#it’s like. really crazy how real it’s becoming. Like you dream about something since you were a kid and now it’s about to come true

[nalgenes]

also now that i think about it, i started seeing my therapist at the start of july. which means i’ll have been seeing them for 6 months at the start of january. and that’s how long the surgeon requires patients to see therapists for before getting a letter of recommendation for surgery. so within the next month i might be moving forward with a consultation. Uhhh that’s bonkers

[theemporium]

[13.2k] the chalet was your home away from home in the festive season. but this year it may become the place you fall in love with the last person you expected. ft my very limited knowledge on how skiing works. (very lazy smut included)

.

Your family had always gone to The Chalet with the Montgomery’s for as long as you could remember. 

One spontaneous ski trip decades ago led your parents to start a tradition that would last through the generations. Every year, both families would fly out to the mountains of France to enjoy the festive season in the homely ski resort called The Chalet. Owned and ran by an elderly couple, it was the kind of place you would see in hallmark movies, or maybe even in a snowglobe. It was a place beyond your greatest winter wonderland dreams and imagination. The Chalet didn’t feel like a real place, and that was why the getaway every Christmas made the holiday so magical. 

It was your home away from home, a safe haven. It was the one place in the world where you could disappear from reality and embrace the isolation from society. 

At least, that was what the three weeks in the ski resort usually felt like. 

And after a year of moving away from home, starting a new job at the bottom of the food chain and dealing with more social circle drama than you ever intended to deal with, you craved nothing more than the simplicity and enjoyment The Chalet had to offer. You needed the break away from your life, a break away from the life you weren’t totally sure you had under control. 

You just wanted your home away from home, and instead when the families arrived at the resort, you were met with crowds of strangers swarming the place like a colony of buzzing, irritating bees. 

“What the hell?” You muttered once you had stepped out of the car, looking at the throng of people lingering outside the main entrance to the resort. 

“Apparently the place is booked out,” your mother noted from somewhere behind you as they began to unpack the bags from the boot of the car. “Madame Blanchet reserved our usual rooms when she started getting more and more bookings.” 

“Since when was this place overbooked?” You commented, a little blunter than intended. But it was hard to mask your surprise. A part of The Chalet’s charm was that it was a small, unknown ski resort hidden amongst the many that were established in the French Mountains. For as long as you could remember—hell, even before that—there hadn’t been more than ten or so families staying at the resort over the Christmas period. 

“Maybe Madame Blanchet finally learnt how to make a website,” a voice remarked from beside you, sounding quite amused by the mass of people, which shouldn’t have really surprised you. 

And just like you expected, you turned your head to find Harper Montgomery grinning widely at the crazy crowd like she was expecting it. She stood beside you with her hands on her hips, something about the bright ski suit looking so out of place, not that she acted as much. Every year, you swore The Chalet wasn’t ready for her and every year you were proven correct. 

“Considering the woman still has a dial phone, I am going to doubt the sudden online advertisement,” you snorted, shaking your head.

“Maybe this will be the Christmas we make new friends,” Harper noted, her head tilted to the side and her dark eyes scanning the crowd. “I am pretty sick of Mrs Hartford beating me at scrabble.”

Your lips twitched upwards. “Maybe you should stop challenging her then.”

Harper’s eyes narrowed. “Never.” 

“I still don’t get why so many people are waiting outside,” you grumbled as your eyes fell back to the crowd, noticing the way they were buzzing with some sort of excitement. “I don’t even think the lodge has enough rooms for this many people.” 

Harper hummed. “Maybe—”

“OH MY GOD!” 

Your eyes widened in alarm as you turned your head, seeing Evan standing a few feet away from you and Harper. The older Montgomery was gripping his phone, eyes full of adoration and awe as he grinned at his screen like a madman. He let out a high-pitched squeak, catching the attention of both families as they looked at him with varying looks of concern.

The blond finally lifted his head, oblivious to the worried looks as his grin seemingly widened. He thrusted a phone towards you and Harper, almost buzzing in his spot. “He’s here!”

Your brows furrowed together. “What?”

“He’s here!” Evan repeated, just as enthusiastic as the first time. “He is in our ski lodge! He’s here!” 

You still looked equally confused. “Who?” 

“His little man-crush,” Harper noted as she glanced down at his screen. 

“Charles Leclerc!” Evan sighed, almost dreamily as he hugged his phone to his chest. “We are spending Christmas with Charles Leclerc!” 

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, pushing past the boy to grab your suitcase so you could finally go check in. “For fuck’s sake, not your little driving guy.” 

“Hey,” Evan frowned. “He’s more than that.” 

“I have to listen to you talk about him for nine months of the year,” you remarked, though even that felt like an understatement. “Christmas is meant to be my free time from your little obsession. We made a deal.”

Evan blanched. “That was before I knew he was here!” 

“And now he’s ruining Christmas,” you grumbled bitterly, letting out a wince when you felt a pinch to your side.

“Don’t be such a grinch,” Harper teased. “Let him be a fanboy and spend his days on the slopes hunting the guy down. Don’t let it ruin your holiday.”

You snorted. “That will be hard when he is talking our ears off about Charles’ pretty green eyes or the way his hair looks after a race.”

“It’s fluffy!” Evan defended. “It’s unreal after a two hour race in a helmet!” 

“Whatever,” you muttered as you patted the boy on the chest as you moved past him. “You have him all to yourself, you won’t see me complaining about it.” 

Evan puffed his chest out. “You just can’t appreciate greatness.”

“Blah, blah, blah,” you waved him off. “I’m here to ski and relax. As long as this Charles guy keeps you and his little fanbase far away from me, I don’t care what he does.” There was a pause and Harper gave you a questioning look when she saw the glint in your eyes. “Even if he is overrated.”

Evan’s jaw dropped. “You did not just—”

“Last one in is a rotten egg!” You called out behind you as you grabbed Harper’s hand, dragging her towards the main entrance with you and letting your laughs echo through the reception as the boy swore up and down behind you.

…

You could have said that your resentment towards the Ferrari driver was purely based on how much Evan spoke about him during the racing season, but that would be a lie. 

It had started off that way when the boy finally made it into Formula One. Evan had been a motorsport fanatic from a young age, always eager to ramble away to you and Harper on various championships and seasons neither of you particularly cared about. As you got older, you learned to become more accepting and tolerant of the fact your Sundays would always be hijacked by whatever grand prix was occurring that weekend. 

However, when a young hot shot joined the sport that Evan had been following through the lower leagues, you didn’t realise just how quickly that tolerance would disappear until he was yapping your ear off after every single race. 

And truthfully? You didn’t get it. You didn’t get the sport in general, you didn’t understand what made a driver good or bad, and you didn’t understand the world’s obsession with Charles Leclerc as the years passed. To you, he just seemed like a pretty boy who enjoyed the spotlight of being the face of the sport. To you, he seemed like nothing more than a show pony. 

And no amount of debates and rants from Evan would change that. 

You wouldn’t have gone out of your way to say you hate Charles Leclerc, but you would say you were coming pretty damn close since you arrived at The Chalet.

The Chalet was bustling from the moment you opened your eyes to the moment you fell asleep. Wherever you went, it felt like you were pushing through a crowd to get from point A to point B. And the amount of times you had fans gripping your arm as you walked past, asking you if you had seen the Monegasque driver was starting to make you want to rip your own hair out. 

Yet, despite the buzz around the driver being in the lodge and the amount of fans circling the place through various hours of the day, you had yet to see the boy himself and that was something you were perfectly content with.

You had managed two blissful days before you crossed paths with Charles Leclerc. 

You had been taking too long to get ready so you assured Harper and Evan you would meet them at the slopes, insisting there was no need for them to wait for you. Both Montgomery’s—stubborn as ever—scoffed and told you they would be waiting for you in the lobby instead. 

You had been in a rushed state when you made your way towards the equipment valet, eager to just quickly hand your locker number over and collect your equipment. However, your path seemed to be blocked by a man standing in front of you, nose buried in his phone as he muttered in a language you didn’t quite understand. 

“Excuse me, do you mind if I just—” 

“Fucking hell,” the man swore, causing you to pause and frown at his back. 

You were taken aback, not expecting that response or the scoff that left his lips afterwards. And when he turned around, you were even more shocked when you realised you knew exactly who the rude man was—none other than Charles Leclerc. 

“Look, I appreciate that you are a devoted fan and I am grateful for the support, but I really don’t have time for pictures right now,” Charles continued and, to his credit, did look a little empathetic. Though, that didn’t take away from the underlying hostility in his words. “I am just here to enjoy my break. Please let me do so in peace.” 

You blinked, absolutely flabbergasted by his assumption. “Huh?”

The smile he gave you was almost condescending. “As a fan, I am sure you’d understand that I’d want a few days just free from the media and—”

And it seemed like only then did your brain catch up with the situation. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart, I am not a fan,” you stated as bluntly as you could, watching the boy’s face morph into something quite like confusion. As though he genuinely couldn’t compute the fact somebody wasn’t a fan of him. 

“What?”

“I was just trying to get my skis and you were standing in my way like a douche,” you said simply, watching as his brows furrowed closer together. “Which I would have felt bad for calling you before I realised who you were.”

“Who I was,” Charles repeated, still baffled as you pushed past him to do just as you said. 

“Hot shot who thinks everybody who breathes near him cares about who he is,” you supplied, a sickly sweet smile on your face as you now stood before him with your skis in hand. “Have a great day, Charles Leclerc.”

And the boy didn’t get a chance to say anything as you walked away, your mood positively ruined by the time you reached Evan and Harper in the lobby. They took one look at your sour mood and raised their brows in question, but you simply grumbled and waved them off, in no mood to repeat your interaction to Charles’ biggest sympathiser. 

Fortunately for the Montgomery siblings, your mood eased up by lunchtime and you were (mostly) over the whole interaction. 

…

Or at least, you were over the interaction until dinner came around. 

Dinner at The Chalet was like one massive family meal. With a large hall dedicated as the dining area, the Blanchet’s had set it up quite like a buffet system. There were tables of food bordering the room with tables dotted through the middle. Everyone sat on the round tables, in their little families and looking like a picture perfect scene for the final meal of the day. 

So of course your final meal of the day had to be ruined by an arrogant Monegasque who grinned at you like you two were old friends. 

“Ah, you! I’ve been looking for you.”

Truthfully, you wouldn’t have even realised he was talking to you if it weren’t for the fact the boy had stopped right beside you, practically looming over your shoulder as you tried to help yourself to some macaroni cheese.

You raised your brows, giving the boy a once-over before returning your attention to your plate. 

“Uh, hello,” Charles tried again, his brows furrowing together a little at the cold shoulder you gave him.

“Hi,” you stated simply, not wanting to spend any more moments with the Monegasque than you had to. 

“I wanted to apologise for earlier,” Charles continued, seeing your response as an open invite to a conversation. 

“Do you now?”  

“Yeah,” Charles nodded, a smile making its way onto his face as your sarcastic tone went completely over his head. “Listen, I really didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just—this is my holiday and I had no intention of my location being leaked. I just wanted a break from everything, you know? And I guess the frustrations of being bombarded for the last few days just got to me.” 

And truthfully speaking, a part of you sympathised with the boy. Though his fame reached levels you would never understand, The Chalet was your haven away from everything. It was a place where reality never seemed to touch, a place to escape. You could understand better than anyone what it was like to crave that feeling in your life. 

But just as you opened your mouth to say as much, Charles seemed to remind you exactly why you disliked him in the first place.

“And I just wanted to clear things up with you before the media found out and—” 

“So, you’re only apologising because you don’t want me running to journalists and ruining your image?” You interrupted, catching the boy off-guard as he gaped at you for a few seconds.

“Well, yes, it wouldn’t look good if I was harassing fans,” Charles said.

“But I’m not a fan,” you corrected him, gripping your plate in your hands. “And I certainly don’t care about shattering someone’s image for fifteen seconds of fame, no matter how much of a douche they are.”

Charles frowned. “I—” 

“You can take your apology and shove it up your ass, Charles,” you said, that sickly sweet smile on your face once again as you turned around to find whichever table your family were sitting at. But a hand reached out to softly grip your elbow and you turned to find Charles looking at you with a helpless expression. 

“I am sorry,” Charles said to you, something in his voice that you didn’t really understand. “But I also care about my image. Surely you can understand that.” 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you retorted as you tried to tug yourself free from his hold. 

Charles opened his mouth to reply, but a louder voice caught the attention of both of you. 

“STORMY! OVER HERE!” 

You felt your face heat up as you glanced over your shoulder, finding Evan sat amongst your family and his own as he waved you down. He had a shit-eating grin on his face (most likely from the fact he used the one nickname that he knew pissed you off more than anything else in front of everyone) and looked like he was about to do more when his gaze shifted to the man beside you. His jaw dropped, a comical expression on his face as he looked between you and Charles Leclerc.

“Stormy?” Charles repeated, looking over at you. 

You ignored his questioning gaze, instead narrowing your eyes at the hand still gripping your elbow. “Can you let me go now or is there more to your shitty apology?”

Charles opened his mouth once again, yet another person interrupted him before he got a chance.

“Charles? What’s taking you so long?”

Your eyes wandered to the girl who saddled up beside him, her expression light until she turned to look at you. Her gaze was calculated, her blue eyes seeming to size you up and something about the all white attire made you wonder if she was really playing into the Ice Queen vibes. 

“Another fan?” She sighed, as though your presence was the biggest inconvenience to her. “Honey, he can take pictures with you after dinner—”

“That’s fine, we’re done here,” you quickly corrected, ignoring the patronising tone in her voice or the way that Charles still looked like he had more to say. “I won’t be bothering either of you anytime soon.” 

You turned on your heels before either one of them had a chance to drag out the interaction any longer than it needed it to be. You weaved through the tables before making your way towards the table your family had chosen, settling yourself in the free seat beside Evan.

“That was Charles Leclerc!” 

You hummed, grabbing your fork as you began to dig in. “Unfortunately so.” 

“Dude, what the hell!” Evan hissed, pinching your side until you let out a small squeak and turned to him. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew him?”

You frowned. “I don’t.”

“You were talking to him for ages!” Evan countered. 

“He was just being a dick,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “Plus, that was probably the last time I’ll ever talk to him.” 

Harper snorted. “And you didn’t even get him an autograph.”

“Not that I would ask,” you prefaced before shaking your head. “But I doubt he would have given me one anyways. We…got off on the wrong foot.” 

“It’s Charles Leclerc,” Evan scoffed. “There is no wrong foot.” 

“Keep it in your pants, dickhead,” you teased, lightly pinching his side back in retaliation. “Even if I did get you an autograph, I would have shredded it after the Stormy stunt you just pulled.”

“But that’s your name,” Evan grinned.

“No, it’s what you called me for seven years because you couldn’t remember my name,” you retorted. 

“No, he remembered,” Harper piped in, a grin on her face that scarily matched her brother’s. “But with a temper like yours, Stormy just fits so much better.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. You both suck and so does Charles Leclerc.” 

“At least wait until dessert before you start insulting Evan’s boyfriend in front of him.” 

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

…

You had expected that was the last time your path would ever cross with Charles Leclerc and, for the most part, it was. 

A few days passed and other than some awkward shared glances in the dining hall, you hadn’t found yourself caught in a conversation with the Ferrari driver after his attempted apology and you were intending to keep it that way until the end of your trip. You were happy to continue on with your holiday, even if you swore you could feel a pair of eyes watching you sometimes. 

However, it seemed like the universe was on a mission to get your hopes up before crumbling them back down again—and this time, it was in the form of another involuntary meeting with the Monegasque. 

You hadn’t even noticed the boy standing a few feet away from you with a group of his friends. You were stood next to Harper, listening to her ramble away as you waited in line for the ski lift to take you to the top of the mountain. It was fairly early, most of the resort residents still enjoying their breakfast inside which meant the queue wasn’t very long. You had been eager to get out on the snow early after being one of the last in the passing days. 

However, whilst you failed to notice the driver, it seemed like Harper had. 

She watched the boy continuously glance over at you, like he was eager to catch your eye. She watched as he slowly shuffled closer, like he was trying to gain the confidence to jump into the conversation. She watched Charles Leclerc act like a hopeless fool, and it was somewhat endearing to witness.

And maybe—just maybe—she was in the mood for some drama that the vacation in the ski resort very rarely gave her. 

You were already settled in your spot when you felt someone shuffling in the seat next to you. You felt the comfort bar come down and you turned with a smile, ready to continue your conversation with your best friend when you realised your best friend was not the person sitting next to you. 

No, it was Charles Leclerc. 

Your head whirled around, finding Harper standing in the queue with a grin on her face. You shot her a look, one that spoke more than a thousand words on just how you felt about her betrayal. However, the girl just laughed and waved you off as the lift began moving and it was far too late to get off. 

Your attention shifted to the boy beside you again, noticing the sheepish expression on his face and you let out a sigh. 

It was fine. Totally fine. The ski lift took around ten minutes to get to the top of the mountain. That was hardly anything, practically a blink of an eye if you were being honest. It would be a quick ride up, you wouldn’t even have to talk to him and you could easily ignore him by the time you made your way back down the mountain. It was all going to be so, so fine.

“So, uh, how are you this morning?” 

And suddenly, even a second felt like ten years passing. 

You kept your head facing forward, hoping the boy would catch the hint that you weren’t interested in small talk and would also remain silent. Though, considering the fact he was fidgeting in his seat, you doubted the boy could keep quiet for longer than thirty seconds.

“The weather is great, right?”

Your brows furrowed together. The weather? Really?

“The pancakes were also really good at breakfast this morning. Did you have any?” He continued, only pausing for a moment when he realised you were making a point of not answering him. “Stormy?”

One simple word and that was enough for you to break your silence.

“Don’t call me that,” you snapped, a little harsher than you truly intended but the sentiment remained.

Charles blinked. “You don’t want me to call you your name?”

“It’s not my name,” you replied. 

He blinked again. “But in the dining hall—”

“It’s a nickname—one that Evan likes to wind me up with because he thinks I’m moody,” you explained before realising the boy didn’t really deserve an explanation. Not when you were adamant to keep this conversation short. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Well, I can see where he gets it from,” Charles said with a small snort. 

You frowned. “Excuse me?”

Seeming to realise what he said and just how it sounded out loud, it was almost comical to watch Charles’ lips part before he awkwardly gaped at his previous comment. “Not like that! I just meant—”

“Whatever,” you muttered as you turned to face forwards again, pleading for the lift to somehow reach the top of the mountain already.

“Look, I’m sorry. This wasn’t how I intended this to go,” Charles admitted, almost sounding a bit pained when he said it, as though he wasn’t used to admitting he was wrong. “I wanted to properly apologise. I shouldn’t have been so rude to you, and I definitely shouldn’t have brushed it off as anything except how you felt.” 

You paused, brows furrowing together as you turned to face him with a curious expression.

Charles blinked. “What?”

“I was just waiting to see if there was a ‘but’ coming,” you confessed.

“No buts,” he assured, pausing for a moment before his cheeks burned pink. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. That’s it.”

You let out a sigh, wishing that some part of you was suspicious about his apology but you weren’t. He sounded genuine, and as much as you wanted to—and still partially did—believe he was a bit of a pompous prick, you couldn’t fault that his apology seemed sincere.

“I accept your apology,” you said, your voice a little strained before you continued. “And I’m also sorry for being a bit of a bitch.”

Charles’ lips parted. “Oh no, you weren’t—”

“I was a little,” you said, your lips twitching upwards as the boy gave you a nervous smile. “I can assure you I won’t be telling any gossip pages about what an asshole Charles Leclerc is.” 

He actually laughed in response, despite the fact that alone would probably make his PR team bury him six feet under before the next season started. “I appreciate that, Stormy.”

You glowered at the nickname, but it only seemed to make the Monegasque laugh harder. 

…

Despite the exchange of apologies on the ski lift, you expected that to be your last proper interaction with Charles. 

You were also quickly realising that every time—so far—you had assumed as much, you would find yourself face to face with the driver once again. And this time was no different, except it came much earlier than a few days. It happened later that very same day.

You had made your way into the dining hall, grabbing a plate and beginning to survey the large buffet when you felt the warmth of another person standing beside you. You felt a hand brush your arm and turned to find Charles smiling at you. 

“Bonjour, mon ami.” 

You blinked. “What?”

His smile widened. “It means—”

“No, I know what it means,” you quickly corrected, shaking your head a little. “I just…didn’t realise we were friends.”

Charles’ brows furrowed together. “Why wouldn’t we be? I thought we had made up on the ski lift.” 

“Yes but, other than that, we are strangers,” you said to him like it was obvious—and to you, it was. Beyond a few misunderstandings and awkward apologies, the man in front of you was as much a friend to you as any of the other guests in the lodge.

“Well, we can change that now!” He said, and that smile returned to his face. “Turn over a new book or whatever the saying is.” 

Much to your own surprise, you found yourself laughing a little at his response. “Charles, I—”

“STORMY, HURRY UP OR I AM DRINKING YOUR WINE!” 

Both your and Charles’ head snapped over to Evan who was holding a wine glass in each hand, a large smile plastered on his face and a twinkle in his eyes that promised mischief. His hair was still wet from the shower he took before dinner, meaning it was slick back and giving him an almost wannabe Bond villain look. 

You laughed, shaking your head as you turned back to look at the driver. Only you found Charles still looking in Evan’s direction, something contemplative and almost begrudging in his gaze. 

“You okay?”

Charles turned to face you, and it took a mere second for the glare to disappear and be replaced with his bright smile once again. “Yeah, of course. It seems like you’re wanted elsewhere though.”

“He’s a menace,” you said, playfully rolling your eyes but the fondness was clear in your voice. “I love him even if he’s a pain in the ass.”

Charles only let out a contemplative hum as a goodbye as you headed towards the table where your family and the Montgomery’s were sitting. And maybe if you looked over at him as much as he did with you over the course of the dinner, you would have seen Charles looking a little too bitter every time your eyes were on Evan instead of him.

…

A week had passed in the resort and the Christmas spirit was starting to truly spread as the festive holiday quickly approached. 

