#it is past midnight and I’m posting this now

[zzoguri]

[TEASER] finger trapped (ripped to its seams) ➵ ji changmin

ji changmin x reader

with an unexpected reunion, you and changmin relive the memories of cheongju—and confront what could’ve been between you two.

inspired by ➵ "seasons" by wave to earth, the last five years

general genre/warnings ➵ friends to almost lovers, angst, fluff, the last five years story-telling method aka present will be told going backwards while past will be told moving forward (i hope that makes sense), missed chances, unexpected reunion, keeping secrets & lying, hurt/comfort, jealousy remains but love triumphs, tiger parents, journalist reader (u kno i had to do it), reader is a nerd and changmin is a student-athlete, kms jokes from jongseob (all /lh), finger traps aren’t efficient after all

word count ➵ est. 10-15k

playlist ➵ end of beginning by djo // high school in jakarta by niki // i know it won't work by gracie abrams // no big deal (i love you) by dodie // keeping tabs by niki // no one knows by stephen sanchez & laufey // so what now by renee rapp // i wish i hated you by ariana grande // the 1 by taylor swift // seasons by wave to earth

a/n ➵ shhhhhhh.... i know that i'm still writing this but a lil motivation and accountability goes a long way SOOO !!! this is just a lil teaser for the upcoming jichang fic for the deoboyznet event <33 thank you again to my lovely @hcuyk for beta reading !!! (i've only written 1/4 please understand.) but i'm dedicating this to my lovely @sungbeam whose love for changmin is one i'll forever feel even to my ribs and @wavesmp3 who forever remains an inspiration in the way i write </3 plus, i've posted these snippets anyway so :P if ure interested in this fic, feel free to ask to be part of the taglist for this! and dont forget to always leave feedback <3

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlists

it’s a late night on a tuesday, about to be a midnight wednesday, and you’re in a convenience store as you scout for your dinner. all hauled up in the newsroom, the idea of ordering food during a time where restaurants would still be open slipped your mind. now, you’re left to scan through the same options you’ve eaten for the past years since you started living in seoul.

the convenience clerks are familiar with you, both kim jongseob and kim jiwoo. with your constant late-night meals at the store, you’d talk to whichever one had a shift. jongseob is saving up to upgrade his setup at home to record more music. with all the stories he shares about his time in underground rap battles along with the short verses he’s performed for you, you’re positive that he’ll get signed to a label soon. as for jiwoo, this is one of the many jobs she has in order to save enough money for fashion school. you’ve seen her sketches and outfits she’s put together and you’re hoping that she’ll get accepted.

a sigh leaves you. you didn’t have a problem with eating the food here but you were craving for something new in your life in seoul. the perpetual cycle of eating takeout food and unconsciously skipping meals for work needed to be disrupted just for a moment. but you weren’t seeking michelin-star food—all you wanted was home cooked, something from home.

the spice of tteokbokki, the burn of freshly fried hotteok, and the sweetness of homemade peach iced tea—mr. kim’s convenience store had it all.

your tastebuds long for cheongju.

“planning to beat your record of spending 23 minutes on deciding what to get?”

you roll your eyes before looking to your right, seeing jongseob stocking up the drinks in the fridge. “i hate you.”

“what? i’m just saying, you’re taking a lot longer to decide today.” he chuckles before placing the last bottle of sweetened probiotic milk in the fridge. “none of the options look good to you?”

“sort of,” you hum before you scan through the aisle of packaged meals. “i think i’m craving for something different.”

“i get it. the food here can get boring, which is why i’m planning to order pizza if you want to split the costs.”

your eyebrows shoot up at jongseob’s suggestion. “really? you’d share pizza with me?”

“yeah, as long as you pay for your share.” he shoots you a smile before grabbing on a trolley carrying empty boxes. “unless… you want to pay for the whole thing.”

you bite back a smile as you shake your head. you should’ve known the guy would ask you to buy him food, but you knew that he needed the money and you at least had a stable income to keep you comfortable. “fine,” jongseob’s smile grows as you fish out your wallet from your pocket and pull out a couple of bills. “just order enough for us two.” 

“of course,” he says as soon as you hand him some money. “i’ll make sure to order the most expensive thing on the menu.”

you scoff at his joke. “just make sure to treat me to something.”

the bell by the door chimes. “sorry, can’t hear you over that! need to attend to a customer!” jongseob quickly runs away from you while dragging the trolley. that little shit just knew how to press your buttons, but you love the kid, anyway.

still, you stand in the middle of the mart and your heart longs for home.

then, you shut your eyes, and you’re transported back in front of the familiar aisle filled with bags of potato chips and sweet corn. the noisy fan along with the soft sounds of mr. kim’s korean drama fills your ears. a mix of yellow and orange hues paint every corner of the mart, including you—and you’re not alone.

your best friend stands on your right, wearing the unbuttoned school uniform polo over a tank top along with jogging pants. he’s lost in thought as he scans through the options of snacks you two can have for today’s afternoon. he starts to giggle to himself, probably from a silly thought he’ll share with you in the next second or a memory involving you, and the dips in his cheeks appear—your heart thumps in your ears.

and just like how quickly you were transported back to cheongju, your surroundings transformed into the cool-lit convenience store found in seoul. all you have left is the image of him bathed in the sunlight.

but he fades away like the ink on old receipts, never gone, because the glowing image of him warps into a different version who stands next to you in the cold mart. he’s grown a few inches taller and his hair doesn’t get in the way of his line of sight. while he wears a green sweater, you notice that he’s gained some muscles. his eyes scan through the aisle behind you filled with different brands of instant ramen.

but he bites the inside of his cheek, and his dimples appear.

it’s a tornado that brews within you, enough to uproot trees and displace buildings, all because of an unexpected reunion with changmin. why did the universe decide to bring two ex-best friends on a random tuesday night? what brings him to the convenience store at the same time you’re there? and why did it have to happen a day before the interview?

you weren’t going to commit the same mistake; keep your eyes off of him and make your way out of the store. it didn’t matter if you had an empty, growling stomach, or gave free money to jongseob. you need to leave without the distant, familiar face noticing.

your feet act fast, and you're almost certain that might’ve caught his attention, but it didn’t matter as you see jongseob standing behind the cashier with his phone out. “i just ordered the pizza. it should arrive in about… 20 to 30 minutes.”

