#i think this is another reason i like twelve too. twelve’s just got shit in there. chairs and blackboards and his guitar. it still feels

[quietwingsinthesky]

now that my friend pointed it out i cant stop thinking about the design of the tardis in the tv movie because 1) it was gorgeous but 2) that was a home. that was his home. he had a chair to lounge in and a record player. seeing the tardis in the tv show, that one huge console room, bigger on the inside and yeah, it’s impressive but it’s functional. (i’m assuming this is a budget thing, because it would probably be extremely impractical to have the kind of set they put together for the tv movie for every episode of an actual show lmao.)

there’s just something so. i think it’s the first time i’ve really looked at the doctor in the tardis and thought, right, he lives in there. rather than it just being his car. it is very funny to think of the doctor as a guy living out of his shitty van, but no, the tardis can be a home. it can be warm and comfy and full of knick-knacks.

[fullsunstrawberry]

Dirty little secret

Synopsis: Childhood best friends' relationship is strained when you drunkenly sleep with his new best friend. Chenle’s panic about y/n regretting their one night stand turns into a secret relationship. Just as you think everything is fine, you're faced with the ultimatum: “It’s either him or me.” or in other words: A small silly little pinky promise will destroy a friendship

Genre: friends to lovers, hidden romance, forbidden (not really) lovers??

Content Warnings: swearing, dreamies getting drunk, mention of getting blackout drunk, one-night stand (not described), turned more, ANGST with fluffy end, Jisung is a little shit in this, very vanilia and sweet smut.

Word count: 7k

a/n: sorry this was a bit later than i expected for it come out! a lot of stuff popped up this weekend :( ALSO I HAVE TO TAG @lowkeychenle IN EVERYTHING CHENLE RELATED SOOOO LOVE YAH <3

Teaser Taglist: @haechansbbg @bunnychui @theandypark @bigjugz03 @babbymochiiii @xrminarlert34

"Come on! You never miss a hangout," Jisung whined into the phone.

“They always end up with me getting drunk and sleeping on the dorm couch, no thanks,” you replied.

“This time it’s at Chenle’s house. You can even sleep call dibs on his spare bedroom!” Jisung reasoned.

“I’m not getting out of this, am I?” You already knew the answer.

“Nope, see you later!”

Once Jisung ended the call, you had a moment to think. Great, you got yourself into another hangout. It’s not that you hate hanging out with the guys, but you've started to develop a little crush on Chenle.

He’s been extra flirty with you lately. It’s not because he likes you. He's been playful with everyone! Well, that's what you try to tell yourself.

But you can't like him! Jisung would go nuts. He was the one to introduce you to all the guys, promising you wouldn't like any of them when you were twelve. But it seems like Jisung has held you up to that silly pinky promise.

One time you told Jisung that Renjun's new haircut looked really good on him and he freaked out, claiming you were falling for him and it was against the “Bro code.” This made you confused because you’re pretty sure that's not what bro code is, but he looked very upset, so you didn't question it.

Now there is no way you will ever admit to liking Chenle. If he got upset with Renjun, you know he would be furious if you even flirted back with Chenle. That’s his best friend! He’s not the type to be happy about his boy and girl best friend dating. You're sure he’s told Chenle so you never took his flirting too seriously. But that didn't stop your heart from beating after every time he looked at you.

A group of guys yelled as soon as Chenle opened the door. “They’re already this rowdy,” you sighed, already coming up with excuses as to why you had to leave.

Chenle laughed at your disapproval written all over your face. “Stick by me, I swear I'm not as bad as them.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing that he was literally the loudest one. You let out a “mmh” before walking around him to be greeted with a bunch of “Y/NNNNs.” You could definitely tell they started drinking without you by the way Donghyuck reached out to you with grabby hands.

“Already starting without me!” you grabbed an already-opened beer on the table and took a swig out of it.

“It's not our fault you're always late,” Jaemin teased.

“Sorry, I have a life.”

“Reading fanfiction?” Renjun giggled.

“Can’t believe I'm already getting attacked, I just arrived!”

“I told you to stick by me,” Chenle laughed.

“You're right. It’s me and you now… Let’s get drunk!” You smiled, grabbing another beer to give to Chenle.

You're glad you didn't have to wake up on a couch hungover. Waking up in a bed surrounded by the comfiest blanket wrapped around you felt like heaven. Not ever wanting to wake up.

You stretched to feel the coldness of the other side of the bed. But your leg hit another leg that wasn't your own. You don’t remember anything after Donghyuck’s karaoke challenge. Did someone sleep over too? Mark was supposed to pick up the guys and bring them back to the dorm… Maybe he forgot?

Moving your head to see who ended up passed out with you, you froze.

“WHY DON’T I HAVE ANY CLOTHES ON?!?”

Should you look? Should you not look? You slowly turn your head to check who you fell asleep with. Maybe you didn't hook up with one of your friends… Maybe you were just overheated and took off your clothes.

Turning over, you yelp in shock. Chenle is still sleeping next to you. Even worse, he’s shirtless, and you don’t really want to check under the sheets to confirm your suspicions.

But before you could panic any further, you noticed that Chenle was still sound asleep, a peaceful expression on his face. You took a moment to calm yourself down and gather your thoughts. Maybe there was a logical explanation for this situation.

You carefully wiggled out of the bed, making sure not to disturb Chenle. As you grabbed your clothes scattered across the room, memories of last night started to flood back. The drunken laughter, the friendly banter, and the way all of the guys left. All you could remember was cleaning up the kitchen because you felt bad leaving it such a mess.

Then Chenle's hands grabbed yours in protest and said he would clean it up in the morning. But instead of agreeing you tried to pull his hands away which caused him to press into you.

Shaking your head to bring yourself back to reality you quickly threw your clothes back on and made your way downstairs. Needing some water because of how dry your throat felt. You didn't want to even think about why your throat hurt...

Once downstairs you can finally think about what the hell just happened. But no, life hates you. Instead, you were met with Mark washing dishes.

"Finally you woke up" Mark laughed before turning around and being met with a face he did not expect to see.

"Why did you come down from Chenle’s room?" 

You blinked at Mark's question, trying to come up with a plausible response. "Oh, I just woke up and wanted some water," you stammered, attempting to act casual.

Mark raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "Water? Really? Because it looked like you were in quite a rush to get out of there."

You felt the heat rising to your cheeks as you fumbled for words. "I just... didn't want to disturb Chenle. He's still sleeping, and I didn't want to wake him up."

Mark's eyes narrowed, studying your face. "Uh-huh. Sure." He seemed unconvinced, but he didn't press further. Instead, he went back to washing the dishes.

You took the opportunity to escape the awkward situation and headed towards the kitchen table “What do I do Mark, I fucked up.” 

Mark sighed, turned off the water, and dried his hands on a kitchen towel before looking at you with a serious expression. "Well, it depends on what you want. Did something happen between you and Chenle last night?"

You hesitated for a moment before deciding to be honest with Mark. "I don't remember much, but I woke up in his bed, and I think we hooked up. I have no idea what went down, and I'm panicking."

Mark sighed again, his expression softening. "Look, Y/N, shit happens. People get drunk, things get blurry. Maybe nothing happened, or maybe something did. The important thing is to communicate with Chenle. Figure out what both of you remember and how you both feel about it."

"But what if he thinks it’s gross or something?" you worriedly questioned.

Mark shook his head. "Chenle is a good guy, and he knows how things can happen when everyone's been drinking. Just talk to him. Honesty is the key here."

Taking a deep breath, you nodded. 

• ──────── •

Before you could process the situation, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the stairs. Chenle, struggling to pull on his hoodie and hastily reaching for his keys, descended in a rush of movement.

"Easy there, you going to hurt yourself" Mark teased, chuckling as Chenle glanced up with an expression of sheer panic.

"Mark, fuck! I messed up big time. Y/N's going to hate me, and she'll never want to see me again. I genuinely like her, and I've messed everything up," Chenle exclaimed, the urgency in his voice evident.

Mark raised an eyebrow, exchanging a knowing look with you. "Well, you might want to talk to her about that instead of assuming the worst," he suggested.

Chenle's eyes widened as he finally noticed your presence. "Y/N, I... I'm so sorry if I did something wrong. I don't really remember what happened, but I know we something did happen, and now I'm just freaking out," he rambled, looking genuinely distressed.

You took a deep breath, trying to ease the tension in the room. "Chenle, let's just talk about it, okay? I don't remember much either, but panicking won't help. We need to figure out what actually happened and how we both feel about it."

Chenle nodded, relief washing over his face. "Yeah, you're right. We should talk." He looked at Mark, who gave him an encouraging nod. 

“This is something you two have to figure out.” Mark grabbed his jacket and left. 

