifting his eyes to the open door again, he calls weakly out to the empty room.

“You left your box…”

#bts texts #bts au #bts smau #bts social media au #bts hogwarts au #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi texts

[watchmegetobsessed]

Neighbor - Shawn Mendes - Part 3

okaaaay so part 3 here we go! this is the last part, i hope you liked how it turned out to be, i personally enjoyed writing this short story!

part 1 - part 2

masterlist

An hour and half a bottle of vodka later I don’t even remember the name of the guy from my disastrous date. I’m lying on Shawn’s couch with the rest of my drink on my hand as I’m watching him struggling to fix his own TV, because he sat on the remote and the movie disappeared from the screen and he hasn’t been able to restore it. I’m also having a hard time not to laugh at him loudly, but the wide grin on my face already gives it away how funny I find the situation.

“Oh fuck this shit, we are not watching the end,” he growls annoyed as he throws the remote away and I can’t hold my laughter back anymore.

“No, how will I know for sure they end up together?” I pout at him as he runs his fingers through his messy curly. His biceps flex in the motion and my dizzy eyes can’t help but take a good look at him. He is wearing a black tank top that is just unfair, because his muscular body looks heavenly it and then his gym shorts are also giving a glimpse of his thighs.

“We all know he is gonna apologize for being a dick and they end up together, but you can come over tomorrow and we can finish it when I’ll be able to see the buttons on the remote,” he laughs at himself plopping down to the couch next to me. He lifts my legs up and scoots closer taking them onto his lap and leaving his warm hands on my bare knees.

I chug down my drink and put the glass down to the ground next to my head as I turn to him. His eyes look blurry, or maybe my eyes are the blurry ones, I don’t know.

“Another one?” he asks nodding toward my empty glass, but I shake my head no furrowing my eyebrows.

“If you don’t want me to puke all over your toilet, no more,” I grunt knowing I definitely don’t need another drink at this point.

“Okay,” he chuckles.

I close my eyes for a bit as only existing feels tiring at this point. My head is weighting down heavily into the couch and Shawn’s touch on my leg is sending warmth through my whole body. All I can think about is how those hands would feel all over my body, not just my knees, how his lips would feel on my lips and his abs under my fingers…

“I think I should head home,” I blurt out when I realize my thoughts have went too far. I don’t trust my drunk self not to say anything stupid, so going home seems like the best thing to do.

“What? Stay! Why don’t we order pizza? I’m so hungry,” he sighs, but I just shake my head wanting to escape before I run my mouth.

“Nah, I should get some sleep. We’ll have pizza some other time.”

I manage to stand up, but my head starts swirling and I need to stop for a moment. Shawn gets up and takes my hand worried.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just… the vodka doesn’t like standing up, I guess,” I chuckle finding my joke more hilarious than it really was. Shawn’s hand doesn’t let go, instead he moves closer and examines me with a cheeky smile.

“Don’t blame it on the vodka, maybe it’s just you who is too clumsy,” he jokes and I gasp at him pretending to be hurt.

“Shut up, Mendes,” I roll my eyes at him, but my body is way less sassy than my tone. My hands somehow slide up to his chest in what started as a playful push, but they end up staying there. His body is so hard under my touch, I let out a satisfied sigh that makes him smile.

“Make me,” he suddenly says blinking down at me from under his curls.

My brain doesn’t process it as fast as it should. His eyes are staring right at me and as I look back at him I’m pretty sure he has drunk more than he should have, just like me. A small voice in my head is telling me to just leave and come back when neither of us is drunk, but when his arms curl around my body the voice just disappears. I don’t even realize that we are inching closer and closer until I speak up and out lips almost touch.

“Happily,” I breathe out and it’s not me who leans in, but it would have been just a matter of time.

He crashes his lips to mine and I hungrily return the kiss immediately opening my mouth and giving him anything he would want. His lips feel just as amazing as I imagine, my body is heating up pretty quickly as it turns into the most passionate kiss I’ve ever had. My fingers slide into his silky hair and I moan into his mouth when I feel one of his hands on my butt.

We slowly start moving, but I have no idea where, my brain can’t process this much in its drunk state, I just obey to him moving my legs and trying not to trip. In just a couple of minutes, without ever breaking off, I land probably on his bed, his body weights on me in a pretty enjoyable way as his hands slide under my shirt.

When I open my eyes and they meet his it seems like time has stopped for a bit. My eyes wander through his face, memorizing every little bit before I see a small smile on his perfect lips. It’s not cocky, not even close to the smile I get whenever he makes a joke on me. It’s an honest and happy smile, but before I could think about what could be behind it his lips meet mine and my mind goes blank.

 When I wake up it’s still dark in the room. The bedsheets feel soft against my skin and for a moment my mind blocks out the fact that I’m not in my room, I just nuzzle my face into the pillow, but then it all crashes down on me at once. My eyes pop open and turning around I’m met with a sleeping and very naked Shawn.

Memories flood back into my mind as I remember everything that happened yesterday, since I wasn’t that drunk to forget it. My disastrous date, me coming here, then the vodka, the movie, the kiss… and then me spending the night after having sex with him.

Suddenly I can’t tell where I’m standing with the situation. Did I enjoy my night with him? Absolutely! He is just as amazing in bed as I imagined, but I don’t think he meant it to be anything more than just a one night stand, especially after that much vodka.

I start panicking and there is just one thing that I know for sure, I have to leave before he wakes up. As quiet as possible I manage to get out of the bed, then grab my clothes from the floor, I put my shirt and pants on, that’s just enough to make it to my door. I hold all my other stuff to my chest as I take one last glimpse at his sleeping figure. He looks peaceful and also too gorgeous which just makes it even harder for me. If I had the slightest chance with him before it’s mostly likely to be gone by now, after I basically let myself fall into his arms in my sad and drunk state of mind. He must think I’m just some easy chick hungry for any affection.

I successfully leave his place without waking him up and decide to show it all to the back of my mind until I have a solid solution for the situation and just go on with my life. Luckily I made plans with my cousin who is in town so I go out to have lunch with her and we agree on spending the afternoon together shopping. I manage to stop thinking about anything related to Shawn, up until the moment we are leaving the restaurant and my phone buzzes in my pocket. My cousin runs back to quickly use the bathroom, and fishing my phone out my heart skips a beat when I see Shawn’s name on the screen. I hesitate whether if I should open his message or not. It’s two pm now, I doubt he just woke up meaning he didn’t reach out to me for hours.

I decide to open the message.

From: Shawn Hey, wanna hang tonight?

It’s simpler than what I was expecting and to be honest the more times I read it the more it hurts. Because as I stare down at his words I feel like it’s an invitation to go over and just casually have sex with him again and the fact that he now sees me as a side chick he can ring up anytime he feels like it just makes the whole situation worse.

I bite into my bottom lip as my fingers linger on the keyboard, then decide not to take it too petty.

