#no i don’t mean ‘why are people making this platonic pairing romantic’ i mean why are people making this couple. who are together. romantic.

[hopeworth]

me, aromantic, who forgets that a “ship” is usually romantic and that not everyone can experience nor conceptualise the intricacy of an aromantic relationship that transcends society’s amatonormative views of love and human connection and that most people’s views of a relationship end at the platonic or romantic dichotomy: why are people making this ship romantic

[targaryenluvs]

— OPPOSITES ATTRACT

pairings: clarisse la rue x aphrodite!daughter!reader (romantic) percy jackson x reader (platonic)

summary: the one where percy jackson has to wrap his head around the fact that the nicest person he’s met at camp, is dating clarisse.

warnings: kinda crack ficy in my opinion, fluff, smooches, capture the flag, reader is percy’s saving grace, percy sees the reader as a sister

a/n: i just got inspired okay? ✊🏽

percy’s feet were booming, heard from afar as he ran to the creek’s shore. the ares trio hot on his tail as they chased him down. he knew he couldn’t run forever, he’d have to fight, but how on earth was he going to win against three trained teens?

as if clarisse wasn’t frightening enough already, her scream sent literal chills down percy’s back, guess she really likes spears? he thought to himself.

the sounds of cheers and celebration drew the pairs attention as luke planted the opposing teams flag into the floor. they’d lost. percy felt clarisse’s grip falter, only slightly, but not when she saw the flag, clarisse’s eyes were currently trained on something behind him. more bullies? “there you are! i was waiting for you, wanted to show you my new and improved skills.”

clarisse let go of him and he couldn’t believe it, the rage in her eyes seemed to dissipate the second you came around. you, the sweetest person he’d met here, were friends with that thing?

that thing was capable of feelings?

his jaw dropped at the sight of clarisse’s hands on your cheeks, listening to you ramble on about who you’d fought and defeated in the woods, the pretty butterfly you’d seen. percy’s eyes were so close to popping out of his skull as clarisse kissed you, deeply. then he wanted to vomit as hands traveled and tongues met.

at dinner that night you sat by luke and chris, happily eating away as your hand rested on a book infront of you. “hey perce! come sit down.” you patted the space next to you as he accepted. “what’re you reading?” percy stared at the cover you’d flipped over to display to him, well he wasn’t expecting that. “where’d you get it from?” you pointed towards your girlfriend proudly, “she said she knew i’d like it, isn’t that sweet?”

percy’s weird version of a smile caused you to frown, “your smile is scaring me.” he immediately dropped it as you laughed, causing him to nudge you. “don’t be rude, i’m just a baby.” percy hadn’t felt so comfortable with someone since his mother. you pinched his cheeks, “naw, yes you are.” he swatted your hands away as you giggled, percy stared at you, studying you.

shining eyes, a beaming smile and an enchanting personality, truly a daughter of aphrodite, yet you dated clarisse. it didn’t make sense in his head, but from what little scenes he’d seen between the two of you, if you were happy than he was too, “what do you see in clarisse? why are you with someone so—” you turned to look his way, percy was worried you’d be offended.

but of course you weren’t, “because i like her percy, and she likes me. she’s absolutely gorgeous, if she wasn’t already a daughter of ares or i didn’t know? for sure aphrodite. and, people are always misunderstood, just because someone seems like a bad person, doesn’t mean they are. when clarisse and i are together, i see the best parts of her, always. i love her regardless, but there’s obviously things that you don’t tell everybody you just meet, or if you aren’t super comfortable with a person then you won’t show all the parts of yourself. i think, when you love someone you accept all parts of them, the good, the bad, the worst. you love someone despite their flaws. clarisse is good to me, and i like her, that’s all that matters. you’ll understand when you find someone yourself perce.”

he sat still, raking over your words in his head, “if one person can feel that way about someone else, they’d explode.” you laughed at his words, he was still young of course, he’d understand soon, you had a feeling. “i’d happily explode because of how much i love her.” you glanced back at her, only she wasn’t there.

“well i don’t want you to explode, i do want to spend my night with you.” clarisse stood behind you with her arms crossed, you could see percy tense up at her presence. with your hand on his, and your eyes reassuring him, he smiled, “i’m happy for you, but if she try’s anything i’m more than happy to beat her ass for you even if i’m broken in half.”

clarisse couldn’t hear his whispers, thank god. your smile was small, placing a hand on his shoulder, you kissed percy’s forehead, “my protector, now no one can try anything with me huh? thank you perce, if you need anything here at camp, or if you just want to talk and eat those blue foods of yours—” his arms wrapped around your neck tightly as you recovered from the force.

“thank you.”

“any day perce, any time.”

and percy sat back, watching the two of you walk away hand in hand. a clear thought rung through his head.

opposites attract.

[ingravinoveritas]

Lovely new article about Michael in Paste magazine. Article is behind a paywall, so here is a transcription (with thanks to the person on FB who transcribed it, and the parts in bold are my own emphasis).

There’s so much to love about Prime Video’s Good Omens. A delightful adaptation of the popular Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett novel of the same name, the series is romantic, thoughtful, hilarious, and heartfelt by turns. The story of the almost-apocalypse and what comes afterward, it wrestles with big concepts like destiny, free will, and forgiveness, all framed through the lens of an unorthodox relationship between an angel and a demon whose love for one another is a key to saving the world.

As anyone who has watched Good Omens already knows, nothing about this series works without the pair of lead performances at its center. Stars David Tennant and Michael Sheen—who play the demon Crowley and the angel Aziraphale, respectively—have the kind of lighting-in-a-bottle chemistry that’s the stuff of legend, and their characters’ every interaction conveys both their deep affection for one another and the Earth they’ve made their home. Their romance is the emotional linchpin around which most of the series turns, and their heartbreaking separation in the Season 2 finale is so devastating precisely because we’ve seen how necessary the two are to each other’s lives.

But it’s Sheen’s performance in that final scene that really twists the knife. As Aziraphale’s face crumples following his and Crowley’s long-awaited kiss, the actor manages to convey what feels like every possible human emotion in the span of less than thirty seconds as the angel realizes what he has both had and just lost. The moment is emotionally brutal to watch, particularly after sitting through five and a half episodes of Aziraphale looking as lovestruck as the lead in any rom-com. Sheen makes it all look effortless, shifting from giddy joy to devastated longing and everything in between, and we really don’t talk enough about how powerful and underrated his work in this series truly is.

Though he’s half of the central duo that makes Good Omens tick, Sheen’s role often tends to get overshadowed by his co-star’s. It’s not difficult to see why, given that Tennant gets to spend most of the show swanning around in tight trousers looking like the Platonic ideal of the charming bad boy, complete with flaming red hair and dramatic eyewear. Tennant also benefits from Crowley’s much more sympathetic emotional arc. I mean, it’s hard not to love a cynical demon with a heart of gold who’s been pining after his angelic best friend for literal millennia even after being cast out from Heaven. Of course, viewers are drawn to that—likely a lot more easily than the story of an angel who’s simply trying the best he can to do the right thing as he wrestles with his role in God’s Ineffable Plan. Plus, let’s be real, Tennant’s sizeable Doctor Who fanbase certainly doesn’t hurt his character’s popularity.

As a performer, Sheen has a long history of playing both real people (Tony Blair, David Frost, Brian Clough) and offbeat villains (Prodigal Son’s Martin Whitly, Underworld’s Lucian, the Twilight Saga’s Aro). In some ways, the role of a fussy, bookish angel is playing more than a bit against type for him—Gaiman himself has said he originally intended for Sheen to be Crowley—but in his capable hands, Aziraphale becomes something much more than a simple avatar for the forces of Good (or even of God, for that matter). With a soft demeanor and a positively blinding smile, Sheen’s take on the character consistently radiates warmth and goodness, even as it contains surprisingly hidden depths. The former guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden who gifted a fleeing Adam and Eve his flaming sword and befriended the Serpent who caused their Fall, Azirphale isn’t a particularly conventional angel. He enjoys all-too-human indulgences like food and wine, runs a Hoarders-esque bookshop that never seems to sell anything, and spends most of his time making heart eyes at the being that’s meant to be his hereditary adversary.

Given the much more difficult task of playing the literal angel to Tennant’s charming devil, Sheen must find a way to make ideas like goodness and forgiveness as interesting and fun to watch as their darker counterparts. It’s a generally thankless task, but one that Sheen tackles with gusto, particularly in the series’ second season, as Good Omens explores Aziraphale’s slowly evolving idea of what he can and cannot accept in terms of being a soldier of Heaven. His growing understanding that the truth of creation is colored in shades of grey and compromise is often conveyed through little more than Sheen’s deftly shifting expressions and body language.

Our pop culture consistently struggles to portray the idea of goodness as something compelling or worth watching. Explicitly “good” characters, particularly those who are religiously coded, are frequently treated as the butt of some sort of unspoken joke they aren’t in on, used to underline the idea that faith is a form of naivety or that kindness is somehow a weakness. For a lot of people, the entire concept of turning the other cheek is a sucker’s bet, and believing in something greater than oneself, be it a higher power or a sense of purpose, is a waste of time. But Good Omens is a story grounded in the idea that faith, hope, and love—for one another, God, and the entire world—are active verbs. And nowhere is that more apparent than in Sheen’s characterization of the soft angel whose old-fashioned waistcoats mask a spine of steel and who refuses to give up—on Crowley, on humanity, or on the idea that Heaven is still something that can be saved.

Though he and Tennant have pretty much become a matched set at this point (both on and off-screen), Sheen’s performance has rarely gotten the critical accolades it deserves. (Tennant alone was nominated for a BAFTA for Season 2, and Sheen was categorized as a supporting actor when the series’ competed in the 2019 Saturn Awards.) But it is his quiet strength that holds up so much of the rest of the show around him, and Sheen deserves to be more frequently recognized for it. That he makes it look so easy is just another sign of how good his performance really is.

I love this so much. The thoroughly well-deserved praise for Michael's incredible performance as Aziraphale, but also that Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship is specifically described as a "romance." And of course, the first sentence of the last paragraph that acknowledges how much Michael and David are indeed a "matched set" that cannot (and should not) be separated...

[empress-simps]

Poly!marauders x readers where maybe they are roommates and love the reader and being touchy and caring but the reader just thinks they are affectionate with all their friends?

Thanks for the request darling! I am more than happy to oblige. Thank you for patiently waiting too since it did take a while to publish it (ugh school am I right?) I tweaked it a bit, hope you don’t mindd : ) Really wanted to publish this before my birthday (which is tomorrow) as a little treat to myself and to you guys. I hope you enjoy!

Special Treatment?

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x Reader

CW: None that I could think of?? except for possible typos and grammatical errors. (1.3k words)

You often found asking yourself one-too-many-times if the boys’ affection to you were just purely platonic or romantic.

Maybe you were just being dramatic— giving meaning to meaningless stuff they do for you.

It's probably you, yeah. You and your delusional arse, really. Why would they want you in the mix when the three of them are already dating?

Although— you just can't help but feel special when Remus makes you his famous “Moony toast” as he likes to call it, or when Sirius calls you 'his doll' and slings his arm over your shoulder which results in your stomach doing flips, and let’s not forget how James would flash his mega-watt smile, setting your breakfast down and making sure you know that he's the one who cooked it for you.

With the help of Remus, of course— your flat would turn into ashes if you let James cook alone in the kitchen.

Being roommates with three dudes is certainly uncommon but fun. Telling people about it… well, makes them shoot you questioning looks or are concerned that you’re being held hostage by three big burly men.

You really weren’t sure how it happened— the four of you just fitted together seamlessly, similar to cogs of a well-oiled machine.

It began during the last three months of your 7th year in Hogwarts, you decided to start looking for flats to rent, preferably in close to London. You wanted to live where muggles are, having such keen interest about them and their daily lives, deciding to pursue a muggle career also helped you in your decision.

You tried searching if there's any available flats to rent and how much it’ll cost. However, seeing that you're a broke student, you really couldn't afford any sky-high prices for rent.

It seemed like all hope was lost until you asked one of your friends, Lily, if she knows anyone looking for a flat mate.

You were sure she was an angel sent here on Earth, after a few days she told you that Remus, James, and Sirius have no problems taking you in, seeing that you guys are housemates during their years in Hogwarts.

The rest was history.

They made sure you wouldn’t feel left out. It was how they looked out for you, the way they included you in every plan, every joke, every moment of their lives.

Although, as the days turn into weeks, and weeks into months you start to notice the little things they do.

"Hey doll, have any movies tickled your fancy yet?" Sirius asks, sneaking his arm around your waist, leaning close to your face.

"Erm, no not really... You guys could pick, I'd be fine with anything." You smiled at him, before fleeing to the kitchen to calm your racing heart.

"You're just friends with them, Y/n. I'm sure they do this with Lily and the others..." you let out a mumble, absentmindedly grabbing a glass of water before bumping into someone.

"Whoa, are you okay, darling?" Remus' worried voice pulled you out of your thoughts as he cupped your face before placing the back of his hand on your forehead.

"I'm alright!" You squeaked; Remus' doesn't really look to convinced. "Are you sure, darling? You look rather flushed... I told you to bring your jacket yesterday when you went out. You probably caught a cold." He frowned, you tried to protest but your attempt was futile as he shimmied off his cardigan and made you wear it. "I'll make you some lemon water, alright darling?" James called out from the living room, "We're starting the movie without you guys!"

Remus yelled out, boiling some warm water. "Hold your bloody horses, prongs! I'm making some lemon water." You heard a shuffling of feet nearing you, making you look up.

"Love, don't tell me you're sick." He frowns, and like what Remus did earlier, he placed the back of his hand on your forehead. "I'm not sick." You protested, but it all fell on deaf ears.

Next time you told them you went out, you were practically dressed for winter even though it's only spring.

Those little things made you honestly take a step back and re-asses your situation with them because for merlin's sake, why do they act like your boyfriends when you're just friends with them, right? You couldn't really open it up to Lily because you'd probably sound stupid if this was just normal for them.

Your mind ran with hundreds of what if's and the way Remus' eyes linger on you for a second too long, with an emotion you can't quite decipher doesn't help soothe the thoughts in your mind. The warmth of Sirius' touch, James and oh merlin, when the three of them kissed you on the cheeks during a movie night? You really couldn't live in denial anymore.

You're no detective but the signs are there, clear as day. There's a high chance they're not just being friendly—they care, deeply. And maybe, just maybe, you do too.

Having read enough romance novels, you quickly recognized the pattern, but this isn't fiction. This is real life, and these are your roommates—three guys who have somehow, inexplicably, fallen for the same person. You.

Sitting in loveseat while nursing a cup of tea, you couldn’t help but notice the way the morning light caught in Sirius’s hair, giving him a halo that seemed so at odds with his mischievous smirk. “Morning, doll,” he greeted, his voice a smooth baritone that sent shivers throughout your system. Does this man haven't ever heard of morning voice?

“Morning,” you replied, trying to keep your voice even. “Slept well?”

“Like a log,” he said, eyes softening before squeezing himself beside you. “Did you? You were up late reading with Moony.”

You nodded, the feeling the warmth within your chest surfacing because of the memory. Remus usually reads his novel alongside you, it's sort of yours and his thing. Although you sometimes found yourself getting distracted and instead of focusing on the book, you were drawn to the gentle timbre of his voice and the way his hand occasionally brushed yours as he pointed something out on the page he was reading.

And then there was James, who was currently flipping pancakes with a concentration that was both endearing and amusing. He caught your eye and grinned, the same smile that had greeted you every morning since you’d moved in. “These are going to be the best pancakes you’ve ever tasted,” he declared. “Guaranteed to improve your day by at least twenty percent.”

You laughed, the sound mingling with the sizzling of the batter. “I’ll hold you to that.”

A bedroom creaked open, and Remus shuffled out, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Is that breakfast I smell?” he mumbled, heading to the kitchen "Yeah, go help prongsie, moons. It's a miracle he hasn't started a fire yet." Sirius teased, it made Remus more awake and practically ran to supervise James.

After a few moments, the four of you were digging into the half-burnt pancakes that James was proud of, a mishmash of pajamas and bed hair (except for Sirius), and yet it felt right. It felt like family. As you ate, you found yourself observing them, the way they interacted with each other, and with you. There was a harmony; a rhythm that you had become a part of without even realizing it.

It was in the little things: the way Remus passed you the syrup without you having to ask, or the sound of Sirius’ laughter seemed to wrap around you like a warm blanket. And James? Well, he was the glue that held it all together, his energy infectious and his presence a constant source of comfort for all of you.

You realized; it didn’t matter what other people thought. They don't see what you saw, feel what you've felt. They don’t understand that this was more than just a shared living space; it was a shared life. And maybe, just maybe, it was okay to give meaning to the ‘meaningless stuff’ because, to you, it meant everything.

And as you looked around at the three men who had become your world, you knew that this was normal. Your normal. And it was perfect.

