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#and then i just didn’t really think about it for years
mytearsricochvtt · 2 days
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secret’s out || emily fox
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based on this request! got a bit carried away while writing it so i hope you like it nonny✨🤍🫶🏻
secrets out || emily fox
you and emily started dating around two years ago when your best friend alex morgan introduced the two of you during one of the uswnt team nights, when you were staying with alex before your move to arsenal since you had already sold your place and all your belongings were being shipped over to london.
you and emily had instantly clicked, spending the whole night in a quiet corner talking and getting to know each other. you had told her then that you were moving to arsenal, not wanting to pursue her without her having the whole picture. you still had a month till your move to london so emily suggested the two of you go on a few dates to see if there was anything more than that instant connection that you both felt.
six dates later you both knew there was something between the two of you so you both came to the decision to try and make things work between the two of you.
two years later the two of you were still going strong, the two of you visiting each other anytime either of you had a few days off, staying up late to talk to each other after a games. you were both willing to do whatever it took to make your relationship work.
-
it wasn't a surprise to you when one of the nights you two were on the phone that she was talking to you about moving teams, she wanted a challenge, she needed a move to better her skills. you told her that you would support her no matter what she chooses to do.
a week later she came to you and told you that she had made the decision to move clubs and she had already received an offer from a team abroad, she wouldn't tell you who the team was, instead telling you that you would find out soon.
that is why you didn't think of it when she showed up at your doorstep a week later you didn’t think anything of it, just thinking that this was her coming out to see you before she moved to whatever club it was she was going to.
later on that night when you were both laying in bed, you were cuddled into emilys side hand on her heart so you feel her heart beating, something that always clamed you down and lulled you to sleep.
"i am transferring to arsenal."
you froze, wondering if you had heard her right. you sat up and turned to look her, "you're what?"
"i'm moving to arsenal. technically i have already moved. i signed my contract yesterday when i first got here, and i know i should have talked to you about it first, i really wanted to but i wanted to surprise you. please don’t be mad at me!”
“em, calm down! i’m not mad at you, i promise i’m not!” you told her,
-
three weeks later emily had settled in well with the rest of the team, already knowing lotte and alessia from university, which made her transfer a lot smoother.
you had also enjoyed having your girlfriend around a lot more, no more late facetimes or trying to find some free time so you could see each other for a few days. one of your favourite things about emily being in london was that you could steal her clothes anytime you wanted to, you didn't need to wait until you see her again or beg her to send you some of her hoddies.
so, any chance you got you would wear them. instead of wearing your training gear, you would wear emily's. you would never admit this to her since you thought it was kind of weird, but you had missed the smell of her. so much so that you had even went out and bought the perfume she wears, so when her jumpers no longer smelled of her you would spray a few pumps of it onto the jumper, so you could cuddle into it when you were going to sleep.
if you thought about it hard enough, it was like she was she was laying right next to you. but if she was to ever find out about that, you would deny it until your last breath.
every morning when you would arrive at training, you would put yours and emily's things in both of your lockers, then you would meet her in the cafeteria where she would already have your breakfast waiting for you.
normally the two of you would be sat at a table tucked away from everyone else. but this time when you went to join her, she was sat with lotte, beth, katie and caitlin. which you didn't mind, happy that she felt comfortable enough to do so.
you saw that she had saved you a seat so you made your way over to her, smiling at the fact that she had gotten you an extra slice of toast, knowing that you were not much of a fan of the breakfast that was being served that day.
when you sat down next her, you whispered a small 'hi' to her while you placed a quick peck to her temple.
she stopped mid sentence to kiss you quickly before she finished what she was saying.
you both missed the confused looks that your teammates gave you both, glancing at each other to see if any of them new about the two of you. since you both missed the weird looks they gave you both, you asked them if they knew what the team meeting was going to be about. when none of them answered you, that is when you saw the looks they were giving you.
"what? what is wrong? why are you all looking at me like that?" you asked, suddenly aware of all the eyes that were on you.
none of them spoke for couple of seconds, they would look at you then look at emily, look at you then look at emily, it went on like that until beth was the one who spoke up.
"since when did- since when were you a couple? and why have none of us knew about it?" beth questioned, while the other girls hummed in agreement.
" it has been two years, coming up for three in a couple of months. why? did none of you know?" you asked them, you assumed that they all knew that you and emily were a couple, since you always talked about her to anyone who would listen.
"no! we just thought that you were best friends!" caitlin says, "it made sense to us since you both played for the same team before you both moved here. i can't believe none of us figured it out!"
"i bet you all feel very stupid right now," emily teased, throwing an arm around your shoulder while she kissed your cheek.
"secret is out i guess."
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jamminvroomvroom · 2 days
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4k celebration
congrats on 4k love - your writing is absolutely worth all of the hype and even more!!! i adore your work and so look forward to even more people discovering it.
i was hoping to request a lewis fic?? i’m such a slut for a good enemies to lovers situation, so maybe along the lines of reader is a fair bit younger than lewis, but there’s been all of this tension btwn them and it all boils over one night (smuttyyyyy) 🥴
we made up.
LH x fem!rival reader - 4k celebration
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in which you can never just bite your tongue
eeeeek i love this request! thank u sm anon for ur sweet words, ur so lovely i hope i’ve done this justice for you! writing for lewis terrified me so this might not be my best work but we move! more lewis requests to come, let me know what you think <3
songs to set the mood: stargirl interlude by the weekend & lana del rey
warnings: 18+!! minors go away!! smut, swearing, degradation, praise, dom!lewis, some switch!reader, implied age gap, slightly inexperienced reader, enemies to lovers, blink n you’ll miss it size kink
2.6k words
you hide admiration with a scowl, curling into yourself, as far away as you can get from him. the couch seems to get smaller and smaller with every overly intelligent, carefully thought out word he says. each sentence seems to be coated in a thick layer of i don’t give a fuck. you don’t know how he’s so good a toeing the line.
after six years in f1, you still couldn’t work out why you didn’t like lewis hamilton.
maybe it was his cool confidence, the way he never lacked composure, while you were called an unhinged, delusional woman by every incel on twitter for so much as breathing. maybe it was his sky high stack of trophies, championships, podiums, wins. you weren’t even halfway close to touching his records. maybe it was the way he was diabolically, inhumanly gorgeous, a truly breathtaking creature. you paled in every single way compared to lewis, so how could you even begin to like him?
it was silly, really, pathetic even, feeling such childish disdain just because he was better than you. he was older, more refined, iconic in every single way that you weren’t. perhaps you’d get there one day, but you simply weren’t there yet.
you’re sat beside him in the press conference, sharing the couch with him, alex, lando, charles and max. it wasn’t the worst combination in the world, but anytime you had to sit in front of a gaggle of hawk-eyed journos and a million cameras with lewis, something unfortunate usually happened. never by design, but you just weren’t very good at saving face in front of the mercedes driver.
“do you think the podium is a possibility this weekend?” someone from autosport whose name you can’t remember asks.
“i’m hoping so, just need to keep the mercs behind us again, but i don’t think that will be that hard.” you respond, without even a sliver of a filter. the material of the sofa shifts as lewis tenses up beside you, inhaling sharply at your blatant disrespect. somewhere beside you, lando sniggers, and max is rolling his eyes.
it was no secret that you didn’t have the softest spot in the world for sir lewis.
“that’s assuming your car makes it to the end of the race.” lewis clears his throat, speaking with confident conviction. you turn you head to glare at him, painfully unable to take what you give. alex slaps his hand over his mouth.
“at least my car isn’t so bad that i’d rather go and learn the alphabet down at ferrari.” you scoff. you avoid the eyes of your comms officer, because if looks could kill, you’d be six feet under already.
“i think we’ll leave it there.” tom clarkson suggests, and you stand from the panel and storm away on trembling legs with a terrible ache throbbing between them.
there’s something about the pettiness, the reasonless back and fourth you two always seem to partake in that leaves you in need of a cold shower.
-
turns out, you have to apologise.
you spend the better part of an hour being bollocked by your press team, who, for some reason, don’t find it particularly amusing that you’d somehow managed to insult the lewis hamilton, ferrari, and mercedes in the span of two sentences.
so, there you were, begrudgingly trailing towards lewis’s hotel room. it’s on the top floor, because of course it is, it’s him. he oozes expensive exclusively, naturally above the rest. you twist your rings nervously, increasingly terrified of being in a confined space alone with the gorgeous brit. your knuckles rap gently against the wood of his door, intentionally weakly. you pray he won’t hear you and that you can just disappear back into the elevator and into your room, to pathetically let you hands wander between your clenched thighs.
but god laughs, and the door swings open. lewis seems startled by your presence, just for a moment though, leaning cooly against the doorframe. his lips pull into a faint smile. two things alarm you. first of all, he’s shirtless, bare from the waist up, a plethora of delicious tattoos on display for you to feast your eyes on. secondly, and somehow even worse, he’s panting, clearly just back from a work out in the gym. he glistens with sweat, and your mind goes blank, apologetic words die on your tongue.
“something to say, angel, or are you just here to stare?” lewis teases, the words rolling off his tongue smoothly. you pray for the ground to gape open, swallow you hole, suck you into hot lava.
“well, i was gonna apologise but i don’t think you deserve it.” you sneer, crossing your arms over your chest accusingly.
“didn’t think you knew how to apologise.” lewis grins sarcastically, mocking you.
“has anyone told you how arrogant you are?” you bite back, eyes narrowing.
“why don’t you come in here and i’ll show you just how arrogant i can be?” his voice has dropped a few octaves, seductive and low.
the proposition, the suggestion behind his words makes you fold immediately. you’d wondered for far too long about what he was like behind closed doors and under thick bedsheets, and if you had the chance at finding out, you’d be imbecilic not to take it.
you shove his muscled chest, pushing him back into his room. his hands find your waist, pulling harshly at the material of your loose t-shirt. he’s watching you intently, mesmerised by the angry flush on your cheeks tinging you pink. your eyes convey hunger, matching his, and you’re forcing him down to sit at the foot of his bed.
“why are you such an asshole?” you hiss, slotting your knees on either side of his so that you’re straddling him.
“probably the same reason you’re such a little bitch.” lewis growls, tugging you forward harshly on his lap. you feel his work out shorts ride up on his thighs, the material sensitive on your skin.
your pupils blow wide at his words, and you’re kissing him hard, teeth and tongues clashing messily. his lips are so soft, pillowy as they brush aggressively with your own and you lick wetly into his awaiting mouth. he’s addictive, minty, and you fall against his bare chest as he leans back into the mattress.
“i think you need to be taught some manners.” lewis grunts, flipping your bodies over like you’re nothing, and slotting against your body like a missing piece.
“i think the same could be said about you.” you breathe, sliding your hand under the waistband of his shorts. he chuckles quietly, the rumble reverberating through your own chest, cracking you open.
“try your best.” he whispers. your eyes roll back.
truth is, you’re not the most experienced person in the world. yes, you’re in your mid twenties, but a long term relationship with the worlds biggest loser and dedicating your life to a career in a boys club meant that you didn’t have the time to develop broadest set of skills. you didn’t have the luxury of letting loose in a nightclub with a stranger because if that information got into the wrong hands, you’d be slut-shamed off the face of the earth. so now, you found yourself a little bit lost under a literal sex god.
as if he can hear your thoughts, lewis pulls back.
“what’s the matter? do you want me to stop?” he’s softer than he ever has been with you, melting away in your hands, but you draw him back in, tightening your grip on the band of his shorts.
“no, no, i just…” the words die on your tongue. something in your eyes gives him all the information that he needs.
“do what feels right, good.” his nose brushes your jaw, kissing over it and you settle back into the moment.
“teach me a lesson.” you whisper, empowered in his hands, and he springs back into action, his demeanour slipping right back into what it had been.
“is that why you’re so bad in interviews? just want me to fuck some respect into you?” his lips tug amusedly when you nod rapidly up at him.
an experimental roll of his hips makes you keen, hand slipping into his braids and pulling hard. his eyes fall shut, lips parting to let out a soft groan, his eyebrows pinching from the rough pleasure. your fingers graze over the skin of his toned belly, finding sensitive skin that makes him shiver.
“you distracted, lew?” you taunt, with the only intention of riling him up.
his eyes snap open, hard and lacking any sort of warmth, and he tears your hands from where they rest on his firm body, swiftly pinning them above your head with one hand. he plants himself on one knee, balancing himself so that he can fiddle with the button of your shorts. he makes quick work of removing them, forcing the zipper down and skilfully manoeuvring them with just the one hand.
once they’re gone, along with the lace of your underwear, he forces your thighs apart, and slides his fingers along the seam of your cunt, slicking them up. you’re soaked and he momentarily falters, but he doesn’t let himself get too visibly affected.
“fuck, you’re so wet. been thinking about me, angel?” he teases mercilessly, as he rocks the first thick digit into you, twisting and curling until he finds the spot that makes you buck your hips.
“nothing to say now, hm?” lewis tuts, wetting his lips. the feeling of you squeezing so tight around just one of his fingers makes him choke out a moan. you can feel his hot breath fanning over your face, your eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of him filling you up.
“more.” you breathe, stuttering over just one word. he revels in how he’s managed to reduce you to this so quickly.
“you sure you can take it, angel? so fucking tight.”
“make me.” you plead, parting your strained thighs even wider for him.
he lets go of your hands, snaking down your body to get himself closer to where you’re dripping already.
“keep them there.” lewis orders, and you grip tightly onto the pillows to exercise restraint.
lewis presses his forearm over the plush of your belly, holding you down as he adds a second finger, watching in awe as it slips so effortlessly into your pussy. you’re mewling, fighting to buck your hips but the firm press of his muscled arm keeps you in place.
“so pretty for me, angel, soaking my fingers.” he notes, entranced at how responsive you are for him.
“want you inside of me, lew.” you whine, knuckles paper white where you’re fighting off the urge to reach down and touch him.
“wait.” he snarls, ramming his fingers even harder, grinding against the soft spot buried deep. “you’re gonna cum like this first.”
with that, he removes the barricade of his arm, bringing his spare hand to your clit, the pad of his thumb drawing calloused circles into the bud. you lose it, grinding down on his fingers like a woman possessed.
“that’s it, sweetie, fuck yourself for me.” lewis encourages, voice gravelly and low.
sparks shoot down your spine, nothing but white behind your eyelids as he lights you on fire. you can’t warn him, the words lost to the tense air of the room as you barrel towards your first release. he eases you through it, not letting up even a little bit, but it pays off when you can’t help but writhe against the cream of the bedspread.
“god.” you croak, flopping limp as he pulls out, crawling over you.
“learned your lesson?”
“not quite.” you flash an exhausted grin, abandoning your grasp on the pillows to slide them down his thick frame.
you trace the lion adorning his shoulder, the compass, each piece driving you further into utter delirium. your hands graze his waist, snaking around his abdomen until you reach the cross, tracing it until you reach words that keep him going.
still i rise the cursive reads, and he shivers as you rake your nails over it.
“fuck me.” you purr. your hands slide under his shorts once more, gripping at the curve of his ass. you push the material down over his thighs, and he happily kicks them away, his inked hands roughly spreading you even wider.
“desperate little thing, bet you go home after every race and fuck yourself silly wishing it was me, hm?” he adjusts himself between your legs, his thick cock nudging against you entrance, drenching himself in the mess he’d made.
you gasp out a moan as he slides deep, taking his sweet time. you can’t even comprehend his words, totally consumed by the brutally enticing stretch of him, your thighs shaking at the delectable intrusion. he hisses at the sensation of your tight warmth, his head falling to rest in the crook of your neck. lewis licks over the sensitive skin, trailing open mouthed kisses down to your collarbone. you feel the sharp graze of his teeth, gentle nips making you shudder on his cock.
“don’t leave a mark.” you choke, and lewis seems to get it, so he skims his teeth lower, sucking purple just over your heart.
you clamp down around him, allured by the tweak of pain, and it seems to spark something in him, his hips rolling into yours experimentally.
“you feel so fucking good.” lewis pants, his breath warm and wet on your neck.
“need you to move.” you plead, turning your head to capture his lips in an urgent kiss.
he pulls out, slamming back into you roughly, your tummy twisting with anticipation. lewis finds a rhythm that suits you both, hips hitting yours with every thrust, each one leaving you full and spent.