To: Shawn Can’t, my cousin is in town, spending time with her.

I don’t wait to see if he responds or even reads my message, I just show the phone into my bag so I don’t notice when I get a new message, just in time to see my cousin walk out of the restaurant, ready to continue our day.

I can’t shut my anxiety out entirely throughout the day and when we part our ways with my cousin at the end of the day I start worrying about running into him on my way home. I’m on full alert mode as I approach my building and I basically tiptoe on the floor. I don’t know if he is at home, so when I finally make it to my place I shut the door behind me and listen if I hear anything.

A few moments later I hear the familiar knocks on the wall that signals his will to have me over. Before yesterday I would have been already over, talking about something nonsense and having a beer with him, but now is the first time when I ignore it.

I feel horrible, because I want to go over so much, but I know things are different now and will never be the same, just because I got drunk and made a fool our of myself.

The next few days are horrible. I have to creep around to make sure I don’t run into Shawn, he texts me a few more times and I make excuses not to see him and I keep ignoring his knocking on the wall. His last text is what makes it the worse.

From: Shawn I’m sorry.

I don’t know why he is sorry. Sorry for the night? For ever sleeping with me? For his texts after that? I have no idea, but it’s making me sick to the stomach.

A week after out night together the inevitable happens. I’m coming home from school when he steps out of his place, his eyes are glued to his phone and I freeze when I see him. His eyes move to me and his whole presence changes immediately. He slides his phone into his pocket as he takes a few steps towards me.

“Hey,” he smiles at me shyly and I finally gain control back over my body, so I manage to force a smile to my face.

“Hi.”

“How are you? Haven’t seen you in ages,” he asks with a nervous chuckle.

“Yeah, sorry. I’ve been busy with school and stuff.” I clear my throat feeling horrible for the lie again. As I look at him I see something weird in his eyes, but I just can’t put my finger on it.

“I hope everything is fine though,” he adds.

“Yeah, it’s all good,” I fake smile putting my arms around myself.

“Well, I hope we can hang out sometime, I miss our talks and laughs.”

My heart aches just before I reply to him, but I just ignore the feeling.

“I don’t know when I’ll have freetime but… I’ll let you know.”

Something changes in his eyes and it scares me for a moment. They don’t shine anymore and his smile fades too. Suddenly I feel the urge to take everything back that I said, but it’s too late.

He nods and then makes his way past me.

“Sure. See you around,” he mumbles on his way to the elevator and I rush inside to just get out of the whole awkwardness.

The door closes behind me and I stand there for long minutes. My hands are shaking, I want to scream and I also want to go back in time, but I-

My thoughts get interrupted by a knocking and I basically jump. I turn to the door and opening it I see Shawn standing there, he looks more nervous than ever and he opens his mouth a couple of times before actually speaking up.

“I miss you,” he finally says surprising me. “I-I miss having you around, cooking with you, watching movies with you or just talking about our days.”

“What?” is all I can get out of myself as I process his words.

“Y/N, that Friday… I’m sorry, but only because it’s not how I planned this. You deserve so much more and I wanted to give it to you, but we got drunk and I lost control.”

“What do you mean? What did you plan?” I ask in confusion.

“I…” He sighs running his fingers through his hair nervously as he takes a step towards me. “Y/N, I like you. And not just as a friend. I like you and I’m sorry for being a jerk and doing this the wrong way, but let me make it up.”

My heart is racing so fast I’m afraid I might have a heart attack. His words echo in my mind as he is standing there in my doorway, staring at me nervously, probably waiting for me to say something.

“Oh my God,” I breathe out with wide eyes. “Is this for real?” I ask just to be sure.

“A hundred percent real. And if you let me, I’ll take you out on a proper date and do it the right way, not that I didn’t like spending the night with you, but I would rather earn it and also… have you there in the morning.”

A cheeky smile appears on his lips and now he looks so much more like himself. I decide not to say anything but basically launch myself at him and crash my lips on his throwing my arms around his neck.

He is taken aback by my sudden actions, but a moment later his arms wrap around my body and he returns my kiss more than willingly. We take a few steps to get inside and he pushes the door closed with his leg as I get lost in his perfect lips.

“Does this mean you say yes to that date?” he asks when we finally part, but we don’t let go of each other.

“Of course, idiot. God, I really thought you think I’m just some easy slut after that night,” I admit blushing.

“What?! Not at all! I felt so bad, I felt like I pressured you into it and I was afraid you totally regretted it. I mean, you kept avoiding me and all, I felt horrible.”

“I was just ashamed,” I sigh.

“Don’t be, but let’s just forget about it and do it the right way. What are you doing tonight?” he asks smiling down at me.

“I think I’m having a date with you, right?” I ask giggling.

“Correct. I’ll pick you up at seven, okay?”

“Perfect.”

“Now I have to go, but…” He lets go of me and heads to the door. “I can’t wait for tonight.” He winks at me before turning around and leaving. The widest smile spreads across my face when I think he is gone, but then he suddenly runs back to me and captures my lips in another mind-blowing kiss.

“Sorry. I had to.” He grins down at me cheekily. “See you tonight,” he adds before walking out, this time for real.

#shawn #mendes #shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fanfics #shawn mendes fanfictions #shawn mendes imagines #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes x reader #mendes army

[katedoesfics]

The Lost Hero | Chapter 4

The trip to Akkala was far longer than going to Castle Town, taking them two days to complete their journey. Located in the north-eastern corner of Hyrule, the air was notably cooler. At it’s northern tip, and just west of Akkala, Death Mountain loomed over them, and to the east, the mountains that made up Upland Zorana. And beyond the range, tucked away in the deep valley, was Zora’s Domain.

Dahvi didn’t realize how close he would be to the Zoras, which only reminded him that he was a very long way away from home. Or, the home he had known for his entire life. And though he would always feel a closeness to the desert he grew up in, he knew that he belonged out in Hyrule. Urbosa was right, afterall; Hyrule was their home, no matter what corner of the world they came from. And he was excited to explore it all.

The north-eastern corner of Hyrule that made up the Akkala region wasn’t unlike the rest of Hyrule, at least from what Dahvi had seen. It was just as lush with life as Central Hyrule, yet notably more open and vast. The trees ignited in fiery oranges, reds, and yellows, bringing a stark contrast of color to the green plains. As they neared the edges of Akkala, he could smell a hint of the salty ocean on the breeze.

By nightfall, they finally reached the lab that the Sheikah Robbie called home. He was quirky as Sheikah came; he was short in stature and wore glasses that Dahvi could only compare to goggles. And it was clear that he had a true love for ancient Sheikah technology, with many artifacts hung on walls and scattered around the main room of his lab. Dahvi didn’t know what any of it was, but found himself examining them curiously as Robbie greeted them. As he and Urbosa spoke, Dahvi wandered around the lab, drawn to its curiosities. He was in the midst of examining a peculiar object, his arm raised to touch it with his fingers, when Robbie jumped up from seemingly out of nowhere, grinning at Dahvi. His arms folded across his chest as Dahvi stumbled backwards in surprise.