[hanahanumana]

From AnaMaria Abramovic on Fb

Paste magazine has done an article about Michael and how underrated he is in Good Omens and I found a transcript since it's behind a paywall. Here's the link if anyone wants to subscribe. 💙

https://www.pastemagazine.com/tv/amazon-prime-video/good-omens-michael-sheen-underrated-performance-explained-streaming

There’s so much to love about Prime Video’s Good Omens. A delightful adaptation of the popular Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett novel of the same name, the series is romantic, thoughtful, hilarious, and heartfelt by turns. The story of the almost-apocalypse and what comes afterward, it wrestles with big concepts like destiny, free will, and forgiveness, all framed through the lens of an unorthodox relationship between an angel and a demon whose love for one another is a key to saving the world.

As anyone who has watched Good Omens already knows, nothing about this series works without the pair of lead performances at its center. Stars David Tennant and Michael Sheen—who play the demon Crowley and the angel Aziraphale, respectively—have the kind of lighting-in-a-bottle chemistry that’s the stuff of legend, and their characters’ every interaction conveys both their deep affection for one another and the Earth they’ve made their home. Their romance is the emotional linchpin around which most of the series turns, and their heartbreaking separation in the Season 2 finale is so devastating precisely because we’ve seen how necessary the two are to each other’s lives.

But it’s Sheen’s performance in that final scene that really twists the knife. As Aziraphale’s face crumples following his and Crowley’s long-awaited kiss, the actor manages to convey what feels like every possible human emotion in the span of less than thirty seconds as the angel realizes what he has both had and just lost. The moment is emotionally brutal to watch, particularly after sitting through five and a half episodes of Aziraphale looking as lovestruck as the lead in any rom-com. Sheen makes it all look effortless, shifting from giddy joy to devastated longing and everything in between, and we really don’t talk enough about how powerful and underrated his work in this series truly is.

Though he’s half of the central duo that makes Good Omens tick, Sheen’s role often tends to get overshadowed by his co-star’s. It’s not difficult to see why, given that Tennant gets to spend most of the show swanning around in tight trousers looking like the Platonic ideal of the charming bad boy, complete with flaming red hair and dramatic eyewear. Tennant also benefits from Crowley’s much more sympathetic emotional arc. I mean, it’s hard not to love a cynical demon with a heart of gold who’s been pining after his angelic best friend for literal millennia even after being cast out from Heaven. Of course, viewers are drawn to that—likely a lot more easily than the story of an angel who’s simply trying the best he can to do the right thing as he wrestles with his role in God’s Ineffable Plan. Plus, let’s be real, Tennant’s sizeable Doctor Who fanbase certainly doesn’t hurt his character’s popularity.

As a performer, Sheen has a long history of playing both real people (Tony Blair, David Frost, Brian Clough) and offbeat villains (Prodigal Son’s Martin Whitly, Underworld’s Lucian, the Twilight Saga’s Aro). In some ways, the role of a fussy, bookish angel is playing more than a bit against type for him—Gaiman himself has said he originally intended for Sheen to be Crowley—but in his capable hands, Aziraphale becomes something much more than a simple avatar for the forces of Good (or even of God, for that matter). With a soft demeanor and a positively blinding smile, Sheen’s take on the character consistently radiates warmth and goodness, even as it contains surprisingly hidden depths. The former guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden who gifted a fleeing Adam and Eve his flaming sword and befriended the Serpent who caused their Fall, Azirphale isn’t a particularly conventional angel. He enjoys all-too-human indulgences like food and wine, runs a Hoarders-esque bookshop that never seems to sell anything, and spends most of his time making heart eyes at the being that’s meant to be his hereditary adversary.

Given the much more difficult task of playing the literal angel to Tennant’s charming devil, Sheen must find a way to make ideas like goodness and forgiveness as interesting and fun to watch as their darker counterparts. It’s a generally thankless task, but one that Sheen tackles with gusto, particularly in the series’ second season, as Good Omens explores Aziraphale’s slowly evolving idea of what he can and cannot accept in terms of being a soldier of Heaven. His growing understanding that the truth of creation is colored in shades of grey and compromise is often conveyed through little more than Sheen’s deftly shifting expressions and body language.

Our pop culture consistently struggles to portray the idea of goodness as something compelling or worth watching. Explicitly “good” characters, particularly those who are religiously coded, are frequently treated as the butt of some sort of unspoken joke they aren’t in on, used to underline the idea that faith is a form of naivety or that kindness is somehow a weakness. For a lot of people, the entire concept of turning the other cheek is a sucker’s bet, and believing in something greater than oneself, be it a higher power or a sense of purpose, is a waste of time. But Good Omens is a story grounded in the idea that faith, hope, and love—for one another, God, and the entire world—are active verbs. And nowhere is that more apparent than in Sheen’s characterization of the soft angel whose old-fashioned waistcoats mask a spine of steel and who refuses to give up—on Crowley, on humanity, or on the idea that Heaven is still something that can be saved.

Though he and Tennant have pretty much become a matched set at this point (both on and off-screen), Sheen’s performance has rarely gotten the critical accolades it deserves. (Tennant alone was nominated for a BAFTA for Season 2, and Sheen was categorized as a supporting actor when the series’ competed in the 2019 Saturn Awards.) But it is his quiet strength that holds up so much of the rest of the show around him, and Sheen deserves to be more frequently recognized for it. That he makes it look so easy is just another sign of how good his performance really is.

[burst-of-iridescent]

No, Shipping Zutara Is Not Supporting Amatonormativity (Please Use Some Fucking Braincells For Once)

- a treatise by a severely pissed off aroace zutara shipper

since words don’t mean anything anymore (if they ever did on the esteemed piss-on-the-poor website), let’s start with a definition.

amatonormativity: the set of social assumptions that everyone prospers with a romantic relationship, thereby positioning marriage as a universal goal of adult life. amatonormativity forms the basis of several institutional structures that are built to cater to romantic bonds over all others, also manifesting in social pressure on individuals to find a romantic partner by pushing the false narrative that those who do not experience romance are automatically lonely, unhappy and unfulfilled. it is usually characterized by the prioritization of romantic love over other forms of love, particularly platonic.

the anti-zutara argument based on this is as follows: wanting zutara to happen is amatonormative because it a) devalues zuko and katara’s platonic bond b) pushes the idea that men and women can’t be friends and c) doesn’t align with the themes of the show, as romantic love was never the point of atla.

i would like to take the time today to tell you that this is some fucking bullshit, for the following reasons:

one, this may come as a shock to some of you, but zutara shippers did not invent the concept of romantic love in avatar: the last airbender. you are more than welcome to criticize the pairings of suki/sokka, katara/aang, mai/zuko, yue/sokka, jin/zuko, jet/katara, and even kanna/pakku for perpetuating amatonormativity through their unnecessary romantic subplots. and if you don’t have anything to say about any of those pairings, then here’s a word for you: hypocrite.

zk shippers are not introducing the taint of romantic love into some kind of wholesome platonic utopia where it never existed. when we say zutara should have been canon, it is a statement that ends with the implicit instead of kat.aang and mai.ko tacked on at the back because if we were going to get a romantic relationship anyway, it might as well have been one that was well-developed, narratively impactful, and thematically relevant.

two, saying zutara is amatonormative is fucking rich when the main “romance” of atla is a three season long struggle to get out of the friendzone. aang’s desire to be in a romantic relationship with katara is one of his primary motivations throughout the show, and not once does either he or the narrative ever entertain the thought that just being katara’s friend might be enough. to the contrary, aang’s crush and the potential of its reciprocation is a fundamental part of how the story gets its audience to invest in both his character and the kat.aang relationship. they want you to want him to get the girl, and that’s the driving force of the ship’s development from start to finish.

you can see the influence of this in the way people defend why kat.aang had to happen: “aang would be crushed!” “it would break aang’s heart!” “aang deserves to be happy!” and that in and of itself is more amatonormative than any version of romantic zutara, as if this idea that aang is somehow doomed to a life of misery and loneliness just because he can’t be with the girl he likes isn’t inherently based on the assumption that platonic love can’t be as meaningful and satisfying as romantic love.

three, let’s be so fucking fr: a show written by cishet men in the early 2000s was not “subverting amatonormativity” by not making zutara happen, especially not when they went for the fucking olympic gold of romantic cliches — the hero gets the girl trope — instead. otherwise, why did the entire show end with an uncomfortably long liplock? if romance would’ve devalued zuko and katara’s platonic bond, then what the everloving fuck happened to their friendship in the comics and the legend of korra?

it is blatantly false to say that zutara shippers are the ones devaluing their platonic bond when the creators did it first. they evidently don’t view zutara’s platonic bond as equal to kat.aang’s romantic one, judging by their treatment of both relationships in the comics and LOK and the fact that they talked about kat.aang “winning” the ship war in the first place. because if the two relationships were of equivalent standing, why would there be a winner and a loser at all?

amatonormativity is baked into the DNA of atla, and while some people choose to reject this framework entirely (zk friendship >>> ka romance anyday), it is also not wrong for zk shippers to be annoyed at the treatment zutara received within the context of said framework. since the creators clearly thought a romantic relationship was better than a platonic one, they could at least have picked the couple that actually made sense instead of adding insult to injury by making that romance kat.aang. it is not amatonormative to acknowledge that zutara was not afforded the distinction it should have been in the eyes of those who wrote it, because it’s obvious that the decision to keep zuko and katara’s relationship platonic wasn’t to respect their friendship, but to position them as inferior to kat.aang.

four, detractors of romantic zutara often argue that their platonic relationship is inherently better & i’ve discussed before why that isn’t the case, but i also hate this argument because it’s perpetuating the very thing that aromantic people are trying to get rid of in the first place: the hierarchization of love. it is not the “gotcha!” you think it is to genuinely state that platonic love is better than romantic love, because it’s still buying into the idea that there’s some kind of order to categorizing human relationships. the solution to amatonormativity isn’t changing what form of love gets to be at the top of the list — it’s doing away with the hierarchy entirely.

i ship zuko and katara because canon already gave me their friendship. i already know what their platonic relationship looks like and that gives me more room for imagination in developing their romantic one because it’s a place canon didn’t go.

at the end of the day, friendship and romance are just different avenues of exploring intimacy. neither is inherently more valuable than the other, and neither is inherently more problematic. and if you truly believe in dismantling amatonormative beliefs, you would recognize that making a distinction between the two is only perpetuating the problem, not challenging it.

[wooahaes]

a spark of realization

pairing: non-idol!hoshi x gn!reader

prompt: soulmate au series. 13/13

word count: 5.0k~

warnings: some food mentions. some angst. coworkers au. platonic love between soonyoung and his friends <3 some alcohol mentions (all regarding soonyoung drinking, no real mentions of reader actually drinking). mentions of static shocks throughout.

daisy’s notes: soonyoung looks at all of his friends and goes 'i love u all so much' and im like god same me when i look at my friends

summary: Unlike Jihoon and every other friend that swore they didn’t have one, Soonyoung knows he doesn’t have a soulmate. He’s tried plenty of the subtle soulmate things. He doesn’t feel anyone’s pain or emotions, he doesn’t taste anything weird, and he’s dyed his hair enough times to know that he most likely doesn’t have someone out there. Yet the static that makes his hair stand on end sometimes just causes him to think that maybe there’s something else to expect…

Kwon Soonyoung was positive about one thing in his life: he did not have a soulmate. Never showed any signs when he was ten onward, and he never would. Sure, it hurt to hear when he was ten—he was ten and stuck into this category of “without” regardless of how he felt about having a soulmate, that was sure to make anyone upset—but he’d figured things out for himself while growing up. Some people hated their soulmates. Other people loved them, sure, like… every single one of his friends now, but that was beside the point. Soonyoung had decided several things for himself. 

One: he didn’t need a soulmate to be happy and fulfilled. Plenty of people didn’t end up with their soulmates. Plenty of people didn’t have a romantic relationship with their soulmates, but stayed in touch. Some people didn’t even want their soulmates at all, either. Therefore: no one needed a soulmate to be a complete person. He was just fine on his own. (This was something his parents taught him from an early age.)

Two: Soonyoung did have soulmates, actually. Twelve of them. His twelve closest friends were his soulmates, platonically, and they’d all chosen each other in life. But if he had to pick one, then it was easily Jihoon. The two had known each other the longest now, and Soonyoung had told him one night that if neither of them had soulmates, then they were platonic soulmates. And even after Jihoon found his soulmate, Soonyoung still believed in it. The two of them just fit together in a way that was right.

“Really?” Jihoon had been half-asleep on the couch that night, tired from both work work and music work. He and Joshua had to re-record the song they’d been working on… again. Soonyoung could admire how dedicated Jihoon was to having a perfect product, though. “That’s sappy.”

Soonyoung had giggled, admittedly very much not sober. “No, no, I mean it! We’re soulmates, I think.” Another burst of giggles as he reached toward Jihoon’s hand. “I know you have one now, but…” 

Jihoon gently patted his cheek. “No, you’re right. We’re soulmates, too.” He shut his eyes, about to nod off again. “Soonyoung…” He yawned, turning onto his side. His dark eyes found Soonyoung’s a moment later, only barely open. “I don’t want to give you false hope, but… Have you ever looked into it?”

Soonyoung leaned against him. Of course he had. Hadn’t most people who did, deep down, want a soulmate? Well, maybe except Vernon. Vernon did his own thing most of the time. “I don’t wanna.”

“You don’t have to,” Jihoon said, understanding as always. “But…”

“Hm?”

“It’s hard to live in a world where I would have one and you wouldn’t.” Jihoon’s voice was heavy with sleep, and his eyelids fluttered shut again a moment later. “That’s all.”

“Why not?” Soonyoung stifled a yawn. “You’re cool. You make music. Plenty of people would love that. You can write your soulmate love songs now.” 

It earned a quiet chuckle from Jihoon. “Just…” He trailed off. “I was okay with not having one because love is… different. Like what Wonwoo says about it. It’s a choice and something you make. But you…” 

Soonyoung blinked curiously at him. He…? 

“Anyone would love you,” he mumbled, clearly beginning to doze off now. “I just don’t understand how it could be me and not you.”

Soonyoung had decided to love Jihoon extra from that point on. Jihoon’s soulmate did the same, and everyone else truly adored Jihoon, but Soonyoung understood. Jihoon never saw himself as the leading man in any situation. He wasn’t sure if that extended to believing he wasn’t anyone’s first choice (he was always Soonyoung’s, if that meant anything), but Soonyoung didn’t need to know. He just knew that he would always hype up Jihoon as much as he could. Everyone did, to be fair, but Soonyoung was happy to be a louder voice among the crowd. He would always be there to stream his songs when they were released and share them on every account he had, even if that sometimes required Seungcheol or Wonwoo helping him not break the link in the process.

But he’d never let go of that thought. How could it be me and not you? As if Jihoon deserved a soulmate less than Soonyoung did. Soonyoung had his moments of yearning, the same way that Seokmin often did, but he wouldn’t trade places with any of his friends. Their soulmates meant something to them. Soonyoung had seen the way Seungkwan doted on his soulmate day in and day out, and he’d quietly apologized to him once for the times he’d made inappropriate jokes. 

“What, those?” Seungkwan hadn’t seemed bothered in the slightest. “You were trying to make light of things so I wouldn’t worry.” He crossed his arms. “They hurt in those moments, but I can’t blame you for trying.”

How did Soonyoung get so lucky? Was this what the universe granted him in exchange for lacking a soulmate…? He wasn’t sure, but he wouldn’t trade any of his friends for a soulmate. He’d happily make do with the twelve he’d forged any day.

Okay, so maybe Soonyoung was getting in his head a little. Seokmin had just spent a  little over two weeks in a time loop because, surprise, he also had a soulmate. Which sent Soonyoung down a small spiral. According to some study out there that still needed more information to be more valid or whatever, a good portion of people who were told they didn’t have soulmates when they were ten were people who didn’t have obvious signs. Time loops, hair colors matching, lost items, sparks flying, colored footprints leading to the other person… All things that people simply wouldn’t have seen at age ten. 

So maybe Soonyoung started to dye his hair after Jihoon found his soulmate. It wasn’t abnormal, Soonyoung did like to play with his hair. It’d been a while since he’d gone bleach blonde. And maybe his soulmate didn’t care and that was why he stayed bleach blonde until his roots started to show. And maybe his soulmate didn’t care that their hair was cherry red not long after that…

And, maybe, Soonyoung was acutely aware of the date after Seokmin broke his loop. Each day followed one another as they always did, but Soonyoung swore a Tuesday felt just like a Monday once. 

And maybe, just maybe, Soonyoung lost a bracelet with his name on it. Joshua made him another one, no question, but he hadn’t found anything that didn’t belong to him (or Jihoon) in his living space. Everything was in its proper spot, just as it was supposed to be. Nothing new. 

No footprints stood out to him, and he hadn’t bumped into anyone lately that made him feel those mystical sparks that Jun once told him about. 

Kwon Soonyoung did not need a soulmate to be happy… So why did he want one so badly?

“I don’t need one,” was what he blubbered to Seungcheol one night, a week after Seokmin broke his time loop. “I don’t. I shouldn’t act like I need one to be happy because I am happy. I’ve been happy before, so—”

“It’s okay.” Seungcheol had held him as he cried. “Soonyoung, it’s normal for people to want them just as much as it’s normal for people to not. If you want a soulmate, it’s okay.” 

