#Head Over Heels had mediocre songs!

[steddieas-shegoes]

your heart sings to mine

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'open mic night' rated: M wc: 992 cw: alcohol, implied/referenced recreational drug use tags: mutual pining, idiots to lovers, love confessions in the rain

🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤

The bar didn’t call it karaoke night because they were hoping to attract talent.

At least that’s what the owner said when they arrived, ready to sign up for a song.

Steve sighed in relief, and Robin quickly got over it when she saw the list of people singing.

Eddie, of course, still added his name, much to the bar owner’s disgust and disappointment.

And now they were waiting through a line of mediocre at best singers, who probably only signed up because someone told them once that they had a nice voice.

"This woman knows that professionals have to be able to hit the notes, right?" Robin asked Steve, her face giving away her displeasure.

"I think she thinks she is a professional," Steve replied, wincing as the woman's voice cracked.

"I think I can at least hit the notes in the song I picked," Eddie grinned. "Promise not to boo me off the stage if I don't, though."

He was teasing; He had an actual band that he actually performed on stage with once a week. He would not only hit all the notes, but probably put on a hell of a show.

Steve was a little worried about that.

He'd only been to two Corroded Coffin shows before; The first was an accident when he was a senior, before he knew Eddie, and the second was with Robin, Jonathan, and Nancy shortly after Eddie was cleared to do regular activities again.

That show had been quite a life changing event for Steve.

It's not that he hadn't noticed his attraction to Eddie before, it's just that it was more on the backburner.

But seeing him on stage, lighting up the bar, becoming this huge figure while still maintaining his casual act of being the town outcast, Steve realized this wasn't just attraction.

This was the kind of feeling that happens when you aren't paying attention, when you think you know how you feel and then get hit with the moment.

That was over a month ago and Steve hadn't said anything to Eddie.

Nancy, of all people, had been the one to notice. She pulled him aside that night and asked him if he was sure.

And he wasn't. Not then, not now.

He was sure of his feelings, but not Eddie's.

"Eddie Munson!" the person handling the list called into the microphone.

"Cheer extra loud for me," Eddie winked at Steve as he got up and ran to the stage.

As if there was any chance Steve wouldn't.

The song started and Steve froze.

Head Over Heels was the last thing he expected to hear, and for a moment, he thought they mixed up Eddie's chosen song with someone else's.

But Eddie smiled into the microphone and started singing right on cue.

"Oh boy," Robin said from next to him.

Steve couldn't say anything.

All he could do was sit and watch and listen.

Eddie sang beautifully, his slightly rough voice adding an edge to a song that otherwise didn't have one at all.

When it ended, Steve stood up from his seat abruptly, needing fresh air, maybe a smoke.

The beer he'd been drinking wasn't doing it.

As he made his way outside, he pulled the joint Eddie had rolled for them to share out of his pocket, ready to light it.

He didn't smoke often, but this felt like the right time.

The rain pouring down outside didn't deter him from going, he knew he had a change of clothes in his trunk and he was willing to risk catching a cold if it meant having a moment outside alone.

But he was only alone for a moment.

He turned when the side door banged open, his heart skipping a beat when he saw Eddie's head turning from side to side to look for him.

"Steve!" Eddie said when he saw him against the wall of the opposite building. "Did you not like the song?"

He looked hurt.

Steve hated when he looked like that.

"No, I loved it," he said, doing his best to bite back the 'I love you' that wanted to pour from his mouth.

"Oh. Good," Eddie said, relaxing. "Why are you out here getting wet then?"

"Just needed some air."

Eddie frowned.

"Are you feeling sick? I can drive us back, I only had one drink."

"No, no. That's not it."

"What is it then?"

And Steve couldn't lie to him. He couldn't look at the vulnerability in Eddie's eyes, and think about the way he just sang Steve's favorite song on stage in front of at least 50 people, and lie.

"Why did you sing that song?" he finally asked.

"What? Because you like it," Eddie said, looking down at his shoes.

"But...why? Why does it matter if I like the song you sing at open mic night?"

"Because I want you to like me."

His voice broke and so did Steve's heart.

Steve dropped the joint on the ground, closed the distance between them, cupped Eddie's face in his hands, and kissed him.

It was wet from the rain, wet from Steve's tongue.

Wet from the tears he hadn't realized were falling from his eyes.

When he pulled away, Eddie was staring at him with wide eyes, his lips red from the hard kiss.

"I love you, Eddie. Before the song, even."

"You-"

"Yeah."

"I think I blacked out."

"You didn't," Steve huffed a laugh.

"No I had to. Because there's no way you just said-"

"I did. I do. I love you."

"I just sang Tears For Fears in public for you. In front of people. On a stage. I think it's pretty clear I love you too," Eddie smirked.

They kissed again, for so long that their clothes were soaked through, long enough that Robin came to find them and yelled at them to get a room.

The back of Steve's car was good enough for now.

[lumiconic]

“ if you’d say you love me ”

✧ some way or another, every member of the global pop sensation 6REEZE has fallen head over heels for you.

✧ kunikuzushi, venti, kazuha, heizou, aether, xiao ; fluff, slight hurt comfort ; idol au ; not proofread

  the first to be sucked into your irresistible gaze is kunikuzushi, known as the main dancer kuni to 6REEZE’s devoted fanbase, STORM’S EYE. it’s almost funny, considering how kuni is known for being the sharpest and most angry member of the group, who dismissively flicks his hand at fans pleading for his autograph. somehow, it was always you who was able to see past his thorny exterior to the blazing passion underneath.

  as the group’s manager, you know almost everything about each of the boys, from their favorite colors to their most coveted dreams. only kuni refused at first to open up to you, calling it a waste of time because he had more important things to do than team-building. there were some tiny hints of disappointment on your face whenever he opted out of the group hangouts early, but you never forced him into anything, no matter how eager everyone else was.

  yet, there was some tiny part of him, buried far beneath, that almost wanted you to make him. to be given an excuse to learn more about you, and to be known as well as you knew the other boys. he never acted on it, and so it’s by complete chance the first time you show having knowledge of him beyond what he’s voluntarily shared.

  he was in the rehearsal room, packing up his bag and wiping the sweat off his brow after another long day of practice. while his singing and rapping skills were mediocre – for an idol, of course, which made them still far above average – he had been scouted solely for his skill at dancing and thus had to train much more in that area than any other. while it was his passion, he still found himself exhausted beyond belief at the end of the day.

  you opened the door without looking up, talking on the phone to someone about future marketing plans (i’m sorry, but if you want heizou to model that line then you need to take aether too because he doesn’t have enough deals yet). kuni cleared his throat.

  your head shot up and your eyes landed on him. “kuni!” you said, sounding surprised and ending the call with a tap of your finger. “oh, do you want this? here – ” you dug in your tote for a moment, then tossed a bottle to him. startled, he threw out his hands and almost fumbled the catch. 

  “ragnvindr energy?” he read the label out loud. the neon pink coloring on the plastic wrap almost hurt his tired eyes, but he was still able to discern the title. “what is this?” 

  “isn’t that your favorite brand?” you asked, sounding surprised.

  “yeah, but – how would you know that?” he said, the usual bite in his voice gone, replaced by confusion as he stared at the bottle. you tilted your head. “well, you bring it practically every day and keep it in your bag, so,” you shrugged, “i just noticed. that one’s my favorite, so i thought i’d have you try it too. which flavor do you like best?”

  there was some strange pulse of feeling through his chest at those words. that casual recognition, the easy way you stated that you had noticed something about him. that you were paying attention. He couldn’t explain why it felt so important. so heady and exhilarating in a way that almost rivaled the feeling of dancing.

  “green tea,” he said, without thinking. “the more bitter it is, the better.”

  you laughed, and he sucked in a breath. the sound was like – the first rays of light peeking over the horizon in the morning; like rain drumming on leaves in the midst of a storm. like music. so easily, he could be lost in that rhythm the way he gets swept into a song even in just the first few beats of an addictive melody.

  “green tea, huh. you aren’t supposed to have that much caffeine, but i saw how hard xiao was pushing you today.” you lifted your shoulders in a what can you do gesture, then pressed your index finger to your lips. “maybe try to drink more water in the future, but for now you definitely deserve this. let’s keep it our secret, okay?”

  “o-okay,” kuni stumbled over the word, surprise still freezing his wide-eyed expression in place, hating the choked breath lingering in his throat as you smiled back at him. a blush rose to his face at the sight, coloring the apples of his cheeks bright red. “thanks.” 

  “of course! once this next m/v comes out, you’ll have more room to breathe,” you said reassuringly. “just hold out til then.” he nodded, not trusting himself to speak without his voice cracking embarrassingly. what is this? [name] of all people, causing this reaction? get yourself together! they’re just your damn manager, not your – 

  he silenced his inner thought before it could finish that humiliating sentence.

  “well, see you later,” you said, waving goodbye and leaving the room as you tugged your phone out of your bag, already returning to your itinerary of plans to make. there was silence for a long moment, his eyes still focused sightlessly towards the door. kuni looked at the bottle in his hand, turning it over multiple times before unscrewing the cap, lifting it up, and dumping the whole thing over his head.

  he stood there for a moment, the smell of artificial sunsettia flavoring soaking through his hair and cool, sticky juice dripping down his cheeks, soaking into his long sleeved exercise shirt, and pooling at his feet, an speechlessly angry and dumbfounded expression on his face. the heat in his cheeks refused to dissipate. then he took a deep breath in, hoisted his bag over his shoulders, and headed for the showers.

  the second person to be enchanted by you is venti, the main singer, with a pleasant, boyish voice that can go unexpectedly deep and serious. considered immature and childish, he’s also the most rebellious of the group, in a way; the one who would disappear for hours at exactly the wrong times, fetching expensive gifts for the other members and interrupting meetings with the company heads to interject his own opinions on music and production.

  this was yet another day that he was spending doing the opposite of what he was meant to; visiting a local café, one of his personal favorites because of their cutely decorated cakes and lattes, wearing thick black sunglasses and a face mask.

  currently, he was hurrying away from the café, holding a bag with a small box of petit fours and a caramel-apple flavored special edition coffee, trying to lay out his plans for the rest of the day. i just need to get out of here, then i’ll get right back to the company and start practicing again. it’ll only be about ten minutes to go straight home, it shouldn’t take that long…

  “oh my god! is that venti?! like, from 6REEZE?!” 

  … damn it.

  “can i please get a photo? i love 6REEZE, i know all your songs! i have, like, every single photocard released since you debuted!” the nervous babble of the girl who spotted him was admittedly somewhat flattering. “h-hey, sure, a photo’s fine!” venti said, a dazzling smile leaping to his face as he bent slightly to make a peace sign at the camera. the girl clutched her phone in both hands as she took the photo, like it was a priceless item of some kind. 

  “oh, me too, please! you’re my favorite!” begged her friend, bouncing excitedly; her hysterical voice reached a new pitch as venti did finger hearts in her photo. “hey, what’s going on over there?” “what, is he some kind of celebrity?” voices began to bubble through the crowd at the noise, and soon enough, there was an entire group of people shoving up against him, asking for pictures and autographs and asking questions that he could barely hear. 

  panic was starting to burn in his chest, flustered words of hey, excuse me, i’ve really got to go spilling from his lips, with no end in sight to the mayhem. then, he spotted a familiar figure; you, hand shielding your eyes from the sun, peering out over the crosswalk for, presumably, him. your gaze lit on the commotion, and then on him. your jaw dropped slightly in surprise at the uproar being caused simply by his presence. 

  he made eye contact with you through the crowd, panic sparking in his eyes, an unmistakable help me forming on his lips. there was annoyance on your face, and for a second he thought you were going to leave, but instead you opened your mouth as wide as it would go and shouted, “HEY! IS THAT CHILDE FROM DCKZ?” pointing – somewhat unkindly – at a random passerby, a tall boy with bright ginger hair.

  screams rose from the crowd, the unique sound of teenagers seeing their favorite, most handsome celebrity crush, and in the following roar of sound as the poor boy was swarmed without warning, venti was able to slip away, flicking his sunglasses back down onto his face. 

  you met him in the center of the crosswalk, quickly starting to walk again. you chided him gently, smacking his arm with the back of your hand at his impulse to suddenly disappear, and he apologized, only sort of meaning it.

  “part of me is kinda annoyed that someone like childe would get more attention than me,” venti remarked wryly, hooking his mask with one finger and pulling it back over his face, careful to tuck his two toned braids into the back of his hoodie. “with his one-note singing, he shouldn’t have half the audience i do.”

  “sure, but don’t worry, that won’t last for long,” you said, your eyes sparkling with determination as you strode confidently through the streets; venti’s slightly shorter legs scrambled to keep up with your quick, assertive pace. “you’ll be a superstar someday. i’ve always been sure of it.”

  there was a sudden, strange feeling of a lump in his throat; his green eyes flickered to your back, the 6REEZE tour hoodie that you were wearing and its list of sold out dates written down the smooth, high quality fabric, and strange whispers of memory fluttered into his mind. a thousand days spent practicing, the moments right before rising onto the stage, his heart pounding so hard he could barely think and sick nervousness boiling in his stomach, rendering him almost unable to speak. and you, of course, holding out a water bottle, a sheet of lyrics, a helping hand, as always.

  his breath caught and a frantic whirl of thoughts spilled into his mind. the feeling that there’s something he was always overlooking before, something obvious that he never noticed even though it was right in front of his face, like he was missing something crucial, something so important that now that he had noticed its absence it was like a puzzle piece had been cut out of his still beating heart.

  wind blew past his face, and time seemed to slow down in the next second; you turned, a smile flitting to your lips and the words “hey, go a bit faster!” falling into the air as your hand flashed out, connecting the space between you, and grabbed his wrist. in that moment, there was no other way to describe you than… angelic, with golden sunshine drenching your face, your fingers cool against his skin, and he struggled, suddenly, to take air into his lungs.

  “anyway, what did you leave for?” you asked, abruptly breaking the spell. venti shook his head, disoriented. “w… what? oh – i,” he held up his paper bag sheepishly. “i wanted to get a coffee.”

  “oh? from where?”

  “just this café i like,” he said, almost embarrassed of the answer. “well, can i try something?” you asked. he fumbled in the bag for a moment before taking out a small pastry, a layered cube of strawberry shortcake. you popped it into your mouth and chewed for a moment, and he found himself holding his breath with the hope that you would like it.

  “wow, that’s really good,” you said with surprise. “can i come with you next time?”

  there was no excuse for the shot of adrenaline that rushed through him at the innocent question, and he was so thankful that you weren’t facing him as a giddy smile crossed his face. “sure thing!” he said, brightening, and quickened once more to continue in pace with you.

  the third person to melt into your fascinating mind is kaedehara kazuha, the songwriter of the group and main rapper; a fan favorite for his calm and relaxing exterior that belies a fierier soul underneath. it helped, of course, that he wrote extremely popular and romantic songs. you had a strong friendship with him, as he was the member you had known the longest, practically since he was a trainee and you were both much younger.

  right now, he was laying on the floor of your apartment and listening to a demo track of a new song, already planning the words to the sweet, delicate piano melody, while you sat on the couch scribbling in a spiral bound notebook, eyebrows knit in a concentrated expression. you heaved a sigh, ripping out a sheet of paper and crumpling it into a ball before tossing it on the floor frustratedly. kazuha paused the music. “what’s wrong?”

   “i’m just – trying to figure this out,” you sighed. “the words just won’t come to me.”

  “what are you writing?”

  “… poetry,” you said begrudgingly. when he laughed, hiding the surprised and excited thump his heart made when he heard that word, and then the following shock at those emotions, you threw a pillow at him. “stop it! you write this kind of thing too!” 

  “yes, but i get paid to do it,” he pointed out, refraining to mention that it was also his main pastime outside of his idol duties. “can i see it?” you shook your head instantly, and his lips tugged downwards into a frown. so, [name] writes poetry. what a coincidence. his eyes glittered, fixing his unhappy look on you.

  you closed your notebook and gave him a big smile, slightly pained in a way he could only recognize due to your years of friendship. “really, it’s just a hobby. it’s about time for dinner anyways. shall i start making something?”

  “no, show me,” he requested, tilting his head, dark red eyes locked onto yours. “please?” he wanted to see them so badly, a hint of desperation seeped into his voice. he almost cringed at that sound. but why was he so curious? of course, he inexplicably loved the idea that you had one of the same hobbies as him. composing poetry and songs? it was as if you were made to be together.

  he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, and tasted salt on his tongue for a second, the pain jolting him back into his right mind. partners, of course, is what he meant. friends. nothing more than that. how could he be having such stupid thoughts about you, his oldest friend? 

  your voice drew him into reality again. “okay, fine, just don’t judge me. it’s… really dumb,” you admitted, closing your eyes and cracking open the spine of the notebook. kazuha ran his fingertips over the paper, ridged with line after line of your cramped handwriting in thick ink. as he took in the contents of the pages, his eyes widened. this is…

  “a love poem?” he said aloud. you squeezed your eyes shut as he started to read the words halfway down the page. “… lost to me like dandelion fluff / i grasp for another handful / another breath, wishing for you cupped in my hands.” he rocked backwards, clapping his hand over his mouth not soon enough to muffle the laughter.

  your cheeks colored and you snatched the notebook back. “ugh, kazuha! get out of here! i didn’t even finish it yet!”

  “no, no! i’m not laughing at you!” he said, though he was a bit. such a tacky way of words, and yet… “it’s just so sentimental, i never would have expected this from you. it’s, sort of sweet.”

  “well, you never know,” you said, placated slightly by his words. “and anyway, i’d never show it to anyone but you. it’s just for fun.”

  you’d never show it to anyone but me? logically, he knew there were a thousand reasons for you to say that, ranging from him being another poet, to him being your close friend. and yet, he latched onto the one he wanted the most. 

  “who’s it for?” he asked, as casually as he could, as calmly and slowly as he could. as if there was no meaning behind that question at all. as if the idea that such a poem could maybe, possibly be for him didn’t make his heart explode into fireworks of joy, without him even knowing why. no, not quite; of course, he knew why. his job was writing love songs, anyway. he had just never thought that of all people, it would be you who caused these feelings he’d sang about a thousand times yet never experienced.

