#oh then dear saint let lips do what hands do. they pray grant thou lest faITH TURN TO DESPAIR

[soupernatural]

barenatural romeo and julietnatural

[zhounauts]

ROMEO & JULIET ──── pairing nrk x fmr warnings cursing wc 530 this story is so cringey to me i literally gagged at the last line

“my head hurts i can’t do this,” riki groans, sinking back into his chair.

“oh please, we’re literally only halfway through the fifth scene of the first act,” you chide, bonking his knee, “pick up your book again,”

“this is so ass,”

“what!?” you gasp, “romeo and juliet is so good,”

“of course you would think that,” he teases, turning to look at you, “miss literature nerd,”

“oh screw you mr. haven’t picked up a book since book club in fifth grade,” you snap back, “i’m sacrificing my time to tutor you, so stop complaining and read,” riki grumbles, but he relucatnatly picks up the book again, flipping through it with obvious boredom.

“okay,” you sigh, “how about this? let’s read the lines aloud and act them out, you’ll remember them better,” riki shrugs, “you’re romeo, i’m juliet. now read,”

“if i. . .profane with my. . .unworthiest hand? This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this,” riki starts off awkwardly, “romeo takes juliet’s hand?”

“no dumbass, those are the stage directions,” you laugh, “like this,”. you reach over to riki, grasping his hand with one of your own, as you hold the book with your other. you nod for him to continue, not taking note of the red blooming across his cheeks.

“my uhm, lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand. To smooth that rough touch with a tender. . .kiss?”

“good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much. Which mannerly devotion shows in this,” you raise your interlocked hands, letting go so that you can place your palm against his. “For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmer’s kiss,”

"what the hell does that even mean? why are we talking about pilgrims? is it thanksgiving?? what are holy palmers? holy hands?” riki asks.

“they’re using religious talk to show the purity of their love,” you tell him, “read your footnotes riki, pilgrims as in worshippers. and the holy palmers are when priests put their hands together to pray. come on, keep reading,”

“Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?” riki furrows his brows, the words all jumbled in his head. he glances at your hand, still touching his own.

“Ay pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer,” you watch as riki grimaces, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he tries to make sense of the story.

“O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair,”

“Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake. Come on, we’re almost done,”

“Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take,” riki looks up at you before his eyes go wide in alarm and he flushes red.

[He kisses her]

You meet his eyes, and burst out into laughter at his face. “did you just think we were gonna kiss?” protests explode from his mouth, and he sputters.

“no i—”

“it’s okay you were just in character, romeo,” you tease, “keep this up and i might have to give you a real kiss as a reward,”

[sl-vega]

✧Sticking to the Script✧-11

⋆｡°✩ 11-possessive much?

a/n: go here if you want to read along with the original romeo and juliet lines

"No, no, no, not like that, you need to make the brush strokes more even so the paint doesn't get clumpy."

"Don't cut that fabric yet-!"

"NO THAT SET DOESN'T GO THERE!"

"Oh Archons, this is what happens when I don't let the professionals do the work." Furina groaned as she rubbed her temples.

You, Lyney, and Fischl all walked into the auditorium together, seeing Furina yell at a group of students. There were many unfamiliar faces. You were told that most of the stage crew couldn't make it today, but all of the actors could, so Furina had to round up a bunch of volunteers to help with the production.

Suddenly, you saw a familiar figure enter through the doors by the stage.

"I'm so sorry about being late Miss Furina, I brought you your Starbucks order though, Chiori told me what you usually have." you heard a voice that you had grown far too fond of.

"Oh! Thank you so much Xingqiu, you're a life saver. You can go help Kazuha make the props." Furina said, gesturing to an area on the stage.

Xingqiu gave her a quick nod. He noticed you from across the room and he gave you a smile and a wave before setting his stuff aside and making his way to the other side of the room.

Fischl playfully elbowed you. "So that's the guy that has you this smitten huh?" she teased. You giggled, hitting her back "Oh, shut up." you responded.

The three of you made your way over to Furina who was about to give a small announcement for the cast.

"Attention! We'll be running the prologue and scenes 1-5 in Act 1 and after that, all of you will be working on sets together." she explained. "Places in five!" she snapped her fingers as everyone scrambled to their positions.

The chorus recited the prologue as per usual, you and Lyney had gone on and off stage. You were mentally preparing yourself for the ball scene. The two of you had already done it before, but you felt guilty about it with Xingqiu in the room.

I know that we're not really together, but why do I feel like I'm being disloyal?

Scaramouche had exited the stage, which cued Lyney to approach you. You took a deep breath, getting yourself into character. You weren't (Y/N), you were Juliet now.

It's showtime

Xingqiu was cutting paper into the shapes of hearts. Kazuha sat right next to him making origami hearts. Furina had told them that they were to be used as decorations for the ball scene.

Though Xingqiu was more focused on said ball scene rather than making the decorations for said scene. You and Lyney were very talented actors. The two of you were so in character. A little too in character for his liking.

But it wasn't fair for him to get in the way of something that mattered so much to you. He told himself that he was so focused due to interest. He totally wasn't jealous. Why would he have a reason to be?

He continued cutting the hearts, even though most of his focus was on you and Lyney. Xingqiu's read through the play before, he knew what was coming. He still continued his poor attempt of mutlitasking, which in turn was a poor attempt at distracting himself.

Snip

"Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much. Which mannerly devotion shows in this;"

Xingqiu watched you place your palm against Lyney's.

Snip

"Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?"

"Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer."

You had moved away from Lyney, face flushed and bashfully smiling.

Snip

"O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair."

Lyney had grabbed your hand yet again.

Snip

"Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake."

Snip

Lyney had cupped your cheek, your faces inches apart.

Snip

"Then move, while my prayer's effect I take."

Lyney had kissed you.

RIP

Kazuha turned over to look at his friend, who had just ripped several sheets of paper with a pair of scissors. Xingqiu kneeled down to the floor to pick up the ripped paper. He piled them on to the seat next to him, preserving the pieces that could still be used.

"Jealous?" Kazuha asked his friend, smirking. "Me? Jealous? Why'd I be jealous?" Xingqiu replied, getting defensive, he forced a laugh. Kazuha gave his friend an unimpressed look.

"A little bit, I guess. It's not that I don't trust her, I do, it's just-" Xingqiu sighed, he didn't want to disclose the true nature of your relationship. "Complicated?" Kazuha asked, trying to finish his friend's sentence.

Xingqiu nodded, "Yeah, let's go with that." He tried to put all his focus on cutting the hearts this time.

"She's an amazing actress though." Kazuha said, complimenting your skills.

"Yeah, she is." Xingqiu replied, trailing off.

That's all you were doing

Acting

That's all your relationship was

Acting

additional notes:

-this takes place on a saturday btw (no wonder most of the crew wasn't avaliable)

-once again the flower gif means a pov shift

-TRIPLE UPDATE LET'S GO

-hehehe possessive xingqiu

-him taking out his jealousy on the poor paper- LOL

-i quoted romeo and juliet word for word for y'all

-ALSO KAZUHA CAMEO

-lol not me slowly intergrating kazuha into the plot now

-doing this for the lovely @uuyuomi btw

-what if kazuha is actually endgame guys? 👀

-anyways I'm proud of this chap

masterlist

<prev ll next>

✧Sticking to the Script✧

Pairing: Xingqiu x FEM! Reader

Genre: fake dating, strangers to lovers, slow burn, fluff, angst (?), high school smau, modern smau

⋆｡°✩-Synopsis: Xingqiu just got entered into a special writing contest, the type that's invite only, the theme this year is love, the only problem is that he has zero romantic experience. but he really wants to prove himself as a writer. meanwhile, you just found out that your boyfriend cheated on you, and you need to show him that you're 100% over him, the only problem is that there's no way you can get an actual boyfriend that quickly. clearly, the solution to both of your issues is to fake date each other. it shouldn't be hard for an actor such as yourself, all you need to do is stick to the script.

(OPEN) Taglist: @freyao7, @thatoneswordgirl, @sn1perz, @latay7, @willowcandletree, @nmriki0, @help-whatdoimakemyusername, @httpsrenren, @cupid-spams, @aixaingela, @kaitfae, @luvkvni, @danhenglovebot

[clarywritesthings]

Practicing Lines - Leonardo DiCaprio Imagine

Summary: You knew that agreeing to practice lines from Romeo and Juliet with your best friend Leo was a bad idea.

AN: I'm a little nervous about posting this because I haven't really written imagines before, but oh well, I'll see how it goes :)

Tell me what you think :)

„Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,

Which mannerly devotion shows in this;

For saints have hands - „ I force out, trying to avoid Leo's piercing blue gaze. He's looking at me like he's never looked at me before.

Of course he is - he's acting. Practicing the first interaction between Romeo and Juliet with me.

Why on earth did I agree to do this?

Because he's my best friend.

Leo and I have been best friends for years - since we met for the first time when we were seven - but lately I feel like my feelings have changed. Like friendship isn't the only thing I feel for him anymore. Which isn't good at all, because I don't want to risk ruining our friendship.

Also, I'm pretty sure that he doesn't feel the same way.

But right now it's proving really hard to convince myself of that, with him looking at me all intrigued and enticing.

„For saints have hands", I force myself to repeat, trying my very best not to loose myself in Leo's ocean-blue eyes, „that pilgrim's hands do touch; and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss."

I take a step back, putting some very much needed distance between Leo and me. The look in his eyes has me feeling like it'd be a good idea to just grab him and kiss him, running my fingers through his dirty-blonde hair like I've secretly been dreaming of doing for quite some time now. His hair looks like it would feel soft to my touch and his lips -

Focus, I tell myself.

But it's hard to focus as Leo closes the distance between us once again, reaching for my hand. His fingertips graze my skin and I feel a weird tingling in my hand.

„Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?", Leo recites, interlacing our fingers.

„Ay, pilgrim, lips - I'm sorry, I can't do this!", I say, hastily pulling my hand back, as if his touch has burned my skin.

„What say you, Juliet?", Leo asks, grinning, still not breaking character.

How does he do this? How on earth can he do all these romantic scenes without catching any feelings?

He's an actor, I remind myself.

This isn't real. This isn't my best friend Leo looking at me like he's finally seeing me in another light, this is Romeo Montague being absolutely captivated by Juliet Capulet.

„I can't do this, Leo, I - you - „ should really stop looking at me like that, because otherwise I might do something very stupid, like kiss you, „you're ... you're the actor, n-not me ...", I stutter, distractedly.

Get. It. Together.

„It's just ... there's a reason that you're the actor, not me", I try again, sounding a lot more focused and put-together than I actually feel.

„You're doing great, really", Leo says, smiling assuringly.

I want to say something, but I'm distracted by Leo reaching for my hand, intertwining our fingers once again. The tingling sensation I feel in my fingertips as he takes my hand in his almost overwhelms me.

„Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer", Leo says.

„Huh?!", I ask, completely caught off guard.

„Your line, Juliet", Leo says, laughing softly.

„What - oh ... right ... I - right", I mumble. Fuck, I'm a mess. A blushing, stuttering mess.

„I mean - ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer."

„O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; they pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair", Leo says, leaning in even closer, as if to kiss me. His warm breath grazes my skin, the sensation so overwhelming that I take another step back, until my back hits the wall.

„Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake", I say breathlessly.

„Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take", Leo replies, closing the distance between us again.

He's so close now, our lips are almost touching. I can't concentrate.

„Wh-what happens next?", I ask, looking up at him.

This time it's Leo who avoids my gaze. „I kiss y- „, he pauses, clearing his throat. „Romeo kisses Juliet", he says, voice sounding raw.

„Oh."

My heart is beating so frantically in my chest that Leo can probably hear it. Feel it even, because we're so close that our bodies are almost touching.

Leo finally looks up, bright blue eyes finding mine.

Holding my gaze, he lets go of my hand, laying his hands on my waist instead. „He - Romeo, puts his hands on her waist, pulling her flush against him", he says, doing just that.

„Then, he kisses her."

His lips graze mine.

The kiss - if I can even call it that, for it's nothing more than his lips lightly brushing mine - is over before it can really begin.

I put my hands on his chest, in a weak effort to push him away.

„No ... I - wait", I force myself to say. Everything in me aches, as I turn my face to the side.

I close my eyes, fighting back tears.

„Y/N?", Leo asks, concerned.

„I'm sorry - I just - I ... I can't do this", I say, still not looking at him.

Not like this. Not when he's just pretending. I can't do this to myself.

God, I'm so stupid. I should've known that practicing lines for a romantic scene with Leo would only end in me feeling even more miserable, desperately trying to fight my feelings for him.

„Y/N, please tell me what's wrong!", Leo exclaims.

I choke back a sob as his fingertips suddenly graze my cheek.

I can't find the strength to just push his hand away.

„Y/N?", Leo pleads.

It's nothing, really. The words are right there on the tip of my tongue, but I can't bring myself to say them.

Because this isn't nothing.

„I'm so stupid", I whisper.

„What? Y/N, please, talk to me. Please just tell me what's wrong."

Maybe it's the worry in Leo's voice. Maybe it's just because I'm tired of fighting back the tears, tired of pretending all the time. Maybe it's this damn look in his eyes, making me believe that this is real. That this wasn't just us, Leo and Y/N pretending to be Romeo and Juliet, but Leo and Y/N.

Just us. No pretending.

Whatever the reason is, I find myself saying: „I should've known, really. I mean - I know that you're one hell of an actor. But - this ... this just felt so ... real, and I - I wanted it to be real."

Did I really just say that? Oh God, I did. Why on earth did I say this?

I really am stupid.

I'm too scared to look at Leo, to see the look on his face.

He still hasn't said anything.

The silence between us seems to go on forever.

I can't ignore the uneasy feeling that's clawing its' way up my throat any longer, so I turn, wanting to break away from Leo, but his right hand is still on my waist. And just as I try to move, his other hand suddenly reaches for my wrist, holding me back in place.

„What if I wanted it to be real, too?", he says, voice almost breaking.

„Wha- „

I can't help the surprised gasp as Leo suddenly pulls me back against him, closing his hands around my waist. His blue eyes lock onto mine.

„What if I want it to be real?"

„What are you say- „

Before I can finish my sentence, Leo leans in.

And kisses me. Really kisses me.

This is no brief, innocent peck.

His lips capture mine in a hungry, almost desperate kiss.

Overcome by emotion, I wrap my arms around his neck, tugging at his hair. Fueled by the low moan Leo lets out, I run my fingers through his hair. His hair feels even softer than I'd imagined.

This almost feels too good to be true.

Leo breaks the kiss, smiling at me. Lifting up one hand, he reaches forward, tugging a stray strand of my hair behind my ear.

