#anyway. i can finally breath easier I know where the song came from now | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theoblivon · 3 months ago

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Hello there, this is my first smut ever so please go easy on me. And apologies in advance for any mistakes, English is not my first language. xoxo

TW: pure filth, p in v, slight sub x dom vibes, readers first time…

Word count: 2242

Song: West Coast by Lana Del Rey

PLEASE TOUCH ME

Y/N’s POV

"Please touch me."

I said my voice like I plea. With a devilish smile on his face:

"But I am touching you sweetheart aren’t I?"

His tone was tinted with fake innocence. He knew what I was saying but he deliberately chose to ignore it.

"You know what I mean Matthew."

"Yes, but I am going to need you to say it anyway."

"I want you to make me cum."

As soon as my sentence ended he finally reached down to where I needed him the most. His lips touching my ear he said in his velvety voice :

"I bet I can make you cum even without touching you but we’ll leave that for another day."

His words went straight to my core, and a small moan escaped my mouth. I immediately shut my mouth with my hand to make sure no more sound would escape. Matthew pulled out his hand from my core before I could even protest both of his hands pinned mine to the couch and said

“Don’t you ever hide your voices from me do you understand? I want to hear every scream, every moan. Every breath. Ever. Single. One.”

The way he said was so aggressive, passionate, and authoritative that it left no room to protest. I was so drunk in lust combined with his voice and hands all over me I could not find words to reply with. He put one of his hands on my thigh letting go of my hands. The other went to grab my face, it was gentle yet with just enough pressure to bring my voice back to my throat.

“Do you understand?”

He said.

“Yes, Matthew.”

My voice was not more than a whisper.

He hummed in a low animalistic tone. And not wasting a second his hand resumed their actions. I let out a moan. I felt embarrassed to make such a noise when he wasn’t even doing anything other than playing with my clit. I couldn’t help myself and bit my lips. His hand that was on my face now was on my throat. He said with a breathy yet firm voice.

“What did I say. Mhm?”

I was bearly containing myself but with the filthy sound of my wetness, his voice, that goddamn 'mhm' sound he makes and his hand in my throat were simply way too much to handle. All I could do was moan in return.

“That’s right let me hear you, sweetheart. Let me hear how good I am making you feel.”

That was it. I just let go. Now I was a moaning mess just lost in the pleasure.

Matt’s POV:

The way he said my full name like a mewl, her breathy moans, the heat radiating from her skin, the smell that polluted the air all around us was too much. I was consumed by her. All of my senses were focused on one single thing and it was her. First time in a very long time I didn’t hear screams from outside or the prayers made to God by hopeless people. It was just her and nothing else. I was using every bit of self-restraint to not just fuck her to oblivion right there and then. But this was her first time and this was our first time I want to make it special, take it slow, and make this moment as long-lasting as possibly can. But it was so hard to control myself around her. Months and months of buildup of sexual and emotional tension were not making it any easier. I could feel her pulse under my thumb and feel her moans in her throat before they came out of her mouth. I could feel her lips and how soft and wet they were because she was constantly licking them. So I gently yanked her from her throat bringing her back to the moment and kissed her. The kiss was wet and hot. This time she wasn’t just following my lead, her hand went to grab my collar and deepen the kiss. I groaned into her mouth, and she moaned in return. Her hand worked their way down the first button of my shirt. She tried to open it with shaking hands. She got frustrated with the buttons because it was taking too much time and honestly, it was not fair to her that she was naked and I was fully clothed. I could feel that she was close. So to not waste too much time I removed my hand from her clit and ripped my shirt off. She gasped. I could feel her eyes roam all over me. I didn’t waste a second to continue my actions. Her fingertips traced gentle lines all over my torso. Every bit of skin she touched was burning. I was already lost in lust and she didn’t even properly touch me. That was the moment I realized that there was no going back for me after this.

Y/N’s POV

Never have I ever felt this good in my entire life. My mind was quiet. There was only one thought, one word really “Matthew”. My mind seems to not be able to conjure any other thing. I dreamt of this, of him touching me. I know it would be fantastic but never in my wildest dreams have I imaged this. The knot in my belly was so close to exploding. I opened my mouth to say it but all that came out was a loud moan.

“That’s a good girl. Just like that let me hear you, sweetheart.”

My moans become louder. I tried to say once again that I was close, so so close as if he read my mind he said:

“I know sweetheart let it go, cum for me, let me hear you.”

That was the push I needed. Holding onto him for dear life I came with a very loud moan. He groaned while he continued to his actions. He whispered what I assumed was sweet nothings. He kissed me with such passion as if tho he was a starving man feasting on my lips. After I came down from high I pulled away from the kiss. I grabbed the sides of his face with both of my hands. Just to take a moment to look at him. And then I kissed him. My hand in his hair, he grabbed either side of my thighs and put them around his waist. He then without breaking the kiss, carried me into the room and put me down on the bed. He removed his ripped shirt then broke the kiss and stood up. I was at the edge of the bed. I sit up fully to touch him. My hand went to his belt. The anticipation took over me I unbuckled his belt as fast as I could. Then went to open the button to free him from his trousers. My hand touched his clothed crotch. It was just for a brief moment but Matthew, what I could only describe as hissed and took both of my hands and pinned them above my head to the bed. His eyes were dark. He said with an almost choked voice.

“You drive me crazy (y/n) you know that? All of the self-control is out of the door when it comes to you.”

I didn’t know what to say but I was so desperate I wanted him in me.

“Please Matthew, please.”

“Please what?”

It was embarrassing really not because I was ready to beg him but because I wanted to beg. I wanted to please him.

“Please Matthew, I want you”

He paused for a second, his gaze softened.

“You already have my sweetheart, you always had me and you always will.”

With that, he kissed me. The heat I was feeling in my core worked its way to my heart, melting it completely for Matthew. This kiss was much more emotionally loaded. This was our way of saying that we love each other. As the moments passed the heat came right back, more stronger than before. I broke the kiss.

“I need you, Matthew, I need you in me, I need to feel you please.”

I pleaded, and his eyes went dark. He started to leave open mouth kisses all the way down to my core. It was clear that he couldn’t wait anymore. Two of his long fingers slipped into my hole. He let them sit there for a moment, letting me adjust to the new sensation. I felt full, just from his fingers. The thought of how he would feel in me made me clench around his fingers. I wanted to beg him to move his fingers but no words found their way into my lips. All that came out were just moans. But that was enough for him to get the message. He started to stretch me out.

Matt’s POV:

She was so tight even around my fingers. The thoughts of how she would feel made me feral. As her moans become louder it became harder for me to ignore the throbbing of my cock. And I just couldn't take it anymore. I pulled out my fingers. She opened her eyes and was about to protest when I got up and pulled down my boxers. Her groans quieted, and her mouth fell open. Her heartbeat became even faster and the heat that radiated from her face became higher.

"Matthew, that's not going to fit."

She said quietly, clearly embarrassed. I could hold back a little chuckle.

"Don't worry sweetheart, I'll make it fit."

She gasped. I towered over her, putting my arms on either side of her face. What I wouldn't give to see her face right now. Illuminated by the moonlight, the pinkish glow of her face, the plump of her lips. I kissed her, tasting every corner of her mouth. I hold my cock that was begging for some fraction and guided its tip to her pussy. That first touch was EVERYTHING. Life made sense. I was made for her and she was made for me. Yes, I was nowhere near worthy of her but I would try. Try to be the man she deserves. To make her happy and please her. I would give anything in the world, do anything if she asked me to. I slowly slid all the way into her, stretching her out and my god, it felt so good. Feeling her warmth around me. I waited for her to adjust. She was holding her breath. It was clear that she was struggling.

"Breath sweetheart, it will hurt only for a second longer. I am right here. Breath"

The way that she was squirming under me, trying to take my cock made it even harder to hold myself back. All I wanted to was to fuck her till she begs me to stop. God, I wanted to make her cum on my cock. Her heartbeat started to increase and she started to move her hips. And that was all I needed. I started to move my hips. Bottoming her out once more. The sounds she was making and how her mouth fell into an 'o' was mesmerizing. I started to move my hips faster and faster. She held onto my arms. As my speed increased, the pressure she applied on my shoulders increased as well. She tried to raise up to kiss me, but before she could one of my arms went to grab her by the throat and kissed her passionately. The uncontrollable urge of possessiveness clouded my mind. The thought of someone else touching her this way or any way for that matter was enough for me to lose my mind. My thrusts become harder and harder. The kiss was now more messy, sloppy. I could feel myself getting closer.

Y/N’s POV

The way his big cock stretched me out was simply too much. I never wanted this moment to end. Him above me, his perfect hair out of place, his chiseled body glistening with sweat, and the animistic sounds that he made every time our hips touched. He was like a god. A god that was worshipping me. I felt close, so fucking close. All reason and logic were fucked out of my body. I felt him everywhere to the point that it was too much but also not close enough. I was delirious, him being in my didn't feel enough. So I wrapped my arms around his torso. My nipples bounced between us every time he thrust in me. I was more than close. I was right over the edge, and so was he. I opened my mouth,

"Matthew"

That was all that came out. Matthew's thrusts become sloppier but deeper. He reach down to my clit and started rubbing it. I was so sensitive so I tried to get away from his hand, but he held me tight at my place.

"I know sweetheart, let it go. Cum for me."

All the stars exploded in front of my eyes. All of my muscles first convulsed and then turned into limps. If it wasn't for the strong arms that were holding me up I would've just collapsed onto the mattress. He came into me with a loud groan and then collapsed onto me. Flesh on flesh we just lay there embracing one another. And at that moment I knew what peace was. I felt at home.

#matt murdock x reader #daredevil smut #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader fluff

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tanis-fics · 9 months ago

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Mismatch (or: Barry doesn't mesh well with leather)

In one of his visits to Parliament Tower, Barry tells Alice a story about him trying to deal with the Anderson brothers, with mixed results and incriminatory pictures to fill in the gaps. Barry wasn't keen on people laughing at him, but considering this was the first time he ever made Alice laugh, he could suck it up for the time being.

Pairing: Alice Wake & Barry Wheeler ♦ Words: 1832

[on ao3] ♦ [on squidgeworld] ♦ [read on site]

Barry took a deep breath after taking an equally big bite, the last bite in fact, of the casserole dish he brought with him that particular evening. He had been too busy that month to do it earlier, and to be frank, he liked being busy, but doing an escapade in between clients would be much easier if he didn't also insist on making the dish too. Curse his mom for instilling on him the miracles of a homemade meal.

Exhaling, he looked to the side. Despite him doing most of the talking Alice still had food on her plate, and while she looked significantly better than when he arrived, something told him he should probably stay a little more. He knew how it went. One minute it was fine and the next they were back on the tar pit. He remembered.

Humming, he called, conspiratorially.

"Hey, Alice." She raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

He dragged his chair just a bit closer, but not enough to be on her space.

"D'you wanna see something funny?" She eyed him with suspicion, but Barry put on his best face.

"...Sure."

Grinning, he quickly grabbed his phone, searching for something.

"You remember the Anderson brothers, right?"

"The senile old men you took off from retiring?"

"The older gentlemen I'm managing, giving them another shot at fame, yes." Scrolling, scrolling, he set the stage in the meantime. "Terrific fellas the two of them, really, and a great band... But they really like their aesthetic."

Alice made a face, as if trying to picture them. Good. Keep her engaged.

"Nordic, right?"

Barry laughed.

"Well, yeah, if the eye patch and the occasional hammer and their names are anything to go by. But no, no, I mean... They like their metal heavy and their leather black, if you catch my drift."

With a mouthful of food, Alice could only shrug and do a gesture with her hand, more confused than anything else. Barry looked at her with a smile when he finally found what he was looking for.

"So, the other day we were on a rehearsal, right? Toying with the idea of a new song and all that, and Tor -the one without the eye patch- keeps staring at me, right? Giving me a real stink eye, which is odd but you know, it happens," Alice's mouth twitched, "and I go

'Hey man, what seems to be the problem?' And he just keeps looking at me up and down like I, I don't know, like I'm dating his daughter or somethin', and he points at me like this and says:

'You're messing with our vibe, man, how can we practice if you're there looking like that!'

'Like what?' I ask, because, I swear, I was looking like I always do!

'All those colors and patterns, it's not rock & roll at all!'"

Alice's plate was nearly finished by now, and despite the slight huff, prelude of a laugh that never came, she kept squinting up at him and at his cellphone clearly wondering where this story was going. Barry gestured with his hands, trying to summarize.

"And now Odin joins in, puts a hand on my shoulder and goes

'It's okay, sonny, we know exactly what to do in these situations, we'll get you fixed in no time! We know places, you know?' Which is insane because they never set foot on New York before I brought them in but anyway. Long story short. Guess what happened."

She blinked, vaguely surprised there even was public interaction, but be it curiosity or wanting to get this over with she indulged him:

"I don't know, Barry, what happened?"

Barry shook his head dramatically, dragging a long suffering sigh before finally, finally, giving her his cellphone. Alice's eyes scanned the picture on it, eyes widening.

"They took me shopping. Said not to worry about the money, sonny, they weren't rock stars for anything. Said that they had all the time in the world until we found something I could wear that matches their energy, too -which is bullshit, of course, ‘cuz they're ancient, but I try not to think too much about that- So there I was, kidnapped by a couple geezers for an entire day, trying out clothes that were barely, barely more decent than what I imagine leather night at a gay club must feel like."

Barry was exaggerating for the bit, of course. It hadn't been an entire day and, all things considered, the clothes weren't half bad either. He even looked good in some of the outfits they arranged for him. But he never got around to liking dressing in black, it made him feel too serious, too formal. Like he was attending a funeral.

From the two, Alan had been the one who always looked good in black...

At the end of the day Barry couldn't pretend he didn't had fun with the old men however, he was growing fond of them crazy bastards. They even found a middle ground that evening! He would wear their awesome t-shirts (you just couldn't get more metal than that, he swore) and on top of that, his usual phony shirts. Free advertising! He chuckled, considering if adding that happy ending to his story or not when a snicker interrupted his train of thought.

Alice was scrolling through the pictures with a hand atop her face, a poor attempt to hide the growing smile when the creases around her eyes and the snickers that so wanted to become laughs betrayed her. Barry smiled, smugly and proud.

"Oh my God..."

"I know right." He scooted closer to see which one she was looking at and was met with his own face, red from embarrassment, as he pathetically tried making horns with his hands with a very excited Anderson brother in each shoulder looking as vibrant as vikings. He looked the part, with a leather jacket that made him feel like he was being cooked alive and a handherchief tied around his head that left a mark for the next two days. Barry shared that information with her, and he didn't even need to exaggerate this time for her to finally crack.

Hearing Alice laugh was... odd. In the grand scheme of things they've known each other for many, many years, yet it feels like the first time Barry actually heard her laugh. It was a joyous, bright thing. An old sneer crossed his face, remembering his beloved friend's own words when they first started seeing each other, but he had to agree.

It was surprising, too, feeling it break the quiet atmosphere of the department for the first time since... well. Since he's been dropping by. The clinical white light appearing just a tad warmer.

"Why, why do you look so...? So...?"

"So what? Red? Tight? Uncomfortable?"

"...Yeah..."

"'Cuz I was. Just look at this shit."

He went ahead and showed her the next pictures himself, grinning at the very physical reaction of Alice holding her stomach, laughing at the complete misery on his face. Misery, helplessness, eyes reaching out for help that never came. Who knew his discomfort was going to be enough to make her crack? That devious woman... Barry laughed. Maybe they could get along after all.

"You look terrible." He snorted.

"Yeah."

"It looks like they're holding you at gunpoint."

"Believe me, it felt like it."

"You..."

"Careful, lady. Only the first couple insults are free."

That sobered her up a little, raising an eyebrow.

"W, what's the price?"

Gotcha.

He looked up to the window, humming.

"You know, it's a pretty nice day outside. Sun shinning, birds singing, the whole shtick... When was the last time you went out for, say, grocery shopping?" Alice expression shifted, then, to understanding and disbelief. The ghost of her previous smile lingered, though, as she crossed her arms across her chest.

"I don't know. Couple of days."

"Tell you what. You get an unlimited amount of insults today if you let me help you go out, do some shopping, whatever. It's a one of a kind deal, doesn't even have to do with these pictures."

Alice stared at him in more than just disbelief, corner of her mouth still curved despite the cold pang of her eyes, and Barry took a breath. Throw the lure and wait for the fish to bite was easier said than done, moreso when the fish knew exactly what was coming, but he made sure to put on his sales pitch voice, the one he knew Alice despised. He just hoped it didn't backfire spectacularly.

"I, " she started, laughing a bit as she shook her head. It sounded more sardonic than before though. Acidic. "I hate you, Barry. You know that, right? I hate you."

He let the air he was holding. In a way, it almost felt better to have the chance to be honest.

"I'm well aware, yeah."

"That's not an insult, by the way, it's just a fact."

"I know, I know..."

"..." Her smile was almost an afterthought now, and Barry started to believe this was a bad idea, when her sharp eyes, that only seemed to be that way when he was around, softened ever so slightly. In dignified silence she gathered the last piece of food remaining on the plate and ate it with moderate gusto, and Barry sat back, itching for an answer. After cleaning the corners of her mouth with a tissue she took the phone out of his hands again, glancing at it with a much deeper, longer hum. "You... look like a circus clown who got mugged and had to get all his new clothes from a leather shop."

"Ouch!" He hissed dramatically, gripping the front of his shirt in mocking pain. "That really hurt... So, what would you like for dinner?"

"...Haven't had a good salad in a while, you know?" He wrinkled his nose at the blandness of the request, expecting something more grandiose, and Alice bit a laugh of her own.

"And a salad you shall have, then. The best salad you can possibly imagine." His statement was met with a raised eyebrow, before putting his bluster away for good, rising his hand to show he meant it.

Alice looked at it unimpressed, followed by a frown and a grimace that could be a smile, or a smile that tried so hard to be a grimace, before shaking his hand. Barry grinned.

"Pleasure doing business with you."

"Yeah, well." The grimace that could or could not be something else gave way to a genuine smile, a glint of amusement painting her tired eyes. "I guess you'd have more stories like this. I'm sure we'll have a lot of time today for you to tell them to me."

Oh, Barry was going to regret this for sure. But, for now, seeing Alice hold herself better, more stable, and seeing a warmer color breath life to her cheeks, was enough. He supposed it was worth it.

#alan wake #barry wheeler #alice wake #alan wake fanfic

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wolfkg · 1 year ago

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Never Alone

Billy Hargrove x Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

A/n: Sorry for the longe wait. This chapter is pretty short but I'm still happy with it. Still not sure where this story is going or hoe it will end but I like where I'm taking it. Thanks for the love of this series. More to come.

Part 4

Y/n’s Pov

Darkness. That’s all I saw around me, total darkness. It felt like I couldn’t feel my own body as darkness surrounded me. I screamed out to the void not getting a response, I don’t know here I am or what happened, but I didn’t like being here. “Eddie! Billy! Hello!” Nothing but a dark black abbas giving me no sense of direction. I was lost, alone and scared. I felt my heart rate pick up as my body began to shake as I screamed out for the two people that mean the world to me who can possibly save me from this void. “HELP!!” I fell to my knees in despair just wanting to go home. Then something in the void changed, I heard something in the distance and began to follow it. The sound became louder as I moved farther into the darkness. Once I was close enough, I could finally hear Eddie and Billy’s voices but not just them talking, they were singing. Singing my song. I felt tears leave my eyes as I began running to their voices hoping to come across my boys in this darkness. Their voices were fading in and out, but I could still hear them. “Eddie, Billy! Can you hear me? Hello? Help me!” The sound of them singing was then behind me which made me turn around. Behind me was a big blue door with a silver handle, I slowly walked towards it cautiously not knowing where it would take me but knowing my boys were in this direction.

I place my hand on the handle opening the door. The sight that I walked into was hard to take in, it was a hospital room all around the area was still in a black void but the hospital bed, monitor and my boys sitting at the end of the bed remained. I walked through the threshold of the door and began to feel tears in my eyes as I listened to my boys sing my song. I was about to speak to them when I finally noticed who was on the hospital bed. I then came face to face with myself sleeping soundly but breathing rapidly, I sat on the bed looking at myself not believing what I’m seeing but not questioning it from how much we’ve all been through these last few years, with the upside down and Vecna, I’m glad thats all behind us and we can move on. I looked back at my boys where they came to the last verse making me smile at them and place my hand on both of theirs. The second they finished the song all my worry was gone, and I was happy to see them again. My body finally stopped shaking and all the monitors stopped beeping wildly and went back to normal. “She’s ok Ed’s” I smile at hearing their voices “Yea wait till she finds out we know her favorite song.” I laugh along with Billy “Yea will never hear the end of it.” I nod “No you both wont.” After they spoke their voices disappeared and a bright light was coming from the door I walked through. I warm feeling came over me as I walked closer to it, I wasn’t really paying attention to what I was doing or where it would go until I heard my heart monitor beep slower, and I immediately moved away. I tested it by walking back to the bed hearing the monitor go back to normal. I realize that wherever I am is giving me a choice to either stay or leave. A big decision I never thought I would have to make. If I leave and say goodbye to my boys forever or do I stay with them but must deal with this town and Jason that caused all this to happen, not only that but by now I assume the doctors would know my real age and take me away anyway. It’s a lose-lose situation. I move away from the door and sit back onto the bed where Billy and Eddie sit, I watch as they look after me while also looking stressed out themselves. Would it be easier for all of us if I just accepted what happened to me as a sign to just give up? Billy and Eddie would have normal lives again, be able to do the things they want without me stopping them. But if I stay, will everything change or be the same? Would the doctors have someone take me away right away or give me time? Not that I own anything anymore, it's all gone. Nowhere to live, nothing but the clothes on my back, I know the boys would just have me stay with them, but I couldn’t ask them to do that. I don’t want to be a burden. I got out of my head looking at my boys talk amongst each other never taking their hands away from mine, knowing that they would do anything for me. And I know they wouldn’t want to give up, especially not on us. I can feel the pull from the door beckoning me to enter and leave for good, but I can't not with so many people who care about me. I stood up from my seat and came face to face with the door giving myself a big sigh “I can’t I’m not ready.” The door then immediately shut, and the pull was gone.

