#I’m still breaking out of my white music bubble

[aureliagone]

just some bands fronted by badass bitches

This is especially for those homeschooled kids whose parents thought Skillet and Reliant K were too much. Have some better music and also WOMEN.

The Warning

Icon for Hire

New Year’s Day

Within Temptation

Halestorm

The Pretty Reckless

#i know these are mostly white women #I’m still breaking out of my white music bubble #Halestorm #lzzy hale #the warning #icon for hire #women musicians #rock music #women in rock #the pretty reckless #within temptation #new years day #Youtube

[infictionalwonderland]

hot physiotherapist | j.potter

SUMMARY, james has a rugby accident and has to take physiotherapy - he’s pretty down about, but all that depressions forgotten as soon as he sees you, his physiotherapist. why had he not done this sooner?

James Potter was miserable.

A very odd occurrence, although it did happen (evidently). He was pouting the whole way as Remus drove them to the physiotherapists, Sirius was giggling to himself in the backseat the whole time—Remus, ever the angel he was, tried to cheer James up by giving him complete control over the music in the car and even greeting him with his coffee order and a chocolate croissant.

James was still miserable.

“Have fun, darling boy!” Sirius chirped out the window as James got out of the car, “try not to break any bones on your way in. God forbid you need physiotherapy.”

He burst out into borderline manic cackles and fell down completely into the row of backseats, never one to wear his seatbelt as he hated being constricted—James glared with upmost venom and hatred at the backseat windows, Tarzan looking cunt.

“I hope everything goes well.” Remus’ voiced gently, shooting his boyfriend a blank stare even as he tried to stop his own amusement. “D’ya want me to fetch you any food or anything for you when you come out?”

“No. Thanks.”

Remus winced.

James was still miserable.

He trotted his way indoors, cursing inside his head at the shooting pains all up his back and his hips, with the largest pout there ever was he made his way over to the reception and told them who he was—why he was here, before behind asked to take a seat in one of the rooms where he would be joined shortly by the physiotherapist.

He sat, frowning at the large room with equipment and soft turquoise coloured walls for a short about of time and then the door opened.

And then his world stopped.

In you stepped. . your hair was tugged into a low ponytail, front strands out of the pony to frame your face. He had died, he was certain. Your skin looked so soft, the beaming white lights giving you the most heavenly glow, he was sure you were an actual angel. Your eyes gleamed beautifully, and he was lost in the exact shade of them—trying to pinpoint every little detail and speck of colour. Your lips were pulled into such a fucking lovely smile, he could’ve melted (he did melt). Even from where you stood in the door, he was greeted in the pleasant aroma of your perfume and he felt like he was floating.

Your mouth was open—oh my god he was missing an opportunity to hear your voice—wait, what had you been saying. Balls.

“Um—h—muhuh?”

Double balls.

Your beautiful smile didn’t even waver in the slightest, though, amusement weaved it’s way into your eyes and created a mesmerising pattern into your irises that he forever engraved into his memory.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Mr Potter! My names Y/N and I’ll be your physiotherapist for the foreseeable future.” You grinned, walking closer to him, “Hopefully.”

Wha—was that flirting? No! You had said it in a normal tone, like Hi I hope I stay your physiotherapist because it is literally my job, James and I enjoy it. But—yeah, no. It was like that. You were so close to him now—so so much more beautiful up close, he didn’t think that was even humanly attainable.

“Yeah—i—I hope so too, ma’am.”

MA’AM?!

Somebody sedate me, he thought.

You didn’t seem thrown off or even slightly offended, or disgusted by him. Which was, good, really, really good.

Instead, you let out this little bubbly burst of laughter and fucking hell, James knew from that point he was gone and could never return. His eyes were probably comically wide and maybe in literal heart shapes but he could truly care less. He look at you in awe—your nose scrunched when you laughed, your eyes squinted and to James you just became even more perfect.

“Please, call me Y/N—Ma’am sounds overly American anyway—“

“Would you prefer Miss?”

I’m never leaving the house again.

You blinked.

He almost stumbled to his knees in apology though that would obviously only give you the impression he was more of a creep than you already thought he was—but—hold on. He watched, mouth falling open just slightly, as your cheeks flushed a very very pretty pink and your mouth formed into the cutest smile he’d ever seen in his entire life.

He was definitely leaving the house again, and it was going to be to come here everyday.

“Just Y/N is fine, thank you for being so considerate though.” You laughed teasingly.

“Can I be upgraded to just James?”

“Oh? You don’t want to he called miss? Or Ma’am?” You grinned at him, white teeth glistening from under your full lips, cheeks turning a faint rosy shade under the strength of your grin and a strand of hair swooping in front of your eye. He was in love. “Or, Sir maybe?”

Jesus Christ of Nazareth.

James is one hundred percent that he would’ve fallen over fast first had he been standing and he’s never been more thankful he’s not. He can feel his cheeks turn red—his face heating up to an embarrassingly tomato red state at an embarrassingly quick rate.

“Nah—Ju—Just James, please.” He huffed out, moving the material of his shirt dramatically off his chest and fanning himself. “Is—um, is it hot in here or is just you? Me! Is it just me?!”

You smile at him, adorably crinkle eyed and slightly pink cheeked, looking every bit the goddess and the angel James already knew with certainty that you were.

James Potter was, as it turns out, no longer miserable.

In fact, he can’t wait for his next appointment.

#james potter #james potter x you #james potter imagine #james potter x y/n #james x reader #james x you #james potter x reader #james potter fluff #the marauders #marauders #marauders imagine #the marauders imagine #sub james potter #james potter smut #remus lupin #sirius black

[starysky1289]

Vanessa X Reader. Boba date

Note: if you feel like you have seen this before, you have. In my original account u wrote Boba date, I wanted to rewrite it here <3

The Holiday music buzzed around you, you sat in a small booth, scrolling through your phone as you waited for Vanessa. She had promised you a few days prior that you two could meet up at the local Boba Shop on her lunch break.

You looked out through the front windows, looking for any sign of that old cop car your girlfriend was assigned, and refused to give up. You always teased her about it, calling it her second girlfriend.

A few moments, you saw the black and white car pull in, you quickly got up to meet her at the door. Vanessa was still wearing her Police uniform, she must of raced here after clocking out for lunch.

“ Y/N! There’s my girl. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long “

Vanessa purred, kissing you gently, letting you take her by the hand and walk her into the line of other people.

“ no, you didn’t! I missed you, I was so excited all day! “

“ I’ve missed you too. Hey, this one’s on me. You get whatever size, drink, and snack you want, ok? “

You smiled, squeezing Vanessa hand as you nodded. Vanessa was like one of those scary pitbulls in her uniform. Everyone in the shop was glancing up at her, a little worried she’d break her soft character and arrest some random person.

But that wasn’t your Vanessa. Your Vanessa spoiled you on dates, and wouldn’t do any work business unless absolutely necessary. You both finally made your way up to the Cashier, they cleared there throat before taking to you.

“ welcome to bubble boba, what can i get you two? “

Vanessa nudged you gently to order first.

“ I’ll have a large Fruit Punch Slush, with mango popping boba, and Blueberry muffin! “

“ I’ll get a Milk tea, extra tapioca beads please, and…I’ll do a peppermint chip muffin. “

The Cashier punched your orders into there screen, looking back up at you.

“ that’ll be 18.67, swipe here when your ready “

Vanessa quickly swiped her card through the slot, before sticking it back into her belt. The Cashier handed her the order receipt, and you both stood over to the side.

“ anything interesting happen at work yet? “

You playfully asked, Vanessa ran her fingers through your hair, laughing softly.

“ nope. Ives been handing out speeding tickets. I did see a deer earlier though, and nice big Buck, I’ll send you the picture later. “

You grinned again, as your order number was called. You both went up and grabbed your drinks and muffins.

“ let’s go eat in my shop. Just be careful, chief gets on our ass if we leave crumbs. “

“ I’ll be careful Nessa! “

You both headed out of the shop, you sat shotgun in the squad car, you were always amazed by how many buttons the car had. Vanessa would always talk about how each one worked.

“ hey, I get home late today, if you wanna start watching Love Island you can, just don’t spoil it when we watch it together, ok? “

“ it’s ok, I’ve got my own show I’m into, I know you wouldn’t like it, it’s about silly magic stuff “

Vanessa smiled, rustling your hair with her fingers. You both began to eat and drink your stuff, chatting the hour away. Vanessa tells you about the work place drama, and you tell her how you watched the neighborhood kids ride bikes for the first time, up and down the street while you cleaned.

At the hours end, You both got of of the car, you pulled Vanessa into a tight hug, gripping her waist.

“ I’ll miss you. “

“ I’ll be home in the morning sweet heart. “

“ but still…what if I just came with you and you kept me in the back! “

Vanessa only chuckled, leaning down and kissing you gently, pushing your hair behind your ears.

“ the chief would be mad, than he would make me lock you up, and you’d cry, and I’d feel bad. “

“ true. Promise you’ll text me when you can!! “

“ I will. I love you sweetheart. “

“ I love you more nessy!! “

You kissed her again, before letting her go. You both got into your respective cars, blowing playful kisses at eachother before pulling off. You were already planning the next Lunch date in your head.

#five nights at freddy's #vanessa shelly #vanessa shelly x reader #fluff #hehe I hope yall enjoyed

[cherryapplejuice]

you make me nervous

larissa weems x reader

content: soft, fluff, mutual sapphic yearning

warnings: none

It all started with such a small gesture. You were spending your lunch break at the Weathervane, writing your lesson plan in preparation for next month because, let’s face it, you never allow yourself a real break. Your soy vanilla latte was now merely beige bubbles scattered at the bottom of your empty mug and the steady sound of the milk steaming contraption behind the counter had become an oddly relaxing form of white noise as your pen scribbled in your notebook.

A small ringing sound pierced through the emptiness of the room and you turned instinctively to see none other than Larissa Weems coming in for her usual cappuccino. You flashed her a smile that beamed embarrassingly beyond what you had intended and she offered back a familiar grin and nod in response. You felt a nauseating tightness in your abdomen not too dissimilar to the usual feeling you got when you analysed your every move around Larissa, praying that one day you would somehow find the ability to act cool around her, or at the very least, like a normal human being. You buried your head back into your work in effort to concentrate and block yourself from drowning in the sweet way Larissa stepped towards the counter and spoke with that soft, polite hushed tone that always tore you up from the inside out. Your efforts to muster up new ideas about which classical and romantic period musicians to base your next music theory module on - while you felt Larissa’s eyes burning into your head for a brief moment - became obsolete.

“Small cappuccino.” The boy behind the counter smiled as he placed it before her.

“Thank you.” Larissa beamed, and you wanted to curse her for how sick her sweet voice made you feel. “Mind if I join you?”

You were so used to not wanting to assume anyone would choose your company over solitude, or the company of someone much more enjoyable, that you instinctively waited a few seconds before looking up at her. She was talking to you.

“Oh, of course.” You babbled, scrambling to tidy the mess of paper and books scattered messily across the table to make room before gesturing enthusiastically toward the empty seat across from you. “Go ahead!”

“What are you working on?” Larissa questioned inquisitively. You admired how gifted she was at making everyone she spoke to feel genuinely important and interesting, even if you did still question whether or not she was simply being polite and just making conversation because she felt she had to.

“Oh, uh, this? I’m just trying to decide on a composer to use as inspiration when we move back onto theory with my 10th graders. Theory’s the boring part that everybody hates and they spend the whole time wishing they could just go back to messing with actual instruments so…” You paused for a moment, panicking suddenly that you may be rambling on and boring the poor woman to death. “Yeah. That’s about it.”

You held eye contact with the words on the pages below you rather than with Larissa; after all, ink on paper couldn’t make you flustered so it seemed like the safer option. As the seconds passed, you only wished more and more that the ground would swallow you up. The caffeine may not have been a wise idea when you know you’re prone to becoming this nervous, and you made a mental note to try decaf next time.

“Go with Tchaikovsky.” Larissa broke the silence and you looked up to meet her eyes. “He’s my favourite.”

You shared a smile, a feeling of warmth and genuine comfort finally radiating toward you and settling your jitters as you held each other’s gaze. She wasn’t bothered by your rambling at all. She could tell you were taken aback by her showing interest in what you had to say and, although you weren’t to know, it made her a little sad.

“Tchaikovsky. Tchaikovsky.” You spoke aloud in affirmation to yourself, mostly, the second repetition more sure and certain and the relief in your voice was audible. Larissa shot you a soft grin before reaching down to wrap her fingers around the mug before her and bringing it up to her lips, enjoying the comfortable silence as you flipped to the index of your textbook and flicked your way through to find the pages you needed. You finally had a strange but welcome sense of comfort sitting in your stomach. In all honestly, it could be a little embarrassing how you transformed with the smallest amount of reassurance but you will always take it, you thought to yourself.

You looked up to meet Larissa’s gaze once again. Cobalt glittered from her eyes and the bright porcelain of her skin laid perfectly over her face. Your eyes fell to her lips; the only spot of out place was a small patch of white foam that had found its way from her mug to the perfect soft red pigment applied over them as she had sipped.

“What?” Larissa asked, concerned, as you stared at that one spot on her upper lip. A sheepish smile crept over your face and you were unsure if you were feeling embarrassment or simply sheer adoration for the sudden realisation that Larissa was, too, a real human who is susceptible to the small mishaps that make people just that little bit more endearing. You giggled slightly.

“You, uh. You just…” You paused before shuffling forward and rising from your chair, clearly feeling emboldened and finding your new ability to lean over the table to reach forward, slowly letting your thumb find its way to Larissa’s intimidatingly perfect features, and swiping gently across her lip to remove the foam, leaving her makeup untarnished and a dizzying feeling of yearning in the pit of your stomach. Time had stopped for the both of you. The contact between your skin lingered for perhaps a few seconds too long and the tension behind the eye contact you held, now from a much closer proximity, was incredibly palpable. It was just you two. It didn’t matter that you were out in public, surrounded by clattering and the words of others around you because everything was a blur except for that perfect face in front of you. You watched as the skin on her throat dipped with a sudden gulp before her lips parted to catch her breath. Was she blushing?

But you had no idea that Larissa’s world had just come tumbling down around her, the rubble and debris of all professionalism and decorum she had once prided herself on now gathered at her feet and emitting dust that clouded her thoughts. It had all started with such a small gesture. The feeling of your skin against her lip, the way your eyes had expertly examined her to clean her up efficiently, the slight furrow of your brow in concentration in the half second before your eyes came up again to meet hers - it was all too much. Her world had become brighter, the beige and graphite hues that once surrounded her now bursts of rich sienna and greens that lit the path in front of her. She was suddenly crucially aware of the warmth she felt radiating from the beams of light that surrounded you. A halo.

She had fallen in love.

#gwendoline christie #larissa weems #wednesday #Netflix #fanfic #fluff #yearning #the sandman #larissa weems x reader

[awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands]

Motley Crue Christmas 2022

After GnR, week 2 is about our Crue. I tried to write some stories here too :)

Tommy Lee: Naughy Elf

You were brushing your teeth, when you felt a pair of eyes on you. Quickly you turned around to find a little elf hanging from the towel holder.

“Tommy? What did I tell you about these elfs?” You groaned.

“I’m not Tommy. I’m the evil elf!” A voice said, coming from the bedroom near the bathroom. It was clearly Tommy’s.

“I know you put this elf here, he’s naked!”

He chuckled and quickly joined you in the bathroom. This Christmas season Tommy decided to do “elf on the shelf” but in his own way : continuous 18+ jumpscares of elfs naked, doing gross things or having “elf sex” ( Tommy’s words).

“Did you like it tho?” He nudged you.

“I hate how you manage to make them so funny. Next time I’d rather have you give me a good morning than the elf.” You hugged him.

“Dressed up as an elf, got it!”

“No Tommy, I didn’t meant that!”

Nikki Sixx : Bubble bath and candles

The sound of the falling rain mixed with the softly music playing from the speakers.

Nikki had you in a secure grip as you both let the warm water embrace you. The candles you put on the bathtub were bright enough to let you look at Nikki’s calm expression.

“I forgot last time I felt this relaxed.” He whispered. 

You couldn’t blame him, touring for a whole year was exhausting.

“Do you remember our first bath together?” You said, still blushing at the bittersweet memory.

“I faintly remember your body against mine, you washing my hair and it was in winter?” 

“Pretty much. You were a dirty fucker, I forced you in the bathtube with the promise of a kiss and I washed your hair. It was  last year, around  Christmas, a week or so before...” You didn’t finish your sentence.

 As much as you loved rembering the first time you kissed Nikki, you couldn’t forget what happened after, how he died and was brought back to life. Neither could Nikki, as he went to hug you closer.

“I’m here now. We will spend this Christmas together, you will still wash me but I got to hold you now and repay the favor.” He kissed the top of your head.

This Christmas would have been different.

Mick Mars: Christmas night in

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight in front of you : Mick was almost hiding under the huge christmas blanket you loved so much. He spent most of the time despising it and calling you a “holiday addict”, but the table turned.

“Didn’t you hate this blanket?” You teased him.

“Look, I have to endure a christmas movie plus some hot cocoa. At least I want to be warm and give my back a break.” He replied, in his fake angry tone that you learned to pick up.

“First we will see the Grinch and you like that movie. Second I made coffee with a bit of chocolate so you will like it more. And lastly, admit you like the blanket.”

“It does its purpose but it’s annoyingly red and it has stupid reindeers on it.” He answered you.

“Fine, lie to yourself. I’m going to bring the coffee here, why don’t you put the movie on.” You said, going to the kitchen.

You came back with a tray, two hot coffee and some snacks in it, while Mick was waiting for you.

“I thought you wanted to hang out with your friends. Didn’t they invite you to a party?” 

“Yeah, but I love nights in. And I have everything I want right now : a cozy blanket, hot coffee and my Grinch.” You reassured him, getting under the blanket.

Mick rolled his eyes and started the movie, but you swore you saw a small smile forming on his face.

Vince Neil: Angel

“Guess what I found at the store!” You said as soon as you opened the door.

“ Christmas ornaments? Since you went for those?” Vince answered, looking from the TV to you.

“Right, but I found the perfect one. C’mon, open it!” You took out a small envelope and handed it to Vince. 

The blond slowly moved the paper away to show a beautiful ornamental angel. It has blond hair and white wings, some gold details and it was clear it was made by hand.

“Wow, you can tell this was handmade, it must have costed you so much.” Vince commented.

“Not at all, I found it in a thrift shop, they totally undervalued it. But that’s not the point. Didn’t you notice something?” You asked again.

“Ehm... no?”

“It looks like you!” You admitted.

“No, it doesn’t!” Vince retorted.

“Yes, it does : blond hair, sweet eyes, dressed in white, high maintenance. That’s you!” You explained.

“Calling me an angel, out of all people, it’s silly and you are wrong. I ain’t this angel thing.”

You stared at him for a second, trying to find the best comeback possible.

“If you don’t want an angel, we can always put a Barbie in there, near my heart shaped ball, to rappresent you.” You smirked.

“Fine, I’ll be the angel. But I’m also the devil you corrupted you!”

#motley crue #Tommy Lee #nikki sixx #Mick Mars #Vince Neil #moodboard #christmas moodboard #80s rock band #80sRock #christmas #elf #warm bath #night in #angel

[theold-ultraviolence]

No One Like You (SIDE A)

Eddie Munson x fem!reader // available on ao3

Summary: The prospect of life after graduation year loomed heavily on your mind, just as your unspoken feelings for your best friend, Eddie Munson, were getting too difficult to contain. On a spur of courage, you decide to finally confess, through a language that both you and Eddie understood far better than words. masterlist // TRACK 06. Chapter warning: suggestive language but nothing explicit.

TRACK 07. Still Of The Night, Whitesnake

…In the still of the night I hear the wolf howl, honey

Sniffing around your door

In the still of the night I feel my heart beating heavy

Telling me I gotta have more…

Long after you’ve turned off the light in your room, Eddie’s gaze remains attached to your window, listening to Whitesnake and simmering in his own mind’s unrest. It takes him a great deal of willpower to dim his thoughts of you in bed thinking about him. 

He turns the key in the ignition to start his van, but – just five more minutes, he thinks to himself as if he were a little kid begging to be allowed more TV time to catch the end of their favorite cartoon. 

Five more minutes in which his dilated pupils stay fixed on your drapes, trying to see beyond them as if he had X-ray vision; see you tossing and turning, or maybe heaving or maybe sleeping peacefully on your side, facing the window – facing him unknowingly. He just knows that if he were to climb right up and sneak inside, slither in your bed to spoon you from behind, you wouldn’t recoil. If he were to make his love loud and clear at this very moment you’d welcome him, because.

Because out of all the songs, this one breaks the mold. The rest are poetic, romantic and even bittersweet. 

This one has teeth.  

It’s direct and heavy and raw, and it kindles a flame within Eddie’s core that won’t die out unless he satiates a need he’s been neglecting for far too long.   

His eyes roll back with the deep intake of breath he takes, knuckles going white when they grip the steering wheel as he turns up the volume and recalls your note. 

– 

Dear Eddie,  

This song is pretty self-explanatory. 

In fact, I think from now onwards, they’ll all be like that. We’re reaching the point in the mixtape where the songs are as direct as they can get and the lyrics express my feelings far better than what I’m able to put on paper. And we only have two more tracks after this one. 

This is the letter I’m most embarrassed about, and you can figure out why from the choice of song. But I thought – If I’m gonna do this, might as well add the darker parts as well.

