#ALSO SORRY TO ALL THE INCOMPLETE REQUESTS I’m still working I swear!!!!!

[pink-tk-a-latte]

How many notes for writing fic at a party

[oneforallheadcannonsandshorts]

first ofa user : where s/o has been alive for years because of her quirk and deku asks s/o how he was back in his days and s/o tells deku how kind and etc he was. [their also married]

First User of OFA X Female S/O with a long life quirk 

Key: 

[h/c] = Hair color 

[h/l] = Hair length

[h/s] = style  

[s/c] = Skin color

[e/c] = eye color 

[h] = Height 

[f/n] = First Name

MANGA SPOILDERS UNDER CUT!

Also note that if the First User’s name is released, this short shall be edited to have his name. 

Deku, being his curious self, has always wondered more about the lives of the former users. He knows a bit about Shimura Nana’s and Banjo Daigoro’s lives since the two where heroes and all so it is easy to find out more about them. He also knows a bit on the sixth user and Hikage Shinomori. Of course All Might for some reason has left the information on Hikage Shinomori incomplete for whatever reason. As for the second and third users, All Might hasn't found anything on them, but still searches. As for the First user, other than the first user being the younger brother of AFO, that’s all he really knows. Thanks to the dream he had about the first user he does have insight on what happened, how One for All came to be. But again, that’s it. There is nothing else on the first user, which Deku can’t help but think that AFO might have had a hand in the little information available. 

“Excuse me,” a voice brings Deku from his thoughts as he sits on a park bench. 

He looks to see a woman, around her mid-twenties early-thirties standing before him. She is about [h] with [h/l] [h/s] [h/c] colored hair and has the prettiest [e/c] colored eyes. 

“Is it alright if I can sit here?” She asks kindly. 

“Of course!” Izuku says moving over to give her some room. 

The woman smiles as she sits down. She pulls out a book from her purse and begins reading. Silence falls over them as Deku can’t help but steal glances at the woman beside him. He doesn't know what has come over him, however all he wants to do is stare. Thankfully the woman doesn't seem to notice his stares. 

“[f/n]...?” A voice rings in his head. 

Deku becomes a bit startled as he feels a tear slide down his cheek. What is going on?! He wipes the tear and stares at the other woman. 

“Are you okay?” The woman asks concerned. 

“I-I’m fine!” Deku says panickily making the woman chuckle. 

He notices a soft but sad smile form on the woman’s face. 

She then says, “You remind me of my husband.” 

“I-I do?” Deku asks rubbing the back of his head. 

“My husband, Shigaraki [insert the first user’s first name]. He had a love for heroes and acted fidgety when I caught him staring or something like that. I’m Shigaraki [f/n], by the way.” 

“Midoriya Izuku. Nice to meet you Mrs. Shigaraki!” Deku smiles brightly. 

[f/n] smiles trying not to cry, “S-Sorry just the more I look at you, the more I see him.” 

“D-D-Did he...?”

“Yes, he died.” [f/n] sighs. “All because he tried to do the right thing.” 

“The right thing?” 

“Standing up to a tyrant and a murder.” [f/n] says glaring at the memory. 

“Whoa, what kind of quirk did he have? Was he a hero?” Deku asks curiously.

[f/n] smiles and says, “The quirk he had is the one you now use.” 

Deku looks at [f/n] like she’s grown another head. He blinks repeatedly swearing that he can hear laughter in the back of his head. Keeping himself from shouting, not wanting to make a scene, he manages to regain his composer. 

He asks, “W-What!? A-Are you saying that...” 

“My husband was the first user of your quirk? Yes, he was.” [f/n] says. “Thanks to my quirk, “Long Life” as I call it, I have been able to watch over the successor’s of my beloved’s power. But I never dared appear before them until now. Mostly because I was afraid of getting close, but also that man knows who I am. So, I kept to myself staying in the shadows knowing that if I approached they would be in more danger since he also was after me. But now that he is in jail, at long last, I decided now would be a good time to appear.” 

“O-Oh.” Deku says then asks, “C-Can you...can you tell me what he was like?” 

“Sure. Like I said earlier he had a love for heroes, acted fidgety when he was embarrassed after getting caught looking at something, really kind and caring, he always knew what to say and do when I was feeling down or was having a bad day. He was also an amazing cook and worked hard as a chief. When I was with him, I was the happiest I had ever been. I cherished every moment of it knowing that my quirk would allow me to out live him.” 

“Does your quirk affect your aging?” Deku asks. 

“Not sure. I stopped aging following  [insert the first user’s first name]’s death. I guess the amount of stress I was under affected my quirk and it haltered my aging. Tell me, is he in there somewhere?” 

Deku nods with a smile, “He is.” 

The smile the forms across [f/n]’s face gives Deku a sense of happiness. Again tears begin falling down his face. He knows that these tears are from [insert the first user’s first name]. 

“He can’t speak right now, but these tears...they’re his. I can feel how happy he is seeing you again, how sorry and guilty he is, also how much he loves you.” Deku says with a bright smile on his face. 

Now [f/n] is crying. To hear those words from her husband’s ninth successor brings her so much joy it’s overwhelming. For a split second she sees  [insert the first user’s first name] looking right at her. 

“Little Midoriya, may I ask you a favor?” 

“Sure Mrs. Shigaraki. What is it?” 

“Take good care of [insert the first user’s first name] and the others alright?” She asks. 

“I will Mrs. Shigaraki, that’s a promise!” Deku gives her another bright smile. 

“Thank you.” [f/n] says getting up to leave. 

Deku watches her feeling the urge to go after her. He gets up and taps her arm. 

“Mr. Shigaraki would like a hug before you go.” Deku says holding out his arms for a hug. 

[f/n] nods and wraps her arms around Deku. The hug brings back a lot of memories for [f/n]. Memories of a time she desperately wants back. But at least she knows, [insert the first user’s first name] is still alive in a sense. 

Breaking the hug, [f/n] leaves the park with Deku watching her go. As [f/n] walks away she feels at peace. Like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders. 

Deku can feel that [insert the first user’s first name] is at peace now having seen his wife in who knows how many years following his death. 

“I love you, [f/n].” [insert the first user’s first name]’s voice rings in the back of his mind. 

................................................................................................................................

First request completed! Thank you Anon for this request. I hope you like it. Looking forward for more request! 

Master List

[ambidextrousarcher]

Sarcastic StarBharat reviews-Episode 23-In which Honey Boy tries to take the place of Mr. Excess Gyaandaan

It's been a loong hiatus once more, and I'm sorry for that, but well, college came up, and I'm trying to juggle a lot of things all of a sudden. Anyway. To business. 

Tagging my usual tag list: @medhasree @ambitiousandcunning @hindumyththoughts @shaonharryandpannisim @hermioneaubreymiachase @chaanv @ratnas-musings @whydoyoucareaboutmyusername @hetheymiles @allegoriesinmediasres @folkwh0res @pratigyakrishnaki @adishaktis @justahappyreindeer. 

If anyone wants to be added to/removed from my taglist, which is for all the MBH related works I write, DM! I’m also about to reboot my ASOIAF fanfictions about historical Westerosi people, do DM if you wanna know more about them too!

Without further ado, review under the cut.

This episode begins with Honey Boy giving an impassioned speech to Mr. Paragon about why he should abdicate the throne. I’m skipping over that pseudo-philosophical part because it’s seriously giving me Mr. Gyaandaan vibes. Mr. Paragon says that he’s worried about Hastina and Honey Boy can live the life of an ascetic even as and when he’s King. Honey Boy demurs. He feels that in the lap of luxury, he’d forget his sin. He asks Mr. Perfection how he’d feel when he finds out that the King who he waited 25 years for is invariably undeserving of the honour? Perfection retorts that he knows Pandu’s capability. But Honey Boy isn’t convinced. He continues that they had deprived Drama Queen of the throne because he was ‘incomplete’ but Honey Boy himself hasn’t shown completeness of mind, that he is haunted by the Maharishi’s last moments. He begs Bhishm, hands joined, to let him go live in the forest and atone for his sins. Reminder- This stuff is an extension of canon fail #55, as Pandu sets out immediately to atone. Sad title BGM begins to play, as Honey Boy takes Bhishm’s blessings and leaves. The camera switches from a sad, withdrawn Bhishm to Mr. Ominous Music, who, typically, has dice in his hands. He says that bettering one’s deeds is very important for a human being as the camera pans to encompass a pacing Drama Queen in the field. Okay, now that he’s an amazing brother, I think he’s worried for his baby brother? He snaps at Poseur to shut up. Poseur says that he’d have done the same, had he been in Pandu’s place. Note that he keeps calling Drama Queen Maharaj and Pandu as Kumar/Prince Pandu. Drama Queen replies that he’d have given Poseur permission to go, but he can’t give his brother the same permission. (I’d made a GIF of this scene long ago) because he can't think of his beloved brother living in misery. Poseur cackles and starts sarcastically praising Drama Queen, writing poetic odes to his Incorruptible Pure Pureness that he still has love for his brother who was the reason for his humiliation and shame, who plotted against him, that he hardly has a thought for the future of his unborn children. "Bhraata Shakuni!" In enters Patnidharma, with a homily of how words should be used to calm and placate people, not to instigate them to anger. Poseur marvels that his baby sister has grown so wise that she is instructing him in what is right and what is wrong. Baby sister in question demurs. Since she is a doormat, how could she dare do something as weighty as instructing? No, she says, she was making a heartfelt plea to her brother to let her family be and not poison members of her family against each other. (I firmly hold to the opinion that it would have been FAR better had she just told him to sod off.) He responds that he is not poisoning anyone. He is just making the situation clear, since she has surrendered herself to Pativrata Dharma and is blindfolded. He asks if Drama Queen doesn't want her son on the throne after Pandu, also if Pandu would be so magnanimous that he would vacate the throne for Gandhari's son. No, concludes Poseur, because had Pandu been such, he would never have plotted for the throne against his elder brother. Now, says Poseur, fate has played her game and Pandu is exiled of his own accord, who are they to question destiny? He finishes with that, asking Drama Queen to make a decision himself, leaving with a pranipaat. Patnidharma, ofc, being the perfect doormat, asks her husband to talk to Pandu and get him out of his stubborn insistence to leave for exile. Drama Queen shushes her and says that she should let him understand the situation better. Camera pans out to the tune of dramatic BGM with our last vision of the scene being a stone-faced Drama Queen. Scene switches to a crying Smarmy, the camera then panning to focus on a somber Honey Boy and Melodrama at the sides. Smarmy asks her husband the reason why vanvaas is a necessity. After all, she says, the killing was by mistake. This is, as I said before, something that canon Pandu actually says, not Madri, aka an extension of canon fail #53, at least where the killing is deemed a mistake. Since Honey Boy is far saintlier than canon Pandu, he says that the mistake is precisely the reason they need to go into exile, that he should have spared a thought before acting on Madri's request to get the deerskin. Fine, replies Smarmy. The fault is mine, why do you need to take the blame and shoulder an exile? Ms. Melodrama steps in. No, Madri, she tries to mollify her sister wife, it is no fault to ask something of your husband. Since Smarmy is a biatch here, she takes offence. Whose fault is it then, she asks. The Maharaj's? Because he tried to fulfil her wish? She understands what Melodrama wants, she says. She swears that Maharaj will not listen to her wants and needs henceforth, only listening to Kunti's. Ms. Melodrama, ever the pacifist, responds that her intentions were not what Smarmy thinks they are. Honey Boy intercedes. He tells Madri to stop distributing blame and instead accept that a wrong has been done. She says that she has accepted the same, that the wrong has been done by them, why should their unborn children bear the punishment for the same? If the children are born in the forest, she says, then they will lose the right to the throne. Ms. Melodrama counsels restraint. Why build castles in the air for those who have not been born yet? She asks. Whatever their destiny is shall come to pass. Smarmy replies that she is a royal maiden who has been taught from girlhood that her children will one day rule a Kingdom, she has the right to worry about their future. Melodrama counters that in the Kuru family, it is not right to the throne but the eligibility of the heir to the throne that matters. (Is that so? I'm not so sure. Sure, the Yayati thing did happen, but…someone more experienced is welcome to comment here.) Smarmy doesn't back off. 'Would only your sons be eligible then, and not mine?' she asks. Before Melodrama can reply, Honey Boy, voice heavy, informs the both of them that they can never have children. Melodrama asks him to elucidate the meaning of what he says. There's a flashback to the curse the dying rishi gave him, after which Honey Boy says that the reason he decided to go on exile is the curse. Melodrama says that she and Smarmy shall both accompany him. He demurs. (I get him, really, I do. Dealing with so much Melodrama and Smarmy on a daily basis? No, thanks.) But again, this whole thing is extending a canon fail, since they never come back to Hastina, instead setting out on the exile immediately. Melodrama, who is the Lady of Cheesy Lines, responds that without her husband by her side, the palace is no more than the forest, and the forest with her husband will be the palace itself. Smarmy comes to the fore. She says that she doesn't understand why the decision is taken even now, but her place too, is by her side, especially if jiji (Melodrama) is going. She avows that she came to Hastina holding his hand, and she shall go wherever he does. Melodrama nods. The offence was done by all three of us, she says, and we shall atone for it together. She asks Honey Boy to make arrangements for the journey and Smarmy to prepare for the same. Scene changes to Satyavati as Paragon of Perfection meets her on the riverbank. She is hopeless, mumbling metaphors. He remarks that she is far too desolate. She replies that she has reason to be, then brings the metaphor of a boat with a hole in it, a hole similar to one that will develop in Hastina if Pandu abdicates, leaving Hastina weaker than ever before, because this time, the people would talk, they would lose hope. Perfection responds that they will not leave the throne empty, instead instilling Drama Queen as a caretaker King who would not be able to perform Rajasuya, but will be able to take care of Kingly duties. Satyavati wonders if he will listen. Scene switches to Poseur limping into Drama Queen's chambers. He laments that he has done a great wrong by telling Perfection that Drama Queen doesn't want a throne as charity. Drama Queen, who had been doing a handstand, flips up and replies that Poseur has indeed spoken the truth because he doesn't take other people's leftovers. Well, responds Poseur, then perhaps they should call for the King of Panchal to take the Royal responsibilities of  Hastina, for although he isn't of the Bharata lineage, at least he is a Chandravanshi. What nonsense, blasts Drama Queen, going on to say that he can have Shakuni's head cut off for such treason. Poseur responds that well, someone has to become King, and it can't be Gandhari's unborn children, since their father is refusing the same. Drama Queen replies that Pandu's sons can become King, and until then, Satyavati and Perfection can take care of things. Okay, no this is defo a canon fail. Canon fail #57, because no way in hell was Drama Queen ever okay with the P's having Hastina. Poseur informs Drama Queen of the curse. As he contemplates that, the herald announces Perfection's arrival. Drama Queen claps his hands, prompting serving women with his royal jewelry to arrive. Once he is in decent state, Perfection enters, being greeted with pranipaats. (Side note: Why the hell does Shakuni call Bhishm Pitamah here? Bhishm doesn't have grandsons yet…) He makes his announcement that for the good of Hastina, Drama Queen must take up the responsibility of the King Regent. Cue dramatic title music as the episode ends. Precap: "I need a son! Find a way to get a son. Otherwise I will have to seek a son from another woman, Gandhari!" snarls Drama Queen at a crying Patnidharma. Scene switches to Honey Boy. "You have such a boon, Kunti? Ask for a son who knows Dharma and will be the hope of Kururashtra. Yudhisthir." Cut to Yudigit being born.

