#version of you song fic

[phonydiaries]

Beautiful Dreamer - P x Reader

Notes: This is a bit of a shorter fic from me and it's pure unadulterated fluff and sap and nobody gets stabbed! Which is really stretching myself as a writer, to be honest. You guys know I love nothing more than a good life-threatening injury. Anyways, no warnings for this one! Enjoy the cozy vibes <3 

---

It seemed somewhat magical in the beginning. 

Pino came running to you once, at the very break of dawn when you had just barely opened your eyes; too-bright sunlight stinging them as the puppet shook you from sleep. It was difficult for you to grasp what he meant, at first, to wrap your head around what he was trying to describe. His speechless manner of communication and your general grogginess certainly didn’t help matters. But through a series of signs and expressions from Pinocchio, you came to understand. In his slow but sure gaining of humanity the boy had begun to dream at night. 

You were vaguely aware that he did not dream before, and didn’t exactly sleep in the way humans did (although he did something similar enough that you personally couldn’t tell the difference). 

“Is it… pleasant?” You asked him, genuinely quite curious as to what a strange thing dreams must seem to someone who had never known them. It had the potential to be wondrous and peaceful, but at the same overwhelming and utterly confusing. P seemed to take your question into careful consideration, really mulling it over. His eyes shone bright as he finally nodded decisively. 

For all his excitement over this newfound ability, Pinocchio was frankly dreadful in his attempts at describing his dreams to you. You tried earnestly to follow along, but his gestures and expressions would eventually become too complicated and frenetic for you to follow and so you found yourself utterly lost in his recollections. It was after one such frustrating night that you gifted him a pocket journal to write in. This was much preferred for both of you, and you came to enjoy the routine of him eagerly handing off his scribblings for you to interpret in the morning. You would sit elbow to elbow at the table, sipping morning tea and reading his writing aloud, while he listened and nodded along captivated, his chin resting over his hands on the table. 

His writing was uncharacteristically scratchy, with words often misspelled or crossed out implying that he was simply transcribing for speed and not coherence. Now and then there would be an addition of a crude drawing, sometimes the vague outline of a rabbit or a rushed impression of beaming stars. 

One day, when it was particularly gloomy, you and Pino wandered to the library. Silence between the two of you was not uncommon, nor was it in any way awkward or uncomfortable. With the heavy fall of rain against the roof on this day, you found the quiet between the shelves especially peaceful. By the orange glow of a lantern, you turned the pages of a dream-interpretation guide. It was a small and somewhat battered thing and had been picked up eagerly by Pinocchio of course, who sat on the floor with crossed legs, chin resting in the heels of his hands as he listened to you, enthralled. In hushed tones, you ran down bulleted lists of common dreams and all the cryptic mysteries they may contain. 

“Here, how about this one, have you ever dreamed that your teeth were falling out?” You asked, pointing to a passage in the book. P slapped a hand over his mouth and shook his head vigorously, looking suddenly very concerned with keeping said teeth firmly in his mouth. You couldn’t help chucking as you turned the page. 

The day wore on, and the oil in your lantern burned down to nothing, the dim light flickering across an eerie illustration. You’d been leafing through an art book of the romantic era painters and left off on a Fuseli painting of a tormented woman being peered upon unknowingly by some manner of devil. You found the page quite off putting honestly, and closed the book. 

“I figure that’s enough of that. What do you say, Pino-oh.” 

As you addressed your puppet companion in the dark, you came to see that he sat on the floor still, slumped against the foot of your chair. His cheek was sunk into his left shoulder, eyes shut, breathing soft and shallow. The serenity of the scene warmed your heart some, and you leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Pino…” you whispered, and ran a hand through his hair in an effort to wake him. But he didn’t stir, seemingly in a deep sleep. You were sorry for the uncomfortable condition he seemed to be posed in, but you didn’t want to disturb the poor puppet. You gathered your things and left quietly, shuffling off to your quarters. 

It was around midnight that the puppet woke with a panicked gasp. He was surprised to find his legion arm held up defensively, as if in anticipation of an invisible attack. His eyes searched his surroundings frantically, and only when he recognized the library did he hesitantly lower his arm. In the darkness he felt quite uneasy and disoriented. He tried to recall your soothing hushed voice. It had put him into quite a state it seemed before he eventually drifted off. It was in stark contrast to the current thrumming of his mechanical heart and the uncomfortable quickness of his breaths. He had dreamed something wholly unpleasant, and with some sadness realized this new facet of humanity came with drawbacks. He did not care much for these dreams at all.

Pinocchio made his way down the corridor to your quarters, his steps echoing eerily. He threw pointed glances over his shoulder frequently, half expecting some monstrous creature to appear suddenly in the halls of Hotel Krat. The simple casting of shadows had never before made him so on-edge. When he reached your room, he opened the door slowly and peered inside. You lay there in the dark beneath silk sheets, curled in on yourself and sleeping soundly. With great care not to startle you, he knelt by your bedside and nudged you in the back. Your head flinched momentarily, but you otherwise remained still. With some urgency he took your shoulder and shook until you stirred. Rubbing your eyes wearily, you rolled over to face him. 

“Pino, it’s ah…it’s late isn’t it? Can’t it wait til morning..?” You grumbled. He shook his head almost apologetically and squeezed your shoulder. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you were able to make out unfamiliar anxious creases in his expression. You willed yourself into a greater awareness and sat up promptly. “What is it, what’s wrong?” You asked, your tone softening significantly. P gestured in the direction of the library and rummaged around in his pocket for a moment. He retrieved the pocket journal you’d given him and pointed several times at the most recent entry. You squinted. On the left page he had simply blacked out the entire thing with a pen, and on the right page the phrase “strung up” was written several frantic times with increasing disregard for legibility. 

When you looked up at him to clarify, he raised his hands limp above his head and dropped his chin to his chest. The image was admittedly shuddersome and he cast a long and spindly shadow across the wall. 

“I see.” You said, closing the journal. “You had a nightmare, hm? All strung up like an ordinary puppet.” Your heart fell for the poor boy. It must’ve been terribly frightening for him. 

Pinocchio nodded solemnly, not meeting your eyes. He stared off blankly and rubbed his wrists, as if easing a phantom feeling of restraints. You took note of this and hummed softly. 

“Here, may I see?” You asked, and pulled his arm towards you. You made a show of inspecting it and tapping your chin thoughtfully. Holding his arm with one hand, you stuck up two fingers like a pair of scissors and pretended to snip the invisible puppet string. You repeated this mimic on his other arm and then took his hands in yours, placing a kiss on the back of each. 

“All gone.” 

Pinocchio looked at you with a kind of boyish wonder. He raised one fist to the crown of his head with a smile, making a  pshhh sound and opening his hand, giving the impression of a miniature explosion.

“Think you’ll be alright for the rest of the night?”

At this he shifted a little. His fingers busied themselves, twisting in the bedsheets. He was obviously still shaken up somewhat. You could understand that, although it was a bit of a surprise to learn that someone so nearly indestructible could be afraid of the dark. 

“Alright,” you sighed, lifting the sheets. “Get in here.” 

P’s chin jutted forward and his brow furrowed at your offer. You just gestured to the space beside you with your head. “Go on, before I change my mind.” You teased. At this, Pinocchio clambered up into your bed and nuzzled his face into the pillow. As he got settled. You pulled the sheet over his shoulders and snaked your arm up around him from behind. Your nose pressed against the nape of his neck and you breathed in the smell of him, like fresh rain. 

“Have no fear, my puppet.” You said sleepily against his skin. “Your trusty human won’t let anything steal you away from me in the night.” You heard him snicker at this, but you knew without a doubt he felt safer here with you and vice versa. It was sweet, really. 

By the time the sun rose you were both still sound asleep, all tangled in each other’s limbs, looking like lovers in the warm morning light. The day could wait a little longer. 

#originally this fic was called sing me to sleep bc I was listening to the suckerpunch soundtrack version of Asleep on loop #so if you want the full experience queue that song up while you read #lydia dropping art history refs like a fucking nerd #extremely soft pino #lies of p #lies of p fanfic #lop #lies of p x reader #pinocchio x reader #lies of p fanart #fluff #my writing

[herlondonboy]

I Can See You

pairings: Taylor Swift x gn!reader

summary: a hallway romance with Taylor Swift on the set of Valentine’s Day idk what else to say

warnings: it’s mostly just you and Taylor making out tbh, doesn’t really follow the song greatly idk. Probably spelling mistakes

word count: 2.2k

You can see her.

You can always see her. She does it on purpose. Flaunts herself in ways that only you would be able to notice. Whether it be the way she flips her hair or how her hips sway whilst she’s walking.

You watch Taylor from across the hall, completely captivated by her every move. The way she carries herself with confidence and grace mesmerizes you. It's in these stolen moments of observation that you realize your heart has been claimed by her.

Your joy knows no bounds when you remember that you and Taylor are in a secret relationship, even if it means keeping it hidden from the world. The thrill of knowing that your connection is something special, something intimate, fills your heart with warmth.

As you pass by Taylor you carefully slip a folded note into her pocket, your hand trembling with excitement. The note simply reads, "meet me at midnight. you know where."

The thought of meeting Taylor in the secrecy of night sends a rush of anticipation through your veins. You both share the knowledge of that special place, the secret hallway where your romance blossoms. It's a place where you can be yourselves, away from prying eyes and judgment.

With each passing moment, your excitement builds, wondering if Taylor will find the note and accept your invitation. The thought of being in her arms, even if just for a stolen moment, makes your heart flutter with anticipation.

As the clock strikes midnight, you find yourself standing in the familiar secret hallway. The dim lighting casts an ethereal glow, setting the stage for a clandestine meeting. Every second feels like an eternity, until finally, you hear the soft sound of footsteps approaching.

And there she is, Taylor, standing before you, her eyes filled with the same longing and excitement that you feel. In that moment, the world around you fades away, and it's just the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of your secret love.

The weight of the formal attire lingers on your shoulders, but the sight of Taylor entering the hallway brings a spark of joy to your weary heart.

As she approaches, a tender smile graces Taylor’s lips. “You’ve been looking quite dapper today,” she says, her voice filled with admiration. “But let me fix that tie for you.”

You stand still, grateful for her presence and the touch of her gentle hands. Taylor steps closer, her fingers delicately adjusting the knot of your tie, her eyes locked with yours.

“There we go,” she says, her voice a soft whisper. “Now, you’re perfect.”

The intimate gesture fills your heart with warmth, and you can’t help but reach out, placing a hand on Taylor’s cheek. “Thank you,” you say, your voice filled with gratitude. “You always know how to make everything better.”

She smiles, her eyes filled with affection. “It’s my pleasure,” she replies, her voice carrying a hint of tenderness.

As you embrace, you savour the sweetness of this hidden connection, cherishing the stolen moments and the magic they bring. In this secret hallway, your love can thrive, untouched by the outside world.

“I missed you,” you whispered into her neck.

Taylor giggled at your words. “We saw each other an hour ago.”

“So?” You ask as you break away so you can rest your back against the opposite wall.

Taylor's gaze meets yours from across the hall, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Without a moment's hesitation, she strides purposefully toward you, her steps filled with determination. In an instant, she presses you against the wall, her lips crashing into yours with a passionate intensity.

Your heart pounds in your chest as the world around you fades away. The feeling of her touch, the taste of her kiss, ignites a fire within you. The hidden hallway seems to shrink, encompassing only the two of you in this stolen moment of desire.

But just as the heat of the moment reaches its peak, a sound in the distance catches your attention. A faint rustling, an indication that someone may be approaching. Reluctantly, Taylor breaks the kiss, her eyes filled with a mixture of longing and caution.

“What if it’s your parents?” You ask in a whisper.

Taylor shushes you. “It’s late, they’ll be asleep.”

The air crackles with anticipation as you both catch your breath, your bodies still pressed against each other. The possibility of being caught heightens the intensity of the moment, the risk making it all the more exhilarating.

With a shared understanding, you exchange a knowing glance, silently acknowledging the need for caution. This secret love affair, although thrilling, carries the weight of secrecy. In this fleeting moment, you must retreat, allowing the world to return to its unaware state.

Reluctantly, you disentangle yourselves, stepping back from the wall. The hallway regains its anonymity, concealing the passion that sparked between you. But the electricity lingers, a reminder of the hidden love that continues to thrive within the shadows.

“Taylor,” You call out last minute, making her turn to you. “I love you.”

The blonde grins at you. “I love you too, baby.”

As you part ways, your eyes lock for a brief moment, filled with unspoken promises. The secret hallway will always be your refuge, a place where your love can flourish away from prying eyes. And until the next stolen moment, you carry the taste of her kiss and the memory of her touch, fueling your desire until you can meet again.

And as the night unfolds, you know that no matter how hidden your romance may be, the love you share with Taylor is a treasure worth protecting. In the silence of the secret hallway, your hearts beat as one, bound by the strength of a love that can withstand any obstacle.

You can't resist the overwhelming desire that consumes you after that stolen, passionate kiss with Taylor. The need for more, for deeper connection, drives you to take a daring step. Under the cover of darkness, you find yourself sneaking into Taylor's trailer.

Heart pounding, you carefully navigate through the quiet film set, making sure not to draw attention to your covert mission. The anticipation mounts with every step, your mind filled with visions of what lies ahead.

As you enter Taylor's trailer, the familiar scent of her lingers in the air, intensifying your longing. The space feels intimate, a reflection of the private moments you've shared. You search for her, your heart racing with both excitement and apprehension.

Finally, you find her, sitting near the vanity, engrossed in her own thoughts. You approach silently, taking a moment to appreciate the beauty and vulnerability she exudes in this private sanctuary. Her presence fills the room with an intoxicating energy.

Without a word, you reach out, gently tracing your fingers along her cheek, eliciting a shiver of anticipation. Taylor's eyes meet yours, and a knowing smile dances on her lips. The unspoken connection between you deepens, an invisible thread that binds your souls.

Time seems to stand still as you draw closer, your bodies gravitating toward one another. The air crackles with electric anticipation as your lips meet once more, this time with a hunger that surpasses any previous encounter. The world outside fades away as you immerse yourselves in this stolen moment of pure passion.

Your heart races as you feel the soft touch of Taylor's lips against yours, igniting a wildfire of desire within you. The sound of footsteps drawing near becomes a distant echo, drowned out by the intensity of the moment. In this private haven, where it's just the two of you, nothing else matters.

You cling to Taylor, your bodies pressed close, unwilling to let go. The urgency of your connection overrides any sense of caution. Time seems suspended as you savour the taste of her kiss, the warmth of her embrace, relishing this stolen moment.

Despite the approaching footsteps growing louder, you choose to stay, to revel in this private bubble you've created. The outside world becomes a mere backdrop to your shared passion, a distant murmur that fails to intrude upon your sanctuary.

With each passing second, your desire deepens, and the embrace intensifies. The urgency of the situation only heightens the sensations, as if the risk itself adds fuel to the flames of your love.

Finally, as the approaching sound reaches its peak, reality crashes back with a jolt. You reluctantly break away, breathless and longing for more, knowing that discretion is crucial to preserving the secret of your love.

But as you catch your breath and lock eyes with Taylor, there is an unspoken understanding. The connection you share is too powerful to be confined by the constraints of the outside world. In this private moment, your love feels unbreakable, invincible.

As you part, the sound of footsteps retreats, and the world outside your embrace falls back into focus. But the memory of that stolen kiss lingers, a reminder of the passion you share, a secret flame that burns brightly within you both.

In this private haven, you find solace, knowing that no matter the obstacles or the risk, your love for Taylor is worth every moment of clandestine bliss. And as you walk away, the anticipation of your next stolen encounter fuels your spirits, ready to face the world until you can be together again, in the secrecy of your love's embrace.

With a final, lingering glance, you retreat from Taylor's trailer, leaving behind the traces of your stolen intimacy. The taste of her kiss, the touch of her skin, remains etched in your memory, fueling your desire until the next illicit affair.

