#so feel free to request these verses

[izzysarchivedblogs]

clint's au verses + notes

as a general rule of thumb, @/thefleetfinest regardless of verse or ship, mel's leonard mccoy is clint's sober buddy/sponsor always. assume he is in all of these verses. Or if i have written him in / if he is referenced like an npc assume it's mel's leonard. // mass effect and dragon age may go single ship as well to be determined

star trek // to boldly go // single ship: @/crisispider

Set in the Kelvin timeline

One of five helmsman on the Enterprise, he is typically Sulu's alternate and typically takes the night shift

Post Beyond, he is contemplating a career change from pilot seat to being a security officer thinking his skillset may be better used not glued to monitoring flight controls (actually its the paranoia and trauma)

He doesn't join Starfleet Academy until he is 33, after being an entertainer from the age of 14 to 32 when he got a divorce

He's an odd one, not the most authority friendly

Manages sobriety alongside Leonard Mccoy after an incident with John Walker in the final year of academy before the Nero crisis

Divorced and sad except now he is a committed relationship with engineer Peter and he makes him happy

Friends: Leonard, Uhura, Carol, Peter and Linda. Iowan Alliance with Jim

wastelands // you can run on for a long time sooner or later god'll cut you down

Can follow either the comics or the podcast for plot and canon in terms of events

Drinking again

An absolute disaster and bastard of an old man

Blind from glaucoma

wastelands inspired au // something in the orange tells me we're not done (single ship w/ crisispider)

features my "oc" ashley parker barton, blood related to barney barton, adopted daughter clint barton and peter parker (he is married to peter) as well as peter and mj's daughter mayday

Sadly, he and Leonard are no longer sober

Currently on his revenge quest to kill the T-Bolts and everyone responsible for V-Day

Can be deterred from this suicide revenge quest because well his family is alive

the more fun version of wastelands and more flexible with plot

mass effect // a spectre. smoke and dust and shadow nothing substantial until i chose to be

Canon flexible/divergent setting of the main trilogy // time blind

One of the first few human spectres to come after Commander Shepard (this can happen in the two year gap when shepard is "dead" in me2 // happens post any ending of me3)

Barney and him got off planet of earth when he was only 12 years old, where they both ended up running with a bad crew

That causes a lot of trouble for Clint, but also makes him the best marksmen you could ever pay for

After Barney dies from injuries on a job gone wrong, Clint flips his tune and starts to go after gangs like the gang he ran with (turn vigilante)

There was one specific take down of a splinter pirate crew, that had lead to Clint meeting and working with high ranking Alliance officer Steve Rogers and engineer Tony Stark (not just a phony tony stark; but the Tony Stark of wealth and fame)

The meeting of these two, would later prove beneficial, when Clint would be set up by ex partners-in-crime and would lead up to arrested on the Citadel, awaiting Council judgement

Rogers and Stark had apparently been keeping an eye on Clint, and not only bailed him out with the Council but pitched and vouched; that the Citadel instead turn Clint into one of their operatives. he's got skills that are hard to teach, scary accuracy with any weapon in his hand.

That's how Clint went from orphan to criminal to vigilante to one of the Citadel's few human spectres

Clint has a small crewed ship named the BROKEN ARROW with a varying crew (some details will be static if verse goes singleship)

BROKEN ARROW has two doctors, leonard mccoy (@/thefleetsfinest) and (my) linda carter who specializes in medicinal care for biotics and xenology

Sobriety comes with being a spectre, wanting to be and do better; actually take this seriously as a way to do good in the universe

working an andromeda verse as well

the last of us // had to fight like hell until fight like hell made me one hell of a fighter

Clint's one of the original fireflies; when the group started to rise up in the world

He's always been a resistance guerilla fighter of a guy; doesn't approve of some of the ways that fedra control affected the world

Incredibly resourceful and an invaluable survivalist, almost exclusively uses a bow and arrow

As the fireflies start to lose sight, or as clint finds out about some of their not-so ideal ways of helping people (he is a huge help people guy) he starts to turn away from being a firefly or being the first guy to call them out

dragon age // i will wear the title oathbreaker with pride for no more false demons shall be slain

a born ferelden-er

Has a mabari named lucky

ex templar archer turned mage rights activist

orphaned at age seven with his older brother and became a templar alongside him as the chantry orphanage put pressure upon them that becoming a templar was the maker's intended path

was a mage hunter (and good at it)

quits the order as he finds himself ill with what circles have become, as the chantry does cuts him off from lyrium

turns to alcohol to cope with lyrium addiction and withdrawal

centered around the inquisition timeline, with clint joining up with the inquisition at haven ; favors mage-friendly inquisitors and anti-chantry followers most

can splinter off into two additional verses with one being clint becoming a warden in for da:o / da:a or be a companion for da2

616 // all he ever needed was to trust his own wings

Currently part of Mayor Cage's Thunderbolts

Working on amends with all the Avengers (and hopefully be an Avenger again)

Managing his sobriety well which came about after he was outed as Ronin and events of freefall

He and Kate have reconnected, and he'll usually turn a blind eye for her (sorry Luke and Helen; hawkeye fam always comes first)

[fatelcved-gone]

alrighty, folks! we're starting off with a lil inbox call! i ask that you specify a muse on your end or mine, and these asks may either be original or a bit of meme spam. it'll depend on how the day goes -- either way, we're gonna have a fun time!

[darabeatha]

/ LAST TIME IT WAS THE MEME OF let me assign ur muse a husband from my muse list but how about in a general sense 🧐 feel free to give this post a like for me to assign ur muse servants I write!

[burnshope]

like for a starter ! specify whomst !

[kiigan]

starter call @chaosrot

ㅤMany, many different beings Tsukuyomi had crossed paths with, during his vast millennia of existence. Young and old, tall and short, strong and weak, healthy and sickly, wealthy and poor, blond and brunette and bald, of a myriad races and origins. Very few, however, happened to be as interesting as this one who'd summoned the presence of the Deity of the Moon. 

Which might even have been in accident? 

ㅤThere were no clear signals of worshiping, truth be told, other than that gorgeous, quite large emerald placed by the steps of the shrine; the portal in-between realms, way in and way out, to and fro the immortal lands. But, of course, Tsukuyomi had sensed a suitable offering and had immediately taken to it; few other gods were as easy to captivate with material possessions, he wouldn't even bother trying to deny it.

ㅤIn a gentle explosion of light, same color of moonlight and leaving in its wake tiny particles of silvery dust, he left home behind and completed his venture into the mortal realm. Only to find himself, by this side of the shrine, staring at... yes, whatever kind of impressive fellow this one was. Unfolding the intricately carved wooden fan he always carried along, Tsukuyomi waved it briefly as he spoke, his tone as tranquil and as ancient as the moon itself.

ㅤ«Dearest one, are you ever a sight for the sorest of eyes! It must have been at least the whole passing of a comet, since last this one was called upon to visit the human lands.»

[webbedphantom]

(n˘v˘•)¬ (n˘v˘•)¬ (one for Makoto and one for Sumi!) - @epitomees

Send '(n˘v˘•)¬' for my muse to compliment your muse

"You know, you're like... a genuine inspiration to me, Makoto. You're so strong willed, you've got a good moral compass, and you're one of the smartest people I've ever met. I mean, without your strategies I don't think the team would've lasted as long as it has."

"And these powers of mine... Honestly, they terrify me. The things I can do out there in the real world are just... insane. Like shonen anime protagonist levels of insane. And a part of me wonders if they might corrupt me, the way the Palace rulers were corrupted by theirs."

"But I think that... as long as I've got you and the others to keep me in check, I don't have to worry about that. Because I know if I ever start to lose my way, you'll set me right."

_____________

"I know it can be easy to feel down on yourself, trust me I do it all the time, but... You're a lot stronger than you realize Sumire."

"I mean, the stuff you've been through..." His voice trails off. He didn't need to list off her troubles to her, she knew them all too well. All he'd be doing is poking at the wound.

"... The stuff you've been through might've broken anyone else. Heck, I'm not even sure I could've handled it, least nowhere near as well as you did."

"But you didn't just weather the storm, you powered through it like a champ. And I know, I helped somewhat, but offering a helping hand doesn't mean anything if you don't choose to get back up."

... God, this was cheesy. Even for him. But he's already committed to it-

"What I'm trying to say is that was your accomplishment. Yours. I didn't do that, it's not something you did as "Kasumi," it's not something you even could've done as "Kasumi." It was your strength, your willpower."

"And if you can do that? You can do damn near anything."

[hellsitegenetics]

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homestuck

FREQUENTLY REQUESTED:

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thank you for reading! as a treat, enjoy this Lamprocapnos spectabilis, or Bleeding Heart flower.

[svt-luna]

hi lovely, i hope you are having/had a good day! i woke up this morning to svt winning another daesang (as they should) and the speech had me sobbing 😭

so i was wondering if you’re comfortable, could you possibly write something from lunas pov during the speech and her saying her own heartwarming speech? also maybe writing about their celebration dinner(?) afterwards where they facetimed jun and hannie? (and maybe squeeze in a little jeongna moment if you can 👀) this is my first time making a request so i’m sorry if this doesn’t make sense, i’m a little nervous.

if you don’t want to write it or don’t feel comfortable writing it, that is totally fine. i love your writing btw 🫶🏾

𝜗℘ BIRDS OF A FEATHER

❛ 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘪 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘪'𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳. 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪'𝘮 𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘪 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 '𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪 𝘥𝘪𝘦, '𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪 𝘥𝘪𝘦. '𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴, '𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘦. ❜

timeline: 2024

synopsis: Amid the rush of the MAMA Awards and the whirlwind of victories, Luna and Jeonghan share quiet moments of love and reflection, as their hearts connect through wins, speeches, and emotions that speak louder than words.

warnings: short but sweet, cursing, fluff, slight angst?, crying, long speeches, established relationship, slight flirting, tooth-rotting fluff

hi, my love!! please don’t be nervous and feel free to request more because this is a great request, i just had to write it real quick. and do not worry, you aren’t the only one who sobbed. i ugly sobbed watching the show, they deserve everything in the world. my heart is full for the guys 🥹🤍

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist

Luna can still remember their first-ever award show.

The sound of applause echoed around the massive venue, filling every corner of the arena with an energy that Luna could still feel, even years later.

She remembered that night as vividly as if it had just happened, though it was now a memory softened by time and sweetened by the hard-earned successes that followed.

Their first awards show as SEVENTEEN wasn’t glamorous, nor was it triumphant in the conventional sense.

They hadn’t won any awards that night; they were merely performers in a lineup of seasoned artists who had long since carved their names into the fabric of the industry.

Yet, for Luna, that night held a special kind of magic— one that was tinged with equal parts intimidation and exhilaration.

The air backstage had been charged with nervous energy. SEVENTEEN had been a fresh, wide-eyed group at the time, their faces still bright with the unfiltered enthusiasm of newcomers.

Luna remembered her own nerves most distinctly. She had fidgeted with the hem of her stage outfit, her heart pounding as the reality of performing at such a grand event settled over her.

It wasn’t just the thought of performing in front of their fans— Carats, as they would later come to call them— but also the knowledge that the audience was filled with some of the most respected artists in the industry.

Icons.

Legends.

People whose music Luna had grown up listening to, whose names were spoken with reverence in both casual conversation and industry circles.

It was overwhelming.

The stage had felt enormous beneath her feet, its scale almost swallowing them whole. Bright lights illuminated every corner of the arena, rendering the faces of the audience a blur beyond the glare.

Yet, when the music started, something shifted.

The nerves, the apprehension, the sheer weight of the moment— all of it melted away in the rhythm of their choreography and the familiar beats of their song.

They weren’t only a group of rookies anymore; they were SEVENTEEN, standing shoulder to shoulder and filling that stage with their energy and passion.

The applause that followed wasn’t deafening, nor was it as sustained as some of the others they would hear that night. But it was enough to leave a mark, enough to affirm that they had been seen, even if only as one of many acts in a star-studded lineup.

Luna remembered sitting among the audience after their performance, her breath still uneven from exertion but her eyes wide with wonder. They watched as other artists— seasoned veterans with decades of experience, and rising stars who were rapidly ascending the industry ladder— took the stage.

Every performance seemed like a masterclass in artistry, leaving Luna in awe. There was so much to learn from the way they commanded the stage, from the way they carried themselves with a confidence born of years in the spotlight.

When the awards segment began, the awe only deepened.

Category after category, artists stepped up to the stage to receive their trophies, their names etched in gold on placards that would later be photographed, shared, and celebrated.

Luna had clapped until her palms stung, genuinely thrilled for the winners even though a small, quiet voice in her heart whispered that one day, she wanted to be where they were.

The grand prizes were the highlight of the night.

They weren’t just awards; they were accolades that symbolized unparalleled achievement, the kind of recognition that marked an artist as the best of the best.

Luna remembered how the winners’ names were called, the way the room seemed to hold its collective breath before erupting in applause. She watched as these titans of the industry ascended the stage, some with practiced poise, others with teary humility.

Their speeches, though varied in tone and content, all carried the weight of their journey— the sacrifices, the triumphs, the sheer determination it took to reach that pinnacle.

It was both inspiring and humbling.

As the night progressed, Luna felt the spark of something igniting within her. She could sense it in the others too.

Seungcheol’s clenched fists as he silently vowed to lead them to greater heights, Woozi’s laser-focused gaze that already seemed to be dissecting how they could improve, and the way Hoshi had leaned over to murmur something to Joshua, his expression a mix of determination and quiet pride.

They all felt it— that drive to grow, to push themselves harder, to ensure that one day, they would no longer be the rookies sitting in awe of others.

They wanted to be the artists who stood on that stage, holding those trophies, delivering those speeches. To be artists whose music has grown to have an impact on their fans.

Luna carried that moment with her for years.

It became a cornerstone of her resolve, a memory she often revisited on the nights when exhaustion threatened to pull her under. She would remind herself of the awe she had felt, the respect she had for those artists, and the fire it had lit within her.

It wasn’t about proving anyone wrong or chasing fame for its own sake. It was about reaching the level of artistry that deserved to stand among the greats.

