#but he was having new experiences until his last moment on earth | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hannieehaee · 1 year ago

Text

NO SONG WITHOUT YOU

18+ / mdi

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

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

wc: 12.6k

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

masterlist

Jihoon was tired.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's up?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hold on. Rewind.

"Us? As in just us two?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"-Woozi-nim?"

Shit, had you been talking this whole time?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hyung .. You're too obvious."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Soonyoung, I swear to g-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"W-What?l"

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

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

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

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

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

"Come pick me up?"

"Huh?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you had no idea how glad he was too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You don't have to ..."

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

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

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

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

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

"You .. Why?"

"Why what?"

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

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

"Do you-"

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

And then his heart stopped beating.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"P-please ..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Baby, I-"

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

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

"W-wanna ..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hmm?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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c0mbatchameleon · 9 months ago

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@jegulus-microfic March 12, prompt: retire, words: 953

Aka optometrist reg au (part 1? maybe) loosely based off of this post

James is having trouble breathing.

The problem is, he can’t quite remember how to do it right now. His brain, rather impressively, emptied of all of its contents the moment the optometrist opened the door.

Right off the bat, the man had been straight to business; swift stride into the room, eyes glued to the clipboard in hand, a curt “hello” and introduction before he sat down and uncapped a pen with his goddamn teeth. James could only stare dumbly, mouth agape as he stumbled over half-sentient responses to the all routine eye exam questions (“See okay with your current prescription?” A black curl falling over the doctor’s otherwise perfectly framed face, cheekbones carved by the sea, like stones.

“Uh huh.”

“Taking any current medications?” Beautiful silver-blade eyes meeting his expectantly.

“Uh-�� James coughing and clearing his throat, “no. No medications.”)

Now, he's at least regained his ability to form sentences. But as James watches the doctor fiddling with machinery, silver rings glinting in harsh, sterile lighting, he is finding immense difficulty in breathing like a normal human being.

“So,” James begins, leaning to rest his elbow on the table and swelling his chest ever-so-slightly. He does his best to smooth out his voice as he speaks, going for casual with just a sprinkling of something sultry. “Dr. Black, did you say it was?” He may not be able to fully function but God help him if he can’t still flirt.

The doctor's eyes flick up for only a split second, but James counts it as a win. “That’s correct.” He maneuvers what looks like an avant-garde torture contraption towards where James is sitting. “Rest your chin on the platform.”

James does as he’s told, holding back from an absurd urge to respond with a Yes, sir. He's definitely not conjuring a medley of alternate scenarios in his head in which Dr. Black orders him around. “And what might your first name be?”

“It might be of no relevance to the matter at hand, Mr. Potter.”

“Call me James, please.”

Regulus sits on the other side of the torture-machine and begins turning dials. “You should see a red X on the right side, James,” he replies flatly. Still, the sound of his name on the man’s tongue is fucking intoxicating. It's echoing around his skull--James James James JamesJamesJames--he wants to hear it a million more times, every minute of every day until his last.

James usually hates these appointments. Hates the big machines he has to stick his face in, blowing air and shining bright lights in his eyes. Hates that stupid picture of the house that they make him look at a million times over while some old man who looks just about ready to retire asks “One or two?”

But Dr. Black is not some old man.

He’s new—James has been coming here for years and has certainly never been graced with the sight of this angel-fallen-to-earth before. He's young, too; despite the way he carries the poise of a man with years of experience under his belt, cool and confident and collected, there’s no way Dr. Black is old enough to be more than a couple years out of school. All sharp edges and smooth skin.

And god, his skin. It looks impossibly soft, stretched over slender hands and freckled cheeks, strong nose and cut jaw. As James runs his eyes hungrily over the landscapes of peach-pale skin--hills and valleys spanning the doctor's face and neck and fingers and knuckles--he considers how easy it would be to reach out and touch it, find out for himself if it's really as smooth as it looks.

“James,” Dr. Black's voice cuts sharp through his fantasy, one brow raised where he's clearly caught James drooling over him. “Please look into the eyepiece.”

It’s not like James can help it. He’s a bit entranced by the way the doctor maintains such a stoic expression, posture rigid and cold eyes unwavering, especially now. It’s all the beauty of a pointed blade, glittering in the sunlight, begging to draw blood.

But James doesn’t miss the light blush now in full bloom across the man’s cheeks. Silver-clad fingers have begun tapping a sporadic pattern on the table as storm cloud eyes sweep down and back up James' face, quick as a flash of lightning, and isn’t that just curious? Suddenly, James wants to know what it would take to get that stone-cold cast to crack.

He shoots back a sly grin. “Sure thing, nameless doctor.” He looks into the contraption. “Oh would you look at that. A red X.”

The doctor lets out a muted sigh. He fidgets some more with the dials and buttons on the other side of the machine as James watches the X shift in and out of focus. He breaks the silence only when it's stretched for just a moment too long. “My name is Regulus. There’s gonna be a bright flash now.”

Immediately, a blinding white light flashes directly into his eye, burning a goddamn hole into his field of vision. He swears he can see the inside of his pupil for a moment.

But James doesn't care. Once the shock subsides, he finds himself grinning ear-to-ear.

Now we're getting somewhere.

He looks back up from the eyepiece to where the doctor, Regulus, is still intently focused on the computer and equipment. Evading James' gaze. Cheeks still pink.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Regulus.”

#I can’t get them out of my head #so here’s a small little thing #didn’t even rlly finish the scene so might continue it some time #laughing at james trying to puff out his chest and strike a pose at this eye exam #james potter #regulus black #jegulus #starchaser #jegulus microfic #james potter x regulus black #jegulus fanfiction #jegulus fic #sunseeker #marauders #james x regulus #writing stuff and things #microfic tag

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dana-chan-the-control-brain · 6 months ago

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I know it's a silly little YouTube show for fun. And not everything will have a satisfying conclusion. Its meant to run forever afterall.

But I am immeasurably disappointed by how this arc is going.

Sun. STOP TELLING MOON WHAT HE IS SUPPOSED TO BE.

This is EXACTLY THE REASON we are in this Mess now.

Moon admitted since he talked to the old self he's losing touch with reality. He doesn't even know if Sun that just talked to him or if it was another hallucination.

He wouldn't even know if the real Solar walked in front of him if he'd be real or not.

How is the COMPUTER more helpful at handling Moon then his own brother?

Moon even said if no one wants Solar back, he will stop. But he will still kill Ruin, who is an active threat to the family. Sun still said no.

Moon talking about disappearing.... Either he'll go to another dimension and take the place of another Moon. Or he'll straight up just kill himself once Solar comes back with open arms to a happy family.

Sun ordering physical torture until Moon falls unconscious if he ever tries star power to escape. (When he could easily turn him off.)

ALL FOR THINGS THAT MOON MIGHT DO???

Yes. He will likely do them. But Moon so far has just said hurtful things and be in a psychotic break.

Look, this is how I see it. New Moon woke up. He was born. And told by everyone his whole life who he was meant to be. He felt he was responsible for everything and everybody. No one corrected Moon on this role. Moon experiences Grief and heartbreak for the first time because Solar was the only one who saw him as him.

He is then disowned by his family during a state of psychosis.... Teaching him that he's cursed and will never be loved or accepted by anyone ..

CONFIRMING his fears that he has felt subconsciously for a long time about not being good enough....

Moon is the youngest that was born into a broken family that he constantly had to fix from the moment he woke up. Which is why he feels like this now. Did he say hurtful things... Yes. But Sun even not letting him give up on getting Solar back and killing Ruin anyway.... He's not allowed to do either. Whatever Actions Moon takes. He'll be hated and unloved.

Sun and Earth are worried Moon will do things that he will regret or can't take back.

They're being huge hypocrites.

Sun disowning Moon he can never take back.

Even if they eventually make up. (Unless it becomes the Sun and co show)

When Moon snaps out of his psychosis... Moon might not remember, but he will always know.

He will always know the feeling that he was abandoned and unloved and his siblings never loved or understood him. Only the image of what they wanted him to be.

That's just something that can't be taken back.

Moon is being treated like Eclipse.

And I desperately want the real Solar (not a hallucination) to be the one to stand by Moon.

Moon isn't worse then Solar's Moon.

And Solar tried to help his Moon for YEARS before he had to kill him as a last resort.

Solar was the only one to see New Moon as he was. Not a preconceived notion of what he could be and guide him out of bad thoughts Moons tend to spiral into.

Now, with how quickly Sun and Earth abandoned Moon. Makes me wonder if they ever saw or loved him at all. The same Moon that made Earth her body and the same Moon who comforted Sun after his Bloodmoon hallucinations.

Earth and Sun aren't responsible for fixing Moon. But what was it that Solar said??

"Well, the most you can do for family going through a rough time is just be there."

So yeah. I hate how this is going.

#tsams #personal #vent #gonna black out and write fanfic again

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mydearestbeloved · 12 days ago

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Chapter 11 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW:

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

Jinwoo let out an appreciative whistle as the never-ending notifications of quest progress and constant experience points rewards flooded his vision. The system's endless stream of updates rang in his ears, but his attention was fixated on the spectacle before him.

He’d known you were powerful, but this—this was something else. Like clockwork, your butterflies danced alongside his shadow soldiers, each fulfilling its unique role with almost surgical precision.

It was mesmerizing to watch. If Jinwoo’s army was the raging storm that tore the battlefield asunder, then your butterflies were the fertile earth that absorbed the waste to nourished new blooms. Every time his shadows felled a demon, your butterflies were there, siphoning off the residual life force, sustaining the field magic you’d set up across the dungeon floor. The ground transformed with every passing wave, becoming a lush, glowing field of flowers that pulsed with mana, like an otherworldly garden born from the chaos of battle.

In tandem with your abilities, it was like a seamless, self-sustaining factory—a constant cycle of destruction and rejuvenation, each supporting the other, each kill feeding the next. Jinwoo couldn’t help but be impressed; it felt like he was witnessing a well-crafted symphony unfold with every movement.

It was a sight he’d come to appreciate.

You and Jinwoo had developed an unspoken rhythm; wherever his shadows charged, your butterflies followed, siphoning mana to sustain the field, themselves, you, and his shadows, keeping the battlefield under control while preserving Jinwoo’s strength.

But the illusion of control shattered all too suddenly.

---

It was his mistake, to have underestimated the Avaricious Vulcan.

The creature was more powerful than he’d initially gauged, and his shadow soldiers paid the price, struck down by one devastating blow. Jinwoo’s eyes narrowed, his blood simmering at the sight of his shadows being wiped out.

But it was when he caught sight of you— in the chaos, you, standing just a little too close, had acted on instinct. You threw up a defensive spell to protect the few remaining soldiers, to mitigate the damage, to keep Jinwoo’s forces intact.

Vulcan’s brutal attack collided with your barrier, the impact sending tremors through the ground. Jinwoo watched in horror as a crack appeared in the shield, and then another, until a final impact shattered the barrier.

The force sent you staggering back, stray fragment of energy slashing across you. Red splattered against the stone floor and you clutched your arm, keeping the line of crimson from further dripping down.

Jinwoo’s heart plummeted.

