#i gotta be up 5 tomorrow but im staring at the ceiling thinking about this whole thing

[imageingrunge]

So um got to that scene w asatrion,……….its a whole thing

so like an immense sense of guilt followed me thru the durge playthrough cuz of what happened in last light inn, which I wouldn't have even felt THAT bad abt if I hadn't tried really hard to save Jahiera and the nightsong. Like I am the reason she had to kill her girlfriend n I feel so bad about that I don’t even go near her side of camp……..sheesh n don’t get me started on jahiera like she deserved a warriors death I literally obliterated the harpers n then I take her w me to baldur's gate n orin wipes out the rest like I am her Judas

THEN we get to the murder tribunal  that’s  when I found out what happens to a bhaal spawn when they die; they become servants of their lord and technically their souls go back into bhaal so he is resurrected- and that durge is a being born from an immaculate conception, an antichrist like figure- this has been in the back of my mind while playing like damn when we die we are NOT seeing those pearly gates.

And then we went to cazador- I got this dialogue with him, since I romanced him n was like no, no we arent going to let him ascend this time its an insane choice! This 'to care is to live again' would not have hit the same if I wasn’t playing durge!! It in perfectly incapsulates my entire experience its why Rhena didn’t fuck everyone over to be the last woman alive to rule over a dead world- as Amelyssan (Bhaal's former priestess) would've done like damn w an evil durge ending Rhena could've become a messiah like figure in the bhaal cult- the power she couldve received from it, makes a nice parallel with Astarion n Cazador- was it worth it? I am HAUNTED BY consequences astarion shouldn’t be!! its like they say you may start the walk towards power as a person of dignity but ultimately you end it as a gnat

Also the way he FUCKING CRIES IM DEAD AAAAA

[horansqueen]

You & Me : chapter 28

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

Sequel to AM CONVERSATIONS

CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7 || CHAPTER 8 || CHAPTER 9 || CHAPTER 10 || CHAPTER 11 || CHAPTER 12 || CHAPTER 13 || CHAPTER 14 || CHAPTER 15 || CHAPTER 16 || CHAPTER 17 || CHAPTER 18 || CHAPTER 19 || CHAPTER 20 || CHAPTER 21 || CHAPTER 22 || CHAPTER 23 || CHAPTER 24 || CHAPTER 25 || CHAPTER 26 || CHAPTER 27

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his. -4.2k - 4.3k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

- notes: filler chapter again sorry! but i tried to make it cute! i didnt plan a sex scene but its there sooo yea haha lol

if you want to be on the list of blogs i notify when this is updated, just message me :)

requests! : 2 requests! i hope i wrote them right! love them btw! please keep sending them!!!

Chapter 28 : Her chapter

OLIVIA

I thought we would have sex before we went to bed but I must have fallen asleep faster than I wanted to. Niall also probably undressed me because when I woke up in the middle of the night, I was wearing his shirt and nothing else. I smiled, keeping my eyes closed, and brought my shoulder closer to my nose. It smelled like him even if he probably didn't wear it for too long since he had a buttoned shirt at the wedding. I turned around in bed, trying to reach him with my arm but he wasn't there and I let out a short whimper before forcing myself to open my eyes.

The room was dark and quiet and it made a shiver run in my back. I got up and realized his shirt was a bit short. I searched through my stuff for a clean pair of panties and put it on before quietly getting out of the room. Everything was dark except for a very low and warm light in the living room. I walked slowly closer and leaned against the wall when I saw Niall sitting on the couch. He was writing very quickly in his notebook and he was so concentrated that he didn't even notice me. It was always special for me to see him when he seemed to be so deep in his thoughts that no one could get in his bubble. His hair was a mess and once in a while, he ran his hand in it, making the mess even worse. I stared at him for a while as he kept his focus on the paper, wearing only his boxers and making me realize he probably woke up in the middle of the night with an idea that he couldn't let go of. Something that he knew he wouldn’t remember in the morning but that he just had to write about.

I didn't know how long I stayed there but I didn't want to interrupt him or distract him. I just walked back to the room after a while and lied down in bed, looking at the ceiling. I couldn't stop thinking about everything that had happened to me in the past few months and somehow, I felt like everything was going for the better. The more time passed, the more It seemed like I was discovering who I was and what I wanted.

It was so obvious that what I wanted was Niall but more than that, what I really wanted was a healthy relationship with Niall. I wanted us to be the kind of couple that would drip with sweetness but that also could spend time without each other without going crazy. I wanted him to be my best friend but not my only friend and I didn't want either of us to be afraid, insecure, jealous or unhappy. I knew I was asking a lot, and I knew not everything could be perfect all the time, but I knew Niall and I together could come very fucking close to perfection.

I tried to stay awake until he came back to sleep but once again, I probably had fallen asleep despite myself because when I woke up again, the sun was already up and I had a small headache. I groaned and this time, I knew he was still in bed. I could feel the warmth of his body close to mine and I turned in the sheets, wrapping my arm around his back. His cheek was flat against the mattress just like his chest and I watched him sleep, his lips parted and slightly twisted as he let out a low snore. Fuck, he was so hot and I just stared at him with my eyes half-open for a few minutes, or maybe 15? 20? Who knew?

When I realized how bad I needed to pee, I finally got up very slowly, making sure I wouldn't wake him up. He was always up before me but I knew he had been up a big part of the night to write something and I wanted him to get the rest he needed and clearly deserved.

I made coffee and stayed next to the coffee machine as I watched it fall down, yawning a few times before adding cream and sugar in my cup. I couldn't stop thinking about him going on tour and being separated from him for weeks and it made something twist in my chest. Of course, I didn't want to be the girl who would follow him everywhere. I was not that girl anymore. I was not dependent of the man I loved, and I had stuff to do and commitments, too. We were about to start filming the new season of my tv show and although I dreaded playing with Dylan I knew it was something we had to do. It would be awkward at first, for sure, but in the end, I knew he was professional and I promised myself I would be, too.

I finished my coffee but left the cup in the sink before walking to the living room. It was supposed to be a lazy day and I was surprised my head didn't hurt as much as I thought it would, or that I wasn't nauseous at all despite all the champagne I had drank the night before.

