#anyway this is as close as i've gotten so far | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

therealbeachfox · 3 months

Text

Twenty years ago, February 15th, 2004, I got married for the first time.

It was twenty years earlier than I ever expected to.

To celebrate/comemorate the date, I'm sitting down to write out everything I remember as I remember it. No checking all the pictures I took or all the times I've written about this before. I'm not going to turn to my husband (of twenty years, how the f'ing hell) to remember a detail for me.

This is not a 100% accurate recounting of that first wild weekend in San Francisco. But it -is- a 100% accurate recounting of how I remember it today, twenty years after the fact.

Join me below, if you would.

2004 was an election year, and much like conservatives are whipping up anti-trans hysteria and anti-trans bills and propositions to drive out the vote today, in 2004 it was all anti-gay stuff. Specifically, preventing the evil scourge of same-sex marriage from destroying everything good and decent in the world.

Enter Gavin Newstrom. At the time, he was the newly elected mayor of San Francisco. Despite living next door to the city all my life, I hadn’t even heard of the man until Valentines Day 2004 when he announced that gay marriage was legal in San Francisco and started marrying people at city hall.

It was a political stunt. It was very obviously a political stunt. That shit was illegal, after all. But it was a very sweet political stunt. I still remember the front page photo of two ancient women hugging each other forehead to forehead and crying happy tears.

But it was only going to last for as long as it took for the California legal system to come in and make them knock it off.

The next day, we’re on the phone with an acquaintance, and she casually mentions that she’s surprised the two of us aren’t up at San Francisco getting married with everyone else.

“Everyone else?” Goes I, “I thought they would’ve shut that down already?”

“Oh no!” goes she, “The courts aren’t open until Tuesday. Presidents Day on Monday and all. They’re doing them all weekend long!”

We didn’t know because social media wasn’t a thing yet. I only knew as much about it as I’d read on CNN, and most of the blogs I was following were more focused on what bullshit President George W Bush was up to that day.

"Well shit", me and my man go, "do you wanna?" I mean, it’s a political stunt, it wont really mean anything, but we’re not going to get another chance like this for at least 20 years. Why not?

The next day, Sunday, we get up early. We drive north to the southern-most BART station. We load onto Bay Area Rapid Transit, and rattle back and forth all the way to the San Francisco City Hall stop.

We had slightly miscalculated.

Apparently, demand for marriages was far outstripping the staff they had on hand to process them. Who knew. Everyone who’d gotten turned away Saturday had been given tickets with times to show up Sunday to get their marriages done. My babe and I, we could either wait to see if there was a space that opened up, or come back the next day, Monday.

“Isn’t City Hall closed on Monday?” I asked. “It’s a holiday”

“Oh sure,” they reply, “but people are allowed to volunteer their time to come in and work on stuff anyways. And we have a lot of people who want to volunteer their time to have the marriage licensing offices open tomorrow.”

“Oh cool,” we go, “Backup.”

“Make sure you’re here if you do,” they say, “because the California Supreme Court is back in session Tuesday, and will be reviewing the motion that got filed to shut us down.”

And all this shit is super not-legal, so they’ll totally be shutting us down goes unsaid.

00000

We don’t get in Saturday. We wind up hanging out most of the day, though.

It’s… incredible. I can say, without hyperbole, that I have never experienced so much concentrated joy and happiness and celebration of others’ joy and happiness in all my life before or since. My face literally ached from grinning. Every other minute, a new couple was coming out of City Hall, waving their paperwork to the crowd and cheering and leaping and skipping. Two glorious Latina women in full Mariachi band outfits came out, one in the arms of another. A pair of Jewish boys with their families and Rabbi. One couple managed to get a Just Married convertible arranged complete with tin-cans tied to the bumper to drive off in. More than once I was giving some rice to throw at whoever was coming out next.

At some point in the mid-afternoon, there was a sudden wave of extra cheering from the several hundred of us gathered at the steps, even though no one was coming out. There was a group going up the steps to head inside, with some generic black-haired shiny guy at the front. My not-yet-husband nudged me, “That’s Newsom.” He said, because he knew I was hopeless about matching names and people.

Ooooooh, I go. That explains it. Then I joined in the cheers. He waved and ducked inside.

So dusk is starting to fall. It’s February, so it’s only six or so, but it’s getting dark.

“Should we just try getting in line for tomorrow -now-?” we ask.

“Yeah, I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.” One of the volunteers tells us. “We’re not allowed to have people hang out overnight like this unless there are facilities for them and security. We’d need Porta-Poties for a thousand people and police patrols and the whole lot, and no one had time to get all that organized. Your best bet is to get home, sleep, and then catch the first BART train up at 5am and keep your fingers crossed.

Monday is the last day to do this, after all.

00000

So we go home. We crash out early. We wake up at 4:00. We drive an hour to hit the BART station. We get the first train up. We arrive at City Hall at 6:30AM.

The line stretches around the entirety of San Francisco City Hall. You could toss a can of Coke from the end of the line to the people who’re up to be first through the doors and not have to worry about cracking it open after.

“Uh.” We go. “What the fuck is -this-?”

So.

Remember why they weren’t going to be able to have people hang out overnight?

Turns out, enough SF cops were willing to volunteer unpaid time to do patrols to cover security. And some anonymous person delivered over a dozen Porta-Poties that’d gotten dropped off around 8 the night before.

It’s 6:30 am, there are almost a thousand people in front of us in line to get this literal once in a lifetime marriage, the last chance we expect to have for at least 15 more years (it was 2004, gay rights were getting shoved back on every front. It was not looking good. We were just happy we lived in California were we at least weren’t likely to loose job protections any time soon.).

Then it starts to rain.

We had not dressed for rain.

00000

Here is how the next six hours go.

We’re in line. Once the doors open at 7am, it will creep forward at a slow crawl. It’s around 7 when someone shows up with garbage bags for everyone. Cut holes for the head and arms and you’ve got a makeshift raincoat! So you’ve got hundreds of gays and lesbians decked out in the nicest shit they could get on short notice wearing trashbags over it.

Everyone is so happy.

Everyone is so nervous/scared/frantic that we wont be able to get through the doors before they close for the day.

People online start making delivery orders.

Coffee and bagels are ordered in bulk and delivered to City Hall for whoever needs it. We get pizza. We get roses. Random people come by who just want to give hugs to people in line because they’re just so happy for us. The tour busses make detours to go past the lines. Chinese tourists lean out with their cameras and shout GOOD LUCK while car horns honk.

A single sad man holding a Bible tries to talk people out of doing this, tells us all we’re sinning and to please don’t. He gives up after an hour. A nun replaces him with a small sign about how this is against God’s will. She leaves after it disintegrates in the rain.

The day before, when it was sunny, there had been a lot of protestors. Including a large Muslim group with their signs about how “Not even DOGS do such things!” Which… Yes they do.

A lot of snide words are said (by me) about how the fact that we’re willing to come out in the rain to do this while they’re not willing to come out in the rain to protest it proves who actually gives an actual shit about the topic.

Time passes. I measure it based on which side of City Hall we’re on. The doors face East. We start on Northside. Coffee and trashbags are delivered when we’re on the North Side. Pizza first starts showing up when we’re on Westside, which is also where I see Bible Man and Nun. Roses are delivered on Southside. And so forth.

00000

We have Line Neighbors.

Ahead of us are a gay couple a decade or two older than us. They’ve been together for eight years. The older one is a school teacher. He has his coat collar up and turns away from any news cameras that come near while we reposition ourselves between the lenses and him. He’s worried about the parents of one of his students seeing him on the news and getting him fired. The younger one will step away to get interviewed on his own later on. They drove down for the weekend once they heard what was going on. They’d started around the same time we did, coming from the Northeast, and are parked in a nearby garage.

The most perky energetic joyful woman I’ve ever met shows up right after we turned the corner to Southside to tackle the younger of the two into a hug. She’s their local friend who’d just gotten their message about what they’re doing and she will NOT be missing this. She is -so- happy for them. Her friends cry on her shoulders at her unconditional joy.

Behind us are a lesbian couple who’d been up in San Francisco to celebrate their 12th anniversary together. “We met here Valentines Day weekend! We live down in San Diego, now, but we like to come up for the weekend because it’s our first love city.”

“Then they announced -this-,” the other one says, “and we can’t leave until we get married. I called work Sunday and told them I calling in sick until Wednesday.”

“I told them why,” her partner says, “I don’t care if they want to give me trouble for it. This is worth it. Fuck them.”

My husband-to-be and I look at each other. We’ve been together for not even two years at this point. Less than two years. Is it right for us to be here? We’re potentially taking a spot from another couple that’d been together longer, who needed it more, who deserved it more.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Says the 40-something gay couple in front of us.

“This is as much for you as it is for us!” says the lesbian couple who’ve been together for over a decade behind us.

“You kids are too cute together,” says the gay couple’s friend. “you -have- to. Someday -you’re- going to be the old gay couple that’s been together for years and years, and you deserve to have been married by then.”

We stay in line.

It’s while we’re on the Southside of City Hall, just about to turn the corner to Eastside at long last that we pick up our own companions. A white woman who reminds me an awful lot of my aunt with a four year old black boy riding on her shoulders. “Can we say we’re with you? His uncles are already inside and they’re not letting anyone in who isn’t with a couple right there.” “Of course!” we say.

The kid is so very confused about what all the big deal is, but there’s free pizza and the busses keep driving by and honking, so he’s having a great time.

We pass by a statue of Lincoln with ‘Marriage for All!’ and "Gay Rights are Human Rights!" flags tucked in the crooks of his arms and hanging off his hat.

It’s about noon, noon-thirty when we finally make it through the doors and out of the rain.

They’ve promised that anyone who’s inside when the doors shut will get married. We made it. We’re safe.

We still have a -long- way to go.

00000

They’re trying to fit as many people into City Hall as possible. Partially to get people out of the rain, mostly to get as many people indoors as possible. The line now stretches down into the basement and up side stairs and through hallways I’m not entirely sure the public should ever be given access to. We crawl along slowly but surely.

It’s after we’ve gone through the low-ceiling basement hallways past offices and storage and back up another set of staircases and are going through a back hallway of low-ranked functionary offices that someone comes along handing out the paperwork. “It’s an hour or so until you hit the office, but take the time to fill these out so you don’t have to do it there!”

We spend our time filling out the paperwork against walls, against backs, on stone floors, on books.

We enter one of the public areas, filled with displays and photos of City Hall Demonstrations of years past.

I take pictures of the big black and white photo of the Abraham Lincoln statue holding banners and signs against segregation and for civil rights.

The four year old boy we helped get inside runs past us around this time, chased by a blond haired girl about his own age, both perused by an exhausted looking teenager helplessly begging them to stop running.

Everyone is wet and exhausted and vibrating with anticipation and the building-wide aura of happiness that infuses everything.

The line goes into the marriage office. A dozen people are at the desk, shoulder to shoulder, far more than it was built to have working it at once.

A Sister of Perpetual Indulgence is directing people to city officials the moment they open up. She’s done up in her nun getup with all her makeup on and her beard is fluffed and be-glittered and on point. “Oh, I was here yesterday getting married myself, but today I’m acting as your guide. Number 4 sweeties, and -Congradulatiooooons!-“

The guy behind the counter has been there since six. It’s now 1:30. He’s still giddy with joy. He counts our money. He takes our paperwork, reviews it, stamps it, sends off the parts he needs to, and hands the rest back to us. “Alright, go to the Rotunda, they’ll direct you to someone who’ll do the ceremony. Then, if you want the certificate, they’ll direct you to -that- line.” “Can’t you just mail it to us?” “Normally, yeah, but the moment the courts shut us down, we’re not going to be allowed to.”

We take our paperwork and join the line to the Rotunda.

If you’ve seen James Bond: A View to a Kill, you’ve seen the San Francisco City Hall Rotunda. There are literally a dozen spots set up along the balconies that overlook the open area where marriage officials and witnesses are gathered and are just processing people through as fast as they can.

That’s for the people who didn’t bring their own wedding officials.

There’s a Catholic-adjacent couple there who seem to have brought their entire families -and- the priest on the main steps. They’re doing the whole damn thing. There’s at least one more Rabbi at work, I can’t remember what else. Just that there was a -lot-.

We get directed to the second story, northside. The San Francisco City Treasurer is one of our two witnesses. Our marriage officient is some other elected official I cannot remember for the life of me (and I'm only writing down what I can actively remember, so I can't turn to my husband next to me and ask, but he'll have remembered because that's what he does.)

I have a wilting lily flower tucked into my shirt pocket. My pants have water stains up to the knees. My hair is still wet from the rain, I am blubbering, and I can’t get the ring on my husband’s finger. The picture is a treat, I tell you.

There really isn’t a word for the mix of emotions I had at that time. Complete disbelief that this was reality and was happening. Relief that we’d made it. Awe at how many dozens of people had personally cheered for us along the way and the hundreds to thousands who’d cheered for us generally.

Then we're married.

Then we get in line to get our license.

It’s another hour. This time, the line goes through the higher stories. Then snakes around and goes past the doorway to the mayor’s office.

Mayor Newsom is not in today. And will be having trouble getting into his office on Tuesday because of the absolute barricade of letters and flowers and folded up notes and stuffed animals and City Hall maps with black marked “THANK YOU!”s that have been piled up against it.

We make it to the marriage records office.

I take a picture of my now husband standing in front of a case of the marriage records for 1902-1912. Numerous kids are curled up in corners sleeping. My own memory is spotty. I just know we got the papers, and then we’re done with lines. We get out, we head to the front entrance, and we walk out onto the City Hall steps.

It's almost 3PM.

00000

There are cheers, there’s rice thrown at us, there are hundreds of people celebrating us with unconditional love and joy and I had never before felt the goodness that exists in humanity to such an extent. It’s no longer raining, just a light sprinkle, but there are still no protestors. There’s barely even any news vans.

We make our way through the gauntlet, we get hands shaked, people with signs reading ”Congratulations!” jump up and down for us. We hit the sidewalks, and we begin to limp our way back to the BART station.

I’m at the BART station, we’re waiting for our train back south, and I’m sitting on the ground leaning against a pillar and in danger of falling asleep when a nondescript young man stops in front of me and shuffles his feet nervously. “Hey. I just- I saw you guys, down at City Hall, and I just… I’m so happy for you. I’m so proud of what you could do. I’m- I’m just really glad, glad you could get to do this.”

He shakes my hand, clasps it with both of his and shakes it. I thank him and he smiles and then hurries away as fast as he can without running.

Our train arrives and the trip south passes in a semilucid blur.

We get back to our car and climb in.

It’s 4:30 and we are starving.

There’s a Carls Jr near the station that we stop off at and have our first official meal as a married couple. We sit by the window and watch people walking past and pick out others who are returning from San Francisco. We're all easy to pick out, what with the combination of giddiness and water damage.

We get home about 6-7. We take the dog out for a good long walk after being left alone for two days in a row. We shower. We bundle ourselves up. We bury ourselves in blankets and curl up and just sort of sit adrift in the surrealness of what we’d just done.

We wake up the next day, Tuesday, to read that the California State Supreme Court has rejected the petition to shut down the San Francisco weddings because the paperwork had a misplaced comma that made the meaning of one phrase unclear.

The State Supreme Court would proceed to play similar bureaucratic tricks to drag the process out for nearly a full month before they have nothing left and finally shut down Mayor Newsom’s marriages.

My parents had been out of state at the time at a convention. They were flying into SFO about the same moment we were walking out of City Hall. I apologized to them later for not waiting and my mom all but shook me by the shoulders. “No! No one knew that they’d go on for so long! You did what you needed to do! I’ll just be there for the next one!”

00000

It was just a piece of paper. Legally, it didn’t even hold any weight thirty days later. My philosophy at the time was “marriage really isn’t that important, aside from the legal benefits. It’s just confirming what you already have.”

But maybe it’s just societal weight, or ingrained culture, or something, but it was different after. The way I described it at the time, and I’ve never really come up with a better metaphor is, “It’s like we were both holding onto each other in the middle of the ocean in the middle of a storm. We were keeping each other above water, we were each other’s support. But then we got this piece of paper. And it was like the ground rose up to meet our feet. We were still in an ocean, still in the middle of a storm, but there was a solid foundation beneath our feet. We still supported each other, but there was this other thing that was also keeping our heads above the water.

It was different. It was better. It made things more solid and real.

I am forever grateful for all the forces and all the people who came together to make it possible. It’s been twenty years and we’re still together and still married.

We did a domestic partnership a year later to get the legal paperwork. We’d done a private ceremony with proper rings (not just ones grabbed out of the husband’s collection hours before) before then. And in 2008, we did a legal marriage again.

Rushed. In a hurry. Because there was Proposition 13 to be voted on which would make them all illegal again if it passed.

It did, but we were already married at that point, and they couldn’t negate it that time.

Another few years after that, the Supreme Court finally threw up their hands and said "Fine! It's been legal in places and nothing's caught on fire or been devoured by locusts. It's legal everywhere. Shut up about it!"

And that was that.

00000

When I was in highschool, in the late 90s, I didn’t expect to see legal gay marriage until I was in my 50s. I just couldn’t see how the American public as it was would ever be okay with it.

I never expected to be getting married within five years. I never expected it to be legal nationwide before I’d barely started by 30s. I never thought I’d be in my 40s and it’d be such a non-issue that the conservative rabble rousers would’ve had to move onto other wedge issues altogether.

I never thought that I could introduce another man as my husband and absolutely no one involved would so much as blink.

I never thought I’d live in this world.

And it’s twenty years later today. I wonder how our line buddies are doing. Those babies who were running around the wide open rooms playing tag will have graduated college by now. The kids whose parents the one line-buddy was worried would see him are probably married too now. Some of them to others of the same gender.

I don’t have some greater message to make with all this. Other then, culture can shift suddenly in ways you can’t predict. For good or ill. Mainly this is just me remembering the craziest fucking 36 hours of my life twenty years after the fact and sharing them with all of you.

The future we’re resigned to doesn’t have to be the one we live in. Society can shift faster than you think. The unimaginable of twenty years ago is the baseline reality of today.

And always remember that the people who want to get married will show up by the thousands in rain that none of those who’re against it will brave.

#gay marriage #gay rights #gay history #gay

18K notes · View notes

pellucid-constellations · 5 months

Text

Only in Dreams

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: In his dreams, Azriel recounts how he got to his mate.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Some angst, mentions of injuries

a/n: Hi this is my first acotar fic idk what I'm doing. I've been reading them for years so here's a little one for fun <3 I know it's different from my usual but inspiration is a finicky creature :) Also, italics denote flashbacks.

There was very little Azriel wouldn’t do for his mate.

He had learned that early on.

In those early days, when the bond had made itself known to only him, there was so much confusion and strife within the shadowsinger. He had known you for decades, admired you from afar, and befriended you under self-made pretenses. You were a light, a healer, too good and sweet to be anything to him other than a friend, a coworker.

But you were also his mate.

The air had been knocked from his lungs at the realization.

“Is everything okay?” you had asked, sweet confusion bunching at your brows.

And Azriel couldn’t answer, not for several long beats.

“Az, what’s wrong? You look like Cassian after he took that weird herb Majda wanted me to test.”

Another bout of silence, this time accompanied by soft, warm hands along his cheeks. You leaned in, the sweet scent knocking him out of his stupor. As he jerked back, you only followed, blinking in surprise.

“Azriel—”

“I apologize,” he finally—weakly—stammered out. “I was talking with Rhys.”

“You were talking with Rhys?”

It hadn’t sounded much like a question, but Azriel nodded anyways, enraptured by you and your closeness. He needed to get away, to leave. You were too close. He was too weak.

But then you giggled, and the sound was so melodic and saccharine that he found himself breathless again. He could get lost in that sound. If he was being honest with himself, he had gotten lost in that sound plenty of times before. But now… now. Gods, now you were his mate.

As you laughed some more, teasing retorts echoing in the air, Azriel knew you had no idea.

And, as Azriel had learned, that was fine. You didn’t need to know. Because he knew, and that was enough.

Enough for the overwhelming devotion he felt for you to finally have substance. To finally be validated.

You were his—everything sweet and good was his to protect. And, gods, did he want to protect you.

You made that very difficult in the weeks after the bond had snapped for him. His instincts were in overdrive, taking note of your every move and praying to the cauldron that you were careful when he was sent on missions and you stayed back in Velaris. He had nothing to worry about when that was the case. The inner circle loved you almost as much as he did.

But then Rhys decided you were needed.

With an unreciprocated mating bond and a mate that cared so little for her own self-preservation, that had been Azriel’s worst nightmare.

“Reconsider.”

“There is nothing to reconsider, Azriel. We need a healer in Windhaven to show them that the clipping won’t be seen to fruition. And y/n just so happens to be our court healer,” Rhys carefully explained for the third time.

“Send Majda.”

Rhys held the bridge of his nose. “There is a reason y/n took over her post. Madja is far too old to be making those kinds of trips.”

“Send anyone else,” Azriel rasped, a tightness to his words.

“No. She is the best. It will only be for a few weeks and Cassian—”

“Rhysand.”

Rhys paused at the desperation laced within his brother’s tone. He removed the fingers attempting to abate the ache along his temple and observed Azriel’s clenched fists and restless shadows. Rhys’s lips parted in shock, his eyes blinking in quick succession. Something clicked within his gaze.

“Is she…”

The muscle in Azriel’s jaw quivered. “Just don’t send her there. Please.”

Rhys raised a hand to run down his jaw. “My gods, Azriel. This is…this is—does she know?”

“No,” he replied, quick and low.

“I understand what you’re feeling, but I can’t stop her. You know that, brother.”

And, unfortunately, Azriel knew that.

When you set your mind to something—when you knew you were going to help people—that was it. There would be nothing keeping you from helping those in need. Especially the Illyrian women. Azriel was pretty sure you kept a dartboard somewhere in the house with Lord Devlon’s face on it.

He loved that about you, truly he did. But it also made you reckless.

There were plenty of instances where you burned yourself out from healing. You would come home swaying on your feet or be so depleted you couldn’t even winnow correctly. He could count on two hands the amount of times you passed out at the dinner table after work. When he thought about you doing that in Windhaven… Azriel couldn’t even stomach the thought.

“Then order her,” Azriel gritted out. He could hear you coming. You and Cassian, bags packed, chatting down the hall about something insignificant.

Why couldn’t he come, again?

Right, because he would “stir up the camp” or whatever obtuse reason Rhys had given him.

“You know that won’t go over well,” Rhys countered.

“Neither will the entirety of Windhaven if she gets hurt.”

Azriel’s threat fell on deaf ears as you came bounding into the room, bright and determined and smiling at him as if you weren’t leaving.

“Here to see us off, Az?”

That trip to Windhaven had been awful—for Azriel and for you. Rhys’s “ordering” hadn’t been effective, and neither had Cassian’s ability to pick up on context clues. As you stood, baffled at Rhys’s sudden change in plans, Cassian didn’t so much as look at Azriel’s subtle vies for assistance. Because Cassian had been just as baffled as you were.

So, you went to Windhaven.

And then you came home hurt.

Not terribly, just a few cuts and a black eye that rivaled his own from the last time he trained with the Valkyries.

Cassian explained that there had been a fight unrelated to you, but you had gotten caught up in it. He suspected it was a ploy to get hands on you, but Azriel had stopped listening to him the second you landed on the balcony with stitches on your forehead. The moment he saw your hands bandaged and your eye purple and blue.

You had laughed about your inability to fight, knocking an injured hand into Cassian’s side as he jested that it was time for you to get into the training ring with him. Later, Azriel would agree with that sentiment. In that moment, however, unparalleled fear had coursed through his veins. Rhys was the only one ready for it.

Cassian’s back slammed into the far wall of the house, wings splaying out against stone. Azriel’s shadows were gone as he held his brother against the wall, abandoning him in favor of wrapping around your wounds.

Azriel thought he heard you scream.