Just a scratch, you assured him softly, even as you kept your gaze ahead, even when you didn’t exactly see his clenched fists and the tense line of his jaw. You brushed off the trail of blood trickling down your forearm, yet Jinwoo could see the strain in your eyes, the tight line of your mouth, as you keep the new barrier up.

In that moment, it didn’t matter that the injury was small, or that you were more than capable of handling yourself. You were hurt.

You’re injured because of me.

The thought repeated in his mind like a mantra, each repetition stoking the fury burning inside him. His eyes blazed with a darkness that even the shadows shuddered under. He watched you, still standing firm, healing his soldiers and maintaining your field magic with a calm expression, as if this was nothing. As if you were used to being hurt like this.

But for Jinwoo, it was unacceptable.

The last shred of restraint Jinwoo had been holding onto snapped, a deadly calm settling over him. His gaze shifted to Vulcan, who stood in the center of the battlefield, roaring in triumph. Jinwoo’s face hardened, his body radiating a dark, formidable aura as shadows coiled around him.

The creature would pay, dearly.

---

Avaricious Vulcan had already been beaten into submission, yet Jinwoo showed no signs of stopping. His blades came down again and again, relentless, merciless, as if trying to erase its very existence from the world, cleaving through the demon's corpse even after it was already lifeless.

Blood sprayed in an arc, staining the cold stone floor as Jinwoo's strikes grew increasingly savage. Each strike sent flesh splattering, turning the ground into a mess of nauseating colored gore. The shadows that usually moved with his will hesitated, sensing their master's uncontrolled fury.

You stood a few paces away, watching, uneasiness tugged at your chest. This was not how it was supposed to go. You remembered this battle vividly, you remembered Jinwoo being decisive, efficient, and ruthless, but never needlessly cruel. The Avaricious Vulcan should have been slain and left behind, not desecrated into a mangled heap.

You knew Jinwoo was kind. Despite his often-intimidating presence, Jinwoo was the sort of person who protected others. But now, watching him hack away at the demon’s remains, all you could come up with in your mind was the minor wound you’d brushed off…

He’s doing this because of me, you realized, swallowing hard.

Seeing Jinwoo unravel like this, seeing him go so off the script, lost in a frenzy, was more than unsettling. You were temporarily an ally, an accomplice in his journey, nothing more. So why was he reacting like this?

It was then that your system’s voice rang in your mind, urgent, almost... panicked?

[Stop him.]

You blinked at the faint tremor you hadn’t heard before. The urgency in its tone sent a chill down your spine.

“On it,” you muttered under your breath, to reassure the system and willing yourself to push down the anxiety tightening in your chest. You had to calm him down—Jinwoo was losing himself in this rage. You could see the way his shoulders were heaving, how his breaths came in harsh, ragged gasps. The quiet kindness you had once admired in him was being swallowed whole by something darker, something feral.

Taking a steadying breath, you took a tentative step forward, cautiously.

Jinwoo was a storm incarnate, his eyes glowing as he prepared to swing his dagger again, his shadows writhing in sync with his fury. The smell of demon flesh and metal filled the air, and you could feel the oppressive weight of his mana suffocating everything around him.

The chaotic energy was crackling against your skin like static. For a moment, you hesitated, wondering if he’d even listen to you. But you couldn't afford to wait. You needed to reach him.

With gentle hands, you reached out, tugging lightly, gingery, on his blood-stained sleeve. The touch was so feather-light, but it was enough to break through the red haze clouding his mind.

“Jinwoo,” you called softly, your voice carrying an edge of calm and firmness that even surprised you. “That’s enough.”

He froze mid-slash, blades trembling in his grasp. For a heartbeat, he didn’t move, didn’t even seem to breathe, and then he slowly turned his head to look at you, his dark eyes still burning with the remnants of his rage.

There was nothing but the echo of his heavy breathing and the distant crackling of flames. His gaze was wild, unfocused, but as he looked into your eyes, the darkness began to recede. The tension in his shoulders slowly eased as if your voice was a balm to the fury that had consumed him.

You offered him a practiced smile, hoping it looked more convincing than you felt. Your <Act> sub-skill was working overtime, masking the unease that continued to gnaw at you.

“I’m fine,” you reassured, willing him to see reason, gesturing to your healed arm. The tear in your battle suit was the only evidence that you had been hurt at all. The skin beneath was smooth and unscarred. “See? All good. Don’t waste your energy here, alright?”

His gaze flickered from your face to your arm, then back again. There was a silence between you, heavy and tense, as if the air itself was holding its breath. Finally, Jinwoo’s grip on his blades loosened, and they dropped to his side with a dull thud.

Jinwoo didn’t speak, the storm in his eyes still simmering, but there was a hint of something else—something raw and conflicted.

You let go of his sleeve, stepping back to give him space to collect himself. For a moment, you feared he might return to the demon’s corpse and resume his onslaught, but instead, he looked down at his blood-soaked hands.

Slowly, as if coming to a decision, he extended his hand toward you. Hesitant, unsure whether you’d take his hand, fingers trembling ever so slightly.

The look in his eyes was different now—soft, almost vulnerable. It was a silent gesture—a truce, an apology. You could see the regret etched on his face; the weight of his anger now replaced with the realization that he had lost control.

Your heart ached at the sight. For all his strength and power, Jinwoo still carried a burden that you knew too well.

Without hesitation, you accepted his hand, not caring for the sticky feeling of blood as your fingers intertwined with his. The contact was warm, grounding, and Jinwoo held onto you as if to anchor himself. His grip was gentle but firm, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, a silent vow.

He wouldn’t let this happen again.

In response, your fingers curled around his in silent gratitude.

“Let’s keep moving,” you said quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “We’ve got a long way to go, and no time to waste.”

Jinwoo nodded and gave your hand a last gentle squeeze before he released it, his gaze never leaving yours. As he turned to lead the way, you fell in step beside him, your earlier concerns lingering but softened by his unspoken promise.

Your children followed, some fluttering closer to Jinwoo, dimming their shine as to not hurt his eyes.

As they let out a calming, warmth glow; you spotted, in the corner of your vision, the discreet, multiple eyes in Jinwoo’s shadow peering up at you, grateful.

The both of you might not know what place did you held in Jinwoo’s life yet—but that fragile thread woven between you was a thread that Jinwoo was slowly, cautiously starting to grasp onto.

---

After sorting through the spoils from Vulcan’s defeat, Jinwoo glanced up, only to be met with Igris, who proudly presented the severed heads of Vulcan’s guards as trophies. Jinwoo stifled a sigh at the sight, feeling a faint tug of exasperation. “Can you not do that?” he addressed Igris, raising a brow at his stoic knight’s enthusiasm. “Because of you… he’s doing the same thing.”

True enough, Iron came lumbering up behind Igris, dragging Vulcan’s massive head behind him. The demon’s face was barely recognizable, mangled from Jinwoo’s earlier rage-fueled onslaught. Iron looked ridiculously proud of his “contribution,” puffing out his chest in triumph. Jinwoo could only shake his head at the theatrics, a bead of sweat sliding down his temple.

Just then, his attention shifted as a soft fluttering sound filled the air. Your butterflies were drifting near Vulcan’s remains, their delicate wings glowing faintly against the shadows. Jinwoo watched as they circled around the demon’s head. He narrowed his eyes, noticing the strange way they lingered, hovering just slightly out of reach, almost... expectant.

He watched them, noting their curious, almost polite pauses as they waited. Jinwoo’s mouth tightened, torn between amusement and bewilderment. He had the strange sense that they were asking him for permission, patiently waiting for a signal.

"...Fine," he relented at last, sighing as he waved a hand in mock exasperation.

The butterflies immediately descended, settling over Vulcan’s corpse like a layer of shimmering dust, their wings pulsating as they siphoned mana from the remains. Jinwoo watched in fascination as they absorbed the lingering energy, revitalizing their own magic reserves. He felt the faint hum of mana in the air as his shadows shifted curiously, drawn to the scene.

In the corner of his eye, Jinwoo noticed Igris stepping forward. One of his hands held the severed head of a guard that he had defeated, and with a gentle bow, he extended it toward a that particular red butterfly that flitted nearby as usual. The butterfly hesitated, hovering in front of Igris’s faceplate, and Jinwoo swore it looked like it was offering a silent “thank you” before settling over the trophy, glowing faintly as it fed.

Not to be outdone, Iron let out a proud huff and adjusted the Vulcan head he was lugging, his chest puffing out further as he soaked in the attention from his fellow shadows. One of your larger butterflies, a shade dimmer than the others, alighted on Iron’s horned helmet, fluttering its wings in what could only be described as encouragement. Iron’s smug expression grew even more pronounced, especially with a few shadow knights clapping in admiration.

A small laugh escaped from you, breaking the silence. Jinwoo turned to find you smiling at the whole scene, a soft giggle escaping your lips. It was rare to see you so relaxed, especially after the earlier battle, and the sound was oddly calming to him.

“(Name),” he called out, catching your attention.

“Hm?” You looked up, meeting his gaze, curiosity evident in your eyes.

“Here.” Without another word, he reached into his inventory and pulled out the Orb of Avarice. Carefully, he placed the glowing artifact into your hands, the faint warmth of the orb seeping through to you even through the fabric of your gloves. Jinwoo frowned for a moment.

Since when did you wear gloves?

You took a moment to examine the orb, studying the dark glow within its surface. Your eyes narrowed thoughtfully as you assessed its properties. After a brief moment, you offered it back to him, a gentle smile on your face.

“Thank you, Jinwoo,” you said, voice soft yet grateful. “But it doesn’t suit me. It only amplifies mana, and I’d rather it goes to someone who can make better use of it.” You glanced meaningfully toward his shadow soldiers. “Why not save it for one of them?”

Jinwoo considered this for a moment, feeling a bit of pride at your practical assessment. You never took more than you needed, never looked for an advantage that wasn’t truly necessary. He nodded, pocketing the orb and silently promising himself he’d find the right time to use it.

---

By the time you reached the 75th floor, the both of you had developed an efficient rhythm, moving through the upper levels with growing ease. The Demon Castle had taken a toll on both of you, but as Jinwoo’s power increased, so did the strength and efficiency of your teamwork. You’d learned to adapt to each other’s movements, each anticipating the other’s next step.

Jinwoo’s strength was more than enough for the foes that crossed his path, but he found himself unconsciously tracking your position each time, instinctively aware of your well-being in this dark, hostile place.

The final battle on the 75th floor brought you both face to face with Metus, the dark wraith-like entity that guarded the floor whose presence was so thick with mana that the very air seemed to grow heavy. Jinwoo had dispatched him in a brutal yet efficient display of skill, his shadows once again proving their loyalty and strength.

As the dust settled, Jinwoo watched as your butterflies once again went to work, their wings pulsing gently as they drained the last traces of mana from the fallen essence. The soft hum of their feeding filled the quiet space, and you stood nearby, eyes flicking over him in quick, practiced motions to assess any injuries he might have sustained. He’d taken a few hits during the battle, but nothing too serious; nonetheless, you were ready to heal him at a moment’s notice, the warm glow of your magic hovering just beneath the surface.

Occasionally, you stole glances at him, watching as he meticulously scanned through the system notifications that blinked in front of him. He moved through the rewards like clockwork, tallying his gains with calm efficiency. The notification stream continued, and he skimmed past the first and second rewards without much reaction.