Remember in ‘85, when Corroded Coffin was finally booked for a show out of town? We drove out to Indianapolis, all cramped up in your van with the rest of the guys. It was all so exciting, I didn’t even mind the stench of the band’s sweat – both from the nervousness of getting out of the comfort zone that was The Hideout as well as the evening heat that felt stickier because of your leather seats.  

It must’ve been the biggest crowd you’ve ever played for as of yet and I was so proud. I was excited as a fan of your music, but also because I knew how much this meant for you. Felt like I was watching your dream begin to take flight. 

The energy from the mosh pit was amazing, especially from my spot in the front row, right by the barricade that separates the stage from the pit, by the left side of the floor so that I could be directly in front of you. 

You know that adrenaline you get when you’re standing there waiting for your favorite band and suddenly all the lights go out, the crowd begins to cheer and scream and the anticipation of seeing your idols bubble up in your brain, numbing all thoughts until you’re left wide-eyed, waiting with a gaping mouth for the that defining second in which a single guitar note breaks through the mania of the crowd and you’re yelling manically, feeling like your heart is about to soar right out of your chest!? 

Imagine my delirium, when I was experiencing that – and it was you who I was going to see playing. It was YOUR guitar riff that kick-started the crowd. As soon as you emerged from the side-stage I was swooning. I’d already seen the rehearsals of course, but seeing you perform in front of this novel crowd was something else entirely.

The backlight created a halo around your hair and from the angle I was looking at you, you appeared otherworldly. Larger than life, like the rock stars that we idolize and that we see in videos. With the lights raining down on you from atop the stage the harsh shadows contrasted you in all the flattering ways; it sharpened your figure clad in leather pants and a sleeveless tee, accentuated your muscles as they flexed when you got through a riff and how your jaw tightened in focus on a particularly complex progression of chords. 

The more confident you got from the crowd’s feedback, the more you let loose on stage – headbanging and jumping so high I thought you could fly. 

 A dream Eddie, you looked like an absolute dream, I keep telling you. 

But I wasn’t the only one to see that. 

Halfway through the set during one of your guitar solos, white lights flashed and dry ice surfaced from behind the stage making all the girls shriek and yell for you. 

I turned and noticed my own admiration cloned in all their faces beside me in the crowd. 

In a matter of seconds, between flicking my gaze to them and back at you, your microphone stand already had a handful of bras hanging from it. 

At first you didn’t know how to react, this being the first time happening and it being such a rite of passage among rock stars, but quickly you grinned smugly and played with even more swagger. Flattery does indeed work with you. 

There was this girl that reminded me so much of goddamn Chrissy Cunningham, who climbed up on the shoulders of their friend to stand out from the crowd and get closer to you. Excitedly you reached the edge of the stage to play right in front of her with a pleased smirk on your face. 

You got so close to her that her fingertips grazed the edge of your shirt, the ends of your hair. 

All the heat rushing through my veins from the show ran cold; I froze in my spot and the punches from the crowd surfers all around me didn’t matter. 

A green monster settled in my ear, growling about how she had breached something that was sacred, how I was the only one you let twirl their fingers around your curls, stroke my hand over your shirt when I’m anxious or when we’re watching TV together. That you only ever looked at me like that when you rehearsed at Gareth’s. Not only that but it conjured up images in my head of what you’d do with all those bras thrown at you. Would you keep them? 

The moment only lasted for the remaining notes of your solo before returning to the main riff, but that’s all it took for my heart to sink. 

The show went on and eventually I got hyped up again, but I couldn’t shake that nagging feeling for a long time afterwards. 

Couldn’t scrape out those thoughts from my head. 

I’m ashamed to admit that after your set was finished and we were hanging out at the venue’s parking lot before heading back home, my eyes kept scanning the place to see if she was around – if she had stayed back to look for you.    

What if she had? What if she had approached you? Would she have led you into the alley? Or to the back of your van? 

I’m even more ashamed to admit that part of me even wished that she’d come backstage, because she would’ve seen you with an arm around my shoulders. 

I mean it, that moment didn’t leave me for the longest time, rummaging in my thoughts like the monsters from the Critters movie. All I kept thinking was, did you think about her after? Did you go to bed at night and fantasized about her? Is that the type of person you like? Who do you think about when you’re all alone, under your sheets?  

I don’t need to tell you who it is that’s on my mind. It’s all in this song. 

If we weren’t just friends, would you have taken me backstage, in the back of your van, in the alley, to burn off all that energy from the show? 

‘…In the heat of the day I hang my head down low

And hide my face from the sun

Through the light of the day until the evening time

I'm waiting for the night to come…’

I school these thoughts during the day, until I’m all alone in my own bed and have trouble sleeping. The one image that soothes the ache in my heart, the coiling in my loins, is you. 

During the day I never dare let these thoughts roam free – or else I’d crumble with every single touch you give to me. The friendliest of touches that aren’t supposed to mean anything. 

I’d break when I see the girls who ogle at you when you play at The Hideout. 

I purposely refrain from wondering about who you go to when you need to release your own tension, or about the day when you’ll come up to me to tell me you have a significant other. I’m afraid of that happening because I don’t know how I’ll handle the news, if I’m gonna be able to bear it. 

But at night, when all burdens dissipate, my last thought before drifting off is always you. 

I don’t want there to be anyone else. I know that’s selfish of me, I know. I hate feeling this way. 

I want you, Eddie. 

I want you all to myself. 

– 

That line repeats itself over and over in his mind.  ‘I want you, Eddie’, you’d written. I want you, I want you, I want you, I want you – FUCK. 

What he’d give to listen to you whisper it in his ear, moan it against his neck, murmur it against his lips before he captures them in a kiss. 

This coincides with the bridge of the song; devoid of guitars where only the synth and the percussion are suspended in time, building up to a choir in the background ringing ‘...Oh baby, I can’t keep away, I need to be closer...’ in pleading waves.

The singer shrieks as the perfect echo of Eddie’s feelings; the guitar weeps much like his heart does when he remembers the girl from the show, and how he feels like a complete jackass for having flirted with her when you were right there in the crowd too. He could’ve played for you instead but that rush he got from the attention got to his head. 

And he didn’t do shit with those bras! He just left them there by the side stage. What could he have possibly done? He knew none of them belonged to you because being the perv that he is, he would’ve noticed if you hadn’t been wearing one. He probably would’ve guessed which one belonged to you just from the color and the lace trim that peaked from your blouses sometimes.  

How you haven’t noticed him gawking at you at every hour of the day is beyond him because subtly has never been his forte. 

Either way, he never meant to add more fuel to the fire of doubt burning in your heart, but he’s only human. And he’s not even mad about you expressing these feelings of jealousy when he’d been feeling the exact same way, every single fucking time you hung out with Jonathan Byers. 

Byers, man, he’s a good kid; he remembers the tragedy that struck his family when his little brother went missing back in the Fall of ‘83. But he swears every goddamn time he saw Jonathan near you he had to control his breathing, had to feel the cold metal of his rings digging into the meat of his opposite palm to stop himself from going over to where you were and put his arm around you possessively. 

He knows that Jonathan is your one friend besides him and the rest of the Hellfire club. 

He knows that Jonathan likes all the bands that you like but that Eddie isn’t as fond of. That he likes the same movies that you do. He had the fanciest jukebox stereo and sometimes he invited you over to his house to listen to music and exchange books and comics while you babysat Will. 

That you have a love for photography in common – in fact, that's why you bonded in the first place. Whenever the school paper needed a story that Jonathan couldn’t cover, you were the one to step in. 

You spent so much time with him in the dark room; Eddie knows that Jonathan has taught you plenty of tricks to play around with different exposure techniques, that he’s taught you how to use 50mm film like a total pro – while Eddie managed with a polaroid and only snapped shots with your Olympus if you were around to set the exposure parameters for him. 

He knows all of this because you always came back to him super eager to tell him everything you learned.

He’s enthralled by everything you do, by how your tone livens up when you’re free to babble happily all you want without anyone making you feel bad, so he’s grateful that Jonathan continues to give you something that Eddie can’t. But still there’s this little bud of jealousy that eats away at a part of his brain, even now that Jonathan has gone to California and you keep communicating with him through letters. 

There were days when you didn’t make it to Hellfire because you were covering an event or editing your evening away with Jonathan. He knows that on some occasions, after you finished your work, you went out to catch a movie with him, and if only you knew how hard Eddie tried to school his face from showing his annoyance over it. 

Deep down he felt like such an asshole – why would he be mad about you finding a friend in Jonathan Byers? He could’ve been a friend of Eddie’s as well, not to mention that you’d told him about how his little brother was an avid D&D fan, and Eddie had been more than thrilled about a potential Hellfire newcomer should Will ever return to Hawkins. Only the opportunity to go talk to Byers himself never really came because of his own stubbornness.  

It’s just that, while Jonathan and him were all too similar on one level, Byers had all the attributes that Eddie could never ever have. A good family, a good home; he was quiet and reserved and well mannered while Eddie was chaotic and loud and had gotten in trouble with Chief Hopper way too many times. What would your parents think if you introduced Eddie as your boyfriend? No, Jonathan was a better catch, even if you never even expressed having feelings for him. Eddie would’ve known if you had, you told each other everything. 

Either way, Byers is gone now. 

With that thought in mind, a wicked feeling bubbles up in his tummy, making his lips stretch around a full smile with teeth and his heart begins to pound so wildly he thinks he might burst, right here under the streetlight. 

That doesn’t matter anymore. 

These pesky feelings of jealousy that you had unknowingly been bouncing between the two of you didn’t matter. Doesn’t matter where Byers is nor how many bras he gets on his microphone stand at the end of a show – not now that he knows how you feel. 

That you want him, just as ardently as he wants you. 

Out of his peripheral vision, he sees movement underneath your curtains. 

When he turns he sees your form, reaching for the window – timid fingers curling around the drape, pulling them an inch away to peak outside. 

…In the still of the night

In the cool moonlight

I feel my heart is aching

In the still of the night…

--

(UP NEXT: TRACK 08. Waiting For A Girl Like You, Foreigner)

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #female reader #eddie munson fanfiction #reader insert #stranger things #stranger things 4 #joseph quinn #fluff #angst #slow burn #friends to lovers #my writing

[ajoytobeheld]

Gareth Campesinos!' records of 2010

December 2nd, 2010

And so, the moment I’ve been waiting for, my 12 albums for 2010. That averages at one a month </justification for exceeding ten>

I was intending to do this in order of preference, but the late arrival of Kanye convinced me otherwise. Right now I can’t see that I like an album from this year more than My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, but 12 months ago I’d have said the same about Perfume Genius’ Learning. Making a snap decision now could only cause me to cause some horrific injustice like, oooh, I dunno, suggesting the Marina And The Diamonds record is better than Kanye. Idiocy.

I cannot write about music, so please forgive these descriptions, they’re just to break up the pics, like.

So, in no particular order…

Psychorama – Bathcrones

Bright melodies bubbling atop and overflowing from slow motion beats. All sheets of synth noise and groove. An oddly uplifting record, kinda like a crack of light under the doorframe of a darkened room.

Love King – The Dream

The-Dream’s written some of modern chart music’s biggest hits (Umbrella, Single Ladies) but his solo records show an intelligence and degree of concept that very few people would expect. Dark, self obsessed stuff hidden behind MASSIVE TUNES. Our generation’s Michael Jackson, I tell you.

Carve Out The Face Of My God – Infinite Body

The most melodic shoegazy/ambient record I can recall hearing. Released on No Age’s Post Present Medium record label, this drone is modern day classical music if you ask me.

Autre Ne Veut – Autre Ne Veut

Like every annoying ten-minute trend this year, but with actual worth behind it, a set of bollocks and falsetto. Nostalgic, twisted pop-songs to make your head whir and your eyes cry ice cubes. This is one of my absolute favourites.

Blue Water White Death – Blue Water White Death

Starring Jamie Stewart and Shearwater’s Jonathan Meiburg, this, for me, harks back to La Foret era Xiu Xiu. Centred around acoustic instrumentation and eerie, threatening mantras.

LA Vampires Meets Zola Jesus – LA Vampires Meets Zola Jesus

Massively succesful year for Zola Jesus’ Nika Roza, whose Stridulum EP has seen her break into a world that I could never have imagined (though am so pleased to see her in). However this, her work with Pocahaunted’s Amanda Brown is my favourite of hers from this year. Mesmerising, minor key and dub tinged, this is pretty trippy stuff.

Dagger Paths – Forest Swords

So happy that this is receiving a late push from the likes of Pitchfork. Wirral producer Matthew Barnes is a gentleman, and produces music like nothing I can recall exactly hearing before. His cover of Aaliyah’s ‘If Your Girl’ may well be my track of the year (actually, no, that’s The-Dreams F.I.L.A., but still).

Suburban Tours – Rangers

Like early Ariel Pink, but less annoying (to my ears). Every AM radio song of the 80s recorded to cassette and played atop of each other over a melted car stereo. But sad, very sad.

Learning – Perfume Genius

The most delicate and tortured music I’ve heard since the highest (or is that lowest) points of This Mortal Coil. Just a beautiful man and his demons sat aside a piano. I’ve gone on about this record enough that if I’ve not convinced you by now, I’m sure I never will.

My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy – Kanye West

There are no words.

Mare – Julian Lynch

Hazy, folky pop songs made ‘difficult’. Soothing and rewarding.

New Love – Former Ghosts

Industrial, hyper emotional tales of the heart and soul from the composer of my favourite album of 2009. This second full length pays even more attention to detail and space. Somehow more pop and more brutal than before.

Needless to say, I’m excited for all the upcoming End Of Year Lists from certain publications, to see what brilliant stuff I’ve missed out on this year. And maybe yours too?

#2010 #gareth!blog #lc!blog

[silvaswiftcast]

FFxivWrite2023 Prompt #23: Suit

Characters: Silva Cataracta and Ricmorn Cataracta

Rating: General

Notes: None.

Content Warnings/Additional Tags: Mentions of Food/Drinking, Alcohol, Overstimulation in Social Settings.

Silva had a love-hate relationship with parties and balls. The delicious food, bubbly wine, and mingling with friends she hadn’t seen in a while were her favorite parts of getting all dressed up and forcing herself to wear uncomfortable heels for bells. A sacrifice she was more than happy to make.

But what she hated was the boring chatter with fancy nobles — ladies and lords she never could remember the names of. How they all demanded her attention without any end. And though it was easy to let the mask of indifference fall into place, giving fake smiles and hollow laughter, it left her incredibly mentally drained by the end of the night.

So the second she reached her breaking point, she excused herself before the next too-drunk lord could take hold of her hand for more dreadful conversations.

She swiped a flute filled with sweet white wine before escaping down one of the long hallways in the Ishgardian manor where this current party was held. The clicking of her heels against the stone floors echoed loudly off the walls. She silently prayed no one saw or heard her.

But by the time she rounded a few corners and found an empty courtyard, she knew she was safe.

“Oh, thank the gods!” she sighed, sitting down on one of the stone benches that wasn’t covered in snow. “Peace at last.”

Silva slowly sipped from her glass as she gazed up at the starry heavens, savoring the taste of honeyed grapes on her tongue. Compared to the noise of so many people talking over one another and the music of the small orchestra, the courtyard seemed almost ethereal. Strangely so. But she didn’t mind. The peaceful stillness gave the Au Ra a chance to calm her mind and ease her nerves.

The only thing she didn’t take into account when seeking a place of solace was how cold it was — or the fact the dress she wore didn’t have sleeves to keep her arms warm.

“Well, this is a poor lapse of judgment on your part,” she grumbled, shivering when a gust of icy wind swirled around her.

But there was no way in the seven hells she was going back inside now.

Lucky for her, there was someone ready to save her from the cold.

“Here—”

Silva looked up to see Ricmorn standing before her, holding his suit jacket out, a glimmer of amusement shining in his sky-blue eyes. She gave him a soft smile, setting her half-empty glass down before taking it from him.

“Thank you, my love,” she murmured, shrugging it on. A happy trill rumbled in her throat as she was immediately enveloped in warmth.

He returned her smile with a grin full of bright teeth and fangs. “Of course. I had a feeling you got tired of being around everyone and needed space.”

“You’re not here to drag me back, are you?”

“No!” he chuckled, sitting beside her and pulling her close. “I’m here to escape it, too. And keep you company. I was annoyed with the endless questions about our duties and personal lives. We can go home whenever you’re ready, Silv.”

#FFxivWrite2023 #FFxivWrite #FFxivWrite Challenge #ffxiv writing #ffxiv fanfiction #ffxiv #silva writes

[yikimiki]

Please more Reiner and size kinkkkkkkk

SAY NO MORE!!! I actually got really carried away with this one because Reiner with a size kink just makes me go insane

jock!reiner x fem!reader | warnings: smut, size kink, dirty talk, rough sex, semi-public, unprotected sex, college au, praise kink, creampie, breeding kink

♡ ♡ ♡

In his defense, Reiner warned you. You just decided not to take him seriously.

Could you blame yourself? Not really, not when a lot of guys like to play up their sizes to get people interested. In your blissful innocence, you thought that Reiner, local dumbass and above average quarterback, was doing the same when he told you like three times that he might have to prepare you a little longer. In your lustful and incredulous haze, you only rolled your eyes, pulling him closer and moaning once your mouths collided back into a heated kiss.

Party hook-ups were never your go-to, but these are different times. Tonight, after a huge back and forth between the two of you, the bubble of sexual tension finally exploded when you straddled his meaty tights, making out with him on the sofa. It wasn’t long before Reiner was panting and groaning, the imprint of his hard cock poking your inner tight, and even less time until he was practically begging to take you somewhere private.

Which leads you here: with your legs spread open, panties hanging on one ankle and skirt pulled up to reveal your soaked pussy. Your ass is pressed against the cold marble of the bathroom sink and your eager eyes are watching as Reiner finally pulls his pants down, dragging his underwear down with it.

Oh. That’s gonna be an issue.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out, feeling both aroused and terrified at once. Reiner takes one hand to pump his cock, which his for sure the biggest you’ve ever seen. He’s thick and long, with a bright red tip and thick veins standing out. His balls are equally huge, heavy and loaded as he takes a step towards you. “Reiner, you’re so big.”

He scoffs, thumb circling his tip, where a fat bead of precum started to drip. “Sure you don’t want more prep?” He asks and, in a suicidal decision, you shake your head no. You’re being stupid for the second time tonight, but, now, it’s on purpose. As much as you think there’s no way in hell you’ll be able to take him inside, you want to feel the stretch of every single inch Reiner has to give you. He raises one eyebrow. “Sure about that?”

Tentatively, you curl one hand around his member, gasping once you notice you can’t even hold him all the way around. Reiner sees it too, hissing at the image. “I’m sure,” you say. “I wanna try.”

He takes another step towards you, large hands separating your thighs before he yanks you closer by the waist. You yelp at the movement, growing even wetter at his strength. “You sure you can take my cock, baby?” The pet name makes your toes curl, the vibrato of his voice now so much closer to you. Now that Reiner is standing tall before you, you come to terms with the fact that he’s huge all around — strong, defined muscles, tall, broad shoulders. He could break you in half if he wanted to. “Pussy looks so fucking tiny. I doubt I’ll fit.”

You gasp when two of his fingers spread your pussy lips apart. You hold his cock tighter, earning a groan from him. “Please, make it fit,” you almost sob. You never needed something so much in your life. “I can take whatever you give me, please.”

That seems to be enough for Reiner. He takes your hand away from his cock and lines his tip with your soaked entrance, rubbing himself up and down to catch more of your arousal. You are moaning at that feeling alone, entire body expecting for the moment that he finally enters you.

“Ready?” He asks. You nod, placing your hands on his shoulders. “Gonna go slow. But I can’t promise I’ll hold back later.”

“Okay,” you say.

The tip of his cock presses tightly against your entrance, intruding past the ring of muscle. Reiner growls against your ear at the feeling of your tiny pussy clenching around him, almost pushing him out. “You have to relax for me, baby,” he asks.

“I-I’m sorry,” you hiccup. “It’s just— you’re so big, so big.”

“Shhh, I know, baby, I know.” Reiner kisses your temple, then presses forward once again. You cry out his name as his huge length splits you open, feeling like you’re about to cum from his size alone. By the time that he bottoms out — how, you have no idea — you’re crying out in pain and pleasure, nails digging into his large biceps as he waits for you to get used to it. “Fuck, baby,” Reiner moans. “You’re way too fucking tight. Pussy’s just sucking me in.”

“M-move, please,” you beg. “Please, Reiner.”

You don’t have to ask twice. Reiner is slamming his hips against yours in no time, pace getting faster and faster until you’re practically bouncing on the bathroom sink, tits moving up and down with the force of his thrusts. You just feel so small caged by his strong arms; the animalistic glint in his eyes making you feel like he’s about to eat you whole. Still, you can’t think much further than that, not with his huge cock fucking you dumb, brushing against every single sweet spot you have.

“G-God, you’re such a good girl,” Reiner hisses, one arm circling your waist so he can change the angle of his thrusts. “You’re taking my fat cock so fucking well, this tight little pussy is not even letting me slip out.” His cock throbs inside you as he says that, and some part of your fucked-out brain realizes that he must like the size difference just as much as you. “Tell me you like it, baby, tell me.”

“I love it,” you moan, throwing your head back. Reiner is attacking your neck in no time, deep voice vibrating against your jugular as your walls start to clamp around him. Your next words are a complete disconnected mess because of your orgasm, but every single one is like music to his ears. “R-Reiner, your cock’s s-so huge, so big, can’t take it— too much, it’s too much, I can’t...”

