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violentdelightsandviolentends · 20 days

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Honey Girl. Chapter Eight.

chapter one. chapter two. chapter three. chapter four. chapter five. chapter six. chapter seven. series masterlist. the playlist.

Chapter Synopsis - Turns out, you’re not the only ones with a secret.

Pairing - Dadsbestfriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Warnings - cursing. mentions of hospitals/medical settings.

Word Count - 5k

Authors Note - I promise that the reveal was supposed to be in this part!! but I hit 5k words real quick and thought rather than rush it, I’d give it its full own chapter. guess what’s coming next ;). as always, thank you for your love and support and patience and encouragement and kindness. don’t know where I’d be without it <3

as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my writing, which generates more of it. feel free to send me a comment or an inbox, too!! thanks, my loves!! <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

The sun beams through the white linen curtains, salty ocean breeze drifting through the open window. The rays warm your skin as you kick off the sheets, stretching your arms above your head. You turn over, to find the space next to you empty.

Rubbing the sleepiness from your eyes, you yawn, inhaling the scent of breakfast. Throwing on Bucky’s soft blue button up, you pad out to the kitchen to find him at your stovetop, shirtless and sun kissed.

“I’m getting the full girlfriend experience, huh?”

He grins at the sound of your voice, entire body lighting up with it.

“Girlfriend,” he laughs. “This is the soulmate experience, baby. It’s even better.”

You shake your head, but you can’t fight the smile that etches itself on your face. He looks so at home here, so comfortable. He reaches up to grab a plate from your cupboard, and you feel the sudden urge to burst into tears.

He knows where everything is.

He’s learnt his way around the kitchen just like he’s learnt his way around your heart. Your soul. Your very existence.

“You okay?”

He turns off the burner and glides over to you, warm hands finding your hips like it’s second nature.

“What’s wrong? You like pancakes,” he teases, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead tenderly. “Oh no. Did you want waffles?”

You shake your head, swallowing down the lump in your throat.

“I’m fine,” you say, but your voice cracks instantly.

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

He says it so gently, so carefully. You feel like a precious flower, something to be taken care of, cherished, loved. No one has ever made you feel like this.

“I just realised you… fit, here. Like you were always supposed to. I can’t really remember what this apartment was like before it had you in it too.”

Bucky cradles your face in his hands, tilting your head up to look at him.

“Wherever you are. That’s where my home is.”

You surge forwards to press your lips to his, alive and buzzing with the electricity of being loved so wholly. He reciprocates instantly, wrapping his arms around your back to pull you closer, so you’re chest to chest.

“Your pancakes are going to burn,” you mumble, forehead resting on his.

“Let them.”

“No, don’t let them. I’m not calling the fire department today.”

He laughs, kissing you again chastely before returning to his original position. He plates up your breakfast - pancakes, fruit, granola and yoghurt, with fresh coffee in your favourite mug.

“I could get used to this.”

“And you will,” he flirts, kissing the crown of your head. “Every day for the rest of your life, baby. You’re gonna have to wake up to my face forever.”

You pretend to shudder, laughing when he pinches your side.

“Come on, trouble. Let’s eat breakfast on the balcony and pretend we’re on a tropical vacation somewhere.”

“Sounds perfect.”

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

“We’re really doing this.”

You look up at Bucky, the heavy weight of his arm around your shoulders acting as a grounding agent. Your plates are discarded on the table, cleared and finished, the two of you curled up in your loveseat. The sun is getting warmer, and it’s bringing out Bucky’s freckles, all boyish and glowy.

“We don’t have a choice.”

“Honey girl, there’s always a choice.”

“Not this time,” you sigh, shifting so you can face him properly. “I wanted to do this on our terms, and now I feel like I’ve been forced into it. It isn’t fair.”

“We can wait,” Bucky reassures, confident and understanding. “We don’t have to do anything until you’re ready.”

“I am ready. I have been for a while. It just sucks that it feels like I’ve been pushed in a certain direction, you know?”

“I know,” he soothes, work rough fingertips tracing patterns on your bare legs. “But like you said, we were going to do it anyway. This is still our choice. These are still our terms.”

You press your lips onto his cheek, chuckling when his stubble tickles your skin. He retaliates by attacking you with kisses, planting them all over your face, wherever he can reach. You squeal, hands flying out to his bare chest to try and stop him.

“Your neighbours are going to think there’s a murder happening,” Bucky laughs, fingers sliding up your shirt to rest on your ribs.

“Oh no, they love you too much for that.”

He quirks his eyebrows in surprise.

“They do?”

“The lady that lives next door, Mrs Daniels - she’s like ninety, has that white cat you always see?”

Bucky nods in recognition, so you continue.

“She talks about how handsome you are every time I see her. Always asks when the ‘man that looks like a movie star’ is coming over next.”

He laughs, shaking his head as you tease him.

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious! She probably watches you come and go from her balcony. She’s gonna love it in the summer, when you turn up in your short shorts with no shirt on.”

Bucky chuckles, pulling you into him and leaning his head on top of yours.

“Don’t be jealous, baby. You’re the only one for me.”

“I better be,” you chide jokingly, pinching his thigh in warning.

“I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.”

There’s no humour, anymore. Just love. So much love.

“I’m here now,” you whisper. “And I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

Bucky leans in to press a kiss to your lips, gentle and filled with a lifetimes worth of promise.

“I love you, honey baby.”

“I love you, Bucky Barnes.”

You let the morning sun slip over you like silk sheets, warm and smooth and completely luxurious. Bucky’s steady breathing grounds you slowly as peace and contentment settle into your bones, weighted and calming. No matter what happens today, you know one thing for certain - you have the security of Bucky’s love to fall back on.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You’ve been sat in Bucky’s truck for twenty five minutes.

It’s parked down the block from your parent’s house, just out of the way. You were pulling in to their street when you panicked, begging Bucky to stop the car so you could breathe for a second.

“Sweet girl, we’ll be fine.”

“I know. I know,” you exhale. Inhale again. “Why is this so hard?”

“Because we’ve been thinking about this moment ever since that first night.”

“It’s almost been a year.”

That seems to stop Bucky in his tracks for a second.

“It… it doesn’t feel that long. Feels like yesterday. But also, somehow, like I’ve loved you my whole life.”

You lean over the console to kiss him softly, trying to ignore the hummingbird fluttering of your heart in your chest.

“Honey, I can feel your anxiety, remember? If you don’t calm down a little, we’ll both collapse.”

“Sorry,” you laugh, taking a deep breath. “Sorry.”

Bucky intertwines his fingers with yours, thumb running over the backs of your knuckles. Soothing, like a field of lavender gently blowing in the breeze on the first day of spring.

“We have to do it sometime.”

“I know,” you nod, squeezing his hand once, twice, three times before pulling away and fixing your hair in the tiny mirror. “Let’s do this. Now or never.”

You pull up outside your childhood home, instantly relaxing a little at the sight of the colourful drapes and flowers in the windows.

“Shit, Buck. We haven’t even planned what we’re gonna say.”

“We don’t need to. Just speak from your heart, baby. I’ll follow your lead.”

When you walk up the driveway, you know there’s no turning back. You also know that the weight on your shoulders will feel a hell of a lot less heavy when you leave. It’s a double edged sword, but you’re ready to wield it, with love as your armour and Bucky as your shield.

You stand a foot apart and ring the doorbell, bouncing nervously on the soles of your feet.

“Hi, sweetheart. Oh - hey, Buck.”

“Hi, Mama.”

“Hi, Lori.”

“Didn’t expect to see you both today.”

You go to speak, but she continues quickly.

“I’m glad you’re here. We need to talk to you both about something. Come in, come in.”

You look at Bucky, realising suddenly that your chest is filled with a foreign anxiety. It’s his.

You squeeze his hand chastely as you walk past him to enter the house, kicking off your shoes in the hallway.

There’s something in the atmosphere when you walk into the living room. The sun is still shining, everything is in its rightful place… but it feels wrong. You know Bucky feels it too, judging by the way his muscles tense next to you.

“Is everything alright, Mama?”

You hate the way your voice sounds like a child’s, small and naive. Your Dad is sat on the couch waiting, always happy to see you. You press a kiss to his cheek before taking a seat across from him, Bucky sitting next to you. Your Mom joins your Dad, both of them looking at you with too much compassion for a normal day.

“What are you two doing here?” your Dad asks, voice still full of light.

Something inside of you is telling you to abort mission, postpone until further notice. You listen to it, wondering for a second if somehow you and Bucky can send messages to each other telepathically all of a sudden.

“Mama said you needed to talk to me. To us.”

He looks taken aback, only for a second. Something like sadness flashes in his eyes before he paints that familiar smile right back on his face.

“Yeah, we do. You sure you don’t wanna tell us why you’re here, first?”

“It can wait,” you reassure, catching Bucky’s minute nod from the corner of your eye.

“Okay,” your Mom begins. “First of all, I need to tell you not to panic, okay? It’s going to seem super scary, but it isn’t.”

Bucky slides closer to you by a millimetre, but you feel it like it’s a mile.

“I don’t really know how to tell you this, honey, so we’ll just start from the beginning. Jack?”

Your Dad nods before taking over the storytelling.

“It all started last year. I was doing some work in the backyard. One minute I was mowing the lawn, the next I was lying on the ground.”

All of the colour drains from your cheeks, and Bucky slides ever so slightly closer again.

“We thought maybe it was heat stroke, or dehydration. No cause for concern, and nothing your Mom’s iced tea couldn’t fix.”

She takes his hand in hers, both of them with their eyes fixed on you.

“But then it happened again. In the shower, this time. I didn’t hit my head, luckily, but I did whack my shoulder against the tiles, which hurt like hell.”

He laughs, and so does your Mom, but you’re not sure what’s funny. Anxiety is rolling off you in waves so strong, Bucky’s worried he might pass out.

Your Mom takes back the reigns, continuing.

“I was insistent that he saw a doctor, which he was reluctant about. Luckily, he agreed, finally,” she gives him a look, “and we got referred to a specialist.”

“What kind of specialist?” you choke out. It feels like someone is sitting on your chest, constricting your lungs with every passing minute.

“A cardiologist.”

It seems to be that word that unravels everything for you. All you can think is cardiologist heart attack cardiologist surgery cardiologist. Serious. Serious. Serious.

“Sweetheart?”

You grab Bucky’s hand, praying that the familiar touch will ground you back down to Earth. When it doesn’t, you feel like you’re falling, down and down and down with no end in sight.

“Honey, it’s okay. Hey, listen to me. You’re okay.”

Your Mom sits down on the other side of you as your Dad kneels down, forcing you to look at him.

“Sweetheart, don’t panic, okay? Everything’s going to be fine. I know it’s scary, but I’m okay.”

“For now,” you whisper, limp in your throat forming.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, and I know it’s probably not what you were expecting us to say. We thought we’d wait until we had answers to tell you… but it’s taking longer than expected. Which is why we’re telling you now. We don’t want you to feel like you’re in the dark.”

Bucky’s running his thumb over the lines on your palm, reassuring and steady. He knows exactly how to comfort you, like a warm blanket wrapped around your shoulders. If you listen carefully enough, you can hear the drumming beat of his heart. You tune into it, letting the familiar rhythm calm you down.

“Sorry,” you murmur. “I’m being dramatic.”

“You’re not being dramatic,” your Mom responds, squeezing her hand over your knee. “It’s overwhelming. And we’ve just… thrown it at you, with no warning. It’s a lot to take in.”

You’re anxious and scared and completely lost. You’re also safe and home and completely surrounded by love from all sides.

“I’m okay,” you nod, taking a deep breath.

Your parents return to their couch across from you, but Bucky’s hand doesn’t let go of yours. If they think it’s strange, they don’t say anything. You have a feeling they’re a little preoccupied.

“Now what?”

“Your Dad is still undergoing tests to get to the root of the issue. Whatever they find, we know we’ll all be okay.”

“Your Mom’s right. I have an appointment this afternoon for an EKG. They’re trying to rule things out slowly. We’ll get to the bottom of it, sweetheart.”

“Are you okay?” you ask, suddenly realising you’ve accidentally made this about you.

“I’m fine,” he laughs. “Seriously. I know it’s scary, but I feel good in myself for the most part. The most annoying thing is that I can’t predict it - it just happens. Very inconvenient, if you ask me.”

Your parents laugh, and this time, you try to chuckle with them.

“You’ll keep us updated, won’t you?”

Bucky’s voice surprises you, somehow. His fingers are still intertwined with yours, but you’ve been so focused on your Dad, you almost forgot he was there.

“Of course, Buck.”

“And if you ever need a ride to an appointment or anything, all you gotta do is ask, alright?”

“You offering to take me on your motorcycle?”

“Sure,” Bucky laughs.

“Absolutely not,” your Mom says at the same time.

You chuckle for real, now. This feels like normality - the four of you, joking around. You have to remind yourself, sometimes, that Bucky knew your Dad before he ever knew you. You were away at culinary school when they met, but you were told stories instantly about this new guy in town who bought the old Garage and drives a cool truck. Your Mom, of course, didn’t fail to mention his big blue eyes and chocolate brown hair, or the way his shirt hugged his biceps. You thought she was exaggerating, when she said he was handsome.

Oh, how wrong you were.

You’re one hundred percent sure you’ve never met a more beautiful person. Maybe it’s your Tethering talking. Maybe it isn’t. You’re not unaware of the way people look at Bucky - he’s got this old school movie star thing going on, and people seem to eat it up. You get it. You get it more than anyone.

But it isn’t his pretty face that makes your heart skip a beat. It’s just him. Him, with his contagious smile and healing laugh and observant eyes. Him, with his confident demeanour but gentle touch, his mind reading abilities, his talent for making you feel like you’re the only person in the room. He’s a rarity, Bucky Barnes. A diamond in the rough. You remind yourself everyday how lucky you are.

He knocks his knee into yours, pulling you out of your daydream. He gives you a look that asks are you okay? to which you nod subtly in reply. A conversation, somehow both silent and loud.

“As much as I’d love to stay here all day, we should get ready to go. My appointment is soon.”

Your Dad strides over to you, wrapping you in his arms. You instantly feel like a little girl again, safe and protected no matter what. You bury your face into his chest a little more, inhaling the familiar scent of your home.

“Everything’s okay, sweetheart,” he whispers into your hair. “Promise.”

You nod against him, tightening your arms ever so slightly. He gives you a squeeze, letting you know he got the message.

As you’re putting your shoes on in the hallway, you can hear your Dad and Bucky chatting away about the baseball game from the previous night, routine easily resumed. Your Mom brushes your hair back from your face, looking at you carefully.

“I almost forgot why you came here in the first place, babygirl. What’s up? What did you want to tell us?”

Your heart skips a beat and Bucky feels it, glancing over to you with concern in his ocean blue eyes.

“It’s okay, Mama. It can wait.”

She raises her eyebrows in scepticism.

“Promise,” you reassure. “Another day.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but lets it go anyway, pressing a kiss to your cheek gently.