As you step back into the world, you carry the weight of this secret love affair, the knowledge of what lies between you and Taylor. The thrill of these stolen moments intertwines with the ache for something more. For now, the secret hallway and the hidden moments continue to be the stage for your passionate connection, an enigmatic romance that dances on the edge of discovery.

-

You and Taylor had been cautious about your secret relationship, trying to keep your emotions under wraps on the set of your film. But it seemed that your cast mates had become more observant than you anticipated.

One day, as you and Taylor shared a subtle exchange of glances during a break, you noticed a mischievous smile pass between Emma, one of your co-stars, and Carter, another cast member. Their knowing looks spoke volumes, making you realize that they had been keeping a watchful eye on the two of you.

As the days went by, more instances occurred that hinted at your cast mates' suspicions. They would drop playful hints or make comments that seemed innocent to others but held deeper meaning for you and Taylor. The whispered gossip behind closed doors became more frequent, making it clear that your secret wasn't as hidden as you had hoped.

Faced with this newfound awareness, you and Taylor held a private meeting in the secret hallway, where your love had blossomed. The dim lighting and the familiarity of the space offered solace and comfort as you discussed the situation.

“We can't deny that they're onto us," Taylor admitted, a mix of concern and determination in her eyes. "Our secret isn't as secret as we thought."

You nodded, understanding the need for caution. "It's better to be safe than sorry," you replied softly. "We have to be more careful, even if it means not revealing our relationship to anyone. Quieter.”

Taylor sighed, her fingers intertwining with yours. "I wish we could shout our love from the rooftops, but I agree. For now, we have to protect what we have."

The decision weighed heavily on your hearts, but you knew it was necessary to safeguard your love and maintain a harmonious work environment. The secret hallway, once a place of passionate rendezvous, now became a haven where you strategized and found strength together.

From that day forward, you and Taylor became masters of subtlety. You kept your interactions on set professional, always aware of prying eyes and listening ears. Any longing glances or stolen touches were hidden beneath a façade of friendship, allowing your love to simmer beneath the surface.

It was a challenging task, suppressing your emotions and refraining from displaying your affection openly. But in the quiet moments when you were alone, you found solace in each other's arms, cherishing the stolen moments that only the secret hallway could offer.

As time passed, your cast mates' suspicions seemed to fade, their attention shifting to other matters. The initial intensity of their curiosity waned, leaving you and Taylor with a sense of relief. Yet, you remained vigilant, knowing that the eyes of others were still watchful, even if less openly.

In the end, your secret relationship became a testament to the strength of your connection. It proved that love could thrive even in the most hidden corners, and that the power of shared secrets could strengthen your bond.

And while you yearned for a time when you could openly share your love, you found solace in the whispered exchanges and stolen moments that continued to fuel your passion. The secret hallway, with all its memories and the love it held, became a symbol of resilience—a testament to the enduring power of your love.

#taylor swift #taylor swift x reader #taylor swift imagine #speak now taylor’s version #i can see you #Speak Now #taylor x reader #taylor x y/n #gender neutral reader #gn!reader #taylor Swift x you #taylor Swift x y/n #taylor swift one shot #taylor swift songs #song fic #elijah writes #elijah random

[avalynlestrange]

Speak Now

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Reader: she/her pronouns

Warnings: I didn’t proof read this. Let me know if there are any mistakes or if there are other warnings I should add.

Category: Post-Hogwarts, ex to lovers, wedding interruption, songfic, one-shot, angst?, fluff?

Summary: In which you rudely barge in on a white veil occasion.

No Sneak Peak 😋

Author’s Note: I’ve been feeling uninspired and unwell recently but I’m back 💞 This is my entry to week 2 of @hpcottagecorefest

Word Count: <2k

To The Library (fics masterlist)

To The Kitchen (WIPs)

To More Draco Malfoy fics

To Speak Now Anthology

You are not the kind of girl who should be rudely barging in on a white veil occasion. Yet here you are dressed in formal attire, sitting at the seventh to the front bench of the great hall of the Malfoy manor. You had to come to see groom and Draco was not the kind of boy who should be marrying the wrong girl. You would be lying if you said you weren’t taken aback at the news of his engagement to one Astoria Greengrass a few months ago but it had pained you to hear it; especially through the mouth of an acquaintance.

He didn’t even have the nerve to say it to you. Then again why would he? You had been broken up for nearly year. But everybody knew you would get back together.

Well, everybody thought you would.

You always did. It was the norm for your relationship. Sure, this was the longest you’ve been apart but he somehow dated and proposed to Astoria within that 10 months.

You scoff at that thought. Must be their families doing. That’s probably why you didn’t get an invitation.

So you did what you had to in order to get into the event. You snuck in and see your friends and her snotty little family all dressed in pastel. There were different entrances to Malfoy Manor. You knew them like the back of your hand. Days and nights were spent here, running around playing hide and seek that lead to romantic encounters in nooks and crannies. No one truly checks who enters the servant quarters and those working this event, luckily, did not know who you were or were too busy to care.

You are sitting next to Blaise, who said he would say that he brought you as his plus one. If any one asked. Pansy said she truly would have brought you, if not for her being a bridesmaid. She had known the Greengrass sisters since she was born but was only told she was part of the entourage a week prior.

It’s not like you didn’t know the sisters yourself. You were close with Daphne during your school years and met Astoria when you visited Daphne’s home during the summer after first year and she was not as carefree as her older sister, even as a nine year old.

“She’s probably yelling at a bridesmaid somewhere.” You whisper to Blaise.

“Yeah, Pansy texted me earlier that Astoria’s gown is shaped like a pastry.” He snickers as he shows you the picture Pansy had sent him. You feign a laugh. Astoria looked gorgeous in the photo.

But this is surely not what Draco thought it would be. After the second wizarding war he vowed not to be caught up in his parent’s views and expectations ever again. It had nearly gotten him killed. You recall the nights you comforted him in your arms as he sobbed and scrubbed the mark on his forearm. How you missed wrapping your arms around him and being wrapped by his.

A cough snaps you out of your daydream. You look up and see Daphne with her furrowed eyebrows.

“You can’t be here.” She gestures for you to stand up. “My mom has seen you and told Astoria. So you have to-”

“She’s my date.” Blaise interrupts.

“And you know bloody well that this would happen.” Daphne ushers you and you follow her to the back of the hall.

“Look as much as I was rooting for you and Draco, I have to side with my sister. You need to go.” She hears her name being called and rushes to them.

Once Daphne is no longer in sight, you sneak back into the far back left side of the hall where long curtains drape. This was your last chance to stop this all. You couldn’t try to stop the engagement, but you can definitely try and prevent the union. It wasn’t a choice you made so lightly. Many sleepless nights nearer the date and you had made your mind up.

You couldn’t lose Draco. You had gone through so much together. There was so much love still there. No matter how many times you broke up and made up. You were meant to be. You know he knows it. So you hide behind the curtains.

The organ starts to play a song that sounds like a death march. In between the two curtains, you peak at the start of the ceremony. Out comes Gardenia Greengrass in mint green. She never did like you when you met. She and Narcissa had been close childhood friends who dreamt of their children being wed and uniting the families. However, when Draco mentioned that you were his girlfriend during fifth year, their hopes were shattered and they were not warm towards you.

You sneak out of the curtains and sit at the back bench. The hall is filled with familiar faces but luckily the person next to you was too watching the ceremony to notice you.

As the wedding processional order proceeds to the grandparents, fond gestures are exchanged.

Then he walks through the door.

They say time stops when you’re in love. They are right. The intense feeling you have as you see him in his white suit and mint pocket square, his platinum blond locks in low fade cut, and his ice grey eyes wandering the hall sent butterflies to your stomach.

But they are heavy. It’s all wrong. This isn’t how you imagined seeing him down an aisle. Your stomach drops at the weight of it all.

You and Draco often talked about how your wedding would be. Which colour palette to use, which flowers, which venue and you see nothing of his preferences in what is all around you.

Draco stands at the altar awaiting his bride.

The music changes.

Astoria floats down the aisle like a pageant queen. You look to Draco and back to his bride. The butterflies are dancing around in your stomach and you are feeling a little nauseous.

But you know he wishes it you.

Doesn’t he?

Draco fixes his tie and looks around the room. He squints as he pats down his blazer. You know all his tells. By the way he fidgets with his family ring. He’s nervous. He takes a sharp inhale when he realises that Astoria is in front of him. She takes his hands in hers. A part of you breaks when you see him smile as he looks into her eyes.

You pay no mind to the words until you hear the preacher say, “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

There’s a silence. There’s your last chance. You stand up with shaking hands.

All eyes on you.

Horrified looks from everyone in the room but you’re only looking at Draco.

He drops Astoria’s hands and faces you fully. You walk to aisle. Astoria’s mother stands up, but you start to speak.

“I’m sorry… Actually, I’m not sorry at all. Draco don't say a single vow. Don’t say yes.”

Your eyes are on his. Gasps from the people around you echoes in the hall.

“Let’s just run away now.” You continue. “I'll meet you when you're out of the Manor, at the back door.”

Your legs feel like they are going to give up on you when silence ensues. Draco is still standing at the altar. Hushed whispers follows. He opens his mouth as if to say something but he shuts it as quickly. He looks back and forth from you to Astoria. He looks back to you and says nothing.

That’s when you lose all the hopes you had. He really must be in this for love and not for his parents sake. You bite your lower lip and pick at the skin.

You don’t say another word and you walk out the manor. The metallic taste of blood seeps onto your tongue as you hold back the sobs that threaten to creep out. And as soon as you are out the grand entrance you drop to sit on the cold steps. All the what ifs crawl all over you as you wait on whether he will follow you out. You shiver.

Time is dragging. It feels like an eternity.

So you run. As fast as your shoes can take you. To the meadows nearby. It’s not the summer memories that flood your mind. No. Not the picnics amidst the flowers where you now sit. But the missed opportunities.

You should have told him you wanted him back sooner. You should have said something before they even got engaged. You should have never gone to this event. How stupid of you.

The scent of the pastel blue and baby pink flowers linger in the air. He used to pick them for you and placed them in your hair. The compliments he would shower you as you adorn them. Now they are tainted with the memories of them being in the decorations of their wedding. They must have been here together.

You grab a fist full of flowers in your hands and pluck them forcefully, chucking it with all the strength you can muster.

You hear your name being gently called. It didn’t register as a voice from someone near you. You’ve heard it so many times before. Draco did often visit you in dreams.

He places himself next to you.

“What? Come to tell me the good news in person? I must be so special.” You pick at the flowers once more. He doesn’t speak for the longest time. The breeze cooling down your heated cheeks. Shouldn’t he be at the reception?

“Remember when I first brought you here? You were so nervous about telling my parents about us.”

“Of course! Narcissa already hated me since you lot blamed me for breaking her favourite vase.” You remark.

The decision of sharing a bottle of fire whiskey stolen from the cabinets and pretending to be studying at the manor library seemed like a good idea then.

“It wasn’t my idea! Goyle just said it to protect me. Crabbe just went along-“

“Plus she was already furious when she heard that you dated girls that wasn’t a Greengrass. Bet she’s happy now.” You scoff.

“She actually loved you.” He confesses. “Every time I visited home without you she made me bring you your favourite dish.”

“That’s why we always had a bunch of them in the fridge when you got back.”

“Where did you think they came from?”

“I don’t know! I thought you bought it somewhere. You never mentioned they came from your mom!”

“I did! The first time when I went after New Years cause you had work.”

“I don’t remember that was ages ago!”

He laughs and offers you flower crown he had made.

“I’ve missed this.”

“What? Us bickering?”

“Yeah and just you in general.”

You frown at him and ask, “Why are you here? Should you be back at the party?”

He props down the offering in between you then looks to the horizon.

“I didn’t say my vows.” He pauses to see your reaction. However, when you didn’t respond he carries on.

“My father was the one who arranged all of this. After all these years and he still has an influence on me. Which is why I’m so glad you were around when they said, ‘Speak Now’. Ever since we broke up, I’ve been a mess.

“I keep going to my fireplace to floo to you and when I finally did you had moved out of our place. Figured you’d moved on. Broke more vases. It drove me crazy when you never came to any social events. I’ve missed you so much. You’re the one I love.”

He motions his open palm to you and says, “Shall we run away now?”

#hpcottagecorefest2023 #Draco malfoy x reader #Draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy imagine #inspired by a taylor swift song #avalynlestrangewrites #Draco malfoy fluff #Draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfic #Draco malfoy #speak now taylor’s version #speak now tv #wizarding world fandom

[sciderman]

okay so like assuming the budget cuts are somewhat canon, and assuming Peter is Anita's boy toy because of the fanfic, is Wade anything to Olive? Do they have anything established between them? Or has Wade not officially met Olive yet, is he going too?

hooh. hoooh. do i already have a playlist for this too? oh you betcha

wade hasn't officially met olive yet, but we kind of get an inkling to how wade would probably react to olive, just in how wade reacts whenever peter does present more femme.

[x]

wade's starving for olive. he's so, so... SO... just. be-yoing. cartoon boner sounds abound. wade's brain cannot function around him. his blood's just too busy flowing in the southernly direction.

i think olive delights in actually having the upper-hand in this dynamic. wade gets stupid. like. legitimately stupid when he's around olive. verbal diarrhoea. jaw stupidly agape. wolf sounds. salivating like pavlov's dog at dinner time.

yeah. yeah.

i'm kind of obsessed with peter and olive treated as two entirely separate identities, in the same way wade and anita are - so when peter goes on a date with anita - peter deals with anita as though she's an entirely different person to wade - and wade consents to that relationship, as though it were a polyamorous sort of a deal. peter's out on a date with anita tonight, and wade just has to wait at home for peter to come back, and he'll ask him how it went. it's just - it's cute. and similarly, wade and olive have an act going where wade has no idea it's peter. even though there's no mask and no arrangement or agreement between them - wade commits to the bit immediately on impact with olive, and honest to god, you'd believe it's genuine. he can't put two and two together – olive's so different from peter, there's no way they're the same person.

i think the hilarious thing is wade and olive's dynamic vs peter and anita's - god. peter is so, so respectful of anita - they take ages to get past first base, because peter's so sweet, and cautious, and also so respectful over wade's emotions, because - because he doesn't want to betray wade. spoilers for a peter/anita follow-up fic that i might finish. one day.

wade is no such gentleman. he cheats on peter immediately. peter ceases to exist when olive is around. peter? who's peter? i don't think olive cares all too much. and peter legitimately is none the wiser. while wade's aware of anita and introduces peter to her - peter genuinely has no idea about olive's existence. peter is getting cucked by olive and he doesn't know about it. please, please don't tell him.

#ask-spiderpool #the duality.. #maybe we're just like that pina colada song. haha alexa play escape by rupert holmes #if you like pinaaa coladaaas... #i really do want to write an olive/wade fic in the same vein as the peter/anita fic #it'll be so sordid. and such a different fic from my usual because i think it'd be such a different version of wade. #i'm honestly so eager to write the most himbo iteration of wade you've ever seen. #a wade who isn't clever or indirect in any sort of way. just plain stupidt. overt horndoggery. a wade in his simplest format. #animal instinct wade. #caveman wade wilson. ungh ooga booga.

[dearsnow]

EVERYWHERE, EVERYTHING

- your best friend comes home for the first time after joining the military. (jon snow x gn!reader, modern au, some parts are sad but it’s mostly fluffy). part of the mixtape 2: our version collab

based on “everywhere, everything” by noah kahan

word count: 3,530

a/n - i love jon sm but me personally? i would not be able to stand having a military man because i would be sad he’s not in my arms every day 🥲

Coming back to his large family house in his little hometown leaves Jon feeling conflicted. The snow is the same. The barren trees, the little snowmen on the front lawn, the crunch of leaves underfoot- everything is the same. It’s so similar to the life he once had, yet so different. As he gazes upon the once-warm house in the cold north, he finds it hard to swallow. His half-siblings have grown so much that he can hardly recognize the littlest ones; they went from lumps of blankets and tears to little people with their own thoughts and complicated personalities.