I turned back to the bed and saw my body was glowing a light blue and beckoned me to it. I took one last look at my boys knowing that I made the right choice, we would be better if were together. So, I took a deep breath and placed my hand onto my own which sent of a bright like taking me into darkness. The feeling of air coming back into my lungs hit me like a train as my eyes shot open making me see nothing but blurry images and hearing soft voices. I felt feeling come back into my body as I moved all my muscles and took a deep breath which caused me to cough a little. My eyes finally adjusted to everything around me, and I found myself in a hospital room surrounded by people I love including my boys. Tears suddenly left my eyes as they both looked in my direction, all I remember is Jason leaving me to die and thinking I would never see them again but seeing in front of me brought me to realize that everything was ok. I was ok. But I still ended up asking. “Are you real?” Both boys came to my side and held my hands “Hey, baby its ok we’re here we’re real.” Billy wiped my tears away as Eddie kissed my head “I thought I’d never see you both again.” They both smile my way as Eddie spoke “It’s ok Y/n, everything's ok now.” I smile but then shake my head “We’re in the hospital, aren't we?” They both sigh and nodded knowing what I was going to say. “That means my age. They're going to know and when they do, they will.” Before I continued both boys reassured me that I wasn't going anywhere, and Hopper spoke “They are going to give Eddie and Billy a chance to take you in and take care of you.” I looked at them both in shock, were they willing to take me in? I shouldn't be surprised they’ve been trying to get me to move in with them for months. I smile there way “You would really do that?” Billy laughed “Darling is that even a question? Of course, we would.” I smile and then notice the bandages on both their hands and the soot in their hair and clothes. “Why are you guys dirty?” Before they could answer the doctor walked in asking if he could speak to Hopper and Joyce, leaving us alone for the first time.

“Boys? Why are you dirty and smell like smoke?” Then I realized there not telling me because I already knew. I remember seeing the boys in my room, which means they went in after me, they risked their lives to save me. “You both ran into my house to save me?” They both nodded as tears fell down my face “Then I owe you both my life, without either one of you I wouldn’t be here, so thank you to the both of you.” They smile and both kiss my cheeks. “We would do anything for you sweetheart.” Before we could continue talking a commotion caught our attention from outside the room, Billy was about to investigate when the door slammed open revealing a woman I never wanted to see again. My mother. “Get back from my daughter the both of you, you are not family, you are not allowed in here.” I was verbally shaking as Billy spoke “I’m sorry but who gave you the right to be here?” my mother barked back “I am her mother, and I suggest young man that you step out of this room along with your friend or I will have you removed.” Before Billy could say anything back the doctor walked in with Hopper, so my mother thought they were here from her call “Finally Doctor remove them from this room immediately Officer I suggest by force they seem aggressive, and when can my daughter be allowed to leave for home?” I was shaking in fear and not knowing what to do or how I could get out of this, I can't get home with her, I just can't. But the doctors might side with her since she's my mother and I’m only eighteen. I can’t breathe. “Ma’am let's talk about this out here Y/n has been through a lot tonight, so I suggest giving her some rest.” She laughs “Do you really think I’m going to leave my daughter in this room with two men? You have another thing coming. Remove them now or I will have you lose your job.” Hopper only laughed as he grabbed my mother's arm escorting her out. “Like I said ma'am let's talk out here.” “Unhand me.” But he pulled her out of the room none the less, telling Billy to keep an eye of me and he’ll make sure she won't step into this room.

#x reader #eddie munson #billy hargrove #eddie x reader #billy hargove x reader #stranger things #y/n x character #y/n

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rrxnjun · 2 years ago

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i'm not bitter anymore (i'm syrupy sweet) ;; ljn

pairing: lee jeno x fem! reader genre: slight band au, college au | fluff, hurt/comfort wc: 4.8k (4.817) warnings: mentions of alcohol, swearing

a spin-off to my fic i'm not angry anymore (well, sometimes i am) where jeno gets a redemption arc <3

When you first meet Lee Jeno, his exterior calls at you with hard chords that keep slowly burning out. Now, rather than a piercing echo, he holds himself to you like a soft melody.

Lee Jeno sits on his bed, chewing on his bottom lip as he nervously types into the chat he has opened, kicking his leg up and down in a steady, but fast rhythm. Looking around the room for one moment, trying to calm himself down with a loud breath in and out, he glances back at the phone screen and rereads the sentence he wrote over and over again, trying to hear it in his own head, desperately needing the tone to be just right.

hey i thought of you while making this haha

Furrowing his brows, he deletes the words he wrote, huffing out in frustration. He sounds too awkward. Too casual, even. He doesn’t know how these two even go together, but somehow, he managed to do it. He didn’t know he was able to get across two very different emotions in one sentence, but he thinks that this is perhaps his new talent. Maybe he can use it in songwriting someday… if he ever gets back into music, that is.

Fastly typing on the screen, holding in his breath, he changes the sentence from its base and finds himself reading over the new one, trying to figure out if it’s better.

hi! i made you this. listen to it if you have time!

His eyes scan over the words countless times again, hating the way it sounds in his brain. This is too enthusiastic. Too joyful, sounding piercing in his brain. This is not how he wants you to perceive him. Not after all this time, not after all the emotions you’ve awakened in him. Is this the same emotion he used to see in Ryusol’s eyes whenever she used to look at him last year? It’s scary to think that he let her down so much, but he finds comfort in knowing that Yangyang was there to catch her when he let her go. Maybe he wouldn’t be so stupid if he understood this emotion all this time ago. Maybe he wouldn’t have made so many mistakes…

Cracking his knuckles, he rolls his eyes at himself and deletes the message again, promising himself that this is going to be the last attempt. He either nails it, or he doesn’t– in this case, he will keep the whole thing a secret and never attempt to subtly hint you his feelings ever again.

hey y/n :) i made you a playlist

The message is simple. The smiley face gives it more sparkle, a sense of emotion, even. The tone it reads inside of his brain is casual, but with a giving undertone– he hopes it gets through to you in the same way. Adding the spotify link to the playlist he made for you, he finally presses the send button and throws the phone away to the other side of his bed, not wanting to see you react to it in real time. That’s too stressful. He’s not used to the frantic speed of his heart whenever he’s around you yet.

If he really thinks about it, this might be the first time he’s ever tried for someone. All of those times before, girls threw themselves at him at every step he took, every song he used to sing with his band, making countless hopeless hearts break for him when he only stayed with them for one night. He’s never had to try for anyone. He’s never had to do nice things for someone, he’s never had to pay attention to the conversations he was having, he’s never had to give gifts to girls to get them to be with him. They came naturally to him, and he never really cared about their emotions anyway. Love wasn’t something he was inclined to feel, and he never felt the need to have someone by his side for long enough.

Perhaps, he was battling loneliness more effectively– without having to try to make someone stay, he chose to have a different girl every night. It was easier. He never got attached, so it meant that he never had the chance to get his heart broken. Sometimes, he didn’t even realize he was breaking somebody’s heart– he never quite understood how somebody could feel deeper for him, when all they saw was the surface he chose to show to everyone at his concerts and after parties. The first time it dawned on him was when he broke Ryusol’s heart. Maybe that was the moment that opened his eyes.

Lee Jeno thinks he’s never tried for anyone before. In his eyes, this is the first time he’s openly caring for someone.

He doesn’t think about all those times he helped you with your assignments. He doesn’t think about all those times he assured you you looked nice or all those times when he went grocery shopping with you at 8pm, even though he was tired and you lived 20 minutes away. He doesn’t think about all those times he’s given you a ride home and about all those times when he walked you to school, helping you revise for your exams.

It doesn’t click for him when he breaks his habits, even. When he doesn’t try to get you to sleep with him the first night you sleep over at his house when you’re too tired to walk to your dorms, when he doesn’t leave you on read for three days or when he actually listens to what you’re saying, offering advice when needed and being the shoulder for you to cry on when you don’t really feel like solving your problems.

It only clicks for him when he sends you the link to the spotify playlist he made while thinking about you late last night, adding the song he recorded about you and posted to his new solo spotify account last week.

Perhaps Lee Jeno still only expresses himself through music.

Sitting in the university auditorium, Jeno finds himself to be hyper-aware of your presence next to him. You’re sitting in the very last row, accompanied by all of Jeno’s friends– Renjun, Donghyuck, Mark, Jaemin, Chenle and Hendery (even though the band isn’t active anymore and they broke it off for the best for everyone), hell, even Ryusol and Yangyang, even though the boy doesn’t even go to university. It’s kind of surreal how one year can change everything, Jeno thinks; what he thought was the best for him was now broken off, and the friendships he found himself to be mistreating now had stronger bonds than ever.

He wonders how you even ended up in the middle of it all, in the middle of his small galaxy. You two met in the club, where you were working part-time and he often went to drown his feelings away. After he had a falling out with his friends because of the way he was acting when he was too busy with chasing fame with his band, he found himself to be the loneliest he’s ever been, now that he didn’t have the support of others and the screaming rows full of girls that were all over him. Without the band, he often felt like nothing– worthless, not interesting.

But then you came– asking him if he was the Lee Jeno from the band, and if he was feeling alright after the band’s breakup. No one’s ever asked him about it before. It opened up a pit in him, made him cross all his barriers and finally let his feelings take over. It’s mainly on you that he managed to apologize to everyone and realize what he lost.

And ever since that night, he found himself not wanting to let you go.

Nervously kicking his knee up and down, he feels the contact of your hand on his thigh, trying to calm him down. Looking at you from above, he tries to fake a smile as you squeeze his flesh and intertwine your fingers with his, shaking your hands in enthusiasm. Leaning closer to him, you whisper encouraging words into his ear.

“You’re gonna rock it, Jeno.”

Snickering, he shakes his head. “It’s an acoustic set, Y/N. I can’t rock it.”

Rolling your eyes in mock annoyance, you shake your head. “You know what I meant. So stop stressing, you’re a professional.”

It’s been months since Jeno last sang on the stage. His band was no longer in service, but all of his friends and bandmates still encouraged him to join the university’s recital– he was a good musician with a good voice, and his songs had more depth this time around. He almost gets emotional at the growth he’s made, but there’s no time for that when he notices the person in front of him being done with their song, meaning that it’s now his time to shine.

Seconds before he stands up from his place and takes his acoustic guitar with him, you reach over to his hair and ruffle it with admiration. The blush that forms on Jeno’s face is hardly noticeable from the bright lights of the stage, but it still makes Yangyang and Renjun snicker from their seats– they know this state all too well.

Lee Jeno doesn’t realize that now, this is you trying.

No one’s ever tried so subtly for him before.

“So, which one do you wanna watch?” you ask as you stumble around his messy room, getting his laptop and laying next to him on the bed. You’ve been trying to make him watch your favorite movies with you for the last half an hour, and when you finally succeeded after giving him countless options, he insisted that he’s too lazy to get the laptop himself.

Sometimes, he’s a pain in the ass. But more than often, you don’t find yourself caring.

“Hm?” you poke his side as you turn on the computer and type in his password (that you helped him out with when he first got his new laptop. He didn’t know what to set it as and you told him to make it your name as a joke. He hasn’t changed it since.), waiting for him to reply.

“I dunno,” he shrugs, “what do you want to watch the most?”

“I asked you first! I’ve seen most of them already, so I don’t really care much,” you mutter, opening Netflix and turning to him when the pincode comes up, raising your brows up.

“0423,” he mumbles before continuing, “why do you even want to watch movies that you’ve already seen? Isn’t that boring to you?”

“Your pin code is your birthday? That’s… so unsafe,” you mutter as you type it in, shaking your head at your friend’s antics, “and I like watching movies I’ve already seen, because it gives me a new perspective. And also, I like watching your reactions when you watch movies. Your face lights up and stuff, it’s adorable.”

Jeno feels his cheeks getting red again, but he tries to hide it by pulling up the hood of his hoodie, shifting a little in the bed to leave you more space. “Which one have you watched the most times?” he asks.

“Hmm… probably Dirty Dancing,” you muse, grinning, “I’ve seen it like 15 times already.”

“Can we watch that one?” he mumbles, seeing your fingers dancing along the keyboard already, typing the movie title in and searching through the page to find it.

“Why?”

“I dunno… ‘cause it’s obviously your favorite?” he says, not realizing the implication his words have, only stating what he truly means. When you silently click on the movie and let it play, laying next to your friend and putting the laptop onto his lap so you can cuddle into his side, he wonders if this is what all friends do on cold afternoons.

He wonders if there’s something more in the way you wrap your arms around him, if there’s something more in the way you look at him from time to time when your favorite scene of the movie occurs or when you hum the soundtrack under your breath, trying to make him join you just so you could hear his voice. He might have a lot of experience with girls, but when it comes to relationships, he’s utterly clueless.

And when he giggles at the scene with Baby’s sister singing, moving very sternly from side to side, hearing you replicating the scene into his ear almost word-to-word, he doesn’t regret choosing the most corny, romantic movie he’s ever heard of. He might even comply if you asked him to learn the choreography with you. He’s not opposed to anything.

When the movie comes to an end and the final credits roll, he feels a soft peck pressed to his jaw, keeping him from looking at you in fear of not seeing the admiration he so deeply desires to see in your eyes.

He wonders if this was you trying.

“What’s the deal with you and Y/N?” Jaemin asks one day, silent enough to not make the rest of the friend group hear, but loud enough to land in Jeno’s ears and make him look at his friend with shock.

“Nothing…?” he replies, but already feels his cheeks heatening. He despises how his emotions always show in his face. He wants to be cool about everything, but it’s hard to look unbothered when every small thing about you makes his heart race and makes his brain turn into a fuzzy mess.

“Sure,” Jaemin grins with a knowing smile, making Jeno roll his eyes. Of course Jaemin noticed. He always notices first, it seems– the boy has a good nose for human emotion. Perhaps it’s his very well developed sense of empathy. Jeno wonders if he’s good at relationship advice as well, but since you and him aren’t dating, he figures it’s too early to ask.

“Nothing yet, I guess? I don’t know…” Jeno mumbles under his nose, sensing that he can trust Jaemin. The boy knowingly nudges him into his waist, making the older one (by 4 months only, but that’s still something) grunt in mock annoyance.

“Oh would you look at that, our local player finally let his heart soften for someone!” Jaemin exclaims, still paying enough attention to not being too loud, leaving you deep in conversation with Yangyang and Ryusol in the back of the group.

“Stop,” Jeno rolls his eyes, but grins at the comment.

“I love this for you, though. Ever since you’ve known her, you’re different. You’re nicer, you’re paying more attention to others, hell, you don’t even drink anymore. I think this is a good thing,” Jaemin says with an encouraging smile.

“Jaemin, stop talking like my therapist, please,” Jeno mutters, trying hard to compose his expression.

“I mean it, though! It’s… it’s nice to see you actually trying for someone, you know. I hope this works out for you two,” his words are sincere and sweet, leaving Jeno in hesitance. He’s never heard any of his friends encouraging him in a relationship with someone before. He’s never been this close to anyone before, his emotions were never this deep– all of his past encounters with girls were purely sexual, and he can’t even imagine how he could ever live like that.

But before he can open his mouth to reply to Jaemin, he feels your warm hand in his (he doesn’t even have to turn around to know it’s you. He’s not used to the feeling of your hand in his– he just purely senses your presence.), catching him off-guard with the feeling of falling he gets inside of his stomach, suffocating a little.

Looking around at you, seeing you smiling, a sentence of “What are you two gossiping about?” uttered out of your lips, Jeno finds himself content with the state he’s in right now.

It feels good to try for someone.

Noticing you shivering as you two sit in the cafeteria, Jeno finds himself feeling like a worried mum for the first time. Squinting at the open windows, as if he could be mad at inanimate objects for the state they can’t control, he curses in his mind at whoever decided it was a good idea to leave them open in the middle of November.

“Are you cold?” he asks the obvious, seeing you look at him with wide eyes, reminding him of Bambi. A burst of admiration spreads on his insides, but when you reply, he can’t help but glare at you.

“No.”

“What do you mean, no? You keep shivering. You should’ve taken a hoodie with you, you know it gets cold out here,” he mutters, seeing you roll your eyes at him.

“I forgot,” you peep, “but that’s okay. I was stupid and now I have to bear the consequences,” you say, making the boy’s protective instincts kick in once again, finding himself automatically taking off his large hoodie and throwing it into your lap.

“Wear it,” he says.

“But you’re gonna get cold-”

“I can bear the cold. Wear it or else you’ll get sick again, your immune system is more unstable than my mental health. I don’t need you stuck at home with a fever for two weeks again, I’d get bored to death,” he says, trying to reason with you, while also simultaneously trying to make it seem more casual than it felt inside of him.

“Jeno-”

“Can you please just wear it?” he asks, seeing you finally back down, smiling as you put the hoodie on and tug the sleeves down to make the most adorable sweater paws, making the boy coo on the inside.

You look absolutely adorable in his eyes. He never really knew how it feels to see someone you adore in your clothes– while he’s lent his jackets to random girls in the bar countless of times before, it never really held any significance to him. But seeing you in his jacket, drowning in the fabric as he likes his own clothes a little oversized, he can’t help but feel his heart swell with the sight. You should borrow his clothes more often.

Maybe he could “accidentally” leave one at your place once. Maybe you’ll wear it if you find it there. He won’t know about it unless you tell him, but the thought is enough for the boy to go crazy about the imagination.

“You look good,” slips out of his lips, making him instantly curse at himself on the inside. This might just be the corniest situation of his whole entire life– and he’s sent you a playlist before.

Looking at him from under your eyelashes, you almost look shy as you burrow your nose into the fabric of the hoodie, smiling at him. “Thanks.”

“You can… keep it if you’d like,” he hesitantly says, not knowing what’s gotten into him. If Jaemin was here, he’d scream and yell at him for being this awkward with you. He’s known you for quite a few months now– he should already be used to the way you make him feel by now.

You grin at him as you nod, looking away from his eyes and breaking the burning eye-contact. “Okay,” you say.

The table falls silent for a second, both of you too immersed into your own head to register the quietness, when you move in your place and reach towards your hair, dragging the scrunchie that was holding your hair up off your hair, letting your locks fall free on the gray fabric of Jeno’s hoodie. Running your hand through your hair to shake it off a little and give it volume, you turn to Jeno and take his hand into yours before sliding the light-pink scrunchie onto his hand, giggling at the contrast of it against his all-black outfit.

Jeno looks at you with furrowed brows. What’s this supposed to be? Why is your hair tie suddenly on his wrist?

When your eyes lock for a split second, you must notice his confusion. “Keep it,” you say.

And he will. He’s convinced he would keep anything you give him, even if he found no interest in the thing, or if he found the item to be the most unuseful thing in the whole world. It’s from you, so it’s important.

He doesn’t know what the whole action means– he’s too clueless to understand the girl code. He doesn’t know that this was him marking you his, and you letting the world know he’s yours. The item exchange was solely a game of your hearts. A slight push forward to giving this whole thing a new title.

He doesn’t know that this was you trying. But he feels he’s too impatient to keep waiting for signs any longer.

When you first meet Lee Jeno, his exterior calls at you with hard chords that keep slowly burning out.

You never really liked your job at the bar. It was too loud, you came in contact with too many men with high egos that thought they could make your day any better, and you also had nothing else to do than to observe people the whole night. Observing the guests of your bar was one of your favorite activities. Sometimes, you make up a whole story about them in your brain, puzzling the pieces together with a bit of fantasy; sometimes, they come to you and tell you all about their problems and why they chose to drink them away at the bar tonight.

Jeno was no different. You knew about him– because realistically speaking, who didn’t? He had quite the reputation in the town, and you can’t say that the one he had amongst girls he slept with was a good one. You heard all about him from your coworkers– he’s a showstopper, a bad liar, drama starter, a player, fuckboy… you name it, he’s probably been called that name before. And you can’t say you didn’t believe those words, not when you saw him at the bar with that confident smirk of his every other night, but this one evening, when you actually came in contact with the boy, you thought they might have been lying about him just the slightest.

He came to you with a dark look on his face, ordering himself a drink. He seemed out of it– like most days, lately– and you suddenly thought about all the rumors that spread around the town when his band broke up, wondering if they were true and if he really was such a dick everyone made him out to be. His expression is remorseful, the look never leaving his face, and you suddenly catch yourself asking him if he’s okay, met with surprise in his eyes.

You think you must be the first one to ever care about how he feels.

When you first meet Lee Jeno, his exterior calls at you with hard chords that keep slowly burning out. When you get to know him, the contrast between his inside and the act he puts out for everyone to see gets harsher and harsher.

You learn a lot about him over time. They said he was overly-confident when he was starting the band– you just think he was ambitious. They said he was a liar– you just thought he never really had the full picture. They said he was a player– you just thought he never really thought he was playing with anyone’s heart. They all said he would hurt you– you told them you don’t see that happening any time soon.

Nobody believed in him until he put himself back together. Nobody but you.

“I think I’m in love with you,” he whispers into the dark one night, his face illuminated by the show he put up on Netflix to just mumble in the background, when you’re too tired to go back to the campus and choose to stay over at his place, because you sleep better by his side anyway. His words don’t surprise you, if you really think about it– they just fall into place, filling you with a soft harmony, making you 100% content.

Turning your body to him, his expression is nervous and he keeps biting at his lower lip, the habit of pulling at his chapped skin making itself known again like in any situation like this. You don’t even realize there’s a smile spreading on your face, a soft one, to be exact– because that’s how everything with Jeno was so far.

“Can I kiss you?” you reply with a question, catching the boy off guard. Breathless, he nods, letting you completely in, breaking all the walls he’s spent ages building up around himself.

He’s had a lot of experience with girls and you’re sure as hell he’s kissed more than a couple of them in his life before, but when kissing you, he’s as nervous as the first time, a shy boy looking at you from under his eyelashes as you lean closer to him and nudge his nose with yours before connecting your lips together in what feels like a seal of something new.

