#for the most part it's all just.....weird to me

[slvttyplum]

✮ part two of: roomie suguru wants to fuck you.

the question hit you like a truck, suguru's hands fidgeting and sweating as he looked at you with pleading eyes, the stirring in his jeans starting again.

please say yes, please say yes, please say yes, please say-

"where do you get off talking like that?" taking a step back into your room, but your eyes not letting you look away from him, slowly sliding down to his shirtless frame, then to his pajama pants that were so low you could almost see it.

dear lord.

"hopefully to you." a slight smirk as he says it, trying to put on his best poker face, covering up that corny-ass line. his eyes slowly follow your curves and the way your clothes hug your body just right.

he had to have you; this was a matter of life and death. his fucking dick was going to fall off from all the swelling, but it was partially his fault because he just couldn't stop staring, and neither could you.

his eyes slowly slide back up to meet yours.

"we're both adults here; let's not think too much about it."

those words made something shift inside of you, a tingle erupting throughout your body but mostly in your panties, almost like a green light.

fuck.

suguru didn't waste a second; once you slipped off your shorts and panties, suguru was snug in between your thighs, his legs snaking around your thighs as he got comfortable.

so many conflicting thoughts were swarming through your mind; this was weird, right? two roommates hooking up? this is bad; you just couldn't think straight, but suguru was way more calm about this.

"wait, no, this is a mistake." your hand pushing his forehead back as he grips your thighs, straightening himself in between you to make himself comfortable.

his dick pushing against his pants and against the mattress, his heart racing and his face already flushed, his mouth salivating.

"you want to know what's a mistake? not doing this sooner." finally sliding his tongue out and over your slit, then immediately to your clit, softly licking back and forth.

the pleasure hit you hard, your heart pounding and your hands trembling. this felt different than the usual pussy eating you received, and suguru read that.

licking over your clit again, then slowly unhooking one of his arms and sliding a finger inside of you, curling it up, trying to feel you out and feel how you reacted.

your breath hitched as you grabbed a handful of his hair, your throat tightening along with your walls that clung around his fingers that were pumping away.

suguru moaned into your dripping core as his lower body pushed into the bed, moving his hips back and forth, trying to get some friction working out; he felt like he was going to explode.

maybe he didn't have to fuck you; maybe this was enough to hold him by, his eyes closing as his nose pushes against your core, wetting it up.

your moans were quiet, but your body did most of the talking for you, your toes curling and your knuckles sore from how hard you were holding him in place.

he was looking right at you, his gaze both captivating and piercing; he was focused on you and only you, his pace getting sloppy but still making sure you felt everything he was doing.

bucking your hips into him, getting his face all wet, letting all your worries on whether or not this was a bad idea let go.

"right there, don't stop."

suguru closing his eyes again right as the waterworks begin, his nose wet along with the rest of his face, his hair slowly coming out of a bun and a few strands sticking to his face.

you couldn't process anything; your eyes had those floaters, and your legs started to cramp.

the air was thick, and the silence spoke volumes.

your breathing was uneven, and your chest rose and fell rapidly; there were no words that could be spoken. he exceeded your expectations, and that turned you on.

suguru licked his fingers and threw a blanket over you, sitting by you and placing a hand on your thigh, the touch comforting for him; he almost wanted to cuddle you in his arms.

"text me if you ever wanna fuck; i'll drop everything." patting your thigh and leaving the room, softly closing the door behind him, his heart beating so fast he thought he was going to faint.

you, on the other hand, were still recovering, trying to get up to wash and change the sheets, smiling to yourself knowing you were going to be texting him soon.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured (Alexia's Version): Future V

Alexia Putellas x Daughter!Reader

Summary: You bring home your girlfriend

It’s not often that Alexia finds herself pacing.

She used to do it a lot when she was still playing. She used to pace before big games, up and down the length of the locker room until finally being allowed out to warm up.

This isn’t like that in the slightest.

This is her meeting your girlfriend.

Your Real Madrid girlfriend.

Alexia had thought you were dating that English girl that plays for Chelsea but apparently that was ‘just a fling’ and ‘sleeping with a friend’ which is something Alexia wasn’t quite sure was allowed but apparently it was.

She knew she had never let you go off to Madrid for a girl’s trip with some of the girls you dance with.

Look what had happened.

You’re bringing home one of Alexia’s worst enemies.

It leaves a bitter taste in her mouth as she peaks out of the front windows to see a fancy car pull up. It’s certainly not yours but you’re the one sliding out of the passenger seat.

Alexia breathes out along sigh as she  pulls herself away, desperate to not let you see her lurking.

“Jaume!” She yells up the stairs,” You sister and her girlfriend is here!”

No answer.

“Jaume!” Alexia yells again,” Stop hiding in your room!”

She waits for a second and then Jaume’s desk chair scrapes against his floor and Alexia can move away from the stairs.

“Olg-“

“I’m already here,” Olga says, breezing into the room with a smile on her face,” Ale, you look like you’re about to pop a vessel.” Her finger smooths down the wrinkle in Alexia’s brow. “Calm down. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

“Our daughter is bringing home an enemy. I’m allowed to be angry.”

“You’re not angry,” Olga says, a soft smile on her face as Alexia glances back at the door,” You’re nervous. You just want y/n to be happy and you’ve not met this girl yet.”

“I just don’t get why she didn’t just stick with the English girl!”

“I thought you didn’t approve of Aggie?”

“I didn’t! I don’t! I don’t know.” Alexia huffs, glancing away. “I just want her to be happy.”

“And I’m sure she’s very happy with Olaya. Now, put a smile on your face and pretend you aren’t nervous.”

“I’m not nervous!”

The doorknocker goes and Alexia jolts in shock.

“Aren’t you going to get it?” Jaume asks from the top of the stairs and Alexia scoffs.

“I don’t want them to know that I’ve been waiting on them.”

“You’re so weird.”

Alexia ignores her son, waiting a few more seconds before opening the door, plastering an incredibly fake smile on her face when she looks at your girlfriend.

To her credit, Olaya Rodrigeuz doesn’t cower much outside of the usual ‘oh my god, Alexia Putellas is looking at me!’.

“Mami,” You say warmly and Alexia’s fake smile morphs into a real one.

“My bambi,” She coos, hands coming up to hold your face,” I missed you.”

“You saw me last weak.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t miss-“

Alexia freezes as something cold and wet brushes up against her hand and she shrieks.

“Oh, sorry,” You laugh,” This is Flower.”

“That’s a bear.”

“He’s a puppy.”

“Shit, y/n,” Jaume says, forcing his way through the door,” Where did you get a bear?!”

“A puppy.”

“Puppy, bear, same thing,” Jaume says dismissively,” Where’d you get him?”

“I bought him,” Olaya replies as the three of you squeeze into the entrance hall,” Y/n was talking about getting a dog and I saw an ad so I just bought him without thinking.”

It’s probably overreacting on Alexia’s part but she can’t help but notice all the little things as Olaya talks about buying you your dog (who apparently you’ve named Flower). Alexia’s eyes narrow as Olaya’s hand splays out against your hip, the way that she pulls you a little closer and they way you automatically tilt your neck towards her as she presses a soft kiss to just under your jaw.

Your girlfriend is a lot older than you. It’s obvious to everyone but causes the most worry in Alexia.

It was never a secret that you preferred older women. For whatever reason, girls your age never really interested you.

But it always made Alexia wary, especially when said older woman spent money on things like a puppy and held you so close like you were some piece of arm candy.

But that might have just been Alexia’s own interpretation of it.

“Food?” Olga offers up from behind and you stand, clicking your tongue.

“I’ll help. Come on, Flower.”

Your puppy pads obediently over to you and Jaume trails behind, trying to be as close as possible to the bear-like puppy with the flowers on his collar.

Alexia holds her hand out.

Olaya takes it.

Alexia squeezes, her face a mask of indifference.

“So,” Alexia says,” You’re dating my daughter.”

“Yes.”

“And you bought her a puppy.”

“She wouldn’t have done it for herself. She really wanted one but she was nervous to take the last step.”

“So you just bought her a puppy.”

“Yes.”

Alexia stares, long and hard until Olaya visibly slumps, shoulders closing in on herself.

“And the puppy is hers, right? Like if you break up, she gets to keep him?”

Olaya nods. “Yes.”

“Good because she really looks like she loves that dog and I don’t want him taken from her.”

“I only want the best for her,” Olaya says, seemingly uncowed now.

Alexia allows the silence to grow stale for a moment before she finally drops Olaya’s hand.

It isn’t approval. Not yet. But it’s a truce. It’s a ‘I’m not going to throw you out of my house just yet’.

“Now,” Alexia says, leading your girlfriend into the kitchen,” Why don’t you introduce me to my new grandson?”

[captain-kit-adventuress]

Let me tell you some things about American plumbers probably almost none of you know, especially because I've seen people complaining that plumbers make "$42 an hour while I can't even make $15!"

[Note that much of this is state-specific, so ymmv, but most states have an interest in keeping it pretty similar to what I'm going to outline.]

First of all, you have to be licensed, and anything licensed takes forever and costs a fortune. You spend 7 years as an apprentice plumber, which means taking full-time classes on top of full-time work, for which you definitely do not get paid $42 an hour, and you're lucky if you get $20. You're on the hook for all of the tuition and books and whatever else, tools and whatnot, and we all know tuition and books are out of control, but have you seen what decent tools cost these days? This in addition to all of the regular school stuff like a computer, an internet connection, probably a mobile phone of some description, etc. Some you may have already and some you may not.

That's just the education part. Next, even after you've completed your 7 year apprenticeship under extremely strict and exacting standards, for which you get paid almost nothing and have tons of expenses just like any other student, you're still under some kind of supervision for another few years. So you've put in about 10 years into this already and you're nowhere near pulling in the kind of income that people say plumbers make.

But once you actually get into being licensed and bonded and the whole shebang, maybe you get a job with a company, because it's really hard to hang your own shingle, especially in the larger communities where nobody knows anybody else or the quality of their work. You'll work for a plumbing company like anyone else, and let me tell you, it's like any other company where profit matters most and it's for shareholders and not anyone else.

Now comes the part you probably have never heard about: many, many, many plumbers don't really have health insurance for most of their careers, and if they do, it's like the shittiest insurance possible and they have to pay for much of their healthcare out of pocket. Except that these are plumbers, they're constantly on hands and knees on hard, unyielding surfaces, bending, lifting...really physical, difficult work. How many of you actually know how much a toilet weighs? it's anywhere between 50-120 lbs depending on a variety of factors. All that, in addition to actually diagnosing whatever the problem is and knowing how to fix it. Do that for the next 20 years of your life and you're not going to have any knees left, you're going to have a bad back, probably most of your other joints are shot or on the fritz in some way, and this is if you were healthy to begin with and didn't have many health problems during your career. Depending on the collective bargaining agreement, sometimes the unions will cover your healthcare at close to 100% after that, but when it was easier to prevent a lot of it by having time off and the ability to afford care? None of that is covered.

Not only that, but most plumbers don't really get paid time off from work, either, depending on what the agreements are. I know it doesn't seem like plumbers ever work timely, but everyone thinks they have an emergency when the plumbing breaks, and you've got to triage the for-real emergencies alongside the "Timmy backed up the toilet again because he keeps flushing his toys and now there's water and poop and who knows what else everywhere." That's not including the emergency answering services where they're relaying that stuff 24/7/365.

How is that different from most of us today, you might wonder? Because they're literally knee-deep in your shit from morning 'til night. All of the weird stuff you do to screw up your toilets, your sinks, your showers, your fixtures, your pipes, they have to deal with all of it. All of the clogs, the gross hair masses, the half-eaten food from when the disposal stops working, the people who don't know not to flush things they shouldn't, the people who do know and don't care, the floods when the sump pump stops working or there's so much rain it just completely overwhelms it, the people who are sure they can "fix" it, the people who listened to youtube or tiktok and picked the wrong accounts for advice, and most of all, metric tonnes of your actual shit and vomit and whatever other bodily excretions you've got. That is all hazardous enough on its own, and if you think it's gross, I don't think plumbers feel any differently, but it is a part of their job and there's no getting around it. They are paid to deal with all of the stuff no one else wants to even think about. And after they've been exposed to your biohazards for 10 hours a day, they themselves have to pay for any care they need to make sure they don't die from it. You know how many people have dangerous mold in their bathrooms and don't know it? I bet a plumber can tell you.

Those are the conditions with unions trying to fight for them.