[rxreid]

Cheater 《 Part. 2

This gif has absolutely nothing to do with the fic I just wanted to use it.

[A/N] ~ So, people actually enjoyed part 1?? And @asonofpeter requested part two so here yah go :) also, I am a tumblr noob so I don't know how to link part one... its under #tom holland on my blog though :)

Warnings ~ Swearing

It had been three months since you and Tom had last exchanged words. Three long months since you walked right out of his life. People asked you how you were doing, to which you always gave the response of 'I'm fine' or 'I've moved on,' both blatant lies. You never truly realised how much your life revolved around Tom. Even when he was gone, he was there to comfort you after a particularly rough day or order pizza when you were sick. He tackled all of your problems with you as if they were his own. But now? Now you had to face the world alone.

Your best friend let you move in with her after the break up, she provided you with company but nothing compared to Tom. You knew you shouldn't still have feelings for him, he'd ripped out your heart and stomped on it. But you did. Every waking hour of your day was spent thinking about Tom, and when it wasn’t, it was because you had finally been able to sleep after hours of crying.

Tom was doing worse than ever before. He'd cancled his trip back to America to allow himself to wallow in self pity. How on Earth could he let himself do that to the most important being in his life? The thing that completed his heart? You were his final puzzle piece and you were gone.

He, too, got the questions asking how he was and he answered with the same responses as you. Harrison knew everything he said was a lie. Tom had asked him to stay in the spare bedroom at your apartment until he felt like putting himself out there again. Harrison was company, but not company like you.

~~~~

Monday morning rolled around quicker than you expected. You groaned as your alarm rang through your ears, seeming louder than it was. You had the morning off work so you'd decided to be productive and go outside for coffee instead of being cooped up in the apartment. Getting out of bed, you showered before throwing on an old sweater and a pair of leggings. After getting ready, you finally made your way out of the apartment and headed for the nearest cafe. Slipping in your earphones, you blasted the playlist you and Tom had made together.

The cafe was in sight and you lowered your head to attend to a notification on your phone. Out of nowhere, a body bumbed into yours, knocking you both to the ground along with the strangers coffee. You whipped out your earphones.

"Fuck, I-I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going. I'll buy you-" you started, but the stranger cut you off.

"Y/N?" He whispered. Your eyes locked with his and the realisation hit you.

"Tom...hey." you mumbled. He stood up, reaching his hand out for you to take. You didn't, though. You ignored it. Tom couldn't deny the slight tug at his heart. He cleared his throat, not knowing how to drift the conversation from its awkward stage.

"How have you been?" Great job at trying to keep away from awkward. Now you were going to ask him the same question and he couldn't lie. Not to you.

"I'm, uh, I'm doing good, thanks." Lies. "What about you?" You questioned, genuenly intrigued for his answer.

"Terrible. Y/N, I messed up, I fucking messed up. I miss you. You complete me, I'm a wreck without you." Tom rambled, your eyes widened in shock as his glossed over.

"Tom...not here. I'm staying at my best friends apartment, its a five minute walk. If you want to walk there we can continue this...." you trailed off. He nodded his head repeatedly as you motioned for him to follow you.

When you finally arrived at the apartment, you took Tom to the guest bedroom you'd made home. You sat down at the end of the bed and the brown eyed boy stood awkwardly in the doorway.

"You can sit down." You smiled sweetly at him. God he missed that smile.

"You're wearing my sweater." He whispered. You shook your head, you were sure it was your own. He lightly folded the end, revealing the tag that had his initials written in a black.

"Oh. I-I didn't realise." Tom chuckled at your response.

"Me too." You mumbled. Tom gave you a questioning look, promting you to continue. "I miss you too. A lot."

Tom let out an audible sigh, "oh thank god."

"But you still hurt me, Tom. You really hurt me. I-I never thought you'd hurt me..." you let a tear slip from your eye.

"I never meant to hurt you. Please, Y/N, it's been three months and I've never felt so incomplete. Come home." He pleaded, brown eyes looking lovingly into yours. You didn't want to give in so easily but you could tell he wasn't lying. He meant it.

"Okay." You whispered, Tom let out a small chuckle before embracing you in his arms. Those damn arms. The only things you'd wanted that night.

"Can we not go too fast? I'll come home but could we...wait on the ring?" Tom hooked his finger under your chin so you were facing him as he pressed a light kiss to your lips.

"Of course, theres no rush. I'm just happy to have you back in my arms. I'm sorry I hurt you, Y/N. I'm so in love with you." You felt one of his tears hit your cheek and you smiled.

"I'm so in love with you, too."

[mythiica]

Reader x Gavin - A Night Full of Surprises

Title: A Night Full of Surprises

Fandom: Mr. Love Queen’s Choice

Character: Gavin

Genre: okay hear me out it starts off as crack but i swear the smut part is legit kinky so dont close the tab

Warnings: hONhoNhon

Kinks: lingerie (heavy emphasis on undressing), sensual sex, sucking/licking/biting, first time sex, ??? idk its pretty vanilla, 👏 we 👏 practice 👏 safe 👏 sex 👏 in 👏 this 👏 fic 👏 (condom)

Intended Gender Audience: Female Audience 

Word Count: 2499 words

POV: second person

Requested by: anon(s)

Prompt(s): 

Other comments: okay so im evil, anon did not specify the lingerie, so this is the lingerie mc is wearing - enjoy!!! thank you to @ikesenrambles​ and @breadcheese444​ for helping me out with the beta reading! Also, thank you to @gracelesslamb​ for the idea that MC picks the wrong superhero... you’ll see what I mean ;) 

It is mandatory movie night with Gavin, and this time, it is your turn to select the film for the evening. Gavin is popping popcorn in the kitchen as you flip through the titles. Nothing in particular catches your eye, so when Gavin calls from the kitchen, you get up and join him instead of screaming across the room. 

         He slides you two beer bottles from the other side of the counter as he goes to retrieve the snacks from the microwave. “Did you find anything?” 

         Dejectedly, you mumble back, “There’s nothing good.”

         Gavin pours the small clouds into a large bowl. “What about that one romantic comedy that just came out?” 

         Raising an eyebrow, you take the metal caps off of the beers. “You want to watch a romantic comedy? Did I just hear that right?” 

         He laughs sarcastically at you. “I don’t mind what we watch, as long as you’re sitting next to me.” 

         Turning your head down, you blush at the words, but Gavin nudges you with his hip as he makes his way to the living room. “C’mon now, let’s look for it.” 

Back on the couch, you cuddle up in the crook of Gavin’s arm and search for the movie that he mentioned. It sounds promising, but then again, you cannot say for sure. Nonetheless, you opt for this rather than the horror movie Gavin suggested. 

         However, you really should have gone for the horror. This “comedy” is worse than anything you have ever seen before, and you wonder if the two of you should just call it a night. However, when you get up to stretch, Gavin catches your hand and pulls you back down. 

         It all happens pretty quickly – one moment he is sitting on the couch with your head pressing against his shoulder, and the next, you find yourself straddling his lap as his lips trail down your exposed neck. It does not help that you are wearing one of his button down shirts, and the fabric hangs loosely over your shoulders. This gives Gavin the perfect opportunity to kiss your skin as your fingers tangle in his hair. 

         Really, it must have been the last minute decision to have two beers that caused the shift in his aura. The movie was terribly slow, and even you were wondering when something interesting would happen. This, though much different from what you expected, definitely counts as interesting. 

         Breathlessly, you tip your head back and release a soft moan. Gavin looks up and swallows nervously. Your skirt had risen up your legs, exposing the flawless skin of your thighs. He would be lying if he said that he wasn’t intrigued by the sight. 

         The moment of hesitation is enough to make Gavin remove his hands from your waist. He brushes his thumb over his lip to wipe away the gloss that had transferred from your lips. “Sorry,” Gavin chuckles light-heartedly. A blush spreads across his cheeks as he rubs the back of his neck as he struggles to gather words for an explanation. 

         Your heart is still pounding from the spur-of-the-moment kiss. The warmth of his lips lingers on yours, and all you want is to feel it again. 

         As Gavin opens his mouth to continue his thoughts, you cut him off with a swift kiss. When you lean back, you smirk slightly. “Do you want to go further?” Your voice is soft, barely above a whisper – this would be the first time that the two of you progress past playful teasing. Still, you feel ready for it, and if he is as well, you want to continue. 

         His hands fall on your thighs, but now, he grips you tightly and hoists you up. Confirmation is written all over his expression, and Gavin tries to contain his smile. 

         The two of you stumble to his bedroom, pulling at each other’s clothes before you fall onto the bed. Your hair fans out around your head, and your legs fall open, inviting Gavin to sit atop you and work at the remaining buttons of the shirt you are wearing. 

         The fabric falls open, exposing your undergarments – Gavin freezes for a split second, and raises an eyebrow. 

         You glance down and nearly scream, realizing why he had paused. 

         “Batman lingerie?” Gavin tries to stifle his laughter as he traces the stitching of the black and yellow corset.

         Covering your face, you whine. “I got it as a practical joke because I thought you would like it!” 

         He pulls the waistband of your skirt back – of course, the outfit would be incomplete without matching underwear. “Superman is the superior hero, but actually…” Gavin is trying to lighten the mood, but you are still embarrassed. “I don’t mind Batman like this.” 

         To be honest, you had completely forgotten that you were wearing it, and of all days as well. Still though, you kick off your skirt, having already been exposed for the underwear as well. 

         Gavin leans over you and kisses your hands, coaxing you to move them away. “Don’t be shy. They won’t stay on you long…” 

         You peek through your fingers, and are surprised to see that his demeanor has not changed in the slightest. Gavin waits for your consent, so you throw your hands around his neck and whisper into his ear, “I’m a virgin…” His muscles tense against you as he hears your words. “Can you fix that?” 

         He inhales sharply to collect himself, and then plants kisses along your jaw. Gavin follows the  contour of the bone until he reaches your chin where he tips his head down to nip at your pulse. “Gladly,” he replies, his voice suddenly deeper than before. It catches you off guard and sends goosebumps rippling down your arms. 

         You squirm slightly under him as Gavin sits up. Seeing the corset again, a smirk takes hold of his lips. Again, he dips his head to meet the supple skin of your breasts that fall out from the edge of the cups. Bracing yourself up with your arms, you watch Gavin take hold of the zipper between his teeth and pull it down slowly, all the while keeping his gaze locked with yours. Really, you never imagined that Gavin could act like this, especially considering the fact that you were both equally inexperienced. After passing the curve of your breasts, he leans back again and opens the rest by pulling sharply with his fingers. 

         The corset panels open like doors, and your breasts slip outwards, finally released from the pressure of the fitted form. Quick to react, Gavin takes a handful of your breast and paws at it, watching your reaction. Unaccustomed to the sensation, you inhale deeply and twist your hips around. 

         Still looking at you, Gavin drags his tongue over your free nipple before sucking on you sharply. His eyes flutter closed as he works your breast with his mouth and the other one with a hand. He has a gentle touch, but pays close attention to the things that make your heart leap out of your chest. Once your nipples go numb, he pulls back and simultaneously pinches on them. 

         “G-Gavin!” you squeal, reaching to cover your breasts. They sting momentarily, making Gavin smirk. He gives you that irresistible look – his fingers rake through his already sweaty hair, he bites his bottom lip slowly, and his eyelids fall slightly to give you his best bedroom stare. Honestly, you can feel yourself getting wet from the look alone, and you let your legs fall over the edge of the bed. 

         “You want me to keep going?” he asks, his voice low and sultry. Gavin very well knows what your answer will be – it is obvious from the growing stain in the underwear, but he wants to hear you say it. 

         “Please, Gavin–”

         He lifts your leg effortlessly and continues to trail kisses over your stomach and then down your thighs. Gavin only stops once he reaches your ankle and once he does, he pushes you up on the bed. Your back presses against the headboard, and in a swift motion, Gavin pulls off the corset and your underwear off. They go flying through the air, but you do not see where they land because Gavin crashes his lips against yours once more. 

         As his fingers dig into your sides, you fumble with the waistband of his boxer briefs until you manage to pull them down. He’s still kissing you though – his hands are clasped over your cheeks, trapping your lips against his. The beer you shared from earlier is heavy on his breath, peppering your tastebuds with the subtle sharpness of the alcohol. Gavin is completely and utterly intoxicating – and it is not just from the lingering liquor. 

         When Gavin is fully undressed, he tangles his fingers in your hair and reaches for the drawer of his night stand with a lazy hand. From the corner of your eye, you can see the illustrious glint of gold packaging – a condom. 

         Despite having your limbs tangled with his, Gavin tears open the package and begins to roll it onto himself. You watch and inhale sharply, realizing that this (besides that one instance when you accidentally saw him changing) would be the first time you see him completely naked. Your legs are open, inviting him forward, but you reach out and run your fingers against his member. Lubricant from the condom sticks to your fingers as you touch him, and he lets out a breathy moan when you wrap your fingers around his base. 

         This is surreal really – he reacts to every subtle flick your fingers make as you pump him. His head is tipped down, almost as if he is relishing in the show. Swallowing hard, you lean back, returning to your position against the headboard, and spread your legs open once more. With your fingers slick from the condom, you rub yourself while keeping eye contact with Gavin. 

         His pupils dilate and he grips your ankle, pulling you forward so that your cunt meets his cock. Rocking your hips back, you throw your arms around Gavin’s neck and pull his head down to whisper into his ear. “I’m ready.”

         Gavin nods and inserts slowly, giving you ample time to adjust to the sensation of being filled. It is completely different than the moments you had indulged in some self care – Gavin is not plastic, and you can feel the warmth of his member inside of you as he stretches your walls. His thrusts are steady, and rock the bed back and forth. It creaks beneath your combined weights, but you don’t care to pay it much attention. 

         He braces himself on the headboard with one hand while the other fondles your breast. It does not take long before you can hear the unmistakable squelching sound of his length entering into you over and over.

         As you drag your nails down his muscular back, Gavin begins to thrust faster – his hips clashing with yours after every fluid motion. It’s like elastic, despite the fact that his movements are unsure. He has never done anything like this, but Gavin is more than pleased with how your walls pulsate around his cock. 

