#I'm just complaining at this point but please remember likes don't really mean anything

[tadfools]

Stop! Are you actively making Tumblr.com worse???

[scentedpeachlandcreator]

How to manifest your desired body:

So i noticed that this topic which everyone struggle with, so i'm gonna talk about it here in this post.

!! Note !!: Okay first of all, please After this post don't send me Asks or questions, get it together and apply the Law and you'll thank me later.

Okay let's start!

Firstly let's simplify the Law of assumption :

Deciding and assuming that you have your desires + knowing it yours and that creation is finished + not Caring about the 3d and persisting in your assumption + Moving on with your life with the knowing feeling that you have your desires.

Done, that it, it is easy right?

And just let the work to your subconscious.

Let clear some limiting beliefs you have, shall we?

Is it possible to change my bone structure? YES.

Is it possible to go from fat to skinny overnight? YES.

Is it possible to have the exact same body of my visual board from Pinterest? YES.

Is it possible to have those anime/manhwa body? YES.

Is it possible to have a thigh gap and a hourglass body? YES.

Is it possibl-? SHHH, you Heard me, yes, the answer would Always be yes, why? As long you Can see it in your mind then it is possible.

Now to the important part.

How to deal with the 3d?

Hold up- first of all, why do you need to check the 3d when you already affirmed a minute Ago that you already have your desired Body? Seriously? Pull yourself together 🗣️👏🏻

YOU ALREADY HAVE YOUR DREAM BODY! done, that it, no question, no when or how, no but, no anything.

When i tell you that creation is finished, i really mean it.

I mean Come on! Manifestation is instant, the moment you affirm you have your desired body which mean it is NOW, not in the future or in the past, you have it in your imagination NOW, and that what matters, you just need to keep persisting and let the work to your subconscious, just don't freak out or start checking the Time and yada yada.

Just know that the 3d will change and will adapt to your 4d.

Seeing yourself in the mirror and nothing changed? Nope i already have it.

Your family or your mutuals pointing out at your appearance? Nope, i already have my desired body, i'm beautiful.

Time is running out? I have my desired body NOW.

Always flip your thought when seeing the opposite in the 3d, well that because the subconscious mind doesn't know what happening around you, it only hear your thought, so when for example your mother saying to you that you look fat or skinny well in your mind just flip your thought saying "oh yeah, i already have my desired body, i mean i'm very sexy", you know where i'm going with this?

That all you need to do.

Accept that it is done, and move on with your life, you know you already have your desired body like you know you have the phone in your hand, you are not going to Wonder where it is when it is obviously in your imagination, you see it in your mind? Then you have it now! Congratulations! You have such an incredible body!

You Can Do whatever you want in the 3d, you Can eat whatever you want and with the knowing that you're skinny or lean.

Stop complaining, stop asking, stop Being in the state of lack, stop Being Desperate, stop dreaming, stop wishing, stop making excuses, just STOP AND START APPLYING THE LAW!

It is very easy, you're just making it more complicated.

YOU'RE THE GOD OF YOUR OWN REALITY! YOU CONTROL EVERYTHING! SO STOP SAYING THAT MANIFESTING YOUR DESIRES IS HARD!

Remember: Everything Comes from you.

Now get your ass up and start manifesting.

If you want to loss weight read my post if you want ➜ (click here!).

Also if you have any struggle with your manifestation or the 3d i advice you to visit the page of @shradsmanifestt

Xoxo, Eli

[flickering-chandelier]

Was Any Of It True?

Pairing: badboy!Azriel x goodgirl!Reader

Summary: Modern/College AU! Az’s on-again-off-again girlfriend gives Azriel a proposition: make the new bookworm fall in love with him, then break her heart, in exchange for anything he wants. He agrees, but things get complicated when he falls for Reader for real.

Based on this request! 🩷

✨ Part 2 ✨ Part 3 ✨

Warnings: angst, sexual language?, swearing, Azriel & friends being assholes

Word Count: 10.2k   oh lord sorry besties I couldn’t shut my little brain off

“I'm telling you, Az, she's pissing me off. The professor loves her, and I saw that she got a 100 on the exam,” Claire was seething while she and Azriel lounged in his apartment, eating the pizza he'd ordered.

“Mhmm,” he mumbled around his pizza, only half listening. Claire was always complaining about something. “And what did you get?”

“98! He took two points off because I didn't answer thoroughly enough,” she scoffed. “God, I hate her. She's going to push me right off the top of the Dean's list.”

Azriel blinked. “I mean, you'll still be very near the top of the list.”

Claire groaned, throwing her napkin onto her paper plate angrily, “That's not good enough!”

He rolled his eyes and she glared at him. “Don't be an ass! This is a big deal to me.”

“Oh, I know it is. This girl is all you talk about.”

“Because I hate her. Maybe if she got laid, she’d be distracted enough to slip up once in a while,” she grumbled.

“Yeah, maybe,” Azriel said, pulling his laptop out of his backpack and setting it on the table, a sufficient signal that he didn’t want to talk about his girlfriend’s arch nemesis anymore. 

No more than a week later, Azriel’s on-again-off-again girlfriend was off-again, and honestly, he was relieved. Claire’s obsession with being at the top of the academic food chain was bordering on insanity, and he was glad he didn’t have to hear about it anymore.

He was currently at a house party that Cassian had dragged him to, with a blonde girl that he couldn’t remember the name of sitting in his lap, one of her arms draped behind his neck, the other resting on his chest. She had been whispering in his ear all the things that she wanted to do to him, before Cassian interrupted, handing Azriel a shot with a grin. 

Blondie scowled at Cassian, who just smirked back as the girl that Cass had been talking to earlier sidled up next to him, wrapping her arms around his middle. 

Azriel knocked the shot back and handed the cup it had come in to the blonde girl. “Can you get me another one?”

She seemed annoyed, but took the cup from him anyway, striding into the kitchen. 

“Sorry for interrupting,” Cassian said, settling on the couch next to him, before pulling the girl onto his lap.

Azriel rolled his eyes. “Like I give a shit.”

Cassian snickered as the blonde girl came back, draping herself in his lap again, handing him another shot. He drank it, just as Claire appeared before him, her arms crossed over her chest, and her brow furrowed.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice husky.

“I have a proposition for you.”

He smirked, making a show of tightening his grip on the blonde girl’s waist. “No, thanks. Been there, done that.”

“Not that kind of proposition, you idiot. Can we talk privately? I think it’ll be worth your while,” she said, her lips turning up into a sultry smile.

“I don’t know, Claire, I’m pretty busy right now,” he said, turning his gaze to the blonde girl, squeezing her thigh. She sighed dreamily, leaning further into him.

Claire groaned. “Look, Az, I really need your help. Please?” 

Azriel studied Claire, and he could see that it was true. She was wearing her most annoyed, don’t-fuck-with-me face, but her eyes were pleading. Sad.

He sighed, glancing apologetically at the girl in his lap before turning back to Claire. “Fine, we can talk.”

She led him into someone’s empty bedroom and shut the door behind her. 

“If this is about that girl you’re obsessed with, so help me,” he said. She winced, and he threw his head back. “Unbelievable. Claire, I don’t want to hear about this anymore! I don’t care about your problems.”

“Just hear me out!”

He crossed his arms over his chest, and raised an eyebrow at her, waiting.

“She actually is threatening my spot on the Dean’s list now,” she said, looking close to tears.

He looked pointedly at her. “And?”

“And I was thinking about what I said earlier… about how if a really hot guy was interested in her, maybe she would stop caring about her grades so much,” she said, smiling at him now.

“And?” Azriel just wished she would get to the point.

Claire sighed, exasperated. “I need you to seduce her.”

Azriel barked out a laugh, leaning his shoulder against the nearest wall. “You’re kidding, right? Why would I do that?”

She stepped closer to him, trailing a finger along his chest, her touch feather-light through his black t-shirt. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, “Because I asked? Because I’ll give you anything you want,” she said, her voice dropping seductively.

He held her gaze, leaning down until their mouths were a breath away. Azriel heard her breath hitch.

Then he pulled away rapidly, and she blinked. “Sweetheart, you know I can fuck you anytime I want, right? That is not going to persuade me to help you.”

Her brow furrowed, her nose scrunching up. Oh, she was furious. Azriel's mouth turned up into his calculated half smile.

“What do you want, Az?” she huffed.

“Hmm,” he said, taking his time to think. Claire scowled. “I haven’t decided yet. But when I need to call in a favor of my own, you have to promise to do it. No matter what,” he drawled.

To her credit, she really looked like she was thinking it through, trying to think of another way to push this girl off the list. But finally, she sighed. “Deal.”

He pushed off the wall, walking towards the door. “Alright, so I just have to seduce the bookworm? Easy.”

Claire shook her head, her eyes still alight with her anger. “No, if I’m going to agree to any favor you could possibly want, you’re going to have to go further. You need to make her fall in love with you.”

Azriel bristled a bit, leaning against the door now. “I know I’m an asshole, but that seems too far, don’t you think?”

“No. If she’s going to be distracted enough that her grades will slip, you need to make it seem real,” she said, and then smiled as if she had a wicked thought.

“What?” Azriel asked.

“And then you break her heart, right before exams,” she said excitedly, her eyes burning with enthusiasm now. “You tell her, in front of everyone, that it was all fake.”

He rubbed at his bicep, a nervous tic that Claire picked up on immediately. “Jesus, Claire. I don’t want to ruin this girl’s life.”

She arched her brow. “Why not? She’s ruining mine.”

Azriel rolled his eyes and Claire pounced, “Any favor, Az. Any time, you can tell me to do whatever you want,” she smirked. 

He groaned, pinching his nose. “Fine,” he ground out. “Where do I find her?”

Claire beamed. “Where else would a nerd be? The library, of course.”

---

You shifted in your seat, starting to feel sore after poring over your notes for hours. Maybe you should go for a walk. Maybe. But, you still had so much to do…

Groaning, you crossed your arms on the table, laying your head down on top of them. Just a minute, you just needed a tiny break --

“Studying always makes me feel like that, too,” said a low, male voice. 

You lifted your head, bewildered, and nearly choked on your own spit. The guy who was for some reason deigning to talk to you was… well, what other way was there to say it? He was drop-dead gorgeous. 

His face was stoic as he sauntered up to your table, his jet black hair was just a tad unruly, his hazel eyes burning into yours. But it was his body that made the breath completely escape your lungs. He was dressed in all black, his t-shirt hugging his chest and his biceps, showing off his every muscle, and there were swirling black tattoos peeking out from under his sleeves. 

All you could do was stare as he took the seat across from you, leaning back with his arms crossed like the two of you did this every day.

“What class is that for?” he asked, nodding to the textbook open in front of you, the dozens of papers scattered around you.

“Organic Chemistry,” you said, trying to sound like you were normal and not completely surprised by this handsome stranger finding you in your favorite quiet corner of the library.

He let out a low whistle, “Damn, you are smart.”

“What, did someone tell you I was?” you asked. 

“No, I just figured when I saw all the --” he gestured to your cluttered workspace, “homework stuff.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Homework stuff?”

His mouth turned up the slightest bit, holding up his hands like he was surrendering. “You caught me. I’m not much of an academic.”

“Then what are you doing here?” you asked curiously.

“Now, that is an excellent question,” he said, and really did seem like he was questioning it. “Girls? Parties? Though I could get girls anywhere and I don't particularly enjoy parties.”

You nodded. “Ah,” you said. “Got it.”

He braced his arms on the table, leaning forward. “I take it you’re not into that kinda thing?”

A dry laugh escaped from your throat, “Definitely not. I’m really only here for the--” you mimicked his gesture from earlier, “homework stuff.”

He barked out a laugh, his stoic face completely transforming for the briefest of moments. You couldn’t help but stare. “You’re telling me all you do is study? A beautiful girl like you? Please tell me you’ve been to at least one party,” he said, looking at you incredulously. 

You blushed. “No, I haven’t been to any.”

You braced yourself for impact, for the teasing or insults to come, but he just smiled softly. “You wanna go to one with me tonight?”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. “You don’t even know my name.”

The side of his mouth quirked up into a smile, his eyes dancing with amusement. “What's your name?”

Rolling your eyes, you told him.

“Nice to meet you. I'm Azriel.” He raised his eyebrows, “So? Party?”

“I thought you just said you don't like parties!”

“True, but I do love the thought of corrupting a sweet, innocent bookworm,” he smirked.

“No, thanks.” You couldn't imagine yourself going to a house party, especially not with a stranger.

Azriel's cool-guy demeanor seemed to drop the slightest bit. “Why not?”

You looked at him pointedly. “I don't know you. And I have no interest in being corrupted. Why do you want me to come to this party so badly anyway?”

He shrugged casually. “I like you.”

“You don't know me!”

“See, that, right there,” he snapped his fingers and pointed at you. “You're funny. Smart, beautiful. What's not to like?”

You forced yourself to hold his gaze, even as a blush rose to your cheeks. “I'm not going to a party with someone I don't know. They make true crime documentaries about that sort of thing.”

He seemed to contemplate that for a moment. “Okay, you make a fair point. What do you want to do then?”

“What do you mean?”

“You can pick our first date, since you didn't like my idea.”

“What date?” You blanched.

He arched an eyebrow. “Our first date? Weren't you listening?”

You studied him for a moment. For the life of you, you could not figure out what this guy's angle was. 

As if reading your mind, he said softly, “Look, I just saw you and thought you were really pretty, and that it looked like you could use a break from studying. That's it,” he held his hands up again. “I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. If you want me to go, I'll go.”

For a beat longer, you watched him, his body language, his ridiculously pretty face. What was the harm, really? You sighed, tore off a scrap of paper from your notebook, scribbled out your number, then handed it to him. “I need to study. If you text me later, I'll let you know where we're going on the first date.” 

His face broke out into what might have been the first genuine smile you'd seen from him. He took the paper from you, his fingers brushing against yours.

“Can't wait.”

You were half expecting to never hear from Azriel again. But just a few hours later, as you were eating dinner in your apartment, your phone chimed with a text. 

Az: Done studying yet?

It was an effort to bite down your smile. 

You: Taking a break for dinner. 

It was less than a minute before he responded. 

Az: Dinner? Is that what our first date is going to be?

You didn’t try to hide your smile this time.

You: A little cliche, don’t you think?

Az: Oh, absolutely. So… what are we doing?

You: Meet at the tennis courts at 7 tomorrow?

Az: We’re playing tennis?

You: No, but I’m not giving you my address. And I’m not giving away the surprise.

Az: So smart. So mysterious. I’m swooning.

You: Shut up.

Az: See you tomorrow ;)

You tossed your phone to the side, forcing yourself to focus back on your schoolwork.

The following day you parked your car by the empty tennis courts on campus just before 7. It was early spring; the weather finally started to warm up enough to not be too chilly in the evening. Still, you rubbed your arms nervously. You were starting to regret this. You didn’t know this guy at all. What if it went horribly wrong?

Before you could contemplate bailing, a familiar figure rode up on a jet black motorcycle. Of course this guy had a motorcycle. You couldn't see his face underneath the helmet, but you would already recognize those tattooed arms anywhere. 

He parked his bike, smoothly sliding off it and taking his helmet off before sauntering over to you. “Hey, beautiful.” 

You rolled your eyes, sure that he had said that to a million girls on a million dates before.

“What? Don’t do that,” he said softly, his smile softening and his gaze raking down your body. “You are beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly, giving in. 

“So,” he said, towering over you. “What’s the plan?”

You smiled. “How’s your mini golf game?”

He raised an eyebrow, looking a little skeptical. “Mini golf? That’s what you’re choosing?”

“Yes, it is. Do you have something to say about that?” you teased. 

His eyes sparked at the tone in your voice. “Nope. Nothing at all.” He nodded to his motorcycle. “You wanna hop on the bike?”

You looked pointedly at him and he laughed. “Didn’t think so,” he gestured to your car. “Lead the way.”

Your nerves started to dim as the two of you fell into a rhythm going through the course. The two of you were just talking and laughing like it was normal. It was… fun, actually.

“Shit,” Azriel muttered as he overshot the hole. Again.

You laughed and his eyes flicked over to you, lingering a bit. “You’re good at this, bookworm,” he said as he took another shot, sinking it into the hole this time. You watched, leaning against your putter, having finished that hole two shots ago. 

Shrugging, you said, “I used to go with my family a lot.”

He placed his hand on the small of your back as you walked to the next hole. You cleared your throat, focusing on your steps, on your breathing, on anything but how it felt to have him touch you so casually. “What about you?”

“What about me?” he asked as you dropped your ball onto the green. 

You took your shot before you answered. The ball landed just shy of the hole. “What’s your family like?”

“My family…” he trailed off, clearing his throat, setting up his shot. He paused to look at you for a moment before he swung. “It’s complicated.”

He hit the ball and it stopped right next to yours. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” you said, as the two of you walked further down the hole.

“No, you didn’t. It’s just… I don’t really talk about them with anybody.”

You nodded, not sure where to go from here.

Azriel smiled reassuringly, nudging you lightly with his shoulder. “Stop worrying.”

“I’m not worrying,” you claimed, your voice an octave too high. 

“You are. I can tell.”

You bit your lip to hide your smile as you sunk your ball into the hole.

“I think I’m going to need some pointers from you on the next hole,” he grumbled. 

“I guess I could help you out,” you laughed. 

So, when you got to the next hole, the last hole, he stepped so close that your bodies were nearly touching. You tried to control your breathing. 

“You’re gonna help me out?” he murmured, his eyes flashing down to your lips for a moment. 

“Okay,” you breathed. 

He stepped behind you, his body pressed against your back, wrapping his arms around you, his hands covering yours on the club. 

“How is this going to help you, exactly?” you asked, your voice slightly unsteady. 

His lips brushed your ear as he said, “Oh, trust me, it’s helping.”