“yeah, about that…”

“don’t tell me you’re taking your money back.”

at the sight of jongseob’s pout, you roll your eyes. “no, keep it. i just—i need to go.”

“what? why?”

you peek behind you. it seems like he didn’t recognize you, after all. “i’ve got… work!”

“but don’t you only have your interview with the bo—”

“hey!” your fingers snap at him. “you cannot—i mean, you just… just take the goddamn money.”

“but we’re supposed to share the pizza. you haven’t eaten.”

an exasperated sigh leaves you. “jongseob, just treat me next time. i can eat at home.”

and you’re ready to leave the convenience store, bid farewell to jongseob and a delicious pizza made for two, and never greet or say goodbye to the living fragment of what you last know of cheongju—

“y/n?”

and the plan failed.

when you meet his gaze, you’re able to take in the different version of him. he’s grown so much—it’s such a pain that you weren’t there to witness it. his eyes are a pool of emotions; you can’t identify them.

all it takes is one breath from you. “changmin.”

a beat passes.

“i’m just gonna… go through the storage,” jongseob points his thumb at the back of the mart, “and maybe kill myself afterwards. i don’t know.” before you can protest, he’s already gone. (and he still has your money. that fucker.)

taglist ➵@winterchimez @miusgirl @jenoscafe @sweet-unicorn-world @mosviqu @vernyangel @stealanity @deobi0412 @blue-rainydays @maessseongs

#the boyz x reader #ji changmin x reader #ji changmin angst #ji changmin fluff #the boyz imagines #ji changmin imagines #the boyz scenarios #ji changmin scenarios

[prince-kallisto]

Silver’s Fairy Godfather 🐦‍⬛

I’d like to imagine Silver and Crowley having an Aurora and Maleficent-Diaval dynamic- one that is complicated yet full of care simultaneously 🌸💖

This was all inspired by Silver’s Alchemy Special Lesson line where he says “I feel better when the Headmage is here” 😭😭😭😭 that’s all it took BAHXJSJ!!! But why? Why does Silver feel better when the Headmage is there, when everyone else feel tense, anxious, annoyed, or even scared? 👀 This was a question I sought to answer for myself- as in what if Crowley was his “fairy godfather,” like the way Maleficent was to Aurora in the live action film.

I feel like some stuff is up to interpretation- as this is from (mostly) Silver’s POV. But I hope the general concept of this wasn’t too confusing to follow (*ﾟ▽ﾟ*) I wanted to try having the story follow Silver’s POV, age, and thoughts through the style of drawings- except for certain pages that’s meant to be drawn from Crowley’s POV (о´∀`о) I hope it wasn’t too disorienting!

There were many, many others scenes of them I wanted to draw but couldn’t fit -v- so I suppose I have inspiration for mini comics/sketches in the future to elaborate further on them! Thank you for reading 🌸💖🐦‍⬛

#I’m going right to sleep now NEJXJD it’s past midnight and I’m tired🤣 #in fact it’s past 3 in the morning and I’m exhausted LOL #I spent too much time working on this 🤣 #long post #twisted wonderland #twst #dire crowley #twst dire crowley #twst silver #twst fanart #twst comic #my art #kallistopost

[crybaby-bkg]

cw: this got long sorry 😔 but creepy/perv bakugou, recording, film major bkg x art major reader, masturbation, coercion, dubcon before it just becomes con, voyeurism/exhibitionism

as an art major, you typically did some works for a few students on campus; for their plays, as background pieces while they danced, a cover for their released songs. it wasn’t out of the ordinary for people to ask you to create something for them, and you enjoyed it more often than not. but, you weren’t usually the art itself.

Bakugou is a friend’s friend that you’ve seen a few times, ran into at the library or at coffee shops. he’s a film major, and always looks so unhappy about the whole thing, as if he didn’t choose it himself. you joke to Mina that you think he’ll graduate and become one of those directors that hate everything and yell at the actors constantly and later on get sued for being a dickhead. you never say it to him though—you’ve never spoken more than a couple words to the man.

it’s why it shocks you when he approaches you one day. it’s after one of your painting classes, and he stands outside the door with a frown and his hands shoved in his pockets, his eyebrows scrunched as if pissed at the mere sight of you. he asks you, in that low and gruff tone of his, if you could star in his final project for the semester. says it’s supposed to be a film made with this criteria and that, but, you’ve kind of checked out on the conversation after the first sentence.

“You mean, you want me to create something and that be the star of your film?” you ask him, feeling so intimidated at his stature. he always seems to loom, his hair shadowing the lights above, creates a cast over a portion of his face, makes his eyes look…unsettling. like they’re looking straight through your flesh, can find the marrow in your bones. he scoffs like you’ve offended him, rolling his eyes into his skull, mouth pulled tight.

