#greatest hits: joking and jesting.

[fallout4-reacts]

How would the companions feel about a SS with a really slow reaction time, like taking a moment to get a joke, having trouble avoiding hits from weapons, etc

It certainly took me a long time… (I had a slow reaction lmfao) I admit that, unlike many others, my creative side suffers when I live too many things… not fun. I persist, though,  I don't let you down, which is why I maintain the Masterlist up to date. So this is a slow reacting Sole. Nick may have something here.

Cait : It was manageable as long as they stayed close to the Boston ruins.

In general.

Cait was conscious that Sole seemed a little light at times, but nothing too significant. Anyway, a few psycho shots here and there, and Cait had lost interest.

But things didn't always go as planned. A gunner with a happy trigger and Sole looks left and right before understanding they're being shot. Or the raiders who mocked Sole for 10 minutes before Cait grew mad. And Sole remained there, attempting to comprehend what had just been stated to them, before exploding with wrath as if they had only recently arrived in town.

"Eh! You are not business owners! You are thugs attempting to rob me!"

Cait palmfaces herself before smashing the last with her baseball bat.

"They didn't put an Assaultron's processor in your terminal, did they?"

Sole offers her an empty stare. Then the realization dawns on them: "Oh, you did notice?" They appear to be embarrassed by it.

Cait places a confident hand on their shoulder. "No need to fret, I've got the quick deals covered from here on out. But ya, listen up. Pull out the weapon if I tell ya it’s spurts. Otherwise, I reckon the Commonwealth ain't gonna have enough stimpacks to handle whatever you decide to catch as a bullet."

Cait's words appear to have encouraged Sole. They make the decision to blindly believe the fighter. May the Gods help the commonwealth.

Codsworth : It's nothing new for the butler. Nate had done an excellent job of preparing him. It's a tragedy to request Sole for an addition by adding a division. It's better to also remove the nuances. The innuendo? The greatest way to see them on the mat for two days, contemplating what they had missed.

He travels with Sole in this post-apocalyptic world, attempting to get rid of any problems of this kind. "They shoot at us, mother/sir." - "This man offends you, Sole." - "They ask if you don't have some caps so he can eat."

Then they save this wretched detective. Things are getting really complicated now. This synth has a habit of speaking in Innuendo and Sole bugs so frequently that the domestic robot ends up takin the other apart for a little talk.

"Very well, let us establish this clearly. It's not the swiftest contraption on the circuit, sir/madam. But they are not imbeciles, and you must cease treating them as such."

Nick appears astonished. "I ain't one who regards 'em as fools!" He exclaims.

"Do kindly cease with the innuendo and diminutive inside jests, if you please. Most importantly, I hear you say once more: "Well, I shall conduct a diagnostic while you ingest this serpent’ I assure you, next occasion, I shall procure an authentic serpent to compel YOU to ingest."

Nick appears to be growing increasingly surprised. He has not a reputation for making fun of others, and he didn't feel like it. He would make a remark or two about the speed with which Sole absorbed the information, but he didn't think he'd been impolite. He assures the butler that he would pay more attention in the future, attempting to discover the simplest and most direct method to communicate with Sole.

Curie : Curie had plenty of time to think about it before finally releasing her truster from her century-old jail. Every piece of information appears to take ten years to gather. Surprisingly, it does. It reminds Curie of one of those terminals that always appears to take longer to digest the information than the others, but at least it gets in. Curie recognises that she must be patient. Then, as they make their way to the vault, one of the damned molerats who escaped them leaps upon Sole's neck. Curie reacts quickly and extracts it from the poor human, burning it to ashes. However, it is too late. Sole is most likely contaminated.

"Oh, dear, what shall we do, my good sir/madam?”

"How about a stimpack?"

"However, this affliction! There was but a solitary opportunity! Only one dose!"

Sole frowns. They remain frozen for an extended period of time. Curie tries to assist them.

"The dosage that you shall administer unto the child.”

"The dose that...yes, I'll gave the child the cure." They appear enlightened, proud to keep up the conversation.

"But then, how shall you indulge yourself?”

"With the help of a stimpack."

"But, for the molerat's decease!"

"Ah!" Sole shrugs, "we have to save the child."

"Are you still committed to the noble cause of rescuing the child?"

"What would you do in this situation?"

"I remember you I am a Contagions Vulnerability Robotic Infirmary Engineer, impervious to any form of affliction.”

Sole scratched their head, trying to figure out how to connect the dots. Curie leads them forward, not wanting to loiter too long. "It matters not to comprehend it right now, for we shall ascertain in due course.”

Then, as they set up camp on the outskirts of Boston at night, Sole burst into tears unexpectedly. Curie hurried.

"Goodness gracious, what in the world is happening?"

"I have an incurable disease!"

Curie then experiments with what appears to be human irritation.

Danse : He encourages this civilian to come into the police station and get some equipment. Sole stands there, tapping their hands.

"Civilian, I have instructed you to ready yourself for our imminent mission."

"OK, OK. I'm getting ready...um, but what exactly do you mean by preparation?"

"We have surplus purified water, ammunition, rad-away, rad-x, take anything you might need."

Sole joyfully approaches the counter that shows Danse. They already know that this post-apocalyptic environment doesn't have many of these fortune, so it's a tremendous gift to be offered.

Then Rhys exclaims, "Catches fast!"

Sole receives a can of water behind their head before they can figure out what's going on. They revolve slowly while stroking their neck.

"But, but..."

And Rhys do it again with two others cans who attack them like missiles. To say that Danse is catastrophed is an understatement.

"Rhys!" Heylan chastises. "How dare you?"

Rhys appears perplexed. "Wait, they don't have reflexes?"

Sole, embarrassed, picks up the three water cans that have fallen on the ground. Danse approaches his man.

"In any case, these circus act manners have no place in the Brotherhoods of Steel. And you should have known better than to continue after the first can."

Rhys lowers his head, embarrassed. "Sorry, Sole, but I won't do it again." He doesn't like this freelancer, but he also doesn't want to harm them.

Danse rumbles a little more before turning to Sole. "Are you all done?"

Sole puts their water in a bag. "Here it is, the water is tidy."

Danse raises his brow. "I mean, to prepare you."

"Oh!" Sole returned to the counter and grabbed whatever they believed might be useful. "Here it is, everything is tidy."

"Certainly…"

Danse walks to the door, thinking that a least, Sole have courage and a fine aim when it comes to killing abominations.

Deacon : "Oh, I do love self-deprecating humor, but I'm afraid I'm not very good at it." Deacon then busted up laughing.

Sole gives him an unsettled glance. "It's unfortunate for you not to be good at something you love."

"Oh no, wait, you don't understand." But Deacon, as brilliant as he is at making jokes, is uncomfortable explaining it. "What I meant was… that's what you see, self-deprecating humor…it's…"

"Oh, I just figured it out!" Sole laughs, "Oh, she's good!"

Deacon wipes his brow with relief. When it's too subtle, leave a cool-down. Got it.

Dogmeat : The good dog is ecstatic to be following his new master. Then the New Master and him gets at Concord. The New Master approaches one first raider as if it were a stroll through the park.

"Eh!" they exclaim. "Are you the one who threw sticks at my butler? That's not very nice!" 

Sole is shot by this first raider. They takes the round into their arms and, shocked, notices the injury. The dog leaps upon Sole's shoulders and slams them to the ground behind a low wall.

"But they're shooting at me!" Sole finally understands.

They then pull out their revolver and don't bother asking questions, much to Dogmeat's relief. Because they don't have a crumb of it, the good poop swears to devote all of his instincts to his New Master.

Elder Maxson : “…so I ask you to go down to the island and clean it up for me.”

“It’ll take more than a day! It’s ruins!”

Maxson looks at Sole in astonishment, to say the least. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, you mean, kill every stray! Okay, at your command."

While Sole turns their heels to the vertibirds, Maxson glances at Danse and whispers, "Good luck."

Danse nods. Fortunately, Sole is a good shooter…

Hancock : Sole remains frozen for an extended period of time. Nick is no longer harassed by the butler, but he recalls his admonition.

"Uh Hancock, meets Sole." He's attempting to figure out how to get things going.

"You just killed him?" Inquire the newbie.

“Yeah, he threatened me," the mayor replies.

"He made a threat against the mayor. And you invited him to come talk to you. And you murdered him."

"Sole, uh? You know who I am?”

"A ghoul that talks?"

Hancock shrugs his shoulders and casts a glance at Nick. He grins. "My young friend, I am the Mayor."

"Oh!" Sole appears to have finally grasped the concept. "So, yeah, killing him was preferable. I get it now."

"Oh, if I get it right, they didn't bother putting a ten speed in the damn box,” Hancock observes.

"But he's not stupid!" Stated Nick swiftly. "All you have to do is... give the information time to get to it. Even if the information is as deadly as a bullet in the back."

Hancock offers Nick a shocked expression. "Sorry?"

"When it shoots around, it's better to let Sole know, because if you expect a reflex, it's going to bleed."

"You're talking about me!" Sole said.

"Just the usual recommendations," Nick insists. "This world is… hard… and it often goes very fast."

"Too damn fast," Hancock grumbles. Sometimes, movin' at a pace that's just too damn quick for my likin'.”

"Oh, I can understand it so much!" Exclaims the newcomer. "It always seems to move too quickly for me."

Hancock gasps in laughter and hands them a Jet inhaler. "Listen up, brother/sister. 'Cause I gotta be honest, I already feel like I'm fallin' head over heels for ya. Grab this here, and if your can's hollering at ya, pop a solid dose. Ya gonna start noticin' that ya movin' faster than this here rock we call home, catches me?”

While Nick scolds, Sole pockets the gift with a wide smile.

"Not sure it's a good idea to fuck up the gray cells on top of that."

Hancock dismiss with a "pfff" sound. "It'll be a real sweet deal for 'em. And if the light's gone, I've got Mentats.”

Gage : "The water gun's stashed away in that there locker!"

"But how will a water gun help me against a power armor?"

"I done told ya it was a blasted power armor with one of them fancy electrical systems. Sending water is gonna fry those circuits faster than a molerat in a radstorm."

"Oh, I understand!"

Not too soon, Porter reasoned. He witnessed them in the Gauntlet when this dude/girl took shots like they couldn't feel pain, but if they were to play hot hand, Gage would surely want to take on them. He'd almost certainly win.

MacCready : "I take 200 tax caps when walking in irradiated water pools."

“I understand,” says Sole. Then they frowns and replies, "Wait a minute. Why would I pay you 200 caps extra for a wad of water you have to walk over every day?"

Mac chuckles. He will have attempted. They must not be taken in. Sole may be slow to get the point, but they can rationalize. Meanwhile, Mac's rifle has their back, and the person, they're not too bad of a boss.

Nick Valentine : He is relieved when the Butler announces that he is returning to Sanctuary and leaving Sole in the care of the detective. This robot has something threatening that he dislikes. Perhaps a tad overprotective for this poor soul, but it puts him on a tightrope. Nick realized what was going on pretty fast with Sole. You don't make little ironic jokes, or they will lose track of the subtlety. But he's genuine. He wishes to assist Sole. Sounds like a fine person who has seen too much in too short.

He swiftly takes the beat and realizes that when the balls start whistling, his priority is to put Sole away until the bug learns and pulls out their gun. Aside from that, after all the data is in, they are incredibly fine-tuned. If we give them enough time to think about it, they might make a great detective. They found this damned hit man's lair because, with all Nick threw at them as information, Sole drew out a profile that would impress colleagues.

"Some are in the box. Perhaps too much, which would explain why there are traffic jams?"

"Are there traffic jams? But there isn't a working vehicle, is there?"

Nick waits with his arms crossed.

"You mean in my head? Yes, I confess it. Thank you; this is the first time anyone has understood."

Nick gives a small smile. He genuinely likes Sole.

Piper : "I'm not a trader. Right now, I'm just trying to... understand and survive." 

Piper eyes widening.

"Shut! Just play along, I ask! Please!"

Sole gives the reporter a blank stare. "Play to what?"

Danny becomes impatient in the speaker. "Piper, what are you doing?"

Sole is now getting it. "Oh, I'm a trader from... Quincy? Yes, Quincy, I have a lot of... supplies."

Piper casts a glance at Sole but manages to improvise and eventually grants them admission. She moves her gaze to the new as the door opens.

"You're really something, eh? But thank you for participating."

"Yeah, sorry, sometimes I take a little time to understand…all the time."

The journalist's grin broadens. "No worries. Now that I know, come with me and I'll filter. Thank you once again."

With that, she finally enters her city, where she is met by a rather dreary mayor.

Preston : They must be a moron. They are standing there, about to be shot. Definitely an irradiated bulb moron.

Preston notices a dog rush on the newcomer and rescues them. He knows who Dogmeat is. He had no idea Dogmeat was taking desperate causes.

Then, whoa!

The new one returns and destroys everything! Some argue that you shouldn't make snap judgments. This individual is proof. The treats are down in less time than it takes Preston to fire three shots.

"Damn! Slow at first, but after... Hey! Over here, on the balcony!"

Strong : “Puny human strong. Puny human doesn't react to bullets”

“What bullets?”

“Puny human amazing! Puny human doesn’t feel pain?”

Sole suddenly seems to realize that they are being shot. They scream, turn to the mutant who targeted them, and burst his brain.

“Puny human… funny… Strong likes it."

For his part, Rex seems to think they are a simple mind. He tries to explain his mission to them, and the new one just stares at him with an empty expression. Then suddenly, the light was there.

"Teaching super mutants art! That might be a good idea."

“It could have, but it’s not.”

“But you convinced Strong.”

“In a way, yes.”

“Strong wants to find milk of human kindness.”

Sole looks at Strong for a long time, then nods.

"We’ll try, my friend. We’ll try."

Strong love Sole. 

X6-88 : "Why a recall code?"

"In order to... completely erase Gabriel's memory, I explained it to you."

"Yes, but why?"

With a heavy sigh, the Courser grips the bridge of his nose.

Standing up, Sole widens their eyes. "Oh! Because he defied the Institute, and you don't want that to happen again!"

"Indeed."

"I understand now!"

"It seems…"

He exhales another breath. Okay, left them time for some downtime. Every. Single. Time. X6 is capable of this... He'll have to do it one way or another.

#fallout 4 #fallout #fallout 4 companions #fo4 #fallout companions #fallout 4 reactions #fallout 4 react #sole survivor #danse #nick valentine #cait #piper wright #deacon #curie #fallout 4 curie #curie fo4 #dogmeat #deacon fo4 #deacon fallout #deacon fallout 4 #fallout 4 deacon #fallout deacon #fo4 deacon #fo4 danse #paladin danse #elder maxson #arthur maxson #codsworth #fallout maccready #rj maccready

[axos-abyss]

Hang Out (700ish words)

It’s been five minutes since I knocked to get my friends to let me in. I arrived ten minutes late, which was around fifteen minutes early with these guys. I considered opening a can of soda to pass the time. Right before I opened the container to dig out a can, I heard the door creek open.

With his usual smile, Roy opened the door and let me in. I pushed past him before he got to greet me because I never put down the sodas. I rushed to the kitchen and slammed them on the nearest counter. I heard a quick chuckle behind me as he said “Seems like somebody is in a hurry to watch their fantasy team score no points.”

I really did not give a rats' ass about the fantasy league they ran. It was only in our friend group, no money was wagered, and the scoring was a bastardized version of official scoring systems. Plus, I was more of a soccer guy myself anyway. Whenever it came around to drafting up a team, I just picked what I had to and kept moving on. The league didn’t matter to anyone really, it was just an excuse to hang out whenever we could.

Looking out from the kitchen, I saw that Shawn and Clint had already made themselves comfortable on the couch. They made sure to sit as far away from each other as possible, to minimize awkward contact, and to maximize the amount of time each of them had if the other decided they deserved to be hit. I decided to grab myself a bowl of assorted Chinese food and join them in my usual spot in the corner of the couch.

“Dude, Alex, what the fuck? Not even a hey or a howdy doo?” Roy jested as he walked over to the whiteboard we had set up, trying to be sneaky as he removed a couple of points from Shawn’s team. 

The other two were occupied with the touchdown that just happened, so I had a few seconds to think of a response. Instead of anything witty, I simply admitted, “I was never told to, and when did you ever care about a proper greeting?” 

“Alex, saying hi is not a proper greeting, it’s basic human procedure you machine.” Shawn said, butting in. He had the usual straight face to try and fool me that he was being serious, forgetting to watch his tone. It only lasted a few seconds, because Shawn could not hold that face for more than a few seconds before bursting out laughing.

Right then, everything felt more real than it usually does. The plunge into self awareness always left me a little shocked, but I have gotten used to it over time. I quickly look to my right, and follow the strings that are attached to me. My head always follows them from where they end in my neck, to the hands they come from. I move my head slightly up, and stare myself in the face. 

He is sitting over by the table we usually have our post-game chats at, slightly hunched over. I can see the whiteboard that is supposed to be next to Roy hung up on the wall, with a season's worth of information written on it. I stare at him for a few seconds, waiting for him to check over his shoulders, to notice his strings that led to the doorway. My greatest fears come true, as he never does. My eyes tear up a little bit. 

“Alex buddy, you get burned so bad you lose all your brain cells or something?” asks Clint, as I am snapped back to reality. The exit of those moments is always physically easier, but never mentally.

I simply turn to him and my mouth apologizes, saying that I thought I spotted a fly. I crack a quick joke and say to get back to the game, because I just want to move on and not stay on the subject. I notice out loud that my quarterback, whatever his name is, just made an amazing play. Everyone else nods and makes a couple more remarks as they turn their heads to enjoy the game.

#flash fiction #creative writing #short story #first time posting something I wrote online #gruhg

[aelinbitch-archive]

girls be like “i know a spot” and then poison you and leave you in the desert so they can betray the silent assassins and retake the western wastes

#greatest hits: joking and jesting.

[wizkiddx]

stop caring

yooo, so this is actually taken out of one of the sort of I guess series-esque things I’ve written, but it kinda just got shit at the end so I've given up and just wanted to post this instead. So sorry if some of the backstory isn't that clear or anything

tomhollandxfamous!reader

Summary: after your break up you bump into tom at a charity event and when shit hits the fan personally for you, someone who understands you is really what you need (angsty!!! maybe a bit of fluff too?)

TW: panic/anxiety attacks + mentions of assault

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3 months. 3 months you’d managed to avoid the boy that had given you the most joy in the previous years. 3 months without your best friend; of even when you’re with company feeling like a part of you was just absent. 

And you had been thriving. Well… that’s what everyone thought. That’s what you tried to portray, because no matter how ‘famous’ or ‘successful’ people perceived you to be - ultimately you were like anyone else. Making your insta pop off after the breakup. And so to the outside world, through the very very small lense of social media life was great. Parties, friends, work. 

You were a woman in demand - in all senses of the word. 

But of course, as is the 21st century world, it was a lie. Instagram showed only snapshots of what can be very long 24 hours in a day. Naturally, a select few obviously knew - your best friend, Y/f/n being one of them. Yet still you were missing that one support, that one person who would drag you back to reality whenever you got too much into your own head. It actually rather annoyed you, how dependent you had got on him, in every part of your life. 

And you really hadn’t expected to see him here today. You’d had your assistant check the guest list, he wasn’t on it. While getting ready, you had avoided all the products that reminded you of him; that soft nude lipstick he loved you in so much; your favourite (exfavourite) earrings. Had you known it, you would have worn these. Just because you knew it would get on his nerves a little bit. Nevertheless here you were, perhaps a little underdressed for the charity dinner in a dress you’d already worn before (because apparently that was a sin in the world of Hollywood). You couldn’t pin point from when, but it was simple yet elegant if you did say so yourself. A dark blue satin dress, that sat off your shoulders in a Bardot style; hugged your waist to accentuate your curves; then flowed outwards down to the floor with a slit up your right leg. It was simple compared to the sequin studded, diamanté jewelled dresses the rest of the women seemed to sport but it made you feel comfortable. 

Besides, that’s what you needed today. This was the first time after the breakup you’d attended a public event without your best friend-turned-assistant-turned-absolute-life-saver. Y/f/n had been the greatest with you all through your life but especially recently, she deserved the break to go back home and see her family. It was a pretty decent excuse too, her cousins wedding, so you were in absolutely no place to complain.

Evidently it just HAD to be this event then, while you were flying solo, that you’d be faced with…well with his face. His fucking gorgeous, perfect and oh so sweet face. 

Just seeing him, just seeing Tom fucking Holland, had the most intense burst of adrenaline course through your veins as you desperately scanned the rest of the room. Looking for an out, an excuse, someone to latch onto for the rest of the night. A distraction even. 

Never one to admit it openly, but really you knew your coping mechanism of the past months had been to sleep with who you wanted. Because the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else right? You knew it was stupid too. Not because of slut shaming or anything ( we aint got no outdated views here), but simply it wasn’t you. It wasn’t a good idea for you. It didn’t fit. 

Tom hadn’t seen you yet, so if you latched onto someone you’d likely be in the clear. So obviously, when your frantic glances landed upon Joe Keery, you literally sighed in relief. Joe was great, stranger things was a bit of a guilty pleasure for you - especially when you were in your trailer and bored. Just due to your line of work, you’d met a couple times, he seemed like decent crack and to you knowledge was single. 

Unsurprisingly then, you almost marched over to Joe, ignoring the slightly shaky feeling in your leg as your hearing seemed to focus completely on the sound of Tom’s bright laugh. 

It was your choice too. You’d chosen to end things. It was on you. Well really, both parties were equally guilty. Tom was the one who had been too tired and highly strung and exhausted to put effort into the relationship. Stupidly though, you were too in love to realise for so long, in doing so draining yourself in the process. The constant flying cross country to see him, when he couldn’t ever return the favour because he was too busy. It was chipping away at you, even if you didn’t notice. It took an intervention by your manager Davey and Y/f/n for you to see things for what they were. To see that Tom didn’t care as much as he used to. 

He tried to fight for it, of course Tom did, because he also truly and deeply loved you. Nonetheless though, it was too late. And that was it. You closed that book and returned it to the library. Something your mind occasionally drifts back to  and you think ‘huh that was a good read’ - yet that is the only space it occupies in your mind. 

OR that’s how it should be. Not you yesterday, comparing everything your date did to Tom and deciding everything was worse. Not you today, seeing him and nearly being floored by the way the suit was tailored to his body oh so exquisitely. Not you now, hearing his bubbly laughter and having to fight your muscles from taking you back into his arms. 

In short, you were highly strung and pining over a boy you’d killed your chance of happiness with. 

Not to blow your own horn, you knew Joe wouldn’t be against having your company for the evening. After all, you were a young, beautiful and upcoming actor. You were ,at the very least, self aware. And so for a good few hours you almost forgot about Toms presence, spending the time before the speeches sharing a ridiculously overpriced bottle of wine (or two) with him. He was funny. He made you laugh, even if he was pushing the limits occasionally and teetering just on the right side of socially acceptable. It was risky and in that moment, with the alcohol in your system, it made him seem more and more of an attractive shag. 

By the time the speeches started you were both overly giggly and had to keep shushing each other as the presenter called for quiet. Inherently, you knew exactly the location of Thomas - who he was sat around; the main he’d had at dinner; the brand of beer he’d been ordering.But that was subconscious. You were here with Joe. 

Under your voices, whilst getting some disapproving looks from the older, more mature, members of your table you and Joe sat through the first boring speech whispering jokes under your breath - making each other clamp their mouth shut to avoid bursting out laughing. Though tipsy, you were very aware of Joe inching closer and closer, while his hand was casually brushing yours or your shoulder or waist more often. You knew this was low, being so blatant in front of Tom. To be quite frank though, should you care? And did he care?

The answer in your head at least, was an almost certain no to both. 

One speech merged into another spent giggling away until Joe did something he didn’t mean. Heck he didn’t even know. His jesting quickly had toppled completely over into absolutely not category. Your brain felt like it was swimming as the name you’d avoided after that incident , almost ten years ago. The flashbacks came thick and fast. You an innocent young actor wanting to make a way in the industry. And him. A powerful, ridiculously important slightly overweight 50 year old with bad breath. That room in the corner of his hotel that you were completely lost in. 

You were going to be sick. 

Somewhere, distantly, you heard Joe saying something… asking you? Asking you if your were good? It was drowned out by a roar in your ears, you jerkily nodded your head. You knew your breathing was jilted, shaky and shallow. You knew your heart was exploding. It actually felt like a heart attack, the way it seemed to be beating as though it were going to break out of your chest. This time you really really needed an out. 

So without any words, leaving a bemused Joe, your chair screeched on the floor as you stood up, garnering the attention of the whole room. The heads literally swivelled to stare at you, judgement clearly there as you frantically half ran to the back of the room, pleading if your head fro the toilet to be nearby. You needed to be away from everyone and safe. 

Thankfully your escaped the room and the beady eyes, locating the bathroom where you threw a cubicle open, shakily locking it before collapsing into the wall in floods of tears, harsh sobs racking your frame as you clutched your hands to your knees and rocked slightly back and fourth. You dress being a full length ballgown was spilling out into the the nearby cubicles and under the door, but presumably you were alone in the loo - not hearing any other signs of life beyond your own sobs. 