You couldn’t say anything. Could hardly breathe.

“What do you think I’m doing wrong?” He murmured. 

You swallowed. “You’re hitting it too hard. Not exactly rocket science.”

“Mmm. That makes sense. I do tend to go… hard.”

That finally had you coming to your senses. You stepped out of his grasp, turning back to glare at him when you were a safe distance away. 

The side of his mouth turned up into a smile. “Sorry. I couldn't help myself.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at him again. “Just take your shot.”

He smirked at you for a moment, before he swung, and the ball went right into the hole. 

He turned to you, his eyes wide. You laughed and he hugged you, picking you up and spinning you around. 

You let out an involuntary squeal of surprise, and he laughed, gazing into your eyes as he set you back on the ground. “Thanks for the help.”

“I think you’ve been playing me this whole time,” you joked. 

His smile fell a little, his eyes sobering. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. When he just stared at you, his expression unreadable, you added, “Azriel, I was joking.”

He blinked and then his natural, stoic expression was back as he took a step closer to you. “Right. I think you’re just a good teacher.”

You just looked at him, trying to decipher the changes in his mood, who he really was underneath the gruff exterior.

He smiled faintly, stepping even closer. “What are you thinking about?”

You had to crane your neck to look him in the eye now. “I'm trying to figure out what you're thinking about.”

Azriel's smile turned into a smirk. “I'm thinking… that I really want to kiss you. But I don't want to scare you away.”

Heat flooded your face and his smile turned softer as he cupped your cheek gently with a rough hand. “Would it scare you away?” He murmured.

“I -- don't know,” you said honestly.

His hazel eyes dipped to your lips and stayed there. “I think I'm gonna have to take the risk,” he said, his voice low, husky.

“I think so, too,” you breathed.

His free hand slinked around your waist, gently pulling your body into his. Your heart thundered in your chest as he leaned down, slowly bringing his lips to yours. He seemed to give you a moment to process, and you felt him smile against your mouth when you started to kiss him back, your fingers curling around his bicep, his shoulder.

You were breathless by the time he pulled away, and as the two of you drove back to the tennis courts, you couldn't help but hope that it would happen again by the end of the night.

When you parked your car near his motorcycle in the abandoned lot, he lingered, his gaze holding yours, dropping to your mouth again.

He shot you a crooked smile. “Aren't you gonna walk me to my bike?”

Rolling your eyes playfully, you got out of the car, walking over to the motorcycle and settling against the fence near it, crossing your arms over your chest. “Happy now?” You asked.

Slowly, he sauntered over to you, his eyes twinkling under the stars. He raised his arm, twining his fingers in the chain link fence above your head, leaning his body towards you, but not quite touching. He gazed down at you, still sporting that half smile. “Very happy,” he murmured.

Your breath hitched and when his smile widened, you knew he heard it. 

He held your gaze as he leaned down, bringing his mouth to yours again. You let yourself fall deeper into the kiss this time, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into you. 

When he finally pulled away, he was grinning. “Want to go for a ride before you head home?” He said, nodding to his motorcycle.

You had stepped far enough out of your comfort zone for today. “Maybe next time.”

He raised his eyebrows in amusement. “So you're giving me a next time?”

Damn. You blushed. “I said maybe.”

“Uh huh, sure,” he said, leaning in again so his lips were barely an inch from yours. “You can't wait to see me again,” he whispered.

You shoved him away lightly and he chuckled, backing up towards his bike, but keeping his eyes on you. “Until next time, then. Have a good night, bookworm.” He winked before putting his helmet on and speeding away.

A few weeks, a few dates, and several kisses later, you couldn't deny that Azriel was on your mind quite a bit.

You had never thought that someone like him would be interested in someone like you, but he seemed to prove time and time again that he did indeed like you. He texted you flirty little things every day, making you blush in class. He asked about your day, and seemed to genuinely be listening, and he would do pretty much anything you wanted on your dates. Last week, the two of you had gone to a local bookstore and he had watched you browse, a small smile on his face. He ended up picking out a book he wanted you to read and you did the same for him. He had been sending you daily updates on his progress through the book. Slowly, you were starting to let your walls down, despite yourself.

So, when he asked you to finally go to a party with him, to meet his friends, you accepted. You still felt cautious: partying had never been something that you were remotely interested in, but you trusted him.

---

Azriel knew he had to tread this next part carefully. Things had been going well with you. He let you take control of your time together so you would be comfortable, and honestly, he was actually having a really good time getting to know you and seeing where you would take him next.

And when you kissed him… God. It was always a struggle to keep his hands on your waist, to stay PG. He wished he could explore things further with you in that regard, but he wouldn't let himself go there. Not when your broken heart was the finish line.

He rarely let himself think about it -- the deal that he had made with Claire. Being with you felt so natural that he usually forgot he was supposed to be acting. That he was supposed to be leading you to Claire’s revenge.

He had convinced you to come to a party, upon Claire's request so she could see the progress he had made with you. You had said yes, he assumed because you trusted him enough now. The thought made his stomach roll. He was really starting to hate himself for getting mixed up in this.

Azriel acted differently around you than he did around the rest of the general population. At a young age he had learned to keep quiet, to not show a single emotion on his pretty face, to be tough, or be punished. 

With you… he couldn't help but smile. Couldn't stop the laughs that he usually stomped down for the rest of the world.

So, having his two worlds collide at this party…he didn't know exactly how to navigate it. Deep down, it made his heart swell that you trusted him enough to help you navigate something so far out of your comfort zone. But if his friends saw the way he acted around you, he would never hear the end of it.

This would be a mess.

If Azriel wasn't leaning against his motorcycle when you exited your apartment building, he may have fallen over. You were wearing skintight jeans and a black tank top that showed more cleavage than he ever imagined he'd see from you. His fingers flexed on his biceps. He wanted to pull you back into your apartment and spend an hour peeling those clothes away inch by inch.

He blinked the lust away, trying to maintain his stoic expression, but failed, as he always did with you. He smiled at you and you smiled back. 

He could tell by the way you carried yourself as you neared him that you were nervous. “Hey, beautiful,” he drawled his usual greeting as you wrapped your arms around his waist in your usual greeting.

“Hi,” you said, a little sheepishly. His eyes must have lingered on your curves a little too long because your eyes widened a bit, and you bit your lip nervously as you pulled away from him. He nearly groaned. “Is it too much? Do I look stupid?”

Azriel placed his hands on your shoulders gently, dipping his head to look you in the eyes. “You look amazing. Seriously.”

You blushed and murmured, “Thank you.”

He had to turn away, to grab your helmet, so you wouldn't see how much you affected him. He fucking loved it when he made you blush like that. 

Azriel turned back to you, holding up the helmet, his eyebrows raising with amusement. “You ready to join the dark side, bookworm?”

You sighed, shifting on your feet. 

“It'll be okay,” he said softly. “I got you.”

You nodded, seeming to resolve yourself, and reached for the helmet with slightly shaking hands.

He helped you make sure it was on correctly, his fingers brushing your chin, your neck. He bit back a smile as you shivered.

Azriel held your hand as you got settled on the back of the bike, showing you where to put your feet, and how to shift your weight with him.

When you seemed at least somewhat comfortable, he slid his helmet on, smoothly setting onto the motorcycle. You wrapped your arms around his middle, pressing your chest into his back. You were already holding him like your life depended on it, and he beamed freely underneath the helmet.

“Hold on tight,” he shot back at you, before he revved the engine, taking off much more gently than he normally would.

He tried not to think about the feel of you pressed into him, how tightly you were holding on. It didn't work. He wanted to drive you everywhere.

He couldn't resist reaching back to briefly squeeze your thigh at a red light. “How are you doing?”

“Good,” you said. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he heard a smile in your voice.

Too soon in Azriel's opinion, they had made it to the party. He parked, offering you his hand to help you get down.

When he pulled the helmet off your head, he was pleased to see that you were indeed smiling.

“Have fun?” He smirked.

“I did, actually,” you said, sounding a little breathless. 

“Whenever you need a ride, you just let me know,” he winked.

You laughed, glancing behind him at the house. 

He took your hand in his, squeezing reassuringly. You seemed to relax a bit. “We can leave whenever you want, okay?”

Taking a deep breath, you nodded and smiled nervously up at him.

You were doing this for him, he realized. Because he had asked you to. His heart constricted, guilt churning in his gut again as he led you inside, your hand squeezing his tightly. 

His shoulders tightened as he led you through the crowd, making sure you were tucked in close to him. 

“You want a drink?” he asked, as you made your way to the kitchen.

“Sure,” you said.

He rifled through what was on the sticky counter, trying to find something not disgusting for you to drink, making sure you stayed close to him. 

Finally handing you a cup, he put your hand on the small of your back, guiding you to a corner of the living room that wasn’t yet very crowded. He took a seat on the couch and you settled in next to him, tucked closely into his side. 

You smiled, leaning your shoulder into his. “Is this really it?” You asked skeptically. “You just sit here and drink around a bunch of drunk idiots?”

He laughed before he could stop himself. “I mean, yeah, that’s pretty much it,” he said, dipping his head to say in your ear. “Or we could dance. Or make out,” he smiled against your ear. 

You blushed and he laughed again, kissing your temple. 

Azriel wrapped an arm around your shoulders as Cassian and Rhys showed up, grinning at you, their eyebrows raised. Azriel fought the urge to roll his eyes. They had seen him laughing with you, kissing you, he knew. He had nearly forgotten where he was, why he was here with you. He loved them, but he wasn’t sure what they would say to you about him. They didn’t know about his arrangement with Claire, and he had been keeping details about his relationship with you as vague as possible.

“So you’re the one Az has been spending all his time with,” Cassian grinned. 

You smiled sheepishly, leaning further into Azriel. “I guess.”

Azriel nodded to his friends. “This is Cassian and Rhysand. They’ve been my best friends since we were kids.”

He could tell you were intrigued by that. He still hadn’t told you anything about his childhood. 

Before you could ask any questions, Claire showed up next to Azriel’s friends, her expression the very picture of friendship. It unsettled him so much that he held you closer to him, so you were practically on his lap. 

“Hi Claire,” you smiled, and his heart sank. You really had no idea how Claire felt about you. 

Claire smiled back. “Hey. I never expected to see you here.”

“I’m trying new things,” you said, smiling lightly at Azriel.

He couldn’t take it, having you so close to Claire, seeing that trust you had in him when you looked at him. He cleared his throat, standing up and offering you his hand. You took it, smiling politely at Claire and his friends as he led you through the house, out to the backyard. 

“Is everything okay?” You asked, looking up at him curiously as he leaned his back against the side of the house.

“Yeah,” he said, unable to stop the smile that rose to his face as you gazed at him with your big doe eyes. He tugged you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I just wanted you to myself for a minute.”

“Oh yeah?” you flushed, and before he could stop himself, he kissed your cheeks, feeling the heat against his lips before his lips met yours in a slow, sensual kiss.

He was still kissing you when he heard Cassian snickering close by. “Oh shit, he’s whipped.”

Azriel rolled his eyes as he pulled away from you, but kept his hold on your waist. “How am I whipped?”

Cassian’s eyes gleamed with mischief and Azriel’s heart started to pound. “Sneaking out here on your own. You’re usually content to stay on the couch to make out with your girl of the week.”

Your body tensed in his arms and Azriel groaned internally, glaring at Cassian, who smirked. “Oh, she didn’t know? My bad, Az.”

Azriel’s expression was enough to send Cassian back inside. 

Your brow furrowed as you stepped back, out of his reach. “Girl of the week?”

He winced. “He’s being dramatic.”

You raised your eyebrows, glaring at him, crossing your arms over your chest. 

It was kind of adorable, but Azriel reigned in that comment. He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, look. I told you when we met that I go to parties and meet girls there. But things are different now,” he said, taking a step closer to you. And it was true. Things were different. You had been the one haunting his thoughts since that first date. He had barely looked at anyone else since.

After a moment, you sighed, and he knew you wouldn’t resist when he wrapped his arms back around you. 

“Cassian’s an idiot,” he murmured, his focus back on your lips that he was dying to kiss again.

“So I’m not the girl of the week?” you said quietly, your eyes on his lips now. 

He smiled. “We’ve been seeing each other for several weeks, haven’t we?”

You nodded, biting your lip, before you stood up on your tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his lips. Azriel was surprised by his own relief. “Are we going back inside?” you asked. 

“Not if you don’t want to,” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist again. 

Pursing your lips in thought, you said, “Mmm. Let’s go back in.”

“Yeah?” he said, surprised.

You smiled up at him, resting your chin on his chest. His heart melted. “I’m trying to be brave.”

He kissed your forehead, smiling faintly. “I’m proud of you, bookworm.”

You beamed, your whole face lighting up. 

Azriel led you inside, his hand on the small of your back, trying to manage the swell of emotions in his chest. He didn’t have the time to process them right now. 

The two of you mingled throughout the party for a few hours, and you even went so far as to dance with him for a bit, your body pressed against his, your hips swaying to the beat of the pounding music. He could hardly believe it, the way you let loose with him.

He stopped in the bathroom before the two of you left. He wasn’t gone for more than a few minutes, but when he returned, he spotted you near the kitchen, backing away from a guy who was clearly very drunk and very horny. Azriel saw red. 

Before he could take a second to think, Azriel was upon the bastard, punching him in the jaw. 

He heard you yelp. The asshole staggered back, swearing, his hand cradling his jaw. Azriel barely spared him a glance, his hands gently holding either side of your face, his gaze raking your body, searching for any sign that he had touched you. 

Your eyes were wide, your breathing labored, but you seemed physically fine. “Are you okay?” he asked. 

You nodded, your eyes still frantic. 

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders as he led you outside. Claire caught his eye on the way out, hers shining with delight. He scowled at her. 

When you made it outside, he hugged you to his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” 

“I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

You snorted. “You were gone for a few minutes. It’s not your fault that men are gross.”

“Are you okay, really?” He asked, pulling back to look you in the eye.

“I’m okay,” you said quietly. 

He held you close to him, gazing at you for another moment before you smiled faintly. “You really didn’t need to punch him, you know.”

He winced slightly, remembering the yelp you let out when he threw that punch. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you said, rising on your tiptoes to kiss him. 

Azriel held you until his heart rate slowed down, until his body was convinced that you were okay.

Later, after he had dropped you off at your apartment, Azriel stayed awake, tossing and turning, so many images from that night racing through his mind.

The way his heart constricted every time you smiled at him, the horror he felt at seeing Claire play nice, the terror and rage that flowed through his entire body when he saw that creep bothering you…

Azriel knew then, that he had real feelings for you. Shit.

---

“C’mon, baby, you’ve been studying for ages already,” Azriel murmured, standing behind you as you sat at your desk in your apartment, his arms draped around your chest, his lips trailing down your neck.

Your toes curled, heat running right through you. You wanted to give in. You really did. But…

You sighed. “I’m sorry, Az. I have this big exam on Tuesday. And finals are only a few weeks away.”

For some reason, that comment made his entire body stiffen. “Oh, yeah. Finals.”

You snorted. “Don’t tell me you forgot about finals.”

“No, I just… they’re soon.” His voice wavered a bit as he stood up fully. You twisted in your seat to look up at him. His brow was furrowed, his eyes swimming with anxiety. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, reaching up and cupping his cheek with your hand. “Do you need me to help you study?” He had never seemed to care about his grades before.

He leaned into your touch for a moment, shooting you a forced smile. “No, it’s okay. I’ll be fine. I should go, and let you study.” He stooped down to press a quick kiss to your lips. “I won’t distract you anymore today.” 

Before you could even respond, he was out the door. 

You turned back to your notes, but couldn’t digest any of the information. That was… weird.

Azriel and you had been dating for months now. Though neither of you had ever put a label on it, you both knew you were exclusive. 

In the privacy of your own mind, you secretly loved that he acted so differently around you than he did out and about on campus. You felt like you got a different version of him that was saved especially for you. It made your heart swell, all the little things he did for you each day. 

You were also willing to admit, to yourself only, that you were absolutely in love with him. You had known for weeks now, and had been debating whether or not you should tell him. 

He had been the one that made you step out of your comfort zone, to try new things, to be brave. 

So, soon. You would tell him soon.

--- 

Azriel had to get out of the deal. Now.

He remembered the exact moment that he realized he was in love with you. It was a random afternoon, the two of you were watching TV at his apartment. He was laying on the couch, you were laying on top of him, your legs intertwined with his, your head on his chest. He was absentmindedly running his fingers through your hair while you giggled about something that happened on the show. 

And he had the thought. I want my whole life to look like this. 

And he knew. He loved you.

This had scared him, obviously, on multiple levels. He had never loved anyone before, never knew what that looked like. Yet somehow, he knew without a doubt that it was true. 

And then, of course, there was the deal he had made with the devil. 

He had known early on that he would have to get out of the deal. He had just been putting it off, hoping that Claire’s insanity would die down throughout the semester. 

But now his time was up. 

He prayed to whoever might be listening that Claire would listen to reason. That she would call it off. He couldn’t bear the thought of hurting you. He wouldn’t do it. 

Claire smirked as she opened the door. “I’ve been wondering when you would show up. It’s been a long time, Az,” she purred. 

Azriel stalked into her apartment, barely sparing her a glance. “The deal’s off, Claire.”

She cocked her head to the side, amused. “Oh? Why is that?”

“Because it’s insane,” he growled. “You were insane for coming up with it, and I was insane for agreeing to it. I’m done.”

Slowly, her lips curled up into a lethal smile. “You fell for her.”

Azriel blinked. 

Claire cackled. “Oh, this is rich. You actually fell for the bookworm? I never thought I’d see the day. No wonder you haven’t been crawling into my bed.”

He scowled. “The deal’s off,” he repeated in the tone he used to scare people away.

She really looked at him then, her eyes bearing into his. After a moment, she finally said, “Okay.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Okay? Just like that?”

