#do you think his head whistles when the wind blows

[ariestrxsh]

dealer!chris

💸 content warning: smut/angst, masturbation, mentions of hard drugs and guns, enemies to lovers, slow burn

💸 summary: literally just a really hot blurb about dealer!chris smoking a joint on a roof while jerking off to the thought of you

WHEN SPARKS FLY

chapters: | intro | 1 | 2 | 3 |

Chris found himself up on the rooftop of his girlfriend, Daisy's house after you'd dropped him off and gotten home safely, a lit joint dangling from his pouty lips, and his right hand below his waist, fiddling with his belt. Daisy had been soundly sleeping when he arrived, and he took the opportunity to take care of something that had been nagging him off and on all night.

He unstrapped his gun from his hip and laid it on the rooftop beside him. He unzipped his jeans, undid his button, and reached into his waistband. He couldn't set his cock free quickly enough. He started methodically stroking it, immediately feeling the relief of his own long-awaited touch accompanied by the cool metal of his rings.

He loved nights like this. He cherished the time he spent on rooftops, whether it was with music and a joint, with deliberating thoughts, or even just a late-night masturbation session. He loved the risky element of it, but how private it was at the same time.

The clouds were slowly parting to reveal the starry sky beneath them, the rain had stopped, and the wind was still gently blowing, adding to the intimate moment he was having with himself. "Oh, fuck," he softly moaned as a bit of precum pooled at his slit.

He gently squeezed his cock, the clear fluid beginning to leak down his perfect, mushroom-shaped head as he pumped it in his hand. The cool air rushed over his tip, causing him to shiver in delight as a layer of goosebumps traveled across his skin.

He took a long drag, the ember of the joint glowing in the dark. He gently ran his thumb over his shiny cockhead, sending waves of pleasure through his body. He bit back a groan at the incredible sensation.

He wasn't fantasizing about anything in particular, just basking in the moonlight and letting all the thoughts from the day go, exhaling them with the smoke that escaped his lips. His eyes fluttered shut, and he tossed his head back as he relaxed into the beautiful feeling.

The sounds of the night were soothing, the wind rustling through the trees, the distant music of windchimes clanking together, and Chris' occasional moans of delight. He took another puff from the nearly-spent joint, burning his lips on the roach as he pulled from it.

His chest rose and fell at a quickening pace, and his calm, slow breaths turned into a fervent panting as he started to approach the edge. His mind began to wander to places he'd been trying to avoid. You. He secretly loved your crass personality, your dry sense of humor, and how sexy you were.

He remembered the way your legs looked in that dress you wore earlier. He remembered the perfect curve of your back, imagining how it would look arched in front of him. A coy smile played into his expression when he recalled the way you'd stammered your way through your sentence when he accused you of thinking about him doing this very thing.

Before he could decide whether it was wrong or not to be entertaining a fantasy about you while his girlfriend was asleep in her room beneath him, he started picturing you in some skimpy lingerie sprawled out on your bed. In his imagination, he was on top of you, parting your legs with his knee and running his fingers across your soft skin.

"Chris," he imagined the sound of the wind whistling faintly was you hissing his name between your teeth. He fantasized about the way you'd moan into his mouth as he kisses you and how your body would tighten and squirm as you take what he gives you.

Your name passed through his lips as the motion of his hand sped up, stroking his sensitive cock at an ungodly pace as he pictured you letting go beneath him, your whole being trembling under his touch.

He felt it in his stomach first - that familiar ache, the building tension, and finally the release.

"Fuck," he lustfully whispered to himself. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he pulled his eyebrows together in a look of pure gratification. His cock twitched in his grasp, squirting his pearly white substance all over his exposed stomach and his hand.

He let the sensation overtake him, pleasure rippling through his core and flooding his brain with pure, unfiltered satisfaction as he drained himself. He left his body, becoming one with the stars, one with the moon, and one with the night all before his consciousness floated back down like a feather. He felt at peace.

He felt the joint he pinched in his grasp start to burn the pads of his fingers before he finally put it out. He tucked himself back into his jeans, buttoning them up, and fastening his belt. He stuck his glock back into his waistband, the cool metal contrasting against his warm skin.

He laid in silence for a few moments, enjoying the thrill of being high and the post-orgasmic bliss that lingered in his body for several minutes after. He felt his whole being buzzing with dopamine and adrenaline, two things that didn't come to him as easily since living the fast life.

The thoughts he'd had about you in the midst of his climax almost surprised him. It was the first time he'd allowed his mind to go there without shutting the thought down before it had a chance to play out.

Once his breath returned to normal and he felt like he could stand again, he found his way from the roof to the cinderblock wall on the side of the house and finally, his converse hit the grass beneath him.

He climbed out of his damp clothes that he had sweat in and that had been rained on throughout the night and crawled into bed next to his girlfriend. He was careful not to wake her, shifting around meticulously as he glanced over at her pretty face glowing in the moonlight.

He knew that you were right, that he had to tell Daisy what he was really doing for work, but in that moment when he looked at her, he had a sinking feeling in his stomach. He just knew she wouldn't stay if she found out, and he knew that she certainly wouldn't stay if she'd known about what he'd just done while thinking about another woman.

Guilt kept him awake, staring at the ceiling fan for the next hour or so until exhaustion took its place, finally allowing him to drift off to sleep.

taglist: @skye-44 @faiyaz555 @idrk2292 @chrisslittleslut @drewswife @trevorsgodmother @sofisturns @milo-the-dog @rockstarchr1s @bsturnzmtts @sturniolo-girl @theyluvme-2315 @jassturn @brookiecookie-18 @maggot3647 @slut4chriztopher @strnlslvr @sleepysturniolo @lvrsturniolo @sofieeeeex @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @matts-myloverboy @witchofthehour @slutforsturniolosss @whoahoahoahoahoa @ilovechrissturniolosposts @smt-obsessed @sturnioloxlver @that1fangirll @hrtz4alex2211 @drewstarkeysdoll @sp3ncerslvt @sturniolo-munch44 @jakewebberswifee @ssturniolooss @thenickgurl @sturniolo-fann @sst7niolo @babysturniolo @chestersturniolo @riowritesitall @camzeecorner @mattsturnixlo @annedebeijer @scorpioosworld @mattlover-00 @sweetlikesug4rvenom @m11rx @sturniolocharms @mickelodeon-2003

[feddy-34]

nicky is never not pissing me off he is dumb as rocks

[s0urw00lf]

Love is in the air

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: you unknowingly give Dean another reason to fall deeper in love with you

Warning: complete and utter fluff and sam is a girls girl.

A/N: idk if anyone has done something like this, but I really loved it and I think it’s my favorite fic I’ve written yet. Also this isn’t proofread so if you see any mistakes please let me know. I wrote this at 5 am so I probably won’t notice any mistakes. Anywho hope you enjoy!!!

Today’s hunt had been a bust after you and Dean were tasked by Sam to be the cliche “couple in love” so that the envious love witch would target you instead of some other innocent couple.

So now you and Dean were in the impala driving back to the motel that happened to be about a fourty five minute drive away from the restaurant she was targeting.

The night was silent aside from the quiet music Dean had playing in the background and the light tapping of his thumbs against the steering wheel. Dean looked incredibly good in his suit and tie, a look you wish he’d worn more often.

To Dean you looked better than any angel that could grace his presence, when you exited the bathroom with your off the shoulder black form fitting dress and high heels that made your legs look like heaven, his knees almost buckled and they would’ve hadn’t it been for Sam who was there to catch him before he could.

“Hey dean?” You asked softly, drawing his attention from the empty road to you, replying with a ‘hmm’. His green eyes were extra bright in the darkness and made you want to melt in your seat.

“Can I roll down the window?” You asked, it was an odd request on your part, because you usually don’t like the pressure the harsh wind puts on your head. Dean eyebrows rose in surprise before answering “f’course sweetheart, sure it’s not gonna make your head hurt?” he asked sincerely

You shook your head “no it won’t be for long I just… want to try something” you said, pausing in thought you hoped that the feeling would push away the sadness you felt. He nodded glancing back at the road, “okay then go for it” he said with a smile.

You clicked the button to roll down the window and felt immediately relaxed. You put your arm out of the window, closing your eyes and let the wind blow on your face and whistle past your ears.

Dean watched with love in his eyes at how relaxed you looked, he could tell that the your failure to obtain the witches attention had bothered you but decided against saying anything, but as soon as the wind hit your face its like all that sadness slipped away with the wind.

You sat like that for a minute or so before deciding that was enough, you opened your eyes looking for the button again before an idea struck you. You paused in thought ‘would that be too cliche’ you asked yourself, but ultimately you told yourself ‘who cares, do it’ so you did.

You surprised Dean when you stuck your torso out of the window, he immediately grabbed on to your thigh in case you accidentally slipped. You raised your arms as the wind that was way stronger whipped past you, the air was sticky which you’d guessed was from the rain that had fell a few hours prior but you could care less.

For the first time in a life time you felt completely and utterly free, from the worries of the things that lurk in the dark, from death, and disappointment. But the feel of dean hand on your thigh mixed with the wind whipping past you and through your hair made you want to cry of happiness.

Dean watched you from inside of the car, how beautiful you looked, in that moment he was convinced you were sent right from heaven into his arms just so he could live this moment. He saw all of your worries slip away as a carefree smile graces your face. The light from the streetlight lit you up like a pop star on stage and he was your audience.

You caught him even more by surprise when you let out a loud and cheery “woooo” and it seemed like time had slowed. If both of his hands weren’t occupied he would’ve taken a picture, but he couldn’t and he would have to rely on his memory to recall this moment for the rest of his life. He wasn’t even sure how he hadn’t crashed the car.

Your heart thumped loudly at the adrenaline that rushed through your veins and that’s when you decided to get back in the car. You seated yourself back on the seat and rolled up the window before letting out the most cheerful laugh Dean had ever heard from you and just the sound itself had his heart souring. “Holy. I see why they do that in movies” you said, looking at him with the most genuine smile he’d ever seen.

Dean couldn’t help the smile that took over his features at the happiness gleaming from your face. You were glowing and it was the most precious moment of his life. “You are gorgeous sweetheart” he said, he couldn’t help that it slipped past his lips, but the look on your face showed it didn’t have much of an effect on you. You rolled your eyes, still smiling “whatever, eyes on the road Winchester, I don’t want to be roadkill because you’re too distracted” you joked. Dean huffed out a laugh in response.

For the rest of the ride the two of you basked in the happiness that replaced the previous gloom. And when you arrived at the motel, Dean was the first one out the car, rushing to your side to open the door for you. “Such a gentleman, if I’d known you’d be this sweet I would’ve let you take me on a date sooner” you joked, but Dean didn’t take it as one. “Then let me” he said genuinely.

Your smile faltered, ‘is he messing with me?’ You thought “what” you said, it was the only thing you could get out. “Let me take you on a date. A real date not one where we have to look over our shoulders the whole time. Let me take out on a date to drink champagne and eat all those fancy meals that don’t even fill you up” Dean said almost sounding as if he was begging.

Dean grabbed your hands “y/n if you let me I will go the whole nine yards. Flowers, a gift, rent a fancy car and order valet whatever you-“ you cut dean off with a kiss to which he immediately returned. The kiss was soft and sweet, you could feel his eyelashes slightly brush against your cheek, and the way he relaxed into the kiss made you swoon.

His hands dropped yours and he placed his on your hips and you bought yours around his neck pulling him deeper into it. You only pulled away because your lungs had began to burn from the lack of oxygen. Deans eyes remained closed for a little longer, reveling in the feel of your lips against his and your body pressing against him. “Woman you drive me insane” he muttered before opening his eyes.

He was graced with the sight of you smiling up at him with your arms still around his neck. “You can take me on a date Winchester, but it doesn’t have to be anything fancy. We could go to a diner in baby and I’d be just as happy” you said softly, your nose brushing his.

It wasn’t often Dean was rendered speechless, but in that moment he was sure you were made for him and only him. “O-okay” he stuttered. You giggled in amusement “have I rendered you speechless?” You teased, and deans cheeks reddened. “Maybe this will knock some words back into your head” you said before pressing your lips against his for the second time, only this time you didn’t give him enough time to recuperate.

“Hey I wasn’t done” he pouted, and you laughed loudly. Pulling away from him you closed the door to baby and began to drag him back to your shared motel room with Sam who you were sure was watching you wondering why it was taking so long for you to enter the room.

“C’mon Winchester we can talk out the details later” you said grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the stairs that led to your room.

Added bonus:

Sam had seen the blush on deans cheeks and he pure happiness in the both of your eyes. Dean quickly excused himself to the bathroom and Sam looked at you with raised brows. He’d helped you pick out that dress, telling you “Dean won’t be able to keep his eyes off of you”. You gave him the biggest smile trying to contain your excitement “it worked” you whisper yelled. A huge smile broke out on Sam’s face “I told you it would” he said.

He had been the biggest supporter of you and his brother’s possible relationship. “He asked me out Sammy” you whispered so Dean wouldn’t hear. You threw yourself on the bed like a teenager from one of those romance sitcoms you claimed to not like, but before Sam could ask for more details the bathroom door opened revealing a slightly less blushy Dean.

He eyes you two skeptically “what are you two whispering about” he asked. “Just figuring out how we’ll get the witch now” you quickly lied. If Dean suspected you were lying he didn’t show, because he immediately turned his back to you and Sam trying to get his tie off. You sent Sam a quick and subtle wink that meant ‘I’ll tell you later’ and he nodded trying to hide his smile

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Shiver

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: The snow may not be the only thing keeping you trapped.

Character: silverfox Bucky Barnes

Day Five of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - extreme weather leads to forced proximity  

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

"Shit," Bucky plants his feet in the snow as you shiver against his back. 

The wind billows around you, his body breaking it but not shielding you completely. You shiver under the wool blanket and open hospital gown. Your quick escape didn't allow much time for a weather report. His treads crunch and sink deeper into the snow as the back tire kicks up powder and the front clogs with the thick sheet below. 

He growls and revs again, more in frustration than genuine effort. Your lip quivers and your teeth chatter. You look up as large cumulus flakes drift down, blotting out swathes of the sky. 

"Gonna have to ditch it," he grumbles and kicks down the stand. He hardly needs to as the wheels are so deep, the bike might stay up on its own. He kills the engine and the silence blows around you, whistling behind your ears. "God damn..." 

You rescind your arms, shaking as the cold seeps across your front, his warm fading quickly. You slide off the bike, your open rubber clog sinking into the snow, your exposed leg scalded by the bite of the cold. He climbs off and looks at you, a grimace lined in his forehead and cheeks. He shakes his head as he strips the saddle bags off the bike and puts them over his shoulder. 

The grey streaks in his hair are illuminated by the white landscape, and the patches in his beard look even thicker. The scar through his brow pales with his exasperation. He beckons to you as you continue to quake. He doesn't wait for you to obey. He steps closer and hooks his arm around you, his metal one coming up to scoop you off of the ground. As he lifts you, snow clumps off your shoes and back to the heaps. 

"Where--"

"Where are we? Where do we go? Two questions I don't got the answers too." He growls.  

You rub your hands together and blow into them. He looks down at you, his eyes glinting with steel, his cheek twitching. He's forged in iron. He gives one-worded orders and grunts, so now that he's talking, you're concerned. Even more than you were before he showed up.  

"Sorry," you utter.  

He grunts. Right. He hikes you up so you fall against his chest. You welcome his warmth. He takes high steps away from the motorcycle. You watch it over his shoulder. You suppose it's replaceable.  

He continues on, slow, but steady. The snow falls at a similar pace. You can't help but nestle into him. You've heard of this man before. Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier. His nickname is more apt in that moment, though he doesn't welcome the irony.  

As he carries you, you feel his heart beat, and your own. He is a man underneath all the stories. An avenger. A hero. Your hero. Or just another captor. 

You turn to see ahead of him. He walks into the ivory void, the snow slanting and swirling all around. You squint as it catches in your lashes and you hug the blanket tighter. It's damp with snow and offers little against the onslaught.  

Hopelessness builds with the piles of snow all around. Still, he isn't daunted. Even as the sky darkens, even as you feel him tense with the burden of your weight. He just carries on. You know what that's like. To just keep going because there's no other option.  

A haven appears at last, though you don't immediately see it. You think he's gone mad when he kicks the wall of snow. Then it collapses inward into clumps. The mouth of a cave opens from behind the dusty shower.  

He steps through, out of the whining gales. You bend your fingers and wiggle your toes as they ache and throb. He takes you deep enough that the cold is not so virulent.  

He puts you down and wades through the darkness. You huddle in a ball as you listen to him. You can't tell he's right next to you until he grabs your leg then trails down to your foot. He takes it out of the clog and wraps it in fabric. You're not sure what exactly the cloth is but it's better than nothing.  

He does the same to your other foot before he moves away. Again, you hear him. His shadow blurs in and out of your sight until he turns on a flashlight. He props it in a nook in the wall so it casts across the space. You hug yourself and watch him. 

He surveys the interior of the cave as he grips his hips. He doesn't look impressed. He drops his bags on the ground and unbuckled the blanket roll from between them. He unfolds it with a pensive gaze. His eyes flick over it to you. He nears and throws it at you. You catch it thankfully, letting he wet one fall off your shoulders.  

He clicks free the clasp on his leather harness, undoing each strap until its slack. He slips it free then unzips his high-collared jacket. He removes that too and puts it with the bags. You stare at him in confusion.  

"Your clothes are wet," he pauses and glances over, "what little you got. Take em off. We gotta stay warm."  

"Huh?" You gurgle.  

"Or you can freeze. I got the serum to keep me warm," he shrugs as he peels off his undershirt.  

You don't hesitate again. You reach to the laces of the hospital gown just behind your neck. You've been poked, prodded, observed. You lost your modesty a long time ago. He doesn’t have any either. 

As you drag the fabric away from your body, he approaches. Naked, hairy, shameless. He takes the blanket and lowers himself next to you. He wraps you in his arms, bring the thick layer around both of you as he guides you down to cave floor. 

You cannot deny the heat of his body. You’re almost desperate for it. You quake against him as you snake your arms around him in turn and press your cheek to the top of his chest. Your legs tangle together as you entwine beneath the blanket, meshing together to keep the warmth within. 

His breath is calm where yours is shuddery. You cling to him and close your eyes. The lull takes over. There is only the distant wind, the soft fall of snow, and the beating of his heart. Or is it yours? 

You ease down into a senseless trance. You are not so much waiting for it to end as hanging on every second. You’re alive. You can stay alive. For the first time in maybe ever, you care about that. You’re not sure why. It might be nothing more than being away from that horrible place he took you from. 

His lips brush your hair and send a new kind of shiver through you. The gesture is odd as he inhales, breathing in your smell. His hand crawls up your back and down again. Your skin speckles with bumps. His movement is cautious but deliberate, as if he’s unsure if your awake or not. 

A low rumble rolls in his chest and escapes his throat. He splays his fingers wide and covers one side of your ass. He presses his palm to your firmly and curls his fingers. You whimper. What is he doing? 

Your bat your lashes as you open your eyes. His other hand comes up to still your head, trapping it against his chest. His hand hooks under the curve of your rear. He shoves between your thighs, keeping his knee between yours as he feels around. 

Your heart races in your ears. The whistling wind is replaced by a thundering drum. Your fear tempos as his determination guides his touch. 

