#words don’t suffice to tell you how much i adore his music

[serenade361k]

Johann Sebastian Bach playing organ in various occasions, sources unknown (at least to me)

Happy Birthday, Maestro 🤍

[morifinwes]

wangxian fic rec list!

aka in which i read fics, write some recs down for aamna and share them!! they're all wangxian fics and uhh @yibobibo i hope you'll like them!!

modern

wolf devours playboy bunny by @greenteafiend (5K, werewolf!lwj, getting together, idk if anyone needs to know that but there's nudity just not uhh explicit)

Lan Zhan has wanted Wei Ying as long as he has known him, and the worst part is that he thinks Wei Ying could want him back.

Too bad he could never in good conscience let himself go there—Wei Ying has a debilitating fear of all things canine, and once a month, Lan Zhan is the exact, precise thing that Wei Ying’s nightmares are made of.

Aka, Lan Zhan is a werewolf.

between the lines by @jywait (19K gaming au!!!, i'm always down for a good gaming au, lwj is the best aksks he's such a good boy)

☆yilingpatriarch☆: pls...give me some face, help me fight these monsters...I'm gonna die

Bluetooth: no.

"You have died." The screen said, and Wei Wuxian threw his hands up in frustration.

resonant frequencies by chinxe (15K, college au, fake dating au, tw mention of cheating but it's brief and no one was cheated on i promise)

In which Wei Wuxian decides that the best way to deal with being in love with Lan Wangji is to pretend to date him for three weeks.

It goes about as well as can be expected.

drift compatible by windoworwhatever (5K, poetry, fluff, drunkji, getting together, college au)

"It was just a fact of life. The sky was blue, university stipends for graduate students working in TA positions barely covered rent, bisexuals cuffed their jeans, Lan Wangji had a massive crush on Wei Wuxian, and spent his time pining and writing research papers about gay subtexts in ancient poetry."

OR

Lan Wangji is in love with Wei Wuxian, and everybody knows, except Wei Wuxian.

the bunny next door by detailsinthefabric (43K, this is mostly fluff and very light angst, and they were neighbors!!!, rabbits!!, aka wangxian's bunny children, this is... so cute i just have to rec it)

Lan Wangji did not know what he was doing. He did not know what he was going to say. He was frozen in place, puzzling over the situation. Maybe he had made the man uncomfortable, which is why he wanted to leave? But his tone had still been so friendly—maybe…

“Would…” he paused, swallowed, forced the last words to come out of his suddenly parched mouth, “would you let me pet him?”

-------------------------------------

Lan Wangji, who doesn't know how to socialize and whose icy demeanor scares everyone away, lets down all his defenses when he meets the bunny next door...oh, and also its owner, Wei Wuxian.

leading tone by silencemostofall (32K, everyone is a music student? or something like that akskk, curse fic, tw panic attacks, tw child abuse, small scene of drunkji, wwx has low self esteem, bro this was so painful to read)

The first time you touch someone you're fated to love, you leave a mark on their skin. If they will love you in return, they'll mark you where you touched them. The deeper the color, the deeper the connection.

Wei Ying has no marks at all.

public places, private thoughts by leahelisabeth (for the love of camelot) ( 8K, cherry magic au, getting together with like... immediate upgrade to fiance status, the author is wrong i crave good wangxian cherry magic aus even tho i haven't even watched cherry magic)

Wei Wuxian had heard the story of course. It had made its rounds through his high school and followed him into his college days. He didn’t think there was any possibility it was true. Virginity was a social construct, invented by creepy old men to exercise dominance over women. The idea that a simple lack of sexual activity before the age of thirty could give one magical powers was absolutely ludicrous.

Wei Wuxian believed this until the morning of his thirtieth birthday.

AKA the Wangxian Cherry Magic AU that absolutely nobody asked for.

i'd be all right (if i could see you) by @thirtysixsavefiles (16K, this was nice, i read this at 6am but it was cute, (while writing this post i must admit i don't remember anything but 6am-me said it's good))

The younger Lan brother is something of an enigma on campus; while Lan Xichen can sometimes be seen in the company of other graduate students or conducting a seminar, Lan Wangji appears to spend all his time in class or in the library. He doesn’t drink. He doesn’t smoke. He doesn’t attend social events. He doesn’t do anything for fun, as far as Wei Wuxian can tell, and it’s driving Wei Wuxian just a little bit up the wall.

Or, Wei Wuxian convinces Lan Wangji to come to a house party, and then they're assigned to the same group project. Wei Wuxian tries his best, but he is not in possession of all the facts.

axe on leg by itszero (4K, i still don't get why wwx did that but it was nice seeing him jealous for once, jealous!wwx, lwj i love you....)

Wei Wuxian pressed his face into his pillow and screamed. He paused to take a few deep breaths, partially hindered by the pillow, and listened to the sounds of Nie Huaisang slurping his iced coffee, from his seat on Wei Wuxian's desk chair.

Having caught his breath, he resumed his screaming and did not stop at the sound of his dorm room door opening.

"What's wrong with him?" He heard his brother, Jiang Cheng, ask.

The slurping stopped. "He's an idiot."

"He's always been an idiot. Why is he bothered about it now?"

"He forced Lan Wangji to go on a date," Nie Huaisang replied, shaking the ice cubes in his drink.

"Okay and…?"

"With someone else." The slurping resumed.

Wei Wuxian, in all his glorious dumbassery, convinces his boyfriend to go on a date with someone else.

these two most powerful by @stiltonbasket (4K, amnesia, wangxian with children!!!, aksksk this was adorable, dadji!!)

When Lan Wangji went to bed last night, he was alone in a tiny guest room with nothing but the howling of the wind in the mountains and his own lonely thoughts for company.

 

But when he opened his eyes in the morning, Wei Ying was asleep beside him.

 

(In which Lan Wangji loses twenty years' worth of memories after a night-hunt gone wrong, and his life as a doting father and husband continues without a hitch somehow.)

good things come to those who wait [but i ain't in a patient phase] by @cerlunas (4K, getting together, pining lwj)

Lan Wangji can't take it anymore.

 

“I love you”, he says, and god, it feels terrifying. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time.”

“Lan Zhan…” Wei Wuxian starts, but Lan Wangji doesn’t want to hear it.

He grabs his cup and drinks everything. He doesn’t know what face Wei Wuxian is making at him right now, and it’s okay. 

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian repeats louder, but it’s too late. He is already falling asleep.

Or, even after 13 years, Lan Wangji is still in love with his best friend. Maybe it's time to open up.

wei ying, will you marry m- oh my god he swallowed the ring! by selene210 (2K, marriage proposals, crack, marriage proposals but.. they go wrong)

“A ring?”

And indeed it was. The ring Lan Wangji was going to propose to Wei Ying with. That the man had now choked on.

“You swallowed it.”

“It was in my soufflé! Why did you put a ring in my soufflé Lan Zhan- oh. oh”

of glittery valentine's cards by @soft-fics (3K, valentine's day, this was adorable aksk, a-yuan best boy!!)

Lan Zhan didn't want to know what his best friend had planned for Valentine's Day; his heart would simply not be able to handle it. When his son tells him that he made Wei Ying a Valentine's Day card, though, Lan Zhan decided to bring it over anyway.

of coffee and white tea by @soft-fics (9K, fluff, lwj doesn't like coffee, wwx buys him coffee, then they switch drinks, again and again and again, the staff ships it lmao, tbh jc shouldn't have done that like wtf)

For the fourth time this week a stranger orders him a cup of coffee. Lan Wangji wonders how exactly to tell this man to stop ordering him coffee he doesn't even like. Turns out, buying the other white tea and switching drinks is not the best way to go about it

canon setting

on the importance of restraint (or lack thereof) by nixthothou (4K, in which sizhui snaps, i love that boy, no like seriously he's the best boy)

Lan Sizhui does not usually find himself in the company of Sect Leader Jiang.

Suffice to say, Lan Sizhui's feelings toward him are conflicted.

lan wangji is wei wuxian's baby by lilycs (3K, i was craving fluff while reading this, lwj my beloved, drunk!lwj)

Lan Wangji gets drunk from barely a cup of alcohol, becoming a whiny baby and asking his husband for cuddles.

one of our own by glitteringmoonlight (8K, wei wuxian & lan sect, 5+1 things, in which they learn to love him, they're all part of the wwx protection squad lead by lwj, wangxian isn't the focus but !!! THIS)

Times change, but some people remain the same.

The Lans are nothing, if not aware of this.

For one of their own, they will stand against the world.

Or, 5 times the Lans defended Wei Wuxian, and the 1 time he was there to see it happen.

so why not crack your skull when the mind swells by @greenteafiend (13K, love curse, post cql canon, curses, getting together, fluff, so much fluff, lwj tries to talk about his emotions!, lwj pov)

Lan Wangji detects the curse trying to curl through his heart meridians like smoke. A love curse, then. It must have been cast remotely somehow to have found him in his bed in Cloud Recesses. No matter. Lan Wangji crushes it easily, enveloping it in his spiritual energy, and then squeezing. Curse averted, Lan Wangji closes his eyes and goes back to sleep. He thinks no more of it.

Two days later, Wei Wuxian arrives in Cloud Recesses.

Or, Wei Wuxian is cursed to feel terrible pain when he and Lan Wangji aren’t touching.

i started from the bottom / now i'm rich by x_los (57K, time travel, fix it, jealous lwj, crack treated serious, god this is so good tho, wwx/wrh & wwx/jgs but like as a joke and it doesn't really happen, but it has its purpose!!)

“First, you get the money. Then you get the power, respect - hos come last.”

 

Wen Qing traps Wei Wuxian in the Demon Slaughtering Cave, but Wei Wuxian isn’t interested in being the beneficiary of the Wen Remnants’ noble sacrifice. His efforts to free himself accidentally send him back to the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign. Coreless but armed with demonic cultivation, knowledge of the future and his wits, Wei Wuxian takes advantage of this opportunity to come out on top of both the war and its aftermath—before either has a chance to happen—by marrying and swiftly burying the cultivation world’s worst men.

Lan Wangji is confused, hurt, and uncomfortably aroused by Wei Wuxian’s improbably elaborate series of Sect-themed bridal negligees.

lead me on through by mrsronweasley (55K, they're in love your honor, arranged marriage but they don't know to whom, basically wwx & lwj want to practice kissing which then goes beyond kissing but not the whole way y'know, lxc the best wingman tho)

"Who do you think your betrothed is?" Wei Wuxian asks, sprawling out in front of Lan Zhan and enjoying the prim thinning of his lips at the question. He shouldn't be sprawling—they're in the library, for one, and Lan Zhan is studying, for another—but he can't help himself. Wei Wuxian is a sprawler.

"I do not believe this to be of importance," Lan Zhan responds, without turning his gaze away from his book.

"What!" Wei Wuxian sits up. "How can you say that? Of course it's important! This is the person you'll be with for the rest of your life, Lan Zhan."

[kissesandcream]

a smol sibling.,

w/ xiao, kaeya, & venti

— • request from anon : being the trio’s younger sibling! (separately)

xiao p1 || kaeya p1 || gn ! sibling ! reader || headcanon format || 1.5k words

; masterlist.,

; a / n - i’ve done xiao and kaeya before, but i had some more ideas so i’m making some more! links above if you’d like to read the others <3

xiao .,

• the other hcs i made for him where general, but here anon specified a younger sibling, so i’ll do that!

• he’s that sibling who’ll pretend ur the most annoying thing on the planet but would do anything for u so much as you ask

• “xiao when u come back could i have some glaze lilies” “get them yourself im the vigilant yaksha not a flower picker🙄” mhm then why did u literally wipe out qingce village’s flower population hm xiao 🤨

• teaches u how to fight!! but he’s not teaching he’s “helping you discover things yourself so you can be a functional person”

• it takes way too much effort to get this man to admit he loves you but you know it as much as he does so it’s okay <3

• cloud retainer has so much dirt on him it’s crazy. if you ever need some blackmail material head over to hers. also you can find some embarassing pictures she’s got a heckton

• verr goldet takes care of u a lot too, xiao’s a great brother and all but he lacks in this department called self care

• idk if you’re mortal or adeptus or half adeptus but if you need to eat and do basic body functions he does not got u covered

• mans would try to raise u on almond tofu until verr goldet bought out a food pyramid and explained about these things called nutrients 

• he also doesn’t understand how important sleep is so,,, “xiao i’m gonna stay up” “yeah sure whatever” passing out two days later “y/N WHAT’S WRONG-”

• yeah verr goldet and the innkeeper guy give him a guide to basic survival talk and all through it he’s glaring at you like why did you never tell me you needed human things to live >:( 

• now that he knows you need sleep, he makes u sleep at 8 pm every night like a grandpa!! good luck trying to get him to stop!!

• are these getting too guardian-like and less sibling-like??? 😭 but that’s the vibes he gives yk!! ur over protective adeptus parent-brother who has no clue how u work but wants to try to understand a little

• in the game u can tell how much more open he gets wit the traveller as friendship levels progress, and if you’ve maxed it out he’d basically do anything for you and would want you to trouble him than yourself

• and he’ll probably be closer with you than he’ll ever be with traveller since you’re siblings and whatnot, so it would make sense that he looks out for you more than your typical older brother yk

• plays the flute for you!! if he hears u humming a tune under your breath he’ll find it and learn it to play for u 

• he may not fully understand how relationships work but he’s trying his best for u <3

 kaeya .,

• my other kaeya hcs were in relation to you being close / living with diluc, but these will be more general and central towards kaeya!

• kaeya fits literally every older brother trope that exists. the brother who’s always got ur back? you got it. the brother who keeps secrets you don’t know about from you? heck yeah. the annoying brother who makes u do his chores for him? maybe a little too much.

• pls he (lovingly) shoves all of his small tasks onto u it’s infuriating but you can’t even say no bc then he gets all dramatic 

• “y/n 😩 you’re abandonning your dear brother like this 😩 how could you 😩 i didn’t know you were so cruel 😩” sir shut up <3

• since he’s a people person everyone knows u very well too, heck all the senior citizens probably voted u as second best in law after him or smth idk man 

• hanging out with best boy bennett!! he canonically sees kaeya as an older brother too so y’all def go on little adventures together <3

• ur one of the only people who have ever looked under his eyepatch, diluc and crepus being the only other two

• sometimes he forgets to take it off when he goes to bed and it leaves a bruise bc it’s pretty tight, so he let’s you change it for him 

• “i can do this myself, you know” well he can but you both know he likes it better when you’re there

• does not allow your closet to be anything less than exquisite, you’ve got a bunch of scarfs like his whether you like it for not

• makes u buy his wine from diluc for him bc every time he goes to the tavern diluc raises the price tenfold just for him

• he’s that sibling who will rile you up on purpose just for the fun of it. i have a cousin who used to do that when he was younger and it was annoying but he still adores me sm so i don’t mind <3

• besides even if he does get on ur nerves amber’s got ur back- you can rant to her about him for hours on end and she’ll add with her experiences with kaeya’s bullying

• what are siblings if not for sibling rivalry, yes he picks on u constantly but he also picks u up when you’re feeling low <3

venti .,

• oh my gods he would be sO FUN

• the two of you are the bane of diluc’s existence, venti loops u into his winery pilfering plans a lot 

• venti pulls the archon card if the two of you get caught by him idk what excuse you’ve got but it better be good 😭

• no way the god of wind and song’s sibling doesn’t love music- even if you’re tone deaf, or hard of hearing, music is about the pleasure it brings and he’ll bring it to you

• you guys go wind gliding a lot of the time too!! y’all don’t even need gliders you’ve got the power of anemo 😎

• he’s that cool brother who’s only rule is that you do whatever you want to do, life is too short for regrets so live in the moment and be spontaneous!

• even though he’s older he seems much younger than you at heart 😭 will wine if you don’t do something for him it’s hilarious

• you’ve got other things to do and he’s just “but hanging out!!!” and ur like “but work!!!” 

• it’s very hard to be productive with him around, he will distract u with something as mundane as an apple- it’s not his fault tho bb just has a poor attention span 😭 

• he’s very clingy, if you’re together he’ll link your elbows like everyone did in sixth grade, and in turn u can kick him in the kneecaps when he does stupid things

• he’s the ceo of stupid things so u get to kick him a lot, it’s a mutal symbiotic relationship we love to see it <33

• my brain is dead and i can’t english rn but. his vibes yk he’s so fun to be around, he gives out surprisingly killer advice too

• i have this man’s teapot lines plastered on my wall bc they help me deal with stuff, so if you’re ever down you can always, always, always go to him and he’ll have the exact things to say

• if it’s words, he has them, if it’s silence you need he’ll lend you his shoulder; but there was never an instance he doesn’t leave you better than before

• you haven’t seen his archon side a lot, since he doesn’t show it all that much, but it’s so far from venti it’s a little scary; but in a sort of admiring way yk

• you guys visit zhongli sometimes, and it’s a free real estate for blackmail material bc of how terrified venti is of him

• zhongli is like that long lost uncle who visits once a year, and you’re his favorite child so he gives you candy and picks on venti for not taking good enough care of you

• “i’m their sibling not their parent” “you’re older have some responsibility >:(”

• if you ever get drunk he will hear about it and will come all the way from liyue to i will have order venti’s head, regardless of whether he was the cause of you being drunk or not

• that about wraps it up! im sure i could think of more but my brain is sorta dead rn so this will have to suffice 😭 i can’t think of a closing statement sO i hope u enjoyed!! bye bye!! <3

[ataraxiies]

✶⋆｡˚☆ﾟ✦ heartwarming things hq boys do pt. 2

▐ part one▐ part two▐ part three 

synopsis: mini headcanons that show how the hq boys are total sweethearts for their s/o

★˚｡ — ⌇ characters: bokuto koutarou, meian shugo, matsukawa issei, ushijima wakatoshi, osamu miya, aone takanobu

★˚｡ — ⌇ genre: fluff

★˚｡ — ⌇ warnings: n/a

★˚｡ — ⌇ author’s note: i just had to do part two because all hq boys can be sweethearts! 🙈 thank you to the anon for the chara suggestions~ also, bear with me, ik part two/sequels are never as good as part one/the original one. ╥﹏╥

✶▐ bokuto koutarou ↝ this precious boy is such a goofball at heart, but like such an emotionally intelligent goofball who will love you like a puppy would? right? he’s definitely the type to dance with you in the kitchen without a care in the world. and you better believe that it becomes somewhat of a ritual for you and him to have these impromptu “dance parties”. with the music blasting and him twirling you, all the while grinning & letting out laughs of unadulterated joy, he never fails to treat you like his number one & draw out your own silly side. if your neighbors complain, no worries; bokuto handles it so well to the point you don’t have to be self-conscious of you two enjoying each other’s company!

✶▐ meian shugo ↝ being 6′5 (196 cm), it’s an unfortunate fact not much will accommodate meian’s size, and so, pajamas and even blankets end up being kind of small or short on him. but then- enter you, the perfect size for him to forever act as a cuddle monster towards ! as someone who probably lives for snuggles, meian will wrap his large arms around you and hold you snugly against his body for much needed warmth. and honestly, he will do this whenever you two sleep . . . but ! if you even give the slightest indication you want soft cuddles now and not later, meian will pounce you (not literally ofc) & give you all the cuddles you need within a heartbeat. just being so close with you makes him so happy, he just doesn’t have the words for it, and he genuinely hopes that applies to you, too.

✶▐ matsukawa issei ↝ there is not a shadow of doubt in my mind when i say matsukawa issei’s the type who pokes and tickles you when he senses you’re even a little bit upset or annoyed. even if you flash him the biggest unamused scowl, he just wears this unreadable look as he once again pokes your side, attempting to tickle your irritability out of you. like, he just wants you to crack a smile for him, doll. though, it’s kind of surreal how very patient matsukawa is with you?? you’ll catch on rather quickly that not much can truly faze him, and if there’s one thing you should really know, it’s he will always be there for you even if you’re at your lowest and or your worst.

✶▐ ushijima wakatoshi ↝ ushijima. really. enjoys. just. booping. your. nose. and he can’t really explain it?? just something about you just makes him want to do so. he’s not a very touchy-feely kind of guy, but he truly does relish in the pleasant feeling he gets when you tilt your head & shoot him a puzzled look due to wondering what prompted him to boop your nose out of the blue. he cracks a small smile just thinking of that curious expression you wear; you’re just too adorable for him, and he makes a mental note to tell that to you soon. anyway- in all honesty, him booping your nose is simply one of his habits he picks up on as your boyfriend- call it a small gesture of affection if you will.

✶▐ osamu miya ↝ i am convinced osamu is as touch-starved as his twin brother if not more so. and in this conclusion, osamu has this natural penchant of pulling you onto his lap, and simply wrapping his arms around you securely and protectively. he’ll gently lay his head on your shoulder as he essentially recharges with you being in such close proximity to him. honestly, this happens at the most random of times, and he doesn’t offer you much of an explanation either?? it just clicks in his mind that you and him need to recharge cuddle now. so, he just pulls you into that position, and only then does he let out a soft sigh as he melts into your touch. it honestly becomes one of your go-to cuddle positions, and you can’t help but love your childish boyfie, who truly just wants your affection.

✶▐ aone takanobu ↝ aone is excessively gentle with you. unlike with how he is with his teammates, he’s constantly worried about hurting you unintentionally. you’re just so precious to him that he wouldn’t forgive himself if he did that to you. and so, you find that even in his most protective & perhaps even needy hugs, he holds back his strength because he just can’t bear to think he could end up crushing you in such a simple act of affection, such as a hug! it’s gotten to the point that it if you two hold hands, you barely feel his warmth because he’s so worried about underestimating his strength. suffice to say, it may take awhile for you to fully convince him you’re not as fragile as he may think, but at least his thoughtfulness for you is endearing!

[clefairymuke]

oiiii i have a request for a oneshot or maybe something fun to add to your regrets fic (whatever you find better) I think it would be funny a reader x the scouts drunk and levi finding them and being all cute taking care of reader :3

thank you for this request!! sorry for how long it took, but it managed to pull me out of some writers block that’s been kicking my ass lately. thank you for suggesting it and reading!

as always, much love! <3

-----------------------------------------------------------

Red Wine | Levi x Reader

pairing: levi x reader

themes: fluff

tw: swearing, alcohol use

word count: 2511

True fun and relaxation is not something you typically experience.

