Can You Please Write A Fluff One Shot About A Sk8 The Infinity Like His Girlfriend/boyfriend/s/o Falls

🥺🥺

Can you please write a fluff one shot about a sk8 the infinity like his girlfriend/boyfriend/s/o falls asleep on him

to anon: omg first request omgomg thank you so much for sending one in! i wasn’t sure which sk8 character you were referring to, so i decided to write one for both reki and langa! hope you don’t mind hehe <3 this is the one for reki, the one for langa will take a little bit longer bc of valentine’s & other requests but i hope you like this one regardless!

warnings: none, just some fluffy times with the best boy. reader is gn!

word count: 1.3k

sleepyhead. (reki x reader)

Late nights were certainly not a rare occurrence with your boyfriend, Reki. He was filled to the brim with energy and passion that practically flowed out of him like a geyser. Not that you were opposed to that at all, you found that it was one of the qualities that made you fall for him in the first place. Though, you worried that he wasn’t taking into consideration his own personal health during these late night excursions. Take for instance tonight, as it was slowly approaching two thirty am, it seemed that the redhead had no clear intention of stopping his work.

The two of you were cooped up in his workshop behind his house, Reki singing along to some “cool jams” as he called them. In reality, it was his Spotify playlist of the “best 2000’s alternative” music like Sk8er Boi by Avril Lavigne and Dear Maria, Count Me In by All Time Low. You were barely hanging onto your string of consciousness, the mere idea of sleep sounding like absolute heaven at this very moment. You were propped up on a stool in the corner, the stack of skating magazines Reki had given you to flick through in case you got bored now sat in a neat pile off to the side. You had read each one of them front to back twice already tonight.

It wasn’t that you didn’t love spending time with Reki. You enjoyed listening to his midnight ramblings of whatever came to mind. His ideas for new boards, designs for stickers, and other creative ways to beat his future S opponents were usually his topics of interest. No one really noticed how much of an imaginative person your boyfriend was. He could be impulsive and over excited at times, but his fantastic mind and his willingness to create made your heart soar. Not only that, but he was fairly handy when it came to fixing up and assembling his own boards like he was some mad scientist waiting for one of his many experiments to go right. You indulged him as much as you could, you really did enjoy his company. Even if you would much rather be curled up beside him snuggling in bed rather than hear Reki precariously make his way through the lyrics of Check Yes Juliet for what seemed like the seventh time.

“Reki,” you spoke up finally as the analog clock on the wall indicated the current time of two forty-three am. Reki looked up from Langa’s custom longboard, hair bouncing about despite already being contained by the headband he wore everyday. “Yeah?” he asked, throwing a glance over his shoulder only to see your weary eyelids and tired expression. His entire demeanour melted, lips jutted out in a tiny pout upon seeing his poor baby so tired.

He backed away from his worktable, dancing and tiptoeing across the floor to avoid stepping on any spare parts or tools he had left lying about his mishmash of a workshop.

“Is baby tired?” he cooed, sawdusted fingers beginning to tug and pinch at the corners of your cheeks. You groaned in annoyance, your sleep deprived state causing you to be a tad more irritable at this hour. “Reki,” you repeated in a more serious tone, ember coloured irises meeting your e/c ones. His calloused hands moved to cup your face, warmth enveloping you in a way that felt like home. The scent of pine and the remnants of orange crush soda invaded your senses. He smiled at you with that goofy face of his, the one that Langa constantly teased for being weird. Maybe it was your sleepy nature, but he looked even more gorgeous in the harsh LED lighting of his garage. Tiny strands of his auburn hair fell in front of his face as he tilted his head to the side, his smile growing as he watched your eyes begin to droop.

“Please. Let’s go to bed,” you asked of him as kindly yet firmly as you could. Reki clicked his tongue a bit, thinking for a moment before delivering a cute peck to your nose. “A few more minutes! Then we can head inside, grab a cookie or two and crawl into bed together! It’ll be just a jiffy okay? Here, you can even set an alarm,” Reki was already reaching for his phone in his hoodie pocket so that you could do just as he suggested. He stopped in his tracks as he felt your hands clasp around his hoodie, pulling him close so that you could hug his torso. He laughed at how clingy you could be while being so sleepy, his hand patting atop your head as a form of affection.