He will see you, too, and he isn’t sure if he can even handle the idea.

Leaving to join the military was one of the hardest things he ever had to do, yet it was necessary. Northward Base, lovingly nicknamed “The Wall” by its residents, had opened so many opportunities for him. Honor to his family and whatnot. He had gone through so much with his brothers, and there was yet more to come. But he is back now, at his old doorstep.

Sansa stands in the doorway, leaning on the side of it. Arya hasn’t spotted him yet, though he is sure she will rush him with a hug and a million questions when she does. Robb offers to take his luggage in with him, but Jon shakes his head with a smile. He can carry his own bags now.

You’ve been waiting for this day for so long. After years, years of waiting and writing to him and sitting in your own isolation, your best friend is at the tips of your numb fingers. As you stare out your window, almost afraid he would disappear again if you blink, you remember the day he left.

It was barely the middle of fall. There were dead leaves raked in piles outside of his house, the house you frequented, and you felt an almost childish urge. Who could stop you, though?

You jumped in a pile, the material underneath your boots giving out a crackling noise so loud it alerted the attention of the newly eleven-year-old Arya. She quickly jumped in with you, tackling you to the ground. You fell with a ‘fwump’, a giggle bubbling up through your stomach like warm cider. The ground was hard, the hidden rock underneath the left side of your back even harder, but all you could feel was joy.

You were too grown to be playing like that, and you knew it. You figured, though, that you had too little time to not enjoy every second of it. A mildly shocked Jon watched from the sidelines.

“Having fun?” He called. You laughed, the sound ringing out like a harmony to his ears.

“Definitely. Why don’t you come join us?” You tried to stand back up, but the child in your lap was making it a lot harder. Arya stuck out her tongue.

“Yeah, have a little fun!”

Jon shook his head. “Not today, I’m afraid.” He hesitated. “I actually have something to talk to you about.” He was looking so deeply into your soul you were sure he could see the words rumbling at the back of your throat.

Arya knew. She knew what he had to tell you, and she knew what you would say, and she decided that she would rather die than see the light fade from your eyes. She looked between the two of you for a moment then scampered away into the house behind her.

Your head was spinning. Why would she just leave like that? You knew her. She needed to know every moment, every interaction, every little glance between friend or foe. She would surely stay, unless (of course) she was already clued into the situation.

Jon took a deep breath, and you could tell his heart was aching just by the look in his deep brown eyes. His fists were clenched at his side and his breaths formed quick clouds in the cool air. You stood up, and he didn’t move to brush the leaves out of your hair like he normally would. His hands stayed still, so you took them in yours. He was ice cold.

“I’m leaving.” Oh, your Jon. So quick to the point.

“When? To where?” You questioned. You knew he had to leave at some point. You were leaving for college in the next month, though your university was so close to your home it was barely a drive.

“Today,” He whispered, “to join the military.” Your heart dropped down to your feet. You could feel a sting in your eyes, like a wave of salt water had suddenly drowned you. You now understand why Arya left so quickly.

“Today.” A prickle formed behind your eyes. “How could you not tell me? I won’t be able to see you for so long.” 

He wilted like a dying flower. “I was going to. I would’ve told you when I first thought about enlisting, but it was finals week. It felt like a bad time. Then, so much happened and I just… I just couldn’t do it. But I’m leaving for Northward today, and I needed to tell you before I went.” He swallowed thickly. You looked so crestfallen, with your teary eyes and shaking voice. He wished he didn’t have to leave you like that, but he had made up his mind long ago.

“I wish you had told me earlier.” You choked out. He winced a little bit. “At the very least, I could’ve spent more time with you. Gotten milkshakes at the café by the church one more time,” his fists tighten more than he even thought possible. “but I want you to know that I support your decision. I believe you’ll be the best they’ve ever seen.”

You wanted to scream. To yell, to beg and clutch at his coat and plead for him to stay. A rabid animal had taken over your heart, clawing at your insides and shredding your resolve like cheese.

Jon could tell you were on the verge of tears just by looking at your shifting eyes. If you were a subject, he would pass with flying colors. He didn’t know what to do except embrace you.

You sunk into his arms like they were a plush comforter. The sun was collapsing, but with him, you were safe. That would have to change soon. 

You could feel your tears making wet little marks on his shirt as your feelings finally bubbled over. He was leaving. You wouldn’t see him for a long, long time after that day, and you didn’t know how you would be able to stand it.

He lifted your chin with gentle hands. He hated seeing you cry, whether it was from a sad movie or something far more serious, so he did the only thing his heart could think of doing.

He pressed his lips to yours, and the sun finally exploded behind you.

You step out onto the sidewalk nervously, and past his driveway, you can see Jon. He’s just standing there, exchanging banter with Robb. Your heart is nearly beating out of your chest. Then, finally, he turns around.

When his eyes lock with yours, it’s like nothing ever changed. He’s taller now, with more muscle, a lot more scars, and a lot less hair. But he’s still Jon. You know his face like the back roads in Winterfell, the ones you can drive with your eyes closed. You know him like the little dorm that has been your new home for the past few years. God, you know him.

When you were sixteen, and he had just gotten his license, he took you out for a drive. He went on the back roads, the bumpy ones that sent you flying if you weren’t properly strapped in. You sat in the front seat of his brother’s old truck as you talked about anything and everything you could ever talk about.

When he reached his destination and laid out blankets in the bed of the truck, you didn’t know that in a few years, he would be gone. You laid in his arms that day as you watched the clouds meander by overhead. It was summer. The air was fresh, the grass field was peaceful, his breath was on your neck, and the birds were singing their twittering little songs. For a quiet boy, he sure talked a lot when it was just you and him. He was curious and lively in those little moments. His stoicism was put off to the side and he could talk freely when you looked at him. Your eyes were just so inviting he couldn’t stop his words from tumbling over the edge.

“I want to join the military someday. It’ll make my dad happy, I think, knowing I’m in there with my uncle. For once, maybe I can be more than my father’s unfortunate mistake. But I also know that it means leaving Winterfell behind, maybe forever. It means leaving everywhere, everything, and everyone. I wonder if I could even make a decision like that.” He said, eyes glued to the sky above. It was nice like that, you thought. Watching him watch the clouds.

“Whatever you decide, I’ll always be here for you.” You responded simply. It was true. Somehow, you knew you would still love him even if he was a million miles away. You would love him if he got a lover, though you would try your best to stop, and you would love him when he was dead. You would love him when you were dead, too. You would love him so deeply the worms would taste his lips on your rotting skin. “Just remember to write me every once in a while.” You didn’t know how soon he would be leaving, and looking back on it, you should have seen the signs. You should’ve known that he would leave the moment he graduated. He was always like that, persevering and fighting and marching forward the moment life called for it. But in the moment, you couldn’t even fathom life without your best friend. The only thing that mattered was the present.

He had brought a little laptop, and you both binge-watched bad rom-coms until you fell asleep wrapped in blankets that smelled like him. 

He takes a step towards you, unsure. You’re unsure too, but a magnetic force pulls you forward until you’re both stumbling over your feet to get to each other. You crash into him, and he holds you like you might shatter and break. “Jon,” You whisper, “I missed you so much.” He smiles.

“I surely missed you more.” 

You shake your head with a laugh. “Impossible. I wrote you so many letters they could fill a book, and I saved all of your texts.”

He looks at you with soft eyes. “You never left my mind when I was up there. Never.”

Robb hoots from the sidelines, and Sansa giggles. The Starks had been your rocks while Jon was away, though Robb was often gone, and you love them like siblings. They’ve always been your siblings, in a sense.

“Save some love for me, brother!” Robb calls. Jon looks over with a joking glare before Sansa pulls the other Stark into their family home. She was the wariest of you at first, but she quickly became one of your most trusted confidants. You guess she liked having someone around that she could spill drama to- none of her siblings cared for the latest whos, whats, and wheres.

Jon is still hugging you, but he pulls away just the tiniest bit. “We should go get milkshakes while I’m home. Is Hot Pie’s still open or has it closed down since I’ve been away?”

You narrow your eyes. “It’s still open, but don’t you think you should greet the rest of your family first?” He pauses like he just now realized. He laughs a little heartwarming laugh.

“Yeah, you’re right. Here,” He pulls out his keys, “Just wait in the truck. I’ll be out in a little.”

The ‘little’ was more like half an hour, but you were happy to wait. You realized, in those thirty minutes, something that you should have known years ago. You need to savor life while it lasts, let it melt on your tongue like a chocolate before you’re too old to taste it. You need to savor him while he’s yours. Everything will end someday, and you need to act like it. You set your resolve when you see him speed walking towards his truck. The same one from all those years ago, passed down to him when Robb had gotten something fresher and newer. Jon was never one to waste, so when it was his turn to have it, he fixed it up. It still felt the same, but the air freshener on the rearview mirror was an entirely new scent. 

He got in the driver’s seat, and everything felt familiar. It felt like a wave washing over you, reminding you of all of the memories you have ever had with him. 

There’s a little smile on his face as he turns the keys in the ignition.

“What did you do while I was away? Anything new you didn’t mention in your letters?” He asks. He’s watching the road, and you’re staring at the usual blur of snow and bare trees. 

“Oh, nothing. I just studied a lot and missed you. I made a couple new friends in college, and I definitely missed you. Oh, have I mentioned that I missed you yet?” You tease. His cold heart warms in his chest as he chuckles.

“No, I don’t think you have.” He says, eyes flickering over to you for a minute.

“What were you up to?” 

He shrugs. “I got promoted to lieutenant. I didn’t really want it, but it’s what I had to do. I was also attacked by my own platoon and my heart stopped. Got released from duty after that. I should have just stayed home.”

Your mouth drops open. “And you didn’t mention any of that to me?” He squints at the road.

“I didn’t want you to worry.” He replied simply. What a doofus, always concerned about you when all you want to do is be there for him.

“Well, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But if you do want to, my ears are open.” He laughs at that, and you laugh, and you’re both laughing so hard he almost misses the turn to Hot Pie’s. It’s not that funny, but somehow, it rekindles an old, dying flame.

The rest of the short drive is filled with words spilling from the surface of your skin. You have so much to talk about. Things both of you couldn’t express through letters or texts bubble up, and nothing stops them. You’re breathless by the time you reach the door of the café. 

He opens the door for you, always a gentleman. When you step through the threshold, the familiar smell of sweets and freshly-baked bread wafting through the air, the boy behind the counter gasps.

“Our favorite customers, back again!” It’s Hot Pie himself, now grown and definitely friendlier than he once was. He was lovingly nicknamed after the place he worked a long time ago, and it seemingly stuck to this day. His name tag reads “Hot Pie Jr”. 

You shoot him a smile. “You know we couldn’t stay away for very long.” He nods, satisfied with your answer.

“I guess it’s the usual then. An Oreo milkshake for m’lord, and something special for someone special.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and you snort. He still knows your order. 

When you sit down at your usual booth, you notice a new painting on the wall. It’s a gorgeous landscape featuring the sun setting over a grassy field, one that looks so much like that certain spot in Winterfell it makes you shiver. You wonder if the café’s owners had it commissioned. Jon notices it too, and he gives you a slightly confused look.

“Is that…?”

“I think so.” It’s such a coincidence. There are reminders of your time in the bustling town everywhere. It’s like you can never escape it, and you’re quite sure you don’t want to. “That’s so weird, but I feel like it’s meant to be there.”

He nods in agreement. “Everything feels like it’s meant to be here. Especially you.” He makes no attempt to elaborate, so you gently coax the words he’s choking back out of his mouth.

“What do you mean by that?”

He hesitates. “You just feel like home to me. Being back here, not giving inspiring speeches or training or listening for gunshots and talking to you makes me think I could have a real second chance at life. When I’m with you, nothing else matters.” He looks at you like he expects you to kick him where it hurts. You don’t even consider that for a second.

“I feel the same way.” You offer, giving him a watery smile. The way he words things sounds so poetic it makes your head spin. You can feel tears rushing to your eyes again and the rough patch in your throat flares up, choking you with words unsaid. Something about him makes you emotional in a way you can’t even hope to stop. He lets out a deep sigh and looks even deeper into your eyes.

“I love you.”

You’re a little shocked. He’s not one to express his emotions so openly, but you’re glad your friend feels safe with you. “I love you too.”

“Not in that way. I love you so much it almost hurts. Every minute you’re gone I think about you, and I think about you even when you’re right in front of me. I’ve never loved anyone this deeply.” He confesses. You’ve been waiting for this moment since the moment you met him.

You met when you were both extremely young. His parents invited yours over for a dinner party, and you hit it off so well with the quiet boy that he has been stuck to your side ever since.

You loved him at first sight. From the moment you saw him, you fell head over heels into a never ending spiral of him. Down, down, down the rabbit hole you went, and you don’t regret a single second of pining. Everything has led up to this moment.

He looks so earnest and kind it sends a throb through your heart. He laid his inner workings on the table in front of you, and you can only respond in kind.

“Me too.” His eyes widen significantly, but he lets you continue. “I’ve loved you like that since we were little, before I even really knew what love was. I just saw your little frown and curly black hair and thought ‘yes, he’s the one’.” He smiles at that. “But really, I fell in love with your heart. I fell in love with how you care about other people, especially Arya. I fell in love with your intelligence and sparring prowess and messy handwriting. I love everything about you.” Your words come out in a ramble. You can’t stop yourself, the reasons just keep pouring until there’s nothing left. 

He listens with thirsty ears. When you’re almost out of things to say, he can feel his heart beating just as fast as it did when he told you about his decision to leave. Butterflies are flocking in his stomach, but he leans over the table anyways to capture you in your second ever kiss. His lips are warm, just like how his hands usually are. They’re a little rough, too, but you don’t fault him for it. At the moment, nothing else matters except the fact that your passion is leaking out of every pore on your body.

When you finally break away to suck in greedy gulps of air, the volcano in your heart erupts and sends your mind reeling. 

“Oh my god.” You’re so dazed you can barely function, and he doesn’t look much better. He’s panting a little, and that’s when Hot Pie decides to bring over your drinks.

“I didn’t want to interrupt, but here you are. On the house, lovebirds.” He teases. Jon’s face flushes red, and your cheeks warm so quickly you could rival a stovetop. He leaves you alone after that, and you couldn’t be more grateful.

Jom clears his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” You ask, breathless.

“For not asking to be your boyfriend earlier.” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice, and it makes you laugh.

“Well, you certainly can be. I would appreciate it if you didn’t wait until the day of to announce your next departure, though.” He cringes. 

“Understood.”

It’s a long time before you’re ready to leave Hot Pie’s, but in your eyes, it’s the most meaningful time you’ve ever spent. When you walk out, you walk out hand in hand, and for the first time in a long while, you truly feel alive.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

Taglist: @lovelyliliya @the-jess-life @hopelesswritergall @watercolorskyy @cecespizza01

#mixtape 2: our version 📼 #solar eclipse. #jon snow #jon snow x reader #jon snow imagine #jon snow headcanons #jon snow fanfic #jon snow x you #jon snow x y/n #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones headcanon #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fic #game of thrones fluff #game of thrones x reader #got x reader #got x you #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #asoif #asoif fanfic

[deathbypixelz]

Six or seven years after the burning of Teldrassil, Tyrande and Maiev have yet to return from their hunt for the Banshee Queen. So Cathala, Tarinne, and a few other like-minded individuals decide to take matters into their own hands. They follow what little remains of Sylvanas' trail, investigating abandoned Horde outposts, interrogating Horde separatists, and not-quite-legally digging through old military documents. Ultimately, they discover her trail leads to Northrend, and so they follow. The hunt will be long, harrowing, and neither their quarry nor the endless icy wastes will show mercy. Not all will live to touch warm soil again.

