#sorry my brain still processes this as being nighttime when its still dark out

[ittybittybumblebee]

Honestly i really could become nocturnal if i really wanted to

[barbarianprncess]

did you mean it?

read on ao3.

It’s a total of 3 significant events that led to this, her forehead knocked against his, breaths heavy and mingled, eyes wide and hearts bleeding.

It’s a total of 3 significant events that led to this, her forehead knocked against his, breaths heavy and mingled, eyes wide and hearts bleeding.

The first event isn’t really an event at all. It’s a prologue, necessary context to truly understand the monumentalism of this moment. It’s the memory of her eyes, piercing and reproachful, being the first thing that he saw after losing his mother. It’s shared trauma and oreos while they’re young and naive. It’s truces and training and growing up too soon together. It’s stargazing and stupid jokes saving eachother in every possible way. It's the culmination of the years Percy spent growing, learning, and being with Annabeth, and the unknown and therefore repressed feelings that came with it. Feelings are like the sea in that way, they don’t take well to being restrained. Percy has found that you cannot box in oceans or sentiments, they always find a way to spill over and out, with no regard for the destruction left in its wake.

The second event is Dionysus deciding on a whim that the inhabitants of his camp are ‘uncultured pests’ and taking it upon himself to set up a field trip for campers to the Ancient Greek Cultural Center in New York. (Percy thinks it’s really just to distract kids that were still shaken up about the battle at camp and the losses it caused. But, Dionysus would never say so. He’s far too proud to admit to caring for the children he’s been assigned to look after.) Argus loaded all the kids he could fit into the strawberry vans, as Chiron listed all the reasons this was a terrible idea. As it turns out, his worries were in vain as miraculously, no monsters attacked, and no mortal asked too many questions. No, instead, the only hitch in his plan was the glaring inaccuracies of the Center sending Dionysus into a fit of rage. He ranted for so long, their 2 hour long field trip ended up lasting until the place closed.

Event the third is the ridiculously long line leading to the mens room at the rundown gas station they’ve stopped at, causing Percy to traipse into the woods, deep enough to know that no one other than the squirrels were watching, and pee there. Unbeknownst to him, Annabeth had decided to take a quick walk in the forest as well, (in the opposite direction of his peeing endeavor) with the purpose of clearing her head. Both returned to the parking lot after 10 minutes, with no truck in sight. The gas station lights are turned off on the inside and the door sign has switched decidedly to closed. They look at each other in disbelief.

“Percy?”

“Yeah?”

“Uh...did they…”    

“They didn’t. They wouldn’t.”

“I think they would.”

“They would never-”

“I have pretty solid evidence to the contrary.” Annabeth deadpans, casually letting her hair loose and hopping on top of the miniature gas machine for motorcycles.

“But, how did-”

“No Argus.” Which means, no all-seeing eyes to double check the headcount. Percy begins to pace.

“Okay, but-”

“Two trucks.” Both of which are probably assuming Percy and Annabeth are on the other.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, gods.”

“Leave them out of this.”

“Those fuckers.”

“Which ones?” She asks. He looks up and she’s fighting a smile. He pointedly doesn’t notice the way her mouth curls up, or the way her hair falls around her shoulders and down her back, or how pretty she looks lit up by the neon red lights of the gas stations prices, which apparently doesn’t turn off when they close.

“Do you know something I don’t?”

“I know lots of things you don’t.”

“Ha-ha. I mean about how to get out of here.”

“Ohhhhh, let me think.” She wrinkles her nose in faux concentration, tilting her chin up towards  the sky. Percy is too annoyed to think it’s adorable. “Nope, not a clue.”

“Your phone?”

“Left it on the truck.”

“Iris message?”

“Percy, it’s dark as shit.” The laughter she’s been holding in comes pouring out. Nevermind that he feels his chest sigh in relief at hearing it for the first time since their quest, this is serious.

“You’re laughing.”

“Just a little.”

“You’re telling me, you don’t have a brilliant plan to get us on a truck.”

“Yes.”

“So, we’re stuck here.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re laughing?”

“You’re just really funny when you’re stressed.” She giggles. He can’t remember the last time she giggled. He missed it. He hates her.

“Oh my gods.”

“Okay, okay, look, I’m sorry. We’re halfway to camp right?” He nods. “I’m sure they’ll figure out we’re missing before they get all the way back to camp, but let's say, worst case scenario, they don’t-”

“Not helping-”

“And they make it the rest of the way back to camp. It took us four hours to get to the center, which means camp is two hours away, so if they make it the two hours back to camp before they realize we’re missing, and they drive back up-”

“C’mon ‘Beth, you know I suck at math.”

“We’re stuck here for five hours at most.”

“Five hours?”

“And that's if no passing cars let us use their phones to hurry the process up.”

“Five hours.”

She’s laughing again. “Seriously, what is so funny?”

“It’s just-” Her cheeks are red and she’s very poorly attempting to suppress her smile. “You’ve been calm in so many life or death situations, and being stuck at a gas station is what finally breaks through.”

“It’s nighttime.” She stares at him for a moment and then she’s laughing again, full bodied real laughter, and he's laughing too.

And it’s as if this gas station became their own personal Ogygia, an oasis, a resting place for them to be stupid kids again. And they don’t talk about the battle, or Rachel, or the volcano, or any of the million things set on tearing them apart. They talked about his mom getting serious about his new boyfriend, about Tyson’s underwater adventures and Grover’s searching shenanigans.

They smack talk with no real heat about who the better fighter is (Oh please, Seaweed Brain, I've been training since before you could tie your own shoes.), and argue about which ancient hero had the greatest journey (Hercules, are you kidding? Did you even read the myth?). They break into the gas station for snacks (What the fuck, Annabeth, where’d you learn to pick a lock? No, I wouldn’t prefer you break the glass, you psycho. Oh my gods, can you really break the glass?), and dissolve into giggles as they try to fit five drachma into the cash register.

They end up back outside sitting on the gas machines facing one another from three feet away.

“Your mom called me the other day.”

Percy, who’d been lazily squinting up at the murky sky, searching for any sign of stars, whipped his head to look at her. “What?”

“She called me on the phone. We talked for a bit. She said she wanted to make sure I was alright.”

“That sounds like something she would do.” He sighs and hops down from the machine, turning away from her, hoping to hide his blush from the dim light. “She cornered me on one of my off weekends, asked what was going on with us.”

“Oh.” He hears the shifting of fabric and assumes she followed him in sliding off the gas machine.

“Yeah.” It’s silent for a long time before she responds.

“What did you say?” She asks, her voice smaller than it was moments ago. He hears her scratching at the flat metal top of the machine. “When she asked, what did you say?”

He runs his finger through his hair, and one gets caught in a particularly large snarl. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.” She whispers and gods he’s terrified but he really doesn’t have a choice when her voice wavers like that. Her words shake and every ounce of his being tells him to do whatever it takes to soothe it.

“I said we were fighting. That there wasn’t one sole reason for it, just a bunch of little reasons. I told her that I scared you when I….went away for two weeks last summer. And that you didn’t like bringing Rachel on your quest. I told her that we….. disagree about how to best handle Luke. That I probably wanted to protect you more than I wanted to listen to you.” She laughs softly and he blames what he says next on her laugh. It is the catalyst for everything that follows.

“I told her that we’d be okay. Because no matter what happens I’m always gonna love you.”

He hears her breath catch. He doesn’t have to look back to know she’s turned to face him fully. “Did you mean it?” She calls. He doesn’t answer. The words haven’t caught in his throat, they’ve spontaneously combusted in his vocal chords and he doesn’t think he’ll ever speak again.

The sound of gravel crunching gets closer until suddenly she's beside him, and he didn’t tell his torso to twist toward her, he thinks she might just be his center of gravity.

“Did you mean it?”

She’s looking up at him, and her hair smells like lemons, and her cheeks are pink, and her eyelashes go on for miles, and her sunspots are better than stars. And it’s as if she pulls the words right out of him, he’s hypnotized by everything about her.

“Of course I meant it.”

She exhales and closes her eyes and while he mourns the loss of the sight, his body moves on it’s own accord again and he’s edging closer and closer and she opens her eyes and here they are.

Their noses brush, and this time he closes his eyes, and their noses brush just so, and…

Whoa.

He was wrong, it wasn't just those three significant events that to her forehead knocked against his, breaths heavy and mingled, eyes wide and hearts positively bleeding. It’s clear he’s been waiting his entire life for this moment at this shitty gas station.

Waiting for this. Waiting for her.  

They kiss for a moment or an eternity, and they fit. His hands are on her hips and hers clutch at his shirt before sliding up to his throat, and it’s like his soul is whispering, oh there you are.

And then she’s pulling back, so she has just enough space to shake her head without disconnecting from his forehead.

She's breathless when she whispers, “This is a bad idea.”

His hands trail up and down her forearm of their own accord, and when he whispers back he’s breathless too. “Yeah, really bad idea.”

Her hands slide up from his chest to his shoulders, and then she’s kissing him again, with purpose, and he’s kissing back like his life depends on it because he thinks it might, thinks if he lets go of her he’d die on the spot.

It seems his theory might get tested when she pulls back again just far enough to whisper against his lips, “Is it always like that?”

He kisses her again, once, twice, because he can’t help it and whispers back, “I don’t know, you were my first kiss.”

He’d released any serious hold he had on her the moment she hesitated, but then she’s rocking back up to meet him halfway and his entire body thinks thank the gods. He actually sighs his relief into her mouth, as his hands desperately reach for her face, some fingers tangling in her hair, and their lips are magnets, opposites that don’t have a choice but to pull together. Despite how much he wants to keep doing this forever, he has to tell her.