  “i’m not telling,” you said, sticking your tongue out childishly before looking embarrassed. his heart plummeted into his stomach. even though it was an answer to be expected. he couldn’t explain this crushing disappointment at your refusal to speak. “w-well, anyway… why don’t we go get something to eat now?”

  it was unmistakably an escape from a conversation you didn’t want to continue. yet, kazuha wanted to ask you to wait, so he could see another poem of yours. even if it led to heartache, he wanted to know so badly that it almost hurt. the possibility of you writing something like that for him was something he wanted more than anything in that instant. and yet…

  more than that, he wanted you to be comfortable around him. that was truly what he wanted most. so… “okay, sure,” he obliged, and you set down your precious notebook as the two of you stood to leave, him casting one more glance towards it and wondering after its tantalizing contents. 

  as you both stood in the elevator, waiting for its descent to the bottom floor, he turned to you. “hey, what was the name of that poem again?”

  “dandelions,” you said, another embarrassed flush tinting the tips of your ears. “it’s silly, but— ”

  “no, it isn’t. dandelions,” he repeated, the word tingling on his tongue. it felt like he was on the verge of something new, somehow, that familiar warm, sparking feeling he always got right before an idea for a brand new project. “i like it.”

  the next single is soon released, titled wishes in the breeze, a heartfelt ode laced with sugary-sweet declarations of love for an unknown person. you find a copy of the tape– its cover plastered with an image of the boys sitting together with their backs to the camera, kazuha in the middle, one eye showing as he turns his head– outside your apartment door; in the liner notes of the tape are shreds of a poem in red ink.

  the third to fall prey to your beauty is shikanoin heizou, the main visual and most outgoing, charismatic member of 6REEZE. of course, he’s quite talented as the other members, but his true strength is in his magnetic personality that draws in new fans almost every day. he always knows just what to say, a perfect comeback locked and loaded on his tongue and ready to burst no matter what the situation is.

  after wishes in the breeze won ‘best new pop song’ at a prestigious teyvat awards event, you and 6REEZE were invited to a celebration dinner with many other famous artists. heizou was standing with the other members and holding small talk with a punk-pop girl band trio that recently released an album that swept the awards, golden apple. 

  “heya, [name] just came in,” the shortest girl said, tilting her head towards the entrance. “ain’t  that ya manager, heizou?” he smiled instantly, and agreed, “ah, yes!” with a gleeful look on his face. “i wasn’t sure they were going to show up, they don’t usually like big crowds, but i guess this was too important of an opportunity to pass up.”

  he swiveled to greet you, hand already raising in a wave, and as his gaze landed on you, the world seemed to stop turning for a moment, the words falling out of his mouth and disappearing.

  highlighted underneath the dancing lights, there you were; in a forest green tuxedo, the silken material of your sleeves almost glowing as you rubbed the back of your neck nervously. your hair was styled in such a way that you looked like royalty, sweeping over your shoulders, and when you turned your head slightly and the bright color of your eyes was caught in the glimmer from the spotlights above, he could just feel his heart in his throat and the bittersweet taste of longing.

  heizou was unable to speak for a few seconds, almost unable to breathe. it was lucky for him that kazuha caught sight of you and waved you over, because he couldn’t get a single syllable out, let alone a greeting. you crossed the room to the small group.

  “how fancy,” kuni scoffed, sharp nose turned up as he jutted out his chin. “no wonder it took you so long to get here, primping like this.”

  you pulled at your sharp collar. “it’s a little stifling,” you said with just a hint of sweat to betray your flustered interior underneath your calm expression. “i don’t usually get dressed up like this, but… it’s for such a special occasion, and it’s a little fun too – ”

  “it looks amazing, [name]!” venti exclaimed, stars in his eyes as he grabbed your hand and pumped it up and down. “seriously, the best! you didn’t have to go so all out for us, we would have been happy with just a fancy sash or something,” he laughed. you accepted his handshake without a change of expression, as the other boys oohed and aahed dutifully.

  “i mean, come on! this is so fancy, i’m shocked to see [name] all dressed up and looking sharp! i wish we could see you like this more often,” venti continued, turning to look at heizou with a smile. “right?” 

  the question was surely meant innocently, as a query for the other contender for flirtiest member. it was most likely that venti had expected only a oh yes, it’s quite stunning, but not as stunning as [name]’s cute face by itself. but heizou had no smart remark, instead offering only a “yeah, it’s fine,” with a flat, unchanging face, before turning on his heel and practically running for the exit. “hey!” venti said, surprised, as if trying to call him back, but it was no use; the red-head boy was already out of earshot in a matter of seconds.

  “ah… ? heizou?” you said, taken aback as you watched heizou’s rapidly retreating frame. “did i… do something wrong?” a strange sadness seemed to fill your chest, and your hand fell away to rest limply by your side.

  pushing through the double doors, heizou finally managed to escape. he ducked around a corner, hunching over and staring at the floor, his breathing fast with exertion and agitation. “that’s… just not fair,” he mumbled into his hand, palm pressed to his mouth and face burning red. “to suddenly show up in something like that? it’s practically playing dirty… ”

  he sunk to the floor, getting dust on the legs of his suit, but he barely noticed, burying his face in his hands with only thoughts of you rushing through his head. he had no doubt the others were wondering after him, but there was no chance he could go back in his current state, barely able to think straight. 

  “man, [name]… you really are dreamy.” 

  though the mood of the celebration was dampened by heizou’s partial absence and your dejection, you managed to go to bed that night with a smile on your face due to the fun atmosphere and the others making a special effort to cheer you up. the next time you saw heizou, he presented you with a gift box tied in an intricate knot with a silk ribbon. inside, was a less formal version of that outfit, in a popular style that you could wear out on the street.

  “because you said you thought it was fun,” he says, tucking his hands behind his back to conceal their shaking. “i thought you would like something like this. to wear whenever you want. but if it’s too much, or silly, i – ”

  “i love it, heizou,” you say firmly, cutting him off. “thank you.” when you hesitantly pulled him into a hug, his arms came up automatically to wrap around your back, his breathing almost stopping with an nervous thrill that traveled up his spine. he wondered for a second if you could feel his heartbeat and how fast it was pounding inside his chest, before pushing the thought aside and letting himself just feel the warmth of your arms for that short moment.

  the fifth person captivated by your kindness is aether, the youngest member and the least experienced, with no solid lead position. every person in 6REEZE has their fair share of fans, but he had a noticeable lack of support compared to the others; the company that managed the group, SHOGUNATE ENTERTAINMENT, just seemed to have it out for him, barely giving him any solos or spending any time marketing him.

  of course, no one ever voiced their concerns at his treatment aloud, not when he seemed so truly optimistic. nobody wanted to be the person to make that grin disappear. spending all day, every day practicing, waving the others off when they asked him to take a break, every moment was dedicated to the betterment of his idol persona, never letting that golden smile drop from his face.

   it felt like it was a thousand degrees on the set of their next m/v, yet aether was still practicing, the sound of their upcoming release today and tomorrow blaring through his ears. it was the only song he had heard in at least a week, but he couldn’t take a break for even a second if he wanted to remember the whole thing without one mistake.

  when his twenty-third(? he lost count around number fifteen) runthrough of the song finally finished, leaving him kneeling on the floor, he shut off the music. in the silence of the empty room, there was some kind of pounding still echoing in his head, making it hard for him to think straight. as he rose to his feet, his vision blacked out for a moment.

  “aether, you’re still here?” said a sudden voice, laced with surprise. he looked up to find you, apparently having just entered and in the midst of rearranging a couple of set pieces. as your gaze traveled over him, your eyes widened slightly. “are you okay? you look so pale.”

  “yeah, ‘m fine, just – just tired,” he mumbled, swaying on his feet slightly. your worried expression swam before his eyes. “is it hot in here, or… ?” were his last words before he stumbled and fell, the ground rushing up to meet him faster than he could react with his exhausted, nonresponsive limbs, eyes closing and unable to think properly.

  huh… ?

  the world pulsed around him in blinking black dots. somehow, he hadn’t hit the ground yet. it felt wrong that he would still be falling; he forced his eyes open with great struggle, and found that you had caught him. how strange… why couldn’t i move… ?

  you gently lowered yourself to the floor, allowing him to rest his head against your leg. “aether,” you said, your voice pained and worried, “how hard have you been practicing? have you taken any breaks today?”

  “no, i was trying to learn the choreography without – ” the words caught in his dry throat, breath scraping painfully, and you looked even more worried as he coughed. “without pausing at all.”

  a tch sound escaped your lips, expression more concerned than he’d ever seen it before. “you must be so dehydrated.” you bit your lip. “aether, you know you’re just hurting yourself this way. this level of work… it’ll hinder your progress, rather than help it.”

  despite the discouraging nature of your words, it was gratitude for that acknowledgement, and some thick, warm emotion that brought a strange moisture to aether’s eyes. he tried to rub at his eyes, but his hand was shaking too hard. “no, i have to do this.”

  “why?” you demanded.

  he barely knew how to put it into words. “i’m just… the weak link,” he said, tears pricking for a moment before he blinked them away, one hand resting on his temples and shielding his face from your concerned gaze. “i’m not good at anything, so i have to practice and practice to make up for – ”

  “you’re not the weak link, aether,” you said firmly, your voice so kind and earnest that it almost brought tears to his eyes yet again. “you’re like – the glue, you can do everything perfectly well. there’s nothing wrong with not having a specialty. you work so hard, and always go out of your way to support everyone. don’t let me hear you talking like that, okay?”

  “but – ” he tried to protest, then almost melted underneath the force of your angry, anxious eyes. even with the embarrassment of being in this situation, there was some foreign ember of warmth in his chest that burned hotter with every word from you. he couldn’t explain it, but it was like hearing those things from you was rejuvenating somehow; soaking into his body and leaving him feeling looser, calmer in its wake. he didn’t know if it was because it was you specifically, and he was almost afraid to think about it. 

  “no buts!” you snapped. “i refuse to listen to you thinking this way about yourself. you’re incredibly capable and strong, and don’t you dare bottle this up and work yourself to the point of passing out again. i know you can do it, without punishing yourself for no reason. it’ll be okay.”

  “… okay,” he nodded. you pressed your hand against his forehead and winced. “you better not be getting sick. now go home and rest up. i don’t want to see you here again until tomorrow afternoon, got it?”

  you walked him to the exit, making sure he drank almost the entire contents of his water bottle, with orders to go to sleep extra early. yet, even with those directions, he tossed and turned almost all night, still feeling the force of your laser-hot gaze every time he closed his eyes. 

  the day filming started, there was no doubt in him that he could nail the entire choreography. even xiao commented on his movements seeming more sharp than usual, his voice more fluid as well. of course, there was a reason for that, but he would never have voiced it aloud that he wanted just one more second of your eyes on him. just one more word of praise that felt so much more real coming from you than anyone else.

  there was a six-second focus on him for the second chorus, and he poured all of his saved-up energy into that moment. “i want you here, i want you with me in my arms,” he sang, throwing his entire body into the next twirling movement, and pointed straight at the camera with the unfaltering wish that you would see and know he was speaking to you. “you’re my love, the one i’m wishing for, today, tomorrow, forever!”

  the sixth member of 6REEZE to love you is xiao, the center and leader of the group. though STORM’S EYE has no shortage of love for him due to his mesmerizing voice and mature good looks, he is the least social of the boys, known as ‘ice prince’ because he’s so aloof and cool at fan events. there is no one in public knowledge that he chooses to let his guard down around; even in vlogs, he barely socializes and keeps to himself, practicing or listening to music on bulky headphones.

  SHOGUNATE ENTERTAINMENT works mainly out of an enormous compound filled with training rooms and facilities for all of their groups and other productions. the residence reserved for 6REEZE is attached to it. technically, it could be shared by the group, but the only people who really live there are venti and xiao, and venti is almost always out on other business (or so he claims) anyway.

  the roof of the apartment has an amazing view of the entire city and the sky. it’s the perfect place to go when a break and fresh air is needed, meaning xiao can almost always be found there. and now, after an incident in which a very important standalone project where he was meant to collaborate with a girl group has been cancelled due to strong pushback from fans, he’s vanished, and you know exactly where he’s gone.

  watching the door still swinging shut from his sudden exit, president miko clicked her tongue carelessly. “ah, so immature. do you remember when we were young enough to be able to throw tantrums whenever things went awry, ei, dearest?” she tilted her head at the purple haired woman, who sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “we could secure another collaboration, but apparently not with any girl group. perhaps xing/yun or LUPICAL… ?” she mused. “could someone please go after him?”

  “i can – ” kuni volunteered, already raising from his seat, before you rocketed to your feet, pushing your chair in. “i’m on it! please email me your consensus later!” the other boys watched, taken aback, as you gave a hasty bow and practically sprinted out.

  you found him on the roof, of course, leaning over the balcony with a stony line to his jaw. you approached, and he raised his hand without greeting. “what happened back there?” you asked tentatively.

  “how can they take away an opportunity so selfishly?” he spat. you weren’t sure whether he was talking about the fans or SHOGUNATE ENTERTAINMENT, but nodded anyway. as the leader, he was naturally under the most stress, and when he got into a bad mood there was nothing to do but wait it out. 

  “i don’t know if i can do this anymore,” he said, feeling the smallest crack in his voice and dragging a hand down his face. “we’re always being watched, always having to obey stupid rules that don’t even make sense! this was an important collaboration, i’m not a commodity that will lower in value if i work with a girl! if our fans can’t handle us acting like normal people, they aren’t even our fans, are they?”

  “i know,” you said, trying to soothe him, placing a hand on his arm only for it to be shaken off. he glared out at the city for a moment, eyes focused above the horizon. “it’s just not fair,” you continued. “but xiao, there are alternatives – ”

  “i don’t want alternatives,” he interrupted, “i’m not sure if i even want to be an idol sometimes. all these rules are too much.” he turned and met your eyes. “and you know the worst one of all.”

  “of course i do.” you reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. “but are you serious about not wanting to be an idol? because, if you ever chose to leave the company, i… can also leave.”

  “you can’t put your career in jeopardy just for this.” he gave a frustrated huff. “this stupid company is just so stifling. i didn’t think being an idol would be like this when i first signed up.”

  “well, that’s why i’m here, right?” you offered. “to make your life easier. my career isn’t as important, so as your manager, i could – ”

  “you’re more than my manager.” his tone was gentler, the earlier roughness somehow melting away, and the words were quiet enough that nobody could possibly hear, meant only for you as he tilted his head, golden eyes finding yours. “you know that.”

  “xiao.” 

  “i won’t let you endanger your own job prospects if i leave.”

  you stared at each other for a moment. the wind stirred your hair around your face, framing it in the most beautiful way. his heart caught in his throat. the painful look of uncertainty mixed with determination that you wore was sure to be mirrored on his own face.

  “i would never stay here, without you,” you said finally, your voice tight. “i’ll go wherever you go.”

  he opened his mouth, unable to form words as a response to this, and you looked at him. there was nothing in your eyes but earnestness, and he thought for the millionth time how heart-stoppingly beautiful you were. he cupped your face with both hands, and there you were in silence for a long second, the cotton candy sunset gleaming down onto you.

  “[name],” was the word that finally escaped his lips, taking in your sweet scent that enveloped you like an angel’s aura. you wrapped your arms around his neck, murmuring xiao in the quietest voice, a secret that wreathed through the air, like smoke curling into a calm breeze. “i love you.”

  you kissed him, then; and when your lips met, he felt his worries melt away, and the overwhelming thought that he couldn’t care less if the whole world knew about your relationship; it was like he could feel everything, like he was frozen and time only started moving again when you were together. eternity could pass in a heartbeat and he would never know, not when he was holding you.

  whether 6REEZE was together or not, whether he stayed an idol, or the trifling problems of his everyday life – nothing like that seemed to matter when he was with you. it felt inconsequential. no matter what the company wanted from him, he could do it; as long as he could continue to kiss you like this, he would do anything in the world. 

© lumiconic ; please reblog and follow if enjoyed

[patchouliauthor]

Head Over Heels | Shawn Spencer X F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. Oral sex (M! receiving), unprotected p in v, sort of subby Shawn.

Word Count: 3060

A/N: This took me so long because I've been busy with school and work but it is finally here. Hope you guys love it!

Summary: You meet Shawn at a bar and hit it off quickly.

Finally, you were done with your thesis and the research needed to graduate with your masters in behavioral analysis. To celebrate, your friends brought you out to your favorite karaoke club.

You had the best friends in the world; Janine, Mikki, and their boyfriends Larry and Garrett. Janine and Mikki were your roommates in undergrad. 

Mikki brought many guys back to your dorm room during the years you lived together, and not one of them were good enough for her and you made sure they knew. Then one day she brought home Garrett, and you just smiled at him as he left. Janine however stayed with the first guy she dated, Larry. He worshiped the ground that Janine walked on, and so you were cool with him too.

The karaoke bar was packed, but you had a perfect seat to watch people go up there and try their hand at the karaoke machine. One poor, very drunk, guy walked up and started singing “Wheel in the Sky” by Journey, and you were afraid you were going to watch this man’s soul leave his body with the amount of force he was putting into it. 

“Why don’t you get up there and sing?” Larry asked you.

“No thanks!” You scoffed. You could carry a tune but you were not much of a singer, plus you had not nearly had enough alcohol to give you the confidence to go up there.

“Leave her alone Larry, we’re here to celebrate!” Mikki said.

You all took a shot of… something. It didn’t taste good but it wasn’t really supposed to. It burnt going down and you made a slight face, but it started to do the job almost instantly.

“So now that you’ve got your degree, are you looking to settle down?” Janine asked.

“Any cute boys?” Mikki followed up.

“Not at the moment, no.” You giggled. “Oh come on, there must be someone.” Mikki said.

“When the right guy comes around, you will be the first to know.” You said.

“Let’s drink to that.” Garrett said and you all took swigs of the drinks in front of you.

After about a half an hour of mediocre singing and too many drinks, they finally convinced you to go up there. You took a few seconds to pick the song until you found it. Head Over Heels by Tears for Fears. It was perfect. You pressed play and the familiar intro played. You heard the door open and you watched as two men walked in. One was bald, wearing a button up shirt tucked into khaki colored dress pants and nice shoes. The other had brown hair and a leather jacket on, and they both lit up as they heard what song was playing. Quickly, it was your turn to sing.