Claire shrugged. “You were right. It was an insane plan. And it didn’t even work,” she said bitterly. “You suck at your job. She’ll still be on the top of the Dean’s list, even after all your lovey-dovey shit.”

A swell of pride ran through him at the thought of your name at the top of that list.

“Alright,” he said, his brow furrowed, trying to figure out if there was some kind of angle here. But, there didn’t seem to be one. 

He left quickly, his heart and mind feeling lighter. The guilt of how the two of you started would always be there, he knew. But now when he looked into the future, it wasn’t a hazy blur of nothingness that he saw. It was you.

---

The week before finals, there were parties everywhere. So you heard. 

You had gone to a few more with Az over the past few months. It still wasn’t exactly your thing, but you didn’t mind going, especially with Azriel being so attentive to you every time you did. 

Azriel didn’t seem particularly interested in going to this one, but his friends had been complaining that they never saw him anymore, so he agreed to go. And you had agreed to go with him, if only to take a break from your near constant studying these days.

You followed him through the crowd, his hand clasping yours, as always. Drinks in hand, you made your way to the outskirts of a group of people who were dancing and you joined them, Azriel pulling you in close to him, moving against you.

A laugh burst from you, and Azriel grinned, leaning down to kiss you. 

You were so happy, you thought. So happy in that moment with him. You knew people watched you, as they usually did when Azriel was like this with you. You didn’t care.

When he pulled back from the kiss, he gazed down at you, his eyes swimming with affection. 

“I love you,” you said before you could stop it.

His eyes sobered, and he pulled you in even closer, so your bodies were flush together. He leaned his forehead against yours, and in a crowd of people, Azriel said, a soft smile on his face, “I love you, too.”

Your heart leaped and you grinned, threading your fingers in his hair and bringing his lips to yours. 

Suddenly, the music stopped, and from the TV came a voice. Azriel’s voice. 

Everyone turned to the sound, curiously, watching. The video was jumpy, filming the floor, like it was filmed from someone’s pocket. 

Azriel tensed, his arms still around you. “Fuck,” he said. “We need to go.”

Utterly confused, you didn’t argue as he pulled you through the crowd. But you stopped dead in your tracks when you heard video Azriel say, “Sweetheart, you know I can fuck you anytime I want, right? That is not going to persuade me to help you.”

Your blood ran cold, shock jolting from your heart down to your toes. Azriel was tugging on your arm, but you didn’t budge as you heard Claire’s voice next. 

Claire. He had been talking to Claire. What did he mean, that he could fuck her whenever he wanted? You hadn’t even known that they knew each other. When was this filmed?

“Baby, please, I’ll explain everything, but we need to go,” Azriel was saying, sounding frantic. 

You wrenched your arm from his grasp, weaving through the still crowd, moving toward the TV. You heard him swear, calling your name behind you, but you kept moving.

They were saying something about a deal, about him owing her a favor. You couldn’t make sense of it, not until you heard video Azriel say, “Alright, so I just have to seduce the bookworm? Easy.”

Video Claire responded, “No, if I’m going to agree to any favor you could possibly want, you’re going to have to go further. You need to make her fall in love with you.”

It was then that you noticed Claire, next to the TV, her eyes locked on you, smirking. 

You couldn’t breathe, your legs were going to give out -- 

It was all fake. All of it. 

Azriel caught up to you then, picking you up, slinging you over his shoulder. You didn’t protest, the shock setting in. You had to get out of there, even if it was him that carried you out. 

When he made it outside, you pounded on his back with your fists. “Put me down, you asshole!”

“Sorry,” Azriel said, wincing as he gently set you on your feet. “You looked like you were going to pass out.”

“Like you even care,” you spat, storming away from him. 

“Of course I care. Please, just give me a minute to explain,” he pleaded, following you. 

“Explain what?” You stopped abruptly, spinning around to face him. “That you played me for a fool? Made me fall in love with you as a sick joke? Well, congratulations, it worked,” you said, pouring every ounce of venom that you could muster into your voice. You turned back around and continued walking as tears started pricking your eyes. You refused to let him see you cry.

“It may have started out that way, but it’s not like that anymore. From the first date, I had feelings for you. I love you. You have to believe that,” he said, right on your heels. 

You knew he could catch up with you easily if he wanted to. He was hanging back, trying to give you your space. That pissed you off even more. “How could I possibly believe that?” 

“Because you feel it, I know you do,” he said, finally wrapping his fingers around your wrist.

You tugged your hand free, but stopped walking, needing to catch your breath. You faced him. “What was the point?” You asked quietly. “Why make the deal?”

It didn’t matter. But you had to know.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Claire and I used to date. When you transferred, you pushed her off the top spot of the Dean’s list. She hated you for it. She said she would give me any favor I wanted if I made you fall for me… to distract you from school.”

You were so surprised that the tears you had been holding in started to fall. You angrily swatted them away. 

Azriel continued, “I said no at first, but she was persistent, and…” he took a deep breath, darting his eyes away from you for a moment. They were shining with unshed tears. “I have no excuse. I agreed to it. I’m an asshole. But you made me want to be different.”

“Was any of it true?” You heard yourself saying, your voice breaking. 

He lifted his hand, like he was about to reach for yours, then let it drop, thinking better of it. “It was all true. From our first date, you were breaking down my walls, making me smile, making me laugh.” He smiled sadly. “I fell for you. I love you,” he said, and now a lone tear did slide down his cheek. “I called it off with Claire ages ago. I told her I was out, and she agreed. I… I didn’t know she filmed it.”

You wanted to believe him, that he really did love you. But… “Even if you do love me, that doesn’t change what you did,” you said in a small voice. 

Azriel sniffed, wiping the tears off his face. “I know. I am so, so sorry.”

Shaking your head, backing away from him, you choked out, “I don’t -- I can’t. I can’t do this right now.”

He took a step toward you, his eyes pleading. “Please. Please don’t go.”

Turning your back to him, you walked away, barely registering the pavement beneath your feet, the direction you were going. 

Azriel called your name, but you kept walking.

You knew he had followed you home, not letting you walk alone at night. You watched his form retreat after you locked yourself inside your apartment with trembling hands. 

You went to bed, not even bothering to change. Laying on your back, watching your ceiling fan spin around and around, you tried to identify all that you were feeling: shame, humiliation, sorrow. Fury. 

Replaying all that had happened between you, all the times he was probably laughing at you with his friends behind your back. You felt nauseous. 

How could he do this? How could he have played you for so long?

What the hell were you supposed to do now?

You woke up to several missed calls and texts from Azriel, all sent hours apart. It seemed that he didn’t get any sleep at all.

I am so sorry. I’m the worst person in the world. I know that. 

I know what you’re thinking right now. I know that you’re going over it all in your head. But, it was real, baby. It was all real. I swear it was. I love you so much.

I’m hoping you’re getting some sleep. Can I see you today?

Groaning, you tossed your phone to the side, and took a long shower. By the time you got out, someone was knocking on your door. 

You quickly dressed in some old pajamas and called through the door, “Go away, Az.”

“Well, at least you’re alive,” you heard him say. “Can I please come in? Two minutes?”

You threw the door open, furious. “No, you cannot come in. You humiliated me. You used me. You had your fun. What else could you possibly want?”

Azriel was standing on the threshold, his hands in his pockets nervously, his facial expression looked like you had just slapped him. “I want to apologize! I want to make things better, that’s what I want.”

Biting your lip to keep from crying, you said quietly, “Go away.” 

His face fell. “I love you.”

Shaking your head, you said, “You don’t.”

He took a step forward, wedging his foot on the door jam so you couldn’t close it on him. “I do,” he said, his eyes pleading, baring into yours. “You know that I do. You know I’ve never let anybody else see the real me. Nobody but you.”

Tears spilled onto your cheeks then, and he wiped them away gently. Despite everything, you couldn’t back away. “It doesn’t matter,” you croaked. “You only went out with me so you could help her ruin my life.”

Azriel opened his mouth, as if to reply, but then shut it. 

You laughed humorlessly. “See? Even you don’t have a comeback.”

His eyes softened, his rough fingers still absentmindedly stroking your cheeks. “Please,” he said again. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not enough,” you whispered, your heart breaking all over again as you looked up at him, at the pain in his eyes.

“How do I fix it?” He whispered back, tears sliding freely down his cheeks now.

“I don’t know,” you said, stepping back out of his grasp. “Please, Az. I just -- I need to be alone right now.”

He nodded, drawing his arm across his face to wipe the tears away. “Okay. Okay, I’ll umm -- I’ll see you later?”

You didn’t know how to answer that, didn’t know if you would see him again at all. He took a step back, into the hallway. 

Without another word, you shut the door.

Especially knowing where that awful bet had originated, you refused to let Azriel and Claire get in your head for finals. You buckled down, spending entire days at the library studying, writing papers, finishing projects. 

It was helpful, actually. You didn’t allow yourself to think about him, about all the memories you had that had become so tainted and confusing. 

By the end of the semester, you had maintained all your A’s, passing every final with flying colors. And thus, secured the very top spot of the Dean’s list.

Azriel had been texting and calling every day. You left them all unanswered. 

You hadn’t yet had time to think, to process through the hurt. 

A new text chimed as you were packing up your car to head home for the summer. 

Saw the list. Nicely done, bookworm. I know it doesn’t matter, but I really am proud of you. Looks like all that hard work paid off ❤️

Despite everything, there was a swell of emotion in your chest at his words. God, why did everything have to be so awful?

Later, you were hefting your last box into your trunk when you heard the distinct sound of a motorcycle slowing down behind you. Your heart raced. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to see him again or not.

Slowly, you turned around to see Azriel sliding off the bike, his helmet tucked under his arm. “Hey, beautiful,” he said, somewhat tentatively.

“Hi,” you said softly. 

He nodded to your car, his expression grave. “You’re leaving?”

“Back home for the summer,” you said, unable to take your eyes off him. He looked tired. And sad. 

A moment passed silently, the two of you just looking at each other, pain hanging in the air between you.

“I miss you,” he said quietly. 

You sighed. Willed yourself to be brave. “I miss you, too,” you admitted. 

Something like hope gleamed in his eyes. “I love you,” he murmured. 

“I --” you started, and couldn’t bear it. “I need time.”

He looked crestfallen, like you had just punched him in the gut, but he nodded. “The summer?”

You swallowed. “Okay,” you said. “Okay. I get the summer, and I’ll find you in the fall. We’ll talk then.”

“Thank you,” he said, quietly. “Thank you for… for that. For talking to me now,” he winced. “I know I don’t deserve it.”

“No, you don’t,” you said, but there was no malice in it. You were too tired. “I get the summer, Az. Don’t contact me until school starts.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but agreed. “Okay. I’ll see you in September,” he said, backing up towards his bike. “Have a good summer, bookworm,” he added with the slightest of smiles, before he slid on his helmet and drove away.

---

You spent most of the summer moping around, reading books, and trying to sort through everything that happened, all the feelings you had. 

For three months, you sifted through every moment that Azriel and you had shared together, picking them apart, deciphering every movement. 

It may have been slightly unhealthy.

You believed that what you and Azriel had was real. You believed that he did love you. And you couldn’t deny that you loved him. That maybe you always would. 

Was it worth it to deny yourself the person who had made you so happy? Who had taught you new things, who had helped you out of your comfort zone?

As September grew closer, you still weren’t sure. 

 ---

Azriel got more and more anxious as the summer came to a close. It had been torture to not contact you at all, but he knew he was in no position to be asking you for anything, so he did as you asked. 

The hurt on your face those months ago was still a clear image in his mind that haunted his nightmares. He would never forgive himself for hurting you. 

Yet, he couldn’t stop imagining what would happen when he saw you again. Would you give him another chance? You would have to be a saint to even contemplate that. But then again, you were the best person he had ever known. If anyone would be able to forgive, it would be you.

Scowling, he stomped that shred of hope down. He couldn’t go into this having any expectations. 

Soon, he would know.

---

It was bittersweet coming back to school. Academia was where you thrived. You felt right at home in the library, stacks of papers all around you. 

And you used to feel at home with Azriel. 

You sighed at the thought. The first day of classes was tomorrow. You had told Azriel not to contact you until school started back up again, and knowing him, he would take that seriously. 

Deep down, you knew what you wanted to do. It terrified you, though. 

Sure enough, the next morning, you had a text from him:

Hey, bookworm. Hope your first day of classes goes well. 

The slightest smile spread across your lips. You knew he was probably dying to ask when he could see you, but was trying to keep it light. Leave the ball in your court.

For the first time since everything, you texted him back.

Thanks, Az. Yours, too. 

He opened it immediately. After a moment, you willed yourself to send another:

Wanna meet up at the tennis courts tonight? 

His reply came at lightning speed:

7?

Reigning in your smile, you replied:

7.

You couldn’t remember ever being this nervous as you walked to the tennis courts. There were a few people playing, so you sat underneath a tree nearby, willing your legs to stop shaking. 

Right on time, a familiar motorcycle turned into the parking lot. He spotted you immediately, striding over to you with unsure steps. 

“Hey, beautiful,” he said quietly. 

You looked up at him, your heart racing at the familiarity you felt. “Hi,” you said, and after the briefest hesitation, you patted the grass next to you. You weren’t sure you would be able to stand. 

Immediately, he plopped down across from you, his knees only inches from yours as he faced you. 

His eyes were locked on yours. “How was your summer?” he said, his voice cracking slightly. 

“Okay,” you said. “How was yours?”

“Okay,” he said quietly. 

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. “Okay, here’s the thing. I did a lot of thinking. A lot of thinking. And I do love you, Az.”

You paused, not sure how to word what you were feeling. 

“But?” Azriel said, his voice dripping with trepidation, his eyes guarded.

“But it’s going to take some time before I can trust you again.”

Azriel swallowed, his eyes never wavering from yours. 

He seemed like he was waiting for you to continue before he said anything, so you added, quietly, “I am willing to try, though. To give us another chance.”

The tautness in his body released, relief flooding his features. “Really?” he croaked, tears swimming in his eyes. 

You could only nod before he launched towards you, knocking you on your back, before he threaded his fingers through your hair, kissing you deeply. 

You laughed, as his other hand came up to cup your face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I swear I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you,” he said against your lips.

Wrapping your arms around him, you sighed into his kiss. “I know, Az. I know.”

“I love you,” he murmured, moving to kiss down your neck.

“I love you, too.”

“I missed you so much,” he groaned before kissing your lips again.

You giggled. “I missed you, too.”

He finally stopped kissing you, settling his elbows on either side of your head, leaning his forehead against yours. “Thank you. For giving me another chance.”

Smiling, you kissed him swiftly on the lips. “Don’t mess it up.”

“I won’t. I swear I won’t.”

The two of you spent the rest of the afternoon in each other’s arms, going over your respective summers. 

Eventually, Azriel propped himself on an elbow, gazing at you with all the love in the world.

“What?” you asked. 

He grinned. “You wanna go mini golfing, bookworm?”

You couldn’t help but return his smile. “Only if I can help you again.”

Azriel leaned down to gently kiss your forehead. “It’s a deal.”

A/N: wanna see more of these two?? Check out part 2!

@thalia-as-blog @saltedcoffeescotch

[cryptfile]

᪇ꫭ dreamseeker, [ qimir x jedi!reader ]

summary — it all started when you find out he’s alive.

warnings — pure angst, violence, blood, mentions of injuries and tons of tension, sfw.

side notes — 4k+ // English's not my first language so please be kind! went slightly away with this one so would catalogue it as an alternative universe. Heard liking without reblogging makes you fall in an awful curse that breaks my heart in the process so let that sink in, anyway everything it's appreciated!,,, thought about making an +18 second part? dunno,,, thks also for the 110 followers! love you guys sooooo much *heart avalanche*

The air's hot in the room when you woke up.

The sweat made the sheets stick to you body as you got out of bed for the third time that week, a terrible headache forming as you leave the dormitories in the middle of the dark. Coruscant suddenly feels unbearable. You've slept almost nothing through the course of the week, so you surely are in a bad mood when the cold wind of the night makes you shiver at the sudden change of temperature.

I'm searching for you. Even in my dreams.

The words are repeating in the back of you head, scratching a part of your brain while you keep on trying to remember who's voice you're dreaming so much lately.

It's all connected somehow, always is. You've learned to trust the force a while ago, learned that destiny's intertwined with an energy field that holds the galaxy together the hard way, so you know, deep down, that you have to trust your guts in this one, something that you know it concerns you but can't quite understand what really is in the first place.

Dreams. Dreams are a cruel thing that you tend to forgot sometimes, the reflection of the mind and soul projected like a high-class transmission in your head. Dreams talk, and they make you think about things you've let in the past, things you've certainly need to come back at some point.

That's why you can't sleep later, cause you know it means something. You know that dreaming the very same dream every single night for the past week means something more than just mere imagination playing around, far from an innocent scenario.

The temple is silent at night even when the city outside seems to be so wake in contrast of the inside, most of the lights out as you crossed the empty hallway hoping to avoid anyone, cause you know they'll ask questions you don't have an answer for.

In all truth, you don't have a clue why are you up so late, why this deep voice kept you awake when you should be deep in your sleep, dreaming about something more than superstitions. You don't have an answer to any superior, don't seem to have an answer for yourself either.

The Jedi trials ended long ago, yet, you don't think of yourself as someone as successful as Yord Fandar, your talent being far from what it should be expected. You never complain about anything and never would, they were the only family you ever knew and you refuse to lose everything you've been working so hard for just for questioning your bare existence.

"Can't sleep?" The male voice makes you stiff almost immediately, checking your surroundings to notice Master Sol approaching you from the left. The Jedi Master catches you by surprise, your hands already on the lightsaber that is hanging on your waist before you notice you're safe, even when you don't want to talk. "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

There are things that are worth hiding, but with Sol? Master Sol seems to see through it all, the worries and the dreams that you don't know if you should call nightmares, even when you try to lock them away for a minute. That's the main reason the man stares at you, cause you expel that smell of desperation, the tension in your muscles as you don't sleep in what seems are ages.