“gonna make sure you feel me for days.” he promises, yanking your legs over his hips. as he does, he hits deeper and you yelp, stars in your eyes. “when you sit in the car tomorrow, you’re gonna feel me and remember how to be a good fucking girl, not an attention seeking brat.”
you ramble his name, eyes flooding with tears of overstimulation, dumbfounded at how he seems to hit a new spot with every slide of his cock. he’s digging his fingers into the meat of your thighs, pulling your hips impossibly closer to his as he drives into you, as if he wants to become a part of you, moulded for an eternity. with the way your stomach knots, butterflies and adrenaline coursing through you, you’d comply; you’d let him do whatever he wanted to him anytime he wanted.
“‘m so close.��� you whine, pulling on every part of him your hands can reach. a refreshed sense of determination builds in his eyes and he presses hard on your navel.
“so deep, can see it.” lewis slurs, eyes fixed on your belly.
those five words make you unravel, sending you hurtling over the edge. he can’t help but fuck you through it, hammering home while you spasm around him so tight that he struggles to move.
“fucking addicted to this pussy.” lewis groans, burying himself as deep as he can go.
you’re utterly enchanted as you watch him reach his release, gnawing at your bottom lip when his part in a moan, allowing gentle puffs of air to escape. his long eyelashes rest delicately over his cheeks as his eyes fall shut, your name spilling out of his mouth like a needy prayer.
you’re warm from the inside out, flushed and full when he settles, pressing his body weight into you completely.
-
two weeks later, you’re in japan, bored senseless in yet another press conference. lewis sits further down the couch, and you have to cross your legs every time he speaks. no one seems to notice, except him, of course.
when it’s your turn to speak, and you’re asked all about your little spat with sir lewis back in australia, you shrug, smirking.
“we made up.”
-
oof
-
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atlabeth · 3 days
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true luck's kiss
pairing: luke castellan x daughter of tyche!reader
summary: luke is stuck with a streak of bad luck. what better way to get rid of it than with a child of tyche?
a/n: so this was supposed to come out on st patrick's day but unfortunately im the slowest writer in the world and ive also been doing nothing but watch basketball because we sleep in may. anyways here's a short fluffy blurb because it is getting way too sad in here with my hurricane fics lmao
wc: 1.2k
warning(s): none, this is all fluff. i know crazy coming from me
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You grimaced as you pulled the arrow back. Sweat dripped down your forehead and you itched to brush it away, but you ignored the urge as you let out a deep breath. 
“Just like that.” Kimia nodded as she stopped behind you. “Perfect angle—now let it fly.” 
You did, and the weight lifted off your shoulders once the arrow embedded itself in the center of the target. 
“Ending on a bullseye,” she said with a grin. “Great work.” 
“Only way to do it,” you said, smiling at her. “Am I a worthy opponent yet?” 
She chuckled and patted your shoulder as she moved on. “Maybe one day you’ll be as good as Cabin Seven. Today’s not that day.” 
You shook your head with a laugh and took your quiver off your back. “Keep telling yourself that!”
A bow and arrow had become your weapon of choice since the moment you stepped foot into camp, and you’d gotten good over the years—so much so that it was a surprise when your mother claimed you. One day, though, you would get an Apollo kid to admit you were better than them. 
You’d just finished putting all your equipment away, and when you turned back, you were met with a mess of brown curls and shining eyes.
“Luke,” you said, pleasantly surprised. “Didn’t know you were in archery today.”
He shook his head. “I’m not. I didn’t come here for archery—I came here for you.”
You chuckled as you gestured with your head, and he got the hint as you started walking together. “How forward of you.”
“It’s a living,” he said with a smile. “How was practice?”
“And small talk?” You pressed a hand to your heart and shook your head. “It must be my lucky day.”
Luke’s smile widened as he ran a nervous hand through his hair. “That’s what I came to talk to you about, actually. I do wanna hear about your day, though.”
You shrugged. “It was boring. Killed it at archery, nearly got killed on the climbing wall—I was gonna head back to the cabin to chill for a few hours before dinner, but it looks like you’ve taken that slot.” 
He chuckled. “So you are free?” 
“I’ve always got some time to listen to Luke Castellan,” you mused. “What’ve you got?” 
“I’m cursed,” Luke said. 
You stopped in your tracks and looked him right in the eye. “...Cursed.” 
He nodded. “I know it sounds stupid, but it’s gotta be true. I mean, nothing is going right for me. I’ve been off my groove with my sword, I’ve lost every canoe race, I nearly burnt my eyebrows off last time I was in the forge, and my team hasn’t won a game of capture the flag this entire month—” 
“I know,” you interrupted. “I’m in your cabin.” 
“So you know how bad my luck’s been lately!” he exclaimed with a gesture. “It— it was embarrassing, but now it’s just pathetic.” 
“You know I can’t fix it, right?” you said wryly. “I’m not my mom.” 
“That’s what Annabeth said,” Luke mumbled. “But— but I’ve seen the way you live—you’ve got luck on tap! Your strawberries are always the ripest, you somehow find drachmas on the ground, and your volleyball serves are better than anyone’s.”
“I play varsity back home,” you said. “No luck needed.”
“Still,” he emphasized, “you’re naturally lucky. You’ve literally got it in your DNA, and I’m fresh out of it. That’s gotta be worth something.” 
“Not really.” You crossed your arms. “So what do you think I can do about this?” 
Luke shrugged. “I dunno. Say something?" 
You barely managed to stifle a laugh. “Like what?” 
“Pray to Tyche,” he said. “You’re her only kid here—she’s gotta be listening.” 
You bit back your smile as you shook your head. “Fine. Just for you.” 
“Thank you,” Luke sighed, watching with bated breath as you cleared your throat, closed your eyes, and pressed your hands together. 
“Tyche, dearest mother, goddess of luck and fortune—I ask you to shine on Luke Castellan on this day. Smile upon my friend and break his very real curse. If you do this for him, in return, he will do all of my cabin chores for the next month.” 
When you opened your eyes, Luke looked quite unimpressed. “Very funny.” 
“Feel any luckier?” you asked with a smile as you started walking again. 
“I don’t think so,” he said, falling into step with you once more. “Especially because you’re putting conditions in your prayers. I didn’t know we could do that.” 
“My mom has a sense of humor,” you mused. “And I also think I might be her favorite.” 
“Not all of us have that privilege,” he said wryly. Suddenly, his eyes lit up, and he grabbed your arm to stop you.  
“I think I’ve got it,” Luke said. “How about a kiss?” 
Your eyebrows rose, but you couldn’t help showing your amusement. “Now it’s a kiss that’ll break your curse?” 
He shrugged. “Like I said—you’ve got luck in your DNA. Maybe you could pass that along.”  
“Really,” you said dryly. 
“I’ve kinda tried everything,” he said. “A kiss from a lucky and pretty girl is far from the worst option.” 
You chuckled. “You really know how to flatter ‘em.” 
“I try,” he grinned. “Are you up to it?” 
You bit your lip as you looked at Luke. Obviously, he was attractive—you’d always held an appreciation for his curls and the way they would constantly get in his eyes. He cut an impressive figure from constant, year-round training, and he even made the camp shirt look good. And gods, that damned smile got you. 
There were worse things than kissing you, and there were certainly worse things than kissing Luke Castellan. 
“Alright,” you sighed, taking a step forward. “Pucker up, Castellan.” 
Before you could really doubt yourself, you leaned forward and kissed him. You weren’t really expecting to actually… like it. 
Your first thought was that Luke’s lips were softer than they had any right to be. Your second thought was that his cologne was the scent always floating around the Hermes cabin. You didn’t really mind, though. 
Luke gently put his hand on the back of your head to keep you there, and the moment lasted much longer than you initially planned. You also didn’t mind, though your thoughts were far more muddled than they should’ve been when you finally managed to pull away. He seemed to have a gift for that. 
You felt your cheeks flush as you looked at him, not even trying to hide your smile. Turns out kissing Luke Castellan was actually pretty great. “Feel any luckier?” 
“Yeah,” he said with a soft grin, his eyes twinkling. You wondered if he had the same thought about you. “Yeah. I really do.” 
“I think that means it’s worked, then,” you said. 
Luke nodded with mock austerity. “We should probably stick together for the rest of the week, though. Just to make sure this bad luck goes away for good.” 
“You might be right,” you said. “And uh— you think you need an extra boost?” You glanced away as you bit back your smile. “Just to be safe and all. To really get rid of this curse.” 
“You know,” he drew your attention back to him as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and you leaned in closer. “I think I might.” 
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inuyashaluver · 2 days
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Hi lovely I love ur stuff 🩷 I have a little request/idea - obviously feel free to ignore it
I was thinking R has a really thick accent (English - either Scouse (Liverpool), Geordie (Newcastle) or West Country (Devon/Somerset/Farmer) or Aussie or something really thick like hard to understand from native speakers let alone anyone else) but R plays in Barca and has a crush on a Spanish player (Maybe Patri? maybe Ona? Maybe Alexia?) and is tryna talk to them more and maybe ask them out but they just get looked at funny and they walk off and she goes to Kiera and Lucy and is like what have I done? Do they all hate me? And [Crush] overheads them and goes round to their house after training and is like I really wanna get to know u, I think you’re really pretty etc but I cannot understand a word that comes out of ur mouth to the point where I am questioning whether it’s English
qué? - alexia putellas
alexia putellas x reader
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description: in which your accent proves to be difficult to understand
warnings: LONG!! swearing, misunderstandings, spanish in bold italics
a/n: i love this woman, your honour!! i was writing alexia angst but had to put out the fluff haha!! thank you so much for the love and request, lovely!! ily and enjoy ❤️
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you never thought your accent would get you into trouble but you were entirely wrong. and we’re not talking about trouble like criminal, we’re talking romantically.
you’re from liverpool, your thick, scouse accent distinct in your dialect. at home in england, the accent was understood most of the time, with an occasional person asking for clarification about your words but you didn’t mind.
even some of your england teammates had to ask you to repeat yourself occasionally when you got overly excited or stressed, your accent proving to be the hardest to understand at those moments.
you often needed a translator for even native english speakers if you spoke too quickly, lucy and later grace helping out when people were truly confused.
when lucy and keira moved from manchester city, you moved with them, having played in the club for 2 years and desperately wanting a change. and so, when the contract arrived from barcelona for the three of you, you accepted it without a second thought.
you had supported barcelona in liga F, having a huge appreciation for the way the spanish players moved, the quick passes and the goals that came out of nowhere. you were excited to pick up those skills to adapt to your own play.
and through your extensive research, you grew a special appreciation for alexia. in your eyes, alexia was the definition of perfect, not only her football skills, but her as a whole.
you would watch her interviews and videos for ‘research purposes’, claiming it was to practise your spanish. and it was, until you zoned out hearing the gentle hum of alexia’s voice, getting distracted entirely but you weren’t complaining.
when you got caught making heart eyes at your phone during england camp, the teasing was so relentless it wasn’t even funny.
“our little (y/n) has a crush on la reina! (the queen)” lucy exclaims in the change room, you immediately turn off your phone and look up at her with an icy glare, only making her smile at you affectionately with a pinch to your cheek that you were quick to swat away.
“you’re not much older than me” you glare, “5 years is 5 years” she shrugs, moving away when you launched an empty bottle at her.
“go on, tell us about your crush” leah smiles, millie and rachel pretend to kiss each other while looking at you and you heat up in the cheeks.
“i’m only watching so i can pick up spanish” you defend, lucy laughs loudly, out of the three transfers, she was definitely the one who picked up the most spanish.
“excuse me, lucia, and everyone in here,” you scoff, “is it such a crime to watch a video of my future captain?” your accent was so heavy at this point, everyone cracked a little smile at you.
“so you were watching videos of alexia then?” leah smirks, you let out a frustrated groan, “leah, shut up man” everyone laughs, the teasing continuing until keira and alessia told everyone to stop.
during the whole of camp, it wasn’t uncommon you got caught looking at photos or videos of alexia, the teasing was so bad you thought you would explode.
when the time finally came for you to join barcelona, you were incredibly nervous. the fear of underperforming playing on your mind, only becoming worse at the thought of embarrassing yourself in front of a certain blonde you couldn’t take your mind off.
lucy and keira assured you everything would be fine, but you weren’t convinced, unsure of how you’d react when you finally saw alexia.
when you all walked to the change rooms, it was shocking how welcoming everyone was. hugs and kisses to the cheeks had you feeling so accepted amongst your new team.
and funnily enough, the last person to greet you was alexia, sending you a charming smile that had your stomach erupting with butterflies.
“(y/n), yes? bienvenida! (welcome)” alexia grins, her arms pulling you into a warm hug, her scent enveloping you and making you borderline dizzy.
“(y/n) is a big fan of you” lucy teases as alexia lets you slip from the hug after you mumble a quick hello. alexia gives a surprised smile, looking between a cheeky looking lucy and a sheepish looking you.
“you’re very good, too, I look forward to playing with you,” alexia’s hand moved to give your bicep a gentle squeeze and you swore your heart stopped, your cheeks were tinged with pink and you could barely formulate a sentence.
“yeah, i’m excited to play with ya” you breathe out, you move to your new cubby and get changed into the barcelona kit, feeling at home already even though it was your first day.
due to you busying yourself with avoiding alexia, you missed the way her gaze lingered on you as you changed, she was intrigued by you.
what you didn’t know was alexia had done her own forms of research. she had heard your name countless times in the media, a rising star in the making.
she respected the way you played, a midfielder who wasn’t afraid to take risks but also managed to avoid fouls frequently.
she wanted to get to know you as much as you wanted to get to know her.
weeks and months fly by and it was easy to say you felt comfortable amongst the team. your spanish was surprisingly getting better, being able to go through training without a translator most of the time.
the girls reciprocated you well, you’d go to team bonding nights and laugh and joke around with them. it was obvious to everyone except alexia that you were harbouring a crush on the captain.
the ways your eyes would follow her every move with pink cheeks honestly exposed yourself. and what made it harder was that alexia and you were growing closer each day.
one day you were chatting with mapi and ingrid, more like you getting teased while you begged them to stop before you were interrupted by a certain someone.
“do you want to be my partner?” alexia questions from behind you suddenly, making you choke on your own spit as she looked at you with a kind smile. “really?” you breathe out, she nods, nodding her head to the pitch for you to follow her.
you’d both been able to converse easily as the months went by, she’d have to ask you to slow down a couple of times when you both talked about something you had in common but it worked.
as you both trained together, you chatted and laughed, talking about random topics.
when you both got to shooting practice, alexia analysed your every move. she would give little nods of approval when you touched the ball, sending you an encouraging smile if you made eye contact, your heart was fluttering around her.
“you should put more weight into your hips when you kick” alexia corrects, you look at her questioningly, she huffs out a little laugh and comes to stand behind you.
her large hands place themselves on your hips and she turns them slightly to the front. her front was pressed against your back and you certainly weren’t breathing. she noticed you tense but chose to ignore it.
“focus here before you kick so it’s stronger” alexia says next to your ear, squeezing your hips gently before letting go of you. “try again, vamos! (let’s go)” she exclaims, you do as she says with her corrections and it was a much better result.
she smiles proudly, “buena niña! (good girl)” she laughs, coming up to you to squeeze your shoulders encouragingly, your cheeks were burning.
the entire team watched the interaction with big grins, ready to tease you for how sheepish you looked.
“gracias (thank you), ale” you scratch the back of your neck with an embarrassed smile, she shakes her head, “it’s nothing, thank me with a goal next game” she jokes, pinching your cheek teasingly before walking off to get some water.
you’re left there in shock, lucy and keira approaching with cheesy grins. “you’re in love” lucy coos, poking your shoulder teasingly while you shielded yourself in a hug from keira.
“i’m so fucking stupid, why can’t i be normal” you groan, keira laughs, her hand rubbing up and down your back. “you’re just shy, which is weird to see because you’re the complete opposite” she laughs, you pull back to throw her a glare.
“it’s cute” lucy chuckles, “i can’t wait to tell everyone about the development” she grins, her and keira share a hearty laugh seeing your face go pale, while you attempted not to scream.
“don’t you fucking dare” you grit out, “i won’t” lucy winks, unfortunately she did and by the time training was over, your phone was blowing up with text messages talking about the interaction.
you looked at lucy with a stone cold glare while she blew you a kiss, alexia watched how angry you were, she could practically feel it radiating off you on the other side of the change room.