“Cum for me. You’re gonna be a good girl and gonna take every fucking inch of this cock,” he orders. You do both — walls spasming around his girth as your high washes over you, calling out his name again and again as if there aren’t hundreds of people just outside the bathroom door. But you don’t care, not when Reiner keeps using your pussy as his favorite toy, moaning and cursing as his own high approaches. “Tell me I can cum inside you,” he practically begs. “Tell me I can breed this pussy.”

You nod, still drunk off the pleasure. “Yes, please, fill me up, Reiner, please.”

His hand is on the back of your neck before you can think, pulling you into a kiss that is all teeth and tongue. “Gonna give you every drop of my cum, baby,” Reiner promises. “Gonna fill you up until your pussy is dripping.”

This time, you’re smart enough to believe his warnings. Reiner cums soon after — and he cums a lot. Wave after wave of white shoots out of his cock, his hands holding onto your hips so tightly you just know it’ll be sore in the morning. You’re stuttering out his name as another small orgasm rushes through your body, enough to push out his cum before he’s even done with it, dripping down the sides of his cock and onto the floor. With his size and his release, you feel as full as you can get, bliss overtaking your body as he finally pulls away.

“What a mess,” you giggle, looking down between your legs.

Reiner agrees with a chuckle, leaning in to place a soft kiss against your lips. “You did so well,” he praises and you feel yourself melt. “Mind if I call you one of these days?”

#reiner smut #reiner x you #aot reiner #Reiner x reader #reiner braun #reiner headcanons #aot smut #snk smut #attack on titan smut

[cinnaminyoons]

( A LIFE IN YOUR SHAPE. )

ミ☆ long hair, don’t care.

⤷ PAIRING bangtan x m!reader

⤷ WORD COUNT 5.0k

⤷ TAGS reader has long hair, reader is called “pretty” in jimin’s, 1 (?) swear word, allusion to woohooing + brief blood mention in jk’s

⤷ REQUESTED

Poly bangtan drabble with m!reader that has long hair?

☆  — SEOKJIN

“jinnie?”

seokjin glances over his shoulder, his face breaking into a smile so big it crinkles his eyes. “to what do i owe the pleasure? i thought you had errands to run, dear.”

“i finished them. i wanted to come see you and recharge.” you bring him into your arms, pressing a light kiss to the side of his neck. it’s a slow hour in his cosy, bread-warmed bakery, but seokjin still blushes a rosy red, knowing full well anyone could walk by the painted front window and spot him being sickly sweet and unprofessional.

he pushes your chest lightly, though the moment your arms begin to slip, he grabs your hands in his and places them back on his waist. your eyebrow raises, a teasing smile sliding over your features, and seokjin clicks his tongue.

“if you’re going to hold me, do it well. i didn’t marry a slacker.”

you lift one of his hands, holding him gently and swaying with all the grace of a prince. seokjin’s round bluetooth speaker, sitting in the back room, hums its little tune, washing over you. gently, you guide him around the counter and behind the back room, hiding from passersby. the music clears up, growing louder and less fuzzy around the ends of words.

“there,” you murmur. “all or nothing, right, jinnie?”

he gives you a look through his lashes – a look that says this again? with his soft pink lips curving up despite his attempts to smother it. “your hair’s getting long,” he notes, ignoring his fluttering heart. “you should do it up.”

“ah…” you spin him and begin to waltz with him, like the day he walked down the aisle. he tucks his face into the crook of your neck to hide his uncontrollable, beaming grin. “but i was sad and lonely and had no time. i rushed all the way here to give you a warm lunch during your break – i didn’t want to miss you.”

“good intentions, bad execution,” he scolds lightly, a soft laugh bubbling out of him with his next words. “it’s attractive when you have it up. if you wanted me to be happier, you should have taken the time for it.”

“i’m beginning to think you married me just for my appearance, now,” you mumble, feigning hurt. you stop swaying and wrap your body around him, feeling his chest vibrate with his laughter as you knock your temples together.

he coos and tucks your hair behind your ear. “you couldn’t be more wrong. i married you for your phenomenal culinary skills, and you just so happen to be the handsomest man i’ve ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on.”

“okay, you’re laying it on a bit thick.” both of you laugh.

you feel giddy whenever you see him, your heart skipping rope in your chest, and it’s still unreal to call yourself his husband. husbands for six nice, round, perfect months this coming tuesday.

he reaches up and smooths his palms over your hair, hooking his fingers around the loose locks at the base of your neck you tend to forget. he reaches into the pocket of his blue jeans and tugs out a hair tie. 

you find yourself smiling softly at his knitted eyebrows, the utmost concentration in each careful combing motion. some strands at the front aren’t quite long enough to reach all the way back, and seokjin brushes out some more to make it seem purposeful.

stepping back, he glows proudly at his handiwork. “there. now, where’s that lunch you made, bear?”

you lift the white bag, looped securely around your fingers.

“won’t you stay with me?” he squeezes your hand. he grins. “i’ll make it worth your while.”

☆  — YOONGI

yoongi knows how to play the guitar. this fact endears him to you more than you thought possible. he idly plucks away at the strings now, sitting on the back porch of your shared home in the warm breeze.

he’s wearing black shorts and black puma slides. his shirt is also black. how he stands to wear dark, sun-soaked clothes in the middle of summer is beyond you. you have to admit, though, that he looks beautiful, all messy hair and sleepy kisses.

“evening, love.”

your soft voice is as familiar to him as the curves of his guitar. he leans it against the porch rail as the back door opens, and the rapid scrabble of claws on the kitchen tiles precedes the sound of you stepping into some slides. he creates a mental note to clip holly’s claws this weekend.

“yn, hello,” he greets, a small smile gracing his features. “i didn’t hear you come home. did you get everything on the list?”

“mhm. put everything away, too – how you didn’t hear me is a mystery. how’re you doing? not too lonely without me for a few hours, i hope.”

the brown toy poodle leaps onto yoongi’s lap and he holds him close, patting his warm side. holly pants softly, ears soft and floppy.

you take a seat next to yoongi, feet on the second step down from the porch. yoongi’s are on the first. you smile to yourself. for all his complaints about his perceived slightness, he doesn’t do much to counteract it.

he rests his head on your shoulder. you push your hair over the opposite shoulder, out of his face. “you exaggerate your importance to me,” he says with a faux sense of grandeur, waving a hand through the air. “holly’s here to comfort me in your absence.”

“holly was stuck inside the house, love,” you comment. holly looks up at the mention of his name and you smile, stroking his ears.

“comfort can be at a distance.”

“just say you missed me.”

you laugh at his scrunched-up nose. he lets out a breathy huff — half sigh, half chuckle. “i will not.”

“aw.” you shift and yoongi follows, readjusting himself and turning inward, towards you. your arm rests lazily across his shoulders, the other propping you up as you gaze across the green backyard, covered in as many baby trees and flowering bushes yoongi could ever wish for.

you sigh softly and press a kiss to the crown of his head. “you in a pensive mood today?”

“yeah.”

“that must be why you didn’t hear me rattling around inside. you think too hard.”

he hums, almost distractedly. he runs his palms over holly’s stomach – his little head’s migrated to your thigh and he stretches across the tiny gap between you and yoongi.

“it’s just that kind of saturday. i dedicate one day per week to unrestricted introspection.” he hums again. “you interrupted an especially tangible thought spiral on apple pie.”

“i’m sorry, love. i called your name a few times, but you know i like hearing you play.”

he glances at the instrument, silver tuning pegs shining in the light. he retorts, “and i like seeing your hair down, but we don’t always get what we want, do we?”

“it’s half down. don’t i get half points?”

“yn, that isn’t how it works.”

you stare at each other. you’re the first to break, eyes crinkling at the corners, and yoongi’s smile is caused by yours. holly barks, echoing across the green lawn, and somewhere another dog answers him, its reply carried by the breeze.

your eyes are soft when you recover from your laughter. yoongi knows he could stare into those eyes for the rest of his years, even when you’re both in rocking chairs and complaining about the effects of cold nights on your joints. his hand crawls over and securely entwines with yours.

“i’ll wear it down tomorrow,” you offer. “not going anywhere, anyway. just me, and you, and holly, laying in bed. how does that sound?”

“good,” he hums gently. “but – you can’t take it out right now?”

you make a face. yoongi’s sweet smile reappears. “it’s been up all day. it’ll look weird and feel even weirder.” you flutter your eyelashes at him and say, “i have to be handsome in front of you.”

he scoffs and you laugh again. he’s not one to care too deeply about appearances.

standing up and stretching, holly taken back in yoongi’s arms, you grin and offer him a hand. he takes it, landing a soft kiss on your lips. “i’m glad you’re home, yn. i missed you.”

☆  — HOSEOK

“what’s your favourite colour, babe?”

“any colour. i don’t mind.”

“orange it is, then. this is going to be so striking – i’m going to be taking a hundred pictures of you, okay?”

“do i have a choice?”

he grins and winks. “nope!”

he links his ankle with yours as he plucks a few sprigs of blue morning glory off a bush behind him. the shouts of children extend far beyond the little fenced-off area, complete with a mini cottage that pops out a different child every few seconds.

the white chairs are too small for both of you and you’d gotten curious looks while you paid for the children’s activity, but you’re staying out of the way, absorbed in your own bubble. every so often, hoseok lands a kiss on the corner of your mouth. you reciprocate when he’s looking most concentrated, pout irresistible.

he’s being incredibly careful with his flowers. a small multicoloured bunch sits in front of him and he picks each in accordance with his colour pattern. he’s using blue, white, and orange, each bud positioned so it seems random, but not too random.

your ring of flowers is pink and orange, with the occasional creamy yellow for variety. to be honest, you’ve been paying more attention to hoseok than the flowers. it’s hard not to when he’s right there, so cute with his beanie and little concentrated frown.

you give in to your desires and kiss him. he wiggles unconsciously, eyes shining with joy. “i love your kisses, but what’s that for?”

“i need a reason to shower my baby in affection? it’s not enough that he’s just so kissable?”

“you spoil me,” he coos. “first taking me here on our date, then giving me so much love? you’re the sappiest boyfriend ever.”

stealing one of his orange flowers, you tease, “you’re sappier. really, the giant teddy bear wasn’t necessary. i could barely fit it through my door.”

“but you ate my heart chocolates,” he points out.

“it was good chocolate! here,” you pass him a white carnation, “that’s a lot of colour right there.”

“oh, good catch. thanks.” he twists it into the crown. he turns it around in his hands with a plump, satisfied smile. “come here, come here. let me measure.”

you let him touch the crown to your head, ensuring it’s the right proportions. he nods to himself.

“nearly done, sunshine?” you ask.

“after i make it a circle—” his tongue sticks out the corner of his mouth in concentration “—it’s yours.”

taking yours into your hands, you bunch the stems and wind them together to form a firm clasp at the back. it leaves an unsightly gap, so you wrap a few more flowers around it to cover it up.

hoseok holds his crown before him with a glimmering smile, pride in his eyes. “all done!” he announces. “you’re done too – good, good. come on, let’s swap!”

you raise a hand to stop him as he leans over, about to take yours and give his. his lips part into a questioning ‘o’.

“we should put them on each other,” you explain. “isn’t it more romantic that way?”

his smile splits his face and he covers his mouth in embarrassment on your behalf. “i thought it was too cheesy…”

in response, you lift your flower crown and wriggle your eyebrows. a baby gurgles happily in the near distance.

hoseok laughs, infectious, and hovers his crown over your head. you mirror him, elbow to inner elbow. “on three?”

“on three.”

“okay. one—”

he grins like a cat and drops the crown on your head. reaching up, he pulls your wrists down, giggling madly at the look of betrayal on your face.

“that wasn’t on three!”

“i didn’t want to wait any longer,” he whines, leaning in. he touches your crown with wonder. “i was right… you look like a disney prince.”

“compliments won’t help your case,” you say, mock-threateningly. he tucks a long, defiant lock of hair over your ear and smiles. your will wavers. “well, maybe they are… but i’m not forgetting this any time soon.”

he only laughs sweetly, grabbing your hands and pressing your knuckles to his warm cheeks. “just kiss me, silly.”

☆  — NAMJOON

“dearest, you love me, right?” he says suddenly one night, words coming slow and cautious in the way that makes you smile fondly.

your gaze meets his over the edge of your book. it hadn’t originally been yours in ownership, but since moving into a dorm with him, everything that was yours is now his and vice versa. the cover of the paperback is soft and comfortable to hold, reread and reread again.

“what did you do this time, baby? do i need to call the fire department?”

“that was one time. you should give me credit, at least, for the fact that i tried.”

tried, yes, and a very sweet attempted gesture of affection and gratitude. still, standing outside on the cold wet grass and watching the procession of fire engines pass you by isn’t the most ideal date.

your finger marks your place between pages and you close the book, smiling at namjoon’s crossed arms and loose joggers-and-hoodie combo. “i do. i thought it was really brave of you to try something so advanced.”

he squints at you. “are you mocking me, or being sympathetic?”

“yes.”

he cracks a grin, dimples twelve feet deep, and flops down next to you, arranging his limbs in some semblance of grace. “you’re awful.” he peeks at the book in your hands. “is that one of mine?”

you hum and turn the book around for him to read the cover, hand slipping out from between the pages. you’ll find your spot easily enough. “it’s not bad, actually. anyway – you wanted to ask me something?”

“how’d you know?” he asks.

“you never call me ‘dearest’ unless you’re trying to wheedle something out of me. so, what’s up, namjoon?”

he pauses for a moment, sorting his thoughts out.

“you promised you’d spend time with me today.” his voice softens. “we don’t see each other often as it is… i know we’re busy with assignments and deadlines and shitty bosses, but i’d like to make time for us. you know – to cuddle, and stuff. if you’d like that too, that is.”

to his surprise, you grab the back of his head and kiss him, full of affectionate exasperation.

he tastes cold and minty. he chews gum to calm down and keep himself focussed.

you break away and chuckle at his strong blush, giving a gentle squeeze to the nape of his neck where your hand had landed up. “you’re a dork, i tell you. how long have you been agonising over this?”

“not that long.”

“so a few weeks.” you press your lips to his again. he hums softly. “why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

he shrugs, playing with your fingers. “dunno. alright, don’t raise your eyebrows at me – i was worried you’d think me clingy and annoying.”

“baby.” you cup his face in your palms. his skin is warm, and with his feet tucked criss-cross  beneath him, hands on your knees, he seems very soft. “we are literally the most casual couple ever.”

“i know,” he sighs deeply, “that’s why i thought, maybe he isn’t into physical affection so much. i  don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

your lips press against his forehead. his eyes shine.

“you,” you say firmly, “are the dumbest smart person i’ve ever met. i love anything if it’s with you. how about this. tell me straight up – what do you wanna do for the rest of the night? we aren’t staying up past midnight, though, because you have a seminar at eight tomorrow and the last thing you need is sleep deprivation.”

“promise me you won’t think it’s weird.”

“i promise.”

namjoon takes a deep breath and squeezes your hand. “i want to play with your hair.”

you are silent.

then: “you worried yourself to death about that?”

namjoon nods. you laugh and tug him up by the hand, plopping down in front of the couch and tossing your head to get all the locks over your ears. he places himself behind you, folding his long legs under him again, and you grin back at him.

“wanna watch a sea monster documentary?” you ask.

his head bobs, the dimples in his cheeks coming out full-force. you let yourself relax, closing your eyes, and his hands, warm and kind, carefully section your hair. for others, it may be nothing extraordinary, nothing meritorious, but for you and him, it’s all you could ever want.

☆  — JIMIN

park jimin is the kindest soul out there. he gives what little spare time he has to volunteer work, to tutoring high school kids, to feeding stray dogs with nutritious meals he buys himself. he contributes more than his assigned share in group projects and waits for the person tying up their laces.

always the type to jump at the chance to help others, he doesn’t mind when he’s asked – rather nervously by a younger boy – to deliver a few bags of take-out to music room number three. he’s passing the music building anyway, so it won’t hurt to stop for a moment.

he hums softly as he nudges the door closed with his foot, white sneakers tapping against the linoleum tiles. room three is further down, and he turns left when the hallway splits into a capital ‘t’.

muffled laughter echoes down the corridor and jimin smiles automatically. he hears a mean guitar solo that ends with more laughs, though they quickly die down for the count of the drumsticks. curiosity blooms at the back of his mind and he peeks through the small window in the door to see who he’s delivering fuel to.

there are at least four people inside. three guys and a girl. the drums start first, rhythmic and steady, and the lead guitar follows, amplified by the bassist. jimin likes the vivid red of the bass.

the girl’s the singer, voice low and raspy. she’s got a classic rock sound. he hasn’t heard the song before – based off of the scrawled writing on the paper in her hand, it’s likely an original.

colour him impressed. the pause between verses is ended with a heart-racing beat drop, the kind that’d have him dancing in his dorm room and laughing at his own actions. his foot taps along to the beat.

his attention shifts to the one in the back. he’s almost out of sight, cut off by the door, and his easy grin makes jimin’s cheeks warm. he doesn’t look familiar, but then again, they don’t run in the same circles. there’s something magnetic about him, the way he sits back and tucks his long hair over his ear.

“no,” he mutters firmly to himself. “you like boys who wear pale sweaters and have soft faces. there isn’t anything soft about this one. he’s, like, the personification of ripped black jeans and smirks.”

but if that doesn’t make him more attractive…

the song ends. they congratulate each other and sit down to revise improvements. jimin pulls himself from his thoughts, patting his cheeks and hoping they’re not too pink, and knocks before entering.

they glance up at his entrance. carefully, he keeps his eyes off the drummer. “hello,” he says politely, lifting the white bags. “i was asked to bring you some food.”

one of the guys’ eyes widen, “you’re park jimin, right?”

“yes, that’s me.” he places the bags carefully onto a table. “i hope i’m not interrupting.”

“you’re alright,” the drummer calls out. jimin wishes he hadn’t, because now they have to interact and he’s unsure if he can hide the symptoms of his sudden crush. “are you friends with min yoongi, by any chance?”

“i am, why?”

you glance over his figure and chuckle. “you’re prettier than he gives you credit for, park jimin.”

he tucks his hair behind his ear and blushes violently. the lead guitarist scolds, “keep it in your pants, ln! look at him, you’ve made him uncomfortable.”

“i’m not uncomfortable,” jimin corrects with a bashful smile, glancing at you. his eyes crinkle. “it was unexpected, that’s all.”

you toss your friend a look that says, see?, and stand from behind the drum set. you lean over it and stick out your hand. “sorry, i’m told i’m too bold sometimes. my name is yn.”

he steps forward and takes it. his hand is small and warm. “i don’t mind,” he says softly. his cheeks darken. “i think you’re pretty, too.”

your smile broadens and your eyes gleam with pleasant surprise. you ignore the gagging sounds in the background.

“thank you. forgive me for being so forward, but… are you free tomorrow afternoon?”

☆  — TAEHYUNG

kim taehyung is, frankly, as mysterious as the dark side of the moon.

he wears loose white blouses and pointy-toed black shoes polished to a blinding shine to every lecture, sometimes accessorised by painted nails or smoky makeup. he asks you for help on his philosophy essays and does nothing but stare at your lips while you explain concepts in a low murmur. he gets an a+ and smiles at you when you pass each other.

a cold hand slides onto your shoulder. “yn.”

you try your best not to jerk away in shock. his steps are silent as a cat’s on a foggy night. “taehyung,” you manage to greet in a level voice.

his lips quirk up. “good afternoon. are you ready for our exam?”

“yes. i say that with hesitance – i don’t want to overestimate my abilities and be crushed when my results return.”

his footsteps match naturally to yours. “don’t doubt yourself. you’ve taught me everything i know.”

“ha, as if. you’re incredibly eloquent and that takes skill on its own. it’s no wonder everyone’s sort of intimidated by you.”

he hums in agreement, clasping his laptop casually to his chest. “and you, dove? do you fear me?”

it’s his nickname for you. you’re not sure when it started, or if he’s always called you that, but it feels natural. it fits him, too.

“at first, a little,” you admit. the cafe begins to empty out, allowing you and taehyung some privacy. instead of sitting across from you like usual, he slips in beside you.

“what changed your mind?”

“your distaste for coffee and chipped nail polish.”

as if on instinct, his eyes flicker down to his hands. after his shining black nails pass the quality check, his gaze returns to you. “why?”

“you’re chatty today,” you comment mildly, digging around in the pocket of your laptop bag for the charger.

you find it and plug it into the wall socket. “hm. you seemed… supernatural, maybe? like paintings you see in museums – everything in them’s carefully crafted. and even though you know the artist’s made it so for a reason, it’s difficult not to be in awe of it, lost in its perfect – unreality, i suppose.”

a tiny smile creeps onto his face. his eyes twinkle. “pretty as a painting, am i?” heat creeps up your neck and you backpedal, stuttering out something about it ‘not being like that’. taehyung only chuckles, fingers fluttering along the black velvet choker around his neck. at the front is a black and white cameo, framed in thin silver.