“We’ll call you after his appointment and let you know what they say. We love you. So much.”

You hug her fiercely, realising that you don’t do it often enough.

“Love you guys. More than anything.”

Bucky gives you a nod that tells you he’s ready to go, both of you leaving a little different than you entered.

“Call us as soon as you get out of that room, okay?”

“We will, Buck,” your Dad laughs, mock saluting his best friend.

Bucky chuckles, falling into step next to you as you walk down the driveway. You make your way down the street, out of your parents view, before your knees give out. He manages to catch you just in time, strong arms wrapped around your middle. You both sit on the kerbside, Bucky rubbing soft patterns into your back through your shirt.

“Baby, hey. You okay? Talk to me.”

You take a deep breath, looking at him with watery eyes.

“What if it’s bad, Buck?” you whisper. “I can’t do this without him. He’s the best Dad in the world.”

Bucky pulls you closer, fitting you into his side perfectly. Two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, made for each other.

“They don’t lie to you, honey. They’d tell you if it was really serious. All you can do is wait, and hope everything will be okay. Which it will.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, letting his warmth calm you down.

“My Mama knows something.”

“Like what?”

“About us. She didn’t say anything, but I could see it on her face. She didn’t push it any further, but she was definitely suspicious.”

“We’ll tell her soon. Give it a little more time.”

You nod, wrapping your arms around his bicep tightly. He presses a kiss into your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo as he does it.

“Let’s go home, hmm? We can sit in the sun for a while, chop up that pineapple we bought yesterday.”

“Sounds perfect,” you whisper, looking up at him.

The afternoon hits his face just right, all warm yellow light and soft angles on his cheeks. The intermittent salty breeze ruffles his hair, all fluffy and sea swept. He looks like an ancient statue, a work of art from the renaissance, a museum piece. The sun could burn out tomorrow, but you’ll have a life source forever. Your Soulmate.

Bucky takes your hands in his and helps you to your feet, heavy arm slung over your shoulders as you walk back to the truck.

Your light in the dark. Your water in the desert. You’ve never been more grateful for him.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

“Close your eyes.”

Bucky’s driving you home, the sound of the ocean waves hitting the shore a replacement for the radio.

“What?”

“Close your eyes, sugar. I want to show you something.”

“How are you gonna show me if my eyes are shut?”

He chuckles, pinching your thigh.

“Just shut up and close your eyes.”

You smile gently before doing as he says, covering your face with your hands for good measure.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise. You’ll like it, I promise.”

You relax back into the seat, allowing the breeze from the open window to whip through your hair. Eventually you come to a stop, Bucky clicking off your seatbelt for you.

“Keep ‘em closed.”

Bucky sprints around to the passenger side, swinging open the door and wrapping his arms around you. He practically carries you out of the car, ensuring you don’t trip while you have no vision. He plants you on two feet, making sure you’re steady before he lets go of you.

“Okay. Open your eyes.”

You blink slowly, adjusting to the brightness of the afternoon.

You’re in the middle of nowhere. The two of you are stood on a huge, grassy plot of land, overlooking a small cove of the beach. You’re tucked completely out of the way, not a neighbour to be seen. All you can hear is the ocean, the birds, and the sound of your thumping heartbeat.

“Where are we, Buck? It’s pretty.”

He takes your hand, looking out towards the water.

“This is gonna be our house.”

Your head whips around in shock, confusion written all over your face.

“What?”

Your voice is barely above a whisper, but Bucky hears it, clear as day.

“I bought this land years ago, when I moved to town. I always knew I wanted to build a place of my own, but I could never get the plans off the ground. Something didn’t feel right. And then our Tethering happened…”

He squeezes your hand tightly, pulling you into his side.

“And everything fell into place. I was waiting for the right moment to show you, and it feels like you needed it today.”

You can’t speak. You’re completely lost for words, looking out at the perfect view. Turning to him, you throw your arms around his neck, burying your face in the crook of it and inhaling.

“Thank you,” you murmur into his skin. “It’s so perfect. You’re so perfect.”

“I’m so lucky,” he chuckles. “My God, you were worth the wait. I’d wait another ten lifetimes if I meant I got to love you again for one of them.”

You’re glad he’s holding onto you, or you’re convinced your legs would give out. You lean up to press a kiss to his lips, savouring the spearmint on his tongue.

“I love you,” you pray into his mouth. “I love you so much I can barely breathe.”

He kisses you back, harder, determined to show you exactly how he feels about you. Your fingers tangle into his hair, making him groan as you tug. His hands slide down to your ass, gripping harshly as he pulls you into his front. He wants every inch of you pressed together.

When you pull away, he rests his forehead against yours.

“You can have anything you want, you know.”

“Hmm?”

“With the house. I know we talked about it that night, at dinner in California. But if you think of anything else you’d like, all you gotta do is tell me.”

“One storey or two?”

“I was always thinking two.”

“Then I’d like a balcony, on the master bedroom. I love mine back at my apartment, especially in the summer.”

“Done,” he confirms, pecking your lips again.

“And a porch,” you whisper. “That we can sit on and watch the waves, when we’re old and grey.”

“I’ll be grey a lot sooner than you,” he jokes.

“You’re a lot more relaxed than me,” you laugh. “So I doubt that, actually.”

You rest your head on his warm chest, both of you swaying to the song of the ocean.

“We’ve got plenty of time, Buck.”

“All the time in the world, honey girl.”

The two of you stay wrapped in each other for a little while longer, enjoying the company of the one person you were destined for.

You can’t remember why you were ever so against soulmates. Loving Bucky is the easiest thing you’ve ever done.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The two of you spend the rest of the afternoon curled up on the balcony, letting the sun warm you from the outside in.

“Pineapple will always remind me of those margaritas,” Bucky smiles, throwing a piece into his mouth. “Our first date.”

“And last, apparently,” you laugh. “We haven’t been on one since.”

“I mean, we sort of date everyday, right?”

“Yeah, I guess we do. After we’ve told my parents, we don’t have to worry anymore. We can go out whenever we want, whenever we want.”

“Exactly,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss you tenderly. “Not long now.”

The sound of your phone ringing startles you both, your hand flying out to find it in the cushions of the loveseat.

“Hello?”

“Oh, thank God. I half thought you were dead.”

“Not dead, Lacie. Just busy.”

She laughs, and you realise suddenly how much you’ve missed that sound.

“You’re back in town, right?”

“Yeah, just for a few more days. Then I’m gonna go back to Cali and pack up my stuff for good.”

“Perfect! Me and you are doing dinner tomorrow night. I want you to meet Cameron.”

“Really? Finally! I’m so excited, Lace. Your place, or are we going out?”

“Come to mine. Cam is the best cook, seriously. I’ve gotta run, we’re picking out a couch today. A couch, babe! Can you believe it?”

“Happy couch shopping, you two,” you laugh. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.”

“Love you, bestie! Bye!”

You can’t help but smile when you hang up the phone.

“She’s gonna love having you back home again, isn’t she?”

“Oh, yeah. I can’t wait to see her more. I know she’s been so busy with her soulmate and me with work and with you, but I miss her like crazy. We text all the time, but it isn’t the same.”

“She knows about us, right?”

“Yeah,” you giggle. “She was the first person I told.”

“Thought so,” he laughs, pulling you back into his side. “Knew you wouldn’t be able to keep it from her for long.”

“She can practically read my mind. It was easier to avoid the truth over the phone, but the minute I saw her in person, I crumbled. She gives me this look, and I’m done for.”

Bucky chuckles fondly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I can’t wait to get to know her properly.”

“Oh, she’s gonna love you.”

“I hope so.”

“She will, trust me. She used to talk about how hot you were all the time. Pre-Cameron, of course.”

“I’m glad you’re finally getting to meet him.”

“Me too. I feel guilty, you know. It was the biggest moment of her life, and all of a sudden I’m up and leaving across the country, barely keeping in touch through scattered text messages. I was so wrapped up in you and in work, that I wasn’t there for her like I should have been.”

“I’m sure she’ll understand if you say this to her, honey baby. You have to remember that her Tethering was a lot less complicated than ours. They just got on with things, as easy as can be.”

“I guess you’re right,” you murmur into his chest. “I’ll tell her all of this when I see her tomorrow.”

He wraps both arms around you, pulling you impossibly closer. You relax instantly, the warmth of his skin and familiarity of his touch soothing you like melted honey.

Your phone rings again.

“I bet it’s Lacie moving the plans around,” you chuckle. “She always underestimates how long it takes her to get everything ready.”

You find your phone from under the cushion and answer it.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“Mama?”

“Where are you?”

The sun disappears behind a cloud, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I’m at home.”

“I need you to go and get Bucky, and come to the hospital.”

Your heart stops in your chest, and Bucky has to breathe for the both of you.

“Why?” you ask, barely above a whisper.

“I’ll explain when you get here, but it’s more serious than we thought.”

She sounds scared, which in turn terrifies you. She’s the bravest person you know, your Mom. If she’s afraid, you know it’s bad.

“Okay,” you choke out. “I’m leaving right now. I, uh, I’ll get Bucky, and - do you need anything? Does Dad? I can bring whatever… whatever you need, what do you need?”

“Nothing, baby girl. Just you guys, for now, okay?”

“Okay. Yeah, okay. I, uh, I- I- I’ll leave right now. Where is he?”

“Follow the signs for Cardiology when you get here. Room 4.”

“He’s in a room? In a bed? Mama, please. What’s happening?”

You’ve never heard your voice sound so weak. You’re kicking yourself internally - you have to be strong for her. You need to be.

“Baby, just get here as soon as you can, okay? Get Bucky to drive. I love you.”

“I love you too. So much.”

You try to hang up the phone, but your hands are shaking so much that you’re unable to press the red button. Bucky does it for you, intertwining your fingers with his.

He pulls you to your feet, smoothing your hair back from your face.

“It’s all going to be okay, honey. Put your shoes on and grab your purse. I’ll get my keys.”

He kisses your forehead gently, letting his lips linger for a second before pulling you inside and shutting the balcony door.

He doesn’t let go of your hand the entire time, even as you drive to the hospital.

You feel like you’re drowning. Repeatedly slipping beneath the surface of the water, lungs heaving, desperate to stay afloat.

Bucky feels it, too. All he can do is hold your hand and hope for the best.

All he can do is hold your hand and hope for the best.

tag list part one

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berryhobii · 3 months

Text

Namjoon as your werewolf boyfriend….

* Follows you around EVERYWHERE

* To the bedroom, to the kitchen, to check the mail

* Even to the bathroom (he’ll just wait outside for you)

* Hovers around you while you cook

* Always eager to taste anything and everything

* He’ll sometimes try dipping a spoon into something when you’re not looking

* “Hey! No!”

* Then here comes the pout and the teary eyes

* And because you are oh so very weak to him, you’d relent and let him taste

* Then he’s happy again and you fall a little more in love with him

* He’s practically a big lap dog in both his human and wolf forms

* When you’re relaxing on the couch or in bed, he’ll come and plop himself right on your lap

* When he’s in his human form, you don’t mind it as much

* But his wolf form is 10 times larger and furry

* You always insisted on getting a bigger couch but he’d just say

* “But this is our first couch together. It has sentimental value.”

* Him and his big heart

* Ugh you loved and hated it

* The ash colored wolf would stalk from somewhere, following your scent to the living room

* You’d be watching television or playing a game on your phone when suddenly your vision would be blocked by a mass of fur

* He’d be careful of his nails to not hurt you, climbing onto the too small couch for some cuddles

* “Oof. Namjoooooon. You’re heavy.”

* He’d just huff as if saying “don’t fat shame me”

* Knowing there was no moving him once he was comfortable, you just had to accept your fate

* Sighing, you’d lean your head on his back, focusing back on your phone or the television

* Eventually you’d mindlessly start petting him, running your fingers through his soft fur

* Something new you learned about his fur was that he doesn’t need to wash it since he gets a new coat everytime he shifts

* Crazy right?

* (Do y’all ever think about that type of stuff with werewolf au’s?)

* Anyway

* He’d relax under your ministrations, a deep and content rumble vibrating in his chest

* If you were feeling down in the dumps, he’d play fetch with you

* He sort of hated acting like a dog but seeing your happy face everytime you threw the ball made it all worthwhile

* One time you tried to convince him to dye his fur red and be Clifford for Halloween

* That was a big no

* “We could be little red riding hood and the big bad wolf.”

* “I’m not a stereotype, y/n.”

* “You’re literally watching birds right now.”

* “Bird watching is a very popular hobby!”

* “Yeah…..for dogs…”

* You did convince him to dress up but he decided to be little red riding hood

* That means you were the big bad wolf and the opportunity was too good to pass up

* “My my, little red. You look good enough to eat.”

* He froze up at the feeling of your claw like nails running up his broad shoulders

* “B-baby…”

* He turned to face you, already finding you on your knees before him

* Your golden colored contacts stared mischievously at him

* Hands gripped the edges of his loose fitting pants, pulling them down his legs

* He grunted when your warm palm enclosed around his growing shaft

* “We should really get to the party…ah.”

* Your tongue darted out to lick at his head, the saltiness of his precum sparking your taste buds

* “What’s the rush, little red?”

* When you were in public, he went from a sweet baby to an overprotective boyfriend

* Your scary dog privilege let you walk around without worry

* Sometimes if you wanted to go somewhere at night, he’d shift into his werewolf form and trail along side you

* Even other dogs would scamper out of his way and creepy men didn’t even look in your direction

* No one really knew werewolves existed so to regular people, he just looked like a huge dog

* A dog that was almost the size of the car but you digress

* In his human form, he was always holding your hand

* Moving you out of the way before someone could bump into you

* Staring down every person that got a little too close to you

* And those few times people have been rude to you, he’d let out a low warning growl

* You’d sometimes have to keep him in check with a gentle hand on his chest or a brief look that told him not to overdo it

* Werewolves were unbelievably strong in both forms, scarily so

* You’ve never seen Namjoon get truly feral but you watch a lot of nature documentaries

* So you could only imagine him if he was really angry

* Your boyfriend was also beefy as hell, compliments of his genes so you knew he could protect you

* But that didn’t mean you wanted him breaking someone’s bones and possibly going to jail

* Still, seeing him get all worked up did get you all hot and bothered

* MATING PRESS

* Your flexibility sucked when you started dating

* So in order to keep up with him, you started doing flexibility training at home

* Where at first your hamstrings would burn, now you could throw your feet behind your ears like nothing

* Sweat would drip down his body as he pounded into your puffy cunt

* Making sure you felt every single inch he had

* You wouldn’t be able to tear your eyes away from how your pussy stretched around his girthy cock

* Every thrust would make your tummy bulge, showing you just how deep he was

* He could definitely go multiple rounds

* Stamina 10/10

* He’s a definite Switch and a Pleasure Dom

* He loves taking control like his alpha instincts tell him

* But he also doesn’t mind letting you dote on him

* PRAISE KINK

* Call him a good boy and let him know how good he’s making you feel and he’s doing his best to make you feel even better

* He also loves when you ride his cock, saying sweet praises to him that made his toes curl

* “That cock’s s-so good, Joonie.”