“estás bien? (are you okay)” alexia walks up to you, holding a cold drink out to you. you take it after a moment of hesitation, “uh, yeah, sí” you smile, “lucia is annoying you?” alexia grins, looking over at lucy to see her and keira whispering while looking at you. “yes, she’s very annoying” you grumble, your eyebrows furrowing.
alexia smiles fondly at you, her hand moving to your face, her thumb smoothing out the crease between your eyebrows. “wrinkles” she tutts, your breath caught in the back of your throat as you looked up at her.
“are you coming tonight?” she says like she didn’t just make you flatline. she’s talking about a team bonding session at her house. “yeah, i think so” you smile at her, “think or know?” she teases, was she flirting with you?
“know, i’ll be there” you mock, she nods with a pleased expression, “hasta luego, lindura (see you later, cutie)” she winks, moving to grab her bag from her cubby and leave, making sure to look back at you another time with a soft smile before walking out.
you get pulled out of your trance once you hear your phone blowing up again, checking it to see lucy had recorded you watching alexia leave. you throw your head back in frustration but chose to avoid letting the older girl feel your wrath, you were still on a buzz from the thought of alexia flirting with you.
when you arrived at alexia’s house, you brought her a bottle of wine with a sheepish grin. when she opened the door for you, she pulled you into the warmest hug, both of you fitting together like a puzzle.
“finalmente! (finally) i was waiting for you!” she grins as she pulls away, taking the wine out of your hands and grabbing one of yours to drag you into the living room where everyone was.
her hand was so warm against yours, soft against your skin and you really didn’t want her to let go. “you look beautiful” alexia smiles before she ushers you to sit down, you barely had the time to tell her how breathtaking she looked, dressed casually but still looking like she could be on the front of a magazine.
you sit next to mapi and she immediately bombards you with questions, “have you kissed yet?” she questions, you slap her knee, “ingrid, your girlfriend is a bully” you huff, ingrid laughs, nodding along with you with an apologetic smile.
everyone was watching a movie while eating, alexia sitting beside you, the two of you would chat back and forth with small giggles and smiles shared between you.
by the time the night was ending, alexia’s arm was resting behind you on the couch, basically over your shoulder while you were in your own little bubble.
when you left that night, you couldn’t stop thinking about all the interactions you had with the catalan, you needed to do something about it. fast.
on a match day for barcelona, you decided it was time for you to tell her about your feelings. it was clear you were flirting with each other. confirmed during the game.
in the second half, you managed to get a goal, using the technique alexia had taught you a couple of days prior.
she was the first one to you after, the loud roar of the crowd drowned out when you felt alexia’s strong arms wrapping around your waist.
you both smiled so brightly as she congratulated you, placing you on the ground, giving you an affectionate kiss on the forehead and squeezing your shoulders. this told you everything. it wasn’t just her being friendly, it was alexia making a move.
at the end of the match, the two of you lingered in the middle of the pitch, you were fidgeting so much alexia was worried.
“(y/n)?” she dips her head to make eye contact with you, “estás bien? (are you okay)” you nod, opening your mouth to speak but nothing came out. “take a deep breath” she smiles, a hand on your shoulder offering you comfort but also stressing you out.
“ale” you start, she nods with an encouraging smile, “i really fancy ya, ale, i’ve been wantin’ to tell ya for a while” you blurt out, alexia’s eyebrows furrow, she looks a little confused.
the silence was loud, why hasn’t she said anything back. if this was her rejection, it hurt more than anything she could have verbalised.
“you know what, forget i said anythin’” you run off before she could say anything. “qué? (what)” she was about to ask you to repeat yourself, one - because you were speaking too fast, two - she didn’t know what fancy meant.
you heard her call out for you but you ran into the change room, knowing keira and lucy were in there. “keira!” you yell, “fucking check my pulse!” you shove your arm in her face and she looks at you in shock. only a couple of people were inside, and the ones that were were shocked at how you tumbled into the room.
“jesus, your heart is going so fast” keira says as she presses her fingers to the inside of your wrist. “fuck, why couldn’t you tell me i’m dead and this is a nightmare” you groan, your hands running over your face frustratingly.
“what’s wrong with you?” lucy says as she walks out of the shower to see you in absolute shambles. “everything!” you explain each and every detail and they look at you sympathetically, understanding now why you were so upset.
what you didn’t know was alexia was outside, ear pressed to the door as she heard you explain that you were trying to confess. she feels her stomach tighten, cursing herself for not understanding what you were saying.
“whatever, i’m going home, don’t follow me” you grit, tears pooling at your waterline as you rush out. alexia had moved out of eyeline when she heard you, quickly going into the change room and drilling lucy and keira for your address that they happily gave her with sly grins. happy to know it was all a misunderstanding.
that afternoon, you hastily wiped your tears away thinking about alexia. you had misunderstood her intentions clearly, you were disappointed with yourself.
you heard the banging from the front door and groaned, knowing your fellow england teammates were probably on the other side with ice cream and apologetic smiles.
“i told you both not to follow me-” you huff, the door opening to see alexia standing there, a bouquet of bright flowers in hand. “hola (hello)” she smiles, “what are you doing here?” you ask softly, “can i come in?” you nod, moving back a little so she could step inside. she hands you the flowers and you take them with a confused expression.
what type of rejection was this?
“i heard you speaking to lucy and keira before” she starts nervously, both of you walking to the kitchen so you could put the flowers in water, they were beautiful.
“it’s fine if you don’t feel the same” you shrink into yourself, brushing the petals of one of the flowers between your fingers.
“hermosa (beautiful)” she calls out, moving around your counter to stand directly in front of you. “me gustas mucho, y quiero estar contigo (i like you a lot, i want to be with you)” she says earnestly, speaking in her mother tongue and hoping you understood because she was speaking from the heart.
you freeze, each and every word quickly translated in your head. “amor (love), you’re very beautiful and nice but you speak very fast, i did not understand a word you said before” she laughs, you can’t help but laugh too, shaking your head at how fast you fled the situation.
“i’m sorry, ale” you grin, “don’t be” she dismisses, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, relishing in the blush she just produced on your cheeks.
“me gustas mucho (i like you a lot), alexia” you smile, she gives you a dazzling expression, appreciating how you spoke her mother tongue to her so she really understood this time. “muy bien, preciosa! (very good, precious)” she coos affectionately, her hand cradling your cheek as she directed your eyes to hers.
“we will teach each other, sí?” she grins cheekily, you hum along with her words, “sí”.
she pulls you closer to place a sweet kiss on your lips, your stomach lurching at how soft they were against yours.
you both smile into it as she drew you closer, your arms wrapping around her neck while her free hand came to rest on the small of your back to press you against her.
she pulls away, not without pressing a few more kisses to your lips through the giggles and the small chatter between the two of you.
when you both came to training the next day hand in hand, sighs of relief were heard from everyone. lucy whipped out her phone as quickly as she could and sent pictures to the england group chat, your phone blowing up more than ever.
now that the team saw you interact, the teasing somehow got worse every time alexia would kiss you, or even hold your hand.
the pining drove everyone insane but the loved up versions of the two of you were insufferable. you were attached at the hip, just how you and alexia wanted.
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you know the drill, just pretend it’s you xx
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liked by keirawalsh and 44,232 others
alexiaputellas: mi niña (my girl)
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yourname: mami
↳ alexiaputellas: i didn’t teach her this
↳ marialeonn16: sureeeee
lucybronze: the most annoying couple ever
↳ yourname: shut up man
↳ leahwilliamsonn: there she is!!
↳ keirawalsh: she went soft but is still a shit head
↳ yourname: @/alexiaputellas bebé! defend me!
↳ alexiaputellas: you are soft
↳ yourname: the betrayal is unreal
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dearemilia · 12 hours
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When you get kidnapped
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pairings | sunday, aventurine, acheron x gn! reader
tags | a little spoiler for acheron's part but other than nothing is too major, sunday has a little yandere theme, mentions of killing, fluff, hurt to comfort, not proofread
note | God, I finally managed to beat that aventurine boss!! >.< Also, the sunday part is a bit short, sorry about that sunday lovers! :<
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Sunday
He finds it funny how someone can think of kidnapping you.
He’s already informed of the plan because of his crows “What utter fools they are, perhaps a little punishment is enough for them to stay away?”
He’ll personally deal with them once his servants capture them.
He will also need to make sure you don’t know about this and that everything is alright and under his control “Dearest, you don’t need to be so worried, alright? Everything is okay”
After dealing with those fools, he’ll take you out on dates! Buying you everything you want and even the ones you don’t want.
All day, he prays for your safety and happiness. So if anyone dares to take that away, he’ll make sure that they’ll pray for their sins.
Aventurine
No one knows what he’s thinking of right now.
His subordinates don’t know whether they should speak up or not “Find them by dawn and if not…I’ll be sure to cut all of your yearly salary to 56%”
One thing for sure is that they are already searching for you.
It may seem like he’s calm but really, deep down he’s afraid of losing the only good person in his life.
Once he has you back, he’ll shower you with love. You’ll find in your shared room full of new clothes, jewelry, and items you mentioned to him years ago!
And don’t worry, he’s already dealt with the people who were involved in your kidnapping even those who only participated a little bit of it.
“I’m so sorry you had to experience that, my love…” He says while hugging you as you both lay down “I’m truly sorry…This is all my fault…” 
You gently grab his face and press your lips onto his forehead “This is none of your fault…You didn’t know and I didn’t know, it just happened, okay?” You smiled at him.
All Aventurine can think of is how lucky he is to have you.
Acheron
Okay, who would be dumb enough to kidnap you? Like seriously, who?
Your kidnapping happened while she was out buying peaches and you were at home.
As soon as she stepped foot onto your home, she knew something wasn’t right. Noticing how clean the house was.
She balled her hand into a fist, unsheathing her sword.
Just as you were panicking about what happened to you, what was going on, if you were going to be killed?
You feel a familiar pair of arms, wrapping around you, carrying you bridal-style “A-Acheron? Is that you…?” You feel yourself sob, feeling relieved.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left you there” You rapidly blinked your eyes as Acheron took off your blindfold.
Acheron places you somewhere safe “Could you…close your eyes and ears for me? This will be quick but it might get a little bloody” 
You nod, turning your head away from the screams of horror from your kidnappers.
You don’t feel any sympathy for them, why should you? They were the ones who were stupid enough to think they could kidnap an emanator’s lover.
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thehmn · 14 hours
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It might simply be that I don’t frequent ADHD forums enough but I haven’t seen a whole lot of talk about learned social withdrawal.
As a child I made friends left and right but as we all turned into self-conscious teenagers it slowly became more and more difficult for me. Plain and simple, other people thought I was weird. For some reason I never got bullied which I think is related to something my teachers kept telling my parents “She’s such a sweet, bright child and we can tell she’s not malicious or trying to be disruptive on purpose but we can’t teach her anything”
Basically people couldn’t figure me out. I had good social skills with both children and adults, I had a good moral compass, i felt compassion and empathy for others and was willing to go against my friends if I felt they were being bullies, I taught myself English and my drawings showed good observation skills. Because of all that it was decided I should start school a year sooner than most kids and my parents were very proud. Unfortunately that’s probably one of the main reasons why I was never diagnosed with raging ADHD as a child. People soon realized I didn’t do well in a school setting but assumed it was because I “wasn’t done playing” and my ADHD symptoms were interpreted as childishness.
So as I got older my classmates started to distance themselves from me. They were always kind and friendly but they didn’t know how to deal with me and ever since then people have always been worryingly comfortable with calling me weird to my face. I get the impression it’s because they think it’s a choice on my part. To them I’m clearly of “normal intelligence” so I must be acting like this on purpose and my parents would repeatedly tell me to “just act normal” as a child when I told them I was struggling to make friends. I tried so damn hard but kept failing. I knew something had to be different about me and when I first heard about ADHD I thought “That’s me! That’s how I feel!” but my parents said that was impossible because I wasn’t hyperactive.
Because nobody wanted to help me I eventually learned to just stop trying to make friends and keep to myself. I was so tired of being told by friendly, well-meaning people that I was so weird and quirky and unique only for them to distance themselves once they realized it was permanent and not something I could turn on and off for parties. I always enjoyed being alone so it wasn’t a huge loss but it did feel incredibly lonely at times.
Things got a lot better when I became an adult, mostly because adults are generally more chill than teens so my ADHD behavior isn’t as embarrassing to them and ironically they’re often surprised to learn I don’t make friends easily. Unfortunately I learned to be withdrawn in my formative years so new friends are still a rarity. Before I really sat down and put my past into context I even started to wonder if I had autism despite not connecting with anything autistic people said about their experiences. I went as far as to be tested but wasn’t surprised when the diagnosis was negative because of course it was, I kinda already knew that. I was just looking for an explanation.
So while there can be overlap between ADHD and autism (I have just such a friend) my experience is also that oftentimes people with ADHD simply learn to stay away from social situations and entertain ourselves which ends up looking like autism to outsiders.
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aventurne · 2 days
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UNDELIVERED❞ - aventurine
summary: his voicemail is full of messages, all from you, never to be heard
warnings: reader is gn, spoilers for the 2.1 penacony quest, angst, hurt/no comfort
notes: like genuinely i am not able to write for him anymore, i’m so sorry if this sucks or anything i’ve been suffering writers block for the longest time 😭
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i saw the prettiest gemstones just now, but they couldn’t match the hue of your eyes. i know people belittle you for it, but i think they’re really beautiful, like all of you. i know you’re probably busy right now. i’ll wait for you to come back before telling you about my day, and you can tell me about yours. do you want to play a few rounds before turning in? i love you.
(played)
thanks for the gift; you seriously didn’t have to. i know you only came to penacony for business, and you didn’t have to take me along either. i’ll make it up to you, i swear. how about a date once you finish work? i heard about this casino; there’s this hotshot there that you might enjoy wiping the floor with. what do you say? see you later. i love you.
(played)
i know something's off, and you’re not telling me about it. where did you go just now? you promised we wouldn’t keep secrets from each other, but you’ve been hiding something the whole time we’ve been here. i’m not angry; i just…i just want you to be open with me. is that so bad? call me back as soon as you can. i love you.
(played)
i’m sorry i yelled at you; your plan wasn’t something… i could agree with, i don’t care if ratio agrees to it. we can work this out; you don’t have to do this alone. just come back, and maybe we can find a better solution. love you.
(played)
i know that i apologized, but it’s not in the way you think it is; maybe it wasn’t even directed at our argument. not sorry, like, "oh, i pity your upbringing," but more of, "sorry for thinking that we could and sorry that we ever tried (to work)." that sounds mean. maybe it is. i could never heal you from the wounds inflicted by your past; they were always too deep to fill up. and i know i wasn’t the best person for you to choose as your second half; why did you do it? why did you pick me out of everyone else? why did you think i was deserving enough of your affection?
look, i know you don't want to talk to me right now. i wouldn't want to either. but i really want this to work out in your favor. i know that i’m being selfish by wanting you even when i can’t. is it wrong to be selfish just this once if it means you’ll live?
yell at me and throw things and scream that i’m as bad as a person like those who hurt you, perhaps even more for knowing that you were hurting and i did it anyway. i don't care. but please don't ignore me. i would rather bleed myself dry for you than be forgotten. i know that nothing i say will change the past; what's done is done. but we can change the future. i don’t want to lose you, not in a million years, in another life, or in any other universe.
we can solve this, find a better alternative, and i can leave afterwards if that’s what you really want. if you can pretend that we’re okay just for a little bit—if you can talk to me one more time—i promise i’ll leave you alone. i promise i’ll never call you again or anything. please call me back. i love you so.
(played)
it’s been seventeen system hours, where are you?
(undelivered)
you’re joking, right? a grand performance? is this just another one of your pranks? there’s no way you- *cuts off*
(undelivered)
you did it, didn’t you? was it worth it?
(undelivered)
hey, please. please come back. i’m sorry. i’ll do anything to have you by my side. don’t leave me alone. please. i can’t live with myself knowing that the last words I said to you face-to-face were “i hate you.” i don’t hate you; i could never hate you. i’d hate the whole world before i could ever do that. please pick up. i love you please.
