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spiderlandry · 10 months

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YOUR BLOG>>>>

i had a chad idea that i think you would write so well!! can you please do a singer!reader x chad fic where the reader is a famous singer and chad goes their concerts and already knows all the words to the songs and he’s just super fun and supportive?

thank you so much!

this is such a cute idea <3 i used to dream of being a singer when i was a kid (until i realized i was bad LOL) so this kinda felt nostalgic for some reason. i’ve also never been to a concert so sorry if it’s not accurate!

100 follower event

warnings: mentions of ghostface murders, kissing, established relationship, takes place (kinda) way into the future lol, not proofread i apologize

voice — chad meeks-martin

Chad had never been more proud in his life.

You’re in the dressing room, sitting at the vanity mirror about two hours before the show starts. You’d been talking to Chad who is sitting on the tiny couch while you bounce with nervousness in your seat. It’s your biggest show yet, and though you’ve performed time and time again during the tour, the fact that it’s thousands of people coming to see you still makes you giddy.

“God, I’m fucking nervous.” You look to him with those puppy eyes that endeared you to him when you first met in college.

He stands up and walks over to you, cupping your cheek. “I’m so proud of you, alright?”

You smile, putting your hands around his torso. (You’ll never get used to the feeling of his abs.)

“How did I get so lucky, hm?” You whisper. “I can’t believe you’re here.” And he knows you’re not just referring to how he’s gone overseas, paying out of his own pocket—though you offered to pay, he refused—just to see you perform. (You still gave him a discount.) You’re also referring to everything you’ve gone through together, including the ghostface murders.

“I think that’s my line,” he grins. “You’ll do great out there, by the way. I’ll be down there singing along, as always. And…I gotta go.”

“Do you really have to go?”

“You know I have to, I need to get a good view.”

“You always have a good view of me, though.”

“Oh, yeah?” He snickers, leaning in for a kiss.

“Yeah.” You slot your lips over his, melding together perfectly as it always had been.

You pull back first, and he almost whines.

“You’re the one who said you have to go, remember? Get a good view.” You tap his chest as he pouts.

“Well, Anika’s probably coming soon anyway. I don’t wanna face her wrath.”

For previous concerts, you hired Anika as your head costume designer as she studied fashion design and it worked out well because you were already friends—so you decided to take her on tour as part of the team.

As if on cue, the door opens and Anika is standing at there, beautiful as ever.

“Hey,” Chad drags out the word, like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. “Look who we have here, what a surprise, eh?”

Anika rolls her eyes, unsurprised at Chad’s antics, almost annoyed. But the slight upturn of her lips says otherwise. “Go. They need to get dressed, dingus.”

As she pushes him out of the room, he exclaims, “Dingus is my thing!” while the door closes on him.

“How do you feel now that he’s your brother-in-law?”

She scoffs, laughing. “Don’t remind me.”

Chad chants your name along with the crowd, cheering as you appear on stage and began to sing the first song.

Your voice is still as angelic as the first time he heard it in freshman year during karaoke night. He practically swoons when you spot him in the crowd and flash him a smile, people around him screaming as they might have thought it was them you looked at, but he will always know that smile is for him. Only him.

He watches you play the crowd as if it’s your birthright. The audience sing with you, the packed stadium lighting up with the glowing wristbands given at the start of the show.

It’s at the end of the setlist when you begin to talk.

“Before the last song, I would just like to play something extra,” You say, out of breath from the performance. The audience cheers. “This song isn’t even released yet, so I don’t know how it’s gonna go—I didn’t rehearse.” You laugh.

Chad wonders what song it is—you didn’t tell him, typically he’d know if you planned to do something different.

“I wanna dedicate it to somebody in the audience, somebody who…” You scan your eyes to find him in the crowd, and everyone around him gawks. “Somebody who has supported me from the beginning, right there,” You point, and he laughs out of disbelief. “Chad, I love you.”

After a brief moment, you add, “And please don’t make fun of his name, it’s a sensitive topic.”

They laugh as the song begins to play, the boom of the bass overtaking the speakers, and your voice floods the area once again.

Tears line his eyes. You’d played this song for him only once before, but it was so long ago. It was in his dorm room, a few nights after he’d asked you to be his and you gathered the courage to show him songs you’ve worked on. Albeit the original was much less refined, only the bare bones of it, but he’d seen your potential and pushed you to start getting gigs at small places.

The nostalgia takes over like a wave. A tear falls, and unbeknownst to him, a fan films his reaction and posts it even before the concert ends.

DELETED SCENE

In your hotel room, you’re awake before Chad. You admire his sleeping features for a moment before you open your phone to see a text message from Anika.

Anika bby <3

saw this on instagram

[Attachment: 1 Video]

You press play, and end up tapping your boyfriend awake.

“Hm?” He murmurs groggily, sleep dripping off his voice. “What?” He rubs his eyes, and stares at you, trying to hold in a laugh.

“What’s so funny?” He asks.

“You cried last night?” You coo, and can’t help but giggle when he props himself up on his elbow a little too quickly and gets lightheaded.

“Who told you?”

You hand him the phone wordlessly.

He squints while the headache goes away, eyes widening when he finally sees clearly.

He grins at you, “So, what? Can I not cry over the love of my life dedicating a song to me?”

“You’re such a sap,” though you tease him, the prospect warms your heart.

And though he laughs, there’s a ring burning through a hole in his suitcase; if you’re calling him a sap now, he wonders what you’ll do when he makes his speech for your hand in marriage.

#chad meeks martin #chad meeks-martin #chad meeks fluff #chad meeks martin x reader #scream 6 x reader #scream 6 #scream vi #scream #scream x reader

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vocaliveparty · 8 months

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Night Sky Patrol of Tomorrow - Design, Effects, and Extra Notes.

Design

Designed and Modeled by Maydayfireball, with some touch ups from jjinomu ! I distinctly remember sending him to her and going "yeah i dunno what to do for his shoes" and her sending him back with "no shoes." so free feet pics i guess.

ANYWAY.. Some people caught it, but he was loosely inspired by the vocaloids in the "Empty" sekai of project sekai. He's intentionally fairly monochrome, so that the wings towards the end seem even more vivid. He's meant to appear a bit hopeless and messy, like he's really down on his luck. I imagine a Piko like this would be gentle, but a little sad most of the time.

Effects

There's two Big effect points for this one, so I'll go into both.

The first is the night sky. It has an intentionally painted, flat look. It's suppose to feel like the backdrop of a stage, not like a real night sky. Like he's performing, but his heart isn't in it quite yet. I added a light dust particle effect in as well to make a contrast between it and the still background to really hammer in it's falseness.

And then of course, the climax.

Using a flat black plane behind him, i abused mmd's transparency bug to display the artwork behind him through the wings.

The wings are also directly shaped from the wings shown in the MV.

This moment wasn't just a climax for this song, but a climax for the concert as a whole. Like Piko gaining hope and a better outlook for the future thanks to those who reached out to him honestly.

Extra Notes

BOY. I apologize in advance, i have SO MANY THOUGHTS about these lyrics. If you're an english speaker, I highly recommend watching it with the closed captions on. They're a bit on the nose, even without me digging into them.

「I'm a boy who picks his battles depending on whatever suits his mood」「No hopes for the future, I wanted to be drawn in a dream.」「and yet I fear the future- hating tomorrow, wishing for the past.」

These are the opening lines for the song. Coming off the back of our angry streaming heart piko who longed for the past, this version of him has given up. Like there is nothing left for him to do.

「Leaving the old me behind,」「but that night was different from all the others.」「You took my hand...」

I like to believe, in a way, Piko would be referring to the first Piko Live Party here. Like a moment of light in a dark future, You reached out your hand and supported him.

「If this is to end as a dream, at least allow me to change yesterday...」「I won't say anything like that, so let me keep smiling together with you, tomorrow as well.」

I've said it before, but we made the first Piko Live Party assuming it wouldn't get attention. We worked hard, but with the expectation that it wouldn't be seen by many. That's why, during this chorus, the backdrop is flat. Like a kid's play. Or, like not-quite-discovered potential.

「Even if I think that the world truly changed,」「and even if I tried to hope or change, the future was cruel.」

The screen goes darker, and the colors become fully monochrome. It's a bit like a reality check - We're supporting Piko, but aside from us, there's not much he can do to change his fate as a discontinued vocaloid.

「Even so, the world I always watched with you was truly beautiful.」「I still haven't forgotten that, I've placed it in my heart so I can remember.」

This is a Piko who's speaking to us from the present. I interoperate it as if he's referring to the rush of support he got, and how he'll always cherish it even if his future is bleak.

Of course, this is followed by what feelings and emotions you've given him. The colors burst forward, creating wings like the summer sky. They're a physical representation of your support and the future it's given him.

「I want to be together with you in the future, however short our time may be」「so I'll shout "Remember this day someday in the future, whoever we are then..."」

Again, I highly recommend watching this song in particular with the closed captions turned on. It really adds to it.

I was extremely happy when Mio picked this song to cover, because I knew immediately what direction I should take this concert in at that point. I knew what I wanted to do with it from the very beginning, and I couldn't be happier with how it turned out.

#design references #song breakdown #plp2023 #piko live party #WOW this one got super wordy #sorry about that #i tend to go overboard when it comes to concert narrative / stage design stuff

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braintapes · 1 year

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21, 30, 7 hehe

21. Art styles nothing like your own but you like anyways

Art styles that rely heavily on linework, or a solid ink kinda style, are SUPER cool. My usual style is 'glob of colors exploded haphazardly onto the canvas' so anything involving a lot of tiny detail ESPECIALLY with the lines makes me go heart eyes. I also really enjoy cartoony, exaggerated styles. I love love love super stylized facial expressions, they're SO fun.

Some examples of artists/artwork I really like and am inspired from:

Niccillustrates has a beautiful style that features solid, largely unshaded colors and gorgeous linework/inking, which is most obvious in their Undertale fan art. Seems like they've taken down a lot of their older stuff which is a shame, this piece is one of my absolute all time favorite inspirations of mine. The little lines in everything, especially the flowers...AGH!!! Here's a more recent work! The contrast is gorgeous and I adore the shapes in this so much.

Retroautomaton's art has this overall pleasantness and smoothness to it that makes me feel like I'm drinking a milkshake, but like in visual form. Here's a few pieces I especially like. The fluidity and sense of movement in the lines/figures along with the bright, poppy colors is just!!! so lovely!!!!

ArtsyDudeJude's pieces are so EXPRESSIVE!!! The way he really pushes facial expressions in particular is super inspiring - all his original character design stuff in general is tbh. I look at linework like his and go. man I couldn't do that but it looks SO GOOD. Here's some of my favorites!

Last one I swear but I wanna mention my pal Dana, RedEyesRetroDragon on here! The way she stylizes characters is SO fun and dynamic I love it a lot. I don't know barely a thing about ygo BUT I care these guys bc of Dana's art. PLUS her inking!!!! Holy woah! LOOK AT THIS PIECE!!! AND THIS ONE!!

30. What piece of yours do you think is underrated?

Hmm this is hard! Usually when I get reception on my art it's really kind and lovely and when I don't, I generally chalk it up to people just not being online/not seeing it at that time so I don't worry too much about it.

I suppose...since I draw a lot of fanart, it's easier for my original stuff to sort of slip by the wayside. So I'll use this one as an opportunity to gush a bit about this piece I did a little while ago!

People have left some really kind and sweet comments on it so I can't say it's underrated but it is my favorite original piece I've ever done. I felt clever about the caption because you can see it a few different ways - maybe 'taking form' refers to the canvas, reaching out and taking over the person. Or maybe the person is reaching IN, merging with the painting. Maybe the painting isn't taking form as in stealing, but taking form as in manifesting itself a human body. The possibilities are endless! Also I like the silly goofy expression here <3

OH AND WHILE I'M HERE. This piece is also not underrated but this was pretty cool too.

7. A medium of art you don't work in but appreciate

SO MANY!!!!! But the first one that comes to mind is photography! Photography is so cool and fascinating and while I don't think I could ever get /super/ into it, I have a huge amount of respect and admiration for the craft! A good photograph is SOOO satisfying to look at, like it's literally the art of composition and lighting!! How cool is that??

ALSO music!!! Gah I want to make my own music so badly!!! But there's SO MANY building blocks I'm finding it kind of difficult to learn. That said I have such an appreciation for people who make songs and sounds and things!! OH AND SOUND EFFECTS. EDITING. THAT'S AN ART TOO AND I LOVE IT.

Production work in general!!! To me it's art and it's beautiful and I want to be a part of it. If I could have any job in the world no questions asked, I would want to work in stage lighting. Concerts, theatre, idc, that kinda work is right up my alley. There's just something I adore about like, all the little details that go into making a production work that most people don't think about or notice because it's designed not to be noticed, but people still worked on it!!! People still put their time and effort and craftsmanship into it! <3 <3 <3

this is about to turn into a whole essay about all the different art mediums i love efjkdshajhg Sorry this is so long but i really can gush for hours about this stuff. Thank you so SO much for sending these!!!

#THANK U AGAIN #i have so much love in my heart for art #i also keep a folder full of art pieces i rly lke that ive reblogged over the years #im at almost 2000 images now and nowhere near done sorting everything

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lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar · 8 days

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favorite outfit russ has worn??

i love this question so much and i feel like i needed it right now, thank you very much anon.

okay let me see

but why does he look good in literally everything though

i'm. probably. okay i'm gonna have to pick a few(if only i could only choose a few) favorites. because i like them equally for different reasons. there were some that were very similar that i also like the same because it's the same vibe, like these ones:

so those ones i kind of group in my head as the same outfit. oH and the one he wore innnn the music from the spheres video from the old grey whistle test and the 1973 concert. wait i'm gonna add a gif from the concert here. that i haven't posted yet because the entire concert is half done in my drafts still.

okay one more

look at how PRETTYYYYYY

ANYWAY MOVING ON

i can't NOT like this one from the 1973 midnight special episode:

small and very open sparkly green top?????? with purple pants???? some of my favorite colors combined into one outfit???? on a man that i love?????

and just all of the tops like that liiike:

anyway moving on

okay wait i have to grab a screenshot from a video real quick because i don't have anything from it yet. because there's no full footage of it. anywhere. that i've found so far. and i'm not okay with that. but there are some bits.

wait i made some gifs from it instead of screenshot

because i couldn't look at this without having gifs because oh my god look at him

THIS is also beautiful and i wish there was more with him wearing this:

this one too because look at the designs on this:

AND THIS ONE:

okay i'm getting carried away, wait i have to get back on track to what i was thinking of before.

what was i thinking of before?

[an undetermined amount of time later]

OKAY I GOT IT I REMEMBERED i was going to say i also really love the outfits he wore later on around the 2000's-2010's that were just. like. he looks like just some guy. he looks like somebody's dad climbed on stage from the crowd. just jeans and a normal shirt. the way he IS literally just a normal guy while also not being a normal guy at all(in the best possible way)

like:

^ this last one is funny to me because

it's from this video and the way he's dressed like that while there's all the colorful flashing lights around him, it's like this is where most people would be all dressed up in fancy stage outfits

wait i'm getting so far off track here but i'm loving these comments on that video so i'm putting them here too:

also i love love love love the way the crowd sings with him in that, and that's the one where he hands the mic to somebody in the crowd so they can sing part of it and i love that so much and then the way he puts it back and he's like "HA HA" and just

okay anyway i could keep going with more outfits but i'll stop now, but this made me feel better today and i love you anon

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all-the-fun-of-the-cirkus · 5 months