I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. He's just kissed me almost senselessly, yet the sensation of his fingertips touching my forehead still feels like nearly too much.

„You okay?", Leo asks.

I nod. „Yeah, it's just ... I can't believe this is really happening ... This almost feels too good to be true. I feel like I'm going to wake up any minute and realize that this was all just a dream ..."

„You know, I wanted to tell you that I just kissed you by accident - and that this is all just a dream", Leo says.

„What?!", I say horrified.

Then, I see Leo grinning and I can't help but laugh, too.

„Hey! This is nothing to joke about!", I say, shoving him playfully. Leo holds up his hands in surrender. „Yeah, you're right - but kissing you actually kinda felt too good to be true."

I'm still trying to think of a response to that - I know that Leo can be smooth, until now I just didn't realize exactly how smooth - as Leo leans forward, kissing me again.

Kissing him back, I wrap my hands around his neck again. Just as I'm about to run my fingers through his hair once more, he breaks the kiss.

I sigh frustratedly, causing Leo to laugh softly.

His bright blue eyes find mine, as he gently strokes my cheek with his fingertips. The look in his eyes makes my knees go weak, like they're made of nothing more than jelly.

Damn those ocean-blue eyes. And his ability to express so much emotion with just one look.

And to know that the emotions in his eyes are real and true, that he's not pretending -

„So, does that mean that you're gonna be my Juliet?", Leo asks me.

„I'd rather not, Romeo", I reply, teasingly.

Leo's smile falters, his eyes widening.

„I don't know about you, but I don't really feel like committing suicide come next week, just because we can't be together", I clarify.

Leo visibly relaxes. „You really had me there for a second", he says, shaking his head.

„Sorry", I say, stealing a quick kiss before reaching for his free hand, interlacing our fingers.

„Fine. What about my Y/N? My girl, Y/N?", Leo asks.

„I - „, I gulp, swallowing down my nervousness. Because with Leo looking at me like that - his gaze so full of love and admiration that my knees really feel like they're made of jelly -, there's no reason to be nervous. None at all.

„Works fine for me", I say, before leaning in again, sealing our lips in another kiss. 

[hamliet]

Ahhh well, I have written much on Romeo and Juliet before, because it's one of my favorite works of Shakespeare and of literature itself. It is criminally underrated and scorned because of sexist anti-romance sentiment. So uh, yeah, I'm more of your opinion.

To start with, I wrote this here, and highly recommend this old post by someone else as well. It's quite comprehensive.

But, because I love Romeo and Juliet and the more I learn about it, the more impressed I am with the absolute art of the story Shakespeare told, I have more to say. Essentially:

Juliet is one of the most astounding female characters in all of literature, and most of her brilliance has been lost with the loss of Shakespearean context. You see, Juliet was a deliberate deconstruction of the idealized, virginal, holy creature of Woman. Yes, that's how the medieval poets like Petrarch (the inventor of the sonnet, which Shakespeare adapted and wrote his own versions of in Romeo and Juliet and hundreds more on their own) and even Dante Alighieri (yes, that Dante, the Inferno guy) wrote their women. For Petrarch, Laura (whom he like, never talked to) was the object of all his love poetry. For Dante, Beatrice was written as his spiritual guide into Paradise in Paradiso.

Not to simplify their love for these women, but Shakespeare was essentially like "RIP but I'm different." He wrote Juliet as a human character with flaws (hardly a spiritual guide) who was not this virginal, holy creature. She starts off the play extremely obedient to her family and polite, almost like that ideal, but as the play goes on she begins to let her fire grow.

Romeo's poems for Rosaline are deliberately trite and parody Petrarch's sonnets, as well as other sonnets from the day (for example, Rosaline is literally sworn to chastity forever, which wasn’t even the case for Laura or Beatrice). While the fact that Romeo can switch loves from Rosaline to Juliet so quickly does indeed emphasize his flaw (impulsivity and deep passion), it also thereby emphasizes his humanity, because the unique imagery Romeo uses with Juliet show that he is really in love with her as she is--not as an idea like with Rosaline, but as a human being. As with many of Shakespeare's other renowned plays' characters, Romeo's flaws are also his strengths. He's complex--human.

So what am I going on about? Why did Shakespeare write Romeo and Juliet this way?

To emphasize their humanity. Which is interesting, because Romeo and Juliet's first meeting, the one where they both create a sonnet together, is all about idolatry:

Romeo If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this. My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. Juliet Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, Which mannerly devotion shows in this; For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. Romeo Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? Juliet Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer. Romeo O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; They pray, grant thou lest faith turn to despair. Juliet Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake. Romeo Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. [He kisses her]

He describes her as a holy shrine and a saint, but the more their romance goes on, the more human she becomes. He kisses her right away. When they meet in the balcony scene, Juliet herself tells Romeo that the only thing she wants him to swear by--no gods or moons--is himself. In other words, Romeo and Juliet can be seen as a deeply humanistic play. 

Also, the more their romance continues, the more human they become and yet the deeper their love becomes. As one of the posts I linked above states, Romeo loves Juliet more after they’ve had sex, not less. Juliet loves Romeo more despite the fact that she knows he killed her cousin--and she is not happy with him for that, either. The more they learn of each other, the more they love each other. 

Oh, and about the extra gross modern take that "it's actually a story about a 13 year old and a much older man"--that is complete bogus, as the above post says. Romeo is almost certainly 15 or 16. While people can be squicked out by it (as it was designed to do with some Italian stereotypes), to say it shows anything creepy is basically literary blasphemy and betrays an utter lack of reading comprehension. 

Juliet sets the parameters in their relationship: she tells him if he really loves her, he has to marry her before she will sleep with him, and Romeo does. She muses herself how much she wants to sleep with him in a way that clearly expresses Juliet’s very human desires. Juliet is going to assert who she is and go after what she wants. 

So to go back to your question, it’s not just about their families, but about society as well, as Prince Escalus says in the final scene:

Capulet! Montague! See what a scourge is laid upon your hate, That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love. And I for winking at your discords too Have lost a brace of kinsmen. All are punish’d.

Everyone is punished for participating in the feud, which, keep in mind, we were introduced to via an intro fight scene between the servants of the respective families joking about raping the women in the opposing family. Yes, really. It’s almost like toxic masculinity was being called out before its time. 

Society is extremely sexist, as we see when Juliet’s father essentially sells her to Paris for the sake of having political clout to win the feud (literally, as Paris is the Prince’s kinsman) and threatens to send her on the streets to prostitute herself if she wants to survive for asking him not to make her marry Paris. But the cat’s out of that bag: Juliet is not going back to being the docile, obedient idol. She’s decisive. She wants to write her own story, and if that makes her a sinner, well then, she’ll go to hell. In the end, when the Friar suggests that Juliet come with him so that he can hide her away in some convent (after Romeo’s death), Juliet refuses and kills herself. She is not going back to being a figure shrouded in some kind of ethereal, unknown glow. She is a person, and people die. But she shouldn’t have had to die for people to see her as a person. 

There’s also another layer here: the imagery Romeo uses for Juliet (the sun) and that Juliet uses for Romeo (the moon) is the inverse of how imagery was typically presented in those days. The moon was feminine; the sun, masculine. Even if we look at Romeo and Juliet’s respective character traits, Romeo is the flighty, impulsive, love-struck one who cries all the time, while Juliet is the decisive, bold, and loyal one. That’s the first thing Juliet declares to Romeo in the balcony scene: that she will always be loyal, and she shows this in every choice she makes in the story.

In other words, Shakespeare was deliberately playing with gender and its stereotypes in the play, which gains an even more interesting layer to it when you consider that Shakespeare was himself almost certainly bisexual (his sonnets are preeeetty explicit). It’s not a patriarchal narrative; it can well be seen as a queer narrative in a patriarchal society. And it shouldn’t take two kids having to kill themselves to get society to realize how effed up it is. It isn’t an out-of-touch play, but instead one extremely relevant to our society 500+ years later. 

But, Romeo and Juliet’s story is also one of hope. Because instead of no one listening, finally, Montague and Capulet realize how wrong they’ve been. They grieve together, and Capulet vows to let Romeo remain in his family’s tomb, by Juliet’s side (also different, you know, that the husband stays in the wife’s tomb). Montague vows to build a statue for Juliet:

For I will raise her statue in pure gold, That whiles Verona by that name is known, There shall no figure at such rate be set As that of true and faithful Juliet.

Gold is associated with the masculine as well; silver with the feminine. She is remembered as someone “true and faithful,” aka for her loyalty and bravery. 

But no statue can bring Juliet back. She was not an idol, and it’s tremendously unfair that that is all she can become now. Same for Romeo. Even so, the fact that their deaths have finally brought peace to the city means that there is life growing from their deaths. They will never be able to birth a family of their own, but the city will grow and live, because of them. 

[rax-writes]

Romeo & Juliet

Fandom:  Stranger Things Pairing:  Steve Harrington x Reader Warnings:  None Notes:  Shoutout to my dear friend @mxgyver​ for the inspiration ♥

You had been best friends with Steve Harrington since you’d arrived at Hawkins Elementary in the fifth grade. A kid named Kevin had been bullying him on the playground, and although Steve had been doing his best to ignore the asshole, you found yourself incapable of doing the same. Kevin had intentionally screwed up the science project you’d been working that morning, purely because he thought it’d be funny to torment the new kid, and in the moment, you were so upset that you said nothing. The anger set in after he’d already walked off, laughing to his buddies about what he’d done. So, seeing him bully another innocent person made your blood boil, and before you knew it, you were chucking the basketball in your hands as hard as you could at the back of Kevin’s head.

Kevin flew forward from the unexpected impact, landing flat on his chest on the cement, which knocked the wind out of him. Steve’s jaw dropped as he looked from Kevin to you, meanwhile the ball rolled back over to you, and you picked it up to tuck it under your arm. When Kevin sat up and spun around to locate the culprit, the agitation on his face turned to fear as he locked eyes with you. Apparently the sheer rage in your 11 year old eyes did the trick to let him know you meant business.

“Look, Kevin, I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. But I do know that you’re just some jerk who thinks it’s fun to be mean to people for no reason. You’re a bully. And one thing you’ll learn about me is that I don’t like bullies. So, you really ought to be nicer to your classmates, or you’ll have me to deal with.”

The boy hesitated a moment, before he realized his friends were watching him, obviously expecting him to retaliate. He stood, then crossed his arms as he sneered at you, “Oh yeah? And what are you going to do about it?”

Whack!

The basketball hit Kevin square in the nose as he stumbled backwards, hands covering his face as he cried out in pain.

“That. That’s what I’m going to do about it.”

“You’re crazy!” Kevin yelled over his shoulder, as he ran off, his friends close behind.

“Yeah, and don’t you dare tattle on me, or a bloody nose of yours will be the least of your concerns!” you hollered, watching them retreat to the other side of the playground.

“Thanks for that,” Steve piped up then, and his tone seemed to be a mix of gratitude and bewilderment.

Shrugging, you explained, “Honestly, I mostly did it because he ruined my science project this morning. But also because I do really hate bullies.”

“Whatever the reason, I appreciate it,” Steve said with a chuckle. “Well, you’re obviously pretty good with a basketball. Wanna play HORSE?”

----------

That was 7 years ago, and Steve had been your best friend ever since. All through the remainder of elementary, middle school, and high school, the two of you had been inseparable. The two of you had shared a ton of fun and crazy adventures, as well as some hard times, and you were there for each other through it all. He had shown up on your doorstep 20 minutes after you called and told him about your boyfriend cheating on you, with a tub of ice cream in one hand and a Disney movie VHS in the other. Similarly, you had been there for him about three months ago, when Nancy Wheeler broke his heart.

You’d have never admitted it, but as you got older, you slowly began to realize that you liked him as more than a friend.

For years, you had pushed those feelings to the back of your mind. It didn’t matter how much you liked him; keeping Steve as your best friend was your top priority. You wouldn’t risk losing that. But, on one fateful evening, you found that you could no longer ignore how in love with him you’d fallen.

Your teacher was making your class do a miniature version of Romeo and Juliet as a senior project. Everyone had voted you and Steve as the leads, because you had such good chemistry – despite the fact that you’d spent ages telling people that you were just friends. And of course, the teacher wanted to include the scene where Romeo and Juliet kiss. You and Steve had both tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn’t budge. So, that’s what led to your current situation: sitting in Steve’s living room on a Wednesday night, a short distance separating you on the couch, practicing your lines.

“O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair,” Steve recited, then ran a hand over his face. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“Hell if I know,” you muttered, sounding equally as confused as him, before continuing. “Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.”

“Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take,” Steve said, then paused and cleared his throat. “And, uh… this is the part where they kiss.”

You could feel his eyes on you, but you kept your eyes glued to the script in your lap, not wanting to meet his gaze.

“Yep… so it is.”

“Do you… should we...?” Steve trailed off, then exhaled slowly, as if calming himself. “We could practice that part too… if you wanted?”

You looked up at him with wide eyes, and he backpedaled immediately.

“Actually, that’s a bad idea. That would be so weird. I honestly don’t even know why I said that. Forget this ever happened,” he rambled, waving a hand in the air exasperatedly.

“I mean…” you began softly, still looking at him despite the fact that he was now staring at the floor. “Ms. Myer made it clear that she wants us to stay true to the script. So we might as well get it over with now, rather than in front of the whole class.”

Steve glanced at you, and the two of you shared a few moments of eye contact before he exhaled again.

“No, yeah, you’re right. We should totally get it over with now. After all, it’s just for the play, right?” Steve said, with feigned nonchalance, and you nodded.

“Exactly! So we should just kiss now, rather than kiss for the first time in front of the entire class. But it’s totally not weird at all, since it’s just for the play. Obviously doesn’t change the fact that we’re friends.”

“Best friends!” Steve agreed earnestly, then ran a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath. “Alright, so, take two…. Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.”

Your eyes had been on your script when you felt his gentle fingers tilt your chin up to look at him. The two of you stared into one another’s eyes for a few moments, before Steve leaned in and pressed his lips against yours.

It was beyond everything you’d ever dreamed of – and you had definitely dreamed about it on more than one occasion. His lips were soft and sweet, and you instinctively leaned into him. But, far too soon for your liking, Steve pulled away, although only slightly. His face remained mere inches from yours, as he stared at you with an expression you couldn’t read.

“Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged,” he whispered, after a quick glance at the paper in his hands.

“Then have my lips the sin that they have took,” you responded breathlessly.

“Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged,” Steve responded, his voice still soft, before looking down at your lips. “Give me my sin again.”