“Ah, a curiosity for technology, hm? A boy after my own heart.”

“Sorry,” Dahvi muttered. He clasped his arms behind his back.

Robbie laughed and waved him off with a hand. “Nonsense, boy. I appreciate a mind that craves knowledge.” Robbie patted the item that Dahvi had been examining. “Not to worry; nothing here will hurt you. Well, certainly not as they are right now.” Robbie laughed as Dahvi’s expression turned to fear. “Oh, don’t fret,” he said. “All of our technology was created to help stop the Calamity. They will do you no harm.” He swung his leg around, promptly spinning himself around to face Urbosa. A wide smile split his face.

“Don’t you worry about him, now,” Robbie said. “He’s in good hands. The best, if I do say so myself!”

Urbosa smiled down at Robbie. “I wouldn’t see him with anyone else,” she said. She turned her gaze to Dahvi. “You do as Robbie says, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dahvi said.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay the night?” Robbie asked.

“I appreciate the offer,” Urbosa said. “But I’ve left Riju in charge until I return.”

“A terrible decision,” Dahvi said.

“Well, best you get back as soon as possible, then,” Robbie said with a grin.

Urbosa tousled Dahvi’s hair, then bent down to plant a kiss on his cheek. Dahvi’s nose wrinkled, but otherwise he did not pull away from her.

“Sav’orq, Dahvi,” Urbosa said.

“Sav’orq.” He watched as Urbosa and her guards left the lab, the door closing behind them, and he let out a breath, his shoulders dropping. This was his life now.

“Now, then,” Robbie started, clapping his hands together and turning to Dahvi. “You’ve had a long trip. A good night’s rest will do you some good. Are you hungry?”

Dahvi shook his head. “No, sir.”

“Well, then, let me show you to your room.”

Dahvi followed Robbie towards a hallway outside of the lab. They climbed a set of stairs, then stopped at one of the closed doors.

“I have much to teach you, Dahvi,” Robbie said as he opened the door. “We’ll start first thing in the morning. For now, settle in and get some rest.”

Dahvi thanked Robbie, then stepped into the bedroom, the door closing behind him. Dahvi stood in the center of the room for a moment, looking around him, then placed his pack on the bed against the wall. He gazed out the window - opened just slightly - overlooking the Akkala region. To his left, east of Akkala, he could see the Akkala Sea. To his right, the sun had disappeared behind the distant Death Mountain. The sky was darkening quickly as the evening approached.

Dahvi took a moment to settle in, emptying his belongings from his pack. He filled the wardrobe with his clothes and placed his spear carefully against the wall in the corner of the room, across from his bed. When he was finished, he let himself drop onto the bed. He took in a deep breath, the salty air filling his nose, and he closed his eyes.

*****

An unholy sound louder than Dahvi could have ever imagined caused him to awake with a start, falling out of his bed and onto the floor. His hands rushed to his ears, pressing tightly against them in an attempt to block the horrid noise. He dared to open his eyes, wincing slightly as the sound continued, only to find Robbie standing above him, banging two pots together.

“What the - are you out of your mind?” Dahvi barked at him.

Robbie straightened and laughed, and to Dahvi’s relief, he stopped banging the pots together.

“We have no roosters to wake us up around here,” Robbie said. “I thought this would do just as well.”

Dahvi groaned and pushed himself onto his feet. He glanced at the window only to be met with the disappointing news that the sun hadn’t even graced the world with its presence yet.

“It’s not even daylight out,” Dahvi whined.

“Not yet,” Robbie confirmed, raising a finger in the air. “The sun will be up shortly. But there is still much to be done!”

“Agreed,” Dahvi started. “Like more sleep.”

Robbie grinned. “Come,” he said, turning away from him and moving to the door. “Get yourself dressed. The day has just begun!” And with that, the door closed loudly behind him.

“He’s insane,” Dahvi muttered. Still, he stretched his arms, yawned, and proceeded to dress quickly. He trotted downstairs into the lab where Robbie was waiting. Dahvi sniffed the air, the scent of fresh eggs filling his nose.

“Ah, yes,” Robbie said. “Breakfast is a key start to every day.” He held a plate of cooked eggs in front of him, only to pull the plate away as Dahvi reached for it.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Robbie said. “This is my breakfast.”

Dahvi frowned. “But you said breakfast is a key start to the day.”

Robbie nodded. “I did say that, didn’t I? But in the real world, there are no servants to feed you.”

“I’ve never had servants feed me,” Dahvi muttered.

“But they cooked for you.”

“I guess.”

“And they hunted and gathered for you.”

“Well -”

“If you want to eat today, dear boy, then you must find a way to do so.”

Dahvi let out a loud sigh, and Robbie grinned.

“I already gave you some help,” Robbie said. “Early mornings and evenings are the best times to hunt. And during the day, you can gather any plants you come across.” He jumped forward toward Dahvi, thrusting his palms out at him. “But don’t eat them! Later, I’ll show you what’s good, and what’s poisonous.”

Dahvi swallowed. “Poisonous?”

Robbie chuckled. “I have complete faith in you,” he said, then pushed Dahvi out the door. “Now, go get some breakfast!”

Dahvi stared at the door as it slammed behind him. He stood there a moment, then heard the distinct sound of a deadbolt sliding across. He heard shuffling from inside, then noticed Robbie peaking at him from the nearby window, a wide grin on his face. Dahvi sighed, then turned around to face the still sleeping world. Without the sun, there was a chill in the air, and he pulled his cloak tighter around him before stepping off the stoop with only his spear in hand.

Fortunately, Robbie’s lab was not far from the foothills, and Dahvi recalled seeing a lot of wildlife darting in and out of the trees in a sparse forest to the west. He set off in that direction, whistling a quiet tune to himself until he neared the forest. He had never hunted before, but he was not unfamiliar to the concept. He wasn’t a completely inept idiot, afterall. He knew that the creatures of the wild would not take kindly to his presence. And those that did not scurry off to safety would surely have no fear in attacking him head on. He had a general idea of what to avoid - the larger, more intimidating beasts - and what would likely provide an easy meal.

He set off into the woods as silently as he could, spear at the ready, his eyes searching for any movement he could find. Birds fluttered through the trees, and from time to time, a squirrel leapt between the branches, but Dahvi did not expect to have much luck with these smaller, quicker creatures.

It wasn’t long, however, before he came across a small herd of deer nibbling on the grass just at the treeline. He pressed himself against one of the trees, holding his breath as he leaned around to examine them.