As Mark left, you and Chenle sat down at the kitchen table, exchanging nervous glances. The awkwardness in the air was noticeable, but both of you knew that avoiding the conversation wouldn't solve anything.

"Okay, so, let's try to piece together what happened last night," you suggested, breaking the silence.

Chenle nodded, his eyes focused on the table. "I remember the guys leaving, and you were helping me with the dishes. Then... things got a bit blurry."

You sighed, realizing that your memories matched his. "Yeah, I remember that too. But after that, it's all a blur. I woke up in your bed, and we're both... well, you know."

Chenle ran his fingers through his hair, looking frustrated. "I don't want things to be weird between us. I genuinely like you, Y/N. I just hope I didn't mess everything up."

You reached out, placing a comforting hand on his. "Chenle, I really like you too. Maybe we can start over?"

Chenle's eyes brightened at your words, a genuine smile forming on his face. "Yeah, let's start over. How about I take you to a restaurant and we can finish this conversation.” 

“Are you asking me on a date!” You smiled.

Chenle grinned, nodding enthusiastically. "Yeah, I am. I think we could both use a fresh start. We can go right now!”

You laughed and shook your head ‘no’ “We can go later, I have to get ready for it.”

“Oh…yeah ops” Chenle laughed standing back up “How about tonight?” 

“Can’t wait a little longer?” You teased.

“Hell no! Not when it comes to you.”

You couldn't help but blush at Chenle's enthusiastic response. "Alright then, tonight it is. I'll make sure to be ready for our date."

Chenle grinned, his excitement contagious. "Perfect! I'll pick you up later. 

• ──────── •

As you got ready for the date, you took extra care with your appearance. You wanted to make a good impression, to show Chenle that you were genuinely interested in exploring this connection further. You could already feel the butterflies in your stomach

The hours crept by slowly, each minute feeling like an eternity as anticipation filled the air.

 Finally, the moment arrived. Chenle looked exceptionally handsome in his casual attire, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He smiled warmly as he handed them to you, his eyes filled with genuine affection.

"You look…beautiful," he said softly, causing your cheeks to flush with a rosy hue.

"Thank you," you replied, feeling yourself becoming more at ease in his presence. "You look pretty amazing yourself."

Chenle chuckled and offered you his arm. "Shall we?” 

You linked your arm with his, nodding with a smile. "Let's go."

The date with Chenle was everything you’d hoped for and more. The restaurant was a familiar place, a small little shop that you once mentioned wanting to visit before. The atmosphere was cozy and inviting, with wooden tables, soft cushions, and flickering candles that cast gentle shadows on the walls. Soft music played in the background, a soothing blend of piano and strings that set the perfect mood for the evening.

Chenle was charming from the moment he sat down, his eyes sparkling with excitement and if you didn’t know him well you could have missed the nervousness he expressed through his body language. He pulled your chair out for you, a sweet gesture that made your heart flutter. 

“You remembered?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

“Of course I did,” he replied, a smile playing on his lips. “I’ve been looking forward to taking you here.” You tried to keep your blush in check, but his smile made it impossible. 

His earlier jitters seemed to fade as the night went on, replaced by genuine enthusiasm. He asked about your day, listened intently, and shared stories that made you laugh, his laughter infectious. It was clear he had put thought into every aspect of the evening, from the restaurant choice to the easy flow of conversation.

Throughout the evening, Chenle’s attentiveness and charm were evident. He complimented you effortlessly. “I know I already told you but you look absolutely beautiful,” he said sincerely.

“Thank you,” you said, feeling your cheeks warm. “You’re not looking too shabby yourself.” You joked, earning a small laugh from him.

As the waiter brought your dishes, Chenle made a toast. “To a fantastic evening and getting to know each other even better.”

You clinked glasses. “To new beginnings.”

You both laughed together, “Was that too cheesy?” Chenle asked. 

You shook your head no, “This is just crazy, I didn’t expect all of this from you. You know? Being so romantic!”

Chenle chuckled, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "I wanted to make sure our first real date was special. I know things got off to a confusing start, but I really like you, Y/N. I want to see where this can go."

Your heart fluttered at his words, feeling a warmth spread on your cheeks. "I really like you too, Chenle. And I appreciate all the effort you've put into tonight."

The conversation flowed easily. You shared stories, jokes, and dreams, discovering things you never knew about each other. Chenle's eyes never left yours, his gaze soft.

“You know,” Chenle said, leaning in slightly, “I’ve been really looking forward to this. It’s been a while since I’ve had a date where I felt this comfortable.”

“I’m glad you’re having a good time,” you said, your heart fluttering at his words. “I am too.”

During a brief pause in the conversation, Chenle reached across the table and took your hand. “I’ve been thinking,” he said softly, “I really enjoy being with you. I’d love for us to spend more time together, if you’re up for it.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I’d like that a lot.”

Chenle smiled, a mix of relief and happiness on his face. “Great. I was hoping you would.”

As the night drew to a close, Chenle walked you to your door. The night air was cool against your skin, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves overhead. 

“Do you think we can make this a regular thing?” Chenle asked, his voice hopeful.

You smiled warmly. “I’d like that a lot.”

Chenle’s face lit up with a bright, genuine grin. “Me too. I’m really glad we talked things through.”

He leaned in, and for a brief, breathless moment, you thought he might kiss you. But instead, he pulled you into a warm hug, holding you close.

When you finally pulled away and said goodnight, you closed the door with a smile on your face, feeling like you were floating on air. Chenle had gone beyond all your expectations, and as you leaned against the door, you couldn’t help but replay the night in your mind, already missing him. 

Reaching into your bag you grabbed your phone and called Chenle. The phone rang a couple of times before he picked up. 

“Hey, you miss me already?” Chenle’s voice came through the phone. 

You chuckled at his playful tone. “Maybe… only just a little bit.” 

“What’s on your mind?” Chenle's voice held a teasing lilt as he waited for your response.

You hesitated for a moment, mumbling “Just wishing you would have kissed me”

Chenle went silent for a moment, and you could almost hear the smile in his voice when he spoke again. "Well, I can fix that."

Before you could even process his words, you heard a light knock on your door. Confusion filled you as you made your way back, wondering if your mind was playing tricks on you. As you opened the door, there stood Chenle, breath heavy.

"Surprise," he said softly.

Your heart leaped in your chest as Chenle closed the gap between you, cupping your face gently with his free hand. Leaning in, Chenle pressed his lips against yours in a soft, tender kiss.

As Chenle pulled back slightly, his eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation or discomfort. But all he found was a dazed smile on your face. With a chuckle, he leaned in again, deepening the kiss.

His hands found your waist and he pressed you further into your house. With one foot, he closed the door behind him, never breaking the kiss between you two.

Chenle pulled away, a small whine leaving your lips in the absence of his touch. He chuckled before making sure your door was locked and turning back towards you. 

Without a word, Chenle lifted you effortlessly into his arms, carrying you towards the living room and towards your bedroom. He set you down gently on your bed, his eyes never leaving yours as he caressed your cheek with a tender touch.

The tension filled the room. Chenle's gaze was intense, you could feel your heart racing.

"I've been thinking of you," he confessed, his voice husky with emotion. "I can't hold back anymore."

You reached up to cup his face, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. "Then don't," you whispered, barely able to believe this was really happening

Chenle’s lips met yours again in an instant, this kiss deeper and more urgent. His hands roamed your sides, pulling you closer, each touch sending shivers down your spine and making you dizzy with desire.

He broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice soft, breathless, but filled with genuine concern.

You nodded, your fingers brushing through his hair. “Yes, I’m sure,” you whispered.

Chenle smiled, his expression softening. “Good,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. He trailed kisses down your jawline, his touch igniting every nerve in your body. You tugged him closer, and he responded eagerly, deepening the kiss once more.

Chenle’s movements grew more confident, more assured, as he felt your response. He gently guided you back against the couch, his body hovering over yours. His kisses grew more passionate and demanding as his hands continued to explore. You could feel the tension building between you, the air thick with anticipation of what was going to happen.

In one swift motion, he pulled away just long enough to remove his shirt, tossing it aside before his hands returned to you, now with a new urgency. You mirrored his actions, discarding your dress and pulling him back down, feeling the sensation of his skin against yours. The closeness amplified every touch.

Chenle’s lips trailed down your body, leaving a path of kisses along your collarbone and down to your chest. His hands were everywhere, exploring, teasing, learning every curve and contour of your body. A soft moan escaped your lips as his kisses became more insistent, his mouth and hands working together to drive you wild.

You pulled him closer, needing to feel him, to have every inch of him pressed against you. Your hands roamed his back, your nails lightly scratching as you both lost yourselves in the heat of the moment.