He pokes along your entrance and dips his fingertips just inside. He wiggles them as you whine again and brace beneath his chest, a layer of soft flesh pillowed over hard muscles. No, it can’t be. You saw it on the screens. On the pages. He is a hero. He saves people. He doesn’t do this. 

He turns you onto your back and shifts his weight over you. You exhale as you look up at the stubble on his chin. You push until your nails crease in his flesh. He does not relent. 

He parts your legs with his. He slips free his fingers and unwinds his arm from behind you. You sniff as your eyes burn with disbelief and fear. 

“Please don’t,” you babble. 

He doesn’t listen. Or maybe he doesn’t hear you. His other hand creeps around and pushes your chin up. He frames your jaw tightly as he rocks and rubs his rigid length against your pelvis. He groans as you feel him twitching. 

He grips his dick and drags his tip down, tracing along the vee of your thigh and to your slit. He delves between your lips, rubbing up and down as you squirm in his grasp. Your hands are flat to his stomach as you push futilely. 

Your voice evaporates with all of your strength. You feel the paralysis that comes with knowing there’s nothing you can do. You lift your eyes to the dark caverns of the ceiling and stare into the abyss. 

He pokes along your entrance. You hiss as he presses against it, threatening to stretch you, even split you. He leans into you, slowly barging his way into you. Your body strains to take him as he lets out a long groan. Inch by inch he invades your body, conquering you as he keeps you pinned beneath the blanket. 

The grey ends of his hair tickle you as he sinks until you can take no more. Your tears wobble in the brims of your eyes and you blow out a willowy sob. He lowers his head to brush his prickly stubble against your cheek. His gritty breaths blaze over your ear and he growls as he tilts back. 

He pumps into you as you quaver out stunted cries. He rears back with long, slow strokes, only to slam back in quickly, holding himself deep before retreating again. You no longer feel the cold or the warmth, just his violation. 

“W-w-w-w...” you rasp quietly under your tortured breath. The noise of flesh, wet and dry, meeting and parting echoes in the cave. “Why...” 

He thrusts into you again. He keeps himself buried at the point of agony. You snivel and free a hand to mop your face. He lifts his head and hushes you as he shoves your arm away, caressing your splotchy cheeks with his thick thumb. 

“You didn’t think I was saving you, did you?” He nuzzles your forehead as he snarls. “Doll, they made you for me to claim.” 

You squeak and latch onto his wrist. Squeezing as he snaps his hip, jolting your entire body. Your pain swells with panic. You don’t understand what he means. If he didn’t save you, why did he kill all those people? 

“Yielding, used,” you flinch as your temples tingle with the timbre of his voice. “Vessel, dusklight,” he continues reciting the disjointed words. Your eyes feel loose as if they might roll out, “forty-five, wilting.” You ears ring and you shake your head, digging your nails into his forearm, “one, belonging,” he ruts into you harder with each word, “together,” your skin crawls as your insides burn, “surrender.”  

With his last word, your body goes limp. You can’t move but you can feel. You can feel it all. He pushes his hand around your head and cradles it as he bows his head to nuzzle your neck. His breath dampens your skin with each desperate burrowing into your core. 

“They programmed you for me, doll,” he puffs into the crook of your shoulder. “They put a switch in you...” he groans and tenses as his other hand stretches beneath you to raise your ass, opening you even more to him. “That only I can flip.” 

You don’t even have the power to cry. You can only lay there and stare and suffer. If he isn’t going to save you, no one else is. 

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

calling skz clingy headcanons ◦ ot8

Paring◦ ot8 x reader

Words◦ 3,578

Genre ◦ hurt and comfort

Warnings ◦ reader blows up at the boys a few times, mild cussing I think, hyunjin is lowkey toxic in this but the reader is more toxic, honestly all of our boys are pretty dramatic lmao, they keep getting lazier and lazier😭, I fucking hate y/n in this like fr I'm gonna kick her sorry little ass, seungmins is... suggestive...dirty talk and fingering only for like one line, so is hans lmao all happy endings because I am not sadistic... or realistic

Taglist ◦ @thetoastghost222, @ur-fav-lvr

A/N ◦ honestly this is my super random chaotic thoughts I had at 2am bc I was really hating the way I was writing a love lived between the stars and the sea so I wanted to take a small break and clear my pallet I hope you all like it even though it lowkey sucks lmao <33

Also im lowkey fucking with making headcannons this is kinda fun...

~cookiecreates 🍪

chan

I feel like Chan would be the most emotionally mature about the whole thing, especially when he sees the storm brewing in your eyes before you even spit those venomous words.

"Fuck Chris, do you have to be so clingy all the time?" You shout, your mouth curling in a disgusted sneer. 

You've never flinched away from him like that, never been so mean-

He's first hurt then he sees it-

There are cracks in your demeanor; large gashes in your heart; he could read you like an open book; the stories your soul wished to tell resided in your glassy eyes.

Hurt people hurt people.

You didn't think he was clingy; no, you loved his touch. You were simply overwhelmed, overflowing with so many simmering feelings—his love did not have room to shimmy through.

So he makes room-

He tilts your chin up with a sincere voice and asks, "What's the real reason why you are shutting me out?"

The unadulterated dedication in his words leaves you in shambles. 

Chan would tear open his heart before your eyes just to prove that there are openings for your soul to pour all your pain into him.

and he would still find a way not to spill a drop

"It’s so hard,” you sob. “They told me you were too good for me, that I wasn’t enough. They said I should shut you out, run away before I got too attached. I had to make you hate me so that I could never weigh you down again."

Chan is fuming.

He wants to ask who said that? He wants to ask where they live? He wants to ask if you want to witness their destruction? He wants to ask if he should use a knife or a gun?

But instead, he says, ‘Darling, you would have more luck breaking the bounds of the moon than untangling the way you are threaded into my soul."

what. the. fuck.

Chan the next William Shakespeare up in here

...was this based on something I wrote for my new series...yes. am I ashamed... no.

I'm a hopeless romantic who wants to marry a poet.

Sue me.

You never thought the apocalypse would be so rewarding, because you are reeling, spinning out of orbit, a meteor spit out into space, hurling towards unknown destruction—destruction that tasted like fresh morning dew.

Chan was perfect.

what the fuck were you thinking?

He holds you through the night, chasing away the whistling of the cold winter wind, his warm arms creating a home around your heart.

lee know

do not ever ever ever ever ever ever ever call Lee Know clingy unless you are willing to dedicate your life into creating the next wheel of time because after you plant the seed in his head, he will blossom a garden of newfound insecurities.

"Can you please not be so clingy right now? I'm having a really bad headache," you whisper through the thick fog clouding your brain; you have been living with a red hot rod skewed through the back of your brain all day. You didn't mean to say the word clingy, but it is futile to search a thesaurus from a blurry page, and right now the world seems to be nothing more than a piece of abstract art.

He just wanted to hold you and you call him clingy??

To others, the sentence would be like water rolling off their backs, but to him, it was a ragged shard of glass stabbed straight into his chest.

Lee Know is extremely inexperienced in the world of intimacy, often clumsy with his actions—hesitant with his words, so why would you say such a thing?

Knowing how insecure he is??

You would only ever say it if you meant it fully and completely??

Honestly, in his head, he would be lowkey, really dramatic, but he's so beyond hurt, feeling like you're just picking at a gaping wound.

like I said, dramatic.

justified. yes.

dramatic... also yes.

I am a firm believer that his tough-guy act is only that.

an act.

He was pretending like he didn't care what you said, but when he gets into the other room, it takes everything in him not to shatter into a million different pieces, feeling so overwhelmed with how many emotions are coursing through him.

No matter how much you apologize after that, no matter how much you prove what you said was nothing more than your head foggy and in pain, it still will take lifetimes for that scar to fade.

and he will only ever get over it with a million reassurances and a thousand conversations

which you are willing to do as long as he needs it

changbin

Honestly, I dont really have a clue with this one, but I am definitely leaning towards him being more like Chan in the emotional mature way he handles it, but instead of comforting you at the drop of a hat, he just leaves the room and lets you stew on your sorrows.

"Your so clingy," you groan, shoving his arm off; rolling your eyes as the mattress shifts with his weight. You just want to be left alone. You weren't sad. You weren't mad. You were just tired and did not want to be touched.

In perspective, could you have handled it better? Yes, but what can you do now? I'm going to punch this bitch in the face I swear I hate y/n and I'm creating her

He's first very confused, then the hurt hits like a falling star crashing into his chest.

What do you mean he's clingy??

"Fine," he states, still dizzy from the utter whiplash you were giving him.

like what the hell?

Sleeps on the couch that night (bad idea don't do this)

He stews about it far past the dreams in his head

That is, until you trudge out of your bed in the morning with red-rimmed eyes and a face filled with regret.

After a shitty nights sleep without the heat of your boyfriend's arms, you realized very quickly what it would feel like if you were to never feel it again, and all of a sudden, you never want to be left alone like ever again.

The grudge he was previously trying to hold drained out of him, and in that instance, he jumps up, pulling you into his arms.

He is very quick to forgive you, when you voice your reason for snapping at him, was nothing but compressed frustrations manifested into the wrong source.

hyunjin

hyunjin. hyunjin. hyunjin.

I feel like in a fit of both hurt and the toxic trait of self-isolation, he would be petty and stay at the boy's house for a few days.

He had tried to give you a good morning kiss that day, but you were stressed and late for work, rushing to put on your clothes. The way he whined about wanting to be touched ground your gears beyond belief. You got stuck in your shirt, which was too tight after you shrunk it in the dryer, and your firm has yet to give you another one. Hyunjin's flighty hands wrapped around your waist, trying to help you untangle yourself from the mess of fabric, only for the button to get caught in your hair, pain ripping through your scalp.

"Stop it hyunjin!" you shout, attempting to unthread the way your hair has meshed into the slits of the button. "You're so fuckin' clingy."

It was all a mess—your heap of shifting fabric and jerking limbs, hair sticking up at every angle. His heart was crushed somewhere in a pulp on the floor in front of him.

He just wanted to help...

Your red-hot anger quickly bled into a tightening anxiety that pulled underneath your ribs as you imagined the look on your boss's face when you came in disheveled and late.

"I just wanted to help," Hyunjin sniffles, bouncing his eyes around the room, filling with tears. You heartlessly roll your eyes.

"Here come the waterworks," your voice is steady, flaming with annoyance mixed with a sickening tilt of mockery. His jaw drops.

you're being so mean

His ears burn when you glare at him, disgusted by the tears streaming down his cheeks. He desperately wipes his emotions away with the back of his hand, suddenly embarrassed to even be showing you the cracks in his soul.

He runs away, like, quite literally runs out the door, sprinting to his car and driving straight to the group's house, collapsing in a fit of sobs in Chan's arms.

He stays there for a good 3 days, ignoring all your calls and texts.

No matter how much it hurts his heart not to talk to you, he shuts you out in a weak attempt to show you what it would be like to live without him.

But this tactic is short-lived when you arrive at the boys' house, snot sobbing into his chest.

"i-im so sorry," you repeat over and over and over into his skin, hoping the further you dig into his chest, the closer the words will hit his heart. 

He's not going to lie; no matter how much you cry, a little bit of pettiness will still stay during the conversation, a small scar of his hurt dictating his choices.

"Why didn't you come home? I thought we were over?"

"I thought that asking to sleep in the same bed as you would be too clingy"

Your heart cracks. He sees it, immediately regretting all his words.

"I'm sorry!" he yelps, pulling your head straight into his chest again.

You shake your head remorsefully, "No, I deserved that."

Even though so much of him still wants to be petty, his love for you trumps the feeling.

(I'm not forgiving you though wtf)

han (this one is long asf)

Han is freaking out.

I mean like the devil's bony hand gripping at the base of his spine, stale breath wafting down the skin of his neck type of freaking the fuck out.

You had a job that required you to go on-site, on-call often, like Han’s—that’s why you were so understanding about his busy schedule; yours was just as bad.

Today was a nightmare. Your coworker, the devil in disguise, didn't show up for the presentation she had created, and since she threw you under the bus saying you helped her (you didn't), you were forced to come in and present it.

Leaving Han at the restaurant waiting for you to arrive-

You forgot-

It was debatably the biggest presentation of the year, showing off her new design to multiple new investors, and yet your phone kept buzzing.

You told Han this was important

You never sent the message

You don't think you have ever seen your boss so furious

From Han's point of view, he's been sitting here for 2 hours, and you are still not here.

There are so many scenarios flying around in his head—

Are you okay?

Did you stand him up?

Are you breaking up with him?

Did you get kidnapped??

Han got tunnel vision when he was scared, his restless brain shooting out dire scenarios faster than he could decipher the impossibility of them. It was overwhelming. The walls were closing in on him. Nowhere in the world was safe. His head was swimming, the room was spinning, the earth was popping through space.

He keeps texting and calling and voice mailing. The icy anxiety crystallizing in the pit of his core turns his fingers brittle, creaking as he jams them into his phone screen.

He can't breathe.

Too many possibilities.

Untill-

Your boss got fed up with your phone ringing, screaming at you to go answer it since it was clearly more important than your job.

he was a prick

You answer it, the heat of your building anger curdling a deadly brew inside your soul. Without looking at the 200+ messages Han had sent you, you answer the 50th call of the day, immediately hissing into the speaker, "Do you know what you just did, Han? I got yelled at by my boss in the middle of a presentation because your clingy ass can’t exist without constantly needing my attention for more than 5 minutes. Stop texting me." Your finger smashes the end call button before unruffling your skirt and walking right back into the room.

Han feels like he might just melt straight into the seats, the way his whole body burns.

The whole world stops for a moment, the earth bleeding down the walls, swirling into pools of muddy color. He was sinking, lungs filling with the ink of a million different sweltering elements.

He ruins everything.

He was so wholly overwhelmed he could barely crawl into his car, desperately gripping the steering wheel while the earth collapsed in on him.

He ruins everything.

It's almost impossible to get to his house the way his tears blur the road.

(that's actually fr dangerous don't drive while crying)

He ruins everything.

He doesn't cry when you walk through the door.

He doesn't touch you when you run to him, standing over him, huddled on the floor.

He doesn't breathe as you cry over his body, twinkling in and out of consciousness.

He ruins everything.

Your makeup runs down your cheeks as you try to shake him awake.

He fainted in the kitchen. It wasn't uncommon when he was alone during his panic attacks, the anxiety ripping harsh bouts of oxygen from his lungs.

You squish his cheeks together, forcing his lips into a pout, shoving your faces together, pouring unadulterated passion into his system.

He short c i r c u i t s.

"I'm so sorry," you sob against his lips. "I didn't mean to be so mean. I didn't mean anything I said. I was just stressed, and I thought I sent the message telling you not to text me, and I didn't. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry." Your voice is high and wet, pushing his mouth deeper into yours.

It would be sceintifically impossible for your lips to get any closer-

and yet his tries.

He pulls your trembling body into his lap, fireworks exploding from the ashes where your words had lain.

"So you don't think I'm clingy?" His voice cracks, fresh tears collecting on the outer corners of his eyes. You have never shaken your head so adamantly in your whole life.

"No, never, never ever."

"Then come here."

You two have never been so close before in your life, hearts tangling in your chests as he presses your body into his.

You were going to prove just how much you loved his touch.

:D

felix

Oh Felix, my kind sweethearted boy that deserves nothing less than prince treatment. He’s so kind, even though he’s so hurt. He’s actually scared he’s annoying you, so he makes himself more distant so he doesn’t bother you.

""Fuck, Felix, can you not see I am clearly just trying to relax? I mean, you don’t always have to be up my ass all the time," you snap, curling back up into the sheets Felix ripped off. You were exhausted—there was no excuse; you were just really tired. Felix, being the loving boyfriend he is, wanted to hold you while you slept, but of course, you being the dumb idiot you are, shouted at him.

are you stupid like fr cause like THE LEE FELIX WANTS TO HOLD YOU AND YOU SHOO HIM AWAY

you deserve federal prison

Felix is so many synonyms for destroyed that it should be physically impossible to still be alive with a heart that lies shattered in the pit of his stomach.

Felix doesnt know how to feel sad, angry, hurt, upest, embarrassed.

He just clenches his jaw, trying to keep his bottom lip from trembling.

Felix has always been secretly self-conscious about the way he expresses his love toward people, often being very touchy-feely. He understands that this isn’t everybody's favorite thing and how it can get fairly annoying.

He’s already so terrified you’re going to leave him; he overanalyzes every interaction.

But this interaction did not need to be analyzed to know what you meant. You were very direct about that.

The way your venomous words attached to his stomach, pumping him with poison that swirled his stomach sick.

You don’t apologize when you wake up, not believing you need to justify yourself. He was being clingy, and you had every right to express your opinion about it.

im going to punch this bitch in the face

As surprising as this is, he actually doesn’t cry about it. He doesn’t cry about it because he is so worried that him crying about it would annoy you, so he would rather let his sadness seep into the back of his brain than show you emotions that could potentially turn you off.

Like I said, destructively kind.

He really takes what you said to heart, trying his best not to give you any skinship unless it’s to guide you through a crowded room or pull you away from the bustling activity of the road, holding your hand until you get to your destination.

He actually feels like he can’t function without your touch, but he muscles through it, relishing in the small actions he can get.

He tries to show his love in other little things that aren’t physical touch. It gets to the point where he is so deep in his head he shies away when you try to initiate skinship, terrified he’s going to get back into the habit of the joy of touching you and make himself seem annoying again.

He’s so beyond scared of being a nuisance.

It’s been two weeks with this flighty physical touch, and it all finally starts to click when you notice his smile isn’t nearly as bright anymore and some of the stars in his eyes have faded away.

"I want you to be clingy again, please, please, please. I mean, cling wrap, Kola. If you ever think you’re being too clingy, please hug me a little tighter. I’m an idiot, a complete and utter moron. Really, I should be evaluated on why I am even able to exist in society."

His heart literally bursts so relieved he can finally touch you again.

He gives you the most dopamine-coddling, brain-boggling cuddles known to mankind that night.

Your skin is so close together it feels like there isn’t a part of your body Felix doesn’t occupy.

He has created a home in your heart that no other man will ever stay, where he will rest until the day you fade away.

seungmin

Oh bro is pissed

"You're so clingy," you deadpan as his arms wrap around your waist. You had seen a stupid TikTok prank on your For You page and had the brilliant idea to try it on your boyfriend. But the way his whole body tenses against your skin, muscles rippling underneath your fingertips, you know you are so beyond fucked. "What did you just say to me, baby?"

well you just signed your death certificate

So many ideas brewing in that beautiful head of his-

Like, your ass will be red, your stomach will be painted, your mouth will be filled, and you will be descending into the grave. Like all the rest are lovey-dovey 'I’m sorrys,' no—your sorry will be told on your knees.

He will edge you intill you are teetering on the ledge of oblivion

"You want to cum, baby?" He's so condescending, easily lifting your waist from the sheets, his sticky fingers creating bruises when he pins your legs down to gain more access to ruthlessly abuse your g-spot.

"Yes, Yes, Yes, please," you beg, body trembling on the bed, large qaukes of pleasure rushing through your bones as his mean fingers plunge into your messy cunt.

"But that would be too clingy wouldn't it?"

oh how i want his fingers

(this one is really short bc i hate writing smut but i feel like this would be smutty)

jeongin

I honestly have no clue. I feel like he’d be more confused than anything because, like, me?

clingy?

mf I barely touch you?