There was a particularly large deer with antlers closest to him, but he didn’t dare to attempt to hunt that one. He chose his next closest target, one of the smaller does, then carefully planned his method of attack. Thanks to his training with the Gerudo, he felt confident in his abilities with the spear. The target was in his line of sight, and he was close enough to ensure accuracy. All he needed to do was throw the spear.

He stepped out from behind the tree only to snap a small branch on the ground. The sound immediately alerted the herd, their heads shooting up and their eyes wide as they spotted him. The sprung into action, quickly darting back into the trees at remarkable speed. Dahvi cursed under his breath, but resisted the urge to chase them. Instead, he threw his spear into the ground, then leaned against the tree to wait until his anger passed.

After a few moments, his breathing slowed, and he turned his gaze to the sky. From one of the branches above him, a bird took flight, momentarily leaving its nest. Curious, Dahvi proceeded to climb the tree until he reached the nest. To his delight, three eggs were tucked into the structure of the nest. It was no deer, but perhaps it would be enough to satisfy Robbie. 

No sooner did he reach into the nest, however, the mother bird returned angrily. She screeched threateningly and batted her wings at him. Dahvi tried desperately to keep his hold on the branch while swinging his arm around, but before he knew it, he was dropping to the ground, landing hard on his back. The impact knocked the breath right out of him, and he choked and sputtered for a moment before his breathing steadied once more. He glared angrily at the bird perched on the edge of the nest, and she seemed to glare angrily back at him, daring him to try to touch her babies again.

Dahvi cursed at the bird, then returned to his feet. He pulled his spear out of the ground and trudged through the forest in frustration. His stomach was starting to grumble, now, and the hungrier he felt, the angrier he became.

He slowed his pace and took in a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. He wasn’t incapable of taking care of himself, and he refused to let anyone think he didn’t have what it took to survive in Hyrule on his own. He didn’t need a babysitter - certainly not Robbie - and he was determined to prove that to himself and to Urbosa.

He slowed further still, stalking along quietly as he spotted the herd of deer once more. There was no way he would go back to Robbie with three measly eggs; he was getting himself one of those deer.

He made his way to one of the does once more, getting as close as he dared without alerting them, keeping his eyes on the ground to make sure he didn’t make a sound. Once he was near enough, he pressed himself against a nearby tree and sucked in a breath, steadying himself. He peered around the tree, took aim, and threw his spear quickly at his target.

He whooped for joy as the spear hit its mark and the deer promptly fell, crying out in pain. The rest of the herd took off once more, not looking back at their fallen friend. Dahvi quickly made his way to the deer who was now twitching and convulsing. He took his dagger from his hip, taking the liberty to end its life quickly. When the deed was done, he wiped the blood off on his pants before pocketing the dagger. He removed the spear from the deer and let it hang behind his back. He stood, then examined the deer with a frown. It was considerably larger than he was, bringing a new dilemma to mind; how in the name of Hylia was he supposed to bring the thing back to the lab?

#the lost hero #tlh #loz #botw #the legend of zelda #breath of the wild #tlh4 #fic #fanfic

[just-another-word-blogger]

So, I started writing this around this time last year and got halfway through and became completely uninterested and unmotivated and for whatever reason I felt like finishing it tonight. And I’m happy with it, I hope you all like it, it’s the only Harry-related thing I've ever written. Let me know what you think!

Summary: Harry thinks Y/N has a voice of a God.

3k+ words

DECEMBER 2015

Harry knew Y/N was destined for greatness. He knew it the moment he met her. He knew she would change the world one day.

And this was before he even heard her sing.

They had been together 3 months when he decided to surprise her one evening once he had arrived home after travelling with the boys.

He had come home one day earlier then he had originally planned. It wasn’t late, so she should’ve still been awake. He unlocked her front door with the key she had made for him before he climbed the stairs and heard the running water of her shower. And then, he heard her.

He paused for a moment to make sure he wasn’t hearing things, and when he realized it was in fact his beautiful girlfriend singing, he dropped his belongings on her bedroom floor and raced into the bathroom.

God, she was magnificent, so absolutely talented. “Never knew you could sing, love!” His sudden presence caused her to shriek out in fear. She quickly covered her naked body with her hands but relaxed when she saw her boyfriend standing in the door way, staring at her in what seemed to be complete awe.

“Harry! Jesus Christ! You scared the hell out of me!” She forced out a laugh, she was shaken up pretty good. Harry’s jaw was on the floor and his eyes were sparkling with complete adoration.

“You have a beautiful voice,” he couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across his face when he saw her shyly bow her head to look at the tiled floor. She turned the taps off and stepped out of the shower.

“It’s nothing really,” she reached for the towel on the rack, when he beat her to it, hiding it behind his back. “Harry c’mon,” she giggled.

“How come I never knew my girl was so talented hmm? Well, f’course I know you’re talented, but love, you truly have an amazing voice.” They were both smiling like idiots now. He stepped closer to her so there was not as much distance between them, not even minding that he was getting himself wet since she was still dripping wet from her shower, before he looked into her eyes, she was so beautiful. He was about to lean in when she whispered a soft, “I’m cold.”

With that he quickly wrapped her up in the towel he had been keeping from her and picked her up and threw her over his shoulder causing her to squeal. Through cute giggles they both released, he carried her over to the bed, putting her down onto her back, kissing down her neck and along her shoulder blades that were still soaking wet.

He was hovering above her, placing soft, innocent kisses all over her face, when he stopped and gazed into her eyes again, pushing her wet hair off of her face. “Do you have any idea how much I love you, baby?”

Smiling, she gently grabbed his face in her hands and brought his lips to hers. After a kiss that seemed to last forever, she whispered back, “not nearly as much as I love you.” With another kiss to her lips he looked down and in between their bodies, wagging his eyebrows up and down suggestively, which caused her to giggle again, before he slowly pulled off the towel that was loosely covering her figure and discarded it on the floor.

“I’m so glad you’re back.”

…

April 2016

Harry would not let Y/N forget about how he caught her singing that night. He begged and begged for her to, “Pretty please sing for me angel. Want to hear you sing again, please.” But she always refused. Y/N was always shy when it came to Harry; he made her weak in the knees all the damn time.

After ages of begging he would eventually give up only to ask her again later on.

Then on one fateful day, he managed to catch her singing once again.

She was cleaning their now shared home, just a casual tidy to keep her entertained while Harry was running errands around town. She had her earphones in and was singing her heart out, pouring all her emotion into the song.

What she didn’t realize however, was her sneaky boyfriend recording her. She turned herself and the vacuum she was using around, bumping smack bang into him.

“Oh! Hey baby. You just love sneaking up on me, don’t you?” Y/N giggled, cheeks heating up at the thought of him hearing her belting out a Michael Jackson song at the top of her lungs. She noticed him not-so-subtly exit out of his camera app on his phone. She looked up to meet his eyes that clearly told her he was hiding something and she watched as he tried to get rid of the smile forming on his lips, that was when she clicked. “No! You didn’t!”