“No.” his voice is firm, gaze concentrated only on you, like the halls are empty and you’re the focus of his lens. “I want you to star in it.”

his words confuse you—you’ve never presented yourself as an actor before, never alluded to wanting to be in the spotlight if not for what you create with your hands. but he shuffles on his feet, looks desperate even. there’s some hemming and hawing for a minute or so—why not choose Mina?—she’s busy—why choose me?—‘cause you’d be perfect for my short film—what’s it about?—you’ll find out once you get the script.

and even after you hesitantly agree and get the script—you still don’t understand what you’re doing. why you’re here, why you’re the only person, why it has to be a solo film, why there’s damn near zero lines in the entirety of the have-to-be forty five minute film.

the scenes are all so long, and maybe it’s because movies aren’t your forte or chosen major, but you just don’t get it. one scene; you’re staring at yourself in the mirror while Bakugou holds a small, black camera over your shoulder. he’s eerily quiet behind you, whispers out a faint fuckin’ go when you have to wash your face in the sink, makes you do it over because your movements are too jerky and unnatural.

the rest of the scenes go that way; you doing regular at home activities, being put under a lens, quietly barked at to do this and move that way and fix your hair and remember to frown.

“Isn’t there another way to film this?” you ask him on the fifth day of shooting in his spacious loft. there’s a bubble bath scene coming up, one you dont understand the importance of, but Bakugou tells you it’s the most necessary part of the entire thing.

“No,” he grunts out, looking at you from under his lashes as he sits on the lid of the toilet. “But I’ll make it soapy, so the camera won’t see much.” the camera? much? you weren’t worried so much about what the camera captured as you were the man behind it. he looks at you with such intensity, you feel naked already despite the robe you wear that’s suspiciously already your size.

he leaves the bathroom when you sink in the hot water, returns before you can say it’s okay, hears the water splashing and thinks that’s good enough. he kneels on the floor beside you, camera pointed directly in your face, makes your chest hot and your skin feel prickly. the scene passes on regularly enough; you run the water over your arms, tilt your head back as you sigh, whisper the few lines scripted, lean back and close your eyes, sigh again. it’s almost relaxing, makes you forget about the friend of a friend recording you naked right now. almost.

“Touch yourself.” Bakugou suddenly demands, hushed and quiet behind the camera. your eyes immediately shoot open, looking to him in question, how he’s eerily still in his spot hovering over you.

“Huh?” you ask, unsure if you heard him correctly, looking around the rounded lens in your face, trying to ignore the red blinking light. but Bakugou only frowns.

“It’s a masturbation scene. Touch yourself.” he repeats, voice louder, more demanding this time. your stomach twists at the thought of doing something so intimate in front of him. he’s a handsome guy, for sure, even made you consider asking him out after this, figured he was just serious about his work and awkward about certain things. but…something had been off about this entire thing since the start.

“But—but I don’t, I’m not,” you stutter, sitting up a little, the bubbles covering your chest starting to disperse with your movements. but Bakugou only sits a little higher on his knees, finally pulling the camera away from his face for the first time since he’s asked you to do this for him.

“You want me to fail?” he asks, booming voice eerily quiet in the silent bathroom, carmine eyes dull, shaded over with something terrible. “Then do it.” he tells you when you shake your head quickly.

you stare at him until he gets back into position again, camera back pointed at you. when he doesn’t say anything else, you swallow thickly, wondering if the art that will come out of this will be worth it. so you listen, sneak a hand under the water, start touching yourself in a way you never have in front of anyone.

is it bad to say that it’s exhilarating? being watched and recorded by someone who breathes so heavily every time your voice hiccups? being directed to touch your chest next when the suds start to disappear and your nipples start to peek through? is it bad that you want him to send you this portion of his film, only, just so you can watch yourself again and again? make a portrait of yourself with your fingers on your nipples and your knees raising from the water and your head thrown back from the intensity in oil pastels?

“That’s a wrap.” Bakugou announces when you finish, head spinning and still panting. you look over to him, how he closes the camera, the obvious bulge in his pants. “I’ll get you a towel.”

you wonder when’s the next time he’ll need you. or better yet—maybe he could be the star in your final drawing project? you had finished it already but, what was the harm in starting over with him as your muse? as naked as you are? camera not blocking his face so you can paint the similarities of his blushing cheeks and eyes when you direct him to look at you? to touch his chest? to play with himself just like that?

#this got. so long. sowwy #but I thought about this ummmm Sunday night #but I was DRAINED from writing 7k words of scorned past midnight and then having to edit it skdjfkf #so I was like. okay. put this idea in the drafts. NOW ms dory memory #anddddd I love this so very much #would’ve loved to turn this into a full fic #but it’s so exhausting trying to write long fics recently bc of this multichap #I’m just not used to it and I can’t do two things at the same time #and I already have like 9 fics on my list to write!!!! lol #but there is something so alluring about film major bkg 2 me #I think hes awkward and comes off as mean but he really is just that serious about his work #but he’s #also a creep for you LOL #definitely think he agrees to become ur muse for art as like a trade off #and you get that boy into SO many humiliating positions 😵‍💫 #I need. to lie down. anyway. #I wrote this at 1am and was scared to post it then cause I didn’t think anyone would see it #so here it is in the morning :) #bakugou treats! 🍬 #—new treat in the streets! 🍫

[ailani-reillata]

Today marks Ailani Réillata’s second creation anniversary—also known as her Ailaniversary. As of today, I’ve been sharing Ailani with all of you for two whole years. 

This creative milestone feels completely surreal. I never believed that anyone would listen to my stories for two minutes, much less two years.

Back when I started posting about Ailani in January of 2022, I was in such a weird place mentally and emotionally. I was feeling pretty lost and lonely, and I had nowhere to channel these feelings, and I had nowhere to express myself. Though I still struggle with these feelings often, I cannot overstate how much this creative project and your support of it has lessened these feelings and given me support and encouragement to lean on.