         When he buries his nose into the crook of your neck, Gavin sinks his teeth into the skin of your neck, successfully giving you a hickey. 

         “Gavin! Ahh–” you moan, whipping your head to the side. “You’re going to leave a mark.” 

         But he only smirks and tucks your hair behind your ear. “It looks good on you.” 

         You flush at his words and want to protest, but Gavin tips his hips upwards the slightest bit, leading him to hit the spot that makes you see stars. This sends you spiraling into bliss as the knot in your abdomen tightens sharply. 

         This time, Gavin nips your collarbone. He makes it his personal mission to find the spot that makes you yelp with pleasure. Your reactions fuel him to go faster – in fact, maybe you are a little more responsive than he was expecting. The way you squirm around under his body reminds him of something he once saw in a porn film. And when moans drip from your bruised lips, Gavin cannot contain himself. 

         His slender fingers strum over your throat, and he presses soft kisses to your pulse. Gavin rubs his cock against your folds, sending sharp pulses through your clit. 

         You try to bite back the moans in your throat, but Gavin quickly learned how to coax them from you. Tilting your head back, you release a powerful cry. “G–Gavin, I swear, I’m going to cum–” you whimper against his glistening skin. 

         A low grunt rumbles in his chest. “Then cum. I want to feel you.” 

         You are surprised to hear those words come from his lips, but then again, the night was full of surprises. Once again, you tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. Gavin lifts your leg over his hip and delivers his most powerful thrusts yet. Each one buries you into the mattress of the bed and makes you sing out your praises. 

         Gavin’s lips find yours, and the next moment, his tongue is in your mouth. He no longer tastes like alcohol, but you love it just the same. Without warning though, the knot in your abdomen bursts, making you arch your back and press yourself close to Gavin. His hand tucks around you to hold you close, and with a few more thrusts, you ride out your climax and he reaches his own. 

         Despite using the condom, a new type of warmth fills your insides, and your legs start to tremble from being overstimulated. Gavin sets you down against the bed and sits back on his heels. He pulls out, but then waits to catch his breath before he removes the condom. 

         You are still in a daze, so you don’t see him toss it into the bin in the corner of his room. Gavin returns quickly and hoists your body carefully as to tuck you under the covers. He holds you tightly, and your ear presses against his pec, allowing you to hear the thundering beat of his heart. 

         No words are exchanged at this point, but you do not mind. It is enough to listen to the steady rhythm of his breathing as it synchronizes with yours. You grip his bicep and pull yourself up just enough so that you can kiss Gavin in thanks. 

         “Was it good?” he inquires, the corner of his mouth curling into a grin.

         “What do you think?”

         Gavin nods happily and peckers your face with kisses. He settles against you and closes his eyes, so you nuzzle against his chest and catch a glimpse of the black and yellow lingerie in the corner of the room. 

         Gavin was right – they didn’t last long anyways. 

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Somebody to love; Brian May x reader

*Author’s note*

Now this isn’t really a part 2 to Soulmates through music fic but I couldn’t help myself and write a little fluffy piece for this oneshot. Now I’ve already written pt.3 and I just need to do pt.2 hopefully before my schedule gets too crazy with all the research papers I’m going to be doing till May. So again this is just a cute little side shot for pt.1 of a three part oneshot that I had in mind for our loveable astrophysicist because I will tell you guys right now, the next part will be pretty angsty so enjoy the fluff while you can.

Now I’ve changed up some stuff in regards to who wrote what, and since Somebody to Love has been my all time #1 fav. Queen song, I thought about reader-chan writing the song for the purpose of this fic so please NO HATE. Freddie will ALWAYS BE the genius for writing this song. Enjoy my darlings :) don’t forget to reblog and comment.

Part 1      Part 2     Part 3       Part 4

Queen taglist *open*

@geek-and-proud

______________________________________________

*Nov. 11th, 1976*

I was just digging through some of my old boxes my mum had brought over to our place.  There were photos that either belonged up on the mantel or never deserved to see the light of day and I have no idea why my mother would think Brian should ever see these photos. Just because we’ve been married for 4 months now, doesn’t mean he has to see everything about me.

That’s when I came across a medium sized shoebox that was labeled.

SONG BOX

Oh my god, I had not seen this thing since I was a teenager.  I opened it up for shits and giggles and took out every piece of paper that was in that box. Soon the table was practically covered with old songs that I had written growing up.

I picked up one song that I had written at 15 that I for whatever reason I titled, “Swag King”.  I cringed as I set it aside and unfolded another one that was called, “”. How I ever got by these song titles I’ll never know.  I smiled widely and softly laughed remember how each song was made to about the time I could start song writing at like 13-14 years old.

“What’s got you so happy?” my smile got wider as I felt the familiar arms of my husband Brian wrap around my 6 month baby bump.

Oh did I forget to mention that part.  Well apparently Brian and I had gotten so drunk during the after party of the tour that we ended up having unprotected sex and the next thing I knew as I was trying to find me a wedding dress with Veronica, Mary and my mum, I raced to the bathroom and started puking my guts out. Shortly after going to the doctors, it turned out that I was about 8 weeks pregnant.

God I was soo terrified to tell Brian, I mean yeah we’d agreed to have a wedding right after the tour but we weren’t ready to raise a child just yet.  

Queen was bigger and more famous than we had ever been, gaining more fans worldwide, albums selling out as soon as they hit the market and songs going straight to #1 on the charts.  A child into the mix at this height of fame just wouldn’t be right for us, or our baby.

But bless him when he had found out, he held me that day as I wept hysterically and told me that he still wanted the baby and that no matter what we were gonna be fully supportive of our baby, and he was going to try and be the greatest dad he could be and he told me I’d be the greatest mum to our baby girl.  Of course that soon started a debate between us scientists until it finally turned into a bet on what the gender would be.

When it came time for the gender reveal that we wanted to know at the appointment, it turned out that Brian was right so once our baby girl is old enough for camp, we’ll be sending her off the space camp as per request of Dr. Brian May. While if we had had a boy, then we as a family once he was old enough would travel to Africa and go on one of those safaris that I’ve always wanted to go on.  

But whatever the gender and no matter the bet, I’m happy that we’re gonna have a baby girl.  I’ve always imagined Brian being this overprotective father to his little girls, embarrassing them to no end, but also being the shoulder to cry if they needed it.  I know he’s gonna be a great dad to our little princess when she comes out.

“Just looking through some stuff my mum brought over.”

“What kind of stuff?” he asked as he began to softly kiss up and down my neck.

“Just some old photos, home movies she’d thought we’d need to watch and….my box of old song lyrics.” He stopped kissing my neck and said.

“Really, may I have a look?”

“Absolutely not. Just because you are my husband doesn’t give you the right to snooping through my stuff that I’ve kept hidden during my teenage phase.”

“Ohh come now love, I’m sure they aren’t that bad.” He then reached out for the “Swag King” on and read it.  I bowed my head into my hands as he said, “I was wrong, this is terrible.”

“Brian!”

“I’m joking! It’s not that bad. I mean ‘Call him the Swag, because he don’t make me gag’. It’s good.”

“You don’t have to lie to me I know that song’s horrible.” I pouted as I sat down on the chair.

“No, no darling I think it’s cute. What’s this one here?” He then reached out for another piece of paper and unfolded it as he placed his head against mine kissing it.  “Lovin Elvis?”

“I was 13 when I wrote that give me a break. I was extremely hormonal and you know how much I loved the King. All my friends were crazy about him.”

“Maybe I can have the lads look over this one. Maybe even have it put on the “A day at the races” album.”

“You even take one of these papers and show it to them I swear to god Brian Harold May you will never know what happened to your red special.” That got him to shut up as he put the song away and sat down.

For the next several minutes we went through every song I ever wrote from the time I was a young teenage girl, to about the time Smile was beginning to form.

“Hey (y/n),”

“Hmm?”

“When did you write this one?” Brian said as he flipped the page over revealing the lyrics.

“Is there not a date at the top?”

“No I’m not seeing one.”

“Here hand it over.” He gave me the song and I looked at it to see it titled; “Somebody to love”.  I searched for the date and like Brian said I couldn’t find one until it hit me, “Oh wait now I know why. I never dated my songs until after they were complete. But I know this wasn’t written over 10 years ago, in fact I think I wrote this for Smile. Maybe even as Tim was forming Smile back when it was just the two of us.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, but when I ran it by him he told me the concept wasn’t ‘Rock and Roll’ enough. To gospel he said.” He looked over the paper once more and looked at me before taking my hand and suddenly leading me towards the piano we kept in our living room.  “Whoa, whoa Bri not so hard you do realize I’m six months pregnant with your child, anymore stress like that and I could burst and we’d have a child on our floor.”

“Sorry love, but I was wondering if you’d play the song for me?”

“Right now?”

“No in the next 10 years, of course now.”

“But Bri it’s not finished, I always hated singing incomplete songs, especially when left in the dust for so long.”

“Just please try, for me my love? For our baby girl? You know she loves it when her mummy sings to her.” He said as he lowered himself down to the ground and wrapped his arms around my bump and leaned his head against it, being sure to look up at me with those puppy blue eyes of his.

“Dick move using our daughter for your personal gain May.” I chuckled.

“But it works every time, don’t it?” I smiled and shook my head at him and agreed to it.  I opened the lid to the piano keys and had the sheet music in front of my on the stand and looked at it carefully.  I warmed up by playing a few chords and key changes before I dived right into the song.

By the time of the third word, my voice slightly cracked as I said.

“Oh Jesus I forgot how high I wanted that note to be.” And as I sung the last note as low as my voice could go, that’s when the piano playing began to pick up.  Like greeting a long lost friend, there was this connection and passion I had back when I had first written this song as my voice grew with a more passionate crescendo as I kept singing the song.

By the time I finished the chorus, I stopped playing and panted heavily.  I turned to Brian and he was just in awe at me.

“Well…..what did you think?”

“I think—we just found our literal Queen’s next big hit.” He leaned forward and captured my lips with his as we began to make out right there by the piano.

The next morning arriving at the studio, I had the song in my hand and I was nervously fiddling with it.

“I don’t know Brian what if the guys don’t like it?”

“Then they’d be bloody insane. I mean we were forced to put Roger’s car song on the last album and this song as at least three times as better than that song. They’ll love it darling, just like I did.” He said as he placed his hands on my arms rubbing them comfortingly. I sighed deeply and said.

“Okay I’m sorry. Guess pregnancy heightens my insecurities.”

“It’s going to all work out love, come on before Roger throws another coffee machine for us being late.” He wrapped an arm around me and we both entered the studio.

“About time you two showed up, thought you two would’ve been shagging or something.” Roger teased.

“I’m already pregnant with one child there Rog I don’t suddenly need another seed sprouting this late in the game.” I pointed at him.

“(Y/n) my darling, I swear you just keep getting more radiant with each passing day.” Freddie said as he came up and kissed both my cheeks.

“Oh stop it Fred, you jest.”

“I jest you not darling. The sun can’t compare to the shining light that stands before me.” He praised as he swung my hands back and forth.

“Lads, (y/n) actually has a future song ready for us.” Brian made the announcement.

“Really?” asked Deacy.

“Yeah I….well my mum brought in a bunch of old boxes from my family home and one of them happened to be my old song lyrics box. Filled with all the songs I’ve tried to write since I was 13 and Brian came across this song. It’s not finished and probably needs a lot of work but he says it’s Queen’s next hit. I don’t see it though.”

“Oh don’t be hard on yourself darling. Come now play it for us and show us what you’ve got and then we’ll see where to go from there.” Freddie said as he gestured me toward the piano.  He helped me sit down and I thanked him as I set the song on the piano stand and turned toward the boys who were all staring intently at me.

Brian nodded to me and gestured for me to breathe. I took a deep breath and proceeded to play the song for them, just as I had done for Brian last night.  Once I was done singing, Deacy, Roger and Freddie were all in deep thought and they all silently looked at each other.

“Well there’s something definitely wrong with your beginning statement before introducing us to this song. And that’s the fact that you don’t think this could be a Queen hit.” Roger stated.

“You’re serious.”

“As serious as he can get, yes it will need a bit of workshop but this song….I’m already hearing the bass for this song in my head right now.” Deacy said.

“Alright my dears, let’s get to work.” And it was then we immediately got to work on recording, ‘Somebody to love’.

“Okay so what I’ve got in mind is that this whole verse here is great, but it’s out of place. I think it should go somewhere after the bridge maybe even the third chorus.” Suggested Freddie.

“Okay I can see that, but then what would the second verse be?” I asked.

“How about this?” suggested Deacy as he held out a piece of paper.  I took the paper and saw.

“‘I work hard ((s)he work hard) every day of my life. I work till I ache my bones.’ Yeah I love it Deacy, but why did you put the he/she part in there?”

“Depends on whose singing this song of course.”

“Oh there’s no doubt, (y/n) will sing it. Won’t you darling?”

“Oh no, no, no, no Fred I—”

“Nonsense darling, this is something you clearly wanted to see come to life and I couldn’t sing it with as much passion as you give it. Well I could but I don’t want to.”

“Fred I don’t know, it’s rare when the fans allow a song to be sung by other than you. I mean you are the lead singer after all, they get all credits to singing.”

“Unlike most bands darling we share equal rights to songs. I didn’t reject Brian to taking the main leads to ‘39, hell I suggested you two take lead vocals for the chorus of that song. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to touch Roger’s sexual car song.”

“It’s a metaphor Fred!!”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night dear.” He said as he turned to Roger before turning back to me and placing a hand on my shoulder, “The point is darling, take this as your time to shine as the actual queen of Queen. Do it for us, for my future goddaughter.”

“Did you teach him that?” I said as I turned to Brian who only shrugged but he had that guilty look on his face.  I sighed deeply and said.

“Okay, but you guys have to stop guilting me like that. I mean it, you all are just too cute for your own good when you guilt trip me by using my unborn child as an excuse.”  Freddie cheered and planted a kiss on my cheek and so it was official that I would be the lead singer for this song.

The song took a few days to record ever instrument and every playback so that our voices sounded like a choir of 100 singers. I had to practice which vocalization techniques I wanted on the repeated phrase of “fine me somebody to love”.  I ended up trying over 10 until I was finally proud with one of them.