“Wow, you really are.. sleeping,” Reki’s voice trailed off as he looked down to be greeted by you completely passed out against him. Your arms held your boyfriend close, your face buried within the fabric of his yellow skater boy hoodie. Soft snores escaped you, your breathing slowed and calm as you finally let your consciousness slip out of your ever fleeting grasp. Reki’s face began to bloom with colour the longer he stared at you, panic setting in as he realized what was truly happening.

You had fallen asleep against him. Oh shit. Oh god. You were asleep against him. That meant you were so comfortable that you just so happened to pass out in his arms. Reki bit back a giddy smile, warmth cascading through him in a form of nothing but love radiating solely for you at nearly three in the morning. His heart thumped rapidly against his rib cage. No matter how long he had been with you, he kept discovering new things about you that made him absolutely lose his mind. You falling asleep against him definitely being one of those many things. You looked so peaceful, so unbothered and safe within his embrace. This warmth you had given him overtook his will to keep working, his hands moving your hair out of the way of your face to kiss your forehead.

“Sorry for making you stay up, sweet baby,” he apologized in a quiet tone. His hands moved your arms to around his neck, using his strength to lift you up and wrap your legs securely around his waist. “I can’t say I’m not grateful for you being here for me, though. You could have left too, yet you stayed here for me,” Reki spoke to your sleeping form. The fact that you had stayed up with him this late made him even more grateful to have you. Reki grunted a bit as he adjusted to the newfound weight of you around him, your hair getting in his mouth and his eyes squinting to find the light switch so that he could flick it off before leaving. Reki was always careful with you, handling you as if you were a sort of glass figurine he barely even had the permission to touch.

“You look so damn cute like this, y’know,” he continued to speak as he maneuvered his way about his house, trying his best to subdue his footsteps and make as little noise as possible. He didn’t want to wake up his mom or little sisters. “Man, I’m so lucky. Seriously really lucky to have someone like you in my life.”

In your sleep, you subconsciously nuzzled your head against his chest. He melted a bit, holding back a tiny noise of happiness as he began to beam like an idiot holding his partner. You were the most amazing person, the person who made him happy every single day without fail, the person who picked him up no matter how much he bailed or got hurt. He loved you more than anything, and he wanted to treat you as well as you treated him. Even if it meant carrying you to bed after a late night of him talking your ear off about skateboarding for three consecutive hours.

all works © denkamis 2021.

tags:

@meilbox

wanna be on the taglist? see this post!

🥺🥺🥺

aot men as feelings/memories.

Part One

Eren is the feeling of sitting on the roof of your old high school. Trying to hide when you see police lights in the distance, knowing they were intended for the two of you. Climbing down the ladder after Eren, his hands wrap around your body to carry you down the last few rungs of the ladder because they were getting closer. Holding hands as you run through the shortcut you each knew well that went through the woods behind the school. Stopping momentarily to kiss deeply, pulling away, panting and laughing.

Eren is sneaking out of your window, knowing damn well your parents would kill you if they knew you had left in the middle of the night but not caring because any punishment was worth just one minute with Eren.

Eren is a bar fight that results in him getting arrested, beating the hell out of some creep that kept touching you. He kisses you as he is put into the back of the police car, a smile across his face and a wink before they slam the car door.

Eren is crying in your arms about how much he loves you. How he’s never felt this way. How he can’t ever lose you. How you were made to love one another.

Eren is asking you to marry him with a candy ring. It seems like a joke. But he means it. God, does he mean it. “I’m a fuck up. I don’t do the right thing. I don’t know what I’m doing. But I know whatever it is, I want to do it with you. I want this forever. Marry me. I mean it. Marry me.”

Eren is dumb decisions. Danger. Tears and fights. Sleepless nights full of skin on skin. Jealousy. Deep, passionate love. Love preserved only for soulmates.

Eren is marriage at a young age.

Eren is a marriage that lasts forever.

Armin is the feeling of stopping off on the side of the road because you saw a field of horses on a long road trip and begged him to stop so you could pet the one horse that was close to the fence by the road.

Armin is a soft whisper of an apology after a fight.

Armin is constant reassurance of, “you’re so beautiful.” “you’re all i want. forever.”

Armin is gushing about you when you’re not around. Talking about everything he loves about you. Comments like “oh yeah, that’s y/n’s favorite-”

Armin is soft prayers at night of “I don’t know if there’s anyone up there. Or if anyone’s listening, but let me have her forever. Please. Don’t ever take her away from me. I’ll do anything.”