Honestly, kind of annoyed more than sad—like pissed that as soon as he wants to touch you, you think he's clingy. But he's like Chan in the fact that he sees past your words and into the anger brewing in your eyes, allowing both you and him to cool off before he says something he will regret.

He just walks out of the room and lets you calm down.

I am also a firm believer that this man is healthy as hell.

He could tell that his heart was starting to beat a little too hard and his head was getting a little too fuzzy with all the raging words he wanted to say. But instead, he just walks away and lets you calm down, then talks to you about it before you go to bed because he is also an extremely firm believer in the fact that you should NEVER go to bed angry.

this one is shorter bc like I'm lowkey running out of motivation and ideas

did you like this? check out my new series a love lived in between the stars and the sea here

or maybe read doomsday here

[strawberriesoup]

24 to 25٠࣪⭑

── .✦ A snowstorm forces you to take refuge with Jisung on christmas eve

word count: 6.6k

genre: fluff with a little angst, jisung x female reader, mutual pining, comfort, acquaintances to lovers

warnings: cursing, feelings, reader is down horrendously bad for jisung, kisses, jisung is a sweetheart

a/n: this has been in the works for a while (i’m bad at writing stuff fast) SO IM SUPER HAPPY THAT I WAS ABLE TO GET IT OUT FOR THE HOLIDAY SEASON

if you make it all the way through, please leave some feedback! i always love to hear other people’s thoughts!! your feedback is what keeps me writing stories like these ❤️❤️

taglist: @jisunggy @holly-here @hannamoon143 @fly-you-dam-fools

if you would like to be added to my general taglist, send me a comment or an ask! <3

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The holiday season is a time for joy, a time to share laughter and meals, a time to wear fuzzy socks and fall asleep watching bad Christmas movies. Well, that’s what it’s supposed to be anyways. It’s a little hard to get into the Christmas cheer when each snowflake swirling outside your windshield is somehow concerningly larger than the last.

Wind whistles past your car as you squint your eyes, trying — and failing— to get any sort of visibility through the rapidly thickening blanket of snow and darkness. The gas light flashes on with a ping. Damn it. Continuing on whilst the best you can make out of your surroundings is a screen of nothingness and the occasional telephone pole doesn’t seem like the best course of action right now.

Eventually, you manage to pull into a small gas station about five minutes away by reluctantly putting your life into the hands of Google Maps.

Blowing warmth onto your hands, white-knuckled from your death grip on the steering wheel, you yank your phone out of the cupholder. Stranded in some dingy parking lot a good forty-five minutes away from your apartment is definitely where you needed to be on Christmas Eve, thanks so much universe. And your feet are cold.

You had really wanted to surprise them. The last time you’d seen your family was back in March, well over half a year ago. You thought Christmas as the perfect opportunity to visit. Just imagining the look on their faces alone was more than enough to spur your enthusiasm. But, then again, you hear the worries in the back of your mind. You hadn’t visited in so long, rarely even sending a text their way. And coming over with zero warning? They might not be as happy as you hoped.

No, of course they would be happy to see you, right? Right. Either way, there’s no way you’re going anywhere tonight.

Warm air from the AC fans across your face as you slump back in your chair, unfastening the top clasp of your coat that suddenly seems to be suffocating you. What do you even do in this situation? Call someone?

Scrolling through your contacts, your eyes alight on a familiar name.

Han Jisung

You face lights up with hope. Didn’t he say something about living around here? You open his contact, immediately faced with the looming call button in the top right corner of the screen.

Jisung is somewhat of an aquaintance of yours. Calling him a friend might be too bold. Being partners on a group project doesn’t automatically equal friendship, but you two had gotten along quite well. At least, you thought so. Maybe that was wishful thinking coming from your fat crush on him and his gorgeous smile, but still.

What are you doing? You hardly know this guy, and you’re going to call him on Christmas Eve night so he can, what, pick you up? You have to admit, the thought sets off little warning bells in your head. But what other options do you have?

Finger hovering over the button, you hesitate for a moment longer before pressing call.

The line rings once, twice. What if he doesn’t answer? He’s probably busy, it is Christmas eve after all. Did he ever mention leaving town for the holidays?

You’re so busy trying to recall previous conversations with him that you almost don’t notice the line picking up before the third ring. Shit, that was faster than you were expecting. Jisung’s voice greets you through the speaker.

“Heyy, what’s up?”

At the sound of his voice, your heart does a little leap in your chest. You take a deep breath before answering.

“Hi Jisung. I, uh, have a bit of a favor to ask.”

⋆⁺₊❅ ⁺₊❆⋆

You were right about him living close, because less than fifteen minutes later the bright flash of headlights announces Jisung’s arrival. You know that looking nice should be the least of your priorities right now, but that doesn’t stop you from flipping open the sunvisor and briefly inspecting your appearance.

Jisung’s car door thuds shut as you hop out of your own car, met with a brisk rush of air that fills your lungs, chilling you from the inside out. He wasn’t far, but with the heavy snow you can just make out his form from across the lot. You’re quick to hustle towards his dark sillouette, eager to get out of the cold as soon as possible.

Meeting in the middle sooner than you had expected, both you and Jisung halt in tandem, breaths coming in puffs of condensation. The zipper of his puffer jacket is half undone, complimented by a scarf thrown haphazardly around his neck. His hands that are shoved deep in the pockets of his coat give hint to the fact that he’s probably not even wearing gloves.

Neither of you had spoken a word. The silence is painfully awkward, and you can tell he feels it too, if the way he glances down at his feet in favor of meeting your eyes is anything to go by.

“So, do you—”

“Should we—”

Speaking simultaneously, you both cut your sentences short, falling into a silence that’s somehow louder than the last. God, you had expected it to be awkward but not this awkward. Meeting with Jisung outside of a college setting feels so foreign, the only way you’ve interacted with him thus far has been through school. You can feel your ears burn as Jisung clears his throat.

“Sorry, uh, you were saying?” He pulls his hand out of his pocket to gesture at you, confirming that he is indeed not wearing gloves.

The question hangs in the air as Jisung pushes his glasses up with two fingers and looks at you expectantly. His cheeks are tinted with blush from the prickling cold. Lips slightly parted, his breath hisses through his teeth with every inhale, as if trying to supress them from chattering.

“Oh, yeah,” you begin your sentence again, shaking your head to focus. You’re standing in a parking lot in the middle of an actual snowstorm, now is not the time to be fawning over him. “should we, like, head to your car? I’m freezing. I’ll just leave my car here because it’s— yeah.” You twist around to look at your drab little car. It’ll be fine.

He lets out a little puff of laughter, sending a cloud of frost into the air.

“Yeah, good idea. c’mon let’s go.”

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

The car ride to Jisung’s place is less awkward than your experience in the parking lot, but not by much. A comment is occasionally made about the storm, but other than that the ride is filled with silence and the steady swishing of windshield wipers.

Jisung glances at you from the corner of his eye. You’re examining the fluff on your gloves with your head down, not seeming too intrested in conversation.

Or maybe you’re uncomfortable. That would make a lot of sense.

Wincing internally at himself, Jisung draws his attention back to the road and furrows his brow, trying to remember if he’s done something wrong. Although, he supposes that being alone with, well, not a stranger— Jisung would like to think he’s at least a good aquaintance to you— but with someone you don't know too well, is enough to put anyone on edge. He has to remind himself that this was your idea.

When your contact info had popped up on his screen, interrupting his very important business (scrolling), he promptly froze, had an intense mental battle on how he should answer, dropped his phone, picked it back up again, and hit answer, all in the span of about four seconds.

Jisung has to admit he does have a slight thing for you. Well okay, maybe a big thing. Like, he has your class schedule and favorite study spot memorized kind of big. Also you wear your hair up on Tuesdays.

But thats besides the point really.

After what feels like a lifetime of driving and the occasional buzzing of muted christmas music playing through the radio, you two finally arrive at Jisung’s place.

It’s nicer than you had expected. The house is dimly lit, but perfectly tidy. Best of all, it’s warm. Behind you, Jisung’s keys jingle as he hangs them up next to the door.

“Uh, make yourself at home, okay? There’s instant ramen, some milk… actually, that’s about it but hey, at least there’s ramen.” He beckons you in, tugging his scarf off while smiling ruefully at the lack of food options to offer.

“That’s okay, I believe in instant ramen supremacy,” you state confidently, earning a laugh from Jisung as you follow him into the kitchen, resting your weight on the counter.

“A woman after my own heart I see,” He jokes, closing his eyes and placing a hand dramatically over his heart. His knuckles are still flushed pink from the cold.

If only he knew.

You can feel the awkward tension from earlier start to melt away now that you’re here. Thank God, because you were seriously considering going back to your car and just waiting out the night there. You couldn’t do that though. Jisung was so willing to help, coming as soon as you had called. Which is kind of crazy, if you stop to think about it for a second. Going out of your way to drive out in a snowstorm and picking someone up on Christmas Eve would be absolutely out of the question for most people, let alone someone you aren’t even close with.

Jisung is busying himself with running some warm water in the kitchen. He rests one elbow on the counter, testing the water tempature. You find yourself watching his movements, how he runs a hand through his hair, the dark strands dampening with the moisture from his hand, and how his eyebrows pinch in concentration until the tempature is just right. Jisung seems more comfortable and relaxed now that he’s here. He’s not a tall man, by any stretch of the imagination, but his confident demeanor makes his presence seem much larger.

Running his chilled hands underneath the warm faucet to bring the warmth back, Jisung looks to the window. You blink and follow suit. Fortunately, he hadn’t caught you staring.

“Holy shit, we must have made it here just in time,” He laughs incredulously, shutting off the sink and shaking the rest of the dampness from his hands.

The window is completely engulfed in white.

Outside, the wind angrily laments that you’re inside and safe. You can’t imagine being stuck out there in that, alone. Just the thought of it makes your insides churn with a strange mixture of anxiety and relief, and you realize that you haven’t even thanked Jisung yet for saving your sorry ass. You open your mouth, but the words seem to dry up on your tongue.

Jisung tilts his head at you, questioning.

“No for real, I haven’t seen a snow this crazy in a while,” Running your hand along the cool countertop, you fix your eyes on an unlit candle to the left of Jisung’s form. Why can’t you just say thank you? It’s not that hard, yet you find yourself avoiding the two simple words like the plauge.

A beat of silence falls over the two of you, but this time it’s comfortable. There’s no rush or pressure to say anything, just a quiet presence while gazing out at the bright sheet that blankets the night.

���⁺₊❅ ⁺₊❆⋆

You have an idea.

Is it a good idea? Probably not, but it’s an idea nonetheless.

While you had been absentmindedly thumbing through your Pinterest homepage in an attempt to pass time, you came across a recipe. And not just any recipe, it’s a sugar cookie recipe in the likeness of a snowman. With a little face on it.

The tantalizing image stirrs your sweet tooth, and you glance over at Jisung on the other side of the couch. He seems to be putting an obviously large amount of distance between the two of you, as the entire middle section of the couch remains empty with you and Jisung perched on either side.

“Hey, so… are you any good at baking?”

Jisung’s head jerks up at your question.

“Uhhh. I plead the fifth.”

You find yourself grinning.

“How about this, do you like baking?”

“Now that. Is a different story.” His knees spread apart as he adjusts his position on the couch, slouching lower and crossing his arms across his chest. He looks at you sideways. “What, did you have something in mind?”

You definitely do have something in mind, and it doesn't have anything to do with baking.

“Hear me out,” you point your phone screen at Jisung, who leans in to squint at it. “we make christmas cookies. In the shape of snowmen.”

“You know what, hell yeah. Nothing better to do,” Jisung stretches his arms towards the ceiling, hands balling up into fists. Your wandering eyes betray you, and you can’t help but notice the little sliver of smooth skin that peeks out from where his shirt slides up as he stretches. He needs to stop being so casually sexy right now or you might go crazy. “Cross your fingers though, ‘cause I dunno if I have any eggs.”

⋆⁺₊❅ ⁺₊❆⋆

Currently standing in a neat line across the countertop are all the gathered ingredients necessary for the cookies. Jisung had miraculously acquired two eggs from the depths of his fridge, which now sit next to the flour, and you had spent a good five minutes opening and closing cabinets in search of all the dry ingredients.

You’ve baked a couple of times before. Granted, the first time the cookies were still soft in the middle and the second time may or may not have involved the fire department, but third time’s the charm right? You’re determined to make and eat these cookies.

Next to you, Jisung is staring at the ingredients, hands on his hips. Seemingly at a loss, he looks over to you for instructions.

“Okay, step one: combine the dry ingredients…”

So far, so good. Jisung was put in charge of the flour mixture, while you had started the task of creaming the butter and sugar together.

When you glance up to check on Jisung after a bit, you find him leveling out a scoop of flour, meticulously brushing any stray lumps of powder off of the top with a butter knife. His eyes squint in concentration until he is satisfied with the measurement, proceeding to dump it into the bowl. A faint cloud of white powder dusts the air.

You watch him with amusement as he scoops another cup out of the flour bag, starting the whole process over again.

He must have felt you staring, because his head darts up, eyes finding yours. You quickly duck your head back towards your work.

You wonder if Jisung is a perfectionist with most things in his life. He’s mentioned before that he writes and produces music, you figure that has a certain degree of perfectionism to it. Then again, during the car ride here your feet were resting on several bags of fast food from various restaurants. Maybe his perfectionism is selective.

The undeveloped batter clings to the mixer as you switch it off and pull it out of the bowl. You swipe a finger over one of the whisks and pop it in your mouth. It might just be sugar and butter, but hey, that shit’s good.

Turning your head to offer Jisung a taste, you let out a gasp of surprise upon realizing that he’s standing right behind you. He leans forward, lowkey trapping you between him and the counter as he crosses an arm around you to scoop up some of the mixture from the edge of the bowl. Your breath catches at his proximity. His warm breath brushes againt your neck, causing a shiver to run up your spine.

He draws away, licking his finger while you remain frozen in place. What happened to him keeping a good distance from you? You don’t think he even realizes what he just did, because he just strolls on back to his little station, quietly humming a tune as he goes.

⋆⁺₊❅ ⁺₊❆⋆

As soon as the oven door slams shut, Jisung is immediately squatted in front of it, dutifully watching the uniform balls of dough through the yellow tint of the oven light.

“You know those will take, like, thirteen minutes to cook, right?” Leaning over the countertop, you raise an eyebrow at his crouched form.

“Thirteen? No way. I’ll basically be dead by then.” Jisung stands up, brushing some of the remaining flour off his pants. That’s when you notice a patch of white just above his left eyebrow. How did that even happen?

You step forward without thinking, reaching up to rub the spot off with your thumb. His skin is ridiculously soft, and you find your treacherous fingers lingering for probably longer than was strictly necessary.

Jisung’s eyes are twice as wide as normal as you pull your hand away. He blinks at you and swallows, causing his throat to bob up and down.

Oh so now he’s flustered. You’re beginning to think your little crush is reciprocated after all.

Momentarily confident, you send him a sweet smile.

“That’s better.”

Jisung doesn't say anything in return, but you don't think you’re imagining the slight red tint to his ears.

Three loud beeps announce that the cookies have completed their oven time and are now ready to be taken out and consumed.

Jisung arms himself with oven mitts and carefully slides the cookie tray out of the oven and onto the potholders that you had placed on the countertop a few minutes prior.

They look good. Like, really good. You can feel your mouth starting to water.

“Holy shit, I think we actually did it! Thank God they didn't catch on fire this time,” you exclaim, poking one experimentally with a finger.

Jisung’s eyebrows fly up and he shoots you a bewildered look.

“I thought you said you could cook??”

“Hey now, I never said that…”

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

Throughout the night, you have become painfully aware of the fact that you are wearing jeans.

Thankfully, since you were heading to your family’s house anyways, you have an entire suitcase packed with the works. Your comfy pajamas from last year are sounding really good right now.

Jisung is propped up on the corner of the couch with a cookie in one hand and his phone in the other. His cheeks are stuffed with probably half of said cookie right now, making him look like some sort of rodent. It’s cute.

You need to ask him where his bathroom is to change, but you find yourself hesitating. Jisung looks up at you with a confused expression and a cookie crumb clinging to his cheek.

Realizing that you’re just looming over the side of his couch ominously, you are quick to blurt out your question.

“Do you know where the bathroom is?”

Goddamnit. Of course he knows where his own fucking bathroom is. What kind of question is that?

Jisung, luckily, seems to have found it amusing, his eyes squinting up as he lets out a hearty laugh. Which almost, almost, makes up for the fact that you just asked the stupidest question in the history of mankind. It doesn’t stop your cheeks from heating up though.

“Yeah, I think it’s down the hallway to the left,”

He’s playing along. You wonder if he has any idea how much better that makes you feel as you break into a wide smile and thank him, scurrying off to go grab your…

Suitcase.

Your suitcase. Where was it? You don’t remember bringing it to Jisung’s place, where could it be? Did you- oh. You remember your dingy little car, sitting out there in the gas station parking lot. Your dingy little car that happened to have your suitcase in it.

Sometimes you surprise yourself, because how can one be this much of a mess? Everything has gone wrong tonight, and now this? You couldn’t even make it to your family’s house to surprise them. The weight of it all is beginning to crush you, forcing tears to well up in your eyes.

Stopping in the hallway around the corner, out of Jisung’s eyeshot, you shove your impending emotions down your throat, the roughness of the wall against your fist keeping you steady. You are not going to cry right now. You’ll find a solution. You just need to calm down first. Closing your eyes, you take in deep breaths, letting each exhale push you farther away from tears.

Once you’re sure you have yourself under control, you consider your options. You could ask Jisung for something to wear, or you could remain uncomfortable in your jeans for the remainder of the night. Now, you wouldn’t be upset about wearing Jisung’s clothes, not even in the slightest. They’d probably smell like him, too. How that man always smells so damn good is beyond you.

He’ll understand if you ask him for his clothes. You know he will. Hopefully, he won’t take it in the wrong way. It’s not like you want to wear his clothes, you just have to because you don’t have any other option.

Yeah no, you really just want to wear his clothes.

Rounding the corner, you expect to see Jisung on the couch only to find that he’s no longer in his spot, or in the living room, for that matter. He’s not in the kitchen either (which still has various baking supplies and smears of flour scattered about. You make a mental note to clean that up later). Huh. Maybe he went to his room. You settle down on the couch to wait for him, busying yourself with counting your knuckles.

Sock-padded footsteps cause your head to perk up in their direction. Jisung emerges from his room, closing the door behind him with his foot. His face lights up when he finds you on the couch.

“I wasn’t sure if you had brought any PJs or not, so, I grabbed some things you can wear,” He says, then seems to check himself and quickly adds, “If you want! You don’t, like, have to or anything, just thought I would offer.” In his arms he carries a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie.

You could kiss him right now.

“Oh my God, Jisung, are you sure?”

“Yeah, of course, it’s no problem at all.” He reassures you.

Jisung had offered the clothes purely out of wanting to make sure you’re comfortable. Sleeping in jeans is pretty awful and he didn’t see you bring a suitcase or anything. Maybe he also wanted to give you his clothes but that’s irrelevant.

He watches as you skip off to the bathroom to change with a newfound pep to your step. Jisung shakes his head, grinning despite himself. You’re just so damn cute.

