#they don’t want any kind of progression of a melody they want to hum one single note and then say ‘like that thing you like!

[bilaudad]

“it’s gaslighty” shut up shut the fuck up

"We removed a major character growth moment"

Mindless attempts at pandering like this drive crazy

[glass--beach]

hi j!

my highschool band and I played for the first time at a small music fest. we only sang covers and we're not very good lol, but we kinda want to start making some songs ourselves!!

do you have any tips for songwriting? how do you choose themes and melodies, and what's your process with glass beach?

doing covers is a good place to start! i like to learn songs i like and then try to take them apart and try to understand what parts i like the most and why they work. i do most of my songwriting by playing some chords and humming or singing until i find stuff that works. you can even take chords from an existing song to start with, lots of songs reuse chord progressions. lyrics usually come way way later. once you find two sections that feel connected but contrast each other a bit you're golden (verse and chorus is enough, you can figure out bridges later)

i like to structure melodies as a "question" and "answer", so every first phrase ends in an uncertain place (any note other than the 1st note of the scale, the 3rd and 5th note of the scale are usually good options) and every second phrase ends on a resolved note (the 1st note of the scale, OR the 3rd or 5th if the first phrase ended on a note besides those two). this is more of a guideline than a rule though, plenty of great melodies don’t do that but i find that method to be reliable. i hope that makes sense

next bit of advice i have is to just try to write as many songs as possible, and don’t take it too seriously, especially if songwriting is new to you. spending a really long time trying to get one song perfect can be a trap. lots of people will just idly sing little made up songs to themselves, or to their pets or whatever, that’s the kind of stuff i’m talking about, goofy and frivolous. it should be fun! that’ll give you a lot of practice and make writing more “serious” songs a lot more comfortable. lots of my oldest songs were conceived as jokes.

if you’re trying to write with your band i say take a really simple chord progression (like 2 chords even, definitely no more than 4) and just loop it over and over and jam on it and try our different ideas. you really can write a song with just two chords, I - IV is a good progression for that (ie D - G, C - F, E - A).

this was kinda disorganized and stream of consciousness but i hope it helps! i have spent so long honing my songwriting craft but it is very difficult for me to explain how i actually think about it. keep in mind there’s pretty much no rules and the best thing you can do for yourself is make songwriting fun! good luck writing some songs!!

[coulsons-fullmetal-cellist]

A Drop of Golden Sun

(Joel Miller x singing teacher female)

Words: 3, 692

Summary: Ellie takes up singing lessons and Joel reluctantly joins in. Singing teaching is my profession and this is what I actually do! I would love some feedback on this story as I need to know if it makes any sense to non-musicians. I’m writing an educational paper on the teaching of singing so if anyone also wants to read that, let me know!

Warnings: a bit of a slow burn between two adorable people, some swearing, lots of singing, a grown man being embarrassed, I’ve only seen the TV series so forgive me if my knowledge is lacking

Check out my crazy masterlist here

“How can you tell if someone is tone deaf?”

That was a question you haven’t heard in a while. You weren’t sure how the teenager in front of you would think to ask you, but her eyes were full of curiosity, and you were eager to explain.

“If someone was tone deaf, they wouldn’t be able to recognise the melody of a song. It’s very rare for someone to be tone deaf.”

“It is?” You knew this was Ellie, a newcomer to Jackson. You’d seen her around the school, sitting in the back of music class, not quite wanting to join in, just taking in the strange new atmosphere of singing along. You’d seen her being picked up by what you supposed was her father Joel after school. The two were adorably matched in surly attitude and clashed heads but you felt the love between them. It took a while for them to be properly introduced to everyone, but Ellie seemed more eager to know the towns music teacher, Joel standing closely behind the questioning teenager.

“Can you tell the difference between these two notes?” you started humming a very familiar two notes, a knowing smirk crossed the Joel’s lips. Ellie nodded, unaware of what was to happen. You hummed the same two notes again, then progressed in a faster rhythm, finally you opened your mouth to belt out the final bit to the Jaws theme. Ellie’s eyes opened wide in surprise.

“Wow! That was amazing! Did you write that song yourself?”

You and Joel shared a silent laugh, “Yes, I totally wrote that song myself.” The sarcasm seemed to be lost to the teenager.

“Would you be able to teach anyone to sing? No matter how terrible a singer they are?”

“Oh yeah, if someone has the enthusiasm and is willing to put in the work, then yeah.”

“So how can you tell if someone is a bad singer?”

“Well then, I’d have to hear them sing first. Do you know the lyrics to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star?”

“Isn’t that a kid’s song?”

“Yes, which means it’ll be an easy song.”

“Well, I don’t know the song. They didn’t really teach us that stuff in basic training.”

“That’s okay, I can sing it for you if you want?”

Joel mumbled out, “I know the words.” He scratched the back of his head, hoping his words would be lost but you heard him well.

Ellie looked shocked, “You do?”

“Well, I was a dad, so I know all those kinds of songs.”

You brightened up, “I’d love to hear it.”

He sighed deeply, knowing what he’d have to face. He gave Ellie a death glare before he started off on the nursery rhyme. He started off quite confidently but soon realised all eyes in the room were on him, so he sang the last few lines quickly and let it fade away. You applauded his performance enthusiastically and Ellie joined in.

“Whoo! Real crooner there!”

To say Joel’s glare was a death glare was an understatement, but then he looked at the happiness on your face and softened, his embarrassment replaced by bashfulness.

“That was really good!” You swore you saw a bit of blush crawling up his neck.

“I want to try it!” Ellie then started her own version of the nursery rhyme. Her enthusiasm was almost infectious even if she didn’t get all the words or notes right. You applauded her performance almost before Joel did.

“Do you do private lessons?” the question from the man who just sang a nursery rhyme was one you haven’t heard in a while, “I know you do music at the school and all…”

“No, I mean yes, I can do private lessons. I just have to find the time between stuff.”

Ellie interrupted with a casual shove to Joel’s shoulder, “If you need anything fixin’, this guy’ll do it for you. He was a contractor.”

The laugh that came out of your mouth left her confused but you nodded to the man, agreeing to make an arrangement later.

*****

The story of how you survived an outbreak, and the collapse of society was probably put down to luck. You were managing the dull humdrum of surviving each day, becoming numb to everything you once took for granted. Finding the Jackson outpost became a glimmer of hope. Soon, your frozen heart defrosted with the melting snow. Soon word floated around of your life before everything changed and Maria approached you about setting up a music class in the school and now you came back to your old profession in some form.

How they managed to find a piano, let along a functioning piano at the end of human civilisation was nothing short of a miracle. Soon after, you had the luxury of paper to which you could write down some music which somehow didn’t leave your brain after all these years. You spent countless hours with a pencil and ruler making lines of music before you could start writing musical notes.

Things that were once an unnecessary luxury now became a needed break from the insanity that is the world ending. Jackson had settled into a routine for survival but once life settled a gentle harmony of peace and quiet hummed in the atmosphere. Ration cards were now being used to recreate childhood comfort foods and things that were once forgotten gradually crept back into life. Time could now be spent on things such as reading or randomly humming a song that became stuck in your head. Not having to survive a night in the freezing wilderness or worrying about where your next bite would come from could do that to you.

*****

A knock at the door of the school music room brought you back to when you first started teaching, the nerves came fluttering back. Ellie came sauntering into the room, closely followed by Joel.

“You’re both here for a lesson?”

“Well just me,” said Ellie, “He’s just here for moral support.”

You smiled at his surly face, “You can join in anytime you want. I want to see how you breathe, so I’d like you to take a nice deep breath and recite as much of the alphabet as you can on that one breath. Do that make sense?”

Ellie nodded and took a deep breath, raising her shoulders and managed to do the whole alphabet. You stood up and put your hands under your stomach, “That was good, but you were raising your shoulders, which only uses and eighth of your lung capacity. Put your hands under your stomach,” she copied you, “Now imagine your stomach is a balloon: when you breathe in, you inflate the balloon and when you breathe out, you deflate the balloon.” You demonstrated, letting your stomach go right out and in. Ellie eagerly copied you while Joel casually followed along, he took to the technique more easily than Ellie who was trying to wrap her head around this new way of breathing.

“How are you feeling?” you asked her.

“It feels weird. How’d you pick it up so quick?” she asked Joel.

“I’m older, I’ve had more experience with breathing.”

“You’re old you’d think you’d have trouble with breathing.”

“I’m not that old!” You couldn’t help but chuckle at this exchange.

“Let me know if you start feeling dizzy because lots of oxygen will be getting into your brain.”

“Maybe your brain will get smarter from all that oxygen,” Joel mumbled.

You went and sat at the piano, everything coming back to you now. “We’re going to do some warm ups, get the vocal muscles going. I like to talk them out before singing them. Now, imagine that some freshly baked cookies just came out of the oven,” you paused as you weren’t sure if Ellie would have ever experienced something such as freshly baked cookies.

“How about bread? Just out of the oven?” Joel suggested and that helped bring you back on track.

“Okay, so imagine the smell of freshly baked bread, that lovely smell,” you closed your eyes, “and you just…mmm” you hummed, imagining the taste of bread dancing on your tongue. Ellie and Joel closed their eyes and joined you in this dance of humming. You opened your eyes, “So you know how that feels? We’re now going to add music to it.”

Your fingers graced over the keys as if you never stopped teaching. All twenty years of hardship forgotten and felt like you only did this yesterday. You played up three notes and then went back down.

“I’ll demonstrate what we’re going to do. So hum along to this,” you played the sequence and hummed along, “And when I play the next bit,” you played the next note up to start a new sequence, “This is when you’ll breathe, and then we’ll hum along again,” you hummed along with the next sequence, “Then we’ll keep going up. Does that make sense?”

Ellie nodded but hesitantly looked to Joel for reassurance. “You can do it together or I can do it with you if you like?” She nodded for you to join her, so she hummed along going up the piano.

“How did that feel? I’m going to be asking that a lot.”

“It felt fine. Still weird.”

“Well it’s going to get weirder. That’s how singing goes. So, now we’re going to do what I call yawn singing. Yawning helps get that nice, relaxed feeling in our throat which is important to singing,” you gave a big dramatic yawn to demonstrate, “Let’s try that.” Ellie felt a little awkward yawning along with you, knowing it was something that had always been the source of scorn among others and yet here you were encouraging it. “Okay, let’s put that to music.”

You played the same musical sequence as before, Ellie yawn singing along with you. Joel was just the quiet observer in all this. “How did that feel?”

“It was definitely weird!” Joel just hummed in agreement.

“Now, have you ever laughed so much it hurt your stomach?”

Joel snorted, “Not with her bad jokes.”

“Hey, my jokes are excellent!” You saw the hint of a smile between the two of them.

“Well laughing gets our diaphragm muscles working so what we’ll do is take one tiny breath and go ‘ha ha ha ha ha’. Okay?” You all put your hands on your stomachs and did a few little laughs before adding the music. Instinctively your hands reached up as if to pop little bubbles of music, another memory from before. You realised and became slightly self-conscious of it. “How did that feel?”

“It felt good.”

“Good. Now we’ll actually get to a song!” You got up from the piano stool to place a piece of handwritten music in front of Ellie and Joel. He gave a knowing nod to the title of the song: Do Re Mi from The Sound of Music.

“That brings me back,” he mused.

“What? Back to the time of the dinosaurs?”

You gave Ellie a cheeky look, “So are you saying I’m that old?” That caused a smile to cross Joel’s face, and you joined in, and you continued with the lesson. “The way I like to approach a song is to do the tune, the melody, by itself; then we do the words by themselves; then we put the two of them together. Does that make sense?” Ellie nodded so you returned to the piano and started playing the tune which was one you always started new students on. “Feel free to hum along.”

It took a little while for her to get used to the tune which you knew was completely foreign to her, but she was determined to get the tune on her tongue.

“Alright, we’ll tackle the lyrics now,” You stood up and made your way to Ellie’s piece of music. You picked up the pencil that was on the makeshift stand. “The way we pronounce our words when we sing will be different to how we say them normally. I like talking out the lyrics in the rhythm so we can focus on the words and how they should feel when we sing them. Again, it’s going to be weird, but it’ll make sense once we add the music.” You used the pencil as a pointer and tapped out the rhythm to get syllable.

“When we get to a long note, we have to make sure the end of the word is heard clearly. If you do the long note but fade off then no one will know what word you just sang, so we have to emphasise it, almost making them two separate words. So, ‘Ray, a drop of golden su nuh’” you underlined the n in sun to make your point. “Let’s talk this out.”

Ellie followed along with you quite eagerly, sometimes looking to Joel like an eager puppy learning a new skill. You fed her with enthusiastic praise and her energy was bouncing in the air.

“Okay, let’s put the words to music,” you sat back down on the piano stool and started up the melody again, “Don’t worry, I’ll sing along with you.”

You started singing at your normal volume but softened it once you heard the confidence building in Ellie’s voice. “How was that?”

She shrugged, “Pretty good.”

“Okay, we’re going to get weird again. We’re going to yawn sing this. So imagine you’ve just come out of the dentist, oh wait. Just imagine your mouth has stopped working.”

“Like you’ve been drunk?”

“When have you ever been drunk?” asked Joel.

“I’ll sing this with you,” You started playing the song again. Ellie was trying hard not to giggle at the absurdity of the exercise, Joel once again quietly observing. “How did that feel?”

“Fun! Weird but fun.”

“Good. Now we’re going to laugh sing this. We won’t do the words, every one will be a short little ‘ha’.” You played the song again and Joel joined in softly on this one.

“Now, we’ll go back to singing with the words. When we get to one of the long notes, we’ll imagine we’re yawn singing it. And when we get to any little notes, we’ll imagine we’re laugh singing it. Does that make sense?”

Ellie nodded, eager to sing again. This time around, the change was obvious. “Did that feel any different?”

“A little bit, the higher notes felt better. Can we do it again?”

“Yeah sure, we can go as many times as you want.”

You played the song a few more times, you didn’t want Ellie to tire herself out in her first lesson. Before you knew it, the time had flown by, and the lesson had ended. Her poor face sunk in sadness but lit up when you said you’d see her next week. Joel nodded his thanks as he led her out the door.

*****

Sure enough, Ellie came by the following week followed by Joel. She told you she had practiced, and you believed her. You had started introducing a method you created where the singer uses their hands to sort of direct their voice forward. You mainly created the method to help singers with their breathing as a lot of them tried to breathe before finishing a musical sentence. It also helped make sure a long word ended strong. It was always fun to get students to imagine them poking the end of a word. Ellie took this literally and tried to poke Joel while singing and claiming she was practicing.

Soon word spread that you were teaching privately and more people in the community wanted to take up lessons. A lot of them were ones who remembered music from school and wanted a return to childhood. Others were told that they couldn’t sing which was a common thing with adult students. This encouraged several of the children to start lessons and word of forming a choir was now spreading. You would hope to get it up and running in time for a community talent show. A talent show was something that hadn’t happened in the world for a long, long time.

You found yourself playing on the piano more in your spare time. You fingers remembered how to play certain songs. That corner of your mind letting you play so freely, getting lost in the music. This song was one you hadn’t sung in a while.

Summertime, and the living is easy. Fish are jumpin’. And the cotton is high.

Oh, your daddy’s rich. And your ma is good lookin’.

So hush, little baby don’t you cry.

You sensed someone was watching and you nearly fell off the piano stool. Your heart being left behind to where it jumped out of your body. Joel rushed over to stop you from falling over like a complete fool.

“Shit, m’sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt; your singing was just so lovely.”

You paused, “Oh, thanks. Hadn’t sung that one in a while, put my guard down.”

“I’m not able to let my guard down yet.”

“Give it a few years. Was Ellie having a lesson today?”

“No, no,” he scratched the back of his head, “I actually had a question about a song I’m doin’.”

“You’re singing at the talent show?”

He sighed, “I was convinced.”

“Convinced?”

“Well, strongly convinced by Ellie who went and told everyone I was singin’.”

You laughed, “Yeah, she’s very convincing. So what song are you doing?”

He almost had trouble getting the words out, “Can’t Help Fallin’ in Love with You.”

“Oh lovely, is that for anyone special?”

He coughed out a maybe, but you didn’t question him further. “There’s a part I have trouble with, thought I should ask the expert.”

You went and sat back at the piano, “I’m more than happy to help.”

“Most of the song is fine, it’s just the middle part, ‘the only to the sea’ part.”

You hummed the part, looking to Joel if it was the correct part and he nodded. “Well, “there’s a few reasons why you might be having trouble with it. Sometimes it’s the notes, sometimes it’s the words and sometimes it's both,” you let out a contented sigh, “We can take it apart and see, well hear, where it’s giving you trouble.”

“Normally trouble is Ellie.” You joined in the laugher, noting how his eyes lit up.

“Let’s sing the part on doo.”

“Like that laugh singing?”

“You were paying attention?”

“I have to, to make sure Ellie practices.”

“It will be a little like laugh singing. We only have to lightly touch the tops of the notes. And we barely need any energy for these small notes. Most people tend to punch every note,” you gestured you hands to emphasise your point, “We only have to ‘boop’ them.”

“Boop?”

“Yes boop. I told you singing gets weird. But we’ll go with doo.”

Joel went through the sequence on doo, then dee. He seemed less uncomfortable with the strangeness of the exercises from accompanying Ellie to lessons over the weeks but having to do them himself was a lot different.

“Let’s try them with the words now but imagine lightly touching those notes.” He tried them but you heard he would hesitate on the top notes. “Would you be willing to use your hands?”

He sighed but gave it a go, following your movements. They were less elegant than yours but it did seem to help him with those notes causing him issue.

“Just try them by yourself and hopefully your brain will get used to it.”

“Thanks” he hesitated, “So I’m guessin’ you did all this teaching before,” he waved his hand, “everything?”

“I did. Ellie told me you wanted to be a singer but became a contractor.”

“I’m gonna have to tell her to watch where her mouth runs, but yeah, I did want to be a singer.”

“What stopped you?”

“Life I guess. And more than one person tellin’ me I couldn’t sing.”

“Were they experts?” he shook his head, “Then they had no right telling you.”

“Kinda wish you were around to tell them that.”

“We’re here now.”

“I’m glad we are.”

*****

“That will bring us back to do! Do Re Mi Fa So La Ti Do!”

The applause was rapturous for Ellie’s performance. She did a low bow and made her way back to the audience. Tommy, acting as MC, got up to the assigned performance area. “Another round of applause for Ellie! And now, finally making his debut, let’s welcome my brother Joel!”

After a pause, Joel reluctantly made his way to the front. He sat on the chair provided and placed the guitar on his knee. After a false start, he started strumming the guitar. His voice was softly coming through to the audience, he never once looked out to see how many people were watching him sing. Joel got to the part where he would hesitate, and you hoped your worry wouldn’t mentally pass on to him. The exercises you put him through must have worked because he passed through that part without any issues. Normally, most people would rush towards the end, their brain wanting to finish the song, but Joel didn’t speed up and fade off like he did all those weeks ago with that nursery rhyme.

“Take my hand, take my whole life too. But I can’t help fallin’ in love with you,” suddenly he lifted his head and looked straight into your eyes, “But I can’t help fallin’ in love with you.”

Oh. Oh…

The applause seemed to wash over the thrumming in your head. Surely, he wasn’t singing this love song to you. He was probably just looking to you for reassurance, that’s all it was.

“So, did he win you over with his singing?”

You were lost for words, “He what?”

“What better way to confess his feelings than through a love song?”

Joel had to butt in, “I kept sayin’ she’s a much lovelier singer so it wouldn’t work.”

You had to correct him, “Well it did work.”

“Oh. Oh.”

Ellie was practically singing, “I told you!”