“I don’t wanna lose you, again.” He means not ever, but he figures she understands the severity in his voice. She’s running her hand through his hair, and his slide up and down her back, and she knocks her nose against his as she answers, “I know, me either. I’m confused, this is confusing me.” And she tilts her chin just so, like she did a million years ago, and this time he kisses her.

They kiss for an infinity, he gets to taste her laughter when she giggles at the absurdness of it all, and it’s better than ambrosia. He kisses her until he doesn’t know anything else, until his entire universe is Annabeth Chase, with her cheeks and her curls and her lips. She is everything.

And then headlights penetrate their universe, voices bring an end to their infinity, and Chiron is speaking but it’s nothing, it’s all white noise because she’s no longer in his arms, and his center of gravity is being ripped away and he hears someone ask, “What’d you guys do?”

He’s still looking at her face when she answers, “You know, tried not to strangle each other mostly.”

But, she looks back before she turns all the way around and her gaze is charged and her lips quirk with the secret they share.

He is so screwed.

[ddarker-dreams]

Sweet Talkin’. Yan Dabi x Reader [COMM]

There’s been an abnormal amount of sirens tonight.

It should be unnerving -- and to an extent it is -- but this isn’t what keeps you awake. Not that, or even the dogs barking outside accompanied with an occasional derogatory yell. With a heavy heart, you can say that you’ve gotten used to all of that noise. No, it’s something different that steals you from the welcoming comfort of a deep slumber. 

The thing that truly keeps you up is the anticipation of what is to come. Or more precisely, who. 

The bright glow of your phone strains your tired eyes, but it’s your best shot at finding entertainment. Squinting at the blinding light, exhaustion seeps into your being despite your best efforts to ward it off. No matter how much caffeine you drink later on in the day, it’s not enough to to thwart your natural inclinations to sleep.

For most, nighttime is a relaxing time of day that’s coveted. It brings a time of solitude, to reflect and rest up for the next day. While you wish you could return to the days where you felt like that, it’s long behind you now. Instead, you evade sleep, in fear of what could occur when you’re in the defenseless state. 

An illusion of control is better than none at all.

“You’re gonna get dark circles under those pretty eyes if you keep staying up this late.” 

A deep voice rumbles from the entrance to your shared room, one that you instantly recognize. Even in your groggy state, your emotions heighten in his presence. Turning off your phone and placing it down, you stretch your arms out, a yawn leaving your lips in the process.  

So he’s back. 

“Yeah, yeah…” you grumble back, caring little for the teasing comment. After feeling around your nightstand, a click resonates, light illuminating your room. Once your eyes adjust, you spot your unwelcome visitor, who makes himself at home. Dabi walks towards you, your bed creaking under his added weight as he sits down. Untying his shoes, he throws them carelessly in the corner.

Sensing your staring, he looks over his shoulder and grins at you. “Awe, you miss me or somethin’? How cute.” 

A groan leaves your lips, and you reach to throw a pillow at him. He easily deflects it with a snicker, working on taking his shirt off next. At least now that he’s back you feel more inclined to sleep, knowing that he can’t sneak up on you. Splatters of dark vermilion catch your attention, mouth curling downwards into a frown. 

If there’s anything you’ve learned in your time with Dabi, it’s that you shouldn’t ask where the blood stains come from. Ignorance is bliss, right? It’s still an unnerving sight, especially since you know it isn’t his. 

The relationship you two share is nothing if not unconventional. His occupation -- if you can even call it that -- has him coming and going at unholy times at night. Sleep is difficult to come by, not knowing when he might make an appearance. It’s what leads you to stay up some nights, a preferable experience to tossing and turning with anxious thoughts plaguing you.

As long as you stay in your designated place, Dabi holds true to his promise of doing you no harm. Thinly veiled threats under the pretense of being your “roommate” lead you to the current day, an awkward routine settling in. For all it’s worth, it could be worse. You’re acutely aware of what Dabi is capable of, having seen the ashes of corpses blurred out in the news. 

Why he’s taken a liken to you is beyond you. It still beats dying, only by a sliver. 

“There are some leftovers in the fridge,” you tap your phone, reading the time. Three in the morning. Great, and you have work tomorrow too. “I think I’ll give sleeping a shot now that you’re back.” 

Dabi raises an eyebrow at this, a fresh shirt without blood stains now on. “You always sleep when I get back. It hurts my feelings. What, am I not good enough company?”  

‘If I’m being honest, not really.’

He grins at how you shiver, lazily crawling over to be by your side. His sudden presence fills your nose with unknown scents, ranging from smoke to burnt leather. Underneath is hints of his cologne, all mixing together to disorient you further. Dabi loves riling you up, testing the limits of what you can handle. 

You take a deep breath, hugging your knees to your chest. As long as you don’t let it get to you, it’ll be fine. He always gets bored eventually, leaving you to do as you please. That’s what you’ll aim for.

“It’s not that. I just have stuff to do tomorrow, and I don’t like being exhausted. It’s my long shift.” 

His trademark grin melts away, furrowing eyebrows and a grimace taking its place. Mentioning your life outside of him is a tricky battle, and you can’t help but regret mentioning it. Being in a sleep deprived state is a major disadvantage in your interactions with him.

“This again? I thought I told you to quit. Rent or whatever won’t be an issue, I’ll handle it.” Dabi scoots closer to you, wrapping an arm around your bare shoulder. His skin feels rough against yours, coarse hands rubbing circles into  you. You bite your lip at the sensation, hair on the back of your neck standing. 

“I... I like my job. Sure, it can be irritating at times, but it gives me something to do during the day. I’d go stir crazy without something concrete to focus on.” The words are heartfelt, unfiltered. When he responds in silence you worry you’ve made a mistake, upsetting him with your defiance.

He huffs against your neck, lifting his head and shooting you a displeased look.  His voice is a low murmur, one that reverberates into the core of your very being. “Always making trouble for me..." 

Dabi’s grip around you tightens, and you gulp thickly. With how casual he speaks to you, it can be easy to forget the major power imbalance. Instead of greeting you with insults, or worse, he lightly flicks your forehead.

You blink, baffled.

“Don’t most people hate their jobs? I figured you’d be jumping at the idea of having more free time, or whatever. So you can focus on other things.” 

It’s not a confession you were expecting, your cheeks flushing at the considerate nature of his words. While it’s true quitting your job is an appealing thought, it creates a semblance of balance within your now chaotic life. Helping you stick to a schedule, in the same way school used to. 

Now feeling confident in expressing yourself, your taut muscles relax into his touch. “I’m too tired to think about it properly, if I’m being honest. I don’t know how you can stay up this late all the time without losing it.” 

Deflecting from the previous topic makes you feel better. If Dabi notices your intentions he doesn’t point them out, allowing you to take control of the conversation without complaint. He must prefer it over when you’d just shake and cry in his presence.

“You get used to it, sweetheart,” he drums his fingers against you, smirking. “I’ll make a night owl outta you yet.” 

Any implications in his words go straight over your head.

“As tempting an offer as that is, I think I’ll pass. ” 

He shrugs at your indifference, removing his arms from your frame. The lack of enveloping warmth causes you to shiver, Dabi searching through his bag. You peak over his shoulder out of curiosity, his scarred hands settling on an object which he pulls out. 

It’s a copy of Animal Crossing, in all of its beautiful glory. You wipe your eyes, unsure if what you’re seeing is reality.

“W-what?” you guffaw before your brain has the chance to stop you, jaw agape and head tilted. Dabi places it on your lap, and returns to his previous position of holding you. There’s clear amusement in his eyes at your stunned state, relishing in your every reaction.

“Did I get the wrong thing? This is that game you wanted, isn’t it?” 

It had to have been a week or so ago. You lamented to him about not being able to afford this, not even realizing he was giving it any attention. To think he remembered, and acted on it for your sake... is a touching sensation. Maybe he is capable of selflessness after all.

The cute box art puts a smile on your face, one that Dabi stares at. 

“I have to say, I’m surprised,” you pick it up, looking at the back with wide eyes. “Did the cashier give you a funny look when you picked this out?” 

‘I really need to start thinking before I speak.’

He shakes his head at your blunt comment, not taking any offense. “I didn’t get it that way.”

‘Oh, well... better not ask more than necessary. There’s no blood on it so at least that’s a good sign.’

Wiggling free from his grip, you rotate your legs over the side of the bed, intent on getting your switch. An opportunity like this must be taken advantage of, and you’ve wanted to play this game for some time now. Dabi must’ve read your mind, and pulls you back to him with little effort before you get the chance. 

“If I remember correctly, you said you were tired just a few minutes ago.” 

He plucks the game from your fingers, and places it on the side furthest from you. What a cruel world this is, to have paradise so close and yet so far. You can’t help the pout that forms at his actions.

“The situation changed, I’m wide awake now.” you explain to an unmoved Dabi, launching over his lap to get your coveted game back. He picks it up, lifting it over your head with a chuckle. So that’s how it’s going to be. 

Defeat settling in, you retreat for now. A sigh leaves your lips, arms crossing over your chest. You should’ve known better, Dabi has made it clear to you that he wants your attention. Looks like you’ll have to wait until after work to get a taste of Animal Crossing. 

There’s a glint of mischievous in his azure eyes, one that you’ve seen more often than you wish. Dabi sighs in mock hurt, placing a hand over his heart. “Not even so much as a thank you for my efforts. That’s cold, babe. Real cold.” 

“I’m sorry, you’re right. Thank you, it means a lot.” 

He shakes his head, clicking his tongue. “That’s not what I was looking for. Try again, sweetheart.” 

