#my heart did a somersault. not kidding

[balletfilmss]

LOVERS LAKE

✸ pairing : luke castellan x fem!reader

✸ synopsis: you & luke escape to the lake and away from counselor duties!

✸ warnings: pre-tlt, established relationship, kissing, me believing whole heartedly that i can fix him

✸ authors’s note: ignoring that it’s literally christmas & this is so summer-coded, charlie bushnell brought back my original series luke obsession so here you go 🙈

the lake was arguably the best place to be at camp half-blood, even for someone who hated the water and was all but dragged their by somebody else who loved it.

that someone was you, and the somebody else was luke.

that boy loved swimming in the lake like the stars love sitting in the sky, and the only thing that made it better was when you were there with him.

between knowing that fact and the pleading look in his pretty puppy eyes, how could you say no?

so now you and him were in the lake together, on a rare escape from your responsibilities as counselors during rec time. you may or may not have been hiding from your campers by staying hidden by the boathouse that stored the camp’s supply of canoes.

you were clinging onto the wooden dock while your boyfriend swam about, still putting on your angry facade at him after he threw you in the water initially.

was the way he scooped you up in his big strong arms and grinned like a little kid when he jumped in with you absolutely adorable? yes. did that mean you were going to let him get away with it? absolutely not.

pouting with your arms wrapped around the dock leg, you watched as the boy’s head disappeared underwater, not missing the mischievous glint that lingered in his eyes beforehand.

and just as you had expected, a wet head of dark curls popped up just beside you. just to be annoying, he shook his head like some kind of dog and laughed when you scrunched your face up at the flying drops of water.

the little loser laughed at you. now you were definitely mad, and would’ve crossed your arms and harrumphed if you weren’t still holding on to the dock like you’d die if you let go.

“are you ever gonna leave that poor dock be and actually come swim with me?” he asked, batting his pretty long eyelashes like he was pleading for you to do what he asked.

“go away.” you grumbled, looking away from him.

“aw, c’mon sweetheart.” he cooed, his tone teetering between teasing and sincere.

you felt familiar hands wrap around your waist as luke pried you away from the dock, ignoring your words of protest.

“you are literally going to drown me.” you frown as you have no choice but to hold onto him.

look, it wasn’t that you couldn’t swim, it was just that it was going to take one hell of a monster chasing you to make it happen.

“oh my gods, i am going to die.”

you were now out of arm’s reach of the shore, left with nothing but your boyfriend to keep you afloat. dam it.

“would you relax? i’m not gonna let you drown.” he chuckled, smiling at your antics as he kept both you and himself afloat.

“well you pushed me in, so you may as well.” you responded, sticking your chin up in dramatic negligence.

“hey, it was push you in or get caught and have about seventeen campers join us. which would you rather have?”

the first option, obviously, but you weren’t going to tell him that.

instead, you stuck to the silent treatment, which meant luke was left to his last and final resort.

“guess you leave me with no choice then,” he feigned a regretful sigh, even though you both knew he was ecstatic to do what he was thinking.

“wha- no. no no no no!”

luke had let go of your waist for no more than two seconds before you had screamed and clung onto him for dear life, your arms tightly wound around his neck and legs around his waist.

“i’m going to kill you, castellan.” you grumble, unable to see his reaction as your cheek was pressed against his.

there it was again, that gods damned chuckle of his that made your heart do little somersaults.

“love you too.” he said humorously. but when you didn’t reply with the same phrase, it was his turn to pout.

“hey.”

between the pout in his voice and the poke he delivered to your sides, you knew that your inattention had had just the effect you wanted.

this was the dance the two of you had done several times before. he’d annoy you, you’d ignore him and then you would relish in the way he turned into a lost puppy when it lasted for ten seconds too long, proving once again just how tightly you had him wrapped around your finger.

“hey. hey. hey.”

he poked you again and again, repeating the same word in hopes that you’d look at him, but you remained relentless.

“i’m not forgiving you that easily.” you insisted, as if your faces weren’t inches away from each other and water wasn’t the only thing between your body and his.

once again, he knew you too well to know there was little truth to your words.

he pressed a kiss to your cheek in hopes to get you to finally turn your head and look at him. again, nothing.

“hey, pretty girl.” he whispered, growing desperate and excruciatingly impatient. “would you at least look at me?”

feeling as though you’d drawn it out rather excessively, you listened and looked at him.

immediately, your lips were captured by his in a sweet kiss, the lake water seeping in between and tainting the flavor.

when he pulled away, luke wore a smirky kind of smile that made you want to kiss him again just to get rid of it and the giddy little feeling it gave you.

“am i forgiven now?”

he was, but instead of saying that, that was when you splashed a wave of water in his pretty little face.

[ssentimentals]

seventeen members as love tropes: woozi

grumpy x sunshine trope

'how can a heart like yours even love a heart like mine?'

'will it kill you to smile a little?'

jihoon's eyebrow twitches but that's all reaction he gives. whenever people try to get a rise out of him, the most they receive is an annoyed huff or dramatic eye roll, so eyebrow twitch is something new; i'm widening my arsenal, jihoon thinks, watching his classmates walk away. he almost opens his mouth to retort something sarcastic and beat his personal record, when he hears it. the only sound that instantly soothes his anger and makes him melt into a puddle as jeonghan says - sound of your laughter.

it rings in his ears as the most perfect melody and jihoon can get so easily embarrassed about many things, but his utter devotion and love towards you is not one of them. corners of his lips stretch to the sides on their own, his body moves like he's not the one possessing it - one second and he's already up, moving to the door, wanting to see you. with each step he takes, the louder your laughter gets and he wants to see it, wants to witness the most beautiful picture you paint with your head thrown back, eyes shut and hands somewhere in the air, gestucilating wildly. one step, two - he reaches hallway just in time to see you wiping away tears from your eyes, still smiling brightly. happiness surrounds you like a halo, its glow soft and bright at the same time, calling for jihoon to come closer.

'i can't believe it! and what did she- oh, jihoon! hi!'

it shouldn't be possible, but your smile grows even wider at the sight of him and his heart does this really not funny thing in his chest when it stops and does stupid somersault of some sort. it's all a bit hard to believe if he's being honest; the way you immediately focus your attention on him, how you choose him over other people, him. jihoon is not a fan of putting himself down, but he knows himself very well, is very aware of where he stands on social staircase especially in comparison to other cool kids. he knows he's grumpy, knows that many find him antisocial or unfriendly, knows he's not someone who can hold attention of others very well, he knows. those are all facts, plain truths along with him being closed off, shy, painfully ordinary. that's why it's hard to believe that someone like you - a sunshine in human form - prefers his company the most.

'where have you been?' you ask him and then jokingly push at his shoulder. 'i was looking everywhere for you.'

you should know. you should know what these words do to him because how can you not? jihoon thinks he's bad at hiding his feelings, is pretty sure that hearts in his eyes when he looks at you are too big for anyone not to notice. 'i didn't want to go, so i was waiting here.'

you frown and your frown only deepens, when passing by guy shouts: 'he's a party pooper, what did you expect?'. it doesn't really hurt jihoon, weirdly enough. he understands general confusion of others regarding him and you. how can such a sunshine be with such a grumpy guy? what do they have in common?

'ignore,' jihoon says, knowing that you're about to snap back. your attention is a gift and he wants it on himself, not on some irrelevant guys. 'how did everything go? you're happy?'

you smile, nodding. 'it was so nice, i have so much to tell you!'

'that's great,' jihoon gently takes your bag away from your hands and with even more gentleness takes your hand in his. 'tell me all about it during lunch? my treat.'

your smile softens and you get this bashful look on your face that he adores. 'it's always your treat.'

'mhm,' jihoon hums noncommittally. 'and it's always going to be. let's go?'

your hand grips his a bit tighter and jihoon sighs in satisfaction, when you sway closer to him so your shoulders are brushing. 'let's go!'

this is what matters in the end - your hand in his, your smile directed to him, your quiet 'i missed you' whispered somewhere between his neck and shoulder. not what others say or think, but your sparkling eyes and loud 'you're the best, jihoonie'. jihoon doesn't mind being grumpy if he has sunshine like you by his side.

a/n: offf, this is kinda rough, isn't it? coming back from hiatus is hard, people, but hopefully this is not very disappointing. anyways, i'm starting new series, hoping for support from you :') - nini

all my other works can be found here

[justporo]

I love to imagine that after everything is done, the city is saved, Astarion and Tav bought their house and settled down: they just stay in bed for a week.

Even though it might not be more than a mattress on the ground and there is barely anything else in the house.

Exhaustion just hits and they just want to feel cozy and comfortable 100% of the time, only going out to get some food for Tav and wine for them both. And they mostly just cozy up naked or at maximum wearing underwear or Tav just wears Astarion's shirt.

They just have sex whenever desire hits them because now they just can and for the moment there are no distractions, no worries, no fear. They can just hardcore hit the honeymoon phase where they can barely keep their hands off each other and a single look can be enough to start blazing flames.

But they also just lay there, cuddle, relax, talk - maybe Tav starts doing somersaults on the mattress because they were never able to do that as a kid and almost whack Astarion in the face while giggling like mad.

And they talk lots. Of course they did that before but it's different now because they have something they weren't sure of before: a future. And they plan their future, talk through all kinds of differents possible versions - even the most ridiculous ones. They talk about the most mundane things, like what colour curtains they want or what kind of wine glasses they'd like, what way bread should be stored and - "I have nerver ONCE in my life thought about duvet covers, Astarion - not even once." "Well, a nice point to start then, isn't it, my heart? Because silk looks amazing but I'm pretty sure you would like linen more..."

Or they joke until they're crying laughing, half hanging off the mattress or on each other and they can't breathe anymore because they both have never felt this light and safe in their life.

Maybe Astarion tries to teach Tav something: like how to let a coin wander over your knuckles or another language or he just talks about something like his favourite artworks and the history behind it and promises Tav to take them to a museum and show them more.

And even after the initial phase is over and they actually decide it's time to spend some time out of bed and finally get a real furniture, it becomes their little safe haven. The place where they always can be absolutely intimate in every kind of way and can be safe and comfortable - and at home.

[charlieleclerc16]

Lost and Found*

Summary: Charles and Y/N have been best friends since they were little kids but they lost track of each other over time. When Charles is in town for his home race they finally reunite and their meeting is sweeter than ever.

Pairing: Bestie!Charles x You

Word count: 4.4K

Warnings: Smut, fluff, cute. There might be some unprotected action in there, I'm sorry.

It's been a very long time since you last saw your best friend. It has been years, which is a shame, but there were reasons. The biggest reason was that he was travelling all over the world for the World Drivers' Championship, and that caused his schedule to be incredibly full. There is also the fact that, because he is rarely home to begin with, you don’t get many chances to see him.

Charles always tries to keep in touch, even with the crazy life he leads. But that might mean only brief texts and the occasional phone call. Sometimes not even those. The last time you heard from him was six months ago when he called to ask how your family was doing. He sounded so tired but excited. You talked for an hour, and it was almost like the last years hadn't happened.

With the new season starting up and him being back on the road, you decided to contact Pascale and see if she could get you in for the Monaco GP. This is an amazing opportunity for you to finally see your best friend and to surprise him with your presence.

The excitement about race day has been building up inside of you ever since you decided to do this. You know you can't expect much attention from Charles after the race, but you're looking forward to seeing him and getting to see him drive. You haven't seen him in person in two years.

You take a shower and then put on the black top and red high-waisted jeans that you have planned to wear to the grid, gotta support Ferrari. When you get into the kitchen, you realise that you are too nervous and excited to eat, so you settle for a banana. You check the time and are happy to notice that you still have some time left to spare, so you go into the living room and switch on the television.

There are no good shows on, so you switch to the music channels and find one that is showing a rerun of an interview Charles did a couple of years ago. The whole country, how small it may be, always turns into full mayhem when it’s raceweek. You smile as you watch him talk. Even after all these years, it's still the same Charlie. He's still your Charlie. You feel a pang in your heart when he smiles his cheeky grin at the interviewer, and you realise just how much you miss him.

As if reading your mind, your phone vibrates on the coffee table. You reach for it and see Charles' caller ID on the screen. You pick up and bring the phone to your ear.

"Charles?"

"Hi, baby!" He sounds excited. "Did I call at a good time? Are you busy?"

"No, I'm not. I was just watching TV." She decides to not tell him that she is going to see him in a couple of hours.

"Oh, what are you watching?"

"Um, an interview. It's not important. What are you doing? Shouldn't you be getting ready for the race?"

"I have a free half hour, and I'm hiding, so nobody can find me. I really needed to talk to you, and I couldn't wait anymore."

"Why did you need to talk to me? Is something wrong?"

"No, it's nothing like that. You're coming to the track today, aren't you?"

Your eyes grow wide and your stomach somersaults. How did he know? Did his mother give something away?

"How...how did you know?" You finally manage to say.

"I'm not stupid, Y/N. I know how you talk when you're nervous and when you're not. When I talked to you about my home race last week, your voice didn't sound like usual. You sounded nervous, and it was pretty obvious that you were going." He laughs on the phone.

"Wow, I'm not very subtle, am I?" You feel stupid.

"You really aren't." His voice sounds warm and inviting, and you feel a shiver running down your spine.

"So, why did you want to call me, if it wasn't to tell me not to come?"

"Oh, I would never tell you not to come. I really want you to be there today."

"But… Don’t you have a very busy schedule? You probably won't even have time to see me."

"Don't worry, baby. I will definitely see you. If I don't, you should find the backstage area and tell them to let you in. I already told the security team your name. They'll let you in."

"Really? Charles, you're crazy. You have a race to prepare for. You shouldn't let random fans into your private space."

"But you're not a random fan. You're Y/N."

"I'm glad that you still think of me like that, even though we haven't seen each other in a while."

"What do you mean?" Charles sounds confused. "Of course, I still think of you as my best friend. Nothing can change that."

You feel a lump forming in your throat. You don't want to cry, not now. Charles means the world to you, and he will never know. You are not the kind of girl who confesses her love to crushes, not even when they are her best friends.

"Y/N, are you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm still here. I was just thinking about something."

"Well, stop thinking. We're going to see each other in a couple of hours." He is smiling; you can hear it in his voice.

***

When you enter the city centre, the excitement inside of you is unbearable. The atmosphere is incredible, and the streets are so crowded and so full of life and happiness. Everyone is happy to be here, and so are you.

You find your way to the Paddock Club, which thankfully Pascale got you an access pass to because you would’ve never been able to afford this. As you wait for the race to start, you keep looking around trying to find familiar faces and wondering what Charles is doing right now.

The sun was shining brilliantly over Monte Carlo, its rays dancing off the azure waters of the Mediterranean as one of the most anticipated events of the year, the Monaco Grand Prix, is about to begin. Your heart is racing almost as fast as the cars that would soon tear through the narrow, winding streets.

Charles was starting from P1. Your Charles, the pride of Monaco. His Ferrari sat poised and ready, a crimson beast waiting to be unleashed. As you watch the big screen showing the last preparations for the race, you can’t help but feel a swell of emotion. You are already so proud of him.

Soon the camera pans over the cars lined up at the starting line showing the drivers walking to their vehicles. He climbs into the car, and the mechanics begin their final checks. The roar of the engines filled the air, a symphony of power and precision. The grid is set, and the lights above the starting line begin their countdown.

Red. Red. Red. Green.

The cars surge forward, a blur of colour and sound. Charles holds his position, deftly navigating the treacherous streets with the skill and grace of a dancer. Every corner, every straight, he is in perfect harmony with his car.

From the paddock, you watch every moment with bated breath. Your fingers are crossed, your heart lodged in your throat. Lap after lap, he maintains his lead, his driving a masterclass of control and speed. The crowds roar, the tension palpable as the race unfolds.