And that night, surrounded by her members, Luna had felt the first stirrings of a shared dream. They hadn’t spoken it aloud then— it didn’t need to be said. It was in the way they clapped for the winners, in the way they exchanged glances full of unspoken promises.

One day, they would be the ones to take the stage not just as performers, but as artists recognized for their craft. They would work until their names weren’t just part of the lineup but were written in gold on those placards.

And so they had.

The memory of that night in 2023 glimmered in Luna’s mind, warm and vivid, like a beacon guiding her back to one of the most profound moments of her life.

Almost nine years into their career, SEVENTEEN had already achieved so much.

They had performed on some of the most prestigious stages, sold out arenas worldwide, broken records they hadn’t dared to dream about and won countless awards that decorated their journey.

Each trophy, no matter the category or scale, was a testament to their relentless hard work and the unshakable bond they shared— not just with one another but with the fans who had stood by them every step of the way.

Yet nothing— absolutely nothing— compared to the moment they won their first Grand Prize.

The 2023 MAMA Awards were already a night to remember.

It was one of those moments where Luna found herself marveling at how far they had come. She had stepped onto that stage alongside her thirteen members, the lights glinting off their meticulously designed outfits, the roar of Carats shaking the very foundation of the venue.

The familiarity of it all— the stage, the adrenaline, the chants of their name— felt comforting, like a second skin they had worn for nearly a decade.

But when the announcement came, when their album ‘FML’ was called for Album of the Year, the world seemed to tilt on its axis.

Luna had felt the breath leave her lungs, her vision blurring as the words echoed through the arena. It was as though time had slowed, each second stretching into eternity as the realization sank in.

They had done it.

After years of climbing, years of pushing themselves past limits they didn’t even know existed, they had reached a summit they had only ever dreamed about.

The fourteen of them had risen to their feet as one, an unspoken unity carrying them toward the stage.

The journey to the microphone felt surreal, like walking through a dream they were afraid to wake from.

Luna remembered catching glimpses of the members’ faces through her tears— Woozi’s eyes already glistening, Seungkwan biting his trembling lip, Mingyu’s hand clenched tightly over his chest as though physically restraining the emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

The applause around them was deafening, but Luna could only hear the pounding of her heart, the rush of blood in her ears. By the time they reached the stage, she was trembling.

Standing there, under the brilliant lights, holding the golden trophy that bore their name, Luna felt a strange, overwhelming mix of emotions.

Pride, of course, swelled in her chest, nearly bursting through her ribcage. But beneath it was something deeper— something raw and healing.

It was as though the girl she had been nearly a decade ago, the one who had sat in awe watching other artists take home awards like this, was standing beside her now.

For a brief, fleeting moment, Luna felt that teenage girl’s insecurities and doubts dissolve into the air, replaced by the quiet, undeniable truth that they had earned this.

All fourteen of them crowded around the microphone, a chaotic, beautiful tangle of limbs and emotions.

The trophy, heavier than she had imagined, was passed from hand to hand, each member clutching it as though it might disappear if they let go.

Luna remembered how it felt in her grasp— solid, warm, alive with the energy of their shared victory.

The speeches began, one by one.

Some members could barely get their words out through their tears, their voices cracking as they expressed gratitude that could never fully be captured in words. Others spoke with surprising composure, their emotions shining through in the weight of their pauses and the tremor in their voices.

Every single one of them spoke from the heart, their words a love letter to Carats, to the people who had supported them from the very beginning.

Luna herself had cried— not the graceful, restrained tears one might expect at such a moment, but the kind of sobs that left her shaking.

She cried for the rookie she had been, for the years of hard work and sacrifice, for the moments of doubt when this dream had felt impossibly out of reach. She cried for the fans who had believed in them even when they hadn’t fully believed in themselves, for the members who had become her family, and for the journey that had led them to this stage.

It was as though the moment had cracked something open inside all of them, releasing years of pent-up longing, frustration, and hope. For that brief time, standing together with tears streaming down their faces, they weren’t the polished, professional idols the world saw them as.

They were kids again— wide-eyed, hopeful, and impossibly grateful.

It felt like healing.

The roar of the crowd, the flashing cameras, the dazzling lights— it all blurred together into a kaleidoscope of sensations, but Luna would never forget the way she felt at that moment. It was as though they had stepped back in time, becoming the teenagers who had once dreamed of this very moment.

Winning their first Grand Prize wasn’t just an achievement; it was a culmination of every step they had taken to get there, every challenge they had faced, and every dream they had dared to dream.

And as they stood there, holding their trophy with trembling hands and tearful smiles, it felt like they were rookies all over again.

The present moment felt surreal as well, but Luna couldn’t stop the memories from flooding her mind as she walked alongside her members toward the stage.

The 2024 MAMA Awards were taking place in Japan, and yet the experience felt oddly familiar. She had been here before, in some capacity— another city, another year, but always surrounded by the same faces.

It was the same sequence of events: the glittering red carpet, the dizzying flashes of cameras, the hum of anticipation in the air. They had arrived in sleek, custom-tailored outfits, every detail meticulously planned to exude elegance and confidence. As always, the fans greeted them with deafening cheers, their voices rising above the chaos, a reminder of the love and support that had carried them through the years.

The award show itself had unfolded like so many others before it. They had taken their seats among a sea of familiar faces— some peers, some icons they still admired from afar despite sharing the same industry. They had watched the performances with genuine awe, clapping enthusiastically for their fellow artists, basking in the shared celebration of music and artistry.

These moments were always a highlight for Luna, a chance to witness the diversity and passion of their craft.

Throughout the evening, SEVENTEEN had already won two awards— Fan’s Choice, Super Stage, and Album of the Year which they had won the year prior as well. Each win had been met with cheers and applause, their names called out with the same warmth and pride as every time before.

Luna had stood with the members as they accepted the awards, their speeches heartfelt and grateful, their joy spilling over as they thanked their fans and the people who had helped them get here. The weight of each trophy was a reminder of their hard work, a tangible acknowledgment of the bond they had built with their fans.

But it wasn’t just about those awards.

After their performance— an electrifying stage that showcased a medley of their newer songs— the night took a turn no one had dared to predict.

They had barely returned to their seats, adrenaline still coursing through their veins, when the announcement came. The words seemed to echo in the cavernous arena, sinking into the stunned silence that followed.

SEVENTEEN had won the Grand Prize for Artist of the Year.

The gravity of those words hit Luna like a tidal wave, her heart hammering in her chest as they were ushered to their feet.

Winning Album of the Year two years in a row felt monumental, like breaking through a glass ceiling they had been reaching toward for years.

But this year— this was something else entirely.

Artist of the Year.

The pinnacle of recognition.

A title that declared them not just successful but iconic, a force to be reckoned with.

Luna’s legs felt shaky as she followed the others, the twelve of them making their way toward the stage. Her heels clicked against the polished floor, each step heavy with the weight of everything that moment symbolized.

It wasn’t just another trophy; it was a testament to nearly a decade of unwavering determination, sleepless nights, and sacrifices none of them spoke about openly.

Yet, as monumental as the achievement was, Luna couldn’t stop the pang of sadness that accompanied it.

They were twelve tonight.

Jeonghan was doing his alternative military service, his absence a constant ache in their dynamic, and Jun was in China, pursuing his acting career with the same passion he had always brought to the group.

The two of them were irreplaceable, and though SEVENTEEN had adapted, though they had pressed on with their tour and their schedules, it never stopped feeling incomplete.

Luna’s throat tightened as the thought crossed her mind.

Performing with twelve of them felt empty in a way she couldn’t describe. It was like a song missing its harmonies, a painting with two crucial strokes left undone. Standing here now, walking toward a microphone that should have had fourteen voices ready to speak, that emptiness felt magnified.

The joy of the moment was undeniable, but so was the absence of Jeonghan’s playful smirk and Jun’s calming presence.

They had made it to the stage by now, the bright lights shining down on them, the cheers of the audience deafening in their ears.

Luna blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the wave of emotion threatening to overwhelm her. She knew she wasn’t alone in feeling this way. She could see it in the way the members carried themselves, their smiles tinged with bittersweet undertones, their gazes flickering to the empty spaces beside them.

Even as the trophy was placed in their hands, even as the reality of the win began to sink in, Luna couldn’t shake the weight of it all.

This was a first for them— Artist of the Year.

It was the kind of award that solidified a legacy, that spoke to the impact they had made not just in one year but across their entire career. And yet, it felt wrong to be accepting it without all of them present.

The tears Luna had been holding back pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

Not yet.

Instead, she focused on the moment, on the twelve of them standing shoulder to shoulder, a united front despite the gaps between them. They had worked too hard for this, sacrificed too much, to let the moment pass them by.

Still, as they approached the microphone and prepared to speak, Luna couldn’t help but wish that Jeonghan and Jun were there. The weight of the trophy in her hands felt both comforting and heavy, a symbol of everything they had achieved and everything they still wanted to be.

The stage was awash in golden light, illuminating the twelve figures standing before an audience whose cheers swelled like a tide.

Luna stood slightly behind the others, her fingers playing with her rings that were glittering as she tried to focus on the moment. She caught Seungcheol stepping forward, his calm and steady presence a source of comfort even now. He raised the microphone, his voice strong despite the visible emotion etched into his features.

“Say the name…” he began, the words resonating through the arena.

“SEVENTEEN!” the members chorused, their hands moving in perfect synchronization to their signature gesture before bowing deeply in unison. “Hello, we are SEVENTEEN.”

The arena erupted in cheers, the kind that echoed endlessly, an overwhelming wave of love and celebration that swept over them all. Luna straightened, her chest swelling with pride as her gaze flickered across the fans who were crying, laughing, and cheering with unrestrained joy.

Hoshi stepped forward next, his energy as bright and infectious as ever. “THANK YOU TO CARATS WHO MADE US ARTIST OF THE YEAR!!” he shouted into the microphone, his voice carrying an uncontainable enthusiasm that filled every corner of the venue.

Luna couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face, her heart warming at the sight of Hoshi’s genuine excitement. He continued, his tone softening but still infused with his usual passion. “We really didn’t know we’d be able to receive two big awards at MAMA like this,” he said, pausing as if to collect his thoughts. “But I think our first big award we received after eight years last year gave us the meaning that if we don’t give up, anything is possible. So with the two big awards this time, it gave us the meaning that we will continue forward like SEVENTEEN! We’ll really work hard. Thank you!!”

As he stepped back, the audience roared in approval, their cheers blending with the claps and nods of the other members. Luna turned slightly to glance at the members beside her. Some were wiping away the beginnings of tears, their expressions a mix of disbelief and gratitude.

Dino took the mic next, his youthful presence commanding attention even amidst the grandeur of the moment. Luna watched him closely, noticing the determination shining in his eyes. “Actually, when we received our Daesang last year, I was the only one who couldn’t share my thoughts,” Dino began, his voice steady yet laced with a hint of vulnerability. “But I got to do a bit today.” He paused, a small, almost sheepish smile crossing his face before he continued.

“Ever since our debut, my dream was to be an artist that would remain in history,” he said, his words quiet but powerful, as though he were confiding in every person in the room. “And receiving the Artist of the Year award felt like something new too. In the future, we won’t lose the feelings that made us worthy to receive this award and the feelings we had from the start as we go forward. We will go forward together with Carats. Thank you, and I love you!”

The cheers that erupted then were deafening, the sound wrapping around them like a warm embrace. Dino stepped back into the line of members, his expression softened but proud as the audience responded with unbridled enthusiasm.

It was Dokyeom’s turn next. Luna’s gaze shifted toward him as he stepped up, a bright smile tugging at his lips despite the sheen of emotion glistening in his eyes. His voice was warm and affectionate, as though speaking directly to their fans.

“Carats!! I love you!” he began, his tone as vibrant as his personality. “We got to receive two Daesangs at MAMA like this, and I’m so thankful for that. The reason we’re able to receive such a big award like this is thanks to our Carats. If it weren’t for the love from our Carats, we wouldn’t be able to receive an award this big, so I think today there’s no way for us to be anything but happy.” He paused for a moment, his voice thickening slightly as his words slowed. “You made such a happy day for us today…”

As Dokyeom’s voice trailed off, he turned his head, his eyes meeting Seungcheol, who stood slightly apart from the others. The leader’s back was to the audience, his head tilted downward as his shoulders shook faintly.

The atmosphere shifted, a hush falling over the members as they realized what was happening.

Luna’s breath caught in her throat as Seungcheol turned partially, his head still lowered. Before anyone could react, he leaned toward her, resting his forehead on her shoulder.

Luna froze for a moment, her heart clenching as she felt the subtle tremor of his body against hers. Her hand moved instinctively, intertwining their fingers in a comforting grip as she whispered, “Please don’t cry, Cheollie.” Her own tears threatened to fall, her voice trembling as she tried to keep them at bay.

Luna hated seeing people cry, especially her members. She had always had a soft heart, one that couldn’t bear the sight of the people she loved in pain, and Seungcheol was no exception.

“Are you crying?” Dokyeom’s voice broke through the moment, playful yet tinged with concern as he addressed the mic once more. “Our leader hyung is crying… don’t cry! Don’t cry!” he chanted, his enthusiasm infectious as the fans immediately joined in, their voices echoing throughout the arena.

“Yes, Coups hyung, say a word,” Dokyeom said, his tone encouraging as he gestured toward their leade

Seungcheol inhaled deeply as he moved toward the microphone, his fingers tightly intertwined with Luna’s. Her hands enveloped his trembling one, holding it securely as though anchoring him in the moment. Not once did she loosen her grip, and he drew strength from her silent support. His free hand reached up briefly to wipe his tear-streaked face, but the tears continued to fall unabated.

He couldn’t stop them, and he didn’t try to anymore.

Standing before the mic, Seungcheol’s voice broke as he began to speak, his raw emotions lacing every word. “The thing I want to say the most,” he said, his tone heavy with longing, “is I miss Jeonghan and Jun so much…” His voice faltered momentarily, the weight of his feelings almost overwhelming him, but he pushed through. “It would’ve been better if all fourteen of us received it together, but I’ll keep these feelings well and relay it to them. Thank you.”