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so here's every album i heard for the first time in 2023

grace under pressure (rush) - heard signals last year and loved it, so i thought i'd finally cracked rush. i have not cracked rush. it's the last two albums again, only not as good. best song - afterimage

the bends (radiohead) - i do not like 90s alt-rock, so i am very annoyed at how good this is. can't remember half the songs but as an album it works surprisingly well. best song - street spirit. or my iron lung if i'm in the mood

ok computer (radiohead) - a very good album! not enough classics to be the best album of all time!!!1!! i've come to see radiohead as possibly my favourite second-tier band; lots of great songs, not enough genuine genius. although the climbing up the walls/no surprises/lucky run of tracks is almost enough to convince me otherwise, bc this works really well as a cohesive album. the cacophony of fitter happier, electioneering and cutw makes no surprises sound like the most beautiful song on earth. best song - one of that run. probably lucky

king of limbs (radiohead) - three good songs on side two sandwiched within a load of dull noise. everything else off here sounds better live anyway; bloom in concert is just jawdropping, but this version's just enh. best song - give up the ghost

moon-shaped pool (look i was having a moment) - typical radiohead. lovely atmosphere, nothing offensive, just not enough great songs. best song - ful stop, although i'm warming to present tense

peter gabriel 1 (guess) - turns out sometimes you can just fuck around with no idea what you're doing and accidentally stumble into a pretty good album. best song - moribund the burgermeister (also best title)

hard promises (tom petty) - every petty album is three or four bangers and a load of enjoyable filler. best song - the waiting

a song for all seasons (renaissance) - perfectly listenable, and i haven't felt the desire to listen to anything off it since. best song - title track

the construkction of light (king crimson) - blah. self-ripoffs, monotonous, lifeless. get heavy construkction instead, everything from here comes to life and you get the best songs off thrak and some cool improvs too. best song - prozakc blues (yeah fuck you it's great)

transgender dysphoria blues (against me!) - shut up, i'm a cliche. pop punk is very much not my sort of thing, and most of this didn't leave as much of an impression as it has on a lot of people i know. one or two tracks did hurt, though. and the one-two punch of paralytic states and black me out is a nice way to round things out, i love black me out as a defiant "no things WILL get better if i have to fuck someone up to do it" closer. best song - true trans soul rebel

interview (gentle giant) - if anyone else listened to albums by against me! and gentle giant this year i'll be astonished lmao. anyway not the unlistenable trainwreck or complex masterwork people proclaim it to be, it actually feels kind of throwaway. all of the songs are okay (well, not convinced on timing or design) but together they don't quite work. best song - i lost my head, which absolutely rules

the missing piece (gentle giant) - this, however, absolutely warrants its reputation. best song - memories of old days

giant for a day! (gentle giant) - it's good! yeah, i said it! shame the only people who hear it are prog nerds, bc it's cheesy and dumb, and the lyrics are atrocious, but it's a solid pop album. best song - thank you (my version of the album has single edits as bonus tracks that shave a minute off this and words from the wise, and i think it's to both their benefits)

ode to quetzalcoatl (dave bixby) - it's fascinating how much more interesting hardcore christian folk becomes when you realise the singer's trying to convince himself just as much as he is the listener. an excellent, moody listen, although it's not something i'm gonna stick on regularly. best song - lonely faces i guess? it's not really an individual track album

i'm in your mind fuzz (king gizzard & the wizard lizard) - oddly disappointing. monotonous, barely enough ideas to fill out a regular song, let alone a 12 minute suite (i'm in your mind sounds great, cool riff, nice groove, and then it just... doesn't stop. it just keeps going). at times it brings out the sort of kitschy flaming lips quirkiness, when it becomes a bit more enjoyable, but it's fleeting. not impressed. best song - satan speeds up, i guess (can't count the opener as its own song, that'd be like saying my favourite track from wish you were here was shine on part 1 or something), although i do enjoy the intentional banality of her and i's song portion

fox confessor brings the flood (neko case) - at time of writing i've just listened to this for the first time. i'm going to have to listen to it a great deal more. sheer poetry, absolutely outstanding lyrics, evocative, cryptic, emotional, always compelling. the actual songs live up to them, too, and the arrangements! always interesting, spicy dissonance thrown in regularly, frenetic background playing that didn't have to be there but really enriches the songs... i'm going to have to digest this more. best song - margaret vs pauline

i'm not counting the gazillion king crimson live albums i listened to (guess who found the starless boxset going cheap!!!) or we'll be here all day. suffice to say chicago 2017 rules, mainz 1974 rules just as much and the night watch/amsterdam 1973 makes crimson sound like the greatest band in the world for eighty minutes (the other four minutes is lament)

#music

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bleedingheartbird · 1 year

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woah, it's been a while since I last had this dream...

dreamt I quit the media design studies and went into economy instead. got a dorm room all to myself, bathroom and mini kitchen included. did pretty well and befriended a metalhead down the hall. we were soulmates and would meet up regularly to listen to his legendary album collection. even went to a couple concerts and had the greatest time. was honestly ready to platonically spend the rest of my life with him.

he was beautiful and so sweet and nice and had great taste in music. but then one day he died under mysterious circumstances, his parents swooped in and sold off all his belongings, not even checking in with his friends if they'd like to have any of his things to remember him by.

went to a junky antiques/secondhand dealer who I heard had bought up the entire album collection. was too nervous to ask for it because the seller looked so mean and grumpy. then I started crying out of nowhere. just thinking about my dead friend and how we'd never get to hang out and listen to music together ever again. because he was gone. he was dead and gone. as was his collection.

the seller eventually took pity on me, I told him my sad tale, he said the collection he got from my friend's parents probably sold like crazy within a day or two, but he'd have a look for me. when we got to the box, it was almost empty as we both had feared. just a few singles I didn't much care about, none of the beloved albums left. I broke down in tears once again, crying my heart out while the seller tentatively gathered me into his arms, holding me through it.

I think I even woke up crying from this dream...

---

on a lighter note: there was another part of the dream (before the death of my metal soulmate part obviously) where I walked around a very well kept town (almost like these nice little holidays for your health type towns in the mountains or by the sea, you know the ones) at night, running through the lush grass of parks and over the smooth cobblestones of the roads, belting out Florence and the Machine songs at the top of my lungs (I remember Dog Days Are Over in particular, starting at "Run fast for your mother, run fast for your father," [...] "leave all your love and your longing behind, you can't carry it with you if you want to survive") which felt so great and liberating.

also dreamt I was on a boat on a big wide river, looking at the glimmering lights of the city along the shoreline. there were some buildings that looked so majestic, I felt they just had to be some type of fairytale style castle entrance to an amusement park (like legoland or something but more castle neuschwanstein themed)

also a short interlude of me living in a mash up of my hometown and a bigger city, and applying for a retail job at a popular clothing store. the ladies I interviewed with were real nice and I was actually looking forward to starting my work there (but then the dream shifted of course, as my dreams tend to do)

---

anyway, still rattled from the loss of my dreamt up metal soulmate who I haven't dreamt about in literal years. he's not real but I have the primal need to get him into my arms, hold him tight, and never ever ever ever let him go... tell him I love him dearly (platonically ofc) and that I'd always look out for him, take care of him, till my last breath. because I love him and our friendship and soulmate bond so so so much

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ageofnations · 2 years

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Seams of Gold (NSFW)

josh kiszka x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW 18+ ONLY!!!! unprotected penetrative sex (wrap it up plz!), spanking (once lmao), little hair pulling, praise kink, slight degredation, edging if you squint

Word Count: ~3k

A/N: this is the first bit of complete smut i’ve done and i don’t know how i feel about it so plz be nice. I just couldn’t get this image out of my head…especially since he wore it THREE times (so far). anyways, hope you enjoy! (Also this is not my picture!)

You felt dirty.

You felt like a little kid doing exactly what their mother warned them not to do.

It was a silly thing to feel such a thrill about, but Josh had made you promise not to open his concert closet. You had complained and whined about how much you loved his jumpsuits, that you wanted to see them up close and away from the bright lights of the stage, but he was adamant about it.

You were to not come near them.

He made some bullshit excuse of having his jumpsuits for future shows in the closet and how he didn’t want to ruin the surprise for you before you saw them on stage. He knew he was lying, though. He didn’t even keep those jumpsuits in his personal closet space until after he at least wore them once. He himself wasn’t positive as to why he made the rule, but you went along with it to make him happy.

That was, until today.

He and the boys were all hanging with each other and their families, celebrating the return to their home state and the start of a new tour. You had opted to stay behind since you got to see him essentially any time that you pleased. The hustle and bustle of the night prior, the show in Kalamazoo, had exhausted you, so you planned to use the time to recharge.

You were laying down in nothing but one of your favorite robes, one made of lavender silk. You chose comfort while reading a book Josh had bought you, rejecting the idea of confining clothing. No matter how hard you tried to focus on the book in your hand, though, you were incredibly distracted by Josh’s closet. It seemed to have a type of magnetic energy to it. It was almost calling to you, persuading you to open it and quiet your curiosities. You couldn’t stay away if you tried. You didn’t fight the urge too hard, though.

Now, you stood in front of the open doors, running your fingers across the colorful array of satin and crushed velvet. The colors were all more vibrant than they appeared on stage, and you admired how each one had its own unique and intricate design. You were especially drawn to the one from the night before. The jumpsuits from the previous tour were beautiful, but you had seen many videos and pictures of them from the fans and photographers. This one, though, was still fresh.

The vibrant gold embodied the exact aura of Josh, and you thought about how perfect it was for the opening night. The appliques were arranged throughout the fabric in just all the right spots. You imagined Josh in front of you wearing the suit, you running your hands down his chest and around to grab his hips. The suit itself was beautiful, but the duster is really what caught your eye.

You were slightly disappointed that Josh hadn’t worn it longer during the show. He looked so elegant, like a king of sorts. You hadn’t noticed the details in the fabric until now, and you were growing more and more curious about how it felt to wear it.

You checked the time to see that Josh was set to be home in around 30 minutes. You had plenty of time.

You made quick work to slip out of the robe you were wearing, but you paid extra time retrieving the sheer fabric from it’s hanger. You were afraid to mess up the delicate article, and you wanted to be sure you could cover your tracks when you were done.

The cool air on your now completely exposed skin sent chills down your spine. You could feel your nipples harden and goosebumps spread across your body. You clutched the gold fabric to your face, inhaling the smell of Josh and detergent, and wished that you could live in this feeling forever. You turned to look at yourself at the full body mirror behind you and slowly walked to it. You held the piece up to your naked frame and smiled at how the gold looked even better against your complexion. The designer had outdone themself with this, and you couldn’t wait to see what else Josh had picked for the tour.

You carefully slipped your arms into the sleeves one at a time. The sheer fabric did little to protect you from the chill in the air. The butterflies in your stomach grew as you were not only breaking Josh’s rule, but completely going against them. You blushed as your mind wandered to what he would say, or do, if he caught you.

You met the reflection of your frame in the mirror. You did a little spin for yourself, feeling as if you were a child playing dress up. You twisted and turned to admire your appearance with a smug grin. This duster looked like it belonged to royalty, and it even made you feel as if you were royalty while wearing it.

“Looks like you’ve had your nose where it shouldn’t have been.”

Your heart dropped with the grin that you were wearing. You snapped your head to see Josh leaning in the doorway of your bedroom. You hadn’t heard the front door open or close. You were supposed to still have a little bit of time before he came home. Confusion mixed with embarrassment in your expression. Josh, however, kept his normal smirk as he let his eyes gloss over your body.

“What? Are you not happy to see me?” Josh’s unusually low tone caused even more goosebumps to adorn your skin.

“Josh, I was just-”

He shook his head and began to walk to you. “No, I know what you were doing, baby. Exactly what I told you not to do.” The confidence that he exuded became even more intoxicating as he finally reached you. He caressed your jaw with his right hand and gently positioned his left hand on your hip. “You don’t like to listen, do you?”

You felt your cheeks pinken again and let your head drop from embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

He placed a quick kiss on your forehead and moved his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck. His fingers laced in your hair as he set his chin on top of your head. He pulled you closer to him, and you wrapped your arms around his waist. “It’s okay, my love. I can’t be upset with you when I knew it would happen sooner or later.”

You look back up at him. He didn’t seem mad or annoyed in the least bit. The smile on his face implied endearment with a hint of pride. “Besides,” he started again. “You look absolutely incredible.” His left hand dropped to give you a pat on your ass, and he gave you a proper kiss on the lips. You untangled yourself from him with a quiet giggle. He turned to walk to his open closet.

“So you promise you’re not mad at me?” You asked sheepishly.

He laughed. “Of course I’m not mad, baby,” he assured as he closed the closet doors. “But I am gonna need you to keep that on while I fuck you to remind you who’s in charge.”

Your eyes widen at Josh’s statement. You felt your knees buck, and you would’ve fell if you didn’t catch yourself. It seemed as if he had completely flipped a switch within you. You could feel your core aching with desire. He turned back to face you. His eyes were dark and glazed over. He nodded to the bed, giving you a silent demand.

You obliged immediately, and took your place at the edge of the bed on your knees with your hands on your thighs, facing Josh as he walked back to you. He snaked his hand to the back of your neck again. You looked up at him through your lashes and smiled at how gorgeous he looked. He lightly tugged your hair with an endearing smile in response. You enjoyed the sweet moments such as these, but you couldn’t help but anticipate what was to come.

“Are you gonna be good for me?” Josh rasped.

You nodded, unable to form a coherent response.

“Words, baby. Use your words,” he tsked.

It was easier said than done. The excitement bubbling within you made your skin feel electrified. You wanted nothing but for him to stop with the teasing, but you decided to play along. “Yes, Josh. I’ll be good.”

Josh hummed, pleased with your response. He released his grip on your hair, but brought his hand to the top of your head to run his fingers across your skull. The way he was touching you and looking at you, as if you were an idol that deserved to be worshipped, made your mouth water. You reached out to undo his belt, but he quickly smacked your hands away, a dramatic contrast in how he had been treating you. You frowned at him and whined.

“None of that, Y/N. You’ve had your fun.” He leaned down to be at eye level with you. His hands returned to both of your cheeks, cupping them gently. His eyes softened with his demeanor. “I want to get straight to it, if you’ll let me.”

You give your consent with an enthusiastic nod before you remember his need for a verbal response. “Josh please-”

“Turn around. Ass up, mama,” he interupted. His hot and cold attitude kept you on your toes, not knowing what to expect. You rarely got to see Josh’s dominant side, so you were pleased that you had gotten yourself in this predicament. You quickly turn around and comply with his commands. You were careful to not mess up the sheer duster still wrapped around you as you moved.

You could hear the shuffling of Josh undressing behind you, and it pained you to not do it yourself. Taking your time with undressing him had always been one of your favorite parts. You loved to kiss every inch of his body, loving every bit of it as it was unveiled to you. You could tell he didn’t feel like waiting since he took the task upon himself.

You felt him hike the duster up to your hips, your ass now completely exposed to him. He inched closer to you, and you could feel the warm breath against your core. You held your breath in anticipation. You longed to feel his mouth devour you, but he didn’t give you that satisfaction. You heard a low chuckle, which caused more air to prick your heat.

You whined at him again, tears forming from frustration. “Josh, please.”

He groaned and placed a deep kiss on your heat, but pulled away almost immediately. You chased the contact by pressing your hips towards him. He strengthens his grip on your waist and holds you in place. “You sound so pretty begging for me like that, baby.” He goes lower and licks a single stripe down your folds. “But I promise I will make you feel good. No need to worry.”

The bed dipped behind you as Josh potisioned himself on the mattress. He gathered the duster to one side and held the fabric in place with one hand. You grinned at the thought of him getting his mic fixed during the performance, holding the fabric in the same place on his body. If only you knew then what was to come less than 24 hours later.

He stroked himself a few times and lined himself up with your entrance. He paused. “You okay, mama?”

You smiled at his thoughtfulness. “More than okay,” you answer.

He bent down to place a quick kiss to your spine before lining himself up again. He slowly pressed into you with a sigh. You clutched the comforter under you as you felt him fill you up completely, the sweet burning sensation that you had begun to crave. He paused so you could get used to the feeling again, his left hand rubbing and squeezing any bit of you that he could to soothe you.

You blindly reached behind you to grab his wandering hand and squeeze it, giving Josh the green light to start moving.

His rhythm was painstakingly slow to begin with, but he kept his word to make it feel good. You could feel every curve and vein as he thrusted slow and deep. The sounds escaping you both, plus the smacks of your skin coming in contact was anything but pure. You knew that the grip he had on your hips would cause bruises, but you didn’t mind at all. In fact, picturing yourself with marks from times like these with him only made you more aroused. You decided to rut your hips against his to allow a deeper angle.

Josh let out another groan and quickened his pace. “You’re gonna ruin me if you keep on with that, Y/N,” he warned. “You feel so good.” He let go of the fabric in his hand and opted to grab your hair instead. You moaned as you started to feel your climax building, sooner than you had hoped.

“You’re close, I can feel it,” he whispered behind you. “You’re already gripping so hard, baby.”

Your eyes roll back. “Fuck, Josh. I’m gonna-”

Just before you could finish your sentence and your climb to the peak, Josh pulled out completely. You shudder at the complete loss of contact. You snap your head furiously to look at him while he held a cocky grin. “What the hell, Josh?”

He gave a hard smack on your ass, making you moan through your frustration. “Don’t get mad at me baby. You’re the one breaking rules here.”

His comment made you blush and remember exactly why you were in this predicament in the first place. You had almost forgotten that you were wearing a piece of his outfit. He lowered himself to your ear and moved your hair to the other side of your face. His breath tickled your neck as he whispered, “Now ride me like the good little slut you are.”

The dirty words leaving the mouth of the angel that was your boyfriend made you gasp, but you enjoyed this side of him. You swiftly climbed on top of him once he laid on his back, still careful to not ruin the gold duster. You wasted very little time on theatrics, you simply wanted to continue chasing that high that Josh had denied you.

You both sighed as you sank down onto him. He placed his hands under his head in a carefree manner, but you knew it was paining him not to touch you. You put your hands against his chest to steady yourself as you began to move. The rocking motion of your hips allowed your clit to deliciously rub against Josh, bringing your climax back faster than ever.

“Good girl,” he purred. “Good fucking girl.” The raspiness of his voice as he praised you sounded like sweet and heavenly hymns.

He finally lifted his hands from behind his head and reached under the duster to play with your breasts. He lightly pinched your nipples between his fingers, making you let out a small yelp as you continued your movements against him. He seemed pleased with himself for causing such a reaction from you.

“You like that, sweet girl? You like using my cock to fuck yourself?”

You bit your lip and nodded. He grabbed your hips again and decided to take charge once more. He lifted you slightly and began thrusting himself into you at an unrelenting pace. You tip your head back and moan obscenly loud at the new sensation, but just as he had done before, he stopped.