Armin is taking pictures of you in a field of pretty flowers in your favorite dress.

Armin is the unbelievable, overwhelming feeling of “I’m going to spend the rest of my life with her.” as he watches you twirl around in the bright sunflowers, your beauty outshining it all.

Armin is gentle love. Constant Public Displays of Affection. Quick, sweet pecks against your forehead. Kisses littered across your face accompanied by a plethora of “I love you’s!”

Levi is the feeling of late night drinks on a rooftop bar in the city. The city skyline is twinkling just as the stars above, one arm wrapped around your waist and holding the railing as you look out past the buildings, head rested on the shoulder of the man you loved the most.

Levi is not having to pump gas yourself since you first started this relationship. Whether you were driving or not, it didn’t matter. He was far too insistent and you gave up arguing with the gesture.

Levi is low hums as he folds the laundry, bringing the freshly washed and still warm blanket to you in the other room where you were doing work, wrapping it around your shoulders before placing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

Levi is deep, passionate kisses while doing the most random of tasks, leaving you breathless before he walks away as if it was just an innocent act.

Levi is picking you up from your spot on the couch and carrying you to bed after falling asleep halfway through a movie you promised you wouldn’t fall asleep during because, “Baby, I’m not even that tired. I promise.”

Levi is a hand on your thigh every time you’re in the car. Even if you’re in the middle of an argument. Even when you tell him to fuck off.

Levi is an arm instinctively thrown out across your chest to push you back against the seat when “some fucking moron” pulls out in front of him, causing him to slam on the brakes.

Levi is feeling secure every second of being with him.

Levi is knowing you have someone who would not hesitate to kill and die for you.

Levi is tears slowly forming and spilling over to streak his face as he looks up to see you walking towards him at the end of the aisle as he stands at the altar. Walking towards the rest of your life.

Jean is the feeling of hugs from behind and a cheesy greeting of hands over your eyes and a “Guess who!”

Jean is texts of “Have you eaten?” “Do you need anything?” “i’m proud of you.”

Jean is unexpected small gifts because “I saw this at the store and it reminded me of you.”

Jean is flowers on a random Tuesday because “it’s been two weeks since I got you flowers, I’m slacking.”

Jean is dancing in the rain.

Jean is being parked on a cliff above the city just like in the movies, sitting on the hood of the car as you listen to whatever new indie artist he liked.

Jean is the first time “i love you” is uttered as you share two ear buds, holding hands as you lay upon the same car hood, staring up at the sky. His eyes filling with tears as he turned his face to the side, watching you as you close your eyes, gradually letting the music invade all of your thoughts before he spoke up, ripping you from your trance. “I’m so in love with you.”

Jean is going out with friends and never once making you feel bad when you ask to go home a bit earlier than expected, an immediate “Okay, baby. Let’s head out.”

Jean is wanting to grow together, experiencing every milestone together.

Jean is applying to the same schools as you after graduating. Opening your letters at the same time, both of you accepted, jumping up and down with the biggest of smiles, kissing as he congratulates you, “We’re going to take on the world together, baby. This is the start of forever.”

Jean is crossing the stage with you as you now graduate college together. Ready to walk through life hand in hand. Just like he promised four years ago; forever.

Connie is the feeling of a late night swim in the ocean. Waves freezing and beating against your torsos. Splashing water and squealing each time you felt the cold drops come your way.

Connie is body shaking laughter, tears streaming down your face, hardly a sound coming from your throat. Adding onto each other’s scenarios to make it funnier and funnier.

Connie is 3am drives to grab food at a drive thru before coming home and watching food competition shows where he swears he “could cook better than those amateurs. How do you forget the fondant?!! Idiots!”

Connie is inviting everyone you know over the second you buy your new home together, a huge family dinner, looking around at all of the people you now consider family. Thinking, if you could freeze any moment and live it over again for the rest of your life, it would be this. It would be Sasha and Mikasa helping you set the table. Eren and Jean teasing Connie about “You let her talk you into a rock that big? Damn, Connie, you’re down bad.” as Sasha and Mikasa told them to shut up, that your new engagement ring was worth more than their entire existence.