“God, I’ve been wanting this for so long,” Chenle murmured against your skin as he pushed into you. His words sent a fresh wave of warmth through you, and you responded by wrapping your legs around his waist, drawing him even closer. The sensation of him against you, the weight of his body, the heat between you—it was almost too much.

Your breaths mingled, rapid and uneven, as the rhythm between you quickened. Chenle’s hands moved with purpose, guiding your hips as you moved together, a perfect and desperate synchrony that had you both gasping. You could feel every beat of his heart, every shiver of anticipation as you inched closer and closer to the edge.

“Fuck, i’m so close” Chenle groaned, picking up his pace. You couldn’t even respond, only broken moans leaving your lips.

As both of you hit your climax together, moans and gasps filled the room, giving way to an intense wave of pleasure that washed over you both.

Chenle pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he met your gaze. He wanted to say something but he didn’t instead his body collapsed against the sheets next to you.

His arms wrapped around you tightly, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back as you both lay in a comfortable silence. “I don’t want this to end,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

As you drifted off to sleep in Chenle’s arms, the events of the night replayed in your mind, leaving you with a sense of contentment you hadn’t felt in a long time. You didn’t know what was going to happen next.

• ──────── •

Over the next few weeks, your bond with Chenle grew stronger, despite your attempts to keep things under wraps—especially from Jisung. But it was becoming harder to hide. Chenle’s growing affection was obvious, and your friends were starting to pick up on the subtle changes in your behavior.

Chenle conviced the guys to start doing movie night at the guy’s dorms instead of his house. Telling everyone that his house was a mess and he didn’t want to clean it. Hiding the real reason. That they started catching on to you staying later than everyone else. He wanted to be able to hang out after, just the two of you. 

“What are we watching tonight?” Mark asked, plopping down in the middle of the couch.

“Avatar,” Renjun suggested.

Donghyuck groaned. “Not Avatar again!”

“We watched *Top Gun* last time, so let’s watch the sequel,” you offered, taking your usual spot at the end of the couch.

Mark nodded and started searching for the movie.

Chenle slid in beside you, so casually that you didn’t think much of it. But in hindsight, you should have known it would cause some tension.

When Jisung finally joined with the popcorn, he automatically moved to sit next to you, just as he always did. But when he saw Chenle already there, he hesitated before sitting down beside him, hiding his confusion. If you hadn’t been so focused on Chenle, you might have noticed the brief furrow in Jisung’s brow. Instead, you were caught up in the excitement of being close to Chenle, hoping to sneak a few quiet moments together.

As the movie began and Jeno turned off the lights, you tried to relax, but Chenle’s presence beside you made your heart race. When his arm brushed against yours and his fingeres brushing against your thigh. Each small touch sent a shiver down your spine.

Jisung, sitting just inches away, stared at the screen, his face unreadable. He usually laughed along with everyone, throwing in his own jokes, but tonight he was unusually quiet. Occasionally, his eyes would drift toward you and Chenle, only to snap back to the movie when you glanced his way. If any of your friends noticed his unease, they didn’t mention it.

Jaemin, oblivious to the tension, tossed a piece of popcorn at Donghyuck after another snide remark about the movie. The usual banter continued, but you could feel a strange tension in the air, something you couldn’t quite understand.

A few scenes into the movie, Chenle’s hand found yours, his fingers lightly brushing yours before intertwining them. The simple gesture felt both comforting and thrilling. You knew you should be more careful, especially with Jisung so close, but it was hard to resist Chenle’s attention.

Jisung shifted uncomfortably. Though you were focused on Chenle, the small movement caught your attention. You turned to look at him just as he glanced away, his expression closed off and distant. It was so unlike him, and it tugged at your conscience.

Suddenly, Jeno, who had been relatively quiet, cleared his throat, catching everyone’s attention. “So... anyone notice how cozy these two are getting?” He nodded toward you and Chenle, a smirk on his face.

The room fell silent for a moment. Your cheeks burned as you pulled your hand from Chenle’s, hoping the dim lighting hid your embarrassment. Chenle chuckled softly, trying to play it off, but you could feel the tension building.

Jaemin snickered. “Took you long enough to notice, Jeno.”

You tried to laugh along, but the awkwardness was overwhelming. Jisung’s face remained unreadable, though you noticed his jaw tighten slightly. You wanted to say something to ease the tension, but the words wouldn’t come.

Mark, always the peacemaker, tried to steer the focus back to the movie. “Alright, let’s just watch the movie, yeah?”

But the mood had shifted. The lighthearted atmosphere was gone, and the weight of unspoken words hung in the air. Jisung’s silence was the most noticeable, and you had a sinking feeling that this wouldn’t end well.

As the movie played on, you found it increasingly difficult to concentrate. Instead, your thoughts swirled, questions nagging at you. What did Jisung think? Is he mad at you and Chenle? And more importantly, why did it matter so much?

When the film ended, everyone scattered—some headed to the kitchen for snacks, while others stayed on the couch, chatting. You felt a strange mix of relief and anxiety, glad that the movie was over but nervous about what might happen next.

As you stood up to stretch, you noticed Jisung was still on the couch, his eyes fixed on the screen as if deep in thought. You hesitated, feeling an urge to talk to him, to address the tension. But before you could do anything, Chenle leaned in close, his voice soft.

“I’m sorry,” Chenle whispered in your ear.

You couldn’t help but smile a little. Turning to face him, you whispered back, “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Squeezing his hand lightly, trying to comfort him.

But you quickly pulled your hand away when you heard Jisung yell, “What is going on?!”

The room fell into a tense silence as Jisung’s voice echoed, his sudden outburst freezing everyone in place. All eyes turned to him, but his gaze was fixed on you and Chenle, a mix of confusion and hurt etched across his face.

You felt your heart drop, panic rising in your chest. Jisung rarely lost his cool, and seeing him like this made the situation all the more real. Chenle, who had been so calm and collected moments before, shifted uncomfortably beside you, clearly taken aback by Jisung's reaction.

Mark was the first to break the silence, his voice tentative. "Jisung, hey, it's just a movie night. Let's all just—"

But Jisung wasn’t having it. "No, it’s not just a movie night, Mark," he snapped, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Chenle. "Something's been going on, and no one's saying anything!"

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, to calm him down, but the words caught in your throat.

Chenle, sensing your distress, took a small step forward, placing himself slightly between you and Jisung. "Jisung, listen, it’s not what you think—"

"Then what is it?" Jisung demanded, his voice laced with frustration. "Because it sure looks like you two have been hiding something from all of us. From me."

The hurt in his voice cut through you, and guilt twisted in your stomach. Jisung wasn’t just angry; he was hurt. And you knew why. He’d always been open with his feelings, always the one to bring everyone together, and now, he felt left out—betrayed, even.

Donghyuck, usually the one to defuse any tension with a joke, stood awkwardly to the side. Renjun and Jaemin exchanged worried glances, while Jeno just stared at the floor, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

You took a deep breath, finally finding the courage to speak. "Jisung, I'm sorry. We didn’t mean to keep anything from you."

"Then why did you?" Jisung’s voice was softer now, but the hurt was still there, raw and real.

"Because we didn’t even know what was happening," you admitted, your voice shaking slightly. "We didn’t want to make things weird or hurt anyone’s feelings. Especially not yours."

Chenle nodded in agreement, his expression serious. "We weren’t trying to keep secrets, Jisung. It just…happened. And we’re sorry for how it’s affected you."

Jisung looked between the two of you, the anger slowly draining from his face, replaced by something sadder, more vulnerable. "I just don’t get why you didn’t talk to me. You always talk to me."

You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. Jisung had always been there for you, always ready to listen, to help, and now you realized how much your secrecy had hurt him. "I’m sorry," you whispered, stepping closer to him. "I should have talked to you. I just…I just I didn’t want to mess up our friendship.”

For a long, tense moment, Jisung said nothing. His eyes were fixed on the floor, his thoughts clearly in turmoil. The room was thick with tension, everyone holding their breath, waiting for his response.

When he finally looked up, his expression was calmer, but there was a guardedness in his eyes that hadn't been there before. "You promised me," he said softly, the words tinged with quiet betrayal. "We promised never to keep secrets from each other."

Suddenly, his calm facade cracked, and anger surged through him. He pointed sharply at Chenle, his voice rising with emotion. "YOU PROMISED ME!"

Chenle looked down, guilt written across his face as Jisung continued, his voice trembling with a mix of hurt and frustration. "You promised me that you would never go after her. She was supposed to be off-limits."

The room seemed to shrink, the weight of Jisung's words hanging heavy in the air. Everyone else was too shocked to speak.