But then, he froze. His eyes lingered on the third reward, the one that brought a different sort of light to his expression.

The recipe for the Holy Water of Life.

You knew what it meant even before he spoke, and your heart stilled at the sight of his face. This was the very item from the story, the one that would allow him to heal his mother—the one that would, for the first time, give him hope for the family he’d fought so hard to protect. You felt a pang of empathy watching him, knowing that the path you had witnessed as a distant reader was now unfolding before you, raw and real. Jinwoo’s eyes softened, his usual steely resolve slipping just for a moment, replaced by the quiet determination of a son who’d finally found a way to save the one person he couldn’t protect.

A week and a half had passed since you had entered this dungeon, battling alongside Jinwoo floor by floor. And now, the journey through the Demon Castle was finally nearing its end.

Jinwoo let out a deep breath, the faintest glimmer of a smile flickering across his lips. You couldn’t help but mirror it, feeling the weight of the moment settle around you. It was time to go back. The dungeon had tested you both, challenging your skills, your endurance, and even your resolve, but you had prevailed together.

“Ready to leave?” you asked softly, your voice breaking the silence as you looked up at him.

Jinwoo nodded, his gaze steady and unwavering. He turned toward the exit, his shoulders set with renewed purpose. You followed close behind, the familiar flutter of your butterflies trailing the both of you like a silent entourage.

As you walked, Jinwoo’s gaze lingered on your hand discreetly.

---

The Hanging Gardens were quiet tonight, the dim light of the moon casting a soft glow through your room. Kneeling on the bed, you extended your hand, palm up, inviting the small, fluttering forms of your butterflies to rest upon it. They swirled around you in gentle arcs, their wings flickering with a faint, ethereal glow. You watched them with tired eyes, a slight smile tugging at your lips as they danced in the air.

But tonight, something was different.

A few of your butterflies wavered in their flight, their once vibrant colors dimming. They hovered unsteadily, as if the very air beneath their wings had turned to lead. You frowned, a pang of concern tightening in your chest, as some of them stumbled weakly onto your open palm. Dark, inky marks marred their delicate wings, like patches of night blotting out their usual brilliance.

You cooed softly to them, your voice a barely audible whisper in the stillness of your room. “There, there,” you murmured, a soothing warmth flowing through your tone. Your fingers delicately brushed over their damaged wings, and as you did, the dark marks slowly began to fade. Under your gentle touch, their light returned, and they flitted back into the air with renewed vigor, their fragile bodies regaining their usual sparkle.

Once you were certain that none remained in distress, you let out a slow breath and allowed yourself to relax. Collapsing back onto the bed, you sprawled across the soft sheets, the exhaustion from the recent battles catching up with you. With a soft sigh, you peeled off your gloves, revealing the truth you’d kept hidden beneath.

From the tips of your fingers to the middle of your forearms, your skin had darkened to an inky black, the border jagged and uneven, shaped almost like butterfly wings against the pallor of your natural complexion. You stared at the darkened flesh, tilting your hand slightly in the moonlight. It didn’t hurt, and there were no signs of any negative effects beyond the discoloration. Even now, some of your butterflies had landed on your blackened hands, their tiny feet delicate and unbothered, curious about the change but unharmed by it.

This transformation had started around the 50th floor of the Demon Castle. You had noticed it after a while of using the mana siphoned from demons and undead alike. Despite your initial preparations, the contaminated energy had still seeped into your own magic, staining you like ink spilled on parchment. The mark gradually spreading and deepening with each floor as you tapped into more of the inhabitants' mana. Yet, strangely, it never caused you any pain, nor did it hinder your abilities. In fact, it almost felt… natural.

Perhaps that was what frightened you the most.

Even now, as you inspected the mark in the dim light, you felt no unease—only a quiet fascination. There were no side effects that you could discern, and you weren’t afraid; instead, you felt almost… detached from it all. Absentmindedly, you ran your fingers along the darkened patterns, wondering what this meant, what price you might have unknowingly accepted by using the energy in the Demon Castle.

The serene calmness with which you viewed the darkening of your skin, the nonchalance with which you accepted this new change—it was almost as if a part of you had always been expecting this. You couldn’t bring yourself to be afraid. Not of the darkness creeping along your limbs, nor of the tainted mana you were willingly absorbing. No, if anything, you were afraid of how little you cared.

Your eyes drifted to the window, gazing out at the distant horizon. For a moment, your thoughts strayed to a certain direction—a lingering solemn place, one you vowed to protect even if this sanctuary of yours came crashing down. Perhaps after you rested, you should go see her again, just to put your mind at ease.

But that was for another time.

For now, you emptied your thoughts, closing your eyes to the world around you. Breathing deeply, the connection you maintained with your butterflies hummed at the edges of your consciousness, connecting to one of your children that you had dispatched to always watch over Jinwoo. It was there, with Jinwoo’s mother.

Through its eyes, you saw him sitting beside her hospital bed, his expression softened in a way you rarely witnessed.

Your butterfly perched delicately on Mrs. Sung’s cheek, its faint glow casting a gentle warmth across her face. In your mind’s eye, you watched as her pallor seemed to improve: her pale face relaxing, complexion brightening just slightly, her breathing soft and steady.

Jinwoo’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of emotion passing through them that you couldn’t quite read.

His eyes tracking its slow movements. His hand moved slowly, reaching out toward your butterfly as if it were a fragile, precious thing. It didn’t move away when he cupped it gently in his palm, his fingers stroking the edges of its wings. There was something almost reverent in his touch.

For a long moment, he stayed like that, silent, contemplative.

Your eyelids grew heavy, the faint connection between you and your butterfly starting to blur as sleep tugged at you.

Just before you drifted completely into slumber, you felt a phantom, fleeting warmth settle on your forehead—a sensation like the tender press of lips, a touch so feather-light, almost as if it had never happened at all.

In the darkness behind your closed eyes, you unconsciously clung to that feeling, letting it carry you into the depths of a dreamless sleep.

End Note:

Unfinished Draft of [25/10/2024] -

Originally one draft with chapter 10.

#solo leveling imagine #solo leveling #only i level up #solo leveling x reader #sung jin woo x reader #sung jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo #yandere sung jinwoo #solo leveling jinwoo #sung jin woo #jinwoo sung x reader #solo leveling fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #fem reader #x reader #reader insert

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eleancrvances · 1 year ago

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andrei bolkonsky is truly the most "dead since the beginning" character. in his last few days he reaches a very explicit state of undeathness ("they were not attending on him (he was no longer there, he had left them) but on what reminded them most closely of him—his body"), but really, is it the first time he has been like this? in his first chapter, when he walks into anna pavlovna's soiree, "it was evident that he not only knew everyone in the drawing room, but had found them to be so tiresome that it wearied him to look at or listen to them". he goes through the social motions but doesn't really feel them (except with pierre, who understands instinctively many things about him, like that their meeting before borodino is their last), and he's just like that before the end. the night before austerlitz he declares "death, wounds, the loss of family—i fear nothing", and it's close to the absence of terror and general feeling he feels after his last nightmare. he's assumed to have died at austerlitz by everyone and reappears at home with zero explanation. the same thing happens after borodino. during both the near-death experiences, he feels some sort of "awakening" ("death is an awakening"). he identifies himself in an old oak tree that appears to be dead until spring (love) draws some last signs of life from him. and literally the only thing that seems to keep him alive is his last-minute unwillingness to separate himself from love, which to tolstoy is life - "i cannot, i do not wish to die. i love life—i love this grass, this earth, this air". this man is a zombie. he returned from the metaphorical and literal (the battlefield) land of the dead not once but twice with terrible wounds, despite all his efforts he can never find a complete and lasting connection to liveliness but falls back again and again in his mechanical, detached way of moving through situations. even his connection to natasha, life and joy, is perceived to be doomed from the beginning by many. "ah, my friend, it has of late become hard for me to live. i see that i have begun to understand too much" he says to perhaps the only person he has always been honest with, pierre, before receiving his final wound. and when he does die it's impossible to tell. marya can't pinpoint the moment when he's gone physically, and as for his spirit, even little nikolai knows it was torn from him earlier. but it doesn't feel like a sudden and new thing. we've seen him in this state before, though perhaps not on this level. but really, it looks like his struggle to keep death out of the room has been going on throughout the entire novel, and he could never hold the door completely closed. we've never seen him completely alive. on a meta level too, because he is maybe the only main character tolstoy didn't base on anyone but created from scratch, with the specific intention to kill him. when did he die exactly? at borodino? at austerlitz, where tolstoy originally intended him to? when he had his nightmare? when he left natasha? when lise died? when his mother died? before we ever met him, it seems. he died in a dream.

#listen. we had pride and prejudice and zombies #WHERE is my war and peace and zombies?#war and peace #books #war and peace (& emails)#by me #andrei bolkonsky #andrey bolkonsky #w&p

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dogbites-puppylove · 8 months ago

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Hi! I’m new to your bling and was wondering How do you think Dick Grayson(Yandere) would react to his s/o being a dragon but they stay in there human form more than there dragon form because the form is too large for Blüdhaven? (If ya want to inspiration think of Drogon from Game of thrones. Black scales blood red horns and spinal plates. Red eyes. There flames are black and red?)

Dick Grayson w Dragon! Darling

TW: description of yandere mentalities and actions (obsession, possessive tendencies, stalking, etc)

Tags: Yandere! Dick Grayson x Dragon!reader

Dick Grayson is a man deprived - always craving and hungering for his darling in ways that melt his brain from his ears until they drip on the sidewalk below. He licks up your identity and devours it from your highest dreams to the blood beading your scraped knee during a spring of your childhood - everything you are is also Dick’s - just as everything he is is yours. Hiding anything from him is a task impossible perhaps even to the divine - he’s addicted to you, his high’s are your breath in his lungs and his lows are when you're just feet away. With this in mind - his darling being a dragon doesn’t so much as change his opinion then change his approach.

Dick is a man who is bound by the pleasure principle - his ultimate bliss is the idea of life and death in your arms - conjoined as if you entered this earth connected. Like Orpheus is never known without Eurydice - like the legend can never be told with only one of them - he needs this love to define him. He feels the need to writhe, the way he feels bugs under his skin that chatter into his bones - eating him hollow until you can fill it. Dragons by principle are tougher - they can take more, last longer, and bigger in every sense - and this is something Dick loathes and delights at.

He’s rougher with you - he knows you can take it - and he experiments more. What pleasure is best - what sounds can you make - how far can he push until he can see just a glimpse of what you are outside of flesh that mimics his own. It’s simply not an option to not know you inside and out - not when he rips himself open everyday to allow you inside - not when you have his organs clutched between your teeth. Don’t grow surprised when one day he comes home with a collar and a leash - but don’t be afraid he has one for himself too.

However - Dick is a selfish man, and while he loves his Darling so painfully his heart might beat his ribs raw - he can’t bear the idea of separating from you at his death. He grows far more obsessed with how to take you with him - oh but don’t be scared. It’ll be soft, sweet - like cyanide in apple seeds - he’ll coddle you through any pain. Just as he is rougher with you - he’s also more fatal. His hands begin to mimic dulled swords that sharpen themselves against your skin - he feels for soft spots and pulse points - and at night he whispers about joints graves with a devastating need. Your train ride to hell had been confirmed the moment he laid eyes on you - the moment Dick Grayson fell in love. Not even being a dragon will let you fly.