The arena erupted into a mixture of cheers and sobs, Carats’ voices merging into one wave of love and encouragement. Seungcheol nodded once, as though solidifying his promise, and returned to his place in line, still clutching Luna’s hand as if letting go would cause him to crumble.

Luna stood quietly, her expression strained as the mention of Jeonghan and Jun hit her like a wave.

Bittersweet emotions surged through her, tugging at her already fragile composure. She lowered her head, her hair falling like a curtain to shield her face. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying desperately not to let her tears fall because she knew herself too well.

Once Luna started crying, she wouldn’t be able to stop, and tonight she didn’t want that.

But the ache in her chest only grew. The man who could always comfort her, who knew exactly how to make her laugh even on her darkest days, wasn’t here.

Jeonghan wasn’t here.

Seungcheol glanced at her, noticing the way her shoulders trembled as she fought to maintain control. Without hesitation, he draped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to him. Luna turned into him instinctively, burying her face in his chest. Her arms wrapped around his torso, holding on tightly as if seeking solace in his steady heartbeat.

The crowd roared again, their love a balm for the open wounds in their hearts, but the bittersweet air lingered around the group like a fog.

Seungkwan, ever the light in their darkest moments, stepped forward to the microphone. His voice carried a bright energy as he called out, “Woozi hyung! Say a word too.”

He turned to where Woozi stood slightly apart, clutching the trophy tightly in his hands. “Woozi hyung was so nervous just now he was talking to himself. In our team, he’s like a mother who feels full just by watching us eat,” Seungkwan continued, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “He’s really a hyung who always gives generously without holding back, so I want to hear hyung’s thoughts.”

The members turned toward Woozi, whose small frame seemed even smaller as he stood there, crying silently. His shoulders shook as Seungkwan approached and handed him the trophy, offering a reassuring pat on his arm.

Woozi wiped at his tears, but they fell faster than he could brush them away. He exhaled a shaky breath before stepping up to the microphone, his voice breaking as he began to speak.

“Ah, really! Please! Why?!” Woozi cried out, his words breaking into a soft whine. He turned to the other members briefly, his expression equal parts frustration and helplessness as the tears kept coming. “Why is it always like this when receiving awards?”

The members chuckled through their tears, their affection for him evident in their soft smiles and knowing nods.

“I don’t know why our emotions are bursting…” Woozi continued, his voice trembling. “What’s so sorrowful, really…” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the trophy in his hands before he tightened his grip on it.

His voice steadied slightly as he continued, though the raw emotion remained palpable. “SEVENTEEN got a big award for two years in a row at MAMA, and we got two this year. This was something that really could’ve never been for us. Imagining is free, but that was something we couldn’t even imagine.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, the other members nodding solemnly as they listened. Tears glistened in their eyes, some freely streaming down their faces as they watched Woozi pour his heart out.

“I’m sorry,” Woozi said, his voice breaking again. “I’m not really someone who speaks this much.” He let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh before adding, “Yesterday was actually my birthday, but because it’s burdensome, I don’t like receiving birthday wishes.”

The crowd erupted into affectionate cheers and cries of but Woozi shook his head with a watery laugh, continuing without pause.

“But receiving an award this good as a birthday gift… there’s no way I can’t like it.” His lips trembled as he smiled faintly, his tears falling faster now. “While making music for the past ten years, I can’t take pride in how I have never once been negligent or careless in studying it. I will continue repaying you until the end of my life.”

Woozi paused, glancing down briefly as though gathering the strength to finish. “It’s a very obvious thing, but I think an idol’s best way of repaying people is with good albums. I will never change, and the fourteen of us will continue steadfastly. Thank you, I love you.”

The crowd erupted into cheers and cries once more, their voices blending into a powerful symphony of love and support. Woozi clutched the trophy tighter, his tears flowing freely now.

Seungkwan, standing beside him, reached out and patted his back gently, offering silent comfort. The rest of the members watched with tear-filled eyes, their expressions a mix of pride and understanding as they absorbed Woozi’s heartfelt words.

Seungcheol’s arm stayed secure around Luna as he gently stroked her hair, his touch tender, grounding her. His other hand lightly patted her arm, still wrapped firmly around his, offering her the silent reassurance she needed. Luna’s head remained pressed against his chest as she absorbed the warmth of his presence.

Before Luna could lose herself completely in her thoughts, they both heard Seungkwan’s voice over the mic.

“Noona… do you want to say anything?”

The question drew their attention, and Luna felt Seungcheol gently gesture her forward with his free hand, urging her to speak. She hesitated, the emotions swirling within her still too raw, but the encouraging look on Seungcheol’s face gave her the push she needed.

“Aigo… she’s also crying,” Seungkwan joked, his lighthearted comment drawing soft laughter from the audience and the members. The playful tease made Luna chuckle through her tears, and she reluctantly detached herself from Seungcheol’s comforting hold, stepping forward with a small smile on her face.

As she reached the mic, Woozi handed her the trophy, his face red and tear-streaked but glowing with pride. Luna accepted it with both hands, her expression softening as she glanced at the members behind her. Her voice, however, carried a playful lilt as she turned to the audience and joked, “I’m not crying. Do I look like I’m crying?”

The crowd erupted into laughter at the irony, given her glistening red eyes and flushed cheeks. Her attempt at humor broke the emotional tension for a brief moment, drawing laughter from the members as well. She smiled wider, shaking her head before adding, “I’m not gonna cry today because I want to be cool.”

The lighthearted remark earned more laughter, and Luna couldn’t help but laugh along with them. Her shoulders relaxed as the weight of the moment started to settle into something manageable.

But as she continued, her tone turned earnest, “I just want to make you guys laugh. Carats, I can see some of you crying. Please don’t cry. Today is a happy day. A very happy day.”

She paused, stepping back slightly from the mic, her gaze sweeping over the faces of her members. Her smile softened into something radiant and beautiful, a reflection of the love she held for the people standing beside her. Her eyes met each of theirs, and the warmth in their expressions mirrored her own.

“I’m proud of us,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the tremble in her hands.

The crowd erupted into loud cheers, the sound wrapping around her like a warm embrace.

Luna laughed lightly, her eyes welling up again despite her earlier resolve. “I’m proud of us. I’m proud of myself. I’m proud of Cheollie, Joshie, Soonie, Woo, Jihoonie, Hao, Gyu-gyu, Kyeomie, Kwanie, Nonie, Channie, and of course Hannie and Junnie.”

Her voice cracked as she mentioned Jeonghan and Jun, and a single tear slid down her cheek. She tried to brush it away quickly, chuckling through the emotion that threatened to overwhelm her.

“I’m not crying, I promise,” she joked again, though her voice wavered as she choked back a sob. Her attempt to lighten the mood made the fans and members laugh, but their own eyes glistened as they watched her fight through her emotions.

She took a deep breath and continued, “As we stand here right now, accepting this award, only one thing comes to mind. It’s that right now we aren’t the SEVENTEEN who are in their late twenties and are in their ninth year. It’s as if right now we are the timid teens who could only dream about receiving an award like this.”

Tears began to fall freely now, each word bringing a fresh wave of emotion that she couldn’t hold back. She turned to the members, her face streaked with tears, and asked in a small voice, “What do I do?”

Her question was met with immediate action. Mingyu and Seungcheol moved to either side of her, their hands patting her back gently as they offered quiet comfort. The rest of the members quickly surrounded her from behind, forming a protective circle as if shielding her from the overwhelming emotions of the moment.

“I still remember when we were at our first award show where we didn’t win anything, we were just happy to be invited, and now we are here, almost ten years later, receiving two Daesangs in one night… I’m proud of us, really.”

Luna’s voice broke again as she spoke, and she paused to collect herself, her gaze drifting over the crowd before settling on the members around her.

“I am also proud of our Carats who have been keeping us steady through the hard times this year. This year hasn’t been easy. A lot of bad and a lot of good. My only wish is that next year will be a little bit kinder to everyone. We promise to work harder for you guys and for Hannie and Jun, who I know are watching right now… I love and miss you two so much. Thank you.”

She bowed deeply, her form trembling as she fought to regain control of her emotions. As she moved away from the mic, she quickly wiped at her tears with the back of her hand, but before she could fully compose herself, Dokyeom stepped forward.

“Come here,” he said softly, his warm smile a balm to her raw emotions as he gently wiped her tears with his hands. Wonwoo followed, patting her head affectionately while Seungcheol and Mingyu remained on either side of her, their presence steady and grounding.

Wonwoo adjusted the mic slightly, leaning in as his calm voice rang out, “Thank you!” His words were simple but carried the weight of his sincerity, and the crowd erupted into applause.

Seungkwan then added, “Thank you so much, really. In the future, we’ll work hard!” He offered a small smile, his genuine demeanor only emphasizing the heartfelt nature of his words.

Then, Seungcheol, ever the leader, took the mic with steady hands, his voice firm yet warm. “It’s been SEVENTEEN. Say the name…”

The members immediately joined in, their voices strong as they performed their signature hand gesture and shouted in unison, “SEVENTEEN!” They bowed deeply toward the crowd before finishing together, “Thank you!”

“Thank you so much to our staff,” Seungkwan spoke again, a gesture echoed by the rest of the group.

“Carats, I love you,” Mingyu added, his voice filled with emotion as he followed. His face broke into a radiant smile as he glanced toward the fans, his love for them evident in every word.

The members closed in tighter, forming a huddle as Luna slipped her arms around Seungcheol and Mingyu’s waists. Their collective warmth was a tangible reminder of their bond, a silent promise that they would continue to lean on one another no matter what came next.

As the members remained in their tight huddle, the crowd cheered louder, their love and pride for SEVENTEEN filling the venue. The crowd’s cheers reached a deafening roar, a wave of love and pride that wrapped around them like a warm embrace. They stood together, united as one, soaking in the moment before ending the night.

The cheers and music of the 2024 MAMA Awards faded into the background as the show came to a close. SEVENTEEN stood united onstage for one last bow before they retreated, their hearts brimming with pride and emotions still raw from the night’s triumphs.

As they stepped backstage, a whirlwind of activity greeted them. Their staff and team members erupted in cheers and applause, filling the air with congratulatory shouts and infectious energy. The members were immediately engulfed in hugs, pats on the back, and words of praise.

Their production team followed close behind, cameras rolling to capture every moment for future content, whether for YouTube or official documentary-style footage. Photographers clicked away, immortalizing the members holding their trophies, their eyes sparkling despite the exhaustion settling in.

In the dressing room, the energy remained electric.

The members posed for group photos, laughing and playfully adjusting each other’s outfits. Luna, with a grin that stretched ear to ear, stood at the center of one photo, cradling a trophy. She switched between group shots and solo moments with the trophies, her genuine joy lighting up each frame.

Hoshi and Seungkwan joked about how she was still the prettiest despite sobbing her makeup off, prompting her to laugh before finally setting the trophy down.

Once the formalities wound down, Luna’s attention immediately darted to her phone. She picked it up and stepped to the side, her fingers swiftly tapping the screen to initiate a video call.

It barely rang once before the familiar face of Jeonghan appeared on the screen, his smile lazy yet warm, as if he had been waiting for her call all night.

The sight of him caused Luna’s heart to skip a beat. The chaotic energy surrounding her melted away, and she immediately felt lighter, her exhaustion replaced by a soothing sense of calm.

“How’s my Artist of the Year?” Jeonghan asked, his voice carrying that familiar teasing lilt as he smirked knowingly.

Luna chuckled, shaking her head as she plopped into a makeup chair. “I feel amazing, my Artist of the Year,” she quipped back, the warmth in her tone matching his.

Jeonghan’s smirk softened into a smile, and his quiet chuckle carried through the phone. “We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?”

Luna propped her phone against the mirror, angling it carefully so she could talk to him while undoing her hair. She began removing the pins, placing them methodically on the counter. “The best pair,” she agreed, shooting him a small smile as her fingers worked through her hair.

Jeonghan’s sharp eyes didn’t miss a thing. His gaze softened as he noticed her smudged eye makeup from crying earlier. “You cried so hard,” he pointed out gently, his voice dropping to a soft coo as he watched her before he teased. “You’re so emotional lately, angel.”

Luna rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her smile. “I tried my hardest not to cry! But you know how it is… The moment I started it just hit me and I couldn’t stop.”

Jeonghan nodded in understanding, his tone patient. “I know, baby. But you’re so cute when you cry. I wish I could’ve been there to wipe your tears.”

Luna paused briefly to give him a mock glare, pulling out the last pin from her hair. “That’s not helping,” she muttered, though the fondness in her voice betrayed her words.

Jeonghan chuckled again, his voice warm. “Sorry, sorry. You did so well, though. I was watching the whole time. You were incredible up there. I’m so proud of you.”

His words made Luna’s cheeks warm, and she busied herself by slipping the rings off her fingers, setting them beside the pins. The only ones left were their team pinky ring and her engagement ring, which she twisted absently as she glanced at him.

“Thank you, Han,” she murmured, her voice soft. “I did my best.”

Jeonghan nodded, his eyes following her every movement as she began removing her makeup. “That speech, though. It was perfect. You always know how to say the right things.”

She paused, smiling slightly as she wiped away the remnants of her eyeliner. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Jeonghan replied, his voice unwavering. “You’re amazing, my moon. Every single day, you amaze me.”

“And you say I have a way with words.” Luna shook her head lightly, her laugh soft as she focused on cleaning her face.

Behind her, Hoshi suddenly popped into view, waving enthusiastically at Jeonghan.

“Hyung! Did you see me tonight?” Hoshi asked loudly, grinning.

Jeonghan smirked, tilting his head slightly. “You mean your hip thrust during ‘Ash’? Of course, I did.”

Hoshi preened under the compliment before Luna shooed him off with a laugh. “Okay, okay, go change already!”

“Fine, fine! Hi and bye, hyung!” Hoshi waved dramatically before disappearing again.

The interruptions didn’t stop there. Dokyeom appeared next, leaning over Luna’s shoulder to wave at Jeonghan. “Hyung, we need to hang out! Just the two of us.”

Jeonghan raised a brow. “You miss me that much?”

“Of course,” Dokyeom grinned before Luna nudged him away.

“Go change, Kyeomie!” she scolded playfully with a pout, laughing as Dokyeom wandered off.