Your head snapped down at him again as you tried, and failed, to moved your hips against his. His grip had you locked in place. “Look at me while I’m fucking you, or I’m not gonna let you finish at all.” You nod in understanding, and he slowly began to thrust into you again. You attempted to keep the eye contact, but with the increasing speed and sight of Josh panting under you, you felt them slowly close again.

Just as promised, Josh slowed his thrusts again. “I’m serious, mama.��

You take a deep breath and meet his gaze again. He gives you a loving smile before continuing his thrusts, faster than before.

You could feel your jaw go slack and hands claw at his chest as he continued to pound you. He moved his hands from your hips back to your ass, but kept the same grasp as he had before. This new hold allowed him to incorporate the rocking motion you had used while he thrusted. Your eyes fluttered again, but you didn’t dare close them again.

“Josh, I’m close,” you stuttered out.

He groaned. “I know baby. Me too.” He let go with one hand and started to rub your clit as he thrusted. “Let go for me.”

Before he could finish his statement, you tipped over the edge. You felt fireworks and flowers bloom. You felt waves crash and winds blow. Your climax enveloped your senses and had you reciting every praise and curse known to man, which caused Josh do do the same. You felt him finishing inside of you within a few final thrusts. You both were a panting mess as you came down from it all. You rolled off of him with a slight hiss at the sensation.

Josh immediately wrapped you in his arms. “You okay baby?” He asked. You gave him a nod, still unable to catch your breath. “You did so good for me.” He kissed your head and began to stroke your hair.

You giggled and snuggled against him the best you could. “I should break rules more often. I liked playing dress-up.”

Josh gave his signature boisterous laugh. “You do look really good in my clothes.” He gave you another kiss. “I’m gonna go start us a bath.” He unwrapped himself from your embrace and began walking to your bathroom. You couldn’t help but watch his figure as you also got up from your place on the bed.

“Oh and put that thing in the washer!” Josh called over his shoulder. You could hear the smile hidden in his voice as he finished with, “I think I’m gonna wear it again tomorrow.”

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ritacrow-blog · 3 years

Text

-Maribat

-Daminette

-Mari is MDC but also has a secret talent :singing and songwriting

-class! Salt, lila! Salt, coward but not evil adrien/chat noir.

-Mari vents out her sadness and anger through songwriting and singing in a secret garden she discovered somewhere in Paris.

-always has her song book with her. One day during one of Jagged's fittings. Her song book falls out of her bag without noticing. Forgetting it in Jagged's Hotel room.

-Jagged finds it and takes a look at it. Finds out that it's marinette's. Also notices how sad and angry the lyrics look. Confronts marinette about it when she comes back looking panicked and looking for her song book.

-Jagged finds out about Lila and ends up being akumatized.

-cue: Lila! Hunt. And truth being revealed to the class.

-the class tries to apologise. Mari forgives some, not all. And doesn't remain close to them anymore since they betrayed her trust. So no more free stuff/food/babysitting/etc... Just being civil with each other and avoiding persistent ones like Alya and adrien.

-Jagged comes to the bakery to check on Marinette and overhears her humming then singing. Frozen in place entranced my her lyrics, sound and emotion in the song. He listens and knocks when he hears watery sniffles.

-they talk.

-he offers an idea. To record her songs or perform for an audience.

-Mari not being ready turns down the idea of performing for an audience. But says OK to the idea of recording it.

-while in the recording studio with only penny and Jagged. After recording her songs. The asshole Bob barges in telling Jagged that he needs to create more songs that people could relate to. Tries to belittle Jagged and just being an asshole.

-Mari offers Jagged an idea. Since she felt like she had to repay Jagged somehow. To use her lyrics. Jagged refused at first. Until mari offered the idea of him acknowledging MDC being the writer while he was the singer. Since MDC is a secret and is already associated with Jagged. Jagged agreed while also attempting to write his own with mari and penny's support.

-while Mari takes a leap and desides to sell records of her singing on her website. Together with her fashion designs. 50% of the money going to animal shelters and food, shelter and education for the homeless in Paris.

-MDC gets even more famous.

-Jason and Tim being HUGE fans of both Jagged Stone and MDC. Buy a copy of each of her records. And become even bigger fans.

-Jagged offers to bring marinette on tour with him for the summer in Gotham. Mari agrees thinking it would be good for her mental health if she left Paris for a bit.

-Jason and Tim automatically book tickets to the concert. Bruce insists that they all go and think of it as sibling bonding. So Dick and Damian tag along. Jason and Tim try to convert Dick into a Fanboy. Dick becomes a fan after listening to MDCs recordings. Damian refusing to become part of their fanclub.

-Jagged who mari eventually found out was originally from Gotham was shocked. So they didn't stay in a hotel. Instead they stayed at Stone Mansion. (I like the ring of it). Which just so happens to have a beautiful Garden that just calls out to her inner Ladybug. Jagged tells her to wait till the sun's down. And refused to say more. Turns out the garden becomes lit with fireflies.

-Stone Manor and Wayne Manor are neighbours here. Jason and Tim just didn't know that the owner of the place was THE Jagged Stone. They just assumed it was called Stone Manor because it looked like a "Stone" Manor. Bruce, Alfred and Dick keeping in secret because they find it amusing. Damian doesn't know and doesn't care.

- one evening. Mari is in the garden gazebo. Feeling inspired sings one of her unreleased songs to herself.

-Damian avoiding the noise decides to go to the garden in the backyard with Titus. Titus hearing soft singing perks up and runs to the hedge dividing the 2 properties. Damian ends up listening and decides to stay and listen while trying to get Titus to keep quiet.

-entranced by the music he stays. Admitting to himself that her voice sounded like one of an angel. (if he's ever heard one) he becomes curious and climbs a tree close to the hedge to take a peek at the singer. But by the time he gets to a high branch. She's already walking away. To dark to see clearly.

-he sneaks back to the hedge the next night. Not sure if his angel would come back to sing again. But this time hides on the tree branch behind the leaves. Turns out she was already there but drawing under the faint gazebo light.

- hair soft and dark as the nightsky. Gentle facial features. Really wants to see her eyes. Beautiful.

-then she starts humming. He stays still and tries not to make a sound. Her humming builds up and eventually she starts singing to herself. Unaware that someone was listening to her up in the neighbors tree.

-her inner Ladybug leading her to dancing to her own songs with the fireflies in the garden. All while unaware that she's being watched.

-Damian entranced. Heart thumping really loud. her voice, her swaying and the general atmosphere. He stays till she gets called back in. He really wants to see her eyes.

-comes the following night as well. Trying to build up the courage to call out and is confused as to why he's feeling that way. Gives up for the night.

-Alfred waiting by the door. Amused. (nothing gets passed Alfred. Previous Peacock holder. Miraculous of emotion...i think... Let's just say it is) offers his own advice. Damian asking him to keep it secret. Alfred agreeing thinking that this would be good for Damian.

-Damian comes again the following night but this time bites the bullet. This time he isn't up in the tree. He's sitting on the grass by the hedge. Singing along softly to the song (this time a song they both know and is apparently popular and surprise surpriseee damian knows how to sing he just doesn't advertise it). Mari's voice stops for a bit and decides to play along with his idea. End up singing a popular duet for the next song. Until she gets called back.

M: will you be here tomorrow again? I had fun singing along.

D: I can

J: *calling out for mari to get back in soon*

M: I have to get going now. But I hope to see you tomorrow... I mean HEAR! I meant hear... Since I can't see you and all. Hahaha!

D: *secret smile* I'll be here, angel.

M: Angel?

D: *flustered and shouting "what the hell" in his head* you... You sound like one. *STUTTERING??!!! *

M:*flustered * thank you, Oiseau.

D: *beet red* Oiseau?

M: figured I'd give you a nickname too. Your voice reminds me of one. I like it. *WHAT THE HELL, BRAIN!!!???* A-a-anyways I've got to get going. My uncle's calling me in. See you tomorrow night!

D: you mean "hear you tomorrow" right? *amused and flushed*

M: R-right! I meant hear. *flushed* *chuckle* Good night, Oiseau

D: Good night, Angel.

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

Feel free to use this idea~~~

Im honestly loving this! 😖💕💕💕

So please tag me if your using it! I want to read it

This is one idea that got me squeeling SO BAD! But since I'm not gifted in the art of writing... I'll leave it to those who are.

Again... FEEL FREE TO USE THIS IDEA

just don't forget to tagg me and those who commented saying that they want to read it too.

#maribat #mlb x dc #daminette #damian x marinette

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sugar-petals · 3 years

Text

♡ måneskin scenario: getting to know ethan

↳ NOTE. by popular demand and because i’m entirely enthralled by the phenomenon that is ethan torchio myself, here we go givin’ the gorgeous drummer some love.

word count. 5.5k

TAGS. no warnings all fluff, fem!oc, slice of life, photographer!reader, first date-ish, shy flirting, ot4 is part of the plot, ethan being sexy in heels

Jacob had enough of that twilight bullshit and joined a glam rock band. At least that’s what you thought seeing Ethan around for the first time. Setting up the kit, carrying his whiny band members around, fixing his ruffle shirt, chugging some water: Big gig tonight, extra long setlist. Five minutes later, complaining about his brocade shoes being hard to kick the bass drum with. Even later, silently nodding along to an impassioned Damiano speech crafted to boost the morale, and posing for your camera in his silver jumpsuit. Friendly to approach all the way, but without initiating stable eye contact even once.

One thing’s for sure. As your favorite professor said back at university: Someone may be photogenic and unearthly as hell in terms of looks, and even be intimidating — but also so damn shy, you won’t see their eyes a single time. „Gotta work with it and not against. Then it gets interesting“. In essence, the takeaway from that course. Which does come in handy now. Ethan seems like the kind of guy you really have to get into for a more intimate-feeling picture.

Sure, many people in front of your camera have all kinds of introverted personalities anyway, wearing sunglasses in particular. So much about eye contact in the first place. And the aesthetic is priority, not studying character. Although you really are a fan of that, it’s a huge part of photography if anything. Alas, you’re here to „capture nothing more but the spirit of italo-rock, the attitude, the hedonism!“ (the exact words of your boss) for a music magazine after all. Really, nothing more? You paid attention to how he worded it. Fair enough. Rock spirit, that’s all, the exciting parts.

Ethan surely has it. Drumming on everything he can find during rehearsal breaks („music is everywhere“) with his sticks, even Thomas’ amplifier. He’s actually dorkier than you thought, less composed when he’s in his element. First impressions do deceive. The hair’s hard to miss, too. It’s the central motif that attracts you. You may or may not have taken over 50 shots of it just because. Ethan is a bad bitch and he better know. You climb around the venue to get any salient angle of Måneskin you can think of. Even from all the way back, last row. You don’t want to annoy them being all up in their face constantly. You’re hired to get all the good shots, they’ve been a band for seven years already, professionals in the making. Doesn’t mean you have to stand below the edge of the stage and never change position.

Even from back there, the silver reflects beautifully at the back of the stage. The fashion’s all designer and it shows, but Ethan couldn’t look bad in any of the shots even if he tried or wore the plainest black suit (hell, that would be just as beautiful in fact). Just how long is that hair anyway. All the way down to the solar plexus, must be 24 inches or more. 25, even. Many rockers would wear it that way, but Ethan seems particularly interesting with how he touches it, how he behaves with it. There we go again with the character study, you can’t help wondering.

But really. It’s any photographer’s dream when someone moves their hair around so damn naturally. Gives a great variety to how it frames and shades the face. You like to play with light all the time. And hey, why ask for eye contact when he does even better posing in other ways. The body, too, Ethan’s posture is great. Victoria and Thomas often bend to really get into their power chords, Damiano frequently hunches forward for a belt. But Ethan’s throned at his kit like some royals taught him to be a good boy. Back straighter than a pole, how the hell.

No glance in your direction still, even if you return from your last row spot to move around on stage with the camera. Which gives the band a motivation boost and chances to try out gestures up close, too, so even better. Hey, maybe it doesn’t annoy them. You can actually get used to it, this way of photographing them is all dynamic. Nearing the end of the first rehearsal, you’re all busy maneuvering between Thomas and Damiano to get a nice semi-profile from Ethan’s left side. Gotta work with it not against, you chant to yourself as a mantra, and it seems easier to stick to than you thought.

How glossy all that hair is commands all the attention of your shutter release in and of itself. That he takes good care of it and has been growing it since forever shows a dedicated guy. It’s actually quite wavy. The band arrived in the pouring rain and Ethan’s curly strands at the crown and nape of the head were definitely showing — super cute. An army of stylists took on the resulting humidity frizz. They whipped out the straightening iron and protective spray, and even now before the big performance, Ethan brushes his hair out in front of you, and sweeps it around with his fingers anyway. You take pictures of the bits you find most candid, and decide to rather perfect single shots instead of making several in a row. The more you photograph him, the more you want to discover his essence in one picture. His sheer presence almost begs for it, it’s ridiculous.

Victoria on the other hand has no problems with rapid-fire releases and comes close to your lens to pull funny faces. She’s got some of the coolest poses you’ve ever seen with her bass, and hops around the stage like a bunny to the beat. Thomas is a virtuoso and pro who keeps on doing what he does when you make him pose, and Damiano can flirt with any camera ever. He even lowers his red leather jacket off his collar bones for you to have a great shot. He’s promising and most definitely a born divo, your boss will be happy with those pictures most definitely.

Then again. Behind that supposed hedonism is so much hard work and thought. Damiano even gives you ideas for angles during the second rehearsal. „Hm, maybe stand on the amplifier?“ Eagle perspective, not a bad idea at all. After trying out said suggestions with the help of triggered stage security making sure you don’t fall off the construction („eh, Damiano always suggests the most reckless things to staff, don’t mind him“), you find yourself concentrating on what goes on at the back of the stage all over again.

Ethan is busy practicing a new solo which has you curious about whether it’s for an upcoming album. Though again — the shoes cause trouble. Ethan complains again, the music stops. That could very well be the reason why he seems so preoccupied today, or is it? The manager tells the stylist, and the stylist hurries, voilà, Ethan has a new pair of shoes brought in. Ones with a thicker sole, bit of a chunky heel, and laced up rather than being slippers, a drummer’s worst nightmare as you have learned today.

You wait until he changed. Then snap some more pictures how he continues practicing calmly, and the sound did improve since he can kick the bass drum better now. Now you position yourself across the stage all over, in the empty audience ranks. Ethan is the most radiant and confident when you just take a step back. But well, he still sweeps his hair around a whole lot and looks even more tense-looking than Damiano who’s doing vocal warmups and jumping jacks, „Come on guys, come on, we’re starting in 30 minutes!“.

You can tell he does it more often when he’s nervous. And that means he does it very often. People would probably assume it’s vanity, or the fact that the hair gets in the way. You can see that for him it’s a place of distraction, maybe safety. A gesture like an anchor. He’s used to it being long just like his eye shadow being dark and smoky all day. He knows the drums by heart, if it falls in his face no need to shake it away. And besides. The strands reach below his shoulder blades, it stays down his back if he doesn’t move around too much. He could easily tie it up as well. All those things go through your mind without you even knowing why.

To switch things up a little, you photograph Thomas fooling around with Victoria at the snack bar, stuffing fries up their noses, and already see the lighting technicians do their final check. Some of them you know briefly, you made shots at this venue before, last year for a Shakespeare theatre play. You did some freelance work in the scene, but now you’re put to the test for more involved jobs. Hard to complain though, Måneskin are amazing in front of the camera. If Damiano is not the ideal Hamlet, you don’t know anymore.

Something new happens all the time, the expressions are priceless. Ethan’s in particular, when he does his wide-eyed surprise faces learning that there’s actually healthy food at the snack bar. „Vitamins, how nice.“ — Thomas, pokerfaced, reacts with eating a mayonnaise-dripping sandwich. Ethan, unfazed. Headed straight to the fruits. You’ve never seen a tall silver glitter tower like him walking around biting a bright red apple. Well, you can take Jacob out of twilight, but not the twilight out of Jacob. Snap, another picture. Clash of words, that’s a nice theme.

The concert of this evening seems particularly energetic and leaves your camera roll with some brilliant, tweet-worthy material. Damiano covered in confetti, eyeliner running. Victoria on the shoulders of Ethan while he’s playing her bass. Thomas, stagediving. Fans waving banners and chanting along to Seven Nation Army. Your ears are ringing when the light technicians close down the stage two hours later. Thomas really played his soul out with the solos, and your feet seem to vibrate. That’s your body thinking Victoria’s bass is still playing, but the magazine is very happy with how the pictures turned out after you send the whole batch to them as soon as you can.

Little to no retouching, zooming, or cropping necessary. Ethan is just perfect as he is, you feel like you captured him well. After swiping through the gallery on your tablet, you think Victoria has some great ant’s eye perspective shots as well. Those go right on your own blog, she’s just amazing. The magazine has an enthusiastic article typed out already. Damiano’s mid-air split on beat for the final song makes the cover story on Monday, and Måneskin’s manager comes back to you a week later. „What would you think about doing some behind the scenes stuff for us? We’re planning a music video!“

And that’s how you end up in a Sicilian restaurant with Måneskin and crew a week later, stuffed with Calzone and mind filled with Damiano’s inspiring words (and the occasional catchy freestyle rap). The MV is as good as finished. Thomas had shown you around the mansion they were shooting at, and you could convince a taciturn Ethan to walk between the marble statues and boxwood trees in the garden. With his black cape on, a rhinestone choker, and the low-cut lacey blouse that the MV director was obsessed with as well, asking you to focus on it. Your best shot even ends up in the thumbnail of the Youtube video without you even expecting it would.