When you first meet Lee Jeno, his exterior calls at you with hard chords that keep slowly burning out. When you first kiss him, he’s the softest entity.

There’s something unexplainable about the contrast of his dark hair, harsh jawline and the chains on his clothing with the unbearable softness of his kiss, the movement of his lips against yours almost hesitant to get more, afraid of going too far and messing up the moment. The humming of Netflix is no more than a background noise when you pull away from him for just a second, gasping for air and going for more, this time deeper, letting the boy know that he doesn’t have to fear you, that although you’re fragile, in his arms, you have no chance of breaking. His palm, adorned with cold silver on his fingers, comes in contact with your jaw, steading the movement. The touch burns you up, makes you yearn for more, but he still holds you like you’re the finest piece of porcelain, treasuring you so much more than anyone ever before, the drunkenness of being in love with someone completely changing his brain chemistry.

Pulling away from him once again, the state of him takes all air out of your lungs. In the white glow of the TV, Lee Jeno looks up at you with eyes an endless pool of serenity, all wide and glimmering, his lips swollen and parted, aching for more. His cheeks are a little tinted, his raven hair falling into his forehead a little disheveled, his strong features shining with a softened glow, inviting you in for more. You want to keep this image of him forever.

“Thank you for giving me a chance,” he whispers again, into the dark, making the pit in your stomach deepen. He must have felt like everyone gave up on him– like there was no other script for him and he was left with nothing at all. You wonder if he truly thought he would never get a second chance again. You wonder if he really thought he messed it up this bad.

Something about his words makes you want to kiss him again. You lean into him, catching his cheeks into your palms– almost feeling like you’re holding your whole world– and see his eyes flutter close when your breathing fans over his lips, softly taking him in again.

His hands are a little cold when he covers yours, still sitting at his face. “I’m in love with you,” you whisper against his lips, thinking to all the times you wanted to say it but couldn’t, knowing it’s too soon and he’s not ready for it yet. You took things at his pace– he’s never been in a serious relationship before, and you didn’t know if he was prepared to have one, prepared to get attached, prepared to let you stay, when all everyone ever did was leave him. You wonder if the trajectory of his life would have gone differently if his father was still present– even though it’s still only an explanation, not an excuse– but you think you’re perfectly content with watching him grow by your side.

When your lips grow tired of the kissing, you smile against each other’s lips, holding each other close. The vulnerability of it all breaks you into pieces and glues itself together in one swift moment, wanting to treasure this moment forever.

When you first meet Lee Jeno, his exterior calls at you with hard chords that keep slowly burning out. Now, rather than a piercing echo, Lee Jeno holds himself to you like a soft melody.

You’re the first person Lee Jeno ever tried for. But even now, that he’s so sure you’re his and you’re not leaving any time soon, he’s convinced that for you, he’ll always keep trying.

#nct #nct dream #lee jeno #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #jeno x reader #jeno fluff #jeno imagine #jeno angst #jeno drabble #nct fluff #nct imagine #nct angst #nct drabble #nct dream scenario #nct dream drabble #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff

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mc-lukanette · 4 years ago

Note

Have you considered writing a "Truth" fix-it with Marinette admitting her secret to Luka? Maybe he could be a confidant like Marianne was for Fu.

Truth was having a terrible, awful, rotten, very bad day. If he could use his powers on the universe, he would've asked what he did to deserve this kind of treatment.

It started with his girlfriend keeping a secret from him concerning her ditching their dates, then escalated to Jagged Stone - who'd been his idol for years - turning out to be the father who abandoned him, and now he was fighting Ladybug and Chat Noir in Marinette's room after he’d been told by multiple people that Marinette’s supposed “secret” was that she was in love with Adrien, as if he hadn’t already known that and they just wanted to mock him.

His civilian self had never been never someone to presume, but now it's all he could do. Marinette must've ditched him because she didn't really love him, Jagged probably never even felt bad about abandoning him, and despite Adrien never even trying to win Marinette's heart, he was just better than Luka in every way, because the rich model with all the connections Marinette could ever want would always outmatch the "guitar boy" who worked a part-time job, lived on a houseboat, and had parents who either kept secrets from him or flat-out didn't want him.

Had it not been for his akumatization working to drive him towards a goal without interference, he would've cried. He wanted nothing more than to wake up and think the whole thing was just a bad nightmare, with dating Marinette just being brief highlights of it that kept getting shot down with a reminder that he wasn't good enough.

He wanted it all to be over.

Chat Noir was still trying to banter with him, but Truth wasn't having it. While going after Ladybug first wasn't ideal, as she was the smarter out of the two, it was easier to get rid of Chat Noir and deal with the heroes one at a time.

Thus, when Ladybug had run across the room to use her Lucky Charm, Truth acted. He managed to grab Chat Noir and throw him into the chest that Ladybug had been hiding in before, then locked it tight to prevent Chat from escaping. That done, he went after Ladybug, who was stunned but nevertheless prepared to fight. Chat Noir being out of the picture didn't impact her ability to fight, but Truth had Pharo on his side to knock Ladybug around when it was too hard to get a spotlight on her.

Finally, he managed to tackle her, her lying on her back and him pinning her arms down. The chest nearby rattled in protest, but Pharo shined its spotlight on it, preventing it from moving anymore.

Truth watched as Ladybug looked around for a method of escape, but she came up empty. Her eyes widened in the realization that... this was it. This was the end.

"Now," Truth said, clamping down harder on her arms as he leaned down, "tell me the truth!"

Ladybug tried to shut her lips tight, but he could see her struggling, her body shaking as she tried to free her arms to stop herself. It was only a matter of time.

Then, her mouth opened, and out came the words, "I love you, Luka!"

He froze, his fingers twitching in his confusion while he could only stare down at her in shock.

"And I'm so sorry! I'm sorry for everything! I wanted to tell you - I always wanted you to know - but I couldn't, and you deserve so much better than a hero who can't give you the time you deserve!"

A cold realization washed over him in form of a shudder. Those words could've been interpreted in so many ways, but he was the only one who registered their real meaning: that Marinette was Ladybug, her "ditching" had been her needing to fight akuma, her keeping secrets had been out of a desire to protect him, and he—

...He had only caused her more problems by getting akumatized, being no better than all those that had interrupted their dates. She loved him, and he gave into Shadow Moth to go against her.

Ladybug continued rambling, oblivious to his internal crisis, "You're incredible, and I just love you so much. I knew you were special from the day we met, when you called me—"

Truth clamped his hand over her mouth, preventing her from spilling any more secrets. He could feel Shadow Moth's influence in his mind, demanding that he remove his hand, but Truth ignored it, just as he'd been ignoring so many of his commands. The energy from akumatization that once made him feel powerful now made him feel disgusted with himself, guilt swirling in his gut and making him regret everything.

He reached up with his other hand, grabbing at his necklace and tearing it off. Ladybug's brows rose at the crunching of his akumatized object, and the last things he saw were the akuma flying free and Ladybug's expression turning to something...

thoughtful.

—————

Marinette de-transformed in a nearby alleyway and headed down towards the Seine, having not yet processed all of her feelings from that day. She had a little time left, given that Luka had quietly asked to walk back home himself, but she’d gotten no closer to clearing her mind since leaving her house. She was still a jumbled mess of "what if"s and "but maybe"s, and ultimately knew that it was going to be a matter of essentially winging it and just saying everything that she had on her mind.

As she approached the Liberty to wait for Luka, she paused as she noticed another figure already standing there. After all, Jagged Stone wasn't exactly someone you could not notice.

Before she could debate on whether to approach him, Jagged seemed to sense her and glanced over to make eye contact. She stiffened, only able to wave awkwardly and pretend like she didn't know why he'd be there.

"Hey, frockstar," Jagged greeted tiredly, his smile not quite reaching its usual lengths. "What are you doing here?"

"Um..." She walked over, standing next to him and staring in the direction where Luka was going to come from. "I need to talk to my boyfriend."

"Ah." It took a few seconds for the words to actually register with him, at which point Jagged turned to her, mouth agape as he grabbed her shoulders. "My son's your boyfriend?!"

She didn't quite have the energy to feign total surprise at the “son” comment, but she didn't have to. Jagged immediately pulled back without really looking at her, regaining his composure just as quickly as he'd lost it.

"You... wouldn't happen to be able to put in a good word for me, hm?" He grinned sheepishly, jabbing at Marinette with a hopeful elbow. "Haven't exactly figured out what I'm gonna say yet."

She was torn between being upset with him on Luka’s behalf and feigning sympathy because it was not only none of her business, but she was in a similar boat and felt like she had no right to judge.

She went with the latter, smiling weakly and jabbing him back. "That makes two of us." Then, she frowned as her nerves came back. "And... anyway, I don't know if he'll want to keep being my boyfriend after tonight."

For once, Jagged didn't pry or ask questions, the atmosphere probably felt even by him. They just stood there, waiting.

After a few minutes, Luka finally walked into view, staring at the ground and seeming defeated. Marinette felt ill at the sight, her fingers clutching at the fabric of her capris to find a sense of stability.

Should she approach him? Let Jagged go first? Or, maybe that would seem evasive, so—

She felt a pat on her shoulder, looking up at see Jagged urging her forward with his eyes. She wasn't sure if she should be grateful or consider him to be the evasive one, but Luka's akumatization was also mostly because of her and thus it only made sense for her to go first.

She ran the distance to get to him, Luka glancing up at the sound of her footsteps and stopping as she got to him. The usual light in his eyes wasn't there, and she had to force herself to even say a simple, "Um... hi."

"Hey." He hesitated, then rubbed the back of his head. "I'm really sorry, Marinette."

"Huh?"

"I got akumatized, and I was in your room when I woke up." His brows furrowed with uncharacteristic anxiety. "I didn't have to hear the song to know what the notes were. I must've gone after you."

Marinette blinked, having not even thought about him feeling guilty over the whole thing. She shook her head, reassuring, "No no! I mean—you told me to run! You didn't go after me, not really!"

She wasn't technically lying; he never sought her out to her knowledge, and even as Ladybug, she'd always had to chase him.

Luka sighed in relief, though his expression didn't change much. "I'm glad."

He met her gaze again. She yearned for the way he used to look at her like he wanted to get lost in her forever, but his eyes soon darted elsewhere as he noticed Jagged Stone standing not too far away.

Marinette tried not to get discouraged, stepping back into his vision and waving her hands to try and divert his attention. "Ah—don't worry about that! Look—" She paused, needing a moment to breathe, then lowered her hands and shifted to seriousness. "Can we talk? And walk? It's... really important."

She couldn't imagine the conclusions he must've been coming to in his head, partly because he didn't voice any of them. His eyes merely searched hers, seeking nothing in particular.

"Sure, Marinette," he agreed.

She managed a smile, happy that she made it this far at least. She reached out to take his hand, but stopped herself at the last second and simply walked past him, Luka taking one look back at Jagged before following after her.

The walk was tense and quiet, the only sounds coming from the evening ambiance and their footsteps. The uncertainty of it all gave her anxiety, but she'd been sure of that uncertainty since she first decided to talk to him about this.

Because, whatever the future of their relationship was, it would be in his hands.

—————

As they arrived at her intended destination, Marinette heard Luka briefly stop behind her, perhaps processing where she just took them. It was the Canal Saint-Martin, also known as the place where they'd first agreed to date, and now it was potentially the place where they'd break up as well. Marinette vaguely pondered if that would be for the best, like the memories would just cancel each other out and Luka could forget about it altogether if he wanted to.

Nevertheless, she walked over, glancing at the bridge for reference and sitting in roughly the same place she’d been all that time ago. She then tossed Luka a hopeful look, and he walked over to sit next to her.

Steeling herself up, Marinette took a breath, inhaling until she couldn't take in any more oxygen and then exhaling for just as long. At least a little more emotionally prepared than she was before, she finally spoke up.

"I...I'm sorry, Luka. I'm sorry that I got you akumatized—" She saw that he was about to interject and cut him off. "—and I know you don't blame me, but it doesn't matter—I mean—it does matter, but I'm still sorry anyway, okay? You had a right to be hurt and maybe if I'd explained myself better, then things would’ve been different."

He still seemed to want to argue, but was holding himself back so she could continue, which she appreciated.

"It's not that I didn't trust you. If anything, I—I trust you more than anyone else. You've never betrayed me and I know you'd never tell anyone if I told you my secret. You understand me even when I'm being the disaster that everyone laughs at - everyone but you - and..."

She sighed, pulling out her phone and navigating to her text conversation with him. Mentally wincing, she tapped on the photo of her Adrien wall that Ziggy had sent, then presented it to him. He leaned in to make sure of what it was, then looked back at her, clearly not understanding where she was going but knowing it wasn't her being spiteful or rubbing it in.

She said as much, "You don't assume anything, like when you got sent this dumb picture. I know it was obvious that it was an accident, but you didn’t have to go with it and you did. I wouldn't have blamed you if you got mad, but you didn't. Whenever I'm stammering and being an idiot because I'm scared or nervous, you don't judge me for it or think that whatever comes out is what I actually mean. That's so important to me, Luka, you have no idea."

She settled the phone between them and kept the picture on-screen. Her gaze flickered down to it, silently encouraging him to look at it too, then glanced back up at him.

"How much do you know about fashion?"

He tilted his head, thrown off by the sudden question, but answered anyway, "Only what my sister's ever talked about."

"Do you know why fashion trends die so quickly?" When he shook his head, she explained, "Part of it is the over-exposure. When people hear about what's in at the time, suddenly everyone starts wearing whatever it is, so everywhere you look, you see it, and then people get tired of it."

There was a flicker of understanding in his eyes, Luka looking back-and-forth between her and the phone like he was piecing a puzzle together.

She confirmed it for him, "That's why I have so many. I don't feel that way about him anymore - I don't think I ever did - but I just don't know how to act around him. I hate how the whole idolizing thing took over my life and I already tried everything else, so I figured this might work." She groaned. "And of course it blew up on me and you got sent that without any context. Of course."

He gave a look of concern at the exasperation in her tone, but she tried to ignore it, not wanting his sympathy.

"My point is..." She gestured vaguely at the phone. "I stammer about him, but it's not because I'm in love with him, it's because I've never really been his friend and I don't know how to do it. I'm not dedicated to him and I'm getting better at not doing the stuff I used to."

His eyes flickered again and she wondered if he was thinking about that day on the Liberty where she was late to Kitty Section playing, where she ignored Adrien entirely. Just for emphasis, she tapped her phone and deleted the picture, adding on, "I'm only dedicated to you, Luka. I—"

She shifted in place, hitting the wall behind her feet a few times with her heels to ease off the anxiousness. It was so much easier when she’d been Ladybug, though granted that she was under the influence of Truth's spell at the time. She and Luka were dating, yet she was sure he'd ask her to end it, making putting herself out there all the scarier.

"I..." She met his gaze. "I love you." He gaped at the confession and she continued on, "I love you like I haven't loved anyone else before; definitely not Adrien. It's the kind of love that actually makes me happy, and comfortable, and my life is better with you in it."

She bit her bottom lip, hands curling into fists at the tight feeling in her chest. She turned, placing one hand on the ground as she began to push herself up, her other hand landing on Luka's shoulder to wordlessly insist that he didn't have to stand with her, so his gaze merely followed her as she moved.

"But that's the thing." She took a few steps away, back turned to him as she stared up at the sky. Her stomach twisted itself in knots at the words in her throat, but she nonetheless admitted, "I don't think it's mutual."

Luka's voice took on a sharp, offended tone. "Marinette—"

She spun to face him, cutting him off, "—and I know that you're going to say something sweet and heartfelt about how everyone has a place in your life and then something about how bad notes can still make good songs, but... Luka, you don't understand."

She turned away from him again, this time pacing as she counted off events. "Bullies and liars target me, and sometimes that means going after people I care about. I'm clumsy and a stuttering mess and you wouldn't believe the mistakes I made that I couldn't have even seen coming. It seems like I draw bad luck wherever I go; I mean, your mother is one of the most chaotic people I can think of, so you'd think she'd get akumatized a bunch, but it was only the day I showed up that she did. Even the other boys who only loved me for a little bit either got akumatized over it or became an anxious mess until they found out who they actually liked, and that last one would've at least been really useful to think about if I'd just made the connection back then, but I didn't!" She paused, then met his eyes with a pained expression. "And then there's you."

"What do you mean?"

She stopped in place, not knowing whether to be touched or not by the fact that he either hadn't noticed or was pretending not to. Throwing her arms out, she explained, "Things go bad whenever we hang out! I already mentioned your mom, but then there was the ice rink; even without me getting distracted when all you were trying to do was make me feel better, there was an akuma and you probably got frozen solid by him. When we were hanging out on the Liberty, Adrien just happened to show up on that day with Kagami to turn me into a mess, and then Desperada came to make everything worse."

Marinette couldn't remember when she'd started thinking about such things or feeling guilty for everything that ever happened. There was just a point where it felt like she was always apologizing for something, no matter how small it was, and stuff being her fault became par for the course by then.

"Then, both times you got akumatized, it was because of me—and I know you don't blame me, but I'm always involved! You were ready to leave the TV station, but because I tried to put up a fight, Bob Roth threatened me and that was your last straw. Today was the same thing; you were already upset about what happened with your dad and then it was me who sent you over the edge!" She shut her eyes tight, the memories painful to relive. "You're always putting up with me, Luka. You put up with me crying all over you and even dropped your guitar for it, and then you had to protect me from Miracle Queen's mind control! I'm supposed to protect you!"

He recoiled at the volume of her voice, then furrowed his brows, his eyes darting back and forth as he seemed to process something particular about what she said.

"I'm supposed to make you happy, and I can't. Out of all the people in Paris who should be able to keep you from getting akumatized, it should be me, and all I've done is hurt you. You're the calmest person I've ever known and then I came along and gave you feelings you didn't ask for. Sometimes—" She shook, choking briefly on the words. "Sometimes I wonder if it would've been better for you if you never met me."

Luka's gaze sharpened. He didn't reply, but turned fully to her, pushing himself up as if to approach.

However, she stepped back, his look then flashing to hurt. She took a breath, expression determined as she said with her whole chest, "I'm Ladybug, Luka."

He froze, his body going stiff and his eyes blinking rapidly at either the reveal itself or the way she’d so firmly said it.

"I'm Ladybug," she repeated quietly, this time with an ache in her voice, "and I'm telling you not because I trust you—I mean, I do trust you—but I also believe in you; that you wouldn't sell me out to Shadow Moth even with all the mind control in the world. You've always had my back and supported me even when I didn't deserve it, and I want you to know. It's dangerous and I don't know what'll happen and I'm scared but I want you to know it." She put a hand to her chest. "I'm the one who has to save Paris whenever something happens, and that's why I always had to ditch you. I'm the one who messed up and lost you your identity as Viperion. I'm the new guardian of the miraculouses, and the kwami don't even listen to me; they invaded my privacy and it was one of them that took and sent you that picture."

She realized that her vision was staring to blur and looked skywards, trying to fight back tears.

"I-I'm not a normal girl. I can't be a normal girlfriend, or give you everything you'd want out of a normal relationship. It's my fault that you got akumatized because I just—I wanted you. I wanted to be in a relationship and go on dates with you, but Ladybug isn't supposed to want things. She's supposed to be selfless and only worry about everyone else, but... you made me happy, and I wanted more of that. You were the first person I really felt like I could be myself around without being scolded or lied to and I thought it would be okay..."

She noticed him moving and quickly turned her back to him, at least able to let the tears fall now without him seeing them.

"I'm sorry I dragged you into this. I always think I can handle things but then it goes wrong and I end up hurting people. If I'd just gone home the day of the music festival instead of complaining about Adrien not being around, then none of this would've happened." She sighed in frustration, wiping her eyes clean of tears, and she was so focused on forcing her words out that she didn't hear the footsteps coming from behind her. "I-it's okay if you want to break up, Luka. It wasn't fair that I kept you in the dark, and I understand if you're mad, or you want to date other people, o-or if you don't love me anymore—"

Her voice cut off with a gasp as a pair of arms wrapped around her midsection, pulling her against a familiar, warm chest that had an unfamiliarly pounding heartbeat. She tried to look up at him, but his hair was shadowing out his eyes and left only his trembling lips visible. In fact, his whole body was shaking, as if it were winter and no amount of layers could keep him warm.

"L-luka?" she called, confused.

"Stop," he begged quietly, the hug tightening briefly to give her a squeeze. "Please."

"But..." She trailed off, acknowledging the request. She'd never heard his voice just break like that.

"You've already sung your part of our duet, Marinette. Now it's my turn." He paused, taking an unsteady breath before continuing, "I'm glad you told me your secret. I know you're worried about me being in danger, but it makes me happy that you can rely on me now. Music boxes aren't meant to stay shut, and you deserve someone who you can open up to, even if I hate that you have to mute yourself in the first place to keep everyone safe."

She opened her mouth, wanting to say that it was okay and it was just her job, but kept quiet to respect his earlier request.

"My life isn't worse because I met you," he murmured, an unspoken plea in his tone that told her to never think that way again. "I felt things with you that I never have before. My song started out as a flatline, then we met and you made it move. Music isn't exciting if it doesn't change but you did that for me. What you might see as bad notes is my passion for you, and I won't apologize for it or make you apologize for messing up just like every person does. I'd never wanted someone before you, and even if you never wanted to date me, I'm grateful that I got to know you; to fall for you."

Marinette blinked in an attempt to stop oncoming tears, Luka pulling her closer for comfort when she whimpered.

"All that mattered to me is when we were together, just the two of us. That's when your melody plays the clearest and when I get to see you. Those two weeks when we were preparing our music video were some of the best two weeks of my life because I got to see you in your element. I've accepted every break in the tempo because I've heard you, I've heard the Marinette you've wanted to be, and I want to be there for every beat of it." Then, he exhaled, adding with a somber tone, "I can't imagine how much pressure you must be under, or how awful things are and how impossible it must be to sing when you can't even take a breath without something going wrong. I just... I want to help you be happy. I don't care what you, your kwami, or anyone else says; you're allowed to be happy, Marinette, and I'd drop a thousand of my guitars if it meant that you get to play happy notes one more time."