*May 18th, 1977, Houston, Texas*

It was like any other concert, not quite as stressful as a tour where you’re managed like crazy in order to keep a schedule and then move onto the next city, here we were just performing for a couple of days.  I had just gotten done with maternity leave about a month ago after giving birth to my daughter, Chloe Franklin May.

And Brian was over the moon the second he got to hold his daughter in his arms.  The boys were so happy for us and they fawned over their niece and spoiled her rotten, mostly Freddie of course.  I had Chloe back home with my mum while I had to get back to the boys but I knew this concert was going to be broadcasted so I hope they were watching the telly back home.

We had just gotten done with playing Bohemian Rhapsody when Freddie spoke into the microphone.

“Thank you. Featuring (Y/n) May at the piano.” The spotlight shined on me and I waved to the audience who cheered, “We’ve missed her dearly since her maternity leave, but we’re glad to have her back. Right now we’d like to play a song written by (Y/n) when she was still a single gal, probably dedicated it to a certain man who’d soon become her husband.” I flipped Fred off and he chuckled at me, “It’s currently rising at the tops of the singles charts thanks to you. And featuring on lead vocals herself the true queen of Queen. Here’s (Y/n) May with her song ‘Somebody to love’.”

I played a chord of the piano and I began to sing the song.  I first started off softly much like the record and then the boys backed me up on the low note for the word ‘love’.  I picked up on the piano as Fred came and sat down beside me joining me until it became a brief double piano duet.

But then Freddie allowed me to take his mic stand as I now stood up and sung the first verse as I walked to center stage. The spotlight shining on me as I finally reached center stage, just a few feet away from Brian as the boys joined in behind me.  By the time the second verse kicked in, my voice grew with passion as I allowed my throat to give some of the notes that sudden growl that I did on the record that no one not even the boys saw coming when we recorded it.

By the end of the 2nd chorus, I was so into the song, that my body suddenly lost control as I was lost in the rhythm of the song.  I even undid my bun and allowed my long hair to fly outwards which got some cheers from the crowd and I threw my scrunchy toward the audience as I sung with more passion.

Finally Brian’s guitar solo came up.  He came right up to me, serenading me with his guitar which never failed to send shivers up my spine.  Much like how a male emperor penguin who serenades his future mate with his love song.

I smiled at Brian and the two of us touched our foreheads together as he kept playing his solo and I vocalized into the microphone before resuming the next chorus before the bridge that originally was the second verse that I had written.

The boys and I put all of our passion and heart into playing and singing the song and then once the repetition part of ‘find me somebody to love’ came on, I led the audience into clapping to the rhythm of Roger’s drumming and said.

“I want to see every single person in this room, see every single pair of hands. Three! Four!” We then began singing the mantra and I could hear the audience singing along as I began my vocalization while the boys sang the mantra.  Letting my voice both slide or slowly crescendo then decrescendo as I adlibbed some speaking lines and then once the last part of the mantra began I was already belting out an “ahh” vocalization.

Suddenly I felt Brian’s arms around me and as I turned his face was right up close to mine.  As I softly crescendo my last solo I wrapped my arm around Brian’s neck and as I sang the decrescendo vocalization of the word “love”, Brian slowly dipped me and I leaned my head backwards, feeling his nose softly graze my neck.

When he pulled me back up, our lips met and Roger and Fred took over the last few lines as Brian and I swayed softly in each other’s arms.  Our foreheads leaning against each other’s and once the song had ended, the entire stadium roared with applause.  Suddenly I was snapped out of my trance realizing that we were performing a concert.

I hid my face into Brian’s shoulder but he took me out of his embrace and held my hand upward and gestured to me and the audience seemed to cheer louder, chanting my name.

I couldn’t help the wide smile that spread across my face as I took in the fact that a song that was once criticized by my brother as too gospel, was now Queen’s next big hit among its fans.

After our performances in Houston we were now back home in London.  Brian and I cuddled up in bed just shortly after putting Chloe in her crib by singing her to sleep since she enjoyed both her parent’s singing to her.  My head resting on Brian’s bare chest as his hand stroked through my hair.

“You know what I had realized, about when I wrote Somebody to love? Well it was more like after I stopped writing it.”

“What?”

“The next day, that’s when Tim had introduced you as Smile’s new guitar player.”

“The day we first met.” He muttered.  I nodded and raised my head up and placed it against my palm as I stared up at Brian.

“Guess that song was magical even with its incompleteness.” Brian smiled and stroked my cheek as he said.

“Glad I found it among those other songs. I love you (Y/n) May, you are my somebody to love.”

“And you are mine, Brian May.” I leaned down and captured his lips with mine and we both kissed each other softly but with so much love until finally we cuddled close to each other and went to sleep.

[minyardfluff]

Here is my gift for Megs @st-draco for the @tfc-net 1 Year Anniversary event! She requested something involving steampunk/dystopian society, so here is a graphic with an accompanying ficlet below the cut! I’m so sorry it took literally almost a year but I hope you like it! <3

Steampunk AU where The Fox is an airship in need of a pilot and Neil is an airship pilot who doesn’t need a crew (or at least that’s what he tells himself).

War has broken out between the upper and lower classes worldwide, leaving no inch of land unscathed and no person unaffected. In this new age, Nathaniel Wesninski has been raised an airship pilot. His father was a famous battalion leader, the right hand man to General Moriyama. Growing up, Nathaniel knew he’d one day have to join his father’s ranks, but he didn’t care too much. Mostly he was just happy he was being taught to fly airships, even if Lola did punish him when he did something wrong - he just learned to do it better next time. At 12 years old, Nathaniel and a few other boys his age were given the chance to fly a ship called The Raven. It was evident that Nathaniel and two of the other boys, Kevin Day and Riko Moriyama, were the best of the lot so they were invited back for an additional chance to fly the next day; however, before that day came, Nathaniel’s mom stole one of his father’s airships and ran away with him in the night.

Fast forward five years and you’ll have found Neil Josten, suddenly alone in the world, pushing his mother’s body out of the airship to fall into the flame-infested landscape. It gutted him, but he didn’t want to risk landing so soon after they were attacked nor could he bear to leave her lying on the floor of the gondola in a pool of her own blood. A few months after that, Neil was in a bad state, both mentally and physically. Having only one person on board meant every responsibility fell to him; keeping stock of food and parts, repairing the ship, navigating the ship, checking the radar for other ships, listening to the radio for insights on war zones, making sure he doesn’t accidentally fly into a wildfire zone so his gas cells don’t blow up. It was hard enough with two people, now that he was the only set of eyes, ears, and hands, it was downright brutal.

It happened when Neil was executing a plan he and his mother had run many times before. He learned from the radio about a skirmish nearby that resulted in three airships crashing to the ground with no survivors detected. It was the perfect opportunity to scavenge for parts. 

Neil slowly lowered his ship as close to one of the downed ones as he could, stopping it so it was hovering just above the earth, then lowered his goggles, grabbed his satchel, and pulled his gas mask over his face. Any place with a recently crashed airship, let alone three of them, was sure to be filled with toxic gas. He opened the hatch in the floor and threw down a rope ladder, quickly climbed down, and scurried to the nearest ship.

He made quick work of loading up his satchel with different sized bolts and gears, when he heard a loud crash followed by some muffled swearing.

Neil jumped between the ship and a large piece of metal that had come off it and crouched down. It wasn’t long before the voices got closer, they were still muffled - most likely due to also having to wear masks like himself - but he began to be able to make them out.

“-d’you try to climb that, it was obviously unstable!”

“I was going for a higher vantage point! He has to be around here somewhere.”

All of Neil’s senses, already on high alert, went into overdrive at that statement, but he forced himself to stay calm. Just because they were looking for someone didn’t mean it was him. There were many dead bodies laying around that they could be searching through.

The thing is, though, that when you’re being hunted, you tend to keep track of the people who are hunting you, and it just so happened that there, standing no more than five steps away from Neil, was Kevin Day.

Neil choked on his breath and must have made a sound because Kevin and the man he was with both swung around and stared right at him.

Neil’s heart was rabbiting. The moment drug out and he could almost pretend that they hadn’t seen him, except Kevin took a step forward, “Hey are you a pilo-”

Neil shot up out of his crouched position and used his momentum to angle the piece of metal he was hiding under to fly in the direction of the two men. He took off at a sprint in the opposite direction, but he wasn’t fast enough. He saw the sun glint off the metal pole only moments before that pole was swung into his stomach. He doubled over and fell to his knees, his body trying to dry heave and pull in air at the same time and being unable to do either.

His attacker stood over him with a bored expression on his face, as if he hadn’t just sealed Neil’s fate.

“Dammit, Minyard! We need him alive!” The older man scolded as he and Kevin caught up to them.

The attacker shrugged and lifted the metal pole over his head. Neil glared at him in defiance and Andrew held his gaze. The moment stretched on, then, Andrew’s expression tugged down in a frown and he swung the pole like an ax down towards Neil.

“Andrew!” Kevin yelled and made to lunge at Andrew, but Andrew stopped the pole from hitting Neil just inches above his head.

Neil, through sheer determination, had managed not to flinch and continued to glare at Andrew.

“Oh no, you might actually be interesting,” Andrew appraised him, then threw the pole off to the side.

The older man came around to stand by Andrew and Kevin was a bit off to the side. Neil could make another run for it, but they were now in his path between himself and his ship. Besides, there could be countless others around here. He couldn’t stay here, but he was better off waiting for an opening. He slowly stood up and looked between the three men warily.

“Andrew can be a bit violent,” this was the older man speaking, who Neil guessed was also a pilot based on the cap he wore on his head accompanied by goggles. “My name is David Wymack, I’m captain of the-”

“Fuck you,” Neil cut him off, “I don’t care who you are, I’m not going with you!”

“You’d be an idiot to refuse us.” Neil shot his eyes over to Kevin, “your ship is in shambles. You clearly either don’t have a crew or anyone on it needs to be fired, but going by your own ragtag appearance I’d say it’s the former.”

“Your men killed any crew I ever had,” Neil sneered.

Wymack glanced towards Kevin, who had gone pale, and cautiously replied, “You know who we are?”

“Of course,” Neil glared at them, “Kevin Day, prodigy of The Raven Fleet who was honorably discharged a month ago after an injury.”

Neil noticed Kevin flex his left hand, but it was Wymack who spoke, “Kevin was discharged after he fell off his ship, he was lucky the ship had been grounded at the time. That’s the story you’re talking about, right?” When Neil gave a curt nod he continued, “Kevin didn’t fall. He was pushed.”

___________

so. I’m actually awful and can’t finish a fic (not even a ficlet) to save my life, but this is so overdue and has been weighing on my conscience since it’s a gift for someone and I want to be able to give them something rather than nothing who knows maybe this is worse than nothing so I’m being optimistic and decided to post this, incomplete as it is -- but Neil joins the Fox, ensnares Andrew’s and everyone else’s heart, Andrew gives Neil the adorable little fox figurine from the graphic, Riko and Nathan die in an airship battle, and everyone lives happily ever after~

[you-a-southpaw-doll]

Lucille ~ A Negan One-Shot

Request: ZA!Negan and he has Rick and co. kneeling on the ground and there’s a beautiful girl next to daryl that looks familiar. but he can’t really see her. as he’s talking the girl keeps smarting off. he makes her look at him and it’s his wife who got lost from him in the beginning right after he made the leader of the savors. she knew it was Negan by the voice and the way he was talking. turns out one of the guys left her while on a run. PURE FLUFF AFTER HE FINDS OUT ITS HER. Also she’s badass and Rick has kept her safe after he found her.

Requested By: @mychemicalimagines

Summary: Negan comes across a familiar face that turns his upside-down world right side up.  

Warning(s): Fluff. Language. Smut. Angst. Sexual tension.

Word Count: 5,920

Author’s Note(s): 

So, @mychemicalimagines sent me this request, and after talkin’ ‘bout it for a hot minute, I couldn’t help but start writing this. And, bud, I hope this turned out how you were wantin’ it to.

 Also, Negan doesn’t have a harem of wives in this story. We decided that he wouldn’t be a cheater, but rather, he’d be too distraught for a reason you’ll soon find out, that he wouldn’t take another woman to be his wife. 

As for the title, I got it from the song “Lucille” by Kenny Rodgers, but the name itself does play a key part in the story.

Relationship(s): Negan x Reader.

Characters: Negan. Reader. Rick. Simon. Dwight. 

Taglist: @negans-network @thamberlina @prettyboynegan @mychemicalimagines

Story Time:

 Negan’s POV:

A Couple Years Ago:

“I’m sorry, boss. She didn’t make it.” Simon says.

I stop in my tracks and turn to look at my right hand man. My heart tightens as his words process in my mind. Even though my heart’s tightening at the moment, I don’t let my emotions show.

“What the ever-loving fuck do you fuckin’ mean, Simon? She didn’t fuckin’ make it?” I hiss, my fingers gripping my baseball bat tightly.

Simon has the grace to lower his eyes as he repeats what he just told me. Once the words leave his lips for a second time, I reach forward and grasp the collar of his shirt in my free hand. I jerk him towards me, getting up in his face.

“YOU HAD ONE FUCKIN’ JOB, SIMON! ONE FUCKIN’ JOB! AND THAT WAS TO FUCKIN’ KEEP HER FUCKIN’ SAFE! GODDAMIT!” I yell.

He doesn’t flinch, but lowers his eyes to look at his chest. I shove him away.

“I want you to fuckin’ go back out there and get her fuckin’ body! She deserves to be buried fuckin’ proper. Not left out there with those goddamn fuckers! Do you fuckin’ understand me?” I demand.

He nods. “Yes, boss.”

I storm off before the tears can spill from my eyes like they’re threatening to do. As soon as I’m back in my room, I slam the door slam so hard that the photo on the wall falls off and crashes to the floor. I lean against the door, and slide down till my ass hits the ground. 

I pull my knees up to my chest, wrap my arms ‘round my shins and sob like a damn two-year-old child. The love of my life, my everything, my whole fuckin’ world, my wife, ain’t ever fuckin’ coming home now. I’m never gonna be able to wrap my arms ‘round you from behind as you’re cooking spaghetti again.

I’m not gonna be able to fall asleep with you tucked in my arms. I’m never going to be able to kiss your lips or your forehead. I’m never gonna feel your arms wrap ‘round me. Or feel you run your fingers through my hair as you try to calm me down. 

You’re never gonna lay your head on my chest at night when we’re relaxing after hours of making love. I’m never going to hear you say “I love you” again. I knew I shouldn’t have let you go out on that run this morning, but you were just so fuckin’ stubborn and you pulled that puppy dog look that you know I can never say no to.