Your parents and the Montgomery parents had decided to pass on the slopes, instead choosing to visit infamous glacier caves that had been advertised and talked about by some locals in the lodge. You, Harper and Evan had declined the offer to join them, though the excitement of no parents being around—despite the fact all three of you were firmly in your twenties—seemed to spark a shift in energy in Evan that could only be described as childlike. 

“I have a proposition.” 

Harper already let out a groan, tilting her head back as she did. You couldn’t see her eyes beneath her goggles, but you imagined she was rolling them. “God, no.”

Evan frowned. “You haven’t even heard it yet.”

“Your ideas are shit,” Harper said to her brother. “And usually dangerous.”

“No, they aren’t,” Evan scoffed.

You shrugged. “You don’t have a great track record, if we are being honest.”

“Whatever,” Evan grumbled before grinning at the two of you. “First two to reach the bottom wins. Sabotaging each other’s run is allowed. Loser has to do the forfeit.” 

Your eyes narrowed. “What’s the forfeit?” 

“Loser has to streak in the snow,” he grinned.

“I am not streaking in the snow,” Harper scoffed.

“Then, you better hope you win,” the older Montgomery countered with a grin. 

And begrudgingly, you and Harper agreed to his childish idea.

It wasn’t the first time a silly competition between the three of you got out of hand, and you truly doubted it would be the last. With no rules set and no parents to even try to intervene, it didn’t take very long before the competition got dirty and the run down the slopes became more chaotic. 

You had been running behind Harper, secure in second place and watching her movements closely to look for any weakness that you could exploit. However, you had failed to realise that Evan—who had been running behind after he almost skied into a group of people—was quickly catching up on you. 

You didn't realise until it was too late.

You let out a noise of surprise when you found the boy right by your side, one that quickly became a series of curses when you realised what he was doing. You tried to move away when you noticed him turning into you, but you were too slow and it only put you in a worse position when his pole lodged itself between your skis. 

He was long gone by the time you tumbled into the snow, cackling loudly as he went. You let out a groan of frustration as you turned until you were lying on your back. You winced a little as you tried to awkwardly scramble up onto your feet in hopes of catching up with the Montgomery siblings, but the second a bit of pressure was placed on your ankle, you were crying out in pain and your ass hit the snow once again.

“Shit,” you whispered to yourself as you sat in the snow, tears welling in your lash line at the shot of pain up your leg. 

“Cherie!” 

You lifted your head when you noticed someone skidding to a stop beside you. You blinked at them in a moment of confusion, but the second they removed their goggles and pulled down their mask, you found Charles—or at least, a very worried and concerned version of him—looking down at you. 

He took you in, noticing the glossy sheen to your eyes before he turned back to look over his shoulder, letting out a string of curse words that you were certain were not in English before his attention returned to you.

“Are you okay? What hurts? Is something broken? Should I call for them to send a helicopter—” 

“Charles,” you quickly interrupted the rambling boy. “I’m fine. I’ve probably just sprained my ankle.” 

“Yeah, because of him,” Charles grumbled, mostly under his breath like he had no real intention for you to hear the snide remark.

“It was a joke,” you waved him off, but that only seemed to upset the boy further.

“A joke?” He repeated, his eyes widening in disbelief. “You’re hurt. It’s hardly a funny joke.”

“Charles, calm down.”

The boy just scoffed, shaking his head before he lodged his poles into the snow, keeping them off the main trail before he turned to you and offered his hand. 

You looked at him expectantly. 

“Let me help you get down to the lodge,” he said in as calm a voice as he could manage. 

“Charles—” You began, but he wasn’t having it.

“No, cherie, I am not going to leave you here when you’re injured and alone,” he said, emphasising the last word in particular as he glanced around, almost like he had to remind you that Harper and Evan were most likely at the bottom of the slope by now. 

“Fine,” you said with a sigh, taking his gloved hand in yours as you allowed him to pull you up, keeping your weight on him with ease. “This doesn’t mean we are friends though, Charles.”

He only grinned at you, the first time he seemed a little more like himself since he stopped to check on you.

“Whatever you want to say, Stormy.”

…

As expected, you had sprained your ankle and were advised to take it easy for the next few days. 

And you were banned from hitting the slopes in fear of making the sprain worse. 

You wanted to be annoyed about the situation—and a small part of you was—but honestly, a few days in the lodge with some peace and quiet seemed like a dream. As much as you loved your family and the Montgomery’s, you needed a break from how loud and giddy and excited they were.

And as the days quickly approached Christmas, it felt like a nice relief to have some time to yourself before the festivities truly took over. 

You had waved them off after breakfast with a smile, teasing them not to miss you too much as they headed towards the slopes. Evan had offered to stay inside with you, even just for today, because of the guilt that he was the one to put you in the position. But you just rolled your eyes, assuring him you were more than happy to sit by the fireplace by the foyer and enjoy a day where you didn’t have to fall flat on your ass in the snow. 

You had been a few chapters into your book, curled up on the couch with your ankle elevated on a pillow with a blanket thrown over you when Charles and his friends made their way downstairs, prepped and ready with the intentions of heading out to the slopes. 

But the boy spotted you and found his feet moving in a different direction. 

“Stormy!”

You lifted your head, unable to even find it in yourself to be annoyed by his constant use of the nickname when he had a pretty smile on his face whenever he said it. He was bundled up in layers, probably on his way to the equipment kiosk before he headed for the lift. He looked comical next to the fire.

“My knight in shining armour,” you greeted, a teasing tilt in your voice but the boy missed it as he took in your appearance. “You look warm.”

“You’re staying in today?” 

You nodded. “Doc’s orders.”

“Alone?” 

You nodded once again. “I told the others they could—”

“I’ll stay with you!”

He said it so quickly that it took you a few seconds before you realised just what he had said. You blinked, your brows furrowing in confusion. “You’re at a ski resort and you don’t want to go skiing?”

“I’ve been skiing every day since I got here,” he said with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “I can handle not skiing for a day.”

You flashed him a smile. “It’s fine, you don’t have to—”

“But I want to,” he countered, the words passing his lips with ease.

You hated the way your chest tightened a little at his words. “Oh.”

Charles smiled at your response. 

“Charles, hurry up!” 

You missed the way his brows furrowed together at the voice when you turned to look at the woman standing a few feet away, looking impatient and slightly annoyed. It was the same woman from the other week, the one that looked a little too much like the cold weather personified. You had learnt over the passing days her name was Melanie, but that was about as far as your knowledge on the woman went, other than her clear attitude. 

Charles let out a sigh before he replied, a slightly more strained smile on his face. “Go on without me. I’m gonna stay in the lodge today.”

Melanie frowned. “Why?”

“Because I want to,” Charles stated simply, and the repeated words made your chest feel funny again. 

Melanie glanced over at you and then Charles, and then back to you again. Her eyes were narrowed and her glare felt icy, but before she could even think of saying anything, a friend from the group was calling out to her and she had no choice but to join them. 

Charles turned back to you, an easy smile on his lips once again. “So…what’s the plan?” 

You snorted. “To sit here because I’m practically bedbound, unless I want to hobble somewhere.” 

Charles pressed his lips together. “Well, sitting by the fire with no hot chocolate is sacrilege.” 

Your nose scrunched up. “But I don’t have cookies. Hot chocolate by itself isn’t fun without homemade Christmas cookies.”

“Then we will make them,” Charles said.

You rolled your eyes. “And where are we making them? In our rooms with a kettle, tap water and no other ingredients?”

“Please,” Charles said with a scoff, a glint in his eyes as he looked down at you with a proud glint in his eyes. “I am Charles Leclerc. I have my ways.”

You weren’t sure what strings he pulled, who he bribed or just what he blackmailed the lodge owners with, but you were filled with a sort of unease when Charles returned twenty minutes later. He had changed out of his heavy ski gear into a pair of jeans and a sweater that looked insanely cosy. And he had told you that he needed you to close your eyes, to trust him enough to carry you to the destination with a promise that all the drama would be worth it.

He looked so damn proud when he brought you to the lodge’s kitchen with bowls and whisks and ingredients sprawled across the counter—it made that funny feeling in your chest return. 

“How did you manage this?” You asked, an incredulous laugh leaving your lips when he sat you on the counter. 

“I’m Charles Leclerc, I can get anything I want,” he said, and once upon a time, you would have rolled your eyes and thought he was a pompous dick. You still thought he was a little cocky, but it was an endearing trait now. 

You raised your brows. “Do you, Charles Leclerc, know how to bake?”

“Nope,” he said honestly but he was still smiling. “But I am sure I can make something edible with you guiding me.”

“Smooth,” you snorted. “Don’t blame me if they taste like shit.”

As it would turn out, Charles had an overbearing need to be in control of everything. You guessed it came with the lifestyle, the fact his life is always in the palm of his own hands whenever he sat in a car that raced hundreds of miles an hour. However, it seemed like it also extended to the Monegasque ignoring your very clear and correct instructions to do something he insisted was the right way.

“In what fucking world do you need that much sugar?” You remarked, lips parted in shock as you watched the boy add more. 

“They are sugar cookies, cherie, it’s in the name,” Charles retorted.

“That doesn’t mean the batter should be seventy-five percent sugar!” You huffed as you reached over to try and grab the bag of sugar from him. “You are going to make us both diabetic with one of those damn cookies. Don’t you have a diet you are meant to be following?” 

Charles only grinned, a little mischievous. “Yeah but it’s Christmas.”

You shook your head. “You’re unbelievable.” 

“And you’re bossy,” he countered. 

“And I’m right,” you insisted as you frowned at the batter, wondering if it would be easier to just toss it out and start again. “It’s not my fault you don’t have the ego to handle it.”

“Or your ego can’t handle the challenge,” Charles said, something shining in his eyes like his words had a hidden meaning you couldn’t quite understand. “Tell me you don’t like it.”

You tilted your head a little. “You think you’re the only man to talk back to me, Leclerc?”

His tongue poked the inside of his cheek. “I would like to think I’m the best.” 

You couldn’t ignore the way his eyes darkened, the way it seemed to surge some sort of competition inside him. You couldn’t help but want to play on his fragile male ego a little more.

“And if I said you weren’t?” You questioned, pressing your lips together in a poor attempt to hide your smirk. 

Charles breathed out of his nose, his jaw clenching a little before he replied. “Then I would say Evan is a lucky man to have you.”

And just like that, your smirk dropped. 

“What?” 

Charles frowned a little. “I would say Evan is a lucky man,” he repeated, the words sounding a little forced as they left his lips. “You two seem like…a great match even if he does leave you abandoned on a ski slope after—”

“Oh my god, no!” You blanched, your shoulders hunching up to your ears as you shook your head. “Ew, no! Absolutely not!”

Charles blinked. “Huh?”

“Me and Evan—” You swallowed hard, unable to even get the words out. “It’s not like that between us. I have known him forever, he’s like a brother to me.” 

“Oh,” Charles murmured, taking a few seconds before he grinned. “Oh!” 

“Yeah, oh,” you grumbled.

Charles couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. “So, you aren’t—”

“Nope.”

“With Evan or anyone?”

“No one.”

“Good.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes at the giddiness written across his face. If someone told you it was Christmas morning, you would have believed them. “Subtle, Charles.”

“Subtle is my middle name.”

…

The next day, you met Charles by the foyer fireplace, but this time he was prepared with his own book. 

The day after, he was there again but both your books were quickly abandoned as you chatted away. 

The day after that, neither of you bothered to bring your books down. 

Despite your insistence that he should be out on the slopes enjoying his vacation and the downtime he had in between seasons, Charles was adamant that he was doing exactly what he deemed relaxing. And just like he said earlier, Charles Leclerc gets what he wants—and it seemed he wanted to spend his days huddled in the lodge with you. 

Everyone noticed the budding relationship between you and Charles, but nobody said a word. Well, your family and the Montgomery parents didn’t say a word. Harper and Evan on the other hand? They wouldn’t leave you alone.

Harper was cackling at the irony. She was throwing your words back in your face, teasing the way seemed to switch your opinion on the Monegasque driver in the span of a week and looked down right smitten for the boy. She teased you over the fact it took you almost two months before you went on a date with your ex-boyfriend, and here you were having daily fireplace dates with the boy you called an asshole less than a week ago. She was embracing her full right as your best friend to annoy the fuck out of you. 

Evan was a whole other story. The boy looked like a kicked puppy every time you came back from hanging out with Charles, only to tell him you didn’t get him an autograph nor did you bring into the conversation how cool he was or how amazing he was or how he and Charles would totally get on if you introduced them. You didn’t have the heart to tell the boy that up until seventy-two hours ago, Charles didn’t like him through a bizarre assumption.

It had been constant and annoying, but in a way that made your heart feel full because you knew no matter what, at least those two would support every decision you made. Even if they got unbearable during the meal times where Charles would find any excuse to come talk to you. 

Tonight was no different as he approached you with a smile spread across his face and something dangerous and promising shining in his eyes. You were sitting at the table alone whilst everyone else headed towards the tables to fill their plates—yours in Harper’s hand—and you were grateful for the small moment of peace as he leaned down. 

“Missing me already?” You teased. 

He shrugged, though he didn’t disagree. “I have a very important message for you.” 

You raised your brows in question. “Oh?” 

Instead of saying anything, the boy just grinned wider and handed you a small piece of paper. You frowned a little at it, looking up at him in confusion but the boy was already taking a few steps away from your table.

“Charles—”

But the boy just winked before turning on his heel, heading back to the table the rest of his friends were sitting at, where they were probably watching the whole interaction even if they tried to make it seem like they weren’t. 

You glanced down at the note in your hand, lips turned downwards as you opened the folded paper. It baffled you that he couldn’t just say what he had written down, but another part of you warmed a little at the idea that he had taken the time to write the note and go through with it—regardless of it being a bit silly. 

You couldn’t bite back your smile when you read the note. 

meet me @ midnight. my room number is 161. wear something cosy :) 

You snorted, shaking your head as every cell in your body thrummed in excitement to meet the boy you once hated later that night. 

…

“The note was cute, but I still don’t understand why you couldn’t just ask me to hang out.” 

“Because that’s not fun.”

“You just handed me the note, that’s hardly any different.”

“It was like a real life text, cherie. It’s how they used to do it back in the day.”

You snorted in response. 

You had listened to his advice, deciding that a hoodie and pyjama bottoms were the way to go as you snuck up to the floor he was staying at. Your knuckles had barely grazed the door before it was yanked open, a grinning boy on the other side. He was dressed in a baggy hoodie and grey sweatpants, his hair pushed back with a bandana and a pair of glasses sat on his nose.

He didn’t even give you a chance to say anything before he was dragging you inside.

It should have been obvious that Charles Leclerc of all people would have a suite but truthfully, you hadn’t even realised the lodge had master suites as big as this one. But it did. And it was huge. And you expected nothing less for the Monegasque. 

There were multiple different rooms that veered off the large living room: one that was furnished with a massive tv, soft plush sofas and a large fireplace that looked like it was straight out the front of a Christmas card. Surprisingly, it was decorated for the festive season with even a tree settled in the corner between the armchairs. It felt homely. It felt perfect for this midnight meeting. 

However, you didn’t get much of a chance to look around before he was dragging you out onto the balcony. There was a loveseat set up with pillows and blankets, and a small table set with hot chocolate and a plate of cookies (ones he assured you he had the chef make fresh). 

“I never took you to be so traditional,” you teased, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders as a light breeze hit you. “But I guess you have to make do since you haven’t even asked for my number.”

Charles raised his brows. “Is that your subtle way of telling me to hurry up and ask for it?” 

“Subtle is my middle name,” you retorted, his own repeated words thrown back in his face but they seemed to light a spark inside him. 

Charles’ eyes dropped to your lips for a few passing beats before they returned to your eyes, and you saw everything written in them. This was different to the days you had spent down in the foyer. Everyone could see you both. You could see everyone. It was public and out in the open and exposed. 

But here?

It was just you and him and the pretty night sky that shone and glittered with stars. You were away from the world, from reality. You were away from your family and friends. You were away from peering eyes and judgemental looks. You were in a bubble you never wanted to leave, huddled in thick wool blankets and desperately hoping he would close the minimal distance between you both. 

His lips were a hairbreadth away from brushing against yours when another breeze caressed your skin, sending a shiver down your spine that momentarily jolted you away from him.

“You’re cold,” he noted, though it was pretty obvious when you two were both outside in minimal layers. “Let’s get inside. We can warm up by the fire.”

And a part of you wanted to scream off the balcony into the French Mountains when he stood up, when the moment broke and his lips weren’t against yours. But as angry as you wanted to be, you were grateful when he guided you to sit in front of the fire as he added more wood to the dying embers.

His thigh was brushing against yours when he settled into the spot beside you on the floor, his cheeks tinted pink from the cold as he grinned at you before holding his hands out to the fire. You laughed, following suit and the conversation from moments before the almost-kiss returned. 

However, minutes passed and your body was still racked with small shivers that Charles quickly picked up on.

“C’mere,” he murmured as he lifted his arm, giving you little time to dispute (not that you were going to) as he wrapped his arm around you and tugged you into his side.

You didn’t think about it too much as you buried yourself into his embrace, as you pressed your cheek into his hoodie and enjoyed the way his hand seemed to leave a trail of heat wherever he touched. 

“If I get hypothermia and die, I’m coming back to haunt you and your sugar cookies,” you grumbled, though it was lighthearted as you pressed your nose further into the fabric of his hoodie. 

His chest shook underneath you as he laughed and tightened his hold on you. “I would never let anything happen to you, Stormy.”

“You and that stupid nickname,” you said as you let out a long sigh. “You know my actual name now. You have no excuse to use it.”

“Yeah, but it suits you,” Charles retorted, letting out a small noise of surprise when your cold fingers pinched his side. “Plus, you get this…uh, what’s the word…cute look on your face when you’re angry.” 

Your head snapped up to glare at him. “I don’t look cute when I’m angry.”

His face brightened. “Yes! That face! C’est mignon!"

Your eyes narrowed further. “Don’t pull the cute French card, it’s not gonna help you.”

“You think my French is cute?” Charles replied, his laugh echoing through the suite as you rolled your eyes.

“You drivers and your egos,” you grumbled.

“Have a lot of experience with drivers?” Charles questioned, a hint of something unreadable in his voice.

You snorted, both of you knowing the answer to that question but you played along. “Maybe I do.” 

His eyes darkened slightly. “What about kissing them?”

And just like that, Charles Leclerc had left you speechless for what felt like the millionth time since you met him.

His gaze was locked on your lips, the crackling of the fire felt like it was booming through the silent room and you were truly wondering if your heart was going to burst through your chest and splat on the floor in front of you both. 

“I can’t say I have much experience in that department,” you admitted once you managed to choke your words out.

His lips twitched upwards. “Would you like some experience, Stormy?” 

You didn’t know if you nodded or if he just took the signs of your flustered, stuttering mess and took mercy on you. You didn’t know if his hand reached to cup your face first or if it was your hand on the nape of his neck instead. You didn’t know if it was you moaning lowly into the kiss when his tongue darted out or if it was him. 

Kissing Charles Leclerc was overwhelming and world-altering and, truthfully, you didn’t think you could even utter your own name if someone asked you at that moment. 

“Merde,” he groaned before he kissed you harder, faster, more passionately. His other hand reached for your waist, those muscles hidden under his baggy hoodie put to good use as he hauled you onto his lap.

Your knees sat on either side of his hips, your ass firmly planted on his lap as the new position allowed you to fully wrap your arms around his neck. The boy’s hands dropped to your waist, squeezing and guiding as your hips shifted in his lap as his kisses left you seeking anything he would give you.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admitted when he had to pull away, when his lungs were burning for air. But you still wanted more, you sought out to keep hearing those pretty noises he made as your lips trailed down his neck. “So fucking long.”

“You took your time,” you muttered between open-mouthed kisses when his hold tightened as your lips passed a particularly sensitive spot just below his ear.

“You hated me for a majority of the time we’ve known each other,” he managed to utter out, his head falling back as your teeth lightly grazed his skin.

“Does it look like I hate you now?” You retorted, something about the back and forth feeling as thrilling and exciting as his fingers fiddling with the hem of your hoodie.

Charles’ eyes caught yours as you lifted your head from his neck, lips red and swollen and fuck, he wanted to kiss you again. “I think I need a little more convincing.”

“Yeah?” You watched as he nodded, a little too eager but it made your stomach twist in the best way possible. “Well, you did promise to keep me warm.”

“I did,” he murmured, his voice a little rough and husky.

“Warm me up, Leclerc,” you whispered as you leaned down to kiss him again, his hands squeezing your waist before your lips even touched. “And then I’ll decide if I hate you still.”

A choked noise of surprise left your lips when Charles suddenly moved. You were no longer sitting on his lap, but instead had been laid back on the floor with the boy now hovering over you. He flashed you a smile, one twisted with promises that made your chest feel tight.

You waited for him to lean down and kiss you again. You waited to feel his heated touch on your body. You waited for him to finally slide his hands under the fabric of your hoodie, to feel his fingers along your bare skin. 

But instead, he just looked at you with so much fondness in his eyes.

“What?” You questioned, and suddenly the idea of being naked underneath him was no longer the most exposed you felt.

“Nothing,” he said simply as he shook his head. “Just…wanted to make sure.”

Your brows furrowed together. “Of what?”

“That you’re okay with this,” Charles said as he finally lifted his hand, as he let his fingers brush across the apple of your cheek. You could feel your skin heating up underneath his touch. “I want you to know that I’m happy to just talk. I don’t want you to think I just invited you here to—”

“Charles,” you interrupted, and the boy fell quiet as his cheeks flushed pink. “I want to.”

He tried to bite back his smile. “Yeah?”

You laughed, nodding. “Yeah.”

And despite the reassurance and despite the heat in your body that just wanted to throw your legs over the boy and ride him until the sun came up, Charles Leclerc was nothing, if not a gentleman. And something about that made it so much hotter. 