Dick Grayson is also delusional - just as strong as Nightwings ideals are. This means that Darling can physically do nothing that breaches the moral threshold of wrong - and if he must rewrite heavens law to have it ring true he shall. Dick not seeing Darlings full form is not an option - you own each other - you’ve vowed yourself to each other. Nothing must take a higher presence in your life than that, if you don’t want to move far enough to shift without casualty then death becomes far less of a problem. To put it in simple terms - Dick Grayson will consume every last part of you - should citizens and Gotham itself have to perish under your form it would be a shame - but of no consequence.

Though, the Darling should be warned to not get cocky - wings are just as beautiful on your back as they are mounted on the wall. He knows you’ll survive - and he has forever to beg for your forgiveness, so you can’t blame a starved man for taking a bite.

Author's Note: This is so out of my field and I'm so out of practice omg. I hope you enjoy it though.

#yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere batfam x reader #yandere dick grayson #dick grayson x reader

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geothewriter · 15 days ago

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Any Other Way - A post-war Zutara One Shot

Happy Birthday (slightly early) to my good friend @achillmango

I wrote ya a lil something because you're an awesome person and a great editor! I legitimately couldn't have made all of this progress on Vermillion Seas Cardinal Skies without you. So... here! I ran with an idea we talked about a while back.

Special shoutout to @demaparbat-hp for helping me edit this fun piece. You helped me add the polish to make this special. <3

And so with this, my first public action as your regent Fire Lord, I declare all aggression over. Our troops will withdraw home, now, to the Fire Archipelago, or to the colonies. On that topic, as I'm sure you're well aware, the colonies are a difficult subject to consider. The newly appointed peacetime council and I have already begun correspondence with King Kuei of the Earth Kingdom to begin ratifying a joint act we like to call the Harmony Restoration Movement. It is a long road, but together, we will travel it well. I'm sure many of you are wondering why an old war general is attempting to herald peace. Why would the Dragon of the West hope for less conflict? I am an old man, and I have seen the atrocity of war. Many across the seas will know me as something else, but I assure you, I am no longer that young man. If I must answer for my past crimes and ambition, so be it. Make that call, and I shall answer. If you call prior to the passage of the next seven years, a council of responsible individuals will head this fine nation. After those seven years have elapsed, my nephew, Prince Zuko, will take the throne as Fire Lord. Until such a moment arrives, he is to contribute to communities around the across all lands, gaining post-war-time political and worldly experience prior to– Zuko gently placed the article that formerly acted as packing paper on the table. His uncle sure could write a speech when he put his mind to it. Three years. He had three years left before his freedom came to an end. A long time, to be sure, but could he really prepare himself fully for the throne in only three years? A terse sigh escaped Zuko’s lips before he turned and pulled another mug from the box on the table. Unwrapping it with care, he placed the porcelain cup in its belonging place, up in the cupboard. Another delve into the box, and he withdrew a rather large plate. The protective paper fell to the side as he placed the tableware in another cupboard. He wondered, could it really be so simple? Would he really be able to settle down in a new location every few months for the next few years? It wasn’t like four years helped him fit in with the rest of the world. If he wasn't normal by now, then there was no way on earth three more years would do the trick. Zuko sighed. At least the nightmares had stopped midway through last summer. It was when she joined him. It was the promise, really. “If things don’t work out, and we’re both lost and aimless in the world, promise you’ll find me?” “Only if you promise the same.” They sealed the oath with a hug and parted ways after his Uncle’s coronation. A year passed with little contact. Zuko was too busy to think beyond the next day, and she was too busy rebuilding the south to write. She found him in Jang Hui, while he was supervising the removal of the vast quantity of rubble from the destroyed metal foundry located there. He was overburdened, having taken on both that and the difficult job of establishing a more robust local government, as well as setting up a makeshift hospital to get them back on their feet. He was more stressed than he could ever remember. He hadn't slept properly in days. Hadn't eaten, either. Then she happened.

Continue Reading on AO3.

#zutara #zuko x katara #zuko #katara #zutara fanfiction #geothewriter writes #postwar domestic fluff #happy birthday Mango!#flufffffffffff (with a little angst)#atla fanfic #book 4 au that is cosplaying as book 2 #Set 4 years after the end of the war

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emotionallyattachednerd · 1 year ago

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Unforeseen Reunion | TP Ratchet x Drift/Deadlock | NSFW 18+

Word count: 7000+ 😲

Warnings: Smut ( valve and plug interfacing ), mentions of violence, near death experiance and angst. NSFW 18+.

Notes: So yeah, I lost complete control of myself. Holy crap, I'm impressed with myself. I decided I wanted to go with Prime universe as that's what my hyperfixation went with. I didn't completely focus on canon just so everyone is aware. I had way too much fun with this and I'm so obsessed with these two. Enjoy this work of art you beautiful sinners. 🥰

The crash landing was the sign that his luck had run out. Deadlock had been travelling for far too long, isolated in his barely hanging on ship without contact, that's until he managed to receive a transmission from decepticons. He should've been pleased, yet he didn't feel it, just emptiness.

It wasn't until he hit the earth's atmosphere that his ship decided it had enough, power shut off and he came plummeting towards the earth. He tried gaining control but that failed so he tried contacting the decepticons requesting assistance, but even that was a deadend. No help was coming for him.

Bracing for impact he thought he might have a chance but the rough landing was much harsher than expected, throwing him around and a sharp piece of metal punctured through him, slicing his fuel tank and severed a fuel line. Terrific.

Deadlock manages to get himself out of his piece of scrap ship and take a few steps forward, only to collapse onto the ground with a pained grunt and look down at his servo that held his wounded area to see a lot of energon was leaking from him. He can't help but let out a vented chuckle, convinced this was going to be it for him.

Only managing to get a short distance away from the crash site he couldn't walk anymore and slid his back down against a tree, venting out heavily as if a pressure was lifted from him. He knew though, his systems were struggling, warnings flashing before his optics, it won't be long before he shuts down and slowly offline from bleeding out. One more time he tried making contact but got nothing in return. Either his com links weren't working or they didn't care about him.

There used to be someone in his life who was very dear to him. He saved his life after getting himself hooked up on circuit boosters, gave him a chance, and he stayed with him. He loved him with all his spark, then the war started and that's where it all went wrong.

Eventually he would make choices and every choice has a price. Whether it was worth it or not, Deadlock never wanted to answer that himself.

He was one of Megatron's favourites. He's the one who gave him his new name and grew from that back on cybertron. He thought he was making the right choice, but he was wrong, and he's had to live with that all this time. He became emotionless, making him willing to kill when needed or ordered, leaving a trail of horrors behind which was enough to make any autobot and decepticon worst nightmare.

Now, he was dying, alone. Just as he deserved.

Leaning himself against the tree all he could do was observe his surroundings, take in what might be his last memories. Everything grew weaker, more burned out as his fuel tank pumped harshly to get energon through him, only for it to leak out.

His audios managed to pick up some sounds of a ground bridge. Had they finally decided to show pity and come for him? He onlines his hazy optics only to be met with the end of a blaster and an autobot symbol.

"Oh just my luck." Deadlock manages to say between harsh vents. "An autobot gets to watch me die in my final moments....or, you can take the shot, put me out of my misery?"

"Is that what you want?" Arcee keeps her guard up and weapons ready, not wanting to give him any chance to attack if he was faking.

"Does it matter what I want?"

"No, it doesn't." Bulkhead comes up behind, forcing Deadlock to move his helm up to look at him.

"Well you're a big one." He casually smirks through his pain. "So, what's it going to be? What's the...autobot thing to do?"

Arcee and Bulkhead had been sent to investigate the crash sight after it made impact. They knew it was a decepticon shuttle but weren't sure if it was occupied. Upon arrival it's confirmed. Neither wanted to let their guard down just in case he had any tricks or if the decepticons might show up.

"What do you think?" Bulkhead asks Arcee, unsure what they should do. Letting him die without them helping didn't seem right, but he was a con.

"Let's call Optimus, see what he has to say." Arcee answers.

Deadlock heard the autobot leader's name causing him to let out another vented chuckle. "Your big boss is here? Huh. Alright, call him, see if he has mercy on a filthy con." He was just talking, it's all he can do for his final moments.

While Bulkhead makes the call Arcee keeps her optics on him with her blaster still drawn. "You got a name?"

The big ask. "If I told you...you're going to wish you pulled the trigger." He decided to not say his name. If she found out, she might just pull the trigger on him without hesitation, not that he cared.

"I don't recognize you. You're not someone I've bumped into before, and I remember every bot I have. So who are you?"

"How about you tell me your name first?" Deadlock manages to tilt his helm to the side as he meets her optics, letting out a smirk when all she gives is silence, his pearly white dentas and sharp fangs pressing over his bottom lips. "Yeah...that's what I thought."

Deadlock notices Arcee say something else but it all goes deaf to his audios. He's lost a lot of energon and he knows he's in trouble as things in him start slowly shutting down. He manages to activate his audios again and this is when he hears more voices and steps coming closer. If he was to survive, he wasn't even sure what he'd do next, not anymore.

A part of him did want to be offline. It'll end everything for good, and perhaps give him some peace of mind, not that he deserved it.

"Hey, you still with us?" Bulkhead taps the top of his helm to bring him back, causing him to let out a groan and online again.

"Sort of..." Is his only honest answer.

"Well, today is your lucky day con. Our medic is going to come and patch you up. Try to remember this moment that we helped you." Bulkhead adds firmly for him to think about.

"I'm jumping with joy." Deadlock chuckles dryly, a little energon drops from his mouth as he tastes it flooding in his intake. Yeah, he felt it was too late.

"Drift?"

That voice.

He manages to move his helm back up and his amber optics flickered as he meets the gaze of the ghostly familiar figure standing before the ground. Ratchet. His Ratchet.

"You know him?" Arcee was surprised to hear Ratchet say the decepticons name. But Ratchet couldn't answer, he was frozen, as if he was petrified or enthralled by the very sight of what he thought he lost those years ago.

Deadlock, his given decepticon name, lets out a softly dry laugh that lingers longer with a smile, disbelief and sadness overwhelming his struggling processor. He finally found him.

"Perhaps I am lucky." He says with his wide smile, sharp dentas glittering in under the sunlight. "It's good to see you Ratty."

Under Optimus' orders Ratchet came to patch up the new decepticon before sending him on their way. He was a medic, he treated the wounded, but treating a decepticon was different. He's done it before of course, but not often. Ratchet felt his servos shake as he stood there. Hearing the old pet name made his vents hitch a little and his own emotions boiling up, completely deaf to Arcee as she questions him.

It's not until Deadlock slumps against the tree that Ratchet finally acted. Hurrying forward he came to his side and started to work on him. His wounds were bad, he knew this already just simply looking at him from afar.

"How do you know him?" Arcee repeats coming to the medics side.

"Later." Ratchet's focus was on him. "Let me work."