As the laps dwindle down, you find yourself almost unable to watch. He is so close, so close to his biggest dream. The pit stops have gone flawlessly, the strategy executed to perfection. But Monaco was a track where anything can happen, and the slightest mistake can spell disaster.

Then, with a grace that seems almost effortless, Charles navigates the final corner and speeds down the straight towards the finish line. The checkered flag waves and the crowd erupts into a frenzy. He has done it. He won the Monaco Grand Prix.

Tears of joy stream down your face as you watch him cross the finish line, arms raised in triumph. The team explodes into celebration around you, but all you can see is Charles. He climbs out of the car, drenched in sweat and triumph, and your eyes meet across the chaos.

His gaze pierces through you, sending a shiver down your spine. And then, he smiles. That dazzling smile that has captured the hearts of millions. And in that moment, you know that your heart belongs to him, forever.

***

It's been hours since the race ended. After all the interviews, the podium, the celebration, Charles was finally able to get some free time for himself. His eyes are roaming the room, looking for a familiar face, but he can't find you anywhere. Maybe you left without saying goodbye. He feels disappointed. He wanted to see you and to hug you.

The door opens and someone enters the room. Charles doesn't bother to look up. He is too busy feeling sorry for himself. But then your voice is what catches his attention. "Hi, stranger."

He looks up, and there you are, standing in the doorway. He is not dreaming. You are here, in Monaco, and he has just won the race. Life couldn't get any better than this.

"Hi, Y/N." He stands up and walks towards you.

You are speechless. Seeing him winning the race made you so emotional that you had tears in your eyes. Now, standing in front of him, all those feelings come rushing back. "Congratulations on your win. I'm so proud of you." You say as he pulls you in a tight hug. His strong arms wrap around you, pulling you close. You close your eyes and breathe him in, his familiar scent surrounding you.

"Thank you. I'm so happy that you're here." His voice is muffled against your hair.

You pull back slightly, looking up into his warm, brown eyes. There is something in the way he is looking at you that makes your heart race. You have never felt more alive, more connected, than in this moment. You feel as if he can see into your very soul, and the intensity of his gaze takes your breath away.

"Me too." You say softly, your voice barely a whisper. He leans in closer, his lips just a breath away from yours. Your heart is hammering in your chest, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. You close your eyes and allow yourself to fall into the moment.

Just as you're about to kiss him, he pulls back with a chuckle as if he only now realises that you are in a room full of people. You look around and see his family and the Ferrari employees as well as the security guards who are probably watching the two of you like hawks.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realise..." He begins, his cheeks flushed.

"It's okay." You say, taking a step back and running a hand through your hair. "I didn't realise either."

The room falls silent, and you can't help but wonder if everyone heard your exchange. You feel your face flush, and you turn away, avoiding Charles' gaze.

"We should go somewhere more private." He whispers in your ear, making you blush. You nod and follow him out of the room. The security guards let the two of you pass, and Charles leads you down a quiet hallway. You follow him in silence, your mind racing. You can't believe what just happened.

When you reach a secluded area, Charles turns to face you, a sheepish grin on his face. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable back there."

"You didn't. I just...I was surprised."

"Good surprised or bad surprised?" He looks nervous, and it makes you smile.

"Good surprised. Very good."

"I'm glad." He reaches out and takes your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours as you continue to make your way outside. "I've missed you so much, Y/N."

You smile up at him, feeling your heart swell with emotion. "I've missed you too, Charlie. More than you can imagine."

As you step out into the warm Monaco air, you can't help but think how lucky you are to be here, with him. He is the best friend anyone could ever have, and you feel honoured that he considers you his best friend. You squeeze his hand, and he squeezes yours in return. You know that, whatever happens next, you will always have each other.

Charles brings the two of you to a halt next to where his bicycle is stalled. "I totally forgot I came here by bike." He says, shaking his head. "Do you wanna come with me, or do you prefer to take a taxi?"

"No, no. I'll come with you." You don't want to spend a single minute away from him.

He smiles at you and nods. He climbs on the bike and motions for you to sit on the top tube as his bike doesn't have a rear rack. You hop on the top tube and wrap your arms around his handlebar for balance. "Jesus Christ, this feels dangerous."

"Just trust me." He says, a twinkle in his eye as he closes his arms around you to grab a hold of the handlebars.

"You sure we'll both fit on the bike?" You ask nervously.

"Of course, we'll fit. Come on." He starts pedalling and soon the two of you are zipping through the streets of Monaco, the sun setting in the distance.

You lean against him, feeling the warmth of his body, and you close your eyes. For the first time in years, you feel completely and utterly content. As the two of you ride through the streets of Monaco, his arms basically wrapped around you, you can't help but think that this is what happiness feels like.

"Charlie, where are we going?"

"Home." He says it so casually as if it's obvious that you belong there too.

You stay silent for the rest of the journey. You just want to enjoy the moment, savour the feeling of his body against yours. When you finally arrive at his apartment, the sun has almost disappeared from the horizon, leaving behind a pink and orange sky.

"Here we are." Charles says as he helps you off the bike. You can't help but notice how his hand lingers on yours, the contact sending a shiver down your spine. After a brief loss of contact to lock his bike, his fingers intertwine with yours and he guides you inside the apartment complex.

The elevator ride is silent, but it's not awkward. It's a comfortable silence, the kind you only share with your best friend. When the elevator doors open, Charles leads you down the hallway to his apartment, his hand still holding yours.

When he unlocks the door and ushers you inside, the first thing you notice is how big the apartment is. It's luxurious, just like he is, and you can't help but be a little jealous. He leads you into the kitchen, which is modern and well-equipped. "Make yourself at home. Do you want something to drink?"

"Just some water, please." You say, your mouth suddenly dry. He nods and busies himself at the sink. You take the opportunity to look around, taking in the sleek furniture and artwork adorning the walls.

When Charles returns with the glass of water, he can't help but notice the awe on your face. "What is it?"

"It's just...this place is so fancy. It's amazing."

He smiles, clearly pleased with your reaction. "Well, I'm glad you like it. Maybe I could give you a tour later."

"That would be great." You can't hide the excitement in your voice. You take the glass of water from him and sip it slowly, trying to calm your racing heart.

Charles walks over to the living room and you follow him like a lost puppy. It's when your eyes fall on the black grand piano that you gasp. "Wow, you have a grand piano!"

He turns around, a grin on his face. "Yeah, I love to play the piano. It's a good way to relax after a long day."

"Can you play me something?" You ask, unable to hide your excitement.

"Sure. What do you want me to play?"

"Anything. Surprise me." You say, smiling at him.

He walks over to the piano and sits down on the stool before he pats the empty space beside him. "Come, sit next to me."

You make your way over to him and sit down, feeling a little nervous. He begins to play, his fingers dancing across the keys. The melody is beautiful and melancholic, and it sends a shiver down your spine. You're completely mesmerised by him, by the way his fingers move so gracefully, by the look of concentration on his face.

As the music swells around you, you feel a sense of calmness washing over you. This is what you've been missing, what you've needed all this time. You lean your head on his shoulder and close your eyes, allowing yourself to get lost in the music.

"What is this song called?" You ask, your eyes still closed.

"I don't know." He whispers. "I made it up."

"You're so talented, Charles." You say, unable to hide the admiration in your voice.

He turns his head slightly and his lips brush against your forehead. "Thank you."

You open your eyes and look at him, the emotion in his eyes mirroring your own. You can't help but feel as if the world has stopped spinning and that it's only the two of you in the universe, in this moment.

He leans closer, his lips ghosting over yours. "Y/N, can I kiss you?"

You nod, unable to speak, and he closes the distance between you. The world around you fades into nothingness as his lips brush against yours. It's soft at first, tentative as if testing the waters of this new, uncharted territory. The kiss deepens, becoming more passionate, more urgent. His hands move to your waist, pulling you closer, and you respond in kind, your fingers tangling in his hair.

The taste of him is intoxicating, a blend of familiarity and excitement. You can feel the years of friendship and unspoken longing in every touch, every movement. It's as if the floodgates have finally opened, and all the emotions you had both kept hidden come rushing out.

When you finally pull away, both of you are breathless, your foreheads rest against each other’s. The room is silent except for the sound of your rapid breathing and the faint echo of the last note Charles had played.

"That was..." You begin, searching for the right word.

"Yeah." Charles smiles, a blush rising to his cheeks. "That was incredible."

You laugh softly, leaning into him and resting your head on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around your waist and holds you close, the warmth of his body soothing you. You sit there in silence for a while, enjoying the feeling of being close to each other.

"Hey, are you tired?" he asks.

"No, just relaxed."

"Okay. Well, I have a question for you."

"Ask away."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"That you love me."

Your eyes fly open, and your heart stops. He is looking at you, his expression serious. You swallow hard and try to think of an answer. But your brain doesn't cooperate, and you can't speak.

"W-what are you talking about?" You stutter.

"I'm talking about the fact that you are in love with me."

"No, I'm not. Why would you think that?"

"Because it's obvious."

"Oh."

"You look shocked whenever I flirt with you and after that so happy. It's the same look I have when I'm thinking about you." You can't believe what he is saying. Does he really mean it? Or is he just playing with your emotions? "Why didn't you ever tell me? Because of my job?"

"No, it's not that. I just...I didn't want to ruin our friendship. You're the most important person in my life, and I didn't want to lose you."

"Oh, baby. You will never lose me."

"Promise?"

"Promise." 

He cups your face with his hands and leans in again. Your eyes flutter closed, and his lips touch yours. The kiss is slow and gentle. His lips are soft and taste like mint. You feel a tingle in your stomach, and you can't help but sigh. His tongue darts out and caresses your lips. You open your mouth, and he slips his tongue inside. Your tongues tangle together, and the kiss becomes more passionate. When you finally pull apart again, you are breathing heavily. He smiles and strokes your cheek.

"You are so beautiful, Y/N. You know that, right?"

"Charles..."

"No, it's true. And you deserve to be told how beautiful you are every day."

"Oh, Charles."

He pulls you into his arms and kisses your temple. You lean against his chest and breathe in his scent. It feels so right to be here with him. After all these years, you finally feel like you belong.

"What are you thinking about?" He asks.

"About the fact that I don't wanna go home."

"Who said you have to?"

"What do you mean?"

"Stay with me tonight."

"Really?"

"Yes. Stay the night. I don't want you to leave."

"Okay."

He stands up and takes your hand. You follow him down the hallway and into his bedroom before he sits you down on the bed. He sits down next to you and strokes your cheek. You look into his eyes and see the same desire that you feel. You lean in and kiss him. His lips are warm and soft, and his tongue feels amazing. Your body is tingling, and you can't get enough. You wrap your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss. He pulls you closer and kisses you passionately. Your bodies are pressed together, and you can feel his arousal. You moan and rub your body against his. He breaks the kiss and looks at you. His eyes are dark with lust, and his pupils are dilated.

"Mhm, Y/N. You're driving me crazy." He pulls you into his lap and kisses you again. His hands roam your body, and you arch your back. He slips his hand under your shirt and cups your breast. You gasp and close your eyes. He squeezes your breast and rolls your nipple between his fingers.

"Oh God." You moan.

"Do you like that?"

"Yes. It feels so good."

He keeps massaging your breasts while kissing your neck. You grind your hips against him, and he groans. You can feel his erection, and it turns you on even more. He moves his hand to your other breast and starts massaging it.

He pushes you onto the bed and gets on top of you. His hands move under your shirt, and he pulls it off. You arch your back and expose your breasts. He licks his lips and leans down to kiss your nipples. He sucks on one and flicks his tongue over the other. You moan and dig your nails into his back.

He moves his hand down to your pants and starts undoing the button. He pulls them down, along with your panties, and tosses them aside. He looks at your naked body and smiles.

"You're so beautiful."

He leans down and kisses you. His tongue darts out, and he runs it over your lips. You part your lips and let him inside. He explores your mouth and moans.

"Mhm, I want you."

"Then take me." You say.

He pulls his shirt off and throws it aside. He undoes his pants and pushes them down. He kneels between your legs and looks at you. You can see his erection through his boxers. You bite your lip and reach out. You run your hand over his bulge and feel the heat. He groans and closes his eyes.

"Y/N."

"Yes?"

"I want you so bad."

"Then take me."

He quickly pulls his boxers down before he grabs your hips and pushes you further onto the bed. He lies down on top of you and kisses you. His erection rubs against your core, making you gasp.

"God, you're so wet." He moves his hand between your legs and strokes your clit. You moan and buck your hips. He positions his cock at your entrance and pushes in. You gasp and close your eyes. His cock fills you up completely, and you feel complete.

He starts moving slowly, and you cling to him. He kisses you deeply and groans. He moves faster, and you cry out. You wrap your legs around his waist and arch your back.

"Yes, Charles. Right there. Please."

He pounds into you harder, and you feel yourself approaching the edge. You never had sex that felt this right.

"I'm gonna come."

"Come for me, baby."

You scream his name and climax. Your body trembles, and you shudder. He moans and buries his face in your neck. You feel his release, and he collapses on top of you.

"God, Y/N. That was amazing."

"It was."

He rolls off of you and pulls you into his arms. You snuggle against his chest, and he kisses your forehead.

"So, this is where we've been heading since day one, huh?" You chuckle.

"Well, yeah. I just didn't expect it to take twenty years."

"Yeah, me neither."

"And I also thought we'd be more cautious about it." Charles laughs realising he completely forgot to use a condom.

"I don't know, I just didn't care."

"Yeah, me neither."

You kiss his cheek and rest your head on his chest.

"Charles?"

"Hm?"

"Will we be able to make this work? I mean, with our lives and everything?"

"We'll figure it out. I'm not letting you go."

"Good."

You close your eyes and listen to his heartbeat. He is holding you tight, and you can't imagine being anywhere else. You kiss his chest and slowly drift off to sleep in his arms.

[navybrat817]

Focus

Pairing: Motocross!Steve Rogers x Motocross!Female Reader Summary: You have a crush on Steve Rogers, but you don't think you're his type. Word Count: Over 1k Warnings: Crush, longing, slight insecurities, swearing, nicknames, Curtis is a good friend, Motocross!Steve Rogers (he's a warning, okay?) A/N: Finally an intro for Champ and Daisy in our Dialed In AU! Took me how long, @yenzys-lucky-charm ? Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated! ❤️

A 450 rider like Bucky with a lot of wins under his belt, Natasha was serious when she said Steve was one of the best riders in his class.

It was one of the reasons people called him “Champ”, a nickname he wasn’t overly fond of since some of the guys liked to tease him after races where he didn’t place first. It also gave him flashbacks of when he was younger and smaller, virtually ignored or told he wouldn’t excel in anything physically.

With a lot of heart and a late growth spurt, he proved them wrong.

Bucky said once that his nickname should be “Adonis” because of his now statuesque looks and the pit lizards fawning over him or “Golden Boy” because of his success and admiration.

Steve never let any of that get to his head and refused to let the pit lizards distract him. He worked hard to get where he was and continued to give it his all on and off the track every single time.

His determination was one of the many reasons you found yourself drawn to him. He was the kind of rider and person many aspired to be.

Your crush only grew the day you two actually met.

A rider yourself, you earned the nickname “Daisy” thanks to the flowers on your helmet and general sweet demeanor.

The helmet was the very thing Steve complimented you on when he walked by you at your first pro race.

You hadn’t meant to stare when he walked by, but his reputation preceeds him. Clad in red, white, and blue like a patriotic God, his blonde hair sparkled in the sunlight and his eyes looked like the sky on a cloudless day.

The sheer size of him almost made you whimper when he got closer. How a man was able to walk with such confidence and dominance yet still had an air about that said he was humble was a gift.

He even stopped to speak to a few kids who were eager to meet him and you couldn’t stop smiling when one little boy wrapped his arms around his legs in a tight hug.

Who wouldn’t fall for him?

