#slow dance

countdown to jimin’s return

cw: marceline x f!reader, tooth-rotting fluff, wlw

You wake to the sound of gentle snoring beside you, a leg tangled with your own. Marceline lies there, jet-black hair messy and long, twisting with every slow turn she makes in her sleep. You watch her breathe, soft and steady. You know she’s probably writing verses in her dreams—she always does. She writes until her fingers ache, trying to verbalize every emotion she can’t bear to hold in silence. It’s her way of being vulnerable. Her way of trapping the feelings she fears will fade.

The room is dark, except for the soft glow of candles scattered around—puddles of amber light pooling across the floor and sheets. You sit up, careful not to disturb her, and pad quietly to the kitchen. You brew the kettle, steam curling upward in thin ribbons, and prepare black tea with a splash of honey. Just how she likes it.

You reach into the fridge and take out raspberries, hands gentle as you crush them for jam. That’s when you feel her head on your shoulder.

She exhales, voice still hushed by sleep.

“Good morning.”

Then she leans in and licks a streak of tart raspberry juice from your cheek—slow, lazy, like a cat tasting sunlight.

Half an hour later, while the jam rests, you find her sitting on the living room floor. Her bass is nestled in her lap, fingers gliding across the strings. The notes she strums are soft, half-formed, her breath ghosting your name in small spills of sound.

“Marcy,” you murmur, settling beside her.

She offers a half smile—just the barest twitch at the corners of her lips.

“My muse.”

Heat blooms along your cheeks. You look away, embarrassed, and she tucks her chin down toward the neck of her bass.

“Sing this verse with me,” she says.

You laugh under your breath. “Yeah right. I’ll puncture everyone’s eardrums.”

She shakes her head, amusement warming her features. “Just sing with me.” She shifts closer, eyes soft and open. “I want to share this with you.”

You pause, inhale.

“Okay.”

She begins. The beat is slow at first, patient, like dawn stretching into the sky. Her voice drips smooth as honey and milk.

“I just wanna slow dance with you…”

You follow her rhythm, tasting each word as it leaves your mouth. The space between you tightens. Your lips brush mid-lyric. Her hands slip from the bass, forgetting the strings entirely, fingertips threading into your hair like she’s been thinking about it all morning. Like she’ll forget every song she’s ever written if she doesn’t touch you right now.

Reasons for characters to slow dance :

(girly lemme help u)

because dancing is their love language.

because their favorite song is playing. even it's in the middle of a supermarket.

maybe cus their partner is looking absolutely adorable in the kitchen at 3 in the morning baking cookies and humming to their favorite song?

at candle light dinners. [what else are lovers supposed to do?]

at a stay-at-home date night.

under the rain.

during sunsets just because the light is hitting their s/o in a beautiful way.

in a party, away from all the chaos, in their own lil bubble.

slow dancing just to hold them close. duh.

while getting ready in the dressing room. not slow dancing, but u get the vibe. blasting a TS song. [very cutesy.]

after tying da knottt [very mindful]

in the middle of the road, infront of ur car's headlight. while music plays from inside the car.

cause u have just moved in together, the house is empty and yall are so in love.

at prom, at anniversaries, birthdays, balls and parties.

slowing dancing with their parents?! on a memorable day/event.