"What's troubling you?" He asks, your own eyes betraying you as they can't hold the weight of his gaze. "I know it's not my place to ask, but are you sleeping well lately?"

"Not really, but nothing to worry about" you say almost afraid that it's going to get you in trouble, the lack of sleep making you think the most stupid things as you stop in the middle of the hallway, making sure there's no one around more than Master Sol and yourself.

Not sleeping is a dangerous thing when reality tends to become a feverish version of itself.

I'm searching for you. Even in my dreams.

You're unsure of telling him what's really going on, unsure of trusting the people you've been close your whole life out of nowhere. A sudden sixth sense that commands you to keep the dreams to yourself, the sound of the male voice you've been listening like the most important secret you've ever hold account of.

It's almost embarrassing to admit you don't trust a Jedi above your rank, that your sixth sense all of sudden makes you keep the truth when it can be something important, when Master Sol has been like a friend to you after all those years of training.

Things have been weird since your Jedi Master was found recently murdered in Ueda, a heavy weight in your shoulders as it saddened you more than you even expected. Master Indara was like close family, and you find yourself missing her, mostly in moments like that when you wish you have someone to talk to

“I was going to the dormitories” Sol explains soon after, walking by your side. “I needed to ask you for a favor my dear friend, and I’m afraid I cannot wait much longer for you to heal.”

Heal. Are you ever allowed to heal? It’s been less than a couple of days since you found out about Indara, let alone the dreams that were tormenting you the rest of the week and suffer the loss, so it seems funny when Master Sol tells you he cannot wait much longer: No Jedi ever has time to heal.

“What can I do to help?”

It’s all it takes to leave Coruscant after, trapped in space in a small ship with not only Master Sol, but Yord and Sol’s younger padawan Jecki Lon, strange enough, also with Verosha Aniseya, a former Jedi you keep an eye on through time passed.

Suddenly you’re traveling through the galaxy and there’s no time for any more tears. Suddenly you need to toughen up and act like this Jedi Knight you’re supposed to be, even when you keep questioning yourself more than ever.

Maybe it’s because of Indara’s death. Her decease came so out of nowhere it shocked you to the very heart — It’s clear that you’re sensitive, dreaming stuff you’ve been getting tired of deciphering, pure nonsense, but then, the ship lands in Khofar and Sol it’s convincing you to stay inside even you’re perfectly capable of taking Verosha’s twin and his alleged master.

It’s your own mind that plays tricks on you, making you believe you’re not good enough to help. Truth is you felt your training as a padawan was not enough, you’re an easy target now that you’re hurt and it seems to make sense when all of sudden the group of Jedis leave you to fucking rot between white walls and buttons that sparkled.

It’s clear you’re affected. How can you not be affected by it? You’re overcome by sadness and anger both mixed together, and that feeling by itself is a dangerous one when in history, makes people question things too much to the point of no return.

So when you find yourself close to the light of the hologram that you turned on being so bored in the ship, your fingers dim between the white and blue rays as you wondered: Is it honorable to seek for revenge? Is it true to a Jedi to feel this gut-wrecking wrath?

You know the answer deep inside. You know it’s wrong, yet your feet think otherwise, cause when you leave the ship in the middle of the night you still debate yourself if you should disobey, if you should do what you want instead, walking through the woods like you know which way to go.

You never disobey any command, so it’s a new thing to openly doubt about the judgement of your superiors, to walk in an unknown planet despite the orders you were told. The path seems to light by itself as you can sense it in the air, the force conducting you in silence as you walked in a fast pace. You know deep down, know everything went wrong.

The blue light of your sable is enough to light the way, the humidity in the air makes you sweat as concentrated in the sounds of the nature, you run, run until your lungs are burning and your heartbeats are so fast you’re afraid the organ itself is going to jump out of your chest. You run even when the long leaves of the plants hit you in the face, when your legs are getting cramps and you can feel the lack of oxygen: The pain is not enough to stop you.

You can hear it from far away, the heat of the fight. The sounds of the physical effort, the buzzing of the lightsables against the silent night. Adrenaline creeps across your blood flow, and even when you can't breathe properly at all you run to the chaos, driven like a moth to the flame. You let the force conduct you as you close your eyes, jumping and elevating from the floor enough to hold the sable from over your head — You attack.

I'm searching for you. Even in my dreams.

It’s coming again, the rough sound of your dreams when your blue sable hits the red out of nowhere, force colliding against each other as the impact is enough to send you directly to the floor. You know who the enemy is, the surprise in Jecki’s face and the disapproval moments after

The stranger is fast and he doesn’t hesitate when he strikes, it’s fast enough to hurt in a mortal way and you became aware of it when Jecki’s falling to the ground and the acid in your mouth is enough to make you look away — The anger comes moments after, the red stains blurring your vision as you let out a scream, gathering the force to dodge his deadly attack.

It’s for Indara, the young padawan, and the Jedi’s he just slayed like they were nothing: It stings in your soul yet you stop holding back, stop holding yourself to finally hit harder, to strike faster than he does, to hurt the stranger as much as he hurted you. And he responds, but not fast enough to beat you, cause you let the metallic back of your sable hit his head when he’s kneeled on the floor, and you smile to yourself cause you have no damn mercy when his helmet finally cracks and it’s enough to break apart revealing his face.

It’s all it takes then. All it takes to froze you in that very spot, holding the sable over your head, ready to end his life with no second thought.

You know that face. You know it when suddenly he’s smiling at you.

I'm searching for you. Even in my dreams.

It makes sense soon after, lowering the sable to the floor without fully believing it, a ghost in front of you as you feel the air leaving your lungs. Drinking the sight of him like he’s not real, like it’s a sick joke your mind made to break you down, to make you weaker.

You’re pulled by a sudden force, by the force. However, falling to the floor hurts way less than seeing him again, the words stuck in your throat unable to speak. It’s imminent, it’s devastating when the pain catches you by surprise, your back aching against the rough surface.

He’s going to kill you, isn’t he?

It makes sense to die by his hand. The memories you two share, the intimacy that was taken away so sudden, it only makes sense to die by the one you loved before, even if it's a surprise you'll never recover from.

The heat of his red lightsaber against your neck is not enough to scare you, but enough to finally look at his face, to encounter his eyes and reveal the truth that was hidden all along between lies. You experience the intensity of his gaze, how it softens when realizing you're looking at him with that same look you have been doing it years ago.

"You're alive" it slips away from you before even noticing, the sound of your voice wrapping him in a haze he didn't expect at first, to be so devastated by you even after all the time resenting the Jedi's and everything they represented "Qimir you're alive..."

He knows you're shocked, the sound of your voice piercing in his ears as he threatened with the weapon against your neck, any sudden movement would slice you in the second — "Hello to you too."

He's real, when he speaks out loud you know he's real, he's standing in front you erasing all the theories you made about not sleeping enough now making you delusional, he's there, standing ready to kill and take what he wants to feel like he won.

It's a personal vendetta, you know it as you expect any answer, any word at all until Sol's screaming as he's taken away from you once again.

He's not a friend, he's not the Qimir you once knew, and he's not someone you can trust again as he was ready to kill. He's not was he used to be, and you can tell by the way he moves, the way he goes against Master Sol hoping to leave the Jedi in the floor, his anger when he refers to his acolyte as a traitor.

He's the one responsible for Indara's death indirectly. He's not a lover. He's not a friend.

You think he died years ago, never really understanding what really happened to the bright man you met in Coruscant, a secret no one dared to bring up. He has the same fucking smile you know too well, the one that make you crumble completely in the sight, and it sadden you, it saddens you he take that path when you seem to woke up from whatever has you nailed to the floor and finally run to help Sol.

You believe you're in the right side, you've been taught about the light and the dark, and you put your heart out filling your mouth saying how you're doing good, how you're making things right.

It's kill or get killed. It’s clear that Qimir does not seem to care about any connection you shared before, hurting you no longer means whatever it meant before, and as the sable burnt your tight, no one cares when you're fainting in the floor, abandoning the fight when it approaches his end.

Sol's mad, but it's not enough to make the master stop to check if you're alive. So many lives were lost in Khofar, and the fight was so demanding you're soon forgot in a planet when the sun is finally rising.

You know you've always been alone, know the last time you saw your family you were too young to even remember, so it's not a surprise when you're left behind. Jedi's come and go, that's why they keep training them generation after generation — It's expected to lose some percentage in missions.

What's not expected, it's when Qimir is close to your cold body later in the early morning. Still deep induced in the fever of pain when he's betrayed by his own heart, his old feelings resurfacing even when he made sure to bury them in a hole in the back of his head.

He's weak it seems. And he should be ashamed of himself when he's the one carrying you back to his ship when everyone has left you behind.

I'm searching for you. Even in my dreams.

Is that his voice? The rough sound that makes you wake up in a uncomfortable place with clothing you don't remember owning.

You're confused for a second before realizing you're in unknown place, a cold breeze shivering your skin: You're in someone's house, using someone's bed.

It's all it takes to make you stand up, leaving the warm sheets behind as your eyes scan the place looking for both a person or a way out. There's a saucepan in the fire cooking slowly, and a smell you can't describe at first.

You move carefully, theories in your mind about what happened that seemed so imposible. You're sure you're far from Coruscant where you should be, yet, you don't feel much danger when you discover you're left alone in what it seems to be a cave, one that lets a windy current enter through a slit between the rocks.

You're unsupervised: Does that mean you're not a prisoner?

You remember fainting in the cold surface of Khofar, the humidity in the air as the air leaves your lungs before entering a state of unconsciousness. You remember Qimir as a ghost in front of you, smiling like he's young again, trying to get to your room in the middle of the night as if it wasn't forbidden.

Was that your dream about? A warning about the stranger being alive?

You don't dare to drink the water, you don't dare to touch any belonging more than the necessary when inspecting. Its more of a hiding than a home itself, so it lacks of belongings as you can't find anything else more than your clothes, protecting yourself from the cold air.

You're not treated as a prisoner, yet you don't feel any safe at all due to the recent events that seemed to say otherwise. You cannot seem to find your sable, and the silence it's making you lose patience.

The cave is a mess soon after, you're searching for your most important weapon, so now the lack of it seems to make you nervous. You search until you're no longer alone, a new presence in the cave as you adopt a pose of defense.

"Where's my sable?" you ask to what it seems the air, acting all tough before noticing who's the person that dragged you to a different planet, the responsable of healing your wounds with a unexpected speed. You know who it is from before, the change in the cave when he's around even when you don't receive any answer back "I'm talking to you, Qimir."

He doesn't talk when he's tossing it over the things he brought from outside, the orange details in the heavy metal shining against the dim lights of the cave. He knows you are not leaving without it, that you're too attached to it for your bad luck.

"Where am I?" you ask soon enough. At this point you lack of patience out of all, you're tired and your body is sore, you're still dreaming that very same thing, and you're not resting enough to keep your mind sane, so it's not a surprise when you're demanding answers, after all, you wanted to know what happened back in Khofar.

It hits you how much you miss him now that he is in front of you in full silence, not in the middle of violence like before, how much you wanted to hug him until he no longer breathes and spat something stupid as a not-very-funny joke. You miss him after all those years of believing he's death, that he disappeared out of sudden without telling nobody, not even you.

The silence makes you mad, and the stranger knows it, sense it in the force when the anger hits you, filling the air of the cave that feels small even when the spaces are big enough. He lied. That's all you can think of, he lied and never bothered to tell you he's alive after suffering his departing so whole heartedly.

Nights without sleeping as you let the insomnia carry you to a state you can't leave, overflowed by feeling you've learnt to deal with in the pass of time. Time heals it all they say, but it just makes things more bearable, help you live with it.

But now. Now it was cruel, it's a wound that opened by itself with the things you saw, the person he was now, embracing his dark side like it was something worth celebrating.

"Talk to me," you say, and you don't know why you're the one asking for answers when you shouldn't. "This is not fucking fair."

Fair.

"Nothing's ever fair," he says, and the sound of his voice is enough to make you shiver. Now that you're surrounded only by the crashing sound of the waves hitting the rocks outside, you can hear him without the buzz of the fight. "Your people know that very well. You make the rules after all. You decide what's fair in the galaxy."

It's a knife in your heart. You don't want him to affect you like he does, but it's impossible when it stings like a burnt from the sable, the weight of his words, the hatred on his tone when he spits the words like they're acid in his tongue.

"I've never made nothing" it's a declaration of self-hatred at it most, how you've not been capable of doing much even when you pride on being called a Jedi Knight. "You know that."

There's no response. You're used to follow orders, not question, trust you're working with the correct side, so his look is something new, something that leaves goosebumps on your skin.

"You're alive," you still don't believe it at first, now studying his factions like they were still craved in stone back on your head. "After all these years, you couldn't tell me you were alive?"

It's a bad joke, one that makes you laugh leaving a bittersweet taste in your mouth — "You couldn't tell your best friend you were leaving? Nobody talked about you all of sudden, you became a dream. Almost making me sure you never existed at all."

"That's what they told you? That I leaved?" the way he's telling the information makes you furrow your brows in response, trying to make sense of what he was saying: Was he implying they lied to you?

"Please, explain me then" you're not in the mood of fighting, instead, you want information, crucial information to what you were choosing to be "Enlighten me. Tell me why you left me there without saying goodbye. Why it doesn't seem to affect you as much as it affected me."

The stranger has grown cold. He has now adapted beneath this rough amour that separated him from what he was before. So he doesn't give you any answers even when you question him, looking at you without saying a word.

You've changed too. You're not the little padawan that followed Indara around and look up at Torbin, you're not afraid of showing your force anymore, after all those years he has told you you're more than capable of defeating any enemy, you are starting to believe it more that ever. Even when he's not around to see that change happen in front of his eyes.

He's not going to answer, he's not talking nor giving you what you needed.

"Am I prisoner?" you ask again, another question added to the pile.

"Does it look like you're being held?" he asks back, squatting close to the stove in the fire to the stir his soup. "No. You're not my prisoner."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. He always was a man full of pride, but now it seemed he thrive in it, in sharing his knowledge he was sure it was so powerful he needed to take a pupil, some kind of dark padawan he wanted to train.

"I don't know you anymore Qimir," you state out loud, hoping to talk to him as a long-time friend, as the person he was in love all those years but never acted on it too afraid of the rules at first. "I don't know who you've become, and i've been mourning you like it's only yesterday you vanished from my life, yet you've been alive, plotting against your family."

"Family?" he asks, hurted by the words you choose. "I've never had a family. You know that very well, it was always me against them, against anyone who questioned their power, their use and knowledge of the force."

"So is that how we are going to act now? Like pride is enough to make you leave and act like we were never a thing? That I wouldn’t die for you without even question?" you seem disappointed as you speak — “Why you didn’t kill me back there when you had the chance?”

He's taken back by your words, the sincerity as you admit what it seemed impossible to say back then. It’s known by him the feelings he had for you were enough to stop the whole galaxy, but he never had the courage to say something about it, to go against the rules and let alone admit to you anything at all.

So to know that you care for him, even when you talked about it like it was in the past, is enough to make him short-circuit, to make his face change in a new look.

“You already know why I didn’t kill you” he says it so casually while cooking, that even when you stand in the middle of the room trying to think about anything, anything more that him and his powerful gravity that made you spin around him, drawn by his pulling force — “Doesn’t matter who you stand with, i’d never do anything to you.”

You let that sink in. You let him say it cause maybe, deep down, it’s what you need. Your eyes are full of tears but you don’t want to let any single tear roll from your eyes the second you feel the sadness, you don’t want to show any weakness whatsoever, anything that will make you look less than what you really are.

“I could ask you the same” he says soon after, looking at you from over his shoulder in a low voice that sends shivers down your spine “Why did you let me live back there?”

It’s a bruise in your ego, to your sense of defense — Walls up, not letting any feeling show at all. His question is left out in the space as you look at him through narrowed eyes, reminding yourself he’s the enemy.

He cannot have the satisfaction. He’s the one behind Verosha’s twin sister after all, the one who send her to seek her own revenge. You know you should kill him with no second though, to cease with the leak, destroy the rebel cause that was so dark and powerful, so dangerous, but as before, you can’t hurt him by any chance, too attached to the enemy to even think about using the force against him.

Qimir. You don’t expect him to be alive, to be so angry at his lies. You don’t expect him to be the threat to peace and tranquility you’ve been so warned about.

Fuck that. You can’t deal with him again.

Maybe you are a coward after all, not worthy of being called a Jedi Knight. Always too unsure, questioning if you’re doing things the right way.

It’s not your fight. It’s not your place to be, you’re not his prisoner so you reach your lightsaber quick enough to leave his side, holding the weapon against your bare hands as you leave the cave, facing the daylight and the ocean in front of you.

You're not his prisoner, so you quickly leave as soon as you can leave, unable to hold his gaze anymore, to answer a question you shouldn't be asked. Even if it's cold outside, the sun still shines and you are sure you're going to find a ship that will take you out of there, as far as possible — Maybe, even leave him there.

But when you walk, you're followed close by in silence. Not a prisoner, but not free enough to leave free whiningly.

Even when you pace fasten enough to try to leave him behind, it seems like it's not a physical effort to follow you near by, to follow the same footsteps you give in order to look for a way to get out.

What's his plan anyway? Follow you forever? He's going to get tired soon enough, the problem is you don't have the patience enough to wait for it, you can't wait for Qimir to be enlightened by mercy, to be rational, to let you leave so you can be as far away from him as possible.

So at any sudden sound, you happen to snap, to turn on the sable in one swift movement, quick enough to pull it against his neck, almost touching his skin, the blue light reflecting in his pupils as he seemed pleased by your attention.