As the room quieted down again, Luna sighed, leaning closer to the mirror to check her reflection. Jeonghan’s voice pulled her attention back. “You’re glowing,” he said softly, his tone sincere.

She glanced at him through the screen, her smile returning. “You always know what to say,” she murmured.

Jeonghan’s smile widened slightly, his voice gentle. “And I’ll keep saying it, as long as it makes you smile.”

The rest of the room began to hum with activity again as the members busied themselves changing and tidying up, but Luna and Jeonghan remained in their own little bubble, their connection unwavering despite the distance between them.

The conversation between the two flowed naturally, carrying a comforting sense of ease and intimacy that only came with years of being together. Even as Luna shifted in her seat, preparing to step away to change into more casual clothes, she hesitated. “I should go change,” she murmured reluctantly, glancing at Jeonghan through the phone screen.

Jeonghan’s eyes softened, his smile reassuring. “Take the phone with you,” he said casually, leaning back in his chair. “Just close the camera if you want. I’ll wait.”

Luna laughed softly, shaking her head. “You don’t have to stay on the call while I’m changing, Hannie.”

“I want to,” he replied easily, his voice steady and comforting. “I don’t want to hang up yet.”

Her heart swelled at his words, and she felt a familiar warmth settle over her. “Alright,” she relented with a small smile. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Nana-ya,” Jeonghan promised, his tone light but sincere.

Luna propped the phone on the nearby counter, angling it so Jeonghan wouldn’t see anything as she began to change. She could still hear his voice through the speaker as he filled the quiet with soft humming and the occasional playful comment.

“Is it weird that I find your breathing as you struggle to unzip your dress attractive?” he teased lightly.

Luna chuckled as she slipped out of her dress, reaching for her more comfortable clothes, not at all shocked that Jeonghan knew what she was doing just by the sound of her breathing. “Not weird,” she said. “Just proves you’ve been paying attention all these years.”

“You’re unforgettable,” he said smoothly, the grin evident in his voice.

Luna rolled her eyes fondly as she pulled on her hoodie. “You’re impossible,” she shot back, her tone lighthearted.

Jeonghan laughed, and the sound was a balm to her exhaustion. “Yet you love me.”

“Unfortunately,” Luna quipped, zipping up her jacket before finally picking up the phone again.

She settled back into the makeup chair, her expression softer now. “Okay, your turn to entertain me while I wait for the others to finish changing.”

Jeonghan tilted his head, pretending to think. “What do you want to hear, baby? Should I tell you how perfect you looked on stage? Or maybe how your speech almost made me tear up, but I held it together because I’m supposed to be the composed one out of the two of us?”

Luna laughed, leaning her chin on her hand. “All of the above sounds good. Go on.”

The members began filtering back into the room, grabbing their things and preparing to leave, but Luna remained in her little world with Jeonghan.

Even as they made their way to the car, he stayed on the line.

“Don’t hang up,” she said quietly, slipping into the vehicle and settling into the corner seat.

“I wasn’t planning to,” Jeonghan reassured her, his voice soft as ever.

The call remained active as the car pulled away, and Luna sighed, leaning her head against the window. The night’s events were finally catching up to her, and a wave of exhaustion hit. Her eyes fluttered shut, the phone still balanced in her lap.

Jeonghan didn’t say anything, watching her quietly through the screen. His expression softened at the sight of her, the light on her face, her hair still slightly tousled from the rush of the evening. The sound of her breathing, even and calm, was enough to bring a small, contented smile to his lips.

The car hit a gentle turn, and Luna’s eyes blinked open. She glanced at the phone screen and caught Jeonghan watching her. Her gaze, tired but full of affection, locked with his. “I miss you,” she murmured softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jeonghan’s smile grew, and his tone turned even gentler as if speaking to a child. “I know, baby,” he cooed, his voice low and soothing. “I miss you, too. But it’s okay. We’ll see each other tomorrow, hmm?”

Luna let out a small hum of acknowledgment, her eyelids drooping again. “I want you here,” she admitted, the vulnerability in her tone tugging at Jeonghan’s heart.

“I know, my pretty moon,” he said, his voice wrapping around her like a warm blanket. “But tomorrow, you’ll be back in Korea, and I’ll be waiting for you. You know I’ll always be here.”

Her lips curled into a faint smile at his words, and she let out a quiet sigh. “Promise?”

“Promise,” Jeonghan said firmly, his voice unwavering. “And since I have the weekend off, we’ll do whatever you want. Just you and me, okay?”

Luna nodded slowly, her eyes closing once more. “Okay,” she whispered.

Jeonghan stayed on the line, his voice a steady presence as he hummed softly, occasionally murmuring words of reassurance.

Even miles apart, his love for her was palpable, filling the quiet space between them. Luna didn’t have to say anything; his presence, even through a phone screen, was enough.

Soon, Luna found herself with the rest of the members in the restaurant for their dinner.

The restaurant was bustling with the faint hum of conversation and clinking utensils when SEVENTEEN and Luna entered. Their reserved room at the back provided a quieter space for the group to unwind after the overwhelming evening.

Luna, still clutching her phone tightly, smiled at Jeonghan’s face on the screen as they settled into their seats. She propped the phone against the water glass in front of her so he could see her clearly.

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow at her stubbornness. “Nana-ya,” he said softly, amusement lacing his tone, “you’re going to eat, right? Not stare at me the entire time?”

Luna leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm as she gave him a sleepy smile. “I can do both,” she teased. “You’re not hanging up, Hannie. Don’t even try.”

“You’re really going to keep me here while you eat?” he asked, pretending to be exasperated, though the corners of his lips twitched upward.

“I don’t want to hang up,” Luna said, her voice soft but firm. “I want you here, and this is the next best thing.”

Her honesty, tinged with drowsiness, made Jeonghan chuckle. “Alright, alright. But I don’t want you to feel distracted. Focus on your food, okay?”

“I will.” She nodded, glancing briefly at the menu the waiter placed before her.

Across the table, the members were glancing at her phone with knowing smiles but chose not to interfere.

They were used to Luna’s clinginess, especially when she was tired, and if it meant she got to keep Jeonghan close, even virtually, they weren’t about to stop her.

As the waiter took their orders, Luna kept Jeonghan in the loop. “Hannie, I’m getting the spicy stew. Should I get something for you?” she joked, her lips quirking up.

Jeonghan rolled his eyes, amused. “Sure, send it over with a side of your award-winning speech,” he quipped, his voice warm and teasing.

Luna giggled, shaking her head. “I’d do it if I could.”

While waiting for the food, the members engaged in casual chatter. Hoshi was animatedly recounting a moment from the award show, and Seungkwan chimed in with his signature wit.

Luna added her comments here and there, but her focus remained on the phone, occasionally glancing down at the screen to find Jeonghan watching her with fond amusement.

“You’re making me hungry just watching you eat,” Jeonghan teased when the food arrived, and Luna dug into her stew with gusto.

“Then grab yourself something,” she shot back without missing a beat, her tone playful.

“I would, but I’m busy being held hostage on this call,” he said, the smirk on his face betraying his amusement.

Luna rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re not going anywhere, so you might as well sit there and watch me enjoy my meal.”

Jeonghan chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re something else, you know that? I love you so much.”

“I love you the most.” Luna replied.

The members chimed in with their own conversations, the room filled with laughter and light-hearted teasing. Luna participated occasionally, but her focus remained divided between her food and Jeonghan, whose steady presence on the screen made the night feel less lonely.

When the meal was finished, and everyone was relaxing with their drinks or dessert, Seungkwan clapped his hands together. “Guys, before we leave, let’s take a group photo. We’ve got to commemorate tonight.”

Luna perked up at the suggestion, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten. She glanced at Jeonghan on the screen. “You’re already here, so you’re joining us for this.”

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh, am I? How exactly are we pulling that off?”

“You sound like a fossil,” Luna said mischievously, picking up her phone.

The members decided to loop in Jun, hoping he wasn’t too busy. After a few rings, Jun’s face appeared on Joshua’s phone, his expression lighting up at the sight of his friends. “Hey, everyone! Congratulations to us! What’s going on?”

A chorus of greetings erupted, their voices overlapping as they filled him in on their dinner plans. Jun’s smile widened. “Wish I could be there with you guys. How’s everything?”

“Good,” Mingyu said, grinning. “We’re just about to take a group photo. You’re joining us.”

Jun laughed. “Of course. Let me get ready.”

The staff moved to position the camera, and everyone quickly returned to their seats. Luna held her phone up, angling it so Jeonghan’s face was visible. Across from her, Joshua did the same with Jun.

The room buzzed with warmth as the group settled in, some leaning closer to the phones to make sure everyone could be seen.

For a brief moment, everything felt whole.

All fourteen of them were present, even if it wasn’t physical.

Luna glanced at Jeonghan on her screen, her heart swelling with gratitude. Despite the distance, they always found a way to come together.

As the camera clicked, capturing the moment, Luna couldn’t help but think about the day’s victories— their awards, the laughter, and the love that tied them all together.

Fourteen hearts, fourteen stories, intertwined in a way that nothing could break.

Even when apart, they were never truly separated.

This was their strength, their bond, their forever.

ೃ⁀➷ comment or message me to be added to the tag list :)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SUBMIT A REQUEST AND ASK ME ANYTHING!

: ̗̀➛ requests are always open ♡ - lunaఌ

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[ellecdc]

Hii! I love your work SO MUCH but i'm not really sure if you're taking requests. Yet i'm here asking if you'd be comfortable to write a marauders or wolf star or any of the ships with reader who has epilepsy? and how they comfort reader after a seizure? i've always wondered what they'd do after my episodes. Feel free to delete this one if jts not your thing and have a great week ahead!!!

thanks for your request, sweetheart! do forgive me if there are any inaccuracies in my depiction of epilepsy as I'm not super well-versed in the subject other than what to do in a first-aid setting! google don't fail me now 😩

poly!maraudres x gn!reader who has epilepsy

CW: depiction of a seizure, anxiety, loss of consciousness, hurt/comfort, Sirius' cooking

You could hear voices murmuring around you - perhaps stationed somewhere above you - though you weren’t currently confident in your spatial awareness. You couldn’t make out what the voices were saying, but you could tell that they were nice; that the voices were lovely.

Or perhaps there wasn’t any voices at all, perhaps it was just a presence; perhaps it was just a lovely presence. Either way, you were sure you felt grateful for it. 

“Easy dove, there you are.” You heard whispered as a breath was forcefully exhaled from your lungs. “There you are, you’re alright sweetheart. You can stop the timer, Pads.” 

You hadn’t realised you had started crying until someone was shushing you and wiping tears away from your cheeks. 

“Remus’ll be right back, angel; he just went to get you some water.” A voice explained from above you; James, it was James’ voice. 

It was James’ voice and you were on the floor; how had you ended up on the floor?

You were having dinner; Sirius had made dinner for you all - roast chicken and potatoes. It was supposed to be roast chicken, potatoes, and broccolini, but he had burnt the broccolini. 

It had been a lovely meal until it wasn’t; it had been a lovely meal until your mouth started to taste like metal. 

“You feeling alright, sweets?” Sirius had asked when you abruptly stopped talking and set your fork down beside your plate.

You were upset - and perhaps a little scared, though this certainly wasn’t anything new - and you hadn’t been ready to admit what you thought was about to happen; not right then, not aloud. 

You simply shook your head no. 

“Is it Pads’ cooking? Because we can order take away.” James had offered in jest, only cluing in that something was wrong when Remus gently nudged James’ elbow with his knuckles.

“Seizure?” Remus asked simply.

You squeezed your eyes shut - in embarrassment or fear, you weren’t entirely sure - and nodded your head yes.

It was like a switch was flipped and they all fell into business mode.

“I’ll go move the coffee table.” Sirius proclaimed as he hurried from the table towards the living room and James was at your side to help you up.

“I’m sorry.” You gritted out miserably, earning you a sad sigh from James who was all but carrying you into the next room.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart. We’ve got you.”

And you could only trust that this was true as your consciousness began to fade just as your body was lowered onto the carpeted floor. 

It had been a seizure, you had a seizure. 

“Hey dovey.” You heard above you; a slight breeze prickling your skin alerting you to the fact that Remus had just returned.

A spike of worry surged through your core as you let out a few quick breaths. “Rem.” You sobbed.

The sound of something being set down on the coffee table, James shifting away from you to make room for Remus, and two strong hands cupping each side of your face.

“I’m right here, love. Can you open your eyes for me?” He murmured softly, rubbing at your cheekbones with his thumbs. 

A few quick puffs of hair left your lips again, but you were distracted from your panic as you felt gentle fingers press into your calves. 

“You’re alright, we’ve got you. Open your eyes, dovey.” 

You tried to take in a deep breath as you relented; opening your eyes to have your vision swimming with the sad smile of Remus. “There you are; you’re alright.” He promised you. 

“Anything sore?” Sirius asked uncharacteristically quietly for your arguably most boisterous boyfriend as he continued tracing soothing circles on your Achilles tendon. 

“I don- I don’t think so.” You whispered through a hiccup.

You heard James whimper in sympathy as his hand appeared on Sirius’ shoulder. 

“D’you think you can manage a shower or bath?” Remus asked then, encouraging your eyes back to his as he seemed to survey your face. 

You considered the welcoming warmth of a bath or shower, but your stomach seemed to roll at the thought of doing anything other than laying down for the next foreseeable future.

Your face seemed to give away your decision as Remus sighed and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Cuddles it is then, hm?” 

James was suddenly behind you pressing an upside down kiss to your forehead before he was encouraging your shoulders upwards into a seated position.

“Water,” Remus started as he placed the glass into your hand. “And paracetamol.” 

You took the tablet (as a preemptive solution for a potential headache) and drank the glass of water dutifully earning you two more forehead kisses by Remus and James and a squeeze of your foot by Sirius before James was helping you up and ushering you to the bedroom. 

Time seemed to move oddly as someone helped you change into a pair of pyjamas and ease you under the covers of the bed.

“Jamie and I will clean up, m’love; you cooked.” Remus murmured quietly to Sirius who seemed painfully uncomfortable as his eyes darted nervously between you and Remus.