This always happened when you had your anxiety attacks. It was like clockwork. Zone out, stop hearing, loose control of breathing, heart starts pounding, make a quick escape to a toilet, cry and then…

Well back before Tom, it had been to throw up. That was the only thing you’d ever found to ground you enough to get your body backorder your own conscious control. It was like a wave of relief after, like the drowning feeling in your lungs had just evaporated away. But the Tom happened. The first time he’d seen you panic he hadn’t a clue what to do either. SO he had just sat with you, not wanting you to be alone in that state and waited. That panic though, had lasted so long that you’d almost made yourself pass out from the hyperventilating. When that had happened, Tom had gone into emergency mode. He had been scared to touch you, in case that made you worse, but when he saw your body going limp he didn’t have a choice. He’d collected you into his arms, with your head against his chest. Being this close to calling an ambulance, the relief Tom felt when your breathing got more and more regular was unparalleled. 

Together, when he had you lying in his bed (recovered, if mortified and exhausted) was when you realised that you hadn’t been sick. And that was because of him. You’d grounded yourself on his heartbeat and breathing, listening to it and making yours sync up. Thats what had saved you that evening. 

Now however, Tom was gone. This was the first panic attack you’d had since he’d been gone. Of course while you were together you were rarely in the same place, even so you’d phone him. But not now. 

This all led to you sat clutching your knees as your mascara dripped down your cheeks as you had to fight to get enough oxygen into your body. You didn’t want to get into that vicious cycle of making yourself ill again. It really hadn’t been healthy.

Who knows how long you were sat there sobbing before you heard the door open and in response you clamped a hand to your mouth trying to stay silent. This irrational fear overcame you as you sat stock still, fearing the footsteps on the marble floor of the fancy function venue. Even the toilets were pretty posh. 

“Y/n?…. It’s-it’s Tom.” Oh. My. Fucking. God. That was all that was going through your brain as you bit you lip - presumably painfully, yet you didn’t really feel pain in your current state.  “Look I saw you leave and I know your on your own tonight… I-I couldn’t leave you on your own if your… well you know.” Everything was going so so fast in your brain, that it actually scared you into stopping crying, so much so you felt your hand flop back down to your side. “…I was waiting outside because I didn’t want to errr you know… but you’ve been 20 minutes so I need to know your good…..okay?”

The boy was too fucking good. And stubborn… he was too stubborn and you knew he wasn’t going to give in. It was also fairly evident that he knew you in here - there was no pretending you didn’t exist. 

“Y/n? Come on you gotta let me know.”

“I’m fine. You-you go.” Only when you spoke was it evident to yourself just how not-okay you really were. Tom just chuckled and spoke again.

“How long have you known me for? That’s just not going to happen is it.” You already knew this, but something about the way he said it made you realise a sad laugh, momentarily making you feel a bit more in control. He seemed to like that response, you heard him bend down and then saw the bottom of his tux as he sat down leaning against your cubicle door.

“Is …is this your first one… since?  You both know what he was talking about. Since you broke up. 

“Uhmm I-“ You swallowed down a fresh rise of nausea, somewhat determined to not throw up when you ex is barely a metre from you. “Yeh I suppose.” In didn’t seem a revelation to Tom, yet he still hummed lowly in response as the room drifted back to silence. 

“You… you wanna try to breath with me?… You don’t have to open the door just…”

Croaking a please in response because this feeling was really blood awful and you wanted it to end, Tom started exaggerating his breathes, as you shakily and eventually managed to start to time it with his. Without thinking, when Tom’s palm snuck half under the door you immediately grabbed and squeezed it - the contact helping to synchronise your body with his. 

It should be an alien feeling after your time apart. But no it felt oh so natural and so very right. 

Once you’d collected yourself and realised how bloody stupid this whole situation was  you withdrew your hand back, loosing the warmth as you shook your head in disapproval of yourself. So very fucking stupid. He was silent for a bit, letting you think things through whilst still sat outside your cubicle. 

“You good now?” You hummed in agreement and you felt Tom’s head fall against the door, looking up to the ceiling. “Want me to go?”

“If you want to” That was met with silence, but a very telling lack of movement that spoke a thousand words.

“You should get out of here… you wanna avoid the trigger again and I mean I know you’re exhausted.” The boy had researched panic disorder and attacks when he found out you suffered with it - he probably knew more of the psychology of it than you, whilst never having any first hand experience of it.  Annoyingly he was right, as per, after attacks you always always slept for hours - it was just a draining process. “I’ll get you a car if you want?…. I’d like to make sure you get back okay if you don’t mind.” With only your cold and empty residual feeling left, his words still managed to ignite a spark of warmth in your chest. 

“I’m not going to ruin your evening Tom.” You tried to refuse even if it was very very forced and very very hopeful he wouldn’t give in. 

“I was having a crappy evening. Sitting in the ladies toilet talking to my ex through a toilet door has actually been the highlight.”He chuckled playfully in a self pitying way, somehow again making you giggle. And so he had you standing on slightly unsteady feet, your black heels held in one hand because no wasn’t the time to put yourself through teetering around on pin needles. The shuffling outside the door meant Tom stood up too - before you unlocked the door and opened it. 

Prior to seeing Tom your eyes locked on the sight of your reflection, in the mirrors above the sinks opposite you. Perhaps the only way to describe it… it was a sight. The shock being in the juxtaposition between the elegant dress, which even having been crumpled on a bathroom floor had somehow managed to survive and still look near the off-the-hanger; but your face? Oh that was a shit show. You’d cried your makeup off almost completely, leaving your face blotchy and shining as well as the ever so telling smudged mascara under your bottom lash line. 

You had to laugh or you’d just start to cry.

“Don’t worry I’ve seen you much worse.” You saw in the reflection as Tom leaned in and whispered in your ear, making your eyes roll and head shake as you looked from him back to you. 

“I look like a paps dream.” Without instruction, Tom bolted into a nearby cubicle, wrapping layers of toilet roll round his hand before offering it to you as a makeshift wipe.

“This is the glamour of Hollywood don’t you know? Wiping your face with bog roll”Thankfully taking it, you offered Tom a thankful smile as he stepped back, giving you space as he leant against another cubicle pillar. Once you finished up blotting your face, Tom had already shrugged off his jacket walking toward you as he offered it out. Tilting your head to the side in a questioning manner Tom just shrugged, saying it’d help avoid the paparazzi just in case. In reality you weren’t so sure, but anyhow you still appreciated the gesture and draped it round your shoulders with a muttering of thanks. 

At this point his phone pinged, the car was outside, so without any words exchanged he led you to the door, checked the hallway was clearly before guided you back to the exit. There didn’t appear to be anybody lurking around, which you were oh so thankful for as you almost threw yourself in to the safety of the blacked out car. Tom followed and you both, almost comically as if scripted, released a sigh in unison as you melted into the seats. That had you chuckling dryly as you sat in silence. 

“You know we can’t move till you say where you’re staying?” Teasing you, Tom shot you that ever mischievous grin that made the blood rush through your skin. After you’d told the driver, the car pulled swiftly out the laibi.

“Did he…did he say something?” Tom’s demeanour had steeled up and you looked questioningly up at him. “Joe… you looked…close.”

“Oh”. You were taken aback. You should have seen this coming to be fair, him asking for the trigger this evening - and yet you were more shocked at his jealousy. How he looked pained to mention Joe by name. “Um no… well sort of…it was a joke. He didn’t mean it but it er…it took me back.” Tom knew your history, he knew what happened all those years ago and he nodded slowly , keeping his eyeline straight ahead. 

“He’s a dick.”

“No he’s not…. He- he was sweet enough . It was all me.”

“What?”

“I pushed myself on him. I-I saw you… I was spooked.” Tom left it to drift back to silence. He had a lot of thinking to do too. 

He’d obviously kept up to date with you. Call it a professional interest. That was the problem being in love with someone when you weren’t allowed to be. But it hurt like hell, especially when he heard what you were doing. Because he knew this wasn’t you. He knew you sleeping around wasn’t going to help you recover - in fact he thought (and quite correctly) it was the opposite. That long term it’d only cause you more and more pain. 

“You know, you don’t have to do this?… I-I know it isn’t you. I’m not insulting or anything I’m… I’m just worried.” You knew he was being truthful . And infuriatingly he was right. Which only made it even more annoying. 

“Why do you care though?” Looking out the window that was all you could think to say. That was your subconscious talking as you didn’t really want the answer. Or you desperately did but you knew it’d be hard to get over. 

“Y/n” He sighed, making you look across at him “I’ve not stopped caring… I’ll never stop caring.”

Wasn’t that just a knife to the heart. You held your breath momentarily, not knowing what to think (nervermind say) in response to that. Everything in that car seemed to freeze, Tom’s eyes piercing the deepest and darkest parts of your mind as he stared at you. You both really weren’t over it. You were both hurting. You missed each other.

And you were about to dive in all over again. 

But then the indicator ticked on. The car pulled to a stop. The ignition switched off by the driver. You were at your hotel. The journeys end - quite literally. 

Tom felt it too. He knew if ever there was a chance, however rogue and unlikely, of you two working things out it was within this journey. And he’d failed.

“I-uh…I-this is me” Stammering through, distracted by the way Tom’s eyes shone with disappointment. 

‘Yeh - yeh it is I guess.”

“Well er… thanks for, well you know… for saving me. You er-you really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to”

“Yeh well er thanks…. And er-Oh! Your jacket” You realised, already tugging the tailored suit jacket from your shoulders. 

“No no it’s really okay. I have loads anyway.” See?In Hollywood you really weren’t allowed to wear the same thing twice. 

“Oh-okay. Well er….I’ll see you around I guess?”

“Can I walk you to your room, just to-check no one bothers you?” Tom was trying. Desperately trying. He could feel you slipping through his fingers again, this time he wanted to put up more of a fight. You shook your head thought, a sad smile gracing your lips. 

“I’d say yes but I think I know where that’d end up…. And I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Defeatedly nodding, Tom just smiled in a tight-lipped fashion, equally as sadly at you. 

“I’ll errr I’ll see you around.” While gathering yourself and preparing to exit the car, your hand on the door handle. Tom responded with a ‘yeh’ but before you left you leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, before whispering under your breath..

“Thankyou Tom.”

part 2 ish of sorts --> link

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #Tom Holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland x famous!reader

[vanderlindemorgans]

Cross My Heart (Chapter 5)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Rating: Explicit/18+

Summary: A traitorous Agent Whiskey returns to the United States on the run. Being cast out by Statesman, he soon finds that you’re the only person he can turn to - the embittered former flame from years long passed

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: Eventual smut, some references to alcoholism and drug use. Reader is in her late twenties but there is an age gap between her and Whiskey. Chapter specific warnings: one scene takes place in a hospital, some medical talk, more heavy drinking, talk of death and alcoholism (specifically related to drunk driving), mentions of drug addiction, Whiskey being a dick, lotta heavy topics in general.

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“Alright, so the X-Rays have come back and as you can probably already guess your left arm has been fractured”.

The news hadn’t been a shock to you at all - it was only logical that the result of being thrown off the back of a horse was your arm breaking from the impact of the fall, nevermind the sheer amount of pain that it had already caused you was even more indication that something was definitely wrong there. All things considered, it still wasn’t a pleasant piece of news to receive, causing you to let out a low groan as you settled back into the hospital gurney they had allocated to you after the ambulance had pulled you in. Dressed in only a hospital gown, you felt the chill from the room's air conditioning prick the edges of your skin, the coolness of temperature making the whole experience even more foreign to you. Of course, it wasn’t like you’d never been to a hospital before - an unlucky bout of croup had sent you to the emergency room as a little kid when you’d almost stopped breathing. At the resurgence of that particular memory you felt yourself shudder, recalling the hours spent passed out in a brightly lit room and being forced to drink gross tasting liquid that was meant to clear up your airways. At least you weren’t choking on your own breath this time round. 

“Well that’s just fantastic. How long will it take to heal? I kinda got a ranch to run” you asked the doctor, who was standing off to the side consulting the clipboard nestled against his arm. Sighing, he looked up at you with a look of sympathy while he ran through the information he’d jotted down on his notes. “Usually it takes twelve weeks for fractures to heal - given the fact that a good part of your arm has been displaced you’ll need to be put into surgery to shift the bone back into place, which we’ll have scheduled for you in the next twenty-four hours. Afterwards, I’ll be putting you in a cast for a couple of weeks and you’ll have to come back in for checkups weekly. I’ll also give you a list of rehabilitation exercises you can do to ensure the recovery process goes as smoothly as possible” he explained. “After your surgery and subsequent discharge, I heavily recommend a few days bed rest due to the concussion you have sustained”.  

“So I’m guessing most physical labour is out then” you muttered under your breath, sighing once you realized how heavily this would impact your ability to keep things running smoothly back at the ranch. Yes, you had employees but without you to oversee everything things would slow down and descend into madness real quickly. You wished you had allocated some sort of second in command for times like this, a manager of sorts to keep things in place while you recovered but you’d just never gotten around to it, brushing the thought aside every time it sprung up with a simple “Why would I need extra help anyway? Nothing ever happens around here”. 

“You’d be correct on that. Now, I have some other patients to check on but I will be back in about 20 minutes or so to prep you for surgery, though I will send a nurse to give you some painkillers so you can stop feeling the worst of the pain for at least a little while” he replied. You went to thank him but before you could you felt a light touch graze along your right arm. Your eyes glanced over to where Jack’s hand was placed, his touch delicate and comforting, sparking that same feeling in your chest that you’d felt when he’d stroked your forehead back at the ranch. His eyes met your own for a moment, deep cedar brown looking at you with nothing more than concern and worry, somehow pulling at a single string of your heart even though you wanted to fight against it with all your might.

Snapping you focus back into place, you nodded back over to the doctor and thanked him for all he was doing, listening to his reassurances that he’d have you fixed up as soon as possible as he hurried on out of the room to his next patient in need. Once he was gone, you exhaled in annoyance and went back to staring aimlessly at the ceiling, mulling over the inconvenience of your predicament. 

“Everything ok, sugar?” you heard Jack ask you, feeling his enchanting eyes study your expression, his anxiety over your wellbeing plain as day. Letting out a small laugh, you returned his question with a small smile of your own. “Does it look like I’m ok?” you joked, gesturing vaguely to your fractured arm. 

He chuckled at your sarcasm, always enjoying that certain fire you had to your character that refused to silence itself. Unbeknownst to you, that was one of things that drew him towards you in the first place - his own air of cockiness and confidence was equally matched by your spitfire and sarcastic wit. Finding out the sweet disposition that lay behind that harshness the first time round had taken him by complete surprise, but only did more to endear himself to you. God, he was such a fool for losing that. He was certain that your sweetness was still there, closed behind even more layers of hurt and pain that he’d caused such a large hand in. 

From the moment the ambulance had arrived, Jack had stayed beside you, refusing to leave for even a single moment. It was quite endearing, truth be told, a feeling that attempted to worm its way through your steadfast reasoning against him. He’s a liar. Don’t fall for his shit again, you repeated to yourself. Though it was becoming harder and harder to continue regarding him as your greatest mistake when he was behaving so kindly and gentlemanly towards you. Just a part of his deceptive charm, I guess, you thought bitterly. 

“Y’know, you don’t have to worry about things gettin’ outta hand down at the ranch. I’m more than happy to step up and help” he spoke up, snapping your attention back to his words and out of your own contemplation. You thought about his proposal for a minute, the temptation to say yes seeming very appealing towards you, though somehow that felt like admitting to weakness. The ranch wasn’t his responsibility, it was yours, left to you by your dear parents. It was your obligation to run it in their stead - there’d been difficulties along the way, sure, including the occasional nasty cold every now and then but you had pulled through without any trouble. You didn’t need help or any sort of handout, and you were more than capable of taking care of business by yourself, even with a broken arm.

Then again, it is gonna be kinda hard to run a business while being confined to bed rest. Briefly you thought about just closing the ranch for a couple of days while you got back on track yet once you thought about the loss in profits you discarded that idea quickly. It wasn’t like you were struggling to make ends meet but a dip in profits could cause a bit of issue. 

“Yeah but...It’s my responsibility. I can’t just ignore that because I got a stupid broken arm” you rebuffed, though you didn’t sound entirely convinced of what you were saying yourself. Sadly, stubbornness was your nature and even if you knew you were fighting a losing battle, sometimes it was more about the principle of having a position rather than whatever thing you were debating over. Some would say that was quite a counterproductive way to look at things, and you’d agree with them, yet you still remained stubborn in spite of them, feeding back into the cycle.  

“Darlin’, with all due respect, I think what’s best for you is that you take a step back and let someone else take the reins. You need to allow yourself to rest a lil. Tell me, in all the years of runnin’ the ranch by yourself, have you ever once taken a day off?”. 

“No, but-”.

“Exactly as I thought. You’ve been doing an amazing job at keeping things together for all these years, sweetheart, but you gotta relax a bit. Let me help you” he interrupted, gazing at you with those heart-meltingly sweet eyes of his, a look which made you seize up ever so slightly in minor fake annoyance. Little shit, he had to be doing that on purpose.

“Fine, only if it’ll get you to shut up” you relented, rolling your eyes in a dramatic fashion and hitting your head back down into the pillow below, eliciting a playful smirk from him in return. “That’s my girl, stubborn as always” he jested. 

To that you cocked an eyebrow at him in disbelief. “Your girl? Careful there, Jack, for a minute I thought you were capable of genuine compassion and care. I may have once been your girl, cowboy, but not anymore. Or did you happen to forget?”. 

His own expression softened slightly in regards to your snide remark, his mischievous grin faltering while he turned his gaze to the floor, looking somewhat sheepish towards what you had said, a far cry from his usual air of arrogance. “Yeah, I guess I deserve that” he murmured. “Tell me, sugar, do you ever think one day you’ll believe me when I say that I’m sorry?”. 

“When pigs fly, dearest” you smiled with a shit-eating grin, though you couldn’t miss that momentary flash of hurt in his eyes that made you pull back, a sharp pang striking through your chest that hurt harder than the agonizing ache in your arm, which really, was saying something. Could that be...guilt, perhaps?, you thought, searching Jack’s face for any further sign of offense. If he was feeling hurt, he was doing a pretty stellar job at hiding it. Maybe it was nothing, and even if he was hurt, well, he said it himself, he deserved it. Without giving you another minute to ponder your own feelings, a welcome interruption in the arrival of a nurse found you, shifting your thoughts towards the relief of finally getting some painkillers into you. 

___

The surgery had gone over well, and after a grueling day spent hanging out in that hospital room hopped up on painkillers you were finally discharged late afternoon the following day. The worst of your concussion had cleared itself up too yet you were still confined to your bed for those first few days - the doctor was insistent on that fact, saying you could never be too careful. You’d begrudgingly complied, not wanting to cause any further problems to your health, and even if you had tried to go against the doctor’s orders, you knew that Jack would be there to send you off back to bed if you dared lift a finger. 

Jack had doted on you the entire time, making sure you were well hydrated and cool enough in the midst of the hot Texas summer, fetching you snacks and whatever else you needed from downstairs. In his own words, what kind of man would he be if he didn’t take care of an ailing woman. You’d rolled your eyes and insisted that he didn’t have to go all out with looking after you yet he’d insisted. It was somewhat heartwarming, and it felt nice to be taken care of again after those last few years alone. It reminded you of when you’d come down with the flu back in third grade, staying home in bed lazily watching television and barely being able to keep your eyes open while your mum made soup in the kitchen. You could feel your heart drop at the mere recollection of your parents, pain that stayed beneath the surface rising up in full force. Usually you pushed those feelings down, not wanting to become distracted from the business, but today, you allowed yourself the indulgence of missing them. What would they think if they could see you now? Would they be proud, or disappointed? 

Feeling your stomach grumble, you shifted over in bed and reached your only good arm out to grab onto the half-eaten grilled cheese Jack had brought in for you five minutes before, letting out a low wince at the pain that writhed through your other arm, which had been placed into a cast and sling for the time being. Already you couldn’t wait for the day you could get the damned thing taken off - you hadn’t been able to shower and you felt grotty and gross. It wasn’t like you had to impress anyone, it was just you and Jack lying about the place. Still, you could only take so many days of waking up with unwashed greasy hair. And it was itchy too. Oh dear god, it was fucking itchy. You’d heard about how itchy the plaster could get second-hand but you never anticipated it to be that bad. 

Directing your eyes to the clock on your bedside, you took notice of the time and let out a small relieved sigh. You could finally take another one of those painkillers, the fourth and dismally last one for you of the day. 

Your relief quickly fizzled out into disappointment when you realised the packet of painkillers that had been sitting by your bedside was empty. “Seriously? It’s only been a few days, I couldn’t have gone through them already…” you muttered to yourself in annoyance. Nevermind, there was another packet downstairs. You may have been perfectly capable of getting out of bed and retrieving it yourself, though you found yourself not wanting to be bothered with such a task. “Hey Jack, you there? I ran out of painkillers, could ya run some up to me?” you called out.

“Sure thing, sweetheart” you heard him shout back, and no more than two minutes later he was striding through your bedroom door, carrying exactly what you had requested within his palms. “How are you feelin’?” he asked. 

“No better than six minutes ago when you last asked me that. Thanks for bringing these up though, fuck that stupid horse for bucking me off” you grumbled, sniping the blessed white packet out of his hands and into your fingers. “Pain making you grumpy, sweet girl? You seem a bit more full of spitfire than usual today” he joked. 

“Nah, you’re getting the discounted version today. If I wanted to vocalise exactly what I was feeling right now you’d be obliterated in a second” you laughed, chucking a tablet into your mouth and washing it down with a large gulp of water, anxious to feel some semblance of relief. 

“You don’t say. How’s your head doing, though? No dizziness or anything like that?”. 

“I’m fine, Jack, I promise. You don’t have to fawn all over me just because I broke my dumb arm” you assured, rolling your eyes at him. 

“I wouldn’t call in fawning, I only want to make sure you're comfortable and all that. Not only because of your arm and all” he smiled gently, reaching out to brush a stray hair off your forehead. It could have been the heat of the room but you could have sworn your skin felt on fire the moment he touched you. You could feel him press the back of his fingers against your head, unconsciously allowing your breath to hitch at his touch. And just like that, the warmth of his hand was gone, leaving an invisible searing mark in its place and your own head full of frenzied and confused thoughts. 

“Like I said earlier, just call out if you need anything else, alright darlin’?” he said as he was leaving, words that you didn’t care to take notice of as he left you to yourself again. Blinking slowly, you couldn’t even fully begin to describe what had just taken place, or why one little gesture was throwing your mind into somersaults. Why did his mere touch have to affect you like that? Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? Groaning loudly, you settled yourself underneath the sheet covering you and huffed at nobody in particular, cursing both yourself and him for even existing. For fucks sake...

___

Taking a sip of bourbon from your glass, you leaned against the side of the stairs of the veranda with your gaze fixated off into the distance, though you didn’t take any notice of what lay ahead, lost deep in your own thoughts that clouded your mind. It’d been a couple more days, and you’d finally been able to get out of bed and get back to helping out around the ranch - not that you were still of any use to anyone, given the state of your arm. It felt good to be back overseeing things, albeit a bit more behind the scenes than you had been in years. It’d be a good month or so before you were able to move your arm properly and have things back to normal. At first that fact did nothing short of irritating you, since you weren’t one to lie about helpless when work needed to be done. Over the last few days though, seeing the ranch go about with business as usual with Jack’s extra help had put you at ease a little. It still bothered you somewhat that you had to be asking any sort of help from Jack Daniels of all people, though really, he was the one offering it in the first place so you hadn’t so much as asked him to do anything, moreso conceding to his instistance at the behest of your stubbornness. 

The pain was getting a little better too, though whether that had more to do with the painkillers or not remained to be seen. For example, you couldn’t feel anything now but you had just ingested two glasses of pure straight bourbon, so of course any type of pain would be numbed. Remember when it could numb more than just that? You let out a small snicker at the thought, sounding as hollow and empty as it felt. Once upon a time you might have been classed as relatively lightweight, a fact that changed after years of the trials and tribulations life had thrown your way. You still got drunk easy, but it took a good few glasses before you actually passed out.

“You know, you should let me sign that for ya”. 

Hearing that familiar voice ring out from behind you, you swivel around so see its owner standing right in the opened doorway of your home, his hands casually resting in his pockets and his frame leant against the wall. “What are we, in middle school? I don’t want it getting dirty” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him for good measure. 

He smirked right back at you, letting out a small snicker that mirrored your own. “Why not? It’s not like you're gonna have to be wearin’ it forever. A little scribble in permanent marker wouldn’t do ya any harm” Jack grinned, taking a large step forward to descend down to your level, seating himself right next to you on the veranda. You cocked an eyebrow at him, letting your fingertips trail over the edge of the glass in your hands while you stared at him with utter audacity. “And yet I know you’re only so persistent in signing it because you’ll write something crude or vaguely flirty” you snipped. 

“How little you think of me, sugar. I’d never dream of doin’ such a thing. I am nothing if not a gentleman”. 

“Oh, do cut the charm, Jack. What is it you want?”.