Lovingly tagging @chaithetics @meveispunk @cevans-is-classic @tessa-quayle @boliv-jenta @ellenmunn @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @myloveistoolittle @brilliantopposite187

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

Lucille/Rose/Angel and with any pronouns (henderqueer)) I'd like romantic, only expecting one but fine with having multiple as well, even a platonic one would be fine! I see myself as fun and unique, and fairly confident to a degree, I like to make people laugh and friends would describe me as funny and smart, but if you want to go based off moots here then the highlights are 'fruity' and 'funky little dingus'

I play guitar and love love music all the way, I model and love makeup and all things pink and cute and considering girly and love going shopping especially if its someone else's money /hj and cooking baking all that kind of stuff, I date to keep around and want a long term relationship for the most part, and really just want someone who will support me and my interests and take care of me, while also being realistic and help me keep a realistic view of progress and ambitions. Anyone who's mean for no reason is a no and I need someone who won't play around or make me feel unloved

I like giving things to others as well as getting things, and it's the same way for doing things together and physical touch

Anyways

I am lesbian for real stuff but when its fiction I don't care really, I'm a INFP-T and Libra, not sure about the rising and whatnot, don't know what an enneagram is either

I like vintage and 50s/60s/90s clothing the most and would describe it as very feminine no matter if it's more gothic or preppy, as for physical I'm a redhead with freckles everywhere and a mix of a pear and hourglass, my hair is shorter and kinda shaggy but im currently growing it out

Well, well, well, if it isn't Rose! First off; happy birthday! *forces your match into a cake so he can surprise you*

Vil Schoenheit

Support, honesty, and care; Vil is there with a realistic yet care-filled hand on your shoulder. He would help you build achievable goals for yourself, reassure you and also hold you accountable. He wants to see you achieve everything that you set your heart to, but will also be there to offer you support when needed. 

He is also in a relationship for the long-term, he would only trust his heart to few, in the off chance someone could burn it, but not you, he knows that he can trust his heart with you, his angel. And in turn, he would take care of your heart with the utmost love.

Vil would offer breathy laughs at your jokes and humour, and if you caught him off guard, even a good-hearted laugh. He appreciates your wit, and may even counter every now and then in a friendly battle.

He is also happy that you’re confident in yourself, but if you ever have an off day, he’ll also be there to build you back up.

Vil has connections with the modelling world but also knows that you should make your own name. He would be your number one supporter and would give you a reassuring smile during photo shoots or runways.

Going with his connections, if you have difficulty finding something your style in stores, Vil will either custom order it or make it himself; be it super pink 90’s fashion, gothic 50’s, or preppy 60’s. He would roll his eyes in jest at the ‘somebody else’s money’ but it’s all in good fun… and if it makes you happy, then it’s worth it.

He would hum gently whenever you played the guitar, adding to the melody but not taking away the attention from the song either. He would also listen to your music taste since it’s a way of being closer to you… a piece of you that not many see.

Vil would appreciate anything you get for him since he knows your love language. He also enjoys going on little outings… just hopefully the tabloids don’t interrupt your date. Because of said tabloids, he would at most hold your hand and kiss your temple in public, but behind closed doors, he would be a bit more affectionate (kissing your freckles becomes a hobby of his).

Hope you enjoy your match-up, and your b-day, Rose!

Also, he would be there every step of the way as you grow your hair out, and knows plenty of cute styles for the awkward stages.

[luvyanfei]

anon said. ooo a new blog! can you do confession headcanons where xiao, childe, and scaramouche react to reader confessing to them and the aftermath of it? thank you!  

a/n. xiao’s is kind of terrible ;; ue ue gomenasai

“i love you, [character’s name].”

SCARAMOUCHE.

huh? is this some kind of a joke? if so, it’s definitely not a good idea to mess with his feelings like this, especially when he also shares the same sentiment. scaramouche is almost impressed by your boldness. not everyone has the nerve to confess their love for a harbinger in front of their own faces, after all. when he’s hit with the realization that you’re serious, he secretly pinches himself to make sure he’s not in a dream.

the sharp pain that comes with his nails making contact with his flesh affirms that this is real. he stifles back a genuine smile, choosing to stay calm despite the bliss he’s currently feeling. “i guess it can’t be helped. hmph, you should be lucky i’m rather fond of you as well, [name].” he says that, but he’s the fortunate one to have successfully stolen your heart before others can claim you for themselves.

unfortunately, his time with you is quite limited due to his affiliation with the fatui, so any fleeting moments are captured in photos from the kamera to look back on. he secretly carries a picture of you while he’s out of town on important missions so that he won’t miss you too badly. he fondly looks at your still, yet smiling face to cheer him up after a tough work while everyone else is asleep. well, almost everyone.  

“hmm, who’s that in your hands, scaramouche?” childe asks, gesturing to the photo the harbinger is admiring fondly. scaramouche rolls his eyes to hide his slight embarrassment and hesitates a bit before he answers.  

“oh them? their name is [name], my... sibling.” childe almost gapes in disbelief as he looks at the blue-haired man in shock. 

“you have a sibling? why didn’t you tell me? they’re so cute!” the 11th harbinger squeals in delight, which honestly irks poor scaramouche. he scoots away to give himself some space as he tucks the picture in his pocket for safe-keeping. 

“you didn’t bother to,” he explains matter-of-factly. “now if you’ll excuse me,” he stands up from his crouched position and dusts himself, “i’m going to take a walk, alone.” 

he wanders through a dark forest and grassy fields, until he finds himself standing on top of a cliff, the moon glowing brightly above. he peers up at the twinkling stars in the sky and imagines you beside him, watching the breathtaking view together. humming an unfamiliar tune to himself, scaramouche muses over the past and replays your confession over and over again. if he could, he would respond differently than he did before. 

‘i love you.’ those three letter words echo in his ears like a melody and he allows himself to smile. 

“i love you too, [name].” 

XIAO.

he automatically perks up an eyebrow in confusion. what? is it just him or did you seriously admitted you love him? xiao stammers for a brief second, no words spilling out from his partially open mouth. what is he supposed to say? “thank you?” “i love you too?” 

when he pulls himself together, xiao shakes his head and frowns. his answer is clear and simple: no. you mortals don’t understand just how dangerous it is to get close with someone like him - a yaksha. drowning in the brink of debt and despair, he doesn’t need you to suffer all the same. the dejected expression on your face pains him to a considerable degree, yet he convinces himself, this is for your own good. 

since then, he avoids you like the plague in hopes that your feelings for him will disperse into flames. you deserve someone better, someone who won’t place you in harm’s way, someone unlike him. out of kindness, you still visit him from time to time while you go and do your daily commissions, but your interaction is heavily tense and an air of discomfort seeps through your gaze. why does his chest hurt as if he was impaled with a knife and so much more when you look at him like that? the thought of breaking down and revealing the truth that he’s also in love with you tempts him eagerly, but his pride and anxiety tides over his desires. 

you, on the other hand, is aware that xiao harbors feelings for you. you discovered this secret of his when you climbed the stairs to the spot on the balcony where he was to surprise him with a greeting, but your ears captured a faint voice in the night breeze and you couldn’t stop yourself from eavesdropping on the little conversation xiao was having with himself. he muttered about “rex lapis”, the fate of liyue, and etc. you were about to leave him to his own devices, but the next words he said stopped you in your tracks. 

“will [name] accept me if i say i love them? probably not, i suppose.” you left before he could spare a glance in your direction and a smile graced your features as you happily walked away. and being the persistent individual that you are, you inquire verr on why he’s acting so cold towards you, desperate to seek the answer you need. “xiao is, as you’re well aware, a yaksha who’s experienced hardships throughout his life, and probably lost loved ones along the way. i’m sure,” she turns to look at the setting sun in melancholy, “he doesn’t want to hurt anyone important to him again.”

you plan ahead of time for the best way to approach him without giving him any chance to escape. unfortunately, this is the only thing you can think of as you place a hand on either side of his head, trapping him between you and the wall. xiao looks at you curiously, devoid of amusement. he crosses his arms and frowns. 

“what are you doing?” your hands twitch and you chew on your bottom lip nervously before you explain yourself.

“i heard from verr why you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder, that you don’t want to hurt anyone important to you, but...” you trail off to blink back the tears threatening to burst. 

“it hurts, when you ignore me like this.” your voice is quiet enough that he needs to step closer to hear you. “it hurts how selfless you are. can’t you be selfish just once? i meant what i said and i’ll say it again. i love you.” 

xiao stammers, at a loss for words, before he starts sniffling and buries himself in your arms, crying out apologies as you stroke the back of his hair and gives a closed-eye smile. “it’s okay, xiao. i’m sorry too, for not realizing how much you’ve been suffering by yourself. you don’t have to carry the burden alone anymore,” you say, looking into his tear-filled eyes, “i will always be here with you, no matter what path you choose to take.” 

“even if that path may eventually hurt you?” he whispers in a cracked voice, fingers curling around your sleeves. you nod. 

“it’s worth the pain as long as i can hold you in my arms, like this.” he chokes out a bitter chuckle and wipes away the glistening tears. 

“i love you too, [name].” 

CHILDE.

the harbinger blinks his cerulean eyes once, then twice, and... you find yourself pulled into his arms, as his lips uplift into a jovial smile. “really? you love me? [name], i had no idea you held such deep admiration for me.” you playfully roll your eyes and chuckle as you wrap your own arms around his body, fondly reciprocating his affection.

he’s the fastest to accept your confession than the other two men. you’d bet he would scamper to where he’s staying at to tell every grain of detail to his adoring relatives. 

he writes letters to his siblings about your daily dates and the progress you two are making in your relationship. they tease him for the most part, but they’re happy that he’s found the love of his life and requests that he bring you along with him on his next visit. childe smiles in relief, content that they accept you already despite never meeting you and he asks you if you’d like to come with him to his home country where you can introduce yourself to his family. without hesitation, you agree instantly, eager to meet the siblings he gushes about. 

snezhnaya is colder than you thought, as you hug yourself to preserve your warmth, even with the layers of clothing wrapped around you. “we’re almost there, [name].” childe notices your trembling and rubs his gloved hands against your back. “sorry, it’s a bit chilly here, but please bear with me.” 

you nod and continue on. when a building enters your field of sight, childe stops and grins shyly at you. “this is the place.” breath materializes in front of you as he gestures for you to head on in. almost immediately are you greeted with a little embrace as a young boy wraps his fingers around your waist and grins up at you. 

“so you’re the one who big brother said he’s in love with? have you kissed before? when is your wedding?” the child bombards you with questions excitedly and a girl has to pull him away from you, tonia, you guess. 

“teucer,” childe scolds gently, a light blush colouring his cheeks, which does not go unnoticed in his siblings’ eyes, unfortunately for him. 

a wedding, huh? seeing the sparkle in your eyes, the laughter in your voice, and the warmth of your touch as you idly chat with his siblings makes him hope, that maybe in the distant future, he’ll brave himself to take the next step to further deepen your relationship, for he wants to be with you always. 

as he tucks away the last sleeping child, childe wanders in to your shared bedroom, surprised you’re still awake. “you really love them a lot, huh childe?” he nods seriously, as you pull him to lie down comfortably into bed. 

“but do you know something else?” his breath tickles your ear as he intertwines his fingers with yours, offering a meek smile. you shake your head and nuzzle closer to him. 

“i love you too, [name].” 

[kaekiro]

The Two of Us

Pairing: Eren/Mikasa II Rating: T II Words: 2334 II [AO3] Warnings: Manga Spoilers for ch138 and mentions of sex A/N: Snippets of the life Eren and Mikasa could've had. Eren's POV. 

He had long forgotten what peace was, what it felt like to be free of burden, and what it meant to be normal. But he rediscovers it in the songs birds sing early in the morning, the scent of pines just east of their home, and in her quiet but discernible breaths when she falls asleep at his side. He’s never seen her rest so much or known her to be the sleepy kind, but having led the life they did before finding this place, he thinks that she deserves the sleep more than anyone. The warmth of her body at his side is reassuring in its own way, and for once he doesn’t feel guilty for deciding to spend the day resting alongside her, because now they simply could. 

They quickly established a routine once they had settled, taking turns with chores and cooking and small tasks in between. Bit by bit and day by day, the familiarity of it all puts him at ease, but it’s the changes between them that truly give him a sense of peace. It’s the softness of her hands and voice that makes him feel incredibly safe, and he relishes in how she relaxes when he reaches for and draws her near. 

He learns and memorizes little things about Mikasa, her small habits and talents in sewing and embroidery, and how well she could carry a tune. She had been slightly embarrassed and shy the first time he had asked if she could sing for him, and he wondered if she was even aware of her own talent. During that time, they had decided to have lunch in a clearing she had found some time ago while hunting, one that was decorated with foliage and the greenest grass he had ever seen. Rays of sunlight seeped through and between the leaves of the tree they sat beneath, and he had reached a hand up to study how the light spotted his skin in an array of shapes. She took that hand in hers, and he looked up at her from where he lay against the trunk. Wordlessly, she coaxed him to rest his head upon her lap, closing his eyes as she ran her fingers through his hair. He could have never imagined being like this, unable to believe how different his life is compared to mere months ago. But he starts to become restless when the thought reminds him of everything they left behind, the pending consequences behind it. 

“Sing for me,” he heard himself ask quickly, focusing all his attention on the light blush that colored her face. “Please.”

“You… you want me to sing? But… why?” 

“I…” he began, tightening his grip on her hand when he failed to explain without going back on their promise to not bring up such things. But maybe it showed on his face because her expression shifted into a soft one, and she thumbed a short lock of hair away from his forehead in understanding. 

“What would you like me to sing?” 

“Anything,” he murmured, resting their joined hands on his chest, “anything you want.” 

She nods, and he closes his eyes again, the beautiful melody of her voice lulling him to sleep. 

---- 

They both wonder if they’ll ever be able to fully remedy the nightmares that plague them. He feels awful every time his yells or sudden movements scare her awake, and she apologizes when he wakes to find her crying. Perhaps there is nothing that will fully prevent such things from happening, but it brings them closer together anyway. The cabin had two rooms across from one another and, afraid to cross some unknown boundary, he originally slept separately from her. But soon enough, they found themselves walking across the hall in the middle of every other night when one of them had a nightmare. Sleeping next to one another from then on became normal, almost a necessity, and she didn’t question him the first night he went into her room unprompted just to lay beside her. Instead, she turned to wrap her arms around him and he fixed himself so that her head was tucked beneath his chin. His heart beats a fast but content rhythm at how natural it was to be like this, and though it scared him a bit, he sensed deep down that it was because he was somehow falling even more in love with Mikasa. 

Over time, the furniture in his room collects dust.

----

Sometimes, they argue. The reasons range from small mistakes that come off as careless to things that have either of them venomously questioning whether they made the right decision in running away together. Though it very rarely happens, the latter argument cuts so far deep, effectively silencing and reducing them to stare at each other in a mix of hurt and anger. The argument never progresses farther than that though, and instead ends with her closing their bedroom door behind her and him engaging in work to distract himself. But when their emotions wind down, they seek one another out, and they work to resolve the issue no matter how long it takes. He knows that the hurtful things said were out of anger, but it does little to assuage that constant fear that deep down, a part of her regrets their decision. 

“Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened if we stayed back there?” he asks her one night as he lays next to her, looking at the book at her lap and then up at her.

The question visibly startles her, and she stares at him with more concern than he expects. She promptly closes the book. “What?” 

“It’s just that… sometimes I worry if…” 

“If what, Eren?” 

“If you are really okay. Being here with me. I’ve made a lot of mistakes… and I still don’t fully understand why you choose me.” 

It’s silent for a moment as his words hang in the air, but then she twists her body towards him, taking his face in her hands. “Eren, listen to me. I choose you… because you’re you. I meant what I said that day, that hasn’t and won’t change.” 

His eyes begin to sting as they look over her thoughtfully, and she implores him to believe her by kissing his forehead and lips and encasing his body with hers, whispering the only three words that could put his fears to rest. 

----

He accidentally stumbles upon her as she dresses for the day, his eyes widening at the unexpected sight of her clad only in a skirt and bra, her blouse in one of her hands. He quickly turns away while apologizing profusely, feeling his face burn hotly as he drags a hand down the length of it in shame. There are sounds of clothes rustling, and then her footsteps as she crosses the room to stand in front of him. Her own face is tinged, but she offers a sweet smile when he finally manages to look at her. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

She walks out of the room then, leaving him to stand there, confused and unsure of what to make of her words. He swallows around the dryness in his throat, forcibly distracting himself with thoughts of other matters. 

Though after the incident, he senses another change between them. Without realizing it, the few reservations they still had despite being together had disappeared, and they became comfortable with one another in ways they hadn’t before. More often than not, they get ready for the day and for sleep alongside each other instead of separately, and their affections are no longer prompted solely for consolation but within the little moments of their life. Sometimes she kisses him upon thanking him, and he takes her hand in his when they travel somewhere together. And sometimes, they crave more than chaste kisses and innocent touches.

The night had been like any other. She had just finished changing into her nightgown as he entered the room, feeling too lazy to get ready for bed just yet. He sat at the edge of the bed and fell back, unsure why he was more tired than usual. She moved to sit and plop right beside him, voicing the bit of concern she had. In turn, he insisted that it was nothing, but as he spoke, something caught in his throat that sent him into a coughing fit. He had to put his hand up and wave her off so that she’d know it was nothing serious, but she gets up and returns with a glass of water to help him anyway. He sits up and downs the entire thing in a few gulps, feeling instant relief. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly, tugging on her hand and looking pointedly at her mouth. She leans over and kisses him, humming against his lips. She pulls back slightly, and they gaze at one another until she kisses him again, again, and again. 

Mikasa uses his shoulders to balance herself, and he lightly runs his palms over her forearms. His eyes open in somewhat of a daze when she suddenly stops, and he gives her a questioning expression when she suddenly looks somewhat nervous and contemplative. Before he can ask if she’s okay, she kisses him fiercely and slips her fingers beneath the collar of his shirt. It takes him by surprise but he hardly thinks much of it as he returns her kisses with equal fervor, his hands moving from her forearms to the small of her back. It when she pulls back and she shifts to straddle his lap and press her body completely against his that he begins to pick up on what’s happening, and the room starts getting too warm because he is acutely aware of how her nightgown has ridden up on her thighs, how the heat of the newly exposed skin is easily felt through his own clothing. His wide eyes convey questions and concerns, and she answers by taking his hands and kissing his knuckles, guiding his fingers to the edge of her gown. 

“Mikasa—” he whispers somewhat urgently, stilling their movements and she pauses, averting her eyes as she leans back. 

“Sorry. I… didn't ask if this was okay.” He shakes his head immediately, keeping her from moving away. 

“That’s not what I meant,” he says more firmly, curling his fingers around her wrists. 

“It’s…” a sigh escapes him in a heavy, nervous breath. “What if I hurt you?” 

Her mouth hangs open a bit, but then closes with a small but reassuring smile. 

“I trust you, Eren,” she answers before kissing his cheekbone, her lips very close to his ear when she adds “only you.” 

Her words and silent affirmations send a jolt through his heart and bones, and within moments they are nothing but a tangle of limbs as their mouths mesh and gasp for air between kisses. She helps him remove the thin cotton of her gown and undo the buttons of his shirt, and he leans back against the bed to feel the pleasant weight of her above him. They take their time in mapping out the expanse of bare skin, kissing nearly every scar and birthmark, and though their touches and movements are clumsy, it is nothing less than perfect because it’s with her. 

In the morning, he finds her neck and chest dotted with light purple marks. It’s the ticklish sensation of his fingers smoothing over the marks that wake her up, and he feels relief when she says that they don’t hurt. He apologizes anyway and she shakes her head, moving her body to fill the space between them before falling back asleep. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt more content.

---- 

He tries so very hard to mask the effects this curse has on him, carrying an extra handkerchief in his pocket to quickly wipe away his nosebleeds, or alter his breathing to stifle his harsh breath after carrying something. But he should’ve known that not even this could slip past her. His days are dwindling, and she watches over him intently and holds him even tighter. If they had been younger, he probably would’ve snapped at her for it, assuming she thought him to be weak. But that was never the case. He knows she’s scared of what’s coming, and it devastates him. The last thing he wants is for this, for them to come to an end. He became so angry and frustrated because the closer he was to dying, the more he wanted to live. He carried guilt for having ended up this way, but it was her who told him that none of it was his fault, that life had dealt them a tragic and unfair hand. 