That's what he wants in the end. Even if it's anger, he wants to get any reaction out for him.

"Stop following me around" it's a knot on your throat, a sting in the heart as you threat him, the sound of your voice almost mixing with the loud crashing of the ocean. "You said yourself, i'm no prisoner."

He can sense your anger yet he's devastated by what you've become, devastated by finally being in front of you. Even when you're hesitating to spare his life once again, he's driven by the smell he was so caught on before, the memories you brought, attacked by the lonely life he was forced to live, the perks he enjoyed embracing his dark side.

It seems like forever, an eternity while the energy just flows, while the tension consume you both.

You're caught in a spiderweb you cannot get out, cause when he opens his mouth to speak again, you don't expect to make your world tremble that way.

"I was searching for you."

You know what's coming next, the sound of his voice like a recorder playing over and over in your head, the vibrations of his tone matching the ones you've been dreaming about lately.

"I was searching for you. Even in my dreams."

It's enough to make you lower your sable.

To make the stranger smile.

my masterlist

[user2772636]

Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

Having to be in pairs for a group project, two people with mixed feelings work together to create a presentation. Going into eachothers houses is easy until a certain cat wants to play cupid. Feelings erupt, and miscommunication has to be endured. A soccer game in the rain might prove that Descamps listens more than he should.

===

Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warnings: bullying (poor pichon), boys being boys, very confusing feelings, angst bcs of achilles and patroclus (maybe even joseph and reader???), miscommunication in the enemies to lovers department, swearing

This chapter has references to The Song of Achilles book (ik its not the right timeline, but we have to do this for the angst so bare w me)

===

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Chapter three: He is half my soul, as the poets say

===

The scores of our exams are being published. I sit in my seat, eyes scanning the numbers and fingertips smoothing out the paper. Most of them are in the ranges of 12-16, which is good enough for me.

"As you know, this is a school where we like to experiment with new methods. Next week, we are going to try a new approach." I look up from my papers, interested in the proposal of something new.

"You're going to prepare a presentation, working in pairs. You'll be working with the classmate sitting next to you, and then you'll present your work in class together. And for a sense of free will, you can present about any subject. How does that sound?"

I look to the girl next to me. Her name was Louise. She's quiet most of the time and keeps to herself. I smile softly. She smiles back.

The teacher clears his throat, eyes on Descamps and Dupin. "You two, of which I already expect a chaotic presentation, will be paired with someone else." His eyes land on me and Louise. Please, no.

"Descamps and Pardine, Louise and Dupin. Please remember your partner." I internally groan, placing my head into my hands. I look to my side, already seeing Louise and Dupin waving to each other, Louise giggling. I groan again. I don't look at Descamps. He doesn't, either.

Pichon raises his hand. "What if we're sitting alone?" The class laughs. I look at Pichon in pity.

"Well, you can work with Ms. Sabiani." The teacher says in response.

"Look. Pichon is blushing. He's turned pink like a pig." Dupin says, and the class laughs again. Even Louise giggles. She likes him, it's obvious, but what is there to like? I roll my eyes.

"That's enough, Dupin." The teacher shouts at him, the smile on his face gone. Annick raises her hand.

"Do we really have to work in pairs?" She asks.

"That's the whole point." He answers. "And I'm warning you, half a pair's work will result in half the grade."

××《☆》××

As I walk down the stairs, I look up when I hear pigs oinking. I wasn't wrong. Descamps' group of friends are pigs.

When I spot Simone and Michèle in the bench under the tree, our usual spot, I make my way to them.

"Help me gain some decency to go up to Descamps and not punch him in the face." I groan as I sit on the bench with them.

"It's unfortunate for you. Our teacher could've picked anyone else." Michèle says, pity in her voice.

"Should I go talk to him now or later?" They don't answer because they see Descamps make his way towards us.

I fight the urge to start an argument with him. About anything, really. Just to get him to stay a bit longer. I clear my throat at the thought.

"Your place?" He says, now standing infront of us, hands in his pockets. I nod once, and he walks away.

"Thank god that was over quick." Something deep inside me knew I didn't mean that.

Jean Pierre walks towards us with a book in hand. I look at Simone with a teasing smile, but there's something in her eyes I can't really tell. Like she knows something.

"Here, this is yours." He hands Michèle the book. "I put it in my bag by mistake." Michèle thanks him. He walks away with a 'see you later'.

Michèle continues to complain to us about her grades. Simone sighs, mind floating away. I look at her confused. I'll ask her about it later.

I look towards Applebaum. We make eye contact, and I smile. He looks away, fear in his eyes. What's up with everyone today?

××《☆》××

In one of those rare moments, my parents are home for dinner. We sit in the dining table, enjoying our food.

"Someone's coming over tomorrow. I know you won't be here, but I thought it'd be better if you knew." I tell them, handing small bits of food to George.

"Oh? What will you be doing?" My father asks, cutting his food into smaller pieces.

"Group project. We'll probably just stay in my room." I pet George as he eats his food.

"Are we going to meet her even after the project?" My mother says, looking up from her food.

"He, actually. And no." This makes them pause, silence surronding the room. My father clears his throat.

"A boy? And both of you will be in your room?" He says, placing his elbows on the table.

I take time to process this. "Papa, no. It's not like that." I turn red in my seat. "Trust me, it's just a project. Nothing else."

"Of course we trust you. It's just, you know. You're a teen, and teens go through... stuff." My mother says, stuttering a bit. I cover my face with my hands.

"Mama, please don't make it weird." I groan.

"No, it's perfectly normal for your age. If you want, we can forget about it-" I cut her off.

"Yes, please. Forget about it." I cut my food aggressively, face as warm as my plate.

We stay quiet as we finish the rest of our dinner.

××《☆》××

"The league of nations, L.O.N..." I fade the rest of the discussion out, watching the way the sun rests on the trees leaves, the birds tending to themselves. Last nights conversation clouds my mind, and I catch myself smiling for no reason.

I sigh every time, biting my lip in my own embarrassment. I glance at Descamps. He's focusing on the lesson for once. Nothing will happen at my place, right?

He feels my gaze on him and gently turns his head. His eye meets mine, and there's a small quirk on the corner of his lip.

"Quiet at the back." Ms. Giraud calls out suddenly.

Descamps looks away. I purse my lips, something stirring in my chest. My breathing is faster, and I feel warmer. Have I gotten sick already?

Annick walks into the room, hair tousled and frizzy. Ms. Giraud shouts at her, and my ear drums are about to explode.

Ms. Giraud gives Annick detention, and with every word Annick said back, an hour or two more.

Ms. Giraud continues to piss me off every second of the day with her strictness and very clear jealousy towards Annick. She finally continues the discussion, and I (annoyingly) decide to finally listen.

××《☆》××

I wait right outside the gate for Descamps. He comes running to the gate but slows down when he sees me, acting like he wasn't just leaping to get here.

"Hey." He says, acting nonchalant. He even has his hand in his pocket.

"Hi. Let's get going." I keep my face blank as I lead the way to my place. We walk in silence, listening to our footsteps next to each other.

Once we make it to my flat's building, I go up the steps, stopping in front of my door and unlocking it.

We step inside, the flat looking warm with the sunlight entering through the windows. I lock my door and drop the keys on my kitchen counter.

"Your coat?" I reach my hands out. He throws his coat to me, the heaviness of it making me stumble. I scowl but hang it anyway.

"Head to my room. Down the hallway to the right." I say as I grab a few supplies from my father's office.

"Want me in your bed already?" He calls out once he's inside. I hear a yelp.

I run to my room. "Descamps, are you okay?" I ask worriedly. He stares at George.

"What is that?" He points to George, who's currently walking toward me. I bend down and pet him, planting a kiss on his head.

"This is George." I carry George and craddle him like a baby. I walk towards Descamps with the furball in my arms. I rock him slowly.

"You can touch him if you want. He doesn't bite." I smile at the orange cat, then look up at Descamps. He's staring at me with the most soft look I've seen him wear. My heart thumps in my chest.

He clears his throat, hand going up shakily to pet George. George purrs when Descamps pets him. There's now a smile on Descamps face, as warm as his stare.

I bite my lip at the proximity. I memorise as much as I can about him.

The way he was breathing, like he was on a bed so soft he could sink into it. The way he smelt like faded cigarette smoke and expensive cologne. The way his bones moved under his skin as he bent over to take a closer look at George. The number of times he's blinked, the number of times he's laughed under his breath.

I dive deeper into my trance as he looks up at me. The way he stared now is so different from the way he did all those times before. Like we knew something that we haven't acknowledged yet. Or chose not to.

Something falls in the kitchen, and we snap back to reality. My face warms up, the lighting from the windows making it clearer.

Descamps walks away from me, clearing his throat again. "The cat's ugly." This makes me snap my head to his direction.

"What did you just say?" My brows furrow, defensive of the cat sleeping in my arms.

He rolls his eye. "Nothing. Let's get the project started, I guess." I glare at him for a couple more seconds, then I gently place George down on the bed, excusing myself to get more stuff from my father's office.

When I'm halfway to my room, I hear whispering. I peek at the slit on my door, wondering what was happening behind it.

Descamps is petting George, whispering words as if he's hushing a baby to sleep.

My aura softens, and my heart bursts with admiration. I accidentally drop something and curse to myself. Descamps hears the thud on the floor and pushes himself away from George. George continues to sleep.

I open the door then close it gently. "Let's get started."

××《☆》××

"Do you have suggestions?" I ask Descamps. He doesn't answer, his head turned to the side. I sigh.

Before I could say anything, he talks. "What's that?" He nods to the book on my shelf. It was a copy of the story of Achilles and Patroclus, with a notebook strapped on the front.

"It's nothing important." I shake my head. He purses his lips in thought.

"Can I see it?" His question catches me off guard, his head finally turning to look at me. No one's ever showed interest in my books or notes. I stay quiet, then after a while, I nod.

He gets up from the bed and grabs the book. He takes the string that attaches the notebook to the copy off. He scans the back of the book and hums.

"We can base the project off of this, if you don't mind." He holds up the paperback and the notebook. I'm stunned in my place.

"It's really not that interesting-"

"It must be if you had a whole notebook dedicated to it." There isn't even a teasing tone when he said that. He meant it genuinely.

"Fine." I sigh, grabbing the notebook from his grasp.

"Good." "Great." "Amazing." "Piss off." "Whatever."

"Mind if you read it to me?" He says. "I have a feeling I'll understand better when you say it, since it's your work."

I nod, hesitantly. I opened the first page of my notebook. Most of the stuff I've written in it is a summary and a review of the book.

He leans back on my pillows. I let him. I started to read.

"Patroclus was a young prince, exiled from his kingdom for accidentally killing a boy, and was taken in by their neighbouring king, King Peleus."

George purrs as I pet him. I shift to a more comfortable sitting position. Descamps' eyes are on me.

"When Patroclus first saw Achilles, it was in a competition run by Patroclus' father. He described Achilles as if he was looking at a painting made with precision and grace." I flip the page. George walks over to Descamps' lap. I huff, ignoring it.

"When they met and officially talked, Patroclus thought he'd hated Achilles. Achilles and his beauty, his speed, his perfection. In the years that pass, they grow to be attached to the other." George meows. The meow that indicates he wants petting.

I pause my reading, and Descamps looks at me confused. "Why'd you stop?"

"George wants pets." Descamps makes an 'oh' sound and pets George. He meows again.

"Maybe he wants you." Descamps says, petting the fur baby on his lap. I sigh and lean in close to pet George. With the uncomfortable position, I shift to sit beside Descamps on the bed. I clear my throat and pet George. I continue to read.

"They knew everything about each other. What they'd prefer, like how I like the rain too much to cover it with an umbrella, but know I'll get sick without it. That's how the two worked. They knew every detail, every routine, every habit, every movement. A love you'd have to fight the gods for."

A page is flipped, smoothing out of paper echoes in the room.

"Achilles and Patroclus loved each other with every inch of their heart and soul. Quoting the book, Patroclus states, 'He is half my soul, as the poets say'. Along with the famous paragraph." My eyes switch to the next page.

Descamps shifts in his place, leaning back on the pillows, looking at the pages where I'm reading off of. I start to relax, leaning back, too. George purrs.

"I could recognise him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world."

I take a glance at Descamps, and he's already looking at me. George snores in his sleep, making the aura of the room warmer. More comfortable.

His eye dropped to my lips, and I could've sworn I was hearing a heartbeat as fast as the wind at fall. I glance at his, pink and soft, like a cushion ready for rest.

When we lean in, slowly, too slow, my heart drops as he pulls away and stretches. I furrow my eyebrows, a dread of realisation. He's been toying with me. I close my notebook and gather my things.

"Where are you off to?" He asks. I don't answer him.

"Hey," He grabs my arm. I take it back from him. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing." I say coldly. "I'll finish this project myself."

"What? No. This is a group project remember?"

"I can't keep doing this. You're too hard to work with." I stack the books and materials in my arms.

"We haven't even gotten anything done yet." He flops his hands in the air.

"Exactly. You're too distracting."

"What did I do? I've been quiet the whole time."

"Yeah, well, that's the problem. You're too quiet. You aren't suggesting things."

"What does that have to do with anything?" He raises his voice.

"Just shut up, okay? Just leave. I told you I'll finish the project by myself." I get up from the bed, heading to my father's office.

"But I don't get why you're suddenly mad!" He stands up, following me.

"You don't have to know. Just leave me alone, okay?"

"Fucking fine. You're being too stubborn anyways. Do all the work. Getting pissed off for no fucking reason." He grabs his coat from the rack, putting it on. He doesn't even glance at me, opening and shutting the door with a loud slam.

I even out my breathing. It was going fine. Then I think to myself, what was? Me and Descamps, going fine? I laugh at the thought. I hated that boy. I hated him with my whole heart. My mind travels to the notes I was just reading.

Patroclus had thought he hated Achilles in the start, too. I shake the thought out of my head, slipping against the wall to sit on the floor, knees to my chest.

I hear tapping on the floor boards. I look to my side to see George, meowing softly. I take a deep breath in, then reach my hand out to pet him.

I hate him. And I know I do. He lingers in my mind like a fog in the mountains. The way his aura had softened, his smile, his warmth. I hated the thought of him, but then he smiled, and like Achilles, his face was like the sun.

××《☆》××

Night comes, and I lay in my bed, windows slightly open for the wind to come through. I'm restless, not getting a blink of sleep. I'm halfway through the project already. If Descamps had helped, it'd take longer, I think to myself, trying to still feel angry.

I don't feel angry at all anymore. There's a sort of regret in me for pushing him away. But at the same time, it's what he deserved. We had leaned in, and I didn't even know what I was expecting. I should've expected him to pull away, but what was he going to do in the first place?

Was he going to whisper in my ear? If so, what would he whisper to me? Was he going to say something about how I write, how I speak? A thought so blurry pops up in my head, and I brush it off. But it felt warm, so safe, so soft. There was a scent stuck in my head as I reminisced on the thought, trying to figure out what I was thinking.

I fall asleep in the process, dreaming about the thought instead. Limbs touching, bending, adjusting. I taste cigarettes and strawberries. I smell smoke and expensive perfume. I feel something soft against my lips, hands cupping my face, my neck, my head, and my waist.

He felt warm, tall, and heavy against me. I hold onto the dream, relaxing.

××《☆》××

I wake up, sweat coating my skin. George sits on the window sill, the sun making him shine like gold. I sit up and stretch. I get off my bed and head to my bathroom.

My hair is messy, and I have a bit of dried drool on the corner of my mouth. I wash my face to give myself some energy. I take my clothes off lazily, tying my hair up and getting inside my shower.

Once I finish, I comb and fix my hair, head to the kitchen for a quick breakfast, grab my things for school, including the unfinished project, and head to the front door.

A stack of paper tied with string greets me. I furrow my eyebrows. There's no note. I squat down and pick it up. I instantly know who it's from.

It's an essay about Achilles and Patroclus, detailed and opinionated. Written on the last piece of paper, sitting at the bottom of the stack, it reads, "I bought a copy. Finished it for you."

I stood still, processing the words, flipping through the papers to double check if they're authentic. I let out a scoff of surprise. My head snaps to a nearby clock. I'm going to be late if I don't start walking now.

My feet carry me to the front gates of Voltaire, the familiar faces and light chatter calming me. I spot Simone and Michèle, and I make my way to them.

××《☆》××

Rain starts to fall. The rain always brought me comfort. The different sounds it made when hitting different objects, the way it sways with the wind, the smell it gives the grass after.

I lag behind Simone and Michèle as they make their way to the field. I look for my satchel, then remember I'd forgotten my umbrella. I curse to myself, finding the satchel. It felt heavier than usual. I look inside, then see a clear umbrella. I open it and twist it around, gaping in awe. There's a note in the bag. I open to read it.

"Don't get sick from what you love." The note said.

There's only one person I've told about my love for rain.

I head outside, hiding my red face once I see a drenched one-eyed boy. I smile to Simone and Michèle, spotting them seated on a bench. I glance behind me as I sit down, finding an eye already looking at me with a small smile. His smile drops, and he looks away when I catch him. I purse my lips.

We watch the match, getting my mind off of the boy with ash brown hair. Once the match finishes, we all make our way home. I look up, seeing the rain pattering against the clear umbrella. I smile, watching the water droplets slip off the plastic, hearing the pattering of rain.

××《☆》××

The next day, I repeat my routine. I thoroughly read through Descamps' essay, rewritting it to fit in with mine. I should be thankful, and I am, but Descamps is making my head hurt with the way he acts. I walked to school, going subject after subject, until our presentation finally came.

Earlier, I'd slipped him the script, tucking it in his bag. I hope silently that he's memorised it.