“You said you would protect her!” he seethed, pushing his forearm against Cassian’s throat, blue siphon blazing atop his hand.

“Azriel, stop!” Your call went unheard. Rhys stood ground in front of you, arm jutting out when you tried to get around him.

Cassian pushed back against him, face twisted in confusion. “I did. I pulled her from that fight as soon as I could, Az. You think—” his words cut off with another shove from his brother “—you think I would have let anything happen to her on purpose?”

Azriel growled, low and dangerous. “All I think is that my mate came back looking like that when you swore to take care of her. You swore.”

The room went silent, stagnant. Even the shadows halted their appraisal of you as you held onto Rhys’s arm. Cassian stopped fighting. Somewhere down the hall, the rushed footsteps of some other member of the family abruptly stopped.

“She’s your mate?”

“Azriel—” Your whisper was lost in the lingering chaos of the room.

The time after was a blur for Azriel. He knew he left the balcony, retreating to his room hastily after sending you a longing, apologetic glance. He knew you called after him, that you were breathless and shaking and Rhys kept holding you back… telling you to give him some time to cool off.

He didn’t need time. He needed you, and Azriel had been positive that would never happen now.

Half of his shadows joined him in his room, engulfing him as he sat on his bed with his head in his hands. The other half stayed with you, still worried about the pain that you had endured. It was a miracle you hadn’t sent them away. They would have listened to you if you had. They would always listen to you.

When the door creaked, his shadows covered him even more, encasing his fear and worry and embarrassment into a shell that kept him safe.

He was a fool.

“Azriel?”

He had to be imagining the sweet trill of your voice. There was no way you had come for him, not after all of that. But soon, your shoes slinked into the mess of shadows between his legs, and a bandaged hand gently guided his chin up.

When he met your eyes, his shadows circled faster. His wings fell lower and lower against the bed, giving himself up to your gaze.

“Azriel,” you repeated, music within the swish of dark air. “Care to explain, shadowsinger?”

The bruises on your face made his stomach turn. He went to look away, to escape this physical and mental turmoil, but you only locked your wrists and kept him there.

It took him a moment, but he finally relented.

“You are my mate,” he spoke, gravely and unsure—even though that was the one thing Azriel was sure of above all else. “You are my mate and you are hurt. I am sorry for my actions… if I scared you or—”

“I wasn’t asking about the display of male violence on the balcony.” Your teasing smile made some of his shadows rest.

It also made hope swell within the deepest parts of Azriel’s wearied chest.

You didn’t look forlorn at his offhanded declaration, nor did you look repulsed. You just looked like… you. You looked at him as you always had, and maybe that meant something.

Maybe that was something for Azriel to hold onto.

“How long have you known?” you asked, when he spent a moment too long admiring the upturn of your mouth.

Azriel blinked, moving his eyes back to your own. “A while.”

“And you weren’t going to tell me?” You didn’t sound accusatory, or even angry as he was sure Feyre had all those years ago. You only sounded sad. That made it worse.

“I wanted to tell you,” Azriel stressed, leaning forward on the bed to capture your legs between his. “I wanted to, I just—y/n, I just…”

There was no solid explanation. You didn’t rush him as he stumbled over his words—you were patient, as you always were. You were patient and Azriel was a coward.

Determination set a line in his brow.

“I was a coward,” he affirmed. “I didn’t want to push you away… to make you feel unsure or pressured. You are… you are everything. You have been everything to me for many years now. If I had ruined that—if I had pushed something upon you that you did not want—”

“Has it occurred to you, Azriel, that I would very much like to be your mate?”

Azriel paused his spiel, licking his drying lips as he searched your eyes for the lie.

“Only when I dream.”

You had kissed him after that, all bruised and scratched and broken, and Azriel found himself dreaming.

As he stared at you across the sitting room, surrounded by your raucous, disruptive family, Azriel dreamed again. The glow of the fire lit up the side of your face as you laughed, sending warmth up the long-accepted mating bond, and he dreamed of you in every iteration of his life.

And he would do anything to keep that dream alive.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #azriel

2K notes · View notes

hannieehaee · 6 months

Text

NO SONG WITHOUT YOU

18+ / mdi

summary: with zero experience or interest in the romantic aspect of his life, jihoon finds himself in an unexpected situation when his company decides on a collab between the two of you, not expecting the work-addicted producer to develop a bit of a crush on you.

content: idol!jihoon x idol!reader, afab reader, pining, jihoon's emotionally constipated, jihoon's pov, kinda inexperienced jihoon, smut, dry humping, oral (m receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 12.6k

a/n: this is probably my fave fic i've written so far!! love writing for jihoon aaaa anyways i hope u guys enjoy <3

masterlist

Jihoon was tired.

Beyond tired, actually. He couldn't remember the last time he'd left his studio at a reasonable time. He knew people on twitter made jokes about him being a bit of a hermit, with fans being able to spot his studio from outside the building, lights always on and indicating the producer was still inside.

He didn't have much of a valid excuse for this, other than being a 'workaholic', or at least that's the term Joshua had recently introduced him to, describing him as the prime example. Jihoon just couldn't help himself. He'd been like this ever since he could remember. If he had an idea, he had to work on it. And unfortunately for him, he was always full of new ideas. If Seventeen was releasing an album, that meant Jihoon already had enough material to fill up the next three albums backed up in a file somewhere in his computer.

Despite always having music prepared months in advance, - even having solo music up for grabs for whichever member desired it - he still found himself constantly working. It's not like anyone demanded this out of him either. It was quite the opposite, actually. From staff, to other producers, to members and even family, everyone always insisted that he took a break, maybe leave producing aside for a month or two. This was inconceivable to him, it was something that was simply out of his comfort zone.

The truth was, Jihoon felt lost. Any time he strayed away from work in some way or other, he didn't know what to do with himself. He felt like a failure in many other aspects of his life. Granted, he was a successful idol and producer, talented in every area necessary in his field, but past that, what did he really have to offer? He'd been stuck in a rut for a few years now. He had his members, his family, maybe some staff, but his social life didn't go much past that. He didn't have many hobbies outside of work either. Sure, he was avid when exercising, even being an overachiever in that area, but that was also kind of part of his job. He knew he needed to step out of his comfort zone at some point and live his life, but he kept making excuses for himself. He was 26 now, and was, quite frankly, beginning to lose hope in certain areas of his life due to his career, - although blaming his career was just an excuse, really - the romantic aspect of his life being one of them.

Jihoon had some experience, okay? It wasn't like he'd never liked a girl before. He'd had a few crushes in elementary, maybe even some up until high school. He'd kissed one of the female trainees back when Pledis was a smaller company (okay, it might've been on a dare, but to Jihoon it counted). A few years after debuting he'd even gone on a few dates with a former staff member from his company. He'd lost his virginity to that same girl, kind of rushing into it due to feeling pressured to just get it over with - something he didn't exactly regret, but wished had been more of a memorable moment. The point was, Jihoon had had a few romantic experiences in his past 26 years on this earth. But, he hadn't ever even gotten close to find that one great love he'd hoped he one day would. For someone who received constant accolades for his lyricism, he was never really able to relate to his own music. He'd never been heartbroken, never had an insane need for someone, never felt romantic love, never been in the throes of passion with a beautiful girl, even. It was all his imagination. His lyrics, that is. And maybe the rest, if he was being honest. He'd dreamt about it lately; the perfect girl who he'd find and sweep off her feet. But that was all it was, a dream.

So, Jihoon was tired. Tired of hauling himself up in his studio to make himself feel something. But that was where he now found himself; stuck and in a rut, hoping for something more.

He was once again in his studio, working on god knows what at this point. He had just finished a quick welive with carats, feeling like he'd accomplished his quota of socialization for the day (I mean, even if it was a one-way conversation, it still counted, right?) and decided to get to work on one of the many unfinished drafts in his hard drive. This was kind of routine by now. He would either get a quick meal with one of the members during their break from rehearsals, or would go back to his studio for a bit to work on music. This would've been fine and dandy if it wasn't for the fact that Jihoon would eventually have ended up right back at his stuido either way. It was the illusion of choice, truly.

He spent a few hours in there, messing around with his guitar and even working on some guides for the members to follow next time they had some time to stop by the Universe Factory. Today felt like a productive day for Jihoon. Granted, he did this literally every single day, but he hadn't felt stuck at any point today. Maybe he was on a lucky streak. He decided to cut the day short there, not wanting to ruin what had been arguably an uninterrupted day of working on music. However, his separation from his studio did not last long, as he received a call from his manager just as he was locking the door behind him. He picked up without much thought.

"What's up?"

"Hey? Jihoon-ah, are you still in the studio by any chance?", Jihoon almost vocalized his amusement at the question. Where else would he be?

"I was just locking up, but yeah, I'm here."

"Good! Stay right there! Gonna head up to talk to you for a bit," and with that he hung up, not leaving Jihoon any chance to respond.

Jihoon and his manager were quite close. This was the case with most idols and their managers, having to spend so much time together. Still, Jihoon found the interaction to be a bit odd. Usually his manager would be one of the many people to insist that Jihoon get his ass out of his studio every once in a while. He didn't mind his request, though, so he quickly reopened the door and sat himself back down on his chair, deciding to mess with a few things as he waited for his manager's arrival.

It took his manager about ten minutes to arrive, Hybe was quite a big building, after all. He knocked on his door, not knowing the access code to Jihoon's studio. The only people who knew his key code were Jihoon himself, and Soonyoung (who had learned it without Jihoon's knowledge, but he was too lazy to change it by now). He got up to open the door, simply expecting another one of his manager's short overviews of Jihoon's schedule for the week, which might've been correct, except that when he opened the door he was met with his manager accompanied by an unfamiliar face.

It was you. Jihoon didn't know exactly who you were, but you carried a familiar air to you. He hadn't really been interacting with many people as of late, so maybe you were just someone he'd seen in passing, he wasn't too sure. You and his manager walked in upon Jihoon's gesture to please come in, moving aside as to not be in your way. He closed the door behind you, accidentally closing the distance between the two of you for a second and becoming a bit flustered at the proximity. He wasn't sure why his manager would bring someone unknown into his studio, but if Jihoon was anything, he was a relaxed guy (or at least he tried to seem like it), so he just sat back down without making any questions, his manager would probably fill him in any moment now anyways.

"Okay, so this is Y/N! You've probably met before, right?"

Uh, not right. And now a little awkward. Was he supposed to lie?

"Oh! No, we haven't, actually. I know a few of his members, though, but this is our first time officially meeting," you spoke up for the first time. So you were friends with his members? That might be how he knew you. That didn't really narrow it down much, though. There were 12 of them, and Seungkwan alone was friends with practically the entire industry.

"Oh? My bad. Well, then I should introduce you, right? Jihoon, this is Y/N! Her group was just recently acquired by Hybe. They moved into the building just over a month ago, if I'm not mistaken," He turned to you as you nodded in affirmation before proceeding, "Y/N, this is Jihoon, producer and partial leader of Seventeen."

He wasn't too sure why he was introducing the two of you. If he got personally introduced to every group Hybe acquired in the past year, he'd probably be here all day. He'd stopped keeping track of who and which groups were now roaming the hallways, being too many for him to count. He wasn't complaining or anything, he was just confused as to why go out of his way.

"Woozi-nim. It's so nice to meet you! I've always been such a huge fan. Your work is .. it's insane. I've looked forward to meeting you for so long," the enthusiasm with which you said this made his lip quirk up a little. Sure, he received accolades on his work every day, but knowing that fellow juniors of his looked up to him always brought a smile to his face, although it still made him a little sheepish at receiving such a forward compliment.

"Oh, I- Thank you. And you can call me Jihoon. It's nice to meet you, too," he smiled shyly at you, not really knowing what to say past that. He felt a bit shy looking at you for some reason, as if he couldn't hold eye contact for too long or he'd burn.

He looked expectantly over at his manager, the instigator of this interaction.

"Oh! Right. Well, as I just said, Y/N's group just moved into the company. And the company's been pushing for some collaborations as of late, you know, in order to maximize all groups within Hybe all at once," Jihoon could kind of see where his manager was going with this, "So, I've brought Y/N along with me since you two will be working together for a feature."

Hold on. Rewind.

"Us? As in just us two?"

"Yeah. Hybe is dividing you guys into subdivisions. Mingyu will be collaborating with someone in BTS a few months from now, and Chan will be with Yeonjun from TXT. I think Seokmin is scheduled with a member of Lesserafim. Not too sure yet, but you're up first. I sent you an email about it a few days ago with the general idea. Did you not get it?"

Oh, right. Jihoon was always quite diligent about his work, but his work mostly entailed Seventeen only. Checking his email wasn't much of a habit of his when he could just call up the few producers that worked for Seventeen whenever he needed to. Collaborations and producer work for other people were not that common to him, so for the most part he would disregard anything that didn't entail his own group.

"Oh, I, uh. No, sorry," he felt slightly bad at having disregarded the person standing in front of him, specially when you had regarded him such such respect. He was giving off a terrible first impression.

"That's fine. Now you know. Well, just wanted to take advantage that you were here today - Hah, well, when aren't you here?", chuckled his manager before continuing, "Just wanted to introduce you just in case. Check the email I sent you when you can, I'll send you over more details of your schedule related to the feature first thing tomorrow, yeah? Y/N here is the main producer for her group too, so you'll be co-producing."

You produced? He didn't mean to sound like an asshole, but there were just so many groups who didn't make their own music. He could sometimes get a bit of an ego over knowing he was an anomaly in his industry, always having taken pivotal part in a good 90% of his group's discography. Still, he wasn't too happy about the concept of having to share the creative process with a producer he had never heard of, if he was quite honest. For the most part he would only work with Bumzu and a few other Hybe producers here and there. He didn't even know your group or the music you were credited for. Hell, he had only found out about this project two minutes ago, having had no voice in the matter. One of the down sides of joining such a huge company that fathered way too many groups at once, he guessed.

He decided to not show his slight discomfort towards the idea, simply offering a polite response before bidding his goodbyes to the two of you. You had stayed behind for a few extra seconds after his manager exited the room, once more voicing your admiration for Jihoon and letting him know you were looking forward to working together. Jihoon had to admit that your praise did something to him. He didn't mean to sound like a total loser when he said this, but he did not interact with girls too much. So receiving such direct praise on his music from a pretty girl who also happened to share a passion with him had his ears turning red. He quickly shook his head at the thought, deciding to just stay at the studio overnight once more and maybe finally go over the email his manager had sent him.

He had to admit, he was quite impressed. Shortly after your arrival he had decided to research you and your group. You were quite well known by then, having debuted the same year as Seventeen and now being one of the top girl groups in the game. Just like Jihoon, you were from a small company and had climbed your way up, eventually being acquired by Hybe just a few months prior. Your stories were quite similar, if he really thought about it. You had also taught yourself how to produce before debuting, taking on the official role of main producer upon making your debut.

He had found out an embarrassing amount of information about you very quickly. He couldn't help himself. He was immediately intrigued by you, even going as far as looking at online forums about you; places that would detail information about you that only a true fanatic would know. He was now privy to trivial information such as your birth year (one year after his), your favorite color (pink), how many moles you had (seven, total), when you joined your company (exactly two months before he joined pledis), your most popular fancam (the one were you wore that pretty purple top), and just general information he'd be embarrassed to relay he now had memorized. He could call himself a bit ... infatuated. He felt beyond creepy, despite all this being public information. He had just met you, why had he just spent the past three hours binging content about you?

Jihoon decided to shrug these thoughts away, instead opting to mentally prepare himself for tomorrow morning, which was apparently the first day in which you'd be meeting to talk over your future schedules together for the next month or so. He had finally checked the multiple emails his manager had sent him about the collaboration, realizing that he'd now have to spend most of his non-Seventeen allocated time with you.

From photoshoots for promo, to the actual producing of the song, the empty slots in his schedules seemed to have filled up on their own, now being occupied by your company, and much to his surprise, he was not annoyed at this sudden intrusion. He felt a weird feeling in his stomach, but it wasn't like the usual nerves he felt before going on an important stage, nor the grumbling he felt whenever he met an idol of his. He felt ... giddy? He was looking forward to it. He felt nervous to see you again, which was really strange considering that he felt completely normal upon meeting you just now. Yeah, you were very pretty (he had eyes, this was just a fact he couldn't deny), but he hadn't had much of a reaction to it. However, now, as he looked at pictures of you on his computer, he couldn't imagine holding eye contact again. He was going mad.

Tomorrow arrived sooner than he thought. Now he was now sitting in his studio, awaiting your arrival. He had impulsively tidied up the place, now embarrassed that you'd seen it a mess the day prior. He also tidied himself up. As he recalled, you were wearing a pretty dress yesterday, so he felt bad you'd caught him in sweats and a three-day-old shirt. He wasn't sure why he wanted to impress you, but he did. Jihoon had the hope of at least befriending you, now having formed some type of interest towards you.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door, making his heart accelerate at the thought of who was on the other side of it. Upon unlocking it, he found you on the other side, smile on your face as you carried in some bowls of .. his favorite meal? into his studio.

"Hi, Woozi-nim! I brought you food, is that's okay? I asked Seungkwan what you liked," oh, so it was Kwannie you were friends with. That made sense. It was touching that you'd gone out of your way to get him something you knew he'd like. Now he felt bad at being empty handed in his own studio.

"Oh, I- Thank you. You didn't have to do that."

"It's no problem! Wanted to thank you for doing this. I know you don't do collaborations that often. Felt kinda bad about imposing," by now the two of you had sat down in front of his desk, chairs slightly too close for comfort as you unwrapped the food in the bags you'd brought in.

"You-you're not. Sorry if I made it seem that way yesterday, hah, I was just caught off guard."

Jesus Christ, he felt so awkward. Your close proximity had him at a loss. He didn't know where to look or what to say. Your perfume was also not helping matters. The pretty scent had him extremely distracted, his mind suddenly being flooded with the thought that, shit, everything about you was pretty. What was wrong with him? Was this his first time interacting with a woman? He had never felt more out of place, except that despite any improper feelings he felt, he still wanted to be in your vicinity.

"-Woozi-nim?"

Shit, had you been talking this whole time?

"Oh, I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

You chuckled at him, clearly not taking offense to his distracted nature, "I was just asking if you had any drafts you wanted to use as a baseline? Or we could use one of my unused drafts? It's whatever you prefer, really. I'd love to work with something of yours, though. I love your style, it's so ... hah, I don't know. It's just so you."

Jihoon thanked god he had not cut his hair as some carats had begged, because now the length allowed him to cover the red of his ears. A single compliment from you had him heating up, clammy hands getting even clammier at the thought of you using his talent as a compliment. If you wanted to use his music, there was just no way for him to deny you. He wanted to hear more of your praise to him.

"Y-yeah? I have uh, a few that I could show you. They're just drafts, but you know."

You visibly perked up at this, scooting even closer to him as he began to fiddle with his computer, opening up some files to show you. Your excitement at his work had him swooning internally. The amount of interest you'd been showing since meeting yesterday was already getting the better of him.

"Woozi-nim, holy shit. These are hundreds of files. Are these all unfinished?"

"Uh, yeah. I uh, tend to have a few drafts saved for future projects."

"I get that. Me too, but these have to be over 300 unfinished songs," you were in clear shock (perhaps admiration?) of the endless tracks in front of you. Jihoon wasn't sure if he should feel ashamed at having so much unfinished work (which made bit feel like a bit of a loser), or be proud since you seemed to be impressed at the vast number.

"I like to be prepared. You know, just in case."

"It's .. wow. I knew you were good, but this is insane, Woozi-nim."

"I, you can call me Jihoon," he didn't really care much for the distinction between Woozi and Jihoon at this point; he was pretty used to both. But a part of him just wanted to hear you call him by his real name; the one only those close to him really used. He also wanted an out from the conversation, feeling too flustered at your compliments.

You chuckled, nodding at him, "Okay, Jihoon. Sorry, didn't really know what name to go for at first."

"No, it-it's fine. I'm only a year older. You can speak comfortably."

The rest of the conversation was filled with technicalities about the collaboration. Now that you two had established a, let's say, closer acquaintance, you were able to discuss your ideas more comfortably. Jihoon still had to put up with the endless compliments about his work as you two went through possible tracks for the song, but he tried his best to take them like a champ, simply chuckling shyly and shrugging them off. Your genuine admiration for his skill had him reeling inside, enamored with the tone of your voice any time you'd express excitement at hearing exclusive Universe Factory content. He hadn't felt butterflies in his stomach like this in, well, ever. He felt like he was a high school student with a silly crush.

The disappointment in his face as you parted ways must've been clear (which made him embarrassed beyond belief), as you pulled out your phone and asked him to put his contact in, letting him know you'd be seeing him soon. The possession of your contact info made him excited. He knew it was probably just for work purposes, but he held a stupid hope in the back of his head that you'd given it to him because you had interest in meeting again soon.

And you did see each other soon, consistently meeting in order to work on the song. A few of the times you were joined by Bumzu (who was also helping out with the song), or Soonyoung (who was just a nosy bastard who wouldn't leave Jihoon's studio), which made him curse out his two friends, wanting you all to himself. His crush had developed quickly after that second meeting. You were now all he thought about. Every morning when he got ready to start his day, he wondered which shirt you'd like him best in. Would you like if he trimmed his hair or did you like it long? What did you like in guys? (Except had already gone on incognito mode on his phone to search your ideal type, growing instantly embarrassed and exiting out of the tab). He thought of you as he exercised, wondering if you'd like his muscles and physique. His entire existence was surrounded by thoughts of you. And he hoped maybe he was also in your mind.

The first time he saw you outside his studio walls was at the Hybe gym as he worked out with Mingyu, Soonyoung and Joshua. He almost lost hold on the dumbbells in his hands upon spotting you, tight leggings and cropped shirt adorning your body. He had seen you in less clothing before (Only ever through a screen, in all the pretty concept photos your group had done, or in the occasional fancam he'd come across), but seeing your silhouette in the flesh had all thoughts leaving his mind. He felt ashamed at his way of thinking. He didn't want to objectify you like that, but the thoughts of your beauty had not left his mind for two weeks now, since the day he first met you.

But his eyes couldn't be helped, glued to your form as you walked into the place, paying extra attention to the parts that stood out most for him. He was like a depraved monster, his breath getting ragged as he watched you move around, licking his lips and sighing at every small movement you made. God, what was happening to him? Why was he so immediately aroused? Luckily, his thoughts were quickly interrupted by a cough from a very annoying Kim Mingyu, who had just been spotting him before his abrupt stop.

"Hyung .. You're too obvious."

"Wha-what are you talking about?", he did not like the smirk attached to Mingyu's face, nor the matching mocking smile in Soonyoung and Joshua's.

"You should see him when she's sitting in his studio. It's sad to watch," snickered the fellow 96-liner.

"Oh? She's the girl? Damn, hyung. She's really pretty."

"It's not- there's no girl. We're just working together," his feelings were already complicated enough, he didn't need the involvement of his members' teasing.

"C'mon, Hyung! It's okay if you like her. She's pretty, she's an idol-producer. She's perfect for you. I think you should go for it," encouraged Mingyu, in his optimistic Mingyu-fashion.

"Yeah, I mean. You were just about to cum in your pants at just seeing her in some leggings. I don't think you have anything to lose if you're already at the point of public indecency."

Yeah, this was exactly why he wanted to keep them as far away as possible.

"Soonyoung, I swear to g-"

"Jihoon? Oh my god, hi! I didn't realize you were here," it was you, now at a closer proximity and a slight sheen of sweat attached to your skin. Had Jihoon not been snapped out of his trance earlier, he probably would've been salivating by now.

"Oh. Hi Y/N. How are you?", he felt like he was being scrutinized for his every word and move by his members, which made him feel extremely awkward (more than usual).

"Good! I didn't know you used the company gym. I'd never seen you here before. You should've told me. We could've come together," you smiled before turning to his friends, "Hi! I'm Y/N, it's nice to meet you!"