“Please, can’t a man share a glass of bourbon with a lady without being subjected to the Spanish Inquisition?” he asked, wearing his devilish and frustratingly charming grin as he spoke, the appearance of which you swore made your cheeks flush a little bit hotter. Probably because of the alcohol...and it is hot out here after all...

“Not this lady, cowboy” you stated, gulping down the last dredges of bourbon in your glass and placing it back down to the floor with a thud. You went to go grab the bottle from beside you but found Jack had already snatched it up, pouring you another glass. Mumbling out a small thank you, you considered asking him if he wants a glass of his own, however once you caught sight of his silver Statesman issued flask in his hands you dismissed the idea entirely. With nothing else left to say, you glanced back up to the sky above towards where the moon was hanging over you two, the delicate light illuminating the stretches of countryside around your property in a soft glow, one that was both enchanting and eerie at the same time. Every now and then you would be reminded of how beautiful the Texan countryside could look, whether it be bathed in the rays of that damned blistering sun or the enigmatic glimmer of moonlight. It could pull you back to moments lost in time, years ago sitting right where you were in that very same spot, seven years younger and with the exact same man sitting beside you, head rested on his shoulder and looking out into the vast expanse of midnight black. Funny how things change, don’t they?

Out the corner of your eye you saw Jack shake his head, his eyes quiet, the sparkle of stark confidence bordering on plain arrogance missing. It was a similar look to the one he’d given you at the hospital that night, before he’d tried to cover it up with a certain facade of indifference. “What will it take for you to believe I’m sorry? What happened between us, it was all-” he started before being unceremoniously cut off by your interjection. 

“In the past? I’m well aware of that. Doesn’t change how I feel” you stopped him. You’d anticipated him throwing out that line from day one and you’d come prepared. Shut it down. Don’t let him try to swindle you for a fool. 

His expression changed to one more serious, a hint of him being slightly miffed that you cut him off in the first place. “Let me finish, darlin’. I’m gonna level with you for a second - what I did to you was one of the worst mistakes of my life. Letting everything fall apart like it did, I never should have let it happen” he expressed, his tone straddling between being firm and also being gentle. Cocking an eyebrow at him, you turned back to your glass of liquor, swirling the liquid around idly in a way that reminded you of that persistent thought running round your head. Did he have a point? Were you being too harsh on him? 

Don’t become soft on him. Don’t do it. You shifted back into focus, pushing those thoughts far to the back of your tipsy mind while you took a couple large sips of liquor as if it were a lifeline. “Worse than whatever mistake led you to showing up on my doorstep?” you asked, eager to direct the conversation right back out of that uncomfortable territory and into something a bit more easier to stomach. Maybe later on you could ponder the true depths of your perceptions of Jack. Right now, though, you wanted to get wasted and not have to think about anything anymore. And hey, it’s not like I wasn’t wondering about the events that led him here in the first place anyway.“You never did tell me what happened. I know you said it was none of my concern but...I want to know. Call it a spate of drunken curiosity, if ya want”. 

The question alone was enough to draw Jack’s face from being merely serious to an expression more cold and distant. He looked away from you entirely and rested his gaze to the few steps below the two of you, his hand clenching in a subconscious act that alone was enough to tell you his own reservations regarding the topic. “Truth is, I’ve been fucking things up for a good couple of years. What happened to lead me here, well, it ain’t a pretty story”. 

“I don’t care, Jack, I wanna know” you asserted, surging with a sense of fiery confidence. It might have been the alcohol giving you a bit more moxie to push the topic. One thing was for sure though: you wanted answers, and you didn’t wanna let this go. Stretching your legs out, you finished off the glass you had while you waited for him to reply, not wanting to cave to your request even if he was looking at you like you’d threatened to kill the President. 

Finally, he let out a low groan of annoyance and leant against the side of the veranda, not affording you a single look as he launched into his tale. “Basically what happened is some agents from an English based secret service came over to the states as a last resort - their base got blown up by someone and the two guys that approached us were the only ones left alive. Well, them and this other guy we had at our headquarters, but that’s a whole other story. The people behind the attack were a group called the Golden Circle, and Statesman had already been investigating them for awhile. I was called in by Champ to partner up with the Kingsman fellas, do the regular secret agent spiel of espionage and savin’ the world and all that crap. But, me and these other agents, we had an...ideological disagreement. I was covertly tryin’ to hinder them until the older guy got wise to my shit and shot me in the head. Ginger managed to bring me in and revive me, I went over to Cambodia where the two agents were confronting the leader of the Golden Circle, and to make a long story short things got nasty pretty quickly. I barely escaped with my life” he explained.

You nodded along to his explanation, the load of information being a lot to take in the first time round. You were always somewhat aware of Jack’s position as a secret agent though you were never privy to the nitty and gritty details - in fact, the way you’d found out about it in the first place was by complete accident and Jack had to beg Agent Champ to allow you to become cleared on even knowing the basics of his true work behind the front of being a Statesman investor. “And these ideological disagreements were…?” you pushed. 

“Trust me, you don’t wanna know” he deflected.

“Try me”.

He didn’t reply to you straight away, instead staring at you with a stark look of confliction across his face, an inner turmoil brewing inside of him on whether or not he should tell you even more. Being cast out as a traitor, he didn’t have to worry about breaking any sort of rule of confidentiality, so if you had to wager a guess at what his dilemma was, then it must have been that he felt mildly ashamed, or even embarrassed about the whole situation. In your mind though, you’d let him keep his secrets for weeks now, but if he was going to stay in your house you wanted to at the bare minimum know what he did that was so bad that he simply couldn’t return back home anymore.  “Well go on then, hit me with your best shot” you prodded further, hopefully enough to get his demeanour to crack and for him to spill what exactly the entire fuss had been about. And sure enough, crack he did. 

Running a hand across his forehead, he let out a low exasperated sigh, one that would have been inaudible if you hadn’t been seated beside him, indicating the exact moment he finally decided to break his own silence and reveal everything to you. “The Golden Circle were primarily a drug cartel and terrorist organization based out in the hidden depths of the Cambodian jungle. Their leader had devised a plot that involved lacing their distribution of drugs with a new type of chemical she created that caused death. Since their supply was mass distributed over the globe, they were holding the entire populace of drug users and addicts hostage to their respective governments, demanding a payout for the antidote. They didn’t, however, anticipate the President and other world leaders not really giving a red hot shit about the lives of junkies. Being the noble men they are, the Kingsman agents as well as the rest of Statesman were striving to get ahold of the antidote to save all those people. And that, is where me and them disagreed” Jack elaborated, avoiding your gaze in what appeared to be a calculated move in order to refrain from seeing your reactions to his admittance. In the span of two minutes, your expression had shifted from intense curiosity to straight up bafflement at what he was saying. It didn’t make sense - why was he against distributing the antidote? He was a secret agent, wasn’t he meant to save the world and innocent lives and all that?

“Let me get this straight - you were assigned on a mission to try to save the lives of innocent people, and you chose...not to do that” you asked, your tone laced with judgment. Not that you had intended for what you said to have come across any different. If what he was implying was right, then that would mean...

“Well, when you put it like that, sure, it sounds awful. I will concede, it wasn’t my best move. But all the people who ingested those drugs did so willingly. They knew they were taking a gamble on their lives the moment they stuck a damn needle into their arms” Jack grumbled defensively, allowing you to gawk back at him in utter disbelief. “Jack, no, you can’t seriously believe that? So what you’re saying is that the kid that decided to get high with his mates one weekend at a party deserves to die? Is that right?”. 

“No, no, I didn’t mean like that, I just…”.

“Really? ‘Cause it sounds a lot like you’re saying that innocent people should die for their poor choices” you cut in, shaking your head to further drive your point in. “Jesus, just when I thought you couldn’t be a bigger asshole you proved me wrong”. 

“Sweetheart, please, I know. It was a mistake, you don’t have to keep rubbing it in”. 

“You know it’s a mistake, but do you truly feel it? Do you really feel remorse? Because if you don’t then it’s just a bunch of empty words” you rebuffed, shooting him with a cold piercing glare that could make an entire continent freeze over. Around about this time, you really began to take notice of the dazed feeling clouding you, every glass of liquor draining straight into your brain and making you feel like your entire head was swimming. Maybe take it easy on the next glass, why don’t ya? With that thought, you shoved the glass off to the side with your free arm and bit your lip, debating whether or not you should even say what you wanted to next. That debate, however, did not last very long as you found yourself blurting out exactly what was on your mind within two seconds of your last thought. “Jack, look...maybe I’ll hate myself for saying this later, and maybe it’s just the liquor talking but I don’t think you’re an inherently bad person. I think you’re an arrogant son of a bitch who does cruel stupid things but probably has a decent enough heart. You just...you gotta stop with this shit. Stop with the betrayals, and the lies, and the false promises, all of it, and just be the real you. The Jack I knew may be a prick but he was never one to let an innocent die on his watch. What’s really behind all this?”. 

He continued to glare from his position beside you, somewhat intent on making you recant and drop the whole subject entirely. You wouldn’t go down that easy though, and he knew it, for as stubborn as Jack was you were at least ten times moreso, so when he folded first and trained his eyes low to the ground, you knew that he’d finally conceded. You could feel a whole shift in his demeanour from where you sat, the mask of defensive anger slowly falling away to reveal what was truly underneath: hurt. Pure, raw, unbridled hurt. Anguish that felt especially familiar to you and spoke to a part of yourself that you’d been turning away from for years, and even before he said those words you knew exactly what he was going to say. 

“Years ago, before I became an agent to Statesman, I was married to the young woman I’d fallen for in high school. I think I told you about her in passing maybe once, or twice, I don’t know…” Jack started, trailing off once he began to fully re-immerse himself in the past, heartache plainly sewn across his features. It was then that you felt an ache of your own in your chest, a heavy feeling of guilt descending upon you once you realised the gravity of what he was saying. “I remember. You said her name was Lily, wasn’t it?” you murmured, your voice small and unsure, with a hint of something else present too. Regret? Guilt? Whatever it was, you couldn’t quite put a name to it, but it was there, strong as anything and clearly wasn’t going away any time soon. 

Jack let out a small hum in reply, everything about his composure presumably a million miles away from everything around the both of you.“So you do remember” he muttered, brushing his fingers over the edge of his silver flask that he had cradled in his handles, tracing the Statesman logo engraved on the side with the pad of his thumb. “I remember you askin’ me about her the first time you came back to my apartment in New York - you saw the photo of her I kept on my desk and asked who she was. I only told you briefly that she was long gone, but I never told you how. The both of us were only twenty-three, and she was pregnant with our first child, a baby boy. Last time I saw her she left the house to go to the convenience store a few streets over”. He stopped himself for a split second, the darkness of his eyes being the all-too recognisable sign of falling deep into his own recollection, feeling as if he was reliving every memory that he revisited in his mind. “Twenty minutes later I get a phone call from a cop, saying there’d been an incident. Meth addicts had robbed the store at gunpoint and she’d been caught in the crossfire. She died instantly, and I wasn’t there to say goodbye. I never got to meet our baby boy, I never got to hold her in my arms again and say how much I loved her, because she was taken from me by a couple of meth-addled scumbags”. 

You were honestly at a loss for words, not knowing if saying something would be the appropriate option or not. He was right, you knew he was married before - the time with the picture that he mentioned was the most you had heard of her. He never brought Lily up again, and you never thought to ask, since in your mind it wasn’t any of your business who Jack loved before. Now, the pieces were falling into place, the interwoven connections of his past to his actions as an agent making all the more sense to you. 

What you wanted to do most was lean forward and envelop him into your embrace, tell him that you understood more than anyone what exactly that felt like, and even permit yourself to pour out your own heart to him. Drunk as you were though, you couldn’t talk yourself into doing anything more than placing a reassuring hand on his knee, letting your touch be soft and hesitant in case he shrugged you off, since you did basically just goad him into revealing his own wounds in the name of having answers. “Jack, I...I had no idea, I-”. 

“How could you have known? I never told you” he mumbled flatly. In the dim veranda light, all though it was faint, you could swear that there was a teardrop lingering in the corner of his cedar brown eyes, nudging the dagger of guilt further into your heart. Say something, you idiot.

Starting off softly, you let your hand rest firmer on his knee, trying to catch his eyes into your own. Tearing his glance away from the flask, he looked back at you with the same raw grief that you had seen on your own face so many times. “I know it must have hurt like hell losing her. And you have every right to feel angry, and hurt that she was taken, but that doesn’t give you the right to hate. Every addict in the world is not the same man who took her life. You can’t just-” you started, before the sound of Jack’s harshest tone cut through your words like a knife. 

“How would you know? Do you have any idea what it feels like to hurt, to have lost everything because of someone else’s choices?” he spat, anger seething in his scowl that was directed solely at you. It had taken you by surprise at first - as a reflex you withdrew your hand quickly from him as if he were burnt, perplexed at his sudden outburst. That didn’t last long however, as soon enough confusion was replaced by your own flair of anger. Now it was your turn to get defensive.“I think I do know what it’s like to hurt and to lose. In case you’ve forgotten, dickhead, there’s two people who should be right inside this house that aren’t anymore and haven’t been for about six fucking years now!” you yelled back. 

Shit. He’d forgotten about your parents. The anger that had been in him disappeared without a trace right then, being replaced by something close to resembling remorse over his behaviour. “I...I didn’t mean...fuck, sugar, I…I’m sorry. I don’t even know what to say” he apologised. You didn’t say anything back to him. You didn’t want to dignify him with any sort of a response. First of all, how dare he? You were only trying to empathise with him, and here he was biting your head off for daring to suggest that he doesn't hate every drug user on the planet. Why do I even fucking bother? 

The awkward silence between you hung for awhile, the two of you not wanting to break it for your own different reasons. You could feel Jack stealing glances at you, like he was trying to talk himself into saying something but never had the courage to follow through. Huffing to yourself, you took in your next glass fast enough to make your head spin. You’d have to turn in for the night eventually, and truth be told you were considering doing so right then when you heard Jack speak up. 

“I never did ask...if you don’t mind me askin’ that is...what happened to your folks anyway?” he asked hesitantly, as if he knew the question was fat-witted to begin with. Not that you minded too much by then. Drunk you was a lot more forgiving than you were sober. 

Taking in a heavy breath, you relayed your tale of woe to him, one hand placed steady to your side to keep you sitting upright. “It was late, and they were coming back from a friend’s 50th birthday party. Their friend lived in downtown Dallas, so they had a fair way to go to get from there to here. When they were almost on the highway, an out-of-control car barrelled towards them, smashing into the front of their windscreen and killing both of them instantly. The driver of the other car had been drinking - according to the local news he was a known alcoholic and had been out having a heated argument with his friend in the passenger seat. The only survivor of the entire collision had been his friend”. 

You saw Jack blink at you in silent shock, the weight of your words falling heavily on him while he continued to process it all. “Shit, darling, I feel like an even bigger piece of shit than I already did. If you slapped me clean across the face and kicked me out on my ass after this I wouldn’t blame ya one bit” he replied to you solemnly in a way that didn’t leave you questioning the authenticity of his words - he was genuinely sorry this time round. Taking his apology in stride, you shrugged back at him  and acted as nonchalant about the whole thing as possible, not wanting to ponder the topic further. As far as you were concerned, you’d felt enough things for one day and would very much like a break from it all. 

“It’s fine. You had no way of knowing. But please, if you take anything from this, at least listen to my words: externalising hate towards random people only feeds your trauma. It doesn’t resolve anything, and the only person left suffering in the end is yourself”. 

He furrowed his brow at you, most likely feeling a little defensive that the topic had circled back around to here, but considering his unruly display of anger earlier he wasn’t one to indulge in his own instinctual need to defend his position. “But...didn’t you want the man who took your parents away to suffer? Didn’t you look at every other drunk driving incident in the papers with a little more anger and rage than before?” he asked, earning a single eyebrow raise from you in return. “I mean...I guess what I’m trying to say is...it’s so easy to hate...why didn’t you fall into that trap?”. 

“Well, I did, for a little. It was almost tempting to look at every person I saw struggling with alcoholism in red. Since the man who caused the collision was already dead as a result of his own mistakes, at times I’d externalise part of that pain I was feeling onto others, and sometimes that anger became so hot and so burning that it was almost impossible to ignore. I realised pretty quickly that hating alcoholics wasn’t going to bring my parents back and that I’d have to make peace with their passing at some point. Honestly, I still haven’t processed a lot of that shit myself yet I’m still out here living my life as best I can, and really, with my own drinking habits I’d be a goddamn hypocrite to even try to find any true hatred in my heart towards heavy drinkers” you explained. Taking one last sip of bourbon, you discarded your glass off to your side and chuckled lightheartedly. “God, If I drink another glass I’m gonna collapse on the fucking floor. Think it might be time for me to turn in for the night. At least it’s Sunday tomorrow so we can sleep in a lil”.

“Y-you’re goin’ to bed? You’re not telling me to get lost or anything?” Jack sputtered in disbelief, which in turn earned him a minorly strange look from you. “Why would I do that?” you asked. 

“I quite literally just admitted to treason against my former organization to you”. 

“So? You made a mistake. A pretty fucking big mistake, and a shitty one at that, but still, a mistake. You obviously have some of your own pain you need to work through, and I can get that. Doesn’t mean I agree with what you did, but I get it. I’m not gonna kick you to the curb just because you have issues”.Upon saying that, you hoisted yourself up by latching your free arm onto the veranda’s fenceline, stumbling a little as you fought to maintain your balance while being both drunk and unable to fully utilise one of your arms. Nevertheless, you’d managed to straighten yourself up, and once you’d determined that you were alright to take yourself upstairs you faced on towards the front door and grasped at the brass knob in your hands, taking a brief pause to turn back and nod softly towards the man behind you. “Night Jack, I’ll see ya tomorrow” you called out, leaving him to sit there and watch you disappear back into the house with a certain look of dumbfounded astonishment.

Tag list (lemme know if you wanna be added): @giselatropicana​

#agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey #jack daniels #jack daniels x reader #Kingsman #kingsman fanfiction #cross my heart #Kingsman: the golden circle #Pedro Pascal

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Rainbow

Prompt: have you ever heard the song rainbow by dodie? i just heard it for the first time and i cant think of anything except how much it makes me think of poor bb Merlin. if you're interested could you maybe write a little fic based on it or something? it basically just makes me think about how Merlin would feel the first time Arthur and the knights compliment him on his magic, which is something he's been so conditioned to hate and think is monstrous his whole life (':

Thank you for the prompt, babe!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none!

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 2709

Merlin is magic.

The world doesn't like magic.

...does it?

The first time he sees Percival smile at him, he almost drops his bag.

 He’d barged into the armory, rubbed the wrong way from Arthur’s jests that had hit a little too close to home. Sure, in a few hours the prat would act like nothing was wrong or give Merlin some sort of soft look that would be an unspoken apology, but right now, he’s angry.

 Merlin angry is never a good thing, but it’s even less of a good thing when he’s got no one to talk to. His magic tends to…protest. A little. He’s gotten a pretty good handle on it over the years, but he’s not perfect.

 So when he swings open the door and the wooden boards decide now is the time to careen into a rack of swords, he barely glares in their direction before they freeze and sheepishly retreat back to their previous positions. He huffs and sets about getting the gloves mended.

 “Wish you could do that to the others.”

 He doesn’t want to say he jumps, because his feet never actually leave the ground, but…

 Percival isn’t paying attention to him. He just looks at the rack of swords, perfectly pristine, as if nothing ever happened. He turns to Merlin.

 “Can you do that all the time?”

 “Uh—technically, yes?”

 Percival’s face splits into a grin so wide Merlin would be worried if he didn’t know that spark behind Percival’s eyes. He echoes it warily.

 “You’re quite the man,” he says instead, clapping Merlin once on the shoulder as he leaves, “and I am honored to bear witness to it.”

 …see now normally Gwaine’s the one for flowery compliments, so coming from Percival…

 Merlin shakes it off and gets back to work. But if his face is turning up into a smile rather than the glower he’d been wearing, well, that’s just good for his worry lines.

 The first time Elyan claps him on the shoulder and says he should learn a thing or two about magic from him, Merlin stares at him like his eyes have sprouted into stalks.

 “I mean,” Elyan says as he gestures to the part of his side that’s still tingling with Merlin’s magic, “if you can make it so I don’t need stitches ever again, I’d better start paying attention, hmm?”

 Merlin blinks, still wondering whether there’s an infection settling in that would explain why Elyan is complimenting his magic. “…you could always talk to Gaius.”

 Elyan waves his hand. “I’ve gotten the battle healer speech more times than I can count, and I’ve no interest in becoming a court physician.”

 “Then you’re out of options.”

 “If you’re expecting me to believe Gaius doesn’t know anything about healing magic, I’m not going to believe you.”

 “I never said he didn’t.”

 Elyan fixes him with a look. “I could always ask you.”

 “But I learned from Gaius.”

 “Then I’ll talk to Gaius about healing magic.”

 “You shouldn’t,” Merlin blurts, “you shouldn’t talk to Gaius.”

 Elyan tilts his head. “But you just said you learned it from Gaius.”

 “I did, but—“

 “...but?”

 Merlin’s mouth opens and closes like a fish. Elyan just lies there, on the ground, as the others bicker about who’s looting what bandit. Children, honestly.

 But he can’t let them know Gaius is involved. Gaius has tried so hard to absolve himself of magic, to leave it in the past, to—to hide his magic. Told Merlin to hide it too.

 “Merlin?” Is that Elyan? “Merlin? What’s happening?”

 Merlin blinks. “What?”

 “You went away for a moment there.” Elyan frowns. “Are you alright?”

 “Yes! Yes, I’m fine, you’re the one who got shot.”

 He runs a hand over his side. “Doesn’t feel like it anymore, not thanks to you.”

 The knight gets to his feet, adjusting his tunic and armor. He smiles, reaching down to offer Merlin a hand up. Merlin takes it, still dazed.

 “We can speak about this later,” he says, “but I would like to learn from you.”

 “From m-me?”

 “Yes, Merlin, from you.”

 With that, Elyan disappears behind him. A few seconds later, he can hear him shouting with Gwaine. Merlin’s still frozen, looking down at his hands. Are they—huh.

 If he doesn’t bother to hide the golden curl of sparks around his irises the next time, well, it’s just that he wants to be sure Elyan knows exactly what the magic is.

 The first time Lancelot asks him what his favorite spell is, he drags the man into a secluded corner of the palace and hisses at him.

 “What is your problem?”

 “Easy,” Lancelot soothes, holding his hands up and letting Merlin fist his tunic, “I meant no offense.”

 “Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

 “What? Asking you what your favorite sp—“

 “Shut up,” Merlin growls, his hand flattening over Lancelot’s mouth, glancing around frantically, “someone could hear you.”

 A weathered hand covers his and he lets Lancelot guide his hand away, still glowering. The knight just raises his eyebrows.

 “Is it an offense to all the others that you know to pick a favorite?”

 “What? No, that’s not—they don’t care, it’s not like they’re sentient.”

 “Then forgive me—“ and how is Merlin supposed to stay angry when Lancelot smiles like that—“but I do not see the problem.”

 “You can’t just talk about magic like that,” Merlin whispers angrily, “not out in the open.”

 “Merlin, in the time that I’ve known you, you’ve done magic more brazenly than I just spoke of it.”

 “That’s different!”

 “On multiple occasions,” he continues, still smiling, “you’ve done it in front of people that would happily have seen you killed for it.”

 “Hence why I don’t really want it being spoken about!”

 Something seems to flicker across Lancelot’s face and he steps forward, gently taking Merlin by the elbows. “Merlin,” he says softly, “none of those people are here.”

 “You don’t know that.”

 “I do,” the knight corrects softly, that blasted smile still in place, “I do know that because Arthur has rooted them all out. And I’ve helped.”

 “You’ve—“ Merlin blinks in surprise— “you’ve what?”

 “There is no member of court that openly despises magic,” Lancelot insists, “and none that would dare harm a single hair on your head.”

 Merlin’s fear fizzles and spurts in his chest, soothed in part by Lancelot’s grip. He swallows heavily, letting his head drop. It meets Lancelot’s sternum with a gentle thud.

 “Sorry.”

 “Don’t apologize,” Lancelot says immediately, his chest rumbling against Merlin’s forehead, “you’ve done nothing wrong. If anything it is I who must apologize.”

 “No, it’s okay.” Merlin takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

 “So?”

 “So?”

 “What’s your favorite spell?”

 Merlin glances around them. There’s a window overlooking the training field not too far. Tugging Lancelot along by his sleeve, he peers outside. No one.

 “Let’s go.”

 “Oh, we need to be outside?”

 “It’ll be less suspicious.”

 If Lancelot has any issue with it, he keeps it to himself. Instead he just chuckles and lets Merlin pull him outside like an anxious toddler. He lifts a hand to block the sun from his eyes as he watches Merlin wring his hands.

 “You needn’t show me if you don’t want to.”

 “No, no, it’s fine, I just…” he takes a deep breath, “I haven’t cast this in a while.”

 He cups his hands around his mouth and murmurs softly. As he parts them, a swarm of vibrant blue butterflies fills the air around them, fluttering up from the safety of his palms. A soft smile crosses his face as he watches them fly up into the golden sun.