“Hey…” she murmurs one night as they sit in front of a fire, looking up at the glittered expanse of sky. He moves a bit in her arms, letting her know that he was listening. 

“Do you think we’ll get to meet again? In heaven? Or maybe in another life?” 

The question stings. She sounds so tired but hopeful, and he does not want to lie and say yes when in reality, he had no clue. He tells her exactly that, and she only hums in response. 

“Well… if there is… I’ll find you. And maybe we’ll have better luck then.” 

The fire crackles, sending a cloud of embers into the sky. 

“Not if I don’t find you first,” he answers after a few moments, his attempt at lightening the mood successful when she huffs in amusement. He pulls away from her, prompting her to meet his eyes. 

“Mikasa… no matter what happens, we will always be together. Afterlife or not, I’ll be with you, and you’ll be with me.” 

Tears pool in her eyes and cascade down her face, her voice choked as she says, “promise?” 

He wipes away her tears, and though his own throat tightens, he smiles. 

“Promise.” 

[rockthingsbymeg]

Treasure

Pairing: Izzy Stradlin x reader

Info: Pure fluff; 909 words;

A/N: Not as big as most of my fics, but I hope you guys enjoy it

Izzy flopped down tiredly on his new couch after throwing away the last box with his and Y/N’s belongings. It had taken them a whole month to unpack everything, despite barely having anything in their previous house.

He looked around the room, slowly eyeing all the furniture. He had forgotten what it felt like to have furniture that wasn’t broken or completely falling apart. He had never truly cared about it, but he had to admit that now that he had it, it did feel nice.

What felt even better was to see his girlfriend of three years, Y/N, come into the room looking tired but happy, and stand between his legs, smiling down at him.

“We’re finally down.” She said, looking around the room and then back at him. “Can you believe it? We did it…”

Izzy smiled up at her, taking in all the details of her face. She was the most beautiful and amazing woman he had ever met. To this day, he didn’t know how or why she fell in love with him.

When Izzy didn’t answer and remained looking up at her, she ran the back of her fingers across his cheek and chuckled softly. “Baby? You okay?”

Izzy chuckled as well and nodded. “Yeah, I am…” He answered and gently pulled her on his lap. “I’m more than okay.” He said, pulling her for a gentle kiss.

Y/N let her body melt on top of him, losing herself in the kiss and simply enjoying the happiness and tranquility of the moment.

Izzy pulled back after a bit and kept holding her with his lips pressed against her neck. Y/N ended up being the one to move and break the silence that settled.

“Why don’t you join me in a quick shower, and then I make us some dinner?” She asked, gently brushing his long hair out of his face.

Izzy nodded and let Y/N climb off his lap before getting up himself and following her to the bathroom. Y/N put the water to warm up and began to undress. Izzy followed, but his eyes remained on Y/N’s body, observing every detail.

Izzy knew that most of the time he acted cold and distant as if he didn’t care, as if she meant nothing to him. But he also knew that Y/N understood him.

She had always been able to see right through him, to know how he actually felt and understand why he acted the way he did.

And most importantly, she had never judged him for it.

When he first realized she saw past the unfazed, cool façade, he was scared, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. Axl saw right through him too, but he had been Izzy’s friend for years, and he trusted him. Y/N had come into his life, in a rush, pretty much like everything else since he had moved to L.A., and knocked him off his feet, leaving him to figure out how she had begun to mean so much to him in such a short period of time.

He was deep in his thoughts like he would be every so often, when Y/N gently touched his arm, bringing him back to earth.

“Baby, you’re staring,” She said in a soft voice. “Is everything okay?”

Izzy just gave her a small smile, one that always let her know he was being sincere. “Yeah, I was just thinking.”

Y/N nodded and held his hand, leading him under the hot water of the shower.

Izzy took the soap while Y/N took the shampoo and, rather than washing their own bodies, they began to wash each other, Izzy’s soft yet calloused hands moving slowly across her body, while hers began to massage the soap into his hair. Y/N had a blinding smile on her face, one that always made Izzy smile no matter what.

While they showered, they were constantly leaning towards each other and sharing tender kisses. It was a soft moment, something quite rare between them, and each time it happened it made Y/N’s heart almost leap out of her chest. Izzy was not the type of person who enjoyed being cuddly and intimate often, and that made these small gestures even more meaningful.

They left the shower half an hour later, bodies finally rid of all the sweat and relaxed after spending so long moving stuff around and tidying.

They changed into some fresh, comfortable clothes and made their way into the kitchen. Y/N moved to the counter while Izzy made a quick stop in their room and then sat down at the table with his acoustic guitar on his lap. He began strumming away soft melodies, humming as incomprehensible lyrics as he did so.

“New material?” Y/N asked curiously, not taking her eyes off the vegetables she was chopping.

Izzy shook his head, despite knowing Y/N was not looking. “Not really.” He shrugged and continued playing. “It’s not the sounds we want for Guns.”

Y/N nodded understandingly and let him focus again on playing. What she didn’t know about the song was that it was dedicated to her, and it was Izzy’s way of getting out his deepest feelings towards her.

He was not sure he would ever finish the song or even admit to Y/N that it was about her, but it was still his favorite song he had ever written. It was sincere, heartfelt. It was his treasure, much like Y/N was.

——

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, reblogs, comments and any kind of way you show me you liked this are endlessly appreciated💛

Requests are closed.

Full masterlist, Guns N’ Roses masterlist and works in progress.

Taglist: @curly-hudson; @agroupiewhore; @littlemisscare-all; @metalheartofgold​

[marshmallowprotection]

Serendipity

Pairing: Kang Jaehee/Main Character 

Bio: It's been nice to get into the groove of working in the café with Jaehee, but the two of you keep butting heads over the little things. How will you settle it?

For the Mystic Messenger Reverse Big Bang Project. @mysme-rbb

[Read on AO3]

[Check out my Partner here.]

It wasn’t as easy as you thought to get a business up and running. Well, you certainly didn’t think it was a cakewalk, but it was a lot more involved than you assumed.

But, you supposed that was how anyone felt about their business. Jaehee knew the in’s and out’s well after spending so much time working with Jumin, however, there were still so many factors to consider that she had to take note of as you two were working hard on the business model for the café.

She had taken care of so much without even batting an eyelash. From making sure that things with the renovation were going properly, to ensuring that all the little touchings for the interior were to your liking as you had decided upon after making countless sketches, and that wasn’t at all to disregard how she’d been working on brewing the menu of drinks.

Jaehee was astounding, frankly.

Every single day you were able to learn something that you hadn’t known about her and it just drew you to want to be closer to Jaehee. She was passionate and it showed in how much thought she put into the smallest things. It could be as simple as trying to make sure that the napkins had the right color and energy.

Or, it could be as big as picking which tables and machinery to use. As long as she was there, you knew that you had nothing to worry about in terms of getting things to stay on track. You had a bit harder time trying to schedule things and make sure that they were following the path that they needed, so having Jaehee there made things possible without any messes!

To clarify, you thought, messes that involved construction and order were things you didn’t have to concern yourself with.

If it was in regards to a teeny mess in the kitchen?

That was kind of another thing entirely to talk about with your partner. There was plenty of work to be done and you were busy most of the time working to make sure that you had everything you needed for the day to clean up right as you worked.

Which, often led to Jaehee clicking her tongue and sighing at your work ethic. You just beamed whenever she came around and found just a bit of flour or other ingredients resting against the chopping block or the sink. You would get to things just as soon as you rotated through your fast cycle. It was how you functioned and how your brain layered your tasks.

While she thrived on order and structure to get things done, you had moments of relishing the freedom of the moment and letting your creativity wander. Some people would say that it was a partnership that had stormy seas ahead; but, honestly? Having someone willing to work outside of the box with someone who danced closer to the lines meant you had perfect harmony.

You didn’t have to always see eye to eye to be close to someone, nor did you have to agree to get things done.

Opposing views, as you had experienced, had allowed you and Jaehee to be able to find a lot of middle ground that would benefit more people than just yourselves. It opened the shop to more than just one crowd of people that wanted to drop by.

You both wanted this café to flourish with which meant putting your heads together to make progress!

Though, while your differing views had blended just fine thus far, the one thing that the two of you were having trouble with had to do with the menu of the café. She had carefully crafted the brews from the roast to the cup. However, where you two had a problem was trying to find that staple item on the menu.

It was that one thing that people would always drop by to try or were buzzing about when they talked about the place. After all, just focusing on drinks wouldn’t quite attract just anyone to see the place for themselves. You had a few ideas yourself and so did Jaehee, but you just couldn’t agree at all on what you should go with.

Your mind told you to go for gold by something big and flashy and Jaehee was focused on something simple, but not too plain.

It was seemingly the only thing that you couldn’t agree on. There were far too many pastries and cakes to pick from to settle on just one thing to be the centerpiece. Which, is what led the two of you to come to the conclusion that you had reached today.

In the kitchen of the café with loads of sweets on the counter for no reason other than the fact that:

“Well, if we simply cannot settle this by looking at our notes, then we should make everything that we believe to be a strong contender, [Y/N].”

“A good ol’ fashioned bake-off, then, huh?”

“I think those terms are agreeable.”

“Bring it on.”

Of course, neither you nor Jaehee set a limit on how many things you had in mind, which meant that the kitchen had way more snacks than you could eat by yourselves in just a day or two. That would certainly wind up going to the rest of the RFA when you were done if they were fool-hardy enough to walk into the café today.

You wouldn’t deny that it was fun, though.

To be in the kitchen together while the low hum of the radio echoed throughout the room, your eyes lingering on Jaehee when she thought that you were caught up in reading your notes and pausing to stir something with careful ease. These were the moments when you got to see a side of Jaehee that nobody else ever got the chance to view.

That side of Jaehee warmed your heart and brought warmth to your face. She was always so cute when she worked like this. She pursed her lips just so and would tap the tip of the pen against her lips whenever she made notes and correlations to her plans as she sampled and changed her final goal.

She didn’t know how adorable it was.

Not that you let a day go by without reminding her how much you appreciated having her in your personal space. She would always blush and cough to compose herself, looking away before she slid her hand into your own before you headed home for the evening after closing up the shop for the day.

One of these days she would be able to face you and tease you back without hesitation, but you were okay waiting for that day. These moments where she challenged you and kept you on your toes were just as fun and interesting to you to have and to hold. Though, this time, you wanted to be able to show her that you were capable of being able to prove that your choice was right.

“How’s it going over here?” you asked, continuing to stir the bowl in your hands as you made eye contact with Jaehee. “Ready to admit defeat, Jaehee?”

She chuckled. You knew that sound. She was always ready to stand her ground. You knew that whatever she had planned might’ve upstaged whatever you were thinking. So, you knew when she smiled, it was time to test the waters to see, “I assure you that I won’t be giving up so easily.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be a battle if you didn’t give it your all,” you countered. You took a few steps into her side of the kitchen just to get a little glimpse at her plans. You just needed to give her a little push to get on her good side. Setting down your work next to hers, you caught her hand in your own with a wink.

“And what do you think you’re doing?”

You brought her hand to your lips and brushed them against the palm of her palm. “Oh, nothing, I just wanted to make sure that these things were in working order,” you said and watched as the heat rose from her neck to her cheeks in a matter of seconds. “Don’t you think you should take a little break?”

“And let you get ahead of me?” her narrowed brow told you that she knew what you were trying to do but she wasn’t going to stop you. “We both know where that game goes at the end of the day, [Y/N.] So, what are you playing at?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to get you to take a break. I love this song, I thought you earned a dance for your hard work. We can’t take things so seriously that we forget to have a little downtime in the meantime, you know?”

“...No funny business, got it?”

“No promises.”

Jaehee allowed you to pull her close into a slow and swaying dance. She was light on her feet and kept her eyes on you the entire time. You knew that you could count on her to be watching your every move. She was always acutely aware of every detail.

So, you were more than happy to twist and turn around that kitchen without a second thought.

The heart-strung melody of a familiar song was the only thing that you needed. That, and having Jaehee close to you. She made you feel at home and alive. You hoped that she felt the same way as it was often difficult for her to express those thoughts aloud. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel like you did, she was just…

Still getting used to sharing her emotions with others without feeling like she needed to ball them up and away. Her home life had taught her to keep herself withdrawn and learning how to let go of that was like learning how to ride a bike. It wasn’t impossible but it was tedious and one of those things that took time and patience to work out.

You dipped her back and she sputtered but trusted you not to drop her on her butt. You never would… unless there was a cushion there to brace her fall from grace, anyway. The look in her brown eyes never got old and you craved to see it every time that she shared it with you so tenderly.

As you helped Jaehee back onto two legs, she could feel you moving her back and back until her hip bumped against the counter. She glanced between you and the ground before you caught her face in your open palm, leaning over to brush your lips against her cheek.

She instantly reacted to your affection by moving back a smidge, her hand knocking into both of your bowls, mixing the two.

“Oh, no!”

“[Y/N], you got carried away again!”

“I didn’t mean to!” You laughed it off as best you could. Though, you couldn’t help but think the pink shade of the batter you had created was turning a deep blush thanks to Jaehee’s handiwork of her own creation. She huffed and puffed as you tried to make sense of the mess and see if it could be mended.  

Curious, you dipped a hand into the batter to give it a taste. It reminded you of something sweet and fruity, but you couldn’t quite discern what was in it.

It tasted really good, though.

“Jaehee, wait, come and try this,” you nudged her to come back to your side, bumping a spoon next to her lips to let her try. She tried only due to your insistence on the matter, pausing as she took in the flavor and nodded. “I think we’ve figured out what we’re going to have. Instead of red velvet, we can have a pink velvet!”

“We should’ve done this to start with,” she said, with a little laugh. Her warm cheeks were still reddened with embarrassment. “I guess it’s not always wrong to put things together to see if they work out.”

“Of course not, that’s why we work so well together.”

“Pffft, hahaha. I think this is going to turn out great.”

“Us, or the cakes?”

“Both.”

[katsukisbeatingheart]

sing to me

soulmate au where you can hear the songs stuck in your soulmate’s head. the closer you are to them the quieter the music becomes, before the voice changes altogether.

word count: 2,440

a.n.: helo i have a few of these typed up and a few others in progress explicitly for soulmate aus. it’s the least angsty one so far so here you go friends.

(psst here’s dabi’s)

(psst here’s sero’s)

(psst here’s bakugou’s)

listen while you read 👉👈

ao3

Shinso Hitoshi did not sing, and isn’t the type to give even so much as a hum. But when he did—of his own volition, mind you—he never did so in front of people.

Which is how he knew this soulmate bullshit might not actually be all that contrived.

Sometimes he’d catch himself embarrassingly humming or whistling in public—usually to the absolute amusement of his friends and family—stuck with songs in his head he hadn’t even ever heard of. And it was in times like that he’d begin singing something ridiculous back, as his own petty way to clearly say ’stop’.

When the music would disappear, he’d chuckle lightly to himself and continue about his day.

Only to fall asleep that night to you whispering sweet, sweet literal nothings from the far side of his mind. Barbie Girl was a slap and a half, but if he had to check out with it rolling around in his head at two a.m. for the third night in a row, he’d dedicate his waking hours to annoying the hell out of you.

See how you liked it being startled awake—hopefully, he wasn’t 100% on the time difference—by Caramelldansen.

There were even a few times where you’d try to push music into each other at the same time. Like hijacking a radio frequency, you’d change channels on each other all day and all night until it was a warbled cacophony of noise, bordering on a headache big enough for a small city. Rarely would either of you concede, but if and/or when you did, you’d make sure the song was something you both liked.

At any other rate, Shinso had to give you credit for your taste in music; even if he didn’t recognize a fair few, he’d remember the lyrics and scour the internet later looking for them like his life depended on it. He already had a building playlist of the songs you’d sing to him—separate ones for the songs he knew, the songs he didn’t know, and his personal favorites. He kept those to himself like trade secrets, deflecting questions about what he was listening to or what kind of music he had on his phone.

Oftentimes, it was easy to guess how you were probably feeling if he just listened. There were queues of songs that made him feel relaxed and incredibly focused—which he assumed did the same for you—and others that just set him on fire.

Then there were days he felt like he was walking around with water in his shoes and a storm cloud lamenting with taut strings and frail keys. It was days like those that he liked to physically, consciously hum meme audios—or if the sadness was particularly dour, he’d find a quiet place, and sing songs that meant the world to him. Shinso wouldn’t hear anything back, and assume you were singing too.

The music said a lot about you, which was a considerable feat as he had never met you before, and he wanted to be selfish. He didn’t want to spoil what was special to you and him before he even got to see you.

You definitely worked your way around that, the maddening anonymity—using song titles to give away bits of information about one another as generously as you could. Favorite colors, films, seasons; all objective small talk suddenly turned scripture. He amassed everything in a small journal like priceless treasures—carrying around the value of another life in his pocket as casually as a to-do list. He had the music, but something tangible like this put his mind and heart at ease. You were really out there, and Shinso could meet you someday.

It wasn’t a known secret to anyone that subject posed one of his greatest fears. One day finding someone to spend the rest of ever with, with someone else’s song playing in his head.

In more than a few ways, you helped him remain largely optimistic. As long as he could hear you, he could find you, and as he got older and he acquired more freedoms and was just a little surer of himself, there was a chance.

That hope suddenly burned like ice on one derisively beautiful day.

Shinso dragged himself up the flights of stairs leading to his apartment, sliding around the stacks of moving boxes cluttering up the only way home. He tottered down the hall, and stepped through the threshold inattentively humming a new tune he’d heard that day that he thought you might like.

If there was one thing he could ever count on, it was your consistency.

Ever since you were kids, he grew up with annoying, made up nursery rhymes he still had memorized, as though he’d written them himself. They quickly turned into fun jingles, which then morphed into some of the most beautiful melodies he’d ever heard. Those didn’t usually have lyrics though, so it wasn’t like he could look them up to be sure—and yet he somehow knew they were original to you.

It was then that he realized, he had never gone a single day of his life without music.

So, when he sat back after a long night of work and readied himself for at least a few hours’ sleep, he froze. Shinso hadn’t heard a beat of song all day. Not anything besides what might have been jumping around him as he went out for errands or to the agency. 

With a harsh shake of his damp hair, he swiped a towel over his stony expression. His clenched jaw was starting to drive an ache into his skull.

You probably slept all day, he reasoned.

Even though he was sure you’d sent songs to him in sleep more than a few times in your life…

No. Absolutely not.

He shook himself free of worries, refusing to end the day with fear in his heart where the music should be.

Instead, he closed his eyes and slipped into a tune he’d fallen asleep to before—one that he was sure you created. It rained over his restless consciousness like sun-drops and star-dew, pulling steady, even breaths out of him and pushing a gentle weightlessness in.

The next morning, however, brought even more questions Shinso was just slightly afraid to have answered. Still no sign of the little voice that sounded like him, but was not his own. He absently picked up on a lilting murmur somewhere from upstairs, and anchored to it the more the weightlessness slowly began disappearing.

Shinso shrugged off his nerves, whistling light and roses into the bathroom mirror through his teeth. He splashed cold water into his face and closed off the tap with a huff, sending a final apprehensive glance to his reflection before heading out the door.

He doesn’t know why he’s suddenly ineffably compelled to turn into the shop on the corner after a quick run to the market—but he is. Maybe it’s the incoherent and yet still familiar ringing in his ears, clear as a bell ushering him along his spontaneity.

Shinso’s morning started jittery and threatened to boil over in anarchical agitation. Strolling down the street with the absence of his wonted metronome, hands in his pockets tapping to the beat of an abandoned drum, he felt he stuck out like a loose screw. He was mindless in his trips to each store as he blindly reached for things he was vaguely sure he needed.

It was when he had stepped out onto the corner that something inexplicable snapped into place.

Shinso jogged across the street and through the inviting doors of a building whose name he hadn’t even bothered to read. He found himself surrounded by chrysanthemums and dahlias before he realized he’s in a floral parlor.