Connie is never a dull moment. Connie is spontaneity. Connie is new adventures the second you say “I wanna go here”.

i genuinely believe that if they announced a remake of ouran high school host club it would break the internet

They're the original found family!😌💙❤💛

It’s called fashion, twerp. Look it up

[SPEED PAINT]

✦ᵗʷᶤᵗᵗᵉʳ ✦ᶤᶰˢᵗᵃᵍʳᵃᵐ ✦ʸᵒᵘᵗᵘᵇᵉ ✦ ᵏᵒᶠᶤ

UNDERRATED THIS WAS SO GOOD OMFG lowkey made me mad tho bc i want what they have LMAOOO /lh

Kissed by Moonlight: Jean Kirschtein x Reader

My first AoT fic for the love of my life <3 Will there be more? Likely--but almost exclusively of him!

-

Jean Kirschtein x female Reader

-

Modern AU, Jean and Reader live in a cliff beachside town, childhood best friends to lovers, fluff, pining, confession, first kiss

-

Reader and Jean are early college, aged roughly 18-20

-

It’s 3 a.m. and you’re nowhere close to sleeping when your best friend texts you.

Are you awake?

Your eyes focus on his name headlining the top of your screen. You supposed you should have his contact saved under a nickname, or with emojis, or something indicative of your friendship. But not even his last name appears; it’s just Jean, in standard silver letters, but some part of that makes it more romantic, you think, a wonderful familiarity lost in the simplicity. No need to put on airs with him, no need to pretend your relationship is supposed to be quirky or perfect. Pretentious never suited him.

Of course I am, you type back. Your fingers felt like they might bleed with the weight. I always am when I think of you.

But you back off; you delete the words before your foolish, lovesick heart can get too carried away. If he saw your typing bubble, he doesn’t indicate; his own bubble pops up, sending a caring message within a few seconds.

Because if you’re not, don’t worry about it. Go back to sleep.

A string tugs around your heart and pulls it into your stomach.

I’m awake.

As soon as you hit send he calls you, his handsome face lighting up the pitch black of your phone screen. He wasn’t even aware of this picture of him, you’re pretty sure. His eyes are closed and his head is thrown back, smiling, laughing at a joke Connie made; his face is colored by the orange and pink and yellow of a dying sun, too lost in his own world to realize the beauty that he brought to yours.

While others had embarrassing pictures of their friends sleeping or in ridiculous filters as their contact photos, you weren’t ashamed of this one. He was a serious boy, always under so much stress; he second-guessed himself when he didn’t need to, brilliant brain trapped under so many questions and doubts. It was nice to have a reminder of him smiling, his heart unbound and carefree, if only for you to enjoy.

You admired it a moment more before swiping to accept the call, nestling the phone against your ear. “Hey, J.”

Despite your insomnia, your voice was still rusty. He noticed instantly, clucking his tongue to take on that mother hen tone he so often directed at Connie and Sasha whenever they were doing something dumb. “You said you were awake.”

“I am!”

“Don’t sound like it.”

You sighed, rolling onto your side to nuzzle deeper into your pillow. Sometimes, if you strained really hard, you could make it smell like him. “Well, then I don’t know how else to convince you I am.”

He hummed, dropping the tone. “Sorry. I just worry about you.” The string tightened. “Bad night?”

Not now. Not since I’m talking to you. “No, just...there’s a lot on my mind.” It wasn’t a lie. There always was when it came to him.

“I’m with you on that.” He yawned, and even through the speaker you heard the adorable miniscule moans playing from his throat. “I think I can help.”

“Why are you lecturing me when you’re also awake?” you teased, cut off by his curt laugh.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be there in 5.” Just as you nearly hung up, he hastily tagged on, “And give me back my Scouts sweatshirt. You’ve had it for long enough.”

“No promises.”

“Do--”

An elephant never forgets, you thought as you hung up, slamming the phone back down onto your blankets. Running your hands down your face, through your hair, trying to make it look presentable, only to be left needy and frustrated instead. It wasn’t the first time you had stayed up late together, messy with wet hair and soft skin. The friend group had a habit of staying up late with sleepovers and videochatting--and even you and Jean, alone, when Connie and Sasha had passed out after their soda hauls. Like the total Dad friend he was, he made sure everyone else was out before he fell asleep--even lulling your insomniac self into the great beyond with a hand in your hair and gentle words. Sometimes you wondered if even that were a dream, cruel memories implanted by your brain due to intricate fantasies you wove for comfort, but even if they were, they helped calm your heart and rest your mind.