With everyone’s interest, support, asks, comments, likes, kudos, kindness, and love, I found the strength to channel my emotions and complexity into a story that I needed to tell and one I needed to hear. I felt brave enough to start this massive project because of the support and enthusiasm I was shown. I’ve never felt worthy of hobbies or creativity or anything, so to see my pursuits be supported so wholly just changed my world. I’ve never had anyone care about my stories before, you all became the firsts.

So I started posting about Ailani, a character who’s existed in my head for years but never had the opportunity to become a fully-fledged story. I turned this concept into a massive project that helped me explore my emotions and identity and grow as a creative and as a person. By expressing myself, my identity, my culture, my history, my heritage and my feelings through this metaphorical lens, I had something to turn to when things got hard. I was able to have a creative project that comforted me and represented me.

And through it all, I also received support and encouragement about my creativity from all of you. This project really uplifts me when I’m down, and all of you help with that, too.

I cannot express how meaningful this creative journey has been for me. I’m so thankful for everyone’s patience and support, it’s really allowed me to explore and enjoy this journey, and I’m so grateful for all of you. You’ve all comforted me in dark moments, and I’m so honored to be here with you, sharing stories and creativity and kindness. Thank you for listening to me, I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that.

Thank you for giving me two wonderful years, and despite the hardships and the struggles, for one of the first times in my life, I genuinely can’t wait to see what the next year brings. Even when it hurts and even when it’s hard. Thank you for letting me express myself, and thank you for letting me have fun.

Aloha,

Ivy 

#Ailaniversary #dear reader #ailani réillata #It’s way past midnight for me #But I think I’m gonna sleep in tomorrow and just sleep off some of the ache I’m feeling #So I wanted to post this now #Because even if I’m feeling bad right now #And even if I’m unsure about the value of my stories and my ideas #This anniversary reminds me that the feeling will pass #And the love will remain #And it’ll be okay again #Creativity has saved me so many times #Thank you for supporting that #Thank you so much #It’s so late so I know most of you aren’t up but still #I’m so thankful

[diane-guerreros]

“Intersectional mujerista” means, to me, that I'm here to learn, to grow, to partner with folks who want to do good—whatever that is. Everybody makes mistakes, and I'm going to, maybe unintentionally, continue making mistakes. But, in the meantime, I'm going to try my hardest to do the right thing. Sometimes there are things along the way that you find out, and they make you go, “Oh, shoot—I messed up.” It's hard to do everything right. But I think that if the intention is there—if you're doing everything that you're doing out of love for you, others, and the community—that's the most important thing.

HAPPY 36TH BIRTHDAY, DIANE GUERRERO 🤍

#diane guerrero #dianeguerreroedit #dccastedit #wocedit #femaledaily #flawlessbeautyqueens #thequeensofbeauty #userladiesblr #dailywomen #chewieblog #userbbelcher #dailywoc #latinesource #usergif #** #*diane #all animations except the book one are mine (the book is from lordicon library) #i’ve been working on this for a month 😭 #it’s past midnight here so i’m posting this now

[karebear923]

THE AMOUNT OF HAPPINESS THAT CHERRY MAGIC HAS BROUGHT ME TONIGHT!!!

THAT WAS BEAUTIFUL AND FUNNY AND ROMANTIC AND JUST SHEER JOY JUST PURE UTTER LOVE NO ONE IS DOING IT LIKE THEM RIGHT NOW YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH THIS STORY MEANS TO ME LIKE I’M CRYING SO HARD I HAVE INDIGESTION NOW LIKE EFF IT I’M PREORDERING ONE OF THOSE CHERRY KEYCHAINS RIGHT NOW I KNOW I GOTTA WAKE UP IN A FEW HOURS AND I’LL BE TIRED AS HELL TOMORROW (REALLY LATER TODAY) BUT I DON’T CARE BECAUSE I’M SO HAPPY FOR AND BECAUSE OF THESE CHARACTERS AND LOVE IS BEAUTIFUL AND LIFE IS REALLY MEANT FOR LOVING PEOPLE INCLUDING YOURSELF IN ALL THE WAYS THAT LOVE CAN EXIST AND I’M JUST CRYING IN THIS CLUB RIGHT NOW

#I mean maybe it’s because I’m PMSing and a bitch gets EMOTIONAL around this time #and it’s dark and quiet and past midnight and that’s the perfect recipe to really get immersed in something #but I freaking love this story so much #it means so much to me #everyone is doing so well with this show and they’re all giving it their 100% effort #I just really hope I don’t get burned in the end again #please god no not again I can’t take it #let me bask in this happiness right now instead #whatever I’ll be embarrassed about this in the morning lol #cherry magic 30 #cherry magic th #Cherry Magic #my post

[andi-is-bored]

i’m a generally happy person, so why is it that the only music i listen to now is a sub-genre i like to called “Conan Gray breaking my fragile heart for an hour straight”

#for those of you who saw my last post #i am not dying #yet #it’s just my sinuses tbh #but it’s a bitch #anyways #the whole trip to where i am now was spent listening to conan gray entire discography #and i’m not sure yet but i think winner has just come out since it’s past midnight #so i’m gonna go see if i’m right #conan gray #conan gray gives me life #i’m tired

[exhaustedbadger]

Rant post.

People setting off illegal fireworks pisses me off. They’re the worst and just causes anxiety for animals and people. It’s 2023 and I swear I hear them more often than compared to 2019-2021. They sound like gunshots ESPECIALLY if shot after 1-2 AM. Fireworks are a dumb way of entertainment. How they get their hands on illegal fireworks I don’t know.