You were certain you still had a dopey smile on your face when he looked your way.

“Beautiful.” The deep timbre of his voice sent a shiver down your spine when you realized he was speaking to you, which you tried to blame on pre-race jitters. “Your helmet. It’s beautiful,” he said when you didn’t reply.

You deflated slightly because of course he didn’t think you were beautiful. You were just a rider and not like the girls who flocked to him.

“Oh, thanks,” you croaked, clearing your throat immediately to try and save face. “I like daisies,” you added, mentally kicking yourself for stating the obvious. Why else would they be on your helmet?

The lopsided grin he gave you brought your smile back to your face. “You’re Daisy. Heard good things about you.”

Biting your lip and glancing away briefly, you didn’t catch his gaze following the movement. “You have?” You asked, slightly surprised that your name made the rounds.

“Yeah.” He nodded toward the track. “And I’m eager to see what you do out there.”

Your stomach did a somersault, but you held your head high. “I’ll try not to disappoint.”

“I doubt you could disappoint anyone,” he quietly spoke, looking over his shoulder when Bucky called out to him. “Gotta go. Good luck out there, Daisy.”

“Thanks, Champ,” you said, shifting back and forth on your feet when he stood up straight and flexed his gloved fingers. Maybe you shouldn’t have used his nickname. “I mean, Steve.”

You couldn’t read his expression, but you felt better when he gave you one more lopsided smile. “Champ sounds nice coming from you,” he said before he walked away.

You tried not to swoon or check out his ass when he went on his way, but Curtis clocked you immediately.

“You might wanna wipe that drool off your chin before your race,” he said, nudging you with his shoulder when you glanced at the ground. “Nervous? Don't be. You’re gonna kick ass out there.”

“Not nervous,” you said, biting your lip again. “He said he heard about me.”

“Yeah. Riders talk, you know that. And the guys saw you practice, so they know you have skills,” he said, sighing when you lifted your head and longingly stared after Steve. “Look, don’t let him distract you.”

“I’m not letting him distract me,” you argued, moving your helmet between your hands. “It’s just nice to get a compliment from such a skilled rider,” you said, especially since a lot of guys had a tendency to ignore you once they knew you loved to race.

Curtis narrowed his eyes. “I’m a skilled rider and I compliment you. I don’t see you walking around with hearts in your eyes and having a little crush on me.”

Your cheeks flamed before you hit his arm. “More like you bust my nonexistent balls. That’s not the same thing,” you said.

He didn’t move an inch when you hit him, the wall of muscle that he was. “Perk of being my friend,” he deadpanned, looking in the direction that Steve went, too. “I’m not one for gossip, but Champ is single.”

You put your helmet on so your friend couldn’t see your face. “Good to know, but I doubt I’m his type,” you said.

Because why would he like you?

“Rogers is a fucking idiot if he doesn’t want a girl like you,” he said sincerely before he hit your helmet with the palm of his hand, the familiar grumpy stare back on his face. “But enough of that shit. Get out there and win your fucking race.”

Which you did.

Steve's heart skipped a beat when you removed your helmet and smiled.

Because the truth was, you were exactly his type.

And he’d sweep you off your feet if you let him.

They're sweet, okay? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[mustainegf]

ok so, i’ve been listening to teenage dirtbag all day and i got this silly little idea that i can’t get off my mind

which is like 80s james having a crush on popular reader? and he thinks she’s so out of his league, but in reality she has always liked him and later they find out they have so much in common

btw i love you’re writing, thank u so much for giving us so much good content! 💘

THIS IS ADORABLE I’m gonna cry this is so cute

𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 ¹⁹⁷⁹

At seventeen, I loved only once, and she was way out of my league. Her name, so gorgeous, and she had everything I wasn't; popular, outgoing, filled with friends everywhere.

There was something so perfect about her, not to be underestimated, while I was merely one of the faces in the mass that made up my high school. I was the shy kid who kept tucking his head into his shoulders and always wore his guitar hung over his shoulder.

I'd watch her from afar, thinking surely someone of her caliber would never notice the class loser. Yet I couldn't help myself.

Every time she came down the hallway, her giggles echoing off the lockers, this strange longing would come over me. It was stupid, really. Why in the world would she ever look twice at me? She probably wouldn’t even look once…

One day, after a real long and tedious history class, I stood at my locker, just sort of fiddling with this combination lock. The bell had rung, and students who were rushing to their next class had started emptying the hallway.

But me, I was in no hurry. Already, in the head, I was mapping out the evening: go home, crank up my guitar, learn that new Diamond Head riff.

I was lost in thought and therefore didn’t notice her coming. It was only when she reached my side that I looked up to find her standing there. I froze, my heart somersaulting in my chest as she stood so close to me.

"Hi, James," she said, her voice warm and friendlier than usual.

I blinked. She knew my name. "Uh, hi," I stammered, trying to sound nonchalant but probably failing utterly.

She smiled, and it was almost like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. "I've seen you around. You always seem to be carrying that guitar. Do you play a lot?"

I nodded, my mouth suddenly dry. "Yeah, pretty much all of the time. It's, uh, kind of my thing”

"That's really cool," she said, and she sounded like she meant it. "I play a bit too. Mostly just for fun, though. What kinda music you like?"

It took a second for what she had just said to set in. She played guitar? I couldn't believe I had stumbled into a goldmine. Not only did she play just like I did, but she was so beautiful… and that’s all I could focus on. "I'm really into metal," I replied, now with a little more confidence creeping into my tone.

"You know, bands like Diamond Head, Iron Maiden, Misfits. Stuff like that."

Her eyes lit up, shocking me that she recognized of the names I’d just thrown out. "No way! I love Maiden!“

I smiled, and a something began to form that I'd never expected. "Yeah, totally..." I mutter through a wide smile, just staring at her gorgeous face.

We just stood there talking about the music, discussing our favorite bands and songs. I realized it wasn't all about popularity with her, she just plain loved music as much as I did. She was no longer this unreachable figure but a real person into all the same things as me. It was unreal. I just felt like I was in a dream.

Before that really good conversation had barely hit its stride, the bell sounded again, signaling the end of that break before the next class. I didn’t want the conversation from that point to be over, but before I could say anything, she gazed at me hopefully.

"Hey, wanna walk home after school together?" she asked.

I could hardly believe what I was hearing. "Y-Yeah, I'd love to," I said trying to keep my cool, but failing miserably.

"Okay! Meet me at the front entrance after last period," she said with a smile before bouncing off toward her next class.

I let my jaw drop, watching her as she practically slipped down the hall, her beautiful hair bouncing over her shoulders.

The rest of the day just seemed to melt. Nothing could hold my attention as my mind replayed our conversation over and over again. I couldn’t help my minds from thinking about the most mushy and gushy things.

I thought about kissing her, gently and loving, running my fingers through her hair, cuddling with her, whispering sweet things to her while I set sweet pecks along her cheeks.

For the very first time, I felt that maybe, just maybe, she liked me too.

As soon as the last bell rang, I had sprinted towards the front door.

I was leaning against the wall, trying to look casual, waiting. A few minutes later, she finally came around the corner.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Y-Yeah, let's go," I smiled, falling in beside her.

We walked in somewhat comfortable silence for some time, the autumn air coating my lungs. I felt a bit nervy but in a good way, you know, like the feeling that could convince you that you're alive.

As we walked through familiar streets, glimpses of her kept surprising me, and I couldn't still believe this was happening in real life.

"So, what got you into metal?" she asked, finally breaking the silence.

I shrugged, flipping the memory switch to when those first fist pumping riffs and pounding drums had grabbed hold of my ears.

"I guess it i related to it, being different and all. My brother leaves his drum Kit unlocked for me to play and I raid his records sometimes. What about you?

She smiled, her eyes very far away. "My older brother too. He's a huge metalhead. I used to sneak into his room and listen to his records when he wasn't around. It just kinda stuck with me, you know?"

I nodded, in awe at how similarly we’d come to this music. "Yeah, Music's got a way of getting under your skin.”

We just kept talking, there wasn't even a single awkward moment. We learned about more and more common ground, favourite bands and guitarists we admired, even some really obscure tracks we both loved from cassette trading.

By the time we came near her house, I didn't want our time to end at all. She turned toward me with a soft expression and looked a little shy. "Thanks for walking me home, James. I had fun with you."

"Me too," I said again, a feeling of warmth spiking inside of me once again. "Maybe we could do it again sometime?"

"I'd like that," she said with a broadening smile. "See you tomorrow?

"Yeah, see you tomorrow," I replied, and my heart felt like it was flying as I watched her walk up to her front door.

I couldn't stop grinning all my way home. Then I knew, maybe I was wrong the entire time. Maybe we weren't so different after all.

→ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐

[h0rnyshakespeare]

Love’s Grave

Pairing: Izuku Midoriya x gn!reader (Izuku has a crush on reader) , Katsuki Bakugou x gn!reader (reader has a crush on Bakugou) hehehe love triangle~

Genre: angst

Word Count: idk mannnn it’s long

Warnings: Hanahaki disease

A/N: I realized I haven’t written a fic for Midoriya yet and I was like wHAT HOW DARE I- ahem anyway, onto the fic :)

“I have feelings for Katsuki.“

Midoriya’s heart shattered at your words. “W-what?”

You smiled, embarrassed. “Yeah. It felt weird to admit it out loud, but now I know for sure.”

Midoriya wanted to break down from the whirlwind of emotions he was feeling, but kept it together for your sake. “So, um, why’re you telling me?”

“You’re my best friend, Izu, I’ve known you and Katsuki since we were kids; I’m comfortable around you.”

Despite the emotion-wrecking news you had just told him, those few words slightly sped up his heartbeat. “They’re comfortable around me?”

He immediately hated that he’d thought that. Oh, how he hated how much he liked you. But as much as he tried to convince himself this, he knew he loved it. He loved hearing your voice, he could listen to you for ages on end without ever getting tired of your sound. He loved how your smile had his heart do somersaults in his chest. He loved how you were always so patient between him and Bakugou; how you managed to salvage the three of your’s friendship. He loved to fantasize about how you would feel in his arms, how his hands would feel locked with yours, how your lips would feel against his, melding perfectly together.

But as fun as it was, it all had to come to an end. You liked Bakugou, there was no getting around it. Midoriya wanted to punch himself; Bakugou had yet beaten him to something he wanted so badly. Someone he craved, someone he felt at home with. Somebody he loved.

Still, he managed a weak smile for you. “You should confess to him.”

“Oh, um, I was actually planning on waiting it out,” you said, biting your lip. “Someone like Katsuki would definitely only ever see me as a friend, I mean, he’s him and I’m me. Plus, he’s focused on his goals right now, and I don’t want to be a distraction.”

“I see,” Midoriya answered. Silence settled in the room, before Midoriya could not stand being in your dorm room anymore. “I have to go Y/N, it’s close to curfew. I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Ok, good night Izu,” you smiled softly at him, shutting your door.

Midoriya ran back to his, crying himself to sleep that night.

The first petal appeared on a school morning. Midoriya was brushing his teeth, getting ready for the day when he started coughing, mildly at first but gradually becoming uncontrollable. He retched into the sink, coughing out a single, yellow petal in the midst of a few crimson droplets of blood. Midoriya’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh no,” he muttered. He had heard of the disease before. Hanahaki. The curse of unrequited love. “As if love itself was not a curse already…” Midoriya almost wanted to laugh. He knew the disease was rare, so rare that a cure had yet to be found. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. “I’m going to die.”

He felt strangely calm about the whole ordeal. Midoriya decided on one thing: he’d never let you find out until the end. He knew you would blame yourself, holding yourself guilty for feelings you could not help. “It’s ok, Y/N,” he whispered, unsure of whether or not he was actually trying to calm himself down. “It’s ok.”

You had noticed something was off. Midoriya was never one to excel at hiding things, especially from people close to him. He had been acting rather odd lately. At first, it was little things such as locking his door (something Izuku never did usually) and taking bathroom breaks quite frequently during class. You had not questioned him, respecting his space; once he started subtly spending less time with you, however, was where you began to worry. Was it something I did?

You kept trying to find time to talk to him alone, but each time was diverted. You were confused, and decided to confront everything once and for all. You walked to his dorm and knocked on it lightly. “Izuku? Can we talk?”

You heard some movement behind the closed door, letting you know Midoriya was inside. “J-just a minute!” you heard him stutter, the door opening a few minutes later. “Oh, hey Y/N,” he said, looking nervous. “Hi, Izu, I wanted to talk to you about something,” you said, noting how Midoriya’s eyes refused to meet yours. “Oh, um, sure! Come in, what’s up?” he asked as the two of you walked into his dorm room. “‘Zuku, um,” you began; his heart melted yet again at the nicknames you called him. You exhaled slowly. “I hate confrontation but… are you avoiding me?”

Midoriya’s eyes widened. “W-what?”

“I’m sorry if I’m wrong, but you’ve been acting kinda off lately… ‘specially around me. I didn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable, did I?” “No, no you didn’t, Y/ N!” Midoriya replied, arms waving in denial. “It’s just… we’ve been working a lot harder recently, I think I’m just tired.” “Idiot, remember to take care of yourself,” you reprimanded, hitting him lightly on the arm. He chuckled, before feeling another coughing fit coming in. “O-oh! I just remembered I had to give Todoroki his book back today. I need to go do that now, sorry Y/N.” “Okay, no worries! I’m glad I got to talk to you, Izu,” you smiled at him, heading back to your room. Midoriya waited until you were out of sight, then bolted towards the bathroom. He barely made it to the commode before coughing violently. The number of petals had only grown; Midoriya could feel the thorny stems scratching their way up his throat. The inside of the toilet was a mess of blood, bile and golden petals, which Midoriya had previously identified as marigold petals. Marigolds, which symbolized despaired love. Midoriya sighed, hugging the porcelain bowl. Why was this so painful? “It’ll be over soon,” he told himself.

It’ll be over soon.

Soon…

Midoriya woke up in a familiar room. He did not remember passing out, and if he was in the hospital bed he so frequently ended up in, that meant…

‘Someone found me passed out,’ he thought, his blood running cold. Shit. This was supposed to be secret. “Izuku?”

Just when he thought it couldn’t get worse. He turned his head to see you. His heart constricted painfully at your expression. You looked so… despaired. “H-hey,” he smiled. Your eyes filled with tears. Before either of you knew it, your hand had slapped him across the cheek. He stared, mouth slightly agape. “When were you gonna tell me, idiot?” you yelled through your tears. He looked down at his hands quietly. “Who is it?” His head shot back up. “What?” “Who the hell is causing you so much pain?” you asked, firmly.

Midoriya sighed. “It doesn’t matter.” “Izuku-” “Just leave, Y/N,” he whispered. You shook your head stubbornly.

“Listen, I’ve talked with Recovery Girl, you have three options. One, you confess to this person and they realize their feelings for you, two, you go through the surgery… but you’ll lose your memories of them, and three, y-you die. Which I’m not allowing, by the way, so really you only have two options.” Midoriya laughed in spite of himself. “Confessing isn’t gonna work, Y/N… they’ve already told me they like someone else.” Your expression softened. “Hey, it- it wouldn’t hurt to try?” And for a split second, he considered it. Considered telling you. But he didn’t want to hurt you.

“I can’t, Y/N. You’d understand if you knew,” he smiled. You sighed. “Okay then… I guess surgery it is.” Midoriya’s eyes widen in panic. “W-wait, what?” “I told you, dummy. Either confess or surgery. Option 3 is not an option.” Midoriya panicked. Yes, he didn’t want to die but if he went through with the surgery… he’d forget you. All the memories he’d made with you since you both were five. And then you’d know. But the way you were looking at him, expression firm… god he loved you. And he didn’t want to hurt you. So he nodded. The sigh of relief you let out almost made it seem worth it. “I’ll go get Recovery Girl,” you muttered, standing from where you were sitting by the side of his bed. “Wait, now?” Midoriya asked, breaths quickening. Damn, he wasn’t ready. Not now, not ever.