[As one more note, not everyone wants to leave home, and that's fine! Why does anyone assume there are no tradespeople in cities when that couldn't be further from the truth? Don't be arses about geography.]

tl;dr: plumbers don't make the money you think they do, they spend half their career earning next to nothing and then when they finally start catching up their bodies are so shot they can't enjoy it; in the middle they have to deal with everybody's grossness and basic repair illiteracy, and they pay for most of it themselves.

source: I was an external auditor for a lot of trade unions.

some of the worst classism is white collar middle class americans against blue collar & minimum wage workers. “why does that plumber make more than me” because he’s been perfecting his craft for 30 years and you send emails. “they’re in the trades bc they’re too dumb to do anything else” ok take that engine apart and put it back together real fast babe. “they’re boring bc they never left their home town” have you considered they financially couldn’t? I am not saying it is anyone’s job to educate, nor you need to respect people who do not respect you, but while you maybe never sympathize we need to learn to empathize. consider why (who) allowed for massive parts of country to be uneducated and how many impoverished areas of this country haven’t had a voice for a very long time. we are all victims of the rich. remember it is up vs down

[lorasdolly]

sevika, ambessa or vi can you do virgin reader who is like squirmy maybe some tears

𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚔𝚊 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚟𝚒𝚛𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢

You had asked Sevika to take your virginity because you trusted her most. She was your girlfriend and although it's been months and you still haven't had sex, she's been patient about. Said she doesn't mind taking care of herself.

Yet, today you were so needy, ovulating and demanding. You could feel how your panties stuck to your cunt, showcasing the need for your girlfriend. Every time she did anything, it turned you on even more.

When she was making breakfast in a wife-pleaser, holding your hand on the way to the gym, groaning and drying her wet hair with only a towel wrapped around her waist. You had seen her naked plenty of times, feeling desperate at the sight of her nude but never this much.

You knew it wasn't smart to make big decisions on a short notice, but your pussy wouldn't forgive you if you didn't let her fuck you already!

She was insisting on making sure you were certain about doing this, even while undressing you. She'd furrow her brows and look up at you, "You sure baby?" All you would do is nod your head and tug at her hair, not fond of the anticipation that came about you.

But once she finally got her hands on you, she began to ravage you.

Sevika held your body down tenderly, sighing as the tears welled in your eyes from being overwhelmed and anxious. She shushes you gently, wiping the tears with her thumb as she presses her digits from her other hand inside you.

You whine more, "I, I can't take it, 'Vika!" Your complaining makes her huff softly, kissing your tear-ridden cheek. She curls her fingers upwards, tips pressing against your gspot and using this as a chance to stretch you out more. Your hymen tore when she inserted two of her fingers, only ever using your clit to stimulate yourself.

"You can take it, you told me you could take it if I went slowly, baby." She coos, quickening the pace of curling her two digits. Your back arched off the mattress, moaning and slightly trying to get away from you. She tuts at that, bring her hand to circle your throat gently and keep you close. She hardly applied pressure on your throat, only treating you with upmost care.

"Don't run from it, 'kay?" You nod at her advice, nails digging into her shoulder as she pumped her fingers in and out of you. "Hng— 'Vika," She chuckled and kissed down your neck, biting softly. She was amused by the squelching noise, the way your slick gathered up and formed a white ring on her digits.

"Agh– 'Vika, weird knot in my tummy–!" You exclaimed, crying and squirming under her. It felt so good yet so foreign, you weren't sure how to react to this kind of stimulation. She supported and stabilized your body, fucking her fingers sloppily into your sopping cunt.

She observed how you clenched around them, "Greedy girl, y'know I need these back, hm?" She taunted, receiving a cute whine she yearned for so deeply. She responded with a mocking pout and just kept her movements going consistently. "You're about to cum baby, that's the weird feeling in your tummy,"

Her hand on your throat came to caress your tummy, not pumping her finger in and out but instead ramming them repeatedly into your g-spot. You whined, borderline filthy as you came around her fingers. "No more— 'Vika!"

She didn't stop there, slowing her fingers but still fucking you to help you ride the high. When she pulled out her fingers with a nasty squelching noise, you covered your face in embarrassment.

She chuckled and took your hands off your face, "Don't be ashamed, was so pretty doing that baby." She reassured, holding you against her body as the tears came to a slow halt and resulted in only sniffles,

"Thank you, 'Vika" You murmured sweetly into her neck, a soft sigh leaving her parted lips as she coddled you. "Glad it was you." You whispered.

[babsworlds]

WEIRD, OLDER & ATTRACTIVE.

pairing. Sergei Kravinoff x fem! reader

synopsis. You finally meet your best friend’s brother.

warnings. platonic! Dmitri Kravinoff x fem! reader, mention of age gap, nothing more ig?

a/n: as a starting writer thank you for all the support! I still don’t really know how tumblr works so please have a patience with me! If you have some requests, message me or comment! ily all 🤍

YOU AND YOUR BEST FRIEND DMITRI were the definition of rich, spoiled children of Russian gangsters.

You met Dmitri at the prestigious private school you both attended. Being in the same year, you quickly became inseparable. Rumors of you two dating spread around the school, but you both knew it was just your shared humor and love for the same things, especially the money of your wealthy fathers, that brought you together.

You didn’t care about their jobs as long as you got what you wanted. Lavish parties, extravagant shopping sprees, and exclusive getaways were just part of your everyday life.

You and Dmitri often teased each other with flirtatious jokes, but it was always clear that it was all for fun and not serious. Neither for you took it to heart.

It was Dmitri's birthday today, and you celebrated it in your favorite club, a place reserved only for exclusive and loyal members.

After Dmitri blew out the candles on his white sparkled cake and opened his gifts, the real celebration began. Among the presents, he received a Cartier bracelet to match yours, and hand made photos album of you two, capturing your most cherished memories together.

You and Dmitri danced to the rhythm of the music, dangerously close, but it didn't bother you. You were used to that.

You truly enjoyed yourself, lost in the music and the laughter. But suddenly, a strange feeling washed over you, as if someone was watching. You glanced around the club, trying to spot the source of this unsettling sensation.

Dmitri pulled you closer, his face full of concern. "What's wrong, Y/n?" he asked, noticing your discomfort.

"Nothing," you shrugged, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling. You continued dancing, but couldn't help but periodically scan the crowd, searching for the eyes you felt upon you.

Suddenly, you spot him—a tall, incredibly handsome man with curly hair, standing by the door. His intense gaze was focused solely on you, making you feel a strange mix of curiosity and unease.

“Dima, who’s that weirdly sexy man by the door?” you asked as he spun you around, directing your look towards the door.

“That’s Sergei. My brother,” he said calmly, his expression unreadable. Your eyes widened in surprise. You knew Dmitri had a brother, but you’d only seen photos of them when they were younger, and you heard that Sergei lived isolated from the family.

“No way that’s Sergei?” you exclaimed, still in disbelief. The Sergei you remembered from the photos was a lanky teenager with a mischievous grin, nothing like the imposing figure standing before you now.

Dmitri nodded with a small smile. “Yeah, that’s him. He’s back in town.”

Your curiosity was piqued, and you couldn't help but steal another glance at Sergei. He looked even more striking in person, his curly hair framing a chiseled jawline and piercing eyes that seemed to see right through you.

“Why didn’t you tell me about him earlier? He’s hella sexy,” you exclaimed, alternating glances between Dmitri next to you and Sergei across the room.

“He’s like... much older than you,” Dmitri said, raising an eyebrow. You always preferred older men for many reasons.

“Not so much,” you rolled your eyes. “And you know I’m kinda into these things.” You gave Dmitri a pointed look as he rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately,” Dmitri muttered, recalling the time you had a serious crush on your history teacher.

Your eyes locked with Sergei's across the room. There was something undeniably charming about him, but also a hint of danger that both intrigued and unsettled you. Maybe that was what pulled you closer.

“Can you maybe introduce me to him?” you smirked, playfully swirling a strand of your hair around your finger and biting your lip as a joke.

“Ugh,” Dmitri groaned with a smile, taking you by the wrist and dragging you through the crowd towards Sergei. As you got closer, the intensity of Sergei's gaze never wavered, making your heart beat just a little faster.

“Bro,” Dmitri blurted out, “Y/n here finds you very attractive,” putting an exaggerated emphasis on the word very. You mentally facepalmed—idiot, idiot, idiot, you thought. Dmitri wasn't exactly known for his tactfulness.

Embarrassed, you hid your face in your palms, taking a deep breath before looking up at Sergei, who was smiling, clearly amused by the situation.

“Well, thank you,” Sergei said with a warm smile. “Nice to meet you, Y/n. Dima has told me a lot about you.”

You found it really sweet that Dmitri mentioned you to him. It felt nice knowing that your friendship with Dmitri was something he valued enough to share with his brother.

“So, what brings you back?” you asked, genuinely curious about Sergei’s return.

“I’ve been traveling and working abroad for a while, but I thought it was time to reconnect with family,” Sergei replied, his eyes briefly flickering to Dmitri before returning to you. “And to see what my little brother has been up to.”

As you continued to converse with Sergei, you found yourself eagerly anticipating the possibility of another meeting.

At first sight, Sergei was everything you wanted and liked. He had that intriguing mix of being a bit weird, older, and attractive. The way he spoke with his Russian accent, combined with his looks and maturity, undeniably turned you on.

You couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement every time he smiled or laughed. His deep voice, accentuated by that charming accent, sent shivers down your spine. And the way he carried himself, with confidence and grace, made him even more irresistible.

It was almost surreal—you were losing yourself over your best friend's older brother, someone you were meeting for the first time. You found it hard to believe how quickly you were drawn to him, but there was no denying the strong attraction you felt.

As you stood there, talking to Sergei, you couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to spend more time with him.

“I think I’m gonna get some drinks,” Dmitri said, giving you a playful and knowing smirk before leaving. You rolled your eyes but deep down you were really thankful for the brief moment of privacy.

As soon as his brother left, Sergei wasted no time. “I really find you interesting,” he said, his eyes traveling over your body with a barely controlled intensity. It was clear that he meant more than just “interesting,” but the subtext added to the thrill of the moment.

It was your first meeting, yet the connection felt immediate and really strong.

You smiled, trying to keep things light. “Thanks, you aren’t really boring either.”

Sergei’s expression grew serious, his eyes locking onto yours. “Don’t mind me asking this,” he began, hesitating for just a moment. “Maybe we should meet again,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of hopefulness.

A smile spread across your face. He was asking you on a date, and you definitely didn’t mind that. “I’d like that,” you replied, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest.

You expected everything from this night—a fun celebration, dancing, and spending time with friends—but definitely not meeting Dmitri’s brother and being asked out the same night.

[cuntyji]

taking a break from my own shitty writing to read some GOOD GOOD literature...the goodest of them alll....the baddest, the realest....the okay let's just get started.

gojo is the type of guy to buy a "slay and yaas and twink" shirt with you, i don't make the rules.

geto suguru.....geto suguru.....!!! i have been infected by a virus (getoism) because of daphavocadokuna and let me tell you geto's part of the fic is the one that gagged me the most. he is such a romantic...i need 10 of him and another 500 for all my gays and girls. also geto is THEEEE gossip queen i love it when people write him as such, and having it confirmed by leader of geto-ville herself...gege write that down

guys i'm genuinely rolling down the wall [edit: isn't it sliding??? girl bye they see me rolling LNJNHDHUHDUUADH] when i read the sukuna one because i was like "oh flower ! 😄 what is this link? 🙀 OH DEAR GOD THAT'S- *gunshots*" don't even play with me rn daph i think i shed a tear I. LOVE. YOU!!! he is so like....himbo coded. but like a himbo who drank too much monster. do you get the vibes...man i need to write more of soft idiot in love sukuna!! *stares at my current wip manifesting it blossoms into a soft fic*

toji.....toji fushiguro....guys did u all know i went for @nkoprra's wedding with toji it was saur romantic.....anyways 💗 i feel like he is more of a dry texter than sukuna and the CALLLINNGG he is deffo a call > text guy, i think he'd send more voice messages too. he deffo gets you the best gifts on occassions, he's saur money [peak english here]🕺🕺

DAPHHNNNENENENENENEE NANAMI'S HAD ME CRYING I CAN'T CHOOSE BETWEEN HIM AND SUKUNA FUCK MEEEE. i need a man who corporate responds to all my shared videos than say nothing at all. "thank you for sharing" IM CRYINGGG U HAVE NO IDEA I WAS GIGGLING SO HARD. as someone who likes having someone sit by them as they fall asleep this was such a cute detail to add and im in tears im honking weeping wailing even

choso they will never make me hate you and your chick flick liking ass....love ur characterization of him he is deffo more than just an awkward weird boy....he is THE boy