This storm might just be the best thing that’s happened to Jisung in a while. Getting to spend time with you? And on Christmas Eve no less. If you’d have told him that yesterday, he wouldn't have believed it one bit. It’s like all his prayers have been answered.

He finds himself wondering, what were your plans before you called him for help? Are you upset that you’re here, at his place, instead of wherever you were heading to? Jisung hopes not. As much as he’s happy you’re here to keep him company, he can’t help but worry about how you’re feeling about the situation.

As if on cue, you appear once again at the entrance to the hallway. This time though, you’re all cozyed up in his clothes.

Jisung’s eyes widen as he takes in the sight of you. The sweats nearly swallow your feet whole, and his hoodie— which is oversized in the first place—fits almost comically large on your frame; hanging off of one shoulder.

It’s not the exposed shoulder that gets him necessarily, this isn’t the 19th century, it’s the fact that you’re in his clothes and in his house.

He swallows.

“You look- you, uh, yeah. You look good. Warm?”

Jisung’s reaction tells you all you need to know. You laugh in response.

“Mhm! Add this to the list of things I definitely owe you for,”

“Pshh, nah don’t even worry about it, i’m happy to help,” Jisung figures that if he doesn’t look at you too hard, he’ll be able to keep his brain from short-circuiting. “Do you want to watch a movie or something?” Sparing a careful glance back up at you, he pats the couch to back up his offer.

The couch dips as you plop down next to him, sporting that smile of yours that has him weak. You had looked so distraught just a couple of minutes ago, and just the simple act of him offering his clothes and a movie had brought your spirits right up. Cute.

Jisung rests his chin on his hand and listens as you lay out your christmas movie options, but he’s only half-paying attention. He knows that he’ll enjoy whatever movie you choose, as long as you’re there to watch it with him.

He also knows that he’s probably more than a little bit head over heels for you.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

The smell of freshly-microwaved popcorn fills the room as you and Jisung take your respective places on the couch, the silent agreement apparently being to keep at least a foot between your bodies at all times

You settle in and get comfortable while the opening credits roll across the screen. Jisung is tossing some popcorn in his mouth, having already eaten nearly half of his bag. You get the feeling that he’s going to be asking to steal some of your popcorn sooner or later.

Even with him being a foot away, you are hyper-aware of his presence. The movie is starting, but you know there’s no way you are going to able to maintain any sort of attention span with Jisung sitting right there.

Still facing towards the screen, you sneak a quick look at him from the corner of your eye, only to find his eyes already trained on you.

The unexpected eye contact makes your heart jump to your throat, and you quickly jerk your gaze back to the television.

Why was he looking at you? Is he still looking? You consider turning again to check, but then decide against it, preferring to live in ignorance for the time being. You’re not sure you can deal with knowing he’s looking at you right now.

Not even ten minutes into the movie, a particularly loud whistle of wind rushes past the windows. The lights flicker once. And then again.

Fuck.

You barely have time to turn and look at a now wide-eyed Jisung before both of you are plunged into absolute darkness.

A small yelp of terror escapes from Jisung, and you feel his weight shift on the couch.

Blinking rapidly as though that would make the lights magically turn back on, you find yourself scooting towards Jisung. A heartbeat of silence passes, with only the sound of your and Jisung’s soft breaths cutting through the darkness.

“The power’s out,” He observes helpfully, voice noticably higher than it’s normal tenor.

“No shit.” You pull out your phone to turn on the flashlight, illuminating your faces. Jisung squeezes his eyes shut at the sudden intrusion of light, peeking one eye open at you after a moment.

The light reveals that he is a lot closer than you had thought. Barely an inch of space was left between your legs, and you swear you can feel warmth radiating off of him. Huh. That little mole on his face is visible from here.

Jisung swallows hard (apparently a habit of his) and quickly combs a hand through his hair, pulling himself up from the couch.

“Hold on, I think I have a candle somewhere,” He still looks a bit frazzled, but heads towards the kitchen nonetheless.

You turn and cross your arms over the back of the couch, illuminating his path.

“You do, it’s on the counter,” You point at it, having noticed it earlier when you’d first arrived. “‘Spiced apple toddy’, huh?”

You grin at the offended look on Jisung’s face as he approaches, candle and lighter in hand.

“Hey! They’re seasonal,” he objects to your teasing, placing the candle on the coffee table.

T he lighter sparks into a flame as Jisung drops back down on the couch and lights the candle, bathing your surroundings in a soft, warm light.

Well. So much for the Christmas movie.

“That sucks, I really wanted to see what was going to happen to Frosty this year,” Jisung mirrors your thoughts with a sigh, crossing one ankle over his leg and shaking his head with a tsk.

You giggle, giving him a light shove on the shoulder. In the back of your mind, you feel like you should be upset about yet another thing going wrong tonight. But how could something be wrong, really, when Jisung is smiling like that. Smiling like that because of you. The thought ignites little butterflies in your stomach.

The power doesn't seem to have any plans to turn on again anytime soon, so you and Jisung break out a deck of cards. Turns out he’s a big trash talker when it comes to competition, which has you laughing your head off at the creative insults he throws at you. Seriously, how does he come up with these?

After losing your third game of speed, you realize that goosebumps have began to form all up and down your arms. Not wanting Jisung to notice, you try to smooth them down as nonchalantly as possible.

Of course, he immediately notices.

“Are you cold?” He furrows his eyebrows in concern, drawing his attention away from his hand of cards to you.

“Nope!” A shiver decides that it’s the right moment to shake your whole body. “Okay maybe a little,” you admit, “but I’m totally fine, it’s not bad at all.”

In all honesty, that was a complete lie. It’s cold as shit. You just hope your smile is enough to distract from your clenched teeth and slightly runny nose.

Jisung raises an eyebrow at you skeptically, obviously not buying it.

“So I guess if I got a blanket, you wouldn't want it, right?”

“Hey, thats not-” you start to protest to him poking fun at you, but your confidence shrivels when Jisung places his cards on the table, batting his eyes at you in mock attention.

It’s flustering, to say the least. He directly offered you the solution to your discomfort, and didn’t really leave you with the choice to say no. Which, you decide, is kinda hot. That seems to describe most of what Jisung does, though.

You drop your hands down on the table in defeat. “Fine. Can I please have a blanket?”

As a response to your request, Jisung simply hoists himself up once more, tapping you twice on the top of the head as he passes.

“Attagirl.”

The sideways grin he flashes you tells you that he knows exactly the effect that that little word had on your insides.

He’s going to be the death of you.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

You had just barely managed to compose yourself when Jisung returns with not one, not two, but an entire armful of blankets. In favor of just dropping them all on the couch, he decides to launch both himself and the blankets onto the couch simultaniously. His legs fly up behind him as he lands belly-down onto the pile of blankets, face buried in the soft fabric.

Whether he’s trying to draw out a laugh or not, you bark out a laugh that’s probably louder than the situation called for. You slap a hand over your mouth in embarrassment as he lifts himself up to sit on the empty cushion of the couch.

It’s intresting, the way he moves. Every motion so natural, every curve so perfect, it traps your attention to him like a moth to a flame. His muscles are lean, tensing when he pushes himself up. You follow the lightest trace of a vein trailing down from his bicep to his hand, absentmindedly wondering how his hand would feel in yours. Wondering if he would ever so lightly run his fingers over the back of your hand, your collarbone, your jaw…

“So do you want a blanket or what?” Jisung waves his hand, snapping you out of your head. You hope he hadn’t noticed the way you were essentially ogling him just now. He most likely had though, given how annoyingly observant he’s proven to be.

The corners of Jisung’s mouth quirk up, a witheld laugh brimming behind his eyes. Okay scratch that, he definitely noticed.

Too humiliated to say anything, you take a seat next to him and toss a blanket over your head. The outside noises dim significantly from under the shelter of the blanket. The blanket that— unfortunately for you and your creative imagination— smells quite strongly of Jisung. You find yourself having to refrain from burying your face in the cloth. Because that would be weird.

It’s warm at least. Staying here forever sounds like a good plan.

A wave of fresh, cool air washes over you as the edge of the blanket lifts up to reveal Jisung peeking in at you.

“May I join you?”

You nod, hoping the darkness will conceal your flushed face. Jisung scootches to sit next to you and flicks the blanket back over both of your forms. Darkness encases you once more, only this time you aren’t alone.

Jisung’s phone light shines out, lighting up your faces in such a way that makes you think he might break into some cheesy horror story; the kind that you were genuinely terrified of in second grade.

He’s close. Like, really close. You could count his eyelashes if you wanted.

His eyes crinkle slightly as he gives you a little close-mouthed smile. He looks so lovely right now, you can’t help but smile right back at him. Except your smile definitely isn't lovely since you’re cheesing so hard.

When he chuckles, a breath of warm air puffs over your face, making you warmer than you think you’ve ever been.

Despite being a good bodily temprature already, the urge to wrap your arms around Jisung and bask in his physical presence is getting stronger by the second.

“I’m still cold.” The words tumble from your mouth before you can stop them, such a blatant untruth that it makes your heart speed up.

Jisung’s head drops, shoulders bouncing slightly with silent laughter.

As if your ears couldn't get any hotter than they were already.

“Still cold, huh? You know what’s crazy?” He leans in just a touch further as if about to tell you some great secret, his voice quieting almost to a whisper. “Me too.”

Jisung arm wraps around your shoulders, and he turns you sideways, pulling you flush to him. How you seem to fit perfectly in the curve of his side, you’ll never know. Resting your head down on his shoulder and tentatively reaching a hand up to curl on his chest, you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. His heartbeat pounds in your ear, slower than your own jumping pulse, but much louder.

Wrapped in Jisung’s arms, you are definitely warmer than before. Which—since you really weren’t cold in the first place— has you sweating, the space under the blanket suddenly feeling small and suffocating.

You toss the top of the blanket off of your heads, inhaling the cold, crisp air now available to your lungs.

You’re not sure what comes over you. maybe it was the way that he tilts his head back to lean on the back of the couch, or maybe it was the little sigh he lets out, his breath just barely visible in the chilled air surrounding you. The hand that’s gently rubbing up and down your upper arm definitely isn't helping either.

You reach up and plant a chaste kiss to his cheek.

Jisung instantly tenses under you, every muscle tightening. You pull back to look at him, finding him frozen, staring straight ahead. a gorgeous pink tint graces his cheeks.

Always so confident until he’s the one being flirted with. Cute.

He’s silent and still for just a hint too long, and you start to get worried. Did you read the energy wrong? Was he just being nice?

You open your mouth to blurt out some sort of apology, but Jisung turns his head to look at you, eyes wide, searching your own. Your mouth snaps shut.

“Can you do that again?” His request is quiet and mumbled, nervousness evident in the way his knee starts to bounce up and down rapidly.

You reach up to grab his chin, his skin soft beneath your fingers. He’s real. He’s here and under your fingertips, gazing at you like you hung the moon.

You lean in, but pause to hover just millimeters away from his lips, your breaths mingling in the space between.

It’s not until Jisung makes a noise in his throat that is somewhere between a huff and a whine that you close the final distance between you two.

A white-hot flame ignites in your stomach when your mouths connect, only blazing brighter when Jisung runs his hand up the length of your back to rest it on the back of your head, holding you softly but firmly to him.

He wants you, everything about you. And you want him too, you always have.

When you part, you let out a breathless giggle. What just happened?

It seems as though Jisung is feeling the same way, a look of disbelief of his face as his eyes flick between your own.

“Thank you.” The two words that you’ve been skirting around all night finally slip past your lips.

“For what, the kiss? Anytime, babe.” He sends you an over-exaggerated wink, which of course doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but it is drowned out by the slightly more pressing fact that he just called you ‘babe’.

Not that you mind. At all, actually.

“First of all, I’m the one who gave you the kiss, thank you very much, and secondly I just- well, it just means, y’know, a lot to me that you picked me up… and stuff…” You wince as your confidence audibly dwindles, looking at the couch beside him, “So yeah, thank you. So much. I don’t know what I would have done without you tonight.”

“Hey, hey,” He brings your chin back up to look at him. “Seriously, it was no trouble at all. To be honest, I was so not looking forward to being alone on Christmas eve.” His gaze lightens, “So really, I should be thanking you because this is probably the best thing that could have happened to me.”

His genuine words paired with that soft look on his face make you realize that you wouldn’t rather be anywhere else or with anyone else tonight.

For the nth time tonight, you smile.

[corroded-hellfire]

My gorgeous soulmate. The love of my life. I can’t stop thinking about Reader waiting for a ride and accidentally overhearing Eddie talking to the Hellfire guys about some beautiful girl and how he’s afraid to ask her out. Reader assumes it’s someone else and leaves because she’s upset and doesn’t want him to see her. Bonus points for wingman Dusty Bun, but not necessary. Okay love you byeeeeee xoxoxo @munson-blurbs 💚

Hello, my darling dearest. I hope you enjoy this and I love you too! 💕

Words: 1.5k

Band practice ran late, but that didn’t matter one bit. Your older brother was always running behind to pick you up, leaving you the lone person sitting outside the school, waiting. Usually, you had a book with you, but you’d finished your last one and hadn’t gotten a chance to check a new one out of the library today. Honestly, the fierce autumn wind may have prevented you from reading anyway; the pages would be obeying Mother Nature, not you. The wind whistles and whips so viciously that you slide off of the brick wall you’re sitting on top of and seat yourself on the cold sidewalk, pressing as close to the wall as you can to avoid the harsh blowing.

Luckily, the gust eases up and you only end up having four leaves stuck to your clothing. As you’re picking them from your gray sweater, you hear the telltale squeak of the main doors of the school opening. Your brow creases in confusion because you didn’t realize anyone else was here this late. The dark evening has your mind floating back to the dozens of slasher movies you’ve seen that started with this very scenario. Taking care to be as quiet as possible, you tuck your legs up against your body as you hug your backpack to your chest.

“Damn Eddie, I’ve never heard you talk this way before.”

The voice is vaguely familiar. Nancy’s brother maybe? Right! He’s in Hellfire with Eddie Munson, who must be the Eddie he’s speaking to. An involuntary smile curls on your lips at the boy you’re head over heels for being just a few feet away. The closer they get, the easier it is for you to hear the thunk of the metalhead’s boots coming down the sidewalk. 

“Ugh, I know,” Eddie says, a hint of a whine in his happy-go-lucky voice. “But she’s so fuckin’ beautiful.”

The butterflies in your stomach sour, churning at hearing Eddie talk this way about some girl. He’s not doing anything wrong, and logically you know that. He doesn’t owe you anything. But irritation bubbles up in you as a defense from the heartbreak you’re desperately trying to run away from. Your fingers dig into your backpack as you squeeze your eyes closed to prevent the tears from leaking out.

“Ask her out!” That voice was Jeff’s—from your history class.

Eddie scoffs and you can just picture him shaking his head, his frizzy curls swaying back and forth. The thought of Eddie asking a girl out forces the hot tears to leak down your face, despite how tightly you’ve been keeping them closed. 

“Like she would want to go out with me,” he says. 

Now your heart also breaks for Eddie. Who could be so stupid as to not want to go out with him?

“Aww, I think you’re scared,” another voice goads. Probably the curly-haired boy that’s friends with the Wheeler boy. 

“I’m not scared,” Eddie says. “I’m just…afraid.”

“That’s the same thing!” Wheeler says before you hear a thump and the boy mutters an, “Ow!”

“Shut it, Wheeler. I don’t want to hear shit from you or Henderson on girls. Both of your girls live far away. Huh, kind of convenient, isn’t it?” Eddie asks. “They’re probably as real as the damn hair on top of Higgin’s head.”

“Hey!” Wheeler shouts.

“That’s bullshit!” the boy who must be Henderson shouts at the same time.

“You guys are letting him change the subject,” Jeff says. “When are you going to ask her out?”

Instead of giving an answer, you can hear Eddie grumbling under his breath the closer they get to you. It won’t be long now before they’ll walk past the wall and see you sitting on the ground. Waiting for a ride is easy enough to explain, but the tear tracks running down your face are a different matter. 

Before the group of guys can get any closer, you carefully push yourself onto your knees. Balancing yourself against the wall with one hand, you seek out somewhere you can hide. The corner of the wall is pretty far away, you’d never be able to crawl there fast enough. If you stand up though, you could walk that distance. Realizing crouching down so far is going to kill your back, you push up to your feet and keep your torso and head low as you speedwalk to the corner of the wall. 

Luckily, it’s just a grassy lawn on the other side of the wall, so you throw yourself down on it and catch your breath. Unluckily, you hear the piercing whine of your brother’s car pulling up towards Hawkins High. Fuck. Of course he comes now. 

You peek out from your safe space around the wall and see that Eddie and the rest of the Hellfire gang are climbing into Eddie’s van. A rush of breath leaves your lungs and you’re sure your adrenaline is about to come crashing down.

Your brother pulls up to the curb and you push yourself off of the grass and quickly slide into the passenger’s seat. 

“Uh, you okay?” your brother asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Fine,” you huff. “Just go.”

Like the piece of gum you’d stepped in last week, the sharp pains in your heart stay with you much longer than you’d like. The next day, right before last period, you’re at your locker, switching out your books and hoping your eyes don’t look as puffy as they feel.

“Uh, hey.”

The voice makes you jump and drop your biology book. You don’t have to turn around to know who it is; you’d know that voice anywhere. It’s just never been so close to your ear before.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” Eddie says as he bends down to pick up your book. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, it’s okay,” you manage to say as you turn around to face him. “Thank you,” you say as he gives you your science book back. 

Eddie clears his throat and glances over his shoulder before looking back at you—or rather, your shoes. Curious, you follow the line of sight where Eddie had just looked, and you see the curly-haired boy from Hellfire peeking around the corner. Henderson. As soon as he notices you looking, he pops back out of sight. 

“I, uh,” Eddie says as he finds the courage to meet your eye. “Hey.”

“You said that,” you say with a shy smile. “But then I freaked out, so…hi.”

The smile Eddie gives you isn’t his biggest by far, but it still makes your knees go wobbly. 

“You’re in band, right?” Eddie asks, reaching up and scratching the back of his neck. 

“I am.”

“Yeah. So, I was wondering if maybe after the game this Friday you might want to grab a bite to eat? With, um, me?”

The world freezes around you, time completely stopping. Your body is locked in place as you stare at Eddie with wide eyes. He just asked me out, you think. Why would he ask me out? He thinks that other girl is beauti—holy shit. I’m the beautiful girl he was talking about? This defies all that you thought you knew in the world. Is this a parallel universe where guys actually like you back? You realize you’ve just been staring at him since you spoke.

“Yeah. T-That sounds nice,” you say.

“Really?” Eddie’s eyes light up and your heart comes to a halt inside your chest.

“Yes,” you say with a small chuckle.

“Wow. Awesome. Okay, wow.” His disbelief shocks you. How in the hell was he afraid to ask you out? You’re just…you. He gives you a wider grin now before tugging up the sleeve of his leather jacket. “Do you have a pen?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah!” You grab a pen from your locker and write down your number on Eddie’s pale skin, right below a colony of inked bats. 

“Great,” Eddie says as he pulls his sleeve back down. “Um, I’ll wait in the gym after the game?”

“Sure. It’ll only take me a few minutes to change and get everything put away.”

“Awesome,” Eddie says again, and seeing him acting this nervous just tickles you pink. You’re not sure you’ve ever heard him say “awesome” before and now he’s said it twice within the last minute. “I guess I’ll see you in English tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. Oh, Eddie, wait. You’re going to go to the game?” You raise your eyebrows in disbelief. “I thought you hated basketball.”