Pulling the covers back was a cruel awakening; the night air was chilling against your skin, goosebumps rising over the ridges of your legs. With a sigh you pulled on some leggings and your shoes, rifling through your closet for his coveted lacrosse sweatshirt. There was good reason as to why it was his favorite, and why you stole it so often. It was thick and cushiony, nearly waterproof, with the wings emblem printed on the front and his last name stitched across the back of the shoulders, warm and cuddly.

For some reason, having Kirschtein embroidered across your back filled you with a sense of security and warmed you to the furthest corners of your heart.

Lights flashed outside your window, and careful to keep your housemates sleeping you opened the screen and snuck out, shimmying down the pipe drain and landing on your feet outside the house. You dashed over to his car and he’s there to greet you, throwing open your door from the inside.

“Hey,” you whispered as soon as you got in, brushing back your hair flyaways from the wind.

Jean leaned over to hug you, keeping his right hand on the wheel while his left arm crossed his body, tucking you close against his neck. His stubbled chin brushed against your forehead. “You came,” he said, releasing you, as if nestled right in the crook of his shoulder wasn’t the most peaceful place on earth.

“We were on the phone less than five minutes ago,” you said, crossing your arms indignantly. “You think I’d ditch you like that?”

“Mmm, maybe, princess.” He flicked your nose before shifting the car back into drive. “You do have a history of flaking on me.”

“That was once, and I had just come back from surgery,” you sputtered, clicking your seatbelt. “I’m sorry I was knocked out and couldn’t answer your text.”

“Yeah, you should be.”

Impossible boy, but damn if you didn’t love him.

Jean cleared his throat as he pulled out of the driveway. You tried to ignore the way his arm rested behind your seat as he looked behind him, ever so cautious, calculating, and caring.

“Where are we going?” you asked, trying to focus on the lights spearing the darkness of night.

“The beach,” he replied, switching on his high-beams. “It’s somewhere I go for peace and quiet. Figured it might work for you, too.”

When he rested his hand on the gearshift, large and tantalizingly warm, it took everything in you not to grab it. He might not even notice, and if he did, would he think much of it? Physical affection was rife in your friend group, from Connie swinging his arms around to Sasha giving headpats for even the tiniest achievements. More than once since childhood you’ve fallen asleep in someone’s arms or had someone’s head in your lap while watching a movie. But in the last year there was an electric charge between you and him, a tension not unwelcome between every glance, as if every almost-touch was worth more than gold; his skin would feel wonderful, but oh, it was that almost-touch, fingertips ghosting over knuckles and lips skimming cheeks, that intoxicated you, made you so desperate for him.

“That sounds nice,” you choked out, giving way to the temptation of his hand so close to your leg. You rest yours on top of his, feather-light dragging against the skin. “Thank you.”

Jean swallowed, but gave you a smile, flipping his hand to cage yours underneath his, molding it against the knob of his gearshift. After that he kept his eyes on the road, but it gave you a pass to stare at him, how the moonlight illuminated his features.

The sweet smell of a barbershop filled the air, mingling with the salty spray from the cliffside ocean just to your left. It led you to examine his hair--swept back underneath his backwards baseball cap, his undercut fresh and fuzzy beneath. Where could he have gotten his hair cut at 3 a.m.? He’d likely never tell you, and you’d likely never know, but that was his little mystery to contain, just as you had your own.

Light glinted off the black studs in his ears and the silver chain hooked around his neck. A devil in the details but an angel in this car. Why was he so dressed up so late at night, when you were still in your pajamas? Had he even gone to bed?

Like a good boy he kept his eyes on the road, the only communication when he squeezed your hand when he used it to change gears. He swore he’d teach you how to drive his car one day, but you sensed he liked the control it gave him. He was competitive, if those detention slips and fistfights with Eren taught you anything. He liked being in the know.

Plus, not just anyone drove his car.

Tension mounted until you thought it would break, snapping like steel, but before it could he was smoothing the car to a stop and shifting your hand into park. Ever the gentleman, he got out first and hopped over the hood to your side, opening it with ease. The absence of his hand on yours was sobering, but then he extended it again to help you out of the car, reviving the butterflies, and held it as he led you to the front.

“This ground’s uneven,” he muttered, like it could excuse his actions. “Don’t trip.”

A fall off this cliff would mean certain death, so it was nice he cared. “So considerate,” you whispered, only met with his scoff.