His touch was always so confident but gentle. The way his lips pressed against yours, the way his tongue caressed yours as his fingers slowly peeled away the layers of clothes between the two of you. The way he paused to set down pillows and a blanket to make it comfier for you before his fingers hooked on the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs and discarding them someplace else.

The way you reached down to cup his bulge in his boxers, prepared to slip your hand beneath the elastic of his boxers and stroke the length of him—only to have your hands batted away. You barely got a chance to question him before his kisses silenced you, before they began moving south and you felt his lips on every inch of your exposed skin that he could reach. 

You felt breathless by the time he was between your legs. You felt like your head was spinning with pleasure as he hooked his arms around your thighs and happily settled between them. You felt like you were in some sugar cookie induced dream as you glanced down, catching his eager eyes watching every little move and reaction you made.

The fire was roaring a few feet away, loud and proud and yet, it was his touch and whispered words that made your whole body feel like lava was coursing through your veins. It was the way his tongue swiped and licked your needy pussy, the way his lips wrapped around your clit until your back was arching off the ground. It was the way Charles murmured soft praises as his hands reached out for yours, as he intertwined your fingers and softly squeezed as you came on his tongue once, twice until you felt like a pile of bones. 

It was the way he smiled down at you like his face wasn’t glistening with your release. The way he leaned down to kiss you with the taste of yourself still on his tongue. It was the way he was fully prepared to leave it there, let you rest, spend the rest of the night listening to the random rants he could coax out of you. 

Charles only let out a surprised noise when you pushed him onto his back, as you straddled him like you fantasised about earlier and reached between your bodies to squeeze his aching cock.

You knew Charles Leclerc was pretty, even in the days where you thought you despised the man. It was an undeniable fact that he was easy on the eyes, that he was gorgeous, that he had one of those faces that didn’t make him feel like he was a real human. 

But he was undoubtedly prettier when you were sinking down on his cock, walls squeezing him as his lips parted to let out a string of curse words in a handful of languages you didn’t speak. 

His hands were all over you, his lips never stopped moving  and all it took was a slight lapse in your tempo as you rocked back and forth for the boy to grip your hips, hold you up with ease and fuck up into you.

You were a puddle on his chest, his lips right beside your ear as he whispered filthy words to you. His hands and kisses were gentle when it felt like you could feel his cock in your throat from how deep inside he was. Charles Leclerc was a fucking enigma that you didn’t ever want to work out. 

And even after he did most of the work, even after he was breathless and flushed and fucked out, you were still the first thing on his mind. Your comfort, your pleasure, just you.

“Cherie,” he murmured softly, the accent seeming a little thicker as he spoke. “We should move to the bed.”

“No,” your words muffled as you nuzzled yourself further into his chest, content where you were with your legs tangled together and your naked bodies pressed together. “I’m comfy here. Beside you.”

“Okay,” was all he said in response as he pressed a lingering kiss to the crown of your head and pulled the blanket over the both of you before holding you closer—if that was even possible.

…

The first thing you noted when you woke up was how comfortable the ground felt beneath you.

The second thing was that you were no longer on the floor, but on a very comfy bed with a mattress that felt like it was a cloud.

Your hand blindly reached out to your side, expecting to feel a solid, warm body and probably a disgruntled curse from a certain Monegasque, but it never came. Your brows furrowed together, your hand continuing to pat the bed but it felt cold under your touch. 

For a short moment, you wondered if you had dreamt it all. You wondered if it was just a hyper-realistic dream where you swore you could still feel his touch on you, if it was all a part of your imagination. 

And then, from the other side of the door, you heard a voice. 

Your lips unknowingly tilted upwards as you sat up in bed, the sheet falling to your waist as you did. You stretched out your limbs, moving with no real rush as you grabbed the first piece of clothing you could find—a shirt of Charles’ that rested at your thighs—before making your way towards the door. 

You pushed the door open, expecting to find him lounging on the couch as he talked away to whoever he was on the phone with, but he wasn’t. You leaned your head out, peeking around to instead finding him on the balcony, the door still open to let his voice and a chilly breeze carry through into the suite.

You contemplated bracing the cold and making your way towards the balcony, to wrap your arms around his waist and settle into the warmth of him as he finished his call. Your hand moved to pull the door open wider, but then the muffled voice became actual words and you froze.

“She doesn’t mean anything to me. She never has. Why should I care now?”

You frowned a little. 

“I was doing her a favour, for no other reason.”

Your stomach churned, but you tried to ease your thoughts that were threatening to spiral.

“I’m not going to ever see her again after this trip, what’s the big deal anyways?”

But that? That was your final straw.

You felt sick to your stomach as you rushed around the room, staying as silent as you could as you redressed yourself. Your head felt like it was spinning, like you couldn’t even keep up with your own thoughts. You wanted to feel angry and spiteful, and maybe you did. 

But most of all, you just felt disappointed. 

In yourself. In the situation. In the man you thought Charles Leclerc was. 

You were fighting down the bile that felt like it was rising up your throat when you finally slipped out of his suite. He was still on the phone, still on the balcony when you left. And he probably wouldn’t even realise you were gone until you were safely back in your own room, where you could let everything hit you at once and let the tears threatening to spill finally fall. 

You didn’t want to believe it. You didn’t want to believe he was that kind of guy, another asshole that you had laid yourself out in front of, only for it to be thrown back in your face. You wanted to believe he was the gentleman you saw, touched and kissed last night. 

But the truth of the matter was that Charles Leclerc was just another name on your list of men who disappointed you, and you didn’t want to see his stupid, perfect face ever again.

…

Charles was absolutely fucking baffled. 

He felt like he was missing a key bit of information in his own life, and no matter how many times he replayed the last week or so in his head, he couldn’t work out what he was doing wrong. 

After a season of disappointing races and a team that played with his strategy like a fucking water balloon being thrown around by a group of toddlers, Charles wanted an escape. He wanted a place away from journalists and fans and everyone who even knew who he was. He just wanted a break from his own life.

The vacation at The Chalet was meant to just be that, but it became so much more.

For the first time in a long time, Charles felt like himself again. He felt happy. He was excited for the new year, he was excited for the future, he was excited for what possibly lay ahead of him. He felt like he was in some dream, but it wasn’t a dream. It was his reality and he woke up every day eager to know what amazing thing would happen to him—to know what amazing day he would have with you.

But that dream seemed to crumble into pieces when he realised you were ignoring him.

He didn’t try to take it too personally when he headed back into the bedroom that morning, his cheeks tinted pink from the cold weather but eager to spend a few lazy hours with you in between the sheets. He was eager to make you smile and maybe kiss you, maybe do something more.

But disappointment hit his chest when he saw the empty room. 

He just assured himself that you probably had to head back to your room before your family and friends woke up, or maybe you wanted to freshen up. He assured himself he would see you at breakfast and everything would be fine. 

But it wasn’t fine because you weren’t at breakfast. He waited in case you came at the end, but you didn’t. 

He waited for you at the usual spot in the foyer, but you never came.

He waited for you at lunch and dinner too, but you never came. 

The next day, he almost expected the same and was preparing himself to ask one of your friends if you were okay, but he was shocked to find you sitting in your usual place at breakfast. He smiled at you, something in his chest easing as he made a step in your direction, but the dirty glare you sent his way was enough to make him stop in his tracks. 

You didn’t turn up to the foyer that day either but between the dirty looks from you and the fact he was pretty sure Harper tried to trip him up at the coffee stand, he knew something was wrong. 

He just didn’t know what.

And every time he tried to get near you, tried to talk to you, it was a pathetically failed attempt that left that competitive streak inside his chest blaring with annoyance. 

You were ignoring him and he didn’t know why.

And then he saw it, three days after you started ignoring him. He was making his way into the dining hall, having just showered after a day in the slopes his friends dragged him out for, when he saw you and Evan by the buffet. 

Your eyes found his and something in his chest sparked. 

And then his eyes fell to the way your hand rested on Evan’s arm, the way you leaned into him as you laughed, the way Evan’s arm was thrown over your shoulder as you both walked back to your table. He watched as you both sat next to each other, so close your thighs were probably  pressed together under the table and something bitter settled in his stomach. 

He knew he had no real reason to be jealous. Especially between the fact that you yourself had assured him everything between you and Evan was platonic (if not familial) and the fact there was no real talk of anything being between you and himself other than a shitload of chemistry. 

But even logic didn’t stop the jealousy he felt.

His appetite was gone after that, as he turned around and headed back to his suite that felt a little bittersweet after the amazing night and shit morning he had with you. But he wasn’t in the mood to eat or pine for you from a distance. 

Charles was sick and tired of you ignoring him, and he was going to get to the bottom of it. 

And the first step in his plan had everything to do with the blond you were currently laughing and touching. He just needed to get Evan alone.

…

It was Christmas Eve when Charles’ plan finally reached its final step—to finally talk to you.

It felt like an odd sense of deja vu when you woke up that morning, making your way down for breakfast before you got ready for the slopes that day. You thought nothing off the weird looks Evan was giving you or the way he seemed giddier than usual, because truthfully it was no different to how Evan usually was on Christmas Eve. 

You put down his eagerness to head towards the slopes under the assumption he probably had some weird challenge for you and Harper at the top. You just hoped this one wouldn’t result in another sprained ankle. 

“I’m riding with you today, Stormy,” Evan said as the three of you headed towards the ski lift.

“Uh, get in line, loser,” Harper spoke up as she stood on the other side of you. “I called dibs.” 

Evan narrowed his eyes. “No, you didn’t.”

“Well, I did just now,” Harper retorted. 

“Does it really matter?” You questioned, amused as you glanced between the two of them.

“Yes!”

“No!” 

Harper and Evan turned to glare at each other, confusion from one of them and insistence from the other. However, you just laughed and shook your head. 

“Fine, first one to the lift wins!” 

You were already settled in the lift as you heard the two of them bickering to each other. You waited to see which one would win, to see who would settle in the spot next to you. However, what you failed to notice was the way Evan all but threw himself on top of his sister so she couldn’t reach the lift before someone else did. 

You turned, a smile on your face as you waited to greet the winning Montgomery, but instead you found yourself staring at a painfully familiar set of green eyes. 

And in an instant, your smile dropped at the sight of Charles Leclerc sitting next to you. 

But before you could even think about jumping off the lift and taking the next seat, the lift was already too high up for you to do anything about it. 

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he said to break the silence.

But you didn’t respond.

“Look, I know you don’t want to talk to me but at least hear me out,” Charles continued, a hint of desperation in his voice. “This is all a misunderstanding.” 

You kept your gaze facing forward.

“Evan told me what you thought happened that morning.”

And just like that, your head snapped around to stare at him, a mix of emotions going through you right now—though the biggest was possibly Evan’s betrayal. 

“You weren’t lying when you said he was a big fan,” he said with a nervous laugh. “It didn’t actually take much for him to tell me why you’ve been ignoring me.”

“You used my friend?” You questioned, the bitterness and coldness in your voice evident.

“I asked and he gave me information,” Charles corrected before his shoulders sagged a bit. “Look, don’t blame him. He heard what I had to say and—”

“And I don’t care what you have to say so go talk to Evan about it,” you spat back at him, watching the way he winced at your words.

“Cherie—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Stormy—”

“And definitely don’t call me that.”

“Please,” Charles pleaded as he looked at you with wide eyes, ones that held so many emotions you did not want to see. “That phone call was not what you think.” 

You looked away at the mention of the phone call, something quite like anger and disgust bubbling inside you at the mere reminder of the words you heard that morning. “Just…stop it, Charles. I don’t care, okay? You go about your life and I’ll go about mine.”

“No,” he stated simply.

You scoffed. “What? You need another girl in another city to have fawning over you? The hundreds of others not enough?”

“No, because I am not interested in my life not having you in it. I am not interested in a hundred other girls.” The words were stated like they were facts. “Stormy, I just want you.”

You scoffed again but a hand tugging yours made you look over at Charles, fully prepared to pull your hand away. 

“I wasn’t talking about you on the phone that morning,” Charles quickly blurted out before you had a chance to say anything. “Everything you heard on the phone that morning, it wasn’t about you.”

You blinked.

“It was about Melanie.”

Your brows furrowed together, a crease forming between them that Charles had the urge to smooth out with his thumb, but he resisted.

“What?”

“She—” Charles paused for a moment, like he was trying to gather the correct words. “She’s not my friend, not really.”

You blinked again. “She’s not? But she acts—”

“She acts like we are, yes. She’s a friend of a friend, and that’s about all there is to her. She’s…uh, how do you say? She seems to have gained a crush on me? Or maybe it’s some weird obsession. I’m not quite sure,” Charles admitted with a frown. “She asked me out once, almost a year ago and I declined. But she has latched onto the group ever since and I couldn’t quite shake her off.”

You didn’t say anything, instead letting him continue. 

“She wasn’t even meant to be on this trip,” Charles confessed. “But she said to our mutual friend that she was alone this Christmas and…I just couldn’t say no, right? But she’s spent the last year acting like I didn’t reject her and I didn’t like the idea of being trapped up here with her. But even with all our other friends, she was always beside me. She was always there. And when she started to throw tantrums to our friends and make up stories after I started spending time with you, I had enough.”

Your lips parted slightly in shock.

“Turns out she told all our friends that we were together,” Charles said with a grimace. “That we wanted to keep it a secret from the media, and that meant I wanted to keep it from everyone. She tried to make it out like I was a monster to our friends when I started spending days with you. Thankfully, none of them believed a word she said but…it was just too much.”

“Oh.”

“That’s why you heard me ranting on the phone about not seeing her after this trip because I have no plans to be around her ever again and I made that clear to my friends. You can even ask them if you don’t believe me,” Charles said as he finally let out a long breath. He looked at you, an almost pained expression on his face. “I would never say those things about you. Not when you might just be the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

Your cheeks burned. “Charles—”

“I know you feel it too,” he continued, and that desperate note to his voice returned. “I know you’ve felt it all week. I know you felt it that night. I know you feel like this—us—could be something.”

“I’m such an idiot,” you muttered, closing your eyes as you realised the agonsing and the pain and the ignoring over the last few days could have been avoided if you stayed in the bedroom a little longer that morning. Or if you had just spoken to him instead of letting the pettiness take over.

“You had no reason to think otherwise about me, cherie, and I get that,” Charles said as he squeezed your hand, almost like a tester to see if you would pull away or not. But you didn’t. “But I want to change that. I want to explore this. I want to show you that I would never do that to you. I want to give you reasons to trust me.”

“I would like that,” you murmured in a soft voice, but Charles heard you loud and clear as he grinned at you. 

“Yeah? You don’t hate me still?” He questioned.

You laughed, shaking your head as you did. “I don’t think I ever hated you, Charles.”

“Good, it makes this easier then,” he said before he leaned in, his slightly chapped lips pressed against yours—and something about it felt like coming home. 

You sunk into his embrace, your hand coming up to cup his cheek like you needed to believe he was really there (even if the gloves made it a little awkward). But feeling him smile against your lips was assurance enough. 

“Merry Christmas Eve, Charles.” 

“Merry Christmas Eve, Stormy. I hope it’s one of many with you.” 

And maybe Charles Leclerc became another one of the many reasons you loved The Chalet.

.

[artdnldsn]

thinking about art finally marrying his high school sweetheart, feeling like the happiest man alive. as he’s standing under the wedding arch, hearing you recite your vows, he’s completely out of it, his brain short-circuiting. he can hear your voice, but the words just don’t reach his mind. he’s gonna have to ask you to repeat them to him later because he understands you’ve poured your heart into them, but he just can’t bring himself to pay attention right now. not when his heart is thudding like mad against his ribcage, and you’re so beautiful, and his brain is having trouble registering that you’re really agreeing to be his for all eternity—

and then you go on your honeymoon, and he’s gone all out with it. he didn’t have much saved up, his career is only starting to pick up, but he’s made sure to book the nicest plane seats, the nicest hotel, the nicest spa treatments. he doesn’t want you to doubt your decision of marrying him even for a second. he wants you to understand that you’ve signed up for a life of just this—him treating you like something precious, like you’re the queen you’ve always been in his eyes ever since you offered to help him with his english homework back in 9th grade. he still doesn’t know, but it was just you trying to find an excuse to talk to him. but in his head, it was all the gods imaginable that pushed you towards him that day because you looked purely angelic in your awkward school uniform and that perm that you cringe inwardly remembering. but he loved it as he has always loved every single little thing about you.

he can’t believe how you’re still by his side as you both are getting older. you’ve become so hot he just can’t believe his luck. and he can’t believe it now of all times because wow, it’s truly happened. he’s going to grow old by your side, and there’s nothing in this world he’s ever wanted more. he always makes sure every single little part of your lives is documented, his phone out of his pocket at all times, just in case. because if he sees the sunlight catch beautifully in your hair, he wants to capture it, wants there to be some sort of physical proof of that moment. sometimes he really starts wondering if this all is just his fever dream and you’re going to disappear or some shit when he eventually wakes up because he can’t believe it’s real.

his photo roll is just a bunch of some random screenshots and you—you smiling on the beach, you petting a random dog, you laughing as you spilled your drink all over the table, you looking at him, all hearty-eyed, completely ignoring the phone being shoved into your face, your head propped up on your hand as you’re looking at him sitting on the opposite side of the table. he’s returning to this picture constantly, and it’s on his lock screen, and on your contact. because there is that glint in your eyes that makes him wonder for a second, maybe, just maybe, you feel all those things, too, and he’s not crazy to be so head-over-heels with you even after all those years you’ve already spent together.

and at night, he’s fucking you like he loves you—thoroughly, paying attention to every single hitch of your breath, drinking in every little sound pouring out of your mouth, his dick buried deep inside of you, his moves slow and deliberate, making sure you feel every inch as he’s making sure he feels every inch of you, too. his lips not leaving a single spot of your body unattended, because he’s already memorized every single mole, curve, and dip of your body. but with you, every single time feels like he’s rediscovering it all for the first time ever. he can’t wait to see how your body changes over the years. he can’t wait to see all the wrinkles that will appear on your beautiful face because it’s inevitable with you smiling so much all the time. and he already loves them all, even though they’re not even there yet. but he still can’t remember how to breathe sometimes when he catches a glimpse of his wedding band on his finger and understands that it’s all real. you’re real.

and when the receptionist calls you ‘mrs. donaldson’ when you’re checking out from the hotel, his heart flutters like the first time he saw you, a goofy, boyish smile touching his lips. he’s just giddy being yours.

[okwonyo]

⟡ CRAZY OVER YOU ── watching you perfom。

( 书架 ) PRECiS ˵ˊᯅˋ˵ ྀི 엔하이픈 ੭୧ f .. idol —r 8OO profanity kissing ！ fluff potential future / established relationship

ˊᗜˋreblogs&feebacks。CLICK

HEESEUNG ｡｡ would have been interested in you for a long while before seeing you performing in real life. as the persistent man he is, would have been waiting patiently for the day he could see you in real life.

would feel all giddy inside at the thought of seeing you performing alone, unable to contain his smile when he hears the start of your group’s song playing on stage. one of the members would whisper, “look, your crush is performing” and he would tell him to stop as he giggles.

adoration would shy in his iris while he watches you dancing; your facial expressions, your moves, your voice, would taste like honey to him. would get quickly addicted by the thought of talking to you very soon.

JAY ｡｡ before your performance, would reassure you. telling you how great you will do while holding both of your hands in it, would whisper sweet words to you, seeing stress leaving your body while he does.

would get so excited when he watches your group appear in front of his eyes, all ready to perform and confident. would even be the first to get up to cheer you up two seconds after the song starts.

his mind would be filled with thoughts about how cool his girlfriend is and how proud he can be of her— of you. would vibe to the song, a cute smile creeping on his lips.

JAKE ｡｡ as he would have never seen you before, wouldn’t really expect anyone in particular from your performance. not that he would wait for something bad— just a regular performance like he usually witnesses.

his heart would explode in his chest the second your, quoting from his own mind, beyond beautiful face appears on the screen. and with your sweet voice ringing in his ears, he would develop admiration for you instantly.

that feeling would quickly transform into a crush at the end of the stage, when you smile at the camera and giggle in the microphone. the urge to put to scream would weight in his chest as well as the urge to put his whole fist in his mouth to stop it.

SUNGHOON ｡｡ would try to keep his expressions to the minimum, although he would barely be able to stay still on his chair when the thought of seeing you dance running through his mind alone.

his gaze would be so devoted to you that all the facial expressions that appear on your face would all appear on his as well. his plan about being discreet would fade in the air.

the first thing he would do when he sees you face to face again would be kissing you and whispering: “everything you do is amazing” against your soft lips.

SUNOO ｡｡ would be the biggest fan of your music since the very first time he heard one of your group’s song. and from that moment, would want to be friends with you — which would happen, then would grow to something more.

would react to your performance so well; eyes widened, mouth agape, clapping, putting his hand over his mouth. all this in the spawn of merely five minutes. when you appear on the big screen, he would giggle and get suddenly flustered.

“she is wonderful, right?” he would ask the member next to him, in such an endearing tone that could melt anyone who is listening to it.

JUNGWON ｡｡ would bump his head along the music, mouthing the lyrics as he watches the performance with all his affection offered to you.

whenever the camera focuses on you, on your face or you whole body, he wouldn’t be able to do anything but raise his eyebrows while thinking ‘god-she-is-beautiful’ — especially when you wink or send a kiss.

would visibly bite down a smile, but it wouldn’t really work. his cute dimples showings off as he contemplates his girl performing beautifully.

RIKI ｡｡ would be kept awake the night before, caused by the idea of one of his biggest dream becoming reality; seeing his biggest crush perform in real life.

a smirk would toy on his lips when he would watch you perform. amongst all your group’s members, he would only see you, with stars in his pretty eyes. his heart pulse would get ridiculously higher whereupon you show your beautiful smile.

one of his hyungs would even poke his side discreetly everytime your visuals appears on the immense screen, teasing about his crush — and he would get so, so shy.

ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open！

(..◜ᴗ◝..) this is a revamp .. sort of ? i already posted something like this a while back huhu >< i hope you enjoyed this one and thank u for reading 😚😚💕💕

[harmoonix]

👑Iconic Astrology Notes

✮_✮_✮_✮_✮✮_✮_✮✮_✮_✮✮_✮

12th house placements are very intuitive and spiritual, if Sun and Moon are in the 12th house they can feel when someone lies to them. Also some natives with 12th house placements are connected to the spirit realm and can recieve dreams from the Spirits

Mercury/Venus in the 10th house can be highly artistic people, tend to like the music and arts a lot, find inspiration in art, nature, music, and love.

Venus - Asc aspects; Are very gracious and gentle people, you are pretty and you should know that, they can also find love in everything and everyone around them, is giving this Disney princess vibe (The sleeping beauty + Beauty and the Beast vibe) . You can also have a very good style in fashion and to dress how you want no matter what others say, you shine 💋

Uranus - Asc aspects: Omg these people have something unique in their appearance that make people to be very interested in them and to like them, might be the eyes, the hands,the face, your voice etc... There is something unique in you

Pluto in late degrees (between 20° - 29° degrees) makes the native to be in search for power, for better understanding of their power, for their authority. They are powerful but need to find this power within themselves 🙏🏼

Jupiter - Venus aspects: You are charming and known for that, people can often tell you that you're pretty or that you dress nice. They like to be SPOILED, and to feel that they are loved for real. These aspects can be like: "I'm more things than being pretty but you only look at someone's outside" .

Mars - Sun/Moon aspects: Can have anger issues/getting mad easily, they are not always aggresive but can be exploding when something doesn't work in their life. Usually they have really good body structure and sharp pretty face

Descendant Degrees are the same degrees as your ascendant 💕

Descendant at 5°, 17°, 29° degrees or Leo in the 7th house tend to attract narcissist partners take care please 😭, when they tell you that they "like" you...Babe they "like" how you make them feel...

Descendant at 8°, 20° degrees or Scorpio in the 7th house tend to attract very misterious partners, usually their partners can be very private about their lives but might also be very jealous and possesive

Descendant at 4°, 16° 28° degrees or Cancer in the 7th house tend to attract partners who are very " home - life" oriented, they can have this desire for a good family life, also you're lucky af because your partner can become extremely attached be you 🥹💕

Venus/Moon in the 8th house/Libra/Taurus in the 8th house: They are loving very deep and can become extremely attached to their partners, sometimes they can have posesive traits because of their deep feelings. Those people really need to find partners who can love them for who they are!! Also they are very affectionate!!💕💕

Harsh aspected Moon (Moon having a lot of squares and oppositions from other planets), When moon is harshly aspected can make the native to struggle emotionally and to have it difficult to express/exprim their emotions. It can be difficult to open yourself to other people and to trust others. (Moon in Scorpio/8th house can deal with trust issues). Since the Moon represent the mother it can also means having mommy issues and hard to connect with your mom (emotionally)

Air Placements in the big 3 (Sun, Moon or Rising) have a thing for dancing and music, is literally their thing. They can be obsessed with music and dancing..These people having concerts at 3 am in their room...🫰🏼😭

Aries/Scorpio and Sagittarius Placements especially if you have Venus in these signs can get horny so fast and sometimes is so random 😭 is their thing, also that thing with "Inexplicable getting horny randomly" . They also get freaky and crazy most times without a reason aswell 🤣

Men with heavy earth/fire placements in their chart give big 🍆 energy...hands down, their personality is very bossy and dominant + daddy vibes. Also very attractive + sexy natives

Mercury and Pluto aspects are the definition of "Sharp tongue" they have this very attractive voice but the thing about them is that..these natives can be prone to cuss and talking dirty most of times. They can end you with their words in a fight/argument

Chiron and Moon/Venus aspects can get very hard over a breakup (friends/lovers break-ups) these natives love to make memories and when such thing happens they have it hard to get over it :(. It can also be hard because these natives attach so fast to people and they can be also very sensitive. They hold a lot of healing with their emotions and feelings and don't you dare ever to hurt a person like this because they are the sweetest people alive. Periodt

18+ Lilith and True Lilith [h13] in aspects to Pluto/Mars literally have this vibe of "Come and f*** me" 😭. They are very sensual and they love pleasure there is no reason to lie here hands down they are horny 24/7

18+ Lilith and True Lilith [h13] in aspects to Jupiter and Saturn can be very intense and kinky, Jupiter amplifies their sexual energy and Saturn comes and makes them attracted to serious and dominant partners

Lilith/True Lilith in the 6th/10th/12th houses are very similar and i will tell you why besties... They attract people from their work both of them. Because they can be very appealing and both have a good appealing body who can make a lot of into them.

Lilith/True Lilith in the 5th/7th/8th houses are those type of who really love to have a fun time in bed because they can he kinky af 😭 praying for your beds because the only imagine i have in my head is that Twilight scene where Edward breaks the bed with Bella😭😭😭😭

Venus - Pluto aspects want to have that deep and safe love and to feel loved for once because usually these people went through very much relating to relationships and their partners or ex partners could be very toxic. They are very powerful and intuitive when it comes to their partners lying on them or hiding something from them

Pluto in the 1st/10th/11th houses can attract people who pretend to be their friends or "nice" people to them but be careful because most times they will betray or backstab you and talk behind your back. Take care with those who pretend to be your friends

Earth Placements in big 3 (Sun, Moon, Rising) can struggle with anxiety and stress most of the times. They are very gentle and gracious natives and always ready to help those who need but who is there to help them when they also need someone?...These people can be extremely sacrificing

People with Virgo Placements and People with Saturn in the 6th/12th houses are getting tired so fast..they are not lazy or something, rather just they overthink and work very much and at the end of the day they can be very tired. Also problems with sleep can happen and let's say these natives deserve to have a good sleep 💤

Good day for you queens and kings 🌹👑, a new day a new post 🫰🏼🌸. This post has more dark vibes than my light aesthetic posts but i like it so much! Hope you all are doing good and are happy together with the people you love!🌺 I wish you many many many blessings and good coming for you!

Never ever forget how special you are, you are unique, inspiring, creative, brave and beautiful. You are the art of life 🌺🌠

- Harmoonix 💋

[erwinsvow]

rafe looks even cuter when he's asleep.

you don't know how the thought has never crossed your mind up until now—it's so alarmingly obvious to you right now. you stare—a bit stalkerish, even for you—but that doesn't deter you at all. you watch his chest rise and fall with each breath, the way he's completely crazy, sleeping firm on his back with one arm on your waist and the other tucked behind his head.

maybe rafe seems even cuter just because he's escaping all the stress of his real life right now—firmly asleep with hopefully nothing but nice dreams about you. and as much as you try to avoid it, you are the primary cause of all of rafe's stress. he worries about you from dawn to dusk, even when you try to convince him there's nothing to be worried about.

it's become something of a habit for him—taking care of you, making sure you're okay, even when he's not around. and you—well, you've gotten quite reliant on it. on him. you're not positive—but you think rafe likes it.

even now, on the verge of waking him up because you can't sleep, you hope he doesn't get mad. it doesn't stop you though.

"rafe," you whisper, pushing his arm softly, and then a little harder. "rafe. rafe."

he groans, eyes still shut. the third push has him blinking, staring up at the ceiling and getting his bearings.

"what time is it?" he slurs, clearly still half-asleep. "still dark, kid, go back to bed-"

"i can't sleep," you say a little too quickly, your restlessness presenting itself quite clearly. "please. i don't know why. i'm scared."

rafe closes his eyes, but then opens again, no matter how hard it is to stay awake right now. he sits up a little, propping his back against his headboard. when he turns to look at you, he doesn't feel so tired anymore.

you look really awake, like you haven't had an ounce of rest since the two of you went to bed hours ago. fiddling with the straps of your nightgown, you look up at him the way you always do—like rafe can solve any one of your problems in a minute.

and he likes it. rafe doesn't even try and hide it anymore—he loves it and loves that about you.

"what're you scared of, huh?" he asks, voice still thick with sleep. you breath in and out, trying to figure out how to explain.

"i dunno. i just am."

"okay," rafe says quietly. he closes his eyes for a few moments and then opens again. your lips curl into a pout automatically—you feel bad for waking him up. "how can i help?"

"i don't know that either. i just want to feel close to you."

"m'right here, kid-" rafe extends an arm around you, bringing you into his chest. you curl up against him like you always do, breathing in the scent of his skin and the warmth from where his hand rubs your back. but it's still not enough.

"i want to be even closer," you murmur, feeling a little more tired but not nearly enough to actually fall asleep.

"how d'you suppose i do that, hm?" you look up at your boyfriend—cuter still with his eyes closed like this.

"can't you just.." feeling surprisingly bold—probably from how wired yet exhausted you currently are—you sneak a hand over rafe's pajama shots, pressing your hand down until-

"jesus, kid. gimme some warning, huh-"

"what? you said you're 'never too tired for that', remember?"

"well, i lied. c'mon baby, just go to bed, i'll fuck you first thing in the morning."

"hmpf," you scoff, turning around and taking much of rafe's comforter with you. you don't have to see rafe to know what's going on—he's rolling his eyes and sitting up, probably has his head in his hands for a moment.

"jesus, kid. you're gonna kill me. c'mere," rafe says, turning you back around to face him with just one hand. your body flops next to him, staring up at rafe, seeing what he'll do next.

"we don't have to do it," you finally say, watching rafe move around in the sheets for a few moments. "can't you just... put it inside?"

"sure i can. c'mon," he says, and you climb onto rafe's lap as swiftly as you can. it doesn't take much—he slides up your nightie with one hand and pulls down his shorts with the other. you feel rafe prodding at your tight hole when he grabs at your tits, letting the skirt of your sleepwear fall back down.

"you just said-" rafe cuts you off.

"still gotta wake him up, remember?" you roll your eyes but they end up rolling all the way back. rafe slides in quickly—you almost fall onto his chest at the feeling.

incredibly full, realizing this is exactly what you needed, you let yourself curl back up against him. rafe's saying something quietly to you, one of his hands firm on your ass and the other on your back, but you can't even hear him.

"thank you rafey," you murmur, interrupting him without even realizing. "this is what i needed." rafe presses a kiss to your hair and you fall asleep before you even hear him whisper back.

[sirfrogsworth]

Meeting my longtime artist and good friend, Chris, IN REAL LIFE!

So, I hadn't been to a restaurant in over a decade. I can't even remember which restaurant since it was so long ago. But in the past few weeks I've now been to TWO restaurants.

I am becoming a social butterfly. 

And it is exhausting.

But also good.

First I reconnected with my high school best friend, John.

And that went great.

But then the opportunity to see my friend Chris (a.k.a @whosthewhatnow ) came up only a few days later. And this close proximity of social events scared me a bit, but I have been feeling much better since they figured out my heart thing, so I decided to try and do both things even though they were only a few days apart. 

The key to this was strategic resting. As soon as I got home from seeing John, I got in bed and I didn't get out of it until it was time to see Chris. And that was just enough recovery time to pull this off. Typically a short outing requires 2-3 days of rest after. 

I had never met Chris in real life. He has done nearly all of the artwork for my website and comics over the past decade. And he was a main character in my CRAPPRnauts series.

We know each other so well and it is crazy that we've never seen each other with our very own eyeballs.

He is such an amazing artist. He works fast and he adds so many cool extra details that you can stare at his comic panels multiple times and catch a new joke or easter egg each time. He is a dream to work with and my Corg Life series was only successful because he did such a wonderful job bringing Otis to life in comic form. 

So we decided to meet up at a restaurant with his friend Michael and then I was going to take a nice portrait of him after dinner. Chris had never had a professional photo taken of himself and I decided to fix that.

I told him I had a mobile photography setup. Which, in reality, is a trunk full of lights and stands and other various camera gear that I definitely won't need, but bring anyway. It's "mobile" in that it all fits in my car if you are good at Tetris (which I am).

The restaurant was downtown and I had visions of St. Louis's famous Gateway Arch in the background of Chris's portrait. I thought that would be such a cool shot. I could see it in my head and I even dreamed about it.

So I got in my car and headed downtown and my GPS told me to exit at 249B. But I kept looking and I couldn't see the sign for 249B.

This is how much road I had left when I finally was able to see the exit for 249B.

So I ended up taking 249A and going straight to East St. Louis.

Which, if you believe the headlines, is not a place you ever want to be.

Google Maps and I have been having issues lately. They also tried to get me to take the spooky way home that night, but thankfully I actually knew the non-spooky way back from when I used to go to Cardinal games with my parents as a kid.

My short term memory was trashed by shock therapy. And so was a lot of my long term memory. But it finally came through in a pinch and remembered something useful.

I only had to loop around and cross a bridge so I didn't really do anything but touch the edge of East St. Louis. I was mostly concerned about being late for dinner more than its scary reputation. Usually those news stories about a place being "dangerous" are actually just racist and hurtful to people stuck in poverty. I mean, technically my house is in a "dangerous" neighborhood, and we do have trouble with petty crime in some spots, but aside from a few dinged-up mailboxes, I've never felt unsafe in my home.

On the way back to regular St. Louis I could see the Arch on the horizon at sunset and it was kind of magical. And I wasn't able to get a good shot of it, but it sure looked pretty from my point of view. 

My photos kind of remind me of the beginning of movies like Training Day where they are trying to show you gritty, dutch angle shots of the city out of the car window to give you a sense of the location.

As I approached the restaurant I invented a new genre I call "stoplight photography." The sky was orange and the streets of St. Louis were just asking to be photographed. But I wasn't willing to die to get neat photos, so I just took them at every red light.

The big trick was trying to edit the dark area at the top of my windshield out of the photos to make it look like I didn't take these pictures from my car.

After a 15 minute detour through Illinois I arrived at my destination—a Mexican place called Rosalita's. It had a beautiful sign, so I took that literal sign as a metaphorical sign it was a nice place to get a quesadilla. 

Dinner was great. Both signs were right and their quesadilla was very tasty. Chris and I both got one, so we are quesadilla twins. The waitress was one of those "I can remember your order without writing anything down" types. And I am one of those, "I get anxiety when things aren't written down" types. And, to her credit, she did not forget our orders. But she did forget to give us silverware and napkins. So I still feel like my anxiety was valid. 

We told sad stories of the pups we lost. But we also had a lot of fun and laughed and I got to meet Michael who turned out to be an absolute mensch. I sometimes have trouble meeting new people with my social anxiety, but he was very affable and made me feel comfortable with his presence almost right away. He was a fan of Otis and mentioned he still has a Super Otis shirt. I always get choked up hearing that Otis is still loved. Hopefully we get to meet again. 

Dinner ended and it was picture time.

I asked Chris if he wanted the high effort photo or the low effort photo. Either we figure out how to get to the Arch or we find a spot near the restaurant and just take his portrait there. Chris and Michael had a driver because they were coming from a big conference and getting to the Arch would have been complicated. So we decided to go with the low effort option. 

I found a cool shop nearby that had an LED wall that changed to all sorts of different colors. And I thought that would make a neat background and give a colorful edge light on Chris's face. I pulled my car near that spot and started unloading my trunk full of photo gear.

I think Chris and Michael were a little overwhelmed when I started pulling camera gear out of my trunk like a clown pulling an endless handkerchief out of his mouth. But as far as photo setups go, it was actually pretty minimal. 

Light, giant battery, light stand, umbrella, tripod, camera, rolling walker with seat.

My dad's old rollator came in clutch because I wanted to shoot from a low angle and it is hard for me to bend down. In fact, I think I'm going to look into getting an all terrain version so I can do more outdoor photoshoots.

I started shooting in the middle of a downtown sidewalk. And I was super anxious. I could not focus (my brain, not my camera). I was very distracted with all of the people walking by and staring. I was not sure if any of the photos were turning out. I wasn't even sure if they were in focus (my camera, not my brain) because I had not yet had my lens calibrated. But down the street there was a guy with an old school boombox playing random music. His music helped to drown out the ambient noise and gave me some comfort.

I had no clue if the photos were any good, but when I got home and checked them on my computer, I realized I have 12 years of experience and muscle memory built up. I probably should have just trusted myself because the photos all turned out great.

I think Chris can now officially say he has had a professional portrait taken of himself.

This photo has been officially loved by Chris's girlfriend and mother.

There is no greater seal of approval and I am honored.

I was able to comp in any of the colors the wall displayed from other shots in case Chris is feeling a little more green in the future.

A literal rainbow of options.

I also liked this one, though it is a little more "environmental portrait" than regular portrait.

And I got some nice photos of our little group to help us remember the night. 

And I got a bunch of photos of Chris making silly faces like Calvin at his school photoshoot. 

I love this woman's reaction to our little impromptu sidewalk photo shenanigans.

After we said our goodbyes and I gave my friend a hug, I was a little bummed I didn't get to photograph him at the Arch like I had dreamed.

But then I realized I had my own car and it was capable of taking me places. (I actually haven't gotten used to that after not driving for nearly 15 years.)

So I decided to drive a few blocks over to Kiener Plaza—a park with a view of the Arch. 

TO BE CONTINUED...

[shouldprobablybereading]

AITA for taking an overseas position without consulting my wife?

Throwaway in case my wife sees it.

I (51m) was recently offered the job of my dreams, it came out of nowhere but fits with everything that I have worked towards for the last 30 years. Really the opportunity of a lifetime and will allow me to actually make a difference. However I would be required to move out of the country very far away, with limited ability to travel back and forth. At first I was ecstatic and said yes pretty much immediately, but when I was speaking with my colleague on zoom he kept telling me that I was getting in over my head. And then my recruiter seemed to think it was weird how quickly I agreed.

My wife (47f) and I have been fighting a lot more lately. She keeps complaining that I am not involving her enough in my life and gets annoyed when I spend time with my friends. I’m starting to get the feeling she resents me for never becoming as successful of an engineer as she wanted to. Which is ridiculous since the truth is that she simply never had what it took, and I don’t think it’s fair for her to be angry at me. She also gets angry with me when I tell her this, for some reason. If I tell her about the job offer I am sure she will go crazy.

Thing is, if I don’t take this position I know they are going to ask my brother (47m) instead which I am certain would be a disaster. He is really successful in our field, but he is reckless and throws himself into things head first. With a skull thick enough that I would not be surprised if he could survive a rockslide. It feels like I have been babysitting him since we were children and I am scared of what he would do without my direct supervision. If they put him in charge I am sure it would burn to the ground. His wife died a while ago and he did not take it well, so he and his boys (13m & 17m) have been staying with us for a while to sort things out. Which is actually a reason why I am not as comfortable leaving, you see I am not comfortable with how much time my wife and he are spending together. They were friends before me and my wife met, it was how we were introduced, and while they never dated I am also not an idiot. You do not keep friends of the opposite gender and bring them to parties without there being some interest. I am afraid that if I leave they might start something.

My children (28f) and (21m) are both adults, so they are no real reason for holding me here. I have paid for both of their college educations as well as my son’s wedding last year. So clearly I have done everything that is expected of me. I would have done the same for my daughter, but she seems hellbent on getting her PhD and seems to get upset whenever I suggest that she should try to settle down. Which is actually really annoying because if I am actually leaving then I need her to have a husband who I can leave the family company to, as my son is the only person I know who is potentially more of a loser than my brother.

I don’t think I have done anything wrong, but my coworkers do not seem to agree. So am I the asshole? I just want to make a difference and be away from all of this mediocrity.

[luselih]

Hii im not sure if you write about him but could you write a fic with fem reader and leonardo from blue lock where she loses her virginity to him and could you make him an ass man if you can theres so little writing of him? Thank you so much if you do❤️❤️

heartless || leonardo luna

summary/ask: Your new boyfriend take your virginity, it couldn’t end badly, right?

content warnings | smut so minors don’t interact!, age gap (he’s 27, reader is around 20), virgin reader, chubby reader (hinted/written in mind for!), he is a major asshole, a bit (probably lot) dubious/non consensual in a lot of parts so that a warning, innocence kink?, mentions of jerking off, breast play, pussy inspection 😢, fingering, without protection, missionary and cowgirl assisted (he’s dom), filthy and mean, he is NOT gentle 😬, creamie, clit play, overstimulation, angst on end! (spoiler-he leaves you) + more…

a/n - #1 i kinda tried a different method of writing but it ended up being almost as same as oliver’s one 😭

Leonadro Luna. Name that a lot fans of football world know, a handsome player from Spain who is playing for Real Madrid is very valuable for that club. You yourself can’t even wrap your mind around the fact that he is indeed your boyfriend of 2 months. Basically every single woman wants him in their bedsheets every night but they don’t have that privilege like you do. I mean you don’t really even use it yourself because you couldn’t bring yourself to lose it. Your virginity.

Leonardo Luna knew that you were virgin the moment he laid his eyes upon you that day at his football match. When his team won against FC Barcha for 4th time that season but fans cheered for them like lunatics, he could see you with your friends cheering for him, wearing a jersey with his name and number on it at shinny stadium and since it was hotter than a devil’s lava bath you tie your jersey on your stomach so it obviously becomes visible to everyone, but he caught it as his club celebrated and started leaving field to shower and to continue to celebrate all night long.

When he passed around tribune and entrance for the interview line he saw you and that shy and excited smile on your lips as you and friend stood there waiting for him to speak to you maybe, you two just wanted autographs from him on your world cup cards of him you pulled out after countless tries to get him.

You thought that your biggest dream was being archived, he really did came to you two and greeted as he take a marker he said thank you for as he autographed your cards.

“I didn’t know that i got two pretty girls like you two as fans and i can’t say that i am mad at it. A little autograph would make you happy? Such nice and humble girls i see in front of me…”

You sweared that your knees almost gave up on you as he flirted with you two, as he was writing his name on your card, security guards came to take you away since he was running late for his interview, as your friend passed with her card to exit, you felt something you didn’t expected. His arm on your shoulder. He gave you a flirtatious smile and whispered to you.

“I like your style quite well, so i guess a little date wouldn’t hurt too much, would it? Here this is my number, text me when you get time”

You sweared that your cheeks got warm as he slipped a tiny paper with his number on it in your pocket and had to let you go. You just got…??? Your first ever date??? and with LEONARDO LUNA??? THE Leonardo Luna? You sweared you almost become crazy as everything settled down in your mind as you got to your place.