Neither Bulkhead or Arcee have ever seen Ratchet like this before. Sure, they've seen him sad, angry, annoyed, happy, but this is different.

When he feels his servos against his frame Deadlock lets out a shutter, both relief and pain. He tilts his helm up to get a better look at Ratchet and manages to hold a soft smile that feels foreign to him, he hasn't smiled like that in a very long time. There was a deep history there, and the two went through a lot together, right before he hurt his Ratty. He didn't deserve to be saved, or given a chance. Damage was done.

"Saving your life, again." Ratchet mutters mostly to himself, his own emotions rattled. "Reckless. Stupid. All this time and you're online, still. I'm out of my mind. I should hate you, no, I do hate you, but my spark is aching for you." His voice is low as if he's whispering to himself but Deadlock hears it. "Why did you....How could you...." His words break apart and that hits Deadlock hard.

"I'm sorry." Is all he can whisper, touching Ratchet's working servo and gaining his attention. "I'm sorry....I'm so sorry." Apologising won't fix the past or his choices, but it's the first time he's ever said it to him.

As much as Ratchet is hurting he knew he couldn't lose him again. Whatever happens next will be whether it was too late or not.

"Kids, stay back." Bulkhead hurries through the ground bridge first and warns the kids all hanging around the raised platform along with Agent Fowler and June.

"What's going on?" Raf asks curiously, noticing his worried expression.

"Optimus, he won't listen. Can you talk to him? This is crazy!" Arcee is next feeling enraged about Ratchet's decision.

Ratchet comes through next, carrying a badly wounded Deadlock in his arms with strength no one else had seen him with for a long time.

"You brought a Decepticon back here?" June raises her hand over Raf and makes sure the kids stay behind her. "Ratchet the kids are here!"

"Don't like it, find the door." Ratchet barks back, taking many of them off guard. He ignores everyone and places him on the medical berth, quickly gathering tools to start stabilising him.

Deadlock was hanging close over the edge, everything in him hurt and his processor was swimming wildly. He had no idea where he was, only that Ratchet was with him, and that's all that mattered.

"So cool." Miko comes closer to get a better view. Jack tries to stop her.

"Miko-"

"No way I want to watch!"

Optimus comes closer but stays out of Ratchet's way and stares at the decepticon brought in, his optics widening a little as if something clicked in his processor, and Arcee notices this.

"You know him too. Ratchet called him Drift. Who is that?"

Optimus is quiet before looking at his comrades. "Ratchet knows him. Let him work."

"But-"

"Please, Arcee." Optimus knew just how sensitive this would be for his old friend, and can't imagine but he must be feeling right now.

Arcee finally backs off but that doesn't mean she was alright with this. Most of everyone wasn't. Miko sits on the edge of the lower platform as she watches Ratchet do his magic on the decepticon, a fascination. June only manages to keep Jack and Raf away, still not liking that a decepticon was near the kids base.

"Prime, is this safe?" Agent Fowler questions him quietly. "I get that he's a friend of Ratchet's, but that doesn't change he's a decepticon."

"I understand your concern. But please, I'm asking you all to let Ratchet handle this." Optimus didn't want to explain everything in that moment, respecting Ratchet and hoping everyone will follow the same.

Deadlock was in and out of it for a bit, gold optics flashing repeatedly as Ratchet tried to stop the bleeding and keep him stable. Everything hurt through him, but not as bad as the ache in his spark that throbs with grief for his Ratty. He was saving his life yet again, trying to at least.

"Are you still with me?" Ratchet's tone is more gentle as he hovers over him once he manages to stop the bleeding.

"Ah huh..." He manages to say between heavy vents.

"I need to repair the damage and get energon running through you again. Try to keep still, you're at the start of a long road recovery."

Before he could say anything else, Ratchet had gone to get a few things. Deadlock tilts his helm a little to the side and through his flickering vision he spots something, or someone. The pink is what catches his attention first and gives himself a moment to adjust his vision before it clears up almost.

"Well, you're tiny." He manages to say softly through a short chuckle.

"I might be small, but I can rip your spark out." Miko doesn't hold back.

"I better...stay on your good side than. What are you?"

"What am I? I'm human. The names Miko. You've never seen a human before?"

"Nah, you're the first, Miko."

"What are your first impressions?"

"Well...you did threaten to rip my spark out...so I'm fearful of you." He only meant it as a joke and Miko knew this, and she gave a small smirk at him. She didn't like cons, but this one seems different.

Even Ratchet didn't seem bothered about his interaction with her. June slowly comes closer, Jack and Raf right behind her, still being careful.

"You're Drift, right?" Miko leans her chin against the railing feeling a bit more comfortable to stay.

"Yes." It's Ratchet that answers quickly before Deadlock could. He understood. Meeting his gaze there was that firm and serious blaze he knew all too well from his Ratty. It meant there was going to be no further mention about it.

"Yeah...I'm Drift." Saying the name again after so long felt weird, but guess he'll adjust to it again.

Suddenly, he jolts and groans in pain through clenched dentas as Ratchet wields something into place. It hurts a lot, but at least it doesn’t last too long.

"Could you give me a warning next time?" He vents once it stops.

"Nope." Ratchet answers simply.

He understands.

"How do you two know each other?" It's Raf that bravely asks, mainly both of them.

"We...go way back." Drift answers, optics shifting at the medic at his side. "Ain't that right Ratty?"

"Hm." Ratchet doesn't answer much after hearing his old nickname.

"Ratty?" Miko can't help but smirk at the medic.

"Only he is allowed to call me that." He tells her. No one else ever did.

"He hates it, but I get away with it." Drift smirks lightly before wincing again. "Frag..." Optics manage to cast over at the other autobots standing together outside the bay and staring, most of them looking not too happy causing him to vent out. "Stop."

Ratchet does but only because he's confused. "What?"

"Just...stop. Just...you shouldn't be helping, you know?"

"Do you want to be offline?" Ratchet hits his tool against the table causing the humans the jump and gives an intense stare at Drift. "Do you just want to give up?"

"Your friends don't want to waste resources on a filthy con...I don't deserve it. You...you shouldn't be helping me."

"Well, too bad. You don't get to have a say in what I do, we're well past that. Perhaps you're right about not deserving to be saved, but the only one that gets to decide your fate is me." Ratchet leans closer to Drift, optics burning, before he erupts. "The only way you will be offline is if I allow it, because I'm the only one who has every right to let you bleed out right now! You don't get to decide your fate! I do! Is that understood?!"

His outburst is heard by everyone. Even the humans shrink away a little, never seeing Ratchet this angry before. Something deep was there, but no one knew just how deep.

Drift doesn't flinch. He takes it, accepts Ratchet's rage. He's right, only he has the right to decide what happens next. All he can do is let him do what he wants, he is no longer in control of his fate.

"Understood."

Ratchet lets out a heavy vent and goes back to work on him, only to look up when he feels everyone staring. "What?" He snaps, bothered that everyone was just staring.

"Everyone, let's give them space." Optimus finally says. "Ratchet has work to do." He'll give that privacy to his old friend without distractions.

June leads the kids away and Miko follows to let Ratchet work. Only Optimus understands what Ratchet must be feeling, he knew what Drift meant to him, and knew just what they've both dealt with over the years. The others all had raising questions but at least they weren't hammering either him or Ratchet with them to get answers, and respected what Optimus had said.

It is a long recovery for Drift. Weeks go by, but he is doing better. Ratchet worked hard to repair the damage he received from the crash and make sure his fuel lines were pumping correctly. He worked his magic and did a good job on Drift, never giving up.

"Alright, follow my digit." Ratchet was doing simple tests, everyday he did them, and Drift obeys as his optics follow the moving digit in front of him, clearing and without struggle. "Good. Better today."

Drift was feeling better, both physically and mentally. After being by himself so long it was going to take time adjusting to have others around.

Not the autobots, mainly the humans kept him company. Drift was curious about these organics. Sure, he's come across them before, but not humans. He doesn't mind them.

"Does this mean I'm off bed rest?" Drift asks as he straightens his back. Ratchet shakes his helm with a short chuckle.

"Yeah right. You're clear when I say you're clear. Just because you look and feel better doesn't mean you're fit for duty."

"Duty?

Ratchet stops and looks at him, optics unreadable before venting softly. "You're staying, right?"

It hasn't been something they've talked about really. Drift had no idea what to do next honestly. Since finding Ratchet he didn't want to leave him behind, not again.

"You're here, so I'll stay. Don't think your friends are going to like that though." He didn't think they would welcome him into team prime. "Does that mean I've got to become an autobot?"

"Don't worry about them, I'll handle it. They don't know your decepticon name, yet. I don't want to hear that name ever again. And yes, you'll become an autobot, because I said so."

Drift understands. "Alright." He was willing to do whatever Ratchet wanted. All he wanted was to have him back in his life again, to not throw away his second chance.

"Good. Now, let's have a closer look."

Drift feels Ratchet's servos touch both sides of his cheek platings, examining him further and making sure he didn't miss anything. But Drift slowly leans into the touch, purring, and reaches up to touch them both under his own. The action gets Ratchet's attention and they both stare at one another, the fondness slowly growing as the medic's optics soften.

Ratchet does like the purrs Drift makes, he always did, and hearing it again makes his knees feel weak. Such a strange effect it gives, yet so addictive. It's been so long since he last heard them, causing his feelings to stir wildly. As much as he hated him for his choices, he never stopped loving him.

Neither did Drift. He has a lot of regrets, but the one he'll always carry is he hurt Ratchet. He'll always carry the weight of that.

Leaning closer, Drift presses the front of their helms together, savouring the moment for as long as he can as his optics shutter closed. Ratchet doesn't lean away and lets it happen.

Drift wants to kiss him, and he tries to do this by leaning closer towards his lips, but Ratchet stops him. The moment is gone.

"It's too soon." Ratchet can only whisper, trying to keep his emotions from pouring out. "You left a deep wound, one I could never repair."

Drift knew he deserved that.

"Your injuries aren't the only recovery you'll be going through. There's a lot....between us, that needs time to heal. Won't be simple, but I need time to adjust to this, to trust you again."

"So there's a chance?" Drift held onto that hope.

Ratchet vents softly and caresses his servo against his cheek plating again, running his digit under his optics gently. "I hope so."

That's all Drift needs. "Take your time then."

Optimus gathered everything, even the humans, so they can all listen to what Ratchet has to say. Drift was resting and took this moment to explain some details to his friends. They've all been very patient.

"How's he doing?" It's June that asks, the only one who was kind enough to ask about Drift.

"Doing better. Still recovering, but he's making good progress." Ratchet answers.

He looks up at everyone who stares at him, all focus and attention. His optics glance over at Optimus who was there for him through this. It's time to reveal it.

"Drift and I have a long history, all the way to the time before the war started on cybertron. He hasn't made the best choices in his life, which is why things are messy between us, but he wants to change, make better choices. I'm willing to give him that second chance."

"I understand your concerns." Optimus then jumps in and speaks to everyone. "We both do, but I trust Ratchet to take charge of him, and I believe there's hope for Drift, to become better."

"So he's becoming an autobot?" Jack asked curiously.