 “Miraculous,” he hears Lancelot murmur distantly, still caught up in the swirl of wings, “truly miraculous.”

 If Merlin lets one of the butterflies linger on Lancelot’s shoulder for a little longer, well, he’s just apologizing for dragging the man into this with him.

 The first time Gwaine calls him beautiful, he laughs.

 To say that Gwaine is a flirt is perhaps the greatest understatement in Camelot other than Kilgarrah isn’t concise.

 Seriously. He doesn’t begrudge the dragon his fun—being locked and chained in a cave under Uther Pendragon is enough to drive anyone insane with boredom—but come on.

 Anyway. Merlin’s turning away from Gwaine, dismissing the man as drunk again, only for there to be a gentle hand on his elbow turning him back.

 “I heard you the first time, Gwaine.”

 “And you laughed like you didn’t believe me.”

 “Because you’re—“

 Merlin’s eyes land on Gwaine’s and he pauses. Gwaine’s eyes are clear. Not dazed or fogged by spirits in the slightest. His mouth isn’t lolling to the side, bared in some audacious smirk, it’s not even smiling.

 Instead, Gwaine looks the most serious Merlin’s ever seen him, bar the time he got stabbed and Gwaine pressed down on his stomach like a man possessed. It makes him want to laugh again, break the tension, get Gwaine back to his normal flirty self. But his laugh comes out choked and awkward and Gwaine still hasn’t blinked.

 “If you’re looking for a warm body,” he tries instead, “try somewhere else.”

 “I’m not, Merlin,” Gwaine says with a seriousness that makes Merlin wobble. “Nor am I joking.”

 “I’m not beautiful, Gwaine.”

 “Why not?” Gwaine looks him up and down. “Because you don’t think you are or because some nitwits told you you’re not?”

 “…both?”

 “You’re wrong,” Gwaine says softly, “you’re both wrong.”

 Merlin just huffs and makes to turn away again. Gwaine stops him, standing slowly.

 “Why don’t you want to hear this?”

 “Because I don’t know what you want, Gwaine. And you should know you don’t have to ply me to get me to give you what you want.”

 “What if I don’t want anything?” Gwaine won’t let go of him. “What are you running from?”

 Merlin sighs. He lets his head hang and sets the jug on the table next to him.

 “I’m not—Gwaine, what…why?”

 “Because no one’s ever told you, Merlin,” the knight says, finally smiling as he runs his thumb along the sleeve of Merlin’s tunic, “and you deserve to hear it.”

 Merlin swallows heavily. “What makes you think I’m beautiful?”

 “Not to sound too brash—“

 “Since when have you cared about sounding brash?”

 He accepts the jibe with a nod, still smiling incredulously. “—but have you ever seen yourself when you do magic?”

 Merlin’s cheeks burn.

 He knows what Gwaine’s talking about. Some young upstart on the training field decided to show off like a pigeon about to be plucked and launched an errant spear in Merlin’s direction. He barely lifted an eyebrow and it dodged to the side as he fixed the squire with a look that said ‘do that again and it’ll be your head.’

 The knights had talked about it for hours.

 “Gwaine, I—“

 “Merlin,” Gwaine says instead, “why do you think your magic isn’t beautiful?”

 Ah.

 Well.

 That’s an interesting question.

 One that Merlin would much rather never answer or hear again, thank you very much.

 Gwaine, unfortunately, is not going to let him get away with that.

 “Merlin,” the knight prods, “Merlin?”

 Merlin’s face twists into an awful grimace. Gwaine doesn’t falter, just waits patiently.

 “Because it’s magic,” Merlin spits eventually, “it’s not supposed to be.”

 “Most things that are beautiful aren’t supposed to be.”

 “But—“

 “And just because they aren’t supposed to be doesn’t mean they are,” he continues gently. “And I don’t like seeing you grimace every time someone mentions it.”

 Merlin blinks. “I what?”

 “You make a face,” Gwaine says, “whenever people mention your magic. Like you wish you could’ve hidden it better.”

 “Because most people want me to use my magic for—“

 He cuts himself off. He shouldn’t have said that. He should not have said that. Gwaine just gives him a gentle squeeze of encouragement.

 “People want my magic,” he says eventually, “not—not—“

 “Not you?”

 Merlin nods miserably.

 “Well,” the knight says quietly, “we do. We want you. Magic and all.”

 Merlin blinks. Why did—?

 Oh. Now Gwaine’s leaving. As the door shuts behind him, Merlin stands completely still, puzzling over the words still ringing in his head.

  Magic and all.

 Merlin is inseparable from his magic. He is magic. Anyone who wants his magic is going to get—

 Oh.

  Oh.

  ‘We want you. Magic and all.’

 Most people who want his magic don’t want the man attached to it. Or rather, they do, because they want the scapegoat of someone to blame when the magic finally pays off. And most people who want Merlin don’t want the magic. Because—because—

 But Gwaine said they do.

 If Merlin stands there for a few more minutes before casting a simple spell in front of a mirror for the first time, well, he just—he just wants to see.

 The first time Leon pulls him into a hug he cries.

 “Come,” the knight murmurs, opening his arms and letting the great red cape spread out behind him, “shed your tears, Merlin, it’s alright.”

 Merlin all but falls into the firm cradle of Leon’s embrace, letting the knight tuck his head into the ginger curls and cup the back of his neck. His breaths are coming in great shuddering gasps and it hurts, it hurts, his veins feel like they’re on fire.

 “Calm yourself, Merlin,” Leon says in a low, even voice, “it’s alright. You’re safe.”

 Merlin’s safe, because Merlin has magic, but Leon isn’t. Leon is just a knight—he’s never been just a knight, but he’s just a knight, and Merlin is fire and chaos and he will hurt him.

 “You won’t,” comes the steady reply when Merlin whimpers that he will, Leon has to run before he destroys him, “you wouldn’t hurt me, Merlin, not ever.”

 But I could, an awful voice whispers in his head, I could tear you apart, bit by bit, without even lifting a finger.

 Something clenches in his gut that sends it roiling. He pitches to the side and dry heaves, horrible bitterness coating the back of his tongue.

 “You’re alright,” Leon murmurs, still rubbing his back in slow, reassuring circles, “it’s alright, Merlin, everything’s alright.”

 “No—no—it’s not—“

 “Hush now, Merlin, don’t try and speak yet, just let this go.”

 The ball of hurt in Merlin’s stomach snaps and unsnaps, coiling and recoiling until he’s dizzy, leaning entirely on Leon. Leon, of course, doesn’t even flinch at having the weight of an entire man on him. Instead, he sweeps Merlin into his arms and carries him a little further, settling him on the ground and wrapping his cape protectively around the two of them.

 “It’s all gone—“ Merlin chokes— “I destroyed it, I destroy everything—“

 “That’s not true, Merlin,” Leon says softly, “you know it isn’t.”

 “I ruin everything!”

 “You don’t,” comes the reassurance, soft, steady, unwavering, “and you know you don’t. Everything is alright, Merlin, no one is hurt, nothing is the matter, just rest.”

 “I’m sorry,” he gasps out, unable to escape the blackness roiling in his chest, “I’m sorry I have magic.”

 Shame blossoms in the wake of his words, the tears following shortly after.

 Leon simply wipes them away with a gentle hand, soothing Merlin’s whispered apologies with every stroke.

 “Never apologize for being who you are, Merlin,” Leon says firmly, holding Merlin’s unflinching gaze, “the world would be all the lesser for it.”

 “P-promise?”

 It’s the plea of a child. A desperate, frightened, lonely child.

 If Merlin refuses to let go of Leon for the next few hours after Leon promises, well, that’s his business, not yours.

 The first time Arthur tells him that he loves him, Merlin smiles as he tells him he loves him back.

#bbc merlin #Merlin #merlin bbc #merthur #merthur fic #fic #dragonbabbles

[simpmeon]

Red: Sunlight

Pairing: Any Demon Brother x Gender Neutral MC, Diavolo x Gender Neutral MC

Genre: Angst/ Smut

Word Count: 4k

Rating: R

Warnings: Cursing//  // Blood // Violence 

A/N: SO SORRY ABOUT THE LONG AWAITED SECOND TO LAST CHAPTER OF THIS SERIES! I APPRECIATE ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT!!!! I was having a lot of mental health issues and between working two jobs and falling out of Obey Me for a hot minute, I just never found the time or motivation to continue the story. BUT!!!! I FINALLY DID!!! (I kinda speeded through writing it so it may not be the best in actual writing but plot? A+) ENJOY!!!!

You loved him. Since the minute your feet hit the smooth stones of the RAD Student Council Room, you were lovestruck. He was the ray of sun that shone brightly against the never-ending night of Devildom.

Maybe dying was the best thing to ever happen to you. Because without the darkness, you would have never found your sunlight.

The Fall // Rebirth // Betrayal // Companions // Revenge // Sunlight

Dying is something that should not be familiar. You should not be familiar with the sensation of your soul slipping through the living world’s veil and the now cold darkness of death. Can you die twice? Where will you even go? You felt like you were swimming in syrup, darkness covering your senses. You could see your wings lifted high above either side of your head, your arms swaying lazily through the darkness. You could hear your name being said over and over, but you could never make out who or why it was being said. Your body was cold. Everything waes cold. Through your stupor you can see the familiar white glow of life casting a soft shine on your face. You can see the light start to fade slowly into the darkness of the void around you, almost as slowly as you descended further and further into the substance that enveloped you. You closed your eyes, trying to except the fact that this is the best option for everyone. Maybe your death should be a permanent fixture.

After all you disgraced the great prince, and will probably disgrace the great king. You’re a monster. Nothing more and nothing less. 

Monster...

The word felt like a whisper. You do not even know if your mind said it or not. 

N...not..... 

You could see light hitting your eyelids, turning your vision red. Sweet death has you wrapped around their hand once more. 

Not a monster.... 

The voice was clearer than before, as if the person who was speaking to you was closer to you. You slowly opened your eyes, and saw the bright white light illuminating your feathers. You could barely make out the shape of a face in the light, but there was one there. 

Y/N please....you’re not a monster....you were never a monster. 

You suddenly got s shot of adrenaline as the face became clearer and you could see his face. Diavolo’s face, laced with concern, tears falling down his cheeks. You knew he was never an angel, but surrounded by the halo of light, he looked like one. He was in his demon form, the horns twisting in the shadow of the light. You could feel the warmth of his hands on your cold body, a hand cradling your head, another wrapped around your lower back between your lower wings. 

You struggled against the sticky substance that kept you bound to your descent, trying to force an arm free to touch him. You struggled so much and so hard you broke a sweat and tears stung your cheek. You felt an arm break through the substance, as if you were breaking through the top layer of water in an ocean. The air was cold around your arm as you continued to drive yourself through the liquid, chasing the light and the man who made you feel whole again. Perhaps you were another Icarus foolishly chasing after the sunlight, refusing to accept your death shall you actually touch the light. Your head breached from the liquid, your wings following. They were twisted and mangled, but they knew where to carry you. You clumsily spread them and twisted them against the strong wind of the void, tears streaming as your clawed your way through the air streams, nothing but the warmth of Diavolo keeping you strong. 

No you can’t die. Not yet. You had a beautiful prince to marry, a kick ass demon form...a chosen family who loves you more than anything in this world. The light was becoming blinding to you now as you went deeper and deeper into the warmth. A smile spread across your face as his face got closer and closer to your arms. 

You could feel your wings stretch out as you picked up speed to hurtle yourself into Diavolo. He was sunlight in the darkness of the ocean. His love for you is like sunlight when all hope is lost. Your wings gave a triumphant flick, as if they shed an old skin and are new. The void around you disappeared as your vision was covered in light all around you. You felt warm again. You felt alive again. You closed your eyes as you flew at top speed towards the man you will have a forever with. 

Y/N .....please come back to me... 

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

There was sharp intake of breath as you shot awake, the crisp Devildom air burning your lungs and esophagus. Your arms acted without your command and wrapped themselves around Diavolo, your sobs drowning out anything he could say. All he did really was gingerly wrap his arms back around you, his gentle fingers toying with the feathers of your wings. 

“Y/N....” He whispered into your hair as the sobs started dying down. “Please tell me this is not some cruel joke....” 

“Diavolo.....it’s me.” You pulled back from his arms to get a good look at his face and the state he was in was heartbreaking. His auburn hair was tossed about, scratchy hairs have sprouted on his chin, and the dark circles under his eyes highlighted his amber eyes, making them almost glow against the darkness. He looked so withered down and exhausted. He breathed a sigh of relief, some of his own tears falling as he brought you into his arms again. His skin was warm to the touch, and after the bitter cold you were just suffering in, to have him wrapped around you like this was comforting. The silence between you two was comforting and suffocating. So much needed to be said, but both of you were too tired to say anything, more interested in tracing patterns in between each other’s shoulder blades. 

“How long has it been....” You finally asked, your cheek against his chest. He sighed again and kissed the top of your head, playing with your hair. 

“Almost a month. You know it would have been a month tomorrow on the dot but now I’m left to suffer at the thought of you being in a coma for 30 days, you couldn’t have waited until tomorrow to make it a nice even number?” He jested, but the joke had a somewhat hollow tone to it. 

“A month?” You whispered. You could not believe that almost a month has passed since you were last wrapped up in his arms. That’s when you took to notice the scenery around you and you felt a wave of shock rush through you as you saw the familiar tree and the canopy bed. You looked over at your desk that has remained untouched since you left Devildom as a human, only to return as a demon. You were in the House of Lamentation, but the walls seemed too quiet for your liking. 

“Where is everyone?” You asked Diavolo, trying to lift yourself from the mountain of covers, a panic swelling in your chest before Diavolo stopped you with a soft, yet curt push back down into the bed. 

“They’re at RAD right now, no need to worry.” Diavolo responded, kissing your cheek. Your cheek felt warm from where his lips connected to your skin. Comforting in your state of shock. “They’ll be back soon enough, and I’m sure each one of them will do their checks on you.” 

“Checks?” You asked, looking at his tired eyes. 

“Yes my love, one of them comes in for about fifteen minutes at the top of the hour. Just to check your vitals or if it’s Lucifer, he usually takes about forty five minutes debriefing me on any new news in Devildom while also checking on you.” He explained, smoothing the hair out of your face. His fingers were feather light against your skin. 

“And where were you during all this?” You asked curiously, already knowing the answer. How can you not, with the state he was in. He let out a small chuckle before placing his lips to yours softly.

“Praying for you to wake up. Imagine that. The future King of Hell...praying. I swear Lucifer almost wet himself when he walked in on me doing so. Thought I was going to burst in flames.” He chuckled, your noses rubbing together gingerly. “The damage done to your body was so severe I was surprised you even managed to breathe.” 

You stared at him, puzzled. You felt okay now, certainly not the greatest, but you have been through much worse in terms of pain. 

“What do you mean-” You asked, trying to sit up again, but Diavolo pushing you down again. 

“Well after you broke a certain brother’s arm into over a thousand pieces, you just started clawing at yourself and then shot straight into the air. Of course there’s a glass ceiling in the royal ballroom so there was quite a bit of damage from the glass, and with the cold air I’m pretty sure that did not help matters. Of course I immediately followed you, the brothers could take care of the party with Barbatos and Simeon. You’re flight pattern was super erratic and I could barely keep up with you. You started yanking out your feathers by the fistful and that’s when you suddenly dropped. You were far higher and farther away than I was, so I pushed myself to get to you in time, but unfortunately you already made impact with the ground. I still don’t understand how you survived the fall, the crater that you caused was at least sixty feet in length and twenty feet deep. With my heightened senses I could hear that you were very uh.....broken to say the least." Diavolo explained, slowly climbing in bed with you gingerly. All his movements seemed to be calculated as if he were afraid that one slight dink to your body will crumble you again. He hasn't been this careful since you were a human.

"How broken?" You asked, now understanding your overall throbbing pain. Even though you heal exceptionally faster as a demon, the damage done must've been severe for you to take a month to heal.

"Um....your back took most of the damage so aside from your wings being rendered virtually useless, you also completely shattered most of your spinal column. Your ribs were also cracked in various places as well. Same with your legs and arms. Also there was damage to your skull. So let's just say that the answer to that is extremely broken. I've never seen a demon take so much impact before and survive..." He said, facing you under the covers. He sweetly kissed your lips, the exhaustion finally catching up to him with every sleepy blink he took. "You really are one in a million."

He slowly wrapped his arms around your body, being super careful of everything, bringing you closer to his chest. Words can't describe how much you missed him. His heartbeat quickly synced to yours and within seconds he was fast asleep. You slowly drew patterns on his back and hummed a tune, kissing his forehead every now and then to remind him that you were still there.

The only thing that broke the tranquility of it all was when you heard a soft knock at the door. Diavolo started to stir slightly, but you hushed him to sleep.

"Come in." You responded. At the sound of your voice the door damn near fell of its hinges as your ex lover entered the room. You hissed at the man and motioned towards Diavolo, who was still wrapped up in your arms. The brother gave you an apologetic look and softly closed the door behind him, leaving nothing but the three of you in a suffocating silence. Diavolo mentioned that some brothers take longer than others, but that they rotate every hour to make sure that you're okay. He coughed to try to break apart the silence in the room but you genuinely had no idea what to say. Luckily, you didn't have to say anything as he slowly made his way over to your nightstand to lay the ring on the string next to your desk.

"Oh?" You asked, suspicions rising with the action. He glanced at you for a moment and swallowed hard.

"I knew you were here when I found this in the hallway. You always wore it around your neck because you were worried that you would lose the ring somewhere...." He explained, shuffling from one foot to the other. Despite the obvious tension in the air, he managed a soft smile. "I remember making fun of you for it-"

"Save the nostalgia." You growled, making him recoil for a second. He blinked in surprise at your words, but deep down your hatred with him was deserved.

"I'm sorry..." He whispered, turning his back to you. You know better than anyone that tears were forming in his eyes and thats why he turned around. "I'm the reason you're down here."

"Yep." You replied, not even regarding his emotions. He flinched at your words, but you did not care. Why should you? Clearly he had no regard for yours.

"Im sorry Y/N I just got lonely-"

"Do you think I wasn't? I had everyone lining down the damn block to get in my pants in the human world and I still remained loyal to you and only you. I didn't slip up once. I put in the effort. I put in the time to try to make this work between us. But you decided to not only completely ignore me but also cheat on me with a new bitch every year?!-"

"Its not my fault you didn't want to marry me."

Now you were pissed. Had Diavolo not been sleeping peacefully in your arms you would have slapped the ever living hell out of the man before you. He realized he struck a nerve when your aura started taking shape. The air around the room became significantly hotter and if looks could kill, this man would die a million times over.

"I- I'm sor-"

"You always fucking say I'm sorry, but I'm starting to doubt you even mean it. You know why I didn't want to marry you? Because I wanted to think things over. Make sure you were who I truly wanted and desired. I'm now glad, elated even that I didn't have to become your partner." You spat the last sentence out with so much acid you could feel the hole they made in his heart. He was livid now.

"What the fuck did you have to think over? You would have been happy here. We all could have been a big happy family, so tell me Y/N what did you have to think over? You know its really funny to me how you preached about unfaithfulness when you yourself were in love with another when dating me."

"I loved you."

"No you didnt!" He yelled, throwing your books off the shelves, leaving claw marks on the stone, tears flowing freely now. "You never did! It was always Diavolo that you were madly in love with since the beginning!"

"You don't know that!" You yelled back, standing up from the bed, demon form out. It hurt. Your own form seemed to be rejecting your body, but you will not back down. He let out a low laugh, shoving you back down onto the bed with force. You hissed in pain with just his hand making contact with your chest.

"Diavolo......" You whispered hoping to stir him slightly. The brother was sauntering over to you, clearly enraged now.

"Diavolo-" You said louder, shaking him slightly.

"Everyone did. You really played me like a fool , I admire your acting skills for that. You played everyone. You even played yourself as a lovestruck idiot for me, but we all really know who all the kisses, all the sweet nothings, all the breathy moans into the night were really for." He hissed, his demon form shuddering into view. He placed a claw into your arm and dug deep, making you yelp. Blood started trickling down your arm at the contact. "Now say his name."

"DIAVOLO!" You screamed out, and in a flash the brothers body was hurtled through the walls of the House of Lamentation. Diavolo stood in front of your body, arms out protectively. The brother stumbled to his feet , anger rising within him.

"I don't want to hurt you. You know that more than anyone. I would sooner forfeit all my abilities than harm you or your brothers. However...lay a finger on them again and I will not hesitate to hurt you." He stated, eerily calm. The brother growled in defiance, but refrained from charging the room again. His other brothers held his arms back, but there was an energy that radiated through the two rooms. It was as if an invisible line had been drawn in the sand, and you were trapped on one end.

Did you love Diavolo since you met him? Yes.

Did you also fall for the brother and his family? Yes.

You did the only possible thing you could think of at that moment which was stand up, shifting out of your demon form and resorting back to the broken and bruised form that you had before. You put Diavolo's arm down and before he could sputter out a protest, you gave him a look that could silence God himself. You slowly inched your way around the rubble, pulling your blanket tighter to your body with each step.

You felt like a toddler walking around for the first time. One of the brothers sensed your general unsteadiness after not walking for a month and gently guided you to the brother who was being held back. He merely glared at you, but his demon form also subsided. Even though four years have passed since you had an actually good look of his face, and weren’t trying to break it, the two of you can still almost read each others thoughts. Communicating with minute changes in expression always made the brothers not notice what you were conversing, and even now they're just as clueless. Even more so now that he puts his hand behind your back to steady you as you two made yourself over to his bedroom.

You shut the door behind you, the last time you did so was because you two were about to pleasure each other until one of the brothers would barge in and threaten to whip him for a thousand years, even though you're the one who initiated it most of the time. You slowly let go of the door handle, swallowing the pride you had and facing him. He spread out on his bed, his eyes never leaving you. The tension in the air is palpable at this point. You both continued to have your silent argument, until you slammed your fist against the door, causing the door to splinter underneath you. He flinched at the sound.

"For once in your goddamn life can you admit that you were wrong?!” You whispered sternly. You wanted to scream it out, but you also didn’t want to attract Diavolo and the rest of his family. “I vowed  on that day to love you until the end of time did I not?” 

He scoffed in response, crossing his arms. You walked over to him, squaring up to match his height as best as you could. 

“Did. I. Not?” You emphasized each word, never breaking eye contact. He let out a growl, but one look from you silenced it. 

“I might recall you saying that.” He admitted, although forcefully. 

“I loved you. I really did. I was committed to you and only you.” You said, grabbing his hands in yours. They felt the same as they did four years ago. “So why? Why did you not do the same?” 

He shoved his hands out of yours, crossing his arms again and crashing on the bed beneath him, but he wasn’t doing so out of annoyance this time. He was trying to keep himself from crumpling. 

“Because....I was trying to fill a void. I fell in love with a human of all creatures and I loved every second of it. But....around here. It’s more acceptable to fuck multiple humans than to settle down with one. At least....that’s what I told myself. I thought by not talking to you, you would get mad at me. I hoped that every call you made would be the last one. I screwed around with the other exchange students, but....Alex is different.” He explained. You quirked an eyebrow at him. He sighed and ran his hand through his locks before continuing. “The redheaded exchange student. They’re different. They feel different than the others.....” 

“Good different?” You asked, taking a seat next to him, relaxing now that he’s talking to you again. You saw a fond smile on his lips, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. 

“Yes. They’re the closest thing to filling that void. That’s why I completely ignored you....I thought you would just forget about me. So you didn’t have to be hurt by my actions. I wanted you to have a better life....one where you weren’t trapped in a relationship with me.” He admitted softly, wrapping his arms  tighter against his body. You felt him shudder next to you, followed by a sniff. You looked over and saw that he was crying. “Guess I fucked that one up too.” 

“Hey.” You said, making him look at you with his teary eyes. You didn’t even hesitate, you just slowly wrapped your arms around him and held him there. He tensed up at your touch at first, but slowly sand back into it. You slowly rubbed circles into his back. You weren’t going to forgive him so easily, but right now he just needs the comforting touch. “What you did was shitty as fuck. Seriously. But....I’m glad you found someone.” 

He simply nodded, the two of you attached to each other. Moments like this would usually be so calming to both of you, but now the feeling was foreign. Not exactly bad, but not quite the same.  

“I guess I’m glad you didn’t end up with some rotten human....” He whispered. You nodded your head and pulled away from him. “If anything....Diavolo is a great guy...I hope he treats you better than I did.” 

“Thank you...” You said with a small smile. “...I’m sorry for what I said at the party and five minutes ago....” 

“No no no. I’m sorry for what I said.” He responded. 

“No what I said was far worse.” You challenged with a slight smirk. 

“Did that fall cause brain damage? I- oh wait I know what you’re doing.” He started to counter, but realized immediately what you were trying to do. Just like old times. You both let out a laugh, finally feeling better now that the tension is gone, and a more comfortable silence replaced it. 

“So... are you going to marry Alex?” You asked, looking back at the brother. He seemed to ponder the question for a while, fidgeting with his fingers. 