The redolence of fresh soil and ingratiatory verdure engulfed his wearied demeanour; the petals brushed his cheeks, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d suggest that the bouquets were reaching for him. The salvia and larkspur waved from the other end of the aisle, and he followed their purple buds to the other side of the shop.

He stopped to admire the camellias and daffodils, lightly taking them between the pads of his thumb and forefinger.

Butterflies.

Hitoshi’s eyes widened with a start, his posture straightening like he’d been struck with lightning.

They fill my guts when I look in your eyes.

He pivoted back and forth on his heels, desperately looking to the flowers for an explanation. A voice filled his head for the first time in nearly two days.

A heart that’s young is filled with sweet surprise.

This time though, the voice isn’t his. It’s clear and ringing and it doesn’t belong to him. The usual warmth he felt basking in the sound of music you whisper in his voice does nothing to compare with the exhilaration frothing in his chest now. Shinso ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, sliding it down his neck and over his shoulder.

It’s really not his, he inwardly surmised. It’s like listening to someone from inside a bubble, though; it’s a round and full sound, but he just knew if it were only slightly louder, the barrier would pop and he’d be free.

Only the innocent can sympathize.

It’s yours.

He brushed past the water lilies, clearing row after row as casually as he could in a futile attempt so as to not appear deranged.

I don’t care

The voice bled into his mind clearer, like watching the gentle shift of river to ocean water through facile currents. He turned the last corner with a breath of anticipation. In a final bit of direction, the lilac, heather, and baby’s breath spilled out of an ornate frame, unquestionably pointing to a figure facing away from him.

“About the funny way you wear your hair,” you crooned. You turned to tenderly repot the rosy begonia cupped in your palms, tucking it in place with the most serene gleam Shinso Hitoshi had ever seen. He sighed, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding for years.

“Someday you’ll let me put my comb up there.”

“’Till then you’re beautiful and I just stare,” Hitoshi finished softly.

You almost dropped your armful of forget-me-nots. Your strangled breath caught in your throat, hooked solely on the man standing there waiting. He gazed at you with an amused smile and crinkled, bruised eyes. It’s reminiscent of a sleepy kitten and if you hadn’t been so shocked, you’d have melted in your shoes.

“I missed your voice yesterday,” he drawled almost lazily, crossing his arms over his chest. You cleared your throat, rolling upright with a swing of your hands as they lock together at your back.

“I was going to say the exact same thing.”

His movements reminded you of a large jungle cat, stalking forward with a controlled lethargy tensed in anything but. As eager as you were, you matched him beat for beat, dragging your quivering legs in delicate strides down the aisle.

“So, is this supposed to mean we met sometime yesterday then?”

He stood right in front of you, finally close enough to recognize as the nameless and faceless childhood friend you’d been listening to since you could think on your own. You stepped into him, coming to a stop just before the tips of your shoes met his.

“It’s likely.”

“No way,” he said with a resolute shake of his head. “I’d remember you if that were the case.”

“You sound so sure of yourself.”

He stared you down with a focus you wouldn’t expect from eyes as exhausted looking as his.

“I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life.” You bashfully tugged at the fabric of your clothes, the warmth in your chest spreading upwards to beam across your face. Flattening your palm against the expanse of his collar bone, you idly swung your hands over the surface like a pendulum.

“Maybe we just missed each other then—crossed paths without finishing them,” you suggested, twirling a lock of purple around your finger.

“You wouldn’t happen to be moving in somewhere, would you?”

Your head jerked with a small start to twist at him quizzically. How could he possibly know that?

“In a complex a few blocks away from here, yes. Why?”

Shinso’s smile broke into parts amusement and incredulity.

“Looks like I’m your new neighbor,” he grinned. My neighbor? You lit up, eyes twinkling with excitement.

“That means—!”

“You’re stuck with me, yeah.”

“That can’t be such a bad thing,” you started, dropping your voice to push into him more, “—after all, I’m a little new to the area.” You blinked, letting a coquettish simper slide across your features.

“I could do with some sort of guide if I’m going to survive out here, you know.”

“I think I know a guy,” he murmured, a strained husk in his volume.

“Oh, you do, do you?” you whispered under fragile breaths.

“Yeah,” he said, leaning down to angle his face with yours. Just as you reached in to touch his lips, he pulled back suddenly, tapping his finger to his chin in thought. “Tall, blond, black streak of lightning across his bangs—hard to miss. I’ll introduce you; probably just your type.”

You rolled your eyes and punched his shoulder, gripping the fabric of his shirt in an iron fist.

“How could you possibly know my type?”

You pulled his stupid happy face to yours and kissed the mischief out of him, and he dissolved into a tender mess under your fingertips. All of this was new and unexpected, but he imagined seeing, meeting, and eventually kissing you going much different. Shinso hadn’t expected colliding like old, familiar friends; Shinso hadn’t expected missing the way you pressed into him, as though you’d done it a thousand times before. This was a first kiss between two people, but not the first time you’d ever touched.

“Be careful,” he sighed, voice richly warm, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with me.”

You languidly pressed your lips to the corner of his mouth, tracing time signatures into his jawline.

“Have been since we were kids, thanks for noticing.”

“You mean to tell me Mr. Snuffles Is My Best Friend was actually for me? I’m flattered.”

“Oh yeah, definitely. Absolutely not about one of my favorite stuffed animals.”

“That’s good to know. And here I was thinking I would have to challenge a teddy bear for your hand.” You laughed heartily, pressing your forehead into his chest.

“Can I walk you home?”

You fingered the fabric of his shirt, leaning in to feel the rhythm of his heart. It was the prettiest song you had ever heard.

“I’m already there.”

[finalheaven]

Hi guys here’s Sakurai’s interview from the Ultimania Material. It took a while to edit the translations and post because of Cloti Fall Festival, but here it is! 😊

Sakurai continues to be king. You can really tell how big of a fan he is not only of Cloud, but of FF7 in general. Oh and his favorite lines including conversations with Tifa? You love to see it!

More behind the cut~

Q: Please share your reaction when you first heard that FFVII Remake would be made.

A: In 2005, I went to Venice for the international film festival for FFVII Advent Children, and the topic of doing a FF7 remake came up during a break when I had a meal with Nomura and others. I remember at the time how they’d “like to make it a reality someday,” and I was unseemingly thrilled when they said “finally the time has come.”

Q: How did you feel when you knew that the development of Remake’s story would be a little different from the original FF7 and FF7: Crisis Core?

A: Honestly, I was surprised. I got input on what changes they were making little by little as I recorded, but they were not just making the game beautiful with current technology, but reworking the game’s world to be reborn… I remember getting chills when I understood the meaning of “REMAKE.”

Q: What kind of performance plan did you have in mind for playing Cloud in this FFVII?

A: Just about all FF related titles were made with the instruction and direction by director Nomura and sound producer Shimizu. This time I also had the stance of “understand the general story and the rest will be at recording”. Cloud was made by many people and I devoted myself in expressing that.

Q: The development staff had the intention of “wanting to show an uncool Cloud in Remake”, so what did you keep in mind for that?

A: FFVII released in 1997 was text based, but I had the impression that Cloud acted cocky and young in the opening (laughs). Even in the Remake, I believe that his unstableness was thoroughly expressed. Him feeling “uncool” is up to the discretion of the player, so I’d be happy if they could see that as a human touch... Even uncool Cloud is meaningful, and quite nice.

Q: What kind of impression did you get from Biggs, Wedge, and Jessie, who are more realistic than in the original and voiced for the first time?

A: Sure enough, the presence of these three was big. They’re a part that I, who experienced the original FFVII in real time, strongly felt once again in the Remake. The characters stood out visually and were very appealing. When looking at them from Cloud’s perspective, his attachment to them is extraordinary.

Q: Among all the repeated “Cloud is frightened by Sephiroth scenes” in the Remake, which one was the most impressionable?

A: All the scenes with Sephiroth were terrifying, but the most impressionable was the Lifestream. I was surprised he showed up there. Players that know the progression of the original FFVII were no doubt taken aback. Suddenly an unknown FFVII is shown on the screen and leaves my eyes wide open. Is it a new future, or…

Q: Please share what kind of things you kept in mind during the scenes in the flower field where Cloud could talk with Aerith, Tifa, or Barret on the night before rescuing Aerith from Shinra.

A: This “variables that change who he talks to [that night]” aspect is one of the real charms of the Remake. I don’t remember the details when recording, but I was vigilant for Barret’s scene. Kobayashi’s Barret flies far beyond my imagination in a different direction than I expected, so there were many times when I would get caught up with that enjoyment and end up having Cloud’s character be off… I believe that this destructive force came out from Kobayashi’s unique potential. It’s not fair that he hums the victory fanfare melody (laughs).

Q: What kind of performance instruction was there for your rapid line of, “I don’t need your feedback, there was no other way,” when Tifa notices crossdressed Cloud? 

A: I was ready for it (laughs). Those are words prepared when assuming a situation he couldn’t avoid. He's frustrated and resentful, embarrassed, and he’s talking to Tifa; that line is a result of mixing various emotions.

Q: When Cloud got a hand massage, that was an unimaginable reaction from his usual self, but what were you careful of when recording that scene?

A: For that scene at the massage parlor, I tried to see how far they would permit an aggressive performance. I recorded around 3 different recordings and did not know which one they would use. That’s how amazing Madam M’s technique was… how about it (laughs).

Q: What is your most memorable Cloud line in the Remake?

A: That’d be “not interested”. That’s all.

Q: Were there any lines and scenes from the original game that you especially wanted to act out?

A: This would also be “not interested”. Other than that, there were many conversations with Tifa, but it was fun to have Cloud make slightly out of place comments. Scenes where he’s messed with by Avalanche were also enjoyable.

Q: Please share if you have any unforgettable memories while recording.

A: I was very excited to see the game footage while recording, even if it wasn’t finished yet. I was like, “Awesome!!” But I’d be embarrassed to expose that to the staff, so I played it cool.

Q: After the Remake, has your impression regarding Cloud changed?

A: It hasn’t. Experiencing a massive scenario has actually deepened my understanding better. I was able to update myself a little bit with Cloud’s input.

Q: What do you think makes Cloud so appealing?

A: Sure enough, Cloud’s cool! His appeal has increased in the Remake. I believe that being able to see his slightly off, quite human side from his existing image is a plus for him.

Q: Please share your expectations and enthusiasm for upcoming Remake projects.

A: I’m always ready to go! I could go right now! I can’t imagine what happens next so I’m a little scared, but even so I want to know what happens! And I want to play it as soon as possible! I’m really looking forward to the Gold Saucer. I’m eagerly waiting for it!!

Q: Please give a message to fans of the FFVII series.

A: I’m happy to be able to participate in a historical work as an actor, but my happiness as a fan wins over. I have also been waiting for this time like all of you. We just have to wait for the next one. Let’s share the joyful moments that will eventually come!

Notes:

Translated by tsubomi from FH

Edited by lockharts from FH

HQ scans provided by mayaaris from FH

Follow @finalheaven​ and @bestofcloti on Twitter for more content.

[intothemaddyverse]

A Fallen Angel

Chapter 1 of Reunited Series 

Word Count: 1,750

Rating: Mature (slightly suggestive material but not explicit)

I hope you enjoy it! 

Preface: 

After meeting as children and falling in love as young adults, Din sees his soulmate again following years of separation. Their story begins the moment Din hears a melody in the distance that brings back the fondest memories of his past. He's reserved as all can be, but falls weak at the knees when he holds his angel in a tight embrace, swaying to their favorite song. He follows the sound to find her sitting in an empty cantina, where she waits hoping that his feelings for her have not faded. Din had been waiting for this moment, every day longing for his other half to return. Reunited, they decide to take a weekend for themselves, away from the noise of a war torn galaxy. With his family now complete, he is finally able to propose with a ring he’d kept safe since the day he lost her. Things take a dramatic turn as the Empire, or what’s left of it that is, finds Din’s beloved and attempts to kidnap her. The Razor Crest is blown to pieces but the kidnap was unsuccessful, therefore leaving Din’s love shaken but alive. We now pick up with Din, his lover, and Grogu traveling across a harsh desert landscape in search of a new beginning.

It’s cold. Really cold. You find it hard to believe that a landscape with such scorching intensity can also be as unforgiving as Hoth. Stars, what time is it? You’re woken up from a deep slumber by a small glimmer of light. You squint as a subtle change in position on Din’s part shines the light directly in your face.

“DIN!” You exclaim as a small shimmy of his shoulders intensifies the brightness. “If you’re going to be a living disco ball at least shine the light away from me.” Din lets out a muffled laugh as you move to nudge yourself into a more comfortable position. He wiggles himself out of your grasp, but before you can object he quickly adjusts himself to hold you the way he wants to. One hand brushes up against your thigh, to your hip and then slithers around to the back of your waist. The other tenderly brushes your hair behind your ear, giving you the kind of goosebumps only he can cause. You allow your eyes to flutter shut and think, “yeah…he was right. This positioning is much better.” 

As Din’s right hand begins a slow ascent up the contours of your back underneath your shirt, you quickly grab his arm to stop him. He lets out a small sigh in disappointment but then realizes why, turning to see Grogu standing directly behind him. “Hey kid, you sleep alright?” Din asks, grunting while lifting himself up off of you slowly. Once he leans back against the speeder bike, Grogu climbs up onto Din’s lap and stumbles down his legs, landing abruptly on your stomach. “MAKER” you yelp, letting out a breathless exhale while catching him before he lands on your face. “Your dad is rubbing off on you Grogu, you need to-”  

…“Daddy” Din interjects, pausing for a moment to let his interruption send a shiver down your spine. You know exactly what he’s doing, and so does he. Why does he do this?? Sometimes you’re convinced that torturing you in front of the child is his favorite past time. Your face turns beet red. You swallow and say with a shaky voice, “sorry Grogu, your Daddy is rubbing off on you.” You stand up to place Grogu in his pod, and then feel Din grabbing your arm to pull you towards him. 

“I think it’s finally time for our dance” he whispers in your ear. Ugh, he makes you swoon. He lifts up his helmet slightly to kiss you on the forehead. You lay your head on his chest while he places one hand around your waist, the other intertwining his fingers with yours. You’d think that beskar would be the last thing you want pressed against your face, but stars is it comfortable. Maybe because it’s him. Okay, most definitely because it’s him. You’ve been without armor to rest on for far too long. “How did that song go again?” Din asks as he rubs your back. You slowly begin to lift your head, perplexed as you look beyond Din at the rising sun and pastel sky. “You don’t remember?? You were the one who first asked me to dance with you to that song! How could you not…” Before you can take another breath, Din grabs your chin and places his lips on yours. You were so enveloped in his embrace that you didn’t notice he took his helmet off. “Din! Someone could see you!” Shit, that was loud. Much louder than you should have said that but there’s no turning back now. “Don’t worry angel, it’s far too early. There’s no one here.”

Something about his voice is so comforting, even through the modulator. You and Din continue to sway, the sun beginning to warm your face as it continues to rise. He holds you just a tiny bit closer…a little bit tighter too. If only we could stay in this exact spot, in this moment forever. You start to hum the melody without realizing his question was a set up. “Hm hm hmmm…” Din turns his face away from you, trying to hide his smile. “Of course I know how it went, I just wanted to hear you sing.”

You can tell that Grogu is getting antsy when he starts crying out from his pod. Din lifts him out and places him on the ground. As soon as his tiny feet reach the sand he races off at a speed that seems insanely abnormal for a baby. What has he been feeding this kid? Din lets out a frustrated sigh, prompting you to wrap your arms around his waist in an attempt to relax him. “I’ll go grab him, go ahead and clean your weapons.”

The more you spend time in this vast wasteland, the more you feel disoriented trying to remind yourself of which direction you’re heading. You swore you saw Grogu veer off to the left and scurry down one of the sand dunes, but seconds later you convince yourself you saw a small green alien shuffle past you to the right. Stars, when was the last time you had a sip of water? Your movements become slower, dragging your feet through the sand while struggling to keep your legs from buckling underneath you. Suddenly, Grogu appears behind you, latching on to one of your legs before you collapse.

***

It’s been an hour since you left to retrieve Grogu, there are no more weapons to clean and Din is becoming progressively more worried. “She should be back by now right? How long has it been? The kid couldn’t have wandered that far…” He continues to pace back and forth, desperately trying to ignore the anxiety taking over his body. Before he can begin another monologue of reasoning behind the length of your absence, he lifts his head up to see Grogu waddling towards him. “Ehh?” He coos, blinking at Din before gesturing to imply you are just beyond his current position. Din sprints to Grogu, scooping him up and then quickly scanning his surroundings. “SHIT!” He freezes. His heart sinks to his stomach, because there at the bottom of the hill, lying lifeless in the sand…is you.

Din stumbles down to you, dropping to his knees. “Fuck, what do I do??” He mutters to himself, blood rushing to his head as his panicked state heightens. The only thing he can think to do in that moment is pick you up and carry you over his shoulder back to the campsite. He places Grogu in his pod and closes the lid. Seeing you limp on the ground like this makes Din’s stomach churn. “Come on angel, wake up. What do you need? Shit, you can’t hear me why am I asking?!” After examining your trembling body and dry lips, Din grabs the last supply of water nearby. He gently places his hand under your head for support, lifting you up slightly to ensure he doesn’t accidentally make the situation worse. Carefully, he pours small amounts of water into your mouth. “Maybe I can use my cape to cool her face...yeah I’ve seen people do that.  I think we have enough water...” At this point, Din is struggling to breathe. He nearly spills the last of the water on your face while struggling to control his shaking hands.  “Please…pl-please…my love, wake up!” Din throws the empty canteen on the ground and cradles you, his beskar nearly digging into your upper body.

“Remove her shirt, use the armor to cool her skin,” Din hears from behind him. With only seconds to respond, panic shoots through his entire being. He scrambles to reach his blaster, rapidly turning to face whoever has the audacity to imply you should have your shirt off. “What did you just say to me?” Din asks hastily, in full protective mode. He’s now holding his blaster inches from the unknown figure standing in front of him. The man, taking a calculated step towards Din, repeats himself. “I said remove her shirt. Trust me, this isn’t the first time I’ve seen her like this.”

Din stumbles backwards, tripping over your legs as he desperately tries to comprehend the most horrid sentence he’s ever heard. Did he just say he’s seen her like this before?? Din shakes his head, desperately trying to rid the image of another man seeing you in such a fragile state from his mind. His blood is boiling. The sweltering heat simmering in the atmosphere pales in comparison to the rage burning within him. He plants himself firmly in the sand, using every bit of restraint he has to prevent any unnecessary violence. Cemented in place, he drops his blaster. Fists are clenched, heart is pounding, mind is racing wildly. Suddenly, you take a hideously deep breath, causing Din to practically melt down to the ground and grab your face, relieved that he didn’t lose you again. You slowly lift your upper body, arms shaking, and…you see it. Your head is pounding, your face dripping with sweat. There’s NO way. This is the desert right? It has to be a mirage. Just beyond Din’s helmet glistening in the sunlight, you see him.