“Oh. Well, I do,” he says with a chuckle. “Easier to take you out after the game if I’m there, though. And, uh, you know, Sinclair’s been bugging me to come see him play.”

“Right,” you say. 

Eddie’s cheeks turn a light red as he gives you a bashful smile. 

“See you later, beautiful,” he says. He doesn’t give you time to even react to his words before he’s heading down the hall. 

“Holy shit,” you whisper to yourself. “I make Eddie nervous?”

A jovial giggle slips past your lips as you close your locker. You feel like you owe the Hellfire guys a thank you. 

[rainylana]

Taste on an Image: New neighbor

Eddie Munson x female reader

a little longer than my usually one of these! just a fluffy blurb! no warnings!

“Why don’t you go say hi instead of standing there gawking.” Wayne shook his head, closing the door to the trailer as he gave his nephew a once over.

Eddie jumped, surprised by his uncle’s appearance. “I’m not gawking.” He swallowed. “I’m observing from afar.”

“Well whatever it is you’re doing is probably freaking her out.” Wayne pointed to you outside in the yard, a few trailers down the road as you hung clothes outside on your line.

“She doesn’t even know I’m here.” Eddie rolled his eyes, leaning against the mailbox. “Geez, she sure is pretty, ain’t she?”

“Yeah.” Wayne gave a gruff nod. “Go talk to her. Be neighborly. God knows no one else around here will be.” He patted his nephews shoulder and went inside, leaving the boy alone with his thoughts.

You’d moved in just a few days ago, gaining the attention of Eddie like bees to honey. You were gorgeous, and by the looks of it, single. He readjusted his jacket and slicked back his hair, wiping his mouth with his sleeve to make sure no absent crumbs were festering on his mouth. Last thing he wanted was to embarrass himself.

Eddie walked down the gravel road, waving awkwardly at the neighbors he past that were halfway drunk for the weekend.

“Hello.” He called out to you, standing near your mailbox.

You spun around, smile on your face that nearly made him fall flat on his back, and took a step forward. “Hi!”

God, he was in love already.

“Hi.” He repeated again, lifting up a hand he wasn’t sure what he was doing with. “Hi, I’m Eddie Munson. We’re neighbors. I live just a few trailers down.” He pointed down the road to his house, blushing as he did so.

“Oh, how nice!” You beamed, setting down your laundry. “I’m y/n.” You quickly walked toward him, extending your hand for him to shake. “Nice to meet you. It’s sweet of you to come introduce yourself. No one has yet. I was starting to think I wasn’t wanted.” You laughed, tucking your hands in your pockets.

Your authenticity of casualness made his nerves settle. “Yeah, well, the people are weary of strangers.” He shook his head. “There’s a lot of kids around here, too, so be careful when you leave. I almost run one over every time I pull out of my driveway.” He chuckled, brown eyes crinkling under the sun.

You laughed and he swore it made his heart swell. Two minutes in and he was already whipped.

“Is it just you?” He asked, peaking over your shoulder and back at your home.

“Just me.” You pursed your lips. “I’m from Chicago. I used to work in the news paper office downtown but decided I needed a change of scenery.” You shrugged your shoulders, the wind barely whistling over your words.

“I run the mechanic shop here in town with my uncle.” Eddie pointed over his shoulder down to his home. “I live with him. Have ever since I was a boy.”

“Well I’d love to meet him sometime!” You smiled. “Maybe you can show me around town later this week? If you don’t mind, of course.”

“I’d be honored to escort you.” He smirked, giving you a wink that made you snicker. “Just give me a day. There’s a great diner that I can sweet talk the waitresses in giving us free desert.”

“You seem like you’re good at sweet talking.” You give him a playful look, crossing your arms.

“Well, I don’t like to brag.” He held out his arms, closing his eyes briefly in a smug look.

You tucked your hair behind your ear, looking back to your clothes line that was blowing in the wind. “I’d invite you in for something to drink but I’m afraid I’m not quiet finished unpacking yet.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He held out a ringed hand. “You need any help? Wayne and I would be happy to assist.”

“No, thank you.” You shook your head politely. “I’ll be finished soon. It’s mostly just my clothes and some decorations. I really don’t have that much.”

He could almost feel his uncle’s eyes searing into the back of his head.

“Well, I just wanted to introduce myself.” He stepped back. “Let us know if you need anything. Oh! And remember,” He pointed to your car. “You’ve got a mechanic for a neighbor if you ever need one.”

He left while he was ahead, feeling confident that he hadn’t embarrassed himself. He smiled the whole walk home, fists clenched in a celebratory manor as he practically skipped inside.

“Well?” Wayne asked, leaning against the fridge.

“What do you mean well?” Eddie snorted. “Like you didn’t stare at us the whole time through the window.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The man hid his smirk behind his mud of coffee.

“She’s nice.” He plopped down on the couch. “She smiles a lot. She’s beautiful. I don’t know, Wayne, this might be the girl of my dreams.” Eddie laughed, shaking his head with pursed lips.

“Uh-huh.” Wayne rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t start planning a wedding yet, son.”

[burreauxwrites]

“K-I-S-S-I-N-G” - (andrei iosivas x reader)

description: ja’marr and tee tease you about your crush on andrei, employing the good old “sitting in a tree” nursery rhyme. but actually…it turned out to become a reality.

word count: 1.8k

warnings: andrei x reader, reader is apart of the social media team, tee and ja’marr are goofy bffs (joe is the somewhat reasonable one), fluff, kissing, a bit of swearing. really just a cute blurb overall! :)

“andrei and y/n sitting in a tree!”

“ja’marr. tee.” you sighed.

“K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

you groaned. this would be the very last time you ever told ja’marr and tee anything. at least joe wasn’t obnoxious about any secrets. plus, knowing how hardworking he is, he’d probably have forgotten by time he gets home and sleeps.

upon sensing your annoyance, joe hushed his two best friends down. “okay, guys,” he said, smacking their shoulders, “that’s enough.”

ja’marr caught his breath, looking at you curiously. “okay, but…when did this crush start?”

you shrugged. to be honest, you could never exactly recall when your little crush on andrei started. crushing on people was not exactly your thing. but ever since you became part of the social media team and got closer to the players over time, you just kind of…liked him. he made you laugh the most, and he just had the most charming smile that you’d ever seen.

“don’t know,” you answered, folding your arms.

“well…he is nearby if you want to tell him.” tee nudged your shoulder.

“cmon, man. she aint gonna do that!” ja’marr interjected, making tee laugh.

at that, you gave the both of them a deadpan stare as they burst into laughter again. you look at joe, who seems to be holding back a chuckle of his own.

“yeah, um…i don’t see you telling yoshi that you like him. no offense.” joe added, shaking his head.

the problem is…they didn’t lie. you were extremely introverted as it is; plus, you had this tendency to be very quiet and pretend that you have no crush at all. it was kind of easier that way. but the fact that these three knuckleheads were teasing you made you want to prove them wrong.

and so, you turned on your heels and walked away, leading to some cheers from ja’marr and tee as they started whistling. meanwhile, joe watched, giving you a thumbs up as you looked back.

you couldn’t believe you were doing this.

soon enough, you found andrei, letting out an anxious sigh. you easily could just walk away, and nothing could ever come of this. but here you were.

“oh, hey, y/n!” andrei grinned at you, patting your head briefly.

“hey,” you chuckled, fixing your head as you look at him. “how’s the practice going?” you asked, folding your arms a little. “working hard, or hardly working?”

andrei chuckled; curse him and his attractive laugh. though, he everything that he did was attractive. it was like he didn’t have to try. and that pissed you off a bit. all he had to do was stand there and you’d fall for him. it was pathetic on your part, kind of. but who could blame you? you saw people’s tiktok edits of him. so it wasn’t just you who had the hots for him.

“working hard or hardly working,” he said, pretending to ponder, “i mean, it’s been a relatively easy day. so, i’d say the latter.” he nodded, watching as some of the other players did some drills out in the field. the weather was nice, the wind slightly blowing your hair a bit.

you nodded along as well, also watching the players run some drills. however, you were busy thinking about what on earth to say. conveying your feelings verbally wasn’t your thing. hell, conveying your feelings period wasn’t your thing; you’d rather do anything else than put your feelings into words, especially when it comes to some…crush.

before you could speak, andrei wrapped an arm around your shoulder, looking down at you.

“so. i heard ja’marr and tee earlier,” he said, raising an eyebrow, “seems like they were…bugging you about something.”

fuck. he heard? why must this happen to you?

“it was nothing. just them being ridiculous like usual.” you shook your head in denial.

“really? because ‘andrei and y/n sitting in a tree’ doesn’t sound like nothing to me.” he teased, shaking you a little.

your face burned in embarrassment. quite frankly, you felt like dying. this was humiliating. so humiliating. but at least this saved you a little bit of explaining.

“well. i guess i have a crush on you,” you admitted, sighing a little, “but don’t think i’m telling you this because you know now. i would’ve told you eventually.”

andrei laughed. you were funny. because this whole time, he knew you liked him. it was an obvious thing to him really. you lit up like a lightbulb when it came to filming tiktok videos for the official account, and you let him make all sorts of inside jokes with you. nine times out of ten, you were stoic, all business, very polite. but that little sliver of energy and joy came out when he was around.

“you’re not slick, y/n. honestly, i kind of figured you liked me.” he squeezed your shoulder, pulling you closer.

“oh.”

“pfft, ‘oh’ is correct,” he grinned at your reaction. “if you want though, we can hang out later tonight.”

“yeah…! i’d like that.” you nodded, your voice filled with a bit of excitement.

‘that was cute,’ andrei thought. he knew you enjoyed his presence and all, but seeing you so thoroughly joyed to spend time with him was precious.

“great. i gotta get back to practice though,” he pulled away, ruffling your hair once again, “see ya later, cutie.”

as he headed off to do more drills, you stood there. dumbfounded. in a way, you owed it to ja’marr and tee. if they weren’t being as obnoxious as they were, this probably wouldn’t have happened.

_________

it was late at night, the stars twinkling brightly in the sky. the vibe was pretty casual overall, as you and andrei talked about life events and other things. it was nice, really. mostly because you were with the guy you’ve admired for a while, but that’s besides the point.

the both of you spotted a massive oak tree in a desolate area of the park. deciding to take a bit of a risk you guys decided to sit in it. finding a sturdy branch, andrei took your hand, helping you up and making sure you were comfortable next to him.

but, he didn’t let go of your hand. you didn’t mind though; in fact, it made you quite happy.

“y/n,” andrei spoke up after a moment, looking over at you, “do you know how amazing you are?”

that was a difficult question. because honestly, you didn’t know. you kind of just…existed. you did whatever you felt like doing. but to have someone like you like that and find your unapologetic personality worth liking…it made you happy.

“well…no, but you can tell me more, if you want.” you smiled, curious to see if he’d expand a bit more on his words.

“you’re just…awesome,” he began, looking at you fondly, “first of all, you’re pretty. stunning, even,” he smiled, “but on top of that, you’re just…different. i honestly thought you were just standoffish at first, but you’re probably one of the funniest people i know.”

“funny…? please…you’re the funny one. i only laugh because of you, really.” you shook your head as you nudged andrei’s side.

“then, i’ll wear that like a badge of honor.” andrei laughed, squeezing your hand tightly as you leaned against him.

you sighed, smiling as you rested your head against his shoulder, looking at the stars.

“i just think you bring out the best in me.” you stated, peeking up at him with a tender gaze. “i mean, you make me feel more expressive, more free. i don’t have to be so hardcore all the time around you.”

andrei chuckled, his hand sliding under your chin and lifting your head slightly. the feeling of your skin was soft underneath his fingers, and everything about you looked so beautiful. he was completely enamored by you.

“i’m glad i bring out the best in you, y/n,” he spoke sweetly, his own stare flitting down to your lips momentarily, “i think you bring out the best in me too.”

you let out a faint, contented laugh, leaning into his touch. but his eyes on your lips didn’t go unnoticed by you. you actually…liked it. with an odd feeling of confidence washing over you, you slowly leaned in towards andrei, also scooting in closer to his side.

deciding not to miss this opportunity, he too leaned in, his thumb sweetly caressing your cheek. your lips ever so gently brushed against his for a moment, the sensation sending a shiver through your spine.

you both eventually locked lips, arms wrapping around each other to hold the other as close as possible. it was almost as if the both of you feared the other would drift away.

everything about this moment just felt right. your arms around his shoulders and his own arms around your waist. the kiss was slow and tender, the both of you savoring this moment together; you’d occasionally pull away, sharing a bit of laughter and small pecks on the lip or cheek.

“well…i guess ja’marr and tee were right when they said me and you sitting in a tree.” andrei joked.

“pfft. k-i-s-s-i-n-g?” you added, giggle a little.

“yeah. first comes love, then comes marriage-”

“no babies in carriages, please,” you interject, shaking your head, “i can barely care for myself as is.”

the both of you shared a warm laugh, nudging each other as you joked. you looked at the stars for a moment, catching your breath with a happy smile. and andrei was just as happy as well, his own gaze on you. to him, you were the brightest star there ever was.

“so, cutie,” he started to speak, his hand caressing your waist, “what are we?”

that was a good question. what were you guys? surely not friends; friends don’t kiss in a tree.

you grinned, looking at andrei. “boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“sounds good to me,” he agreed with no hesitation as he stared at you lovingly, “me and you, boyfriend and girlfriend. i don’t think there’s anything better, really.”

and well, you had to agree. there was nothing you wanted more in the world than to be his. though you weren’t the most romantically experienced, you were excited to see where this relationship would go.

you’re interrupted by your thoughts when your stomach began to rumble.

“you’re hungry, huh?” he snickered at the grumbling sound, “how about we go get some burgers. it’s all on me.”

“hmm…do i get a milkshake too?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“whatever my favorite girl wants, she gets it.” andrei insisted, kissing your temple.

the two of you climbed down from the tree, heading to the nearby burger joint. in your mind, you knew ja’marr and tee would flip out and tease you relentlessly after this, but you didn’t care. in the end, you and andrei were in fact sitting in a tree, kissing.

and it was the best moment of your life.

this is my first blurb for someone that’s not joe lmao! but i hope you all enjoyed it! <33

[polarisjisung]

MOTORBIKES & MELATONIN

synopsis: sleep doesn't find you in the comfort of your own home or under the covers tucked safely into your bed— sleep finds you in the warmth of park jisung's arms

wc: 1.1k pairings: jisung × fem!reader, established relationship genre: fluff warnings: insomnia + mentions of using sleeping pills/supplement use of the word drug (literally once), speeding (follow the speed limit 🙏) notes: emosung brainrot is in full swing (though there's not a lot of emosung mentioned) mostly self indulgent so probably not my best work since I was all up in my head but 🤷‍♀️

you're laying on your bed, aimlessly bouncing the soft tennis ball in your hand against the empty space of the wall just above your headboard. sleep never came easy to you and tonight is no different.

you'd tried it all, counting sheep, drinking warm milk, even meditation but nothing ever worked. instead you spent nights tossing and turning restlessly despite being tucked into the warm covers of your bed, chasing sleep.

just as you reach for the purple bottle that lays next to your bed, ready to pour half the jar of supplements into your hand and gulp them down with a glass of water, you hear it.

your perfect form of melatonin and serotonin mixed in one— your drug, your purpose.

the rumble is distinct. it comes with the soft vibration beneath your feet and the deep reverberation in your ears. the roaring of the v twin engine has you shooting up into a seated position as realisation washes over you

there's a dim red glow cast across your room by the break lights as you grab the loose fit leather jacket that rests over the back of your study chair. the woody oriental cologne still lingers through its material as you place it over your shoulders and run out of the front door.

there he is, helmet gripped loosely in his left hand, his right arm open and ready to welcome you into his embrace.

jisung's black hair flows in the wind, his forehead on show— paired with the soft smile he flashes you, you can't help but think he looks perfect.

"didn't even give me a chance to sneak into your room" he sulks taking you in between his arms, giving you a quick spin as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead

"can't blame a girl for wanting to see her boyfriend" you sigh, taking in his warmth with a smile

"yeah?" he pulls back to get a better view of your face, "miss me that much angel?"

"you know it sung"

his laugh is deep yet gentle, eyes sparkling at the sight of you

"well I'm here now"

jisung takes a quick step around you, his touch feather light as he gathers your open hair into a low ponytail, reaching for the hair tie on his wrist to tie it back

"too tight?" he says, voice full of worry and concern— when you shake your head he smiles, placing his helmet over your head

you wonder how people could ever think jisung was anything but the sweet, kind and warm hearted lover you knew, who wouldn't dare let you move an inch to do something he could do for you, like how he gently takes ahold of you in his arms and places you onto the seat of his bike, eventually taking your arms and wrapping them around his waist

"hold on tight" he whispers in that caring tone of his, that's reserved solely for you, ready to whisk you away for the night and you do just that, gripping his waist securely, but not before lifting his visor and pressing a quick kiss to his temple

jisung drives off, wordlessly but with a smile that speaks volumes

there's a warmth that radiates from jisung's body, the only thing keeping you from freezing as the wind rushes past you, blowing with harsh whistles, tyres screeching against the ground as he takes sharp turns through the streets leading towards the countryside

you'd snuck out before, driven way too far over the speed limit, done countless things that would define your reckless youth and yet nothing had your veins coursing with quite so much adrenaline as this, driving way too far, way too fast, with jisung, the person you loved way too much

like always, you find yourself in jisung's lap, god forbid he let you sit on the grass, wet from the fresh morning dew that rests over it, warm hues of orange and light pinks taking over the sky as you hold one another close, the wind still blowing strong gusts your way, your hair blowing in your face until jisung decides to take it between his fingers and hold it back in his palm

"I like this" you whisper, just loud enough that jisung hears it, his lip rising just enough for his teeth to come on show

"I like you" he responds, watching the warm glow of the sun reaching over the horizon through your eyes

"you do?" you smile, wider than you previously had been, it's a smile that reaches your eyes and jisung's unwavering gaze grows brighter at the realisation

"you're my girl, of course I do"

this time it's his turn to press a quick kiss to your forehead, but jisung's greedy, especially so when it comes to you and he can't help but want more, honey brown eyes resting on your lips

"give me a kiss and I think I'll love you forever" you can't help but giggle at the tickling feeling of jisung's hair against your neck as he pouts up at you

"yeah? didn't know my boyfriend needed kisses to do that" you tease with a roll of your eyes

"didn't know your what?" he asks, and you know exactly what jisung's doing, so you whisper the answer with nothing more than a shy smile straight into his ear

"my boyfriend"

"present" jisungs hand is raised and his voice is confident when he looks at you again, it's like he's begging you to tug at his shirt and crash your lips against his, and who were you to say no to him

"you're so cute" you let out between kisses, the bridge of your nose resting against jisung's, who now wears a look of faux offence

"yeah?" he asks, hoping you'll change your mind, though you don't let up, reaching out to ruffle his black hair "only for you"

somewhere between the late hours of the night and the early hours of dawn, between the quietus of your bedroom and the roar of his engine, between gazing up at the stars and watching the sunrise by the harbour— jisung hears your soft snores replace the quiet whispers of awe you once breathed out.

despite it all, jisung's smile remains all the same, radiant, warm and masked by the matte black helmet resting atop his head

[shirakow]

˗ˏˋ꒰ synopsis ꒱ ; you accidentally summoned a demon , and he can't leave without doing something for you: either kill someone, or... Fuck you.