Chenle flinched at Jisung’s accusation, his expression one of regret and confusion. "Jisung," he began, voice barely above a whisper, "I didn’t plan any of this. I didn’t think I’d—"

"That’s the problem!" Jisung cut him off, his voice shaking. "You didn’t think! You just… acted. Everything is a joke to you."

You could feel the tears welling up, your heart aching at the sight of Jisung so broken, so unlike his usual self. This was the Jisung who’d been your rock, the one who always made you laugh when you were down, and now, you were the one who’d hurt him.

"Jisung, please," you pleaded, your voice cracking. "I didn’t know how to handle this. I never wanted to hurt you."

The room remained silent, everyone acutely aware that they were intruding on something intensely personal. Jeno shifted uncomfortably, Renjun bit his lip, and Donghyuck looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

You finally broke the tense silence, your voice trembling. 'What can I do...?'

“Stop,” Jisung interrupted, his tone firm and unyielding. You frowned, confused by the sudden command.

“Stop this right now,” he said, frustration clear in his voice.

Before you could reply, Chenle spoke up, concern in his tone. “Jisung, what are you trying to say—”

“It’s either me or him,” Jisung interrupted, his eyes fixed on you with intensity.

Chenle glanced at you, waiting for your answer, but you found yourself unable to speak.

Before you could gather your thoughts, Chenle stepped back from you. “She chooses you.”

As he left, he murmured, “I’m not going to force you to choose.”

When the door closed behind him, an uneasy silence fell over the room. You looked around, noticing the apologetic expressions on the other guys’ faces.

You got all your stuff before looking at Jisung one more time and let out a small “I’m really sorry.” before leaving. 

• ──────── •

Days turned into weeks before you were able to hang out with the boys again. When you finally did, it was clear that Chenle wasn’t himself. The atmosphere felt strained and uneasy.

Chenle's usually cheerful demeanor was not there, and he seemed distant, lost in his own thoughts. The conversations among the group felt forced, and laughter that used to come easily now seemed rare.

As the day wore on, you found yourself increasingly concerned. When you finally got a moment alone with Chenle, you decided to address the issue.

“Hey, it’s nice seeing you again.”

Chenle smiled a little bit, “It’s nice seeing you too.” A moment off awkward silence settled between you two. 

“Y/n, lets start over…For everyones sake.”

You nodded, a smile on your face. You’ll finally get to see Chenle again. Hopefully the group hangouts would go back to normal. 

As you were clouded with hope, Chenle’s emotions were different. He didn’t want to pretend to be fine. But he would do anything for you.  As the guys returned Chenle put a small on his face and started being like his old self. The guys all started to brighten up. You couldn’t help but smile. Everything was going back to normal…Finally. 

• ──────── •

You were worried to have another movie night. Every movie night seems to be the cause of something bad.

But you didnt want to let it affect you. Chenle has been working very hard on restoring the peace. It had been weeks since the fight between you, Jisung, and Chenle. However things started to improve, you couldn’t shake off the worry that it might all go wrong again. But Chenle had been putting in a lot of effort to smooth things over, and you hoped the peace would last.

When the night finally arrived, the atmosphere was lighter than it had been in weeks. Chenle was trying his best to act like his old self, and it seemed like he was succeeding— at least on the surface. The guys were chatting and laughing, and you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope.

Mark, Renjun, and Jaemin were debating which movie to watch, and you joined in with a smile, trying to enjoy the moment. Donghyuck was making jokes, and the room was filled with a sense of normalcy that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Chenle, sitting next to you, seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself. He threw a playful glance your way and nudged you with his shoulder, trying to break through the lingering awkwardness. You appreciated the effort and responded with a smile, though a part of you was still on edge.

Jisung sat down on the floor, across from you. “Oh Y/n, I met a guy who I think you would get along with.” 

You glanced sideways and noticed Chenle stiffen next to you. His casual demeanor from earlier seemed to waver, and a flicker of discomfort crossed his face. You tried to keep your expression neutral, though you were tense.

“oh um…” You didn’t know how to react. How could Jisung even ask that? Let alone around everyone else. 

Jisung not understanding or not caring about your discomfort continued. “He’s really into music and literature, and he’s got this great sense of humor. I think you two would get along really well.”

Chenle shifted slightly, his hand moving to rest on his knee. You could feel the subtle change in his body language, his usual act replaced by a subtle unease.

Jaemin, noticing the tension, lightly shoved Jisung on the shoulder “Come on, stop that.”

Jisung shrugged, “I’ll send you his number.” 

This was the final straw for Chenle. His demeanor shifted suddenly, his earlier attempts at playing civil were gone.. He stood up, unable to mask his frustration any longer.

“You’re cruel,” Chenle interjected, his voice tighter than usual, “Don’t act like im not right here.”

The room fell into a stunned silence. The casual banter ceased, replaced by an awkward tension that hung heavily in the air. Chenle’s outburst had caught everyone off guard, and even Jisung looked taken aback.

You quickly turned to Chenle, trying to offer a reassuring smile, but it was clear that the situation was beyond the point of acting like everything was fine. You felt a pang of guilt for not dealing with the situation better. 

“I’m sorry, Chenle,” you said softly, reaching out for his hand. 

Chenle took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. “It’s not your fault, It was never your fault.”

“You know,” Chenle turned to Jisung, “I don’t care about your feelings! I love Y/N and im not going to let you hurt her anymore.” 

Jisung’s expression morphed from surprise to defensiveness, his features hardening as he stood up to face Chenle. The room was silent, tension crackling in the air as the two boys locked eyes in a silent battle.

“Hey, calm down,” Mark interjected, attempting to diffuse the escalating fight. But Chenle was not going to back down again, his gaze unwavering as he continued to address Jisung.

“You think you can just come in here and act like everything’s fine after what happened?” Chenle’s voice rose with each word, his frustration and hurt pouring out. “I’m not going to stand by and watch you hurt Y/n again.”

Jisung’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. “Im not hurting Y/n, you are hurting her!” he shot back, his own anger bubbling to the surface.

Renjun stepped forward, speaking calmly but firmly. “Guys, let's all take a step back and calm down,” he suggested, his voice cutting through the charged atmosphere. “This isn't helping anyone.”

Chenle and Jisung both paused, their eyes locked in a silent battle. 

“We need to talk this out calmly,” Renjun continued, his gaze shifting between the two of them. “We're all friends here, and we can work through this together.”

“Shut up Renjun! I’m tired of everyone acting like nothing happened!” Chenle’s frustration boiled over. “Y/n deserves better than this.” 

Chenle stormed off again. Reminding you off what happened at the last movie night. 

Everyone’s eyes were on you now. “Did he say he loves me…” you whispered to yourself, still stuck on Chenle’s words.

You stood there, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. The room was filled with a tense silence as everyone processed what had just unfolded. Jisung's expression softened, a flicker of realization crossing his features as he glanced at you.

But before anyone could even say anything you got up from your seat and ran out the door in search for Chenle. 

But the door to the elevator was already shutting before you could say anything.

You sprinted towards the stairs, heart pounding in your chest. The thought of Chenle, hurt and upset, fueled your speed. As you reached the stairwell, you hesitated for a moment before taking the steps two at a time.

When you finally got to the ground floor, you scanned the area frantically, trying to catch a glimpse of Chenle. His words kept echoing in your mind. You couldn't let him walk away like this, not again.

But he wasnt in the lobby.

You pushed open the glass doors of the building, stepping out into the cool night air. The street was quiet, with only a few scattered passersby making their way along the sidewalk. You glanced left and right, unsure of which way Chenle might have gone.

Your heart raced as you spotted a figure sitting on a bench in the park across the street. You knew it was Chenle. Without a second thought, you hurried across the road towards him.

"Chenle!" you called out, your voice echoing in the stillness of the night. He turned to look at you, surprise flickering in his eyes before he quickly averted his gaze.

You reached his side, breathless from your sprint down the stairs. "Chenle," you whispered between deep breaths reaching out to touch his arm.

Before you could go on a rampage of apologies, Chenle couldn’t help but laughed. 

"I can't believe you ran all the way down here just to chase after me," Chenle said, a small smile playing on his lips. His eyes met yours, the tension that had filled the air was gone.

You couldn't help but let out a breathy laugh, relieved to see a glimpse of the Chenle you knew and cared for. "You’re worth it." 

Chenle's smile widened as he shifted on the bench, making room for you to sit beside him. You settled down, the cool night air wrapping around you both as you sat in comfortable silence for a moment.

"I'm sorry for running off like that," Chenle began, his tone softer now. "I just... I couldn't stand seeing you upset, especially because of me."

“Can you stop blaming yourself!”

Chenle looked at you, his eyes softening. He reached out and gently took your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I just want you to be happy, Y/n," Chenle said sincerely, his gaze searching yours. "I don't ever want to be the cause of your pain."