“you’re sweet, dove.” he shifts and his thigh bumps yours, but he makes no move to remove it. his stare is somehow light and heavy all at once. it has you wishing you hadn’t tied your hair back – the curtain of it falling across your face would provide some relief, a barrier between your thoughts and his own.

he rests his elbow against the backrest of the booth, turning his whole body towards you. his dark eyes roam over your features and you can’t help the twinge of self-consciousness. he’s so close to you that no flaw can be missed.

it feels like you do nothing but get lost in him for a long while. you get lost in him the way you get lost in massive oil paintings of ships wrecked in howling storms, each brushstroke simulating the froth of waves and creak of timber as nothing else can. it’s beautiful from a distance, but nobody really wants to get too close.

the back of his index finger runs down your cheek, trailing along your jaw.

he’s closing the distance between you, he’s closing in like a predator, and you find yourself leaning into him, lips touching – just the slightest graze. already, you’re addicted to the taste of sweets on his tongue, the tingle of his fingernails through your hair as they ease the hair tie out.

you’re his, now. you think you can live with that.

☆  — JUNGKOOK

it’s a dark night. something big and raggedy leaps out of an alleyway dumpster.

a tall brick building on the corner has no signs or lights to tell outsiders it’s occupied. some bricks are a slightly lighter colour than the rest, making out the shape of what seems to be a door and at least one window. boarded up – albeit more permanently.

“yn-hyung, that hurts!”

“i asked if you wanted prep. you said you didn’t need it.”

“yeah, well – ah – i’ve had bigger.”

“cut the attitude, brat. and stop wriggling or i’ll pin you down.”

an overhead lamp creates a cone of steady white light, buzzing quietly and walking the edge between life and non-life. under it is an angled black chair.

sitting on that chair is jungkook, legs spread for a broad figure with a messy waterfall of hair cascading down their back. their head is bowed, hands steady, and jungkook’s face twists as his inked knuckles bury themselves in the figure’s hair.

“stop pulling,” you say sharply. jungkook’s hand falls onto your shoulder instead, gripping a fistful of black singlet. the sleeveless aspect of it reveals elegant lines of black ink that creep up your biceps and across your shoulder blades.

on the left arm is the outline of feathers. it’s an angel’s wing – just one, rather than a pair – and the feathers lead eyes down to a full sleeve only visible once your arm extends, forearm pressed firmly to his bare stomach.

jungkook’s legs shift, faded black high-tops pivoting as if he wants to clamp his thighs together, but you’re in the way.

he throws his head back against the chair, a whimper passing through his lips as his eyes shut tight. his head rolls forward on his shoulders as he opens them again, panting shallowly. “jeez, don’t go easy on me, will you…”

“quit squirming. you want this or not?”

“yes, yes,” he corrects himself quickly, “i want it.”

the needle moves expertly over the round crest of his hipbone. with a wince and a shaky intake of breath, his hand returns to your hair. he does his best to refrain from flinching away.

“good boy,” you murmur, tracing the outline of a rose. if you know why jungkook’s grip tightens, you don’t acknowledge it.

glossy red beads appear in the wake of the needle that runs over his skin. you wipe them off and warmth flutters in his ribs at your careful touch, cold with latex. he tells himself he comes to you for your skill and gentle nature, but still a part of him wishes to kiss your cheekbones and trace your tattoos.

you sigh and straighten, placing the tattoo gun on a sterile side table with black-gloved hands. “all done, kid. now, just ‘cause i let you come in here today doesn’t mean you can keep knocking at my door at ungodly hours of the night, ‘kay? i have to pretend like i don’t have favourites.”

his eyes light up. “i’m your favourite?”

“no, you just pay me more for my troubles.”

you grin. he hides his smile with his knuckles.

“alright. tell me what you’re going to do with your new ink.” you stand up and busy yourself with sanitising and packing away your gear.

he recites the information you’ve told him a hundred times. you listen carefully, interjecting some notes and accounting for the time of day. at least it’s friday tomorrow – today? – and he can afford to laze around while it heals.

“good.” you offer a hand and he takes it, moving cautiously and hyper-aware of the white patch on his hip. he doesn’t want to press against it too much and has pushed the waistband of his jeans a little farther down. a flash of skin glows under the light. “sleep well, kid.”

you turn to leave. jungkook’s heart leaps into his throat.

“wait!”

you glance back, eyebrow raised in a question. your hair is swept over one shoulder.

“uh…” it’s hard to think – your gaze pierces his very soul. he fidgets with the hem of his black hoodie. “do you… do you wanna get a coffee with me? this weekend?”

your silence makes his palms start to sweat.

your lips twitch up. “sure, but not this weekend. heal first. then we’ll talk. cool?”

“yeah, c-cool! i mean, uh,” he clears his throat, “cool.”

“don’t explode, jungkook. come on. i’ll drive you home.”

#bts x male reader #kpop x male reader #kim seokjin x male reader #min yoongi x male reader #jung hoseok x male reader #kim namjoon x male reader #park jimin x male reader #kim taehyung x male reader #jeon jungkook x male reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader

[miraculouscontent]

After reading that, I think it's safe to say that Miraculous Ladybug is more of a horror/psychological thriller than romance/comedy. And now I want an AU where Marinette takes the earrings off and realizes that they're messing with head

Marinette felt strange, and after getting used to the feeling of being on the Startrain, she knew it wasn't the cause. She felt lighter - less restricted - somehow, and while a part of her had expected that due to handing off the ladybug miraculous, it wasn't in the way she'd expected.

Once she was done sending Alya all the Ladybug tips, Marinette had figured they'd start talking about Adrien or what their next scheme would be once she got back, but she ended up finding the idea tiring. It was odd in the way that finding something in her room just slightly out of place would be (at least before the kwami began living there).

Everything she'd thought she might feel - anxiety over what could go wrong while she was gone, concern over how the kwami were doing in her absence, and longing for who she'd pictured as the love of her life - wasn't there. It felt completely unlike her, just as it felt unlike Alya to not reply to her messages considering how much she liked to be on her phone.

Abandoning the idea of texting Alya for now, she closed their conversation and idly started browsing her phone. Even still, the weird feeling didn't cease and her hero senses were going off.

Something was wrong, or... maybe right? It wasn't as if she was feeling anything bad, but she felt entirely different than when she was in Paris. It was hard to get a gauge on exactly how she should take it.

Marinette glanced at her parents, catching herself frowning before they could glance back. She looked at her phone, acting like nothing was wrong and idly scrolling through her various apps so as to look busy. In the process, she stumbled upon her gallery, finding her mass of Adrien images inside. It took up a majority of her pictures, and she found herself blushing in embarrassment rather than fondness.

Did she really have this many normally? How much time had she taken getting them?

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, thrown off by just how different she felt. The reaction to seeing Adrien that she'd normally have where she'd lose all focus had virtually disappeared, and the only reason she'd missed it at all was because it gave her an absurd amount of mental clarity concerning how she'd be acting otherwise.

Clarity...

The word brought a particular face to her mind: pink lips, blue eyes, and black hair highlighted blue at the tips. Marinette ran her fingers through her own hair, ruffling it as she tried to piece out how she was feeling. All she knew was that - whatever it was - it was significant and she didn't have Tikki to vent to.

Though perhaps she wouldn’t had much to provide anyway.

A mix of trepidation and curiosity filling her. Switching away from her gallery, she went back to her conversations and pulled up her texts with Luka. Despite her confusion over whatever was happening to her at the moment, she managed a smile at Luka's contact image staring fondly at her.

After a moment of consideration, she typed out:

Hey. Sorry if you're busy. Thought we could talk?

That done, she navigated back to her gallery to look at all her Adrien pictures. She shifted in her seat again, as if it would change things or help her mind adjust to the unfamiliar sensation. It wasn't like looking at Adrien didn't make her feel anything at all, but that feeling could only be described as "normal," like the way she saw him before he'd given her that umbrella.

Before she officially became a ladybug holder who agreed to protect the people of Paris...

Her lips twitched in hesitant thought, her thumb brushing against her screen as she skimmed through the assortment of Adrien pictures. Her brain registered a feeling - or rather, lack thereof - and the foreign emotions encouraged her to act.

She tapped the garbage can icon experimentally, a notification popping up accordingly and asking her if she'd like to delete the picture. She brought the phone closer to her chest, like she felt she was doing something wrong, yet there was only a second of pause before she confirmed the decision.

She watched as Adrien disappeared, a message indicating that the picture had been trashed.

Marinette blinked at the message until it had timed out, bringing her back to the gallery. She was frozen in place, her fingers twitching against the side of the phone as she processed what she'd just done.

Then, she did it again. She tapped on another picture of Adrien, a weird mix of eagerness and interest urging her thumb along as she pressed the garbage can icon again, confirming the decision just as quickly.

Just before the image disappeared, a stray thought said aloud in her mind: black hair and blue eyes would've worked better for an outfit like that.

This time, her body finally moved, a shudder going up her spine as she took in a breath. Her eyes darted over to her parents, knowing how strange this must look to them, but they weren't watching her anyway, meaning the moment was kept firmly in her own personal bubble. It was so odd; normally, someone would've seen her acting off, or laughed and made muttering comments about it.

But nothing was happening, and she didn't know whether to question it or not.

Marinette glanced back at her phone, almost challenging herself as she started to run through the assorted Adrien pictures. She could've thrown them in the metaphorical bin all at once, but instead, she went one-by-one. She waited for something to break, either a sense of regret to settle in over the deletion or for her heart to start fawning over the face on screen, but neither happened.

She was in control, and it felt good. Really, really good.

Part of her felt like she was being ridiculous. The idea of getting some kind of emotional high out of deleting a few pictures sounded stupid, and yet she felt powerful. It was like a veil had been lifted and suddenly she had choices.

If her parents saw her visibly vibrating in her seat, she didn't hear them make mention of it.

The only thing that made her snap out of her rapid thumb movements was a text notification at the top of her screen, and only due to the flash of black, blue, and white. Her lips curved into a smile, originally being pressed together in focus, and she clicked to open her text messages with Luka.

Hey, Marinette. I'm not busy at all. What's up?

She felt warm, knowing that the guy who always made her feel comfortable and happy was on the other line. it was such a shame that they hadn't been able to work it out because of Adrien.

Marinette paused just as she went to reply, those thoughts catching up to her as she remembered that day with Luka underneath the bridge. She'd been so sure that she'd had to break up with him because of Adrien, but as she purposefully tried to recall the memory, something registered like a mental fog clearing in her mind.

Hadn't it actually been her responsibilities as Ladybug that had done it? In fact, that added up alongside all of the other memories of his akumatization; she hadn't been ditching him during their dates out of discomfort or her crush on Adrien, but because of akuma and sentimonsters.

How could she have forgotten? Or rather, how could she have remembered otherwise?

Marinette just barely managed to snap herself out of her trance, her phone having dimmed from inactivity and the sight of her furrowed brows and worried frown staring back at her from the blackened screen. She blinked rapidly, then shook her head to clear herself of the unnerving thoughts.

Lighting her phone back up, she hurriedly typed back as she realized she'd left Luka on read, trying to ignore the way her thumbs shook.

Nothing much.

She hesitated, already seeing him typing back. Guilt burrowed around in her stomach, knowing very well that it was not "nothing" but being unable to properly convey what was going on to him when she didn't even understand it herself.

She typed again, his own typing ceasing to let her add to her comment.

Actually, I've been thinking a bit lately. I'm going to be in London for a while and I'm on the train ride there right now. It's given me some time to myself and it's... weird.

I'm sorry, I know that doesn't make sense.

Even though he hadn't replied, she knew he was taking her seriously as he was typing back.

It makes sense. Background music doesn't work for everyone.

Marinette realized that her shoulders had been tense when they relaxed at his message. She pressed her lips together, feeling vaguely like she didn't deserve him and pushing down the thoughts just as quickly. He'd never approve of that kind of talk.

My head's just been a bit of a mess. Or... not a mess? Things were really foggy but I didn't realize that they were? It's like I'm thinking clearer but I don't know if I like everything that came with that.

What was the phrase? Ignorance is bliss? She had no idea where these changes were coming from, but something had indeed changed and she didn't know the significance of it. She was indeed happy that she felt so in control now over her thoughts on Adrien, but why now? What caused it, and what about her memories?

Would it go away?

Marinette shuddered at the idea, but tried to focus on her conversation with Luka. Having a crisis wasn't going to do her any good, and he was there with her, even if only through text.

I can't know what you're going through, but I think I get it.

-

You do?

-

Yeah. Do you remember my birthday, when everyone heard about my dad being Jagged Stone?

He already continued typing, so she just nodded even if he couldn't see it. She'd only been with Juleka when the reveal had happened, but she imagined it'd been just as much of a shock for her as it'd been for them. She couldn't even imagine when Luka could've learned about it.

Wait--no, she'd already known, actually, hadn't she? He'd been akumatized and had gone after Jagged, and she'd been there when he forced Jagged to tell him the truth about being his father.

Marinette winced at the filling of a gap in her memory that she hadn't realized had been there. Once again, she'd remembered something that she couldn't fathom having forgotten or misremembered, even with how spotty her memory could be under normal circumstances.

She turned towards the back of her seat and the window, trying to isolate herself so it felt like just her, her phone, and Luka. She desperately needed his texts as a distraction.

I'd wanted to know who my dad was for so long, but learning that it was my favorite musician all this time was a lot. I had to redo all the notes I’ve ever written about him, and I wasn't sure how I felt about it for a while.

He kept typing after that, and she merely stroked the side of the phone with her thumb as some form of support, even knowing that he couldn't know about it.

But I'm glad I knew in the end. He's doing his best to make up for all the lost time, and I don't have to go on never knowing what that song would've sounded like.

Their situations weren't exactly the same, but it was enough to reach her deep down. Whatever her situation was, if it really did mean something, she'd rather know it was there than go on never knowing. She hated the idea of being left in the dark, just as she hated being lied to.

As she took a calming breath, she found it in herself to type back.

I'm glad you know too. You deserve people who make you happy, Luka.

-

Thank you, Marinette. You do too, and I hope that whatever you're going through goes at least as well as it did for me.

-

Thanks.

She bit her lower lip at her reply, which felt clipped in tone even though she hadn't meant it that way. She just had too much on her mind and it was hard to think about what emotion was coming across when she was typing to him.

She tapped away at the on-screen keyboard, hopefully before he could think anything in particular about it.

Sorry.

Though she wanted to explain further, she wavered, her legs bending as she curled further in on herself. The conversation had already been so deep and she didn't want to make it worse.

But just as she debated on dismissing her feelings and insisting that he not worry about her, the memories that had been cleared up from before came back to her, reminding her of a warm hug on top of a bridge.

"When you're ready, I'll be here, Marinette."

She inhaled shakily, but steadied herself immediately afterwards, letting the warmth of the words calm her. Luka was there for her and she trusted him.

She was ready.

...I'm scared, Luka. I thought I had my clarity, but I don't. Something's wrong.

Then, almost on cue, the train screeched to a halt, jostling her out of her seat as the lights went off. The simultaneous sound of phones ringing followed soon after.

—————

Marinette held her breath, crouched down in the restroom while she listened closely for the sound of her parents' footsteps. Her throat let out a whine, but she managed to keep it silent enough to where she was sure that no one on the other side of the door would hear it. She'd have to leave eventually or risk being cornered, courtesy of the power being off and the restroom's lock being electronic, but she felt safe enough to pull out her phone.

She also set it on vibrate just in case.

There was a reasonable concern at first that Luka's texts would indicate that he'd fallen victim to the akuma, but what she found when she checked their conversation reassured her.

Marinette!

Is everything okay?

Did the akuma's power reach you? Did they call you too?

Marinette?

The panic in simple letters on a screen made her feel noticed and loved. Keeping enough of her focus on potential footsteps approaching outside the door, she typed out a reply:

Sorry. I had to run from my parents.

I'm okay. What about you?

-

You're alright. I'm so glad.

I'm okay too. I hid somewhere and I doubt anyone can find me.

-

That's good. Be careful.

-

You too.

She took another breath, certain she'd be captured soon if the akuma wasn't taken care of. The train was limited and there weren't many places to go, so unless she could find a blunt object to smash her parents' phones, she was at a loss.

Regardless, Luka was there, her phone vibrating as he added onto his previous text:

I know this isn't the time, and I hate that the akuma cut into the song we were writing, but I'm here for you, Marinette. Whatever's going on, I'll help you figure it out as long as you want me with you.

Her heart fluttered pleasantly, a pink blush even tinting her cheeks. She welcomed it, unlike the fear that'd come with the changed memories. Feeling the way she did for Luka was too natural to be afraid in any way.

Thank you, so much. You're the only one I could trust with something like this.

She meant it. She'd trusted Alya with her identity in a moment of weakness, and even passed the ladybug earrings to her, yet that somehow paled in comparison to the emotions she was choosing to share. Luka would take her seriously, she was sure, even if she came up with the craziest theory in the world for why her feelings and memories were the way they were. He wouldn't doubt her, or laugh, or dismiss her as "Marinette being Marinette."

And as she sat there, completely without a miraculous or any way to get back to Paris without help, she reached up with her free hand and tugged at her earlobe, processing what she could with the information she had as one such theory started to form in her head. The fear from before never quite went away, but the idea of figuring things out with Luka brought her a sense of comfort.

Though perhaps, when she got back to Paris, she would take back her miraculous with a sense of hesitance that she hadn't had before, and there would be some testing that followed after the fact, because there were two things she refused to give up from her experience on the train.

Her sense of freedom and choice, and the feelings for Luka that she can't believe she ever questioned.

Or, if her working theory was correct, that her miraculous had her question.

#MC's Writing #writing: story #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette #category: salt #episode: Hack San #other: ask and answer #((tbh depending on how much Marinette explains it to him)) #((poor boi's gonna have one hell of a revelation in ''Wishmaker'')) #((suddenly the Adrien crush influence she explained is gonna make sense)) #((and he feels bad for ever supporting it even if he had no way of knowing.))

[luvdsc]

august.

Bad habits are hard to break, and you’ve made a terrible one of loving him.

pairing :: liu yangyang x reader genre :: fluff, angst ⋮ best friend + college au word count :: 10,500 words warnings :: none. playlist :: time lapse (taeyeon) ⋆ 2 kids (taemin) ⋆ daydreams (exes) ⋆ sharing you (lany) ⋆ august (taylor swift) ⋆ too close to love (will hyde) ⋆ sad stripped (lany) ⋆ strangers (taemin) ⋆ the 1 (taylor swift) author’s note :: can you believe that i literally wrote this entire 10k fic in one day aka today ??? whew this gave me the same rush that i got when i wrote my research paper in the class it was due for the day of, printed it out during break, and handed it in at the end of class :’) ↳ part of the almost collaboration series.

Liu Yangyang is jumping fences to escape late night parties, shared laughter over childhood favorite cartoons on February mornings, midnight dancing in the refrigerator light, and November kisses stolen in between the shelves of the nearby 7-Eleven. He is obscure doodles in the margins of your physics notes, good intentions laced in December’s mistakes, strawberry lemonade and broken truths wrapped in summer bliss, and September endings with honest lies.

He is your August, he is your everything, but he isn’t yours.

AUGUST 2018.

August has barely begun to fade away.

You’re eighteen years old, and you’re drunk off of your first taste of freedom, one toe already dipping into the shiny pleasures of adulthood. Your new roommate, Karina, has excitedly told you about the famous beach night themed frat party that kick starts every school year at your university. Everybody who’s anybody would be there, and your heart already races at the thought of going to your very first college party.

“Coral or blue?” Karina holds up a solid colored neon blue bikini and a striped, bright pink one for you to choose between.

“Blue.” You nod towards the first option, and she discards the other one back into the open drawer. You pull out a marigold yellow one and a black one lined with white strings, wordlessly gesturing towards them, and she immediately points to the latter.

“That one is gonna look so cute on you. Well, both would, but I love that one.”

You grin at her, silently thanking whoever decided to pair the two of you together for the random dorming. “Perfect, thanks. Do you know any of the guys hosting the party?”

“Yeah, Dejun? He’s really sweet and a year above us. I met him in the music elective I’m taking.” She turns to take off her shirt and tosses it to the side, pulling on her bikini and wriggling into a pair of ripped jean shorts. “You?”

“Kind of? Jaemin is in my project group in Intro to Engineering. He’s rushing for that frat.” You quickly change out of your outfit and into your chosen swim top and daisy dukes. You make sure to grab a pair of black flip flops from your closet. The bundle of nerves in your stomach grows as you step out of your dorm with your new friend, a bit anxious but also excited to attend your very first party.

Thank goodness for summer weather. It’s still a nice, warm 75 degrees Fahrenheit according to your weather app when you and Karina finally make your way to the frat house. The sun barely begins to set, but the party slash dayger had started earlier and is in full swing. There’s a DJ set up out front, blasting some sort of EDM music, and the lawn is absolutely covered in foam. You see the source of it shakily set up on the roof of the patio along with a couple of boys sitting up there, Hawaiian shirts barely covering their figures. You catch the eye of Jaemin, who happily waves at you from his vantage point, and you wave back at him.

“Oh my god, I love college,” Karina says, grabbing your arm excitedly as the two of you step into the foam. You reach down to pick up some of it before flicking it towards your roommate, who squeals before scooping some up and throwing it in your direction as well.

“Ready for our first shitty college drink?” You pull her through the mass of other students and towards the horribly decorated tiki bar stationed in the corner of the patio.

“Hell yeah, let’s do it.”

The two of you stumble over, still throwing handfuls of foam at each other amidst giggles before making a full stop in front of the bar. The older boy behind the makeshift counter lazily grins at you both, a shell necklace hanging loosely around his neck, and his unbuttoned orange Hawaiian shirt gives you a nice flash of his toned abs.

“Hey, I’m Johnny. What can I get for you two?”

“Two vodka shots, please.”