* “I love that fat cock in my cunt.”

* “You’re gonna make me cum again.”

* “Such a good boy.”

* He’s definitely a whiny baby

* He’s most sensitive behind his ears

* Duh

* He’s a biter too

* Seeing the indents of his teeth all over your skin just did something to him

* He couldn’t mate you all the way so biting you was as close as he could get

* He plunges his entire cock into you when he’s about to cum

* He wants you to feel his cum deep in your stomach

* Yeah he had a bit of a breeding kink

* Could you blame him?

* Your cunt was always so wet and ready for him

* How could he not want to put a baby in you?

* Especially when you’d wrap your legs around his waist to keep him from pulling out

* “Fill me up. Wan’ all your cum.”

* He hated when his cum would leak out, quick to plug you back up with his fingers

* His protective nature wouldn’t even let you leave the bed

* Wrapping his arms around you and rubbing his scent all over your skin

* You’d indulge him for a moment but that sticky feeling would get uncomfortable for you very quickly

* He’d whine when you tried to get up, giving you those puppy dog eyes

* “Just a few more minutes.”

* “I want to clean your cum out of me.”

* It’s like a dagger through his heart

* “I’ll clean you.”

* “Your tongue doesn’t count, Namjoon.”

* After promises to make him his favorite meal, he’d release you

* But alas, your knees would give up on you

* Good thing your ever attentive boyfriend was there to carry you like the princess you were

* “You’re such a damsel in distress. You can’t even walk by yourself.”

* You’d huff and bite his collarbone in retaliation which would pull a moan from him

* “Hey, no biting. Bad girl.”

* “Woof.”

#bts #bts x black reader #bts smut #bts imagines #namjoon smut #bts headcanons #kim namjoon #werewolf #bts werewolf

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munsonsreputation · 1 year

Note

Hi Kai🤗 I was wondering if I can request something with Eddie? I had this idea in my mind where Eddie finds the reader (the usual quiet and shy student) crying in school alone, he approach her nicely and offer her his bandana to dry the tears, since he has no tissues with him, and they end up talking a bit to. The next day she goes to hellfire club to give him the washed bandana, thank him and maybe Eddie asks her to stay and watch them play? From that day they became closer and closer and the feelings for each others get stronger?

I'm very sorry if this is too much. You can change whatever you want about this or just don't write it if you don't like. But thanks anyway ❤️ hope you have a great day

hi francy!!!! im so so so sorry that i took so long to finish your request. i've been so busy but i hope i was able to do your request justice <3

thank you so much for your sweet comments and support...i hope you like this! i piggybacked off your ideas and inserted a bit of mine and what im going through at the moment so i hope this is alright!! 💫💘🧸

Existing shouldn’t feel this hard…but for you it was starting to become that way.

It had all caught up to you. The different personas you had built up in order to fit in whatever crowd you were floating around were slowly crumbling right before everyone’s eyes.

You started to feel this heaviness in your chest, the one that makes you feel like you’re suffocating about to die at any given moment, yet you’re just here…suffering.

High school was cruel and so were the students who didn’t care how much you tried to fit in or how you were kind to everyone, despite their own attitudes.

It wasn’t your fault, yet it always felt like that.

But you didn’t want the whole school population seeing you like this, crying because you didn’t feel like you belonged. There were bigger and more important problems in the world and here you were crying in the empty drama classroom because you felt like nobody liked you.

boo fucking hoo.

“C’mon get it t-together.” You said through straggled breaths, fanning yourself in order to dry your wet cheeks despite the constant drip from your eyes.

You should’ve opted to cry in the bathroom but anyone could walk in and see you there, so the drama room seemed to be the perfect place

“I’m on the highwaaaayyy to — oh! sorry! I didn’t know you were in here!”

Fuck.

Quickly you turned away from the door, shaking your head and letting out a string of words, “Nonono, you’re fine…sorry, I didn’t think anyone was coming in here. Just give me a sec and I’ll leave.”

“No, I’ll leave!” He attempted to defuse the situation, backing away towards the door until you turned around and shook your head with your hands wiping away at your tear stained cheeks.

“It’s fine, E-Eddie, I know you use this room for your club.” You spoke faintly, attempting to shallow out your sniffles that still broke into your words.

You reached down, going to pick up your backpack that you had dropped down, “You can stay…i’m just coming in here to skip chemistry.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stood up straight, eyeing him through your blurry vision and nodding, going over to the desk and sitting down. You didn’t bother trying to stop your crying. If anything, you let the dam of salty tears continue to flow down your cheeks as if Eddie wasn’t here watching you, unsure of what to do.

He slowly approached you, placing down his binder on the table and then rustling around the small room in search of some tissues.

“There’s gotta be some tissues in here somewhere…c’mon.” He muttered to himself, opening cabinets and drawers, sorting through a bunch of junk as you continued to cry, paying him no mind at all.

Eddie cursed to him, finding no successes to locate any tissues, not even paper towesl. And to run down to the bathroom to grab some for you would only risk him getting caught by some janitor or teacher, leaving him with another referral that would result in some type of graduation punishment.

“Uh…” Eddie said half unsurely, as he stood on the side of you.

You removed your hands from your eyes, visibly confused as to why he was standing so close to you, before you saw his fingers reach behind him and begin undoing the knot that secured the fabric to his belt loop.

“You can use this…it’s clean, by the way!” The black bandana was fitted between his two fingers, lightly blowing from the a/c unit a couple of feet away.

You smiled weakly, nodding your head as you took it, immediately patting it across your cheeks and under your eyes, “T-thanks.”

He waved it off like no big deal and gestured towards the chair next to you, silently asking if he could take a seat. When you nodded, he said nothing, just pulling out the chair and shooting you an apologetic look as the metal feet scraped against the floors, making a loud squeak.

“Do you…wanna talk about it?” Eddie proposed, immediately regretting it the second it came out of his mouth because, really, who in their right mind would want to talk about to a stranger about their problems that had them crying in the drama room of all places.

“People are so mean.” You sniffled, looking at him through your damp lashes, the tear drops clinging to the delicate hairs as it dotted your vision of him.

He sighed, nodding his head slowly and drumming his fingers against the wood, “Yeah…I get it, people are fucked up.”

“I get so tired of trying to fit in, and making real friends is so hard.”

“I could be your friend.” He shrugged nonchalantly as you turned your head, a hopeful glimmer in your eyes and your mouth moved, but not formulating any of the words you were trying to find.

“R-really?”

Eddie chuckled, nodding his head and gesturing to himself, “That is, if you want to be friends with a freak.”

You managed to crack a smile and shake your head, patting your cheeks with the thin fabric once more, “You’re not a freak, Eddie.”

“No?” Eddie raised his brows at you, and you nodded assuringly, reaching out to pat his hand that was now resting on the table.

“I would like to be your friend….would like to get to know you.” You proposed with a soft voice and he nodded, leaning over with a giddy smile upon his face.

“You’re in for a ride, cupcake.” You smiled at his inflection, nodding your head.

Now here you were, standing right outside the same drama room you were crying in just yesterday afternoon. You could hear the clamoring voices and the squeaks from the moving chairs coming from the inside.

Eddie had mentioned his club and how they would meet every day after school to play their little fantasy game…something he told you about, and even show you his binder full of ideas for campaigns. It was a bit confusing, but interesting nevertheless.

So while you and Eddie did share a few short conversations in the hallways during passing, you wanted to get to know him some more, desperate for a conversation…one that was filled with true intentions of a friend.

Your fist knocked on the door, the voices inside coming to a stop and now becoming whispers while you waited.

“Mr. Jones, I told you before we have permission to—Oh! Hey!”

Eddie immediately went into happy mode seeing your figure standing on the other side of the door. His friends slowly crowding around, whispering among themselves in order to find out why you were here.

“Hi.” You grinned, fingers twiddling with a little wave and a smile on your face.

He turned his headed back, sensing the whispers become a bit too loud. Shooting his friends a warning glare, they all turned back around, going back to setting up for today’s campaign while you stood there anxiously tapping your foot on the ground and looking around, trying not to catch their eyes.

“Sorry about them.” Eddie apologized, a small chuckle leaving his lips as you waved him off with a shake of your head.

“Don’t…I just wanted to come by and give this back to you.” You held out the black bandana, now neatly folded, as he looked down at it, “I washed it so you don’t have to worry about my tears.”

He shook his head with a grin, taking it from you and instantly unfolding it to tie it back around the belt loop of his jeans, “Thanks…do you, umm, wanna stay and watch?”

Eddie gestured back behind him, watching as the table was nearly almost set up with chairs around and his throne smack dab at the head of it.

You peeked it on your tiptoes, offering a sweet smile to his friends who watched on, “Are you sure they won’t mind?”

Eddie rolled his eyes jokingly and shook his head, “They’ll be fine…plus you’re my friend and friends introduce each other to their other friends right?”

“Right.” You smiled, nodding your head and stepping forward as he made way for you to enter the room.

He closed the door softly, clearing his throat as he stood next to you, “Guys, meet my new girlfriend…wait! I meant girl and in female….she’s my new female friend!”

You stifled your laughter while biting your tongue as Eddie cursed to himself, and even flipped off his friends, who didn’t care too much, letting out their hollering laughs.

“Nice to meet you all.” You said waving at each of them as Eddie recovered from embarrassment and his friends calmed down from their laughter.

“You too, Eddie’s girl. friend.” A curly-headed boy quipped, following suit by Eddie groaning.

“Henderson, shut up and get her a chair.”

The young boy stood up, reaching over and pulling out an extra one and place it right beside Eddie’s grand throne. Dramatically holding his arms out, he spoke, “For the King and his Queen.”

You giggled, shaking your head as Eddie turned to you and mouthed a “sorry,” while they laughed again. He rested a gentle hand on the small of your back, guiding you to your chair where you took a seat and grinned.

“I could so get used to this.”

That was the first time you had ever sat in on one of Eddie’s DnD campaigns, and certainly not the last. In fact, nowadays you were definitely his queen, which meant you that while you were only searching for a true friend, you got something way better…a lover who was your best friend

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abiiors · 9 months

Text

august

a/n: another fic set in italy? mmm, maybe the author has a type

minors dni!! mentions of alcohol, smut

wc: 4.1k

“there you are. i’ve been looking for you…”

matty’s fingers still on the rim of his glass as soon as the words fall on his ears. it’s a high-pitched voice, girly and excited. it sounds like one of his fans. and that is the last thing he needs right now.

he sits frozen in his chair, eyes firmly straight ahead, at the bartender cleaning some wine glasses with a rag. if he doesn’t turn around, maybe whoever this is will go away. they’ll get bored of his cavalierness or assume he’s drunk, high, or both. who’d want to deal with a pissy rockstar on an evening as beautiful as this one?

the owner of the voice does not go away.

“i was talking to you,” she says and he hears the tell-tale scrape of the bar stool next to him being pulled back.

the girl is definitely somewhere around his age, maybe even a good three or four years younger. she’s dressed for an italian night; a flowy dress, her hair curled in loose waves—or perhaps it’s from the salty air—blows gently with the breeze and still fans her face perfectly.

she is pretty. matty has seen prettier.

“do i know you?” he asks. sure, there’s a small rude tinge to it but he’s really not in the mood right now.

on any other day, he’d be all for sacrificing a bit of his personal space to entertain fans. fuck, he’d happily share a drink, especially on a quiet night like this when he’s alone at the bar just sipping on his rum and coke. all they ever do is ask for a photo or a quick chat. if they’re locals they ask if he likes it here. as if his answer validates the existence of an entire town.

“no,” she replies and smiles wide at him. perhaps a bit too wide.

“you said you were looking for me…” he feels dumb for even asking it since it’s such an obvious ploy. a line to chat him up at the bar.

the girl briefly glances over his shoulder and at something behind him. it’s quick, but his paranoid brain tracks the movement.

“i’m cara,” she says, “can you pretend like you know me?”

the quick shifty glance is back, it simultaneously intrigues and unsettles him. what if this girl is with some tabloids and about to make it his problem?

he can already see the headlines splashed everywhere–

matty healy with a mystery girl in italy.

has matty healy eloped with mystery girlfriend?

of course, she won’t stay the mystery girl for long if she’s here with the tabloids. she’d get her fifteen minutes of fame. he’d have to find a new hiding spot. and he can’t have this taking away this attention this close to the album release.

“what do you want?” he asks. it’s quite openly rude at this point but he doesn’t give two shits about it.

“can you pretend to know me?” she asks again. then she screws her eyes shut.

a little crease forms between her brows, the first mark of imperfection on her otherwise smooth face. when she opens her eyes again, the too-wide smile is gone.

“okay this is embarrassing…i was here on a date? he’s behind you—don’t look!” she chastises when he immediately turns around. sure enough, there’s a surly-looking older man at a table right behind him. matty turns around and raises an eyebrow in judgement.

“no, i know!” she whines as if they’re decade-long friends. “he didn’t look like that in his photos.”

“tinder works here?” because somehow that’s the most astonishing thing about all of this. for tinder to even be a thing in this tiny town, nestled—quite literally—between two rocks.

“yeah! not the point…what��s your name?”

“matty.”

“no the point, matty,” she continues without taking a second to breathe. “he keeps talking about fish and ugh, they are so slimy! but i think i’m going to fall asleep if i have to hear about italian marine life one more time!”

the indignation in her voice makes him laugh. almost. it would have, if he’d moved on from the barrage of things happening all at once.

“and then…” he tries to stir her to the crux of this conversation. because something about her face tells him she’s not done ranting about the fish.

“and then i pretended to run into an old friend, that’s you, by the way,” she points at him with one well-manicured finger, “who i hadn’t seen in years!”

finally, the girl takes a deep breath, gulping in air to make up for all the breathless rambling. “so,” she presses her hands together, almost in prayer, “can you pretend to know me?”

matty looks behind him again at the man. he’s definitely in his forties, fifties even. nowhere near in age to the girl in front of him. and he can’t see the usual signs of a tabloid reporter—his phone is not out, there’s no notepad, no shifty glances towards bushes where there might be other people hidden with a camera. this man only stares at the girl and shoots dirty looks at him.

“yeah okay,” matty turns back to her, “cara, was it?”

“yeah…” she trails off. “can i buy you a drink? as a thank you?” then she winces, “and also so we can pretend to, um, catch up?”

matty chuckles. he still doesn’t fully believe that this isn’t an elaborate scheme of some sorts (quite narcissistic of him but oh well). but the more cara speaks, the more he finds himself relaxing in her presence. it’s a…lot. but it’s a good change from the quiet two weeks he’s had.

“sure,” he says “but only if you tell me more about tinder.”

cara slides a slick black card towards the bartender, asking for a bottle of rouge. she doesn’t care about the good years for wine. the bottle in front of her is older than both of them, possibly even both of them combined. the drink in matty’s hands is almost over, only the vestiges remain with a thin wedge of lime, and she feels like it’s a good evening to drink a bottle of good vintage red.

especially when her company is as gorgeous as the man in front of her.

his face is familiar, fascinating—dark, wild curls that frame his face in an effortlessly messy manner. he’s wearing a casual linen shirt that softly settles on him as if it’s made only for him. and maybe it is; he looks the type to ‘invest in quiet luxury’. people don’t just come to remote italian towns alone unless they’re trying to escape.