Annick and Pichon are presenting in front of the class. I smiled softly, impressed by the presentation, and refreshed with the dynamic of the two. If only things had gone differently with Descamps, we could've been good friends. But we aren't. I don't think we ever will.

Once they finish, our teacher calls me and Descamps to the front. My anxiousness radiates off my body. Simone and Michèle give me a reassuring look. I nod at them slightly.

My eyes meet Descamps, and we're standing at the front of the class. They're quiet, and my eyes scan all of them. Surprisingly, Descamps starts.

"Me and Pardine are going to present the story of Achilles and Patroclus and the debate of their relationship; romantic or platonic?" Descamps looks at me, his hand hovering at the small of my back for support.

I start, and faster than I thought, I finish the presentation. The room claps, as they do with the others. I glance at Descamps but see him already walking back to his seat. My smile dropped slowly, remembering I was still on his bad side, and vice versa.

I walk back to my seat quietly. I don't even hear the score because my mind is too occupied with the thought of him. Would we stay angry at eachother always? At the same time, it shouldn't matter. I hate him. Right?

I shake my head. I hate him, surely. I should. I dig deep in my head for a reason. Bullying Pichon and Michèle, toying with my feelings (feelings I'm not aware whether it's good or bad), the way he acts, and smells, and feels when he's near.

I fucking hate him. I really do. I hate him, I repeat in my head. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him.

Then, like earlier, something inside me knows I don't mean it.

At the end of the day, I make peace with solitude. My mind wanders, and I notice that every time it does, they always end up with the face of a one-eyed boy.

Sure, Descamps gave me a finished essay for our project, and sure, he gave me an umbrella that was clear so I could see the rain. So what? I still hate him. Maybe just a little less now.

××《☆》××

End- Chapter three: He is half my soul, as the poets say.

Next- Chapter four: Flashy Magazines

××《☆》××

End of chapter three. Rollercoaster of emotions this one. It's a bit shorter than usual because i took out a bunch of the scenes in the series to focus on the emotions of reader and hopefully u guys get what im trying to give. Thanks for reading, requests r open, and see u next chapter!!!

[faithshouseofchaos]

Doctors orders — Poly!Maxiel x male!doctor/Psychologist!reader

@crispysoup318

Word count — 537

Fluff

“Come on schat please please let me up I have to go. I have community service, remember?” Max groans. It had been a long week between the FIA fining Max for cursing during a conference and the rumors about your other boyfriend getting dropped mid season. “Too bad you and Daniel are taking a mental health weekend doctor's orders” y/n says, tightening his arms around max. “It doesn’t really work like that y/n Max has to show up” Daniel chimes in.

“I've already informed RBR that you were under strict orders and will be unavailable. No one is leaving this house this weekend” y/n says, his tone final. Daniel and Max look at each other and sigh at him. They knew better than to argue. When Max's doctor got like this he wasn't going to listen. “And what exactly do you want us to do for 2 days stuck in here?” Daniel asks.

Daniel pouts while Max groans. They were used to being busy 24/7, relaxing sounded awful. “So basically you just want to keep us in a cuddle puddle all weekend?” Max asks, raising an eyebrow. “Yes. For 2 days and 2 nights I don't want to see either of you move” the doctor responds, pulling them in even closer.

“You're taking this doctor thing way too seriously” Daniel grumbles. He didn't like not being allowed to do anything and he knew Max didn't either. The doctor had them almost on top of him, his arms wrapped around both of them in a tight embrace. “Stop complaining and relax” the doctor orders.

“Fine fine” Daniel grumbles, y/n squeezing him tighter. Max sighs and leans more into the doctor's chest. “But it doesn't mean I have to like it,” Max complains. Y/n snorts and shakes his head. “I'm surprised you don't like the idea of cuddles and kisses and gentle caresses all weekend,” the doctor said, stroking both boy's hair.

Both boys sigh as Y/n continues to caress their hair. They were used to his gentle and loving touches but there was something extra special about them today. The caresses were softer and each touch lingered longer. “Ugh I hate it when you have a point” Max mumbles into the doctor’s chest.

Daniel nods before leaning against y/n too. Y/n chuckles, amused at his two boyfriends complaining. He continued to gently pet their hair while they pouted in his arms. “Admit it, deep down you're secretly enjoying the idea of being doted on all weekend” the doctor teased.

Max and Daniel exchange a glance before groaning out yes. They were secretly excited at the idea of no racing, no community service and just two days of cuddles. Y/n chuckles once more, pleased with the answer. “That's what I thought, now shut up and cuddle” y/n orders, pulling them even closer.

Max and Daniel sigh but obligingly put their arms around the doctor. They weren't used to being told what to do but they knew better than to argue with the doctor. Max closed his eyes and snuggled further into the doctor's chest. Dan laid his head on y/n's shoulder, letting himself relax into the embrace.

[mysumeow]

WANDERER ALPHABET PT. 1/2🥛. . ♡ 💭

warnings: afab genitalia, gn pronouns. overstimulation, edging, scara kinda yandere coded ig, unprotected piv, mentions of oral

a/n: it's finally here T_T remember this all is just my take on wanderer ;7; i hope everyone enjoys it n_n

PART TWO

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He's going to make either a teasing remark on how he didn't even go that hard (he def did) or how you're weaker than he thought as he helps you walk to the bathroom.

He'll huff, roll his eyes, and complain all he wants, but he won't leave you alone until he's sure you're taken care of. He'll hold you the whole night in his arms.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I don't know why, but I'm convinced he must have pretty hands. Long, slender fingers, and soft skin. What's his secret? He doesn't even have any type of skin care routine. He probably also likes how his back looks; he has a very elegant silhouette.

On his partner, not only their chest but also their thighs. He doesn't care about the size of either. He likes those places for the fact that they're usually sensitive, and he enjoys nothing more than teasing and edging his partner.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He's not human but was designed to look like one. I'd assume he cums about the same as an average human—slightly more if he has gone a good while without pleasuring himself. Thankfully (or not, it depends on you), he has a low refractory period, meaning that he can go a while before he's shooting blanks.

Has a balanced diet, so the taste is far from unpleasant. I feel like the first couple of times he gets intimate with his partner, he won't be able to hide his emotional attachment to them. He likes the idea of "claiming" you by cumming deep inside. If you are against it and prefer to pleasure him with your mouth, he likes it when you show him you swallowed all.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He gets way too excited when he sees you cry during sex. From pleasure; and if you allow it, from pain. This goes hand in hand with overstimulation, since that's his go-to if he wants to make you cry easily. He can be a rough lover if you let him be, but he can also be gentle "if you deserve it" (those are his words). This is a dirty secret you'll have to uncover on your own by being observant: how his eyes gleam when your moans turn into whines and pleas, how he fixes his gaze into your face when he's overstimulating you, how he'll just "mhm" and "yeah" to anything you say, but he's not really paying attention; or when he mocks your moans and pleas.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Before his Wanderer arc, he excluded himself from any positive interpersonal experiences. He would get a disgusting, stomach churning feeling seeping into his being at the thought of being vulnerable to someone else. Before his three betrayals, he was already busy figuring out how to blend in with humans and dealing with all sorts of unfamiliar emotions.

In other words, no experience. Even after his Wanderer arc, I feel like he would need to re-learn how healthy interpersonal relationships work. His partner would need to be understanding and patient.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Any position that will allow him to hold your tits. If it's doggy, his hands will be squeezing them the whole time. If you're on top, his eyes are fixed there too. He might have a preference for cowgirl, since it gives him a pleasing sensation of being wanted, seeing you care about his pleasure to the point where you're exerting your own body. He appreciates the effort, but that doesn't mean he's not going to edge you anyway.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He places lots of sentimental value on sex. It just so happens that his way of showing affection might come across as possessive, ardent, rough. If you're the type to joke during it, he might humor you, but it depends on his mood.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Doesn't shave, barely has any hair down there, after all. You could guess that from glancing at his legs, the hairs are tiny and thin. They're a darker shade of indigo, bordering on black.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

The type to prefer having everything under control. It's going to take a lot of trust for him to allow his partner to take the dominant position, but even when he gives in, he's a brat. Scratch that—topping, bottoming, domming, or subbing—he's gonna be difficult. It's like he finds genuine pleasure in your frustration. If you're patient, good. If not, that means you will become even more desperate, which is good for him too.

He can be romantic, too. You'll know he's sentimental when he's uncharacteristically quieter. It's not that he shuts up at all if he can comment on something to fluster you, but it will happen less.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He would suppress himself, he's ashamed at the idea of performing such mundane actions. His time is way too valuable to spend it on such trivial activities—until it becomes too much.

As long as no one knows and he caves in.

It was fast, and he feels silly for worrying about it. He's relieved that, at last, that tension has left his body. He's convinced he won't fall for it again.

And it happened again.

At some point, he warms up to the idea of caring for his body in that way. Masturbation is linked to healthy body activity, right? Whatever, I'm only doing it because of that. No other reason. (There's another reason).

Still, he tries to not overdo it. By the time he finally gets to hold you in an intimate way, it's like opening Pandora's box. Who knew carnal pleasure could be so addicting.

[collapsedglasshouses]

PLEASE SHUT UP || Nick Ruffilo x fem!Reader [Part One]

DIVIDER ART WORK BY @saradika-graphics

PICTURE FOUND ON PINTEREST

REQUEST [by @yumikitten]: I'm just gonna keep on this Ruffilo train if everyone is okay with it. Ahem. What if Y/N and Nicholas got into a fight? Something that really made them snap and started yelling at each other, saying things they weren't really meaning? It could also just be something super silly tbh. We've all been there. 😅 But Nick finally gets suuuuper tired of screaming at each other and just kisses her to shut her up, which then leads to makeup sex. 😉 I could see him spitefully telling her at some point that he's gonna have to remember this if it got her to shut up so quickly. 🤣 Please don't feel obligated. 😁 My mind is just going zoom. 💕

A/N: FIRST OF ALL, I'M DEEPLY SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG. I had a severe writers block over the last couple of months and couldn't bring myself to work on requests. As compensation i have decided to make a two-parter out of the request. The setting is a maybe a bit different than expected but I hope you like it anyways! Part Two will hopefully be posted soon! ♡♡♡

WARNINGS: angst, cursing, fear of failure, fighting, small room, ... (let me know if i missed something)

TAGLIST: @measuredingold @cncohshit (Let me know if you wanna be added to my general taglist!)

Ever since Y/n had been a child, she was surrounded by music. Her dad was the guitarist of a local rock band and her mom had been playing the violin since forever.

She remembered clearly how her mother had told her that one of the first things she did as a child was smash hey tiny little hands onto the piano that stood in the family’s living room.

As Y/n grew older, her taste in music also changed. Even though she had been learning to play the piano since the age of just four, she noticed how her taste shifted from soft and classical music to later pop and then heavier stuff.

Maybe it had been some kind of rebellion in her teenage years, maybe it had been her father’s taste in music that influenced her or maybe it was her first ever boyfriend who introduced her to Bring Me The Horizon, when she was just fourteen. All Y/n knew, was that she soon found herself sucked into the world of metal and metal core.

It was no shock to anyone close to her, when she was hired to play the keyboard in a band called Bad Omens.

She had met Noah through mutual friends while gaming during the pandemic and they soon became close friends. The band had been working on their third album back than and though it sounded more than good when Y/n first listened to it, Noah thought something was missing. That was when Y/n came into the picture. She had delivered them some parts that amazed the boys so much that they offered her a place in the band. She had gladly accepted it.

Since than the band had been thriving. From tours all over the world, making Y/n travel to parts of the world she had only imagined as a child, to streaming records that made her dad jump in excitement, every time she visited her hometown. Everything was going well for the band.

For Y/n in particular though, nothing was well. Nothing had been like she hoped it would be. While she had grown close to three of her bandmates, one seemingly hated her guts without explanation.

At first, Nick and she had gotten along quite well. She remembered nights where they sat outside and chatted about the most random things while seemingly not getting enough of each other’s presence.

But over time, things had changed. First, he started to distance himself to the point where it couldn’t be called anything but avoidance. Soon, the complaining began. He began to roll his eyes when she said something that made the others laugh. He started making snarky side comments every time she did something slightly different in her performance. Nothing Y/n did was good enough in Nick’s eyes and hell did it annoy her.

She couldn’t wrap her head around what she did to him to make him act that way towards her, considering she was the only one that suffered under his behavior. With everyone else, he was an angel on earth. Always sweet and caring.

Even though she missed the time where Nick acted like that with her, she began to mirror his demeanor. She began to criticize him just as much as he did with her. She was so fed up that she even started to loathe the time she needed to spend with him in one room.

Saying that was difficult was an understatement. Everyone noticed how they started to act and soon the mood started to deteriorate because of their behavior.

But the breaking point was only yet to come.

The stage was set, the lights were dimmed, and the crowd buzzed with anticipation. The band was about to kick of another concert on their tour and Y/n could feel the familiar hum of excitement and nervous energy that waved through the packed room. This was nothing new for Y/n, yet tonight was different. There was an additional weight pressing on her tense shoulders – the intense gaze of Nick, whose eyes seemed to bore into her from across the stage.

As Y/N's fingers glided over the keys, she couldn't shake the feeling that every note she played was being criticized. She stole a glance in Nick's direction, only to find his expression unreadable, yet filled with an intensity that made her uneasy. The rhythmic thump of the bass only increased her anxiety, and the once effortless connection she felt with the music began to waver.

In the midst of a song, Nick shot her a look so disapproving, Y/N lost it. She stumbled over a chord, the crooked sound echoing through the venue. Panic set in as she struggled to regain her composure. She knew the crowd hadn’t noticed but for her it was a disaster. For the rest of their set, her heart seemingly jumped out of her chest in a mix of fury and anxiety. Nick's disapproving glares persisted, each one a sharp stab at Y/N's confidence. The usually seamless collaboration between band members now felt like pure pain to Y/n. All she did for the rest of the evening was desperately trying to avoid the heavy judgment of Nick’s eyes.

As their performance ended, Y/n felt empty. Heavy tension lingered in the air when they went backstage to compliment each other on another successful concert, but Y/n couldn’t bring herself to feel good. She fucked up bad and only because Nick couldn’t stop with his childish behavior.

After Noah and Jolly comforted her for a second, she came to a stand in front of the bassist. The rest of the guys walked away to calm down, while Y/n’s eyes bore into Nick’s.

Without even thinking, she dragged him into a small room filled with technical stuff.

“What the fuck are you doing, Y/n?” Nick protested as she closed the door behind them.

“What the fuck I’m doing? Could you tell me what the fuck your problem is, Nick?” She shouted at him, not holding back one bit.

“I did nothing.” He quickly defended himself and wanted to grab the door handle, but Y/n walked between him and the exit.

“Keep your fucking judgement to yourself next time.” She warned him and looked into his blue eyes. The rage that fumed inside of her quickly caught up to him.

“Maybe don’t fuck up your notes next time.” He hissed at her.

In the dimly lit room, Y/N couldn't hold back her frustration any longer. "Nick, you can't just keep brushing off my opinions about fucking everything!"

Nick's eyes flashed with irritation. "Well, maybe if you understood music better, your opinions would matter."

The words hung in the air, heavy with tension, as Y/N shot back, "You know, not everyone worships your bass lines, dickhead!"

“Oh, come on, are we this low now?” Nick mocked her and tried to get out of the room again.

“I’m not letting you get out of this room until you finally tell me what the fuck I did to you, Nick.” She fumed at him, her back now pressed against the door.

As the argument escalated; Y/n trying to get answers, Nick trying to avoid the talk; both felt a surge of anger and hurt. But suddenly, Nick, became quiet, took a step forward, his eyes meeting Y/N's defiant gaze.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” – “What?”

Before Y/n could react, Nick grabbed her face and, with an unexpected intensity, kissed her. Time seemed to stand still as Y/n noticed what was happening. She was confused but at the same time she couldn’t bring herself to push him off her. Her eyes fluttered shut as another feeling entered her.

Need.

A feeling she had been suppressing since the second he became cold towards her. She wrapped her arms around his neck while he pressed her firmly against the door. It was a kiss full of anger, frustration but also passion as Nick devoured her lips. Soon he travelled down to her neck and even though a small Parton her was still furious about his action, she definitely needed him more than anything in this moment. He bit her exposed skin, not caring a single second about the marks he was leaving on her as she whimpered in pure bliss. When she tugged at Nick’s hair, he softly moaned against her neck, signaling her she wasn’t alone with her thoughts.

Right as his hands started to travel down her shirt, she remembered what was going on and grabbed his wrist.

A stunned silence enveloped them, broken only by Y/n’s words as they looked into each other’s eyes. "You can't just kiss me to end an argument!"

Nick looked at her with wide blown pupils. It looked like he tried to find his words, but nothing came out.

“Oh look at you, now you can’t even talk to me anymore.” Y/n mocked him with hate in her voice, before she pushed him away from her. She left the room with agony.

She hated Nick for making this whole thing even more confusing than it already was. But she knew one thing.

This was never happening again…

PART TWO COMING SOON

[star-centric]

I'm glad to hear you liked the older Nakahara prompt I sent! Hope you don't mind if I send another, I really like this idea as well. I was thinking of the aftermath of Chuuya learning about his siblings' amnesia and thought what if: Dazai got attached to Chuuya's sibling during the time they were together the same way he started to care for Oda and Ango in the future, basically genuinely seeing them as an older sibling. So now, he's constantly bickering back and forth with Chuuya (not that it's any different from Canon) like brothers and arguing over who's the favorite little brother. I say this because Chuuya's sibling would probably start to see him as a younger brother again, but in a sort of "I already have one baby brother, what's one more?" Type of way. They don't remember that he's their actual brother and think he's mistaken them for his actual sibling. They still think Dazai is their brother. I mean this in a funny way. They complain to Kouyou all the time about their "Little brothers who are constantly fighting"

CHARACTERS: Chuuya Nakahara and Older Sibling!Reader

NOTE: I guess this would count as a “sequel” (?) to this post, but that part doesn’t need to be read to understand this!