At this point, I’ve accepted that fireworks are going to set off the most in July than the rest of the year.

#fireworks #illegal fireworks #fireworks are not fun #fuck you to whoever set off fireworks at past midnight we’re trying to sleep and mind our own business #my dog is shaking and panting so much right now despite him wearing a thundershirt #they can also set fires to dry grass and old buildings #I know the people who set off fireworks won’t read this post but I’m making it regardless #go drink or something instead of setting fireworks off #you’re wasting your money if you’re buying them especially in the current state of the US economy #people can have some decency and at least set them off around the days of July 4th but nooo they decide to do it on random nights #it’s fine if fireworks are shot on CNY or July 4 tho

[spookykestrel]

Me a year ago: yeah I try not to drink caffeine everyday I don’t want to develop a tolerance to it and it never really helps me wake up anyway

Me now: yeah I’m on my third caffeinated beverage of the day yeah no caffeine doesn’t really work for me I’m just trying anything at this point

#I’m always tired #it’s my fault for staying up past midnight and waking up for work at 8 #and working a draining (socially/emotionally) job and a draining (physically) job #but I love to drink caffeine now #kestrel calls #chitter chatter #text post

[dreamsclock]

I’m so so excited for deerhunted :D

THANK YOU SO AM I !!!! i’m going all OUT with this one i’m even making a cool design for it and everything I AM SO HYPED…

#ch1 is up now on my ao3 BUT i’m scheduling the post announcing it to come out at 1 min past midnight here ^_^ #so it’s technically on time for hybrid c!dream day

[humandisastersquad]

Forgot to refill my sleep meds before xmas so have been sleeping terribly lately but bringing back memories of staying up past like 2am nearly every night of the 2012-13 summer hols reading merlin fic to fill the gaping hole that fuckign finale left in me

#absolutely terrible year for me to get my first laptop #rip in fuckign pieces me sleep schedule #literally would never stay up even past midnight before I got it #maybe occasionally if I was engrossed in a rly good book #but nowhere near the level of constant sleep deprivation I put myself through that summer #I swear I’d always find like a 100k fic at like 10pm and be like ‘well this is my life now’ until we’ll into the early hours of the morning #it was so fuckign bad for my health hfjkd #I’m surprised I didn’t end up wrecking my eyesight bc of it #anyway time is a flat circle and I am reading merlin fic in the year of someone else’s lord 2022 #holy personal post batman

[melodiousramblings]

Heat and Heartbreak

(I’ve dearly missed writing, and I just watched Elation again for like the 15th time or something, so have a little drabble, set at the end of the episode.)

“Why don’t you come inside Marinette? Alya’s been so worried about you.”

Marinette gently nudged her cheek against Tikki’s head, seeking the little Kwami’s comfort, any comfort she can find.

The tears hadn’t spilled yet, but they threatened to with growing intensity. “I’ll be down in a minute. I just need some more fresh air.” It wasn’t a lie; her eyes stung and the crackling fractures in her heart were leaving a burning ache in their wake. To be honest, she would need more than just a minute, but Alya would have questions and she couldn’t leave her best friend waiting for long.

“Okay,” Tikki responded with a gentle pat to Marinette’s cheek before flying off, back into her holder’s bedroom.

[[MORE]]

With no one else to watch her, Marinette let the tears spill, trails of wet fire down her cheeks. Surely they glistened in the moonlight, a moonlight so stunning it mocked her with its beauty. She could still feel the rush of excitement, standing miles and miles up in a sky dotted with stars, with Chat Noir, as they searched together for André the ice cream man. She could still feel the protective warmth of her kitty’s arm around her.

Another tear, another fracture in her chest. How could she forget the endless and vibrant green of his eyes, the flutter of his blond hair, the night-cooled skin of his cheeks and nose as she kissed them, the softness of his lips as they kissed each other. Sweet memories, all of them tainted by Monarch’s cruelty. She was almost akumatized. Because of love.

No.

Because the most heartless man in all of Paris tried to use her love against her.

But she couldn’t let herself dwell on it too much. She didn’t need the heat of fury to mix with the heat of heartbreak. Sadness was more than enough for now. Besides, she was keeping Alya waiting. Maybe a snuggle with her best friend, a movie, and some popcorn could help patch a few of the cracks in her heart.

Sighing, Marinette rubbed at her face, breathing in deep to force the tears away. There would be more later, no doubt. But she was grateful for the small sink in her bedroom; a cold splash of water over her face sounded nice right about now.

With a final look at the moon above, she blew a kiss to the sky, to wherever Chat Noir might be now, her beloved partner, hopefully safe and warm in his own home.

——————————

Chat Noir couldn’t go home. Not quite yet. Not with the roaring echo of heartbreak in his ears. Marinette loved him. Had loved him? Does love him. But not Adrien. Not anymore, if there was truth to her words. Sighing, Chat Noir stopped, dropping down onto a roof somewhere on the way to his house. He turned back. He hadn’t gotten very far, still able to see Marinette’s home from a distance, still able to see Marinette herself, slumped over the railing of her balcony and curled into herself.

Sighing, he leaned on his stick and watched her. The least he could do was make sure she made it back indoors safely, right? Or was it rude to watch her when she was potentially as heartbroken as he was? Would she be crying? Was it horrible of him to sort of almost kind of want her to? Because then… then he could be sure she did indeed love him.

But… wait, no. Loving him as Chat Noir was unfair to her. He wanted her to love him as Adrien again. If he weren’t so conflicted over everything that night, his heart would be soaring over the knowledge that Marinette had been in love with him, with Adrien.