#my art #cathala #tarinne #kolga #(she's the orc in the middle) (she's a druid) #night elf #kaldorei #warcraft #world of warcraft #au lore #this is of course the version of the au where my ocs are part of the hunt #and yes this will be a fic someday #this is yet another deathbypixelz drawing brought to you by Heilung. specifically their song Othan.

[alien-girl-21]

today on posts that are for me and me only but i hope you get my vision, i present to you:

Songs in Spanish I think Käärijä and Joker Out members would like:

Käärijä:

BZRP Music Sessions #51

This song is sooo cunty + the references in the lyrics/rhymes are INSANE, Jere would go so fucking hard with this I don't have proof but I don't have doubts

Kali Uchis, Peso Pluma - Igual Que Un Ángel

Girlypop song, cute beat, the lyrics of the chorus literally being "god's favorite and she knows" (because she is god's favorite). Deffinitely not influenced by me showing pictures of Jere to people irl and them saying he looks like Peso Pluma (he doesn't)

Bojan:

Soda Stereo - De Música Ligera

Tbh all of Joker Out would love this song, it feels very them, but Bojan gives vibes of a Cerati fanboy that would hear you mention Soda Stereo and would ask you to name 3 songs by them and this was probably the first song he learned how to play on the guitar. Very good song, a classic, if you haven't heard this one yet, please do

Romeo Santos - Propuesta Indecente

I'm laughing so hard at myself going from 90s latam rock to bachata but hear me out. Bojan likes to dance, bachata is a genre with a pretty intricate dance that Bojan would learn to surprise girls with at parties. Also bachata just feels very him??? and this song is iconic and it had a pretty popular meme back in the day he would still quote today

Jure:

Cuarteto de Nos - Enamorado tuyo

This is such a good vibes song, makes me happy listening to it, and I feel like Jure also likes these types of songs. Good, chill vibes

Los Enanitos Verdes - Lamento Boliviano

Another classic latam rock song, a general vibe, everyone knows the lyrics. I feel like Jure would really appreciate the drums on this one (also he would do the joke of "bolivian lament? fuck yeah, I would also lament it if I was from there" <- as a bolivian, I get him)

Kris:

Miranda! - Don

Kris is one of the girlies, this song is for the girlies. He would scream the chorus at the top of his lungs and would probably learn the guitar solo just to show off.

Belanova - Rosa Pastel

....... no I'm not giving Kris the songs meant for the girlies whatareyoutalkingabout

But in all seriousness, this song is so perfect for heart breaks/wanting to be angsty but make it pretty that I feel like Kris would have looped this song so much it led him to writing NGVOT, plus just imagine him vibing to it, it fits him so well

Nace:

Luis Miguel - Ahora te puedes marchar

We know Nace likes citypop, now what if I told you that Luismi is considered citypop by some and was pretty big in Japan in the height of citypop??? Yeah

Quevedo - Columbia

Nace would vibe to this at the club so hard, idk he gives the vibes that he would like Quevedo (and not inspired by a jance fic I was intending to write at some point ofc not 😁)

Jan:

Los Prisioneros - Tren Al Sur

Another latam rock classic, the keyboard at the beginning is pretty mysterious, feels pretty Jan coded imo

Natalia Lafourcade - Hasta la Raíz

One of the most beautiful songs I've listened to. I feel like Jan would appreciate the technical aspect of the song more for some reason, probably what he listens to when driving

#i also have a version of this with meme/joke/unserious spanish songs #but idk if you want to be subjected to whatever tf we have going on #anyways i made this instead of doing actually useful stuff (writing a fic AND doing homework so.... yeah) #hope you enjoy the songs listen to some tunes boy #käärijä #joker out #ofc we're maintagging why wouldn't we?

[beechersnope]

Wild Dream Come True

Christian/Max (Past Christian/Seb), 1645 words

Warnings/Tags: major dubcon, grooming, drunk sex, anal gaping, fisting, loss of virginity, possessiveness, power imbalance, age difference, painful sex

***

Seb was twenty-one years old when he won his first race for Red Bull. Max is eighteen.

That matters, somehow, to Christian. He’d thought he would have more time to take Max under his wing, get him used to the idea of warming his bed, break through the hard shell that Jos had built up around his boy to keep him cut off from the pleasures of the world.

It turns out not to matter. One purposeful touch from Christian—a hand on the inside of Max’s thigh under the table at the team dinner, nice and public so he won’t make a scene—is all it takes to crack him like an egg.

Max is hard almost immediately. But Christian makes him wait. And after, when he has a half-drunk Max alone in his hotel room: Christian makes it worth it.

“Have you ever done this before?” Christian asks as Max lies on the bed, staring up at him blearily as Christian takes his time peeling Max out of his sweaty clothes.

Seb had never known the touch of a man before Christian had taken him that night in Shanghai. He’d been tight, but had acclimated surprisingly quickly to the feeling of a hard cock inside him, giving back just as good as he’d gotten by the end. Christian doesn’t think Max will do the same.

“No,” Max says, shaking his head slowly as a blush creeps down his face, deepening the already bright pink spots on his cheeks. “Never, I’ve—I haven’t. With anyone.”

Those words course through Christian like an electric current. It’s all he can do to keep himself from tearing off the rest of Max’s clothes and fucking into him right then and there. That isn’t what Christian has planned for him—at least not yet.

“Oh, my darling boy,” Christian says as he reaches up to cradle Max’s cheek, soft and gentle.

Max leans into the touch, always so eager for everything. Wins. Approval. Love.

Christian can give him all three.

“Get on your tummy for me?” Christian prompts once he has Max naked and spread out in front of him, his thighs loose and open revealing a half-hard cock already leaking precome, so wet already that Max must have been aching in his jeans for hours. “It’ll be easier that way.”

He doesn’t tell Max what he intends to do. He doesn’t want to give him the opportunity to say no.

With Seb, Christian had made mistakes. He’d sucked Seb off first, fingered him open sweetly, and then made him come again on Christian’s cock while Seb rode him, letting Seb control the pace, the force, the depth. Seb had learnt what he liked from the encounter—and what he didn’t. They never slept together again in all that time that Seb was with Red Bull, even while rumors reached Christian’s ears that Seb was slutting it up with nearly half the grid by the end.

So no, Christian isn’t going to make Max come before he opens him up. He doesn’t even really care if Max comes at all. That isn’t what this is about. Pleasure was never the point.

Max—sweet, obedient, and a virgin—rolls onto his stomach without complaint. He drags his cock against the sheets, leaving it hanging down between his legs instead of tucking it against his stomach. Maybe he thinks that’ll tempt Christian into touching him. Or maybe it’s just that Max doesn’t realize he won’t even be able to hump the bed like that, won’t be able to get the friction he really needs when it matters the most.

Good, Christian thinks to himself before turning around to get the lube.

Christian isn’t stingy about slicking himself up. Not that it matters. Christian could use the whole bottle and Max still wouldn’t be able to sit down the next day. Might not even be able to walk. It’ll make the plane home hell, and his next race might even suffer as a result, but it’ll be worth the temporary loss in points over the long term.

Christian knows when he has a champion in the making. He might have fucked it all up with Sebastian, but this time, he’s not about to let Max slip out of his grasp.

“It’ll hurt,” Christian tells Max. “Did you clean yourself like I asked?” He’d sent Max up to the hotel room first; given him detailed instructions for what he needed to do with the items he’d left in the bathroom.

Max nods against the pillow, leaving a spit-damp mark against the fabric.

“Good boy,” Christian says, smoothing his left hand against the small of Max’s back. He’s slender now, still very much a teenager, but Christian can already tell he’ll grow into his body, put on weight he won’t be able to cut like the others—fit, muscular, but with softness clinging to his chest, his thighs, his hips.

Christian wants that. He wants to insure that even a Max in his prime will still be lying in Christian’s bed with his legs spread. Open, loose-limbed, hard and wanting. Ripe for the taking.

Max allows the first finger inside him with little protest. He barely reacts, the wine dulling his senses, slowing his reflexes. It’s not enough, yet, to hurt.

The second garners a muffled sound of protest. Christian keeps going, fucking into Max slow and steady with two fingers for as long as he can stand it, waiting until Max settles down again before pulling out entirely to press in a third.

“Hurts,” Max finally says, and Christian can see that between his legs, Max isn’t hard anymore.

“It’s all right,” Christian tells him. “You’re doing so well for me. Just relax.”

Christian can tell that Max is trying hard not to cry. He feels prouder than he’s ever been. The way Max is letting him inside despite everything in his body rebelling against it feels even better than the win.

Christian waits until Max is hard again before really starting to fuck Max with his fingers, digging in deep with Max shuddering around him, pulling at the rim of his hole until his body finally gives up, stops fighting back. Then Christian squeezes in his pinky, and Max screams.

“You can take it, darling. I know you can.”

Christian doesn’t pull his fingers out even as Max writhes underneath him, too overwhelmed to really get away from what Christian is doing. Christian is happy he didn’t have to tie Max up for it, glad that he’d been right all along about what his darling boy could handle. He is doing well, better than Seb would have done if their positions were reversed, and maybe that was the real reason that things had never worked out the way Christian had hoped.

Max is perfect. And Max is his.

“Just a little more,” Christian tells Max with a soothing hand running across his back. “You’re almost there.”

Max’s rim stretches wide around the breadth of Christian’s fingers, white where the pressure has temporarily forced the blood out of the capillaries, swollen and red everywhere else. Christian can feel Max trying to force him out, but he fucks him through it, waiting until Max finally stops squirming before resting a hand firmly against the center of Max’s back so he can’t shy away from what he really needs.

“Deep breath, love,” Christian whispers. He waits for Max’s ribs to expand under his hand before pressing down hard, pinning him to the bed as he folds in his thumb and pushes.

The sound that emerges from Max’s mouth as Christian’s hand slides inside him to the wrist isn’t human.

The breath gets sucked out of both of them. Christian’s mouth goes dry as he realizes what he’s accomplished. Max, who has never been touched before this by anyone, has now been irrevocably transformed. The memory of the first time he’s ever been fucked will always be this: Christian’s fist inside him, stretching him open, remaking him anew.

It doesn’t matter now who Max takes to bed in the coming years. It will all be a pale imitation of what Christian did first. Even if this is what Max decides he wants from someone else, it’ll only be because Christian is the one who taught him to want it.

“Can you feel how well you’re taking me?” Christian asks, voice full of wonder.

Max tries to answer, but the garbled noise that comes out doesn’t resemble either English or Dutch.

Christian feels like Icarus as he carefully makes an attempt to press in even deeper. He stops when Max jerks hard against the mattress, almost dry heaving against the pillow. Christian doesn’t want to break him. Not entirely.

This isn’t about ruining Max. This is about reshaping him.

When Christian finally pulls out and sees the gaping void he’s created, it feels like another victory. He presses his fingers along the edges of Max’s hole, treasuring every muted whimper as he strips his own cock fast and hard. He has to make this official, after all.

Christian comes with all the force of a popped bottle of champagne, painting Max’s insides white and watching it drip down inside him, where it belongs.

He climbs in bed after, cradling Max’s tear-stained face against his chest and stroking his soft blonde hair until finally, Max drifts into a blessed unconsciousness, free for now from the ache between his legs that Christian had bestowed upon him like a sacred gift.

Christian waits until Max’s breathing slows, deepens, before reaching down again to press four fingers into Max’s hole. He’s pleased to find it still wide and gaping, the muscles fluttering weakly against the strength of his hand, unable to resist when Christian tugs experimentally, wondering just how long he can keep Max like this.

Perfect. Open. His. Forever.

#hornstappen #f1 smut #f1 rpf #my fic #title is from jambi by tool which is one of the most fitting songs i have ever used for a fic title #link goes to the version on ao3 if you want to kudos or bookmark #we are experimenting with different posting formats!

[maulfucker]

This song is making me want to start yet another fic to never finish,, "Tell me... Where is your hideout? Who are we running from? I'm starting to think that you were right, and now I'm afraid of letting go of your hand...." Maul giving up on his Mandalore plan and deciding to just stalk Kenobi to tell him about his vision. Staying illegally in Obi-Wan's room because I love putting these guys in situations (and because Maul would NOT leave him alone until Obi-Wan actually accepted Maul is right, which he won't). Following Obi-Wan to Utapau and helping him escape after the clones attack, feeling equal parts vindicated and enraged (because he was proved right but Sidious still won). Them being on the run together....

#hm i should make an original post tag #maul #obi-wan #obimaul #<- probably but not necessarily. i can write non shipping fics i swear. #song is jamoga by selvagens à procura de lei #i love the original version but the acoustic version with roberta campos is also really really good #that part up there is the chorus and not the only part that's giving me fic vibes but it's the best example #''we were two winding roads seeking each other through separate ways... i thought you had blamed me‚ but no one had trapped me.. #you were the only one I could call the only one‚ and yet.. i stopped calling your name....'' #<- part that also makes me Think #back to story ideas i am also thinking about maul faking padmé's death on mustafar (with magick. because it's fun) #and padmé moving in with the larses. pretending to be beru's sister. raising luke there‚ both of them in hiding. #she would enjoy the simple life. it reminds her of her youth in naboo‚ before she became queen. #[... meanwhile maul and obi-wan are fighting for their lives] #i am a huge sucker for enemies to friends (to lovers) with these two #and i think having to live together in a small ship and shitty space hotel rooms would be great for bonding (joke) #(but i'm still shoving them in there) #what's more fun than roaming the galaxy with your worstie because you're both hiding from the government #bickering the entire time because you still lowkey want to kill each other

[stolenslumber]

hang your head low in the glow (pjs)

In this moment, you’re glad that you’re anchored in his lap, because otherwise you think you might float away into the night sky, on your way to join the stars in the cosmos. Jay is so crushingly sweet; sometimes, you just don’t know what to do with the weight of all his sincerity. For now, you settle for a fervent, “I like you so much.”

OR: A selection of moments in between the parentheses at the end of devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes (some things may not make sense without reading that first, but it's up to you!).

PAIRING: park jongseong x female reader GENRE: established relationship, fwp (fluff without plot), no like seriously this is just straight up fluff and romance and making out with scant narrative WARNINGS: swearing, kms/kys jokes, kissing and suggestive content/sexual themes WORD COUNT: 10k (derogatory)

to all the boys i’ve fake-dated before (you, jay, sunghoon, yeonjun, chan, vernon, mark, and 5 others)

jay: peace out losers (except for my REAL gf whom i adore and cherish)

*jay has left the chat*

sunghoon: omfg no way???? jay bitchless era no more?

you: are u calling me a bitch

sunghoon: NOOOO i would never haha btw do u still talk to my sister

you: yeah

sunghoon: right so i’m just ur humble liege

chan: congrats, you two! well i guess jay can’t see this

you: i will accept your congratulations on his behalf :DD i’m really happy you guys 

mark: stop i’ll cry

vernon: no rly i’m next to him rn and he’s tearing up

mark: they deserve it so much!!! after everything i put them through 

you: excuse me it was mostly me

you: all jay did was orchestrate an elaborate scheme to get you and mina together (okay so he did a lot)

you: but we ALL participated

you: and i had to pretend to DATE you

mark: only for like two hours!!!!

yeonjun: wait this reminds me i’ve always wanted to know what ur ranking of us as fake bfs would be

you: in first place: park jongseong

yeonjun: and then?

yeonjun: hello??????

“Can I ask you something?”

Jay turns his head to you. “Of course, baby.”

Baby. Hearing it still makes you all silly and giddy, though it’s been four days since you started dating him for real and hearing it all the time. Baby, doll, Cinderella, mine. He sure has a way with words. You clear your throat, hoping that your voice won’t crack when you say, “Why were you so weird about the fake-dating thing in the beginning?”