If only I had. Then you’d be here, safe and sound.

 Present Day:

Since that fateful day a couple years ago, I’ve put up walls, distanced myself from others, and turned into a ruthless leader, ruling with an iron fist. I don’t take any shit from anybody. Which leads to me standing in front of Rick the Prick and a handful of his men. 

A kid, ginger, an Asian, a sick looking woman, a couple of other fierce looking women, and one woman that looks familiar, but I can’t place why. They’re all kneeling in front of me. I can feel the fear radiating off of all of ‘em, ‘cept for one. That one woman that seems somewhat familiar.

“Pissin’ our pants yet?” I tease, but still keep my tone threatening.

Everyone in the lineup cowers. But one. My men, the Saviours, all stand behind the group kneeling on the gravel patch. Not a single person answers me, but that’s alright. I’m not expecting an answer. I strut ‘round in front of Rick and his crew. 

“Do you know who I fuckin’ am?” I taunt, swinging Lucille up to my shoulder.

“Yea. A fuckin’ asshole.” The smartass woman says.

Normally, I’d be fuckin’ pissed at someone being a smartass to me, but for some reason, I can’t bring myself to be mad at this woman. There’s just something ‘bout her that’s piqued my interest. I just wish I fuckin’ knew what it was, but no worries; I’m sure I’ll find out before the end of the night.

I go through my spiel ‘bout how I’m the big bad wolf, and that they all work for me now. Their shit is my shit. The woman that doesn’t cower once at my actions keeps smarting off to me. Her voice sounds familiar as shit, but I don’t let it cloud my judgment. 

There’s no way it could be you.

My mind must be playing fuckin’ tricks on me since it’s been two years since Simon told me that you didn’t make it. I glance at my right hand man, and he seems a little outta sorts. But, I’ll deal with that later. Maybe he’s dealing with his own shit too.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you for fuckin’ killin’ my damn men, Rick. That’s shit’s not cool. Not cool at all. And, I’m gonna fuckin’ show you just how not cool that shit is.” I say. 

Rick lowers his eyes, and I can see his body tremble in fear. The kid next to him just gives me a one-eyed stink-eye glare. It doesn’t take me long to realize that the kid is Rick’s very own fuckin’ son. I dive into a very eery version of “Eenie Meenie Moe.” 

“You killed all my men, Rick.” I hiss at the man.

“Your men? How are they yours? You give birth?”

I jerk my head at the familiar-ish woman who just keeps one smartass comment after another coming my direction. I can’t help but let at out a deep-bellied laugh at her last remark. But, at the same time, it’s something you’d say, and it makes my heart constrict.

“Oh-ho. Looks like someone’s got a fuckin’ mouth on ‘em!” I taunt.

“Look who’s fuckin’ talkin’! I swear, you must really like the sound of your own voice.” She retorts.

I swing my bat, Lucille, in front of the woman that has yet to cower in front of me, and keeps being a total fuckin’ smartass. I notice a spot on the back of her neck, just under her left ear, and I stop everything. My breath catches in my throat. My heart stops beating. 

I never thought I’d see that mark again. I never realized how much I’d miss seeing it until I couldn’t see it anymore. The tight grip I had on my bat, Lucille, loosens slightly, but not ‘nough to let her slip from my fingers. The woman still has yet to lift her head, so I crouch down in front of her. 

I reach my leather covered hand forward, place two fingers under her chin, and tilt her head back. The woman’s eyes meet mine and it’s like life just fuckin’ pauses. My heart starts beating ten times faster than it has in years. The blood rushes to my ears. 

My mouth goes dry and I lick my lips, while I struggle to form a single word.

“Lucille?” I ask, quietly.

You give me that signature smile of yours that I fell in love with twenty years ago when I met you for the first time at the school I coached at. I just stare at you, not believing that you’re actually in front of me. I shift from a crouched position and drop to my knees. 

I move my fingers from under your chin to cup your cheek. You lean into my touch immediately. Your eyes drift shut as you nuzzle my palm. Lucille, my trusty barbed wire baseball bat that I named after you that day, since you’d given to me years ago, drops from my fingertips and I hear her clatter to the ground.

I hear a few of my men let out hushed murmurs and an even quieter “Uh, Boss?” from Simon. But, I don’t pay attention to any of that. My focus is on you. You’re alive. You’re fuckin’ alive.

“Lucille, baby?” I murmur.

Your eyes open and you look at me. “Hi, honey. Miss me?”

My heart swells and I instantly break down. I pull you off your knees and into my lap. I plop down on my ass, not caring ‘bout the gravel digging into me. I wrap both my arms ‘round you, and bury my face against your neck. As I sob, you just hold onto me tightly. 

I feel a couple of wet drops against my skin, and your body shake in my arms. I realize that you’re crying too.

“I love you, baby. I love you so fuckin’ much.” I whisper between sobs.

You cling to me tighter. “I love you too, Negan.”

After a few minutes, I lift my head up, and look at you. I bring my ungloved hand up, and wipe away your tears. I lean forward and gently press my lips to your forehead. Once I pull back, I realize something. Simon fuckin’ lied to me years ago when he told me you were gone. 

I look up at him, and see him swallow deeply. My eyes narrow.

“I’ll fuckin’ deal with you fuckin’ later, you fucker.” I hiss at him.

He nods hesitantly and gulps. I nudge you off my lap, for a second, but only so we can stand up. The rocks digging into my ass are starting to fuckin’ hurt. Once I’m standing, I pull you back into my arms. Your arms snake ‘round my waist and you rest your head against my chest. 

I close my eyes as I rest my chin against the top of your head. I feel whole again. When I thought I’d lost you, I felt broken, incomplete even. My life was shattered. My world was turned upside down. Even more so than the fuckin’ world ending. 

But now, with you in my arms, my world is right side up again.

“Uh, Boss? What would you like us to do with the Prick and his crew?” I hear Dwight say.

I let out a low growl which has you quietly giggling. I open my eyes, but keep you in my arms. I ain’t letting you go anytime soon. I look at Rick, and motion, with my head, for him to walk over. He hesitantly gets up and walks over to me. He looks at you.

“Uh, Lu? What’s goin’ on?” He asks, still unsure of what’s going on.

You turn your head to the side, but keep it resting against my chest.

“He’s my husband.” You say.

I feel my heart swell with love from hearing you say that. Before the world went to shit, and hell even after it did, you always took pride in me, and the fact that I was your husband.

Rick looks shocked. “Lu? Your husband?”

You nod and tighten your arms ‘round me. I tighten my arms ‘round you too, and bury my face against your neck, taking in a deep breath. Damn. You still smell like vanilla, lavender, and a hint of tobacco.

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry, baby. I thought I’d lost you. I love you, Lucille. So fuckin’ much. You’re the one and only. Forever and always.” I murmur softly into your hair.

I lift my head up after a moment, to see Rick looking at me.

“You saved my wife, eh?” I ask, hiding my emotions behind the walls I’ve built over the last couple of years.

Rick nods. “I found her a couple years ago. She was on her own, and she took down at least fifteen of those walkers by herself. I offered her a safe place with my people. She’s a badass.”

I smile, proud of you. You look up at me, and I gaze down at you.

“You are my little badass, ain’t you, sweetheart?” I tease.

You just grin and nod. “Mmhhmm.”

I look back at Rick. “I know I said I was gonna kill one of your men in exchange for you fuckin’ killin’ thirty of my goddamn men in their fuckin’ sleep, but since you took my wife in, I’ll let it slide, but don’t fuckin’ think for one goddamn fuckin’ minute that if you or any other fucker try any shit like that again, that I won’t shut that motherfuckin’ shit down in a fuckin’ heartbeat. Do you fuckin’ understand me, Rick the fuckin’ Prick?”

He nods, and lets out a breath of relief. “Yes. Loud and clear.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Crystal?”

He nods. “Crystal.”

“Good. Then get your fuckin’ men and women, and get the fuck outta my goddamn sight. I’m keepin’ the fuckin’ RV too. I’ll be by in a fuckin’ week to collect what’s mine. Got it?”

“Yes, Negan.”

I nod and wave my hand, gesturing for him to get outta my sight. He scurries away and rushes over to his son. I watch as you pull away from my embrace and rush over to Rick’s men. At first, I’m confused as shit, until I see you hug Daryl, Glenn, Abraham, and everyone else that I had kneeling on the ground.

I realize that even though I’m your husband, these people have become your family in the last two years. And, I know how you are ‘bout family. They mean the world to you. I don’t try to stop you from saying your goodbyes to these people.

When one of my men tries to stop you, I immediately shut him down by gripping his upper arm and pulling him back with a glare. Watching you hug Carl makes my heart swell with several emotions. Love. Pain. Guilt. Regret. Hurt. I know you’ve always wanted a kid, but that was the one thing I could never give you.

And it breaks my heart. If only I hadn’t have had that accident when I was 17, then maybe I could’ve given you at least one or two kids. Rick the Prick and his crew head out on foot. A couple of my men look at me questioningly. I raise an eyebrow and they turn away.

“Get our shit packed up, boys! We’re goin’ the fuck home!” I shout.

During the ride back to the Sanctuary, I keep you in my arms. I have Dwight drive the pickup truck since you wanted to sit in my lap, and I wasn’t gonna be the one to keep you from getting what you want. You have your legs on either side of my thighs, with your back against the dashboard. 

My hands rest on your hips. You play with the zipper of my leather jacket, looking down at your hands. I manage to tear my eyes from your features for a moment to look at Dwight.

“D, I need you to do me a fuckin’ favor when you get back.” I say. “And keep it on the fuckin’ down low until I say otherwise.”

He glances at me before looking back at the road.

“Ok?” He asks, hesitantly.

“Throw Simon in the cells. Feed him that dog food sandwich that you made for Daryl once a day. And don’t give him anythin’ else.” I instruct.

He nods. “Yes, sir.”

You fingers still on my jacket. I look back at you. You look at me with a look of confusion on your face.

“Why?” You ask.

“The fucker fuckin’ lied to me and fuckin’ told me that you were fuckin’ dead. And, when I sent his ass back out to get your body so I could give you a proper fuckin’ burial instead of leavin’ you out there with those fuckers, he came back and told he couldn’t find you. It all makes sense now. You weren’t dead.” I say, lowering my voice to a whisper.

You reach a hand up and cup my cheek, shaking your head.

“No, honey. I wasn’t dead. That asshole left me behind. I had tripped over a fallen tree, got stuck in a hole, and broke my ankle. He told me that you were better off without me. That you didn’t love me anymore. That I made you soft. I didn’t believe him. I knew how much you loved me. After he left me, I managed to get to unstuck, I made a brace for my ankle outta some sticks and my belt. I headed out, in what I thought was the way back to the Sanctuary. I got turned ‘round and lost. I came across a herd of ‘bout fifteen walkers. I had just finished off the last one when Rick found me. I wasn’t in any condition to keep trying to go back home. To get back to you. I tried, honey. I fuckin’ tried. But, no one in Alexandria knew of the Sanctuary, or where it was located, so I couldn’t get any help. I’ve been trying for two years to get back home to you. I just happened to be traveling with them tonight ‘cause we were trying to get Maggie to the Hilltop since she’s pregnant ‘cause they got a doc there.” You explain.

“The fucker left you to fuckin’ die? He’s gonna fuckin’ pay for that, and for fuckin’ lyin’ to me. I wish I’d known you were out there, baby. I didn’t wanna believe Simon when he first told me. I even went out to look for you several times, just so I could either find you alive or find your body so I could give you a proper burial. After a year, I still kept goin’ out to look for you, but a couple of the communities under my control started pushin’ back, and I had to fuckin’ shut that shit down.” I say, placing my hand over yours against my cheek.

“Shh. It’s ok. We’re together now. That’s what matters.”

I nod. “You’re right. As always.”

You smile and my heart beats faster. I always was a sucker for your smile.

“I love you. You know that, right?” I ask.

You nod. “And, I love you too.”

I grin. You lean forward and brush your lips against mine. I sigh, happily into the kiss. This is our first kiss in two damn years. When your tongue traces the seam of my lips, I comply with your wishes, and open my mouth. Our tongues dance together. 

After a few minutes, and a very heated kiss that gets me real fuckin’ excited, you pull back, giggling. I chuckle as I reach up to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I still have the same effect on you, don’t I?” I tease.

You blush and nod. “Mmhhmm. Seems like I still have the same effect on you too.”

I laugh. “Of course, you fuckin’ do, sweetheart. “

You grin and kiss me again. Softly this time. Pulling back, you rest your forehead against mine. I close my eyes as our noses touch. 

“How’d you know it was me?” You ask, quietly.

“Well, when you first started with your fuckin’ smartass remarks, I thought I recognized your voice, but I just thought my mind was playin’ fuckin’ tricks on me, since today’s the two year mark since I let you go out on that damn run. But then, you made one specific remark that made my heart tighten and I knew it was somethin’ you’d fuckin’ say to me, ‘cause you fuckin’ have before. Yet...I didn’t know for sure until I saw your tattoo.” I explain, finally opening my eyes.

You pull your head back a wee bit, and look at me. “My tattoo?”

I nod and bring my hand up to the left side of your face. I run my finger over the tattoo behind your left ear. It’s the mark I saw in the lineup that let me know it really was you. You blush once you realize what my finger is running over. A few years after we got married. you got a small tattoo behind your ear.

It was a simple N with an L overlapping the N. After you got it, you explained that it was a simple reminder of our relationship. You might’ve also gotten slightly tipsy the night you got it done, so afterwards, you got nervous ‘bout it, and felt like it was stupid.

I thought it was adorable and a sweet gesture. You’d always mentioned getting some sort of tattoo that represented our relationship. Lord knows I got one for us. 

“That’s how I knew it was you, sweetheart. I’d recognize that little bit of ink any-fuckin’-where.” I say.

“I guess it wasn’t stupid that I got it then, eh?” You grin.

“Like I’ve told you for years, I never once thought it was stupid. I always thought it was adorable as fuck.”

You giggle. “I know.”

When we get back to the Sanctuary, Dwight parks the truck, and I hop out with you still in my arms. Seems like you don’t wanna be outta my arms any more than I want you outta ‘em. Dwight takes care of what I asked him to, and I carry you up to our room.

Even after Simon told me you were dead, I still refused to move anything of yours outta the room, or change it up. I barely notice all my people as they kneel before me. Before us. I do happen to catch a small group of people that look up at us in shock that quickly turns to happiness.

A pair of new people that came to the Sanctuary a few weeks go to stand up, but the older members who have been here since you were still here quickly tug ‘em back down to their knees. I catch a few words of what they quietly whisper.

“…she’s back.”

“Negan’s wife is alive!”

“That’s Negan’s wife.”

Normally, I’d give ‘em hell for talking while kneeling without my permission to go back to what they were doing, but right now, I’ve got more important things on my mind. 

You. And getting you upstairs.

As soon as I get you to our room, I set you down on our bed. I kiss your forehead.

“Don’t move. Unless it’s to get naked.” I say.

You giggle. “Always tryin’ to get in my pants, Negan.”

I chuckle. “You wish. And, can you blame me, doll? You’re fuckin’ hot as shit. But, for now, I’m just gonna start you a bath.”

“A bubble bath?”

I smirk. “Maybe. I can’t give away all my secrets, now can I?”