Soonyoung made a show of stretching his hand out to you, bowing way too low for such a casual setting (probably just to peeve Jihoon). He was followed by Joshua, who held onto your hand in a way that had Jihoon fuming to himself.

"Hello, Y/N. I think we might've met before. You're Kwannie's friend, right?"

"Oh, right! Yeah, I've been to your guys' practice room before, but Jihoon didn't recognize me when we first met, so I wanted to re-introduce myself just in case," you giggled in Jihoon's direction.

"Don't mind him. That's just Jihoon. He's too distracted for his own good. I'm Kim Mingyu, by the way," the youngest shot you a flirtatious smile.

He needed all of them to keep the flirting as toned down as humanly possible. Although jealousy was not an emotion he felt often, the thought of his best friends even looking at you had his ears turning red in anger. But in very expected fashion, they all continued to take turns flirting with you for the next twenty minutes, completely shrugging off any intention of working out they might've had before having spotted you. Luckily (and surprisingly) for him, you were not reciprocating the flirting, nor where your eyes ever off of Jihoon for too long, always including him in your responses to his members one way or another.

You were somehow immune to the charms of Kwon Soonyoung, which, yeah, Jihoon didn't blame you for. You were also unaffected by Jisoo, which was a little more rare from Jihoon's experience. What shocked him most, though, was that your eyes still stayed on him even while one Kim Mingyu blatantly flirted with you. He'd known one too many girls who had fallen victim to his flirting (whether it be intentional or not), and to see you fully shrug him off in favor of looking to Jihoon instead had his heart going at an inhuman speed.

The interaction ended not too much time later, leaving Jihoon's ears red, but now from embarrassment at his friends slyly suggesting his interest at you multiple times throughout the conversation. Despite them being subtle about it, he was still mortified, specially when by the end of it, they'd pushed him to walk you back to your practice room while they wandered off on their own.

"I'm so sorry about them. They can be a bit much."

"It's fine, Jihoon. Don't worry about it. They were really fun. I can see how you're all so close."

"Ah, yeah. You know how it is .. Uh, sorry they kept hitting on you like that,"

he knew he was a bit of an idiot for bringing it up, but he wanted to gauge your feelings on it. He needed to know if he at least held a chance against his members or if you'd just been being nice by not reciprocating in front of him.

You chuckled as you responded, "I know they weren't being serious about it, Jihoon. Don't sweat it. It's not them I'm interested in anyways."

Oh, great. That was good to hear .. Wait. What?

"W-What?l"

"Oh. We're here. This is my group's practice room. Sorry I made you walk all the way here, I know your practice room is like five floors up," you apologized sheepishly, completely disregarding what you'd just said.

"I-it's fine. I'll see you on Thursday, then?"

"Thursday? We have a shoot tomorrow, Jihoon. Remember? We need a jacket shoot for the collab. It was on the schedule."

Oh, fuck. He had completely blanked on that. You guys were almost done recording the finishing touches to the song, but he forgot you guys also needed to do the shoot for the promo and learn the choreo as soon as you gave the choreographers the finalized version for the single. There was still so much to be done, which only meant even more time spent with you.

"Yeah, right. Sorry, hah, completely spaced out on that. I'll see you tomo-"

"Come pick me up?"

"Huh?"

"I mean, stop by my practice room so we can walk together? Is that okay?"

Did you- did you want to spend even more time with him? He wasn't complaining. He wanted all his time to be consumed by you, but .. was the feeling mutual?

"Yes," he paused, realizing his answer had been too short and mechanical, "I mean, yeah, sure, I don't mind. I'll see you here tomorrow morning."

You giggled at him before bidding your goodbye once more, but this time offering him a quick side hug before disappearing through the door to your practice room. Jihoon was glad you were gone, because this time it wasn't just his ears that were red, but his whole face had begun to resemble a tomato.

It was time to admit to himself that he was down bad tremendously for you.

Jihoon had not at any moment stopped to wonder what type of vibe the collaboration was meant to follow. Yeah, he was working on the song (which was almost finalized by now), so he knew it was pretty much a pop-rock-ish vibe that they were going for, but he didn't know what the rest of the equation would look like, which was something he wished he'd prepared a bit better for.

He had walked you over this morning, even being enticed by Seungkwan into bringing you your favorite drink as a nice gesture (which worked perfectly, as it won him over yet another side hug). The two of you arrived to the designated area for photoshoots located in one of the lower floors of the Hybe building, then went your separate ways to head over to hair and makeup in order to get your outfits situated. He had to admit he liked his outfit. It was a little more provocative than usual, with it being mostly black leather and the top being unbuttoned enough to show off most of his abdomen. It was your outfit, however, that had him reeling.

Nothing could have prepared him for the moment he stepped out and spotted you doing a few solo shots in preparation, your outfit and makeup already perfectly in place. He had no words to express how he felt upon seeing you. You looked so ... gorgeous. Unsure of how to react at the sight in front of him, he stood there staring, almost as if he'd seen an apparition. It wasn't until one of the photographers called him over that he managed to regain sense of self and join you.

The entirety of the photoshoot was absolute hell for Jihoon. This was the closest he'd ever been to you (sans the now two quick side hugs you'd given him in the past day). The shoot was a bit .. sensual in nature. The first set of outfits were edgier, so the shoot was the basic scenario you'd picture for a punk-rock pictorial. The second set of outfits had been the issue, because they went in the complete opposite direction. You were in a beaten down motel room setting, wearing very simple outfits, although they were both very skimpy and thin, almost as if to signify the simplicity of the concept. You two posed together on the bed, with your poses getting more and more intimate by the minute. At some point he had been directed to embrace you as he looked into your lips, with the proximity being way too close for comfort (or at least that's what he tried to tell himself). At another point he was kneeling on the bed as he looked up at you, your eyes simulating lust as you looked down on him, hand on his chin, lifting his gaze to yours.

The shoot had been an experience, to say the least. Jihoon wasn't sure how he survived it without breaking. He thanked the gods for the years of preparation with all types of shoots he'd done with the members over the years. However, completion of the shoot did not mean he was unaffected. He had no idea how he'd get the image of your lips so close to his out of his mind. Despite knowing it'd all been professional and strictly fake, he could've sworn he felt something every time your eyes would meet when at such a close distance. He wanted it to be real so badly, but once again he chalked it up to being wishful thinking. At least the worst of it was over, and he could now get back to sitting next to you in his studio at a respectable distance.

Jihoon had been an idiot to ever believe that the shoot had been the worst of it.

It had now been a week since the dreaded photoshoot (The one that had him up at night imagining what it would've been like if he had just closed the gap between your lips, damning anyone else in the room), and now it had been a few days since the song had finally been completed. He had thoroughly enjoyed co-producing with you, geeking at your ability to compliment each other perfectly. Your voice was yet another thing he had fallen in love with during the process, fully enamored by every single take you did. It had actually slowed down the process, as Jihoon green-lit every single one of your takes due to the rose-colored glasses that prevented him from catching mistakes you swore you'd committed during a few of the takes. You seemed to be similar, however, as you continued to shower him in compliments (even at the shoot, where you had complimented him with his hard work at the gym - a moment he chose to disregard or else he would've lost his mind at the implications), refusing to admit any faults of his while recording.

Now, however, he found himself in very difficult and unchartered waters. Any other time in which he'd produced a song, he'd never been involved further than that. He'd done duo shoots before, with women at that, but what he'd never done was share a choreography with someone who wasn't a member of Seventeen. He had danced with women before, of course, even having participated in more sensual dances, but this felt different. All previous times had been with nameless backup dancers he had never known too well. This was you. He now had to work through an entire choreo with you as the two of you danced around each other (physically and figuratively, he believed).

Most of the song involved a very casual choreo, as the two of you danced mostly separately but complimented one another. The kicker was the bridge of the song, where the melody mellowed out a bit and allowed for a quick dance break of sorts. It was very sensual in nature, and required you and Jihoon to tangle against each other as you used the other's body to complete the dance. Going over it had been full of shy smiles and eyes that couldn't seem to meet. It almost made him believe that you'd felt just as flustered as he did. When you actually began to dance over that part, however, you left Jihoon's mouth watering at how easy it was for you to meld your body to his; how you would guide his shy hands to place them in all the correct places. The feeling of your body against his was new and unfamiliar, but it felt so right to him. He wanted nothing more than to leave his mark on your skin, signaling that he was the only one meant to touch there. He was truly going mad.

It had now been about two months since Jihoon had first met you. The song hadn't been released yet, but most preparations for it had been done. All that was left was a quick music video shoot plus a few music show appearances that would come after the actual release of the song. Thus far, the song had been announced, with a pending release date of a month from now. Jihoon had enjoyed public reaction to the unexpected collab, with people even going as far as calling you a dynamic duo due to your respective reputations as the main producers of your groups.

You seemed to also enjoy knowing the news had finally broken to the public, even going as far as mentioning Jihoon in some of your lives. He specifically recalled a moment he'd seen as he watched it live, one that had him blushing and kicking his feet. You'd been asked about what it was like working with Jihoon, to which you responded with a whole paragraph of compliments directed at his work ethic, along with a short quip about how cute you found Jihoon to be, deeming it 'difficult to focus with him around.' He felt like he was on cloud nine at the comment, despite how lightheartedly you had delivered it.

After that (and a few more instances of you shooting compliments his way), he had decided he wanted to see you outside of a work-related schedule. He had begun making excuses to find himself on your group's floor, going as far as using Seungkwan and Soonyoung (who you'd unfortunately befriended due to his constant unwanted presence as you two worked on your song) as pawns in order to not be as obvious whenever he went to see you. Despite your usually outgoing demeanor, you seemed a bit more reserved whenever it was only you and Jihoon. He wondered if it was because of his quiet demeanor, or because you might've maybe returned his feelings and felt too shy to be too expressive around your crush - he knew damn well that was his case, at least.

Today the two of you were working out together at the gym - a huge feat for Jihoon, who could not help but ogle at you whenever you weren't paying attention - with him playing the role of your spotter. He had extensive knowledge of weightlifting, which he had been proud to impress you with. Right now, you were working on your arms, which required Jihoon at a close proximity in order to make sure you didn't get hurt. He enjoyed this way more than he could admit to anyone or himself.

"Is this okay? Is this the right position to do it?", you questioned as you made eye contact with him through the mirror. Your arms were lifted above your shoulders, with dumbbells on each of them as you attempted to lift them both at once.

"Yeah. That's perfect. Is it too heavy? Do you need to stop?"

"No, I'm fine, Ji, I promise. Just stand a little closer, yeah? I don't wanna drop them. And put your arms under mine?", he followed your instructions, now towering over you from behind as you sat in front of him.

The two of you had grown more comfortable in the past two weeks or so, seeing each other almost every day while outside of official schedules. He'd learned that, unlike him, you didn't have any issues with personal space, often allowing him to stand too close for comfort. He couldn't complain, though, as he was always too hypnotized by the proximity.

"Shit!", you yelped, almost dropping the dumbbell before Jihoon managed to intercept it. You had begun to do a set before the one minute mark passed, deeming you too weak to lift the dumbbell all the way up. Luckily, you had instructed Jihoon to stand close to you in order to prevent any actual damage.

"Are you okay?", he asked as he placed the dumbbells on the ground, rounding the seat in order to stand in front of your sitting form.

It was mind-numbing, really. The angle in which he was looking down at you, with your pretty eyes looking back at him with a semi-worried expression on your face at the shock of almost dropping such a heavy weight on yourself. The incident left his mind immediately at the sight of you, a layer of sweat covering your skin as you panted while looking up at him. He pulled you up by your arms, helping you stand in front of him. In very cliche fashion, you tripped a bit, almost landing on him before he caught you by your forearms. The classic 'falling-atop-your-crush' trope did not happen, but he still ended up at even a closer proximity to you. Just when he had finally begun to forget the sight of your lips right in front of his from back when you did the jacket shoot together.

He did not move back, and neither did you, allowing the small distance between you to fog both of your minds.

"T-thanks, Hoonie. Could've really hurt myself," this was the first time he'd ever heard a stutter out of you, with your eyes not looking into his as they usually did. Your closeness still not diminishing even when the danger of the situation had already dissipated.

"'Course. Uh, I .. Maybe we should go back to a lighter weight?"

It took you a moment to respond, eventually choosing to look back at him with your pretty eyes, a seemingly empty head to match. He liked the look on you. He could've sworn he saw your eyes lower to his lips, but his mind was too clouded to confirm.

"Uh, actually, I think im done for the day. Is that okay? I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Oh, right. Yeah. I'll meet you in front of your practice room?", he was confused at your sudden departure, dreading the separation, but he figured one of you would have to break the spell eventually.

"Yeah. See you there, Hoonie. I'll text you later, okay?", you gave him a quick peck on his cheek before turning to the exit, leaving behind a beet-red Jihoon as he tried to get his heartbeat to slow to a healthy rhythm.

He was left standing there, in the cold and empty company gym as he pondered as to whether or not his feelings may be mutual.

The next day the two of you met again, no mention of yesterday at all. What would there be to mention anyways? That you two stood close to each other? Jihoon felt like such a loser even having considered it anything. He was just inexperienced at this, and very much touch starved, so any small suggestive interaction had him overthinking. Like right now, as you hooked your arm on his to walk along the Hybe building together, not a care in the world about anyone who would see you.

"Did you see the outline for the music video?", you spoke up once the two of you had reached the cafeteria, picking a secluded table to sit at - not that many people wandered there anyway.

"Hmm. No, what is it?", he still hadn't managed to beat the habit of not checking his emails.

You giggled, seeming a little flustered, "Uh, we're playing a couple. Very Bonnie and Clyde but with a grudge twist. Seems pretty cool, actually."

"Oh. We-we're playing a couple?"

"Yeah. I think we can pull it off. You did really good at the shoot. Did you see the finished product? Okay, never mind. I know you didn't. They look really good, though. We look very convincing."

He knew you didn't mean anything by it, but you constantly had him wondering. If you liked him you wouldn't be this direct, right? This must've all been very lighthearted to you. Sure, you were friends, but that's where it all ended for you. Jihoon was the complete opposite. Every single interaction you had had him falling deeper and deeper into a hole of infatuation for you. There was nothing about you he wasn't obsessed with. It had begun to manifest in all areas of his life, even his work. He had never had more unfinished love songs in his hard drive.

Unbeknownst to you, he had purposely avoided taking a look at those pictures, knowing his mind would go blank at the image of you looking at him with those lustful eyes from a third-person perspective. Living through it already had him in agony night after night as he thought of nothing but you.

"Y-yeah. I saw them," he lied, "You did amazing."

"Really?", you were always giddy at his compliments (which didn't come often due to his shy demeanor towards you), "I've never done a more provocative concept like this before. It's fun. It suits you a lot, Jihoon. I'm glad I got to do it with you of all people."

And you had no idea how glad he was too.

Shooting the music video had somehow been even more agonizing than the photoshoot. It was two grueling days of constant time spent together. He loved your company, but the stylists kept insisting on dressing you in the most provocative outfits imaginable to man. He couldn't think while he looked at you. You were like a siren. Even the strongest of men wouldn't be able to resist you.

The worst of it came in the form of the director instructing you two to act like two lovers against the world. Word for word. It wasn't difficult for Jihoon to pretend he was enamored by you, but he was truly at a loss of words over how well you also played your role. By now he had become numb to your touch, having run through the choreography with you multiple times by now, and with you having become increasingly touchier through the time you'd known each other.

He thanked god under his breath as soon as the two days came to a close, knowing that now he could at least keep his feelings under wraps for a while. It was now about two weeks until the release of the song. According to the schedule, all that was left was one pre-recorded Studio Choom performance, two comeback shows after the release of the song, and two variety show appearances together. It was all pretty straightforward from now on. There was no way Jihoon wouldn't be able to put up with what was left. He had this in the bag.

The worst thing imaginable happened after that. Jihoon had not planned for this, nor had you, apparently.

It was very sudden and came completely out of left field. It pertained to you, but had affected Jihoon more than anyone involved.

Dispatch had released an article just a week before the official release of the song. Promotions had only begun, but had been slightly disrupted by this sudden interruption.

The article featured you, and an unknown man. They were clearly pictures taken off-guard, from a distance. You were in front of some building, ignorant to any cameras nearby. You were too close for Jihoon's comfort. He knew there was some type of relationship there. The caption to the picture didn't help matters either. Something about an estranged lover you'd been keeping secret from the media. There were too many pictures for Jihoon to process. In some you were embracing, while in others you were sharing a low-quality peck from what he could tell.

Seeing that article had been an absolute punch in the gut. There was no argument against it. There was clearly something between you and that guy. He was standing too close to you, even holding onto you in most of the pictures. You could barely tell it was you, but to Jihoon it was obvious. He had never felt heartbreak like this before. The two of you had never dated or even insinuated actual interest in the other, but it still felt like betrayal to him, as irrational as that thought was. It was all his fault, really. Had he told you about his feelings, maybe things would've been different.

Jihoon felt like an idiot. Of course this had all been just a business transaction to you. You were assigned to work with him, just as he was you. Even if he had led himself to believe that the feelings might've somehow been mutual, it had all just been in his head. What would you see in him anyways? Yeah, sure, you had a few things in common, but who in their right mind would ever want to be with the empty-hearted producer who cared for nothing but work. Hell, the day he met you was yet another day in which he had been willingly locked in his studio all day. That was what you would've been signing up for, had you looked his way. He didn't wish such a loveless relationship to anyone. He knew by now that he did- he did love you, but he knew he was probably unable to love you in the way you deserved. He was incapable of that. At 26, he'd had no experience with love. Why would someone as beautiful and amazing as you want to be with someone like him?

He was in love with you. That was something he could now full-heartedly admit to himself. Within these two months he had fallen deeply in love with you. Nothing could change that by now, not even knowing that you were already taken. He couldn't help himself in locking himself in his house after that, ignoring and all messages from both you and his manager regarding the few rehearsals he had skipped over.

Hybe did their damage control, making the situation go away as soon as it arose, but to Jihoon the damage had been done. He felt like an irrational idiot being hurt by this, but he needed to be away from you for a few days. You hadn't done anything to him, but he couldn't see you right now without feeling pain. He was punishing you with no proper justification, but his feelings were too strong for him to put up with.

A little over an entire day went on like this, with no communication from Jihoon to anyone. He was surprised no one had come looking for him until now, the moment in which bangs against his front door could be heard all the way from his room. Whoever was looking for him had made liberal use of the doorbell too, not giving him a single break from its constant ringing as he tried to ignore it. He finally grew too tired of it, deciding to give up his moping and going downstairs to beg that person to leave him alone to his misery. He still needed a few days before he could go face his reality. He couldn't face you just yet.

Except the choice had been made for him. His first mistake had been not checking the doorbell camera, which would've made him privy on who exactly was knocking on his door. He felt bad at thinking this, but had he known it was you, he never would've opened it.

He was beyond embarrassed at his appearance, once more wearing a three-day-old shirt and his cheeks damp with the tears he hadn't yet wiped away. You, on the other hand, looked as beautiful as ever. You carried a worried look on your face, lips pouty and eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him. He was not given time to welcome you in before you barged in for yourself, launching yourself at him in a tight hug before he could say anything. He wasn't an idiot, and he was too weak for his liking, so he held you back just as tight, enjoying a good three or so minutes of silence as you held each other.

You pulled away too soon for his liking, unhooking your face from the crook of his neck as you spoke up, still holding onto him, "Jihoon ... I'm so sorry. It's- it's not what you think, I swear. Please believe me."

He wasn't sure why you were so apologetic. You didn't owe him anything. He felt like even more of a loser at making you feel like you had to apologize for having a boyfriend. He knew that by now there was no way you didn't know about his crush on you, which made him feel even more humiliated at the situation. He separated himself from you for the first time ever, creating some distance as he refused to look at you. He took this chance to close the door he had left open when you had attacked him with your embrace.

"You don't have to ..."

"No, Jihoon. Listen to me. Please."

Your eyes were glossy now, and Jihoon felt bad at causing you any distress, so he signaled at you to continue.

"It's not- it isn't what you think. Yeah, I ... I did have a ... a thing with that guy. I know Hybe denied it being me, but you know- you know it's me. But it's not how it looks!"

"Then ... what is it?", he couldn't believe he was even letting himself ask that question, as if you had to explain yourself to him. But part of him really wanted to know. He wanted to somehow hear you say that it wasn't true, that you would never look at anyone but him.

"It's an old picture. He- he used to work for our group, as staff. We had a thing. It ended badly. Haven't really dated since then. This was before I met you, Jihoon, please, I need you to know that."

"You .. Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you need me to know that?", he hoped against all hope that you'd answer with what he'd been wanting to hear since he met you, but he knew he was playing with the devil when asking you that. He knew there was a very logical chance that you'd just confirm your platonic feelings for him, or straight up reject him.

"You know, Jihoon. I know you know. I- I'd never do that to you. I'd never look at anyone but you."

"Do you-"

"Yes', you paused, 'I like you, Jihoon."

And then his heart stopped beating.

"So much. Since we met. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since the day we met. I like you so fucking much. I can't think of anything else. I thought it was just because I've always been a fan of yours, but ... being around you just made me feel so happy. I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. Fuck, I'm sorry I made you feel like there was someone else in the picture."

He didn't know what to say. You'd said everything he had wanted to hear for the past two months. You liked him. It wasn't one-sided. There was nothing stopping him from making you his now. Those feelings he thought had been fake for the portrayal of your song's concept had been genuine all along. He'd never felt such relief.

"Jihoon? Is it not ...? Fuck. Did I misread everything? Shit, I'm sorry. I should, uh, I should go-"

Fuck. No! He needed to reciprocate, he just had no idea how. He couldn't have you thinking he wasn't equally (if not more) obsessed with you. So he did the one thing he could think of in that moment. Something he had imagined time and time again, but never had the courage to do.

You yelped against him as he pulled his lips to yours, but immediately began kissing him back. There was nothing tender about the kiss as Jihoon would've expected. It was a complete mess from the start. The kiss was a testament to how badly you'd both wanted each other this whole time.

Jihoon felt lightheaded at the feeling of your tongue sneaking its way into his mouth, and the moans that accompanied it. He couldn't help but feel immediate arousal at your touch. He wasn't sure how to kiss you. He'd never shared such a passionate exchange before, but he wanted to give you everything in him with his kiss.

You only pulled away when you were out of breath, still keeping yourself as close to him as possible as you breathed into each other's mouths, your lips lightly closing over his as you regained your breath.

"Hoonie ..." the sound of your breathless voice muttering his name did shameful things to him. There was no way he could handle a conversation right now.

"Tell me- tell me you like me. I need to know. Please ..." the sheer lust and desperation in your voice were things that would never leave Jihoon's mind.

"So much. I li- I love you. You have no idea. Every day was agony not acting on it. I'm sorry if it's too much, but it's true. I've never felt this way before. I'm in love with you. The thought of you with someone else made me wanna give everything up. It's ... God, I just love you."

You didn't seem to need any more words before closing the gap again, this time backing him up against the nearest wall as you kissed him with all your might. You took full control of the kiss, grabbing his cheeks and angling him so you could play with his lips as you saw fit. He moaned and writhed against you, shyly attempting to hold onto your waist but not actually daring to. You must've caught wind of his intentions, grabbing onto his hands and forcing them on your waist, pressing your chest up against his. He began to caress your waist, falling in love with the slope of your back in the process. He was still shy with his movements, but his lips were nothing but. He adored your soft sighs against his lips any time his tongue would suckle on yours, or any time his teeth nibbled on your bottom lip.

You must've eventually grown tired of his shy demeanor, grabbing onto his arms and pining them above his head, beginning to softly grind against him as you began to lick and suck at his neck. Jihoon was on cloud nine. His body was unsure of how to react to such pleasure from someone he had already grown so addicted to.