[sunareii]

OSAMU MIYA ─ GULLIBLE

sypnosis. you know you have it bad when you let yourself hope of every possibilities, what’s equally worse is people giving you hope, either from your friends, your crush themselves or even you and that’s not the worse part ─ it’s believing them

genre. unrequited love, moving on, slice of life

wordcount. 1.2k

♫ AS I’LL EVER BE ─ CHAZ CARDIGAN

words can’t express how he felt humiliated from his own unharmful doings of believing. and since then he never gives love a chance to tempt him to love in such a ridiculous amount again. not when his heart still aches at the thought of his past with you.

it was simply your highschool puppy love — as atsumu would call it — osamu wasn’t sure when it started but he can recall how you suddenly looked ethereal in his eyes.

it was a day during a memorable spring time. osamu was generally doing his routine after school, walking home with his brother whilst smelling the great fragrance of the season of awakening. he looks down from the mount he was in. in that moment, he was witnessing the most beautiful sight that could affect his entire love-life.

you were under the cherry blossom tree with some of your friends, laughing and playfully hitting each other. baby pink petals slowly showering your head yet stills softly slides down to your hair. your appeal and kind smile made him so drawn to you and it surely didn’t help when he got to know you. he stopped moving his legs to look at you, radiating bubbliness. atsumu calls for him to hurry up in the background for osamu to completely ignore. he keeps his eyes on you, only to be surprised when you looked at him back, smiling before giving him a big wave that osamu has to look around of who were you waving at and the answer lies on him.

spring not only blooms flowers but alsohis affection for you.

it didn’t take long for the two of you to be closer in friendship, considering that you did the first action and it didn’t even matter whether the two of you had the same classes or not. osamu would come to your class and ask you to test one of his food creations which you’re always happy to try ‘cause.. well.. it’s food!

on the other hand, you would come to his practices even if you had any club activities or not. you also came to one of his games in a tournament one or two and osamu is always grateful for your prescence. it also didn’t take long for his brother to pick up on how osamu feels about you and the latter was occasionally held up to torture with atsumus teasing.

osamu really loved you, the smile you make when you see something you’re absolutely passionate about has his heart throbbing, the hum of satisfaction when you eat one of his cooking had to be one of the things that sounds like melody to him, your adorable giggles being the number one though.

he mistakenly thought he was making progress with you as months passed. he notices the small physical touches you did to him and it made him feel gooey inside.

while walking home from school, osamu thought he’d hear another relentless teasing from atsumu but instead came a statement that osamu wished he didn’t held on for so long in his heart. “you know, i think y/n likes you back”

osamu internally chuckles at the idea like he had never thought of it before, he proceeds to deny it “you’re speaking nonsense, ‘tsumu” atsumu was probably blind at the little smile his twin was attempting to resist.

“no seriously, hear me out! don’t they seem alot more er.. jolly around you?” atsumu started. osamu scoffed at him “they’ve always been like that”

“nowadays they seem to skip whatever they were doing just to come to your game? you saw what happened earlier right?” atsumu questions

it was about during one of their plays in the gym in the same day the regrettable conversation took place. you were sitting in one of the benches watching them play. osamu would catch a glimpse of you giggling at who knows what and at the time he presume you were snickering at him which always end up of him staring at you for too long only for atsumu or mostly kita to have his head back in the game.

“i’m pretty sure they thought of something funny to themselves”

atsumu continuous to blabber examples of your possible languages of your attraction to the grey haired miya. during that night, osamu nonstops toss and turning himself in his bed with a smile.

then comes, what now he calls, the dreadful day

it’s the day where he hated himself in every way possible, the embarrassment still washes over him like waves of the ocean every time he something reminded of him of this sad day.

the confession was like a sudden bolt of lightning, something that shocks him, something that made his hearing numb in which he could only his sharp impulse.

“kita and i are dating!”

osamu felt stupid, he felt his dignity and confidence plummeted. it was difficult to face you or even himself or anyone at all after that. atsumu could only symphatize at his other half, he, afterall reckons himself as one of what lead osamu on.

the weight of guilt and remorse clings into him until now, years later and now he has established his dream restaurant. osamu couldn’t see you much even if he wanted to since you’re busy helping his upperclassman with his own work. sometimes atsumus voice would chime inside his head for time to time.

“you haven’t moved on from them yet?” it spoke, no maliciousness are intended when atsumu asked him about it.

‘samu can’t blame him for asking and instead of a confident no, what comes is a broken yes

he didn’t know what could’ve happen if he wasn’t so hopeful then, if he had never expected something more to happen, or atleast if the two of you kept in touch then maybe he would still be comfortable to face you.

osamu stops walking down the street in a mediocre autumn day as he sees a familiar face at the street next to him. of course, it was you, who else could make him stop in his tracks? you were glowing with grace, the sight somehow similar to the time he first fell inlove with you ─ you haven’t noticed him yet, maybe it’s better that way — yet it only felt nostalgic, something he’d miss but can’t really come back to.

maybe he doesn’t love you anymore, ‘cause now when he looks at you, he just feels shame of how much he hoped for a connection, a result he aimed for. it isn’t the sweet yet agonizing feeling of butterflies in his stomach or the desire to have you in his arms anymore.

to answer atsumus question, yes, he has finally moved on from his feelings for you — or maybe he had moved on a long time ago? — osamu just haven’t moved on from his feelings towards himself.

it makes sense, he had only been mad and disgraced at himself for his foolishness. love and hope could either wish for you the best or just hurt you like that, unfortunetely for osamus case, there was more hope then love in what he was craving for.

osamu internally gives a soft, almost sorrowful but he doesn’t let it get through, laugh then a smile paints his lips. “heh, was i so gullible?” he thoughts to himself

he looks at you for the second time before continuing his stroll, letting the autumn leaves fall against him, he nods while holding a giggle coming from his mouth. “yeah, i was gullible” he says to hope

[sondepoch]

50 Days Before Rebellion

All Hail (Diavolo x Reader)

The current ruling class is brutal. Draconian. Tyrannical. Every demon who has sat the throne for the past ninety thousand years has brought nothing but hardship to the Devildom—something Diavolo and his father intend to remedy by seizing power as leaders of the Resistance. When Diavolo happens to come across the princess of the Devildom, he’s overjoyed. He sees you as an opportunity, a sign from a higher power that his cause is just; and he plans to use you as a pawn in his Rebellion. But life rarely goes as planned, especially in Hell. And when Diavolo realizes that he’s falling in love with you, things suddenly feel a lot more complicated than they used to be.

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | ✔

MASTERLIST

The world has finally slowed down.

The wind is calmer now. The blades of grass that tickle Diavolo's sides don't poke into his skin, merely brushing by as the tips bend back and forth with the breeze. The vines on the trees don't seem to swing so ominously anymore, instead swaying to and fro as if dancing to the lilting melody that escapes your lips as you hum an unfamiliar tune.

The animals on the cliffside seem equally entranced by the picture of peace, undead chipmunks no longer scurrying in a rush as they instead watch the two of you from a distance, all of them mesmerized. A few brave creatures draw close enough to sniff at Diavolo's feet.

Indeed, the world truly has slowed down.

Diavolo can close his eyes and feel the rhythm of the Devildom ground lurking just under the hum of your voice, pulsing silently to the beat of magic. And indeed, even that is fainter than Diavolo recalls, everything around him muted and subdued but the sensation of your touch.

He opens his eyes lazily, studying your face. Your focus remains on his hair, of course, determined to free the red locks that have been knotted for so long. It's only an issue of convenience that Diavolo is allowed to rest his head on your thighs as you work, fingers feeling blissfully sweet even when they tug sharply on the strands that are so deeply entangled.

She's a goddess, the demon thinks, eyes studying your surreal beauty as he observes you from this new angle. He can never grow used to the sight of your face, not fully. No matter how beautiful you look in his mind's eye, reality is always sweeter. It's as if his brain truly cannot process something as wondrous as you, and your brilliance is brighter than anything Diavolo will ever be able to comprehend.

A goddess I must slay, the demon adds in shame, extending a hand up to cup your face as you work, caressing your jaw from this new angle.

"What is it, darling?" You murmur, never taking your eyes off Diavolo's hair as you address him. "Am I hurting you?"

You pause your work, withdrawing the shark tooth comb to massage his scalp a bit.

"No, not at all." Diavolo smiles. "Just thinking about how much I'd like to kiss you."

And how, one day, I will be unable to.

You laugh at that, a rich melody spilling from your lips that Diavolo wishes he could bottle in a jar, but it builds in your throat and bursts like a firework, gracing the air with its presence as every animal pauses to bask in the sound.

"You're so silly, do you know that?" You don't wait to lean forward, kissing Diavolo upside down on the lips before another giggle escapes you.

You're about to pull away, then. About to withdraw, about to return to toying with the demon's hair until it finally takes the shape you're envisioning. But before you can so much as lift your upper body, Diavolo's arms have shot up to grip your waist, making use of the full scope of his strength to lift you off the ground and flip you atop him, ignoring your undignified screech upon being thrust into the air.

"Rule four," Diavolo mumbles into your ear, snaking an arm around your waist as he traps you in the same inescapable grip you've held him in so many times before. "Never let your opponent catch you off-guard."

The demon smirks.

"That's in combat, you absolute buffoon," You mumble, swatting Diavolo's hands in an attempt to get him to let go. Of course, the demon ignores you entirely, rolling you onto your side to nuzzle your neck, peppering the skin there with kisses.

As usual, you can only pretend to resist him for so long before you relax in his arms, grumbling quietly about his hair.

"You can work on my hair later, love," Diavolo mumbles, breathing in your scent deeply, wishing he could mark you with his own.

"You've been saying that for the past month, Diavolo," You chide. "That's how it got so tangled in the first place."

But the demon ignores your words entirely, grinning as he continues to kiss up and down your body until the only sounds that leave your mouth are gasps of quiet contentment. "Diavolo," You mumble when his hands slip beneath your robe, his skin finding your bare shoulder now that it's no longer hidden by silk.

"D-Diavolo," You repeat when he pulls your robe down just the slightest, savoring the softness of your skin. Indeed, it's softer than any fabric he's ever touched, smoother and sweeter, and he just wants to go a little lower to see if—"Diavolo," You gasp, stiffening in his hold as you grab the robe he had been slipping down your shoulder.

"What?" The demon asks in alarm, eyes wide. You've never looked so uncomfortable in his hold. "Darling?" He asks, leaning back. "Was this not okay? Fu—I mean, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

"No," You mumble, eyes still not fully set on the demon. Diavolo follows your concerned gaze, his eyebrows furrowing when he doesn't see anything. But then he studies the ground a little more and his eyes fall upon what has you frozen so uncomfortably, and the demon groans as you try to explain.

"There's a baby squirrel watching us."

You feel kind of bad.

You didn't mean to let that undead squirrel cockblock Diavolo earlier, but it felt so unnatural to do anything intimate with such youthful eyes watching. Of course, your lover had wasted no time in chasing the chipmunk away, but when he returned, the mood was completely lost, and you could only giggle while Diavolo scowled in annoyance, reluctantly letting you comb through the rest of his hair.

"Don't pout," You mumble, threading your hands through the red, watching your fingers disappear and reappear. You're quite proud of your work, given that Diavolo's hair looked worse than a stray dog's in the morning, and it's hard to stop savoring the fruits of your three-hour-long labor. "My mother used to say that if you frown like that, your face will get stuck that way."

"Was your mother also the one who taught you to be prim and proper around baby squirrels?" Diavolo practically hisses, and then you've descended into another fit of laughter while the demon continues to pout.

Ordinarily, you wouldn't mind jumping onto his lap and kissing him into oblivion, until he's so blissed out that the demon has no choice but to finish what you started so that you can fuck each other into oblivion like the demons you are. But the sight of those oh so innocent animal eyes lingers with you, and the most intimate thing you can do is press a peck to Diavolo's cheek before tugging him to his feet, where you stand in front of him with pride.

"I know what will make you feel better," You declare confidently, hands on your hips.

"Killing that baby squirrel? Yeah, I'd do it too, if I could catch the bastard."

"No," You mumble, rolling your eyes playfully. You square Diavolo's shoulders, pushing his fists to his chest before you take your own stance four feet away. "Combat." You grin. "Fight your frustrations out."

The usual phrase is to fuck your frustrations out, but you've never had a problem with making exceptions for Diavolo.

"Really?" The demon groans, arching an eyebrow. "I know this is part of your plan to train me for the next cage fighting season, don't think that I—"

"Oh, hush," You cut him off, frowning. It takes little effort for you to pretend to be offended. Of course, he's absolutely right with that guess, but you're not going to let him realize that until you've weaseled him into the actual season competition. "Physical activity is known to be one of the best methods for relieving frustration," You inform the demon, beginning to circle him. "And it's said that the more frustrations you're harboring, the better your performance will be."

"I can think of a much better physical activity to relieve stress than this," Diavolo mutters under his breath, adopting his own fighting stance.

"What's that?" You ask, wanting the demon to repeat himself.

"N-nothing," Diavolo mumbles, his ears turning red.

How cute.

You waste no time on straying on the thought, though. It takes all of four seconds for you to throw the first punch.

And then the fight has begun.

Diavolo's progress as a student has been impressive, to say the least. He's successfully followed your every instruction perfectly, and the once awkward, heavy-footed man has become nearly as adept and mobile as you. If anything, his overall power is now probably more than your own, given that his hulking frame allows him to pack more power in a single punch than you can ever hope to achieve without using magic, and now that his injuries have fully healed, there's nothing hindering his full potential.

It's out of sheer willpower that you've managed to retain your winning streak thus far.

Your eyes are impossibly alert as Diavolo dodges every arm, knee, elbow you try to hit him with. Your technique is simple: keep the overwhelmingly strong demon on defense until you break through his shield, and never allow him to use any of that explosive strength.

Except that your technique usually needs to change halfway through every fight.

It takes Diavolo less time than usual to turn the tables on you—a testimony to how irate he truly must have already been—and then you're the one defending, ducking and diving to avoid his every assault.

It's pure luck that the two of you happen to be sparring here, of all places. You noticed the way the grounds on this cliffside literally morph to your aid, the grass twisting to prevent you from ever stumbling and tree roots magically appearing whenever you need something to bounce off of. Initially, you assumed that the ground here was equally resourceful to Diavolo, but weeks upon weeks of sparring has taught you that you're the only one with the upper hand. And thank goodness for that—because if you and Diavolo were to spar in front of the Temple of the Grim Reaper, where the two of you are evenly matched with nothing to weigh the odds in your favor, you know you'd lose to the demon.

And someone being stronger than you is a feat that not even the current Victor can claim—the very reason you want Diavolo to enter the cage fights so badly.

You spring backward when Diavolo attempts to punch you in the chest, knowing that a single hit will knock you out if you face it head-on. Defending his kicks are a little easier, given that you can use your own legs to hold him back, but the days where the two of you would spar and you'd end the fight without Diavolo ever landing a hit on you are over. Now, you have to block each kick manually, nearly every attack too well-placed for you to successfully dodge.

The fight lasts a long time. Your bodies dance back and forth over the whole field, occasionally crossing into the swamp as you continue to attack and evade, hit and jump, dive and deflect.

As usual, you both steer clear of the cliffside, the sharp drop too large for either of you to ever risk falling into—but today, the fight seems to carry more weight. This one is longer, perhaps longer than any of them have ever been. And you're certain that Diavolo is beginning to realize that he just might be able to beat you.

You dart back as he throws another kick your way, hesitating briefly when you realize that you can't see the cliffside anywhere. You glance right as Diavolo punches, left when he thrusts an uppercut your way, and forward again as he tries to grab your throat—and only then do you realize that the cliffside must be behind you, and that the swamp is far too distant for you to have much space between the steep drop and your own current position.

You nearly stumble forward when Diavolo tries to grab your leg, momentarily fearful that you'll back off the side of the cliff, but then the abrupt realization that the demon is still fighting and kicking convinces you that you must be a suitable distance away from the drop, and you take another step backward.

What a terrible mistake.

There's a moment where you're awkwardly balanced on air, one leg holding you up while the other searches desperately for footing, and you and Diavolo exchange a look of pure fear.

And then you're falling.

Diavolo reacts quicker than you've ever seen him move, scrambling forward to grab your wrist, reaching for the right, fingers drawing closer and closer. You reach your hand out in a gesture of desperation, trying oh so desperately to grab his hand—but the demon switches gears completely and dives forward to reach your left hand, his finger wrapping around your weaker wrist before throwing your body over the cliffside, never letting go even as you fly over the cliffside and land back on the ground, where the demon traps you underneath his own frame.

You blink, abruptly unsure of how the demon managed to turn the tables so quickly when usually you would have been able to squirm out of his hold.

And a memory surfaces in your mind.

"Do you know what they say?" You continued, rambling on despite knowing that the demon didn't particularly care. "Sometimes, when you get injured, your body is even stronger when it heals back!"

"I'm sure," Diavolo said drily, sarcasm laced so thickly into his voice that there was no doubt he didn't believe your words.

"It's true!" You protested, pausing in wrapping his forearm in gauze to show the demon your wrist. "Look, can't you see the scar? I injured my wrist there a few centuries ago. And I thought it would trouble me for the rest of my life, but it healed wonderfully under the same herbs and treatments I'm giving you. And now, my right wrist is miles stronger than my left, even though my left is the one that's never been injured!"

Your eyes widen when you realize that the demon actually remembers your words from back then.

Within seconds, he's got one hand wrapped around your throat and the other continues to grip your left wrist, your stronger hand held under Diavolo's foot, which presses down insistently as you struggle.

"No way," You mumble, writhing once more in an attempt to escape his hold. But you've taught Diavolo well—too well—and his grip is unrelenting.

"Goddammit!" You shout in frustration, the fight filtering out of your body when you see how powerless you are in this position. "You—you cheated! That wasn't fair! You didn't fight honorably!"

But the underlying message is clear.

You lost.

The demon holds you for a second longer, the triumphant (and slightly awed) grin on his face almost melting your inner frustration at losing, but then he lets go, and his smile is so big and happy that you can't be even a little upset when he wraps you in a hug.

"I did it!" The demon shouts into your ear, and you flinch away at the noise. "I actually did it! I beat you!"

"You cheated," You mumble under your breath, looking away in mild embarrassment as the demon continues to celebrate.

"Maybe," Diavolo comments, eyes twinkling. "But you told me that everything's fair on the battlefield, and the fact remains that I won, and you lost."

"Yeah, yeah," You mumble, scowling. "Just rub it in, why don't you? And what would you have done if your little plan hadn't worked? Would you have just watched me fall off that cliff?"

"No," Diavolo says innocently, smiling. "I would have jumped off with you!"

Cue a firm smack on the back of the head.

Diavolo continues smiling, though, his mood completely lifted now that he's won a fight against you for the first time.

"Hey, hey," He mumbles, wrapping his arms around you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder. "Aren't you proud of me?" He asks. "Tell me how proud you are, darling," He kisses your neck. "Isn't it such a turn on that I'm stronger than you?"

"Yeah," You mutter under your breath, scowling. "You cheated. Very sexy."

But Diavolo pays you no heed, only continuing to kiss every inch of skin that's exposed, his tongue darting out to push your robe down.

"Diavolo," You warn, opening an eye to glance around in case there are any more baby squirrels watching. But when you find none, you relax a little more, leaning against the demon as he makes his way up to your ear, leaving a long, wet kiss against the shell.

"I can't stay too long," You mumble, though your words sound more like moans. "I have to...something...home…" You close your eyes fully when you feel teeth scrape your neck, too occupied with savoring the feeling of Diavolo to bother coming up with any of your terrible lies.

"Yeah right," The demon mumbles, his hand settling over your waist. "If you were actually going to leave, you would have left half an hour ago."

Your eyes snap open at that.

"What?" You flinch, instinctively glancing up at the moon. And, sure enough, it's position in the sky is much further along than where it usually is when you leave, and alarms begin blaring in your head. "Oh no," You mumble, gripping Diavolo's hand. "I'm so sorry, Diavolo, but I really do have to—"

"It's okay."

Diavolo smiles at you, a sweet and charming grin that melts your heart. "Go ahead, darling, and I'll be here when you come back at night."

"You don't want to return to the Temple of the Grim Reaper?" You ask, thinking about how much warmer the holy shelter you first brought him to is.

"Uh," Diavolo shoots a skeptical glance toward the swamp you're about to pass through on your way back to the palace. "I don't really want to cross the..."

"Swamp. Right," You mumble. You see a moment of offense flare in Diavolo's eyes, as if he still isn't sure whether you genuinely believe him when he claims that the swamp attacks him as he passes through it (which, to some degree you don't; but you know that it does something to him based on the sounds he makes when he follows you, so you're certain there's some truth to his words) before a calmer look passes through his eyes.

"We'll talk more when you get back, alright?" Diavolo offers you a silly smile, giving you a casual wink before he blows you a kiss.

"Alright," You mumble, already planning your nightly escape for when you'll return to spend more time with him. "And Diavolo?" You call, turning back.

The demon arches an eyebrow at you, already sitting back down on the ground where he probably intends to slumber for the next few hours.