A flurry of thoughts fly through your mind, all competing with one another to offer a solution. Does he want money for it? He should know that you’re not capable of producing that amount, or you would’ve bought the game for yourself. Dabi gives you a moment to think, before offering the answer to you.

He puts his pointer finger on your lip, maintaining eye contact while doing so. 

“Oh, t-that.”

“So glad to see that you’re finally catching on.” 

It could be the summer heat winning over your AC, the room suddenly feeling warmer than it did a few moments prior. You look down at your blankets, focusing on anything other than the person in front of you. This level of teasing is nothing new with Dabi, he always manages to fluster you. 

He sits, relaxed, waiting for you to make a move. There aren’t any other options that you can think of, so you give into what he wants. Moving closer to his face, you feel his warm breath fanning against your skin. Your hand twitches, pressing against his chest to offer balance.

Squeezing your eyes closed, you tilt your head, soft lips brushing over his own. All of your movements are hesitant, your entire body feeling like it’s on fire. Heart pounding violently against your chest, you move to pull back. Only to discover his hand on the back of your head is stopping you from doing so.

Dabi slants his lips back over your own, nibbling your bottom lip. You freeze, the unexpected affection leaving you incapable of reacting. It’s when you squeak that he finally loosens his grip, opening his eyes to take in your embarrassed countenance. 

All things considered, it wasn’t an unpleasant experience. 

You cover your burning face with your shaking hands, feeling the warmth emanating off of you. He makes it even worse by chuckling, the low rumble filling you with indignation. There never is hope of catching a break with Dabi. 

“You might be the one with a fire quirk after all,” he leans forward, placing a hand against your hot forehead. “Mm... that look you’re giving me is too much. You have to be doing it on purpose at this point.” 

Fed up with his relentless teasing, you smack his hand away and purse your lips. He props his arms behind his head, letting you glare at him to your heart’s content. From his lack of reaction, you get the feeling he isn’t too intimidated by you. 

“Whatever, I’m going to bed,” you huff, returning to your side and pulling up the blankets. He doesn’t make a move to stop you, and you take the opportunity to lay down on your side. Refusing to look at him, you focus on the wall. 

Dabi pokes your cheek, which you ignore. 

He lets out a long sigh at your antics, joining you underneath the covers. You hear shuffling behind you, and can’t help but wonder what it is that he’s up to. Maybe he’s succumbing to his own exhaustion, and will let you sleep in peace? What a perfect world it’d be if that’s the case.

The thought is entertained for three seconds before you’re pulled against his firm chest from behind, toned arms snaking around your torso and staying there. His body is always so warm. It doesn’t help that you’re already embarrassed from before. Dabi grumbles something incoherent, placing his head in the crook of your neck. 

Accepting the situation for what it is, you stop moving. He reaches over you to turn off the light, and darkness surrounds you once more. All you can hear are your own labored breaths, and rapidly pounding heart. It might be impossible to sleep like this. 

You’ll call out of work for tomorrow. 

“... Dabi?” you whisper, voice soft and barely audible. He grunts in response, nuzzling further into your neck. For the past few months, there’s been a thought that haunts you at every turn. One that you can never find an answer to, and have been too frightened to investigate beyond your own musings.

It’d be easy to play this off as sexual attraction alone, yet a voice in the back of your head says otherwise. That what Dabi feels for you goes beyond that, into a sinister territory that you want desperately to avoid. Why is it he’s patient -- borderline kind -- with you, yet cruel to everyone else? None of it makes logical sense, his actions erratic and seemingly without reason.

Maybe you shouldn’t know. Still, you ask, against your better judgement. 

“Why do you like me so much?” 

You feel how he smiles against the skin of your neck, the sensation stirring up unknown emotions within. He squeezes you against him once, letting out a low hum as he considers your words. While waiting for him to speak, you hold in a breath. 

“Dunno. Just do,” Dabi offers a noncommittal response, one that leaves you greatly unsatisfied. It seems he’s not even aware of it himself, the effect you have on him unlike anything he’s ever experienced. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” 

“... Alright, I won’t.” 

“Good. Now get some sleep, before I ask you to kiss me again.” 

[twelvedy7]

Twisted - One shot

warning: sensitive topics (drugs). 

I just wanted to write something a bit different. It might be a bit OCC but I thought it might be a great fit for the manga universe.   This story won’t be published anywhere else than tumblr so feel free to save the story if you like it.

Oh and also english isn’t really my native language so sorry if there are incoherences. 

Takano had no sense of self-control. From a very young age he has been a witness of the sheer harshness of his mother and the complete indifference of his father towards their family. Despite how much he tried to convince himself of his difference he inherited from most of their flaws, which filled him with anger every time he thought about it. 

No wonder that whenever he met someone bright, kind, generous and appreciated he became more aware of his whole dark gloomy personality. That was the case with Ritsu he was still viewing today as the 16 year-old teen he used to be a decade ago.

No wonder that when he met this bright, kind and generous highschool kid he had become more aware of his dark gloomy personality. He was still viewing Ritsu as the 16 year-old teen he used to be a decade ago and yet he couldn’t understand for the life of him the reason why such a lovable person would waste their time with him rather than finding another likeable person that would be such a better companion than him.

If all the open rejections from the brunette could make him believe he hated him, he was at least smart enough to read between the lines and see what the other tried so hard to conceal under feigned anger and flustered reactions. 

What seemed to be like a bitter-sweet genuine love story from two ignorant teenagers who lost each other from a foolish misunderstanding was driving him straight into madness. Ritsu was constantly on his mind, invading his thoughts at any time of the day, reminding him of the terrible person he was and how he will never be nowhere near enough for him. Even in the poorly credible reality where the younger one would actually build up the courage to admit his feelings, he knew that their relationship was sealed to failure. 

One day Ritsu would mature and realise how incompatible they were and how idealistic they’ve been this whole time before leaving him to find another person that could offer him the support and love he needed. Maybe one day Ritsu would find the man of his dreams, different from senpai in every way, to finally live the blissful life he aspired to. That’s what broke his heart the most: they were not made for each other. No matter how hard he tried, it will never be enough because they were simply not meant to. 

He imagined Ritsu’s soulmate to be fun, social, caring, communicative and considerate which would make him forget all the turmoil he went through for all this time. His parents might be so enchanted by their personality that the fact they weren’t An-Chan wouldn’t even bother them.

The truth is he was physically and emotionally drained. He couldn’t feel a thing if it wasn’t his love for Ritsu and sometimes he felt as if that was his last tie with sanity. There were times where he would shut down his emotions. When it became too difficult to confront their inevitable fate, he would put himself in a semi-automatic mode working up to 15 hours straight without paying attention to anything or anyone, only accomplishing what he ought to.

Over time, he came to accept that he wasn’t able to love anyone without causing them a great deal of pain and suffering. That’s why he decided to distance himself from the few people who actually cared about him in his life and managed to bring him some split meaningful moments of happiness. It was like a lightning bolt shaking him from side to side, making him surrender to the hope of one day being able to spend the rest of his life with Ritsu and recovering from his long-lost friendship with Yokozawa. He hurt them both and didn’t deserve to be part of their lives. 

His phone vibrated. He broke off his thoughts to center his attention on the alias displaying on the screen: “Taisho” along with a message “I’m here.”

He stood up from the floor, came up to the entrance of his apartment and opened the door. A man of average-height in his mid-thirties was waiting for him. At first glance, he gave the impression of being a regular salary-man coming back home to his family after a long day of hard work. However, he came to discover that the man likely had a long history of debt behind him involving matters such as a costly divorce and low paychecks.

Not bothering to greet him, he pulled out 6,000 yen from his pocket and handed it to the fearful looking man who replaced the notes with a small transparent plastic bag containing a white powder. 

“Same thing next week?” asked the anxious black-haired man, his light blue eyes too faithful to be a dealer squeezing behind his oval glasses. 

“Yeah. See you.” 

Without giving him a second glance, he double-locked the door and came back to his dimly lit living room that felt so lonely without Ritsu here. It would take some time, if not forever, to prevent this heavy load in his heart from manifesting every time he would find himself alone without the prospect of his first love joining him any time soon. 

It still pained him… Nao came unannounced in the office earlier in the morning and asked Ritsu out for something that too likely looked like a date. A walk in the city center, a restaurant, and a nighttime exposure. That bastard. 

The rare times he had managed to take Ritsu out for a date was by forcefully dragging him out of his apartment or bluntly lying by message playing the card of ‘emergency’. He remembered the dull ache he felt in the morning as he realised how easy it was for his “best-friend” to take him out to a full outing while he had to prepare a strategy days ahead just to drink a coffee together. 

Opening the tiny bag in his hands, he chased away his dark thoughts and kneeled in front of his coffee table, pouring half of the powder out on its surface and realigned it in two fine lines with the help of an old credit card. He usually didn’t take such high doses in one shot, but tonight he knew that he needed it. The accumulated pain and overthinking were taking a toll on him. Rolling a paper, he brought it to his right nostril and sniffed the first line, ignoring the burning pain in his cavity before passing it to his left one and repeated the action.

A few seconds later he started feeling the tiny molecules flowing through his blood system, noticing the faster pace of his heart beat and the gradual relaxation of his muscles as the drug invaded his mind.

He closed his eyes. 

As always, the thrill was exquisite. The far away sounds of ambient city noises echoed and at some point the only thing he could decipher in the absolute silence was his own breath. His body was soft and any psychological pain he felt instantly disappeared. It was as if someone had covered him with a warm fluffy blanket while stroking his hair with a gentle grasp, providing him an endless feeling of comfort and security he so desperately needed. 