Of course, when you signed up for this whole Scout Regiment thing, you weren’t expecting nights out in bars and plush queen-sized beds with wool blankets. You expected exactly what you got: exhausting days and mostly sleepless nights, demanding grief and waking nightmares. One thing you hadn’t expected, however, was how stale it would get. These thoughts are why you ended up where you are now: propped lazily against a wall surrounded by your friends, loud laughs bubbling freely from your ever-smiling mouth, and a bottle of wine in hand.

While the “why” is clear to you, the “how” is a bit more cloudy. Around the complete euphoria in your head stands a thick fog blocking your memory — that, or the fact that your drunkenly dwindling attention span can no longer support a thought lasting more than a second or two. All you know is that you’re here now, and you’re having the time of your life. Your eyes and ears skirt past Eren and Jean arguing without stopping to listen in as you pass the bottle to Mikasa.

For once, you aren’t thinking about how Levi could make this experience better. Although you love being in the company of your boyfriend, you can’t help but imagine his disdain if he were to witness your situation. You can almost feel the ferocity of his razor sharp-glare creeping up your spine as you picture it within your mind.

You lay your head back on the concrete wall that keeps you upright and close your eyes. Although you had shown to be quite social when the bottle first began to be passed, you now wanted nothing more than to take a nice nap — or to go vomit just to ease yourself of the queasy feeling that was overtaking your stomach. Either would suffice. You listen to your friends chatting mindlessly around you, their care to be inconspicuous slipping away with the wine. You watch Connie drain what was left in the bottle, leaving you to curse at the fact that you would be stuck in the uncomfortable kind of drunk that left you a bit nauseous while still conscious enough to be prone to anxiety.

You sit there in a dizzy oblivion for what could have been five minutes or fifty, tuning out the antics of the rest of the people in the room as they laugh and roughhouse. Your stomach stirs and turns, but your mind begins to clear: you notice Connie and Sasha choreographing a dance routine to music only they could hear; Mikasa and Armin sit quietly chatting behind Eren as he and Jean argue over who is more adept at fighting; Ymir and Christa are making googly eyes at each other over their giggles.

“Hey, guys?” you say, your brain lagging behind your mouth by at least a few seconds. “I’m probably about to throw up.” You quickly discover that you’re right, as your gut begins to bubble and your mouth begins to water.

“Oh, fuck,” Connie mumbles as he looks around the room desperately. Sasha looks disappointed as he stops dancing and approaches where you sit against the wall, gripping your wrists in his hands and helping you to your feet; with both of you being drunk enough to show it, stumbles are surely present. Time skips, and you’re kneeled in front of the toilet, Connie leaving to give you privacy — you’re decidedly much drunker than you thought you were.

Just as you start to vomit, you hear Eren defeatedly say, “Oh, fuck me.” That can’t be good.

The space goes silent save your groans. The most imaginative depths of your brain think that perhaps a titan is looking in the window, waiting to bring you all to your doom. How convenient for half of the newest scout recruits to be intoxicated and defenseless. When you hear Levi’s voice say, “Stupid fucking brats. Where is she?” you wish it were a titan instead.

A chorus of voices answer, “Bathroom.” What a bunch of fucking sellouts, you think to yourself. Your heartbeat begins to pound in your throat again as you hear his footsteps grow near; when he taps at the door a few times, you let it all out — out of fear or simple drunkenness you are unsure. “God damn it,” you hear him mumble before the door handle turns and his hands find your hair, pulling it back into a makeshift ponytail.

He rubs your back in a manner you can only describe as passive-aggressive. You can tell he wants to scold you — and you’re definitely in for it once you get to feeling better — but you can also tell that he wants to care for you. That’s why you try to pretend not to hear his curses as he lectures you on responsibility.

“Why the hell are you drinking with these idiots? I wouldn’t be mad if it was a glass or two, but there are three empty bottles on the floor in there. Three. No wonder you’re puking your fucking guts up,” he mutters, voice low enough for only you to hear despite his angry tone.

You feel your eyes watering as your stomach settles for another brief moment. “Levi,” you say, your breathing labored, “now is not the time.” You hear him scoff before you begin to dry heave, his hand moving a bit more caring across your back as he holds onto your hair. Your gut starts to feel a bit better as your brain realizes there’s nothing left. He places his hands under your arms and lifts you gently to your feet before flushing the toilet. You stumble awkwardly to his lead as he escorts you to the sink.

He reaches around you to turn on the water, which is cold to the touch as he holds your hand beneath it. “Clean your mouth out,” he says, nudging his hand around yours until you form a cup. “It’s disgusting.” You oblige him, lifting it to your lips. You feel it drip down your chin as you swish it around between your teeth, looking up in the mirror to see your blushing cheeks and droopy eyes. Levi stands behind you, dressed in no more than a grey t-shirt and some comfortable-looking pants. His hair is neat and combed, which doesn’t quite match the rest of his attire, but you aren’t complaining. He looks as ethereal as always. After you spit, he grabs your shoulder and spins you around to face him.

“You okay?” he asks, brushing the tears that had formed on your face away with his thumbs. You shake your head at him, your eyes trailing down to the ground. Here comes the scolding.

He sweeps you off your feet, to your surprise, holding you bridal-style as he carries you out of the bathroom. You lay your head against his shoulder, seeing the walls of the room and the faces of your friends go blurrily by as he strides to the door; they all look terrified.

“Laps,” you hear Levi announce to your friends, his voice icy. “At dawn. I don’t give a shit if you’re hungover.”

A chorus of groans is the soundtrack for your exit as the door slams shut. The walk back to Levi’s suite is spotty at best; you’re unsure of exactly how long it’s taking. The scenery around you feels more dreamlike than anything — you find yourself hoping that you’re still propped against the wall with your friends, sleeping soundly and dreaming of Levi catching you red-handed. When time jumps and he’s laying you down on his couch, you’re pretty sure you’re awake.

You hear rustling around as you lay there, still half waiting for a scolding. He rejoins you rather quickly, setting some things down on the side table and gently lifting your head. He sits, letting you back down slowly to lay in his lap. “I brought you bread,” he says, taking it from the table and placing it in your hands. “It’ll soak up the alcohol. There’s water over here when you need it.” You inspect the bread lazily before nibbling on it. The very idea of chewing something and swallowing it is enough to make you nauseous, but you trust his judgement.

You feel his hand fall atop your forehead and his fingers draw circles in your hair. You don’t fight the grin threatening your lips. “Are you okay, my love?” he asks, his voice soft. This is the tenderness you had fallen in love with many months ago; the one thing your friends are blind to. He carries himself with such coldness for the public — he is rude, and blunt, and insufferable, and unobtainable. With you, however, he could be kind. He could be loving. The speed with which his gentle voice melts your heart never lessens. This is Levi at his most vulnerable.

“I’m just drunk,” you tell him, your words slurring into each other. “I’m not dying.”

You hear a chuckle barely pass over his lips like a spring breeze, the sparkle in his eyes reminiscent of the way the sun reflects off the surface of a pond. The peaceful nature of your position is a worthy opponent to how your insides wage war on one another: nausea, dizziness, and the beginnings of what will become an absolutely splitting headache all contained within one disoriented body. “I would’ve gone with you, you know,” he says suddenly after a serene moment of silence. “I would’ve known when you needed to stop drinking.” He combs his fingers against your cheek, silvery eyes softening into pools of undeniable adoration.

“You would’ve been a complete buzzkill,” you reply, half joking as you close your eyes and enjoy the rare affection.

You hear a cross between a scoff and a laugh come from above you. “Keeping those brats from getting you so wasted that you start puking isn’t being a buzzkill. It’s called taking care of you.”

“I think I’m not drunk enough,” you say honestly. “We ran out of wine right at that stage where you could go to sleep or start throwing up, but there’s absolutely no chance of having a good time.”

He taps the top of your head with two fingers, prompting you to let him up. You oblige him, using the opportunity to lay down your bread and take a sip from the glass of water that rests on the side table. You watch as he saunters back toward the kitchen, wondering what he was doing somewhat, but mostly just trying to get a grip on your senses. You sit up as you wait on his return, laying your head back against the plush upholstery and taking deep breaths.

He’s back as quickly as he left, both hands behind his back in a feeble attempt to hide the wine glasses as their stems poked around to your view. You feel a smile creep onto your face as he unveils his master plan: a bottle of red wine and a glass for each of you. “Don’t expect this often,” he announces as he sets it all on the table, pulling a wine key from his pocket. He joins you on the couch, scooting in close so that your knees brush before you hear the satisfying pop of the cork and the relaxing swish of liquid on glass.

“You’re expecting me to believe that Captain Levi is offering to get drunk with me?” you giggle, almost nervous to reach for the wine in front of you. He laughs off your comment, reaching in front of him and lifting the glass to his lips; he takes only a sip before looking at you in expectation. You take yours as well, holding it up to his jokingly before you both bring them to your mouths.

After your first gulp, time begins to melt away. A movie-esque montage begins in front of your eyes: the sight of the man you love, once so stoic and so stiff, loosening and laughing the night away at your side; the feeling of typically isolated and scarce hands trailing carelessly along the length of your arms, warm against the sensitive skin of your wrists and your thighs; the smell of red wine spilled innocently on hardwood and upholstery without complaints or uprooting to clean it; the sound of his velvet and brass voice with his uncensored expressions of love, whispered and melodic; the taste of mint and jasmine tea on his unusually wandering lips.

What might be thirty minutes or three hours passes in a flash, leaving you sprawled across the couch with the drunken mess that is your typically reserved lover, legs utterly entangled so that you were unsure where you ended and he began. He’s whispering to you — that much you know — but his words are slurred, and you’re unbelievably distracted by the feeling of wet kisses being peppered along your jaw and ear. He grasps at your back, massaging and caressing and leaving no inch uncovered by his calloused hands as his touch reminds you why you breathe and laugh and plainly exist.

“Levi,” you whisper, your mind a tangled ball of twine save for the feeling of his breath on your cheek.

He hums in response, not bothering to look up at you. You can feel his grin against your jaw.

“We should get to bed, love.”

You’d be left to wonder how the two of you made it into the next room when morning came; rest assured there would be a trail from the couch to the bedroom door made from clumsily knocked-over knick knacks and your discarded clothes from the day to clue you in. If you were sober, you’d care enough about Levi’s wrath tomorrow to clean up behind the two of you; however, you aren’t sober, and you don’t care enough.

The two of you fall into the bed you share, intertwining your limbs like the threads of a tapestry, laying out plainly and beautifully the comfort you find in him. Your head finds his chest and his hands find your lower back, pulling you flush against him as his eyelids begin their threats to close before he is quite ready. He murmurs out your name, his hold on you growing more snug when it passes his lips. “I love you, s—” he falters, nuzzling his face in the top of your head. “So much.”

It’s short — and a pretty common thing for someone to say to the person they love — but it means everything coming from him. “I love you, Levi,” you tell him, praying to whatever is up there that you’ll remember this in the morning.

Soon, the two of you stop stirring and whispering. As you breathe him in, you try to hear his words in your mind as many times as you can before you slip out of consciousness. You begin to drift off to sleep, peaceful and content in his arms as you’ve ever been.

[ultralovedeluxe]

Yandere! Jotaro Kujo with prompts #25 and #31

Hey everyone this was requested by  @mirroredmovements. I struggled with which Jotaro you meant, but I ended up settling with Stardust Jotaro (I hope that’s okay!). I also added an additional prompt, just for fun ^^

‘Why won’t you talk to me anymore?’

‘You’re the only one who understands me’

Warnings: 18 year old Jotaro, kind of au?, yandere behavior, mentions of violence, implied nsfw.

   The definition of loneliness is the state of being alone, and feeling sad about it.

   However, why is Kujo Jotaro experiencing this emotion of all people? He has nothing to be upset about. He’s financially stable, has a caring mother, and most importantly he does have friends (although only one of them is closer to his age range). So why is he feeling this way?

 He could always try to make new friends, but he’s already feared amongst his school (and the fact he dislikes people isn’t helping much either). He couldn’t meet new people, even if he wanted to. The male students would probably only want to be friends with him because of his status, and the females, well they already annoy him as fan-girls, having them as friends would be worse.

 That is, until Kakyoin introduces you to him.

--

   “Good afternoon Jotaro, how was class?” the fellow red-headed stand user asked. “I didn’t go to class today..” the taller male replied, his eyes going directly towards the person next to Kakyoin. He’d never seen you around before, were you a new student or something, because if you were he didn’t have time to show you around. Kakyoin sighed, “I thought we talked about this before Jotaro, it’s important for you to go to class and..”, Kakyoin noticed Jotaro staring at you; and to be completely honest his stare was starting to freak you out a bit. Kakyoin coughed and placed a hand on your shoulder, “Jotaro this is [first]-chan, I met her in art class a few weeks ago, and I wanted you two to meet”.

  “Nice to meet you Kujo-san, I hope we become good friends” you smiled, sticking your hand out to greet him. Jotaro stared at you for a bit and then looked at your hand, “Nice to meet you too I guess..” he said walking away from the two of you without looking back. He trusted Kakyoin’s judgement of people, but at the moment he didn’t want to waste his time here. 

  “I think that went well, usually he doesn’t even greet the other person at all..” Kakyoin whispered as he began to walk the opposite direction. You began to follow him, “I guess. Do you think I made a good first impression? He doesn’t look like he likes people very much..” you admitted while giving your hands a firm squeeze. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you two will get along..”

--

 Jotaro didn’t expect to become friends with you, let alone be good friends with you. When he first met you, he found you to be kind of annoying. He didn’t want to waste his time with you. Just because you were a friend of Kakyoin’s, didn’t mean he considered you a friend. But for some reason, he found himself growing attached to you. It was odd for him to be open with his feelings about things, but whenever he was with you it never felt that way. Whenever he’d talk with you or open up about things, you would just look at him and listen, without judging him at all. 

 You occasionally gave him advice, but most of the time you’d listen to what he had to say. From his thoughts about becoming a marine biologist one day, and anything really, you’d be there to listen.

 This warmed Jotaro’s heart to the core, and he found himself falling for you. He really didn’t expect it, but he welcomed this feeling regardless. He’d tell you eventually, but now was not the time.

“Jotaro-kun!"

 Even your voice had become music to Jotaro’s ears. He always prefered hanging out with quiet people, however you became an exeption. He began to look forward to hearing your voice. 

 Jotaro hummed in response, looking over to see your face. You gave him a small smile in return, “Look what I brought you! I remember you said you didn’t have any marine biology books at home, so I went to buy you one!” you grinned handing the tall male the book. Jotaro took the book and lowered his hat to cover the smile forming on his face. “Yare yare [first], you didn’t have to, I could’ve just gone to the library”

 “But I wanted to! Besides, checking out a book isn’t the same as owning one now is it?” you replied, sitting down on the grass to take a small break. Jotaro huffed, “Jeez woman, it seems you’re the only one who gets me. You understand me y’know?”. You only smiled back and lightly punched his shoulder, “Wow Jojo, you’re really sweet. Didn’t think I’d hear those words from you..”

 That was the first time you had used his nickname. Jotaro would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a chill go up his spine (in a good way of course). Unfortunately, these warm, fuzzy feeling vanished too soon.

 “Ah Jojo, do you know what time is it?” you asked, almost frantacally so. The taller male wondered how you manged to freak out so suddently, “It should be around 4:30..”

 “4:30? I’m late for my date! I hope he’s still waiting for me..” you said packing your bags in a hurry, ignoring Jotaro’s precense. “You’re going on a date? Who’s the lucky man?” Jotaro asked, trying his best not to just storm off in rage and jealousy. You just looked up at him, so innocently, like nothing you had said hurt him in the slightest, “Yeah a date with Ishii Yuuto. I haven’t met him, but he is really cute..Wish me luck Jojo-kun!” and with that you had already left.  A date? You had a date? With someone who wasn’t him? Someone had already captured your heart and asked you out? He wanted to be happy for you, he wanted to support you, just like how you are supportive of him. But he can’t, and the feeling is eating him from the inside. 

 It could’ve been you and him on that date. But maybe, just maybe, he could still go on a date with you after all. And he felt more of his patience chip away..

--

 The small cafe your classmate chose was adorable and pleasing to see. The warm colors greeted you nicely, and you had heard from a friend that this cafe serves some of the best sweets in Japan. Although you had never met Yuuto, you were exited that someone had invited you to a place like this, let alone being invited to a nice place by someone you found attractive. Then again, it seemed like it was too good to be true. You had been in a rush all day. You managed to go to a book store and buy a book for Jotaro, go back to school to meet Jotaro, and then go to this cafe. But your date didn’t seem to even be here. 

 “Great. This is fine” you mumbled to yourself as you paid for your drink. How upsetting, you actually thought Yuuto was a nice guy, guess he turned out to be the comeplete opposite of what you originally thought. 

 Walking out of the cute atmosphere from the cafe, you were met with an unfortunate sight. Not far from the cafe, was Jotaro standing over from what seemed to be Yuuto, but he was covered in bruises. You let out a small whimper, but quickly covered your mouth. Once Jotaro’s eyes met yours, you couldn’t stand being in his sight no longer. You started to run home, it wasn’t that far anyway, your parents were most likely home, you would be safe and sound; you just needed to run a little faster.

 ‘Was that really Jotaro?’ you thought finally reaching your home in time. There was no doubt about it. That man that stood above Yuuto was indeed Jotaro. You just wished this was all a dream, that it wasn’t true, but there was no denying what you saw was true.

.

.

.

 Jotaro watched you run, letting out a small ‘tch’ while kicking the unconscious body of Yuuto. He didn’t kill him (but he was on the verge of), he just injured him a bit, that’s all. Deep down, Jotaro was dissapointed in himself, but at the same time, he only did this because he cares for you right? 

 At least that’s what he’s telling himself.

--

 “[first]-chan did you hear about Ishii-san yesterday?” your classmate asked you. You avoided eye contact with her, “No. I don’t know what happend at all” you replied, trying not bring tears to your eyes. “I heard from the police officers that he was found beat up not far from where you were supposed to meet him. They said he is going to be in the hospital for a month. Did you see anything?” she asked, clearly asking questions that were getting more personal by the second. Images of Yuuto’s bruised body ran thorugh your mind, “I didn’t see anything. I just went home and that’s it. I have to go”.

 You walked out of your classroom and began to walk to a bathroom nearby. These thoughts were going to haunt you, and you tried to get rid of them, you’re really trying. But you’re starting to get convinced that won’t happen, because just a few seconds into your walk, Jotaro was walking behind you. ‘No..no he’s not supposed to be here anyway! Just keep calm and keep walking you’re almost there’ you thought, but you started walking faster. Jotaro noticed this and caught up with you real quick.

 “Yare yare why do you keep running? Why won’t you talk to me anymore?” Jotaro asked you, as if he didn’t know what he had done; making it seem like you were the crazy one. You walked farther, but Jotaro just kept catching up with you. This time however, he held your hands behind your back. You hissed in pain, you always knew he was strong, but never in your life did you think he’d lay a hand on you. 

 “Please let me go..” you said, trying your best not to let your voice crack out of pressure. You felt Jotaro kiss your cheek lightly. And you let him. You let him because you actually couldn’t move. You felt like there was something holding you against your will. You let Jotaro explore your body for a few minutes, and you felt awful. Someone you once saw as a friend, was fondling with your breasts along with kissing your neck with and ever loving passion. You wanted to cry, you wanted to scream, hell you just wanted to run away from Jotaro’s grasp. Those arms that were once so comforting, were starting to sufficate you. 

 Jotaro had been using Star Platinum to hold you together. He didn’t want you to leave so soon, after all he finally had you in his grasp he had no reason to let you go. 

 Not satisfied with what he had done to you, Jotaro dragged you towards a bathroom and shoved you towards a stall. He removed that stupid hat he always wore and pinned you towards the stall, while unbuckling his pants. 

.

.

.

 The definition of of lonliness is the state of being alone, and feeling sad about it. Kujo Jotaro had experienced this emotion right before meeting you. Now the feeling he is experiencing is love. However, that ‘love’ soon became a frightening obssesion. 

 And you can only watch him go through it. 

[txdoroki]

I have one! I was thinking about a senario where the reader is in the common room at UA hanging out with the bakusquad, and they’re listening to music. A few songs come on that the reader really enjoys and they end up dancing around the couches with Kirishima and Denki, Sero and Mina all fun like. Twirling and spinning and things like that! Leaving their boyfriend Bakugou a bit grumpy....

Buuut.....when they’ve had their fun and call it a night, the reader spends the night in Katsuki’s dorm. When they get there, they get their phone out and play some soft, slow song, and grab Bakugous wrist. They explain that THIS is how they want to dance with him, and no one else. Swaying slow and sweet in the dark room.....*sigh*....

aww omg that sounds so adorable, hope this suffices >,<

words: 748

warnings: none

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you and your friends were chilling in the common room, sero’s bluetooth speaker blasting the playlist you all had made in your first year together. even though it was a few years old, it still had bangers.

all six of you were sitting on the couches, mina laying with her legs in sero and denki’s laps, kirishima sprawled out on one of the huge chairs, and you had your boyfriend’s arm around you, the grip loose but still there. he wasn’t one for pda, so even this was a bit surprising to you.

every now and then you and mina would sing along to songs, denki and sero joining in as well, but everyone mainly just bopped their heads to the songs while you scrolled through your phones or blabbered about whatever came to mind.  

until one song started playing that you all knew too well. the entire group looked at each other excitedly. well, except bakugou, him grumbling about you guys being loud while he frowned at his phone.

“cmon, we gotta dance to this!” you stood up and grabbed mina’s hand, twirling her around while everyone else stood up as well.

you five danced around the room, singing along to the songs that played. you and mina would twirl and spin around, nearly crashing down when you’d hit the back of your knees on the coffee table.

you and denki chased each other around the couches, the entire group roaring with laughter when he tripped and fell. you and mina would rock back and forth, sing-yelling along. at one point sero did the robot, not well but he tried. kirishima was just grooving around the whole time, giving everyone enthusiastic high-fives.

“woo!” you giggled when you flopped down onto a couch once the song ended, catching bakugou off guard.

“chill, dumbass,” he mumbled and didn’t look up from his phone, trying his best to control his temper since you were around. he draped his arm over your shoulder again, weakly tugging at you to rest your head on his shoulder.

you all talked about whatever, making fun of each other and telling stories. at one point kirishima brought up a brief emo phase he had during seventh grade, showing you all pictures that made you lose it. even bakugou chuckled, smiling in particular at a photo kirishima had captioned “you only have yourself in this treacherous world.. no one else....”

at around 1 am, the group decided to head back to their dorms, all of you worn out from the dancing and laughing.