"I really am proud of you."

"Thank you for the royal silks, princess! You truly are too kind!"

"I received your fruit bouquet, miss! You have my thanks!"

"I am in your debt, my lady! The decorative candles you sent were stunning!

"Princess, princess! Thank you for the flower arrangement!"

"My sister and I loved the dresses you sent, my lady! Thank you!"

You can barely hear the sound of your own thoughts as you pass through the halls of the palace, curtsying in response to every expression of gratitude, offering as many smiles as you can to those around you. It's impossible for you to properly acknowledge each of the maids and knights you delivered gifts to (and you now think that it may have been a better idea to have spread the presents out, rather than deliver them all on the same night), but you can't help the overwhelming satisfaction that fills your heart at seeing such merriment in the palace.

"Princess."

You instinctively curtsy at the knight who stands before you, assuming that he's another person who wishes to thank you for your gift—but a glance forward reveals that it's a familiar face, the very knight who's been keeping you company in the palace. When he holds his hand up, the remaining knights and maids who had been chasing after you to thank you grow silent, and you can feel the crowd disperse under his strict glare.

You toss a sheepish glance behind you, deciding that you'll properly talk to each individual person at a later date, and one-by-one rather than all at once, but a certain relief does fill your heart when you realize that they're not all clambering after you anymore.

"Thank you, Sire," You whisper to the knight in front of you, grinning. "I had not realized that my actions would cause such a stir in the palace."

"I believe I am the one who should be thanking you, princess." The knight gestures for you to walk ahead of him, as is customary for a knight and a princess, but you pull him into stride with you as you make your way to your quarters. "The painter you commissioned showed me some of his past works. I never expected that I would be painted at this young an age, and much less with a royal-caliber artist, but...you have my sincerest gratitude."

You beam at the man, not missing the faint flush on the knight's face when he sees your smile. "I'm glad you like him. He was the painter my parents commissioned to draw me when I turned of age, actually."

"Really?" The knight chokes. "You commissioned such a prestigious painter to draw a mere knight?"

You frown at that.

"You are not a mere knight. The fact that you are a knight alone should be a source of pride, Sire." You pause, realizing that you're at the door to your private chambers. But still, you don't enter. Nor do you dismiss the knight next to you.

"Princess?" The demon questions, glancing at you nervously.

"Are you proud to serve the crown, Sire?" The question is sharp, demanding an immediate answer.

"It will be an honor when I am allowed to serve under you," The knight responds swiftly, and you can tell from the way he says the words that he means them.

"But are you proud to serve the current crown?"

"Yes, princess."

But the flat inflection of the demon's voice is proof enough that the words are just that: words. They do not go deeper, they do not resonate with his heart, they do not march to the beat that he holds his weapon to. This knight may serve the crown but there is no pride there—a fact which brings a smile to your face.

"Sire," You call, urging him to face you. "Sire, I assure you that when I take the crown, I will not rule as my parents do. When the first snow falls, when the public learns the truth, when the world watches the Devildom take a new empress, there will be change everywhere."

A confident smile spreads across your face as you speak of the news your parents informed you of—the best news of your life. "When I step to the imperial throne at the end of this year, I will make you and every other knight proud to serve the royal palace. I will bring food, water, joy, and happiness to the poverty districts. I will restore balance to the laws of magic and permit its usage among those beyond the imperial family. I will withdraw our troops from the public's homes, and I will restore knights to their proper position of being defenders of the people rather than forced oppressors."

"I…" The demon trails off. "I believe you, princess. And when you become Empress upon the first snow of this year, I will be as devoted to your cause as you are. But why are you telling me this?"

"Because, Sire," You say, a small grin finding its way onto your face. "When the day comes where I become Empress, I will need a knight of honor. A knight solely devoted to me, my safety, and my life."

"And…" The demon trails off, his eyes growing wide.

"And I want you to take that position, Sire." You smile proudly at his utterly bewildered expression, warmth filling your heart at the pure joy that surfaces in his eyes. "Would you do me the honor?"

"O-of course, princess!" The knight practically shouts, dropping to a knee and drawing his sword instantly, offering it to you.

You take it from his hands proudly, testing the weight of the steel in your own grip before laying the blade from shoulder to shoulder to shoulder, saying the honorary words you memorized so many years ago. You know you'll need to repeat this all at a ceremony later, when you truly are Empress and there are witnesses, but the moment that this knight is bound to you begins now—and you know he will guard you with his life, whether the bond is formalized or not.

"I will guard you with my life, princess," The knight vows solemnly, looking up at you with eyes of pure adoration. "When you take the throne this winter, as the first snow graces the Devildom skies, I will be by your side, and I will defend you from now until the end of time."

You smile softly, letting the knight complete his vow.

"As long as I live, you shall be protected. As long as my sword stands between you and an enemy, I will fight for your life. As long as my body can move, as long as my heart beats, as long as the blood in my body is warm, there will be no threat great enough to harm you. I pledge my life, heart, mind, and soul to you, princess. I will be your shield and sword, and I am yours from this moment until the end of time. I give to you my future, and with it every ounce of my strength, pride, and loyalty, such that you are protected into eternity."

"Thank you, Sire," You whisper, placing a hand on his shoulders, watching him rise. "I trust you with my life."

The demon bows, his eyes meeting yours only when you urge him to, and then you recognize an unspoken curiosity that hadn't been there before.

"Sire," You call, urging him to be candid. "There is something else on your mind, is there not? Let there be no hesitation between us. Ask your question."

"Ah, well…" The demon trails off. "I was merely wondering if you or your parents had selected an Emperor to rule with you. You need not answer my question, of course, it's merely a curiosity. A trifling matter. Trivial, really. I don't mean to imply anything at all—"

"Sire." You cut him off smoothly, raising a hand. You offer him a sympathetic smile, quietly realizing that there must have been some hope in his mind that your heart would be unclaimed. After all, it's hardly rare for a knight and a princess to rule together—what better way to combine knowledge of the battlefield and politics than to wed two people who specialize in both? Alas, the time you've spent away from the palace has given rise to some deeper feelings, and the moment the knight muttered the word Emperor, only one demon's face could come to mind.

The man who nearly threw you off a cliff two hours ago.

"My heart belongs to another," You say, placing a tender hand on the knight's shoulder. "And I will introduce you to him one day. Perhaps sooner than I will introduce him to others. But…"

"I understand," The knight says, bowing his head respectfully. "I will await that day with pleasure, princess."

You nod your head, offering the demon another curtsy before you turn around to open the door to your private quarters.

But the call of your title makes you turn around.

"Princess?" The knight asks, somewhat meekly.

"Yes, Sire?"

"This...this man you speak of. The one who has claimed your heart, and whom you intend on making Emperor. He wouldn't…"

"Speak your mind, Sire." You watch with curiosity as the demon struggles to find his words, evidently choosing them carefully.

"He wouldn't...hurt you, would he?"

Diavolo? You wonder. Hurt me? The very thought makes you laugh—why, the demon can hardly land a punch on you during training without gasping and checking to see if your alright, the very notion of him ever injuring you brings an amused smile to your face.

"No, Sire. He would never hurt me," You declare confidently, smiling.

And as the two of you part, as you enter your private chambers and settle down, you've never been more certain of anything in your whole life.

Diavolo waits with an utterly unreadable expression on his face.

He's not waiting for you to return—though he knows, based on the location of the moon, that you should be approaching the cliffside sometime soon.

No, he's waiting for his father.

The elder demon has been increasing his visits to Diavolo's mind as of late, repeatedly checking in on his son to ensure that the future prince has not been growing too smitten with you to be of use to the Resistance. Ordinarily, Diavolo wouldn't care for his father's visits much—in fact, he actively dreads them, since he finds himself constantly being reminded of what he will eventually have to do to you—but yesterday, the elder demon had said there would be a surprise for Diavolo the next day.

And as old as Diavolo is, he's always enjoyed a good surprise.

But still, the expression on his face is something that no one would be able to read.

Not even himself.

His face is torn between a wistful blankness and an angry scorn, an odd combination of the two which has scared off most of the local animals. All his thoughts are focused on the situation at hand.

Namely, you.

Well, you certainly seem to be having a difficult time over there.

Diavolo flinches when the buzz of magic washes through his body, but this feeling is different. The magic has a different quality to it, not oppressive and heavy but instead light and...it vaguely reminds him of tea?

Diavolo shakes his head, his mouth hanging ajar when he registers who that voice belongs to—a voice he hasn't heard in all too long.

"No way," The demon murmurs, eyes wide.

Ah, so you can hear me. I was worried that I was performing the spell incorrectly, but it appears I succeeded.

"Barbatos!" Diavolo practically shouts, jumping up. He's abruptly overcome by an overwhelming urge to hug his friend, but, well, the magic is nothing but telepathy, and the green-eyed demon is nowhere to be found.

Lower your voice, my lord. This connection goes two-ways, and you're practically shouting into my head right now.

"You never told me you were learning magic!" Diavolo exclaims, entirely shocked. "And how many times have I told you not to call me your lord? We haven't even taken the palace yet!"

A low chuckle fills Diavolo's ears, but for once, the demon doesn't tense at the sound. It's not abrasive and ominous, like his father's. No, the sound of Barbatos on the other line is nothing but comforting, and it gives Diavolo a strange sense of relief.

Your father taught me. And please, my lord, you don't need to be humble. You and I both know that as long as you complete your task with the princess, Rebellion will succeed no matter what.

"Oh," Diavolo mumbles, voice flat. "So, is that it? Father sent you to make sure that I'm not stepping out of line with the princess? So that I don't betray the Resistance? Well, you can tell him that—"

Actually, my lord, my decision to speak with you was of my own volition.

Diavolo is silent.

I thought...that you might need a friend to talk to.

Diavolo's shoulders slump. "How much do you know?" He asks wearily, eyes drooping as he flops to the ground. Barbatos is absolutely right, of course—the demon has never needed a friend more than in this moment—but Diavolo needs to understand how much of the truth the demon already knows.

In truth? Roughly everything. Your father asked me to check on you using my powers, so I've observed up until the present for this timeline.

"Roughly everything?" Diavolo asks, ears perking up. "What haven't you seen?"

Ah, well. Barbatos is uncomfortably silent for a second. I tend to skip ahead whenever I see you and the princess growing intimate in my visions.

"Wha—" Diavolo chokes on his words, a furious flush painting his cheeks. "The princess and I have never been intimate, Barbatos. We've never had sex!"

I'm sure, my lord.

"Believe me!"

I do, my lord.

Diavolo groans. But he can tell from the playful inflection of his friend's voice that the demon is just teasing, in his own special way. And after being gone for so long, Diavolo realizes that he's missed it.

"So…" The demon trails off, his voice growing serious. "If you've seen all that, you know my issue, then. You know that I…" Diavolo swallows, abruptly realizing the words that he's never even admitted to himself yet.

"I love her," He murmurs with a strange wistfulness.

Yes, Barbatos says. I've seen you. And you should know, my lord; she is equally infatuated with you.

"Bet all that infatuation will disappear when she watches me kill her family in front of her, right?" Diavolo's voice is dry, and the humor to his joke falls on deaf ears. "Tell me, Barbatos, is there any reality where Rebellion succeeds, and I don't have to watch her die?"

Barbatos's silence is a bigger answer than his words.

"I thought so."

Diavolo…

Barbatos trails off, unsure of how to help the demon. Even the honorific is dropped, and abruptly, the conversation switches from servant and master to just two friends talking, one about to get their heart ripped to shreds.

If it helps, she doesn't hate you in all the timelines.

"She doesn't?"

Sometimes…sometimes, if you explain things to her, she understands. But you have to make her understand. She... it's going to be hard to explain to her why she cannot live, why people will only fear her no matter how good a ruler she tries to be. After all, there is a reason why she is the key to Rebellion. And if you can make her see why, then maybe, just maybe, she might…

"She might willingly let me execute her in front of the masses?" The demon leans back on the ground, frowning. He's not sure if that situation is better or worse than you actively hating him.

She won't be willing. But...she won't hate you, either.

"And is this timeline one of those instances?" Diavolo's fingers dig into the grass, hopeful.

That depends on you, Diavolo. But the princess is a good person on the side of evil. And she can never change that—the masses will always know and recognize her as the tyrants' daughter. There can be no peace for the world until every member of the royal family is erased from existence.

“Barbatos,” Diavolo mumbles under his breath.

Yes?

"If the princess is a good person on the wrong side, then what am I?" Diavolo looks up at the sky, oddly enough, like he's asking God for the answer instead of his old friend. "How can I call myself..."

You are a good person, Diavolo. The fact that you are so torn up over this decision is proof of that very fact.

"Does a good person kill another good person?" Diavolo asks. "Is that the world that we're fighting for? How can we have good people on the side of evil if there are no evil people on the side of good?"

Do you want to know the truth, Diavolo?

"Only if it's coming from you, Barbatos."

Your father.

"Huh?" The demon asks, raising his eyebrows in confusion. "What about my father?"

Your father is the man you are looking for: an evil person who was born on the side of good. Either your father will have you kill the princess, or to save your princess, you must kill your father—but you know what you must do. No matter what, should you choose to defend the princess, you are defending a good person. But the moment you choose her, you are siding with evil. And as soon as you do that, your father will not hesitate to wipe you out with the princess. And when that happens, he will be the sole inheritor of the Devildom, and our kingdom will be ruled for eternity by an evil man.

"You're really giving me no choice here, Barbatos," Diavolo mumbles under his breath.

Because you are too honorable a man for this to be an issue of choice, Diavolo. Your father will be the demon king, no matter what. It is only a question of whether you will be there to succeed him—whether you will be able to be the final inheritor of the Devildom. And if you are not, then this world really is doomed.

And there it is.

The overwhelming truth.

The god awful realization that holds Diavolo in place.

He is the only barrier between an eternity of torment for the Devildom and an eternity of peace. He is the difference between the Devildom remaining the Devildom or it becoming true Hell. Under his father, the people may suffer just as poorly as they are under the current tyrants—but under Diavolo, they will be free.

And the price for an eternity of freedom?

You.

One life against an infinite amount of others.

One life against an endless amount of happiness.

One life against an eternity of peace, prosperity, and bliss.

One life to save the realm.

The question plaguing Diavolo's mind was never a question; there was only ever one answer. One choice. One option for the demon who has a heart too good for those around him.

"So, what do you suggest I do?" Diavolo asks drily, staring up at the midnight sky. "How can I look the princess in the eye and hold her close when I know I'll be her end? How can I do anything at all without hurting her in some way?"

Have you ever heard of living in the moment, my lord?

Diavolo's lips curve upward, recalling your words to him from just one month ago as you demanded so breathily that he abandon his reservations and kiss you.

"I have, Barbatos."

Then you know what to do.

And for the first time, Diavolo truly does. Even if he hates it.

MASTERLIST

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | ✔

Word count: 6.5k

Notes: Here's a list of a few other original titles I went through ^^ The Tragedy of Julius Caesar / The Tragedy of Diavolo / The Price of Power / Hellfire Sings / Masses Have Mercy / Beauty and the Beast / We All Fall Down / The Ultimate Sacrifice / And I Wait / - Each title carried different meanings, but my favorite was the Tragedy of Julius Caesar. I'll explain this in chapter 7 :D

Comment & Like

Next Update: 9/02/20

I do not own the rights to Obey Me! or any of the characters within it.

[littlemdzsdump]

practice makes perfect (or close enough)

it’s little ol’ me, xicheng-ing it up again (๑>ᴗ<๑) ~

Jiang Cheng did not have musical hands. 

His hands have their own personality to it. They mirror the training and the hard work he put into his craftsmanship as a swordsman. They’re large and strong and they embody the sect leader that he is. But they’re calloused and stiff, only knowing the hilt of a sword and coarse bow strings. They cramp up when he writes papers for too long and they’re hard enough to call attention to a loud room with an easy slam. His hands are too rough from hours of archery and didn’t have nearly the dexterity that musicians of the Gusu Lan sect were born with and trained to hone. 

Jiang Cheng never realized that his hands could never hold an instrument, because he never thought about holding one anyway.

But ever since he had walked past the winding paths of Cloud Recess, following a lingering melody and had accidentally seen a certain Gusu sect leader practicing in peaceful serenity, well…

The smallest part of his heart yearned to be able to reply with a melody of his own. 

But Jiang Cheng hasn’t ever been musically... inclined to say the least. 

So he had begrudgingly decided to ask his older brother for help. Mainly, because Jiang Cheng didn’t really have a plethora of choices to choose from anyways. It’d be the first olive branch that he’d be extending to the other man after the years of misunderstanding and guilt that had built up between them. 

The reaction his brother had upon hearing his request was not… unexpected as much as it was just plain excessive.

Of course, Wei Wuxian had to laugh in his face first, going so far as snorting loudly and continuing to laugh so hard that he couldn’t hold himself up. It could have been worse if Jiang Cheng had decided to ask for this favor in public, with how hard Wei Ying was laughing at him. But his brother came around and had proposed the dizi as it was both his cultivation weapon and pass time hobby.

~

“Can you...I don’t know, not spit when you’re blowing on it?” Wei Ying suggested, though he sounded more teasing than helpful.

“Well it’s not like I’m trying to,” Jiang Cheng replied exasperatedly. Jiang Cheng held the instrument to his lips and blew into it again. He’s grateful that he had little to no affairs to take care of today. He didn’t even want to begin to imagine what people would say if they saw their sect leader failing to blow out a note on a stupid flute.

“Jiang Cheng, how dare you call it stupid? Chengqin is a prized musical masterpiece” Wei Ying said, pulling his flute close to his chest. He hadn’t realized that he had spoken out loud. But honestly, Jiang Cheng didn’t even regret it. Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes, roughly putting down his own dizi. It wasn’t like he was using Chengqin anyways, so he didn’t see what the problem was. 

“I can’t play this.” Jiang Cheng stated, crossing his hands over his chest. He was acting like a child, but they had been locked up in his room for hours with no progress. Though Wei Ying didn’t explicitly say anything, his brother was just as tired as he was. 

Wei Ying let out a soft sigh, sitting comfortably down across from his brother. 

“Well, I don’t think that you can’t play it. I just think you don’t want to play it,” Wei Ying said, twirling his dizi around on his fingers. Jiang Cheng let out a disbelieving snort.

“I really think that I just can’t play the dizi” Jiang Cheng said, pouring some tea for himself and his brother. He’s taking a sip from his cup when his brother speaks up again.

“I don’t understand why you’re so adamant about not asking the Gusu Lan sect. You know they’re home to two of the best musical cultivators in our generation” Wei Ying comments, sipping at his tea. Jiang Cheng just shakes his head.

“I’m just learning to learn, not for cultivation or anything. I can’t ask for their time over something like this-”

“Oh please Jiang Cheng,” Wei Ying interrupts. He’s a bit aggressive when he puts down his finished cup but Jiang Cheng doesn’t comment on it. 

“Just come to Gusu with me; I’ll make sure they can’t say no,” Wei Ying proposes. The wide smile on his face doesn’t go with the mischievous glint in his eyes. But Jiang Cheng can’t refuse, when his brother has extended an olive branch back to him.  ~

With all the responsibilities of a sect leader, it is hard to find enough open time for a trip, let alone to leave his sect for another far away place. But Jiang Cheng manages it after Wei Ying’s relentless persistence. Some time when the cherry blossoms begin to bloom, Jiang Cheng shares a sword with Wei Ying as they head to somewhere high above the clouds.

It’s a bit difficult, carrying two people, but Jiang Cheng’s cultivation is more than adequately prepared to handle it. Besides, the wild golden core in his body wasn’t technically his anyways.

“Glad we’re finally sharing something,” Wei Ying tells him in the midst of their flight.

Jiang Cheng huffs a dry laugh. Between the two of them, at least Wei Ying can joke about it.

~

When they arrive at Cloud Recess, Wei Ying rushes towards the gate with more comfort than Jiang Cheng expects. The sight leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He pushes away the small lingering dreariness in his chest and follows after someone who knows where they were going.

