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adudelol-reblogs · 7 months ago

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undertale oc that i've never heard of before????

tell me NOW

-✨

LMAOO yeah rye :)

oh wow this got long putting this below a . read more <3

so. okay ive been an undertale fan since the game first came out right like i remember looking at the trailers for a new game releasing (2015) and so me and a friend, @scooky2 made ocs together! (Oh my gods scooky sun n rye are nine years old.)

but yes we've had them around for forever, snr (the oc group, stands for Sun aNd Rye, or Sun N Rye), are our ocs. Sun created by Scooky and Rye created by me. They've changed a lot over the past few years, but yknow, as all ocs do <3

So, rye is my beloved baby ray of sunlight . she's a trans gal (she/it/[redacted]), and lives near sun. she's adopted by a poly family, the smiths, and her social worker, stacy, is suns mom!

so thats how sun n rye met when they were. 13ish? Something like that

pretty much they've always been close friends, and sun has punched several transphobes whove been mean to rye LMAO

OH a note here: rye is pronounced like "Ray". She named herself to match Sun (Sunray, a ray of sun, etc) and i just find that so wholesome i love them your honour

Um. Pretty much when they're like,,, 19? 20? I don't exactly remember, but one day when they were walking on a trail they fell into mt ebbott into the underground

sun has a bravery? soul? I think? bravery yeah the orange one, and rye has the typical determination red soul. they kinda go through the underground like normal, until theeee undyne fight, where sun dies. rye freaks out and panics, causing her to also die BUT!

as the DT soul, she is sent to this voidlike place for a moment. in the distance, she can hear a voice talking to her, and it tells her to just believe in herself. and she comes back to her last save point!

rye loves her honorary sister, and so she leaves without sun and fights undyne. during this, rye feels like the only thing she can do here is to kill undyne to save sun so yeah . rip o7

throughout the story rye dies a bunch more times, and each time she finds herself in the void place, the voice getting louder and louder until one time she sees its some weird, melted goopy skeleton monster (gaster!)

i dont exactly remember everything said, but the point is during the first run, gaster built up his trust with rye, and when she fights asgore, gaster convinces her to reset (aren't you curious? find out what else could happen?) (you promised you would save me. how can you do that without learning more information?) (do what i tell you. don't you trust me? im showing you how to use your soul. your determination) all that kinda stuff

so rye agrees, resets and resets and resets doing dozens and dozens of different things -- genocide, killing everyone besides one specific monster, only kill this one, seeing how everything reacts. but the one thing, the one thing rye would never do was hurt sun

(don't you trust me, rye? killing sun might be the one thing that can unlock this information. trust me, she won't even remember it. she wont know it even happened)

the one thing rye would never was hurt sun, before.

sun.... it was always a quick, painless death. at least, rye hoped it was. rye still loved her sister, but... she needed to know after all, right?

eventually sans manages to convince rye that he remembers everything blah blah and that rye is being manipulated by gaster, that she doesnt have to do this

and rye, tired of the resets, tired of killing sun or hurting sun over and over and over stops. she fights against gaster, telling him to leave her alone and that she's not playing his game anymore

so, she finally gets to her pacifist route. she finally did it, but... there isn't enough human souls to break the barrier. so both rye and sun are stuck down here until frisk (who in our oc would is not a DT soul, since we have the lore that only one DT soul can exsist at once) comes down and the barrier is broken by frisk

thats the overall story done!

oh i totally forgot to mention this. but both sun n rye are humans at the start of this story. sun is part phoenix (oc monster race we have), and part giant (also oc monster race). she looks human though, and game-wise, is human with human stats in everything until around sometime in waterfall, where she falls off a cliff or something and nearly dies -- but the monster part of her soul unlocks and she transforms into her monster form (which is birdlike -- wings on her back, eyes change, feathers, etc).

rye, on the other hand, is human. but remember stacy? suns mom, rye's social worker?

stacy is part giant, and has been around since before the monsters were locked into mt ebbott. stacy had gotten away, just looking like a tall lady to most of the world, and every couple decades she has to move to get a new ID+keep up the act of being human since, after 50 years, how do you still look 20 LMAO

but yes, stacy is a monster. and she had given rye this one magical item -- that if rye was ever in serious trouble, yes, use this.

well, in the underground, rye went through several life or death serious situations, and had used the device -- it unlocks even more of the DT in her soul, transforming her into her monster form.

Rye becomes a medusa like creature, legs shifting into one long snake tail, and hair turning into a mass amount of snakes. when she was being manipulated by gaster, she learned that her human form did more damage to monsters, so she never used it often.

but once she realized she was stuck down here, she found out that the snake form felt more comfortable as long as she wasn't outside in snowdin (due to the cold). so she ends up spending most of her time in her medusa form, because well

i should say . snr are oc x canon. we made them when we were younger and idk that its cringe now cringe is dead etc etc but

but yes, oc x canon, and the canon characters? ...sans and papyrus. though sun and sans is romantic, rye and papyrus are a qpr :D

but yeah like i was saying . rye spends most of her time in her snake form because it also just makes sans feel idk like safer? that when she was being manipulated, when she was killing monsters, she did so in her human form and her snake form was her willing to be weaker yknow

anyways uh . wow this is long i just rambled

sorry if like none of this makes sense LMAO i didnt realized how long this is oh my gods

#adude.talks #adude.asks #adude.noots #adude.ocs #<- new tag ig?#sparkle anon #snr #<- my tag for them ! i dont make posts about them often but i do reblog posts and use that tag for things that remind me of them if ur--#--interested #if you want i can also make another thing about the overworld lore that we have #like stacy n the smiths or whatever #or our oc races !!#i have a dragon?y? race as well made for u/t but its not mentioned here

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tyravenholme · 1 year ago

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So, decided to get back into game development and have been inspired by various PSX/N64 styled games like Legend 64 and Bloodborne PSX / Bloodborne Kart, and the last one produced a series of thoughts that I had to share.

First is brief and it was about how cool it was that there are devs out there who are making games in these sorts of styles, including those who take existing modern games and give them a classic retro spin in the form of a demake of some kind.

But the big one that got me and the one I want to expand upon because it's so much fun is Bloodborne Kart and how the dev, Lilith Walther, initially made an April's Fools video where they were going to make a Bloodborne Kart out of the Bloodborne PSX Game they were making. It made me wonder just what other games could you not only do a demake of but also somehow give a Kart spin off, and because I've been on a Metal Gear kick, of course my brain started to wonder

"What if Metal Gear had a Kart Combat Racing spin off?"

Immediately, I thought about all the different Metal Gears and their pilots as being potential drivers with karts.

Liquid Snake drives Metal Gear Rex.

Liquid Ocelot drives Metal Gear Ray.

Col. Volgin drives the Shagohod.

Those feel like the obvious ones, like the Hunters in Bloodborne Kart driving motorbikes, of which there are a few and is very fitting given the aesthetics of Bloodborne, but the Dev went above and beyond by also including other characters with karts that are a little more unique and fun. Gerhman uses his Wheelchair with a booster as his kart. The Doll uses a Carriage. Mergo, the invisibile baby, uses it's own stroller which is not even the most insane one in the game (so far) because I feel that goes to Micolash who just straight up runs.

So, going the same route in this fun brainstorm, what silly options are there in the Metal Gear universe beyond the obvious "villain drives a Metal Gear"

Vulcan Raven rides a Tank in MGS and I can't help but think of a super fast tank flocked by ravens being a really cool visual for a Kart.

Raiden in his cyborg ninja get up from Rising Revegeance just screams to me that he doesn't even need a Kart, he could run super fast on those robot legs of his.

Snake is tricky because he doesn't really drive many vehicles in game, not to mention there's like several versions of him. Solid Snake. Naked Snake. Old Snake. Phantom Snake.

So let's do all of them because why not.

Solid Snake? Well, he does ride a Snow Mobile at the end of MGS 1 so that's an option and there is a joke ending where Otacon rides with him on the back of it so maybe we can pair them together as that would be funnier?

Naked Snake? Little harder, the only thing I can think of is him riding shotgun with EVA in her motorbike with sidecar, him just standing on top of it and helping make hard turns by leaning on one side or another.

Old Snake? To be honest, I haven't played MGS4 yet so I don't know if there's a land vehicle he drives.

Phantom Snake? This one is a no brainer. D-Horse. Just has to be, come on.

What about any other villains beyond the finale bosses and some obvious ones like Vulcan Raven who is already driving a vehicle?

Well, taking a cue from Bloodborne Kart and German, there's The End from MGS3 who briefly spends time in a Wheelchair so now we have an excuse to have an old man in a hyper fast wheelchair in this hypothetical Metal Gear Kart game.

I honestly can't believe it took me until after all of these others to remember this character even existed, but Fatman from MGS2 on his freaking Roller Blades I think is a perfect fit for this sort of concept. He's already ready to roll for goodness sake.

Is there a point to all of this, like am I gonna make this game? Heck no, I only just got back into game development and I am still very much a beginner, but it's sort of stuff that makes me excited, having an idea and just rolling with it and seeing it get bigger and bigger and everything just sort of works, fitting perfectly together like a jigsaw puzzle.

The idea is dumb and silly, but it's super fun to think about and it's fun to think about other games/franchises and just wondering "what if this game had a spin off that played like this" doesn't even have to be a Kart racing game. Could be anything and making it work is the fun part.

I've rambled enough now and I should probably get back to learning stuff because I really want to make some games and get them out there in the world now -- obviously not gonna be for a long while before that happens, but hey, gotta have goals, y'know.

#bloodborne #bloodborne psx #bloodborne kart #legend 64 #metal gear #metal gear solid #brainstorm

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understandableparadox · 1 year ago

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writing practice day one

"Despite her best efforts, Iris doesn't have a soul."

she stood yards away from the cross roads, the moon high in the air. the chill unnatural in the lazy humid heat of the country side. an icy feeling that traced up their arms as they watched what she knew to be the last car of the night drive past.

she had been watching the road night after night. watching each car and studying their schedules. to see which ones took this pariculer route home and when the meager traffic finally died down. no one would be driving anymore until at least 8 am on their drive to work.

she clutched to her chest the ticket to a life of freedom she was desperate to chase. an old guitar, wood worn and bare of varnish, strings ratty and ready to break.

legend after legend told her exactly what to do. story after story feed her the instructions on what happens at the cross-roads at midnight. it kept getting colder.

she found a good size rock and parked her self there. stareing straight ahead at the winding roads before her. tall grass and stems of baby trees and weeds gently danceing on the breeze. she was starting to shiver now.

she plucked at the chords to pass time as the seconds ticked closer and closer to the witching hour. each chord meandered into the next, hauntingly floating across the still country side air.

she lost track of time quickly as her fingers found sometime to keep her mind occupied, a set of chords that seemed to flow well into each other but only for a bit. each note after sounding dispondent to its set.

a note played from the other side of the road. she froze and glanced over. right on the oppisate side she was playing was someone on a stool, the moon overhead clouded over, ensureing no stray rays of light accidently illuminated the figure, betraying any details to any observers.

she wanted to speak. to state her peice and ask their price yet her voice felt timid. her throat to dry to even consider makeing any conversation. it plucked the same note at her.

it felt random... she tried it in the sequance but it did not belong... it just felt like it did. somewhere in the middle of it, some how connected to the songs beginning and end, yet stuck in the middle.

it plucked the same note.

as time prior seemed to flow by, it seemed stuck now. mired in the growing frustration she felt as she plucked chord after chord, trying to create some sort of bridge to meat that way-ward note.