He makes a face at you. “What do you mean, weird? You’re telling me you thought I was weird about it, even after you had to endure Sunghoon?”

“Sunghoon was just awkward. Really awkward, but still. You stalked me to my front door—”

“Your front door is, like, 90 seconds from mine.”

“— and walked with me to Nat’s at a glacial pace, while not saying a word. And then we talked for an hour about random stuff before you promised to help Mark with Mina, even though you weren’t sure you wanted my help. Why were you so weird about it all?”

“Pretty girls make me nervous?” He offers you a winning smile.

“Flattery won’t get you everywhere, Park Jongseong.”

“Yeah, but it’s getting me somewhere, isn’t it?” He rolls all the way over to hover above you and then dips so low that the pendant on his necklace swings in front of your face. The two of you had escaped the party in the frat’s basement after it had gotten too hot down there; Jay said he “knew a spot”, which made you laugh when it turned out to just be his bedroom. But then he pushed open his window and coaxed you out onto the flat roof, and that’s where you had settled on your back, gazing up at a cloudless sky, scattershot through with faint stars. 

Well, you were gazing up at the stars— now, Jay occupies your line of sight, and he’s all smiles and hearts in his eyes. It’s not an unwelcome substitute.

Your hand slips between your bodies so you can rub your fingers over the pendant on his necklace; you laugh when you realize what it is. “J as in Jay? Like T as in Troy?” 

He huffs, rolling off of you to sit back on his heels. “No, J as in Jopping. Yes, J as in Jay!”

You hold your hands up, still laughing as you sit up to face him. “Okay, okay, sorry! Didn’t realize my boyfriend was also a preppy high school girl.”

He rolls his eyes even as he pulls you into his lap. These days, he’s hopelessly afflicted with must-be-close-to-my-girlfriend syndrome. “I have layers, Cinderella. Like an onion.”

“... Are you paraphrasing Shrek?”

Jay flicks at the tip of your nose. “You know, it reveals just as much about you as it does about me that you caught the reference.” 

“You’re not helping yourself in the high school girl category,” you tease, but it’s all syrupy sweet fondness, punctuated by a playful tug at his reddening ear. 

He turns his head to kiss the inside of your wrist. “Do you want to hear my answer or not?”

You nod and straighten your spine with your hands folded neatly against your chest; the picture of propriety, if it weren’t for your legs straddling his waist as he leans back on his hands. “Yes, please.”

“I was… sussing you out, I guess. You know why I wanted to bring someone to my parents, but I couldn’t just bring anyone. I wanted to get to know you a little better, to see if you were someone I could actually see myself wanting to be with, because anything less would be a disservice to my parents. I didn’t want your help if I couldn’t confirm that you were the real thing. And then I saw how patient but also no-nonsense you were with Mark, and how quickly you were willing to help with a frankly crazy plan, and you just… felt right. You felt right to me; you felt like the real thing.” Jay blushes, ducking his head to avoid your gaze. Everything he said is true, of course, and he doesn’t regret telling you any of it, but saying it out loud like this makes his heart feel like it’s going to fall out of his chest.

In this moment, you’re glad that you’re anchored in his lap, because otherwise you think you might float away into the night sky, on your way to join the stars in the cosmos. Jay is so crushingly sweet; sometimes, you just don’t know what to do with the weight of all his sincerity. For now, you settle for a fervent, “I like you so much.”

Jay’s confidence comes back like a boomerang. He leans up and catches your hands in his, draping your arms around his neck before gliding his hands up and down your back. “Who’s flattering who, now?” 

You shrug. “Where’s it gonna get me, gorgeous?”

“Well, only because you called me gorgeous.” And then he’s kissing you, lush and lovely. 

Fall trickles into winter, and there are final exams and goodbyes to your friends before you and Jake leave on a two-week trip to see your family in Australia. You and Jay FaceTime almost every day; he complains about getting pasty staying indoors in the cold while you’re out tanning on white sand beaches. 

“Should I fly out there?” he muses one day close to the end of your trip. “You could be, I dunno, in danger! Because of the sun. No one to help you put sunscreen on your back… or check that you’ve applied enough on your legs… or your chest… It’s really important, you know. Skin cancer awareness.”

You laugh. “Thanks for the PSA, baby. I’m coming back in a few days, though, so I think I’ll be okay.”

Jay sighs mournfully. “I’m not. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” you confess. Living across the street from each other at school and seeing him in person almost every day for the past few months has spoiled you. 

“I miss you, too,” Jake mimics beside you. You’re in an Uber on the way to dinner with your parents, so you can’t commit much physical violence against him, but you do punch his shoulder.

Jay pipes up with, “Was that Jake’s voice I heard?”

You glare at your twin before popping out your earbuds to put the call on speakerphone. “Unfortunately.”

“Yo, what’s up, my man!” Jake cheers, shoving his face into view of the camera.

Jay and Jake chatter about some game they started playing with Heeseung, and you have to admit that you’re really happy about how well you and Jay have integrated into each other’s lives and communities. Of course, Jake had never been a big concern; secretly, you think he loves that his best friend is dating his sister. You’re two of his favorite people in the world, though he’ll only admit it when he’s four shots in. 

Soon, you approach the restaurant, and you have to say goodbye to Jay. He encourages you to keep sending videos of Jake falling into the ocean while surfing, which prompts a loud bout of complaining from Jake.

“You better not have shown that to anyone else,” Jake grumbles.

“Yunjin loved it,” you remark casually, just so you can laugh loudly when he jolts in his seat and turns to you with panicked eyes.

He whisper-shouts, “Why would you say that word? And why the fuck would you send it to her?” 

“What word— love? Oh my god, grow up. And she asked for updates on you.” Your eyebrows furrow. “I think she missed you, or something.”

“She did?” Jake beams; he’s entirely a different man now. “What else did she say about me?”

You point at him accusingly. “You have a lot of questions for someone who claims that they’re just buddies with my girl Jen. Which, again— grow up. Anyways, Jay, we have to go, but we’ll see you soon! Love you!”

“Love you, baby. And you, too, Jake,” Jay adds, before Jake can whine. 

A few days later, you’re finally reunited with Jay at the big New Year’s Eve party his family throws every year. The Parks always get to host the last party of the holiday season; you’re excited to experience it with Jay for the first time. 

An hour before the party is set to start, you let yourself into the Park estate and make your way surreptitiously to Jay’s room. His back is turned to you when you open the door slowly, and you stop for a moment to just drink in the sight of him, comfy and cozy in a cable-knit quarter zip sweater— the definition of huggable. Quickly, you sneak in and wrap your arms around his waist. “Hey, handsome.”

Jay cranes his neck around to look at you. “Hey! You’re here early.” 

You let go of him so he can turn around and hug you back properly. “Couldn’t wait to see you,” you confess. 

“Thank god.” He drops his head into the crook of your neck and inhales deeply. “Mm, the world is finally rightside up again.”

You laugh softly. “We are so dramatic.”

“Unavoidable for hot people,” Jay reasons. He pulls back up to wink at you; it’s so cheesy that you have to hold your hands up to his face to avoid looking at him. He laughs outright, and the return of that sound so close to your ears— as opposed to through the phone across an ocean— makes you smile uncontrollably wide.

“I really missed you,” you murmur. Finally, finally, he leans in and kisses you. It starts as something innocent and comforting, then quickly gets subsumed into fire and passion. You fist your hands into the collar of his sweater, hauling him closer to you with an enthusiasm that makes his fingers dig into your waist.

“Missed you so much. Missed this so much,” he says, right before sliding his tongue against yours. Soon, he transitions to sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, breathing a litany of love you, love you, love yous into you. The kiss is so deep it makes you go lightheaded, and when you separate for air, the sound of your mouth parting from his elicits a faint pop that makes you shudder. He’s considerate enough to back off briefly for you to catch your breath, though he doesn’t make it easy. “Pretty, so pretty,” he whispers against your cheek.

You have to close your eyes to calm yourself down. Right now, you think you could power a whole city with the desire that vibrates underneath your skin. “As much as I want to keep going,” you begin, already doomed with how hoarse your voice is, “I think you have to start getting ready.” The way your fingers pull at the zipper of his sweater is wholly unconvincing. 

He sighs and straightens up to rest his chin on the top of your head. “I should really learn how to reconfigure the time-space continuum. Time needs to stop when I’ve got my girl with me.”

You hum in agreement, curving around him slightly to scrape your teeth over the birthmark on his neck and grinning when he hisses into your ear. “You’re a smart guy; I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” you offer, continuing to tug at his zipper until you’re met with the end of the quarter zip. A frustrated sound escapes your throat at the obstacle.

“What’s your new year’s resolution?” Jay asks suddenly.

“What?” You blink hazy eyes at him; he has to pinch his own wrist behind your back to fight the urge to kiss you again.

“Just trying to kill the mood so I don’t go out there with a hard-on,” he explains, half bashful and half serious. “I have to make a speech, you know.”

“Thanks for coming, everyone! Hope you had a great last year, and here’s to an even better new year. There, speech done.” You withdraw your hands from his sweater to make jazz hands at him. “Wow, I’m such a speedy speechwriter! With all this extra time, we should keep going.”

“Brilliant,” he says dryly. “But you were right before; I do have to get ready.”

You frown and rest your cheek against his chest. “Past me was such a cockblock.”

Jay chuckles. “So, tell me, what is your new year’s resolution?”

Your eyes drift to the offending sweater in your peripheral vision. “Throw out all of your sweaters.”

“Very noble of you.”

“And get into grad school,” you say, more serious now.

“They’d be crazy not to take you for the Rhodes, baby.” Jay presses a final kiss to the top of your head. “I, um. I already asked to start in the London office of the company.”

You whip your head up so fast you almost give yourself whiplash. “Really?”

“Really. I want to be wherever you are.” He smiles so tenderly at you that your heart breaks and then mends itself back together in an instant; shattered and restored all at once by the strength of his devotion.

Sadly, there’s only so much time you can spend swooning at your boyfriend (Jay’s right; you do have to learn how to reconfigure the time-space continuum). He truly does have to give a speech soon, so he starts getting changed, pulling his sweater over his head and swearing when it gets stuck on the wire frame of his glasses. 

You laugh a little breathlessly at him, distracted by the strip of toned stomach revealed by his current position with his arms stuck above his head in his sweater. “My last new year’s resolution is to close the gyms,” you announce, finally moving into action to help him unspool the yarn of his sweater from his glasses.

“All of them?” His voice comes out muffled from inside his sweater before it’s over his head at last, and he’s shirtless in front of you. 

You drag your fingertips from the top of his waistband to the warm skin of his sternum. “Especially the ones you go to. You’re too tempting like this.”

He shivers at your touch but still manages to smirk when he says, “Just for you, doll.”

You groan. “Seriously, don’t call me that if you want to make it out there in time for your speech.”

“We should get rid of speeches, too,” he declares. He eyes the top of your fingers against his chest forlornly. “But I guess I’ll have to give the last one. Now, for real, tell me something extremely unsexy.”

You quip, “To help you get flaccid?”

He wrinkles his nose. “Excellent work; we’re headed in the right direction.” 

Your phone vibrates with a barrage of texts at that moment, which you check as Jay disappears into his walk-in closet to get dressed. It looks like your friends have arrived, and they’ve brought your outfit with them (you had come straight from the airport, dressed in leggings and a sweatshirt from high school). You tell Jay just as much, raising your voice slightly to be heard in the other room. “I’m gonna go get my stuff and change!”

He sticks his thumb out the door of the walk-in closet, pointing it upwards in assent. He assumes you saw it when he hears the door close, and then his phone goes off as well, inundated with a flood of texts from his newly arrived friends. 

hsm 3’s most underrated song: the boys are back (heeseung, jay, jake, sunghoon, jungwon, and sunoo)

jake: alright i have to k*ll myself

sunoo: why r u censoring all of a sudden

jake: i don’t want my fbi agent to take that seriously. although i do wanna kms

jungwon: why what happened

sunghoon: oh it’s HILARIOUS

jake: stfu

jake: so there’s eggnog being passed around right? and i see yunjin so i go to hand her a cup to be nice

heeseung: ~to be nice~

jake: kys

jake: anyways then i realize that the cup was really hot so i go and blow on her drink, like a fucking weirdo, and then i blow on SUNGHOON’S drink to make it seem less weird, except he’s drinking a HIGH NOON like an absolute idiot

sunghoon: hey i got the bartender to put it into a nice glass at least

sunoo: that’s my big (derogatory)

jay: perpetual bachelors jake and sunghoon! who’s surprised

sunghoon: NOT true i’m pretty sure the student government’s social media chair was flirting with me in the library before finals

jungwon: ??? wonyoung is a lesbian

jungwon: and she was just asking u to get out of the way bc u were spacing out in front of the printer

heeseung: L + me personally i’d kms

sunghoon: oh i know YOU are not talking

sunghoon: lee “the only time i feel the touch of a woman is when i go to yoga class at the university gym once a week” heeseung

heeseung: THE WOMAN WHO TEACHES IT IS HOT OKAY

sunghoon: oh heeseung mommy kink era?

heeseung: SHE IS MY AGE

sunoo: shouldn’t u be more concerned about breaking ur back every time ur there, grandpa?

heeseung: uncalled for wtf

heeseung: also tbh i wish SHE would break my back

jake: okay i’ve recovered from my earlier embarrassment. upon seeing what heeseung is texting, i’m thinking what i did wasn’t that weird

sunoo: bffr

jungwon: jake why don’t u just ask her out? instead of being emotionally constipated

jake: ew why would i ask her out i don’t want to be in a relationship that’s for pussies (respectfully) (i love women)

jungwon: yeah that’s definitely super emotionally mature of u

sunghoon: it’s 2023 pussy is a gender-neutral term

jay: you rly just say whatever the hell you want don’t you

sunoo: oh hey i see felix flirting with yunjin

jake: WHAT

jake: suddenly i have to go

sunoo: u r literally so pathetic

jay: btw i’m coming down now but if any of you see my gf before i do can you tell her she can change in my room

jake: gross

jay: GROW UP + stay single + kys

heeseung: GET HIS ASS

Jay’s idiot friends aside (he loves them so much), he actually is looking forward to seeing a bunch of his classmates and their families at tonight’s holiday party. Senior year seems to have crept up on him unannounced, and now he’s feeling slightly (a lot) sentimental about the idea of not living down the hall or at most across the campus from all the people who have made the last few years so formative (and entertaining as hell). 

He’s still thinking about how much he’s going to miss that place and those people when he hears your voice floating down from the top of the staircase. It sounds like you’re arguing with Kazuha about how many jello shots is too many for the after-party of the next phase of new member initiation at your sorority, which makes him chuckle quietly to himself. With four humanities and fine arts majors between the two of you, neither of you sound like you have the correct math. 

He opens his mouth, ready to give his two cents, but then he freezes at the sight of you descending the stairs. Vaguely, he processes the fact that Kazuha seems to have stopped arguing and even stopped coming down the stairs herself, just so she can give you two this moment.

This moment, which is making his brain short-circuit, because you are incandescent in a slinky, silvery dress that reflects all the candles that he’s now glad his parents made him light around the place. Countless points of light impart an otherworldly glow upon you, and you’re smiling at him; Jay thinks he must have saved the country in a past life.

When you reach him at the bottom of the stairs and he still hasn’t said anything, you tilt your head quizzically. “Jay? Everything alright?”

“You look like you just stepped out of a fairytale,” he breathes out. He moves on autopilot, bending at the waist as he takes your hand and kisses the top of it before straightening up to simply look at you some more.

“And right into the arms of my Prince Charming,” you respond, only half-joking. Right now, the dreamy look in his eyes makes you want to believe in happily ever after, as if it’s something he could forge with his own two hands. You kind of think he could, with the force of all his ardor.

Multiple phone cameras going off breaks the two of you out of your spell; you turn towards your nosy friends, who hold up variations of thumbs-ups and finger hearts. 