“I was planning on asking them tonight....” He responded awkwardly, coughing into his hand. Your eyebrows shot up in shock. “They’re currently at Purgatory Hall, seeing as you took over their bed.”

“It was my bed first anyway.” You snubbed. He chuckled at that. 

“What about you and Diavolo?” He asked. You blinked and looked at him. 

“What about us?” You asked. He looked at you like you were a complete idiot, another laugh escaping. 

“Are you two getting married?” He asked again, a small smile on his lips. You parted your mouth to say something, but the doors to the bedroom swung open dramatically and in strutted Diavolo. 

“I-”

“If you think I’m going to sit here and propose to you in front of your ex boyfriend, you’re dead wrong.” He responded, outstretching a hand to you, a smile as big as could be stretching his face out. You let out a genuine laugh, grasping his hand gently as he slowly pushed you into his arms. Not the typical proposal you would assume Diavolo would do, but there was something so entrancing and comforting about him that you couldn’t say no. You loved him. Since the minute your feet hit the smooth stones of the RAD Student Council Room, you were lovestruck. He was the ray of sun that shone brightly against the never-ending night of Devildom. 

Maybe dying was the best thing to ever happen to you. Because without the darkness, you would have never found your sunlight. 

#my works #obey me #lucifer #mammon #levi #leviathan #satan #asmo #asmodeus #beel #beelzebub #belphie #belphegor #simeon #luke #solomon #diavolo #barbatos #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me simeon

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

Santa Stole My Girlfriend

Fandom: Friends

Pairing: Chandler Bing x Original Character x Joey Tribbiani

Characters: Chandler Bing, Original Character, Joey Tribbiani, Ross Geller, Monica Geller, Phoebe Buffay, Rachel Green

Word Count: 1558

Rating: Teen

Tags: One Night Stand, Upset, Angst, Advent Calendar, Songfic, Christmas, Santa, Santa Suit, Flirting, Present Giving, Secret Santa

Summary: Santa, you player I thought we were friends.

Notes: Santa Stole My Girlfriend - The Maine https://youtu.be/d_Pap_GEOyg [updated 9/22]

Advent Calendar of Fics // Day Seventeen  

The party was in full swing. Once again Monica had played hostess to an epic standard. Decorations covered every surface of both apartments. Food was dotted on all available table space and the music thumped providing a welcomed soundtrack to people's conversations. Chandler had made himself cosy by the foosball table. It was a good way of interacting without having to chat much. That was Chandler’s wheelhouse. He was managing well. He had drank a few beers and talked to a few people he didn’t know and was now chilling with a beer while talking to Ross. He was sitting on the lip of the foosball table, balanced precariously over the handlebars when suddenly his balance went from underneath him and he had to leap off of the table to keep from falling. He turned around to find a cute girl standing watching him from the other side of the table. She had a devilish smile on her face, ‘you shouldn’t sit where people want to play you know.’

‘Oh yeah?’ he said.

‘Yeah,’ she replied, ‘besides I doubt those little guys like being subjugated to being sat on.’

‘I bet you’re right,’ he said, ‘so do you want a game or are you just concerned for little wooden men's welfare?

‘I’m an activist for it but I’m all for keeping them in a job,’ she joked. Chandler liked her. She was cute and funny. She seemed to be able to take his jokes and rebuff them back to him which he liked.

‘Do you want to play doubles?’ Ross said as he watched from the sidelines.

‘You have no idea how much I don’t want that,’ Chandler said turning so that only Ross could see his face. His eyes bulged out as he tried to signal for Ross to leave them which he did with a huff. He turned back to see the girl setting up to start the game.

‘So,’ he said as she started the ball rolling, ‘are you having a good time?’

‘Oh yeah, I love parties where I know almost no one,’ she chuckled.

‘I know what you mean. Why do you think I cling to this so much,’ he chuckled before he flicked his wrist causing one of his men to hit the ball with such force the ball darted from one end of the table to the other and into her goal.

‘I see that’s why you’re so good,’ she commented realigning herself.

‘You could say it’s my greatest skill,’ he said, ‘or my only skill.’

‘Then it’s a good job you’re cute,’ she said. He was flummoxed. His cheeks flushed red at the compliment and he had to look away so she wouldn’t see how embarrassed he had become. It was an action that went against him as she immediately took the chance to score against him.

‘But not very smart!’ she laughed. Chandler scowled in jest. They played for over an hour. It was a tense competition that eventually gained viewers from both apartments. People watched and jeered as the rivalry grew. Some people even betted on them. It was a dead heat. They were tied 5-5 and Monica was pestering everyone to come open presents in her apartment. The group had groaned but conceded to come after the final match.

‘Okay, okay,’ Chandler said as the crowd chattered around them about bets and wagers.

‘What?’ the girl he had found out was called Alex said.

‘Let’s make this interesting.’

‘What did you have in mind?’ she asked.

‘If I win you have to kiss me,’ he said bravely. The crowd oohed.

‘What if I win?’

‘Make your choice,’ Chandler replied.

‘If I win you have to take me to dinner. Somewhere nice with no guarantees of a kiss at the end.’

‘Fine,’ he said offering a hand forward which she grabbed with gusto and shook.

‘Let’s play.’

It was tense. It was the first one to ten but they were on their best game. The small gathering around them built the tension at every turn with their cheering and booing until finally, Chandler sunk his final shot ending the game and declaring victory.

‘That’s game!’ He said high giving some of the onlookers and walking around the table to Alex who stood in front of him with a pout on her face.

‘Lucky shot,’ she scoffed but Chandler said nothing and instead just bent to her height and pursed his lips prepping for a kiss. Alex didn’t move.

As Chandler waited patiently for his kiss he grew concerned as it didn’t come and opened his eyes to find a deserted apartment. He followed the open doors to the other apartment where Monica was standing in the middle of the room commanding attention for the exchange of secret Santa gifts. Chandler spotted Alex standing by the kitchen sink and made his way over to her.

‘Don’t think I’ll forget about it you know,’ he said with a soft smile.

‘I don’t doubt that,’ she replied, ‘but I’m not missing out on presents to kiss the guy I lost foosball to.’

‘Well, I hope Santa delivers early so I can get my second gift of the night.’

‘We’ll see,’ she said. After that, she left Chandler’s side to go more into the group who were watching Monica intently just as she announced the arrival of Santa.

Joey dressed in full Santa regalia appeared from Rachel’s bedroom with a sack of gifts. The party burst into a frenzy as one by one people stood up to claim a gift. It was a take a gift and leave a gift situation and since he knew Joey hadn’t put anything in he hung back not wanting to cheat innocent partygoers out of a present. He ended up chatting to Ross about the gift he had tried to ensure went to Rachel in secret Santa. He was hoping he could woo her with an exquisite bracelet she had longed for on a shopping trip they had taken a few weeks ago. However, the gift had skipped past her and ended up in Phoebe's possession. He had asked Chandler for help on how to convince Phoebe to trade him so he could get it to Rachel himself.

In the kerfuffle, he lost sight of Alex and soon left Ross to his own devices. He looked all around Monica and Rachel’s apartment for her but found nothing. She wasn’t out in the hallway or in the living room of his apartment. He checked the bathroom and even his room but found her nowhere.

He was gutted. She had seemed to really connect with him and she had even offered to go to dinner with him if she won the bet. Why would she just walk out?

He was down for the rest of the party. He joined the gang for the duration and even helped Monica tidy up afterwards before stalking to his room with a heavy heart.

He woke the next day and made himself some breakfast in an attempt to soak up the booze. As he ate his french toast on his barker lounger his roommate's door opened and revealed a tired-looking Joey. He was in just his boxers and a T-shirt and he smiled at Chandler as he sat down next to him whilst simultaneously robbing a piece of french toast off of his plate.

‘French toast,’ Joey said with a mouth full of food, ‘this is your hangover food. How much did you drink last night?’

‘Not a lot. I spent most of the night playing foosball.’

‘Tell me again why you didn’t get roped into being Santa?’ Joey asked with a smile.

‘I don’t think sarcastic Santa is what Monica had in mind,’ Chandler replied, ‘though I had as much luck with the ladies as I would have if I were wearing a Santa suit.’

‘I don’t know it seemed to work for me,’ Joey said.

‘What?!’ Chandler asked flabbergasted.

‘Yeah, keep it down she’s still in my room,’ Joey said motioning to the door.

‘H-h-h-h-how? How?’

Joey shrugged. As Chandler revelled in the admission Joey’s door cracked open and a girl stepped out. Chandler looked at her. She was dressed in the top half of a Santa suit and her hair was full bedhead but there was no denying that it was Alex.

‘Hey,’ she said awkwardly looking between both boys.

‘Mornin,’ Joey said with a smile. Chandler didn’t say anything.

‘Can I use your bathroom?’ She said and Joey nodded and pointed in its direction and watched her as she scurried across the apartment and into the bathroom.

‘You slept with Alex?’ Chandler asked.

‘Yeah, why do you know her?’ Joey asked.

‘No,’ Chandler lied. Sadness filled his core as he watched Joey leap up from his chair and rob another piece of toast, ‘you might want to turn the tv up this might get loud.’

And with that, he disappeared into the bathroom leaving Chandler sitting by himself listening to giggles and moans coming from the bathroom.

He couldn’t keep a girl. Even around Santa.

Santa, you bitch

Didn't get a damn thing from my Christmas list

All I got was this broken heart and that's it

Santa, you bitch

Oh, there's only one thing that I truly wish

I wish my old girl would've never kissed Saint Nick

#my writing #chandler bing #chandler bing fic #friends fic #joey tribbiani #joey tribbiani fic #chandler bing x reader #santa stole my girlfriend

[another-rogue-trevelyan]

An Inquisition Bachelorette Party Because I’m Still Mad We Didn’t Get One in Trespasser So I Made it Myself

Cullen/Trevelyan

“Relax, Josie, everything is wonderful.”

The ladies of the Inquisition were gathered in an extravagant little venue in Val Royeaux. Josie had spared no expense, and Vivienne and Leliana had egged her on in her planning. They had been supplied the finest wine, delicious food, and all the tiny cakes Evelyn could ever wish for. A minstrel supplied entertainment, and the whole affair was altogether luxurious. Evelyn’s specific request for a private affair was the only reason this hadn’t developed into an Aunt Lucille scale party. Being spoiled by finery for an evening, however, she could allow. It was Orlais, after all.

“I’m glad you think so. It’s just such a rush! Are you sure want to marry so soon? It’s wonderful, but Cullen only just proposed two days ago. It’s one thing to put together a bachelorette party, but planning a wedding so quickly, in between planning for the Exalted Council, is just not much time. We could give you the greatest wedding Thedas has ever seen, with more preparation.”

“I’m sure. My life has been far too public for the last three years. It’s a welcome relief to have something for ourselves. Besides, all that really matters is that Cullen and I are getting married. I don’t need a fancy dress or venue, as long as I get to marry him.” When Evelyn glanced over, she saw Cassandra was smiling dreamily at her. “Val Royeaux is lovely, though. We thought we may as well do it while we’re here. We would have eloped yesterday had Josie not stopped us.”

“And rightly so, darling,” said Vivienne, refilling her wine. “You’re the Inquisitor, and a Trevelyan. If you insist on a small, private affair, the least we can do is find you a proper gown and some basic necessities.”

Evelyn knew that whatever Vivienne’s definition of ‘basic necessities’ was, that it was much more extravagant than hers. Evelyn had been ready to elope in her Inquisition uniform, before Josephine had put a stop to it. Though it was still only a few days to plan, Evelyn had to admit she was thankful. Every stolen minute of personal time in the last two years had been rushed. It was nice to plan something for herself, even if it was still only a few days.

“Thank you. All of you. It’s nice to have something for myself for once.”

“You deserve it!” Leliana assured. Though she was Divine now, she had managed to slip away to join them for an evening. Secretly, Evelyn knew she was pleased to be back in regular clothing.

“Here,” Leliana said mischeviously, handing her a colorful box, with a large bow on top. “I got you something.”

“Not shoes?” Evelyn inspected the box. It was much too flat to hold Leliana’s usual gift of choice.

“Not this time,” the Divine smirked.

Evelyn untied the bow and unwrapped the gift. When she removed the lid, she laughed gleefully.

“Leliana!”

“Just don’t tell anyone it’s from me. It’s hardly an appropriate gift for the Divine to give.”

“It’s hardly appropriate for anyone to give! Are you trying to kill our Commander?” Leliana giggled in response.

The box contained a set of white lace lingerie that was sure to be the end of Ser Cullen Rutherford. Leliana had even been so kind as to include the matching stockings. She held it up so the others could see, all laughing as Evelyn blushed. The Inquisitor was not one to get embarrassed so easily, the color rising in her cheeks more from the laughter and the wine than from the implication of the gift.

“I thought you could use it for your wedding night,” Leliana grinned.

“And now I’ve seen everything. Lingerie from the Divine to the Herald of Andraste. Absolute heresy!” Cassandra laughed. From her reading tastes, Evelyn suspected, this was likely tame for her.

“Well, if Ferelden doesn’t ruin us, this will,” Josephine jested, opening another bottle of wine. It seemed she had relaxed a bit.

“Better warn all the desks in Orlais. None of them are safe.”

“Sera!”

“Well it’s true, innit?”

“Have you been scandalizing desks, Evelyn?” Vivienne asked playfully.

“I have scandalized precisely one desk, and since it was in Skyhold I feel I was entitled to it.” The ladies howled with laughter. The alcohol had gotten to them, heightening the hilarity. “Oh shut it, as if you all have been chaste for the last three years.”

“No desks were harmed by me,” Sera said. “Well, not that way, anyway.”

“You’re all terrible.”

“It’s alright, Ev, you know we love you,” Leliana said, wrapping herself around Evelyn in a clumsy hug and planting a kiss on her cheek.

“More wine?” Josie asked.

“Please,” Evelyn answered.

***

Cullen heard her enter their temporary quarters in the early hours of the morning. He turned in the bed, observing his soon to be wife as she stumbled in the door. She tripped on her way to him, and giggled as she barely recovered her balance.

“I see you had fun.”

“You know, my fiancé will not like it when he finds you here,” she teased.

“Then you’d better not let him find me,” he chuckled.

Evelyn was thoroughly drunk, perhaps more so than he had ever seen her. Though he was sure she wouldn’t be in such a good mood in a few hours, he was glad she had been able to have fun for a night. The last three years had been constant work and responsibility, and she deserved a night of fun.

Then he noticed the blood.

He looked her over thoroughly, Evelyn making quite a few lewd jokes at him as he ran his hands over her, checking for wounds. It seemed she was unharmed.

“Love, where did all this blood come from?”

“Blood?” Evelyn looked at herself, confused. “Oh, it is blood. I thought it was jam. Sera threw cake at me. You know the little Orlesian cakes? With the icing. They make them look like flowers! How do you think they do that?”

“I don’t know how they do it. But what about the blood?”

“Oh that!” Evelyn laughed, crawling onto his lap until she straddled him. Cullen was both worried and amused by the situation.

“Well, we ran out of wine.”

“I can see that.”

“So we left to get more.”

“A most wise decision.”

“I know! But we found something else instead. I can’t remember what it was. I think Bull said he liked it, though, so we wanted to try it.”

“And then?”

“You’re handsome.” Evelyn ran her hand through his hair. Cullen took the offending hand and kissed it.

“What happened next, love?”

“We...Sera brought the cakes. And...shit. Wait, yeah! We got lost. Cassandra started dropping the cakes behind us. Said she was making a trail. I told her that was a bloody waste of cake. But then Sera started throwing it. She even hit Vivienne! Oh, she was so mad! So then we all started throwing cake at each other. And we kept running, but then we got more lost. Ended up in some weird alley. Then these men came up to us, and I told them they couldn’t have any cake. The big one said he could just lick it off us, since we were covered in it already.”

Cullen’s jaw clenched. If the bastards weren’t dead already, they would be tomorrow.

“So I told ‘em, I said ‘the only one licking cake off me is my fiancé!’ They didn’t like that. Well, my friends liked it, but these arseholes didn’t. So I told ‘em to shove off, and they really didn’t like that. Then they pulled knives on us. Guess they didn’t know who we were. I threw one of my daggers and killed one, and Vivienne started freezing shit. Leliana grabbed a bow off one of ‘em. I even saw Josie fight! She was good!”

Cullen sighed. Only Evelyn Trevelyan could throw a dagger, drunk off her ass, and hit her target. He was honestly impressed, but keeping down the rage that was consuming him took too much of his focus to address anything else.

“So anyway, we killed the bastards, but we were still lost, and one of the Jennys found us. Sent us back the right way. So we came back, and I came to see you!” Evelyn giggled again, poking him on the nose.

Cullen couldn’t help but smile. He was relieved to know that the women had successfully defended themselves, inebriated as they may be, and that the bastards had been slain. Now, he just had to figure out what to do with his very drunk fiancée.

“Come on, love. Let’s get you cleaned up.” He pulled out the basin in the room and set about heating water on the fire.

“Cullen?”

“Yes, love?”

“I can’t wait to be Lady Rutherford.”

Cullen froze for a moment, overjoyed. He took her in his arms and kissed her, hoping it could convey all he felt for her, before placing another, smaller kiss on her forehead.

“Me either.”

#cullenmance #cullen x inquisitor #cullen x trevelyan #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #cullen rutherford #dai #inquisitor #commander cullen #op #mini fic

[birdwonder]

I read the rules and I’m not sure if platonic counts as x reader but I’ll ask anyway! Is it possible to get A small fic (or scenario? I’m not sure of the difference) of the reader training with Joseph? A little ass kicking from the reader, a little ass kicking from Joseph. But both are just really good friends trying to help the other get even stronger. (Again if platonic isn’t alright, you can turn it into traditional x reader) thanks again!!

|| this is such a wholesome request and i was so happy to read it ! platonic and any other relationships are perfectly fine when it comes to requests so this is fine ! as much as i love this request, i don’t think i did it justice due to a huge lack of ideas of how to start or end it, so i’m sorry if it’s a little eh ! still, hope you enjoy. 

Joseph Joestar | Sparring

Control. Control your breathing and make sure it doesn’t falter out of rhythm. Keeping the same breathing pattern constantly was your sure victory to winning this training session, especially when Joseph Joestar was at a disadvantage with the training mask he wore.

The two of you were interlocked in an intense spar, one that was prompted by your friend and fellow hamon user, Joseph, who had come up to you not too long after lunch asking if you were willing to go against him in a one on one. Naturally, you had to say yes.

Though the time you both had known each other was not long, the two of you had easily and quickly grown to be thick as thieves.

 You had met when Joseph arrived on the island to learn the art of hamon, something you were already fairly well versed in since you had been Lisalisa’s understudy alongside Caeser for quite some time now.

The first day that you two had met, Joseph had tried to act suave and charming but you quickly shot him down by pointing out the godawful mask he was required to wear. You could only be thankful that you hadn’t needed to wear it during your first few months with your mentor. After that, Joseph assumed that he would have a similar relationship to you as he did with Caeser, constantly bickering, but after the three of you had made it out of the Hell Climb Pillar, he had learnt that even in the face of danger you could crack a few jokes and help your comrades no matter what.

Something that he thought was absolutely amazing.

From then on, you all were a trio that supported each other and helped each other grow, even if Joseph and Caesar argued more often than an old, married couple. Not that you’d make the mistake of saying that out loud again.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Using the foot that was further back, you pushed yourself away from your standing stance and rushed directly towards Joseph with one of your fists drawn back and ready to punch. You focused your hamon and allowed it to course through your arm to your knuckles. If you were right and lucky then a single hamon punch would be enough to knock the cocky Brit back a few steps, or at least stun him for a few seconds which in turn meant you could land even more attacks.

A loud cry came from you and Joseph only stood there, knees bent so that he was prepared to dodge, with a look in his eyes that heavily suggested there was a smirk hidden behind his mask.

You swung your fist at his chest, knowing that it’d be more effective, and you were almost certain you were going to land it until a larger, rougher hand gripped onto your wrist and spun your around.

“Ah, ah, ah!” Joseph tutted, shaking his head at your smaller figure despite the fact your back was turned to him. “That’s not going to work, now is it?” His taunt had a condescending and proud sound to it which made you roll your eyes before they widened with surprise when the sole of a shoe was pressed against your back and forced you to the ground.

You managed to avoid a smooshed or broken nose by moving your head to the side right before you made contact with the floor, Joseph’s laughter filling the air as he kept his foot firmly pressed on your spine. “How’s it feel to be kissing the ground, [F/N]? Bet it isn’t as good as the sweet taste of victory!”

When you looked out the corner of your eye, you could faintly see Joseph standing with his hands loosely on his hips as a display of confidence. Even if you were to be as well built as him, there was no way of being able to escape the pressure exerting on you, meaning if you didn’t get up soon you would lose far too easily and quickly for your liking.

That was it. It was time to use your secret technique, one that only Caesar had the misfortune of seeing which lead to an instant loss for him. Since then, he made sure to never look you in the eyes again during a fight.

“Ooowww,” you whined, scrunching your brows together as you clawed a little at the ground. It took a lot of might but you managed to get a single tear to roll from your eye, something that caught Joseph’s attention quick and threw him into a state of panic. Whimpering, you hiccuped a little as you just managed to glance up at the man with puppy-like eyes and a quivering lip, “I thought we were friends, Jojo...” Your sorry complaintsand broken trust seemed to have really tugged his heart strings as his egotistical aura subsided and he seemed sincerely concerned.

“H—Hey ! You’re not actually crying, are you? Was I too rough?” With a frantic look in his eyes, he stepped away from you, releasing the pressure that had once stuck you down. The brown haired male bent down beside you, holding out a hand for you to accept. “I didn’t think it would be that bad, I mean I’ve seen you handle a lot wor—.”

An emasculating yelp suddenly piped up from Joseph as the hand he had graciously lent was quickly grabbed and yanked, sending him down tumbling towards you. As you were no longer laying on your front side and instead sitting on the ground, you used this to your advantage by mimicking his previous move and placing your foot on his chest. The combination of your pull and push on Joseph directed him to fall towards you and then to the side last second, rendering him on his back next to you.

Without a moment’s hesitation, you shuffled to sit on his stomach, grinning down at him with competitive friendliness in your eyes. “Gotcha! I knew you’d fall for that Jojo, I know you’re a secret softie under all that muscle.” You bragged, winking cheekily at the man beneath you. “If you really want to do better in fights, you should know your enemy, and think about every possible outcome that comes from your actions.” 

Joseph only raised a brow at your words. He did appreciate your criticism, truly, and knew it was vital for his improvement as much as he wanted to believe he was perfect already, however he already knew what you said. In fact, he knew what you were going to do before you even did it.

 Your continuation of boasts was short lived as in a blink of an eye, you too were knocked onto your back when a sharp burst of hamon hit your side, sending you a metre away from the one you once sat upon.

You winced slightly at the impact that had a web of pain spread through you, hissing at the feeling when a looming shadow caught your attention. “Oh don’t look at me like that.”

A small snort came from Joseph. “How do you know how I’m looking at you when you can’t even see most of my face?”

Standing up was a little difficult and you could tell there was no second chance of getting a helping hand.“You just radiate stupid and cocky. It’s pretty obvious.”

“As obvious as I won this one?” The triumphal tone was definitely worthy of a hamon punch, yet you digressed. For now.

“Maybe, but not as obvious as that stupid mask,” you bantered, knowing that he hated having to wear it, especially when neither you nor Caesar had to. When you saw his furrowed eyebrows you laughed. “Oops, too far?~”

He lightly punched your shoulder to stop your teasing, the hit far more playful than the last few attacks you both had been attempting, and you laughed once more, wrapping an arm around the other’s shoulders which he reacted to by doing the same. Joseph came to Lisalisa’s island to find his full potential and his main objective was still to defeat the pillar men and still, his greatest discovery has to arguably be meeting you.

Proving your strength during your fights rested Joseph’s heart. He knew that you were strong enough to look out for yourself and that losing you would be harder than gaining you as a friend.

“Well, I think we should call it quits for now! I mean, your poor backside has been through enough ass kicking, and you just fell on it too.” Joseph joked as he began to head towards a window, with you in tote. Glancing at the high, blazing, Italian sun, the two of you said nothing until you looked over at his face. Seeing him be silent and deep in thought was madly unnerving alongside interesting to see. Who knew such a boisterous man could actually be quiet?

“Something on your mind, Jojo?”

“Hm...? No, just appreciating some things” He quickly answered, like he was trying to avoid explaining himself. You didn’t question it as right after, in the span of a second, the mood had quickly changed once more to a light hearted one. “Say, I know we just ate and all... But I saw Suzi Q put some nice looking desserts away earlier and seeing as the loser should usually owes the winner something~”

You scoffed, shaking your head. It was clear what he wanted, and frankly after your spar, you also wanted something sweet. Hell, after this whole week you deserved it. “I’ll see what I can do. Let’s go see if they’re still there, knuckle head.”

“Huh- Who you calling ‘knuckle head’?!”

Even with all your jests and jabs, the two of you were close friends until the end and no matter what horrors would come up in the future when it came to the pillar men, you knew you’d use the last of your power to look out for Joseph.