"objection. we had sushi two days ago" WHY IS HE LIKEEE THIS AHHAHAHA. a man hiding his smile behind his hand is such a hot thing to do i don't know why + bonus points if they lean further into their hand to cover their entire face oh MAMA 🐕🐕🐕

naoya is the typa lad who'd quadruple text you in a row saying "im going. going to bed. going to sleep. i'm closing my eyes. this is your last chance fr. this is naoya's father did you ever care for him" LMAISJDFIEHUWHU he's such a drama kweenie.....i never even thought of reading naoya fics icl once indie wrote an ex!bf naoya fic and that's it, but you dear pookiekuna [to me atleast] have become synonymous with naoya [in a good way] because you write him just so dang funny and dorky i fear i would fold like a lawn chair [is that the saying?] for him.... bonus points if we wildly smooch in public. I AM WAITING FOR BOLTER SEASON 2 PLELASEEE DAPH VALENTINE'S DAY SPECIAL EP WHEN MY GLORIOUS QUUE- *GUNSHOTS*

kashimo is giving pimento and rosa's relationship from b99 idk why he just seems like such a stupid lad. also daph wtaf stop playing u're making me realize how fine half of the jjk cast is oh im gonna be SIIICKKKKK

"it is natural for others to admire beauty such as yours. however, they must know it's not theirs to claim" sir if someone said that to me i would have a mental breakdown. he's the "you're killing my tough guy personality" guy. HE SEEMS SO BITEABLE DAPH I CANT VOCALIZE MY THOUGHTS IM SHAKING WRITING THIS IM GENUIENLY GOING OOGA BOOGA CAVEMAN STYLW WHAT THE FAWKKKKKKKKKKKKK DONT CHAT TO ME

pick your love story °🍵⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ jujutsu kaisen edition (sfw)

gojo satoru ☆ childhood friends to lovers

loves to tease you, and he'll always poke your cheek, ruffle your hair, or steal your food just to get a reaction. if you're shy or quiet, he lives to make you flustered. buys the most ridiculous gifts, including matching sunglasses and designer items that cost more than your rent. acts like your personal heater, always draping himself over you, wrapping his long arms around your shoulders, or sneaking his hands under your sweater to press them against your skin. if someone flirts with you? well, he's throwing him arm around you so dramatically, calling you his 'beloved' in the most obnoxious way possible. if the person doesn't back off, his carefree tone disappears and he gives them a chilling smile. loves late night drives and cafe dates, he's so the type to blast music in the car and sing off-key on purpose, always laughs when you tell him to zip it. his love language is definitely physical touch and words of affirmation, and he needs to be touching you at all times, and he constantly reminds you how much he loves you in different playful and heartfelt ways <3 he's even softer when he's sleepy, nuzzling into your neck and shit, voice always dropping to a quiet murmur as he spills whatever's on his mind.

geto suguru ☆ best friends to lovers

pretty chill, protective and a faux deep thinker type of guy. gentle and attentive, always knowing what you need before you even ask. if had a rough day, he's gonna run you a bath and try to get your favourite drink. tries to sit still and listen patiently while you rant. lowkey a bit overzealous when it comes to jealousy, but never petty. he doesn't get outwardly possessive. but if someone flirts with you, he'll wrap an arm around your waist and give the person a pretty sharp look, enough that they'll back off and shit. always takes pictures of you, and he has an entire album of random shots of you reading, laughing or even just existing bc he really does think you look beautiful in every moment. loves bookstore and vinyl shop dates, and he enjoys those sweet peaceful moments with you (flipping through books, aka arguing about different genres). he's super big on quality time + acts of service, and if he sees you struggling with anything, he'll try to take care of it before you even have to ask. loves running his fingers through your hair, and he claims it calms him, and sometimes he just gets so lost in thought while doing it, that you have to snap him out of it. he's the type to whisper sweet things in your ear absentmindedly, like 'you have no idea how much i love you' when he thinks you're not paying attention. goes all red and dismissive when he realises you actually did hear that :D and he says he's not in gossip and drama but no one talks shit like he does, lets be real

ryomen sukuna ☆ prob sum weird enemies to lover shit

claims he doesn't date, but somehow ends up trying to figure out your favourite flower. calls you stupid shit like 'brat' or 'pet' more than your actual name, but if someone disrespects you, he tears them apart without hesitation. gets jealous easily, but he won't admit it, and if someone looks at you wrong, he'll grab your chin and kiss you (not that you mind <3) his love language is physical touch and dominance, expect him to always keep a hand on your waist, neck or chin because as much as he pretends otherwise, he loves feeling your skin against his. gaslights you over silly things for fun ('i literally told you that' 'no you didn't' 'oh, so you're forgetful now). also whispers absolute nonsense in your ear just from time to time, 'did you know that octopuses have three hearts? bet you didn't, but now you do. you're welcome'). will open a jar way too aggressively to try and show off his strength but breaks it, and now you're left with no pickles and a sulking sukuna with pickle juice on his hand. carries you like a sack of potatoes on his shoulders if you piss him off. pretends he doesn't gaf, but always shares his food with you and tries to order what you like.

toji fushiguro ☆ reluctant friends to lovers

grumpy but soft for you typa boyfriend who doesn't believe in using full words in texts. only texts in 'ya' or 'nah' and he accidentally replied 'k' to you saying 'i love you' and he called you immediately afterwards because he knows he messed up. loves pda but in the most lazy way possible, and will always drape himself over you like a weighted blanket and refuse to move. always steals bites of your food (half the meal) but will act offended if you do the same. once won you a stuffed animal at a carnival and acted like it was no big deal, but he actually used up all his carnival tickets trying to win you the biggest prize. spoils you in a reckless way, and he'll hand you a wad of cash and refuses to tell you how he got the money. he just tells you to go buy something nice. love language is acts of service and physical touch because he claims he's not amazing with words, but his hands always find their way back home to you. loves lazy mornings, and grumbles when you try to get out of bed, pulling you back in with an arm around your waist.

nanami kento ☆ love at first sight

exhausted but devoted you get me, and he claims that you energise him and light up his life. lectures you when you only sleep for three hours a night. replies to the tiktoks you send with corporate replies 'that was humorous. thank you for sharing. i love you.' he thinks you're absolutely the most beautiful person on the planet, and always lets you know. pretty gentle, mature and devoted. shows his love in sweet, meaningful ways. always puts your comfort first, and he tries to take things off your plate without asking. loves cooking for you, and believes cooking is its own love language. hates unnecessary, brash pda but loves quiet intimacy. holds your hand, brushes your hair against your ear. lingering kisses on your temple. reads to you at night, and he'll sit beside you if you have trouble drifting off. his love language is absolutely acts of service and quality time, and he doesn't just say he loves you, he'll prove it in every little action of his. loves taking you out to scenic parks and hikes, and just stares after you with so much love as he tries to adjust the focus of his camera lenses to try and capture you as well as he can.

choso kamo ☆ strangers to lovers

kinda awkward but genuinely, really quiet sweet. overthinks everything, and at the start of your relationship, he even started overthinking how you said 'goodnight!' and wondered if you were mad at him, because there was no heart or emoji. would die before making the first move idk, like you're going to have kiss him first or else, otherwise i fear he's going to have a stroke. holds grudges as long as he can, and will bring up little shit (like you stealing his lunch) six months later 'remember that time you betrayed me?'. but he can only really give you the silent treatment for two whole minutes when you tease him, and then immediately apologises because he feels bad. a lot of friends tease the two of you because they think choso is too quiet or a pushover but the truth is that he's actually pretty snarky, clever and observant. very determined and always sticks to his morals, even at times when you disagree with him, he's able to put his foot down. love language is quality time and gift giving, because he's the type to remember everything you like and surprise him with it. loves watching movies with you, and pretends not to care for 90s chick flicks, but he's digging them deep down. loves holding your hand, and even in public, he'll reach for you quietly.

higuruma hiromi☆ coworkers to lovers

overworked but loves you so bad. he sometimes reminds you of a tired, single dad but he's truly joyous to date. if you call him baby in public, he immediately malfunctions and blushes. you once kissed him in a courtroom (not even when court was ongoing!) on the tip of his gorgeous nose, and he almost choked. will 100% object to random things just to irritate you, with topics like takeout for dinner, 'objection. we had sushi two days ago.' takes everything pretty seriously, until you do something cute. then he just sits there, hiding his smile behind his hand like an adorable anime protagonist. tries to be strict or protective, but you just make him super soft. secretly likes pda but pretends that he doesn't. grips your hand so tight like he fears you might disappear. loves when you rest in his lap or against his chest as he reads over cases and paperwork. you told him that he'd look hot with glasses, and you caught him browsing through lens frames.

naoya zenin ☆ arranged marriage (kinda ooc naoya btw, bear with me)

sort of a menace who should have been left on read a long time ago, but this wasn't your first choice. somehow, he folds for you almost immediately but you think he'd rather dig his own grave and neatly fold his hands over his chest as he buries himself at his own funeral before he admits that he likes you. calls you annoying but will drop everything if you text him that you need help. always saying dumb shit to you, or trying to make fun of you, but if someone else does? they're gone, like he's going to stalk them, find where they work, and get them fired from their job. texts you the stupidest things like 'if i was ugly, would you still love me?' 'i just saw an ugly baby. damn' 'what would do if i got arrested? be honest.' saw someone flirting with you once at like a fancy event, and rolled his eyes, pretending that he didn't give a flying fuck. ended up at the bathroom mirror, gripping the sink and trying not to throw up. if you ignore his texts, he's gonna send vaguely ominous messages, like 'answer me' followed by 'this is how it ends?' 'i'm leaving btw, i'm going to pack up and leave you forever and go live on my own in the wild.' you check his location and he's still at home. naoya thinks he's the prize in the relationship, he's not. definitely a pda menace, and he loves just kissing you in public.

hajime kashimo ☆ enemies to lovers but in that 'we met when we were fighting' way

your relationship is just him being reckless with no survival instinct, and you trying to keep your boyfriend alive. aka trying to stop him from licking the power outlet. will randomly challenge you to fights for no reason, never mind the fact that he'll feel bad and back out at the last minute. has no concept of personal space, and will stand nose to nose with you just to make you uncomfortable. if you back away, he's gonna follow you and ask where you're going. if someone flirts with you, he's not even going to do too much, just laugh in their face and ask the offender if they really thought they had a chance. kashimo has no concept of an inside voice at all, so god forbid you try to take him somewhere quiet. energy level always at 200% and it's a mission to even take him someplace like a grocery store. if you said 'i love you' first, it might have been the only time that someone else has bested him in something. hajime physically can't process emotions and goes green and pale (he loves you so much btw) and he looks vaguely ill at your confession. stares for five minutes before throwing himself at you. definitely a words of affirmation type of guy, instead of actions, because sometimes, he's all bark and no bite.

noritoshi kamo ☆ sweet, rom-com crush

he's actually a bit traditional, but very sweet. unfortunately, he's also so formal that it hurts sometimes. but it's fun when he asks you things like 'would you like to accompany me for an evening meal?' or 'shall we go for a stroll?' if you hold his hand, for the first few months, he sweats profusely but acts as though he's totally cool (narrator: he was not cool). lowkey believes that he doesn't deserve you and he absolutely treats you, the love of his life, like royalty. super observant and determined to make you as comfortable as possible, so you're never really left wanting for anything. if someone flirts with you, he doesn't really get jealous, but rather gets philosophical. 'it is natural for others to admire beauty such as yours. however, they must know it's not theirs to claim.' a key forefront runner of the sassy men apocalypse, even though you wouldn't be able to tell at the start. super quick-witted, but he's the type to keep his thoughts to himself, but luckily, he gets more comfortable sharing his jokes with you as times go on. blushes super easily, and he hates it because he thinks it ruins his aloof/mysterious guy persona.

[cambankromyy]

THE ISLAND LOOKOUT (pt.7): the cut - (smau & irl au) childhood bsf!rafe cameron x thornton!reader

series masterlist; general masterlist; taglist

part 6- part 7 - part 8

unlike common belief, the four never hated the pogues. well not all of them at least, only if they had a reason to. people just assumed they hated pogues because people assumed they were the asshole type of kook, and sure they weren’t the type to always have their nice face on, but they weren’t mean; not with intention. they knew not to make enemies unless they had a reason to.

so even if people called it “weird” when sarah started talking to john b, none of them really minded.

the next day;

rafe pulls up outside your house, headlights cutting through the dim evening glow. you climb into the backseat, kicking your feet up onto the console as sarah turns around in the passenger seat, already smirking.

“you took forever.”

“cry about it,” you shoot back.

rafe doesn’t react like usual. just exhales through his nose, tapping his fingers against the wheel before reversing out of the driveway. the ride to the cut is mostly sarah filling the silence, rambling about john b’s latest scheme. you half-listen, half-watch rafe through the mirror. he’s not brooding exactly, just off.

by the time you pull up, the pogues are already there. john b’s messing with something on the hms pogue, kiara, cleo and pope sit on the dock talking, and jj—jj is the first to notice you. he tips his beer slightly, a slow grin creeping onto his face.