“Sorry, you guys are just too cute,” Yunjin says, not sounding sorry at all.

“Your parents would never forgive me if I didn’t get that on camera,” Sunghoon insists.

“Speaking of, I gotta go find them to make sure everything’s set.” Jay kisses your cheek. “See you later, Cinderella.” His fingers hold onto yours until the last second; your arm and his stretch out absurdly, as if you were parting for years, not minutes. 

“So dramatic,” Kazuha teases, joining you at the bottom of the staircase. 

“Unavoidable for hot people,” you explain wryly. You turn your attention to your gathered friends next. “I’m so glad you’re all here!”

“In 50 years, you could be hosting this party,” Sakura quips. Secretly, you hope it’s a lot sooner than that. 

“New Year’s Eve on Mars?” Jake suggests. 

Heeseung groans. “I’m scared of heights; can we not?”

“How many times do I have to tell you, dude, that’s not how space works!”

Half an hour passes happily like that, chatting and joking with some of your favorite people in the massive foyer. You don’t know exactly where Jay went off to, but the answer to that becomes clear when the music goes low and Jay clears his throat into the microphone set up at the front of the foyer. 

“Thanks for coming, everyone! Hope you had a great last year, and here’s to an even better new year.” Jay pauses to chuckle. “My girlfriend and I were joking earlier about me just saying that and calling it a night, but unfortunately for all of you, I am much more verbose than that.” Another pause for a light round of laughter from the gathered crowd. 

Jay works the audience like a pro as you watch with unbridled pride. A few minutes later, he winds down to the end of his prepared remarks, which you only know because he has asked you to proofread the speech weeks ago. You’re expecting him to wrap up with a final Happy New Year!, so you’re surprised to hear him keep going. 

“A couple of last things. To my parents, and everyone at the company, thank you for putting your trust in me.” Jay bows deeply. “I won’t let you down next year.” He straightens and looks right at you. “This year has been nothing short of wonderful. I’ve been so lucky my whole life, but the last few months have been particularly special to me. I’ve gotten to know people who I want to continue knowing for the rest of my life, who make me feel like my heart is too big for me, because I couldn’t possibly fit all of the kindness and love they give to me in the confines of my chest. I don’t know what I did to deserve it, but I do know that my life would be bereft without it.” Jay has to tear his eyes from yours because he knows he’s liable to cry if he sees you do so. “Bereft without you,” he continues, sweeping his gaze across the foyer. “All of you, who I’m so glad to call my friends and family. So, please stay healthy and happy this year, and I hope the new year treats you as well as this year has treated me. Happy New Year, everyone!”

Champagne glasses clink around you and people applaud, but all of it sounds far away. The only thing you can focus on is Jay, who’s making his way slowly through the throng of well-wishers to get to you.

When he’s finally in front of you, you have your misty eyes under control. He drops his hands to your waist and smiles gently. “Hi, pretty lady.”

“Hello, my favorite hopeless romantic.” Your palm goes to the sharp curve of his jaw. “You just had to go and say such sweet things. What’s gonna happen to my cool and unbothered reputation?”

“Right, your reputation.” He leans into your touch. “I can think of other ways to ruin your reputation,” he remarks, low and rough.

You roll your eyes, although you can’t stop your other hand from curling into the lapel of his suit jacket. “Romantic and horny! Duality of man.” 

“I meant what I said, you know.” His eyes soften at you. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me this year. Maybe ever. I have a lot of great people in my life, but only one you.”

“I know. You always mean what you say, and I love that about you.” You lean in to press a quick kiss to his mouth. He chases after you, tipping your chin up with his hand to kiss you deeper. Sadly, it doesn’t last for too long; you’re both aware that your friends and their parents are nearby.

But later, Jay makes sure to kiss you from this year into the next one, and you hope that you never forget what it feels like— fireworks exploding above your head and in your veins, lighting you up from within. Radiant, in the glow of someone who loves and is loved.

girlbossing soooooooo close to the sun (you, yunjin, chaewon, kazuha, and sakura)

yunjin: do u think it’d be weird if i got jake something for valentine’s day

you: yes extremely

sakura: don’t ask me i’m gay

yunjin: ???

yunjin: okay thx guys this was super helpful!

chaewon: i thought you weren’t dating?

yunjin: WE MIGHT AS WELL BE. i’m sick of waiting for him to actually ask me out

you: jokes aside, i think he’s really into you, like genuinely. but his head is so far up his ass he will never make the first move

sakura: boooooo emotionally repressed playboy how cliche

kazuha: omg u should try to do something romantic

yunjin: absolutely not i can’t be a SIMP

sakura: boooooo emotionally repressed maneater how cliche

yunjin: WHATEVER

yunjin: more importantly, what are we doing for galentine’s!!!!

kazuha: spa day i thought?

you: yes but i have to leave a little early :(( sorry ladies the community kitchen is doing a pre-valentine’s day dinner and jay and i are signed up to help

chaewon: i can’t even be mad at you that is SO CUTE

Jay gets sick in the week leading up to Valentine’s day, which puts a spanner in the works of his grand plans for your first Valentine’s together. You tell him that it’s not a big deal and he should just focus on resting and getting better, but that doesn’t stop him from moping about it. 

mother is mothering (you, niki, and jungwon)

you: can i just say that this gc name is not helping to put to rest the joke that jay and i are ur parents

you: also i Don’t think u guys know what this phrase means…

you: but anyways what’s up… children

niki: pleaseeeeee fix jay hyung

jungwon: fr we’re desperate

jungwon: he’s been playing sad john mayer songs for like three days straight I CANT LIVE LIKE THIS ANYMORE

niki: he called the coffee shop yesterday to see if we could set up a valentine’s day surprise for u

niki: we can’t, so i’m not ruining the surprise

niki: but he literally had such detailed plans for the surprise like WE R JUST PART-TIMERS

you: omg… my bf is so cute :(

jungwon: that is SO not the point actually that’s like the exact opposite of the point

you: dw i was gonna come over today after the community kitchen’s pre-valentine’s day dinner anyways

jungwon: THANK GOD

niki: YAY can u ask jay to help me with research material for my history paper btw

you: ask him urself?

niki: i’m scared he’s going to rope me into some other crazy plan to make it up to u for ruining ur valentine’s day plans

niki: which sounds like a HIM problem??? why is he getting ME, a CHILD, involved

you: oh so ur a child now but not when u want to sneak into frat parties

jungwon: omg SAY IT LOUDER FOR THE PPL IN THE BACK

you: jungwon i know ur the one who helps him sneak in

jungwon: haha. love u mom :)

you: IM NOT UR MOM

you: btw i’m bringing back extra vegetables from the community kitchen and i expect u to eat them! jay mentioned u were stressed lately and not eating well

jungwon: okay ty… not-mom

It’s almost 10pm by the time you get to the frat house, bundled in your winter coat and weighed down with containers of food. You leave one in the fridge, labeled with a note that says “for jungwon— eat this or niki will forever be taller than you”. You take everything else with you to Jay’s room, pausing at the door when you realize you don’t even know if he’ll be awake or if he’s still sleeping off his illness.

The door swings open before you have the chance to knock, and you’re met with the sight of Jay in a bathrobe, shower caddy in hand. “I must be hallucinating,” he mutters. 

You hold back a laugh. “Nope, you’re still in the land of the lucid. I brought you some food, and I figured we could watch something while we eat. Go shower; I’ll set up.” 

Jay blinks rapidly. “Oh my god, you’re really here?” He drops the shower caddy to the floor carelessly, moving forward to hug you before he halts abruptly, inches away from you. “Wait, no, you shouldn’t be here. I don’t want you to get sick, too.”

“It’s been, like, five days. I don’t think you’re contagious anymore,” you argue, sidling past him to drop your stuff into his room.

“Really?” The hopefulness in his voice makes your heart melt.

“Really. I’ll ask Heeseung to ask his special friend to confirm, if that will make you feel better,” you offer.

Jay's eyebrows furrow. “We should probably stop calling her that, but yes, that would make me feel better. Ask while I shower, but seriously, I’m not touching you if she says no.” 

You salute him. “On it, captain.” Heeseung’s special friend is the girl who teaches one of the yoga classes at the university gym, and she’s also a nursing student. She has a name, but Heeseung refuses to tell any of you what it is. Truthfully, it wouldn’t be hard to look her up, but you think it’s kind of cute how nervous Heeseung is about whatever liminal space he’s in with her.

you: hey can u ask the love of ur life if it’s okay for me to be with jay rn?

heeseung: first of all DONT CALL HER THAT second of all why tf would she have an opinion on that

you: i wouldn’t have to call her that if u would tell us HER NAME

you: and jay came down w/ that nasty virus like five days ago remember

heeseung: oh my goddddd yeah he wouldn’t stop whining about how his valentine’s day plans were ruined

you: ur special friend is in nursing right? so can u ask her

heeseung: i’m starting to think i should tell u her name just so u stop coming up with new ways to refer to her

you: that’s what I'M saying

heeseung: but yeah sure anything to get jay to stop being so annoying

you: thank uuuuu i’ll leave u some cookies in the kitchen so give some to her okay?

heeseung: omfg u made COOKIES i am so glad jay is dating u

Ten minutes later, Heeseung texts to let you know that you’re probably in the clear. More specifically, he says that his friend says it’s ultimately best practice to stay away from Jay for another couple of days, but she thinks the two of you are so cute and she gets why you’d want to be with him, and you’re outside of the most contagious window now, anyways. 

You figure that’s close enough to a yes, which is what you tell Jay when he returns from his shower. He’s at your side in an instant, hugging you like his life depends on it. “I’m sorry,” he whispers eventually.

“What on earth for?” 

“Our first Valentine’s is going to be so lame, just because I got sick.” He sighs deeply. “I wanted to make it special for you, especially because you’re always running around helping everyone, and instead you’re here, taking care of me.”

“Jay.” You pull back from his chest to look at him. “Nothing is lame, and nothing is ruined, okay? It’s literally just a day. And you always make me feel special. Being with you is like— ahem.” You cringe at the words that are about to come out of your mouth; Jay is always effusive and free-wheeling with his declarations of affection towards you, but it doesn’t come as easily to you. The way you feel about him makes you want to try, though. “Being with you is like Valentine’s Day every day.”

He smiles gently at you, one dimple carving a crescent into his left cheek. “You deserve it, baby. And even if you didn’t, I’d still want to give that to you.”

The two of you stand like that for a while, swaying underneath the unattractive lighting in Jay’s room. His hair starts to drip onto your shoulder, though, and you remember that you need to go back down to the kitchen to set aside the cookies you promised Heeseung.

“Why does Heeseung get to have some of the cookies you made for me?” Jay pouts.

“Troll bridge toll I felt compelled to pay, all because you wanted a second medical opinion,” you respond dryly.

“I’m supposed to believe you were the first? And I’m telling Heeseung you called him a troll.”

“Keep that up and you won’t be getting any cookies, Park.” 

Of course, you feed him a cookie as soon as you’re back in his room. Jay has changed into his pajamas while you were away, and he points to another set he’s laid out for you after he’s done eating the cookie. Once you get changed, you settle on the rug in front of Jay’s bed and start an obscure history documentary together while eating the food you brought him. You warn him that it won’t be as good as what he makes (you are a far better baker than you are a cook). Undeterred, he makes an exaggerated effort to fawn over every dish and praise your skills.

Afterwards, you sit on the edge of his bed and let him lean his head on your lap as you blow dry his hair. “I heard you were being a pain in the ass this week about Valentine’s Day,” you mention. 

“That… is a distinct possibility, for sure.”

“Seriously, I think you scared away all of Niki’s coworkers. He wants your help with research for his history paper, by the way. Oh, that reminds me— what’s the name of your group chat with Niki and Jungwon?”

Jay grimaces. “Glucose father slay.”

You suppress a snort. “That’s… creative, if unsubtle.”

He hums contentedly from the just-right warmth of the hairdryer and the just-right softness of your hands. “We’ll get to have lots of Valentine’s Days together, right?”

"Of course, baby."

When it hits midnight, you’re curled up together in his bed, with his laptop still playing the credits of the history documentary. You enter February 14th like that, tucked under his chin, exactly where you want to be.

On one of the first randomly hot days that pop up in late March before the weather actually gets warmer, you’re holed up in the library, eyes aching after staring at the tiny text in ancient manuscripts for too long and shivering in the temperature-controlled special collections section of the library. While the rest of your friends are out at the college’s golf course enjoying the warm weather at a joint charity tournament, you’re stuck here, beholden to the block in your calendar which says “manuscript time :/”. The rare manuscripts you need for your thesis are only available to be looked at during certain times, but today’s research session has proven to be less than fruitful, given how often your eyes wander to the door to the exit and how empty your notes are.

You can feel yourself dozing off for the umpteenth time when suddenly, warm hands land on top of your shoulders, and a smooth voice murmurs in your ear, “Working hard or hardly working, Cinderella?”

Jay. You turn your head to meet his gaze; crescents of affection reflect back at you. “How’d you get in here?” Appointments are usually required for the rare manuscripts room.

He flashes you a smirk. “Charmed the librarian.”

“Wow, I didn’t know you pulled with the 40-and-up demographic like that.”

“Yeah, I told her I missed my girlfriend so much I’d cry if I couldn’t see her today.” He drops a kiss to your cheek, then maneuvers the chair next to you sideways and backwards so he can sit as close to you as possible. He crosses his arms on top of the back of the chair and rests his chin against his arms to stare at you, soft and beckoning. “You look like you want to leave.”

You sigh and turn fully sideways towards him, letting his long legs bracket yours while your knees push up against the back of his chair. “You look like a reason to leave,” you admit. It comes out breathy in a way that you hadn’t intended, but who can blame you— Jay is dressed for the golf tournament in a navy blue polo and crisp white slacks, and as always, his clothes fit like they were made for him. 

In the back of your mind, you make a note to ask where he gets his tailoring done. In the front of your mind, your attention roams from the clean line of his shirt sleeves against his biceps, to the inviting curve of his mouth, to the planes of his chest that peek out behind the top two undone buttons of his shirt. All these months later, looking at him still hasn’t gotten old; truthfully, you don’t think it ever will.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Jay inquires, peering closer at you with a sly grin on his face.

“Like you have to ask,” you grumble, reaching out to pinch his cheek in retaliation for the teasing question.

He grabs your hand before it reaches him and gently bites the tip of your index finger, laughing when you make an offended face and pull your hand back. “C’mon, let’s get out of here, yeah? We should at least make an appearance at the tournament we organized.”

You glance back at the heavy tomes you’ve pulled out today— pages and pages of dense Middle English to get through. Then, you look at Jay, who has chosen that moment to skate his fingertips up and down the top of your right thigh. The decision is almost comically easy to make. “Yeah, fuck this. Let’s go.” 

You dutifully return your books and say a polite goodbye to the librarian, who coos at you both. Jay waves your joined hands at her. On your way out to the main section of the library, goosebumps form on your arms from the change in temperature: arctic vortex to plain old frigid, both of which are wholly inhospitable environments for the sleeveless golf dress you’d worn today in hopes of eventually getting to the tournament. 

“Cold?” Jay halts you both and sweeps his hands across your shoulders and down to your wrists, frowning at the chill he encounters on your skin. Normally, he’d offer you his jacket or sweater or something, but he just has the shirt on his back today. “This won’t do,” he murmurs, and then he’s pulling you in the direction of the secluded stacks.

It’s dark and shadowy there, with not a single soul occupying any of the carrel desks spaced in between the rows of books. Your heartbeat picks up despite yourself; you think you have a good idea of where this is going. This is also something that hasn’t gotten old yet and likely never will. “You know, I’ve always thought it would be kind of hot to hook up in a library,” you comment.

Jay trips over air, then quickly rights himself and shakes his head as if to clear it before looking at you again. “You would, you nerd,” he says, but it comes out low and contemplative. 