Since then, every text, call and date was almost too good to be true. He can be a real gentleman with you, take you out and make you feel like only girl in the entire world. Every praise and complaint got you to fall for him even more and more everyday. If only you knew what is behind those beautiful green eyes and perfect smile.

Poor you, if you only knew how many times he jerked himself off at the thought of your body, he could feel every single twitch of your body at first. Gosh he almost got addicted to your innocence, your inexperience was…almost too much for him. He swerved he got a biggest bonner when you hesitantly said you don’t have that experience yet, you want to lose it with him. He got a grip on himself as he praised you for being true to yourself and himself, while letting you know that he is here for you whenever you feel like you are feeling ready for it.

That day has finally arrived.

As usual for the last month, every weekend you were watching a movie with him at your place. His arm wrapped around your shoulders as his other held tv remote as you two watched anything that was interesting for both of you. You slowly started to think it was time to do it. Empty house, lights lidded and moment was perfect. So you take a deep breath and turned your head to your boyfriend and bring your face closer to his face, giving him a couple soft experimental kisses on his cheek and jaw, his arm slide from your shoulder to your waist as he softly chuckled and whispered as you feel a singular kiss on neck.

“getting touchy all of sudden, hmm…?”

“i just wanted to say that…i think i am ready for…y’know what...”

You really thought that it was going like it should be going on, talk about it, conformation and giving consent, going slowly as you guys make love all night long with a lot of kissing and comforting words being said to each other as your bodies melt together. Oh my my-how wrong you really was you just realized.

After not even a second, your body was forced into submission as you yelped at the sudden movement, his hands holding your hands on your sides as you looked up at him shocked.

“Well finally i can get some of it, don’t make it latter like you didn’t want this too pretty thing”

You sweared that you didn’t wanted everything that happened after that moment, but gosh it made your body feel heavenly. Every mean and harsh thing he did to you was overwhelming to your inexperienced pussy.

The way he practically smacked your lips together in kiss as his hand put your arms over your head as other went underneath your shirt on your boob and give it firm squeeze, you moaned into his lips as it caught you off guard.

Even if you wanted to say anything, his lips chased yours like it’s a need, flipping your shirt up and revealing your pretty bra that he pulled down harshly, your pretty breast and soft nipples to cold air of a room making them instantly harden. After pulling out kiss that left you hazy and breathless his mouth immediately went after those perky little things. His tongue immediately licked it over slightly, your body jerked in response of new sensation. His mouth sucked deliriously on your nipple as other played with other, pulling and pinching your nipple between his fingers. After your boobs were covered in pretty bite marks he finally pulled his face and admired his artwork, your body already twitching from stimulation, so close to climax.

His hand immediately slipped between your legs and toyed with your clit over your pants with his thumb, you immediately starting to grind against his hand, trying your chase that finish that was so fucking close. With no surprise when your body twitched so deliciously, back arching as you got to climax, your breath rigged and your eyes teary.

“Is baby already feeling tired, well to bad~”

He pulled his clothes off, his broad shoulders and 6 pack shining in dim light as his sweatpants showed off brand of his high branded underwear, slowly pulling down your pants off your hips as he only left you in your panties, your mouth suddenly getting dry as you can’t even say a well formulated sentence, your arms not even daring to move from above your head clinging into fabric of the couch like a life line.

His long fingers passed from middle of your chest to side of your panties, tip of fingers hooking into a thin material and pulling it to the side, revealing the prettiest scene he saw since lord knows when. Your tight cunny glistening with your own cum as you hole twitched, crying for dick like it’s a need, gosh he wants to ruin you for any other man ever. His finger, gently yet firmly stared moving over her staring from your tiny bud of clitoris, teasing it lightly and drink in your whiny reactions then spreading your inner and outer lips of vagina as he looks at your hole inspecting your private part barely any centimeters away from it, it is so humiliating you can barely keep your eyes open.

After confirming your claim he slipped his ring finger into your awaiting hole suddenly, making you yelp at the stretch and uncomfortable feeling, he didn’t waited a second, putting a hand over your mouth and adding another finger it, exploring and memorizing your insides like a map to a secret treasure. Tears brimming again on your eyes as you climaxed again on his 4 fingers on end, pulling out his hand he smiled so sweetly at the visible stretch between your legs. “At least you won’t cry like past girl” he thought quickly.

Pulling his pants off he slide his underwear off and his 7 inch long cook dripped with pre cum, light hair barely visible as he pulled your legs to the side of his body and leaned down closer to your face as he lined it with your entrance, making you automatically letting out a chocked gasp as you knew and hold onto his shoulders as he bullied his head into a tightest hole he was ever been in, your cries of a stretch almost completely ignored as he just kissed your bottom lip as he continued. Pink cook head aligning with your cervix very quickly but he continued anyway till his heavy balls slapped against your ass checks and you practically feel him in your throat.

His thrust hard, fast and mean after he let you get comfortable for barely a minute before he rammed into your pussy like a mad man. His body pressing your into a couch as your shared kisses and skin slapping against each other filled the room quickly. You holding into his shoulders for any support and sanity in that moment as you let him shape your insides to his likings.

From the pit inside your stomach you felt that you are so close to climax again, your toes curling as you creamed around his dick while he continued to fuck you senseless. Every push you tried to make because of overstimulation was unsuccessful to say the least. He didn’t even pull out when he felt he was getting close, he just pulled you by your forearm up and flipped you two. Your boobs bouncing as his hands keep your pace, his hands harshly pulling your ass checks apart as he bullied his dick so deep within you that you almost pass out from everything.

With final snap of your hips he stuffed your hole full, his white cum escaping as he pulled out and watched in satisfaction as it poured on a fabric of your couch so quickly and sexy. Settling you back on a couch your lifeless body was a mush, your eyes barely open as you were about to pass out any moment. He kissed your cheek slightly as he looked at you and your poor body for the last time before he went to shower in your bathroom and left you.

Next day you were greeted by his profiles and numbers not being available to you and your trust towards love now broken, you really though it can’t get any worse, you did?

well…let’s see what that pink stick with 2 bold red lines have to say about it now ;)

[mirai-e-jump]

TV Life, 12/27/2024 Issue ft. Chinen Hidekazu & Hayama Yuki (translations below)

Publication: December 11, 2024

GavvPare! Vol.8 (Chinen Hidekazu)

-I was worried about the scene where he confronts his older brother and sister-

I confront Siita and Jiip in episodes 13 and 14. For Shouma, they're his older brother and sister, and although they abused him, they lived together in the same place, so I think he feels differently about them compared to how he's been fighting the Granutes and Agents so far. He has to take them down, but he's abit hesitant in taking action. With these complex feelings, I was worried about how to convey his feelings during the confrontation scene. However, the Director told me, "If Shouma doesn't stop them, the people of the world will lose. Stop them as if they're two violent criminals, don't think of them as his brother and sister." Even though Shouma's conflicted, he's determined to carry out his basic desire to "protect people," so I think I was able to show a different side of him than usual. We're enemies during the performance, but Hono-chan who plays Siita and Ruito-kun who plays Jiip, are similar in age to me and are good friends in our private lives. We also have a relationship where we can say what we want to say to each other, can compete with each other, and the three of us even set goals for the next year and promised to "make them happen together." Now that we've overcome the difficult scenes, I'm truly happy that Hono-chan and Ruito-kun are Siita and Jiip.

It's alittle early to say this, but looking back on this year, it's been a really crazy one. Around December of last year, I was saying to those around me, "I feel like something big is gonna happen next year." I never thought it'd be this production, but I'm really happy that I'm actually playing the lead role in Kamen Rider Gavv like this, and that I'm able to spend my days making my dream a reality. I'll never forget what I learned this year, and I hope to make even more progress in the next one!

Q: What's something that fills you with energy when you eat it?

A: Okinawan senbei. It has a taste that brings back memories of eating them during my childhood, but there are very few places in Tokyo that sell them. My mother in Okinawa often sends them to me. They're so delicious that I can't stop eating them once I start, so I try to restrain myself from eating them before filming so that I don't become bloated (laughs). I'd love it if everyone gave them a try!

Off Shot: During the last scene in episode 14, Hanto rushes to Shouma's side after his deadly battle with Jiip and Siita. Hanto helps Shouma up by lending him his shoulder, and the two of us imitate how to carry off an "injured person." On a tokusatsu set, the actors often discuss with the Directors how they'd react together during such unusual situations! That was alittle peek into the behind the scenes. _

BakuDAYS Vol.20 (Hayama Yuki)

-If I could express Ishiro's individuality-

In episode 37, I was assigned to perform two different types of action scenes. I had a scene with Taiya and a scene with Sutea, a colleague from his spy days, and we practiced the action about a week before the shoot. When the screen splits, there's a line where both Ishiro and Taiya say to each other, "I believe in him," but the real line in the script was, "I believe".* However, Haruhi consulted with me, saying, "I think "I believe in him" would be better since it sounds abit more like they have no doubts." I understood what he was saying and also revised my line. I also played the role of the fake Ishiro in episode 37, but I had trouble separating the two roles. I consulted with the Director in advance and was told that there was no need for me to force out two different characters, so I played the role while being conscious of facing everyone in Boonboomger with a cold expression and avoiding eye contact. Ishiro's strong point is analyzing, as he can anticipate what's going to happen in the coming future. So, as I play the role of Ishiro, I try to anticipate things that aren't written in the script, and ask the staff in advance about things that might happen in the future. By doing this, I hope to express Ishiro's individuality. Other things, for example, include his posture when standing, his vibes when speaking, and the pauses in his speech. I feel that it's been a very valuable experience being able to create Ishiro's character like this over the past year. (*it's the same meaning, but the first is casual while the latter is formal)

From now on, the internal circumstances regarding the Hashiriyan organization will become clear. If you pay attention to the actions of each and every character, I think you'll be surprised and amused!

Q: What's something the "Informant" wants to research?

A: I started working on my body once I started performing action in Boonboomger. I've been going to the gym for a couple months now, and I spend my free time researching the anatomy of the body, efficient ways to work out, and foods that are good for attaining the ideal shape (laughs).

BakuageSHOT: Thanks to the efforts of the production team, they made sure that I wouldn't get scars from the handcuffs, and I was able to film without any injuries. This filming session made me once again realize how much support I get from those around me!

[blessyatoz]

longfic (+55k words and on posting) tags: pro-hero izuku midoriya, manager au, falling in love, humor read all on AO3 excerpt from chapter six: how to (try to) do a photoshoot and attend to a hero-con [excerpt w fluff, bit angst, humor; no smut]

MARIN'S POV

The event was nearing its end when we left the special screening of an All Might documentary.

Midoriya-kun, obviously, couldn’t stop talking when there—his eyes practically glowing with excitement and admiration as everything coming out of his mouth was about his mentor. At one point during the session, I asked how they met in the first place. Midoriya-kun spoke so fast, but what I got was that it had something to do with him jumping in front of a villain to save his friend Kacchan (who’s Dynamight?!), All Might taking him under his wing as a disciple, and his late-blooming quirk awakening.

Damn, Midoriya-kun had a crazy teenagehood, no doubt about that.

Someone told us to shut up—so we focused on the documentary and picked up the conversation again after the session ended.

He told me how hard it was—and I didn’t doubt it for a second. Broken bones. Always having to give his best—because everyone was already ahead of him, given how late his quirk had developed. Always having to do more because if he didn’t, it wouldn’t be enough to become the hero he wanted to be. A hero who saved everyone, no matter what, always with a smile; 

“Kitagawa-san, I want to be a hero strong enough that no one would have to worry about me.” as he said at that moment too (That stuck with me. Stuck—Why?). A hero who honored his mentor’s legacy.

As he spoke, I couldn’t help but think about the enormous sense of responsibility he had with all of it: becoming the hero he always dreamed of, fighting to protect people…

Slowly, the outlines for my article started to take shape in my mind. One that wouldn’t just honor All Might’s legacy but would do justice to Deku’s. His own. As Deku.

That’s what I wanted to do—what I wanted people to know. I wanted people to experience how genuine, hardworking, sincere, and real Pro-Hero Deku was.

“Oh! And All Might was also my teacher, back at UA. He was an amazing mentor! He really was! He really took care of me—even when I didn’t deserve it. I learned a lot from him—and from Aizawa-sensei, too.” Midoriya-kun chuckled softly. He seemed to recall those days fondly. “I… I miss him. All Might. It’s been a while since we last saw each other. But we still text all the time!” He stared off into the distance, like he was reflecting for a moment before turning back to me and saying: “I… I hope I can one day be at least 1% of the hero he used to be… I—I already have my own hero path! And I’m following it, o-of course! I’m really happy with that.” He looked ahead, almost nostalgically watching a bunch of kids running around in All Might costumes, holding special trading cards in their hands. I followed his gaze. “But… to inspire people the way he did, inspire them to be the best they can be, overcoming whatever life throws at them… To always go beyond, no matter what…”

Purpose. Determination. That’s what I felt while looking at him now.

“That’s the kind of hero I’m working to be, too.”

The smile of that little girl from early came to my mind—and the gratitude shining on everyone’s faces when they saw him, whether he was stopping a villain or helping out with the simplest task possible. Even the regretful tears of today’s wrongdoers, who seemed like they’d rather die than commit another crime after hearing Deku-kun's words.

The look of admiration from that child who so kindly asked him to sign their school notebook.

“You’re already doing that. A great job. More than that, even.” I spoke softly, kindly—but not as kind as he was. That was impossible for me. I’d known that for a long time. So many smiles, so many admiring looks of ‘I want to be like you’ came to mind, all directed at him. At them. “You know that, right?”

I waited for him to blush, like he usually would. Then I’d laugh and say, ah, Deku-kun, for God’s sake, you need to get used to compliments, man!

But the blush never came.

Deku’s expression seemed to drop—and he became a little distant.

Not shy, not embarrassed—like usual. Just… distant.

“Not enough, though, Kitagawa-san.”

I frowned.

But before I could say anything, one of the kids dressed up and running wildly around Hero-Con bumped into us.

“Oh, sorry, oni-san!” Then he grabbed the hand of the kid next to him, dragging him towards a group of people gathering nearby. “Come on, Tsuki! Let’s go get a Hawks hero tattoo, hurry before they’re gone!”

“I don’t want one of that stupid parrot!” The other one looked surprisingly disgusted. “I want one of All Might! And Red Riot, 'cause he’s so manly!”

“Whatever, dude! Let’s go!”

Midoriya-kun and I watched them run off like two little rockets.

“Oh… Hero tattoo stickers… I always wanted to get one of those when I was a kid…” I heard him say softly, like he was talking to himself. A bit nostalgic, even. He blinked, realizing I was still there. “Kacchan never wanted to get one with me, though, when we were kids. Said it was stupid and useless—since they come off with water. Something about it being for dumb kids—which was funny, thinking about it now. We were kids.” He laughed.

I glanced over at the booth: kids, adults, and teens crowded around it. Some were cheering, others celebrating when they saw the tiny less-than-8cm disposable tattoo fixed on their skin. They were grinning from ear to ear. They looked happy.

I grabbed his hand energetically—I could feel the roughness of his scars, the lines they made against my fingers, the history and effort they carried.

Then I smiled.

“So, what are we waiting for?!” Practically shouting with excitement, practically shouting please, smile like that again Deku-kun, I said: “Let’s go!”

“W-w-what?!”

I was already dragging us over.

“W-wait, Kitagawa-san! W-WAIT!”

Fifteen minutes later, I had a small tattoo of Fat Gum's face hidden on the side of my wrist. Midoriya-kun had one of All Might—comically flexing his muscles.

He stared at the tattoo, a bit goofy, a bit embarrassed, and a bit incredulous.

But he looked happy.

“I can’t believe we did this…!”

“Well, believe it! BELIEVE IT!” I threw my arms up in the air and flexed my muscles. I puffed out my chest—and then struck the same pose All Might was making on his tattoo. Making that face. “YOU DID IT, MIDORIYA-SHONEN! IT WAS YOUR BRAVERY, HOHO.” Then I laughed, all proud, just like All Might would. “It’s never too late to fulfill your childhood wishes, shonen.” I winked.

Midoriya-kun burst into laughter. The kind of loud, genuine laugh that’s just contagious, you know? The kind that makes you want to laugh just from being there, listening to it. His hands held his stomach, tears of laughter streaming from his eyes.

I dropped the All Might pose, grinning widely at him.

Not enough, though, Kitagawa-san.

What makes you think that? That’s what I wanted to ask him as I watched him laugh and laugh, smiling and laughing in that sincere, genuine way he always did. The way he showed it to everyone. What makes you think that, Midoriya-kun?

That’s when I realized: maybe… maybe Midoriya-kun carried more on his shoulders than he let on, more than I had imagined—must be a hero thing… like him. Like them.

Because they carried the same too. They carried the same, and I was too young to understand that back then.

But I’m not a kid anymore.

I can fight to keep others safe now, in my own way. Smiling.

And I don’t need to be a Pro-Hero to do that.

“How long did you practice that, Kitagawa-san?!”

“A month, I think?” I was about to say it was for an All Might cosplay shoot I did a few years ago, but I stayed quiet.

Midoriya-kun’s eyes practically bulged out of his head like they were gonna fall to the floor.

“Whaaaaat?! It took me years!” He sounded half-surprised, half-impressed, and half-indignant. “That’s not fair!”

“I’m a natural, pretty~” I flipped my hair, all smug. “Get over it.”

Midoriya-kun gave me the biggest side-eye in the universe.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that!” He shook his head and started walking toward the exit. I thought I saw a flash of a shy smile on his lips—and that familiar blush again. Huh? “Midoriya-kun? Midoriya-kuuuuun!”

He suddenly stopped in the middle of the path, his head lowered slightly.

“Thank you, Kitagawa-san.” His voice was soft, embarrassed—but sweet, gentle. And when he looked me in the eye, that’s exactly what I saw, too.

I broke into a smile.

“It was nothing, Midoriya-kun! Really!” I winked cheerfully at him, bouncing up to stand in front of him. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

He paused for a second.

And then there it was: that smile again.

“Yeah, it is!” And that laugh, too. “You’re right. It really is.”

“But I’m also your manager, so strike a pose so I can snap a picture of you with that super cool and not-at-all childish tattoo right in the center, please.”

“O-okay.”

“And let’s take a selfie too! Showing off our hero tattoos together! They won’t last long anyway~ We gotta capture the moment!”

[maudie-duan]

A/N: Hey guys! Happy weekend! Thought I would drop Part ll. Really loving this Mini Series so far. Hope you enjoy! Thanks for following along so far! Also, please listen to the song! Its vital to the whole fic!

Tag List: @sassamanda77

Requests-> Here

Part One<-

Word Count: 8.9k

Warnings: 18+, Language, Smut, Talks of Possible Sex Trauma, Eating Disorder, Body Dysmorphia, Teen Angst, Emotions. (If I miss anything, let me know.)

The universe is either cruel or working in mysterious ways. In ways, I don’t think I’ll ever understand because how is this happening right now? Me crawling through Harry Styles’s window?

The one I’ve liked, maybe even loved, since middle school. 

Okay, yes, using the word “love” feels dramatic, but I don’t know how to explain it, and maybe saying you’ve “loved someone since middle school” is weird because it’s obvious he’s never felt the same way—Trust me, he has proved it time and time again. 

I’ve never been the girl he picks. I’ve always been the background character in his world, and there was a time when even the smallest morsels fed the desperation always booming within, that pull that never went away. 

He wasn’t always this distant figure, a harsh memory of the past when he was a possible aspect of my life. Before everything changed, when maybe his eyes lingered a little longer. When he would look at me, like he did tonight on the roof, when no one was looking, a shared smile, a knowing look, tiny moments I lived for when I was young when I made him the center of my universe—and that’s the thing about being young, right? Everything is so much bigger; we create these scenarios in our heads, and the more we speak them into existence, the more real they become—that was Harry for me.

I liked him so much—so much that it hurt, and I know this sounds crazy, but I swear he liked me too, maybe not to the degree that I had taken it to, but I saw it; it was this gut-deep feeling, like the one I’m feeling now—undeniable—every sign was there. 

A feeling I’ve known like the back of my hand. It’s that same feeling that still pings in my chest whenever Harry looks my way, thinking maybe I might be a passing thought in his mind. That elusive feeling I’ve learned to suppress, bury like he’s nothing, and currently, it’s as potent as his hands on my waist. Steadying me as I find my footing, now I’m through the window, staring up at him with the same desperation I felt a million times before, standing here with every opportunity I would have died for.

The chance to call him mine, even for a moment, I could have him just tonight, and that would be enough, right?

And he’s gazing at me with those green eyes I’ve dreamed about often, and something about it hurts, like why now? Why has he never seen me? What’s changed because I’m still the same person as then—maybe the outside has changed, but I’m still me at my core, and she was never enough for him—so why now when he could have had me all along? 

So many thoughts and feelings are churning through my mind, and I want to ask him. I want to know, but would he tell me? Why does it feel so easy, so comfortable, effortless to be here in his presence, like old friends reuniting, like we haven’t missed a beat, like there hasn’t been an ocean of tides drifting between us for the last five years?

But haven’t I learned by now that the universe doesn’t always play fair? Like somehow I ended up with his ex-best friend, and the kicker is that aside from Harry, he’s the hottest guy in school, and was that a reward from the universe, a clap on the back, “you’ve worked hard all summer,” now your skinny and people see you, the real you.

This is what I’ve been telling myself for the last two years. That you have Trent, the guy that everyone wants, the guy that gets to wear you like the arm candy you’ve become because you’re pretty now, you know, the guy that I should feel so lucky to have because every day girls are lining up to be with him, so smile, don’t eat too much, you still need to fit into those low rise jeans he forced you into buying even though they suck for girls with any kind of hips and ass. 

And how many things have I changed and will continue to change to keep him? To say that I have him because that’s enough, right? I’m enough? 