I sat on the couch and pushed the stuff on it to find the remote. It showed that I was spending time at Niall's : his place had never been so messy and I suddenly felt guilty. I finally found the remote but looked at it before sighing, putting it back on the coffee table as I took the decision to clean a bit while he was still asleep. Something caught my attention and even if I knew I shouldn't, I grabbed hos notebook to the page it was opened and started reading. Niall rarely shared his writing with random people until it was a final product and all the songs I had heard was because I had crept on him somehow. I was not proud of it but at the same time, he never really seemed angry about it. I remembered that time when we were all at his place and I had followed the sound of his guitar until I practically fell in the room like a loser as he was playing a song. At that time, I had thought it was about Heidi but now that I knew it was about me, I wished I could remember what the lyrics were. All I could remember was that I had deeply hoped that it was for me. That thought made something twist in my chest and I licked my lips before letting my eyes roam on the words I was probably not supposed to see.

"I want the world to witness When we finally say I do It's the way you love I gotta give it back to you I can't promise picket fences Or sunny afternoons But, at night when I close my eyes"

A lot of words seemed to be scratched a few times and then I could read something that seemed like a chorus.

"Yeah, I see us in black and white Crystal clear on a star lit night In all your gorgeous colors I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life See you standing in your dress Swear in front of all our friends There'll never be another I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life"

I swallowed and ran my fingers on the ink, feeling the tiny rifts and bumps in the paper and feeling my heart beating so fast in my chest that I had a hard time to breathe.

"Now, we're sitting here in your living room Telling stories while we share a drink or two And there's a vision I've been holding in my mind We're 65 and you ask "When did I first know?" I always knew."

And just when I thought it was probably not about me, I saw a word that was also scratched at the end of the lyrics and I could swear it started with a capital O. I grabbed the notebook, moving it up and putting the simple sheet where the song was written in the light. It appeared clearly. My name at the bottom. I didn't know why it was crossed out and I was not sure I wanted to know. but as I re-read the lyrics for the tenth time, I couldn't lie to myself anymore. It was a wedding song.

After a few minutes, I finally started moving again. I cleaned the living room, washed the dishes, started laundry and even started cleaning the windows. All while thinking about the song, the lyrics hitting inside my brain and doing something incredible to my heart : something I hadn't felt ever before. I would never tell him but if Niall asked me to marry him at this exact moment, I would say yes. Was it because of the great time we had the night before? Or maybe because we were so happy together these days? I had no idea. But I knew I'd say yes in a heartbeat. Tomorrow, I couldn't tell you what my answer would be but today? It would be a million times yes.

I saw him walk behind me in the reflection of the now extra clean windows and my lips immediately curled. He placed himself behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and leaning his chin on my shoulder, and suddenly, I felt so much better than I did only a few minutes ago, even if I was still happy before.

"You should have waken me up." he whispered in my ear. "I would have helped you. Especially that you're cleaning wearing only a shirt and panties. I'd love to see you on all four as you clean the floor."

I laughed and raised my nose up as he kissed a spot near my ear. It was not only my love for him that made my heart jump when he was near, it was more than that. It was who he was, who I hoped he would always be.

"Tell me you'll always do that, that you'll always say things like that."

He pulled away slightly and turned his head more to look at me. I waited for his answer but he was waiting for me to look at him and I gave in, my eyes finally meeting his.

"Hold you? Kiss you? Tell you that I love and lust you?" he asked low, raising his eyebrows. I bit my bottom lip and nodded. "I promise. I swear. You have my words. And my heart. And my body, soul and mind."

My traits softened and I turned in his arms to face him, wrapping mine around his neck, moving my chin up to kiss him. He pushed me gently against the window as we kissed and I felt my butt press against it, making me chuckle.

"I'm gonna have to clean that window again." I let out with a smile as he chuckled against my lips.

"Or, you know, we can leave it like that." he proposed, shrugging a shoulder. "Your butt print seems like a nice decoration."

I'm the one who laughed this time. "You? Leaving a dirty window without touching it? Who are you trying to fool, Horan?"

"Don't call me that." he just said in a serious tone, raising his eyebrows.

"Or what?"I asked, teasing him with a sassy voice.

"Or I'm gonna tickle you." he pointed out, making my heart skip a beat. "I'm gonna tickle you until you beg me to stop."

"Sure, Horan." I tried to provoke him, putting emphasis on his last name.

He stared at me for a few seconds but suddenly and quickly, he picked me up and brought me to the couch. I was surprised that he could actually support my weight and he finally let me fall on the couch as I bounced on the cushions but he quickly straddled me, grabbing my wrists and pulling them over my head. When was the last time we played like that? It had been so long I couldn't remember.

"Apologize now." he ordered, looking down at me.

I could feel his grip tighten on my wrists and I licked my lips. "Never."

"Last chance." he let out, making me smirk.

"Bite me, Horan."

Quickly, he brought his free hand to my waist and started tickling me. Immediately, I started squirming, trying to get out of his grip as I let out a few high pitched yells. It made him laugh and it made me remember how much I hated to be tickled. After a while, he stopped and my lips parted as I started panting.

"You looking like that? God. Makes me want to tie you up and have my way with you."

I let out a short laughter and he started tickling me again until I started screaming his name.

"Niall! Niall stop! I c-can't!"

He did as I asked and smirked. "Beg me." he let out, shaking his eyebrows. "Apologize and beg me."

"Mm, I'm so sorry, Niall." I whispered with puppy eyes. "Please I'm begging you, stop tickling me?"

"Don't you fucking pout like that, it makes me want to fuck your mouth."

I laughed louder this time, tilting my head back slightly and closing my eyes as I felt his hand run up my breasts.

"And you say I'm the horny one!"

"Heyyy!" he argued with a frown. "I fingered you last night and I didn't cum at all, remember?"

My smirk disappeared and I just smiled at him. "You want to cum now?"

He groaned and raised his nose up. "I feel like all we do is fuck."

I shrugged and he finally let go of my wrists. I brought my hands to his pants and slid one in them, raising my eyebrows again but in surprise this time.