“so who are you running from?” it’s meant to be a ha-ha funny joke but she can barely suppress the curiosity in her voice.

“are you always this direct with strangers?”

so he doesn’t find it as funny as she does. but cara doesn’t let herself wilt at his tone. it’s not as curt as it was before, which was fair enough. she had stepped into his private bubble on what was probably a quiet evening.

it also doesn’t slip her notice that he answers one question with another.

“mm, no,” she shrugs, lifting up her glass to clink onto his, “just the pretty ones.”

she’s not usually one to shy away from flirting but this statement surprises her as much as it does him. for one, it’s not meant to be flirty. it’s simply a fact she’s stating.

the sky is blue, tomatoes are disgusting, and matty is pretty.

“cin cin,” she lifts up her glass, before taking a swig.

matty eyes her for a moment, curiosity finally seeping into his eyes, slowly taking her in. it’s not lecherous but it’s also not not interested. she knows when men want her, she knows when they overconfidently think they can have her and she knows when they know they can have her. matty falls under the latter category.

“so who are you running from?” he echoes. matty rests his chin on his palm, looking up at her through his long eyelashes.

his wine glass lays abandoned on the counter, barely touched but cara is flattered that he finds her more interesting.

“not who,” she says, “what. i’m running away from boredom.”

her tone is conspiratorial, a whisper, and matty rolls his eyes. she doesn’t bother correcting his assumption that she’s joking. it doesn’t matter really, they always think what they want to think. she can sense their conversation dying down. maybe they will sit here awkwardly now till her date goes away, maybe she’ll have to make the dreaded small talk but matty surprises her by talking again.

“for the record, i’m not running.” he picks up the glass, swirling it lightly before taking a sip of the wine, “i’m only hiding.”

with half the bottle gone, conversation flows easier than it did in the first fifteen minutes. between sips of the rich and delicious wine, cara has managed to glean that he lives in london and he will fly to new york at the end of this month.

“a traveller,” she says appreciatively and matty clicks his tongue.

“a workaholic,” he counters. “where do you go after this?”

“new zealand, i think.”

“you…think?” he raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “a spontaneous traveller?”

it’s her turn to laugh then. “a spoiled nomad.”

that’s her usual explanation for her job. because explaining to people that she can’t stay long in one place for fear of being bored out of her mind feels too shallow, too personal. besides, why does he even need to know more? it’s not like he’s a permanent fixture in her life.

and what she really doesn’t want to say is that she’s just a silly, frivolous girl chasing one summer after the other.

“freelance pays well,” she says instead. it’s vague enough.

matty is on his second glass by now, swirling it around mindlessly while he talks to her. she can’t resist looking at his hands. long, graceful fingers, perfect for a pianist but there’s also the callouses on the pads on his fingers. nails cut short and clean but there's also the bitten-down cuticles.

“are you going to tell me that the wine tastes like…” she deepens her voice comically, putting on a posh, classy french accent, “pears, cherries and the suffering of the peasants.”

it surprises her when matty bursts out laughing. it’s not big and boisterous, it’s boyish, a giggle that just escapes out of him. cara almost wants to coo at how cute his teeth are, crooked and uneven in a charming way instead of the straight, white teeth she’s so used to seeing on people in her world.

“mm,” he runs his tongue on his bottom lip, licking up a stray drop, “the undertones of young jean-luc’s tears really come through.”

cara laughs distractedly at the joke, much more focused on the way his tongue runs on his lip. a sudden heat flares through her at the sight. how long has it been since she’s been properly fucked?

the alcohol makes her blood flow faster, freer, and the man in front of her makes electricity course through it. how cliché is it that she wants to sleep with the first gorgeous man she ran into at a bar? but cara only vaguely pays attention to the judgemental part of her brain.

she leans over, the age old cheap tactic to give guys an eyeful of her cleavage but matty keeps looking into her eyes, right at her.

“you genuinely only used me to get away from your date?” there’s a curiosity in his voice that piques her own. he sounds like he expects there to be more, like they’re not supposed to be strangers. or rather…he’s not supposed to be a stranger to her.

“are you like, some royal prince or something?” she giggles, “you’re making it sound like i should know you.”

that makes him laugh again, the same giggle from before but a bit dimmed now. “not a prince, no. it’s just before… you said you were looking for me, when you first found me.”

“oh that,” yeah she does remember that. she waves it away, “only something i said for marco, the date, to overhear.”

“still,” he counters, “you said you were ‘looking for me’. you didn’t say ‘oh, i thought it was you,’ or use some random name to cover up the fact that you didn’t actually know me. you said you were looking for me.”

she puffs out her cheek, thinking back to her words. she had indeed said that. “i guess i was… looking for someone to help me out? you didn’t, and don’t take this the wrong way, you don’t look like a local. i assumed anyway, that you would speak english. guess i was right!”

matty slaps a hand on his chest, dramatic and clutching at the soft linen shirt, the material wrinkles and moves under his fingers revealing the hint of a tattoo.

“you don’t think i look italian?”

“mmm no, too pale,” she teases, “not nearly enough wine drunk on such a pretty night. you were sulking!”

“i was not sulking,” he cries with mock indignation, leaning closer to her now.

“you were!” she matches his pitch, “brooding even, like a true byronic man. i should have guessed you were english.”

“a byronic man…” matty trails off, “that’s a first.”

they’re close now, leaning in together conspiratorially almost, one pulling the other in with their gravitational pull. cara just wants to let her instincts take over.

she places a hand on his knee, slowly inching it upward.

“we could make this a night, you know… stop you from sulking.”

if he’s shocked by her rather bold proposition, he doesn’t show it. matty watches her, warm breath cascading over her face that spreads a layer of goosebumps over her skin. her body feels hot and flush, much less the effect of the warm summer evening and alcohol.

“i…wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

his fingers trail up her arm, tracing the path of her goosebumps, the small tattoos she’s gotten all over the world—some errant lyrics in costa rica, a skyscraper in new york. matty has his own tattoos too; beautiful ones and shabby ones. numbers on the inside of his wrist and a singular word on the back of it—DAD—that looks like it was done by someone with access to a tattoo gun and a lot of weed. then there’s the one she’d seen peeking between his chest.

matty’s eyes are blown out, pupils dilating the more he looks at her.

“fuck…you’re gorgeous,” he says, watching intently as she shies away from his gaze.

“matty…” cara breathes, his name slipping out from between her parted lips seamlessly. “let’s go.”

their breaths mix with each other; heady, dizzying, and electric. cara doesn’t know if it’s the wine coursing through her body or the man in her arms, but every touch of his fingers makes her see sparks. they grip around her waist tightly, digging through the fabric of her loose dress. they dent into her soft skin and she feels held, supported against his stature.

“we have to stop kissing long enough,” matty laughs against her mouth. because here they are, lingering in midnight dark italian alleys. racy breaths echoing against ancient cobblestones as they fight to control their teenage lust.

cara nods frantically, unable to tear her hands away from him for longer than a second. his hair is as soft as she’d imagined it would be, slipping between her fingers now that she musses it up.

“you’re a nymph,” he teases when she sucks on a spot on his neck. but then his hands are back on her chin, guiding her mouth back to his. the kisses that are all urgency—teeth and tongue and lust. they make her see stars.

somehow they peel away from each other, stumbling for a few more feet, laughing breathlessly when matty pulls her against a wall again to kiss her neck, right above her collarbone in a way that makes her knees go weak.

“okay, okay,” she tries to push him away. but cara is weak and full of want. “okay,” she says again, “we go back to your room now and i’ll show you,” she nips at his jaw playfully, “i’ll show you what a nymph i can be.”

so he grips at her hand, running along the little alleys giggling to themselves and each other. this is just another hook up for cara, a one night stand with a gorgeous man she met at the bar, nothing she hasn’t done before. but she feels alive like this, young again, back when she used to sneak out of her bedroom at night to hook up with her first boyfriend, the thought that her parents might find her missing adding equal amounts of thrill and fear.

there are no parents to catch her now, no consequences for sleeping with whoever she wants to. but she misses that thrill.

matty makes her feel that thrill.

she bounces on the balls of her feet, impatient and excited while matty fumbles with the keys. the damn door wont open.

“fuck it,” he curses, pulling her into him again and kissing her already swollen lips.

sweat rolls down her back out here. she’s dying to feel the cool air of the ac on her skin. she’s dying to feel his hot mouth on her skin, his feverish kisses.

he finally manages it, to pull himself away from her, to put the right keys in the old-fashioned lock, to make the creaky door swing open. they get jammed into the narrow door, trying to get in at the same time and they burst into a fit of juvenile giggles.

someone shushes them loudly as their laughter echoes into the quiet of the night. an elderly tenant perhaps but that only intensifies the giggles.

his linen button-down is the first to go as soon as the door shuts—discarded by the door casually. it gets half caught up on the doorknob but neither of them notices, too lost in the kisses again. neither of them bothers to turn on the lights either.

cara suspects matty knows this room like the back of his hand by now. she doesn’t need to. she can trust him at least in this regard.

“matty,” she half-speaks, half-moans, “i want you. i want you right now.” it’s a needy and desperate confession and it turns him on even more.

his hands are fast and nimble, eager to remove the barrier of clothes between them. still, he takes a moment to watch the straps slide down her skin. lips parted in awe and pupils blown out wide.

cara watches him. simply because he looks beautiful.

“like what you see?” she teases and watches him swallow roughly.

it’s certainly a sight—them standing opposite each other, matty in his trousers, her in delicate lace panties that have a bow on them. no bra, because no girl on a holiday in italy should be subjected to one.

he walks backwards, eyes firmly on her body, lingering in all the places that make her feel like the sexiest woman on earth. he walks backwards till he eventually finds the bed and sits.

“come here,” he says, beckons more like. so she does—walking with a deliberate sway to his hips that his eyes train on until she’s standing right in front of him. knees touching his.

“wow,” he says, looking up at her in awe, “wow, you’re beautiful…”

cara knows she’s beautiful, she knows she won the genetic lottery from her attractive parents, it doesn’t make her vain and shallow. but hearing him say the words is still a delight. he makes it sound like he’s consumed by her beauty (even though it’s likely the bottle of red that’s hazing their thoughts), he makes her feel like his own little midnight sun. bright, unique, central to his universe.

sober cara would never think such stupid thoughts.

wine drunk cara lets him pull her onto his lap.

she kisses him again, slow and sensual this time, rolling her hips against his, grinding on the coarse material of his jeans. it’s deliberate torment, a torturous build-up so he could finally relieve the ache between her legs.

“please,” she breathes, “touch me.”

so he does, gently gripping her waist to keep her in the steady rhythm while his mouth moves down to her breasts. his tongue flicks around her nipple, drawing out a gasp and making her arch her back. she wants more, so much more.

so cara decides to take charge.

with one gentle push, matty’s on his back, and she on top. his bulge brushes against her clit, drawing out whimpers. moonlight filters in through the windows, illuminating matty’s face only just so that she can see his swollen lips—red, delicious—she can’t resist stealing another kiss.

he helps her undo his belt, fingers brushing while they fiddle with the buckle together, laughing into the kiss at their clumsiness but once the belt comes off, so do his jeans and boxers. and then matty hooks a finger in cara’s underwear to slide it down her hips and past her thighs until they’re flung in some corner of the room.

“so wet,” he moans, lowering her on his abdomen. his erection is pressed against her ass now; she’s ready and aching, eager to feel him. but some shred of common sense still remains.

“i’m not fucking you without a condom,” she giggles and watches the realisation dawn on his face.

he shifts under her, reaching for the bedside drawer. the movement makes her hiss with pleasure. all this build-up, and she can’t wait two more seconds for him to put the condom on.

cara shifts onto his thigh, grinding slightly and pumping his base with one hand until he’s done putting it on. she watches the way his eyes roll back in pleasure; if her hands have this much of an effect, what happens when…

matty’s hands are on cara’s waist, lifting her up and gently guiding down his cock, filling her in inch by inch. she splays a hand on his chest, barely registering his racing heart. all she can focus on is how good he feels; hard and stretching her out. filling her to the hilt.

“shit baby,” he hisses. his hands grip her ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh while she rolls her hips on his pelvis; uses him to get herself off essentially.

she can already feel a bruise blooming on the back of her thighs where he grips her possessively.

“fuck, you feel good,” she mumbles, already consumed by the feeling of his tip hitting him over and over, in just the right spot. matty’s hand reaches down and between then, finding her clit and rubbing it in circles until she’s screaming his name and practically soaking him with her slick.

matty moves his hips too, thrusting up, fucking into her till a continuous string of curses falls out of his mouth. his chest glistens with sweat, sticky and warm and beautiful in the moonlight. cara is lost in the pleasure but she traces the outline of a tattoo, the name of another woman. matty is not important enough to her yet to feel anything about the name. but she can appreciate the beauty of it.

the pleasure builds and builds, her thoughts swirl more and disappear entirely the more he thrusts into her. he’s figured out her pattern—the rhythm that makes her tick and drives her crazy. and even when her thighs burn and tremble, she can’t seem to slow down.

she just wants to soar up and up and up until…

matty’s hand is between her legs again, flicking her clit so roughly that it makes her cry out. and that’s what drives her over the edge.

cara moans his name, as waves upon waves of pleasure crash over her. she’s vaguely aware that she gripping onto his shoulders tightly, vaguely aware that she can feel his cock twitching inside her. maybe he’s cumming too but this isn’t about him.

gasping, cara throws her head back, letting the orgasm wash over her. the loud, filthy, wet sounds are softer now, slower in pace as they both come to a stop. no one says a word—there is no ‘oh that was so good’ or ‘let’s do that again’. there are only their breaths, out of sync and loud.

cara slumps forward, resting her warm cheek on matty’s chest, hearing his heart beating loudly in her ear. she feels…happy. probably just post sex endorphins. but she still relishes the feeling of matty’s hand threading through her hair, gently lulling her into sleep.

she doesn’t know how long they stay like that, but she has already drifted off by the time matty’s heart beat returns to normal.

i would love to know your thoughts pls <33 (this is scheduled but i am lurking like a ghost tihi)

#matty healy #the 1975 #matty healy x oc #matty healy fluff #matty healy smut #matty healy x you #matty healy x reader #matty x you #matty x reader #matty x oc #summer romance #minors dni #fluff #smut #angst #matty healy angst #being funny in a foreign language

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kittyball23 · 5 months

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Could you please do a fanfic about Bruce and Brandi? I’ve always been in love with married couples and now I’m just in love with them and no one talks about them! It’s killing me! Maybe how they met or something but it’s okay if you can’t. ☺️

Sure thing! I like this ship, too :)

Meeting You (a Trolls fanfic)

Slowly, but surely, Spruce came back into consciousness.