Taking a deep breath, you started, "Chenle, you have never been the cause of my pain," you said, turning so your body was facing him. "You've always been there for me, always caring and understanding. I appreciate you more than words can express."

Chenle's eyes widened slightly, before a soft smile spread on his face. “So what now?”

Chenle's smile was always contagious, and you found yourself mirroring it as you gazed into his eyes.

"Now," you began, your voice steady as you spoke, "you kiss me."

Chenle's lips curved into a smile. “You’re such a romantic.” Chenle joked, causing you to roll your eyes as he leaned in closer. His lips met yours in a gentle kiss. It was soft and sweet. All of your worries melted away. As long has you have eachother, everything is going to be okay.

© 2024 fullsunstrawberry all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works on other social media’s. reblogs and comments are appreciated a lot!

nct dream taglist: @lostinneocity @naqkja

general taglist: @haechansbbg @haolovre @talkingsaxy @chenlesfeetpic

[watarfallar]

Life Series Incorrect Quotes

Martyn: As top in this relationship, I think we should- Ren: I can't believe you're pulling rank on me.

Impulse: Are you sure Skizz's even gay? They barely even looked at me.

Skizz: How do you know how to kiss? Like who teaches you? Impulse: Well it’s actually a class, but unfortunately it’s full right now. Impulse: Would you like me to tutor you? Tango: That was smooth.

Gem, in Impulse’s bed: Morning… how’d ya sleep last night? Impulse, knocking Gem off: WHAT THE HELL?! Gem: Ow— Impulse: What were you doing in my bed? You were supposed to sleep on the air mattress on the floor! Gem: I had a nightmare. Impulse: You had a nightmare? What are you, five years old? Gem: Listen, I needed to feel comfortable and I was getting this perverse power dynamic vibe from me sleeping on the floor and you sleeping up there- Impulse, in a royal accent: Why yes, how high and mighty I am up on my twin XL! Gem: That is not what I meant— Impulse: Silence in the presence of your king, who sleeps a lofty twelve and a half inches above the ground! Gem: Listen, I’m not ashamed. I slept comfortably when I got up on your bed and I’m sure you did too. Impulse: Yeah, okay- Gem: You know what? I wanna know. How’d you sleep last night? Impulse: …That was the best I’ve slept in a while. Gem, gasping: The king slept comfortably with a peasant in his bed! Impulse: I did not consent to this- Gem, dramatically: But my liege, our love is forbidden! Impulse, on the phone: Hi, is this the front desk? Yeah, there’s a bed bug in my room and she’s six-foot-one, he’s got red hair. Gem: Ask them if they have one of those “Do Not Disturb” signs. I’ll put it on the door next time we… do it. Impulse: Okay, I'ma go shower and wash all of the you off of me. Gem: Oh, maybe together we could— Impulse: NO. Gem: Just to save water— Impulse: No! You don’t even pay for the water! Gem: …Good point.

Bdubs: What do you call quantums of electromagnetic radiation that don’t get along? Ren: What did you just say- Bdubs: Foetons! *Laughs* Ren: Wh-what?

Grian, at an awards show: Well, first of all, I’d like to thank Scar, the love of my life, for telling me Mumbo was going to win so don’t bother to prepare a speech.

Cleo: Bdubs, can you help me? All of my clothes keep disappearing for some reason. Bdubs, wearing a hoodie that's 5 times bigger than their size: Spooky.

BigB: What situation is not instantly improved by the addition of fishnets, I ask you. Scott: Being a fish. BigB: Well, shit.

Grian: I am an expert at identifying birds. Bdubs: Okay, what about those ones flying over there? Grian: Yeah, they're all birds.

Ren: I’m gonna die alone. Pearl: Ren, you’re not gonna die alone. Ren: Bdubs, was my safety net, okay? They got married and now I have to get a snake. Scar: Uh-huh. Why is that? Ren: If I’m gonna be an old lonely person, I’m gonna need a thing, you know? A hook. Like that guy in the subway who eats his own face. Ren: So I figured I’ll be “Crazy Man With A Snake”, you know? Crazy snake man. Ren: Then I’ll get more snakes, call them my babies. Kids won’t walk past my place, they will run! RUN AWAY FROM CRAZY SNAKE MAN!

Cleo, holding out a cookie for Lizzie: Look! This ones a heart, that’s how I feel about you! Lizzie: *Ugly crying* Cleo, holding out another cookie for Pearl: This ones like Michigan, that’s how I feel about you! Pearl, throwing their hands in the air: What does that mean?!

Grian: Did you wash the dishes? Mumbo: I thought you wanted to do that... Grian: *chuckles* You were WRONG.

Bdubs: Ren, I beg of you. Please, PLEASE go to the doctor. Ren: Hey, I'm sorry. Is this OUR stab wound?

BigB: Respect my trans homies or I’m gonna identify as a fucking problem.

Impulse: Everybody shut up, I'm thinking. Tango, patting them on the back: Well, don’t think too hard. I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.

Joel: What's with the new hat? Scott: Oh, this? It's nothing. Scar: It's the loudest nothing I ever saw. Cleo: Scott, you just can't mosey in here with a brand-new hat and act like you're not wearing a brand-new hat. Scott: Look, I'm trying something new, okay? Just take it easy. Etho: He's right, guys. Come on, let's not go down this path. It's ugly... Kinda like that hat– Scott: I got this from a nice store! Joel: What store? The one before you exit the Al Capone Museum? BigB, entering the room: What's up, Scott? Did you just finish Bling Ring-ing Bruno Mars' closet? Scott: I'm being brave, okay? You guys are sheep. You may want to take a long, hard look in the mirror. BigB: Better us than you. You look like a park ranger from a cartoon. Scott: Joel, do you think the hat looks bad? Joel: Oh, uh, me? Um, I... I wouldn't say it was bad. Like, I think it's just different, like something you would wear in Indiana... Jones and the Temple of Bad Hats.

BigB: Well Grian, I have to say, I'm really disappointed. Grian: Well, you didn't HAVE to say it. You could've just thought it.

[jintaka-hane]

Asked by: @artemis162534 (sorry! I had a problem with the original ask and had to make a screenshot)

Kiss your blorbo at the New Year’s Eve event

PAULIE

Summary: On New Year's Eve, your boss overplays the urgency of some ship project, leaving you stuck working late in the shipyard. It’s all a setup to give Paulie, the shy and hardworking colleague, a chance to spend time with you. Word count: 1200 Warning: x f!reader! fluff, shy Technically, it’s still January 15th in my timezone!! My self-imposed deadline!! I’m sorry it took me so long to finish this, but once I started working again, everything got a bit complicated. Thank you for reading and for all the positive feedback you’ve given me throughout this event!! Love you all!!

Tap, tap, tap.

Brow furrowed in concentration, you hammer the nail into place before picking another from the three tucked between your lips. You’re quite the sight. Kneeling on a wooden plank in an elegant evening gown, contrasted by the rough work gloves covering your hands. You’re barefoot too. The heels you put on thinking you’d be at the party with your coworkers, are useless here.

Tap, tap, tap.

You strike again with the hammer, running your thumb over the surface to make sure the nail is fully embedded. You’ve been working on this piece for so long that you’ve lost count of how many screwdrivers have passed through your hands. Brushing sawdust from your dress, you step back to check if the piece is perfectly aligned.

“It’s leaning too much,” you hear behind you the Vice President of the prestigious shipwright company, Galley-La.

Sighing, you wipe the sweat from your brow and turn just in time to catch the square Paulie tosses your way. A couple of seconds are enough for you to confirm that, indeed, the piece leaning. Mistakes like this would normally embarrass you, but after hours of nonstop work on this high-priority project, fatigue is catching up.

Paulie makes a gesture for you to come closer and examine the blueprints spread across the table. He’s dressed as elegantly as you are, in a suit jacket with a flower perched in the front pocket. “It’s a 90-degree angle, see?” he says, tracing his fingertips along the ship’s design.

Your head nearly brushes against his as you lean in to inspect the plans. Paulie steals a quick glance at you, blushing hard before snapping his eyes back to the blueprints. He’s trying his hardest to focus on the work. But as midnight approaches, it’s getting harder and harder to keep his thoughts in line.

"Come on, I'll help you fix it," he says, slipping on his goggles as he grabs a claw hammer and crouches down to pull out the nails.

Meanwhile, from the courtyard of Galley-La Headquarters, Iceburg raises his champagne glass and clinks it against Lulu’s and Tilestone’s. Watching the workers enjoying themselves, he muses to himself whether he might have exaggerated the urgency of your current project. Okay, fine, the deadline wasn’t that tight. Maybe you and Paulie could be here right now, celebrating with the rest of the company at the end-of-year party. But he had his reasons. He’d spent far too long watching Paulie pine after you with googly-eyed devotion, never daring to take a step forward. And people tend to kiss on New Year’s Eve, right? Maybe a quiet shipyard and a little nudge would do the trick... or maybe not. Iceburg sighs into his champagne. This was Paulie, after all.