"Hoonie ... want you so bad ... please," his knees buckled at your begging, your warm breath hitting against his ear as he groaned out at the thought of you in his bed.

He was simply a shell of himself at that point, so it had been your responsibility to drag the both of you in the direction he pointed his bedroom was at, but as soon as you were there, you pushed him to lay on the bed. He was ready for whatever you were willing to give him. He had no chance against you anyway.

"Hoonie, shit. Been wanting you for so long. Can I, please?", you'd begun to straddle him, leaning over him as you ghosted over his lips. He swore he wasn't going to make it, body heating up at the mere suggestion of you touching him.

"P-please ..."

You began kissing him again, running your hands up and down his torso, eventually landing on his crotch, softly caressing it as he whined into your mouth.

"Oh? Jihoonie ... You're so hard. Want me to help you?"

"Fuck ... Need you so bad, please ..."

"But we haven't even started to have fun," you moved your hand away, now sitting up a bit to begin grinding against his crotch, deep movements making his eyes roll back as his arms laid limp on his sides.

"Won't you touch me, Hoonie? Don't be shy. You already know how much I want you," you guided his hands to your hips, making him clamp his fingers on the clothed flesh while you moaned out at the feeling of his hard cock gracing your most delicate parts.

You were both beginning to heat up, which led you to throw your shirt off, now only in a bra and some sweats. He audibly moaned at the view, only causing you to play it up for him as you caressed your own covered breasts, "Want me to take my bra off, baby? Hmm?"

"Y-yes. Wanna see you so bad. You're so beautiful."

That was enough for you to wiggle your way out of your pants, throwing off your bra right after. The sight had his cock squirming under you. No amount of lonely nights thinking about you could have ever prepared him for the sight before him. Your soft skin shining under the soft light of the half drawn blinds. He wanted to memorize your body, leave his mark on every inch of it, but his arms would not move from your hips. He knew that the moment he got his hands on you he would finally face insanity. There was not a single detail he wasn't already obsessed with. He wanted you so badly, but he didn't know what to do with himself. His cock was extremely swollen under his sweats, begging to find comfort in any crevice of your body you would allow. The fleeting thought of fucking your pretty tits flew through his mind, making him shudder as he continued to pant at the beautiful girl sitting on him.

"Touch me?", you asked, already guiding his hands to your breasts, making him sit up to be face to face with you.

"Holy fuck ..." he moaned at the warmth of your breasts in his hands. He couldn't help himself in getting his fill of you, hands squeezing and running all over your chest. The moment he dared to pinch at your nipples he truly saw heaven, hearing you whine his name in the prettiest sound he'd ever heard.

"Hoo-Hoonie ... Please. Touch me more. Just like that," you let your head fall back, sighing at the soft touch of his fingers pinching at your nipples, "Your mouth, Hoonie ..."

That was all he needed to lower his head and begin licking at your nipples, biting lightly as he pulled at them, dick twitching desperately at the pretty sounds leaving your lips. He could've sworn he'd cum just from how beautiful you sounded. His ears were ringing by now, only able to process the feeling of your hand pressing his face against your chest and your hips suddenly restarting their movements against his own.

You let him make out with your tits for a bit before pulling him off, much to his dismay. You giggled at his reaction, but began to pout at him to get him to remove his top.

"Shit. God, Hoonie, you're so gorgeous," you breathed out upon seeing his bare chest, running your hands up and down the blank canvas. You let your own fingers pull and pinch at his nipples a bit, slow in your movements as he whined at you. He understood now, how fucking good such a light touch in such a sensitive area felt. He was beginning to lose all air in his brain, mind foggy as you gave him all types of pleasure.

He needed you now. Needed attention in his nether area so bad. He could feel how wet you were through his sweats, softly begging you to please let him have you. The whisper against your ear had you pulling your hands away from his chest, separating yourself enough to look into his eyes.

"Want you too. Can I have it, Hoonie? Fuck ... Will you judge me if I beg? I just ... Want you in my mouth so bad, Hoonie, please."

He felt embarrassed by his reaction, but he couldn't help but moan loudly at that simple sentence, nodding like crazy at the proposition. The last time he'd been in someone's mouth had been years ago. He had felt intimate touch before, but only a handful of times total. He was fully unprepared for what your mouth encompassing him would feel like.

Before he knew it, you had thrown off both his pants and boxers, enticing him to sit at the edge of the bed as you knelt in front of him. You were looking at his cock as if it were your last meal, eyes crossed and a moan leaving your mouth at the sight. He couldn't believe a gorgeous thing like yourself would ever show so much thirst for him. His soul left his body the moment you lowered your tongue onto his tip, kitten-licking at it as you looked up into his eyes. What truly made him lose his mind, however, was the moment you began to bob your head up and down his cock, with your hands playing and scratching at his balls. His hands clutched at the sheets, unable to hold himself in a sat up position due to the unimaginable pleasure. He was unsure how he didn't cum the moment you put your mouth on him (or the moment you kissed him, if he was being honest).

"So- fuck ... So fucking good. You're perfect. Please ..." he wasn't sure what he was begging for. The pleasure was clouding his mind. And then you did something that had him gasping for air. You unglued your mouth from gagging on his cock in favor of licking and sucking at his balls. His eyes rolled all the way back into his brain, back arching against the bed as you took turns licking his balls and worshiping his cock.

Unsurprisingly, he came in your mouth moments later, almost blacking out at the feeling. He was unable to catch his breath for a good minute, all the while you swallowed his seed and sat back on him. Before he was able to resume his breathing, you had already shoved your tongue back in his mouth, making him whine at the mixture of your saliva and his cum twirling in your tongue. He couldn't help his hands running all over your body, hugging and squeezing at every curve he could reach.

"Baby, I-"

"Taste so good, Hoonie, fuck. You have no idea how much I thought about that. Every time you wore those tiny little shorts to dance practice all I wanted to do was kick everyone out and beg you to fuck my mouth."

Jesus Christ. He hated how outspoken you were sometimes. He felt himself begin to harden again at just the simple thought of you wanting him as much as he did you (even though he was 99% sure that was impossible). He felt bad, but he was a bit sad he had cum in your mouth. He had thought of the feeling of your cunt wrapping around him almost every night for the past month. He knew he'd get it sooner or later, but a sinister part of his brain was begging him to flip you around and go to town on you. He might've been inexperienced, but he knew that his body would take him there if he needed it.

"W-wanna ..."

"Hmm? Yeah, baby?", you softly caressed his cheek, looking at him with so much love in your eyes.

"Please ..." he couldn't bring himself to say it. He felt too ashamed at asking for even more out of you when he'd already made you do all the work to confess and even made him have the best orgasm of his life.

"Yeah, Hoonie? Want me? Want you too. You have no idea ..." he thanked god the moment you started grinding against his bare dick yet again, leaning down to lick at his lips, "Can I ride you, baby? Please ... Been dreaming about it."

All he could do was whine and nod as his hands squeezed at your ass, trying to entice you into lifting your hips so you could finally sit on his now hardened dick.

No words left his mouth as you finally lowered on him, all his focus on the pretty expression on your face as you moaned out at the feeling of being impaled by him. His back arched, head digging back into the mattress at the feeling of your cunt tightening around him. He felt your back arch too as you leaned down to kiss him, mouths open as you whined and mewled at each other.

You began humping him with no proper rhythm, causing him to thrust upwards to meet your own grinds. He was so desperate for you. Nothing compared to how good he felt in that moment. Your body was drawing all types of pleasure out of him.

"F-feel so good. Hoonie ... You're so- Ah! So fucking good for me."

"Me? You ... Shit. Never felt this good. You're perfect," you tightened at his words, making him plant his feet on the bed and begin to frantically fuck upwards, leading you to scream and whine his name for all his neighbors to hear.

"Love you so much- Fuck! Been wanting you forever. Didn't know how hard I'd fall for you that day, shit. You're everything to me," he couldn't help himself in rambling yet another confession in your ear as you attempted to match the animalistic pace of his thrusts.

"Love you too, Hoonie. You have n-no idea. Never letting you go. You- you're mine now," and yours he wanted to be forever.

Jihoon had never imagined he'd feel love like this as long as he was alive. He had lost hope in finding the perfect girl many years ago, assuming his lifestyle to be too difficult for him to find someone to love him so strongly, but now he had you. Now he had you in his arms as you professed your love for one another. He had never felt such happiness. His ability to think left him soon after, however, as you clamped down on him with yet another scream of his name as you found your end, taking him with you in his own.

After the two minutes or so that it took you to regain your breaths, you managed to cuddle up against each other, unable to stop caressing each other in one way or another. The smiles wouldn't leave your faces. Jihoon couldn't help but think of his life; how he had everything a man could ever want, and now he had you on top of all that, and you'd quickly become his favorite thing. You spent the rest of the day in his bed, making love and waxing poetic at one another. You completely disregarded any collab preparations for the day, opting instead to finally give into each other to the fullest extent.

Soon after, all promotions finally ended. You and Jihoon received equal accolades on your ability to mix both your styles, achieving a successful collaboration between two monster producers. The praise over being all rounders was also endless, as people commended you both for the production, vocals, dance, visuals and chemistry demonstrated all throughout the promotional period.

People noticed how comfortable you were around each other, despite having never publicly interacted before the release date of the single. People believed it was simply amazing work ethic being showcased by the two of you, but what didn't meet the public eye was the genuine love and enjoyment behind every interaction. The two of you had made it a point to begin appearing publicly together often from then on (strictly as friends to anyone who asked, of course), which allowed you to hide your relationship in plain sight.

Jihoon had never been happier, now having you as yet another companion to visit him at his Universe Factory any time he would lock himself in there to work, a habit that began to diminish as he grew more and more addicted to your company outside the confinement of those four walls.

Today was yet another one of those occasions, as you were sharing yet another meal together at the Hybe cafeteria. Staff was mostly unaware of the nature of your relationship, but you two liked it that way.

"Hey," you called out to him as you played around with his phone.

"Hmm?"

"Did you see this email from Bumzu?", he shook his head in denial, "He said Hybe's requesting your help producing for Gyu's collab with Jungkook. Cause of how well ours did."

"Yeah?", he chuckled, "Gonna have to talk to him. Not doing it without you."

"Oh, really?", you grinned at him, "Wanna team up again?", you leaned closer to him, but not too close to draw suspicion from the few other idols and staff around who were eating there.

"Mhm. You did most of the work. Couldn't've done it without you."

He knew that to be completely true, as he would've remained in his slump had you not come out of left field to make his life do a 180.

"Wanna team up with you for the rest of my life."

You smiled at him. He could see in your eyes you wanted to show some sort of affection towards him, but could not due to the public setting. All it took was one look between you for him to know you felt the same. You held his hand under the table, going back to conversation about your next possible collaboration together with your other labelmates, happy to have found a soulmate in one another.

a/n: idk how other writers are putting out 20k+ words monsters jesus christ. anyways i rlly hope u enjoyed <33 this concept had been plaguing my mind for a while so im rlly happy to have finally finished it!!

2K notes · View notes

phenphoenix · 2 months

Text

Get ready for the Queen and King of Hell!

I'm still figuring out just exactly what to do with lucifer. I have a few ideas, but I also want to kinda keep it like cannon, where it's a huge mystery right now.

I'm also shooting in the dark as far as Lilith goes lmao-

Anyways I know I've talked about it before, but basically, lillith is obviously more present now. And instead of her going missing 7 years ago, it was lucifer. She took this hard and became a recluse. She stopped singing and started to neglect her duties as Queen. Her and Charlotte have a very similar relationship to Cannon lucifer and Charlie. Where they are a lot alike but never really got the chance to explore that until later. She comes up in the AU as a sort of stand in for Rosie's episode. Charlotte takes Alastor to her mom because they have just gotten back from hevan and....well we all know how that went.

Like Rosie with her cannibals, lillith not only directly rules over all sinners, but hellborn aswell. So in this case Al and Charlotte would be asking for her support and to give them an army of Hellborn to help fight. In this AU the exorcists are more complicated and overall it will take more than a large group of cannibals to help defend against a direct threat. Also, the pardon does still exist, but only if that hellborn doesn't try to fight back or anything. The second they do, they become ok to kill just like a sinner. So, all of the demons who are now fighting alongside the Sinners have lost that security.

Most of the real interesting stuff with these two happens in the last episode, which I will get too eventually. *wink wonk*

Close ups

MASTERPOST

#my art #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel swap au #hazbin hotel au #art #hazbin hotel fanart #hazbin art #hazbin hotel lilith #hazbin hotel lucifer #the hart hotel

663 notes · View notes

luveline · 28 days

Note

I've read your vampire eddie fic and its soo lovely I adore them being weird toghether <3 and I thought how will reader and eddie pass the summer? I totally see her saying shit like Vlad please put on some sunscreen lol and eddie be so grumpy

“It’s not that you don’t like it,” you’re saying.

“No, that’s exactly what it is.”

You sit down on the picnic blanket by his hip with a plate of summer fruit sweating in your hands. You’ve dotted a few ice cubes through the mountains of it, water melting, turning pink from the melon and yellow with the pineapple juice as the sun bears down.

“The sun is good for you,” you say, taking a slice of apple with green, bright rind in between two fingers. You have very pretty hands, Eddie’s thought that ever since you met, and they’re prettier still because of how you use them, you’re oh so gentle. “Just like this.”

He won’t let you feed him, taking the apple as you press it to his lips, juice and water wetting his fingers. “The sun does nothing for me. I’m dead.”

“Are you?” you ask, a genuine curiosity to your tone as you put the plate in front of him. Eddie, on his front, anticipates your next move before you’ve decided, not just because of his super senses but also because you’re a predictable creature, who loves him very much. Unlikely and true. “I thought you were only half dead,” you say, resting a hand by his ribs and leveraging yourself across his back in a hug. “Well, I thought you were undead.”

Eddie is regrettably undead. “I forgot you were the expert on my condition,” he says, putting the apple slice in his mouth whole.

“Your condition,” you say, your face slotting into the back of his neck, forcing him to close his eyes and settle into the blanket, grass beneath it crisp from the heat.

“My vampirism.”

“Ah, I thought you meant your behavioural issues.”

“Of course you did.”

You don’t say anything back. Quiet, your hands slide up in front of his armpits, your head lolling heavily to one side. You mouth a word against his neck, a second and third, but Eddie can’t decipher what it is you’re saying even with his incredible hearing, can only feel the soft curve of your lips as they shutter closed, hot like a fresh bruise beneath his ear.

Eddie nudges you to slide off of him, turning, cautious of the plate, to offer you his arm, and to see your face more clearly. You’ve forgone any of your fun makeups today, weary of the heat, all your wrinkles and lines in stunning detail under his gaze.

You lay on your side and Eddie lifts the arm that isn’t supporting him with his finger bent into a tight ‘n’ to stroke the skin under your chin. “You’re pretty,” he says, his knuckle rubbing back and forth.

“You’re beautiful,” you say back. The hair at the nape of your neck is damp with sweat, and as you both lay there in the humidity, a bead of it races suddenly to sink into the fabric of your top.

“You’re really pretty,” he says, ignoring your deflection —though for you, he doubts it’s a deflection at all, only a thought you’d had and spoken without qualm— in favour of lavishing you with some more love and praise. He opens his palm and touches his fingertips to your cheek, conscious of the heat, stringing the words together slow as the heavy pour of a maple tapper, “I don’t like the sun, it’s hot, and I’m melting, but I don’t think I mind it when you’re here too.”

Your heart does a jump, to his smugness, an audible caper of your pulse. “Everything’s better when we’re together,” you say.

He nods severely and lifts your chin just a touch, tilting his head to the side to kiss you. The pressure of his fangs is forgotten, a blood sate too far away to ignore the more nefarious longing that thrums at the centre of his chest, but overpowered anyways by practice, and desire; he’s gotten a thousand times better at kissing you, because you like to be kissed, and he likes to give you anything he can.

He can’t pretend he doesn’t like this, either. You cover his hand with yours and wade in like a quick tide, pulling back and pushing in, like nips without the pain. Your hand slips into his hair. “I love you,” you say, “but you’re sweating like crazy.”

“You’re sweating worse,” he says.

“We’ll have to take a vacation.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Literally everywhere cold.”

Eddie can’t leave Hawkins. He needs blood, and there’s only one sheriff who’s willing to source it for him. But it’s a nice idea, a fantasy he won’t ruin for you. “Where’d you want to go first?”

“I wanna go to that place with the Northern Lights. We’d never complain about sweating again.”

You squint at him.

“What?” he asks.

“Where do you want to go?” you ask.

“Anywhere with you.”

“Well, you’d have to.”

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” he asks.

“I’m your only portable blood bag, Eddie.”

He lays back on his back, covering his eyes with an arm as the other comes to rest on his soft stomach, whirl of a scar thick beneath his shirt. “Never gonna happen.”

You shuffle closer to him. “One day,” you say, laying down next to him with your face nearly flat to the blanket, the heat of your body a palpable thickness he wouldn’t change for the world, dehydration inevitable. “You’ll give me a nice sharp kiss and that’ll be that.”

“Never.”

“Imagine it.” Your voice turns to a whisper.

“Never, babe,” he says, he promises, the weight of his arm over his eyes like an iron.

“I’ll just have to bite you instead.”

You open your mouth and press your teeth to the hill of his shoulder, dull and wet, your breath like a kiss before you let your lips drift shut and give him a proper one. “Love you,” you say.

“Love you, freakazoid.” He wrestles you into a cuddle he’ll regret sooner rather than later, wishing his vampirism were better at keeping him cool. He’s cold to the touch most of the time. Right now he’s baking. “But I’m not biting you,” he says into your forehead.

You laugh breezily. “Not today you’re not. That’s why I made fruit salad.”

#love bites universe #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

411 notes · View notes

infamous-if · 4 months

Text

Happy 1 year anniversary to this blog!

It was yesterday...though I do find it fitting that I've been focused on writing so much that I forgot lmao

When I first had the idea for Infamous, I didn't work on it right away. The concept was cool, yeah, but was it enough for interactive fiction? A medium I never even tried before?

I let it marinate in my head for a while wondering if it would be a good story or not. I listened to a lot of music, made a lot of idea boards and outlined routes but told myself I wasn't actually writing it. Just playing in a new literary sandbox with no strings! I was very close to not publishing my idea because it felt like it wasn't a story that I could handle. And it was daunting. I've published stories before, but they were completed novels that I could just forget about it and move on from once I was done. This was a commitment! I kept asking myself if I was even a good enough writer for the plans I had haha

But it didn't stop bothering me and I was getting irritable over my own brain creating this whole world without my permission. So I posted the intro post on a whim just to see what would happen! Turns out, I'm really happy I did!

One year later and there's been a whole community of people who have enriched the story and elevated it to a place that I wouldn't have been able to do it on my own. The amazing fanfics, the head canons, fan art and the suggestions, it's been really nice to work on this with the support and encouragement I've gotten. I think the best parts of the story so far have come from the collective, not me, and knowing that there are people who watched me serve my ideas on a platter like "here. take it pls." and accepted it is really nice. I'm grateful :)

thank you guys for reading the story and being kind to me and my ideas and having so many discussions over these characters that were once just in my mind, alone with me to tend to them. and to the if authors who have been here much longer, thank you for welcoming me with open arms. thank you to the group of if authors in particular who took me under their wing and gave me advice on how to handle things and how to move forward. you didn't have to come into my dm's and give me guidance or help me, but you did anyway and im eternally grateful!

I'm excited for 2024 to be the year that we really dive into the story. I still can't believe we're only 2 chapters in. it feels much longer, doesn't it? lololol

thanks!! <3

#one year anniversary #Amy yapping

613 notes · View notes

ktgoodmorning · 2 months

Text

"Your opinion of me won't change, right?"

Alexia Putellas x reader

Masterlist

You've been hiding your poor family relationships from your girlfriend, sending you into a downward spiral

Wasn't gonna make this two parts but apparent I'm not capable of making anything short enough to not split it up so a second part will be coming. I've got a little road trip this weekend so it'll be a minute before it's done, just wanted to get something out before I left.

Your relationship with your family had never been great. The four of you were constantly fighting and arguing, usually over things that weren’t all that serious. Your parents were the worst of it, always trying to keep you in their control. Although you had never gotten along well, your relationship worsened when you decided to make your move from the United States to Spain more permanent than you had originally planned.

You first moved to Spain about three years ago. It had been temporary, for your job. You were only supposed to be there for a year. Over the course of that year however, you had no idea how much you would fall in love with everything that Spain offered you. Your company had settled you in Barcelona and you fell in love with the city instantly. The weather was far better than you were used to back home, every meal you had was significantly tastier than anything you could find there. You truly found no negatives to your new life you had started establishing in Barcelona. Best of all, you met your girlfriend, Alexia.

The night you met, she ran into you at a club. You were out partying with some of the new people from work so they could show you the city. When you were at the bar waiting to order another drink, someone basically fell into your side. It had appeared one of her friends had pushed her in your direction in an attempt to force her to talk to you. The blonde woman apologized (and blushed) profusely, insisting on buying your drink for you. From there, the two of you got to talking and never really stopped. You weren’t one for random hookups and didn’t feel comfortable leaving with some stranger in a city that was brand new to you so you gave Alexia your number and told her to text you.

To your surprise, Alexia texted you the next morning, asking if you’d want to get lunch. It was an obvious answer to you as you got ready to meet her at a local cafe she recommended. From that day on, the two of you fell fast. You had clicked instantly. Conversation always flowed easily between you and time flew by. As cliche as it was, it felt like the two of you were meant to be together. Your lunch date led to a series of other dates, often built around the idea of her showing you new spots around the city she loved so much. After about a month of seeing each other casually, Alexia finally asked you to be her girlfriend.

It was important to both of you to keep your relationship private, especially in the early phase of it all. You each valued how easy it was being just the two of you, not having to worry about the media, fans, or in your case- your family. You knew they wouldn’t be happy with you falling in love with a “random girl” in Spain. They wouldn’t be able to understand your love for her or how happy you were here. All they wanted was for you to come home. The further your relationship with Alexia developed, the more the chances of you coming home shrunk.

After about 2 months officially dating, you each told your close family and friends about your relationship. Your parents met her over FaceTime and it went about as well as could be expected. They were (surprisingly) nice to your girlfriend during your call, being polite and going through all the formalities. However, later that night on the phone they expressed their disapproval to you. Your mom told you all about how you didn’t need a relationship distracting you from your job and how it was a waste of time anyways since you’d only be in Barcelona for about nine more months. You didn’t take much of this to heart as this was exactly what you expected from them. To you, you just smiled and nodded and spent as little time on the phone with them as possible. Alexia didn’t know the extent of the conflict within your family. Knowing she was close with her’s, you didn’t want her to judge the way your family treated each other. It wasn’t that big of a deal anyways. She knew the four of you weren’t all that close but you never let her into how bad it really was. Why did your girlfriend need to know that anyways? They were an ocean away, you just needed to get over it. It wasn’t that big of a deal, you just tended to sugar-coat it some when the two of you brought up your families.

Alexia’s family had the exact opposite reaction upon meeting you. You knew your girlfriend’s family was extremely close, especially her and her sister. The pair of you had gone for dinner with them to officially meet and they were absolutely amazing to you. They greeted you with hugs and wanted to know all about you. Your dinner with them could not have gone better. Alexia’s mother had already made you feel like a true member of the family. They made you feel valued and important, something you often missed from your own parents. Sometimes you tended to bond closer with other people’s parents due to the lack of relationship with your own, so you appreciated how welcoming they had been to you. You were incredibly grateful not only to Alexia but to her entire family. During that dinner, you realized just how much you were falling in love with her. You loved everything about her and her life.