“I wanted to be with you alone…” You started. The men looked up at you in amazement. Maybe you were a better singer than you thought, or maybe you were just incredibly drunk. Either way, this song was going to get sung and it was going to be by you.

You kept singing, and the brunette man never took his steely gaze off of you.

“Something happens and I’m head over heels. I never find out, ‘til I’m head over heels.” You sang loud and clear. He smiled.

When the song wrapped up, not only your table of friends applauded loudly, but so did many others in the bar, including the leather jacket wearing mystery man.

When you came down from the stage, you saw the man watching you the whole way to your table. You knew you had to talk to him, and as soon as your friends saw who you were looking at, they agreed.

“Go over there!” Janine said.

“I swear Y/N if you don’t go over there I will.” Mikki said, much to the dismay of Garrett.

You giggled and then walked towards him just to go past him and go to the bar; you do not chase men. Luckily, he apparently does the chasing and meets you at the bar.

“You sounded great up there. You a big Tears for Fears fan?” He asked.

“Oh I love them. I would play their CD’s while studying all the time. My favorite CD is Songs from the Big Chair.” You answer. 

“Mine too. My name is Shawn. Shawn Spencer.” He said.

“My name is Y/N. Nice to meet you.” You said.

You small-talked for a while, finding out the man with him is named Gus, despite Shawn attempting to give him a fake name. You also found out they work for and run a psychic detective agency. That made you laugh.

“What’s so funny?” He asked.

“You? You’re a psychic?” You asked.

“Is that so hard to believe?” He asked back.

“I mean, you don’t strike me as the ‘psychic’ type.” You said with air quotes.

“Here let me show you.” He said.

“You just finished your masters degree… that’s why you're here… you’re celebrating.” He said.

“Not bad.” You said, not quite impressed yet. “What’s my degree in?” You asked.

“My first assumption is being drop dead gorgeous, because it seems like you are an expert in that field. My second guess however, behavioral analysis.” He said.

“Wow. Color me impressed.” You said back. “One final question. Are you an Aries?” You asked.

“I am. How did you know?” He asked.

“You tell me. Maybe I’m a little psychic. Or maybe it’s hyper-observation, my masters degree, and a lucky guess.” You said.

He laughed. “Could I perhaps get your number?”

You looked over at your table to see Mikki and Janine staring at you. You held back a giggle as you wrote it down on a napkin and handed it over.

You strutted away to your table with your drink in hand. Your friends could barely hold back their excitement when you sat down and started smiling at them.

“So?” Janine asked.

“Are we the ‘first to know?’” Mikki asked, quoting you from earlier.

“You may just be.” You said.

~

Meeting up with Shawn became a pass-time. He often ran into you, claiming it was “fate” or “psychic abilities.” You still weren’t sold on the idea of being psychic. Everything you learned for your degree told you that he was probably just hyper-observant, but his skills prove to be almost superhuman sometimes. Maybe he was a lab experiment gone wrong. Or maybe it had something to do with his dad that he never talks about fondly. 

You learned a lot about him and he learned a lot about you too, and you found yourself falling for him. He was funny, quick-witted, had amazing but also questionable music taste, and was unfortunately incredibly good-looking.

He did seem to be sort of a womanizer, but you couldn’t blame him. You were also a sort of player, when you had time to be. In undergrad you broke many hearts, but once grad school started you didn’t have time for games, and you hoped that those days were over. You had a feeling that the games were just started now that you are getting involved with Shawn Spencer, but you still wanted to give it a try.

You got a call from Shawn while you were watching the channel 8 news.

“Hello?” You picked up.

“The owner did it.” He said. You were watching a report about a robbery at a local store. How he knew that you were watching the news, you didn’t know, but you had gotten used to that.

“Did the eye contact avoidance give it away to you too?” You asked him.

“You are good. Almost as good as me.” He said.

“Well I do have a degree.” You joked.

“You do indeed. Now, what would you say to a ride on my motorcycle and dinner under the stars?” He asked.

“I’d say that’s too good to be true. When do I need to be ready?” You asked back.

“Um, now?” He said.

You looked out your window and saw Shawn parked by your apartment building with a bouquet of flowers. 

“Be right out.” You said.

~

Shawn drove you to a beautiful clearing a bit out of the city on his bike. The sun was just setting and it made the whole area golden, including Shawn. He grabbed your hand and began walking towards the center of the clearing. Once you were past some of the higher grass, you saw a picnic basket and a big blanket, complete with two glasses and a big bottle of rosé.You chuckled thinking about Shawn buying what appeared to be an expensive bottle, and immediately realized it was probably with the help of Gus and his credit card. You made a mental note to get Gus a gift in return for Shawn spending his money.

Shawn led you to the blanket and then sat down, opening the picnic basket and pulling out all of your favorite picnic foods. You try to recall telling him your favorite foods, but you can’t. He’s either a really good psychic or an incredibly good stalker. You didn’t think too hard on that last thought as he looked up at you smiling. He took the glasses and poured you some of the champagne. You took a sip and let the alcohol burn your throat.

You didn’t talk much, just occasionally cracking jokes, taking sips, and picking at the food he brought. You rarely ever felt as content as you did in Shawn’s presence.

“You are so beautiful.” Shawn said, barely above a whisper while you were looking at the stars that recently became visible.

You turned to look him in the eyes to find he was looking at your lips. You hadn’t kissed him yet but god did you want to. It’s not that he hadn’t tried to before, because he had, you just wanted to play hard to get. You knew that tonight that you didn’t have that resolve.

He smiled as he lifted his eyes to meet yours. You were suddenly aware of how close he was; you could smell the mint toothpaste and rosé on his breath. 

“Please.” Is all he could muster to say, and with that single syllable your lips were on his. It was a sweet kiss, so sweet you wished it was your first kiss ever. His lips brushed over yours so gently you were afraid he was going to pull away. Instead, he leaned in further and deepened the kiss. His hand reached up to the back of your head to pull you even closer to him. You obliged, scooting closer on the picnic blanket and knocking over your half full champagne glasses onto the grass.

You reached up to place your hand on the back of his head. You couldn’t help yourself and you tugged lightly on the short hairs on the nape of his neck. At the feeling, he whimpered the slightest bit. To try and cover it up he lightly pushed you until you were on your back and he was hovering above you.

“That was a dirty move.” He said as his lips moved down to your neck teasingly. You tried to keep your composure but his words made you squirm a little and you felt him smile against the skin of your neck.

Things quickly picked up speed, and as he feverishly kissed your lips he put his knee in between your legs at the perfect spot. You did your best to rub against his knee without him noticing, but you failed. He pulled away from you.

“Tsk. Naughty, naughty.” He said, smirking.

“Shawn, please.” You said, frustration evident.

“Oh, poor thing. Do you want to fuck you right here in the field?” He said, mocking you. You moaned at his words. 

“No. I want our first time to be special. Get up.” He said and quickly got off of you. You just blinked at him in surprise and didn’t move. He reached a hand out to you. “Come on, I’ll take you back to my place.”

You reached up to grab his hand and he pulled you to your feet. He kept hold of your hand and started walking towards his bike.

“What about the picnic stuff?” You asked.

“Do you really care about that right now?” He asked back.

You smiled at him before shaking your head no. He smiled back and started pulling you towards his bike. You weren’t certain in the dark, but when he turned it looked like his jeans were becoming a little too tight for his comfort. 

Once you were both on the bike, he began flying towards his apartment. It was so fast but not fast enough, and you were needing more friction to soothe the problem Shawn had started. You tried to secretly grind down on the motorcycle seat. It was helping but not enough, so you began to pick up speed. Your breath was getting funny at the contact, and it was moments before Shawn noticed.

He didn’t stop you. Something about you getting off on his bike was making him go feral. He even fantasized about fucking you over top of it while you wore his leather jacket. He needed you as much as you needed him. It was then you both looked over and realized you were about to pass the Psych office. As much as he wanted to make your first time special, he had to have you right then and there, so he pulled over and hurried to the door, leaving you on the bike. You followed right behind him as he fiddled with the key to the door. 

He unlocked the door and pushed you inside, immediately finding your mouth with his in the darkness. He shut and locked the door behind him without ever leaving your skin. Your lips never left his as you both walked back until your knees hit the leather couch by the window and you sat back onto it. His lips left yours and he yanked his shirt over his head swiftly before returning to you. As you kissed him you fiddled with his belt until you were able to pull his pants down, showing off the tent in his boxers. You didn’t give him time to think before you yanked his boxers down, showing off his large cock.

“Woah, slow down.” He whined. “You’re still fully clothed.” 

You didn’t care, and you reached to grab his length, pumping him up and down. He threw his head back. You loved to see him like this, and while he was blissed out from the pleasure your hand was giving him, you put your mouth on him. 

“Oh Jesus, doll. You’re gonna kill me.” He said.

You bobbed up and down on his length, and what you couldn’t fit you stoked with your hand. He grabbed your hair back into a ponytail while you pleasured him, reaching your other hand down to rub yourself through your jeans.

“You feel so good.” He choked out. You could tell that he was resisting the urge to fuck your mouth. You released him with a pop and pumped him with your hand, feeling the wetness from your mouth and the precum leaking from his tip.

“I need you so bad.” He said, pupils blown out with lust.

“Come and get me.” You said back.

Wrong thing to say.

You had never had your clothes taken off of you so fast in your life. In seconds you were completely naked, on your back with him hovering over top of you. He lined himself up with your entrance before looking into your eyes.

“Tell me to stop.” He said.

“I can’t.” You said back. He gave you a swift kiss and then rested his forehead on yours as he pushed himself into you. You moaned in harmony with him. He waited for you to adjust to him before he moved.

“Just tell me when, sweetheart.” He said. You couldn’t make out words so you kissed him to signal you were ready.

He pushed in and out of you slowly, filling you up with each stoke. He was taking his time with you, savoring the moment of you under him on the leather couch. Everytime he comes back to work he's going to think of you taking his cock right here.

He started to speed up and you moaned. “Kiss me.” You said and he obliged. As he filled you up below, his tongue explored every inch of your mouth. Both of you were sweating, moaning messes.

You could feel yourself getting so precariously close to the edge. You knew you only needed a little bit more to get you there. It was at this moment that Shawn reached down and starting rubbing circles on your clit, adding just the right amount of pressure. How did he know that was what you wanted so badly? Maybe he is psychic. The way he touched you exactly where you wanted without you having to say a word made you think he just might be.

You were thrown headfirst over the edge. The feeling was so good you thought you might cry. His hips faltered as he pulled out of you clumsily, releasing all over your stomach. Before he got too soft, he shoved himself back into you and rested his head on your shoulder. You both panted as you came down from your highs.

“I’ve wanted to do that since I saw you at the karaoke bar.” He said, still out of breath.

“Well after tonight, I think you’ll have many more chances to do it again.” You said and smiled. He returned your smile.

“Do you think we should probably leave now so we don’t forget to by the time Gus comes in in the morning?” You asked.

“That is the first time someone has mentioned Gus right after having sex.” He said.

“Shawn.” You said laughing.

He laughed too and got up to find something to clean you off with. After he cleaned you up, you both got dressed and rode back to his apartment, where he got to go at you all over again. You knew that no matter what, you would never forget your time with Shawn in the Psych office, mostly because he’d always be there to remind you of it.

[sopestvr]

(BM) MATTHEW KIM.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“YOU’RE CUTE WHEN YOU BLUSH.”

𓈀﹟★̶̲ 𓍢 ⋆⠀somin brings you along to what she simply called a “car show”, yet you found yourself looking at much more than cars.

†⠀warnings y disclaimers — fem!reader. streetracer!au. fluff. teasing. poking fun at matthew for being a simp. the entirety of KARD doing likewise. swearing. sort of. no smut at all cause my step brothers name is mathew and ew gross no. wc : 1k

♱⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀BLARING MUSIC was never really [Y/N]’s thing, not her forte. I’m lying, yes the fuck it was. Ear bleeding and boisterous songs were everything she ever loved. Whether she was at yet another rave party, or simply just folding laundry in her apartment with nothing but a robe and headphones on.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀So, when she waltzed into a car show party alongside her good friend Somin, the uproarious melodie’s that would burst a normal person’s eardrums were nothing to the lady. Quite frankly, she was pleased by them. Especially the bass, oh did the woman love her a good bass.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀With her and Somin’s arms interlocked, the two young women made their way into the crowd that engulfed the duo like water to a puddle. Their matching heels clacked diligently against the rugged cement floor, [Y/N]’s eyes wandering about whilst she took in her surroundings that practically suffocated her.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀There were bright lights that hung from above, speakers ricocheting off the building walls from within the trunk of cars, the intoxicating smell of alcohol burning through her nostrils. Everything that surrounded the woman brought nothing but joy to her, a lingering smile glistening all over her face as she allowed Somin to guide her through the horde.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“C’mon I have a friend that I want you to meet.” the woman winked in [Y/N]’s direction, ushering her roommate towards the grouping of cars that were aligned with one another up ahead.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Each one of them were plastered with a different car wrap design that prominently stood out from the rest. They were each unique to the varied men that stood confidently by their vehicles, women wrapped around them with fingers trailing all over their bodies. They were like two ends of a magnet pulling together, each of them all over one another.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Most of the men were far too mediocre for [Y/N]’s peculiar taste. They all had the same style, fake accent, fake chains, and even the same side swoop haircut. The woman thought it was undeniably tacky and boring. Practically none of them caught her eye.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Almost none expect for one.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀He was a broad shouldered man who stood tall and loosely against his bright green 1970 Dodge Challenger R/T. The neon lights displayed saturated hues along his smooth skin, yet the man’s entire attention was only focused on his phone. He paid no mind to the assortment of beautiful women who surrounded him, attempting to grasp his attention.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀A vague ‘hm’ tumbled from [Y/N]’s mouth as she observed the sight, realizing that Somin was bringing her towards the man all the while. He had matching green hair that was slicked back, a couple tiny strands curling against his forehead. If not for his car that the woman oh so admired, her eyes would’ve stuck to him like glue.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“Yo, Matt! I got somethin’ for you!” Somin hollered mediocrely, her voice alone pulling the man from his device screen as he gazed up in her direction.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Once his chocolate colored eyes landed on Somin, a sly grin marred his previously grimaced face, nodding at the woman. He was about to return back to whatever activities he’d been doing on his phone when he made eye contact with [Y/N] for nothing more than a millisecond. The man was simply just trying to look at his device, yet the moment he realized there was someone walking alongside Somin, he snapped his head back up in an instant.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀His eyes resembled much of a puppy, the way he gazed at [Y/N] who’d been laughing with Somin whilst the pair neared Matthew. Once he took in her appearance, he couldn’t pull them away, scrambling to stand up straight. Only, when he did that, he realized just how tall the woman actually was.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀It was evident she towered over Somin, yet the man hadn’t realized she did likewise to him as well. A hesitant gulp was pulled from deep within his throat, the air around him suddenly becoming a little warm.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“Ay, eyes over here buddy.” Somin snapped at the man, pulling him from his trance as he shook his head ever so slightly.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“N/N this is my good friend Matthew Kim. BM for short. And, Matt, this is my girl friend Y/N.” Somin introduced the two, both of their eyes already interlocked with one another.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀[Y/N] displayed none other than a swift snarky grin, her top row of teeth briefly tugging in her bottom lip. However, Matthew on the other hand, couldn’t help himself but hold an admirable expression all over. It was almost as if he was at a loss for words, which [Y/N] thought was absolutely and undeniably adorable.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“And what does BM stand for?” [Y/N] inquired, her interest piquing at the mention of a particular nickname.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“Big!” Matthew blurted out of random, earning an eyebrow raise from [Y/N] whilst her grin broadened.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“Big Matthew. God this fuckin’ idiot…” Somin pressed her fingers against her middle of her eyebrows, an exasperated sigh falling from her lips at Matthew’s incompetence.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She knew he was dumb, just not that dumb.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀[Y/N] couldn’t help but snicker to herself. Matthew all too entranced by the sounds. Never in his life would he have guessed he’d be so enthralled by a woman he’s barely even met. Yet, there was something about her that he couldn’t put his finger on. Not at the moment, at least.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“Oh? Is it just ‘cause you’re tall, or.. is for something else?” The woman smoothed out her sly smirk, tilting her head at Matthew who was stunned by her statement, a light pink tint shading his face.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Somin laughed at the man’s expression, bending over a bit whilst she held her stomach. Soon enough others joined them and began poking fun at Matthew’s expression.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀[Y/N] didn’t mean to cause such chaos but it sure was funny watching the man get made fun of by women that were half his size. The way the redness that conveyed across his cheeks only got worse the more they pushed him around was everything.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ “You’re cute when you blush.” [Y/N] added to the fun, the rest laughing at how Matthew had to cover his face that time, turning around completely with his friend wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

© SOPESTVR — do not steal my works. all rights reserved.

[robinismywife]

𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐬 (p1)

PAIRING: A!Elvis or (real)Elvis x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Elvis was done with making movies. However, when his manager approached him with another movie contract he couldn't resist. Especially, since Y/n Y/l/n is involved...

WARNINGS: Sexism, inaccurate info about the filming of Blue Hawaii..If I missed any don't hesitate to tell me!

A/N: This will be a small series because I couldn't fit everything into only one oneshot! I'm not so sure how I feel about this but I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments! Lots of love <33

(the gif is not mine but omg look at this man I-)

Elvis kind of liked making movies. He had his fun on the set and met some of the best people. However, the dissapointment was always present when the script landed in his hands. Same old story: boy meets girl, boy falls for girl, gets the girl and marries her. Not to mention the mediocre songs he had to sing in almost every single shot. It all got draining after the third one.

So, when the Colonel came up to him with another movie contract, he couldn't help but audibly groan. This was it, the rest of his life, a vicious never-ending cycle of absolute torture and movie scripts. He wanted to scream and cry like a child, take the script that the Colonel was holding and tear it to pieces. For obvious reasons, he couldn't do that, so he chose to start pasing around Graceland's living room.

"I've done six pictures Colonel," Elvis tried to negotiate with his over-enthusiastic manager "I-I-I think it's time I focus on my music, ya know?"

"Whatever you want, my boy, however," That's how it always went "You're going to regret turning this one down, if you decide to do so"

"Is that so?" Elvis was unimpressed, how special could this film be?