How was he supposed to say that now it was starting to hurt? That all twelve of the soulmates he chose in life had their own soulmates, even the ones who were convinced they didn’t? 

“Work is still bad,” Soonyoung said suddenly, still crying into Seungcheol’s shoulder. The words just seemed to dribble from his mouth now, no true thoughts behind them. “Two of the new hires took off because they found out they were soulmates and—and they wanted to get busy living life while they could. And now all of us are staying every night because we have to make up their work, and—”

He just kept babbling, sobbing as everything seemed to spill out of him. Seungcheol just held him, rubbing circles into his back to soothe him. Soon enough, all the words had dried up, and Soonyoung was just left, breathing quietly as he came back down. His head felt foggier than before. Lighter, though. 

“You’ll be okay,” Seungcheol promised him when Soonyoung finally moved away to wipe his face. “I’ll buy you dinner when you work next, okay?”

“I feel guilty,” Soonyoung said a moment later. With less thoughts to weigh him down, his feelings seemed to become more obvious. 

Seungcheol had chuckled. “You shouldn’t. I’m offering—”

“Not that.” Soonyoung let out a long sigh, tugging his sleeves down over his hands for a moment. When did he start feeling so cold? “I… I love all of you. You’re all some of my best friends. I meant it when I said I consider you all soulmates. I feel like I should be happy that we all met in this life, but…”

“We can’t fill that void,” Seungcheol said. He turned to face Soonyoung fully, arm draped over the back of the couch. “Soonyoung. I love you, but you aren’t my soulmate. There’s things I want to do with them now that I know them that I wouldn’t want to do with anyone else. I can’t call it love because I haven’t known them long enough, but… You do understand, right?”

Of course he understood. Soonyoung had dated before, after all. “I know, but—”

“None of us want you to feel left out,” he said. “If you want to date, then you should try dating again when things have calmed down.” He paused, “Or now, but I think the stress from work is getting to you too much.” Again, Seungcheol paused, mulling over his thoughts as though he needed to get them right the first time he spoke them aloud. “Soonyoung. Do you remember what you told all of us when you said we were your soulmates?”

Soonyoung had been… a little drunk that night. Most of them were. But Soonyoung had seen the videos that were taken by his friends of his drunken rambling, and he’d said a lot. “Which part?”

“The universe picked soulmates for a lot of us,” Seungcheol said, “but we still have to choose them. And you decided you would choose us.”

It was the easiest decision Soonyoung had ever made, and one that admittedly made him and a few others cry. He’d been right, though, hadn’t he? A soulmate was a person that the universe felt was perfect for you, but plenty of soulmates didn’t last. It was almost always the people who believed that just being soulmates was enough to have a lasting relationship. Soonyoung had seen people who finally reached their breaking point and ended things, always crying later because that was their soulmate. Almost always, their stories were similar to the others: they weren’t trying. It was supposed to come naturally to them. But a soulmate wasn’t a guarantee for love. All relationships, platonic or romantic or familial, needed work put into them. That was why Soonyoung knew that a soulmate represented a choice. One that the universe made for a person, but a choice that a person had to keep choosing if they wanted to make things work. That was how love worked, after all. Soonyoung had been in love before, and he had chosen that person until they couldn’t choose each other anymore. 

And he knew that it went the same for those with soulmates. Seungkwan had been with his soulmate for over a year now, and plenty of people could count the petty disagreements the two had had. They always came back together after they cooled off, talking things out like adults (sometimes with a little intervention from Chan or Vernon, but those moments were rare). Minghao and his soulmate had an actual argument not too long ago, but they’d bounced back and been stronger than before for it. Even Jeonghan, who had loved his soulmate almost his entire life, had an unfortunate spat that lasted a few days before he reached out to them and asked to reconcile. Love was a choice as much as it was a feeling. It was what brought them all back together again. A soulmate wasn’t the end-all be-all of love, but Soonyoung had realized why they all fit so well together. They all shared some sort of experience in some way, whether it be a string to connect them or losing objects. It was something to bond over, to open up the doors to choosing one another once that decision was clear. 

“Someone is going to choose you some day,” Seungcheol said, completely serious. “And they’ll be lucky if you choose them, too.” 

Soonyoung wiped at his eyes with his sleeve again, the fabric scratchy against his skin. Minghao would be chastising him now for it, pulling tissues out of his pocket or his bag depending on where he’d decided to keep them that day. That, too, was Minghao choosing to love his friend. “I love you,” he said softly. Thank you for choosing to be in my life. He wasn’t sure where he’d be without him.

Seungcheol chuckled, warm as ever. “I love you, too,” he said back, always as though it were the easiest thing in the world. Maybe, for Seungcheol, it was. 

A week later, work was a little kinder to him. His coworkers gossiped about some new hires coming into the company, and Soonyoung, truly, couldn’t care less. As long as they did their jobs and didn’t run off immediately to see the world or whatever those two were doing, he was happy. He’d given a polite nod to the new hires as they were introduced, and ignored the way the hairs on the back of his hand were standing on end. He’d charged himself with too much static upon coming in, dragging his feet as he tried to subtly push his sock back up after it had rolled down. He’d managed to discharge the static eventually, although the slight zap from the metal he touched had made him hiss in pain. It felt like a little too much, but what did he know? He had other things to worry about, like the backlog of work that still stood out to him. It’d take a few days for things to calm down for good. And, sure, the polite thing to do would be to get drinks with his coworkers… But no one was inviting anyone anywhere. Not when there was too much work during the day and everyone was exhausted by the time they all clocked out. 

“So? What do you think?” One of his coworkers had whispered to another after the new hires (a pair of people around Soonyoung’s age) had left ahead of them, having packed up quickly to catch their buses home.

Soonyoung packed up a little slower. Maybe it was wrong to listen in, but…

“Hm…” The woman hummed to herself for a moment, shifting her weight from leg to leg. “I’m not sure yet. Sungyoon seems to work hard, but the other person…” She frowned, crossing her arms as she grew still. “They’re very quiet. Like…” 

Soonyoung knew that she had just glanced at him. He’d always been the quiet one at work, the polite one who worked hard. That’s what you were like, from what he understood, too. You came in, you put yourself to work, and then politely excused yourself when you needed to run to get to your bus. Sungyoon had gone with you, not keeping it secret from anyone that the two of you were at least friends. Speaking of…

“Do you think they’re dating?” She whispered to the other. 

Soonyoung hoped you weren’t. You were… actually kinda cute? Plus he admired your work ethic a lot, even on your first day. Maybe when things calmed down, he could ask you out to coffee or something. 

“I didn’t see any marks,” the other man said, not bothering to lower his voice any further. “They could be soulmates. They clearly have a history…”

Soonyoung packed his bag and took off. He’d had enough of this. The journey home was uneventful, but Jihoon had picked up on how disgruntled Soonyoung was from the moment he walked in the door. Halfway through his vent session, Jihoon had looked at him.

“Why are you jealous? You just met them.” 

Jealous? Soonyoung was not jealous of anyone. He choked on his own words, unsure of what he could say that was actually convincing. If he denied it, then Jihoon would only believe that he was bullshitting him to try and save face. Yes, you were cute in Soonyoung’s eyes, but he’d only just met you! He’d be a weirdo if he was jealous this quickly! And you wouldn’t want anything to do with him if he was weird. 

“I’m not jealous,” Soonyoung said once he was sure he could say it casually. “I just find it weird that my coworkers care so much. They’re doing a good job.” He paused for a second, “both of them are! Sungyoon is very nice.”

Jihoon was not convinced. Nothing could convince him now, then. “Mhm.” He shrugged. “Nothing wrong with being a little jealous if they’re clearly close. Just don’t let it bother you.”

“I’m not!” Soonyoung felt his face heating up. He wasn’t. He wasn’t bothered in the slightest. It was more-so his coworkers being weird about it. It was weird to speculate, wasn’t it? If you had a soulmate, then good for you. If you didn’t, then… 

Then maybe Soonyoung had a shot.

“A soulmate?” You had looked up, the same man who’d speculated about you and Sungyoon being soulmates having shoved his nose into your business. You blinked, unsure of where this topic had even come from. “No, I don’t have one. I don’t think I do, at least. Is this a part of company business? I told H.R. after I was hired that I don’t have any signs that would prevent me from working, but I didn’t know everyone needed to know this.”

Soonyoung smiled to himself. Yeah, you tell him. It was your business anyway. 

“But what about you and Sungyoon—”

“College friends.” You smiled politely. “We live close to one another, too. I’m not seeing anyone now. Is that all?”

Sungyoon sat at his desk, watching you with this amused twinkle in his eyes. Sungyoon had the same kind of admiration for you that Soonyoung had for his friends, he was positive. He watched the way his coworker slinked off after a moment, apologizing for prying into your personal life as you returned to work. Soonyoung reached down to pull something from a desk drawer, only to feel a familiar zap the moment he did. He’d winced in pain, but it did nothing to dampen his mood. When Soonyoung relayed later the information to his friends at dinner that night, Wonwoo had watched him the entire time, all too aware of how thrilled Soonyoung seemed to be about the whole ordeal.

“Why do you seem so happy?”

Was he happy? He was, kind of. Without being disrespectful, you’d rebuffed the guy and kept most of your privacy in doing so. There were no long drawn out college stories about some adventure you and Sungyoon had while in college, no emotional moments of spilling about how you resented the fact you didn’t have a soulmate. Hell, Soonyoung had no idea how you felt about it. Were you indifferent like him? Did you have a similar situation to him, too, where you had chosen your own soulmates out of your friends?

“They were being disrespected,” Soonyoung had settled on saying. “I’m glad they handled the situation well—”

“He likes them and wants to ask them out,” Jihoon said after taking a sip of his water. “So he’s glad they’re single.”

Soonyoung shoved Jihoon slightly. “That’s not it at all!”

Jun chuckled from his seat, watching the exchange. “There’s nothing wrong with liking them, you know.” 

“There isn’t, but I don’t like them like that. I barely know them. We’ve barely even talked.” Soonyoung rolled his eyes. “How can I like someone I don’t know yet?”

Wonwoo shrugged. “I liked my soulmate before I really knew them. They seemed interesting.” 

“That’s different!” 

“Is it?” Jun shrugged. “I haven’t known my soulmate for long, but I still liked them before we started talking. They seemed nice. You can have a good opinion of someone without knowing them intimately—”

“That’s not the point,” Soonyoung said. “You’re all trying to turn this into something it’s not. I just… I dunno. When I see them, I want to know them more. It’s like they just keep pulling my attention toward them.” He paused, chopsticks in hand as he looked up. “They keep looking at me, actually. It’s kinda funny. I think they might be into me, actually.”

Suddenly, all three of his friends exchanged a look. Soonyoung furrowed his brows. “What?”

And none of them would tell him their thoughts. When he pushed further later as they were leaving the restaurant, Jihoon just waved him off. 

“You’ll figure it out.” 

“Shit!”

Soonyoung looked up at the sound of your voice, soft enough that it didn’t catch everyone’s attention. Sungyoon withheld a chuckle as you glared at him a moment later, and Soonyoung couldn’t help but keep his eyes on the pair of you. You’d wrung out your hand, reaching for your desk drawer as you started to search through it for a highlighter. Soonyoung liked the fact that you always highlighted things in pretty colors—bright green so far, but he overheard you telling another coworker, Seungmin, that you liked to switch out colors every so often. It kept things fresh, and Soonyoung found that cute. Almost as cute as the novelty erasers that you kept on your desk to decorate it, never using them since you always used pens (save for the pencil you kept exclusively for the sticky notes you attached to your computer monitor). 

“It’s not funny,” you had hissed back at him. “This place has a bad static problem… Is the air dry to you? I think dry air makes static build-up likelier.”

“It’s just you.” Sungyoon watched you curiously, glancing over to see that Soonyoung had started watching, too. 

Soonyoung watched the way he slowly reached for a pad of sticky notes, jotting something out. Then he reached forward, attaching it to the top of your monitor. You swatted his hand away, eyes flickering over to see Soonyoung just as he turned his attention back to his own work. Yet the moment he was sure you were looking away, Soonyoung glanced over to see you pulling the sticky note off the monitor. How had he avoided you this long…? Something about getting too close to you made his chest all fluttery. Had he really started crushing on you so easily? Then again, you kinda did make it easy. You were cute in your own ways, and it made it hard to focus most days. Now all he could think about was what Sungyoon had written to you. 

He’d stretched himself over Vernon’s couch that night, playing with a little feather toy that his soulmate’s cat (Nutmeg, apparently) seemed to love. She pounced at it again, and Soonyoung had, yet again, been rambling about his work adventures. 

Vernon plucked another fry from Soonyoung’s leftovers. “Dude. Kinda sounds like there’s something there.” 

“I don’t know,” Soonyoung said. “Maybe I’m being silly. I should ask them out sometime, but they’re still new. It feels weird to do it so soon.” He paused, watching as Vernon slowly began to reach for another fry. “If you’re hungry, then eat. I’m fine.” 

With permission, Vernon immediately pulled over the rest of the leftover fries. “I mean it, dude. Why wait? You like them, they seem to like you, just go for it.” 

… Maybe he would.

But probably not today. Soonyoung had woken up late which, thankfully, wasn’t too bad considering he didn’t live too far from work. Jihoon had been in the kitchen, sliding over a plate of toast when Soonyoung booked it from the room.

“You have that meeting—”

“I know!” Soonyoung grabbed two slices. He’d shove them into his mouth on the run over. “I know—I set an alarm!”

Jihoon looked up, already annoyed, “I know. It woke me up.” 

He’d make it up to him later. He yelled back a casual “love you!” to Jihoon, who only groaned in response, and booked it to the stairs. No elevator today: the complex’s elevator sucked most days, and Soonyoung always reserved it for when he was coming home rather than heading to work. He’d pulled on the wrong pair of shoes considering he had a meeting today. He needed to look nice, and he did, mostly. These were the ones that were a little too broken in, having lost traction against the office floors, and they’d lost their shine a bit. Maybe no one would notice? Hopefully no one would notice. He didn’t need anyone making a comment… or you to think less of him. Were you the kind of person who cared about that kind of thing? He hoped not. As long as you were presentable, Soonyoung wouldn’t think any differently of you. 

He burst through the front doors of the building, yelling out to where you and Sungyoon had just boarded the elevators. He saw the way the two of you looked surprised, eyes wide and brows raised as Soonyoung booked it across the lobby while no one else seemed to think much of it. It was far from the first time this had happened, to be fair: it happened back when he was new, and it kept happening every so often since. Soonyoung, unfortunately for everyone else, was the kind of person who could be loud when he needed to be. Which was good for him, because Sungyoon had taken pity on him and held the elevator doors for him. Soonyoung’s hair was standing on end now. Fuck, when did the building have such a bad problem with dry air? 

Shit, fuck, the floors were against him today. In the split few seconds he had, he’d tried to yell for you to move aside so he could crash against the elevator walls, yet his brain seemed to have turned to pudding. He felt this subtle pull forward, which he once thought was gravity as he nearly tripped over the elevator threshold and into you.

Only for sparks to fly. Literally fly. Sungyoon had crumpled to the floor in pain, howling about ‘what the fuck was that?!’ while Soonyoung only felt this warmth wash over him. You’d been shoved against the elevator wall and were clutching the back of your head (shit, fuck, he’d check on you once his brain caught up to him). Wait.

Wait. Sparks flew. 

You…?

“Dude, what the fuck?” You’d pushed him away, hand still clutching the back of your head. 

Immediately, his brain had finally started fully functioning again. “Shit!” He stepped forward, trying to get a closer look at the back of your skull. No bleeding or visible bruising, but what did he know? “Are you okay? Did you get hurt? I’m sorry, I tried to stop, but—”

“What the fuck was that?!” Sungyoon was still on the elevator floor. The doors slid shut after a moment. 

Quietly, Soonyoung hit the button for the correct floor, just to get things moving. “I… I, uh…”

You stared at him, slowly connecting the dots. “Oh.”

“Did… Did it hurt you?” Soonyoung shyly asked, only to realize he’d been vague. “The sparks.”

You shook your head. “No. But—” You looked at Sungyoon. “Sungyoon, are you okay?”

“I’ll live,” he pulled himself back up. “Of course he’s your soulmate. No wonder you two wouldn’t stop staring at each other…”

Soonyoung had felt a pull toward you, but… He always thought that was infatuation fueling that feeling. There were so many things he’d already wanted to ask you, and yet it felt… weird to say them with Sungyoon there. Were you like him? Had you given up on soulmates even though you wanted one? Or did you not care that Soonyoung was your soulmate? Would you have still liked him if he wasn’t…? He felt like he would have liked you either way, but he would never know for sure now. Then again, maybe he could be okay with not having that answer. If he got to know you better, then he could be happy. Neither of you spoke for the ride up, and he could see Sungyoon debating stopping this elevator ride early to give the two of you space.

Thankfully, he didn’t. But he did book it off the elevator once the doors opened, leaving the two of you two step off together.