"You went commando?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he reached for my shirt and moved it up to expose my breasts as I took his cock out of his pants, stroking him slowly with both my hands. He breathed in and then out, letting out a very short whimper and one of his hands moved back to reach between my legs. He moved two of his fingertips on my panties, brushing against my clit and I pressed my lips together. I tried to focus on what my hands were doing and spit on his cock before running my fingers right under his tip. He groaned and brought his hand back to grab one of my breasts hard and I started stroking him harder.

"That feels so fucking good." he admitted, running his thumb on my nipple. "I tried doing that to myself and it just doesn't work. It has to be your hands."

I didn't tell him but it probably could have been anyone's hands except his and even if he probably knew it, I didn't want to point it out just in case. He took his cock in his hands, making me hold my breath and take my hands away and quickly, he tapped his cock on my tits before rubbing his tip on my nipples.

"Please, petal, push your tits together."

My heart jumped so high in my chest that I had to swallow it back.

"Niall, I don't think my boobs are big enough to-"

"Do it." he cut me.

I bit my bottom lip and did as he asked, just watching him spit in his hand and rub his cock again. My lips parted when he put his cock between my breasts and he was so focused on what he was doing that he didn't even look at me again. I could pretend otherwise but watching him using me to cum was actually exciting and when he groaned, I pressed my thighs together as I felt my pussy throb. I loved the feeling of his cock sliding quickly between my breasts and the thought in itself was driving me insane. After a while, he took his dick back in his hand and started jerking off harder until his lips parted.

"Jesus Christ." he whispered as I held my breath.

He shook slightly over me, moaning low as his cum spurted on my chest and breasts. I just remained motionless as he came down from his high, letting out a low 'fuck" and rubbing his tip on my nipples again, spreading his cum on me.

He sighed and sat on me, putting his cock back in his pants as I stared at him and he shook his head.

"I'm so.. so sorry. I was just so..."

"Horny? Yea I noticed." I chuckled, letting my lips curl as he finally looked back at me.

"I didn't really give you much attention, did I?" he asked, raising his nose up. I could read guilt on his face and my lips curled. "I'm sorry, pet."

"I'm just... I'm glad I made you cum. Didn't think that would be so exciting, but it was." I admitted, pulling my shirt back over my breasts as he laughed. "Also didn't think it was possible with my boobs."

"Your boobs are perfect." he pointed out before getting up and holding his hand out for me.

I put my hand in his and his fingers gripped mine as he helped me get up, letting his eyes roam on my face. He bent down to kiss me and I closed my eyes at the way it made my heart jump in my chest.

"Lazy day yea?" he proposed in a breath, his mouth still pressed against mine. "You go take a shower and I'll close all the curtains, find a good tv show to binge on netflix, and order something, chinese maybe?"

I nodded quickly and smiled. "That sounds perfect."

I took a quick shower and put on a pair of his sweatpants and one of his shirts and when I got back in the living room, he had brought pillows and blankets, a few beers and was waiting for me with the remote in hands. I stared at him for a while, just trying to live the moment and realize how lucky I was, before finally sitting next to him. He looked up at me with a smile and I pushed the pillows away to lean against his chest as his back was against the side of the couch. His legs were spread but they moved a bit close to both my sides, kind of to trap me close to him. He tried to put the blanket over us and I helped him before squirming slightly to be more comfortable.

"Hey, watch the goods, yea?"

I laughed but still took care of where I was moving and he wrapped one of his arms around me.

"Remember this spot because food will be there in half an hour and we're gonna have to do it all over again." he said, making me groan and making him laugh. "Seriously though, it feels good to have you here with me just to have a lazy day."

I felt my heart swell and smiled more, turning to kiss his jaw gently. He looked down and his lips met mine and he deepened the kiss just as the first episode of a series we both wanted to watch started.

"How will I be able to focus on anything but you today, mm?" I let out, half-joking.

He rolled his eyes with a low chuckle and we both focused on the tv for a while. I groaned when the doorbell rang and he laughed again. I sat up to let him get up and when he came back with the food, I realized how hungry I was. we ate again in silence but I couldn't stop glancing at him. There was something endearing in the way he used his chopsticks to push the noddles in his mouth and I only realized I was staring when he turned his gaze to me and chuckled. I blinked a few times and looked away as he swallowed his food.

"It's okay, you can stare. I stare at you too, you know. You just don't notice."

I felt my heart jump in my chest and put my food away.

"Just like I stared at you for about twenty minutes in the middle of the night." I confessed, making him frown. "You were sitting here, in only your boxers, and you were writing. You were so focused on what you were doing that you never noticed me."

I couldn't add that I had found him gorgeous with his messy hair and his tired eyes. I couldn't say that I had felt a wave of love so strong that I almost started crying. I couldn't tell him that because it still embarrassed me to be so in love with him. Not because I didn't want to be, but because I was scared I would end up losing him again.

His lips curled into a smile and he pushed the air out of his lungs. "I was writing a song. For you. About you."

My lips crashed against his and he replied to the kiss quickly, pushing his tongue deep in my mouth as I whimpered. He didn't know that I had read it and I suddenly felt guilty but he literally confirmed that his lyrics were about me and somehow, it made me ecstatic. So ecstatic that I surprised myself wishing he'd ask me to marry him as soon as our lips would part.

"I didn't know if I should tell you but, Olivia, I'm so happy we're both single right now. I know it's wrong to say that but fuck, I'm happy with you. Just you and I. No guilt, no stress, no question. You and me, living this moment."

I kissed him again, not knowing what to answer. I was happy too. I was happier than I had ever been, even before we broke up, and I didn't want anything to change. I didn't want to jinx this by claiming my happiness out loud. I didn't want to risk this happiness with an official relationship because last time didn't end well. It was ridiculous. All my fears made no sense, but it didn't make them vanish to know that.

"I love you, Niall." I whispered, leaving small kisses slowly on his mouth, jaw and cheeks. "I love you more than anything. No one is you."

He finally let go of his chopsticks to cup my face and he breathed in before his mouth found mine again.

"I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life." he murmured quickly before kissing me again.