"Why would I lie to you, my boy?" You got your reasons, Elvis thought but still shrugged, waiting for the Colonel's answer

"First of all, this will be filmed in Hawaii and-"

"I've been there at least five times" He was starting to get angry at his manager, who was struggling to excite him.

"Well, have you been to Hawaii with Y/n Y/l/n? Cause I don't think you have" The look in the man's eye was umatched. Elvis's jaw dropped slightly and the Colonel looked satisfied with himself.

"Y-Y-Y/n Y/l/n?" Elvis's pasing stop abruptly. There it was, the catch. This is why the Colonel was so eager to put him on that castlist. He could feel his heart beating out of his chest.

"The one and only, my boy" The colonel played around with his walking stick

"She was in East of Eden" Elvis mumbled to himself, recalling how many times he had watched that film, but somehow the Colonel heard him.

"Mhmm- With that James Dean you like so much"

"Yeah- I-I-I- She- She wants to be in a movie with me?"

"Oh, yes, my boy, she requested it, in fact" The colonel got up with difficulty, a smirk still plastered on his face

"Ain't no way.."

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

The first day on set was chaotic, Elvis expected this though. The crew was running around and testing all their equipment, while the actors found themselves in makeup chairs, re-reading their lines. Elvis could not believe that he was doing this, starring in a film with one of the most famous actors in Hollywood. Y/n was what every actor aspired to be. She was literally best friends with Marilyn Monroe, having starred in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes with her. Y/n was a few years older than him and so experienced and so very terrifying.

Elvis raised his head as someone walked into the makeup and hair room. It was her, in all her glory. Despite the fact that it was 7am, she was there wearing her pearls and red lipstick, heels clicking on the linoleum flooring.

"Good morning, Miss Y/l/n" Barbara, the hairstylist, said as she finished up Elvis's hair, then yelled towards the backroom "Jackie! Mr.Presley is ready for makeup!"

Elvis winced a little as the woman screamed over his head, but reminded himself that he had to stay as professional as possible. If Y/n told anyone anything remotely bad about him, his career would be over before he knew it.

"The humidity here in Hawaii is absolutely killing my hair" Y/n spoke as she sat down on the chair next to Elvis. He didn't know whether she expected him to answer or not, so he played it safe and kept focusing on the line he had already read twice.

"If this is how your hair looks dead, sugar, I wonder how it looks like when it's alive" Barbara smirked, playing around with Y/n's hair. Elvis figured that Barbara and Y/n had worked together in the past, because the stylist surely wasn't as friendly with him.

"Oh stop it, Barbie-" Y/n giggled, looking unexpectedly shy but still continuing the conversation "You know, the stylist on my previous film almost fried my hair off- I tell ya, there's no one who does my hair like you do"

"It's called professionalism, angel-" Barbara stopped talking to check her watch, sighing dramatically "Oh goodness, I need to head to the back and see what Jackie's up to- That woman is all over the place" She said distastefully, leaving Elvis alone with Y/n.

Y/n casually grabbed a magazine from the vanity in front of her and leaned back in her chair. Elvis couldn't help but envy her confidence. He looked like a lost child on every set, even though he had done one too many movies already. He should be accustomed to this whole ordeal, but yet he isn't. Of course, that's why he became a singer in the first place, he belonged on a stage not in film studios.

"Not going to introduce yourself to me, are you?" Y/n spoke up, not bothering to look at him. Perhaps the dress on the magazine was far more intressing.

"I think there's no need for that" Elvis told her, with a new found confidence. He hated being talked to in that way, as if he wasn't even worth looking at.

"Of course there isn't, Mr.Presley" She rested the magazine on her lap as she turned her head to finally meet his eyes "I simply thought you'd have the common decency to do so, is all"

"Interesting" He mumbled, not helping the way his brows furrowed in irritation. Y/n was trying to mess with him, though he didn't know why.

"Indeed, Mr.Presley" Y/n nodded, grabbing the magazine once again "I just hope you haven't misunderstood your being here"

"What do you mean exactly?" Elvis never expected his first encounter with Y/n to go like this, but he coudn't help the way his blood had started to boil.

Before she could answer, the two stylists came out of the backroom. Elvis saw Y/n smirk with satisfaction, while she resumed flipping through the magazine.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

"Alright everyone! Almost always true scene! Take 3! And...Action!"

"I missed you Miley" Elvis said, looking lovingly at Y/n and trying to forget how angry she'd made him just an hour prior. Elvis had to show her that he was on this set for a reason, that he was good at this.

"I missed you too-" Y/n told him sweetly as she pretended to drive "What were you doing all that time while I was missing you?"

"Being true to you?" Elvis hid behind his hat, just like the director had told him to do.

Y/n pushed his hat down playfully "Always?"

"Almost always"

"You mean to tell me-!"

"I was always, baby I was always

Well almost always true to you..." Elvis began singing and dancing around in the car.

The scene felt like it went on forever and having to sing the same lyrics over and over again felt like a punishment that Elvis was sure he didn't deserve. Even so, the director was finally heard from the distance and the cameras stopped rolling.

"Great work everyone!" The director spoke into the megaphone. Then proceeded to walk towards Elvis and Y/n, who were quick to create a distance between each other when they got out of the fake car.

"Elvis, Y/n, how are you getting along?" The man looked at the two actors.

"We're having a wonderful time, Norman" Y/n spoke, smiling wide at the man before her "I'm sure that we'll work extremelly well together for the next couple of months"

Elvis was left impressed by the woman's interpersonal skills. The way she was able to change the topic and completely charm her boss.

"Couldn't agree with you more, Mrs. Y/l/n, couldn't agree more" Norman patted the woman's cheek slightly, and before Elvis could say anything, he was already making his way towards the cafeteria with the rest of the crew. Y/n chuckled a bit after seeing Elvis's expression of pure shock.

"What are ya playing at, doll?"

"Me?" Y/n grinned as she also started making her way towards the buffet "I'm just doing my job, Elvis"

"So that's your job?" Elvis's voice was dripping with sarcasm "And here I was thinking it was acting"

"And that's how I know that you haven't a clue what Hollywood is like, Mr. Presley" Y/n stopped walking, her playfull demeanor shifting to a more austere one, as she looked up at him.

"Are you kidding me? I've done six pictures and-"

"I don't mean making movies, love, I mean Hollywood, the industry" Y/n talked with a hint of sadness in her voice, still she couldn't help the bitter chuckle that erupted from her throat "But you could never understand. You're a man, you don't have the need to charm anyone in your workplace-"

"Well, why do you have the need to do so?" Elvis felt kind of bad for being so agressive, now that he was looking at her dissapointed face.

"Elvis, these directors and producers, they don't want me for my skills, they want me for my body and my looks. So, I might as well use that to my advantage and give them the sweet, dumb woman they expect- And, well, if they take a liking in you, you've secured a year's worth of movie contracts. Now, If you don't mind.." And she walked away, leaving Elvis dumbfounded. While he watched her, the Hollywood Queen he saw in magazines started looking more like a young woman, who was trying to make the most of what she had. Just like him.

[celestiall0tus]

Miraculous Salvation - Chapter 15 - Bored

Beginning || Previous || Next

            Tikki stared blankly at the TV screen. She huffed and turned it off, bored of the color vomit and repetitive songs. She floated around the house. Juleka and Adrien were still gone, leaving her with Luka. She checked on him, but he was in the same spot as he always was. She growled as she flew over and removed his earbuds. He blinked and looked at her.

            “Is everything alright?” Luka asked.

            “I’m bored!”

            “What happened to the show I put on for you?”

            “What part of bored do you not understand?”

            “Well, what do you want to do?”

            Tikki grinned. “I want to go out.”

            “Why don’t you then?”

            Tikki deadpanned. “It’s more fun with a companion, i.e. you!”

            “Do I have to?”

            Tikki’s eye twitched as her grin turned manic. She hovered above Luka’s work and glared at him.

            “That’s funny, really. You know, I could go out on my own. Perhaps I’ll leave you here in a creative stupor, unable to make your mediocre, subpar, works that not even a scam artist would use. That would make it even better.”

            Luka let out a frustrated sigh. “Fine. Let’s go.”

            Tikki cheered. She flew away from the desk and transformed into a human teen girl with tan skin and black hair pinned up in massive curly pigtails tied together with red ribbons that stood up like antennae. She wore a short, red halter dress with a black section around her chest and dots that lined her under bust, waist, and hem of the skirt. Black gloves with a single red ring at the top of them covered both hands. She had on a pair of red platform dress shoes and black crew socks with a red ring at the top. She looked back at Luka with bright purple eyes.

            “C’mon, let’s go! We have a whole city to cause trouble in.”

            Luka rushed after Tikki as she galloped out. He caught up with her as they reached the ramp to the streets.

            “Hold up, I have questions,” Luka said.

            “Then you can ask while we walk. Just don’t expect the answers you want,” Tikki warned.

            “How are you able to look like this? Human, I mean.”

            Tikki giggled. “You sure you want to tackle this subject out here? Who knows who’s listening.”

            “Do you care?”

            “No, but as long as you don’t mind. We aren’t as limited as you might think. There’s a lot that we can do. So much that this is just a mere fraction of our powers.”

            Luka hummed. He watched as the crowd they surfed through parted ways before Tikki as she danced and jumped about. They shot her glances before they looked at him. He flinched under their judgement glances.

            “Can’t you act a little normal?” Luka asked.

            “Geez, you’re such a stiff. I wish you were more like Juleka. At least she knows how to live. Oh! Why don’t we go find her?”

            Luka huffed and messaged Juleka. “I know how to live, just so you know.”

            Tikki giggled. “You’re funny.”

            “I’m serious.”

            Tikki laughed. “See? Hilarious.”

            Luka looked at his phone. Juleka responded immediately, saying that they were heading to a nearby café with Marc to chat and unwind.

            “Juleka’s nearby at a café.”

            Tikki stopped and heel turned, facing Luka. “Café? As in sugary sweets and all that good stuff?”

            “Yes?”

            Tikki beamed. “You are now my map. Let’s go!”

            Tikki scooped up Luka and held him over her head. Luka protested as he flailed about, but she kept her hold on him. He attempted to argue, but she ignored him as she asked for directions. He gave them as he felt all eyes on them. His face flushed as embarrassment encumbered him. He didn’t like this feeling. He didn’t like all eyes on him like this. He shut his eyes tight, wanting it all to end.

            “We’re here! We’re here!” Tikki cheered.

            Tikki dropped Luka on his butt and ran inside. Luka took several deep breaths before he stood. He felt lingering eyes on him as he headed inside. He cringed seeing Tikki dancing around the others with all eyes on her. He stepped back to retreat, but she charged towards him, pulling him over to the display cases. He frowned as he felt all eyes on him again.

            “How’d you get him out of his room?” Juleka asked.

            “Huh? Oh. I’ll tell you, but you need to do something for me,” Tikki said.

            “Which treat do you want?” Juleka asked.

            Tikki grinned. She let go of Luka and took Juleka’s as they browsed the pastries. Adrien and Marc approached Luka. Luka looked at them, then looked away with a slight blush.

            “Why are you dressed like that?” Luka asked.

            Marc looked away while Adrien shrugged.

            “Is there a problem?” Adrien asked.

            Luka didn’t answer. He could feel eyes on them as he heard the whispers surely directed towards them.

            “It is a little… uncomfortable,” Marc whispered.

            “What is?” Adrien asked.

            Marc’s eyes darted to the patrons. Adrien glanced over and raised a brow.

            “Don’t like the attention?”

            Luka and Marc shook their heads. Adrien frowned, then smiled. He opened his mouth to speak, but Tikki tackled Luka.

            “Man, you’ll never be a star if you don’t get over that, Luka. Granted you need to make better pieces than whatever you want to call those half-baked compositions,” Tikki remarked.

            Luka flinched and stared at the ground.

            “That wasn’t very nice,” Adrien pointed out.

            “The truth often isn’t, but someone had to say it,” Tikki countered.

            “You could have said it nicer,” Adrien spat.

            “Oh. Someone’s getting spicy. What’s caught your tail, Kitten? Did I say something about the piece of cardboard that offended you? Tell me, Kitten, is there something I would love to know?” Tikki mused.

            “Just that you can say the truth in a nicer way that doesn’t hurt someone’s feelings. Luka is just starting out, but he will get better. And with the endless work he puts in, he’ll succeed. But not with your nasty remarks.”

            A small smile tugged at Luka as his heart beat faster and his mood lifted. He stole a glance at Adrien, then looked back at the ground when Tikki looked at him.

            Tikki hummed. “That’s cute and all, but I don’t believe in sugar coating things like that. Your kind may prefer it, but the way we see it, it’s just another form of deception. And I know someone here would agree with me.”

            Tikki looked over at Marc. He flinched at her gaze. She smiled seeing an invisible fox kwami floating around him. Her smile twisted into a malicious smirk, then a big grin.

            “Awe! Look at you! Aren’t you the most adorable boy I’ve ever seen!” Tikki cooed. She bounded over and lifted Marc up.

            Marc’s breath caught as he heard the new whispers of the patrons. They questioned what Tikki said. They wondered if he was really a boy, questioned his mental state, and gossiped how could a young man be comfortable wearing girl’s clothes in public. A few laid the blame for the group he was with, saying the girls likely forced him to wear such clothes. The barest of whispers slipped through that remarked how he must have been born wrong, how his mother must have wanted a girl and forced him into such attire and sneered that he must be one of the “queers.”

            “P-p-please put me down,” Marc begged.

            “Awe, do I do have to? You’re just so cute! Like a lovely little doll to dress up in the prettiest of clothes. Would you like that? I bet you would,” Tikki remarked.

            Adrien grabbed Tikki’s shoulder. “Put him down!”

            Tikki glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes wide and her pupils constricted. “Did you just give me an order?”

            Adrien opened his mouth, but Juleka stepped in the way. She held out Tikki’s coffee and bag of snacks.

            “He was suggesting you put him down because your order is ready,” Juleka said.

            Tikki smirked and dropped Marc on his butt. She took the items and leaned in close to Juleka. “You better chase after him.”

            Juleka furrowed her brow when Marc took off running with Adrien chasing after him. She started after the boys when Rose grabbed Juleka’s arm.

            “Trust Adrien to help Marc. And, Tikki, why don’t you go see Marinette?”

            Tikki perked up. “Oh, of course! I should check on my darling pet. Where is she?”

            “Le Grand Paris. From there you should be able to find out what room she’s in,” Rose answered.

            Tikki cupped Rose’s face. “Excellent. You’ll get a little reward later, little bunny. Come along, Luka!”

            Tikki dragged Luka behind her as they headed for Le Grand Paris. She didn’t release him until they were outside Marinette’s room.

            Luka winced hearing Marinette, Alya, and Bridgette’s voices inside. They sounded like they were having an important conversation and he and Tikki shouldn’t get involved. Tikki created a key and unlocked the door. She barged in with Luka right behind.

            Marinette and Bridgette looked up in surprise while Alya remained neutral. Bridgette scurried and put a blanket around Marinette, who wore a yellow and black fuzzy bra with yellow striped black short shorts. Luka blushed and immediately looked away, covering his face. Bridgette wrapped Marinette up, then stood between her and Tikki.           

            “What do you want?” Bridgette demanded.

            Tikki waved her off dismissingly as she placed Luka on the couch. “What else? I wanted to come see darling Pet. Am I not allowed to see my little favorite pet?”

            “Then go see your cat,” Bridgette hissed.

            “Oh, if only I could. I can only imagine the strain he’s enduring being trapped on that girl’s body. So, I came to see you. After all, you did have a nasty run in with the spider,” Tikki remarked.

            Marinette looked away.

            “I mean, what are you going to do, pet? You’re going to be incredibly weak now. You certainly are lucky to have one person still devoted to you. You know what’d happen if you didn’t, right?”

            Marinette remained silent.

            “So, what are you going to do, Pet? You can’t stay like this. Not after being on a high for so long.”

            “I don’t care,” Marinette whispered.

            “About what, dear Pet? Do tell.”

            Marinette glanced at Luka, then sighed. “I’m not going to ruin other people’s lives just to feel powerful again. I won’t have them all devoted to just me. I’ll make do with my fans and Alya.”

            “Oh, but that’ll never be enough. If you’re not careful, you’ll go through withdraw symptoms. A dangerous thing for a concept like yourself. It’s like expecting Delight to be surrounded by anger or sorrow, or even Sorrow to be surrounded by joy. I wonder how long before you snap. How many will you bind to you just to satisfy your need for devotion? How far will you go to secure them?” Tikki questioned.

            “What are you going on about?” Luka asked.

            “That’s right, you don’t know. Well, Pet, this is your chance. Who do you want to tell him?”

            Marinette grumbled. She placed her right foot on the couch and moved the blanket away. On the inside of her thigh was a large gold ring tattoo with a bee and cherry blossoms flowers in the hoop.

            “I’m the avatar of devotion,” Marinette whispered.

            “Ding, ding! Correct. And you know what that means, right? No? Well, little Pet here is drawn to all manner of devotion, as is her concept. She lives for the bonds of loyalty produced by love, respect, and everything in between. It’s what gives her strength. At least until the mean old spider comes along and destroys those bonds. What do you think happens at that point?” Tikki explained.

            “It doesn’t-!” Marinette started.

            “She loses herself. First, it’s her body, then her mind. Once her mind is gone, deprived of the nourishment it needs, she snaps. And when she snaps, oh boy! No one is safe from her. She’ll take what and who she wants, forcing them to be utterly devoted to her. I do wonder who she’ll take.”

            “I would never-!” Marinette attempted.

            “Oh, what if you put the black cat holder under your spell? I dunno how the girl swings, but it’d be incredible to see the cat that tried to kill the bee fall madly for her prey. Or perhaps you’d like that hunky blonde that tried to kill Luka? I imagine you could use some arm candy, Pet. Oh, or you’ll reel back in that defiant little cat who thinks it can boss me around,” Tikki mused.

            “Enough! Why does it have to be in that kind of way? You know there are different kinds of bonds that come from devotion!” Marinette roared, the air filling with an angry buzzing.

            “And do you know that yourself?” Tikki countered.

            Marinette pursed her lips, remaining silent.