You laugh. “No. I suppose not.”

I grin and make my way to our connected bathroom. I reach under the bathroom sink, and grab the bottle of bath bubbles. I walk the few feet between the sink and the claw foot bathtub. Turning the hot water on, I adjust it until it’s at the temperature I know you like. 

As the water runs, I had the bubble bath liquid to it. Within a few moments, the water is full of bubbles. I light a few candles I had in the bathroom and place them along the ledge beside the tub. Once I have those small tasks completed, I make my way back into my bedroom.

I stop when I see you laying on my bed, completely naked. You still take my breath just like you did the first time I met you, and the first time I saw you naked all those years ago. I suck in a deep breath. The noise has you turning your head towards my direction. 

You smile once you see me. You pat the bed next to you.

“C’mere, honey. Lay next to me?” You ask, grinning.

I walk over to you, but I don’t lay beside you. As much as I want to, I can’t. It’s not part of my plan. I stand in between your spread legs. You prop yourself up on your elbows, and look up at me.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s get you in the bath.” I say.

“You gonna join me?” You ask, tilting your head to the side.

“Perhaps. But, I got a few things to take care of.”

“Good things or bad things?”

I chuckle. “Good things, baby. Only good things. I promise.”

You smile. “Ok.”

I hold my hand out towards you. You take it. I pull you up and hold you against my body. I brush a strand of hair behind your ear as I lean down as softly kiss you. You wrap your arms ‘round my neck and cling to me. I place my hands under your thighs and lift you up, pulling back from the kiss in the process. 

Your legs wrap ‘round my waist, and I carry you into our bathroom. Once I get close to the tub, I slow my movements. I set you down in the tub as soon as my knees hit the side. You slide down my body as you lower yourself into the warm, bubbly water. 

After you’re submerged in the water, you lay back against the porcelain white tub. You tilt your head back to look up at me. I can’t help but smile down at you. I reach over and turn the water off when the water’s high ‘nough and to your likings. 

I give your forehead a kiss.

“I’ll be right back, ok, honey?” I assure you.

Your eyes close as you nod slowly with a grin spreading across your face. I chuckle as I walk back out into the bedroom and over to the record player you put on our bookcase a few years ago. I flip through our collection of records and find your favorite one. 

The second I find it, I grin, and pull it out from between the two records it’s wedged between. I slide the vinyl outta its sleeve and set it on the wheel. Placing the needle on the edge of the vinyl, the music starts playing and drifts through the room. 

I hear you let out a happy sigh and a giggle from the bathroom. I chuckle quietly. I’m glad to have you back here. In our home. With me. I grab my walkie-talkie from my belt. I bring it up to my mouth, and push the button on the side down.

“Dwight.” I say.

A second goes by before I get a “Yes?” in response.

“Have someone in the fuckin’ kitchen make a thing of chicken pot pie, mashed potatoes, and creamed corn, and have it sent to my fuckin’ room. ASAP.”

“Yes, sir.”

I clip my walkie-talkie back on my belt and unzip my leather jacket. I toss it over the arm of the couch, tug my red scarf from ‘round my neck, and slip my plain white t-shirt over my head. I set the two articles of clothing next to my jacket. I sit down, take my boots and socks off, and set ‘em at the edge of the couch. 

Standing up, I buckle my two belts, unbutton my pants and push ‘em down my legs. My boxers go along with my grey jeans. I scoop ‘em up, and fold ‘em up. I know you’d smack me if I left my clothes laying ‘round the room. You sure did give me hell ‘bout it when we first got together.

The moment I have my clothes situated, I walk over to my dresser, find your favorite t-shirt of mine for you, and a pair of clean boxers for myself. I walk into the bathroom, set the clothes on the counter, and saunter over to where you’re laying in the tub.

I run my hand over your head, getting you to open your eyes. You look up at me with a big smile on your face.

“Hi.” You whisper.

“Hey yourself, darlin’.” I reply softly.

Your eyes drift down my body. The moment you realize I’m naked too, you grin, blush, and giggle. I just chuckle.

“Still room for one more?” I tease.

You nod, excitedly, and shift in the water. You slide forward, and I step in behind you. The bubbly water glides over my tanned skin as I skin down into it. With me having one leg on either side of yours, you scoot back against me. Your back presses against my chest, and I wrap my arms ‘round you. 

You place your smaller hands over my much larger ones, and weave your fingers with mine. You rest your head against my shoulder and relax. For the first time in two years, I finally have you back in my arms, with nothing between us. My lips press against your temple and you let out a quiet giggle.

“What?” I ask, chuckling.

“Your beard. It tickles.” You say.

I laugh. “You like it? I can shave this shit.”

You quickly shake your head. “Uh-uh. I like it. Keep it. I wanna see what your scruff will feel like in other places.”

“And you say I’m the one trying to get in your pants.”

You laugh, turning your head to look up at me. I just smile down at you.

“Maybe I am trying to get in your pants.” You tease. “It has been a hot minute.”

I playfully growl. “Don’t tease me, woman.”

You laugh and sit up just ‘nough to kiss my cheek.

“Oh, but we both know you like it when I do.” You murmur.

I chuckle, and tighten my arms ‘round you even more. You just giggle even more.

“There ain’t a fuckin’ doubt in the goddamn world ‘bout that, doll.” I reply.

You smile and relax in my arms again. Yeah, we ain’t had sex, well, made love, if I’m gonna be completely honest, in two years, but that’s the last thing on my mind, regardless of what my dick’s saying. I just wanna make sure that you’re comfortable and relaxed at the moment. 

That’s all that I care ‘bout right now. You are my top priority. Always have been since the moment I met you. When the water turns cold, and our fingers and toes look like shriveled up raisins, we finally get outta the tub. I drain the water before getting out. 

I grab a fluffy towel and dry you off. After that, I slide my t-shirt over your head, and you just take a deep breath in the moment it’s on you. I smile.

“You good, sweetheart?” I ask, pulling my boxers on.

You step closer to me, run your fingers up my chest, and nodding.

“I’m more than good, Negan. I’m back home with you. In your shirt.” You say, before your lips meet mine.

My arms curl ‘round your waist as I hold you close to my tall frame. Keeping my lips barely against yours, I smile.

“Good. I’m glad you’re home, baby. I’ve missed the fuckin’ shit outta you.” I murmur.

“Mmm. I’ve missed you too.”

I peck your lips one more time before pulling away completely. You whimper the moment I do, and I can’t help but chuckle.

“Oh hush,” I tease. “You’ll be back in my arms soon ‘nough.”

You smile. “I’d better be.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I take your hand in mine and together, we walk into the bedroom. Sitting on my desk, is covered tray. I realize it’s your food. I’m not sure when you last ate, but I wasn’t taking any chances. You get settled on your side of the bed, underneath the covers, as I take the cover off the plate and bring it over to you. 

You prop yourself up against the pillows, and happily take the plate of food. You scarf it down. Far too quickly for my likings. I frown as I sit next to you. You pause, the fork halfway to your mouth, and look at me.

“What?” You ask.

“You hungry, sweetheart?” I ask.

You nod. “Very much so.”

My frown gets bigger. “When’s the last time you fuckin’ ate?”

Your hesitation answers my question. It’s been a while. Or at least, it’s been a while since you’ve had a decent sized meal. You finally give me a shrug as you finish eating. Once your plate’s clean, I take it and set it on my desk. I look back over at you. 

You just pat my side of the bed and look at me, expectantly. I chuckle and answer your unspoken command. I hop into bed next to you. You immediately curl up next to my side, tangling your legs with mine, laying your head on my chest, and draping your arm over my tummy, bending it at your elbow so you can play with my chest hair.

You’ve always loved the fact that I had chest hair. I drape one arm ‘round your shoulders, and let my fingers tangle in your hair. My other hand comes to rest on your arm, where my fingers dance across your skin.

“Negan…” You start.

“Shh…It’s ok, baby. We can talk later. Ok? For now, let’s just enjoy the fact that we’re back in each other’s arms. Yeah?” I ask.

You nod. “Ok.”

I kiss the top of your head.

“I love you, babe.” You murmur, sleepily.

“And, I love you, sweetheart.” I whisper.

 I wake the next morning to an empty bed and my heart breaks. Surely yesterday wasn’t a fuckin’ dream. Right? I sigh as I feel my eyes start watering. The tears come, no matter how much I want ‘em not to. After a while, I finally get the motivation to get outta bed. 

Sitting up, I swing my legs over the edge. Closing my eyes, I bring a hand up and run it down my face. I open my eyes and see a small sheet of paper on my nightstand.

Negan,

You’re still sleeping, but I’m hungry, and I didn’t wanna wake you. So, I’m going down to the kitchen to get some food. If you wake up before I get back to the room, I hope you’ll come join me?

I enjoyed sleeping in your arms again last night.

I love you.

Your Lucy.

I smile as I re-read the note seven times. You’re actually here! Yesterday wasn’t a fuckin’ dream. I can’t help but chuckle at your note too. Leave it to you to let your tummy dictate your actions. I quickly get up, setting your note back on my nightstand, and get dressed. 

I do so in record time. I’ve got to see you again! As soon as I’m dressed in my pair of grey jeans, and white t-shirt, I bound down the several flights of stairs to the kitchen. I don’t even bother with my leather jacket, scarf, or my legendary baseball bat, your namesake. 

In a happy mood, I shock a few of my people, but they quickly kneel when they see me. They’re not used to seeing me in such a good mood. I’ve been down in the dumps since the day Simon told me you weren’t coming back. I excitedly fling open the doors to the kitchen and dining room.

The area immediately goes silent at my presence, and everyone drops to kneel. ‘Cept for a group of people over by the line for the food. I wave my hand for everyone else to get back to what they were doing. I make my way over to where the commotion is. 

I keep my eyes open, looking for you. That’s when I see that you’re in the midst of the commotion. I rush over to you.

“Always causing trouble, eh, sweetheart?” I tease you quietly.

I wrap my arms ‘round you from behind and kiss your cheek. You relax in my embrace, leaning back against me.

“I’m not trying to. This time.” You reply.

I frown and lift my head up. You turn ‘round in my arms. I look down at you.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

Your mouth opens to reply, but before you can, a male voice cuts in.

“Sir, she doesn’t have ‘nough points to get breakfast.”

I jerk my head to look at the man that just said that. My good mood instantly shifts. I glare the man.

“What the hell did you just fuckin’ say to me?” I hiss.

“She doesn’t have ‘nough points to get breakfast. Sir.” He repeats, stuttering slightly.

“Like hell she doesn’t. Do you know who she is?”

He shakes his head. “No, sir.”

“This, right here, this lovely young lady, is my fuckin’ wife! She gets whatever the hell she wants. No questions asked. No smartass fuckin’ comeback. Nothing. She wants it, she fuckin’ gets it.”

“But, sir. She doesn’t have any points, and she’s not listed on the points system.”

“Did I fuckin’ stutter, you fucker? She wants somethin’, she fuckin’ gets it. Now give her some breakfast.”

He hesitates. “But…”

“BUT FUCKIN’ NOTHIN’. GIVE HER SOME FOOD BEFORE I LET YOU AND MY DIRTY GIRL, LUCILLE, HAVE A NICE LITTLE DATE AND GET TO KNOW ONE ANOTHER BETTER.” I yell.

The man flinches and visibly shakes. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

He quickly gets some food on a plate and hands it to you. He gets one for me as well. I take and glare at him. I keep my arm ‘round your waist as we make our way over to the table where I normally sit whenever I decided to sit in the cafeteria.

You sit next to me, and look at me before eating.

“What Lucille were you talkin’ ‘bout, Negan? I ain’t ‘bout to date someone else.” You say.

“You know my bat? The one you gave me?” I ask, hesitantly.

You nod. “Mmhhmm.”

I look down at my food. “Well, after I thought I’d lost you, I named after you. I felt like you were still with me, through her. I know it seems stupid…but…”

You cut me before I can say anymore by placing your hand on my arm. I look up at you.

“Shh. It’s not stupid. In a fucked up kinda way, I think it’s sweet. It’s definitely somethin’ I can see you doin’.” You say.

“Really?” I ask, shocked.

I wasn’t sure how you’d respond to my baseball bat. Or how I do things now. You nod.

“Yes, honey. It’s very Negan-like.” You say with a smile.

“So…you’re not mad?” I ask, quietly.

You shake your head. “Mad? Why would I be mad?”

“I named a fuckin’ baseball bat after you. I’ve changed. The thought of losing you broke me. I’m not exactly the man I was when you were here last time.”

“Shhh. Honey, it’s ok. Losing you broke me too. We’ve both changed. But, I can tell that deep down inside you, you’re still the man I fell in love with all those years ago.”

“Yeah?”

You nod. “Definitely. Plus, you’re more rugged, and I happen to find that really fuckin’ sexy.”

I smirk and bite my bottom lip. “Is that fuckin’ so?”

You blush. “Mmhhm.”

I lean forward and gently kiss you. When the kiss is over, we eat our food. You keep one hand on my thigh, and I keep one arm ‘round your waist. A few minutes later, I look up at the sound of approaching footsteps to see Fat Joey walking towards our table.

He nods his head in my direction. I nod back.

“Fat Joey! What can I fuckin’ do for you?” I ask.

“Nothin’, sir.” He replies.

My brow furrows. “Then what the fuck are you doin’ over here?”

He hesitates. “I came to see Lucille, sir.”

I glance down at you and see you jerk your head up from your food. You grin once you see Fat Joey. He gives you a soft smile.

“Hey!” You say.

“Hi, Mrs. Lucille. I just wanted to say that I’m glad you’re back. It hasn’t been the same without you, ma’am.” Fat Joey says, somewhat nervously.

“Well, I’m glad to be back. It’s good to see you.”

He just smiles. “Well, I’d better get back to it. I’ll see you ‘round.”

“See you later.”

Fat Joey nods at both you and I before he turns and walks away. When you were here last time, everyone fuckin’ loved you. But I can’t blame ‘em, ‘cause I love the shit outta you too. You might be a total badass, but you’re also a total sweetheart too.

“Besides, you’re still soft. You’re my giant teddy bear.” You say after a moment, and it takes me a moment to realize that you’re going back to our earlier conversation.

“How fuckin’ so, doll?” I inquire, glancing at you outta the corner of my eye.

“Well…for starters…you’re six foot two, extremely muscular, lean, and you look scary. ‘Specially with your tattoos and that scruff you got on your face. But, I know you. And, you, honey, are really just a softy. You’re gentle when you kiss me, or hold me in your arms. And, you look so fuckin’ adorable when you sleep. Even though you snore louder than a damn Mack truck barreling down the interstate at 75 miles an hour.”

I chuckle. “I do not fuckin’ snore.”

You laugh. “Yes, Negan. You do. I’ve slept next to you for well over twenty years. You do indeed snore.”

“You’re lucky I fuckin’ love you.”

“Oh hush. I love you too.”

[a-curious-aquarius]

SCM: a sea of stars and lucid dreams

(...so I’ve been working on this for forever, this sort of a stream of consciousness, poetic thing, and I’m so proud of the finished result. I know a long time ago an anon requested more SCM stuff - though I think they requested Zyg or Hue or someone else... so, sorry anon. I had hardcore Dui feels and couldn’t stop myself.)

(I’m actually kind of afraid to post this because I worked very very hard on it, and I’m worried no one will read it... c’est la vie, c’est la tumblr. also, the ending of this is slightly, barely nsfw, so uh, you’ve been warned.)

Before you, Dui doesn’t dare dream.

His subconscious is a web of nettles and black holes, shattered and reformed into something ugly and divided and cold. In sleep, he is pulled into that sickening void, drowned in black and thick and anger and shadows, those shadows mocking him over and over again - You are not whole, not whole.