“I think it should be you who stays, Rem.”

James sighed as he rested his hand on the juncture of Sirius’ neck and rubbed at the column of his throat with his thumb. “You know Y/N gets anxious after a seizure, Pads; just like Moony is always the first name you call out after a nightmare, yeah?”

“Siri.” You whimpered; your voice sounding particularly pathetic even to your own ears.

The three boys seemed surprised by your voice, clearly under the impression you’d fallen asleep during their quiet deliberation.

“Jamie and I will clean, Sirius. You’re in charge of snuggle duty.” Remus repeated. And while some apprehension was still obvious in his face, he seemed to concede to your grabby hand and Remus’ imploring gaze.

The two boys left the room as Sirius carefully slid in under the covers beside you.

Out of all of your boyfriends, Sirius was often left the most upset by your episodes; when he felt strong emotions (such as fear or worry), he tended to shut down.

“I ruined dinner.” You pouted as Sirius pulled you into his chest.

He let out a teasing scoff with only half the amount of humour he usually carried. “I ruined dinner by offering to cook, sweetness.” 

“You guys didn’t even get to finish eating.” You carried on, tears painfully obvious in your voice which made even more tears well up in your eyes simply in embarrassment for crying.

“No, no baby; none of that now, yeah? I was full, Jamie was ready to order pizza, and I’m pretty sure Remus was feeding the chicken to the cat anyway.” He promised, stamping a kiss to your head and pulling you in closer to his side. “You never ruin anything, ever. You make everything better simply by being there, okay?”

“I don’t mean to scare you.” You whispered, feeling painfully vulnerable and simultaneously wholly safe in Sirius’ arms. 

“You don’t scare me. You don’t scare me; I am scared because I feel useless. I hate not knowing what to do for you baby.” He whispered back. 

You hummed as if in thought for a few as you felt your eyelids growing heavy. “This.”

“Hm?”

“Do this, just this; that’s what you can do for me.” You slurred as you felt the heavy hands of sleep dragging you further into the mattress beneath you.

You could feel Sirius chuckle - both in the form of the air he breathed into the crown of your head and the gentle rumble of his chest - as he pressed another lingering kiss into your hair. “Consider it done, my love.”

[luveline]

Jade I’ve been WAITING and HOPING for you to ask about spider verse and/or Miguel requests. He is the epitome of grumpy love interest falls for sunshine reader, would you maybe write something where he’s like in the midst of being scary and intimidating and then when reader walks in he is trying to maintain that image in front of whoever else is there but she just like totally ignores it and basically exposes how soft he is?

Obviously feel free to take or leave whatever parts of that you like I just love grumpy x sunshine

SPOILERS FOR SPIDER-MAN: ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE BELOW

thank you for your request! for you my love, grumpy (lovesick) miguel x sunshine spidergirl!reader, 1.5k

Miguel spends a lot of time arguing with Peter B. Parker, or as you've so fondly nicknamed him, Sweatpants-Man. Well, Miguel spends a lot of time yelling at him. It stopped for a while; Peter B. Parker took some time away from the Spider Society, but eventually he returned with a brand new spider. A baby girl. 

You linger at the door, startled to find him in company, but pleased when he isn't yelling as loudly as he could be. He looks desperately as though he wants to shout, and is holding back through sheer force of will, his eyes widened and his hair falling in unruly waves over his forehead, strands of it curled into his eyes. 

Miguel is a worrier. It isn't his fault. He's a great man with responsibilities beyond his control, and he may not always react how he should, but he tries his best. You don't agree with everything he does, but you like him. You adore him. For all of his goodness, his bravery, and the smile he gives you when you're alone. 

He's clearly troubled by something. 

"I don't really see the harm, I won't tell him a thing," Peter B. Parker says.

"Why do you refuse to listen to me? No. End of discussion." 

"I think we should reopen the discussion," Peter B. Parker says. 

He and Miguel are friends, you think. They would have been best buddies by now if Peter could abide by Miguel's rules. Then again, you ignore the rules often and indiscriminately, and Miguel likes you.

He's scraping his hair out of his eyes now, a fierce glare fixed on Peter's face, and you have the urge to go in there and try to persuade him to give Peter whatever it is he's asking for. You're almost certain you could do it. 

Not through your sheer mastery of the persuasive arts, though you have mastered them, but because Miguel O'Hara has a soft spot for you. He tries to hide it and you refuse to let him. You haven't tried to kiss him or anything (you secretly aren't that brave) but you run circles around him for fun, only letting him boss you around every now and then to keep things loose. You could be much meaner about the whole thing: what is so humiliating as falling for your lackadaisical subordinate? But you don't hold it against him, because he likely isn't finished falling yet, and because you really do like him. 

You pull your mask off of your face and then your gloves, shoving them into a concealed pocket on your thigh. 

"Miguel," you murmur, knowing he'll hear you no matter the volume, "what's wrong?" 

Miguel doesn't glance your way. 

Peter B. Parker's shoulders sag in relief at your appearance. "Thank god you're here," he says. 

You hadn't realised Peter knew who you were. "I'm here," you repeat mildly. 

"Tell Miguel that the risk involved with visiting Earth-1610 is super, duper small." 

"Well, it is negligible," you murmur, though Peter's quest isn't your prerogative. 

Miguel groans loud and unapologetically. 

You stand near Miguel and look up at him. He's ridiculously tall. You’d have to crane your neck if you stood at his feet. You maintain some distance and look him over from a gentler incline, cataloguing the dark circles under his eyes for the hundredth time. They don't look too bad today, but you wish he'd get more rest. 

He has a very fierce face, but you know how it softens when he laughs. It's hard to find his glaring intimidating when you've witnessed the white flash of sharp teeth as he smiles, the way his eyes light up and his eyebrows relax from their stern set when you bring him something to eat on late nights. It's almost always smothered as soon as it happens, but it does happen. 

"The risk involved is not super small," he says, still not looking at you, "the risk involved is actually incredibly big, and it isn't worth it." 

Peter puts his arms out just as Mayday drops from the rafters above. You huff a laugh at his coordination and Mayday starts to laugh, her knitted beanie drooping into her eyes. 

"Hi, baby," you say softly, reaching out to hold her hand. She squeezes your fingers. 

"It's worth the risk. Absolutely, it's worth the risk, and I would argue that me visiting would actually strengthen the state of the multiverse–" 

"In what scenario–" 

"–and, like, make your job easier." Peter stops Mayday from climbing up your shoulder. 

"If there's one thing you've never done, Peter, it's make my job easier. I can't believe you're asking me again," Miguel says, taking a big breath, like he's going to pop. 

You step away from Peter to catch Miguel's attention. When his eyes lock onto yours, you smile as fondly as you're able, the kind of smile you know he likes. Your eyes widen just a touch and your eyebrows rise, the corners of your mouth not quite dimpling. It's a smile that says all the same stuff you love to say aloud. Hi, handsome. What's got you so stressed today? 

"Don't be like that, Miguel," Peter says. 

You tilt your head to one side. "You don't look very well," you say. 

"I'm fine." There's a thread of gentleness there, almost indistinguishable from his serious tone. "Or I would be, if Peter would listen to me for once." 

"I'm listening, man, I just think you should see sense." 

Miguel's face flickers like he wants to correct him, but he keeps getting caught on you. Nothing specific, just that his gaze lands on your face or your shoulder or your arm before he looks at Peter, and all the steam rushes out of him. He’s trying not to smile at you.

"I see sense," Miguel insists. It's like he wants to be angrier than he has, gritting his teeth weakly. "It's not feasible right now." 

You smile at that. Right now. You're not sure he's ever said something that could lead to a compromise. You are sure that he hadn't meant to. Peter is understandably thrilled, hiding his own smile as he puts Mayday back into her carrier. 

"Alright. Well, I've gotta take her home. But I'll see you both again soon," Peter threatens, wiggling his eyebrows. "Thank you," he adds, nodding at you. 

You laugh as he leaves. Miguel is nowhere near as pleased. 

"You did that on purpose," Miguel says. 

"I did what on purpose?" 

"Coming in here." 

"Yeah, of course. I come to see you all the time on purpose. Did you think I was drifting in here on the breeze? That would be difficult, considering." You gesture to the entrance of his office, which is far from easily accessible. 

Miguel looks at you, unimpressed, with his hands on his hips. You wonder what it would take to make him put his hands on yours. 

"Don't even think about it," he says. 

"About what, handsome?" 

"You think I don't know what that look means?" He sounds fond rather than angry. It's a win. 

"I bet you know, but I'm in the dark, so if you'd… illuminate it for me, that would be greatly appreciated." 

He checks that no one's about to enter his office. You feel your heart jerk in your chest, and if his super senses are anything like the other Spider People, he can hear it. 

"You really can't come in here when I'm trying to set people straight," he says. 

"Why?" you ask. You could pout at him, but you think that might be too much. 

"You know why." Somewhere between words he drifts closer, soundless, his face inching down toward yours with a surprising swiftness. "You know why," he repeats.

You lift your chin as much as you dare, which isn't much, but enough that your giggly confirmation fans over his lips, "Yes, I do." 

He nudges you away, and it isn't without affection. His warm, big hand lingers on your shoulder, even as he says, "Go, go do something." 

"Miguel, I came to see you." 

"I know, and I have a meeting with Jess in a minute, so you can't be here. It'll undermine my authority." 

"What will?" you ask, smiling, because you already know. His fondness for you. 

"Go away. Come and see me later," he says. 

You sigh and spin away from him. "I will, but not because you told me to!" you call, leaving the office with an awful sense of victory. 

Miguel scrubs his face with his hands as you go. He's really not sure what he's going to do with you. His plan to hold you at arm’s length isn’t working anymore, and honestly? He doesn’t think he could stand it a minute longer. Thank whoever’s watching over him that you actually do as he asks for once and leave. 

Miguel was one sweet smile away from kissing you up against the wall.

[slytherinshua]

ıllı　TABLOIDS GONNA LOVE THIS　( 휴닝카이 )

genre fluff , friends to lovers , popstar au , hueningkai x fem!reader   cw paparazzi here to ruin everything (be a helpful plot device) once again , not proofread   wc 1365   request @hyperdramas   note ik this idea was originally supposed to be indie band kai but the popstar fame idea was stronger than me skdjksd kai is so hot i love him, and hope you like it lyr !! tagging @soobchwe <3   net @kstrucknet @moadiarynet

Kai couldn’t write a single song that wasn’t about you. Although he always denied the fact, he knew that you were his inspiration. He poured his feelings out into pages and pages of lyrics, strumming patterns on his guitar in his studio for hours on end. The result was another smash hit, dominating the charts worldwide for weeks. Kai was known as a sensation, the best of his generation. No one knew who was the real reason for his success, though. Not even you.

You were back in Kai’s studio, legs sprawled over the back of his couch, staring at the ceiling as he played demos from his speakers. The beat was nice, and Kai’s vocals, although rough, still sounded heavenly. On rare occasions, you hated being the best friend to the world’s biggest artist. Wishing Kai was still a nobody like he was a few years ago, so you both could spend time together in the normal way. But most of the time, you loved every second of his popstar life. 

From hearing songs before their release, to free tickets wherever he was touring, you got benefits no one else did just from being Kai’s best friend. But you would never take it for granted. He would always be your friend before an international star. 99% of the time, you just saw him as your Kai, the same boy you had practically grown up with attached by the hips.

“So, what do you think?” Kai asked, pausing the song after the second verse. 

“It’s good. But you already knew that,” you said, smiling. “How do you manage to do it every time? The lyrics are always straight from the heart.”

Kai smiled. “I’ve just got good inspiration, I guess.” 

“And who would that be? Who are you singing your heart out for?” You crossed your arms, curious to hear his answer. If there was ever a chance to tease Kai about something, you would take it. Whether it was the fact that he had no friends or still slept with his childhood plushies, you never let him hear the end of it. A chance to tease him about a possible crush was an opportunity you wouldn’t pass up.

“No one in particular,” Kai shrugged, eyes darting up to the ceiling. You could tell he was lying immediately, and a grin spread on your face. 

“Come on, I know there must be someone! Every great artist has to have their muse.”

“Just someone I know,” he said simply, huffing at your stubborn resolve to get the answer out of him. He was really bad at lying, especially to you. But his stomach twisted at the thought of you finding out you were the inspiration for… every single song he ever wrote. If you found out, he’d either have a full album of relationship songs within the year, or a heartbreak album so depressing the entire world would be brought to tears. He wasn’t too keen on the latter.

“You know like… 3 people total. Me, Taehyun, and Lily. Oh my god— is it Lily!? Seriously?” you exclaimed, sitting up like a spring. Kai groaned.

“It’s not Lily. Stop wondering and help me think of a bass line,” he grabbed the bass from its stand and sat down next to you, thumbing at the strings to produce deep low notes from the instrument. 

You sighed, turning your attention to the notes he played. Your mind still lingered back to who his songs were about. You didn’t think Lily was a bad guess— she had even featured on one of his biggest hits. She had an insane voice that complemented Kai’s beautifully. It could be her.

But you also knew Kai was nearly incapable of lying to you. If he said it wasn’t her, then it probably wasn’t. That left the possibility of a mystery woman that he had met and you didn’t know about. Unlikely. Or… you. Very likely.

“Come on, let’s go out for dinner! It’s Valentine’s day. Neither of us have a date, so let’s just be each other’s!” Kai pleaded, pulling on your arm. He had shown up to your apartment with a small bouquet of roses, claiming he got it for you for a “friend date”. You had originally planned to stay in bed all night, watching rom-coms that would make you feel hopelessly single, but you couldn’t refuse a dinner offer from Kai. You put on the fanciest dress you could find and met Kai by the door twenty minutes later, taking the flowers from his hand. 

“You look pretty. Let’s go,” he said, smiling widely. He was out the door before you had a chance to process why your cheeks flushed from his comment. 

The restaurant he took you to was fancy, unsurprisingly. You didn’t even want to know how much the food cost. You could easily say it was the best food you had ever tasted, and it wasn’t like your best friend was struggling in the financial department. Valentines, which you always used to dread as it was spent single and depressed, was turning out to be quite pleasant instead thanks to Kai. Until you heard the unmistakable sound of a camera click from behind you.