“well, look what the tide dragged in,” he drawls, eyes flicking between the three of you before landing on you.

you nod your head as an acknowledgement,

“yn” you say simply, stepping onto the dock.

jj cocks his eyebrow in confusion. "yn? thought it was roni."

you chuckle, "looks like someone did their research," looking at him.

jj smirks, "couldn't help my self," shrugging. "you drink?” he asks, handing you a open bottle.

you take the beer he hands you without breaking eye contact. “obviously.”

jj lets out a low whistle, clearly entertained. “alright then. let’s see if you can keep up.”

at first, you aren’t sure how the night will go, but somehow, you keep finding yourself next to jj. it’s not intentional—at least, not at first—but it just works. he’s sarcastic, reckless, always running his mouth, and somehow, it’s like talking to a male version of yourself.

at one point, jj leans in, grinning. “you’re actually kinda perfect.”

you raise an eyebrow. “yeah?”

“yeah,” he nods. “like, if i wasn’t me, i’d be you. which is honestly kinda terrifying.”

you smirk, taking a sip of your drink. “so what i’m hearing is—you’re obsessed with me.”

jj laughs, shaking his head. “might be.” then, like it’s the most casual thing in the world, he hands you his phone. “here. before i forget.”

you take it, glancing at the screen. he already has a new contact pulled up.

“oh, so you just assume i want your number?”

jj smirks. “you don’t?”

you roll your eyes but type it in anyway, handing the phone back. he glances at the screen, then back at you. “snap too?”

“god, you’re relentless,” you mutter, grabbing the phone again.

meanwhile, rafe lingers on the outskirts of the group. he’s there, but not really. drinking, laughing when necessary, but never fully sinking in. you notice. you clock the way he stands apart, how he never fully relaxes. but you don’t press it.

not yet.

later, after everything has settled, you get a noitification from being added to a group chat full of unknown numbers except jj and sarah. assuming its the members of today, you send a text.

you toss your phone onto the bed, something unsettled lingering in your chest. your mind kept jumping back to rafe's words, 'not used to hanging out with other people.'

the fuck was that supposed to mean?

tags under the cut!!

tags: @italk2god @angelicameron @marleymarleymarleymarley, @queenvane64, @raeven-marie43 @idiotussupremus @sereneera @yesshewrites1 @inlovewithchriss @ethanthequeefqueen @amterasuu @popou61 @drewsstars @yannew @anothertimegirl @flvredcas @yootvi @mrsdrewstarkeyy @niaunofficial @cooper8224 @rafegetinmybed @pogueprincesa @6r4cie @adalia-lovelace @bee-43 @drewrry @masongetinmybed @defnotayonna @lcversvoid @my-name-is-baby @lolasangelz @polli05927 @laniirackssss @rafecamerobswifeyy

[nylauninterrupted]

CL16 x Reader [the Golden Boy] Valentines Special I

before reading: Welcome to the Valentines Specials! This one is a bit long, since I wanted to do a lot of teasing and slight tension. The intention behind this one is to make it feel sort of like a trashy romcom but in a good way, if you know what I mean? I hope I managed to do that, let me know your thoughts. As always, requests are open and ready for y'all. Happy reading!

summary: You were an anonymous journalist, trying to bring down one of Monaco's biggest illegal organisations. But once its head figured out that you were the one behind the mocking articles, he felt something other than hate.

content warnings: morality is out of question here, a lot of money talk, weird comparisons I guess?, eating out, sex, dom!Charles, no protection implied (wrap it before you tap it obvi), nonproofread

word count: 3943

"The golden boy of the House of Leclerc amazes the public once more with his ignorance and disregard towards the middle class," you observed in satisfaction as the paper's redactor read the article's title out loud.

You took pride in your work, as it was completely unrelated to making money. If anything, you put money into it, reassuring the small local paper's office that you would be more than happy to provide for them if things went sideways due to your articles.

Although you were certainly a part of the upper class, you made no move to get even richer, instead choosing to use your resources in the scheme you had planned out in the last year.

The plan was to bring down the House of Leclerc, possibly the most prosperous criminal organisation in Monaco, covered up as a fashion brand. You knew all about them from your old man, an eccentric millionaire who had information on pretty much anyone in Monaco and beyond.

You felt completely safe in this line of work; you wrote provocative articles that left the public fuming, slowly bringing down the golden boy—Charles Leclerc. Your articles were published anonymously and were the reason for the recent growth of the small paper.

The money they made off selling it went to them alone, as you did not need it. It helped with the anonymity, as you couldn't be traced by the money transfers.

And during your father's parties and dinners, you could watch the golden boy's face as his advisor walked up to him and reported that another article about his sketchy business had just come up.It was a thing you enjoyed immensely, seeing his polite, slightly amused expression shift into a subtle frown. 

It's a good thing you avoided ever speaking with him directly and kept your distance; he might have noticed your little smirk otherwise.

"At this point I am surprised he did not pull some strings to get our office to shut down," the editor sighed, setting the manuscript on the table. "It's a good thing you have the money to fight it."

Yes, you fought money with money in a sense. Writing these articles certainly would have been more noble if you were a part of the middle class, but you knew very well how that would go; you would have been silenced before people even started reading your work properly.

"Even if he were to do it, it would not escape the public's attention." You smiled, twirling a strand of your hair between your fingertips. "And if he were to stop me from writing the articles, he wouldn't just force the office to shut down. He'd focus on finding me alone."

"Well, I admire your courage." The editor sighed. "Though sometimes it is getting dangerously close to bordering on stupidity."

You rolled your eyes and smiled again before getting up and dusting your jeans off.

"The transfer came through in the morning, from a dummy account, like always. I will see you next week, yeah?"

And with that you left for your apartment to get ready for another one of your old man's dinners. It did not take too long; there have been heat waves in Monaco recently, making your clothing options quite limited. You settled for a sparkly golden dress, paired with gorgeous makeup. 

You winked at yourself in the mirror before checking the time and heading out.It did not take you too long to get to the gathering, where most were already present. You were immediately pulled into hugs and showered with kisses on the cheek from the females present, who were very happy to see you.They all loved you; you were the apple in their eye. If only they knew who was behind the biting articles about them...

Your eyes wandered around the room, searching for your main target—Charles. You were surprised not to see him; the man was almost never late.With a shrug of your shoulders, you entered your father's villa, walking up the staircase and reaching your old bedroom to adjust your makeup a bit.

It was as beautiful and comfortable as you remembered, with little lights hanging down from the ceiling and the art you painted on your walls when you were a teenager. While searching for your highlighter in your bag, you sat down on the chair in front of your old vanity table, not noticing the quiet sound of a person entering the room.

You gazed in the mirror, applying some of the highlighter as an eyetopper, when a voice sounded from somewhere behind you.

"Hello, little writer." Charles spoke in a calm tone, taking a step closer to the light. "I liked your newest article."

You stopped in your tracks for a second, your hand freezing mid-air. You quickly gathered yourself and calmly continued applying your makeup.

"I am no writer," you responded, dabbing the glowy product into your face. "Unfortunately, I never possessed the ability to write proper pieces. You can ask my father, Mr..." 

You paused, pretending to be clueless and not know his name, as you looked at him questioningly.

"Charles," he answered softly, looking at you with amusement, "If your father thinks you have no ability to write, then he is quite ignorant, miss (l/n)."

"Well then, I will entertain your theory, Charles." You spoke, turning around and getting up from the chair to face him. Charles checked you out conspicuously, not even trying to hide the way his eyes traced your every curve.

"How did you come up with the idea that I write articles?" you asked, controlling your body language to perfection. In order to appear less confident and intelligent than in reality, you put your hands behind your back instead of folding your arms on your chest.

He seemed to see right through your trick, seeing you for the way you were: smart and cunning.

"Well, there is someone who writes rather... bold articles in some small local newspaper, bringing a lot of attention to themselves," he spoke huskily, taking a step closer to you, "and I decided to investigate, tracing money transfers from a dummy account, observing the newspaper's office..."

Charles leaned towards you, bending down to whisper into your ear, as his warm breath brushed over your neck faintly.

"You should have picked a busier time to visit the office, little miss... Maybe it would have been easier to miss your pretty face on the camera footage."

You shivered slightly and pulled away to the side, giving him a cold look with your eyes narrowed.

"The next time you try to come into a room I'm in alone, without permission, I will be waiting. With a gun." You spoke coldly.

"Don't tempt me." Charles grinned, his eyes glued to yours. "There is one thing I am curious about."

"Why would a rich girl like you care about what I do, enough to risk her reputation and money, writing articles that mock me? You won't benefit financially... You don't have a business that could expand because of it... Oh, wait." He paused, leaning close to your ear again."Is it to get my attention?" He whispered, smirking at you.

"Did you think that way you would be different from all the other women who throw themselves at me?"

"It might be a shock to you, Leclerc, but not every woman out there dreams of seducing you." You rolled your eyes, folding your arms. While he was still a complete jerk, you appreciated that he did not try to put his hands on you during your first encounter, like entitled men who attended your father's gatherings would often do.

Before Charles had the chance to respond, you turned away and left the room. You did not really care what he would do once you left him on his own in your childhood bedroom. He would not dare to do anything in your father's house.

You quickly got back to the gathering and were immediately welcomed back by the group of women from before. You tried to forget about your encounter with the golden boy and the way his hot breath made your whole body shiver, even though he did not lay a single finger on you.

A girl that has been eyeing you all night had offered you a dance, which you gratefully accepted. You twirled around and had fun, the shiny pieces of your dress making you look ethereal in the warm light, as you continued to be watched by Charles, who got back to the party as well.

Just as you finished dancing with the girl and thanked her, a bit out of breath, another one came up to you giggling, telling you that Charles was talking to your father, asking whether he could dance with you.

Your eyes narrowed, and you looked in your old man's way to see him chatting with Leclerc while gesturing in a lively way. As Charles noticed you gazing at them, he gave you a small smirk and a wave before excusing himself and walking towards you.

"I am not dancing with you," you spoke bluntly, looking at him with disdain. Your words just made him smile and roll his eyes in response.

"Oh, but we wouldn't want to disappoint your papa, would we?" Charles spoke teasingly, "It would be very rude to deny a dance with me, don't you think?"

You bit your lip, knowing he was right. To make matters worse, a cheery Italian love song started playing. Your old man liked romcoms and love songs a bit too much for your liking; you had to talk to him about his Mamma Mia obsession at some point.

Charles raised his eyebrow and held out his hand towards you, just as the chorus of Sarà perché ti amo started playing. You gave him a subtle glare once more before placing your fingers on his warm hand. He smiled and pulled you closer to the centre of the room, leading the dance and twirling you around.

"You look gorgeous tonight, little miss," he whispered teasingly, as the crowd watched you dance. "Are you this beautiful even when mocking me in your writing, or did you simply dress up tonight?"

"Considering how you were busy watching me through the street cameras, I think you are well aware of how I look while working," you bit back through gritted teeth as you smiled at him charmingly to keep up appearances. He gave you an equally tender smile, faking it almost effortlessly, before spinning you around again.

"Oh, street cameras aren't the only thing I can use to watch you. I have eyes too, ma déesse," he whispered into your ear, just as the track ended, and he had to let you go. As you walked away from him, you glanced at your father and groaned at his beaming smile. You silently prayed that he wouldn't try to plan anything as a follow-up to your dance with one of his business partners.

Your prayers were not answered. The next evening you got a text from your father, happily informing you that Charles was absolutely enthralled by you and has asked for your number. (You would not be surprised if your father just came up to him after you two danced and forced him to write down your number in his phone.)

You were still seething as you made dinner in the quiet of your apartment when the doorbell rang. You did not expect any guests, so you raised your eyebrows in surprise and washed your hands before opening the door to see Charles standing behind them. A thought of simply shutting the door in his face ran through your head, but you doubted he would actually let you have your peace.

"Why are you here?" You asked, folding your arms while you looked at him questioningly. 

"Maybe I wanted to see your pretty face again?" he suggested, a grin appearing on his face. You made a mental note to add "womaniser" to the long list of epithets you used in your articles.

"Bullshit," you said calmly, completely unfazed.

"I want answers, little miss." Charles finally replied, looking at you closely, "I want to know why the little rich girl who attends her daddy's parties every other week decided to mock me and make me her enemy when she would benefit so much more if I were her ally."

"It's fun," you replied. "I like it. Watching all the other rich people in town squirm once word about their little illegal businesses spreads. I liked seeing your expression, the perplexity in your eyes."

He kept observing you for a couple more seconds before he smirked again and started taking slow steps towards you. You instinctively started to retreat to your apartment, but it didn't make him stop. As he entered it, he closed the door behind him, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Are you going to grab a gun now?" Charles teased, referring to the threat you made the evening before. You stopped and overcame your unease. He was on your turf. And you weren't going to take his shit.

"My turn to ask the questions. Why didn't you try to shut me up earlier?"