Jiang Cheng could have easily been escorted as part of Wei Ying’s company, but he shows his sect leader’s badge when they get to the gate. 

It’s been a few months since Jiang Cheng had last visited Cloud Recess.

It is the same as it always is. They walk the misty white mountain path quietly. 

Their path leads them past the rushing stream and the small hill that was home to the bunnies. Jiang Cheng planned to wait on the side as his brother tended to the bunnies. But Wei Ying is very persuasive and he ends up sitting in the middle of all the fluff balls.

It’s how they’re found, an hour or so after their promised arrival time. It is not the image that Jiang Cheng wanted to put for himself as a dignified sect leader. 

As Wei Ying babbles about how the bunnies have been behaving to his stonic husband, Jiang Cheng is too busy ignoring how Lan Wangji is glaring at the bunnies that he pets to take notice of the relief in Lan Xichen’s eyes.

~

For the next few days, Lan Xichen becomes the main person that keeps him company. It was very obvious that it wouldn’t be Lan Wangji, because they weren’t that good of friends. Besides, he was too busy being better than friends with his brother. Jiang Cheng wasn’t necessarily complaining, but at the same time, Lan Xichen’s company was a bit more of a distraction than he could handle. Despite all the time they spent together, he still couldn’t make the words he wanted to ask come out.

Even when Wei Ying had explained the main gist of why Jiang Cheng was meandering around Cloud Recess in the first place. Even though Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen had taken care of most of their sect leader duties. Only when Jiang Cheng had about two days left of his stay did the words finally come tumbling out of his lips.

On a random afternoon walk, nonetheless, at the most inconvenient time possible. 

“If you don’t mind, I would like to watch you play the guqin” Jiang Cheng had stuttered out, hopelessly unprepared. The pace that Lan Xichen walked with did not stop at his request, though it did slow down a bit.  

“You want to watch me play? Have you been feeling any ailments recently, or…” Lan Xichen prompts, his soft voice as assuring and calm as ever.

Jiang Cheng swears the older man is just teasing him right now.

“No... I would just like to watch you play a normal piece.” Jiang Cheng tries. At the request, Lan Xichen hums. Jiang Cheng is surprised at how close to a purr his voice sounded. They reach the top steps of Cloud Recess, nearing the path into the pavilion. Lan Xichen suddenly turns around to face Jiang Cheng, who had fallen a step or so behind in embarrassment.

“I usually play the xiao but—”

“Anything you want to play is fine” Jiang Cheng stutters out helplessly. Lan Xichen’s smile does not falter at the interruption, though he does let out a breathy laugh. The Lan sect leader turns around, Jiang Cheng nearly walking into him.

“If you would care to join me at the Hanshi, I can play a short piece for you and share some music,” Lan Xichen suggests.

Golden hour in Cloud Recess paints Lan Xichen’s already perfect profile with heavenly sunlight. 

Jiang Cheng can’t deny him.

~

Sat across from him, Lan Xichen plucks the strings of the guqin delicately. It is as beautiful as the player and Jiang Cheng is immensely (helplessly) distracted for many reasons. So it feels kind of redundant when the same instrument is placed before Jiang Cheng and he is supposed to play the same thing.

Though, blessedly, Jiang Cheng is able to pick out a few wobbly notes from the guqin after the first try. He no longer has to live out his sad dizi days (read as hour).

The melody that Lan Xichen picks is quite short and light. It is happy and Jiang Cheng finds the notes memorable. But even after the numerous times that Lan Xichen spends teaching him which place to pick and which strings to press down, he still mixes it up. Jiang Cheng is easily frustrated and music is a very patient hobby. He figures this out a bit too late when he plucks one of the strings too harshly and it lets out an ugly whine under his hand.

Jiang Cheng sighs loudly, lifting his hand up harshly from the guqin and slamming his fisted hands into his lap. He stares at the instrument as if to scare it into playing the right notes for him (this seems to work with people, so maybe it’s a transferable skill).

But moreso Jiang Cheng is just feeling embarrassed.

He’s too busy wallowing in his own self pity and shame to notice that Lan Xichen had walked across the room and sat down beside him. 

Jiang Cheng jolts a little bit when he feels a small nudge against his shoulders. He looks to the right to see Lan Xichen sitting really close. If the man just leaned over, they would be cheek to cheek.

“Playing the first time is always hard. But the more you practice, the easier it gets” 

Jiang Cheng lets the sect leader place his hands onto the instrument again. When Lan Xichen removes his warm grasp from Jiang Cheng’s wrist, Jiang Cheng stares wordlessly at the instrument in front of him, not fully processing how his hands were transferred to the strings. It takes him another moment to gather his wits enough to shakily pluck the notes of the melody that was first shown to him. With his mentor so close, he can’t make a mistake. 

His pride can’t afford it.

A bit shakily, he still manages to pluck out the right tune. At the end of the melody, Jiang Cheng turns to see Lan Xichen look at him with a bit of pride (he didn’t dare think it could be) or something akin to that in his eyes. 

“That was very good, Jiang Wanyin. I have some small pointers, if you would accept them” Lan Xichen says, staring deeply at Jiang Cheng as he asks. The Jiang sect leader can only nod silently as Lan Xichen waves to the guqin again.

“Please place your hands as you normally did and play the melody a bit slower,” Lan Xichen instructs. Jiang Cheng easily does what he is told and plucks the strings slowly. But his fingers falter after the fourth note of the 12 note melody. Before he is able to draw his hands back in frustration, Lan Xichen’s hand is covering one of his own.

Jiang Cheng takes in a startled breath. He hopes it is quiet enough that Lan Xichen didn’t have time to catch it.

“Usually I would use a pick for this. But as a finger picking technique, try to brush the tips of your thumb under the strings…” With one free hand Lan Xichen shows it on the same musical plane, while the other hand molds against Jiang Cheng’s hand as the other plays as told. 

They continue slowly through the rest of the piece with Jiang Cheng (admittedly) getting more and more comfortable in the space that he shared with Lan Xichen. When the last note rings out, Lan Xichen moves a bit back and stares at Jiang Cheng’s profile. 

Jiang Cheng can’t find it in himself to look at the other sect leader.

“I must say, you have a very nice voice, Jiang Wanyin” Lan Xichen compliments. Jiang Cheng stares at him in confusion. His face must have quite the expression on it, for Lan Xichen lets out a small laugh and shakes his head softly.

“You must not have realized that you hum along to the notes that you play,” Jiang Cheng widens his eyes and he quickly looks down to his lap, “But your pitch is very accurate. I would recommend a look into voice cultivation if you have some time on your hands,” 

Lan Xichen is all soft suggestions and it does nothing to stop the blush that rises high up onto his cheekbones.  

“Now that we’ve practiced so hard, would you like to accompany me on this piece?” Lan Xichen suggests, brushing his robes softly. Jiang Cheng sputters, so much like a sect leader.

“I-I, how can I? I just learned to-”

“I will play the melody from before along with you,” Lan Xichen reassures. Jiang Cheng can only look up helplessly as the older man gets up and crosses the room again. When he gets to the other side, he sits down at the guqin. Lan Xichen takes some time to settle himself. But when he is finished, he stares at Jiang Cheng in anticipation.

“Won’t you try?” Lan Xichen asks, almost prompts. The fear that courses in Jiang Cheng’s veins oddly reminds him of the first time that he had first stepped out into a duel. When he was much younger and much more insecure. He’s surprised at how similar this feels now, even though he is not performing at all.

But he is playing with the infamous Zewu-Jun, so maybe death would be a light punishment.

Lan Xichen plays some opening notes, something that Jiang Cheng recognizes as the same key and he enters with his practiced melody when Lan Xichen nods to him from across the room. He plays it well enough and they end up repeating the melody together a few times before Jiang Cheng lifts his hands off the instrument as Lan Xichen takes over. The song lifts and sways with life in each ringing note. It may not have any cultivation purpose, but the movements throughout the music is piercing and clear. 

The song crescendos and Jiang Cheng’s ears ring with familiarity.

He’s heard this piece before. 

When Jiang Cheng looks up at Lan Xichen, he looks so immersed in the music that it seems as if there were no one else in the room. It is an alluring look on him and makes Jiang Cheng realize that no amount of practice will bring him to the same sentiment. However, as the music rings in his heart, Jiang Cheng can’t seem to mind. 

“I quite liked that,” Jiang Cheng admits in the quiet overcast after Lan Xichen’s emotional playing. Lan Xichen smiles a bit to himself before looking up from the guqin.

“I am glad to have shared my own music with Jiang Wanyin,” Lan Xichen says.

“You wrote that?” Jiang Cheng is not surprised, it was such a beautiful piece.

“Hm…” Lan Xichen admits softly. Jiang Cheng huffs out a small laugh at how much he sounds like his brother. 

Outside the Hanshi, Wei Ying hides behind the other Twin Jade of Gusu. He’s peeking inconspicuously through the window, praying that Jiang Cheng’s attention was drawn elsewhere to really see him. Covering for his boyfriend, Lan Zhan’s white robes match enough to camouflage with the colors of the Hanshi doors. 

Wei Ying smiles as he watches the interactions between their brothers. 

“Finally!” Wei Ying whispers shouts into Lan Zhan’s shoulder. He’s hiding behind his broader boyfriend, so he misses the small smile that graces his lips.

“Brother will be pleased,” is what Wei Ying hears instead.

[skylarmoon71]

TMNT 2014/2016 Donatello x Reader- Extra

“Donnie you girlfriend’s here!” Raph’s yell echoed throughout the lair, and you were sure you could feel Donatello blushing from all the way across the room. You punched Raph’s arm playfully as you moved past him, and he just smiled at you. Donatello who was typing on the computers halted, turning and looking you over nervously. 

“H-Hey (Y/N). “ Even though the both of you had been dating for weeks now, and he was still shy when talking with you. Or interacting in general. You didn’t mind though, you’d get him out of his shell soon enough. (Pun unintended).

You sat down next to him, watching as he went back to work. He was unplugging a few of the wires and adjusting them. For what, you weren’t sure. 

“Are you rearranging the system?” He nodded. 

“Just a small modification. Mickey wrecked the main servers again with hot cheese.” you snickered. 

“Hey brah, no one told me they weren’t cheese proof!” Laughing, you shifted to help him. You had a pretty good idea on how he set up the systems. It would go by much faster with the both of you working on it. Donnie glanced at you for a second, and you hadn’t even noticed. He was still lost on how he’d gotten someone like you to fall for him. 

He’d always been a person of logic. There was an explanation and a reason behind every issue. Most problems could be solved. Yet, the mystery that was you, it was the first time he didn’t have an explanation. His eyes drifted when he realized you clicked on a music player. It was a random radio station. You turned grinning at him. 

“Some music to help us.” you said. And just like that you were back at it. The music filtered through softly. And you found yourself humming to the lyrics you had no idea you even knew. It was a soft melody. And strangely, it made you think of Donatello. 

Something about you

It's like a addiction

Hit me with your best shot honey

I've got no reason to doubt you

'Cause some things hurt

And you're my only virtue

And I'm virtually yours

He listened to the words, eyes now completely focused on you. Your eyes looked so bright as you rocked your head to the slow beat. You weren’t even doing much, but when he looked at you all he could think was..

“Beautiful..” 

And you keep coming back, coming back again

Keep running round, running round, running round my head

And there's certain things that I adore

And there's certain things that I ignore

But I'm certain that I'm yours

Certain that I'm yours

Certain that I'm yours

The song was speaking to you on a deeper level. The more you listened, the harder it was for you to stay on task. You licked your lips, swallowing, because maybe it was just you, but the room felt a bit hotter now. 

There's something about you

It's when you get angry

Hold me, I saw mercy

And you're like a shoulder to turn to

If some things burn that's when we're hanging on for this life

We held on so tight

And you keep coming back, coming back again

Keep running round, running round, running round my head

You fiddle with the cord in your hand for a few seconds. Usually it never took you so long to find the correct jack. So why was it suddenly difficult for you to think. You wanted to steal a look in Donnie's direction to see his progress. 

“Who am I kidding, I just want an excuse to look at him.” It was true and you knew it. When you finally convinced yourself to look, his eyes were already on you. Your heart gave a quick beat, and in a matter of seconds, the items in your hands were completely forgotten. 

And there's certain things that I adore

And there's certain things that I ignore

But I'm certain that I'm yours

Certain that I'm yours (I adore you)

Certain that I'm yours (I adore you)

I adore you, I adore you

I adore you, I adore you

Certain that I'm yours

Your hands slid over the table, finding their way into Donnie’s. He closed his fingers over your palm, and you felt yourself moving on its own, getting closer to him. Your mouth opened slightly, ready to feel the softness of his lips. The taste of his tongue. The firmness of his biceps. The-

“No kissing in front of us bro!!” Mikey’s voice broke your little moment, and Donnie pulled away so quickly he fell out of his chair. He landed on his back, scrambling to gather himself from the very ungraceful fall. Your cheeks flushed. “I completely forgot they were there.” 

Damn Mikey, it was going to be difficult trying to get a kiss from Donnie now. Poor guy ran off mumbling something about getting more data cables. You sighed, placing your chin in your palm, watching him basically sprint away. Leonardo passed by, giving you a look. 

“I’m disappointed in you (Y/N), taking advantage of Donnie like that.” He was smiling as he said it and you laughed, chugging an empty soda can from the table at him. 