“I did,” he cheeks, dimples popping. She goes to snatch his phone out of his hands but Harry bolts to the staircase, bounding up the stairs two at a time laughing his high-pitched hyena laugh with Y/N hot on his heels chasing after him and yelling, “You’re gonna get it Styles! I mean it!” Using his long legs as an advantage Harry makes it up the stairs with enough time to hide before she catches up. He runs into their bedroom and tucks himself in behind the door awaiting her arrival.

Not long after, Y/N comes running into the room only to be pounced on and knocked clean off her feet and onto the bed. He dives straight in and tickles her sides until she’s struggling to breathe and she’s turning red. She thrashes underneath him and tries to shove him off ultimately failing. Once he finally decides to stop she lets out a gargled moan as she tries to regain her breath. The sound however seems to go straight to his head, or more accurately, his cock, as it sounds rather similar to the noises she makes while he’s in between her legs.

Harry hovers over her, both of them panting like crazy as he shifts his thigh ever so slightly so it comes in contact with her core. She lets out another slight moan and looks up to meet his now lust-filled gaze.

“Are you really going to use sex as a way out of this?” she asks, sounding as firm as she can, trying to hide the fact that his previous action has her a bit riled up.

“Maybe,” he mumbles lowly, grinding his thigh against her once again, this time harder, causing her to moan loudly and he attaches his lips to her jaw, sucking on the skin.

“Well get on with it then.” And that he does, Harry hastily pulls of her clothing, discarding them all around the room in a quick attempt to get to her. Without warning he plunges two fingers into her tight, leaking hole, smirking to himself because she’s completely soaked, and only from a grind of his thigh against her.

“Oh my-Harry!” She cries, hand flying down to clasp around his that is moving in and out of her at lightning speed. Using his other hand, he grabs both of hers in one swift movement pinning them above her head. She’s on the verge of tears, and she’s never been so close to finishing so fast in her life.

“No touching,” Harry growls, bending down so he can suck on her clit, quite roughly. Once she alerts him that she’s, “so close baby-uh-oh my god feels so good!” The cheeky shit bites down gently on her clit and she lets out a scream in pleasure. She’s letting go all over his fingers, shaking and crying and Harry loves it. Loves seeing her like this, she’s so perfect he thinks.

He gives her no time to recover before he grabs her hips and flips her onto her stomach, causing her to let out a muffled huff. Harry is hard beyond belief, he’s surprised his cock hasn’t ripped through his shorts yet. He smacks her cute bum once before standing up to hastily rid himself of his clothing.

Y/N is still out of breath, feeling out of this world, the stars only just starting to disappear from her view. Harry crawls back on the bed and lifts her butt in the air, leaving a wet kiss on the now red cheek.

“Ready baby? Gonna fill ya so good,” he growls, voice deep and husky, hands firmly on her hips, sure to leave bruises. She lets out an urgent, “yes! Oh god yes!” before he slams into her so hard she falls forward. Head pushed back into the pillows on their bed. Both groaning in utter pleasure. “Fuck Princess! You’re so fuckin tight-how are you this tight baby? Suffocating Daddy’s cock, feels so good and snug-uh.”

Y/N has tears streaming down her face now, she’s on cloud nine. “Oh! You’re so deep, how-uh! I’m gonna cum! Oh my God! Oh my-!”

“Not far behind ya baby,” with that he lets out a deep guttural moan and shoots his load in her tight pussy, her letting go also. Harry pulls out with a groan from them both, before eating all of their juices from inside her, she shrieks at this, hand flying behind her to thread her fingers through his locks. Moaning so filthily she could put a pornstar to shame.

Once he’s finally done, he pops off her licking his lips and muttering a quiet, “yummy,” before crawling beside her and bringing her limp body flushed against his.

“That was new,” she manages to squeak out, causing him to giggle.

“What can I say love? Your voice does things to me,” he smiles into her hair, kissing her neck, “Does this mean I’m off the hook?”

She’s silent for a moment, thinking it over before letting out a quiet, “Nope.”

Harry smirks.

***

It’s nearing 9:00pm and boy, were they exhausted. You name any place in that house, they did it there. They would have done it at least 6 more times after the first round, Harry on a mission to make her forget the video, and maybe even her own name.

He took her in the shower, bent her over the kitchen bench and even had his way with her on their balcony for the whole city to see. They were recovering in the living room in the pillow fort they had built, the only thing covering their bodies being a thin bed sheet.

She’s resting her head on his chest, listening to his erratic heart-beat and drawing on the exposed skin of his tummy while he softly plays with her hair while whispering sweet nothings into her ear.

“You’re gonna be the death of me one of these days,” he whispers and chuckles lightly, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

“You love me,” she smiles warmly up at him, shifting her head to look him in the eyes to see them full of love and admiration that she surely mirrors.

“My God love, ya have no idea.” She snuggles back into his chest pressing small, open-mouthed kisses over his skin, receiving a hum of pleasure from him before she straddles his torso. She kisses all over his beautiful stomach all the while grinding down onto him. The sounds he was making were like music to her ears.

He quickly grabs her wrists that were resting on his chest whilst she left marks on his abdomen, before flipping her over onto her back attacking her neck with his lips, capturing the skin between his teeth before muttering a quiet, “Absolutely no idea,” before gripping her hips and filling her up for the 7th time in the last few hours.

***

July 2017

“Finally!” Harry rejoices as he places his and Y/N’s luggage onto the ground and proceeds to throw himself onto their living room couch, sighing in appreciation of the familiar comfort. “S’good to be home.” Y/N follows suit and situates herself on the recliner humming in agreement, almost instantly dozing off.

“S’cuse me miss, what do you think you’re doin?” Harry laughs as he walks over to where she’s now laying on the recliner.

“Tired,” is all she can muster, Harry was hoping to get a bit of loving in since they were so restricted back in Jamaica, well they did manage to sneak in a few rounds every now and then when his mates were asleep or out of the house, but he was excited to get inside of her in the comfort of their own home without having to remind her to be, “quiet for me baby, you can do it,” but seeing his girl so wrecked just makes his heart swell and fills him with a want and need to make her as comfortable as he possibly can.

“Okay pet,” he replies quietly, kissing the top of her head before pulling her into his arms. He carefully walked up the stairs to their bedroom where he laid her down gently and removed her shoes. After tucking her in, he gave her one last kiss on the forehead before leaving her to rest and recover from their crazy vacation, looking at her and smiling to himself as he closes their bedroom door behind him.

Harry is still gob smacked after nearly 2 years as to how the hell he managed to be the lucky man who got to call Y/N his own, the man who got to sleep next to her every night, the man who had the privilege of making love to her, the man who was able to proudly tell people that he and Y/N Y/L/N were without a doubt, madly in love.

He obviously did something right to deserve her. Harry can remember the exact moment he met her all those years ago.