"He will. It's a lot to ask but it would be a great help if everyone treated him fairly, so he can settle into this life. He's been alone for a long time without contact, it has affected him, but with time he'll adjust and do better." Ratchet explains.

"Is he like your best friend?" Raf asks innocently.

The medic gives himself a moment before finally saying it. "Drift is my conjunx endura."

"What?' Arcee quirks quickly in surprise.

"You never said you had one!" Bulkhead is just as surprised while Bumblebee lets out a bunch of whirls and beeps along with them.

"Ah, sorry, humans are confused here." Agent Fowler raises his hand. "What's a...conjunx endura?"

"Well, for humans to understand, we're married." Ratchet clarifies.

"What?!"

Ratchet knew this was going to be a shock to everyone, and he'll silently admit he was trying to avoid this moment, but knew that wasn't going to last forever. They had a right to know what Drift meant to him, and what happened.

"Drift comes from a troubled life. He got himself addicted to circuit boosters, drugs for humans to understand, lost himself, and Optimus found him, or at the time he was Orion. He brought him to me where I had my own medical centre, doing what I could for those who were considered lower classes. I saved his life there, and I saw just how lost he looked, so I gave him a choice to stay and help me out, or he could leave. He got clean and stayed, few of the smart choices he's ever made. Over time we grew fond of one another and...well, we ended up together for a long while, fell in love, things were good and we were happy." Ratchet remembers those fond memories with him before he close his optics.

"Than the war started. Megatron approached me, offered me a position as his head medic officer, but I declined. I thought that was it, but I was very wrong. Megatron got to Drift, manipulated his mind, gave him false hope, and he fell for it. The next time I saw him he wore the Decepticon badge. He was already convinced I was going to join him, but I refused. I got angry, expressed my disappointment loudly. The Drift I grew to love left that day and he became stone cold. Megatron gave him the order to destroy the medical centre and he did it, leaving me in ruins. Megatron gives him a new name..." Ratchet went quiet. He couldn't say it, and looks at Optimus, who understands

"Deadlock."

The name rings through the autobots. They all knew that name all too well. The horrors they've heard, the carnage left behind by the same bot that was now in their base.

The humans all take notice of their reactions. "You've heard of that name?"

"The very name that a lot feared." Arcee says to them, voice full of dread. "I never bumped into him, only heard what he had done, and it's nothing good."

"Drift is Deadlock? The very con that Megatron favoured?" Bulkhead struggled to process this.

"Why did Megatron favour him?" Jack sounds worried.

"Because of his lack of emotion, no empathy, and did as he was told without hesitation." Ratchet adds through a shaky vent. "But...he's coming back around, the Drift I know. After what happened, I joined Optimus to try to do what I could for the autobots, all the while trying to silently mend the damage done to my spark. As much as I hated Drift, I never stopped loving him, and always held on some hope he might come back."

"And he did." June says softly, moved by the story he told everyone to have a better understanding of what just happened. Though they were concerned about his past with the decepticons, they understood what Ratchet must be feeling to get his lover back again after so long.

Ratchet lets out a shaky vent and looks at everyone. "I'm willing to forgive for his mistakes, because that's my choice. I need to ask you all to respect our privacy, our past, and for there to be no further questions about Drift's time with the decepticons. Please, don't shut him out, give him a chance, get to know him. He might not be the smartest, and he's made terrible choices, but there is good in him."

"I don't like cons, but he seems...different." Miko perks up, looking over at Bulkhead. "I've gotten to know him a little, he's not so bad. Just have to ignore that history part with the cons."

Bulkhead groaned in displeasement but knew there wasn't really going to be any other way around this. Drift was going to become one of them, so they might as well start opening up to him.

"We'll do that." Arcee then says through a soft vent. "For you Ratchet, we'll give him a chance."

Ratchet feels himself relax a little hearing this. He had a pretty good team here. "Thank you."

Drift is up and walking. He then finds himself facing the autobots and humans, all looking at him as Optimus and Ratchet approach. Least they didn't have weapons drawn on him, it's a start.

Optimus is first to speak. "Drift, we've all talked to one another and Ratchet has informed the others about your bondage with him. It is Ratchet's wish to give you a second chance, for you to leave behind your past with the decepticons and to become one of our own. I ask for you to have zero connections with any decepticon and to prove yourself among our team here."

Drift looks at Ratchet who gives a simple nod at him. This was his chance to fix what he tore apart between them, to show he could be something better. He wanted that.

"Thanks, Optimus. I'll do whatever Ratty says, I don't want to let him down again, or anyone for that matter."

"Ratty?" June can't help but repeat through a small smile.

"None of you are allowed to call me that." Ratchet points at everyone with a firm glare.

"Only I can." Drift sends him a smirk knowing he was right about that.

"I'm going to lay down a few things as well." Ratchet starts as he steps closer towards him. "You'll follow our rules, our ways, no arguments or whining about it. You'll treat everyone here with respect and you'll be treated the same in return. Everything is going to be stripped, your model, colours, nothing that will give any decepticon a hint who you used to be, a complete new look. Understood?"

Drift listens and doesn't hesitate to nod. Like he said, whatever his Ratty wanted. He was in his control now. "Sure, alright." He gives a smile, sharp denta's lightly exposed.

Ratchet stares before pointing. "I'm removing those modified dentas." Drift's smile slips and goes to say something but Ratchet raises his servo. "Nope! They're going. They look ridiculous on you."

Drift vents heavily. Complete new look. "Alright...whatever you want."

"Wow, who are you and what have you done with Drift?" Miko asks the completely new looking robot sitting in the medical bay. She had just arrived with the others. It seemed Ratchet was very serious.

Drift sends the girl a soft smirk, sharp dentas now back to their default model along with most of his amour, colours neutral grey, ready for a new scan and colour.

"Ratchet wasn't kidding." He answers through a gentle chuckle. "But hey, I think it will be good to have something different."

"Something calm." Ratchet points out as he sets up some programs for Drift to scan and choose from. "Soft, nice, you know? Nothing dramatic."

"Ugh, such a control freak." Miko comes up onto the ramp along with the others.

Drift can't help but snicker. He liked humans. They were different, had a lot of character, he grew to like them very quickly in his short time there.

"What colour, Ratty?" Drift asks as he looks through some models.

"That's for you to decide."

"I want what you want."

"I want you to pick yourself. I'm sure you can't mess up on that." Ratchet doesn't mean for that to sound harsh, but it did. Drift shifts his amber optics at him, looking like a wounded feline, and Ratchet vents softly, lowering his voice. "I didn't mean-"

"It's fine." Drift doesn't want him to apologise, so he forces a smile. "I'll pick myself." He says trying to sound positive.

Ratchet nods and leaves him to it.

"Ouch." Miko whispers while hanging over the railing.

"Are things alright between you two?" The youngest Raf asks kindly.

"It's not simple, but it's progress." Drift answers honestly.

For a moment he scans through the new designs before looking up at Ratchet talking with Optimus. His optics scan over him and he smiles. He's picked a colour. Adding the program he scans the new look, his armour shifting colour and shape right in front of the kids to watch, astonished by the change happening before it finishes.

Drift looks at his reflection and smiles more. He looks good, very good. He now holds a very similar colour matching with Ratchet.

"It's a good look." Jack praises.

"You and Ratchet got matching colours now. That's cute." Miko beams.

Drift shifts his optics at Ratchet who is looking at him now, a lingering enchantment holds in his optics as he stares at Drift. They both do indeed share the same colours, a similar design, with Drift only being more slender framed.

"It is cute." Drift sends Ratchet a wink.

Ratchet has to try to cool himself when he sees Drift. He wouldn't say it, but he feels himself heat up at the sight of his long lost mate looking like that. He likes the new look. Clearing his vocals, he nods simply. "Very nice."

Drift doesn't miss the pink hue at his white cheek plating.

Laying on his berth in his given room Drift finds himself staring at the ceiling and letting his processor run over everything that's happened. He was now an autobot, one of team prime. His servo runs over the new symbol over his chest and lets out a soft vent.

It's not that he was disgusted by it, but it does feel foreign still. All this was going to take time to adjust, to move on from his troubled past and do better for him and for Ratchet.

All that time ago, when he hurt him, he lost himself. He became something dark, horrible, one of Megatron's favourites because he did anything he was told. All those memories will forever haunt him, but he hopes he can move past all that and start over with Ratchet. It's all he wants.

The sudden knock at his door jolts him out of his thoughts and goes to open it. He stares at Ratchet who stands on the other side.

"Did I wake you?" Ratchet asks through a soft tone.

"No, recharge is...it's not easy these days." Drift admits.

Ratchet nods lightly. "Can I come in?"

Drift feels his spark thump rapidly as he nods, allowing him to enter and closing the door behind. He watches as Ratchet turns to face him, and there's that struggling look he held, when he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

Drift comes closer, calmly stepping in front of him and trying to look into his optics. He can feel the heat radiating from his charris that he wants to touch, but holds back.

"I wanted to see you." Ratchet manages to say. "I...I just want to be with you." Hearing this makes Drift smile, only for it to slip away hearing his next words. "But I'm scared you're going to hurt me again."

"I know." Drift knows he hurt him badly, he'll never forget that. "And...I'm scared you're never going to stop hating me."

"I don't hate you. I'm just trying to trust you again."

"What can I do?" Drift doesn't know himself. "Tell me what to do."

"No." Ratchet shakes his helm, face hardening. "I want you to decide for yourself, not what I or anyone else tells you." On his own free will, not in control.

Drift gets it now. So, he does that. He touches his face plating, running his digits across and savouring the warm feeling, before closing the distance and kissing him gently.

The kiss is simple and short, but it's what Drift wants, what Ratchet wants. It's broken for just a mere moment before Drift dives in again, slowly deepening it as he slides his servos across Ratchet's shoulders and running behind his neck. Without holding back anymore ratchet consumes the kiss they share and backs him back against the berth, leaning over and pressing himself between his thighs as their lingering heated moans fill the room.

"I've missed you." Ratchet manages to whisper between kisses. "Primus...I've missed you so much."

"I'm here, I'm right here, and I'm never leaving you." Drift says before he retracts his panel, revealing his already soaking valve and the housing opens for his spike to throb out. "Please, Ratty, I need you inside me."

Climbing up over him, Ratchet retracts his panel and his throbbing spike emerges from its housing. He rubs himself against Drift, sliding between the lips of his valve, catching his sensitive node with each thrust. Drift throws his helm back against the berth and wraps his legs tightly around his waist, tugging him close and eager to get him inside.

Finally, Ratchet sinks in, groaning lowly as his spike fills Drift, feeling every ridge running against his inner walls, all the while Drift arches his back as he's filled so perfectly, mouth open as he mewls lowly. He missed this, he missed Ratchet.

Ratchet holds himself up as best he could over Drift before he sets a pace, thrusting his hips against Drift while grunting and venting heavily.

"Ratty, so good, so fragging good!" Drift chants as he holds onto him, clenching his valve around his thickness while running his servos along Ratchet's arms.

However, Ratchet makes a blunt noise, as if he's trying something but is struggling, right before he stops moving and lets out an annoyed heavy vent.