“So…” You were a little quieter than normal, never quite looking at Soonyoung for too long. “We’re soulmates.”

He nodded. “Is that okay?”

That earned your attention faster than anything else. “Of course that’s okay. Why wouldn’t that be okay?” 

“I just thought that…” You didn’t seem happy. Then again, he barely knew you.

You shook your head. “Just because I’m used to not having a soulmate doesn’t mean I’m not happy it’s you. I already thought you were cute, so…”

Soonyoung shyly smiled at you, hand brushing against your own. It was enough to get you to stop and face him. “I know we have a meeting soon, but… There’s a little place across the street we could go for lunch. It’ll be my treat, if you want—”

“I’d love to,” you smiled. “I’ll look forward to it, soulmate.”

Soonyoung watched you walk ahead of him, smiling to yourself. Suddenly, he felt a new sense of confidence wash over him as he watched you go. He’d only known you for so long,  but something told him that choosing you was going to be the easiest decision he’d ever made.

(And when he told Jihoon that night, he’d called Jun and Wonwoo immediately to send him the money he’d just won for betting that Soonyoung would figure it out sooner rather than later.)

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @staranghae @porridgesblog @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny @bewoyewo

[nhlclover]

wish you were sober | mark estapa

summary: you finally get the romantic attention from your childhood crush but you just wish he was sober when he kisses you.

request: yes / no

warnings: drinking, angst, kissing

a/n: based on ‘wish you were sober’ by conan gray. first mark fic🤭love this man

word count: 2.05k

“I really don’t want to go.” You groan.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, looking at your friend standing at the end of the bed. Mark stomps his foot like a child, crossing his arms. You toss your head back with laughter.

“You throwing a hissy fit doesn’t make me want to go more.” You tell him.

Mark, your childhood friend, was attempting to convince you to go to a party with him. Most of his friends were busy, hanging out with their girlfriends or studying. So you were his next option.

At least that’s what you’d convinced yourself was the case.

Ever since you met in grade school, you’d had a crush on Mark. He was the boy next door type. He was loved by all his peers and he made everyone smile, especially you. He always made time for you, running around the neighbourhood with you. You were convinced your parents had paid him to be friends with you because there was no other logical explanation for why Mark spent so much time with you. But he did.

Over the years, the pair of you stayed close. You went to high school prom together, homecoming, and was even your date to your cousin's wedding. However, all platonically. All as your best friend.

Your crush grew stronger, although Mark shared none of the same feelings. But you were happy just to have him in your life.

You remember the first time Mark kissed you. It was at a party while in freshman year of university. He was drunk. But you didn’t stop him.

His lips were so soft. Softer than you ever imagined. His hands felt like they were made for you the way you fit perfectly in them. Then the next morning, when you met for breakfast, he said nothing. It was like all the kissing and the touching never even happened.

It took a couple of times to realize that was a common theme with Mark. He only ever kissed you when he was drunk. If you ever hung out when you were sober, he was back to being the same Mark that hung out with you by the creek on Sunday afternoons.

But at parties, his hands were on your waist, walking behind you to the nearest room with a lockable door.

You recognized how potentially unhealthy this was for you, your childhood crush only giving you romantic attention whenever he was drunk. But you were getting attention from the guy you’d liked since you were 8, so you took it.

A smile forms on his lips as he flops onto the bed beside you. You tip your head to look at him. Mark is looking up at you. He has no distinct look on his face, not even his stupid puppy eyes he likes to do. Yet you find yourself caving into him.

You sigh, dropping your head back to the pillow and looking up at his ceiling. “Fine.” You huff.

“Yay.” Mark grins. His smile. It makes you weak in the knees and causes the butterflies to take flight.

That’s precisely what you don’t want. You shoot up from the bed, grabbing your bag from the floor.

“I uh… I gotta go.” You blurt out.

Mark's brows push together. “Why?”

“I… gotta change and get ready. I kinda look like a mess.” You chuckle.

“What do you mean? You look great.” He says, getting up and standing in front of you.

The smell of his cologne becomes strong. You step back, worrying that it might be brainwashing you. “Mark, I’m going to change.” You state. “Text me when you’re picking me up.”

You leave his place, going back to change into a more presentable outfit. A few hours later, Marks outside your place in his Range Rover, honking wildly. You run out, hopping in the passenger seat.

“You need to chill.” You laugh.

“You were taking too long.” He rebuttals.

Mark pulls away from the curb, speeding off in the direction of the party. When you pull up, you see people spilling out onto the front lawn of a frat house, with people on the front steps making out. You already know this won’t be an enjoyable party but you know you’ll stay for Mark.

You get out of the car, following Mark inside. The house is packed, so Mark grabs your hand making sure he won’t lose you.

“Hey, man!” Mark says to a tall guy in the kitchen.

“Wassup Estapa?” He says. They dap each other up, asking each other how they are.

“Oh, here you go man.” The guy says. He reaches into a cooler on the island, handing Mark a Bud Light.

Mark doesn’t hesitate to crack it open, chugging half of it in just a few seconds.

“Who’s this?” He asks, motioning to you.

“This is y/n,” Mark says, pulling you in front of him, his hands landing on your waist. “Friend from the hometown.”

“Nice to meet you, y/n, I’m Chris.” He smiles, sticking out a hand to shake.

He’s cute, got small dimples when he smiles, and is most definitely another student-athlete. You swear Mark was only friends with other athletes.

You chuckle, shaking Chris’s hand. “Nice to meet you too.”

Suddenly your skin longs for Mark's hands as they leave your hips. He’s walking out of the kitchen, towards a group of people calling his name.

“So what program are you in?” Chris asks.

You make small talk with him for the next little bit, talking about hometowns and hobbies, but Mark’s location lingers in the back of your mind the whole time.

“It’s been great getting to know you, but I should probably go find Mark. Make sure he’s okay.” You say.

Chris laughs. “I think Mark’s doing just fine.”

Chris points past you, into the rest of the house. You turn around, scanning the room for Mark. You finally spot him, standing in the living room, across from a redhead. She’s giggling, a hand on his bicep, as he’s swapping cups with her. He takes a sip of her drink, pulling a sour face as he swallows. He says something that makes her laugh.

The sight in front of you tenses your heart, feeling like someone took a knife and stabbed it into your chest.

You excuse yourself from Chris, turning around, and heading down a hall, finally winding up in a bathroom. You enter, locking the door behind you. Tears prickle at your eyes and you find yourself laughing at the sight.

Who cries over a guy they’re not dating? Let alone the guy who only likes her when he’s drunk?

You wipe the tears from your cheeks, stepping out. You couldn’t take this much longer. Walking back down the hallway, you spare one last glance at Mark who is downing whatever was in the redhead’s cup. You roll your eyes continuing out of the house. Mark spots your familiar figure speed walking out of the house. He excuses himself from the redhead, chasing after you.

“Woah, y/n!” He calls after you. You stop and turn to face Mark. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going home.” You tell him.

“Why?” He asks.

“Because I don’t want to be here anymore.” You say.

“What? Why?”

You go to answer but someone cranking the volume of the speakers makes it hard to hear over the top of 21 Savage's voice.

“C’mon, let’s go somewhere the music isn’t loud.” Mark says. he guides you through the house and out into the backyard where it’s significantly quieter and less crowded, safe for a few couples making out and some people smoking.

You cross your arms, waiting for Mark's argument about why you should stay. Mark gives you a small smile, his lazy, drunken eyes scanning your face.

“You look really pretty.” He says.

You roll your eyes, preparing to push past Mark and leave him in the dust. However, he grabs your hips, stopping you from moving.

“You wanna leave? We can leave.” He says. You sigh, looking up into Mark's eyes.

His sweet, soft brown eyes make you feel like you could look into them for days. His stupid, genuine eyes, make you believe every last word that comes out of his mouth.

“Thank you.” You say softly. “But you’re not driving.”

You grab the keychain sticking out of Mark’s pocket, nabbing the keys too. He chuckles, sticking his hand in your back pocket.

He leans in, pressing his lips to your cheek. “You really do look fucking amazing.” He whispers in your ear.

You push him back slightly, walking around front to his Rover. He stumbles slightly so you wrap your arms around his torso to stabilize him.

You open the passenger door, helping Mark into the seat. He sinks into the seat, his head resting back against the headrest. You step up into the car, reaching over to buckle Mark in.

He suddenly leans up, cupping your cheek in his hand, pressing his lips to yours. The temporary feeling of bliss almost makes you want to forgive him for only acting when he’s drunk. His soft lips are gentle, but not sloppy, briefly making you believe he isn’t as drunk as you thought he was.

But you pull away. At the end of the day, he only does this when he's drunk. “Let’s go home.” You say.

You get in the driver's seat, pulling away from the frat house and driving to Mark's place. He cranks the volume of the radio, singing along to Cruel Summer. Half the words mould into one another, him slurring every second syllable.

You pull into his driveway, turning off the ignition. You climb out, going over to the passenger side to help Mark out of the car. He trips getting out of his seat, leaning his weight on you. You get him to the front door and attempt to open the door, only to have Mark pull your hand off the handle.

He pulls you into him, you hitting his chest. He wraps his arms around you, resting his hands on your lower back. “You should stay over.” He suggests.

You laugh, shaking your head. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” He asks.

“Mark…” You sigh.

He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to one side of your neck, then leaning over and kissing the other side.

“Mark.” You say again.

“I love it when you say my name.” He whispers.

He works his way up your jaw, peppering your skin with kisses. He slows down when he reaches your face, kissing the side of your mouth before pressing his lips to yours.

It’s like almost every other kiss you share. It sends a rush of energy down your spine, your core heating up on command. His hands trace down to your ass, lightly squeezing it. You find yourself instinctively kissing back.

Mark has this effect on you where no matter how many times you say to yourself no more, you always find yourself back wanting more.

But the pang in your chest, when you remind yourself that this is seemingly nothing more than a drunk habit for Mark, makes you push away.

“Mark.” You say, your stern tone coming out clearly. You wriggle out of his grasp, stepping back. “I can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” He asks.

You groan in frustration because how does he not see it? “Doing this dance that we do. Where we go to a party, get drunk, and then hook up.” You say. “But then in the morning, I’m nothing more than your friend from back home.”

He sighs, looking away. “Y/n-”

“No, Mark.” You say. “I’m done with this.”

You step down the stairs, onto the walkway.

“Y/n, please come back.” He says. “This is just a…a misunderstanding. I do like you, please.”

He comes down the steps, stopping in front of you and grabbing your hand. “Please, I… I think I was just too scared to admit my feelings.”

You want to believe him, but it doesn’t even sound like he believes himself.

“Mark this is real sweet and all but… I just wish you could say that to me when you’re sober.” You say.

You give his hand a squeeze before walking down the road towards your dorm.

[bgwlsmahf25]

Dark Coloured Dress

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x gn! reader; Wanda Maximoff x gn! reader (platonic); Tony Stark x gn! reader (platonic)

Warnings: alcohol; y/n is drunk; painkillers; little bit of angst and upset but otherwise all fluff

Summary: What happens when you drunkenly admit your feelings to your best friend?

a/n: hehe. There's a happy ending I promise!

Everyone knew that you and Natasha were joined at the hip. You spent every second together and when Natasha went on missions, you stayed in her room, curled up under the duvet with one of her hoodies on. But you weren’t together. You were constantly correcting people: ‘oh, we’re not together, she’s my best friend’ although nobody believed it. You wished it was true, you’d had a crush on the red-headed spy ever since you first met her and your love for her had only grown the more you got to know her.

“Hey Wands, have you seen Nat?” you said, wandering into the kitchen. The witch looked up in surprise. “You haven’t seen her?” You rolled your eyes. “No-o, that’s why I’m asking. Look I know I’m supposed to know her every move but she’s a spy and a really good one at that.” Wanda laughed. “Try her room. She was in there earlier.”

You knocked on Natasha’s door but there was no answer. Opening it, you stepped into her room, looking around. She wasn’t there but you spotted her clothes flung on the bed and a dark coloured dress lying beside them. Your breath caught in your throat as you examined it. The thought of her having a date made your heart clench painfully and you inhaled sharply, turning away from it. “Nat?” you called out, the words sticking in your throat.

“In here, angel.” You headed into her bathroom, finding her soaking in the tub, mounds of bubbles hiding her from view, for which you were eternally glad. She had a book in one hand and her phone in the other, she was frowning down at it. You sat down on the toilet seat, bringing your arms around your knees and watching her with a small smile of amusement on your face.

“Whatcha reading?” You gestured at the book, and she looked up, smiling as she caught your gaze. “That sappy romantic one you suggested. It’s not that good.” You sighed. “Of course you don’t like it. Um, question?” She laughed and put the book down, dropping it onto the floor by the bath. “I never said I didn’t like it. I just think the plot could be strengthened a bit. What’s your question?”

“The dress...” you murmured, thinking of Natasha having dinner at a fancy restaurant with a handsome stranger. The thought made you want to throw up and you looked away.

“Oh, you don’t like it? No matter, I’ll get another one.”

“Um, what, no. I – I think it’s great, you’ll look stunning in it. I just – what's it for?”

“The fundraiser?” She tilted her head to one side, studying you with an intense gaze. “Tony’s charity thing.”

“That’s tonight?!” you yelped. Tony had been planning the event for months and everyone was expected to attend. There were rumours the mayor was going to show up. “Nat, why didn’t you tell me earlier!” You dashed out of her bathroom to go and get ready, her laughter following you.

***

“Y/n? Are you ready?” There was a knock on your door. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, come in.” You were putting the final touches to your hair, making sure it stayed out of your face. Behind you, the door opened and Natasha walked in. You caught sight of her in the mirror and spun around, jaw dropping as you took her in.

She had the dark coloured dress on and black heels. Her hair was swinging free, tumbling down her shoulders and chest in red waves. She laughed as she caught your astonished gaze, her lips lined with a deep red lipstick. “What’s that face for?”

“I - I just, I mean...” you closed your mouth, “you clean up well, Nat.”

“Thanks, angel. So do you, you look fantastic.” There was a smirk on her face and you turned back to the mirror, struggling with the last hair grip. “Here, let me.” She put her purse down and took your hair into her hands, pinning it back expertly. You stared at the desk, unable to meet her eyes in the reflection. “Ok, are you ready?”

The music and noise got louder as you got closer. You gripped Natasha’s hand and she squeezed yours. She knew that Tony’s parties made you anxious, ever since Ultron had gate crashed one and wreaked havoc.

“Hey you two... you look amazing,” Wanda said as you approached the bar. She had a red cocktail dress on and was sipping a drink, winking as she caught your eye. You gave her a shaky smile and she pulled you in for a hug, “You look stunning,” she whispered in your ear. “Natasha can’t keep her eyes off you.”

You laughed and protested weakly, your voice faltering when you noticed Natasha’s intense gaze on you. She ordered drinks and handed yours to you, your fingers brushing as you took hold of the glass.

“Romanoff, Maximoff, y/n.” Tony materialised beside you, looking impeccable in a suit, slightly tinted glasses resting on his nose. “Romanoff, a word?” Natasha glanced at you and you smiled. Taking that as her answer, she nodded at Tony. As she walked by, she leant in, planting a kiss on your cheek. “I won’t be long.”

“Oh my god...” Wanda breathed, and you shushed her. “She is smitten.”

“No, she’s not!” you laughed. “She’s my best friend.”

The witch nodded. “That’s how the best love stories start.” She glanced around at the party. You watched as a faint blush spread over her cheeks and turned to see who’d caught her eye. “You’re blushing. Something you want to tell me, Wands?”

“Not particularly,” she muttered. “I - need to go find someone. Talk to you later?”

“I want all the details,” you answered, sipping your drink. You continued to sit at the bar, enjoying your drink and trying to relax slightly. You spotted Wanda on the dancefloor with Yelena, Kate and Maria Hill. Further away from the dancefloor, Natasha and Tony were in deep conversation with the mayor of New York and a bunch of men and women in smart attire. You kept your gaze on Natasha, watching the way her hands moved as she talked. As though sensing your gaze, she turned her head, catching your eye. You smiled, and looked away, failing to notice her stopping her conversation and beginning to walk towards you.

“Hey. How are you doing?” Her voice was gentle but you still jumped, relaxing when you realised who it was. “I’m actually kind of enjoying myself,” you said, taking a sip of your drink.

“How many of those have you had?” she said concerned. You smiled at her, feeling happy and relaxed. “Y/n, are you drunk?”

“Getting there,” you murmured. “C’mon, I'm not that bad.”

“Ok. Stand up.” She bit her lip as you got to your feet and wobbled, reaching for the counter to steady yourself. “You’re drunk. Come on, I'm taking you back to your room.”

You started to complain then leant forwards against the counter, your head resting on the cool marble. “This feels nice,” you sighed. Natasha put an arm around your waist, helping you upright and then you started to make your way to the door.

***

You were half asleep by the time you reached your room. Natasha sat you down on your bed and pulled your shoes off, sighing as you fell backwards against the sheets. She pulled you into a sitting position and made you drink a glass full of water and take painkillers before helping you into pyjamas and then into bed.