"One, two, three, four..." Paulie mutters as he counts the cast-iron screws needed to get that perfect 90-degree angle. Only twelve are needed, but he’s already counted them four times, silently cursing as his mind loops over the words he wishes he could say to you tonight.

“Paulie, can you hold this here?” You make him jolt.

"Huh? Oh—yeah, sure," he tries to sound casual as he places his hands exactly where you asked. His fingers hover just a few centimeters from yours, but to him, the distance feels impossibly vast.

"Shit", your hands tremble. You’re too tired, and you can’t quite manage to fit the screwdriver into the slot.

“Let me,” Paulie takes the tool from your hands to relieve you and give you a break.

With a brief nod, you allow yourself to enjoy your much-needed pause. Your back leans against the wall as you watch Paulie work in silence. He’s so responsible and dedicated to his job... Even though he’s in an executive position, he’s always ready to roll up his sleeves and pitch in with everyone else when there’s a tight deadline.

Your eyes focus on his hands, which seem to caress the wood, treating the ships with as much care and respect as if they were his own. But your thoughts are interrupted as you catch the faint sound of shouts and the thrum of music from some party down at the port. You uncover your wrist, glance at your watch, and smile.

“Two minutes to midnight,” you say.

"Great," Paulie leans forward, flexing his arms as he applies more pressure, pretending the screw is giving him trouble. For a moment, he works in silence, his brow furrowed and his gaze fixed on the piece of wood, until he can't hold it in anymore. "Would you rather be with the others?" His question comes out suddenly.

“Uh, what?”

“I imagine this isn’t exactly the best New Year’s Eve for you,...” he explains, his focus still on the work. “Working nonstop… and with me…”

You giggle before grabbing another screw and handing it to him. “Paulie, I couldn’t think of a better way to spend New Year’s Eve.”

You smile hits him in the split second his eyes meet yours, and he chuckles before quickly averting his eyes. He’s never been able to hold your gaze when you smile at him like that.

“Okay, this is ready now,” he says, straightening up after giving the screwdriver a couple more turns.

From the port, distant shouts, cheers, and the sharp crack of fireworks drift toward you in the night air. You glance at your watch once more, and a smile spreads across your face.

“Happy New Year, Paulie!” you grin at him, reaching out to hug him. But he freezes, the screwdriver still hovering in mid-air.

“Happy New—shit!” he blurts out, covering his face with his hands as a wild blush spreads across his cheeks. You’re used to seeing him blush, but this? This is something else.

“Paulie!! Are you okay?” you step closer to him.

“Uh… yeah, I…” you hear him mumble through his hands. His face is radiating so much heat that his goggles fog up.

“Paulie?”

"Y-Yeah, I just..." he mumbles, still hiding behind his hands, and if it’s possible, you can tell he’s turning even redder. "I-I wanted to... damn, I wanted to kiss you… b-but..." The words get stuck in his throat, and he clenches his jaw, shutting up to stop making a fool of himself in front of you.

You sigh, unable to hold back a smile as you step closer and gently take his hands away from his face.

"Paulie..." you whisper, shaking your head. His eyes are squeezed shut behind his protective glasses, but when you gently lift them off and rest them on his forehead, he slowly opens his eyes, filled with embarrassment.

Leaning in just a little, you tilt your head, and your lips brush against his, feeling them warm, shaky, and hesitant. Your mouth guides his through his nervous clumsiness in slow but steady movements, drawing from him a kiss as soft as it is tender. Paulie's arms fall uselessly to his sides, and with a clank, the screwdriver slips from his hands and hits the floor. The sound makes you jump, and much to Paulie’s dismay, you pull away and glance down.

"Uhhh, Paulie," you say, your eyes widening at his work on the floor.

"Yeah?" he whispers, unable to tear his eyes away from you.

"This still isn’t a 90-degree angle!"

................................................................

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @armiliadawn @pandora-writes-one-piece @i-am-vita @eustasscapitankid @nocturnalrorobin @daydreamer-in-training <3

[haeryna]

I love idol and rockstar satosugu!! Do you think you’d expand more in depth on when Suguru got into a fist fight and when Satoru got bullied with reader sticking up for him 👀

sorry for the long wait anon, i was Scheming lol. i hope you like it! thank you for the ask <3 ↪ continued from here

tw: more homophobia (references to being called a slur), emotional constipation, not proofread, author is a sucker for angst

satoru is eight when the boys at the local playground start calling him names. at first they're petty things; "you run like a girl," or "too weak to be a boy." but you've noticed they've been getting bolder, recently. meaner. but it isn't until that day when that word falls from their mouth that you physically recoil, stomping up to them in your denim overalls and light-up pink sketchers.

"what did you just call him?"

the slur falls from the other boy's mouth as easy as breathing. satoru's lips are pressed in a hard line, but you can see the tinges of self-doubt in his eyes. before you can second guess yourself, you step up and slug the boy hard across the cheek. immediately he stumbles back, wailing, but you're too preoccupied with grabbing satoru's hand and running to care.

satoru will never admit it. but you saved a piece of him that day that he didn't even realize was there until later. he could feel his heart mending as he cooed over you, as you whined about the redness of your hands. the way you gazed up at him so trustingly as he gently blew over the braised knuckles, trying to soothe the sting. you were like his tether, he mused. keeping him grounded, keeping him away from his own thoughts.

"it hurts, 'toru," you whined, bringing him out of his thoughts, and he laughs, pressing a kiss to your hand.

"guess suguru and i will just have to teach you how to throw a proper punch, hm?"

you're twelve when you see the large crowd that's gathered in the courtyard of your middle school. when you push your way through, you can see satoru standing closest to the middle, the look in his eyes cold and hard. you tug at his sleeve.

"what's going on?"

before satoru can respond, another classmate eagerly replies, "geto is beating the shit out of some guy!"

your blood turns to ice in your veins, but as you move to try to see what's happening, satoru catches you in his arms, tugging you away. "don't," he chides, pressing your face into his chest and blocking your vision. "suguru didn't want you to see this."

"a fight, 'toru? why?" your voice sounds so bewildered, so hurt, that satoru almost cracks. he can't tell you about how suguru found out that the boy he's currently pummeling into the ground had been going around talking about how he wanted to "get a taste of the whore that geto and gojo have been keeping around." he can't tell you about the rage that had filled both of them, and the hint of fear. you had been their only weakness. the only reason suguru was fighting, satoru thinks, is because i lost the game of rock paper scissors.

after, when the crowd has dispersed, and after principal yaga has finished giving suguru and earful, you sit in his basement with him. tears crowd your eyes as you stubbornly push through, treating his scrapes with ointment and wrapping them carefully up in gauze.

"you don't have to do this," suguru says, softly. the pain you've been trying to hide in your eyes can't hide from him. "it's fine." your voice cracks and you sniffle as you press a bag of ice to his black eye.

suguru sighs, tugging you closer into his arms. "don't be like that. what's wrong, angel?"

"why were you fighting?" your voice is hushed, and you press the bag of ice more firmly to his eye, ignoring the quiet yelp of pain. "'toru won't tell me anything. what's going on, sugu?"

he sighs, cradling you a bit tighter. "do you trust me?"

you have absolutely no doubt in your voice when you reply, "of course."

"he was just, saying things that weren't right. and words weren't going to convince him otherwise." suguru brushes a strand of hair away from your face, eyes softening as he takes in your teary expression. "i promise i'll never fight unless it's absolutely necessary, alright?"

"promise?"

"I promise," he tells you, linking his pinky through yours with ease. "and i've never broken a promise before, have i?"

and he hadn't until that night.

[jiminiecrickets]

another love'a little dagger drabble??🌝

oc and taehyung are doing the nasty and then jimin calls oc, tae ist jealous and picks up the phone for oc and let's jimin hear what they're doing 🌝

warnings: riding/reverse cowgirl, they're so mean to each other for no reason lol, abrupt ending oops, also ignore any continuity errors please and thank

"fuck, you're pretty."

the wet slap of skin on skin only quickens in response. it's obscene, filthy, the way he tosses his head back as he grips your knees, bouncing his tight little ass on your cock with all the crass sexuality of an early megan fox movie. sweat drips down his temple, dampening the ends of his fading red hair. it's a pinkish-orange, uneven with sun exposure and a messy bleach and dye job, but somehow it looks intentional – something like a summer beach sunset. even the striking black roots don't look ugly.