"It's pretty simple." He responded, tilting his head slightly. "When you first started writing, I wanted nothing more than to find you and rip your head off. But with each little piece of yours, your gender became clear. It baffled me, since I have not crossed any women recently. It interested me, irked me."

Charles took another step towards you, slowly extending his hand, giving you time to retreat. But you did not, surprisingly letting him place his hand on your chin.

"I found out who you were a while ago. But I decided to watch and tried to see what your motive was. At first, I thought it was your father's idea, but I quickly came to the conclusion that he is a harmless old man. No, you came up with it all by yourself."

You remained silent, listening to his words, as his warm fingers traced your jawline and brushed against your neck, stroking your soft skin softly.

"I was completely sure you were a man pretending to be a woman before I discovered your identity." Charles chuckled. 

"I did not understand why else you would watch me so closely, describing my every... evil move."His hand went slightly up once more, and he brushed the tip of his thumb against your peach-tinted lips.

"Otherwise... Why would someone want to bring me down? Without any gain from it..." his voice trailed off. "You are fascinating, little miss."

You let out a small, barely audible sigh at his faint touches, making his eyes glint with interest once more.

"Are you sure you still don't want a bit of my attention?" He murmured, bending down slightly, his head inching closer to your face as he spoke.

Of course you knew what kind of man he was. Filthy rich, attractive, and thought the world belonged to him. But could anyone fault you for finding him just a bit appealing?You tilted your head up to look at him properly. Thoughts were running in circles in your mind as you bit your lip, feeling conflicted. Charles could see your struggle, and he waited patiently for your response, not making any move to touch you more. He wanted your consent, for you to give in willingly.

"Maybe just a bit," you whispered, knowing damn well that there was no way that this would be a one-time thing. He smiled at your response, reaching his hand out again, brushing strands of your hair behind your ear, and leaning in to place a small peck on the side of your neck to test the waters. Seeing that you did not resist his affections, he moved closer, his body meeting yours. Charles took you in with his eyes, massaging your body through your clothes, taking his time with you.

"You really do look incredible regardless of the situation," he muttered, burying his face in your hair and inhaling your scent. "You are so interesting, little miss..."

His hands slipped under your shirt and kept massaging your body slowly, warming it up. You didn't really speak, still unsure how to respond to the situation. The man whose life you tried to ruin was in your apartment, being intimate with you, and you were... Well, you were a willing participant.

Charles roamed your body with his fingers, keeping it pretty civil for now, and you tilted your head up again, brushing your nose against his slightly, making him smile at you.

"I have to say, you were more fierce yesterday. This is not an unpleasant change," he whispered tenderly. "I suppose you can be quite nice if you want to."

You grabbed his wrists and slowly guided his hands to your breasts, placing them around the round tissue.

"Oh, generous even," he added, but he did not tease you further and kept massaging instead.

"Should I get this off?" Charles asked after a while, referring to the large shirt you were wearing. You nodded without hesitating much, making him take the shirt off your body with ease. His hands were immediately back on your skin, this time enveloping your hips with their warmth.You reached for his shirt, taking it off as well. He gently guided you to the couch, carefully pushing you on the soft cushions.

"You're a bit like a wild cat, ma déesse," he whispered with a hint of satisfaction. "It is very difficult to tame you, and even if one succeeds, you still remain wonderfully independent and fierce."

You rolled your eyes a bit at the compliment but did not stop him from undressing you further, giggling a bit as he struggled with taking his trousers off. Charles gave you a warning look, though he couldn't help but smirk as well.

"Watch out, little miss, or I might lose my temper," he whispered.

"Do you ever?" you asked, looking up at him, as he crawled on top of you. "Were those frowns every time you heard about a new article all feigned?"

"Oh, I was not frowning about the articles." Charles chuckled, pressing soft kisses on your neck. "I just think some of the... labels you gave me were a bit harsh. I don't think I'm a 'filthy lecher who feasts on the weak,' to be quite honest."

"Fine, maybe I am a bit... passionate at times." You admitted with a sigh, as he continued leaving gentle pecks on her body, trailing them down towards her chest, "...You're still a jerk."

"Sure I am." He beamed, his shiny eyes glancing up into yours, before he focused on cherishing you again. He was careful, almost as if he worried about damaging you. You took him for someone who liked it rough, yet right now it seemed like he was prioritising your pleasure over his.

You sighed again as his mouth started inching closer to your abdomen before passing in and hovering above her temple.

"Are you ready, little miss?" he asked, and without really waiting for a response, he leaned down, pressing his mouth directly to your clit. He wasn't hesitant; he dove right in, beginning to suck on your labia, eliciting soft moans from your mouth.

Charles took his time, licking and sucking on the outside, before slowly pushing his mouth further, penetrating your cunt with his tongue. The man had skill; he turned into a panting, whimpering mess in a matter of minutes.

Before he brought you to a climax, he pulled away carefully, glancing at you with a grin.

"It's okay, you can come over my face later," he whispered, massaging your hip, as you glanced down at him, your face flushed. 

"Do you want to feel me inside, ma déesse?" 

You nodded, almost squirming from the tension he built up in your body. He kept watching your expression as he positioned his hard shaft at your entrance, teasing it a little bit, before slowly but surely pushing it in.

You slowly got used to the sensation, letting out small moans and whimpers at the sensation. You closed your eyes, savouring the experience, before pulling him into your arms, making his dick go deeper and causing him to groan in pleasure.

He was so careful with you, as if afraid to break you, to damage you. You would never take him for someone gentle; you assumed he liked it rough. But right now, he seemed to be containing himself for you.

"You don't have to be gentle with me. I'm not made out of glass." you whispered, after letting out another moan. "I want to feel you everywhere."

At your words, his restraint seemed to weaken; his gentle strokes grew into desperate thrusts, the pace quickening significantly. You were now moaning at every move, your body responding to his affections perfectly.

You could not help but admire the way he looked, his brown hair illuminated by the warm light seeping from a lamp placed on the coffee table, his green eyes that usually resembled spring leaves, now looking more like a shadowy forest. Small beads formed on his forehead as he kept a quick pace, sliding his cock in and out of you.

Soon, he reached his high, painting your inner walls white, before sliding out of you, his dick now limp. He tried not to collapse on you, but you simply pulled him in, making him lie on top of your body. You both breathed heavily, spent after the intense sex.

Your mind was analysing the situation now. In the past hours, your opinion on Charles changed significantly. He was still a dick and a bad man, but you couldn't deny the want you felt for him. It might have transcended sexual desire alone.

Charles clearly felt something for you as well; he knew better than to hope that sleeping with you would make you stop writing about him. He was tender, affectionate... It was unclear what he wanted for you. But after a couple more moments of thinking, you decided to let it go for now, choosing to enjoy the presence of the man you seemed to hate just yesterday.

Suddenly, you giggled, making him look up at you questioningly.

"Did you really memorise every insult I have written about you?" you asked, looking at him tenderly. He smiled as well, nuzzling his face into your chest. It wasn't in a sexual way; it seemed that he was simply yearning to be close to you, to stay in this moment, in this apartment, for as long as possible.

"Maybe not every single one, but I remember most of them." Charles murmured, with his face buried in your chest. 

You smiled again, deciding that talking about what this evening meant for you two could happen some other time. For now, you wanted to keep him in your arms for as long as possible.

...And maybe a few kisses, you thought, as you gently grabbed his chin and leaned in, kissing him on the lips. He reciprocated immediately, taking the lead and pouring his affection for you into the gesture, leaving you breathless.

"Do you want to stay for dinner?" You asked, making his eyes light up like a little child's.

"I would love to." Charles smiled genuinely. Yes, he was a bad man. But his presence was something you grew fond of. In a matter of a day, you found yourself infatuated with the golden boy that you mocked.

"Maybe I should have suggested breakfast as well," you spoke, pulling him in for another kiss.

[hitlikehammers]

strongly worded letter 💌

or: Eddie Munson’s long, weird road out of (the) hell(-side down) ☠️ and into love💗

rating: t ♥️ tags: post-S4, steve’s one-man search-and-rescue for eddie’s not-dead body, falling in love, fluff in surprising places, eddie’s chaotic internal monologue, alphabet magnets🧲 for the win ♥️

for @steddielovemonth day four: "I had not intended to love him. [...] He made me love him without looking at me." —Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte

To the external, uninitiated observer, Eddie is well aware his take on all of this will 100% appear both unhinged and as least vaguely self-destructive, bordering on suicidal.

But here’s the thing: if Eddie had been truly suicidal, the million times he could have just stood and let the mobs take him—bigots or mutant bats or a lichy-ballsac that made people float—he wouldn’t have even bothered fighting. Maybe he was questionably attached to self-preservation, but actively wanting to pack it in? Even the thought of sparing his poor uncle his bullshit—finally—hadn’t been a sweet enough deal. Nope: Eddie is selfishly attached to the whole living thing.

Which is why he is begging for it to be understood, in no uncertain terms:

He’d rather know for sure that he was dead in the endless, silent grey hellscape he’s been left in, than wandering in this half-formless, half-collapsing nothing-burger version of the town he grudgingly called home, unsure where he stands on the mortality-scale either way.

—

Here’s the deal.

Vents? Foolishly overlooked.

Epic concert? Rocked, no notes.

Bat-chow? Do no recommend.

Henderson sobbing? Recommend even less.

Being tagged as a corpse? Perfectly fine if that’s what you are; dead weight in an apocalypse simply cannot be justified.

The issue is when you’re tagged as a corpse, and you…aren’t one.

So you’re left behind.

Which brings Eddie to:

Meeting what they’ve been calling a demogorgon this whole time but that resembles no such thing, those goddamn lying liars: not fucking cool.

Having…enough demobat saliva or venom or poison or whatever, probably, where the misleading-as-fuck demogorgon sniffs at you like a dog with her puppies instead of eating you with those fucking petal teeth?

Neutral. Probably wouldn’t order it again.

Getting licked all over by said Petal Teeth, all lioness-grooming-its-young style? Disgusting.

Disgusting.

Figuring out demogorgon saliva has some kinda magical mystical healing properties and you’re basically just covered in fairly-smooth scar tissue now that looks months old rather than hours, and plus you got a bath out of it so most of the dried blood’s gone too?

Fine, okay, he’d leave a tip for service.

But now Eddie is as alive as he can think to test being—and he’s been running all the monster-category tests and he doesn’t pass for vampire, zombie, or any various other undead creatures, he’s hungry but mostly for like, Chicken McNuggets, and—

Stuck. He’s stuck here.

And he thinks they must have won, the Party that is, because nothing’s really happening except…things are falling apart, like rotting in slow motion.

Which is a concern. But. Cool, if it means they did in fact make the motherfucker pay.

But that also means nobody has any reason to be strolling back in to fight demons anymore, and come across his not-so-dead ass. Plus also, the place is probably going to keep crumbling—if a master of a realm is axed, the realm doesn’t typically survive. Mordor fell apparent when Barad-dûr came down. And he…

He did agree to go into Mordor.

Well, fuck him.

—

He mostly wanders around and pokes at random shit, collects some books, ignores the fact that the reality he’s looting is on borrowed time.

He doesn’t know if it’s healthier to deal with that part head on or keep pretending it’s not there, but he honestly could not give a fuck.

Because it’s just him. Save the demogorgon who gave him a tongue bath, he’s seen nothing living. Sometimes there’s a stray screech but it’s too distant to even guess where he’d find whatever made it, stumble upon whatever caused it. There’s not even a breeze to move the decaying trees.

There is nothing.

And it’s starting to drive him fucking insane. He might lose it before the reality caves in on him, actually, just for the sheer…void of it all.

He’s on the edge of that—losing it entirely—when he hears it, sees it.

Who the fuck took that magazine, it’s like three years old, only kept it for the tips on…

And then an echo, like a projection in the air, and it’s fleeting and its faint but where that voice what pretty unmistakable already, the coif of chestnut and the peek of a polo collar, and the seizing in Eddie pulse for both together—it’s almost more undeniable.

That’s fucking Harrington.

—

The vision is, seconds. At most.

But it shifts Eddie’s priorities entirely.

He starts the day—he’s guessing it’s the start of the day, it’s always fucking grey here but he’s just going off of when he’s hungry so—but he looks for cereal in one of these decrepit houses and eats it out of the box as he tries to get his bearings.

Tries also to remember all the weird shit the kids used to say before Eddie knew they were making any of it up.

Context clues give him that this is Hawkins. 1983 or thereabouts—makes sense for the magazine.

But what makes more sense, and is more helpful: Steve had bitched the magazine was moved.

And Eddie’s definitely the one who had it in his hand when he heard said bitching.

So there’s still some connection. Hope’s not totally lost.

Mostly, maybe. But not totally.

—

He decides to go back to Harrington’s and just wait until he goes there to sleep so he can tail him, have some sense of how he can try and make contact from his own side, let someone know he’s still here.