All the garden pictures turned out mindblowing. If not iconic, the best project you had so far. Gets to show you the best things are often improvised. Ethan, stoic as always, sat at the base of armor-clad Emperor Augustus twisting into the blue sky in a large gesture. The marble was a perfect contrast. Ethan ate a ripe pear from a tree, even that was aesthetically pleasing, then leaned against a hunting Apollo, and you also framed him from the back next to Aphrodite and Cesar. He put on his sunglasses underneath Achilles, and knelt at the feet of a Pietà replica. Marvelous panorama shots, with him the shining center. Well, we know since Queen that the drummer is the unrealistically pretty one.

The whole picture series is blowing up on your blog for the whole afternoon. „Count Dracula on a stroll in Versailles — eugh, begone sunlight!“ is what a comment neatly sums it up as. People seem to especially like the shot where Ethan playfully put his cape over Pallas Athena’s spear with a blurry Thomas having a laughing fit in the background. Well, even Count Drac gets photobombed sometimes. Your phone buzzes with notifications every other minute, you do notice it against your thigh. But the insalata of the restaurant is good and the night is young. Victoria and the manager tell old stories of Thomas snapping a guitar string while he was trying to serenade a highschool crush. Ethan scolds them for making fun of it.

Damiano gets drunk and dances on the table, the MV director discusses new ideas, some walk-in fans take pictures. The temperature is still unbearable. You order a dessert to share with Victoria and Ethan. A large tiramisu that the waiter cuts in three pieces, and it’s truly delectable. The chocolate, so crunchy, melty. The cream, fluffy and cool, making for a funny white beard that makes Ethan look like an arctic scientist returning from an expedition.

Of course, you take pictures, all the food is documented. As are late night restaurant shots with Damiano’s heels peaking into the frame when you photograph the band’s friendship bracelets, hand-made by Victoria on a tour bus last year. Damiano’s back down on the table soon, singing, while Ethan creates a beat with two forks. Thomas also agrees to take your camera for a while so you’d be in the frame for a change, too.

You pose for a group picture, or rather a group hug, and being in the middle …Ethan’s arm wraps around your shoulder loosely, hair dangling into his face, but also brushing yours. He focuses on the camera, facing away from you. The schooled eye could catch you breaking a sweat in the resulting photo. Ironically, the tiramisu doesn’t cool you down the way you thought. Thomas is too busy trying to figure out your camera dials and yelling „hey eyebrow king, smile!“ at Ethan.

A round of even more gelato goes down in spoons and spoons. The band members eat like they ran a marathon. Ethan clinches a third round because he can, unhealthy be damned, he needs some sugar and refreshment. And it’s true the MV shooting was strenuous in the heat, and had lots of intense performing parts. Even an invisible rope suspension were Thomas would descend from a ceiling during the chorus with little cherub wings attached to his back because why not. If the manager agreed to recreate this on tour some day, the pictures would be amazing.

You can’t help but think what kind of special effect would suit Ethan the most, and you come to the conclusion that a bridge lift would be the coolest thing ever. A rising part of the stage letting him emerge like an elevator from the underground. Maybe using smoke machines, too. The idea twirls around in your mind so intensely, Damiano asks if you’re wasted. You’re always getting carried away with all kinds of fantasies like that for over a week now. A dreamy photographer? Not unusual, but it’s seriously distracting you from the present moment.

The crew slowly heads home, and the band decides (translation: Victoria’s mood is) to head to the movies. Just when the waiter arrives with the bill, Damiano spills panna cotta all over Ethan by accident. So bad he’s all sticky from the shoulders down, making Ethan opt for the hotel instead. Besides, he’s been drumming his soul out, sleep is so needed now. Since the group is already gone and there’s still a forgotten cymbal left to carry back to the equipment bus by the hotel, you help Ethan maneuver it around. The heat is making either of you sweat, even with the full dark of the night coming up.

The gaffer lady you’re sharing a hotel room with is already fast asleep. Damn it. You want to cut a video and make screenshots with the laptop being decently bright. And with some volume if possible, you don’t find headphones in the darkness of the room. Ethan clears the desk in his own room for you after removing his make-up. He looks so young and beautiful and tired.

You type and drag and double click yourself through the video and do some last blog updates to deal with all the notifications. Ethan lends you some headphones, but you only keep them on one ear. The humming is too nice to ignore. Nor do you know what to even expect. The bathroom door is open, Ethan is topless washing the lace blouse by hand. Only wearing bellbottom pants and his lace choker — nothing else. He’s fully immersed in his task. He even adds some other shirts and silk scarves into the soap water along the way while he’s at it.

You’ve never seen someone do their own laundry so systematically. Ethan looks like Prince Caspian at the sink, wielding the almond soap bar like his weapon of choice against the enemies of Narnia (the devious panna cotta that’s still sticking to everything). He might be all mysterious, but he’s well able to curse all kinds of things. You tease Ethan for dropping his gentlemanly behavior for a stain of dessert. Ethan insists you sound like Thomas trying to test him with his slick comebacks, which makes you laugh. The blog has calmed down a little and your eyes hurt from editing, so you call it a day and send one last e-mail.

Ethan is drowning in bubbles at this point. The whole room smells like fabric softener. He thanks you for helping him carry around the equipment earlier. In return, you say grazie for him being your perfect muse in the garden today. Philosopher he is, Ethan remarks how Måneskin is usually the one searching for muses, now he ended up one himself — „Maybe not a bad thing, eh. Become the thing you want or something.“ That’s way too deep for a summer night in Sicily, and both of you need a huge portion of sleep. Tomorrow, lots of schedule. You do find yourself wanting to help lick that dessert off his chest. No way you’d tell him.

Ethan waddles off to shower after a crooked, reserved smile for a good night departure. When you close the door to your room and start brushing your teeth, the other members’ voices emerge in the hotel corridor — they’ve returned from the movies. Damiano is even more wasted than before and audibly sings. „You’ve looked at the photographer lady in a certain way earlier, huh. I saw, I saw!“ Victoria does a loud ‚shh‘ noise, and the stoic reply is a simple „Sleep, Damiano, you’ve had too much.“ Thomas giggles, and four doors click shut. Damiano’s singing is now muffled for two minutes until it’s silent. How the fuck can you even sleep after hearing that.

You assumed that Ethan would treat you differently the next morning, in whatever shape or form. But he doesn’t. The greeting is short as it would always be, and he informs you that he did manage to wash out the sugary clay from his clothes as he puts it. Damiano says nothing, adjusts his rings. Thomas randomly pulls zippers at his packed-up equipment. Victoria headed to the car already. Downtown to a studio it goes. The group gets styled to perfection, twenty minutes later they make a reaction video to the newly released MV teaser. Ethan talks about enjoying the sculptures in the garden.

Three hours down the line, you shoot some promotional pictures of them at a pool. Thomas has the time of his life perfecting his diving board skills, and Damiano creates the musical background, singing and prancing. The aerials would make literal perfect editorial-in-VOGUE material. In the meantime, Victoria dozes in the sun. Ethan dives. Sometimes just sitting at the bottom of the pool, othertimes swimming back and forth. The art director suggests you to go into the water, too. He’s right, the perspective works out well this way.

You’re basically standing in there with your flowy pantalon pants and camisole, using a waterproof camera. Your bikini is back at the hotel. It doesn’t matter, everything will dry quickly, the others went in the pool with clothes as well. And you’re all too wrapped up in your passion in the first place. You marvel at how fun the whole scenery looks through your lens. Their outfits are cropped and luminous, today’s color is bright red. You order the lighting assistant back and forth, get some more great Thomas frames where he tosses around a volleyball that the manager brought along. Less rock than usual, but it works. Måneskin at a pool in Sicily.

Damiano splashes water around like crazy. Victoria joins the fun as well, splashing right back. It’s infernal. Well, those are going to be dynamic pictures, you think, and the cameraman never dies, so. Ethan resurfaces every other minute, wiping the chlorine from his eyes. He slicks his hair back with both hands, looking down his body learning how his shirt has become completely transparent. He covers his chest with his hair, quickly, then submerges again. It’s strange. Being topless is usually no big deal in Måneskin.

Almost 12 o’clock. Thomas and Damiano wander off to work on some lyrics, probably the title that the drum solo is part of. All top secret. Victoria returns to her sun lounger, checking her phone. The crew heads for lunch, but you stay in the water, gladly you put sunscreen on earlier. You ask Ethan to try some seated or floating poses at the bottom of the pool that you saw him practice earlier. „No worries, keep your eyes closed.“

What unfolds before you is the most beautiful thing. Ethan’s shirt fans out like a red jellyfish underwater, playing around his body. His figure is just enviable. He gets the hang of it and knows quite how to move. Or rather, to remain stable when the pose is perfect. Hands above his head, horizontal, or seated, only one foot lightly sweeping over the pool floor, or on one knee, as if he proposed.

Raising his arms helps him sink down and settle, as if he immersed himself in deep meditation. Although the purpose of meditating is to be present, isn’t it. And that’s what he feels like. Ethan would normally switch on autopilot for most of his public interactions, now he’s alive and fully in the concentrated movements of the photoshoot. So much about improvising all over again. The hair creates the most incredible shapes like a black, wide brushstroke, clearly outlined. Thank god you have the waterproof camera. These are moments you’ll never forget.

Your blog notifications keep on bleeping throughout the afternoon. The promotional pictures are a hit. Måneskin’s manager is basically waving five new contracts in front of your face at dinner, but you’re kind of spaced out again. The cozy, rose-ranked atmosphere of the street café you went to is inspiring, and the members dressed up in the most fancy suitwear. Men in Black? Måneskin in Black. It’s almost as if fate read your mind. Ethan is looking at you very intently from across the table when the minestrone is served.

Pasta shells, parsley, vegetables and basil leaves. The scent surrounds the entire table. Damiano, in serious mode tonight, is too busy finding new rhymes and an alternative chorus with Thomas who wildly brainstorms. Victoria drinks, loudly chats with the gaffer lady that you share a room with, and they use a leaf of a palm tree pot plant to tickle Damiano. Thomas plays the acoustic guitar. Ethan and you end up smiling briefly at another. „Bon apetit,“ you say. It’s almost 34° celsius. That’s going to be an entire pile of cheesecake gelato tonight.

Five signed contracts later and halfway through a hefty caprese cake, the title song is finished. An ode to Marlena, fierce like the Mediterranean sea. The piece certainly sounds exactly like this place. Strangers listen to Damiano performing bits and pieces, but you decide to disperse when too many cellphones come out. Damiano wants to go to a bar, Thomas and Victoria carry home their guitars, or to the hotel to be exact, and bags of newly shopped vintage clothes. You ask Ethan if there are any cinemas around the area. „We missed out last time, remember.“

The Palazzo Theater is a small and hidden insider tip far from the main street with its busy beach tourists. Under bulbous metal balconies and peach-colored facades, a small entrance with lanterns on each side guides you inward. Ethan almost hits his head, it’s so low. He’s wearing glossy red bottoms under his suit pants, you’re out and about with a 6’2 giant after all — a statue by himself. A small man with a pipe sells you cheap tickets for a Mads Mikkelsen movie and lemonade, Ethan picks up an XXXL caramel popcorn bucket. You think he’s flexing, but you get a sudden heureka by looking at it twice.

Unlike the S, M, and L bags, it’s thick cardboard and drum-shaped. Oh my god, obviously. Which fine percussionist could ever resist such temptation striped in red and white, the sound deep and dull? It makes you smile how Ethan pursues his instrument even when he seemingly doesn’t, it really has to be a hobby at heart. That’s how a job becomes a profession, and a profession a vocation, your uni professor’s other favorite words all over again. The latter’s words have gotten you far so you again trust the insight that came to you through that quote.

Seeing Ethan standing there, you can almost see the childlike joy at imagining it being empty and ready to get turned around. A tuxedo Italian with Louboutin heels and a ginormous popcorn drum, half past eleven somewhere in Palermo: Ingenious combination, you snap a picture. Ethan makes a cute face, posing like a pinup of the 50s. Who knows how many vintage store posters he’s seen during tours, he must have picked it up there. And— Is he blushing? Must be the dim lights in here.

Off you go to the auditorium. Ethan, who balance the popcorn with all care in the world like it’s his baby, walks the aisle slower than you. The slim steps don’t have any floor lighting. Not very heel-friendly, but since it’s not a huge budget theater and few people dare spike heels on those cobblestones outside anyway, the stairs shall be forgiven. You take out your phone and offer your arm. For every gentleman it takes a gentlewoman, duh. Like rock’n’roll and the camera staff, chivalry (or shevalry as Damiano calls it when Vic holds the door open) never dies. He mumbles a thanks, you climb upward to the fourth-last row, Ethan holds on tight.

No ankles twisted and not one popcorn spilled, you get seated on red velvet. The chairs are dated, but nevertheless ultra comfortable. Nobody else is here. The adverts roll, Ethan cracks open the lemonade bottle caps with his chunky golden lighter because he can. You toast to Mads Mikkelsen’s bone structure and good minestrone, Måneskin’s finished title track, the promo pics, and the discovery of Ethan’s favorite new drum. A whopping five things to toast about? The night’s going to be great.

Damiano catwalking across the screen, wearing a Versace skirt in the middle of otherwise-boring commercials does shake you up. He was picked as a testimonial recently. Though, your pulse is high enough. Ethan’s hair is brushing against your shoulders, not to mention his goddamn massive arms. He can’t get out a single word either for the entirety of the ads, avoiding eye contact all over again. Just how much suspense can starting to eat the first popcorn have. Well, you pick two from the very top and start munching.

Mads does a great job opening the movie as one would expect, but you just can’t concentrate. Instead, you stress-eat popcorn. Which makes Ethan do the same thing, at least he’s somewhat fixated on the screen. After the first ten minutes, he shakes his head. „That makes no sense at all,“ he clears his throat. „Yeah, yeah it clearly doesn’t,“ you agree, basically on Torchio-autopilot yourself for the lack of a better reply. You were too busy figuring out the components of his aftershave rather than the thin plot. Shifting in your seat, chugging lemonade…

The air conditioning is scarce, but at least the screen is quite large and proper. You try to focus on the cinematography and do small talk about it. If there’s something you can comment on without having followed the string of action, it’s at least this. You might be nervous, but you’re still a photographer. „Um, isn’t this chainmail nice in the closeup?“ — „Hm, I guess it works. We should ask Damiano to request something like this from Versace.“ — „Medieval Måneskin Rockers?“ — „Something like that.“ — „Hilarious.“

By the twenty-minute mark, the popcorn drum is almost empty. Gladly, that stuff just shrinks to bits in the stomach. The lemonade just has to galvanize it. You might be able to distract yourself with the camera shots and the last caramel chunks, but that doesn’t change Ethan’s long legs and Acqua di Parma perfume next to you. Yep, you finally figured out what it was, it wasn’t the aftershave. And well. Ethan smells like hotel soap from Milano to Napoli and back.

That scent basically dominates all the others besides a hint of cigar and basil and citrus-y deodorant mixed with runny sweat. God fuck, you can barely stand it. And the almond scent. You take a chance to at least jokingly point it out to him. The random movie flashback sequence is boring — and just as nonsensical as before, no offense to Mads though, he’s just walking around in chain mail — enough to deviate from whatever choppy convo you had going on before.

„I actually washed it twice,“ Ethan pulls off the silky scarf that functions as his current tie, and you recognize it. „The strawberry sauce was hard, but the cranberries… God no, I’ll never go near pana cotta again. Nothing against cream desserts.“ You take the scarf, smell it. Did he literally just hand it to you? Figures, he’s sweating bullets, too. And oh shit, he hasn’t talked that much all evening.

You slowly shift from bodies turned to the screen to facing each other. So up close, so up front, only God can help you know. His eyes are dark and reflective of the film’s flickering lights and changing scenes. You wish you could photograph them on sight. It would be as glimmering as your view from the hotel room, overwatching the unobstructed stars of the Mediterranean bay down the boulevard.