You lay against your pillows, watching as she closed the curtains and headed to the door to dim the lights. You, however, thought she was leaving, and a tear slipped down your cheek, your arms reaching out towards her. “Nat. Stay. Please don’t leave me.”

“I’m not leaving, angel.” She dimmed the lights then kicked her heels off and came and sat on the edge of your bed. “You need to sleep.” She wiped the tears off your cheeks. “Why are you crying, darling?”

"I can’t talk about it,” you murmured. This made her frown, and she repeated the question in a gentle tone. “Y/n, you don’t have to hide from me. What’s wrong? Did something happen at the party?”

“No.” You thought about Natasha in her dark coloured dress, laughing and talking with the mayor’s son and more tears slipped out. You thought about how you’d thought she was going on a date, and you started to cry harder.

“Y/n. Hey, angel, talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Please don’t go on a date with anyone that isn’t me,” you sobbed, rolling over and burying your face in your pillow.

There was a beat of silence then a hand stroked your shoulder. “Ok,” she replied softly.

***

You woke up the next morning with a sore head. A glass of water was sitting on your bedside table, and you gulped it down thirstily. Your eyes fell on the pair of heels by the door, and you smiled, recognising them as Natasha’s. Then you frowned. Why were they in your room?

You reached for your phone and saw several texts, mostly from friends asking about the party. There was also one from Wanda.

hope the rest of the evening went well ;)

You frowned again, wondering what she meant. Did something happen? You panicked and opened your message thread with Natasha.

What happened last night?

There was a pause then three dots appeared. She was typing.

You're awake. I'll come find you

As you headed to the shower, you missed her next message:

If you’ve seen the news, I can explain. It's not what you think

By the time Natasha found you, you were in the kitchen, drinking coffee and munching on toast. Your eyes went wide as you caught sight of a news headline, suggesting dating rumours between Natasha and the mayor’s son.

She stepped into the kitchen and you shot out of your seat, holding your phone up so she could see the headline. “What is this?”

“Y/n...”

“Tell me this isn’t true!” you said, your voice breaking slightly. “What did I miss last night?”

“It’s not true,” she said quickly. “Y/n, I swear it isn’t true. They just got a few photos last night and it makes it look like-”

“What? What does it look like?” you said, tears beginning to fall down your cheeks. “Are you dating him but can’t tell me? What’s going on, Nat?”

“Y/n,” she replied firmly. She took a step towards you, but you stepped back. “We’re not dating. I'm not dating anyone. I promise.”

Your breath halted. “Then why...?”

“Because they know I like someone, they just don’t know who it is.”

You stared at her, your heart ripping into a million pieces. She liked someone that wasn’t you. Your best friend liked someone and hadn’t told you. “I - what? And when was I going to find out?” you answered bitterly. “I thought you told me everything, Nat.”

“I do tell you everything,” she whispered desperately.

“Obviously not!” you shouted and stormed out of the kitchen, pushing past a surprised and confused Wanda.

***

There was a knock on your door. “Go away, Nat.” Silence then another knock. “Nat, I said go away!”

The door opened. “You’re still calling me Nat, so you don’t really want me to go away. Can I come in?” You sighed and turned to face your best friend. She looked hesitant. You sighed and nodded, she came in and shut the door. “I can explain.”

“I really hope so,” you replied, sounding defeated.

“How much of last night do you remember?” she said cautiously. “Of what actually happened?”

“Nothing. I remember nothing.” You sighed. “I guess I was drunk and based on that, I probably said something, didn’t I?”

“You were drunk.” She slowly sat down next to you on the bed. “We came back here to your room. You were crying, I asked what was wrong, and you said, ‘Please don’t go on a date with anyone that isn’t me.’ And then you fell asleep.”

You stared down at your hands, fingers twisting over each other, heart racing. Had you really said that to her? You remembered the dress and assumed she was going on a date and how upset you’d been.

“Y/n. Look at me.”

She probably hated you for saying that. Why had you said that? What was wrong with you? Why did you have to declare your feelings when you weren’t going to remember it?

“Y/n. Please look at me?”

You swallowed and raised your head to meet your best friend’s gaze. She was smiling – wait, she was smiling?

“I don’t want to date anyone who isn’t you,” she whispered.

“Why?” you stammered.

“Because you’re the only one I want to date.”

“What?” In answer she leant towards you, her hand resting on your cheek. “Can I kiss you?” Speechless, you nodded, and she closed the distance, brushing her lips against yours in a sweet, soft kiss. You eagerly kissed back, making her smile against you.

She eventually pulled away and you smiled at each other. “Y/n, can I take you on a date?”

“Yes,” you whispered, smiling broadly at her. “Yes, I’ll go on a date with you.”

“It’s you that I like,” she said. “That’s what I meant earlier. I like you, angel.”

“I like you too, Nat.”

[froggywritesstuff]

not so sweet 16th | rise!leo

ship/pairing: Rise!Leo x g/n!reader (can be read as platonic or romantic)

fandom: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

warnings: crying, breakdowns, fear of growing up, definitely ooc but it could've been worse, slightly proofread

word count: 896

A/N: incredibly self indulgent, i had this exact breakdown the night before my 16th birthday a few months ago 

Leo sat up in his bed when he saw the message notification from you, his face screwing into an expression of worry as he read your text. It wasn't unusual for you to invite him over in the evening or at night. He didn't have to worry about someone seeing him if it was dark. But it was almost midnight, far later than any time you would've normally invited him over on a school night. He hurried out of his bed and texted that he'd be there soon. Slipping out of his pj's and grabbing his ōdachi, he wasted no time making a portal to your room, praying that his portalling skills wouldn't let him down. He breathed an audible sigh of relief when he recognised your room, but the relief disappeared as quick as it appeared when he saw your shaking body hidden under a blanket on your bed. He approached you cautiously, his heart sinking as he heard your quiet sobs.

"Hey," he says quietly, sitting on your bed beside you, "Everything ok?" most of your face was hidden by the blanket, but he could see you looking down at your lap, your hands holding onto your phone so tightly he was worried it would crack into pieces in your hands.

You just shake your head, tilting your phone screen his way and showing him a timer counting down with only minutes left. Leo saw it and the time on your phone clock and instantly knew why you were upset.

”Is this about your birthday?” he asked despite knowing the answer.

You nodded, swallowing nervously “I’m not ready to be 16.” he watched as you finally turned your head to face him, your tear filled eyes meeting his as the blanket fell onto your shoulders, “I’m scared, Leo.”

Leo wrapped his arm around your shoulder, wanting to be as comforting as possible while trying to figure out what exactly was wrong, “What… why are you scared?” he asked, his voice as soft as it could possibly be.

”Because,” you breathed out, wiping your eyes, “15 to 16 is basically the transition from people treating you like a teenager to a young adult. People start expecting you to start thinking about adult stuff, like driving, and university, and it’s ok if you don’t know what you wanna do after school but also you should definitely know. And… I’m just not ready to stop being a kid.”

Leo felt your head lean on his shoulder, small tears beginning to drip onto his skin. “All this adult stuff, it sounds scary. But it doesn’t mean you have to stop being a kid. At least around us anyway.”

”In two years I’ll legally have to stop being a kid.” you spoke, your voice thick with tears.

Leo chewed the inside of his cheek, thinking before speaking, his hand rubbing small circles on your shoulder, “Well anytime you wanna get away from the law, you can call me, or Donnie, or any one of us, and you can hang in the lair with us. We won’t call the cops on you for watching cartoons made for kids, or falling off of a skateboard.”

Your body shook with a small laugh at his words, “Shut up, I don’t fall off anymore.”

A smile grew on Leo’s lips as he heard your laughter, “Oh you definitely do.”

”Well with a teacher like you…” you trail off, suppressing a smile as you hear Leo’s offended scoff.

”Wowww. Not even my age and you think you're better than me." he drawled teasingly, though his words held no ill intent.

His words drew a sigh from your lips, and your head tilted down to your phone screen, "Two minutes."

Leo's smile fell as he saw your entire demeanour change. He took a breath, before gently placing his hands on yours, slowly pushing the phone away from you, "Look. I... I know you're scared about all this, which I get, I'm not tryna tell you not to be. But I don’t think watching that will make you feel any better.”

”Yeah…” you huff, putting your phone down, bringing your hand up to wipe the tears from your cheeks, “you’re probably right… do you have any other ideas?”

Without another word, Leo stood up from the bed, unsheathing his ōdachi and proceeding to wave it around, making you hold up your arms as a shield. With a slight woosh and a faint glow of the colour blue briefly illuminating your room, Leo turned to face you, his once proud demeanour suddenly defeated at the sight of your arms up in defence.

”Do you have no faith in me?”

At the sound of his voice, you rested your arms and shrugged at him, “There have been many portalling incidents before, you can’t blame me for being cautious. Also is that cake in your hands?” you changed your tone at the sight of the dessert in his hands.

”It is.” he sat back down, making sure to hold the cake up high above his head so you couldn’t reach it, “Unfortunately, it’s only for kind people who don’t mock me.” 

You frowned, "You can't make an exception for me? The soon to be birthday kid?"

Handing you one of the two forks on the plate, Leo sighed, the corners of his lips tilting upwards slightly, "Just this once."

[orikiys]

✿ ✿ 〞 voicemails with han on your wedding day

✰ pairings: bsf!han x fem!reader

✰ genre: angst, fluff if you squint and romance

✰ word count: 1.3k+ words

HAN | chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | felix | seungmin | jeongin

one 𖨂

first off, i’m sorry i made you cry like that. i’m sorry that i intentionally hurt you even though i didn’t mean to. i guess it’s time to spill the beans, huh? it’s been what– like 6 years now? 6 years of constantly pining over you. 6 years of falling in love with every bit of you. and 6 years of watching you fall for several people and get your heart broken. i’ve seen it all. lived it all as well, right by your side just like always. it wasn’t easy of course, watching the love of your life kiss someone else, hug someone else or cry over stupid exes who didn’t deserve you. but i did my best to hold it in. but now . . . i don’t think i can. i love you so much, more than you’ve ever now and more than you ever will. your fiancé is lucky. he truly is. for being able to marry a girl like you in less than a few hours. and you must be wondering why i’m sending you these voicemails 3 hours before your wedding. well it’s because you don’t have your phone with you right now as you’re very much busy, which is a golden opportunity for me.

two 𖨂

i hate you. so so much. i hate you so much for making me feel this way. i hate you so much for running through my mind the entire day. i hate you so much for making me feel all excited and giddy whenever you smile at me, but your eyes. . . they have love. not the romantic one, the platonic one. and that’s what hurts me the most. i even thought of telling this to you earlier but i couldn’t. not when our friendship of 8 years was at stake. never. nothing is more precious than that. but sometimes i do wonder whether your heart used to beat fast when i stood close to you. or whether your cheeks used to feel warm when i touched you. did it ever happen to you? i guess not. how could you love a guy like me? you, who are literally the perfectionist and me who learnt from you. doesn’t match right? i wished it did. i truly wished it did.

three 𖨂

i never lost hope, you know? instead i clung onto it until the very end, which is today. i hoped for you to fall in love with me little by little. and even though you couldn’t reciprocate my love for you, i wish we tried. but i fall in love with you a little bit more day by day. and now my heart is swelling with immense sadness that it even hurts to laugh without letting out tears of pain. it hurts to see you smile knowing i’m not the main reason anymore. i’ve become a side one. and it hurts to see you so excited for your wedding. and i hate myself for that. i hate that i can’t even pretend to be happy for my best friend who finally found true love. best friend. that’s all i mean to you right? nothing more, nothing less. but i don’t blame you. i could never. so i hope he doesn’t hurt you ever. because i might not be sufficient for you whether it be now or 10 years later. just know that.

four 𖨂

as i stand wearing my tuxedo, i wonder how it would look to have your arm linked with mine. to have your eyes shining with joy, for me. but that can never happen, can it? i see the way you look at him. the way you talk about him. and when you’re angry at him, it hurts me even then. oh, how i wish i could be him. standing by your weeping side and wiping your tears. or perhaps, holding you in my arms under the moonlight. it sounds heavenly doesn’t it? at least it does for me. which is the exact reason why it isn’t real. and i can’t imagine what would happen after you hear these. just don’t hate me please? i beg you. it took me a lot of courage to say this. and i would die if i ever knew that you hate me. your man, he’s perfect in every way. i tried to find any flaw but there isn’t one. he’s madly in love with you too but not longer than me, try to beat that. he gifts you all his love and never his anger. he treats you like a delicate vase, if handled improperly, you might break. he engulfs you in his love and you can practically drown in his eyes with the amount of admiration it contains for you. all for you, my angel.

five 𖨂

i’m back, hiding in the bathroom as i speak. your wedding just ended– and i don’t think i could see you two kissing. i’m so sorry angel. so so sorry. i didn’t want to be that bad friend who falls in love and starts acting as a homewrecker. never. i’m so sorry for falling in love with you. if only i didn’t look at you while you were doing my makeup, this wouldn’t have happened. i danced with you although, and when you asked why i was getting emotional i could only smile with tears. this was the last time i held you like i loved you. the last time i twirled you, and the last time i caught you. because now, i’m throwing away that hope from my life. and i’m letting you go now, my love. i promise. i won’t ever try to love you again the way i did and i’ll punish myself if i ever do that once more.

six 𖨂

at times i even thought i don't want to love you anymore. you tore my heart out in the summer and tossed it aside with a carefree laugh and that crooked smile, before sauntering off to meet your new partner before classes began in the autumn. i don't want to flinch every time i hear your name escape someone’s mouth. i don't want to keep getting hurt every time a memory flashes in my mind like a blaring siren, a loop of playful moments and the moments where i fell deeper. i want to not care about you anymore. i want to be perfect strangers, but i couldn’t just not care when you knocked on my door at 4 am, drunk and a sobbing mess, i just took you in my arms. i held you for hours till the moon disappeared, replacing itself with brightness. not for me. not when you couldn’t even remember how i cared for you or how we went back to being best friends. maybe it was selfish of me to for the night knowing you saw my worth only in your drunk state. but it was enough for me. you were enough for me. and my heart shattered every time knowing i wasn’t.

seven 𖨂

i’m finally letting you free, from the love i had buried deep in my heart. i wish you a happy married life, my angel. and i’m sorry but i will be leaving tonight. i’m going away for a while. for good. and even though i have many excuses i won’t tell them to you. i need time. away from you. away from those feelings that keep bubbling out just by hearing your laughter. i know i’m late. very late in fact. but could you try and not hate me for this? please? it’ll be my last wish before i go. and now, suddenly, everything seems like a goodbye. the last dance, the last hug, the last smile, the last kiss on my cheek and the last moment where i add a full stop to this unrequited love of mine. congratulations angel. though i wished i could call you mine.

[strniohoeee]

Can I request a Matt x childhood friend reader, like I’m talking since diapers. But like everyone knows they like each other I’m talking EVERYONE 😭. But they’re both oblivious asf.

Oblivion

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N could not fathom the idea of being in love with Matt. It’s been shoved down her throat by her mother her whole life, and she’s never agreed. But one night she starts to think, and things take a turn🌙

Warnings⚠️: NONEEEEE, hope you enjoy tho🫂

Song for the imagine: Mind Over Matter- Young the Giant

You know you’re on my mind?

And if the world don’t break

I’ll be shakin it

Cause I’m a young man after all

Being an only child makes some people think you have it hard. You know since there’s no one you can really run to other than your parents. However I’d beg to differ.

I have been friends with the triplets and their brother Justin since I was in a diaper. Our moms being friends since high school really made it nice for us. It was an automatic built in friendship.

We had a lot of play dates since I had no siblings and no immediate family my age. I looked at them as my brothers and Justin as an older brother.

Our childhood was so fun, often going up to the Cape with them for the summer since my parents had to work. I never ever felt alone. Occasionally bored when they went on a vacation my parents didn’t let me go on, but still never a dull moment.

Matt and I got the closest since we shared similar interests, but also we felt like the odd ones out. Most times sticking with each other because Nick and Chris had their own group of friends we didn’t really like to hang around with.

My mothers always told me Matt was my soulmate whether it was romantically or platonically. She always said I gravitated towards him the most since we could crawl. I often cringed at this statement because he was like my brother.

I think I gravitated towards him the most because we liked a lot of the same things, and we were more reserved than Nick and Chris. We’d always get the same gifts because well like I said, we liked the same things. After a while our parents only got us one thing we’d both liked so we could share. Like vinyls for our record players, movies, CDs, and even accessories like hats and even rings.

I didn’t think Matt was my soulmate per say, especially not romantically. I mean sure I had a crush on all three of them at one point, but that’s totally normal. I got over it quickly. I even had a crush on Justin, and he’s 7 years older than us. I mean what’s not to like? He was a cool 17 year old with nice clothes, a cool bike and a new phone. To even be in his presence made me nervous. But like I said I got over those crushes quickly.

By the time we got to high school I’d say I never thought of any of them in a romantic way. They were gross teenage boys and I looked at them as stinky brothers. Matt had a lot of trouble attending school, so we didn’t hang out much till we all got home.