It takes forever; Eddie wonders just how different time runs, here, save that when he finally hears something, the vision is clearer in the air, ghostly but more complete.

And Steve looks fucking wrecked.

Like he hasn’t slept in days, like he’s about to fucking cry, like he—

He’s still the most beautiful guy Eddie’s seen in person, if this counts as in-person, but like—that was never not-true.

“Rob, I don’t know! I just, I just feel like—“

“I will handcuff you to your bed.”

Eddie tries to feel excited that whatever’s happening is strong enough that two voices come through, that Robin’s here, she’s safe too—

But he’s more invested in what’s causing the shouting.

”I know how to pick a fucking lock, Jesus,” and Eddie doesn’t not think about the lock he’s worn more than once around Steve at his belt, nope, he does not—

”The gates are closed, Steve. It’s over.”

Well. Fuck.

There goes the hope thing.

”Not all of them. Not totally.”

Or maybe not.

”Steve, I will hunt you down, I will dog your steps, I will follow you every single moment if you think I am leaving big you even consider going back to—”

“I love you, Robs, but you still can’t drive. Think you’ll beat me on your Schwinn?”

“I will slash your tires.”

“Sorry, birdie, got AAA to save me.”

And that’s all Eddie gets, but…

It almost feels like he’s got one single snowball’s chance in hell, here. Still. Just one, true, but.

If he’s learned anything the last few days, it’s that Steve Harrington’s maybe the most reliable snowball he could ask for.

His chest is all tingly about it, even—fucking traitor.

—

Eddie doesn’t even really have to follow where Steve goes next. In that he knows exactly where it is, just not why the fuck Steve wants to be there.

Especially since even the lack of evidence in ‘83’s version of the trailer still makes him look up at the ceiling and feel like he’s gonna puke.

”Oh sure Mister Munson sir, I just want to borrow your dead nephew’s cassettes, that are definitely in the trailer the fed have locked down to be sent to Area 51 or wherever, just in case he’s not entirelydead in another dimension, and he can hear me because I’m definitely not losing my fucking mind, and definitely not because being called ‘Big Boy’ didn’t fuck with my head more than mutant bats ever did…”

Steve’s frankly endearing muttering, and that last bit especially, distract Eddie enough from the fact that Steve is actively rummaging through his room.

Through his room, Jesus, Eddie moves because he even clocks that lunging at Steve here won’t do shit there to stop the questionable literature Steve’s already sifting through.

At least Steve can’t see him blush across planes of existence. Hopefully.

“Oh,” and Steve sounds shocked, but then looks…gutted?

”One more for the ‘you suck’ column,” and Eddie decides right then that he fucking does not approve of that tone, at all; ”not like I had a chance, definitely not his type…”

“But my type’s the paladin who protects everyone and needs a faithful bard to tend his wound and keep his bed!” Eddie blurts out into the nothing on his side of the divide.

“My type’s been you since fucking junior year!”

Because Junior-Eddie was admittedly much more lust-driven. Let that be said.

Now-Eddie’s equally if not more invested in the heart of a man.

And Steve Harrington, even remotely thinking that he isn’t Eddie’s type?

Maybe Eddie really is dead. And this is hell.

—

”Why do I need them?”

Eddie’s got a new box of cereal—Kix, could definitely be better—and has now trailed Steve to what looks like…the edge of town, which, who lives there…

”Nah, kid, nothing bad. Just want to see something. Promise.”

One of the kids. Maybe this is where the Byerses are, now, if they were right and they’d been on their way back? Because Eddie knows where the rest of them live, and this ain’t it.

Theresa are footsteps in one direction, and Steve wanders in the other, where Eddie sees a girl with a buzz cut he doesn’t know, but who stares Steve down in a way that…Eddie can kinda guess.

They’d all alluded to the super powered kiddo more than once.

”Can you look? Like, just to see if he’s—”

Eddie’s neck turns fast when he turns back in to the conversation, less for the words and more for how timid, how cowed Steve sounds and he…

Eddie just wants, more than anything really, to be able to reach out and touch. To comfort. To do…

Something.

”…would not feel him even if he was there. The connection is gone. The Upside Down is dead.”

And Steve deflates, and Eddie…Eddie remembers the lights didn’t they have to be emotionally unstable, kinda, to make the lights flicker, to let someone know they’re there, and Eddie’s definitely there because—

Not fucking all of it, not yet, Eddie wants to scream; or maybe yes all of it but I’m still fucking here.

Also: that man is 100% my type and I want a fucking shot, I want my snowball’s chance in hell, I want to bite him and call him sweetheart like I mean it and I want, I want, I want—

Also that.

Steve leaves with some…fucking magnets.

And the lights didn’t do jack shit.

—

Eddie spends most of that night playing with magnets.

Well, not at first.

First, he tries yelling, sobbing, focusing like a Force-user, really anything he could think of to get Steve’s lights to flicker. No such luck.

So then Eddie makes a side quest, after having dutifully made certain not to leave Steve’s side for…however many days.

He pops to Melvald’s because of anyone’s got kiddie alphabet magnets, it’s gotta be them.

And score. Definitely not the worst thing Eddie’s stolen. Plus this place is on the way out. Not really relevant, here, if he cared.

Which he fervently does not.

And proves by grabbing two fifths of tequila on the way out. Hah.

He finds Steve passed out on top of his comforter, plaid monstrosity that it is, and he tries very hard to brush his hair back—nothing.

And then Eddie…somehow that’s the straw that breaks the pack-mule’s back. Something in him just fucking snaps.

Because he distinctly remembers this whole fiasco being tied to the labs owned by the fucking Department of Energy, right?

And they can’t even keep the electrical connection between dimensions working?

That’s…that’s unacceptable.

He’s gonna…he’s gonna file a fucking complaint. He’s gonna show up at a picket line. He’s gonna write a strongly worded letter. He’s…

Actually, he’s got all night if the way Steve’s sprawled says anything for how long he’s gonna stay conked out. And he’s also got these handy alphabet magnets.

Letter it is.

—

”What the fuck?”

d3ar 3nergy d3pt he4d i ju5+ wan+ed to te11 th15 guy i w4n+ t0 b1+3 him but n00 y0u c4nt e73n d0 +h4t i h8 u

Eddie trips over some empty bottles, the answer of how they got there pounding in his head real quick—oh, hey, hangovers do transcend dimensions, seems suspicious—but yeah, okay, he does remember getting creative with the abundance of math magnets in the poorly-labeled alphabet pack last night, misleading to lead on letters by default on the packaging. He does recall being very convinced a sideways ‘7’ was a passable ‘V’. But.

He’s not looking at his side of things. He’s looking at Steve’s.

And so is Steve.

And then Steve—who Eddie wants to bite but also kiss and maybe just hold in his arms chest to chest to feel his warmth because when his control broke last night it conveniently knocked him upside the head with the clear realization of that fact that Steve Harrington?

Is doing all this shit for him. On the hope of a maybe.

And Steve Harrington had been disappointed not to have found his lookalike in Eddie’s porn rags.

And Eddie wrote a letter to the fucking DoE in magnets about it, and Steve can see it, stuck to his fridge in 1986 as clear as Eddie slapped it there in 1983.

”…Eddie?”

Steve’s voice is so small and so fearful to be wrong. His chest is heaving, he’s scared.

Eddie scrambles for the magnets left on the floor and smacks them violently to the refrigerator door in record time, prays to everything he doesn’t believe in that Steve can feel his relief spelled out in the bulky primary colors:

h3y 61g b0y v3

And goddamnit, when Steve falls to the floor with his jaw dropped loose, Eddie is 100% sold:

A ‘V’ turned on its side absolutely makes the bottom half of a heart for the three to butt-up to.

—

“Got these to play so if you were there, and couldhear me, you could find your way, if,” and Steve, Steve has been talking to Eddie since they both woke up and found those magnets, even if they haven’t been able to replicate anything, not the letter nor the faulty lighting trick Eddie’d complains about on the fridge in the first place: it could just be a fluke. Steve has no reason to believe Eddie’s alive, that Eddie did that, that Steve didn’t sleepwalk into sleep-spelling, that Eddie even alive in some form would be following his every move.

Of course he is, but. Steve can’t know.

It’s all on faith. For Eddie.

And fuck is Eddie’s heart doesn’t go playing ping pong with his ribs for how much it hits him, how wide and warm it swells in his chest like hope, only second to affection, to want, to—

“Vecna’s not gone, but he’s like, one step from it. I don’t know he can get you but,” Steve taps to the Walkman, to the headphone he gets on just one ear so he can hear and also so someone else—so Eddie—can hear Megadeath as Steve bustles around his house, packing a duffle that reminds Eddie of when they were peeping to storm the castle—

That’s what Steve’s doing. That, that’s what Steve is doing right now.

“I just,” Steve heaves a deep breath, hands on his hips before one pinches between his eyes; “I felt like you were still there, I can’t explain it,” and Eddie’s shaken to his core right now in the best possible way so when he blurts out in a croon:

“Power of loooove, Stevie!”

He can’t be blamed for that. He can’t. He’s…

This man is going down into hell, has not grantee of what Eddie knows in it being largely innocuous, now, save…undead Vecna lurking somewhere, so weak he’s not even noticed.

“But we know music works though, so.”

Steve’s still narrating his plan; Eddie is just staring. Wants to…wants so fucking bad to touch.

“We have to wait for night, for me to get down there. They’re shitty with security on the graveyard shift.” Then Steve’s smirking, and fuck, he’s so pretty.

”Plus Robin sleeps like the dead, she won’t have a chance to notice what I’m doing even on the off chance word got out.”

And the fact that Steve is willing to defy his own platonic soulmate for Eddie—barely knows him in terms of days and hours but at least, if it’s the same as Eddie’s realising more and more that he feels, and unshakable too: it’s like his soul knows Steve, and that cannot care a lick for how time runs, it’s bigger than that.

There’s too much of a sense of potential, a crackling possibility just being in his proximity, even with the distance of other goddamn dimensions—there’s too much swirling in Eddie already for it to mean nothing.

Plus, like: flip the script. Steve is risking everything on a whim, for him.

It cannot be nothing.

“I’m hoping you’re where we left you, which,” and Steve’s voice catches, he pauses, looks around like he’s hoping Eddie might pop into the visible spectrum, so he can see and know, but then he just looks up at the ceiling like—oh, fuck, like it’ll make sure no tears fall out and:

“I can’t fucking tell you how sorry—“ Steve starts to say be Eddie can’t bear watching like this, strides over in an instant and grabs Steve’s hand.

And Steve stills.

And Eddie can feel his pulse in his wrist.

“Is that you?” Steve barely breathes, stares now at his arm where…Eddie can only see the kind of glimmering overlap that means two things are happening in the same place on different planes, he’s grown used to that. But.

If Steve can feel him, if there are moments here that are probably limited where Eddie can prove some little tiny bit that he’s here and he’s listen and he’s with Steve—

He pulls Steve’s hand and drags him into the kind of full body hug he’s been aching for for…fuck.

Too fucking long.

“Eddie,” Steve sighs out, and Eddie can’t help himself. He runs hands through Steve’s hair, and holy fuck: Steve leans in.

Steve feels it enough to lean in.

“It feels like I’ve been falling for a ghost, man.”

Steve says it on a whisper, like he’s still not sold entirely, or else maybe afraid to break a spell. Eddie gets that second part.

“But I guess it kinda started before that, so maybe it’s not as fucking crazy,” Steve laughs a little wet with it and…Eddie has to, because what if he never gets another chance, and hell—if he does, how can he deprive them both the chance to know whatever the sensation will be, like this?

Eddie’s not up to risk never knowing what a cross-dimensional lip lock feels like, okay?

So he doesn’t.

“Please don’t be a ghost,” Steve breathes out and fuck, Eddie can’t taste it but he can feel the way the air moves and it’s, it is; ”I think if you are, I’ll live the rest of my life trying to make it work anyway, I,” and Steve doesn’t get to finish because Eddie pushes in again, and Steve’s as good as his reputation and then some, on wholly separate planes of being.

Eddie cannot fucking wait to feel it flesh to flesh.

“I fall fast, man, but this is kinda insane,” Steve pants, arms out awkward with any indication where to hold. He’s adorable.

He’s delectable.

“But you did say you wanted to bite me, assuming you were talking about me,” Steve smirks but then his eyes go wide:

“Oh, shit, are you a vampire?”

And Eddie has no idea how long he’s been down here alone, surrounding by the silence and the darkness and just the projection level overlay of Steve when he’s lucky, but Jesus H. Christ—

“Is that you laughing?” Steve chokes on his own kinda-giggle as he braces against an unseen and unseeable force barrelling into him: of course it’s Eddie.

Of course he’s fucking cackling.

Because however long it’s been, he definitely hasn’t laughed at any point at all in that span of time—and fuck if he didn’t need it.