I’ve become perfectly manicured to fit next to him, and it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t like my curly hair; I straighten it anyway because he thinks I look sexy with straight hair, and Trent delicately encouraging me to wear more makeup isn’t so bad, especially when I nail a smoky eye or the perfect cat wing, and he calls me hot. Pinching at all the parts of my body that make me insecure, then he gives me that look, lifting my shirt because my jeans are too small, cutting into my flesh, but what he doesn’t realize is that I’m in between sizes because the others are too big now—and I’m fucking starving—and there goes dinner because I can’t bear the look of disappointment across his beautiful face. 

It doesn’t hurt that bad anymore because nobody gets him like I do. Nobody gets the parts of him when our bodies are pressed as one, and he whispers, “I love you,” pushing in and out of me too hard, and that part doesn’t hurt as much anymore because that’s when I get to shine. I get to put on a show, do all the things that I know he likes, and dammit, I’m so fucking good at it, and he tells me every time, and when he thrusts into me again, and I tell him, “I love it” I praise him, stroking his ego just enough that he’ll say I love you again—and I do love him because this is what love is, right?

So, of course, I’ll change because I don’t dare push him, or he’ll pull away, leaving me spinning out, questioning everything, and if I think about it all too hard. I’ll realize that I’m the joke, that I’m a fucking fool. That I’m pathetic, that I know I’m worthy of more—and here is Harry staring down at me, his touch so sweet and delicate, the way his thumb is stroking my cheek, and it doesn’t feel real. 

All of this feels like some kind of fever dream, one I’ve dreamed a hundred times over, and I don’t know how to tell him that I might be too high for this.

But it feels so good, and I want him. I want him more than I’ve wanted anything before, and when he kisses me, the warmth of his mouth is all I can feel. It’s the only thing pushing the thoughts away, numbing my whole body because he is all I can see, the vibrations of his movements thrumming through my body, his touch stealing my breath, and I’m weak for it, and I think he wants the same thing. 

Then he breaks the kiss and smiles, the whites of his eyes red, his eyes never looking more green than they do now, and all I can do is smile because I haven’t felt this happy in a long time.

“Let’s listen to your Wilco CD, yeah?” he asks lowly, the rasp of his voice filling my chest.

“Yeah…” I breathe through the haze of his kiss. Every movement he makes is making me dizzy, and when he moves away, I grab the CD. 

Harry clicks the lamp on next to his bed, glancing over to ask if I can flip the switch by his bedroom door, and when the room goes dim, reality floods in, the same question tormenting me: Is this really happening? and here I am doing my best to tamper it down, but suddenly, I’m that girl in Junior High again, fearing the worst because I’m putting all my hope into this one boy, and I know that’s not real, but I’m scared all the same.

There’s undoubtedly a noticeable change, a buzzing in the air, and I have no clue what I’m doing here. I feel like a robot, mechanically moving, playing out a script in my head, all the while the knot of nerves growing in the pit of my stomach is keeping me on edge. I wonder if he’s nervous, too, and when I look over at him. He’s stretched out on his bed, legs hanging over the side, and he looks so peaceful and calm as the lamp’s soft glow illuminates his skin. 

 I’m trying with all my might to embody that feeling as I change the CDs in the player, and I know my best move is to be the girl I am for Trent. That’s what got me here, right? He must have noticed me and liked what he saw—and I can be her with my eyes closed, embody “her” any time of the day, play out the motions because I am her. 

So when I crawl onto his bed and sit facing him, cross-legged, casually, like I’ve done this before, with him, I know I’ve got this, “You’re in for a treat—” I began, and he smiles, eyes closed.

“You’re going to love this album…” 

A lazy laugh pushes through his parted lips, and he barely opens his eyes. “Mmm…” he hums. I thought you meant a different kind of treat…” Then his eyes are open, more alert, and I gaze down, watching him draw an invisible line down my thigh with the tip of his finger. Reeling over his touch that seems to vibrate through my entire body as heat creeps up my cheeks. 

My heart is pounding in my chest, and I bite down on my lower lip, trying to keep my face neutral, to play it cool and collected. “It could be both…” I admit because it’s true—This is what we’re doing. I would be a fool to think it wasn’t leading to this. 

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, taking it between his teeth. “Yeah?” he asks, a smirk forming at the corner of his mouth. That knot in the pit of my stomach inching deeper, the sensation spreading, pulling between my legs, vying at his energy.

“Yeah,” I say softly, eyes darting to his hand now running down his chest, a slow drag, stopping at the hem of his shirt. It’s like a thirst I never knew how to quench, and my mouth goes dry with one glance at the button on his jeans, and I swallow hard, losing the words at the tip of my tongue. Without thought, I’m climbing on top of him. My mouth dives to his as fast as his hands were on my face, both needy, desperate for what this was becoming outside.

Our teeth gnashed together, warranting a shared groan, but it only made me want him more to find that same rhythm we shared on the roof when he pressed himself between my legs—now I’m pushing myself into him again, aching for that same friction.

And he’s like a whirlwind, with no lead-up, a messy haze of confusion, my body only responding to his touch. He slid his hand up my shirt, groping me through the thin lace of my bra, and the warmth of his hand filled my chest. I found myself holding my breath, afraid to react, my nipple growing hard under his touch, then he gently pinches the hardened tip, and I gasp in a breath of air, a shudder of pleasure rushing through my body.

I pressed into him then, a raspy groan leaving his mouth, and I knew I had him, that I could do this.

When he breaks the kiss and tugs at the hem of my shirt, whispering, “Off—” a smirk streaks his face, and I press a finger into one of the dimples dipping into his cheek. 

“You take your shirt off…” I laugh, and the thought makes my head spin, a thrill of everything good happening all at once because the way he’s looking at me has my heart thudding against my rib cage, and my brain can’t decipher the difference between joy and fear; and maybe right now they’re the same thing. 

He thrusts his hips, making me bounce in his lap, and I wrap my arms around his neck, landing with a light bump against the hard bulge in his jeans. He bites down on his lower lip again, hugging his arms around my body, playfully pushing himself into me, and he buries his face between my breasts, nestling a moan into my chest. 

And fuck he’s so sexy, and I’m so turned on. It’s been so long—so long since I’ve felt this way, and when he tightens his arms around my body, he peeks up, all playfulness gone, and he says, “I want you so bad…” 

That was enough. That was all I needed; That was all I’ve ever wanted from Harry, those words, and that feeling is back, masquerading as courage, and when he lifts us off the bed, my thighs tighten around his waist, legs wrapping around him, not worried that I’m too heavy, or that he’ll drop me because the insecurities aren’t there.

He shifts me further up his body, hooking his hands under my ass, and I reach for the hem of my shirt, lifting it over my head and tossing it to the ground. A hazy smile spreads across his face as he takes me in—The first layer is gone. 

When his eyes flit to mine, I wrap my arms around his neck as he slowly releases me, pressing my body to his until my feet hit the ground, his gaze never leaving mine. 

I can feel myself succumbing to him, the muscles in my cheeks stiff from holding the constant smile he brings me. This time, he pokes his finger into my dimple, and I bite at his finger as he pulls away, making him laugh. Then, he brings the pad of his thump up to trace the curve of my lower lip.

When he dips his thumb into my mouth, I comply without delay, lapping the tip with my tongue, then sucking him in, the suction building as he pulls away, his eyes roaming my face. I watch the pupils in his eyes dilate, then contract, like the onset of hunger, and he pushes his wet thumb into his mouth, tasting me, wrapping his heart-shaped lips around his finger, slowly opening his mouth to drag his thumb down his tongue.

And I think I’ll fucking lose it. My hands are already on Harry’s shirt, gripping the fabric, needy as he does the work for me, when he grabs his shirt and yanks it over his head.

My quick hands reach for the top of his jeans, tugging on the button until it pops open. Then our hands become greedy, moving to undress one another like it’s a race, like there’s no time left. 

He pulls at the snap of my bra, releasing it open like he’s done this a million times, coming off effortlessly, another article of clothing gathering at our feet. Then he leans down, sucking my nipple into his mouth, hard and fast, but it’s welcoming, and I run my hands through his hair, moaning, my body jumping with the sharp sound of the suction sounding over the soft music.

He moves his mouth back to mine, pushing a sloppy kiss to my mouth. It jolts us both when our teeth knock, gnashing together again, and both sigh, the overwhelming sensation ricocheting through our bodies, and it sets us back a few paces. Harry pulls away then, laughing, holding my face between his hands. “Sorry,” he whispers, a shy smile forming, then his eyes fall to my lips, readying to kiss me again. 

He tilts my chin up, and when he leans in to kiss me again, trying to keep the same pace as before, our teeth clash. This time, we both laugh, pulling back, and he speaks up, “Maybe we should slow things down a bit?” He suggests, tracing over my lips, bringing with it awareness.

I didn’t realize I was out of breath until I felt the rise and fall of his chest pressed to mine, my boob smashing into his body, so hot, the heat creeping up my spine, knocking the air from my lungs, and this is real.

This is as real as it gets, I think, as Harry stands shirtless before me. My grip loosens around his neck, creating a sliver of space between us. 

My body sticks to the sheen of sweat already coating his torso. When did it get this hot? So hot that I could barely breathe?

Harry is looking down at me, so seriously, still holding my face in his strong hands, hands that will touch me in places I’ve only imagined, and he’s different. Different from anything I’ve ever envisioned before, and when he slowly lowers down to his knees, eyes traveling down my body, I have to fight the urge to cover myself, to not let him see the things I’m most insecure about, the flaws that I couldn’t hide even if I tried.

My arms hang limp around his neck, gazing down as he presses his lips into the flesh of my skin, each kiss as delicate as the one before, moving across my belly, inching toward my hip, softly biting into my skin. Harry draws a weighted breath through his nose, and I lick my lip as his eyes flick to mine; and he smiles, sinking his teeth in just enough to bring out a laugh, then he pushes his lips into my side, pressing hard until I feel the kiss deep in my bone, and I rake a hand through his hair.

Harry nudges his face into my stomach, slightly angling his head upward to gaze at me. Something about the gesture is so sweet, and I find myself cradling his head in my arms, staring down into his eyes, watching his head rise and fall with every breath I take. Then he closes his eyes, hugging his arms around my lower body, and embraces me. 

His head skims up my body until his cheek is flush with my bare breast, and his grip around me tightens. I arch around him then, walling him in as my hair cascades around him, and I kiss the top of his head, breathing him in like this is the first and last time.

Eventually, I close my eyes as the lyrics of the song fill the room, Wilco’s—You Are My Face, blaring. I swear these lyrics have never hit harder than they did in that very moment, and when I swallow, testing my voice for words, I can’t speak past the deep burn building at the back of my throat. 

My grip grows stronger, his embrace deepening, and I wonder if it’s like this with every girl, if this kindness is an act because I’m already aching with it. Dreading the moment, I have to let him go because he is so fucking nice and believable, and then I kiss him again and again until I feel his hold on me loosen.

Harry grabs hold of my hips, softly pulling away, and even though I don’t want to, I let go, letting my hands fall to his shoulders. He pushes one last kiss into the center of my chest, then looks up and clears his throat, “This song is really good,” he confesses, the rasp of his voice deep like waking from a tranquil state. 

“Yeah…” I barely manage because he’s studying my face, and I’m doing my best to keep it cool. Trying not to fall apart because something tells me that he wouldn’t mind, but I don’t want to be that girl; this isn’t how I want him to remember me because this is nothing more than what it is, and I can’t let myself fall into that old pattern of thinking—when I made him more than he was; when he was so high above me that I couldn’t see the double-edged sword he twisted, setting our fate until now.

“Marlowe?” he whispers, “We don’t have to do this…”

I nod my head, contemplating his words. I didn’t expect this part, yet here we are, “What do you want?” I ask because I don’t want to start second-guessing myself.

He lets out a light laugh, grinning, and he doesn’t even have to say it, but I want him to, “I think you know what I want…” He tells me as heat rises to my face, and I match his smile.

“Yeah…” I agree, but it isn’t enough; he wants more because he isn’t moving, just smiling at me, teasing me with that knowing gaze.

“Is that a yes, then?” He questions, mouth drawing close to the bud of my nipple, rock hard, basically calling for him to suck it between his perfect lips. 

“Mmmm…” I hum, too consumed by the look on his face and his hot breath near my skin. I nod my head; yes, but that’s still not enough. 

He blows a cooled breath across my skin, sending chills down my spine, and I blurt, “Yes—yes…okay—okay—” Then he starts to his feet, kissing my cheek gently.

“Good—that’s what I needed…” he tells me. 

“Is it silly to admit that I just want to listen to that song over and over until it’s burned into my memory?” he asks, so casually, moving to the bed, like I’m not just standing here with my tits hanging out. 

Harry starts adjusting the bed, pulling the comforter back, peeling the top sheet with it, and I’m impressed with his adequately made bed. “The first time I heard it. I played it like five times,” I tell him, glancing down at my chest, and I wrap my arms around my body, unsure how to function like this with him as I move in and out of delayed pockets of reality. 

“Would you be opposed to us playing it on repeat?” he questions, tossing the question over his shoulder.

I smile because I like this side of him, trying to sort through fact and fictional traits that I’ve imagined about him; this wasn’t one of them, “I’m down—” I answer, walking over to the CD Player. 

Harry must see me searching the buttons because in no time, he was behind me, pressing his bare chest against my back, a hand grazing down my side while reaching with the other, engulfing my body with his, resting his chin on my shoulder.

“The settings are tricky,” he says, pushing a few buttons. I mumble, “Mmm…” holding my breath, suddenly nervous to move. He caresses my tummy for a few seconds, then tugs at the button of my jeans, yanking them open, leaving me dumbfounded. 

The move is so smooth as he unzips my zipper, and I draw a silent breath through my nose, trying my hardest to stay relaxed under his touch. His lips press into my neck as the lyrics of the song flood the space, and I push my ass into the bulge of his jeans. Then Harry grasps hold of my hips, pulling me into him, driving home the idea of his rock-hard dick, and I feel him. 

The last time I felt this nervous, I was telling my sister that I had lost my virginity. I thought she would have been more mad about the act; it turns out she was more pissed that I gave it up to Trent so easily. At the time, I didn’t understand. My virginity didn’t mean anything, but as corny as it sounds, I wish this would have been this moment or that the moment could have been like this. 

Exactly this: Harry’s gentle hands on my hips guided me to his bed; nothing rushed, nothing forced. No words of convincing, no pressure to play out “the duty of a girlfriend,” and when Harry sits me on the bed, I genuinely take him in. Eyes roaming over the plains of his muscular body, thinking soccer is the perfect sport because he’s so fucking fit. 

And when did he get all of these tattoos? I had heard about a few, but I didn’t realize how into them he was, and it’s so fucking hot. When I reach for the waist of his jeans, I catch sight of the line of words marked across his lower abdomen and laugh, eyes flicking to his.

“Really?” I ask because I feel like tattooing the words “Might As Well” should be a little douchy, but there’s honestly something sexy about it and honest, especially if we’ve already made it this far.

“Is it working?” He jokes, a cocky grin on his face, and I laugh as a rush of nerves fills my belly, my clit pulsing, making it real. My mind getting hit with tiny doses of reality that settle in every time I allow a thought to slip through the haze. I feel higher than before, doubled down, between Harry and the music, it’s like I’m sinking into another realm where only Harry and I exist, and I’m looking up at him as his smile fades into curiosity, lost. I think he’s asking me a question, but then I go blank, overwhelmed by it all. 

“I still feel really high…” he states like he’s stealing the thought right from my brain.

I smile, trying to fight the seize of nerves. I want to keep control, but my body is going numb, “Yeah, me too,” I agree, and without thought, I start shimming Harry’s jeans down as the bridge of the song cascades into my mind:

I have no idea how this happens 

All of my maps have been overthrown

Happenstance has changed my plans

So many times, my heart has been outgrown

The melody of the music takes over as Harry kicks his jeans off, then leans forward to lay me back onto the bed, and helps me wiggle out of my jeans, easing them off when they get caught on my ankle. 

In seconds, they’re on the ground, and just as easily as the rest of our clothes came off, his boxers follow. 

I watch him slide them down his legs, bending with the movement, and when he leans back up, his hard dick springs up, finally free, and I try not to react because he’s watching me. I crawl back onto the bed, my knees knocking together, and I don’t know if I’ve ever been this turned on or wanted someone inside me this badly in my life. 

In all the times I had imagined Harry, it had never felt like a palpable thing, something I could reach out and touch, and as I watched him climb onto the bed, his dick swinging; hard for me, I could not believe this was happening. I want to enjoy this. I want to savor every second because this would be the first and the last time. We could never do this again; everything about this was so wrong.

But when he grabbed my face and kissed me, it felt right, everything felt so fucking right. I could feel myself opening up for him, my legs spreading of their own accord, his body pressing to mine as he lays me back onto his pillows, and this is happening, really happening— then the song starts over at the top, and I know I can never listen to this song again without thinking of him. 

When Harry breaks the kiss, he leans back onto his heels, taking me in as I lay there on full display, and when he smiles, I know Harry is pleased with what he sees, “God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he coos, and fuck he has me. He’s had me for so long; I’m his, and I want to be his. Then he reaches for my panties, starting to work them off, and I lift my hips, feeling the fabric roll as he lifts my legs, kissing my ankle when he tosses them over the side of the bed.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” He confesses, lowering my legs, and I draw them together, knees bent, and he plants a kiss on each knee as I adjust the pillows under my head, and I’m wondering why the hell he would say that to me—wanted what for so long? me? or this?

“Me too,” I answer, half embarrassed because obviously he knows this about me, or he wouldn’t be playing into it—and I don’t want to do this, overthink everything about this. I want to be here with him. I’m allowed to do this, right? It doesn’t have to be more than exactly what this is—sex.

Yet, my knees are locked together, and when he tries to ease them apart, he laughs, thinking that I’m teasing him, so I play it off, forcing my body to comply, and I let them lower, slowly spreading my legs until Harry sees what he wants. The look alone shifts something in my brain, the song playing it’s calming outro, lulls my body into a peaceful state, a trick of the mind. 

Because as soon as Harry climbs on top of me, everything in my body and mind is so overwhelmed, overwhelmed that this is real, that the second he slides a finger up the slit of my vagina, I’m his. 

His grunt says enough, a husky exhale pushed against my lips, his finger gliding effortlessly. I’m so fucking wet for him, “Fuck—Marlowe…” he breathes, pressing a light kiss to my temple, and when he moves his mouth to my ear, he says:

“I don’t think I’m going to last long,” and his breathy laugh fills the shell of my ear, and I smile up at him when his face moves over mine. When we lock eyes, I see that hungry look, the one like before, and I clench my thighs together, trying to keep his hand there. 

I close my eyes, replaying that sensation over and over in my head until I’m lost with it, lost in the kisses he’s peppering along my jaw, down my neck, a light nibble on the tip of my ear, and I’m squeezing his hand so fucking hard, my thighs like an iron grip.

“If you want more, you’ll have to spread those legs for me,” He whispers into my ear.

“Fuck—” I breathe, “I’m so fucking turned on right now…” and I close my eyes again, finding it hard to keep them open.

He pushes a soft laugh into the crook of my neck, and I release his hand, letting him take over, giving my body over to him, letting him shift my legs however he sees fit. Then he’s moving his face away from mine, the pillow dipping above my head, and he rests his arm above me, hoovering over my body.

This time it’s two fingers spreading my lips open, and he grazes over my clit, making my who body react with just a single touch, and I squeeze my eyes shut more, focusing on the way he’s moving, slow and controlled, getting me ready, “Like honey,” he tells me, pulling away.

And I open my eyes then, feeling needy for more, just as Harry pushes his wet fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean. I grab hold of his wrist before he can go back for more and lean up, shoving his fingers deep into my mouth until they hit the back of my throat, and I gag a little, letting my saliva pull down his fingers until they’re glistening, watching the need on his face grow, when I push them back in, sucking them in, licking them clean, cleaning up the mess I’ve made of them.

There is nothing else I need because I have to have him now, inside me, filling me up like I know he will, and I’m no longer concerned about putting on a show, “I want you now—” I force out, falling back onto my elbows, spreading my legs for him and he pushes himself up onto his knees, taking me in; me taking him in. 

A standstill as I watch the moth tattoo at the center of his torso rise and fall, each breath chiseling the contour of his abs, another layer of sexy that I can’t wrap my brain around, that I know I’ll fucking dwell on, another lingering memory I know I’ll fucking chew to bits, forever desperate for one more look.

And I’m not thinking about anything else but my legs dropping, the look on his face, the way he’s licking his lips, tugging his hand up and down his hard cock, then he releases it as it drops, heavy, dangling between his legs, and he leans down, his hand coming down to the pillow next to my head, holding himself up with one arm, his muscles flexing, and I grab hold of his arm, preparing as my whole body seizes for impact.

Harry presses a kiss to my lips as he lines himself up, and I adjust my hips moving accordingly, gasping when he strokes the head of his penis down the slick lips of my pussy, and I’m holding my breath, staring up at him, concentration streaking his features as he gazes down between our bodies.

My head is racing, my grip tightening on his arm as the lead-up to the bridge of songs builds, Harry lining up with my entrance, and I’m closing my eyes, wondering how the fuck we got to this part. Then he’s pushing into me, stretching me like I knew he would, my legs involuntarily closing, and I can feel myself clenching around him, barely in, and I need air, and all I can say is, “Slow—Slow—Slow—” as my eyes fly open, the pain stealing my breath, but I want it.

He stops mid-movement, a tender smile on his lips. “We can go as slow as you’d like…I promise,” he reassures me.

Each breath I take is shallow, barely enough to fill my lungs; his eyes are on me as he continues to push inside me, a sharp twinge of pain pushing against my walls, “You have to breathe, Marlowe,” he gently instructs, but my nerves say otherwise. 

“Maybe—once you’re in…we can, like—pause?” I ask, inhaling a sharp breath— and it’s like ripping a bandaid off because he pushes all the way in as a pained moan of “Ahhh—ouch—” muffles into his neck, and I wrap my arms around him, a tight hold, and I’m freaking out because I’ve had plenty of sex, but this hurts so fucking bad, and I can’t relax, even though everything in me wants to.