But it’s like you’re stuck in your position this way, feverishly thinking about a reply. What to pick up on, what to pick up on. You think about today, the evening where you edited things in his room. „Uh well, drop your laundry in the pool next time,“ you laugh, more than tentative, with your fingers randomly curling around the scarf. „The chlorine stuff will do the job for you. It’s so aggressive, it bleached by pants one shade lighter.“

Saved. Smooth transaction. Phew. „Oh, the pool was horrible. Not the photos, I mean… I don’t know how you can poison water that way.“ — „I know right? It’s still in my nose. But yeah, was a good idea with the underwater thing. The photos turned out really well.“ — „I really haven’t done something like that before but I guess it turned out hm, nice?“ — „Come on! Nice is understated. Are you fishing for compliments?“ — „No no, by all means!“ — „The one kneeling. It’s my favorite. I don’t even know what to do with all these pictures.“

„I don’t know. Maybe keep them?“ — „Keep… for what?“ — „It’s a separate series, right. The art director didn’t request it. Maybe they can be used for something later on during promotions.“ — „Yeah. We’re always a little extracurricular,“ you laugh again, tense in your voice, and empty your lemonade completely. „This, too,“ Ethan points at the theatre in general. „You’re good to talk to. The better version of alone time.“ — „Thank you. You’re great to go out with. I… really like it.“ Beautiful nature scenes show on screen, but they’re nothing but a blur. You take Ethan’s hands in the dark and smile. „Maybe we should do it more often.“

masterlist | bookmark/read it on ao3

#maneskin #ethan torchio #ethan torchio x reader #maneskin fanfic #maneskin scenario #måneskin #maneskin fluff #maneskin x reader #maneskin fanfiction #ethan x reader #ethan torchio fluff #ethan torchio fanfic

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jonahlovescoffee · 3 years

Text

Needing You | J.M.

a/n: inspired by leehom wang's 需要人陪 :’) the vid and the song is a masterpiece !!! and i can’t believe it’s my bday already D: anyways non-curly haired jonah supremacy people ;) happy reading <3

summary: jonah realised that you were the one for him and vice versa.

warnings: starts off a lil angsty ➳ super dee duper vague smut ➳ a lil fluff bc we all need it

word count: 3596

Jonah had always felt alone.

It was a ridiculous feeling to have for someone like him—a famous boy band star with millions of fans who cheered for him at every concert, followers that showed him so much of love and support online and friends and family who always had his back even when he entered troubled waters.

But at the end of the day when it was time to return to his empty bedroom, his status didn’t mean anything anymore. His expensive house was beautiful, ornately designed inside and out by a skilled architect and elegantly furnished but he still found it so empty, even when he’s living with his friends. It wasn’t hard for him to find out the reason: there was nothing waiting for him there, nothing for him to look forward to. He was nothing more than an exhausted, lonely soul who had no one to turn to for affection or comfort when night fell and he’s once again all alone in his room.

Tonight wasn’t any different.

Jonah pushed the sliding doors open to let some fresh air in. The sounds of laughter from his roommates and their respective girlfriends in the living room was so loud that they could faintly be heard from his room, a stark contrast to the silence in his bedroom that was deafening, suffocating, even.

He leant against the door frame for a moment, hands tucked snugly in the pockets of his sweatpants as he stared at the endless night sky. There were no stars in sight, the light pollution in LA being too strong and all, so he closed his eyes before letting out a sigh.

He knew how miserable he looked at that moment. Even his friends’ laughter seemed to be mocking him now. He had gotten used to staying single since he was tired of dealing with gold-diggers who only had eyes on his money yet sometimes he couldn’t help but wonder why there seemed to be someone for everyone but none for him?

His mom has his dad; Daniel has Emily; Jack has Gabriela...the list goes on and on.

To be frank, there was one girl who had unintentionally weaved her way into his mind and his heart and had been residing there from the day she walked up to him at a party and tried to flirt with him. You.

You weren’t beautiful for something as temporary as your looks like the other girls that he had dated in the past. You were beautiful for the way you thought, for the sparkle in your eyes when you talked about something you loved, for your ability to make other people (especially him) smile even if you were feeling under the weather. You were beautiful, deep down to your soul and he couldn’t stop his urge to get to know you better, to spend time with you, to take care of you despite constantly denying his growing feelings towards you whenever anyone asked.

So one thing led to another and one night you found each other bare skin against skin, lips on lips and...bodies joined into one as he buried his length inside you and sinful symphonies of your moans and cries of his name filled the room. The first time was a drunken mistake but you both couldn’t get enough of each other so it happened again, the blissful night ending with you swearing that it’d be the ‘last time’. But it happened again. And again. And again. Until your promise that ‘this will be the last time we do this’ no longer held any meaning because you both knew that you would always eventually find yourselves back in the same situation.

That was how both of you ended up becoming ‘friends with benefits’. Although never referring to each other as such, a silent pact was there, a fine line between a platonic and romantic relationship that neither of you dared to cross.

No strings attached.

So when his heart skips a beat or two or maybe more whenever he sees you, when he almost forgets how to breathe whenever you are in close proximity, when his protective instincts kick in whenever another guy’s stare lingers on you for much longer than necessary, he had to remind himself repeatedly that “you are nothing more than a friend” and he shouldn’t be caring for and thinking about you this much.

The moment he started to convince himself that he wasn’t in love with you was when he realised that he was, in fact, already head over heels in love with you.

Maybe that’s why these couple of days without being able to see you because you were busy with work had been nearly driving him crazy.

His phone buzzed, yanking him back into reality. A smile involuntarily crept onto his face when he saw the sender of the short text. Ah, speak of the devil.

y/n: hey, u awake?

He typed a reply right away.

jonah: yeah...can’t sleep

He hesitated for a bit before adding three more words and he pressed ‘send’ before he could change his mind.

jonah: kinda miss u

A ‘typing’ text bubble appeared, then disappeared before appearing again shortly afterwards.

y/n: want me to come over? :)

His heart sank when you didn’t mention anything about missing him too but it’s fine. He’s fine. At least he was the one you chose to text in the middle of the night, he comforted himself.

jonah: nah, you stay where you are. I’ll go to your place. It’s dangerous to drive at night

He was already putting on a sweater, not forgetting to grab an extra one so he wouldn’t have to stay shirtless if you wanted to keep the one he’s wearing, which was something you always did (and he’d never say no to you because you always, always looked so stunning in his clothes) before grabbing his keys. A ding sounded from his phone again.

y/n: but it isn’t dangerous for u?

He rolled his eyes, but a smile remained on his face as he made his way downstairs and out the front door, past his tipsy friends whose offers to join them were turned down by him, ignoring their drunken pleas for him to stay and have fun. He turned his attention back to his phone once he’s outside.

jonah: i’m just looking out for u dumbass

jonah: and my driving skills are better than you soooo

y/n: yea whatever; but on a serious note, i honestly don’t deserve u (ﾉ꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ) ﾉ♡

jonah: good to know u think so too

y/n: you prick >:( i take my words back

jonah: too late :P see u later

He got into his car and turned off his phone, putting it away, hence missing the text from you that came seconds later.

y/n: can’t wait to be showered by your kisses (*˘︶˘*) drive safe! ily x

You never truly understood the whole concept of love, romantic-wise that is.

Some said it’s sweet, yet more as fresh fruit than candy or confectionary. Others said it’s colourful, yet more as summer blooms than the neon lights of frenetic city streets.

You never understood what they meant and often dismissed the sappy descriptions of love as nothing other than a bunch of bullshit until you met Jonah, and you found yourself spiralling deeper into the rabbit hole of love, a feeling you once thought of as totally absurd and a complete waste of time.

Then again, it wasn’t your fault that Jonah was an easy guy to love; he was sweet, charming, endearing and so much more. So it’s not a surprise that falling in love with him was the easy part; it's admitting to yourself that it happened that's hard.

Because admitting your feelings meant that you had to deal with them; and dealing with them equaled confrontation that might put whatever friendship between the both of you at risk, or even destroy it.

So you played everything cool and made him think that you were perfectly content with staying in the friend zone while maintaining a strictly physical relationship with him although it killed you to not be able to call him yours, not be able to keep his hoodies forever and wear them whenever because you didn’t have the right to.

Everything went well, until you were forced to not be able to see him for almost a week because of work and you missed him so terribly that you swore you might combust, especially when you found out from his text that you were on his mind too.

Did he mean it platonically? Or maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way as you did? Your brain had barely enough time to fully process the meaning of his simple text before your itchy fingers which seemed to have a mind of its own had already typed a reply that ended with an ‘ily’ and pressed on the blue arrow button, causing your line of text to disappear for a couple of seconds before reappearing in a blue text bubble on the screen with the word ‘delivered’ written in a tiny grey font below it. Shit.

You debated whether to delete the message or just leave it there and ultimately decided to go with the latter but you started to panic when it stayed on delivered even as half an hour passed.

The chime of your doorbell stopped your overthinking—only for a moment though—before you opened the door and was greeted with the sight of Jonah towering over you at the doorway. A familiar sense of nervousness bloomed in your stomach, slowly spreading to all parts of your body and your heart sped up a little, as if you went back in time and were once again a lovesick schoolgirl who had just met her crush for the first time.

“Hi,” both of you said at the same time and giggles erupted at the coincidence.

“Can’t believe you’re finally here,” without thinking twice, you latched your arms around him before jumping and wrapping your legs around his waist. Jonah didn’t miss a beat, both hands already in place beneath your thighs to give you support.

“Someone’s happy to see me,” he teased, walking into your apartment and shutting the door behind him with a kick. You were glowing with so much happiness when you look at him that he almost melted on the spot. He grinned, amused. “It has only been a week, Y/N.”

“That’s still too long for me,” you whined like a little child, burying your head in the crook of his neck, the faint masculine scent of his expensive cologne engulfing your senses. He started walking, and you didn’t even need to look to know that he’s heading towards your bedroom. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Oh really?” He asked and you nodded. “Or were you actually missing the good sex i give?”

“You don’t give good sex so I don’t see a point in missing something that never existed,” you replied swiftly and he laughed but didn’t say anything back, far too used to your ‘i’ll-keep-teasing-you-nonstop-until-you’ll-feel-like-killing-me’ personality, a trait of yours that might be annoying in certain circumstances, yet it was still something he loved so dearly, along with all the other parts of you. “I just miss my best friend. A…a little too much. Is that normal?”

He carefully laid you onto your bed. “Nothing about our relationship is normal, y/n,” he said, tossing his extra sweater to the side before climbing on top of you, hands placed on either side of your head. “Best friends don’t do the things we do.”

“Then what are we?” Your voice dropped to a whisper. His face is close, so close to yours that your mind can hardly function.

“You tell me,” he gave you the freedom to decide. Jonah has always been like this with you. Whenever there’s a choice that has to be made, he always lets you have a say in it first.

But this time, you can’t give him an answer. This is dangerous. Feelings are dangerous. And not to mention complicated. You can try to squeeze your brain juices till the very last drop and still be incapable of finding the right words to describe the burning desire for him.

So you choose to show him with your actions instead, hoping that he’ll get the message and even if he doesn’t, it’ll be fine. You’ll be fine…you think.

Your worries died in an instant, however when your lips collided with his, having closed the distance between the both of you by pulling him into you with your hands clutching onto the front of his sweater.

You might be the one who initiated the kiss, but he was the one who took the lead, tongue prodding at your lip and you granted him access to your wet cavern. His tongue then lapped at yours, earning a low purring from you that echoed through the space as your hands habitually slithered around him to tug at his brown locks. He smiled into the kiss because God, he’d never get tired of tasting you.

You were sweet, so so sweet and the lewd sounds of your make-out session reverberating in the room vividly were the only reminder that you were indeed here with him and not a mere conjuration of his imagination.

He loathed to part from you, but he did because you both needed oxygen. You looked up at him with your flushed cheeks and swollen lips, looking ever so delicate and fragile under him. He brushed a stray strand of hair out of your face, and let his hand linger on your cheek.

“What do you want us to be, y/n?” He asked and you hated that you don’t have a confident answer for his question.

“I…I don’t know,” you sounded so small, so weak. You would’ve hated that, once, but today, you could accept that you were weak for him and you didn’t mind laying yourself bare in front of him because you knew that Jonah would never ever use your weaknesses to his advantage. With him, you were safe and sound. So you gathered your courage and decided to tell him the truth, holding onto the small shred of hope that he might feel the same way too and trusted that your friendship was strong enough to remain unchanged even if he didn’t. “But…I think we,” you took a deep breath. His eyes searched yours for any clue about what you were about to say next.

“We can’t be friends anymore.”

His breathing stilled as all the air was ripped from his lungs. “Why?” He isn’t prepared to lose you, can’t think of a life without you, can’t—

But you weren’t finished talking yet. “Because…I think I’m in love with you,” you blurted everything in one go.

Jonah couldn’t breathe again, but for completely different reasons now.

It felt like time stopped all of a sudden, with both of you looking at each other in total silence, a shocked expression written all over his face whereas yours was painted in regret.

“Oh my gosh, I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know what is wrong with me oh shit shit shit shit…” you cursed under your breath, along the tense silence, hands flew to cover your beet red face, so embarrassed you might as well just dig a hole and hide in there forever. “Just forget about everything I’ve said. I’m so sorry gosh—“

“y/n, look at me,” He pried your hands off your face gently. “Calm down, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s…it’s not fine at all,” your lip quivered and you felt like crying because of your stupid nerves. You averted your gaze from his, your expression solemn. “Because you’ll never feel the same way about a plain nobody like me and I…I completely understand that.”

“Hey, Y/N, listen to me,” he lifted his hand and held your chin, tilting your head so you were looking directly at him. “You aren’t just a ‘plain nobody’ to me. You’re the most beautiful, most talented, kindest girl I’ve ever known…”

“…and I’m in love with you too, you know,” he admitted so softly that you would’ve missed his words if your current attention wasn’t focused solely on the nearly perfect man before you. “Have been for a long time.”

“Really?” You couldn’t believe your ears.

“Of course, y/n,” his voice was thick with emotion and that was how you knew that he wasn’t lying. “I’m all yours.”

He kissed you again, swallowing your dreamy sighs but this time, when he broke the kiss, he slowly, carefully, undressed you, hands and lips never leaving your skin as he made his way down your body, exploring your curves and edges that was long engraved in his memory yet they felt so new, so different under his touch. He handled you with the utmost care as if you were his most prized possession. He took his sweet time ravishing you, prioritising your pleasure over his, ensuring that you felt good the entire process.

And when your bodies joined at long last and your insides were filled with his release while his length was covered in yours, you flipped him over so he was now lying beneath you, before leaning down to land a kiss on his lips.

“My turn.”

His skin was warm and it felt nice to the touch, so you practically melted completely into his embrace to the point where the side of your cheek was pressed against his shoulder and the rest of your body was curled up in his arms.

You were in nothing but his sweater, the rest of your clothes scattered haphazardly across the bedroom floor and he, too, was almost bare with nothing but his underwear on. You laid there in comfortable silence, contentedly basking in each other’s presence, utterly worn out.

“Go on tour with me and the band next month,” he said out of the blue. “I don’t think I can live without seeing you for months.”

“But what if your fans find out about us?”

“What about it? Pretty girl is too embarrassed to be seen with someone like me?” He joked and you snorted.

“You know what I meant,” you gave his shoulder a weak shove. “What if they end up hating me?”

“They won’t,” he replied without any ounce of hesitation.

“But—“

He placed a finger on your lips. “Let me do all the worrying, okay?” He cut you off, his tone gentle. “You think about something else. Don’t wanna tire out your pretty little mind.”

You wanted to retort but he stopped you before you could get any words out.

“Plus, it’s late. Sleep first,” a kiss on the crown of your head. “Talk tomorrow. Goodnight, love.”

You felt warm and fuzzy inside upon hearing the way the pet name rolled off his tongue so naturally, as if it wasn’t the first time used it on you. “Goodnight, Jo. Sweet dreams,” you gave him a quick peck on the lips. “I love you.”

“Love you more,” you were about to open your mouth to protest when he added, “And don’t bother to fight me on this.”

“Fine,” you let out a breathy chuckle. “You win.”

“Good,” you didn’t have to look to know that he was smiling because you could practically hear it in his voice. He held you close to him under the covers, his arms tightening around you as his breathing gradually slowed into a steady pace not long afterwards, as if he was afraid that you would slip away during his sleep if he wasn’t careful.

Sleep consumed him first so you were left alone in the dark with your thoughts that were all over the place. You had yet to manage to wrap your head around everything that had happened, still in disbelief that you were currently in the arms of the man of your dreams, huddled on your double bed that used to feel too spacious, too cold.

Most importantly, you couldn’t believe that you were capable of love.

You tend to pull people close, then push them away harshly once they get too close and start to see through your tough facade, fearing that they’d one day be able to catch a glimpse of the real you. The vulnerable side of you. You had had these very efficient defences built up around you for so long and he just walked through every single one of them with ease. You could ask how he did it, but what's the point? He was here, like a beautiful fallen angel right in front of you and you were so glad, even if you’re still sometimes hiding, imagining a distance instead of seeing him right there, always looking at you with a soft gaze that you couldn’t decipher and a smile that never failed to light up your world.

It might still take some time to get used to the change—get used to having someone to lean on, to count on, to share your burdens with because you have Jonah now; to keep you warm and safe during the darkest and chilliest of nights, to be your light that shines on the right path that leads you home whenever you lose your way and to be the one who loves you even at your worst, something that, now that you thought about it, he had already been doing since the very beginning.

And you couldn't be anymore grateful.

taglist: @chilling-seavey @neralondon @anora-lightwoodbane @randomlimelightxxx @hopinglimelight @kvd963 @cutiebandlover202 @savspersonalproperty @slowdownatthelotusinn @angelmarais @freakshows199 @my-fangirling-outlet @the-girl-who-cried-wolf @sadbitchfangirl @hopinglimelight

#wdw #jonah marais #why dont we #why don’t we #corbyn besson #daniel seavey #jack avery #zach herron #wdw imagines #jonah marais imagines #jonah marais x reader #jonah marais fluff #jonah marais angst

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badwithten · 3 years

Photo

〉xiaojun x fem!reader

〉word count 1.1k

〉warnings tattoos??