The only other color in the blackness is a glint of white, sharpened fangs curled into a grin, his shadow self shelved away and forgotten only until he dreams. More taunts from that half of himself - You dare call yourself a god? You suffer because your sins are unforgivable, his shadow hisses. You’ll suffer as an incomplete being for infinity until you confront your transgressions. This is why you can’t be whole. Not whole not whole not whole you deserve NOTHING-

And then Dui awakens, shaken and sweaty and wracked with a guilt so profound he can barely breathe.

So, he doesn’t dare dream. Not anymore. 

And with his subconscious shut tight like Pandora’s box, his shadow self shelved and hidden, Dui can only pray it will be enough to keep those unsavory fragments of himself locked away, banished to the blackest parts of his mind, drifting in the void - drowning, drowning.

In those first few months you are together, Dui can’t help but resent you, if only slightly. He resents the way you sleep so soundly, nose twitching sweetly as you dream - soft, incoherent words manifesting as sighs. He resents the subtle way you shift under sheets, unburdened by tossing and turning and thrashing, unplagued by a guilt so profound that he doesn’t dare sleep.

Of course, he resents himself even more for resenting you, only leading to a familiar cycle of self-loathing, fragmenting of self, not whole, not whole, you deserve nothing-

You’ll never know how many tears he sheds while you sleep, awed and angered by your steady breathing, borderline snores - overwhelmingly endearing, infuriating.

He tethers himself to you, tucks your body into the circle of his arms until any space between the two of you disappears, burrowing his face into the crook of your neck. He breathes you in deeply, exhaling resentment and guilt and years of shouldering his suffering alone.

“...Dui?” you murmur, adjusting in his arms, voice thick and groggy. “Mm, what time is it?”

“Shh,” he hushes into the skin of your shoulder. He places a soft kiss there, revelling in the way it makes you sigh. “Go back to sleep.”

Ever-perceptive, you twist in his embrace until you are nose-to-nose, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth until he smiles. “Are you alright?”

His shadow self chimes in, How did a mess like us get so lucky? His voice is sharp, clear - unburdened and freed from Pandora’s box by your unconditional love.

Although Dui still struggles to accept his shadow’s thoughts as his own, he can’t help but agree this time, kissing you full on the lips until you’re arching into him, bringing your body impossibly closer, closer. Dui groans at the contact, surging and gasping into your mouth, willing your warmth to seep into every one of his pores, begging the heat to banish the chill in his bones, the lingering fear in his heart, the unmended rift in his soul.

Afterwards, he can’t help but slip into sleep, sated and safe, lulled by your even breathing and the beat of your heart.

Tonight, he dreams only of vague shapes and shadows, of muttered words and curses, of unsettling swirls of discord and mismatched puzzle pieces, of ropes tied around wrists and tugging at seams.

When he stirs far too early that morning, awakening with his shadow’s sneer burned into his brain, Dui instinctively tightens his arms around you, tethering himself to your warmth, your warmth, your warmth-

Why won’t you accept me?

He swears fervently, I’m trying, I’m trying - but the echoes of himself don’t cease, rattling in his ribcage - that dividing line between his two halves blurred but prevalent, nonetheless.

And shadows whisper like ghosts, haunting him even as he wakes.

He loves the way you look in starlight, the shine of each star echoing the constellations in your eyes. You gape and sigh and blush, reaching a hand out into the void, almost as if you tried hard enough, you could catch a fistful of stardust.

Your eyes trace the stars, open and awed and awestruck, matching the movement of your fingertips against the sky, and Dui thinks you are the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

Your other hand grips his so tightly, the slight tremble in your fingers betraying your fear of falling. The city stretches out below your bodies, after all, as impossibly far away as the stars above you. Yet you never shy away from letting him pull you up here, free from gravity and every worldly weight, simply floating without care, molecules dissolving into the night air.

“It would be so easy to lose myself out here,” you muse, barely a breath, the first words spoken between the two of you in quite some time. “A single body lost to the sky, stuck between the heavens and earth, you know?”

You don’t turn to look at him as you speak, but he can’t help but stare, watching as your lips move, as your eyes flicker between stars.

“I know,” he responds simply. That is all he can say.

He hears your heart beat once, twice in the following silence, and then you say, “I love you, Dui,” your words as easy as breathing.

His shadow claws outwards then, screaming out his love for you in response to your words - the same love that Dui knows so intensely, a love overwhelming to the point of pain. Dui closes his eyes, fighting the knee-jerk reaction to push his shadow away, instead pointedly opening the floodgates to let him speak in Dui’s stead.

“I love you, too,” his shadow says aloud, and Dui thinks in unison, I love you, too.

You grip his hand even tighter for a moment, almost as if you can sense the spark of turmoil within him, trying to squeeze his two selves together between your fingers, the heat of your palm a nuclear fusion welding him into one. He squeezes back once, and his shadow repeats the motion a second time, the flow between his original and shadow selves more and more natural with every breath.

He is thankful, so thankful that you treat him as an indisputable whole, abandoning the distinction between him and shadow. Although he still hasn’t quite achieved the same seamless lines, you make it easier - infinitely easier - softening the struggle within his chest.

In the resulting quiet, you smile to yourself, a movement so slight that it would be easy for anyone else to miss. But Dui notices, always notices when it comes to you, and his heart flares with warmth in response - a warmth he shares equally with his shadow - and the both of them revel in everything you are: stardust and hope and sweet nothings relinquished to the night.

You smile, and Dui knows you are the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

In the depths of the night, Dui learns surrender.

He submits willingly, emphatically to the softness of your arms, the heat of your breath, the graze of your lips on his mouth, his temple, his neck-

His nails scratch down the bare expanse of your back in turn, and you shiver, that tempting mouth pulling away from his skin to groan aloud - unabashed, unmade, freed.

You’re rocking your hips then, faster, harder, and he can’t keep any sensible thought in his skull, coherency slipping through the cracks - he doesn’t care, doesn’t care if he can’t ever think thoughts that aren’t of you, can’t ever speak words that aren’t your praises. His goddess, his goddess.

“I love you,” he gasps. It’s all he can say, and he’s thrilled to realize that his halves speak in unison, declaring their adoration as a singular being.

They’re entwined, connected by their rapture - those two halves he once thought to be irreparably separate, doomed to fight one another for control of a shared body.

Dui can’t say for sure if he’ll ever be a uninterrupted whole - perhaps the seam between him and his shadow self will never go away. But it is in this moment that he realizes - for the first time - that he doesn’t mind. He and his shadow, sinuous and separate, have accepted one another to the fullest extent thanks to you, a little slip of a woman whose fingernails scratch along his chest, whose mouth calls his name-

-Dui, Dui, Dui, ah-!

-as if the souls within him were never two, as if his heart were never torn, as if there were never walls built around shadows and shame, as if his name were the sweetest thing to ever touch your tongue.

It is humbling, healing, and neither half can get enough - shared heart beating hard as you move against him, both their thoughts speaking in unison - though by now rendered repetitive and unintelligible, nothing more than I love you, I love you, oh gods I love you, you feel so good, you’re so beautiful-

By the way you shudder and moan, perhaps he says the words aloud.

He watches the way you come undone, and he and his shadow are nothing more than men in love, enraptured and ensnared by everything you are.

In the aftermath, with both of your bodies awash in sweat and moonlight, you trace a meandering line along his chest with a fingertip. Your touch is so gentle that it almost brings him to tears - so, so gentle, like he is something precious, something to be treasured beyond its worth.

He watches as you slip into sleep, your eyelids flickering closed with a drowsy, sated smile still on your lips. Pressing a kiss to your temple, he curls around you to pull your body impossibly closer and closer still, lulled by the press of your curves and the beat of your heart.

His eyes fall shut, and in the resulting darkness he doesn’t see nettles or black holes. Instead, there’s a sea of stars - illuminated by the constellations in your eyes, the dimples in your back, the intonations in your laugh.

And as he holds you, fully intending to never, never let go, he free-falls into subconscious - unmade, unafraid, relearning surrender, and oh-

He dares to dream.

(so yeah, please reblog, tell me what you think, etc. I would appreciate it more than you know. I’m trying to be more consistent about finishing what I start, so hopefully you’ll see more from me soon. I think a kbtbb little short story is up next yee)

(...also I’m still a slut for italics, it’s an addiction)

[bebecue]

Black Bean Noodles (III)

Part 1 | Part 2

Original request:  “Can I request a scenario where you have a crush on Jooheon but he doesn’t know and he likes you back? […] you think he’s in a relationship but he [isn’t]? Thanks! x Love your writing.”

A/N: Final part, whew! I hope you guys like it :) I was supposed to post it up earlier but I fell asleep lol. I know some of you have been anticipating this, so I hope it’s worth the wait!

Warning: There are a few swear words (I got carried away lol???) So this is maybe rated PG? (idk how content/age ratings work)

Jooheon | Fluff | 2272 words (wow)

You bite your lower lip as you place your phone face down onto your desk. Jooheon had sent through a text message.

Sorry, can’t make it tonight. Another time!

It is the third time this week that he’s cancelled on you. Ever since you had asked him about his relationship status, he had started acting weird around you. His texts were sparse, his nightly visits had become more infrequent. Even when the two of you did manage to eat dinner together, the conversation between the two of you felt uncomfortable and somewhat forced. You’d see him walking around the building sometimes, and you would try to greet him, but he’d always run off before you could even come within ten feet of him, yelling some excuse about dance practice or doing a recording.  He is actively avoiding you and you are pretty sure that he is hiding something. You are starting to miss him, and you almost wish you hadn’t said anything in the first place. Maybe bringing up Jisoo was also a bad idea. You cringe as you’re reminded of the dialogue between the two of you that night. You tell yourself that if he wanted to keep that part of his life private, then you’ll stay out of it.

All right, you think to yourself. I won’t force anything. I’ll give him some space. 

You pick up the receiver of your phone and start to dial a familiar number, your fingers moving around the keypad automatically. “Yes, hello? Black bean noodles, for one please.”

“Holy shit,” your co-worker breathes, his eyes glued to your PC screen.

You can say that again, you think to yourself.

You are sitting at your desk, joined by three of your co-workers, all of you gaping at an email on your screen. The subject line reads ‘EMERGENCY MEETING!! 5 MINUTES!!’ There are several images attached to the email. The first, most important image is a screenshot of an Instagram post. Backup dancer Jisoo’s Instagram post. The post dates back to the night before, and in the photo is Jooheon and Jisoo. It looks like they are in a dimly lit karaoke booth, and Jooheon is holding a beer bottle in his left hand and a microphone in his right. Jisoo is next to Jooheon, her arms draped around his shoulders, her lips placing a peck on Jooheon’s cheek. Both of them look significantly intoxicated, red flushes on both of their faces. The caption reads ‘My honey!  🐝🎵🎤’. You flick to the next image on the email, already assuming the worst.

“Ooooh, shit.” This time, the words come out of your mouth.

The next five images are screenshots of the comment section on the post. Some comments, you think, are tame and harmless. Others, not so much. You look through them, wincing as you read each one.

Who the fuck are you?

Die bitch!

Don’t touch him🔪🔪🔪

You and your co-workers read through the comments, open-mouthed, when you hear someone clear their throat. The four of you look up from the screen and see your supervisor towering over your cubicle wall. Your co-workers scramble away from your desk back to their respective ones and you immediately straighten yourself in your seat.

“My office, now,” your supervisor says to you, looking extremely solemn

You gulp and stand up, fixing up your clothes. This is going to be interesting.

“It’s a shit show!” Hongsik, Monsta X’s manager, yells. 

The five of you are in your supervisor’s office - Jooheon and Jisoo are sitting down. Jooheon is looking down at the floor, not saying anything. Nothing comes from Jisoo as well, save for the occasional sniffle. Her face is red, and her eyes are puffy. She looks like she had a rough night. Hongsik towers over the two of them, and you and your supervisor stand to the side, witnesses to Hongsik’s fury. 

Hongsik, whips his head towards you, his eyes narrowing into tiny slits. You gulp involuntarily.

“What are you doing here?” he spits.

“Social media analyst,” your supervisor interjects, and you release the breath you had been holding. 

Hongsik closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Sorry,” he says, looking at you. “Long night.” You smile back sympathetically.

“So, what can we do?” Hongsik says, rubbing the back of his neck.

You clear your throat and turn to Jisoo. “Have you turned your Instagram to private?”

“N-no,” Jisoo replies, her breath shaky. “I can’t even look at my phone. I don’t want to.”

You press your lips into a tight line. You turn to your supervisor, and he raises his eyebrows at you. “Can I take her somewhere quiet? Please? I just need to look at her phone.”

Your supervisor shrugs. “Sure. Just stay here, we’ll head out. Call us back when you’re done.”

Three of them file out of the room, and Jooheon heads out last. Your eyes meet and he gives you a small, sad smile. Thank you, he mouths at you. You nod at him, and close the door behind him after he leaves. You turn to Jisoo, who is holding her phone in her hands, still sniffling.

“Can-can I see you phone?” you ask, as gently as you can.

She hands it to you without hesitation, and you press its home button. The screen turns on, and you see that she has hundreds of notifications from Instagram, Twitter, and KakaoTalk. You bite your lip as you steel yourself for the malicious comments. Jeez, people can be so mean.

You inhale deeply before you speak. “I’m going to turn all your SNS accounts to private. I’m also going to delete all your direct messages on Twitter and Instagram, okay?”

Jisoo nods without looking at you. For the next ten minutes, you go through all her inboxes and delete the messages, clearing out her notifications. You set her SNS accounts to private. You then decide to uninstall Twitter and Instagram.

“I’ve uninstalled some of your SNS apps,” you tell her as you hand her phone back. “Take a break from social media. Tell anyone close to you to contact you via text messages or to call you. You can install them again once you feel up to it.”

Jisoo gives a small grunt in reply. You sigh and place a hand on her shoulder.

“It’ll die down soon, I swear,” you promise her. “Just… be careful when you post things online next time. And don’t be afraid to report any comments or messages that make you feel genuinely unsafe.”

Suddenly, Jisoo stands up and gives you a hug. You’re caught off guard, but you place a hand on her back and rub it gently.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“It’s okay,” you reply, patting her back awkwardly.