You met his lips without hesitation as he bent down to kiss you once more, and his hand moved from your chin to cradle the back of your head, fingers burying themselves in your hair. Steve dropped the script to the floor, and moved his newly-freed hand to rest on your waist, as your own hands clutched the front of his shirt. The whole thing felt like a daydream, and in the moment, a white-knuckle grip on his shirt served as a way to ground yourself, a reminder that this was actually happening.

The kiss lasted far longer this time, his lips moving slowly and methodically against yours. After what felt like an eternity, you both broke the kiss to catch your breaths, and you realized then that your back was now against the couch and he was leaned over you, enveloping you in his embrace.

Steve rested his forehead against yours, breathing heavily – both from how long the kiss had lasted, and from the adrenaline of the fact that he’d just made out with his best friend.

“God, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Steve whispered, then leaned back to get a better look at you. You smiled warmly at him.

“Ditto.”

“Why didn’t you then?!” Steve asked, surprised as a grin formed on his lips.

“I could ask you the same thing!” you retorted, laughing.

“Fair enough,” he conceded, matching your laugh. As your laughter faded, he grew more serious, although he still wore a small smile. “Truth is, I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you. At the time, I didn’t really have any close friends, so I just really wanted to be friends with you. Plus, I thought you were super cool, so I felt like you were out of my league,  ya know, romantically.”

“You thought I was cool?” you asked with a chuckle.

“Of course I did! You were the first person to ever stand up to Kevin Matthews, and you did it on your fourth day at our school!”

The two of you shared more laughter, before he added, “Obviously, now I know you’re actually a giant nerd, so the coolness has worn off.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Anytime,” Steve replied, then scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “So, I guess you kind of feel the same way then, huh?”

“I suppose,” you teased, and he smiled. “I didn’t fall for you when I first met you, though. I don’t know exactly when I did…. I think it was freshman year. I remember watching your first baseball game of the season, and thinking you looked really hot in the uniform, especially when you ran over to me in the bleachers, all excited after you’d hit a home run. You were a little sweaty and your hair was messy and god, you looked so good. Then, a week or two later, I watched you flirt with some girl, and I remember getting really mad about it but couldn’t understand why. It took me like three days to realize it was jealousy, and that I’d caught feelings for you. The feelings only got stronger over time, and eventually, I realized I was in love with you. But I was too scared of losing you as a friend to do anything about it.”

“The toughest girl I know, scared of losing me?” Steve quipped, placing his hand on his chest and giving you an exaggeratedly shocked look. You rolled your eyes.

“Only because I love you, smartass.”

Steve grinned brightly, then resumed his previous position, looming over you on the couch as his arm wrapped around your shoulders and the other rested on your waist once again. His lips hovered over yours before he said, “I love you, too,” and kissed you.

The two of you spent the rest of the night just like that: making out on the couch, making up for lost time, the play now long forgotten.

[thatsamericano]

Palm to Palm is Holy Palmers’ Kiss

Pairing/Characters: America/Romano. Hungary, Ancient Greece, and Canada are mentioned.

Genre: Fluffy high school human AU. No warnings. Teen-rated for minor cursing and mildly suggestive making out.

Word Count: 2154

Notes: Written for the Day 2 prompt “hand kiss” on @hetaliancupid-hetaliaevent. The title is taken from a scene in Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, which is also quoted in the fic.

Summary: Alfred needs help rehearsing his lines for the school production of Romeo and Juliet, and his best friend Savino agrees to help him. But the fact that Alfred is playing Romeo and Savino is reading Juliet’s lines makes things complicated, especially since they’re rehearsing the first kiss scene.

“Hey, Vinny, do you mind helping me rehearse my lines a little? I’m supposed to start rehearsals with Erzsébet tomorrow, and I want to make sure I have them memorized by then.”

Savino glanced up from the math homework he’d barely started and saw his best friend Alfred standing there with a hopeful grin, sky blue eyes twinkling behind his glasses, and an opened script book held in his hands. For his own well-being, Savino should have refused and told Alfred he was too busy to help him read lines. Alfred was starring in the upcoming school play as the male lead in Romeo and Juliet, and Erzsébet was playing his love interest. The last thing Savino needed was to torture himself by reading romantic lines to his best friend and secret crush when he would never have the guts to say anything romantic to him in any other context. But, unfortunately for him, Savino had never been good at refusing Alfred, especially when he pulled out the puppy dog eyes.

Savino frowned as he shoved his math book, his pencil, and the sheet of notebook paper he’d been using into his messenger bag. “I’ve got a lot of other shit to do, so I’ll help, but not if it’s gonna take too long.”

Alfred bounced over and plopped down on the couch next to him. “Don’t worry, dude. I just need you to help me with this one scene.” Alfred passed the script over to him. “My lines start at the top of page 15.”

Savino gulped when he saw that Alfred wanted him to rehearse the fucking kissing scene from Act 1. Jesus Christ. That was worse than the goddamned balcony scene.

He quickly glanced over Alfred’s shoulder just to make sure they were alone in the student lounge. Rehearsing this scene with Alfred would be embarrassing even without witnesses, but Savino couldn’t stand for them to have an audience.

Alfred abruptly grabbed his left hand, and Savino quickly glanced down at the page to make sure Alfred was reading his lines correctly. “If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss,” Alfred said. He read the lines perfectly, with a sincere, lovestruck tone that was appropriate to the scene. No wonder he had been cast as the lead in the school play.

Alfred bent his head down to brush a feathery kiss over Savino’s knuckles, and Savino trembled. Alfred wasn’t the best at picking up on the subtleties of body language, but Savino wasn’t being subtle, so Alfred noticed right away. He gave Savino a worried look. “Are you okay? I’m sorry if this is weirding you out. I wouldn’t normally kiss your hand, but I’m supposed to kiss Juliet’s hand according to all the movie versions of this I’ve seen. And I think it will be easier for me to remember my lines if I stay in character.”

“It’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting it, that was all.”  It wasn’t fine, but not for the reasons Alfred believed. Savino knew he wouldn’t be able to stop daydreaming about that simple hand kiss for weeks.

He cleared his throat and read Juliet’s responding lines out loud. “Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this, for saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.” His delivery was much more awkward than Alfred’s had been, but Savino wasn’t an actor and had never claimed to be.

Alfred shifted his hand a little so that their palms were touching. “If touching our palms together is kissing, what’s lacing our fingers together? Making out on the couch?”

Savino narrowed his eyes and tried to push the thought of them ignoring the script and making out on the same couch they were sitting on to the back of his mind. “Idiota, you know that isn’t the line.”

Alfred shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly. “I know. I was just wondering. The metaphor doesn’t really hold up, in my opinion.”

Savino rolled his eyes, and Alfred got back into character. He gave him a coy look, like he was trying to flirt. “Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?”

Savino quickly glanced down at the script book to read his next line. “Ay pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.”

“O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.” Alfred inched closer to him on the couch, like he was preparing to kiss him, and Savino couldn’t help stammering a little as he read his reply.

“S-saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.”

Alfred let go of his hand to cup his cheek, which had heated up, no thanks to all the blushing he was doing. “Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.”

Alfred started to lean in, and Savino leapt off the couch, dropping the script book in the process. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! I agreed to help you read lines, not kiss you, you stupid stronzo!” Under different circumstances, he would be thrilled to kiss Alfred. But he was not going to help Alfred rehearse how he planned to kiss another person. Savino may have had a problem going along with Alfred’s whims even when he shouldn’t, but he wasn’t an emotional masochist. Kissing Alfred when it wouldn’t mean anything was more pain than he was willing to put himself through.

Alfred pouted up at him. “Dude, Mrs. Karpusi told me and Erzsi we don’t actually have to kiss. We just have to make it look like we’re kissing. That’s why I covered your cheek. So that when I leaned in and stayed about an inch away from your lips, it would look like we were kissing if we had been onstage.”

“Oh. That makes a lot of sense, actually.” Savino crossed his arms over his chest in an automatic attempt to shield himself since he was embarrassed by his own overreaction. Of course Alfred wouldn’t try to kiss him. He’d never even want to kiss him.

Alfred sighed. “I’m sorry I freaked you out. I wouldn’t try to kiss you just because I’m rehearsing a play. I know you don’t see me like that.” His body had slumped as he talked, and he was glancing over at the vending machine instead of making eye contact. His entire demeanor seemed despondent, and his mood seemed to be caused by something bigger than the fact that his best friend had just accused him of doing something he’d never even think of doing.

No, Savino thought to himself. That wasn’t possible. Unless…

“Do… do you want me to see you that way?” As soon as he asked the question, Savino wished he hadn’t. He immediately expected Alfred to laugh and tell him he was being ridiculous, but instead, Alfred sniffled and rubbed at his eyes.

“I wasn’t gonna tell you,” Alfred confessed quietly. “I figured, what was the point? It’s not like I have any clue what I’m doing when it comes to this stuff. I never even liked anybody before you, much less kissed anyone or gone on a date. You could have anyone at this school, except for the lesbians and straight guys. Why the hell would you want a dumbass like me?”

Savino sat back down on the couch. “You’re not a dumbass. At least not because you’re inexperienced and feel like you don’t know what you’re doing. Everyone feels like that sometimes. But you are a dumbass for thinking that you not having a relationship before would make me not want to be with you.”

Alfred smiled weakly. “You don’t have to be nice to make me feel better. I wasn’t expecting you to feel the same way.”

“I’m not being nice! I’m not a fucking nice person! I’m trying to tell you that I like you too! I jumped away when I thought you were gonna kiss me only because I couldn’t take you kissing me when it wouldn’t have meant anything!” It probably wasn’t fair for him to explode on Alfred like that, but, God, Savino was so frustrated.

“Oh.” Alfred grinned for real this time, completely unfazed by the fact his friend had just been yelling at him. “Really?”

Savino nodded. “Yes.”

“Wow, I wasn’t expecting this to happen.” Alfred blushed and fidgeted with his hands, uncharacteristically shy. “If I had kissed you, it would’ve meant something to me. Not just because it would’ve been my first, but because it’s you. You’re really special to me, Vinny.”

“You—you’re really special to me too, caro.” Savino was nowhere near as suave as he would normally be in this kind of situation. He had more romantic experience than Alfred, but when he was around his best friend, he felt like a little kid experiencing a crush for the first time.

“Would it be okay if I kissed you now? I mean, we don’t have to, but I really want to.”

“I want that too.”

“Awesome.” Alfred started to lean down towards him, and Savino’s eyes fell shut in anticipation.

Alfred obviously wasn’t an experienced kisser. He started very hesitantly, at least until Savino began to reciprocate. Then, he pressed his lips into Savino’s in a clumsy, overeager way that made Savino’s heart soar. When Savino attempted to deepen the kiss, Alfred tried to do the same thing, and their teeth knocked together.

Savino pulled away with a pained grimace. “Ow.”

Alfred winced. “Sorry. But uh, before I hurt your teeth, was I any good?”

“You were amazing,” Savino answered honestly. “You shouldn’t doubt yourself so much.”

“You were amazing too. I mean, I knew it would probably feel good, but I didn’t know it would feel like that. My mouth felt super tingly, and my heart was beating so fast I thought I was gonna pass out. Getting to kiss you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Savino was flattered by Alfred’s effusive, unprompted praise. “Grazie. Um, if I kiss you again, do you think you can stay relatively still?”

“I can try.” That was a good enough answer for Savino, and he leaned up to initiate a second kiss.

This time, Alfred kept his head still enough to prevent any more teeth-related accidents. But the way he moaned into the kiss wasn’t remotely saint-like, and neither was the way he buried his hand in Savino’s curls. Savino certainly wasn’t a saint himself.

When he needed to breathe, Savino reluctantly ended the kiss and laid a gentle peck on Alfred’s lips before shifting back on the couch. Alfred blinked at him dazedly, and his kiss-swollen lips stretched into a goofy grin.

“Damn, Savi. I was really excited about holding your hand earlier, but kissing you was way more intense than the holy palmer’s kiss thing Juliet talked about. Way, way more intense.”

Savino snorted. “Speaking of the play, do you still need to rehearse your lines?”

“Nah, I think I’m good. But if we go back to my dorm room, maybe we can rehearse the kissing thing some more.” Alfred winked in a cheesy, incredibly ridiculous manner. Part of Savino felt amused, but mostly he felt warm all over.

“What about your brother?” It would be incredibly awkward if Matthew was there when they got to Alfred’s dorm room.

“Mattie’s got hockey practice today, so he won’t be back for hours. We should get plenty of time alone.”

Savino helped Alfred find the script book he had dropped earlier, and he took the hand Alfred extended towards him as they left the student lounge. Alfred hummed to himself with a content expression on his face as they left the building and started heading back towards the student dorms.

“You look really happy,” Savino remarked softly.

“Why wouldn’t I be happy? I’m with you. Wait, I am with you, right?”

Savino squeezed Alfred’s hand before he could start to doubt how Savino felt about him. “Don’t worry, you are.” They might not have defined what their relationship was yet, but Savino was willing to be with Alfred in whatever way he wanted.

“Then I’m happy that I’m with the hottest guy in the world. I bet all the people around me are super jealous right now.”

Savino wasn’t paying much attention to the other students walking around in the quad, but he doubted they were all jealous of Alfred. Many were probably confused or curious, and others were certainly jealous of Savino right now.

Savino smirked smugly at a girl who looked irritated when she spotted them together and leaned into Alfred’s side. “I think they’re jealous of both of us, tesoro. They have good reason to be. And for the record, I’m happy too.”

[babypink-cowboy]

[Selfish] [P.2]

[Selfish] [P.1]

Summary: Prince Jeon Jungkook has been preparing to become king for the last 3 years of his life. While Jungkook feels as he has a good head on his shoulder, shows concern for his people, and tries his best to be a fitting substitute for his father, he can’t but feel lonely. 

With his father’s condition getting worse, Jungkook will now face his very soon reality of becoming king. Fully prepared to take on the weight of leading the Kingdom of Busan, until he meets his little sister’s new tutor. You were the kind of person that couldn’t help but be thought of all the time. So much so that he begins to lag behind on his royal duties.

But what about what happened during Princess Dae’s birthday celebration? Or how now you can’t keep Jungkook out of your head, even with the impending fate of him marrying someone else, you can’t seem to shake him.

Pairing: Prince!Jungkook x Tutor!Reader

Words: 4.8k 

           “Can I kiss you?” Jungkook asks, your heart sputters and your eyes widen.

           The prince wants to kiss me? Did I hear that right?