#jjba x reader #jjba #joseph joestar #joseph joestar x reader #caesar zeppeli #lisalisa #platonic #foreshadowing/reference in the last line? mayhaps.

[softly-savage-mint-yoongi]

Pairing: Namjoon x reader

Rating: e x t r a fluffy goodness and super s o f t smut Word Count: 4,565 Summary: You and your boyfriend go out for a hike but end it giggling and sopping wet from rain. It’s refreshing and you’re suddenly overwhelmed by your happiness and love for him. Warnings: Hi this is super soft and I just wanted you all to drown in soft Joon feelings with me. Our great leader needs more love and appreciation. <3 (uwu)

“Shhh...” you shush Namjoon before he can potentially scare away the visitor. Your tongue sticking out and your eyes narrowing as you position your phone to capture the best possible image of the pretty Warbling sitting on top of Namjoon’s faded baseball cap.

Your boyfriend grimaces at you, until his face melts into a dimpled grin and he hisses a laugh, dipping his head to cover his mouth with his hand. The Warbling flies away when he moves, but you think you got a decent picture.

You sigh as you critique your own work, “Can’t just sit still, huh?” you playfully swat at the bill of his cap.

“I’m sorry,” he guffaws, “You’re just too cute when you focus. Like this.” the man justifies just before mimicking your earlier expression with squinted eyes and his tongue sticking out.

You square up to him puckishly with everything you have but it is a poor excuse for intimidation when your chin tilted up only reaches the hollowed pit between his clavicle.

He barks a laugh at your failed (and super cute) attempt at intimidating him. Instead, he pecks your lips quickly and takes your hand again. He drags you along for a moment before you match his leisurely pace along the dirt path.

After spending the morning finishing the house chores, you both had enough of staying inside while it was perfectly beautiful late Spring day outside. By the mid afternoon, Namjoon was nearly clawing at the door and begging to go for a long walk in the woods.

You couldn’t help but give in, and you’re happy you did. It was a rare chance he got a day off from being an Idol and didn’t spend it working on his latest and greatest. He was home.

Namjoon began humming contentedly as he navigated through the trees, his thumb absentmindedly caressing the back of your hand, and you found yourself smiling. You were so happy to be with him always, but it felt especially like home when you were not at an award show or a concert.

Lost in your thoughts you couldn’t help but take him in and feel a swell of love pang through your chest. While he guided you along the path, you enjoyed thinking about him. The way the sun caught his eyes or his skin, the way the whistle hanging around his neck thumped against his chest with every step; calm like a steady heartbeat. The way he smiled so brightly that it brought out his dimples and made his eyes squeeze shut. The relaxed, deep tenor of his voice as he hummed along slightly out of pitch.

All of the tiny details about him that made you feel right at home and so very in love with him. Namjoon glanced at you and suddenly hissed a laugh, “Are you thinking about me?”

You blinked, snapping from your thoughts to lock eyes with him slowly. You smiled at him in response as if he had caught you.

“How did you know?”

His returning grin made your heart squeeze tight between your ribs, “Most people are usually looking at the thing they’re thinking about.”

His answer is so him and it doesn’t surprise you. The things you feel for him are relentless today in their onslaught of your heart. It is nearly overwhelming in the best way.

Just as he turns back to continue across the path, his eyes catch your intertwined hands. His brow furrows and his head snaps to the canopy where you watch his calm happiness fade into a frown.

“It’s starting to rain.” he says solemnly, quickly changing direction.

You laugh gently and lean over to kiss the corner of his mouth just to get him to stop frowning.

“It’s okay, we’ve hiked pretty far.”

Namjoon automatically scrunches one side of his lips in a half smile. He huffs, “I know. I just didn’t want this to end.” he whispers.

His chocolate eyes watch as you give him an understanding smile and squeeze his hand. Just one more thing you love about him. You feel the same way, wanting to live in the moment of just the two of you and one of your favorite things to do. Away from the city. Away from the busy schedules and the fancy suits and being an Idol.

As you begin your descent back off the mountain, the rain threatens to come down harder. Namjoon works faster to guide you both safely back down and out of the woods.

You laugh out loud, grinning widely.

“What?” he says, smiling back at you before glancing back down at the ground. His boots are scuffed and have dried mud on them from the last hike you took.

“Oh, nothing.” you say knowingly as if there’s some joke you don’t want to let him in on.

Namjoon stops in his tracks and pulls your linked hands up above his head so you have no choice but to come crashing against his chest, still smiling like a buffoon.

He is quick to circle your waist and anchor you to him with the other arm, “No. What’s so funny? I’ll make us both stand out here and get soaked if you don’t tell me.”

His tone is playful and he can’t help the mischievous smile that graces his lips as he looks at your face and resists the urge to kiss you.

“I’m just shocked that you don’t trip or get hurt out here considering how clumsy you normally are.” you jest.

There’s no malice in your fake mocking, and Namjoon knows it. You’re both too relaxed around one another and it is easy to play one moment or to have a deep and meaningful conversation the next.

Your lover feigns a bruised ego, “Hey!” he says, scrunching his face into a pout because he knows you’ll try to kiss the expression away.

Just as expected, you purse your lips and make an attempt. He uses his height to his advantage, tilting his chin up and away from you.

Without any further warning, your luck begins to run dry when the small bit of rain turns from being a few drops that dry before the next falls. Before, you could make out the sound of each drop hitting the leaves as they fell, but now there’s a gentle pounding sound on the leafy canopy being quite drenched.

It’s not long before you’re both redoubling your efforts to get back down the hill and home. Namjoon is far more equipped to deal with rain than you are with his favorite jacket and baseball cap. You’re unfortunately only in a faded old beloved tee of his and nothing on your head to keep the rain out of your eyes.

A sound somewhere between a giggle and a screech falls from your lips as the first dredges of rain touch your face. Namjoon still has your hand as you’re both nearly running, bounding down the dirt path and hopping over the downed tree near the base of the hill.

There is only the sound of your boots thudding hard against the ground, the rain, and your combined peels of laughter. As soon as you both clear the treeline Namjoon shucks his jacket and tosses it to you.

You don’t bother with putting it on and opt for holding it above your head as you both take off at full speed toward the house across the flat grassy terrain.

With the jacket shielding your eyes from getting rain in them, you peek at your boyfriend. The wetness has soaked through the fabric of his cap and his hair is getting wet as well as his body. The white tee he was wearing is useless to him now and you both know it.

You’re laughing again at how ridiculous you must look but it feels good. You wouldn’t have it any other way. Namjoon’s smile never wavers as the pair of you take deeper pulls of air into your lungs.

As if to mock the situation, just as the house comes into view fifty yards away, the rain grows unforgiving and each drop grows considerably fatter and faster.

You shriek as your hand digs into your pocket for the keys, your body thudding into the back door with the momentum. Flattening yourself against it as much as possible, you give yourself enough room to fiddle with the lock just as Namjoon crowds against your back to protect you from the rain.

His large hand rests on the door above your head and the sound of your mingled ragged breaths is louder than the rain beating against you in the small space.

When you’re finally inside all you can do is stand there looking at each other and dripping onto the hardwood with easy smiles and bright eyes. Despite the weather, the late afternoon sun is still brilliant and shining through the house. It casts everything, including Namjoon, in a golden glow.

Your breath sticks in your throat when you notice how radiant he is, sopping wet and standing in your living room looking back at you with so much pure fondness in his eyes, totally unbothered by the rain.

It doesn’t take more than one beat of your heart before you smile up at him and your hands lift of their own accord to his face. He is silent while he stares at yours in return.

The color of your nail polish is a sharp contrast against his skin and you find yourself watching your thumb as it brushes across his cheek at first, then down to run slowly from one corner of his plush bottom lip to the other.

Namjoon’s eyes get darker as he watches you but you’re not watching him, too caught up in your infatuation with him. There’s an overwhelming desire to kiss him and you look up at him once to check. The look on his face tells you he can feel how charged the air is, too.

You stand on your tiptoes and let your body fall gently into his as you pull his face to meet you in the middle. There’s no rush to it, only love so staggering it almost brings tears to your eyes just to feel the way his hands softly grip your hips to keep you steady.

It feels like minutes have passed since you kissed him. Like your tongues were long lost lovers dancing languidly, only separating briefly for you to help him slowly peel his translucent, soaked shirt from his frame. It falls to the floor with a wet slap. The whistle hits the floor with a plastic pop that neither of you can be bothered to hear over the rain.

Namjoon takes one deep breath and gently lifts you, his warm hands strong and sure as he grips you under your thighs. They automatically wrap around his hips as you pull yourself closer to him, melding your mouths together again.

He presses you gently into the wall just so he doesn’t have to put you down to toe off his boots, ever thankful that he doesn’t lace them up all the way. An attempt to untie yours behind his back is made while you pepper chaste kisses repeatedly to his chest, his neck, his shoulders.

His frustrated grunt makes you giggle as you reluctantly slide from the wall and his hips to take your shoes off. While you’re there you take the moment to remove your socks before crawling back into his embrace. The walk to the bedroom is dizzying with his kisses. The way he moves his tongue against yours is too mesmerizing and you almost forget how to put one foot in front of the other.

He devours your mouth like lava, flames licking inside intense enough to start a wildfire while he pulls his old shirt from your torso. A sigh leave him at the first touches of his palms against your rain slicked waist.

It doesn’t take you long to bring your deft fingers to the button of his jeans, pushing them down his hips along with his boxers so his clothes don’t soak the bedding. Namjoon tries to wiggle his hips as best he can to aide you while he does much of the same in turn, one hand working the clasp of your bra while the other undoes the button of your jeans.

Once the danger of getting the bed wet has passed, you slow down again, taking every chance to show him how much you love him. He watches and gently sweeps your hair to the side, his palm resting against the back of your neck as you plant warm, open-mouthed kisses down the expanse of his sternum.

A hiss escapes him and those sinful lips drop open when you playfully pass your tongue over one of his nipples. You can feel how much he actually likes it, twitching to attention against your hip when you do it again.

You lightly push your boyfriend, encouraging him to sit on the edge of the bed as you descend further down his body with your mouth. Your fingers smooth over his thighs and you take your time kissing every inch of both on your way to where he wants you most.

“You don’t have to.” he says quietly, watching you with his head tilted to one side, one hand absently rubbing your shoulder.

“I know. I want to.” You respond just as quietly. Rearing up on your knees between his legs, you kiss him. You can feel him twitch again against your stomach.

Between kisses you tell him, “I want to show you how much I love and appreciate you.”

Your hands are still rubbing his thighs, circling in soothing motions.

“I don’t want to rush. I want us both to enjoy every second of this. For once we have all the time in the world.” It is whispered against his mouth and he sighs happily.

“You deserve all of the stars in the sky, and I want to give them to you.” you murmur in his ear just as you wrap your hand around him firmly.

Namjoon doesn’t flinch when you touch him, only moans softly and lets his head roll back, eyes closed. Your pace is slow at first, until you shift back on your heels again and deliberately let your mouth welcome him.

A strangled moan works its way from deep in his chest. His head comes forward again, his eyes absolutely burning. The look he is giving you sends heat straight to your core and you are too weak to fight the ache.

His hand cups your jaw as he watches you pleasure him, “You’re amazing, babygirl.”

The praise combined with the visual of him sends a wave of arousal spiking through you once more, and you have to fight the urge to climb on his lap.

He looks absolutely breathtaking sitting there on the edge of your shared bed. The sun is beginning to set and the intense orange sets his already bronze skin aflame, chocolate eyes on fire and a few stray drops of rain catching the rays as they roll off the ends of his honeyed hair and drip onto his shoulders.

Namjoon has always been maddeningly attractive to you, but it is these small moments and his behavior that make him shine brilliantly to you. Make you absolutely overwhelmed and unable to stay afloat in the vast ocean of love you feel for him.

A single tear drops from the corner of your eye and Namjoon is instantly pulling your face away from between his legs, thumbs swiping your cheeks and brow furrowed while he catches his breath.

“Did I hurt you?” he rasps, voice stolen from his chest while you indulged in him.

You can’t help but look away, embarrassed. “No, you didn’t.” you answer, smiling sheepishly.

He appears confused as he pulls you onto the bed beside him, but he remains silent, waiting  for an explanation.

“It’s nothing.”

“No, tell me.” he asks, holding your hands against his chest. He is staring straight at you, his arousal momentarily forgotten over his worry for you.

It only makes a few more tears spring from your eyes as you actually laugh, leaving him entirely baffled and a little alarmed. You’ve never cried during sex, not even the first time you did it with him, or the time after that bad fight when you ended up fucking out of jealousy and possession.

“I just love you a lot, okay?” you declare through your tears, deciding you don’t want him to see you cry so you wrap your arms around his shoulders and hold him tight.

You feel more than hear Namjoon’s gentle laugh as it shakes his frame slightly. Then he is wrapping his strong arms around you in return, one palm petting over the back of your head over and over.

The rapper rolls you over so you’re beneath him, caged in the safety between the bed and his body. When your eyes meet his you can tell he is looking at you the same way you look at him, and he is elated. Nothing could bother either of you in this moment.

He takes one of your hands and kisses it, places it against his chest while he lowers his head to your face and kisses the apples of your cheeks, your nose, your lips, your chin, until he is working his way down your neck.

“I love you a lot, too.” he whispers into your skin just as his plush lips surround your breast. You arch into him, your hand climbing up the back of his neck to tangle in the hair at his nape.

He stays like that for a moment before he lifts his gaze and his eyes are dark with desire. His hand skims its way down your ribs, over your hip and down to your knee before he is pulling it to bend.

Skilled fingers tease their way down the back of your thigh to squeeze at the ample flesh of your rear. Namjoon twitches against your leg and a low groan floats from his throat when he slides a finger between your folds and feels how much you need him.

A moan catches in your own throat as he eases one into you. Your vision blurs with pleasure and you feel like you’ve been high on him for so long you know it won’t take long to reach a fever pitch.

You don’t want it to be over so quickly. You want to have him before your pleasure gets the better of you, so you push at his chest.

You’ve never had a problem being honest or straightforward and asking Namjoon for the things you wanted, and this time was no different. “I want to ride you.” you confess.

He admires your boldness, stifling a small laugh at how flustered one simple sentence can make him. There was nothing in the world anyone could say to him in this moment that would wipe that dimpled grin off his face.

“Then come here.” he replies softly, pulling you out from under him and moving to make himself comfortable against the headboard.

A breeze rolls through the open windows and it makes you shudder without his warmth surrounding you. There’s nothing quick about the way you crawl up the bed and straddle his hips. You don’t settle on his lap right away, admiring him and the intimacy.

The way he looks up at you warms you through and you slowly allow yourself to sit down. A hiss of pleasure immediately slips through Namjoon’s teeth as you slide back and forth along him where he lays.

“Don’t tease me. Not today.” he grits out, breath refusing to leave his lungs. His fingertips are pressing into your hips, contradicting his words as he holds you down and rocks you back and forth across his lap. His eyes won’t leave the sight between your legs.

You giggle, and when he tears his eyes away to look at your face he shakes his head, “Aish, I want you. You’re maddening.”

With one last swivel of your hips, you sit up and kiss him. As your tongues devour each other, you reach down to hold him steady. You can feel him pause as he waits for the feeling of your heat encompassing him.

His eyes are closed and his kisses cease momentarily until he feels you sink down on him slowly and a moan like liquid sin is pulled from his mouth.

A soft cry drops from your own lips as you begin to rock against him. Repositioning, Namjoon slides a bit further down the mattress as he cups your rear in his large hands, biceps flexing to assist you in lifting off of him at a snail’s pace before lowering yourself back down all at once.

You both moan at that, and do it again while your lover watches himself disappear within you. “Fuck.” he breathes out, his eyebrows scrunching together in concentration.

You continue like that for a few minutes, focusing on the sounds of bliss leaving your lips. Namjoon plays with your breasts and you shower him with kisses and praise. Both of you enjoy dirty talk but today it seems like none of that matters. You’re just enjoying the feeling of each other.

It doesn’t take long thereafter for Namjoon to begin his descent to impatience. He can’t help it, you feel too good, but you do your best to stop him with the strength of your thighs.

“No, please keep it slow.” you beg, pushing your breasts against his chest. “I want to feel you.”

The Idol smiles at that, moving a stray hair behind your ear and kissing you deeply. His arms circle your middle and he holds you to him tightly, keeping the pace as promised, but his thrusts get deeper and harder with the new angle. The sound of his hips slapping into you makes you blush and you cry out, right into his ear with the force of it.

A groan not unlike a growl spills from Namjoon as he concentrates on your cries and whimpers as he fucks into you slow and hard. You’re giving it your all to keep up with his rhythm but it feels too good and all you can manage is to lay against him and enjoy the ride.

“That’s it babygirl.” he coos in your ear, “Fuck, I can feel how close you are.”

His words only serve to fuel the fire in your belly more, coiling tighter. Euphoria is quickly approaching and you have the sudden urge to sit up and see his face. All of your senses are immediately crystal clear. You’re aware of the heat of his skin against yours, the sound of the heavy rain, the smell of it mixed with sex, the bead of sweat rolling down Namjoon’s neck. The feel of him inside of you.

Just as you’re about to tip over the precipice of pleasure your clarity dulls until it’s nothing but fuzziness and the feel of Namjoon satisfying you so completely that you want to scream. You feel how much he fills you with love and completes you so perfectly that another tear forces itself from your eye.

This time, Namjoon gives you a radiant smile and doesn’t worry when he seems it slipping down your cheek. He flicks it away with the pad of his thumb, his mouth dropping back open to moan loudly as your orgasm crashes down around you. You fall forward into his chest with cries of pleasure and his hips stutter.

Most days he wants nothing more than to relentlessly force his cock into your heat and come, but today is different. He savors the feel of you around him, focusing on your love for him and the intimacy he feels with you. He tries to draw out his release, fighting the way your body is squeezing around him.

Even when he slows more to draw it out, Namjoon can’t fight his impending release. He can feel it like a storm rolling in off the coast. You’re still spent, lying against him and panting, while his breath heaves from his chest.

You would never think that whispering something innocent in your boyfriends ear would give him the best orgasm of his life, and yet, when you tell him, “You make me so happy.” he surrenders the breath he had been holding and moans.

His release takes over him quickly like a tidal wave. His back hits the bed and he digs his heels in. His fingertips will probably leave bruises with how hard he is holding your hips down against his own as he grinds his pelvis into you. You watch with pure joy as his neck flexes and his jaw tightens. He is breathless and beautiful and you are so very in love with him.

When it’s over there’s a content, fucked out smile on his lips. A fine sheen of sweat covers you both and that bright setting sun is still casting a lustrous glow over the room.

You roll off of Namjoon’s lap and lay beside him, tracing patterns on his chest and enjoying the quiet. It’s still raining, although it has tapered off into a gentle din.

He rotates onto his side to face you and pulls you into him with a happy sigh. “Today was perfect.” he confesses to you.

A quiet laugh escapes you, “Even getting rained on?”

An enthusiastic nod answers, “It was refreshing, I think.”

If you had to think about the events of the last few hours you would have to agree with him. It was certainly not at the top of your list of fun outdoor activities, but it was exciting nonetheless. It also struck you as something so very Namjoon that had you not just had your fill of him, you would be overwhelmed with adoration for him all over again.

“Are you thinking about me again?”

He grins at you while he watches you in deep thought.

“Always.”

“And? Is whatever you’re thinking about me going to make you cry again?”

You playfully smack him in the ribs, “I’m not Jiminie you know. I’m not going to cry every time you say I’m crying.”

Namjoon coos at you, “Then why are there tears in your eyes.”

You blink and sure enough a drop of salty liquid falls to the sheets.

“Shut up!” you swat at him.

“You’re so cute. I love you.”

You roll over to face away from him, but the rapper is too quick and pulls your back flush against his chest. He hums, content as he snuggles his face into the crook of your neck.

After a few minutes of silence when you think Namjoon has drifted off to sleep, he pipes up.

“Hey baby?”

“Yeah?” you reply, tracing patterns on the back of his hands where they’re wrapped around your stomach.

“Thank you.”

You’re happy but confused, “You're welcome, but for what?”

You can feel his lips kissing the back of your neck, “Appreciating me.”

Your heart pangs happily in your chest as you roll over and burrow yourself into his frame.

He just barely hears you whispering ‘always’ against his chest before you plant a loving kiss over his heart.

#bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #kpop fanfiction #bts smut #bts fluff #bts x reader #namjoon x reader #rm x reader #namjoon x female reader #bts x you #namjoon x you #rm x you #bts writing #bts angst #smut #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #knj #writing #kim namjoon for president #is it obvious i love him? #i just want him to feel appreciated #please give this fic love #bts one shots

[aelinbitch-archive]

i would be so powerful if i hadn’t imprinted on aelin like a baby duckling at age 12 :/

#greatest hits: joking and jesting.

[aintgonnaleaveyoumikey]

Pairings: Trikey Rating: M Summary: They fell into a pattern, an infinite loop. To break it, Michael has to stay or Trevor has to let him go. Post main story pining and a suggestion for why Trev is so bitchy when he’s found throwing grenades in his driveway. [AO3]

.*Breaking Chains*.

Trevor pulled the pin and for a brief moment, it was like holding sundown in the palm of his hand: fleeting. And then he let it go.

The subsequent bang brought with it a flash of gold, a rumbling in his eardrums and bones...and the routine appearance of a black sedan pulling up garage-side in the dusty street. He watched it come to a stop—watched while the scent of cash blew into a slum and a lamb fell into a shark tank.

He wasn’t sure which he’d rather be.

Fuck.

There wasn’t enough liquor in the entire world now, not that there ever had been or would be when it came to Michael fucking Townley. It was the same feeling, whether he wore the clothes of a lover or a traitor, whether he had the swagger of youth in his step or a decade of mistakes written between the wrinkles now creasing his features. Mikey: always two steps out of reach with meaningless promises, a mirage of water in a parched wasteland of loneliness.

And yet, there he was. Again. And again and again and again and...

Despite the futility of it all, cracked lips met the whiskey bottle while Trevor’s eyes rolled back with his head. Bottoms up, he drank deep to will away the ghost now leisurely approaching, as if another unannounced visit to Sandy Shores was no more than a Sunday stroll around the block.

“T. Hey.”

His lashes parted again to a pair of black birds soaring over the colors of dusk and without facing the apparition, Trevor blindly set the whiskey down behind him. “I’d get out of the way if I were you.” He pulled another pin free and breathed a singsong, “Thank fuck I’m not you, though.”

Toss. Bang. Gold. Rumble.

Sundown after sundown.

“Guess this is what fun in the desert looks like. Heh, wish I’d known about it when we were playing house here.” It was a joke, both the sarcastic-laden suggestion and how it could still pierce Trevor’s heart despite knowing its jest.

“Mmhm, yep.” Still refusing to offer even the hint of a glance over his shoulder, he reached back for the booze. “Your life in Plastic Town isn’t playing house though, right? Sugar Tits, how do you live in such denial?”

With the kick of a polished shoe to the driveway, Michael squinted and sucked his teeth. His shoulders were loose, hands stuffed in his trouser pockets and he jingled his keys before giving off an airy sigh. “Some things never change, huh...”

The laugh that erupted from the depths of Trevor’s throat went short-lived and preceded another swig of liquor stinging its way down. “Now if those ain’t the truest words ever spoken.” At last, he turned and thrust the bottle toward his visitor. “You’ll always be an entitled prick, for instance.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake, T, can we just—”

“Disappearing for ten years and then just showing up whenever it suits the frequent swingin’ of your moods. Must be nice, Mikey.”

“Look, man.” Shrugging, Michael pulled his hands free and slid the tinted shades from the bridge of his nose. They folded with a pointed snap. “If you wanna keep throwing grenades and pissing off your neighbors, that’s fine by me. I can go get lost for another ten if it’s what you want.”

Ouch.

Trevor peered at Michael for long enough to err on awkward silence, before his arm finally fell with the whiskey sloshing as consequence. “You are an asshole.” He relented, however, the anger that shaded his tone dissipating in the bat of an eyelash. “So what favor do you need from ol’ T this time, mm?”

Michael’s brow twitched but he wasn’t quick enough to inquire.

“What? What else would bring you to my ever humble abode again, if not to inconvenience me in some beyond annoying way?” Trevor’s fingertips caressed over grooves and smooth edges, turning the next grenade around in his hand. If his dear compadre over there wanted to do this ridiculous dance every week, they’d dance. Every week. Until it got boring, of course.

Would it ever get boring, though? The name inked on Trevor’s bicep suggested he already knew the answer, but his imagination could deflect and chase a proverbial butterfly all it liked.

“Nah, it’s not...it’s not like that, T. Come on. I was in the neighborhood and felt like dropping in.”

“In the neighborhood.”

Rocking to and fro on his soles, Michael remained aloof and let his gaze wander. “So, uh, drinkin' with me is an inconvenience?”

Trevor scoffed and cocked his head. “When you speak in bullshit innuendos, yeah, a bit.” The final pin hit the ground with a soft clang and the shell went rolling toward the street. Boom. “Buuuut I never did like doing shit the easy way, so let’s get a move on, porkchop.” He approached with a slap to Michael’s arm, his fingertips pressing inward then and trailing down to the small of his back. “Let’s get a drink.” The words spilled from Trevor’s lips in a dangerous half purr. “Make up for a whole seven days of lost time.”