It plucked the same one, then another.

if it was a hint, it was condescending. but it was a chord regardless, and it did help. it sounded like something she played before, something within the song itself.

a rhythem started to build between them, iris slowly but slowly forgeing something from nothing and the figure on the other side of the road playing yet another chord more as she learned more of her own song.

then they met at the middle. right as iris found the note right before the middle, the figure on the other side started up again. the duet was haunting, buetifully so. it meandered like a soul lost in perdition and sung like its wails of regrets.

her fingers trembled. first light hit the wood of the guitar as she looked up.

she stared across the streets for a few seconds more before sprinting to her car. she was already on borrowed time.

#beginner artist #story writing #writing prompt #creative writing

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ask-team-rfa · 7 years ago

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*on the messenger while keeping updated with Zens' and Jumins' situation*

Admin Devlyn: when you guys get back, lets do a drinking game...

Jumin: what kind of game is this?

Admin Devlyn: everyone has to drink a shot every time Zen says 'lmao' in the chat room 😂

Zen: LMAO WHY

Admin Devlyn: Exactly.

#finally playing baby Ray's route #yes i know I'm slow..#work x online gaming took 200% of my time #Zen lmao too much #especially when he is high on stress from work #mystic messnger #zen #ask team rfa

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expectingtofly · 3 years ago

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finally free, they drive

day 1 of @thiscastielhasflown and i's follower celebration

prompt: diners/roadtrip

Twenty-four years ago in Mankato, Minnesota, Dean killed a wendigo with a bottle of Jack and a lighter. He told Cas this, how the flames lit the inside of the cave and his dad had to drag him out because he suddenly couldn’t move, how he stayed silent for a week even though his dad begged him to speak.

Seventeen years ago, in Monte Vista, Colorado, Dean burned the bones of a malevolent spirit that sliced a gash through his chest before he could swing an iron crowbar through her foggy figure. As he and Cas passed by the cemetery where he and his dad had dug up her remains, he could almost picture himself standing between the tombstones, his dad tossing him the lighter. Do the honors.

In Evanston, Wyoming, he and Cas stopped to eat at a diner that looked vaguely familiar. As they sat down at a booth in the back, waitress handing them their menus, it hit him.

“Pretty sure Sam and I went through here before.” He couldn’t remember what they'd been hunting. “Years ago. After dad. You know. Passed.”

And Cas was silent a moment before replying, "I wish I’d known you then."

Then he declared he wanted the French onion soup from the specials of the day, like he hadn’t just spoken Dean's thoughts aloud in his uncanny way of knowing exactly what Dean wished for before Dean knew it himself.

Sometimes, while passing semi-trailer trucks on the freeway, when the setting sun glinted off the metal partition between west and east-headed traffic, he wondered what life would’ve been like if he knew Cas when he was twenty-six. When he was so lonely, his chest felt like a vise at night, and he slipped out of mildewed motel rooms to gasp in chilly night air. When he sought out crowded bars because accidental nudges and jostles were substitutes for caresses.

What might’ve changed if he'd known Cas when he was twenty-two, when Sam left for college and Dad left with a cutting, Don't look for me. If, confronted with an angel then, he would’ve been able to believe in good things, if he would've kissed him to not feel so alone.

The radio played Dolly Parton at a diner in Des Moines, a young couple sat at the counter, Cas stacked small containers of strawberry jelly and orange marmalade into a tower, and Dean imagined sitting across from him when he was nineteen. But then Cas looked up at him triumphantly over perfectly balanced preserves, and the what-if's dissolved in a growing warmth in his chest. Cas had been right after all. Good things did happen.

They drove without a destination now that they didn’t need one, changing course frequently, turning off exits to follow signs for roadside attractions, homestyle meals, and scenic overlooks.

Prairie and forest, coast and desert. He'd traveled these roads before, but he was paying attention now. Everything looked different with Cas sitting by his side, when every glance to his right revealed Cas already looking at him.

Re-heated diner leftovers and slices of pie for breakfast, crumbs on the bed, brown bags in the backseat, lunch breaks at rest stops, sitting on the hood to unwrap grease-stained burger wrappers, kept warm from the sun coming through the car’s windows.

Baby had been his home for years. He'd learned her nooks, her curves, how best to settle on the benchseat and tuck his jacket against the door to wake without a crick in his neck.

Moving into the bunker, he'd claimed a room, made a space for every item he owned: a hook for every weapon, a box for every photo, a hanger for every jacket. The concrete walls and sterile bathrooms meant order, control.

He used to be afraid that if he let one item fall out of place, he'd lose his grip on the delicate thread which held him together.

Crackling radio in Omaha, searching for a station. Cassette-tapes pulled out of a box that he hadn’t rifled through since a time when angels were still a myth, god didn’t exist, and death was always close, but not someone they knew by name. Black Sabbath, Motorhead, Metallica. Then, out of Cas' pocket, his own “Top 13 Zepp Traxxs,” which he was surprised to learn Cas still kept, the words on the label faded.

“It was a gift,” Cas said, tucking the cassette into the deck and turning up the volume.

Busy diners where their food took ages to come to their table and Dean doodled on napkins to pass the time. Stuffed them into his pocket and forgot until he pulled them out while looking for change to pay for gas. A tiny Impala, a sun with dashes for rays, sigils, tiny flowers which Cas had added to the corners.

An argument on I-70 and sixty-two miles of tense silence. "If you don't speak to me, I can't understand," Cas said, voice quiet under the whir of tires on the road.

Dean changed lanes, watched a tarp flap over the bed of a pick-up truck. "I don't know how," he admitted.

Cas let out a breath that sounded like relief. "We'll learn."

He learned Cas liked brightly colored shirts labeled with the names of locations they visited, oversized because tight sleeves made him itch. He learned that the strangely named items on diner menus had backstories that owners behind counters were all too eager to share when Cas prompted them. He learned Cas hovered in doorways as if he was waiting to be invited inside, learned Cas knew every upbeat song playing over the radio in gas stations, had nightmares too, could stay silent for seventy miles then speak a thought aloud that left Dean stunned for seventy more.

He taught Cas how to pass the time on roads that stretched to the horizon. Name a movie for every letter of the alphabet. Name three items you'd take to a deserted island. Name everyone we've lost along the way—he didn't mean to begin talking about them, but they seemed closer than ever before on the open road, under a vast, cloudless sky. The wind whisked their names from their mouths, and Dean liked the idea of them still existing, here, around them.

A map open on his lap, Cas circled every town they stopped at, traced their route with a red pen. Folded and unfolded the page until the creases made the snaking lines nearly illegible. "I want to remember," he told Dean, and Dean traced the creases to feel their route under his finger. The steering wheel was warm under his palms, the diner floors sticky under his boots, the motel sheets stiff when he pulled them back from the headboard, and he told Cas, "Pinch me," in the dark of an eighty-dollar-a-night room. Cas touched his face and kissed him instead.

The rocky coast off of Oregon delighted Cas. He rolled up his pant legs, clutched Dean's hand as they walked unsteadily over the slippery rocks to step into the Pacific Ocean. The wind whipped his hair over his face and he pushed back the strands, grinning back at Dean. Sometimes at night, when Cas slept curled into him, Dean looked at the photo he'd taken of him and wished he had a place of their own to frame it.

Long phone calls to family and friends who told them to take their time, do not disturb signs hung on motel doorknobs, winding backroads and detours. He grew out his hair and told Cas he needed a cut. Cas twisted his fingers through the strands, and mused, "I like it." Dean kept it and noticed the strands curled at the ends.

A sign on the highway in Ohio read, "Hell is Real." He still had nightmares. As cornfields passed, Cas recounted seeing his soul for the first time, and sometimes Dean imagined he remembered the safety of Cas' wings as he pulled him out of the depths of Hades.

Cas got sick in Idaho, complained, voice echoing in the toilet bowl, "I told you that diner was not sanitary." Dean rubbed his back and told him he'd write a scathing review. In West Virginia, over a pile of spilled salt and stale fries that were probably nuked behind the counter, Cas told him he loved him. It wasn't for the first time, but his breath still caught in his throat.

They ate fried okra in Oklahoma City, beignets in New Orleans, and Dean requested Earth Angel on a jukebox in a vinyl and chrome diner in Wisconsin. Slid into the booth to press against Cas' side and watch him fill out postcards. Did you know dinosaurs once roamed where the Rockies now stand? Don't know when we'll be back. We bought new cassettes to add to the collection and I convinced Dean to let me choose the music. Still so much we haven't seen.

The magic fingers bed at the King's Court Motel cost four quarters for fifteen minutes—three more than when he was younger, he griped to Cas. The vibrating massage didn't seem quite as relaxing as he remembered, but maybe he was just used to more magical fingers—this he accompanied with an exaggerated wink which made Cas roll his eyes.

The Impala broke down on Route 66, and the asphalt radiated heat as he ducked under the hood. Cas hovered at his side and he realized he didn't have the tools to fix her.

They ate lunch at a mom-and-pop’s restaurant as they waited for the mechanic to finish, and Cas gave him the pickle from his sandwich. "I'm sorry I never asked you to stay," Dean told him and wished he'd said it earlier. "I never wanted you to leave."

Cas gave him a sad smile. "It's in the past." He tapped his foot against Dean's under the table, and Dean hooked his ankle with his foot.

Cas parted the curtains in every motel they slept in, tilted his face to the sun beaming through the windshield, urged Dean to stop for a cardboard sign reading Fresh Strawberries $2. Reruns of The Three Stooges made Dean laugh until he wiped tears from the corners of his eyes, had to catch his breath. This happiness didn't seem so fragile, this time. When they turned on the TV tomorrow night three hundred miles away, The Three Stooges would play into the morning, and when he told Cas he loved him, Cas would say it back.

Crossing over rippling water or curving through wooded land, he and Cas spoke a cabin in the woods, a house on the coast, a home. Dean's head filled with the future instead of the past. Every mile that passed under their tires brought them closer to this dream—or so he thought, until he stopped at a red light, and Cas took his hand, and he realized home sat beside him now.

In a diner in Arkansas, Cas read from a menu, plastic corners curling, and commented, "No matter where we go, every place serves an iceberg wedge salad."

Dean replied, "I think I'm ready to stop driving."