I found myself looking for him in the hallways, at lunch and even next to me when the seat was empty. I felt like I started to like him again, but quickly those feelings died down when I had a fair share of experiences with some boys at our school.

Matt really hated the guys I talked to, and I wasn’t sure why. By senior year we had our first argument over a guy I was dating. He told me he’d hurt me and use me, and I was so blind to it that we got into a fight. I didn’t speak to them that whole summer, and to my surprise that guy was a complete asshole like Matt said he was.

I went to a local college while the triplets focused on their YouTube career. After that summer ended I decided to make up with Matt because I really missed my best friend. I swear best friend breakups are worse than breaking up with a significant other.

We were all 18 and living our best lives as the four again. Spending every second of every day together. I tagged along with them while they filmed and did some things around the city.

I had finally gone home after being at their house for 2 weeks straight. Going from campus to their house and back stopping at my house to shower and change, but that was about it.

“Holy shit she’s home” I heard my dad say as I closed the front door

“I know I know the celebrities back home” I said nodding my head

“Where have you been?” My mom asked laughing

“Well to school and then the triplets and then back to school” I said

“I’m about to tell Mary Lou to let you stay there and charge you rent” my dad said

“Ahaha veryyyy funny” I said sitting down across from them

“You and Matt seem to be doing good” my mother said

“Yeah we’re good now” I replied back

“Sooo did you admit your feelings to him yet?” My mom asked

“Feelings?” I said furrowing my brows

“Yeah…you like the kid and he likes you it’s pretty obvious” my dad said laughing

“I don’t like him, and he doesn’t like me we’re just friends” I said crossing my arms over my chest

“Mmm I don’t know about that he seems like a love sick puppy” my mom said

“Yeah whatever” I said laughing

“Even their mom says it. Just confess already you guys are madly in love” she said

“What? Mom don’t be crazy” I said shaking my head

“You better admit to these feelings soon because that boys following you around like a guy under a love spell” my dad said

“You guys are being insane I’m going to bed” I said rubbing my temples

I went to my room and laid in my bed. My hands crossed over my stomach as I fiddled with my thumbs.

In love? No I couldn’t be.

Matt is my best friend, and that’s all.

Well I mean…..he is really handsome, sweet, and funny even though he says he’s boring which he isn’t. He’s super caring, always putting others above him.

He’s always there for me, he loves watching chick flicks with me and reading sad love stories. He loves my poetry that I write, always helping me make it better…..

I mean I couldn’t like him….right?

But then I started thinking

Friends don’t offer you their jacket if you’re cold, they don’t hold your shoes for you when your feet hurt, they don’t pick you up in the middle of the night because you’re sad, they don’t take you on Long Beach walks at night, or take you out to eat and pay EVERYTIME……..they definitely don’t watch romance movies and read sad romance books when you know they hate it. I mean, could he like me back??

No of course not, don't be irrational Y/N….hes just a very very nice friend is all.

My heart started to race and my breathing quickened. I shot up in my bed and looked into the darkness of my room.

Was I in love with Matthew?

The boy who would wipe his nose on me

The boy who would trip me to make his brothers laugh

The boy who would walk by and steal some food from my plate

The boy who would crack a joke and look at me to see if I’d laugh

The boy who waited for me in the rain when I was fighting with my ex

The boy who made me smile

The boy who made me look for him in everything I did

Holy shit…..

I AM IN LOVE??? WHAT THE FUCK???

I began to panic because of course I had boyfriends, but that was because I was bored. I’ve never loved a guy I dated

But for some reason I am in love with Matthew?

Cursing myself out internally because my mom was correct, and so was Mary Lou.

Suddenly my thoughts stopped when I heard something hit my window.

I jumped up from my bed and slowly walked over to my window when small pebbles hit the glass again causing me to flinch.

I looked out the window and to my surprise I saw Matt standing in my lawn??

Was this a cheesy 80s film? Where’s his boombox? And the stupid sunglasses?

I opened my window

“Matt it’s 1AM what are you doing here?” I said in a whisper

“I was bored” he said back

“You were bored? You could’ve texted me” I said raising an eyebrow

“Well yeah…” he said scratching the back of his neck

“Tell me the real reason you’re here” I said giggling

“I also miss you” he said smiling like a dork

“Miss me? Matt you’ve never said you missed me a day in your life” I said leaning on my palms as I look down at him

“Yeah I know, but I don’t know I just have been seeing you for so long that I guess I just really miss your presence” he said laughing a bit

“I’m loving this little Romeo and Juliet moment we’re having” I said laughing

“Oh shut up you know you missed me too” he said trying to throw pebbles up at me

“Mmm I’m not too sure” I said shrugging my shoulders

“And you left your lip gloss in my room” he said digging in his pocket

“That could be one of your girlfriends” I said laughing

“What? No….there's never girls in my room but you” he said pulling the lip gloss out

“Mmm how do I know you’re not lying” I said

“You’re the only girl I know who has used this same exact strawberry lip gloss since we were in 7th grade” he said showing me the gloss

“Alright you win” I said rolling my eyes

“And I never bring girls home” he said again

“I got the point Matthew just say you’re in love with me already” I said laughing playfully

“Not if the feeling isn’t mutual” he blurted out

“What?” I said shocked

“You heard me… Y/N I have been in love with you since we were 10, and if all my gestures haven’t made it possible. Then me standing out here on your lawn embarrassing myself at trying to say I love you better work. If I have to scream it to the world I will” he said swallowing thickly

“I….I” I could not form a sentence

“I’m sorry….this was wrong oh so wrong” he said shaking his head and turning around

I backed away from the window and ran down the steps to my front door.

I swung the door open and walked out and saw Matt walking away back to his car.

“Matthew! Don’t go” I said loudly

He turned around and looked at me stopping in his tracks

“I have been ignoring this feeling for far too long. Everyone around me is telling me how I feel and how you feel about me. I was so scared to open my eyes and realize that you may have been the one for me since forever. I never sat down and thought about it until tonight. When I replayed many interactions in my head. And I couldn’t wrap my head around why I’ve never loved any of my past boyfriends, and that’s because Matthew I’m so madly in love with you” I said breathing heavily

Matt walked over to me and crashed our lips together. I won’t lie, I have kissed plenty of guys before, but I’ve never enjoyed the kisses. I’ve never gotten butterflies or felt my face flush with heat. It had always been matt and it took me so long to realize.

His lips disconnected from mine as his thumb ran over my cheek staring into my eyes.

“I always wondered how many more time I had to watch The Notebook with you before you realized I was so in love” he said laughing

“Oh shut up” I said rolling my eyes and laughing

“God I’m just so in love with you” he said looking at me

I began to blush and looked away

“Will you be my girlfriend?” He suddenly asked me

My eyes snapped to his and my heart began to beat faster

“Yes Matt, yes I will” I said smiling

He smiled at this too and crashed our lips together once more.

That night I snuck Matt into my bedroom, and had a feeling that wouldn’t be the last time I’d do that.

We spent the night watching The Notebook and talking while we cuddled into each other's arms eventually falling asleep.

How could we both be so oblivious this whole time?

The End

I hope you guys enjoyed this one🥹🤞🏽. I’m at 1,410 followers which is MADNESS?? Like what???? I love yall so freaking much🥺🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

[onas-batlle]

sacred new beginnings

pairing: lucy bronze x ona batlle

warnings: none

synopsis: after finding out that ona hasn’t gone on a proper date in years, lucy offers to take her out on a couple of purely platonic dates. just to get the anxiety out of the way, of course. why else?

a/n: i know people voted for this fic to remain an x reader, but i couldn’t bring myself to not make this about lucy & ona, so I edited it a bit! unsure if i will publish an x reader version of this because i’m not really bothered, but we shall see 😊 i also have no idea if there is a lake for fishing in barcelona, so suspend your belief for a bit please!

Ao3 Link

———

There’s no time to feel more out of the loop than when one’s circle of friends discusses their romantic escapades, and that was exactly how Ona felt as the number of dates she had been on recently was a big, fat zero. Being basically married to her job did not allow for many dating opportunities, and truthfully, once the Spaniard finally slowed down enough to even think about finding some romance - the lasting kind, not that friends with benefits type - the extent of her fame quickly quashed those chances. She found the increased attention rather overwhelming and quite frankly scary, and women only wanting her for her celebrity meant that a genuine relationship was not in the cards at the present.

Come to think of it, she wasn’t even sure she really wanted to play the dating game; the horror stories heard from teammates often causing her to recoil in her chair – Bruna’s about a date bringing their mother along and then having an allergic reaction to the shrimp still fresh in her mind. The last time she had even attempted a romance had been with Felicitas Rauch, and that had ended before it had really even began. She’d been basically celibate since then, and apparently, this was borderline unheard of, if the yell of Mapi León was anything to go by.

“What do you mean you haven’t dated in years?” Mapi questioned, the drinking of her coffee abandoned as she turned to gape at Ona.

“I don’t know, just haven’t really gotten around to it,” she shrugged, cheeks turning hot as she noticed the eyes of most of her club team on her. A certain pair of sparkling hazel eyes trained on her made her flush even darker, if possible, and she averted her eyes as quickly as she could. Despite her obvious discomfort, Mapi pressed on. “Not a single date or nothing?”

“Eh, had a fling with Feli for like a month before it kind of- “

“That was over a year ago, amiga. And from what I heard, you didn’t even go on a proper date,” Patri butted in, and Alexia smacked the back of her head as she regarded the Spanish fullback’s embarrassment at that statement.

Seeing the slightly pitying looks from her teammates, Ona went to speak, but before she could scramble together a sentence to alleviate the embarrassment, Lucy chimed in. “What’s keepin’ you from datin’ now?”

Ona paused, mulling over the reasons in her head before settling on an answer. “I guess I’m kind of nervous about dating again. I don’t even know if I can still flirt.”

A poor reason, admittedly, but better than revealing to her team about her anxiety around her sky-rocketing fame post-World Cup. At least she could attribute that excuse to everyone else’s constant anecdotes about bad experiences within the dating realm.

“Everyone is a bit awkward at least once, chiqui. There’s no reason to be nervous,” Alexia said soothingly, shooting a glare at Mapi who snickered a little at the fullback’s answer. After fixing Mapi with her own pointed look, Ona let out a sigh.

“I know, but I can’t help but feel that way, sabes?” That was met with an understanding silence from her team before Lucy slammed her hand on the table and shot up out of her seat.

“I can do it!” she boomed, a smug smirk on her face.

“¿Qué?” came the response from around the table, everyone furrowing their brows at what Lucy just said. Seeing the confused faces of her teammates, she slowly sat down again and cleared her throat before beginning to explain her genius plan.

“Think about it, Ona hasn’t gone on a date in ages, right? And she’s nervous about the awkwardness that will come along with it. If she goes out on a couple of fake dates with me, and I make it as horrific as possible, then she can get those bad date experiences out of the way, and get used to going on dates again! What do you say?”

With that, Lucy mimed an explosion with her fist and glanced around the table to garner people’s reactions. Mapi was nodding in agreement, Alexia’s brow was furrowed in contemplation, and Cata just looked thoroughly confused. Flicking her eyes towards Lucy, Ona saw the Lioness staring at her expectantly.

Truthfully, it was lowkey an awful idea, but Ona supposed that it would help her get the ‘back on the dating scene’ jitters out of the way and would allow her to spend some time with Lucy, who she shamefully had nursed a small crush on for a while now.

“Okay.”

“Okay?!” came someone else’s shout, but Ona was too focused on Lucy’s determined pump of the fist to locate where the protest came from.

“That was easy,” Lucy spoke into the Spaniard’s ear as she gathered her into a crushing hug, and grinned at Ona once she let go. “I will see you on Wednesday for Bad Date #1.”

There was nothing she could do but nod.

---

It was only when Ona was sat on the boat that the regret came rushing in, narrowing her eyes at Lucy who was fiddling with the fishing poles a few metres away. It was not a secret that she had a strong dislike for fishing, the smell of the bait, the unstable feeling of floating on water in a boat the size of a tin can, and the gleam of the fishhooks bringing her back to the disastrous fishing trips with her father and older brother.

Many days were spent in a small fishing boat, with her father’s disappointed sighs being the soundtrack to her disgust at the dead fish that surrounded her, and a lurching stomach created by the movement of the water below. She supposed this is why Lucy chose it for Bad Date #1.

“Chin up, darling. Let’s get ready to catch some big fish!” Lucy thrust a fishing rod at Ona, shocking her out of her memories and with a little bit of grumbling, the younger woman begrudgingly took it, Lucy’s face lighting up in a smile at her behaviour.

Following her lead, Ona attempted to bait her hook with a particularly fat mealworm that still wriggled between her fingers. Maybe it was poor timing, but a small movement from Lucy caused the boat to shift suddenly, and Ona’s hand got caught on the sharp point of the fishhook. She let out a hiss of pain and went to go suck the wound, forgetting that she was clutching a slimy worm in her hand until she was practically eyeball to eyeball with it. Not exactly expecting to be so up close and personal with a mealworm, Ona let out an almighty scream and tossed it away.

To her horror, instead of plopping harmlessly into the water, it found it’s way to Lucy’s lap. The older woman’s scream echoed around as well, and Ona had to stifle a grin as Lucy turned to narrow her eyes suspiciously at the Spaniard.

“Having trouble with your bait?” Lucy questioned and held up the worm Ona had sent flying in her direction, the initial shock having worn off and leaving behind an expression of amusement.

“I hate you Lucia Roberta,” Ona grumbled, swatting away the mealworm that Lucy had now started dangling in her face.

The older woman just laughed and dropped the bait back into the bucket, deciding that teasing Ona in the middle of a bloody lake was not a good idea. “Oh, you don’t really. Plus this hasn’t been too awkward now, has it?”

“I suppose not. I feel too sick to be awkward.” Ona did look a bit pale, and she quickly sucked in a breath and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force her breakfast to stay down in her stomach where it belonged.

“Just try and focus on the fish, not the boat swaying.” Lucy advised, placing a warm hand on Ona’s shoulder. If she had been anywhere other than a small boat swaying in some water, Ona would have blushed, but she currently found herself rather preoccupied.

“Lucy, I don’t think you understand that the smell of the fish is also making me feel very sick,” she gritted out, clenching the seat she was sitting on with a white-knuckled grip.

“Look, I have some spare plastic bags if you need one, okay? Here, I’ll rebait your hook and we will try again.”

Ona opened her eyes and nodded grimly, accepting the plastic bag Lucy had in her outstretched hand and the newly baited rod. Once both of them had finally settled, casted their lines and were waiting for a bite, they began to chat a bit about Ona’s life with United in Manchester, and Lucy’s experience in Barcelona before Ona had come home and rejoined the team. Slowly the Catalan felt herself beginning to feel less ill, her teammate and friend doing a great job at distracting her from the situation that the Lioness herself had put them in.

After a half hour or so, they were interrupted by a tug on Ona’s line, and the Spaniard looked at Lucy with wide eyes. “What do I do?”

“Reel it in?” Lucy responded, grinning a little at Ona’s alarm.

“Mierda, it’s very strong!” Ona spoke as her muscles flexed, trying incredibly hard to reel the fish in. But the stupid thing absolutely refused to budge, the fish at the end of the line fighting for it’s life to remain in the water. A particularly strong tug made Ona almost fly into the water, and pleaded with her eyes for Lucy to give her a hand.

“Here, let me try.” With that, Lucy abandoned her line, and shuffled closer to Ona, the Spanish woman suddenly finding her senses overwhelmed with everything Lucy.

The press of her warm shoulder against Ona’s, the positively intoxicating perfume that she had on, and the fact that she was close enough that Ona could see the small sun spot close to her right eye had the Catalan so captivated that when the English woman said something to her, Ona jumped in shock and accidentally dropped the rod that she was holding.

The both of them watched as the rod got tugged away by the fish who was no doubt celebrating being free, before it eventually came to a stop a few metres away and floated, still, on top of the water.

“Lo siento,” Ona grimaced, biting her lip in embarrassment. She half expected Lucy to growl at her, but instead the other woman’s face split open in a wide grin, and she let out a laugh.

“That was one of funniest things I think I’ve seen in my entire fishing career.”

Ona glared playfully at the English defender before picking up a paddle. “We should go retrieve it, no?”

Lucy nodded and picked up the other paddle, the two of them slowly steering their boat towards Ona’s rod. Soon they were almost close enough to reach it, but suddenly Ona stopped her movements and frowned at something in the water just ahead of them. Lucy turned to look quizzically at her fellow defender, and nudged Ona in the side when she saw the slightly worried expression her face.

“Lucia… is that.. a shark?” Ona squeaked out, pointing at a grey shape that lurked in the distance.

Lucy squinted, trying to gauge what it was, but Ona had already begun to panic a bit, despite the fact that sharks were most likely not residing in a random lake in Barcelona.

“I don’t think-” Lucy managed to squeeze out but Ona had already snatched the rod out of the water and was now frantically moving her paddle as quickly as possible.