My heart jumped when I recognized the lyrics and it made me wonder how often he talked to me with his own lyrics. I wanted to hear all of them. One time, twice, three times... a hundred fucking times. I wanted him to play me all the songs that were for me, to sing them, to whisper them, to yell them. I wanted him to make love to me while he'd do it, to hold my hand as we walked outside as he'd sing, to fucking marry me as he'd yell. I wanted him to claim his love for me until I'd be tired to hear it. And deep down, I knew I'd never be.

"I have a weekend left before I leave for tour." he just said sadly, breaking my heart. "I thought we could leave. Pack a bag, take the road, only you and me, for a few days."

My lips curled so much that my cheeks started hurting and I quickly nodded. I really wanted to spend quality time with him while it was still possible and I kissed his lips again.

"That's a yes?" he made sure as I nodded. "Okay then, we're leaving in 3 days. So cancel all the plans you had."

I laughed and licked my lips, licking his at the same time because of the proximity of our mouths.

"Niall? I'm sorry, I had planned to spend all my days with you but this super hot guy just asked me on a road trip so I'm gonna have to rain check."

He laughed and shook his head slightly. "Dork."

He pulled away slightly to stare at me as we completely forgot the show playing. I grabbed the remote and put it on pause before looking back at him and tilting my head. I needed him more than I ever needed him before and it was scaring me so bad I could feel my heart trying to escape my rib cage in intense thumps.

"Tell me you love me." I whispered as I bit my bottom lip nervously. "Please, Niall."

His face changed and he moved closer. I thought he'd kiss me again but instead, he got serious and I felt him grab my hands.

"I love you, Olivia. I'm in love with you. I never stopped, not one second. And I never will. Do you want me to repeat it every day? At which frequency? Every 6 hours? 4 hours? Two? I'll put a damn alarm on my phone to tell you in the middle of the night if I have to." he said in a soft tone. "I know it was different when we dated, but I will never let you believe that you are not perfect the way you are, that you are not everything I want and need, or that you are not loved. Never again. I swear, Olivia. I fucking love you."

[sylvain-writes]

Scarlet Letters (TMNT Raphael x Reader)

Chapter 5/8: Something’s Gotta Give

Bed sharing.

(Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ao3)

“I’m not…”  Raphael shakes his head as his chin drops to his chest.  “That’s not me,” he says quietly.  And then he’s moving.

He makes it across the room before you abandon the dishes on the table to follow.  “Not what?” you ask as the turtle perches himself on the edge of the couch.  “You’re not making any sense.”

His broad shoulders slump as he sits with his elbows on his knees.  The position must be uncomfortable, but the grimace twisting his features doesn’t seem to be in response to physical pain. 

“Maybe I don’ think things through,” he mutters.  “An’ I get carried away.”  Raphael’s hands pass over each other in a smooth, yet nervous, pattern.   “But fearless?  Nah, that’s my brutha.”  A quiet chuckle breaks Raphael’s explanation; it holds more sorrow than mirth.  “Fearless.  I-I called him that sometimes, y’know?  Started as a joke when he first took up the role as our leader.  But… he earned it.  He earned it every day we-”

“Did something happen to him?��  Hearing Raphael speak in the past tense, you know that can't mean anything good.

Raphael heaves a sigh and forces another chuckle at his choice of words.  “We didn’t exactly part amicably.”

You can see Raphael is trying to keep things light, but you want him to know that he doesn’t have to.  Not with you.  

Your hand alights to his as you take a seat beside him, and you give it a gentle squeeze.  He turns his palm under yours, open to receive your touch.  Your fingers curl around his and he doesn’t let go.  You wonder, not for the first time, if he remembers holding your hand as he slept.  You wonder if he notices how perfectly your hand fits in his.

“We fought,” he goes on.  “We were always fightin’.  He followed me topside.  Then, to the rooftops where we got mixed up with some unsavories.  He probably thinks I ditched ‘im.  Probably why he told the guys not to come lookin’ fo’ me.”

“Raphael.”  There’s no doubt of your affection when you speak his name.  With his hand in yours, it doesn’t feel like this thing between you is one-sided.  “I don’t believe for a second that your brothers don’t want to look for you.”

“They ain’t the ones that dragged me outta that alley.  They ain’t found me here.”  He has no idea just how bad the weather conditions have gotten.

“There’s a foot of snow on the ground and a thick layer of ice on top of that,” you explain with a sympathetic frown.  “No one is out looking for anybody.  Fearless or Hot-head, I doubt any of you turtle guys handle the cold well.”  

“Heh, sure.”

Knocking your shoulder against him doesn’t feel like colliding with a wall.  There’s give to the rippling muscles of Raphael’s arm.  There’s a playful quality to the way he sways, going along with your action.   

“Red,” you remind him, “you were slipping in and out of consciousness all night.  As soon as the temperature rises above freezing, we’ll get you home.”

His hand gently releases yours and your heart sinks at the loss, but then it’s back.  The pad of Raphael’s thumb drags across your knuckles as he sits in thought.  Each pass of his thumb eases your anxiety.  His quietude convinces you that he’s taking your concerns to heart.  

“I should call them,” he says hesitantly, like it’s a responsibility he knows he can’t put off any longer.  “Where’s my pack?”

You drag your lower lip between your teeth, knowing you should have searched sooner.  “There wasn’t one.  I had to make sure you were gonna be OK before I checked the alley.”

Though leaving Raphael’s side isn’t something you feel ready to do, you know it’s time to show him what you found.

From the credenza at the front door, you retrieve the forked weapon and smashed communication device.

Raphael accepts both from you in stunned silence before setting the sai aside.  The remains of the shell phone lie in pieces in his hands.  

“It must have gotten damaged during your fall from the roof.”

Raphael’s reluctance to speak with his brothers is replaced by urgency.  “I gotta get back out there.  If somebody stole that pack-”  In his rush to stand, Raphael’s knees buckle and he lets out a pained grunt.

“Easy.”

“My bruthas could be in trouble.”  Unsteady on his feet, he reaches out to find support.  His hand clamps onto your shoulder with a grip strong enough to hold him up, but you marvel at his control.  He doesn’t hurt you.  Even when it would have been easy for him to get lost in his own panic and pain, to forget how fragile you are in comparison, he keeps your safety in mind.  

Instinctively, you do the same for him.  With a hand on his waist, you draw attention to the fresh bandages protecting his side. “Raphael,” you warn him, “you’re in no condition to go out there.”