—

Steve slips down the last burbling gate not without effort, not without lava-hot road rash no doubt fucking with his already not-yet-healed stomach.

When he’s tackled, thrown straight to the ground, weight pinning him to the ground that’s more dry, more deadened than Steve remembers from just days ago: when his back hits the ground—none of it matters.

“It was me laughing.”

And then Eddie’s mouth is on his—it’s the echo he was afraid he’d imagined that morning, just like the hand on his wrist, just like the laughter wrapped around him.

“You’re an even better kisser in person, holy shit, even your fucking glowing reputation shortchanged you.”

And Steve’s kinda breathless, not just for getting smooshed to the dirt; but then Eddie’s kissing him again, and breathing seems really kind low on Steve’s list of giving a shit.

“You are so my type it’s not even funny,” Eddie says, before diving back into kiss with a bruising kind of force, an unmistakable kind of intent; “I think my type has fully migrated to include kinda just you.”

And Steve’s heartbeat kinda stutters at that because…that’s new.

No one’s ever…well.

It’s just new.

“You weren’t wrong to leave me behind, you don’t ever have to apologize,” and then he’s kissing along Steve’s jaw, and it’s Steve’s laughter now, the tickle of dirty curls dragging at his stubble; “you got out, you’re safe, you’re here,” and Eddie sounds almost overcome with feeling, with relief, and then in the end, bubbling with joy. And somehow Steve can tell it’s not because Steve’s here to save him, bring him home.

It’s just because Steve’s here and that, that is—

Steve’s heartbeat’s just gonna do that tripping thing for the foreseeable future he thinks, at this point. Probably.

“I was trying to convince myself otherwise, because I didn’t think there could ever be a shot in hell but I was falling before it all fell apart, too,” Eddie says in a rush, leaning again to kiss the corners of Steve’s lips, like talking is just an inconvenient interruption to better ways of using his mouth and given how goddamn much Eddie Munson’s always talked, that fucking says something:

“And ever since, it’s felt like I was falling in love through a movie screen,” and he cups Steve’s face to angle it just so as he breathes, those eyes endless and glistening; “could see but never reach, until,” and then he’s kissing him straight on the lips again, a full-frontal assault, tongue seeking teeth, looking for the depths of his goddamn soul of something.

Steve isn’t even embarrassed for how he arches up, how he fucking moans. No one could ever feel this and do anything less.

Like: fucking impossible.

“I liked your letter to the editor,” Steve gasps when Eddie breaks apart and concedes to needing air, presses kisses up and down Steve’s throat while he regroups.

“Oh, shit,” Eddie’s face pops back up—dirt smears and ruddy and in need of a shower but on the whole in way better shape than Steve last remembers having to walk away from, and fuck, fuck—he’s never walking away from it again; “can we send that to the Post? No edits, I want my numbers intact, let them try to figure it out like Zodiac.”

Steve snorts, because god he really is half in love with this nerd, and he’s not a ghost, he’s sold and his chest is heaving into Steve’s and he’s grinning wills and he’s here and they’re here and this is realand—

He yells when the sting clamps through his much-less-extensive uniform of his Members Only jacket despite the weather—it’s freezing, but like, the gates were just cracks, he had to move like a ninja!

Just not a bite-proof ninja, apparently.

“You know, I should have expected that,” Steve deadpans, but his smile gives him away as Eddie pulls his mouth back from the stretch of Steve’s neck that runs to his shoulder, where honestly Steve thinks Eddie punctured the coat in the process. Fucking feral gremlin.

Steve really wants to keep him. Like, indefinitely.

“You really, really should have,” Eddie agrees, beaming like the sun when there’s only dark around them, making it all feel so warm in the chill.

“Honestly should have expect nothing less,” Eddie’s smile curls a little dangerous as he leans in again, apparently satisfied with having caught his breath enough as he mouths wet against Steve’s lips:

“Big boy.”

And then, again: he pounces.

♥️

also on ao3💫

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[lucygraysboy]

“why’s my sufferin’ funny now? cold-hearted birdie,” billy grumbles, trying to pretend he’s genuinely offended by the comment. his efforts last less than two seconds — it’s impossible not to break character and laugh when lucy gray pokes his cheek. two dimples appearing on each side of his face, he doesn’t even try to wipe the greasy residue, too happy to care. “you’re makin’ me blush, rainbow princess.” there’s nothing but affection in his voice. a hand reaching across the table just to tap her cute nose. a prince! it’s the most meaningful compliment he’s ever received. if he allows himself to think about it, he’ll get emotional because knowing that he hasn’t, after all, let that little girl down is everything to him. “i love you.” it just rolls off his tongue and when he hears himself, he nearly drops his slice of pizza, turns bright red and adds, “my rainbow birdie best friend.” but it’s a weak attempt at saving his dignity and this afternoon. “that’s so true. baby billy would have loved boba tea.” edible orbeez! what child wouldn’t be fascinated by the concept? “ohh, dragon fruit! yes! let’s make it pretty!” he squeals, just trying to make her laugh but of course there’s a part of him that’s genuinely excited about the prospect. “i don’t know what you’re talking about. i only have one favorite. lucy gray baird. favorite singer? lucy gray baird. favorite disney princess? lucy gray baird. favorite supermodel? lucy gray baird.” he laughs when the napkin hits him, bouncing off his forehead and landing on the table. “we’ll just have it delivered to our doorstep then. whatever you want.” he takes another bite from his slice of pizza, his tastebuds melting at the familiar combination of flavors. he could eat at sal and carmine’s for the rest of his life and not once think he’s had enough. snickering as he watches her face turn cherry red, billy continues to chew on that gooey mozzarella but struggles to keep a straight face. he shrugs, swallows, and quietly explains, “‘cause it’s a boy thing. and you said weird as in boy weird. that’s the only thing i got and you don’t so it must be that.” it feels like he’s back in middle school, teasing her and trying not to laugh.

“why? are you bein’ jealous?” amusement lifting in her voice, arched brows perking. lucy gray having too much fun with this… finding thrill in that and wondering why he thinks other boys are going to fall in love with her so easily. “billy,” before she can protest for him to not do that, he doesn’t need to do all this work… he’s already off and she has no choice but to graciously accept. “orbeez…” a soft laugh emits, tapping at her chin, wiping off pizza sauce. “no, they pop on your tongue and the sweet flavor that comes after is really good. you can avoid them if you need to, though. but maybe we’ll stick to homemade smoothies today.” since she doesn’t want her hand to freeze off the entire way back to his apartment. “that so surprising? i did pick one.” lucy gray announces, playing dumb like she doesn’t know what he’s so surprised about. “yeah, it is. but what do i do when i get hungry again later?” amusingly laughing, already thinking about her stomach for later. “weird as in just… boy weird. but sometimes your fashion sense can be included. even if it’s cute at the same time.”

[globaloppaaa]

tell us about meeting enhypen PLS

aw haha yes!!

again, might have to delete this in a week for privacy reasons hehe…

PART 1 of my lil story time

so on “night 2 😏” as me and my crazy obsessed friends like to remember, we figured “okay we have to perform tomorrow morning, let’s exit the arena early so we can just get to bed.” but the security guard gave us a weird look as we tried leaving with everyone else. he was like “no no, artists come through here” and ushered us to exit back through backstage… right as all the artists were coming off too.

so we’re walking back down the hall to leave and my eyes immediately focus on this group of tall ass dudes, i think my friends realized who they were too bc one of them whipped out there phone to record.

but i had done this before and knew that we should respect their space, and also knew since we were performing we couldn’t get caught doing anything to make the CJENM look bad bc they were our sponsors, i had to throw in that professional pep-talk that was like “DONT TALK DONT SMILE JUST BOW AND GO.”

as soon as i finished saying that it was like they just appeared before my eyes… enhypen was literally right in front of me like in a single file line, they looked like a kindergarten class lmao the formation was tight 😭

i didn’t get to have a conversation but we “very calmly and professionally” wished them good job and bowed lol, they said thank you and good job to us too!! i was like “are we actually important omg”.

Jake’s smile?? OH MY GOD could literally light up a sky i’m not exaggerating. he was so sweet and kinda gave frat boy lol.

Sunoo looked like the most precious little thing i’ve ever seen his little thank you was adorable (but he is NOT short lemme tell you)

Jay and Jungwon looked a bit confused lol i don’t think they could tell if we were random fans or performers bc our Badges were covered, but they both gave us thumbs up! Jungwon is… wow he’s like ripped. that muscle T did him so well lol. I think he got suspicious why my friend was “clapping” for them with a phone in hand haha.

Sunghoon? yeah um… so i didn’t know that my friend was secretly recording but

THATS HIM LOOKING AT ME

i looked at him and embarrassingly, time actually stopped 😭 i was like “so this is what true love is wow.” lmaooo he like LINGERED ON ME FOR A SEC? i didn’t wanna be up in his face so i just politely smiled and bowed

niki had been eyeing us during the concert FOR SURE… so when we said good job and greeted him he seemed almost comfortable saying hello! i was aw hey old pal. i have pics of this too but..privacy hehe

heesung is A SKYSCRAPER HOLY FUCK, like ik he’s not the tallest but mind you im like 5’3”. He smiled and it was so cute and said thank you while he was grabbing himself a water and it was such a special moment for us. i’m truly never gonna forget it!

let me know if you guys want any other stories with the other groups!!

[akanemnon]

(I have two statements, I’ll start with the least relevant one first and the more relevant last so it (hopefully) sticks more.)

NOTE (mainly for the irrelevant one): I have no ill intent behind anything I’m typing and just want to thank Akane for unintentionally teaching me a thing or two about art.

Irrelevant statement: I’ve seen many people talk about how your AU and overall artwork inspired them to do comics (heck, even I once told you this), but something else your art has helped me with greatly is anatomy.

My countless drawings I made of your KFC gang helped me simultaneously with fat and very lanky bodies, height differences, etc.

Now I’m kinda wishing I drew your version of Susie so I can properly learn how to draw muscles. Not all of my own characters are human and muscles are something I can kinda draw, but it always comes out a little weird looking…but I’ve been kinda nervous to draw TR!Susie and Ralsei in fear of then looking to different…

Relevant statement: I can see why you were proud of this page. I love the heart-to-heart between Kris and Susie. It makes me wonder if we may see a backstory or may learn a little more on Susie’s past.

Kris and Frisk are the main focus, so this “mini”-page felt like a nice change of pace and a good addition to the script that leaves me with some pretty cool predictions. Even though I’m probably getting my hopes up because as you said, this wasn’t originally part of the script, I still wonder where you may go with this…

Representation is something incredibly powerful. Not only does it help with being feel seen in a medium you like, it also INSPIRES artists to step out of their comfort zone and try their own hands at drawing different body types, sizes, etc...

Muscles are kinda sorta difficult. Like with most things in art, it all comes back to anatomy. That is the basis of drawing bodies. If you got that down is when you can start to stylize. Of course you don't need to study every single muscle in the body, but something that helps is using references or do figure drawing for example! There are plenty of free images online just for that kind of stuff. An artist who doesn't use references is just willingly making things harder for themself. In case of drawing muscles, look up all sorts of different athletes! It all depends on what kind of built you are going for. Athletes train their bodies specifically for the sport they're are doing, so the muscle distribution and built will be dependant on that.

As for your other statement... as you said, the focus of the story is on Kris and Frisk, so there isn't exactly enough room to wrap up everyone's dynamics. Especially considering how close we are to the trial. Which is basically the final showdown. We got 46 pages left to go. So you'll see how the story will play out. There is still room for these characters to grow after Twin Runes ends. But that will be all up for interpretation. Because after Twin Runes ends I will start The Other Script.

[tsuutarr]

YO I KNOW HOW TO RUIN THE EVIL SCIENTIST!!!!!

So we do a little trolling-

Jk, darling wakes up with no problem, buuuuut she doesn't like that he's old now, doesn't like that he's got this weird aura going on (it's called being evil), nitpick everything she doesn't like and eventually, admits she doesn't like him anymore!

"I mean, thanks for reviving me, but I want a divorce."

So this ask plays really well into the "routes" you can take for Thomas if he ever becomes a yandere dating sim ML. The routes are as follows:

Reader remembers Thomas OR is good enough at trickery to make him believe they remember.

Reader doesn't remember Thomas BUT Reader is grateful towards Thomas and willing to learn how to live with him.

Reader is ungrateful towards Thomas/dismissive to him.

1 and 2 would be the "good routes" with 2 being better than 1. In 2, Reader isn't exactly like how Thomas remembers Reader to be, but Thomas loves Reader all the same because people can change and he accepts that. As long as Reader tries, he's satisfied and happy. This is more of a soft yandere route since Thomas would be possessive and stuff over Reader but Reader lives a normal life for the most part.

In 1, Thomas hyperfixates on past Reader, so while it's technically a good ending, Reader kind of has to live in their own shadow. This is also a route where Thomas is super yandere and locks Reader up, ensuring that Reader can't leave the mansion.