You squeezed his hand in reassurance. “Recovery Girl said that we need to take action quickly, Izu. You don’t have a lot of time left…”

Midoriya could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the ringing in his ears drowning out his words. He didn’t think it’d happen this fast. He wasn’t ready to let go.

“Y/N?”

You pause in your tracks. “Yeah?”

“What if… the memories are too important to say goodbye to?”

You looked at him, devastation written in his eyes, wishing you could do anything to remove the pain your best friend was going through.

“No memories are worth a life, Izu. And you’ll get to make new ones with this person, whoever they are. Although personally, anyone who’s making you go through so much doesn’t deserve to be in your life.”

Izuku smiled sadly at your words. If only you knew.

“Okay.”

Midoriya’s eyes fluttered open, wincing in pain as they adjusted to the bright hospital lighting.

“Look who finally decided to wake up from their beauty sleep,” a familiar voice drawled.

Midoriya turned to see Bakugou, his friend from childhood, and… a person he didn’t recognise.

“Kachchan, what’re you doing here? What… what am I doing here?”

“You had surgery, silly. The doctor will explain, she’s on her way,” the person smiled and said to him. He smiled politely and bowed his head in greeting. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Midoriya Izuku.”

The smile dropped from their face immediately, replaced with shock. “I- what?”

Midoriya felt confused and weirdly guilty. Had he said something to upset them?

“I-I’m sorry-”

They didn’t reply, instead turning to Kachchan in a horrific realisation. “‘Tsuki…”

Kachchan’s face looked grim. Midoriya didn’t understand. Did Kachchan know them?

They coughed and attempted to recover themselves.

“Sorry, I was just a bit confused, I thought you were someone I once knew. I’m Y/N L/N.”

[kkaewrites]

real or not real — nagi seishiro x reader !

warnings. indecent language, ooc nagi.

tropes. meet-ugly, enemies to lovers.

you hate nagi seishiro.

he was stone cold, often referred to as socially awkward— but you feel like those were just excuses to make up for his rude and nasty behavior. personally, you think he’s overrated just because he’s considered a soccer genius. of course, no one ever believes you. they think your hatred clouds your judgement (it obviously does not).

you first met him when you were in grade school, deskmates for the first day of class. he was shorter than you at that time, but aside from his height, everything about him stayed the same. he still has the same gunmetal gray eyes that’s either reflected with boredom or reflected by the screen of his gray nintendo gameboy. he still has the same white hair, as clean as the first drop of snow, but as wild as a lion’s mane.

to you, there was absolutely nothing about him that’s fascinating— he was the same as any average boy. playing mobile games was his favorite past time, so much so that you believed that it was his lifeline at one point. or so you’d assume. he always kept to himself and was left to his own devices (quite literally), most things that kids enjoy don’t seem to pique his interest. you guess those were the reasons why he didn’t have many friends.

no, scratch that— he didn’t have any friends.

at first you wondered why. if there’s one thing you noticed about him even at a very young age, it’s that he’s handsome. he doesn’t have to be the “rich kid” with amazing gadgets and fancy toys, or the “cool kid” who knows what right words to say and way to say it, but he’s nagi. he was conventionally attractive without even trying. however, that fact doesn’t seem to make up for the fact that he looks lonely.

so, you’ve devised a plan to talk to him.

“hey. sei-chan, wanna be my friend?” you’re everyone’s friend. the sunshine child, the one who always lends her classmate crayons or pencils, the kid with pigtails who smile at strangers for no reason. you’re the kid that everyone loves, and if by some miracle, someone hates you (which has never happened and will never happen)— everyone would simply take your side. you’re loved by all.

if nagi was shocked by your sudden proposal, his features didn’t show any signs of it. what he does is pause his current game and faces you. it’s the first time you’ve ever stared at him eye-to-eye. your heart jumps.

uh oh. is this what they call a crush?

eyes filled with hope, you patiently waited for nagi’s response. you expected him to utter “sure” wearing his usual monotone voice, but it doesn’t come. and what he says instead ruins you. your heart does a somersault and tumbles, crashing onto the pavement and breaking into tiny, gliterring pieces. it did not feel good.

“no thanks. i despise people like you.”

you’re not sure what you’ve done wrong at that very moment. maybe you were too blunt, too cheery, too whatever — just something too much to be able to upset someone like nagi seishiro, who doesn’t feel strongly about anything or anyone. you didn’t have the courage to ask him what you’ve done wrong because your vision blurs. you always reckoned that it was due to anger, but your mother who saw you run home with tear-streaked cheeks says otherwise.

you still don’t know how you managed to piss off nagi, even until your very first year of college. after grade school, you never saw him again. you heard he studied at some prestigious high school but that was the end of it, you never really asked because you had no interest whatsoever. you somehow managed to assure yourself that there was no way you’d ever cross paths with him once again— so why is he here?

why, of all places, would he be your deskmate for your politics class?

at this point, you thought maybe the gods above despised you, too. did they hate you enough to not only be schoolmates, not only be classmates with this man, but to be deskmates? hate is the only logical explanation for this fucked-up coincidence. you’re not keen on fates or invisible strings so you’re sure this was just a punishment for you.

oh god. you hate it so much. you hate him so much.

without a word, you took the seat right next to him, taking the opportunity while he’s sound asleep. you’re not sure why he would take politics as his subject, because as far as you know about him, all he ever cares about is his mobile games. maybe soccer as well, but that’s not exactly related to politics, either.

when the professor enters the class, you found no reason to wake him up. he could get screamed at for all you care, but there was no way you’d ever converse with him at your own accord. because the only way you’d ever survive sitting next to him for the whole semester is by not acknowledging him at all. you can do that. you can avoid talking or looking at him. he’s not that talkative (and he’s not even awake) to begin with.

until your plan crashes and burns.

he turns out to be your partner for a school project— a big one, at that. you considered going solo, but the whole point of the project is to make sure two people are working together. it was a community development kind of plan, so unless he works with you and you work with him, you’d be getting an F for your politics class. that, you can’t have. even if it meant talking to him and enduring his presence.

he wakes up right after the class ended and you could barely contain your scoff. he sat through the whole 2 hour lecture just like that, does he have no care for his grades? doesn’t matter. it’s none of your business if he fails, that simply means that you won’t see him much anymore (which is a win for you).

you sighed. he should’ve been paired with someone else. why did it have to be you? why did it have to be your deskmate? and why did he have to be your deskmate? it was too much. how could you ever work with someone you hate? with someone who hates you?

you’re going to fail politics. you’re 100% sure of that. there was just no way that you’d ever accomplish this task— or you could beg your professor to let you switch partners. or you could ask your classmates to let you switch... but who would ever want someone as lazy as nagi to be their partner? fuck.

from the corner of your eye, you saw nagi yawn. it took all of you to swallow your pride whole and gulp it down to ever approach him, but it’s better than not trying. if you fail, at least you tried. even if it meant battling your inner demons.

so, clutching your bag straps tightly as if it would ever help, you turned to your sleepy deskmate. “nagi. it seems like we’re partners for the politics subject. i’m expecting you’d cooperate willingly so that—”

“sorry,” he interrupts with half lidded eyes. “do i know you?”

“you’re going to rip your paper to shreds.” nagi commented from behind you, peering over your shoulder as you aggressively wrote on your notebook. you imagined the page to be nagi’s face as you cruelly stabbed it, not caring about your pen or your paper’s state. you cannot believe that for some reason, you’re still stuck with the snow white haired guy. you’ve tried everything there is to get rid of him but nothing seemed to work.

“right,” your teeth could break with how hard you clenched your jaw. “will you be free later?”

“oh. i have soccer training.”

of course he fucking has soccer training.

you gave him the strongest deadpan you could muster before exhaling a deep breath. once to calm yourself down, twice to clear your head and thrice in hopes of losing all of your lungs’ air so you could shrivel and die on the spot. nagi seems to be unaware of your thoughts— and even if he had understood your facial expression and body language, he simply did not care.

“i’ll be free after, though.” he adds, as if you’d ever know that information if he hasn’t uttered it. this at least gives you the sense that he might care about the group project, and that he won’t be a complete inconvenience.

“okay. let’s meet up at the coffee shop near school. will you be done at 8?”

“yeah. but,” he pauses. “i thought we’d just do the project at my place.”

“who died and made you king?” you blurt out before you could think of a proper response. you wondered if you’d ever feel so strongly about a person the same way you did for nagi. he was driving you mad.

“what?” his clueless face almost made you feel guilt— almost. but you ignored the sensation and frowned instead. the least you could do was give him a clearer sentence:

“there’s no way i’d ever step a foot at your house.”

“it’s fine. no one’s home anyway.”

“that’s even worse.”

“huh? oh. don’t worry. you’re not my type.”

the conversations you somehow hold with nagi infuriates you. he has this way of making you feel like shit for some reason, and he does it with so much nonchalance you’d wonder if he insults everyone. but you know better and you know he definitely doesn’t, because you’re the only one he treats like this. it’s the absolute worst.

what does he mean you’re not his type? were you not pretty enough? not tall enough? not skinny enough? not fair enough? not what? ever since grade school, you’ve always thought that he sees you as someone “too much” and yet as he stands here with you, in an empty classroom— you wondered how you could be “too much” and yet be “not enough” at the same time.

and since when did you care about how he views you? since you were kids, apparently. because the words he would utter up until this day shatters you all the same. and you hate him— so goddamn much. but beyond all that anger, there’s grief. it doesn’t subside even as you grabbed all your things and shoved 6”3 foot tall nagi aside.

for some reason, he shows up at the café you mentioned at exactly 8 o’clock in the evening. you were typing away on your laptop, while a cup of caramel macchiato and a bunch of scattered papers littered your desk. you didn’t expect him to come, and it would’ve been better if he didn’t. but somehow, he’s here and he looks a little apologetic.

“are you upset?” he asks. his sports bag slumped over his shoulder as he stands right next to you. there’s an unoccupied seat in front but he doesn’t take it— at least, not yet. his whole, undivided attention was poured onto you and you alone. it makes you squirm in your seat, so you decided not to look up from your screen to greet him.

“no. take a seat.”

“you look upset.”

“do you want me to be upset?”

“no.”

“then shut up.”

wordlessly, he takes the seat right in front of you and slouches. he looks battered and fatigued from practice, but he doesn’t say a word to complain (to your absolute shock). you guessed that he walked straight from the field to the café without even changing or taking a shower, because his clothes clung to him like a shirt a few sizes smaller.

“shouldn’t you go change?”

“yeah. but i left my clean clothes at my apartment.”

fifteen minutes pass and you suddenly closed your laptop shut, eyes fixated on nagi’s gunmetal gray ones. he looks surprised from your sudden move, a look that you didn’t expect to recognize due to how miniscule it was. you felt bad for him. the café was getting too cold for comfort and all he wore was his jersey (one that’s drenched with his sweat). if you stayed any longer, he’d probably catch a cold.

why you care, however, that was not a question you could currently answer.

“let’s just go to your place.”

despite his constant need to laze around, his place wasn’t a complete mess— well, yes, there are (presumably dirty) clothes on the floor and used dishes on the sink, but you’ve seen worse. you expected his apartment to be so much worse. it seems like he’s not a complete monkey to not understand basic hygiene and cleanliness.

your only problem is that nagi seems to be bored. you caught him dozing off the coffee table as you ramble about your politics project, and you don’t even have to ask if he cares at all— because he’s trying to hide his obvious distate and boredom. so, even though you’d rather proceed to do your work rather than humoring this 6 foot tall giant, you pipe up:

“wanna play a game?”

“what game? i don’t like games that require effort.”

“it’s called real or not real. we take turns in guessing if the other person’s sentence is real or not real.”

“sounds like a pain.” he groans.

“you know what truly is a pain?” you turned to look at him. “this politics project. so take it or leave it. i’m kind enough to give you a break.”

“shouldn’t we play a different game? a mobile game, maybe.”

“what about a wager, then? the winner’s the boss.”

the game was a piece of cake— to you, at least. nagi’s an open book and it’s easy to read him. you explained that the mechanics goes like this: you take turns in giving very specific sentences about yourself, and the other party has to guess whether it’s real or not real. five wrong guesses means that the other person wins. so the only thing you have to do is to make sure that nagi loses first.

unfortunately, you were down to four mistakes while nagi only had one. the game wasn’t going like how you imagined it would be. how were you supposed to know that nagi keeps a cactus as a pet? how were you supposed to know that he only figured out how to play soccer when he was in high school? how were you supposed to know that he’s got a picture of his crush under his study table? (you still had no idea who that crush is, and it quite literally shocked you). how were you supposed to know that someone like nagi seishiro, was capable of liking someone romantically?

on the other hand, out of the six sentences you threw at him— he had only guessed wrong once. you don’t know how he’s so good at this game, too. it was either he knew awfully a lot about you, or was really good at second guessing things. you’re pretty sure it was the former. how could he know a lot about you, when he doesn’t even know your name?

“real or not real: i hate you.” you stated. his nonchalance was putting you off, but you’re not sure if you were uneasy because of it or if you felt guilty for saying that sentence out loud. you told yourself you could just take it back and act as if it’s not real but nagi himself looked so convinced when he said:

“real.”

he was right once again. but you didn’t have enough time to dwell on the whole thing when his sentence comes.

“real or not real: i want to kiss you right now.”

the silence was so loud it pierces your ears— or maybe you have gone deaf with that sentence. you’re not sure of anything at the moment because it feels like your senses were slowly slipping from your own fingers. if nagi was joking, his face didn’t show any signs of him laughing soon. but maybe you should know better, maybe he could joke like that with a straight face.

so you waited for a few minutes, for him to tell you that it was a joke— that it’s not part of the goddamn game because how could it be part of it? but nothing comes. his eyes were simply on you as he patiently awaits your answer. your make it or break it answer, at that. and it only dawns on you that this is real, this is his sentence and he’s expecting you to play. he’s expecting you to answer real or not real. because you were the one who proposed the game in the first place.

you wanted to scream and to run away, but you were rooted on the spot. time stood still and it froze you under nagi’s unblinking gunmetal gray eyes, as if the situation’s not bad at all. but this is a trick question, your rational mind says. he told you when you were younger that he despises people like you, asked you if he knows you upon meeting at your politics class, and told you that you’re not exactly his type— so there’s no way he’d want to kiss you. right?

you meet his gaze. right, nagi?

against your better judgement to think it through, you suddenly blurted: “real.”

his face doesn’t shift and nor did the mood of the room. your heart was beating erratically as if you’re not facing the guy you clearly hated with a passion, but the silence ensues. you were screaming at yourself, why the fuck did you say real? were you out of your goddamned mind? were you crazy? the answer’s clearly not real!

nagi, however, only looks away. “huh.”

“what?”

“i almost won. what a pity.”

“the answer’s real?”

“yeah.” he tilts his head and answers as if you were stupid. as if you were the one who’s weird and doesn’t get what’s happening— but maybe that really is the case. because you’re mind hasn’t caught up yet. what does he mean the answer’s real? does that mean he wants to kiss you, right now? how is that possible after all the things he had said to you?

you laugh. not the quiet giggle or the chuckle you were accustomed to doing, but a belly laugh— one that could rival a hyena’s. because this was funny. too funny. he’s definitely joking and you’ve only figured out that now.

“okay, fine. you got me.”

“what do you mean?”

“the joke. you’re so serious that i almost missed it.”

confusion marrs his face. “what joke?”

“about the kiss.”

“i wasn’t joking.”

“well, i’d rather have you joking than for that sentence to be real.”