His eyes plead for your understanding, for your consent.  “But I gotta.”

Your hand pets the exposed skin of Raphael’s hip and encourages him closer.  You don’t want to watch him beg, but you can’t bear to look away.  “Then, we go together.  Tomorrow.  After we’ve both gotten some real rest.” 

“But-”  His anxious resolve is fading.  He’s listening to you.  

“Tomorrow.”

Raphael touches the bandage at his side and his fingers meet yours.  As he looks down at your hands together, the bulk of his impatience dissolves into a sigh.  “Yeah, yeah,” he concedes.  “Tomorrow.”

⁂

“Are you gonna make this weird?” you tease, pulling up the blankets to climb into the sofabed.

Raphael huffs as you lie back on the pillow opposite him.  “I’m not gonna make it weird.”

“Really?  Cause you’ve been looking everywhere but at me when I’m the only other person in the room, and I gotta say, that’s making it feel a little weird.”

“You’re da one makin’ it weird by talkin’ about it.”

“Uh huh.”  Staring at the ceiling, you fill your lungs and heave a heavy sigh.

⁂

After discovering that an hour trading huffs and hums does nothing to dissipate the awkwardness, Raphael concedes defeat.  “Y’know, I gotta admit, dis is weird.”

You roll onto your side to stare at the wall of blankets and couch cushions the turtle has piled between you.  “Can’t imagine why."  

Weird or not, you leave the pillows in place.  If they help Raphael feel even slightly better about sharing a bed, you won't pressure him into taking them down.

⁂

It’s a testament to your exhaustion that you’re able to fall asleep as easily as you do.  You don’t mean to.  Your intention is to stay up, to make sure Raphael is able to settle before you succumb to your need to rest.  

It’s the bounce of the mattress, the soft groans as Raphael struggles in discomfort, that wake you.

“What’s wrong?” you ask groggily, but as soon as you’re up, you know.  You can feel the chill from the tip of your nose to the ache in your fingers. 

He says, “It’s nothin’,” like you can’t hear the chatter of his teeth.

You hug the heavy quilt around your shoulders and call his bluff.  “You’re cold.”

“Gee, you must be a friggin’ mind reader.”

You secretly wish that were true.  “I’m a nurse, actually. And warm-blooded. And even I'm freezing.”

There’s no response from beyond the wall.

With a sigh of exasperation, you take a calculated risk.  One cushion at a time, you pull the barrier down.  Raphael doesn’t protest.  Surprisingly enough, you find him lying same as you were, facing the center of the bed, quilt drawn up to his chin.  

“The cold ain’t gonna kill me,” he insists.

Suppressing the urge to roll your eyes, you smile.  “I can help with that, if you let me.”

“What, ya gonna kill me?” he jests.

You level him with a glare, but tease him in kind.  “Maybe.”

"Ha," he laughs.  It’s one note, one puff of air straight from his chest.  But it’s genuine, and even in the dark, you can see him smile.  “Alright, alright.  Easy, Killa.” 

As you're adjusting the blankets to better insulate and share your heat, Raphael goes still.

"Whaddaya got there?" he asks.

You play dumb. You know what he's asking. You're wearing a sleeveless top specifically to help share your body's warmth, so of course the scar on your shoulder is exposed.  "What's what?"

The press of Raphael's fingertips beside the scar comes as a surprise.  The old wound hurts the same as always - dull and persistent - but the chill of Raphael's fingers soothes the ache.

"It happened a long time ago.  I was just a kid."

"You were just a kid," Raphael’s whisper is as soft as the touch of his fingertips as he traces the lines of the old wound.  "Someone did this to a kid?"

"How do you know someone did this? Maybe I fell.  Maybe it was surgery. Maybe-"

"Sure,” Raphael placates.  His fingers continue to follow the dark branching veins that spread from your scar’s center.  “Maybe. But it wasn't, was it?"

It’s your turn to look away.  The memories of that night flood your mind - the loss of your father, the searing pain as a nameless poison stained your blood, your other parent’s listless stare as you wept.  Crying didn’t solve anything back then.  But now, for the first time in ages, your nose burns with the threat of oncoming tears.

You clear your throat and dash your hands over your eyes.  In your rush to stave off the tears, you end up knocking Raphael’s hand off of your shoulder.  The loss of his touch is all the worse knowing that his retreat is your fault.  

You want it back.  You want Raphael close.   Your mouth opens and closes without sound, your words trapped behind the lump in your throat.  

Frustrated and torn by your want to be held and your need to hold yourself together, you push your fists against your eyes and turn your face into your pillow.  You let out a long breath in a rush.

The room is silent save for the squeaks of the mattress springs as Raphael shifts his position.  He doesn’t say anything when he brings your hands down from your face.  He’s quiet as he slides one of his hands over your shoulder and down your back.  You don’t even think he’s breathing until you’re safely nestled within his embrace. 

“I don’t need you to pity me,” you mumble as he wraps you up in his arms.

“Pity?  What pity?”  With your cheek resting on his bicep, the soft caress of his fingers over your scalp eases your mind.  His lips move against your hairline as he speaks.  “You keep braggin’ about all that body heat.  I'm just cashin’ in."

The lie is as much a comfort as the hand rubbing circles up and down your spine.  

A low churr vibrates within Raphael’s chest as you trace the lines of his plastron.  It takes you by surprise; you think it may take Raphael by surprise, as well.  Still, he settles.  You trace the line that divides his pectorals again.  And when the churring picks up, it’s so strong it tickles the tips of your fingers. 

As if his response to your touch isn’t encouragement enough, Raphael inches toward you until you yield to your own desire and close the rest of the gap. The tension in Raphael's muscles relax, and his arms wrap around you in full. 

"I'm pretty friggin' cold," he admits like maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world.  "So, I’m thinkin’ that I maybe gotta hold onto ya for a little while."

"Mhmm,” you hum, burrowing into the crook of his shoulder.  “Can’t let all my work rescuing you go to waste."  Your lazy smile curls against the warming skin of Raphael’s neck and your eyes drift closed once more.  

As you sink into each other’s embrace, Raphael rests his cheek upon your head. "Exactly my point."