And for 3, Thomas has had many failed experimentations. A successful experiment would lead to Reader being cordial with him as a bare MINIMUM. If Reader dislikes Thomas, it means that his experimentation failed, so he'll dispose of the Reader and continue his experiment to revive his love.

Thomas is extremely devoted and delusional, but he's also calculative and pretty cold. If Reader was rude and dismissive to him, he wouldn't really be ruined -- just disappointed that his experiment failed again. He doesn't even need the Reader to be all over him, just being neutral is a success to him.

Once the Reader is rude to him, he doesn't view Reader as his love anymore. Instead, he views rude Reader as another failed experiment and is extremely detached. Though, he'd also feel massively guilty because he doesn't blame Reader for turning out rude -- he blames himself. It's all his fault he couldn't bring back Reader properly, it's his fault the experiment failed. So he'll do what he can to finally, finally succeed.

[lapdoodlebop]

Stole A Breath

A small little ace x reader drabble I made! it was supposed to be part of a series but then it got out of hand and slowly stopped becoming part of what I originally intended. Not proofread!!

————————————————————————

What sorta loser gets all sweaty when they start holding hands with their crush?' Little does Ace know that he IS that sorta loser, as much as he'd loathe to admit it.

Don't get him wrong. When the two of you become friends, it's nothing to bat an eye over for him. Pats on the back for getting test scores that would send any student spiraling? You guys shared those all the time.

Playful hair ruffles for when either of you say something stupid? He's already messing up your hairdo despite your constant complaints. The sight of you taking his hand while you're pushing through the halls of a bustling crowd isn't even uncommon. You two became best friends in a flash, with physical affection as easy as breathing air.

But all the sudden, it's gotten a bit harder to not choke around you.

————————————————————————-

You and Ace just got out of class, and already swarms of students was taking up every bit of surface possible. There's not even a special occasion, maybe other than a special lunch deal that's been plastered on the walls as posters. Ace clicks his tongue; he's interested to try the new breakfast sandwich on the menu, but he's not sure he wants to weave through hangry, desperate students for it. Thats when you seem to cut off his airflow.

“Come on,” you wordlessly raise your hand and take his before he can get a chance to breathe.

Your fingers are a lot softer than he gave credit for. Did you have some sort of deal with Vil for moisturizer or something? It’d explain why he feels the need to feel your palm at least one time and at most a dozen or two dozen. And your grip is firm, but it’s so gentle too. The way it’s wrapped around his own rougher fingers suddenly has him praying he doesn’t have sweaty palms. He doesn’t, right? That would be so lame. But you haven’t complained yet. You shouldn’t, y-you’re the one that initiated all the skin contact, not him!

His cheeks pinken, eyebrows furrowed as the corners of his mouth twitch into a dismayed expression. What the hell was he thinking? This wasn’t any different from all the other times you took his hand.

So why can’t he follow a single word you’re saying? Something about the cafeteria and cats and sandwiches, he can’t even remember what he wanted right now. Sure the crowd’s a lot bigger than expected, he’s getting pushed against you and his chest bumping into your back is causing him to choke on what little breath he has, b-but that’s a given! Great Seven, he never pays attention in class but this is ridiculous. His eyes keep looking from the back of your head to the hand you interconnected with his, slotted like a puzzle piece waiting to be complete. His hand (all on its own, that’s what he’ll tell you) turns to hold yours (his ‘lead me away’ doesn’t sound so sarcastic anymore when it’s for you). The casual squeeze you give him back sends him further than he thought, goosebumps suddenly running under his sleeve and across his arm. His breath catches in his throat again and now he has to breathe manually before he forgets to.

And then, an idea hits him. A stupid, stupid idea.

You have to be thinking the same thing, right? That’s why this feels so weird. You two are on the same wavelength so often that you must be somehow projecting your thoughts into his own. That HAS to be the reason! It’s totally not him trying to save face over the fact he’s becoming the guy clamoring over one bit of contact from a person he thinks is kinda (really) nice to look at and kinda (really) nice to be around and he wouldn’t mind hanging out with them (forever, in a space together, seeing each other all the time and more).

The butterflies twirling around in his stomach must be what you’re experiencing too, certainly not caused by how you turned back and smiled at him, him of all people you share your smile with all the time as if it was reserved for him only. You must think the same about the wry smile he’s giving you back, one that holds a little too much affection than he wishes he held. He’s pretty great, right? At least, he hopes you think he’s great..

The cafeteria’s a lot closer than he thought. When you guys get there, he lets out the air you kept hostage from him. But now he’s definitely teasing you for wanting to be so close to him afterwards. Taking his hand and dragging him around, no shame in being interested y’know!

That night, unfortunately, he’s clutching his pillow against his reddening face, scowling at the idea that he wouldn’t mind you dragging him around like that on a date.

[wolfsclothing6]

Hey, love your stories! Could you write one about a guy who hates his body and buys a skin suit to become bigger and hairier? Maybe he doesn’t read the fine print, takes a hot bath, and gets stuck like that forever?

(Oh I like that idea and thank you for taking part of MorphoSkin Industries deluxe service)

Tobias Model #3224.

Package Arrived!

Okay, so I finally did it. After weeks of obsessing over the MorphoSkin Industries site, I pulled the trigger. My Deluxe Identity Series body suit arrived this morning, and let me tell you, the box was way heavier than I expected. They ship it in this sleek, all-black container with "MorphoSkin—A New You Awaits" printed in silver. Fancy.

Ripped it open, and there he was: Tobias Model #3224.

6'3", built like a truck, covered in thick body hair, and rocking a solid dad bod. Exactly what I wanted. Something bigger. Something different. My real self? 5'9", kinda scrawny, patchy facial hair that never grows in right. But Tobias? He’s got that rugged, burly look—hairy chest, thick forearms, the kind of guy who owns a flannel and actually looks good in it.

I found the instruction booklet (didn't read it, let’s be real) and just went straight for the good stuff

The inside of the suit was... weird. Cool to the touch, kind of like putting on damp silk, but it moved when I stretched it. I pulled it over my legs first, feeling them thicken as I stepped in. My thighs ballooned, my calves stretched, and when I flexed my toes, I felt calluses that weren’t mine.

I tugged it up over my stomach, and whoa. Instant gut. It even jiggled when I moved. I gave it a little slap—solid, thick. Damn.

Pulling the arms in was surreal. My fingers got beefier, veins popping under the skin, knuckles bigger, hair covering my forearms. The weight of it felt right, like I’d been in the wrong body my whole life.

And the face?

Lining it up took a second, but once it was on, I felt a sharp tingle from my scalp down my spine. My vision blurred, ears popped, and suddenly… I was Tobias. Deep brown eyes stared back at me in the mirror. A strong, squared-off jaw covered in thick stubble. My neck even felt thicker. I ran my hands through my now wild, unkempt hair and let out a deep, rumbling laugh that wasn’t mine.

"Holy shit."

After pacing around, flexing my new muscles, admiring the way my hairy stomach peeked out under my stretched-out shirt, I decided to celebrate the best way possible:

A long, hot bath.

I turned the water on full blast, watching steam fill the bathroom as I stripped off the last of my clothes. God, everything felt so heavy in the best way. My arms rested on my belly, fingers idly scratching at the coarse hair now covering my chest. This body was made for lounging.

Sinking into the water was heaven. The heat wrapped around me, seeping into my new muscles, making them ache in the most satisfying way. I stretched out, letting my thick fingers drag lazily over the surface of the water, feeling completely at peace.

I lost track of time. The steam, the warmth, the weight of this body settling in—it was perfect.

Eventually, I forced myself to stand, water sloshing off my broad frame. I grabbed a towel, rubbing it over my arms, my chest—except something felt… different.

The suit usually had a slight give to it, almost like a second layer of skin. But now? It wasn’t moving.

I frowned, pressing a hand against my stomach. No shift. No subtle detachment. Just me.

I moved to the mirror, wiping away the condensation. Tobias’ face stared back at me, as expected—but there was no seam, no subtle ridge where my real face should be beneath. I reached up, pressing at my jaw, my cheekbones, even behind my ears.

Nothing.

I tried pinching at my wrist, where I knew the access point was supposed to be. The skin didn’t budge. I dug my nails in harder, trying to find an edge, a weak spot—anything.

My breathing picked up.

"No. No, no, no—this was temporary. Just a temporary malfunction. I just needed to let it cool down, right?"

I paced the bathroom, my heavy footsteps thudding against the tile. My arms swung at my sides, the thick forearms, the hairy knuckles—it all felt too real now.

I snatched up the instruction booklet, my hands trembling slightly as I flipped through the pages. Then, I saw it:

"DO NOT EXPOSE SUIT TO EXTREME HEAT FOR EXTENDED PERIODS. High temperatures may cause permanent fusion with the host."

The booklet slipped from my fingers.

Permanent...

I looked back at the mirror, at the deep brown eyes that were no longer borrowed but mine. My broad shoulders, my thick-fingered hands. Tobias's body.

This was me.

I took a deep breath, watching my massive chest rise and fall. I ran a hand through my thick, unruly hair, scratching at the beard I hadn’t earned but now owned. My voice rumbled out in a nervous chuckle—except it wasn’t nervous.

It was satisfied.

I swallowed hard. Maybe this wasn’t the worst thing. I wanted to be Tobias, didn’t I?

[its-the-allure]

Drarry Rec List

Favorite trope/tag: Established Relationship

First Time for Everything

By gracerene | Explicit | 7.3k

Summary: Harry's ready to try something new.

Why I like it: Established relationship and first time? Yes please!

I've Got a Beautiful Feeling (Everything's Going My Way)

By toomuchplor | Explicit | 3.6k

Summary: This is absolutely unapologetic explicit filth but it's also absolutely unapologetic as a representation of been-married-a-while sex. That's got to be somebody's specific kink, right? If that's you, enjoy.

Why I like it: Please see above.

horizon

By @desertforestfic | Explicit | 1.6k

Summary: The sun rises on Harry and Draco.

Why I like it: Sweet and hot! Plus this Freeform tag says it all - “denial of how non-casual the casual sex is getting”.

Under the Mistletoe

By @jelliewrites | Explicit | 4.4K

Summary: Draco kisses Harry under the mistletoe...

...but not the kind of kissing you're thinking about, you sweet summer child!

Why I like it: all my favorite things in a new, clever way. The first of several sexy shorts in this established-Drarry life. Read them all!

Snow Can Wait

By its_the_allure (me!) | Explicit | 5.5k

Summary: Ten years after the war, Harry is on a first date with a cute Muggle bloke attending a classical music recital. But then the house lights go down, and an achingly familiar man with a shock of white-blond hair walks across the stage toward the piano.

This is a story about waiting - and making up for lost time.

Why I like it: Okay it feels weird to self rec in a rec list, but imma do it! This was my first time trying a non-linear narrative and I’m really pleased with how it turned out. We have a deeply in love Harry which I just adore, and Draco is super hot.

Nothing Gold Can Stay

By @moonflower-rose | Explicit | 40.1k

Summary: One summer evening, Harry Potter vanished in the middle of dinner with his friends. Four days later he came back. Sort of.

Draco Malfoy is on the case.

Why I like it: Such delicious pining!!! Very lovely characterizations of Harry & Draco. I want all the good things for them.

Come In, the Water's Lovely

By @wolfpants | Explicit | 3.5k

Summary: In the lush wilderness of Madeira, Harry and Draco reunite.

Why I like it: porn with feelings, my best and most favorite thing

Harry after Healer

By @zephyne | Teen | 1.2k

Summary: Harry’s loopy on potions after his procedure. Draco rather likes Harry this way, all open and innocent and awestruck. Oh—and yeah. Obsessed with Draco’s beauty. That part’s rather nice.

“Do we call each other ‘love’? How long have we been together?”

“We’ll have been married three years next month,” he replies.

“Merlin, I hit the jackpot!” Harry exclaims, beaming.

Why I like it: Inspired by that adorable viral video where the man wakes from surgery and can’t believe how gorgeous his wife is. So sweet and cute.

He's Perfect

By @itsphantasmagoria | Teen | 7.9k

Summary: Draco's son with Harry is a shining light in his life, and is perfect just the way he is.

Why I like it: A wonderful glimpse of Drarry’s life post-getting together, and I love how they stand up for their child. The interactions with Draco’s parents are especially satisfying.

Far From The Tree

By aideomai | Explicit | 112.5k

Summary: The arrival of Harry Potter’s children—snapped back in time, the children themselves guessed, twenty or so years—was the most interesting thing to happen at Hogwarts for years.

Why I like it: Gorgeous writing, angst with a happy ending done so well, and the smut is smutting so hard!

PS. Do you have a favorite that isn’t on this list? PLEASE SHARE IT WITH ME!!!!