“Alright, ID?”

You freeze, and Karina’s grip on your arm tightens, and then Johnny laughs, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Relax, I’m just messing with you, freshie. Two vodka shots coming right up.”

He pulls out two small plastic cups and pours out the drinks for you. “How many do you want?”

“This is good for now, thanks.” You and Karina pick up the drinks, smiling a little nervously at him. He flashes another amused smile at you. “Alright, come back anytime if you want another.”

You move away from the patio, and Karina follows close behind. The two of you throw back the drinks and dispose of the empty cups quickly. The burning sensation in your throat disappears after a few seconds, and you turn to your roommate. “Should we find our friends?”

“I think I see Dejun back there! Let’s go say hi, I can introduce you to him.” Karina drags you through the rising foam, the bubbles clinging to your skin, and when you go past the DJ stand, you feel the pounding bass reverberating in your chest harder than ever. You trek past the gate and into the backyard where the foam has risen to your waist, thanks to the enclosed fences. She taps on the shoulder of a boy with the prettiest almond eyes you have ever seen, and you shyly smile at him when he greets you.

“Hey, I’m Dejun.”

Oh my god, even his voice sounds pretty. Older college boys are definitely better and hotter than high school boys. Heck, they’re better than freshman boys. Nobody wants to date a freshman dude, not even the freshman girls.

“Hi, I’m Y/N.” You extend your hand, but then realize how stupid that must be. You hastily start to retract your hand, but he laughs and warmly grasps your hand. Smiling at you, he shakes it firmly, squeezing your hand gently before letting go.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.”

The butterflies in your stomach grow in volume as the conversation goes on, and you’re positively enamored by the end of the night. Karina had given you a look earlier before walking off with Dejun’s friend and joining the dancing crowd. With the addition of his phone number in your pocket and a promise to show you a new song he’s working on with his guitar next Friday, you’re walking on cloud nine.

“Do you want something to drink? I need a refill, and I can go grab you one,” he asks, and you’re about to offer to go with him, but then you remember the teasing upperclassman and simply agree, asking for another shot of vodka.

After he disappears, you look around, eyeing the crowd and wondering if you can spot your roommate anywhere. You bump into someone lightly and turn around to apologize. Your eyes meet a pair of curiously bright ones.

“Sorry about that, I’m looking for my roomie.”

The boy gives you a Cheshire Cat grin. He’s wearing one of those dumb Hawaiian shirts, too, and it’s unbuttoned, but he has a white T-shirt layered underneath it. “No biggie, it’s a massive party and it’s crowded. Who are you looking for?”

“Ah, I don’t know if you know her, but Karina? She went off with this dude, Kunhang, I think?”

His eyes light up at that name. “Oh, I know him! I saw him earlier by the keg stands inside. Your friend might be there, too. I can—”

“THE COPS ARE COMING!” A loud voice bellows, and you freeze up. Suddenly, the music is shut off as everyone starts running away. You start to panic, the terror rising in your chest, and the boy in front of you grabs your hand and pulls you with him. “What are you doing?! Don’t just stand there! We gotta go!”

“Wait, but Kar—” You start to object, but cut yourself off when you bump into his back as he abruptly stops. He scans the backyard, quickly assessing the situation before turning to you.

“There’s way too many people trapped in here, we’re not gonna make it to the gate. We need to climb over the fence. I’ll hoist you up, and you can help me up from there.”

“I don’t even know you,” you protest, and he throws you a look.

“Hi, I’m Yangyang, nice to meet you, I don’t want to get my ass hauled out by the police and continue the icebreakers in jail, so let’s move now. We good?”

“Yeah, okay, we’re good,” you say faintly, mind still whirling around as you try to grasp the situation. “I’m Y/N.”

“Great, now up you go.”

He immediately picks you up without any warning, and you almost fall backwards, arms flailing before you grasp the top of the fence and pull yourself up. Balancing precariously on top of it, you grab his arm, tugging him up until he’s sitting right next to you, too. The both of you swing your legs over the fence and jump down to the other side. You let out a sigh of relief, squatting down as you clutch your heart.

“Oh my god, we made it. I didn’t get arrested at my first party.”

“What an amazing accomplishment.” Yangyang brushes off the back of his shorts. “We aren’t going to jail. Freshman year is gonna be a breeze if your bar is set this low.”

“Hey!” You frown at him, standing up and crossing your arms over your chest. “How do you know I’m a freshman?”

“It’s written all over your face.” You give him a look, and he relents. “Only a freshman would be this scared of getting caught.”

“So are you an upperclassman?”

“Nah, this is my first party, too. I’m rushing for Nu Chi. Hold on, wait here.” He sneaks around the edge of the fence, peering around for a few seconds before jogging back towards you. “Okay, the police are over there. I’m gonna have to wait a while before going back in.”

“You have to go back?”

“Part of tonight’s rush process,” he sighs before turning to you. “Do you live on campus?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna walk back now,” you answer, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “It’s late, and I’m not in a partying mood anymore.”

“I can walk you back,” he offers, and you shoot him a grateful smile.

“That’d be great, thanks.”

The two of you start the trek back, an awkward lull in the conversation making itself known. You wrap your arms around yourself, shivering slightly when a soft breeze picks up. There’s a light rustling noise, and you pay no mind to it until a soft cloth is draped over your shoulders. Eyes widening, you notice the colorful, palm tree-printed button down shirt wrapped around you and the boy next to you, looking straight ahead with his hands shoved into his pockets. Smiling to yourself, you slip on the shirt, loosely buttoning the front of it.

“So, Yangyang,” you casually begin, testing his name on your tongue for the first time. You decide you like it. It’s cute. He turns to you, raising an eyebrow, and you continue, “Since our lives are no longer in jeopardy, we can continue the icebreakers, right?”

His lips curve into a smile. “Alright, shoot. What’s your first question?”

“Captain America or Iron Man?”

“Oh, Iron Man, hands down. He’s so…”

You meet him in August.

FEBRUARY 2019.

“Hey, where’s your cereal? The Reese’s one?”

February marks six months of your relationship with Dejun. It also marks six months of your friendship with Yangyang. It is time for your weekly Sunday rituals of watching old cartoons and eating breakfast, and you could’ve sworn that box was still half full last week. You rummage through the top drawer Yangyang had designated for snacks and other foods in his dorm as he takes out the milk from his mini fridge and carries it over to his desk.

“I ran out a few days ago. There’s Cinnamon Toast Crunch somewhere in there though.”

With a victorious cry, you manage to pull out the slightly crushed box of the aforementioned cereal from underneath the packages of flamin’ hot Cheetos and spicy nacho Doritos and triumphantly bring it over to your best friend. He already pulls out two bowls (which were stolen from the dining hall) and hands over the plastic spoons in his grasp (which was also taken from the dining hall).

“Thanks.” After dropping a spoon into each bowl, you shake out the sugary cereal squares before pouring the milk because you’re not an absolute heathen who puts milk in first, like Sicheng. Yangyang clambers up to his top bunk bed, and you carefully pass over the two bowls of cereal, milk sloshing precariously near the edges. You climb up afterwards, and he gives you your bowl once you settle down.

“So, Scooby Doo or Pokémon?”

“Mm, we watched Pokémon last Sunday already, so let’s do Scooby Doo this time.” He nods in agreement, pulling up the cartoon from the queue in Netflix, and the two of you lean back against the ginormous mound of pillows and stuffed animals of his that occupy nearly half of his bed.

You’re shoveling a spoonful of cereal into your mouth when he casually asks, “So how’re you and Dejun doing?”

Choking slightly, you quickly swallow. “We’re doing good. I think he booked a table at the Italian restaurant down the street for Valentine’s Day. Are you doing anything for Valentine’s?”

“I’m forcing Renjun to come watch that “‘Happy Death Day’ movie with me.” The faint sounds of the Scooby Doo theme song plays in the background as you hum in acknowledgement, mouth twisting into a mischievous smirk.

“That’s so sweet. So who confessed to who? Not gonna lie, I thought you had a crush on Hyuck, not Jun.”

“... I would shove you right now, but I just did my laundry, and rewashing my comforter is expensive and I’m out of quarters.”

You stick your tongue out at him, and he rolls his eyes before lifting his bowl up to sip the best part of having Cinnamon Toast Crunch: the milk infused with all the cinnamony, sugary goodness. You let your spoon fall back into your bowl with a soft clink, a sudden worrying thought popping into your head.

“I bought him some customized guitar picks and a pretty composition book. Do you think he’ll like it?”

“That’s a pretty basic gift, isn’t it? It feels like something Kun would get him,” he teases, but his heart falls when he notices you chewing on your bottom lip, spoon held limply in your hand.

“Hey, I’m just joking, of course he would like it. He’s completely whipped. He’ll love anything from you.” Yangyang’s voice grows softer, and he fiddles with a stray thread on his comforter, avoiding eye contact with you. “I know I would.”

He looks up slightly and sees you smiling gratefully at him, eyes shining bright. He quickly ducks his head, turning away slightly to hide the hues of pink blooming on his cheeks. He feels you leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder with a quiet sigh, and his breath hitches in his throat.

“Thanks, Yang.”

Replaying the sight of your smile in his mind makes his stomach flip flop, and he resists the overwhelming urge to tell you you’re pretty, pushing it back into the farthest crevice of his mind.  Your head on his shoulder makes him feel like he’s carrying the entire world, and he doesn’t know what to do. He paints on a tight smile of his own, silently hoping you can’t hear the way his heart nearly pounds out of his chest.

Yangyang knows that having feelings for his best friend, specifically one of his good friends’ girlfriends, is something he absolutely should not be doing, but he can’t help it. His stupid heart refuses to listen to his brain. For now, all he can do is desperately hope that this dumb crush of his goes away soon because while 99% of his friends are oblivious (including you), Ten and Donghyuck are not. They’ll be able to spot his feelings from a mile away, like how Kun always knows when there’s a good sale going on at the Asian supermarket downtown (This week, it was the 50% off bean sprouts and chili paste).

Letting out an inaudible sigh, Yangyang carefully rests his head on top of yours. Clutching the empty bowl with one hand, he shoves his other one under his thigh to stop himself from reaching over and tangling his fingers with yours. He stares at the screen, watching until the bright colors blur together.

“Anytime.”

He likes you in February.

AUGUST 2019.

The earth spins around the sun for another time, and August makes its presence known once again. It’s Thursday night, and you’re sitting on the countertop in Nu Chi Theta’s kitchen, swinging your legs back and forth as Yangyang struggles to make some scrambled eggs because the half filled carton of eggs the two of you managed to find is the only thing that isn’t expired (besides Jeno’s protein shakes, but neither of you are gonna touch that cardboard tasting monstrosity).

“Maybe I should make it.” You peer over at the frying pan, wincing when you see the full damage of your future meal. “Did you use oil?”

“Of course I did!” he exclaims indignantly before pitifully pushing around the nearly charred mess of yolk and whites around with his spatula. “I’m not Mark.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you mutter, waving your hand around to dissipate the acrid burning smell, and Yangyang throws you a dirty look. He grabs a fork and stabs a small chunk of the eggs. Picking it up, he brings it closer to his mouth before hesitating. His eyes dart to you, and you raise your eyebrows at him, a silent challenge in your gaze. The sad piece of egg hovers in the air for a few more seconds before he defeatedly drops it back into the pan.

“Okay, what if we just Uber Eats some McDonald’s?” Turning off the stove, he then tosses the remnants of his cooking into the trash and drops the pan into the sink.

“Stellar plan. Best idea you’ve had all night.” You hop off the counter to stand next to him, propping your chin on his shoulder to see him pull up the app. He immediately puts in your usual order along with his before holding it up for you to see it better.

“Looks good?”

“Looks perfect.”

He clicks the confirmation button, and the delivery is set to come in 30 minutes. You’re suddenly hyper aware of how close you are with your chest pressed against his back and hastily move away, warmth spreading across your cheeks.

Glancing over at your best friend, you don't miss the way Yangyang smiles down at something on his phone before his fingers fly across the screen. When he looks up, you immediately turn away, focusing your eyes on anything but him.

“Hey, you’re going to the Alpha Sig formal, right?” Yangyang calls out, and you throw on a teasing grin.

“You mean Alpha Sigma Psi, also known as the sorority I’m in?”

“Ah, right, yeah.” He flushes, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “But you’re going, right?”

You nod, the sudden realization creeping up on you. “Oh yeah, I am, thanks for reminding me. I completely forgot to ask, but do you want t—”

“Ningning just asked me to go with her,” Yangyang blurts out, and you freeze, failing to hide your shock for a split second before you regain your composure.

“Oh wow, that’s great, Yang! I’ll see you there then.” You try to give him a convincing smile. He wrings his hands, biting his bottom lip. Something is on his mind. You can tell. He’s not someone to hold back with his words, but this time, he is.

“I… I don’t know if I’m gonna go,” he says at last. Your heart picks up a little at that. Does that mean he doesn’t want to go to the dance at all? Or does he not want to go with Ningning? If you asked him now, would it make a difference?

“I’ve never slow danced,” he confesses, leaning against the opposite counter, and your heart drops. So that was it. Of course, he wouldn’t reject Ningning. She’s an absolute goddess, heck, you wouldn’t say no if she asked you either. You stamp out that last flicker of hope.

“What if I suck at it?” he continues, absentmindedly carding his fingers through his hair. “Oh god, I bet Yukhei and Kunhang are never gonna let me live it down. I can do choreographed dances, but I’m gonna mess up over a stupid slow dance. But where am I supposed to put my hands?! Like on her shoulders? Her waist? Do I hold her hand?”

Your eyes follow the way his hair ruffles slightly, and you wonder if it’s as soft as it looks. You swallow hard before saying quietly, “I can teach you?”

His hand pauses mid-movement, and your eyes fly down to meet his. His eyes widen, and he contemplates your offer for a split second before nodding excitedly. “Yeah, that’d be great! Can you teach me right now? While we wait for our food to come!”

“S-sure,” you stammer, flustered at the sudden acceptance and his eagerness. “Um, here? In the kitchen?”

“Yeah, why not?” He shrugs before straightening up. “The lights should be dimmed, right? We can kind of mimic that here to set the mood or whatever.”

He goes over and fiddles with the light switch, flicking it on and off, and you laugh, walking over and placing your hand over his. “What are you doing? Some kind of Kevin Nguyen mating call to look for a rave bae?”

“First off, I’m offended that you think I’d be one of them,” Yangyang narrows his eyes at you. “Secondly, I’m trying to make this feel more formal dance-y. Oh, wait!”

He turns off the lights for the last time and reaches over to pull open the refrigerator doors, the artificial fluorescent light pouring out and mixing with the faint beams coming in through the window from the street lamps outside. He grins at you, satisfied. “Romantic, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but the amused smile on your face gives away your true feelings. “Wow, Romeo, you swept me off my feet. The food is gonna go bad, and Kun is gonna kill you for the high electricity bill.”

“What food? Jeno’s protein shakes probably never expire.” He snorts before standing closer to you, his hands resting on either side of you on the counter. You can see the pretty gold flecks in his irises, and your breath gets caught in your throat. “And I guess this means you gotta teach me fast before we waste more electricity, right?”

You place your hands on his chest and lightly push him away, and he laughs, stepping back. You let out a shaky breath, remembering that your lungs need oxygen in order to, you know, continue living.

“Okay,” you clear your throat before pulling out your phone and putting on a slow song. “Ready?”

“You chose Ed Sheeran? Thinking Out Loud? Really?”

You raise your hands up defensively. “Hey, he’s the king of sappy slow songs that all girls want to be played at their weddings for their first dance.”

When your legs don't work like they used to before,

And I can't sweep you off of your feet,

Will your mouth still remember the taste of my love?

Will your eyes still smile from your cheeks?

“Is this the song you want played at your wedding?” He raises an eyebrow at you, and your face grows warm. You ignore the question, and this time, you’re the one taking a bold step forward, a few centimeters now separating you and your best friend. You see his Adam’s apple bob as he gulps lightly before meeting your eyes.

And darling, I will be loving you 'til we're seventy,

And baby, my heart could still fall as hard at twenty-three,

And I'm thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways.

“So, your hands go here.” You take his hands and place them on either side of your waist. His arms freeze up. “Relax, Yang. Precious cargo here.”

He lets out a chuckle, loosening his grip as he starts to relax. You reach up and slide your arms around his neck, interlocking your fingers. You gaze back at him, saying softly, “Now pull me closer.”

He does so.

Maybe just the touch of a hand,

Oh me I fall in love with you every single day,

And I just wanna tell you I am.

“And now follow my lead. We’re going to take one step. And then another. We’re just slowly turning in a circle.”

After a few spins and steps, you stop leading and let yourself be led. Yangyang continues to hold onto you carefully, and you can hear him muttering a 1, 2, 3, 4 count under his breath until he finally gets the hang of it. He grows a little braver, pulling you even closer.

So honey now,

Take me into your loving arms,

Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars.

“Are you going with Dejun?” he asks quietly, and you stiffen at the mention at him before shaking your head.

“No, we broke up in July.”

Yangyang falters in his step before recovering. “Oh. You never told me.”

“Yeah.” You struggle to keep your voice level. “I just… he’s your friend, and I didn’t want to make it weird.”

“You’re my best friend though,” he says firmly, looking you directly in the eyes. His grip on your waist tightens. “It’s his loss. That dumbass just lost the best person who’ll ever come into his life.”

You give him a tired half smile, one that doesn’t quite meet your eyes. He hugs you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your waist and securing you against his chest. You rest your head in the crook of his neck and hope that he doesn’t feel how quickly your heart beats in your chest.

Place your head on my beating heart,

I'm thinking out loud,

Maybe we found love right where we are.

“Thanks, Yang,” you whisper, your breath tickling his skin. He envelops you tightly, and the two of you continue to spin in slow circles, quietly dancing in the refrigerator light as the remaining verses of the song warble in the background.

You think you finally understand what Dejun meant when he said he’s breaking up with you because your heart was already occupied by someone else.

You fall in love with him in August.

NOVEMBER 2019.

[ 12:54 a.m. ] yang 🐏🤪: hey you up?

[ 12:54 a.m. ] yang 🐏🤪: 7/11 in ten mins?

Tiredly rubbing your eyes, you stumble out of your dorm building, one of Jeno’s sweaters draped over your figure. November nights are cold, but this one seems chillier than usual. Yangyang stands near the front steps, and he stiffens up when he notices whose hoodie you’re wearing. He makes no mention of it though when you join him.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” He glances over to you as the two of you walk side by side to the small convenience store just on the edge of campus. You shake your head, shoving your hands into the front pocket of your sweater.

“I was up cramming for midterms. I could use a break anyway,” you shrug. A wisp of your hair falls in your face, and Yangyang starts to reach out to fix it, but forces himself to keep his hand by his side. You reach out to carelessly brush it away, tucking it behind your ear.

“What about you?” You look over at him, noting the bags under his eyes. “Rough night?”

He smiles tiredly at you, shoving his hands into his pockets as he kicks a stray pebble along the sidewalk. “More like rough week. Two more midterms left, and they’re for electromagnetic theory and linear systems.”

“Oh god, good luck. I took linear systems today, and it was absolutely brutal.” You wince, brightening up when you see the familiar neon orange, red, and green lights up ahead.

“Maybe I should just withdraw and take it again next quarter,” your best friend grumbles, kicking the stone as far as he possibly can.

“You really want another quarter with Hwang?”

“You’re right,” he sighs, “I just need to get a C+ to maintain my GPA. C if I’m pushing it.”

The two of you hurry over to the 7-Eleven, quickening your pace, until you reach the store doors, and you pull them open. Entering quickly, you push the door open slightly wider, and Yangyang slips in behind you. The cashier doesn’t even look up, texting away on his phone. You make a beeline towards the chips aisle, grabbing a bag of flamin’ hot Cheetos and a pack of sour gummy worms.

“What are you getting, Yang?” You call out over your shoulder, eyes zeroing in on the Red Bull stand at the end of the aisle. When you hear no response, you halt in your steps, turning around. Yangyang stands in the middle of the aisle, looking dazed under the fluorescent lights.

Putting your items back on the shelf, you approach him, reaching out and touching his arm gently. “Yangyang, what’s wrong?”

He jerks back before silently holding up his phone for you to see. There’s a slew of text messages from Ningning a few hours ago, and a quick scan tells you all you need to know. Your heart weighs heavily in your chest when you look back at him, a forlorn expression on his face.

“She dumped me,” he says quietly, shoving the phone back into his pocket. “She said our relationship was like a friendship. She didn’t feel anything. She said we could still be friends if I wanted to be though.”

He jabs a large bag of Lays potato chips angrily as his voice raises slightly higher. “But I don’t get it. Do friends take each other on dates? Do friends spend the night? Do friends hug each other and hold hands walking to class? Do friends spend three hundred dollars to do a surprise weekend trip for their birthday?”

He whirls around to face you, and he’s so close that you can see those pretty golden sparkles in his eyes again. Suddenly, his hands are cupping your face, and the next thing you know, he’s kissing you. Your eyes widen for a fraction of a second before they flutter shut, and you press your lips against his. The 90s pop station music playing overhead seems to fade away, and all you can focus on is that your best friend tastes like spearmint gum and grape soju. He pulls away abruptly, the realization of what he’s done finally hitting him as his chest heaves up and down.

“Do friends kiss like this?”

His voice is barely a whisper, but it cuts through the silence. You feel like you’re spinning out of control, a split second from careening and crashing.