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍇 pair ⋅ ˚✮ ; Devil!Rody Lamoree x FTM!Reader .

. . . words ; 3.5k+

EXTRA ! porn with plot , also request box is open for people who want more studio investigrave related fics !

Summoning demons wasn't really in your bucket list for this year, but somehow, you were pushed to the breaking point. You never thought they'd go this far for an april fools prank.

Sure you've always known they held a small hate for you—actually, small was a bit of an understatement but it's whatever, your anger was far deeper than the dislike they had for you anyway—but you never thought they'd decide to bring you to an abandoned warehouse, topped with a summoning circle drawn on the ground with what you hoped was ketchup, and proceeded to leave.

You never took them for the cultist types, then again, they always did sacrifice you on multiple occasions (those sacrifices being leaving you to take the blame while they ran from the cops for trespassing on private property and a bunch of other things).

A sigh escaped past your lips as you recalled all the times they've done you wrong, and decided that once you're out of this place, you're dropping them for good. "I'm going home." You whispered as you stared at the red pentagram on the dirty cement floor, decorated with a lit candle on each end of the star. You then proceeded to turn around and jumped out of your skin when a rat appeared in front of you.

You gasped and stumbled backwards, only to trip over a stick that was conveniently placed right behind your heel, and fell back on the ground; laying inside the pentagram your friends had drawn. A loud groan erupted from your throat as you tried to scramble away from the rat—which had long since disappeared—and accidentally cut yourself on the broken cement.

With a hiss, you looked at your finger and watched as a trickle of blood dripped down onto the floor. You sighed and wiped it away on your shirt while you stood up, "Fuck this, fuck them—" you were gonna run to their house, and slap every single one of their fucking faces.

As the thought passed through your head, a sudden gust of wind blew through you, and the once lit candles were put out. You paused and looked around you with unease. It was creepy enough that you were alone in an abandoned building, but to have a large gust of wind blow through your body in a confined space was even creepier. You gulped thickly and backed away, trying to reach for your phone in your pocket when you suddenly felt something breathing down your neck.

Your eyes widened, and your body immediately shut down. Not even a few seconds later, a loud growl eminated from the creature behind you, and then a whisper, "... You gonna move off my foot or what?" You practically screamed and instinctively ran forward— and let me tell you, it was a real bad idea, because you Immediately hit a wall.

The creature—which you assumed was a demon or a squatter or a fucking werewolf—whistled as it watched you fall back on the ground. "That's gotta hurt..." You groaned and covered your face, "No shit it hurt!" You yelled at it, and reached for your phone in your pocket and turned the flashlight on.

Only to be faced with a tan man with hair a dirty orange, and curious green eyes that stared down at you while you kept laying on the floor. You dropped your phone on your face in shock. But the one thing that stood out about him were the pair of black horns that sat on his head. "You've gotta stop doing that."

"What? Is being scared a weird reaction now, dipshit?!" You yelled as you rubbed your nose. The demon raised his hands in a surrendering motion, "Says the human who summoned me." He defended himself in a nonchalant demeanor. You sat up and scrunched your face at him, "I did not summon you. I didn't even think the pentagram worked."

"It's a pentagram, how would it not work." He rose a brow while his tail swung around, "It's not like it was made of ketchup or anything." You couldn't bring yourself to tell him that you did think it was made out of ketchup. He'd probably laugh at you. Instead, you eyed him up and down with the light you had, before you spoke, "So... You gonna grant me three wishes or something?"

"I'm a demon, not a genie. The only three things I can give you is my name, age, and occupation." He murmured blankly, "So how 'bout it? I need to get paid too."

"Then give me those three things." You replied, "My name's Rody, I'm 382 years old, I think. I stopped counting after 380, and obviously I'm a demon." Rody introduced himself with a smile, almost a purr to his voice as he did. "Cool. You can go away now." You said as you shooed him away and tried to walk off, only to be stopped when he pulled you back by your shirt.

"Wait no—you can't just leave!" Rody said with what appeared to be a small pout, "Demons like me just can't go away without fulfilling a certain job for the human who summoned them. So it's either you ask me to kill someone for you, or..." He trailed off and blushed at the thought. "... You use me for your own p-pleasure..."

You stared at him blankly as he fumbled with his black vest, "What are you? Some teenage boy?" he took offense to this and immediately shook his head, "I am not a teenage boy!"

"And I am not asking you to do any of that." You mumbled and tried to walk away again, "Just lie and say you did one of the two—" "—well I can't! You know they're always watching me!"

Rody was practically begging as he clung to you. He sure was putting the title of a demon to shame. "I'm not lying to you, I swear. As much as I don't want to be here..." Rody trailed off, like even he didn't believe his last words. "Well, it's been a while since I've been out in the field so it was kinda lonely waiting in my apartment but that's besides the point!" He ranted unintentionally, before he shook his head.

Rody noticed the way you stared at him, and he cleared his throat to compose himself. "Just, ask me for anything." He said more seriously as he let you go.

You thought about it, and sighed. "Fine. But I'm not asking you to kill anyone." You murmured and looked down at the floor. As tempting as it sounds, you weren't gonna just tell him to kill your friends. It was silent, as if Rody was waiting for you to initiate something. At least he was willing to wait for your move.

You then got an idea, "Do demons like blood?" You asked him, looking back up into his green eyes. Rody rose a brow before he nodded, "I guess, especially if it's their summoners blood." He whispered, not sure where this is going. "Do they go insane with just a simple whiff?" You questioned once more, and before he could even get an answer out, you rose your sliced finger in front of his face.

Rody's eyes widened, "W-What are you doing?" He hesitantly asked as he split glances between your finger and your face. "What does it look like I'm doing? How long has it been since you've tasted human blood?" A red glint flashed over Rody's eyes as he leant forward, and took your wrist into his calloused hands. "... Too long..." He whispered and gently kissed your skin, before licking the blood with a groan.

"... I feel so dirty... Licking your dried up blood like this..." Rody gazed back down at you with lidded eyes, "I'm not that much of a savage." He muttered as he kissed your lips. His hands immediately finding their way onto your hips and he pulled your body closer to his bigger one, "You don't mind I just..." Rody whispered against the kiss, using his sharp canines to bite down onto your bottom lip—enough to draw blood as he closed his mouth on the wound and sucked on the red liquid.

You hissed at the slight pain that he inflicted onto you. Noticing your reaction, Rody pulled away and pecked your bruised lip, "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it..." He whined and kissed down your chin, "Forgive me?" Rody's hands traveled under your shirt to caress your skin underneath. You gasped, feeling the rough pads of his fingers rubbing your hardening nipples. Rody trailed his lips down to the side of your neck, gently nibbling on the skin.

You felt yourself get pushed back against the wall while his knee moved to go in between your legs. Rody pressed himself closer to you, letting his thigh rub against your core. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle with you..." He cooed into your ear, "Pretty boy..." Rody praised as he suddenly pinched your nipples. You bit your bottom lip to stifle your moans, too embarrassed to let anything out.

But Rody wasn't having any of it. "Let me hear you." He said blankly, and before you knew it, his hand was inside your pants, already thumbing at your engorged clit. "Come on, pretty boy... I'll make you feel so good... Just let me hear your voice..." Rody encouraged you in his velvety smooth voice.

You threw your head back as an unexpected moan slipped past your lips, and a grin spread across Rody's face. "Atta boy, keep going." He removed his hand away from your chest and started to undo your pants, pulling them down to pool on your feet along with your underwear.

Rody took his time to admire you and your sopping cunt that was just begging for his attention. With a quick lick to his lips, he sunk down to his knees in front of you, and placed both his hands onto your thighs to keep them open for him. "Haven't tasted a sweet thing like this in a while..." He whispered in awe, "300 years ago, I'm guessing?" You quipped with a breathless chuckle.

Rody furrowed his brows and slapped your pussy, which made you whine, "If you're mouth's able to retort, then I'm guessing it can moan too." He grumbled as he then buried his face into your cunt. Your eyes widened, immediately reaching down to grab a fistful of his hair as he licked a stripe up your vulva.

You felt Rody close his lips around your throbbing clit harshly sucking and licking it. Your thighs shook, begging to close and push Rody away from the stimulation, but his strong hold prevented that. Rody placed his knee on your pants— the only thing that served as restraints for your ankles— and removed his hand from your thigh to gently tease your hole by circling around it with his fingers.

You whined, practically begging him to push it in, and when he did, a loud moan erupted from your kiss swollen lips. Rody chuckled against your heat, and sucked on your clit, the sounds of your wetness against his tongue making you cringe. Rody pumped his fingers in and out your pussy, curling and hitting all the right places in just the perfect angle.

Rody inserted another finger, his thick digits rubbing your gummy walls as he harshly finger fucked your pussy. "So lewd...~ Your pussies so wet, it's practically dripping down my hand..." He teased, and pulled his mouth away from your clit, instead using his other hand to swish his fingers side to side on the engorged bud. The sensation made you squeal, desperately trying to close your thighs around his hands but he stopped you.

"Whoa there, keep them open." Rody furrowed his briws and fingered your pussy faster. Tears rolled down your cheek from the pleasure, a small whimper sounding from you as you pulled Rody closer to your cunt. Without a second thought, Rody went back to licking your clit, wanting to overstimulate your senses until all that was left of you is a crying and moaning mess.

He thrusted his fingers even quicker at this, "Look at you... I haven't even fucked you yet and you're already crying..." He cooed, his hands tightening around your thigh as he licked his lips. You blushed at his words and immediately covered your mouth, getting too flustered by his teasing. You were getting so close, and it was driving you insane—a heat started to pool at the pit of your stomach, stating your impending release.

Rody grunted and suddenly pulled his fingers out—slapping your clit harshly. Your eyes widened as you let out a slutty moan, and before you knew it, you squirted all over him. Your thighs shook from how hard you came, your whole body turning to putty in his hold as more tears escaped from your eyes. With a cry, you glanced back down at Rody, only to see him staring up at you with the same shocked expresson on his face.

"Did you just cum from having your pussy slapped?" He asked, a small grin forming on his face. You sniffled and looked away in embarrassment, "N-No..." Rody chuckled and leant forward to kiss your cunt softly as a small apology for slapping it, "It was kinda hot, don't worry sweet boy." He praised and rose to his feet.

"Think you're ready for me?" Rody asked as he kissed your lips gently. You gave him a slow nod, and he smiled, "Alright." He undid his pants and belt, along with his underwear and let them pool on his feet. Rody was now half naked in front of you, his impressive size standing tall. It was probably the biggest cock you've ever seen. Probably the only cock you've ever seen, rather.

He placed his hands under your thighs and lifted you off the ground. Making sure to let your pants and shoes fall to the floor first so that you could wrap your legs around his waist, "Just tell me if it hurts and I'll stop, okay?" Rody reassured you, and your eyes widened. You placed a hand on his chest, "W-Wait, that's it? You're just going in with no protection?"

He paused and stared at you blankly, "Babe, I'm a demon, not a prostitute. I didn't know I was gonna end up fucking someone today, of course I don't have a condom." Rody said in a monotone voice, as if it was already common sense. "If you're that worried, I can pull out... Don't worry." He whispered and pecked your lips.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and gulped, "O-Okay..." You nodded. Rody positioned himself against your hole, rubbing the tip against the lips and smeared the precum all over your pussy. "Fuck, you're even wetter than before..." He chuckled and gently pushed the head of his cock in.

Your hissed at the stretch, immediately tightening around Rody when he pushed more of his length in. "S-Shit, don't tighten so much! I-I can't even go any further...!" Rody panted, closing his eyes at the warmth that wrapped around his weeping dick. "Just... Breathe for me, okay?" He massaged your ass, waiting for you to relax so that he could bottom out inside you, but for now, he remained unmoving.

You steadied your breathing, holding onto him tightly, and slowly nodded. Rody took this as a sign to keep going. He noticed he wasn't even halfway in, before he decided to just fuck it—and suddenly pushed himself in fully in one go. You gasped and cried, tears forming at the corners of your eyes at the pain and pleasure that pooled at the pit of your stomach.

Rody moaned into your neck, rubbing your thighs to soothe the pain. "Fuck... I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry sweet boy... It's just that, I couldn't take it... I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you..." He kissed all over your shoulder, and slid a hand over to rub your clit in order to distract you from the pain.

You could only scratch at his back as your toes curled, "You're doing so good..." Rody whispered praises into your ear, waiting for you to adjust to his size. It was the least he could do for bottoming out harshly.

After a while, you gave Rody a nod. He put his hand back under your thigh, and slowly pulled out until only the tip was left inside, before pushing back in gently. A shudder ran down your spine at the pleasure that spread through your body.

Once he saw your positive reaction, Rody kept going at the pace he set; slow and steady. You gripped onto Rody tighter, strings of moans falling from your tongue as he kept thrusting. One particular thrust hit your g-spot head on, and Rody adjusted his angle so that he could hit it everytime. "You're so tight... So perfect for my cock..." He grunted into your ear, gripping your thighs tighter as he pulled all the way out and gave a harsh thrust into your sopping pussy.

You threw your head back and cried, tears rolling down your flushed cheeks. Rody's wings flexed behind him at the pleasure, his own moans and groans stringing out from his mouth. "S-Shit...! N-Need to change your position..." Rody suddenly pulled out your heat, and put your feet down the ground. He turnt you around, and pulled your ass back against him and positioned himself once more, before he thrusted all the way in and continued his harsh thrusts.

Your tongue lolled out as you clawed at the walls. "R-Rody...!~" You squealed and looked down at your stomach, seeing a visible bump that formed whenever he thrusted into your tight cunt. Your eyes grew cloudy from the tears, and you reached down to press on the bump, finding pleasure in knowing he was so deep inside you.

You heard Rody laugh from behind you, "What? You like how I'm so deep inside your pussy?" He asked as he spanked you which made you sob, "Fuck, I love this pretty hole of yours..." Rody groaned and fucked you faster. He leant forward, pressing his chest against your back as he kissed your shoulder. Rody reached down and started rubbing your clit in timed with his thrusts, which caused you to shriek and shake your head. "N-No..! It's too much...!" You cried and babbled, your head turning into mush the more he fucked you stupid.

Rody pulled and rubbed your clit faster at your words, "You're close... Right? I'm close too..." He groaned, whimpering as he reached out to place his hand over your own against the wall. You panted like a bitch in heat, and sobbed, "R-Rody... C-Cum in me...! Please!~" You begged, unable to think straight anymore from the way Rody was bullying his cock into your cunt.

You were reduced into nothing but a toy for Rody's pleasure. Rody's eyes widened at this, and his thrusts faltered for a second, but you shook your head and let out strings of insistent 'no's. "P-Please keep going, keep going...!~" You pleaded. He was hesitant, but the way you were looking and begging... It was too much.

Rody groaned and pulled back, pushing your cheek against the wall with his hand, and fucked your cunt faster. His balls slapping against your pretty pussy lips, "You asked for this... Not me...!" He moaned loudly, feeling himself come closer to the edge.

Rody's thrusts grew more desperate and sloppy, before he gave one last thrust, and came inside you. You came right after him—squirting all over his fat cock. You drooled all over the wall as you closed your eyes from how hard you came. Rody panted and chuckled breathlessly as he stared at you, "You did so good..." He whispered and turned your head so that he could kiss you.

You tiredly reciprocated, whining when you felt your shared release dripping down your thighs. Rody pulled away and rubbed your sides, "You'll give me a five star

review right?" He grinned. You rolled your eyes and pushed his face away, "Is there even an app for this shit?" He pouted and nodded.

"Yeah, there is. It's called deviliscious."

"You're lying."

"Okay, yeah, I am."

"Just pull out you asshole."

@ shirakow ; Reblogs are always appreciated <3 it's like 5 am as I'm editing this and I haven't gotten any sleep .

ㅤ

[flowerfreya]

Hockey AU

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Content: Reader is in a secret relationship with Simon, who is a famous hockey player. Simon is injured in this and the reader needs to see him.

Masterlist

Simon is pissed. 

You can tell because he’s shit talking the other team. You see, Simon is usually quiet when he plays hockey. He’s focused. He just wants to play and win, but when his team starts losing, that when the shit talking starts.Simon is a sore loser, a hater to his core, and he knows that to throw off the other team is to shit talk. 

Simon is playing against a team that is okay , middle tier, they should be blowing them out the water instead the score is 2-1 and Simon has missed most of the shots that he took. You see him slam his stick on the ice, he does it so hard the stick breaks in half. 

The ref blows the whistle. That’s when you see the other player , wind back his hockey stick and swing it like a baseball bat to Simon's ankle. 

Simon’s ankle that been fucked up ever since his first game in professional hockey. The sports analysts talk about it every time that Simon has a game. Everytime Simon’s a little slow to goal they mention,”The ankle”. Meaning everyone knows that Simon aka Ghost on the ice has a bum ankle and the revival team just broke his stick against it. 

Simon doesn’t go down, but you see his back arch and then a yell. There is shoving from each side , a little bit of shit talking but not fighting yet. The player gets sent to the box and Ghost lines up and waits for the puck to drop. 

The ref blows the whistle and drops the buck but that seems like the least of their worries. Simon flings his stick to the side and throws off his gloves and just starts hammering the other team. In fact, all of them are fighting. Soap, Gaz, and Koing. You know how hockey players are, what that player did to Simon , it was like he did it to all of them and now they have to pay for that. 

You're not worried about Simon, he’s done this before and skated away. He probably won’t be able to walk tomorrow but you’ll just have to find a way to get him to stay in bed. 

The next play has you worried though. They are skating fast gaining traction then like a duel they start heading towards each other each pumping their legs trying to go as fast as possible but SImon already hurt, he’s always hurt , he never lets himself recover. He is always sore and stiff. 

The other player leans forward and bulldozers into Simon. 

Simon is on the ground, spinning, and then stops. The crowd lets out a collective gasp. You wait 15 seconds, you know the drill.He just got the wind knocked out of him, he’s fine. He will get back up. He doesn’t get back up. 

You start to move toward the tunnel, you know they won’t let you on the ice. Shit, they probably won’t let you in the tunnel. No one knows about you and Simon. Simon wants to tell everyone but his agent thinks it will hurt the Ghost persona he has. That means this relationship is just between you and him ( and maybe Soap … and Price … and Gaz, but he doesn’t know that and neither do you). 

You get there quick enough to beat the chaos that is about to ensue but you can only get so far before someone is stopping you. 

“Ma’am you can’t be back here, it’s a secure area”, the officer is looking at you strangely. You know you look crazy, wide eyes, and breathing too fast to be normal. But you know Simon is hurt. You know Simon is hurt, bad.And you need to see him. 

“Right”, you're trying to think fast , how can you get past him?How do you see Simon?, how to make sure he’s okay?

“You see I need to get back there, one of the player’s is hurt and I need to see him”

“You're on the medical team?”, he looks at you skeptical, he doesn’t believe you. Shit, you don’t believe you. 

“Yes”, you nod , you can hear the actual medical staff coming and you do something crazy. You dart past the security guard, you hear a hey!, but he can’t catch you. You wind up in the locker room and look for Simon’s cubicle and then you hid. 