About a month later, Alexia introduced you to her teammates. It was hard not to love them too. You could see clearly why they meant so much to your girlfriend and immediately started to form bonds with them as well. At this point you had both already confessed your love for each other and were becoming more and more serious. The more integrated your lives became, the harder it was to imagine going back to the US. You didn’t feel like there was much you were leaving behind there. As the months passed and your relationship continued to flourish, you decided to make your temporary work transfer into something more permanent. In less than a year, you had built more of a life for yourself in Barcelona than you ever had back home. It was impossible to imagine leaving the sunshine, your friends, the beaches, and most importantly, your girlfriend.

You didn’t realize your relationship with your family could get any worse until you told them about your decision to stay in Spain. It was the middle of the afternoon when you called them, intentionally picking a time when Alexia wouldn’t be home. You knew it wouldn’t go over well and you didn’t need her to see the reality of your life back home. It was hard to have prepared yourself for all the yelling and crying that was directed at you through the phone. Your mom told you that you were throwing your life away for “some girl,” while your dad told you about how you clearly couldn’t care about them if you were willing to move away. The insults didn’t seem to end. No matter how much you tried to explain yourself, justify your decision, and communicate the feelings you had for everything (and everyone) in Barcelona, it just continued to worsen.

It didn’t take long to lose your patience with your parents. Your guard was already up so you were on the defensive before you even dialed their number, putting you even further on edge. The more they refused to listen to you, the more your frustration turned to anger. Pretty soon, the three of you were fully yelling back and forth at each other. It wasn’t uncommon in your family to end up arguing and yelling. You didn’t like it but it felt like it was often the only way to get your point across. When they got in these moods, they’d refuse to listen. Sometimes your heightened emotions were the only thing that got through to them. As usual, your yelling turned to hot, angry, tears. You were so frustrated and full of rage. You didn’t even bother wiping them away, knowing more would just continue to fall. None of this was new to you, but it didn’t make it any less frustrating as you continued to hurl insults back and forth through the phone..

The group of you went on like this for over an hour on the phone before you had had enough and finally hung up on them. It had felt like a turning point in your relationship, and not in a good way. It felt like a point where there would be no turning back. As much as you knew you were okay with this, it still made you sad. How could you have ended up like this? Why couldn’t you just have a normal family? One that loves each other?

You were far too distracted to notice your girlfriend come home from training while you were on the phone. When she walked in the door, she heard yelling and was immediately filled with concern. She knew you were planning on talking to your parents today about making your move permanent. You were nervous about it and had worried about it non-stop before she left for training. She didn’t quite understand the extent of your worries but supported you endlessly. The blonde had no idea how deeply this would hit. The volume of your voice both concerned and confused her as she further entered the house.

Following your voice, she ran to your bedroom where she finally spotted you. You were sitting on the floor, leaning up against your bed. Tears were running down your face and covering the front of the sweatshirt you had stolen from her. In the time you had dated, just under a year now, Alexia had never seen you looking anything like this. You were normally extremely smiley and happy. Now you were crumpled on the ground yelling rudely into your phone. It confused her. Normally you were nice to everybody, all the time, no matter what. How could you be saying things like this all of the sudden? And to your parents? As she stood frozen in the bedroom doorway, watching you, she was also overcome with sadness. You looked so broken, so helpless. For once, Alexia had no idea what to do. She had such a wide range of emotions, seeing you like this for the first time ever.

Alexia didn’t notice right away when you had hung up on your parents. As soon as you did so, you broke down fully sobbing. The sound of that was what had made your girlfriend snap out of her thoughts, running to you and immediately pulling you into her arms. It made you jump when she grabbed you, having no idea she had gotten home. You relaxed slightly upon seeing who it was but quickly tensed again, “Ale,” you choked through more sobs. “What are you doing here? How long have you been home?” you continued to gasp for air, more overwhelmed than ever both by your family as well as Alexia seeing how that had gone.

The blonde continued to hold you tightly and stroke a hand down your back, trying to calm you down. “Training finished up early, I got home a few minutes ago,” she tried to explain, however you didn’t seem to be taking in her words. “You’re okay, mi amor. It’s just me, breathe.”

You cut her off by shaking your head rapidly. Fully starting to panic, you pushed your girlfriend off of you and moved away from her slightly. The idea of Alexia seeing you like that, seeing how you and your parents treat each other, filled you with shame. Surely she would break up with you. Family was everything to her, and she just heard you yelling at yours. How could she possibly be okay with that? Somehow, you had managed to panic even worse, not even realizing it. At this point, you were fully struggling to breathe. All you could do was let out strained chokes and sobs, failing to catch your breath. “Mi amor, please let me help you,” Alexia started to plead with you as you still didn’t let her get closer to you. She was getting seriously concerned, not knowing how to calm you down.

The more you struggled to take in air, you started to feel light headed. The rational side of you, deep down, knew Alexia was your only way out of this at this point. You had hit a point where you needed her help. If you didn’t let her help you, you’d most certainly make yourself pass out. Finally, you reached one hand towards her, nodding rapidly, inviting her to help you. Your other hand grasped at your chest, almost pleading with yourself to allow you to breathe again. As soon as you welcomed her, Alexia immediately came close to you, placing your outstretched hand on her chest. “Try to match my breaths, amor,” she spoke calmly yet much quicker than usual, filled with concern for you. “You’re gonna be okay, I’ve got you, just try to breathe with me, you can do it.” The older girl was basically begging with you, not something typical for her. Eventually, when your gasps started to be slightly more productive, she kept her one hand on yours, still pressed to the center of her chest. The other hand pulled you in close, now placing your head against her heart so you could hear it. She rubbed your back slowly, trying to not overstimulate you any further. “That’s right amor, you’re doing so good,” Alexia continued to encourage you as slowly your desperate breathing turned to silent crying.

Eventually you spoke up as you became more aware of the situation. “I never wanted you to see that part of me,” you sobbed into your girlfriend, still entirely filled with shame over what she had just witnessed. It scared you so much. Surely this would make your girlfriend hate you. It should. You were awful to your parents. Granted they were equally awful to you, if not worse. And it had gone like this your entire life, you had no patience left for it. But it was no excuse. You didn’t deserve someone like Alexia. Someone who loved her family. And would surely hate you for how you felt about yours.

Placing both hands on your face, your girlfriend forced you to look at her. “You never have to hide yourself from me. Never. You can talk to me, I promise.” Alexia was almost struggling to hold in her own tears at this point, her voice cracking on the last word. Seeing you like this, so broken, absolutely destroyed her. You just nodded slightly, not believing her words, as tears continued down your face. She pulled you back into her tightly, continuing to provide comfort. You tried to focus on the sound of her heart and the feeling of her hand running through your hair. The longer she held you, the more you were pulled from your thoughts of what had gotten you to this point.

Once your breathing had become more normal, Alexia tentatively pulled back to look at you, “why don’t we go sit on the couch?” she asked softly, hoping that a new spot would further pull you out of the headspace you seemed to be so stuck in. “I’ll get you a glass of water? We can talk about it if you want or we can just throw a movie on?” All you could do was nod, tears still pooling in your eyes. Alexia was so perfect to you. You could never deserve someone like her. Not when your life was such a mess. The blonde stood up slowly, reaching for your hands as she did so. She pulled you into another tight hug once you were both standing before leading you to the couch. Once you were settled there with your favorite blanket, Alexia went to get you some water and a small snack, knowing it was your favorite.

You felt numb as you waited for your girlfriend to return. Your mind was somehow both racing and empty. It was clear you needed to tell Alexia about your conversation, if you could call it that, with your parents. She deserved to know the truth about your family and you knew it was the only way you’d be able to make sense of the thoughts. Talking was your only way out of your head and Alexia admired how well you were able to communicate your feelings. It also helped her to know where your head was at and how she needed to be helping you.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t even notice your girlfriend returning to you. She sat close to you, leaving it up to you if you wanted to snuggle into her further. After drinking some water, you were much calmer than before, effectively blocking all your feelings from your mind for the time being.

Alexia knew you well enough to know this was not how you coped with stress. Blocking out your feelings would make you spiral even worse and both of you knew it. No matter how much you didn’t want to let her into that side of your life, you knew it was your only option. “Amor, talk to me. You know you can tell me anything,” she offered gently, trying her best not to push you into anything. Even though she hid it well, she was desperate to know what was going on, what could have caused you to lose yourself so quickly. It wasn’t like you. It made her nervous.

Your response broke your girlfriend’s heart even further, “Your opinion of me won’t change, right?” you avoided her eyes, looking terrified of what her answer might be. She could barely even hear you, you were quieter than she’d ever heard you speak before.

“Nothing could change my opinion of you,” she squeezed your hand tightly, trying to make her words sink in. “I love you, remember? I just want to help you” You had nodded slightly, but Alexia knew you weren’t really taking in her sentiment. “Prometo, mi amor. I am here for you. No matter what.”

Taking a deep breath, you tried to find your voice again, but couldn’t do it. It was clear that you needed to explain everything to your girlfriend as she sat in front of you, looking at you with eyes full of hope, full of love. The words you were going to speak would surely make her realize that you did not share the same family values that she thought you did. How were you supposed to just say something when it was obviously going to change how she looked at you forever?

Part 2

Feedback and requests are always welcome! :)

Masterlist

#barca femeni #barcelona femeni #woso imagines #fcb femini #woso one shot #woso #espwnt #espwnt x reader #woso x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #sefutbol fem #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso soccer #wosoreading24/7 #wosoreadingalexia

677 notes · View notes

yesimwriting · 3 months

Note

in ur bestfriend!felix series do you think farleigh cares for the reader even if it’s just a little bit? like we all know how he can be (#1 shit stirrer) but it really got me thinking!! i don’t think he cared much when she first started hanging out with felix he was probably like ‘whatever just another one of his charity cases’ but would that change later on when he sees how felix really does care for her and she’s not going anywhere anytime soon or ever possibly sorry for the long rant!! i was rereading and the one u wrote were he refused to let her get high because of felix made me think 😭🫶

a/n omg me and @ker0senebunny were just discussing their dynamic potential

farleigh and reader have such potential for an oddly endearing frenemy arch,, they definitely still bully each other, but they bond over gossiping and (lightly, at least in reader's case) judging others, especially after farleigh finally realizies that reader isn't another one of felix's phases

also can def see them growing a smidge protective of each other?? like if farleigh makes a mean joke about reader they laugh,, but if someone else makes it they both kind of side eye each other 😭

anyways here’s a drabble that also briefly features slightly flustered felix and socially unsure ollie

"Here." Farleigh's standing in front of your spot on the couch, arm stretched forward lazily. You blink, eyeing what looks like a joint skeptically.

Farleigh isn't quite looking at you as he continues to hold out his offering, but he isn't moving away. You extend a hand, taking it from him cautiously. Smoking tonight wasn't really a goal, but you're not exactly feeling against it.

You sit up a little straighter, mentally debating if his attempt at socializing with you is a result of the small scale setting of tonight's plans or if he's just that high. Maybe it's both. "Thought I was on weed probation."

He sighs. "Do you want it or not?"

You tilt your chin up to frown at him, "Moody."

Farleigh's eyes finally meet yours. His scleras are tinged pink, making his gaze seem far off and slightly irritated. You bring the joint to your lips out of the instinctual desire to seem amicable. Farleigh's far from your best friend, but recently, there's been an undertone of understanding in your catty comments. More like Farleigh laughing with you than at you.

He steps past your legs before sitting next to you. Not the weirdest thing that's ever happened to you, but still, strange. Normally, on more low key nights like this, when it's just some of Felix's closer friends hanging around in an off campus apartment instead of a full fledged rager, Farleigh's close to the center of the action. Maybe he's more bothered by Oliver's presence than you thought.

After a beat of silence, Farleigh explains flatly, "It's different tonight." You're not sure you're following, but there's a good chance that Farleigh's high enough for it not to matter. "You're not drunk and tonight's...calmer, there's nothing for Felix to worry himself sick over."

You roll your eyes. "Felix doesn't get worried sick over me." You take another hit of the joint, pretending the gesture doesn't feel performative. "And either way, it's not his issue."

Farleigh scoffs. "Please."

"Please what?"

He leans forward, propping his head up on one elbow. "Sometimes you seem so smart, it's nice to know that in some ways you're still like a little kid."

Not the worst backhanded compliment he's ever hit you with. "Mhm."

Farleigh lets himself slump against the couch before extending a hand in your direction. A silent request. You hand him back the joint. "Oh, you're cold? Take my jacket. You're thirsty? I've already gotten you a water. You're tired? Give me a minute to say goodbye to some friends and then I'll tuck you in, lovie."

The general teasing is easy to dismiss until he tacks on Felix's favorite nickname for you. It doesn't feel right to hear it in a negative context. "Leave him alone. Felix is my friend and he's nice." You tap your fingers against your knee, body feeling much too relaxed for the annoyance that wants to break through. "It's not weird or anything."

Farleigh takes his time letting more smoke fill his lungs. "Defensive." You roll your eyes. "Look around, every girl here wishes Felix was that friendly with them." His sentence is a hint too loud for you to be comfortable. The last thing you need is for some girl to take it the wrong way and blame you for it. "His new lapdog probably feels the same."

It takes you a second longer than it should to get the reference. You're not exactly close with Oliver. He's new, and Felix really enjoys his company, but you've yet to bond with him. Something in you just hasn't been able to get there yet. Sometimes you'll see what Felix sees in him, but that isn't the same as feeling close to him. You want to like him, though, so you're sure it's only a matter of time before you click over something. Felix and you spend too much time together for it not to work out between you and Oliver eventually.

"That's mean." You turn to better face Farleigh, your shoulder sinking against the seat's cushioning at an uncomfortable angle. "Like really mean."

Part of the defense is instinctual. You're not one to make fun of people behind their backs just to act like you're friends in front of them. But it's also more than that. Felix wouldn't let anyone talk about you like that, and without him or Oliver there to fight against Farleigh's snark, it feels wrong to let that kind of thing go.

"Fine. Better analogy. Sometimes the way Oliver looks at Felix feels like he wants to be his escort, or something."

You understand what Farleigh's getting at almost immediately. There's this urge to please quality about Oliver that you can't judge him for. People want Felix to like them. People want Felix to love them. It's not a draw you'd ever fault anyone for falling for. But something about the concept of an 'escort' in this context makes you want to laugh. You bite your tongue.

Farleigh holds out the joint again. You take it back instinctually, taking a quick hit to avoid having to say anything right away. "Yeah, but isn't that everyone with Felix?"

You're not sure what the goal of your response is. A poor attempt at changing the subject and steering the conversation away from making fun of someone with no one there to defend them without alienating Farleigh entirely. It's a joke, and not a very good one, but with the way you and Farleigh start cracking up, no one would ever be able to tell.

"We're..." You try through a fit of giggles, "We're awful."

"No," Farleigh shakes his head once lazily, "Not awful. We're familial bonding."

You squint at him as he plucks the joint from between your fingers. "We're not related."

Farleigh brings the joint to his lips, taking a deep inhale. "No," he mumbles, "I'm just getting ahead of the inevitable."

It takes you a beat longer than it should to understand his reference. "Farleigh." He's smiling slightly, the look smug. "Felix and I are just friends. You know that."

His head falls against the back of the couch. "Does anyone ever get along with their in-laws?"

You steal the joint from him before letting your back hit the cushioning. "Shut up."

With your body angled forward, you can see the center of the living room. Felix is near the entrance to the kitchen, Oliver by his side.

When Felix's eyes land on yours, he grins. You smile back before finally bringing the joint back to your lips. By the time you're exhaling, you can see Felix nudging Oliver's shoulder.

"Here we go," Farleigh sighs, taking back the joint.

You ignore the comment in favor of tracking Felix's path across the room. The world parts for him, as always.

"Hi." You beam, stretching a hand forward as soon as Felix is within reach. He grabs your hand immediately, squeezing your palm against his. "Felix, Oliver."

Oliver nods once at the acknowledgement, "Hey."

Felix tugs on your arm gently. "Lovie, where've you been?" His thumb brushes against your knuckles. "Been looking for you."

"I've been here," you admit, "I was waiting for you guys to get back with everyone's drinks and then Annabel wanted to sit...and then Farleigh."

Felix nods as if you've said is something of great importance. "Farleigh treating you okay?"

Farleigh tilts his head, halfheartedly glaring at Felix. You grin. "Yeah, we're just chatting."

"Chatting," he muses, looking between you and Farleigh. Before you can respond, Felix is moving to sit, taking up the last of the couch's remaining space. He looks up at Oliver, noting the lack of room for a fourth person. Felix squeezes our hand. "Sit with me?"

You nod, instantly understanding what he's getting at. You're sure Farleigh will hold you leaving your spot to give Oliver the opportunity to sit next to him against you, but there's not much else you can do, so you stand.

Felix is pulling you towards him before you can fully register the fact that you're standing. You frown, an attempt at a wordless scolding. He beams at you, the picture of affectionate innocence.

As soon as you're sitting on his lap, he's setting one hand on your knee and the other on your shoulder. Felix is always warm in the same way. There's a soothingness to it, a familiarity that you can always trust.

Oliver doesn't move until Felix's hand drifts away from your leg to pat the now open spot on the couch. Farleigh leans back slightly to make it easier to throw you a look that seems to say that Oliver's proving his earlier point.

You don't generally find Farleigh's snideness funny. You're not in the habit at laughing at his comments or behaving differently in hopes of winning him over. But, there's something about the solidarity of the look paired with your high. You laugh.

"What?" Felix asks, leaning forward to rest his chin against your shoulder.

You shake your head. "Nothing." A pinch of guilt nips at you. "I'm--I'm high."

"Could tell." Felix grins, dipping his head forward to press a kiss against the start of your back. "Farleigh's a terrible influence, hard to imagine what the two of you were up to before me and Ollie got here."

Maybe it's the lingering guilt, or maybe it's because Oliver's been almost completely silent since he got here and you know what it's like to be that person. You don't know what it is, but something makes you want to look over at Oliver. "Don't know, what do you think we were up to, Oliver?"

"Oh," he starts, tapping a finger against the edge of his solo cup as if something about your sudden attention startled him. "Up to no good, 'm sure."

You smile. Oliver and you may not be close, but at least he doesn't have an issue with carrying on a bit. Some of Felix's friends do. The first time Felix left you alone at one of these things, you made the mistake of making a joke in front of a girl who just stared at you.

"Little faith," you accuse with a shake of your head that indicates a disappointment your smile doesn't match.

"We were talking about inevitability."

Felix turns his head to look at Farleigh, "And what's inevitable?"

Your nails press into the skin of your leg. Some instinct tells you to beat Farleigh to the punch. "Oh, our wedding, apparently."

Felix tenses. "Wh--what?"

"To Farleigh," you clarify as quickly as possible, "I promise I'm not planning on proposing any time soon, so you can relax."

His hand finds your knee again. "Right," Felix sighs through a dry laugh, "Cause I--" Felix pauses, his forehead falling to your shoulder. "Farleigh...he'll say anything when high, it's..." He scoffs.

You turn your head with no warning. Felix's head slips off your shoulder. He pouts. "So the thought of being married to me is that bad?"

"No." He stretches out the vowel sound in an attempt to buy himself some time. "I--" He leans in closer, eyes flitting away from you and towards your lap. "I didn't--not like--"

You laugh. "I'm making fun of you, Lex." His skin is still slightly flushed, a pink tinge to his cheeks that's almost masked by the low lighting. "Y'can relax."

Felix's lips part in mock offense. "Lovie." He leans his head forward, hiding his face against the side of your neck.

You giggle, lifting a hand to brush your fingers through his hair. "I know, I'm mean."

"Very." He's quiet for a moment, head resting against you even though the angle can't be comfortable. "It wouldn't be bad." Felix whispers the sentence so quickly and quietly you almost feel like you've imagined them.

Before you can respond, Felix lifts his head slightly, setting his chin back on your shoulder. "Me and Ollie were talking about leaving early, watching that movie you rented." He squeezes your arm, the gesture warm. "If you want to."

"Yeah," you grin, "Sounds fun."

----

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains

#bestfriend!felix #bestfriend!felix x reader #felix x reader #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #felix catton #jacob elordi #jacob elordi x reader

354 notes · View notes

lovries · 2 years

Text

A LOVE EPIPHANY

featuring. the demon brothers (lucifer, mammon, leviathan, satan, asmodeus, beelzebub, belphegor).

summary. they're so confused— you're sudden avoiding them/acting super shy! well, they don't seem to realize it's because you figured out you've got a crush on them!

warning. gn! reader, not proofread, levi on the verge of an anxiety attack, physical affection (asmodeus).

꒰ ♡ ꒱ ─── LUCIFER

"Lucifer? You called for me?" You couldn't meet his gaze, stepping into his room apprehensively. Your stomach was already churning, your heart doing flips. It was plain and simple, you had a crush on Lucifer. Of course, after figuring this out, you couldn't help but grow shy around him, trying to avoid him when you can. And he noticed.

"I did, come in." Closing the door behind you, you make your way to the front of him, shifting your weight from foot to foot. "You're not in trouble, no need to be so nervous." He teased, however you only tensed further. He had no idea at all, it seemed, that you were nervous for a completely different reason.

"Uhm, what did you need then?" Lucifer sighs when you don't look at him. Seriously, what had gotten into you? Were you mad at him? Had he done something you didn't like? He just couldn't figure it out!

"Well, I suppose there's no need to beat around the bush," He says, clearing his throat, his fingers clasping together, "Have I done something to upset you, Y/n? I've noticed... well, your behavior has been quite strange as of late. if I can fix whatever it was, please let me know. Everyone would like your time here in the Devildom to be as comfortable as possible."

Internal screaming. You're internally screaming. He noticed that you've been acting shy as of late, and he thinks it's because you're mad at him!? You groan, hiding your burning face in your hands.

"Uhm, I- I'm not mad at you, so don't worry..." Lucifer furrows his brows. If you're not mad at him then why...

Oh.

Lucifer couldn't help the small smirk that tugged on the corner of his lips. "I see," He clears his throat, hoping to cover up the chuckle that wants to escape. "Very well, you may leave now." Before you fully leave though, Lucifer makes on last comment. "Ah, and Y/n... Please do wear formalwear this Saturday."

"W... What for?"

"I'll be making a reservation at Ristorante Six." He finished with a wink, grinning at the way you seemed to short-circuit.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ ─── MAMMON

You've been locking your door, going to bed early, taking a different route home, avoiding where he works. At first Mammon tried to brush it off as just a coincidence or that you were just in a crappy mood, but then he realized... He's the only one you're avoiding! And damn it, but you're so good at avoiding him, no matter how hard he tries to talk to you, you manage to slip away each time.

"Oi! Y/n!" Mammon grinned at finally catching you in the hallways of RAD. He was accompanied with Asmo, who couldn't help but watch in amusement as your eyes nearly popped out of your head before you took off. "Wha- Hey! Get back 'ere you- Ugh..." You were too far gone, and Mammon was too sad to chase you.

"My, my, dear older brother, it seems someone is shy around you," Asmo giggled, only for Mammon to sigh and slump forward.

"Yeah, I just don't know whyyy." He drags out the sentence with a whine, "I didn't even do anythin' this time- uh, I don't think so anyways?" He glances over at Asmo he's stifling a giggle. Seriously, Asmo knew his brother was dense, but this badly? Jeez, Asmo guesses he'll help him out just this once.

"Listen closely, okay?" Mammon nods, leaning in, a serious and concentrated look on his face. "Y/n," Mammon nods again, listening intently, "Likes you."

Mammon can only stare at Asmodeus as he tries to process this new information, before he's obnoxiously gasping and flailing around. "A- Are ya serious? Ya better not be lyin' to me, ya understand? I- I gotta go!" Mammon nearly trips over himself, taking off in the direction that you went. Asmo rolls his eyes, but he's happy for his brother.

Meanwhile, you think you've finally found a safe spot from Mammon. It's not that you want to avoid him, but you can't stand the sick feeling in your stomach when you get around him, or how your brain can't think straight, or how sweaty your hands get! You just want it to go back to how it was, when you were oblivious to your feelings.