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry,” he breathes into my ear, “I figured it would be worse if we waited any longer,” 

“Jesus—You’re so fucking tight right now—” He forces, voice gravelly, his heavy breaths coming one after the other as he pushes the heat of his breath into my neck.

“Yeah…” I huff, trying to catch my own breath.

He lifts his head then, “Are you okay?” He asks, gradually pressing his body flush to mine, his dick pushing deeper, and I bit down on my lower lip, squeezing my eyes shut, then finally there’s no movement, just the dull ache, Harry stretching and filling me up, in a way that Trent has never come close to. 

“Sorry—” I apologize at a loss for words, and I swallow hard, searching his face for disappointment, but it’s nowhere to be found—just kindness and a sympathetic frown.

He kisses my cheek then, “There’s nothing to apologize for…” he assures me, planting a kiss closer to my mouth, “You’re perfect…” he says, pressing the words to my lips.

“Are you like this with every girl you sleep with?” I ask, curious, because each of his answers is too good, too “perfect,” and I would rather know the truth, but would it make a difference? He’s already inside me, getting what he wants, what we both want.

And before he answers, I catch his mouth with my lips, deepening the kiss, driving my mouth against his, until he forgets the questions, until his tongue teases my upper lip, testing the waters, and the song is starting over, setting the pace and I open my mouth slightly, letting him in. As we get lost in the kiss, the tension of pain ebbs into a fading reminder as pleasure slowly inches through my body, my muscles relaxing. Then I move my hips just the slightest bit, feeling brave, and he doesn’t move, letting me ease into it.

Another round of the outro plays out as my hips begin to move against him. Our breaths pick up as a rhythm forms, soft moans flowing in and out of one another mouths until I’m lifting my hips to meet his, his dick becoming slick between my legs, each stroke less careful, and when my body falls back to the bed, he drives a hand into my hip bone, pinning me to the bed, then pulls away from the kiss.

And when he locks eyes with me, he plunges into me deeper, a sharp dose of pain and pleasure, and I yell out, “Fuck—” Then he’s pulling out a little more this time, propping my hips up when he slides his forearm under me, finding the perfect angle and pushes into me again, thrusting in and out of me at a pace, I’ve never experienced before, and holy fuck it’s so good because I’m losing myself, my hips moving with his, keeping up with his thriving satisfaction.

As Harry’s arm inches across my lower back, he groans into my ear, sinking deeper each time, the fiction deepening as the gap lesson between our bodies and this is how I’ve imagined sex, two bodies coming together, no thought, just pleasure, and I’m wrapping my legs around his waist, thinking he couldn’t get any deeper, and then he does, and he rasps out a breathy, “Holy fuck—This—”

“This—is so—fuck…” he says, trying to find words, but I don’t need them because when he forces his arm all the way across my low back, grabbing hold of my waist, I lift my hips, just as he’s lifting me, coming up to his knees, my legs gripping him like my life depends on it, like I can’t miss a single moment of pleasure, and I rip the pillow from under me, letting my head crash to the mattress hard, my spine a straight line, and this, holy shit this.

And he pulls me down his dick hard this time, stars blooming behind my eyes, and I have no clue where the fuck I am anymore, where my body starts and his ends, and each time he pumps into me, I moan out, calling his name, claiming it as if it were mine to claim, repeating, “So good—” over and over, a steady knot weaving deep in my belly and this is happening, I think—I’m going to come, he’s going to make me come.

When he mumbles out, “So…close—” I grip his waist hard, my hands flat against the bed, pushing myself up, working my hips up and down, riding with a driving force, keeping him deep inside me, and when he yells my name I’m right at the edge, seconds away.

“Fuck—Mar—” and he’s coming, bursting inside me, his dick pulsing with each slowed thrust, it tips me over the cliff, and I’m falling, falling, freeing the tension as my body shutters under his, every muscle going tight, gripping around the contour of his dick as hard as I can, more demanding than before, and he lets me ride out this wave of bliss until my body goes slack in his arms.

He laughs then, bringing me back to the present, startling me back from a place I’ve never been with anyone else, not like this. I’ve never been able to let go, get into the headspace, not overthink it, just be, and as he gently lowers me back down to the bed.

Out of nowhere, I erupt into pure laughter, an uncontrollable sensation that seizes my entire body, shaking with every ridiculous giggle, “Holy shit—” I breathe, covering my face as the laughter ripples through me.

“That good, huh?” he chuckles, trying to pull my hands away.

“Yeah…” I muffle through my hands as the laughter starts to subside. He presses his lips to my wrist, and I peek out, catching his eyes on me. 

He tugs at them again, and I slowly lower them, too afraid to look at him, “We’ve made a bit of a mess, yeah?” He says, as he gently pulls out of me, a quick rush of sensation that overstimulates me, and as soon as he’s out, I clamp my legs shut. 

Curiosity has me lifting myself onto my elbows to get a better look at the damage. The light catches the glint of Harry’s slick dick, and I fall back onto the pillows, covering my face again; a strange mix of embarrassment and guilt gripping hold of me, and I can’t believe I just had sex with Harry.

“What?” he asks, and I don’t even have to look at him to know he’s smiling; I can hear it in his voice. The bed dips as he moves around, my face burning under my sweaty palms.

And then I realize I’m naked, and I lift myself, drawing my knees to my chest, and hug them close to my body, “Nothing, it’s just—” I start.

“I don’t know…I guess I’ve never pictured that happening...”

“Never—? Not even once?” he asks, and his question feels pointed. Maybe he doesn’t mean it that way, but younger Marlowe, Middle school Marlowe, is on the defense.

I shrug my shoulders, trying to run a hand through my messy hair, but the curls are peeking through, so I leave it. I watch Harry slip back into his boxers as silence mounds between us. “I just mean—” he lets out. 

“I’ve pictured it…” and my eyes dart to him, “Like, didn’t you have like sort of a crush on me before?” he smiles. If he’s teasing me about it, I’m not into it. We’re just now at a comfortable enough level with this topic—and by comfortable, I mean we just had sex without it ever coming up, and I don’t want to push it any further. 

Fuck—why is he doing this? Where is he going with this conversation? Is he really trying to rehash the past? 

I puff my cheeks, blowing out a hot breath, my face burning, and I shake my head, shrugging my shoulders again, “You already knew that, Harry…” I answer, my voice dropping, feeling disgusted with myself, sitting with the aftermath of what we just did as it pulls between my legs, and my eyes start to sting, shame burning me alive. I don’t want to cry, but there is so much that I’m feeling right now, confused to say the least, because that wouldn’t even touch the surface because what are we even doing?

His face falls then, like he’s reading room, understanding sweeping the smirk off his face, “Fuck—Marlowe. I’m an idiot. I didn’t mean it like that…” 

“Honestly—?” he asks, “I’ve liked you for a long time—” and I click my tongue, rolling my eyes because I can’t look at him as he tries to confess to something that can’t be true.

My eyes roam the blank wall, looking anywhere else but at him, “I’m serious, Marlowe…and maybe this isn’t fair…” and I shake my head as the tears swell in my eyes.

“Please don’t—” I breathe.

“Marlowe, look at me…”

“Please?” he pleads.

“Why are you doing this right now,” I ask, tears flooding over.

“I didn’t mean to upset you… it’s just that—” Then Harry exhales a frustrated breath, “It’s just that I never thought I had a chance…and then you started dating Trent—”

“And before that?” I ask, reaching for the blanket because every time his eyes flit over my body, I’m grossed out, on the verge of throwing up, trapped in this situation I put myself in. 

“I told you—I was an idiot…” 

A cold silence stretches between us as I tug on the blanket, and then I realize he’s sitting on it, and I give up. “Marlow, listen…” he pushes, lifting off the blanket, and he tosses the edge toward me, and I snatch it up, wrapping it around my body. 

“I know I’ve fucked up in the past…but tell me, is there any way that we could walk away from this with something good…I don’t want to be “that guy” to you forever…the one that hurt your feelings…that rejected you when I should have just—I don’t know…”

He shrugs his shoulders, slumping with the thought, defeat stealing his posture, “Whatever that was—I don’t know…that was amazing,” he tells me, a shy smile turning up the corners of his mouth, “I don’t know… I’ve honestly never felt like that connected to someone before…that was—wow…” and he laughs out that last part, looking down at his hands in his lap, guilt passing over his face.

“It was good,” I say softly, grabbing his attention as a slow smile spreads across my face, and I swipe the tears from my eyes.

“Yeah?” he breaths, eyes searching my face.

“The best I’ve ever had…” and I laugh then, taking in his boyish grin, and I don’t know how he does it, and then he’s climbing on top of me, kissing my whole face, tears and all, then I’m pulling at his boxers, and he’s pushing inside me again, and each time it’s easier than the next.

I woke the next day with Harry’s body wrapped around mine, my hair sticking to my face, still wet from the shower we had taken just after we watched the sunrise over the lake. 

At some point, my phone died, and Harry didn’t have the same charger, so even though I didn’t want to cut our time short, I knew I had to get home. My parents didn’t normally care what I did anymore since I was eighteen, and there were only a few months of senior year, so as long as I kept my grades up, they didn’t care. 

Several times on the way to my house, Harry offered to buy me a charger, feed me lunch, dinner, anything to stay a little longer, but we both knew it would have to end. That our bubble would burst, and the real world would floor us no matter what—and that it did because the second he leaned in to kiss me goodbye, I knew it would be the last time I kissed him, so I savored every second, my body already yearning for every once of pleasure it felt last night, and this morning, another round, another shower, and I didn’t even recognize that girl, who I was turning into with him. 

That my feelings could be reciprocated, that I could truly enjoy myself with no judgment or shame, and as I gripped at his shirt, I longed for the person I could have been, for him, and I had to force myself from the kiss, leaving him with an untethered goodbye.

Words would never be enough because even though every muscle in my body ached, a delicious reminder of what our bodies could do together, a swift “thank you” wasn’t enough, the dull ache between my legs throbbing as I uttered the words “see you around” made my stomach flip with the truth of it—that it was just sex, and I had to be okay with that. 

Harry waited until I stepped inside, lingering, and when I glimpsed back, we locked eyes, and if he had waited any longer, I would have run back to his car. 

I could hear my mom clinking around in the kitchen. So dodged her and ran straight for the stairs and into my room, falling to my knees in front of the dress. I ripped open the bottom drawer and rifled through my clothes until I found the Plan B package I had stolen from my sister a long time ago. 

I stood fidgeting with the box, my hands shaking as stupidity dawned on me—actually, I thought about it last night when I was sitting on his toilet, waiting as his semen dripped from my body, pondering on what the fuck I was doing, because I stopped taking the pills a month ago, telling Trent I needed to take a step back because the birth control was making me gain weight. While that can be a true fact, it was a lie, and I only said it because I knew it was the only thing he would believe.

I didn’t want to have sex with him anymore. I figured I would ride out these last five months of school, knowing he was bound to break up with me, and that would be okay because I would be going to school far away from here next year, and I hadn’t told anyone where—a big fuck you to everyone who’s made my life hell. 

“Marlowe—” My mom’s voice echoes, but it sounds like she’s calling from downstairs, and I rip the box open, moving to my desk to cut open the package. The tips of my fingers are so shaky I can barely separate the foil from the pill, and just as it opens and the pill falls into my hand, I pop it into my mouth; shoving the packaging in the pocket of the hoodie, Harry let me borrow or keep—I don’t know—but then my mom burst through the door with mail in her hand, eyes shifted down as panic overtakes me. 

“Hey you…” she says as the pill gets caught in my throat, and I swallow down harder this time, forcing the dry speck down my fucking esophagus. 

“Hey—” I greet her, coughing slightly, clearing my throat as her eyes roam around my room.

“Didn’t hear you come in…” she says, eyeing me suspiciously, then they fall to the logo on the hoodie. 

“Sorry, my phone died. I was at Skylars.” I explain, clasping my hands in front of me. I have nothing to be nervous about; it is just something that I don’t want to explain.

“Trent came by—” she starts, and I nod, my heart dropping in my chest because it’s too soon to hear his name, “He said your phone was dead. I was guessing you were at Skys…?” she confirms with a questioning look, pulling between her brow. 

“Yeah…at Skys,” I agree, shoving my hands into the hoodie’s pocket. 

“Are you hungry? I was thinking of getting some food—or maybe we could go out…just the two of us? Dad had to go back into the office. He just started a huge case.”

I shrug my shoulders, wanting to play it casual—This is all normal, and I didn’t just almost choke on a Plan B pill because I let some dude come inside me several times, “That sounds good, Mom. I’m going to change first.” I tell her, suddenly wondering if Harry has fucked a lot of girls without condoms because that was not normal for me, but was it normal for him? Should I be worried? Should I get tested?

“Yeah—you look like you’ve barely slept…” she answers. 

I laugh, “Yeah, we pulled an all-nighter….” 

“But I do like your hair curly; it looks beautiful…you look beautiful, honey,” she tells me. 

I smile then, a rush of emotions flooding me, and I walk to my closet, opening the doors. “Styles?” she says immediately, reading the back of Harry’s soccer hoodie, making my heart skip a beat. 

“Isn’t that the last name of the boy you used to like? God—what’s his name…gosh, it's been so long—”

“Harry—”

“Oh, yes, Harry—He had a memorable last name, didn’t he? Was he at Sky’s?”

And I gulp down my racing heart, pretending to sift through my stuff, ‘Yeah…I forgot my jacket. So Harry let me borrow his hoddie.”

“Okay, well, that was nice of him—I’ll leave you to it, Dear. Come down when you’re ready; I’ll probably watch my cooking show while I wait.” Then my mom shuts the door, and I hurry over to the trash can under my desk, burying the contents of the packaging in my pocket, and sprawl across my bed as last night’s memories come crashing in—thinking I’ll never be the same because I think I’ll always want Harry, no matter how many times I’ve tried to rid him from my system. 

And now he’s back in life, and I think I’m already in deep, maybe deeper this time, and that's scary, pivotal because I’m not sure I’ll be able to control it this time; because in my heart of hearts, I haven’t changed, I’ve just gotten better at hiding it. 

A/N: So that happened...how will either one of them recover from that??? Part lll Monday can't wait. It's already getting good!

Tag list open! just let me know!

[yeszzs]

MiloxRyan AU: Stockholm Syndrome

"There was also another change that Ryan didn't expect, and that was Milo's behavior becoming that of a baby koala."

[6.9k characters and 1.2k words... Narration is Ryan-biased]

Milo's place was filled with the sour stench of dried blood mixed with a strong odor of insect repellent. The walls were covered in peeling yellow paint, and dust gathered in every corner. Spider webs hung on the ceiling, and Ryan suspected that ants were starting to infest the space beneath the wooden floorboards.

In short, Milo's place was shit.

But to be fair, Ryan wasn't entirely convinced that this ramshackle dump was the guy's real place or if it was some cheap temporary flat he rented for a couple of bills and weed. After all, you can't exactly get caught holding the son of some wealthy bastard hostage, right?

Ryan sighed heavily, his face pressed into the worn sofa cushions as he fought to keep the rising bile in his throat at bay. The rough, itchy sensation of the cuffs chafing against his legs was a constant pain but he was too exhausted to do anything about it. He lay there listlessly, feeling the weight of his anxiety grow heavier. Trapped in this dilapidated, poor excuse of a house for months, his hopes of escaping seemed to dwindle with each passing day. He had clung to the thought that Milo might eventually release him, but the asshole's recent behavior had grown increasingly erratic and unpredictable.

Ever since Eris dumped Milo (Ryan overheard Milo muttering to himself once), Milo had apparently kidnapped him as a way to prove his worth to the crazy fucker.

However, the whole kidnapping thing has been going on for too long and Ryan's pretty sure that Eris isn't coming back. Milo seems delusional though, and is only getting worse every time he comes to visit Ryan. In fact, Ryan has been seeing his face around more often than not and it's become incredibly off-putting.

At first, Milo was only around to either beat the crap out of him or to feed him the little food he had left to spare. But as time passed, his living conditions upgraded. Ryan went from living in the shitty basement to living in the equally shitty living room. The windows were boarded up so he couldn't see anything from the outside, and he couldn't even reach the main door if he tried because of the metal cuffs tugging his ankles back.

In short, Ryan still felt like shit.

And yet, he didn't complain. At the very least, he wasn't getting any limbs sawed off, and his testicles were still perfectly intact. It was a good thing that Milo didn't hate him so much as to castrate him but the lonely thought brought little comfort to Ryan's turbulent mind.

He mentally sighed.

There was also another change that Ryan didn't expect, and that was Milo's behavior becoming that of a baby koala.

Speaking of koalas, Ryan let out a grunt as Milo shifted behind him, maneuvering him onto his back and pressing his face against Ryan's collarbone. Milo's arms encircled Ryan’s torso tightly, creating an uncomfortable embrace that left Ryan with a sense of fear and tension.

The unexpected closeness made Ryan's blood run cold, as he couldn’t shake the feeling that Milo might try and do something to harm him. Milo’s hug felt like a deliberate move, done to lower Ryan's guard and exploit his vulnerability.

"Stop moving," Milo said firmly, his hand closing around one of Ryan's wrists and positioning it gently on top of his thick, black hair. Ryan instinctively froze and began petting Milo's head.

Ryan had absolutely no idea how this strange transgression even occurred. He really had no idea! He was ripping his hair out on the inside and dreaming of slamming his thin face into the piss-colored walls because;

What! The! Fuck! Is he doing with his kidnapper?! Is he playing some sick game of house with this little shit now?! Has he truly gone insane? He really had no clue how this happened in the first place and when Milo began acting like a newborn infant.

...

Well.

Actually... Ryan may have an inkling.

A month ago or so, Milo had forgotten to chain Ryan back up after letting him bathe in the tub and Ryan–seeing the opportunity–took it and ran. He had practically ripped the door off its hinges and bolted out the house. Milo quickly noticed Ryan's escape and hurriedly chased after the man. After realizing that Milo had begun hunting him down–evidenced by the chain of distant curses behind him–he started to pray to the gods above that the maniac would either trip over a stick or get run over by a car.

They both ran several yards, with Ryan shouting for help and Milo in close pursuit. Eventually, they reached a busy road with speeding cars. Ryan managed to make it to the other side, but Milo wasn't so fortunate; he was struck by a black Volvo and knocked unconscious, his rib crushed in the collision.

Ryan was relieved to finally have Milo off his ass but for some odd reason, he felt incredibly guilty leaving his kidnapper–who had beat him on multiple occasions–out on the road to get run over again. It was incredibly ridiculous but Ryan figured that he may as well just drag Milo over to the concrete sidewalk to protect him from the other cars. But after doing so, his guilt still hadn't been appeased so he decided that he'd at least patch the guy up and be back on his merry way. You know, since he's such a nice guy!

But it was still incredibly ridiculous.

Of course, Milo had woken up before Ryan was finished bandaging his wounds and was rewarded with a punch to the face. That's what you get for helping people, huh.

Looking back on it now, that's probably when Milo had began to visit this grimy home more often. Ryan really should have just gone home, seriously! He should've left Milo to die on that road. It's what he deserved anyway.

But...

Milo rubbed his face into Ryan's shirt, almost affectionately. He took a deep whiff of Ryan's scent and let a contented hum slip from his lips at the feeling of Ryan's fingers gently combing through his hair. Ryan grimaced, wrinkling his nose in mild discomfort but still continued stroking Milo's head, afraid of angering his hot-headed companion.

Nowadays, for some reason, Milo had become accustomed to entangling himself in Ryan's embrace much to the latter's dismay. Sniffing his hair, watching him from afar, finding minor excuses to touch him, all that weird stuff.

Ryan was distressed.

What is fucking happening.

Ryan gave Milo a gentle pat on the back, subtly nudging him to get off. Milo glanced up at him with a look of irritation, his brows knitted and eyes sharp. Ryan exhaled sharply, a mix of frustration and resignation in his voice. "Calm down, will you? I'm starving and just want to make something to eat." He then placed his hand back on Milo's head.

Milo looked as if he was deep in thought before murmuring something into Ryan's neck and begrudgingly standing up, stomping into the kitchen.

Ryan watched Milo's retreating back leave the living room and slowly raised a hand to his warm neck. He felt that his face had grown a little flush and decidedly buried himself back into the sofa cushions.

Living in this dump was still shit, Ryan swore.

But maybe it wasn't so bad.

[swanimagines]

Hello! Could you do John Murphy (The 100) + Moondust by Jaymes Young? Thank you very much!

When Murphy woke up, he was lying on that pile of soft moss again. The sun was casting its beams through the trees, creating golden spots all over that endless forest.

He knew by now that it wasn’t real. This place wasn’t real, it was merely a dream that would break his heart all over again when he woke up. But frankly, he didn’t care at this moment, as it was a chance of seeing you again.

The final battle had taken so much. When one of the Disciples had snuck up on him, you had thrown yourself against him, making him fall on the ground. And he knew even before he had met the ground — you had saved his life and gave up your own life for him.

And despite knowing that, he tried to drag you to safety, tried to plead for you to stay awake. You sputtered out blood, choking on it. Murphy tried so hard, fought against the impossible. But he knew, this was the day he’d lose you.

You had been friends since childhood. And you had become lovers when you were sent down to Earth. It was all for fun at first, but then turned out to be something more serious. You had grown together, and it all had led to that moment. Him holding you against him, pleading for you to stay with him, not leave him alone.

You had tried to comfort him as much as you could. You held his hand — your hand was shaky and weak, but you tried to comfort him. Wordlessly tell him he’ll be okay, you’ll be there for him even if he doesn’t see you.

It felt like a lifetime, you two sitting there. But at the same time, it went by too fast. Finally, you took in a few gasps, gurgling the blood in your throat, and then… your eyes fluttered closed and your head lolled to the side. 

You were gone.