She let out a sob, blushing pink as her hands unconsciously raised to rest on the ones around her waist, Luka sighing in content and nestling further against her.

"So I don't want to break up with you, Marinette. Not at all. I just want to find ways to make it easier on you - on both of us - and if that means finding ways of planning our dates around akuma attacks, or not planning at all and going wherever the rhythm leads, then that's what we'll do."

She tried to keep quiet, but couldn't help voicing, "W-what if... what if it doesn't work? What if I have to bail on you every now and then? People will think—"

"I was never worried about that," he retorted immediately. "I'm a Couffaine. My clothes are ripped, I carry my guitar in the basket on my bike, and I live on a boat. I stopped caring about what people thought a long time ago."

He was unbelievable. Marinette didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so she did both. He just held her there, his heart still beating against her back but now serving as something to calm her.

"The only opinions that matter in our duet are yours and mine," he said. His hold loosened, though hesitating like it was physically painful to release her. He let her go nonetheless and held his hands out in front of her, palms facing the sky. "So what about you, Marinette?"

She stared at his hands, then slowly raised her own to hover over them. She breathed up, then slid her fingers across his palms until their calloused fingertips met, neither making any move to pull away.

"I...I want to make it work," she whispered, leaning back against him. "I want to be with you, Luka. I'm at my best when I'm with you. I just..."

She stopped, knowing that he would have an argument for anything she said. If she apologized for the failed dates that she can never fix, he'd argue that it'd be worse to leave things off a sour note, and that not every good song starts out good. If she tried to suggest other people for him to date or imply that it'd be easier with someone else, he'd say that his guitar plays only for her and he wouldn't change that even if he could.

"...I'm sorry," she said, smiling her first genuine smile of the night. "I won't doubt myself anymore."

Even though she couldn't see his face, she knew he was smiling too. "Do you feel better?"

"Yeah. Do—do you?"

"Yeah," he replied, voice thick with emotion.

Wanting to see his face, she slowly dropped their hands and turned to face him, silently hoping that she didn't look awful from her earlier tears. However, to her surprise, she noticed that Luka's eyes were watery despite his smile, just like her. Realizing something, she raised a hand to her shoulder, where his face had been hovering over ever since he'd hugged her from behind.

It was wet.

"Oh, Luka..."

She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him against her. He returned the gesture, squeezing her lovingly and giving her back a few rubs that she responded to with a happy hum. They held the position, the warmth of the hug completely negating the slight chill of the night air.

Even when they pulled away, it wasn't far nor for long. Marinette wasn't sure which of them initiated it, but one moment they were staring at each other and the next they were kissing. It had been long overdue and she idly thought that it was better than she would've imagined their kiss at the cinema to be.

She breathed in his scent, her fingers blindly reaching up to slide into his hair. She almost felt like crying again, though this time in relief that everything had actually worked out for once and they were kissing without interruption. Even though Luka was more subtle in showing his emotions, she could tell that he felt the same from the way his hand on her back shook, practically vibrating with happiness.

The kiss eventually broke with a soft click, though she kept her hands on him for the sake of stability. They were both breathing a little hard from the emotional toll of the conversation yet not necessarily in a bad way.

And the love in his eyes - the life that she missed so much - was back. She honestly thought she wouldn’t have seen it again and she was tempted to just keep kissing him in relief, part of her aware that he definitely wouldn’t have minded it.

It took her a few tries to get the words out, hesitant to break up their wordless exchanges of love. She knew what revelation was waiting for Luka back at his houseboat - maybe he'd already guessed it - and she wanted to be there for him, so she asked carefully, "Do you... want me to come back to the Liberty with you?"

Eyes half-lidded, he gave her a soft smile and gently squeezed her hand. "Yeah. Do you want to sleep over?"

She nodded. "Mm, I'd like that."

Holding hands, they began making their way back to the Liberty, the ambiance of the night finally coming through to soothe them. Marinette glanced down at their joined hands, then at the wide smile on Luka's face, the latter clearly caused by the former.

She looked ahead at where they were walking, pretending that she hadn't just been admiring him. "We could always go out for breakfast together. That might work out."

"That sounds amazing." Luka feigned a look of thoughtfulness. "Maybe Shadow Moth doesn't like mornings?"

Marinette squeaked mid-giggle. "You'd think that'd be the case from the name, huh?"

He chuckled, covering his mouth with his free hand, and the conversation remained light from there. Any bad feelings from the day had evaporated, leaving only smiles and hope for the future in its place.

Everything was going to be okay. For once, Marinette could truly believe that.

#type: story #story: oneshot #Flower Arrangement Shipping #episode: Truth #other: ml spoilers #((Bold of you guys to assume that I only had one of these in me.))#Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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hotch-stufff · 3 years ago

Note

i was thinking abt an au based on olvias rodrigo’s song “traitor”, where the reader (y/n) starts dating hotch two weeks after breaking up with gibbs, and a happy ending with ur most favorite guy out of them two??

Traitor

Gifs by hotchology and specialagentastra

Pairing: Hotch x Reader, Gibbs x Reader

Warnings!: Angst, lots of it, break ups, arguing, mentions of breakup, more angst, kissing, crying, some cursing, but a mostly fluffy ending

Description: you move on quick after breaking up with Gibbs. He's upset, but you're happy with the man your with. What will you do? Who do you choose?

Author's Note: asking me to end this with my favorite guy was like impossible. It was a super hard decision. and it was very close. If anyone would like an alternate ending for the other guy, lmk. I would be happy to write it. Enjoy reading, i loved writing this one!!

------------

You were broken hearted. But you had been for a long time. The breakup didn't surprise you. It had been coming for a while. You knew it was.

He was distant and cold towards you. He didn't give you soft kisses when he got home. He didn't hug you from behind while you did the dishes. He didn't tell you he loved you before falling asleep.

It had all stopped months ago.

You two really had been in love in the beginning. You had loved Jethro with all of your heart. He was the man of your dreams. He was the best man you had ever been with. The man of your dreams.

The relationship had started with passionate kisses and romantic gestures and spending time together. But it had slowly changed to, quick pecks and bits of time here and there together. And then the kisses had stopped and any time spent together was spent fighting.

It was hard. Really hard to see this once loving relationship turn into something that you dreaded. It was so hard to dread the moment the man you once loved would walk through the door.

You knew it was coming to an end. He began spending nights at the office. He didn't even want to come home to you.

He didn’t even want to see you. He wouldn’t even go into his own house, because you were there.

And that hurt. A lot.

It hurt to know he didn't want to be near you.

You knew it was coming to an end.

Over the months that the relationship was dwindling down, you had ended up befriending one of your students' fathers. Aaron Hotchner. You were a teacher at the elementary school in your county.

He had found you crying in between parent teacher conferences and had asked what was wrong. He had gone through a divorce and knew how hard it was to let go through what you were going through.

You two had ended up talking that night for what had felt like hours. It was just natural conversation.

But the talks became weekly. You two would meet up, if he wasn’t on a case, and would just talk about everything. He quickly became one of your closest friends.

Now of course, Gibbs had found out about these meetings and had turned it into a fight. He didn’t like the idea of you spending so much time with another man. But then again, he wasn’t even home enough to spend any time with you.

“So, cheating on me now?” He had asked one night after actually coming home for once.

“Excuse me?” You had asked sharply.

“You heard me. That man, Aaron Hotchner. I saw you two at the bar the other night.” You rolled your eyes. Of course he was doing this. He would find any reason to start a fight.

“He’s a friend and the father of one of my students. Just a friend, Jethro.” You really didn't want to fight. But he was pushing for one. For whatever reason you didn’t know.

“Sure.” He scoffed, igniting a fire in you. You two had gone back and forth all night. Him accusing you over and over of cheating. And you insisting over and over that Aaron was just a friend. The fight had lasted for a couple of days before he finally decided to stop sleeping on the couch and actually came to bed. But, of course, he was gone before you woke up.

It really was coming to an end. You knew it had to be you who had to end it. He would never do it. He didn’t have the strength.

You knew you had to do it the moment you realized you started having feelings for Aaron. You had felt terrible, but you would never cheat on Jethro. You were most definitely not breaking things off because you wanted to be with Aaron. You were doing it because being with Gibbs was killing you.

It was hard to come to terms with, but you knew you needed to break things off with Gibbs. It was only tearing you both down. And you almost felt like you were leading Aaron on. Even if he himself admitted you two were only friends.

The day after you discovered these feelings you broke it off. And it was so much harder than you had ever expected.

* * *

You waited until he got home. Waiting until he had had a glass of bourbon before bringing it up.

“Gibbs, we need to talk.” You had called him by his last name. His first would be too personal right now. It would hurt too much.

“What?” Was his only response. You took a deep breath before continuing. Here goes nothing.

“I think… I think we should break up.” His eyes shot up to yours. His eyes wide as he wiped his hand down his face.

“Why?” He knew why. You knew why. Everyone knew why. He just didn’t know what else to say.

“Because Gibbs, we make each other miserable. We’re always fighting or arguing. You don’t even come home some nights, just to avoid the fighting. I can’t bear it anymore. We don’t make eachother happy. We may have once loved each other, but we don’t anymore.” He sighed as he felt tears gather in his eyes. He was angry and upset and pissed and just, just sad. There had to be a bigger reason behind you doing this right?

“Bullshit. You just want to call it off so you can go runnin to Hotchner!” He yelled. You scoffed.

“This isn’t about him!” You yelled right back.

“You know what? Go. I don’t care. Never loved you anyways.” Now that stung. “You were just a side piece. Something to distract me from work.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes to try and brush away the tears.

“Sure Gibbs, whatever you need to tell yourself. I’ll be back for the rest of my things tomorrow.” You ran out of yo- his house, slamming the door shut behind you.

And then you let the tears fall. It was over. All of it was over.

* * *

You spent the night on Aaron’s couch. Sure it probably wasn’t the best idea, but he had quickly become one of your best friends, and you needed somewhere to stay. When you had told him you were breaking things off, he had almost looked happy. Happy for you, or just happy because he liked you? You couldn’t tell. But you weren’t ready to find out. You needed time. To heal from the break up.

That was what you kept telling yourself at least. It made it easier to keep your distance from Hotch. You needed to wait. You couldn’t just move on like that. It wouldn't be right. Even if you didn’t care how Gibbs felt anymore, you still wouldn't do that to him.

But god, Aaron was making that next to impossible. He was kind and caring. He made sure you were okay and didn’t pressure you into anything. He was there. He had been for months. He picked you up throughout your relationship and even after it had ended. He was there.

You told yourself that you couldn't do anything, not yet.

But that didn’t last. About 2 weeks after the break up, you were sitting on Aaron’s couch, curled into his side. He had looked down at you and you just hadn’t been able to look away. You had held eye contact until his lips had slammed against yours in a passionate, heated kiss.

You got lost in that kiss. That kiss you had been waiting for. The kiss he had been waiting for. But then you thought about Gibbs. How he had hurt you. How this would hurt him.

You broke away quickly.

“Wait, wait. Aaron, wait.” He had stopped immediately after hearing your words. Pulling away, a look of disappointment and guilt flashed across his face.

“God Y/n, I'm so sorry. You're hurting right now and I just took advantage of that.” This man couldn’t be more perfect if he tried.

“Aaron, I was just going to say that if you want this, then we need to take it slow. I don't know how ready I am to let someone in again. But me and Gibbs, we ended a long time before the break up. I’m not hurting. I mean I am, but I have been hurting for months, and I just want it to go away. It goes away when I’m with you.” He leaned his forehead against yours.

“We can take this as slow as you need to. But I’m here, and I’m here to stay.” You let out a watery laugh and leaned in to kiss him softly.

“Thank you Aaron.” And you fell asleep right there that night, in his arms. Finally feeling happy again.

* * *

Gibbs never expected to see you again after the break up. There was no reason the two of you would run into each other. You were a teacher, him an NCIS agent. No crossing over.

That is until he had to collaborate on a case with the BAU. And Gibbs was sorely disappointed when he met the Unit Chief. They both knew who the other was. The only thing was that Gibbs didn’t know you and Hotch were together.

That is until you surprised Aaron with lunch.

You had walked through the doors of the BAU, waving hi to the team, not seeing Dinozzo or Ziva sitting close by, watching you walk through the bullpen. They knew who you were. They just didn’t know why you were here.

You walked up the stairs to Hotch’s office and knocked twice before walking in.

“Aaron honey, I brought lun-” You cut yourself off with a quiet gasp as you spotted Jethro Gibbs standing next to Aaron.

“Jethro?” You asked. His eyes shot to you, instantly putting together why you were there. He scoffed.

“Wow Y/n.” He shook his head, giving you a disappointed look. It had only been about 3 months since the break up. Awkward silence filled the room. No one knew what to say or what to do. But then Gibbs spoke up.

“How long after you left did the two of you get together?” You bowed your head. Waiting a couple of seconds before answering.

“Two weeks.” You whispered out. He scoffed again. You spared a glance up to Aaron, but he was already staring at you with a careful gaze. Making sure you were okay.

“I'm going to give you two a minute.” And he walked out, squeezing your hand as he passed you. Once he was gone you spoke up again.

“It’s not what you think, Jethro.”

“You sure, because I’m thinking that you cheated!” He yelled, raising his voice slightly.

“I would never cheat on you! You know me better than that!” You retorted.

“Well, you moved on pretty damn fast then. You may not have cheated, but you're still a traitor!” He looked so angry. You didn’t know what to do.

“Jethro, it hadn’t just been 2 weeks since we had broken up. We had been over for so much longer. We were miserable. But Aaron was there for it all. He became my friend. My best friend. And everytime I ended up crying because of one of our fights, or crying because you didn't come home, he was there to cheer me up. He helped me through the ending of one of the most important relationships I had ever been in.” You paused, trying to catch your breath. “Yes, I moved on. I started dating him 2 weeks after we broke up. You can hate me all you want. Call me a traitor. Fine. But you gave up on us a long time ago, and excuse me for finally finding someone who actually fought to have a relationship with me.’ He took your words in carefully. He thought through each and every thing you had said. The worst part was that he knew you were right.

About everything. He had given up. He was the one who had stayed away, and picked fights, and just pushed you away. He had already lost you and you had moved on. But here he was standing in your way.

“I’m sorry Y/n.” You were shocked to hear the words leave his mouth. He didn’t say sorry. It was even one of his rules.

“I will always love you Jethro. Always. But I’ve moved on. So should you. Find someone who makes you happy.” You gave him a sad smile before he brought you in for a hug. It lasted for a while, until you pulled away. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, squeezing your hand, before walking out the door. It was really over. You felt the tears drip down your face.

Aaron was quick to run back into his office, bringing you in his arms.

“Shh, shh. I’ve got you Y/n. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” You cried for a bit. Just to let it out. You were letting go of him. For good now.

You had Aaron and Jack and Aaron’s team. And that would be enough for you. Because Aaron loved you in a way that Jethro hadn’t.

Aaron held you until you calmed down, pressing a kiss to your lips as he wiped away your tears.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly. For once you could answer honestly.

“Yes. I am. All because of you.” You smiled as you leaned in and kissed him again.

You would always love Leroy Jethro Gibbs. But you knew in your heart that you were meant to be with the man in front of you.

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Not entirely sure how I feel about this one, feedback would be greatly appreciated, good or bad!!

Thanks for reading! Requests are still open, so ask away! If you would like an idea of what to request, here is my prompt list, and if you would like to read more of my work, here is my masterlist.

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vicious-vixxxen · 4 years ago

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Hi, first of all ur work is amazing and awesome, especially the Kiri fics they make me feel so warm inside :)) ANYWAYS I have a drabble idea: Katsuki with a flirty male reader from 1-B that likes to tease him and make him flustered and fired up as much as possible (kinda like Monoma but not as aggressive) and finally Katsuki decides that it’s reader’s turn to get all flustered and blushing and all that hehe :)

AH I absolutely LOVE this idea! Sorry it took me so long to get to it babes, but I hope you enjoy it :3 <3 Bakugou Katsuki X Flirty Male!Reader

“You think /you’re/ tired? I heard class A had to go through ten times the beasts we did yesterday, /and/ they didn’t get to camp until five.” TetsuTetsu huffed, rolling his eyes as he continued to rub at his sore biceps- falling behind as the class walked to their first official day of training. “They’re probably still struggling to work as an actual unit, how disappointing,” Monoma drawled, flinching as Kendo raised a hand at him in warning- her gaze cutting back to you with an apologetic smile, but you shrugged her off. “I’m just saying, if they were half as good as everyone assumes they are, then we wouldn’t have had to make dinner for everyone /alone/ yesterday. A bunch of unimpressive slackers, the fame is definitely getting to them.” “Oh give it a rest, Monoma! I swear if I have to keep listening to your incessant whining i’m going to roundhouse you so hard you slip into an alternate dimension,” You teased, though the sharpness of your tone, and the look you fixed the other boy with managed to reduce him to nothing more than some bitter grumbling, as you jogged ahead to follow directly behind Vlad-Sensei.

“Young Y/N is right! No use in comparing yourself to a separately tiered class, what you all should be doing is preparing yourselves for a day full of grueling training!” Vlad called out to the class behind him, as they came to their final stop. Looking out across the vast fields of the camp, where class 1A was already deep in training. All of them spread out to various areas of the site, some farther out than others, you assumed due to the volatile nature of their quirks. Some out of site all together, given the specificity needed to train their quirks. “The Wild Wild Pussycats have strict regimens for you all to follow, and I as well have critiques for you all regarding your fighting style, and quirk application. Check in with them across the field first, and regroup back to me so we can begin!” “Yes Sensei!” You all chanted back, before hurrying off across the field to do as you were told. Though once you caught sight of- and really, it was more his blood curdling death screams that you noticed first, music to your ears honestly- unruly blonde spikes off in the distance, you reasoned you had at least a few minutes to spare. Giving your classmates time to get their schedules and regimes before you could swoop in for yours last minute. The heat from Bakugou’s blasts was intense- your hair blowing back each time the other boy extended his palms to the sky, screamed, and released an explosion. The air felt thick, the scent of sweaty flesh, and deep, rich caramel wafting against your face, heady, and thick, with each blast. It was intoxicating. The closer you got, the more your cheeks flushed- though it had nothing to do with the heat anymore. Up close, or as close as you could get without being blown back entirely, that is- the more handsome Bakugou became. Pinched, angry expression and all. His front fringe of hair hanging low on his forehead, dripping sweat down onto his cheeks, and then onto the exposed upper half of his chest, bared due to his low rising tank top. When was Bakugou not absolutely breathtaking, you wondered idly, as you reached into your backpack for a bottle of water, and whistled loudly between blasts to catch the blonde's attention. Though the glare he fixed you with as your eyes met almost, almost deterred you from closing the distance between you both, it didn’t quite reach the innermost parts of your brain, meant for rational thought. “What the hell do you want!? Can’t you see i’m busy? Take your ass back to your class, extra!” Bakugou shouted, gaze falling to the bottle of water in your hand, before he focused back in on his task, baring his teeth in pain as the boiling water engulfed his hands. But you were too close now, it was too risky, and before you could think to back away on your own, Bakugou was crowding up against you. Spinning around on his heels and blasting in the opposite direction, back to you now. Shoving you backwards so hard with his own body you fell to the ground. Hissing as you landed on a particularly sharp rock. “See what you did?! I could’ve accidentally taken someone else out because of you! Fucking...gimme that,” Bakugou growled, shaking his hands of the smoke from his blast, before bending down to snatch the chilled bottle of water from your hand with one of his- his other reaching down to take hold of the front of your shirt, and tug you back up to stand next to him. “Always in my way!” Bakugou hissed, before throwing his head back and chugging down the entire bottle in a matter of seconds. Wiping at his mouth roughly, he turned to you slightly, noting the mischievous smile on your face, and the dirt on your shorts. “Tch...what?” He asked, knowing he was walking himself right into a trap. “Just admiring the view,” You sing-songed, skirting around his sudden extended fist easily, and dancing around the boy to get a good look at his training clothes. “It’s not everyday I get to see UA’s own Bakugou Katsuki in the midst of an intense training session. All sweaty, and bulking- muscles just….grr,” You laughed, holding your hands up in front of your face as you growled and made pawing motions at the other boy- bursting into a fit of laughter ass he reeled back, blush high on his cheeks, fingers twitching with the urge to blas your fucking face off. “You’re an insufferable piece of!-” “What I can’t seem to wrap my head around, is how you have such a big chest, such defined shoulders, and such a teeny, tiny waist,” You sighed, cutting Bakugou off with your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the side curiously as you scanned him up and down. “Your tits are bigger than most of the girls in your class, ya know,” You added, as if an afterthought, waving a hand passively at the thought, though you couldn’t help but grin as Bakugou charged you- dragging you up by the front of your shirt again, and pinning you to the barrel of boiling water. One hand holding your head down near the bubbling surface, and one right next to your ear, sparking with unlit nitroglycerin. “I. Don’t. Have. Tits. You. Shitty. Extra.” Each word was laced with venom, husky and full of rage right next to your ear, and god. Was it fucked up you were kind of turned on? Probably. About as fucked up as it was to be genuinely attracted to Bakugou in the first place, you supposed. Oh well. Not much to be done about it now. “Say that to the mounds pressing up against my back right now, babe,” You teased, turning your head to face Bakugou, your noses barely brushing as you leaned in as best you could, given the hand in your hair- mouth curling into a knowing smirk as Bakugou’s face twisted back and forth- confusion, rage, annoyance, misunderstanding...want. “I’m sure your teacher would be thrilled to see you over here keeping one of my students from his training, instead of focusing on your own abilities,” Someone sighed from your right, and both you and Bakugou’s head whipped up to see Aizawa leaning against a tree, staring at the both of you with the most bored expression you could imagine someone having. “Tried to get the loser away from me, but he’s as persistent as the rest of his annoying class,” Bakugou huffed, letting you go, but not before pushing you in the direction of his teacher roughly- crackling his knuckles out in front of himself, and shaking his hands out. Prepared to continue his training. Though thoughts of your stupid face, so close to his- scent of your shampoo, and minty breath still searing his nose made him a trillion times more annoyed then he’d already been. The color of your eyes stuck with him the most though. So clear. So shiny. Full of authority, of mirth, and something so...gut wrenchingly /cute/, he couldn’t stand it. “Sorry, EraserHead. Didn’t mean to disturb your student. Was just being friendly is all,” You assured the older Hero, hands up in surrender as you walked alongside side him, and back to regroup with your class- smiling smugly to yourself when you noticed the barest hint of a smirk on Eraserheads face, just before he turned away and skulked off to whatever dark, cozy corner he had been observing his students from.