You lean towards him, standing on your tip toes, brushing your lips against his. “I would like that-“            

           “YOUR HIGHNESS!” An older man bursts out onto the balcony, you and Jungkook separate. The man’s suit slightly crumpled and he out of breath, “It’s your father, he’s collapsed.” You look at Jungkook, his face earlier was relaxed and calm, now it’s rattled with worry and stress.

           “Lead me to him, Beomseok,” he tells the older man, Jungkook turns to you, “I’m sorry to cut this short, miss Y/N,” he tells you and bows. Before you can thank him for the short evening you two had already had, he was gone. Brushing back into the castle and out of reach.

_

           “Thank you for walking me back to my room, Your Highness,” you thank the princess.

           “It’s perfectly fine, it is the most royal thing to do,” Dae says as you both walk down the halls. “And please stop calling me your highness, just call me Dae,” she tells you.

           You laugh a little, “Is this a royal sibling thing? Never wanting to be formally addressed?” you jokingly ask.

           Dae laughs too and nods, “It seems so, but I think it’s because we want to feel a little normal,” she tells you, sounding a little far away with her final comment.

           “You looked very lovely tonight, Dae,” you tell her to try and change the subject.

           The young royal smiles widely, “You think so? I had been looking for a dress like this for a while and then one day at one of the fittings, there it was, just sitting in the back,” Dae chatters on about her dress and what she picked for it to make it look extra beautiful.

           “You also looked lovely tonight, Y/N,” Dae compliments you, “It seems my brother also thought so,” she pushes. You smile and look at her, the little mischievous smile painting her mouth.            

           “What are you doing, Dae?” you tease, smirking back at her.

           She feigns innocence, “Oh nothing, just seems like Jungkook was having a good time at the celebrations for once, never seen him like that before,” she tells you. You know that these are just little pieces she is laying out for you to pick up and hold onto later. Something to marvel and think about later tonight.

           “Oh, we’re here already?” Dae says as you pause in front of your door, you nod and open the door.    

           “You will be okay going back?” you ask her and she nods.

           “Of course, I will be, goodnight,” she tells you and bows and leaves. You watch the girl walk down the hall until she becomes smaller and smaller until you can no longer see her. You close your door and lean against it. You can help the smile that breaks out onto your face.

           He wanted to kiss me. ME.

           You cannot help but laugh at yourself a little as you wrap your arms around yourself. You stand and sway side to side, trying to recreate the memory of Jungkook’s arms around you, what it’s like to dance with him, what he smelled like, how his voice sounded. You let yourself wonder to when he thought you could not tell that he was looking at you, taking in every piece of you as if you were going to disappear.

           You remember how his nose grazed your bare shoulder, you felt as if you might burn in the middle of the dancefloor. His hand on your cheek, his lips barely on yours, the tight warmth in your chest from earlier begins to bloom again.

           “You seem lonely, Your Highness.”

           “I think I am.”

           Your heart sinks a little. The way his face looked as you danced, he seemed so far away, but when you said his name he came right back. Jungkook isn’t sure if he’s okay, you don’t think he could be, but he so good at putting up that front. A front that has probably been built on top of for years now, no wonder no one can see through it. Everyone but Dae, and now maybe even you.

           You know you shouldn’t hold onto this, this small coin of hope. You don’t know what will come of this, but this is the first time you’ve felt enthralled about being the castle. Teaching is something you’ve always dreamed of, so getting to come to castle to tutor the princess was a high honor. Every day you have felt a weight of high expectations. You were from one of the outer villages, poorer than the rest but somehow you made it here. Now, the child of cattle farmers tutors the youngest royal and has the eyes of the other. Even with the uncertain future of where this little relationship could go, you still slip that small coin into your pocket, and in the back of your head you are wishing for it to multiple.

_

“ ‘Juliet: Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.’ ”

“ ‘Romeo: O, then, dear saint, lets lips do what hands do! They pray; grant thou; lest faith turn to despair.’ ”

“ ‘Saints do not move, though grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.’ ”

“ ‘Then move not while my prayer’s effect I take. Thus from my lips, by thine sin is purged.’”

“He kisses her,” you read, Dae’s expression is in complete focus, her back still perfectly straight but her hands are gripping the other with the strength of a vice. You glance at your watch, a gift from your mother that came in this morning, it’s 11. There is no Jungkook.

You smile sadly, “That is all for today,” you tell the young royal.

Her face drops, mouth pops open, “What? That’s all?” she asks you, her posture still unaffected.

           “Dae, do you have your own copy?” you ask her.

           She nods, “Yes, I do.”

           “So,” you begin, “why don’t you just read it yourself?” you finish.

           Dae looks down a little and plays with the layers in her gown. “Well, I like it better when you read,” she confesses.

           “And why is that?” you ask while putting the book away and checking to see if you remembered your lunch this time or if you forgot again.

           “Your voice is so much more prettier than mine, even though I’ve only begun my speech classes, I feel like I’ll never sound as pretty as you,” she tells you, her eyes still watching her fingers mess with the skirt of her dress.

           “Dae,” you say looking up and out of your bag, “You have a wonderful voice, I remember when I was younger every little girl wanted to be you, they wanted to look like you, dress like you, sound like you,��� you tell her. Dae looks up with a small smile on her face, “You should know that you’re remarkable, your highness.”

           Dae smiles a little more. “Thank you,” she tells you. “Now go to lunch.”

           You laugh and grab your bag, you wave Dae goodbye, even though you will see each other within the hour. With your bag on your shoulder you head out of the library and towards the garden, with it finally being spring and warm again you can’t resist the temptation of being outside. A few minutes of walking brings you to the entrance, the guards recognize by now and open the door as you walk near.

           You nod as thanks and begin your walk around the garden. Bees are just now making an appearance, bumbling and bumping to the flowers. The butterflies are slowly making their way out, just little white and yellow ones fluttering about. It’s peaceful, this little stroll had become a part your everyday routine. When you’ve walked around for a bit, you sit on one of the benches and take off your shoes. With your shoes and socks hanging off of your fingers you walking in the grassy area of the garden, wiggling your toes into the thin blades. You finally settle onto a patch, crisscross your legs and pull out your lunch. You search through your bag, looking for the book you were reading for yourself, rice ball in your mouth and head in your bag.

           “Are you alright, Y/N?” a voice asks.

           You whip your head out of your bag, it’s Prince Jungkook, “Oof, M’ fif-“

Take the rice ball out of your mouth.

You tentatively take your lunch out of your mouth, “I mean to say, I’m fine,” you finally tell him. Jungkook smiles and lightly laughs.      

           “Well I only ask because you seem to be looking through your bag quite aggressively,” he tells you.

           You laugh, “ah, I was looking for my book, but I can’t seem to find it,” you tell.

           The little coin of hope in your pocket suddenly feels heavy as Jungkook watches you, “Would you mind if I stayed here with you?” he asks you. You feel yourself blush, the memory of dancing close to him hits you a little hard, leaving you a bit dazed. “Y/N, are you alright?” Jungkook asks, his face ghosted with concern.

           You shake your head a little, “Yes, I’m alright, please stay,” you tell him.

           “Thank you,” he tells as he settles down next to you.

It’s quiet, but it’s not awkward, thankfully. You silently offer him half of your lunch, he shakes his head, but you shake it a little at him. Jungkook smiles and nods, he takes one of the rice balls and pops it in his mouth.

           “Good thing I made them smaller today,” you say after you finish swallowing. Jungkook laughs and takes a piece of your seaweed and munches on it. “Can I ask why you’re not with Dae today?” you question.

           Jungkook nods and tentatively takes another strip of seaweed, “She said that she wanted to read,” he tells you. “She also told me that you would be here, so…” he trails off.

           “So, you came to stalk me?”

           “I’m pretty sure stalking is a lot less consensual,” he tells you, bumping his knee with yours.

           “I don’t hear any denial,” you say, smirking at him, your lunch forgotten in your lap. “So, the prince is a stalker, and a stalker of his little sister’s tutor, hm, who would’ve thought?” you tease him.

           Jungkook rolls his eyes playfully, “Would it be better if I got up and just stared at you from the entrance or even through one of the bushes?” he asks you, on the verge of laughing.

           “I mean it would make you a better stalker.”

           “I AM NOT A STALKER,” he playfully shouts. All staff and guards turn and look your way.

           You blush but can’t help when the giggles bubble over, Jungkook joins too and soon both of you are laughing until your stomachs hurt.

           “I don’t think you’re a very good stalker, Your Highness,” you say in between laughs.

           “And what makes you say that?” he asks you, holding his hand over his stomach.

           “Because,” you say as you finally catch your breath, “stalkers know how to be quiet,” you tell him. You let out a long happy sigh and lay down in the grass. You shove your hand into your bag and somehow you pull out your book.

           You open to where you last left off, “What is it that you are reading?” Jungkook asks, trying to get a good look at the cover.

           “It’s Jane Eyre, it’s a Victorian novel,” you tell him, “would you like me to read to you too?” you ask him.

           “Too?” he asks.

           You flip your book onto its face and place it on your chest. “Dae likes it when I read to her, sometimes she’s just like a little kid,” you tell him. “So, would you?” you ask him.

           Jungkook taps his finger against his cheek, feigning to think hard, “I don’t know, what’s it about?” he asks you.

You put your hands behind your head, just to make it a little easier to look at him. “Well, it’s about this woman, Jane and she becomes a governess to this man, Mister Rochester’s, daughter, they fall in love and try to get married-“

           “Try?”

           “Hush and you will find out.” You tell him, “then, well, maybe I shouldn’t go there, I have read it before and I don’t want to spoil it,” you finish, slightly biting your lip.

           Jungkook looks to be in actual thought now but he starts nodding his head. “It sounds interesting,” he says and makes his way onto his back and lays next to you. “Can you pick up where you left off?” he asks.

           You realize now that it’s seems very possible to pop with joy.

_

           For the last 3 days, you and Jungkook have laid out in the grass of the garden as you read Jane Eyre. You act as if you don’t notice Jungkook’s eyes following the shape of your lips more than the words on the page. You try not to grab his hand every time it comes close to yours. You especially try not to think about him after he walks you back to the library or when you go back to your room or during anything.

           “ ‘Had you ever experience of such a character, sir? Did you ever love such an one?’  

           ‘I love it now’

           ‘But before me: if I, indeed, in any respect come up to your difficult standard?”

           ‘I never met your likeness.” You read, Jungkook’s breath coming in soft puffs near your ear. You hold the book in one hand and flip your wrist to face you, it was almost time to go back to Dae and you haven’t eaten yet.

           You tilt your head towards Jungkook, “I think this is a good place to stop today,” you tell him and close the book, sitting up and putting it back into your bag. “Would you like some of rice balls?” you ask him.

           “Yes, I would,” he tells you and sits up, almost leaning onto you as you pull out your lunch. His fingers come up and pluck one of your rice balls and a piece of seaweed and you both happily and quietly chew your food.

           A quick breeze brushes by, unlooping your hair from behind your ear and into your face. Before you could push it back, you feel Jungkook lean into your back and feel his fingers gently push your hair back behind your ear. Just the tiny bit of contact has made you full, you want to turn and look at him fully and tell him how you feel.            

           “Jungkook,” you say as you spin to face him. He’s looking at you with that baby soft look, the kind of look that you have found out in the last couple of days that melts you into you-sized puddles. It shrinks the wide words on your tongue to only their vowels. It makes you feel as if you are the only one meant to see this face, know this face, cause this face.

           “Yes?” he asks.

           You feel your cheeks warm, and drop your head but quickly pick it back up with a smile, “Thank you,” you tell him.

           You can’t tell him how you feel, even if it is mutual, he’s a prince, you’re a tutor, there is nothing meant to be here.

           “Anytime,” Jungkook tells you and stands, offers you his hand, you take it.

           You both walk back to the library silently, not a bad quiet, just a quiet that has a million sparks running in it but you’re both a little scared that if you look at the other, you both just might explode. As you come to the library doors, you expect Jungkook to tell you goodbye or that he will see you again soon, but he doesn’t.

           “Y/N,” he says, you turn to look at him. The young prince takes your hand and kisses it. “Will I see you tomorrow?” he asks.

           You feel like your chest just might burst open from how warm and tight it feels, you nod, “Yes, see you then,” you tell him.

_

           You feel that little coin of hope bump against your hip as you walk to the garden. Dae had to get your attention this morning you were so high up in the clouds. You were trying not to run, you know that nothing much will happen today, maybe he’ll lean against your back again, the weight of him against you is a heavy but it is welcomed. Or he’ll tuck a strand of your hair back behind your ear or bump his knee against yours. Or nothing at all will happen, you will just read to him and pretend like you don’t want him to lean over and hold your cheek like he did at the Dae’s birthday celebration and ask you again to kiss him. You only think of this because if Jungkook did do that, asked you for a kiss again, there would be no hesitation.

           Before you just saw him at the prince, the future monarch, someone who you had only seen and heard of. Even when you first met Jungkook, though you found him extremely attractive because anyone who had met him or even gotten a glimpse of him had always said that he was handsome. But you were up close, you could see the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, but he only smiled like that for Dae. You could see how he could in a crowed room but can appear as if he is not even there. You could tell that he was lonely and that he was used to it.

           That was something that bothered you as you settled into your pillow and sheets at night, that if there was affection between you and the prince, was it just because he was lonely? And not because he found you interesting or different? What if you just filled up a part of him that no one had fixed for him yet? Jungkook is 22, there should be some kind of arrangement to marry him to someone, right?

           You cannot seem to shake the thoughts from your head as you settle into the grass, now the marked place where you and Jungkook lay. You let your fingers play in the grass, trying to wiggle the worry out through your fingertips.

           “You seem deep in thought,” Jungkook says, suddenly popping out of no where.

           Your eyes quickly jump to his, Jungkook has already settled down next to you, it’s hard not to see what he’s wearing. Instead of his normal military like suit, today he is in cotton white long sleeved shirt, that are tucked into his beige pants and matching shoes. “I didn’t hear you,” you tell him, laughing a little to hide the thoughts in your head.  

           He can’t read your mind.

           “You’re dressed very casually today, what is the occasion?” you ask him, taking your eyes off of him and to your bag instead.        

           “My father wants me to meet some other diplomats today, we’ll be riding out on the horses,” he tells you as he lays down in the grass. You grab the book and settle down next to him, thumb on the page where you both left off from yesterday. Jungkook looks down at you, “Riding in a uniform is not very comfortable,” he tells you with a smile and a laugh.        

           You can’t help but laugh a little back, your head almost on his shoulder, “Can I ask why you are meeting them? Or is that prying?” you ask him. You watch as Jungkook’s eyes look away from your face and dart around the garden, your stomach drops a bit.