(undelivered)
it’s pathetic for me to keep calling you over and over again, thinking you’d pick up. maybe some part of me does, or i just want to hear the sound of your voicemail. i hate you; maybe i do hate you. i hate you for leaving me behind and making me think that maybe this would all work out.
(undelivered)
do you think it would have been any different? is it cruel of me to want you when you have never wanted anything else but this? you don’t have to come back as a ghost to haunt me when i’m haunted by everything because it reminds me of you. i can see you in front of me, always protecting me, but never once doing so for yourself. i can hear your laugh—your real laugh, not one of falsehood. i used to draw stars around your scars, didn’t i? but i was the cause of them bleeding you out before you...you’re gone now.
(undelivered)
i miss you. i’m sorry for what i said, and it’s too late now anyway. i won’t be able to forget you, like you told me to. they say that the brain can’t tell whether something is real or a dream, so i’d always believe this horrid dream, even if you’re not here anymore. i think of you all the time now that you’re gone. will you think of me up there?
(undelivered)
*static before it cuts off.*
(undelivered)
i hate the phrase ‘till death do us part’ because even after death, i would still love you. i’ll always be here right where you left me, waiting for you to come home even though i know you won’t.
(undelivered)
sweet dreams. i love you, kakavasha.
(undelivered)
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rebelfell · 2 days
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A li’l self-indulgent bestfriend!eddie fluff. Reader w/ boobies.
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Eddie’s not a total pig, okay?
He can control himself just fine when necessary. He’s fully capable of maintaining a conversation without his brain short circuiting at the sight of something that makes all the tiny Eddie’s in his head run around like chickens with their heads cut off. That is…except for right now.
Because right now there are boobs in front of his face. And not just any boobs. Your boobs.
“Eddie!” You huff loudly and drop your shirt. “You’re not even listening to me, are you?”
He blinks a few times, reluctantly coming out of his daze to look up at you and the appalled frown on your face. His cheeks burn with his humiliation and his mouth falls open as he stammers through his attempt to recall what you just said.
You roll your eyes, sighing all heavy and petulant as you climb off his bed.
“Hey!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up to really sell the ruse of being offended. “You’re the one whipping out your bits all willy nilly. Can’t exactly expect me to concentrate.”
Over your shoulder you fix him with a glare and snatched up one of his Hellfire figurines to chuck it at him. The freshly painted figure ricocheted off his elbow as he threw his arms up in front of him, fighting back giggles as you scolded him.
“I came to you for advice, not to be ogled!”
Well, that was your first mistake, Eddie thought to himself. Because when it came to you there was no scenario that didn’t involve ogling.
“I’m sorry. Okay? I…I got distracted. But that’s what you’re going for, right? Weren’t you asking if they look good?”
“It’s not about whether they look good, I just…I need to know if they look even.”
Even? Even, how? Even more fucking incredible than normal? Even more mouth-watering? Even better than what Eddie’s been imagining more and more over the last few years.
“Even, how?” he asks.
“Like…normal.” You groan. “He says one of them is way bigger and I thought maybe this one would minimize the problem.”
“Problem?” Eddie snorted. “There’s not a single fucking problem with them.”
You roll your eyes at him again, but it’s not quick enough to hide the smile that started to blossom on your lips when he says that. Eddie’s bed frame squeaks in protest as he hops off the bed and comes to stand in front of you, solemn and serious in a way he almost never is.
“Sweetheart…they’re perfect.”
You’re perfect, he wants to say.
A little pride creeps into your voice as you tilt your head gently and glance briefly down at your own chest before looking back at him.
“Really?”
“Really, really. Literally, maybe, definitely, the greatest ones I’ll ever see in my life.”
A laugh bubbles out of his chest and you honestly feel like you’re going to melt into the carpet under your feet. And suddenly you can’t remember for the life of you why you even bothered with this other guy in the first place.
Because the guy you bought this stupid fancy bra for has never called them, or anything on you for that matter, perfect. And he’s never looked at you the way Eddie is looking at you.
You bit down gently on your bottom lip, absently walking your fingers along the edge of Eddie’s dresser, scratching at the chipped paint.
“Do you, um…do you think you got a good enough look?”
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disneyprincemuke · 2 days
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a feeling so peculiar * fem!driver
the new season is finally starting and it doesn't start out as great as she'd expected
pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver, mick schumacher x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver, liam lawson x fem!driver
notes: whatever is on the masterlist for the 2025 season is all i'm going to write for the 2025 season (i think) and it's all angst so sry in advance
(series masterlist) | (📂 2025: fall from grace)
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for starters, she’s never been shy of being on the receiving end of bad news. or devastating news, or ones that feel earth-shattering.
she knows that because growing up in a male-dominated scene has prepared her for that. people used to tell her to give it up because she wouldn’t get anywhere with it, or not to get her hopes up expecting something from a place where she’s clearly not wanted.
but she’s made it this far to formula 1. with her best friends.
her first year in the sport, she climbed to a mere 6th place and ended 4th in her sophomore year. just months ago when the 2024 season had wrapped up, she was on top of the world. a woman in the top 5 of the driver’s championship — it’s definitely something.
to her, she expected that the only way was up.
she could not have been more wrong about that.
the lights have just gone out, the cars on the grid have just skidded off for the evening and she’s… in the garage? in liam’s garage, to be exact.
noise-cancelling headphones on her ears as she stares dreamily into the screen of data of liam’s car. realistically, she should be helping out because she’s always been big on numbers, but not today. something didn’t feel right.
she’d been so excited all winter break to get back into the car, hopping from all the adrenaline and glory she put in her pocket from the year before. only for her car to have an irreversible problem that would force her out of the race before it even began.
she didn’t even have a chance to participate in the first race of the season. no way to shut down all of the unwanted background noise of the critics of her involvement still in the sport.
“hey.” she feels a bump against her hip, flinching at the sudden intrusion of her thoughts. “brought you ice cream.”
her eyes flutter close and a sigh of relief passes her lips. she smiles and takes a small cup into her hands. “i was wondering where you’d run off to.”
matt grins. “you looked pretty upset so i went ahead and got you some ice cream. does it at least make you feel a little better?”
“yeah, a little,” she says softly, pursing her lips. “thank you.”
but there’s still a yearning in her chest to be the one in the car to race tonight. that’s not fair — how come liam gets to race this weekend and she doesn’t?
she thought about politely asking for his car, but she couldn’t get herself to do that to him. he’s now become one of her best friends after all.
“rocky.”
she tilts her head at the call of her name, turning around to meet a familiar pair of eyes. one that she’s honestly been avoiding all day from the turnout of the weekend.
sebastian had been the one to break the news to her: that she wouldn’t be able to participate in the race due to a fault in the car. she had simply nodded while tears formed in her eyes and turned to walk away from him.
if you were to ask sebastian, the lack of a response from her scared him.
“ice cream?” the girl offers with a small smile, extending her hand towards him.
sebastian glances down at the ice cream before lifting his hand to reveal a cup of himself. “matt got me a cup too,” he admits with a small grin. “i just wanted to check if you’re okay. with the car and the pulling out of the race…”
she smiles politely, lips pressed into a thin line. what exactly is she supposed to say to someone who doesn’t really have anything to do with the development of the car? well, he does have involvement in it — being a retired world champion warrants that kind of valuable input — but she hardly believes it’s his fault.
“it’s okay,” she says softly, feeding herself another spoonful of ice cream. she blinks as her answer registers in her head. she shakes her head with a small laugh. “i mean– i’m okay. it’s just one race.” she glances at matt, standing next to her. “right?”
matt blinks at her. caught off-guard by her sudden want of his opinion; he’s an actor, not a race car driver. he only knows more about one of the two and it’s the answer that his girlfriend wants to hear. so he nods, “right.”
she turns back to sebastian. “a little frustrating,” she shrugs, “but things like this happen. that’s what you always say.”
sebastian smiles. “you learn quick, kid,” he pats her head endearingly. “that’s a good grasp of the concept. you’ll be back on the track next week good as new, i promise.”
she nods, forcing herself to swallow down the words that sebastian spoke to her. but there’s a churning in her stomach that she cannot seem to ignore as she feels her appetite come to a halt suddenly.
she huffs softly as she turns back to the screen. things like this happen, she repeats in her head. surely it can’t get any worse than this.
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so it apparently can get worse.
she sits in the car slightly longer than she needs, eyes staring intensely at the steering wheel in her hands.
something’s not right, something’s off. something doesn’t feel okay.
she wants to blame something — rather someone — that isn’t the car. perhaps, she’s suddenly become the problem without her knowledge? it feels like something has shifted in the air recently because nothing seems to go her way anymore.
“is everything okay?”
she flinches at the sudden voice that fills her ears, reminded that she’s still sitting in her car in parc ferme. “yes,” she answers softly at first, “yeah. i’m okay. sorry. it was just a long race. i’m quite exhausted.”
“copy. let me know if you need help, okay? or if you need to talk. it was a tough race.”
a finish out of the points feels so foreign to her. to be two races into the new season and not be in the top 10 of the driver’s championship. this time last year, she was at least in the top 8 in the standings by the second race of the season.
not this time.
but a slow start isn’t so unheard of for her. it feels like the only thing she can do now is hope that everything gets better eventually. it can’t stay like this all year, right?
when she does arrive at her garage, though, it seems that sebastian is not the only one concerned about her first finish out of the points in almost a year. a crowd has formed in her garage, her friends all staring at her cautiously as they await to see the big reaction that they’ve been expecting from her.
“what?” she asks softly, putting her helmet down on one of the vacant tables. “why are you all staring at me like that?”
the silence doesn’t stop. eyes dart all over the garage, some avoiding her gaze and some staring right at her every couple of seconds.
logan is the first to step forward; the boost from mick prompting an annoyed click of his tongue as he throws his arms into the air. “you uh,” logan blinks at her, “didn’t finish in the points today. how are you feeling?”
she blinks back at him. “i’m,” she trails off and catches oscar’s stare, to which he immediately looks away, “okay?” she tilts her head and furrows her eyebrows. “are you guys okay? you’re acting kind of… weird.”
her friends’ consideration for her feelings during this trying time is valid. once upon a time, she couldn’t handle the outcome of her not finishing in the points. she just had — has — so much to prove.
but it’s just one time out of her many races.
liam smiles. “we’re just concerned.”
“well your concern is concerning,” she laughs sheepishly, now tearing the velcro from her neck and unzipping her race suit. “i’m 22 — i can handle my emotions when i finish outside of the points. also, not my first time.”
a lie. she actually wants to start throwing things around. perhaps the steering wheel since it’s the only part of the car that she could actually detach and yank around, unlike others.
but it’s just one race.
“yeah, but we’re just saying,” mick speaks with a smile, “if you need to scream and cry and vent because you were out of the points — you can talk to us.”
“i won’t even take it personally if it was because of the team orders,” liam adds with a grin. “you know what? i’ll even scream with you.”
there’s only one person she wants to scream with right now, and it’s the only person that isn’t directly involved in whatever the hell this is.
“as will i,” logan presses his lips together, “i feel like i need to scream into the void until my lungs give out actually.”
she runs a hand through her hair. “i’m okay,” she holds her hands in the air to stop any more chatter from her friends who decided they know her better than herself. “let’s freshen up and regroup at the mclaren camp. ice cream, right? maybe dinner? oscar made podium — we need to celebrate!”
oscar shakes his head, taking a step forward. “we really don’t have to. it’s okay, it’s not even a big deal.”
“no,” she says firmly, head snapping over to the australian. oscar flinches back at the way she’d turn to him with his hand pressed against his chest. it’s silly that after all these years, he still tries to minimise achievements when she’s not had the share of the glory. “i’ll see you guys in a bit. 40 minutes?” she looks around. “where’s matt?”
“in my garage getting ice cream,” mick smiles. “40 minutes, right?”
“yes,” she mutters, quickly dismissing them as she heads for the exit to the paddocks. “i’ll see you then.”
the air feels thick when she steps into the paddocks. the whispers are louder than they used to be and the stares are boring holes into her again.
a heavy sigh passes her lips as she picks up her feet into a run, heading straight for her racing home. she just needs to be alone; be by herself.
because surely, it can’t get worse than this.
right?
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taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @33-81 @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification @localwhoore @notawc @sadg3 @kazuha-pista-badam @mellowarcadefun @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @a-disturbing-self-reflection @mclarengf @inejismywife @love4lando @louvrepool
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ovaryacted · 1 day
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Really random but dad bod DI Leon🤤🤤🤤 (I really love DI Leon if you couldn’t tell) like I love Leon w abs, and his hourglass shape but just him cuddling w you and being so warm and soft😢 (or when y’all are making love and his tummy just has us fitting together like puzzle pieces and it’s LIKE OMGMGM😭😭😭😭😭)
-🐏
cw: descriptions of body changes, internalized fatphobia, smutty thoughts/acts.
OHHHHHH DAD BOD LEON IS MY VICE PLEASE OH MY FUCKING GOD. LIKE RAHHHH, I NEED IT BAD. Ram anon, I'm on to you.
The changes happen after a year into his forced retirement, he doesn't realize it until he becomes more aware of the way your arms feel wrapping around his soft torso. Once adorned with hard muscle, his body now was covered in a layer of skin that expanded over time. He still had the same physique and the same capacity for strength, but there was an added softness he’d acquired recently that sent his head in for a spin.
Retirement has been good for Leon, he no longer has to deal with the hecticness of mission briefings and assignments. He gets to actually rest, his usual overactive nervous system now rendered down and becoming more manageable. The first couple of weeks he spent falling asleep in bed or on the couch, like his body was playing catchup on the energy that's been robbed from him over the years. You didn’t bother him about it, didn’t even judge him whenever you’d find him limp on the bed and snoring in the middle of the day.
You'd use that time to run errands or do chores around your shared home, often preparing meals for him whenever he'd wake up groggily to go look for you. Eating homemade meals that were made with love certainly started to add up, the consistent intake of food was new and apparently something that his body liked and needed. The constant nausea he often experienced when he was under so much stress went away, slowly learned how to enjoy eating again like he did years before he was forced to become an agent.
He never focused on his appearance most days, but as Leon stopped to observe himself in the mirror one morning, his eyes were fixated on his body. He's certainly changed after a while, stomach a little fuller and cheeks more plump than before, hell even his arms and thighs looked bigger. His initial reaction to the change would have been disgust, to put himself back on a routine to regain the muscle he's lost and to critique every imperfection that would eventually be another nuisance.
But as he looked at himself a little longer, a smile crept up on his face, not minding what he saw for probably the first time in his life. All he saw was your love for him, how the signs of you taking care of him after all this time were starting to reflect in how he looked. He was healthy, he was alive, and that was a win in his book.
You certainly didn't mind the changes either and took every opportunity to remind Leon of just how much you adored him. Cuddling him whenever you could was something that became a ritual between the two of you, sneaking under his arm and digging your face into his chest any chance you got. He was soft, warm, and just a tad bit squishy. He was human, he was himself, not some war machine meant to work like a dog day and night.
One of your favorite things about his new appearance was the intimate moments you both shared and how he felt around you both internally and externally. You loved getting on your knees and worshipping him, sucking over his cock lavishly and running your hands over his thick thighs, biting at them when Leon found himself lost in pleasure.
Or when you were riding him and the sound of his thighs slapping against yours was louder than before, his lower tummy rubbing into you, meshing together so well one would think you were part of the same whole. It made you feral, like a primal instinct to claim him and show him that all you wanted was to make him feel accepted in this new body. Leon didn't complain, he loved how your attraction to him seemed to skyrocket.
Maybe being a bit more soft wasn't so bad after all.
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hughes86-43 · 2 days
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My Person | L.Hughes
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summary - you and Luke have been each other’s person, it just has taken a while for you both to realize it.
note - I’ve been working on this for a while, and I wanted to get out before I dive into the blurb night requests. I hope you like it!
warnings - a little bit of angst, mentions of parties and drinking, but other than that nothing else (if there’s more let me know!). maybe some grammar errors
masterlist
Ever since you met Luke at a frat party at the University of Michigan, you two have always been each other’s ‘person’. Constantly looking for each other in a crowded room, calling each other when something happened, going to eat after a stressful day, or hanging out with each other with shared friends.