Training felt like it had lasted forever, and then some. The following days were no easier. Your bodies were pushed to their limits, and then thrown off the metaphorical cliff afterwards. Every day, class A and B were sore, tired, irritable. But even then, once lunch, and dinner came around, it offered you all a chance to get to know one another more intimately. You talked, and mingled with class 1A- flirting with Todoroki for fun, and picking Midoriya’s brain about his hero notebook- unaware of the red eyes following your every move amongst the classmates. Your flirting with Bakugou was at an all time high- given you could usually spare a handful of minutes each day teasing the young man, whether it be with words during training, lingering touches, or brushes of hands, and legs during dinner, or with outright winks, and kisses blown to the blonde as you all departed to your cabins for the night. It infuriated Bakugou to no end. Your presence. The way he acted out against you...his mother would suggest he needed an attitude adjustment, and that he should allow the fun part of camp to take precedent over his ultimate number one hero goal. As if he’d ever. But still, her frustrated words of encouragement never ceased to ease up as the days went by, and you became bolder with your flirting. Bakugou felt on edge constantly, like someone was going to crack a whip at him at any moment. Say something about it, say something about /him/, but no one ever did. Probably because they were scared. His only saving grace, he supposed. Being intimidating. Though he didn’t intimidate /you/, which was the part he hated the most. ...He’d just have to switch up his tactics, then. His mother would be proud. God, he hated that. After a particularly grueling day of training, everyone was running on fumes, more or less, as they shuffled around the outdoor kitchen, prepping dinner lazily. Monoma picking stupid fights with whoever he came across first, as though he were too tired to even do that. You’d been chatting quietly to Mina and Jirou about some of your favorite albums, when a whistle from across the counters had all three of you lifting your heads. Curiosity piqued to the fullest extent, as your gaze landed on Bakugou- pointing at you with a hard expression, before gesturing to the spot next to him at the cutting board station. His eyes downcast again before you could even register what was going on, before hurrying to head over before whatever demon that had possessed Bakugou, decided to get the fuck out of such a toxic human host. Beaming, you came to stand at Bakugou’s side, arms brushing against each other as you glanced down at the finely minced veggies the boy was working on. “You rang?” Brows raised in question, you ducked your head to try and catch the boy’s eyes again- stopping dead in your tracks as he grabbed a hold of your wrist tightly, and slid a knife between your fingers. Tugging you impossibly closer to his side, and reaching an arm around you to grab a stray carrot. Boxing you into the bench, and maneuvering your fingers carefully as he began to force you to chop the carrot below. His front was flush with your back, and suddenly you couldn’t breath. Breath hitched in your throat, flush high on your cheeks, as Bakugou bent down, face right next to yours, as he forced you to chop, knife always skirting a little /too/ close to your fingertips, but fuck it all if you weren’t willing to lose them for this encounter to continue. “All this time and you haven’t even learned to chop properly. Make yourself more useful, you shitty extra,” He grunted, right into your ear. A sharp shock of arousal shooting down your spine as he spoke, looking away suddenly as Bakugou turned to try and meet your gaze. “Eh? What’s the problem, extra? Cat got your fucking tongue?’ He teased, harshly, though his grasp on your hands lessened, and fuck you were gonna pass out if you didn’t start breathing soon. “Oh,” He huffed suddenly, snickering under his breath, as he crowded you in up against the bench entirely, completely flush with your back, before his lips ghosted the shelf of your ear, and he whispered “-probably because of my big tits, huh? Tch.” And then he was gone. Gone from your back, gone from the shell of your ear, gone from giving you a religious fucking experience, and thankfully gone from nearly making you jizz your jeans in front of the entireety of class A and B. Your hands shook where they now held the knife solo, and you glanced over your shoulder- watching Bakugou stuff his hands in his pockets, arch his shoulders, and stalk off to the cabins. Though not before you also caught the sharp, devilish smirk that twisted up on his face. What a fucking DICK. But a dick who was handsome as fuck, and knew exactly what he was doing. “Alright, Bakugou, you wanna play, big boy?” You whispered to yourself, voice shaky as you continued chopping vegetables. “I’ll bite. Show you how it’s done...right after I pass out, Jesus fucking Chri-”

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jackredfieldwasmyjacob · 2 years ago

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BENIDORM FEST 2023 SONGS

Below I'll detail all 18 songs that'll compete to represent Spain in Eurovision 2023 next January at Benidorm. I'll also add some tidbits that they said in the presentation they did this morning, and they'll go in the order they used for said presentation as well cause it makes it easier for me.

Everything will be below the cut as I'll be linking the youtube videos to the songs (if there is one) and I don't want to take much unwanted space on your dashes. Here is the official spotify playlist btw, you'll be able to listen to all songs there if you prefer it.

I'll be completely impartial here, if you want more insight into my own reactions to each songs, you can search the tag 'benivivi23' in my blog <3

Finally, throughout these weeks I'll be posting the translated lyrics of the 18 songs here, in case you don't want to miss them I'll use that same tag 'benivivi23', to have everything organized (i'll also use the tags i'll use here tho so there shouldn't be any problems)

Anyways, let's start :)

AIRE BY SHARONNE

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Sharonne (1976, Sabadell) is a drag queen known for winning the second season of Drag Race España. It's her second time entering the preselection for Eurovision, as she participated in the 2001 preselection within the group Trans-X. Right now she's one of the protagonists of the national tour of the drag show Gran Hotel de las Reinas.

Aire [Air] was composed by herself, Iván Torrent, and Alejandro Barroso. The song talks about liberating oneself, about taking a deep breath and continuing on. In the presentation, she said that the song was composed with the Benidorm Fest in mind, and that she was inspired by all the people that had reached out to her in social media talking about how seeing her and other drag queens thriving had helped them; it's her way of thanking them.

2. ARCADIA BY MEGARA

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Megara (born in Madrid in 2015) is a self-proclaimed 'fuchsia rock' group with an aesthetic that combines dark undertones with cotton candy. They have a total of three albums and two other EPs.

Arcadia is a reference to the idea of Arcadia Felix, a Heaven on Earth. In the song, Megara makes Arcadia a virtual world where two girls fall in love and live their particular Arcadia. It was composed by Megara members Sara Jiménez Moral and Roberto La Lueta Ruiz, and their producer, Israel Dante Ramos. In the presentation, they talk about how their dream was getting into the Benidorm Fest so they've already achieved their dream, but they'll fight to go to Eurovision as well. They're also very honored to represent rock for the first time in Benidorm Fest.

3. DESDE QUE TÚ ESTÁS BY ALFRED GARCÍA

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Alfred García (1997, El Prat de Llobregat) was first known as a contestant in Operación Triunfo 2017, where he ended up fourth [imo his best performance there was Maldita Dulzura]. Afterwards, he was selected to go to Eurovision 2018 with Amaia, where they sung Tu Canción. Since then, he has released 2 albums.

Desde Que Tú Estás [Since You Are Here] is a song dedicated to a person that made him rediscover and feel again things he hadn't felt in a while. The lyrics were composed by him and the music is by Raúl Gómez. In the presentation, he says that it is one of the best songs he has ever composed, and that he was inspired by love as something revolutionary.

4. EAEA BY BLANCA PALOMA

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Blanca Paloma (1989, Elx) is the only returning artist to the Benidorm Fest, as she participated in the last edition with Secreto de Agua. Eaea is only her third single.

Eaea was composed by herself and José Pablo Polo, and it is a flamenco-sounding song made as a tribute to her roots and ancestors through lullabies, a sorrt of remembrance of where she came from to know where to go to. In the presentation, she said it is a tribute to her grandma, Carmen (the woman in the cover of the single).

5. FLAMENCO BY ARITZ AREN

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Aritz Grau Sueira (1992, València), his stage name being Aritz Aren, is mainly known as a dancer, as his leap to fame was the dancing TV show Fama ¡A Bailar!, where he ended up as the runner up. Since then he has gained a large following on Tik Tok, and has worked in Madrid and Shanghai. In this last place, he coreographed the productions of Fame and World of Dance. Finally, he has taught dance classes at one of the best studios in Tokyo, Dance Studio.

Flamenco was composed by Carlos Marco, Frida Amundsen, Kaci Brown, Sam Gray, and Tonino Speciale. It is a song that fuses urban and latin sounds with autochtonous Spanish elements. In the presentation, he says that for him the song means the unrestraining oneself and letting yourself just feel at the beginning of a relationship. He is very happy singing it and he feels it matches quite well with him. He is also already working in the staging, and he told the interviewer that there'll be dancing in it.

6. INVIERNOS EN MARTE BY JOSÉ OTERO

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José Otero (1990, Telde) became known after participating in The Voice México in 2019. Since then, he has published a number of singles and collaborations with artists like Karen Méndez.

Inviernos en Marte [Winters in Mars] is a power ballad composed by himself, Manu Chalud, Gabi Ore, Kenia Saiz, and Karen Méndez. It talks about impossible love and giving up once you realise you have lost someone you love. In the presentation he said it is a song composed to be sung live, and that the lyrics talk about vulnerability in oposition with lost. He was inspired by his father's death last year.

7. LA LOLA BY FAMOUS

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Famous Oberogo (Amsterdam, 1999, raised in Bormujos) was first known as the winner of Operación Triunfo 2018 [I think we can all agree his best performance was Uptown Funk], where he participated in the preselection process for Eurovision 2019 and manifested his love for Eurovision and his wish to go someday, he even got to sing with Cesár Sampson. Since then, he has been preparing his first album with a few singles already out, and is currently playing Rafiki in the Spanish production of The Lion King, in Madrid.

La Lola [The Lola] was composed by Adrián Ghiardo, Andrés Sebastián Ramírez and Jorge de la Cruz, and talks about that feminine side everyone has, dubbed Lola in this song. In the presentation he says that Lola is fierce and fun, and that with this song he wants to start up a party and wants people to have a fun time and enjoy it. He also said that there's gonna be dancing in the staging as well as interesting 'vocal stuff'.

8. MI FAMILIA BY FUSA NOCTA

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Miriam Nares Signes (1996, Gandia), best known as Fusa Nocta, rose to fame in 2019, when she was a viral contestant in the Spanish X Factor. She's been writing poetry since she was 15, and she only recently started doing music as well. She has participated in many festivals like Madcool, Puro Latino, or Arenal Sound.

Mi Familia [My Family] fuses different sounds to explore her own family, talking about both the prettiest and the darkest parts of it. She composed the song alongside Ignacio Moreno González and Carlos Padilla Linares. In the presentation she was overwhelmed as she didn't expect so many support after the song released, and revealed that the little girl who talks at the beginning and the end of the song is her baby cousin. She goes a bit more in depth about the song, saying it talks about the advice her grandmas have given her, and about how much family really means for her. She also wanted to include the crudest parts of family.

9. NOCHENTERA BY VICCO

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Victoria Ribo (1996, Barcelona), best known as Vicco, has been playing the piano since she was 9, and shortly after she started writing her own music. She started her first band, Carpanta, with her own sisters, and when she was 19 she opened for Alejandro Sanz. She has since released an album, a few singles, and has composed for a multitude of artists, like Mireya Bravo, Flori, María Escarmiento, or Edurne.

Nochentera [a portmanteau of both 'noche entera' (full night, in the context it's more like 'all night'), and 'noche ochentera' (80's night)] talks about that moment when you like a person and want to do anything to see them, and so you throw up a party to be able to bump into them and dance together. It is a hymn to happiness and good vibes, it was made to feel like a party itself. In the presentation she said that a lot of stuff will be going on in stage, and that it will be lot's of fun. She also said that there's a lot of good songs in the preselection, so it's gonna be complicated to win.

10. NO NOS MOVERÁN BY MELER

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Meler (formed in Madrid in 2020) is a band formed by Loren, Javi and Jonathan that started playing in the London underground and Madrid metro until the pandemic, when they were forced to look for alternate ways of doing music and created Meler. Now they have a couple singles out and have opened for Taburete.

No Nos Moverán [We Will Not Be Moved] is an energetic song made to dance, sing, and jump. It talks about that moment when you wish you could stop time to stay like that forever. It was composed by Jonathan Geraint Burt, Francisco Javier Pagalday González, Natalia Neva Martín, Oliver García Cerón, and José Héctor Portilla Rodríguez. In the presentation they said that they're working hard on the staging because it is very different to what they're used to do. They also said that the song was made with Eurovision and Europe in mind. Finally, they commented about how there's hints on how the staging will be in the music video.

(aparently you can only put ten videos per post so i'll link the rest of the videos in the titles of each song)

11. QUE ESCLATI TOT BY SIDERLAND

Siderland (formed in Barcelona in 2018) is a band formed by Uri Plana (voice and guitar), Albert Sort (bass), and Andreu Manyós (drums). They defined their sound as 'night pop', and since their debut they have played in multitude of venues in Barcelona.

Que Esclati Tot [Let Everything Explode, this might not be 100% accurate as I don't know Catalan] was composed by Siderland in collaboration with Roger Argemí. It has the typical sound of the band, and it tells the story of two lovers who react differently to a world that is collapsing; one accepts destiny and prepares themselves for whatever may happen, while the other refuses to do so and ends up alone. In the presentation they talked about how they tried to get into Benidorm Fest last year, and about how the staging is going to be explosive. This is the first song in Catalan in Benidorm Fest.

12. QUIERO ARDER BY AGONEY

Agoney Hernández (1995, Adeje) was first known as one of the contestants of Operación Triunfo 2017, ending up in 6th place [his best performance is undoubtably Eloise]. Since then he's released an album, and he's currently staring in the music contest Dúos Increíbles alongside legendary singer Ana Belén [they recently sang Eloise together!].

Quiero Arder [I Want to Burn] is an explosive song composed by Agoney himself where he gets to do complicated vocal work, as he's known for. In the presentation he threatened to burn Benidorm to the ground, and he said that he needed to made that song when he composed it, and that at first it wasn't gonna be the song he was going to present to the Benidorm Fest, but he got an impulse to do so and he went against the advice of the discography.

13. QUIERO Y DUELO BY KARMENTO

Carmen Toledo (Bogarra, Albacete), better known as Karmento, first started her musical career in 2012, when she moved to Malta. She made her first album there, and then came back to her homeland to release her second one. She self-defines herself as a 'singer-songwriter, sexologist, and lover of emotional communication', and her sound as 'neofolklore', combining the folklore of her land, La Mancha, with more modern sounds.

Quiero y Duelo [I Want and I Mourn] is a local expression of La Mancha that expresses the feeling of wanting something and battling with the pains and difficulties of trying to achieve it. She talks about her own quiero y duelo with music and also about all of those who had to abandon their roots in order to have a better life. In the presentation she said that last year watching Benidorm Fest she was impressed by the acts and wanted to send something to the contest this year because of it.

14. SAYONARA BY TWIN MELODY

Twin Melody is a group formed by the twin sisters Paula and Aitana Etxeberria (1999, Ordizia), known in all Spain thanks to their large following in Tik Tok (more than 18 million followers). They currently study Education in university and are regular guests in the late show El Hormiguero. This year they debuted in music with Ciao, a collab with Emma Muscat.

Sayonara was composed by Twin Melody, Jonathan Geraint Burt, and Natalia, and it is an empowering song about self love and leaving behind things that harm us or don't show our true selves. In the presentation they said that the song is in French, Spanish, English, and Basque, because those are the languages Twin Melody speak and they wanted to make the song as genuine as possible. They talked about how they are already preparing themselves for the staging and how they have filmed the music video. They want to combine song and dance.

15. TRACCIÓN BY RAKKY RIPPER

Raquel García Cabrerizo (1995, Granada), better known as Rakky Ripper, was one of the pioneers of Spanish hyperpop in 2019 alongside PUTOCHINOMARICÓN. Praised by artists such as Charli XCX or Dorian Electra, she was named one of the VOGUE Hot Talents 2021. She has published an EP and been in dozens of music festivals such as Sónar, ValleEléctrico, Covaleda, BIME, WarmUp, or SXSW.

Tracción [Traction] was composed by Rakky Ripper alongside Kickybombo, and it is a song with a sound that mixes hardcore, drum&bass, and techno. It talks about when you like someone but you are incapable of telling them so you just fantasize about them and the sexual tension and the fear of rejection just get entangled in all of that. In the presentation she says how Benidorm Fest is going to be a crucial point in her career, as well as a personal challenge cause he wants to give the best show ever.

16. TUKI BY SOFÍA MARTÍN

Sofía Martín (1996, Alicante) is a Hispano-German artist who uses her multicultural background to fuse different music styles and write in three languages. She has a few singles out of the dance and latin dance genres.

Tuki [aparently it's a Venezuelan word that means 'young punk', kinda like chavs in England or canis / chonis in Spain] was composed by Sofía, Freddy Rochow and Claudio Maselli, and it is a combination of Spanish and Latin rythms with European beats from dance and electronic music. It talks about being able to achieve your dreams no matter how or where you came from; tuki is that feeling when you finally achieve your goal after a long time working on it. In the presentation she says that she doesn't have any expectation in regards to Benidorm Fest, that she goes with the flow.

17. UFF! BY E'FEMME

E'FEMME (formed in 2019) is a girlband inspired by K-Pop groups and sounds, and formed by Sandy (1997, Pamplona), Melania (1998, Santa Cruz de Tenerife), BUBU (1999, Madrid), and Lottie (2000, Madrid). They want to combine all visual arts in their projects.

Uff! is a song composed by E'FEMME alongside Antonio Escobar and Barei. It is an empowering song about getting one's inside strength outside to stand your own ground. In the presentation they said that the song perfectly reflects their energy.

18. YO QUISIERA BY ALICE WONDER

Alicia Climent Barriuso (1998, Madrid), best known as Alice Wonder, is currently one of the most known artists in the Spanish indie scene. In 2017 she released her first EP, and has since released a full album and multiple collaborations with artists such as Javiera Mena.

Yo Quisiera [I Would Want] was composed by herself, and talks about the storm brewing inside someone who stops trying to understand the world and simply lives in it. Alice says that even if it seems like a pessimistic song, it is really positive, as it talks about having faith despite life's inconsistencies. In the presentation she talks about how the song was born from an improvisation in her mum's piano in a moment of shock. She also says that she really doesn't know why she's there, in the Benidorm Fest, and how all of it is really out of her comfort zone.

#benidorm fest 2023 #eurovision 2023 #benifest 2023 #esc 2023 #benidorm fest #benifest #eurovision #esc #sorry about all my incisions on operacion triunfo stuff #i don't get many opportunites to talk about ot so i really go hard when i see an oportunity lol

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randomshyperson · 4 years ago

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Wanda Maximoff x Reader / The Parent Trap - Final

Summary: When the identical twins Billy and Tommy Maximoff are sent to the same summer camp, they hatch a plan to get their mothers back together by switching places. Or, The Parent Trap AU.

Read on AO3 - Complete

Warnings: Fluff and a bit of language.

Notes: Tumblr won't let me answer anyone's comments, but don't think I didn't read yours in the first part post!!! Thanks for all the replies. Happy reading. Also, gif is not mine, and is absolutely perfect.

PART I

Wanda was not going to the camp.

Billy and Tommy were not the least bit happy about the news, but she insisted that it was best that they get used to Tabitha's presence in the family. You ignored the part of yourself that wanted to beg Wanda to go, and acted like a grown woman and more importantly, a committed one.

Wanda waved to you from the porch of your house while Nat gave you a wry smile and a look that said "we'll be talking about you the whole time" as you drove off.

At least the drive up to the mountains was quiet, you sang songs on the radio with the boys while Tabitha filled herself with repellent while she complained about the weather.

It was good to be in nature. You and Billy had made it a late summer ritual to spend time camping for a weekend and it was always great fun.

You were optimistic that it would be even more special now that Tommy was present.

- Hurry up, please. We have to arrive before sunset. - You told the three who were following you down the rocky path with difficulty.

- I need to drink some water and breathe, okay? I'll catch up with you. - says Tabitha, looking tired. She sits down on a rock next. You want to reach the place where you're staying before it gets dark, so you just nod in agreement and keep walking.

You have just walked a short distance when you hear your fiancée's scream. You run back the way you came and find her waving her hands in the air as if she had seen something.

- Tabi, what happened? - you ask worriedly.

- A monster attacked me! - she exclaimed with a mixture of disgust and fear, pointing at something on the ground. You looked in the direction and found only a frightened lizard, lying against one of the rocks, and let out a chuckle. Tabi then turned to the boys next to you with an angry expression. - These little brats have something to do with this!

- Come on, Tabitha. Stop it. - You scold her. - We have to go, okay? Hurry up.

You think harmony has improved when you're all sitting around the campfire.

- Those damn mosquitoes seem to like this stuff! - grumbled Tabitha angrily at your side. You frowned curiously.

- Let me see what you're using. - You took the transparent container, and twirled it around in your fingers. Then you sprinkled some on your own hand and smelled it. And then you giggled. - You'll attract all the bugs in the world with this. It's sugar water.

Tabitha let out a disgruntled sigh as she threw the package on the floor.

- Aren't you going to eat dinner? - you ask, noting that she was the only one who didn't help herself to the trout.

She lets out a wry chuckle.

- No, thanks. - She says. - I don't eat that stuff. I'll wait for breakfast. What are we having?

- Trout. - Your children answer in unison in a wry tone. You find it funny but prefer not to laugh.