“Oh hush!” 

~~~~

Resetting the networks didn’t take that long, and when you were done you just chilled at the lair. They all just went about their day as normal. There was practice, then pizza then some more fighting, a lot more pizza. Sometimes you wondered if they were addicted to pizza. The day was coming to an end, and you knew what that meant. Pretty soon the turtles would be out on patrol. You headed to Donnie’s room to gather your stuff. Picking up your jacket, you were about to meet up so you could head with them to the surface. As you were turning to leave Donnie walked in. You smiled. “Be careful out there. I know you guys are ninja turtles and all but that doesn’t make you invincible. “ 

“I know, we will.” They kind of were invincible. Not because of the mutagen, but because they had each other. Whenever they fought you saw it. The unity. There was nothing stronger than their bond as brothers, even if they fought on the daily. 

Donnie was just standing there staring off into space. For a second you thought maybe you forgot something. When you looked over at the bed, you saw the goggles he usually had on. 

“Oh, you came for this.” you were about to pick it up and hand it to him. 

“I’m sorry.” You stopped looking at him confused. “W-What? Why are you apologizing?” 

He scratched his neck. “I always make things really awkward when I’m around you. Earlier I..I really wanted to kiss you. Sorry if Mikey made you uncomfortable.” you shook your head. Did he really think you would be mad for something like that. 

“Donnie come on we both know that Mikey lives to embarrass you. And you never have to apologize. If anything I should apologize. I know it’s a bit hard for you. You’re shy, but it’s cute. You don’t have to force yourself. I’m willing to go whatever pace you're comfortable with.” 

He was looking at you, processing your words. He was happy you understood that it wasn’t always easy for him to display how he felt. But he really hoped he could be bold. Just for you. 

“Maybe I should just go for it..” he couldn’t see the harm in trying. 

Your brows knitted when you saw his posture change. He looked a bit more sure of himself. Sort of  the way he was when stating facts, or battling enemies. 

“Would you..prefer it if I were more forward. “ 

“What…” it took you awhile to realize he was walking you backwards. You finally made contact with the wall. And the way that he was looking at you, it was really causing tingles to run through your body. 

“Donnie…” He leaned down, silencing your words, and you leaned in, pulling in a sharp breath through your nose at the sudden kiss. You were trapped between his body and the wall. And you were perfectly fine with that. His finger ran over the side of your neck, and you could feel goosebumps follow as he trailed down your shoulder, over your collar bone. His hand didn’t move any further. After a few more seconds of slow sensual kisses, Donnie pulled back. His breathing was slightly labored. Your brain was still trying to catch up with what happened, because those kisses left you partially speechless. 

“Wow…” you muttered. You were usually the one to initiate kisses. Due to his shy nature, you sort of got used to being the one making the move. Watching him take the lead, it was incredibly sexy. 

“Just when I thought he couldn’t get any hotter.” 

Boy were you wrong. He picked you up this time, arm hooking under your knees and you squeaked, right before your words were stolen once again by another kiss. 

You felt this one all the way to your core. You were thankful he was supporting you, because if you’d been standing, you would have caved in seconds. 

“His tongue is…” you moaned, tightening your hold. 

When did he learn to kiss so well? Was he holding back this entire time. The warmth of his skin and yours seemed one in the same now. You couldn’t tell if it was his heart hammering or yours. Your fingers drifted down to his chest, enjoying the ridges of his plastron. Everything about him was so firm and strong, far different from his tender personality. 

You hoped you could just stay there kissing forever. When he parted this time, you could tell there was a great deal of reluctance. Your breath came out shakily, trying to recover from both his surprise attacks. 

“I’ll work on it.” He spoke softly. You looked at him. “Y-You’re fine..” you stammered. If he was going to be any more forward, surely your poor heart wouldn’t make it. Donnie was satisfied with the look of bliss on your face. “She looks happy.” That was all he could really hope for. His head moved closer, and you were already leaning in for round three. You sighed this time. 

“Gosh...I could never get tired of kissing him.” 

If not for your need of oxygen, you’d probably never part. Donatello sat down on the bed, still holding you. With the change in location, you twisted in his arms. You were now straddling him. You pressed into him, and Donnie fell back softly on the bed, bouncing slightly from the springs. You giggled, and so did he. 

“I suppose I should really let you go. You know, keeping the city safe and all. “ You really didn’t want to. And Mikey would probably bust in the door and ruin the moment anyway. He raised his hand, brushing your cheek, and you leaned into the touch. 

“Kiss me.” Donnie whispered. 

His low tone struck something in you. You shudder, nodding as you reconnected your lips. His hand ran over your back, up your spine. You arched into him, a sultry sound escaping. You blushed, because that one was unexpected. Donnie just kept kissing you, slowly, lovingly. You were unsure how a kiss could be so hungry and tender at the same time. It was crazy. His hands were now on your thighs, the heat from his fingers travelling to every part of your body. 

When you parted this time your head rested on his chest. You closed your eyes to try and regain some semblance of control. Because right now, Donnie was ruining you in the most wonderful way. 

“I think..I can get used to this..” you mutter. Donnie smiled, still running his hand up and down your back. 

“Me too.” He replied.

[padfootagain]

Girl Crush (XXXI & Epilogue)

Chapter 31 & Epilogue: Lavender And A New Assistant

 Here we are… this is the last chapter…

I'm feeling so sad to have to say goodbye to this fic, but it is time. All that needed to be said has been said. So, farewell, Girl Crush. I promise, I will stop crying, eventually, just give me a few days…

Warning for… emotions. Lots of them. You're welcome!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think about it!

Word Count: 5042

Would you be listening?

Probably not. The lopsided smile that settled on his lips as the thought crossed his mind was bitter and painful.

Letting you go was far from an easy process. He wasn't making any progress for now, but eventually, he would. He had to.

He had given you the tickets for this show, but he didn't expect you to come. Maybe you had given the tickets to someone else, perhaps you had torn them apart as soon as he had walked out of your shop.

The show was recorded, would be retransmitted through some radio station, he had forgotten which one. He often forgot details of this kind these days. Yet he couldn't help but wonder… would you hear him anyway?

He checked his earpiece one more time, a few seconds before climbing on stage. He could hear the crowd chanting already. He had a job to do. And even if he wanted to cry, he had to go out there and act like everything was perfectly fine in his world, because it was his job to make the world for every single person in the room a better place for the next 25 minutes and he couldn't let them down.

He had 5 songs to perform. 4 of his and a cover. He would sing Sign of the Times again, because everyone was expecting him to. Then Lights Up, Watermelon Sugar and Adore You would be played as well. He would finish the show by covering Juice.

He took a deep breath, and it was time.

The shouts were deafening, and he felt the pain a little bit relieved for a while. There was so much love thrown at him, that for a moment, he wasn't hurting so much anymore. He lost himself in these songs he had written, and jumped around the stage, and smiled as the audience sang along the lyrics he had created.

He couldn't help but scan the crowd in search for you though. Whenever the lights were up, his eyes travelled across estranged faces in an attempt to spot your features. And he thought he had spotted you at least a dozen times by the end of Watermelon Sugar. He brushed some sweat out of his eyes, catching his breath, while he looked across the rows once more.

He thought he had spotted one of your scarves at one point, but he was wrong. A jacket that vaguely resembled one of yours had him squint his eyes for a while in an attempt to study the face of the person it belonged to.

He was catching his breath after dancing, almost ready to start Adore You. His heart was beating too fast, but it wasn't only because of his prancing across the stage.

She's not here. She didn't come. She won't come, ever again.

If he knew that this was the truth, it was only then that the realization sank in. You weren't going to come to any of his shows, never again would he see you jumping in the middle of the crowd, shouting along to verses he had created. You would probably never listen to him again. If music had been so important to him for so long, it seemed to lose a part of its substance. Part of the meaning behind singing left his heart as he realized that the woman he had written for, the woman he longed the most to be heard by, would never listen to anything he had created or would create again.

He hadn't noticed as the notes from his song fainted that he had grown silent and motionless on the stage, too lost in his thoughts.

He shook himself and shot a bright smile that didn't reach his eyes. He had to go on, he had to.

But he didn't want to sing Juice now. He didn't want to sing an upbeat song, no matter how much he loved the tune.

Because he felt like that was the moment when he had to say farewell to you, even if you wouldn’t hear him. And there was only one way he could accept what his life had to become now that you had stepped out of it.

He turned to his band, walked to Mitch in hurried steps that made his friend frown, and told him against his ear to play another song, before moving to Sarah, and the rest of the musicians playing behind him.

They had played that song so many times during their first tour, actually, every time you were in the audience and every time he missed you too much. He knew everyone would know the song. He wasn't worried about an imperfect rendition, it didn't really matter anyway. What mattered was that it was your song. This song that the two of you had danced on for the first time, this song that you kept on humming together randomly throughout lazy days spent walking together and chatting about everything and nothing, this song that had carried your first and only kiss…

It was you to him, on so many levels, may it be the meaning behind the lyrics or the memories you had created along the melody. In any case, it reminded him of you too much. He had to bid you farewell, and that meant saying goodbye to this song too.

The first notes of Girl Crush rose above the cheers of the crowd, and the shouts from the fans only intensified. But when he turned to them, Harry couldn't muster a smile this time.

He could hear, even with the first note he sang, that his voice was raspier than usual, shaky, filled with more emotion than what he could handle, and he knew the tears would soon follow his breaking voice. He didn't really care, though. Noticing the intense emotion that had suddenly drowned his powerful vocals, the crowd grew quiet, and listened intently while Harry's heart was completing its destruction.

With every word he let out, he could feel a crack breaking inside of him.

I got a girl crush

I hate to admit it but

I got a heart rush

It ain't slowing down

I got it real bad

Want everything she has

That smile and that midnight laugh

She's giving you now

He could feel the tear roll down his cheek as he closed his eyes, but didn't stop singing as his voice turned a little hoarser than it already was.

I want to taste her lips

Yeah, 'cause they taste like you

I want to drown myself

In a bottle of her perfume

I want her long blonde hair

I want her magic touch

Yeah, 'cause maybe then

You'd want me just as much

He missed the next verse, his throat too tight for him to let out a sound. He held onto the microphone and its stand for dear life, until it was actually painful and his fingers begged for release. But if his hands grew sore, the pain in his chest was so much worse that he barely noticed.

He opened his eyes again, letting his gaze wander through the silent crowd. He could read the questions on their faces, wondering why he was so upset by this song he had sung dozens of times before. He didn't care. He needed the distraction to go through the song. He needed to see your face painted on others' features, just to keep the illusion he hadn't lost you yet, even if for just a few seconds more.

Every woman with your eyes caught his attention. Every woman with similar hair. Or with a piece of clothing he thought could belong to you. His eyes lingered on them for a moment, repainting your features across their faces until he thought they were you, and then the image faded, the lights showed the real person staring back at him instead, and his attention moved on to erase the face of someone else in favour of your memory.

Until his eyes moved to another face, a few rows away from the stage, but as the seconds flew by, your face didn't waver. The sight didn't wane. Your features remained there. You were crying.

He squinted his eyes, while he got back to singing.

I don't get no sleep

I don't get no peace

Thinking about her

Under your bed sheets

And that's when he realized that… he wasn't imagining your face this time.

You were here.

You were standing there, in the middle of the row, with tears wetting your cheeks. He struggled to swallow back the lump that was climbing up his throat, turned his head to the side to sniffle, and kept on going, locking his eyes with yours.

The way that she's whispering

The way that she's pulling you in

Lord knows I've tried,

I can't get her off my mind

You gave him a smile and nodded your head, in that proud way you used to do whenever you looked at him perform.

What were you doing here? Were you bidding him farewell too?

If he was happy and relieved to see you, his mind swirled with questions, and you read them all in his green eyes, in the frown that creased his brow, in the way he turned fully to you.

What could you tell him? You couldn’t just blurt everything that had happened like that. In the middle of a crowd? Not a chance.

I want to taste her lips

Yeah, 'cause they taste like you

I want to drown myself

In a bottle of her perfume

Could you tell him that you had heard that interview? That you realized then that you were taking the wrong decision? That you weren't with Gareth anymore?

How could you tell him all that while he was performing in that kind of show?

I want her long blonde hair

I want her magic touch

He stared at you as you searched for a way to tell him, and it killed you to see the hope in his eyes as he kept singing. You knew that he meant the question he was asking, and that his words were meant for you.

Yeah, 'cause maybe then

You'd want me just as much

You nodded, and his voice broke on the next words he tried to utter.

He saw you moving your lips, but couldn't hear your voice. He didn't need to though, it was pretty easy to guess.

I'm sorry, Harry.

His answer had the form and sound of a large smile wet with tears turned from bitter to hopeful.

I got a girl crush

Hate to admit it but

I got a heart rush

It ain't slowing down

The music died out and the crowd cheered. Your neighbours were crying too, although they knew nothing about the exchange between you and Harry.

A few minutes more while he thanked the crowd and his band, and then he was walking off the stage. But before he did so, he asked one of the security guards something and pointed at you. With a quick gesture of his head, he invited you to join him, and you were quick to follow his lead. Meanwhile, another artist was climbing on stage and making the crowd cheer again. You didn't even notice who had replaced Harry under the lights, instead, you were crossing the sea of bodies to reach the security guard Harry had spoken to.

A moment later, and you were guided backstage and to Harry's dressing room.

He was already there, waiting for you. You both thanked the security guard, and Harry closed the door behind you. When you turned to him, he was staring at you.

And God, it was so good to see you…

He couldn't help but take you in, even if it wasn't in a sexual way. Just… looking at you standing there before him. It felt almost surreal. He was expecting to be pinched awake by Mitch any second now to urge him to the stage.

But he wasn't dreaming. You were here…

When his eyes rose to meet yours, your heart stopped beating altogether.

"Hi," he breathed, his voice deeper than usual and barely a whisper.

"Hi," you answered with a shy smile, nervously twisting your hands together. "You were great. On stage, I mean…"

"Thanks. I… I have to admit that I didn't think you'd be here. Did you come alone?"

"Yeah… yeah, I came alone. I gave the other ticket to one of my clients, who was apparently a fan of yours."

"I… I'm really happy you came. I'm happy to see you."

"I'm happy to see you too. I've missed you."

The confession made you both look away, trying to hide the tears that started to form at the corner of your eyes.

"How are you?" you asked, and you tried to add something else, but the words dissolved on your tongue as your voice refused to come out.

"I'm not great, to be honest."

His answer forced you to look up at him once more. He shrugged.

"I miss you," he went on. "It sucks, but I miss you. I miss you so much…"

"I'm sorry. I never meant to make it all so hard. I just… I thought…"

"I know. I know."

"Things have changed, though."

He nodded, taking in a shaky breath. The atmosphere was tensed and heavy, and filled with an awkward kind of fear.

And Harry was cradling this crazy hope still, and he just wished that he had understood the signs you gave him in the crowd right.

"Gareth?" he asked in a breath. He only had enough strength to speak out a name instead of a whole question.

"I… realized that I was making a mistake," you answered with a shaky voice, brushing your tears away before they could fall.

"So… are you two…?"

"We broke up, yeah."

Harry couldn't refrain a smile, before he thought better of it, and sheepishly looked down at his feet.

"Sorry, I didn't mean… I'm sorry."

"It's alright."

"When did you two break up?"

"A couple of weeks ago. I've been staying at Jas' since."

"And then you came."

You nodded, and he looked up to stare at you once more.

"I… I kept on thinking about you and then… you came to the shop," you tried to explain, although your uncontrollable emotions were making a mess of both your voice and thoughts. "And I… I heard that interview you did with Howard Stern and… And I knew you were talking about me. About us. And it hurt so much…"

Your voice broke, and you needed a minute to gather yourself, putting the pieces back together to gather enough strength to go on and dry your cheeks on your sleeve. Harry didn't push you, waiting patiently for you to say whatever else you had to say.

"I… I listened to your album. To the one you gave me. Harry… Did you mean it? That note you left? Did you mean it?"

He gave you a sad smile, a few tears rolling down his cheeks too.

"Couldn't you tell? When you listened to the songs, couldn't you tell? They were all about you. They've always been about you. It's always been you, Y/N."

He wrapped his arms around you as you covered your mouth to shush your sob.

"Hey, stop that. You've already started to make me cry, and I won't stop till you do," he admonished.

And you were in his arms, pressed against his chest, and your face resting against his neck, his hand secured behind your head and gently stroking your hair, and his arm across your back.

You realized that this was what it felt like to come home.

You held onto him for dear life, afraid he would be the one walking away for good this time.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I fucked up. I fucked so bad. I should have never stayed with Gareth. After that night, I should have left him. I'm so sorry."

He closed his eyes, resting his lips against the top of your head.

"It's alright. I knew you'd react like that. That's why I didn't tell you anything for so long."

"Do you… Do you think that you could ever forgive me?"

He let out a chuckle, and for the first time of the night, the smile that formed on his lips climbed all the way up to his eyes.

"I could never refuse you anything, anyway," he mumbled against your hair. "Besides, I fucked up too. You weren't single, it wasn't fair of me to kiss you the way I did."

There was a moment of silence in the tiny room. In the mirror set against the wall, your two shapes were too intertwined, it seemed, to ever be separated. Harry's clothes were thrown on the back of a chair in a corner. The light was a little dim, yellowish hues tainting the shade that should have been white.

And for a moment, you simply both enjoyed your embrace, using the silence that settled between the two of you to calm down and finally stop crying.

"What do we do now?" he asked at last, in a shy voice, afraid of your answer.

"I mean… I would understand if you were mad at me."

He smiled again.

"I think we've both fucked up these past few months. I'm not mad. I was never mad. Just sad."

"I never want you to be sad ever again."

"Well, then… tell me something."

"Whatever you want."

"Tell me why you're here. Tell me why you came back. Just… tell me why…"

You looked up at him, running a hand through his hair, his eyes a little puffy and reddened but still just as beautiful as the image of them that came back in your dreams.

"I came because I was wrong. And I… I wasn't happy at all without you. And I… I'm sorry. I should have chosen you. I should have chosen you, because…"

It was strange to finally let the words out, when you had spent so long hiding them even to yourself. And yet, now that you stared at him, in his arms, they seemed so easy to confess and admit. It was the easiest, more natural thing in the world now.

"Because I'm in love with you. And I… I could never love him the way that I love you."

You gave him a sad smile, your voice shaky, but forcing the words out anyway, because you needed to finally speak them out loud. They had remained unspoken for way too long.

"I came because I love you. And I realized that I had made a terrible mistake, and I was hoping that… maybe you'd give me a second chance. What do you think?"

His lips cracked into a grin that dug dimples into his cheeks, despite the tears that were back to make his eyes shine.

"I think… I think that I'd really like to take you on a date tomorrow night. I know the perfect place. Would you like that?"

You were quick to nod in agreement, before letting out a breathy laugh, looking up at him again.

"You sang our song," you whispered, your voice still betraying your emotions.

"Our song?" he asked in a playful tone, despite the way his eyes shone in the dim yellowish light.

"Don't get cocky now," you chuckled.

"By the way, I know a place that's gonna be much better for you than Jasmine's tiny apartment."

"Really?"

"You could stay with me instead."

"Ever heard about taking things slow?"

"I don't mean… as a permanent thing," he mocked. "I just mean… while you find a new place to stay. Even if, I wouldn't be against the idea of you never leaving."

You shook your head, but there was such a tenderness in your eyes as you looked at him.

"What? Too fast?" he asked again, a playful expression on his face now.

"I don't know," you answered earnestly.

"That was way too fast. Are you crazy? That was a test! You haven't even treated me with a first date, woman!"

You couldn't refrain your laughter this time, and neither could he.

You were thinking about something more to say when he shushed you, his lips crashing against yours and kissing you as if he couldn't stop himself any longer.

But it was over after just a few seconds, and he pulled away enough to look questioningly at you. He looked afraid again as he stared into your eyes. He bit down on his lower lip, hesitating.

"Sorry. Was that o…?"

It was your turn to cut him off by kissing him, and this time, he didn't pull away. Instead you kept on kissing for a long time, his arm wrapping itself around your waist to pull you closer as his right hand came to cup your face, your own fingers finding their place in his hair and on his shoulder. And it was finally time for you to admit that you had been dreaming about this.

But then the door opened on Mitch and Jeffrey, and you made a movement to pull away, but Harry tightened his hold on you, as he had clearly no intention to stop kissing you for a while. His friends jokingly whistled and acted shocked, to which Harry replied by shooting them a middle-finger while still kissing you senseless.

And as you giggled against each other's lips, you knew you had made the right choice, and Harry was certain that everything would be alright now that he could hold you again.

Epilogue

5 years later

 "Okay, I have to admit that I never thought that I would ever say that but… Harry, you have to stop kissing me, now."

He looked up at you, detaching his lips from your neck, and gave you a dramatic falsely-outraged face.

"What? No kisses? Okay then," he took a step back, breaking his embrace and raising up his hands in the air, making you roll your eyes.

"I have work to do. You said you would help me in the shop today, and so far the only thing you've been doing is stealing kisses as soon as the shop is empty!"

"Oh, sorry… I thought that the point of spending my day off helping my wife in her shop was to spend time with her, but okay… okay…" he replied with a cheeky expression painted all over his face, being his usual annoyingly-charming self. "Then, I'll just work. Here again, you're using our relationship just to get me to work for free! Have you forgotten who painted these walls? Huh? Cause I haven't!"

"Are you saying that I owe you from then? It was five years ago!"

"A debt is a debt," he replied, struggling to hold back his smile, the corners of his lips twitching upwards.

The little shit. You loved him so much.

"You know… I think you're right. So let's settle it for good."

He only had time to raise an eyebrow before your lips were on his, and you were kissing him softly.

How did you find yourself with your back pressed against the counter, you weren't sure, all you could really focus on was the way Harry was kissing you and holding you tightly against him: perfect, as always.

When you finally broke away, your eyelids fluttering open, Harry was drawing a strangled breath and had kept his eyes closed for now.

"Alright, that sounds fair enough," he nodded, resting his forehead against yours.

"So… you're gonna keep on working for me for free? Can I pay you in kisses instead?"

"That seems like a nice currency, we should use it more often."

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck to draw him even closer.

Five years… you could barely believe it had been five years already since you changed the nature of your relationship from friendship to being lovers. At the thought, your thumb traced the golden wedding band around your finger. For almost two years now, it had secured its place on your hand, and you had no doubt it would stay there for the rest of your life…

"But, you know what? I think that only pays for the paint. It doesn't cover all these afternoons I've spent here, helping you out making bouquets and carrying very heavy things."

You couldn't help but laughing at his silliness, which only broadened his smile.

"Very heavy things, huh?"

He nodded, a low humming noise escaping his lungs and sending shivers all the way up your spine.

"Very, very heavy. Very hard work right there."

"That deserves another kiss then."

"Maybe even two… or three…. Or four…" he bargained.

You laughed again, but then, it was a noise that rang a lot across your shop whenever Harry was there.

"Stop bargaining! Two is my final word."

"Three."

"Two."

"Three," he pouted, and God, how could you ever resist this man…

"Alright, three it is."

He brushed his nose against yours, his fingers tracing a line down your jaw, and you couldn't help but lean into his touch.

Five years, and he still made you feel the same.

An album and two full tours later, and he still never felt happier than when he opened his eyes in the morning to find you by his side in his bed.

He kissed you again, loving and passionate, and making you melt in his arms as if your knees had given way under your weight all of a sudden.

And you both knew perfectly well that none of you could ever grow tired of kissing the other.

It just felt right. Harry always explained it by 'you feel like coming home after spending years looking for a way back', and you reckoned that it was a pretty good description of how you felt like every time he held your hand, every time he kissed you, every time he wrapped his arms around you…

You only had to look at him for him to feel this way, like he was exactly where he had always belonged.

And of course, everything hadn't always been easy during these shared five years. But at the end of the day, he always chose to love you, and you always chose to love him.

When he broke away, breathless, lungs screaming for air and hand unsteady in your hair, the both of you had a pair of grins plastered on your faces, looking like two lovestruck fools.

But then, you were lovestruck fools…

"One," he counted.

Almost two years of marriage and his heart still skipped a beat every time he called you his wife.

22 months of being married and you still never felt safer than when you were in his arms, head resting against his shoulder and breathing in his scent.

When he took your hand and started to slowly sway, all you could do was lean in the movement and smile. You let him softly guide you into a slow dance as he rested his cheek against yours, both of you closing your eyes.

A low humming sound soon joined in, and you were not surprised to recognize the tune of Girl Crush.

It was your song, after all.

You danced for a while like this, lost in the sweet scent of all the flowers gathered in your shop, with the warm Californian sun coming in by the windows, with no one around to see the intimate moment except for your plants.

It was such a nice feeling to be absolutely complete. There was nothing else that you desired. Nothing of real value at least. You had your shop, you had Harry, you were dancing with your husband, and you reckoned that it had to be the definition of 'perfect' to you.

"I love you, Harry," you let out in a breath, without properly thinking the words through, barely noticing at all that they were leaving your lips.

He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, still humming. He only interrupted the melody to whisper in your ear his reply.

"I love you too, darling."

Your thumb traced his wedding ring, a mindless movement that always made you smile even if you weren't fully conscious that you were doing it.

He dropped a peck to your lips, and you chuckled.

"Two."

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head but unable to refrain an amused smile.

"That was not a kiss. That was a peck," he argued.

"A peck is a form of kissing. You've just wasted one of your kisses."

He burst into laughter.

"No, that doesn't count. I'm gonna show you what a real kiss is…"

You couldn't refrain a small gasp in expectation as you saw him leaning towards your lips, but the bell of the front door rang, freezing both of you with lips only an inch apart.

You heaved a sigh, while he seemed annoyed to have been interrupted.

You gently pushed him away anyway, and shot your customer a bright smile.

"Hello, ma'am!" you chimed. "I'm going to let my assistant here help you, okay?"

Harry raised an eyebrow and let out a shocked gasp.

"Excuse me?!" he breathed, clearly unable to believe what you were saying. "Assistant?!"

"Yes, you're my assistant. I'm the boss here, remember? That's my shop!" you teased him, struggling to not burst into laughter yet.

Harry turned to the middle-aged woman who had walked inside the shop.

"Can you believe that? I'm her assistant now!"

"Actually, you're not even hired here, my love," you replied, walking behind the counter to work on a new bouquet. "So, I reckon that calling you assistant is already a lot."

He let an outraged puff of hair, mumbling under his breath his next words so that you would be the only one to hear him.

"Wait until we're alone tonight, and I'll show you if I'm just an assistant."

You chocked on your own breath, feeling butterflies fly across your stomach, while your heart seemed to be stopping altogether.

He walked to the customer instead, still shaking his head.

"The audacity that woman has… An assistant?!"

 *****************************************************

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