“you hate me that much?”

he almost sounds hurt, but you knew better. how could he be hurt, out of all people? if there’s anyone who’s hurt, it would be you. how can he say all those hurtful things with so much nonchalance and tell you things like he wants to kiss you? how cruel must he be to toy with you like this? it was not funny. none of this was funny.

and it reminds you of your childhood— of your little crush on nagi that never seemed to go away. somehow, the little you screams that you should not fall for something like this. that it is easier to hate nagi than to love him. that it is easier to stand up from your seat, smile, and tell him: “yeah. i do.”

it has been a week. maybe two. or three? you’ve lost count. you’ve never visisted nagi again after the whole real or not real game, and you never saw him often because he’s been excused. something about soccer championship that you didn’t bother listening to. besides, you liked the comfortable silence now that he’s not around.

your phone dings. and it’s from an unknown number. but somehow, you guessed it has something to do with nagi.

unknown

real or not real: i’m sorry

oh. that’s right. the game technically hasn’t finished yet because no one has won. you told yourself numerous time that you won’t reply to his message, but against your better judgement, you somehow still did.

you

real

when your class ended, nagi seishiro was right outside. he was panting and sweaty— as if he ran just to get where you were. but this is nagi we’re talking about. there’s no way he’d actually do something like that, despite his lingering look on you. what’s that supposed to mean, anyway?

breathless, he speaks up to catch your attention. you were busy stuffing your books inside your locker, back against him as you completely ignored his presence. you did not say hi. you did not meet his gaze. but even without direct contact, your heart was drumming against your rib just by knowing that he’s near. what the heck.

“we won the game.”

there’s a lot of responses that entered your mind at that very moment. entry #1, who asked? entry #2, who cares? entry #3, why are you telling me this? and the list goes on. you’re pretty sure none of them were positive— but this was all so confusing. why was nagi chasing after you like a lost puppy who lost its mom? what’s he going for here?

“that’s good for you.” you slammed your locker shut and walked away. nagi eventually follows after you, as if there’s something in his throat that he wants to let out, but you didn’t give him the chance to. you’re sure nothing that would come out of his mouth is good. you’re sure he’s running after you because of the politics project, or because he wants to annoy you.

and you hate it. you hate him. your gut twists at the thought of him running after you like this is some shoujo manga and that’s the annoying part. how is your heart flipping with your every waking step if you hate him so much? you’re supposed to hate nagi, god fucking damn it.

you finally stop in your tracks, whipping around to face the 6 foot tall soccer player. to get it all over with.

“is there something you need to tell me?”

“we haven’t finished the game.”

“i don’t care about the game. leave me alone.”

“it’s your turn. your real or not real.”

this was stupid no matter what angle you look at it. it was just some game you made up and decided to try with nagi. it didn’t mean anything to you because all you wanted by then was to get his attention, so why did it matter so much to him? you don’t get it. you’re not sure how nagi circuits because everything he does confuses you. and before you know it, your irrational side takes over. reason left your body when you blurted the words:

“stop it. fucking stop this.”

why are you so persistent?

“was it fun to toy with me? was it fun when you told me you despised me when we were kids? was it fun when you told me i was not your type? i don’t fucking get it.”

you were angry. mad. seething. your blood boiled underneath your skin and you feared that it would leave your whole being in nothing but dust. through it all, you’re also confused. perplexed. lost. your mind can’t understand the fine line between hate and love anymore. your feelings overlap with each other and merges— you’re not sure what you’re feeling now. you’ve wondered how long you’ve buried this string of emotions you’ve had for nagi. that would explain why you’re nothing but a ticking time bomb now.

“if my playing with my feelings give you so much fun— then do it elsewhere. i have no time for things like this, nagi.”

“but i’m not playing, though. i’ve liked you for quite awhile now.”

excuse me?

“oops. i accidentally gave the answer to my next sentence. what a pain,” he scratches the nape of his nexk and looks away.

how the fuck am i supposed to respond to that?

“do you expect me to believe you?”

“i’ve got no reason to lie,” he shrugs. “plus, lying’s a pain. i don’t like it.”

“but— what you said back then...”

“i, well. i go blank when i talk to you. i guess. my stomach flips when you’re around and my throat goes dry.” nagi doesn’t look at you once while he utters this. tinge of red coats the tip of his ears and this is where you think ‘this is it’. he’s not lying. this is real, and you know that much— nagi never looked nervous until now. you think maybe that explains why he would avoid your gaze and why he would say the most confusing things. you think maybe this is nagi. the socially awkward nagi. the one who can’t talk to people properly nagi.

“i’ve always thought you were pretty. i despise pretty things because it makes me feel things. it’s a pain.” he mumbles. “of course i know you. of course i know your name. but it’s the first thing i thought to say because your face was too close. you’re prettier up close.”

he should stop talking. he should drop it all together and just kiss you, but you could never say these words because you haven’t wrapped your head around the whole thing yet. nagi likes you. nagi thinks you’re pretty. nagi short circuits when you’re around. nagi thinks you’re pretty. nagi’s actually confessing. nagi likes you. he thinks you’re pretty. he likes you.

“i don’t like pretty things. that’s not my type at all. but reo said i might be in love with you.” he finally turns to look at you and tilts his head. your face burns— and you swore it was because of the remnants of your anger, but everyone else could tell that it was not. your heart does a somersault, but this time it does not drop. it stays in the air, lingering like nagi’s perfume scent, until he carefully waits for it to land on his palms when he said: “i think he’s right. i’m in love with you.”

for the duration of your game with nagi and with all the truths shared between the both of you— this is probably the most real out of them. this is the only time he doesn’t ask the question ‘real or not real’ because his face says it all. his face says that it’s the real and raw truth. his face says that you must believe this because he’s not making it up. it was the first time you could read his expression. it was the first time that you’re not confused by nagi.

“fucking dumbass,” you comment. “that’s not how it works.”

you reach over to grab his collar, on your highest tip-toes because of his height. you’re pretty sure you’re the only ones present in the secluded corridor but the clamors of your heart makes an illusion of people cheering for you. somewhere in the parallel worlds of your universe, you think maybe those cheers exist. it only silences when you pulled nagi down with you, whispering:

“i hope you still want to kiss me, then.”

when he closes in the gap between the both of you, his answer was loud and clear.

i do. always.

notes. YES YES YES i finally finished this long ass fic! i’ve been writing it since forever & im just SO glad i finally get to finish it 🥹 as u can see, there is nothing on my mind rn but nagi seishiro. he’s literally living in my head rent-free and i’m not complaining. i love him too much. i hope u enjoyed this ‼️ as always, likes & reblogs are appreciated <3 thank you so so much for ur patience & love for this blog ❤️

ִ ࣪𖤐 masterlist !

[theverystrangegirl27]

⋆⭒˚.Be My Once In A Lifetime ⋆⭒˚.⋆

Summary: You're a young actress with a supporting role in Inglorious Basterds. You and co-star Christoph Waltz grow closer under the pretense of practicing a scene together.

Warnings: smut, older man younger woman, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms

"You're kidding, right?”

The camera pans up your bare leg, revealing the tight black dress you'd been hassled into by Quentin and the costume designer.

Quentin paces back and forth in front of you, eyes squinted.

“No! I think this is perfect, maybe shorter heels, though.” He says, gesturing to the costume designer, who comes back with some tasteful kitten heels.

You've known Quentin for most of your life, having worked at the video store together and collaborated on many of your own short films.

It only seemed right for him to cast you in his latest project, though you don't understand why he'd want you, an amateur actress, working alongside legends like Brad Pitt and the talented Christoph Waltz.

The cameraman stops on your face, which you can see in the monitor, and you try to school it into a more pleasant expression but it's hopeless- you've never acted in a scene like this before.

“Quentin, are you sure I'm the right fit for this?” You ask, carefully walking down the short staircase.

He shoots you a look.

“Of course, I wouldn't have cast you if you weren't.”

You suppose he has a point.

“Besides, I think it'll be good for you to branch out and play a little dangerous, if you know what I mean.”

You can't help the laugh that escapes you as he raises his brows, obviously intending to cheer you up.

“Okay,” you agree, slipping off the stilettos and replacing them with the kitten heels. “Let's do it.”

That's how you end up beneath Christoph Waltz, or rather, Hans Landa.

The camera is zoomed in on both of your faces, Christoph tracing the line of your lips with his eyes as he recites the lines.

“The Basterds must know that I am not a stupid man.” He says, low and condescending. “To send a seductress after me, how infantile.”

Yet his lips draw nearer, his grip on your waist harsh and unforgiving. You look into his eyes, gaze cold as he looks back into yours. You arch, trying to get away, but he holds you tighter.

You gasp as he fingers dig into the dress, sharp blooms of pain growing from the skin there.

“However,” He begins, the corners of his mouth pulling into a horrible smile. “I would be more of an imbecile not to take this angelic little gift that was practically served to me on a silver platter.”

You feel yourself getting wet at the lilt in his voice, how hot his thigh feels pressed between your legs. You want him so bad.

He pulls you in, big hand spanning across your arched back, pressing you to him.

When his lips meet yours, you go a little weak in the knees.

You fight it at first, hands curling into fists against his chest, trying to turn your head away, but you can't fight the desire any longer.

You give in.

“And cut!”

Christoph pulls away, panting. Your chest heaves a little as you shakily pull air into your lungs, looking at the way your hand is still pressed against his chest.

“That was perfect,” Quentin praises, a wide smile taking up his face. “One more take, and I think we've got it.”

He comes up to the both of you, Christoph still holding you, albeit softer.

“Now, Y/N, the struggling was great, but maybe kick your feet out just a little. Really try to get away from this guy, but then, after a few seconds, sink into it like you did just then.” Quentin directs, and you nod, pushing a lock of hair out of your eyes.

“Christoph, don't be afraid to just-” Quentin makes a quick grabbing motion with his hands. “Latch onto her, really grab her.”

Christoph runs his hand down your back, and you can't tell whether it's intentional or not, but it makes you shiver anyway.

As Quentin walks away, Christoph turns his attention to you.

“I'm not hurting you, am I?”

You give him a reassuring smile, ignoring the way your heart does somersaults in your chest.

“No, I'm okay.” You say, and he smiles down at you.

“Tough girl,” He says, and you fight the urge to bite your lip. His gaze turns serious, business like. “You can really push back for me, I can handle it.”

You nod, blushing a little at the double meaning his words conjur. Soon enough, Quentin is calling action, and the two of you are back at it.

After the last take, Christoph and you are left on set together while the crew packs up, Quentin looking over the footage a few feet away.

Christoph slicks back his hair, watching you lean against the desk, kicking your shoes off idlily.

“Would you like to have dinner with me this evening, Y/N?”

The question is sudden, out of the blue. You look up quickly, and your suprise must show on your face because Christoph begins to explain himself.

“To discuss the scene, if you'd like.” He says, looking a little sheepish. It's so uncharacteristic of him that you don't think twice before saying yes.

“I'd love to.” You say, beaming at him.

The smile he gifts you with makes your heart flutter wildly in your chest.

That night, you meet at Christoph's hotel room. The suite is huge, yet not overly extravagant. It suits him well, you think, as he lets you in.

“You'll have to forgive me for running a little behind.” He apologizes as he fixes his jacket.

“That's alright.” You tell him, sending him a small smile.

He's wearing a simple black blazer over a white linen shirt, black slacks to match. Christoph is clean-shaven, and his hair is immaculate as always.

It takes everything in you not to drool.

He seems to be thinking the same thing because he's stuck staring at you, lips slightly parted.

“You look lovely.��� He breathes.

It takes you by suprise, pink dusting your cheeks.

“I could say the same about you,” you respond, cheeky.

Christoph smiles, lips pulling back to reveal pearly white teeth.

“You flatter me.” He jokes, moving towards the door.

“This hotel has a wonderful restaurant at ground level, I think you'll enjoy it.”

You do, as a matter of fact. The red wine Christoph order's is delicious, paired with some kind of salmon dish you can't pronounce.

The whole dinner is spent laughing, bantering back and forth, and listening to Christoph’s many stories.

“I really can't remember why I did that particular film,” He's explaining, setting his empty wine glass down. “To tell you the truth, I was probably hard pressed for money at the time.”

He had shed his blazer twenty minutes ago, left in the white linen shirt that looked so, so good on him.

You press the tips of your fingers to your lips, giggling a little. The wine has begun to go to your head, making you feel light and airy.

“Well, we've all made desperate acting decisions.” You joke, your foot accidentally nudging his under the table.

Christoph looks at you, a soft smile on his face and an unreadable glint in his eye.

“Have we?” He asks, raising a brow.

You blush, sitting back in your chair and sipping the last of your wine.

“I mean, I was in these terrible short films during college, I'm sure Quentin can tell you all about them.”

Christoph surprises you by leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“Tell me about these short films.” The way he enunciates the last two words makes you shiver a little, and you hope he doesn't notice. “Been in anything I would have seen?”

That startles a laugh from you, and deciding to match his energy, you too lean forward, propping your chin in your hand.

“I hope not.” You say, smiling wide as you look into his eyes.

They're so pretty. Christoph has this warm, comforting aura to him that you can't really explain.

You've seen him in American interviews, how he's often described as cold- his dry wit lost on the likes of Jimmy Fallon and Kimmel- but you can't imagine those people are describing the man currently sitting in front of you.

He laughs.

“Come on, I've told you about that embarrassing German television spot I did. You owe me.”

You bite your lip, looking down at the tablecloth before deciding on a story.

“You want to hear about my very first on-screen kiss?”

You wiggle your brows, watching as Christoph nods.

“I was twenty-two, and it was some student film Quentin had roped me into.” You sigh, thinking back on the film.

It wasn't very good - shakily filmed, poorly acted, and the worst part was the kiss.

You shudder at the thought.

“I don't think this guy had ever even touched a woman, let alone kiss one.” You say, Christoph huffing a laugh as you continue. “I swear to you, he leaned in, misjudged how close my lips were, and licked my chin!”

Christoph laughs along with you, shaking his head.

“God, what a nightmare.” He says, and you feel him gently tap your heeled foot. You furrow your brow, still smiling.

“You know, Y/N, you're an excellent kisser.”

Christoph catches you off guard, and you find yourself a little breathless.

“And you blush so prettily, my God.”

Now you're really looking at him, at the way his eyes are fixed on your parted lips, how his left hand is lying face up and empty on the table.

Is this really happening? You think.

With only a slight bit of hesitance, you reach forward, the tips of your fingers grazing his.

It's all the permission he needs.

Christoph takes your hand in his, turning it so he can trace your palm with his thumb. His hand is warm, strong against your smaller, softer palm.

You bite your lip, looking at him through your lashes.

“You know, when we first met, I felt like a dirty old man.” Christoph says, tone soft yet playful.

“Here's this beautiful woman, half my age, and I get to ravish her for the camera.”

He lifts your hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

“You don't know how many times I've thought about that kiss.”

It's a confession, something that makes your breath hitch and your eyes lock onto his.

“Christoph,” You begin, shocked.

Christoph is looking at you, so sincerely, your heart aches.

“If I'm misreading this, please, tell me now.”

Christoph has been the object of your desire for weeks now, working with him day in and out a specific sort of torture you can't begin to explain.

Of course you want him.

You squeeze his hand.

“Will you take me back to your room?”

Christoph grins, something salacious in it that makes you want to kiss it off of him.

He takes the hand he's holding to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“Lead the way, liebling.”

*

*

*

Christoph has you up against the hotel room door, your dress pushed up over your thighs as he kisses you deeply.

You've never been with a man who kisses like Christoph does - with complete, sure confidence and finesse. It makes your insides hot and melt-y feeling, leaving you desperate for more.

Your hands clench into his white shirt, desperation filling all of your senses.

You want him so bad.

He pulls away slightly, eyes dark as he looks at the mess he's made of you.

“You'll let me have you, angel?” He asks, and you nod, eyes big as they take in the sight of him.