CW: strictly platonic/familial relationship, fluff, a teeny tiny bit of angst if you squint but it’s barely noticeable, mild language

“What am I going to do Kouyou?”

“I don’t think there is anything you could do.”

You sighed, already tempted to let your head fall on the table. You felt annoyed, confused, and more importantly- tired. Even when they weren’t around, you could still hear their arguments in your head.

You knew that Dazai and Chuuya had…friction between them. It wasn’t weird that they argue- you just didn’t think it would happen so much. It was tolerable at first, but now it’s getting to the point that you’re wondering what you did to deserve this. They may be two of the deadliest assets to the Port Mafia, but they’re still kids- and your little brothers.

“I mean, their fights don’t even make sense half of the time!” You whined. “I know that they’re teens and it’s bound to happen, but every single day? Don’t I deserve a break from this madness too?”

All Kouyou could do is chuckle and sip on her tea. You wish you could be relaxed like she was, even if she was being entertained by your pain at the moment.

“Of course you do- but I don’t think there’s any way for them to get along willingly outside of missions.”

“They can’t even get along during missions.” Which was true. The mission would be complete and you would come back with what was needed, but Dazai and Chuuya would still bump heads. Sometimes you wondered if your targets were grateful that they would be unconscious if it meant not having to listen to literal teens argue about whatever- you were a little jealous.

“They don’t realize how similar they are to each other- same with their goals revolving around you.”

“Which would be what?”

Kouyou was about to answer when you both heard a smash. Then yelling that was indiscernible at first until-

“See? That’s why I’m the favorite brother!”

“Like hell you are- you’re not even their brother!”

“That’s not what they think.”

You groaned while Kouyou watched on Dazai and Chuuya walked in, glaring at one another.

“Seems like that’s my cue to leave.”

“Wait Kouyou please-“

“I’ll stop by another time when you won’t be so…preoccupied. Have fun!” And with that, she walked off, heels clicking down the hall even with the growing yelling nearing your ears.

Dazai and Chuuya were already at each others throat, ready to hurl out more insults when you finally had enough.

You placed a hand on top of their hands, instantly silencing them.

If you didn’t care for them, you would probably both have them on the floor writhing in pain, showing the same mercy that you showed your enemies- which was none.

But you really did care for them- both of them.

“Hey, didn’t I say you two need to start being nicer to each other?”

“You can’t expect me to be nice to that dog-“

“And you can’t expect me to be nice to that bastard!”

You sighed- don’t know why you expected a different outcome.

“You’re both my favorites- so can you please stop now?”

You ruffled their locks, hearing them grumble under their breaths. You rolled your eyes- they can be so dramatic.

“You’re both my brothers, and nothing is going to change that.”

Chuuya snuck away from your touch, keeping his eyes glued to the floor. You’ve both come a long way from your initial meeting, and while there were some rockiness in the beginning, your relationship had gotten significantly better.

You really did see Chuuya as a brother.

But every time you said that, he would always look so…sad. So defeated, so bitter.

“I’m going to report to the boss.”

He sucked his teeth and walked away, not giving you a chance to stop him.

You thought you messed up any chance of a bond at first, but he gravitated towards you like nothing- so what was the issue? Even with Dazai trying to grab your attention, you couldn’t shake off your worriness.

You would try to get him to tell you what’s wrong, but he would just play it off like it’s nothing. The way his eyes looked just now told you a different story.

It bothered you that you couldn’t decipher what was eating at him. Your head would throb in frustration the harder you tried to dived into it. It was like an itch that you couldn’t scratch, the one thing that would linger on your mind each day.

It was like you were forgetting something.

[tqmies]

First of all congratulations on your 1k 💕 Can I request for your event . Haechan + Enemies to lovers or fake dating ( up to you ) + prompt 2

Bet | Lee Haechan

Part of Tqmies 1K Event!

Enemies to lovers & fake dating au, 2. “Why are you mad?” “I’m not mad, I just think you can choose better people to kiss.” wc: 1.1k Note: i love haechan, i love that my followers love haechan too, now come here so i can give you a big smooch. & thank you <3

"No way." Haechan says, standing firm. "I won't do it."

"I'll pay you a hundred bucks."

"When do I start?"

"Wait, wait!" You interrupt, putting your hands between the two boys. One being Haechan, and the other being your best friend Mark. "I haven't even said anything yet."

"You don't need to baby." Haechan smirks, before swooning dramtically. "I know you're dying for a chance at me."

"I actually hate you." You deadpan but are ignored.

"Hate and love," Haechan sighs. "Such a thin line of difference, both feelings are so intense that you must get them confused."

"Get a load of Shakespeare over here." Jeno remarks, and you laugh.

"Quiet," Haechan bites back.

Mark looks over at you. "So what'll it be? Will you help me?"

Every bone in your body wants to refuse. But Mark's your best friend, and you sigh, knowing he would do it for you if you ever asked.

It just happened to be your luck that Haechan and you were the only free ones in your group. And single, meaning you'd have to pair up with Haechan. Well, Jeno was too but he was tied up for the night due to some baseball practice.

That left you and Haechan as the only ones able to attend this double blind date with Mark as support. And in all honesty, you thought his worry was stupid.

"Why do you need us to go again?" You ask, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"It'd help me feel less nervous! And you guys are the only one's not busy tonight so-"

You sigh, "Whatever Mark, I'll do it."

"Oh thank goodness," Mark deflates. "I was so worried."

"Not doing this for you, I'm doing this for the check!" You elaborate, though Mark knows you're lying, curse your weakness for your best friend.

..

"Remember, you met in high school, Haechan confessed senior year and you’ve been together ever since.” Mark repeats, as you all sit in his car. He’s ran through the scenario like a teacher in front of pre-school children.

But you nod. "Got it."

"Yeah I got it after the first twelve times." Haechan crosses his arms as he wave's Mark off. "We'll be fine, you worry about your date, and let me worry about this freak over here."

"Oh shut up!" You retort. "You're lucky to even pretend you're on a date with someone like me."

Haechan scoffs, "Okay, if that makes you feel better."

As you open your mouth to speak, Mark stops you both, warning. "Guys, you two aren't acting like you're dating right now.."

"Haechan just can't admit that I'd be an amazing date."

"Sure, I bet being with me will be the best date you've been on."

"Bet?" You raise a brow. "You're on."

"Oh no, please no." Mark mutters to himself as you and Haechan exit the car. He might've bit off more than he could chew, you guys making bets was never good, ever the competitive ones.

Yet, he can say as the night progresses, that he's pleasantly surprised with you two's behavior. Of course, he's paying most attention to his date, but if he didn't notice then she definitely didn't.

You two are the most convincing fake couple ever, minus you two actually hating each others guts. Mark assumes its all fueled by competition, trying to butter the other up to get them to admit they'd be a good date. From the way Haechan pulled out your chair, to the way you diligently complimented his food choices, inflating his already huge ego.

And as weird as it feels, Mark has to admit he likes to see his two closest friends even getting along, but he really can’t complain.

“You two are adorable.” His date points out, and it’s the first time you’ve really looked at her tonight. Her eyes meet yours and something in her lights up. “Wait, I know you!”

You agree, though you can’t remember from where.

Unfortunately, she fills in the blanks for you. “You kissed Lee Jeno at that party a few weeks ago!“

Silence looms over the table as you can only hear the chattering of patrons around you.

You remember now, she must’ve been one the party goers at the recent frat party Jeno dragged you to. No one else wanted to go with him so he grabbed you off your couch on a Saturday and made you party with him.

It had ended in the two of you drunkenly making out on the frats couch, to which you had promised to never say a word about again.

"Oh yeah?" Haechan speaks up, shooting you a glare as he grits his teeth. "That's funny considering I mentioned we've been together for years."

Mark wants to die.

You laugh nervously, as the girl beside you two widens her eyes. "It was during our um.. break!"

Nice save, Mark thinks but then Haechan speaks up. "I don't remember us having a break."

The smile falls off of your face. "We broke up for during that one weekend, remember?"

"Oh my gosh, I must have the wrong girl. It probably wasn't you, no worries." Mark's date speaks as she tries to ease the tension.

"No need to lie." Haechan replies, raising his brows. Then he just shrugs, going back to his food. "I did a lot of things while we were on break too."

Mark wants to die, again.

Also, when the hell had you kissed Jeno? Like for real, that had actually happened?

You just quietly go back to your food, noting how the other couple's face's are hot red, Mark likely too scared to say anything. At least Haechan didn't rat you two out, though you're sure Mark's date knows now.

The rest of the date goes on pretty silently, save for small chatter from around you and the occasional comment from Mark.

You and Haechan exit the restaurant first, hoping Mark would gain the courage to ask his date on a second one, seeing as it seemed they got along pretty well despite the incident.

As soon as you're out of ear-shot, Haechan turns to you while crossing his arms. "You're the worst fake partner ever!"

"Me?" You ask, pointing into his chest. "I had the situation handled, and here you come with the 'we weren't on break!' Like would it have killed you to just agree?!"

"Whatever, I don't care." He responds, turning away from you.

Though you notice he seems bothered. "Jeno and I were drunk, if you're upset at him not telling you. it's not a big deal, I barely even remember."

"Why would I be upset?" He mocks.

"I don't know? You seem bothered!"

"Maybe I am."

You throw your hands up. "Well, why are you mad?"

He smirks at seeing you riled up. “I’m not mad, I just think you can choose better people to kiss.”

"Really, yeah?" You ridicule. "Like who? You?"

"Yeah." He says, nonchalantly. "Bet I'm a better kisser than him anyways."

"You bet?" You smirk.

"I bet, now wanna find out?"

[gadriezmannsgirl]

It's Our Thing - P.G

Hope you like it, guys! It's a bit long but it's really cute.

Please, remember English it's not my first language! So, sorry if there's any misspell

When you first met Gavi, it wasn't in the best of terms. Your best friend, Andrea, was and still is a huge fan of the Barcelona team, meanwhile you, you did knew a bit of your rookies, about football and stuffs because of your two older brothers, you learned to like the game and understand every single thing of it. You just never really went all in into it and never really looked for a favorite team, to cheer on and suport.

So, when she announced herself at your parents, saying she got you a number 6 Gavi jersey and showed you a pair of tickets for Barcelona vs. Cádiz, in LaLiga, you didn't complain.

You didn't complain about the tickets but you left in her hands the Barcelona jersey, sitting once more in the couch, in your previous position.

"C'mon, Y/N/N" She whined "This is the cute guy I was talking you about. I truly think you'd like him"

"And why would I like him if he doesn't know me?"

"C'mon, don't be that way. Just because Louis Tomlinson had a kid without you doesn't mean, you can't have it with Ga-OUCH!"

"That fucking hurt, you know?" You said pointing a finger at her after throwing her one of the cushions next to you

"Sorry" She sat down next to you "He's our age and he even shares the same birthday date as you"

"That's nice to hear. A lot of people was, is and will be born in August 5th, you know?" You said going back to your phone "I accept the invitation, I'll never turn down a good match but I won't be using anyone's name on my back but mine. So... Unless you've a Y/LN jersey, I'm going in normal clothes"

She sighed throwing her head back "Fine" She agreeded "But we are so cheering for Barcelona"

And that was it.

The day of the match came in and you girls were at Camp Nou, looking for your seats. Andrea had gotten the best seats, nearly close the pitch, being separated only by the bench and the guards, from where you girls where you could hear everything the players, directors and coaches could yell at perfection.

It was great.

After a little while, a selling guy passed and you bought some mango juice while your friend had a Coca-Cola and asked for a few snacks to have while the game was on.

Right now, the players were warming up for the match

"Is it possible for someone to look so good as Eric García is looking?" You laughed while taking your drink to your lips to have a sip of it

"You're crazy for that man, aren't you?"

"¡CUIDADO!"

Someone in the pitch, had yelled out, before you felt a strong hit at your jaw and hand, causing the drink you were having to spill all over you and the straw go up to your nose

"¡Maldición!" You yelled out while your friend quickly hurried up and gave you some napkins for your bleeding nose

"¡Ay díos mío!" You could hear people gasping and being worried about you.

The blood wasn't going easy

"Somebody help, please" Your friend yelled panicked

"Put your head up!" You heard someone in the back say and you did what you were told

"Oye, lo siento muchísimo" You heard a male voice say but couldn't quite recognize the owner of the voice

"Let's take her to the dressing rooms and have her checked out"

You, along with the help of your friend where scorted to the dressing rooms, even tho, you didn't feel anything besides the straw still on your nose even tho it wasn't there anymore and the hardcore pain, you didn't even know how were you walking around the insides of the Camp Nou

"Here" You heard someone say and Andrea made you sit down. And the doctor started to check your nose and do his job.

Some minutes later, you don't know how many, the players came in. The blood had stopped and you had a napkin on top of your nose

"How's she?"

"She'll be fine" The doctor said and explained a few things, for you, for your friend and for the guys who were worried.

"I'm so sorry" A brunette with big brown eyes said instantly "I was the one who hit you"

"Nice kick, bud" That's all you said before groaning a bit

"I'm truly sorry. I'm Pablo Gavi" You stared at his hand for a bit before handing him yours

"Y/N Y/L/N" You said simply.

"How can I make it up to you?"

"Practice at home your shoot" You said making the entire team laugh a little

"No. I mean, really, how can I make it up to you? I feel so bad" You shake your head a bit before hissing

"Just win. And that'll be it" You said trying to pull out the bloody napkin out of your nose "Can we go and see the game?" You asked lightly

"Of course" He said quickly nodding "Do you maybe want to watch it with the rest of the players in the bench?"

And that was the start of how Pablo got into your life.

The cheeky bastard, knowing your name, searched your Insta and slided into your DM's, soon developing a friendship and after a three months of friendship, he asked you out on a date.

August, 5 came in; and Pablo didn't quite knew that it was also your birthday, so when he invited you at his house to celebrate with his teammates and some of his friends of La Masía and his family; you asked if your best friend could come with you. Of course he said yes and off you went.

You didn't wanted to make a big thing for your birthday, you've already celebrated it with your friends at Uni, your fam did a little cake for you and they already (Even with your protest) gave you some presents.

"THE BIRHTDAY GIRL IS HERE ALREADY!" Your best friend shouted when you came into view and you quickly shushed her up

"Birthday girl?" Pedri asked

"No" "Yes"

You both looked at each other "It's Y/N's birthday"

"Lies"

"Is it your birthday?" Pablo asked in surprise

You sighed and nodded "It is"

"Why didn't you tell me that?! THIS IS AMAZING!" He said hugging you and giving you a cute kiss on your lips "¡Feliz cumpleaños, mi amor!"

And the wave of congratulations started to sorround you. Belén, Pablo's mother even went ahead and bought another cake just for you. And when the candles were blew out, Pablo turned to give you a kiss on your cheek and hug you tightly

"August 5th is our thing now, love"

Years passed by, six to be exact when he got down on one knee and proposed to you. On August 5th.

And now, two years later, already married and with two newborn babies. Natalia Alexia and Nicolás Martín Páez Y/L/N.

"They are so beautiful" Pablo said while having Natalia in his arms while you had Nicolás "She looks just like you"

"And he, like you" You replied "I never imagined falling in love with a football player, y'know?" You laughed "Andrea from the beggining told me that she thought you were fit for me. And you are" You giggled

Pablo with a smile on his face, walking over to you and leaning over to kiss your lips sweetly.

"And you are. You are fit for me, just like how I am fit for you" You smiled at him and kissed him once more "You look beautiful, señora Gavira" You laughed

"I look like I just gave birth to twins"

"Extremely sexy, may I add"

You shaked your head smiling and when you turned your head to watch the hour, it hit you.

04:29am

"Cariño" You said with a smile on. August, 5th "Happy birthday"

Pablo smiled looking at the clock as well "Happy birthday to you too, mi reina" He kissed you once more "Te amo"

Three hours ago you had given birth. On August, 5th.

"I love you too" You both smiled at each other before, Natalia moved in Pablo's arms making him look down at her "You know..." Pablo lifted his head from our baby girl "August, 5th is really our thing"

Pablo smiled and nodded "It really is our thing"

°°° °°° °°° °°°

@gaviypedrisbride

[cleabellanov]

💙 hi and welcome to my ted talk about the latest episodes of what if, please read through (3) 💙

First of all. Why is season 2 so...happy?

I'm not complaining. Marvel has enough sad stories for a lifetime, but I found that, instead of exploring demises, we're now seeing victories. Old villains find their insight and become heroes (Hela, Nebula, Gamora) and lives are influenced for the better, earlier on (Peter Quill, Bucky, Hope).

It might be nothing.

But I think it's something.

You know what season 2 of what if comes right after? Season 2 of Loki. And, as you'll see at the end of this post, their colors are making themselves known.

Could it be that, from his throne, Loki got sick of watching sad stories and seeing worlds die? There is a chance, I don't know how plausible, but there is, that he's influencing all that we saw this season. A little hope here, a little time there, and, using their free will, everyone gets a second chance.

That, or Uatu felt bad for us and wanted to gift us in honor of New Year being in 1-2 days. Do tell me if you have additions on that.

If I had to bet on something, it would be the overall fan reaction to the opening scene. I screamed, yes. Did they expect us to see Loki's name there in the subtitles and be totally chill about it?

"To be or not to be, that is the question"

I can totally see Tom having this idea for the opening scene: just Loki reciting Hamlet, and altough to his brother's bordedom, acting from Shakespeare. And it was the best idea he could have.

It's a missable detail, but Thor mentions Mjölnir! And you know how? As a gift...for Loki!

He responds to that with "I...have misplaced it" which is, yeah, typical, but how do you just lose Mjölnir, Loki? The idea, however, is that he'd be able to lift it, which I would have loooved to see on screen. But this was fun to have too.