He hadn’t quite remembered when he had been knocked out, and was still not in the right mindset to remember exactly how, either. His head was fuzzy, throbbing with a dull but persistent aching, and his whole body felt like someone had beaten him senseless. He willed himself to move, but was unable to find the energy to do so just yet. Everything seemed heavy, his muscles burning with soreness and protesting against anything that would require him to shift his position.

Suddenly, somewhere in his mind, he had a dreadful thought. Maybe I'm… dead.

But his conscience was adamant to not believe that. He couldn't be dead! The life he'd had was a short one, barely two decades worth of existence, and it would be unthinkable that it could end so soon.

Straining to search for any sign that it wasn't true, Spruce honed in on his senses, trying to pick out anything indicative that he was not, perhaps, actually dead yet. It took a second, but soon he heard it - the sound of a voice, worried at that, and a little muffled, coming from nearby. And, as his hearing equalized back to its normal level of sharpness, he came to note that it was, in actuality, coming from right above him.

"Come on... wake up..."

He felt what seemed to be a large hand pressing down on his chest, pumping rhythmically up and down against his sternum.

"Come on," it came again, in a desperate whisper this time. The pumping continued and, with the building of pressure within him, Spruce felt a substance rise in his throat, salty and acidic, and finally a violent cough sputtered out of him. He gasped for air, hacking hard for a few moments before it finally subsided. Then, slowly, he forced open his heavy eyelids. His vision swam for a moment before focusing enough to make out the basic shapes composing a face. A tall, blurry, indistinct figure hovered over him, outlined by a stunning halo glow that, if possible, made him feel even more breathless than he already was. Hoarsely, he managed to find the ability to speak.

"Am... am I in heaven?"

A light, feminine laughter met him. "No... but I guess this place comes as a pretty close second."

This place? Spruce rubbed his eyes, blinked a few times to adjust to the harsh, bright lighting, and squinted. Now that he could see clearer, he made out the powdery white sand underneath his body, and the thick jungle-like foliage some distance behind him. Blue waves crashed at a shoreline several yards away from where he lay, in the company of whom he presumed to have been his rescuer from whatever the accident was that he'd endured. She was not a Troll, that much was clear, but what creature she was, he couldn't say he had a clue. But, even with the intriguing felt texture of her skin, stringy yarned hair, and puppet-like features that devised her characteristics, there was still something awfully alluring about her.

She was staring down at him with large, dark eyes, her expression filled with concern. "I was worried I'd have to do CPR. Are you okay?" she asked.

Suddenly, even in his withered state, Spruce felt the need to turn up the charm. "Better, now that I'm with you," he purred seductively. Or, as seductively as he could. It was difficult to sound an ounce attractive when his voice sounded like it had been put through a meat grinder. Oh well. At least his abs would fill in where his words couldn't. He turned to lay fully on his back, so that the firm, pectoral muscles were very much visible, and continued. "But just to be sure, I wouldn't mind you performing some of that mouth-to-mouth." He winked and pursed his lips, waiting to see how she'd react.

There seemed to be a sparkling look in her eyes, like one of enchantment, and Spruce believed his captivating spell to be working... until she spoke.

"Hmm. I dunno, you seem pretty fine to me."

He took it in stride. "Oh, I am fine, baby. And so are you." Spruce smiled at her, and gave another quick wink. She laughed softly, rolling her eyes at him with obvious affection, and leaned over to gently pat him on the cheek. Spruce felt his insides flutter, though he remained outwardly cool. He didn't want to appear too eager - there was a certain method to his madness, after all.

A method, it seemed, that she wasn't going to so easily be played by.

"Nice try," she whispered, getting back up on her feet and starting to head off.

Spruce was surprised to see her go so quickly. "Wait! Miss, uhh... um..." He trailed off, not actually knowing what to call her.

"Brandy," she responded.

"Miss Brandy," he repeated smoothly, wondering if her lips tasted as subtly sweet as the drink that was her namesake, "you wouldn't just leave a gorgeous, hunk of man laying in the middle of the wilderness, would you?"

Brandy paused in her steps and turned to look back at him. She tilted her head and smirked. "Maybe," she said coyly, "if he was uninjured and more than capable of walking back to town after a few minutes of rest."

Shoot, Spruce groaned inwardly. While feeling a tad bit bruised from the rough waters that had tossed him in the first place, he sported no major traumas on his body. He'd be more than capable of doing what she'd said without so much as a problem. A tad exasperated that this was not going the way he'd wanted it to, Spruce sighed. "Come on, girl, I'm trying here!"

Brandy chuckled. "Well then, I guess you'll just have to try a little bit harder then, huh?"

Spruce watched her saunter towards the trees, a small grin stretching across his features as he remained mesmerized by the slight sway her hips made with every sashaying step she took. After a few moments, she called over her shoulder.

"You're welcome for saving your life, by the way!"

And with those parting words, she slipped into the treeline, leaving him alone to stammer one meager, lovestruck reply.

"Th-thanks!"

#trolls #trolls 3 #trolls band together #spruce trolls #brandy trolls #sprandy #dreamworks #fanfiction #kittyball writes #thanks for the ask!#kittyball answers

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decaying-enigma · 1 year

Text

DP Prompt #5

In most of the art I see, Danny is mostly small, never fully grown, or just stuck being adorable for the rest of his life. Which is a completely valid interpretation, and the fan-art is always amazing to see.

But come on, we’ve already seen what Danny will eventually look like or at least resemble in the future from Dan Phantom, aka that Salty Bitch in a soup can.

While you can argue that Dan only looks like that because he fused with Plasmius, I think otherwise. When they first fused, Dan could be seen gaining some of Vlad’s ghostly features, blue skin and pointed ears, but the flaming hair was all Dan's, and he kept the body of a teenager.

Therefore, my point stands that by the time he enters his late teens, Danny will become an absolute gigantic chad of a half-ghost and I refuse to believe otherwise. I’m talking Olympic statues physique with a minimum height of 6′10, at the very least.

It’s canon that Jack Fenton is around 6'9 and Maddie is above average height, so Danny does have the genes to be tall. That’s not even counting his funky ghost genes that could potentially do just about anything.

Over this, I will fight anyone, man, woman, or small infant. I know in my heart that Giga-Chad Danny Phantom must exist somewhere.

#dp #dp prompt #danny phantom #danny fenton #absolute chad #ectoberhaunt22

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miss-tc-nova · 6 months

Text

A Small Adventure with Dad - Sora x Child!Reader

First off, hope you see this. I tried and failed to @ you.

Second, not gonna lie, I've been trying to write this since the request came in. It's been doing my head in and I rewrote it like 7 times. So I'm sorry it's not perfect, and probably not as fluffy as you hoped. And I definitely didn't do any edit/clean up, but I hope it at least entertains you a little.