He didn't know where they'd park the Impala for good, but he pictured somewhere with windows, patches of sunlight on the floor. The details didn't matter so much, though, not so long as he had Cas.

"For you to me are the only one," he sang over Robert Plant, glancing at Cas as he turned up the radio, wind whistling through the open windows, road humming under their feet. Happiness, no more be sad, happiness, I'm glad.

#j&kcreatorfest #rambleoncas #shelikestv #user-brooke #userdori #userstarry #tearsofgrace #destiel fic #just some fluff #bc i love the idea of dean and cas taking a long roadtrip after s15 #to bond and work thru stuff #<3 #established dean/cas #expectingtofly writes

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rebelwrites · 4 years ago

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OPERATION: Find The Kids!

Bravo Team x Reader

A/N okay so I saw a TikTok yesterday and this gave me the idea for the chaotic fic you are about to read. Seven tier one navy seals looking after four kids. What could go wrong? So I give you nearly 2k words of utter chaos. Trying to keep track of what 11 people are doing is stressful 😂

Join The Group Chat Here - If You Want Tagging Manually Let Me Know 🖤

SEAL Team Masterlist

This Months Writing

Sipping on your coffee, you ran your hand over your face as you try to finish off the paperwork from the last deployment. You tried to get this done in your home office but it was no good when your house was used as base when the boys were home. Or as Metal kept putting it “the home of Bravo” but it did make your life easier meaning you didn’t have to worry about finding a sitter at short notice as you had at least one of the boys crashing at yours for whatever reason.

And at the moment it was a godsend, especially as you were looking after your Brother’s triplets whilst he was going through the divorce. But having four kids under the age of 7 in the house was chaos, but you lived around big kids all the time so you could just about cope.

“Guys, someone has to take the boss some coffee,” Clay said, as he placed the plate of toast in the middle of the kitchen table. “And to swipe the walkies.”

Everyone fell silent. That silent you could hear a pin drop.

“Oh hell no,” Sonny said, breaking the silence. “You know how she gets when she’s doing the reports. And it was your idea Blondielocks, so you should do it.”

“No way,” Clay exclaimed, “I value my life thank you. “

“Guys let’s settle this like adults,” Metal said, with a serious look on his face. “Rock, paper, scissors. We go around the group and do it as a knock out style thing and whoever is left standing has to take the boss some coffee and swipe the walkies.”

So that's how it was decided that Sonny was the one to go into the lion's den, armed with coffee and breakfast to hopefully make things go smoothly.

“Quinn, I see you.” You said not looking away from your screen.

“How the fuck?” He muttered, “I swear you have eyes in the back of your head.”

“You have to when you look after children,” you laughed, “now I’m busy so what do you want?”

“We know you left without breakfast so I thought I’d bring you some,” he shrugged, placing the food and coffee on the table.

“I don’t buy it,” you said, raising your brow at him. “You are up to something.”

“Nope, just bringing the boss coffee.” He grinned, he had already swiped the walkies and needed to get out of here. “You have a good day, and don’t worry about anything, we have it all under control.”

“That’s what makes me worry Quinn,” you glared. “Just don’t burn my house down and don’t lose a child. That’s all I ask.”

“Hard copy, boss.” He nodded before leaving the room.

“Mission success boys,” Sonny shouted walking back into the house, “Oh and final words from the boss were don't set the house on fire and don’t lose a child but she had no idea I swiped the walkies.”

“Well then, time to gear up boys,” Jase said, slapping his legs as he stood up. “Kids have requested we wear our camo bottoms so hurry up we head out at 0900.”

Twenty minutes had passed and everyone was gathered in the living room.

“Right, let's just run through this one more time,” Clay said looking at the list on his phone.

“First aid kit”

“Check”

“Snacks”

“Check”

“Drinks”

“Check”

“Sun cream”

“Check”

“Kids dressed”

“Check”

“All walkies on the same station”

“Check”

“Well boys I think we are ready,” Trent nodded, “So Brock has Cerb and Pepper, I’ve got the bag, so the rest of you get to keep an eye on the kids.”

Your daughter, Riley instantly clung onto Clay like a koala bear, your nephew Joey gravitated to Metal, Sonny scooped up your niece, Amber and Ray took your other Niece, Lola.

“Let’s hit the park,” Jase nodded, leading everyone out the house.

“What could go wrong,” Sonny laughed. “It’s not like we are gonna lose any of them. There’s four of them and seven of us.”

“Don’t say that, you idiot,” Metal said, hitting Sonny around the back of the head. “Don't jinx things, now If things go south it’s your fault.”

“Anyone got have eyes on HVT one?” Jase asked down the walkie, as he scanned the park.

“HVT one is south moving toward the tyre swing,” Metal replied, “I’ve lost eyes on HVT two.”

“I’ve got eyes on HVT two, she is in need of refilling. Lure her back to base Three,” Clay said, as he squinted from the sun.

“Copy six,” Sonny called, as he calmly headed for Amber, who thought this was the best game in the world as her Uncle Sonny chased her. “HVT two inbound,”

“My eyes are peeled,” Jase laughed, as he spotted Amber running towards him.

“For the love of god don’t forget the suncream.” Ray responded.

“Copy that,” Jase said, routing around the bag for supplies. He literally only took his eyes off her for two seconds but by the time he looked up she was gone. “All call signs I have lost eyes on HVT two. I repeat I have lost eyes on HVT two.”

“I don’t have HVT three or four,” Brock sighed “They just vanished.”

“Is HVT one still at the tyre swing?” Ray asked.

“Fuck, she’s gone to.” Metal cursed.

“Guys we fucked up, boss is gonna kill us if we don’t come home with a full head count.” Ray breathed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Three you know this is your fault,” Metal growled.

“How is it my fault?” Sonny snapped. “You're the one meant to be watching HVT One.”

“You jinxed things, idiot,” Metal huffed, “Told you this would happen.”

“Guys, stop fighting,” Jase sighed, “Look just everyone reconvene at base and we put a plan together, they can’t have gone far.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, you knew Sonny was up to something when he came in this morning but the big idiot forgot to pick up all the walkies meaning you could hear everything.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you messed with the station trying to get a clearer sound. You wanted to see how this would play out, they all sounded pretty panicked but they should be. One of the rules was they could do whatever, go wherever but just don’t lose anyone.

“You okay Y/L/N?” Eric asked coming into the briefing room with some fresh coffee.

“Define okay when the boys are looking after the tribe today, Sonny managed to swipe the walkies and now somehow they have managed to lose all four kids at the park,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Well at least they had the sense to get the walkies I suppose,” Eric laughed, “you know they will have a full head count by the end of the day, they won’t leave until they do.”

“I know,” you laughed, “but I’m gonna get them back.”

“How the fuck have we managed to lose four kids,” Clay said running his hand over his face. “I don’t get it,”

“Because children like to fucking run off,” Jase snapped. “Look, we don’t need to go into how it happened, it happened. Let’s just work the problem and get these kids back before we all get brutally killed. Operation find the kids is a go.”

“Riley likes water right?” Trent asked.

“Yeah, she’s a proper water baby, why do you ask?” Clay questioned.

“She might have gone towards the lake.” Trent nodded.

“Right, Clay and Brock head to the lake and try to get Riley. We all know you are her favourite Uncle Clay so she might actually come back to you.” Ray said, making a call. “We divide and conquer boys.”

“Copy,” Brock and Clay nodded, before running off in the direction of the lake.

“What about Joey?” Trent asked.

“The woods definitely,” Jase nodded.

“I’m on it,” Metal nodded before disappearing.

“Okay so that leaves Amber and Lola.” Jase said.

“Fuck I have no idea,” Ray sighed. “They are both so quiet.”

“We are just gonna have to split up.” Sonny said, “we will find them.”

Two hours had passed and everyone apart from Brock and Clay were back at base. Three out of the four kids had been located and now sitting on the grass with Metal eatting some cookies.

“I’m gonna need a medic,” Clay said, his voice full of panic and cry’s could be heard in the background.

“How far out are you?” Jase replied.

“About 5 mikes,” Brock replied.

Clay looked down at Riley in his arms, she was screaming and the tears kept coming.

“Hey Riley-roo, it’s okay, Uncle Clay has got you. You are gonna be okay.” Clay cooed trying to calm down his god daughter.

“What’s the sitrep?” Trent asked.

“Not sure if it’s a broken wrist or just a sprain. She fell pretty hard on it whilst running.” Clay sighed down the walkie. “It’s official boys, we are dead meat when the boss gets home.”

The house was quiet when you got home, far too quiet. The only sound was the hum from the TV but even that was on low volume. Quickly glancing in the kitchen you rolled your eyes at the state of it. It looked like a bomb had gone off. There were plates and mugs everywhere along with McDonald’s discarded wrappers.

Quietly you walked into the living room to see all the kids awake and all the boys fast asleep on the sofas. Riley was tucked under Clay’s arms, Joey was laying across Metal and Brock, Amber was sat in between Jase’s legs and Lola was tucked under Ray’s arms.

“Mummy” Riley grinned as she saw you. “Look what I got,” she giggled, waving her casted wrist in the air.

“What happened baby?” You asked, crouching down to her level.

“I tripped and broke my wrist.” She pouted, “But Uncle Clay took me to the hospital.”

“Well it looks like you all wore your Uncles out today,” you laughed, “but just cover your ears for me kiddos.”

Once they all covered their ears with their hands, you pushed yourself to your feet.

“Wake up you lazy shits!” You shouted, startling them all awake. “Did we have a good day?” You asked playing dumb.

“Yeah it was amazing,” Jase nodded. “We went to the park.”

“So you did lose any of the kids?” You asked, placing your hand on your hip.

“Nope,” Clay said, with a sheepish smile on his face.

“Well can someone explain this?” You said, pressing play on the recording.

The whole room fell quiet as they heard the conversation playback from early.

“So wanna change your answer boys?” You glared. “I only have two rules and you fucking broke one of them. And my daughter has a bloody broken arm!”

“Sorry, boss.” Sonny mumbled, not making eye contact.

“You better be you idiots,” you laughed, “At least you came home with a full head count. Now Clay move, you are in my seat.”

Once Clay had moved, you settled down in your spot.

“Oh and another thing, I’ve had a long ass day typing up all the incident reports from J-Bad, I swear your band list gets longer each deployment,” you laughed, “but I’m not happy about the state of my kitchen so you can all get in there and sort it out.”

“Yes, boss.” They all said, making you smirk. Not many people could make Bravo team sulk off with their tail between their legs but you could and it always made you laugh.

“And someone make me a bloody coffee, because I am not moving off this sofa for the rest of the night”

@chibsytelford @mrsmarvelous1995 @supervalcsi @talicat713 @disasterfandoms @bravo-four-seal-team @jasonbabymama @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @lotsoflovefromlea @seik-o @velvetcardiganbucky @phoenixhalliwell @pancakeisreading @itsonautopilot @pinkrockstar19 @galaxysanduniversesinmymind @softi92 @abby-splace @theysayitscrazy @thelovelyleo23 @innerpaperexpertcloud

#seal team #seal team x reader #seal team imagine #seal team oneshot

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primasveraas-writing · 3 years ago

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"Kent v Linebacker" -Ted Lasso

Roy's knee is fucked. This is well known.