“Kai,” you whispered, grabbing his attention. “Is someone taking pictures of us?” 

He looked around, alarmed, eyes scanning the other tables like a hawk. Once he located the camera, and the paparazzi it belonged to, his face twisted in irritation. He was used to his outings getting ruined by flashing cameras and crowds of people asking for autographs, but he hated that you had been accidentally dragged into it. He could already imagine the headlines tomorrow if those photos reached the public. He was at a romantic restaurant, dressed up, on Valentine’s day, with a date. 

“Go to the bathrooms. I’ll meet you there. Try to keep your face covered, okay?” he instructed, tone softening although he still looked pissed. You nodded and stood up, weaving your way through the tables of people until you found the bathrooms. 

The wait for Kai to join you felt like hours, and you were hyper alert for any sign of cameras or flashes. Even running into other people walking past the bathrooms had you tense. You knew the power paparazzi had, especially if their pictures reached tabloids. Huening Kai was the hottest star in the industry, and millions of people were desperate to get a glimpse into his personal life. A leak of this size could cause headaches for weeks. You hoped he could handle the situation well enough. 

When Kai finally arrived, he ushered you into one of the unisex bathrooms and closed the door, locking it for privacy. 

“So, bad news. The entire world may think that you’re my girlfriend tomorrow,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair and pulling on the strands in frustration. 

“What?” 

“There were multiple people and they all got pictures. I think they already got leaked by now. Even if I sue them and get the pictures taken down, millions will have already seen them. I’m so so sorry,” Kai told you.

Your face fell, knowing there was nothing you could do to prevent it. You really should have stayed home and watched those romcoms instead of going to dinner. 

“I can say that you’re just my friend. I don’t know how believable it will seem, though. We both dressed up for this, and it’s freaking Valentine’s day.” 

You sighed.

“It’s okay. What if… I just pretended to be your girlfriend? Then you won’t have to try to do damage control,” you offered, mulling over the options and outcomes. 

“What if you didn’t have to pretend?” Kai asked, taking a brave step for once. 

“What do you mean? We’re not dating.” 

“We could be.” 

“Are you seriously asking me out in the bathroom of a restaurant?” you teased, making Kai smile.

“And if I am?” You knew that look in his eyes, a soft glimmer. He really was in love with you.

“Then, I guess I’d say yes,” you smiled. He was lucky you were just as in love with him. 

“Tabloids are gonna love this story.”

txt taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @90steele,, @ddeonudepressions,, @cham3li,,

@wolfmoonmusic,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @blossominghunnie,,

@amara-mars,, @wccycc,, @seunghancore,, @ujisworld,, @sobun1est,,

@bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @sxmmerberries,, @talking-saxy,, @nicholasluvbot,,

@cupidslovearrows,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,, @stannwjnss,, @gong-fourz,,

@nonononranghaee,, @forever-atiny,, @stantxtforabetterlife,, @loserlvrss

[officialundertakersmoocher]

may i pls request a scenario with violet and afab reader where he’s drawing them nude and then smut ensues?

An Artistic Craving

yall i am so sorry for the extended break, and I hope this meets your expectations 😭

Warnings: NSFW, Nudity, +18, Slightly OOC

• • •

"Stay still, okay?"

"But, Vi, it's so embarrassing..." You attempt to cover your assets which have been shamefully exposed to his eyes in the dimly lit study room.

"Don't think of it that way... It's just a study." You tried not to ask many questions, after all, he was more versed in the arts than you were.

It was lucky that you two happened to catch this moment alone, unchaperoned. Vi, actually very uncharacteristically, was the one to insist that he needed you as a model to finish this study to complete a project he was working on for his upcoming art exam.

After all, you two had been seeing each other for a long time now and were not only comfortable enough to do such a thing, but you also just happened to owe him a favor.

This is how you ended up in such a position for your lover, spewn on a dark purple couch in a private study room near the Purple House dorms. You knew that Gregory was too shy to say so, but there are many books on campus filled with similar references free for his use. He just wanted to spend time with you in an intimate setting such as this one.

You caught him stealing glances at you every once in a while, and he could sense your growing discomfort from staying still for so long.

He left his sketchbook behind momentarily to kneel down beside you and suddenly the room felt more quiet. Your eyes locked as he gently adjusts the position of your hand, placing it under your head in a graceful fashion.

He tilts his head and he brushes a strand of hair away from your face as if to get a better view.

He tried to back away to retreat to his seat, but was caught by your hand pulling him back. He sat confused for a moment but could tell your eyes were asking him to stay.

You move yourself upwards to face him and pull him into a kiss. His lips are soft and welcoming and he eventually moves to grab your waist.

You slowly move him onto the couch with you, straddling his waist. He begins to become shy from this now suddenly risqué moment and pulls away from your lips.

"Love, I don't know if we should..." You could feel the deep heat resonating from his cheeks, so you asked him softly, "Would you like me to stop...?"

"Please no..."

You just barely hear him mutter this, but his hot breath on your neck shows you how desperate he has become.

Before you know it, there are clothes being dragged away and thrown about the room, never finding the motivation to tear your lips apart from one another. You both are stuck in an agonizing dance, waiting for the moment that you both can be as close as you desire.

The room has reached a stillness as the dim candlelight bounces off of skin, and hot breath stills in the air. You are both frozen in time, taking in the moment for the first time now, and as you do, you notice that you've never really seen your lover in such a passionate way as this.

In this position, he's kneeling his body over yours and bowing his head in a shy manor. From the silence you hear him speak softly, asking, "Is this what you want, for sure?" And you have seemingly been too caught up in your own thoughts to notice the lingering question prodding in-between your thighs. You suddenly feel a harsh flush invading your cheeks and a needy wetness in the very same place that he finds his attention.

You turn your head to avoid the embarrassment of facing him as you answer his looming question.

Your voice shakes more than you intended it to, more out of anticipation than anything else. "Yes, of course, p-please keep going, my love-"

However, he catches you off guard by lowing his head down to your thighs. His proximity meant you could feel his breath tickle your skin and it invigorated you.

He softly grazed your folds with his fingers, and slowly exploring your body until he reached the most sensitive parts of you. The moment he grazed your clit, you couldn't help but let out a soft moan, which is exactly what pushed him to continue despite feeling his own uncertainty.

He follows the sounds of your sweet moans, touching you and exploring your body in ways that neither of you have experienced before. Before long you find yourself growing more in need of his touch, pulling his hands and guiding him to kiss you. You both are grasping for each others touch and cursing into the silence of this empty room when the tension reaches an all-time high. You find yourself guiding his cock lower as a sign that you are ready (or maybe as a sign that you can't wait much longer now).

He follows your lead, pushing himself slowly across your folds, letting out a sigh as he feels the warmth of your pussy against his skin. He has one hand behind your head as a comforting act as he slowly guides himself between your thighs. He watches your expression change to a grimace of pain, almost stopping himself, but instead he caresses your face in an attempt to sooth your pain. You start to adjust yourself and whisper for him to keep going, and after a few moments the pain starts to replace itself with great pleasure.

You can't help the moans that escape your lips as you grasp onto him, likely leaving scratch marks on his upper back.

However, he doesn't mind this one bit. He can only focus on this heavenly feeling that seemed to blur his vision and tingle at his senses. The pleasure became overwhelming before you could comprehend it and it feels like heaven.

The sounds that filled the room should have alerted the others of the acts you both were sharing tonight, and maybe, just maybe, you should have been more worried, but neither of you could have the gut to care. Not tonight, not when it just feels so good and your vision had started bleeding white as your bodies worked in tandem with one another. 

It felt like hours before you had found yourselves cuddling under a stray blanket, skin-to-skin and feeling on top of the world. There was peace settled in the air and you held each other and shared this perfect moment.

"Did you enjoy it?" Violet asked timidly while he stroked stray pieces of hair out of your face.

"Oh course, Darling. I've never felt closer to you than how we were tonight." You looked at him so softly and left a soft peck on his lips.

"Well, thats good, because... I didn't really get to finish my painting. We may have to do this again tomorrow night..." He wouldn't meet your eyes, but you knew that if you could see them, they would have a glint of excitement in them that you only see when he looks at you.

"Well, I suppose we would have to then- For your studies, of course."

• Epilogue • Tea Time •

"So, It couldn't have been just me who heard some oddly bizarre noises coming from the art studio on the west end last night..." Edgar mused to the other prefects as he took a mischievous sip.

"Oh, how I wonder what that could have possibly been coming from..." The sound of a breaking pencil could be heard only if he listened so intently.

"Oh, I heard it, alright." Greenhill pipped in, sounding more than mildly annoyed as he completed his afternoon stretch. "Some people really need to be more considerate of the fact that some of us need to study at such late hours."

"Well, maybe some people should consider that not everyone wants to hear the sound of your 2 hour long training routine at 12am either..." Bluewer rolled his eyes, obviously not knowing what the others were exactly referring to.

"Well, In just thinking that maybe when the professors discover a certain pair of undergarments left in said art studio on the west end, they may have to cancel class this morning. If you know what I mean..." Edgar takes an extended sip of his tea and watched as Gregory excuses himself, dropping his sketchbook and seemingly headed towards the west end.

"Well, that answers that." Edgar mutters with a smirk.

[aethon-recs]

This Week (x2) in Tomarrymort (8 – 21 November 2024)

Hello! We have three multi-chaptered fics finishing this week, highlighted below. In addition, I made a rec list for Tomarrymort Necrophilia Fics 💀🤍 in support of the Tomarrymort Necro Fest hosted by @magical-menagerie-server, which kicks off in January.

Completed Fic:

Memories of a Killer by @chemfreak89 (M, 47k, complete) Age catches up with everyone. The infamous serial killer Voldemort now spends his time reading newspapers and making trips to the local library in search of a new crime novel. But one day he makes an interesting new acquaintance that shakes his quiet life and rekindles old flames and unknown desires. What quickens me is the violence in thee by @i-dream-of-libraries (M, 17k, complete) Harry is sold at auction to a man who is clearly in some kind of disguise - Lord Riddle isn't as charming as he looks, and the way he looks at Harry... A Regency AU inspired by the magnificent artwork of @stolenviolet. If I were you by @onehitpleb (E, 9k, complete) It is 1945 and Tom is eighteen, freshly graduated, and working a non-reputable job as a store clerk in Knockturn Alley. Somehow, he grows attached to the worst sort of person - an idiot.

In addition, a recap of the author notes from last week! (Please feel free to add some extra context to your fic update in the reblog, such as a little bit about the chapter(s) updated, and I’ll throw it in the update for next week!)

A Simple Request by @shyinsunlight (E, 70k, WIP) “As for the new chapter of A Simple Request, Harry tries and (unsurprisingly) fails to keep his personal life private. Some are having the time of their life, some others, not so much. Lifts can take you up, but going down is more interesting.” Wish by @sri-verse (E, 3k, WIP) “Wish is set after Harry's fifth year where he gets the ownership of Bellatrix's vault along side the Black vault. Looking at a gold goblet, he remembers his childhood wish of buying a gold cauldron and brings back Helga Hufflepuff's cup with him to fulfill that desire, unaware that he has freed the horcrux living in it.” To the Hilt by @izharmilgram (E, 28k, WIP) “To The Hilt is a royal arranged marriage au featuring nontraditional a/b/o, political schemes, ancient greek and abrahamic religion references, feral harry potter, and lots of power play and worship. It's neither only tomarry or only harrymort, but tomarrymort—meaning the core relationship is Tom/Harry/Voldemort. This includes Tom/Voldemort.” we made universes out of bitten lips and broken hands by @boyneptunee (M, 50k, WIP) “The consequences of Harry's Time Travel seem inconsequential, at first. Until they stare right back at him with vicious eyes. There's trouble brewing in every direction, and the Future is not as certain and set in stone as one might think.” Time Stumbler by @wintumnly (T, 102k, WIP) “Harry is stuck in 1937 and spends the holidays with almost-eleven-year-old Tom Riddle. On the first day of Christmas, they both anxiously wait for Tom's Hogwarts letter together. Fluff, humor, and Tom Riddle is not good with feelings." 7 by @moontearpensfic (E, 44k, WIP) “Harry goes back in time to raise Tom AU: the boys discuss what might have happened to make Voldemort go to "sleep."” Anytime, Anywhere, Always by @moontearpensfic (E, 22k, WIP) “Harry corrupts Tom AU: Tom and Harry celebrate Christmas--and something more! Your Wish, My Command by @moontearpensfic (E, 8k, WIP) “Hinny adopts Tom AU: Tom finally gets Harry to crack. 🔥”

*

Tomarrymort One Shots and Completed Fic

Complete | Chapters 8 and 9 of Memories of a Killer by @chemfreak89

Complete | Chapter 6 of What quickens me is the violence in thee by @i-dream-of-libraries

Complete | Chapter 4 of If I were you by @onehitpleb

Complete | Chapter 19 of Sits the wind in that quarter by @mosiva

One Shot | To be Imagined by @cyandenial

One Shot | god's hands by @curioushabitforarivergod

One Shot | bad behaviour by @milkandmoon-ao3

One Shot | two ways of being: the noun & the verb by cycloalkane

One Shot | set my soul on fire by @wynnefic

One Shot | Beach Episode by @crowcrowcrowthing

One Shot | First Duel by @being-luminous

*

Tomarrymort Ongoing Fics

Chapter 12 of Ills of Murder by @shadow-of-the-eclipse

Chapters 7 through 11 of in the silence by @satflesk22

Chapter 4 of friend of the devil (a friend of mine) by @shyinsunlight

Chapter 15 of Embryo by @cannibalinc

Chapter 4 of As It Begins by @duplicitywrites @moontearpensfic

Chapters 7 and 8 of Stygian by @crowcrowcrowthing

Chapters 15 through 17 of Saint Harry by @alenablack @chaos-bear

Chapter 1 of the night is cold in the kingdom by @girl-with-goats

Chapters 5 and 6 of you speak of the devil (like he's not your friend) by @amuria

Chapters 131 through 134 of Liquida Tenebris (Remastered) by @dymis

Chapters 1 and 2 of Small Mistakes by Crisis_Brewing

Chapter 5 of Hit 'N Run by @dragonaireabsolvare

Chapter 11 of Days always end in sunsets by @d00medbythenarrative

Chapter 25 of Time Stumbler by @wintumnly

Chapters 8 and 9 of Venom or Valor by @lightningant

Chapter 21 of Outrunning the Villain in You by @zenyteehee

Chapters 6 through 8 of To the Hilt by @izharmilgram

Chapter 9 of Do It Over by @thefangirlibrarian

Chapter 2 of Infinite by @moontearpensfic

Chapter 2 of Prizefighter by @dragonaireabsolvare

Chapter 8 of Fetters of the Damned by @sc0rpiflow3r

Chapters 13 and 14 of Hole in the Wall by tomrddle

Chapters 23 and 24 of Learning to love by @l-archiduchesse

Chapter 13 of He Who Shall Not Be Changed by @moontimefilter

Chapter 17 of Last Son of Black by @treacleteacups

Chapter 6 of Dreams Beyond Blood by @hikarimeroperiddle

*

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Astarion and his s/o getting into a sass competition where Astarion ends up confessing to her by accident and now he's all flustered?