“No, we—they don’t,” you mumble, and Yangyang sees the starstruck look in your eyes, and he wants to apologize: to say sorry for kissing you. But he doesn’t. Because for some reason, he doesn’t feel sorry. He closes his eyes, curling his hands into fists before exhaling slowly. He sees you looking back at him this time, and he wonders if you feel as equally lost as he does.

Because you’re right. Friends don’t kiss each other like that. Friends don’t feel like this about each other.

He kisses you in November.

AUGUST 2020.

The sun still shines bright late into the day, and August greets you like an old friend. You’re absentmindedly doodling in the margins of your notebook designated for Quantum Mechanics. Yangyang sits next to you in the lecture hall, making a bunch of origami cranes before tossing them at Renjun’s head right in front of him. When the bird reaches its target for the sixth time in a row, the annoyed boy whirls around in his seat, glaring at your best friend.

“Stop that,” he hisses, and Yangyang innocently raises his hands in the air. Renjun angrily frowns at him before turning back around in his seat. After a few minutes, Yangyang flicks another crane towards his friend. If this was a cartoon, you would see steam blowing out of your friend’s ears. You silently watch as he wordlessly picks up his phone, seething as he presses on a particular number.

Suddenly, Travis Scott’s SICKO MODE starts blasting, amplified by the large auditorium-like room. The professor goes silent, and everyone turns to see Yangyang scrambling to pick up his phone. He fumbles around for a few seconds with it before finally shutting it off and putting it on vibrate mode. Cheeks burning red, he meekly puts his phone back in his bag and squeaks out a “sorry” before sinking down in his chair (You can see the culprit grinning like the cat ate the canary right in front of him. Karma’s a bitch who also goes by the name of Renjun).

You pat his arm consolingly as he sulks next to you for a few minutes, mouth jutting out into a pout. You decide to take pity on him and lean closer to him, whispering quietly, “Would it make you feel better if I bought you boba after class?”

Immediately, he brightens up. “One oolong milk tea, half sugar with white pearls and coconut jelly?”

“Yes, I’ll pay for your overpriced drink,” you huff, thinking about how his one seven dollar drink could buy you a whole rotisserie chicken that’ll last you a week. At least the fluffy dog at Cloudy with a Chance of Boba is cute and fun to play with. “I’ll even get the honey waffle fries.”

“Heck yeah!” he whisper-yells, fist pumping quietly before he suddenly deflates. “Wait, I can’t. I promised Lia I’d get lunch with her.”

Ah, right, there’s Lia now. Yangyang’s new girlfriend: the only other student who went to Düsseldorf, Germany to study abroad over the summer, and inevitably, the two of them became close. All you really know about her is that she’s pretty, she’s in Iota Theta Zeta, and she followed you on Instagram a few weeks ago (of course, you followed her back because of the unspoken best friend and girlfriend policy).

Her page looks carefully curated, and there’s a common pink tinted theme going on throughout her feed. She has over a thousand followers, and it seems like Yangyang fits perfectly in her magazine curated life, judging by how he occupies nearly every picture taken in the summer with her or how he’s tagged as the photographer. You can’t deny that they look good together, pointedly shoving the green eyed monster back under the bed.

You take a peek at your messy Instagram page where you only post pictures when you’re half drunk, so there’s no semblance of uniformity anywhere. You shrug at him, pocketing your phone.

“No biggie. I’ll see if Karina is up for some boba. She’s been holed up in the dance studio already, and it’s only week two of classes, can you believe it?”

“I remember Ten was the same way,” Yangyang hums, eyes fixated on his phone and fingers tapping away. He laughs quietly, lips curling into a pretty smile, and you glance over curiously.

“What’s so funny?”

“Hmm?” Yangyang finally tears his eyes away from his screen for a split second to look at you before another buzz takes his attention away. He’s distracted, lovestruck, and you wistfully smile before turning back to your notes.

“Sorry, what’d you say earlier?” he loudly whispers a few minutes later, and you barely glance up from the large bulbasaur doodle you’re in the progress of completing right next to the chart marking the wave functions for a bouncing ball that you had copied down from the blackboard.

“Oh, I just asked what was so funny,” you murmur, coloring in the flowers you drew around the Pokémon with your blue ballpoint pen.

He looks confused for a moment before lighting up. “Oh! It was just a German joke. It’s not really funny if I translate it though.”

“Got it, no worries.” You notice the professor starting a new example problem, and you abandon your drawing, focusing on the formulas rapidly filling up the chalkboards in front of you. A quiet chuckle echoes in your ears, and you pause in your note taking to look over and see your best friend still typing on his phone. You make a mental reminder to create a copy of your notes for him later on when you pass the library on the way to the dining hall.

“Hey, Y/N.” Yangyang nudges you gently. “Rain check on the boba?”

You offer him a soft smile. “Of course. Anytime.”

He gives you a quick grin in return before his attention returns to the device in his hand—or rather, the pretty girl behind those texts. Your best friend is sitting right next to you, but you’ve never felt so far away. You know distance makes the heart grow fonder, but you don’t think it’s possible to be even fonder of him than you are now. Bad habits are hard to break, and you’ve made a terrible one of loving him. No wonder it’s beginning to hurt so much.

You lose him in August.

DECEMBER 2020.

December is the coldest month of the year, yet it is also simultaneously the warmest with all the holiday festivities it brings. If Yangyang were to choose a month to describe you, it’d be this one. You are a walking paradox, a conundrum he might never solve, an oxymoron come to life. He doesn’t understand how you can be his best friend, yet feel like a stranger; a friend who he wants as a lover; someone who has created such an impact in his life, but disappears seamlessly here and there.

He wonders when you’ve gotten so distant. He wonders why he never noticed the way you seemed to slip away through the cracks until it’s now nearing the end of the year, and the last time he’s seen you in person was before the November autumn break.

But you’re here.

You’re standing right next to the punch bowl filled with spiked eggnog, wearing a garish knitted button down jumper with brightly colored Christmas lights decorating it. It’s perfectly in theme with the Ugly Christmas Sweater party Nu Chi is holding, and Yangyang is beyond ecstatic to know that you’re attending. He had texted you an invite two weeks ago, and you merely reacted with a thumbs up.

Yangyang swears he was going to follow up with you on that, but he got so caught up with midterms, then meeting Lia’s family for Thanksgiving, then studying for finals, and then finally, preparing for this party. Buying enough beer for twenty-three keg stands is a lot more difficult than it seems (Donghyuck’s car broke down halfway during one trip, and they all had to carry back the packs of beers to the house in 40 degree weather in their Sperry boat shoes and Patagonia long sleeves that definitely weren’t cut out for this kind of weather).

His girlfriend is somewhere in the room, wearing the other half of the reindeer sweater she forced him to put on, but all he can focus on is you. He hurriedly makes his way over, skidding to a stop in front of you, and you’re startled before a smile spreads across your face.

“Hey, you, I haven’t seen you in a while.” You grin at him, reaching out to poke the reindeer tail sticking out from the front of his itchy sweater (Lia got to wear the head half of the reindeer, while he was stuck with the behind).

“Yeah, how have you been?” He reaches around you to pick up a cup and pour himself some eggnog. He offers you one, but you decline with a small shake of your head.

“I’ve been doing good, a bit tired with finals coming up, but what’s new?” You joke, grabbing one of the sugar cookies from the table. You’re secretly surprised that they actually have real food (No, Hyuck, Jell-O shots do not count as real food). You suspect Jaemin has something to do with it. He always contributes to the annual Greek row bake sale.

“Are you here with someone? Did Karina come?” he asks, curiosity coating every word. He looks around for your roommate, but she’s nowhere to be found.

You shake your head. “No, I actually came with—”

“Me!”

Yukhei bounds over, slipping an arm over your shoulder. He hands you a new cup of apple cider, which you accept gratefully. He grins happily at Yangyang, who freezes up at the sight of his tall friend. “I asked her to be my date for the party, and she agreed. She also made our sweaters! Aren’t they so cool? There’s even lights that spell my name and play Christmas songs. She did a bunch of cool programming tricks to make them work.”

Yangyang realizes with a start that the two of you are indeed wearing matching sweaters, and that leaves a rather sour taste in his mouth (and it definitely wasn’t because of expired eggnog). The corners of his lips tilt downward as he presses his lips together tightly.

“So… you two are together?” He gestures between you and Yukhei with a forced laugh. Jealousy never did look good on anybody, and unfortunately, he’s not an exception.

“We’re just seeing each other and seeing how it goes for now,” you answer quietly, noting the way your best friend reacts. You have always been good at reading him, and you tread carefully now, not wanting to make a scene. Drunk Yangyang never holds anything back, and he’s had quite a few pre-game shots already (It definitely doesn’t help that he’s a lightweight, too).

“I see. How did you guys meet? Or I guess, start talking?” He attempts to look intimidating, staring down at Yukhei, but it’s a difficult feat to accomplish, especially when he’s trying to stare down a six foot guy who’s more like an overgrown puppy and his friend.

“Oh, she came by for one of your boba runs, but you were still out with Lia. So I asked if I could go with her.” Yukhei flashes his pearly whites at you, and you chuckle, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“I said yes, and we hit it off, I guess.”

“You guess? And you took him on our boba runs?”

“You were out with Lia,” you say defensively, and he blanches when he hears his girlfriend’s name come out of your mouth.

“You could’ve waited,” he mutters, but you still hear it, and you give him a scathing look, finally too tired of this push and pull game that’s been going on behind the scenes for nearly three years now.

“I did. I waited over an hour here for you, but you didn’t show up or even text me that you were gonna be late. Yukhei was nice enough to offer to go with me.”

He stays silent, and you gnaw on your bottom lip, unsure of what to say next. Yukhei looks at you in concern, but you reach up and squeeze his hand reassuringly, which your best friend doesn’t fail to notice, his lips pressing into an even thinner line.

“I don’t understand what the deal is,” you finally burst out, startling both boys. “What’s the big deal about me and Yukhei going out?”

Something inside of him finally snaps. “The big deal is that you’re basically sleeping through my list of friends and then breaking up with them! First Dejun, then Jeno, now Yukhei? Who’s next? Should I give Renjun a heads up? Pencil you into his planner? Or Sicheng?  Sungchan? You have a class with him, so you’re bound to flirt with him, too, right? When are you gonna stop fucking around with my frien—”

He gasps, stopping mid-outburst as he stares at you in disbelief. Apple cider slides down from his hair, dripping onto his face and soaking into his sweater, the sticky juice clinging to his skin uncomfortably. You’re absolutely seething, the empty cup crackling in your clenched fist. Shocked, Yukhei carefully tugs the plastic away from you and places it on the table before replacing it with his own hand, his thumb caressing circles on the back of your hand soothingly. Yangyang doesn’t dare to meet his furious gaze, lifting his chin to look at you instead. The entire room has hushed down by now, all eyes staring directly at the three of you in a mixture of surprise and slight terror.

“Screw you, Yangyang,” you say lowly, voice shaking with anger. Tears form on the edge of your waterline, but you blink them away before hastily brushing a stray droplet from your cheek. “They asked me out. I said yes. We went out. It didn’t work out. We move on. Just like how you’ve gone out with my  friends. And they didn’t work out, so you moved on. So what’s so wrong about that? What’s so wrong about trying again to find love?”

He can’t answer you, curling his hands into fists until his fingernails indent miniature crescents in his palms—until the pain overtakes the feelings that are threatening to spill from his heart. Yangyang may not be yours, but he doesn’t like the fact that he can’t call you his either.

Love. That’s what you want, that’s what you crave, but not if it’s from him. So what is he supposed to do with love that’s unwanted? It’s bursting at the seams, and he has nowhere to hide it anymore.

He loves you in December.

AUGUST 2021.

August sneaks up on you this time around, and you find yourself in Kunhang’s apartment. All of your close friends are here, starting the last year of youth with one final first day party. You think back to that day three years ago: when your eyes met a pair of equally bright ones for the first time.

Curled up next to Yukhei on the couch, you look across the room and meet those very same eyes, although they seem hazier this time around. Lia is wrapped around his arm, and you think it’s quite ironic how both your and his relationships remain the same after all this time. Perhaps you both were bad luck for each other, leading to the other’s demise with short lived relationships. He looks away from you.

The rules of truth or dare are simple. You cannot ask the same person again until three other people have been asked first, and no one can be asked more than three times in each round. And, for reasons you can’t understand, everyone seems to take the code of truth seriously.

“I’ll start,” Kunhang announces, leaning back in one of the several beanbags he has in his place. “Goeun, truth or dare?”

Goeun sighs, leaning back on the palms of her hands. “Dare.”

“You and Mark, seven minutes in heaven.” Hendery points towards the coat closet, and the immediate reaction of hoots and wolf whistles has the girl rolling her eyes. With an exasperated huff, she stands up and pulls a red faced Mark along with her.

“Wait, you gotta pick the next person!” Donghyuck calls out, and she stops in her tracks, throwing open the closet door and shrugging. “You can choose for me.”

With that, she and Mark disappear behind the door, and Donghyuck turns toward the rest of the group, eyes glimmering mischievously. You pay no attention to him, absentmindedly playing with Yukhei’s fingers. You tug one of his rings off his finger, and he smiles, plucking it from your grasp carefully before holding your hand. He carefully slides it onto your right ring finger, but it falls off. Grinning, he pretends to try it on every single one of your fingers until finally settling on your thumb. The ring fits snugly there, and you admire it, wriggling your thumb around.

“Well, look at that. It fits you. I think that means we’re meant to be,” Yukhei says, smiling broadly, and you laugh, interlocking your fingers with his again before glancing down at the silver engraved band resting on your finger. The weight of the metal feels heavy resting against your knuckle.

“Yangyang, truth or dare.”

Donghyuck’s voice cuts through your thoughts, and you instinctively perk up in your seat at the sound of his name before freezing up in your spot. Yukhei squeezes your hand softly, and you tighten your grip around his fingers.

“Truth.”

“You’re no fun,” Donghyuck sighs, slouching back against the armrest. Yukhei leans over and whispers something in his ear before settling back next to you, shifting slightly to wrap his arm around you. Donghyuck lifts an eyebrow at your boyfriend before shrugging. “Okay, here’s an easy one. Are you in love…”

“Yes.”  is his immediate response, and you notice how Lia absolutely preens next to him.

“… with Y/N?”

Your breath hitches in your throat, and you immediately turn your head to look at Yukhei, your eyes growing wide in horror. He looks apologetic, shoulders drooping. “I’m sorry, but just the way he looks at you, it’s so obvious, and I had to know.”

You whip around to face the boy in question. With bated breath, you look at him, but Yangyang stares at the center of the floor, struggling internally. Everyone is quiet, and it reminds you of the calm before a storm. At last, he looks up, gazing right at you, and you can almost swear that you see those pretty little gold flecks in his irises from here.

“Yes,” Yangyang confesses quietly.

There’s almost a collective gasp rippling through the room, and Yukhei lets out an inaudible swear under his breath. Your grip on his hand grows slack as you fumble to get a grasp on the entire situation.

He loves you. He loves you. He loves you.

The words echo in your mind like a mantra until it grows so loud that you can’t hear any of your own thoughts anymore. Lia is in absolute hysterics, demanding an explanation from him, but he merely shrugs her off. Standing up, he quickly moves to leave the room, glancing at you one more time before disappearing out the front door.

It’s like your body is on auto-pilot after this. You drop Yukhei’s hand, immediately standing up and rushing after your best friend, paying no mind to the hushed whispers that only seem to increase in volume once you leave. You step out onto the porch, and there he is, sitting on the steps.

You quietly stand behind him, contemplating what to say and carefully choosing your next words. But there’s only one question on your mind.

“Why did you say that?”

He stays silent for a moment, staring out at the moon shining brightly ahead. “Because I meant it.”

Your heart wrenches in your chest. “You shouldn’t.”

He finally turns to look at you, an indescribable look in his eyes. It reminds you of heartbreak. “But I do. And I tried not to for the past three fucking years, but I can’t anymore.”

“Since freshman year?” You feel the tears well up in your eyes, and this time, you let them go. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Yangyang grips onto the edge of the stairs tightly, frustration ringing with every word that falls from his mouth. “Because I was scared. And I thought you never felt the same way. You’re my best friend, and I didn’t want to lose you.”

“Yang…” You whisper, hand reaching out as you let it hover over his shoulder for a few seconds. Then, you pull back, curling your fingers into fists, pressing crescent indentations into the palms of your hands.

He stands up, whirling around to look at you, desperate. “Tell me I’m not too late. Please, Y/N.”

Something inside of you breaks. You open your mouth and start to say something when the door opens behind you. Turning around, you see Yukhei. His eyes widen when he sees the two of you standing there.

You know this is it. This is the moment. This is where you have to decide.

“I, I was just looking for you. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.” Yukhei awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, taking a step back. “I’m sorry, I’m gonna go back in and—”

“No, wait, it’s okay,” you gently interrupt him. You reach out and slip your hand into his, and he relaxes, giving you a relieved smile. You smile softly back at your boyfriend before turning to face him, eyes apologetic.

“I’m sorry, Yangyang.”

He and you are asymptotes: two lines curving towards each other, but never touching; two hands reaching towards each other, but never interlocking; two people tangling their red strings of fate, but never tying.

You give him one last glance before going back inside with Yukhei.

You break his heart in August.

SEPTEMBER 2021.

September is supposed to be a new beginning: the transition from summer to autumn. Yangyang doesn’t think he can let go of you as easily as the trees shed their green for gold and red. Wherever he goes, wherever he looks, little reminders of you bloom in every crevice. You’re absolutely everywhere and nowhere, and it drives him crazy.

He thinks he’s gone completely insane when he hears your laugh while he’s walking to the laundromat one day. He shoves his airpods in and continues on his way until he sees you. Walking across the street, there you are. You’re on the phone with someone, and he contemplates going over to say hello. But suddenly, you’re hanging up the phone and waving eagerly at someone. When he turns his head to look, his heart drops and gets buried six feet under. He hurriedly ducks into a nearby bookstore and watches as you run up to Yukhei, slipping your hand into his like it’s second nature to you now. The two of you walk off together, and Yangyang is left standing at the window of the store until the shop owner politely asks if there’s anything he needs.

He doubts a time machine is something they have in stock, so he silently shakes his head and steps out onto the street once again. It is now silent and empty.

He loses you in September.

AUGUST 2022.

A lot can change in eleven months.

You’re twenty two years old, but you feel like you’re eighteen again. You know you’re going to see him for the first time since September at Kun’s housewarming. You had repeatedly assured Yukhei that you’d be fine. After all, life goes on; the world doesn’t stop just because you had a falling out with your best friend, even if it may have been a little more than that. Nevertheless, a year has nearly passed. Time is known to be the best healer, and perhaps your heart has shed its old skin and habits.

Your hand is safely enveloped in Yukhei’s, and the two of you walk towards your older friend’s new apartment. He playfully swings your interlocked hands back and forth, and you giggle, tightening your grip around his fingers. You stop in front of the door, the muffled sounds of a party slipping through the cracks. You suck in a breath, shoulders tensed. He’s in there.

“Are you okay?”

Yukhei squeezes your hand gently, voice laced with concern. You remember to breathe, exhaling slowly and relaxing before nodding. You smile up at him. “I’m okay.”

“If you want, we can go back home now, have another NCIS marathon, and drink this by ourselves.” Yukhei waves around the nice bottle of wine the two of you had brought for Kun. “We can even stop by the convenience store and get some ramen.”

You laugh quietly, the corners of your lips upturning with mirth. “It’s okay, I’m fine, Yukhei, I promise. Plus, I have you, right?”

He brightens up at that, practically beaming at you, and your heart skips a beat. “Right!”

You reach out and knock on the door. Kun greets the two of you, and you enter his apartment. Yukhei still doesn’t let go of your hand, and you follow behind him as you weave your way through the living room, greeting some of your friends. You hear Kunhang calling out to your boyfriend from the kitchen and feel him hesitate next to you. You squeeze his hand gently before letting go and nudging him in the direction of his friend. Yukhei gives you one last look, but you wave him off, smiling goodnaturedly and silently assuring that you’re okay. He swoops down and leaves behind a soft kiss for you before going.

You walk over to the alcohol table, pouring yourself something to drink. Leaning against the wall, you take a sip of your drink, your eyes flitting over the rim of your cup and slowly scanning the room. It feels like forever, like everything is moving in slow motion, like the world is submerged underwater, but it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds.

You find him easily. After all, it’s hard to forget someone whose features you’ve memorized over the past four years. Your eyes map the delicate outline of his face once more, and for a moment, you wonder if red is still his favorite color, or who he shares a carton of Ben and Jerry’s with nowadays. You wonder if he thinks of you sometimes, too.

But then, you wonder where Yukhei is. You search around until you see your boyfriend still standing in the kitchen, laughing at something your mutual friend said. Your eyes soften when you see him grab your favorite snack. You turn back around, your heart swelling in your chest tenfold, and your lips curl upwards, an endeared expression on your face.

That’s when you notice that he’s looking at you.

You brace yourself, waiting for the tidal wave of emotions to wash over you and the quickening of your heart rate to greet you like an old friend. Because that’s what always happens when you’re around him. After all, he is the biggest what-if in your life. He is someone you almost loved forever, someone you almost stayed for.

And yet, nothing happens. You wait a little longer. The world still goes round, and you’re still breathing. There’s no shortness of breath, no erratic heart palpitations, no sweaty palms, absolutely nothing. Liu Yangyang is a stranger in a familiar body, and your heart remains still.