Premise: The time has come to save the future

Words: 2,372

~~~~~

The salty air breezes by, the sky raining warm sunshine down on us. Gentle waves rock the world while we bustle about in keeping Black Pearl sailing ahead.

One of our men points out over the water. “Land ho!”

“Land ho!” the rest of us holler out in excitement.

It’s been a few weeks since I arrived here.

And I don’t mean “here” by The Caribbean.

The thing is, I’m not from around here. Where I come from, things are beginning to distort and fall apart. After my father and uncle vanished and my own existence began to flicker, we received a visit from a family friend who was able to point us in the direction of the event causing the chaos. It was tasked to me to fix this mess and with ample warnings not to meddle beyond what was required.

So far, the hardest part has been finding my way without a version of myself here or losing my body, yet I did. It was sheer coincidence that I happen to run into Sora, Donald, and Goofy shortly after. There was some suspicion, but it pretty much evaporated when they discovered that I had my own keyblade. It’s been a comical series of events ever since. Everyone I meet asks how they know me or if we’ve met somewhere. Alternatively, they’re exasperated at the double chaos known as me and Sora. It’s not my fault we get along so well.

I know it’ll end and probably sooner than I’d like, but until then, I’m going to thoroughly enjoy the time I have with my new friends.

I get to work adjusting the sails as we divert course towards the island, singing that silly shanty at the top of our lungs as we have the whole time.

“And really bad eggs!” Jack stumbles as the ship breeches the shore and goes tumbling over the edge.

“JACK!” The rest of us run to the edge of the vessel to check on the captain. He simply lays in the sand, coming to terms with the fact that he’s ashore.

Suddenly, there’s a little jingle. All eyes dart to Sora.

“Sora!” Donald scolds, flapping his arms frantically.

“Put it on silent!” I hiss.

Instead, he answers it. “Hello?” he whispers loudly.

“Sora, we—”

“Shhh!” It’s kind of harsh, but in the name of the world order, we have no choice but to make Ienzo keep it down.

“S-Sorry,” he says much softer.

“What’s up?” asks Sora.

“We’ve received some unusual activity in the Kingdom of Corona. Kairi, Riku, and King Mickey are already on their way, but I think it would be wise to send everyone to investigate this matter.”

“It’s that big, huh?”

I can’t help the goosebumps creeping up my spine. This might be it.

“I believe so.”

Sora looks to us for opinions.

“What about Jack?” Goofy asks.

Again, we peer over the railing to see the captain ambling off along the shore on his own.

“He’ll be fiiiine,” I reply.

“You think so?”

“Look at him? He barely knows we’re here when we’re the ones manning his ship. I’m sure he’ll have gotten himself off the island and onto his next adventure without us.”

We turn back to Sora who looks back at his GummiPhone. “We’re on our way.”

“Great. I’ll inform the others to wait for you before proceeding.”

The call ends there. One last glance is spared to the captain that still hasn’t acknowledged we haven’t joined him before we set out for the Kingdom of Corona.

My boots meet the grass. Again, the sun blesses us with its warm kiss though the breeze lacks the heavy salt of The Caribbean. There’s significantly less water about, but instead the sea is of glorious, pastel flowers soaking in the radiant light from above.

“This place is pretty,” I awe, taking in all the greenery.

“About time our wayward pirates showed up.”

Her voice captures our attention and we spot Kairi strolling closer, Riku and Mickey following after.

“Hey guys!” Sora calls.

“Do you guys have any leads on our Heartless?” I ask as we meet up.

“Nope. We were told to wait for you,” Riku says. “Ienzo says it’s likely to be a tough one.”

“Sounds fun,” I laugh.

“Fun? Really?” Riku’s not nearly as entertained as I am.

I shrug. “What? We’re investigating this whether or not we’re afraid. Might as well plan on beating it to a pulp.”

Though he scrunches his nose in disapproval, there’s the slightest hint of a smirk in his expression. “I don’t know if you’re brave or crazy.”

“Thanks! I inherited it from my father.”

Well whatever expression he had, it all goes out the window, leaving him baffled. “Wha…What?”

I wave my finger guns at him.

Quite honestly, the conversation doesn’t get much smarter than that. So we set out, keeping eyes peeled for signs of this unusual Heartless.

In spite of big words, my heart slams against my ribs, anxiety creeping into my throat. As we wander the woods, I elect to keep my mouth clamped shut. If this is what I think it is, they are not prepared for this and, quite frankly, I’m not even sure I am. But I can’t let on that I know—that would open too many lines of conversation I’m not allowed to divulge.

The ground rumbles beneath our feet. My voice catches on that lump of anxiety, but Riku’s is clear.

“Run!”

Everyone manages to dive out of the way as the earth gives way. From the dirt rises a serpentine beast with a body littered in thorns. A trio of flowers sprout from the top, each snapping their razor-sharp teeth. The largest in the middle is the only real face with wild, spiraling eyes. On the chest of this beast is the tell-tale emblem of the Heartless. This is an ancient species of serpentine monster that disappeared well before even my father’s time; I’d only ever seen it mentioned in a book. And those notes were nothing good.

With a roar, the beast attempts to bite down on anyone as it lunges at the group. This starts the wildest fight of my life. The triplet heads independently strike at lightning speeds and the thorns on its sides make it difficult to make a mark with our attacks. Even when they do land, the thick skin of the snake soaks the ones that do land. The heads aren’t even the only threat this thing has as the tail whips at us, crushing rocks when it missed.

My heart stops when I watch Sora raise his weapon to top one of the smaller heads from chomping down on him. His arms strain to hold it back, leaving him wide open for the tail to come through. I have just a split second to get out of the way the brunette is sent flying back, colliding with the cliffside at our backs.

It feels like a fist jerking on my heart and I stumble.

This is bad. I knew they would struggle, but I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do against this thing. I wasn’t prepared to face a Thorned Snake.

There’s the slightest movement at the cliff overlooking us. My eyes snap to the black coat observing the fight—that’s who summoned this monster.

I narrowly missing getting bitten into as my blade changes into a glider and takes me up to meet the Organization member. The man with pink hair doesn’t even spare me a glance.

“Stop! Stop this!” I shout, racing towards him. “Please, Lauriam!”

A brow rises in my direction. “And just who are you?”

“Someone who knows that if you do this, you will regret it.”

I step back beneath his imposing figure. In a whirl of petals, he now wields his signature scythe. “Threatening me, are you?”

“No!” I can’t raise a weapon to this man. I know him—I know the importance of the part he’s meant to play. “Please, just don’t do this!”

“You have one last chance to run.”

“Lauriam, please.” His second hand meets the staff and I cower beneath its rising blade. “I’ll give you a clue about what you’re looking for!”

His body freezes, mid swing, and he turns on me with the look of a man gone feral. “What did you just say?”

I barely have time to brace myself, yet I wasn’t really prepared to be hung midair by my neck.

Voice deep, violent, desperate, he demands more. “Tell me what you know.”

Unable to speak beneath the crushing force of his grip, I glance to the raging battle below. That grip tightens but I know that I have to hold out or this won’t be the end of just me.

A frustrated huff signals that I’ve won. I hit the ground, gasping for air. His snap echoes in the air, followed shortly by the ground rumbling. In the battle below, vines burst from the ground, entangling the beast. It soon forgets my allies as it struggles against the bindings. Thorns pierce its skin, eliciting a roar of pain and I almost feel bad for the thing. There was no hope against the crushing vines as the Heartless soon releases its heart and disperses in a cloud of smoke.

Immediately, Marluxia turns on me. “Now tell me. Where is it? Why am I here?”

Collecting my composure, I rise to my feet. “You need to look into the Realm of Fiction.”

He’s barely restraining himself in his frustration. “What does that mean?”

“That’s all I can tell you.”

“And why should I trust you? What’s stopping me from choking the life out of you right now?”

Suddenly it occurs to me—the reason she was the one to visit and set me on this path. Reaching into my jacket, I pull the fabric she asked me to keep with me. In my outstretched hand I offer up the vermillion ribbon. All that animosity washes off him, replaced by weary heartache. Almost reverently, he accepts my gift.

“Where did you get this?” he murmurs, not quite understanding his own reaction.

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

His green eyes scan me over once again. “You’re not from here, are you.”

I shrug with a meek smile.

“You know I can’t back down from this war, right? I will defeat them when the time comes.”

“You do what you need to do,” I say. My feet carry me towards the edge of the cliff. “May your heart be your guiding key.”

What I said stuns him. “What did you—?!”

Marluxia’s question can’t be answered now. I take that last step off the edge landing on the glider that carries me down to the waiting warriors of light below. I can’t fight the smile on my face, having succeeded in my mission, averted a crisis, and set everything back on the right path.

“You guys okay?” I ask as my feet hit the ground.

“What happened?” Kairi asks.

Riku has some idea. “What did you do?”

“I just…had a heart-to-heart.”

“With Marluxia?” Sora is full of skepticism.

“Yep.” I let the smile slip. “But don’t let that fool you. He’s still just as much of a threat as he was before. Do not take him lightly.”

“How did you do that?” Donald scratches his head.

“I can’t tell you.”

His feathers ruffle. “You and your secrets.”

Mickey isn’t quite as bothered. “We’d better report back to Ienzo and let him know that the Heartless is gone.”

Sora looks to me. “And we better get back to Jack and make sure he’s not still stranded on that island.”

I’m not quite prepared for this. My time here was always meant to be limited but getting to know these people in this time is a memory I’ll always keep close to my heart. It’s really made me come to appreciate who they are.

Still, it takes me a moment to get the words out. “Actually, I think it’s time for me to go.”

Surprise crosses all their face.

“Huh? Where to?” asks Sora.

“Home.” A laugh escapes me. “My dad is probably waiting for me to tell him all about this.”

A hand passes through his hair as he considers the non-existent options. “You’re from Destiny Islands right? We could probably make a pitstop there if you wanna see him.”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that.” From my pocket, I produce a star-shaped gem.

Mickey immediately recognizes the item. “That’s a star shard!”

“Yep. There’s a detour I gotta make if I want to actually get home.”

“So when are you coming back?” I knew that question would pop up, but I don’t know if it’s more or less painful that it’s Sora who asks.

“It’s gonna be a long time,” I answer honestly. “You’ll probably have forgotten me by the time we meet again and you may not recognize me.” I offer a hand in the face of his confusion. “But we will meet again. Trust me.”

The parting sadness in his eyes brightens, a small hint of happiness coming through.

“Alright.”

Sora takes my hand and I pull him into my arms. With a hearty pat, I step away from him and bid the rest goodbye in turn. The star shard in my hand begins to glow as I send it the thoughts of my destination. Memories of my time here swell in my heart. Muscles in my cheeks hurt from all the smiles, but I don’t even care.

“See you guys.” The next words slip from my mouth before I can even think about it. “Bye dad, I love you.”

Oh I messed up. It feels like the everything stops and I wait for the worlds to end.

Instead, Riku points at me with accusation. “I KNEW IT!”

Sora, himself, is confused out of his mind. “Wait, what?!”

Kairi puts a hand on his shoulder. “Sora, that’s your—"

“WELL!” I interrupt loudly. “I’ve overstayed my welcome and Wilbur’s parents are gonna kill him if I don’t get his ship back! Bye!”

Before the star shard takes me away, I hear Sora’s voice.

“Bye, I love you too!”

#novas requests #sora #kh sora #sora x reader

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cozymochi · 7 months

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🌻 >:)

IM FOUND ONE OF THESE MEMES IN MY DRAFts! Im gonna rank my experiences in the major fandoms i’ve engaged with.

🩵 YUGIOH! - Second longest running fascination. Upside!! Made life long friends. DOWNSIDE!! Was my first go at online engagement and in those 10 years so much happened that I still can’t help but feel a little sour. …Though ygo back in the day wasn’t good at tag comments, so I didn’t even know those were a thing for years until I branched out. 5/10. But grows to a 7/10 because i’ve settled into a niche area with so few people that it’s now a silly little club. 💕

🧡 Dragon Ball/Z - GENUINE CHAOS. Started off slow but intensified hard cuz get who got involved while Super was airing??? (I didn’t watch it lol), so the discourse and fighting was at an all time high. I have no idea how I even survived this in retrospect. My slight association with people netted me troll asks and my liking of Yamcha also set me up for those. …and frequent art reposting, and quite a few bizarre interactions. Pretty sure my art and edits have circulated more in latin america than I even know. This was also pre-tumblr purge so the amount of nsfw that got thrown my way is… something. That said!! Made also really good friends 💕 and DB/Z probably desensitized me to longer form discussions. 5/10 for insanity, but 8/10 for good reception and VERY PEAK and generous humans.

I think dbz hardened me.

💚 Invader Zim- started off fun (mostly irl with my friendo from days of YGO), but quickly devolved into territory that tested my patience. WHY ON EARTH THIS SERIES’ CONSUMERS had such a huge morality high ground base is beyond me. It’s this fandoms fault I learned about certain modern day online discourse terms and what instilled an irrational posting fear for a year lol. Fun at first and there’s super creative and receptive folk (then those people got kicked out) and left the most insufferable beings imaginable. There’s no in between. Shoutout to all 3 friends made who are still peak. 3/10, if I ever finish any remaining projects or decide to bite the bullet and show completed work, i’m not engaging again. The base just skews somewhere I can’t handle. Which is crazy given the ABOVE contenders have, on paper, done so much more.

dbz hardened me but iz weakened me. Which is probably why i need the formers bootcamp back. Don’t think I’m as fearful now, but i’ll still be salty.

💜 Twisted Wonderland - this is a work in progress experience. Will require further evaluation if all of the above experiences haven’t set my standards. Will stay in my corner. So far it’s 6/10 in vibes (they’re much calmer than the last one), tho I question how much of the interest is from what i do vs. what I did for others. Haven’t shared a ton of opinions yet and god knows lol we don’t want that /s. Still recovering from the former making me wanna just not do much. Baby steps I suppose.

💙 - Sonic The Hedgehog: This is a cheat, I have never interacted with the fandom directly (purely by happenstance, so thankfully no traces exist), but I have been into this since I was a child with no issues. So by default this is the best one. 10/10, didn’t engage, but I do lurk. Though all the stuff I see on tweeter isn’t exactly anything out of the norm for fandoms in general to do, so it weirds me out that people rag on this one for just kinda talking amongst themselves about innocuous things.

“omg this fandom is arguing over QUILL length ughhh can they never be pleased [30 yt videos about this drop]” ngl, this just feels like par for the course junk fandoms do. It really feels no different from DBZ where people go ham about the art style changes and which one is better. Or stupid shit in IZ where they fight about comics vs movie vs show. Like??? The only major difference here is that StH has more people in it (by the millions).

So literally nothing these folk do or say strikes me as anything more serious than what other fandoms already do??? Its just more outsiders see it then churn out content and perpetuate something worse from what’s honestly….pretty tame stuff. Maybe it’s just twitter’s setup given that’s all folk talk about.

#cozy texts #weirdly enough twst kinda involves things i always liked and went nuts for-#snuggles right in.#Side note: ever think about how the only visibility folk have is when u actively post #so when u dont people will just assume any other feelings dont exist?#no??? okay. but just keep that in mind lol #probably 70% of my experiences are behind closed doors

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ashwithapen · 9 months

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poem #8

(this one is a long one and comes with a list of TWs, so the actual poem is below the cut. this one is also a lot more prose-poetry/slam poetry-esque than my other stuff :thumbsup:)

TW for school shootings, trans genocide/transphobia, abortion (mentioned), police brutality (mentioned), suicide (mentioned).

the thing about TikTok written 4 april 2023

y’know, i only opened this app because i saw a clip somewhere of one of my favourite bands. the singer made a joke in Scotland last night, and surely someone had to have posted a better-quality video on TikTok.

it was the first thing i saw when the app loaded, because they just know me so well. i watched it and saved it so that i can watch it again as a distraction or something later. but then i made the mistake of scrolling.

the next thing i saw was a 5-minute video about how people my age and younger were screaming for their lives just across the pond outside of government buildings. they are desperate not to be killed in their classrooms, desperate to live through this semester, desperate to be heard, but the suit-wearing rulers shuffled through their 1000-person sea, one foot at a time like it was dark and they couldn’t see the people my age and younger lining the walls, holding their signs, screaming for change. i watch it, and i have to keep scrolling.

some video about all the shit you can buy for just 8 USD from a gas station in Japan. i don’t watch the whole thing; i keep scrolling.

someone with a cool haircut is sitting on the floor of their bedroom, crying. the sound playing is saying something from a show i haven’t watched about a storybook fox who is sick and tired of living in a hole. they are crying, the tags say that they are trans, and they are crying. their bio says they are just 14, that’s three whole years younger than i am and something in me surges because that is my sibling whose name i don’t know and that i may never get to because the threat of genocide has them, 14, crying on their bedroom floor. not tonight, i think in silence. i do not want to cry tonight. and so i keep scrolling.

and the next video is an indie artist who didn’t exist a year and a half ago, but even so, their new single that when viral drops in a few nights so i follow their page and i hold my breath: should i scroll again? i do, i don’t learn.

and there’s a joke i don’t get with the loudest fucking noise i’ve ever heard. it makes no sense, i scroll again.

oh look, a 9-year-old girl who got shot when she went back to pull the fire alarm so her classmates would know to run. run. run. her face is the centrepiece, her smile from an earlier date something i need to learn to shake off by tonight. i can’t even imagine what being her might have been like. i scroll again.

a cover of a song, sung atop guitar chords; another joke that the comments don’t explain to me either; another reminder of the imposing genocide; abortion bans are being enforced; they’re using force against unarmed protesters again; a poem spoken to me by a person named Lee; more tour clips to distract me; some statistics about teen suicide rates rising in the States; and one of those checkpoints that tells you that it’s time for a break. stand up, stretch, get some water. the song playing low in the background is one i’ve heard maybe a hundred times by now, but i do as i’m instructed, and i take a deep breath.