At that moment, everything stopped and all his troubles went away. Nothing mattered anymore. He was back being a young child pampered by a protective mother he never had with an unconditional sense of love. Pleasurable sensations coursed through his body from head to toes until his spirit went numb and he lost any notion of space and time. 

He reached that moment of nothingness that he wished could last forever.

___ 

“Takano-san!” 

...

“Takano-san!” 

Who was it? 

The voice seemed so far away he wasn’t even sure it was real.

“Masamune!” Why would someone try to break the silent darkness that was surrounding him?

For what seemed like hours, he felt himself trapped in-between the process of gaining and losing consciousness. He didn’t want to be drawn from his deep slumber yet.

He recognized some familiar voices in the background but it was hard to put a name on them as they seemed to continuously echo. 

It took him several more minutes to realise that people were present and it shook him. He became hyper aware of his environment.

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was a bunch of white blouses around him scampering around the room at a feverish speed. 

His mind whirled. The world seemed to be going so fast but his brain was so slow. 

His golden eyes blinked several times to adjust to the brightness of the room. In an instant he was blinded by the artificial light of the leds on the ceiling. 

In the chaos of all the fast-paced strangers around him, he felt a delicate hand fondling with the hair on the short back of his neck and let out a soft tired moan escape his lips. 

“Takano-san can you hear me?!” 

He groggily stretched out his limbs while burying his head on the petite body frame behind him and looked up to see who was the kind stranger offering him such soft intentions. 

Above him were two wide teary green eyes displaying a worried expression. Despite his blurry vision, he could recognize the refined and familiar traits of the man he loved. It looked surreal, having the both of them like this sharing such intimacy in a restless atmosphere.

Next to him was standing Yokozawa in his usual professional attire. He could only watch them through half-closed eyes all the while trying to figure out what they were doing in his apartment in the first place.

“He’s stable now. Overdoses happen regularly when cocaine and other powerful stimulants are added to the equation. That’s what producers do nowadays to boost the effects”. Said a firm feminine voice. He could see the lady in white gesturing around to her colleagues and immediately realised what just happened. She was staring at him, probably trying to jauge how awake her patient was. 

“You were lucky Takano-san. This could have been much more serious.” 

He saw his friend sitting next to Ritsu, his usual severe expression ruptured by the deep crease in his eyebrows. 

“How did you find me?” asked the raven, his voice so weak he wasn’t sure the two others heard him. 

The brunette brought his face closer to his ear, petting his forehead as he replied in a shaky shy voice: “Yokozawa-san found you like this…” he heard a sneeze. “The front door was unlocked and your phone was ringing without you answering it. You… You stopped breathing.” 

He felt absolutely miserable. 

Trying to shift his position to have a better view of his comrades, he caught the look of utter disappointment and guilt from his older friend. He probably thought that he was long done with this dark hazardous period of his life. 

“I’m… I’m sorry... I didn’t want to…” 

His battle to stay awake was getting harder and harder. 

“It’s okay Masamune. Just rest for now.”

The nurse took a hold of his wrist and stuck the intravenous line with a patch. 

“We’re going to transfer you to the clinic as you need to take several tests. You’re safe now but your body needs to recover.” 

The hand that was playing with his hair resumed and he let his head fall back on his lap. This combined with the liquid in his body led him to a sleep without dreams.

___

When he woke up again, he found himself buried under the sheets of a hospital bed. It took him some time to become accustomed to the artificial lighting of the room. Gathering enough energy to finally keep his eyes open, he gazed at the clock at his right indicating 4:55AM.

The first thing he felt was an atrocious headache that hit him with a massive chest pain undertaking his whole body. He noticed the numerous wires connected to his skin accompanied with the steady regular bips of a machine.

He heard a light snore on his right. Shifting his head, he immediately saw the small fragile figure crawling up into a ball on the couch. A cheap blanket was covering him from toes to his neck. This sight made him feel so terribly selfish. As seconds went by he started getting back to a normal state of awareness despite a fizzy pang at the back of his skull. 

With as much strength as he could gather he sprawled a hand towards him and rested it on the others’ laps. He stroked his thigh lightly with the help of his thumb and stared at his seemingly exhausted resting face. He felt so worthless. He knew he had hurt him badly in the past already and the only thing he could think of is that this was too much.

“I’m so sorry Ritsu…”. 

After reuniting with his first love following the 10 years they had spent apart from one another he had started to believe in fate. Yet he had been too trustful, using it as a justification for every one of his impatient and inappropriate moves towards the younger one. Everything became painfully obvious. This whole thing they had was destructive and that was mainly his fault. It was time to finally respect the distance that Ritsu wanted and deserved. He could not go back to these college years pretending that nobody cared about him. 

Now Ritsu would need him. 

Still, they were nowhere near close from getting into a relationship. Too many mistakes had been made. It was crucial for both men to work on themselves first as jumping the steps one more time would only bring them unhappiness.

That day Takano swore he would stop pursuing Ritsu. He’s forever been broken and finally accepting to get help was a start towards a less twisted life.

“It’s okay Ritsu.” 

One day they would be okay. They would get the life they both secretly wanted. 

[blessedbucky]

money power glory

pairing: skinny!steve x plus size!reader

summary: it’s 1921 and prohibition is in full swing. there’s an overwhelming demand for alcohol and steve, one of new york’s most notorious mobsters, wants to cash in. you and your product present the perfect opportunity

warnings: steve’s a mobster and reader is a bootlegger so obvious mentions of illegal activities, alcohol, oral (female receiving), squirting, daddy kink (if you squint really hard)

a/n: please be kind to me this is my first ever reader insert. anyway @gagmebucky said give me mobster!steve and my brain went HOLD MY FUCKING BEER. it’s mostly just me being a history buff and spiraling out of control with plot and having little smut. tagging @strawberrylovessebby and @angel-fire and @genderfluiddiscogay because they asked and i'm a weak bitch for them

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The very first time that Steve meets you, you’re on the back of a massive stallion. The enormous beast is barreling toward Steve and you don’t seem to be making any attempt at reigning the horse in to either make it slow down or move in another direction that’s not straight at him. Steve assumes this is a ploy your father’s come up with to intimidate him and Steve hasn’t gotten to where he is by tucking his tail between his legs and backing down in the face of danger and death. So, while his men curse and scramble around to the other side of the car that’s out of the way of your warpath, Steve straightens, squares his chin, and stands his ground.

Steve Rogers is one stubborn son of a bitch and if he’s going to be working with your family the way he wants to, it’s best you all know that now up front.

Your horse is probably about a foot away from Steve when you finally command it to stop. You’re dramatic and it one last show to intimidate Steve, you make the horse reel back on its hindlegs, kicking up dirt and neighing so loud it echoes. The animal’s hot breath fans out across Steve’s face for a moment before you tug at the reins, make a noise, and the horse dutifully turns to the side allowing Steve a better look at you.

Down here, hidden away in the slopes and hills of the Appalachian Mountains, you’re the opposite of the women that try to flock to the sides of Steve and his men. You’ve kept your hair long, going against the modern fashion. There’s a bandana around your head, keeping your hair out of your face. There’s sweat on your brow and smudges of dirt on your plump cheeks. Even dressed in your dirtied work overalls, he can see you’re all curves—wide hips, thick thighs, soft stomach, plush ass, and he could wax poetry about your oh-so-generous chest.

Steve’s bullheaded, but he’s not stupid. Atop your horse, staring down at him with a raised brow, he’ll admit that you’re the most gorgeous woman he’s ever met. And…he has to unfortunately also admit to himself that you’re off-limits. He really can’t drop the ball on a potentially lucrative business deal by fucking a partner’s daughter.

Steve thinks you’ve both sized each other up enough, so he breaks the silence with a polite, “Ma’am.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you in person, Mister Rogers,” you reply with your southern drawl. Your voice is also sickly sweet. “I hope the trip wasn’t too hard on all y’all.” I hope the trip wasn’t too hard on a skinny little thing like you, you don’t say but Steve hears all the same.

Steve shoots you the same grin he wears when he’s smashing men’s skulls in. You’re a fighter. As much a hellion as that horse you’re riding. Guess Bucky’s been right all these years, saying Steve gets his rocks off on danger.

“Girl,” your father’s voice booms. He’s in a matching pair of overalls, a pitchfork over his shoulder, storming toward you and Steve. “Lord, you’ve got your momma rolling in her grave, treating guests this way,” your father scolds and you duck your head like a proper, chastised southern belle. Your father can’t see the mischievous twinkle in your eye, though. “The hell’d you get that horse out for? You want to break your neck? He ain’t trained enough. Go put that horse back in the barn, wash up, get started on supper, and then you’ll meet this fella you asked to come down here.”

“Yes, daddy.” Steve’s eyes glaze over at hearing the word daddy leave those sinfully beautiful lips of yours. He’s thinking with his dick too much to completely process your father’s words and their meaning. His eyes are still locked on you as you dismount the horse. You flash Steve a smile, dangerously sharp, and he thinks he might be in love.

When you’ve disappeared into a nearby barn, your father claps Steve on the shoulder. “Aw, hell, I’m sorry, Rogers. I swear that girl’s got manners. She’s probably tired. We’ve been workin’ all day to get this corn picked. Way she was making it sound, you got here faster than she thought you would.” He gives Steve a slap on the back now. “Well, go on inside and make yourself comfortable. She’ll talk details with yah over supper.”

Steve blinks, confused. “Sir?”

Your father gives Steve a shit-eating grin. “Ain’t you heard, Rogers? You’ll be talking to my girl. She’s the one that handles the business. All I do is go up in them there woods, sit around with my buddies, drinking while we wait for the moonshine to cook. She sets up all the deals, handles the bookkeeping—” your father pauses and innocently asks, “Didn’t she say all this in them letters she’s been writing?”