“stay the night with me?” he muttered and looked at you, a small smile coming to his face when you nodded.

you walked with your pinkies intertwined, he was a bit iffy about holding hands for fear he’d get nervous and let off an explosion.

once you got back to his dorm, you lit a candle or two instead of turning on his lamp. you turned on a slow song, its sound calming you down to let out a breath you didn’t you you were holding. when he went to switch on his lamp, you  grabbed his wrist, pulling him towards you.

“y/n, what are you doing,” he asked while you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“i wanna dance with you, suki! pretty please,” you looked up at him with puppy dog eyes, swaying a bit to the tune of the song you had put on. he looked majestic in the soft light casted from the candles, and you silently thanked yourself for being able to pull such a good boyfriend.

“fine, nerd,” he smiled at you as he wrapped his arms loosely around your waist.

he was a much better dancer than you expected, twirling you around and catching you in perfect form. every now and then he’d dip you, planting a kiss on your lips, making both of you blush every damn time. 

it was a sweet few minutes that you both were admiring each other, minds more focused on each other than the actual song.

after dancing, he turned on the lamp and you covered your face with your sleeve, trying to hide the hard blush that was swept across it.

he kissed the cheek your sleeve wasn’t covering, only making your blush worse.

“careful, y/n, don’t turn into a goddamn tomato.” he smiled, putting a hand on your cheek to softly caress your face a few times before he handed you one of his shirts to change into. 

[edendaphne]

“Discordant Sonata” Chapter 17

>>Click here to read on Ao3<<

>>Click here to read on Wattpad<<

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CHAPTER 17: LULLABY

(Mood Music: Quiet Beauty - James Todd)

One Chilly Sunday Evening

Chat Noir laughed so hard he was practically gasping for air, and his heart thumped like a drum in his chest.

How many times had they done this? Was it five? A dozen? A hundred? Racing Ladybug across city rooftops felt so normal, so natural, as if he’d done it a million times across countless different lifetimes. Whatever the case, there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

“I win!” he announced, breathless, as he landed on the solid ground of the Dupain-Cheng bakery’s balcony, promptly followed by his partner.

The light of the moon illuminated her graceful frame as she caught her breath, and it took all of Chat’s willpower not to gawk as a bead of sweat made its way from her temple to her cheek, then trailed down her jaw and onto her neck.

“Only because you cheated!” Ladybug chided, trying (yet failing) to hide an amused smile.

Chat put a hand on his hip, cheekily cocking it to the side as he caught his own breath. “I bet you could’ve won if you really wanted to. Were you trailing behind me on purpose to check out my assets? Or don’t tell me that you’ve never been tempted to take a peek?”

Ladybug raised a quizzical eyebrow, and a beat later replied with an impish smirk, “Well... I never said I haven’t.”

Chat’s eyes grew wide, his bright, chartreuse-green sclera becoming more visible than Ladybug had ever seen, their faint glow a stark contrast with the red color that bloomed on his cheeks.

Ladybug giggled (How dare she be so adorable yet still so attractive?!) and stepped towards him, placing her finger under his chin and closing his mouth with a small click. When had his jaw popped open??

“What’s the matter, Chaton? Can’t handle when somebody flirts back?” she teased, her face mere inches from his.

Chat suppressed the urge to squirm under her touch. They’d flirted countless times before, but why did his chest feel so tight when they did so lately?

Trying to compose himself and insert as much confidence as he could into his voice, he cleared his throat and straightened his posture. “I’ll have you know that I’m a very desirable bachelor in my day-to-day life! I happen to have more suitors than I can shake a stick at!”

He’d said it jokingly, expecting to get rebuffed; but Ladybug gave him an exaggerated pout, tapping her mouth with her fingers (a gesture he couldn’t help but follow closely with his gaze).

“Ohh, I see…. Should I be jealous?” she said as she looked up at him through her thick eyelashes. “Do I have competition?”

Chat reached for her hand, slowly bringing it to his lips with a slight bow. “Never,” he replied, with a bit more conviction and candor than he’d intended. “Nobody could ever hold a candle to you, Milady. Your wit, kindness, and beauty surpasses them all. It is you alone who holds the key to my heart.”

Now it was Ladybug’s turn to get caught off guard. His words were theatrical and over-the-top, as usual; but there was sincerity behind them. There was something about the way he’d said them that made it feel… real. She couldn’t help but shyly look away, her cheeks a bright crimson hue, and she tucked some hair behind her ear as she always did whenever she was flustered or nervous.

“Flatterer,” she said timidly, attempting to deflect the compliment.

“It’s not flattery if it’s true,” he replied with a wink.

Ladybug stared slack-jawed, and could only stutter out an ever so eloquent “I-I-I...” By this point, her entire face was as red as her suit, and she covered her face with both hands in embarrassment. “Chaaaaaaaat!” she cried helplessly in defeat.

Chat let out a hearty laugh, giving her a quick, comforting squeeze. He’d won this round of impromptu chicken. Deciding to have mercy and spare her from any further teasing, he changed the subject.

“Anyway, it’s too bad I can’t be the one to drop you off at your house, Bugaboo. It would be the gentlemanly thing to do. But alas, I’m lacking in the whole ‘majestic white steed’ department,” he remarked as he crossed his arms and leaned against the brick wall.

She laughed lightly through her nose. “Well, we’re not exactly your average, run of the mill coupl– uh, partners. Plus, I already know where you live, so that’s easy to do.”

Chat ignored her slip of the tongue, since he didn’t dare to hope for more. At least... not yet.

“That’s for sure,” he replied with a small chuckle. “We’re a rather unique situation. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Ladybug leaned next to him against the wall, pressing her back against the cool surface of the bricks as their shoulders bumped.

She hesitated for a few moments, seeming to gather her thoughts. He eyed her curiously, waiting for her to speak her mind.

“So…” she began, looking out into the dark autumn sky. “Which part is true? That you think I’m... beautiful, or that I hold the key to your... t-that I…”

A jolt of lightning traveled down his spine and he stared at her like a kid who’d just broken a window. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out– not even a flustered stammer.

He hadn’t meant to blurt out his feelings so casually a minute ago. In fact, he’d been working on an elaborate speech for when the time was right! It still needed lots of work; he was only on the seventh draft.

He paused to consider. Would it be so bad, though? If he were to confess to her right now?

It wasn’t how he’d planned it. There wasn’t an elegantly decorated rooftop full of roses and strings of lights, or soft romantic music, or any of the other things that would have made it perfect. He was supposed to carry her to a surprise location (bridal-style of course), her lithe arms wrapped around his neck, with a snugly placed blindfold around her eyes to amplify the mystery and anticipation.

And maybe, just maybe, she’d be impressed with his efforts enough to accept his feelings before she could realize that she was too good for him.

Truly his adoration for her knew no bounds. So much so, that he’d asked himself whether it was truly love, or if just an overblown obsession or infatuation.

And yet, he knew that wasn’t the case. He knew she wasn’t perfect. She didn’t need a pedestal. He’d placed her on one when they’d first become allies, but she pulled him up to her level, never allowing him to lower himself or place himself beneath her. She made sure that he always knew he was her equal, and not her subordinate. I mean, how could he not fall in love with her?

So, despite the fact that it wasn’t at all how he planned and he’d suddenly blanked out on his entire speech... he wanted to tell her. Now was as good a time as any.

Ladybug must have sensed the shift in his mood because she recoiled somewhat, jolting away from the brick wall.

She hastily began to backpedal, “N-nevermind, forget I said anything!! Um, anyway, have a good night!”

Chat shook himself out of his daze, then lunged forth to catch her arm as she reached for her yo-yo.

“M-milady, wait!”

She turned to face him, her face full of regret and embarrassment. “S-sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to tease you. Well– I mean, I did, but I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just–”

“No! N-no, don’t worry, you didn’t. It’s just that I’ve been… wanting to tell you something. Something important.”

He felt her stiffen at his words, and her eyes grew wide with apprehension.

Crap. He hadn’t meant to scare her.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise!” he tried to reassure her. “Or… at least, I don’t think it’s bad. I mean, I hope it isn’t. To you, that is. What I mean is…” He rubbed the back of his neck with a groan, then let out a nervous, shallow breath.

She quirked her head to the side, as she unknowingly did whenever she was feeling curious or inquisitive. He tried (in vain) to ignore how cute she looked so he could focus on the task at hand.

This is it. You can do it. Be brave like Marinette!! She’d believe in you!

The butterflies in his stomach multiplied tenfold; there was no going back.

And yet... how do you even begin to tell someone that you can’t imagine your life without them? That you’d sacrifice absolutely everything for their happiness; that you’d rather suffer a thousand deaths than to ever see them in pain? That the thought of losing them kept you awake at night more often than you’d like to admit?

How could he put into words that until she came along, he never imagined he’d be able to feel happiness again?

No; words could never suffice. There was nothing he wanted more than to grab his Lady by the waist and give her the most passionate kiss he could muster so that he could show her his love instead.

But he couldn’t. He had to know how she felt in return before he did something that rash, something that could potentially wreck their partnership if his actions were unwelcome.

He didn’t want to ruin anything. He was utterly terrified. And yet… he yearned for her to know.

He had to try. It might be selfish, but he had to tell her how he felt. Just in case she might maybe, possibly, someday, feel the same way.

Ladybug gently touched his forearm, her slender fingers skimming up and down the fabric of his gloves. “Kitty,” she began, concern written all over her face, her piercing sky blue eyes searching his own. “Is everything alright?”

Chat did his best to offer a reassuring smile, placing his opposite hand on top of hers. “I’m fine,” he answered. “I just have a bit of a confession to make.”

Ladybug’s face softened, and she returned a small smile as she waited for him to proceed, still unsure but relieved.

He swallowed thickly, and tried to steady his voice. “I know we haven’t known each other for very long. Well, I mean– technically we’ve known each other for years– but what I mean is that we haven’t really gotten to know each other ‘til recently. Uhh, that is––”

Ladybug gave a small giggle. “It’s okay, Chat. I know what you mean.”

Chat smiled back. “Anyway, I want you to know that our friendship means absolutely everything to me. And I would never want to do anything to jeopardize that, not ever. With that said, I still need you to know that I… that I...” he trailed off, looking away and biting his lip.

A few seconds passed, and he felt Ladybug’s soft hand touch his cheek, which gently turned his head to face her once again.

“Talk to me, Chat. You can tell me anything.”

Those eyes. Those big, gorgeous, absolutely amazing eyes. She was the sun and moon and stars all wrapped up in a tiny, polka-dotted package, and all he could offer her was himself. Was he enough? He silently prayed she hadn’t noticed how much his hands were trembling right now.

“I know I shouldn’t. I don’t know anything about your civilian self. Not really. Where you live, where you go to school, who your friends are. Whether you already have a special someone in your life. Or whether you–” he gulped “–whether you could ever feel the same way about me as I do about you.”

She stepped closer, sliding her hand down his arm and wrapping her fingers around his own (he’d never been as grateful that his suit had gloves as he was now, given how sweaty his palms were at the moment).

“And… how do you feel about me?” she asked, with a– dare he say– hopeful tone in her voice.

Her eyes bore into his own with such intensity and heat that he could no longer feel the chilly night air. He forced himself to hold her gaze, so she could be sure that his words were genuine.

“I wasn’t sure whether I should say anything or if it should wait until after we defeated Hawkmoth. I didn’t know if I was ready to… to open myself up and risk getting hurt in the process. Because I am so, so afraid of losing you.” He bit his lip, but continued, “But I don’t think I can wait that long. You have to know, because I might not get another chance...”

His posture straightened a bit, and he took both her hands into his. (Was it his hands that were still shaking, or hers?)

“I love you,” he finally uttered, his voice husky and low, as if it were a declaration far too sacred for others to hear. He heard her breath catch slightly. “I love you so much, My Lady.” Chat’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, and he let out a shaky sigh. “You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. When you’re with me, I can’t help but feel truly happy. Happy to be your teammate, happy to be your friend… happy to be alive. You make me want to become a better person, and I just needed you to know that.”

He shrunk into himself somewhat, taking an unsteady, quivering breath, having expended all his bravery with his proclamation of love.

He’d done it. He’d confessed.

...Now what?

A few moments passed in silence. He bit the inside of his cheek anxiously, unsure of how to continue.

Mayday. Mayday. The hairs in the back of his neck stood up on end; his mind nervous and uncertain.

“A-anyway, that’s all I wanted to say,” he blurted out. “I know it’s a lot to take in; you don’t have to say anything back.” He let go of her hands and crossed his arms, suddenly feeling quite vulnerable. “I mean, I’m not gonna lie, I’d prefer if you said something back just so I know where we stand, but you definitely don’t have to,” he continued to ramble. “I don’t want it to be awkward or uncomfortable between us, so I won’t mention it ever again if that’s what you want. I’ll always respect your wishes and do what you think is best, ‘cause I have complete faith in you and I–”

His nervous ramblings were cut short by warm, delicate lips delivering a featherlight kiss to his cheek, and Chat let out a small gasp despite himself.

“Was that alright?” she asked, her voice breathy and soft.

Chat practically swooned in disbelief. “More than alright,” he exhaled. “S-so… does that mean that you like m–”

Ladybug stood on her tiptoes and surged forward to capture his lips, answering his question in a way he never would have imagined when he woke up that morning.

There was no way this was actually happening. Was he still breathing?? The girl he loved not only liked him back, but was doing something he’d only ever dreamed about.

He decided to take a chance. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, to which Ladybug responded with a small, surprised moan, and then wrapped her arms around his neck. At some point, his hands had ended up on the small of her back, pulling her flush against him, and he was sure she’d be able to feel his heart pounding.

Several blissful moments later, they separated to catch their breath but didn’t pull completely apart. Chat was sure that if he let go of her, he would surely melt into a puddle on the spot.

Ladybug panted lightly. “So… does that answer your question?” she asked, still smiling, her lips almost brushing against his.

Chat cleared his throat, then managed to stammer out in a raspy voice, “Uh, yeah, that works.”

He bent his neck forward so she wouldn’t have to stand on her tiptoes anymore, pressing his forehead against hers and closing his eyes in contentment. Surely this was too good to be true, right?! Was he asleep??

But as always, the overthinker in him struck again and a thought came to him. He furrowed his brow in concern as he became acutely aware of the fact that just because she liked him back didn’t mean she wanted to become anything more than partners. Maybe the kiss was a one-time thing and she wanted to keep things professional? He wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Why can’t I just be satisfied with what I already have? This is more than I could ever ask for, so why press my luck?

Ladybug, perceptive as ever, noticed his unease.

“What are you thinking about, Chaton?” she whispered with a slight frown.

Deciding to be honest, he loosened his hold on her and stepped back, his jaw tensed. A few thoughtful seconds later, he tried to explain, “I just… What do you want me to be to you? I know we can’t exactly act like a ‘normal’ couple. It’s not like we can go to the movies or amusement parks together, and you can’t exactly take me to your house to meet your parents. So, umm… what happens next?”

Ladybug reached for his hand, squeezing lightly. “If you’re worried that I’m only interested in a fling or a friends-with-benefits type of relationship, I’m not. I don’t know how this is gonna work, and I do want to take things slow, but… you are so special to me, Chat. All I know is that I want you in my life. As more than teammates. Do you want that too?”

“Yes!” Chat exclaimed (a bit more emphatically than he’d intended) and nodded. “I want to make this work! I really do.”

She reached up to cup his cheek, stroking it gently with her thumb, and he couldn’t help but lean into her caresses. “And, while I don’t think we really need a formal label for what we have, if giving it a name makes you feel better, then… What if we’re ‘dating’? What do you think? Sound good to you?”

Chat grinned, lifting his hand to run it through her long, dark hair. “It’s more than I could’ve ever hoped for,” he replied, completely elated. “I’ll make you happy, I swear it.”

She stepped back into his space and wrapped her arms around him, letting her hands wander until they settled on the base of his back. And even though he was much larger than her, her hugs always somehow managed to completely envelop him in feelings of safety and comfort.

“You already make me happy, you dork.”

Chat shifted his body so he could make eye contact with his beloved once again. His hand wandered to her jawline, which caused her to shiver with what he hoped was pleasure and anticipation. He made his way down her jaw towards her chin, his movements slow and deliberate, relishing how absolutely beautiful yet adorably shy she appeared in this moment.

Tilting her chin upwards with his forefinger, Chat leaned down and Ladybug’s eyes fluttered shut, her blush still visible under the faint glow of the balcony lights. Chat shut his own eyes in preparation…

...Only to bolt upright in alarm. His ears twitched and he whipped his head around, searching. Without a word, he scooped up Ladybug and bounded up onto the rooftop, landing behind the balcony wall. Ladybug let out a less than dignified “EEP!!”, clinging to him as she was whisked away.

Upon landing, she was about to ask Chat what was going on but he gently placed his finger on her lips. Then he moved it to his own lips, shaking his head. Ladybug understood and nodded. Then they stood there, still as a statue, and waited.

Hinges creaked as the hatch door swung open, and the pair heard someone climb out onto the balcony. Said individual took a deep breath of the fresh evening air, then walked towards the railing to look out into the city.

A few minutes passed, and Chat finally realized the rather intimate position he and Ladybug had put themselves in during their hasty escape. There he stood, back pressed to the wall, with his partner essentially plastered up onto him, their limbs an intertwined mess, leaving not even a sliver of free space between their bodies. Ladybug seemed to realize this at about the same time, and they looked to each other with matching flustered grins, blushing furiously. She made to move away slightly and give him some space—

But her yo-yo had partially unraveled during their clamber onto the roof, and had wrapped around them, becoming tangled in both his cape and his tail. She giggled awkwardly, then began squirming— first lightly, then a bit more vigorously when it became clear that that was ineffective. Chat bit his lip almost painfully, trying very hard not to think about their current situation, lest he unwillingly embarrass himself in a more... somatic way.

A voice cut through the silence of the nighttime air, jolting them to a halt, and they ceased their struggles once again to listen in. Chat twisted his mouth, frowning. He wasn’t normally the type of person who enjoyed eavesdropping; but he didn’t exactly have a choice at the moment.

“What are you doing up here, Tom?” asked the voice of Sabine Dupain-Cheng as she climbed out onto the balcony.

“Oh, nothing. Just, uhh... getting some fresh air. No other reason,” Tom replied, with a tone that wasn’t entirely convincing.

Sabine made her way to stand next to her husband. “You wouldn’t happen to be waiting for a certain housecat to return from the akuma attack that happened earlier tonight, would you?” she asked knowingly.

Tom stammered, “N-no! No, of course not! I’m not waiting for anyone! And I’m certainly not worried! Nope, definitely not worried sick whatsoever; not at all.”

Sabine leaned into him with a playful giggle. “That’s what you say, dear. But I can tell you’re very fond of him.”

“I-I am not!” he sputtered. “I just… wanted to make sure he was going to show up at work tomorrow, that’s all. We have that big shipment of sugar coming in and—umm— my back is sore, so I’ll need the help! Yeah, that’s it. I’m just making sure he acts responsible.” He nodded solemnly, crossing his arms.

On the other side of the wall, Chat couldn’t help but crack a smile at Tom’s poorly-hidden concern. He’d never seen this side of him before, at least not as Chat Noir.

Sabine patted Tom on the back. “Well, you should come back inside. It’s pretty chilly tonight and we can’t have you catching a cold. He’ll be back soon. He’s probably just having some ‘alone time’ with Ladybug.”

Chat and Ladybug practically jumped at this statement, whipping their heads towards each other, then back down at their current predicament. Chat shrugged apologetically with a rather sheepish expression on his face, and it took all of Ladybug’s willpower not to laugh at how cute he looked.

“Hmph. You’re probably right,” they heard Tom say, and then footsteps as the married couple made their way back indoors.

“Come on, I’ll make us some tea.”

With that, the balcony hatch closed, and the pair remained still for a few moments to verify that Tom and Sabine wouldn’t come back, in case they’d left anything behind.

Chat was the first to break the silence. “So, uhhh… Now what?”

Ladybug did her best trying to find and figure out where the biggest tangles were, but the range of her movement was quite limited.

“It’s too dark, I can’t see anything,” she replied. “And even if I could, I can’t move my arms much.”

“Same, my arms are pinned down. What should we do?”

Ladybug scrunched her face, deep in thought. A few moments later, her brows raised as an idea came to her.

“Uh… I have an idea, but it’s a bit risky.”

Chat cocked his head to the side with curiosity, waiting for her to elaborate. “Go on.”

“Well, umm… don’t freak, just hear me out. What if we detransformed?”

Chat looked at her like she’d suggested that they throw themselves into an active volcano, and she quickly added, “W-with our eyes closed, that is! That way, we can re-transform and everything will be in its proper place.”

Chat pondered her words. It did seem like the simplest, easiest solution.

“Well… Okay,” he replied. “Let’s do it. I swear I won’t look.”

Ladybug grinned widely at him. “I know. I trust you.”

She leaned into him, placing her head against his chest.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Yeah. Claws in.”

“Spots off.”

A flash of neon green and pink briefly illuminated the rooftop, and then it was dark again.

A detransformed Chat couldn’t help but let out a gasp. This was the very first time he’d ever touched Ladybug without the barriers of their near-indestructible suits. Her shirt was made out of some lightweight fabric, much too thin for this kind of weather, as if she’d been lounging at home when the akuma attack had begun earlier and she’d left her house in a hurry. He took the opportunity to savor this moment, wrapping his arms around his Lady’s shoulders, keeping her close and warm.

His fingers touched something silky and sleek, and he almost gasped again in awe. “Your hair is down,” he uttered, almost too quiet for Ladybug to hear.

He felt her smile against his chest. He took this opportunity to glide his bare hand down her long, thick locks, relishing the feel, knowing he wouldn’t be able to touch her like this again. At least, not for who knows how long. He wished with all his heart they could stay like this forever.

Her body shifted slightly, and a beat later he felt her fingers sneak into his own hair, massaging his scalp in a comical manner.

“If you get to touch my hair, I get to touch yours,” she stated, her voice impish and playful. “Good Lord, what shampoo do you use?! Your hair is so soft!!”

Chat let out a hearty laugh. “I bet we look ridiculous right now, just two people on a roof groping each other’s heads. Good thing it’s too dark to see anything.