Truthfully, you don’t really know how it happened. You were both new to the university, he had hockey friends and you had friends of those friends. Your friends had convinced you one late September night to go to a frat party with them, although it was late you agreed, and then you got introduced to the hockey team, but you hadn’t met Luke yet. It was overall a great night, and nearing 11:30, you decided to take a break from talking with everyone and the drinking games, and made your way outside to sit on the patio couch. The drinking was starting to catch up to you as a headache was coming on.
Rubbing your forehead to try to release the pressure, you didn’t even notice that someone had made their way outside. “Hey, are you okay?” Startled by hearing someone, you look up and see a guy standing there wearing a black Michigan shirt with jeans.
Waving him off, you reply back, “Oh, yeah, just got a headache coming on.” He nods his head, but walks to go sit on the other chair. You lean back into the couch you’re on.
After a moment of awkward silence between you, although the crowd inside was nothing but, the guy speaks up again, “Why are you out here?” He’s busy looking off to the side while he asks it.
“Um it was just getting to be a bit too much for me, just needed a breather.” You shyly laugh, looking at him. “Why are you out here? Since you asked me.”
He finally turns his head to look at you, he says, “I guess I could say the same. One can only handle a drunk Dylan Duke for only a little bit.” He can’t help but to let out a laugh.
Remembering the name he just said from meeting all the hockey players earlier in the night, you ask him, “He’s on the hockey team right? Are you on the hockey team?”
He nods his head and says, “Yeah, I am. Are you friends with him?”
Shaking your head, “Oh, no, some of my friends are, I just met him and all the rest of the players earlier tonight.”
“Oh. I guess I got here a little bit after that. Anyway, since you met the others, I guess I could introduce myself,” he says with a laugh, “My name is Luke.” He leans forward and holds out a hand for you to shake.
Deciding if you should, you lean forward and shake his hand. “I’m Y/N.” He smiles at you, and let’s go of your hand and leans back in his chair.
From then on, every party that you both ended up at, you two would constantly be searching for each other. For you, there was something about him that seemed to make you calm down, and for him, he found you absolutely captivating by how you seem to hold the stance of everyone around you.
For months of freshman year, if anybody needed to know where either one of you were, they just needed to find one of you. They knew if they needed Luke, that he would be with you and it was the same for the other way around.
Sometimes his friends, like Dylan and Ethan, would constantly chirp at him as soon as he made it to a party you weren’t at.
“Hey Lukeyyy, Y/N isn’t here tonight I don’t think, what will you ever do!” Dylan would say as Luke walked into a party instantly looking around for you.
“How’d you even know I was looking for her anyway?” Luke would say shyly to him.
Ethan stepped in to say something. “Oh, please. As if you don’t look around at each party for her everytime.” Luke would just end up walking away from them to go grab a drink and then text you to see where you were and if you were okay. You would always be quick to reassure him that you were not feeling it that night and he could always come by your dorm if he wanted to (he always wanted to and he would always leave the party to find you).
When it came to Michigan hockey games, you were always trying your best to be at them. Every morning of a home game, Luke would text you to make sure you were going to be able to make it. If there was an away game, he would make sure you were going to able to keep up with the game. Not only were you there to support your schools team, you were mostly there to be Luke’s number one fan, which you never failed to tell someone if they asked.
You would make sure to always wear Michigan colors and you always would make sure to wear something Luke related. When you first told Luke you were interested in going to the hockey games, he made sure to give you a little necklace that had the number “43” on it, which only made it seem like you two were an item (possibly that what Luke wanted).
One time when he was extra anxious before a big game, you gave him your lucky blue bracelet that you wore every time you were anxious yourself. Luke knew how much you loved and cherished that bracelet, so he was extra grateful that you let him wear it. Not to mention that was probably one the moments that he fell in love with you more.
At the end of freshman year, you were busy with finals and packing to go back home when it all become too much. After spending the majority of the day with your head in a textbook and looking at your laptop, you were feeling the affects of not much sleep and all your anxieties piling up on top of you. When you decided you needed a break, you made your way to Luke’s place. He had barely heard from you in two days, he knew you were busy.
When you got there, he could see the tiredness and the emotional state that you were in. Pulling you into his room, he lets you sit on his bed as you spill out all that you are worrying about. When all of a sudden you were struggling to breathe, Luke pulled you into his arm and rubbed his hand up and down your arm to calm you down. He knew you weren’t sleeping much, so he let you lay down in his bed to rest. He was just going to let you rest while he went and did some errands, but you grabbed his hand and had him lay down with you. He instantly laid down with you and let you sleep until the next day. In the morning, you realized your feelings for him had grown.
During the summer break, you were back in your hometown, while Luke was back at his brothers’ lake house. He invited you to come over for a few weeks, but you wanted to at least go home for a bit before going. While you were away from him, you two never failed to FaceTime each other and text one another about all the things you did.
When you went to the lake house after not seeing him for about a month, you both couldn’t have been happier to see each other. You had met his parents, Ellen and Jim, at a few home games, and had even gone out to dinner with them, but you hadn’t met his brothers. His parents absolutely adored you and were secretly hoping you two would get together (at least that’s what they would tell Quinn and Jack). You knew as soon as you got to the lake house you were going to have to meet Quinn and Jack. You were nervous about meeting them for some reason, which was weird since you weren’t as nervous when meeting Ellen and Jim. It was just due to them two being his older brothers and they were constantly looking out for him.
You instantly hit it off with Jack when you met him after he came back in from being on the boat. You both had joked over how Luke was falling off the wake board every time he tried to get on it for at least a week. (Luke was offended you were teaming up with Jack to go against him). However, getting along with Quinn was a bit harder.
With Quinn, you decided that he was just looking out for Luke and didn’t want to see him get hurt, even though you two weren’t dating. Over the three weeks you were at the lake house, Quinn slowly began to notice how good you were for Luke. This was especially true when he saw how you never failed to make Luke laugh over anything and everything. He also saw how much Luke was in love with you. He had pulled Jack aside multiple times to see if he had noticed it too (he had) and they both made a bet on when you two would get together.
Anytime Jack’s friends, Trever, Cole and Alex, were over, they were constantly asking Jack if you and Luke were together. Everybody seemed to understand you two had feelings for each other besides you and Luke.
While you were at the lake house, you were there for Luke’s draft day. He had been nervous all day for it, but you were constantly reassuring him all would go well and made sure he had your bracelet. You were so happy when he was selected by New Jersey, as you knew how much he wanted to be back with Jack. Once the excitement of the night calmed down, you had sneaked into his room and laid with him all night long talking about anything and everything.
Sadly, summer came and went. The start of sophomore year for you and Luke was in full force. Somehow during the craziness of school starting, you slowly started to realize that you may have feelings for Luke. From the shy glances to him across the room that has him sending you a smile or the early morning coffee and breakfast meetups or the constant calling each other over the smallest thing that comes up, but you don’t ever tell him, and he never tells you.
Once school was in full swing, holidays came and went, parties came and went, assignments came and went, and hockey games came and went all leading up to Luke’s last game with Michigan hockey. You made it to the game, and you were nervous but it was mostly for him. You knew how nervous he was throughout the whole day leading up to the game, as he never failed to tell you when he was anxious. You knew he was leaving as soon as the game was over, you just had to prepare yourself to see your best friend leaving.
At the end of the game, he finds you. Pulling you into a hug, he says into your neck, “Thanks for being here tonight. Tough loss, but I don’t have time to think about that.”
Pulling back from him, you smile. “You gotta start heading out, don’t you?”
He gives you a sad smile and a nod. “Yeah, I do. But I’ll text you when I land, and anytime after that. Call anytime, I mean it! If I don’t answer, then text me and I’ll call you back.”
“You need to stay focus when you get there, I don’t want to burden all my problems on you.”
Rubbing his thumb in circles on your arm, he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. I like listening to your problems and everything else, and plus I’ll be calling you constantly about mine so it will be even!” He laughs and pulls you into another hug.
“Alright, I gotta go. Be careful getting home,” Luke says. You stay there in that spot, watching him walk away, but he turns around and yells, “You better text me when you make it home so I know you made it safely!” You manage to let out a laugh and nod your head and give him a thumbs up. Once he made it out the doors, you made your way to find Dylan, as he was your ride.
“You know, why don’t you just confess that you like him as more than a friend?” Dylan says as he puts an arm around your shoulder as you both walk.
“Uh I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say as you eye him down out of the corner of your eye.
“Hmmm, yeah sure. Whatever you say. Just saying, you both act more like a couple than any other couple I have seen.”
That whole conversation with Dylan stayed in your head for weeks after that. With Luke gone to New Jersey, you two still called each other or texted each other, but it soon became limited to a few text or calls during the week, as you were busy with school and he was busy with playoffs. On your part, the lack of communication with him was that you were scared of your ever growing feelings for him. You were scared that he didn’t feel the same or that he would no longer be your best friend, so you limited yourself on how much you talked to him.
Luke thought it was weird that you weren’t talking to him as much. He would call you but you would just talk to him for five minutes and then have to hang up. He was glad to finally be playing in the NHL, but he hated that he couldn’t see you or talk to you everyday like he did. He was constantly asking Dylan and the other guys if you were okay and what you were up to, which made their theory of him liking you grow even more.
When the Devils played the Hurricanes in the playoffs, Ellen saw how much Luke missed you, and with school ending, she invited you out to game five. You were weary about going, but honestly you had to see him. It had been a long while without him. You knew it would be a complete surprise to Luke.
The game was rough, and sadly they lost so they were out of the running. You were even more nervous to see Luke now that they lost. You followed Ellen and Jim down to the boys. You stayed behind his parents as Luke and Jack hugged each one. Once Luke pulled away from Jim, his eyes finally landed on you.
Although he was shocked to see you, he made his way to you. He instantly pulled you into a hug, squeezing you so tight as if he had to make sure you were actually there.
“I can’t believe you’re here, How’d you even get here?” Luke says as he pulls away from you, keeping his hands on your arms.
“Ellen flew me in. You know I had to see you play in a NHL game sooner or later,” you give him a smile.
“Yeah, if only we had won,” he mumbles.
“I’m sorry, I know you guys have been working hard, and to have made it this far is still pretty good.”
“I know, but enough of that, my night has just gotten better now that you’re here.” You felt your heart instantly melt at his words. You only hoped that he meant it in a way that meant something more.
Hearing someone clearing their throat behind you, you look to see that Jack is looking very impatient. “Okay, lovers or whatever you are, I’m hungry so let’s go get food, unless you two are going to stay here all day staring at each other then we will leave you.” At his words, Ellen smacks his arm telling him to shush.
Knowing that he is upset with the loss of the game, and not wanting to make him even more upset, you and Luke follow them outside of the arena to the car.
Once dinner ended, you and Luke made your way back to his hotel room, bidding goodnight to his parents and Jack, who just weirdly smiled at you and kept raising his eyebrows. Walking into Luke’s hotel room, you anxiously stand around for a second before walking to the chair in the room and sitting your bag on it.
You’re sitting on the bed picking at your nails, when Luke speaks up from across the room. “I missed you, you know?”
Looking up at him, you see him leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, like something is bothering him. “I missed you a lot too, actually,” you voice back. Expecting him to say something sweet back, but he just scoffs at your reply.
“Really? Because it really didn’t seem like you did.”
You tilt your head at him since you don’t know what he’s so upset about. “What do you mean? I called, I texted all the time.”
He laughs, “Yeah but only every other day or so, and when I called you, you seemed to be in such a hurry to get off the phone!”
“Well, I had things to do!” Now you were getting upset as well at him.
“I had things to do as well! But I made sure to always call or text you, since that’s what I promised to do!” He says while running his hand through his hair. “I was completely stressed out after a game the other day, and I wanted nothing else to do but call my best friend to tell her about it, but she didn’t answer and left me a measly text!” His voice is starting to get louder.
“You know, I had to go through Dylan and the guys to figure out if you were actually okay! They always said that you were, and they were just as confused as I was about you not talking to me!” He turns his head from you to look at the wall, trying to take a moment to calm down.
Standing up from the bed, you say, “Well, maybe I just didn’t want to talk to you! I- um- well- I thought that maybe if I didn’t talk to you, you wouldn’t figure out how I felt.”
Whipping his head back to you, he asks, “What do you mean how you felt?”
Sighing, you reply, “Nothing, forget I said anything.”
Walking over to you, he shakes his head. “Oh, no, no, no. I finally get to hear you talk, and I now don’t want you to stop. So say what you meant.”
Deciding to just suck it up and tell him, you breathe out and then look up into his eyes. “Fine, I like you as more than a friend. Wait- actually I think I may love you more than a friend.” You continue to stare into his eyes as you wait for a response.
After a few seconds, he starts to smile. “You mean to tell me that you wouldn’t talk to me because you loved me as more than a friend?” He actually lets out a laugh.
Crossing your arms, you mumble, “Okay, if you going to laugh, just forget I said anything.”
His smile falters. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh that way, I just mean that I find it funny you wouldn’t talk to me because you actually love me when I feel the exact same way as you.”
Your arms fall to your side at his confession and your cheeks start to turn red. “What?”
“Listen, I love you more than anything in this world. You are the only person that I voice my worries to, you are the only person that cares so much about me, you are the only person who can make me laugh or whatever no matter what. You are my person. I want nothing more than to be your person. I want to be the person you call no matter what, I want to be the person that is always there for you, and I want to be the person who always makes you laugh.” He finally lets out a breath, as if he has been holding in how he truly felt for you forever (he has).
“Luke, honey, you have always been my person. I just don’t think I truly realized it until before you left, hell I think everyone realized a year ago,” you stifle out a laugh, looking at him with blurry eyes.
Luke lets out a laugh as well. “I know, Dylan, my brothers, my parents have all been trying to get me to just tell you. Not to mention, I definitely think they have a bet going on.” He walks closer to you and doesn’t hesitate for a second to pull you into his arms.
You wrap your arms around his back, rubbing them up and down, and then pulling him in tighter. You never want to let him go, and he never wants to let you go either. “So what does this mean for us?” He pulls back to look at you, you lift a hand to move some curls out of his face.
He gives you a shy smile as he says, “I think this means that I can finally ask if you’ll be my girlfriend?”
“I think that would only make sense. So yes, I’ll be your girlfriend!”
“Great because I’ve been dying to kiss you ever since I seen you outside of that frat party over a year ago!”
“Maybe if you did kiss me at that party, then it would have sped up this process,” you joke.
“Hmmm, imma kiss you now.”
Once your lips meet, it’s like all of sudden all of the pieces that had been missing are all of a sudden mended back together. You both kiss each other like your lives depend on it, like you need each other’s touch to live, and maybe you do.
Suddenly needing air, you break apart. You lean your forehead against his, and the smile on your face is still going strong.
“You know, we’re going to have to now tell everyone that they were right about us.”
He laughs, “Yeah, and they’re never going to shut up about it!”
“They better give us half of the money from their bets.”
“Ugh, Jack’s going to be so annoying when we tell him.”
You nod, “Yeah, maybe we tell him last so that he is a little bit less annoying about it.”
“Doesn’t matter, he’ll have an ego no matter what,” he says. “I love you so much.”
“I love you so much too,” you say, running your fingers through his hair.
“I’m glad, now come on, I’m exhausted after this long night. I’ve been dying to cuddle with you.”
“And you wonder why everyone thought we were together.” You say as he leads you to the bed.
You knew that all you ever needed was each other. You were his person and Luke was your person. It may have taken a while to realize it, but you wouldn’t change it for the world.
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notjustjavierpena · 2 days
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Terror
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A/N: By popular demand! This turned awful in my brain very quickly. I know instantly that this won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, so please read the tags before jumping into this. Not everything is fun and games for hubby. 
Summary: Javier doesn’t think that he has nightmares about Colombia anymore until he suddenly does. The difference is that he also has you and the family that you have given him.
Pairing: Javier Peña x reader (no y/n)
Tags: +18, graphic description of gun violence, some gore, PTSD night terrors, major character death (but not really), panic attacks, domestic, cuddles, hurt/comfort, family time, love confessions, pregnant reader dies in this dream
Word count: 2.6k
Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54592621
Terror
Javier searches and searches to no avail. He walks with frantic determination between burning cars and bullet shells, occasionally hitting the latter with the tips of his shoes so they go cascading down the asphalt with a clinking sound. He doesn’t trip on them though, as his steps are sure, moving around the chaotic scene of the aftermath of an ambush by grabbing at whatever he can to push himself forward. 