You give Yangyang a faint smile, nodding towards him, and it feels like a sudden jolt in his heart. Time stops, and all he can see is you. You look beautiful. You have always been beautiful. This is his chance. Whatever higher entity out there has taken pity on him and given him a second try to make it right. He finally takes a step towards you, and the tender, encouraging expression in your eyes gives him the strength to take another one. After all, the eyes are the windows to the soul. Clutching his drink in hand, he pushes his way through the crowd. He’s only eight, seven, six, five steps away from you now. A smile grows on his face as relief curls around his heart like a bandage. You’re standing there, waiting for him, smiling at him.

And suddenly, you’re no longer looking at him.

You stopped looking at him.

Yukhei makes his presence known next to you, excitedly chattering about something and gesturing towards the kitchen as he hands you something to eat. It’s a snickerdoodle cookie. Your favorite. Your eyes are fixated on the tall boy, positively sparkling as you beam at him.

Yangyang feels like he can’t breathe. The bandage is ripped off, and all he can feel is excruciating pain like a thousand pinpricks into his heart before the numbness hits. He freezes, rooting himself in that spot on the scratched hardwood floor as his colleagues and friends continue to jostle around him. As his world crumbles around him, he can’t tear his eyes away from you. They stay on you, the barest traces of nostalgia lingering in the dimmed golden flecks of his irises that you had still admired all those months ago. It’s like he’s trapped in a silent film, stuck in a fish bowl and swimming in circles, and he watches in horror as you outstretch your hand and intertwine your fingers around Yukhei’s, leaning up to press your lips against his tenderly. Your boyfriend looks at you like you hung the stars in the night sky yourself (He would believe it if you said you did).

You don’t look at him like that anymore.

Yangyang remembers when you used to. When you used to love him. When you were almost his. He feels something inside of him break for a second time.

The world continues to spin, and yet, he’s still not moving. He’s stuck in quicksand, sinking deeper and deeper as everyone around him moves on—as you move on. He desperately tries to keep you in his view, and his feet finally pick up as he lurches forward. He’s not fast enough. You’re slipping away, walking away from him, hand in hand with Yukhei, disappearing around the corner of the hallway, and he can’t do anything about it. It’s too late. He’s too late. The sticky remnants of cheap beer run down his wrist, and it finally registers in his mind that he had crushed the flimsy plastic cup in his hand sometime in between now and then. In a crowded room full of people, he’s left standing there, alone and lonely.

Almost is the worst way to love someone, Yangyang bitterly realizes. It hurts to lose someone you almost love. No, it was never an ‘almost’. He most certainly loved—loves—you. And it should be impossible to lose someone who was never his to begin with, yet he has. All this time, he thought he had you, but it had always been the other way around.

He was your August, he was your everything, and he is yours.

But you will never be his.

You let go of him in August.

#yangyang imagines #yangyang scenarios #nct imagines #wayv imagines #nct scenarios #wayv scenarios #yangyang fluff #yangyang angst #nct fic #nct fluff #nct angst #wayv fluff #wayv angst #nct fanfic #nct scenario #yangyang x reader #liu yangyang #yangyang #nct #wayv

[shorkbrian]

A Midsommar Night’s Dream

Prelude - I watched midsommar so have this.

Pairing - Izuku X reader X Todoroki males

Warnings - NSFW, dead dove, do not eat. Implied incest, cult-like behaviors. Dubcon.

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/7clyJIrLkEbXUDwj1tC9zz?si=EK3gCdOHQ3WQeK-ed9eucg 

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Izuku’s been officially dating you for three weeks.

Three weeks.

He’s known you for far longer - the two of you solid friends since you first met. The man doesn’t know when friendship had evolved into something more, but he’s sure glad it did.

You were sweet, and kind, and far too caring for your own good. You didn’t mind waiting up for Izuku when his nights ran late, studying for his masters or taking on extra shifts.

You would rub his shoulders when he got stressed, offer to make him tea or run him a bath or anything else he needed, anything to help out. You loved him, and he loved you.

Tonight was a night that many partners might fear - meeting the family.

But Izuku was hardly worried. He was best friends with your brother Shouto, a level-headed student with good work ethics and a dry sense of humor. The rest of the family couldn’t be that bad.

A simple dinner, you had told him, dress casual and no gifts required. Still, Izuku felt obligated to bring the finest bottle of bourbon his paycheck could afford him (he’d asked Shouto what your father’s favorite was, just to be safe).

The Todoroki household was impressive; massive and imposing in the countryside, surrounded by tall stone walls and looking straight out of a victorian romance novel. Izuku knows what those look like, because he’s seen them on the covers of the romance novels you like to read. He’s always doing his best to pay attention to your likes and dislikes.

“Izuku!” came your excited little voice as the door opened after his loud knock, and the green-haired man couldn’t stop himself from breaking out in a smile.

You were almost bouncing in excitement behind your older brother Shouto as he held the door open, taking the offered bottle of bourbon from Izuku with a nod before leaving you alone together in the foyer.

“Hey, missed you-” Izuku grunted as you attacked him in a hug, and a laugh bubbled out of you both when the solid man had to take a step backwards from  the push of your body.

“Missed you too! I’m so excited for tonight, it’s so good that Dad and the rest of the family are accepting you.” A quick kiss to his cheek distracted Izuku.

You were fairly comfortable with physical touch, resting your head on his shoulder, never afraid to snuggle up to his side on movie nights, or hold his hand out in public (especially now that the two of you were dating). But Izuku had honestly expected more.... sensuality once the two of you started seeing each other as lovers more than just friends.

He had asked to kiss you one night, after you’d made him dinner and rubbed his shoulders and listened to him talk about the latest subject he was studying. Izuku had felt his heart warm, like cold wax cradled over a flame, and his love for you was bursting out of his chest. He wanted to kiss you and hold you close, tell you how much he loved you.

You had just smiled shyly and shook your head, saying you wanted to wait a bit. Which Izuku understood! This was all new, going from friends-to-dating, and he didn’t want to rush you or make you uncomfortable in any way. He was willing to wait.

So the kiss to his cheek surprised him, made him stutter and blush and hug you a bit tighter.

Then you were taking his hand, leading him through the maze of a house. He couldn’t help but notice the old-timey decorations mixed in with the more modern features, but done in an elegant, timeless fashion. A good blend of old mixed with new.

Stepping into the large dining room hand-in-hand with you, Izuku was met with the sight of the entire Todoroki family.

“Everybody-” You started, catching their attention until every set of eyes was on you and the tall man by your side. “This is Izuku!”

Shouto stepped forward, closest to the pair of you, and set his hand on Izuku’s shoulder with a smile. “Glad to have you joining the family.” 

Izuku smiled back, pulling his friend into a hug and giving him a hearty pat on the back.

“This is Fuyumi-” A tap to Izuku’s shoulder had him turning around, stepping away from Shouto to shake your sister’s hand. 

“Hi Izuku, I’ve heard such good things about you.” Her voice was soft and gentle, almost like your own. Izuku could see the family resemblance between the two of you. 

“And this is Natsuo, he’s studying for his masters just like you.” A white-haired man approached him, friendly and open, ready to shake Izuku’s hand but ultimately pulling him into a hug. 

“Sorry, I’m a hugger.” Natsuo laughed, and Izuku shrugged, completely unbothered.

“Here’s Touya.” You introduced a redhead next, a man sitting almost sullenly at the table. He didn’t rise to his feet, didn’t even take Izuku’s offered handshake. 

“This is the guy you’ve been babbling about? He looks bori-”

“Touya.”  The room, already hushed, grew even more silent, almost heavy with the weight of the voice from the man at the head of the table.

The gangly redhead shut his mouth, looking ready to roll his eyes. You pulled Izuku past him towards the imposing man who was looking at the man at your side, appraising him.

“And this is my dad. Dad, this is Izuku.”

“A pleasure to meet you sir.” Izuku shook the mans large hand, and the man nodded solemnly.

“Sit down, we’re ready to eat.”

-----

Dinner wasn’t a quiet affair. Comfortable conversation flowed easily between everyone; questions about Izuku’s degree, about his goals, his dreams, his job. He knew it was just everyone getting to know him, assurance that he was suitable for their daughter. Izuku wanted to be perfect for you, anything and everything you needed.

Enji (Izuku was not about to call your father dad) asked only a few questions, otherwise decidedly quiet at his spot at the table, chewing his food while watching Izuku respond to the rest of his family. 

It was mainly Fuyumi, Natsuo, and Shouto keeping the conversation flowing, Izuku easily keeping up with whatever they decided to talk about, asking engaging questions of his own about the family members he’d just met, laughing easily whenever you made a pun or Shouto’s dry humor jumped out.

Everything seemed to be going well. 

Fuyumi asked to be excused, saying she needed to go prepare, and Enji waved her off easily, telling you to go with her. You rose from your chair easily, but not before catching Izuku’s hand and giving it a squeeze, eyes shining as you leaned close to whisper “See you in a bit.”.

“You really love her?” Touya asked as soon as the two women left the room to go prepare dessert, leaving Izuku alone with the male Todoroki’s. Izuku assumed this would be when he gets the shake-down, the usual “Hurt her and we’ll kill you” talk.

“So much. Sometimes I feel like I love her so much that I don’t know what to do with myself.” Izuku confessed.

“She talks about you a lot. I think she feels the same way that you do.” Natsuo supplied from across the table, and Izuku felt his cheeks flush, his heart flutter. It was one thing to know you loved someone - to feel the warmth and peace it brought to your soul. It was another to know that they loved you back; it made him feel whole.

“I've seen how you treat her, I think the two of you are a good match.” Shouto said, and Izuku smiled at his friend. Shouto had been his buddy since high school, truthfully was the reason that Izuku and you had met. You’d come along with Shouto one day when he’d come to hang out with Izuku, and the two of you had become fast friends.

Natsuo was rising from the table, walking back to the little shelf along one wall where various drinks sat (and Izuku’s bourbon gift). Izuku watched the man begin to pour out a red liquid, before his attention was caught by Shouto leaving the table as well, taking his plate and exiting the room.

Then Natsuo was placing a glass of the red liquid down in front of Izuku. “Don’t worry, this is nothing more than homemade punch.” He said as Izuku eyed it.

“It’s tradition.”  Touya growled and Izuku found himself taken aback at the heat in the other man’s voice. Was the redhead angry at him for some reason? 

“Touya, calm down.” The eldest Todoroki said, and Izuku almost wanted to cower himself at the sheer dominance exuding from the powerful man. “Izuku is becoming family. You will be happy for your sister, not jealous.”

Touya huffed, grumbling under his breath before shoving his seat away from the table. “Just don’t fuckin’ hurt her, got it? She’s my baby sister.” 

“I would never-” But Touya is already storming out of the room, uncaring of Izuku’s assurances.

Natsuo sighs. “Don’t mind him, he just.... doesn’t like change.”

“What is this again?” Picking up the red drink, Izuku swirled it around the glass, trying to change the subject and hopefully smooth over the tension. Most of the tension had dissipated when Touya left, but it never hurt to be proactive. 

“It’s a tea we brew and sweeten ourselves. We grow the plants in the backyard, you’ll see them soon.” Natsuo explained.

“It’s tradition?” Izuku parroted Touya’s earlier words, before taking a quick sip. It was delicious tea.

“Yes, we like to welcome those who are approved to join the family.” Natsuo laughed a little. “Fuyumi’s husband thought we were trying to drug him. It’s really just tea.”

Izuku snorted. It tasted like tea, why would someone think the Todoroki’s were trying to drug them? Sure, the family might be a little odd, but they weren’t malicious... right?

Before he knew it, his cup was empty and Natsuo had slipped out of the room, leaving Izuku alone with the head of the household, Enji.

Where were you? And why had everyone else left the room?

“I’m very particular about who I allow in my house, boy.” Enji started, and Izuku suddenly felt.... uneasy.

“Not everyone thinks the same way as the Todoroki’s. But you seem to be a bright young man. Educated. You aren’t going to be any trouble, are you?”

The last question wasn’t posed as such. It was a statement. 

Still, Izuku shook his head. “No sir, I have no intentions of causing trouble.” Why did this casual dinner feel so serious? there was so much emphasis on being accepted into the family, on being welcomed. Izuku recognized how big of a deal that was but still... it’s not like you were about to marry him. He was planning on that a few years down the road.

“Come with me.” Enji instructed, wiping his mouth with his napkin before his impressive bulk hefted itself out of his chair. Izuku felt tiny next to the patriarch, following the man through the dark, empty house.

He wanted to ask where Enji was taking him. Where you had disappeared to, where the rest of the family had gone. But that would be rude, so Izuku kept his mouth shut.

Outside it was dark, moon shining dimly through the sky, the residual warmth of the summer day still held in the air. Izuku followed Enji through the back door, down along a path, into the plentiful, green backyard.

To a grove of trees, torches flickering from within the grove, small bushes and beautiful flowering plants dotted among the trees. A garden, Izuku realized. Those must be the plants and bushes that produce the tea Natsuo had given him.

Then there you were, in a little clearing among the trees.

Sitting on a dark blanket, knees drawn to your chest and ankles crossed in front of you as you hid your body.

Izuku started - you were naked.

Touya was kneeling beside you, a hand on your shoulder as he talked to you gently, barely sparing Izuku and his father a glance as they strode into the torch-lit clearing, Touya’s attention truly focused on you.

Shouto and Natsuo stood in the light, watching you, watching Izuku.

“What is this?” Izuku sputtered, and upon hearing his voice you looked away from Touya, a smile lighting up your face as you saw your Izuku.

“This is tradition boy.” Enji laid a heavy hand on Izuku’s shoulder. “Now strip down, my little girl’s been waiting.”

Izuku’s head swirled.

Touya stood up, shooting the green-haired man a lazy glare before moving to stand by his brothers, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Izuku...” Your sweet little voice called for him, and green eyes snapped to your form on the ground, watched as, with a nod from Enji, you slowly unfurled your body to expose yourself to your lover.

A stab of arousal hit Izuku in his gut, watching your soft-looking skin be revealed. 

Pert breasts, a squishy tummy, glistening folds ready and twitching between your legs. 

You were drenched.

There was so much shiny slick, all over your thighs and dripped onto the blanket, Izuku couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t think straight. It was impossible for you to be that wet on your own, you must have used lube or something to prepa-

It hit him; You and Fuyumi hadn’t gone to prepare dessert.

“You just gonna stand there all night like an idiot? Take your clothes off and fuck her you dwee-”

“Touya.” Enji growled, silencing his son immediately. Then the man turned to  Izuku, easily pushing him forwards towards you. “You’ve been accepted into the family; that’s an invitation you don’t want to refuse.”

With a sigh, you easily laid down onto your back, legs still spread for Izuku to look at you, hands coming up to rest shyly over your breasts.

“Don’t do that, let him see.” Shouto murmured, and immediately your hands dropped in obedience. Shouto hummed in approval, before bi-colored eyes swept up to look at Izuku, urging his friend forward with a tilt of his head down to your form.

With trembling hands, Izuku fumbled with his pants, unzipping them with a bit of difficulty, undoing his belt, working on the buttons of his nice shirt the he had worn to make a good impression when he met your family for the first time.

It took him a moment to undress, a red blush creeping up over his cheeks and down to his chest as he bared his body to the Todoroki’s.

He didn’t think he was small, but he wasn’t big either; average. Izuku was confident in his size, didn’t really know or are how he stacked up against other guys, and the girls he’d been with before hadn’t complained.

Still, he felt embarrassed to be naked in front of other people, to be on display. But there wasn’t another option, was there? (Izuku didn’t know if that was such a bad thing)

Two short strides before dropping to his knees in front of you on the blanket, his throat dry and his palms sweaty. 

“Are you-” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Are you okay with this?” 

Your head nodded yes, a pleased, yet shy grin on your face. “Of course. I want you.”

The softness of your voice, of your body, Izuku felt dizzy as he shuffled forward, close enough to touch. Still hesitant, worried about the male Todoroki members watching from the sidelines, brain racing to work through the strangeness of the situation, the utter oddity of this... ritual that was currently taking place.

But then you were sitting up, hands circling around his neck, pressing your lips to his with crushing finality.

He was a part of the family now.

It felt good to kiss you, soft lips pressed together, little huffs of breath from your nose as you kept going. Izuku took the freedom of circling his hands around your waist, almost gasping at the plushness of your flesh, melting against you with a groan as your lips kept pressing to his.

“I’m all ready, just-just put it in.” Your breathless little confession tumbled out as soon as you pulled away from your first real kiss with Izuku, a blush high on your cheeks.

But it was Izuku’s turn to blush, sitting between your legs like a fumbling virgin. “I’m not hard yet, but I can, uhm, finger you. Or we can kiss for a little bit mo-”

“You aren’t even hard? Touya’s sneering voice cut through Izuku’s babbling. “Look at my sister. She’s fucking soaking the ground. That’s not hot to you?”

Izuku stuttered, eyes flickering down to where your legs were opened, pretty little cunt twitching. It’s like you were begging to be touched, and Izuku was a sucker for begging.

“No, that’s so hot, oh my god.” He breathed, fingers instinctively reaching to swipe through your wetness, relishing the way you gasped and shuddered as his hand made contact with your body.

“She’s so soft too, got tits like little pillows. You should lick ‘em, she likes that.” Touya continues, and Izuku wants to point out that the reason he’s not completely hard yet isn’t because he’s not insanely turned on by the beautiful creature in front of him, but because he’s feeling weirded out by all her brothers and her dad watching intently from the sidelines.

Yet he does what Touya suggests, leaning forward to put his mouth on your chest, tongue darting out to drag against your skin. 

The eldest Todoroki was right about you being soft.

Izuku can’t stop his other hand from rubbing at your cunt more firmly, feeling your little hips twitch towards him, pressing your chest more firmly into his mouth.

“She’s so pretty.” Natsuo comments, but Izuku is hardly listening when he’s flicking at your clit, nursing at your tits. “She’s gonna feel real good around you Izuku, like a new fleshlight.”

“You better breed her good, boy.” Enji booms, and suddenly you’re scrabbling at Izuku’s arms, pulling his hair, whining “Please, Izuku please.”.

“Okay, shit, let me-”

“He must be really worked up, Izuku hardly ever curses.” Shouto announces, and fuck, he’s right -  but how could he not be worked up?

Izuku is hard, blood rushing so quickly to his cock that he feels lightheaded, taking himself in hand and giving his length a few dry pumps. He’s envisioning how sopping wet you’ll feel against him, staring, drooling over your cunt.

And then he’s lining himself up, kissing you hard, and pushing inside.

“Big, ‘s too big!” You panic, tears popping to your eyes but Izuku is quick to wipe them away, cooing at you and stilling his hips.

“Oh, don’t cry! Shh, I’ll go slow, ‘m sorry, I thought you were ready-”

“Natsu-” You cried, hand scrabbling into the ground above your head, reaching, searching for your brother.

“Hey, hey, I’m here.” The man was immediately on his knees by your face, clasping your hand fervently, leaning down to put a sweet kiss on your nose. “Breathe honey, in and out. It’s okay.”

“Noo I-I.... ‘M scared, he’s-he’s-ah!” A stuttered cry broke from your chest as Izuku shifted slightly, inadvertently pushing deeper.

“No, it's gonna be okay. It's just like when we do it, yeah? He's gonna be nice.” And Natsuo is looking at Izuku, fixing him with such a pointed gaze and Izuku gets the message. He’s going to be nice.

It’s not like he wasn’t planning on it - the green haired man loves you.

But then the breath is sucked out of his chest as he comprehends what Natsuo had just comforted you with, that-that.

That you’ve fucked your brother.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” Izuku chants, unable to stop his hips from inching back and forth, humnping into you in infinitesimal movements as arousal punches through his gut. “Sorry, I can’t stop-’h my god that’s-”

He can hear Touya cackle. “Damn, something really got him going.”

You were squeezing your eyes shut, clenching Natsuo’s hand so tight that the skin was whitening. Your brother didn’t seem to mind, more occupied with stroking your hair, eyes fixated on the soft jiggle of your breasts as Izuku humped you like a senseless virgin.

His breathing turned into wheezing, hitching when a presence was felt at his back.

“You can do better than that.” Enji’s hands were pressing against Izuku’s naked rear, making the green haired man flinch forward and away from the touch. But Enji merely pushed, propelling Izuku’s thrusts so that he would really fuck the warm, willing body beneath him.

“Izuk-Izu-Izuku-” You moaned, rocking your body to further spear yourself onto his cock, apparently finding the fast glide pleasurable as opposed to your hesitance earlier.

He leaned down to kiss you, both of you moaning into the kiss, hands wandering as you pushed to meet each other, Izuku’s stomach clenching tighter and tighter as he neared his release.

“She’s never had someone fuck her raw before...” Shouto mused, eyes glued to the scene in front of him, watching his best friend fuck his sister with the help of his family. “I wonder if it feels different.”

But his words were lost in the quick slap of skin meeting skin, Izuku’s grunts, your sweet little noises as you writhed and clutched at Natsuo’s hand, your other hand holding onto Izuku.

And then Izuku was gone, balls clenching and cock twitching inside you, pulsing as he shot his seed.

Your eyes fluttered shut, pulling your hand away from Natsuo to place it against your tummy, pressing right over where Izuku was still grinding against you. “Feels... feels so warm.”

Izuku was panting, sweat sticking his curls to his forehead, desire slowly swirling out of his body as he came. 

What the fuck had he just done?

Enji clapped him once on the back, before rising to his feet. “Welcome to the family, son.”