〉a/n thanks to @fruityutas for helping me come up with the tattoo idea, sadly i couldn’t do him drinking lemon juice maybe another time

〉from my 500 follower event

〉for @pufflix I HOPE YOU ENJOY i’ve wanted to do a tattoo au for a long time so this was really fun to write <3

Xiaojun was a good guy and even better tattoo artist. His shop being the most popular in the area, known for its unique art and beautiful tattoos. He had tattooed more people he could remember, ranging from small-time celebrities to mother and daughters getting matching ink and even himself on those drunken nights spent with the tattoo gun in hand. He kept his looks professional, trimmed hair, a clean face and a white button-up. But if you were to remove his shirt and catch sight of him wearing shorts, you would know that under all that he was covered in ink. His neck, hands and face are clear of anything yet his arms are fully sleeved. Chest decorated in random tattoos and legs gave the same treatment. It all looked a bit messy but he has plans to fill it out eventually.

“What are you going to do when you run out of room?” You had asked him one night out of curiosity, fingers lighting tracing over the skull tattoo on his lower stomach, head resting on his chest.

“Well I have a blank canvas right here, don’t I?” His hand rubbed up and down your arms, giving you a cheeky smile as you pushed him away. At first, you laughed at the idea. Tattoos were something you had never thought about getting, in fact, you had active thoughts about how much you hated them for most of your teenage life. And although your mind had changed ever since meeting Xiaojun, you still had no plans on ever getting a tattoo.

But here you are, a few months later, sitting in his empty shop late at night. The leather chair under you beginning to grow sticky with sweat as you nervously wait for him to set up. “You don’t have to do this you know?” He eyes you up from across the room, the corner of his vision catching your shaking leg for the last half hour. “It’s not too late to pull out”

“No, I’m fine. I want to do this” You convince him with a deep breath, your hand reaching down to press on your leg and try to calm down. “This was my idea anyway, I want it”

“Whatever you say” He finally comes over, everything set in place as he pulls on his black latex gloves and picks up the machine, ready to ink your skin. As he turns it on and hovers the needle over your arm, he looks at you one more time. You give him a smile, nodding at him to continue despite the anxiety travelling through your skin.

You don’t say much as he continues to work, the pain drowning out into a mild buzz. This is something he does on a daily basis, he knows how to handle clients, especially nervous ones. And you aren’t too different, but there’s something so painful about seeing you so anxious and in pain. It breaks his heart knowing he’s the one doing this to you. It took him a lot of convincing to even allow you the idea of getting tattooed by him despite it being something he had joked about for a long time.

Yet something about seeing his art being permanently attached to your person, the ink he put into skin being something to last you a lifetime, it makes him feel special. Sure this kind of attachment is placed onto every client, but for you, it’s different. No matter if you guys break up or fight, you will always have a part of him with you.

“So” He pulls away to wipe the skin, admiring the lines he had done so far. “Can I ask what made you change your mind?”

“I was looking at you awhile ago and um” It’s hard to focus on your words at the needle stabbing into you, but you try your best to forget about it. “And something just sunk in my heart, like I just knew it was you”

“What do you mean?” He stopped for a second, sitting up to look at you fully. Just like that night, your heart sunk again. His light hair pulled back by a hairband, the glasses hanging from his nose, eyebrows furrowed in concertation and face sweaty from the intense heat of his shop. He was the one, your person, your love.

“I just really love you, and I can’t lie and say I haven’t had my doubts about us, but that night, everything just made sense. I knew that night that you were the one, no matter what” You didn’t mean to get so emotional, feeling tears well in your eyes but you quickly turn away, nervous at his silent reaction.

“I love you so much” His words are expressionless, but when you turn to see him again, they speak a thousand loves you. You two stare at each other, madly in love, for a while longer before he gets back to finishing the design on your arm.

“Are you even going to ask me what it means?” You laugh at him, the flower that is now permanently on you that you got for him was something he hadn’t asked about. Blindly trusting your decision.

“What does it mean, love?” He’s able to listen and hold conversations as he cleans you up, finishing off the small tattoo.

“It’s a forget me not” You admire his work, loving the small blue flower on your lower arm. “It’s true love. It’s a promise that you’ll always be in my thoughts, always be with me. This is a promise to you that I love you and that I’ll always remember you”

“Y/N, I-” He freezes, taking a moment to process your words. Despite all the time thinking his heart was complete, hearing and seeing your actions filled it up more. Maybe too much. Love spilling out, drenching his insides and warming him up. It was almost too hard to look at you without melting away further. Tears built up, never once had he felt so good, so loved. And he has a feeling he’ll never feel empty again after this. But it’s so heavy, it’s too much love for one man to have. All the weight pushes him forward, the wipe in his hand falling to the ground as he lays himself to you.

“I love you” At first he says quietly, mumbling it into your shirt as he holds you close to him. He knows that all the love he has is too much for him, but with you. He’s not alone. “I love you!”

Every other time after this it’s louder, he screams his love out. Wishing for you to feel just the same as he kisses you, trying to ignore the tears down his face. He holds your arm again, looking down on his art dearly. Despite you being the one to gift him the promise of everlasting love, he knows he’ll never forget this night. Never forget about your love.

#wayvhoursnet #unfortunatus: paradiso #NCTmentary.net #nct #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct reactions #wayv #wayv x reader #wayv imagines #wayv fluff #wayv scenarios #wayv reactions #xiaojun #xiaojun x reader #xiaojun imagines #xiaojun fluff

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lydias--stiles · 3 years

Text

i’m getting old, it makes me reckless

canon compliant juke | angst | title: when we were young // adele

The band ended their last song in a clash of instruments and vocals, roaring above the audience yelling the lyrics right back. It was the biggest venue yet, the arena stretching far and wide and holding more people than Julie could imagine. Her throat was aching, but it was all worth it. Every note savoured. Every lyric tasted till it staled on her tongue.

It was the gig before she left for college, leaving a whole lot more behind than this arena with the thousands of adoring strangers.

All four were drenched in sweat. Alex, with his hands red from an insanely elaborate three minute drum solo. Luke, with his callouses aching and slick, barely holding on to the strings. Reggie, no longer wearing his leather jacket and hair come undone. Julie, glitter on her cheeks mixed with the sweat and hair like a raging lion. They looked and felt maniacal. They played the concert of the year. The absolute euphoria they experienced wouldn’t be gone for a while, though her blush would quickly fade.

Now, she could still pretend Luke and her were still together. Now, even Alex and Reggie were kept in the dark from their long dreaded decision. Now, the idea that she stood on stage with the loves of her life was enough for a satisfied smile to bloom on her lips.

“Thank you!”, she bellowed into the mic. The audience didn’t stop. Screaming, whistling, asking for more. Encore, encore, encore! They were all out of songs though, having played their anthem again when they asked for it the first time. Covers seemed like a lackluster ending to the night, the band members shooting each other doubtful looks. The finality of it all ached her.

Luke’s gaze caught hers; troubled, unable to keep the sorrow at bay. Had this been any other concert, she would’ve kissed him backstage and remind him that feeling empty after giving it his all was normal. That she felt that too. She wouldn’t do that though. And she also had an inkling his expression wasn’t about that.

Words pushed themselves out of her throat before she thought about it. “I have something. It’s a cover though. Do you guys like covers?”

Another salvo of applause and shrieks, a sea of phones getting whipped out to capture every move. Reggie approached her with a slight frown.

“What’re you thinking, Julie?”

She moved away from the mic. “Is it alright if I do a solo cover?”

His casual nod caused nerves to coil in her stomach, only now realising what she did. What she was about to do to herself. The bassist made a sign at the boys to get off stage, Luke’s fingers ghosting her back (not entirely, never entirely, she has never truly felt the atoms of his hands touch her) and following the boys into the wings.

Curiosity buzzed around the concert hall, Julie making her way to the grand piano on the left of the stage and attaching her mic in the designated stand. When she looked into void, it instantly quieted down. Her timid voice was like a sharp thread slicing the air.

“This next song, uh…” Swallowing back the feeling of loss that simmered right beneath her skin, she took a deep breath. A needle could drop, so silent everyone heard her pained intake. “I’ve taught it myself a while ago. It’s quite melancholic, but I’ve always been a bit like that, I guess.”

Her feet found the pedals, fingers the well-loved keys. The lights were hot on her skin, yet a certain person’s stare felt more fiery than anything else.

Julie took another steadier breath. “Thank you once more for a beautiful night, LA. This is ‘When We Were Young’.”

The beginning notes caused another uproar from people recognising the song, lighters and phone flashlights flickering up one by one like stars. She sunk into the notes, let her hands find the familiar path as all she could think about was Luke. Every word would be laced with the memory of him.

He wasn’t gone, but he might as well had stolen her heart and vanished into the night with it.

With her eyes shut, the first lyrics uttered melodically from her lips.

Everybody loves the things you do From the way you talk, to the way you move

(A fifteen year old Julie watched as the crowd ate up Luke’s guitar solo, the riff an electrifying ensemble of unique sounds that shouldn’t work but somehow did. He played it for them, but his torso was twisted her way, like his body couldn’t decide who he preferred. Back then, Julie presumed it was the crowd, obviously. Music was everything for Luke. Music and nothing more. Sure, that included her and the boys, but she had accepted quickly on she’d never claim that top spot in his heart. And she was fine with that. It hurt a little, except then she’d remind herself of her own love for music and what a gift it was playing in a band like theirs. To be the name people sought out online.

Luke shot some winks to the first row, dropping to his knees to get him even closer to the fans. Alex caught her eye when she turned around, rolling his good-naturedly. Luke being Luke, it meant.

“It doesn’t inflate your ego, does it?”, she teased hours later, slumped on opposite sides of the couch.

He scoffed, a smile edging his lips. “Are you jealous?”

“It is-” she pulled herself upright, brown peering into the curious green. “-merely an observation.”

“An observation.” He mimicked her, all of a sudden not so far away. Their legs were brushing and if she leaned in, she could kiss him. His head tilted, never one to stop teasing. “Right.”

The high of a good performance made her say it. “Do you want me to be?”

When he kissed her, she expected his lips to be cold. Ghost-cold. Instead, they were warm and soft, like in her dreams, and he smiled when she kissed him back - also like in her dreams. It had been short, the way his nose brushed hers a promise for more.)

Everybody here is watching you 'Cause you feel like home, you're like a dream come true

(They quickly found an escape from the hysteria in Griffith Park. It was closeby Julie’s house and its sweeping nature left enough places for Julie and Luke to hide and be with each other without disturbances. It was a bit unorthodox for a teenage couple to burrow themselves in the forest, but she supposed she threw normality out the window the moment she decided she wanted to date a ghost.

Luke sighed, body dropping on the soft grass and pulling her with him. His beanie fell off, a pleased smile quirking on her lips as she raked a hand through his locks. It was always a cause for celebration whenever he got rid of the hat, the impending doom of baldness something she’d warn him about had he still been alive. Julie pushed the thought back. She couldn’t think that way. A finger curled around a soft strand of hair.

His nose pressed in her cheek, coaxing her closer until she snugly fit in the curve of his body. Lips moved against her skin. “Can I keep you here? Screw homework.”

Julie chuckled. Her meandering hand sloped to his chest, circling the soft fabric of his sweater. “Unfortunately, calculus and I have a date tonight.”

“You’re seeing someone else?”, he gasped. “Julie!”

“I know.” His laugh reverberated, the sound melting into her skin as she pushed herself impossibly close. Adding, her voice was muffled: “Very sneaky of me.”

Luke’s arms fully wrapped around her, humming contently at their new position of having her half-sprawled on top of him. If it wasn’t for the slight flush on his cheeks, she’d think he completely cool about this. It made her smile. He may act all tough sometimes, but he was just as new to this as she was.

She tapped against the red. “The macho is gone.”

He rolled his eyes, though it held a glimmer of fondness. It was for her, she giddily remembered. The way he faltered in quiet awe, soft and timid, was for her. Reaching to kiss him, the blaring declaration that he was home rang in her head.

She didn’t tell him that. Ever.)

But if by chance you're here alone Can I have a moment before I go? 'Cause I've been by myself all night long Hoping you're someone I used to know

(“Sixteen,” he bellowed. “Is there a song about being sixteen?!”

She laughed. “Ellie Goulding has one, I think. You wanna sing me a song about being sixteen-”

“Cause you are sixteen!” He hoisted himself on the grand piano, grinning at her from across the studio. She tried as best as she could to match it.

Birthdays have felt like taboo ever since the boys came into her life. She aged, they didn’t, and eventually they would have to disband. Eventually, everyone would notice how they were frozen in time. Eventually, she and Luke would be too far apart in ages.

Julie has dreaded her birthday since the first time her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him.

Sensing something was off, the frown replaced the grin. “You okay, Jules?”

“Yeah,” she dismissed, waving him off with an air of nonchalance. It was easy for her, something she became an expert in after her mom passed. “Just tired from school.”

He poofed in front of her, hands massaging into her shoulders. She couldn’t look at him. And then she said it anyway.

“Are you okay?”

The unsaid was clear, him stilling as his jaw locked in place. It was then that something cracked between them. Unnoticeable, like a small line in a ceramic cup. They were fine after, but never before had they stamped an expiration date on their relationship. Her simple question changed everything.

He coughed, struggling with the smile. It felt rehearsed. “Course,” he muttered. “I’m good.”)

You look like a movie You sound like a song My God, this reminds me of when we were young

(He breathed into the kiss like she himself gave him life, hot and open-mouthed and tongues caressing to feel more. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, legs straddling his waist in the safety of her bedroom. He left no space between them. Flush together, fingers pressing into her back, breaths and grins mingling when they parted for air. How she got him breathless, she wouldn’t ask. The fact that he did, was enough for her. He never felt like a ghost to her. Not before they started dating and certainly not now.

Each kiss was like music to her ears. Each touch alighting her skin with sparks of affection and need.

“God, I love you,” he whispered.

Her dazzling smile stretched against his jaw, halting in place. She giggled. “You love me?”

Their eyes met, his hooded from passion as he slowly tracked her face. “It’s not obvious?”

“It is.” A tender kiss brushed his lips, thumbs swiping his cheekbones with that boundless devotion she never wanted to let go of. It was the most blissful feeling in the world.

Julie uttered it right back. “I love you too.”)

Her voice exploded into an anguished belt, head rolling back as the lyrics flew into the sky. If she hit her notes, if she was making any sense, if the audience was worried - it didn’t matter. Julie needed this. This was her goodbye.

Let me photograph you in this light In case it is the last time that we might Be exactly like we were before we realised We were sad of getting old, it made us restless It was just like a movie It was just like a song

(Julie jumped on top of him in a sneak attack. Armed with her Polaroid camera, she swerved out the way from his grabby hands as she took shot after shot. Her laughing boyfriend snatched her by her side, fingers like spider tickling her until she relented with tears in her eyes. Strewn around them were the pictures, still processing.

“What’re you doing?”, he chuckled.

Julie plucked a Polaroid from her mattress and began waving it around. “You look so cute,” was her simple answer. His grin widened at that.

“Only now?”

“I wanted to capture you just like this. When-” When we’re like this, so goddamn happy and in love. “When you look all…” While Julie mimicked his face, Luke planted his hands on the mattress to pull himself up and give her a chaste kiss.

His smirk eradicated her previous thoughts. “Can’t make a silly face after I have sex with my beautiful girlfriend?”

She hummed, all mushy from his actions. “You can. That’s why I’m taking a picture.”

Luke kissed her again, letting that ‘silly face’ run free and craning his neck to watch the picture develop.

He cried when he didn’t appear. Another crack in the cup.)

I was so scared to face my fears Nobody told me that you'd be here

(An outsider looking into the Molina household would think there was funeral going on. An insider would be even more confused, as Julie Molina just got accepted into USC and rather felt like crying for three full days then celebrate with her friends.

It settled then. She’d go to college, like she always wanted, and have her life radically change once more - not like she wanted. The band was solid, she and Luke were solid. College would change everything. Alex assured her that it’d be fine, that minor adjustments wouldn’t ruin them, but Julie had her doubts.)

And I swear you’d moved overseas That's what you said, when you left me

(He hardly looked at her when she turned seventeen. She couldn’t blame him. Her doubts, fears stacking on top of one another at rapid pace, surged to the forefront. They were the same age. Tomorrow, she’d be 364 days closer to eighteen. Closer to being older, to surpassing him, to hitting their expiration date.

His troubled expression resolved a little later. Back to his bouncy, enthusiastic self, he showered her in kisses and dedicated all the songs at their gig in Raven’s Nest to her. The boys even sang her ‘Dancing Queen’ by ABBA, her appropriately dressed in sparkly flared trousers and matching top. Her fears were forgotten then. Later too, when she giggled as he pulled her into a laughing kiss, the glitter of her clothes staining his own.

Luke was so alive in that moment. Sweat brimming his forehead and buzzing with adrenaline and each kiss rougher than the next. He was real, real, real, real, real, real.

The lie brought her temporary comfort.)

Julie repeated the chorus, body trembling from all the memories hitting her at once. Soon, the numbing final strike would bring her ease. For her sake, for his, for the band. The refrain flowed through.

When we were young When we were young When we were young When we were young

(“What about ‘when we were young’?”, Julie proposed, blue pen pressed into her songbook. Luke sat next to her, slouched against the front of the couch as his eyes were fixed on the ceiling, mustering for the muses to gift them genius lyrics.