He knows where he is but he doesn’t remember getting here, and he has no clue if he was involved in the shooting that has evidently occurred here. However, when he looks down at himself, he finds no bullet wounds and no tactical gear either. So why does he think that you are here? He yelps as he accidentally grabs the hood of a car that seems to have been burning for a while, the metal so hot that it scorches his skin. The heat radiating from the vehicle makes his body prickle with sweat, his shirt clinging uncomfortably to his skin that is riddled with damp sweat from anxiety. He clutches his burnt hand and continues down the never-ending street. 
Where are you? Where are they? He searches through several empty cars, nearly ripping the doors off of their hinges to get to you quicker. Perhaps you know where they are but he doesn’t even know where you are. 
When he gets to what feels like the hundredth car, finally reaching the end of the road that somehow resembles a labyrinth despite only moving forward, panic has started to rise in his throat. He calls for you but you don’t answer, and then he calls for Lucas in case he has managed to hide himself and his sibling somewhere. 
“Lucas! It’s alright, it’s just me!” He yells out but it’s just the echo of his own voice that answers him, “You can come out now, it’s over, te prome— (I promi—).”
Javier has turned the corner. It is the sight of Horatio Carrillo’s face that makes him realize that this isn’t real. Carrillo is dead, and he has been for nearly twenty years. Javier will never forgive himself for not having been there. He should have been there with everyone. It should have been him; he had had nothing waiting for him back in Laredo. 
In front of him, a row of children and teenagers are kneeling but he doesn’t recognize any of their faces. He has seen this scene before. He remembers doing nothing back then, and the thought is enough to make his gut twist with guilt and nausea even if nothing could have been done to change Carrillo’s attitude towards the kids. He hears a gunshot and a young child falls to the ground, head split open from the way the bullet has torn through soft, young flesh. He flinches in a way that he didn’t back then, in a way that only a man who is a father can. 
Carrillo’s blank and indifferent stare terrifies him to the point where he wishes that he could wake up. It is clear that this is a nightmare, so why hasn’t he woken up yet? Aren’t you supposed to wake up when you have figured it all out? He tries pinching his arm but nothing happens, and the claustrophobia of being stuck in his own head makes his chest constrict and his heart, too big for his rib cage by now, hammer with the speed of a hummingbird’s wings. 
The stare he is watching is not one of being rid of emotion but rather the look that washes over a face when the person it belongs to is dead. His old colleague is standing in front of him in a zombie-like state and Javier cannot shake the feeling that Carrillo looks less like a person and more like a thing. 
“Carrillo,” he says sternly. On the ground, the blood oozes towards his feet and he shifts to avoid it soaking through his shoes. 
His colleague turns to him but doesn’t say anything. He still has the weapon in his hand, arm stretched out, and pointing the gun at the row of innocent children. Javier speaks quietly despite his anxiety, “C’mon, they’re just kids. Look at them; they’re just ki—“
He turns to look at the kneeling figures but the faces aren’t unknown to him anymore. His blood runs cold at the sight of his eldest son who has his arms stretched out to hold Inés close to his body, effectively shielding her from any shot that may be coming at her at any moment. 
“Lucas,” he croaks, “¿Dónde está tu madre (Where is your mother)?”
“I don’t know, Dad,” his son replies, “I’m scared.” 
“I know, don’t worry, I— I’m gonna take care of it,” he replies with a dizzying heartbeat followed by the urge to throw up. 
It’s then that you appear too. His heart skips a beat as you materialize right behind your kids, pregnant with his child and vulnerable as tears stream down your cheeks. Your arms are in front of you, wrapped around your children as you try to protect them while whimpering in a way that makes Javier more than desperate. He tries to sound more assertive than anxious but listening to his own voice, he doesn’t feel very successful. He turns back to Carrillo who hasn’t moved the firearm even an inch, “For fuck’s sake, get that gun away from my family!”
“Están trabajando para Escobar, Peña. Si quieres justicia, entonces esta es la única manera (They are working for Escobar, Peña. If you want justice, this is the only way),” is the only reply he gets. Carrillo spits at the ground.
Javier takes a step forward but suddenly, a shot is fired at his feet and he is forced to jump back with his hands in the air. His eyes are pleading, his voice wavering, “Jesus Christ, Carrillo, they’re not working for him. Put the damn gun down! They’re mine. They are my kids. You’re pointing a gun at my wife!”
Lucas shifts on his spot on the ground. His knees can barely hold himself up anymore, gravel gnawing at his kneecaps but Javier holds out a hand to stop him, “Don’t move, mijo (my son). I know you’re scared but—“
But Lucas’ eyes are wet with terrified tears. He panics, throws himself to the side to crawl away and the ghost of Javier’s previous colleague seems to come to the conclusion that it is too risky to attempt a shot in the boy’s direction in case he misses, so instead—
Javier flinches at the loud sound of the gun going off. You lie on the ground in the next moment. He lets out a cry of anguish, crawling across the gravel road to get to you until his hands are scraped and his knees are dirty. The love of his life and his unborn child.  
“No,” he yells as tears spring from his eyes. He clutches at you whilst you breathe rapidly and try to hold onto him as well but your grip is slowly loosening on him with every beat of your heart. He can see the way your pulse slows in how your clothes soak slower and slower, knows where it is going. You try to say something but he cannot understand it, your voice having been replaced by gurgles of blood, “No don’t try to talk, baby. Shit, I— look, it’s not even that bad. Shh, it’s okay, baby. It’s not even that bad, it’s fine, you’re gonna be fine, mi vida (my life). You and the baby. I promise.” 
The same blank stare as the one that Carrillo sports washes over your face. He says your name over and over, “Mi amor (my love), no, no, look at me. No, no, no no no.”
Inés has started screaming in panic. She’s crying for you in the most heart-wrenching manner, terrified when you don’t react to her words like you always do. Her pitch climbs with each passing second but Javier has no strength to soothe his daughter because he yells your name until it feels like he cannot breathe. 
Lucas yells for his mother in the background. The agony of hearing his children cry mixed with hearing you say nothing is too much for him. He panics, shakes you violently— 
He jolts awake in the next moment to the sound of your voice. Fear still has him in its grip and leaves him disoriented, ready to fight whatever comes his way. He hyperventilates until he feels lightheaded and tries to figure out where he is, beads of cold sweat having collected on his forehead during his restless sleep.
“Javi,” you say with a hand on his shoulder and he whips his head around to face you. A moment ago, your eyes had been glazed over by death.
Immediately, he grabs your wrist in an iron grip. You place your other hand on top of his, speaking softly, “Javier. Let go.”
“Are you alright?” He chokes out and grips you harder, eyes wild in the dimly lit bedroom. He wants to run a million miles, “Are you alright?” 
“I am okay, baby. We’re both safe,” you reassure him with a hand on your pregnant belly. Tears start to roll down his cheeks. He is unable to shake the image of you lying dead on the ground, “Shh…”
“Are you sure?” He whimpers, eyes flickering from your face to your stomach and back to your face again. 
“Yes. It was just a bad dream. It was just a nightmare,” your voice is still ever so gentle and nowhere near the way it had been in his state of terror. He releases the clutch on your arm and you carefully run a hand over his forehead, “Breathe. Hold my hand. Tell me you love me.”
You offer your free hand to him and he carefully takes it, trying to convince himself that you won’t slip away from him in the dark bedroom. You squeeze his hand slightly. It’s a silly thing you came up with years ago. 
“I love you,” he says quietly, already feeling a little better but when you say it back ever so gently, he finds himself bursting into tears. He cries and it is the kind that comes from the very bottom of one’s lungs; frantic and breathy sobs that sound almost painful.
He thought that the nightmares had stopped. They had been bad when he first met you, and he connected it to his decreasing alcohol consumption because back in Colombia, he was sometimes too boozed up to even dream. However, meeting you - marrying you - had been a glimpse into a future where he could get better because you were together. So why does his brain still do this once in a while? 
“Pensé que te había perdido para siempre (I thought I had lost you forever),” he sobs when you engulf him in your arms. He rests his head against your soft chest, grabbing onto whatever he can of you to make sure you are real. It’s only times like these when his strong, broad hands feel unsure on your skin. 
“Oh, baby. I’m right here,” you rock him carefully in a way that a mother does, “I’m not going anywhere, te prometo (I promise you).” 
“No puedo vivir sin ti (I can’t live without you),” he continues. You reassure him that he won’t have to, that by then, someone will have discovered eternal life or made all of you into kind-hearted robots. Despite the chuckle he lets out, you also let him cry for as long as he needs to. 
It takes you a while to calm him down again, resting your chin on top of his head as he lets himself fall into you instead of going out of his mind. He mumbles, “Where are the kids? Where’s Inés?”
“They’re in bed,” you promise him, arms cradling him and rubbing his back until his breathing starts to slow again, “They’re okay. They’re just asleep.”
Except they are not asleep. Your hand stops moving on his back, and he looks up at you to find your eyes on the door. 
“Inés. Lucas. Stop standing at the door,” you say gently. 
“Sorry,” they say in unison.
Relief floods Javier’s system at the sound of his children’s voices. His chest expands as he breathes in deeply for what feels like the first time since he woke up. He watches their little faces, hears the click of the lamp on your nightstand as you turn on the light. 
“Is Daddy okay?” Inés asks carefully. Her eyes tell Javier that he has noticed the tears on her father’s face.
“We heard you yelling,” Lucas elaborates to his father, “Inés didn’t want to go in here alone. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize, sweetie,” your voice is sweet and calm. It is in these moments that he loves you the most; when you prove to be the anchor in any storm, knows that the only times he might actually get a good night's rest is when you are right here beside him. 
“Come here, mis amores (my loves),” he scoots a little away from you to open his arms. His children look uncertain for a moment but then Inés rushes forward to climb into bed and into his embrace. Lucas follows a moment after, the both of them earning a kiss on top of their heads. 
Inés’ eyes are wide as she stares up at him, “Papá, you scared me.”
“I had a bad dream,” he explains to both of them and attempts to smile, pulling them closer to his chest. They make faces as they are squished but he doesn’t let go, “but I’m okay now. I’m sorry for waking you.”
“Then why are you crying?” Lucas gets out of the embrace to study his face, shocked to see the tears running down until they drip down from his chin. 
“Daddy! You are crying!” Inés parrots her older brother as she notices too. She kneels in front of her father and tilts her head. 
“I am?” He asks, pretending not to know. Inés’ tiny hand reaches to wipe a few tears away without much success and his heart clenches in his chest with how lucky he feels to have such a beautiful family. 
“It’s okay to cry,” Lucas explains softly, “That’s what Mom says.”
“Alright, let’s give your father some space,” you lock eyes with your husband, cup his cheek for a moment before brushing away the last traces of tears from his face with the back of your hand. He smiles at you and it is completely genuine for the first time. 
“I don’t want to sleep,” Inés protests loudly.
“What if you both sleep in here for the rest of the night?” You bargain whilst still smiling at Javier, however a little more goofily now, “Just for tonight.”
Lucas is already crawling under the covers to cuddle up next to you, and Inés lays down next to her father. It takes a moment of quiet chatter and soothing caresses to make them both fall asleep again, their bodies exhausted from being awake in the middle of the early hours of the morning. 
Javier can’t fall back asleep but from the way you breathe, he can tell that sleep hasn’t found you either.
Outside, the first light of dawn has begun to filter through the curtains. There’s a warmer glow in the room now, and he peeks at you from where he lies, looking like someone catching a glimpse of their crush. 
"I love you," he whispers, his voice barely audible. 
You turn your head to face him and smile tenderly, the morning glow illuminating you from behind. You are so beautiful, he thinks, beautiful and pregnant, and he is so lucky. 
Your voice is filled with genuine happiness, warm and loving. You look down at your sleeping children, place a hand on your bump, and then look back up at him, "We love you too.”
.
.
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upsidedownwithsteve · 11 hours
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Steve Harrington x fem!reader [4.2K] loosely based on the movie float, lifeguard!steve, a summer full of swim lessons. mentions of drowning, eventual smut 18+
LESSON #1
“Oh, come on,” the guy coaxed, voice wheedling and a little slurred. 
You didn’t really know him, a friend of a friend's cousin who was visiting from out of town but he’d been cute enough to entertain five beers ago. He’d grown sloppier now, a little leery, his hand around your wrist as he udder you towards the dock that overlooked Lover’s Lake. 
You’d dug your heels in, smiling through your teeth as you shook your head and tried not to spill the cheap wine Robin had brought down the front of your shirt. The small beach that was hidden in a cove was surrounded by trees, green in the summer, full and making the crescent moon strip of land perfect for a bonfire and for some drinking. 
There were small crowds of people all over the sandy patch, sitting on blankets and cheap camping chairs, familiar faces lit by the small fire, people you didn’t know as well lingering between, bare feet on the edge of the shoreline. 
You’d came with Eddie, riding in the front seat of his van with a rucksack full of corner store liquor on your lap, the smell of weed coming off strong from the pocket inside his leather jacket. 
“A night full of potential clients, sweetheart, please,” he’d pleaded with you, brown button eyes wide. “The Jacksons have their cousins over from the backass of Georgia, they’ll pay for the rest of our summer if I show them the good shit.”
So you’d agreed, albeit grudgingly, letting your best friend haul you off your sofa and to the get together that you didn’t really want to go to. But Robin was there, and Nancy too, a few people you hadn’t seen since senior year, back for the summer to visit their folks and well - it wasn't all bad. 
Then the evening faded into night and the lavender skies turned inky, the same shade as the lake water. And when people got a little looser, whisky and bud light warming their veins, they laughed as they stripped down to mismatched underwear and dove off the dock, splashing and shrieking in water you couldn’t see the bottom of and god—
You’d, grimaced, turning away from the shoreline and sticking close to Eddie, the boy’s arm always brushing your own even when he was busy dealing, twenties fisted in his hand as he passed over baggies to a twenty something girl you’d never seen before. 
But then that guy found you, relatively sober and sweet until he wasn’t, sloppy with his arm around your neck, breath smelling like smoke and beer and he was pulling you towards the people in the water, telling you it was all part of the fun. You’d protested immediately, intensely, eyes wide as the water came closer and your feet hit the wooden planks of the dock. 
Between the gaps, you could see black, dark water rippling, the moon overhead glinting white off the tips of the current. Eddie hadn’t noticed you were gone until the stranger had dragged you half way down the decking. Your wrist burned from how tight he held it, how hard you tried to twist it from his grasp. 
“Hey— hey!” Eddie had barked out, loud and brash and aggressive enough to make a lot of people around him startle. He broke free from the circle that had gathered around him, lips set in a snarl and determination in his eyes. You knew fine well that when Eddie got his hands on this guy, it wasn’t going to be pretty. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Let her fucking go—”
But Eddie couldn’t reach you in time, not when his boots dug too deep into the sand and there were too many people to push out of the way. The guy laughed at a joke you weren’t a part of and then he pushed. 
Your arms swung wildly, windmilling as gravity took over, your balance gone and you were too near the edge of the dock to do anything about it. Your hands grabbed at the air, fingertips just brushing your new acquaintances shirt and his grinning face and beer blurred eyes were the last thing you saw before you back hit the water. 
It was as dark underneath the surface of the lake as it was above it, an icy shock despite how warm the day had been, how the heat still lingered in the night. You gasped, immediately inhaling, murky water filling your mouth and throat and you kicked, hoping that the direction your hands were clawing in was up. 
But nothing happened and your body didn’t move. 
On the beach, people were murmuring, too drunk to consider the consequences, too stoned to fly into action. Besides, only seconds had passed. Bubbles were floating in the spot you’d gone under, ripples evidence of the fact that you’d once been there. Eddie was sweating, shoving at people as he ripped off his leather jacket and prepared to vault himself onto the water after you but someone at the bottom of the deck beat him to it. 
Steve Harrington had dropped his beer at the first sign of the commotion, his part in the conversation with Jonathan Byers and his friend from California dying off as he turned to watch a guy he didn’t know drag you down the dock. The stranger had been laughing but you hadn’t, and before he could say something, Steve only had a second to look at the absolute horror on your face before you were forced backwards and into the lake. 