Unless she really doesn’t anymore. Love was so beyond his scope of understanding, he had no clue what to do, as Adrien at least. As Chat Noir, he had to keep his distance, no matter how lovely she’d looked that night, no matter how warm she felt in his arms, no matter how her beautiful blue eyes completely outshone the glittering moon… Not even how soft her lips had been, on his face, against his own lips.

“Marinette…” Chat sighed dreamily, remembering their first kiss, before it all went wrong, before he hurt her, before Monarch tried to-

His mind and his heart briefly elsewhere, he almost missed it as Marinette wiped at her cheeks- ah, so she had been crying- and blew a kiss to the sky before turning toward her trapdoor. Had that been meant for him?? His heart twisted.

Straightening up, Chat Noir blew a kiss in return, in her direction. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t possibly have seen it. His intent was there. “Goodnight, Marinette,” he whispered, only turning away once she fully disappeared from sight.

Time to return to a cold house, to a cold room with a cold bed, much too large for one person. If only he had the comforting warmth of another person. Well, at least Plagg would be there. His cheese-loving kwami would always be good company, especially in times of heartbreak.

Strange, how cold it suddenly felt that night.

#I hope it’s okay #I started this at midnight #and now it’s half past 2am #so I spat it out as quickly as I could #I just wanted to write something so badly #no proofreading I’m posting this as is #sorry if the read more didn’t work #miraculous ladybug #my writing #my fics

[ghoulbats]

I now realize your birthday is tomorrow and ask you to mentally edit the date I sent birthday wishes

never fear anon i have been on your side the entire time <3 <3 <3

#i realised there was only like a tiny % chance you’d see the post but i made it anyway just in case okay #it’s past midnight here now so if we pretend i didn’t see it earlier it’s now perfectly on time!! #i’m going to reply *tomorrow* tomorrow but for now - thankyouthankyouthankyou🥹💓

[southislandwren]

Okay this is gonna be a long one I hope y’all’re excited. 1) I hurt myself and broke some equipment within an hour of being at work. 2) I love my young friends but I continue to ache for my old friends, namely when I parked I thought to myself “oh E’s not here yet that’s weird” because she always parked in the same spot and obviously she’s not fucking here. 3) I hate food engineering I hate it I hate it but luckily I have my friends with me to be snarky with and commiserate with. 4) astronomy FUCKKKSSSSSS I love it I’m going to have SO much fun I am fucking excited as hell!!!!! Yessss space!!!!!!!!!! 5) learning real stuff in repro tomorrow and I’m scared 😳👉👈

#happy second day of school. I will be staying up until midnight at least #diary post #school post #oh also what do u think this means. had to exchange snaps for a group project and he went ‘oh good now I don’t need an excuse for ur snap’ #hello????? you’re fucking 18?? I’m a super senior??? I’m basically your mom kid it’s past ur bedtime go away #we are both visibly like. Alt/emo/queer/etc so I’m sure he’s just latching on. but I will curb stomp a bitch if he catches feelings #I’m already in love with someone and her name is the MILKY WAY!!!!!!!!!!!

[spikyink]

This might be a little dark but this just plopped into my brain and I’m curious to see peoples answers.

#idk what this post is #i’m bored #it’s past midnight #I’m cramping #and i need to go to sleep #gugh #but #I wanna see people’s answers #idk if this is a weird post #but we ball #yer #im gonna go to sleep now #Gn yall and ignore this if you feel like it.

[joelsgreys]

baby, i’m yours

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: You remind Joel that you’re his.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION however she does wear Joel’s t-shirt and he semi lifts her onto a counter? sorta but not really? UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (Joel is in his 50’s but reader’s specific age is not mentioned). established relationship, sort of. consumption of food (if you are allergic to peanuts, i so sorry). angst, Joel and Ellie’s strained relationship is lightly implied, Joel is insecure, it’s implied reader did some horrible things in her past, reassurance, brief smut, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, consider it a quickie idk. apologies if i missed anything.

word count: 2.6k

a/n: this short lil thing has been sitting in my drafts forever. i finished it while i was in ireland and finally had the chance to sit down and do a quick edit and when i say it was quick, i flew through it so i could hop onto my next wip so please excuse any errors! here’s a spotify link to the song if anyone’s curious, it’s an oldie but a goodie although it may not be everyone’s cup of tea.

main masterlist l fic notifs

Joel rolls over in bed, his arm outstretched and seeking the warmth of your soft, naked body.

“Mmph,” a small, sleepy groan falls from his lips as his long, thick fingers feel around on your side of the bed—of his bed. Of course, you have your very own bedroom in the house you all had been placed in when you first arrived in Jackson. Your very own bed to sleep in is just down the hallway, but lately, you’ve been waking up beside him a lot more often than not, especially now that Ellie’s a bit older and she’s gone and made herself her own space out in the garage behind the house. Being under the same roof as Joel did those two more harm than it did good, and while you missed having her around, it was for the best.

“She’ll come around, Joel,” you’d assured him. “I know she will. She just needs a bit of time is all.”

“Hope you’re right, darlin’,” he had murmured sadly in response.

Still lost somewhere in between sleep and full consciousness, Joel continues feeling around for you, but all he finds are the wrinkled sheets, cold and abandoned. Confused, his eyes finally flutter open and with a painful protest from his sore, stiff back, he sits up, blinking furiously as he looks around the darkness of his bedroom. The door’s been left cracked open ever so slightly, and as his vision adjusts now that he’s fully awake, he notices the dim glow of the hallway light that’s peeking through into the room.