“I don’t care! Row, please Lucy,” the smaller woman begged, sending Lucy such a look of genuine fear that the Lioness just bit back a smile and placed her own paddle into the water to guide them back to shore.

Once they two of them had made it safely back onto land with Ona looking slightly green with fear and motion sickness (“Lucy, I’m not kidding it was a shark!”), the Spanish fullback took a few steps on shaky legs before collapsing into Lucy’s side, who wrapped her arm around the other woman’s waist to prevent her from falling over.

“Not a very successful trip, huh?” the English woman spoke, gesturing to their very empty cooler where the fish they caught was supposed to go.

“No, but at least we were not eaten,” Ona replied before checking her watch and looking back hopefully at Lucy. “I have 3 hours before my brother will be over, so would you want to go out for something to eat?”

“Well, considering the fact that we are currently fishless, and I don’t want to starve, I will accept.” With that, the pair made their way back to Lucy’s car, equipment in hand and chattering the entire way.

“What have you got planned for Bad Date #2? Might be hard to beat this.”

“Just wait and see, Ona. Wait and see…”

---

As soon as Ona stepped foot in the mini golf course and made eye contact with the tacky pirate ship that resided in a murky fake pond, she let out a groan and immediately turned on her heel. Lucy was quick to grab the smaller woman by the shoulders, however, and strong armed her towards the counter, the Lioness wiggling her eyebrows at Ona in amusement.

Saying that Ona hated mini golf was an understatement. She could stomach regular golf from all of the times that her friends had dragged her down to the nearest course, but to shrink the clubs and add on a bunch of screaming children made the experience almost unbearable. Plus, it was hard. No wonder Lucy chose this as a bad date destination.

“Can’t believe you brought me to a mini golf course of all places!” Ona complained, glaring daggers at the brightly colour obstacles scattered about everywhere.

“It’s only mini golf, Ona. The only people who are gonna witness this are like ten,” Lucy laughed while paying at the counter and motioning for the Spanish woman to select a ball colour.

“Well ten year olds can be very mean,” she retorted back, selecting a bright green one and pretending to throw it at her as the English woman pretended to collapse to the floor, wounded. With a yellow ball in hand, Lucy steered her towards the first hole and gestured for the younger woman to go first. “Aye, c’mon. Let’s see if you’re as good at mini golf as you are at football.”

After flipping her the bird and earning a very scandalised gasp from a nearby mother, Ona lined her body up to hit the ball and… missed. Lucy let out a bark of laughter from behind her and Ona turned to shoot her a glare, feeling the heat of embarrassment crawl up her neck as she puffed in annoyance at the English woman’s smirk.

“Forget being a World Cup winner, we’ve got a future mini golf world champion on our hands.”

“Why would they make golf, which is already hard by the way, even smaller?” Ona replied, disgruntled. Lucy, bemused but unsympathetic to her complaints just grinned before yelling “Swing again!”

To Ona’s credit, she did. But unfortunately, her club flew out of her grip and hurtled a few metres away, spinning just clear of a small child who toddled around another hole. Turning back to Lucy, the Catalan saw her bent double in laughter, unable to keep it in after watching Ona fling her club into the air. Seeing Lucy smile caused the corners of Ona’s mouth to turn up slightly, but she quickly tampered down the fondness that had begun to sneak its way into her heart.

“Ha, ha, very funny,” Ona deadpanned while she collected her club, wincing apologetically at the parent of the toddler she almost took out and traipsing back to Lucy who had managed to compose herself.

“How about I give you a hand, aye? So you don’t accidentally maim any more children.”

“I’ll have you know that I didn’t actually hit him,” Ona responded, blowing a rather childish raspberry at Lucy, “but I’ll take you up on your offer.”

She wasn’t too sure what the Lioness had meant by giving her a hand, but as Lucy dropped her own club to the ground and made her way towards Ona, the Spaniard eyed her cautiously. Wrapping her arms around Ona, Lucy let out a huff of laughter as the smaller woman tensed at the unexpected physical contact.

“Here, hold the club like this.” Lucy’s breath tickled the back of Ona’s neck as her warm hands grasped the smaller woman’s and left her slightly breathless, cheeks heating up for what felt like the thousandth time that day. Slowly Ona allowed herself to relax, opening herself up to the other woman’s guidance and moved where Lucy wanted her to stand. She felt herself almost mourn the loss of the fullback’s warmth as she released Ona from her hold, the slight autumn breeze making the lack of her body heat more apparent. Ona could blame her flushed cheeks on the cold, of course, but a feeling stirring in her gut begged to differ.

Shaking herself from those traitorous thoughts, Ona steadied herself to hopefully hit the ball accurately this time, Lucy’s cheers making its way into Ona’s ears.

“Don’t swing as hard as before. Give it a light tap,” came the encouraging advice from the defender, and Ona took a final breath in, not unlike one she’d take before a rare occasion when she would have to convert a penalty kick.

Ona heard the whoosh of the club through the air as she swung before she felt it make hard impact against something solid.

Clearly, she had overestimated the distance Lucy had put between the two of them, and instead of softly hitting the ball like she was advised to, Ona had swung the club back as far as she could, and had ended up smacking Lucy hard in the shin.

“Ow, fuck!” Lucy groaned, clutching her leg. “My legs are literally my money-makers, Ona, and you know my knee is hanging on by a string.”

“¡Dios mío, Luce! Are you alright?” Ona rushed towards her in horror, praying that she hadn’t given the Englishwoman an injury that could cause a premature retirement or one that would leave her benched for months. As the Spaniard bent over to peer at Lucy’s face, Ona could see that it had lit up into a shit-eating grin, the contact not as bad as she had originally thought.

“Ay, don’t scare me like that, idiota!” Ona growled, smacking Lucy on the shoulder as her thundering heart began to slow again.

“For a world-class athlete you sure are clumsy. Almost as bad as Less!” Lucy chuckled as she straightened up, before gesturing for Ona to take a fourth attempt at the ball. “Don’t worry about me, just focus and swing gently.”

“Missing the ball three times, accidentally throwing the club away, and now hurting you will definitely win for worst date ever,” Ona muttered as she went to take the shot, yet again. Her comment was met with a wry smile from Lucy. “That’s what we’re here for, no?”

For the next few hours, the both of them made their way from hole to hole, with Lucy expertly navigating the ball past the obstacles and Ona bumbling her way through them. It was positively infuriating how good Lucy was at everything, but every time she sunk the golf ball into the hole and shot a cocky smirk the Spaniard’s way, Ona’s insides turned to mush. Her own skill only improved marginally, but the more mistakes that were made, the more she and Lucy were able to relax into some comfortable teasing. Somehow, even when faced with the activity of her nightmares, Ona felt as though she was able to get into her stride and even start to enjoy herself a touch.

They were now down to the final hole, and while Lucy had given Ona a very thorough and obvious beating, the Catalan was determined to at least win one round. Whether it be pure, stupid luck, or what Ona will say later was complete and utter skill, the ball rolled into the hole after one single hit. Lucy didn’t care how it happened. All she cared about was that the other woman had actually just gotten a hole in one.

“You fucking did it!” she yelled into Ona’s face, as surprised as every single human being on the course that she had managed to pull that off. Everyone else had, after all, been witness to her poor attempts to golf for the past few hours.

“Sí, I did!” Ona shouted back, but the only thing she could focus on, even in the wake of her own sporting brilliance, was the cheeky sense of pride and fondness that was painted on Lucy’s excited features.

Not dissimilar to how she has done on the pitch, Ona hurled herself at her, Lucy tossing her club to the side in anticipation and catching the Spaniard with an unexpected passion. Tightly gripping her t-shirt, Ona could feel the other fullback’s rippling muscles under her fingertips, and as she gazed into Lucy’s elated face, she had to take a nervous swallow.

Lucy spun Ona’s body around, almost whirling into, but narrowly avoiding a treasure chest that had been bolted into the ground, and the only thing Ona found herself wanting to do was kiss her. So she did.

Even though the Spanish defender had just spent the past few hours humiliating herself in front of Lucy in the worst way possible, the English woman kissed Ona back with a similar joy, warm hands finding their home on the backs of Ona’s thighs. Lucy’s lips were as soft as Ona had always envisioned them to be, and a part of her soul seemed to sigh with contentment at the contact.

For a moment it was like it was only the two of them in the world, the screams of kids, chatter of people, and tweets of birds fading into the background. All Ona could register was the grip Lucy had on her thighs, the way their bodies fit together perfectly - almost like two pieces of a puzzle, and the way Lucy’s tongue teased the seam of her lips, making her head spin deliciously.

Soon they both had to draw back from the kiss, air becoming a necessity, and Ona leant her forehead against Lucy’s with a smile. After a few beats, the Lioness buried her face into her neck, and Ona felt Lucy’s mouth curve into a grin.

“My champion.”

Those two simple words had Ona’s heart beating a million times faster, and Lucy laughed at the feeling, but as she mindlessly walked them backwards, she lost her footing and sent the both of them stumbling gracelessly right into the man-made lake smack bang in the middle of the mini golf course.

The two of them let out a pair of matching god-awful shrieks at the sudden feeling of icy water, but they soon dissolved into peals of laughter at the utter absurdity of what just happened. Blind to the judging stares of the public around them, Lucy sent a small splash Ona’s way, which soon became a fierce splash battle as the Spanish woman - not one to lose a fight - sent tidal wave after tidal wave straight into Lucy’s face.

“Oi, you got that in my bloody mouth!” she groused playfully, and attempted to tackle Ona to the ground, the pair still floundering in the dirty lake. Unluckily, or luckily in the case of everyone else, a disgruntled staff member hauled the both of them rather unceremoniously out of the water and escorted them to Lucy’s car. Turns out Pablo did not care that Ona had won a World Cup before, and slapped the both of them with lifetime bans. If Ona celebrated the fact that she could never be dragged back to play mini golf again, then that was no one’s business but hers.

Despite being sopping wet in the middle of a carpark, Lucy in Ona’s eyes looked positively radiant. Droplets of water shone on her eyelashes, and her shirt clung to her body, showcasing every curve and harsh ridge of her musculature. There was no denying that she was mouth-wateringly attractive, nose ring glinting in the sun and lips turned up in a cocky smirk. Her eyes had also started to carry out their own appraisal of Ona’s shorter figure, and she shifted awkwardly from foot to foot at the way Lucy’s hazel eyes seemed to pierce into her soul. Her intense gaze made Ona feel as if the Lioness could peer into the very depths of her psyche, and quite frankly, that kind of intimacy scared her a little.

“What a, how do you say? What a freaking disaster,” Ona spoke, a timid attempt to break the heightening tension between the two of them.

“Guess I delivered on my promise on a second horrific date,” came the response, but they both knew that was far from the truth. The older woman’s dimpling smile and shining eyes undid all of her efforts to make that a bad date, and in a rare moment of honesty, Ona allowed herself to accept, if only for a moment, that she was falling in love with Lucy Bronze.

Following her small hum of agreement, they both fell silent again, just taking in each other’s presence. Ona tried to dull the burst of emotion that had welled up in her, but Lucy’s hand cupping her jaw and brushing away a stray smear of mud caused the Catalan’s breath to hitch and sent her efforts flying out of the window. Heart pounding unbearably fast, Ona broke away from her grasp and heard Lucy let out a sigh. “Gotta get you home now. It’s bloody cold.”

Ona nodded at her words and they both slipped into Lucy’s car, Ona apologising profusely for drenching and muddying the English woman’s car seat. The ride back was nice, the conversation light-hearted and easy, however it was impossible to deny the suffocating tension hanging in the air between them. As they pulled up to Ona’s house, Lucy turned to face her, and Ona noticed her gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“Guess you’re ready to go out and date new people now, huh?” Lucy spoke, a tinge of sadness lacing her words despite the small smile she shot Ona’s way. The Spanish fullback sent back a half-hearted grin back. “I guess so.”

The car was silent for a second. “I think I should be getting inside. I’ve got a meeting tomorrow.”

The only thing Lucy could do was say a quick “see you later” before Ona clambered out of the car and made her way to her front door. Pausing, Ona turned back to look at the car and caught a glimpse of Lucy staring at her with an unreadable expression on her face. It was only after she had let herself in that Ona finally heard Lucy’s car pull away from her house, and she finally allowed herself to collapse against the door, countless thoughts running through her head.

She was well and truly fucked.

--

It had been two weeks since her mini golf ‘date’ with Lucy, and Ona was just about to embark on her first proper date in literal years. As she stared at her own reflection in the mirror, Ona couldn’t help but mourn the fact that her feelings towards the English fullback were likely to remain unresolved. Things between her and Lucy had been rather stilted after that day, the only words exchanged being as mundane as asking for the time or to pass the salt. Truthfully Ona felt kind of hurt at Lucy’s indifference, but in all fairness, she hadn’t exactly tried to talk about that kiss either and instead had opted to ignore her, so it wasn’t fair to put the blame on Lucy. Maybe Ona was just doomed to be alone forever.

Shooting a glance at the clock and seeing that it was time to go, Ona swiftly brushed her hands once more over her outfit, checked her makeup, and grabbed her keys before heading out to the restaurant.

The girl Ona was going on a date with, Elena, was a friend of Alexia’s girlfriend, and her captain was adamant that this was a match made in heaven. Smart, funny, and a passionate Real Madrid hater, Alexia had also mentioned that Elena was accustomed to hanging around with footballers, so Ona didn’t have to worry that she was trying to date her for her five minutes of fame which was something that Alexia too has had some experience with.

The initial part of the date was nice, Ona thought, both of them just getting the small talk out of the way and getting to know each other, the two of them bonding over their shared love of a musical artist. The food was adequate as well, and much to Ona’s relief, Elena did not have an allergic reaction to the shrimp, nor did she bring her mother along like Bruna’s horror date. Things only took a turn when Elena hit her with a completely unexpected question.

“Who is she?” Elena spoke, “The girl you’re in love with.” Her query caught Ona incredibly off guard, and the only thing she could get out was an awkward stammered denial, which she knew was thoroughly unconvincing to even the most gullible of people. The expression on the other woman’s face wasn’t angry however, instead a soft look of sympathy painting her face as she placed a hand over the footballer’s.

A beat passed before Ona hung her head and decided to spill her guts to her date. “She’s my teammate at Barcelona and I’m pretty sure I ruined it because I’m so awkward. We kissed and then I ignored her the day afterwards which means that she definitely hates me, and not only have I lost my chance with her but I’ve also lost her as my friend, and now we are going to lose all of our games and then the Champions League because I think that if I have to go on the pitch with her again I will throw up. She even made me have fun mini golfing and everyone on Earth knows that mini golf es el deporte del diablo and that I absolutely despise it with my entire being... except for when I was playing it with her.”

Elena thoughtfully listened to Ona small spiel before offering her a gentle smile.

“I know I don’t know her, or the extent of your situation, but something tells me that she won’t be opposed to your affections. My advice? Go find her. Tell her how you feel. The worst thing she could do is reject you, and from the little that I’ve heard, she definitely won’t do that.”

“You really think so?” Ona said, feeling a little hopeful at her words.

“I do.”

“Okay.”

Ona sat there awkwardly until Elena laughed and motioned for her to get up. “What are you still doing here? Go!”

“Now?”

“Sí, now!”

Taking in a shuddering breathe, Ona strengthened her resolve and stood from her seat, slightly more invigorated. “Okay, I will. And I’m sorry for running out on you like this.”

“Ay, not the worst date I’ve been on. Good luck out there,” she grinned, and Ona felt a sense of overwhelming appreciation for the woman across from her. Maybe in another life they could have become something, but right now, all she wanted was Lucy.

“Gracias. Truly,” Ona responded before slapping several bills down on the table. “Dinner is on me by the way.” And then she was hightailing it out of the restaurant.

Ona found herself pounding on Lucy’s door before she had even registered that she had no idea what she was even going to say to her. A wave of doubt passed through the Spaniard as she wrung her hands on the doorstep, and thoughts of escaping to the comfort of her own home to down a tub of ice cream were getting increasingly more enticing. Those plans were short-lived however, because the door swung open and revealed Lucy who stared at her, her hazel eyes wide in surprise.

“Hola.”

She wanted to smack herself for that stupid opener, but Ona refrained from doing so as she could have sworn that she saw a corner of the defender’s mouth tilt upwards. Maybe all was not lost.

“Hola,” Lucy responded, and was quiet after that, silently telling Ona that the ball was in her court.

“You look well.” Nice one.

Lucy smiled properly at that one and decided to put Ona out of her misery a little. “You’re all dressed up. Hot date tonight?”

Ona didn’t miss the way Lucy’s grin became slightly strained at her words and felt a surge of confidence fill her heart, so she decide to take the plunge.

“Sort of. I- Look, Lucia, I’m sorry for how I treated you after our… kiss. I messed up and ignored you for like a week after, so now you probably hate me, and I can not blame you. I know we said that the dates were not real and for me to get over my nerves, but then I couldn’t help but start to pretend that this was real.” Lucy stayed silent, her expression unreadable, but her eyes were shining with something that made Ona’s stomach flutter, and she took that as a sign to keep going.