You jump when the door slams open, and you look over to see a very out of breath Mammon. "I," he heaves, "I finally found ya." Seems like there is no where to run this time.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ ─── LEVIATHAN

Whilst you tried not to avoid Leviathan, mostly because you knew he'd have a panic attack and would begin degrading himself senseless, you knew your attitude around him shifted. Instead of being your usual self, you've grown incredibly shy and self conscious, and all because you had to realize your feelings.

Like now, it's incredibly awkward as you two sit in silence. You were doing well at hiding your shyness when Leviathan had to reach over you to grab a snack— suddenly you had cringed away from him. Levi faltered, and tried not to immediately blame himself. Maybe you were so immersed in the show? But it wasn't long until he was blaming himself.

"I- I'm sorry," Leviathan finally whimpers out, "I understand if you don't wanna be here with me anymore— it must suck being stuck with a y- yucky otaku like me, huh?" He's mumbling out other self-deprecating words, and you can't stand to hear them.

"Levi," you timidly call out, fiddling with your fingers, glancing over at him. When he doesn't respond, you call his name out a little louder. He doesn't respond again, instead he's stopping the movie and pacing the floor, lost in his thoughts.

"Y- You've actually been really weird lately too, like distant and quiet, i- is it because you're finally sick of me? I'm sorry, you d- deserve better, you don't have to pretend to be my friend anymore, I- I-"

"Leviathan!" You finally manage to gather the courage to yell his name, and he comes to a still, looking at you in shock. If he wasn't so surprised at you yelling at him, he's sure there'd be tears in his eyes. With shaky hands he wrings his own wrists.

"Y... Yeah?"

"Listen, I..." A lump forms in your throat, but you try to ignore it. "I don't hate you or anything, I want to keep being your friend, I promise." He seems to relax a little, although still anxious. "I didn't mean to flinch, you just... surprised me? I can't really tell you but... Just trust me, I- I don't hate you."

It's quiet for a few minutes, before he's sitting in his spot next to you again. "Okay... I don't know... I don't know what's going on with you but... I'll trust you." He gives you a soft, nervous smile, and if you had been weaker, you're sure you would've passed out at how cute he was.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ ─── SATAN

It was cute... At first. Satan wasn't entirely sure why you had grown shy around him, but he did enjoy teasing you and seeing you grow more flustered than usual. It was nice, until he realized you could barely form a sentence around him. He missed having intellectual conversations, deep conversations that could range into the early hours of the morning. Now he's more annoyed at your reservedness.

Satan watches as you fumble over your words, barely getting a sentence out. You startle when he clears his throat, glancing over at him. Despite figuring out you had a massive crush on Satan, you tried your hardest to still hold conversations with him... but it was just so hard! You kept getting distracted by his stupidly attractive face, or you'd slip into daydreams of more romantic interactions with him (which you'd then get embarrassed about because he's literally right there).

"I've been thinking," Satan begins, "You've been shy lately. Is it possibly because there's something you want to tell me?" He guesses he's right when he notices the way your shoulders tense. "You know, you can tell me whatever it is, I won't judge you." Of course you knew he wouldn't judge you, still... it was hard to confess you liked him— You barely even began to grasp it yourself!

"It's nothing, r- really..." You're playing with the hem of your shirt, your face growing warm. You imagine what it'd be like to confess to him right now, would he accept your feelings? If he did, he'd surely whisk you off your feet! Ah, just the thought if making your heart flutter! You giggle to yourself, lost in thought, when Satan clears his throat and you jump out of your daydream.

"I promise!" You say, almost a little too defensively. "It's... It's really nothing," The room only seems to get warmer as he leans in further, his face only a mere few inches from yours. He's inspecting you, trying to see if you're lying. And if he deems it so or not, he doesn't tell you. He pulls back and sighs.

"I'll trust you for now..." You let out a silent breath of relief. You'll have to either start hiding your crush better, or plan on confessing soon.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ ─── ASMODEUS

This was hard. Having a crush on Asmodeus is hard. Prior to you realizing your crush on him, you never minded his extra affection— the way he'd hug you when he saw you, or the way he'd casually hold your hand whilst walking, or the way he'd lean in real close and put an arm around your shoulder, or the way he'd pull you in to dance with him— all of his usual actions, they all began to fluster you more and more.

"A- Asmo!" You squeak as he wraps his arms around your waist and nuzzle into your back. He giggles, only tightening his hold around you.

"You're not getting away from me this time!" He coos teasingly. Asmodeus has most definitely taken notice to the way you've been pulling away from his touch, but that only made him double down on his actions. "You're starting to hurt my feelings, you know?" He pouts, loosening his grip so you can turn around. Staring down at his little pout only worsens the condition of your rapidly beating heart.

"Asmodeus," You sigh, putting your hands on his arms and gently prying him away. "It's just... This kind of affection... i- it's usually reserved for... lovers," you whisper the last part, ignoring your warm cheeks. "It's embarrassing."

This only furthers his pout, and he backs away from you with crossed arms. "Hmph, you didn't find it embarrassing before! What changed, hm?"

Geez, he really had no clue...

You thought his vanity would make him guess it in seconds, but it seems not. You look the other way, unable to meet his inquisitive eyes. "Let's just drop it..." You mumble. His gaze was so intense, you were beginning to feel almost naked under his eyes.

Asmo lets out a loud, obnoxious sigh, "Fine. But we will be circling back to it later!" He takes your hand and giggles at your shock. "Geez, you're acting like you have a crush on me or something," Your stomach drops, although it doesn't take you long to realize he was joking... "C'mon, I just got some new nail polish in the mail, I wanna test them out~"

꒰ ♡ ꒱ ─── BEELZEBUB

It honestly took Beelzebub a long time to figure out you were acting different. It wasn't until he saw the look on your face when he had offered you some of his snack that he realized something was off about you.

"Hmm... Have you noticing something different about them?" Beel asked, looking over at Belphegor (who had been napping peacefully until he was interrupted). Belphie groaned, forcing himself to sit up and look over at you. You were a bit further away, working on a project with Mammon.

"Uh... No? They seem like their usual annoying self. Why?" Belphie slumps against Beel, and Beel sighs in frustration as he shoves some chips in his mouth.

"It just seems like... they're avoiding me... maybe... or something, ugh, I don't know." Belphie frowned. Whatever it was, it was really irritating Beel, which mean it was now annoying Belphie.

"If it's bothering you that much, then just ask'em." Beel scratches his head, his frown only growing.

"That's the thing! Whenever I try to talk to them, they get all quiet and kinda jittery." It then dawns on Belphie what exactly is happening. Ah, you've finally realized your giant crush on Beel, have you? Belphie snickers, causing Beel to furrow his brows. What was he laughing at? "Do you know what's happening?"

"I have an idea." Belphie yawns, stretching out before slumping back down. "Let me know when ya figure it out, okay?" Beel wants to ask what he means, but Belphie is already fast asleep. Seems like Beel won't figure it out anytime soon.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ ─── BELPHEGOR

Belphegor is beyond annoyed— his favorite pillow is gone! Whatever's made you so shy and squirmy is really beginning to irk him. He's just trying to sleep but you keep wiggling about and kicking up a fuss. He groans, and a part of him wants to sink his nails into your thigh and keep you still... but he refrains.

"Why are you being more bothersome than usual?" Belphie finally grumbles out, rolling over to look up at you. "Well? Spit it out, so I can put a stop to it and you can go back to doing what you do best; being my pillow."

If only he knew that he was the problem. He'd probably tell you to stop being dumb and throw a pillow at your face. You sigh, anxiously playing with his hair. He purrs at the touch, his eyelids dropping, he almost fell asleep, almost- until you were squirming around again!

"Alright," He forces himself to sit up, glaring at you. "Tell me. Now." What a brat. You question why you like him, only to be reminded that you do, and grow shy.

"It's nothing..." You mumble under your breath, but clearly Belphie isn't going to be satisfied with just that.

"Nothing? Nothing is making me lose precious hours of sleep?" You open your mouth to speak, only to close it. He blinks once, then twice, before shaking his head. "You... You're... Look, I won't tease you, so just tell me."

You debate it, you really do, but you just can't seem to find the courage to actually get the words out. Wringing your wrists, you try to force the lump in your throat to go away. "I'll try to be still..."

Not the answer he wanted, but he can see how reluctant you are to share, and (begrudgingly) decides not to push it (because then you might leave him)!

"Fine, whatever..." He'll be bringing it up later though; He'll figure out the reason for your sudden shyness whether you like it or not!

﹙ thank you for reading! have a wonderful day! ﹚

4K notes · View notes

crownofgildedlilies · 27 days

Text

knowin' that it probably isn't true -> cool about it [4]

in which: a son of jupiter can't remember the life he lost to time and circumstance. or the daughter of mercury he lost, too.

pairing: jason grace x daughter of mercury!roman!reader

warnings: cursing, angst, slight panic attack?

word count: 5.3k

a/n: how can this possibly be the final part. like what? also, it's been forever since I've read the ending go heroes of Olympus so I cannot for the life of me remember how canon accurate this is.

one two three [four]

There was one rule Jason was always willing to break.

For you, he had murmured into the side of your head, just above your ear, as he pulled you close the first night it had happened. You hadn't been able to help the roll of your watery, red-rimmed eyes. Or the skip of your heart.

Big declaration, Jase, you had fired back, pretending your voice wasn't shaking, that you hadn't made a much bigger declaration by seeking him out after curfew.

Leave it to the daughter of thieves to break and enter into the praetor's private room.

The first night it happened, you had gotten a rather stiff and formal letter from your mother, explaining why it was simply the better choice for you to stay at camp over the holidays. In front of everyone, you had kept it together.

Alone in your bunk, you broke down.

It was an easy decision, then, to go find Jason. A natural instinct, practically, was leading you through the bunkhouse on silent, swift feet despite the tears staining your face. When you had slipped into Jason's room, he had bolted awake.

You were prepared for a lecture. Instead, he just opened his arms.

So there was one rule that Jason Grace was willing to break.

Curfew.

You were careful not abuse your privilege, only searching him out when needed.

And right now, he was needed.

Your feet carried you soundlessly through the corridors, your heart hammering in your chest and bottom lip caught between your teeth, almost bloody with worry. The dream had been fast, uncontrollable, terrifying.

Not once had you ever bothered knocking on his door, and you didn't start now, twisting the knob and careful to only open it as much as you needed to slip through, because if you went any wider the hinges would squeak and Reyna could only overlook so much.

The sight of him, asleep in bed, hair tousled and face almost peaceful, was nearly enough to settle you. But then flashes of your dream came back, and you knew you needed more.

Easing the door shut, you made sure the latch clicked in place as silently as you could manage. The absolute last thing you needed was some nosy Lar floating by seeing you breaking the rules alongside Jason.

The teasing would never end.

Despite praetor's getting the privilege of having their own rooms, they remained in standard issue sized bunks. Which meant that you couldn't help but press against him as you climbed under the covers, body already half-hanging over the far edge. The movement of the mattress jostled him awake, like always, and he slowly blinked his tired eyes open.

You remained silent as he got his bearings, bottom lip caught between your teeth to keep from spilling out the gory details of your desperation to see him before he even realized what was happening.

He twisted, copying your position of laying on his side, one arm curled underneath his head to prop it up just slightly.

"Hey, you," Jason mumbled, voice still thick with sleep. He stretched slightly, using the movement to reach out and brush his thumb across your cheek, as if he was checking for tears he couldn't see in the dim room. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Sleeping was the problem," You shook your head, kicking your leg forwards under the blanket to knock against his, just the barest excuse to touch him and confirm he was real and alive and laying before you.

"Nightmare?" Like he ever needed to ask. So few things got you worked up enough to risk getting caught sneaking into his room.

"Mhm," You hummed, anyway, eyes tracing the barest outline of his face visible to you in the dark of the room. The moon provide some light through the window, but you had Jason's features memorized from the time you were fourteen.

"What was it about, this time?" He asked, and you wished you could hate him for the way he sounded genuinely concerned and like he wanted to know. The pounding in your heart as he knocked his leg forwards against yours, a mimic of your own actions seconds earlier, would be easier to deal with.

"You." Without cracking, you managed to force the word out at a volume barely audible in the otherwise silent room. Your stare was focused on his chin, because you couldn't meet his eyes as you confessed, and his nose was too close to his eyes, and looking at his lips made you want to do something incredibly stupid.

His chin was neutral territory, even if you wanted to kiss there, too.

"Me?" He sounded like he didn't understand, which you gave him grace for. Yes, your nightmare was about him, but not because of anything he did, so much as what happened to him. Not the first of its kind, but after the fight with Krios, it stung a little deeper.

"You went on a quest, without me, again." Your murmured, gaze still fixed on his chin. He stayed silent, knowing you better than you knew yourself, knowing that you needed him to wait for you to find the right words. "And... and you didn't come back to me, Jase, you had promised, but you didn't—"

Your shudder took you by surprise, eyes squeezed shut tight to try and fight the stinging quickly growing there, your lungs burning with the effort to contain your sobs. You tried all your usual tricks to keep from crying. Counting silently, deep breaths through your nose, hands squeezing into fists so tight your nails cut crescent shaped marks into the heel of your palms leaking the slightest bit of blood.

It didn't work. The image of a broken, ruined Jason returned to you at the edge of camp burned into your memory. You knew it had been a dream, that he hadn't actually died, but the thought—

"This is stupid." You huffed, voice watery and tight and so incredibly pathetic you half expected Jason to strip you of your title of centurion. It was all so very un-Roman of you. "I'm too old to be crying over bad dreams."

"Hey," Jason murmured, voice gentle, and it worked in combination with his warm hands wrapping over yours to calm the tempest that was raging in your mind enough for you to open your eyes. His handsome face was twisted in concern, in understanding, and the tears welled up in your eyes all the bit faster. "I'd be a wreck, too, if I dreamt that I lost you."

Why can't he just say the words, you lamented bitterly in your mind. Why can't I say them, either?

"I hate crying." You managed to force out after a few beats of silence, broken only by your pitiful sniffles trying to keep the tears from finally falling down your cheeks and staining the pillow you shared with Jason.

"I know," His voice was soothing, gentle, and you let him manipulate your hand until he had your open palm splayed, pressed against his chest, his own covering the back of yours to keep you from pulling away. Not that you ever did anything but crawl impossibly closer to him each day.

You were Jason's and Jason was yours, but never in so many words.

"Feel that?" His quiet question startled you from your mind, the terrible sleep-created images replaying on a loop. Reyna apologizing for not protecting him, the weight of his golden coin pressing heavily into the center of your palm.

You're the only one he would have wanted to have that, Reyna had said in your dream when she handed off the magic weapon. And if something ever really did happen to him, you couldn't help but morbidly think that he really would want you to have it—

"Don't leave me here, now." Jason, real Jason, the one living and breathing and holding your hand against his chest—right over his heart, you realized with the sudden jolt. The beat was steady under the tips of your fingers, and you closed your eyes to focus on the rhythm, to try and match your shallow breaths to his deep and even ones. "There. Welcome back, solider."

"We can't be soldiers right now." You shook your head, eyes still shut but voice almost back to normal. And though you knew Jason didn't understand it, he didn't question.

You couldn't be solders. You couldn't be only little heroes destined to fight and bleed and die at the whim of others, of gods with self-imposed rules keeping them from helping their own children. Being soldiers had been what had ruined your dream, that had sent you racing through the dark to find him. Soldiers weren't lovers. Soldiers didn't hold each other.

Jason was trained to be a soldier. But maybe, with you, he could learn to be other things.

"Thank you," You murmured, voice almost silent as you peaked open your eyes. You had known Jason had moved closer to you, had heard his cheek brushing against the pillow you shared and felt the heat from his skin warm yours, but you hadn't anticipated the blow to your chest you received when you opened your eyes and found him close enough to taste, if you had been born into a braver body.

"After my little stunt on the War Games field with Damien last week? I figured I owed you." He teased, and the absurdity of Jason Grace finding it in himself to make such a casual joke after you had climbed into his bed mid-panic attack had a lopsided grin work its way onto your face.

"Shut up." You wanted to lean forward and press your lips against his skin, but you held back. You always held back, but only when it came to Jason. Most of your bunkmates had vocalized that they wished you had the capacity to control yourself more. "How many times have you kept me out of the brig?"

"Fair point," He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest and reminding you that your palm was still pressed against the cotton of his sleep shirt.

As much as it pained you, you slipped your hand out of his, but something took control of you and changed direction. Originally, you had planned on tucking your fist underneath your own chin, cocooning yourself in your own arms and trying to justify staying a little bit longer.

What ended up happening was your hand falling to rest on Jason's cheek, thumb brushing over the pearly white line of his scar. The tips of your fingers tingled, might have even shook, as they touched his lips.

All the humor was sucked from the room with your gentle declaration of such intimacy. Sure, you and Jason had long since passed through each other's barriers of personal space. Neither one of you exactly had nurturing childhoods and found relentless comfort in the other.

Touch starved, someone had once explained it as. Two people making up for lost time and a need to feel loved and held. Jason was the only one you let into your space, and as far as you knew you were the only one Jason wrapped himself around. The thought of him locking pinkies with someone besides you made you queasy and tossed you back into the moment, your palm on his cheek and his eyes on yours.

It was almost too much. You hoped he couldn't hear your heart hammering in your chest, feeling as if it was about to burst with how much you loved him.

You loved everything about him. From his smiles to his dedication and his innocent charm. To the way he fought like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders, because it did, and how he let you break the rules in his bed because he knew you better than you could ever hope to know yourself, sometimes.

"I bet it was a wolf bite." You murmured into the quiet, words tumbling past your lips before you could even think of what you were saying.

"Hm?" He must not have expected your words, because he hummed questioningly, sounding half-distracted but your touch lingering on his skin. The idea of distracting Jason Grace made you smile. It felt like an achievement.

"Your scar," You clarified, still tracing it with the pad of your thumb. his skin was warm and soft and it helped ease your remaining nerves to hold him so gently after the gruesome horror show of your nightmare. "I bet it was a wolf bite."

Jason grinned, then. Wide and bright and if you hadn't seen him call down lightning personally, you would have thought Phoebus Apollo was his father from how much blinding sunshine radiated from him, even in the middle of the night, half-asleep.

"If Lupa bit me, I don't think the scar would be so small." He teased, knocking his forehead into yours gently. You snorted, closing your eyes as you leaned closer to him, trying to remain casual as his nose brushed against yours.

"Still, it's a good story." You hummed, shrugged slightly. Jason huffed a laugh, and you felt his breath on your skin, on your lips.

"Yeah, it's a good story." He agreed quietly, his own hand reaching up to hold your face, mimicking your position with a gentleness that made you question if you should ruin the only gentle thing to ever embrace you by slotting your mouth over his, over every inch of his face.

Instead, you moved your hand from his cheek to the back of his head, holding him as close as you could without being greedy.

You knew you'd have to leave soon, or else risk getting caught, and you couldn't do that to Jason.

But you let yourself have a few minutes. You never knew how many you'd ever have with him.

It was peaceful, if only for a moment.

It had only been war, for hours.

Your voice was shredded raw from shouting orders, rallying troops, keeping Romans from turning on Greeks like Octavian had wanted.

It was the final battle, you knew. The air tasted of it, of that heavy weight that came with saving the world. You had felt it when you had gone into battle against Krios to keep the Titans from rising, and you were sick with it, now.

This time, you didn't have Jason by your side, covering your weaknesses while you watched his. You didn't even have Reyna, anymore.

I need you to stay here, Reyna had ordered you when you had argued your case for joining her on her quest to the Ancient Lands after Jason and the others. Your desperation to accompany her went beyond a bone-deep ache to see Jason again; you were going absolutely crazy sitting around at the Roman encampments surrounding the Greek demigod camp, waiting for a battle you were certain shouldn't be taking place.

If I stay here, I'm going to kill Octavian. Or he'll get someone to kill me, you countered, and two weeks earlier you could have played it off as a joke. But Octavian had become drunk on power, had appointed himself to a rank higher than praetor, and was absolutely gunning for a reason to get rid of you, one way or another.

Don't let him, Reyna had said, as if it was ever that simple. I need someone here that I can trust. Jason needs you here, too.

Your frown had deepened, no matter how impossible it had seemed.

That was a low blow, you mumbled, pissed off and exhausted, only getting more pissed off and exhausted by your own shitty attitude.

Reyna had grimaced, but did you the favor of not pointing out that it had worked. You had stayed behind, had remained with your soldiers and dodged Octavian as much as you could, knowing how very weak the leash you held your anger on was. He was looking for any excuse to put you on trial. You couldn't give him one.

But that didn't mean you didn't do everything in your power to undermine Octavian's control.

The fighting that soon followed was inevitable.

You had known from the start that it was either going to be against the Greeks or the monsters, depending on how successful Jason and his new group of friends were. If they got back in time to unify the camps like Annabeth had promised Reyna they would, then the monsters would be feasible to take on.

But Octavian started the war early. Started against the Greeks, then was forced to split forces when the monsters began their assault, too.

The groundwork you had laid against Octavian was almost unnecessary as he doomed the Romans to fight an exhausting and expensive battle they could never win. It had been almost too easy for you to take control, to knock Octavian out with a single punch and order Roman troops to fight alongside the Greeks, to use them as another weapon against the monsters.

Defend their camp as if it is our own!, you had shouted through the roar of battle, perched on the highest point you could find—an upturned chariot. The fighting had paused at your words, Greeks and Romans alike trying to see which way the attacking army would sway.

One girl on the Greek side of the fight gave orders to her soldiers not to attack your Romans, just as the daughter of Ares had promised on the few nights you had snuck into her camp to discuss that very moment.

Clarisse La Rue had been all too willing to talk war with you, double agent against Octavian, you were.

Reyna and Nico arriving with the Athena Parthenos had only sealed the deal, but even with Greek and Roman forces combined the never-ending monster army was a force to be reckoned with. Gaea herself was even pulling you in, feet sucked into the earth to tire you out faster with each step.

By the time the flying trireme arrived, your exhaustion was bone deep and felt like the only substantial thing in your life.

It was a blur, from then on. Fighting still raged. Screams still tore through the air. Battle continued and stole and ached.

Then came the explosion.

One minute you were fighting for your life, prepared to enter into the next one, and then suddenly the world had stilled around you. Whatever monsters weren't falling under the swords and arrows of demigod heroes had turned and ran, and it was almost jarring how silent the battlefield got.

Or maybe you were just too tired to process any sound. You thought you could see Reyna's mouth moving, a few dozen feet in front of you, but all you heard was a low buzzing, the thrumming of your heart, as you searched the carnage.

You weren't sure if the Romans stopped to gawk at you because you were stumbling through the mess or because you were, against all odds, still standing. You had been on the front lines from the start, had led wave after wave of assault.

By all accounts, you should have been lost to the fight. But you never gave up all that easily.

You knew there still were a million and six things that remained to do before darkness fell. First and most important to you was organizing your legion, taking count of who had survived the battle. Mourning walked hand in hand with victory, and you were well acquainted with the pair.

Except, you only made it ten steps before you saw him.

Jason Grace had completely forgotten you. Despite his promises, his sweet words and even sweeter touches, he had forgotten you and all that you meant to him. He didn't know how he used to pinch your arm to keep you awake in your more boring classes. He didn't know that he used to swap plates with you at least once a week because you regretted what the Mess Hall sprites had brought you.

He didn't know how he brushed his hands through your hair when you got worked up, and he didn't remember what the touch of your skin on his felt like.

But he was heading straight towards you, as if the destruction around him could wait and all that mattered was you.

It was enough to root you to your spot. With shaking, brutalized fingers you took off your helmet. You meant to hold it under your arm against your hip, but suddenly Jason was within five feet of you with the most determined stare, and you barely registered it dropping to the ground.

You had counted the days since you had last seen him in Charleston. It had been too long and not long enough, because no matter how much you loved Jason with every inch of your being, it also hurt too great to have him in front of you and know he didn't remember how gently he had once used his thumbs to smooth the worry lines from between your knitted brows.