my curtains are open and i can see through my window. i remember the song i started writing the other day about how people like me seldom live long enough to see their hair turn grey. i remember how i couldn’t finish it off because something salty and wet rubbed the ink off my page and i closed my book and i pretended that i wasn’t upset, like how, in an hour from now, when dinner is served hot in front of me and they ask me “how has your day been?” i will pretend my phone is not heavy in my pocket and that the kids' shouting isn’t plaguing me and that trans people aren’t losing their right to exist and be free and that a girl half my age wasn’t shot because she got unlucky one day.

and i regret opening TikTok every time that i do because i always fail to miss all those kids i heard dance on here. instead, i get singers on stages and artists who speak and kids who know how to barricade doors with desks and bookshelves and how to defend themselves with their trendy metal water bottles, and news about the latest legislation passed that ensures that more kids will be forcefully born into a cyclical mess where they don’t get to grow up without routine checks as to whether they can tell apart a juice box pop and a gunshot.

and there are not enough words to tell you all the things i have heard scrolling through TikTok, where the mothers are gentle with their children until they go to sleep, because then they take off their soft tones and don their broken voices, screaming out in hopes that their kids won’t have to.

it has to be a phenomenon: the ability you need to grow by my age if you want to use an app as unsuspecting as the sound of a clock, TikTok. if you cannot master empathy and apathy and the way in which you must be able to switch between one and the other at the littlest flick of your wrist because what’s funny one minute must always precede the latest tragedy, death giving way to a joke and a smirk from a pretty girl in a skirt whose page a month ago was all about ways you can help in Ukraine, but clearly, she has become a master of this miracle.

and at the end of it all, when it has been hours of hearing about Neo-nazis and the generalised patriarchy and the right or wrong ways to raise bread yeast, i think three things:

one: a simmering roll of “wow”. both my empathy and apathy have been expended, and now, i have nothing left to give.

two: i am never coming back here again, like a hotel where they promise a rest, a break, a chance to get away from your day-to-day stress. one star.

three: oh look, my band said something funny again, and god, i could use a distraction.

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coffee-in-veins · 2 years

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i’ve been thinking...

RedHook gives us two characters who always start together, always have the same names (so they are arguably always the same people unlike all others), same traits, similar skills, work nicely together mechanics-wise, have incredible chemistry lore-wise as foils to each other, gives us achievements for keeping them alive and well and giving them a story arc - and then expects us not to demand this dynamic in continuation.

am i the only one who sees it as weird? yeah, they wanted to distance themselves from dd1, but... it’s not the thing you can easily distance yourself from. besides, they kept the lore, the world, the characters, and the areas in some capacity. what else could they realistically expect? yeah, Dismas is dev fav and could be viewed as a self-insert but... i’d argue that Reynauld is just as iconic. and he gives Dismas half the charm he has, arguably, by giving him a nice contrast. his backstory is just as complicated. if not more, i’d argue. and with the faction of fanatics introduced, he could have had quite a few interesting barks for that whole mess, either being one himself or by reflecting on how he used to be one and looking at his former behavior as an outsider now.

sure, shipping is a thing with those two, but again, realistically, what else could be expected with such a setup? i’ve seen people ship characters who never canonically met. i’ve shipped characters who skirt the technicality of not existing in canon with characters they never met. and all of the above being canon and constant is a shippers dream. i’d argue that shipping is what the internet does. what people do, if they’re into that at all. not expecting your characters to be shipped at least to some extent is weird nowadays, imo.

i guess... i’m still salty they did my problematic crusader so dirty and would only include his helmet somewhere in the background.

frankly, that was my sole saving grace for dd2′s sour, quiet, glum Dismas, because i connected those two unrelated facts. Dismas never got his crusader, and turned out sourpuss or got him and lost him, ending up in a quiet, sour, macabre man that we see.

#darkest dungeon #writers pain #Welcome to Gaylet: shippipasta #Reymas

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enbyboiwonder · 3 months

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any combo of these for the fic writers ask? ❤️👻🏷👓😎💛💌 (also, hope you're doing well!)

I think I’m doing probably so-so (though I was doing better before this disgrace of a website reloaded the tab when I was 95% finished answering this and I had to restart from scratch—I am salty). I dunno how long it’ll last, especially since it’s not simply a periodic downswing, but oh well. I think playing Neverwinter Nights (and fantasizing about if not always writing Hero/Tomi fic) might be helping though, or at any rate, it ain’t hurting.

Send me fanfic author questions!

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

The reason it took me so long to answer this—at least, before this sorry excuse of a website decided to delete everything I’d written because apparently autosaving to drafts is a thing for every type of post except ask responses—was that I had to go back and reread all (well, almost all; some of them I’d rather like to pretend don’t exist and either A. I’m still undecided on whether to orphan or not, or B. I can’t orphan them because they’re part of a series) the fics on my account. Is it weird that my fics don’t really stick in my head that long? Even when I don’t all but block them out. Anyway, it might be…

He feels safe—god, he feels like home.

from Don’t Tell Me Where the Road Ends (MacGyver 2016, macdalton). It’s not anything fancy or eloquent or anything, but idk, I still like it.

Or maybe…

He watches with poorly concealed amusement as Chika seems to work his way through all five stages of grief and back in the span of about two seconds.

from The Shape of Soup (2.43, yunichika)

(Yeah, I had difficulty choosing, so the rest—and the rest of the questions—will be going under the cut for length vvv)

Or even…

Somewhere along the way, his admiration has turned from jealousy to want—from wanting to be him to just wanting him.

the line that birthed not to remain as just a wish (2.43, odaoki)

Or possibly, since I feel like I should have one that is imagery-type/more poetic/(would it be conceited to call it eloquent?)…

His whole body is alight with the fizz of cider close beneath the surface of his skin, overflowed from the cavity of his chest to spill down his limbs and climb up his throat, pooling and sparking in all the places that Mao touched him like senkou hanabi, like miniature fireworks all their own, the brightest of all where Mao's fingers are still tangled with his, and it's wonderful and overwhelming at once.

from candy-apple red (Girls Blue, kisaragi/mao)

👻 What is your wildest headcanon?

I don’t think I have any tbh? My headcanons all tend to be more the run-of-the-mill type and/or generally accepted fanon and/or stuff extrapolated from them being clearly ADHD and/or autistic. They’re small things, like Yuni liking spicy foods but being unable to handle sour stuff while Chika loves both, or Nao liking space but not particularly caring for sci-fi, even sci-fi that’s set in space. In fact, both of those I came up with while writing the fics they show up in lmao (Lemon Squash and 流星群, respectively. Though, technically, Chika liking lemons—with the sort-of implication that Yuni doesn’t—showed up in The Shape of Soup, but that was just lemons.)

🏷️ Is there a tag you like to search for when looking for fanfics to read?

I don’t think I’ve ever gone into a content tag outside of when I was trying to see how to do something while attempting to write smut. It’s never really worked out. Even when I think I’ve figured something out, it all flew out of my head as soon as I opened my own fic. At least I prefer writing non-smutty fics, or this would be a much bigger problem than it is lmao

No, usually what I’ll do is just go into a ship (or character) tag and filter out any tag I come across that I don’t want to read.

👓 What helps you focus when you write?

Music, though that’s also just a general thing. Typically I’ll just listen to whatever I’m already listening to (which for the past few years has mostly been the 2.43 OST), but if I’ve got a specific song or set of songs in mind for a fic, I’ll generally listen to that instead. Sometimes when I’m rewriting a canon scene or writing something that includes one, I’ll just leave the show playing in the background once I’m done with it. (That’s actually how one of my 2.43 rewatches happened lmao, though I guess it only half counts.)

Of course, sometimes my brain will focus on that instead…

Yeah, I haven’t figured out how to reliably hack my ADHD. Mostly I just hope I’ll slip into hyperfocus (and then hope I’ll manage to finish it while I am, but that only very, very rarely happens. Normally I’ll come out of my daze to find I’ve added like 1600 words and I’ve got no idea how to write the missing bits).

😎 What fics do you prefer on a scale of canon compliant to wildly original?

It depends on my mood tbh. Also how much I hate canon (though it can make for some delicious angst, depending on why I hate it). But most of my fics end up being canon compliant, or at least not canon uncompliant, so I guess when it comes to writing, it would be that? Though I do also accumulate my fair share of AUs (but then, most of those are Canon AUs of one sort or another…)

💛 What is the most impactful lesson you’ve learned about writing?

I’m not so sure I’ve learned anything, and certainly not anything impactful, except that I have zero idea how to describe emotions. That, and it’s obnoxious af when people use epithets for the POV character. I can’t believe I used to do that. It makes me what to crawl into a hole and die in shame. Like, what someone/something is referred to in the narrative is how your POV character thinks of them! Your MC can’t be “the other man”—he’s the man! Everyone else is “the other” in reference to him! (That’s probably also why I’ve gravitated more consistently toward referring to the POV character by their given name, though I’ll still use surnames sometimes—and not just when we never learned their given name.)

💌 Is there a favorite trope you like to write?

I tend to prefer writing Pre-Relationship/Feelings Realization/Getting Together/First Kiss stuff over Established Relationship stuff, but I’m not so sure any of those are tropes. Wait, what does count as a trope. Cuz I also love Fluff (particularly the sappy stuff—I’ve had several turn out way sappier than originally intended) and Angst and Hurt/Comfort about equally, but I feel like those are closer to genres than tropes…

Hmm, well, I do love Character x Their Significant Annoyance (A finds B annoying/frustrating/exasperating/baffling/etc. but is still inexplicably fond of them anyway), and I feel like a lot of the fics I’ve written are for pairings with that dynamic, so let’s just go with that, shall we?

I’m also a sucker for tropes in the Fake Dating to Real Dating/Didn’t Realize They Were Dating/Practice Kissing area, though I haven’t finished very many of those, and I also love Crossdressing (particularly sticking unfeminine men in women’s clothing and/or guys just casually wearing women’s clothes), but I haven’t finished any of those, either. Granted, some of those involve smut, which could explain it, but it’s not like all of them do. Half or less.

Plus there’s The Italicized Oh, and I love sticking those sorts of moments into my pre-relationship fics, even if there is no actual italicized “oh.” Just—the yearning. I’m an absolute sucker.

#answered #thx for the ask!#ebw.op

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menotthatkindoforc · 9 months

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Harrow the Ninth Part 5: chapter 17-22

Oh fascinating that 10,000 years of sheer memorization has given Mercymorn the power to know the entire human body. But also, would that really work? Humans actually have a great deal of variation. What happens when you get somebody with an enlarged heart or missing rib or slight mutation somewhere and don’t have time to notice? I’m probably overthinking this – the point is that she can kill people which is… great.

I have no idea what is going on with the messed-up retellings of GtN, but I do like how they feature different characters, like the Fifth and Second Houses. It gives me a chance to learn more about these people who were once only cannon fodder.

“Harrow regretted not making him take a solemn pledge of silence… but only a very obedient idiot of a cavalier would have stuck to that.” DEAD

Having an inside view into necromantic magic makes fight scenes brutal, damn.

“I had a body, and I needed a tomb.” Did Anastasia exist BEFORE the modern structure of the Ninth House? Her cavalier still has a niner name.

The weird changes to the Canaan House events are getting weirder. Ortus and Protesilaus reciting poetry back and forth at each other is so ridiculous that it basically screams fake. Even Harrow seems to be recognizing that her emotions are blunted, like she’s cut off a part of herself.

“’One cord was overpowered, two cords could defend themselves, but three were not broken by the living or the dead.’” What is THAT about?

Gideon is getting just so salty about Harrow not knowing what the pommel of a sword is called lol.

Aaauughh why is Cytherea a zombie and LIKE THAT nope nope nope nope nope NOPE. Kill her again please! Throw her out an airlock! Not cool!

#laurel reads tlt

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alienisticxo · 2 years

Text

Before the Fever - Chapter Four

{Master Chief x Reader series - TV based}

{A╱N} OKAY. bear with me guys. fight scenes are not my strong suit (which i suppose doesn't bode well for a Halo fic lol, this is╱will be more romance oriented anyways buuuuuut-) so instead of wracking my brain over the semantics of how a battle breaking out would go and delaying it any longer, i more-so just implied it! i'll probably do that if it arises again because i'm finally getting to the romance >:)

also for the life of me i could not remember if it was just mentioned as "Halo" or "The Halo," i've heard and read both and don't know which is proper, so feel free to let me know so i can fix it if its wrong lol.

Enjoy ♡

Chapter Five - The Blessed One

She’d called out for me. After all the talking she’d done, the lack of trust she displayed, the hatred she’d expressed… she still called out for me. She still held an ounce of hope that I would be able to save her from The Covenant’s grasp. Whether it was desperation to survive or not, it was enough. It was amazing, the things I could understand without being suppressed emotionally.

The HUD beeped in my ears, alerting me to my system's decline. My limbs, usually only ever nimble extensions of myself despite the heaviness of the Mjolnir, felt in-the-way, like lead under water.

Gravity Hammers. Who decided those should exist?

“Chief,” Cortana spattered in my brain, more concerned for me than I was for myself. Her voice was crystal clear in my auditory cortex. “Chief, you need to recover. Stay down, give me a moment to repair the damage without throwing you completely into stasis.”

———

I couldn’t understand the words being spewed at me, only fragments here and there of what I’d already learned. Sangheili wasn’t commonly spoken among humans, but those who swore they’d encountered them and lived to tell the tale -or at least kept their wits about them- spread what they knew on every corner they could.

Trying to sit up, my mind had escaped me again with no immediate recollection of where I was. But instead of coming-to slowly, this time I was met with a hard, cold object, knocking me back down with a heave. The hiss of sadistic laughter drifting around me that followed made my blood curdle.

My entire body radiated pain, the bruise on my shoulder a distant memory in comparison. The struggle of having to fight against the Elite that held me in his grasp made itself known via the tender beginnings of bruises that seemed to wrap around my flesh just as it’s hands did. My fingers spread against the hard floor beneath me, bracing myself as I tried to regain my bearings.

I gasped for a breath, my lungs on fire as I tasted the saltiness of blood on my lip. It throbbed from the inside out and I couldn’t quite remember just how I’d acquired that specific injury. My head was spinning. It was bad enough I’d lost consciousness earlier, but twice in an hour was a new record. My arms were weak, shaking when I tried to push myself up again at the sound of footfall coming from somewhere around me.

“Chief…” I tried to call out, my voice hoarse from yelling, still too dazed and frail to remember I was anywhere else.

I hoped he could hear me, his footsteps seemed to grow so much closer in proximity. I was saved, it was a miracle.

My cry sounded a million miles away in my own ears. Still, I tried again, an attempt to bring myself back around. “Master Chief…?”

My hand, a blueish-purplish hue now surfacing on the back of it, grabbed at my chest as I tried to catch my breath. The air felt thicker, stale. Something was off..

“You call for The Demon.. But where is he now?” A woman’s voice filled the space in perfect English, completely jarring me as I froze. “Nowhere to be found,” she continued.

She sounded young, almost sweet. There was something to her that felt different before I could even see her. Screwing my eyes shut in hopes of clearing them enough to see, or maybe waking up from whatever fever dream I might have inflicted on myself, I forced them to flutter back open slowly.

Focus, I warned myself, knowing that any information I could gather would be helpful at some point.. If I survived. I tried to peel my eyes open, hang on her every word as she spoke it.

“The Keystone has been returned to its rightful place, and you…” she began, sinking to my level, her fingers gripping my chin tightly. “Led me right to it.”

The woman finally came into focus as I looked up at her, her platinum hair short around her features. She had a peculiar look about her, but she was very much human. What was she doing on a Covenant ship? I tried to gain my bearings, brow furrowing in confusion.

I didn’t know much, if anything, about The Covenant. Up until my encounter, I hadn’t even been sure they truly existed. But there was no denying something was terribly off about the ordeal— about a human living amongst them.

Had she been kidnapped, too? My lips parted to speak…

But then I realized what she said, my features really twisting then. The.. Demon?

“The Keystone,” I spoke aloud, a piece to all of the information I was suddenly falling into connecting. That must've been what they called The Artifact...

”Where is the Keystone?” I asked.

If I could get to The Keystone, maybe The Master Chief and Cortana could find me. Surely they’d be looking for it..

“How long?” She asked me as though I hadn’t spoken at all, her face directly in front of mine as she held me still.

“I… I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I responded weakly, my chin sore.

Her grip on me tightened even further, her index finger lifting beside my face. Before I could even blink, she revealed one long, energy-clad fingernail. I didn’t need to think about it too much to know that it was a threat.

“How long have you known you can reach The Sacred Ring? Your kind may call it.. The Halo.”

She almost seemed to spit the words ‘The Halo’ as if they were venom on her tongue.

“The Halo?”

This was all news to me, but it did begin to make a little more sense. That explained the large ring in the sky that I’d seen when I’d collapsed the first time. More thrilled to know that I wasn’t crazy, and that what I saw was real, I looked to her with interest.

Her weaponized nail disappeared and I was shoved back to the floor, staying down for a moment in shock this time. I had so many questions, but it was easy to tell she was not the one to ask.

“Hirajo. Blessed One,” she spoke up then. “They call me ‘Blessed One,’ because I can bring the Keystones to life. I can lead us to The Sacred Ring for the final cleansing. The Great Journey.”