Michael’s face turned in slow motion until the tips of their noses nearly touched, his eyes half-lidded and the curl of his dark lashes prominent. He spoke just as softly then, a whisper riding out on his breath over the scent of mint and cigarettes. “Whatever it takes, Trevor.”

And that was that.

The pair approached the trailer door without so much an acknowledgement of Ron sitting on the porch, tinkering with some dilapidated tinfoil hat device as per usual. He’d have enough sense to leave soon anyway. ...Maybe. Then again, maybe not. Whatever the case, Trevor had one fuck to give at present and if Ron wanted to linger about while the whole universe rattled and his voice sang to the gods, so be it.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

His gaze met Michael’s while Phil Collins’ “I Don’t Care Anymore” played on the kitchen radio.

...Nor would it apparently be the last.

~

“I love my life,” declared a vapid voice, while cigarette smoke drifted in lazy tendrils through a conspicuous melancholy looming over the bed.

Outside, the sun had long relinquished its reign to a sea of diamonds, the moon a giant glowing pearl cradled in the lap of glittering celestial fabric. It was strange to think that Sandy Shores and Los Santos existed under this same sky, and even stranger that for ten years, Trevor and Michael had too—as separate and distinct as their places of residence. It was strange that neither yet moved now to trade the view of a rusty metal ceiling for the stars outside, strange that each found some vestige of comfort lying beside the other in less than favorable conditions.

Such was life, though: the very one Michael spoke of.

“I love it,” he repeated in a whisper, his eyes unblinking for too long.

Though an empty can was present on the nightstand next to him, Trevor flicked accumulated ash over the side of the bed. His right arm was raised and resting against a wafer-thin pillow, the crook supporting his head. The cigarette met his lips and he drew on it once more, while music no one was listening to continued wafting from the opposite end of the space; it was just Pat Benatar, anyway...

Only when the glowing orange line threatened to burn into the filter was when he put the smoke out, stretched, and finally turned his face. “So. What’s next, cowboy? Mm?”

Michael kept his attention trained on the ceiling, several moments of mock consideration passing before he answered, “The Yellow Jack?”

“...The Yellow Jack,” Trevor repeated in disdain.

Squinting, Michael licked his lips. “All right. The bar next door.”

When that suggestion was met with a huff out the nostrils, he sat up in annoyance. “The meth lab then. A fucking...road trip to the mountains, tennis at the god damn beach. Let’s steal a fucking plane and fly it until it burns up in the fucking atmosphere, I don’t know, T. What the fuck do you want me to say?”

“It’s the same shit every week, Mikey. Think about that.” Trevor pushed himself to stand at the bedside, and bare-ass naked, peered down at his companion humorously opting to remain covered by a thin sheet. “You’re not stupid. You just love denial.” From there, he itched at his groin and strutted to the bathroom for a piss while calling out, “Always have, always will.”

“Fucking whatever, man.”

It wasn’t long before Trevor reappeared in the doorway. “So, the Yellow Jack. And after that, the lab, the mountains, the beach. Then we fly into the sun. And then?”

“And then what?”

“How long would you say is too long, Michael? To wait for someone.” Trevor wandered to the closet and swatted at a pair of moths. “Ten years?”

Silence.

“Or is it twenty?”

Silence.

“Mm, I see.” He slid into the greatest treasure ever found at Binco—his prized pink leopard print briefs—and continued dressing. “Looks like the Yellow Jack Inn it is, porkchop.”

“Trevor.”

“Hurry the fuck up or you’ll be walking. I’m ready to stomp out some redneck ass, relieve myself of some fucking pent up aggression.”

The front door swung open and closed, Trevor’s voice muffled and permeating from the porch.

“Ronald, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Everything, Trevor!”

“It’s one week,” Michael answered at last, to no one. “One week is a long fucking time.”

He dragged out the process of cleaning himself up and donning his clothes, simultaneously hoping and dreading that he’d taken too long. To no surprise, though, Trevor still sat waiting in the truck when he finally made it outside.

~

Climbing to the roof of an abandoned motel while intoxicated was both a stupid idea and cheap thrill. Driving hours to the desert to run from a reality he’d given everything up for was a fitting parallel, so naturally, Michael went along with it.

He stood at Trevor’s side under a million stars and stared into infinity itself.

“I want to love my life, T.”

“Yeah.”

“So I should stop. Man, I gotta stop, it’s...”

“Yeah.”

“And we should probably...”

“For sure, Michael.”

They were quiet for a long while in a universe only big enough for two, each wondering in a drunken haze if the other knew what the hell he was even talking about. And then they questioned if they even knew, themselves.

At some point, their pinkies entwined first to test the waters, and the other fingers followed, threading together tighter and tighter yet. Was this holding with possession before letting go forever, or the intention of never letting go at all? The answer remained irritatingly elusive.

In any case, when the first rays of sunlight embraced the horizon once more, Michael’s eyes opened to find himself back in a bed which both did and didn’t belong to him. He elongated himself in a stretch, pointed his toes downward, and then looked to Trevor—watched while he took steady breaths in his sleep, focused on his barely parted mouth, and felt the magnetism drawing him in.

He used to feel this pull on his heart, twenty years ago.

Michael leaned over slowly. Their noses touched, the space separating his lips from Trevor’s closed to mere millimeters and just before it became none, a familiar ghost posed a familiar inquiry.

What’s next, cowboy?

He stopped short of consummating the kiss.

Get a drink. The Yellow Jack. The bar next door... Michael’s gaze drifted to the side. Actually feel alive for a few hours and then return to the life he should love, must love—the life he gave up everything, gave up Trevor for.

...How long was too long to wait for someone?

And how long was too long to burn in the inferno of a self-made purgatory?

He withdrew; got up, got dressed, walked by Ron passed out on the porch couch with a beer in hand, and slid into the car. It was only 6AM and the heat was already suffocating, but that wasn’t a new feeling for Michael. He turned up the AC, pulled onto the dirt road, and drove.

It wasn’t until he reached the entrance ramp of the highway when he noticed how silent the world was outside of his mind, so he reached for the radio just in time to once again hear Phil Collins singing about how he didn’t care anymore. Must be nice.

~

He was becoming a true creature of habit. That was what Michael decided when he found himself strolling up a dusk-colored desert driveway exactly seven days after the last time he found himself doing the same thing...after a previous seven and another seven before then, and more yet. But he wasn’t the only one. In the same place, entertaining himself with the same activities, was the same person as always.

And that was when it occurred to him, the infinite loop: redundant and reiterating, comfortably uncomfortable, never a change or deviation. And in it, with no foreseeable end and no clear beginning, they were both stuck.

Michael slid the shades from his face and closed them with a snap. “...T. Hey.”

“I’d get out of the way...”

His freshly polished shoes remained in place and he said nothing more, simply opted to watch Trevor’s avoidance of him while he kept tossing grenades and drinking straight from the bottle. Someday, Michael thought, he might be strong enough to stay. Or perhaps Trevor might be strong enough to finally let him go. The latter was the path of least resistance, and what he strangely both dreaded and hoped for.

But when his eyes fell to his name inked on a bicep, he studied it for some time. And then finally... “T.”

“Time for the weekly drink, the weekly argument. The Yellow Jack, the bar next door...” Shrugging, Trevor set the whiskey down. “Let’s get a move on, porkchop. Make up for that lost time, mm?”

Michael huffed with a shake of his head. “A week? Or ten years of it?”

Raising his chin quickly, Trevor looked to him but Michael pivoted and let his footsteps carry him back to his car.

“I dunno, T. But I’m going back to the roof of the motel to try to figure it out.” The alarm disengaged with a chirp and as the door opened, he cocked his head. “You comin’?”

Trevor hesitated, scrutiny worn with conspicuous measure across his features. At last, his shoulders rose and his apathy was almost believable when he capitulated. “Ah, sure, why the hell not?” He tossed the bottle over the fence and strutted to the passenger door. “Would break up this fuckin’ monotony anyway.”

Michael breathed a laugh. “Yeah.” When he slipped into the seat, he changed the radio station to something new—some kind of electronic noise kids these days listened to. “I was thinking the same thing.”

As they drove down the street, Trevor put his feet on the dashboard and pressed his thumbs together. “So. This is really the end of us getting drinks, Mikey?”

“Shit, T. The end, the beginning.” Michael’s right hand slipped off the steering wheel and fell open-palmed between them. “Who fuckin’ knows anymore.”

It was a moment before Trevor’s fingers entwined with his own. “Good enough for me, Michael.” A beat. “For now.”

“For now,” Michael echoed. He drove past the motel and chased the sun until the last of its rays bled into the darkness—without ever letting go of Trevor’s hand, without Trevor ever letting go of his.

Hey. Maybe it was a start after all.

~

// Thank you for reading! This is my first story for this pairing and fandom. I’m sorry for any mistakes.

#trikey #gta v #gta 5 #long post #writing on plaid paper

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Somebody to love; Brian May x reader

*Author’s note*

Now this isn’t really a part 2 to Soulmates through music fic but I couldn’t help myself and write a little fluffy piece for this oneshot. Now I’ve already written pt.3 and I just need to do pt.2 hopefully before my schedule gets too crazy with all the research papers I’m going to be doing till May. So again this is just a cute little side shot for pt.1 of a three part oneshot that I had in mind for our loveable astrophysicist because I will tell you guys right now, the next part will be pretty angsty so enjoy the fluff while you can.

Now I’ve changed up some stuff in regards to who wrote what, and since Somebody to Love has been my all time #1 fav. Queen song, I thought about reader-chan writing the song for the purpose of this fic so please NO HATE. Freddie will ALWAYS BE the genius for writing this song. Enjoy my darlings :) don’t forget to reblog and comment.

Part 1      Part 2     Part 3       Part 4

Queen taglist *open*

@geek-and-proud

______________________________________________

*Nov. 11th, 1976*

I was just digging through some of my old boxes my mum had brought over to our place.  There were photos that either belonged up on the mantel or never deserved to see the light of day and I have no idea why my mother would think Brian should ever see these photos. Just because we’ve been married for 4 months now, doesn’t mean he has to see everything about me.

That’s when I came across a medium sized shoebox that was labeled.

SONG BOX

Oh my god, I had not seen this thing since I was a teenager.  I opened it up for shits and giggles and took out every piece of paper that was in that box. Soon the table was practically covered with old songs that I had written growing up.

I picked up one song that I had written at 15 that I for whatever reason I titled, “Swag King”.  I cringed as I set it aside and unfolded another one that was called, “”. How I ever got by these song titles I’ll never know.  I smiled widely and softly laughed remember how each song was made to about the time I could start song writing at like 13-14 years old.

“What’s got you so happy?” my smile got wider as I felt the familiar arms of my husband Brian wrap around my 6 month baby bump.

Oh did I forget to mention that part.  Well apparently Brian and I had gotten so drunk during the after party of the tour that we ended up having unprotected sex and the next thing I knew as I was trying to find me a wedding dress with Veronica, Mary and my mum, I raced to the bathroom and started puking my guts out. Shortly after going to the doctors, it turned out that I was about 8 weeks pregnant.

God I was soo terrified to tell Brian, I mean yeah we’d agreed to have a wedding right after the tour but we weren’t ready to raise a child just yet.  

Queen was bigger and more famous than we had ever been, gaining more fans worldwide, albums selling out as soon as they hit the market and songs going straight to #1 on the charts.  A child into the mix at this height of fame just wouldn’t be right for us, or our baby.

But bless him when he had found out, he held me that day as I wept hysterically and told me that he still wanted the baby and that no matter what we were gonna be fully supportive of our baby, and he was going to try and be the greatest dad he could be and he told me I’d be the greatest mum to our baby girl.  Of course that soon started a debate between us scientists until it finally turned into a bet on what the gender would be.

When it came time for the gender reveal that we wanted to know at the appointment, it turned out that Brian was right so once our baby girl is old enough for camp, we’ll be sending her off the space camp as per request of Dr. Brian May. While if we had had a boy, then we as a family once he was old enough would travel to Africa and go on one of those safaris that I’ve always wanted to go on.  

But whatever the gender and no matter the bet, I’m happy that we’re gonna have a baby girl.  I’ve always imagined Brian being this overprotective father to his little girls, embarrassing them to no end, but also being the shoulder to cry if they needed it.  I know he’s gonna be a great dad to our little princess when she comes out.

“Just looking through some stuff my mum brought over.”

“What kind of stuff?” he asked as he began to softly kiss up and down my neck.

“Just some old photos, home movies she’d thought we’d need to watch and….my box of old song lyrics.” He stopped kissing my neck and said.

“Really, may I have a look?”

“Absolutely not. Just because you are my husband doesn’t give you the right to snooping through my stuff that I’ve kept hidden during my teenage phase.”

“Ohh come now love, I’m sure they aren’t that bad.” He then reached out for the “Swag King” on and read it.  I bowed my head into my hands as he said, “I was wrong, this is terrible.”

“Brian!”

“I’m joking! It’s not that bad. I mean ‘Call him the Swag, because he don’t make me gag’. It’s good.”

“You don’t have to lie to me I know that song’s horrible.” I pouted as I sat down on the chair.

“No, no darling I think it’s cute. What’s this one here?” He then reached out for another piece of paper and unfolded it as he placed his head against mine kissing it.  “Lovin Elvis?”

“I was 13 when I wrote that give me a break. I was extremely hormonal and you know how much I loved the King. All my friends were crazy about him.”

“Maybe I can have the lads look over this one. Maybe even have it put on the “A day at the races” album.”

“You even take one of these papers and show it to them I swear to god Brian Harold May you will never know what happened to your red special.” That got him to shut up as he put the song away and sat down.

For the next several minutes we went through every song I ever wrote from the time I was a young teenage girl, to about the time Smile was beginning to form.

“Hey (y/n),”

“Hmm?”

“When did you write this one?” Brian said as he flipped the page over revealing the lyrics.

“Is there not a date at the top?”

“No I’m not seeing one.”

“Here hand it over.” He gave me the song and I looked at it to see it titled; “Somebody to love”.  I searched for the date and like Brian said I couldn’t find one until it hit me, “Oh wait now I know why. I never dated my songs until after they were complete. But I know this wasn’t written over 10 years ago, in fact I think I wrote this for Smile. Maybe even as Tim was forming Smile back when it was just the two of us.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, but when I ran it by him he told me the concept wasn’t ‘Rock and Roll’ enough. To gospel he said.” He looked over the paper once more and looked at me before taking my hand and suddenly leading me towards the piano we kept in our living room.  “Whoa, whoa Bri not so hard you do realize I’m six months pregnant with your child, anymore stress like that and I could burst and we’d have a child on our floor.”

“Sorry love, but I was wondering if you’d play the song for me?”

“Right now?”

“No in the next 10 years, of course now.”

“But Bri it’s not finished, I always hated singing incomplete songs, especially when left in the dust for so long.”

“Just please try, for me my love? For our baby girl? You know she loves it when her mummy sings to her.” He said as he lowered himself down to the ground and wrapped his arms around my bump and leaned his head against it, being sure to look up at me with those puppy blue eyes of his.

“Dick move using our daughter for your personal gain May.” I chuckled.

“But it works every time, don’t it?” I smiled and shook my head at him and agreed to it.  I opened the lid to the piano keys and had the sheet music in front of my on the stand and looked at it carefully.  I warmed up by playing a few chords and key changes before I dived right into the song.

By the time of the third word, my voice slightly cracked as I said.

“Oh Jesus I forgot how high I wanted that note to be.” And as I sung the last note as low as my voice could go, that’s when the piano playing began to pick up.  Like greeting a long lost friend, there was this connection and passion I had back when I had first written this song as my voice grew with a more passionate crescendo as I kept singing the song.

By the time I finished the chorus, I stopped playing and panted heavily.  I turned to Brian and he was just in awe at me.

“Well…..what did you think?”

“I think—we just found our literal Queen’s next big hit.” He leaned forward and captured my lips with his as we began to make out right there by the piano.

The next morning arriving at the studio, I had the song in my hand and I was nervously fiddling with it.

“I don’t know Brian what if the guys don’t like it?”

“Then they’d be bloody insane. I mean we were forced to put Roger’s car song on the last album and this song as at least three times as better than that song. They’ll love it darling, just like I did.” He said as he placed his hands on my arms rubbing them comfortingly. I sighed deeply and said.

“Okay I’m sorry. Guess pregnancy heightens my insecurities.”

“It’s going to all work out love, come on before Roger throws another coffee machine for us being late.” He wrapped an arm around me and we both entered the studio.

“About time you two showed up, thought you two would’ve been shagging or something.” Roger teased.

“I’m already pregnant with one child there Rog I don’t suddenly need another seed sprouting this late in the game.” I pointed at him.

“(Y/n) my darling, I swear you just keep getting more radiant with each passing day.” Freddie said as he came up and kissed both my cheeks.

“Oh stop it Fred, you jest.”

“I jest you not darling. The sun can’t compare to the shining light that stands before me.” He praised as he swung my hands back and forth.

“Lads, (y/n) actually has a future song ready for us.” Brian made the announcement.

“Really?” asked Deacy.

“Yeah I….well my mum brought in a bunch of old boxes from my family home and one of them happened to be my old song lyrics box. Filled with all the songs I’ve tried to write since I was 13 and Brian came across this song. It’s not finished and probably needs a lot of work but he says it’s Queen’s next hit. I don’t see it though.”

“Oh don’t be hard on yourself darling. Come now play it for us and show us what you’ve got and then we’ll see where to go from there.” Freddie said as he gestured me toward the piano.  He helped me sit down and I thanked him as I set the song on the piano stand and turned toward the boys who were all staring intently at me.

Brian nodded to me and gestured for me to breathe. I took a deep breath and proceeded to play the song for them, just as I had done for Brian last night.  Once I was done singing, Deacy, Roger and Freddie were all in deep thought and they all silently looked at each other.

“Well there’s something definitely wrong with your beginning statement before introducing us to this song. And that’s the fact that you don’t think this could be a Queen hit.” Roger stated.

“You’re serious.”

“As serious as he can get, yes it will need a bit of workshop but this song….I’m already hearing the bass for this song in my head right now.” Deacy said.

“Alright my dears, let’s get to work.” And it was then we immediately got to work on recording, ‘Somebody to love’.

“Okay so what I’ve got in mind is that this whole verse here is great, but it’s out of place. I think it should go somewhere after the bridge maybe even the third chorus.” Suggested Freddie.

“Okay I can see that, but then what would the second verse be?” I asked.

“How about this?” suggested Deacy as he held out a piece of paper.  I took the paper and saw.

“‘I work hard ((s)he work hard) every day of my life. I work till I ache my bones.’ Yeah I love it Deacy, but why did you put the he/she part in there?”

“Depends on whose singing this song of course.”

“Oh there’s no doubt, (y/n) will sing it. Won’t you darling?”

“Oh no, no, no, no Fred I—”

“Nonsense darling, this is something you clearly wanted to see come to life and I couldn’t sing it with as much passion as you give it. Well I could but I don’t want to.”

“Fred I don’t know, it’s rare when the fans allow a song to be sung by other than you. I mean you are the lead singer after all, they get all credits to singing.”

“Unlike most bands darling we share equal rights to songs. I didn’t reject Brian to taking the main leads to ‘39, hell I suggested you two take lead vocals for the chorus of that song. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to touch Roger’s sexual car song.”

“It’s a metaphor Fred!!”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night dear.” He said as he turned to Roger before turning back to me and placing a hand on my shoulder, “The point is darling, take this as your time to shine as the actual queen of Queen. Do it for us, for my future goddaughter.”

“Did you teach him that?” I said as I turned to Brian who only shrugged but he had that guilty look on his face.  I sighed deeply and said.

“Okay, but you guys have to stop guilting me like that. I mean it, you all are just too cute for your own good when you guilt trip me by using my unborn child as an excuse.”  Freddie cheered and planted a kiss on my cheek and so it was official that I would be the lead singer for this song.

The song took a few days to record ever instrument and every playback so that our voices sounded like a choir of 100 singers. I had to practice which vocalization techniques I wanted on the repeated phrase of “fine me somebody to love”.  I ended up trying over 10 until I was finally proud with one of them.

*May 18th, 1977, Houston, Texas*

It was like any other concert, not quite as stressful as a tour where you’re managed like crazy in order to keep a schedule and then move onto the next city, here we were just performing for a couple of days.  I had just gotten done with maternity leave about a month ago after giving birth to my daughter, Chloe Franklin May.

And Brian was over the moon the second he got to hold his daughter in his arms.  The boys were so happy for us and they fawned over their niece and spoiled her rotten, mostly Freddie of course.  I had Chloe back home with my mum while I had to get back to the boys but I knew this concert was going to be broadcasted so I hope they were watching the telly back home.

We had just gotten done with playing Bohemian Rhapsody when Freddie spoke into the microphone.

“Thank you. Featuring (Y/n) May at the piano.” The spotlight shined on me and I waved to the audience who cheered, “We’ve missed her dearly since her maternity leave, but we’re glad to have her back. Right now we’d like to play a song written by (Y/n) when she was still a single gal, probably dedicated it to a certain man who’d soon become her husband.” I flipped Fred off and he chuckled at me, “It’s currently rising at the tops of the singles charts thanks to you. And featuring on lead vocals herself the true queen of Queen. Here’s (Y/n) May with her song ‘Somebody to love’.”

I played a chord of the piano and I began to sing the song.  I first started off softly much like the record and then the boys backed me up on the low note for the word ‘love’.  I picked up on the piano as Fred came and sat down beside me joining me until it became a brief double piano duet.

But then Freddie allowed me to take his mic stand as I now stood up and sung the first verse as I walked to center stage. The spotlight shining on me as I finally reached center stage, just a few feet away from Brian as the boys joined in behind me.  By the time the second verse kicked in, my voice grew with passion as I allowed my throat to give some of the notes that sudden growl that I did on the record that no one not even the boys saw coming when we recorded it.

By the end of the 2nd chorus, I was so into the song, that my body suddenly lost control as I was lost in the rhythm of the song.  I even undid my bun and allowed my long hair to fly outwards which got some cheers from the crowd and I threw my scrunchy toward the audience as I sung with more passion.

Finally Brian’s guitar solo came up.  He came right up to me, serenading me with his guitar which never failed to send shivers up my spine.  Much like how a male emperor penguin who serenades his future mate with his love song.

I smiled at Brian and the two of us touched our foreheads together as he kept playing his solo and I vocalized into the microphone before resuming the next chorus before the bridge that originally was the second verse that I had written.

The boys and I put all of our passion and heart into playing and singing the song and then once the repetition part of ‘find me somebody to love’ came on, I led the audience into clapping to the rhythm of Roger’s drumming and said.

“I want to see every single person in this room, see every single pair of hands. Three! Four!” We then began singing the mantra and I could hear the audience singing along as I began my vocalization while the boys sang the mantra.  Letting my voice both slide or slowly crescendo then decrescendo as I adlibbed some speaking lines and then once the last part of the mantra began I was already belting out an “ahh” vocalization.

Suddenly I felt Brian’s arms around me and as I turned his face was right up close to mine.  As I softly crescendo my last solo I wrapped my arm around Brian’s neck and as I sang the decrescendo vocalization of the word “love”, Brian slowly dipped me and I leaned my head backwards, feeling his nose softly graze my neck.

When he pulled me back up, our lips met and Roger and Fred took over the last few lines as Brian and I swayed softly in each other’s arms.  Our foreheads leaning against each other’s and once the song had ended, the entire stadium roared with applause.  Suddenly I was snapped out of my trance realizing that we were performing a concert.

I hid my face into Brian’s shoulder but he took me out of his embrace and held my hand upward and gestured to me and the audience seemed to cheer louder, chanting my name.

I couldn’t help the wide smile that spread across my face as I took in the fact that a song that was once criticized by my brother as too gospel, was now Queen’s next big hit among its fans.

After our performances in Houston we were now back home in London.  Brian and I cuddled up in bed just shortly after putting Chloe in her crib by singing her to sleep since she enjoyed both her parent’s singing to her.  My head resting on Brian’s bare chest as his hand stroked through my hair.

“You know what I had realized, about when I wrote Somebody to love? Well it was more like after I stopped writing it.”

“What?”

“The next day, that’s when Tim had introduced you as Smile’s new guitar player.”

“The day we first met.” He muttered.  I nodded and raised my head up and placed it against my palm as I stared up at Brian.

“Guess that song was magical even with its incompleteness.” Brian smiled and stroked my cheek as he said.

“Glad I found it among those other songs. I love you (Y/n) May, you are my somebody to love.”

“And you are mine, Brian May.” I leaned down and captured his lips with mine and we both kissed each other softly but with so much love until finally we cuddled close to each other and went to sleep.

#bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody movie #bohemian rhapsody imagines #bohemian rhapsody x reader #brian may #brian may x reader #gwilym lee #gwilym lee!brian may #gwilym lee!brian may x reader #gwilym lee x reader #brian may x reader fluff #queen fanfic #queen fanfiction #queen imagines #queen imagine #gwilym lee!brian may imagine

[tarotdeckshuffle]

Four Suns: Chapter Four

Taglist: @idiotflowerex, @laststory1013, @sayaoqueen, @jophinabean, @mysme-already

If you like what you read, please consider supporting me on Patreon or buying me a Ko-fi!