No. No, you did not and your father knows that. It looks like troublemaking runs in your blood.

You’re waiting for Steve on the porch—face washed clean, dirt scrubbed away from your hands, bandana stripped from your hair that’s now pulled back with a white ribbon, and wearing in a simple yet pretty cornflower blue dress. You hold the door open, stepping to the side, still smiling at Steve in that predatory way. “Why don’t you come on in the kitchen and we’ll talk business while I’m cooking?”

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A year ago, in 1920, Steve had watched the high and mighty people clamor out onto the streets of New York to pour out and smash their bottles of liquor on the ground. It’d marked the official start to Prohibition and all Steve could think about during the whole spectacle was potential.

Of course, it wasn’t Steve and his crew alone who tried to cash in on the overwhelming demand for booze that was declared illegal. People are always going to get their hands on what they want. There have been tales of men who pass out miniature stills that allow people to make their own gin right there in their homes. Bathtub gin, he hears it’s called. You scoff and turn your nose up at the mention of it and call it exactly what it is—rotgut. You and your father are craftsmen in the art of alcohol. You give people what they want. Quality.

Slowly but surely, you’ve been working to spread your family’s name around. You explain to Steve that your father has been making moonshine since you were a child to make extra cash on the side. When your mother unexpectedly passed, he decided you were old enough to learn how to do it yourself. But like any small-town girl, you want more.

“And once Prohibition hit, cousin, business was a-booming,” you cheekily remark.

Steve wants to come to the rescue. He wants to make you a partner. You’ve got a high-class product that people will scramble to get their hands on. It’s not that watered-down shit he’s had to swallow down at speakeasies. He’ll pay to bring your business to New York. That, you argue, is not as easy as he makes it out to be, and shit goes downhill from there.

You and Steve spend hours arguing. Steve thinks you’re just wanting to be difficult for the sake of being difficult, but you bring up a lot of fair points. Stacking up problems that Steve assures can be tackled with enough money. There’s a reason you and all the other bootleggers are stranded where you are—you need good, dry corn. The hard waters of Kentucky, rich with limestone and other minerals, make the process of making moonshine easier. What about the copper stills you need? Plain steel just won’t do for you.

It’s getting late in the night. You and Steve are both red-faced and as spitting mad as you were at the start. Your father had left you two alone hours ago, shaking his head and snickering, knowing you can handle your own. “Jesus Christ,” you snarl suddenly after staring out the window at the nighttime skies. You stomp over to grab his upper arm. “Keep running your mouth, I don’t care, but you’re gonna have to do it while I’m working.”

By working, you mean speeding through the dark and winding roads of Appalachia in your pride and joy, a Ford car, with a crate of mason jars between you two. Before it gets hot, you explain that local coppers have been trying and failing for years to catch your father in the act. Steve knows the cops don’t think a little thing who looks and talks as sweet as you could possibly be the brains behind the operation. The cops show up on your tail and you cackle before you put on the speed. Steve forgets all about his anger, watching you drive like a maniac under the moonlight, wind whipping your hair around your face. With his backroom deals, greasing the hands of cops with money, he’d forgotten the thrill of this. The chase.

You swerve off the road, parking your car on a little remote trail the cops obviously have no idea about. You both watch as the cops speed away, chasing nothing but a ghost. Well, with how expertly you’ve been driving, they’ve been chasing ghosts all night long. After you both come down from the adrenaline high, you say, “I don’t think this’ll work, Steve. I want it to, but…it ain’t a good move. It’ll be more trouble than it’s all worth.” And you sound genuinely upset about that.

Steve’s not ready to let a woman like you slip out of his fingers just yet. “Why don’t you come up to New York with me?”

You scoff. It’s a bitter sound. “I’m not some blushing virgin that you can get one over on. I know good and damn well what a kept woman is and that ain’t the life for me. I won’t lay around in your bed and spread my legs for you while you take over what I’ve worked hard at building my whole life.”

Steve slides a little closer to you and pushes some hair behind your ear. The late hour makes him brave…or stupid, if he’s been reading your signals wrong. “Sweetheart, I’d love nothing more than to have you in my bed.” You turn your head toward him and he can feel your burning glare more than he can see it in the moonlight. “But that’s not what I meant. I didn’t lie when I said I wanted you as a partner. I want you to come to New York and see what I have and what I can do.”

“I know this may be hard for a city boy like you to believe, but not everything is better in the city.”

“I can show you a few things we do better in the city,” Steve suggests lowly.

Slowly, you turn your head and your nose brushes past his. He can feel the warmth of your breath on his lips. “You usually this friendly with your partners?”

“My best friends, Bucky and Sam, they’ve both fucked me a few times over the years. You’ll learn this fast, honey, but I may have a thing for pretty people that can put me in my place.” He wants to pretend he didn’t hear the hitch in your breath. He leans back and gives you some space. Oh, well. He’s not going to lie about who he is. “You can tell me to fuck off.”

“I think we need to talk about your business practices there, Rogers. I was buried between Minnie Dean’s legs and you don’t see me giving her the recipe to daddy’s moonshine.” Steve breaks out into a fit of quiet laughter. You try to be serious, but you instantly cave and giggle along with him. It really is a beautiful sound.

“You win,” you breathe out after the two of you have gotten control of yourselves. “I’ll go with you. I can bring some corn. You can get a copper still. We’ll see what we can do with the water up there.” You reach out, playfully tap his cheek once, but your hand lingers on his skin. “Get out of the car, Brooklyn. Let’s see what you got.”

Steve lures you out of the car and into the cool autumn night. You two don’t stray very far. Steve leads you around to the front of the car and presses you down against the hood. He tugs at that pretty little ribbon in your hair and you sigh so beautifully when he runs his hand through your locks. Your hair fans out across the steel, glinting in the moonlight.

Pretty words won’t work on you, but you look like a fucking angel. Then, finally, he’s leaning down and kissing you. It doesn’t surprise him your kisses are biting, stinging, a warning that you’re as dangerous as him. Here you are, looking like an angel, but you’re so obviously a serpent underneath the surface. Father Donahue would have some words about a woman like you. Lucifer, a fallen angel, the vile snake come to lead a lamb astray. Steve hasn’t been an innocent lamb in a long time, though.

His mouth drops down to nip at the delicate skin of your neck and you tilt your head back, baring your throat. “Minnie Dean ever return the favor?”

“That asshole brother she’s got came too close for comfort and spooked her off.” You chuckle dryly. “If what you really wanna know if anyone’s ever had their mouth on me down there, answer’s no. I’d hate to suffocate someone with my thighs and have ‘em die on me before I get mine.”

Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, isn’t that a fucking crime? On one hand, yeah, he’s going to be puffing up with pride after tonight because he’s the first person to ever get a taste of that sweetness between your thighs. On the other hand, he wants to kill the people who haven’t treated you like the treasure you are. “Even if you could do something like that, I think I’d still die the happiest man in the world.”

Then, Steve sinks down to his knees in front of you. He carefully settles his hands on your calves and you hiss at the touch of his icy fingers on your flesh. It’s a common complaint. He’ll let your skin warm him up. He slides his hands up your legs, teasingly slow, and begins pushing the fabric of your dress up and out of the way the higher he goes. Steve greedily takes it all in, watching and touching all this smooth, soft skin that’s slowly revealed to him.

Being a good, helpful girl, you take the bunched fabric of your dress from Steve, clutching it tightly in one hand. Your other hand fists in Steve’s hair when he tugs your panties down your legs. He pats one of your thighs and guides you to drape it over his shoulder, giving him more room to play, and he sucks a bruise onto your skin. He takes a deep breath, catching the heady scent of your sex, and he groans.

Steve spreads the lips of your pussy, getting his first taste of you when he places a soft kiss to your clit and his lips tingle. It’s a tease, but it has you sucking in a sharp breath and it’s got him reaching down to press the heel of his hand against his hard cock. He drops his head down a little lower, grinning at the little squeak you give when his nose bumps at your clit. It’s too dark to see, a shame. Teasingly, he presses his thumb against your hole and you squirm restlessly. He replaces his thumb with the flat of his tongue and he moans because you’re so sweet. Sweet and tangy.

Steve slides his tongue up, through your folds, moving right back to that bundle of nerves. It breaks your silence and you moan lowly, sound echoing in the darkness. It only spurs Steve on and he proceeds to devour you. Feasts upon your pussy, cherishing and savoring it almost the same way he used to do with those rare pieces of fruit Bucky would steal when he and Steve were poor, starving kids. His eyes roam up the wide expanse of your body, watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the way your back arches off the car the closer you get to the edge.

Never let it be said that Steve Rogers isn’t a man of his word. You wanted to see what he’s got and he’ll fucking show you what he can do with his mouth. He eases your trembling thigh back down so you’re on steady ground, braces a forearm against your midsection, nurses at your clit, and slides two fingers inside your soaking pussy. He crooks them, searching until he presses against that ridged area.

“Steve!” You slap a hand down on the hood of your car. Your other hand is about to tear a chunk of his scalp out with the grip you’ve got on his hair. “Sweet fucking Lord.” His lips curl deviously. “Steve—oh, God bless—it’s so good. Steve, I—oh, Jesus fucking Christ!”

Steve starts rubbing furiously at that spot inside you, firm and steady pressure. He matches the pace with his tongue, circling and lapping at your clit. You scream when you reach your peak, entire body convulsing, and Steve quickly lowers his head. He moans like a whore when your come squirts into his waiting mouth. He can’t catch it all, though, and the rest soaks your thighs, the front of Steve’s shirt, and your panties. And, fuck, he’s already a mess, anyway. So, he shoves a hand down the front of his pants, takes himself in hand, and furiously strokes until he’s coming himself, coating his hand in thick, sticky white.