Dreamily, you agree, "It's a good one."

[mooksie01]

With Teammates Like These, Who Needs Friends (4/5)

Chapter Summary: It turns out that the only thing worse than a tense first date in an airship... is an awkward first date in a haunted dust mine.

Or: In which Clover feels like a moron, Elm causes problems, and nobody knows how to deal with a crush.

Warnings: More swearing, canon-typical combat, SPOILERS for V7C3, light angst

AO3 Link: [X]

Link to First Chapter: [X]

Notes: THIS IS A REPOST. Tumblr basically blanked my first attempt at posting this a few hours ago. Hopefully this one will actually show up. 

Long chapter today to make up for the short one yesterday! I hope you all enjoy!

Please like, reblog, and comment if you like this chapter, and thank you so much to all of you who have been! Your support means the world!

(Just to preface, I haven't edited this chapter as thoroughly as I usually do, as I'm currently in the process of packing to go back to college tomorrow. I might come back later and give it another run-over when I have time, but for now, I'm sorry if there are any major mistakes or awkward spots in the chapter!)

---

Walking through the abandoned dust mines with Qrow, Clover can’t help but be… a little distracted.

Up until now, Clover had only ever seen the other man move in a manner so instinctively disconnected and introverted that he’d just assumed that that was how Qrow always was. Now, though, he sees that he was wrong before; beside him, Qrow marches forward, back straight, shoulders carefully held lax in preparation for any possible conflict, head high, and eyes shining with a startling clarity and determination that takes Clover’s breath away.

In short, he’s a vision and it’s a herculean task not to stare.

Still, Clover is a soldier first and foremost, and he doesn’t allow himself to be sucked in so much that he might lose focus on the mission.

After a few long moments punctuated by nothing but his team’s routine check-ins, Qrow speaks up, “Gotta say, ’m still not really used to working with other huntsmen in the field.”

Clover glances at him out of the corner of his eye, mentally jumping hurdles in an attempt to figure out what the best route to steer this conversation in would be. He decides to tread lightly--nothing too personal. “But you were on a team before, weren’t you?” he asks, as though he doesn’t already know. That should be safe.

Qrow sighs softly and his gaze darts to the ground.

Fuck.

Just kill him already.

“Long time ago…” Qrow’s voice comes out sounding gruffer than usual, “I’ve just found working alone tends to be for the best.”

Clover’s heart constricts in his chest. What is he supposed to do?! He’s already upset Qrow (twice, now!), how is he supposed to avoid doing it again?! He doesn’t want him to shut himself off from the Ace Ops just because Clover can’t stop sticking his foot in his mouth! Should he comfort him? He seems like he needs comfort. Fuck, he has to respond. What can he say?!

“Well, I think that’s a shame,” he blurts out, and immediately wants to punch himself.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, he is saved from having to ruminate over his social missteps when Qrow suddenly pitches forward, his foot catching on the uneven terrain of the cave floor underneath them.

Clover dives after him, seizing him by one arm and grunting with the unexpected strain of having to pull his partner back to his feet, then moves one hand to clasp his shoulder and make sure he’s steady. He is unsure if he has his skill or his semblance to thank for the feat, but he is grateful nonetheless to whichever it is.

He determinedly does not think about how this is the second time today that he has gotten the opportunity to hold Qrow close. Because that would be weird.

Once Qrow is standing again, they stare at each other for what feels like a long time, but is probably only a split-second. Clover feels like tiny nevermores are making a mess of his insides the longer he looks into Qrow’s eyes.

Then, those incredibly nice-looking eyes narrow into a slight glare and Qrow takes a firm step back. Rather than think about what he’s messed up this time, Clover decides that now would be a perfect time to report in to his team.

“Alpha, here. Give me an update.”

Qrow falls into step behind him as they proceed forward. Once again, the minutes pass mostly in silence but for the intermittent interruptions of their comms. Unlike Squads Bravo and Charlie, they see no sign of any sentinels or the target itself, but Clover has a feeling that they will soon enough.

His comm buzzes in his ear and makes a soft beeping noise, a signal that someone is contacting him through the Ace Ops’ private channel. Clover is about to answer aloud, but stops when a quiet series of taps and drags echoes down the line. It takes him a second to realize he’s being spoken to through morse code. His heart starts racing. They almost never use morse code in the field. Has something gone wrong?

He listens closely.

“ ....  ---  .--  …  /  -.--  ---  ..-  .-.  /  -...  ..  .-.  -..  “

HOWS YOUR BIRD

He takes a deep breath in and steadily lets it out through his nose. Now is not the time to figure out if it’s possible to throttle someone through a comm line. Instead, he tries to discreetly raise a hand to his ear and respond:

“  ..  --  /  --.  ---  ..  -.  --.  /  -  ---  /  ..-.  ..  .-.  .  /  -.--  ---  ..-  “

IM GOING TO FIRE YOU

“Who are we firing?”

Clover startles, whipping his head around to look at Qrow. The other man stares impassively at him, a single eyebrow raised. Clover swallows hard because oh no, he’s hot. “Nobody. Well, Elm, probably.”

“What did she do?” Qrow asks, quickening his pace half a step until he is walking shoulder-to-shoulder with Clover again.

“Fooling around on comms during a mission. Don’t worry about it.” Clover stops walking, turning to face Qrow, who takes the hint and also comes to a halt. “How do you know morse code?”

Qrow shrugs, folding his arms over his chest. “Just a useful skill for a huntsman to have, isn’t it?”

Clover scrutinizes Qrow for a long moment, detecting that there’s something more to that. Unfortunately, though, he’s not Robyn, and he doesn’t know Qrow well enough yet to pick up on any tells he may have, so he just nods and they continue walking.

“Must’ve been something real interesting,” Qrow says after a few more minutes spent in silence, “to get you to blush like that.”

Clover’s steps falter. His face grows hot as he stares after Qrow’s retreating back.

Fuck.

He isn’t allowed to stew in his embarrassment for long, as their target suddenly phases through the cavern wall and appears right in front of them. Before Clover can even react, Qrow has already drawn his weapon and started shooting one-handed at the geist.