            “Maybe you should listen to Creation, Cousin? We can’t afford the luxuries of hesitation. We hesitate and our enemy wins. I mean, for fuck’s sake, you saw the spider! She has her fucking avatar form. Neither you nor Alya have that yet and are completely vulnerable. Even I can’t protect from the shit she did today. What if she does it again? I can’t protect you if she does!” Bridgette screamed.

            “I don’t want any repeats like what I did with you,” Marinette yelled back.

            “You certainly will if you go into withdraw. What then? How many people will it take to sate your appetite? How many lives will you ruin then?”

            “That’s not going to happen,” Marinette argued.

            “Yeah? How? Why don’t you tell me that? Because, at this point, all I see is we wouldn’t be in this mess if you fucking listened to me in the first place. You need people devoted to you. You need to be around other people devoted to each other. If you don’t do this, then you will snap and see your own fears fulfilled.”

            “Bridgette is right,” Alya said.

            “But-!” Marinette started.

            “You need your strength. As we all do. We are facing avatars with more to be on the way. We cannot afford such luxuries anymore,” Alya stated.

            “Fucking… fine! Since you two seem to know-it-all, where should I even start?” Marinette demanded.

            “I have a suggestion,” Tikki said.

            “Yeah? What would that be?” Marinette asked.

            Tikki pulled Luka off the sofa and held him up.

            “Uh, I don’t know about this,” Luka said.

            “Listen, listen. This is a fantastic idea. You’ll have your first friend,” Tikki cooed.

            “I have friends,” Luka argued.

            “Your sister has friends. Now this is your chance,” Tikki pointed out.

            “Fine, but only if this is what Marinette wants too,” Luka said.

            “Is this what you want, Pet? Another friend you can count on to be your pillar?” Tikki pushed.

            Marinette considered, then placed a hand over her heart. A golden light shone from her heart as threads emerged from it. She spun them around Luka’s heart, that shared the same glow. The threads and the glow vanished. Tikki put him down as he held a hand over his heart.

            Luka didn’t feel any different. Even when looking at Marinette, there wasn’t anything too special. He did feel as if he was looking at an old friend that he trusted completely, but nothing else.

            “So, what now?” Luka asked.

            “Now she should do the same with me,” Bridgette said.

            “I already told you, no,” Marinette spat.

            Tikki moved away as Marinette and Bridgette got into another argument. She watched Luka step in and attempt to play mediator while she approached Alya. Alya looked at Tikki and altered the area directly around them.

            “You wish to speak with me, Creation?” Alya asked.

            “Yes, indeed. I need to punish a little certain feline. He got a little saucy with me earlier, thinking he could order me around,” Tikki said.

            “How does it involve me?”

            “Easy. Let him be seen. Let the enemy find him,” Tikki ordered.

            “But I made a promise to protect him,” Alya argued.

            Tikki smiled. She grabbed Alya’s face and squeezed it. Alya gasped and clawed at Tikki’s hand.

            “Now, what were you saying?”

            Alya nodded and dismissed her powers on Adrien.

            Tikki released Alya. “See? Was that so hard?”

            Tikki moved out of the area before Alya could answer. She tapped Luka’s shoulder. “I’m bored. Can I play on your phone?”

            Luka sighed and handed over his phone.

            Tikki gleefully took it and trotted over to the bed. She laid on her stomach and opened Luka’s social media. She grinned as she waited for the show to begin.

[shadowsxgwynriel]

At Her Mercy

Day 7: Free Day @sjmromanceweek

Emerie and Mor decide to take their friendship to the next level.

Ship: Emerie and Mor 💋

Word Count: 4,444

Warning: Smut

Read on AO3

“Do you wanna fool around?”

Emerie nearly choked on the vodka shot she just swallowed. She turned to look at Mor. “What?”

Mor gave her a drunken smile. “I said do you wanna fool around?“

Emerie laughed and shook her head. “You’re so fucking drunk.”

The two of them were at one of the last summer parties before the new semester. It was officially their senior year, so almost everyone was at the party. Well, expect for her two roommates. Gwyn didn’t do social gatherings and never attended parties, and Nesta just didn’t like people in general. And their friend Elain, Nesta’s sister, was probably somewhere with her boyfriend, Lucien.

Luckily, Mor loved to attend parties just like Emerie. In fact, that was how they became friends during their freshman year.

“I’m not drunk!” Mor insisted. She might have been more believable if her neck had better balance.

“Whatever you say,” Emerie joked. “And what happened to that guy you were seeing?”

Mor made a face. “The sex was mediocre.”

“I thought you really liked him?”

She shook her head. “I liked his dog. He was just okay.”

Emerie had to laugh at that.

“So?”

“So what?” Emerie asked.

Mor sighed. “Do you want to go back to my place and fool around?”

Her pulse started racing. Mor was a very beautiful woman, practically a living goddess. But she was also a good friend. One that Emerie didn’t want to lose.

“Are you messing with me?” Emerie asked with an awkward laugh.

Mor shook her head. “Nooo. I’m very serious right now . . . and very horny.”

Emerie blinked, not sure how to respond to that.

“I love this song!” Mor suddenly cheered. She jumped up and ran to go dance.

She couldn’t help but watch Mor’s sensual dance moves. Emerie felt her cheeks heat at the way Mor rolled her hips to the beat. She grabbed a beer from a nearby cooler, and took a long drink.

“Come dance with me!” Mor shouted, beckoning her forward.

It was going to be a long night.

~~~

Emerie propped Mor against the wall. “Where are your keys?” she asked her. Mor really needed to clean out her purse, because it was impossible to find anything besides old receipts and about a hundred lipsticks.

“Pretty sure I put them in my purse.”

Great. That was very helpful.

Finally, after rummaging around for more than five minutes, she found the apartment key. Emerie unlocked the door and ushered her inside, which wasn’t easy given that Mor was very drunk, uncoordinated, and wearing heels. It was a disaster waiting to happen.

They walked to the bedroom and Mor collapsed onto the bed. She smiled at her. “Come sit down,” she said, patting the spot beside her.

Emerie joined her on the bed. Mor sat up and undid her ponytail, the blonde locks cascading over her shoulders. She really was the most beautiful woman Emerie had ever seen.

“I wish that I could push pause sometimes,” Mor said suddenly.

Emerie looked at her.

Mor sighed. “Controlling parents can be a bitch, you know?”

She didn’t, not really. Sure, her dad was a piece of shit, but she hadn’t seen him in over ten years. Her mom, however, was the best. They had a close bond, and Emerie was thankful to have her.

Still, Emerie had seen firsthand how Nesta and Elain’s mother could be, so she had an idea of Mor’s plight.

“Why don’t you just tell them to fuck off?” Emerie asked. “It’s your life.”

Mor snorted. “Yes, I’m sure my father would just love that.” She fell silent. Emerie thought maybe she had fallen asleep, until she spoke again. “He wants me to marry the son of one of his investors.”

“Why?”

“So that way they can’t cut ties with him. He thinks if they’re my in-laws then his business will be safe. Even better if I pop out a few grandchildren.”

Emerie didn’t know what to say.

“Damn,” Mor whined. “I ruined the mood!”

Suddenly, she smooshed Emerie’s cheeks in her hands. Emerie knew she probably looked ridiculous with her face squished and lips puckering out like a fish. “What are you doing?” she asked in a mumble.

“Seducing you,” Mor said. Then she kissed her.

Well, kiss was putting it kindly. It was more like she pressed her lips to hers for five seconds, then collapsed back onto the bed.

Emerie blinked, looking down at Mor. She was fast asleep, snoring softly.

In a bit of a daze, she removed Mor’s heels and tucked her in. Mor mumbled something, but didn’t wake up as she tiptoed from the room.

She locked the front door behind her. She’d give Mor her keys in the morning.

Emerie paused, remembering the brief feel of Mor’s luscious lips on hers. She blushed. Hopefully, Mor didn’t remember that awkward kiss.

Or maybe she could just ask Gwyn to drop them off . . .

The rest of the story is available here 🥰

[nashvillehq]

name: Lottie Ramirez gender & pronouns: Cis Woman | She/Her age & date of birth: 34 years old | December 18th, 1988 neighborhood: Downtown time living in nashville: 34 years (whole life/native) occupation: Owner of the Tin Roof

BACKGROUND.

TW: alcoholism mention

Nashville has always been Lottie’s home and it always will be. There is no city she has ever loved more. Even in the bad times, there were plenty of good times to balance it out. Lottie was the middle child of three, born to a producer and a waitress who were always trying to make ends meet. Their household was strict, but not lacking love. Not once did Lottie feel like her parents didn't love her or her siblings. She did, however, get a few solid whacks to the ass for being a mouthy little shit and was expected to work hard to keep their little home nice just like everyone else in the house.

Future goals had never been a priority for Lottie. She had no clue what she wanted to do when she got older and she never had a passion for any one thing in particular. What she did love was music. Especially music in Nashville. The raw energy of seeing a band or artist that has yet to be discovered or was recording for the first time. She spent a lot of time after school with her father traveling between studios and watching him mix and tweak sounds. Some of the artists were good, and others didn’t stand a chance. Nothing changed how much she loved listening to them with wide eyes of wonderment. Unfortunately Lottie’s talent was mediocre at best, but that didn’t mean she loved music any less. That’s why it was no surprise that she ended up falling for an aspiring singer in her senior year.

Lottie fell hopelessly head over heels for the woman, they were smitten with each other. Together they decided to buy a live music staple in the city, the Tin Roof. The owner sold it to them for a good price, scared they were going to go out of business with no one to pass it on to. Stella knew the place was in good hands after one conversation with Lottie and her other half. Every night they featured new artists, served good food, and great drinks. One of the nights Lottie’s girlfriend was performing and she finally caught her big break. In less than a year both of their lives changed. Lottie ran the bar while her girlfriend was recording, then going on tour, or off to big release parties. There was no denying Lottie got jealous from time to time, but she would go to all the events she could and they always came back home to her. As soon as gay marriage was legalized, they were among the first in the state to get married at the courthouse. They had a grand reception with all their friends, family, and even some acquaintances in attendance.

Things didn’t stay all rainbows and sunshine, though. Tours and recording and special shows were taking up all of her wife’s time. Lottie would only get to see her through video chats and short visits. It was beginning to get real lonely back in Nashville. Then they started fighting, arguing about time and responsibilities and jealousy. All Lottie wanted was more time with her. Her wife promised her some time off, and she delivered. Little did they both know it was the beginning of the end. Lottie got done at the bar early, let her staff close up so she could surprise her and when she went up to their condo attached to the bar she found her wife in bed with a musician that had been performing earlier that night.

Lottie got the bar in the divorce, and a small amount of alimony that she didn’t ask for. A few years later and she’s still in the same place, running the Tin Roof. No matter what her love for music didn’t change and she keeps inviting talent to sign up and perform for a chance at being discovered. Along with special events like drag shows, rooftop socials, and block barbeques. Trust has been hard and she was left a little bit bitter, but as she heals things get easier. Until one of her exes songs comes on the radio and people ask why she’s so quick to change it. Someday she’ll get over her and move on. Maybe get help for the bad drinking habit she picked up along the way, too. Until then she’s going to put her focus into her other two loves: work and music.

[themirokai]

Get to Know Meme

Tag 9 people you want to get to know better.

Tagged by the lovely @pellaaearien ! Thanks!

Three ships: We’ll go with Dreamling (Dream/Hob from Sandman), Jayvik (Jayce/Viktor from Arcane), and I will take any opportunity to boost my little life raft of a rare pair ship Palomi (Paloma/Nomi from No Time To Die) (look at this ship tag: the first work is mine and the other 3 are gifts to me. 🤦🏻‍♀️ Please I promise you that this pairing is wonderful! I need more people to get into it!)

First ever ship: I came to online fandom relatively late but when I got here the first ship that I fell head over heels in love with was Mystrade (Mycroft/Lestrade from BBC Sherlock). I’ve said this elsewhere but I could not be more grateful that the kind, welcoming, drama-free fandom that is the Mystrade shippers was my intro to this world. The enthusiasm and encouragement that they gave me on my first few stories got me hooked on writing fic.

Last song: If I’m being honest, I don’t actually listen to a ton of music. I had Lindsey Stirling on as background music while I was working. I think the last song I like intentionally listened to was Magic Man by Heart.

Last movie: Oo! Watched The Woman King on New Year’s! It was fantastic! Lashana Lynch was incredible.

Currently reading: I have a lot of feelings about the fact that I haven’t finished a book in… a couple years at this point. The problem is that I spend my entire work day doing critical reading (so many contracts) and then when I have a little free time around parenting I either want to write or I want to read a friend’s story or I’m pretty zonked. Sooo yeah. Been struggling with this.

Currently consuming: Water. Had a very good burrito for dinner. The guacamole was mediocre to the extent that I may need to make my own guacamole this weekend to make up for it.

Currently craving: More free time by myself? Seriously, that’s basically all I ever want at this point. Last year for my birthday I went to a hotel for the weekend by myself and I barely spoke to anyone and it was amazing. Will probably do that again this year.

Zero pressure tags for: @garnetcapricorn @altair214

@icurlybooks @an-asuryampasya @tinyfrenchowl @mashumaru @karalynlovescake @sleebyplampts @inexhaustible-sources-of-magic

[randomvarious]

Today’s compilation:

50 anni di musica internazionale 2001 Soft Rock / New Wave / Soul / Pop / Pop-Rock / R&B / Disco / Folk-Rock / Hard Rock / Blues-Rock / Synthpop / Funk / Dance-Pop / Rock & Roll / Latin Rock

Been listening to this immense six-disc, five-decade retrospective on the history of popular music from 1950 through 2000 over the past week and change that was put out by weekly Italian entertainment magazine TV Sorrisi e Canzoni back in '01. And let me tell you, it's really good.

I mean, It's definitely not perfect (there are admittedly some real headscratchers here, like the awful, not-sure-if-this-was-actually-made-as-a-joke, "Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm" by the Crash Test Dummies), but it's a very eclectic set of songs, and what sets it apart from other *definitive box sets* of its ilk is that, while any fair-weather music fan will recognize just about every name on here, a lot of times the compiler(s) of this release actually chose to stray away from the most popular song by a bunch of these acts.

For example, they've got Joe Jackson on here, so you'd probably be expecting "Steppin' Out," right? But that's not the song they went with. They chose his much less known, but also great, "You Can't Get What You Want (Till You Know What You Want)" instead. Cyndi Lauper? No, not "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" or "Time After Time;" "True Colors." Stevie Wonder? Not any of his super famous hits, but rather "A Place in the Sun." Toto? No, not "Africa;" "Rosanna." Late 90s Cher? Not "Believe;" "Strong Enough." Tears for Fears? Not "Shout," not "Everybody Wants to Rule the World," not even "Mad World" or "Head Over Heels;" "Woman in Chains." Duran Duran? Not "Hungry Like the Wolf," not "Notorious," and not "Ordinary World." It's their 2000 Oasis-sounding track, "Someone Else Not Me." Gloria Gaynor? Not "I Will Survive;" the superior-in-every-way, "Never Can Say Goodbye." The Spin Doctors? Not "Two Princes" or "Little Miss Can't Be Wrong;" it's their mediocre cover of Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Have You Ever Seen the Rain?"

Now, did that strategy of going with a lesser known hit always work? Certainly not. Sometimes the alternative choice just isn't a very good song. But did that strategy make for something of a unique listening experience overall? Absolutely. And with so many of these box sets that have floated around over the years, all claiming to represent the best that a large chunk of time had to offer, this is one of the better ones, simply because, in a lot of instances, they didn't go with the most obvious choices.

So, if you want a nice, varied mix of enormous career-defining hits and some unexpected, but sweet curveballs, then this is a set that's definitely worth checking out.

Highlights:

CD1:

Bob Dylan - "Subterranean Homesick Blues" The Clash - "Should I Stay or Should I Go" Eurythmics - "Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)" Michael Bolton - "Soul Provider" Eric Carmen - "All by Myself" Aretha Franklin - "(You Make Me Feel Like) a Natural Woman" Men at Work - "Who Can It Be Now?" Christopher Cross - "Arthur's Theme (Best That You Can Do)" Joe Jackson - "You Can't Get What You Want (Till You Know What You Want)" Santana - "Samba pa ti"

CD2:

Billy Joel - "Just the Way You Are" Simon & Garfunkel - "Mrs. Robinson" Marvin Gaye - "I Heard It Through the Grapevine" Stevie Wonder - "A Place in the Sun" Janis Joplin - "Me and Bobby McGee" Otis Redding - "(Sittin' on) The Dock of the Bay" Paul Anka - "Diana" Harry Belafonte - "Banana Boat (Day-O)" Dionne Warwick - "Heartbreaker" B.B. King - "The Thrill Is Gone"

CD3:

Barry White - "You're the First, the Last, My Everything" Rod Stewart - "Maggie May" Toto - "Rosanna" Donna Summer - "Love to Love You Baby" Natalie Imbruglia - "Torn" Cher - "Strong Enough" Percy Sledge - "When a Man Loves a Woman" The Alan Parsons Project - "Eye in the Sky"

CD4:

Tears for Fears - "Woman in Chains" Duran Duran - "Someone Else Not Me" Rufus & Chaka Khan - "Ain't Nobody" Roy Orbison - "Oh, Pretty Woman" Leonard Cohen - "Suzanne" Enya - "Orinoco Flow"

CD5:

Gloria Gaynor - "Never Can Say Goodbye" INXS - "Need You Tonight" Grace Jones - "Slave to the Rhythm" Peter Tosh - "Legalize It" Ben E. King - "Stand by Me" Van Morrison - "Brown Eyed Girl" Michael Jackson & The Jackson 5 - "I Want You Back" Fine Young Cannibals - "She Drives Me Crazy" Earth, Wind & Fire - "September"

CD6:

David Bowie - "Space Oddity" James Brown - "Get Up (I Feel Like Being a) Sex Machine" Wilson Pickett - "Mustang Sally" Jefferson Airplane - "Somebody to Love" Sam & Dave - "Hold on I'm Comin'" Jerry Lee Lewis - "Great Balls of Fire" Solomon Burke - "Everybody Needs Somebody (to Love)"

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

🔥

Jesus, people really want to see me dump the salt I guess, haha. Okay, another unpopular opinion! Hmm hmm hmm…

So, let me gently, lovingly, take your face in my hands to softly, soothingly inform you… that not everything has to be a motherfucking musical.

Look, I like Legally Blonde as much as the next person. But it feels like everything I hear about nowadays is an adaptation, to the point where it’s seriously ludicrous. Mean Girls? Bring it On? Spongebob Motherfucking Squarepants!?

What the FUCK!?

Now, to a certain extent, everything is based on something. There is nothing new under the sun, etc. Hamilton and SIX are based on historical characters, for example. But all I’m seeing on Broadway is either a fucking jukebox or an adaptation of a film, and honestly, I’m just sitting here going, “what was the point”?

The point of taking something from one type of media (book, film, play, comic) and turning it into another type of media, is to do something genuinely new with it. For example, the book Wicked and the musical Wicked are extremely different stories. The musical is about the relationship between two women, and is more black and white in its statements about politics. The book is much darker, the friendship between Glinda and Elphaba is only in one third of the book, and there is a lot more going on (and a lot more shades of gray, morally speaking). If I had to summarize them, I’d say the book is a historical political thriller while the other is a relationship dramedy. And both are equally good. Just different.

But Moulin Rouge? I’m sorry but why would I shell out hundreds of bucks to go and see that? Same with Frozen, for example. They’re already musicals as movies. Why pay a ton of money to go see what is 80% the same story that I can watch on Netflix or rent for five bucks?

Adaptations from movies into musicals don’t usually bring enough new stuff to the table. Take even Legally Blonde, which as I said I enjoy. The musical takes more time to dig into Elle and Emmett’s relationship, which makes it different from the film, but honestly it’s still pretty much the same story. It doesn’t do anything new with the source material. Which means I’m sitting there thinking, “why did you make this into a musical, then?”

It doesn’t help that musicals that really do something original and push the envelope like Bandstand get passed over, ignored, and close early. Critics whine and complain about how vapid substance-less musicals are taking over Broadway but all they do is occasionally support a musical that is envelope-pushing in a way that they decide is safe (most recently, Hamilton) and then they pat themselves on the back for being so ‘liberal’.

I mean I hate Dear Evan Hansen with everything in me but at least it was an original musical. At least it wasn’t based on anything. If you’re going to turn something into a musical think, how will I make this different enough from the source material to warrant an independent production? How can I tell this story as a musical, live onstage, that I couldn’t tell when it was a movie/book/etc?

Because frankly, Pretty Woman et al are just the same as their source material. And I’m not shelling out ten bucks, never mind hundreds, to watch that.

AND WHAT IS WITH THE FUCKING JUKEBOX MUSICALS. Am I a snob for wanting new songs!? I adore Mamma Mia, I really do, but every time I turn around there’s a new musical featuring nothing but a paper-thin plot used to thread together a bunch of songs that you already know, have already heard, and frankly will have more fun screaming along to and dancing along to with your friends in your basement than you will sitting in a theatre. & Juliet, Head over Heels, and so on do have intriguing plots but was it too fucking much to ask that the songs in them not be a bunch of Top Ten Hits?

And at least those HAVE plots. Jersey Boys and its clones where it’s just a person or group of people standing on stage singing song after song and telling their Sad Artist life story in between makes me want to set something on fire. Preferably the theatre where that musical is performing.

So yeah. I don’t think the majority of musicals coming out nowadays are good. I’m sick of the Disney Broadway adaptations same as I’m sick of the Disney live-action remakes we’re getting on film. I don’t want to see most films made into musicals, and I certainly don’t want to see ridiculous childhood cartoons made into musicals, and I really really do not want to pay hundreds of dollars to listen to people sing Billboard’s Top 100 Hits.

Having said all of that the Percy Jackson musical is amazing and those snobby theatre critics can meet me in the backalley the actors use as a smokebreak room so I can fight them

[kingpreciouswrld]

Hi luv, can you do a angst to fluff Miranda Priestly imagine where Andrea comes back to Runway to confess her feelings for Miranda, but Miranda is in a relationship w/ the reader and has to choose between them. At the end Miranda chooses the reader!

Wants and Needs

Title from Drake's song -"Wants and Needs"

Pairing: Miranda Priestly x Reader

Genre: Angst -> Fluff

Word count: 2k

A/N: God you know I'm a sucker for angsty Miranda 😫 I hope you like it! All mistakes are mine ;-;

__________

The phone landed on the sofa with a soft bounce as you sat back into your own chair with a sigh.

You just got a call from Nigel. He called you right when he got back from leaving Miranda’s office and told you that he saw her walking into the office.

Her being the infamous Andrea Sachs.

The young journalist was known as the one who walked away alive. And thanks to Nigel, you also knew Andrea as the girl who was in love with her ex-boss and your girlfriend, Miranda Priestly.

It wasn’t new information to those who knew the young journalist. Nigel had told you that the girl developed feelings for the editor during her tenure at Runway. So far, the girl never showed any interest in Miranda after she walked away in Paris, and you hoped it stayed that way.

Your relationship with Miranda wasn’t public and you liked it that way. Miranda wanted to keep things underwraps until the both of you were ready to face the numerous paparazzi, critics, and the unavoidable page six, but keeping things underwraps meant that no one knew the editor was taken.

There was no reason for the girl to be at Runway unless...no, no, you needed to use a wise mind. But the journalist wrote small columns in a mediocre newspaper, so why would she be in Runway’s offices?

You tried your best to not jump to conclusions but if anything, you had faith in Miranda. She didn’t like to be bothered during Runway hours unless it was a family matter so you knew she would ignore the girl.

You hoped she would.

You didn’t know much about how Miranda felt about Andrea, she never talked about it.

Either way, there was nothing you could do with the information you were given, you weren’t going to call Miranda at work,

So you just waited.