***

September 2015

One Direction is due to go on hiatus soon and the boys are out celebrating Niall’s 22nd birthday. He decided just to keep it casual instead of booking an entire venue for all of his friends and family. Niall thought clubbing with the boys at his favorite club would be a simple yet fun way to celebrate the big 2-2.

They’re having a great night, taking shot after shot enjoying the music. Soon later, after a few too many drinks the four of them are out on the dancefloor. Liam, Louis and Niall busting a groove all the while Harry – who is absolutely blind drunk at this point - is going wild; showing off some horrid moves you could only tolerate if you knew and loved Harry like the boys did.

During one particular wild move Harry accidently bumps someone resulting in that someone and Harry to fall clean on their arses. He registers that it is a woman he’s knocked down once he hears what he presumes to be crying. After he blinks away the dots temporarily restricting his vision he immediately turns to the stranger beside him and lets out a slur of sincere apologies, absolutely freaking out, the last thing he planned for tonight was to injure some poor, innocent woman who just minding her own business. He gently pulls her to face him, and to his relief, finds that she’s laughing her head off and is in fact, not crying.

“M’so so sorry,” his voice is filled with genuine guilt as he stands up to then help her, watching her closely in case she is injured, “M’such a dick, are you alright? Didn’t hurt ya?” When he pulls her back up onto her feet he sees her trying to catch her breath, wiping away the tears that have formed from her manic laughing. That’s when he sees how beautiful she is for the first time.

“No, I should be apologizing,” she continues to laugh, “this is why I don’t dance, the one time I do, I knock some poor fellow off his bloody ends.”

He laughs hard at this; realizing it’s been a while since someone’s made him laugh so hard, “No love, I knocked you. M’sure your dancing was great.” He tucks a piece of stray hair behind her ear, and looks into her bloodshot eyes, quickly noticing she’s just as drunk as he is.

“Oh, well that’s good- Oh my God I love this song! Come with me!” She grabs Harry’s arm and tugs him to the middle of the dancefloor where they remain for the remainder of the night, dancing horribly – turned out she was pretty bad at dancing and nearly as bad as he was, nearly though - and screaming their lungs out to the blaring music until the A.M.

Harry made sure not to leave that club without her number in his phone, and her safely in a cab on her way home before leaving with the boys.

“Made a new tonight did ya Harry?” Liam laughs elbowing Harry in the ribs causing Louis and Niall let out a few snickers.

“Yeah, actually. Think I did.”

It’s safe to say that Harry fell in love with her the moment he laid eyes on Y/N, but that’s something he will never admit to her because he knows she’d give him a shove and tell him how cheesy it sounded. But it’s true, and he did.

***

Harry was scrolling through his photos from Jamaica later that night, as his girl was snuggled beside him, she’d slept the whole afternoon only to get up to shower to freshen up from the long flight, before falling back to asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow again.

He had taken many photos of the scenery in Jamaica - it is such a marvelous place, he promised to take Y/N there again sometime so they can properly explore it since the majority of the time they were there he was recording his new album - but most of his camera roll was filled with pictures of her. She just looked so beautiful all the damn time; he couldn’t help himself he just had to take as many pictures as he could.

He’s endlessly scrolling when he comes across a video he doesn’t remember recording, he turns down the volume before hitting the play button. He’s not sure what he was expecting to watch but it definitely isn’t what he sees or hears.

His love’s voice comes out of his phone speakers beautifully as he watches the video on the screen. He and Y/N are clearly drunk and are out on the beach. The moon hanging large in the sky behind her as she sings Sign of The Times so incredibly he begins to tear up.

How the hell did he forget he took this? How the hell did he manage to take this without Y/N getting mad at him and forcing him to delete the footage?

He must have watched it 100 times. Harry’s in awe that this woman keeps her voice to herself, and he’s almost disappointed that people don’t get to hear how beautifully she sings. Well, yeah it’s nice to have some secrets that you keep to yourself, but this kind of secret was one that should definitely not be kept private.

He knows he shouldn’t, he knows very darn well that he shouldn’t, but he’s Harry he can’t help himself, her talent needs to be shared, people don’t know what they’re missing is how he justifies his next action.

With a press of a button, Y/N’s video is out on the internet for the entire world to see, captioned, ‘My love. X’

It’s just an innocent post on his Instagram of his wonderful girlfriend, right? No harm done.

No way could Harry have anticipated what would happen next.

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff

[otomebois-bb]

Sunflower🌻

(Saeran Choi & MC)

Quick note: originally, I wrote this with the song Sunflower (by Post Malone) in mind, but then I looked up the meaning of sunflowers and decided to go with that instead. I put the meaning of the flower in bold. It starts off as angst, and ends as fluff. Enjoy!

*Spoilers: slight spoiler(s) about Ray's route in the very beginning*

~~~~

"You're useless."

"You can easily be replaced."

"You're just a toy."

"Once you leave this place, I'll be much happier."

His cruel words circulated through my mind like poisonous venom seeping into my veins, slowly eating away at my sanity. I stood by the window, longingly staring at the full moon and wishing that my confidence still shined as bright as it did — yet, the longer I was here, the longer I endured nasty words being thrown at me, the more I wilted, like a flower deprived of sunlight and water.

My stomach grumbled hungrily, and I sighed, turning my gaze to the door of my room. When Ray disappeared, Saeran refused to let anyone but himself enter, refused to let me leave the room, even refused to feed me — however, recently, V had been risking his very life to secretly leave food by my door; a gesture I greatly appreciated even though it put him in harm's way. He didn't do so often since it was too dangerous, but when he did, he tried to leave me a generous amount to last me until the next time he brought food. Sadly though, Saeran of course found out (though he didn't seem to know it was V's doing), and increased the amount of watchful eyes around my room to ensure it didn't happen again. Though his method was successful, I tried to be hopeful V would come back — but that hope was another thing in me that was slowly deteriorating.

My eyes welled up, and I glanced back out the window, trying to focus on the moon's beauty rather than the ugliness of my thoughts. It worked, at first...

However, the quiet sound of the door opening didn't fail to catch my attention since my senses were on hyper alert. My eyes, widening, immediately shifted in its direction, but upon realising it wasn't Saeran, I calmed down; only slightly though, because the hooded figure that entered, shutting the door behind them, wasn't someone I recognised.

I sighed. "Do you need something?"

The person spoke harshly, with a deep male's voice: "Not from you." He slowly stepped closer to me.

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Then why are you here? I thought no one but Saeran was allowed to come in..."

He stopped about a foot away from me, more or less. That's when I noticed he was holding something behind his back, and my confusion only grew more. "I'm aware that I'm not supposed to be here. However, you've become a distraction to Mr. Saeran, and everyone — except me — seems too afraid of him to do anything about it, so..." He lifted his arm, and I heard a soft click; he'd been hiding a gun, and just cocked it, ready to pull the trigger with the weapon aimed at my forehead. I could see the psychotic grin on his face in the moonlight as he announced, "I've come to get rid of you myself. If I kill you, perhaps that boy will finally show the Saviour some good results of the tasks he's been given. Any last words?"

For a moment, I merely stared at the gun, debating if it was even worth fighting him to live. My shoulders sank as I decided it wasn't — Saeran wasn't Ray; he didn't care about my health or happiness the way Ray had, so what was the point? This Believer was probably right — with me out of the way, it seemed likely Saeran would make more progress since I wouldn't be around for him to complain about. He didn't like anything about me; hell, he despised my very existence. Why would he care whether I lived or died?

Finally, I sighed, and simply whispered, "Do it."

His smirk stretched wider, and I shut my eyes while he replied with an excitement in his voice, "Gladly."

Before he could pull the trigger, though, someone loudly banged on the door. Startled by the sound, my eyes snapped open — in time to notice the man in front of me jump in surprise, his arm lowering to my stomach...

And a gunshot sounded.

Suddenly, everything was moving in a blurry slow motion. The door slammed open, revealing a figure that vaguely resembled Saeran. Seeming to panic in his presence, the Believer jumped out of the window behind me, the sound of glass shattering and the gun hitting the floor ringing in my ears. I reached down with both hands to clutch my stomach, and when I brought them into my view, the sight of the dark redness painting them caused the pain to finally register, and my legs, no longer able to support my weight due to the overwhelming faintness I felt, gave out beneath me. My head hit the soft carpet, my eyes staring blankly ahead, my breaths being taken in sharply and rapidly. A moment later, I barely felt my body being moved, and the blurry features of Saeran's face entered my eyesight. He seemed to be shouting my name, and I could make out enough of his face to notice the concerned and desperate expression he wore, and it seemed like he might've been crying as well.

The last thing I could remember before going unconscious was the light feeling of being picked up and carried somewhere at a brisk pace — and a single question repeating in my thoughts:

Why?