You can hear Simon before you see him, “I’m fine, just took a hit , it’s hockey”, he growls. You hear Price say to him as calm as possible, “You passed out, we can’t allow you to go back”

“I’m fine, give me the head test, I’ll pass and you can put me back in”

“No” 

“Why?” 

“You try to go back out there , you’ll be missing more than this game”, Price answers back. 

That's when the security guard you ran past, whips into the room and asks if they have seen you, he describes you perfectly and they both shake their head, no. 

Simon waits till everyone clears out the room , before he calls your name, and you slip out of his locker. 

“First, you need to power wash this locker.Second, are you okay?”, you walk up to him trying to scan his body but he still has all his gear on making it harder to tell. 

Simon has never lied to you about being hurt and how much sometimes he just doesn’t want to do the work today, “My head feels like someone is taking a hammer and is just going to town”, he takes a seat and starts taking off his uniform. 

[saekkas]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒

summary: in which someone catcalls you and he's there to defend.

includes: isagi, nagi, reo, yukimiya, rin, sae, kunigami, kaiser, karasu, bachira, aiku.

note: i split it into two this time because i honestly can't see them doing anything else.

𝐉𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 as if he doesn't know you, even with his hands clearly around your waist. does it to out of love above anything else, it's his way of trying to make you comfortable. will try to be playful with his actions and words but if anyone takes a step towards you? it's on. (you know that, "wear whatever you want, babe. i can fight." that's him atp)

reo, aiku, kaiser, bachira, karasu

the sun's bright overhead, not too blinding, with just the right amount of heat to tan. he sighs in content, the sand underneath his bum perfectly warm as you lather sunscreen on his back. a beautiful beach and a gorgeous girl running her hands down his back? this better be the view he sees at the pearly white gates of heaven.

the hand on his back is smooth and he groans when you gently massage the knots out of his neck. "keep doing that and i might just marry you sooner."

he hears you snort before anything else. there's no other reply and he relaxes once more, leaning his head onto your shoulder. he squints at the sun shining directly into his eyes.

"careful there, hotshot. you might get wrinkles. and i don't want to marry a wrinkly, 68-year-old looking guy."

something blocks the sun from his vision, and he has to blink multiple times, letting his eyes adapt to the change of scenery. he sees you grinning down at him, your face upside down, and the sun's halo shinning behind your head.

"hi, gorgeous." the smile on his face is nothing but awestruck, his eyes molding into the shape of hearts. "missed you and your beautiful face."

there's another snort from you and he yelps at the feeling of cold sunscreen hitting his face.

"me and my beautiful face have been behind you this whole time, loser. who knew you were such a simp."

the droplets on his face are cold but the warmth of your hand rubbing them into his skin makes it all better. his eyes gaze up at your face before trailing down your body, drinking in the sight of your bikini. "you should wear that more often. every day around the house often."

he yelps, scrunching his nose when you playfully bite it.

the touch of your hand on his body is soft and warm, a complete contrast from the rugged sand beneath you both and it has him shivering. "what? can't i compliment my favorite girl?"

he smiles when you plop down on his lap, laughing at the roll of your eyes.

"i'm your only girl," you say, body relaxing into his hold. "well, i better be."

he can only laugh in response, wrapping his hands around your waist and playing with the strap of your top. "i'm only yours, angel. i'm hurt that you'd even think otherwise."

there's a strong gust of wind, blowing sand everywhere as the trees sway in their place. he tightens his hold on you, letting you hide your face in the crook of his neck.

when it subsides, he's quick to place his hand on your cheeks, softly looking into your eyes. "is my baby okay? need me to blow away the sand from your eyes?" his tone is sweet, playful. the pads of his fingers rub circles on your cheeks, and he leans in, placing his forehead against yours. "need me to kiss it better?"

the sound of a high-pitched whistle drowns out your sassy reply of just say you want a kiss and go. a rowdy pair of teenagers stand by the ocean's shoreline, grinning madly when his eyes land on them. their shouts of pretty lady you got there, wanna share? and stop being a hog, let us in on some fun, eh? falls on deaf ears as he looks down at you with a wink.

"no but they're right, eh? i've got such a pretty lady on my lap." his eyes are gentle and calm as the sea, they reflect the worry you feel inside. his hands ground you, picking you up easily to switch positions so that you're covered by his back, safe from prying eyes. "should we go back home for some more fun? what do you say, angel?"

he lays your head down against his chest, letting you hear the gentle thud of his heartbeat. "this beach is overrated anyway. it doesn't even have a lifeguard." he nudges your forehead with his nose, smiling cheekily. "honestly? never mind. that's a good thing because if i were a lifeguard, i'd give you mouth-to-mouth all day long."

his smile widens just a fraction when you giggle, happy to see that your eyes are starting to show their shine.

"you're awful at this," you giggle, pushing his shoulder playfully. "what kind of pickup line was that?"

"oh?" he pretends, widening his eyes as he points at the center of your forehead. you know it's all theatrics, but you fall for it either way. "what's this? do you have a sunburn?"

he trails his finger down your arm and onto your belly, stopping at your thigh when you look at him with confusion.

"what do you mean?" you ask, tilting your head with a small smile. "i put on sunscreen earlier."

he's quick to lean in, pressing a kiss on your cheek. "yeah, you're right. it was just your usual self being hot." the smile on his face widens into a grin when he hears you laugh, and it drives him to nuzzle his nose against your neck.

"there's my angel. or should i say sandcastle? because i want to build my dreams around you."

he leans back, trying to dodge your hand only to laugh as you both fall onto the sand. he looks at you, letting his hand trail down your cheek as you hover above him, matching grins on your faces.

"what was that for?" his laughs have trickled down into low chuckles. he lets himself fully immerse in the sand, propping a hand behind his head. "am i that irresistible, angel?"

"you're such-"

"oh? what's this?" the two boys from earlier watch you with crooked smiles and bad intentions clear in their eyes. they move forward, starting to close in. "should we join in-"

"back off." his eyes are dark, and his voice is low. there's a clear line of annoyance in his tone as he stands, pushing you behind him. his stance is intimidating, clearly protective with the glare set on his usually always smiling face. he quirks an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk appearing on his lips. "or i'll make you."

they back off at his threat, bowing their head to you as they leave.

he holds you in his hands, nuzzling his face into your hair as if he wasn't initiating a fight just a few seconds ago. "let's go, angel. i'll buy us some ice cream." he takes your hand, winking as he playfully taps your bottom.

𝐍𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒, 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐘. he's the type of guy who will not realize someone's bothering you, honestly. if anyone asks why, it's because his eyes and entire being is fixated on you, and you only. why should he even care about some random ant on the street? it's just you and him, his baby, his world. nothing else matters in his eyes.

sae, rin, nagi, yukimiya, kunigami, isagi

"it isn't too crowded today." his words are blunt, a matter of fact that you can't help but giggle at. he eyes you, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips at the sound. "we should go in before it's too busy."

he takes your hand by your side, slipping it into his as you make your way into the cat cafe. he hums, scrunching his nose and withholding the need to sneeze as he lets you take everything in. the cafe is spacy, a big section for the cats to play in that's separate from the food corner.

he takes a seat near one of the scratching poles, leaning his back on the seat. his eyes are locked in on you, watching as you squat down to pet a cat on its head, chuckling when you startle as the cat jumps to one of the higher beams.

"you're so mean for laughing." he watches the syllables form on your lips, takes in the color and shape of your mouth. it's only when they form into a smirk that he moves his gaze back to your face. "you promised to play with the cats, remember?"

he only blinks up at you, similar to a cat himself, before sighing at your puppy eyes. nodding his head, he sets onto his feet to follow you deeper into the room, looking at the trail of cats that have begun to follow you both.

there's an empty bench that you lead him to and he sits dutifully, letting you plop a cat onto his lap. his motions are mechanical at best, he pats the cat's head, scratches under its ears, and stays away from its tail, the way you showed him how. anyone who's watching can clearly tell the cat isn't his main attention, it's you.

he feels the cat purr in hips lap and continues stroking it, but his eyes are never far from you. he sees you buying a packet of treats, watches as you squat down to feed the little white kitten by your feet, admires as every other cat suddenly comes swarming in. he chuckles to himself, so wholly focused he doesn't realize that someone's come to sit beside him.

"that's such a pretty kitty, mind if i take her home?"

he doesn't answer. not at first. he simply observes you, from the gracefulness of your movements to the sweetness of your smile. he only tears his eyes away to look at the stranger when he laughs.

"can i help you?" his tone is dull, clearly not wanting to be disturbed. he looks at the stranger for a few more seconds before turning back to you, the cat still peacefully asleep in his arms.

"not at all. i just wanted to know whether your cat's for sale."

he doesn't catch the underlying meaning of the stranger's words. you've got a beautiful persian with discolored eyes in your arms now, cooing the name Oscar at the thing. he tilts his head, wondering whether you'll do the same to him for taking you here today.

"i'd like to take her home. play with her until i'm bored, ya know?"

he watches from the corner of his eyes as the stranger leans back against the bench, a sickening smirk on his face. he realizes belatedly that the stranger's looking at you.

anger simmers in his eyes as he looks at the stranger with his coldest eyes, tone uninterested. "you wouldn't be able to take her. she's a feisty one, needs a man to take care of her. not some sleazy bastard."

he watches with boredom as the stranger clenches his fist. there's a hint of a smirk on his face as the stranger starts to stand up, clearly wanting to fight, only to step on cat vomit.

"oh no, oscar!" you gasp from behind the stranger, looking at the cat in your arms worriedly. "are you okay? you sick, baby?"

he watches in amusement as the stranger turns to leave the cafe, his face red. all the while, you remain blissfully unaware, concern swimming in your orbs as you cradle the cat closer to your chest.

"do you think we can adopt?" he sees the confusion on your face, chuckling at the little tilt of your head. he nods to the cat. "oscar's pretty cute. i like him."

he chuckles when you squeal, smiling happily as you place oscar down to pepper kisses on his face.

[junedenim]

trying to be good

make sense

warnings: angst, smut, piv, i guess fluff

word count: 3.8k

He's perverted wrapped in shame clutching a bottle. He left his embarrassment two hours ago and his eyes stay on you. It's too early to be drinking and he's not, at least not completely. He took two swigs and found himself on a park bench looking for something to do. Something that won't make him feel totally lost and hopeless.

He doesn't usually do this kind of thing so that doesn't make him a pervert, only perverts and weirdos sit and stare at woman every day. He doesn't whistle or make a noise, in fact you probably can't even tell he's there. 

Except you keep looking over at him. For that he should be feeling the weight of embarrassment but he can't manage to tear his eyes away. Maybe that's because he has nothing left. Feeling a mood of embarrassment would mean he could actually feel something. Yet, he doesn't feel embarrassed, he feels compelled.

It's like spotting a deer in the meadow. It's not shocking for the deer to be there but it to show itself to him with no fear of being shot dead; it's a gift of beauty. 

You sit on the grass with two other girls They don't show themselves to him like you have. They're shy with their backs turned to him. You face toward him, you brush your hair out of your face, and look directly at him. You're challenging. It's like you're playing a game of chess and you're close to outsmarting him but not quite.

He'd probably look like a homeless slob if it wasn't for his clothes. His eyes are heavy, there's his unkempt beard, and a cigarette hangs from his lips so sloppy that a slight blow of the wind would send it crashing to the ground.

Your legs are exposed to the sun and to him. He begs to kiss them just like the sun is now. There's enough fabric to cover the rest of you, to leave something to imagine, to make Alex feel like a pervert. God's gift to men wasn't women, it was this woman.

He stands up and your eyes go large. He gets a kick out of freaking you out and he don't know when he became so deprived or maybe he's always been this way, just held back by his own insecurity that he can't even feel anymore.

You break the stare and turn to your friends, sharing a laugh as if you had never strayed away from the conversation to stare at the man walking toward you. Your heart is beating wildly, he can imagine it. He can almost feel it from the desperation he's feeling. All the numbness fading away, wearing off with each footstep.

As his feet meet the grass, your eyes meet his, up through those lashes, beckoning him to move further. And then he keeps walking right past you. Some would say it was that old shyness pulling him away, but he feels the joy that overcomes him from the thought he disappointed you and left you grasping for more and how alive that makes him feel.

The rustle of grass behind him as your shoes hit makes that sick smirk kill him, split him in two. He's tempted to take a swig but the cigarette won't let him. There's a light touch to his shoulder, you not letting him slip away.

He turns around and you stand with less shame than him. You stare. He stares. You leave him in silence and it has thrown him on his back, knocking any ability to breath out of him. "Yes?"

You hold your hand out in front of him revealing money laid out for him. The bill stares at him, taunting him. "I, uh, don't need that, love." He knew he looked rough, the kind of man a woman like you wouldn't approach, but he didn't think he was that down on his luck. He fixes the cigarette and straightens his jacket.

You giggle. "You dropped it."

"Oh," he voices, a sound dipped in laughter. He shrugs, trying to earn cool points back. "Keep it."

You shake your head. "I don't need it either. Not that bad."

"What's that mean?" He questions blowing off smoke behind his shoulder acting like some refined gentleman, trying to scrub the image of a thug.

"I don't know." The bill still lies in your hand pointed to him for the plucking like you're offering him something more than his money back. "Take it. Give it to someone else."

He looks back over at your friends watching the scene. They avert their eyes when they see him looking. He chuckles at his newfound fate of being a chick repellant, at least to some. "We could split it. Get dinner together."

You smile but look with a furrow to your brows at him. "I don't think this is enough for dinner."

"Alright, then let me take you out to dinner. My dime," he offers. Whether suavely or not, he throws his cigarette off to the side. He eases into himself, not feeling a care for what the answer is. He's confident by the glint in your eyes that he doesn't have much to worry about. Even if he did, he could just drown himself after.

But you nod. "I'd have to get my purse."

"Alright, then get your purse," he commands. You dash off and he watches the pull your friends have on you. A mix of confusion and glee for you. You come running back to him in a prance that strikes the same as a doe leaping.

You're locked in a pace with one another. There's an unmistakable space between the two of you. There isn't much warmth in the silence. "You having a good day?" He asks for lack of anything else.

"I think so. You?" You're flirtatious and, as aware of your every move he is, you're even more zeroed in on yourself. So well aware of what makes his insides twist and turn. He would guess that seducing most men is much of the same. People don't tend to vary in what they like. It's all much of the same.

He shrugs. "So-so."

"So-so, how?"

"Well, you see I was over there on that park bench," he points back to his former resting place, "having as worse a day as a person can never and I can't stop looking at this girl."

"Am I girl?" You tease.

Alex lets out a chuckle. "It would seem so."

"Why were you having a bad day?" You ask. He can't tell if you really care or if you're trying to fake concern. He used to not be a person who cared about those things but now he's stuck in this unforgiving mindset.

He tilts his head to try to signal something like maybe the truth will fall out of his ear and not his mouth. He'll lie. There isn't any other way but to lie because what's the meaning in the truth—and god, fuck, he's been so messed up. This isn't how his brain used to work. Why the fuck can't he get back to normal? 

You seem sweet. You have a sweet smile and sweet eyes and you laugh in a way that sounds real, he doesn't think you're faking it, yet, he can't help but believe that you are. He can't imagine you getting any joy from him. He can't imagine being all that funny. 

"Woke up on the wrong side of the bed," he says.

You nod and don't ask further. He can't make up his mind if he likes that or not.

"I don't usually do this," you let out. "I don't feel comfortable around a total stranger, especially a man."

"And you feel comfortable around me?" He has a hard time not thinking of himself as off-putting. It's tough to imagine a person taking interest him because he puts them at ease. He's been called the opposite. Anxiety-inducing and uninviting. His disposition as of late hasn't given off sunshine and lollipops. He's a storm cloud and he dreads it but there's nothing stopping the downpour.

You think it over. You nod. You smile. You say, "Yeah. I wouldn't be here if I wasn't."

*

"My father never let me get bumpers," you tell him, holding up the blue bowling ball beside your head. Your tiny fingers slip into the holes looking so fragile like the slightest move might snap them like twigs. "He called it cheating so from an early age I had to learn how to bowl without it. Still, I suck at it."

"You're beating me," he reasons. He spreads his arms out across the orange and yellow chairs. He watches as you lift your arm back and swing it through down the lane. It veers to the left. 

Some might say you aren't wearing the best attire for bowling. The short dress might work for a picnic in the park but it doesn't make well for movement. He doesn't mind, obviously. He doesn't watch the ball, he watches you. It hits two pins but he watches your two legs instead, one bend slightly, your right giant out-of-place bowling shoe rubbing against the left one.

"I'm a frame ahead of you," you tell him. "You got a strike. I got nada."

You sit beside him and take a sip of the water the alley just served you. "We're only a few frames in."

You reach out for the small menu. "Should we get something to eat? Pizza? Do you like pete-za?" You exaggerate, looking to him with big curious eyes.

He chuckles and hides his amusement in his glass of water. "Yeah. Yeah, I like pizza." He likes the way your eyes dart over the tiny menu in an effort to look through every option they have before officially deciding on pizza.

You lift your eyes and meet his dark ones completely fixed on you. A smile tugs on your cheeks. "It's your turn."

He pulls away because you make him, not because he wants to. He wants to stare, he wants to play along. This game—not the one you've bought to play, but the one between words and looks—is placing him back together. "Eager for defeat?"

You sigh, "It would be nice to get this over with."

"And then what we would do?" He picks up his ball and lets it hang at his side.

"Eat pizza." You're matter-of-fact, throwing the menu down and staring at him in the way only a sick person would stare at him when he has a blue ball in his hand. He could drop it then drop to his knees. The undefinable weight on his back has been pushing him down to the ground anyway.

"Why delay the inevitable?" He could be a gentlemen. He could take you on a proper date and after the third date he might attempt to invite you back to his place but all manners have gone. They flew out the window long ago. It's desperation now.

"I don't know what you're talking about." You're serious. You could be an actress if you didn't quiver. Your face is accusatory. You would've terrified him a couple of years ago but he has since lost the shield of caring. There's no use in pretending. He doesn't need in act. He'd leave right now if he didn't pay for the game and has a mouth that salivating for a slice of 'za.

"Uh-huh, sure."

*

Your shoes scrap on the cement and it annoys the fuck out of him. You walk lazily as if you're regaining the ability to walk and he doesn't want to wait. He doesn't want to walk at snail's pace. He wants salvation.

"Do you have a problem with women?" You ask. He hasn't said anything so it can't be about the shoe. Maybe he hasn't fully shaken the shyness and you've mistaken yourself to be the first woman he's ever looked at.

He laughs at the question. It's fake. It's an act. It's a cover-up. Lying. He shouldn't do that anymore. "No. Why? Do I seem like it?"

"No. I think I have a problem with men." 

Oh.

You're being vulnerable and he's the fucking jerk. He's always the jerk and everything makes sense. All those things that landed him on that park bench. They weren't a lie. He is self-centered and he might be a prick. She was probably right. He's been elsewhere lately, long before she even said those things.

"Why?" He can care. He used to. He was sensitive and he cared too much and it hurt him. Feeling numb wasn't a constant. He loved being the shoulder. He loved putting effort in. He loved being dependable. Then, one day, he lost it all. Or maybe it was more gradually then he'd like to believe. He lost parts of himself along the way but it's just easier to blame her than to blame himself.

You sigh and knock into him by accident, at least it looks that way. It might be some seductive ploy you have to get men wrapped around your finger. Fuck. He rubs his forehead and tries to make sense of himself again. Listen. 