Steve makes sure to keep his hands on you, even as he stumbles to his feet. You’re still shaking all over, trying to catch your breath, furiously blinking the stars out of your eyes—or so his ego hopes. “I hope you know how to drive,” you whisper hoarsely. “Because you’re the only way we’re getting home now.”

“And that’s how we do it in the city,” Steve teases.

“Shut the fuck up and help me back in the car.”

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You’re perched on the edge of Steve’s desk. He watches as you take small, careful sips of the moonshine. After a few minutes of rolling the product around on your tongue, you sigh dramatically and turn to look out the window at the looming Brooklyn Bridge with a pinched expression. “It still ain’t Kentucky water,” you grumble. He waits until you reluctantly add, “But it’ll do.”

A smirk plays at Steve’s lips. “Want me to remind you of how I celebrate a new partner?”

[gryffindorcls]

Falling Into Place

Hello, lovely readers!

This was my submission for the Miraculous International Discord's November fanfiction writing contest. (It won! YAY!) 

The theme was "Fall", so I wrote about Ladybug falling off a roof during the Fall which leads to our heroes falling in love.

ENJOY!

WARNING:  SEASON 3 FINALE SPOILERS

---

Marinette slumped and let out a frustrated huff. She flipped over her pencil and ran the eraser across the dark scribbles that covered the page sitting on her lap. After brushing off the paper with the back of her hand, she tried to sketch a new dress. Still unsatisfied with her work, she tore out the design, crumpled it up, and tossed it to the side.

Usually, designing was the perfect way for Marinette to take her mind off of things for a few hours, but today’s thoughts were all-consuming. She’d even gone to her favorite spot in the Trocadero Gardens in an attempt to calm her racing mind; however, much to her chagrin, nothing was working.

She threw her head back and allowed her skin to soak in the warmth that radiated from the sun’s slowly fading rays. While the failing light of day gave the gardens an ethereal glow, a crisp chill was beginning to settle over the city. The goosebumps on her arms were a subtle reminder that she was not properly dressed to spend any length of time in the cold Autumn air that was expected to arrive after sunset.

Marinette knew that she needed to leave, but her head still felt fuzzy. Thoughts of the previous day swam through her brain as she began to muster the energy to pack up her belongings and walk home. Unfortunately, she soon discovered that she was not yet ready to move from the steps of the Trocadero. When she finally gave into her desire to stay a few minutes longer, she closed her eyes and replayed yesterday’s events in her mind.

***

It had been late...too late. Ladybug was tired of dealing with Hawkmoth’s nighttime Akumas. It was three o’clock in the morning, and all she wanted to do was sleep. She was weary in both body and mind, for the strain of being the new Guardian was beginning to take its toll.

The number of Akuma attacks per week had steadily increased since Fu’s departure, and Mayura now seemed to be even more active than she was before. Were it not for Chat Noir’s encouragement and support, keeping up with her civilian life on top of being Ladybug would have been an impossible feat. Nonetheless, she was tired, and she knew that she needed a break.

To make matters worse, a steady rainfall had made that day’s Akuma battle particularly difficult. For both heroes, the world had been rendered nearly unnavigable by shallow pools of water that threatened to make them lose their balance. After an exhausting fight, Ladybug threw her Lucky Charm into the air and called for the Miraculous Cure.

She knew the time left on her transformation was limited, but the sensation of standing still was euphoric. For a brief and fleeting moment, she felt completely at peace.

“Why are you still here?” her partner called out, breaking her out of her reverie, “I just recharged, but you only have a few seconds before you change back!”

Ladybug’s heart began to race as the final warning beep on her Miraculous pierced through the night. She turned to Chat who stood wide-eyed on the other side of the rooftop.

Without taking the time to scan her surroundings, she began moving towards the edge of the roof.

“Don’t look!” she yelled in desperation.

While reaching for her yo-yo, her foot landed on a slick patch of concrete that caused her to stumble backward.

“Ladybug!” Chat screamed as she began to fall into the alleyway below.

She plummeted towards the earth with her face pointing towards the sky. As she fell, the bright pink light that accompanied her detransformation flooded the confined space.

Marinette closed her eyes and braced herself for the inevitable...but the crash never came. Instead, she felt a pair of strong steady arms wrap around her body and pull her close. The familiar smoothness of her partner’s suit slid against her bare hands as she melted into his embrace. His heart raced beneath her cheek as he cradled her against his chest.

“I got you,” Chat whispered breathlessly into her ear.

“Thank you, kitty,” she replied, her heart beating equally as fast, “You...um...you can put me down now.”

His long, golden hair brushed against her face as he shook his head. “I-I think I need a minute...could...could you give me a second?”

The reality of what had transpired over the last two minutes came crashing into Marinette’s brain. After taking a moment to process her thoughts, several burning questions thumped against the forefront of her mind.

She swallowed against a dry throat. “Chat?”

“Yes?” he said shakily.

“Did you see who I was?”

“Yes.”

“Are we close in our civilian lives?”

“Yes.”

“Is that all you can say?”

“No...I-I’m just...I saw you, and I’m afraid to look again.”

Marinette’s heart sank. “Oh? And why is that?”

He sobbed. “Because I’m not supposed to be this lucky...or unlucky...or...I-I almost lost both of you...I don’t know what I would have done if that had happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“She was right...that’s why...all along...you...the feeling in my chest every time I saw you. I didn’t know what that was. I know now...God, she was right!”

“Who was right? Chat look at me.” Marinette pushed herself away from her partner only to find a broken expression plastered across his face.

She'd seen pain like that on him before. Images of cold blue and stark white flashed across her mind and caused a shiver to course through her body.

Marinette needed to calm him down...fast.

She reached up and touched his cheek. “Hey, kitty, could you take me home?”

He took a stuttering breath and nodded against her palm. “Sure, Princess. Just hold on tight, okay? I’ll keep you safe.”

“I know you will.”

As soon as Marinette had secured her arms behind his neck, Chat pulled her against his chest, got onto his feet, and unsheathed his baton. In one swift movement, he launched them into the night and bounded across the rooftops. However, instead of putting her down when they had reached their destination, Chat stood silent and unmoving on her balcony.

“Hey...um...you can let go now. I can stand. I promise I’m okay,” she murmured against the collar of his suit.

His muscles tensed around her. “Mmmhmmm...sorry.”

“No...no, don’t be sorry, Chaton.”

“I-I just need you to be safe.”

“I am.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, you can put me down. I’m not hurt. You saved me.”

Hesitantly, Chat gently placed Marinette’s legs on the ground. She slowly removed her arms from the back of his neck and dropped them to her sides.

He looked away. “I guess you want me to leave now.”

“No, Chaton.” She reached out and placed a reassuring hand on his forearm. “Please come inside. It’ll give us time to talk.”

Marinette took his hand and guided him to the windowed hatch that led to her room. Once inside, Chat sat at the end of her bed and stared at his hands in his lap.

“So,” she started, “you said we were close in our civilian lives. Can I ask how close?”

He looked up. “Will I have to give back my Miraculous if I answer that question?”

“No, I’m the Guardian now, and you will get to keep your Miraculous no matter what is revealed tonight. You are my partner, and you’re irreplaceable. However, I can’t help but wonder...is that what’s really bothering you about this situation?”

“No.”

“Okay...then what’s on your mind?”

“I realized something about...umm...someone said something to me today, and it’s all I’ve been able to think about. I was kind of distracted during the battle and up on the roof, and then you almost fell...what if I had been too late? What if I hadn’t caught you? What then, Marinette? You mean so much to me. You always have.”

“But you did catch me. Right now, you’re acting like we’re close friends who see each other every day. Are we really that close?”

He slumped. “You sit behind me in class.”

Everything inside of Marinette froze. “I...what?”

“You’re my friend, and...well, today I...she...and now…I can’t. I’m sorry...I can’t.”

“Chat, are...um...,” she took a deep breath before continuing, “I know you’re not Nino...are you Adrien Agreste?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, my…okay. T-that’s a lot to process, but we can do this. Ummm...would you like to detransform before we continue this conversation? Would that make you more comfortable?”

He shook his head. “I hate to do this, but I really need to get home. I have a photoshoot that starts in three hours.”

“But, Cha...no...Adrien, we need to talk. I need to make sure you’re okay. I can’t have you go home upset.”

“What?”

“Y-you can’t get Akumatized. Please stay.”

“You’re worried about me?”

“I care about you, and I don’t want you to be sad. It could be really bad if you stayed upset.”

“You thought I was upset? Oh, Marinette...I’m sorry.” He crawled across the bed, situated himself in front of her, and took both her hands in his own. “I didn’t mean to make you think I was upset. No...I’m a little...well, more than a little...I’m overwhelmed. The shock of seeing you fall, learning your identity, and then...well...never mind. Look, I’m fine. I think I just need to sleep. Are you sure that you’re okay? Because you not being okay is the only thing that would make me upset right now.”

Marinette laughed. “Yes, kitty. I promise that I’m okay. Thanks to you, I don’t have a single scratch on me.”

For the first time that night, he smiled. “I’m relieved to hear that. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.”

“Will I see you tomorrow?”

“Yes...but I’m going to be busy during the day. We can talk during patrol.”

“Okay.”

Chat pulled her into a tight hug. “Goodnight, my lady. Text me if you need anything, and please take care of yourself. I’m happy that you’re okay, and knowing that it’s you is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Marinette’s heart pounded against her ribcage. A mix of confusing emotions swirled around her mind, rendering her unable to speak.