“When we were young?” He chuckled. “That’s a joke, right?”

She paused, pen clenching between her fingers as her head turned to look at him. “What?”

He caught her tone, straightening his back with a shrug. “Nothing.”

“No, why do you think that was a joke?”

They’ve been on edge ever since her dad bought her all the USC merch the online store offered. The sea of red draped across her room got him upset, once his favourite colour now his biggest enemy. It wasn’t like they were trying to hurt each other, but…

Julie didn’t know what to do anymore. Songwriting was their usual remedy and even that didn’t diffuse the tension. She wished her mom was here, for advice, except would she be able to give proper words of wisdom when a relationship with a ghost was unprecedented?

All she wanted was go back to the start, when flirtatious jabs were thrown around and they danced around each other. To kiss him for the first time again. She wanted to go back and then continue to go back every time they hit this point. To love him in a loop; to not age.

He sighed, scribbling an annotation in the margin. “Do you really want me to answer that, Jules?”

Her lips thinned. “No.”

She taught herself the song she was singing right now that night, after he and the boys went off with Willie to some obscure concert. When she woke up the next day, he apologised for his shitty behaviour. It became harder to let love lead when cracks met them at every corner.)

It's hard to admit that everything just takes me back To when you were there, to when you were there And a part of me keeps holding on just in case it hasn't gone

A choked breath caught the fragile note, barely audible for anyone but her.

‘Cause I still care, do you still care?

(“Jules, you’re going to college in a week. You’re gonna turn eighteen and you’re gonna meet other people and you will not wanna tell them you’re dating a hologram that doesn’t fucking age!”

The raging spiel left him in one breath, face red and tears spilling with each hitting word. His shouts were heavy and tinged with devastation. The studio, once a safe haven, was now a warzone. He’s been sitting on those ugly truths for a while, Julie realised, willing herself to not cry. They had the biggest gig of their lives in a few hours and she couldn’t fuck up her face.

Luke didn’t mean to do it either. Both were hyper-focused the day of a gig. Normally, at least. It was simply a cardboard box too many in her bedroom, another proud comment from Ray, another nostalgic remark from Reggie. The fears stacked up for him as well; she should’ve known he’d explode sooner than later.

Her quivering lip gulped back the nausea edging her throat. She couldn’t breath. “You don’t think I know that? I was just- I just-” A traitorous tear slipped out. “I was hoping we’d have more time. Why did it go so fast?” Why did our expiration date race us to the finish line?

Her boyfriend she loved with all her heart stood right in front of her, yet it felt like they were oceans apart.

Trembling hands slid up her arms to her shoulders, pulling her into a tight hug. Tearless sobs wracked her body, jaw slack in agony as his action was enough confirmation. This is the end, it meant. They have reached their last chapter. He made up his mind and she wasn’t allowed to change it.

If she did, they’d burn the band with them too.

“I’m sorry,” he cried, face wet with tears pressed into her neck. “I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”

Julie gasped for air. “Don’t. Don’t apologise.”

He shook his head, blotched and with a look she never wanted to see again. “If I could change anything, it’s this, Julie. I want to be alive for you so badly - feeling it isn’t enough anymore. You deserve better.”

Furiously blinking, she felt moisture cling to her lashes. “I deserve you,” she warbled. “I love you.”

When he didn’t say it back right away, another tear smeared across her cheek. Her mouth shaped into a please, but he shook his head, shuddering with remorse. “You deserve to be loved out in the open, Julie. Not just in the dark.”

“Please, Luke,” it barely came out, pain squeezing her lungs. “Please. You’re real to me, you’ve always- it was never in the dark.”

He let go of her. The loss of contact made her freeze. His arms hung limp by his sides. Time, for one singular moment, stood still. Her wish came true. Why did it feel like he just disappeared right then and there? Julie bit her lip, waiting for it to happen. It didn’t, but she didn’t dare touching him in case the magic was lost. Luke seemed fearful too, his shivering breaths like knives on her ears. She left before he could say anything else.

Julie wailed and redid her make-up in the backseat of her car until it was time to go.)

The rough vibrato pinched her throat once more, pushing through for the final chorus.

We were sad of getting old, it made us restless Oh, I'm so mad I'm getting old, it makes me reckless

(The year prior, Julie plucked his maroon henley from her bedroom floor as Luke was sound asleep behind her. She shrugged it on and examined herself in the mirror. If she could have it all, she’d wish to never age, to never surpass seventeen and be with Luke forever.

If she could have even more, she’d wish to grow old with him. It was a scary thought to feel so confident about at sixteen, but Julie knew. She just knew. A gut feeling should always be allowed, her mom used to say. This was it.

Julie wished she could do this every day. Stealing his shirt and seeing it fray over time. She wanted stains and holes and fabric thinning from washing it so much. She wanted messy. She wanted real.

Crawling back in his embrace and placing a soft kiss on whatever skin she found that early in the morning, she wished for him to be real until she fell back asleep.)

It was just like a movie It was just like a song When we were young

The last note settled into arena like a heavy blanket, everyone watching with baited breath as the wrecked singer stumbled out of her seat and muttered another thank you. Her shaky smile didn’t waver while the deafening applause washed over her. It was when she reached the wings and noted the horrified looks of Reggie and Alex, that she realised Luke wasn’t with them.

“He just…” Alex’ foot swiped across the floor where Luke once stood, aghast. “He crossed over.”

They were always selfish loving one another. To fall, to love, to be in love. The inevitable never stopped being inevitable, and yet they trucked on. Maybe they had become cocky, thinking their hearts were stronger that they actually were. It was all too apparent now. Her heart wasn’t this spiritual thing. It wasn’t made of fairy dust and magical ghost powers. It was made of flesh and blood and it was bleeding.

Luke’s never would.

The arena lights dimmed.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

@blush-and-books @willexx @bluefirewrites @ourstarscollided @sophiphi

#i'm sorry #juke #julie and the phantoms #jatp fanfiction #otp: i think we make each other better

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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years

Text

Celebrity crush - Tom Holland

just a little something i thought about today!

word count: 3.1k

masterlist

“So this is how it’s gonna go. We’ll give you two options to choose from, you’ll say who you would rather choose to be your man, we’ll keep him and you’ll get a new face on the other side. Clear?” Ellen explains the game of ‘Who’d you rather’ to you as you nervously sit in the comfortable armchair. You shoot the audience a nervous look nodding your head.

“Sounds cool,” you clear your throat bracing yourself to whatever is about to come.

“Great, let’s see our first candidates!” she announces and you turn to the huge screen behind you when two faces appear next to each other. “We have Liam Hemsworth and Ansel Elgort. Who do you choose?”

“Um, tough start, I’ll go with Liam,” you say nodding to yourself. You’re satisfied with your choice.

“Alright next up we have Liam and…” Ansel’s face disappears and it’s replaced by a photo of Dylan Minnette.” Liam and Dylan!”

“Dylan is a cute guy, but I think I’ll stick with Liam.”

“Okay, Liam stays. Let’s see the next one,” Ellen nods and Dylan’s face is now replaced by Harry Styles. “Oh my! Harry or Liam?”

“Oh definitely Harry,” you say before you could even stop yourself from talking and the audience laughs, but totally agrees with your choice. “Just look at him! And I think you purposely used a picture where he has long hair. That was iconic.”

“He really did have all the looks,” Ellen agrees. “Okay, so we have lost Liam, now we are rolling with Harry. Let’s see the next contestant.”

As the picture changes on the screen your answer comes faster than you could even think about who you want to choose.

“Tom!” you snap immediately as Tom Holland’s photo appears on the big screen and the audience starts clapping at your fast response.

It’s been an open secret in your team that your absolute number one celebrity crush is none other than Spider-Man himself. You’ve seen all of his movies numerous times and on your latest birthday your friends even put a shirtless photo of him to your cake. You obviously didn’t post that one, but it did take a better place in your heart than the other, plain one.

“That was… pretty fast,” Ellen smirks at you and you can feel your cheeks growing warm at how unfiltered you were.

“I’m just a big fan of his,” you tell her, but your face gives you away.

“Who isn’t? Okay, let’s see the next one. Tom or Nick Jonas?”

“Tom,” you say without even giving Nick a second thought.

“Seems like we are picking up the pace of the game. Alright, Tom or… Zac Efron?”

“Tom.”

Ellen laughs at your eagerness to keep Tom, but she keeps going for two more rounds where you keep choosing Tom over Cole Sprouse and Taron Egerton, until his photo finally moves over to the middle as the winner.

“So I guess we have a winner over here. You didn’t seem to be willing to even look at anyone after Tom.”

“I told you, I’m a big fan of his,” you tell her with a shy, but flirty smile as you fix your designer dress and cross your legs.

“Have you—Have you ever met him?”

“Unfortunately not yet, but I’m hoping our paths will eventually cross. I’m a Spidey fan, seen all the movies and he is definitely my favorite so far.”

“What would you tell him if he was here now?”

You are quick to turn around and check he is not creeping his way up to you right now. You can never know what Ellen has in store for you, she is the queen of surprises when it comes to her show.

“He is not here, don’t worry,” she laughs as you sit back with a relieved sigh.

“I had to make sure,” you chuckle. “Anyway, my message to him is that if he ever wants to come and see my show, I can get him a free backstage pass,” you say and then flirtatiously wink at the nearest camera as the audience starts cheering.

“Tom, I hope you’re watching this and you are gonna take the next step. Y/N is waiting for you!” Ellen smirks before moving on with the second part of your interview.

Few days after the taping the interview finally airs and the internet goes crazy over your crush on Tom Holland. Your fans even make memes and montages of the two of you, some of them make you laugh hard when you are scrolling through your feed on your rehearsal.

To be honest, you thought it would be the end of the story, you quickly moved on since you had a sold out show next Saturday and you were in and out of rehearsals in the upcoming days, not even paying a second thought to what went down at the interview.

Saturday afternoon you are sitting at makeup when Rita, your manager walks in with the widest grin on her face you’ve ever seen.

“What’s gotten you so happy?”

“Guess who I just gave three passes to?”

You think to yourself, but don’t really have a valid guess. Unfortunately, Rita doesn’t want to give out the information that easily.

“Okay, if you can’t guess you’ll have to see it yourself. Pay extra attention to the VIP sector on the right tonight,” she hints before walking out.

“Rita! You can’t just not tell me!” you shout after her, but she is gone.

She successfully made you go crazy over who is going to be in the audience tonight, but also made sure no one gives you the info before the start, so you have to see it during the show.

“I fucking hate you,” you growl at her as you stand behind the stage, getting ready to start. The intro is already playing and the hairstylist is finishing up your hair one last time.

“Make sure to put extra effort into the Harder choreo today,” Rita winks at you and you scoff at her. Harder is one of your steamiest songs, and the dance you perform on stage is definitely a hot one where you truly feel like a badass woman in your tight, revealing costume.

The show starts off great, the crowd is going crazy and you are grateful to be with your fans tonight, but your eyes keep wandering over to the side where you are supposed to see the mysterious guest, but the lights are too bright for you to see anything other than pitch black. All lights are dimmed when Harder comes on and the red lights give just the perfect heated atmosphere the song needs. You’re wearing your skintight bodysuit and knee high boots, hair let down as you do your sexy dance with your female dancers in the back. In the middle of the song you go over to the right side where you are supposed to do a short routine on a chair, one of your favorite parts in the whole show. Singing the lines you sit down to the chair that was already waiting for you and just as you open your knees wide your eyes meet a familiar gaze and you almost forget to sing.

Tom Holland is standing in the VIP section with his pass hanging from his neck, he has his two brothers with him, but you pay little attention to them as you keep performing with your eyes glued to his handsome face.

Taking Rita’s advice you make sure the rest of the choreography is as sexy and heated as possible and you occasionally keep glancing in Tom’s direction who seems to be enjoying the show. It gives you the boost to bring the best out of yourself, he is smirking with amusement in his eyes and you catch him say something to his brothers from time to time who just nod in agreement. You’d die to know what his words were, but you can only hope he’ll come backstage after the show and you can ask him yourself.

By the end of the concert you are bursting from energy and this show will definitely be in your top ten for the rest of your life. You’re panting but grinning widely as you run off the stage and do a quick group hug with your dancers, something you never miss after every show as an appreciation and celebration of the good work you just did.

As you head to your dressing room you spot your manager who has a devilish smile on her face and you almost start lashing out on her, but then none other than Tom Holland shows up coming from the arena. You stop in your way as your eyes meet, eyebrows running up on your forehead when you see the big bouquet of flowers in his hands. He gifts you with a soft, shy smile, the one you’ve seen so many times on the big screen, but it’s a thousand times sweeter in real life.

“Hey!” he greets you waving in your way, as if you haven’t seen him. You don’t see anyone else in the room, to be quite honest.

“Hi! I… didn’t know you were coming tonight,” you admit tugging your hair behind your ear and you wish you felt less sweaty and smelly. You can only hope it’s not as bad as you think.

“I took your invitation serious,” he chuckles making you smile.

“I honestly didn’t think you’d ever see that, sorry if it was… too silly or something,” you tell him with a nervous laugh. It wasn’t in your plans to face him so fast after you admitted to the whole world that you have a fat crush on him.

“Well, it was hard not to see it when literally everyone was tagging me in posts about it.” He then realizes the flowers are still in his hands and steps closer. “Oh, I brought these for you. I hope it’s not too big of a cliché, but I wanted to give you something after the show.”

“That’s so sweet, thank you!” you tell him completely touched by the gesture as he hands you the beautiful bouquet. “Did you like the show?” you innocently ask, his look imprinted in your mind as he watched you in awe from the audience.

“It was fantastic! Really, mind-blowing. All the dancing and everything, I didn’t even know where to look.”

“Well, I saw you looking at me pretty often,” you flirt and hope you’re not being too bold. But there’s no way you are wasting this chance with Tom Fucking Holland, your all-time favorite Spider-Man and #ManCrushMonday. Though you haven’t posted about the latter, but you definitely thought about it before.

His cheeks turn red as he laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

“Well, it was hard not to look when you were so breathtaking, to be honest.”

You can’t stop yourself from smiling like a teenage girl at the compliment. Even an idiot could feel that there is in fact something between the two of you and you truly hope he is feeling the same and it’s not just your crush talking from you.

“Hey, you guys should take a picture together,” Harry suggests and you suddenly feel ashamed you haven’t even acknowledged the twins’ presence.

“Oh, yeah, sure! But you guys should come too!” you tell him, but Tom is quick to differ.

“No!” he protests and you give him a surprised look before he corrects himself. “I mean—Let’s take one alone and then with the boys.”

“Okay,” you smile, and judging from the laugh his brothers try to hide you know his reasoning behind it. “I’m sorry if I’m sweaty and all,” you apologize as he stands next to you, curling an arm around your waist while you do the same and hold the flowers with your other arm.

“I think I’m just as sweaty after that show you just put out,” he admits and you can’t hold you laughter back.

Harry takes a few shots of the two of you before he and Sam joins you and a crew member takes a few group photos.

“Well, thank you for coming, I’m glad we got to finally meet,” you tell them, thinking about how you don’t want to part your ways so soon, but you have to start getting ready to leave.

“Me too, it was something to remember forever,” he admits with that same shy smile. “Hey, so I heard the big news that you’ll be performing at the Oscars!”

“Yes, it’s unbelievable! I’m so nervous just thinking about it!” you admit. It’s kind of an understatement, you’ve been practically shitting yourself ever since Rita broke the news for you that you’d be one of the performers at literally one of the biggest events all year.

“Congrats and… I guess we’ll meet in a week then.” The smile on his lips lets you know he is counting on seeing you on another occasion and you are happy he is on the same page as you.

“I guess,” you nod chuckling.

“Would it be too straight forward if I asked for your number maybe? Just to make sure we will meet that night.”

“Strictly for that reason,” you nod with a playful smirk as he hands you his phone and you type your number in quickly.

“I can’t wait to see you again,” he tells you as you hug goodbye to all three of the boys.

“Same here,” you nod before turning around and heading back to your dressing room.

***

The Oscars is just as nerve-wrecking as exciting it is for you. It’s you first time doing such a huge performance and you definitely don’t want to be remembered for giving the worst show of all times. You smile your way through the red carpet even though you could break down in tears any minute. You’ve never felt this nervous before and you don’t like the effect it has on your mindset.

Sitting in your dressing room you are getting ready since your performance is just twenty minutes away. Your glam and outfit is completely done, but you just don’t feel the same in your thoughts.

From a sudden idea you send a text to Tom. It’s been an entire week since the show he attended and he texted you before you could even get back to your dressing room and you’ve been going back and forth ever since. He even FaceTimed you one night and you had a two hours long conversation about the most random things. Tom is easy to talk to and this is exactly how you imagined him. Your crush on him has just grown since you met him in real life. In this moment you feel like he is the person you want to talk to, but you doubt he even has his phone on him.

For your biggest surprise a reply arrives just seconds later.

“I’m on my way to you.”

It takes you a few moments to process that he indeed just left his seat at the Oscars to come and calm your nerves. Just about two minutes later there’s a soft knock on the door and after you call out, Tom appears in his perfectly fitted suit, looking better than ever and for a split second you forget everything and just think about how damn good he looks in a suit. When you return to reality panic sets back in and Tom can see it all in your eyes.