Ladybug snickered as she lowered her hands, holding onto him to help keep her balance. The rooftop was relatively flat, but the physical contact made her feel safer regardless. “Yeah, I don’t think anyone could see us if they were to look out their windows; it’s a new moon tonight. But we should still keep our eyes closed, just in case.”

She laid back into him and they embraced in silence, enjoying the calm. His hand traced gentle patterns on her back, and she nuzzled even closer to keep warm.

“Your voice,” Ladybug said, cutting through the stillness.

Chat raised an eyebrow. “Hmm? What about it?”

“It sounds different somehow. Kinda… softer? I dunno,” she said, shrugging slightly.

“Now that you mention it, you sound kind of different too,” he agreed.

The glamour magic must be stronger when they’re transformed, he realized. The magic was still present while in their civilian forms, albeit weaker. Out of costume, Ladybug’s voice sounded more… familiar somehow? He tried not to think about that too much; this wasn’t the time or place.

“D-do you like it?” he added, his tone tentative.

“Yeah!” she blurted out. “I-it’s nice. Really nice. I like it.”

He made a pleased sound, then replied, “And yours is lovely. I can’t wait til I get to hear more of it in the future.”

“Same.” Ladybug let out a long, contented sigh. “We should probably get going. They’re waiting for you inside. But you heard Mr. Dupain-Cheng; he’s most definitely not concerned about you,” she said with a snicker.

Chat busted out laughing. “He’s pretty great. Just cautious, is all.” Then he added jokingly, “He probably doesn’t want to get too attached, just in case I suddenly decide to go on a feral murder spree one day.”

Ladybug blew a raspberry and smacked him lightly on the chest. “Noooooo, I am one hundred percent sure he does not think that! I’m sure he’ll warm up to you in no time!”

“I hope so,” he replied with a chuckle. He hesitated before speaking again. “Umm, Bugaboo… Before we transform back, would it be alright if… if I kissed you again?” Ladybug’s entire body twitched in surprise. “Just once, as our real selves.”

He felt her chest rise and fall as she let out some flustered noises. She managed to settle down a bit, and replied in a hushed voice, “Yeah. Th-that would be nice.”

He moved his hand, blindly feeling around until he found the side of her face. He cupped her cheek with a featherlight touch, his other arm snugly around her waist, keeping her steady. She placed both hands on his chest, craning her neck back, eagerly awaiting what was to come. He lowered his face slowly, to avoid bumping their heads together. Their breaths mingled, shallow and nervous. Their first kiss out of the masks… would it feel any different, he wondered?

Their noses touched, and then—

BONK!

They let out a simultaneous “Ow!” and he had to remind himself to keep his eyes closed in his confusion.

Ladybug reached up to feel his face, then gasped in disbelief.

“Chat! You… you wear glasses!”

He snickered at her surprised reaction. “Is that so shocking? Do you not like glasses?”

She sputtered, “N-no! I mean, yes! I mean, th-that’s not it. I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all!”

Chat couldn’t help himself. “So would you say that you made a… spectacular discovery?” he said cheekily.

Ladybug let out a long, exaggerated groan at the pun as she plopped her head onto his chest, causing him to break into a barely-contained giggle fit.

“My soul just died a little from that terrible joke,” she croaked out.

“I apologize; that’s just how eye roll!”

Ladybug made an even more dismayed sound that resembled a deflating balloon, which only made Chat crack up even harder.

“You’re soooo awwwwfuuul,” she groaned, but he could hear the smile in her voice.

“Here,” he said, sliding his glasses off his nose and onto the top of his head, resting just above the hairline. “Now they’re out of the way.”

“Good,” Ladybug giggled. “Because I’d really like to try again.”

He chuckled, angling his head down. “Whatever My Lady desires,” he replied, more than happy to comply.

-----------

Marinette glided across her bedroom, half-dancing, half-skipping, humming along to the music coming from her computer while she brushed her teeth. She paused to pick up her mannequin, spinning it around as if dancing with an imaginary partner.

“Marinette, you probably shouldn’t do that with a toothbrush in your mouth,” Tikki advised, though an amused smile tugged at her mouth.

“Hnn-kay,” Marinette replied with a giggle, setting down the mannequin, then made her way to the sink to finish up her bedtime routine.

When she was done, she walked over to where Tikki was resting at the desk, in a little handmade bed that could pass for a stylish pin-cushion or phone rest.

“Ready for bed?” she asked in a chipper voice, scooping up the kwami into her hands then heading up to her loft bed.

Tikki snickered at her charge’s excitement. This was definitely one of her favorite parts of mentoring a Ladybug. “Today was a good day for you, wasn’t it, Marinette?”

“Gosh, you can say that again!” she replied, voice high and giddy. “I just can’t believe it, Tikki! It feels like things just keep getting better and better. Now I get to plan our dates, gifts, anniversary milestones–”

Tikki raised a brow. “Uhh… Marinette, what happened to ‘taking things slow’?”

The girl pouted. “I am taking it slow! It’s not like I’m planning our wedding or anything!” The kwami rolled her eyes fondly in response.

Marinette set Tikki down on the pillow next to hers and flopped down stomach first. She turned around, still holding the pillow, and screeched happily into it, kicking her legs into the air. Tikki couldn’t help but giggle.

“Think you’ll be able to sleep with all this excitement?” she asked.

Marinette turned off the lights and snuggled under her blankets, squeezing her giant cat plushie.

“Yep! Boy, am I beat! I’m totally gonna sleep like a baby tonight.”

Tikki smiled warmly. “Great to hear. Good night, Marinette.”

Marinette let out a long yawn and rubbed the top of Tikki’s head with her finger. “G’night, Tikki.” ------

(Mood Music: The Lonely - Christina Perri)

This was most certainly not a good night. Marinette’s bleary eyes glanced over at the clock next to her bed.

3:00 AM, it said.

She groaned inwardly. She’d woken up about an hour ago and hadn’t been able to go back to sleep, despite being completely bushed.

Something just felt… off. Her stomach was churning and her skin felt like pins and needles. Should she check to make sure the front door is locked? Did she forget to do any homework? Was there a test tomorrow in one of her classes? She just couldn’t think of anything that would require her attention. Why was she feeling so stressed?? Frustration had set in, and she dreaded having to go to school tomorrow (or rather, later today, in a few hours’ time).

Maybe she just needed some water to calm down her nerves. Because that’s clearly what it was, right? Just some subconscious anxiety, maybe about the future, or getting into a good university, or having to defeat Hawkmoth.

Well… when put in that way, she supposed there were a few rather stressful things happening in her life. But even still! She hardly ever had a hard time sleeping before, because she was always exhausted!

She slowly scooted out of the bed, careful not to wake Tikki, and climbed down from her loft. Letting out a lengthy yawn, she made her way downstairs to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. Maybe that would help settle her stomach.

And yet somehow, now that she was here, the uneasy feeling intensified.

What the hell?!

The last time she'd felt this kind of unexplained restlessness and malaise was when…

...When she’d found Chat in that alley after his confrontation with Hawkmoth.

Panic sunk into her gut and she bolted towards Chat’s bedroom. She reached the door and was about to burst inside, but she paused. Maybe stampeding into someone’s room uninvited while they were asleep was a bad idea. Not wanting to wake him up, but not willing to leave until she was sure of his safety, she instead crouched and placed her ear against the door.

Expecting to hear nothing except maybe some light snoring, Marinette’s eyes widened when instead she heard whimpering and sobbing. Needing no further invitation, she entered the room.

Chat was curled up in a fetal position facing away from the door, shaking and crying. It was too dark to see clearly, but she could tell he wasn’t transformed.

Is he upset? Is he sick??

She called his name with a small voice, “Chat Noir?”

The panting and sobbing continued, getting stronger and stronger with each second that passed.

“Chat, what’s the matter?” She sat on the bed and placed her hand on his back. The fabric of his shirt clung to his skin; his body was drenched in sweat.

Again, there was no response. By this point he began to toss and turn, almost thrashing in distress and terror.

He’s still asleep, Marinette realized.

“Chat, wake up!” she cried, shaking him vigorously, trying to rouse him from his nightmare. “Kitty, please! Wake up!”

He turned towards her, hair covering his face and sticking to the damp skin, and she had to force herself to not look at him directly to keep his identity a secret.

Seemingly out of nowhere, he surged forward, seizing her by the upper arms, his grip tight as a vise, and Marinette cried out in surprise.

His head hung down, and he sobbed as he squeezed even harder, “No! I won’t do it! I won’t hurt them! You can’t force me!”

She ignored the pain in her arms and called, “Chat! Please wake up! It’s me, Marinette!”

“No!! I’ll never hurt Marinette! Not ever!” he cried in a quivering, desperate voice; then he groaned and hissed in pain, in a way she could only describe as the sound of someone being tortured.

“I’m here, Chat! Marinette is here! You’re safe at home! You’re having a nightmare! Open your eyes!”

He seemed to respond slightly, his hold on her slackening somewhat, and she took this chance to slip completely out of his grip. She threw her arms around his shoulders and he seemed to go limp. She whispered into his ear, “Shhh… It’s just me… You’re okay… you’re safe now. Everything is going to be fine. I’m here to help. Don’t be afraid...” She began to rub his back, making long strokes up and down his torso, hoping that touch would help to awaken him.

Her calm reassurances and rubbing of his back continued until Chat’s hyperventilating stopped, and he slowly seemed to come to. He let out a shocked gasp and threw his arms around her.

“M-Marinette?! Marinette!! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he cried, and she felt fresh tears drip onto her sleeve.

She cradled the back of his head. “Chat! Why in the world are you apologizing?!”

“For everything. For being so weak. For being nothing but trouble for you ever since I came into your life. I never meant for all this to happen. It would’ve been easier for you if you’d left me in that alley that first night. It would’ve been easier for you if you hated me, just like everyone else.”

“Minou, I could never hate you,” she reaffirmed fervently, which only made him sniffle harder. “No matter what you’ve done or what mistakes you’ve made, you are deserving of love. You’re a good person, and more people love you than you might think. Things will get better. I promise.”

She held him as he continued to cry quietly, the pair still wrapped in each others’ arms in the otherwise silent darkness.

After a while, she dared to ask, “You don’t have to tell me what it was about, but… How often do you have these kinds of dreams?”

She felt him hesitate, unsure of whether he should divulge this information; but a few seconds later, he relented, and answered in a small voice, “I’ve had vivid nightmares every night for as long as I can remember, ever since I became Chat Noir. But I haven’t had one this bad since before I moved in with you guys. And… I’ve always been able to wake up on my own.”

“Oh, Minou…” she lamented, then kissed the top of his head.

He sniffled a little, rubbing her arm up and down gently in silent apology. “Marinette, I’m sorry to ask, but… c-could you stay? Just for a little longer? I-I don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Of course, Minou. I can stay.”

“Oh, Mari… I was so scared,” he cried. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Never.”

She closed her eyes so she could lower her head and kiss his forehead, barely able to contain her affection for him; immensely relieved that he’d finally calmed down. They situated themselves in the bed, arranging themselves into a position that would be comfortable for them both, and she was careful to avoid looking directly at him. He nuzzled into her, hugging her waist, and thanked her quietly. She ran her fingers through his still slightly damp hair, hoping to help him get as relaxed as possible.

Before long, she noted that his breathing had finally slowed, and she was content to watch his torso rise and fall in a tranquil rhythm until, eventually, she too was lulled into a restful slumber.

Meanwhile, outside the slightly ajar guest bedroom door, a certain baker pursed his lips in dismay... and regret.

------

Discordant Sonata Music Youtube Playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLcYhk0HianmrUJWi61Hkbux08qc9oCTdB  

[ficsnroses]

Pregnancy Headcanons - John Wick x Reader

❧ may be read as a follow up to these.

warnings : pregnancy. smut. morning sickness mention. mega fluff.

words : 2.3k. requested by a lovely anon!

notes : remember ages ago when I said I’d whip these up? I did em! I couldn’t fit all my ideas. lemme know if you’d like to see another one of these with a similar concept. feedback appreciated as always! 

I love headcanons. so easy. so carefree. so much to say. don’t forget that you can request headcanons, too! not just full fics or drabbles.

A few weeks ago, John and you found out you were pregnant. Initially, it’s been slightly frightening to know that in a mere nine months or so, John and you will have a baby, a little human, who’s entire world you two will be, and they will be yours in return.

You’re more frightened, being the one carrying your child. You have your fears of not being good enough, or not knowing how to be the utmost perfect mother you can be to your baby.

John, however, is ecstatic. He’s frightened as well; he’s never done this before. Yet, he keeps it under wraps for you. For you, John always puts on a brave face and holds your hand each step of the way.

He goes out of his way to make sure you’re comfortable and well taken care of. So far, your belly isn’t even showing; but there is life inside. John has always treated you as a queen, but it has intensified tenfold after he got you pregnant.

Not a dish in the house is allowed to be washed by you, not a cloth may be touched. John wants to you relax and take it easy, focus on yourself. He truly believes that as long as you’re happy and healthy, the baby will be too.

John has always been an absolute sweetheart; nonetheless, since you’ve gotten pregnant, he’s only gotten lovelier. Many times, you fear you’re dreaming, and may wake up soon. John Wick is quite literally;

too good to be true.

Each morning, he’ll nuzzle into your chest, smiling a goofy grin.

“Morning, beautiful.” He whispers into your hair, peppering soft kisses to your temples and forehead. “And to you too, peanut.” He smiles, heavy hand rested to your growing tummy. John never misses an opportunity to tell you how much he loves you, and your baby. Despite them not even being here yet. He knows that this pregnancy will take a toll on you; he’d wish for more than anything that he could carry the pain instead of you, which is why he showers you with love. He’d never want you to forget how important you are; how much you mean. You’re his entire world and this means more to him than you can imagine.

Morning sickness has been tough. Often, you’ll wake up feeling nauseous, however, you feel secure knowing you have a team player on your side. Occasionally, in the middle of the night when you’re up at 3:00am feeling awful, John helps you out of bed, holding your hair up for you and rubbing small, soothing circles to your back in the washroom.

“I’m going to make you ginger tea, alright babe?” He quietly speaks, leaving a speckled kiss to your shoulder as you freshen up. You feel awful keeping him up this late, John always needs rest due to his gruesome job.

Foot rubs and massages get a lot more common as your tummy grows. John doesn’t mind, he enjoys the intimacy and being close to you.

Speaking of intimacy…

You continue having sex for as long as you can, because you both know that down the road, as your hormones continue to fluctuate and your belly grows, it may not be something you’ll be able to do often.

John and you do, and always have had sex often for as long as you’ve been together. It helps John ease down, calm his nerves and relieve tension. You don’t mind making love to him either, of course. You feel lucky to feel him so close, and to be the only women who feels him that way.

“Close your eyes, Squish,” John whispers a chuckle, a delicate kiss placed to your bare belly, just where your baby rests. His heavier hands gently peel off the fabric of your bottoms, full lips trailing lower, soft kisses pecked to your inner thighs as he nears your heat. “Daddy’s about to do some real nasty things to mommy.”

You’re not sure if its just your hormones, or delicate emotions as of late. Nonetheless, having sex with John has felt…closer since you got pregnant. It truly feels like you’re making the sweetest of love each and every time. He kisses you so sweet, works you so slow, so intimately, so tenderly, it brings tears to your eyes.

Having him inside feels unreal, divine. He only picks up pace nearing climax, his expertise, skill and unmatchable affection never failing to spill you over the edge so well.

As your belly grows bigger and bigger a few months in, going places, and moving is becoming increasingly tough. Grocery trips have become progressively more tiresome; car rides gradually more uncomfortable. John tries his hardest to help, and understands if you snap at him a little too quick or accidentally pick a fight over something minor.

“Can you turn the music down? Please?” You interrupt a serene drive home from the market, voice coaxed with irritation, laced aggravation tinted across all tones. John’s hand rests to your thigh as he drives, his other placed to the thin steering wheel. You’d been complaining about discomfort the entire morning; he felt awful knowing you were in any sort of pain.

“Sorry.” He sighs, hand shifting from your thigh to crank the stereo of his beloved Mustang 69’ down. Passing traffic winds roar outside, the New York buildings passing in towering lengths. John’s palm immedietly rests back to your thigh; smooth, gentle strokes ran across the fabric clad to your lap. His eyes stay focused to the road, yet his hand stays touching you, letting you know he’s there.

That he’ll always be there, no matter how frustrated you get, how intolerable your nagging becomes.

He loves you, and he loves his baby. He’s waited far too long to have this; normalcy, something his, something his own; something created out of love, familiarity. Something he’d lacked for far too long.

“Ugh.” You exhale, after a moment of stretched silence, hand coming up to rub your weary eyes. “I’m being awful, aren’t I?” You whisper, saddened eyes locking to your husband’s street bound orbs. He turns momentarily to lock eyes, a gentle smile your way.

“No, sweetheart.” He assures, grip on your thigh tightening. You groan, rebutting. “No, John. I am. I’m sorry.” You sigh, reaching both your hands down to your lap to engulf his, holding his hand in a soft grip. You rub the top of his palm, relaxing, playing with his sturdier fingers. “I love you. I really do.” Sincerely, your eyes stay focused to his well defined features, the dark beard that rides his cheek.

And to the sound of your guilty voice, John chuckles, securing your hand in his, before brining it up to his lips for a soft kiss.

“I know.”

John has come to all your ultrasound appointments; he wouldn’t miss them for the world. He holds your hand the entire time, signature goofy smile daubed to his smoky features.

The first ultrasound was incredibly emotional, you shed a couple of tears. John and you stare at the screen, a pea sized dot resting in the darkened frame. John’s hand holds yours so tight, so warm, you’d felt as if you could feel him within you. Like he was this significant, big part of you that you would cherish forever. Seeing him smile that day will be a sight you’ll never forget; a mural you’ll never surrender.

Through out your time together, over the timeline of your love, you’ve only seen John this way a handful of times. This happiness was different; held something sole, matchless. This was pure happiness, where nothing else tinted the depths of his thoughts. No insecurities, no doubts, no ghosts of his past. Apart from the day you said yes to marrying him, and the day of your wedding, you don’t remember John ever being this unconditionally, purely, happy.

You both sit on the couch later that night, John’s arms holding you close as your head lays to his broad chest, staring, smiling at the picture of your dream; the one that would conquer your entire hearts when they’d come.

John keeps a copy of the ultrasound picture in his wallet. He takes a moment to look at it, to remember what he has any time he needs a pick me up throughout the day.

John takes amazing care of you, your needs always before his. He monitors your eating and drinking, to make sure you and the baby are healthy. He gives you your supplements; you often forget the times throughout the day you need to take them.

Speaking of food…

Midnight cravings have become a usual for you. Normally, you suffice for waddling down to the kitchen, sure not to disturb your snoozing husband.

Gently removing his arm from your waist, you always smile a gentle, loving glaze his way. John sleeping is a sight you’ve come to adore over the years.

John at peace; is a sight you’ve come to adore. He deserves rest, he deserves peace.

Although, its tough not to wake John. More often than not, he’ll find you in the kitchen in the AM dark, smiling a cheeky grin as you devour left over dinner, or a questionable choice of midnight snack.

He’ll come up behind you, wrapping his arms snoozily around your mid, hands placed to your tummy. With a gentle kiss to the back of your head and his warm chest pressed to your back, his sleep thick, honey seared voice rasps a tender baritone in your neck.

“Hungry?” He’ll chuckle, quiet and warm. You only nod, lacing your hand to his that rests on your belly.

Of course, there have been rare nights where you crave something that isn’t in the fridge. John never turns you down, however. No matter how tired, how sleepy he is, he ventures to your local 24-hour market, or gas station in search of whatever you’d yearned.

“Should I come with you?” You bite your lip, pulling the comforter of your shared bed higher up your chest as you sit up. “I’m sorry I’m making you go out.” You frown, insecure. “But I just can’t stop thinking about how I just need a candy bar right now.”

John’s brown leather jacket shrugs onto his shoulders, and his lips smile your way, picking his wallet up off the night stand.

“Get some rest, sweetheart. I’ll be quick.” He whispers, a kiss to your forehead before he’s out the door, blinking away sleep dense orbs.

For you, he’d wake a thousand nights. A million slumbers may waste away.

Slowly, you build the nursery for your baby. John works away, painting once crisp white walls into something more pastel, something that would welcome your child with joyful colour.

John has definitely become more talkative over the pregnancy.

He never misses out on a chance to kiss your belly, or talk to them.

“I’ll be back soon.” He announces, car keys armed in his sturdy fingers. With a kiss to your lips, he smiles. “I love you, don’t forget it.”

“Hurry back please.” You frown, a light whine coated to your tone. John only nods, slightly dropping to his knee in front of you, a quick, brief kiss placed to your tummy. “Keep mommy company, squish.” He tells your belly, a quiet, barely audible ‘daddy loves you’ Fled into the air, before he’s up, his hold on your hand let go as you walk him to the door, wishing him a wonderful day with a final kiss to his cheek.

You shop for cribs, toys, decorations all together. John looks incredibly handsome building the crib, painting the walls, asking exactly where you wanted everything to be placed. You watch him from your rocking chair in the corner, a hand to your belly as you talk to John the entire time, about anything, and everything.

John is a wonderful listener. Together, you two often talk about your future. A future where you’ll move away somewhere out of town,

Somewhere closer to the water, down the road. Somewhere where John’s ghastly pasts wont haunt him no more; somewhere you’ll grow old together with a white picket fence, and a story.

Your story, that you’ll tell you grandkids someday, when you’re old and gray, slightly slower; but still, hopelessly in love.

John adores talking to the baby. On secluded, rainy evenings, or when the sun sets out the mauve horizon and the trees bid goodnight to cotton clouds, John and you lounge on the couch, a thick, heavy novel equipped in John’s palm as he reads to you, and your tummy.

With his head resting on your lap, you stroke his lengthy coffee mane, fully engaged, lost in his mélange voice; smoky and rich, beautifully saccharine. Your thumbs coax his tired temples; gently scratching his stubble ridden cheek when you please. Every now and then, John’s glowing eyes peer up, glossing over your features.

He looks lovely like this, at ease, immersed in art.

To you, he is the loveliest of art. He’s a story, he’s a piece of Neverland. He’s your love story, and it’s one,

for the ages;

your love is one for the ages.

Sometimes, he’ll fall asleep this way, head resting in your lap as you stroke his hair. Him and the baby rest together, so close to you.