When her brain began functioning again, she perked up just in time to see Chat climbing through the hatch above her bed.

“Goodnight!” she called out with a wave before dropping her voice to a whisper, “What happens now?”

***

Marinette sighed and tapped her pencil against the paper in her sketchbook. After Chat had left last night, she’d fallen into a restless sleep. The exhaustion she now felt today was lowering her ability to concentrate.

Just as she was about to give up and go home, she heard footsteps approach from behind. Her body tensed as she readied herself for a confrontation.

“I thought I’d find you here,” spoke a warm and loving voice, “What are you doing out in the cold, my lady?”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Adrien.”

Marinette gasped as a gentle pressure pressed down on her shoulders. She reached up and was surprised to feel both a wool coat and a warm hand. Upon turning around, her gaze met two bright green irises.

“You’re shivering,” he said with a furrowed brow, “Why are you out here without a coat?”

“I didn’t realize it would be so cold.”

“It’s November.”

“Well, it was warmer earlier.”

“The sun is going down.”

Marinette turned her head away. “Yeah...I know.”

Adrien took a seat next to her on the stairs, snaked his arm around her shoulders, and held her against his chest. “We need to get you warm. Also, I thought you were going to take care of yourself today. Where is your jacket?”

Her breath hitched. “I...I left it at home. I’ve been a little distracted today because of...umm...you know. At least I know I can always count on you to take care of me when I need help.”

Adrien gave her a small squeeze. “Always.”

“Thanks, Chaton.”

“My lady, I...I...can we talk?”

She sucked in a breath through her teeth. “Here? There are a lot of people around, and if you want to talk about what I think you want to talk about, I don’t think we should have this conversation out in the open.”

He shook his head. “No, no...umm...not here. I was hoping we could talk at your place...maybe? Only if you’re okay with it that is. Umm...my dad is kind of weird about guests, and I couldn't wait until our next patrol. Also, your room is kind of...what’s the word...warm, and we didn’t get to finish last night. I did a lot of thinking today, and I have some things that I really need to say. But then again...I don’t want to seem pushy...ugh...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t invite myself over like that...it's rude. I just…”

Marinette pressed her finger against his lips. “Hush, Chaton. Adrien is my friend, and Chat is my partner. You are always welcome in my home.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“The only reason I ask is because your face is turning redder than your suit. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

She lifted her hands and pressed them against her cheeks. “I didn’t even realize...it must be because I’m still cold. No, you’re fine. Everything is fine.”

He pulled away from Marinette. “Are you sure? Because I know I’ve definitely made you feel uncomfortable in the past. Not so much now, but when we first met you...umm...yeah.”

“Well, things are different now.”

“Different...how?”

It was true that her friendship with Adrien had improved over the past few months, but that was only because of her decision to move on from him as a romantic interest. Her stutter had faded, but today it was threatening to rear its ugly head. A sadness that she had done her best to repress began to bubble in her gut. She shook her head to clear the unpleasant feelings from her mind.

With a smile, she met Adrien’s gaze. “Come...if we want to make it back to my place before it gets completely dark, we need to leave now.”

Adrien scratched the back of his neck. “My bodyguard drove me here, so if you wanted to go in my car, that’s an option.”

“That sounds perfect.”

“Really? Great! Uhh...shall we, my lady?” He stood up and extended an arm for her to take.

After closing her sketchbook and slipping her pencil into her crossbody bag, she cheerfully linked arms with him. “We shall.”

When they eventually reached the car, Adrien opened the door for her, and she slid into the backseat. Moments later, he took his place in the seat next to her. They sat in a comfortable silence all the way to her family’s bakery.

Upon their arrival, Marinette quickly whisked Adrien up to her room before her parents had the chance to embarrass her. Once they were upstairs, they made their way to her chaise and sat down at opposing ends.

Adrien wrung his hands. “I want to apologize for last night.”

Marinette cocked her head to the side. “Why? You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s my fault that you found out my identity.”

“It’s not that. I want to apologize for leaving before we had the chance to really talk about this. Honestly, I don’t care if I show up to a photoshoot looking exhausted. That’s what make-up is for. The truth is...I...it had to do with something that Kagami said to me yesterday.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Did you know that she told me that she’s in love with me?”

“I assumed that she did. That’s why I left after I helped you two escape the Bourgeois’ anniversary party. I didn’t want to get in the way of anything that may have been happening between both of you. I’m happy that the two of you got together.”

“That’s just it...I didn’t get together with her. Not officially. We went out on a few dates, but that’s about it. I could never fully commit...because I’m still hopelessly in love with someone else.”

Something suddenly clicked inside of Marinette’s brain. “If he’s Chat Noir, then that means that the girl he’s been in love with all this time is…”

“Me,” she whispered.

Adrien hung his head. “Yes.”

“You’re in love with Ladybug.”

“Oh, um...yeah. I’m not just in love with Ladybug...I’m in love with you, Marinette. Yesterday when I saw the two girls who hold my heart meld into one amazing person, I could barely function.”

“Wait...me? You...Adrien Agreste...are in love with me?”

“Yes, and I think I have been since the day I handed you my umbrella. Something Kagami said to me yesterday made me realize that you’re not just a friend to me. I’ve always felt like you were more than that. Now that I know that you’re also my lady, I finally know why.”

“What did Kagami say to you?”

“She wondered if I was ready to be her boyfriend yet, and I said no...again. Kagami then asked me if it was because I was still in love with you. I always knew you were special, but hearing Kagami say that to me...let’s just say she was right. Last night, I went to sleep trying to figure out how I was in love with two people at the same time, and then after the battle, I discovered that I was actually in love with only one person. That's why I freaked out.”

“It’s okay...I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t freaking out, as well.”

“And I’m sorry...I know you’re in love with Luka. I seriously debated telling you all of this, but I can’t lie to you...especially not about how I feel. I...”

She cut him off. “No...I’m not in love with him. I mean, I love Luka, but not romantically.”

“But I thought...you two were always so close. You always told me that you were in love with someone else. If it’s not Luka, then who is it?”

Marinette took a deep breath and gathered all of her courage. “The boy that Ladybug kept turning down Chat for...well, he’s sitting in this room.”

Adrien’s eyes lit up. “Me?”

“It’s always been you. I tried to give you up a few months ago, but I failed.”

“Really?”

She bit her lip. “That umbrella you gave to me is my most prized possession. It reminds me of the day I fell in love with a kind-hearted boy who stood in the rain and told me that he’d never really had friends before. My heart has belonged to him ever since.”

Adrien tentatively scooted closer. “Marinette, I…”

“And then...I couldn’t talk to you for the better part of a year…”

“Marinette…”

“Didn’t you ever wonder why I was always such a spaz around you? I just kept messing up everything, and OH GOD...I did so many embarrassing things…”

“Marinette…”

“There’s that time I gave you Master Fu’s prescription...oh, and the wax museum...ugh...this is horrible!”

“Marinette!”

She looked up to find Adrien sitting inches away from her. “Y-yes?”

He reached over and took her hand in his. “May I kiss you?”

“What?”

“I’d really like it if I could kiss you.”

“We’ve kissed before, Chaton.”

“That’s not fair...I don’t remember any of those kisses.”

“Are you sure you want to kiss me?”

“Only with your permission.”

Marinette couldn’t believe this was happening. It felt like a dream...a beautiful dream come true. Butterflies fluttered around her stomach as she gave him a small nod. Seconds later, Adrien’s lips crashed onto hers. He let go of her hand wrapped his arms around her. He pulled her closer while she reached up and cupped his cheeks in her hands. Fireworks exploded inside her as he deepened the kiss.

All too soon, they broke away.

Adrien chuckled. “Wow.”

Marinette nodded. “Yeah...wow.”

“Do you think we could do that again?”

“We have to go on patrol soon.”

“I think Paris will survive one night without us.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “You see...you say that now, but what happens when an Akuma shows up?”

Adrien pressed his nose against hers. “Hawkmoth’s Akumas show up regardless of whether or not we’re patrolling. At least tonight we’d have the purr-fect incentive to finish the fight quickly.”

“Yes, you’re right, and who are we to turn our noses up at something that would boost our effectiveness as heroes?”

“Does that mean I can kiss you again?”

“Yes, Adrien. You can kiss me again...whenever you want.”

“As you wish, my lady.”

“Kiss me, my prince.”

Adrien once again closed the space between them. She smiled beneath his lips. It was the perfect moment. She suddenly felt as if she could do anything and overcome any challenge as long as she was with her other half.

Marinette knew they were going to be okay. Her heart told her that their love would not end in disaster, and her mind assured her that their relationship would not lead the world to ruin. That timeline was gone. Paris was safe. They were safe. Everyone was safe. Together they could protect each other from Akumatization. This time, their love would not be their weakness; instead, their love would be their shield. It was finally their time.

They spent the rest of the evening in each other’s arms until Adrien was called to return home. Before leaving, he promised to see her again the next day. Marinette waved goodbye as he climbed through her hatch and disappeared into the living room below.

That night, Marinette went to sleep with a smile on her face and a fullness in her heart. Everything was finally falling into place.

AO3

FanFiction

[sherrybaby14]

One Bed with Number Two

Summary: This was based off of a prompt, but I limited it down to Bedsharing which leads to nighttime activities

Warnings: Dubcon, fingering

Pairing: Diego x F Reader

“I’m so tired.” You let out a yawn. “As soon as you get this door open I’m passing right out.”

“It’s dark. I’m having a hard time lining up the key.” Diego fiddled with the door.

“The great number two not having perfect aim?” You leaned against the rail of the motel balcony. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

“You know I don’t like it when you call me that.” He shook his head. “And it’s not the aim. The key doesn’t fit. Maybe they gave us the wrong one.”