His fucking monster child, who he loves, accidentally fucks it up more. Such is life.

Part 2 // Accompanying AU

WORDS: 2631

XXX

Their first son is “built like a linebacker,” according to Ted Lasso. Roy shows his usual disdain at the reference to the wrong type of football, but Keeley wearily agrees- she was, after all, the one who carried then delivered their 10-pound baby.

Most people see their son and suggest rugby instead of football, even as they pile tiny Kent jerseys and footballs onto the new parents. Roy insists he doesn’t give a damn if their child wants to play rugby or football or join the damn chess club, but he also tears up the first time Keeley puts him in a tiny (or maybe just small) Richmond jersey.

Because of the way Roy and Keeley are, they balance each other out. Marriage and parenthood come to them relatively smoothly, save for typical growing pains and bumps in the road. But they figure it out, at least for the most part.

One of the more persistent bumps is Roy’s knee. Because, while he was forced to walk away from playing football, Roy is reluctant to accept other limitations. He’ll run or dance or carry around the baby’s new crib, and then swear and pop his knee back into place as needed. Doctors eventually find this out and inform him that this is, in fact, bad. Roy Kent tells them to fuck off. He doesn’t echo this sentiment when Keeley suggests that they’re right.

Because, as usual, she seems to have a point. It doesn’t always take a miles-long Christmas day walk or a rom-com style sprint to Ted Lasso to fuck up Roy’s knee. Somedays, it’s going down the stairs one too many times. Or standing up long enough to make Keeley a fancy dinner. Or jumping around in the coaches’ box after a Richmond win. So Roy concedes this matter, and anyway, he doesn’t particularly enjoy moving his kneecap around or Phoebe’s and Keeley’s face when he does so.

Roy scales back, reluctantly and unhappily. He does modified yoga with the moms and they suggest stretches to help him. Roy doesn’t push himself nearly as much, and so the pain in his daily life decreases.

Then Roy becomes a father, and then his son becomes a toddler.

Oliver is a fucking ray of sunshine. He’s inherited Keeley’s bubbly personality, something evident from his first dazzling smile and the peals of laughter that soon follow. When he starts to talk, he does so incessantly, and he puts every ounce of his energy into babbling and running literal circles around his parents. Even Keeley- even Ted Lasso, occasional babysitter- struggle to keep up. But Roy and Keeley and the Richmond team do their level best to entertain and supervise him, and it works.

Then, because they’re fucking daft, Roy and Keeley decide they want another fucking monster to turn their lives all upside down.

Oliver is three when they tell him he’s going to be a big brother. He’s overjoyed, then he cries, then he’s comforted, then he’s overjoyed again. Roy is the happiest he’s ever fucking been with his son, and Keeley pregnant, and then life comes along and fucks it all up again.

Father and son are just home from preschool, Oliver restarting his long-winded recap of his day when he sees Keeley. Roy hobbles through the door behind him, grinning at Keeley for half a second. She beams back at him, then returns her attention to their child, brows furrowing as she tries to decipher his somewhat senseless story.

Roy’s standing by Keeley’s side, hand on her shoulder as they listen the best they can. Oliver reaches a part of his tale that’s especially exciting- something about cupcakes and a classmate’s birthday, and he gives a shout, then springs up with his arms spread wide, and-

-forty pounds of force collide with Roy’s bad leg. He hears Keely gasp, which is what registers first, then his vision goes white as pain overtakes him, and he feels himself falling.

He opens his eyes a moment later, and Keeley is crouching at his side awkwardly, the swell of her stomach hindering her. Oliver gives a noise that indicates he’s probably about to cry, and Roy shushes him through a groan.

“Fuck,” Roy says, his voice strained. “I’m okay.”

Keeley purses her lips, which indicates she’s well aware of his lie, but she draws Oliver against her side, rubbing circles into his back as she takes Roy’s hand.

“It hasn’t been this bad before, has it?”

Roy shakes his head. “I think I’m fucked,” he confesses, trying to keep the uncertainty and pain out of his words.

“ER fucked?”

“Fuck no.”

“Can you get up, Roy?” Keeley would sound impatient if not for the way her tone wavers. Roy shifts, babying his leg, and Keeley watches as he winces, cringes, and swears again.

Keeley whispers something to Oliver, and he sniffs loudly before scampering off into the kitchen. His wife stands, unsteady and off-balance, and reaches down to help him. Roy uses only his left leg to rise, trying not to knock Keeley over, and he staggers before grabbing the back of the couch to steady himself. Keeley holds onto his elbow and guides him around so he can sit.

“I’m fucked,” Roy reiterates, and this time, Keeley just nods.

In the end, there’s no ER visit- just a few pulled strings to get Roy into the doctor the next day. Rebecca stops by to deliver crutches and a few bottles of painkillers once Keeley realizes that Roy can’t get to the bathroom- or anywhere else, for that matter- on his own. More reluctantly, Ted is called, and he promises to give Oliver the “best darn sleepover since the movie Sleepover.” Roy isn’t particularly keen on Ted being privy to this particular moment of weakness, but Ted leaves with Oliver quickly enough, and Keeley’s pretty sure that even just a few minutes of exposure to Ted is enough to force some positivity into Roy’s outlook, and for that, she’s grateful.

Roy sleeps on the couch that night, as stairs are out of the question. Even if he could manage to struggle up them, he can only imagine coming back down via a painful fall. He’s alone, too, because, despite Keeley’s protests, he’s not about to let his pregnant wife sleep anywhere but a proper bed.

He lies awake long after kissing and texting Keeley goodnight, and he contemplates the quiet of the house and the apparent severity of the situation. The doctor had wanted Roy to come in today, but she didn’t throw a fit when he insisted he could wait. Instead, he’ll see her tomorrow, first thing, and Ted will take his son to school, and Keeley and Roy will both miss work for Roy’s least-favorite type of doctor’s appointment.

“You dislocated your kneecap again,” Doctor Patel explains, gesturing to an x-ray of a very fucked up knee. “The first time, you twisted it.” She points to a slightly less fucked up x-ray. “But continually dislocating your knee weakened the ligaments. So, when Oliver collided with you, your ACL and meniscus tore completely.”

“That’s why it hurt so damn much.”

Patel nods, then sighs. “You mentioned chronic pain worsening over time- you did everything right, trying to keep it at bay, but this- along with additional trauma- can worsen a knee injury.”

Roy grunts. He expected as much. The first doctor he saw after his final match had warned of this, along with things like arthritis and all sorts of complications. His main worry was that his football career was over, and there was nothing he could do about that, so any accompanying outcomes seemed unimportant.

He was wrong, apparently.

“It’s not unusual for these injuries to get worse over time. Especially when you’re not gentle with yourself. But, your symptoms are indicative of severe tearing. I’m also worried about nerve damage.”

“So what do we do now?”

Keeley is the one who asks, gripping Roy’s hand. He glances at her, then squeezes her hand.

Patel hesitates. Roy likes this doctor- her knowledge and honesty have been extremely comforting to both him and Keeley over the years. She doesn’t take bullshit, not even Roy’s, and he appreciates that about her.

But it’s unusual for her to hesitate.

“I believe our best option is open knee surgery,” she says, and her eyes soften when Roy’s jaw clenches. “There are other routes we can pursue, but we’re at a point where they may not be as effective.

“What are they?”

“We can do more tests and try an arthroscopic surgery or other minimally invasive options, but-”

Roy tunes her out. He’s the last football player of his generation- he’s seen everyone he played with at the beginning of his career retire, and the various injuries that forced this fate upon his fellow footballers. Open knee surgery is a big fucking deal. Especially since he’s not a fucking grandma.

“It’s a long fucking recovery time,” Roy says finally.

A nod.

“We have a baby due in three months.” This time, Keeley squeezes Roy’s hand.

“If all goes well, you’ll be walking unassisted by then. Enough for midnight diaper changes, so long as you don’t sprint into the nursery.”

“And it’ll work best?”

“I can say with reasonable confidence that your case is severe enough to warrant this surgery, and that the other surgeries aren’t typically successful in similar cases.”

“Fuck. Let’s do it.”

They schedule surgery for a few days later, which is a quick turnaround, but it’s enough time for two Richmond matches to take place. The first falls on the day after Roy’s doctor visit, and the second one is the day of the surgery. This gives him pause- Roy’s first and longest love is football, and he’s loath to step away, even for a week. But he thinks of Oliver, hesitant to hug his father when they get home, and Keeley, sneaking glances at him as if expecting him to break when she’s not looking.

Roy trudges- or limps- forward. He stays home for the first Richmond match and tries to ignore Keeley scrolling through Twitter with a worried look on her face. They had debated what would be worse- to miss the match with no explanation, or for Roy to show up on crutches and in obvious pain. In the end, the desire for privacy (and maybe easing Roy’s discomfort) won out, and Keeley and Roy and Oliver watch the match from their living room. Roy and Oliver shout at the TV, and Keeley livetweets, and it’s okay until the post-match conference.

“Coach Lasso! Roy Kent was missing from the coaches’ box tonight. Can you explain why? Has there been a professional change or has something personal occurred?”

Ted holds up a hand, stemming the reporter’s flow of questions. He smiles at her easily, but Roy knows that no matter what Ted says, there’ll be speculation. A nonanswer is still an answer, but they decided as a team to keep the public in the dark as long as possible, to maintain any privacy Roy has.

“Roy and his family are jus’ fine, thank you. As far as I know, Roy hasn’t decided to leave our coaching team, so we’re all good there.” Ted clears his throat, and Roy wonders if his mentor is uncomfortable telling half-truths to the press. “Roy needed some personal time away, but I expect you’ll be seeing him back again shortly. Thanks.”

“Well, that wasn’t complete shit,” Roy muses in near-approval. Keeley hums noncommittally.

“No,” she agrees, pleased. “And I livetweeted the whole thing so nobody thinks one of us is dying.”

“Perfect,” Roy says, satisfied. So long as they don’t get hounded on the way to the hospital. He looks down at his lap, where Oliver is curled against him, fast asleep. Roy moves slightly so that he can wrap his arm around his son, and sighs.

Keeley looks up at them and grins as she takes in the sight. “Look at my boys,” she says softly, and Roy’s heart melts just a little.

Surgery goes well, and Roy leaves the hospital the same day. His memories of the event and the hours after are fuzzy, but Keeley informs him that he watched the Richmond match while the anesthetic wore off, and proceeded to shout an absolutely incomprehensible mix of words and swears at the TV. Richmond lost, but it was hard fought, and it’s days later when Keeley confesses to Roy that he actually cried once the final result was clear. Roy would be less concerned by this if he could remember it at all, but at the same time, he’s reassured that his plan of being totally unaffected by major surgery and attending the match in person didn’t pan out.