~~~~

A grandfather clock ticked painfully loud, and grew louder as the image of it became clearer and closer in front of my eyes. Everything around me was shrouded in darkness, including my own body — everything except that damned clock. The hour hand drew closer to the twelve as the ticking continued, seeming to move slowly yet alarmingly quick at the same time.

Finally, the hour hand reached the twelve, and a jarring chime blared out. At the sound, my eyes shot open, and I instinctively tried to sit up, only to cry out in pain and fall back onto the mattress I'd been resting on. The pain flared throughout my body, stemming from my stomach, and it was then I realised my surroundings were completely unfamiliar: the walls were made out of wood... a cabin house?

The only things I could feel was the pain and confusion.

What happened? Where am I?

I was instantly reminded when Saeran rushed to my side, looking different from how I've ever seen him before; his hair much messier than it was the last time I saw him, the bags under his mint green eyes darker, and his clothes were both different and disheveled — black pants and a plain white button-up. "Are you okay?!" he asked, both frantic and rushed.

Oh, right...

The Believer. The gun, originally aimed at my head. Saeran's loud, angry knocking. How his knocking had caused the Believer's aim to shift from the shock, and... the gunshot. Saeran's sudden, surprising concern.

Analysing the little details on Saeran's face, such as his darkened bags and slightly red, puffy eyes... showed that his concern was so genuine, he'd actually been crying and losing sleep (more so than before) because of it.

Again the question presented itself: Why?

Realising I was staring while he was awaiting an answer from me, I hesitantly replied, "I-I'm okay." His face scrunched up, not seeming to buy my response and possibly expecting a better reply, so I elaborated, "I mean, my stomach really hurts, and I'm kinda confused, but otherwise I'm okay."

Saeran only became more puzzled, it seemed, at my words. "Confused? Oh. Right. You probably noticed that this isn't the Magenta building. I didn't think it would be smart to keep you there after what happened; so I brought you here to tend to your wound, and watch over you." He averted his eyes, continuing, "I managed to dig the bullet shell out and stitched up the wound the best I could before bandaging it. You've been unconscious for a little over two days though, and I was starting to worry..." His voice trailed off, and he turned his gaze back to me, a mixture of emotions flashing through his face as he seemed to be deep in thought.

"Uh, I mean, I was wondering about that, too, but that wasn't exactly what I meant..." I glanced down at my lap, awkwardly scratching an itchy spot on my cheek.

"What are you talking about?"

I inhaled, shut my eyes, and explained, "Well, you know, ever since your uh, Ray persona left, you've been a bit... rude. So I guess I don't understand why, after that, you'd care about me."

I expected an outburst from the white-haired man; whether it was as small as yelling at me, or as big as using violence against me.

But instead, Saeran was dead silent. When I finally opened my eyes, I saw why — his mint green orbs were wide with shock. However, soon after he noticed my staring, he seemed to pick up on my hidden fear of him, and his expression immediately shifted to one that I recognised all too well — regret. To my surprise, his eyes quickly watered, spilling over his cheeks at an alarming rate, and he placed his head down, hiding his face with his arms as heart-wrenching sobs overtook him.

"S-Saeran?" I called softly, my hand instinctively reaching out to smoothen his hair, but I stopped myself before it touched him. My hand hovered over his head in hesitation. Would touching him worsen or better the situation? I wasn't sure.

I decided to risk it though, allowing my hand to gently drop. As my fingers combed through his soft, messy locks, I couldn't really tell if I was calming him down or making him cry more. Eventually, he lifted his head slowly, his tearful eyes refusing to look at me, and my heart ached. My hand naturally slid down to cup his cheek, my thumb lightly brushing away his tears. He hesitated before his own hand reached up to press mine closer to his face.

"Saeran–"

"Don't," he snapped, but his tone wasn't intimidating nor rude. He sounded... more broken, than anything else. He sighed, and, seeming to put thought into his words rather than spitting them out, he muttered, "I've been thinking a lot since... that incident. I don't think I ever truly meant what I said to you. I think... it was more of a defense mechanism." He glanced over for a second to take in my confused expression, then continued, "I'm not sure if I told you this myself — you might've heard it from V — but when we were younger, Saeyoung, who you know as seven-zero-seven, mysteriously and randomly vanished from my side without a word. He was — is — my other half; my twin brother. I never knew why he left. My Saviour — err, Rika, told me that he'd abandoned me. She drugged and brainwashed me into believing that the brother I looked up to and loved so much... actually just abandoned me. She told me it was because I was weak, and worthless to him... and I believed her.