Astarion x Reader

“Can’t you go any faster?”

“I’m not exactly as well versed into taking these off as I am in putting them on, darling.” Astarion quipped at you as he fiddled with the lock on your cuffs.

Being somewhat of an anti-hero liaisons these days, the group had been pinched on some trumped up but completely true & legal charges of petty theft and larceny. Your options were fight, flight, or get arrested when confronted by the guards and charges. And since you couldn’t fight a whole city’s worth of Iron Fists, and running also seemed unplausible as you’d have to come back to the city sometime, you decided to take you lumps and went to jail. Luckily, where there’s a will there’s a way. Or in this case: a vampire with a lockpick up his sleeve.

“Why did you wait to do me last anyway? Just to see me suffer?”

“Well,” Astarion cooed, “it does have a certain visual appeal.”

You clicked your teeth and rolled your eyes. “Could you just hurry up? I’m starting to lose the feeling in my hands. All the blood is rushing out of them.”

“Oh, well, we wouldn’t want that.”

“Well, if you want my blood again, you should be more sympathetic to my pain.” You told him. Sighing heavily as one arm was free and Astarion moved on to the other one.

“Don’t you threaten me. Besides, if you won’t give me what I want, I’ll just move on to some other lucky companion in our camp.”

“Ha! Like anyone else would have you.”

Astarion frowned. “I’ll have you know that there are plenty of people who would welcome my teeth at their necks. Hundreds. Thousands!”

“Yeah. One blood obsessed drow and…who was the other one you tricked again?” You pulled at the shackles, which jiggled the irons and knocked the lockpick free, but unbroken. The vampire growled at you.

“I tricked you easy enough, didn’t I?”

“Only because I took pity on you.”

“Pity?!”

“Yeah.” You told him. “That poor, sad, puppy dog ‘please feed me’ look was just something I couldn’t say no to.”

Astarion growled again. “That is not how it happened. Besides, if you didn’t like it you wouldn’t keep asking for more.”

“Oh sure. Blame the victim.”

“You are not a victim!” He snapped at you. He seemed a little wounded by that one. Maybe you went a little too far. “Gods.” He cursed under his breath with a frown. “You are lucky I love you so much, otherwise I would just leave you here, chained up, and never bite you again. No matter how much you begged me.”

The lock finally snapped open and your arm fell to the side. You lifted it to rub your wrist but were uncharacteristically silent.

“Would it have been too much to expect a thank you??”

“Did you just say you love me?”

Astarion froze for a moment. A little wide eyed at your question. He seemed to be racking his brain for a moment. Trying to remember the conversation before an ‘Oh. Shit.’ expression came over his face. “What? Oh, that. Figure of speech darling, of course.” He let out a single nervous cough after that and a rushed, “let’s go meet up with the other.” Before he turned on his heels and made a speedy exit.

You rub your wrist one more time as a soft, shy smile came to your lips behind his back. You follow after him and meet up with the others. Waiting just outside the prison for the two of you, as apparently just around the corner was enough of an escape from the mighty Iron Fist.

“Ah! I just love this fresh air.” You exclaim, followed by more comments on how dusty & dank your cell had been, but really just watching Astarion’s shoulders tense.

You spent the rest of the day subversively tormenting Astarion. Making comments on how much you loved the weather, or loved a dress in a window. How much you loved dinner that night. How much you loved getting a good night’s rest that night.

By the time everyone had gone off to their respective tents for the evening, Astarion had apparently had enough and slunk up to yours. “I know what you’re doing. Now stop it!” He hissed.

“But I thought you’d love it.”

“Stop it!” He hissed again. If he could right now, he would blush. You were tempted to let him feed on you for a moment to get the full effect. “I mean it! How would you like it if I threw every verbal misstep in your face? I don’t keep bringing up the time you said Ibis instead of Ignis, now do I??”

It was pretty funny when that bird showed up.

“So, are you upset that you said it and I’m teasing of you, or are you upset that you didn’t mean it and I keep bringing it up?” You honestly didn’t know which answer would be worse at this point. You felt bad you had wounded his pride to the point that he came to talk to you. But you also don’t think you could take it if he told you that he didn’t love you.

Astarion just stood there for a moment, thinking, before he sighed and waved you off. “Just…knock it off ok. I’ve had quite enough today. I’m going to get some sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.”

He turned to walk away and just before he fell out of ear shot you called to him. “Hey Astarion,” he looked back over his shoulder at you, “I love that you could come and talk to me about this.”

He huffed, but you could see the corners of his mouth struggling to keep down. “Oh shut up.”

[apricot-blossomss]

hihi!! may i please request an apollo x reader where he pleads for them to take them back after a minor argument, and apollo, in the heat of the moment and feeling petty, breaks up with reader

☛ apollo broke up with you over a stupid argument and begs you to take him back

☛ sfw, angsty, fluffy ending; tw: self deprecating thoughts; thank you for 100 followers!

He messed up. Badly.

His hand shook over the paper but he couldn't think of another verse. Or rather: there were so many swirling around in his mind, expressing regret, loathing himself, worshipping you and asking for forgiveness, that he couldn't find one to write down. With a frustrated groan, he buried his head in his hands.

"Lord Apollo?"

"Hm?" He said, begrudgingly looking up from his miserable laments and at the Muse Clio. She, as well as her sisters, had free access to the god's sacred gardens, though he would have preferred solitude right now. And he could not bear her pitiful looks, even though it was Clio's standard expression.

"I was sent by your high father," she said and came closer to the bench were the god had sprawled out all the heartbreak and breakup songs he had written in the last forty-eight hours.

"Sit," he said without putting away his pen. Instead, he started writing, but even though his words would have brought the highest poets to shame over the mediocrity of their verses, it still didn't feel enough for you. If he wanted to get you back, he'd have to do it properly, with the most masterful piece he had ever written.

Clio sat down on the small part of the bench that wasn't covered in music and lyric sheets, letting her eyes scan over them. Jeez. Whoever you were, you had to have done quite the number on the god. When she looked at him, he was feverishly scribbling on a fresh paper, looking like a madman. "Your father," she began carefully. "urges you to leave these gardens to tend to your godly duties."

"Tell him to shove his urges up his ass," Apollo grumbled and earned a skeptical look. "Come on. I'm sure you'll find a nice way of expressing the same sentiment."

"I have another message, from your sister," she added and he grimaced, a bitter feeling at the back of his throat. "Tell her I won't have her mockery." The muse fell silent, sad, worried eyes tracing his features.

"You can leave now," the god said in a monotone voice and without another word, Clio was gone. As so often in the last fort-eight hours, Apollo felt the tears sting in his eyes once more and leaned back to drape an arm over his face. But the darkness only brought the image of the fight back.

How could he have been so stupid, so hurtful and petty? It was an argument about a fucking a/c unit. It hadn't even been an argument initially. Just harmless banter, until he had overstepped and said something hurtful. And when you snapped back, he had felt hurt and lashed out. Stupid. He was so stupid. The whole thing started spiraling out of control until he had shouted back the fateful words.

"If you can't take a joke, maybe we're not right for each other"

The guilt ate him up from the inside. The image of your widened, teary eyes was burned into his brain, he saw it every time he closed his eyes, and every time he did, his heart squeezed so painfully that he wished someone would take mercy on him and shoot him with his own arrow. And no ink in the world would draw the pain out. Only one thing could- you.

You scrubbed aggressively at your kitchen sink, even though it really was not to blame for your current situation. "Stupid," you muttered to yourself as you forcefully scoured at a stain at the side of the sink. But it wouldn't wash away a bit. "Fucking thing," you muttered, scrubbing even harder. Finally, you gave up and took a deep breath through your nose. "Fucking shit"

Your doorbell rang and you ignored it. Like the last two days, you would self isolate and obsessively clean your house- that was how you coped with having the most stupid, petty idiot of a god as a boyfriend- now ex-boyfriend. The thought stung. And even more so, because as much as you would like to pretend it was, this wasn't all on him. The bell rung again, and you sighed, throwing your towel in the sink and opening the door with a little more vigor the necessary.

"Can I help y-" The words died on your tongue. Cool, silver eyes had you forgetting how to articulate a single word as the woman in front of you looked you up and down. She was gorgeous, in a wild way. Dark hair braided and of truly majestic posture, in a flowing dress and a bow over her shoulder. You felt your whole being shiver at the sheer might of her presence- something you only felt with Apollo, only that it felt much warmer and exciting with him. Your mouth knew before your brain registered her appearance. "Lady Artemis"

"You," she said, and the tone of her voice had you stiffen up, as if she had shouted. Her scrutinizing stare had you sweat and you dug your fingers into the palms of your hands nervously. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Th-thank you," you stammered, too panicked to think of anything else to say. Was she here to take revenge on you? Apollo would never allow that, that you were sure of. But who knew whether they cooperated?

"Your appearance doesn't live up to your reputation," she said coldly, but it didn't sound like an insult. The goddess studied your expression and sighed, a hint of exhaustion in her tone. "It must be something else about you then. Something that warrants this level of drama."

"I was hardly the one who started it," you bit back and regretted the words the second they left your mouth. Biting down on your tongue, you winced at your stupidity. "Please forgive me, that was out of line." Great. Insulting her brother in front of Artemis was surely the best move.

"He thinks the same." You looked up at her and were surprised to find her smiling a very slim smile. "You should see him, he's an absolute mess, drowning in his guilt."

"Oh," you said, without a hint of worry or remorse. Instead, you felt a sense of relief. He cared. He felt guilty. He was drowning in his misery. Artemis lifted her brow at your neutral expression and you shrugged. "It's nice to be appreciated."

"You are appreciated, alright," the goddess said under her breath as she remembered the tortured sappy breakup songs her brother had been bothering everyone with. Sickeningly enough, he was really good at those, so everyone was getting depressed. Even though Artemis tended to spend her time away from Olympus, she herself could feel the effects of this misery. And she was sure many gods would breathe a sigh of relief once the whole mess was settled.

"Look," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose as if she was having a migraine, which of course wasn't possible for gods. "Can you just take him back, mortal? He's awfully broken up and making everyone miserable."

"I'm not asking him to take me back," you said stubbornly. You may have had your part in the argument, but he was the one who ended things and your pride didn't allow for you to crawl back to him. "If he wants me back, he can tell me himself, I'm very sorry."

There was a short but noticeable silence. Then: "I understand." The goddess smiled. You were starting to live up to her expectations. "But he's just as stubborn as you and he won't get his ass down here until he has crafted 'the perfect song' to ask for your forgiveness." The thought did make your insides flutter. "How about a deal? I'll take you to my temple and make him fix this on the spot."

Not daring to refuse the proposal, you nodded and her hand got a hold of your upper arm. "Close your eyes" Instinctively, you followed her instructions. Even though you felt nothing, not even a hush of air, when you opened your eyes, you were in the most magnificent hall you had ever seen. Marble all around, with a high, open ceiling and trees invading it through the windows. A mix of ancient monument and forest.

When you turned around to ask the goddess whether this was Olympus, she was gone. You were alone, as small as an ant between the towering walls. They were so monumental it was almost claustrophobic- or rather, the opposite. Just as terrifying. The space made you feel tiny and insignificant and with those feelings came an unexpected dread:

What if he didn't want you back?

Why would he? He was a god, he could have his pick of hundreds of millions of people, people that were prettier than you, smarter than you, more exciting than you. It was like the walls were threatening to crumble, your breathing picked up and you tried to breathe through your mouth slowly, but not getting enough air only accelerated your sudden panic. What if he came in here and told you to go, that he didn't need you, didn't want you? That you couldn't even take a joke and you shouldn't be with one another? The scrutinizing look in her eyes as Artemis had looked you up and down was burned into your memory. Your appearance doesn't live up to your reputation.

He wrote you songs, you tried to remind yourself. He was being petty, that why he broke things off. Artemis says he regrets it, she said he wants you back. But you couldn't believe it- not really, no matter how often you tried to tell it to yourself. He wants you. But why would he? He loves you. Why you? There was no clock in the temple, of course, but it had been some time already . Would he even show up?

The tall stone doors were opened with such force they met the walls in a loud bang. Flinching hard, you shot around and saw him standing there, in between the doors that were creaking in protest of being handled with such force. You met his eyes and in that moment you knew you had already forgiven him. If a gods eyes could be bloodshot, his were. His usually effortlessly perfect hair was disheveled and his hands covered in ink. They hung powerlessly at his sides, as if they didn't know what else but the door to use their strength on. He looked like shit, and you felt love swell in your chest.

But you couldn't let him know. Pressing your hands to your hips, you lifted your chin. "I knew you'd come back" Liar "I just wouldn't have thought it would be this quickly," you said, sounding much more self assured than you had ever been in your life, much less now.

The god walked towards you, as if he were dream walking, raising a hand like he was about to caress your cheeks but slumped down in front of you instead, kneeling before you on the marble floor. "I am a fool."