Roy quickly decides he’s utterly useless on crutches, instead letting Oliver expend his energy by fetching things like water and painkillers and phone chargers for his dad. There’s plenty for him to do; Oliver thrives with given purpose, and under the extra attention Roy has to spare. He hates being unable to carry his son, but he can still cuddle with him, and draw with him, and even though Keeley is burdened with bathing and chasing after Oliver, Roy can still fucking help here and there. Like telling Oliver to eat his broccoli or clean up his shit, because vegetables are fucking important and his son isn’t a slob.

His return to Richmond is less smooth. He doesn’t want anybody’s fucking pity, least of all from the boys on the team, or from Ted Fucking Lasso, but instead of the fearful reactions Roy’s used to, Roy’s treated with a gentleness he absolutely fucking despises. Nobody wants to push back against his heightened grumpiness (a side effect of knee surgery is that it fucking hurts and this makes Roy very unhappy), and Ted somehow feels obligated to hang back with him as he limps up to the field each day. His fellow coach also launches into several tirades about his and Beard’s and his great uncle Roger’s various injuries over the years, and Roy ends his first week back feeling, unfortunately, closer to all three men, including the one he’s never fucking met in the first place.

Keeley’s made sure to officially announce that he’s had surgery, explaining away his absence and all the speculation that went with it. The press will likely hound him anyways, but Roy already has his response planned (“Fuck off!”).

The crowd cheers him during their next match. He hobbles slowly behind the rest of the coaches, using one crutch even though he really should be using both, swearing under his breath at the soft terrain and his shit balance and fucking kneecaps for being so fragile in the first place. Keeley would say all this support is sweet, and he catches a glimpse of her beaming at him from the stands, Oliver bouncing on her lap, and the agony and humiliation dulls.

Richmond plays a great fucking game. It’s not their best match ever, but they win and celebrate accordingly. Roy makes his excuses earlier than usual; he knows he’s put Keeley through the wringer in the past week, and Oliver keeps rubbing his eyes, and there’s nothing more that Roy wants than to read his son a fairytale then cuddle with his wife in bed.

So they go home, and do exactly that.

Roy’s last thought before he drifts off that night, having tucked Oliver into bed and kissed Keeley quite thoroughly, is of how fucking perfect his life is. And, although he echoes that thought many more times, one of the more poignant occurrences is when his daughter is born, and he holds her in his arms for the first time.

Yeah. Pretty fucking perfect.

#roy kent #roy x keeley #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #keeley jones #roy x keeley fanfic #roy x keeley fanfiction #keeley x roy #ted lasso imagine #roy kent x keeley jones

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invisibleraven · 3 years ago

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The Ghosts of Christmas Eve

@jatp-adventevent Day Nineteen: Crooked Tin Soldier <-AO3 link

Pairing: PeterPatter

The boys never died AU

Luke would always say it was pretty hard to scare him, but being forced to be in a toy store a few weeks before Christmas absolutely terrified him. Everywhere there were crazy kids running around, tired and stressed parents grabbing everything off the shelves, and harangued employees who looked like they had lost the will to live long ago. If it weren’t for Reggie, he would never have set foot in the place.

Reggie wanted to get something super cool for Rose's new little girl, Julie. She would only be a few months old by Christmas, but Rose was one of their closest friends, and they all doted on Julie, so an awesome present was essential. Luke had been fine finding something online, as a lot of stores had websites where you could buy things from now. He, Alex, and Bobby had all gone that route, wanting to avoid the hectic shops as much as possible.

But not Reggie, who said you couldn’t really tell the quality of a product if you got it off the internet, wanting to ensure that whatever he got Julie was well made and suitable for a baby. Then he had broken out those big damn pleading eyes of his, begging Luke to accompany him, and well, Luke was always weak when it came to Reggie.

Thankfully, they had a game plan, going straight for the stuffed animals, figuring that was the best sort of toy for a small infant. Reggie clutched onto Luke’s hand, pulling him through the throngs of people towards the section, which was fairly picked over, but Reggie was undeterred. He rummaged through the pile that was left, lifting up toy after toy, assessing each one, sometimes asking Luke’s opinion. Luke didn’t think Julie would care one way or another, but he gave a thumbs up or down for each one Reggie held aloft anyway.

Finally, Reggie lifted one up triumphantly; a stuffed golden retriever toy that looked perfectly cuddly and just right. “Looks just like you Reg,” Luke quipped, earning a playfully shove, but Reggie was still smiling, so he counted that as a win.

They were making their way out of the store when Reggie got distracted by the large Lego display. There, in all her miniature brick glory, was the Millennium Falcon. Reggie stopped and stared at it, mouth hanging open. “Man, I would have loved to have that as a kid.”

“It is pretty sweet, though I don’t recall you being all that into Legos as a kid,” Luke said.

“You know what my parents were like man, no way would they let me waste money on something like that. And they weren’t about to buy me something with a ton of tiny, easily losable pieces. I asked, believe me. I got by playing with Alex’s, he had this one space station set, man I must have built it and taken it apart to build it again a hundred times. Was so sad when he got out of them and then his parents gave them all away to some cousin or another.” Reggie then gave a little melancholy sigh before shrugging and pulling Luke towards the cash register, but Luke’s eyes stayed trained on the Lego display until they left the store.

That year for Christmas, the guys all gathered at Rose and Ray’s house to exchange gifts, given they had space compared to their tiny apartments. Julie was sitting in her mother’s arms babbling away, and when Reggie shyly presented her with the stuffed puppy she let out a loud giggle, grasping it with her tiny fist. “It’s perfect cariño,” Rose said, pressing a sweet kiss to Reggie’s cheek. He flushed but his eyes never left Julie, and Luke wondered how much Reggie wanted that; the marriage, house and children. They were rising up as a band, so their lifestyle didn’t really lend itself to that nuclear household kind of life. Maybe after they put out the next album Luke could look into the two of them settling down a little more.

Gifts were quickly passed out, everyone exclaiming their delight and thanks to each other. Luke left his gift for Reggie until last, handing him the rather large box and smirking as Reggie tore off the paper. “Lu-Luke…”

“That’s the right one isn’t it?” Luke asked, gesturing to the Lego set in Reggie’s hands. It was a space station from the late 80’s, a simple set compared to the Millennium Falcon that was also there. But Reggie was still stuck on the Lego set that he had so coveted as a child. He threw himself into Luke’s arms, plastering his face with kisses.

“You-You got me my very own Lego set. You’re the best!” Reggie exclaimed, pressing one more kiss to Luke’s mouth before he gleefully sat down to pull out the instructions. Luke sat back, satisfied that he had made Reggie so happy, even if the rest of them were looking at him confused, except Alex. Alex gave Luke a small, warm smile, reaching his fist out for a bump.

“How did you even find that?”

“Ebay! Was sadly more expensive than the Falcon, but he’s worth it,” Luke replied, then sat down next to Reggie, the two of them happily building away as Julie babbled away, providing the perfect background noise for Lego construction.

#JatPAdvent2021 #my stuff #writing #fanfic #ruke #peterpatter #julie and the phantoms

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marshmallowprotection · 3 years ago

Note

It’s 3am and I’m screaming cause I finally got the bad end in Rays AE where you go back to Rika and you both essentially make Saeran a puppet…:/

When he said “I’m not sure what real happiness is” FUCK THAT SHATTERED MY HEART IM SO SORRY SAERAN ;-; AND HE STILL SAYS HE LOVES MC BABY NO PLEASE GET MAD OR SOMETHING YOU DONT DESERVE THAT

There’s no doubt he feels betrayed by MC but god I wish he’d show it more :(

And the black rose on his outfit…kill me now…

Just…thank GOD I never have to do that ending again, it was one of the hardest to get, knowing you’re going against his wishes and deciding his future for him. And having to chose those options for the entirety of the route…

I wanna hug GE Saeran and spoil him with affection now more than ever T-T

Yeah, they basically had to put an ending in there that is similar to Bad Ending 3 of Ray Route. I did talk about this when I did my play through and reaction guide, and [you can check that out over here.]

Physically what makes this ending horrible is that in comparison to that other ending, is that you have known him for far longer and you have a better understanding of what he wants and what he doesn't want. In this moment you choose the very thing that he does not want. You go against him and he bows his head because he loves you. You double-crossed him after him giving you everything. Of course it's going to leave a sour taste in your mouth. A black rose symbolizes death. At least in this case.

#anon #ask #mod kait #saeran after ending #spoilers #saeran choi

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mymedicine · 4 years ago

Text

Occam’s Razor

5.6k of surfer harry and y/n, mostly fluff, frenemies to lovers type beat

moodboard

warnings - marijuana usage, swearing, very light sexual language, lotsa teasing, harry being really sassy

notes - this started as a little blurb for @majorharry‘s 20k fic celebration and then it spiraled out of control into this very self-indulgent fantasy. I used the prompt “You’re lying. I can tell when you look at me like that.” Cass’s work inspired me to start writing harry fic in the first place, so if you enjoy this, you have her to thank! <3

more notes - fair warning y’all, I’m not a stoner by any means. i’ve been high like twice in my life and i cried both times so please forgive any inaccuracies in the smoking department. that being said, I urge you to click this link to learn about the decriminalization of cannabis in the US and how you can help correct the injustices associated with it. ok, yes I will shut up now please enjoy!

Island life was a dream come true for Y/N.

There was no sound she loved more than the crashing of waves against the shore, no smell more lovely than the salty aroma of beach air, and no sight more beautiful than the bright sunrise from her home two blocks away from the sand. She squinted at the rising sun as she rode the familiar route to the beach, surfboard clutched underneath one arm. With the other, she steered her trusty bicycle—the only form of transformation she needed on the island. All she ever needed to do was go back and forth from home to work at the surf shack on the beach and back again, with an occasional Target run in between when she was low on mangoes for her smoothies.

It was a perfect morning for an easy surf. Not too hot, not too windy. Just pale skies and a gentle summer breeze bringing peaceful energy to the tiny shack on the sand. She approached the back of the shop, clutching her board a little tighter as she rode over the uneven beach terrain. When she reached the wooden structure, she deposited her bike and board out back before waltzing inside through the back door.

“Morning, H!” Y/N yelled into the room, gripping the strap of her backpack over one shoulder.

From the main shopping area of the store, a curly head popped into the back room. “You’re late,” he replied, pushing his sunglasses through his already messy hair and perching them on the crown of his head. He sauntered into the back room, following Y/N over to their shared locker in the corner.

“C’mon Harry,” Y/N shrugged him off, “island time.”

In truth, neither of them really cared about her being a few minutes late to their agreed meeting time. The store didn’t open for hours and even then, the owner wouldn’t mind. It also didn’t hurt that said owner was none other than Harry’s mother.