- Great. - Tabitha rebuts impatiently. And then she gets up and says she's going to bed. You are trying to keep the little bit of trout left from burning, and are slightly startled when you feel Tabitha's hands on your neck. She gives you an open-mouth kiss, and you feel really uncomfortable. You don't notice the look of defiance she throws at your children. - Good night, honey.

- Good night. - You mumble with confusion at such a sudden display of affection.

You end up going to bed very late after Tabitha leaves. Much because your children are extremely more talkative and comfortable when she is not present. And then you spend hours listening to history of the camp and of Tommy, whom you knew so little about but loved so deeply. Maybe you ask too much about Wanda, but Tommy doesn't mind telling.

You send them to their tents as Billy begins to doze off against his brother. You can't help but think about how much you will miss the other half of your family when they return to London.

You awake in fright to the sound of a distant scream. You stumble between the blankets to open the tent, and when you pop your head out, you frown at the image of an angry, and completely drenched Tabitha walking toward where you were coming out of the lake.

You hurry out of the tent.

- Tabi, what happened? - You ask but take a step back when she continues to advance aggressively towards you.

- Here's the deal girl. - she says angrily as she catches up to you. - The day we get married, I'm going to send these brats to the first Swiss boarding school I can find! You choose now, me or them!

- Them. - you say without hesitation, a smile escaping your lips.

- I beg your pardon? - Tabitha asks incredulously.

- Them. - You repeat, then spell it out. - T-H-E-M. Got it?

Tabitha starts flailing in front of you with high-pitched screams and pushes you away. You roll your eyes impatiently and turn back to your tent to pack up.

Tommy and Billy are laughing in their tent but you don't scold them.

You park the car in the doorway while you help the kids down with their bags. Wanda gets out on the porch and walks quickly over to you.

- You are back early. And where is Tabitha? - she asks, frowning. You let out a humorless chuckle.

- We had a little disagreement. - you say as you put one of the larger backpacks on the floor. And then you reached into your shirt pocket and pulled out a ring. - She threw this in my face.

- Damn, I'm sorry. - Wanda said, but she didn't really seem upset.

- Oh, no. It's okay. - You said. - I think she finally showed me who she really was. Nature does that to people. - You remark with a light humor in your voice, and then hand the boys their backpacks. - How long are you two boys grounded anyway?

- Until college. - They respond grumpily as they walk back to the house.

You lean against the car with your arms crossed.

- Are you really all right? - Wanda asks.

- Yes, Wands. - You assure her. - Tabitha really thought she could send my children away from me.

- What?

You laughed humorlessly, and told Wanda about the outburst the other woman had had. The redhead seemed really angry, but you told her not to worry about it, the marriage was undone now, and Tabitha would not be coming back into your lives.

- I think I'd like a drink. - You remark. - But I'm going to take a shower first. Will you join me? - Wanda's cheeks flushed and she raised her eyebrow. You felt your own face heat up and quickly clarified. - I meant the drinks. Later.

- Of course. - She says simply, looking down at the floor. You hurry inside without knowing much of anything to say.

You eventually discover that Natasha is not home when you finish dressing and go downstairs to the kitchen. Wanda is sitting on one of the stools on the counter, reading the newspaper, and lets you know that Nat and Pietro have gone on a tour that she was sure consisted of Natasha showing Pietro places to drink in California.

- I guess dinner will be on me then. - You remark as you open the cupboard.

- Do you cook now? - she asked as she put the newspaper on the counter and leaned her head on her hands to look at you.

- Oh yes. - you say in a slightly ironic tone. - I know how to make pasta. And pasta....

Wanda giggles.

- Pasta sounds delicious. - She says smiling gently at you.

- Of course it does, I'm a great chef. - You joke while separating the ingredients.

When you are finished, you carry the boys' dinner to their rooms before returning to the dining room. The boys comment that you look nice, but you just smile and close their door.

You and Wanda sit on opposite sides and you try not to get used to the feeling of sharing a meal with her. It is so easy and cozy to have her in your home.

- You know you can tell me what you want to say. - Wanda comments after a few minutes since you have been eating in silence. - You don't have to put on your contemplative face and be completely silent.

You bite back a smile on your lips. It was almost embarrassing how easily Wanda could read you.

- What I want to say doesn't need to be said. - You retort with a hint of humor in your voice. Wanda raises an eyebrow in surprise and defiance.

- Try me.

You smile, but feel embarrassed. Then it's easier to roll your eyes around the room and gesticulate while talking.

- I was thinking how nice it is to have you here. - You confess. - How easy it feels, and how good it makes me feel. And I know I shouldn't think so, but I do. Is that enough for you, darling?

Wanda seems shocked, to say the least, by your honesty. Her cheeks redden, but she holds her gaze.

- Yeah, I, too, feel the same way. - she says finally.

You try not to smile so much, and focus on finishing your dinner, while Wanda does the same.

After you have washed the dishes, you mention that drink from earlier.

You take Wanda to your personal wine cellar. You know it's intimate and romantic, and exactly the kind of thing you would do on a date, but it feels so natural that you barely think about it.

You go downstairs to the wine cellar, while you walk with Wanda at your side among the stands, showing her your favorite wines.

- Oh, you'll like this. - You comment as you lead her to a small cabinet. You open the cabinet to reveal dusty bottles. - These are special wines for me. - You carefully grab one of the bottles, and show it to Wanda, while trying not to be too affected by having her so close to you. - This wine I had at my graduation.

- Wow, Peru, 1745. - She comments rubbing her finger on the bottle as she reads the date. You stored the item afterwards.

- This here is the wine I got at Steve's wedding. - You say pointing to the bottle on the far right. And then you bite your lip, deciding on the next one. - And this one. - You pick up one of the bottles from the top. - This one is very special to me.

You handed the bottle gently to Wanda, who analyzed its contents.

- The Avenger, Sokovia, 1421. - She read it with a small smile. - Why is it special?

You smiled at her, your hands in your pockets.

- It's our wedding wine. - You said. - It took me a long time to find it, but now I have every bottle ever produced.

- Oh.

You thought you were too close, because you could feel Wanda's breath against your face. And you were terrified, but you stepped forward.

- We can't... - she whispered as your foreheads touched. You sighed, and then stepped away just as she took a step back. You swallowed the tightness in your throat when you saw the thick tears in her eyes.

- Why not?

Wanda gently shook her head in denial, but she did not cry.

- You don't always have to be so brave. - You told her, feeling your own heart break at the rejection.

- But I do.

And then you heard the sound of the car in the garage, indicating the return of Pietro and Natasha, and the moment was broken. Wanda handed you back the bottle of wine before rushing out, and you wiped the tears from your eyes as you put the drink back away.

And then Wanda was leaving. And it was raining heavily.

You pushed all your feelings to the back of your mind, and remained tender and calm while your children said good-bye to each other, and Billy to his mother. You thought that crying would make them more nervous. And then you hugged Wanda tight before letting her go again.

As Billy and Natasha walked them to the taxi, you let the tears flow. And then you realized that you would not go through this again. You couldn't lose Wanda twice.

You have about a two-hour head start when you arrive in London with Billy. And then you are standing in the doorway of Wanda's house, and you are trembling. Billy holds your hand when you knock.

Erik Lehnsherr is old. That's the first thought that comes to your mind when you see Wanda and Pietro's father. And he seems relatively surprised to see you too, but the shock only lasts a minute, the next he smiles and hugs you tight.

- Look at you, rebenok. - he exclaims happily as he pulls you into the house while grabbing Billy’s hand. - You look beautiful!

When you go in for tea, and you explain that you would not leave Wanda again, you also find out that he helped Billy get Wanda to London and you are immensely grateful. And you talk for a long time, until Wanda and Billy arrive.

- Dad! We are home! - You hear Wanda shouting around the place.

- Hey, Grandpa. - You hear Tommy enter Erik's office, assuming that whoever is behind the desk reading the paper is the man. But it's Billy who puts down the paper, and greets his brother back. - What are you doing here?

- Billy! - exclaims Wanda in surprise as she enters the room. Billy gets up from his chair with a huge smile on his face.

- It took about 5 seconds after you left for us to realize that we couldn't let you go.

- We? - asked Wanda unsure.

You stepped out of the cover of the pylon you were standing on and made yourself visible to Tommy and Wanda.

- We. - You checked with a smile. - I already made the mistake of not going after you once, Wanda. I will never do that again.

- What... what do you expect me to do? - Wanda asks in a tearful and slightly ironic tone, and you begin to walk slowly towards her. - That I say we will work this out? An intercontinental relationship with our children being raised here and there... and we... We pick up where we left off. Growing old together... Is that what you want?

- Yes. - You whisper as you reach for her and lift your hands to her face, wiping her tears gently. - Yes to all questions. And don't forget our happy ending.

Wanda lets out a short laugh, and then you kiss her. It's sweet, and tender, and energizes your whole body, and melts your heart. The kiss is like coming home.

You get married on the same ship where you met. This time Pietro and Natasha are the best man. The cake is very good, and the boys get a stomach ache from eating so much. Steve, Tony, Bucky, Sam, Thor, and many more of all their mutual friends show up at the party.

You think your life has never felt so complete.

#wanda maximoff #wandaxreader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #marvel imagines #the parent trap au #wanda x you #wandavision

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idamariaw · 3 years ago

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A one-shot where you meet a british man, a bit clumsy for his own good sometimes but at least it brought him to you.

This is dedicated to @atlafan, Happy Birthday 🌸

The air was humid, warm and had a strong scent of your favourite jasmin bodywash as you carefully stepped out of the bathtub to continue to get ready for your date tonight. A date that you’ve been looking forward to all week and made it way easier to get through classes and exams, even though you didn’t know much about Harry yet. That was his name, Harry Styles.

You met him just over a month ago in the coffee shop near your apartment where you spend most off your afternoons to study or read, the earthy and warm environment having a calming effect and the staff always sweet. You were reading an article for your course in political science, Stevie Nicks ’Wild Heart’ playing with your notes and books neatly in a pile by your side as eveything sudden flew to the ground with a large thud. It startled you a bit and you took your headphones off to register what caused the mess while you heard a voice beneeth you along your dropped belongings,

”Shit! I-i’m so sorry. My guitar bag got stuck in the corner of your books, I really didn’t mean to.”

A mop of chocolate curls cought your eyes while speaking to you with his deep voice and keeping to apologize even though it didn’t matter, you knew it was an accident. After picking up your things he got up to his feet and you got the oppurtunity to really look at him now. Tall, broad build at the shoulders, skinny jeans with a button up in different patterns, curls to his chin and the most beautiful green eyes you’ve ever seen.

”I’m so fuckin’ clumsy, first time at this coffee shop and this happens.” Now you noticed he had an accent, a british one? Well if your cheeks weren’t burning before they sure were now.

”Oh no it’s okay! I promise. Accidents happen, i’m pretty clumsy myself so you’re not alone. I was getting zoned out on my work anyway so you helped me with that” You said with a smile to reasure you’re not irritated or anything.

”Thank you for trying to make me feel better, but your muffin got on the ground as well. Let me buy you another please?” He furrowed his eyebrows a bit and pouted his heartshaped lips and you just couldn’t say no.

”Oh and I’m Harry by the way, Harry Styles.”

After that you asked him to sit down with you and tried to give him a good impression of the shop although it’s caotic beggining. You learned that he actually was brittish, was majoring in English Literature, wrote music and sang covers with his band.

You met him every now and then the following weeks and after sharing a carrot cake with a latte a few days ago he finally got the courage to ask you what you thought about for weeks,

”Would you be willing to see me outside this coffee shop for dinner on Friday? Please?”

And here you were, freshly out the bath and in your closet looking for an outfit. It was early autumn and Harry said he’d pick you up at 6, so a leo printed long skirt and a sage green knitted sweather along with maroon converse and a bamboo knitted purse with some jewelry would work. A pretty little matching lace bralette and panties underneath just in case things would go that way. Just as you put on a layer of your strawberry flavoured lip gloss you heard the doorbell ring and your heart skipped a beat. You looked over yourself once more before getting your purse and rushed to the door.

There he stood, so good looking it almost made you angry, with his signature black skinny jeans, a black button up, brown boots, a tan coat and hair up in a bun.

”Hello darling, I’m sorry if i’m a tad early. These are for you by the way.” He came in for a hug and kissed your cheek as he handed you a bouquet of red roses and you got a chance to take in his strongly scented perfume that consumed your senses.

”No I was just ready so it’s okay! Wow thank you, i’ve never gotten flowers before. I’m just gonna put these in a vase and I’ll be right with you.” He furrowed his eyebrows a bit as he leaned against the treeshold.

”Really? Hm I’ll remember that then. I’ll just wait by the car, we’re going for a drive about 20 minutes away if that’s okay. Take your time darling.”

As said, he waited by the car and opened the door for you on the passenger side and then you were on you way.

”Can I have a guess at where we’re going? Dinner somewhere maybe?” You asked even though you didn’t really have any but you’ve always loved surprises and he didn’t even know that.

”Well you can guess darling but i’m not sure you’re gonna figure it out that easy. But yes, we will have dinner in a way.” He answered you with a crooked smirk, showcasting his dimples.

After the 20 minute drive he parked by a black steele double gate leading the way to something you were quite familiar with but haven’t visited in ages.

”The botanical garden?” You asked surprised while Harry opened the door for you to step out.

”Yeah, is that alright with you? I figured as you like the atmosphere at the coffee shop so much this could be nice.” He said a bit shyly.

”Are you kidding me? Ofcourse I love it, I used to be here as a kid with my parents a lot but haven’t been in ages!”

”Thank god, I got nervous there for a second. I’m just gonna get some things in the car but you can start walking up and I’ll meet you at the front.” He said as he started to pick some things out from the back.

You felt giddy and excited as you approach the building and started to walk up to the front like Harry told you. It was when you came to the entrance that you noticed it’s closed and locked. Did Harry know this? Then you felt a hand at the small of your back and the smell of his perfume announced his presens as you turned around and what you saw made you melt to a puddle inside. The guitarbag was secured aganist his back and in his arms he held a picnic basket with a blanket and filled with all kind of goods.

”An evening picnic at the botanical garden with some live music, can’t go wrong with that can we?” He said with a cheeky shrug even though you could sense the nerves in his eyes.

”Seriously? That’s so nice Harry, oh my god. It’s to much to be honest. But how do we get in? And is it even aloud?” You didn’t want to doubt him or his plans but you couldn’t help it as it was actually closed.

”Hm don’t need to doubt me darling. I know the owners son as I helped him with a poem analysis in our class so he owned me a favour.” He explanied as he fished up the key in his coatpocket and opened the door with ease.

The setting and environment was everything you remembered from when you were younger and visited this place, green and thriving plants and vegetation everywhere, even a little pond in the middle with a fountain. The ceiling was made of pure glass so you could clearly see the sky that began to darken and stars starting to shine through, it was breathtaking.

”I was thinking we could set up and get up these stairs close to the roof to we get the best view.” You heard Harry speak up as he lead the way up to a white spiral stair that got you to a spot near the roof to spread out everything and sit comfortably.

He really didn’t spare anything on the food or drink, a nice rosé wine, fruits and berries of all kinds and a fancy charcuterie board.

”Harry I hope you know that you didn’t really need to do so much for our date, a romcom with a burger and fries would have been just as nice. But I really appriciate this, thank you so much.” So said honestly because it was true, just being with him was more than enough.

”Thank you for being honest darling but it’s not to much. You deserve the effort and I want to show you how important this is for me, how important you are for me. Feed me a strawberry please? And do you have any song requests?” He said as he brought up the guitar from its bag.

”Maybe ’Leather and Lace’ by Stevie Nicks if you know that one?” You asked softly as you brought the strawberry to his pouty heartshaped lips and your throat got a bit dry when he hummed against the fruit as he took a bite.

”Mmh, thank you darling. And yes I know that one, a pretty big Stevie fan myself actually.”

He said as he started to play the strings on the guitar, the melody started to fill the garden and softly singing the lyrics made everything complete. It was almost like the man in front of you couldn’t be real with how perfect he looked.

”You’ve been staring at my lips quite a lot this evening.”He said taking out of your trance and making you blush down your neck.

”W-what? Oh i’m sorry Harry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable…” You started to explain yourself but he cut you off quickly,

”Shh, no darling it didn’t make me uncomforable at all. Come here please.” He made grabby hands at you as you sat opposite to him on the blanket so you could come up to his lap.

”I promise you it didn’t. I’ve been looking at you too you know, so beautiful today it makes my heart ache. So happy and thankful, proper cuite you are. Must have the sweetest mouth to. Would you let me have a taste?” He said as his fingers came to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and lips almost touching yours.

”Yes Harry please.” You almost whimpered against his mouth until you felt his lips softly pressing aganist yours. You shifted in his lap to wrap your fingers in the nape of his neck below the bun to deepen the kiss, Harry leaning back to take a breath.

”Tastes like strawberrys darling, gonna give me a toothache with this sweet mouth of yours.”

You continued to kiss for a while and as he moved down to your neck he felt you shift against him more and he got the courage to lay you down on the blanket and hover over you to get better acess to the rest of you.

”Can I take this off? Or will you be cold?” He asked while playing with the hem of your sweather.

”No I want it off please, I won’t be cold.” You barely finished the sentence before the sweather was off and Harry started to kiss from you neck down to the crease of your breasts.

”Smells like flowers darling, and so soft. Perfect tits you have.” His raspy voice sent a shudder down your core the same time as he carefully touched your breasts and started to kiss them through your lacy bralette.

”What’s this hm? A fuckin nipple piercing? Almost as if you’re tryin to kill me, fuck.” Oh yeah, you almost forgot about that one in your right nipple and he sucked and nipped at it as a man obsessed.

Being teased and played with for so long now made you whimper again and you tried to buck your hips into him for more friction now as you started to ache from your lower region.

Harry noticed this and made the decision to use this against his favor.

”Do you want my mouth somewhere else darling? Seems like your aching pretty bad. Or fingers maybe? Need you to talk to me.”

”Yes please, I want your mouth on me so bad. Please Harry.” If you weren’t so worked up you would feel embarassed for your neediness but you just couldn’t care right now.

”So polite, ofcourse I’ll give it to you. Anything you want, you’ll have. Can I take the skirt off?”

You nodded quickly and he got down so he was facing your core and budged up the skirt around your hips. He kissed your mound over your panties and looked up at you with a cheeky smirk.

”Matching knickers, hm? You’re flattering me darling, being so pretty for me.”

”I-i was just being hopeful…” You let out a breathy laugh at his observation feeling the blush creeping to your cheeks again.

”I was to if i’m being honest but I didn’t want to push you into anything, i’m so thankful that you let me see you like this but I really want to take these of as pretty as they may be and taste you properly. Smells so fuckin’ good I’m going insane.” He took the panties of and let out a low growl while spreading you open with his fingers and see how you were glistening from the wetness under the starlight. Going in for a long stripe with his tounge from your slit to your swollen nub, sucking and nibbling at it just the right way to make you give out a loud shaky moan. He continued playing with your clit with his tounge and lapping up all the sweetness he could get while he felt your legs starting to shake against his head and your moans only got louder.

”Making such pretty noices for me darling, keep going. Need to know that I make you feel good. Want my fingers as well while I play with your clit? Already so swollen for me.”

”Yes fuck i’m gonna cum soon, please Harry I want your fingers please…”It was all you could say before you felt two of his fingers press against your slit and tounge going back to your clit. Your hands found his hair and he let put a growl against you as you tugged on it harder than you intendent, small strais of hair coming out from the bun.

”You can cum darling, I’ve got you. Being so good for me and letting go like this. Sweetest pussy I’ve ever had, so so fucking good for me. Let me have it, please.” He continued to thrust his fingers as he said his dirty words and that sent you off the edge and gave you the most intense orgasm of your life. Small tears rolled down your cheeks and Harry kissed your inner thighs to help you come down. He licked his fingers clean and covered you again with the skirt, going up to face you and kiss your lips.

”Mmh, hi pretty girl. Felt good?” He asked nuzzling against your nose and stroking your cheek.

”Oh my god, yes. You’re literally perfect Harry, thank you.” You closed your eyes and cuddled into his side as he laid beside you looking up to the stars against the glass ceiling.

”No I’m not darling but thank you. What do you say about cleaning up and head over to mine, watch a movie and I can make you a cuppa? Sounds good?” He asked you before whispering quitly to himself ”And thank god for me being a clumsy fool.”

#harry styles preferences #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles story

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lokust · 3 years ago

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Drunken Mischief

I swear I’m working on the follow up to the last story but this was in my brain and demanded to be written so enjoy.

—

——

“Mobius… Mobius, come on! Won’t you have a drink with me?”

Loki had been begging Mobius to have even just a few shots with him for what seemed like hours, and he was determined to get a yes.

Mobius had rolled his eyes at the God’s question, finally giving in, “Yes, Loki I will have a drink with you. One drink, alright? I know how you get”.

Loki furrowed his eyebrows and put his hands up in a defensive gesture, “How I ‘get’? I don’t ‘get’ any type of way, thank you very much. I can handle my alcohol”.

…..

Well, he could have handled his alcohol 4 tequila shots and 3 martinis ago, but Mobius had stayed true to his word and only had one drink himself.

Loki, on the other hand, was flushed red in the face and stumbling around as he attempted to make himself yet another martini.

He was all over the place, giggling up a storm and singing some song that Mobius was sure didn’t even exist until Loki started singing it.

Sure, it was wholesome to see the God so carefree and happy, and giggling, but Mobius couldn’t let him keep drinking.

“Hey- Hey, Loki, maybe you’ve had enough, yeah? A sober Loki is difficult enough, I can only imagine how difficult you must be when you’re off your ass”, he spoke, carefully pulling the bottle of Gin from the God’s hands.

Loki was too gone to really do much more other than reach for the bottle as it was taken from him, “Why…”, he whined out drunkenly, “Why have you taken it from me?”

Mobius huffed out a small laugh, “You’ve been cut off for the night. Pour yourself some water- wait, don’t. You’ll spill it. Let me pour you some water”.