           He looks back at you, smile on his face, “Just another meeting, different setting,” he tells you. You nod and open the page to where you all had left off. You don’t remember reading, just moving your mouth as you scanned the pages. This time Jungkook didn’t ask you any questions, didn’t bump your knee. When you both sat up and opened your lunch, Jungkook declined, and you didn’t push. When he walked you back to the library, he only bid you goodbye, didn’t kiss your hand. He just bowed and said, “See you tomorrow?” to which you just nodded.

_

           Tomorrow came, but Jungkook didn’t.

           You still read however, nothing had ever kept you from reading, a guy definitely won’t be the first. Even if he is a prince. You ate your lunch, but didn’t finish because you made enough for two. You slightly were hoping that Jungkook was just hiding on you, somewhere in the garden waiting for you to spot him. Then you could call him ‘a decent stalker’ and he would laugh and probably say that it’s what he’s been practicing lately. But he wasn’t.

           Another day passed, you and Dae have finished Romeo and Juliet and decided to move on to another Shakespeare play, Othello. Jungkook still hadn’t shown up in the garden, not even in the bushes, you checked. Opening up Jane Eyre, you felt a small pit of guilt form in your stomach, you ignored it.

           If he can’t be here, then he can’t be here. I’m not going to stop what I like to do just because he’s not here.

           “He’s a prince,” you mutter under your breath, “He’s busy, and that’s okay.”

           It wasn’t okay.

           Another day passes and still no Jungkook, you were almost at the end of the book, you read faster when you’re not reading aloud. But coming to end of this book felt different from any other time you had read it, or any book at all for that matter. You couldn’t deny it, you felt guilty for not reading the rest with Jungkook. The little coin of hope you knew you shouldn’t have been carrying around was now too heavy to keep. You only wish it would go away, like you could actually hold it in your hands, and just hurl it off one of the towers. Or skip it across a stream. Or just lose it.

           As you walked back to the library, Dae came running up on you, “Y/N! WAIT!” she called. You turn to see her with confusion on your face.            

           “What are you doing out here? We have to go back to class-“

           “I can’t.” she tells you, out of breath. “A bunch of diplomats and other important people showed up and I have to greet them all, be a princess,” she tells you. “It’ll take a while, plus father wants me to sit in on the mid-day meeting today, he’s never asked me to do that before,” she says. “I guess Kookie could be getting married,” Dae says, a little sadly. She looks up at you, you hold yourself together, you aren’t going to cry, even though you can feel tears already pricking at your eyes. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” Dae tells you, but you just shake your head and put on a smile.

           “Sorry about what?” you ask her, a little surprised by your voice not cracking, “Go be a princess, we have tomorrow,” you tell her, bow, and leave before anyone can stop you.

           You stayed in your room, didn’t peek out at all, not even for dinner. When you came back to your room, tears had already begun to slip down your face. Opening the door, closing it opened up the floodgates. You just couldn’t stop crying, Jungkook wasn’t even yours, he was just the boy you read to in the gardens and who would lean into your back to steal a rice ball even though you made extra just for him. He would tuck your hair behind your ear and would bump his knee with yours and you would pretend not to notice how he stared more at your mouth than listened to it. Jungkook was the boy who could make you laugh until your stomach hurt, he could make you feel like the only person in the whole kingdom. You make it to your bed, collapsing into it and curling underneath it’s sheets.

_

           A knock on your door startled you, you bolted up in your bed. Your head was sore and a little sting-y from all of the crying. You still felt like you could cry more, remember more as you wake up. The knock came again, still scaring you as much as the first time, forgetting what had woken you up. You get up and shuffle to the door, opening it.

           And there he was. And it hurts.  

           You swallow hard, “Your Highness,” you address.

           Jungkook’s eyes soften as he makes his way to hold you, “Please, you know I don’t like being called-“ but as he pushes towards you, you pull back. “That.”

           “I remember,” you tell him, “But that’s who you are, Your Highness, a prince and you should be addressed as such,” you say. “Good night,” you close the door, but Jungkook stops it.

           “Please,” he tells you, “Just let me in,” he says.

           You lean your head against the door, gritting your teeth to try and keep the tears at bay.

           Don’t do it.            Don’t do it.            Don’t do it.

           You pull the door open again and Jungkook looks up at you, relieved, until he sees your tears. This time when he pushes towards you, you don’t pull back. You let the door close behind Jungkook as he takes you in his arms. You curl your arms around his neck and bury your face in his shoulder. You want to yell at him, tell him to go away, be cold, be distant, be an island.

           But you can’t. You won’t.

           Jungkook doesn’t let you go as you sob into his shirt, he just rubs your back and hold your head as he whispers “It’s okay, it’s okay.” Your breathing evens out and you pull away from Jungkook slightly, only to have him push toward you again. He looks at you, his eyes full with desperation, of want, of question.

           “I’ve asked you this before but, can I kiss you?” Jungkook asks you quietly.

           You nod your head, and you feel his lips against your cheeks, your jaw, anywhere your tears have gone. Jungkook brushes he nose against yours and you look at him, the warm, tight feeling returning, but not in your chest, but in your toes, fingertips, eyelashes and nose. Jungkook lays his lips close to yours, but they don’t touch, he grazes over your mouth before finally gives into you.

           Your heart beats at million miles a minute, you can hear it in your ears and you know Jungkook must feel it too. He leans into you, putting a little weight onto as you both begin to shuffle back to your bed. You both fall down, breaking your kiss for only a moment before Jungkook comes back again.

           He’s betrothed, you need to stop!

           But you won’t. You’ve waited, wanted this to happen for days on end, now it’s here.

           You lean back on the bed, Jungkook follows, he begins to kiss down your jaw and neck. He pulls down your shirt over your shoulder and kisses it too. He trails over your collar bones and back to your neck where he begins to leave little hickeys. You push your fingers into his hair and tug gently on it, he responds by a sharp kiss. Jungkook makes his way back up to your lips and presses them together before breaking away and hovering over you.

           His eyes flicker down then back up at yours, he swallows hard, “I’m sorry,” he tells you. “My father has begun to arrange marriages for Dae and I,” he says, and your stomach drops, your head begins to hurt again. Jungkook wipes your tears that begin to slip from your eyes before you even realized they did. “There isn’t anyone-“

           “Yet,” you interrupt. “There isn’t anyone yet,” you repeat hoarsely, you squeeze your eyes close and try to breathe. “I don’t even know why I keep crying,” you say, Jungkook’s own eyes begin to look glassy. You push the both of you up, you almost sitting on top of him. “You’re not even mine,” you tell him as you gently place your hands on your cheeks, your thumbs wiping away his now falling tears.

           “How can I be so selfish?” you ask, laughing a little, but Jungkook wraps his arms around you. “Falling in love with someone who isn’t, couldn’t be, mine?” you continue as he gently rocks you back and forth.

           Jungkook rests his head on your shoulder, you play with the end of his hair as you slowly weep. “You’re not the selfish one,” he says, “I am.”

[kaistarus]

Romeo & Juliet

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki & Reader

Word Count: 1.6K

Notes: This is what happens when you have a Shakespeare final and you just... don’t want it. You and Bakugou are rehearsing for the second cultural festival. Enjoy:)

It was a beautiful autumn afternoon. The sun was casting its rays through warm leaves that billowed in the breeze, dancing down as many of your friends helped set up for this year’s cultural festival, now just days away. It was a perfect day to be outside, breathing in the fresh air and just appreciating being alive.

Which was exactly why the world had you inside an auditorium with Katsuki Bakugou.

“You’re the one who agreed to be Romeo,” You stood across from him, script rolled tight in one hand while the other was placed on a popped hip. “If you can’t handle it then let Todoroki or Kirishima do it.”

           “I didn’t fucking know it was filled with this romantic shit,” he growled, twisting his own script, small crackles threatening to light it ablaze. You knew he was lying. Your curriculum covered Shakespeare last year and you vividly remember him complaining about the ‘romantic shit’. “Besides, I’m the best fucking actor in the class as if either of those morons could do this shit.”

You rolled your eyes. Just weeks ago, when the class had first decided to perform a play, Bakugou had no interest in helping with the production. It wasn’t until you and Todoroki were both head candidates for the lead roles that he started having an issue. Just when you thought you understand his will to be the best he went and tried to participate in plays for attention.

           “I have a feeling they’d be fine,” you mumbled, placing your script against your forehead, taking a calming breath. It didn’t help that you’d been at this for nearly an hour now. Every other classmate got was working together, but Bakugou couldn’t work in large groups—too distracted from Kaminari and Kirishima’s teasing. “Well, let’s start over. Again.”

           You really didn’t understand him. It was true that, like most things he did, he excelled at acting. He would be doing flawlessly, getting through the entire first part of the play with Kirishima and Kaminari, even able to remain in character during his acts with Midoriya. However, every time they got to the romance scene he broke down; right when you thought he’d be able to make it through; his face would scrunch up and he’d start swearing. If it was this hard for him to act like he liked you, you wished he would’ve just let someone else take the role.

           You waited for Bakugou to get into character. Eventually the angry boys face relaxed and he looked at you with determined crimson eyes that never failed to make your heart flutter.

           “If I profane with my unworthiest hand. This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand, to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.” He brought a gentle hand up to cradle your cheek, brushing his thumb along with it with measured delicacy. His eyes trailed down your face, landing on your pink-stained lips and with bated breath, you willed your heart’s beating to slow.

           “Good pilgrim,” you began, your small hand covering his large calloused one pressed against your cheek and bringing his attention back to your eyes. “You do wrong your hand too much, Which mannerly devotion shows in this, For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, And palm is holy palmers’ kiss.”

           You pulled away from Bakugou, bringing your hands to your chest with a pained expression. You tried to walk away, but Bakugou lightly grabbed your elbow and turned you back around. He held both your hands gently and close to his chest, pressing your foreheads together, ashy-blonde hair mixing with your own.

           “Have not saint’s lips, and holy palmers too?” Through hooded red eyes he gazed down at you, a piercing look so intense it took your breath away.

           “Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.”

           His eyes were focused on your lips, filled with such desire that part of you, a part that you desperately wanted to keep locked away, hoped it was more than an act. A hand, strong and calloused from years of explosions, slid back to your cheek as he spoke well-rehearsed lines.

           “O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray: grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.”

           “Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.” You gazed at him through thick lashes, midnight-blue flickered between his intense crimson gaze and his lips, though chapped, they never looked more inviting.

           “Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.”

           Bakugou leaned in and carefully, he pressed his lips against yours. Though your heart took off, you couldn’t deny you were a little disappointed; you had always imagined a kiss from him would hold more passion given his temper. It was short, soft, and everything the play needed, yet lacking everything you didn’t know you wanted. When he pulled away seconds after, your cheeks were tinted pink.

           “Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.” Bakugou said, breathlessly above a whisper. His eyebrows were knit, eyes flickering across your face for reasons you couldn’t fathom.

           “Then have my lips the sin that they have took.” You turned your head away from him, both from necessity and to remain in character. His fiery orbs, always filled with passion that you found inspiring, were becoming too much when his focus was solely on you. Unfortunately, Bakugou turned your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.

           “Sin from thy lips?” He said, hurt, suddenly capable of remaining in character. You were ashamed that after all your complaining, you were the one having difficulties. “O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.”

           Your eyes widened when Bakugou pulled you towards him for another kiss because this time, it wasn’t cautious, or careful, but instead, he felt desperate. The hand on your cheek slid to cradle your neck, tilting your head and giving him better access to your mouth. You felt your face warm as you wrapped your arms around his neck, temporarily forgetting the intention behind your kiss. Had Romeo & Juliet’s kiss been this passionate? You didn’t know if that detail was in their scripts.

           When a tongue ran along your bottom lip and an arm wrapped around the small of your back, tugging you flush against him, you had your answer: no. The scene was definitely not supposed to get this heated. So, when you opened your mouth, giving the explosive blonde permission to explore, you weren’t sure what that meant; or, frankly, if you cared. All you knew was that your heart was soaring, your legs felt like jelly, and he was a phenomenal kisser.

Actors were allowed creative liberty… right?

After several moments of clashing tongues, embarrassing noises and probably too rough tugs on ashy blonde hair, you pulled away from the boy’s grasp. If you allowed this to go on any longer, you were unsure if you’d ever stop, especially since Bakugou was starting to get cocky, kissing places elsewhere than your mouth, creating a whole new sensation that you didn’t want to explore right then.

You were taking deep breaths, trying to collect yourself. Then, you looked into Bakugou’s eyes, now dark and filled with desire, making you turn a deep red that rivaled his deep eyes.

           “Thou kiss by th’book.” You said between breaths, smirking. Bakugou looked at you confused, blinking several times.

           “W-What?” He said, scrunching his eyebrows. His eyes flashing down to your now red lips. His mouth quipped a quick smirk before he started to lean in again and your heart picked up speed.

           “Hey! Are you guys ready?” Kirishima’s voice rang loud through the auditorium.

           You quickly turned your head and shoved Bakugou away at the sound of Kirishima’s voice. He stumbled back, glaring. As if nothing had happened you, as casually as possible, hopped off the stage and jogged towards the red-haired boy.

“Uh-Yeah, we uh… just finished our scenes, so we’re ready to practice with everyone!” You clasped your hands together behind your back, an awkward grin plastered on your face. Kirishima smiled, nodding enthusiastically. He was dressed in theatre clothes, and you realized you and Bakugou must have been practicing longer than would be necessary. Your face warmed.

           “That’s good. Yaomomo was getting antsy you guys weren’t getting the part down,” he looked passed your shoulder where Bakugou was staring intently at a spot near his shoe. “You good, bro?”

           Bakugou grunted, stretching an arm above his head and staring lazily at the ceiling.

           “Alright, hurry up. Otherwise, Momo will have my head,” he started to leave, but then back stepped. “Oh, and fix your hair or everyone will know you were making out.” He added, snickering before he left the auditorium.

           Your hands flew to your head, you felt the strands that were once in place flipped and tangled. “We-We weren’t-” You started lamely but gave up since Kirishima was long gone.

           Bakugou snorted behind you, climbing off the stage and shoving his hands deep in his pockets. He walked towards you with his usual, I-don’t-give-a-fuck gate paired with a cocky smirk; you felt your blood start to boil.

           “This is your fault.” You accused, placing your hands on your hips, glaring him down as he advanced towards you. He raised an eyebrow, stopping when your chests were mere inches apart. He leaned closer, but you held your ground.

           “I didn’t hear you complaining a few minutes ago.” He smirked. “In fact, you sounded like you were rather enjoying yourself.”

           “Well,” you said, leaning forward till you felt his breath warm against your lips. “Guess you aren’t the best actor in the class after all.”