~~~~~~~

The shutting of the front door followed by heels clacking on tiled floors told you that Miranda was home.

You didn't need to check the time for it to tell you that Miranda was late, more late than usual.

You followed her movements with your hearing, never breaking your staring contest with the painting in front of you.

She was getting closer.

You didn’t have to tell her where you were, you didn't have the energy to anyway but she always came to the study to work on the book.

“Darling there you are.” Miranda bent down and pressed a small kiss to your forehead.

You responded with a hum and watched as your lover made herself comfortable on the sofa across from you.

“How was your day? Did you manage to turn in your project on time?” she asked as she put on her reading glasses before turning to the book.

You were too out of it to answer her questions. Your day was...fine, it was tolerable, but your mind was running at a thousand miles per second and it made you despondent.

Not getting a reply from you, Miranda looked up from the book, “Darling?” she asked softly, "is everything alright?"

"Hm?" Your eyes found icey blue ones that were filled with concern. "Oh, yeah–yes, everything's fine."

Satisfied with your response, Miranda sent you a soft smile before she returned her focus to the fashion pages in her lap.

The silence that followed swallowed you whole, only broken with the few scratches of Miranda's red pen and the flipping of pages.

"Why was Andrea at Runway today?"

At least you held off for longer than you thought you would.

Miranda's focus didn't falter, the only telltale sign that she heard you was the sharp inhale through her nose.

"What are you talking about darling?"

"Andrea Sachs. Why was she there?"

Miranda made no move to stop her work and you sighed,

"It's just a question Miranda."

Knowing that she couldn't get any work done until you were addressed, Miranda finally looked up at you, taking her glasses off in the process,

"If you must know, she was just there to talk."

"Okay," you nodded slowly, "talk about what?"

The white-haired editor fluffed her hair before she waved you off, "It's nothing, really."

"Miranda you never just 'talk' to someone during work let alone an ex-assistant who walked out on you. She worked for you Miranda, I thought you wouldn't be caught dead with someone like–"

"Do NOT talk about Andréa like that," Miranda snapped.

Miranda had never raised her voice at you and it made you physically flinch. She was defending Andrea.

For the first time since the relationship started, you were shaken. You couldn't read Miranda at all and it scared you.

Without warning, your mask slipped in place and you became eerily calm,

"What happened," you said quietly.

Miranda had gone back to the book albeit working slower than usual,

"The girl merely wanted to have dinner."

The puzzle pieces were settling into place. You could feel your stomach clench. Your heart sped up, and you felt your nerves set off as the waves of anxiety spread from your chest throughout your whole body,

"That's why you were late wasn't it…"

Miranda simply continued with her work as she pushed some of her bangs out of her eyes, "Don't be ridiculous Y/N, it was just about friends catching up."

"You never talked about her, you refused to talk about her, she isn't just a 'friend' Miranda."

There was a silent pause as you observed your lover. Her own mask was in place and she was blatantly ignoring the situation. She wouldn't even look you in the eye.

"She asked you out again, didn't she."

A whispered 'yes' cut through the silence.

You took a deep, steadying breath,

"What did you say."

Silence. Miranda returned to the book, turning the pages and making notes here and there. She never once acknowledged you, it was as if the editor shut you out completely.

It broke your heart.

"I hope having your fun is worth it."

You quietly approached the editor, making sure you didn't jostle the book in her lap, before you bent down and placed your own kiss on her forehead.

You couldn't bring yourself to say anything else. The answer of silence was an answer in itself.