“'S pretty out today,” Y/N continued, shoving her backpack into the locker they stored their stuff in during the day. “Should be plenty of nice hollows to play around in before—”

“My smoothie better not be melted,” Harry interrupted her just as she was pulling two thermoses out of the bag.

He was smirking, obviously uninterested in what she was saying and instead transfixed with the sweet drinks in her hands. Y/N rolled her eyes at him. Harry may not have been the most gracious company, but he was company at least. Island life was simple, relaxed, and perfect for Y/N, but it’d be lonely if it weren’t for him. He also consistently supplied her with decent weed and excellent board wax, which certainly didn’t hurt his case. In return, she brought him a mango smoothie every day. As underpaid and overworked coworkers, symbiosis and a shared love for the ocean kept their friendship relatively intact.

“Just for that, you’re not getting it until after dawn patrol,” she taunted, rattling the thermos above her head. She enjoyed the way his eyes followed the drink like a cat’s would a piece of yarn.

His tanned chest rose and fell as he inhaled an exasperated breath, jaw tight and eyes glinting with playful contempt. Along with his teasing expression, he wore only orange floral board shorts and the pair of sunglasses pushing back his curls. Y/N couldn’t help but notice his lack of clothing, even after months of working and surfing together nearly every day. Fuck, she thought, he just keeps getting hotter.

She couldn’t decide whether the fact that he was an actual work of art was helping her withstand his presence in her life, or if it was just simply torturing her with something she didn’t think she could have. Either way, his beauty was a constant distraction.

“Fine,” Harry taunted as Y/N put the drinks in the mini fridge beside the locker. “But just for that, I’ll out-surf your ass.”

~~~

Y/N laid with her cheek pressed down on her board, sighing as the hot sun gently warmed her wet skin. Dawn had brought plenty of excitement in the form of large, smooth waves, but by mid-morning the sea had calmed to a pleasant lull. She spread out her arms and let her fingers trail lightly in the water, finding comfort and solace in the coldness of it. Her board bobbed softly with the mellow waves, rocking her body like a mother rocking her baby. She could have fallen asleep if it weren’t for Harry’s sudden loud cursing coming from somewhere behind her.

“Y/N! Wake the fuck up!”

“I’m not asleep, asshole,” she called back, not moving from her peaceful position.

“C’mon, we’re already late. And s’ gonna rain so we have to pull in the racks.”

Y/N remembered the way the rising sun had been beating down on them all morning. She felt like she was being roasted out there in the humid air with her back exposed to the rays, not obstructed by even a single cloud. But the island weather was as volatile as it was beautiful, and the start of tropical storm season was imminent.

Y/N picked her head up and pushed her chest up on the board, observing the large, dark storm clouds in the distant horizon. I’ll be damned, she thought, he’s right. There was no way in hell she’d ever actually say that to him, though. Not with the way he was continuously taunting her from his place on his own board—“Y/N! Waaaakeeeey wakey! We have woooork!”

“Alright, Harry, shut up! I’m coming.”

Despite Harry’s incessant nagging, they both paddled to shore at a pretty lazy pace, trying to savor their last few minutes of peace in the water before having to deal with all the daily nuisances of customer service.

Anne’s shop on the beach was a hit with the locals and tourists alike. For years, she and Harry had been providing beachgoers with sunscreen and board wax and rash guards and even souvenir t-shirts and mugs, that sort of thing. Anne finally hired Y/N when they started selling bikinis two months ago and the business went through the roof. Having more customers was great, but it meant there was more work to be done.

Y/N and Harry approached the store, dragging their boards with their hair still dripping wet and feet caked with sand. There was a boy lingering outside, dressed in a tank top and board shorts that both looked half a size too big on his skinny frame. They both recognized him immediately—he was a regular at the beach but kind of a shubie, which deeply irritated Harry. Y/N wasn’t Tyler’s biggest fan either; it pissed her off a little when he’d show up bright and early before Anne, Harry or herself had even arrived to open up. But she was at least less hung up on it than Harry was.

“I got him,” Y/N told Harry. “Can you start on the racks? Don’t need you chasing away our best customer.”

Little did Y/N know, Harry disliked the guy for more reasons than just the facts that he showed up ridiculously early to the store and that he tried to dress like a surfer and hang with the locals but was too much of a pussy to go near the water.

While Y/N was tending to Tyler, Harry begrudgingly began pulling in the clothing racks stocked with t-shirts that Anne liked to keep outside in front of the shop. During last year’s rainy season, he’d have to pull the damn things inside nearly every other day. He glared through the open front door at Tyler while he interacted with Y/N, making her use the pole to reach one of the tank tops hung high up on the wall. “Interacted” was a soft way to put it, he reckoned. It could not possibly be more obvious that he was flirting with her.

It only annoyed Harry because he knew he was about eight thousand times better than Tyler on literally all levels, yet the boy still got to enjoy Y/N’s attention for as long as he wanted (he was a paying customer, after all). All while she was none the wiser. Harry loathed the way his eyes lingered on her chest, especially since today she hadn’t had time to put her coverup on before having to get the fucking tank top for him.

Y/N’s head snapped away from Tyler and his incessant talking when a loud crashing sound rang out. Harry was already looking at her from the doorway, face twisted with irritation. One of the racks was crashed into the wall beside him, leaving a few fallen shirts scattered on the floor.

“You missed the door, H.” Y/N laughed at him. She was amused by the grumbling noises he was making as he struggled to yank the rack through the door frame.

“You wanna do this yehself then? ‘F you just gonna make fun of me…” He frowned, voice getting fainter as he disappeared outside to grab the last rack.

“Sorry about him,” Y/N turned back to Tyler, who was waiting patiently for her to scan and neatly fold the top he was buying.

The boy flashed her a charming smile. “S’ fine. I’m not here for him.”

Y/N was not an idiot. She noticed his flirting, but didn’t take it remotely seriously. He was far too young for her. He was thinner than she preferred. His hair was too blonde, skin too pale and clean of any ink. And, well, he wasn’t Harry.

She kind of hated that everyone had to be compared to Harry in her mind, but she couldn’t help it. He was a masterpiece. Her gaze followed him as he sauntered back into the store, picking up fallen merchandise here and there before strolling right past her, into the back room.

Y/N sent Tyler a tightlipped smile when she realized she’d been inadvertently ignoring him. She felt his eyes on her as she finished the transaction. He took the bag from her outstretched arm, but his presence lingered even after she’d given him a polite yet dismissive “Have a nice day.”

“I’m Tyler, by the way,” he began, and Y/N internally groaned. He’d introduced himself several times already during the past few weeks. She was nicer about it than Harry, sure, but fuck she did not want to entertain this kid’s advances. “And you’re—“

“Y/N!” Harry’s voice called from behind her, interrupting Tyler rather rudely in the middle of his sentence. Harry appeared at her side as if she’d conjured him up by thinking about him. She be lying if she said she minded the interruption. “Here’s your smoothie from the back,” he said with a charming smile.

Harry produced one of the thermoses and presented it to her as if it were a prize. He knew he was the real winner though—one look at Tyler’s dejected expression confirmed that much.

“Oh! Thank you, Harry,” Y/N chirped, trying desperately to thank Harry with her eyes while still remaining diplomatic. “I was just finishing up with Tyler here.”

The blonde boy looked between Harry and Y/N, lingering for only a few more seconds with his anxious fingers twisted in the plastic bag he was holding. “Right,” he stuttered, “er…you guys have a good one…” And he backed away from the store.

Y/N turned back to Harry as their customer left. She took the thermos from his hand before playfully scolding him. “That was rude, Harry.”

"He was being rude first. He wouldn’t leave.” Harry shrugged, sipping his own smoothie and swooping back into the back room before Y/N could tease him on his poor excuse.

The Tyler ordeal aside, the work day passed as all the others did. Maybe a little less busy than usual due to the impending storm. By early evening, the tourist crowd at the beach had thinned considerably. One or two local surfers lingered in the water as the dark clouds began to roll in and slowly hide the sun. Harry and Y/N watched them absently from their places behind the counter, sitting beside each other on matching stools.

Y/N took in the view. Even painted an ominous shade of dark gray, the horizon brought a serene wave of calm over her. This was where she belonged, and she was sure of it.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Harry asked, noticing the far away look in her eyes.

“The water,” Y/N replied. It was true—she was looking at the water. But she was really looking beyond it, taking in the entire scene. The lull of the crystal blue ocean, the fading sunlight hitting the palm trees, the soft sand being pelted with raindrops, even the display case of I <3 2 SURF mugs that was mildly obstructing her view out the window. She turned to face him and, of course, he fit right in. He was an integral part of her vision, the beautiful fantasy that she was lucky enough to be living in.

He smiled at her. “’S pouring fuckin’ buckets, Y/N. There’s water everywhere.”

She laughed at his joke, happy to slip back into her real-life daydream.

“What should we do, then? No one’s gonna be coming to the beach.”

“I dunno. Play a game?” Last rainy season, Harry had been alone in the shop. Those past lonely days felt like an entirely different lifetime. In this one, Y/N was his present. His here and now.

He stood from the stool and crouched down to survey the shelves underneath the counter. Anne kept random necessities like water bottles and fruit snacks and a flashlight and…yes! A deck of Uno cards.

Y/N sighed dramatically. With Harry, she knew even a simple little game for kids would quickly spiral into momentous occasion.

“Well if I’m gonna have to play this game with you, there’s no way I’m doing it sober.” With that, Y/N didn’t hesitate to hop off her own stool and head to the back room to retrieve her backpack.

Harry raised his eyebrows, amused by the suggestion. Maybe it was irresponsible to get high when the shop was technically still open for another hour, but what the hell. The crowd had already been thinning for hours.

“We’re gonna smoke in my dear mother’s shop?” Harry mused.

“We? Did you want one?” Her voice was teasing, growing clearer as she returned from the back room. She perched herself back in her stool and began to prepare a single joint for herself.

“Love, I literally provide you the weed. Of course I fuckin’ want one.”

“Okay, sassy. You can do it yourself if you’re gonna be a dick about it.”

So, he did. And naturally, the task turned into a heated race between the two. The pelting rain outside was an appropriate soundtrack for a race which Y/N, distracted by the way Harry’s nimble fingers packed the rolling paper and pink tongue slipped out to seal the edge, was destined to pathetically lose.

“Hah,” said Harry once he’d twisted the tip, flourishing the finished joint between them for himself to admire.

Y/N rolled her eyes as she finished her own, “Whatever, Harry. I out surfed you this morning and I’ll out smoke you tonight.”

“Well then I’ll have to beat your ass at Uno.”

“Game on.”

They played six rounds of Uno, taking hits in between turns until they were both high as kites. They lost interest in the middle of round seven when Y/N accidentally knocked the deck off of the counter, scattering the cards all over the floor. Even though they each had an even three wins under their belt, neither wanted to pick up the cards, so they agreed to a truce. The pitter-patter of rain and whooshing sound of high winds continued as Harry was muttering in a low voice—something about him dreading having to clean up all the cards tomorrow—but Y/N wasn’t really listening at all.

The high disintegrated the invisible barrier between them, effectively magnifying their usual playful touches into prolonged caresses. Y/N had one leg draped over Harry’s lap, perfectly placed for his massive hands to clutch her calf and gently massage her skin in tune with his soft ramblings. His touch sent sparks flying deep in her belly. He was everywhere, his presence so commanding she was almost disoriented by euphoria. She only fell back down to earth when she realized the comforting din she’d gotten used to had gone silent.

“Listen, H. It’s stopped raining.”

He silenced his mellow prattling and stood from the stool, making Y/N frown a little at the loss of touch. She watched him as he moved over to the window, resting his palms on the sill and peering through the glass at the beach. “Not for long. Look at the clouds.”

She followed his movements, wandering over to him and then tugging one of his arms off the sill. Craving his touch, she effortlessly wedged herself in between his body and the window—a move that would have made sober Harry a little flustered. But his fuzzy brain allowed him to relax into the feeling of her body against his. He lifted his arm to point at the second cluster of storm clouds approaching the beach from the horizon, in turn pressing his bicep to her shoulder.

“Hm,” Y/N surveyed the incoming clouds. “Maybe I should get home while it’s stopped. No one’s coming to the shop when ’s pouring out.”

“Yeh gonna ride your bike high?” Harry mused. “Don’tcha think that’s kinda unsafe?”

She didn’t think so, really. But she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want an excuse to hang out with Harry some more, especially now that they were standing way closer than necessary and she could once again feel his bare skin against hers. “I guess…” Y/N trailed off, distracted by the high coursing through her and the feeling of his arms around her. They were strong from years of propelling himself through the sea water, hot and tan from the hours spent in island sun.

“Fancy a dip to sober you up?”

She paused to ponder the offer, putting considerable effort into focusing on thinking rather than feeling his body. The water did look as inviting as ever now that the rain had let up—temporarily, at least.

“Okay.”

The words had barely left her mouth before Harry was moving eagerly away from her. Y/N stumbled out the door behind him, struggling to keep up while he excitedly meandered down the sand on unsteady legs. Halfway there, Y/N gave up on trying to catch up. She shed her board shorts and sandals right there on the sand, leaving her in her bikini top from earlier and matching bottoms. As she waded into the sea, part of her was regretting skipping the rash guard that morning as the salt water stung the reddening skin on her exposed stomach.

Harry was feeling a similar pain on his own bare abdomen, but he paid it no mind as he bounced through the white water. Instead he took in the twinkling sea and the early evening sunset, appreciating the way the pink clouds reflected in the water. It was so pretty, he thought, endorphins flooding his brain. Might be the prettiest fuckin’ sight I’ve ever seen…

Suddenly, Harry’s reverie was rudely interrupted by a cold blast of salt water slapping him on the back.

“What the fuck?!”

He whipped around and there she was, waist-deep with her cheeky smile and challenging eyes giving her away. Of course she was guilty, there was no one else in the goddamn lagoon five minutes before another torrential downpour. He inched toward her, impishly preparing his own counter attack. She was giggling profusely as she, too, moved backward as if she were his prey.

When she’d backed up to where it was too deep for her to stand, she squeaked and lifted her hands up in front of her face to protect herself. The water was up to her cheeks, flushed with heat, with elation, and alighted by the setting sun. Harry splashed her mercilessly, both giggling like children as her attempts to thwart his attack failed. His head was spinning, melodic laughter and splashes resonating between them. She flung her arms blindly in and out of the water as he moved closer and, foolishly, he underestimated the power of blind luck. Harry spluttered and spat as salt water landed directly in his open mouth. He swatted with his hands, whipping his soaking wet hair around before playfully glaring at her. She was squinting and rubbing the salt water out of her eyes, but she still wore that cheeky, challenging grin.

“Right, tha’s it. Yeh in for it now.” he howled at her. He reached out for her waist, intending to pick her up and throw her into the white water to wipe that stupid victorious smile off her face.

It didn’t work, but how could he be upset when he was faced with her pretty head popping up out of the white water, face lit up with pure happiness? When he was laughing along with her, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest, all with the stunning background of the most beautiful beach sunset he’d ever seen?

The sun had long set by the time they decided to call it quits. It was getting cold and, as expected, it was starting to drizzle again. They marched up the damp beach together, walking side by side with their shoes in their hands. Neither of them had bothered to bring a towel and the once pleasant island wind was now biting their wet skin. Y/N picked up her pace to warm her muscles and keep up with Harry, whose longer legs were trudging through the sand up toward the shop.

“It’s pretty late…” Harry drawled, craning his neck to observe the bright shining moon that had taken the sun’s place.

Y/N took a few seconds to reply, panting from the exertion. “Yeah.”

“And ’s raining again…”

“Mmhm.” Y/N stole a sideways glance at him. He was smiling, as per usual. And he had that playful glint in his eyes that she adored.

“…Aaaand I live just up there…” He swung his arms like a child as he walked beside her, causing one of his flip flops to repeatedly whack one of her sandals in her grasp.

Endeared, Y/N cracked a smile of her own. “Right…”

“Do you wanna maybe…”

She stopped marching then, as they reached the front of the store. She was hit with the sudden realization that part of her fantasy was becoming real. There was no work to be done at this hour, no Tyler to pull tank tops for, no interruptions. Only Harry, her favorite distraction.

Taken with his own thoughtful musing, Harry walked a few more steps before realizing Y/N had stopped. He turned around to face her, and even in the darkness she could see the flush in his cheeks.

“…spend the night at mine?”