           You leaned back, winking before skipping out of the auditorium. He growled, exploding his crumpled script, letting the ashes fall before stomping your figure.

[jeserai]

"Everyone thinks we’re already dating, but we’re just best friends- oh wait" because this is adora

38. Everyone thinks we’re already dating, but we’re just best friends- oh wait

aka 5 times they were gay and didnt realize it, and the one time they finally realized

Catra can’t stop staring at Adora’s hair. She’d cut it boyishly short as the summer heat wore on and now the golden strands just barely curl against the back of her neck. Freckles dot the skin of her shoulders and neck and Catra kind of wants to connect the dots with her finger to see what constellations they’ll make, kind of wants to kiss each one to count them all. Either way, she doesn’t move.

1—

It’s been a longer day than usual and Catra is quite honestly exhausted, ready to get off campus and head home and sleep. She’s just getting to the car when her phone buzzes in her pocket, and usually, she’d ignore it—but it buzzes in the custom pattern she has for Adora, so she checks the message immediately and responds just as quick.

Adora: :(

Catra: gimme 15 min princess

Adora doesn’t respond, but she reads the message right away; so Catra pockets her phone and makes a quick detour to McDonald’s to get what she calls Adora’s Bad Day meal: a McDouble, medium fries, medium mango smoothie, and an apple pie. While she waits for the food, she tries to think of what could be wrong—and, oh. She probably got back the results on the test she’d studied so hard for recently. Knowing Adora, she did well too; she’s just so goddamn hard on herself sometimes.

When the food comes, Catra texts Adora again to let her know she’s on the way, then speeds home and finds Adora curled up in bed, eyes closed. “Hey, babe. Bad day?”

Adora nods and Catra sits down beside her, placing the food on the bedside table and waiting for Adora to sit up so she can wrap an arm around her and hold her close. Adora doesn’t speak, and Catra doesn’t push, just holds her safe and quiet until Adora decides she’s ready for words again.

2—

In her sophomore year, when Catra still lived in the dorms, she spent so much time at Adora’s that they joked that she was her third roommate. They walked home together after classes almost every day, studied together on the couch, had dinner and watched TV until passing out, curled under the thick fleece blanket Adora brought down from her room. By now, Catra has long since learned where all of the utensils and cooking supplies are kept, and where to put the blankets when they’re done with them, and most importantly, how to work the oven.

The first time Adora invites her up to her room isn’t until the end of the school year, and Catra doesn’t think it’s a big deal, until Bow barges in and ends up just staring with wide eyes at the sight of them sitting on opposite sides of the bed, each on their own laptops and enjoying the other’s silence.

“What is it, Bow?” Adora asks without looking up. Catra would be proud of how hard her friend is working if she didn’t already know that Adora had been online shopping for the past fifteen minutes.

“You—just. You have someone in your room. You never do that.”

“Yeah, well...Catra’s just special.”

“About time you admit it,” Catra grumbles, yelping as Adora kicks her. But Adora’s laughing, and that makes Catra smile too, and she doesn’t even notice the way Bow slips out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

3—

It’s almost Thanksgiving break of their junior year, and when Adora calls her mom to make sure someone remembers to pick her up from the train station, it’s Mara that answers. “Hey, brat,” she says, sticking her tongue out at the camera. Adora sticks her tongue out right back, trying not to laugh because she’s supposed to still be mad at Mara for hanging up on her after their last call.

“Where’s mama?”

“In the kitchen, making dinner for her favorite daughter, of course. Oh, tell Catra hi.”

From the floor, Catra calls out, “Hey, Mara,” and Adora ignores the way Mara is grinning at her now.

“Are you picking me up from the station, or should I ask mama?”

“Hm. I don’t know, I’ll be out—”

“I haven’t even said when I’m coming!”

Mara winks and then twists around, and Adora watches as she passes the camera to Razz, smiling wide at the sight of adoptive mother. “Hi, mama!”

“Oh, how are you, dearie?”

“I’m good—”

“I am too, Razz,” Catra interjects. Adora holds out the phone so Razz can see Catra, studying on the floor at her feet.

“C’yra! Are you coming home with Adora too?”

Very matter-of-factly, Catra says, “I don’t know, I wasn’t invited.”

“Of course you’re invited, dearie! You’re always welcome here, you know that!”

“I know, Razz, I was just teasing Adora—you know, she still hasn’t invited me?”

“What! Don’t put that on me, you—” Catra twists around and grins at Adora, and god, she’s never hated her more.

“I’m surprised she didn’t invite you, you’re all she ever talks about,” Mara cuts in.

“Oh really now?”

“Oh my god, Mara, shut up!”

“Be nice, Adora. Your sister is just telling the truth.”

Catra’s smile is absolutely devious at Razz’s words, and Adora feels her cheeks go pink as she asks what exactly Adora’s been talking about. Before Mara can begin to speak, Adora grabs her phone and hangs up.

“Not a word, or you’re uninvited.”

“You never officially invited me, so…”

Adora decides then that she absolutely hates Catra.

4—

The first time Catra comes home with Adora for break is...interesting, to say in the least. Razz is usually super chill with who stays over at the house, but she’s made up the spare room and told Adora in a stern voice that Catra will be sleeping in her room and that Adora will take the spare. Mara is home too; she and Catra take an immediate liking to each other, bonded over sharing embarrassing Adora stories and baby pictures. Even Razz falls for Catra quick, and Adora rolls her eyes with a smile every time her mom calls Catra “my dear” and piles more food onto her plate every night at dinner.

But she can’t say she’s any different; she shows Catra all around the town she grew up in, takes her to all of her old haunts: the ice skating rink, the movie theater by the river, the bowling alley that they used to celebrate Christmas at every year when she was growing up. She shows her the best ice cream place in town, and her high school, and they go on a whim to the new escape room that’s just popped up.

Catra loves all of it, but she especially loves teasing Adora with Mara, because of course she does.

“Adora, you never told me about your thing for horses,” she says one night after dinner. They’re curled up in Adora’s bed watching youtube videos on Catra’s laptop, Adora half asleep and not really paying attention. She keeps dozing off on Catra’s shoulder and shaking herself awake—the third time she woke up, she realized that Catra turned the volume way down low so as to not wake her.

“I did not have a thing for horses! Whatever Mara told you, she lied.”

“And I suppose she made up the Christmas letter you wrote Santa asking for a talking rainbow unicorn pegasus?”

Adora struggles to sit up, still sleepy, and Catra pushes her back down easily. “Relax, princess, I’m just teasing you. It’s cute—and if it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure I asked Santa to be able to turn into a cat so I could get away with not doing chores.”

After a moment, Adora lets Catra push her back down; she tries to settle down on the pillow Catra isn’t using, but her friend makes a disgruntled noise and guides her head back to her shoulder before unpausing the video.

Adora falls asleep like that, to Catra’s quiet breaths and warmth and the quiet drone of the video she’s watching. When she wakes up in the middle of the night, they’ve both been tucked in, and though she must be uncomfortable, Catra has left her there, head pillowed by her shoulder. It’s probably the best sleep Adora’s had in years.

5—

Adora meets Catra—officially—in her freshman English class.

They’ve been reading Romeo and Juliet for the past few weeks and today the teacher decides that since no one’s actually reading it at home, that they’ll read outloud, acting out the play to the best of their abilities. It feels very high schoolish, but Adora doesn’t mind so long as she doesn’t get a character with a lot of speaking parts.

So of course, she gets assigned Juliet.

The teacher assures those with large speaking parts that they’ll switch out every so often so that everyone gets a chance to read—they’ll switch every page or two.

The Romeo that speaks before Adora’s turn is Catra. She doesn’t know her name then; all she knows is that her Romeo slouches in her seat, has wild brown hair and reads in a monotone voice.

Until—

“Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?”

“Ay, pilgrim,” Adora says, and out of the corner of her eye, she sees her Romeo straighten and turn to look at her, “lips that they must use in prayer.”

All of a sudden, it’s like a new person reading. This time her voice comes out low and smooth, and Adora can practically hear her smirk as she says, “Oh then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do, they pray—grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.”

The glance her Romeo flashes her makes Adora’s cheeks go pink, and she’s read this play enough times to know what comes next, but she’s sure the way her voice shakes will just play into character more. “Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.”

“Then move not while my prayer’s effect I take,” and now her Romeo is standing, coming close to her, sitting easily on her desk as she leans in close to continue, “thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.”

And then, by the book, she kisses her.

(The whole class loves it, and Adora cannot stop blushing and sneaking glances at her Romeo for the rest of class. Whenever their gazes meet—which happens often—her Romeo just gives her that shit-eating grin again, and though the whole encounter shouldn’t matter that much, Adora finds herself intrigued. Especially since her Romeo just shrugs and tells the teacher that she was “just getting into character” when asked.

She finds out later that her name is Catra, and that despite the bold persona she put on for class, she’s actually quite shy and easily flustered. But she is warm, and familiar, and they get along so well that Adora is honestly surprised she hasn’t known Catra all her life.)

1—

Catra can’t stop staring at Adora’s hair. She’d cut it boyishly short as the summer heat wore on and now the golden strands just barely curl against the back of her neck. Freckles dot the skin of her shoulders and neck and Catra kind of wants to connect the dots with her finger to see what constellations they’ll make, kind of wants to kiss each one to count them all. Either way, she doesn’t move.

“You know what Mara asked me when she called yesterday?” Adora suddenly asks.

Catra startles and blinks; when she comes back into focus, she finds that Adora has rolled over to look at her. She’s got a faint smile on her lips, the one that she reserves solely for when Catra does something dumb, and after a pause for a beat too long, Catra remembers what Adora had said and asks, “What?”

“She asked me how you were doing. Or—no, she asked ‘how’s your girlfriend’, and when I said I didn’t have a girlfriend, she said she meant you.”

“Dork,” Catra mutters, and when Adora sticks her tongue out, Catra wiggles closer to her just to poke her forehead. “Tell your sister I’m doing good, if not dying in the heat.”

“We’ve only got two weeks left before we go home, you’ll live.” But Adora is frowning sympathetically at Catra’s curls, frizzy and wild from the oppressive heat. As much as they’re loving their vacation to Aruba, the heat is not doing it for either of them.

“Come here, I’ll—” Adora stands, brushing sand from her knees before sitting behind Catra. With a grumble, Catra sits up as well and closes her eyes as Adora begins to run her fingers through her hair, gently detangling it the best she can with her fingers. Once she’s satisfied, she begins to braid it—and she’s done this enough that the processes is over quick even with the thick unruliness of Catra’s hair. When she’s done, Catra leans back into her and like clockwork, Adora’s arms come round to wrap around her waist. Catra tries to ignore the way her back presses into Adora’s chest, tries to ignore the way Adora’s fingers are toying with the hem of her shorts, tries to ignore the way her heart is racing double time in her chest.

“I just thought it was funny, what Mara said.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, just…” Adora shrugs and rests her chin on Catra’s shoulder, “she’s not the only one that does that, you know. Everyone thinks we’re dating even though we’re just best friends, and I—”

Adora cuts herself off so abruptly that Catra reluctantly pulls away from her, turning around to look her in the eye. “And you what?”

Adora frowns, chewing on her lip as she thinks, and she reaches out blindly for one of Catra’s hands to hold as she thinks. Catra lets her, staying quiet and stroking her thumb across Adora’s knuckles; she knows that Adora needs time to think through and process whatever’s on her mind, that she’ll speak when she’s ready. So she waits. She’d always wait.

And finally: “And I...I think I kind of love you, in every way that there is to love.”

Oh.

“Are you going to...say something?” Adora asks. She seems hesitant, unsure, and god, of course she would.

“Adora, you’re...you know how I am with words, but. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything. I think I always will. I don’t know when I realized, but…” Catra shakes her head, giving up on words to just stare. Because Adora, her golden, summer-freckled, sun-burnt Adora, loves her. “We’ve known each other for only what, four years? But it feels like—”

“Forever,” Adora finishes. Catra reaches out just as Adora collapses into her, and on the summer beach in Aruba, they kiss for the second time. As Adora sighs against her lips and slots their fingers together, Catra thinks that this, this is the final puzzle piece, finally slipped into place.

(The next day, when Razz asks how Adora’s girlfriend is, Adora very smugly reports that she’s good. Catra finally lets herself kiss the beauty mark on Adora’s shoulder, and relaxes into her as Mara and Razz begin to interrogate her about what happened.

And finally, Catra realizes that this is what it feels like to finally come home.)

[ohisobel]

𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍   ,   @opalsmedia​ !!

she  finds  her  way  up  the  spiral  staircase  and  on  to  the  rooftop  ,  where  a  small  crowd  of  people  gather  .  isobel  ambles  towards  the  edge  of  the  ramparts  ,  to  bask  aglow  in  the  lights  of  the  grounds  below  .  someone  taps  her  on  the  shoulder  and  it's  niccolò  ,  from  her  acting  circle  ——  and  dressed  to  their  agreement  ;  the  silver  metal  is  almost  convincing  ,  and  he  has  an  eyebrow  raised  and  an  outstretched  hand  .  he  does  not  need  to  speak  for  isobel  to  know  what  he  asks  .  tonight  ,  he  is  romeo  and  she  is  juliet  ,  and  what  kind  of  actors  are  they  ,  if  they  won't  let  the  audience  partake  of  their  talent  ?  gladly  ,  juliet  ,  all  angel-winged  and  pristine  ,  takes  his  hand  like  she  would  acquiesce  to  a  request  for  a  dance  ,  and  their  scene  begins  .