“Yeah?” He asks again, a slow, easy smile on his face.

“Yes.” You breathe.

He kisses you once, twice, three times before turning your body from the door, backing you up towards the bed.

“I've wanted to feel you for so long, beautiful girl.”

You pull the straps of your dress down, nipples hard in the cool air.

His eyes are immediately drawn to them, thumbs coming up to stoke at your nipples, the pads of them warm against your skin.

“Christoph,” you sigh, leaning up to kiss him again, one hand coming to tangle in his hair.

When you break for air, you move to slide your dress down your body, leaving in the black panties you had picked out for this occasion.

Christoph runs his hands down your body, eyes piercing as they take you in.

“God help me,” He mutters before leaning in, pressing you into the expensive hotel sheets.

You gasp, your naked back hitting the mattress with a surprising amount of force. You look up through your lashes at Christoph, who is leaning above you, undoing his belt hastily. You smirk, your hands sliding up his thighs and helping him with his fly.

“You wanna fuck me?” You tease, breathless.

Christoph swallows, his movement's slowing as he looks down at you.

“Liebling, fucking is for insolent, foolish boys.” He finally gets his pants down, boxers following soon after. Christoph leans down, and you think he's going to kiss you, but instead his lips find your ear.

“I'm going to make love to you, and believe me, you'll be thinking of me for weeks to come after I'm through with you.”

You feel yourself getting wet at his words, the promise of his dick finally getting inside of you, making you easy for it. Your legs fall open, Christoph making a home between them.

His face finds your neck, planting sweet, wet kisses to the skin there.

You want him inside you so badly, and you tell him as much, back arching when his fingers find your cunt.

“So soft, my beautiful girl,” He mutters, breathless as he rubs at your clit.

You close your eyes, hands scrabbling at his back.

“I want you, Christoph, please,” you beg, shameless.

He kisses you, silencing you. You get lost in the feeling of his hand on you, his lips devouring every moan and gasp he draws from you.

You huff, eyebrows furrowing as he rubs faster and faster on your clit.

“Oh my God-” You manage to gasp out, thighs clenching around his arm as you come.

Christoph works you through it relentlessly.

“There she is, that's my good girl. That's it.” He groans, forehead pressed to yours.

You whine, arching away from his fingers as the stimulation becomes too much.

“Please fuck me, please Christoph.”

He smiles, eyes meeting yours.

“I love the way you say my name.”

The two of you maintain eye contact as he enters you, agonizingly slow. You watch the way his breath catches, how his eyes flutter shut when his hips meet yours. That overwhelming, satisfying fullness makes you moan softly, hands gripping him close.

“You feel so good,” you tell him, all sorts of feelings bubbling up in you.

He rocks forward, hips meeting yours lovingly as he carves a home for himself in You.

Your eyes fall shut, head tilting back, and he sucks wet, lust filled kisses onto your neck.

The pace quickens, the headboard hitting the wall as you both grow frantic.

“You're going to come for me again, my angel, my pretty girl,” He pants, a hand coming up to brush your sweaty hair from your face. His palm is warm, and you tilt your head to kiss it.

“Yes,” your breath, hot, bubbling pleasure threatening to spill over you. “Make me come, please, please, Christoph-"

He groans, burying his face in your neck.

You wrap your legs around his back, wanting to keep him close, and the pleasure builds higher, higher, then-

“Fuck!”

You throw your head back, eyes closed and mouth agape as your second orgasm of the night overtakes you.

“Jesus, ich sterbe,” He groans, low and heady as he pumps you full of his come.

Christoph's hips stutter as your walls flutter around him, beckoning him further.

You hold him close to you as he rides out his orgasm, kissing his forehead.

Sighing and spent, he rests on top of you. You run your fingers through his hair, legs shaking as they unwrap from around his waist.

“Stay with me?” He asks quietly.

You put a hand under his chin, lifting it so your eye level.

You kiss him gently.

“I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.”

[charlesslut16]

-forbidden love-

summary : you and charles are in love but you are not allowed to date...

PAIRING : charles leclerc x fem!reader

WARNINGS : badly translated french

masterlist

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Your love was forbidden.Charles and you have been in love with each other since you were both kids. The love only developed more with the years. You both longed for each other, like kids longed for candy.

Your moms hated each other, so your love was forbidden. Convincing. That was what you did all your life. To convince you moms to let you date each other, but you moms didn't back down.

You tried torturing Arthur, so you could see Charles, but you moms never allowed it. Only if Charles wasn't around, you could come into the house and help Arthur. 

Your mom's never allowed you both to be in the same room, because you could have tried to date in secret. But now you were both in the Ferrari motor home, looking at each other.

Feeling the same as you have always felt. You both knew what you felt for each other. Both of you having the same question on your tongue but knowing that the question would never be asked.

Charles looked at you, as if you were the only woman who'll ever exist to him. It was making your heart race, your mind screaming. He reached for you, making your skin tingle when his hand touched your cheek.

It felt like your tongue was tied, because there were also many things you wanted to say to him. But nothing left my lips. Instead, his deep voice filled the space between you.

"Tu es à couper le souffle, mon coeur." You looked at him with big eyes. His dimples made you a beautiful appearance. Beautiful. You are breathtaking, mon coeur.

"We can't be together, char" You whispered. "You know we can't." He simply shook his head at your statement, leaned in closer until his lips brushed your ear, a shudder worked itself in your spine.

"There's nothing that could part me from you. Not a country, not an ocean and especially not our families who believe we cannot be together. Tu m'as volé, mon petit voleur. You have taken my when I wasn't looking. And I beg you, mon amour, don't ever give it back to me." You stole from me, my love.

His voice was low in your ear, it felt like a harmony. He pulled away a little, our eyes connected again. His words toke me by full surprise and made me even more stunned than I already was.

"We can't be together." You repeated yourself hoarsely, your voice seemed to leave you, breaking in the process.

The warm smile he gave you was... comforting. Butterflies somersaults made it into your stomach. "Maybe not at the moment, mon petit voleur" he agreed.

"Mais j’attendrais cent ans pour toi, seulement pour avoir un peu de temps avec toi." But I would wait a hundred years for you, only to have some time with you at all.

He lightly grabbed you by your throat. You sucked in a sharp breath when he had pulled you closer to him, his own breath mingled with your own, what made your head dizzy.

"Let me just have a little taste before I starve to death." He rasped, the words made no sense to you, but then his mouth crashed down onto your lips. And suddenly, everything started to clear itself.

For a moment, everything was perfectly fitting. Every little thing was right. The voices in your head quiet down. And the time seemed to stand still. But every little moment had to stop eventually. Just like this one had.

It left you with a void that should have been filled.

[whimsicalwritingsandmore]

Aurorise | ateez x reader

Pairing: prince!ateez x dancer!reader

Genre: royalty, historical fiction, poly, adventure

Word Count: 1706 words

a/n: FINALLY!! After my update post on Sunday, it rained yesterday and today! 😭❤️ And I was able to complete this chapter! :D The next set of chapters up until maybe chapter 8 or 9 will focus on the guys and Y/N meeting, interacting and talking as well as some other fun things!! So things will be a little slow for now but I will try my best to make it worth your while! :) Enjoyyy! <3

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Chapter 3

There was a somber feeling in the air that night.

As the evening transferred into night, and the sky became a dark canvas with the faint light of the moon illuminating the landscape, Seonghwa stood by the window staring blankly at his surroundings. The faint noise of faraway dogs barking could be heard and as Seonghwa gazed at the blanket of stars above him, he closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath in an attempt to help calm his whirring mind and drown out the outside noise. There was currently a whirlwind of thoughts swirling throughout his mind and unfortunately for him, he had to wait till the morning to find out the outcome.

Seonghwa really liked you. He couldn’t control the somersaults his heart did when his mind raced about you. You came back into his life and brought forth a kaleidoscope of colours and a feeling of warmth and bliss that he hadn’t experienced in a long time. When he recognized it was you, he was entranced by your beauty and charm — although the entire courtyard was filled with people, his gaze was fixed on you and he felt pure happiness watching you gracefully twirl and dance to the rhythm of the music.

However, there was another thought also plaguing his mind. Seonghwa hadn’t seen San since the news broke throughout the palace about his request to the King. He was wondering what his younger brother was doing and thinking. He saw Wooyoung in the hallway along with Yeosang heading to San’s room, and when Wooyoung noticed him, he glared judgingly at the eldest while Yeosang sideyed the two awkwardly. Wooyoung “hmphed” and spun on his heel making his way towards the other end of the palace with Yeosang waddling close behind.

Seonghwa would be lying if he said he didn’t feel bad — he did. It was San who introduced him to you when you were all kids. There were times when you would accompany your Father to work in order to escape certain chores, and when Prince San met you, he grew to appreciate your company after you helped him save and sneak in a stray kitten. However, San pretended to be a guard’s son as he feared you would dislike him like the other kids in the village did, and when he told Seonghwa about you and his charade, Seonghwa chastised him for lying. But then one night, when Seonghwa was looking for a particular constellation, you appeared out of a bush with a bouquet of wildflowers and assisted him and since then, Seonghwa joined San’s charade in order to get to know you.

He couldn’t explain it but there was something about your sweet and cheerful personality and calming presence that he liked…a lot. 

However, all good things must come to an end, and as he got older, Seonghwa hardly saw you when he was whisked away for princely duties.

You were still close friends with San and so, Seonghwa would hear about you from the latter. But when mercenaries from another kingdom ambushed the palace one night, you didn’t come back to the palace for a long time. And when your Father retired, it was clear they would never get to see you again. In addition to that, the cracks within their family became more apparent after the events, and friction ensued among the family members, particularly their mothers, and nothing was the same again for the brothers.

Seonghwa never told San about his feelings, he kept it to himself, hoping that for the betrothals you would attend and partake in the event and it would be a simple and expected outcome. But you didn’t, and Seonghwa wasn’t going to settle for someone he didn’t love or at least liked. So when he saw it was you in the courtyard, he knew he had to do something. He wasn’t sure what to do so out of excitement, he told San you were here. 

He didn’t expect San to throw the veil. That was when he realised, San likes you too.

After talking with his father, Seonghwa has been cooped up in his and his brothers’ secret hideout, thinking about everything that occurred. Until he was interrupted by Hongjoong. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” His brother asks, strolling into the room with a glass of wine in hand.

“No, I’m fine.” Seonghwa responds curtly, without turning to acknowledge his younger brother. He wasn’t in the mood for any conversations right now.

Hongjoong analysed his brother with a raised brow, smirking at his brother’s failed attempt to hide his anxiousness. If there was one person who might be on Seonghwa’s side, it would be Hongjoong. But at this moment, Hongjoong wasn’t sure whose side he was really on. In contrast to San who would never hide anything and was like an open book, Seonghwa kept to himself and hardly ever spoke about what was settling on his mind. 

So Hongjoong was extremely surprised when he heard the news. And while he may not care for royal duties and royal plans, he did care deeply for all his brothers.

“The whole palace already knows and not everyone is happy.” Hongjoong announces sipping his drink.

“I know Mother might not be —”

“I think he means San.” Jongho declares.

The two oldest turn to the youngest who is propped by the door with his arms folded. Jongho didn’t know how to approach his eldest brother. At the end of the day, Seonghwa was the oldest out of all of them and while he did have a deep respect for him, San wasn’t only Jongho’s older brother but also his biological brother.

“Tell me brother,” Jongho begins, “What really were you thinking? First you coax San to throw the veil and then you steal his girl?”

“She’s not his girl Jongho. You don’t know —”

“Here’s what I think,” Jongho intervenes, “I think you liked Y/N the moment my brother introduced you to her, she doesn’t remember either of you because you both lied to her about who you really were, San told me that part, and it seems like you wanted to marry her for quite some time now because you’ve gone out of your way to betroth yourself to her.”

“...Okay so maybe you do know.” Seonghwa sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was starting to feel a headache coming on.

“He’s right Seonghwa. Everyone knew San liked her.” Hongjoong comments.

“Well I didn’t until today,” Seonghwa answers blankly, “It’s not like I always got to spend time with you all when you got together up here to talk and hang out.”

Hongjoong grimaces a little at the remark but deep down, he knows it’s true. Because of his place in the line of succession, Seonghwa hardly spent time with his brothers. It was only Hongjoong and Yunho who made an effort to spend time with him outside of royal classes.

“Also I didn’t expect he would throw the veil. I told him because, well, I had to tell someone and he was the only one I could tell. I was just as surprised as Y/N was.”

“Fair but after realising, why did you seek her hand behind his back anyway?” Jongho questions.

“I don’t like your tone Choi Jongho.” Seonghwa turns to the youngest and narrows his eyes.

Jongho removes himself from his position and walks towards Seonghwa, facing him with his hands in the air.

“It’s just an honest question. You finally knew, yet, you sought her hand. Shouldn’t you have talked to San first? Moreover, shouldn’t you take into consideration Y/N’s feelings?”

“And what do you mean by that?”

“You’re second in line for the throne, you’re putting not only a lot of pressure on her, you’re also taking away her freedom.”

“It’s not my intention to —”

“Even if it isn’t your intention,” Hongjoong interjects, “You know that the position for who will sit on the throne is an extremely controversial case in our family. Everyone is practically hanging on a thread because of it. And when you think about it, Y/N’s cousin is set to marry Chan soon, and now you want to marry Y/N. You’re putting her in an awkward position.”

Seonghwa processes Hongjoong’s response. He knows it’s all true however, there’s something he hasn’t told them yet.

“I plan to give up my place in line for the Crown.”

Hongjoong and Jongho stare at Seonghwa in pure shock and astonishment, their mouths agape at his revelation.

“I need to sit down.” Jongho says.

“Oh no no no! No you are not!” Hongjoong yells.

“Why not? Minho would be next in line anyway—”

“No, Minho wrote a letter to abdicate his place in the line of succession.” Jongho explains.

“What? Since when?”

“I think he went to the King some time last week. Nothing has been decided yet because his Mother is currently not pleased. So the King said they’ll circle back to it.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Why wouldn’t he? No one wants to rule this dysfunctional place! And neither do I!” Hongjoong exclaims.

“You’re being dramatic Hongjoong.”

“Seonghwa, nobody likes our family. Neither the villagers nor any other kingdom. Our dearest Father has slandered any reputation that Grandfather had, and it will take a lot of work to get anyone to trust us. And I’m not going to volunteer as tribute!”

“Then write a letter of abdication.”

“I can’t, after Minho did if I approach Father next, Mother would surely have my head.”

“Well Chan is still here so…”

“That’s not the point. No one is going to let you abdicate your place. You’ll raise even more hell in this palace if you announce that.”

“So what do I do?” Seonghwa asks frustratedly. All this new information was not only putting a wrench in his plans, but also was slowly driving him to the brink of madness.

“Honestly, you better hope for a miracle,” Hongjoong sighs tiredly, “Because if this marriage goes ahead, she will have to bend in order to fit the role as your wife and have Mother accept her. Otherwise…”

“Otherwise?”

Hongjoong and Jongho glance at each other warily before Jongho clears his throat.

“She will break.”

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Taglist: @chngbnwf

a/n: I'm not sure if there were any recent requests to be added to the taglist. If I missed your tag, first of, I'm really sorry!! Please send me an ask or PM and I'll add you asap! :)

[quiet-desperationn]

Roger Waters: Another crack in the wall

Original The Times article

No paywall alternative (the formatting gets a little bit messed up)

About craving a father figure

"Not surprisingly, the young Waters craved a father figure. 'I used to get up before six every morning and help [the milkman] deliver the milk. I did it every day. My mother said it used to break her heart because she knew I was so desperate to connect with men. We’d have political meetings in our house and these men would come in and I would immediately start doing somersaults, leap around, desperately trying to get these men to notice me, give me attention. She said it was sort of pathetic to watch.' "

About his relationship with women

"Waters admits he has struggled to understand women.  [...] He shakes his head: 'Learning to understand women has been an incredibly difficult journey for me. I hate anger in women, I’ve never known how to deal with it. The way I have always dealt with it was by crying, and I think women hate that.