“Jam it in there.” You put your hand over Diego’s and pushed hard.

Sure enough there was some resistance, but the key went in the slot. Diego glanced over his shoulder at you with a smirk. His smile sent a shiver down your spine and you realized you were inches from his face.

“Sorry.” You pulled your hand away and stepped back.

“Are you sure I’m the superhero here?” Diego turned back around and opened the door.

Why would his smile make you shiver? Why were you uncomfortable being close to him? You were tired. That was all.

“We’ve got another long day tomorrow. We should both go to bed.” Diego flipped on the light.

You followed him into the room and almost smacked into his back when he stopped walking.

“Why the traffic jam?” You looked over and saw the bed. “Oh.”

“I can go asks for another room?” Diego’s voice went up a pitch.

Maybe he noticed your earlier flinch away. The last thing you wanted was to make the man uncomfortable.

“No.” You dropped your bag in the chair. “It’s late. Besides we’ve shared a bed before.”

“When we were kids Y/N.” He didn’t move as you plopped down on the edge and took off your shoes.

“You’re still a kid.” You tossed your shoe at him.

He didn’t move as it clunked against his chest. A smile crossed your face.

“I guess I’m the one with perfect aim tonight.” You undid the fly on your jeans and shimmied them off.

“Do you want to change in the bathroom?” Diego looked away.

“Um…I sleep in my underwear and shirt every night. You know this.” Now he was the one acting weird. “Just because we have to share a bed doesn’t mean I’m going to change my routine.”

You reached behind you and unhooked your bra, shimming the thing off and yanking it through one of your sleeves.

“If you feel like sleeping in extra clothes be my guest.” You pulled down the blanket. “But I’m passing out.”

You cuddled into the bed and under the blanket.

You heard some shuffling and assumed Diego was getting down to his boxers. The way he slept every night too. The light clicked off and the bed dipped next to you. There was nothing weird about this. Just two friends sharing a bed. You sighed in contentment as you drifted off to sleep.

The room was hot. Your body was hot. You rolled your shoulders and felt sticky skin behind you. Your eyes popped and you tried to shoot up, but a hand on your hip held you in place.

“Shhhh Y/N, its just me.” Diego kissed your neck.

“What? What are you doing?” This wasn’t a friendly position.

“What we both know you want.” His fingers fanned out over your stomach and dipped below the band of your panties.

“Huh?” You didn’t understand. This wasn’t what you wanted. He was your best friend.

While your brain tried to process your body didn’t react and his hand cupped your sex. You gasped and grabbed his wrist, ready to yank it away when his fingers touched your clit with the exact amount of pressure in the exact right spot. You froze as a moan left your mouth.

“Hmmm.” He kissed your neck as he started to rub your bundle of nerves in a way that brought to life nerves you didn’t know you had. “You’ve been teasing me forever. How long did you think you could get away with it?”

“Nooooooo.” You couldn’t get the protest out before his fingertips made you lose concentration again.

Whatever he was doing brought you from zero to infinity in a manner of seconds. You parted your legs to give him easier access. He shifted on the bed and slid his other hand down your ass. Diego kept going until he was at your pussy. One finger entered you with ease and another moan came out.

“Strutting around in front of me with that ass?” He nipped at your neck. “Taunting me with those evil looks?”

He moved his fingers in a way that was indescribable. Your body already started to shake with need. You were torn if you wanted a release or for him to touch you like this until the end of forever.

“Well jokes on you.” He put his mouth next to your ear. “I requested one bed, but you were right about one thing?”

You were moving your body in unison with his touches, as your release began to crest. You tilted your head to look up at him. Even in the dark you saw the lust on his face, the way he was looking at you like a predator.

His fingers twisted and pulsed against you. The orgasm came crashing down hard. You screamed and felt like you were losing control over any functions. Your body was not your own. It belonged to Diego.

“I always have perfect aim.”

[reactivebangtan]

vision // kth.

REQUEST: ALSO omg so adding to how much i’m in love with you i was wondering if you’d do a taehyung reaction (or all of them or some of them OR WHOEVER YOU CHOOSE) where you struggle with night terrors or sleep paralysis (or something along those lines??) and just like the process of him helping you during the late hours? idk if that even made sense cjdjsksk REQUESTED BY: @viatae WARNINGS: none! NOTES: taehyung is otw to soothe your fears with his dreamy dulcet tones asap

you never hated nighttime, but you’d grown to have a particular disliking for that short period of time within it that carried you between sleep. maybe it was the fact that you’d always found the dark to be eerie and haunting in a way you can’t explain. maybe it was the possibilities it held or what could possibly be lurking within, or perhaps the endlessness of it -- how frozen it seemed, motionless and still. or, maybe it was nights like these.

you can’t remember the bulk of your dream or if any of it even made sense, but you remember the feeling of being watched, of being followed, of something just over your shoulder. maybe it was all in your head, just a figment of your imagination, but the fear and the panic were real -- it settled into your bones and ached in your chest, until you could feel it trembling down to your fingertips and constricting the very air you breathe. and, most would find that opening their eyes in the midst of a nightmare was relieving, a thank god it wasn’t real, but as you stared up at the ceiling and could feel the numbness crawling under your skin as you laid stiffly, you knew no relief was coming for you. not when the primal fear to run ran like ice through your veins as your eyes settled on the dark, skulking figure stood in the farthest corner of your room, and your body refused to move. the logical side of your brain supplied that it wasn’t real, that you’ve experienced this before, but something about seeing it there made you panic -- maybe it’d had a part in your dream, maybe some part of your brain supplied that that was what had been breathing down your back, but none of it seemed to matter. all you knew was that you were afraid and it was moving closer and god, you couldn’t tell if the chill that prickled along your skin amidst the silence was from it or something else entirely. you wanted to scream, to tell it to go away, to ask it what it wanted, but even if you could you knew you’d get no response. there was something so much scarier about it moving so slowly, instead of simply charging at you; the tension made you feel as if it had all the time in the world to catch you, because it knew it would get you eventually, even if you could run. and, by the time it stopped at your bedside, it still didn’t reach out to you, didn’t touch you, but simply watched. wide eyes took in the way it leaned over you, and you swore you could hear it breathing, though you had no idea if it was looking back -- if it even acknowledged you. the closer it got the louder that eerie sound of it breathing became, and all you wanted to do was scream, to cry, to hide beneath the blankets like a child. and, finally, when you swore you could feel that breath on you, all the tension that had built up in your body snapped and released in one shrill, deafening scream and a sudden jerk of your body. the mattress beneath you shook with the sheer force of it, but you made no notice of it -- it felt like the world itself was trembling around you, after all. ❝ y/n?! ❞ your brain recognized the voice, but couldn’t register it completely, still held too tightly in the clutch of your most recent night terror. the tremors that shook your body were damn near violent, and you felt as if you could claw your own skin off with the need to rid yourself of this feeling that seems to have sunk its teeth into your very being. ❝ babe? hey, you’re okay -- i’m right here. ❞ the warmth that blanketed you was almost foreign, as if you’d forgotten what even a semblance of comfort had felt like, until the smell of his cologne reminded you that you weren’t alone -- you were never alone. he continued to remind you with the gentle tug of his hands against your form until you fell into his embrace, and the way his fingers dug into your skin to keep you still, tucking you beneath his chin and humming so you felt him even in the vibrations across your skin. ❝ you’re okay, ❞ taehyung repeated, his tone soft but his voice firm. ❝ i’ve got you. ❞ as he continued to murmur ‘ i’m right here ’ and ‘ everything’s okay ’ into your hair, you felt the tremors begin to subside, though that same primal fear remained nestled in your chest. the smoothness of his baritone voice dripped over you like honey, slow and sultry and comforting in a way that you’ve only ever found in his company. the singer was always so careful with you, gently rocking you back and forth until even the quickened beating of your heart subsided, and humming along to a tune stuck in his head when his words ran dry and he could feel you relaxing against him. ❝ i’m sorry, ❞ you’d finally break your own silence, your voice revealing the remaining shake that had embedded itself into your bones. ❝ i hate that i keep -- ❞ your voice breaks, your breath skipping in your throat, the sound reminiscent to the aftermath of recklessly crying. ❝ -- that i keep doing this. i know you’re -- i know you’re tired. ❞ taehyung hums in agreement, laying his cheek to rest atop your head as he continues rubbing his hand soothingly up and down your arm, supporting all of your weight effortlessly as he drags you farther into his lap.  ❝ you’re tired, too, right? ❞ even though he asks, he doesn’t wait for even a simple nod. ❝ it’s not like you’re doing it on purpose... it must be scary. ❞ ❝ it’s terrifying, ❞ your reply comes breathlessly, and you subconsciously burrow deeper into his embrace as you recall the terror you’d experienced only moments beforehand. ❝ well, you’ve got me! i’ll protect you. ❞ you don’t see it, but he smiles when you nuzzle your head into his chest and grip his bicep with all the strength your sleepy body has to offer, because that is answer enough for him. ❝ do you want me to sing to you, until you fall asleep? i’ve had a frank sinatra song stuck in my head all day... i won’t sound as good, but you might like to hear it. ❞ a quiet ‘ please ’ is met by another sleepy exclamation of ‘ and, you always sound good, tae ’, before you’re allowing your lashes to flutter shut in anticipation of listening to his latest lullaby. your last thoughts are floating somewhere amongst the stars by the end of it as his voice carries you away on a whim, and suddenly the night doesn’t seem so terrifying when he sings it like that. fly me to the moon, let me play among the stars, let me see what spring is like on jupiter and mars in other words, hold my hand