While Qrow keeps the creature busy, Clover shakes himself out of his stupor and speaks into his comm, “This is Alpha! We’ve engaged the target!” He pulls Kingfisher from his belt. “All squads head towards our position!” He extends the pole, and casts out the line, hoping to catch the geist by its ribs and haul it in before it can reach any materials to build a body out of. Unfortunately, his shot misses, the hook clattering to the ground just as the target darts into a giant chunk of ice sitting on the cavern floor.

Pieces of rock and ice begin to float into the air around them, pulled unrelentingly into the geist’s orbit. Clover curses under his breath and rushes forward, hoping to snag the geist and pull it out of its half-formed body before it can finish construction….

...Only to hear Qrow’s panic-filled voice echo from behind him, “Wait, stop!”

Clover looks up just in time to see a large metal beam tumble from the ceiling above. He raises his arms and takes a stumbling step back as it crashes into the ground just a few feet in front of him.

When the dust settles, he peers down into the hole it had made, taking the target with it.

Dammit.

He knows for certain that that beam would’ve done some serious damage if not for Qrow’s warning. He probably wouldn’t have died, but he certainly would’ve been out of commission for more than a little while.

Still, the target got away, and as Qrow runs to stand beside him, he reports in to the rest of the teams, “Target escaped. Last seen headed east.”

He shoots a sideways glance at Qrow, who is staring contemplatively down into the chasm, a strange light in his eyes that Clover can’t quite comprehend.

He looks back into the seemingly-bottomless darkness. Kicks a medium-sized stone into the newly-made pit in an attempt to get a rough estimate of how deep it goes. “Thanks for the call-out,” he says, suddenly remembering that he should probably express his gratitude toward Qrow for saving him an awful lot of injured leave. He props a hand on his hip and shifts his weight as the rock lands below. “That could’ve been bad.”

Qrow sighs heavily next to him, “I wouldn’t thank me….”

Clover is taken aback at the sheer amount of self-loathing and shame loaded into those four little words. He looks at Qrow. The other man is firmly avoiding his gaze, and the strange quality that Clover had noticed in his eyes earlier now registers in the back of his mind as guilt.

This… was not the Qrow Branwen that Clover had thought he’d be dealing with. Just a few hours ago, he couldn’t fathom a world in which such a famous huntsman would be anything less than confident and secure in himself, but it is becoming increasingly clear that that assumption couldn’t have been more wrong, as the intense self-contempt Clover hears seems to settle within a well-worn place in Qrow’s face and voice.

Qrow angles his upper body away a bit more so Clover can no longer see his expression. “My semblance brings Misfortune. Sometimes… I can’t keep it under control.” His voice gets weaker at the end of the sentence. His fists clench weakly at his sides.

Clover’s chest seizes with some unnamed emotion.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Of course Qrow had been upset this morning--his semblance was literally bad luck and here Clover had been, walking around with a bunch of good luck charms and making luck-based puns.

Reviewing the events of the past hours, more and more pieces fall into place. Qrow’s sudden shift in mood from playful to downtrodden after they’d run into each other, how he’d repeatedly downplayed his hurt feelings as “dramatics,” the way he’d said on the airship that he “couldn’t blame” Clover for--for what?

He remembers the way Qrow had gestured to his ensemble earlier. His world tilts on its axis.

Oh, Brothers, Qrow thought that Clover already knew his semblance and had been wearing all of his charms as some sort of twisted precautionary measure. To ward off him. A human person with thoughts and feelings.

Stupid, stupid, so stupid.

He shakes his brain’s attempts at self-punishment away. What’s more important at the moment is that he now knows what’s wrong, and that he can fix it, and Clover decides in this moment, a million thoughts running through his head, that he no longer cares about the other Ace Ops’ teasing. If hanging around Qrow from here on out is what it will take to boost this gorgeous man’s self-confidence, then that’s what Clover will do.

“That so?” Clover asks, as though he hasn’t been rethinking every single one of their interactions up to this point. When Qrow turns to look at him, eyes wide with shock, having obviously expected a far worse reaction, Clover flashes him the most reassuring smile in his repertoire (and that’s saying something, since he has a lot of reassuring smiles saved up at this point). “Well, hey,” he says, purposefully making a show of glancing casually at his scroll’s screen and extending Kingfisher, “don’t beat yourself up about it.”

(He hopes desperately that this remark comes off as encouraging, rather than callous.)

He pulls down what’s left of the metal beam that had almost crushed him, resulting in a small-scale landslide that just-so-happens to give them a way down with which to follow the target.

He turns to face Qrow, making direct eye contact with the other man, who seems to have frozen in place.

And hey.

“My semblance is good fortune….”

If he can get in a little flirting while he’s hanging around the aforementioned gorgeous man?

“...lucky you, huh?” He gives the other a wink as he speaks. Qrow’s eyes widen. Clover raises his eyebrows and turns away, watching Qrow until the last possible moment.

Well, that’s neither here nor there.

---

More Notes: And there we go! Only one chapter left in this part of the series! I'm glad everyone seems to be liking it so far, and I'm so, so thankful to those of you who have been so kind and supportive in the comments. You're all amazing! Lots of love, fair game rights <3

[yoong-seok]

Ring, Ring

Pairing: yoongi x reader, romantic or platonic, up to you! 

Genre: Fluff, comfort

Word Count:  1362

Warnings: This does bring up/deal with panic attacks and anxiety attacks. 

A/N:  Hi! I haven’t posted in a long time mainly bc I kept writing, editing, deleting, and so on. This took two months...and even now I’m not fully satisfied, but sometimes you just gotta let things GO. I’m thinking of having a lil mini-series? with each of the members. It’ll be called Ring, Ring! I hope you guys enjoy, and as always any critique is welcomed! (also im sorry if there are still some mistakes!) I want to also shout out to @versigny !!! I had asked her if I could use a line she had used in her fic bc I loved it so much and it tbh inspired this and she was sooooo nice and kind. Pls follow her (but u prob already do bc her writing is beautiful). I didn’t end up using it, but her kindness is just something I have to thank her for!