"Soldier—" You started, desperate to take control of the conversation, but he was speaking over you before you even finished the second syllable.

"It's not a wolf bite." His words were firm, almost pleading. But they were also so unexpected, so out of place, you jolted back half a step. He quickly made up for the space you tried putting between you both, halting only a few scant inches from the exhausted lines of your body.

"What?" You managed to gape, chin tilted to look up at him, face twisted in grief and confusion and hope so dangerous you contemplated the blow to your reputation if you turned and ran.

"The scar. Not a wolf bite." He clarified, and it took nearly everything in you to tear your stare from his to drag down his face and find the beloved mark on the corner of his lips, right where it had been since the moment you had met him. You had felt that bit of raised skin underneath the pad of your thumb more times than what could have been considered as just friendly, had made up stories for its existence just to distract yourself. "When I was two, I tried to eat a stapler."

"Jason," The sound that left your lips could almost have been mistaken for a laugh, if someone only plugged their ears and closed their eyes. It was a haunted, aching, desperate sound, mixed with a short exhale that had Jason leaning even closer to you, somehow.

"I just thought you'd want to know." He murmured, and you weren't sure if the warmth burning your skin was from the exertion of battle, the rays of sun beating against your cheek, or the intensity of Jason's stare on you.

Familiar. He looked... familiar. Maybe a little Greek, but he was still Roman. Still an unwavering force, one that had defeated a Titan and still had enough power to tear down his seat of power in search for your battered body, almost lost to the rubble.

He looked like he knew you.

"You… you remember?" Fingers curled into fists at your side, almost buzzing with emotions you could barely even begin to decipher. Everything was a knot inside of you; thoughts, feelings, strength. You'd given everything on the battlefield, but you had been running on fumes from the moment Jason had been stolen from you. It was nothing short of a miracle that you were still standing.

"I do, now." His nod sent a shuddering gasp through you, but still you couldn't get yourself to lift a hand out and reach him. You had already had this dream—this nightmare—so many times. What happened next would likely be his dismissing you. Or worse—you would wake up.

But Jason moved first, one hand you knew like your own raising to wipe a spot of grime off you cheek before cradling your head gently. It was all the permission you needed before your own hands notched under the sides of his armor, a familiar movement always used to tug him closer to you. Metal clanged together as his chest plate hit against yours, and though you suddenly loathed the equipment that had saved your life more times than you felt you deserved, you couldn't let go of Jason long enough to free yourself from it. That part would have to wait.

"Got hit on the head a few times, talked to a couple of gods. It all helped the pieces fall back together." He explained, and you pressed your knuckles into his sides as a silent reprimand for making fun of himself getting hurt. Tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision of Jason, and you bit the inside of your cheek so hard you tasted blood. A reprimand for yourself, too. "I'm so sorry."

"It wasn't your fault, Jase." You would have shaken your head, but you didn't want to move out of his hold for a second, and instead pressed your cheek tighter against his palm still holding the side of your jaw.

He looked ready to argue, but you flashed him a glare so fierce he thought better of it. You had been living in anger and fear for months. Having Jason back already helped, but it would take more than a few minutes for you to right yourself.

And you still stood on the battlefield.

"I remember that last argument we had." He knocked you back to reality in the gentle way only he ever knew how to do with you. Out of shame, you ducked your gaze to the ground, but he didn't let you hide. With the hand that wasn't on your jaw, thumb brushing reassuring strokes over your cheek, he held your nearly quivering chin between his index and his thumb. The way he tilted your head up to meet his stare was tender, but that had never been a question when it came to him. "Where I said there was nothing for us to do but be soldiers."

"Yeah," You were pretty sure you were speaking, but you couldn't focus on anything over the sound of your heartbeat roaring in your ears or the beautiful burn of his skin against yours.

"I was wrong." He admitted, but you knew what those words meant just the same as he knew that you would understand. "I remembered fragments of you. The sound of your laugh. How your hair shone in the summer sun."

"Sounds like you might be in love, or something." You tried for teasing but sounded like you had just been hit by a bus. Jason had only been back for a few scarce minutes and already was bulldozing you with his sweet words. If he hadn't just disappeared on you for upwards of seven months and came back to save the world, you would have threatened to kick his ass for disorientating you so much so quickly.

"Oh, I am." He grinned a little nervously, a little lopsided, and you couldn't wait any longer.

You moved first, hands darting from the sides of his armor to the sides of his face, palms flat against his skin as you tugged his head down you meet you while you pushed yourself up on your tip-toes to meet him halfway.

Kissing Jason was as inevitable as it was all-consuming. You had played dumb with Dakota whenever he brought it up, but deep down you had always belonged to Jason Grace, and he to you, from the moment he broke the rules to sit with you in that small, restricted stretch of grass when you were ten years old.

Your fingers knotted into the hair on the back of his head, grown out just enough during his time with the Greeks. You thought it suited him, and it was soft under your touch, and you mentally made a note to plead with him later to leave it alone. From the way he was kissing you like he would starve if he didn't, you had a feeling he'd agree easily.

He was warm and sweet and tasted like mint. He was everything you had imagined, everything you had never once dared to hope for. Strong hands and gentle touches, unyielding intelligence and unwavering kindness.

He was everything. Your everything.

Despite the weight of Jason's mouth on yours, you still were dimly aware of where you stood. The smell of smoke still lingered in the air, and no matter how close you pressed against Jason, you couldn't hide from the fact that you were a centurion and your legion needed you.

You had been left by almost everyone in your life, but never had letting someone go been as painful as it was to step back from Jason long enough to catch your breath and clear the fog from your mind that was a direct reaction to his touch.

"I've got to—" You shuddered, voice catching, but Jason nodded, knowing what you meant. Knowing you, knowing your mind, always. You almost shivered again at the reminder that he remembered. He knew what you were going to say, but you forced yourself to finish your thought so you could convince yourself it was real. "I've got to find my legion. Count survivors. Take stock of injuries. We've been—we've been fighting for hours."

You didn't want to leave him. You never had wanted to before, but after he had been stolen from you for so long? Now that he had confessed his love and kissed you like his life depended on it?

Now you were worried that the next time he left your side, he'd disappear again, no matter how unwillingly he went.

"Okay," Jason smoothed his thumbs across your cheeks, face ducked low towards yours as your hands fell to wrap loosely around his wrists, desperate to hold him in anyway you could. "Okay. We can do that."

"We?" You questioned, then immediately felt stupid for doing so. Of course, he meant we. It had always been the two of you against the world, and he had just gotten his memories of you back. There was no way he would let you out of his sight so soon.

"You told me the day we met that there was no getting rid of you." Jason reminded you, as if you could ever forget meeting him, as if the gods themselves had been able to keep him from remembering you. "I'm holding you to that promise."

Words failed you, but the way you surged forward to press your mouth to his in a quick, urgent kiss that you had dreamed about sharing with him for years, didn't.

"Just for the record, I love you too." You offered an exhausted imitation of a smile as you pulled away, finally dropping your touch from him. Because maybe you had Jason back, but you still weren't sure how many of your soldiers had been lost. Mourning and victory, always a solemn pair.

He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but someone called out your name, and the edge of desperation and worry in their voice cut through you like a knife. And Jason remembered you, knew you, and saw everything written on your face.

"We'll figure out this mess together." He swiped his thumb over your bottom lip before nudging your shoulder in the direction the voice had come from. "Lead the way, Centurion."

Your stomach was still in knots, so you pressed your lips into a firm line. But Jason was a warm strength at your back, and he kept his promise of together, and followed you dutifully.

War took and took, but sometimes it gave.

Jason, your Jason, was back. And maybe there were still a million questions to answer, boundaries to fix and homes to rebuild, but you knew Jason would be by your side through it all.

An unwavering force behind your relentless dedication.

War took and took, but things would be okay.

Things would be okay.

a/n: im allergic to sad endings (jk I just can't write them they always feel unfinished when I try) also this took me forever bc I was so incredibly worried that the finale would flop but I kinda love this so im just gonna full send

tag, you're it! @aezuria @tayswiftlovebot @bonnie-tz @folklorefantasies14 @sunshine-of-ur-life @irwinchester @bellamysnatblida @saph-nic @auroraofthesun1 @helloimamistake @maybxlle @p-rspective @lauptimist @dontstopxx @apollosfavkiddo @ebony-reine-vibes @poppysrin @valromanoff @jesuschrist2006 @pariahsparadise @killaari @marshmummy @sofiacblair

#jason grace #jason grace fanfiction #jason grace fanfic #jason grace x you #jason grace x reader #jason grace x y/n #rays of sun #cool about it

207 notes · View notes

amara-scott · 7 months

Text

One more step.

pairing: mattheo riddle x slytherin/reader themes: angsttt, fluff summary: Mattheo Riddle was known to be impulsive, doing everything he wanted and not caring about the outcome of his shenanigans. But what if he actually took it a little too far?

𓆙𓆙𓆙

How can it be that I've never, until now, noticed the beauty of a silent autumn evening? I know being a Slytherin comes with loads of bias. Not all Slytherins are ready to party at all times, and not every one of us seeks trouble.

Well, except that one group of boys, maybe. And even more precisely, Mattheo Riddle.

I sigh, shaking my head to myself and re-read the paragraph of my history of magic chapter. My once steaming hot cup of green tea is nearly empty and my fingers get tired of scribbling down notes as I try to remember all that I read. I really don't mind tests and exams- it's just that I would rather go out with Pansy and Cassandra. The only reason I am not is that I actually care about every grade I receive. Maybe a little too ambitious for my own good.

I shut the book with a mark in place and collect my belongings while taking a look around. The library is rather empty. Some gather around the fireplace, having their eyes glued to their books. I know, a fireplace in a library? Doesn't seem too smart. But good god, we're not muggles.

I stop in my tracks, on my way to the exit, as I made out a certain head of brown curls close by a nearing bookshelf. He disappears behind it, his eyes searching intensely for a specific book.

I took that as a sign to quickly make my way past the isles. I hurry, my robe flowing behind me and my hair bouncing with every step.

"(Y/N)?"

I freeze in place, inhaling for the first time since I walked. I carefully turn to the side, Mattheo smirking at me from head to toe.

"Mattheo." I get out and want to keep moving, but he steps outside the isle and right in front of me. My eyes glued to him, not daring to miss what could be a meaningful move.

"You know, it's quite early to be studying for the test on monday." He tilts his head slightly to the side glancing down at the book I am holding onto. He is wearing a smug expression, obviously aware of how intimidating he can be. And that really bothers me. A lot, actually. Maybe also the fact that he's using that to constantly bully my friends, Harry and Hermione. She is the smartest witch in Hogwarts, besides me. If not beyond.

"Move aside, Mattheo, I want to get dinner before it's too late." I got out, harsher than I thought. Good.

I step to the side and want to walk around him, but he blocks my way once more. I glance up at him and frown, pressing my teeth together. "What is it?" I ask rudely.

Mattheo steps forward, making me take a step back to not bump into him. "What's gotten you in such a sour mood, huh? You should be glad you're in Slytherin - otherwise I would -"

"- you would what? Constantly pick on me because I'm only a half-blood? Make me feel uncomfortable or embarrass me any chance given? Well, news flash, Riddle, you do that to many friends of mine and I despise you for that." I spit out and am surprised at my sudden burst. I quickly regain composure and push his frame slightly to the side to get around him.

His eyes were wider than usual and his mouth unusually closed. I don't hear any comebacks, so I don't bother turning around and briefly hurry out, to get to dinner.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

The pumpkin soup filled my nostrils long before turning into the Great Hall. I spot Pansy, Draco and a few others sitting at the Slytherin table. I hurry over, setting my books below the bench before sitting down next to Cassandra. She sends me a smile and I return it.

"Hey."

"- She was so stunned, quite like stone."

"Did she leave you alone then?" Draco asks Pansy and she continues a story I didn‘t bother to get into. Besides, Draco wants her all for himself anyway.

More people join the table now and I feel someone sit right next to me on my right. I glance up and see Theodore taking a seat, winking at me. I roll my eyes and turn back to my bowl, filling it with soup from the cauldron in the middle.

"Would you mind?" Theodore holds up his bowl and I take it, filling his too. "Thanks, love." I nod and begin eating. I stop before I can take a bite of toast when Mattheo joins, sitting opposite of Theodore.

I sigh internally, placing my spoon down in my bowl as our eyes meet briefly. The awkward tension in his eyes made me feel a little bad for my words earlier. But I don't regret them. He looks away and focuses on Pansy and her story, throwing in a few sarcastic remarks here and there. Acting like nothing happened.

"Hey, are you good?" Cassandra asks me, a little hushed. I stop stirring the soup, glancing up and noticing more eyes on me that have caught onto Cassandras question.

"Yeah, you look a little pale?" Pansy adds, her observation sounding more like a question.

Draco chuckles, "Nothing new there" earning a kick to the leg from Pansy, followed by a glare. The rest of the boys looking at me now too, trying to figure out if it's true.

"Uh- nothing? I think I'm just tired, it was a long week." I grab my book from below me and stand up. Not able to hold their stares as I feel judged.

"- where are you going? You haven't even finished the soup?" Theodore tries and I wave him off.

"I'm just exhausted, I'll see you later." I quickly turn around, ignoring Pansy calling my name and only stop walking once I'm outside the big doors and around the corner.

I really couldn't stand sitting there across from him, while he is who he is. I've finally had enough. I tried to ignore him being absolutely rude to countless people. But I can't pretend anymore.

The others weren't innocent either, don't get me wrong. But he was far from that.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking. Actually thinking about nothing. More so just staring.

"Can you tell me what's with you?" I hear Pansy as she sits down on my bed and looks down at me, frowning. I haven't even heard her come into our room. "Is it Riddle? What did he do this time?"

My eyes dart to her and I come up, leaning on my elbow. "No, that's not it-"

"- if it's not Riddle, then why have you bolted as soon as he sat down at dinner?" She raises an eyebrow at me and I fall back onto my pillow, holding back a groan. "I'm not stupid."

"He is ridiculous, truly infuriating." I tell her and she smirks at me.

"What?"

"Well, you sound like you think about him quite a lot."

*It's not like that Pansy, I swear." She sighs, standing up and shrugging her shoulders.

"If you don't trust me enough to tell me, so be it. Just don't come running to me when he breaks your heart." She's out the room before I can reply. I sit up in bed and look at the door.

Breaking my heart? I wouldn't let him get that close to me. Never.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

"(Y/N)!" I look behind me to see Hermione running up to me, falling into my step.

"Hey, how are you?" I ask and she shakes her head, giving me a worried look.

"How bad?" I ask and she stops, I copy her and turn around to look at her.

"He's in the Hospital Wing. They were already done once I saw them." I shake my head in disbelieve, not sure how to respond. I just had that talk with Mattheo and he still goes around, fighting and bullying others.

We both make our way to Harry. He sits on a bed, Madam Pomfrey smiling at us as we enter. "Hello there, you two." I smile at her and leave Hermione to talk to her while I check on Harry.

"Hey you." I say, sitting next to him as he rubs his bandaged arm. As he looks up at me, I see a deep purple bruise forming on his right cheek bone. Dried blood still sticking to the skin below his nose and upper lip.

"Don't look at me like that." I take his arm and look back up at him.

"How, Harry?"

"Like I lost the fight." I raise a brow and he tries to smile but hisses, touching his cheek bone. "He looks worse, I promise."

That oddly doesn't make me happy and I look down, letting go of his arm as Hermione joins us, sitting next to Harry's other side.

"You're an idiot, trying to win against him in a fight!" She taunts and I agree with her, Harry only rolling his eyes.

"What, you want me to run away? Tell him to please stop? Whatever I do or say doesn't matter. Our parents did that for us. We're only fighting their fight now." He mutters the last bit, his eyes fixed on the tiled ground.

"That's enough." I stand up with one goal only. Making this stop. This has to stop.

"(Y/N), don't-"

"- I have to."

𓆙𓆙𓆙

Walking down the cold stone stairs, I spot them around the corner in the open common room area by the fireplace. Talking and laughing. Pansy smiling, Blaise shaking his head with a smirk and Mattheo- grinning. He hasn't even bothered to change his shirt or clean his face, which is still bloody. Wearing it like a trophy.

"Hey!" I shout, all their eyes on me now as I storm up to the group. My eyes boring daggers into his brown ones.

"Who the actual fuck do you think you are!" I stop behind the couch where Pansy, Draco and Blaise sit on. My eyes not once missing him.

"What?"

"You heard me, jerk. How dare you-"

"Whoa, whoa, (Y/N)-" Theodore stands up from the floor with raised hands and Mattheo follows suit, his stare could kill me.

"Theo, don't." I warn him and step around the couch, walking up to Mattheo, not afraid of him. His breathing quick and his eyes dark.

"Answer my fucking question, Riddle. Who do you think you are?" I stab my finger into his chest a couple of times, feeling my cheeks warming up and eyes glossing over.

"I am his worst fucking nightmare. And don't you ever make the mistake of believing you could stop me from being just that." My mouth is agape as I feel a warm tear running down my cheek, stunned at his cold heart.

"But -"

"- No! You don't get to come in here and question me about something that doesn't concern you in any fucking way!" He yells, throwing his arms up and huffing, almost smiling at me with a crazy glint in his eyes.

"Harry is my concern, he is my friend - and so is Hermione! I can't believe that you can't see past that."

"Then why don't you go, leave! Run to your precious Gryffindor friends if you love them so much! No one will fucking miss you here. Not a single minute."

"Guys, maybe we shouldn't talk about that here." Theodore says, coming closer to us both, holding Mattheo's shoulder now.

Mattheo pushes his hand from him, his cold stare now turned onto him, allowing me to take a breath.

"Pathetic half-blood." Riddle mutters, only for me to hear.

Pansy now pulling at my hand quickly from behind me, "come on" and I slowly take a few steps backward, glancing at Theo and Riddle one last time.

"- you think I would hurt her?" I hear before Pansy takes me to our chambers. I don't remember how long I've been sitting here on my bed, tears running down my cheeks. Her hand runs up and down my back.

"What happened?"

I look at her and I feel my head throbbing now. "He went too far with Harry. I can't just sit back and watch."

"You know, if that sorting hat had asked me, I would have placed you in Gryffindor anyway. How bravely you protect your friends." She smiles at me and I huff, chuckling.

"You're forgetting how stubborn I am, I wouldn't survive a day there. Plus, green is more my color." It's her turn to laugh and she nods, agreeing with me. Her smile leaves her lips and I know what's coming next.

"Jokes aside. This can't keep going on. You both have quite a lot to say to each other, despite claiming to hate each other. What happened to two years ago? You both were on such a good way to becoming wonderful friends."

Honestly? I don't know myself. After the winter break, when we came back to Hogwarts two years ago, something had changed. I noticed it right away but didn't want to talk to Mattheo.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

Mattheo POV:

"Really now, what's gotten into you? I know Harry isn't the greatest but why pick a fight with him so often, especially while knowing it will get a rise out of her?"

I shrug, picking at the dried crimson blood on my knuckles. It's turning brown now.

He sighs as he scratches at his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut before looking at me once more. "Matt, please tell me you're not doing anything stupid anytime soon, yeah? Give us all a break."

Theo stands up, walking out and I stay on my bed, biting at my split lip, chewing my skin. She is all I can think about. Good or bad- but those teary eyes were torture. I wanted her attention, yes. But not like this. Not if her heart is already with someone else anyway.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

(Y/N)‘s POV:

I skipped classes for the whole next day and only ate what Pansy brought me. I don't know what I'm more afraid to face. Mattheo's angry gaze or Harry's disappointed one, once he figures out I failed to stop the bullying.

I crumble up the tissue and toss it across the bed, it lands with some others near my feet. With closed eyes, I can't make out who entered the room but I'm guessing it's Pansy by the way she sits on my bed and sighs.

"I'm not hungry -"

"- you haven't eaten all day."

"Yes, I have -"

"- the dry toast I brought you eight hours ago surprisingly doesn't count." I open my eyes and glance at her sideways. She frowns, her brows being pulled together and she seems to wince at my sight.

"Seriously, come with me and get some dinner, you can go right back to bed, okay?" I shake my head and look back up at the ceiling.

"Alright, that was the last time I asked nicely." She stands up and pulls me by the leg.

"Hey!" I try to hold myself on the bed but she janks once, hard enough for me to fall off the bed.

"Get up now and let's go!" She helps me stand up and I hiss, holding my bum.

"That was mean." I mumble and she shrugs, not seeming fazed in the slightest.

"I don't care, now come on." She throws me one of my sweaters and pulls my hand. I sigh, giving up, not ready for another fight.

I decide then I would sit at the Gryffindor table, not daring to sit close to him. I couldn't face him now. Not with what happend and what was said.

"I'll see you later Pans-" I walk right to Harry and Ron as I spot them, leaving Pansy by the entrance. Walking down the isle of benches I take a seat next to Ron, facing Harry.

"Hey." I greet them and they share a worried glance.

"You look worse than Harry- no offence." Ron states and makes a face, pushing his mug of tea over. "Here."

I take it and gulp it down, thanking him.

"What happened?" Harry asks, his broken glasses fixed once more probably by Hermione. Who isn't here yet, I notice.

"Nothing really, just trying to keep him off your back." I try sending a weak smile but it's probably more a grimace.

"(Y/N), don't. That's a thing between me and him- I don't want you to get hurt-"

I tune out his speech and glance toward the Great Hall doors as he enters. An unreadable expression on his face. His eyes go toward the Slytherin table but he frowns, his eyes trailing along until they meet mine.

In the gloomy light the shadows dance across his face. His lips slightly ajar as I try to peel my gaze from him, unsuccessfully.

"(Y/N) -" A waving hand forces me to blink. I glance over to their owner, Harry. Hermione sitting now next to him.

"Have you heard a single thing I just said?" I shake my head, not in the mood to lie. She sighs and glances behind her at the Slytherin table where Mattheo sits down next to Theo. Him patting his back. His eyes finding mine once more. I can't help the tears coming back and quickly stand up, running toward the big doors.

"(Y/N)!" I block out Harry's, Ron's and Hermione's calls, just running out.

I don't stop in the hallway and follow the path to the courtyard. The cold air slowing down my movement and I take a few deep breaths. I sit down on a bench near the tree and pull my knees up. No one's around. Even if- I don't care anymore. I start sobbing, my face hidden.

I fully realize the impact his words have on me now, the strength he has over me. The feelings he hurt. My heart he broke.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

Pansy lies with me now. The covers warming me up from the cold air. She found me outside, not knowing she would find me where she did. But she did. She really is the greatest friend I have.

"You know, he probably feels terrible having hurt you so bad." I wipe away the dry path of my past tears and shake my head.

"He doesn't have feelings. He is a shell of nothingness." I mumble and feel my eyes getting heavier.

The knock on our door pulls me back out of my soon overtaking sleep and I sit up with Pansy, sharing a quick glance. It's nearly midnight.

"Can I come in?" Theo asks and carefully pulls open the door, his right eye blinking through the crack.

"What are you doing here?" Pansy asks, getting out of bed and opening the door. Theodore seems uneasy, stepping left and right, scratching the back of his head. Stumbling along his words.

"Well, I know it might not be a good idea, but we didn't know if -"

"- get to it, Nott." Pansy says, sighing with a hand on her hip.

"It's Mattheo -"

"- no, not a chance." She wants to push the door in his face but he holds it open, placing a foot in the door.

"Wait, listen, please."

She sighs and I stand up now, walking forward and stopping next to Pansy. Theo's eyes on me now. He gulps and stutters.

"He- he's down the hall in the dungeons, picking a fight with Harry -"

I don't need to hear anymore, grabbing my wand and pushing past them, running up the stairs in the common room to get out. I hear them hot on my tail but don't turn around.

"- you shouldn't pick a fight with someone like me, Potter!" I make out Mattheo's voice and pick up my speed even more.