This was what it meant to have true, wholesome, pure, purpose. To have security, to have something truly, only, yours.

They were yours.

Pregnancy would be tough. It would be a journey, things would change, you would change. But you weren’t scared, for a single moment.

Because you knew, that you had your dream, your mountain of a man beside you, holding your hand,

Each step,

Of the way.

And you knew, you knew well. That the day your baby comes, they will have the most amazing, wonderful father who loves them, and their mommy to the ends of the world, and back.

You’d felt love before, you’d had everything before.

But with this, with what you’ve made, with John; it falls incomparable.

He’s the love that made all the others,

Irrelevant.

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

My taglist will be posted in reblogs, let me know if you want to be added or removed! :)

[abrunettefangirlnerd]

New Years

One-shot

Pairing: George x reader and Draco x reader

Prompt: You’re dating Draco but aren’t happy in the relationship. You’re spending New Years Eve at the burrow, and with your best friend George Weasley. George just so happens to be in love with you.

A/N: This is a change from my normal fandom writings. Hope you enjoy!

I watch as the Weasley’s fuss over each other’s new year resolutions. Every year they all come up with something they want to accomplish the next year. It is more of a muggle tradition but Mr. Weasley loves the idea, and the rest of them decided to go along with it. The twins become so passionate as they explain the plans for the joke shop that they finally have enough money to buy. Molly’s worried look lingers behind her eyes at the possibility of  their dream not panning out. She is one of the most loving and caring mother’s I have had the pleasure to meet.

My eyes focus on the fire and my thoughts wander to my boyfriend, Draco Malfoy. He was staying with some family nearby where I live to see me over the holidays. Though strangely, in the week he decided to stay I only got to see him twice. I planned both of them, and he didn’t bother to see if I wanted to meet on Christmas or Christmas Eve. He wanted to go back home for New Years. But he hates being home, it’s something I just can’t understand.

Most of my life I wanted to finally have a boyfriend. I always watched the couples in the halls of Hogwarts with a longing heart. Any muggle romance book and movie just continued to make me more picky of who I wanted. Least that is what my friends have always said. Somehow wanting a man who is also my best friend is asking too much. Where we want to spend a lot of time together, but can stand being without each other. I can’t stand clingy, but I do want some attention.

We talked a bit over the summer and went on a few dates. I really liked him, and I thought he really liked me. School starts and we can’t see each other as much, which makes sense. Now anytime we communicate or make plans it is because of me reaching out. I hardly feel like I have a boyfriend these days. Even with my little experience I know I need to talk to him about it, but as soon as the topic is brought up he states he likes the arrangement and then changes the subject. Leaving me with the unspoken words left on my lips. Maybe I am just asking too much?

He is walking me back to my front door after hanging out with some of his friends. We aren’t holding hands, which I think I should want. But this whole night I haven’t wanted to be touched. At some point we ended up at a restaurant and every once in a while Draco’s hand would rub against my upper back. The first time we hung out this week he didn’t touch me till our hugs goodbye. I wonder if the very little interactions has put me off from wanting his touch.

“What is just so great is that you don’t need my attention.” I try not to react. Instead I think about what he has said about his exes texting him until he would answer. “My mom agrees. You’re so independent it is really nice. Oh by the way I’m heading back home in the morning.”

“So you won’t be here for New Years?” I sneak a glance at him to see if he’ll realize. Draco’s face remains neutral, perhaps not realizing that boyfriends and girlfriends usually spend that holiday together.

“Nope, though you’ll be fine.” Draco shrugs his shoulders like he is so sure that I wouldn’t care. I open my mouth to ask why he can’t stay but I’m cut off by him talking about something Blaise said earlier tonight.

Standing in front of my front door and wonder if he’ll try to kiss me, I wonder if I want him to kiss me goodbye. What kind of girl doesn’t know if she wants her boyfriend to kiss her? Her first boyfriend. I thought I’d be giddy.

“Have a good new year’s.” Draco wraps one arm around my waist in a sort of hug. He then heads down the stairs and into the night.

My thoughts are interrupted by a certain red head twin sitting on the arm of the chair I am occupying. George peers down at me with a worried expression. He has quickly become a close friend over the last few months. I’m good friends with Lee Jordan and have known George for a few years. Since dating Draco I’ve seen a bit less of them to make Draco feel more comfortable, but I still hang out with them quite a bit. Have helped devise a few pranks.

“Your mum took the news well I see.” I smile hoping he’ll see my mask and not my conflicted eyes.

George came to me a little while ago saying he has a crush on a girl, but she has a boyfriend. He has been talking to me more often, answering my owls faster than Draco who lives closer. The way he describes this girl, sometimes I think it may be me. Every time that thought crosses my mind I shake it away. There is no way I am the girl. He talks like he is in love, that this is the one and he wants to tell her soon. Do I want it to be me?

“Everything okay, love?” George whispers close to my ear and I instantly nod in response.

“Just thinking about some stuff.” I say, trying to be as vague as possible.

Our conversations about this girl, and just things in general, has me wanting to talk to George more than Draco. George tells me stuff he hasn’t told anyone, other than Fred, and I can barely get Draco to tell me anything about himself of substance. I know Draco’s life at home isn’t great and has put up some walls. But I’ve also known Draco my whole life, we haven’t always been close but I’ve tried to show him that I am here. He won’t let me in and I am getting exhausted of trying with no encouragement or attention from him.

“Where’s Draco?” George asks as he fixes a strand of hair behind my shoulder. A warmth spreads across my face and I have to stop myself from smiling. “Isn’t there a New Year kiss tradition?”

“He went back home.” I manage with little emotion.

“Hmmm,” George’s small smile fades. “Well aren’t we lucky then. We get you this year.”

Hermione turns up the radio and music radiates through the Burrow. In the corner of the living room, I catch Mr. Weasley putting out his hand asking for a dance with Mrs. Weasley. The biggest smile lights up her face as she happily accepts his offer. Their arms wrap around each other as they disappear to their own world. A small dull ache flies through my chest. I finally have a boyfriend but I still feel lonely on holidays.

Through the room I watch people pair up. Ron with Hermione, Ginny with a surprised Harry, Fred even invited Angelina. I think George noticed the coupling up because his posture stiffens slightly. He takes a deep breath before pushing off the chair arm. I find him standing in front of me with his own hand out toward me.

“Would you care for a dance, (Y/N)?” George smiles causing you to smile. People say laughs can be contagious, but his smile is more contagious than anything I’ve ever experienced.

I place my cold hand in his and join him a few feet from the chair. The faster song is finishing up and another song quickly takes its place. Awkwardly, I look at George to see if he still wants to do this. There is no hesitation in his movements, and before I know it his free arm is wrapped around my waist. He pulls me in a respectable distance but you can see some nerves peaking behind his eyes.

He sways me back and forth, nothing special. Every once in a while he will twirl me, remembering how much I liked that during the Yule ball a year back.

A memory of Draco seeps in your mind. Back a few months ago Draco tried slow dancing with you spontaneously. It felt strained, like it wasn’t something he would try to do. I gave him points for trying and remembering how I love to dance. It was a one-time occurrence. I’ve tried to randomly start dancing around him in the hopes he would join in and loosen up, but no such luck. I decided that it just isn’t going to be one of our things.

Even with the initial awkwardness, dancing with George feels natural. Like this is how things are supposed to be. He pulls me back in from a twirl and I rest my head on his chest. I feel a twitch of his muscles and pull away realizing that I am out of line. I am with someone else. It must have just been an impulse right? People normally rest their heads on their partner’s chest, dancing partner that is. That’s it.

“No, it’s okay.” George whispers.

Even with his assurance I restrain myself. I keep my eyes focus on everyone else in the room. I see the way that Ron’s eyes sparkle as he watches Hermione smile as he twirls her. Even Harry seems to be enjoying himself. I know he is technically with Cho but I know he will end up with Ginny. Though I may be biased cause I just adore Ginny.

“If only the timing was right.” I say to myself.

“What?” George’s voice has hint of alarm.

“I’m talking about your siblings, Ron and Ginny. Ron is totally into Hermione, and Ginny has had a thing for Harry since she was eleven. But I don’t think Ron and Hermione are there yet, maybe a year or two. Harry is with Cho, for now. I can see Harry getting his head screwed on straight someday and realizing what has been right in front of him.”

George’s thumb rubs circles against my waist, sending a shiver up my spine. I really need to get a handle on my feelings. I don’t want to hurt George if I’m using him as an emotional filler for my absent boyfriend. On the side of things, I need to figure out if I should still have my boyfriend.

I take a mental note to remind myself to write him in the morning about constituting a weekly date night. It doesn’t have to be anything extravagant. A nice walk with good conversation would suffice. I just want quality time. I need to see if it is possible that I still want to be with him.

What about George? I sneak a glance up at him. He looks perfectly content, slow dancing in silence. His gaze fixed on the snow falling outside the window. My mind wanders to the past letters of conversation we’ve shared. He wants a girl to sit on the porch with during a thunderstorm, one to help carry the kids to bed when they’ve passed out on the couch.

_______ flies through my open window with a letter hanging from her beak. Getting up from my bed I make my way over hoping it is finally from Draco. I told him that since he is going to be in town during his birthday next week that I could spend as much time with him as he wants. I sent that owl, among two short ones about a week ago.

Getting closer though I recognize the address written in George Weasley’s handwriting. I let a sad smile escape my lips as I ignore the annoyance toward Draco building up. Do other girls have to try so hard to get their boyfriend’s attention?

Sitting back on my bed I take a deep breath and open his letter. A giggle stirs in my throat as I take in his messy handwriting. Recalling a time I had to help a professor decipher an assignment of his. They wanted to fail him purely on the untidiness of his letters.

“My Dear Y/N

First off, I have to tell you that in the envelop is a Weasley family Christmas card. My mum wanted to make sure we sent you one.

To answer your last letter. I agree that some girls are expecting a prince charming. Though I think some blokes aren’t willing to treat their girl like a princess either. If I somehow end up with this girl I like I want to try and give her everything she deserves and more.

I want us to carry the kids up to bed after they’ve passed out on the couch. To give her a porch she can read her books on and we can watch storms. I know we could fight like the world is ending but make up just as fast. Randomly dance with her in the kitchen as we make dinner. Make sure we get a date night a few times a month, because you should always date each other.

I am sure (Y/N) that you will find your prince charming. And that you are someone’s princess.

Love, George”

Choking on my breath, I struggle to breathe for a moment. How could any girl say no to that? It sounds like he is about ready to marry this woman one day if given the chance to love her. I feel my heart race at the small possibility that this could be me. Closing my eyes I allow myself to imagine it, everything in his letter.

Little kids running around with shiny red hair, jumping on furniture before calming down to a sleep. Me and George watching from the doorway, trying to be as quiet as possible in hopes of not waking them up. The two of us scooping them up in our arms, carrying them up the stairs into their rooms.

I’m reading on the porch. Book in hand on an outdoor couch with a blanket draped across my legs. A drum of thunder sounds off in the distance as a light rain begins to fall from the sky. Shortly after, George pokes his head out the front door with his signature grin. He asks if he can join me, like every time even though the answer is always yes. George lifts my feet up as he takes a seat and drapes them over his lap. We sit there in silence for a few moments before I slide my body over on his. I tuck my head in the crook of his neck and his arms wrap around me. Occasionally whispering about something funny the boys did, or a legendary prank, about what we love most about each other.

Snapping back to reality I groan as I think of how terrible I am. I am Draco Malfoy’s girlfriend and I am fantasizing a life with George Weasley. There is no one worse than me.

The song ends and I take the opportunity to put some space between me and the ginger. Noise crackles from the radio about the countdown. He announces that we are less than sixty seconds away from midnight. The girls squeal in excitement and Hermione quickly explains to Ron and Hermione about the muggle tradition of kissing at midnight. Of course this was explained earlier but the boys weren’t listening, as usual.

Ron and Harry agree to kiss Hermione on the cheek, but I notice the slight pink hue added to Ron’s complexion. Yeah they are definitely endgame material. Fred and Angelina take a seat on the couch, leaning into each other with the biggest smiles. They will definitely be a pair kissing at midnight.

An overwhelming, but familiar, sadness floods my chest as I take in the fact that I am alone for the New Year countdown. I make my way to the front door to get some fresh air. If I miss the countdown maybe the loneliness won’t feel as strong. It’s not that I miss him. To miss someone means that I had the opportunity to have them in my life in a way that is almost impossible to replace. Closing my eyes I can pretend that I am anywhere else perhaps even in a different time.

“Can I join you?” George’s voice appears from behind. I open my eyes and look up at the stars before nodding my head.

He slowly occupies the space beside me. His warm hand lightly brushes against my own and I have an overwhelming urge to hold it. Before another thought, George does it for me. Fingers intertwine together and I allow my head to rest against his shoulder. Shortly I feel his head rest lightly against my own. He presses a soft kiss to the top of my head causing tears in my eyes to form. Why can’t I figure this out? One problem at a time (Y/N). Figure out how I feel about Draco first.

“FIVE!!”

Their voices filter through the windows causing me to jump from George’s hold. I take a deep breathe remembering where I am.

“FOUR!”

Their shouts get louder and George calling my name gets lost behind their chaos.

“THREE!”

George steps in front of me. His gentle gaze looks onto my paralyzed eyes.

“TWO!”

My eyes flicker to his lips and back to his eyes. I watch him do the same.

“ONE!! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!”

George’s hand cups my cheek. He leans down as I push up on my toes and circle my arms around his waist. Our lips meet in the middle in a soft and delicate kiss. Showing how scared we are to push our boundaries. Suddenly the cold air enveloping my body disappears and is replaced with this invigorating heat. Starting up in more core, spreading through my limbs and I know George feels it too.

His free hand strokes my hair as he pulls me in close. I reciprocate by pulling him in as well and I can feel the kiss become feverish. Our lips move together in a dance, perfectly mirroring the other’s. His lips are soft and warm, gentle. I can’t help but feel like we were made to fit with each other. That there is no one else we were made for.

Draco. His blonde hair, pale skin, and rare laugh filters through my senses. An overwhelming pressure fills my chest and I can’t breathe. I pull away from George and all the warmth escapes me. Chills run up and down my spine, one right after another with no recovery time. My breath won’t escape past my throat and I can’t manage to breathe in enough to make a difference. I look down at my hands and find them shaking along with my legs and suddenly I am on the snow covered ground.

“I think this is the one.” Draco tells me what Blaise said about us. I hear his voice to the left, but as I turn to look I see nothing but the darkness.

“My mom asked me if I could see you being the one I marry.” Draco’s voice is now to my right. Turning my head again I see nothing.

“This should end in marriage,” it’s Pansy’s voice now. “I’ve been wanting you two together for so long.” Coming from her that is a big complement.

All these people believe that me and Draco are it. The couple that ends up spending forever together. That makes each other happy, who gets married, makes a family, and eventually dies together. But all I feel is completely and utterly alone, even when with him. As far as I can tell he doesn’t feel the same. He likes our arrangement. All these people are counting on this, counting on me to make it work. Have I tried enough? Am I enough? I can’t disappoint them? But could I in turn disappoint George?

“(Y/N),” George’s gentle voice breaks through the noise in my head. I can feel his warm hand on my shoulder and I cling my hand to his. His touch grounding me to reality. “Stop thinking about what everyone wants. Forget about your friends, Draco, your family, and even me.”

His other hand rests under my chin and guides me to look up at him. To look into his beautiful shinning eyes. The eyes that can always look into my soul and never show judgement when others would. He nods his head, signaling for me to do what he says.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I see my friends before me, lined side-by-side. I watch as they progressively appear smaller and smaller, until they are so far away I can’t see them. I do the same with my family and Draco. Seeing George swallowed up by the darkness almost causes me to ache. But he is soon gone too and I am left alone to my mind.

“Think about what you want.” George’s voice sounds far away even though he is right in front of me. As if one of us is underwater and the world around is muffled. “Imagine what will make you happy. Picture what is worth being upset about. Think of what you are willing to fight for. Take your time, and when you’re ready open your eyes.”

I picture myself sitting by the fire with a book in my hand, snuggled up with a blanket. The radio playing in the distance as a waft of the delicious dinner being made in the kitchen. Sleepiness pulls at my eye lids as a pair of smooth lips grace my forehead. He hands me a cup of tea and I watch the steam roll off and into the surrounding air. I can’t see who the man is. His face is fuzzy, confirming that I am not quite sure who I want.

Now I am in the kitchen making dinner. The radio fills the room as two arms circle around my waist. He turns me around and pulls me close to his chest. We don’t speak, instead we enjoy one another’s presence as our bodies drift through the kitchen.

Next I am on the bathroom floor with tears streaming down my face. My throat is raw from our argument. Of shouting over each other as we cried through it. We’ve been fighting recently about his long hours, only wanting to hang out with the guys, and not helping much with the kids. I watch the tears fall down his face and I have an overwhelming urge to hug him. I want him to know how much I love him, how much I want him, that I need him. That I want him to love, want, and need me back. And I do. I head over to him and hug him. At first he is shocked and then hugs me back. We both say we are sorry for hurting the other and decide to work this out.

The only thing that is missing is his face.

I open my eyes and I finally feel the cool wind blow against my tear-stained cheeks. George is still in front of me. I have no idea how long we’ve been in this position but judging by my cold legs it has been a while. Color lights up George’s face as his body attempts to keep him warm, and I suppose mine appears the same.

“Don’t decide now. Think about it more. I want you to be happy, (Y/N). If you choose him, or to be single then I’ll back off. I’ll be your friend if you still want me to. If you choose me though, I will do everything I can to make you happy.” He wipes away fresh tears from my cheeks and places an innocent kiss on my forehead. “We should probably go inside. I don’t want you getting sick from the cold.”

He offers me one of his hands and I gladly take it. As he opens the door the warmth from the fire hits me in the face and I know things will be okay. I will send an owl to Draco in the morning about needing more. I’ll see if he is willing to establish a date night, and see how I feel about him after a few of them. Because of the others I can’t give up without believing I tried. I know if I decide to break up with him that I’ll want to be single for a little while. Straighten out my mind better, make sure I can be what George deserves. And I’ll let him know that, and that he doesn’t have to wait around for me. Even though I’ll secretly will want him to.

What would you decide to do?

[jaskiersvalley]

I must be some sort of sadist, some of my favorite fics of yours are of hurt/comfort kind 😂 I've been thinking about miscommunications as a prompt a lot. Geralt and Jaskier come from such different worlds, and lets face it, geralt can be a bit.. harsh at times. And though Jaskier has a thick skin, I can't help but think that some of the words might go through. The idea of Geralt accidentally making Jaskier cry makes me just sdfjkdsfl

You have the key to my heart, Nonnie. Because that is such a painful prompt and today seems like a great day for this. I got thinking about this and then got a little derails. It’s easy to think about what Geralt could say to make Jaskier cry. But I wonder whether what he doesn’t say might be a bit more potent.

It was a given that Geralt was an absolute arse. He’d often managed to open his mouth without thinking it through. That was a trait from childhood, he had grown up without having learned that his words could cut deeper than he had meant. That something he said out of frustration and would forget about could haunt someone else for the rest of their life.

That wasn’t to say he didn’t also give out praise. In one breath he would be berating Eskel for forgetting to salt the pork for dinner but a minute later he’d be asking him to spar because he wanted a challenge.

It was all things Jaskier listened to, fascinated. He particularly liked Lambert’s reactions. Whenever Geralt insulted him (at least five times a day, it was like it was a requirement for their health), Lambert would bristle and bark back an insult. Yet, if Geralt ever told Lambert “good job” over anything, the younger witcher would go quiet, grumble some weak insult under his breath and scuttle away.

All winter, in fact, all the time Jaskier had known Geralt, he had waited patiently for some scrap of praise to be thrown his way. A “nice song” or “good set” or even something simple like “your company isn’t shit” would have sufficed. Jaskier didn’t need constant adoration or validation. In fact, he had resigned himself to the fact that Geralt was incapable of it until they went to Kaer Morhen. There, Jaskier heard first hand the praise Geralt was very much capable of dishing out. To be fair, Jaskier had heard it before, murmured about Yennefer’s virtues when Jaskier had besmirched her name in a fit of jealousy.

Even Vesemir got a “dinner was exceptionally filling” after a meal he had cooked. Slowly, Jaskier began to wonder whether it was him who was flawed. Maybe Geralt truly didn’t see anything good in him. Which begged the question of why Jaskier was even at Kaer Morhen. Maybe he wasn’t more than an annoying bed warmer to pass the season with.

In an effort to not think about it, and maybe impress Geralt and the other witchers, Jaskier began trying really hard to be good. He helped where he could, cooking, laundry, cleaning. Nothing got a good word out of Geralt. He’d even taken to playing in his own room, away from an audience, hoping he’d be less overwhelming. In fact, Jaskier had even written a new song, a lullaby that might be soft and gentle enough to be appreciated by witchers. Wishing to show them, Jaskier took his lute down for the first time in weeks. After dinner he pulled it out and strummed the first chord.

“Not now Jaskier. We don’t need your warbling,” Geralt growled. “If you insist on making a racket, please spare our ears. Not everyone can value the cheap mass pleasers you seem so irrationally fond of.”

The insults about his musical styles Jaskier could have taken. Being told he warbled and made noise was nothing new either. But everyone had a limit and Jaskier had hit his. He had tried so hard, worked to please Geralt but nothing seemed to make a difference. Biting his cheek, Jaskier nodded. His eyes burned and his breaths didn’t seem to want to smooth out. Turning, he left without a word, knowing that the salty scent of tears would betray his emotions anyway.

“Is he really crying?” Geralt asked Eskel and got a cuff to the back of the head.

“Idiot!” Came the hissed reply. “We told you. Now look what you’ve done.”

“What’s he done?” Lambert wondered in from the kitchen, having finished the washing up. “And who the hell as been crying in here.”

“Jaskier.”

Lambert’s “ah” made Geralt snarl.

“He knows he’s good. His ego is big enough without me stroking it!” He wasn’t whining but there was definitely a defiant note of desperation to his voice. “It’s not like I know anything about music anyway.”

Vesemir finally decided to butt in and dispense a bit of wisdom. “Yet, when Jaskier tells you you did a good job on a contract you preen, do you not?”

There was no way Geralt could argue that it was different, that Jaskier had seen enough of his fights to know what was good and what wasn’t. Because Geralt had heard enough of Jaskier’s songs so he could say the same thing.