And the response to Captain Carter's "You're a bigger drama queen than your brother" (talking to Thor)?? 😭

"Blessed"

Can we also point out how insane it is that after just being stripped from her home in an unknown world, Peggy still wanted to help?

She not only has a hero's soul, she is that brave as to turn down The Watcher's warnings and offers to take her back safe. And remember, not everyone can hear Uatu as he narrates. But she can, sometimes.

"What if, what if, what if. I have to try."

"Not on my watch"

This ambition of hers, is, of course, given by her humanity too. But that's not only a bad thing. The Watcher's all knowing, his experience of seeing worlds die everyday, has made him unsensible (from our point of view). That's not the case for Peggy.

Amidst all her adventures, however, perhaps she's also searching to avenge the love she lost, searching for her happy ending. In the movie Endgame, I have to admit she felt optional, like Steve wasn't meant to be there with her. But not now.

I wish The Watcher told her she has a happy ending somewhere.

I don't know about you, but this episode...is my favourite ever from the series. It used to be the Strange Supreme one, but that's on the second place of the podium now.

We got to see queen Hela, drama prince/ actor Loki, king Thor. Bucky, NOT the Winter Soldier, and Steve, finally on the same page! Scarlet Witch!! Using her powers for good, not corrupted. All of them in cool costumes too. If things like these were on live action, I'd lose my f- mind, if I haven't already. :))

And now the green. The "rifts" that are tearing this world apart are very familiar in color.

And this is not the only thing that's turning green, when it used to be multi-colored. The prism, too, the one from which The Watcher watches and narrates. And I'm not talking about the Time Stone. I'm talking about the tree of life, and how it might actually have a serious impact over everything. I mean, does Uatu know anything? And what was that decorated Yggradsil in the trailer, before the holidays?

Nevertheless, I think it's related in some way, and if it's not, don't blame me. I really like green.

That being said, thanks for reading <3

[chemical-killjoy]

Hai!

Can you do Roommates AU with Gerard and Female!Reader?

OK so this is suuuuuper fluffy and kind of got away from me... anyway, let me know if you want a more *intimate* and fluffy part 2

Pancake Prince

“Uuuuuugh,” you grumbled, leaving the safety of your bedroom and flopping face down on the lounge in the living room to your apartment. It was a hot night, and you were in your favourite pyjama shorts and singlet, but that was the great thing about sharing an apartment with your bestie: you could do what you want, wear what you want... Even if it was pyjamas at 4 in the afternoon.

Gerard laughed, pausing the TV.

“What's up, sugar? Rough night?” Gerard asked with a smirk.

“Nugh-uh,” you agreed into the fabric of the seat. You sat up.

“I remember it all,” you said, in a dramatic voice, sweeping your arms out wide. “Actually, come to think of it, I can't remember past Daisy dropping me off outside our building.”

Gerard laughed. “Yeah, figures. Care for a refresher?”

“Do I really wanna know?”

“Good question,” Gerard said with a devilish smirk. “Let's see. You called me, forgot we were on the phone, complained about not being able to find a way inside our own fuckin' house, and then I had to hauled you inside after you passed out.” Gerard left off the part about helping you change into your pyjamas, tucking you in, and making sure you were OK until he fell asleep himself. He didn't want to creep you out or anything.

“Of course I did.” You said, face-palming. “Well, thank you, my hero.”

“Prince.” Gerard replied seriously, without missing a beat.

“What?”

“I prefer prince, actually.”

“Wha- Why? What are you the prince of Gee?” You indulged him, cackling at the unexpected joke.

“Pancakes,” He replied, face and tone serious, humour displayed only in his eyes.

“And why is that?”

“Step into my office!” Gerard declared, dramatically strutting to the kitchen.

You hummed as you smelt the pancakes and freshly cut fruit the second you walked into the kitchen.

“Damn, you're not the prince, you're the king!” You said, squeezing Gerard in a quick hug and grabbing a plate.

“Yeah but Pancake King doesn't have the same ring, does it?” Gerard asked.

“True, true. So what's the occasion?” You asked.

“Well, I thought you might need a pick-me-up after yesterday,” Gerard spoke gently, rubbing the back of his neck.

And then you remembered why you went out drinking last night.

“Aah, fuck me!” You whined, and flopped to the kitchen floor. Yesterday was a spectacular level of shit, in which you lost both your job and found out the guy you'd been hoping to ask out (finally gaining the courage after a few months) was, in fact, taken.

“Well, at least let me take you to dinner first!” Gerard said, joining you on the floor.

“I mean, at this point, I'd be happy to just slut it out. Like, show interest in me and fine. I'm just sick of this shit. Maybe I'm just unlovable? I'm like...” you looked around. “I'm like that tissue over there. Beside the bin. I couldn't even make it to the bin.”

Gerard knew you too well to let you succumb to your own stupid, dramatic sad spiral.

“Baby, please, you're more than the tissue. You're the whole bin!” You gasped and slapped his arm, both of you laughing. You couldn't help but blush a little at the nickname.

“C'mon, you know you're too good for him anyway. And who needs a guy when you have me? And pancakes?” Gerard pointed up at the pancakes. “And jobs are just conforming to the man. We don't endorse that.”

You smirked at your best friend. “I mean you're right. I may be desperate for touch and affection but who needs a boyfriend when I have you? A boyfriend without the perks?”

“I am the perks, I made pancakes!” Gerard gasped, hand on chest in fake shock.

“Yeah, you're pretty perky.”

“Fuck you, you know I'm prickly, you're the one who's perky.” Gerard's eyes went to your chest and back up, teasing in more ways than one.

“Don't bring your prick or my tits into this, Pancake Prince.”

“That's King Pancake to you.”

“What does that make me?”

Gerard snorted before he could get his own joke out.

“What?!” you demanded, all smiles as you playfully slapped his arm again.

“Hungry!” Gerard declared, falling over laughing. You continued your gentle assault on his arm as he playfully fought back, until the two of you were side by side on the floor, stomachs sore with laughter. When you caught your breath, you looked over at your friend and smiled.

“I am pretty hungry, actually.” you said, with a soft smile.

“Mmm?” Gerard asked. “Hungry, or thirsty?” he said with a wink.

“Little of both,” you said with a shrug, leaning into Gerard... Then putting your hand on his chest and pushing yourself to your feet. You offered Gerard your hand to help him up, but once you were both up, he didn't let go of your hand.

“What?” you asked, head tilted to the side.

“You really don't remember any of last night, huh?” Gerard said, softly, the playful glint in his eyes turning a little... anxious?

You furrowed your brows. “No, why? Did I do something? I'm really sorry if I did.”

When Gerard didn't say anything, you spoke again.

“Gee, what happened?”

“Look, I don't wanna make you uncomfortable with this, but you kind of said something that maybe made it sound a little bit like you possibly-”

“Fuck, just tell me!” You interrupted.

But Gerard continued as though you hadn't, “-love me. As more than a friend.”

You stared at him blankly. He stared at you, hand still in yours.

“I didn't want to freak you out so I was gonna tell you over pancakes, cause I know my best friend's favourite breakfast. I dunno, I'm sorry, maybe I heard wrong or you were just drunk or something, but I thought lately about how we've both been super flirty and I kinda thought that maybe...” Gerard trailed off, looking at you.

“I wasn't just drunk.” You said, tucking your hair behind your ear. “I, um. I realised I've been pushing aside my feelings for you, I guess I must've just babbled it out.”

“You did seem pretty adamant for a girl who was struggling to take your shoes off.”

You snorted at that and a thought crossed your head. “Did you dress me in my jammies?”

“That's what's most important to you right now?”

“I don't know, I just think it was just super sweet of you. We both know I would've destroyed that dress if I tried to sleep in it.” You thought of the skin tight faux-leather and how it'd tear, or strangle you in your sleep... not fun.

“You know I feel the same, right?” Gerard said, pulling you a little closer and disrupting your thoughts. “I don't make just anyone pancakes, y'know.”

You scrunched up your nose. “We're those idiots, aren't we?”

You and Gerard would spend many nights, coming home from work half-dead, and become immovable couch potatoes, eating Chinese take-away and watching cheesy movies. And of those movies, half were horror (Gerard's pick) and half were rom-coms (your pick). You were always screaming at the TV about how the characters should just know they're in love with each other and talk it out. Gerard always agreed with you but was too busy watching you get invested to really see what was happening in the movie.

Gerard just nodded.

“Oh, fuck that,” you said, pulling Gerard toward you and kissing him. Gerard pulled you closer then rested his forehead against yours.

“Y/N... I have something to tell you...” Gerard looked deeply into your eyes. “If we're gonna do this...,” he turned his head, and you felt anxiety grow in your stomach. “You're gonna need to brush your teeth.”

“Get fucked!” You screeched as Gerard laughed. “Fine, fine! But you have to decorate some pancakes for me while I do, OK, King Pancake?”

Gerard bowed deeply, waving a hand. “As you wish, my queen.” Then he kissed you on the forehead and pushed you towards the bathroom. You smiled as you brushed your teeth, excited for this new beginning.

Taglist: @fandomfoodiedancer @niche-bitch @fedorable-killjoys @smiling-girl

[nightqueen1221]

hello so I know there is a 0% chance you’ll write this (bc no body cares ab me) but can I please have killua calling reader clingy in a argument and then it hurts her and then he comforts her (ignore if you would like lol)

Understand people will care for you once you start to care for yourself. Don't put others ahead of you.

-You honestly don't remember why you two were arguing.

-However you were to stubborn to give up your opinion.

-Killua, needless to say, was losing and started using personal attacks against you since he didn't have a very strong point.

-It became more of him insulting you rather than a discussion that you two disagreed on.

-"You know, maybe we wouldn't be arguing if you weren't so clingy. Don't you understand how annoying it is, to have you complain how much you want my attention? Why can't you just leave me alonr like everybody else?"

-You were heartbroken at that comment. Clingy? Sure, but you thought he said he loved you clingy side. He craved your attention.

-A few more words were spoken after that, you barely said anything have that comment. Killua didn't even notice.

-You said you needed sometime by yourself, and left into your bedroom.

-You locked yourself in and then proceeded to sit in the bed, pulling your knees up to your chest.

-I sat there thinking 'why would he say that? Did he seriously mean it or was it just in the heat of the moment?"

-About 15 minutes of this, you hear a knock in the door. You open it up to see Killua with a gulitly look.

-"Uh, Y/N I'm sorry about earlier. I...didn't mean it, any of it. I really just don't want you to be sad anymore."

-He looked up at you again and opened hia arms. "Could I... Get a hug?"

-You nod wrapping your arms around his body.

-You two just sit in comfortable silence in one another's embrace.

[misc-obeyme]

I had all these plans to finish a bunch of writing and then BAM Season 2 started with Lesson 21 and I got supremely distracted. I wasn't expecting it to come out so soon?!? I really thought there would be more time in between seasons. But I am not complaining!

At this point, I feel weird if I don't write a post about the lesson, so here I am. I swear I'll get back to writing fics after this lol.

Spoilers and screenshots below:

Okay so we've got the founding of RAD, MC and Solomon losing their magic, and characters acting weird.

The loss of MC's magic is pretty obvious and easy to understand. Like it works sometimes, but it doesn't at other times. (Though I have to say here that if the brothers asked me to open a jar with magic, I would laugh at them. I've never met a jar I couldn't open. It's called hot water. BUT ANYWAY) And obviously when they do use their magic, it's not as strong as it used to be. Solomon says he's having the same issue. He obviously notices it when he banishes the hellfire salamander, though if you ask him about it, he just says it's nothing. Which is funny because then he tells you all about his problem with it later when you're making dinner. I swear I lose my mind every time they use that clown music in the story.

Anyway, the most interesting part of this to me was when Solomon said these things:

At first I was like, is that what's happening? They're making it so that MC can't go back? Isn't that what we are all dreading?!

But then if you say you don't think you'll do it in time he says this:

Okay?? So should I be concerned or not?! I don't want to get stuck in the past, I want them to bring us back to the present or maybe merge the timelines or something?! I dunno, but I really can't figure out how they're going to wrap this up in a way that works. Unless they do what happened last time MC went to the past and erase everyone's memories. Which was something Michael did...

But overall, this situation seems pretty cut and dry. Gotta get those pacts, yo.

Mammon, on the other hand...

He seems to be going through something, huh? The thing is I can't figure out what it is. Something is definitely up, but what? Also it kinda seems like Simeon might be involved in this somehow?

MC is hurt. Mammon wants them to pay for the ointment that will heal them. Simeon shows up and just does it himself.

MC finds the coin and gives it to Simeon. Mammon takes it for himself and Simeon's just like yeah okay that's fine.

Then in the HARD LESSON (SPOILERS) Simeon actually blesses Mammon with good luck before he goes out to look for the lost coin. Not to mention their whole conversation about the Celestial Realm and the hot cocoa... (END SPOILERS)

And MC is aware that Mammon is not acting normally. But Simeon seems to be his usual self? I'm just wondering if whatever is going on with Mammon, Simeon might be the one to help him somehow? It kinda seemed to me like Mammon was being more greedy than usual, like something going on with his sin?

But MC isn't the only one who's noticed something is up with Mammon.

May I present: Lucifer, Avatar of Ellipses -

...

What is going on with this guy? I mean, okay, not all of these were about Mammon, but I'm pretty sure most of them were.

Anyway, Lucifer does this thing where it's obvious he's thinking about something or he's worried about something, but he just doesn't say anything about it. It drives me crazy. I'm like listen here MC is right there! Talk to them!

Okay that's all I really had to say about the lesson and story stuff, but there are a few other things that I just loved.

SIMEON oh my gosh the way he swoops in and heals MC I was like yes, please heal me forever thank you.

His precious look of concern...

... and then this confident smile!? I just love him.

Also going grocery shopping with Lucifer and Beel in 21-A was just so sweet and domestic?! Neither of them could remember what any of their brothers wanted, they would have been totally useless without MC there rattling everything off. It was adorable, but also just soft times with Lucifer are always my favorite thing.

Yeah. Concerned about how you can bottle all your feelings and still be so hot.

Anyway!

Wherever they're going with this magic weakening thing better not result in MC stuck in the past forever. But I do hope we're getting some Mammon story now because I love him, too.

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

It was mentioned several times that vestige AFO had some card up his sleeve that he hasn't used yet. And the fact that Shigaraki still could use AFO meant that the vestige was still there, too. Thinking he wouldn't appear again as a way for Tomura to confront his grooming by AFO and the fact that AFO is the one who created his villain persona and with AFOFA plotline and his relationship with Yoichi being unresolved is more stupid than him returning. Also, can people please start using their eyes and actually read because Horikoshi literally confirmed that Tomura is still inside and screaming in AFO's head 😭

Like I said previously, it's not that it doesn't make sense or that it is bad writing (putting that in bold just for you, anon), it's that I feel it's repetitive.

You need to differentiate between analysis of the story and personal opinions, meaning you need to use your eyes and read what people writes and not assume their intentions.

Every story is only what the writer wants that story to be. The way Horikoshi solves his story only follows the rule of what he wants to tell through it. It doesn't mean that the story had only one way of being told— that's what fanfiction and original fiction exist, to tell a story with the same or different characters in a new way.

Writers are just writers and people can like or dislike their art for multiple reasons. Even the big names through history were subjected to sooo much debated it's funny to remember. A shonen writer is not the exception sjdjjdndjdj

I don't like being rude if I can avoid it. It's just that asks like this made me angry. You could have told me that you don't agree with me and mention all you said in the asks. You could have said that you don't think I'm interpreting things correctly, but don't come at me with passive aggressive asks.

Or at least don't use the anon feature, coward.

Finally, it doesn't annoy me when people come to me in order to understand better the manga or to get my opinion on something. Even when they're wrong and I can point out why, I don't think the right way is to send asks crying about "guys don't you have eyes omg". Don't speak through my blog if you can't make your own posts.

It really didn't cost you anything to be polite.

Btw, for other people to understand what made me mad about this posts:

This anon (let's call them Anon #1) is calling a previous anon (Anon #2) stupid for not liking a bnha plot point.

The problem is that I asked for the personal opinions of the bnha fans. I never said

"I want a literary analysis to determine if that plot point fits the narrative of the story, if it had been addressed in previous instances through the foreshadow and what do you think about bnha fans who ignore those instances".

Personal opinions can be anything. You can decide you don't like something based on vibes alone and it's fine! I'm not asking you to be the most rational person alive, just to tell me how you feel about something.

Here's the posts I'm talking about.

I even mentioned that my opinion about this very subject is biased. It doesn't make sense to be passive aggressive to me to prove a point that I've already admitted too, you know?

Here's the ask of Anon #2.

Anon #2 was never rude to a real person, just called a plot point in a fictional story "bad". I'm the first to admit that AFO coming back makes sense for the story and that it is not bad, that I disagree with Anon #2 about it.

I clearly stated all those things at the end of my ask to Anon #2.

I don't like when people use their knowledge about something fictional to feel superior to others. I don't like when people have something to say and they know it's rude, so they say it hiding behind the anon feature, sending an ask to someone else's blog instead of making their own post about it.

Maybe Anon #1 never meant to offend me, but does it make it better if it was directed towards Anon #2 and not me?

Complaining about people not being able to comprehend what they read is ironic when Anon #1 didn't read correctly my answer to Anon #2 in the first place.

My answer to this asks is just about how every fan of an art piece is entitled to think whatever they want, be them right or not. If you're gonna disrespect them, be responsible and don't hide behind others like some sort of bully.

The worst part is that Anon #1 has great points that totally went to waste because they wanted to be an asshole soooo bad.

This is how it's done. I'm saying to Anon #1 what I think about them directly, I take all responsibility for my words and I'm not afraid to acknowledge what I've said.

Is the situation clear now?