He turns and glances over at the old digital alarm clock perched on his nightstand, the obnoxious, bright red numbers practically screaming at him that it’s a quarter past midnight. With a small, tired grunt, Joel switches on the lamp beside the clock and swings his legs over the side of the mattress, goosebumps erupting across his flesh the instant that his bare feet meet the cold, hardwood floor. He stands and fumbles around for his clothes, which he’d tossed carelessly somewhere over his shoulder hours earlier when he’d been lost in the heat of the moment with you. He finds his faded, navy blue sweatpants strewn across a chair next to the door and pulls them on over his naked lower body before searching for his t-shirt. When he doesn’t immediately see it, he doesn’t bother, figuring that it’s just going to come back off when he climbs back into bed with you.

Padding out of his bedroom, he makes his way down the hallway, heading towards the staircase. As he draws closer, he hears it—the soft music that’s coming from downstairs.

Baby, I'm yours

and I'll be yours until the stars fall from the sky

yours until the rivers all run dry

in other words, until I die

He’s led towards the kitchen and that’s where he finds you.

Joel wants to be annoyed. 

Fuck, he tries to be annoyed. But he can’t help the way that the corners of his mouth threaten to turn upwards when his eyes take in the sight before him.

You’re standing at the center island slowly swaying your hips from side to side along to the beat of the song that’s playing from the record player perched next to the instant coffee maker on the counter behind you. He’d nearly wrung your neck when he found out what all you had traded just to get your hands on it, but you loved that thing more than life itself it seemed, so he couldn’t stay mad for very long. You’re making yourself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich—the peanut butter you’d learned how to make yourself with the old food processor he found deep in one of the kitchen cabinets, and the strawberry preserves you had picked up from the market earlier that week. Clad in nothing but his t-shirt, you’re singing along quietly to the lyrics as you finish making your late night snack.

Baby, I’m yours

and I’ll be yours until the sun no longer shines

yours until the poets run out of rhyme

in other words, until the end of time

Joel leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his bare chest as he watches you carefully lick the remnants of peanut butter off of the knife you’re using before setting it down on the counter. You then pick up the two pieces of bread and slap them together—you’d also learned how to bake homemade bread using some old nineties cookbook you had found in the commune’s library. Your sourdough is the reason he had to go up a notch in his belt.

Sandwich in hand, you do a little spin, humming happily as you take your first bite.

Joel loudly clears his throat from the doorway.

Startled, you whirl around and freeze, your eyes wide.

“Enjoyin’ yourself there, darlin’?” He asks amusedly as he approaches you.

“Jesus Christ! You scared me, Joel!” You hiss at him. You then realize what time of night it is and a look of guilt crosses your features. “Oh shit. I’m sorry, did I wake you up? I honestly thought that I had the volume down low enough in here—”

Frowning, you turn around and reach towards the record player to turn the music off, but much to your surprise, Joel stops you. “No, s’okay. I woke up on my own,” he assures you. “I reached over for you and you were gone.” The admission slips before he can even think to stop it. He notices how taken aback you are by what he’d just said and quickly asks, “What’cha doin’ up so late, anyway?”

“I was hungry,” you tell him, sheepishly holding up your food. You always have one hell of an appetite after Joel was through fucking you senseless. You take another bite and offer it to him. “Want some?”

“Sure.”

He accepts and takes a corner of the sandwich before handing it back to you. His fingers brush against yours and his face burns at the contact.

Fucking Christ. 

You’re standing there in nothing but his fucking t-shirt after he had, yet again, made you his in his own fucking bed, and that’s what gets him?

Truth be told, the only time he holds your hand is when he’s inside of you—his fingers lace with your own as he comforts you and praises you for being such a good girl for taking his cock the way you do.

For being so, so fucking good for him.

He’s thought about taking your hand in front of others. Particularly when he notices the way some of the men in town stare at you. Joel wants to make it known that you’re already spoken for. Only, you’re not spoken for, not really. 

You’re his, but you’re not really his. It’s not that he doesn’t want to take the leap and acknowledge the two of you are far more than just patrol partners, far more than just two people who fought like fucking hell to get some smart assed teenager—and the world’s only hope for a cure—across the country.

He feels undeserving of it. Of you and your heart.

Several seasons had come and gone since you’d both arrived in Jackson with Ellie in tow, and somehow, Joel still can’t fathom what you’re doing by his side. She’s out of the house now and there’s nothing tying you to him, so why are you still here?

He’s so much older. Closer and closer to being on his way out, while you still had your entire life left ahead of you. He’s worn down, hardened from the post outbreak world. And you, you hadn’t lost any of your softness, your sweetness. Not even after the things you’d been forced to do to survive because of him.

You could meet someone younger, someone closer to your own age. You could marry, even start a family. You could be with someone who could give you a good life, the life you deserve.

The life that he’s too fucking broken to give you.

“Joel?” Your voice breaks into his thoughts. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. M’fine.” He gestures to the record player with a nod of his head. “Y’know, this song’s older than me. By a few years. Came out in the early sixties.”

Joel half expects you to make some wisecrack joke and tease him over his age like you have done in the past—especially when the kid would get you going. Instead, he watches you set what’s left of your sandwich down and brush the crumbs from your hands before holding one of them out to him.

Confused, he stares at it for a moment before his dark eyes meet yours. “What are you doin’?”

“Dance with me,” you say, smiling at him.

“You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me, right?” When he realizes you’re being serious, he shakes his head. “Y’know I don’t—I can’t dance.”

Dropping your hand back down to your side, you turn around and flip the record, starting the song over again before whirling back around and taking Joel’s hands in yours.

“Just follow my lead,” you tell him as you place them on your waist. Your own hands settle themselves on his broad shoulders, his skin warm beneath your fingertips. “Don’t overthink it.”