Loki grumbled as he leaned against Mobius in his inebriated state, “I don’t want water, I want another martini”.

The analyst rolled his eyes, “And I want to be in Panama City with a personal water craft and a God who evidently cannot handle a couple martinis. You’re getting water”.

Loki groaned, “You never let me have any fun, Mobius. Lighten up~”, he slurred, tugging at the sleeve of Mobius’s jacket and pinching the agent’s cheek.

Mobius swatted Loki’s hand away from his face and picked up the pitcher of water that sat on the round table. He poured a decent amount into a small cup as Loki continued to pester him, “Drink that”, he said, putting the cup in front of his friend.

Said friend huffed, “I’m not drinking it”.

Mobius rolled his eyes and put his hand on his hip as he tapped his foot impatiently, “Drink the water, Loki”.

The taller of the two crossed his arms over his chest and turned his nose up, “No”, he said stubbornly, only to yelp when Mobius poked him in the ribs as a warning.

“Drink. It”.

Loki smiled a very drunk smile, “Make. Me”.

For a moment, Mobius was frustrated, and he was prepared to unleash every bit of his frustration and make Loki drink the water like the God himself had suggested, but suddenly, it hit him.

Loki was drunk, and happy, and very intentionally provoking Mobius with his stubborn act, and Mobius saw it in the way Loki braced himself when he told Mobius to “make him”.

Mobius’s face fell from one of agitation to a small smirk, “No”, he said, watching Loki’s very poor defense fall as he furrowed his eyebrows.

“No? What- Fine. Then I just don’t have to drink the water”, he crossed his arms again with another small huff as he looked away from Mobius, his expression slowly turning into a grumpy pout.

Mobius just shrugged, “Alright. Fine by me, big guy. I’ll be having a seat right over there. You’re welcome to join me”, he said, gesturing to the small brown sofa before smiling innocently at Loki and moving across the room to sit down.

Loki was baffled. Mobius usually got frustrated enough to pin him down and make him squeal like a child within a couple moments of his stubborn antics. Not that he wanted that. He just didn’t understand the sudden change. Yeah.

He stood for just a moment, soaking in his own befuddlement at what had just happened before he just went back to being drunk and stubborn, “I know what you’re doing”, he said matter-of-factly.

Mobius glanced over his shoulder at the tall God, “Mm, really? What’s that?”, he asked innocently.

Loki just grumbled, “You’re acting like you don’t care to get me to drink it”, he said, sounding incredibly similar to a child who didn’t get his way.

“Oh, is that what I’m doing?”, he asked, “Or are you acting like this to get a reaction out of me?”

Loki stomped his way over to Mobius very angrily, “I am not acting like anything”, he said, plopping down on the sofa beside his friend.

“Oh you’re not?”, he teased, prodding and poking at Loki’s sides and watching his eyes light up as he curled uselessly away from the small attack.

Loki shook his head through an outburst of giggles, drunkenly swatting at the hands that were tazering his sides, “Gehehet ohohohoff!”

Mobius chuckled and pulled Loki closer to him, “No”, he said, wrapping one arm around his friend’s hip to keep him in place, “Honestly, Loki, we need to have a lesson in asking for the things we want, but we’ll save that for another time. Right now, it’s about getting you sobered up”.

Loki’s eyes widened as he writhed in Mobius’s grip.

“Now”, the agent started, “You’ll either laugh yourself back to sobriety or you’ll call for mercy and drink the water”.

Loki’s breath hitched in his throat, but he had no time to protest as Mobius pushed him down against the sofa and tickled relentlessly at his belly and sides.

Mobius refused fo hold back, knowing it was what Loki was going for anyway.

“SHIHIHIHIHIT! IHIHIHIHI- NOHOHOHOHO! Nononono nohohohoho!”, he squirmed weakly in Mobius’s hold, feeling a hand slip underneath his shirt and crawl all the way up his side to scratch at his ribs.

He squealed and pushed at the hand that was keeping him down on his back while trying to wiggle away from the one skittering at his top ribs, “Nohohohot thehehehere! Mobius! Nohohohoho!”

Mobius hummed, “Not there? How about… here?”, he asked teasingly, pulling Loki’s shirt up and suddenly leaning down to blow a loud raspberry in the center of the God’s belly.

Loki squealed and arched his back as he tugged at Mobius’s blond hair, “WAHAHAHAIT! NOHOHOHOHO! GO BAHAHAHACK!”, he kicked and pleaded but he just couldn’t fight it as intoxicated as he was.

Mobius blew a couple more raspberries before letting up a little and using both hands to scratch and spider as quickly and as gently as he could manage at Loki’s sides, “Oh, how nice of you to try to get closer to me. Really makes this easier, you know?”

Loki shook his head frantically, laughing away as Mobius’s fingertips crawled up his sides to his top rib, teasing just above it before clawing all the way back down both sides to pinch at the lanky man’s hipbones.

Loki was beside himself and his nerves were on fire, but he knew he brought it on himself. He was almost glad he was so drunk, otherwise Mobius would’ve definitely recognized the bright blush on his cheeks.

He slapped and swatted weakly at his captor’s hands as he curled in on himself pitifully, feeling Mobius slip his hands back around to spider and scribble around the fleshy area of his belly.

His back arched and he kicked his feet a bit, but he didn’t know what to do with himself. “MOHOHOHOBIUS ITS NOHOHOT FAHAHAIR!”, he whined through his cackles as he rolled over on his stomach and tried to crawl away.

“Nope, get back here”, he said, pulling Loki back towards him by the trickster’s hips, “You’re not goin anywhere, my inebriated friend”.

Loki groaned as his sides and ribs were attacked while he lay face down on the sofa, “Plehehehease! I cahahan’t!”, he hiccuped and snorted through his incessant giggling, reaching behind himself to push at Mobius’s wrists.

“I yieheheld!! Ihihihi yield!”, he exclaimed as his giggles began to sound more exhausted.

Mobius stopped, rubbing his back soothingly, “You gonna drink the water now?”

Loki nodded with a small breathy hum as he couldn’t find it in himself to do anything more.

Mobius walked to the small table to retrieve the cup before he helped Loki sit up and drink it, which he did in nearly one gulp.

Loki set the cup aside and leaned against his companion, grumbling about how unfair that ordeal was.

Mobius just chuckled, “You love it”.

Loki scoffed, his face heating up once more, “I do not, yo-”,

Mobius put a finger to his lips and shushed him, “Shhh, you’ll hurt yourself stumbling over your lies. Just relax”.

Loki huffed as he stayed silent. In his mind, it was to spite Mobius.

“Maybe next time, we can work on learning how to ask when you want me to tickle you instead of provoking it by refusing to treat yourself after getting so drunk you can barely stand, yeah?”

Loki wasn’t even listening. He was drunk, and he was exhausted. He heard the “yeah?” at the end of Mobius’s sentence and agreed senselessly with a nod and a hum, promptly curling up to fall asleep against Mobius.

Mobius chuckled and shook his head, but he let Loki sleep regardless, knowing the trickster was comfortable right where he was as he rubbed the God’s back soothingly.

And if anything good came of this, it was that Mobius no longer had to imagine how difficult a drunk Loki could be.

#tickling #marvel tickles #avenger tickles #tickle community #tickles #lee loki supremacy #loki tickle #lokius tickles #ticklish loki #lee!loki #sfw tickling community #sfw tickles #tickle fic

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ghostdrew22 · 4 years ago

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Angel || Draco Malfoy

Requested: No. Pairing: post-war Draco Malfoy x fem!reader Warnings: Lots of angst in the beginning, mentions of self-harm/self-destructive behavior, mentions of blood, quite a few mentions of the devil, ptsd, just a lot of dark themes ig (let me know if i need to add another warning) Summary: You’ve always been an angel in Draco’s eyes and now, years after the war, he’s reminded why once again.

WORDS: 3440

I’ve been wanting to write about the ‘devil on the shoulder’ trope for a while and I felt like @anchoeritic‘s 3K WRITING CHALLENGE was the perfect opportunity though i think i lost the plot a bit at some point and this probably isn’t what you had in mind.

i had to do so much research for this, probably the most research i’ve ever done for a fic. It’s a lot heavier than I’d intended for it to be (i almost cried at certain points) but I still really love it.

anyway this fic is inspired by ‘Angel’ by FINNEAS (which is a great song that I recommend listening to) and i hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

~~~

Anger.

So much anger that he doesn’t know what to do with it. Red, hot, fury just begging to be unleashed.

He takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes. When he opens them again his fist collides with the wall. “Fuck!”

The miniature Mephistopheles that’s made home on his shoulder tells him to keep going, that this is the only rational response. Draco heeds the advice until his knuckles are bleeding and there’s a dent in the wall.

He lets out a frustrated sigh as he thinks about you returning in a few hours, then he punches the spot one last time out of frustration. Draco’s own love for destruction lies parallel to the myths surrounding Beelzebub, his own virtues bringing him to peril instead of an unseen force of evil. But it’s much easier to believe that the voice always telling him to do wrong, is not his own.

Maybe this is who he is, a fucked up kid with anger issues. Maybe this is all he’ll ever be, knuckles spotted in crimson and harmful thoughts being shoved down as to not raise alarm.

He feels violated by the mark on his arm. Sobs stacking up in his lungs at the very thought, but all he can express is anger- all he can understand is the resent that crawls beneath his skin and settles into his bones like calcium.

Was it his choice? No. Did it matter? No. Choice means nothing in a world run by circumstance. Intention holds no value when there’s no action to follow through. In another world, a better world perhaps, he would’ve had the right to choose and he hopes that he would’ve chosen the right side- the good side.

Forgiveness, they say, is often practiced by the strong willed. He’d tried to forgive, he really had, but Iblis had told him that it didn’t matter who he forgave because they’d still done this to him anyway- they’d still sold his soul to the Devil.

“Draco, when will you forgive me?” She pleads and he shrugs with a thin smile.

“I don’t know mother. I don’t know.”

“It’s been years.” He turns a steal glaze toward her.

“And yet I still can’t get the mark off.”

“What am I meant to do?”

“There’s nothing you can do. It’s too late to do the right thing.”

“What would the right thing have been back then? Huh?”

“The right thing to do would’ve been to protect me.”

“I did protect you. I took the Vow for you!” She yells as she stands out of her chair and points an accusatory finger toward him. He’s seen this scene so many times before that it’s permanently imprinted in his mind, but this time he’s not a scared teenager being scolded by his mother.

“I didn’t ask you to do that.” He stands as well, “I just asked you to save me. Why didn’t you save me?”

“What?” She’s taken aback,

“Summer before fifth. You told me that you’d had enough of him, you told me that we were going to leave and run away so that you could save me from him, from all of them.”

“So now you hate me because I couldn’t leave your bigoted father?”

“No, mother. I hate myself because you couldn’t leave my bigoted father.” He tucks his chair back into the table and pulls out his wand, “Thank you for dinner mother, it was lovely.”

Then he’s gone, and he doesn’t come back.

Draco had shut himself out from the world, hoping that his loathing would dissipate with time but it hadn’t. He still wakes up every morning with that tiny voice reminding him that he’s worthless, and he still believes it.

Why had he done it? Why had he allowed them to put the mark on his arm in the first place? Why had he put his own morals, his own principles, on the line to save a family who might not have done the same for him? Why had he allowed himself to succumb to the many ministrations of Diabolous, which dragged him further and further down the dark side?

Weakness. That’s the only answer he can conceive. Or maybe that’s the sound of Lucifer on his shoulder, consistently reminding him that he’s no match for the evil that resides deep within his soul. He can’t fight it, it’s who he is. He’s weak and he’s unholy. Bathed so often in sin that it’s sunk into his DNA. Does that even make sense?

Draco shakes his head and runs his hands down his face in an attempt to ground himself. But it doesn’t work, all he can see is red and all he can hear is his own conscience belittling him for continuously making the wrong choices. Why does he always make the wrong choices?

His throat so dry it feels as though he’s swallowed sand. His palms sweaty like he’s dipped them in oil. He paces around the room in a desperate effort to remember where you’d placed the box last time this happened. He can feel himself disconnecting from the world, feel himself sinking further and further into the dredges of his mind that torment him most.

That part of his brain that holds the memories, the shame, the anguish, is his biggest obstacle in recovery. It’s always on good days, days when… He blinks when he realizes that no fond memories come to mind. Does he even have good days? Or does this always happen, is this what’s become normal for him?

He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and steps back in shock, completely forgetting about his mission to find the box. The man in front of him looks clean, taken care of. When had he become this man and stopped being the terrified teenager that never ate and wore bags beneath his eyelids like name tags.

There is muscle on his arms, taut beneath the dress shirt that he must’ve put on that morning before going to classes… or work? When had he earned the right to stop looking the way he felt? Which of his actions had merited his beauty returning, when the dark mark still lays clear beneath the dress shirt that he’s got on? There are hickeys along his chest- one, two, three, littered around his torso like a map to his heart- and he can only assume that they’d been left in the wake of your last meeting, because he can’t seem to piece together the memory of them being made.

You. Where are you? Why can’t he remember where you are or what you look like? Did you finally leave? Did you finally realise that he wasn’t worth any of the pain and anguish that he’d put you through? Had you ultimately decided that Draco and the dark mark could not be separated, both physically and mentally? Maybe he never managed to redeem himself in your eyes, and it hurt so much to lose you that he made himself forget.

Redemption, he’d searched far and wide for it. He’d spent the months after the war trying to find some spiritual cleanse for the ailment in his essence, had dabbled in every muggle religion he came across in hopes of finding something that would provide him freedom from guilt. The Bible, the Qur’an, the Gita, the Torah, the Guru Granth Sahib, the Tripitaka- none of the holy books he’d read had promised him enough solace to feel deserving of love from a higher entity. They had all just reminded him of the purity and innocence that muggles embodied, the same qualities he came so close to erasing.

Redemption wasn’t in the cards for him. If it had been a game of Poker, Draco would’ve been the first fold with the knowledge that he didn’t stand a chance against the better players at the table. Who were the better players? He didn’t really know, he just knew that he wasn’t one of them.

His eyes drift toward his reflection once more and he feels disgust crawl through his anatomy. Nausea, a familiar friend in times like these, making itself comfortable in the barrel of his gut. Why had he even eaten today anyway? Sustenance won’t fill the emptiness that’s making domicile in his chest, it won’t make him less of a habitat to repulsive regret and desolation.

He walks toward the dresser and picks up a pocket knife that’s sitting in-between some make up and a music box. Then like deja vu he can already feel the weapon pinching, digging beneath his skin as if it’s trying to excavate bone. He recalls blood pouring out, drowning his pale skin in spills of vermillion and carmine, and dropping to the floor. The floor, chalky tile with tiny chards of black glass engrained in it, something that he hadn’t come up with himself but liked anyway. Who had come up with that again?

Screams, familiar but unrecognizable, had filled his ears soon after. He remembers his arm being wrapped in a bandage, him being carried off the bathroom floor and taken to the Hogwarts infirmary, no, it was actually St Mungo’s. He remembers being treated and loud cries settling down into comforting whispers beside him. He remembers feather light touches being placed on his face and kisses settling onto the skin of his palm.

He remembers something good, but he doesn’t know what.

He remembers the injury, and knows that it didn’t work.

Draco takes a deep breath and puts the knife back down. Staring at his reflection once more he sees that the man standing before him is not the same child that had stepped into battle way back when. When was that? Months? Years? He can’t tell.

The box. The box will tell him. But he doesn’t know where it is, he doesn’t even know where he is anymore. This room is definitely not his Hogwarts dorm room, it’s not in Hogwarts at all, and it’s not his room in the Manor either. Where is he?

His eyes shoot up when he hears a door shutting, and soon after voices follow suit. The voices are coming toward him, in this strange room that he’s in, and Draco struggles to identify them. His dorm mates potentially? No, this clearly isn’t Hogwarts. Friends? His mother? You?

Then there’s a laugh, from a child, from two children, and suddenly none of it makes sense any more. He knows those voices, he knows those laughs, so well that they might as well be his own, but he can’t seem to attach faces or names to them.

A few of the voices drift off, further down the hall, and one gets louder as the door to the bedroom opens. Draco holds his breath as the person walks in, not knowing what to expect, and feels a confused sense of relief wash over him when he sees you standing there.

You laugh as you enter the room, “If you can get an outstanding in Transfiguration then we’ll get you whatever your heart desires.” You respond to your daughter as you recall how both you and Draco had struggled with the subject during your Hogwarts years.

You furrow your eyebrows at the state of your bedroom- documents scattered across the bed, clothes in tiny piles all over the floor, and a tiny dent in the wall beside the bathroom door. A sigh escapes your lips as you process the mess and prepare yourself for what’s about to come. You turn and your eyes land on your husband, and your heart breaks at the sight of him. He’d promised this morning that he’d be fine, it was the only reason that you’d left him alone, but clearly he wasn’t.

“Love? Are you okay?” You ask softly as you take the shoes off of your feet and close your bedroom door behind you. He tilts his head to the side momentarily in confusion, but then realisation flashes across his eyes and he takes quick strides toward you.

“Oof.” You breathe out when he pulls you into his chest and rests his forehead on your shoulder.

“Y/N.” He muffles into your shoulder and you feel your heart swell with love for him- this man who recognizes you instantly, even when the entire world is nothing more than a distant memory.

“Miss me?” You ask with a small laugh as you bring your hands up to wrap around him tightly. He mumbles an agreement and you smile, “I missed you too.”

“Bad day.” He whispers and you nod, rubbing his back in an effort to soothe him.

“I know baby, wanna talk about it?”

“No. Can’t remember.”

“Okay, that’s fine.” You pull him away from you and kiss his forehead with a warm smile, “We can just lie down for a while.”

He obliges as you pull him toward the bed and shuffle the papers off of it, climbing on after you and setting his head in your chest. You run your fingers through his hair and hum, trying to your best to make him feel calm and prevent another breakdown.

But your efforts are futile, within the hours that Draco had been alone he’d thought every terrible thought that he possibly could, Al-Shaitan had already tormented your husband through a series of painful misconceptions. Draco had never really subscribed to religion or faith but after the war he’d identified quite quickly with the concept of the Devil- confessing that he believed he had an evil conspirator sitting on his shoulder- and felt that his own soul deserved to be damned. You’d tried to rid him of that notion, many times, but it never worked, he was in too deep.

You tense up when you feel a cry escape his lips and his fingers tighten into the space of your torso. “I’m sorry.”

He feels terrible, terrible for ruining all of your hard work. All the effort you’d put into rebuilding him now disintegrating in the blink of an eye. But you’re here now, you’re going to fix him again, he knows it.

You try to level your breathing so that you don’t cry too, so that you don’t fall into this pit of despair with him, because Merlin knows that any pain Draco feels takes as rough a toll on you. You pull him off of you and sit up, bringing him to sit as well, so that you can look him in the eyes.

“Sorry for what Bub?”

“For being broken. I-“ He feels another sob rock through him and you pull him into your chest. “Please fix me Y/N.” He pleads, a whimper following suit.

His fingers are digging into you again, he’s clinging so tightly to you like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t stay close enough, and it hurts you to know that even after all these years he’s scared that you’ll leave.

“You’re not broken Draco, there’s nothing to fix.”

“But I’m- I’m-“ Cries start to escape rapidly and interrupt him. He can’t see clearly anymore as tears form in his waterline and obstruct his view of you. It hurts, everything just hurts.

“You’re not broken, my love.” You whisper as you cup his face, “You’re not evil, you’re not bad. You’re good. You’re my husband, I love you. Did you open the box?”

He shakes his head, “Couldn’t find it.”

“Okay, let me get i-“ You’re cut off by your bedroom door opening and your children marching in.

“Dad, you’ll never guess what happened at school today- Oh, is this a bad time?” Ariel, your daughter, stops in her tracks as she raises her eyebrows at you.

You shake your head and gesture for them to come in. “I think it just got a little much for him this year. Please get me the box, love.”

Ariel goes to the headboard and pulls out the aforementioned box from the first drawer, before her and Cael, your son, get comfortable on the bed beside you and Draco. But Draco doesn’t need it anymore, he can already sense himself coming back down to earth. He knows where he is- with you, in your house, with your children, in your bed. He’s home, he’s safe.

He takes the box anyway and begins to unload its contents in silence, the three of you observing him with admiration. It’s a small circular box that your children made a few years back after witnessing one of his episodes for the first time, containing momentos from the last 18 years of you and Draco’s lives together. Pictures, notes, a few school projects.

“Tell him about what happened at school today, it’ll probably make him laugh.” Cael encourages his older sister Ariel, and she does as told.

Draco pays a significant amount of attention to the story, piecing together facts that he’s slowly starting to understand and recognize as a part of his normal life. He intertwines his fingers with Cael’s as Ariel continues telling the story from her spot on your lap.

Love.

So much love that he doesn’t know what to do with it. Bursts of it just choking him out.

Draco remembers everything now. He remembers this house of yours, the one he’d bought straight out of Hogwarts and begged you to live in with him because “It’s nothing without you in it”. These children that you’d had 14 years ago, that’d he’d been so scared to raise because he thought they’d resent him, and that made everything in the world just seem brighter. This life that he modeled with you on the embers of his haunting past, this life that reminds him he’s good.

Before you, he would’ve been terrified to show any one his vulnerable side, especially his children, but you’d taught him that loving someone means loving all the good bits and the bad bits, all the happy moments and the sad moments. Now he knows that when days like this happen, when he gets so lost inside the mental maze of his own construction, the three of you will always be waiting to help him out.

Ariel finishes her story and Draco bellows out a laugh, feeling thankful to have you three around in his moments of weakness.

His three guardian angels- the only people who can always lead him away from the shadow in his mind and toward the luminescence that he carries within him. “All the good within us is split in the middle, half from you and half from mum, just as it should be. I hope you remember that we wouldn’t be who we are without you both.” Cael suddenly speaks up and you smile pridefully at him.

“They wouldn’t.” You add once he’s done and smile, “I couldn’t have done such a bad job without you.”

“Hey!” Ariel accuses and you all laugh.

“She’s right though, I am the one who taught you hexes at age 7.” Draco grins bashfully and you roll your eyes.

“And look at us now, acing Charms!”

“See love,” Draco turns to you, “There is a method to my madness.”

“Mhmm.” You hum with a small smile. “Go do your homework, dinner soon.”

“Yes, I’m making pizza tonight.” Draco adds as he kisses both of your children on their foreheads.

They excitedly hop off the bed and run out of the room. “I can’t belie-“

“Harry called.” Draco interrupts you and your eyes go wide at his statement but you nod for him to continue, “He wanted to know how I was doing, you know with it having been 18 years since the war and all. Offered to come spend the day with me and make sure I’d be alright while you were gone.”

“And you said no?” You raise your eyebrows and he shakes his head.

“No, I told him that I’d come by his office instead. Then when I was getting ready… I just started having flashbacks again, and my mark hurt. I felt horrible all of a sudden, like there was huge weight on my chest and this fog obscuring my vision.”

There are few things that Draco has faith in, but you, you he never runs short on trust for. You’re a constant in his life, a shoulder that he can always rely on when he needs it, and as he sits here and tells you about his day, he feels love for you hit him tenfold.

You, this beautiful, kind, ethereal being that has no place on earth. You, the one who’s managed to convince him that saints are real. You, who has given him your entire life, along with all the love that you have to offer. You, Y/N, the love of his life.

You.

An angel.