Phew! Well, friends, here it is! The last chapter of my first ffxv chapter fic. I won’t say this piece is my best work, but I wasn’t going to leave it unfinished. I hope this brought you at least a little bit of pleasure when reading. <3

Tags: Angst, kidnapping of MC, near death, bad jokes, sci fi, open enough for me to possibly do a follow up (someday)

Word Count: 4,000 (oops)

<==Previous

Chapter Four: Sunset

The house had been silent when you stepped through the door. Instinctively, you flipped the switch, but nothing happened. The power shouldn’t have been out, but it wasn’t totally abnormal. You rummaged around in your pocket, looking for your cell phone. But it’s dead battery was a curse in the dark.

The door slammed shut next to you.

At that moment, you knew you were a part of a horror movie. “GET OUT” is all you could think. You lunged for the door, but a black skeletal hand beat you to the handle. Immediately, your body wanted to run, cold terror fueling you. But it was too late.

Another skeletal hand formed around you shoulder. The shadows coalesced, giving form to arms and a body attached to the hands. But this creature was different, the darkness gave form to a man, allowing color to shape his body.

“Now, now, love. You only just got home! Don’t leave just yet.” The shadows had become a man wearing layers of flowing dark clothes. His voice was sultry and seductive, but every cell in your body told you to run.

His hand on your shoulder  was all it took. Residual darkness, still living within you, sprang to life. You could feel ice move slowly through your veins, solidifying enough to keep you from moving.

“Now, let’s get to know each other better, shall we?” He pushed you through your house, towards the living room.

“I know who you are…” you managed.

“Ah, yes, I’m sure my name has been no end of sullied by your compatriots,” Ardyn sat down on your couch, quite at home. Moonlight streamed in through the windows, illuminating his suave features.

“But I suppose we’re even, for I know all about you.” His smile was wicked as he looked up at you. “I know your thoughts, your pains, even your lust.” His lips lingered on each word, tasting your fear.”Do you really think some paltry lamps could vanquish a shadow? Especially one that found a home deep in your heart. It’s been keeping me updated on you. Everything you experience, you do, you think…” he paused, looking up at you. “Even what you feel. Useful little devils, aren’t they?”

“I won’t help you…” you hoped your voice had more courage to it than you felt.

“Oh? I don’t need you to do anything. I have it all under control.”He snapped his fingers and the shadows of the floor sprung to life, forming the daemons you knew.

The monsters overturned furniture and ripped apart fabrics. They destroyed every memory you had in this place.

“What are you doing?!” You cried at the intruder.

“Just making it seem like we had more fun than we did. Your friends sure are taking their sweet time getting in here. I wonder if they left?” Ardyn stood, coming to be face to face with you. He snapped his fingers and the daemons vanished.

The house rattled as the front door flew open. Your heart fluttered as you heard your name called.

“Good…” Ardyn sneered as he swept around you, producing a knife at your throat and a sword in his other hand.

You watched in cold silence as the men bartered for you life. Four sets of eyes looked towards you with desperation and determination. You never knew you could feel so assured in their strength but still want to quell their fears, simultaneously.

But with another of Ardyn’s sweeping motions, everything went dark. You had seen the blade leave his hand. You wanted to scream, to warn the men, but everything around you dissolved.

There was no air, no warmth, and no sound in the darkness engulfing you. Just as soon as it began, it ended.

You were somewhere new. Somewhere filled with metal and red lights. Somewhere that smelled of stale air and dust.

“Welcome aboard,” your captor sang as he hit seemingly random buttons. You felt the entire ship move, although you had no view of the outside. Fear took hold as you left Earth for what could be the last time.

You were thrown back as the ship broke through the atmosphere, hitting your head on whatever instruments were hidden in the red glow. Pain caused the only stars visible in this ship.

All movement paused for a brief moment, suspended. “Shall we see how far the boys will go for you?” You couldn’t see his face, but you could hear the sneer in Ardyn’s voice. He punched more buttons in a rhythmic fashion before ending the tune with a staccato on a large button. The ship lurched again. You couldn’t feel your body or find the breath to scream.

You thought you were going to suffocate from not being able to breathe until the ship finally lurched to a standstill. The air around you was thin, but it tasted better than anything you could imagine.

“Aww, there! The perfect spot!” Ardyn spun from his seat, letting his great coat flourish behind him.

Between breaths, you demanded, “Where are we?”

“The last place a mere human ever thought they’d see: Dark Space.” You saw a dark hunger on the man’s face that shook you to the bone.

His boots clanked on the metal floor as he walked towards you. His steps outpaced your crawl as you tried to get away. He grabbed your hair, pulling you to your feet as you cried out.

“Now! What to do with you?” His brown eyes looked red in this light. “It seems so very cliche to throw you in the air lock, but such a waste to just kill you. Couldn’t you just be a good little human for me and sit right there?”

Sit?! This creep wanted you to sit quietly as he tried to kill the greatest things to ever happen to you! He wanted you to be quiet as he took away all the happiness in your life!

Calm down, you tried to think. What could you do?

“Fine…” You took deep breaths and stopped struggling against him. He looked at you with suspicious eyes before releasing you.

“Good.” He watched as you sunk to the floor before stalking back to his chair. He flopped down to face you. “Then, how about we chat to pass the time? We may have an eternity to get to know each other.” He rested his stubbly face in his hand.

“I doubt that…” Is all you said as you tried to restrain your hatred.

“Really? And why is that?” The man twirled his wine colored hair in his fingers.

Why was that? It was because you could feel that your saviors were on their way in your very bones. You knew they would find you, even if it took forever.

How could you tell this maniac that your heart had faith in the men? How could you explain that you would put your life in their hands without hesitation? That you would wait forever just to see them, again.

How could you explain that they were the first thing in forever to give you happiness and hope? They brought color and feeling back to your world. They lightened your heart and gave you strength.

“Because I know them. And when they get here, you don’t stand a chance.” You stared your captor down, feeling certain in your words. Just talking about them gave you courage.

“Oh, really? It sounds like I should be scared!” He jested with you, shaking his hands in front of him. You just glared back.

He started to laugh, a velvety sound, until he was crying. But a horrorid sight met your eyes as he looked up. Black sludge dripped from red eyes and his mouth. You could see the veins on his face as they turned black, as well.  “It sounds like you have far too much faith in your saviors.” He stood from his chair to pace the room. “They couldn’t save even one Lucian! What makes you think they can save a single, fragile, human like you?” He stared you down as he came towards you. This time you wouldn’t run, no matter how badly you wanted to.

One frozen finger lifted your chin. Inches from his daemonic features, you could smell sulfur on his breath. “My dear, I believe your love for these fools has blinded all reason you may have ever possessed.”

Love? Did you love them? Yes...that was the right word for your feelings, even if it did come from a madman. You loved everything about them and you loved being with them. You loved being surrounded by such unique individuals. You loved their passion for each other and how easily they welcomed you into their circle.

With them, you felt safe, whole, and happy. They were your guiding light on all of these new adventures.

There was no denying it: you loved them.

Your eyes gave away your shock, bringing joy to the daemon before you.

“Then perhaps it is time you weren’t so blinded in the light.” Ardyn smiled wickedly as his finger moved from your chin to cover your lips. The darkness in you rose to his touch.

You vision started to go black. You tried to hit out at the madman, but his free hand caught yours. His laughter started to sound farther away.

“ENOUGH,” a voice rang through the ship. It was Noctis’s! You saw a dagger hit Ardyn in the head followed by the Prince!

Without the Usurper, there was nothing holding the darkness up within you. As you felt the cold back away from your skin, you realized you didn’t have control over your body, anymore. Falling, you knew the cold metal would meet you soon.

Just before you hit you felt warm hands around your body. “Got’cha!” Gladio’s voice sounded victorious. He laid you in his arms and pulled you into his chest. You felt your whole body rise from the floor.

The world was still spinning around you as you saw blond hair come into view. “Are they ok?!” It was Prompto, frantically looking over you. You could hear the clash of metal beyond him as Ardyn and Noctis faught.

“They won’t be if you don’t get them out of there,” Ignis yelled from behind Gladio.

“Go! I’ll help Noct!” Prompto ran off. You didn’t want him to go, but were too weak to reach out for him.

Your vision started to fade. You felt like the sludge was creeping towards you skin, again, trying to escape. You saw a red hallway and heard distant sounds as you shut your eyes.

Silence followed. It was a cold silence that felt like it lasted for an eternity.

“NO! He shall NOT have you!” Ignis’s voice rang loudly through your thoughts.

Something warm hit your chest with force. Your eyes flew open and you gasped for air, not realizing you hadn’t been breathing.

“KEEP YOUR EYES OPEN!” Gladio was above you. He looked distressed. He laid a hand on your cheek. You smiled softly at him. “That’s it, keep those beautiful eyes on me…”

“I’ve almost got it!” Ignis was messing with some contraption next to you.

You felt the darkness coming back. It was angry as it clawed under your skin. “Hurry…” is all you could manage as you fought the black and red swirls in your vision.

“I am love...hang on...please, just hang on!” Ignis’s voice was breaking as he spoke. “GOT IT!” He cried out. All you could see was a wire wrapped glass container in his hand before he spun around and broke it on your chest.

Light. Pure, warm light flowed over your skin before seeping into every pore on your body. Your eyes were blinded as you felt the force of a star wash over you. Your ears filled with screams as the darkness was driven out of your body.

For a moment, you stood alone in a white room. All you could see was light around you. Turning back, you saw what appeared to be an old man with a gray beard. He smiled at you kindly. You blinked, and the scene was gone.

Coming back to your senses, you were coughing. Gladio held you up in his arms while Ignis held onto your hands. You focused your eyes on Ignis’s face, realizing that he was crying!

He noticed you fighting to calm your chest and looked up. Without a word he threw his arms around your neck and buried his face in your shoulder. Gingerly, you put your arms around him to comfort him.

Now that you could support yourself, Gladio could embrace you. He wrapped his arms around you, embracing both you and Ignis. “You’ve gotta stop doing this…” He whispered, before kissing your cheek.

“Why? I know you’ll always save me,” you jested to him.

Ignis looked up at that. “If you’ll let us.” He held you tight as he kissed your forehead.

There was a crash in the next room. Ignis’s head spun to meet it. “NOCT!” Ignis cried out as he leapt to his feet. Gladio was instantly at his side. Their weapons were at the ready as they hesitated, looking back at you.

“Go! I’ll be fine! He needs you!” That’s all they needed to hear.

You could hear the battle raging in the next room: the sounds of metal hitting and blasters firing. All you could think of doing was helping the men you loved, but how? What if you just got in the way?

The door to the bridge swished open suddenly as Gladio was pushed through by Ardyn. The dark man held his own, even against four! Jumping to your feet, you got out of the way. You looked around, trying to find a safe place to go, when an idea struck you.

At the end of the all, you saw a door with a window to space on it. Every scifi movie you had ever seen told you that was the airlock!

Bolting down the hallway, you slammed the button next to the door, opening the first of the two doors. Then you dashed back towards the bridge.

The men were all still entrenched in combat, barely noticing where you went. Noctis attacked with Prompto’s support and Ignis’s follow up ended by Gladio’s finale. But still, Ardyn stood.

You reached the bridge. It was now a disaster from all of the fighting, but the controls were still intact.

“Prompto!” You called out the nearest man to you. You had to let them know what the plan was.

“Be right there!” Your sunshine called, trying to find a break in the fighting. He gained one and ran to your side.

“Are you hurt?! What’s up?!” He held you, searching you for a mark.

“I’m fine! I’ve got a plan!” You weren’t in distress this time. Now, it was your moment to be a hero. “Line him up with the airlock,” you shouted to Prompto over the sounds of the fighting.

Prompto looked around and spotted the open door down the hall.

“Ah! I get it!” Prompto touched his finger to his head then pointed at you, winking. “Good plan!” He kissed your cheek before running off.

Prompto made gestures to the other men, you figured he was informing them of the plan in some weird alien way. But you didn’t have time to watch.

You could vaguely remember the buttons Ardyn pressed to propel the ship. Hopefully, you could remember just enough to do it again.

The fighting was quieting as Noctis warped beside you. “Ready?” His cool voice was soft in your ears.

“I hope so.” You muttered.

Noctis smiled as he took your hand and kissed it. “You’ve got this. I know you do.” Then, he was off, again, warp striking Ardyn.

You hit enough buttons to prepare the ship. You could hear engines whirl under you. You panicked, hoping you had hit the right combination, but there was only one way to know.

“NOW!” Noctis cried out.

SLAM!

You hit the large button with all of your strength.

All was silent for a moment as engines whirled to life around you. Even Ardyn hesitantly looked around, wondering what had happened.

BOOM!

The ship went into warp drive. Throwing everyone against the walls. Only Ardyn was out in the open. He fell, arms stretched out in front of him, all the way down the hallway, until he slammed against the outside door.

Noctis threw his sword, warping into the airlock controls. He wasn’t aiming, he just let his whole body hit the buttons and close the door.

Suddenly, the ship came out of warp. Everyone gasped for air as they regained their barings.

“That was awesome!” Prompto tackled you, throwing his arms around your neck as he layered kisses onto your cheeks.He was soon joined by Gladio and Ignis, as they swept the two of you into their arms. Noctis joined last, wiggling into the middle of the group to hold you, himself.

“You were amazing!” Noctis whispered, kissing your forehead.

“C’mon, you should know how to kiss a human by now,” you half joked, looking up at the prince.

His cheeks turned red and he started to stammer at your remark.

You laughed at his awkwardness. “Can anyone show him?”

“Me!” Prompto was on your lips in an instant, meeting yours with his soft, warm kiss.

As Prompto pulled away, Gladio spun you around. His kiss was salty, hot, and full.

Just as you thought yourself too dizzy to continue, Ignis joined in. He pulled your shirt as Gladio pulled away, making you fall into his chest. There, you were met with gentle eyes before a deep kiss. His lips were sure and gentle. His breath was hot as you pulled away.

“My turn,” Noctis growled. You turned to him, throwing your arms over his shoulders. His kiss was deep and cool. His lips were gentle, but sure as they parted yours. Your tongues danced as he pulled you closer.

You were woken from you passion by tapping on glass. Looking around, you saw it was Ardyn, tapping on the airlock.

“I suppose we should see to him, first,” Ignis commented.

You moved to face the Usurper. The men took positions in front of you, with Prompto at your side.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to…” Prompto said, taking your hand. You nodded, knowing that this man almost ended your life, twice.

At the window, Noctis faced Ardyn. The prince summoned his weapon and held it before the glass. Suddenly, the sword he had been holding changed shape, becoming a pistol! Then, it changed shape, again, this time to a spear!

“You failed, Ardyn.” He said. His voice was confident and deep.

“Oh? Did I? Have you seen Lucis, yet?” The caged man cooed.

“I’m about to.”

“I’m sure. And what, dear Prince, are you going to do with me?” Ardyn was pacing the airlock now. “You can jettson me, but you know that won’t kill me. You could leave me here, but I’ll find a way out...there’s really no way to win.”

Noctis looked into the chamber, contemplating. He turned to you. “What do you want to do?”

You thought for a moment. You never wanted to end someone’s life, but...did this man even live?

“He won’t die if we shoot him into space?” You needed to be sure.

“Nope!” Prompto piped.

“Bastard’s immortal,” Gladio added.

“At least, so far.” Ignis finished.

You stepped out from beside the men. Ardyn stared you down from the other side of the glass.

“Ah, the hero of the day! And what, praytell, do you have to say about all of this, my dear?”

“Don’t call me dear.” Your fist slammed the second button of the airlock. The outer door flew open. Ardyn was lost to the darkness.

The men looked at you, stunned.

“We have a head start, now.” You were suddenly unsure of what you had done.

“Huh...well, then I say we use it!” Noctis said, taking your hand and running down the hallway.

You got to the Regalia, which the men had docked within Ardyn’s ship. As you departed, you saw the whole universe stretch before you. The sight still took your breath away.

“How’d you find me?” You asked the room, not looking away from the window. You had to wonder if you had really been rescued or if this was some wonderful dream.

“We...found our light,” Noctis said. You turned to him, searching for an explanation.

He sighed. “When you were taken, we didn’t know what to do. We had no idea where Ardyn had taken you or if you were even still alive.” He paused, looking around the room. “The rest of you can jump in, anytime!”

“Naw, you got this.” Gladio kicked his feet up onto the console to listen.

Noctis sighed, again. “Fine...Well, we had to decide what we wanted to do. And we decided, all of us, that regardless of the odds, despite not having the Sword of the Father, we were going to save you. We had to.”

“We found the Sword because we wanted to find you. Then...the sword had the coordinates etched on it’s blade.” He produced the blade to show you. It had some strange numbers and symbols etched over its length.

“Ok, I guess. So, how’d you get the blade?” you asked, still confused.

“Well, it was in this moment that my father had hidden the sword. Turns out, Ardyn never had the sword. My father hid it before that bastard killed him. He put it in what he called a ‘moment of light.’ A moment where you are so determined and invigorated with hope and love that nothing will deter you. And in that moment, he gave us two gifts: the Sword of the Father, a weapon to destroy all who stand against Lucis; and the essence of a supernova, one of the greatest healing forces in the galaxy.”

“So...you saw your father, again?” You asked.

“Sort of. I saw a fragment of his soul. It was a piece of him as how I remembered him.” Noctis looked contemplative.

“Does he have a gray beard?” You remembered the figure you saw after Ignis had broken the essence over you.

Noctis looked at you, shocked and confused. “Yeah…”

“He was in the essence Ignis healed me with, too,” you tried to explain.

Noctis looked so confused by everything.

“Wait...so we had the exact medicine you needed because of the King AND the coordinates of where Ardyn had taken you?!” Prompto voiced all of your disbelief.

Ignis smiled. “Our predecessors seemed to know far more than we ever will.”

“Someone sure does…” Gladio added.

“Well, that’s a big wonder of the universe that can wait for another day! Besides, I for one am glad they got us to Earth!” Prompto came to put his arm around you.

“Have to wonder how the rumor of the sword being there got started…” Gladio commented.

“About Earth…” Noctis turned his gaze to you. “Do you want to go back?” His eyes seemed hesitant, as though hoping for a specific answer.

“You...could come with us…”

The idea hadn’t found words in your mind until this point, but you realized you had been holding onto the hope all along. Everything was right when you were with the four of them. You were safe, happy, and warm. You could explore the galaxy with them by your side.

Leaving Earth was a terrifying idea. Where else in the galaxy were there humans? But, what did you really have back there? An empty house, a lonely beach, and a normal life. You had been hanging onto your home out of fear of the unknown. Now, you didn’t have to fear the unknown, because you had the men you loved by your side.

“Where to next, your majesty?” You turned back to the men, a smile on your lips.

They all beamed back at you.

“I think our next stop is the Knotty Room,” Gladio was upon you, sweeping you off of the ground as you laughed.

“Seconded!” Ignis was right behind him.

“Thirded!” Prompto called, following.

“First!” Noctis called, thinking himself clever.

“You normally are…” Gladio teased back.

The whole universe stretched out around the Regalia, but it could wait. For in that moment, you were in the most beautiful love time had ever seen.

#four suns #ffxv #OT4 x reader #scifi au #noctis x reader #prompto x reader #gladio x reader #ignis x reader #fanfiction #poly #final fantasy

[future-rp]

STATIC’s main rap jae

verve creative; song-making, lyric-writing 04 vocal / 14 rap / 02 dance

the only thing that lingers of the life you could have had is your name, because it’s one your ‘ actual ‘ mother had officially asked for ( you put quotation marks around actual, because you look at tianmin and feel a surge of affection course through you that can only be that of true familial love ). you’re barely a week old when she leaves you at your father’s door, anyway, and it’s not like you ever hear from her again; not that you ever want to, when you have everything you need right here.

they like to call your family a melting pot of cultures, and you can’t say they’re wrong. you are a child of taekwondo and hip hop, of taiwanese cooking and new york subways, and while the kids at school could never pronounce the food you brought to school or even the proper way to say your mom’s name you never minded, really, so long as you get to bond over the same rap music that echoes around the walls of your and your older brother’s room. you’re a middle child in every sense of the word, but while that might bother some people you learn about the golden mean early on; when you’re in the greatest city in the world surrounded by family that brings you joy that’s second to none, you find that maybe wise old aristotle really was wise, after all.

but halmeoni gets sick, and suddenly you’re flown across the world to a place that’s supposed to be half your home and yet feels like none of it. itaewon is nice, but despite your own culture you’ve never felt more out of place; you can speak korean but when faced with pen and paper it comes out jaunty and fragmented –– not unlike how you’re feeling now. homesickness finds you staring out the window, glancing up at passing planes and wishing one of them could bring you back to a place you felt you belonged.

your father’s vinyls are the closest thing to manhattan you have: nas and gin and juice, nwa and a tribe called quest are the only voices that keep you sane, lyrics echoing around in your head as you walk across seoul streets with walkman in hand and groceries in the other. but it takes one day of forgotten headphones at home and one impromptu subway adventure to find that seoul has a beat of its own. the buskers in hongdae catch your eyes and ears with their distinct sound, and after you’ve searched hard enough the underground rap scene welcomes you in and blows you away almost immediately. soon enough you’re writing fluent korean for the sole purpose of finishing up lyrics bilingual in nature, taking your new york roots and adding seoul to your soul to create mixtapes that spread like wildfire across the independent scene.

your brother leaving for training –– idol training, of all things –– comes as a blow: you were two peas in a pod and you’re certain without this newfound appreciation for korean rap you’d be more lost than ever. being away for him for longer than a week is new territory, with you reinstated head sibling now while he’s on his way to becoming a star ( not like you were ever surprised; you were always his biggest fan ). you take on new roles in the family, higher responsibility, while still immersing yourself all the more in the mixtapes and tracks you’ve created for yourself. more time with your sisters equals more time learning about mainstream korean music, about different beats and rhythms and melodies that begin to occupy your head almost as much as hip hop does ( you scoff, still, at the bubbly pop sound, though only when your sisters aren’t looking ). friends from the underground collective teach you more about production and soon you’re hooked, not just with producing lyrics but beats, too, that reach more ear than you could’ve imagined.

and funnily enough, you find you’re a lot more like your brother than people had initially thought; when verve contacts you after a particularly popular track makes its way across the soundcloud sphere you assume they’re joking, but the contract they offer proves they’re nothing if not dead serious. james and tianmin are more lenient with you going, too, moreso than they had been with your brother ( something you like to gloat about in jest often ), and soon enough you’re a trainee, just like your best friend.

except it comes with its disadvantages. with social media taken away and management watching your every move you grow in disquiet. you long for your home, for the underground, for your siblings and your mom and for everything you’d chosen to leave behind for this life that’s barely that. songs are produced and lyrics are written and yet almost all are swept under the rug, replaced by vocal training and goddamn dance practice you have little to no patience for. you’re a nightmare of a trainee; defiant and indignant, you give management hell’s worth of headaches, but it’s for your undeniable rap skill that they refuse to let you go, no matter how impossible you become.

what’s only meant to be two years of training becomes three, solely because of your inability to rein in your own attitude. you sneak out ( if only to visit your siblings ) and roll your eyes during etiquette classes, and while you’ve warmed up to the idea of vocal practice ( if only to add more layers to your own tracks ) you still find dancing a pointless appendage to actual talent. but you learn to stomach your indifference, if only slightly, and it’s enough to place you in a line up for verve’s first ever boy group since their initial flop.

with their first boy group in years comes pressure on the shoulders of five boys; you’re main rapper, to no one’s surprise, and finally get to have some of your own work to the mix of superficially produced sound. you contribute lyrics to the first b side and your very first debut, which happens two years after your brother’s, and you’re grateful enough for the tougher, edgier rhythm that comes with your group’s initial launch.

they call you all static, though you and your members have proven to be anything but: your presence on variety shows is noted by most, and your group is versatile as it is charismatic. on camera you’re even louder, more pleased with the attention you garner; and while you wouldn’t be caught dead doing aegyo, you’re sure to offer the camera a wink or two to appease your fans. your cockiness reads as arrogance, and smartass comments are a hit and miss; one comment too “out of line” and the figurative smack on the head comes in full throttle. it’s something you’re working on ( which doesn’t necessarily mean you’re pleased about it ), though the results can be pretty polarizing: you’re either jae the arrogant or jae the clever, but you’re grateful ( and so is verve, you think ) that your fans see you for the latter ( the rest of the industry has yet to be decided ).

you’re the resident new york heartthrob, through and through: rumors of the way you take hearts for your own reach far and wide, and with your looks people have never put it past you. but you’ve only got space in your heart for your music and your family, and you doubt that’s something that could ever change. off camera you’re still as defiant as ever, and while members may have learned to deal with you ( you treat them all like brothers, since family is rooted at your very core ) management’s on their toes waiting to see what you’ll do next.

let them, you think. you were meant to make everyone tremble.

#ft. accepted #ft. static bio