Quietly leaving the study, you made your way up to your– to Miranda's bedroom and gathered your clothes into a duffle bag. You didn't want to stay here, you couldn't. You didn't know what all of this meant, it was too much for you to process, but you knew you had to leave.

~~~~~~~

A year of being together and a journalist is what comes between the two of you. A year. A fucking year.

And now, here you were, sitting alone in a hotel room for the 8th day in a row.

How easy it was for Miranda to look at another.

Throughout the week you did your best to not doubt yourself. You knew Miranda's curiosity had nothing to do with how you were as a person or a lover, but you couldn't help that little voice in the back of your head that questioned why you weren't enough to satisfy Miranda.

After the second day of being away from the editor, she started to blow up your phone. Calls on top of calls came through, even during Runway hours and Miranda never called you during Runway hours, maybe texted, but never called.

The night you left the townhouse was the last time you talked to Miranda. Even though she's made many, many attempts to reach you, you weren't ready. Those self-doubts made you hesitant to pick up any of the calls that came to your phone.

On the third day she started to get Nigel and Emily to contact you. You told Nigel what happened and he wasn't happy with what Miranda had done. Emily heard what happened the first time she had contacted you and the redhead wasn't thrilled either. Although Emily was hard to deal with at times, you knew she wanted the best for you and right now she didn't think Miranda was what's best for you. Either way, both of them knew the situation and both of them promised to keep your location underwraps.

That, in turn, caused Miranda to double her attempts (as if they weren't enough already).

She started to send gifts, flowers, anything the editor thought you might like.

When you would arrive at work, there would be a bouquet of flowers on your desk, then throughout the day more bouquets would follow. Hell the woman would send you chocolates, not the cheap ones either, the best chocolates money could buy in New York City. You started to find Roy waiting for you after work and despite your attempts of refusal, you caved in after he personally wanted to see you make it back to wherever you were staying, safely.

Every mutual friend you had with Miranda knew where you were and what had happened between you two, and each of them promised to keep quiet on the matter.

You knew you couldn't hide forever, you just didn't know when she'd finally find you.

A knock on your hotel door snapped you out of your thoughts.

Your breath hitched. It couldn't be Miranda right? You've managed to slip away for 8 days, surely you had more time.

Looking through the little peep hole, you felt your body relax before confusion passed over your features. You never ordered room service. Unless you did and just forgot about it.

You shrugged, 'Free food is free food.' You opened the door and followed the bellhop as he pushed the cart in. Taking a closer look, you found that the cart held a tray of your favorite foods with a basket of your favorite snacks.

"Um, excuse me, where did you get all of this?"

"You only deserve the best."

You whipped around and found Miranda standing in the doorway.

She looked as if she came from work. Her famously white hair had fallen out of it's usual coif and there were a few wrinkles on her blouse.

What surprised you was the fact that the usual poised editor was fidgeting with her fingers. You could practically feel the anxiety rolling off of her body in waves. It was only then that you noticed that the two of you were now alone in your hotel room.

Miranda didn't know where to start, "Y/N, I…" she took a deep breath, "I love you and I-I'm sorry for my lapse in judgement about the whole..Andréa spiel."

You watched as Miranda took tentative steps forward, gaining more confidence when she didn't get any refusal from you.

She took hold of your hands and pressed kisses to them both, "Darling, it's you. I love you and only you. There has never been a moment since you left that I haven't thought of you."

"Miranda…" you whispered softly.

She shook her head and squeezed your hands, "I need you. I should have never entertained the thought of life without you by my side. I choose you Y/N, I love you."

You bit your lip before you sent a small smile towards the editor and Miranda's eyes brightened. She pulled you into a crushing hug and she clung to you like a koala as she kissed any part of your body that was in reach: your shoulder, your neck, your hair. All the while, she whispered 'I love you's' and 'I'm sorry's' and 'Y/N' as if chanting these things would keep you two in the moment. You indulged in the love that was showered on you and you hugged Miranda back just as tightly.

Miranda finally settled to hide her face in the crook of your neck,

"How did you find me?"

Her response was muffled by your neck but you heard it all the same,

"I may have threatened Emily with the banning of cheese in the offices."

You snorted a laugh.

'Ratted out for cheese cubes..are cheese gift baskets a thing?’

__________

Devil Wears Prada tags: @007giu

[storm-and-starlight]

While the Crown Hangs Heavy on Either Side

All These Fictions We Took to Mean Fate

Here it is, the second installment. This is where the angst really starts to kick in!

The song for this segment is Into the Open Air, by Julie Fowlis. (Yes it's a song from Brave but it's a damn good one go listen)

Part One / AO3

2

He first met Geralt of Rivia, Butcher of Blaviken, in a very small town on the edge of the world called Posada, about as far as one could possibly get from Lettenhove. The story itself is practically public record at this point, he’s told it so many times. Tavern, elves, ass-kicking, Toss a Coin -- ask anyone how the bard Jaskier met the White Wolf and they can rattle off the song like they learned it at their mother’s knee, never mind that it isn’t-- quite true.

Less well-known is the story of what happened after, how he followed Geralt to the next town over, and then the next, and the next, and made a name for himself singing songs about a heroic witcher, and how Geralt let him when he seemed bound and determined to drive away everyone else who tried to give a fuck about him.

Jaskier wandered across half the known world at Geralt’s side, singing songs about monsters and magic and the heroes of old to people so hollowed-out by the wars that even a mediocre bard who sang about a witcher was a welcome change, and pretended to everyone, even himself, that he wasn’t related to the man who wrought so much destruction.

~

Jaskier is currently getting resoundingly drunk.

He tends to do that a lot, actually -- he has a whole stash hidden away in some forgotten broom closet that no one’s been able to find him in yet that he saves for when the weight of everything rumbles down on top of him like a pile of stones.

Right now, he’s having an argument with the patch of lighter stone on the walls that looks like a face if you tip your head to the left and squint at it, because he’s always been a maudlin drunk and he needs someone to talk to.

“It’s Geralt. I haven’t… I haven’t thought about him in a decade, you know. I was over him.”

The stone face appears to be judging him, silently.

“Fine, fine. I wasn’t over him, but I was doing fine.”

Still judging.

“Okay, so I missed him. A little.”

Silence.

“A lot.”

The face looks at him out of one lopsidedly triangular eye.

“Fuck off.”

The face does not fuck off, because it’s nothing more than a lighter bit of rock in the middle of a castle in some forgotten broom closet where Jaskier is getting drunk because everything he thought he’d left behind for good, everything he’d thought he ripped out of his own chest just to be able to function, has abruptly come back in the form of a white-haired witcher and it turns out that Jaskier is decidedly not fine, at all.

“What am I supposed to do?” he asks the universe at large, and the walls rattle his own voice right back at him. “I can’t just-- can’t just kick him out--”

But he can’t let him stay, either, because Geralt is a weakness and any weakness will get him thrown to the hounds. Or, more accurately, his brother’s legions still snapping at his heels for war. He can’t show weakness, can’t be anything other than the perfect, untouchable Emperor of the West and loving some scruffy monster hunter is most definitely something that could get him deposed or more likely assassinated, but--

But never mind all the shit they say emperors are supposed to do, he wants Geralt to stay.

~

He first fell in love with Geralt of Rivia two years after Posada, in the middle of some tiny no-name town in the southwest of Kaedwen, when he’d come down with some kind of cough that was catching like wildfire and Geralt had huffed, sighed, and bought him an inn room for a week while it felt like he was going to hack up a lung. It was the first time he’d shown anything more towards Jaskier than the gruff kindness he gave to everyone, his hand on Jaskier’s back as he coughed a warm reassurance that someone, at least, didn’t want him dead.

Or maybe he first fell in love a month earlier than that, when Geralt got caught in the back by a kikimora he hadn’t seen coming, on a contract for drowners of all things, and Jaskier had dragged him out of the mud and bandaged up the gashes and sat by him, all night, to make sure his breathing didn’t stop and Geralt had thanked him, deep and serious, when he’d finally been able to speak again

Or maybe it’d been six months before that, when Geralt’d taken a collection of pretty rocks a child had gathered as “payment” to kill the monster that was killing her family’s sheep and then set them back on her windowsill in the middle of the night, offering no explanation beyond the slowly-growing evidence that he was a good man, one of the best that Jaskier had ever known. Has ever known.

Or maybe-- well, it doesn’t really matter when he fell in love with Geralt, only that for as long as he can remember he’s been burningly, blindingly, achingly in love with the man, the kind of love that feels like it could make Jaskier’s heart cease to beat if anything ever happened to him.

And damn his stupid fragile heart, but he never really stopped.

~

By the time he’s made his way through most of the Verden brandy and into the Skelligan white, he’s stopped lamenting Geralt’s presence and started wondering what the fuck he’s even doing here.

He took the throne to try to repair some of the damage, to keep his brother’s armies from fragmenting and carving out bits and pieces for themselves, to try to let the land recover and keep everyone else from attacking him, and most of all to keep his brother’s empire from collapsing in a pile of bodies.

A year or two after that, he realized that as de-facto ruler of a good third of the civilized world, he had a chance to start making things actually better, and he started making reforms. Limits on the power of the nobility, regulations for how much merchants had to pay their workers, protections for travellers and offers of neutrality for universities. It’s a work in progress -- it’s near-impossible to turn a pack of bandits into an effective police force, and that’s the least of his problems -- but he’s trying.

But he is-- he really is a despot, a dictator, who rules by strength of arms and little more and the things he’s had to do to keep the peace, to keep a hundred different factions from starting a thousand different wars…

Perhaps Geralt was right to not have recognized him after all.

He laughs at that, bright and bitter and overloud, and takes another drink to drown out the pain of that realization, knocking his head against the wall.

“I’m fucked,” he tells the face conversationally. “Thoroughly, irrevocably, irredeemably fucked. If I stay, I’m fucked. If I leave, the world’s fucked. If Geralt stays--”

“He’s fucked too?” The words are coming from the hallway, deep and amused and achingly, achingly familiar.

“We’re both fucked,” Jaskier corrects, morosely, and then, because he’s drunk enough that it feels like the world’s about to end, “Hello, Geralt. How’d you find me?”

“Followed your scent,” Geralt says, taciturn as ever, and then “...may I come in?”

“Always,” Jaskier says, and it comes out more heartfelt than he really means it to, but the door swings wide and it’s… it’s Geralt, looking like he hasn’t aged a day, still with his hair falling messily out of its tie and his ragged black clothes and his golden eyes that can somehow manage to look so unspeakably fond--

“Jaskier,” and oh, that sensation like a trapped scream is back, building and building in his guts-- “come on.”

“What?”

Geralt huffs, exasperated, and it’s so fucking familiar that it might as well be ten years ago and Jaskier drunk off his ass in some country tavern. “You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“Is that you offering to keep me company?”

“Yes.” It’s so very Geralt that Jaskier wants to cry.

“Okay. Yeah, okay,” and he lets Geralt haul him up onto his feet and out into the light of the hallway.

~

He first knew that Geralt loved him back the first time he nearly died.

The contract was supposed to be for archespores. Just archespores, which, while dangerous, were also stationary and thus easy to observe from a distance. He was supposed to take a seat on a nearby hill, record the fight, and stay well out of range of danger.

The fact that there was a colony of arachnomorphs on that very same hill hadn’t been mentioned by anyone in the village, so you couldn’t really blame Jaskier for not knowing.

He remembers-- flashes, bright moments caught in time. Fangs sinking into his calf; black blood splattered across his face; the gleam of Geralt’s sword as it struck an arachnomorph clean in two.

Pain.

He remembers struggling to breathe, not knowing why his heart was slowing, slowing, until Geralt had choked out something about paralytic venom, and then he’d been scared, almost more scared than he had been when his brother was conquering everything a day’s ride to the south of Oxenfurt and the Pankratz name had been a curse on every tongue.

He remembers warm arms around him, holding him upright as he struggled to breathe, potions and thin broth poured down his throat as often as Geralt could manage, a whispered midnight plea; “don’t you dare fucking die on me, Jaskier.”

He remembers when he’d finally gasped awake with a full breath, when his heart had stuttered back to a normal rhythm, how Geralt had buried his face in his neck for a long, long time, and how his lips had trembled where he pressed them to Jaskier’s skin.

~

Geralt supports him on the long wobbly walk back to his own rooms, listening to Jaskier’s mumbled directions and occasional snatches of maudlin poetry, and manhandles him easily onto the bed. It’s barely midafternoon -- the sun hasn’t even begun to think about heading for the horizon -- but it feels like it should be later, like the sky should be darker. He’s not someone who walks under open sky and sunlight anymore.

“We should… talk,” Jaskier mumbles, head shoved into a pillow, and he can feel the weight of Geralt’s eyes on him again.

“Jaskier, you’re drunk.”

“‘S why I said we should talk.” He drags himself up into a sitting position, ignoring the way the room seems to dip and wheel around him, and focuses only on Geralt. “Wouldn’t-- wouldn’t be able to say this if I wasn’t.”

“Jaskier--”

“I missed you.”

“I know.” Jaskier blinks at that, until Geralt makes a face and chokes out “I-- missed you too.”

“”S been a decade, Geralt, I would certainly hope you’d spent some of that time missing me.”

“More than I’d like to admit,” and oh, oh, that’s-- he’s-- Jaskier grabs for Geralt’s arm with both hands and drags him down onto the bed until he can slump against the unforgiving plane of Geralt’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” he says, to the universe at large and maybe a little bit to Geralt, and there are hands along his shoulders and that screaming feeling is back in his stomach. “I’m sorry. I can’t… I can’t do this.”

Geralt huffs, sharply, a prelude to something, so Jaskier cuts him off.

“I’m not the man you fell in love with. Not anymore.”

“Jaskier…”

He wants… he wants to ignore it. He wants to tuck his face back into Geralt’s shoulder and pretend like the last ten years were all a dream and that he doesn’t have just as much blood on his hands as any warlord, like he’ll look up and they’ll be somewhere in the back-end of Sodden hunting drowners for a silver penny a head. But he is drunk and he is tired and there is a little voice in the back of his head chanting be all my sins remembered and Geralt…

He’s not the man that Geralt fell in love with. He hasn’t been for a long time.

“I… I killed people,” he starts out with, because that seems like as good a place to start with as any. “I ordered their deaths because they were going to destabilize my fucking empire, and I attended their execution, and I tried not to start any more wars but it doesn’t really help that I’ve got rebels on half a dozen borders and if I want to manage overland trade at all I’ve got to find a way to manage them, and I’ve sunk the ships of my brother’s generals because I was too scared they were going to start a rebellion and I should have just fucking given everything back and pretended like Valdo never even existed but I didn’t and now I’ve got an empire and I’m just a bard, Geralt--” and it turns out, in the end, that the scream in his stomach was actually a sob, now that a decade’s worth of pain has caught up to him, “and everyone thinks that I’m some kind of warlord even though everything I’ve done has been to try to make it all better and I never wanted so much as a fucking Viscounty.” Because that’s just the cherry on the fucking cake.

He snorts, thunks his head back against Geralt’s bicep. “Do you remember Idalia? Because I had her killed, when she tried to-- to make a puppet of me and take over the navy. She put me on this throne, and I repaid that with an axe. How could you possibly still think I’m worth--

Geralt covers his mouth with a hand and hums at him, warm and familiar like an oft-remembered bruise, or perhaps an old scar, and settles Jaskier back against the headboard while he strips off his boots and the leather arming jacket, all the Redanians left him of his armor, the movements like something out of a dream. Remembered and yet not. “I know.”

Jaskier lets out half a startled noise and chokes the rest back, because maybe all of this really is a dream--

“I’ve heard what people say about you in taverns.”

“And?”

“And I wished I could have stayed with you anyways,” he says, and scoops Jaskier back into his arms like he never really left.

~

Geralt hadn’t let go, even as Jaskier’s heart eased back into its normal beat with just the faintest of pauses beforehand, even as all the pain of the paralysis caught up with him and he let it all out in desperate dry sobs, and his lips didn’t leave Jaskier’s skin, either.

He just-- stayed there, cradling him, even as the fire burned down to smoking embers and the slow breathing of the night crept over them, and his lips stayed pressed against Jaskier’s temple, where the pulse beat close under the skin.

Things… changed, after that.

When Jaskier was well enough to stay on Roach’s back with a minimum of wobbling, Geralt led them both to an inn and practically carried Jaskier upstairs, his hands horribly, horribly gentle right up until Jaskier had wrapped his own shaking fingers around the cut of his jaw and dragged him down for a kiss, and then for more.

That first time had been sloppy, horribly so, Jaskier still trembling-weak and Geralt terrified of hurting him more, but he’d held him as close as ever afterwards, and the time after that--

Jaskier hadn’t gained the reputation he had in only four years as a wandering bard for no reason, after all.

And it’d been-- more, at the same time. No early mornings fleeing a married lover’s bed, no spurned affections, no bedazzled flings with nobility for a week or a month or a day before right back onto the mud and blood and dirt of the Path -- no, now he woke in the same pair of arms every morning, felt the weight of Geralt’s fond frustration and his pride and the desperate, desperate love he held, even as they watched the world fall apart around them under his brother’s sword.

“I’ll keep you safe,” Geralt promised, one night after wandering through ruined village after ruined village with only the stray dogs and witcher-wary nekkers for company. “No matter what.”

Jaskier just tucked his face into Geralt’s throat, ignoring the way his stubble burned, and wished with everything he has in him that that were true.

Previous / Next

[manic-pixies-dream-girl]

champagne supernova

genre: angst & fluff

word count: 1.7k

warnings/tags: brief anxiety, panic, alcohol, mentions of weed, mentions of the dark mark

summary: the reader and adrian are old friends with an unkindled love for one another.

a/n: i wanted to try writing adrian pucey, and i probably wont end up getting his character right (sorry in advance). this is one of the pieces that belongs to my song birds collection, this one is based on the song champagne supernova by oasis. i hope you enjoy this mediocre writing. (let me know if i need to add anymore warnings or tags)

navigation

The window glass was chilling in contrast against her heated face. The party was still bustling with life and frevor after what seemed to have been ages. But in reality, the party had only begun a mere two hours before she had decided to rest her head against the glass.

It’s been 24 minutes since that decision. She could’ve fooled people with the thought that she was asleep or passed out.

Not really feeling like sitting against the window any longer, she moved to point her head to where she knew the crowd would be and opened her eyes.

After nearly half an hour of staring at the back of her eyelids, the stark lighting of the venue was blinding. The faces beginning to come back to focus again, she noticed a number of them from school, and among many other pureblood prejudice families like her own.

It’s all bloody stupid in her opinion. Though the same can’t be said for some of her peers.

She, at last, stood up from where she had been seated for far too long, and she wobbled in stance due to her quite numb legs and weak ankles. She cursed at her mother for making her wear heels as she placed a hand against the wall for a moment to regain her balance.

Catching a glimpse of the exit sign, she began weaving her way through the crowd of people.

She had nearly made it to the door when a woman stepped back a few mere centimeters and ended up colliding with her. Just her luck.

The woman turned and spotted her, ever so awkwardly righting herself. Narcissa Malfoy, a beauty she was with her striking white blonde hair and gorgeous blue eyes.

“I apologize, Mrs. Malfoy, I didn’t mean to knock into you. Though for what it’s worth, it is good seeing you again.” She stated hastily, placing her hand on Narcissa’s arm.

“Oh dear, no need to apologize, though I do hope you're doing well,” Narcissa remarked with a loving smile. And she couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“I’m doing just fine, thank you Narcissa.” She rushed out in a much quicker manner than she intended. At that, she then gave Narcissa’s arm a last squeeze and yet again resumed attempting to make her way for the door.

She grabbed the cold metal handle and pushed the door opening it. “Perfect,” she mumbled seeing that the door opened up to a stairwell. Moving towards the flights, she began climbing to where she would hopefully find the roof.

Finally reaching the top after eight levels of stairs, her legs were tingling and her muscles burned, also considering the fact that she was still clad in heels. Taking a moment to regain her breath, and attempting to get some sort of feeling back in her legs, she moved to open the door that would lead her to the roof.

She was left to pull out her wand to unlock the door. “Alohomora.” She whispered, motioning the wand and hearing the click of the lock. She then pushed the door open and stepped outside onto the roof platform.

It was still damp from a drizzle that had only just finished, what seemed to have been minutes before she moved away from the party. She stepped out further, moving to the cement ledge of the roof. She saw that the sun was nearly set and that the lights of London were beginning to brighten in contrast to the growing darkness that would soon accompany them.

The sun's last rays were a deep orange shining through the buildings. She felt surreal in those moments, the sun taking its last breath before divulging beneath the skyline of the city, and the wind brushing against her skin sending shivers of gooseflesh up her arms to her shoulders.

She closed her eyes and she’d have never noticed a tear sneak through the brim of her eyelids and snake down her cheek if it weren’t for the wind cooling it against her flesh.

That's how he found her. Hands propping herself up on the ledge, in a silk black dress cascading down to the middle of her thighs, and of all the things crying while basking in the last sunlight. He thought her the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

He’d brought up a bottle of expensive champagne from the party below, hoping to spend some time with her. He smiled at the thought, remembering the way he’d fancied her since their years at Hogwarts. They’d become quite good friends back then but sadly their friendship had withered quite a bit since their petty school years.

She quickly wiped the tears that had escaped, before she turned to the door hearing it close. That’s when she saw him, she smiled when she noticed that it was Adrian. He was dressed in a tailored black suit that fit him ever so nicely, and the shirt underneath was white and the first two buttons were undone to where she could see his collarbones and part of his chest.

Her eyes then flickered to the bottle he was holding. He noticed and raised the bottle, and an eyebrow accompanied by a smirk. It would be a lie if she said she didn’t miss him.

“Come up here to get me drunk, have you?” She reprimanded, as he moved to accompany her by the ledge.

“No, not exactly. I was hoping to get high as well.” He answered in a teasing manner, moving his hand to reach inside the pocket of his trousers, he pulled out a metal case, with what she could only assume was weed.

“Ah..so mixing our poisons now?” She queried, tilting her head at him as he placed the case on top of the ledge. Noting the way he looked with his tousled chocolate locks, and how a few strands left resting against his brow. He’s undeniably handsome, even more so than when they’d gone to Hogwarts.

She made a move to grab the bottle. When she did this, he saw the mark flash on her left forearm. He grabbed her wrist quickly before she even had time to realize what was happening. She was scared for a moment, scared of how he would react.

She studied his facial expressions carefully as he too examined her arm. He finally flicked his golden-brown eyes up to meet her sacred ones. He was concerned and worried for her, but he had no need to say it, she knew.