“Go and apologise, pup.”

It was how Geralt found himself in front of Jaskier’s door. He could hear the soft hiccoughs of stifled sobs and smell the misery that emanated from within. Knocking, he waited for the sound of a face being scrubbed and a wavering “who is it?” before stepping in. Jaskier had obviously tried to hide the fact that he’d been crying but his eyes were red, lashes clumped together with tears.

“Geralt,” Jaskier straightened up. “I’m not sure I’m feeling up for any after dinner entertainment, sorry.”

A polite way to say he wasn’t in the mood for a fuck or even helping Geralt get off. Geralt knew that too and he shook his head.

“I’ve heard you writing the song,” he said. “It’s nice.”

It was the best he could do, not having had time to prepare anything better. Not that anyone else got something more creative out of him. However, he could try to one up himself, even if he didn’t use words. Bundling Jaskier into his lap, Geralt snagged the lute too.

“Would you play it for me?” He helped Jaskier get comfortable in his arms and pressed a kiss of encouragement to his neck. Slowly, Jaskier began to play and Geralt held him close.

[couldyouimagine-that]

Honestly dude, idek. This just came to me. Not really any warnings, but there are mentions of alcohol and it takes place in a club/bar. A Boba x Reader songfic using Shape of You by Ed Sheeran.

Masterlist

-

You began tapping your fingertips against the table yourself and your companions were occupying when the live band started playing Shape of You. You were lowkey keeping an eye on a tall, dark haired man across the dancefloor from where you were sitting. He was the latest target you were after, one Boba pointed out to you and in fact a bounty Din had been told about by Karga a few days ago. Your heel started tapping to the uplifting beat without your permission, something Boba raised a silent eyebrow at from his place next to you. You gave a half shrug before jumping up just as the lyrics started up.

“The club isn’t the best place to find a lover, so the bar is where I go,” you sang, voice drowned out by the music blaring through the speakers around you. Your words were directed at Boba, though you glanced at the bar just off to the side to play along with the song. He rolled his eyes in response. “Me and my friends at the table doing shots, drinking fast and then we talk slow.” You offered a wide grin to Din and Cara at this point, the Mandalorian’s helmet moving in such a way that you suspected it was hiding a knowing smirk and Cara just displaying hers openly. Fett’s own helmet was resting on the table in front of him, visor facing out to the room and making his broad figure all the more imposing.

“Come over and start up a conversation with just me and trust me, I’ll give it a chance.” Your gaze was back on Boba now, who was having absolutely none of it. Your feelings for bounty hunter were by no means secret among anyone, but he was playing hard to get. That was fine; you were more than capable of doing the same.

“Take my hand, stop, put Van the Man on the jukebox and then we start to dance.” You started swaying your hips to the beat just slightly, a hand you knew would be ignored outstretched towards Fett. If the music were any quieter, you might have heard Din scoff behind his visor, gaze very firmly fixed on his two close friends. Him and Cara had been working (scheming) for ages to get you two together, but it turned out to be Boba who wouldn’t make the move. They came to the same conclusion you had; this was a game for him and he was dragging it out as long as possible.

“And now I’m singing like-” You cut yourself off, retracting your hand only to gesture at the bounty hunter, clearly signalling for him to pick up the lyrics. He refused point blank, watching your movements with a neutral expression. “You’re no fun!” You yelled over the music, a teasing grin over your lips. In the absence of a response, you continued singing. “Say, boy, let’s not talk too much, grab on my waist and put that body on me.” That was accompanied with a calculated swivel of your hips. “Come on now, follow my lead,” you started walking backwards, hips jutting out to each side like you were on a catwalk, then you spun sharply and continued stalking towards the centre of the dancefloor. There were a few people already on there, but that didn’t bother you. “Come, come on now, follow my lead.” You continued singing, commanding the attention of the room, confidence practically rolling off of you in waves. You stopped right in the middle, eyes surveying the crowd now waiting to see what you did next. One very specific set of eyes were boring into your back.

“I’m in love with the shape of you,” you were exaggerating all of your movements now, your whole body seeming to become part of the lyrics flowing around you. “We push and pull like a magnet do.” You threw your hands forwards and backwards to emphasize that. “Although my heart is falling too, I’m in love with your body.” You had gained a fair few people’s attention now, making you pretty confident that your plan would work. “And last night you were in my room,” you spun around, gesturing randomly into the group of onlookers, “and now my bedsheets smell like you. Every day, discovering something brand new, well I’m in love with your body.” You punctuated the following ‘oh’s’ in the song with precise flicks of your wrist, hips moving to match. You moved back towards the other side of the floor with a bit of fancy footwork, eyes locking on one particular person.

“One week in, we let the story begin, we’re going out on our first date.” You reached out to the man whose attention you had been trying to get (quite successfully done if you did so yourself), eyebrows lifting to suggest the lyrics were about him. He gave a wide smile in return, between surprised and pleased. “But you and me are thrifty, so go all you can eat. Fill up your bag and I fill up a plate.” He started walking towards you, his own hand starting to reach out. You took it and pulled him onto the dancefloor, close to you but not quite touching.

“We talk for hours and hours about the sweet and the sour, and how your family’s doing okay.” Your whole body was swaying, and you kept eye contact with your apparently willing target. “Leave and get in a taxi, we kiss in the backseat,” you blew him a chaste kiss, “tell the driver make the radio play. And I’m singing like-”

“Girl you know I want your love, your love was handmade for somebody like me.” Your face lifted in joy as he sang the lyrics, voice a deep baritone that was barely audible beneath the pounding music. “Come on now, follow my lead, I may be crazy, don’t mind me.” He glanced off to the side in faux disappointment, the warm grin ruined the effect entirely.

“Say, boy, let’s not talk too much,” you lightly tapped his chest, then grabbed his wrists. “Grab on my waist and put that body on me.” You put his hands on your waist then yours on his shoulders, now dancing as a couple like you had known each other for years. You offered the onlookers a bright wink and a raised eyebrow in your current partner’s direction as if asking if he was the one. The cheers you got in response certainly sufficed as an answer. “Come on now, follow my lead. Come, come on now, follow my lead.” You moved close to his chest then, arms around his middle and dancing over his spine, trailing to just above the back of his belt.

You sang the chorus together, you easily matching the footwork he came up with. You had to admit it; he was an excellent dancer. During the first set of ‘oh’s’, you faced each other, hip movements matching and exaggerated once more. On the second, you spun sharply to repeat the movement with the man at your back, then you both spun so you were behind him on the third repetition. He turned a third time to face you once more as you continued matching each other’s footwork, some of it fairly complicated and receiving some appreciative cheers from your accumulated crowd. “Come on, be my baby, come on.” His fingertips trailed over your jaw as he pretended to ask you genuinely, you making a show of considering it in return. You carried this on until you reached the last chorus.

“I’m in love with your body.” You twirled a few times, his hand well above your head with how tall he was. “Every day, discovering something brand new.” You came to face him one final time, arching your back and leaning back, him leaning over you to give a dramatic end to your routine. “I’m in love with the shape of you!”

You grinned as you looped your arms around your partner’s neck and let him pull you upright once more, offering your adoring crowd kisses from your fingertips. You walked off of the dancefloor together, still standing close when you stopped. Your chest was heaving but you kept up your grinning.

“Hey, can I buy you a drink?” He had a fairly strong Southern accent now you could actually hear his voice. You thanked him, but declined graciously nonetheless by telling him you were just out to have a good dance. You parted on as friendly terms as possible with a stranger, then made your way through the crowd and back towards your table, hips still swaying to the beat of the next song. Someone stopped you when you were almost back to compliment your dancing, so you used that as an excuse to take the last couple of steps in reverse. You thanked her as she moved away once more, then collapsed backwards heavily into the seat of the circular booth surrounding your table, pressing yourself firmly into Boba’s side. He turned his head towards you almost immediately, but made no further move. You didn’t look at him either, gaze on Cara as she gave an impressed whistle.

“I had no idea you could dance like that,” she said with a smirk which you quickly returned. Boba gave a quiet cough next to you, but rather than meet his gaze, you stared out over the dancefloor, noting your partner had well and truly disappeared. With that, you held up a hand in front of Boba and dropped both an ID and security card onto his lap.

“That guy wasn’t actually the target,” you murmured, sitting close enough to the mandalorian’s side that he heard you speak. “He was part of the security detail, and the one we’re actually after is very much not here.” You saw Cara and Din share a glance from the corner of your eye, but Boba still said nothing. You couldn’t help the slight twang of disappointment you felt at that, after all the trouble you went to for the sake of getting information which was at least in part for him. You waited a minute in the growing silence before shifting your body just slightly so you could see the bounty hunter from the corner of your eye, though the indignant “Well?” you were about to give was well and truly cut off.

Fett’s hand moved to cup your face, one finger trailing lightly over your throat first. You were still panting a little from the dancing but you were sure he wouldn’t believe that for a second. Your eyes widened in spite of themselves and the wicked smirk he threw you was enough to tell you he knew exactly why.

“Impressive,” Boba muttered warmly, the multicoloured lights projecting from the ceiling reflecting in his amber eyes. Any witty response you would have normally given died on your lips as he twisted to face you properly, his other hand going to the back of your neck to pull you in close. You rested your hands on his shoulders before you could think better of it and then his lips were on yours and everything around you simply faded into nothing.

When you finally came back to your senses, all you could focus on was Boba. He leaned forward again until his forehead rested against yours in what you belatedly realised was a Keldabe kiss, a gesture that made you lose your breath just as much as the other kiss you had shared just a moment ago. Neither of you said anything and nothing needed to be said, though eventually you were both brought back to the real world by slow clapping from Cara and a grumbled albeit good-natured “Took you long enough,” from Din.

[marvelouss-marvel]

Feelings | T.H.

Summary: Tom and Melina have feelings for one another but are lost in expressing this through words. Do actions actually speak louder than words?

Pairing: Tom Holland x OC (who’s black, so you’re welcome ladies)

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: I meant to finish this yesterday but got tied up yesterday with schoolwork. So, I apologize. This is a contribution to the Quarantine Writing Challenge created by @chaneajoyyy​ and @shaekingshitup. Thank you for adding me to my very first writing challenge. Also, I recommend you listen to “Feelings” by Lauv; it’s a masterpiece and the inspiration for this fic.

Is my love too much? Or is it just enough for you, for you? 'Cause it's getting late, would you like to stay? Ah 'Cause I'm bad at reading signs

All evening, Tom had been sneaking glances Melina. The tempered glass on her prevented him from viewing her observations but he knew it had to be either Tumblr or Twitter; both platforms had a tendency of stretching her lips to form that soft smile of hers he’d grown to adore over the last few months. On top of that, she would hold her phone up to his face once in a while to grant Tom the chance of witnessing what made her snort.

Although secretly watching her was simple, Tom found it difficult to prevent his thoughts from skedaddling all over the place like ants running from human feet. He was attempting to gather the courage in revealing his true feelings to her but a second of his mouth opening effected the various “what if” scenarios he created.

His ringtone for Harrison went off, pulling the two best friends out of their silent world. Tom reached for his phone on the small coffee table but paused his actions once he noticed the time. “Uh, Mel?”

“Hmm…?” she hummed. She was quick to retreat back into her personal bubble.

“You do realize it’s 2 in the morning, right?” Tom continued.

“W—” Melina paused her video on Twitter to pull the control center down on her phone. “Crap! I gotta go!” She stood from the couch to begin gathering her scattered belongings.

She was right that she needed to leave… but Tom didn’t want that. Sure, they hardly spoke to one another for the rest of the night after watching the 2-hour long Netflix film but he wanted her company a bit longer. In addition to that, it was too early in the morning for him to be questioning her whereabouts.

A lightbulb went off in his head but it was the idea itself that rapidly pumped the blood to his heart. “You know… you can stay the night?”

Melina scoffed. “Tom, no. We’re not having this discussion.”

“Um, yeah we are. It’s late Mel. And I don’t want you out.”

“I know how you feel, dad, but I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl.” She slightly rotated her head to wink his way. The irony of her statement was that she was petite for her age. Most of their friends were five-foot-five and above while Melina was often mistaken for an elementary student trying to fit in with the “big kids.”

Tom shook his head, even though she couldn’t see him. “Melina, no. Stay the night.”

“And miss the comfort of my bed? I don’t think so but thank you for the offer Tommy.”

Before Tom knew it, he was taking long strides to the front door and snatching her leather coat off the coat rack before her arm could reach out. Melina only raised one of her perfectly shaped brows she managed to do on her own in response.

“Okay?” she voiced. “What’re you doing?”

In that moment, Tom realized how much of a freak he perceived himself to be. He resembled a robot by shoving the item in her direction for her to take. “Um, I think it’s too late. And, I was wondering if you wanted to stay the night? It’s just I worry about you as your friend this time of the day.”

It took her a moment to respond but once she finally gave him his answer, he subtly released a breath he didn’t remember inhaling.

“You know, if you asked like that in the beginning, I would’ve said yes.” Melina smirked as she slid off her shoes. “You’re weird sometimes.” She left him by himself, claiming she needed to use the restroom.

But I, I wanna do whatever you wanna do If you wanted to, girl, we could cross that line

Even after two years of living in London, Melina continued to struggle in socializing. If she wasn’t lounging around in Tom’s apartment, the best friends were at the hottest club with their group of friends. No bad blood existed between her and the others; it was just the environment they chose to reside in for the evening.

Tom always noticed this quiet side of her. How she seemed to shrink in posture with slumped shoulders, even though she was gorgeous in her club attire. How she practiced her nervous habit of fiddling with her hands when it wasn’t her to turn to talk yet. How she sidled up against Tom every chance she got if people (mainly men) needed to squeeze by in reaching their destination. To tell you the truth, Tom found these adorable and made it a mission to protect her every time they went out.

The group had split a few minutes prior with Melina and Tom making their way to the bar. After constant begging, Melina hit the dance floor. Tom and the others cheered her on for three songs until she grew tired and yearned for some water. Like the unspoken bodyguard he was, Tom followed her.

“That was fun.” She began. “I haven’t danced like that since my family reunion.” She flagged the bartender down with a raised palm. “Excuse me, can I get some water?”

The woman behind the counter nodded with a smile and proceeded to fix the drink. Melina didn’t hesitate to grasp the foggy, clear glass and chug a large amount of the cold liquid down her throat.

Tom chuckled. “And when was that?”

He watched her chocolate eyes shift to stare at the ceiling in deep thought. “Like July? Of 2018?”

“Aren’t those every year?” he wondered. Last time he remembers having this discussion with Melina, she stated her family met up in the middle of July at one of the local parks every year.

“Yeah but, my parents didn’t go last year and don’t plan on going again this year. I gotta ask my mom again w—”

The sudden pause in the short story encouraged Tom to look up from the bar and into Melina’s eyes. Only, she was looking beyond him with an expression representing discomfort.

“That guy’s been eying me all night. I don’t like it.” she disclosed.

Tom swiveled around in his seat to find the man she was talking to. His eyes were able to pinpoint the stranger instantly searching for another area in sight to claim for straing. “Oh yeah?”

“Mmhm.” Melina affirmed with a nod of her head. She gazed at the back of her best friends head, praying he wasn’t thinking about making a scene. That’s the last thing she wanted for him. “Hey Tom?”

“Yeah Love?” His eyes were back on her, softer than before when he reversed the role of eying the creeper.

Melina only pursed her lips in embarrassment. After the first club incident where an intoxicated man approached Melina and Tom stepped in to play the role of a protective boyfriend, it had become an unannounced habit to cozy up with one another to ward off the eyes of complete strangers. Still, Melina was anxious in requesting his form of rescuing.

“Come here, Darling.” Tom urged. One of his arms wrapped itself around her waist to twist her body so her back faced him. That same arm also maneuvered her to sit on his lap like a child posing with Santa Claus for a picture.

At this point in their friendship, Melina considered Tom to be her second home. Her immediate family lived thousands of miles away, calling her when they could on Whatsapp and bringing a smile to her face. Tom provided her the same form of comfort just about every day now that her life was here in London.

Realizing this, Melina rested her back against his chest as if he were a pillow. This was temporary but, she couldn’t help but want a little more.

But I feel 'em in my chest A tiny war within But when I pull you closer Girl, I can't explain

Two months had passed but that didn’t stop the two from growing closer in physical contact. Behind closed doors, Tom did more of pulling her into his side when sitting on the couch and for some odd but cute reason, Melina felt the need to straddle his lap when presenting exciting news.

Today was Melina’s hair day and she needed help taking out the box braids she had installed over a month ago. If she took the braids out herself, it would’ve taken longer due to how exhausted she was again from another rough week at work. So, Tom was her next option.

“Sorry if I ripped you away from any plans you had.” She apologized for the fourth time that day.

Tom scoffed. “Darling, how many times do I have to tell you to stop apologizing? I’m currently on break from work and trust me, I’d rather be here than at my place by myself. Haz went out with the crew and I wasn’t up for that today.” He explained. “Besides, I’d rather be here with you.”

A tiny smile sufficed, which didn’t match the beating of her heart that suddenly felt as if it was trying to crawl out of her chest.

“Putting these in looks hard but taking them out? Different story.” Tom commented.

“You’re telling me. Which is why I have other people do it for me. I knew a girl who installed similar braids herself but… it didn’t really come out right in the back. I think it was her first time.”

“Reminds me of the first time Harry tried giving himself a trim.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. We ended up giving him a decent buzz cut.”

Her giggle had now become music to Tom’s ears. Whether it be her speaking, crying, or laughing, Tom wanted to record her voice and carry it with him for his travels away from home.

Home. She was now home to him. But how could he reveal that truth to her when his feelings ran deep and he didn’t want to ruin what they had?

He continued to remove her braids in tranquil silence while Melina pulled out her iPad to play a few levels of Homescapes. The further he moved up her head, the more Melina relaxed against his torso by slouching.

The close form of contact affected the temperature of his armpits. Tom was currently stuck on the level of Friendzoning where physical contact with Melina affected how his body responded to her touches. From sweaty armpits to a beating heart, Tom felt powerless in controlling his reactions. And it didn’t help that her head rested above his heart.

It was six-thirty when Tom was pulling the last braid from Melina’s natural hair. She was just shutting her eyes at this point with her iPad turned off and cradled under arms like a student on her way to class. Slumberland grasped her conscious mind once Tom’s fingers began massaging her scalp. Sure, it was dirty but it was necessary her head receive a good kneading from someone aside from herself.

“Feel good, Love?” he whispered.

She hummed in satisfaction. “I need this.”

And I know, and I know that it's on your mind That it's on your mind when I kiss you But I wanna do whatever you wanna do

“I like you. A lot.” Tom panted.

It was the first thing he blurted to Melina as soon as she opened the door to her apartment. He looked as if he’d ran the whole way with his disheveled hair, slightly wet face, and drenched-in-sweat T-shirt he the threw on.

“What?” Melina whispered. Her heart and mind were hoping he meant what he meant.

“I like you a lot. And I mean that as in I have a major crush on you. I have for a while.” He elaborated in between breaths.

Melina ushered him in with a wave of her hand. “Come in, Tommy.”

He stepped over the threshold into the warmth of her apartment. His nose immediately picked up the scent of seasoning for her famous enchilada’s. The ceiling lights were dimmed to create a relaxing vibe. Behind her living space, the tiny dining table was blanketed with a cream table cloth and a vase of flowers stood in the middle of it.

“I just had a good day today, that’s all. I wanted to give myself a bit of a celebration.” She weakly explained. This moment in particular was something she anticipated for the longest but not in the manner of her appearing to set up for a date that wasn’t with Tom. “Um, so you like me?”

“Yeah, I do.” He moved his eyes away from the setting to fully look at her. Her digits were fiddling with one another again and her eyes landed on the space between their feet. Tom rested his hand over hers to lace their fingers. “I just think you’re… beautiful inside and out. You make me happy every time I’m around and… and I just wanted you to know.” He braced himself for the next part. “But, if you don’t feel the same that’s totally fine.”

She chuckled. “Why wouldn’t I feel the same?”

He knew what she was doing. Things could get awkward when Tom had these truthful moments with people. She wanted to ease his feelings through jokes. “Darling, c—”

“I’m being serious. Why wouldn’t I feel the same about you, Tom? You’re everything I like in a guy. Fine as hell, sweet, funny, and all in all: a gentleman.”

They were holding direct eye contact now, a smirk resting on Melina’s lips. She was the one who eventually leaned in connect their lips. Eyes closed, Tom’s arm snaked itself around her waist to pull her closer while both of Melina’s arms wrapped around his neck.

He moved away first, resting his forehead against hers. “Is there room for one more person for your celebratory dinner.”

“There’s always room for one when I’m having a good day.” She giggled as he leaned down to peck her lips again.

[inspired-by-the-music]

For You: Stand By Me

Taglist: @jineunwootrash @angels-from-california @jayjaydawn

If you would like to be added to the taglist of any of this blog’s works, please ask!

Recommended Reading: For You: 4 O’Clock; these works have separate, independent, but deeply interwoven timelines.

Chapter 11: The Girl Who Held My Heart

Sehun’s POV

Apparently, Manager Kim hosted an annual Christmas party attended only by Super Junior and whatever group she managed through debut or comeback. I only learned about it when EXO was invited. 

It had been over a year since Lei’s birthday party, where I learned that I had somehow fallen face-first in love with her. In that time, I figured that there was no escaping her— not when we worked at the same places, not when she was scattered through many of my memories, not when I had developed the habit of holding my breath until the next moment I saw her. In that time, I busied myself with the almost impossible task of telling her about the feelings that I couldn’t understand. In that time, I decided that maybe feelings aren’t meant to be analyzed and forced to abide by strict logic. 

So I walked into her house a year and a half after running from the fire in her touch with her gift in the pocket of my black blazer and three heartfelt words on the tip of my tongue. Those words had been dancing precariously on the edge, threatening to dive whenever I saw her backstage at Music Bank, whenever I saw her at company parties, whenever I saw her picture on social media, whenever I scrolled past our most recent text conversation. 

From the moment that I walked through the door and saw her— heard her singing some song with Yesung in the middle of the living room— I knew that I wouldn’t be able to bite them back again. Luckily, I arrived prepared to tell her anyway. 

I guess you could say that I had a one-track mind focused solely on speaking to Lei. Being new to the world of complex intimate emotions, I was hesitant to discuss them where anyone else could overhear. 