She disengages from you and holds you out at an arm’s length. “Jooheon was right,” she says, patting her face with a tissue. “You really are nice.”

You raise your eyebrows. Jooheon had mentioned you to her?

Jisoo gives you a small smile. “Yeah, now I’m not surprised. No wonder…”

Her voice trails off, and she leaves you hanging with an incomplete statement. She turns away from you suddenly, as if she is afraid that she had said something that she shouldn’t have. She opens the door to the office and starts to head out.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” she says, a little too quickly. “I’ll be back soon.” She looks around the office and catches a glimpse of her reflection on the dark TV screen mounted on one of the walls. “God, I look terrible,” she mutters, wincing. 

Before you can say anything else, she struts away, her phone and tissues in hand. 

What was that about? You wonder to yourself.

Three weeks had passed since the Instagram incident. After staying extra late at work doing damage control for a few days, things had died down. You were back to reports and emails. Jooheon was still avoiding you, and you saw him less and less. You were lucky if he replied to one of your messages. He must have gotten in so much trouble after the whole fiasco. Jisoo, however, would come to see you quite often, stopping by your desk every few days. You’d ask how she is, and she seemed to be getting better day by day. She didn’t bring you dinner like Jooheon did, but you were glad you had someone was there to interrupt your mundane work tasks.

It is 7 pm, and you’re surprised that most of your work is done for the day. You finish off one last email, and power your PC down. You start to leave your cubicle when you hear one of your co-workers talking to someone with a familiar, yet unrecognizable voice. Your name is mentioned somewhere in their conversation, and your co-worker says, “That desk over there.” You decide to stay at your work station, curious as to who would want to see you at this time of night.

A few seconds later, a flash of red pops up from above your cubicle wall. A familiar face beams down at you.

“Wonho?” you say, blinking at him. You’d never actually met him in person, and you were not quite prepared for the charisma that oozed from him. He hadn’t even spoken to you yet.

“Hey!” he greets you loudly. “I can’t believe I finally get to meet you!”

You stare at him. “‘Finally’?”

He comes round to the side of your cubicle, and you see that he is dressed in a tight compression shirt and sweat pants. You feel your heart rate increase significantly. “Are you busy now?” he inquires, looking at your desk, then back at you.

You motion to your PC screen. “Ah, no, I was just actually finished for the day.”

“Great!” Wonho chirps, grabbing your wrist. You’re too dumbfounded to resist. “Come to the studio with me.”

He jogs out of your department with you in tow. One of your co-workers looks at you questioningly, and you just shrug helplessly in return.

You look around the studio, amazed by all the equipment you see. You’re too afraid to touch anything, so when Wonho tells you to take a seat, you make yourself as tiny as you can, taking up as least space as possible. Wonho takes a seat next to you, and beams at you.

“Jooheon can’t stop talking about you,” Wonho says, grinning at you.

You’re not sure of how you should reply. Luckily, someone enters the recording booth, and you see the lights in it turn on from the other side of the glass. It’s Jooheon. He sees you from the other side of the glass, and he gives you a reluctant smile. He then looks at Wonho, and he holds up a piece of paper.

“Ah, right!” Wonho exclaims. He reaches over to the desk next to the couch, and grabs a sheet of paper. He then hands it to you.

Before you can ask why you have to hold it, an instrumental track starts to play. From the other side of the glass, Jooheon places a pair of headphones around his ears. Then he starts to sing along to the instrumental track.

You look down at the sheet and realize that they are lyrics - specifically, they are lyrics to the song Jooheon is singing. The lyrics are in second person, and the song is about the narrator having a hard time confessing their feelings to the person they love. You feel a tightness in your chest as you realize that this song is exactly how you feel about Jooheon, and you’re amazed at how he can capture your exact thoughts so eloquently in a song. Then, the chorus hits.

Late nights and black bean noodles

I don’t know how else to say it

To tell you how much I like you

Just let me have as many

Late nights and black bean noodles 

As I possibly can

Your head spins and your heart starts pounding loudly in your chest. Was this… a confession? You listen to the rest of the song, and by the end of it, you’re almost hyperventilating. You look up from the sheet of paper, and you see Jooheon taking off his headphones. He is completely red in the face, and he keeps blinking at you. You turn to Wonho, who is leaning back into the couch, a slightly smug smirk on his face.

The door to the studio opens and Jooheon enters. He walks up to you, fiddling with the piece of paper in his hands. It reminds you of the first time he introduced himself to you.

“So… what do you think? You want to get some black bean noodles tonight?”

You laugh and throw your head back. “Oh my god, Jooheon! All this time, I thought you hated me!”

He stares at you, his mouth open in a gape. “What?”

“Never mind,” you say standing up. “Of course I’d love to get some noodles with you.”

Jooheon smiles and rubs the back of his neck. He looks almost… shy. 

“But… I have a confession to make,” you say slowly.

Jooheon stares at you again. “Wh-what is it?”

“I’m actually sick of black bean noodles now. I was hoping we could have sweet and sour pork instead.”

Jooheon scrunches up the lyrics in his hand. “I wrote a whole song about black bean noodles and now you’re sick of them?!”

You and Wonho laugh, and you place a hand on Jooheon’s arm in an attempt to placate him.

“Keep it,” you tell Jooheon. “‘Sweet and sour pork’ just doesn’t sound as catchy.”

[gryffvndors]

in the cal-zone [draco malfoy]

request: “45, 55, 119, 179 and 318 for Draco? Of course, you don't have to use all of them, but I think it would be awesome if you did any combination of them, because I feel like they work well together. I also wanted to let you know I loved your Draco fic- you're an amazing writer and you've got yourself a new follower! <3″ - @quills-and-quaffles

word count: ~1700

a/n: guess who’s back, back again - it me back w more draco malfoy, the slytherin asshole who i love and hate at the same time! thank u requester for ur lovely compliments!!! thank u for following a lame teen like yours truly (,: also sorry i only did 2 of them yeet i just felt like they went together really well! an additional sorry for changing “i love u, u arsehole” to “i luv u, u arsehole” even tho i’m not rlly sorry. (: i hate myself for this title even tho i laughed like a hyena when i came up with it now enjoy this - i’m hungry for calzones *ben wyatt look into camera*

55: “have i entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?”

119: “i love you, you asshole.” 

“Mr. Thomas,” you smile, lacing your fingers across the counter. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

It’s a slow day. You love slow days. Fewer people are hurt, you don’t have to deal with heartbroken families and friends, you have idle time to read, sometimes you are able to take a long lunch and go out with your boyfriend. Then again, you also have a slew of people who have a sixth sense, really, about when these slow days occur, and then make it their life’s goal to ruin them for you. For example, the elderly man in bright yellow standing before you, glasses askew, mouth twisted into a scornful frown, wand in the front pocket of his dress robes.

Why is he wearing dress robes?

“Yes, hello, girl,” he frowns, squinting at your name badge. Noticing how his beady eyes narrow in disapproval, you glance down and straighten it. “What does that say again? My eyesight is sore.”

Plastering a (probably strained) smile on your face, you repeat your name for possibly the hundredth time in the year you’ve been working at St. Mungos as a Healer’s secretary. If your calculations are correct, that’s roughly twice a week that he enters and forgets your name. You mean, you’re no good with names, either, but come on. “...Right,” he says a few seconds later. “I’ve seen your face before, I think.”

“I have assisted you every single week this past year, Mr. Thomas,” you remind him cheerfully. “What can I do for you?”

Mr. Thomas eyes you, scoffing, and shakes his head. “I need my potion. Why else would I be here?”

‘Here we go,’ you think as you take a deep breath and prepare yourself for the oncoming verbal onslaught you’re about to receive. “Mr. Thomas,” you begin hesitantly, “as I have said before, and have said every visit you pay us-” you register his deepening frown and try to lighten your sarcasm a bit, “we do not give out potion prescriptions. We may issue them, but you will either have to go to an apothecary to fill them, or brew them yourself. I might suggest Diagon Alley’s apothecary, as I am friendly with the Potions Master who works there. If you are closer to Hogsmeade, then I recommend that apothecary as well. There are also apothecaries littered throughout Muggle Great Britain if you know where to look.”

His scowl deepens. For a fleeting second, you think the ends of his mouth might go under his chin. “I do not want to go to Scotland or London or go looking for half-arsed apothecaries in between Muggle shops. I came here for a reason. I need my potion, you stupid girl, how do you have a job here? How are you not fired or terminated for being completely rubbish at what you do for a living? How-”

“Mr. Thomas,” a crisp, cool voice behind him utters. Your heart flips at the sound of it. Mr. Thomas’ expression turns to one of apprehension, and as he steps aside for the man behind him, you crane your neck to look at his face. Your boyfriend stands before you, clad in clean, ironed clothes that, knowing him, most likely cost a fortune. His platinum hair is groomed, but not slicked back - he doesn’t do that anymore, but rather lets it hang in front of his face and runs his hands through it to keep it at bay, like he does when he meets your gaze with his pretty slate eyes. For a millisecond, his sneer twitches into something of a smile, but then changes back once his eyes land on the man you were corresponding with. 

Ah, you forgot that Draco is his boss. A shock of pride shoots through you, making you straighten your posture and stand up taller. “I advise you,” Draco continues icily, “to not speak to my girlfriend in such a manner. Apparate to Diagon Alley, fill your prescription, and return either to work, or your residence. I do remember you Flooing in sick this morning, or am I mistaken?”

Mr. Thomas averts his gaze, huffing softly. “You are not mistaken, Mr. Malfoy. I apologize to you and your partner. Have a nice day.”

“And to you as well, Mr. Thomas, do feel better and I will see you in my office at nine am sharp tomorrow morning. That will be all.” The sneer is a smirk now, which means Draco will be insufferable for the rest of the day. ‘Wonderful,’ you think, your internal voice dripping with sarcasm. You and Draco watch Mr. Thomas storm off, turning the corner to the Apparition point just beyond your line of sight. Once he is out of earshot, you chuckle, leaning forward to rest your chin in your hands.

“Mr. Malfoy,” you muse, a smile playing at your lips, “you are such an arse. You use your powers for evil things.”

“Evil?” Draco raises a blond brow. “My powers? Number one, since when was saving your arse evil? And number two, what powers do I manifest? Do tell,” he mirrors you until your noses are touching and you can see the flecks of light and dark blue in his otherwise grey eyes.

“Well,” you whisper, “maybe not evil. Maybe… trickery. Pranks. Jokes.”

“Standing up for my girlfriend is a prank? A joke?” You continue with ease, “And your powers of intimidation, of course. Draco Malfoy, Intimidating Boyfriend Supreme. You really are a catch, aren’t you? And you’re all mine.”

Draco snorts. He lets a hand run through your hair, tugging it loose from the bun you’ve fashioned it in with a quill. Once it’s down, he pulls you closer by it and kisses you from across the counter. You inch forwards and wrap your arms around his neck, melting into his body and, well, the cold St. Mungos linoleum countertop, but that’s only a small price to pay when you get this much-

“Mr. Malfoy, I appreciate how happy you make my secretary. Really, I do,” wryly comments your boss, Melody, the head Healer in your branch of St. Mungos. You two fly apart, blushing like teenagers caught in the broom closet. “But I would appreciate it more if you save the snogging until after her shift is over or, at the very least, her lunch break begins.”

You sheepishly scratch the back of your neck and bite your lip. “Sorry, Mel…”

Melody balances three vials of what looks like Dreamless Sleep in one hand with the other holding her wand to levitate two chests behind her. She chuckles, rolling her eyes. “It’s fine. There isn’t anybody in here. Besides, I know my word alone cannot keep you two apart.”

Draco clears his throat. “I wanted to inquire-”

“Yes, fine. Go get it out of your system with a long lunch,” Melody waves you two away with her elbow, shaking the vials in the process. One nearly slips, but she gets it at the last moment before you can whip your wand out to catch it in midair. “But if I catch you two at it again this week, Draco will be banned from daytime visits. Banned! I mean it!” She pushes the door open to the actual St. Mungos with her arse and slides through it, letting it swing closed behind her.

You turn to Draco, laughing. “She doesn’t mean it.”

Draco murmurs, “Does she ever?” as he reaches over the side to grab your purse. He slings it over his shoulder and leads you out from behind the desk. You wave a hello to your co-worker, Haley, as she takes your place, chatting with another Healer, Ivan. Ivan and Haley bid you goodbye, only Haley having the politeness to nod to your boyfriend as well as you. Ivan only glances passively at him. You sigh, lacing your fingers with Draco on the way to the Apparition point. Before you can enter for a Side-by-Side, you take him by surprise and wrap your arms around his frame, burying your head in his chest. He hugs you back immediately. You breathe in for a moment, inhaling something that can only be described as “Draco”. It’s clean, pristine, like soap, mixed with his expensive cologne and the sun.

(He likes gardening. Gardening. You think back to your Hogwarts years and imagine angsty, teenage Draco gardening. You can’t, but something about this Draco seems incomplete without his gardening. It’s amazing.)

You mumble into his shirt, “You’re extraordinary.”

“Mmm,” he hums. “I really am.”

You pull away to give him a light slap on the chest. His face breaks out into a huge smile. Your heart warms at the sight of it, a rare, but awe-striking image nonetheless. “Am I in a different universe, or did you really just crack a smile for me?”

“You’re definitely in a different universe, because I do not smile in this one,” he replies, still beaming.

You roll your eyes, biting your lip to restrain yourself from grinning. “I love you, you arsehole. Now,” you say, linking arms with him, “where to for lunch?”

“I was thinking I should take you to that Italian restaurant you wanted to go to the other night,” Draco suggests. “The… Muggle one.”

You blink, surprised. He says the word ‘Muggle’ not like it leaves an unpleasant taste in his mouth, but like something somebody would say when they’re trying to find a replacement for a swear word. Cautiously, warily. You freeze, looking up at him. “...What? Do you not want to go there? We could get something else-”

You snort at how quick he is to retract it. “No, no, I’d love to go there. I’m… proud of you, is all.”

At that, Draco starts chewing on the inside of his cheek. “I’m trying. For you.”

You stand on your toes so you can reach your boyfriend’s face. You press a kiss against his warm, soft lips. It leaves a comforting, familiar feeling in your body, your fingers tingling as you reach up to press them against the sides of his face. When you break away, Draco plants his hands on your waist and leans back down for one more kiss.

“That’s all I could ever ask,” you whisper against his mouth, smiling. After pecking it once more, you hook elbows again, pulling apart for good. “Well, Draco, what kind of thing are you looking to try? Calzones? Pasta? I heard from Tessa their baked ziti is to die for.”

“What is a… calzone?”

A smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth. “You’re in for a treat, Wizard Boy. Come on, I’m starving.”