~~~

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coldshrugs · 4 years ago

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praying that it waits for me

featuring: douglas friedman; supporting cast: alma green, verda, tina word count: 1.4k note: a @wayhavensummer entry for the 6/13 prompt first pride! doug's gay, i said so. (p.s. if you're closeted, i love you so much and it's okay not to come out. your reasons are your business and you're still part of this beautiful community)

It's a mindless thing, the way his attention searches for purchase on something, anything, in front of him. Something immediate. All the while those inescapable thoughts hover around the edge of his attempts at stimulation.

Douglas glances down at his phone. Back to the work computer. Clicks through a few links. Tries to read a stupid listacle. Back down when the phone vibrates—a text from Dad. He’ll think about that later. He swipes it off the screen as Alma and Verda come up from the lab.

They’re chattering away in a bubble of quiet laughter and relaxed touches as they hang their white coats on hooks by the station’s kitchen. There's something familial between them, an understanding that Doug’s never had with anyone.

He’s not sure if it’s something he can have. But he can hope.

It was months ago that Alma invited him in when he had nowhere else to go, even after he’d acted like an idiot. Longer still since she’d put herself between him and an attacker. Doug can’t describe how grateful he is that she cared. No one ever seems to care.

He thought he was in love, just for a moment. Thought he could finally ignore this clawing in his chest.

The part of himself he can’t face.

He buries the thought for now. They’re wandering over anyway.

“How’s it going, Doug?” Alma leans against his desk, words caught mid-giggle, and the bubble of warmth extends to him for a moment. The natural pull of her gravity is something he can’t resist—fully aware that this is not attraction—because he knows she’d care. She’d listen and tell him it’s okay.

He doesn’t say anything important. Only shrugs and offers a weak smile. “I’m okay. Ready to clock out.”

If they were alone, he could say more. Maybe even tell her the truth.

“I hear that.” She groans.

Eric pokes his head through the glass door, both daughters in tow, and Verda meets him with a quick kiss. Douglas tries not to stare. Takes a deep breath to hide the heat in his face.

There’s something else he can’t imagine having. Best not to even hope for that.

Goodbyes are said. Doug keeps his head down. It’s not long before one of the volunteers comes to relieve him at the front desk, and then he’s free for the night.

He wanders around town for a while. A coffee from Haley’s to savor at the docks; flipping through something new at the bookstore; finally, a single beer at the bar. Anything to avoid going home.

His phone buzzes for the first time since work. Dad again. Better check both texts now.

4:52 PM: Councilman Meyers and his family are coming to dinner tonight. Don’t embarrass me by being late.

Doug is way past late. That was the one that came through while he was at the front desk.

8:03 PM: You are, as always, a disappointment.

That sinking feeling in his gut both leads the way and slows his steps as he shuffles back to the north side of town. Back to the place he feels emptiest.

Doug enters as quietly as he can. There’s the clink of ice in a tumbler from the sitting room. Dad must be drowning his fury with whiskey.

“Goodnight,” Douglas mumbles from the foyer. No response.

His father doesn’t even bother to berate him to his face anymore. Doug doesn’t know what’s worse, being yelled at or being ignored.

In the safety of his room, the weight falls away. He can practice being himself.

He curls into bed with his laptop, fingers hovering over the keys with uncertainty. Every letter, every word typed into the search bar solidifies the truth of it a little more. The forums are always full of support, camaraderie, and understanding. More empathy than he's been shown in his life.

Would he receive the same love?

Doug showers before bed, wipes the fog off his mirror, and practices saying it.

"I'm gay," he whispers to himself. Then just a little louder. "I'm gay. I'm gay."

It’s not comfortable, but it’s his. Like new jeans, still too stiff when he sits, but they fit perfectly. Boots that might cause a blister for the first week, but will last for years.

He likes how it looks on him. Likes it enough to smile.

Maybe tomorrow will be different. Maybe he'll tell someone besides his reflection.

- - -

Tomorrow isn't different, nor is the next day. Or the one after that. But eventually, after stockpiling his courage, Doug decides it's time.

He stops at Haley’s to pick up a couple coffees. He doesn’t know Alma’s order, but everyone likes a flavored latte well enough, right? He wants to extend a friendly gesture. She’s the closest thing he’s had to a friend in a long time.

He catches her sliding out of her car in the station’s parking lot. His pounding heart protests as he moves around to the front of the car to make himself known.

It’s now or never.

“Alma,” he starts.

“Morning, Doug. Everything alright?” She heaves a messenger bag onto her shoulder and bumps the door shut with her hip. He looks for any signs of annoyance--a sharpened look, a pinched brow, a disappointed frown. Things he's used to seeing when he tries to talk to his father.

But she just looks a little confused, a little curious.

“I… I grabbed a coffee for you.” He awkwardly extends the drink, and she takes it after half a second’s hesitation.

“Thank you?”

Well, this is going spectacularly.

“Do you have a second? To talk?”

Her brows raise, curiosity shifting to something like worry, he thinks. It’s more concern than he’s gotten from either of his parents in a few years. She nods and gestures for him to follow her to the bench a few feet from the entrance.

“What’s up?”

Doug hasn’t given much thought to how to say this, only that he wants to say it. Wants someone to know him.

“There’s something I, um, want to tell you.” He sips his drink to steady his nerves. “Because you’re someone I can trust.”

He starts gathering the threads. How this started, when he knew, why he hasn’t told his parents.

Why he hasn’t told anyone.

Where he plans to go from here.

He knows the answers, but struggles to weave them into anything solid in his mind. He still has questions of his own, after all.

His sexuality isn’t something he can put into bullet points, no matter how much easier that’d make this conversation. So he sits, swaying on the edge of his truth, still afraid of becoming.

“Douglas? Are you okay?” Alma’s hand is on his arm, the lightest, warmest touch he can remember.

“I’m gay.”

The words fall out in a rush, and when he looks up, he’s met with soft eyes, a quiet smile. The hand squeezes his arm and pulls him in for a hug. His body, wiry and thin, sags against her small frame. A relieved laugh shakes through him.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” she mumbles into his shoulder. “I’m so happy for you, Doug.”

The smile might as well be plastered to his face for the rest of the day. He feels lighter. Just like all the nights he's gone over it alone, this isn’t exactly what he’d call comfortable, but having someone accept him instead of dismissing him... well, it means the world.

- - -

Weeks pass. Work becomes a sanctuary, and Douglas springs to life in ways he never believed possible. He joins in their conversations, shares more of himself.

He comes out.

He invites others in.

Alma and Tina invite him to come along to the Pride festival in the big city, and even if the car ride is filled with a fuzzy, nervous haze for him, Doug sings—no, screams along with them to their favorite songs until it’s time to pile out of the car and join the crowds taking to the streets.

He’s allowed to lose himself in the electric pulse of energy, the colors, the overwhelming love of it all.

There are still questions to ask.

There is still progress to make.

Douglas shines with all the vibrant trepidation of the sun at dawn, making himself known, slowly, slowly as he ascends into what was once darkness. But he is certain this is where he belongs. For the first time, he feels like he’s part of something like a family.

#azia writes #wayhavensummer #wsf challenge #douglas friedman #listen i just feel like dougie gets shit on in the source material #he's not actually in love with alma he just wants a family #anyway i humbly submit this for your consideration #i'm sorry it doesn't feature the core cast. i know we're here for the vamps but i love the side characters T^T

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runtedfiction · 3 years ago

Text

nicer

day 1: facade @zelinkweek2021

ao3

* * *

Years later, when Link faces the castle’s crumbling walls, he thinks about the Princess.

* * *

The day King Rhoam announces this year’s Harvest Festival is also the day his subjects know they're doomed. Officially, it’s supposed to be a normal holiday. Unofficially, the language in the announcement—“the last celebration before the fight against Calamity Ganon”, “the last time the palace will be open to Castletown until the fight is over”—convinces everyone that they’re partying in the face of the apocalypse.

“They have no faith in me,” Zelda says, putting down her pen. “Ganon is brewing deep beneath the castle. Everyone knows it. Everyone knows I can’t stop it. This is their last chance to let loose before all hell breaks loose.”

Impa frowns and hands her the final page of raw Guardian data to clean. “You're too hard on yourself. You still have time.”

“I just have Mount Lanayru next week.” She focuses on the Silent Princess above her desk. It's wilting. “Do you think I’ll be wise enough? Maybe Hylia will smite me right then and there for being an idiot.”

“Princess!”

“I know, I know.”

* * *

They wrap up that afternoon’s study, an incredibly useful session in quantifying the powers of the Guardians, to get ready for the ball.

Zelda’s dress is her signature blue, but a bit more fluid and feminine than the one she normally wears. Made for dancing and a summer night.

“Collarbones,” Impa notes, and Zelda laughs. “A little off the shoulder as well! And the subtle constellation pattern in the tulle--how stunning!”

“Don’t act as if you didn’t design it.”

“Guilty.”

Impa’s dress, an even deeper blue, is similarly gorgeous. It’s long sleeved, form fitting, and silky.

“Impa, I just want to say—” Zelda pauses, looking at their reflections in the mirror. When will they ever look this nice again? “Thank you for being my friend.”

Impa' smiles. “Of course. And Princess—if I may.”

“Yes?”

“With all your talk of the world ending, of doom coming.” Her voice gets small. “Do you think it would be worth telling him?”

Zelda stiffens. She thinks of him somewhere in the castle, dressed in his best uniform, walking to find her.

She lies. “No.”

Three quiet, efficient raps sound against her door. Zelda’s heart lurches.

* * *

In the hot, overcrowded ballroom, she can’t stop wondering if he thinks she looks pretty.

There are important people here she needs to talk to: researchers from the Royal Ancient Tech Lab, religious leaders, captains of industry, and so on. She finds her father and tries to reach some common ground on the one night they aren’t preparing for Evil Incarnate. (She fails.) She should find the court poet and give him the dance he’s been writing about for the past month.

But all she wants is for Link to look at her.

He’s indeed in his best uniform. His gloves and boots are blindingly white; his collar sits high and stiff against his neck. He’s uncommonly handsome, and the uniform emphasizes it. When someone pulls him in to dance (technically he should be keeping watch, but that someone really insists), she hates the jealousy that blooms in her chest and takes the hand of the poet. When she twirls, when she makes conversation, when she curtsies--she tries to see it all from Link’s perspective, if he can even find her in the crowd.

“Princess, are you feeling alright?”

“Oh.”

The poet looks at her in the way that a puppy looks at its master. The neediness satisfies and repulses her.

“Yes,” she says, smiling quickly. “Thank you for asking. How are you?”

“Wonderful. I was sitting in the courtyard the other day and...”

It’s easy to tune him out and appear to be interested with the right amount of “mhmm” and “oh?” and eye contact. But every time he twirls her around, she tries to spot the top of a Royal Guard cap in the crowd.

She knows she’s being stupid. Even in the incredibly unlikely scenario where Link’s interested, what could they do? Given that her powers aren’t working, there’s only a sixty percent chance they’ll get through the Calamity. She thinks back to what Impa said earlier. Something about letting him know in the face of impending doom.

(Maybe it doesn’t make sense to do something that would possibly be useless, a tiny voice in the back of her head says. But on the flip side, it’s also possible that nothing will matter soon, so why not tell him?)

She scowls and lets the poet dip her far too low for common courtesy.

* * *

Link is definitely lost in the crowd now. The next song requires that they rotate between multiple partners, and she can’t spot him anywhere. There’s no way that he’d be looking at her anyway, because why would he? He’s the chosen one, kind and strong and handsome and blessed. She’s the failed reincarnation, mean and headstrong and cursed.

If (when) the world ends, it’ll be on her.

Zelda admits to herself, swaying in the arms of someone else who doesn’t matter, that because the world has an uncomfortably high probability of ending, it follows that maybe, possibly, probably it makes sense for her to say something.

A sense of urgency unfurls in the pit of her stomach. Where is he?

* * *

She tries to find him. She doesn’t know what she’d do--ask for a dance? Strike up a conversation? Maybe it's the heat getting to her, but it worries her that she's lost him. She walks the length of the ballroom and comes up with nothing.

There’s no way she could summon him, but…

She grabs a glass of water and walks out the ballroom to the nearest balcony.

Except in this very specific circumstance, it’s infuriating how easy it is for him to find her. Even when she doesn't want to be found, even when she’s actively running away (and nearly dying in the process), there he is. The knowledge that he’s almost always aware of her presence burns.

“Hello,” she says after a respectable amount of time.

He steps out behind her. Unfortunately, the moonlight’s softness makes him look angelic. “Hi.”

Zelda very rarely has no plan. She’s the one always bossing him around, deciding where they’ll go next and how they’ll get there and what they’ll do. She’s at a loss for words right now.

“Ah--hm.” A cooling night breeze passes by. “Are you--are you enjoying the festival?”

“Yes?” He looks confused. And hot, her unhelpful brain adds. Very hot. “Are you?”

“Yes. It’s quite warm inside, but I enjoy the music and the dancing.”

“The band is nice.”

She agrees and scrambles to find another conversation topic. Damn it. Still no plan. Think, think.

“Uh--” he starts the same time she asks, “Are you ready for Mount Lanayru next week?”

He nods, and she hates how she made the conversation about work. But he looks more confident now--talking about work is easier than trying to have whatever kind of conversation she had in mind. “Yeah. I read about the region and it seems relatively safe. We might see Naydra too.”

“That would be incredible,” she says. “I’d love to capture it on the Slate.”

He nods again. A silence passes (a horribly awkward one that eats at her) before she asks: “What were you going to say before I interrupted you?”

“Oh yes.” Link clears his throat, and the fact that he looks a bit nervous sends her heart pounding. Can he tell what her subconscious is trying to do? “I’ve been meaning to ask (oh God, oh God, what has he been meaning to ask)--are you avoiding me?”

She blinks. “What?”

He won’t make eye contact with her. Triforce of courage, my ass. “Are you avoiding me?”

“No?” She’s stunned. Avoiding? All she’s been doing for the past week is pining!

“But, I feel like.” He pauses to look at her briefly. Again, his nerves kick off her own. “Ever since we got back from the desert, you haven’t really talked to me.”

She needs to think. A week ago, what happened?

They were at the Kara Kara Bazaar, and she nearly died because she intentionally (stupidly) lost him. She relives the feeling of it now--the panic that came with facing certain death when she realized it wasn’t Link following her, but the Yiga, then the shock when he appeared out of thin air wielding the sword. His back, so strong and sure. His concern as he helped her get up afterwards.

How once she could process what happened, something kicked in her chest, and everything was so obvious so suddenly.

Then getting back from the desert, what did she do? She wrote a diary entry, spent a sleepless night deciding she had feelings for him that she didn’t want to name, and tried as hard as possible to conceal them. The pining was unbearable, and--oh. Looking at him made her face burn, so she turned away. She never knew what to say around him, so she chose to say nothing at all.

Perhaps she approached her yearning by offsetting it with its opposite.

They really haven’t spoken. Zelda shakes her head, and mentally kicks herself. How can someone like you back if you don’t even talk to them? “I promise, I’m not trying to avoid you.”

He furrows his brow a little. Cute. Unfair. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Ok. If you do--if you ever need more space, let me know.” He smiles a little. “I do have to follow you, but I can do it farther away or something.”

She smiles back. Please always follow me. “Thanks. No need.”

“Alright,” he says. He glances at her arms.“Do you want to go back inside? It’s a bit cold. You’re getting goosebumps.”

She didn’t even notice. An idea is forming in her mind, bright and hot and something that needs to rush out right now or she’s going to overthink it to death.

“Going back inside sounds good. When we do, would you--would you like to dance with me?”

The question leaves so quickly that she’s not too sure if he understood it. She holds her breath; she might throw up.

“Sure,” he says, and the disappointment that she expected to punch her gut doesn’t come; a flood of something wonderful washes over her instead. Sure is yes, her mind sings. “How about I find you before the last song? I’ve been doing a bad job of keeping watch.”

“Sure,” she echoes. Hopefully her excitement isn’t too obvious when she turns back and nearly runs into the ballroom.

* * *

When the band announces the last song of the night, Zelda lets go of the poet and steps back immediately.

“My Princess,” he says, and the normal repulsion she would feel turns into joy when she spots a navy blue cap making its way through the crowd. “I would be honored to have your final dance, if you would have me.”

“Another time,” she says, already turning to pick up her skirt and mosey her way through the last group of people separating her from a flash of sandy blonde hair. “Thank you though!”

She doesn’t wait for the poet’s response because the crowd is gone and Link is right in front of her, handsome and smiling slightly. Her heart is at a million miles a minute when she drops her skirt and steps forward to place her hand in his.

This isn’t like her. He must think she’s acting so strange. Either that, or it’s obvious just from looking at her what she’s thinking. It’s a frenzied array of thoughts, ranging from the obvious (handsome, handsome, smells so good?, handsome, kind eyes) and the embarrassing (The smallest, least repressed part of me has dreamed about this all week.)

The music starts and swells and she’s still dreaming. His hand on her back is firm. Thanks to the design of the dress, she can feel his glove pressing into her. She wonders if he can feel the heat of her skin.

“How are you doing?” he asks when they fall into a rhythm, and she smiles too fast, idiot, calm down.

“Great, how are you?”

“Good,” he says, and they spin. He smiles back. “Good to know you’re not avoiding me.”

“Of course not.” Stupid, you avoided him!

He dips her a perfectly appropriate amount.

She feels brave. It’s the adrenaline getting to her, because the rational part of her can’t stop (giddily) telling her that she’s dumb when she asks, “Why would you think that I'd avoid you?”

“Hm.” He looks away to consider the question. The tips of his eyelashes catch the chandelier light. “I thought that maybe last week was a bit too much.”

She thinks about how warm his hand was when he helped her get up after saving her life. “It wasn’t.”

“It’s ok if it was.”

“No, no, you’re too kind.”

Link clears his throat. “So you’re not avoiding me because I kept trying to follow you through the bazaar when you clearly didn’t want me to?”

She laughs. “No, it’s also incredibly stupid that I tried to lose you. Besides, what would’ve happened if you hadn’t?”

Link clears his throat.

She chooses to change the subject by asking an easy “What did you make for dinner tonight?” in an attempt to soak up the final minutes she has in his arms. He starts talking about mushroom risotto, and she can’t stop smiling.

* * *

At the end of the night, when he escorts her to her room, it’s late enough that silence is acceptable.

She’s decided that she needs to do something, but she doesn’t know what. A hug would be different, but too strange. I like you is simple, but too plain. Thinking about you makes my heart soft is embarrassing. I know I’ve been an incorrigible bitch but now my walls are down and I like you is too honest.

She turns around when they reach her doors.

“Tonight was fun,” she says.

He smiles. Zelda knows romance books don’t lie when her heart jumps at the sight of it. “It was.”

This is the moment. She takes a deep breath as quietly as she can. She has that nauseous feeling again. If nothing matters, tell him. Everyone knows the apocalypse is coming.

“Hey, listen,” he says right when she opens her mouth. He pauses to look at her. If she thought he looked nervous earlier when he asked her if she was avoiding him, it’s nothing compared to now. He does a visible gulp, and—

“I think I have feelings for you.”

She blinks. What?

“And I understand if you don’t feel the same way,” he continues, tense and fast, looking right at her, “especially in light of everything going on right now. But I just had to put that out there.”

What?!

She closes her eyes--what is happening right now--and when she opens them he’s still there. This isn’t a dream.

Holy fuck. “Really?”

He nods. “Really.”

“Huh,” she says. He beat her to it. “Huh.”

“Huh?”

She laughs. He beat her to it, and now all she has to do is the easiest thing in the world.

“I think I have feelings for you too,” she says. It’s so dark now she can’t see the blue of his eyes, but she can imagine it easily.

He’s surprised. “Really?”

“Really. In fact, I was meaning to tell you just now.”

“Really?”

She laughs. “Really.”

She smiles and takes his hand. He stiffens at first, then relaxes as she threads her fingers through his.

“Oh, actually, here, let me—” He lets go. Disappointment hits her briefly before she sees that he’s taking off his glove. Some of his scars are alabaster in the moonlight. He has so many.

(She wants to kiss all of them.)

His hand is warm and rough and lovely when he slips it back into hers.

“This feels nicer,” he says, and his voice is almost shy.

There are a million things she wants to say--what are we going to do if I end the world, what are we going to do if you save the world, how long have you known for, Hylia is going to smite both of us for being fools--but she settles on squeezing his hand instead. He squeezes back.

“Yes,” she agrees. Very gently, she cups his cheek with her other hand and leans in. He’s closed his eyes already. “Much nicer.”

#zelink week 2021 #zelink #zelink fanfiction

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