"- And you shouldn't even be alive, Riddle!" I intake a sharp breath of air as those words leave Harry's lips, neither of them noticing me and start casting spells at each other.

"Expelliarmus!"

"Protego!"

"Stupefy!"

I step up and hold my wand out, pointing it at Mattheo. A hand on my shoulder stops me from talking. "(Y/N), don't-"

"Accio!" I yell and a wand flies through the air and straight into my palm. I look up and Mattheo's eyes find mine as he tucks away his own wand before walking over to a wandless Harry.

"No, Mattheo-" I run over as they start throwing fists, pushing each other to the ground. I look back at Theo, who comes to my aid, trying to get ahold of Harry's shoulder who sits atop of Mattheo, throwing a fist in his face. I hold my hands in front of my opened mouth, gasping.

Theo pulls Harry from him as he struggles to get out of his grip.

Mattheo quickly gets to his feet but another arm holds him back. Draco. "It's not worth it, trust me."

"You're just like your father!" Harry yells and I watch as Mattheo's eyes loose all light, his hands hanging by his sides. He stopped struggling against Draco's restrain.

My feet carry me quicker than my brain can register and soon I place my arms around his shoulders, holding him, hugging his frame. His chin laying on my shoulder.

"Get lost, Potter, before we call for Snape." I hear Theo say but don't turn to look. My heart swells with anger and regret. Mattheo's arms soon find their way around me, pulling me even closer, clawing at me shirt. I feel my neck soaking with his - tears.

I glance over his shoulder, the others gone, leaving us two.

"He's wrong, you know?" I whisper, scared of him leaving this position. He doesn't answer at first but his silent crying turns into sniffling.

He pulls away a bit, looking at me. "You don't have to pretend to feel bad for me." He gets out.

"I don't, Matt. I just know the whole truth now." He frowns, his pretty brown eyes sparkling with the remaining tears.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I know why you pick so many fights. And I know why you hated Harry particularly much." His eyes leave mine and glue themselves to the floor between us. He pulls away from the embrace. My hands falling to my sides.

"I don't know what you-"

"-Matt, you don't have to pretend to be a big, bad boy all the time. I'm sorry I made you feel invalid."

"What happened to calling me Riddle, huh?" I sigh, shaking my head to myself. Of course that didn't make it any better.

"I'm so sorry."

"No, I'm the one who's supposed to be sorry. I was the biggest dickhead to you, even when I rather should have just asked you to Hogsmeade."

"Matt, I-" I stop myself once I understood the whole sentence. "-Hogsmeade?"

"Yes, since two years actually."

Two years. Two goddamn years in which I tried to figure out what went wrong between us. Nothing.

"You idiot." I say.

"I know. I know, I am. And I won't blame you if you say no-"

"-You, Mattheo Thomas Riddle, are the absolute worst dickhead to ever have walked these halls." I stab my finger into his chest and look up at him, his lips curling into a small smirk, showing his teeth. One of his hands takes my finger down and holds my hand there.

"Nothing new, love." He states, raising his brows and biting the inside of his cheek.

"First- you terrorize my friends. Then you actually fist fight one of them- until you're both ready for the Hospital Wing. Just for me to end your duell in the dungeons before one gets the other killed. And now you're asking me to Hogsmeade?" I can't help but my stunned expression is probably quite visible on my face.

"Uh- is that a yes?"

"Well, of course I'm going with you! But only if you, for the love of Merlin, stop fighting with Harry. That's not getting you anywhere except maybe Azkaban once you finally killed each other."

He stops for a moment, coming even closer and I freeze in place, not knowing if what's about to happen is really the start of something good. But right now, right here, it feels truly amazing.

„You‘re cute when you’re angry.“

#imagine #imagines #harry potter #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #harry potter imagine

439 notes · View notes

lets-try-some-writing · 3 months

Note

idea

Considering that tfp cybertronian don't have lips like humans,to """kiss""" eachother, they basicly bonk heads together like cats with a light electric current running between them.

I LOVE THIS IDEA

I swear I've written about it before, but here I go again.

Keeping in line with my personal headcanon that touching is just a way to bond, I can see Bumblebee hurrying to bonk his helm against everyone he likes. Arcee gets one, Bulkhead had to kneel down to get one, Ratchet gets two happy bonks, Optimus gets one long bonk. The kids are even offered the bonks but Bee has to be very careful so as to not accidently hurt them. Smokey doesn't get bonks, nor does Ultra Magnus. They are too new or important for him to feel comfortable.

Arcee doesn't do helm touches. That's for sparklings and very close pairs. No instead she does leans. She will rest her helm against the leg or torso of those she likes. No hugs here. Just a light touch. She's a tad too short for most other interaction anyway.

Bulkhead is very gentle with everyone he does helm touches with. He doesn't touch Ratchet with a ten foot pole and he is VERY conservative with the touches he offers Optimus. The Prime will get light touches like the ones Arcee offers. Bumblebee often gets full blown helm touches. Arcee doesn't like getting helm touches so Bulkhead instead touches her back whenever he can. Wheeljack though? Whenever he's at base Bulkhead and Wheeljack will butt helms like rams. He might pat Magnus's shoulder, but that's all. Smokey gets no helm touches, but shoulder touches are acceptable.

Ratchet isn't particularly stingy about touching. He's a medic after all. It is literally his job to stick his digits everywhere. But when he's feeling particularly touchy he will offer helm touches to Bumblebee and Optimus exclusively. He knows them the best and so is far more comfortable touching them. Bulkhead and Arcee get back touches and in Bulkhead's case, hip and torso touches as well. Ultra Magnus is in a similar boat. Smokescreen is too new for serious touching, but Ratchet is willing to throw him a bone due to his youth and will give him back touches as well when he's feeling down.

Technically the rules state that it is heretical for anyone to touch the Prime without going through various rituals, but Optimus gave everyone the green light so now he will go about touching his team whenever he feels like it. Helm bonks go for whoever he trusts and is comfortable with it. Back, arm, and pretty much anywhere else touches go for the rest of the team. Smokescreen never emotionally recovered when Optimus spontaneously decided he trusted Smokescreen enough for the rookie to get touches.

Ultra Magnus will only touch his Wreckers, Ratchet, and Optimus. He may give Bee a few touches, but its RARE. He will touch helms with Optimus and Bulkhead, even Wheeljack eventually. It is all a matter of trust, one which he first engaged in begrudgingly but now secretly really enjoys.

Smokescreen both REALLY wants touches but also isn't entirely sure about what to do. Standard dictates that touches are reserved for close companions. But the war meant that the usual time it takes for trust to build has significantly shortened. He spent several weeks totally touch starved until Bulkhead accepted him first. The rest of the team followed suit and poor Smokescreen has never gotten so much physical affection in his life.

Touching reaffirms bonds. There is nothing weird about it. The whole process is just to solidify companionship. Despite that eventually being explained to the humans, they will never not blush when the team will nonchalantly stick their servos in places humans would see as being very reserved. Arcee is the worst offender in their eyes since she is often too short to reach anything except the legs and crotch of taller bots.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #team prime #optimus prime #ratchet #bumblebee #ultra magnus #wheeljack #bulkhead #arcee #smokescreen #cybertronian culture

269 notes · View notes

kenmakodz · 3 months

Text

CANDID LOVE ˙✧˖📷

06. brain food ☆

writing in-between cuts!

a quiet knock on the door catches your attention, which was previously focused on scrolling through random shows on Netflix. a weird feeling, you get. an emotion that seems to be the love-child of excitement and nervousness. there's no time to run away from these feelings, though, so you get up and open the door for the poor boy who's been hauling 3 bags of food.

"my god" he sighs, setting the bags down on the coffee table. "i think my stomach has eyes. there's no way we're finishing all this in one night." you laugh, noticing how he's holding his arm out of pain. "i've definitely done the same, more times than i'd like to admit-- here, sit down for a bit." gesturing to the couch, you sit down and pat a spot relatively close to you. he takes this offer with open arms, considering he'd walked pretty far. "sorry i took a while, hopefully i didn't keep you waiting too long?" his hands fidget together as he takes in your room. it's the size of a triple, but you have it to yourself. it's quite surprising how nice the school treats transfer students, considering how main students are usually shoved into a tiny room with 2-3 other people. you place your hand upon his; a ballsy move, but you know how it feels to be anxious about things. you don't want him to be anxious with you. "it's fine, really. i don't mind waiting for you." you smile, moving your hand back to it's previous position. embarrassment clearly runs through his body, but to you he just looked starstruck. after a moment of pushing these feelings back, he returns your smile. "i'm glad, then. um, can we eat? i fear my stomach is going to wrinkle up if we don't." "yes yuuta, we can eat."

"okay, okay. this seems good for now, i think?" he sits back from the laptop you two have been sharing, taking a second to re-read the outline. your eyes scan the page as well; it's a very.. rough outline. you start laughing at the last few lines, where he'd begun to give up on being professional. after all, only you two will see this draft. "why are you laughing?" he pouts, thinking you're making fun of the ideas laid out. "oh relax," you lean back with him, realizing he's gotten much closer than before. "i can just tell that you were rushing writing the final scene." his head whips to you and a hand clutches his chest, feigning shock; a sarcastic gasp falls from his lips. "how could you! we worked very hard on this!" your hand pushes his away from his chest, the both of them landing on his lap. "oh, shut up. i'm just teasing." he huffs anyways, a facade you've become accustomed to. after all, one of your best friends is nobara kugisaki.

reaching to a stuffed dog to your side, you hand it to him. "here, will an emotional support dog help?" he sighs, wrapping it in his arms. "i suppose." laughing again, you sit up and grab the laptop once more. "you're so dumb." he grips the toy more, you don't realize it, but he likes the way it smells of lavender just like you do. "what are you doing now, don't you think its enough for tonight?" you stop to think, after sending the draft to your phone. "well, we'll need to send casting calls to the neighboring schools sometime soon.. but i guess we can be done for now." he closes the laptop for you and places it on the table once again, looking back. "good, we can do that another time-" his sentence is cut off due to his phone practically blowing up in the room over. "sorry," he starts, getting up and handing the stuffed dog back to you. "let me go check on that."

"hey, sorry again. my friends were blowing up my phone for some reason." he comes back into the room where you two were sitting before, unsure if he should sit back down. he can't read your face, and you can't read his either, despite you both feeling the same way. "it's okay. you can sit back down if you want to stay a bit longer..?" you look down for a split second, anticipating the rejection he was about to give you. "i was looking for shows before you got here, but i couldn't find a good one." you try to convey what you say as a question, but it almost comes out as a plea. he doesn't say anything immediately, and you almost get upset? looking back up, you realize he's already getting ready to sit back down with you. "i'd love to stay. i also have an amazing suggestion for a show." your eyes light up, and it feels like the room filled with more air the way you both sighed with relief. "oh really?" you tease him, as he takes back the toy he'd left with you. "lay it on me then."

fun facts -> TWO PEOPLE PINING FOR EACHOTHER BUT NEITHER KNOW IT!!!! a classic trope. chefs kiss. yuuta offered to go get snacks not only because he was starving, but he also needed time to calm himself down before going to y/n's dorm. he was scared. scared that he'd say something stupid, give her the ick, embarrass himself. you know, the works. once he got there though, it felt like he never wanted to go home again.

-> GOD I LOVE THEM SO MUCh. screams. kicking my feet like a little girl writing this chapter.

previous, masterlist, next [07. i hate men (except you two)]

taglist is open! @just-a-girlblogger @moryymor @swissy23 @hvnyacoded @sereniteav @k4romis @jayathelostdragon @h3rmess @olivandeee @lysaray @ari3000dontcare @raechu11 @marifujioka @nyxlai @sonicsolos @saltypuffin1040 @r0ckst4rjk @h8ani @lmaolmaolmao @maya-maya-56 @mittensdun @adrenova @pnkblueberry @morgyyyyyyy @chososwh0r3 @lunecqm @r4veeen @arivsx @levlucs-kiru @mellozhi

if you are in bold, i am unable to tag you :( and if i forgot to add you, PLEASE YELL AT ME

⤷ © kenmakodz

250 notes · View notes

wandixx · 3 months

Text

Ghost of fries and Hero of cookies

All work words count: 14 593

Words in this part: 2 224

Summary of whole work: Duke wasn't expecting to wake up from his quick rooftop nap to some meta kid with fries. He also wasn't expecting kid to stay Or Danny asked Dani to stay safe while she was in Gotham. Where would she be safer than under the wing of local hero? And he looked like he needed bad day combo anyway

This part summary: First meeting and training discussions Beta read by @audhumla-sailor though English is second language for both of us, so proceed with this in mind. I also know all of the charaters through fics alone, so probably ooc. Stay catious if it's something you don't like

Duke was running out of fumes to run on. Last few days would be exhausting if it was just vigilante or just civilian stuff but no, he had to have it both. Because of Arkham break out he had been called in three nights in a row, not for a whole patrol but he couldn't exactly sleep it of during the day like others did, especially not in a week when every teacher decided they need to have test or quiz or what not. Naps meant he wasn't as sleep deprived as he could be but he needed far more. But he couldn't because crime in Gotham never sleeps so he had normal patrol to finish and there were about two ours left.

Would something bad happen if he just stopped for a moment and laid on a roof? Ten up to fifteen minutes. It was a slow day too...

Yeah, no, he deserved a moment to rest and if something disastrous was to happen in the meantime he would shame other Bats for not giving him enough time to sleep.

It certainly said something that he found gravel covering this roof to be quite comfortable. He set a timer for ten minutes and let himself close his eyes.

When loud screech of timer jolted him awake, he was suddenly fully aware that he wasn't alone anymore. He sat up a little too quickly.

"Oh, you're awake," white haired girl around Damian's age chimed, sitting cross legged just few feets away from him. She wore something that could only be described as an unholy mix of lab safety hazmat and skintight workout jumpsuit, white and black. When had Gotham gotten a new vigilante? "Good, I just returned from snack hunt," she added, gesturing at a big textile bag lying next to her. Duke didn't have enough brainpower to do anything more than ask.

"What?"

Girl shrugged, take out from BatBurger in her hand.

"You look like you have a bad day if not few days, so I've got you my cousin's bad day combo or at least closest thing I could. BatBurger burger isn't as good as NastyBurger but you certainly have better fries," as she spoke, second take out bag, 1 quart bottle of energy drink, juice bottle of same size and pack of convenience store brownies joined greasy paper bag sealed with a sticker.

"Is your cousin a speedster?" Excuse Duke, it was a totally valid question, he saw with his bare eyes both Wally West and Bart Allen when they visited Manor. Noone else would be able to stomach the amount of food they inhaled during their stays.

"Nah, we're not that fast or that hungry. Though I think I may get closer to speed of sound," So, clearly a meta if white hair and weir aura that let his eyes rest weren't enough indication "My cousin when he has bad few days he often forgets to eat so this combo has to help with there too. But I'll steal your fries of course."

Duke was not going to look gift horse in teeth, so he grabbed one bag and tore it open. There was classic combo with bigger fries and NightWings inside.

"Thank you..." he trailed off, hoping that girl would take a clue and introduce herself but she didn't. She just drowned her fries in ketchup and started munching. She had her own juice.

"My cousin always said that each part of this combo has different purpose," she explained instead, slightly muffled because of fries in her mouth, "This" she gestured towards fast food meal "is to sooth your stomach. This "she tapped energy drink "is to sooth your brain and kick it back online. This "she raised bottle of juice, "is to sooth your taste buds because energy drinks are war crime against them and this "she nudged brownies "is to sooth your heart because Ancients damn it, this day is awful and you deserve it. At least that's what he told me when I had day bad enough to deserve that," she shrugged, licking ketchup of her finger. Suddenly she froze "You aren't allergic, are you?

"No, I'm not," he confessed bewildered.

"Good"

For a long moment they sat in silence, devouring food the little girl brought. Duke distantly wondered if this was how night shift spent their snack breaks. It felt nice.

He was finishing his part of brownies when girl spoke up again.

"Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah" he was a little surprised to realize that it was true. He'll have to note down what she put in this 'bad day combo'. "Thank you"

"Don't mention it," she shrugged with general gesture of dismissal, "You're one of my cousin's favorite heroes because you're vaguely his age and handle Gotham alone during the day and I quote, "she did honest to God air quotes at that" 'As only hero in Amity-' which is a lie by the way, Val is doing great and even if he suddenly got problem with how she feels about his alter ego, he still has Sam and Tuck even if they're usually more of moral support. And I helped when I visited, so no, he isn't only one. Anyway as he said 'As only hero in Amity, my heart goes out for anyone who deals with this type of bullshit so Dani if you absolutely have to prank heroes, leave them out of it, especially Signal, he can't be older than Jazz, he doesn't need any more mess to handle.' All aliens and lanterns are also off limits because he is a space nerd. But you aren't space related so I'm like 80% percent sure he has celebrity crush on you," she slurped more juice, unbothered.

Duke was thankful he wasn't swallowing anything because for sure she would choke. He took split second to consider addressing... this whole situation and choose not to. He was not ready to be anyone's celebrity crush.

"Your name is Danny?" he asked instead.

"Dani" she corrected" with an I"

"Ok. It's nice to meet you Dani-with-an-I," She giggled, nodding her head slightly.

"It's nice to meet you too Signal"

Duke stood up, stretching a little. Dani joined him after hastily putting all the trash in her bag. She was a little higher than expected.

"I have to get back to my patrol"

"Cool," she drifted back a bit, making him realize that she was floating a few inches above the ground. She fixed her bag on her arm.

"Hey, can I hang out a little bit more? My cousin will go green out of jealousy when I tell him," she added with a mischievous smirk but Duke could tell there was more to it. He took a moment to consider it, which apparently made girl nervous "I can be invisible the whole time, like before," she offered, disappearing in the meantime. He could still tell where she was, because of her heat signature and other waves she excluded but for regular people she would be no different than surrounding air.

"Yeah, you can hang around and you don't have to be invisible. Just don't get in my way when I have to actually do some fighting."

She popped back to visible spectrum and pouted like Damian whenever he got benched.

"I can fight, y'know? I stopped mugging on a snack run."

It was ten god damn minutes, how could she get so much food and stop mugging in such a short time?!

Oh, right, superspeed. Still, impressive.

"I haven't seen it-" he started, channeling all Dick-trying-to-wrangle-Damian-into-socially-acceptable-activity energy he could muster "-so I don't know how you fight or even what powers do you have. If we tried to fight together we would trip over each other" It was a bare faced lie, Bat training made sure of that but he knew for fact that if he said anything else, the girl would be mad and probably did her own thing.

Was that what Bruce thought about all of them?

Oh no.

Dani still looked displeased but after a moment of consideration she nodded with a defeated sigh.

Suddenly she straightened like she got struck by lightning and whipped around.

"Wha-"

She just shushed, raising finger to her mouth. Duke did indeed quietened.

"I have enhanced hearing," she whispered "There is a mugging somewhere this way."

"Let's go then," he shot his grapple, waving his other hand at Dani to come with him before he jumped off the roof. He heard the girl giggle as she flew right after him.

"After this you'll show me the coolest gargoyles, okay? Sam asked for photos"

"Okay"

It seemed that the end of this patrol wouldn't be as bad as the start was. Hopefully.

And afterwards he was going to lock himself in his room until sky falls down or he was well rested.

Yeah, that was a good plan.

********

"Hey kid," Signal started, dropping from fire escape to cuff weirdo in clown mask who Dani just fought. He did it deliberately slowly to show her how to do it like he always did. She choose to not be to annoyed at being called kid again and noted to herself to come up with good codename later. All her previous ideas apparently weren't cutting it and she couldn't keep going by Dani because reasons.

"Yes?"

"Who gave you a combat training?" he asked getting up from a crouch and gesturing towards roof. So it's going to be longer talk, okay.

"My cousin," well, Flashes in Central taught her some stuff but it was more rescue and reassure type of deal not punch and kick, Sam tried to get her through basics of psychological warfare in activism, Tucker sweared he would teach her some programming and hacking but never got around to it, Jazz did some emotional training and Val offered to teach her Red Huntress skills when she got back, but yeah, all in all, Danny was the one to show her how to punch people. Even though it was more of 'shit we have to fight, observe maybe, idk' most of the time. She picked some tricks from Vlad too now that she thought about it, not that she planned to give him any credit for it, like, ever. "Why?"

"I have a bone to pick with him," vigilante announced, melting with the shadows. Dani sped as much as she could to beat him to the roof. She was competitive spirit like that.

Unfortunately he was first. She made another note to herself (she was so going to forget them in next five to ten minutes) to train her speed a bit more. She got tips from the guy with the title of The Fastest Man Alive for crying out loud, she shouldn't loose with the person who technically doesn't even have superspeed!

Signal sat cross legged on the gravel and tossed her a healthy granola bar. He kept doing it for some reason.

"I'm sorry to break it to you, but almost everything in your fighting technique is horrible. Your cousin did shitty job as a teacher" he started in warm slightly teasing tone. Dani felt attacked anyway.

"It's not like he has any sort of training either," she started, trying to sound nonchalant, rolling her eyes. "Cut him some slack," She bit a snack in attempt to cover her furry. It had chocolate and raspberries, was quite tasty and she was kinda hungry anyway. She wasn't sure she wanted to know how Signal knew it though "Everything he learned is from the trial and error by crashing through a few walls. Quite hard to care about 'technique'. I at least got his mistakes to learn from so don't you dare to speak about him like that!" alright, she lost it, she can admit it. But, Signal might be cool and Danny may or may not like him (she hoped he didn't, Val was much better option) but Gotham's hero had no right to say anything bad about her template. He didn't know anything. He didn't understand.

Signal looked like he was going to say something so she put her ghostly vocal cords to use and growled.

Don't-harm-family/will-fight/ protect-mine/don't-you-dare

She didn't stop to consider how unlikely it was for him to understand her. She crossed her hands on her chest, glaring.

Turned out, growl was enough of the warning. He carefully picked his next words.

"Sorry, it's not the way I should've phrase it," he started, his mouth doing the thing it did when people were embarrassed with themselves but in an uncomfortable, a bit angry way. He understood his mistake, good. She calmed her glare a bit. "I wasn't aware of you circumstances. If you want, I can show you some tricks, Batman is very throughout with his training"

"No, thank you, I'm good" she was still mad. So mad. And she was not pouting.

"Of course you're good but you can be better, more efficient."

"No." Whatever Signal would propose to her, she wouldn't agree. He said mean things about Danny not even a minute before. She couldn't let him have it on a principle!

"I'll give you a cookie after every training," he pleaded "The homemade, tasty one"

Well, that changed things. A lot of things.

"Yes please!"

He apologized anyway.

********************

Second part

I know democratic winner in poll for now is "publish all at once" and believe me, I respect democracy, especially now that I finally have rights to do things, but Tumblr wouldn't let me. Too long or something. So, it'll be in parts, sorry guys. I'll try to post all of the parts this weekend though (or one each day, I'll see).

Yes, I didn't have a name for this fic until five minutes ago, how did you know? It's quite alright though, I think. If you have better idea I may reconsider

#dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dani hangs out with duke #signal got new sidekick and he doesn't even know it yet #not fully at least #Dani: I'm going Goth(am)#Danny: Maybe don't?#Dani: Nah #Danny: Stay safe?#Dani: Alright *imprints on the first hero she sees*#this random mugger Dani stopped: Last thing I saw was feral racoon child #police officer: what?#almost mugging victim: I was saved by said feral racoon child #police officer: What?!#Dani: Alright. Good deed for today done. They're calling my name in BatBurger to get my stuff. See ya!#Dani: I hope I can make it back before Signal wakes up #Police guy&mugger&victim: Did she kidnap our hero???#Dani: *fights*#Duke: With all due respect. How did you survive this long?! *died inside a little bit from stress*#wandixx writes #ghost of fries and hero of cookies #have a nice day dear stranger who got to this part

214 notes · View notes