~~~

Harry lived even closer to the beach than Y/N in an even tinier studio. Anne of course had a house a few miles into town that Harry frequented, but he was a grown man. It was more than enough to be working for his mum. As much as he adored her, he did not want to live with her.

His place very much resembled the shack they worked in from the outside. Inside he had four walls, a window, a bed in the middle, an armchair in the corner, and a hammock strung out on the porch. Y/N briefly imagined herself lounging in it, maybe sipping a mango smoothie. It would have been very pleasant if not for the fact that it was just exposed enough to be catching the rain water. A brilliant idea sparked in her brain, one she couldn’t ignore.

“I’m g’na sleep in the hammock,” she declared.

“Uh, fuck no yeh not.” Harry replied immediately, equally as firm.

“Yeah I am. It’ll be nice.”

He huffed, setting his backpack on the nightstand and cursing when it slid off. Y/N failed to fight back laughter as she watched him struggle to fit his bag next to the antiquated lamp on the side table. He swore again, finally deciding to push the lamp to the corner of the table and nearly breaking it in the process.

Having successfully removed his shoes, he sat gingerly on the bed and sighed. “But—but…” He paused, shaking his head and letting out a flustered half-laugh. “It’s wet!”

“So?” Y/N teased with a knowing grin, pleased that he’d taken the bait. All she really wanted to complete her real life daydream was to hear him request for her to sleep beside him.

“Do you know what my mother would do to me if she found out I let you sleep outside in a hammock in the fuckin’ rain?”

Oh she knew. Anne would lose her goddamn mind. As kind and gentle as she was, she demanded respectfulness and courtesy from her Harry. She wouldn’t hesitate to fire her own son for misbehaving, or at least withhold his paycheck for a few weeks.

“Fine,” she gave in with a sigh, leaning her back against the far wall, “you’re right.”

He perked up, turning around sharply to face her. “Sorry, what was tha’?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, already knowing what he was getting at. She ignored him and began undoing the clasps on her own sandals, refusing to repeat herself. Admitting he was right once was far more than enough to feed his already giant ego.

“You said I’m… what? Couldn’t hear you properly…” He had the upper hand now, and he knew it.

“Shut up, asshole.” She tossed her shoe at him, and to her delight, it landed directly on his sunburnt face. Y/N laughed loudly as he swatted the air and proceeded to rub his cheek, grimacing.

“That’s not wha’ you said, you little bitch,” He sent her a pointed smirk but didn’t retaliate, too busy tending to his own wounded skin.

Y/N gasped playfully, “What was that you called me?!” she dropped her jaw, committing to the melodrama of it all, “What would your sweet mother do if she were to find out you called me the b-word?”

With that, the ball was back in her court. Victory just within her grasp.

The light pain in Harry’s cheek had faded, but his pride was still feeling it a little. As his hand moved away from his face, Y/N caught a glimmer of mischief flicking in his eyes. “Don’t bring her into this,” he smiled, “she’s an innocent.”

“No one’s safe.” Y/N fired back immediately, a playful grin pulling at her own cheeks.

“Yeah, you’re definitely not safe,” he taunted. He hauled himself off the bed with intent to exact his revenge on her. She had a lot to be guilty of—the shoe incident, the splashing episode she started, the name-calling, the relentless teasing, and mostly the way she was looking at him right then, with fondness and...lust, unmistakable in her eyes, that was making him lose his mind.

He had her cornered against the far wall. Two hands went out to catch her bare waist and release his wrath on her in the form of tickles. Y/N laughed violently, squirming in his arms and yelping, “Stop it, Harry!” Lust clouded his own still foggy brain as he glanced downward, eyes trailing down her bikini-clad chest to her waist where he held her firmly against him.

Y/N caught him, of course. She was staring at him just as intently. As always, she was enchanted by how beautiful he was. His hair was still damp and she was close enough to see bits of sand hiding in the curls. He was grinning wildly, eyes crinkling, cheeks flushed red, teeth adorably poking his pink bottom lip.

Without warning, he ducked his head pressed his lips to hers. Shock melted away as his mouth molded to hers, igniting an inferno in the pit of her stomach. Likewise, flames of passion were roaring within Harry as desperation took over for rational thought. He kissed her with the same eagerness and intensity with which they both would dive into the ocean, head first with no hesitation. His tongue was salty and sweet against hers. He tasted faintly like the sea and weed and mangoes—everything Y/N loved.

Which made it all the more difficult to pull away.

“We should stop,” she sighed but continued to accept the hot pecks he was dotting on her cheek, her jaw, her neck.

“Why?” he muttered against her skin, pruned hands squeezing her waist tighter.

“Because, we’re all salty and gross…” she wrapped her arms around his neck, anchoring his supple lips at the nape of her neck and shivering at the feeling he gave her. His lips were hot on her skin, lighting a blissful trail of fire wherever they went.

“I don’t mind.”

The pelting rain outside sounded distant to her, like background noise against the vibrations of Harry’s husky voice.

“Well...I do. Besides, we should talk about…whatever this is…” Y/N trailed off, thoughts evaporating into feelings, words melting into breathy whines.

“Wha’s there to talk about?” He pulled away from her neck but she didn’t let him go far. She held his sunburnt cheeks in her palms and let their noses brush against each other as he declared, “’S very simple. You’re in love with me.”