Within the expanse of your bed, you feel cold. As you lay curled up, head bowed down, legs brought up your stomach in a loose fetal position, your teeth chattering and your heart feeling lonely. Growing up, you had the comfort of your loved ones. From summer vacations with your cousins, piling on the beds, sharing blankets and jokes; to winter holidays, fitting too many onto a small loveseat as you opened any gifts and shared stories. You never once felt alone. The warmth and love had always washed over you, and you’ve grown so used to it.

But, now, you’re all alone. Far from your family with a new house in a new city, a new job, and a new life. It’s overwhelming. The emptiness of your house is suffocating. You take in each breath from your nose, the icy air stinging as it travels down to your lungs and back out again. Tomorrow, you were going to walk around and acquaint yourself with the new surroundings, but you don’t want to. You want to go back home. Back to warmth. Back to your family—their love and reassurance. Back to-

"Hello?" you hear. As you calm down, you notice you’re sitting against the bed frame, phone in hand. Briefly, you check the screen to see who’s on the other side of the phone.

"Yoongi," you try to breathe out, but the panic attack still hasn't left your lungs, so you barely choke out the 2 syllables.

"Hey, what's wrong? Are you okay?" his voice is gruff, laden with concern. You don’t even know what time it is, but the sky absorbs the aura of lights from the city. "Hey, it's okay. You’re at your new place, right?  I'll be there in 5 minutes. Do you want me to stay on the line until I get there?" You shake your head and croak out no. "I'll see you soon."

You hang up and only then do you notice the time: 2 AM. He was sleeping, and you woke him up because you didn’t know how to be alone. How stupid. Your breathing became ragged. Hiccups falling between every few breaths. You wipe your tears harshly and quickly go to your call logs to call Yoongi back. Tell him he doesn't need to come over. You're sorry, you shouldn't have disturbed him, he has a full schedule tomorrow and he needs as much sleep as he can. Yet, as the ringing continues, you know that he’s already on his way.

You’ve known Yoongi for nearly half your life. The two of you had met in high school. As a lonely freshman, you walked around during lunch period, trying to find somewhere to eat. You decided to sit next to the music classroom. Finishing your sandwich, you heard someone playing the piano from inside the room. You peeked through the small window and saw the back of the blue suit from the school uniform. The soft notes of Fur Elise were playing before he stopped and began playing a piece that was unfamiliar to you. It sounded good. He was really good. The lunch bell rang and he turned, seeing you staring at him. You quickly threw your lunch in the trash and ran to class, feeling your face grow hot.

The next time you saw him was later that day when you were waiting for your mom to pick you up. You were staring at your phone and didn’t notice him walk next to you.

“You were outside the music room, right?” his low voice asked. You jumped slightly. Your ears grew warm as you recognized the face.

“Um...yeah. Sorry…” you mumbled. He said nothing for a moment, and you feared that he would make fun of you.

“Why were you sitting alone for lunch?” he asked. You looked up at him, but he kept his eyes forward.

“Oh, um, I’m a freshman. I don’t have friends, yet...” you answered him, slightly shocked that he was keeping a conversation with you. He paused again.

“Did you like it?” he asked in a softer tone. “Not Fur Elise...the other thing.”

“Oh yeah! I didn’t recognize it, but it was really good.”

“It was uh....” he sighed, “It was my own song. I’ve been working on it for a while.” Your eyes widened.

“No way! It was so good. It sounded beautiful! I don’t know much about music, but it was really pretty.” He finally looked down at you and you found yourself mesmerized by his brown eyes, and beautiful pale skin. And he let out a small smile. You found yourself smiling back at him.

“My name is Yoongi.” He sticks his hand out for you to shake.

“I’m ____.”

The doorbell rings through your apartment. You get up from bed and open the door.

He’s in sweats and a stained t-shirt that is likely from the laundry basket. A light black jacket covers his frame. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his black hair was sticking out in all directions. He walks inside, arms reaching out to a hug. The jacket and t-shirt have residual cologne, a musky scent with a mix of something you couldn't place...kimchi?

"Hey, I'm sorry. I was already driving when you called and it was on vibrate, I didn't hear it or see it until I got here," he says, the gruffness from earlier still lingering. “Are you okay?” Why is he apologizing? You’re the one who called him in the middle of the night, woke him up, made him worried enough to drive to your apartment. He has nothing to apologize for, you did.

“I’m okay. I’m sorry for worrying you and waking you up, I bet you have work tomorrow,” you mumble into his shirt, the sound of your voice muffled.

“Psshh, no. I was already up,” he says. You give him a knowing look. He tries to keep a straight face but gives up after your continued glare. “Okay, so I was sleeping, but don’t be sorry. I’m glad you called me.” You groan lightly into his shirt and mumble out another apology. "Let's go to bed," his voice barely reaches your ears. You nod noticing your lack of energy. You lay down and he sits against the headboard. He's being so kind and patient, not forcing you to say anything or asking any questions. It reminds you of how nurturing he is. You don't deserve him.

"I just got so overwhelmed," your voice is soft, yet the cracks from the panic attack are still reminiscent. You stare at the ceiling. He hums. You turn and face him. Instinctively, you burrow into his chest.  Yoongi lightly wraps his arms around you before speaking,

"Do you want to talk about it?" You deeply breathe in his hearty scent again. Your eyes flutter shut. Home.

“I’m just so alone," you begin to ramble. "I always had friends or family with me, but now, I’m by myself and I don’t know anyone here, and I’m so scared to go out and have to experience everything all alone. It’s too much for me.”

Yoongi is silent.

"I know you don’t want to hear me say that you’re not alone…I hated it when everyone said it to me…” You realize he probably went through a similar experience when he first moved to Seoul so many years ago. “Everything feels so scary. And it seems like you’ll never fit in.

“But, you’ll make friends. You’ll meet people. You think you’ll feel lonely forever, but I promise it won’t.” He lifts your head. The deep coffee of his eyes stare into your soul. You feel vulnerable. You feel naked. "And you have me and the boys. You can always call us.” He smiles, looking into your eyes. Feeling the original comfort of warmth, love, and reassurance, you smile back.

You don't know how to respond or what to say. Yoongi brushes his lips against your hair and you grip onto him. The change wouldn't happen overnight. Not much will change over the next few weeks. But, you feel safe knowing that Yoongi is by your side for the unknown future.