“Hey! Why are you so upset?” he gently asks as he steps closer to you taking your hands in his.

“I’m just so fucking nervous, what if I mess it up?”

“You won’t.”

“How do you know?” you whine, already seeing the worst things happen to you out there.

“I just know. I know, because you are literally the best. No one else deserves more to be here than you, alright? They asked you for a reason.”

“I’m just so scared something goes wrong,” you sigh, head hanging low, but he is quick to lift your chin up and make you look in his eyes.

“Everything will be alright. And if something do happen… I’ll just jump up to the table and pull my pants down so everyone will look at me and forget about what you messed up,” he tells you in an attempt to make you laugh and it works.

“That would be pretty funny.”

“Yeah? Do you want me to do it anyway?” he asks chuckling.

“No, keep your pants up,” you tell him shaking your head.

The door opens and an assistant pops his head inside.

“Y/N, we need to go, you are starting in five.” You nod your head and turn back to Tom.

“Can you come with me?” you ask him.

“Of course! Do you want me to stay at the side and wait for you?” You nod again, still feeling a little lost, but way better than before Tom arrived. “Alright. Let’s go then,” he smiles at you and the two of you walk out hand in hand.

He walks you all the way to the stage where you get your mic and earpiece, telling you encouraging words all along, calming your nerves as if it was his magical power.

“You got this,” he tells you, squeezing your hand one last time before you head out to the stage.

He was right, you got this. The song you performed was an excellent choice and the audience seemed to love the visuals and the dance. You get a standing ovation at the end and you almost start crying right there. You rush off the stage and immediately spot Tom still standing at the same spot you left him, his eyes and smile filled with pride and glory and your legs are just pushing your forward until you are in his arms, holding him tight, squeezing him happily as you squeal joyfully.

You lean back and your eyes move down to his lips the same time his gaze travels down to yours. In just a heartbeat you lean forward and your lips meet in a sweet, victorious kiss you’ve been waiting for so long. You melt into his lips, fingers tangled in his perfectly made hair as his palms lay flat on your bare back where the dress is not covering your shivering skin.

It takes quite some time for the two of you to let go of each other, one of you always goes in for just one more kiss as the backstage is rushing around you, people are running wildly to get everything in place when the show returns after the commercial break. Yet you just stand there with Tom, completely lost in each other.

“I think…” he starts quietly, a smirk hiding in his lips, “I think we owe Ellen a thank you,” he says making you laugh.

“Definitely,” you nod before pressing your lips back to his.

general/forever taglist for Tom Holland

i do separate taglists for different people, but not for different works of mine! if you ask to be on my Tom taglist, you’ll be tagged in all of my Tom fics!

@zaahidahhh @shawn-youth @wildflower-cth @imaginashawnns @haute-shawn @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @cutepenguin1 @madatmendes @harrysleftchelseaboot @sunflower6why

if you’d like to be taken off or added to the list, please let me know!

#tom #holland #tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland oneshot #tom holland blurb #tom holland fluff #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x reader

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mikauzoran · 3 years

Text

Marichat/Lila Fake-Dating/Emotional Blackmail: Betting Against the House: Chapter Six

Read it on AO3: Betting Against the House: Chapter Six: Fidelity

Marinette was so engrossed in her sewing project that Tikki had to inform her that Chat Noir was tapping on her skylight.

“What?” She looked up with a jerk, her stitch going crooked as her hands accidentally moved the material.

“Chat Noir’s here,” Tikki repeated, glancing back up towards the skylight. “Or, he might have just left. I don’t hear him knocking anymore.”

Marinette swore under her breath as she pushed herself up out of the chair and sprang into action, ascending the ladder up to her loft at double her normal speed. She didn’t see him at the window, so she pushed it open and pulled herself up onto her balcony.

He turned around from where he’d been leaning on the balcony railing, taking her in with soft eyes she was more used to seeing as Ladybug.

“Uh…hey,” he greeted, raising a hand tentatively.

“Hey.” She blinked, eyes going to the rose in his other hand. “Is that…?”

She pointed.

He followed her gaze, looking down at his own hand in surprise. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry.”

He lifted the rose, holding it out to her as he timidly advanced. “I think you dropped this—I mean, I know you dropped it. I saw you drop it, but… Did you want it back?”

A cloudy expression set into her face as she stepped forward to take the rose and then stared at it thoughtfully.

It didn’t look like her thoughts were positive ones.

“You don’t have to take it back,” he hurriedly added. “I’ll keep it if you don’t want—”

With a jolt like one suddenly waking in the middle of a dream, Marinette’s gaze whipped around to her right, and she began searching the streets below.

“…Uh… If you’re looking for Adrien Agreste, he’s gone,” Chat informed gently, not all together sure that she was even looking for him in the first place.

Marinette looked back to him in surprise. “He is?”

Chat nodded. “I kind of saw the…er…little scene…between you and him. I was here to see you, and I just happened to catch…whatever that was. Sorry.”

She held up her hands and waved them, seeming to come back fully to the present moment and out of her thoughts. “No, it’s okay. It was…” She winced, biting her lip. “It was nothing. Um… Did you want to come in?”

“May I?” He took a hesitant step forward. “I don’t want to bother you. I heard…” His brow furrowed, and he lowered his voice. “I heard a couple things. Are you feeling okay? I heard you were sick.”

She averted her gaze, her cheeks colouring slightly. “Thanks. Yeah, I’m fine. I’m not actually sick. I just…I kind of feel like crap. I probably look like crap,” she laughed ruefully, glancing down at her sweatpants and baggy t-shirt and touching her hair self-consciously.

“You look cute,” he chuckled. “I dig the messy bun.”

She cracked up at that. “Thanks, but it got that way by accident rather than design. It was a fully-functional, respectable-looking bun earlier before I rolled around and pulled on my hair in grief and messed it up.”

He clicked his tongue, waving away her protests. “You’re rocking it, Princess. Trust me. I know what I’m talking about.”

Her lips settled into a soft smile, and she motioned for him to follow her down into her room. “Come in, Minou. I could use a friendly face. For some reason, today, it feels like everyone’s against me.”

“I promise they’re not really,” he attempted to comfort her as they made their way down into her attic bedroom.

She hummed ambivalently, dropping the rose off at her desk before taking a seat on her chaise and gesturing for him to sit at her feet. “Can I play with your hair? Please?”

“Yeah, sure,” he replied, hoping he didn’t sound too eager as he sat between her knees, his back to her.

They sat in silence for a good minute or two, Marinette running her fingers through his hair to comb it and then separating little strands into sections to braid, before she finally spoke up, mumbling, “…Today kind of sucked.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered a little more balefully than made sense since she didn’t know that he was the chief cause of her strife. “Did you feel like talking about it?”

“No. I mean, yeah, but…” She pursed her lips, shaking her head. “It’s complicated.”

He waited a beat, debating before remarking offhandedly, as if he had no personal stake in the matter, “…I hear that Adrien Agreste is persona non grata around here. Apparently he’s dating that awful Lila girl?”

“Lila freaking Rossi,” Marinette hissed. “I don’t know what the heck is the matter with him. How can he just…? She is worse than awful, Chat Noir. She’s a bully and a liar and—ugh. I don’t even,” she growled. “How can he even stand to let her touch him? He knows what she’s like, and still he…he…” Marinette petered out with another “Ugh!” of frustration.

Chat swallowed hard, guilt wrapping its fingers around his heart and squeezing painfully. “Maybe…Maybe there’s some piece to the puzzle that you’re missing,” he suggested cautiously. “Maybe he has a good reason. Maybe he doesn’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” she pouted sullenly, her temper cooling somewhat. “He could stand up for himself and say no for once. He’s always been like this, Chat Noir. He never wants to cause trouble, and he always avoids confrontation. He’s spineless.”

Chat winced, feeling the jab slide clean between his ribs and puncture a lung.

“He just appeases everyone and lets them walk all over him. It makes me sick sometimes to watch him cave without a word. I don’t know what I ever saw in him, and I don’t know why I put my faith in him,” she muttered bitterly.

“Maybe it’s more complicated than you think,” he offered in a flimsy attempt at self-defence. “I’m sorry he let you down, Marinette. You’re totally within your rights to be angry, but you can’t know what’s going on inside his head. Maybe he has a good reason, and you’ll feel bad later for being so harsh on him.”

“Yeah, maybe.” She blew out a long sigh, dropping her arms from his hair to loosely hang around his neck and resting her head on top of his. “I’m just really hurting right now, Chaton. He was the one person I thought I could count on in my struggle with Lila, so I’m feeling utterly betrayed,” she whimpered. “It’s hard to give him the benefit of the doubt when I can’t imagine any circumstance that would compel him to date her.”

Chat closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe through the aching pain in his chest. It killed him to sit there useless while she was hurting—while he was hurting her. But he couldn’t explain himself. She’d insist that he stop, and then what would have been the point of submitting to Lila’s ever-increasing demands over the years?

He had to see this through to the finish.

“I’m sorry, Princess,” he whispered helplessly. “I wish I could do something to make it better for you. Know that I would do anything to make it better.”

“Well,” she chuckled halfheartedly, trying to lighten the mood. “You could start by not trying to make me behave rationally and think about things from Adrien’s point of view. It would be easier if I could just demonize him and lash out at him with all of my righteous fury.”

“Sorry to take away your scapegoat,” he laughed weakly.

“Yeah,” she teased, giving his hair a little nuzzle. “Whose side are you on, anyway? Mine or his?”

He twisted around to face her, kneeling at her feet and gazing up at her earnestly. “Yours,” he stressed, desperate for her to believe him. “Yours. Always yours, even when it doesn’t feel like it.”

She blinked at him, taken aback by his vehemence.

Slowly, a warm, genuine smile danced across her lips, and she leaned in to brush a delicate kiss against his forehead. “Thank you.”

His heart nearly exploded as she pulled back and smiled down at him with a soft look that made him think that maybe he had a chance after all.

“Yeah. I mean, yeah. Anytime,” he replied dumbly, struggling to get his brain and his mouth to work in concert. “You’re welcome. Always.”

She laughed—a light, airy sound that made his heart soar—and it was obvious from the smug look on her face that she could tell how smitten he was.

He couldn’t bring himself to care. So what if she knew she had him at her mercy? He trusted her with his heart.

“Wanna play video games?” she inquired, breaking him out of his reverie.

He blinked at her, his brain still scrambled from the memory of her lips against his skin.

“If you have time,” she hastened to add, nerves flaring up at his lack of a response. “I mean, I know you’re busy what with saving Paris and regular life stuff, but…if you weren’t doing anything, I was supposed to be hanging out with my friends tonight, only that’s not happening because Adrien is a traitor, so if you wanted to hang out, play some Smash Brothers, have dinner with me and my family, snuggle on the couch and watch movies…? I could use the company,” she confessed.

“Yes to all of the above,” he replied enthusiastically, finally getting a handle on how his mouth functioned again.

Adrien was still floating on cloud nine when he returned home several hours later.

Lila had pressured Adrien into agreeing to come up with a romantic surprise for her in response to Adrien’s claim that Nino had been consulting with Adrien about a surprise for Alya the previous day (since Adrien was, allegedly, so good at that kind of thing), and Adrien did not aim to disappoint.

He escorted Lila to her locker where she found beautiful orange lilies inside.

“Oh, Adrien!” Lila squealed, leaping into his arms and giving his cheek a joyful kiss. “They’re beautiful!”

He couldn’t tell if she were just putting on a show or if she were genuinely pleased with the gift.

She was certainly satisfied with the response of the other students as they cooed and raved about how sweet Adrien was, what a cute couple he and Lila made.

Marinette stood apart from the others, looking on in a mix of resentment and pensiveness.

Adrien wondered if she knew anything about the meanings of flowers. If so, she might know that orange lilies were not a nice gift. Perhaps she was wondering if Adrien knew the implications of the flowers he had given his girlfriend.

She caught him gazing at her and turned away, going to her own locker. Once there, she gave a start, a soft gasp escaping her lips when she spotted the sunflowers, tucked inside and waiting for her with a little note attached.

Adrien’s heartbeat quickened a little at the pleased smile gracing her lips and the rosy blush rising in her cheeks.

Alya was the first to notice Marinette’s surprise and draw the attention of the others.

“What’s this, Girl? A secret admirer?” she trilled excitedly.

“Alya, don’t—” barely made it past Marinette’s lips as Alya swiped the card and read aloud, “‘For my Princess. I hope these sunflowers brighten your day, even though they’re not half as radiant as you are. Much love from your not-so-secret admirer.’”

The girls chattered excitedly all at once, completely forgetting about Lila to join in the speculation about Marinette’s mystery boy.

Lila turned a venomous glare on Adrien, hissing dangerously under her breath, “Your ‘Princess’, is she? You did this on purpose to upstage me, didn’t you?”

Adrien frowned, leveraging all of his acting skills to feign wounded innocence. “Hey, I don’t know why you’re looking at me like that. Those flowers aren’t from me.”

Lila’s eyes narrowed, scanning him intently.

“He’s just a friend,” Marinette insisted over the din of her friends. “Just a close friend that I play video games online with. He’s a total flirt. He’s not even serious. He knows I had a rough day yesterday, and he was just trying to cheer me up.”

The girls didn’t seem to buy Marinette’s story entirely, but her persistent denials seemed to mollify all but Alya.

“Oh, Honey. I think he’s serious, even if you’re not,” Alya hummed skeptically, pitying the poor boy who had fallen for her rather oblivious best friend.

The other girls joined in with sympathetic hums of their own.

Adrien turned to Lila. “I feel like you owe me an apology for your accusations of infidelity.”

“How about not?” Lila growled quietly, shoving her books roughly into Adrien’s arms as she continued to seethe over Marinette inadvertently stealing the spotlight.

The week stretched on with, luckily, only a few minor incidents to mark it.

Marinette continued to hold a grudge against Adrien, but she was more than happy to spend her evenings with Chat Noir.

He was glad that he could help her feel less alone, even if it were just in some small way, and the time he passed with her was a balm for him too.

It was a relief, after dealing with Lila’s ever-increasingly ridiculous demands all day, to cuddle and watch Disney and Studio Ghibli movies with Marinette, to bake cookies together, to play niche video games, or just to sit in her room working on separating things but enjoying the other’s presence.

Nino kept giving Adrien worried glances, looking like he was this close to saying something several times a day.

It made Adrien sick with anxiety.

He shouldn’t have told Nino. It felt like he had the sword of Damocles hanging over his head and never knew when it would drop, when Nino would break his promise and try to tell everyone about Lila, ruining years’ worth of Adrien’s sacrifices and hard work to protect Marinette.

If Nino asked him if he were okay one more time, Adrien was going to cry.

All he could do was lie and say he was fine, all the while knowing that Nino knew he was lying.

“Just don’t say anything to anyone,” Adrien kept repeating, and Nino would nod, assuring, “Yeah. No. I won’t.”

But Adrien could see the way Nino tensed around Lila, how he clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes whenever she invaded Adrien’s personal space or asked him to do things for her.

The week was rough and already wearing Adrien down by the end of it.

He felt sick with guilt over hurting Marinette and sick with fear about when Nino was going to crack and spill the beans. That wasn’t even taking into account the hell Lila was putting him through.

Lila was steadily getting worse. She was growing bolder with her public displays of affection to the point where Adrien was genuinely uncomfortable.

The casual touches and the expectation of cheek kisses had quickly crossed the line. More than anything, he was sick of the sensation of Lila clinging to him. The constant contact and her weight and her warmth made his skin crawl. He couldn’t wait for evening to come so his personal space could be his own again to share (or not share) as he saw fit.

Adrien had always been a little touch-starved, but, now, physical contact was something he found himself recoiling from, sometimes even with Marinette.

On the third day, Lila made Adrien move to the back of the class to sit with her, and it was torture to be separated from his friends. Classes had been a brief reprieve from Lila’s presence, an oasis where he didn’t have to think about her for hours at a time, but, now, even that solace was stolen from him.

He missed passing notes with Nino and the little sweets his best friend would often share.

Adrien had considered it a victory when, the previous year, he’d convinced his father to allow him to eat lunch at school with his friends. Now, he found himself wishing he could go home for lunch again because Lila had gotten it into her head that she needed to sit on Adrien’s lap and that they needed to feed one another to show what a lovey-dovey couple they were.

Adrien was quickly finding that he had little appetite during the day. He scarfed down leftover baked goods from Tom and Sabine’s as well as whatever the Dupain-Chengs had for dinner in the evenings when he visited Marinette, but he couldn’t keep much down during the day.

The smell of Lila’s cloyingly sweet floral perfume made him feel nauseated.

He wasn’t sure how much more he could take, but he was certain that something had to give, and soon.

He was afraid it was going to be him.

Adrien was at his breaking point, so maybe that’s why, when Ladybug asked what was wrong that Sunday on patrol, he gave in so easily and spilled his guts to her.

#Marichat #Adrinette #Adrienette #Lady Noir #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Adrien Agreste #Chat Noir #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Lila Rossi #Hurt/Comfort #Fluff #Angst #Happy Ending #Fake Dating #Emotional Blackmail #Mikau's Writings #Betting Against the House

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