As soon as you reach the carrel desk located in the most isolated corner of the stacks, he brings his hands to your waist and lifts you up to sit on top of the desk. Happily, you hook your ankles behind his legs and draw him in to stand between yours. “You can’t tell me you weren’t thinking the same thing.”

“I just wanted to kiss you for a bit, so you could warm up,” Jay insists. He leans in closer, until your chests are pressed up against each other. “But now that we’re here…” 

“Now that we’re here,” you agree. Then you’re tilting forward to kiss him, and the tension in your body from a long morning at the library dissipates into the heat of his mouth and the softness of his hair.

Jay kisses you long and luxuriously, like he was born to do nothing but stand around and kiss you. “You did so well with planning the tournament,” he tells you in between kisses, smothering the words against your mouth. 

“You did, too,” you reply, dispensing the compliment in airy gasps against his ear as he moves down to your neck, feathering open-mouthed kisses against the skin there. A whimper escapes from your throat when he bites down at the juncture of your neck and your clavicle, transforming into a breathy moan as he soothes over the sting with his tongue. His name slips out of your mouth in a dragged-out whine: “Jongseong.” 

He shudders against you. “Warn a guy before you do that, will you? I don’t actually want to come in my pants in the library.”

You giggle, tugging his head back so you can look at him. You’re met with shiny lips, slow-blinking eyes that drag up and down your body, and tousled hair, messed up from Jay’s meticulous styling by your wandering hands. Temptation, personified. “Fuck,” you breathe out. “What if I do?”

“You’re not wearing pants,” Jay points out cheekily. His demeanor switches to sultry in an instant when he presses down on your bottom lip with his thumb, and he groans when your tongue darts out over it. “God, you’re so hot. C’mere, doll, let me sort you out.”

Twenty minutes later, you’re slipping out of the back door of the library and into the parking lot. You shoot off a quick text to Yunjin, asking her to hold down the fort for a little while longer at the tournament, and then Jay is tugging you into the backseat of his car with an urgency that makes your heart pound. Now, you get to sort him out, and it’s so much better than staring at old books.

yunjin: what is taking so long i sent jay to get u like 45 minutes ago

you: sorry be there in a bit love you babe!

yunjin: woooooooooow remember when i said i would never betray u for dick

yunjin: guess u DO NOT FEEL THE SAME

yunjin: ah well have fun don’t do anything i wouldn’t ;)

to all the boys i’ve fake-dated before (you, sunghoon, yeonjun, chan, vernon, mark, and 5 others)

you: were any of you fuckers going to tell me that jay’s birthday is TOMORROW?!

you: help!!!!! what do i get for him!!!!!

sunghoon: believe me that man wakes up every day thanking god that ur his gf. u don’t need to get him anything

you: as much as i appreciate the reporting of his simp behavior, i am IN A PANIC his birthday is in 12 hours why the fuck didn’t anyone say anything sooner?!?!

vernon: i’m gifting him a new speaker for the basement

chan: bro you’re getting that gift for ALL of us bc you BROKE the speaker in the basement

vernon: and jay is one of the many recipients of that gift!

you: FOCUS on me and MY problem please

mark: yooooo u could write him a song? i still owe u a favor so i’d be down to help

you: and make him listen to me perform it? i’m trying to keep this relationship going, not obliterate it

yeonjun: mans has one single move in his arsenal

mark: HEY it worked out pretty well for me

yeonjun: only bc u had like a million ppl helping u

sunghoon: i got jay tickets to that japanese singer he likes

you: FUCK that’s such a good idea why didn’t i think of that

sunghoon: bc u didn’t know his birthday was coming up

you: thanks genius

sunghoon: but anyways jay never makes a big deal out of his birthday

sunghoon: it’s mostly like a sentimental thing for his parents bc they tried for so long to have him

vernon: strictly speaking, they were trying to have ANY of the sperm inseminate ANY of the eggs so like it didn’t have to be him specifically

mark: dude wtf

chan: i’m sure jay will love whatever you get for him! maybe you could paint or draw something for him?

you: okay yes yes i can bang something out real quick in the studio 

vernon: that’s what she said

yeonjun: this is why ur still single

you: the sperm and egg comment didn’t give it away?

vernon: guys stop ganging up on me wtf

you: okay thank you ONLY to chan the rest of you were useless

you: chan u could start a business. like a gift-giving idea business

mark: like santa claus but without the actual gifts?

yeonjun: ghost santa claus

chan: none of you should ever be allowed to start a business

It’s 5am by the time you’re finished in the studio, and you know your sleep cycle is going to be all sorts of messed up for the next few days, but it’s a small price to pay so you can slide into Jay’s bed and mold yourself against his body, knowing that your painting of the scene of your first date is leaning safely against the wall across from you. 

Unfortunately, the swift arrival of sunrise and birds chirping outside of Jay’s window leave you unable to fall asleep (not to mention the energy drink you’d chugged at 2am). You give up on it quickly, comforted by the fact that you don’t have any classes today and can afford to sleep in when your body eventually gives out on you. 

Staring at Jay is not an unenjoyable way to pass the time, so that’s what you do. Sleep smoothes out all the muscles in his face, but the sharp angles of the underlying bone structure turn him into marble; idly, you wonder how many sculptors would kill to be able to craft something this beautiful, this timeless and exquisite. You’ve tried to sketch or paint Jay multiple times yourself, and you’re still trying (that senior portfolio is going to be the death of you), but to date, you’ve been left unsatisfied. Something about Jay is just too expressive, too lively, too attentive; you haven’t been able to nail down the exact way he moves through the world, much less the way he looks at you like nothing else exists. There’s so much love to give in those steady hands, and so many meanings to divine in those familiar eyes—

Oh.

Jay’s eyes have flipped open, displaying his least endearing habit: sleeping with his eyes open. It unnerves you to no end, even though it makes him look kind of silly, so you have to flip around with a small grin on your face. “You’re lucky I love you so much,” you whisper, mostly to yourself.

His arm tightens around your waist. “Tell me something I don’t know.” The words come out slightly slurred, and the movement of his lips against the back of your neck makes you shiver. 

You flip back around to meet his now closed eyes. “You’re awake?” Jay usually sleeps like the dead.

“I’m trying really hard not to be,” he drawls. Eyes still closed, he tugs you closer to press his lips to your forehead. “Go to sleep, doll.”

You hum tunelessly and fidget with the pendant of his necklace. “Happy birthday, Jongseong.” You can feel his lips curve into a smile against your skin, but you’re quick to nip that in the bud. “Or should I say… traitor? Why didn’t you tell me your birthday was coming up? I had to find out from Jungwon.”

“Typical mama’s boy.”

You giggle, even as you admonish him with: “Seriously, that joke needs to die. One of Riki’s coworkers actually thinks I’m his mom, and I just have a really good Botox supplier.”

Jay’s chest rumbles in amusement underneath your ear. Afterwards, it’s quiet for a long moment before he finally opens his eyes to peer blearily at you. “Are you upset I didn’t tell you about my birthday?”

You give him a tiny shrug. “Just curious, I guess. Plenty of people don’t like to celebrate their birthdays. Sunghoon said it’s usually more of a thing for your parents than it is for you.”

“Yeah, that’s about right.” Jay rubs his thumb over your cheek. “I’m spending the day with them, actually. We go to the same place for brunch every year, and then we just kind of walk around until dinner, which I’ve been cooking for the past couple of years.”

You smile automatically at the thought of his parents. They adore you, and the feeling is mutual— how could it not be? 

Jay’s thumb halts its movements as something occurs to him. “Well, hey, do you wanna come with us?” 

Quickly, you shake your head. You can spot Jay’s Mr. Nice Guy gestures from a mile away. “Nah, you should keep up your tradition with your parents. We’re still getting lunch with them this weekend, right? So I’ll get to see them soon, anyways.”

“My mom said she loves the insoles you sent her, by the way.”

“Right? Super comfortable. I can stay on my feet in the studio all day in those.” Just then, you’re hit by a yawn. “I guess I did the equivalent of a full day last night.”

Suddenly, Jay sits up straight, making you whine about the loss of coziness. “Wait, yeah, why are you here so early? Not that I don’t love waking up next to you, because I really do, but you weren’t here last night, and… oh my god.” He cuts himself off when he spots the painting against his wall.

You sit up as well. “Don’t freak out,” you begin. “I had fun making it, okay? And I don’t have class today so I can sleep alllllll day and if you’re not tired after dinner we can hang out afterwards, and seriously, Jay, light of my life, apple of my eye, etcetera, etcetera— let me do something nice for you without you feeling guilty about it, okay?” You draw in a deep breath. “I know I’m, like, afflicted with a chronic need to be helpful, but c’mon. Pot, kettle.” You point to yourself and then to him. “I love that you’re humble and kind and you know how lucky you are, but there’s nothing… to prove. You hear me? Just because you’ve had a good life doesn’t mean you have to give 110% of yourself to everyone else to deserve it. Please don’t make yourself feel bad because you get to take something from me for once instead of giving.” At the end of your rant, you blink in surprise at yourself. “Sorry, I don’t know when that turned into a lecture. All I’m saying is that you told me once that you’d want to give me Valentine’s Day every day, even if I didn’t deserve it, and I want to give that to you, too.”

Jay’s eyes flick between you and the painting and back to you, staring at you like he’s never seen you before. He’s speechless for so long that you count to 33 in your head in Mississippis that are definitely longer than one second. Finally, he crushes you to his chest in a hug that has your arms flailing around him with the force of it. “I feel like you just crawled into my head,” he says against your ear.

You make a face that he can’t see. “Didn’t need that visual in my head, but okay, baby.”

“I mean… I’m just feeling very perceived; that’s all. And I don’t really have anything else to say except that I love you so much, and thank you, and you’re my favorite person in the world.” He sniffles, and then preempts you with a, “Shut up.”

“Noooooo, I made you cry,” you coo at him, leaning back in his hold to swipe under his eyes with your thumbs. As you continue to fuss over him and he pretends to bite at your fingers, he hopes you know just how much he’s affected by your words and just how much you mean to him. Golden boy Park Jongseong, the prodigal son, the miracle child— he doesn’t think it could fairly be called a burden, because how could it be a burden to be so lucky, to be so loved, to have never truly suffered? But somehow, you get it. Maybe because you’re cut from the same self-sacrificing cloth, or maybe because you just understand him at an atomic level, but you get it. You get that he has dedicated his life to deserving his life in the first place; you get that he tries so hard, all the time, because he wants to be worthy of what he’s been given; you get that he gives, and gives, and gives, and he never wants to take, because he feels like he hasn’t done enough to pay back the gifts with which he was born, let alone take anything else from this world. And here you are, giving him your heart on his birthday— a day he doesn't think is anything special except for the joy it gives his parents— because you love him. Because you're just glad that you were born in the same timeline. He has never dared to ask for a gift like this.

Pathetically, all that he can get out is a simple, “I love the painting, by the way.” He nudges your nose with his. “I’m going to have it framed for our place after we graduate.”

“Our place?”

“Oh, yeah.” He clears his throat awkwardly. “I guess this is me asking. Do you want to live with me next year? Wherever it is that we end up. It would be, you know, economical.”

“Right, because we totally didn’t just have a conversation about your hang-ups with being born with a silver spoon in your mouth. And mine, too, I guess.”

Jay tsks at you. “Okay, or maybe I just want to wake up next to you every day. And make you food when you forget to eat, and listen to your horrible true crime podcasts while we clean up around the place, and hold your hair when you get sick because you forgot to take your Lactaid, and make sweet, sweet love to you every night—”

“Okay, okay, stop!” You’re laughing uncontrollably now, putting your hands up to stop Jay and the obnoxious kissy-face he’s making from coming any closer to you. “I didn’t need that much convincing, although I’m not sure how effective your convincing is when you’re just listing my bad habits, Mr. I-Sleep-With-My-Eyes-Open.”

“Yeah, but aren’t I lucky that you love me so much?” Jay smirks at you before tackling you down into his bed.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” you repeat to him. Sunlight slants in through the window behind his head, haloing him in a light so ethereal that you could be convinced the sun shines just for him. Like this, your words fade away from you, until all you’re left with is a quiet, heartfelt, “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, I’ll live with you after we graduate.” Softly, you stroke through the hair at his nape. “Stop wondering, by the way.”

Jay’s eyebrows furrow. “Wondering what?”

You reach up to smooth away the crease in his brow. “Wondering if you’re allowed to be this happy. I just told you, like, a million times. You are. The heavens have decreed that Park Jongseong shall be happy for as long as he lives, and a long time after that.” Dramatically, you tap each of his shoulders, as if you’re knighting him. “It is thus decided.”

Jay swoops down and plants a chaste peck on your lips. “Well, since it’s thus decided. Let me add something to that decree, though: I’m going to make you happy for as long as I live, and a long time after that,” he promises. 

And you know he will.

(London is overcast and dreary when you touch down at Heathrow; typical, for a mid-September day. You and Jay still carry tans from a summer of island-hopping around Asia and the Mediterranean, but you’re sure those will fade soon. Still, there’s nothing you can complain about when Jay’s arm is snug around your waist and he looks like a dream in a light wool coat and admittedly unnecessary sunglasses.

You tease him about the sunglasses all the way to the doorstep of your new, shared apartment. But then he kisses you across the threshold and whispers about how much he loves you and how excited he is to be with you for the rest of his life, and you are so, so happy. Unbelievably happy. Beautifully happy. 

Happy, forevermore. This, the heavens have decreed.)

#enhypen #park jay #park jongseong #enhypen jay #enhypen x reader #jay x reader #enhypen fic #jay fic #enhypen fluff #jay fluff #enhypen oneshot #jay oneshot #im out here slapping a parentheses epilogue at the end of every one of these fics (two) bc honestly....... laziness #anyways writing a sequel to a fic that's creeping uncomfortably close to the length of the original fic itself is... a choice! #ik it's only been like two weeks since i posted the original fic #but i needed to exorcise this version of jay from my brain bc i literally could not focus on my interstate move otherwise #so here you go #it's not much but it's honest work etcetera etcetera #oh and once again the title and that song have nothing to do with the plot (what little of it there is) #i was just looking for another phrase i liked in that song so this title could match the original fic #where the title ALSO had nothing to do with the fic. im capricious like that #ss.fic

[likelylarks]

#daniel ricciardo #max verstappen #maxiel #31 days of maxiel #larks writes #larks tries #i categorically do not believe in writing holiday fic #bc then it's weird and out of place when you find it in april or july or october or any other time that's not christmas #so instead #have some depression :) #the deconstructed version of this song is extra heart breaking you're welcome

[quaddmgd]

PARTY LIKE IT'S 2072

Place me in my casket tonight Because I'm already dying inside Pale skin so cold to the touch Like a rose in bloom when we blush Dark eyes meet under the sky The stars are out, we're alive in the night My hollow heart finds it too hard to trust We're all alone until we turn back to dust

Sidewalks and Skeletons - GOTH

#cyberpunk 2077 #fem v #oc: thalia sullivan #vanilla photo mode #screen.qd #originally i wanted to post this along with my small fic about thalia and crystal #but i don't know when i'll finish it so here you go! #got inspired while listening to sidewalks and skeletons (again) #when they released the 'slowed + reverb' version of goth #i was like 'wait a minute' #suddenly got this idea for a new snippet of thalia's previous life #for now her past is supposed to be insignificant and unknown to an extent #so each small new detail feels surprising in a way - even to me #enjoy the song - it's one of my favorites #i often want to plug in some of my fav songs but no post ever feels worthy of such bangers haha #like - what if i make something better and it'll fit this song even more #oh and as always - no version of thalia looks alike #no clue why lol #i could give that gal a different name and no one would notice :>

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Sam Wilson Masterlist

I Wish You Would · Summary - You wish you could go back and remember what you were fighting for. You wish you could remember what was worth such angry last words to the love of your life. But mostly, you wish he knew that you missed him too much to be mad anymore.