He was on his feet immediately, facing back up the dock to where you’d disappeared from, watching wildly for signs of you returning to the surface. And then Eddie was yelling at him, pushing past some underage kids from out of town, half of his jacket hanging from his shoulders and he was yelling. 
“Steve! Steve, she can’t fuckin’ swim, man—”
If Eddie finished the sentence or said anything else, Steve didn’t hear it. He launched himself off of the side, hitting the cold water with a splash he didn’t hear. Water filled his ears and fuck, he could barely see. But somewhere a little below him there was a flash of white from your shirt that had tangled itself up around your neck, your arms flailing wildly as you tried your damn hardest to kick up the way. 
Steve had grabbed your arm, your panic making you slip before he curled his fingers around your wrist and then you were being hauled against him, your back to his chest as he moved with a confidence you could never imagine for yourself. You’d been under for a minute, maybe a little more, maybe a little less, but Steve had your head breaking the surface of the lake in seconds. You were gasping and coughing, your fingernails tattooing half moon lines in Steve’s forearm as you held onto him, fear gripping you as hard as you did him. 
You thought you’d heard his voice, a low murmur in your ear that was fuzzy from the water lodged there, from the buzz and clamour that had then awoken on the beach as the music stopped and people were gathered by the shoreline. 
Eddie had been knee deep in the water, readily meeting you and Steve as the boy swam closer with you, and once your feet hit the sandy bottom, you lurched forward, hands held out to grab Eddie’s waiting ones. 
Steve’s were on your back, keeping you upright and steady until he saw that Eddie had you. You and Steve were both dripping and Eddie was swearing, his cheeks red and his eyes wide, unsure whether to rush you to his van first or hunt down the creep that had put you in danger in the first place. 
But Nancy was rushing forward with a blanket, wrapping it around your shoulders and taking in your chattering teeth and panicked stare, the vice-like grip you had around Eddie’s fingers. “He’s gone,” she said to the boy. “He ran off when he saw Steve dive in. Just get her home, Eddie.”
Steve Harrington had ended up in the front bench with you in Eddie’s van, your shivering frame sandwiched between both boy’s and no one said anything until you all got back to Eddie’s trailer. 
You hadn’t said anything as you’d headed for a hot shower, your wet clothes slapping on the bathroom tiles as you had stripped, slimy weeds and grains of sand stuck to your cold skin and your hands were still shaking as you twisted the squeaky handle to turn the water up hotter still. 
And when Eddie was ripping his room apart for dry clothes for you and Steve to change into, his eyes watery with anger, his throat tight with rage, Steve had been leaning against his door frame with his arms crossed over his damp chest.  
“We’ll get him,” he’d said quietly, just in case you could hear above the spluttering of the old pipes. “We’ll find out who he was and— and we’ll deal with him and then I’m gonna teach her how to swim, alright?”
Eddie nodded, movements sharp and jerky and he handed Steve a pair of black sweatpants and an old Metallica shirt. 
“Alright?” Steve had repeated, chin ducked to make Eddie meet his gaze. He had been so serious. “I’m gonna give her lessons. This won’t happen again.”
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The sky was still half pink as you biked down the empty sidewalk. 
A blue-lilac colour, softer than you’d usually witness due to the early morning hour. The sun was still low, the town still asleep, the watch on your wrist telling you the seven am was still to come. Your bike chain whirred softly, brakes squeaking as you slowed by the chain link fence. 
Hawkins community pool was sun bleached and well loved, the old bunting that draped over the water barely red and blue, the shutters for the food stand still rolled down and locked. The aquamarine slide was now more white and it looked like it would give you an infection if your skin was to snag on one of the exposed bolts. But the gate was open, only just, and you sucked in a deep breath as you let your bike lean against the wall. 
Chlorine filled your nose as you walked in, the generator humming and the pool filter trickling, the sun loungers empty and still stacked against the changing rooms. Despite your early wake up call, the air was already warm, a humid kind of heat that Indiana summers brought, sticky and sweet smelling, like someone had left a jug of peach tea on their porch all day. 
The tiles that surrounded the pool were wet, recently hosed down and cleaned, and your sneakers slapped noisily as you walked towards the waters edge. You didn’t go too close, not at all, grimacing at the bright blue rectangle like it would force you in itself. It seemed somehow more menacing when it was still, a glasslike surface reflecting the cotton candy sky above it, no splashing and screaming kids to fill its depths. 
Then a boy appeared - no, more man than boy - from the staff building. 
He had red shorts on, the fabric sitting above his knees and an old white shirt that you assumed must’ve once said “lifeguard.” He was barefoot and tanned, sunglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose and he didn’t even notice you at first, too busy hanging a net back onto the wall. 
Steve Harrington was pretty and tall and he had really good hair. He was quieter than when you’d know him in high school, softer looking than he’d once been. But you didn’t really know him and he didn’t really know you. But he was friends with Eddie and you were friends with Eddie, so somehow, someway, that meant you were kind of, almost friends with him too. 
Except you weren’t and you had no idea why you’d agreed to this. 
“You can change in there.”
You hadn’t expected his voice, so you startled, arms wrapping tighter around your body and crushing the small rucksack that housed your suit and towel. You frowned at the idea, because changing meant one step closer to going into the water and you weren’t quite sure you wanted to do that yet. 
So you said nothing.
Steve just watched you from across the pool, brows raised. And then he shrugged and muttered something that sounded like “suit yourself,” before he threw his sunglasses onto a plastic chair and tugged his shirt over his head. 
You’d barely gotten a chance to really look at the quick flash of tanned, bare skin he exposed before he dove into the water, barely causing a ripple. You were slack jawed as you watched him move seamlessly below the surface, his body a pretty shade of blue as his muscles flexed, strong back and broad shoulders stretching as he swam. 
When he reappeared, much closer to you, Steve braced his forearms on the edge of the pool and dragged a hand through his wet hair, strands of it plastered to his forehead, water clinging to his lashes. 
You didn’t know where to look. 
“You’re not going to learn much if you don’t take your clothes off.”
Despite the way his words warmed you, skin heating up the same way the morning was, you scowled. You didn’t want to be here. Not at the pool, not around water, not with Steve Harrington and certainly not at seven in the morning on a Saturday. 
And now you were standing under the morning sun and the same boy that saved you from the lake was squinting up at you from the pool below and you were only really here because Eddie had begged you. 
It had been a whole week and you could still taste lake water on the back of your tongue. 
“Changing rooms are over there,” Steve motioned to the building behind you with a tilt of his head.
You tried not to look at him, or the water, when you nodded tightly, dragging yourself off to the ladies section. And when you came back out, the sun had risen just a little more and Steve was still in the pool, floating easily on his back as he used his arms to move slowly around the water. The rays were glinting off of the water and him, toned shoulders and soft stomach glittering with water droplets and suddenly the pool seemed an even scarier place to be. 
The old swimsuit you’d managed to pull on was a little on the tight side, all black and supposed to be modest if the too small size hasn’t been cutting into the swells of your ass and chest. It had been a good few years since you’d had reason to put it on, and even then, you hadn’t gone near water. A beach day on the Fourth of July with enough space between you and the ocean that you hadn’t even minded the sand too much. 
So you stood with your arms crossed over your chest, trying to hide the expanse of skin there, your knees pressed together and you looked downright mournful about your current predicament. If Steve hadn’t remembered the fear in your eyes that night in the lake as you scrambled for him under the water, he would’ve cracked a joke or two. 
Instead, he swam over to you cautiously, fingers curling around the edge of the pool as he swiped his wet hair from his forehead. “Hey,” he began gently. The town still hadn’t woken up yet, not really. It was just Steve’s voice and the hum of the pool filter, some cicadas buzzing in a bush behind the far side of the fence. “Nothing bad is going to happen, alright? Not here.”
You looked at him like you didn’t believe him, eyes wide and lips drawn into a tight line. You didn’t move an inch. And it wasn’t because you didn’t trust him, not really. You were exactly friends but Steve was close with Eddie and if Eddie trusted him— well. He got an automatic pass from you too. 
Eddie didn’t trust a whole lot of people. 
But the problem wasn’t Steve. It was most definitely the rectangle full of blue water, shimmering and pretty as it was, it looked deep, the slope of it going downdowndown and Steve’s body was distorted under the ripples, his legs looking broken and mangled, the surface lapping way too high across his shoulders and neck. 
Your body felt like lead, a dead weight ready to sink to the pool floor, legs unable to push yourself back up. 
You took a step back. 
“Okay,” Steve sighed and he tried really hard to not sound impatient. The day had barely begun and he’d make a promise to Eddie, one he really didn’t want to break. “We’ll take it back a little, yeah? Come over here.” 
You watched as he pulled himself out of the pool with an impressively low amount of effort. The muscles in his shoulders and back bunched up and he swung a leg onto the tiles before standing, water dripping off of him, cool and splashing your toes. He made a point of not looking at your and all your bare skin as he walked around the edge of the pool, right towards the back of the lot where there was a set of stairs that led into the shallow end. 
He didn’t look over his shoulder to check if you were following and you only hesitated for a second or two before you did. And when he reached the top of the steps, he waited for you and held out his hand, brows raised expectantly. 
You stared back. 
The water didn’t look as scary here, but not by a whole bunch. It was lighter blue, the white tiles on the bottom of the pool about more visible and the numbers that were flaking and painted on the side of the wall said the depth was only two and a half feet. 
You could drown in less, the voice in your head told you. It sounded a lot like your mom. 
So you kept your arms crossed for a little while longer, teeth gnawing unkindly at your bottom lip. Steve just waited, hand extended palm up and after a minute had passed, he took one step into the pool, standing ankle deep in the water on the top stair. He caught your eye then, smiling in what he hope was a reassuring way. 
“D’you trust me?” He asked, eyes squinting in the bright sun. There was a mole on his cheek that disappeared into the lines of his skin when he smiled. “S’okay if you don’t yet, but, I’m a lifeguard here, so like, legally? I can’t let you die.”
You surprised both yourself and the boy when you snorted unexpectedly, a sharp sound of amusement that you used a hand to cover up. But it seemed to encourage Steve, ‘cause he positively beamed at you, his hand wiggling, vying for your own. 
“C’mon, I promise I won’t let you go,” he swore. He leaned further forward, his fingers close enough to brush the softness of your stomach, if he so pleased. He didn’t. “We’ll start nice and easy today, alright?”
It felt momentous, when you slid your hand into his. He was still warm despite his pool damp skin, like the sun lived inside his bones. He grinned, victorious, nodding encouragingly when you moved to the edge of the steps. 
“We’ll do them one at a time, alright?” Steve moved to stand in front of you, his other hand catching your free one until he was guiding you closer and closer to the water, walking himself backwards with every step you took forward. You flinched when your foot hit the first step, the water warmer than you’d anticipated, brushing up just past your ankle. 
You had two feet in the pool and two hands in Steve Harrington’s and it felt like the entire world was about to implode on you. 
“There you go,” Steve murmured, warmth and a little hum of pride in his voice. “See? S’not bad, right? I’ve still got you.” So you took another step and another and suddenly the water was lapping at your knees. You froze, grip tightening around Steve’s fingers and your wide eyes found his, all too aware of the way you were very much in the pool now. 
“Hey, hey,” Steve’s thumbs rubbed over the back of your knuckles, the skin there burning from holding him so tightly. “Listen. Do you trust me?”
There was no joke that followed the question this time. His eyes were earnest and warm, serious as they looked at you, searching your face for any signs that you were going to flee. It took you a few seconds, swallowing dryly and taking a deep, staggering breath before you nodded. You did, you did trust him, and that was as surprising as you being in the pool. 
“Yeah,” you told Steve, voice a little weak and hoarse. “Yeah, I trust you.”
He squeezed your fingers and his smile was gentle, an achingly kind thing that made your eyes water in the corners and Steve let you stand on that middle step for a little while longer. “Good,” he finally said and his voice was as soft as yours had been. You tried not to look at the way the chain around his throat caught the sunlight, the silver turning golden, just like his skin. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not going to let anything happen to you, okay?”
You nodded, feverish and your movements jagged and you tore your eyes from Steve to look at your bare feet on the steps, your toes waving under the ripples, longer and skinnier and then fatter and wider. The sight made you dizzy, stomach tumbling a little but even still, you wished you’d had the forethought to paint your toenails something pretty. 
“Two more steps, alright?” 
Steve’s encouragement broke your senseless wanderings and you nodded again, words caught in your throat and he was leading you forward, hands wrapped around your own and he grinned when you took another step down, the water hitting your upper thighs. It was cooler as you went deeper, a stark contrast to the warm, sticky air above it and your skin prickled, mouth falling in a quiet gasp. Another step, happening almost too fast for you to overthink it, the water at your hips and making you swear as you rose onto your toes almost instinctively. 
Steve laughed, not unkindly, as you moved closer to him, unthinking as your hands left his in favour of clinging to his upper arms. It felt safer like that, anchoring yourself to his solid frame, but there was so much bare skin involved and not a lot of space left between you both as you held on for dear life. His fingertips brushed the sides of your waist before he must’ve thought better of it, cheeks burning before his hands cupped your elbows and he took a little step back so your chest didn’t touch his. 
“You’re alright,” he murmured. “You did it, yeah? That’s it. You’re in.”
Steve was grinning and you tried to smile too, trying to feel proud of your little accomplishment but the rest of the pool was stretched out behind Steve’s shoulder and the water there was so much more blue, cerulean leading into indigo until you couldn’t see the bottom anymore. 
Steve must’ve noticed cause he shook his head, the hand cupping your elbow smoothing up your arm until he squeezed, water dripping from his palms and coasting down your skin. “Hey, hey, none of that. That’s for another day. We’re staying here, alright?”
You grimaced at the idea of ‘another day,’ but his words still didn’t ease you. You licked at your lips, dots of chlorine on them and despite how stupid you felt, you asked anyway. “What if— what if l, like, float over that way? Accidentally.”
Steve smiled like he couldn’t help himself, laughter in his eyes and a grin that he quickly tamed. “We’re not gonna catch any waves in here, this isn’t Maui,” he was still smiling, teasing, just a little. But sensing your growing worry, he continued. “And if that had to happen - which it won’t - I’ll come and get you.”
You stared at him, heartbeat in your throat and so many other questions on your tongue. They died there, fizzing into nothing as Steve held your gaze, a silent promise in his brown eyes. You’d never noticed how long and thick his lashes were, still wet and spiky from when he’d been swimming as you changed. 
Maybe there was doubt in your eyes, or maybe Steve just felt the need to reiterate his statement, but when he said once more, “I’ll come get you, just like last time,” you really did believe him. 
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✯my entry for the @croptopjames fest✯
jegulus | 1.3k | non-canon/magical au
summary:
It was revenge, they say, for a prank they played on the other houses. So if Lupin and Pettigrew got their trousers turn into shorts, and Black got his shirt turn into a crop top, then that means Potter—
“Did you hear what happened?”
“They say it was revenge for a prank on the other houses,”
“Seems like a weird way to take revenge,”
“Someone said it was a new statement for the dress code,”
“Of course those Gryffindors would come up with something like that,”
“Mila from my transfiguration class says someone charmed their clothes to transform into something else whenever they wear it. You know, trousers turn into shorts and—”
“Oh, so that’s why Lupin and Pettigrew were wearing shorts! But why was Black’s shirt cropped? Not that I mind the view but—”
“Maybe the spell worked in pairs? If Lupin and Pettigrew got shorts, and Black’s shirt was cropped, then maybe Potter got—”
But Regulus had heard enough.
He should’ve known something was off the moment he crossed Lupin and Pettigrew earlier that day wearing shorts of all things, but if he was completely honest with himself, his mind was somewhere else and didn’t even think twice about it. But now, after eavesdropping on a conversation of some sixth years, maybe he shouldn’t have been so dismissive.
Entering the Great Hall for lunch, Regulus makes a b-line for his seat at the end of the Slytherin table and starts filling his plate absentmindedly, trying to ignore the sight of his brother at the Gryffindor table, talking animatedly to Lupin and Pettigrew, still in those ridiculous clothes. His mind inevitably going to the person who’s conveniently, not among them.
The thing is, Regulus isn’t capable of thinking of a piece of clothing that would look bad on James Potter.