"Yes," you said, nodding and gulping down the burning in the corners of your eyes. Because you couldn't stand the self loathing in his features, you studied a blooming cherry tree that was waving through one of the tall windows. When you felt hands on your hips, your own hands shot down but when they met his, your fingers curled around his and he let out a long breath.

"I am such a stupid, stupid moron," he emphasized and you finally managed to look down at him. The genuine regret in his eyes took your breath right out of your lungs. "Please... my love..." His hands closed around your smaller ones and he brought them to his face to put his head in his hands. You let him. "Please, forgive me. I was so stupid, please, take me back. Love?"

"Hm?"

"I'm so so sorry"

Not trusting your voice, you started caressing his cheeks and he sighed into your ministrations, kissing the palm of your hand softly. Teary eyes shone up at you and you looked back. Just when you opened your mouth to formulate an answer, he tightened his hold on you, while simultaneously reaching behind himself to grab a stack of scribbled-on paper out of nowhere and pushing it into your hands. "I tried to make the perfect one for you, but I failed. I'm sorry, my love."

As you read through the words, your heart started beating loudly in your chest. In disbelief, you read them through as the god still clung to your body. "Are these ... about me?" you whispered as your eyes skimmed over words of adoration and love, of appreciation and utter devotion, of little things you did that you had never noticed, or you had thought mundane- but he hadn't.

"Yes," he breathed. He didn't make a sound when he rose to his feet, though still hunched over in shame. His warm hands massaged your waist as they were carefully scanning your expression for your reaction. "Do you like them?" You had to like them, or he would lock himself in tarterus and throw away the key.

"I-" you stammered, voice hoarse. All your doubts, all your anxiety of being good enough... as you read through the words, they slowly erased them bit by bit. Your fingers were shaking so hard the paper trembled in your hands and you could feel the tears well up in your eyes. "Love?" He sounded worried, and you had to make yourself look up from the beautiful words to smile at him. "Yes, I like them. They're beautiful."

Thank god. "I'll make it all up to you, I swear," he said gravely, taking your face into his hands. "I will compose and sing operas to your magnificence, I will grant you every wish, I will never make you cry again, I promise"

"You just did," you laughed through your tears and pressed the stack of paper to your chest. "Can I uh- can I keep them?"

"Of course, silly. They are yours," he hummed, looking into your eyes with a look in his eyes you couldn't quite place. Maybe longing. Desperation. "Please, my love, take me back and I shall never make you suffer again."

"Alright," you said, smiling up at him and wiping away the saltine wetness on your cheeks. "And- I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that, you didn't mean it like that and I was just being stupid and overthinking and- I'm sorry."

Vehemently, Apollo shook his head and shushed down your apologies. "No no no, love, this was on me, just on me. I hurt you, I made you cry and I ... I can't get that out of my head." His voice sounded strained.

"Apollo?" Now, it was his eyes threatening to overflow with tears. "Why did you come back?" He looked at you as if you had just said the most bewildering thing ever. "I mean... you could have just left me. But you didn't." A small, bitter laugh escaped you. "I lied, you know? I didn't know if you would come back, I thought you might just not care that much."

"How could you ever think that?" he asked, as if he really couldn't believe it, and you laughed. "Because I hate myself?" It was meant to be a joke, but your puffy eyes and sniffs didn't do a lot of convincing on that end, you feared. The pained look in his eyes almost made you cry again, not even for your sake, but for his, because how could someone look this tortured and not break apart.

"You are the most amazing woman- the most amazing person- I have ever had the privilege of loving," he confesses. "I love you."

The genuinity in his words took your breath away, and you didn't get a chance to get it back because his lips crashed onto yours in a heated, desperate attempt to convince you of his words. Your arms wrapped around his neck and you kissed him back feverishly as relief flooded your whole body and you started relaxing in his arms. He could feel you slumping against him and chuckled into your heated kiss, angling your head just right for him to deepen the kiss, holding you securely and dipping you down. You giggled, fully entrusting him with yourself, and he smiled through the kiss.

"You are divine," he groaned, placing kiss after kiss on your swollen lips and you laughed lightly before the way of it was swallowed by his loving ministrations. "Says the literal god."

"APOLLO!"

Flinching, you broke away from the kiss just enough to see a very pissed off Artemis standing in the doors of her temple and glaring at her brother who frowned right back. "You're interrupting, sister."

"You are in my temple! How dare you do this in my temple you little shit?" When she whipped her head around to you, you buried your fingers in Apollo's tunic, already seeing your life flashing before your eyes, but against all expectations, she gave you a genuine smile. "If you don't want to take him back, I might still have a spot for you under my followers, you could join my huntresses, dear."

"That is a very gracious offer, but I fear I have to decline it, I'm sorry," you apologized and she tutted, though she didn't seem resentful.

"Ha!" Apollo grinned and she smacked him. He let her, grinning boyishly and hositing you up into his arms. You didn't protest, you were too dazzled by his unbelievably bright smile that had your heart explode into a thousand bubbles that popped all over your stomach, tingling. "Love, how do you feel about getting out of here?"

Waving at Artemis, you couldn't help your own smile. "Bye! And thank you, my lady!" She gave you a small smile and exchanged a look with Apollo that was more firm. Smiling at her, he glanced down at you and tightened his hold. "I know."

"Go!" his sister told him, shoving his shoulder, and in the flash of a second, you were surrounded by trees and flowers and sweet smells. A garden. Unmistakably divine, because no mortal place could be of such beauty.

Apollo set you down on a golden bench and sat down himself, pulling you into his warm arms. A long sigh left your mouth as you smiled at him, at his beauty, his smile, his shiny eyes. It felt so intimate, the way he was smiling back and pressed a kiss to your temple, huffing out a warm breath against your skin that was slowly warmed up by the sun. "Where are we?" you finally asked.

"My gardens," he answered, caressing your face with trails of sweet kisses. "Do you like them?" You nodded, admiring the colors as he was worshipping your face with his lips.

"Do you want to have them?"

"What?" you laughed, turning to look at him and fully convinced that he must be making a joke. But the expression on his face was undoubtedly honest. "N-no thanks," you mumbled and rested your hand on his shoulder. Your fingers interlaced with his.

"Do you know what Artemis told me before she happened to mention you were waiting for me at her temple?" Shaking your head, you started playing with his fingers when his captured your ring finger and his lips ghosted over your ear in a way that had you shiver in spite of the warmth of his sunny gardens. "She told me if I wanted you back forever, and if I loved you as much as I said, I should just put a ring on it."

"What?" you laughed instinctively, because you had built a wall around the topic for the both of you. What you had with Apollo wasn't permanent- it couldn't be, because you weren't permanent. What was he even talking about?

"I mean it," he said, so earnestly that the laughter died on your tongue. He brought your hand up to his lips and pressed his lips to your knuckles, your ring finger. "I would drag myself through eternal suffering for a life you. If you preferred a mortal life, I'd leave Olympus for you. I would kill anyone who hurt you, anyone ever made you feel small. I'd do everything for you, and I don't want to regret anything more."

Breathlessly, you searched his features for deception. "Apollo... you had thousands of lovers before me. Why me?"

He looked thoughtful and absentmindedly drew circles on your thigh. "You're right. I have loved plenty, and I have loved deeply every time. But even though it was genuine, it was never long, and that always worked for me, in some way." You felt the caress of his adoring eyes on you as you stared at your hands, trying to process his words. "It wouldn't work with you, never. And I would never be okay with it. I want you forever- or at least for as long as possible, as long as you want to."

There was a downside to dating Apollo, and it was the fact that your stammered confession and your attempts at wooing him with loving words crippled pathetically next to his flawless love poetry, his sure words and articulation. You really didn't know how to possibly give him an answer, other than leaning up and kissing him, as gently as the summer breeze, and thinking: if you could have this forever, what more could you need?

When you broke the sweet little kiss, you couldn't suppress a giggle and he raised an eyebrow at you. "It's just..." you grimaced. "I can't believe we broke up over an a/c unit."

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[thefanficmonster]

Do you do NSFW? If so, may I request a Markiplier NSFW alphabet?

Hi dear! Usually I struggle greatly when writing anything NSFW for RPF but I shall do my best. Baby steps lol Hope you enjoy <3

Pairing: Markiplier x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: !!NSFW content below the cut!!

A= Aftercare (What they're like after the act)

Mark is the absolute sweetest and most attentive lover before, during and after the act.

After he's made sure you're alright, he'd go grab you a bottle of water, a snack and a towel to clean you up. You can bet on a long cuddle sesh after the act, filled with intimacy and romance, periodically interrupted by jokes he'd crack to make you laugh.

B= Body Part (Favorite body part of their own or on their lover)

He's pretty damn proud of his hands. Years of gaming have made them particularly skillful in many ways and he knows how to utilize them just right *wink* *wink*

Oh, and also his back. He's been influenced to love it by you more so than on his own accord but still.

On you, he loves your legs and thighs. Count on him constantly having his hands all over them in both innocent and explicit instances. And when you wrap your legs around his waist....consider him a goner.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)

Inside, no questions asked.

Before you got to the point of being comfortable enough for that, however, he found just as much pleasure in painting either your chest, thighs or face.

D= Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory)

Nothing helps him excel at a game quite like under-the-desk head while recording. Bonus points if it's a live stream.

E= Experience (do they know what they're doing)

Mark has had decent amount of experience, enough to be versed into how things work textbook-wise. Every skill he exhibits, however, is something he improvised at some point. But don't take that the wrong way - this man knows exactly what he's doing

F= Favorite Position

Mark is simple man and his favorite position reflects that - Doggy style (closely followed by cowgirl)

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

Oh this man is a majore league goof in general and during sex. That's not to say he can't get into character and dawn a serious and attractively intimidating front when the atmosphere of the night calls for it.

He's a perfect balance between goofy and serious, occasionally leaning far left or far right depending on the moment.

H= Hair (grooming habits)

He takes care of his hygiene rather meticulously. He keeps everything neat, trimmed and clean.

I= Intimacy (how are they in the moment)

There's never a shortage of intimacy between you and Mark during the act. Regardless of if the night calls for making love or having rough sex, there's never a lack of intimacy and closeness between you two.

That being said, I'd again say it's perfectly balanced. Whatever the night calls for is how Mark responds - be it slow, romantic lovemaking or rough and dirty sex.

J= Jerk-off (do they masturbate and how often)

He used to do it a lot more frequently before you started dating. Now, nothing can compare to the real thing. He can't find much satisfaction in masturbating but he still turns to it as a resort of release when either of you is away on a trip

K= Kink (kinks they might have)

Dear God, please forgive me for this...

Choking, spanking, hair-pulling, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, light bondage, praising/degrading (depending on what the situation calls for). Feel free to share your thoughts on this topic in the comments

L= Location (where they're down to get it on)

Every single surface in the house is game in Mark's eyes. Especially the kitchen counter and the nicely spacious shower

M= Motivation (what gets them going)

You, in any context you can think of. You don't even need to be dressed provocatively in any way shape or form. This man is just so head over heels for you, he can't help it.

Apart from that, a good ol' rage game will raise his blood pressure just right and he'll proceed to blow off some steam with you. The same works the other way around - when he's high on the success of completing a game and he celebrates with you

N= No (what they're strictly against and wouldn't try)

Anything with violent and hostile connotations that could bring you harm in any way, be it physical or emotional. He loves you more than words can describe and just the thought of hurting you fills him with dread. You both like dabbling into the occasional impact play but nothing more than that, and never without a safe word.

O= Oral (are they more of a giver or receiver)

Mark is a big fan of receiving but he enjoys giving so much more. He does it for his own pleasure just as much as he does it to bring you satisfaction. He loves every aspect of it - your taste, the tangling of your hands in his hair, the sounds you make, the bucking of your hips. It's his own personal high. He could do it for hours if you'd let him.

P= Pace (what's their pace during the act)

Again, the speed setting Mark operates on depends on the atmosphere of the night. On the regular, he likes to take it slow, prolong the experience and uphold this bubble of intimacy around the two of you for as long as he can.

Q= Quickie (are they a fan of quickies)

Nope.

The Devil is into details and so is Mark. And it's difficult to appreciate the details when working with a small time frame. He likes to take his time, worshipping you the way you deserve in the most meticulous and intimate manner.

R= Risk (how risky are they/do they like trying new things)

Oh he loves a good unconventional and borderline public location where there's a chance at getting caught. Although he prefers the comfort of your shared house it doesn't cancel out his love for the thrill of some public fun.

As for trying new things, he's down to try everything at least once - unless it falls in the No criteria I mentioned earlier. All you have to do is bring it up and you can automatically consider him signed up and strapped in, ready to try it.

S= Stamina (how long they last in bed)

The speed may or may not directly relate to how long he lasts. He can get at least two rounds - a solid hour/hour and a half - under his belt before breaking a sweat.

T= Toys (do they own and and are they down to experiment with them)

I have a feeling there is a box, hidden in a dark corner of a closer or under his bed, containing a small collection of sex toys. If you're game to use him, he'd love nothing more than take them out to play.

U= Unfair (are they a tease)

To an infuriating degree. He'd even mock you when you whine, beg or get frustrated with his teasing.

It's music to his ears.

V= Volume (how loud are they during sex)

Mark is vocal but not loud.

He exhibits his satisfaction and pleasure with mainly sighs and groans, all at a pretty low volume. But he's also very expressive during sex - praising/degrading you accordingly or dirty talking you over the edge. All in a whispered or hushed tone that makes it all the hotter.

W= Wild Card

Remember how I said he's not a big fan of masterbating? Well, when he has to resort to it he has a certain way of making it much more pleasurable...

Photos and videos you two have taken during the act or right afterwards in your disheveled states.

It's his personal collection, safely tucked away in a dark hidden corner of his computer memory.

X= X-Ray (what are they packing)

I'm sorry, I can't. I just can't. I've sinned enough tonight LMAOO

Y= Yearning (sex drive level)

Name: Mark

Status: Permanently horny

Z= Zzzz (*yawn*)

I already mentioned a cuddle sesh earlier and I will now add onto it to say that, although he tries his best not to, he does fall asleep rather quickly and deeply. How could he not when he feels so much comfort with his arms wrapped around you. When he falls asleep to the sound of your breathing and heartbeat, it's the most peaceful slumber he's ever had.