Finding a moment alone with Lei at that Christmas party proved even more challenging than securing her attention at the pool party. In the uncommon event that she wasn’t goofing around with Yesung, who must have been her favorite member of Super Junior, she was whispering something to Lucas, who was invited to the party even though he wasn’t a member of Super Junior or EXO. If she wasn’t with Lucas, then she was engrossed in conversation with Donghae, or she was drinking tea in the corner with Ryeowook, or she was helping Leeteuk and Shindong with their gingerbread village. 

An opportunity to speak with her privately presented itself when she walked into the kitchen, at Leeteuk’s request, to retrieve more gingerbread cookies from the oven. Forgetting to appear cool or somehow indifferent, I left Junmyeon, Baekhyun, and Chanyeol by the punch bowl in the dining room to follow after her. 

I filled the doorway, gasping when she hissed as she gripped the tray. I watched her jump away as the tray clattered to the ground with a metallic clank. Disappointment flickered through her eyes as they lowered to count the ruined cookies sprawled across the dark tiled floor. 

While she threatened to spill tears over a batch of cookies, I could only think about the burn to her fingers. As if it were a life-and-death matter, I ran to her, kicked the tray aside because it stood in my way, and took her hand into mine. 

“What are you doing?” Lei eyed me curiously as I tossed her red oven mitt onto the counter to assess the faint, almost non-existent blisters on her fingertips. 

Knowing that the glove had absorbed most of the oven’s heat, I still turned the sink’s faucet and guided her hand under the stream of cold water. “It’s called first aid, Lei.” I avoided looking at her because everything in me screamed that this wasn’t the time to confess, and meeting her eyes would force the words out involuntarily. “You’re hurt, and I’m trying to make you feel better.” 

“It doesn’t really hurt, though,” she said. “It only burned for, like, half a second, but I guess that’s all it took for me to ruin Leeteuk’s and Shindong’s cookies.” I could hear her frown even when I couldn’t see it. 

Despite her insistence that she didn’t need my help, Lei didn’t pull her hand out of my grasp under the water when it would have been all too easy. I held her gently, afraid to prod the injury. She didn’t flinch away from my touch even when I brought her fingertips to my lips. Her breathing hitched, but I didn’t recognize that sound as an expression of pain (maybe) because I was inclined to believe that she felt as I did— that she came to life when we touched. 

I hated to let her go, to feel that distance between us again, but there was no excuse to cling to her once she pulled her hand away from mine. I glanced at her for the briefest second, hoping for some sign that she wasn’t rejecting my affection, and I was disappointed to find that her gaze was already fixed on the floor. 

She dropped to her knees in her white dress, apparently unafraid of soiling it. She used her hands to sweep the gingerbread men back onto the tray, I assumed, to later drop them into the bin in the corner of the room. I lowered to help, and— unable to shake the thought that she looked like an angel in her white dress and golden halo headband— I blurted into the deafening silence, “You look beautiful.” 

Tray in hand, Lei rose to her feet first. In the moments before I towered over her again, she stared down at me in utter astonishment. I guess I can’t blame her. That was the first time I had ever been so direct in complimenting her, and I had done so without warning. I hadn’t even meant to say anything; it was just too true to leave unsaid. 

In a small voice, she asked, “Why are you saying that?” I wondered if she was blushing under her makeup. I wondered if she fought to press her ruby red lips into a frown. 

I hadn’t expected her to swoon at my every word or anything, but— 

No. Maybe I had come to expect that sort of reaction. I expected her to brighten at my compliments not because they defined her or because I thought so highly of my own opinion, but because— because that’s what she had always done. The frown that stared down at me was so far from what I anticipated or dared to dream about that I know my face burned a humiliated shade of crimson. 

Lei hadn’t rejected me— at least not outright— yet I hesitated to find my footing. Like a fool, I couldn’t look away from her long enough to make my way to the garbage can, so I dropped my handful of cookies onto the marble countertop. 

When Lei raised her eyebrows, and I realized that she expected me to answer her question, I stuttered, “I— because—” I couldn’t tell her that I loved her when she was looking at me like that. I bit down on my tongue. 

I don’t know what I would have said if Chanyeol hadn’t sauntered over to us, nearly tripping over his own two feet. 

“Isn’t this just adorable?” His words slurred together. Because he spent the entire night drinking from the punch bowl that Baekhyun spiked, Chanyeol reeked of alcohol. “Why don’t you two just kiss already?” 

From his place between us, Chanyeol slung one giant arm around me and the other around Lei, and he tried to force us together. I don’t think I have to tell you that I didn’t want Chanyeol to be the catalyst or witness of our first kiss even if he was too drunk to remember the details. Still, I didn’t resist his efforts with half as much frantic energy as Lei did. She writhed and frowned as she swatted Chanyeol away. 

Breathless from her aversion to kissing me, I fixed my gaze on the fragmented cookies on the counter. “Cut it out, Chanyeol.” I didn’t know that my voice could get so quiet. 

“No!” Chanyeol shook his head wildly. He must have made himself dizzy; when I glanced at him, his eyes were crossed. Leaning against Lei and nearly knocking her over, he rambled, “I don’t think he’s ever gonna tell you, so lemme just do it. Ya know, he’s been keeping us all up at the dorm, rehearsing his speech about love and rain and cotton candy—”

Suffice it to say that I hadn’t expected anyone to have overheard the confession I spent months preparing. Considering how much time, effort, and genuine emotion I had poured into putting my thoughts into words, it was insulting to hear Chanyeol summarize them in his drunken state. To tell you the truth, I would have been humiliated had Chanyeol— or anyone, for that matter— spoken about my feelings in a sober well-intentioned state. They were my feelings, and I had gone to great lengths to embrace them, and for somebody else to try to speak about them with authority and ease—

I dug my elbow into his ribs, and Chanyeol burped. “And I just knew that he was talking about you because he’s always had a thing for you even though I don’t know what he sees in you—”

As annoyed or upset or furious as I was that Chanyeol had once again diminished my love for Lei to the phrase ‘a thing,’ my concern deepened when he acted on his habit of insulting her. Although Lei didn’t so much as blat an eyelash or show any sign that she was affected by Chanyeol’s monologue— her frown had leveled into an apathetic line— I pried him off of her. 

Chanyeol laughed, I assumed, at having pushed my buttons. “That’s not true.” He smiled at Lei for the first time. That’s when her stone exterior started to crumble. Brow furrowing as a dimple formed in her chin, she took a step away from him. That meant she also took a step away from me as Chanyeol claimed, “I never really hated you.” 

Lei didn’t believe him. I could tell from the way she blinked and swallowed some lump in her throat before training a hardened glare on him. She looked so angry at a glance that I almost expected her to yell at him or at least say something. Upon closer inspection, however, I realized that she was chewing on the inside of her cheek and tears were welling in her eyes. 

I caught the briefest glimpse of her tears before she piled all of the cookies onto the tray and carried them over to the garbage can. While her back was turned, I took the opportunity to haul Chanyeol out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and through a door marked with an Avengers poster— Lucas’s room. 

Despite his claims that he wasn’t that drunk, Chanyeol collapsed onto the bed. As if he was without a care in the world, he folded his hands behind his head atop Lucas’s pillow. Something about that sight sickened my stomach. 

“I don’t really care if you’re drunk,” I seethed, knowing well that he was at least tipsy. I closed the door in the hope that none of our conversation would flood into the party below. “You couldn’t have picked a worse time to fill Lei’s head with a bunch of crap.” 

Waving a dismissive hand, Chanyeol argued, “Everything I said was true.” 

“That’s not the point!” Chanyeol flinched at my roar not because he felt any degree of guilt, but because he probably had the beginning stages of an alcohol-induced headache. Pinching the bridge of my nose as I pressed my back against the wall, I stuttered, “I— just— is everything a joke to you or something? I get it. You hate her—”

Again, Chanyeol said, “I never hated her.” 

“Right, whatever.” I rolled my eyes. “If you’ve known all along how much I love her— if you knew that I was planning to confess, then why would you step in and ruin everything? Why did you have to make everything so— so—” I didn’t know the right word to say, so I decided to ask, “Why did you make everything so awkward?” 

Chanyeol said, “You should be thanking me! It was already awkward! I was just trying to take some of the heat for you!”

I couldn’t even argue because Chanyeol was right about at least one thing: the conversation leading into the confession was not going well before he inserted himself. I had no idea what I was doing. Maybe, by some bizarre logic, I should have been grateful or somehow relieved that somebody else had addressed my feelings first, but I wasn’t. 

I don’t usually consider myself a perfectionist, but it was clear to me that all hopes of having an ideal romantic moment with Lei were lost. Maybe they were lost before Chanyeol meddled, but it was easier to blame him than to acknowledge that maybe— tragically— Lei and I were out of step again. It was easier to glare at Chanyeol than to imagine that maybe Lei had finally outgrown me now that I was so desperate for her. 

My hand closed around the doorknob, prepared to slam the door closed behind me, when Chanyeol spoke up. “Wait a minute. I want to give you something.” Because I didn’t turn around to accept it, he threw the poorly wrapped box at my head. 

“Ow.” I rubbed at the injury as I picked the box up from the floor. Now sitting up, Chanyeol dodged the wad of wrapping paper that I launched at him. I rolled my eyes at the box’s contents. “Really, Chanyeol? Mistletoe?”

“Yeah,” he smirked, “to help you with your confession!”

As I shook my head, I think that my frown deepened, but my growing sense of annoyance didn’t stop me from carefully tucking the mistletoe into the pocket that also housed Lei’s cotton candy charm. 

“Hey!” Chanyeol shrieked when I launched the mistletoe’s box at his head. “You’re so ungrateful!” My hand closed around the doorknob again, and Chanyeol jested, “Think of me when you’re kissing your little girlfriend, punk!”

Gagging, knowing well that Chanyeol would be the last thing on my mind if ever I got around to kissing Lei, I closed the door and left him to fall asleep in Lucas’s bed. Kissing Lei was not a part of my confession plan when I arrived at the party, and it seemed like less of a viable option when she hadn’t even reacted well to a compliment. Still, I had to smile when my fingers brushed against the mistletoe in my pocket. I had to smile at the daydream even if I didn’t know how to make it a reality. 

Downstairs, the party thrived as if I had never been humiliated by Chanyeol’s loose tongue. By the punchbowl, Baekhyun convinced Lucas to down one glass after another, and (apparently) Jongdae considered it some kind of competition that Jongin moderated in mild disgust. Yesung and Ryeowook were the centers of attention as they claimed the karaoke machine for a duet. Siwon was helping Leeteuk and Shindong with the finishing details of their gingerbread village before Kyuhyun snuck up to pluck mints and gumdrops from the buildings undetected. In a corner of the room, concealed by the bright blinking Christmas tree, Donghae watched as Manager Kim and Heechul threw their heads back in laughter before sipping from their matching red mugs of hot chocolate. 

I think I would have approached Donghae a.) had I known what to say to distract him from his jealousy or pain or whatever emotion etched those lines in his forehead, and b.) had I not remained devoted to speaking to Lei, who was not in the kitchen, living room, or dining room. 

The way I found her can only be described as a happy accident. Under the excited chatter played an unfamiliar piano melody that beckoned me into a den whose entrance was mostly obscured by the Christmas tree. Frowning and alone, looking quite small in comparison to such a large instrument, Lei sat at the grand piano. Even when I eased into the space next to her on the bench, she remained focused on the keys. 

I was almost hesitant to break the silence to say, “I didn’t know you played the piano,” as I watched her slender fingers create music without hesitation. Whatever she was playing— she knew it by heart. 

“I’ve played since I was a child.” She sounded very much like all adults do when they place distance between their present and past selves. “Donghae taught me to play the piano and the guitar.”

“I didn’t know,” I repeated, frowning. I guess I was bitter at being clueless about a fact that was likely common trivia for fans— people who hadn’t even met her. I guess I was uncomfortable with the thought that there was more to Lei than what I had always known. 

Lei shrugged. “It’s not really common knowledge or anything. I’ve never produced my own ballad or played the piano live, so I guess this is a hidden talent.”

“Why?” Noticing the frown weighing on her lips, I frowned too. “Why would you want to keep this—” I nodded to the piano— “hidden?”

Even when she broke her concentration to glance up at me through her eyelashes, Lei didn’t hit a sour note. I don’t think she was capable of doing that. “I don’t,” she argued shortly. “The agency thinks that upbeat dance songs suit my image. My job is to perform what they write for me.” 

Suddenly, I understood why her melody was so unique. “You write songs,” I said not as a question but as a general statement. 

I don’t know why my mouth fell open in surprise. Lei was poetic— artistic— and it only made sense that she would pour her soul into something as beautiful as music. 

She muttered,” I wouldn’t want to perform them anyway.” Her gaze fell back onto the piano keys, but her hands stilled. Although I hadn’t expressed any confusion or disbelief, she explained, “It’s one thing for people to hate me for music that I’m not emotionally attached to, but what am I supposed to do if people misunderstand the things that truly reflect me?”

In some ways, Lei and I were very different people, and in moments like that, our differences were obvious. Don’t misunderstand— I loved performing, but it wasn’t an emotional outlet for me. I didn’t have as much to say as she did, I guess, so I didn’t feel like I sacrificed much to be who the agency wanted. There was probably no shortage of criticisms of me to be found on the internet, but I had never been the kind to seek them out. I guess I was lucky enough to have never cared who liked me. 

Because I couldn’t force my mind to work the way Lei’s did, I didn’t know what to say to make her feel better. I squirmed under the weight of her sadness. “Well, what if somebody loves the things that truly reflect you?”

She removed her hands from the cold keys, pressed them flat in her lap, and stared down at them. “I don’t know, Sehun. To tell you the truth, I can’t really imagine that.”

I opened my mouth to tell her that she didn’t have to imagine being loved, but I didn’t get the chance to say anything. Brow furrowing, she studied me through narrowed eyes. “I’m sorry— are we just going to act like that— that stuff— that happened in the kitchen didn’t happen?”

“Could we?” I laughed at the tingling embarrassment swelling in my gut. Lei didn’t so much as crack the tiniest forced grin, so I tried to adopt a more serious expression. “Look, Chanyeol says stupid shit even when he’s sober, so—”

“Yeah.” Lei agreed instantly with the nod of her head. “Yeah, I would have to be stupid or delusional to believe that you could ever like—” She choked on her words and blinked, wincing as if I had struck her. “Well, I’d have to be the biggest fool to ever take Chanyeol or any other boy to heart, huh?” Her lips trembled as she forced them into a smile. 

I knew that Lei was on the verge of tears, so why didn’t I explain that Chanyeol hadn’t been lying or even exaggerating to laugh at our expense when he said that I liked her? I don’t know. 

Probably because I didn’t know what to say, because I didn’t trust my voice to improve the situation, because I wanted to skip ahead to her next sincere smile, I pulled her gift out of my pocket. It wasn’t wrapped as neatly as her birthday gift because I hadn’t sought Junmyeon’s help. Still, the glittering snowflake pattern on the white paper was pretty. 

Lei accepted it, and her thumbs traced over the snowflakes. They must have been pretty to her too. Her eyes, which were already glossy with tears, widened as she lifted the small cotton candy charm out of the box. 

“I promised I would get you another one,” I reminded her, suddenly unable to stand the silence even if it was safer than conversation. “Remember when you almost cried at Puroland because your cotton candy melted in the rain, and I had to throw it away?” She said nothing until I nudged her. “Remember?”

“Yes.” She smiled this sad sort of smile that made me wish I hadn’t said anything at all. “I remember. I told you, I remember everything you’ve ever said to me.”

I hoped that the things I said— the things that she remembered in vivid detail— were worthwhile. I hoped that I was more than a memory, but more than that, I hoped that the me of the past was as good in hindsight as I planned to be in the present and future. Because I didn’t know how to express those hopes with words, I reached for her hand and fastened the new charm to her bracelet. 

Determined to create a moment worth remembering, I forced my voice into a light whisper. It wasn’t as hard as I imagined it would be. “You know, this one will never melt. You can keep it forever. Now, that day can be a happy memory.” 

Lei pulled her hand out of my grasp to wipe at her eyes. “Thank you, Sehun. This is so thoughtful. I wish I had something to give you.” 

Lei was never really content to just receive a gift. She had this idea that every favor had to be repaid and every kindness had to be reciprocated. Somebody needed to tell her that love is giving without expecting anything in return, but I didn’t know that well enough to say it back then. 

I don’t know why she stood from the piano bench, but I followed, likely stirred by the fear that she would run to someplace that I couldn’t follow or hide in someplace that I couldn't find or couldn’t quite reach. 

“I don’t need anything,” I told her as I reached for her hand again, desperate for some kind of contact— for some guarantee that she wouldn’t leave even if it was just temporary. “But I know something that I want.”

Lei tilted her head to look up at me, lips puckered as if she read my mind, knew my every wish, and decided to grant them. “What is it?” 

The idea flooded my mind so quickly that I didn’t have time to consider whether it was good. I fished Chanyeol’s mistletoe out of my pocket and dangled it over our heads. 

Lei admired it with round eyes, and her jaw dropped, and she gasped, “Is this real?”

She was adorable. All apprehension melted from her eyes, and she looked at me like she used to: like I hung the moon she loved so much. It didn’t matter that I knew I never once stood among the stars because she made me believe with one glance that I had. For maybe a fraction of a second that might as well have lasted forever, the fear of being a source of heartbreak or disappointment faded next to the blinding desire to be everything she ever dreamed of. I know desires like that don’t last forever and that no plan to completely restructure oneself for another is ever successful, but I felt it, and maybe that counts for something. 

While counting the stars in her eyes, melting at the wild imagination that I put them there, I wondered which of our many moments she remembered most clearly then. Was it the first— when she called me handsome without hesitation as only a child can? Was it the rain at Puroland since I had just revived that memory with a gift? Was it the time I told her to stop following me? I hoped not. Was it the heart I had imprinted on her hand?

I never asked, so I don’t know. 

As for me: every moment blurred together to paint the portrait of this person who was the most precious to me as I took the first step in filling the distance between us. 

Should I be embarrassed to admit that she was my first kiss? I’m not. As I told you, I was wary of everything romantic, and— although she made my heart jump and ache— Lei was the first girl I ever trusted to affect me. To move me. Maybe she will be the only one. Of course, you can never be certain about these things, but I cannot imagine that anyone else will ever hold the heart that she cradled in her hands for those moments that our lips touched— the heart that followed her even if it could only do so in the quietest shadows. 

I’m lucky that nobody in Super Junior caught us because I swear I kissed her for an eternity, forgetting as my heart hammered in my chest that we were never really alone. A miracle happened. I forgot that somebody is always watching, and I never quite remembered again. Or maybe I didn’t care who saw my admiration. Maybe it wouldn't have been the worst thing for somebody to see who truly mattered to me. 

When the moment ended, I didn’t want to let it go. That’s foolish, I know, but that’s a mistake everyone seems to make at least once: clinging to time whose only instinct is to flee. Ever evasive time. Ever fleeting time. Why do we try to cling to things that were never ours? It’s foolish, selfish, futile, but I understand why. It’s one of those things that you can’t explain; it’s the kind of knowledge that you only have after experience. I hope you never understand why. 

I opened my eyes first. I couldn’t bite back joyous laughter at the sight of her. She wasn’t even doing anything. She was just standing there, hands balled into fists at her sides, eyes closed. 

Her eyes snapped open at the sound of my laughter. I was too embarrassed by my outburst to meet her gaze. The silence was deafening and deepening my burning blush, so, dropping the mistletoe back into my pocket, I tried to make conversation. 

“So, was that your first kiss?”

She didn’t respond, but the answer was all too obvious. 

“It was, wasn’t it?” My cheeks hurt from smiling. 

She still didn’t respond, and I still couldn’t look at her. 

“Don’t be shy.” Like I was some expert in romance and affection, I told her, “You were good at it.” 

By then, her silence was making my stomach tighten in knots, but I wouldn’t ruin the moment by expressing anything other than happiness. I tried to joke or flirt or say anything to fill the silence. “You should be proud of yourself.” 

I finally looked at her. I think I winked. Then, I really couldn’t face her. “You just kissed the handsomest person you’ve ever seen.” 

At that, Lei didn’t even giggle. When I glanced down at her, she didn’t spare the tiniest smile. She must have been in shock. 

“I bet you wanna forget all about your dating ban, huh?” I asked, entirely too hopeful that she would break her silence to say ‘yes.’ “Just for me?”

I never got to hear Lei’s response— if she even held one behind her blank facial expression— because Minseok beckoned me to his side in the doorway. He said, “We have to leave.” 

“What?” I frowned. Having no intentions to leave when the night was young just because Minseok said so, I asked, “Why?” 

Flatly, Minseok answered, “Because Junmyeon said so.” He likely assumed that I would say nothing to challenge our leader. 

“Junmyeon?” My frown twitched. “I saw him earlier, and it looked like he was having a pretty good—”

“Stop arguing, Sehun!” Minseok rarely lost his temper, but his outbursts were always terrifying. 

I glanced back at the piano to see if Lei was watching him berate me as if I were a child, but she was nowhere to be found. Within seconds, she vanished. My heart sank. I had taken for granted that she would wait for me as she always had. Reasoning that the kiss was perfect, I never seriously considered the possibility that I had done anything wrong. 

Remembering that I spent much of my life running from my feelings, I figured that Lei was similarly afraid. Then, because I didn’t want to scare her or push her too far, I left with Minseok after dragging Chanyeol out of Lucas’s bed. For some reason, I clung to the belief that everything would work out in time even after Minseok tried to correct me. 

On the drive back to our dorm, he said, “The kiss was cute,” and I was still too ecstatic to be embarrassed that there had been a witness to such an intimate moment. 

I was still too numb with joy to care when Chanyeol, who had been laying on his back in the backseat, sat up to yell, “You kissed her?” I wasn’t even annoyed by the smirk that he must have donned when asking, “You used my mistletoe, didn’t you?”

I was still smiling like an idiot, tracing my fingers over my lips, when Minseok continued, “But everything you said afterward—”

As I finally caught on to his harsh tone, my smile started to falter. It started to crumble around the edges. I looked at Minseok and shrank under his piercing glare when he broke his gaze from the darkened road before us. I think it must have been raining. I remember turning away to watch raindrops race down the window. 

Minseok tried to speak softly, but his anger/disappointment was still all-too-audible. “I get that you’re new to romance and all, but you can’t just make fun of Lei whenever you get embarrassed.” 