"I believed her when she told me V was the bad person. I believed her when she said she'd make me strong if I followed her. Every word she said, I believed..." I was beginning to feel sad myself, and Saeran noticed. He hesitantly held my face in his hands, so gently, it seemed he was afraid I'd shatter into pieces like glass. "I think... I treated you poorly because I was scared you'd do the same: leave without saying anything. I tried, so hard, to convince myself that I was being mean to you because you truly meant nothing to me; but that wasn't true. There was no way that could ever be true. I only did it out of fear; I was so afraid that if I continued to treasure you, you'd turn your back on me. And I desperately wanted to avoid that. But I realise now that what I did was wrong. And I regret it." He sighed. "I don't expect you to ever forgive me. My actions were very unforgivable. But I'm eternally sorry for everything. I'd like to prove myself to you that I can — no, that I will be better, if only you'd give me the chance to..."

At the end, his voice trailed off as he started to cry again, his tears coming more slowly this time. With a few tears in my own eyes, I whispered, "Saeran... of course I forgive you."

"Why?" he asked immediately; but it sounded more like a statement than a question.

Again he was avoiding my eyes, so I softly requested, "Saeran, please look at me." Hesitantly, he did, and I smiled sadly. "I forgive you because you didn't know how to properly handle your emotions. I don't think that's your fault at all — if anything, Rika's the one to blame. From what you and V have told me, it seems like she forced you to follow her every word, to stay by her side and blindly trust her like a lost puppy. You never had anyone to show you how to deal with various emotions in a healthy way — and your past only amplified that. So yes, I forgive you, and of course I'll give you a chance to be better, because I know you won't ever disappoint me. You have so much potential, Saeran, and I know you'll live up to it."

Saeran's jaw was slightly hanging, yet there was such an adoration in his eyes, I couldn't help but giggle at his oddly cute expression. Seeming to recollect himself at the sound, he shut his mouth and swiftly reached over, pulling me into his arms. The quick motion caused me to wince in pain, and he immediately let go. "Sorry..."

I merely laughed again. "It's okay." I opened my arms to him, and he didn't hesitate to embrace me, this time gently. I rested my chin on top of his head, his soft hair tickling my neck, and I let one hand lay securely on his back, holding him to me, while the other played with his hair and smoothened it.

For a silent, comfortable moment, we simply enjoyed each other's warmth. Then, he pulled away slightly, staring into my eyes with such a deep intensity, I blushed — and he only made that blush worse by stating with absolute certainty, "I love you."

My first instinct was to say it back, but when I couldn't find my voice, I resorted to gripping the collar of his shirt and tugging him close enough so I could kiss him. He seemed shocked at first, like he had been the very first time I'd ever kissed him — however, this time he wasn't flustered to the point of running away. In fact, he let a small smile creep onto his lips, and gently slid a hand into my hair (which was no doubt messy and tangled) as he returned my kiss. He broke it shortly after, a look in his eyes hinting he'd kiss me more if it weren't for my current situation; his smile cute and innocent. "Rest up. I'll bring you some soup if you're hungry."

"Please do." He nodded, and stood to exit. Before he walked out, I called to him, "I love you, Saeran."

Saeran turned his head with the most endearing smile on his face. "I love you too, princess~."

~~~~

A couple months later.

With Saeran's help, my wound healed rather quickly. When I was well enough, he gave me back my phone. Upon opening the RFA app, I went through a number of the chatrooms I'd missed, noticing that everyone was worried not only for me but for Saeran as well — which, to my surprise, was because V came clean about Mint Eye and Saeran, and even mentioning Rika (probably because he realised there was no way around it); saying he was only bringing it all to their attention after hearing the gunshot and seeing Saeran run out of the building, carrying me (unconscious at that point) in his arms with blood on my hands and seeping through the dark material of the black dress I was wearing. Saeyoung was the most shocked about Saeran, while Yoosung was most shocked about Rika.

After reading though everything, I entered the chatroom since everyone was present and worrying like crazy — which only increased at my sudden reappearance. I told them I was okay, my wound was healing, and (before Saeyoung even asked) Saeran was also okay and watching over me.

I kept updating them as I healed, and, once I'd almost made a full recovery, managed to convince Saeran to meet up with the RFA (V included) and reunite with his brother — which was surprisingly easier than I'd thought. With his approval, I'd sent Saeyoung our current coordinates, allowing him to grab us and be the first one to see both myself and Saeran.

The twins had a touching reunion when he finally arrived at the scene. Lots of tears were shed from all three of us, and it was difficult to determine who cried the most. Saeyoung first hugged Saeran, telling him how happy he was to see him again, alive and well — and then he embraced me, careful of my still healing wound, repeatedly thanking me for helping his brother escape Rika's toxic clutches, which allowed them to meet again.

Soon after, Saeran joined the RFA, Rika was caught and Mint Eye was shut down, and I had fully recovered from the gunshot wound.

It was June eleventh — the twins' birthday. Saeyoung suggested the RFA celebrate it by having a picnic in a field of flowers since he'd come to discover Saeran's love and knowledge of flowers. I decided to wear something simple yet beautiful — a plain white sun dress with a bit of lace and a nice twirl when I spun. Saeyoung wore a black button-up shirt and jeans, and Saeran wore the same, but with a white shirt instead. The moment Saeran saw me and took in my appearance, a small blush and a warm smile appeared in his face.

Saeyoung had asked Jumin to find the "finest field of flowers you have!" (his words, not mine) to make Saeran happy, and Jumin certainly came through. When we arrived, Saeran and I shared a look of awe, which V noticed and gave us a slight smile — the field was as breathtaking (if not more so) as the garden Saeran had tended to at Mint Eye.

Saeran's eyes instantly lit up at the sight of all the flowers, and, after taking it all in, he took my hand and ran towards it, with me giggling as he pulled me along. Thankfully I'd chosen simple Greek-style flats — they were gold and had straps that snaked up my legs, those and the lack of a heel preventing the shoes from slipping off my feet.

Eventually, he stopped to pick some flowers — two tall sunflowers. He turned, not dropping my hand, and held them out to me with an adoring smile. Taking them with a warm smile on my face, I asked, "Saeran, what's the meaning behind sunflowers?"

His smile grew, and I could tell from the twinkle in his eyes that he was eager to answer my question. "The sunflower... means adoration, loyalty, and longevity. They also represent the sun, if that wasn't obvious from the name. They're known for being happy flowers, too. So I wanted to give you these for a while... because I adore you, and I long for you, and I'm going to be loyal to you, and most of all I want you to be happy."

I beamed. "That's beautiful. I'm happy thanks to you, Saeran." I paused to stare at the flowers in my hand, then offered one back to him. "I should give you one too. I feel the same about you."

"Oh, no, it's okay, you don't–"

"But I want to," I interrupted, "because you deserve it. I love you, Saeran. Happy birthday."

Saeran's face was absolutely stricken with love, from his wide smile, to his glimmering eyes. He leaned down to kiss me, and stated, after breaking the kiss, "I love you more, princess. Thank you... thank you for everything."

~~~~ END. ~~~~

#saeran choi #mysme saeran #mm saeran #mystic messenger #fanfic