"pretty," taehyung repeats with a hiss. "pretty pretty pretty. i'm never anything else to you, am i? not hot, not sexy, just this fucking pretty. even when your dick's in me, that's all i get?"

you scoff. you'd roll your eyes, but doing so means you'd have to tear your gaze off of his ass rippling off your thighs. your palm cracks against his ass and he jerks, his cry like a snap of a whip. you massage the reddening skin absently. "you know you're both of those things. me saying them doesn't matter. shit—" your head falls back to the couch backrest as he clamps down around you, tight as as vice. "you're shaking. like getting spanked, do you, naughty thing?"

"sh-shut up," he growls, his breathy grunts and moans like melted chocolate, heavy over your senses. his lashes flutter as he drops his hips, slowing to lazily grind into you so he can remember how to breathe and to fully appreciate how fucking deep your cock reaches. "oh, god..."

to your credit, you oblige, though he knows the smirk on your face isn't going anywhere. your hands print bruises in their shape on his hips and the pain of your nails digging into his skin makes his cock throb with the shudder zinging up his spine.

he's close. so fucking close.

your phone rings.

taehyung's eyes snap open. that's a different ringtone to your default.

"ignore it," you groan, the impatience in your voice turning to annoyance as taehyung both dismisses you and leans over to pick it up from the side table. "taehyung, damn it—"

"hey, babe," jimin croons from the other side. "i'm lonely. i miss you."

you can't get a single word out before taehyung's brow knits and he grunts, "he doesn't miss you, though."

only silence filters through the phone, and taehyung's heart leaps with the joy of a victory. finally. he's lost enough to the bitch who sidelined him in the first place.

"taehyung, fuck, hang up." your hands push and pull loosely at his still hips, and when he doesn't budge, you try bucking up into him. he clenches around you and glances over his shoulder in warning, settling his entire weight on your lap to pin you down. you hiss as his heat swallows you to the hilt. "taehyung!"

taehyung turns his attention back to the phone pressed against his ear. he won't give you the satisfaction of hearing jimin's voice. "give up. you're temporary, meat to chew up and spit out. there's a reason he never hangs out with you outside of a quick fuck, you know – you've got nothing to show except your money and your ass. you're not good enough for him."

"and you are?" jimin retorts, his voice cold and sharp even as taehyung slams his hips down on your cock and moans directly into the receiver. "at least i could pay for our dates with my own money, give him everything he could ever want. you? you'd give him a single twelve-dollar rose and a blowjob, hoping he won't look too closely at how you can't even afford the touch-ups for your hair. you're pretty but held upright by bluffs and hot air."

high on the heat of your body, taehyung only lets out a breathy laugh, punctuated by a moan as your cock thrusts into him. "you think i'm bluffing? who's the one cold and lonely, and who's got him for company? oh, fuck yes—!"

"you might have him now, but i have him when it matters. people know he likes me because i can show him off in public. everyone thinks he hates you with how much he complains about you and your shitty habits," he sneers on the other side. "sure, he might only like me for my ass, but how is it any different with you? he's not dating either of us, and i'm the one he puts on his arm. sorry, honey, but i don't think you're as much of a winner as you think you are."

he hangs up immediately, and taehyung lowers the phone. he glares at the pixels spelling out his name. he tosses it aside with a huff, leaning back and bracing against your body to ride you faster, harder. your groans are music to his ears.

"shit, taehyung, slow down – gonna snap my fuckin' cock in half like that," you grunt, the squelch of lube and cum stirring arousal deep in your gut.

"gonna make you lose your mind," he purrs, "make you forget all about that other bitch. there's gonna be a time, y'know, when you have to choose. i'm showing you why you'd do well to pick me."

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

Burnin' On - Firefighter!Chris x Reader (2 am)

A/N: Okay it was no secret that I absolutely love these two and I couldn't stop writing them! So here's the extensions series! There's no real over-arching plot, just interconnected one-shots as and when I think of them! This will contain spoilers to the original series so go check that out of you haven't already

Summary: After a very long day you return home surprised to find Chris had waited for you

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Fluff!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​​

Meet the Characters!

Burnin' Up Masterlist / Series Masterlist / Masterlist

2 am

Your eyelids felt heavy as you finally pulled up outside the house. You let out a long sigh as you dragged your hands down your face before glancing at the time. 

It was well past 2 am.

Glancing back up at the house you could see no lights were on. You had texted Chris the code to tell him it was going to be a late one so he no doubt had gone to bed hours ago. There was nothing you wanted more than to climb into bed and snuggle up next to him, if Dodger had left you any space that is. 

Even though you were exhausted you remained sat in your car for another couple of minutes just gathering the energy to move. It had been an exhausting day, not just physically but emotionally too.

Eventually, you did manage to bring yourself to climb out of the car and head inside. You made sure you were as quiet as possible as you closed the door, took off your shoes and jacket. You didn’t want to accidentally wake Chris. 

Even though you didn’t have much of an appetite you knew you needed to have something to eat. The last proper meal you had was lunch and that was over twelve hours ago. You also knew you’d just wake up hungry again in a couple hours if you didn’t and you really wanted to sleep for hours after today.

Walking into the living room you flicked on the light only to be startled by Chris startling awake from his spot on the couch. You clutched your chest as you tried to get your breathing back under control.

“Chris what the hell? You scared the shit out of me!” You complained as your heart rate finally returned to normal.

“Sorry,” he said rubbing the sleep from his eyes “I didn’t mean to scare you, or fall asleep, I was trying to stay awake until you got home” he explained.

“Why? I texted to say I’d be home late so you didn’t need to stay up” you told him, pulling out your phone to double-check you’d actually sent the code.

“I know” Chris said pushing himself up from the couch and walking over to you “I also knew tonight was gonna be a hard night and I didn’t like the idea of you getting home and being alone” he explained placing his hands on your arms.

You instantly softened hearing his reason, stepping into his embrace, burying your head in his chest as you let out a shaky breath. Chris instantly wrapped his arm around you pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked softly, rubbing your soothingly.

“Not yet, I think I’m still processing it all, I just wanna sleep but I should eat first” you sighed pulling away enough to look up at him.

“Okay, I saved you a plate so I’ll go warm it up, make yourself comfortable” Chris smiled softly, nodding to the couch. 

“Not too comfortable otherwise I’ll be asleep before you even get into the kitchen” you pointed out. 

Chris lets out a small snort of laughter “Okay make yourself uncomfortable” he chuckled.

You give him a tired smile as you sit down on the couch, sitting on the edge as you knew that if you sat too far back sleep would be too inviting. Thankfully it wasn’t long until Chris returned with a plateful of food for you, and a smaller plate for himself. 

The two of you sat in comfortable silence as you ate. Once you were finished you set your plate down on the coffee table and let out a long sigh.

“We found the body,” you told Chris.

You heard him let out a long sigh as he put his hand on the small of your back. He didn’t say anything though, he knew to just give you time to talk it all through.

“We still have to confirm it's her because there was a lot of decay but she was in the exact spot he said she was” You continued rubbing your hand over your forehead “I just… I feel so sorry for the families…. Both of them… one lost their daughter and the other has just found out their son isn’t who they thought he was” 

Chris let out another sigh as he shifted closer to you, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you closer into his side. He knew exactly where your mind was going, it hadn’t been that long since you found out your own father wasn’t who you thought he was.

You let out a shuddering sigh as you wiped away the stray tears that fell “Sorry” you muttered.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Chris said shaking his head “You have nothing to apologise for”

“I shouldn’t be thinking of him though” you pointed out looking up at him.

“It's okay, it’s natural and you always will it’ll just be easier to move on” Chris reassured you “And I know it sucks and it hurts but it means you understand what they’re going through and feeling and you’ll be able to provide them the correct support”

You sighed nodding your head “Yeah you’re right, thank you” you say looking up at him.

Chris gave you a soft smile “It’s nothing, now let's get you up to bed, you deserve it” he said as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I don’t think I have the energy to stand” you admitted making Chris chuckle.

“Don’t you worry about that” he said with a lopsided smile before he stood up, hooked his arms around you and lifted you into his arms.

You let out a squeak of surprise before quickly snuggling into his arms. You smiled up at him forever grateful that you had him in your life to look after you after tough shifts, providing you a safe space that you never had before. He hadn’t even made it all the way upstairs before you fell asleep in his arms.

Sharing is caring so please reblog if you enjoyed this and maybe even leave a comment to make my day!

This series has no schedule, please don’t ask when it will be updated!

Burnin' Up Masterlist / Series Masterlist / Masterlist

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[laiiaaa]

SEEMS PROMISING — MATSUKAWA ISSEI

summary: New to Japan, a friend drags you to a party. A bad one. You find an elusive yet alluring stranger outside.

contains: mentions of alcohol, Mattsun smoking cigs because I said so, Mattsun being a flirty little shit but you love it, just read it and find out

length: 3.6k

note: The affinity for mysterious, cig-smoking men with dark hair is real.