“The girl I was just out with, Elena, noticed something was off immediately, and so I told her that I love you. Because I do. And if I’m not wrong, then I think you like me too. If you do have feelings for me, I’m so sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner and spared us from all of this pain, because I’ve been stuck in this hole of sadness for the past couple of weeks. So por favor, just tell me that I haven’t missed my chance.”

“I love you too.”

Lucy’s response was quick, her words confident, and to Ona in that moment, she was sure that Lucy was the most beautiful person in the world. The small fly-away hairs that escaped from her bun, the freckles that were dotted across her skin, the stray eyelash that rested on the apple of her cheek, all made a rush of fondness spread throughout Ona’s chest.

With that admission, she tentatively reached out to rest a hand on Lucy’s jaw, and she leaned into Ona’s touch as her arms circled around the smaller woman’s waist.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Lucy breathed. Ona gave her a quick nod.

“I asked you to go on those fake dates hoping that you would give me a proper chance afterwards. I’ve liked you for a long time, you know?” she confessed, leaning in to brush her nose against Ona’s skin.

“You could’ve just said something instead of subjecting me to sharks and mini golf,” came Ona’s reply, but her tone held nothing but fond amusement.

“I still don’t think that was a shark,” Lucy, eyes crinkling in laughter as she thought back to Ona’s panicked paddling at the lake.

“I’m telling you, I saw a fin!” the younger woman protested, but there was no real fight in it, Ona long having accepted that she may have overreacted a touch. That didn’t mean she wanted to give Lucy the satisfaction of being right, though.

“So, how does Elena rank on the scale of bad dates. You must be an expert after both of ours, so gimme a number from one to ten. Spare no gory details,” Lucy smirked, her hands creeping up to place themselves firmly on Ona’s face, lips within a hair’s breadth away from the Spaniard’s.

“I think that was the worst date I’ve ever been on, because it wasn’t with you.” And hearing those words, Lucy kissed her.

[loveless-arobee]

I… have some thoughts and you have to bear with me on that one because I’m not sure how to word this.

I am currently plotting a novella mostly about sexual intimacy. And it made me think of how sexuality/sexual intimacy/even sexual love is viewed in most of society, but also specifically aspec spaces, and I wanted to talk about that.

Because you have romantic intimacy or love that is viewed as the most pure and wholesome, and sex is only an add-on to it; sex cannot exist as a good and moral thing without being paired with romance in the eyes of society.

In aspec spaces there’s a huge focus on platonic intimacy (or love), or queerplatonic/alterous/… intimacy; and some people begrudgingly agree that you could have sex in those relationships, but there’s almost always the assumption that having sex with your friends will wreck the friendship in one way or another. If no one falls in love, to redeem the sex you had with romance, you will stop being friends soon enough because that just can’t work. Or, in slightly more progressive views, that sex can too be redeemed by platonic/queerplatonic/… love same as it can be with romantic love. That’s not any better though. That just purity culture and sex negativity in a fancy new mask.

Sexual love and purely sexual intimacy cannot exist as a good thing. You are using people for their bodies, are an disgusting pervert and an abuser for having/wanting a purely sexual relationship.

Or a sexual relationship can exist, but it can never be as deep as real friendship and least of all a romantic relationship. A sexual relationship must mean you only care for sex and not the person you’re having sex with. Sexual relationships are inherently shallow and if you do care for the person you’re having a sexual relationship with, that care must come from platonic or romantic or any other type of affection. And if you say it doesn’t, you’re either lying about the nature of your affection or your emotions towards your sexual partner.

And idk. It’s… weird. Why can’t a purely sexual relationship be as deep, or even deeper, on an emotional level, than friendship or romance? Why are even people who say they’re against relationship hierarchies so against agreeing that this includes purely sexual intimacy? (I know it’s purity culture. But c'mon; we as aspecs should be better than this… right?)

Sex is always seen as a negative thing unless it’s paired with love—and even then it’s something neutral at best. And if the sex is the love for a person, that is either a lie or that person is a disgusting abuser. Because you can’t possibly love (or show intimacy/affection/care…) through sex and nothing else.

Sexual relationships can be just as emotional and invested as friendships and romance can be. They don’t have to, of course—this isn’t another try to redeem sex. Honestly, completely shallow sexual relationships between people who just meet up every once in a while to fuck and do literally nothing else with each other are also completely alright.

But people so often deny that there could be any emotional depth to purely sexual attraction that doesn’t actually come from another emotion—and that’s just wrong.

All this to say, let people define their own emotions and connections. Sexual intimacy is good, actually, and it doesn’t have to be "redeemed" by any other kind of intimacy beside itself.

I hope I’m making enough sense to understand.

[fictionobsession]

doubt

Pairing: Alastor x f!Reader

Summary: He wouldn’t give anything for her.

Word Count: 1,494

Warnings: toxic relationship, emotional abuse, manipulation, drinking, soulmate au…ish

A/N: alrighty friends so this is part 2 of devotion and uh… it’s rough. this is not a healthy relationship. I’ve got one part planned after this one. if you like happy endings, please just pretend that devotion had one part, okay?

--

She dutifully followed Alastor through the double doors into the smoke and dim lighting of Mimzy’s. It was early in the day, but as it was still Hell, the bar had a few patrons here and there. The pair approached the bar, where Husker was working on loan to Mimzy.

“My doe, please do stay here with Husker. I have some business to discuss with Mimzy. And if you do get bored, there are a few thugs in the abandoned building at the end of the block that could use dealing with. Oh, and don’t forget you still must go to the butcher, you know the one.”

“The one across town? But Al, there’s a butcher on the next street ov - “ She stops at the raise of his brow. “Of course, Al, I’ll go to the one in Cannibal Town. I know you like it better.”

He doesn’t acknowledge her again, turning on his heel to go into Mimzy’s office to discuss business.

“So how long has he been treatin’ you like that?”

She startles at Husk’s question, but relaxes upon seeing his genuine expression. “Like what, Husk?”

“You know what I mean. How long has he had so much control over you?”

A shrug was all she could muster. “Oh, long before I met him on Earth, I’m sure.”

She could watch Husker trying to figure out the phrasing for his next question, the confusion written plainly on his face. “How’d he own your soul before you even met him, in the living world?”

“Oh! Husk, no, he doesn’t – well, not exactly – he -” she focused her energy inward, a black cord coiling around her middle before snaking off to find Alastor. “He doesn’t own my soul, Husker. He’s my soulmate. Platonically, obviously, not the red string of fate, romantic nonsense.”

It was something she’d never seen in Hell aside from her and Al, but people could hide it, so she had to assume there were others. Based on the look Husker was giving her, though, it wasn’t something he was used to seeing either.

“O...kay… so you’re soulmates. Which means you… share in owning souls, right? If one of you two makes a deal, it’s automatically split between you?”

“Well it’s not like I asked to…”

“Uh huh, we’re coming back to that. But, that means your power is… equal to his. You’re an overlord. Why do you let him treat you like that if he doesn’t own you?”

“He treats me fine, Husk. He’s just – well. you know. He’s Al.”

“When was the last time he consulted you or even told you afterwards about a decision affecting both of you?”

Her lack of answer was answer enough for him.

“That’s what I thought. He doesn’t respect you. He’s using you, just like the rest of his little pets.” He spat the last word with such malice, she couldn’t help but wonder what Alastor was doing with the Sinners whose souls he owned. She assumed they all had decent jobs and responsibilities, like Husker and his bartending. She filed that question away in her mind to consider later.

She gave Husker a warning look, though. She couldn’t just let people refer to her as Alastor’s lapdog. But… that’s what she was, wasn’t she? When had he consulted her about decisions? Well, never, but isn’t that the way she had wanted it?

“I’m sorry, I just…” Husk allows himself to trail off when he realizes she’s no longer listening to him. He fills up her whiskey, her usual drink.

“Husk?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you make me something different? Something new?”

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding before mixing her a Tequila Sunrise and leaving her to her thoughts.

As she’s finishing her third drink, Alastor emerges from Mimzy’s office, and the day outside had turned to night. She hooked her arm through Alastor’s proffered elbow, allowing him to guide her out. She pretended not to notice the pitying look Husker was trying to hide from view.

When they stepped out into the night, Alastor finally acknowledged her. “And what all did you get up to while I was busy, my dear?”

“Oh, nothing really, just talking with Husker. He made me a new drink to try! It’s called a Tequila Sunrise.” Alastor wrinkled his nose at her description. “Oh, I don’t think you’d like it at all, Al, it’s very sweet. And I know you’re not a fan of… well, anything but bourbons and whiskeys really.”

“That’s nice, dear. Shall we head back home then?”

She nodded, and suddenly his shadows were swallowing them and depositing them back at Al’s radio tower. She said nothing as Alastor fixed himself a drink, turned on the radio, and made himself comfortable on the sofa. She stood motionless, watching him go about his business as if she weren’t in the room.

“My doe, why don’t you come sit?”

She shook her head slightly before glancing up, remembering that Alastor didn’t make real requests. He made demands framed as requests. She crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the sofa cushion, her back straight and tense, her eyes facing straight forward.

“My dear, what is going on with you tonight? You’re not yourself.” His tone gave away a concern his face would never.

She took a deep breath to steady herself, remembering that they were soulmates for Lucifer’s sake. She could talk to him. He couldn’t hurt her without hurting himself anyway, so they’d have to resolve anything like adults – with proper communication. Which, despite his life being in radio communications, Alastor was distinctly bad at.

“Al, do you actually respect me? Or am I just someone to run your errands?”

“Of course I respect you, my dear! I don’t keep people around if I don’t respect them.” Her eyebrow raised in disbelief. “Well, if I don’t respect them or own them, at least. Where’s this coming from?” His eyes were tense, his smile tight, as if he were clenching his teeth.

“You just… I’m never included in business deals. You’ve never taken me to Overlord meetings. People think I’m someone who made a deal with you, not someone who’s an equal partner with you.” She looked down shamefully, missing Alastor’s eyes briefly turn to the dials that signified his rising temper.

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to calmly respond. His tone was upbeat and his smile was wide, his eyes the only sign of his inner thoughts. “Why didn’t you just say so! I hadn’t included you in dealings because you’ve never asked! And I would never subject you to Overlord levels of danger and responsibilities if you didn’t want it, ma chérie!”

She looks up at him then, a soft smile not quite reaching the crinkles of her eyes.

“Did Husker make you doubt your place with me, my doe? I can take care of that. Permanently.”

All forgiveness she had been feeling in that moment vanished with the threat on her friend. Maybe her only friend, she allowed herself to think briefly. She jumped off the sofa, Alastor following her with a slightly panicked look on his face. Her eyes flashed green dials, shadows darkening the room, and green strings shooting out to tie everything together. She bared her teeth as her own antlers grew. “You will do – NO – SUCH – THING.”

Alastor took a single step back, his smile not quite faltering. She had never had the confidence to threaten him, not ever. He wasn’t even sure she had known she had that kind of power, let alone how to use it.

“Of course, of course! I wouldn’t hurt someone under your protection, I just wanted you to know that I will take care of any potential pests that would come between us! There’s absolutely no need to worry.” He started taking steps toward her, his hand outstretched.

The moment he touched her, she deflated, coming back into her normal calm state. “I’m sorry, Al. Just… don’t hurt Husker, alright?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t harm a fur on his fluffy little head.” He ruffled her hair, smiling softly down at her as exhaustion took over her features. “Now, I’ve got to do my show -”

“Can I stay and listen tonight?”

“Anything you want, my dear.”

She curled up on the sofa, watching Alastor, allowing her mind to wander to all the wrong places. She knew what he played on his radio show, but where did he get them? She’d never even thought to ask. He hadn’t really promised her anything, had he? Not until she showed her teeth.

She sighed, bringing his attention back to her for a brief moment. He flashed a genuine smile over his shoulder, the screams playing a perfect background to the scene as she brought her hand to the bit scar that had once made her feel so close to him. She watched him, not for the first time, but for the first time really looking for any clues about his true motivations and feelings toward her.

[badchoicesworld]

i hear you requested requests! ive got one!!

hobie x masc reader that's gwens older brother (ik its not canon, but the canon can fuck itself) (sorry miggy)

i dont really have anything in mind for reader's personality or whatever (so thats up to you!) but id like if reader liked to draw (thus ended up drawing hobie and got caught by him hahaha cliches i love them)

where hobie meets gwens older brother (you !)

hobie x masc!reader

this actually gave me hella ideas, im gonna link it to what happened in the movie (sorry it took a while, life fucked me)

didn’t specify if it was platonic or romantic (WHICH IS FINE ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥) so i’ve just done general shit for both lmao

warnings: none

pairing: hobie brown x masc!reader

requests: open, i cant let the demons catch me

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

when you first meet hobie you’re so very thankful to him for taking care of your little sister

if gwen managed to hide her being ghost-spider from your guys’ dad, then she likely hid it from you, too

but obviously, your dads gonna have to tell you why gwen didn’t come home one day

you’re crushed, naturally. likely furious at your own dad for literally firing a warning shot at her

might have ran away yourself, maybe hobie comes to your rescue too

or maybe you two meet while hobie’s dropping off his homemade gizmo for gwen, and you’re so unbelievably thankful for him and his generosity when you meet him

of course you will be, he took your sister in while you couldn’t do anything to help

hobie’s probably side-eyeing yours and gwens dad but is happy to get along with you if you’re gwens bother

he cant stay for long at that moment in time, got a multiverse to save and all that

but the brief interaction opens doors to many opportunities in the future

hobie gets to hear about the brief reunion between you and gwen from her, after she went back to her own dimension before it was show time

he becomes very intrigued by you

next time you two meet is likely after they save the multiverse (WHICH THEY WILL WITH ZERO CASUALTIES UNLESS ITS MIGUEL.)

BUT GENERALLY SPEAKING NOW

miguel definitely doesn’t approve of hobie using his watch to travel dimensions just to see you or gwen, still does anyway if he doesn’t just build his own

probably came to see gwen, pick her up to bring him to his own dimension, whatever

sees you instead, target acquired

hobie’s heard plenty about you from gwen, likes to think you aren’t strangers so is super friendly, overly even

catches you in your room, drawing in a well loved sketchbook

definitely does that thing where he just fucking appears behind you, he’s that quiet when walking despite the accessories

he’s looking over your shoulder while you draw silently, you might be too distracted to notice or you’re immediately started by him

smug asf when you finally catch on, is especially entertained if he’s caught you drawing him, god forbid

wouldn’t be surprised though, he likes to make people stare so is honestly complimented if you’ve been trying to draw him since first seeing him

doesn’t just snatch ur sketchbook and start looking through it though, unlike someone

as an artist, he gets it

you’re probably super protective over ur sketchbook actually because of gwen, smh

will probably banter a little bit about that, tease something about gwen that you’d both be victim to, like her tendency to borrow things without permission

find common ground yknow

“ain’t it a pain when she [gwen activities]” but you’re not being mean ur bonding it’s fine, we don’t slander gwen (i do however have some strong words)

starts hanging out with you on the odd chances gwen isn’t home, just casually in your room at first

starts off talking about your guys’ interests, seeing if you have things in common

probably listening to music together

the closer you get, he starts to actually travel dimensions just to see you

casually waves to gwen before ducking into your room

is happy to just kick back there, but is also happy to go out and do things at that point

the more you hang out, the more your dad and gwen begin to tease you- which is nothing in comparison to the shit hobie faces

gwen easily told everyone else about you two hanging out, he never hears the end of it now regardless of dimension

hobie starts using the front door instead of just appearing in your room “son, your boyfriend’s here” ur devastated why would ur dad say that

THENN hobie starts to come to your dimension for you more than gwen, has probably already invited you back to his once or twice but now he’s a lot more frequent with invites, wants you to consider his place a second home (in case you ever wanna run from home, cough)

say something does blossom between you two, obviously you don’t label it cause hobie’s not about that

you get promoted from “gwens brother” to “hobie’s boyfriend” at some point even if you don’t use labels- that’s only if ur not like too close to the rest of the friend group, but i imagine you’ve gotta be

hobie probably talks more about being spider-man relatively early on considering the topic, but since you know his secret identity it doesn’t really matter to him

the closer you are, the more into his stories he is

is ready to reenact the whole thing for you now so it’s like you were there

draw each other, i dare u

make playlists for each other, perhaps ?

there’s a lot of gwen snitching to each of you

and then you two do with that information together what you will later

like if you’re just being gay for each other it’s wild how fast gwen goes to the other and is like “guess what he said” she is not slick about it

hobie can be found at ur place more often then not, your dads a little more iffy about you going to a different dimension

still, very grateful to be welcome in your home but hobie definitely prefers to kick back at his

hobie loves to bother gwen about your whereabouts, if you are a thing or not “where’s your brother at?” he’s pretending to be cool about it

does your dad approve ? who cares

but nah he’s way more open minded after the incident, thinks hobie is a peace of work and probably his own son too if you’ve got a similar personality, in that case you’re perfect for each other

if not he’s just happy you’re happy, that’s all he cares about

obviously gwen supports it, likes to claim she introduced you guys and you owe your relationship to her when she tries to win in an argument/conversation

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