'I have cried an enormous amount in my life. Under any kind of emotional stress I would burst into tears — in fights with the band, in fights with women, I would just weep. I’m being honest. I am not what people think.'

He blames the lack of a father figure for his problems with women. [...]

'If you live in the company of women all you learn is their power, you don’t learn how to be with them, you learn how to do as you are told.'"

About his ex band mates

"[...] Waters’ anger has not cooled with time: 'If you find it difficult to be creative the easiest way out of that is to say, ‘Oh, he wouldn’t let me do it, he was controlling, he was this and that.’ You either are a writer or you’re not; you are good at organizing or you are not; you are a leader or you are not. Well, I am all of those things and they are not any of those things, so it was necessary for them to say that I was a horrible person who did all of these things in a horrible way so it didn’t make them look weak.'"

About the 2010 The Wall tour

"Is this about the money? He smiles: 'It would be a drag if I was doing this to 50%-full houses and I lost money, but no, it’s been a much bigger thing for me. I think always in my mind, this was something for my dad.'"

About socialism

"Waters got rich. Surely that is a difficulty for someone reared by communists? 'When I finished Dark Side of the Moon, I started to realize I was going to have more money than I could spend; by definition a capitalist. I gave a quarter of it to a charitable trust and I still give money away, but I don’t feel guilty.'"

About fatherhood

"The boy who grew up without a father admits he didn’t excel at fatherhood himself: 'When I was younger I was just absent a lot of the time. I had no idea how to be a dad, I just didn’t know what I was supposed to do, and I think I allowed the mothers more power than I should. I’m glad I’ve come through with the kids, the older we get the better and better we get on.'"

[allthelovehes]

Lost and Found*

Summary: Harry and Y/N have been best friends since they were little kids but they lost track of each other over time. When Harry is in town for his tour they finally reunite and their meeting is sweeter than ever.

Pairing: Famous!Harry x Reader

Word count: 3.5K

Warnings: Smut, fluff, cute.

Taglist: @justmystyles @bitchybabyharry @harrysslut7 @swiftmendeshoran @lucasandharold @harrysbabycherry @htaylor18 @rose-garden-dreamz @myalovesharry @mellamolayla Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! 🤗

A/N: I had this idea on my list for a while so I figured why not write it?

It's been a very long time since you last saw your best friend. It has been years, which is a shame, but there were reasons. The biggest reason was that he is one of the most famous pop stars in the world, and that causes his schedule to be incredibly full. There is also the fact that, because he is touring the world, you are not even living in the same country for the longest time.

Harry always tries to keep in touch, even with the crazy life he leads. But that can mean only brief texts and the occasional phone call. Sometimes not even those. The last time you heard from him was six months ago when he called to ask how your family was doing. He sounded so tired but excited. You talked for an hour, and it was almost like the last years hadn't happened.

With his latest album out and him being back on the road, you decided to buy yourself a ticket to his next Wembley show. This is an amazing opportunity for you to see your best friend and for him to hopefully spot you among the thousands of fans.

The excitement about this day has been building up inside of you ever since you decided to do this. You know you can't expect much attention from Harry after the concert, but you're looking forward to seeing him and getting to see him perform. You haven't seen him in person since his first headlining tour.

You are now on your way home from work and still have a few hours to go before you have to head out for the concert. You take a shower and then put on the T-shirt and jeans that you have planned to wear to the concert. When you get into the kitchen, you realize that you are too nervous and excited to eat, so you settle for a banana. You check the time and are happy to notice that you still have some time left to spare, so you go into the living room and switch on the television.

There are no good shows on, so you switch to the music channels and find one that is showing a rerun of a Harry Styles interview. You smile as you watch him talk. Even after all these years, it's still the same Harry. He's still your Harry. You feel a pang in your heart when he smiles his cheeky grin at the interviewer, and you realize just how much you miss him.

As if reading your mind, your phone vibrates on the coffee table. You reach for it and see Harry's caller ID on the screen. You pick up and bring the phone to your ear.

"Harry?"

"Hi, love!" He sounds excited. "Did I call at a good time? Are you busy?"

"No, I'm not. I was just watching TV." She decides to not tell him that she is going to see him in a couple of hours.

"Oh, what are you watching?"

"Um, an interview. It's not important. What are you doing? Shouldn't you be in rehearsals?"

"I have a free half hour, and I'm hiding in my dressing room, so nobody can find me. I really needed to talk to you, and I couldn't wait anymore."

"Why did you need to talk to me? Is something wrong?"

"No, it's nothing like that. You're going to my concert tonight, aren't you?"

Your eyes grow wide and your stomach somersaults. How did he know? Did you give something away?

"How...how did you know?" you finally manage to say.

"I'm not stupid, Y/N. I know how you talk when you're nervous and when you're not. When I told you about the Wembley shows, your voice didn't sound like usual. You sounded nervous, and it was pretty obvious that you were going." He laughs on the phone.

"Wow, I'm not very subtle, am I?" You feel stupid.

"You really aren't." His voice sounds warm and inviting, and you feel a shiver running down your spine.

"So, why did you want to call me, if it wasn't to tell me not to come?"

"Oh, I would never tell you not to come. I really want to see you tonight."

"But...aren't there a thousand people coming? You probably won't even see me."

"Don't worry, love. I will definitely see you. If I don't, you should find the stage door and knock. My security team knows about you. They'll let you in."

"Really? Harry, you're crazy. You have a concert to prepare for. You shouldn't let random fans into your dressing room."

"But you're not a random fan. You're Y/N."

"I'm glad that you still think of me like that, even though we haven't seen each other in a while."

"What do you mean?" Harry sounds confused. "Of course, I still think of you as my best friend. Nothing can change that."

You feel a lump forming in your throat. You don't want to cry, not now. Harry means the world to you, and he will never know. You are not the kind of girl who confesses her love to pop stars, not even when they are her best friends.

"Y/N, are you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm still here. I was just thinking about something."

"Well, stop thinking. We're going to see each other in a couple of hours." He is smiling; you can hear it in his voice.

***

When you enter the venue, the excitement inside of you is unbearable. The atmosphere is incredible, and the crowd is so full of life and happiness. Everyone is happy to be here, and so are you.

You find your seat, which is very close to the stage, and sit down. As you wait for the concert to start, you keep looking at the stage, wondering what Harry is doing right now.

Suddenly, the lights go down, and the crowd goes wild. You join in and clap your hands, your heart racing with anticipation. The stage is still dark when Harry walks onto it, and the screams get even louder.

The opening song sounds through the speakers, and the crowd sings along with Harry. You sing along, too, and the feeling is indescribable. To hear his music live and to see the passion in his face, while he performs his songs, makes your heart melt. You can't take your eyes off him.

The next couple of songs are even more amazing, and the atmosphere is incredible. Harry seems to enjoy himself and interacts with the crowd a lot. After the fifth song, he walks to the front of the stage, looks around, and scans the crowd.

"It's great to see all your beautiful faces." He smiles his crooked smile. "There are a lot of you tonight."

You feel his eyes on you, but it's dark and the crowd is dense, so you're not sure if he really saw you. You decide not to get your hopes up, but your heart is beating faster.

"Now, this is the part of the show where I tell you a story." Harry says into the microphone, and the crowd starts screaming again. You hear a few people chant "I love you" and others calling his name.

"So, let's see. This story is about a friend of mine. A friend I haven't seen in a long time." Harry pauses and looks around again. "She is somewhere here tonight."

The crowd is silent for a moment, but then everyone is talking and pointing at each other. You feel a blush creeping into your cheeks and your pulse quickens. You can't believe that he is doing this, but you're happy about it.

"So, this friend. She is the reason why I'm here, on this stage. She has always supported me, always believed in me. Even when I didn't believe in myself." He pauses and takes a sip of water. "We went to school together. She helped me through everything. But when I became famous, I started to neglect her." The crowd interrupts him with a loud booing. "Yeah, I know. That was stupid of me. But she never gave up on me, and she is still my best friend. In fact, she's my favourite friend. I'm sorry, everyone." The crowd laughs and cheers.

You are amazed and speechless. He really did this for you. And the fact that he still considers you his best friend is the best thing that has happened in a while. You can't help it, but tears are falling down your cheeks, and your hands are shaking. Harry walks back to the middle of the stage, and the show continues.

After the concert is over, you stay in your seat. There is still a lot of time until the arena will be empty, and you're not sure what to do. Suddenly, your phone rings, and it's a number you don't recognize.

"Hello?"

"Hi, love." He sounds a little out of breath, and your stomach does a flip.

"Hey, Harry. That was an amazing show. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome. So, did you enjoy it?"

"I loved it."

"I'm so happy. Listen, are you still at the arena?"

"Yes, I am. Why?"

"Okay, so I will come to you. Wait for me, okay?"

"What do you mean, you're coming to me? Are you going to walk out into the arena, looking for me?"

"Exactly. So, wait for me."

"Harry, that's not possible. The arena is full of people. I'm not going to sit here and let you lose your way."

"Trust me, Y/N. I'll be fine. Just wait for me."

And then, he is gone.

You put your phone back into your bag and look around. The crowd has already thinned out a bit, and there are a few people around you. You get up and stand at the end of the row. People are walking past you and talking to each other.

Suddenly, someone grabs your wrist, and you turn around. Your eyes grow wide and your mouth falls open.

"H-Harry..."

"Hi, love. Sorry it took so long. I got a little lost."

You can't believe that he is standing in front of you, looking like a god in his black outfit. He has a beanie on his head, and his eyes are sparkling. Without thinking, you wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in his shoulder. He hugs you back, and you can't help but inhale his scent.

"I missed you," you say.

"I missed you, too. Now, how about we get out of here?"

"Good idea. Where are we going?"

"Somewhere private."

"Sounds good to me."

He lets go of you and takes your hand. Together, you leave the arena and head for the stage door. Outside, there is a huge crowd waiting, but his security team has already cleared the way, and the fans are standing behind the barriers. He smiles at them and waves. They are screaming, and the paparazzi are taking pictures.

He guides you through the crowd and towards the car park. A black car is waiting, and he opens the door for you. You get in, and he slides in after you. The driver starts the engine, and the car pulls away from the curb.

"Where are we going?" you ask.

"My hotel. We're staying in London for two more nights. I have a suite with a view of the city."

"That's nice. I hope the view is nice, too."

"You're going to like it." He looks at you, and your heart skips a beat.

You reach the hotel, and the driver stops the car. Harry gets out first and holds the door open for you. You step out and look up at the huge building. The entrance is illuminated, and there are a lot of people coming and going.

He takes your hand and leads you into the lobby. Nobody pays attention to you, and it's a relief. You don't want people staring at you. He guides you towards the elevators and presses the button. A moment later, the doors slide open, and you step into the elevator. He presses the button for the top floor and then looks at you.

"I'm sorry it has been such a long time."

"It's okay, Harry. I know that you have a busy life. And I'm really proud of you."

"Thank you. It means a lot to me." He steps closer to you, and your breath hitches. He lifts his hand and brushes a strand of hair from your face. His touch sends shivers down your spine, and you feel yourself blushing.

The elevator doors open, and he leads you to his suite. He opens the door and lets you inside. You are amazed by the beautiful room. There is a huge bed, a seating area with a fireplace, and a balcony with a spectacular view.

"Wow, this is amazing."

"I knew you'd like it." He grins and takes your hand again. "Come on, let's sit down."

He guides you to the seating area on the balcony and sits down. You sit down next to him and take a deep breath.

"How long have we known each other?"

"Since we were ten."

"It's been twenty years, and we're still friends."

"Best friends," you correct him.

"Yes, best friends."

"Even when I neglected you."

"Hey, don't do that. You didn't neglect me. You were just busy."

"Busy doesn't even cover it."

"Stop it. We're still friends. That's what matters."

"I know, but I was stupid. And I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Harry. Let's stop apologizing. I wanna enjoy being here with you." You say with a twinkle in your eyes. You lean back and look at the skyline. The city is lit up and looks beautiful. You can hear the traffic below, but it's a distant noise. The moment is magical, and you are enjoying every second of it. He puts his arm around you, and you lean against his shoulder. You sigh happily and close your eyes.

"Hey, are you tired?" he asks.

"No, just relaxed."

"Okay. Well, I have a question for you."

"Ask away."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"That you love me."

Your eyes fly open, and your heart stops. He is looking at you, and his expression is serious. You swallow hard and try to think of an answer. But your brain doesn't cooperate, and you can't speak.

"W-what are you talking about?" You stutter.

"I'm talking about the fact that you are in love with me."

"No, I'm not. Why would you think that?"

"Because it's obvious. I saw it tonight at the concert. When I talked about you."

"Oh."

"You looked shocked and then so happy. It's the same look I have when I'm thinking about you." You can't believe what he is saying. Does he really mean it? Or is he just playing with your emotions?

"Why didn't you ever tell me? Because of my job?"

"No, it's not that. I just...I didn't want to ruin our friendship. You're the most important person in my life, and I didn't want to lose you."

"Oh, love. You will never lose me."

"Promise?"

"Promise." He leans closer to you and places a soft kiss on your cheek. Your heart is racing, and the butterflies in your stomach are going crazy. He pulls away, and you can see the sparkle in his eyes. His gaze drops to your lips, and he smiles.

"Y/N, can I kiss you?"

"Yes," you whisper.

He cups your face with his hands and leans in. Your eyes flutter closed, and his lips touch yours. The kiss is slow and gentle. His lips are soft and taste like mint. You feel a tingle in your stomach, and you can't help but sigh. His tongue darts out and caresses your lips. You open your mouth, and he slips his tongue inside. Your tongues tangle together, and the kiss becomes more passionate. When you finally pull apart, you are breathing heavily. He smiles and strokes your cheek.

"That was amazing," you say.

"Yes, it was. And it's about time." He laughs.

"It's been a long time coming." You grin.

"Yes, it has."

He pulls you into his arms and kisses your temple. You lean against his chest and breathe in his scent. It feels so right to be here with him. After all these years, you finally feel like you belong.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks.

"About the fact that I don't wanna go home."

"Who said you have to?"

"What do you mean?"

"Stay with me tonight."

"Really?"

"Yes. Stay the night. I don't want you to leave."

"Okay."

"Great. Let's go inside."

He stands up and takes your hand. You follow him into the suite and sit down on the bed. He sits down next to you and strokes your cheek. You look into his eyes and see the same desire that you feel. You lean in and kiss him. His lips are warm and soft, and his tongue feels amazing. Your body is tingling, and you can't get enough. You wrap your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss. He pulls you closer and kisses you passionately. Your bodies are pressed together, and you can feel his arousal. You moan and rub your body against his. He breaks the kiss and looks at you. His eyes are dark with lust, and his pupils are dilated.

"Mhm, Y/N. You're driving me crazy." He pulls you into his lap and kisses you again. His hands roam your body, and you arch your back. He slips his hand under your shirt and cups your breast. You gasp and close your eyes. He squeezes your breast and rolls your nipple between his fingers.

"Oh God," you moan.

"Do you like that?"

"Yes. It feels so good."

He keeps massaging your breast while kissing your neck. You grind your hips against him, and he groans. You can feel his erection, and it turns you on even more. He moves his hand to your other breast and starts massaging it.

He pushes you onto the bed and gets on top of you. His hands move under your shirt, and he pulls it off. You arch your back and expose your breasts. He licks his lips and leans down to kiss your nipples. He sucks on one and flicks his tongue over the other. You moan and dig your nails into his back.

He moves his hand down to your pants and starts undoing the button. He pulls them down, along with your panties, and tosses them aside. He looks at your naked body and smiles.