She selfishly pulled her arm away hoping that the tension would dissolve, and grabbed the bottle before he could realize it. He watched as she pointedly avoided his gaze, and aimed the cork away from them, and pulled it out causing it to spew a bit onto the already wet cement.

The bottle was so quickly raised to her lips and she drank, she didn’t move the bottle from her mouth for a long few seconds. She’d drank nearly a quarter of it in those moments.

He stepped forward carefully and tried to take the bottle from her hand, she resisted at first but then let go. He set it down to accompany the metal case in the ledge. He pulled her into him placing his arms around her protectively as she nestled into him.

Her breath shuddered and she let out a sob. She’d done so well at holding it together until then. She didn’t want to burden him with all of her issues, that's why she’d dwindled their friendship in the first place. She knew that it was an inevitable outcome so she never allowed herself to get close to anyone.

She tried pushing against his broody figure and backing up a few steps. “You're not oblig- obligated to be here with me Adrian.” She stuttered out still crying and breathing heavily. He only stared at her, tears still streaming down her face, eyes puffy and red, her lips moistened by the fallen tears.

“Don’t let me burden you.” She murmured, her lips formed a pout and she crossed her arms over herself protectively. He couldn't fathom how she’d think that he’d not want to be there for her like he’d been all those times before. It hurt him seeing her like this, and she was pushing him away.

“I’m not here for you. I’m here because I miss you and I don’t know how much longer I can go without you there with me too. You said we’d be together forever, through everything.” His speech made her cry harder. “I’m here for you and I know you’ll be there for me as well. So stop trying to push me away, don’t close yourself off.”

He pulled her back and hugged her, this time to where she couldn’t push away. “I love you.” He whispered mostly to himself.

She pulled her head away from where it was placed on his shoulder. She looked into his eyes and noticed for the first time that they had flecks of green in them. She then glanced down to his lips, a peachy color tinting them, though paler due to the darkness surrounding them.

He looked into her eyes as well noting how they still shined with the glossy tears. He placed his hands on either side of her face and used his thumbs to wipe the tears away. He didn’t notice himself leaning down, but his nose was close to touching her cheek and she had opened her mouth a little.

They were breathing each other's air. His eyes flicked up to hers for a moment only to see that she was just as eager. He closed the gap between their lips, the kiss they shared was full of years worth of passion and unshared love for one another.

Their lips moved together smoothly but quickly making it a messier kiss. But it was perfect for them. He moved one of his hands down to hold her waist and left the other to snake to the back of her neck.

They pulled away both breathing heavily, only to rest their foreheads against each other. The supernova of lights surrounded them and their champagne tainted lips.

He let out a breathy laugh. “You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that.” She smiled back at him.

“I have some idea.”

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

Silly Little Symphony - Bakugou Katsuki

Track 1: Paralyzer- Finger Eleven

—/—

Bakugou is not a fan of half-assing things.

He hates it, despises it actually. Bakugou feels like anything worth doing deserves 100% effort, and if you give it any less than that you might as well not even attempt it in the first place. That’s his motto and that’s what he sticks with and that’s what he’s doing right now, too. Obviously.

Except- why does it feel like he has to convince himself?

It’s like there’s this lingering feeling in his mind that he’s taking the easy way out. That he’s taking the cheater’s way out, but it’s- there’s just no other choice, alright?

Bakugou knows he’s a brave guy, knows that he could shred anything he set his sights on, but by that very same logic, he’s knows even more that he’s not a very soft guy. His feelings for you are his feelings, and yes he might acknowledge them, but that doesn’t mean he could ever communicate them delicately. Even when he runs fantasy scenarios in his head, the words still come out all wrong. They’re too loud and too brash and too forceful and you always end up offended.

Bakugou doesn’t want you to end up offended- at leasy more than you already have. So, he quickly decided on a different method of communication.

A playlist.

A playlist full of songs that convey what he’s been wanting to, but also sound angry and scary and tough- because he’s a tough guy who listens to nothing but rock and punk and metal, and has definitely has not searched up songs with your name in the title before, and has definitely not then added those songs to his library. Because that’s ridiculous and soft, and like determined before, Bakugou Katsuki is not soft.

What he actually is, is a guy with a playlist full of specially-curated songs. And a guy with absolutely no idea how to give them to you.

The thing is, he’s read manga and watched movies and read all sorts of articles about these types of confessions (not that he’d ever admit that), but none of those felt like him. He was not a smooth talker or a brazen flirt or even just a kind guy- no, Bakugou was mean and loud, and he knew full well that he’d much sooner be cast as the antagonist than the romantic lead.

So all of that was a problem, and then you also currently didn’t even like him. You made it very clear, though every sneer and comment and biting comeback, that only feeling you held for him was begrudging respect- and even that was only on the battlefield. Once he stepped out of the hero uniform than you were back to hating him, and he only made it worse with every childish insult he threw your way. Bakugou knew it was a stupid way to get your attention, but it was also the most efficient one; and he was a man of efficiency.

So that left him here- pining the same way he had been for weeks, staring down into a playlist full of songs he couldn’t figure out how to play for you.

He sneaks a look at you, red eyes just barely skimming over top of the bus seats. You’re sitting a few rows ahead, sharing a snack with Tsuyu.

Bakugou thinks you’re stupid. He thinks you’re stupid for eating junk food right before a day of training, and he thinks you’re stupid for choosing to sit all the way in front like a nerd, and most of all he thinks you’re stupid for sharing your snack with that damn frog face when he’s right there. And obviously much better in every comparable, concievable way. Obviously.

Bakugou presses his headphones more securely into ears, and slouches down deep into his seat. All he can see now is the back of the seat, and he thinks that’s a better alternative. At least it won’t piss him off- not like the sight of you, sitting up front and laughing where he can’t hear, will.

With a grunt, he hits shuffle on his playlist, turning the volume to max. He closes his eyes dropping his head against the window. Drum fills and a guitar riff flood his ears, and he’s relaxing a bit, sinking into the sound, and all is well and good until-

Well just look at that girl with the lights coming up in her eyes. She's got to be somebody's baby.

God dammit.

Fuck Phantom Planet. Bakugou thinks. Fuck them.

Then he’s growling as he hits the skip button, throwing his phone onto the seat next to him.

—/—

As it turns out, all Bakugou needed was to beat the ever-loving shit out of something.

Cracking his palms and shaking his limbs, Bakugou launches at another robot. He thinks the machines feel weak under his explosions, almost offensively feeble in their construction. Like all of U.A’s staff went braindead that morning- like they couldn’t even bother to cook him up a worthy opponent.

When Bakugou looks around, that’s clearly not a shared statement. There’s the usual standouts of course, stupid deku and stupid icyhot and even stupid dunce face is doing well for once, but the rest of them are average. Mediocre. Completely and utterly inferior to him- and then you enter.

Your quirk, blink, is a bit useless in this scenario, but you’re not letting that stop you. There’s purpose in your movements, quick and controlled actions as you strap your home-made bombs around the base of each robot’s leg. Machines don’t blink, so you’re shit out of luck for your main speed ability, but your training makes up the difference. With practiced ease you’ve darted out from beneath the robot’s feet, and then you’re hitting the detonate on your remote.

Bakugou thinks you look unreasonably fucking cool as you sprint away from the blast. So cool in fact, that he might even consider your tech explosions as cool as his quirk ones. Maybe.

Bakugou wipes his palms, muffling a yawn. He’d blown up all his assigned robots ages ago, and now was left kicking rocks and generally doing nothing.

This training was supposed to act as a benchmark test- the idea was to drop a similar opponent into the ring, one that emulated the entrance exam, to test how far everyone had come since the beginning of the semester. It could’ve been good in theory, but Bakugou thought it was just a waste of time. Robot’s were easy for him then and they sure as hell were easy for him now.

Still though, he was the first one to kill all his robots, so not all was lost. Bakugou still walked away a winner and that meant he was feeling much better than earlier.

Smirking with shameless pride, Bakugou saunted to the exit area. More students began to file in after him, and he kept mostly quiet, but he couldn’t keep his mouth shut when you walked past him.

“Fuckin’ fifth? With your overpowered-ass quirk?” He sneers, voice loud. “Waste of talent.”

Bakugou watches spin on your heels, watches your face melt into something deadly. You’re storming towards him, and he can’t even think past hoping you’d get a little closer.

“Robot’s don’t fucking blink, you jackass.” You’re red in the face and glaring, hands curling into fists at your sides. “You try getting. anything done without your quirk. Asshole.”

Then you’re stomping away, hardly giving him a second look as you cheer on your friends.

Bakugou can’t even begin to decipher what possessed him, to say those words, but he’s also not surprised. His words always come out wrong and he can’t say anything nice without wanting to scratch away his skin.

What he really wanted to say was that you were impressive even without your quirk. That you were admirably smart and tactical and well-prepared with your own bombs, and he thought that you looked really hot sprinting away from the wreckage- but that’s not what he said. Of course that’s not what he said.

Well, there goes his good mood. No amount of previous wins could ever distract him from how much of a loss that interaction was.

Eventually the rest of the class finishes, and then they’re all gathering breathless and tired back to the bus. Unfortunately, Kaminari fried himself completely and Mineta managed to break an ankle and that meant that they needed their own seats. That also meant that two people who had their own seats on the ride there, would now be sharing on the way back.

As shitty luck would have it, the class chose drawing straws as the deciding factor, and even worse than that, Bakugou got the shortest straw. The day was already shaping up to be pretty frustrating, but when you pulled the second-shortest straw it got even worse.

“We can always share instead, L/n!” Tsuyu’s says, hand on your shoulder and voice mediating. “Really. I don’t mind.”

Bakugou watched you sigh for a moment, and then you’re turning your head towards him. Your eyes meet his and Bakugou can’t help the smirk that rolls across his face- you’re looking at him and paying attention to him and even if it’s just you making a point he still likes that attention. He watches you squint your eyes at him in response, voice hard and steely as you speak to Tsuyu.

“No. It’s alright. We picked staws, and fair is fair.” Your squint morphs into a glare. “And besides, I’m not gonna let that smug bastard throw a fit into getting out of this.”

The statement should piss him off, and if anyone else said it it would’ve, but Bakugou finds it does the opposite. It just reaffirms how brave you are and how you’re not scared of him like everyone else is and how much he likes you for it- not that he’d ever tell you any of those things.

To save face, Bakugou instead pretends to be pissed about your words, his palms popping and crackling as he glares right back. He hopes it looks like a genuine threat and not a panic reaction, because really he just thinks you look so cool talking back to him directly like that and he definitely doesn’t know what to do with that. So instead he does what always works; what always makes him feel better when he gets a feeling too big to handle- he preps to blow shit up.

“Calm down, man. It’s just a seat.” Kirishima comes up behind him, pressing a water bottle into Bakugou’s crackling palms. “Here, take this and please don’t blow up the bus. Or L/n. That’d be so totally not heroic of you.”

“Shut the hell up.”

“No I’m serious, dude. Chill out, okay? L/n’s actually pretty nice once you get to know her.”

“I said, shut the hell up, Shitty Hair!” Bakugou barks, gritting his teeth.

Then he’s shoving his palms into his pockets, leaving Kirishima and the water behind, and stalking towards the bus before anyone else does. Bakugou figures that if he’s got to share a seat, then at least he’s going to be the one sat next to the window. He’ll make sure of it.

Still, there’s something sitting heavy in his stomach though- how does Kirishima know you’re nice?

The comment made his blood boil. Bakugou thinks it’s strange because usually he’s pretty tolerant of his friend, and even finds himself enjoying his company sometimes, but those words pissed Bakugou off. Pissed him off a lot.

”Wow, don’t look so goddamn thrilled.” You say sardonically, and Bakugou watches you drop into the seat next to him. “Might accidentally think you tolerate me, blasty.”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that. Useless extra.”

Bakugou wants to smash his head into a wall- because why the fuck did he just say that?

Oh yeah, because apparently his jealousy was plastered all over his face, clear enough for you to comment on it. And even if you didn’t know that’s what the expression was, he’d still rather bite your head clean off than admit it was there in the first place.

“Yeah, whatever. I don’t want to fight.” You say, clenching your jaw as you settle back into the seat. “Look, it’ll be easier for both of us if we don’t talk, so I’ll just sit here and not bother you, alright?”

“Fine. Shut the hell up then.”

Once again, Bakugou wants to obliterate himself.

He doesn’t know why he can’t just tell you- why he can’t just say that he wants you to keep talking to him and that he wants you to keep snarking back at him. Why he can’t just say that he thinks your voice is one of the least grating ones in the whole class.

He thinks all of those things, but says none. Instead he keeps a fist clenched as his sides, scowling as he pulls out his headphones. He makes an intentional effort not to play your playlist and instead hits shuffle on all his music. He’d hoped that the loud drums and guitars would settle his emotions, but they didn’t. Nearly 10 minutes have passed and Bakugou’s as riled up as ever, but he’s also now completely convinced you’re trying to kill him.

You’re shifting in your seat, your arms extending out as you slip on your jacket. There’s little room, and every time you shuffle the sleeves to adjust them, you’re knocking your shoulders into his.

Then you stop.

You just stop and you go still and his skin isn’t tingling anymore and Bakugou is all kinds of pissed all over again. Because of you he’s nervous and flustered and you have the audacity to just sit there, unaffected. He has to snarl just to keep himself from blushing when he speaks.

“Why the fuck were you touching me?”

“It’s a small seat and I was putting on a jacket.” You reply, short and clipped. “I don’t know what you expect me to do about it.”

“Tch. Just don’t do it again. And shut up the fuck up already.”

“You- you talked to me first!”

“And? Who the fuck cares?” Bakugou grunts, turning the volume of his music up. “Now shut up.”

Jesus christ. Bakugou thinks to himself. Maybe I should just blow myself up for once.

Another few minutes pass, and Bakugou swears he’s really is dying. You’re still so close to him and he’s feeling very, very flustered, and while he doesn’t love the idea that you’re mad at him, he can’t say he hates the look on your face right now either. You’ve got your jaw clenched and your eyebrows set low and your hands are balled into fists as you steadfastly ignore him. Bakugou thinks you look scary- fucking terrifying.

He likes terrifying.

“Hey.” You suddenly nudge him with your shoulder, pointing to his earbuds. “I can hear it- your music. Turn it down.”

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

“Because that’s basic courtesy.”

“What the fuck makes you think I have that, hah?”

“Oh my god, you’re fucking impossible.” You rolls your eyes, heaving a frustrated sigh. “Listen, if you’re gonna keep it up that loud then at least skip that song. It’s shit.”

Bakugou glances down at his screen.

Fucking Nickleback.

Jesus, could his day get any worse?

“Shut the hell up.” He snaps, squinting his eyes. “What the fuck do you know about good music? You don’t know shit.”

“I know that song sucks, so skip it. If you’re gonna accost me with loud music at least make it good.” You bite back, and then Bakugou watches as your face melts into an easy smirk. “Unless... all your music is that terrible?”

“Sounds like you’re pickin’ a fuckin’ fight!”

“I am, you asshole!”

Bakugou doesn’t know when the two of you got so close, but now you’re only inches away. He’s got his palms up and you’ve got your lips pulled back into a snarl and suddenly the bus seat seems so much smaller. It’s so much smaller and all Bakugou can think about is the red in your cheeks and the fire in your eyes and how much he likes the sight of both.

“Just skip the song or turn it down.” You finally huff, falling back in your seat, and all Bakugou can think about is how that breathe would’ve been on his cheek if it was two seconds ago.

Bakugou is mad. He’s mad at you and your stupid witch powers that leave the air feeling cold and your stupid breaths that he can’t stop focusing on and your stupid comment. Your stupid comment that had his blood burning in his veins and irritation settling in his temple.

Bakugou listened to cool music, okay? Cool, loud music for cool, loud guys. You just insulted that, insulted him so this wasn’t just a means of confessing feelings anymore, it was a pride thing and that’s why he says what he said next. It’s definitely not because this was the golden chance he’d been waiting for.

“My music is fuckin’ good.” He growls, and then he’s yanking an earbud out and shoving it towards you. “I’ll fucking show you. Now shut up and listen.”

“So goddamn pushy, jesus.”

“You gonna fuckin’ take it or not?”

“Oh my god. Fine.”

Bakugou watches you fit the earbud into your ear, his mouth set into a determined line. He knew he’d fucked up every other part of this conversation, monumentally fucked them up even, but he wouldn’t mess this up. He was prepared and this was the chance he was waiting for. Only an absolute idiot could mess this up and Bakugou Katsuki was not an idiot.

So he plays the first song he’d added to your playlist. Paralyzer.

To his surprise, you start nodding your head almost immeadiately. You know this song. The drum fill starts and then you’re looking over at him, giving him the tiniest little smirk of approval.

“Not bad, blasty.”

“Fucking told ya.” He can’t help the pride that swells in him at your validation. It’s warm and heavy in his chest, nearly drawing a smile out of him- and then he remembers he’s supposed to be mad. “And I told you, don’t fucking call me that.”

“I’ll call you by your name when you call me by mine.”

“Wipe the smirk off your stupid fucking face,” Bakugou growls. “Or I’ll blast it off.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes! Fuckin’ try me, extra!”

“Okay.” You huff a laugh at him. “Don’t blink then. Champ.”

Then you’re raising your hand, shoving it in his face and snapping before he can stop you. Bakugou flinches out of reflex and by the time he’s opened his eyes, you’ve already used your super-speed ability.

You’re sitting back against the seat, calm and collected and smirking, with both of Bakugou’s earbuds in your ears. You’ve got his phone in your hand and he watches you twist the cord around your finger, cross your legs casually and he’s stunned. He’s pissed that you got the better of him, but he also just really thinks you’re hot when you’ve won. He watches in dazed silence as you turn up the volume on his phone to max.

Well I'm not paralyzed, but I seem to be struck by you. I want to make you move because you're standing still.

Bakugou decides two things in that moment: One, he fucking hates Finger Eleven. And two, he wants to blow the entire fucking bus to smithereens.

—/—

eee i hope u all enjoy, but especially u @bakugouswh0r3 and @definitelynottrin :))

[armageddonouttahere]

God Forbid He See An Ankle

So, I’ve recently become very invested in @coconut-cluster ‘s uni au because it’s fabulous and amazing, and I’m also trying to get into the habit of writing on a daily basis, so I thought why not take something I really enjoy and try to write about it? (based off this ask)

“Remus- dammit, hands off! No no no, don’t play that! It’s the wrong vibe!”

Janus watches in amusement as he sees Remus push himself forward again, reaching for the phone just out of grasp in Roman’s hand. He tries to preserve at least a little dignity when he ducks Remus’ flailing arms once Roman pushes him back yet again with a palm to the face.

“What’s the wrong vibe, Rome-bro? We’re celebrating!” Remus exclaims.

“Any song with the word ‘boner’ in it isn’t an appropriate mood.” Roman says firmly, shooting a look at Patton from the passenger’s seat. Patton looks like he is trying his best to stay focused on the road despite the chaos occurring in the minivan.

“You ruin all the fun. Isn’t that right, Virgil?” Remus crows, draping himself over the back of his seat to stare at Virgil- who was currently taking up the entire back row.

“Bold of you to assume this is fun,” came the dry response. Janus snorted, covering his face with his hand in an attempt to compose himself. As with any plan put together by these five, it was bound to be a disaster- well, not exactly a disaster, but the widely varying opinions between them usually allowed for making any normal outing completely chaotic and out of hand. Especially when Remus and Patton put their heads together.

“Oh come on, Virgil, don’t act like that!” Patton said in a cheerful chirp, turning into the parking garage of his and Logan’s apartment complex. After surprising Logan with their attendance, they all agreed to go out and celebrate after the successful competition. Logan, who had driven there in his own car, went back to Patton and his shared apartment, with Patton tailing close behind.

They all crowd through the doorway into the small apartment, cheers and congratulations bestowed on Logan, who seemed to be in his room. Janus walks in behind Virgil, watching in amusement as Roman tries to find a rhyme for ‘archery’. He supposes, out of all of his arch-rival’s mediocre talents, archery was one that he was… well. He wasn’t terrible.

Janus scoped the room, taking in everyone’s chatter when his eyes landed on Logan. In his room. Changing. Logan, in his room, changing. Changing out of his (snug, tight-fitting, sexy) hideous archery uniform and back into his regular clothes. 

Janus found himself moving forward into the doorway- without willing his feet to step forward. Janus greedily took in the line of Logan’s spine, the movement of his shoulder blades. The muscles shifting beneath his skin. Janus’ left hand twitched as the thought came, unbidden, to rest his palm on the back of Logan’s neck, feeling the movement for himself.

Then Logan finished putting on his shirt and turned around. The spell broke.

“Hello, Jan- uh, Peters,” said Logan, a smile on his face. The glow of victory made him much more amicable. Janus despised it. He had been shirtless. Shirtless. As in without a shirt. 

“Aswbjdbuh,” came Janus’ enlightening reply.

“Pardon?” Logan’s eyes twinkled in amusement as he picked up his glasses from the dresser and put them on, pushing them up into his hair. Soft-looking curls fell into his forehead anyway.

“Uhhhhh…” How witty. You’re an absolute moron. An utter fool  who - he was shirtless! Dear lord, he was… gorgeous. So fucking gorgeous. “I’ll be right back.”

Janus spun on his heel, praying his face wasn’t as red as he feared it might be. Walking at a brisk pace and making sure to look nowhere but the ground underneath his feet in an attempt to prevent himself from seeing any more glimpses of gorgeous people randomly taking their clothes off to specifically fuck with Janus. What he didn’t account for, however, was Roman’s ever-present talent for being an absolute asshole who won’t move out of the damn way.

“Where ya going, Janus?” He smiled, grin so wide he could give the Cheshire Cat a run for its money.

“Car.” Keep it short, keep it simple. If you don’t talk, you won’t accidentally say something mortifying... like how you noticed freckles on Logan’s shoulders. “Forgot something.” He pushed past Roman, prepared for some revealing and/or teasing comment.

“What did you forget? Some weak excuse to hide behind instead of confronting your feelings?”

Janus stumbled down the staircase like a drunk man, trying to keep his feet in a straight line. He was feeling very dizzy, something that probably required medical attention. Maybe he should leave, go see a doctor. In another country. Janus scrambled into the car and sat down, head in his hands.

This was a bad idea. Now left alone without distraction, Janus’ mind decided it didn’t have to stop thinking about Logan now. What would it be like to touch him? Feel his skin beneath your hands? Janus remembered how close they had been in the library, pictured the piercing stare of Logan’s eyes. New scenarios worked themselves out in Janus’ head, now filled with flexing biceps, shoulder blades, and back dimples.

A very, very embarrassing sound left Janus’ mouth when the door slid open with a bang. Virgil was behind it, somehow looking amused and disappointed at the same time.

“Ready to come back? We’re all getting ready to leave.” Virgil said. He stared at Janus like he knew every thought inside his head.

“No, I think I’ll stay here until everyone comes down.”

“Okay. I’ll leave you to your… thoughts.” Virgil began to close the door. “Oh, yeah. Lo asked about you. Wanted to know if you were feeling alright.”

Janus was so, so fucked.