“Yeah, well, if I didn’t have you, then I would be stuck with Connie and Sasha alone,” he moaned. “And don’t get me wrong, I love them to death, but sometimes I need peace and quiet, and you provide that for me. So no, I don’t want you tripping over your own ass and falling off a cliff.”

He flexed his hand so you could feel his strength. A rush washed over you. He trusted himself to keep you safe, and you trusted him, so much that if you had to choose him or the sun, you’d bask in his warmth every single day.

“Thanks. That means a lot.” It was the quietest mumble, but he heard it, deftly running his thumb over your knuckles before pulling away.

By now you were both comfortably settled against the hood of his car, facing the horizon over the edge of the cliff. A familiar spot, though tucked away and hidden from sight of most roads, but stunning, worth the seclusion for the moonrise it allowed you to see. Darkness faded in the light of the moon, bright though crescented, stitched among a canvas of stars above an azure blue sea, stretching out to the end of the world. Almost its own proper working galaxy, a private show from the cosmos that Jean wanted to share with you. At this elevation, you felt like you could reach out and wrap a star in your palm.

If he came here often to think...did this somehow remind him of you?

“This is…perfect,” you said, all air stolen from your lungs at the sight before you. He had somehow both caused and cured your insomnia.

Unbeknownst to you, his gaze lingered on your face, memorizing how wide your smile was, how your features were awash in moonlight, glazed in silver and dripping with saline. And to think he had caused it, he had done something as simple as driving you to a new spot had caused you so much happiness, tugged his stomach in a funny type of way.

“I wanted to share this with you,” he admitted. “I thought it might help.”

“Oh, Jean.” You turned to him, eyes aglow with candelight. “Thank you.”

Just the way you said his name sent a sharp feeling digging into his sides, satisfying, like reaching an itch he couldn’t quite scratch. A million thoughts leapt from his brain onto his tongue--You’re beautiful, I want you, I love you--but he swallowed them down like medicine, letting them burn like lead. If you didn’t feel the same, it would ruin a beautiful moment. He couldn’t do that to you. Not on this night. Not in this special place.

“You’re shivering,” he whispered, and he took off his outer shirt, a button-down one size too big that acted like a jacket over his henley tee, to drape loosely around your shoulders. He liked to layer his outfits; they were like barriers to his heart, yet he shed these layers to keep you warm, to keep you close to him.

“We can share the warmth,” you offered, tilting closer until your head rested against his shoulder and you could feel the nervous breath stuttering in his lungs.

He allowed his eyes to drift down your body, settling on the team logo emblazoned on your chest. The sweater was much too big on you, made for his broad shoulders and not your frame, but it suited you. He smirked, wrapping an arm around your waist, keeping you close--even sitting sedentary, the cliff worried him.

“You’re wearing my sweatshirt.”

“Yep.” You slide the sleeves over your hands, cushioning them to slap at him playfully.

He laughed, dodging your attacks but nimbly grabbing your wrists by the joint. “I’m not getting it back, am I,” he said, more of a defeated statement of fact than a question.

You giggled, and facing him from this angle, it’s like you were wearing the moon as a tiara. “Not unless you wanna see what’s underneath.”

Jean blinked, careful not to betray his surprise, “You’re saucy for three in the morning. What’s gotten into you?”

The playfulness in your core dies down, replaced with that familiar gnawing whenever his skin brushed yours. “Couldn’t sleep,” you shrugged.

When you shimmied your hips, Jean lifted you by the waist and helped you sit on the hood. He leaned back, using his hands to support himself, and despite your new elevation, he stood, all six-foot-two of him, towering over you. You balled your fists, pretending the sight didn’t make your knees weak.

“You know if you can’t sleep, you can always call me, right?” he asked carefully, keeping his eyes on the horizon.

“I don’t wanna bother you. You deserve to sleep, too.”

“You’re more important to me than that.” A hasty swallow, a breathy laugh. “Besides, everyone thinks I’m a big grump anyways, so it only adds to my image.”

“They only think that because you let them,” you said. “Why don’t you let people in? Why don’t you let them see what I see?”

He turned, hazel eyes charged with energy from the night sky. “What do you see, princess?”

“I see my best friend! I see the boy I grew up with now turned into a man, a man with his own morals and sense of truth and loyalty, who would never, ever leave me behind. I see a man too smart for his own good, someone who is capable and strong but doubts himself!” You’re out of breath, but the words just keep tumbling out. “I see a leader, a go-getter, someone honest and compassionate and true, who would die before he lets his friends down. That’s who I see, Jean, I see you as the man I fell in love with and I have no idea where I would be without you in my life.”