"You're so beautiful."

He leans down and kisses you. His tongue darts out, and he runs it over your lips. You part your lips and let him inside. He explores your mouth and moans.

"Mhm, I want you."

"Then take me," you say.

He pulls his shirt off and throws it aside. He undoes his pants and pushes them down. He kneels between your legs and looks at you. You can see his erection through his boxers. You bite your lip and reach out. You run your hand over his bulge and feel the heat. He groans and closes his eyes.

"Y/N."

"Yes?"

"I want you so bad."

"Then take me."

He quickly pulls his boxers down before he grabs your hips and pushes you further onto the bed. He lies down on top of you and kisses you. His erection rubs against your core, making you gasp.

"God, you're so wet." He moves his hand between your legs and strokes your clit. You moan and buck your hips. He positions his cock at your entrance and pushes in. You gasp and close your eyes. His cock fills you up completely, and you feel complete.

He starts moving slowly, and you cling to him. He kisses you deeply and groans. He moves faster, and you cry out. You wrap your legs around his waist and arch your back.

"Yes, Harry. Right there. Please."

He pounds into you harder, and you feel yourself approaching the edge. Never had sex felt this right.

"I'm gonna come."

"Come for me, love."

You scream his name and climax. Your body trembles, and you shudder. He moans and buries his face in your neck. You feel his release, and he collapses on top of you.

"God, Y/N. That was amazing."

"It was."

He rolls off of you and pulls you into his arms. You snuggle against his chest, and he kisses your forehead.

"So, this is where we've been heading since day one, huh?" You chuckle.

"Well, yeah. I just didn't expect it to take twenty years."

"Yeah, me neither."

"And I also thought we'd be more cautious about it." Harry laughs realising he completely forgot to use a condom.

"I don't know, I just didn't care."

"Yeah, me neither."

You kiss his cheek and rest your head on his chest.

"Harry?"

"Hm?"

"Will we be able to make this work? I mean, with our lives and everything?"

"We'll figure it out. I'm not letting you go."

"Good."

You close your eyes and listen to his heartbeat. He is holding you tight, and you can't imagine being anywhere else. You kiss his chest and slowly drift off to sleep in his arms.

[madelynraemunson]

Bonus scene 𓆩♡𓆪

from the CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT universe (18+)

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

timeline: 015, THIS SCENE, 016** | ** = smut

Eddie has an important question to ask you on your birthday.

contains: fluff, physical touch, flirting, loverboy!eddie, romantic eddie, implied history of abuse from billy

wc: 1k words

*play this while you read to really be immersed in st nostalgia* 🥹 (if you want)

♡

“Oh no,” you breathe.

Everything starts to make more sense when you see Steve waiting for you at Hellfire’s doors. He’s got the smuggest look on his face. You quickly try to turn and run the other way, already embarrassed. But the former Star Athlete is faster, immediately lunging at you to drag you into the club.

“Nope!” Harrington protests.

“Steve-” you begin.

“No no no no,” he shakes his head. “Where do you think you’re going, young lady?”

They’re all gonna see you like this. You hate to admit it, but you had just spent your entire commute crying — evident by your raccoon eyes — because you thought everyone (except for Billy) had forgotten your birthday.

Robin and Vicky were already out of the house by the time you woke up. Max, you assumed, got a ride from Steve to their new barista job. Chrissy turned down a pre-shift ‘Hot Girl Walk’, and Eddie never called. It was starting to feel like the most Adult birthday ever, but by a long shot not the worst.

“Put me down!” you persist.

Birthdays suck. Especially when you share one with your abuser. But you’re in a new era now. An era where you are loved, celebrated, and protected.

“SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SHY GIRL!”

You’re bombarded by obnoxious kazoos and party hats, streamers and confetti in all shapes and colors, and what looks like a homemade birthday cake in Jane (Mike’s girlfriend)’s hands, decorated with funky, florescent candles, and crafty red hearts that overpowered every inch of the thick white fondant.

“Oh my god,” you beam.

Max, Robin and Vicky. Chrissy, Argyle, Nancy, Jonathan, and Henry. Will, Lucas, Dustin, Mike, Jane, and Erica who also just had a birthday (she turned 18 last week). Steve. Gareth, Jeff, and Grant. All the faces you’ve grown to know and love since moving to Hawkins, all together in one room to celebrate YOU.

“We were trying so hard to keep this a secret,” Steve explains as he gives you a hug. “I’d say we did a pretty good job.”

“Yeah sorry we couldn’t get a better location,” Mike adds. “Chuck E Cheese was fully booked so Hellfire was the next best thing.”

“You guyssss,” you begin to sob. “This is oddly perfect. Thank you.”

“Well,” Jane says. She holds the cake up to your face. “There's no sense in waiting any longer. Make a wish!”

You close your eyes. I wish for life to always be this peaceful.

And when you open your eyes, you see Eddie in front of you, with a beautiful rose bouquet and a bag in his hands.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

His eyes are twinkling like a kid who woke up early on Christmas morning. You greet him with a warm hug to which he uses that opportunity to affectionately rub your back. You hear some soft “aww”s in the background, but you’re too infatuated with the man in front of you to jokingly scorn at whoever said it.

“How’d you know it was my birthday?” you ask him.

“You can find out lot of stuff from paperwork,” Eddie winks at you. “Specifically your resume. Which, might I say, is very impressive.”

“Why, thank you, sir,” you giggle.

You can tell the sir made Eddie’s stomach do somersaults. Completely blushing now, he hands you your gift in the form of a bag, ushering you to open it — right here — in front of everybody.

"You didn't have to..." you mutter quietly.

You take the bag from him.

"Yet… I did," Eddie spews confidently. He watches as you unwrap your gift. “I’d get you strippers but then it’d feel like work. And your bday should never feel like work.”

You nudge him as you roll your eyes. Such a fucking cornball.

But then you become the cornball. A tear begins to form in your eyes when you look at all your gifts. The roses. A custom metalhead Build-A-Bear with a leather jacket and jeans whose certificate reads “Eddie Bear”, and a gold plated charm bracelet from Everlasting Memories with your name engraved on it. But just when you think you had everything, Eddie scoops up the last one from the bottom. It’s a small wooden sign with a message on it.

CAN I BE YOUR BOYFRIEND?

“Oh my god…” is all you can say.

His voice is as gentle as the fingers he uses to patiently graze your arm. "So can I?"

The tear that formed in your eye finally trickles its way down your rosy red cheeks. "Of course you can."

Then you two share a kiss, eliciting an even louder swarm of “aww”s than the ones before, and generating a reaction from nearby, a very curious dancers.

“I hope you know how special you are to each and every one of us,” Eddie says to you. “Especially me, haha.”

You wipe the happy tears away from your eyes.

“It sure feels like it.”

Eddie gives you the day off and you use it to stuff your face and play board games with all your friends. Eventually after the short festivities you stay behind to chill with everyone for a bit. Then you go your own way to start making dinner, which you insisted on, at home.

When you get home, you’re surprised with another text message from Billy.

Billy Hargrove

I’d say the move has helped us a lot. I have room to miss you 🤣

You smile as you answer back.

To be better days ❤️ Happy birthday, brother. I miss you tons.

Billy Hargrove loved “To better days ❤️ Happy birthday, brother. I miss you tons.”

After your convo with Billy, you make your way over to the freezer to grab and defrost the chicken. Tonight’s menu consists of chicken, greens, and potatoes for dinner, followed by some birthday muffins Bob Newby had his bakers make at his coffee shop (courtesy of Max and Steve) for dessert.

Next, you begin to set the table, making sure to make seven settings for tonight: you, Max, Robin, Vicky, one for Eddie, and one for Wayne.

And when you’re finally done, you take a look around your house that you have made a home with your sister and best friends. You’re finally home. Hawkins is home. And for the first time in a really long time, you can truly say you’ve had… a happy birthday.

🏷️ tag list: @chrrymunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @hideoutside , @motherfckerr , @jxpsi , @lindseyj23, @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @justinelittlewoodsworld , @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @kellyxo1 @emsgoodthinkin @winchester-angel @chloe-6123 , @redbarn1995 @angietherose @kiyastrf94 , @purplewitchcauldron @kellsck @joyfulfxckery @munsons-mayhem28 @dragonfire @emma77645 @drivelikenina @livosssblog @thinkingth0ts @hugdealer @ellielunamckay

[hoedamn-eron]

baby, please - little soccer players

Santi receives a frantic phone call from you.

Warnings: Mega fluffy. Word count: 946 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

Series Masterlist

Santi had come running to your apartment at the vague but frantic phone call he’d received from you.

He could barely understand what you were saying over your squealing, but his heart was racing, and a million thoughts were going through his mind, and he instantly thought that something was wrong, that you were in trouble.

Someone had broken into your apartment.

Something was wrong with the babies.

You had fallen and seriously hurt yourself.

But you opened your apartment as soon as he came knocking (and you use the term loosely, he was almost hammering your door down) and pulled him in by his shirt, your eyes sparkling with tears.

“What’s the matter, what’s wrong?” he immediately asked as you close the door behind you both, looking over you for injuries, his hands hovering over you but never really touching you.

You lead him to your couch, Santi spouting question after question at you before you eventually tell him to shut up as you push him on your couch and stand in front of him, grabbing his hands and placing them on your bump (you were barely sixteen weeks along, his hands could still cover your entire bump). Santi goes quiet, staring at his hands with wide eyes, as if he’d just discovered them.

You’d never done this before. Honestly, he’d never really felt the urge to touch or caress your bump in any way, shape or form. He knew they were his kids in there, but it felt...too intimate, too personal to just...touch you. You hadn’t said anything to him either, never really given him the permission to touch you whenever he wanted, not like Frankie did with Sarah when she was pregnant.

But you didn’t seem to have a problem with it right now, as you watched his face carefully, just waiting.

That’s when he felt it. The small flutter under his palm, like the delicate brush of butterfly wings; it was barely there, and if he wasn’t so focused on his hands, he would have missed it.

But then it happened again.

And again, a bit more firmly.

“Is that...” he breathed.

“I noticed it this afternoon,” you whisper excitedly. “At first, I thought it was gas, honestly. I was super embarrassed that I was just gonna fart in front of everyone in the office.”

Santi gave a breathy chuckle, his hands still on your bump as he felt the twins nudge at him.

“I’ve been sat on my couch for two hours just...feeling them,” you say. “Just to make sure it wasn’t gas.”

“That explains why you called me in tears,” Santi said, giving you a pointed look. “Near enough gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you say, giving him a sheepish smile. “I was just excited, and I wanted you to experience it too!”

Santi was filled with a complex blend of emotions, from the uncertainty of the future with kids, but also the excitement that this journey was going to bring him. You both go silent again, as he concentrated on the sensations beneath his palms. Twins. His twins. His kids. It was a revelation that added another layer to an already complicated situation. From a blind date that ended up a one-night stand, which led to the creation of two tiny lives.

The twins seemed to have created a rhythm of their own, dancing and somersaulting in the protective cocoon of your womb. Every kick and nudge send a wave of amazement and connection through you, along with the urge to protect them from all the evils and bad things in the world.

Santi marvelled at the fact that two distinct beings were growing, developing, and just made their presence known. It was as if they were communicating with just him, reassuring him that despite the unconventional circumstances, they were real and alive. A warmth spread through his chest. The doubts that once clouded his thoughts began to dissipate, replaced by an overwhelming sense of responsibility and wonder. A newfound determination settled in his heart.

“This is the weirdest but also most amazing thing I’ve ever felt,” Santi muttered after a while, sounding too loud in the quiet apartment.

“Is it weird because you know they’re actually in there now?” you ask him, grinning.

“Yeah, I’m getting flashbacks of watching Alien with Frankie back when we were in basic training.”

You laugh, before going quiet as Santi leans in to your bump.

“Hey, it’s me, your dad,” he says quietly. “You’re going insane in there. You practising your soccer moves? I’d prefer you to be in Little League, but you can do whatever you want.”

Your eyes fill with happy tears, and you bite your lip to stop the light sob that was growing in your chest. It had been a whirlwind couple of weeks, with your family, and the whole Craig situation (especially with how Santi had reacted to it), and you were glad nothing seemed to have changed between the two of you. He still wanted to be involved.

After a few more moments, Santi looked up to you. “Thank you for calling me.”

“It’s okay,” you say, wiping at your eyes quickly, your cheeks warming in embarrassment at being caught.

Santi smirked at you as he leaned away from your bump. “Aw, did I make you cry, cariño?” he teases.

“You wish,” you say, giving him a light shove. “It’s my hormones.”

“Sure, sure,” he says, smirking as he stands from your couch.

You turn away from him, heading towards your kitchen. “Well since you’re here, do you want to stay for dinner?”

You’d have him stay forever if you had it your way.

Tagged - @khonsulockley, @superficialfeelings, @othersideoftheparadise, @beezusvreeland, @itsmytimetoodream

[starsfic]

Hello love your love your fics with goldenlion, peachlion, or sunstone aka Azure x Wukong (I don’t know if the fandom has decided on their ship name yet). But I was hoping you could write a fic where Azure see Wukong get possessed by LBD and has to help in the fight to get him back.

Macaque was going to lose.

He had known it ever since the kid had pleaded with him to help them stop Lady Bone Demon. The kid didn't know this, but Macaque had allowed him his victories in their battles. The first fight, he had still been standing, but he had been tired. The next few, Macaque had been eager to push and pull and had left once he was satisfied. Except for the blown up engine.

They did not talk about the engine.

Sun Wukong was a different story.

Macaque was Wukong's equal, the moon to his sun, his shadow in everything. Subodhi would be given credit for teaching the Monkey King all his powers, but Macaque had helped him hone his powers, and Wukong had taught him back.

Macaque had taught Wukong how to make weapons out of magic. Wukong had taught Macaque how to fight with a staff.

Macaque had taught Wukong how to both focus and spread his power. Wukong had taught Macaque how to shapeshift.

Macaque had taught Wukong how to be the loudest. Wukong had taught Macaque how to be the quietest.

But for all their equal power, Macaque knew that, if push came to shove, the only battle he would lose was when he was fighting Wukong. That prophecy had come true every time they clashed, not even when they fought with weapons, not even when they fought over Wukong's heart.

It was happening right the fuck now, actually.

Macaque hit the ground, somersaulted, and started sprinting. His body ached with pain, begging him to curl up and accept the death wrapped in silver and blue. But he couldn't. He couldn't until the kid got the staff and the dragon girl was freed.

Why the fuck did he go along with this plan again?

A fist slammed down right in front of him before Macaque could think too hard on that. When the dust cleared, the frozen over blue eyes of the possessed Wukong glared up at him. Macaque pushed down the anger at the sight of him in blue and held up his fists. He was tired and running low. Now it was time for good old fisticuffs. "Okay," he said. "Come on, let's do this."

Wukong stared at him as if wondering if he was an idiot, before he moved, slowly. Hands rose and extended sharp claws. Macaque couldn't help a hiss at the sight. Monkeys don't usually have claws like that, but Wukong had grown them out in honor. Another point against him in the battle over Wukong's heart.

Another point to-

"Now, sunlight, please calm down." Before Macaque or Wukong could respond, a burst of power slammed into the monkey. Wukong didn't make a noise as he was thrown back, head over heels, until he landed on his feet.

Macaque didn't look back.

"Last I heard, you were dead." he said instead. He had been gleeful at the news.

"Good behavior," Before Macaque could point out that wasn't really an explanation, Azure leaned on his sword, eyeing Wukong. Macaque was surprised he hadn't lunged at them yet. "I heard my lover was wearing blue, and not the shade I like on him." The words were a nasty sting, just like when Macaque figured out who won the fight, and it certainly wasn't either monkey. "So I came to help."

He pushed it away.

"Good to hear."

Wukong tensed and the battle resumed.