He has seen the guy practising on the Quidditch pitch for Salazar’s sake. He has had a front row of what James’ body looks like when he leans on his broom, quaffle in hand, gaining some speed over his fellow teammates. He has seen how his forearms look when he grips the handle hard and how his thighs squeeze the rear of the broom when he’s doing a particularly hard move so he doesn’t fall.
So no, he doesn't think there’s a piece of clothing that would look bad on him, he could pull any look, especially a crop top, and that is the problem, isn’t it?
Regulus could feel his cheeks warming at the thought. Oh no this is bad, what he’s going to do if he sees him wearing that? He’s going to make a fool of himself and he can’t afford that. No, Regulus needs to get the fuck out of there if he wants to make it with his dignity intact.
Practically stuffing his face, Regulus tries to be as quick as possible, cursing in his mind at the idiot who hexed James Potter to be stuck with that particular piece of clothing, or lack thereof, more like.
“Let it not be said that we don’t do anything nice for you, Regulus,” a voice comes from behind and Regulus freezes and then groans.
Looking up from his plate, he eyes the pair who has taken the seats in front of him, both looking smug as fuck, “You guys are unbelievable,”
Evan hums in agreement, “Aren’t we just?”
“Wasn’t a compliment,”
Barty tuts disapprovingly, stealing a piece of food from Regulus' plate and popping it in his mouth, “Why Regulus, we thought you would be thrilled by this, can’t believe you’re this ungrateful.”
“Crop tops, really?” He huffs, stabbing whatever is left of his chicken, “And don’t get me started on the shorts.”
“Those were my idea,” Evan mentions.
Regulus doesn’t get it, “Why though?”
“We couldn’t be so obvious and only hex Potter, we had to cover our traces,” Barty says, turning his head slightly to look at the Gryffindor table. “Besides, the others look ridiculous, minus your brother of course, the bastard is fit as fuck.”
“Why though?” Regulus repeats, this time even more aggravated at the notion of Barty ogling his brother.
Evan gives him a pointed look, “You know why,”
Regulus drop his gaze, sniffing lightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,”
Barty smirks at him, “You will,”
There’s a sudden ruckus at the entrance. The voices grow loud and you could hear some whistles here and there but what actually catches Regulus’ eyes when he looks up, is the man at the doors.
Something inside him is pleased to notice he was right about James looking good in any piece of clothing, especially something that would show his really fit body. James is looking a little dishevelled, but that only makes him look even prettier. Still enthralled by the sight of James Potter wearing something this sinful, Regulus notices a little too late a voice shouting really close to him, efficiently taking him out of his rivery.
“Looking good, Potter!”
“Barty!” Regulus hisses in embarrassment as James looks in his direction. And oh, the way he smiles at Regulus as soon as their eyes connect.
Regulus is incapable of doing much else under the intensity of that look, he wants to run like he had planned before. He wants to hide, not only from James but from the way he feels when he’s near. Pathetic as it is, the only thing Regulus is capable of doing is following James as he makes his way to the Slytherin table.
Regulus blinks hard at that. Wait, Slytherin table?
Before Regulus can process that, James is already standing right in front of him.
“Rosier, Crouch,” he greets them, still not taking his eyes off Regulus.
“Potter,” Barty nods in his direction. “Nice shirt, does it come in men’s?”
James grin turns sharp, “You don’t want me to answer that, Crouch,”
“Okay, time to go, have a great one!” Evan practically drags Barty aways as the latter cackles like a madman all the way out of the Great Hall.
When his laugh fades, James is still in front of Regulus and Regulus is purposefully looking at anything but his face, so his gaze inevitably fall at the only thing at his eye-level, James’ stomach.
There are beads of sweet running down over that beautiful golden skin and all Regulus wants, is to touch it to see if it’s as soft as it looks. Wondering how it would feel under his teeth.
James clears his throat to catch Regulus' attention. Unnecessary, since he hasn’t lost it the moment he entered the Great Hall.
“So, Regulus,” he starts.
“Yes?” He can see the trail of hair disappearing under the navy trousers. He’s having a hard time not to reach out and touch it.
He’s being so brave about this whole thing, someone should notified his mind-healer.
A beat of silence and then a hand, reaching for his chin and turning his face up, callous fingers against his soft skin. The sight of James’ playful smile makes something inside him melt.
“My eyes are up here, love.”
His cheeks get warmer out of the embarrassment of being caught. Not that he was subtle in the least but still, embarrassing.
James doesn’t seem to mind in the least.
“You’re blushing,” he notices.
Regulus' face is practically red at this point.
“Shut up,” he grumbles and James chuckles.
“No, no, I like it,” he says, voice soft. “Red looks good on you,” and then he proceed to fucking caressing his cheek.
It’s settled then, Regulus is living inside a romantic novel where making a fool out of yourself in front of someone you fancy is necessary and crop tops are a thing.
“What do you want?”
“Just wanting to say hello,” James says, eyes softening. “Hello,”
“Hi,” Regulus says, like an idiot.
“Fancy a Quidditch game with me?”
Regulus frowns. “Right now?”
“Why not?”
“You’re not wearing the proper gear,”
James smirks, “I think I will manage,”
This is a bad idea, a terrible one and Regulus knows it, everyone knows it and yet— “Lead the way then,”
James lets his hand drop from his face, and it takes all of Regulus not to chase the touch, but the feeling of loss is quickly replaced with excitement when he sees James holding his hand up for Regulus to take.
Regulus does, of course he does.
Hand in hand, they make it to the Quidditch pitch.
Together.
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welcometomyoasis · 2 days
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To all the love letters I wrote but never sent | Xu Minghao
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Synopsis: what happens when your best friend, minghao, finds the secret stash of love letters you’ve been writing to him over the past few years?  Minghao x gn! reader | fluff, best friends to lovers | w.c | warnings: mention of a drug (minghao is said drug) | not proof read A/n: happy birthday @haecien! Idk, when i think of you i think of letters… can you tell?
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For years, you’ve been utterly and hopelessly in love with your best friend, Minghao. 
At first, you thought it was just a passing phase of infatuation. You know the one which happens when you begin to get a little too close to your best friend? It’s the time when you begin to sit a little closer to them, you begin to lean into them, share secrets with them, stare into their eyes as they talk and then watch as their eyes stare back intensely at you. Your mind starts to make weird connections that maybe these actions aren’t so platonic anymore? Maybe, just maybe there’s a spark between the two of you? 
You didn’t really bother to think too much about it, thinking that the phase would eventually run its course, that it would eventually pass. He’s your best friend after all. There’s going to be some level of connection or intense emotions shared between the two of you. It will pass, and then everything will go back to normal.
Oh you were so wrong. What you thought would be a simple passing phase of infatuation turned into a full blown crush, one which you could not control. Everything about Minghao was so infuriatingly intoxicating. You hated how attentive he was, you hated how pretty his eyes were, you hated the way he had with words, you hated all the details you noticed about Minghao because they only made you fall in love with him more. The more details you noticed about Minghao, the more time you spent with him, the more you wanted him, and the more you needed him. He was like a drug, one that you couldn’t get enough of. You lived off the high of being near him, all while hating the fact that he was yours, but not in the way you wanted. He was your best friend. Not, your boyfriend. 
You hid your feelings of course, behind a smile and the facade of a supportive, loving best friend, out of fear your feelings would change the friendship you held so dearly to your heart. You were scared your feelings would frighten him, chase him away. Because as much as the proximity between you and Minghao pained you, it gave you the pleasurable high you never ever wanted to come down from. 
But the pain of being near someone who you believed would not, and could not love you back was overwhelming. It began to consume you. You needed an outlet. You needed a way to write down all the feelings you had for Minghao, just in a way he would never find out. 
So, you settled on pouring your feelings out through letters. You guided your pen across the paper, letting the ink act as your messenger for the heartfelt words you longed to tell him. Whenever you felt like your feelings for Minghao were too much, you would write. You chuckled at how silly it was, writing letters to someone who was never supposed to receive them. Still, it must have worked because writing everything down helped to soothe the pain in your heart until it was only a dull ache. 
Months and years passed. Your stash of secret love letters seemed to only grow thicker with each passing day. And you swore to yourself that Minghao would never find out about the letters. 
Or, at least that was what you thought. Life always seemed to throw you unexpected curveballs, though, not all of them were bad. 
࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃 
“Y/n! Do you have my charger? I think I left it in your room the last time I was over!”
“You… Hao! You’re always leaving things over, maybe you should just move in! It should be in one of the drawers at my desk. Try the one on the bottom left!”
Snickering at your frustrated tone, Minghao walked over to your desk. His eyes scanned the books and sticky notes scattered across your desk. You would never change would you? You were always going to be that messy person he met on the first day of grade six in school. Well, that was just one of the many, many things he adored about you. 
Flushing at the thought, Minghao shook his head. He needed to find his charger to charge his dying phone, not charge the (definitely not platonic) feelings he had towards you that only seemed to grow stronger with each passing day. Crouching over your desk, he pulled the bottom left drawer open. He clicked his tongue once again when he saw his charger lying within a mess of twisted cords and wires. He picked it up, and shut the drawer. He was going to have to teach you the art of tying your wires together neatly, again. 
As Minghao was about to get up, a shiny box tucked beside your desk caught his eye. Pulling the box up with him, he lightly swept his hand across the top to remove the dust that had piled on there. He shook the box gently. What was in it? Since when did you have this box? Raising it to his eye level, he inspected the box closely. Noticing some writing at the bottom, he squinted. 
“To all the love letters I wrote but never sent”
Love letters? Slightly taken aback, Minghao almost dropped the box. He knew you were hopelessly pining after some guy for years. You had told him that. It pained him to know your heart belonged to someone else, but he always told you to go for it. You never know, maybe the guy you like liked you back. Somehow, you never did. Wanting to respect your boundaries, he never pushed you further than that. 
Minghao sighed. He should really put this back. This was obviously your private stash of love letters to the guy you were pining after. He gripped the box tightly at the thought of you hunched over, pouring your heart out on paper to someone that wasn’t him. His heart clenched. You’ve loved this guy for years, and he did want to know who this idiot was. Which idiot were you so afraid to confess to? Maybe it was Junhui, one of your other best friends. You two were close, and he knew Junhui had a small, tiny crush on you. Minghao growled a little, Junhui…. That little… The more he thought about it, the more annoyed he got. 
Minghao was torn. He really wanted to know who you loved. But no, he would never invade someone’s privacy and breach their trust like that. He would never do that to anyone, especially not to you. 
“Hao?”
Your voice broke Minghao out of his intense train of thought. Alarmed, Minghao peered up at you, “I’m sorry! I saw this shiny box! I didn’t open it though!”
You stared at the box in Minghao’s hands, wide eyed. He found it? Fidgeting on the spot, you bit your lip, trying to calm the hot flush that was rising quickly up your face. You knew Minghao was telling the truth, he wouldn’t open the box. It’s just the thought of him finding that box out of all the things you had littered around your room. It was embarrassing and horridly nerve wrecking.
Noticing your discomfort, Minghao spoke gently, “Y/n, I’m really sorry. I’ll put it back.”
Impulsively, you shook your head. Your brain was fried, your emotions were going into overdrive, but something inside told you that it was okay to let Minghao know. It was finally time for you to tell him. You loved him. 
You took a deep breath, “You can open it.”
“Y/n, you don’t have to… this is your personal box…”
“Hao. It’s okay. I want you to.”
Staring into your eyes intently to make sure it was really okay, you affirmed his wordless question with a slight nod. 
Minghao set the box on your desk, and gingerly opened the lid. Picking up the stack of letters gently, Minghao shuffled through them quickly, noticing how the date of each one went back further and further. He inhaled sharply. You must really love this guy… Setting his sights on one where the title was bolded and written larger than the rest, he pulled it out of its place between the rest of the pieces of paper.
He let his eyes run across the title.
I think I love him. 
He unfolded the letter, scanning through it quickly. 
I think I love him.  The way he laughs, it’s so melodious.  Like a harmony sung by the most prestigious choirs. 
I think I love him.  His eyes, the way he looks at me.  It brings out my inner most desires.
I think I love him.  It’s the little things he does like carry my bag, buy me a drink. Even the way he helps me tie my wires.
I think I love him.  Minghao, that’s his name.  I want him so badly but alas, what I want will never transpire. 
Minghao? That’s his name… He rereads the letter again, staring intensely at the line that his name is written. Him? The idiot he was talking about earlier… It was him? 
Minghao’s eyes widened in shock. You loved him.
As the realisation kicked in, a tiny glint in his eye appeared. You loved him. 
Letting a toothy grin spread across his face, he looked at you excitedly. 
You reeled back, slightly unsure as to why Minghao was acting in such an unMinghao-like manner. Why was he smiling? He literally just found out that the person you’ve been pining after for years was him. Shouldn’t he be creeped out? Yell at you? You’ve been writing about him for years…
“I LOVE YOU TOO!” Minghao exclaimed.
You stilled. What? Did you hear him wrongly… 
You chuckled nervously, “Hao? Say that again?”
Shaking his head, Minghao walked over to you in a few big strides. Shoving the letter right in your face, Minghao repeated himself, “I SAID, I LOVE YOU TOO!”
Watching Minghao’s bright eyes, his words finally began to sink in. You yelled, “WHAT? YOU’RE TELLING ME, WE COULD HAVE ALREADY BEEN DATING BY NOW?”
Minghao nodded, laughing at your reaction. That was what he loved so much about you. Your reactions were somehow always so perfect. 
Using his free hand to lift your hand in front of your face, Minghao intertwined your fingers. He placed a gentle kiss on your knuckles, “Yes, we could have… but it’s not too late to start? In fact, now that we both know, how about we ditch the work we were going to do and go on our very first date?”
Scrunching your nose and looking at Minghao adoringly, you replied with a kiss on his knuckles, “Of course. And you know. Just in case you didn’t already know. I love you. A lot.”
Minghao leaned towards you, “No, no, I know. But I think you’re going to need to rewrite the description of your box.”
“And what’s that?”
Clenching your hand a little tighter, Minghao replies with a smile, “To all the love letters I wrote but never sent, don’t worry because he got them anyway.”
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taglist: @weird-bookworm @wonijinjin @babyleostuff @wishing-fieshes @kwanienies @mayashu @megseungmin @porridgesblog @haecien @mirxzii @scoupsofcherries @eightlightstar @brownsugarbaybee @zaggprincess2 @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @treehouse-mouse @vcutparis
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bitchy-craft · 24 hours
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PICK A CARD: What they want to say to you
Hello and welcome to this new post of mine! I will give you a reading on what certain people want to say to you even though they’re afraid to do so for whatever reason. I hope you guys enjoy and find this interesting.
Masterpost > Paid Readings
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~pick a card~
Pile 1:
This message to you is from a parental figure with a masculine energy. They want you to know that they’re incredibly proud of you and that they see how much you’ve progressed over the years, how much you’ve grown and how much you’ve endured. They want you to know that they think you’re incredibly strong and that they look up to you due to how well you’ve been keeping your head high in difficult situations.
This parental figure wants to apologise to you as well; they are aware they aren’t the best at communication, at making clear what it is they feel and what it is they think of you. They also hope you can forgive them for all the faults they’ve made over the years, and some hope you’ll be able to give them a second chance.
Pile 2:
This is a message to you from a younger person with feminine energy, for most of you this being a sibling. They want you to know they look up to you and that you’re really cool and a super hero as well. They want to thank you for all it is that you’ve done for them, and that they hope you’ll continue to spend time with them even if the communication lessens a bit over time.
They love seeing you happy and wish to continue seeing you happy; you deserve to be happy because you’ve made them happy countless of times before. They are proud to know you and be connected to you; they even speak fondly of you to their friends sometimes because they look up to you so much.
Pile 3:
This message is from an animal (didn’t expect an animal to come by). Keep in mind that you don’t need to have a pet to be able to resonate with this message; there are animals all around us, and many of them will have seen you a lot of times even if you haven’t paid attention to them before.
This animal wants you to know that they see and notice you having difficult moments, that you’re hurting and sometimes feel hopeless in all it is you need to do, what is expected from you and how you feel. They want you to know that you’re allowed to cry, allowed to pity yourself, especially if you don’t believe you have it hard enough to feel that wat. That everything will be okay and that you’ll eventually find your way through life, just like they did. You will be free and have fun eventually, and that you must not give up to finally feel all what life is about.
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