She took a good, long look at me, the space quiet, intense. Her eyes seemed to reach my soul, and then even deeper. I couldn’t tell if she was trying to figure me out, or trying not to murder me.

I wasn’t sure which was more unsettling.

“The Halo,” I repeated just above a whisper, my voice practically leaving me as I continued to piece what I could together.

The Spartan had mentioned I'd 'done something' to the Keystone. Was that what this woman meant?

“When you touched it, I felt its presence. I finally knew where it was… We are one in the same, you and I,” The Blessed One paused again. “If only you were as important to them.”

Them? It was no wonder the survivors who did touch the Covenant’s world came back as unraveled as they did.

She stood up in a swift movement, the jet black, floor-length cloak she wore sweeping around her feet. Turning back to the Elite soldiers, the same ones who’d brought me to the ship, she spoke in perfect Sangheili. Her voice was suddenly rougher and more emphatic— almost angry. The aliens bowed to her, muttering what I assumed to be their allegiances before stepping back towards me.

My heart pounded in my chest with nerves, unsure of what was to become of me. The woman took one last look at me before walking back further into the craft.

“Ghashank'o!” she feigned a cry before laughing to herself, the sound low and mocking as she disappeared from sight.

I was left alone with two Sangheili soldiers and no exit strategy. In just a few seconds, I lost all hope. There was no way The Master Chief was going to find me, no way I was going to make it out of this alive.

The Keystone was within her grasp now, and I didn’t have the capacity to retrieve it. I wasn’t sure if she needed me or if she didn’t, but I hoped for the former. At least that way, it might buy me more time for survival.

Looking up at my captors, I attempted to sit up again, holding my hands up in surrender. All I wanted was time now— time and a hopeless miracle. I silently wished that maybe somehow, the Spartan would miraculously appear. That was always how it seemed to happen in the stories I’d heard.

As they drew nearer, something sweet filled my nostrils, the scent pleasant to my senses. I immediately felt calm, but after a few seconds longer, that turned into a wretched exhaustion. A few more seconds, and all I could feel was my body slumping back against the floor, my limbs going numb from my toes and slowly traveling upwards. Damn it, I thought, my consciousness going blank and my vision clouding into a starry blackness.

———

“They took The Artifact,” I rasped, stumbling to my feet as quickly as possible, uncaring of the blow I took.

“They also took {Y/N},” Cortana reminded, as though I could forget. “Please don’t move too much, I’m still working on you,” she almost scolded.

{Y/N}‘s voice calling out to me for help played over and over in my mind. I tried to push it aside, not think about it too much. Having Cortana know every little thing that ran through my thoughts was going to become a detriment.

“I need to get it back. Halsey needs it,” I focused on the true task at hand: getting back to the mission.

My head spun when I was finally grounded, both feet planted firmly. A heavy sigh left my chest without noticing it. The new A.I. Halsey implanted within my brain was not something I needed— nor did I want it. She revealed herself at all the wrong moments, and she only seemed to be more in the way than of any kind of assistance. I wanted her out. Gone.

But I realized I needed her now— more than just because I was in need of direction around The Rubble; more than chasing a petty thief through an alleyway.

“Cortana,” I finally capitulated to Halsey’s little experiment, eyes closing briefly as I geared myself up for my next statement. Disbelief in myself was a good way to put it.

“Yes?” She responded.

“I’m going to need your help,” I admitted after a few seconds had passed.

“I’ve got you covered, Chief,” she assured me, happy to help despite my having been less than kind to her up to this point.

———

The ring in the sky was beautiful, the sun’s rays refracting like diamonds across the grass, vast and full of tiny white flowers. Everything was hazy as I tried to peer across the land, awash with tranquility as I had been previously.

I looked around this time, having more time to examine the place than before; all the time in the world, it seemed. But when I finally turned around, I saw him— The Spartan. He was staring at me from just feet away, and my heart leapt with joy.

I suddenly didn’t care about his position in the galaxy. I didn’t mind where he stood with the military; it didn’t matter that he was humanity’s ‘greatest weapon.’ It didn’t matter that he was still very much a stranger to me and I to him.

“Master Chief,” I cried out with relief, but my voice sounded like a distant echo. I began to close the space between us, stepping closer toward him. “You saved me! We’re on The Halo!“

Though there was a name to the place now, I was still unsure of what that meant. It was even worse that I just spoke the words with little to no understanding. It didn’t feel like something I would just blurt out..

But I watched him anyway, his hefty armor seeming cleaner than it had been when he found me in the asteroid I’d escaped to, almost in pristine condition in comparison. I hoped he’d say something, speak more to me this time. Maybe even explain to me what ‘The Halo’ was, or how we’d reached it.

He didn’t say a word, and I remembered what Cortana had told me before— he wasn’t a man of many. Keeping that in mind, it didn’t upset me, I was far from bothered. If I was honest, I felt patience with the idea, understanding of the man he was. The silence between us was almost comforting.

The Spartan reached up to lift his helmet from his head then, a faint pressurizing noise just audible enough for me to pick up on it. I couldn’t help the sigh that escaped my chest at the sight of him revealing his face to me once more.

I found myself drinking him in, noticing his faintly tanned skin in the sunlight, the stubble that lined his cheeks more noticeable. It was such a drastic change from the atmosphere I’d seen him in earlier, from what I was seeing to how I was feeling. But it seemed as though the plight I’d been through was finally over, and for that I couldn’t have been more grateful.

It was a true, unwavering sensation that crept up again, that nothing else mattered. It didn’t matter where we were, that his allegiance remained with the UNSC, or that I hated all they stood for. As long as we were alive, safe.

I felt safe.

Why did I feel safe?

Why did I care that both of us found ourselves that way?

“{Y/N},” he spoke aloud then, his voice sounding farther from me than I expected from the short distance he stood. “We have to get out of here.”

My expression twisted with confusion as his hands reached out for me, grabbing my shoulders with a firmness. I could feel the warmth of his palms over the fabric or my top, the grip he held me with. I tried to speak, but my voice seemed to escape me. Why should we leave, I wanted to ask. We’re safe here, I wanted to say. Everything suddenly felt slow as molasses.

“Wake up,” he said again.

That time felt surreal. With a jolt I was ripped from what I realized all too quickly was painstakingly, only a dream.

Trying to allow my mind to catch up with my vision, I stayed still, my breathing erratic. My eyes darted over my surroundings as I found myself pressed against The Master Chief’s chest in a bridal style carry. With a quick, deep inhale, I stirred in slight panic. I didn’t want to believe that I wasn’t actually safe; that this nightmare I was living truly was my current reality.

“What happened? Where are we?” I finally asked, my words slurring as I felt him hold me tighter to keep me from falling out of his arms.

I tried to stay still despite my initial reaction. It wasn’t hard with the way I was beginning to feel as my body caught up with me. Dead weight seemed to be the only thing I could offer.

“Eridanus II,” he rasped, his heavy footsteps thundering from underneath us. “The Covenant came looking for The Artifact’s counterpart. It’s been a battle, but not one Silver Team couldn’t handle.”

Counterpart? What had I missed?

“Chief, orders?” I heard another woman’s voice carry from behind us, more heavy footfall sounding in my ears as my focus shifted.

“Back into the ship. We’re heading for Reach.”

“Copy,” she spoke again, her voice sounding the same as his through the helmets they wore.

She walked ahead of him with two others as she held up a hand to motion them forward with her. “Let’s go.”

I was too exhausted to begin to figure out how they’d gotten there or who they were— from the very brief look and sound of it, they were other Spartans, clad in the same heavy armor. The one who walked ahead first had what looked like a sniper rifle slung over her back. Intimidating was an understatement.

After a few more seconds, I quickly, and a little painfully, noticed he was carrying me out of the ship I’d been captive on. My eyes immediately squeezed shut for a few seconds, adjusting to the sudden change of extreme brightness from the darkness I’d been sitting in. I’d lost track of time, and I knew then I’d been knocked out somehow. Had it been hours? Months? I wasn’t sure.

Grogginess had a hold on me now, as though I’d been drugged for decades and finally awakened from a deep, and up until what seemed like a few moments ago, dreamless slumber. But there was a hint of relief in my blood, and all I could begin to say was:

“…You came for me..”

I could’ve guessed I was not the sole reason The Master Chief was on Eridanus even if he hadn’t confirmed it, but I was feeling sentimentally thankful all the same. Perhaps it was whatever they’d used to keep me asleep that made me express my gratitude the way I did, or maybe the dream I had that softened me up to his presence just a bit. Still, he and his Spartans had been fighting around The Artifact, and I must've just been a bonus to find kept away in The Covenant ship that seemed so eerily empty as we exited it.

At the end of it all, he could’ve left me to die.

He didn’t.

“We’ve been looking for you,” he finally expressed.

So many questions again.. I didn't have the strength to ask them at the moment. Wincing as I noticed the carnage that littered the ground outside, I decided to offer up what I knew. Maybe somehow, it would help.

“They call you Ghashank'o,” I noted, half amused under my strange stupor.

“I’ve heard that one,” he responded under his breath, and I could almost see the eye roll.

“And the human girl..” I murmured absently, my mind slipping again. “She spoke Sangheili, she called herself, and me, a… Blessed One.”

He stopped for just a beat before carrying on. “Girl? Blessed One?”

His voice was still faintly muffled behind the confines of the helmet, coming through what I assumed was some kind of speaker. But the roughness, a hint of his own exhaustion, was apparent. My eyes fell shut again no matter how hard I tried to pry them open to get a better look at the titanium encased man who held me.

From what I could see in the light, he wasn’t far off from the vision in my dream at all. In fact, it was as though he were truly right in front of me. I’d seemed to commit the armor to memory all too well, shiny and new— unlike the damage it had clearly taken now.

If he took his helmet off again… A chill ran up my spine, goosebumps rising on my flesh. I hoped he didn’t notice.

“Because I can get us to The Halo….” I whispered faintly as I drifted back into blackness.

#master chief x reader #halo fanfiction #halo the series #Pablo Schreiber x reader #Pablo Schreiber #Pablo Schreiber fanfic #halo tv #halo fanfic #master chief #Cortana #halo paramount+#halo paramount #halo series #fanfic #fanfiction #john 117 #halo fandom #master chief fanfiction #master chief fanfic

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halfyourheart · 2 years

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Hej, I'm really bad at finding fanfics that I actually enjoy. So I was wondering if you knew any 5sos fanfics where it's just cute stuff. Like just two people obsessed with each other. Some kissing and fluff maybe :)) Sorry if this is too random, but it was worth a try

hi hi hi anon! 💗

Sorry for the freaking late response, life has been busy 🥲

This might be stuff that you’ve already read, so I apologise in advance but onto the fluff (in no particular order)!

(I assumed since you requested some kissing and fluff that we were aiming for a general and/or teen rating - lemme know if that’s wrong 💛)

(also didn’t know what length you were looking for - so some have a bit of plot and some are shorter one-shots 💗)

I really just went through some of my favourite fic writers and picked some personal favourite fics with your requests in mind :D (also they’re very luke centric because… yeah)(but every writer has fluff related to another pairing I’m pretty sure so check them out!)

the essentials - galacticsugar / @burstingsunrise

Pairing: Michael Clifford & Luke Hemmings

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Words: 1677

Summary: They’ve only been on tour for a couple weeks, but there’s already stray glitter littering the bottom of Luke’s black toiletry bag.

I immediately thought of this fic, because it’s one of the softest things I have ever had the pleasure of reading. It’s friendship, but that doesn’t deter from the fluff! and it never will! it’s very sweet to explore luke’s relationship with makeup, michael’s relationship with luke, and Michaels relationship with luke’s relationship with makeup!

Putting on makeup is such a personal thing. It’s a fun little ritual that makes you feel good and sharing that with another person is such a lovely thing !! like here is something I love !! and I am sharing that with you !! it’s an extension of me !! and michael actively taking part even if he’s complaining about it (I mean banter is their love language so) is just AH.

I think about this fic a lot.

crowning glory - kaleidoscopeminds / @kaleidoscopeminds

Pairing: Luke Hemmings & Calum Hood

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 1000

Summary: It’s not unusual for Luke to find somewhere to nap pre-soundcheck if they have time, curling his too-long limbs up into an impressively small croissant of Luke Hemmings, his curly head just poking out the side

Napping with someone, or in this case, one person is napping while the other is just in their presence, is just so much casual intimacy, which is my kryptonite, that it makes my head explode.

This is a routine that they’ve established !! meaning it’s repetitive and something that comforts them both !! they feel safe enough to let their guards down and just exist in each other’s space. Calum doesn’t want to talk to anyone so he just sits with sleeping luke and pets him. That is the softest shit and it makes me want to sob.

This is short and sweet and the gratuitous descriptions of luke, specifically his curls, will send me to an early grave.

stolen shirts/heart - kaleidoscopeminds / @kaleidoscopeminds

Pairing: Luke Hemmings/Calum Hood

Rating: Teen and Up Audience

Words: 6132

Summary: There's a sort of inevitability that comes with being in this band. A set of concrete circumstances that never seems to change. They annoy each other to hell, they know every last thing about each other, Calum is in love with Luke, and Luke always steals Calum's clothes.

That's the way it is. That's the way they all know it is, except maybe Luke, who might be ignorant to the third thing on the list.

Fluff, clothes sharing, and calum being obsessed with Luke, what more could you ask for?

I like the passage of time being marked by what items of clothing Luke has stolen from Calum. That’s how the calendar should be 😌 All events can be related to this !! and I will die on this hill.

sweet and salty - galacticsugar / @burstingsunrise

Pairing: Luke Hemmings/Calum Hood

Rating: Teen and Up Audience

Words: 9290

Summary: “We could get a bunch of stuff to try? See what’s good before we commit to buying anything in bulk?”

“That’s actually not bad,” Luke admits. “Go to the store, grab some things that catch our eye, try them out…” A fantastic idea is formulating in his head. An excuse to spend even more time with Calum.

“We could make a night of it? Like have a full-on sleepover? Really surround ourselves in the sorority girl vibe.” He chuckles to ensure Calum is aware this is very much a joke. But also a very serious suggestion. But also definitely a joke.

Frat boys cake buying an assortment of bath bombs, face masks, nail polish, ONESIES, etc, and doing stereotypical sleepover things in the name of science (well in the name of making a gift basket for a sorority)? Iconic.

I love you humour. I love you Luke jk unless-ing the whole time. I love you idiots in love trope. I love you frat boy!cake. I love you snapbacks (something I never thought I would ever say). I love you casual flirting that constantly confuses them because what are they!

Cake is ridiculous in this and I love it !!

I leave you with this snippet, “Has Luke’s friendship with Calum just been one long series of dates, and somewhere in there they just forgot they could be kissing?”

you wanna be closer - kaleidoscopeminds /@kaleidoscopeminds

Pairing: Luke Hemmings/Calum Hood

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Words: 5063

Summary: In hindsight, Calum probably should have seen it coming. In hindsight, he supposes he was incredibly obtuse about it. And in hindsight, he wishes he had pulled his head out of his ass earlier (thanks Michael), so he could have been doing this earlier. He’s not dwelling on hindsight though when his brain is occupied with other things, specifically the way that Luke’s mouth feels against his own lips.

Five times Luke and Calum touch platonically, and once when Calum realises maybe it was never platonic at all.

Essentially a love letter to physical affection, my beloved !! Physical affection, whether platonic or romantic, is my shit !! Hugs!! forehead kisses!! hand holding!! legs touching just to remind the person that you’re next to them!! sharing space!! just existing together !!

As a 5+1 fic the scenes are little pockets of lovely moments with physical affection!! Fluffy touches!!

The reminiscing in this fic about the progression of their relationship makes me very soft but also incredibly feral.

Off-screen - allsassnoclass / @allsassnoclass

Pairing: Luke Hemmings/Ashton Irwin

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 3038

Summary: Now that classes are being taught from home due to the pandemic, students are getting a glimpse into Professor Irwin's home life, especially when his mysterious husband keeps interrupting class.

An outsider POV about secret husbands lashton? I LOVE IT. I love an outsider POV because you get to see a pairings dynamic in a way they themselves probably don’t see. You see little subconscious things they don’t notice until pointed out! love that stuff :D Can’t get enough of people watching honestly !!

and what if you’d never smiled at me - kaleidoscopeminds / @kaleidoscopeminds

Pairing: Luke Hemmings/Calum hood

Rating: Teen and Up Audience

Words: 14910

Summary: He opens up the loaf from the cut, exposing the pale inside that was previously encased by the dark crust. He wonders if you were to split people open whether they would match their appearance; he worries that his own exterior might be a little too much like the hard crust of his sourdough. Not Luke though. He’s pretty sure people like Luke are as soft and golden on the inside as they are on the outside. x Calum's really not happy about the new bakery that's just opened up down the road from his own bakery; it's gaudy and pastel and covered in flowers and is an offence to the name of baking. At least he's got a new regular to make him feel better about it all. One with a smile that can turn a day around just like that, even on a Tuesday.

I had to include a bakery au so I just added it!! I think it fills the obsessed prompt pretty well. Pining idiots my beloved.

These are just some that I love! I didn’t want to go overboard because I feel like I’ve already done that agahsjsjsjsz

I would check out all the writers I’ve listed on AO3 because I’m sure there’s way more fluff, various ratings, pairings, etc. I’m just too focused on Luke 🧍‍♂️🥲

I hope this is kind of what you had in mind ! 💛

#Oh I also really love meg’s bakery au #Why did I only think of it now #This one and what if you'd never smiled at me !!!#By kaleidoscopeminds #It is so lovely #meg features a lot in this #Welp #I typed this on my ipad because I don’t have a laptop #So if anything doesn’t work I blame that #Anything in my life gone wrong? It’s because of the ipad #I hope this helps anon <3 #alice answers #fic recs #edit: I added the bakery au because I love it and it’s necessary #further edit: this clearly has a theme ahem #luke and cake #It is what it is

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