"What's wrong?" Drift vents densely as he feels Ratchet's hesitation and tries to avoid his lingering stare, removing himself from his valve as he backs up. "Hey, hey, Ratty, talk to me. D-did I do something wrong?" He touches his face plating and watches as Ratchet's optics shutter closes and leans into his touch.

"No, no, you did nothing wrong. It's me."

"What do you mean?" Drift shifts closer, placing his other servo over his shoulder and listening to whatever he might want to say.

"It's embarrassing." Ratchet rolls his helm a little. Though he knew Drift wasn't going to let this slide, the concern hanging over his face causing him to vent once more. "I'm old. My stamina isn't what it use to be."

Realization hits Drift. So that's it. He can't hold back a smile.

"Don't you dare laugh." Ratchet warns but this only causes Drift to giggle lightly. "It's not funny."

"I'm not laughing." Drift only fails as he continues to giggle.

"Stop that, you're still laughing."

"I'm not, I'm not." Drift forces himself to calm down and bit back his smile before caressing his face. "Ratty, it's alright. Don't worry about it." Leaning close he kisses him gently. "How about you let me on top? Let me take care of you."

Drift gently pushes Ratchet onto the berth and has him lay down before straddling his lap, thighs trapping against his waist while his exposed valve rubs along Ratchet's throbbing spike, causing soft moans to leave from both of them. Drift hovers closer towards Ratchet's face with a tender smile.

"You always took care of me, now it's my turn to take care of you." Leaning closer, Drift kisses him, letting it linger before gently pushing his glossa inside, coiling with Ratchet's.

Positioning himself he sinks back down onto Ratchet's thick spike and starts to ride him, rolling his hips slowly, rocking himself and riding his spike slowly.

Ratchet moves his servos to his waist, gripping his digits into his soft armour while keeping the kiss deep between them, letting out short moans and feeling more comfortable like this.

Drift vents softly into the kiss, letting out short muffled moans as he sucks at Ratchet's glossa, clenching in sync with his movements as he rides him. He moves his servo between them and he starts to stroke himself, rubbing his tip gently before pumping his servo over, arousal and pleasure quickly boiling between them.

"Drift...Primus....you're so tight." Ratchet gently praises between heated moans against his lips.

"Ratty, oh Ratty! I feel so full, filling me so good." Drift presses his forehead against Ratchet's, keeping close while riding his thick spike buried deep in his valve, rubbing against his ceiling node while Ratchet takes over to stroke Drift's cable then.

Moments like these were dreamed between the two over their time apart from each other. So much war, hate, and now reunited, lost in the moment as if nothing happened.

Drift holds a firmer grip, throwing his weight down over again more firmly, clenching around the perfectly ridged spike throbbing in his valve and rubbing against his inner walls. Moans grew more feral between the two as Ratchet kept his moving servo around Drift, feeling ever twitch and transfluid coating his digits and along the length, wet sounds growing more louder as fluids start to build and pool

Tossing his helm back, Drift lets out a louder mewl, crying out in bliss as he rides Ratchet's spike more densely. "Frag, Ratty, frag, I won't be able to hold it back!"

"Do it, let yourself go." Ratchet gives the all clear between heated vents, because he too wasn't too far off from overloading either. "Let's do it together, same time."

Drift beams warmly through the intense pleasure boiling through him as he grinds himself down over again, venting and gasping sharply, soon muffled as Ratchet kisses him firmly and feels his spike suddenly erupt deep within him, thick ropes of fluids coating his inner walls with some dripping out. Within a moment he bites his lips and gasps out sharply as his own transfluids coat between him and Ratchet, a pink glow covering over Ratchet's digits as well.

Taking his servo, Drift lifts it up to his mouth and sucks at his digits to clean to fluids, tasting himself and letting out a delightful hum around each of them. Ratchet is always heated and flushed, he didn't think it would be possible to be even more, but he was wrong when Drift did this.

"So beautiful." He whispers, allured by the delightful sight as his cooling fans kick in along with Drift's.

"You're just as pretty." Drift whispers through a luminous smile. "I love you, Ratty. I never stopped loving you. My spark will always belong to you, my beloved."

Ratchet feels his very spark jump at his words. "I love you too, Drift. Always have and always will. We'll make this work, I promise."

Drift ends up snuggled up against Ratchet, tangled under his embrace as he purrs gently against his charris. Ratchet missed that purr, a soothing vibration and sound he always cherished.

"We'll be alright, won't we?" Ratchet asks as he caresses the back of Drift's helm.

"I believe so." He hums lightly, giving him a gentle nuzzle. "You've never loosing me ever again."

"Good."

Neither will ever be apart again.

#transformers #ratchet #drift #valveplug #idw #prime #deadlock #ratchet x drift #dratchet #canon x canon #smut #fanfiction #writing #sugarrusheag #this is long #6k words #not sorry

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lilmissnoobster · 11 months ago

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Andrei Nolan NSFW Alphabet

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

Andrei is a sucker for cuddling. Would lay on his back with your head on his chest calming down from the intense moment.

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

He likes his arms, the muscles he has built up over the years of serving in the military makes it easier to manhandle you into positions that he likes.

He loves your thighs; squeezing, pinching, gripping all of it! Would deem it an honor to be suffocated by them.

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

Deep in you for sure! If you’re not into that then he’ll pull out and cum on your entrance.

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

He fantasizes about a threesome with the two of you and Makarov. The thought of you between the two of them makes him feral.

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

Pretty average experience, knows a good deal about the body to give you more pleasure.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Mating press. Being able to manhandle you into the position while guaranteeing he can cum deep into you while getting a good view of your face.

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

Mid-serious, he doesn’t have much time due to being second in command so he cherishes the time he has with you. Will still laugh if something humorous happens.

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

Keeps it trimmed, not overly bushy but not clean-shaven.

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

He looks at you like you hung the stars. Worships you and your body like it’s his last day on earth.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Not often due to his schedule, will send videos of himself doing it though to let you know that you’re on his mind.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Power-play, rigging, praise with hidden degradation, choking, brat taming, edging, and overstimulation.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bedroom, but won’t complain if you end up in a closet or bathroom stall.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Seeing you in tight clothes.His main motivation is seeing you in his shirt and a pair of tight booty shorts.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that could endanger your life if not well versed. Gunplay, knifeplay, choke collars. Does not like you not being able to communicate with him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Is a mix of both, loves seeing you on your knees infront of him. But enamored by your taste, loves being crushed by your thighs when he does.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Likes to start slow, then builds it up until the bed starts to roughly shake like your thighs would be afterwards.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Sees them as a godsend. With how busy he is he loves releasing stress with his beautiful partner.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Only after research is done, does not like to try something new without seeing the risks and benefits.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

About three rounds, this Aussie man has the endurance to make them last a while though.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Sees toys as a plus, loves seeing how much pleasure he can get from you with a vibrator.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Is a fair teaser, knows that you will have to wait for him to have a chance to get away long enough.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Grunts and groans, talks you through it, occasionally moans if he is overstimulated. Has whimpered before when you take control and tease him for a while.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Used to have a Prince Albert piercing, removed it when he enlisted though for safety reasons.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Muscular body with a short, thick cock. Average length but nicely thick to stretch you.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pretty normal, gets pent up if he doesn’t release about three times a week.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards

When he is done comforting you he dozes off after about ten minutes.

#cod modern warfare #call of duty #andrei nolan #cod smut #cod mw3 #cod x reader

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hannieehaee · 1 year ago

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NO SONG WITHOUT YOU (teaser)

18+ / mdi

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

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 782 in this teaser; 10k+ in the final ver

release date: 12/7/23

update: FULL FIC HERE

a/n: so happy to have finally written a long fic for jihoon!! he's one of my biases so i had a lot of fun writing him :D hope u guys enjoy the final product <3

masterlist

Jihoon was tired.

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

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

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atlasthegreatest · 2 months ago

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Into the Wild / Laura Kinney x Sibling! Male Reader

Laura rescues her brother from a lab, and they escape to a secluded cabin. There, she teaches him how to survive in the wild while helping him adjust to freedom. Despite their shared feral instincts and trauma, they form a protective, unspoken bond, relying on each other to navigate their new lives.

Word count: 3042

A/n: This was requested by an anon. I hope you like it!

The cold, sterile air of the lab stung his lungs as he fought to keep his eyes open. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sickly green hue over the metal walls and the glass cage he’d spent his life in. He was barely more than a shadow in the reflections — gaunt, hollow, and forgotten. For as long as he could remember, there had been nothing but the sound of machines and the sharp voices of scientists who saw him as nothing more than an experiment.

Until tonight.

The first sign of her arrival was the sudden silence — the calm before the storm. Then, a deafening crash shattered the air, followed by panicked shouts and the clatter of gunfire. The alarms blared, but he stayed still, eyes fixed on the locked door in front of him, heart racing in his chest.

Then, she appeared.

Laura.

Her hair was a wild tangle, and her eyes glowed with a feral intensity that matched mine. But beyond that, there was something familiar — a shared rage, a shared pain. She stepped through the door like a force of nature, her twin claws still extended, gleaming in the dim light. Her expression softened the moment she saw him, though, and for a brief second, they were just two lost souls, two siblings reunited after being torn apart by the cruel world they were born into.

“Come on,” she said, her voice rough but urgent, cutting through the chaos outside. “We’re getting out of here.”

Y/n didn’t need to be told twice. The moment the glass of his enclosure shattered under her claws, He staggered to his feet and stumbled toward her. The rush of adrenaline drowned out the pain in his limbs and the questions in his head. They moved quickly, a blur of motion as Laura cleared a path through guards and scientists alike.

She was lethal, unhesitant, her claws slicing through anyone who dared to stand in their way. But when she glanced back at him, there was something else in her eyes — a quiet determination to protect him at all costs. And that was all he needed. Y/n followed her blindly, trusting her instinct, trusting her to lead both of them to safety.

The last door to the outside world fell before her claws, and suddenly, they were free.

The crisp night air hit his face like a slap, and the overwhelming smell of pine, earth, and rain filled his senses. For a moment, Y/n just stood there, taking it all in, while Laura kept watch. The forest loomed around them, dark and endless. It was unlike anything he had ever seen.

Laura’s hand rested on his shoulder, grounding him.“Breathe,” she said quietly. “You’re safe now.”

The days that followed were a blur of survival and adjustment. Laura had taken him to a small, hidden cabin deep in the wilderness, far from prying eyes and the lab that had once been his prison. She taught him how to live, and how to survive in the world beyond the sterile walls of the facility.

It wasn’t easy.

Everything was strange to him— the softness of the bed, the warmth of food cooked over a fire, the quiet of the forest. Even the light felt too bright, the sounds too loud. Every part of him was on edge, feral instincts he didn’t know how to control threatening to take over at every turn.

But Laura understood.

She didn’t coddle him, but she didn’t push him too hard either. When Y/n had nightmares — flashes of needles, cold metal, and the weight of my shackles — she sat by his side, her hand resting lightly on his arm, silent but present. When he lashed out, overwhelmed by frustration or fear, she let him have his space but always stayed close enough to let him know he wasn’t alone.

Slowly, Y/n began to find his footing. They would hunt together in the mornings, Laura moving silently through the trees like a predator, teaching him how to track, and how to use his senses in ways he hadn’t before. They ate their meals in companionable silence, the bond between them growing stronger with every passing day. They didn’t need many words; they had an understanding that went beyond language, born from shared pain and blood.