"I worry all the time whether people like me or not. Like my sister is so carefree and she doesn't focus on what people think of her. Meanwhile, I spend days agonizing over whether I said the right thing or not. I'll probably look back on this moment, exactly what I'm saying now, and find myself to be so fucking stupid."

"Don't." It's quick and it's final. It's his only word. You glance over with an uncertainty in his eyes. Other people feel this way too, he never thought that before. He thought he was the only one to feel this cut loose from the world, floating off into space. You've grabbed the wire and try to tug him back down. He can catch his breath.

"Why?" Your smile is no longer teasing. It's a friendly invitation. A person in need of reassurance. He sees himself in you. Maybe it's the other way around too.

"'Cause I'm gonna spend all of tomorrow thinking about if I said the right thing."

"You didn't. At least not yet," you assure him.

"So, there's still time to fuck up?"

"There always is." You're laughing at him but he doesn't mind. He can take the brunt of it if it means hearing you laugh. It's what breaks the ice within him. Things feel less big when he finds such enormous pleasure in something so small. 

You tilt your head and look through his eyes into the window of him. "But I'll forgive you."

*

Sex is a savior. All that sin rhetoric is such bullshit because it feels like a cure-all right now. This is the type of sex that leads to addiction. He wants it every which way but he'll take this. Whatever this is. 

You're naked. He's naked. He thrusts into you from above and he feels like he's squashing you like a bug beneath a book. He'd pull away if you hadn't pulled him closer. Every inch is being consumed until there's no space left to separate.

It started slow. Carefully leaning into each other after the front door shut. There were kisses, plenty of them all over, though he can't remember now. He kisses your lips as a reminder. It's sweet, a taste residue provided by your chapstick.

Now, it's fast. Not an unbelievable pace but one that's toe-curling and gives you both a need to catch your breath. He hears yours up against his ear. It's the rhythm he follows. You claw at him. He eats him up inside. Everything feels oddly calm for something so rushed and loud.

The bed creaks. Something that makes him cringe and you giggle. Then, his knee cracks and he feels the weight of age smack itself down on him. You giggle some more, but then you reach out. You trace the scowl lines that cover his face. You smooth out the skin with a soft touch and a careful smile. You know exactly how to mold him. You know exactly how to make things feel alright. 

At least for now. In the middle of the rising action, right when things reach their tipping point. Truthfully, that probably was the tipping point. Not the orgasm that follows but the ability to be seen and no longer feel like everything must be pushed under the rug. There's no need anymore, not in front of you. He can care.

His back rests on the mattress and he brushes the strands out of the way. You lean over off the bed, picking your purse off of the floor. You take out a piece of gum, the long stick kind, crumbling it into your mouth, and offer him one.

 "Does my breath stink that bad?" He questions.

You shake your head. "No, I just like gum."

He takes it. The sugar punctures his tastebuds. Artificial watermelon makes him pucker up, so overwhelmed by the taste. "I can't remember the last time I had bubblegum. You like this?"

You both are on your backs but you've turned your heads to one another, each of you smacking away. "Yeah. Why? You don't?"

"I thought it would be mint. I didn't know people over the age of 10 bought bubblegum."

He's grateful you laugh. He probably wouldn't have. He would have thought the whole time about how maybe he was too old to be doing these kinds of things, even as minuscule of bubblegum. You seem to take it with ease.

"I like it. It reminds me of my youth. It's what keeps me looking so young." You stroke your cheek, even you are well aware of that baby soft skin.

"You are young." He doesn't know your age but it's ease to assume. He reaches out to take the cheek in his hand, giving him the ability to feel that youthfulness, the preciousness, and the vulnerability penetrate him. 

You're still like his hand is a smooth wave passing over you, a breeze taking its time, the mist quenching the heat. You place your own hand over it like you would like to keep him there as if he might possess the same powers you do. "So, do you like the gum?"

Alex chuckles and leans closer with no ability or wish to pull away. "I think so. I've never been able to blow a bubble."

You brighten up. "Really?" Your eyes are wide with a grin to beat him over the head with. "It's quite easy. You just stretch the gum over you tongue, make sure there's no holes, and then you blow."

He ends up spitting it out right onto the mattress. He falls onto his back and you lean over on him in an eruption of laughter. He hides his smile with his hand as the weight of you lands on him and your hand pokes and prods at him, tickling him more.

Somewhere in the process the gum smooshes onto the sheets. You attempt an apology but it just comes out as more laughing. "At least it wasn't stuck in your beard. I got it stuck in my hair once and I had to cut a whole patch of it out."

"Was it noticeable?" You're back to lying side by side, a slight space formed where the gum is now glued on.

"Oh, completely and school picture day was the next week. It was awful."

"I'd like to see that."

"Never," you vow. You shift, sinking further into the mattress and closer to him. "Why is your hair long? Are you growing it out?"

He blows air out, emptying his lungs, and trying to make sense out of something he hasn't be able fully understand yet. "I'm doing something with it."

You hum and don't ask any further. Your hand reaches out and strokes down the strands of his hair. Your nails soothe those never-ending pains his brain has been firing off. You look content, perfectly comfortable here. He could be that. 

"I've kind of let myself go lately. I've been a bit of a mess. Feel like I've been stuck in this spiral that I can't get out of. A riptide of...feelings, uncontrollable feelings. Nothing or everything. I just want to feel like myself again."

You're quiet, attentively listening, stroking his hair. Your breathing keeps him steady and not completely falling off the edge. You smile, just a bit. "This too shall pass."

*

He wakes up before you but doesn't know what to do. He isn't sure if he should make breakfast or take a shower or wake you up. So, he just lies there and waits. You've sunk into the pillow enough to leave marks when you wake up. Your hair is tossed, some falling into your eyes. A touch to move it away could wake you but he touches anyway.

He tried to make this surface level but as you stir and your eyelashes flutter he feels like he has brought all this pain on himself. Everything he tried to avoid is laying right next to him. He shouldn't have engaged in this. 

"Do you wake up with a scowl?" You ask. You fold your arms up and rest your head on them.

He shakes his head, trying his best to rest his face. "I'm just thinking."

You hum. "You do that a lot. See, I talk too much that's my problem. There are worse things to suffer from."

"I'm doing that questioning your every move thing."

You hum again. He almost expects you to take out a pen and paper and start taking notes. You study him. He can feel your eyes trace his skin. "What answers are you getting?"

"What?"

"Well," you sit up and lean over him, "you're asking all these questions of why you did that or said that or what to do next so what's the answer?"

He's silent, unsure of what to say. He feels dumb. He probably does have a problem with women, one that he can't ignore with you leering over him. You answer for him, "I think it's because you wanted to. You don't make a lot of mistakes if you ended up in bed with the girl and she spent the night. Especially when she's telling you she had a lovely time."

Alex cracks a smile. He can't say much else. The truth was in your words so instead of speaking he reaches out and tugs you down to him. With your skin still bare and mind at ease, you rest your head on his chest.

Everything slows down. The slightest touch feels important. It grounds him. He doesn't want to escape this. He wants to relish in it. He can't remember the last time he didn't want to escape something. How desperate he has been to escape this intimacy. But this closeness is what he always needed. To feel someone else understand him.

"I think you're laying on the gum."

*

a/n: i don't know what this is or if i like it but it's something.

[lou-struck]

Sundaes and Sorrows

Yoshi Isagi x reader

W.C: 2k

~ After a rough game, Isagi is feeling down in the dumps. But while he is sulking away on the team's bus, you have been hard at work preparing a special surprise for him when he gets home. 

Beads of sweat drip from Yoichi Isagi's brow as he sprints across the scorching pitch. The hot afternoon sun has bullied him since kickoff, and now, 86 minutes in. Both teams are scoreless.

The sticky rain from the first half has made the field extremely slippery, and he dreads to think of the thick layer of grass that clings to the bottom of his cleats. His body is sore from taking one too many hard hits, But he continues to play on.

His eyes are wide as he analyzes his opponents, looking for any crack in their back line where he can slip through and not end the match in an unsatisfying tie game.

After ricocheting the ball off of the knee of a too-slow defender, his friend, Meguru Bachira, steps out of bounce to take a throw-in. The momentary break allows the striker to catch a glimpse of the camera; he had been so engrossed in the game that he hadn't spared it a second glance before, but he briefly stairs through the lens, knowing that you, his loving partner, is at home watching this game.

Knowing that you are cheering him on gives him just enough energy to keep going.

He has to win this game for you. Because you deserve to see a goal.

~

You want to see a goal.

Back in the comfort of your home, you nervously grip the hem of the light blanket you have draped across your lap.

Yoichi looks exhausted. He had taken far too many hits this game, and only half of those resulted in a whistle being blown.

Through the screen of your TV, the other team sends a through ball that cuts across the field and breaks the back line.

The opposing striker, having made an exceptional run, lines up with the ball at his feet, his eyes on the net as he winds up to take his shot. The game-winner.

Striking through with his laces, he sends a bullet headed straight toward the upper v. You hold your breath…

A gloved hand sticks out just enough, and the contact alters the path as the goalkeeper pushes up towards the crossbar and releases the air from your lungs.

It's a save!

With most of the opposition out of position, your boyfriend's team counterattacks in this pivotal transition moment. Reo clears the ball, sending it all the way from the top of the 18, just in front of the on-side Isagi. 

He's all alone with no one but the opposing team's goalkeeper and his path. He dribbles taking careful touches toward the goal guardian. Although you can't see on the camera, you know his face is on the path ahead of him to the goal.

Just when he is within shooting distance, the goalkeeper makes a gamble and steps off his line in a 1v1 situation in the box. Logo-covered hands just inches away from the ground as he creeps forward, waiting for the shot.

With bated breath, you watch as your boyfriend lunches to the left and takes the ball with his right, juking the goalkeeper out. But his touch was too big on the slick grass, and the ball rolls out of the bounce. 

In a mixture of shock and distress, he places his hands in his hair, the realization that he just blew the game-winning goal hitting him hard as the referee blows his whistle, signaling the end of the game.

As he walks off the field, you can tell from his body language that he is crushed. Unable to look at the site any longer, you turn off the TV. 

But he does not have the luxury of just changing the channel on this. No, your dear, sweet boyfriend now has to sit on a crowded, smelly bus for the next six hours, just stewing in the stink of his mistake.

~

30 minutes later, your phone starts to ring. As you pick up the cold device, you spot his smiling contact image that definitely will not match his current mood.

"Hey baby," you say into the speaker, trying your best to sound comforting from so far away. "How are you doing?"

"Not great," he says, doing little to hide the disappointment in his tone. You can practically see his sad blue eyes and crushed pout he is wearing. "Did you watch the game?"

"I did," you respond, "I'm sorry about the tie; it was a really close game."

"Too close to be scoreless," he sighs, "I really wanted to score for you today, but I screwed that up."

"No one else scored either, Yoichi," you say firmly, doing your best to pull him out of his post-game funk. "I watched the game because I love you, not because I expect to see goals."

"You're right," he relents. "Do you think I could stay at your place tonight? I really want to see you, and things have been crazy lately."

"You wanna have a little sleepover? You tease, and you swear you can feel his lips curving up into a smile.

"Yeah, I really do," he says, a slight echo in his voice as you walk into what you presume is the locker room. A bit of disappointment begins to brew in your gut when you realize that your conversation will be getting cut short. 

"I'm sorry, y/n, but it looks like we are gonna be clearing out here soon. If I don't shower before I get on the bus, I'm gonna regret it."

You can only imagine how bad the whole bus of professional soccer stars would smell. "No worries, you do what you need to do. What time do you think you will get to mine?"

"It's hard to tell, but I think it will be about six and a half hours from now," he says after a pause. 

"Sounds good, I love you," you smile into the receiver, your mind already trying to decide what you can do in that free time to make a day just a bit better.

"I love you too," he says. The last thing you hear on his end is the deep, authoritarian voice of Barou yelling in the background as he hangs up.

Sliding your phone into your pocket, you get off the couch and grab your car keys. Six hours is more than enough time for you to prepare a surprise for him.

~

After your phone call all those hours ago, the day you realized that you may have gotten a tad carried away preparing for your cozy night in with Yoichi. Looking over all your hard work, your heart swells with pride as you eagerly wait for your dejected boyfriend's mood to be sweetened by the fruits of your labor. 

And the over-the-top ice cream sundae bar you pulled together after being inspired by a photo on Pinterest. Ice cream is one of the best tools you have when pulling your boyfriend out of his post-game, probably low-blood sugar-enhanced funk. So you know he is going to love the extra effort you put into pulling it all together. 

Although the actual pints of ice cream are still in the freezer, you have set up some bowls with chopped nuts, sprinkles, hot fudge, whipped cream, and even some of those little cherry things. Sure… you also got dinner and some other snacks, but you two are adults, which means that you can eat dessert first.

With everything set up and ready to go, you scan your home one more time just to make sure you haven't missed anything.

The sweet smell of not-too-strong candles dance through the living room as a mountain of fluffy blankets adorn your couch. The coffee table is littered with some of his favorite video games that you guys can play together, and if he isn't feeling like playing anything, you have a few of his favorite movies on standby. 

However, spotting the FIFA disc at the top of the pile of games, you decide to tuck it away in a cabinet. The purpose of the sleepover is to cheer him up a bit and forget about soccer for the night.

The cabinet door shoots just as the knob to your front door twists, and an exhausted-looking Yoichi stumbles into your warm, welcoming space. His blue eyes seem to brighten when he sees you.

"Hi." he smiles as you hurry into his embrace. His lips are quick to find yours, and the sweet touch is like a remedy to him, alleviating the pain of a long game and longer bus ride. 

"Hi," you murmur, feeling more at home in his arms than in your apartment. "M' glad you made it."

"Me too; I hate those long bus rides." he sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. "Everyone was still so upset about the game, so no one said a word the entire ride. It felt like we were stuck in that box for a year." 

"That's no fun," you say, looking up at his tired features. After everything he has been through today, it is very possible he will just want to goto bed early and pretend this day never happened. 

The realization unsettles you as your sweet boyfriend looks around your apartment, taking notice of your hard work with that incredible special observation that made him a professional athlete. "Y/n, things look different here. Did you set up something?" 

"I have no idea what you are talking about," you say innocently as he takes your hand and wanders through your apartment. His face goes from confusion to bliss as he eyes your couch setup, the games, the movies, and the snacks you have strategically placed in your living room. 

"Did you do all of this for me?" he asks. 

"Maybe." you murmur, "I just wanted to do something to cheer you up since you were so upset from the game earlier.

"You're the best,"  he says, his eyes shining with love as he pulls you into his embrace. "I mean it, really. You blow me away." he starts to lead you to the couch.

"Wait," you say, abruptly stopping him from burying the two of you in a mountain of blankets. "We can't yet. You haven't seen everything."

"There's more?" his eyes nearly bug out of his head as you run off to the kitchen to pull the ice cream pints you bought out of the freezer before he sees. 

The mint chocolate chip pint you bought especially for him hits the counter with a thud, and he walks into the room; curiosity becomes a joy as he sees the masterpiece you have set up for him. "Surprise…" you smile, quickly fixing an out-of-place cup of toppings. "I figured we could start off our night by drowning our sorrows in ice cream. And then we can get to the rest of it."

His lips pout. "But Ice cream is for winners~ wait, Is that Mint Chip?" he asks, zeroing in on his favorite flavor. You can barely contain your excitement as he reaches for the scooper and hands you a bowl. "Wow, look at all of these toppings. You really went all out."

"I figured you could use a bit of a pick me up, so feel free to dish up on as much ice cream as you want." 

"This is amazing, I don't even know what to say." he chuckles dryly. "Just a few minutes ago I felt so terrible, and now I just feel so loved. Thank you, y/n, I really don't know what I did to deserve you."

He pulls you close to him and lets off a shaky, emotional sigh; although you are starving, you let him hold you as long as he needs to, even if it means the ice cream gets a bit softer in the meantime.

Tagging: @pixelcafe-network

[stargazedwinchester]

Peace | Sam

This is a rewrite of a 10 (yes TEN) year old imagine I wrote back in 2014. If you find the original PLEASE don't tell me, it's horrifically cringy and I have missed writing so bad so I think doing a few of these rewrites will get me out of my slump so I can rejoin the SPN community again <3

I'm so Sam starved it's UNREAL lol!!!!!

I'll start a masterlist for my rewrites, the link will also be on my page :)

Word count: 702

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

These sombre, late October mornings make it almost impossible to wake up as early as you need to be, but sleeping next to Sam makes it even more so.

The wind whistles and blows excessively through the small crack in the window and the motel room is exceptionally smaller than the ones you had been in before, so trying to sleep next to a 6’5 man makes you feel very clammy.

Although you can’t get much sleep nowadays, watching Sam is your favourite pass time. His features remain calm. At peace. Which is out of character for him recently. Being able to witness Sam that tranquil is the best thing you could observe up close.

You had been sharing beds together the past few nights, since Dean snores like a Bulldog with a blocked nose. And the fact that the motels you have been travelling to haven’t had 3 rooms spare at all. The amount of times that Sam has offered to sleep with Dean or even sleep in the armchair is ridiculous, so you had to tell him it’s okay to share a bed together. He insisted, but had eventually given up because he couldn’t get comfy enough in the armchair.

You quietly lay yourself back down so you are eye level with Sam. His breathing is light, but obvious that he’s in a deep sleep. His shoulders rise and fall, a hand tucked underneath his head.

You’ve been on the road with the brothers for quite some time. This started off as doing a favour for them saving you, then them returning the favour for saving them, then… it eventually lead up to you travelling with them and never leaving their side. You all got along surprisingly well after the first encounter you endured. Dean was more than willing to end your suffering after assuming you were in with the bad guys, but after some convincing from Sam, he let you go. It only took one more run in for them to accept your help for their hunt.

You like watching him sleep. The experiences they shared in their daily lives must be exhausting. They both had admitted they’ve done this since they were young, their father forcing them to move city to city every other week because he had an enormous case he was attempting to solve. They spared you the details but admitted that their father passed to save Dean's life. It was heartwarming hearing that, but the rest just makes you feel parental guilt toward them.

You remove the strands of hair that laid astray in front of his face. Not helping yourself, you grazed Sam’s cheek, caressing with your thumb.

Sam groans, his eyes squinting tiredly.

“Morning,” you whisper, a small grin appearing on your face. He smiles back. “What time is it?” He raises his arm up and stretches, exposing his bare chest. His tattoo peaks through the sheet and you can’t help but admire his upper torso. The veins leading up from his hand to his arm are prominent against the early Texas sun.

“It’s six.” You reply, lauding at his features and how they correlate together with the sunlight. He’s gorgeous, obviously, but right now… it’s more obvious than ever. He groans again, pulling the sheets over his face. You giggle, pulling them away. He glances into your eyes, and you stare back. You can’t help but feel a certain way about him. Ever since laying eyes on him when you first met him, you knew he was different. And the way he’s looking at you now makes you feel different.

Sam observes your face, moving down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. He licks his own lips and pauses. “What?” You ask gently, your heart warming at the thought of what’s about to happen. Your cheeks flush crimson as he smirks. “Can I kiss you?” He uttered, and you nod. You move forward and place your hand on his shoulder, moving your hand down to his bicep. Your lips barely touch before you could taste him, your heart fluttering and your stomach turning. He hesitates, but then pulls you in carefully but passionately.

This morning couldn’t get any better.