But now, seeing you sitting by that waterfall, turning to see Murphy and smiling at him — standing up and running to meet him halfway. It felt so real. Murphy knew everyone would think he'd be crazy if he told them about his dreams.

“I missed you,” you told him, the same thing you told him every night. Over and over, as if you forgot it again. Which you technically had, Murphy thought. You’re only my dream, not real.

He knew what you’d say if you’d actually stand before him right now. You’d tell him to move on in his life, to be happy. That you don’t want him to swim in misery, that he’s breaking your heart by not moving on. How can I move on without you? Murphy would reply if it really was you. I can't go on without you.

But it wasn’t what he’d say to the dream version of you. Here, you were still alive. You were happy. You didn’t know you were dead. He didn’t know why Murphy kept coming back. You didn’t see the pain, how he had drunk himself in so bad shape that he had been slapped by others, because he was rude, blaming everyone for not saving you. He knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault. You had chosen to die for him. If he wanted to seek the guilty one, it would be you. But it was easier to blame others whenever he was drunk.

“I missed you too,” he muttered, smiling as you took his hand.

“Come,” you said, nodding towards the pathway that had appeared beside the waterfall. “I have something cool to show you.”

He let you lead him to that cave, where you always brought him. It was the same cave you had spent time with him in real life, back when the Earth still existed. The same cave where he had finally told you he has fallen in love with you, and wants more than something free and casual. You had agreed, and you had kissed there for the first time as a couple. And after that, that cave had been your sanctuary for a long time.

You arrived at the cave, and you gestured around. “I found this yesterday, after you left.”

He nodded, looking around too, acting as if he saw it for the first time. “Yeah, it’s nice.”

You sat down on the pillows and blankets. “We could stay the night here?”

“That’d be nice.”

“But…” you sighed and bit your lip. “I know you need to leave before sunset again.”

He nodded. When the sun here set, he woke up and was reminded you only existed in his memories and dreams. And still, he always willed himself to return to you, night after night, even when your discussion was the same every time. But being close to you, even getting a semblance of what you used to have, how you used to be, being able to hold you, kiss you, smell you… it was something he wasn’t able to let go yet.

Murphy smiled. “But, I’m not going anywhere yet.”

You sat in silence for a while, before you squeezed his hand. “So, what happens next?”

Murphy frowned. “Next?”

You nodded, tilting your head. “Yeah. What happens when you leave?”

He shrugged. “I… I wake up.”

“And then?”

“And then… I…” he trailed off, not able to just say it.

Say it.

You sighed. “You can’t keep coming back here, John.”

Murphy averted his eyes from you. He knew this was the rational side of him speaking, reminding him what you’d say if you were actually there with him. He had been afraid of when his brains decided to make the dream you say these things.

But he still refused to believe it. “Why not? You’re here.”

You shook your head. “You know it’s not really me. I’m your imagination, but I keep you from going forward. Wherever I am, I know my heart breaks every time I see you destroying your life because of me.”

“You aren’t the one—”

“But I’m the reason what’s causing you to behave like an ass towards your friends.”

Murphy didn’t reply, knowing you’re right. You shifted closer to him. “You need to let go of me.”

He breathed out and swallowed. “I don’t… want to say goodbye.”

You smiled sadly, snuggling closer to him. “You don’t have to say goodbye. Just… until we meet again.”

He knew all of it was true, even if he tried to deny it from himself. So he closed his eyes and willed himself to nod.

He felt your hand disappear from his. “I love you, John.”

Then, it was silence, and darkness. He knew even before he opened his eyes, that the dream had ended early.

And when he finally opened his eyes and sat up, he was in his cramped room again. The bitter smell of alcohol floated in the air, bottles all around his room. A half-empty glass of whiskey on his night table. His room was a mess. No, he was a mess. And he knew he had to get his life together, but he didn’t really know how. Now even his body was telling him that he needed to let you go. Bury his love in the moondust. You had always joked that one day, you’d move to the moon and build a house there. You’d be there all by yourself, and you’d also own the biggest lot in the whole solar system.

He knew that burying his love didn’t mean he would need to forget you or stop loving you. He just needed to bury the part that couldn’t accept the fact you were gone. That your visits in his dreams would be natural, and not a practiced habit he had learned when you died.

The whiskey on his night table called out to him, tempted him. Drinking the pain away in the only way he knew when not sleeping. But he forced himself to turn away from it. He had to let go. And he had to find other ways to cope than dreams and alcohol. He knew it, he knew it was what you would want. 

And the best way to honor your memory was keep on living.

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[leehyuckl0ver]

VAMPIRE. . . 🩸 Haechan X Male reader (+18) top haechan, bottom male reader, nsfw, blood, vampire haechan, description of genitals, cursing, marking, rough sex, blow job, etc. - first time writting here + english is not my first lenguage.

You were on your way home after a party, passing near an old house, the haunted house of your town. It was 3 am, when suddenly, you heard a sound, a strange sound. You tried to ignore it, but it was too terrifying.

OH MY GOD I'M GOING TO DIE. you thought. It wasn't the first time you went down that street at night, but there was something strange, you didn't know if it was the atmosphere of the place or that something strange was happening that night.

There was a full moon, nothing strange, but you had already heard many times that in the town where you lived, full moon nights were rare as hell.

I think I'm going crazy, I'm here alone but why the hell do I hear like someone is running through the bushes of the haunted house? Now you were even more scared than before, that you froze in place as you heard footsteps behind you.

“If there is someone, please don’t kill me. I can do whatever you want, but please don’t kill me.”

“Oh no honey, I’m not going to kill you,” someone said behind you.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

“I’m Haechan. I just want to play and have fun.”

You were going to speak, but you were interrupted by the fact that that man stood in front of you, making you freeze even more than before. He was gorgeous asf; his skin, his moles, his eyes, HIS LIPS… You were amazed by the beauty of that man. You had never seen someone as handsome as him. Something about that man attracted you, in fact, until a few seconds ago, you were fearing for your life and what could happen to you, but the moment you saw his face, you stopped fearing for your life. You felt too attracted to him, to the point of needing to have him close to you. He has very beautiful lips…

“Oh... I see, you think I'm handsome... plus you think I have beautiful lips?” The man said with a mischievous laugh. “H-HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?!” you stuttered. “Darling, I’m a vampire and I can read your mind…” he said. "And I see that you want me, just as much as I want you."

You were shocked. What do you mean, vampire? That was impossible, the existence of vampires was pure fiction, they couldn’t exist. Even though you were a big fan of vampires and all their lore, you couldn't believe him. You knew perfectly well the long encyclopedias of vampirism, how they were born and how their “existence” was possible, although you didn’t think they were real.

You couldn’t believe what that man had told you, but, he had really read your mind, as strange as it seemed to you. It could be a coincidence, or, he was extremely narcissistic that he was capable of thinking that, sadly, you gave yourself away the moment you raised your voice at him.

“Come on boy, you're looking at me… Do you seriously still believe that vampires are fiction?” He said with a big smile, showing his sharp, blood-filled fangs. Oh god, he really is a vampire...

Even though the existence of vampires might be terrifying to other people, to you it was the best news there could be, since you wished that they existed or that you could become one yourself.

"What do you want?". “I've already said what I want. I want to play. I want you.”

“Me?! Why?!”. “Come with me darling” He said while pulling your arm leading you into the haunted house.

The breeze picked up, and with it, you began to smell a magnificent aroma. That scent came from Haechan, it was the best scent you had ever smelled in your entire life. It was crazy the fact that everything about him seemed so incredible to you. You felt like you were under a spell, but it felt wonderful, like a dream, from which you didn't care at all about never waking up.

Haechan thought it was too funny to read your mind, but above all he thought it was wonderful to have run into a vampire fan.

But there was something, and it was that he didn't know that he was never going to be able to let you go, neither you, but it would be something that you both would never regret.

You both entered the house, and as you moved through it, you noticed that it was almost empty, except for a few things. “This place is almost empty” you muttered. “You can speak louder, no one will hear us,” he said with a raspy voice. "By the way, what's your name?"

“Didn't you say that you could read minds?” you said sarcastically. “Well, obviously I can, but it's not like you've thought about your name in a while…” Haechan finished the sentence giggling.

I’m dumb asf… “Y/N.” “My pleasure, darling.”

That darling made your heart skip a beat, you weren't used to anyone treating you with pet names, much less having a man as handsome as Haechan say them.

You walked through the house, arriving at the main room, which contained few things, some clothes and a bed. You were in complete silence, but Haechan broke the silence. “Fuck, you smell too good, you’re going to end up driving me crazy” He said as he approached you, you could notice how he was fighting with his wild side trying to control his craziest impulses, he didn’t want to scare you, at least not now.

“Please don’t kill me” You begged him again. “Of course not,” he shook his head in denial as he looked you up and down with hungry eyes. “Killing you would be a shame, my love, I just need to taste your blood.”

You opened your eyes wide, you were freaking out, you didn’t know what to do, part of you wanted to run away, but the other part wanted to see what Haechan was capable of doing to you. Suddenly, you felt a sort of pinch on your neck, caused by Haechan, who had bitten your neck, which caused a choked sob. Haechan was finally getting a taste of your blood.

“FuUck-” He moaned. “You taste so fucking good.” His moans made you hard, along with the fact that he was sucking your neck. But you needed more, you needed more of him.

Damn, I'm so hard, you said to yourself, forgetting that Haechan could read your mind.

He stopped sucking on your neck, which made you look at him strangely. “Why are you stopping?”

“You’re hard, aren’t you?” Shit, I forgot he could read my mind, you thought as you rubbed your forehead. “Hahaha, exactly y/n.”

He carried you to the bed and sat you on it, then looked down at you with a mischievous smile. He approached your shirt, beginning to undo the buttons on it. Suddenly, you noticed that he was hard too. So I'm not the only one who's hard... you thought, making Haechan chuckle softly.

Tired of waiting for Haechan to finish unbuttoning your shirt, you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and made him sit on the bed.

Abruptly, you began to make out, joining your tongues in a deep kiss.

You separated from him, drawing a gasp from his mouth, while a thread of saliva joined you both.

You left kisses all over his body, his neck, his collarbones, until you reached his nipples. You began to lick one of them, while with the other one you moved it as you pleased, making him not stop panting, in addition to releasing some unidentifiable words.

“Aah, I’m so horny” he said in a rough tone.

You bit his nipple. “Fuuh~~” he moaned as he threw his head back. This made you hornier.

You reached for his pants and proceeded to untie them, quickly, no matter how hungry you looked to want to eat his cock. Damn I need that cock. That thought of yours made his penis get even more erect than it already was, making you almost drool.

Haechan was looking at you impressed, he had barely had any adventure, especially because he was a very lonely man, something very opposite to you.

And finally, you had his cock in your hands, this was giving your hole throbbing, you were eager to have him inside you, but first, you had to taste his cock. Keeping eye contact with Haechan, you took his cock into your mouth, slowly, wetting every inch of it. “Holy shit… agh… fuck…” He moans continuously. “This shit is amazing, you are amazing”.

After a few minutes of intense sucking, you decided to stop, confusing Haechan. “Hmm? Why are you stopping?”.

“I need you inside me” You say with a powerful tone.

Haechan looked at you waiting for your next move, eager for what you were going to do.

You stood up, and proceeded to get on top of him, rubbing your body against his, eliciting moans from both of you.

You both eagerly took off your clothes, remaining naked under the moonlight, which was the only thing that kept you from being in the dark.

You grabbed his chin, and pressed your lips together, kissing and creating wet sounds. He grabbed his cock and yours, rubbing them together, causing gasps between both of you.

“Uhhh… fuck…” he kept mumbling.

He stopped kissing, trying to catch some air.

"I need you to fuck me right now." you said eagerly.

"Please, I'm craving it."

You made him lie down on bed, which he obeyed. You felt like you had him wrapped around your finger, which shocked you a bit, cause he was a vampire, shouldn't it be the other way around? However. You got on top of him, grabbed his dick and directed it to you hole, slowly, to make your hole get used to the sensation.

This feels so fucking good, holy shit. you thought.

"Do it, agh..." Haechan whispered. "What? Speak loudly please" you said trying to tease him. Haechan was begging to fuck your hole, but in a summisive way, almost desperately. It was irresistible, but you wanted to play a bit more, just because you wanted to see how desperate he was for you and you wanted to hear him begging more.

You played a little more with his nipples, licking them, and from time to time you left a hickey on his neck, collarbone, chest…

"Let me fuck you, please" He finally asked. "As you wish, Haechan".

You pushed his dick inside you, causing both of you gasp. At first, his dick caused you some pain, but you adjusted.

You started going up and down slowly, taking control of everything. You increased your speed more and more, causing moans from both of you.

"Yes… fuck… agh… fuck… uff" he shouted.

“You like it?”

“FUuck, yes, yes I love this” he moaned.

You were amazed by how good the sex with Haechan was, you weren’t an expert, but sometimes you had some casual sex with some tinder guy.

But you weren't satisfied, not at all, you needed the sex to be stronger, harder.

"Destroy me" You blurted out, making Haechan jump.

"What?"

"Rip me apart, Haechan." You said that with a hungry grin.

You saw his gaze change, his eyes became more ferocious, you got a little scared, you didn't know you had awakened a beast.

“So that's what you want huh?... I won't hold back anymore.”

Abruptly, Haechan grabbed you by the arms, making you switch positions. He threw you down on the bed, your eyes widened, you didn't think he was going to be so rough, but you didn't dislike it, instead it made you feel more attracted to him, you were more and more eager to see his rough and strong side.

“Do what you want to me” you whispered in his ear.

"You don't know what you're asking for, my love.”

It was said that vampires when it came to sex, vampires were rough, fierce like beasts, of course it was a fairytale. You thought that until you saw him in action.

Haechan bites your neck, drawing a soft stream of blood. It doesn’t cause you pain, rather, pleasure.

“Fuck… Haechan” you moan his name, turning him on even more.

Haechan lunged at you, roughly, like an animal catching its prey.

The bed began to crack, everything began to shake

“W-why is everything shaking?” you gulped. “Honey, I already warned you that I wasn't going to hold back.” Haechan grabbed his hard cock, brought it close to your hole and without warning, he slid it in hard, making you scream with pleasure.

“Aahh…fuck, ugh.” you screamed, although you really enjoyed it.

He began to thrust into you, like a hungry beast.

“Your thighs are driving me crazy,” he blurted out, and without warning he bit your thigh.

He drew blood from it, filling your entire leg with it, it scared you to see so much blood, but you couldn't do much, you were immersed in your moans as well as his.

The way he fucked you made your eyes roll back from the pleasure he made you feel.

“Keep going, yeah, ahh, yeah. Oh my god Haechan,” you moaned. “Fuck me harder Haechan.”

In fact, he fucked you harder, reaching every corner of your hole with the thrusts he gave.

You felt like you were about to cum, but you didn’t want to stop, you wanted this to be endless.

“I’m gonna cum.”

“Hold on for me, okay?” Haechan said in your ear, making a shiver run through your body.

Between the strong thrusts and the blood he had sucked from you, you began to feel very disoriented, you didn't even know where you were anymore, the only thing you felt was pleasure.

You dug your nails into Haechan's back and held onto him tightly. You were almost at your limit, feeling like you were going to faint.

"Hae-Haechan, I'm going to faint" you mumbled in his ear.

Haechan panicked, but he quickly bit his wrist and offered you some of his blood. "Drink my blood, it will make you feel better"

You drank his blood, and sure enough, he was right. You quickly regained strength, feeling like you could be fucking him all night, or your whole life.

You grabbed him by his chin. "Come inside me," you said.

He got harder, and started pounding you harder, making both of you moan at the same time, filling the whole room with your erotic sounds.

“Ahh, yes… uuh y/n, you are so fucking good” he groans.

You kissed, licked and left marks on each other in a violent way.

He grabs your cock, stroking it, almost making you cum on his hand.

“Fill me up, please” You panted.

“Of course baby”.

You both came at the same time, making you moan so loudly that if someone was near the house would be hearing it.

“Fuck yeah, you are so good” he moaned in your hear. “Oh gosh…” you moaned as you cummed his hand, making him lick his fingers. “You are fucking delicious” he said as he looked into your eyes while drinking your cum.

You were still holding onto Haechan. You didn't want to let him go, it felt so good that he was inside you. “Haechan, don't go” you whispered in his ear.

“Let me clean you y/n” “Can we stay like this hugged for a bit?” “Okay baby”.

He caressed your face, while kissing your forehead.

“Can we stay together forever?” you muttered. “I wanna stay with you forever”

“Well… you are human and I am not” “That doesn't matter Haechan” you said as you kissed him.

A month had passed, but you saw each other every day. You couldn't separate from each other, something that caused strangeness in people close to you, since they had never seen you so in love with someone and even less so suddenly.

And after a lot of talking with Haechan, you decided that before the end of the month, he would turn you into a vampire, as you had long dreamed of, at the same time that you would begin to live together, which would guarantee that you would never be separated, tying you to each other forever.

HIII Let me know if you liked this! it's my first time writing something like this lol, but anyway i hope you enjoyed it.

xoxo, jay ♡.

[hvnlygrl]

i have been thinking about this sm lately but stalker! bellamy blake that is always watching reader just admiring her etc. maybe they find out

trees.

pairing — stalker!bellamy blake x fem!reader

word count — 1.0k

warnings — stalker!bellamy, some sexual themes but nothing crazy.

synopsis — bellamy’s had eyes for you since the day he saw you, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you always see him.

notes — ughhh i love this sm this is gonna be a lil blurb :) sorry this took so long i was dealing with finals and then a funeral so ive been a little MIA.

you’re sunbathing right off the edge of this beautiful boulder-looking rock. it’s around 1-ish according to the watch that you have lying atop your pile of clothes. in nothing but a pair of panties, you lie on your stomach so that your back can tan evenly.

it’s nice. it’s nice to be able to feel the warmth of real sunlight on your skin and the wind through your hair. hear the breeze through the leaves above you and listen to the stream flow alongside you.

there’s something so serene about it. something so sacred about finally having a place where you could be truly alone. on the arc that wasn’t even a dream, it was an impossibility. there was always someone watching or some guard coming around to do routine checks.

bellamy sits on the branch of a tree, not too high up but high enough that you won’t notice him right away. his dark hair blocks his view just the slightest bit and he swipes it away, his hands sweaty from his nervousness. he’d never seen anyone as beautiful as you. it was like he was looking at an angel and he never wanted to stop. but it was the innocence you held in your solitude that he loved. he was nervous just looking at you, and he knew it was wrong, he felt horrible doing it, but he couldn’t ever stop himself from climbing up that tree 15 minutes before he knew you’d head to the rock.

bellamy was your best friend around the base, always laughing and cracking jokes. it was like he was the most confident when he was next to you, but he couldn’t tell you how he truly felt. he was far too afraid to mess things up between you. it was all so perfect when he was with you, he couldn’t risk making you feel uncomfortable.

it’s ironic, really, he knows. how he won’t ask you on a date but he’ll sit in a tree for 2 hours just watching you sunbathe naked (or damn close to it), and sing and read the same 3 books over and over again. your own perfect little rituals that were all yours.

you hum a tune, hey jude by the beatles. it’s what your mother sang when you were a kid, one of the only songs that stuck throughout the years. your nose is buried in this old book that you found one day in the library on the arc: Divergent.

it reminded you a lot of your own life, as if you resonated with tris in many ways and you couldn’t help but attach bellamy to four’s character. he was hot, protective, and held this air about him that could command an army.

you thought about bellamy often when you weren’t next to him, and many times he appeared into your dreams night after night. sometimes it was the two of you in this big beautiful house with kids and pets, other times it was much more devious, with the two of you sneaking away to hide on the drop ship, your hands down his pants and his grabbing and caressing you.

you especially thought about him while sitting atop your rock. part of you wanted to invite him sometime, but were too afraid he wouldn’t feel the same way.

bellamy’s breath catches in his throat and his jeans suddenly become two sizes too small when you flip onto your back, placing your book face down on your clothes next to you. you close your eyes, face turned toward the sunlight.

his boot slips, breaking a tiny branch off to the side of the one he’s perched on.

your eyes shoot open, hand immediately reaching for the gun bellamy had given you when he found out you were making these daily trips alone. “in case of grounders,” he huffed when you raised a brow at him suspiciously.

your hand grips the handle of the gun, finger pressed along the side of trigger. it’s probably nothing, right?

you don’t bother throwing your shirt on, if it is a grounder you won’t have the time to. it’s far too risky.

your eyes scan the tree line, looking for anything out of place.

bellamy holds his breath, his heart in his throat. what if you shoot him on accident before realizing it’s him? how would he explain that to the rest of the 100?

and thats’s when you see it, the glimmer of his necklace against his tan chest. his big clunky boots and all-black outfit.

“bell?” you’re embarrassed and confused and suddenly feeling so exposed. “what the hell?”

he climbs off of his branch, dropping down about 10 feet. “hey, y/n,” he breathes out. “i-uh”

“were you watching me?”

he pauses. everything in him wants to lie or come up with some excuse but he can’t. he can’t lie to you. “yea. i’m sorry. i don’t-“

“do you like me?” you cut him off. now’s your chance, you figure, considering you’re already basically naked.

“i love you, y/n,” he bites at the inside of his cheek, “i have for a while now. i didn’t know how to tell you, i was too scared to screw it up.”

bellamy steps toward you, his eyes fluttering back and forth between your chest and your eyes.

“you love me?” you choke out, eyes wide. “are you being serious right now, bellamy?”

“as a heart attack.”

“holy shit,” you blink in shock. you can’t believe that in a million years the bellamy blake would be in love with you.

he stands there awkwardly, like he can’t tell if you’re happy or freaking out in a bad way.

“i love you too, bell,” you smile at him, waving your hands at him to beckon him closer. “c’mere.”

he drops down next to you, his hand raising to cup your cheek, fingers slightly trembling with trepidation. you inch toward him, big doe eyes fluttering at him as you take in all the features of his face as if it were the first time again.

he leans in, initiating the first kiss, his soft lips fitting perfectly with yours as your hands begin unbuttoning his shirt.

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