One night, after a long day of hunting, they sat by the fire in front of the cabin. The glow of the flames flickered over Laura’s face, casting her features in shadow. She looked more relaxed than Y/n had ever seen her, her legs stretched out in front of her, her claws retracted.

“You’re doing good,” she said quietly, her voice low. “Better than I did when I got out.”

Y/n looked over at her, surprised. Laura didn’t often talk about herself, about her own escape from the lab and the hell she’d endured. But tonight, there was something softer in her tone, something vulnerable.

“I didn’t have anyone,” she continued, her eyes focused on the fire. “Not at first. I didn’t know how to be… normal. Still don’t, really.”

Y/n nodded, understanding more than I could put into words.

“Thank you,” He said, his voice barely above a whisper. It was the first time he had said it, the first time he had let himself feel gratitude for the sister who had risked everything to save him.

Laura looked over at him, a small, rare smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Don’t mention it. We look out for each other.”

And in that moment, sitting by the fire, the sounds of the forest surrounding us, Y/n knew she was right. They were feral, wild, and broken — but they had each other. And that was enough.

For now, it was enough.

—————————-

The morning after their first real conversation, Y/n woke to the sound of birds chirping outside the cabin, a sound he still wasn’t used to. The sun filtered in through the small window, casting streaks of light across the rough wooden floor. For a moment, Y/n lay there in the bed, trying to remember a time when he wasn’t trapped inside a cage.

But nothing came to him. Just flashes of white walls, needles, and voices speaking in cold, clinical tones.

Y/n pushed the thoughts away, threw off the blankets, and stretched. His muscles still ached from the constant tension of trying to adjust to freedom, but it was getting better. Slowly.

Laura was already outside, sharpening her claws on a nearby tree. Y/n stepped out into the crisp morning air, barefoot and still a bit clumsy with the feeling of earth beneath his feet. She glanced over at him as he approached, then nodded toward a small clearing not far from the cabin.

“Come on,” she said, her voice matter-of-fact. “We’re sparring today.”

Y/n frowned. “Sparring?”

“You’ve got to learn how to defend yourself. The world out there isn’t kind. It’s going to come for you eventually, and when it does, you need to be ready.”

Y/n didn’t argue. Laura was always right about things like this. She had lived through it. She had seen the world for what it was, while he had been locked away, waiting to be someone else’s weapon.

They moved to the clearing, and she turned to face him, hands on her hips.

“First things first,” she said. “You’ve got instincts, but you need control. You’ve spent too long chained up — your body’s probably forgotten how to fight like it’s free.”

She circled him, her sharp eyes watching every twitch, every movement as if she was already dissecting how he moved.

“Don’t overthink it,” she said, her voice low. “We’ve got the same blood in us. You’ll figure it out.”

Y/n nodded, taking a deep breath, and let his claws extend. The familiar snikt sound rang in the air, and he clenched his fists, feeling the sharpness of the metal glinting in the sunlight.

Laura didn’t hesitate. She lunged at him, fast and precise, her claws flashing. Y/n barely managed to duck in time, rolling to the side as she landed where he had been just a second before.

“Too slow,” she muttered, turning on her heel to come at him again.

They danced like that for hours, her relentless attacks forcing him to move, react, and think on his feet. Y/n’s muscles burned, and his head pounded, but there was something exhilarating about the way they moved together. She pushed him to his limits, and just when he thought he couldn’t keep up, some primal instinct would kick in. Y/n would dodge or parry, matching her with a feral grace he hadn’t known he had.

After what felt like an eternity, Laura finally stepped back, retracting her claws with a satisfied nod.

“Not bad,” she said, her breathing steady, as if the entire session had barely winded her. “You’re learning.”

Y/n collapsed onto the ground, panting, feeling the soreness spreading through his limbs. “You’re insane,” He muttered between breaths.

She let out a short, rare laugh. “Takes one to know one.”

Days turned into weeks, and life with Laura became a new rhythm Y/n was slowly starting to understand. Sparring sessions, hunting trips, quiet nights by the fire — it was a strange, almost peaceful existence, but there was always an undercurrent of danger. The world hadn’t forgotten about them, and now and then, Laura would disappear into the nearby town for supplies or news, always returning with a grim expression.

“They’re still looking for us,” she’d say, tossing a few cans of food onto the table before retreating to sharpen her claws.

But even with the threat of being hunted down, they found moments of calm. Moments where they could be siblings.

One evening, after a particularly brutal sparring session that left both of them with cuts and bruises, they sat by the fire again, their usual spot after a long day. Laura had a small first-aid kit spread out in front of her, and she was carefully wrapping gauze around Y/n’s arm where one of her claws had caught him during the fight.

“You know,” she said, her voice quieter than usual, “when I found out about you, I didn’t know if I was ready for this. For… a brother.”

Y/n glanced at her, surprised. She rarely talked about how she felt.

“But then I realized…” She tightened the bandage, then leaned back, looking at him with something softer in her eyes. “You’re all I’ve got. And I’m not letting them take you like they tried to take me.”

Y/n didn’t know what to say to that. He had always thought of himself as a burden, as something that had only caused her more pain by existing. But now, hearing her say it like that, he realized just how much she cared.

“You didn’t have to save me,” He said after a long pause, his voice barely above a whisper. “But you did. Why?”

She met his eyes, her gaze steady and unflinching. “Because we’re family. And family doesn’t leave each other behind.”

There was a long silence between them after that, the crackling of the fire the only sound filling the space. But in that silence, there was an understanding, a bond stronger than the claws they both carried. They were survivors, both of them and now they had each other.

“I’m glad you found me,” Y/n said eventually, the weight of those words settling between them like a promise.

Laura didn’t respond right away, but a small smile tugged at her lips, the kind that came and went so fast you’d almost miss it if you weren’t paying attention.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “Me too.”

For a moment, we just sat there, two feral siblings in the wild, no longer alone.

Bonus chapter:

The day had been relatively quiet, a rarity in their new life. No sparring, no hunting, no trips to town for supplies. Just a calm afternoon spent lounging outside the cabin, the sun casting a warm glow over the forest. But as the light began to fade and the evening chill settled in, Laura stood from her spot on the porch, stretching with a purpose Y/n had come to recognize.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said, glancing at him. “Your hair’s getting out of control.”

Y/n ran a hand through the mess on top of his head, feeling the tangle of unruly strands. It was true — he hadn’t had a proper haircut since she busted him out of the lab. The thick, dark hair had grown wild, much like everything else about him since he’d tasted freedom.

“I guess it’s a little long,” Y/n admitted.

“A little?” Laura scoffed. She nodded toward the cabin door. “Come on. I’ll take care of it.”

Y/n blinked, hesitating. “You know how to cut hair?”

She shrugged, already heading inside to grab something. “How hard can it be?”

Y/n had a feeling this was going to be interesting.

A few minutes later, Y/n sat on a wooden stool just outside the cabin, a towel draped over his shoulders. Laura stood behind him, a pair of scissors in hand, looking down at his hair with the focus she usually reserved for fighting or hunting. Y/n wasn’t entirely sure whether he should feel reassured or nervous.

“Hold still,” she said, gripping a section of his hair and pulling it taut. “This won’t take long.”

The first snip echoed through the quiet of the forest, and Y/n immediately tensed.

“Relax,” she muttered, moving on to another section, her fingers working quickly and methodically. “It’s just hair. It’ll grow back.”

Y/n tried to relax, but the sensation of the scissors slicing through his hair had him on edge. It wasn’t like fighting or surviving out in the wild. This was different. Intimate, almost. The only other time he had felt something similar was when they tended to each other’s wounds after a sparring match or an especially rough day.

Laura worked in silence for a while, cutting away the matted, tangled locks. Her movements were quick and precise, though Y/n had to admit she was a little rough around the edges. He could feel her tugging at knots, pulling harder than necessary, but he didn’t say anything. She was trying, and that was what mattered.

“You know,” she said after a long stretch of silence, “I never did this for myself. Didn’t have anyone to do it for me, either.”

Y/n could hear the faintest trace of vulnerability in her voice, the kind she didn’t let show often. He turned slightly, glancing over his shoulder at her. “You mean… before?”

“Yeah,” she replied, not meeting his gaze as she continued cutting. “After I escaped, I didn’t have time for stuff like this. I didn’t trust anyone to get that close, either. It’s a weird feeling, you know? Letting someone do this.”

Y/n nodded, understanding what she meant more than he could express. After spending so long in the lab, having someone touch him for anything other than needles and tests was strange. But Laura was different. She wasn’t a threat. She was his sister.

“I trust you,” Y/n said quietly.

She paused for a moment, her hand stilling in his hair. Then she resumed, a little more gently this time. “Yeah. I trust you too.”

—————

About halfway through, Y/n could feel Laura’s patience wearing thin. She started muttering under her breath every time the scissors snagged on a knot or when a particularly stubborn piece of hair wouldn’t cooperate.

“This is ridiculous,” she grumbled, stepping around to the front to get a better angle. “How did you let it get this bad?”

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” Y/n said, trying not to flinch as she tugged at a particularly stubborn section. “I was a little busy being locked in a cage.”

Laura huffed, a rare laugh escaping her. “Fair point.”

She leaned in closer, her brow furrowed in concentration, and Y/n could see the faintest hint of frustration in her eyes. Despite her usual confidence in most situations, this was new territory for her — and, he realized, for them.

“You know,” Y/n said, trying to distract her, “you’re not half-bad at this.”

“Shut up,” she said, but he could hear the smirk in her voice.

The next few snips were quieter, and less aggressive, as she found her rhythm. They fell into a comfortable silence again, the only sounds the snipping of the scissors and the soft rustle of the wind through the trees. It was a strange feeling — to be vulnerable like this, to have someone care enough to help with something as simple as a haircut. But with Laura, it felt… normal. Like it was supposed to be this way.

After what felt like an eternity, she stepped back, tilting her head to the side as she assessed her work.

“There,” she said, sounding almost satisfied. “Done.”

Y/n reached up, running a hand through his newly shorn hair. It was shorter, cleaner, but still had that wild, messy look to it — fitting, he suppose, for someone like him.

“Well?” she asked, arms crossed, waiting for his verdict.

Y/n turned to face her, grinning. “Not bad. I think you missed your calling as a hairstylist.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips. “You’re lucky it didn’t end up worse.”

He chuckled, standing up from the stool and shaking off the stray bits of hair that had fallen onto the towel. “Thanks, Laura. Really.”

She shrugged, looking away, but Y/n could see the faintest flush of warmth in her expression. “Don’t get used to it,” she muttered. “Next time, you’re on your own.”

But despite her usual gruffness, he could tell she didn’t mind. Not really.

As they headed back inside the cabin, side by side, Y/n felt something settle between them— a sense of normalcy, or at least the closest thing to it that they could ever have. They were still feral, still fighting to survive in a world that wanted to break them, but at least they had each other.

And, apparently, a decent haircut to go with it.

A/n: I wrote this while listening to If We Had Each Other by Alec Benjamin. Great song.

#marvel #laura kinney #x men #male reader #x23 #laura kinney x reader #siblings

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