Y/N’s eyes widened and she let out a joyful laugh. She pulled away a millimeter, letting the back of her head graze the wall behind her as she continued to softly, nervously laugh, “You’re crazy, Harry. I’m not in love with you.” The lie tasted salty on her lips, as if the universe did not want to let her forget how delectable his own tasted against hers. She let herself gaze into his eyes, helpless against such a force so far beyond her control.

“You’re lying. I can tell when you look at me like that.”

She was sure he could feel her heart racing in her chest as she let out a breathy sigh, “Like how?”

“Like yeh want me to tell you you’re pretty and then fuck yeh into tha’ bed you fought me over.”

He smirked evilly as he said it, loving the way she shivered in his arms. She whined against his skin, way past pretending his words didn’t affect her. She shut her eyes and pressed another deep, languid kiss to his reddening bottom lip, unable to resist. “And what makes you so sure that’s love, H?” she whispered against his mouth.

“You’re kissin’ me like you’re in love with me, you’re looking at me like you’re in love with me, so, says Occam’s razor, yeh must be in love with me.”

“When did you become a goddamn philosopher?”

“‘M fuckin’ baked, Y/N,” he laughed, his breath tickling her cupid’s bow. “But ‘m also right. Yeh said it yourself.”

“Bullshit, you peaked a while ago.”

“Maybe I’m just fuckin’ smart then, Miss not-so-subtle-at-changing-the-subject.”

“Fine,” she deadpanned. And after a deep inhale: “I love you.”

Her voice was even, but a tsunami of feelings crashed in Y/N’s chest as the words left her lips—relief, joy, adoration, love.

An easy, knowing smile graced Harry’s mouth. “Spectaculah. I love y—“

“No,” she interrupted him with a peck on the lips, “tell me in the morning…when you’re sober. Then…”

She felt the heat rise up her throat and a smile pull at her lips at the vivid images running through her mind. The soft rays of morning sunshine peeking through the window, the sound of waves crashing in the distance, Harry’s naked chest against hers, his mouth muttering sweet, filthy praises across her chest, her tummy, the insides of her thighs…

“Sure thing, my love,” Harry laughed lightly. He had a feeling he knew exactly what was going on behind her red-rimmed eyelids. His own imagination was conjuring up dirty images of himself buried between her legs, basking in her salty skin and breathy whines. But there were softer thoughts, too. Fantasies involving sweet kisses pressed to her lips and her cheeks and the dulcet melody of her laughter and the feeling of her soft hands on his face. He saw her face while she was riding the biggest wave of the morning—lit up with a huge smile and eyes twinkling with the ocean’s reflection in them. He envisioned her soft lips stained orange with mango juice. He saw her cheeky, joyous grin when he was splashing her against the powdery pink backdrop of the sun setting into the sea. The prettiest fuckin’ sight I’ve ever seen.

Come morning, the first thing she heard was the crashing of the waves and Harry’s raspy voice in her ear.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

thank you for reading <3

please tell me what you think! I’d love to hear from y’all :D

informal taglist, aka a lovely bean who requested to be tagged: @fortrapsandfordaphne

#harry styles writing #majorharry20k #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #surfer!harry

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juminsqrincess · 4 years ago

Text

RFA + saeran’s petnames headcannons

GENDER NEUTRAL

something small to start the blog off hehe~ here are the RFA’s and saeran’s (minus v because i literally haven’t played his route or looked at him HJGHGJ sorry-) favourite pet names to call you: (minor spoilers for saeran)

yoosung:

not gonna lie, poor baby yoosung is probably the one *being* called the pet names most of the time; but after a while he does start to get more comfortable and less anxious and flusterable (is that word? LMAO) when giving affection to the MC. he starts off very slowly, calling you the pet names when you’re both sleepy, or when you’re focused on a game with him, so you don’t notice it too much (though his face still reddens in anticipation to your reaction) and then pet names become a more natural thing for him, and just start slipping out- especially if you give him a positive reaction because he just wants to see you happy!

pet names include: - honey (delivered with a cheesy grin, he thinks he’s all smooth and classy) - bubby (literally just baby but with extra yoosung sweetness added - it started out as something he used in his sleepy voice and then you picked up a liking to it- it still kind of embarrasses him) - birdie (likes the concept of you being all small and fluffy- *is small and fluffy*- yoosung’s version of the classic pet name ‘dove’) - snuggles (definitely WAS NOT the name of his old teddy bear that he MAYBE still keeps as a SECRET to cuddle when he misses you-) - his little pogchamp

zen:

pet name GOD - shamelessly started using pet names as SOON as you two hit it off, this man is a pet name machine he has TRICKS UP HIS SLEEVE. bro. he uses as many pet names as he can to figure out your weak spots and then TAKES ADVANTAGE OF THIS KNOWLEDGE. it boosts his ego to see you flustered because of him of course - though he wants you to feel special too! he has a few favourites listed here with special meaning~

pet name include: - babe/jagi/jagiya (duh bro?? its like canon or sum) - beautiful/handsome/gorgeous - whatever suits you most~ (NEED I SAY MORE? SOMEONE AS BEAUTIFUL AS HIM WILL ONLY BE WITH SOMEONE EQUALLY AS GOOD-LOOKING?? he also give constant compliments be warned) - cutie (wholesome zen moment) - good-lookin’ (said as he casually pulls you in by the waist to kiss your forehead, wow zen you’re so smoo0th) - sexy (IT’S THE BEAST BRO)

jaehee:

unfortunately none of us have really seen jaehee’s more lovey-dovey side in the game - she probably prefers calling you by your name the most, and she speaks it almost like it’s a praise, but the odd time she calls you pet names just as a way to appreciate you, or to remind you that she cherishes you. does it very casually and naturally, she’s quite a steady-paced girl so she needn’t force pet names to come, they just do whenever the moment calls for it really.

pet names incluude: - love - darling (you are dear to herr!! she’s so busy all the time - moments with you are cherished and precious - you’re like a pocket of hope and sunshine in such a grey world full of deadlines and schedules... someone she can truly relax with!) - beloved - dear(est) - sweetheart (BCS. YOU. ARE. SO SWEET! you’re always looking out for her and being so patient with her as she works - you have a heart of gold, and she admires how kind you are to the RFA members - she’s truly lucky to have won a place in your heart <3)

jumin:

this man. this man is so nonchalantly smooth. he doesn’t even know it - or maybe he does - you can’t tell because he’ll just slip in a pet name mid-convo and make you mELT. when he gets soft... pet names are maybe one of his favourite things to tell you, because he gets to show you his more vulnerable and affectionate sides. he uses pet names as a way to spoil you - and spoil you he does because HIS VOICE *IS HEAVEN*, and the light kisses and touches he places on you as he speaks to you so fondly are a BIIG BONUSS. it takes him a while to start using more ‘personalized’ pet names - he sticks to the generic ones at first, they’re classy and simple - but after a while he conjures up newer ones out of his sheer emotion for you - only to be used in private though.

pet names include: - the usual at first, dear, beloved, honey, love - AND THEN BOOM: precious (you are the most precious thing in his life HANDS DOWN. gets so sentimental when he uses it aswell - will whisper it to you before bed or when he’s trying to comfort you - nothing in this world compares to how much you mean to him) - kitten (yeah you thought i would stop myself - no.) - mr/mrs/mx* han (after you get married he does this a lot in public - maybe to show off a little bit and see everyone’s surprised faces as he follows it with ‘dear’ or something - he isn’t big into PDA but he has his smug sneaky ways of letting you know that he is thankful to have you) - HIS prince/princess/your majesty/highness: (DUUUDE... he wants the BEST for you - you’ve finally shown him what the wonderful feelings of love do! you hold that power over him at least! ...will kiss your hand when he uses this)

saeyoung:

saeyoung has... stranger more unique ways to show you affection, and the pet names he uses do not escape his whacky tendencies - uses pet names as a way to put a smile on your face and to make you laugh, to see that cute bright smile on your face! of course though, saeyoung has a (small) share of pet names that are more sensical and have some sort of more obvious meaning behind them. he starts off using dumb pet names, then as he gets emotionally attached stops, then he accepts he loves you and starts using really cheesey pet names, theenn he regains some of his happiness with you and becomes more jokey again (WHEW!).

pet names include: (besides the normal boooring ones /j) - his star (you guided him to his happiness... you shone for him brightly when he had no shine himself - you cheered him up with your beauty and warmth - and you guys did kick ass stuff in his good end like it was a MOVIE or something – also spaaace??) - weird food names - starts off as honey and sweetie pie - gets weird fast... will call you his chip and his nurse pepper ( doctor is reserved for the drink - otherwise it gets confusing) - LOWKEY MAKES FUN OF YOU... if you’re short he’ll call you shortie - if you’re tall he calls you tallie (haha funny.) if you’re blonde he calls you blondie, and if you have freckles or dimples OR GLASSES - consider it your new name. also starts calling you after the things you wear - if you wear chains, he calls you chains, if you wear dramatic makeup, he starts calling you a diva - will call you noob i’m sorry - sweet cheeks (SEVEN WHICH CHEEKS-) - boople snoot (yes.) - his galaxy (the seven alternative to my world)

saeran:

okay so - it’s assumed that saeran is actually a DID system but i’m writing for good end saeran because um - lets be honest the alters were not the most healthy and probably wouldn’t have been doing any pet name calling (ray being too insecure, black suit saeran and unknown... being black suit saeran and unknown? it would have been sarcastic and mean)

after all of the hardships you guys had gone through... saeran was TERRIFIED that you would leave because why on earth would you want to stick by with him i mean?? all he had known his whole life is literally mistreatment he thought you were too good to be true. but you stuck by and you gave him what he had needed for so long - you always made him feel safe and he finally belonged somewhere, felt like the world wasn’t ALWAYS out for him, he could breathe easier now. very reluctant at first - messing up with you especially gave him paralyzing fear. but then you showed him such loyalty, he looked at you and saw that yes you made mistakes, that you were human, and you reminded him that it was okay to be human too. so slowly he trusted that you would accept him being affectionate back - he wanted to appreciate you like you appreciated him - despite all of the flaws he saw in himself constantly. (WHOO I LOVE SAERAN SO MUCH OMG CAN YOU TELL??)

pet names include: - angel (do i need to explain this?? you’ve saved his life - his future, everything. he sees you with a halo around your head constantly, even at your darkest moments, because he’s been there before too!) - flower (at first glance may seem like a cute thing because ray liked gardening - which sure part of it is that - but moreover he talks about your beauty when he uses this pet name, about how happy you make him, he sees you as someone delicate and gentle yet at the same time someone bold and bright - someone that the world NEEDS) - sunshine (you brighten his day, his month, his year, his life - aaand well a garden does need sunshine doesn’t it? you keep him going when he feels like giving up) - love and dear (too classic not to be included with a man that wore fancy suits JHGH) - sweetheart/sweetie/honey (along with his big sweet tooth - he thinks you’re the sweetest person he’s ever met) - sugarplum (pls let me have this)

*mx is like m(r)s and mr but for non-binary folks :)

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