Midnight Rain · Summary - You broke his heart because he was nice. He was Sunshine, and you were more like Midnight Rain.

i'll take care of you · Summary - He'll always take care of you.

#anonymityisfunwriter #anonymityisfun #sam wilson x you #sam wilson x y/n #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x fem!reader #sam wilson x female reader #sam wilson fic #sam wilson fanfiction #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson fluff #sam wilson fanfic #sam wilson au #sam wilson angst #samuel wilson #sam wilson #reader insert #based on a taylor swift song #taylor's version #i wish you would #x reader #midnight rain #samuel thomas wilson #sam wilson x avenger!reader #the falcon and the winter soldier

[pethfics]

ESCAFLOWNE WEEK 2021 DAY 4: ROYALTY/THE LOVERS (Parts 1 and 2)

*This fountain is a crucial set piece.

Title: Aston Captives

Summary: 

Dryden Fassa finds an unlikely kindred spirit in the former Strategos of Zaibach as they realize they have both been enchanted by an Aston princess.

Musical Inspiration: 1, 2, 3

Note:

I've had the idea for this fic since at least 2018.  Here is the Dryden and Folken buddy story that grew from a one-shot to a trilogy. Such fun to write though. Dryden is one of my favorite characters because he is such a cool cat and a refreshing contrast against the brash and serious major male characters. He is always fun to write and I think he and Folken would get along swimmingly so it was great to write a scene for them to just hang out and discover what they have in common. This is my favorite piece for this week. I finally get to indulge in my ships and it is glorious.

#Escaflowneweek #Escaflowne #Aston Captives #THE ROM COM VIBES OF THIS PIECE AFTER THE PAIN OF THE PREVIOUS ONE #Dryden Fassa #Folken Fanel #Millerna Aston #Eries Aston #my favorite of all the pieces #because I am a shipper at heart #DrydenxMillerna #FolkenxEries #ah the agony of the two princes #two versions of that song #one for the overdramatic acting and shirt ripping #and the other for the better singing #OMG as much as I love all my fics for Escaweek #I do not love them equally #and though I would love if you read all of them #if you only read one please do read this one

[wowbright]

Fic: I’ll Always Belong to You

Klaine Valentine’s Challenge 2023: “Time of My Life” from Dirty Dancing (Day 14 prompt)

Words: ~2400 words

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: Kurt loves his birthday present from Blaine.

I’m back with more vignettes from my Mormon!Klaine universe for Klaine Valentines 2023! This vignette takes place in the post-mission-conference arc, between dinner with the lesbians and Blaine coming out to Kurt. I’ve decided Lead, Kindly Light takes place on Kurt’s birthday, so it’s directly after/the evening of that fic.

My Mormon!Klaine Masterpost. (Klaine Valentines 2023 posts are bold and italicized.)

Notes:

Thanks to @redheadgleek, @flower29power, and @gaazhagens for Sound of Music help

Play list of a few German Sound of Music songs/scenes

German movie lyrics to Do-Re-Mi

PDF lyrics to “Ich bleibe dein immerzu” (German movie version of “Something Good”)

Other links are in the text

Other notes in tags

--------

“Have you enjoyed your birthday so far?” Blaine asked as they entered the apartment.

“Are you kidding? I’ve had the time of my life!” Kurt set his bag down on the floor and bounded over to the loveseat, flopping onto it with complete abandon, his arms draped over one end, his feet dangling off the other. “Allgäu, cows, the investigators cancelling their appointment—”

“You're really not disappointed about that at all, are you?” Blaine asked as he took off his shoes. He wasn't disappointed that Kurt wasn't disappointed; actually, it rather pleased him. Through most of their companionship, Kurt had been such a workaholic and an absolute stickler for the rules. But tonight, instead of insisting that they knock on doors to make up for some high schoolers canceling on them, he let Blaine treat him to dinner before watching the sunset on the Danube. It had felt, at least to Blaine, almost like a date.

“Nope,” Kurt said. “They just want to research us for their religion class, anyway. And if they did want to join the church, they’re too young to do that without parental approval. How many Bavarian parents are going to be like, ‘Sure, kid, screw the Catholic Church. Go join the Mormons’?”

“How many Bavarian parents actually care that much about the Catholic Church?” He lifted Kurt’s legs like a tollgate to join his companion on the couch, then lowered them across his lap once he was seated.

“Just enough to distrust everything else,” Kurt said without acrimony. He sighed and stretched his arms above his head, wiggling his torso like he was trying to get some kink out of his muscles. “But I suppose it is unusual for me not to feel dejected about a cancellation. Guess I'm officially getting trunky.”

Blaine felt his heart sink in his chest. He hated being reminded that Kurt was leaving soon. All day, he'd managed to pretend that it was never going to happen. Allgäu and the Donau had been paradise, but now Kurt was kicking them out. “You still have a month to go," Blaine said. “Can't afford to be trunky yet.”

Kurt poked Blaine’s thigh with his toe. “I've been such a perfect missionary for twenty-three straight months. All I need to do now is endure to the end. That's what the scriptures say, isn't it? ‘Endure to the end,’ not ‘excel to the end.’”

Blaine chuckled. “That is indeed what they say.”

“I'll do my best not to turn lazy for your sake, though,” Kurt added seriously.

“You don't have to worry about that,” Blaine said. “It's a little known fact, but I actually like spending time with you, whether we're proselytizing or not.” He looked into Kurt's eyes, and Kurt looked into his, studying his face, as if looking for the meaning between the words.

Blaine wanted so desperately for Kurt to find it. Because there was no way Blaine was going to say it out loud. Not when he was so unsure how Kurt would respond. And not on Kurt’s birthday, when everything had been so lovely and perfect and magical. Blaine couldn't risk breaking something so beautiful.

“Your birthday isn't over,” Blaine said. “I didn't manage to secretly bake you a multitiered lemon cake, but I do have something else for you.”

“Oh?” Kurt perked up, clearly curious. “Allgäu, dinner—you don’t think I’ve been spoiled enough?”

“Of course not. Your birthday’s not over yet, is it?” Blaine scooted out from under Kurt’s legs and went into the bedroom to fish his suitcase out from under his bed.

“So that’s where you hide the presents.” Kurt was standing in the doorway, watching Blaine, making absolutely no effort to hide his eagerness to find out what Blaine had in his suitcase. It was adorable.

“That's where I hid this one,” Blaine said, retrieving a small package wrapped in a scenic photo of Kyoto from a magazine in Dani’s recycling pile. It had made Blaine think of Kurt because they’d joked once about going to Japan to visit the train station where a cat was in charge—only Blaine hadn't exactly been joking. He’d meant it. He wanted to meet that cat and, wherever he went, he wanted Kurt to be with him.

Kurt probably didn't even remember that conversation. But that was okay. The photo was beautiful in its own right.

“Oh!” Kurt squealed when Blaine handed the package to him. “I love getting presents.” He dropped onto his bed and examined the square. It was probably obvious to him from the shape that a CD was inside, but he acted like it was the most mysterious object he’d ever held. “Hey! That’s Japan! Is this the place with the cat train conductor that we’re going to visit when you’re done with your mission and I’ve saved anough money to take a jaunt through Asia?”

“That’s Kyoto,” Blaine said, his heart on the verge of exploding. “The cat is in Wakayama. But they’re not too far apart. Maybe a hundred miles? We could definitely visit both of them.”

“How do you know so much about Japan?”

Blaine shrugged. “There might have been a map in that same magazine I pulled the picture from.”

Kurt clucked his tongue. “Elder Anderson, reading unapproved materials. I might have to talk to the mission president about this,” he said in a tone that meant he definitely was not going to talk to the mission president about it.

God help me, Blaine thought. Kurt was so sexy when he feigned disapproval.

Blaine dropped down next to him, the mattress bouncing from the new weight. “So are you going to open it or not? The suspense is killing me.”

“Whose birthday is it?” Kurt said with a smirk. But he did unwrap it. “Meine Lieder, meine Träume,” he read as he revealed the top of the CD cover. “Wait. Is this … Oh my gosh! It is!” Kurt flung his arms around Blaine and hugged the breath out of him.

It was the German soundtrack to The Sound of Music. Blaine had found it in a music store in Munich during the mission conference, and it had immediately struck him as the perfect gift for his companion.

“Is it because this is the musical of my namesake, Kurt von Trapp?” Kurt asked, squeezing Blaine’s arm.

Blaine giggled. He couldn't help it. Kurt was so delightful. Blaine must have sounded like a hopelessly besotted schoolboy. “Partly. But also because I think I've heard you sing almost every single song from the soundtrack in the shower at some point.”

“Of course I have! Because it’s the best musical on earth! It’s got romance, found family, and a half-hour public service announcement against Nazis!” Kurt excitedly opened the liner notes. “And it has a lyrics insert!”

Kurt was a force of nature. He grabbed Blaine's hand and pulled him into the living room. It wasn't long before the CD player was removed from its hiding place and plugged into the wall, and Kurt and Blaine were on the loveseat with the liner notes between them, learning the German lyrics to “The Sound of Music”: Along the valleys sounds the song of mountains, the most beautiful song far from our time.

Of course, they didn’t stay on the loveseat for long. One cannot easily sing with gusto while sitting down (the downstairs apartment was empty, and the living room wall faced outside, so they didn't have to worry about disturbing the neighbors unless they got really loud), and dancing is made easier by standing. They pondered how to confront the problem of Maria, recited their favorite things, and learned entirely new mnemonics for the do-re-mi scale (do was not doe, a female deer, but the first syllable in the name of the Donau River; ray was not a drop of golden sun, but Reh, a hoofed herbivore that lived in high-altitude forests; and ti wasn’t ti at all, but si—what passes in Rome for “yes”).

They sang sometimes, and danced sometimes, and occasionally engaged in friendly arguments about the meaning of the lyrics and whether they were good translations.

Blaine collapsed on the loveseat when the Ländler began. He loved this part of the movie, when little Kurt von Trapp asks Maria to teach him the waltz-like dance and Captain von Trapp steps in to demonstrate. It's the first moment the audience knows for sure that the Captain and Maria are falling in love.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Kurt asked, his eyebrows quirked in challenge.

“Sitting down?”

“For the Ländler? You can’t sit for the Ländler. It has the name of an actual dance in its title.”

"But I don't know the steps," Blaine said.

“But I do,” said Kurt, bowing slightly and holding out one hand. “Elder Anderson, will you do me the honor of this dance?”

“Well, if you put it that way, Elder Hummel.” Blaine felt giddy. He wasn’t a Disney prince—Kurt was. Blaine was Arielle, woozy with infatuation. Still, he managed to stand and return the bow, then slot his hand into Kurt’s.

Kurt rested his free hand on Blaine’s waist and guided him through the dance. Two hops and a turn. Two hops and a turn. Kurt was right. It wasn't that hard—or, rather, Kurt made it easy. He was an expert lead, guiding with gestures and subtle movements, never forcing Blaine’s body into an unexpected pose. Their bodies returned naturally to each other after every separation. And though the space they were in was tiny, Kurt somehow made it feel huge, like they had the entire world under their feet and could dance wherever their hearts led them.

Blaine fell into the dance like he was falling into Kurt, every minute of every day.

The Ländler ended, but they continued dancing in the silence between songs, through the silliness of “So Long, Farewell” and the joy of “Climb Every Mountain,” and Blaine was so caught up in the music and the lyrics and the feeling of being held in Kurt’s arms that he completely forgot what was coming next until it did—the languid love song where Captain von Trapp and Maria finally admit their feelings to each other.

Nun stehst du hier und du sagst „Liebe mich,“ was ich so gerne tu, So nimm mich und mach du uns glücklich, ich bleibe dein immerzu

(Now you stand here and say, "Love me," which I so gladly do, So take me and make us happy, I'll always belong to you)

Kurt slowed, but didn’t stop or let Blaine go. His eyes were on Blaine’s, clear and fearless. It was like being serenaded. It was like being loved.

Blaine inched slowly closer, testing the waters, waiting for Kurt to stop him. But Kurt didn’t. And now Blaine’s cheek was on Kurt's shoulder and both of Kurt’s arms were around his waist, and they were slow dancing in the living room, the whole world beyond them nothing but a dream.

Blaine sang along. Ich bleibe dein immerzu. Kurt could choose to understand or not. It wasn't in Blaine’s control.

And then he heard Kurt singing back, felt the vibrations of the words in his scalp as Kurt pressed his cheek pressed against the top of Blaine’s head: Nun stehst du hier und du sagst „Liebe mich,“ was ich so gerne tu. Blaine’s fingers flexed into Kurt’s back. He should say it. Liebe mich, Kurt. Liebe mich. That was the thing, wasn't it? He had told Kurt he loved him so many times that Kurt couldn't hear it for what it was. But if he said, Love me, Kurt, please. I need you to love me in every way you know how—then maybe Kurt would finally understand.

Als du kamst, da war ich selig, so wie du. So nimm mich und mach du uns glücklich, ich bleibe dein immerzu.

(You are blessed, and when you came into my life, I was, too. So take me and make us happy, I'll always belong to you.)

The music stopped. Blaine’s heart sped up. But Kurt’s arms were still around him, giving him strength. He could do this. He could say this. He lifted his eyes to Kurt’s, and Kurt was looking back at him as if he already knew.

“Kurt—”

Bang. Bang. Bang. “Elders! It's me, Dani! I heard you come in earlier and I have something for Elder Hummel’s birthday!”

“You told her about my birthday?” Kurt said incredulously. His arms were still on Blaine’s waist, but he had stepped back, his chest no longer warming Blaine’s.

Blaine bit his bottom lip to keep from swearing. “When I told her we were going to Allgäu. I didn’t think she’d do something about it.”

Kurt smiled softly. “It’s okay. I am the one who said I like presents.” And with that, he halfway across the room. “Coming, Dani!”

Kurt swung the door open. Dani stood there with a plate of cupcakes in one hand, her girlfriend at her shoulder, and Stürmchen at her ankles. “They’re chocolate. We were going to try something really fancy like Black Forest cake, but then I remembered you guys don't drink alcohol, and I wasn't sure if the kirsch counted. So just plain chocolate with chocolate frosting. We taste-tested a few and can guarantee that they are not terrible. But if you think they are, just throw them away, don't let Stürmchen eat any. Her birthday gift to you is her presence. You can have her overnight if you like. I know how much it kills you not to be able to have your own cat. Besides, the last couple nights she's been trying to sleep on top of my head and it drives me crazy.”

Stürmchen was already inside the apartment, rubbing herself all over Kurt’s ankles. Blaine found himself feeling jealous of the cat.

He took a deep breath. This was for the best. Today was Kurt’s day, not his. It wasn’t Blaine’s place to ask him for anything. It was a time to celebrate Kurt, and love him as much as Kurt would allow.

If Kurt wanted more, he would let Blaine know.

#klainevalentines2023 #klaine fanfiction #mormon!klaine #wowbright writes fic #klaine fic #The lyrics to the big love song in The Sound of Music movie (“Something Good”) are totally different in German than they are in English. Not #Not my fault. But you can blame this on me: #My translation of the German version into English is a little loose—they’re how I imagine Blaine understanding the lyrics. #also the German movie lyrics are different than the German theatre lyrics #by a lot #the theatre ones are generally closer to the English #but I went with the movie because I could find CDs of that online #though it's easier to find the theater versions in online formats like YouTube and MP3

[musicallypan]

I have 2 wenclair fics in my braincells and they're both inspired by music

I hope I can write them before other people get the same idea cuz I'm pretty sure one of the songs is really really common and people are also gonna connect the dots NDBFKDBFKSJFLS

Im a new writer too so I don't have the exp to make it actually good ToTT

#musicallypan #wenclair #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #wednesday netflix #you're just gonna see a shittier version of a song fic you like istg #why must school exist