Somehow your hands had become entangled around his shoulders, pressing hot against his neck before sliding up his jaw to cup his cheeks, making him look at you shining with tears and love and moonlight. It spilled out of you like water, though your eyes were dry.

And that’s when something funny happened. He looked like he had just been punched in the gut because he had--you made him feel weak, stabbed right through the chink in the armor he so tightly fastened around his heart, but instead of deflating at the intrusion, he blossomed; with you his heart swelled till it burst, showering you in love and adoration and something shining brighter than the moon watching above your heads.

“I thought I’d never hear you say those words,” he gasped, laughing as he leaned his forehead down into yours. “I really--I didn’t--”

“Say what words?” you asked innocently, needing, bleeding, to hear him say it back.

“I love you. Oh my God, I love you so much, come here.”

Jean pulled you close on the hood and kissed you, so dizzying that it was a bit concerning, considering you two were perched on a cliff, but at that moment it didn’t matter; the moon could have dropped out of orbit, the world could have collapsed, you could have fallen from the sky and it wouldn’t have mattered, not as long as his lips were on yours.

He was warm in the cool night air, frenzied as you two fought with and against each other. It was less of a dance and more of a battle as all the tension from all those years rushed from one and into the other. It was all grabbing hands and knocking teeth and clawing fingers; you knocked off his cap as you tangled in his ash brown hair, and he nearly picked you up with how hard he was holding your waist.

Then, when common sense burrowed itself back into his brain, he leaned away, tongue severing the thin string of saliva tethering you. His absence drew a whimper from you as you struggled to open your eyes, so lost and drunk on this feeling, the feeling of finally and forever.

“Jean…” you whined, but he gently shushed you, trailing his thumb over your chin and swiping against your bottom lip before coming up to your cheekbone and caressing the soft skin.

What kind of man was he, kissing the girl he loved for the first time like a random hook-up at a party?

No, you were worth more than that, and you deserved more than that. He was a romantic, and you were his princess; he had to be gentle with you, soft, now that he held your heart in his hands.

“Most beautiful girl in the world,” he hummed, lightly pressing his lips below your ear, met with goosebumps flooding down your skin. “Let me give you a proper kiss.”

And he did. It was good and proper, sweet yet still feisty--this was more like the waltz you had envisioned sharing with him. In this one soft kiss, he let out every sensitive emotion, cupping your face in his hands as if it were glass, drinking from your lips as if you were a fountain that would never ever run dry.

Soft sighs and sounds escaped your diaphragm as you melted in his hands. You ran your fingers gingerly across his well-muscled biceps, dipping onto his chest, before settling contendly at his waist. Caressing him softly, you laved all the love you could into him, like he was the prize you deserved after a hard-fought life.

This was the I love you kiss.

Jean pulled away with a whisper of your name, dropping another kiss to your forehead before wrapping you up in a suffocating hug. “It feels so good to hold you like this,” he cooed, “in my arms, against my chest. Like...like I’ve always dreamed.” He perched his head on top of yours, humming, stroking up and down your back. “If I could stay right here with you forever, I would.”

“We can.”

“But finals…”

You hushed him with another kiss, one that had him laughing and blushing against your lips.

“Okay,” he grinned. “No finals talk. Not tonight.”

He squeezed you closer as the wind blew harder--the one downside of living on a cliffside beach--and you nosed along his neck. “Are you cold?”

Despite his shaking head, you squirmed out of his embrace and began peeling off the shirt he had given you, but he gently stopped your hands, intertwining them with his.

“Keep it. You look good wearing my clothes,” he said, to which you had a physical reaction to his sincerity.

“Aww, you’re blushing like a rose.” He leaned down and pecked the space between your eyes. “Don’t be embarrassed. ‘S cute, princess.”

“Gonna keep calling me that?”

“Mmmhm.” He kissed the tip of your nose, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips. “Because you’re my pretty little flower, my princess. For as long as you’ll have me.”

“That will be a very long time, my love.”

This cliff high above the waves was made for childhood friends, for the lovers who always knew but couldn’t act, for the breathless and wild, for the safe and secure, a place to talk and dream and adore in the other’s arms, kissed by moonlight and blessed by the stars.

-

Kofi