"  if  i  profane  with  my  unworthiest  hand  this  holy  shrine  ,  "  he  starts  ,  and  they  circle  around  each  other  like  two  magnets  on  reverse  polarity  ,  drawn  by  their  likeness  and  likewise  torn  because  of  it  .  "  the  gentle  sin  is  this  .  my  lips  ,  two  blushing  pilgrims  ,  ready  stand  to  smooth  that  rough  touch  with  a  tender  kiss  .  "  there  are  a  few  whistles  in  the  crowd  ,  amazed  at  her  partner's  boldness  ——  but  ,  of  course  ,  that  is  what  isobel  chose  him  for  .

no  longer  the  onyx  ,  no  longer  a  serpent  cursed  out  of  paradise  ——  no  ,  she  is  juliet  ,  all  youth  and  loving  .  starcrossed  to  the  fabric  of  her  being  ,  tragedy  writ  in  her  soul  .  oh  ,  if  she  only  knew  .  "  good  pilgrim  ,  "  the  strength  and  softness  of  her  voice  enough  to  draw  pause  from  those  watching  ,  "  you  do  wrong  your  hand  too  much  ,  which  mannerly  devotion  shows  in  this  .  for  saints  have  hands  that  pilgrims'  hands  do  touch  ,  and  palm  to  palm  is  holy  palmer's  kiss  .  "

niccolò  tilts  his  head  low  ,  to  search  the  likeness  of  his  yearning  in  her  eyes  .  "  have  not  saints  lips  ,  and  holy  palmers  ,  too  ?  "  he  tries  to  steal  a  kiss  from  her  ,  as  they  have  practiced  countless  times  ,  and  like  practice  she  ducks  away  ,  rolling  her  eyes  in  measured  nonchalance  ——

"  ay  ,  pilgrim  ,  "  she  replies  ,  chin  tilted  upwards  like  a  challenge  .  you  dare  ,  romeo  ,  to  seek  to  hold  my  heart  ?  how  tender  is  your  touch  ?  "  lips  that  they  must  use  in  prayer  .  "

he  beams  ,  then  ,  as  if  he  knows  .  and  he  does  .  "  well  ,  then  ,  dear  saint  ,  let  lips  do  what  hands  do  .  they  pray  ,  grant  thou  ,  lest  faith  turn  to  despair  .  "  behind  him  ,  onlookers  hold  their  breaths  .  the  moment  they  await  is  already  upon  them  .

she  raises  an  eyebrow  ,  as  if  raising  the  stakes  higher  .  if  you  had  stolen  a  kiss  ,  how  would  you  return  it  ?  "  saints  do  not  move  ,  though  grant  for  prayers'  sake  .  "  

"  then  move  not  ,  "  he  leans  forward  ,  as  if  to  share  a  secret  ,  as  if  to  properly  take  from  her  (  the  preemptive  squealing  from  a  few  freshman  does  little  to  deter  a  secret  veteran  of  the  stage  )  ,  "  while  my  prayer's  effect  i  take  .  "  and  niccolò  does  descend  upon  her  lips  like  a  prayer  ,  soft  and  kind  ,  the  prayers  you  whisper  to  a  god  at  night  .  the  crowd  around  them  bursts  in  cheer  ,  and  their  praise  is  something  both  of  them  receive  as  they  smile  into  their  kiss  .  as  quickly  as  they  have  gathered  ,  so  quickly  they  disperse  .  isobel  hugs  perhaps  her  dearest  friend  outside  the  circle  a  warm  hug  before  bidding  him  well  wishes  on  the  evening  festivities  .  

elated  ,  isobel  whirls  around  to  meet  a  familiar  face  .  it  was  only  a  matter  of  time  before  they  knew  .  what's  a  little  secret  to  give  ,  when  she  has  countless  others  she  will  never  let  breathe  the  air  outside  of  a  tightly  closed  fist  ?  "  didn't  think  you'd  be  here  to  see  it  ,  "  the  onyx  returns  ,  all  casual  and  cool  ,  as  if  she  had  wanted  them  to  bear  witness  .  blackstones  are  formed  deliberately  ,  through  fire  ,  and  isobel  has  never  been  known  to  shy  away  from  the  dangers  of  any  flame  .

[book-boys-are-my-guilty-pleasure]

Imagine: You and Enjolras being cast to play Romeo and Juliet for a play.

Request: “Hey, could you write an Enjolras Imagine where Grantaire (who is good friends with the reader) has a theatre class, and he has an assignment to put on a musical and he casts the reader and Enjolras both ( just trying to play matchmaker) and romance ensues [Romeo and Juliet instead]” @mysterious-adventurer

A/N: Not to toot my own horn, but I’m really happy with how this turned out!

College!AU

      “Y/N! Y/N!” Your friend, Grantaire, called, running up to you on campus. Once he reached you, he grabbed you by the shoulders with frantic eyes, “I need help!”

      “Help? With? Oh my god Grantaire, what did you do?!” Of course, you would assume the worst with him.

      “I have to direct a play for my theatre class and I need you to play the lead!”

      “The lead? Don’t I need to give an audition first?”

      “You played the lead in the drama production back in high school, you’ll do great.”

      You sighed, but his desperate eyes convinced you, “Alright fine, who am I playing?”

      “Juliet from Romeo and Juliet.”

      You raised your eyebrows, “And who’s Romeo?”

      “It doesn’t matter,” He said quickly, before running off again. As soon as he was away from you, he dropped the act, smirking to himself, knowing his plan was in motion.

      You had rehearsed your lines, and you were making your way to the empty classroom to do your first table reading. This would also be the first time you would meet your co-actors, including Romeo.

      You dropped down behind the place card that said ‘Juliet’. Five minutes later, a disheveled looking Enjolras ran into the room. He gave you a quick smile before looking down at your card, the colour instantly left his face.

      Realization dawned upon you, Grantaire did this on purpose, “You’re Romeo aren’t you?”

      He nodded before dropping down next to you, “I’m guessing Grantaire planned this.”      

      “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

      “Okay, you two are great actors, you delivered your lines perfectly, but there’s a little problem,” Grantaire said after the reading, “You two lack... chemistry.” You raised your eyebrows at him, “Can you practise alone?”

      “Gra-”

      “Perfect! Thank you!” He ran off, leaving you and Enjolras with no other options.

      There was a knock at your door and you opened it to reveal Enjolras, you gave him an awkward smile before letting him in. The two of you had decided to do as Grantaire said, wanting to both help your friend and prevent yourselves from looking like idiots in front of the audience.  

      You sat on the couch in your small apartment, and began going over your lines.

      “For stony limits cannot hold love out, and what love can do, that dares love attempt. Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me.”

      “If they do see thee they will murder thee.” There was passion in both your voices but you lacked the emotion. You shook your head, “This isn’t working, we just sound... awkward.”

      “Probably because we are.” He runs his fingers through his hair, “alright, let’s try again. Stand up.”

      You do as he said and he started again, “For stony limits cannot hold love out, and what love can do-”

      “No, no, you’re too rigid. This isn’t one of your political speeches, it’s a love story.”

      “Yeah, I’m sorry, but I kind of lack experience in that department.”

      You chuckled, “You’ve seen the movies, just try. Why don’t we start again, with a different scene?”    

      He sighed, before taking a step closer to you, “Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?”

      This is one of the lines you were worried for, and were thankful Enjolras was going over it before you were in front of the others, “Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.”

      He stepped closer to you, a smug smile lingering on his lips. You felt your heart skip a beat, stop it Y/N, you’re just acting, “O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.”

      “I-um-” You shook your head, willing yourself to focus, this was exactly why you were afraid of Enjolras playing Romeo, I’m never getting through this, “Saints do not... uh, do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.”

      He gently cupped your cheek, “Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.”

      He stepped in closer and did what you least expected, he kissed you. You didn’t think this was going to happen until the performance, and even then it was going to be a chaste kiss, not as passion-filled as it was.        

      He finally pulled away, leaving you breathless, “I guess I was just looking for an excuse.”  

      You stared at him, unable to reply.

      “Grantaire wanted us to boost our chemistry, so how would you like to go out for coffee with me?”

      You blinked yourself out of your shock, “Yes- uh- I’d love that.”

End.

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Les Mis Tags:  @nadiagazecka​

[sithlordintraining]

Sword-Crossed Lovers

A/N: Thanks for trusting me, love! I didn’t want it to be like Midnight Special so I didn’t do an academic competition. Hope you enjoy!! I used this scene.

“ @greyjediism : Hey! Could I request reader and Ben at first don’t like each other at first cause they’re competing for like a cause competition or something but later on they have to work with each other or in a group project and end up learning about each other and slowly falling for each other? If this doesn’t make sense don’t feel pressured to write it. Thank you anyway though!❣️“

“Oh no!” Y/N gasped. “What?” Your friend, Jill, turned to you. You screeched as your eyes searched the paper for a mistake. “It’s Ben Solo. I have to compete against Ben Solo” The palm of your hand flew to your face. Ben Solo was the popular kid who was smart, rich, athletic, talented, “Terribly hot,” Jill said. “And a major asshole.” You rebutted. The two friends began to make their way to English. “I can’t believe I have to compete for the captain of the drama club. Mr. Kinby told me I was a shoe-in to lead!” You exclaimed. “And now Ben Solo walks in here and takes his shirt off in one scene and now he’s the next Adam Driver!” You groaned. Jill just chuckled. “I mean his body is pretty impressive.” You lightly pushed her. “Thank you, Jill.” Ben’s voice caused the two girls to look up at the tall hunk, peering over his angular nose and a smirk. You rolled your eyes and tried to walk past him but he cut in front of you. “Woah, where are you going? I wanted to talk to you about the play I want to do for the annual since I’m pretty sure you’ll be second in command.” Ben told you. “Excuse me, no. And if anyone is choosing it, it’s me!” You pointed to yourself. “Yeah, and what would you choose Grease?” Ben teased. Ben moved from Chandrila and he thought he was better than everyone here. Sucking your teeth, you turned on your heels. “I’m talking to Mr. Kinby.” Quickly, Ben followed you and in no time was ahead of you. “Oh no,” You yelled as you broke out into a sprint to beat him there. “MR. KINBY!” The teens yelled as the man turned. “Ah, my two stars.” He asked and Y/N shook her head. “Mr. Kinby, I should be captain.” The teacher was surprised by your words. “Oh, how convincing!” Ben mused. A quarrel began to form as Ben and Y/N went back and forth. “Well, I am the wrong one to be pitching to. This will be picked among your peers.” Mr. Kinby explained. “Each week you guys will present a monologue proving that you will make a good captain. It can be solo or you can use your friends, but by the end of the month they will decide.” As he spoke, the wheels began to turn inside their heads of what they were going to do to secure their position as captain. After their talk with Mr. Kinby, the two teens left the theater but just before they parted ways Ben called out for her. Turning, you saw him smirk. “Good luck.” You groaned and sped off to class.

The next few weeks almost seemed like torture as Y/N and Ben when head to head. It almost seemed that each week there was a tie between them and it was hell. While you were the obvious choice, due to the versatility you provided in each of your performances everyone enjoyed, there was Ben who provided more edgy and forceful, and since there were a lot more girls in the group they very much enjoyed his intensity. “So how’s it going?” Jill asked you. “Urgh, it’s hell! We are tied and the only reason we are tied is that he’s hot!” You told her. “Well, finally you admit it. I mean I know you’re a good actress but don’t act like he’s not good looking.” Jill said. You weren’t blind to the fact that he was hot, but you wouldn’t let that deter you away from being captain. You worked so hard, you deserved this. It was the last week, the last monologue, and you were ready to secure your spot. Jill walked you to the theater to see a hoard of girls surrounding Ben. “Well good luck.” Jill hugged you. “Thanks.” You hugged back before walking in. “Ok everybody, this is our last week for everyone to make their final decision.” Mr. Kinby explained to the class as the two candidates stood behind him with arms crossed. “So we will let Ben go first since Y/N decided last time.” He stepped aside and let Ben speak. “I’ve decided to do Romeo and Juliet.” All the girls gasped, just the thought of being Ben’s Juliet had them fawning. Ben smirked as he turned to see you scoffing. “And I would like Y/N to be my Juliet.” Your eyes widened as your jaw dropped. He was not serious, the most basic play known to man, sorry Shakespeare. Y/N went to object, but Mr. Kinby was booming. “Perfect Ben! What a way to see the two of you within a scene, we will really get to see your capacity.” Ben had a shit-eating grin as the teacher commend him. “You’re welcome, Mr. Kinby. I won’t let you down.” He smiled at you once more and it made you want to scream.

Ben offered up his house to practice and not too much of your surprise it was huge. “Come in,” He opened the door and you followed him in the large house with high ceilings. “I hope you don’t mind practicing in the backyard.” He said and you shook your head. Just then an older man walked in. “Oh Ben, I didn’t know you were having company.” He smiled politely at me. “I’m Luke,” He extended his hand. “Y/N, beautiful home you have.” You smiled. “Thank you. If you need me, I’ll be in the office.” He said excusing himself. They walked into the backyard that looked more like a park. “Wow, your dad must have a good job.” She said. “That’s not my dad.” Ben shook his head. “He’s my uncle, I live with him.” He gave you a short smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m...sorry.” You said quickly as they remained silent until reaching a bench. “So what scene are you thinking?” You asked nervously, praying it wasn’t “Act 1, scene 5,” Those words left his lips and you cringed. Of course, he would pick that scene. “Of course,” You smiled sarcastically snatching the script from out his hand. Ben had to pick something that knocked you out of the lead; there were only so many times he could take off his shirt. And he would be lying if he said you weren’t talented, it’s just that he was too. If anyone else was watching, they would’ve told you it was less star-crossed lovers and more sword-crossed. “I-This is going to be a mess!” You exclaimed, throwing the script down. “We’ve been at it almost every day and we are making no progress; we can hardly get past the first ten lines! We need a break or some type of revelation!” Your hands flew up as you began to walk away. Even though Ben’s plan to mess you up was working, it wouldn’t look good on him either. “D-Do you want to walk?” Ben stuttered out. Pausing, you weren’t completely sure if you had heard him correctly, or stutter for that fact. Looking at Ben, you never realized how soft his eyes were, “Ok,” you nodded and followed him.

The two walked in silence down the trail behind the houses. It was pretty uncomfortable, well at least for you. “So...how are you liking Ach-to?” Y/N asked. He glanced at you with mild confusion; this was the first time you talked to him without being mean. “It’s...small, nice, okay.” Three words that weren’t the best, but you had to admit it fit it. A giggle left your lips that had Ben looking at you once again. “Is anyone in your family into acting?” You asked. But he shook his head. “No, I’m more like the outcast.” “Oh,” Y/N internally cursed herself. Ben could see that she was trying to make nice and decided it would hurt to actually make one. He knew that everyone he hung it wasn’t genuine. “How about you?”He asked. “No, I mean we are very musically-oriented family: musicians, singers, and dancers. But no actors.” You shook your head. “Until now,” Ben noticed the way you bit your lip to hide the small smile, but the visible dimple on your cheek told otherwise. “W-What got you into acting?” You were surprised that he wanted to know, even if it was just for awkward small talk. “My aunt actually. My cousins and I did our own version of ‘The Wizard of Oz’” You chuckled thinking back. “Who were you, Dorothy?” “No, the tin man.” You froze and began to do your impersonation as Ben watched with amusement. “That was very impressive.” He clapped. “Thank you,” You bowed. “What about you?” Ben pondered the question trying to remember the exact moment. “When I was eight, my parents took me to see the Phantom of the Opera and I’ve been hooked ever since.” Ben turned to see you wearing a smirk. “What?” “I didn’t think you would pink something so classic, I was expecting something crazy like ‘Ecstasy’!” You told him and his brows lifted before his eyes narrowed. “What do you know about ‘Ecstasy’?” “I like Hedy Lamarr.” You shrugged. “Is that your favorite actress?” He asked. “Of that time? No, I like Lauren Bacall. Who’s your favorite actor?” You asked as he nervously chuckled. “Humphrey Bogart.” Your (y/e/c) eyes peered up at him. It was weird that the two people they liked, were married. Shaking it off, you suggested practicing while on your way back. Carefully they began to say their lines; Y/N walked along the edge of a small tree stump as Ben paced back and forth. “Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in pray’r.” You said. “O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do, they pray—grant thou, lest faith turn to despair,” Ben replied. You were so focused on the stump you didn’t even realize it was your time to speak. “Y/N!” The call of your name startled you causing you to fall. Ben quickly rushed over, arms tightly locking around your waist. Your heart was beating fast and you were pretty sure it was because of what just happened and not because of the way Ben was looking at you. “Are you okay?” He asked and you nodded as he slowly settled you down to the ground, arms still around you. If your phone didn’t ring, you didn’t know how long you would’ve stayed in his arms. “Oh, my mom’s here. I gotta go.”