“You’re fuckin’ ridiculous,” Joel grumbles underneath his breath, however he finds himself moving along with you without further protest. Subconsciously, he pulls you closer against him as the two of you slowly sway from side to side along to the beat of the music. He chuckles, “Y’know we gotta be up at the asscrack of dawn for patrol, right?”

“And your point is?” You rest your head on his shoulder and exhale a soft, contended sigh.

Joel’s lips threaten to pull down once more.

Could it be that you’re actually content with him?

Head still on his shoulder, you sing along softly with Barbara Lewis. 

“I’m gonna stay right here by your side

do my best to keep you satisfied

nothing in this world can drive me away

‘cause every day you'll hear me say…”

It quickly becomes too much for him. Joel’s hands leave your waist. Taking your wrists, he tugs your arms from around his neck and gently pushes you away from him. “Why?” he finally asks the question that’s been hanging off the tip of his tongue for the better part of the last three years. “Why me?”

You stare at him, puzzled. “What?”

“Why me?” he repeats himself. “Why me when you can have anyone else—”

Your reply is prompt and you say it so simply.

“Because I don’t want anyone else.”

“You deserve better.”

You peer at him curiously. “I deserve better?”

“You do. Ain’t got no business being with someone like me. After all the terrible shit I’ve done—”

“I did the same exact shit, Joel. Sometimes I did even fucking worse.” Somehow, softness laces your tone. You have never been angry with him and you weren’t about to start now. “What makes my hands any cleaner than yours?”

Joel begins to sputter. “M’older than you. Much older. Should’a been a lot more careful. Should’a done more so you didn’t have to do those things.”

His hands still curled around your wrists, you reach up and gingerly cradle the sides of his face. He winces, but then quickly melts into your touch, the very same touch that could heal his wounds, if only he would allow it.

“I made my own choices,” you remind him, quietly. Neither of you realize the music has stopped. “Quit acting like blood doesn’t stain my hands too because it does.”

His lips press into a tight line. “Blood stains your hands ‘cause of me. S’my fault. I was responsible for you. I was s’pposed to take care of you. I didn’t protect you the way I should’ve.”

You sigh.

“When are you going to stop blaming yourself, Joel?”

The muscle in his jaw ticks as it clenches. He averts his gaze, his eyes falling to the floor. He doesn’t answer.

You stroke the scruff of his beard lightly with your thumbs. “When are you going to stop thinking you’re not good enough for me? What’s it going to take for me to prove to you that you are all I could ever need and want?”

“You’re just wastin’ your fuckin’ life on me, darlin’. S’the truth and you fuckin’ know it as well as I do.”

Pulling your wrists out of his hands, you pivot on your heel and suck in a sharp breath, stubbornly blinking back the tears stinging your eyes. You’re frustrated.

It cuts you to your very core to know the man you’ve grown to love more than anything and anyone else on what’s left of this fucking planet can’t see that he’s enough. He’s more than enough.

Joel bites back his own frustrated sigh. He knows he can’t rely on you to tell him, rely on the reassurance—he needs to do his part and believe it. If he keeps trying to push you away, he just may very well succeed one day. He will lose you.

After a moment, he walks up behind you and wraps his arms around you, his lips lightly brushing your neck. “M’sorry,” he mumbles, his own voice thickening as a lump forms in the back of his throat. He’s quick to swallow it down. “Jus’ have a hard time believin’ you’re mine. S’almost like my mind is lookin’ to prove me wrong.”

“But I am yours, Joel. I’m yours, I’m fucking yours.”

It’s more than just reassurance. It’s an oath, one you’ll honor for the rest of your life.

He holds you tighter. “Yeah?” He nips at the delicate spot right below your ear, his teeth scraping along tender flesh. “S’that right, baby? You’re all mine?”

“All yours,” you confirm breathlessly as his hands slowly begin trailing down the length of your sides, his fingers skimming the hem of his t-shirt.

Joel swiftly turns you around in his arms and slips his hand between your thighs. The next thing you know, he has you backed up against the counter and he’s shoving his sweatpants down, freeing his hard, thick cock. With one of your legs hooked around his waist, he buries himself into the warmth of your cunt and begins to deliver smooth, languid strokes.

“Say it again, baby,” he rasps into your neck. He coaxes your other leg up and around his waist and his large hands curl securely underneath your thighs as he bucks up into you. He’d deal with the back pain later. He pants, “Need—need to hear you say it, my sweet girl.”

You hold onto the countertop behind you as he fucks you, your fingernails digging into the laminated wood. “Fuck, I’m yours,” you moan into his shoulder. “I’m all yours, Joel. Oh fuck—”

You say it over and over again and he believes it.

He finally fucking believes it.

Sweet nothings fall from his lips with each thrust.

“S’lucky you’re all fuckin’ mine.”

“My beautiful, beautiful girl.”

“Gonna keep you for the rest of my fuckin’ life.”

When he spills into you, there’s no regret on his part nor yours. You’d always wanted to feel him come inside of you—secretly, so did he. Joel’s deep, guttural groans bounce off of the kitchen walls as your pussy fills with him, with all of him, taking as much as it can before he begins leaking out of you and down the insides of your thighs.

“Jesus,” he exhales. He dips his head for a kiss. “You’re all messy now, baby,” he mumbles against your lips. “How’s about we go upstairs and get back into bed so I can clean you up?”

Giggling, you mimic him and remind him of what he’d said earlier. “Y’know we gotta be up at the asscrack of dawn for patrol, right?”

Joel grins. “And your point is?”

You laugh again as he leads you out of the kitchen and back up to his bedroom—to yours and his bedroom.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller drabble #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel fic