#dead dove do not eat #tw.dc #tw.dark content #tw.cult stuff #tw.incest #tw.nsfw #Todoroki family #dark Shouto todoroki #dark Enji todoroki #dark Natsuo todoroki #dark Touya todoroki #dark Fuyumi todoroki #dark Izuku midoriya #Yandere todoroki #Yandere shouto #yandere touya #Yandere natsuo #Yandere enji #Yandere fuyumi #Yandere izuku #dark content

[majestyeverlasting]

Could you do prompts 43 and 47 with fatws!bucky x reader? Thank you 😊

♡ Sure! Thank you for sending this request in, I appreciate your patience! These are quite the compatible prompts, and I tried my best to approach them in the most unique way I could manage. To give a summary as to what happens: Bucky and the reader attend a banquet in Washington D.C., but it isn't until afterwards that things take a peculiar turn as the result of a forgotten tube of lipstick. There's lots of cute moments and a little bit of a scare (but that's nothing a nice soak won't be able to ease away). Enjoy!

♡ Prompt 43: "Let me help you."

♡ Prompt 47: "Please let me take care of you, you’re bleeding.”

Remember the Good Parts

All around, there was dancing, talking, and laughter. Formality had been abandoned so that inhibitions could be released. The banquet hall of the hotel seemed elegant enough to have been fit for kings and queens. The paneling of the walls were trimmed with gold and each of the round tables were dressed in white cloth, floral centerpieces sitting in the middle. Hanging above it all were the most beautiful chandeliers. The crystals adorning them sparkled as if they were stars stolen from the night sky.

The invitation had been addressed to both you, and Bucky. Upon opening it, you learned that The Smithsonian Institute wanted to express their gratitude to the donors and sponsors who had shown continued support over the years. Especially in light of the new exhibits coming to the National Air and Space Museum. The evening itself was intended to be a time of meaningful dialogue and celebration.

The two of you didn’t hesitate to RSVP. Not only would it make for a well-deserved weekend trip, but was an opportunity to venture back to D.C. after being away from quite some time.

What came as a pleasant surprise that night was the moment in which you managed to coax Bucky up to dance. Not one word of protest escaped him as you led the way to where others had congregated and were moving to the rhythm of the music. A more relaxed song had started flowing throughout the room as the festivities were drawing closer to an end. You wrapped your arms around his neck and smiled when he placed his hands on your waist, squeezing gently.

“This has been nice,” he said.

You nodded. “It has.”

Part of you still hadn’t gotten over the way he’d cleaned up for the occasion. The dark strands of his hair were getting longer, and he’d gelled them back lightly. And the all black suit he wore made his blue eyes appear even bolder. After the two of you had been swaying for a while, you spoke again, “You know what I think?”

Bucky’s eyes flickered to your lips. You wore a rich, burgundy lipstick that complemented your dress and complexion. “What?” He encouraged.

“We ought to take a nice, warm bath when we get back up to our suite,” you thought aloud. “The tub is worlds bigger than the one we have at home.” Your fingers had begun to gently scratch at the nape of his neck.

He hummed. “That already sounds like a dream.” Then he leaned in to kiss you. It was short and as tender as the music in the air.

The event eventually did wind to its end. A Smithsonian spokesperson went to the main podium and made closing remarks about the importance of living in a way worthy of being remembered. It earned her a hearty round of applause and a few high-pitched whistles. Minutes later, attendees were filing out of the hall in a steady flow, some turning around to capture a final picture of the grandeur space. You and Bucky left right along with them, arms locked.

Nobody else was in the hallway when the two of you exited the elevator onto your floor. It was a long, empty stretch lined with warm lights. Taking advantage of that, you paced a few steps ahead of him and did a twirl as you walked—in a sleek pair of block heels, no less. The bottom of your dress caught the air in a graceful flow. When you looked back at him over your shoulder, he was shaking his head but his eyes were filled with adoration.

The first thing you did upon entering the suiet was go sit on the bed to take your shoes off. But Bucky spoke up, “Let me help you, pretty girl.” So one at a time, you raised your legs for him and watched the careful way he unbuckled your heels.

You smiled when he finished. “Thanks.”

“Mhm.”

That’s when you noticed the faint hint of pigment that your lipstick had left behind on him. “Hey, lean in for a second, Buck.” He obliged without question. You were still sitting on the edge of the bed. “There’s some…” You ran your thumb over his lower lip a few times.

“Lipstick?” He finished.

“Yeah—I got most of it off,” you said.

“It's a nice shade on you, by the way,” he said. "Very classy."

“Isn't it? I bought it a few days ago.” You dug into your purse in search of the tube, but it was gone. “Uh-oh.”

Bucky had begun to take off his suit jacket. “What?”

“I think I set it on the table just before we left the banquet... When I was looking for the card to our room.” A huff of air passed through your lips. “It’s probably been thrown away by now.”

He was quiet for a beat. “Not necessarily,” he said as he walked to hang up the jacket. “I can run back down and see.”

“Do you mind?”

“It’s no trouble,” he assured. “I’ll be right back. And then we can get to that bath you proposed earlier.” The wink he shot you on the way out made you bite back a smile.

I'll be right back, you replayed his words. But it came to the point when he'd been gone longer than what seemed necessary. That prompted you to peek your head out the door. All you were met with was the same long hallway, but with three strangers strolling down it. More time passed, and you found yourself on the bed again, preparing to call him.

A gentle knock on the door broke the stillness.

Bucky stood on the other side, a slender cut running across his left cheek a short ways beneath his eye. It wasn’t too bad, but blood had been drawn nonetheless. Before you could make an exclamation capable of disturbing the other guests, he slipped past you to get into the suite. It wasn’t until the door was closed that you attempted to vocalize the mix of concern and confusion swirling within your mind.

“Bucky!” Your eyes followed him.

“M'fine, doll,” he insisted.

“What in the world happened?” His slight frustration was evident in the way he resumed undressing as if nothing had occurred. “Hold on, baby, wait. Seriously.”

Bucky froze and looked directly into your eyes. You decided to use an even softer tone. “Just… Please let me take care of you, you’re bleeding.” You hoped your gaze was conveying your sincerity. On your way to move closer to him, you grabbed a couple tissues and folded them. A soft exhale left him when you pressed them to the cut, gently applying pressure to stop the bleeding. Neither of you spoke for a while.

Finally, he said, “Two guys brought an outside scuffle into the lobby. Nobody else was stepping in to break it up so I did.”

You lowered the tissues from his face. Due to the accelerated healing rate of his body and the size of the wound, the bleeding had already begun to subside. “And you got cut in the process?”

He nodded. “One of them had something sharp. Didn't really catch what it was,” he recounted. “And I didn’t wanna hurt them, so I couldn’t just flat-out tear them apart from each other.” His voice was low as he continued to speak. “But I was able to get 'em to stop. Some security guards showed up after the fact.”

You shook your head, briefly stepping away to dispose of the tissues. “I wonder why they were fighting in the first place.”

Bucky moved to sit on the bed, shrugging. “I don’t know, but it turns out they know each other pretty well. Apparently they’d just come back from a bar.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t get paid enough for this.”

With a small smile on your face, you went to go stand between his legs, looking down at his handsome features. The red cut stood out. "I'm glad it wasn't worse. Are you gonna need Band-Aid or something?"

He chuckled. "I'll live—check this out, though." he dug into his pants pocket and pulled out your lipstick. "Mission accomplished."

"My hero," you teased as you took it from him. There was a comfortable silence for a few beats. "What a night, huh?"

Bucky ran his hands over your hips. "I say we seal it with a good soak and only remember the good parts."

A laugh bubbled up out of you. "Deal," you agreed, starting to undo the buttons of his shirt.

-

Thanks for reading! Masterlist

#bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky fluff #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan #winter soldier #tfaws bucky #fatws bucky #marvel #marvel fic #tfaws fic

[katyasrussianaccent]

you're so golden (corpse x reader)

Summary: You're a faceless youtuber that sings cover songs. What happens when a certain faceless streamer slides into your DMs after you cover one of his songs?

Author's Note: Don't hate me! This was gonna be a cute chapter but then I decided against that. Credit to @moontwinkles for the spilling scene idea. Let me know what you think!

Masterlist

The sound of your alarm wakes you from your slumber with a suddenness. Bleary-eyed, you roll over to turn it off, letting out a small sigh as your body and brain start to awaken. You’re going to meet Corpse. You’re going to meet Corpse. It bares repeating in your mind; the prospect still not quite registering.

You haven’t had the greatest sleep, your mind racing most of the night; skittish little thoughts that had you tapping your toes on the mattress in agitation as you struggled to turn them off. Sunlight streams through the cracks in your blinds, a warm glow painted in stripes on your wall. It was going to be a good day, tiredness be damned.

You get up, stretching your arms out as wide as possible and relishing in the relief as your muscles unclench themselves. There’s a little spring in your step as you walk to the bathroom, to wash your face and brush your teeth. You aren’t nervous as you pick out your favourite outfit, instead you feel excited. It’s funny how little scraps of fabric and thread can impact your mood so much, but you smile at your reflection, the feeling of confidence is nice, albeit rare.

The rumbling in your stomach signals that you need to eat something before you leave. Nothing too fancy, just some toast and a glass of juice. You can feel the nerves start to grow a little, the food sits heavy on your tongue, forcing you to swallow it. You grab your phone, scrolling as you chew. You go onto Corpse’s twitter, smiling at the picture he’s posted.

Out of curiosity, you go onto his likes. You always find his likes interesting; the random things he’s added gives you more of an insight to his thoughts and feelings. You chew the inside of your cheek as you scroll down past girls with perfect skin and bodies; your previous confidence now feels a little misplaced.

Deciding against letting it ruin your mood, you close the tab and go to grab your bag before locking your door and heading to your car. You text Rae to let her know you’re leaving and she replies almost immediately to wish you luck. Sitting in front of the steering wheel, you exhale as you start the engine and begin to drive. This was really happening. When Corpse had asked to meet, you were shocked. While you had discussed it, you had been under the assumption it would be a while before it happened. You just hope you don’t make an idiot of yourself; a tendency you had when you were nervous.

While you love the city, there’s something about driving on the open road. No noise, just the sound of tires on concrete. The scenery remains the same; nothing but trees and the occasional house far in the horizon. You’re meeting him in Santa Barbara; a place you’ve been to once in your life, so it might as well be brand new. It’s halfway between both of you, and while it’s still a few hours drive, you’ve got good music and some sunshine to keep you happy.

The drive flies in and before you know it, you’ve arrived. You’re meeting at a cafe that sells bubble tea; it was Corpse’s recommendation. It’s a charming little place, with white table and chairs on a cobbled patio area. The building itself is white brick, plant pots decorate the window sills and there’s a small crowd of people waiting in line. You turn off the engine, and grab the perfume out your bag, the smell of peaches invading your nostrils. With one last look at yourself, you exit your car and make your way to the cafe.

You’re not sure how you’ll find him, being faceless and all. A quick scan of the people around you, your eyes zero in on a figure dressed all in black, leaning against a wall that’s slightly in the shade. There’s butterflies in your stomach as you look at him from afar, your feet apparently unable to move on their own accord. He stands out amongst the brightly coloured outfits of everyone else, and you can see the sun glint against the chains on his jeans.

“Hi,” you greet, your hand going up to half-wave at him. He’s handsome; pale skin and cheekbones that disappear under the fabric of his mask. A mop of black curls are atop his head, falling out in different directions, and he brushes one off his forehead as he looks at you.

“Hey,” he replies and you smile a little. There’s a thick fog of awkwardness between you as you both take each other in, though trying not to look so obvious about it. You feel under scrutiny as his eyes move over you, and you meet his gaze before you both look down at the ground, a faint blush on your cheeks.

“How was the drive?,” you ask at the same time he does, causing you both to laugh. “Oh. Uh yeah it was good, thanks, how was yours?”

“Yeah it was good,” he replies, his eyes still on the ground.

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

You scream internally as your eyes dart around, looking for something, anything to break this awkwardness. It shouldn’t be like this, you have such great chemistry on the phone and online, but there’s nothing right now. Is it you? There’s a niggling in your brain that says he was fine until now; until he saw you.

“We could go, uh, into the cafe? Get some food?” he suggests, breaking you from your self deprecating thoughts. You nod and you follow him to the door. He opens it and you dodge out the way as it narrowly escapes hitting you in the face. Corpse mutters an apology as he walks in, his eyes glued to the ground.

You order together; you get yourself a boba tea and a burger and Corpse does the same. He pays without saying anything to you, and while the day’s isn’t going quite as you pictured, the gesture makes your cheeks warm. You desperately hope it gets better. Maybe you’ve misread the situation and the chemistry you felt you had was just friendship on his part. Friends flirt all the time, and it doesn’t have to mean anything.

Your food arrives and you sit in relative silence as you eat. The times you do speak is stilted, full of one word answers and obvious observations. You go to reach for your boba as Corpse goes to grab salt, and the movement of his hand plus the crampedness of the table pushes your own hand back towards you, knocking the cup all over your neck and chest. Corpse shoots up in a speed that shouldn’t be human, his hand full of napkins as he comes towards you. The liquid is cold against your skin, and you look down to see your outfit now ruined, the fabric sticking to you in wet patches.

“I’m such a fucking idiot, I’m so sorry,” Corpse says, his tone panicky as he dabs at your neck. He continues to dab, his hands pressing at the neckline of your top and if this was another time, you’d feel all fluttery at his hands on your skin. But it’s not, you’re uncomfortable and the day has sucked so far and all you want to do is go home. He discards the napkin onto the table and grabs another, his fingers warm against your collarbone as he presses the tissue. He doesn’t realise that he’s travelling downwards to your chest before he presses once, twice, before retracting his hand back like he’s been burned, the napkin falling to the floor. “Uh fuck, sorry, I didn’t realise I - “

“It’s fine,” you reassure him. “I’ve always wanted apple scented boobs, guess I can check that off my bucket list.” It’s a failed joke but humour is a defence mechanism for you, even if it’s not very funny. Corpse widens his eyes a little, his gaze fixed on the napkin that’s on the floor.

He hands you some more napkins and you clean up a little more. Your skin feels sticky, and you smell of artificial apple; but the apple isn’t sweet, it’s bitter and slightly unpleasant.

“Uh, I should probably go home and get a shower, I feel like I fell into a vat of sugar,” you say, standing up and grabbing your bag.

“Oh, yeah, I’m so fucking sorry, I’m so clumsy,” Corpse replies. You can tell he feels awful, and while you sympathise, he’s not the one that’s just had almost a full cup of boba spilled on him.

You shake your head, “It’s fine, really. I just feel really gross. Don’t worry about it.” You smile in what you hope comes across as reassurance.

“Let me walk you back to your car,” he says. You nod and walk out together in silence; something you had gotten used to throughout the day.

“Have a safe drive back,” you say as you get to your car.

“I will. Let me know when you get home?” he asks, and you nod.

“Shall do. Goodbye Corpse,” you say, opening the door and waving at him through the window. He waves back and you watch him through the rearview mirror as he disappears out of sight. You feel like an idiot for believing this was going to be good, like you ever had a chance with him. You’d been saying it since the start; that it wouldn’t work, you had nothing in common, nothing to talk about. And you were right. Sometimes you hated being right.

You turn the engine on and sit there for a second, your head pressing against the steering wheel. What a waste of time this was. Grabbing your phone, you tweet quickly.

“Oh well, let’s go wallow in self pity,” you whisper before driving off.

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#my fic #corpse husband #corpse #corpse x reader #corpse husband fanfic #corpse husband x female reader #corpse husband x yn #corpse husband imagine #corpse x yn #corpse x you #corpse fic #corpse smau #corpse imagines #corpse x y/n #corpse husband fic

[ohnococo]

All For You | Reiner Braun x Reader

Summary: You and Reiner have sex for the first time.

Notes: Post time-jump, though there’s not even the tiniest bit of plot in this porn. Pls be gentle, it’s my first time writing in this fandom and I just want to take care of Reiner (don’t we all tho?)

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Post time skip, PWP, Vaginal Sex, Creampie

NSFW/18+ ONLY Under the cut!

You feel it as you ease down onto Reiner, his every muscle is tensed beneath you. Each slow inch deeper and deeper into your warmth has him shuddering and expelling jagged breaths as though they were being forced from him. You can see from the way his eyes try desperately to focus on you and how he clenches and unclenches the sheets with your every move, that everything in his body is telling him to thrust. To grab you by your hips and pull you down onto him, fast and hard, fast enough to break you, fast enough to break him, and with enough intensity to have you both fused together by your jagged ends. He resists, brain always conquering heart, and lets you sink down slower and slower still. When you finally settle down against his hips, clenching around the expanse too wide for your walls to do much more than grip at weakly, he lets out a drawn out groan, a sound not unlike a final breath. As you begin rocking on his cock, adjusting, squirming, Reiner smooths his hands across the cool sheets as if searching - but forcing himself to only feel around blindly in the same small circle.

“You can touch me, Reiner.”

He blinks away the haze clouding his vision, trying his hardest to focus on your sweet face as he considers his options and looks almost worried for a moment.

You know exactly where his mind is at and meet him halfway. “You can’t hurt me, I promise.”

Tentative hands slide from the sheets to meet your knees and you take the final step of pulling them up to your hips where he squeezes lightly. His grip tightens reflexively when you slide up his length slowly, as high as your range of motion - limited by the size of the man you were sitting atop - will allow. Once you sink back down onto him he lets out another low groan, as if your weight were instead on his chest, pushing the air from him. You establish a rhythm, and despite the large hands gripping you there is no attempt to change it, so you continue to move faster and harder down onto him. Each time you pick up your pace his hands have to readjust from trembling against your skin, as if he might have to force them back to his sides, to gripping you tightly as if you might float away and deny him your warm embrace.

You relish in the small noises bubbling up from his swollen lips, music to your ears as you commit the dark blush across his cheeks to your memory. He sounds almost as if it’s a shock to his system every time he’s buried fully inside of you, filling you to the brim, his breaths becoming quieter and quieter. Eventually all you can hear over the lewd sounds of engulfing his cock with your wetness is the small choked groans stuck in his throat as he stares in awe at where the two of you meet.

“Breathe, baby, you’ve gotta breathe.”

It’s as if he’d needed permission all along, the way he begins taking deep breaths, chest shaking, stomach twitching, and then releases all of his pent up energy in a long broken whine. With his laboured breaths and glassy eyes, it occurs to you that you’d love nothing more than to make him try and speak for you through all of this.

“How does it feel, Reiner? Is it good?”

He pulls a trembling lip between his teeth, eyes darting up to meet yours, traveling up and down your jiggling body, then rolling into the back of his head as you clench around him with each drag up his throbbing length. He nods, though the movement is so small it’s barely perceptible.

“You’ve got to speak for me baby, let me know if i’m making it good enough for you.”

He shuts his eyes tightly and you allow it, knowing you may never get a coherent sentence out of him if you were to force him to watch you taking him. “It’s… of course it is… s’good. So good.” He ends his babbling with a deep a breathy sigh of your name and the way it makes you shiver on top of him, pussy fluttering as heat pools all the faster in your core, has him whispering your name again and again in search of that same reaction, until it’s too much for him to say even that.

You know you’re pushing yourself too far with a cock as big as Reiners, but you can’t help going faster, bringing yourself down onto him harder, anything to keep hearing the noises he’s making. Anything to make him open wide beneath you like you’d never seen before. You lean forward, bracing yourself on his broad chest, crouching so your weight is on your feet instead of your knees to give yourself that little bit more room to slide up until only the thick head of his cock is anchored inside of you only to slam back down hard and fast. You’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a tinge of selfishness in the movement, loving the drag of his silky cock against the sweet spot inside of you, but nothing was more important to you in this moment than the sounds being ripped from Reiner. Deep moans punctuated by helpless whines as he emptied his lungs, followed by gasps of air inward bordering on little hiccups as he desperately tries to wrap his head around just how good you could make him feel.

You want to both be trapped in this moment forever, a blissful in between where nothing matters to one but what the other can give, but you know if you don’t keep control you’ll be giving out and spent long before he is.

“I need you, Reiner.”

The words have his eyes snapping open, and he tries his very best to focus on you, on the urgency in your voice. You know you can only keep his mind on track for moments at a time with the way you were about to milk him dry, but you too are falling into a state of delirium at the feel of him stretching you so well even as he lies doing nothing but twitching and whining beneath you. As the coil within you tightens, threatening to break and leave your words unsaid, you rush to give him the purpose he needs, lest he lie there all night heaving and moaning without the release you intended for him from the very start.

“Need you to fill me. Need you to cum for me.”

The haze clouding his eyes clears for only a moment as he very suddenly looks alert, almost alarmed. Alarmed that his body is acting on your command, not his, and that the orgasm coursing through him in white hot strides from his toes all the way up and into his tightening balls were for your sake, and yours alone. He groans, he whimpers, he cries, all movements that happen without his control as he fills you with all that he has to offer. In the end, it may have indeed been only for you as his heat flooding you seems to spread throughout your body as you clench and cum around him. You make as much of a mess of him as he does of you, your slick pouring down and pooling on his hips, and rock against him holding him deep as he will go as you ride out both of your orgasms. This is the bliss you’d always wanted him to have. This is only a piece of all the things he intends to give you.

#not sfw #aot fic #snk fanfic #reiner braun #reiner #reiner braun x reader #reiner braun x you #reiner x reader #reiner x you #pwp #aot pwp #aot smut #snk smut #aot fanfiction #my writing