“Embarrassed?” My eyes narrowed in confusion. “I wasn’t embarrassed! Well, maybe I was a little embarrassed when I laughed—”

“You laughed?” I could hear Chanyeol’s frown. Looking back, I think that’s when I should have considered Minseok’s point more carefully. 

Instead, I jumped to my defense. “It wasn’t like that! I was just happy, and—”

“Ah, I got it!” Chanyeol clapped his hands on the back of Minseok’s chair. “You were just being a big dweeb again! Relax, Minseok. Sehun just turns into a big giggling dork whenever he’s around his little girlfriend.”

Shrilly, reaching a pitch that made me and Chanyeol cringe, Minseok argued, “I will not relax!” Minseok cleared his throat with a sigh. “Whatever your intentions were, Sehun, you really hurt Lei’s feelings. I watched her eyes get watery, and—”

Because I didn’t want to believe him, I wouldn’t even let Minseok finish the sentence. “I was just kidding around.” 

Minseok nodded. “Right. Well, I’m telling you that Lei doesn’t know that. I called you away from the piano because I knew that she was about to cry, and—”

“What?” My eyes cut away from the window to dig into Minseok. “You said that Junmyeon wanted us to go home. You lied to me?” 

Minseok’s face turned pink in the moonlight. He repeated, “Lei was about to cry!”

Chanyeol gasped, “You came between Sehun and his girlfriend?” 

Minseok tried to explain to my furious blush and scorching glare, “I didn’t want to discuss this where anyone at the party could hear! I’ll take you back to the party, Sehun, if you promise to apologize, and—”

“Apologize?” I gaped at Minseok, almost laughing although nothing was funny. “Why should I apologize? I’m not sorry for kissing Lei, and I’m not sorry for flirting afterward, and—”

“You’re not sorry?” Minseok’s brow furrowed. Something about the way he looked at me took my breath and voice away. “Even though you hurt Lei?” 

Speechless, I shook my head, determined to believe that I hadn’t hurt Lei— that I hadn’t ruined what should have been a happy memory. The problem is: in hindsight, I can admit that Minseok understood Lei’s feelings better than I ever did. 

[vapcrwaves]

━♡ guess the 24 YEAR OLD JULY baby just arrived to dallyeog! it makes sense, because AOKI IMOJEN is just as BLAZING as the month of JULY. wait, why do they remind me of HIRAI MOMO? beyond that, they seemed SELF-RELIANT & BUOYANT upon first glance. i heard someone say they’re sort of INSURGENT & RECKLESS though. i hope they get acquainted here in COMPLEX # 3 / APARTMENT # 2 / FLOOR # 2 ; they seem to have a lot going on with HER job as TATTOO ARTIST / BASSIST. 

bonjour , y’all !! my name’s jade ( she/her , twenty-one , gmt+8 ) !! and i’m super excited to meet and write with everyone !! this is my spunky kid , imojen , and i hope you’ll come to enjoy her as much as i did writing everything about her :D if you wanna plot , do not fret because i’ll be dropping in everyone’s IMs hehe , but if you prefer to plot over at discord , don’t hesitate to tell me !! <3 

*   𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊   ╱  ʙᴀꜱɪᴄꜱ   .

name  :  aoki imojen  nicknames  :  yoki , jen . age  :  twenty - four . birthday  :  july 27 , 1996 . zodiac  :  leo sun , aquarius moon , sagittarius rising . place of birth  :  tokyo , japan . currently living  :  seoul , south korea . occupation  :  tattoo artist , bassist . pronouns  :  she / her . orientation  :  bisexual biromantic . ethnicity  :  japanese .  spoken languages  :   japanese , korean , english .  character insp.  :  kat stratford from 10 things i hate about you , bridget vreeland from sisterhood of traveling pants , effy stonem from skins uk , young carol rhodes from gossip girl tv series , rhonda smith , mia’s backstory from if i stay . label  /  tropes  :  hoyden , icarian , insurgent , reveller , the rebellious spirit . pinterest  :  here .  aesthetics  :   scared of commitment , but has 7 tattoos. a habit of endlessly lighting a lighter. platform boots to boost your height. but then again, sneakers for comfort while running from the cops. forgetting to discard empty cigarette packets from your bomber jacket. spilling your fifth espresso onto your drawings and designs , maybe it’s time to sleep. a frightening look on your face which millennials like to call a resting bitch face. the heat ruining your collection of leather jackets. finding comfort in your friends who seem to understand your mood swings. having a pet cat who’s as feisty as you. spontaneous adventures live inside your head and your friends fall victim to those ideas. liking the rays of the sun more than the moon despite being a night owl. oversleeps anyway. trimming your bangs yourself because you couldn’t be bothered to go to the salon. overcooking your sunny side up eggs. sleeping to forget problems. drinking to forget problems. epitome of a ride or die. 

*  𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗    ╱  ᴘᴀꜱᴛ   .

aoki imojen was born to understand what it was to live a life with no structure. her father was part of a rising band in the 90s, toured all over small venues in japan that they slowly rose to a known local name, and imojen has seen all the chaos unfold from backstage in the arms of her mom. however, slowly transitioning into the year of 2000s, the economy was still struggling from the lost decade and the income from touring never sufficed for a growing family. imojen’s father was forced to leave the music scene with the help of her mother’s influence: “it’s time to be serious”; and work multiple jobs in order to fully provide for his first child and the another growing one inside his wife’s womb. 

growing up, imojen’s no stranger to music and her father loved to introduce rock music and bands to imojen’s upbringing. she adored b’z and the gazette, and it leaves no doubt that imojen’s father had been her greatest influence in life. as she grew older, not only did they share identical music preferences and influences, but imojen’s learned to play various instruments— the bass being her favorite. imojen’s also stemmed from that infamous reckless behavior his father’s known for back in the day, and when the teenage years came, so did the impetuous reputation begin. 

imojen and her mother aren’t exactly as close as she was with her father. in fact, their relationship was a toe out of the civil line. it got worse when imojen started to focus on the band she created with friends instead of school and late night practices turned to never returning home for a few days and having the audacity to blatantly lie when asked where she was when asked. it’s hard not to blame her mother when she assumed things for the worst. imojen’s gone quite defiant especially when she discovered that her and her father’s relationship had began to run askew. imojen blames her mother’s interference with her father’s music career as much as her father did, she loved him so much that she was completely blindsided to always take his side. and when the divorce papers came and went, imojen chose her father as she always would. 

her father got a job as a musician locally and eventually overseas, however, money didn’t come by so fast and easy initially. instead of going to university, imojen invested in learning the arts in tattoo design and worked as a tattoo artist to help with the bills. the pair finally thought to settle in korea when imojen’s father got a permanent job. and at this time, imojen has decided to try pursue a career as a musician as well, hoping that the thrill in her early band days are still well stored in her system. 

*  𝖘𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗    ╱  ᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛ   .

imojen can never be satisfied of living in the same area for so long, or at least under the roof with the watchful eye of her father. work’s payed well and imojen decided to move out and get an apartment of her own. hence, she found dallyeog, parties almost every single day, drags everyone into spontaneous adventures, comes home terribly drunk and wakes up with a huge hangover—well, still pretty normal. aside from the norm, imojen working at the tattoo parlor and taking gigs at bars as a bassist, imojen’s investing in writing music as well. she hopes one day to finally finish at least one song she’s been procrastinating for far too long and convince her father to make them a rock duo instead, but a band of her own would fantastic too.  

*  𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗    ╱  ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ   .

imojen looks quite mean at first glance, and it doesn’t help that she’s indifferent towards anyone who isn’t part of already her friend. she doesn’t hate, hate is such a strong word, she simply doesn’t have the attention span for people that don’t interest her or she doesn’t know fully well to enjoy a conversation with.

honestly has the gina linetti energy “how was i supposed to know there’d be consequences for my actions” as she literally does anything she wants before her brain can even weigh the pros and cons to it.

imojen enjoys taking risks despite the relaxed attitude and seemingly nonchalant view in life. it might be a surprise to learn that she’s quite ambitious, but underneath, she does aim for the highs (both meanings) in life, except there isn’t exactly a time frame for those and would much rather pursue them steadily. 

everyone can depend on imojen to have a good time, or if someone needed a friend to vent to, she can surprisingly be all ears, but never follow her words of advice. she does mean well, it’s just that she doesn’t know what she’s saying half the time and is quite reckless,, like ask her to pick between two choices and she’ll advice you to take the riskier one bc “it’s fun don’t be a prude”.

she is more sympathetic than she let on. imojen’s not very vocal especially with her emotions and on what she exactly feels about other people’s situation. serious conversations? catch her yeet away from those. they render her uncomfortable, most especially if it is about her. however, seeing her friends gloomy doesn’t sit right with her that she does anything to make them crack a smile. 

believes that people should be left to roam free and that authority is useless and ruins the fun— hence why she’d always be caught defying them. yes, she uses her brain, but acts more towards intuition and what she felt like doing that day. so yes, she might loves setting her life on the line.

*   𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖙𝖍 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗   ╱  ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ .

plastic hearts   ╱   someone whom imojen shares a passion for music with. the both of you are like peas in a pod as you both are in the same wavelengths as each other. they may not have the same types of music, but open enough to share a plethora of music playlists.

angels like you   ╱   the typical bad-good influence trope wherein imojen’s reckless behavior and liberated thoughts on legalities have gotten your muse in various dangerous but fun adventures. on a flip, your muse may be the reason why imojen’s woken up at 8 in the morning, bright, well, and not hungover.

prisoner   ╱   an angsty and toxic relationship that imojen could not get enough of. everyone sees this partnership (romantic or platonic) of destructive nature, both of you may or may not know, but regardless it can never be broke off no matter how hard both try. 

gimme what i want   ╱   the typical fwb relationship, we can add spice to it, but on the base that’s the idea. 

night crawling   ╱   imojen’s ride or die, the person she would instantly run to for an adventure, midnight strolls, alcohol escapades, and vandalism. but as things you both do burst into haywire, you’re both aren’t afraid to be open to each other too and spill secrets or bodies hidden in the closet. 

midnight sky   ╱   perhaps a new acquaintance?? friend?? that doesn’t exactly have a first good impression of imojen?? maybe vomited on your muse the first time they met, or jen was really mean for no reason under the influence of alcohol?? she’s chaotic so perhaps it wasn’t a good first meeting. 

bad karma   ╱   imojen hasn’t been exactly an angel all her life, and perhaps karma has run around to bite her in her ass. your muse might’ve been somebody who hurt imojen; either a terrible break up or severing trust, let’s explore :D 

golden g string    ╱   a band :D maybe nothing too serious, just a group of pals playing and making music together :D  or maybe the group's been playing gigs for awhile now and wants to head into the big leagues :D

honestly im so down with anything so !!!!!!

[citrusrei]

Leave a Message at the Tone.

Reader x Jimin Summary: Jimin leaves you a lil’ voicemail while he’s away on tour. Genre: Smutty af. Drabble-esque. Word Count: 2,477 Warnings: Phone sex. If you don’t like that sort of thing, do not read it lol. 

AN: idk where this even came from but uh, here it is lmao. I hope you enjoy this filth. Also, leave some feedback if you liked it! It is always appreciated <3

"Ah, fuck..." His voice became higher pitched as slick, wet sounds echoed in the background. Jimin's breathy gasps and quiet whimpers became faster and louder.

Your eyes were wide open as you sprung up from your bed, phone pressed tight against your ear as a hand covered your mouth in surprise. What the fuck had your boyfriend sent you while you were sleeping!?  

"I can't wait to be home-ah, fuck, and ins-side of you." He continued his ministries, his soft moans stirring the pot in the pit of your stomach as the visual of him, alone in his hotel bed, shirt riding up his toned chest with flushed cheeks, and plump lips lingered in your mind. You had the sudden urge to stop the voicemail now and ring him up, but he had to be asleep by now considering he was on the opposite side of the world. So instead, you honed in on the sound coming out of your phone, your own breath becoming labored as a slow ache started to pool.

"You'd let me fuck that pretty mouth of yours, wouldn't you baby girl?" He spoke again, his voice cracking at the end of his sentence and it had your mouth watering.  

Really, what was he trying to pull?! He wouldn't be home for another 3 weeks and this wasn't helping the whole distance and the not being able to touch him thing. And this, this monstrosity disguised as a blessing of a voicemail, was not helping at all.  

You threw your body down against the mattress, making sure the phone didn't go anywhere as your hand slid into your night shorts. You listened as Jimin's breathing became shallow, his voice becoming more vocal. He really must have been alone considering how loud he was getting. Not that you minded, actually, the thought of him getting caught only turned you on further.

Your hand grazed over your panties and you already started to feel the dampness seep through the thin fabric. Your neck craned and your back arched as you applied the slightest amount of pleasure and you were surprised just how weak a dirty talking Jimin could make you.

"I know you would, you'd take it so well. Ah- your lips wrapped around me, fuck. I'm getting close. See what even the thought of you does to me?" He breathed, each whimper making your heart flip and soak the measly cloth even further, "You're all I can think about, fuck I miss you. When I come home I'm going to ravage the fuck-mmph, out of you."

Okay, you weren't playing anymore. You slipped two fingers under your drenched panties, and headed straight for your clit, rubbing small circles against the little bud, creating music of your own. Your breath matched his as you flicked your wrist against yourself, his moans and mewls reaching a fever pitch as he cried out he was coming.

"Ah, fuck!" He sobbed, his aggressive strokes stuttering as his breath caught in his throat. But you weren't nearly finished.

"Would you look at this," He laughed, his breathing still heavy, "I made such a mess of myself. I better go and clean up before Taehyung comes back. Don't get too worked up, my love. Goodnight." And then the voicemail beeped, and it was done.

You huffed as soon as the beep ended. Don't get too worked up? How dare he! He knew damn well what he was doing, that tease. But, you figured two could play at that game.  

You opened the little ghost widget; Snapchat. You were going to play just as dirty if not even more so. Park Jimin was going to learn today. You threw the bedsheets off of you, and as well as your shorts before holding down the record button, winking to the camera before aiming it downwards, showing him the dark, wet patch on your underwear and running a finger over it. After reviewing the video and deeming it good enough, you hit Jimin's username and then send. You figured he wouldn't open it until he woke up, but nearly right as you sent it, it was opened.  

You waited not so patiently to see if you were going to get a response, mindlessly rubbing your aching sex before the screen refreshed, signaling a new snapchat. But not a video, or picture; just a text.

Minnie: Fuck, I see you got my voicemail 😉 send another

You scoffed at his response. Another? Yeah, he sent you a voicemail which was longer than a 10 second video, but you HAD sent a VIDEO. And you figured if he was up and able to view your snap, he could play for a bit too. So, you typed a quick response saying that that wasn't how it was going to work.

You: No no, Park. You want something, you gotta send something in return 😉

His little bitmoji popped up, indicating he had read what was sent and typing his reply which was quick and short.

Minnie: ;/  

Minnie: but tae is in the bed next to me 🙁

You: figure something out 😛  

No more than a minute passed until the red bubble appeared on your screen. A picture.

It was him, of course. Sitting on what you assumed was the toilet as he teased you just as you did to him. His hard length poked through his grey sweats as his hand gripped around the band. Barely anything, and of course it had you drooling, almost ready to beg for more. But you stood your ground and snapped a mildly revealing picture of your cleavage.

He still seemed to enjoy it, however, sending a bunch of the water droplet emoji's. This time, a purple bubble popped up and you found yourself rushing to open it.

Jimin took the band of his sweats and boxers, pulling them down tauntingly until just the beginning of his shaft could be seen, and then it came to an abrupt end. You groaned in annoyance. Why was this boy so annoying today? But you did the same, holding the record button down as you slid your panties down just enough to get a sneak peak of your folds and ended it there, hitting send immediately.

It was opened in seconds and his reply came just as quick. It started right where he'd left off, but he'd finished the job in this snap. The garments pushed down so achingly slow until suddenly his dick sprung free, tip red and needy. You felt another gush of wetness flood onto your panties and you decided it was time to get rid of them. So, once again you hit record and casually pulled them off of your body, a small string of arousal following in suit.

Minnie: fuckkkk what are you trying to do to me????

Minnie: I almost came at just that!! 🙁  

You laughed aloud at Jimin's struggles but you were in the same boat as him. Not only did that damned voicemail rile you up beyond relief, but now he was being just as much of a tease and it only pushed you further to the edge.

The next video was him pumping his thick length leisurely as little breathy huffs could be heard in the background, the squeeze of his head at the end giving you goosebumps. "Fuck," you sighed, sliding over to the camera screen.

Your hand traveled down the length of your abdomen until it met your drenched sex which then, you slid two fingers in and right back out, giving the camera a show of just how turned on you were. And that was the tipping point for him.

Minnie: fuck it im calling you.

Sure enough, your phone rang seconds after. You picked up in a heartbeat.

"Hello?" You smiled, knowing Jimin would oh, so love your innocent tone.

"Hello? That's what you're going to say? Do you know how crazy you're driving me over here? I'm in the fucking bathroom jerking myself off cause my girlfriend wants to play games." You laughed at that, which only riled him up further.

"Play games? Ha! You're the one who started it! That voicemail... what a thing to wake up to. You're lucky I'm free today, otherwise I'd be late to work."

"Ah, that was just a present to you, baby girl." He sighed and you just knew he was still touching himself so you went back to it too, sliding your fingers over your slick walls as you listened to Jimin's breath start to get heavier.

"And that video was my present to you. Your reward to show you how turned on that made me." You continued, your eyes shutting tight as you passed over a sensitive spot.

"Well, all that did was make me hard again, and now I'm here trying to get myself off while my group mate sleeps 10 feet away from me. Are you going to take responsibility?" He grunted, the sounds of his hand picking up speed echoing in the back.

"Hm, should I? Maybe I should just go listen to that voicemail again and let you go back to sleep."

"Fuck, why would you need that when you got the real thing on the line? Unless, you would like that more?" He knew you were teasing, so he played back. What an asshole, you thought as you slid one finger into your tight hole, moaning at the slight stretch.

"Ah, fuck, baby. Tell me what you're doing right now." Jimin sighed.

"I-I'm touching myself." You breathed out, Jimin right behind you.

"Oh yeah? Where? What are you thinking about?" He purred, totally loving this. Jimin loved phone sex for some reason. While he was away on tour, you found yourself having nights like this at least 2-3 times a week. It was almost like he wasn't even gone. Almost. Of course, the real thing was infinitely better, but Jimin got so dirty on the phone that it sufficed.

"I'm to-touching my pussy," You answered, moaning again as you'd found the right spot, "and I'm thinking of you... only you."

"Only me?" Jimin laughed, "you better be thinking of only me. What am I doing to you?"

You whimpered because you were tired of all these questions. Call it selfish, but you were kind of crap at dirty talk and you loved it when Jimin took over. It was more comfortable that way, especially since he loved doing it so much. You weren't innocent or anything, but shy in that sense. He knew it too. He adored making you blush and cringe, especially when he wanted you to vocalize what you were doing to yourself when he wasn't there. Fucking, Jimin.

"Ugh, Jimin..." You whined, embarrassment creeping up into the apples of your cheeks, but all he did was giggle.

"You're so cute, baby girl. Don't be embarrassed! It's just me. I won't make fun of you." He sang. You knew he wouldn't. He was always trying to get you to come out of your shell that way, but you just... couldn't. And he respected that.

"I-you're fucking me... fast, and hard." You rasped, faltering when you heard Jimin groan on the other end.

"You'd like that wouldn't you, baby... If my cock was stuffed into your tight pussy, huh? I know you'd take it so well." He whimpered, letting out a guttural moan before he started laughing.  

"I need to be quiet so we don't get caught, but it's so hard when I keep thinking about that perfect cunt of yours. Let me hear how wet you are."

Your cheeks burned at his request but there was no way in hell you were going to deny him of it. So, you put the phone on speaker, holding it just above the source, letting the wet slick echo into the mic. Jimin groaned, absolutely loving what he was hearing, muttering a small, "Fuck yes."

You continued your movements, your fingers slicking in and out of your entrance slowly, gradually gaining speed as both yours and Jimin's breathing became faster.

"Fuck, I love you baby girl." Jimin grunted, his voice thick with lust.

You moaned in response, adding another finger to the equation. The pool in the pit of your stomach was threatening to spill as that familiar white, hot heat spread tingled through your veins.

"Jimin, I'm gonna c-come so-oon."  

He sighed at your raspy tone, "Me too, I'm so close."

You set your phone on your lower abdomen just close enough to your sex that he could still hear what you were doing to yourself. Your other hand flew down to your clit, adding that extra push to the edge and with a few more flicks and pumps, and with Jimin's deep breaths and grunts you couldn't hold back any longer.

"Mmph, Jimin- fuck!" You cried out, two fingers expertly rubbing your swollen bead with the perfect amount of pressure to ride out your orgasm. Jimin followed right behind you, a sweet whimper and a grunt of your name escaping his lips.

The two of you sat on the call a few minutes, both of your breathing slowing, your heart rate returning to normal.  

Jimin began to laugh, “Fuck, Y/n. You drive me crazy.”

Your eyes widened, “Me?! You’re the one who started this!”  

“And of course you have to finish it! Ah, girl.” You could just hear the smile in his voice, and you began to smile too. Jimin paused for a minute, the tone changing, “I miss you so much. I can’t wait to come home and see you.”

Your heart clenched, “I miss you too. So much. But you’ll be home soon enough! And then, you’ll be totally sick of me and want to leave again.” You laughed. Jimin disagreed.

“No way. I could never be sick of you. I love you way too much.”

He always knew how to make you feel better and worse at the same time, you really missed him.

“Well, Park! Get home quickly... so I don’t have to use my hand anymore.”  

“Oh, baby,” The sultry tone coming back “... you’ll be wishing it was your hand. I don’t plan on holding back. I hope you’ll be able to take it.” He winked. Your eyes rolled and you giggled.

“Well, I guess we’ll see,” You yawned, “But I’m so tired. I’m heading to bed and so should you! What time is it there anyways?”

“Hmmm, nearly 4:30. I have to be up early too. You naughty girl, keeping me up at all hours of the night.” He smiled, sleepiness pronounced in his voice.

“Like, I said, you started it. But go to bed. I love you, and I’ll talk to you later.” You hummed.

“I love you too, my sweet angel. Maybe we can do this again tomorrow night?”

“Sure, you can leave another message at the tone.”