After that, Ben couldn’t get you out his mind. Sometimes at school, he’d find himself thinking about you. During rehearsals, he would try to sway it to learning more about you or just talking to you period. And what drove him crazy was your lips. Stars, your lips were so cute, full, and looked so soft and the fact that he had to kiss you made him thankful for choosing Romeo and Juliet, even if it was supposed to drive you crazy. You would think it would be nothing, he did many of fake kisses. But the way his heart raced and palms sweat every time the lines for the kiss grew near, it wasn’t just acting. He had fallen for you and every time they went for it, something would happen. And now it was the day that determined their fate. Everyone was waiting to see what would be such an iconic scene, Jill and few other non-drama folks snuck in to watch. Ben watched you talking to a few people as he prayed that he wouldn’t get caught up with his lines. “You ready?” He blinked not realizing that you were now in front of him. “Yeah,” He nodded. “Hopefully the kiss isn’t awkward since we didn’t get to practice it.” You said and he just stammered another yeah. “Well,” You nodded as you waited for Mr. Kinby to cue you guys. It was going well, not to your surprise but Ben’s. Your eyes just sparkled wildly as he stared into them; such innocent yet curious eyes that conveyed the scene. It felt so intimate it didn’t even feel like they were on stage being watched by a room full of people. Each word that past your lips had a smile tugging at his lips for he felt that he was really Romeo. “Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.” The corner of your lips tugged up slightly. “Then move not while my prayer’s effect I take.” Ben took a step, large figure looming over you, noses touching. “Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purg’d.” His voice was low and seem to rumble throughout the theater. And then it happened; his pinks lip captured yours, he felt her suck in a breath before she kissed back and it was better than he imagined. You pulled back to deliver your line “Then have my-” But Ben’s large hands gripped your face and pulled you back into another kiss. You were stunned and confused before kissing him back. The kiss was slow and passionate as he sucked on your bottom lip. All the non-drama students began to catcall and Mr. Kinby immediately stopped it. When they parted, Ben’s honey eyes searched yours before turning to the teacher. “I’m sorry, I-” His eyes fell on you again. “I really like you Y/N.” You were shocked at his confession. “Like a lot and I like being around you and talking to you and you’re a great actress.” He said breathlessly. “I’d die happy if you’d be my Juliet” You couldn’t help the giggle that left your lips at his corny sentence, before pecking him. “My Romeo,”

P.S.: This is kinda cute, I might submit this.

[mackloveswriting]

Love Story - Loki

Summary: Y/N and Loki are doing Romeo and Juliet and they have to act out the scenes. Including the one where they kiss.

Requested: Yes! @jackiequick

Pairing: Loki x Asgardian Reader

Warnings: None that I know of besides fluff.

<<Just a little note: this will use the original text from Romeo and Juliet.>>

Sitting in the library of Asgard was something that you did very often. It was a place that you could be content and have a breather without having to hear about people talking about Thor and his family. Even though you love his family, it’s just been weird that you have to hear about people wanting your best friend.

“How did I know you would be here?” You smiled as you heard Loki’s voice. But wiped the smile off before he could see it.

“Maybe because we have so much in common.” You joked as you looked back down at your book you had been reading.

“Ah, Romeo and Juliet.” Loki stated once he seen the book you were reading. You had just began reading the book a few minutes before Loki came in. “I didn’t take you for a love story type of girl.”

You laughed and looked up at him, “I guess there are a few things that you don’t know about me.” You told him as you turned the page. Loki took the book from your hands and smirked when he seen the page number.

“You know, there’s a better way to get to know this play.” Loki said with a smirk as you rolled your eyes and waited for him to continue. “We could act it out.” He added which caused you to laugh. “Come on, it will help you understand it better.”

You sighed before looking into his blue eyes, “Fine.” You mumbled as Loki stood up and began taking you to a room. His room, to be exact. “Why are we in your room?”

Loki shrugged, “we needed a more private place.” He told you as he handed you the book back.

You glanced at the page that you left off on and gave him a shocked look when you seen what it was. Act 1, Scene 5, Page 5. Where Romeo and Juliet kiss. “You are such a trickster!” You exclaimed as you playfully shoved Loki and he let out a laugh.

You truly cherished the moments you got with Loki alone, it was the only time you got to see the real him. He would smile, let loose, and just have fun instead of being his usual self.

“We’re still doing it.” He told you as you nodded not arguing with him. Thor has always told you that Loki had a soft spot for you, you didn’t believe it until recently. Loki grabbed your hand gently as he looked into your eyes, “If I profane with my unworthiest hand, The holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand. To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.”

“Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, Which mannerly devotion shows in this, For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmer’s kiss.” You did your part for a moment as Loki looked amazed how you knew it without gen reading the book. Little did he know that you have read that book more than once in your whole life.

“Have not saint lips, and holy palmers too?” Loki continued as he took a step closer to you making your breath hitch.

“Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.” You continued as your brain kept on running through the play and your hands were getting clammy and your nerves were acting up.

“Oh, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray: grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.” Loki spoke so gracefully as he took another step towards you in a few more steps and he’ll be so close to you, that he would be able to feel you breathe.

“Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.” You spoke softly as Loki took another step forward.

“Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.” Loki spoke as he lowered his tone a bit to make it come out as more of a whisper as he moved so close to you. He looked in your eyes before looking down at your lips. Without hesitating, Loki planted his lips onto yours. You took action immediately and kissed him back. You pulled away from him and bit your lip as he looked over your face noticing the blush on your cheeks. “Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.”

“Then have my lips the sin that they have took.” You spoke in a sort of shaky breath as you searched Loki’s eyes for any emotions.

“Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.” Loki mumbled before locking his lips to your again. This time, with more power and hunger. You hadn’t even realized you were moving until your back hit the wall right beside his bedroom door.

You two pulled away and his lips started attacking your neck, you hummed in pleasure as she found your sweet spot. Loki pulled away as you opened your eyes and looked at him. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

You smiled and touched his cheek as you gave him another kiss before pulling away. “Me too.” You sighed.

“Well, I was hoping so.” He laughed as you two started kissing again.

[-Hello! I hope you enjoyed this. I know it could’ve been better but I’m so sorry.]

Let me know if you wanna be tagged in anything.

Requests are open!

[hypermanga]

Beauty to the beast

3rd person POV

The Pit was emptier than what was usual, only  a few initiates that went here and there, if it wasn’t for a tattoo, it was to buy some clothes.

But there was a particular girl, (Y/N), who wasn’t interested in any of this, in fact, she could be seen in a corner, snuggled in her big black jacket and her hair in a neat ponytail, holding a book.

2nd person POV

“You should do other things apart from reading” huffing while crouching down your best friend back in Abnegation, Andrea, tried to take you out from your trance"But it’s the best part!“ You answered back, the same answer as always.

“That forsaken book…How many times will you have to read it before you grow tired of it?”

“Dunno”

“You’re such an unusual person (Y/N), that’s why I love you” She snatched the book from your hands, a gasp escaping from your lips “Ah,ah,ah…Not before you come with me to get a tattoo”

Sighing, you made your way with her to the tattoo parlor, Tori waving us as the neon lights danced creating curious patterns “So…What’re you getting?” Looking at her arleady tattoed wrists, you crossed your arms “I’m getting a…"She tapped her chin, spinning around to finally stop in what seemed like a tribal design.

After she disappeared behind the curtain, you retrieved your book, slumping down in a sofa.

“If it isn’t the Dauntless bookworm…The same as always I suppose” Your eyes widened at that voice. Eric, the one and only Dauntless leader.

“Yes and, as per usual, I was in the best part” You didn’t lift your eyes from the book, feeling Eric’s mocking gaze and matching smirk burning holes in your skull.

Eric was the only one who always started a conversation about you and your book. It made your day, even if he mocked your attitude sometimes.

“You know (Y/N), i’ve always been interested, which book is it?” “I’m sure you don’t know it” In fact, I don’t know if you have any knowledge in literature, you thought, but bit your tongue in fear those words would come out “I’ll be deciding that, initiate” You closed your book, putting it in your bag “It’s Romeo and Juliet. There, happy?”

Then, the unexpected happened. Eric laughed. A ghost of a smile appeared in your features, but was replaced by a frown as he spoke up.

 "Of course it had to be that one” “What? Any problem?” “The stereotypical one for a girl” “Oh! And Mr. I-know-about-literature-so-don’t-contradict-me wouldn’t happen to know which books are not the stereotypical ones?”

Crap, you had sassied beyond your limits the man that could kick you out of Dauntless even if you were ranking the first ones in the Initiation, which wasn’t even the case.

Well, at least I lived…

“Come” You opened your eyes, looking directly at his blue orbs “God, do I even have to carry you there?” “Carry me where?” “Shut up and follow me”

You did as you were told, waving goodbye to Tori who had gone out a moment to drink some water.

As you made your way to an unknown place, you started to make possible scenarios ‘He could make me clean the dishes in the dining hall…Nevermind we passed it’ ‘He might make me run a hundred million laps in the gym…Nope’

A hundred hypothesis later, you realised where you were “The leaders dorms?” “A quick one, aren’t you?”

He took a key from his pocket, and opened the door of his bedroom, you assumed , and entered to a dark room.

“Watch out where you step” You stopped dead in tracks and waited for him to open the light. Wise decision really, you would have stumbled with…Wait, books?

You picked the first one you saw, which had a nice red cover. Turning it over, you read the title “So…King Arthur’s tales huh? It has love Eric, aren’t you a softie?” He just rolled his eyes and took the book.

You were surprised by how many books he had, and of all genres, from horror to comedy, going to philosophical and romance “I thought Dauntless people didn’t read?” “I’m not originally from here, I was an Erudite” “That’s why you’re such a smartass sometimes” You whispered to yourself “ I heard you initiate” You cursed under your breath, making Eric smirk “Don’t tell anyone you’ve been here, or you’ll be Factionless in a matter of seconds. Got it?”

Nodding nerviously, you went to exit the room when Eric’s voice called you “We should repeat this kind of stuff…I’m a little bit oxidated with the reading culture because of the Leader thing”

You smiled to yourself and bid him goodbye, before going to the Pit to finish your good old book.

Every afternoon after dinner, you met at his room and spent time reading and commenting chapters. Sometimes, you read eachother’s parts of a book which you really liked, enjoying the times. It became like a tradition for both.

Eric didn’t know how to feel about it, he tried to erase from his memory your smiley face, the voices you put when you read a part from one of your books or how you blowed the hair out of your face which prevented you from reading.

It was too much for him, for he didn’t know how to cope with this emotions.

As he sat in a reunion, Max sat beside him, smirking at how distressed the Leader was “You look somewhat distressed” “…” “You seem troubled for something” “…” “Is the beast in love with the beauty?” “Oh, just shut up Max” How did he know about it? “I saw you the other day how you talked at the doorway of your room about a book”

Eric got red instantly, for his friend had hit the bullseye “Normally, I’d ban this kind of things, but she makes you less grumpier than usual, so I’ll help you” “I don’t need anyone’s help” He muttered, clenching his fists.

After the meeting, he got to his room, thinking how he could confess to you in a creative way, for you weren’t a normal kind of girl.

He spent the evening thinking about it, until he stumbled your book, Romeo and Juliet “I’m gonna look like a brat…But, if she likes me back, then so be it”.

You skipped contently to Eric’s room, ready for a new reading session. As you knocked on the door, you found it was already open , and Eric was sitting at the end of his bed, tapping his fingers over a book cover.

“Oh, of course I forgot it here!” You laughed and went to get it back, only to be stopped by Eric “This is the most dumbass thing I’ll ever do…” You arched your brow at that statement “But if I don’t say it now, I might never have the guts again”

“What are you say…”

“If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss”

There was an awkward silence, your faces heating and turning bright red “God, now you think I’m such a weirdo”. You rose up from your seat and started the next dialogue

“Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, Which mannerly devotion shows in this; For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss”

You smiled, looking down at your boots .

“Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?” Eric stood in front of you, as if he wanted to hold your hands.

“Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer” Intertwining your fingers, you stared at his blue orbs.

“O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair” As he finished the part, he leaned down and connected your lips with his in a tender kiss. Closing your eyes, you rested your palms on his chest and enjoyed the kiss.

As you parted, you smiled “Shakespeare?” “C'mon, you have to say it was genious” Eric smirked, crossing his arms in a cocky manner "And you said it was girl’s book huh?“ You mimicked his pose and smirk.

“For you, I can make an exception”

MASTERLIST

~~~~~~

@imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @beltz2016 @readsalot73 @kenzieam @captstefanbrandt @sserpente @book-boys-are-my-guilty-pleasure

[emaratygirl]

Winx Club Stella: speak, Brandon. You are too grave for one who cuts a country dance. Brandon: if I profane with my own worthies hand this holy shrine my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. Stella: good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much. Which mannerly devotion shows in this, for saints have hands that pilgrim’s hand do touch, palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss. Brandon: have saints not lips, and holy palmers, too? Stella: yes, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer. Brandon: oh, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. Stella: saints do not move, though grant for prayer’s sake. Brandon: then move not while my prayer’s effect I take. Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged. Stella: then have my lips the sin that they have took. Brandon: sin from my lips? Oh, trespass sweetly urged. Give me my sin again. Stella: you kiss by the book. 💗 @fairystellaandbrandon https://www.instagram.com/p/CLz2kEinM9S/?igshid=1bssvx6x1pesm