You press open the door, head pounding, and relish in the cool breeze that hits you as you slide it shut again. “Jesus Chri—oh, sorry,” you cut yourself off, embarrassed to see someone standing out on the balcony before you, off to the side and out of view from the door. What you thought was going to be a nice, peaceful fifteen minutes of solitude has morphed into yet another forcible—and probably unpleasant—interaction.

Leaning on the railing facing the cityscape before you, he looks over his shoulder dismissively. “You’re fine. Felt the same way coming out here.” He turns back around and you almost thank him for being so averse to the attitude inside the apartment: loud, drunk, far too inquisitive if not prying.

You want to ask when he came out here, because even after all the introductions Hajime orchestrated, you don’t think you caught this one’s name. And surely you would’ve seen him among the crowd—he’s noticeably tall, got luscious black curls atop his head, and doesn’t seem the type to talk your ear off. You make a mental note to tell your friends about him, even if his name never makes its way to you.

From his place a few feet away, he reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket—corduroy, probably cataloged as ‘saddle brown’ online—and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He gestures with the box, asking, “Is it okay if I…?”

“Hm?” You turn to face him again. “Oh, yeah. Don’t worry, I won’t be out here too long.” 

You’re not sure whether your comment offended him until he gives you that smirk, barely there yet enticing, almost smug with himself. He plucks one from the pack and lifts it to his lips, the metallic flick of his lighter cutting into his muffled motions. You watch carefully as he inhales and exhales, white clouds billowing from his lips and dissipating in the wind.

He takes it between his index and middle finger, leaning his forearms into the railing again before sparing you another glance, longer, more careful this time. “You know a lot of people in there?” 

“A few,” you respond, “More, now that a friend introduced me. Definitely not as many as…what’s his name? The blonde one?”

His smirk almost curls into a smile. “Atsumu?” Another puff of smoke.

“Yeah, that one—he’s a little…”

“Little bit much?”

You give him a smile, and he can’t quite tell whether it’s the city lights in the view, or the two drinks he had before coming out here to clear his head, or if it’s just you, but he’s starting to think he’s glad he came to this little gathering, as stupid as it sounded twelve hours ago.

There’s a party inside, you know that much, but as for the reason for the get together, or even the name of the host, you’re not sure. Hajime only provided you with knowing he knows these people, and that it’d give you the chance to meet some now that you’re in Japan. What you didn’t expect was the volume, or the crowd, or the pack-like nature of the people there: they all seem to know each other one way or the other, and you could feel it.

You wouldn’t even say it was overwhelming, the number of people—no, there couldn’t have been more than thirty—but the feeling of being unknown, the other, was. You need to clear your head, get some fresh air. You’re not sure if anyone inside has noticed your absence. 

You inch a little closer to the mysterious figure. “Something like that. Are you friends?”

“With Atsumu?” Something in his brows tell you that you’re not even close. “Funny. I know him from high school—played volleyball against him—but that’s as far as that goes.”

Volleyball, you think, That’s the connection? Who would’ve thought. “Ah,” you hum. “So you came to this because…?”

“You meet Iwaizumi yet? He convinced me.” He takes another drag as he gazes over the city. “Somehow.”

Your image of the man lightens at the fact he knows your only friend here, and a soft smile takes your lips. “Hajime did?”

Hajime. So, they’re close, he thinks. “Yeah, we went to the same school, played together, the works.” Could she be…? “He’s a pretty good guy, eh?”

“Yeah…yeah, he is.” You can’t tell what he’s getting at, if anything, and you make another mental note: if you don’t get anything else out of this man, you will be bugging Hajime about him.

“I’m Matsukawa, by the way. Most people just call me Mattsun.” When you give him your name in return, he thinks he could be winning. “Oh?”

You hesitate. “What, something wrong with it?”

“No, don’t worry.” He gives you a once over, and stands fully upright, facing you with one hand still on the railing. You think he’s putting too much faith in the strength of it. Maybe he’s a little more fearless, a little more reckless, than you’re used to. “Hajime’s mentioned you, is all.” He flicks away ash.

“Oh. Why’d you have to make it sound like a bad thing?”

He shrugs. “Didn’t mean to. He speaks highly of you.” You can almost see that smile of his behind plumes of tobacco.

“Really? What’s he say about me?”

“Well…that you’re smart, for one, though I can’t say I can agree with that yet.”

“Yet?”

“Yet.” He flashes a smirk again. “He says you’re funny, too. Again, not too sure about that one, but it seems promising.”

You lend him a blank stare. “Thanks.”

He wants to kick himself for chuckling at that—how could he let his advantage slip so soon? “See, you’re already on the right track.”

“Hm, nice to see you laugh a bit.” And that smile. You tug your jacket tighter around you, not wanting to sacrifice this seemingly meaningless interaction for the sake of the warmth you know is inside. “So, you find out anything else about me from Haji? Or just the basics?”

Ah, so now she’s calling him Haji. There’s a lot he’s kept from me. Hm. “Well, there’s also the fact that you’re very pretty.” He lifts his hand back to his mouth. He’s getting antsy, talking to you, and he’s not used to it. 

Your brow furrows, and you consider calling Hajime out here to speak to him yourself. “Haji’s been telling people I’m pretty?” Very very handsome people, you add, internally, but this Matsukawa—Mattsun—doesn’t need that much…yet.

“Nope,” he answers. “Just an observation on my part.”

You cock your head to the side. “…Are you flirting with me?”

He drops his cigarette to the ground and presses it out with his shoe, barely considering whether he’s even allowed to smoke here before bringing his attention back to you. “Would it be more effective if I said yes?”

A laugh escapes you—pity or incredulity, you’re not sure. “Hm, I’m not too sure about that one yet.” You sigh with your lips curving against your will, your cheeks aching with mischief and the thought that maybe it was a good thing to show up. “But I guess it seems promising.”

Mattsun’s smile turns big enough to see teeth this time and he thinks he could be falling in love with you—or maybe he’s just starting to go crazy at the thought of you taking his bit like that, as if everything he has is yours to know and take. It lights a smug fire in your chest that you’ve left him speechless, watching him exhale a sigh through his nose with pink cheeks (from the cold or your quips, who knows?) as he opts to lean on the railing again. 

“He’s never mentioned you, you know,” you start, walking right up next to him, turning what was a few feet into mere inches with your elbows on the cold, hard metal. 

Your heart races a little faster now, with the whole city right in front of you and your center of gravity leaning a little too close to the ledge for comfort. The two of you could die right now, would the railing give way, but maybe that’s the fun of it for him. Maybe this Mattsun is pretty interesting after all.

“Hajime, you mean?”

“Yeah, it’s not fair, you know things about me, and I know nothing about you.”

“There isn’t much to know.” He shrugs again, splaying his hands out for emphasis. 

“Well, you smoke.”

“Yep.”

“You wear a nice corduroy jacket.”

He whips his head in your direction. “You like my jacket?”

You nod earnestly. “Yeah, it looks good on you.”

“Thanks,” he says, biting his tongue to keep from saying more, because he has a feeling that with you, the blush rising to his cheeks will get him into trouble. 

“No problem,” you chirp back, heading back to business. “You…used to play volleyball. Used to, right?”

He turns back to facing the city. “Used to.”

“Okay, that’s three things.”

He claps his hands together. “Great, now we’re even.”

“Come on,” you whine. He’s gonna be so much trouble, you think, with the way you’re dying for more. “Can’t we trade?”

“You want to trade information?”

“Yeah, why not? You’re very mysterious, there’s gotta be something to you, no?”

“Is this a free range kinda thing, or are we asking questions?” Mattsun is a bit of a risk taker, a tad impulsive. And maybe a bit too satisfied to have a pretty girl’s attention.

“Hmm…questions. You first, it’s only fair.”

“Alright,” he huffs, struggling to hide the fact that he’s slipping right into your hands. He stares up at the sky for a moment, considering the weight of his question. “How do you know Hajime?”

“Jealous, are we?” And part of you is hoping he is. “We met in college…sophomore year, I think? Neither one of us were from America, so we just kinda clicked. He was doing his sports medicine thing, and at the time I didn’t really know what I was doing yet, and he helped me out a lot. Anyway, we thought we’d never see each other after graduation, but then I got an internship here, so…here we are, I guess. Haven’t been here long, though, only a month or so.”

He doesn’t hesitate or give it a second thought before asking, “How long are you staying?”

You smile. “No follow up questions. I gave you more than you asked, too, so now it’s my turn.”

He waits patiently, contently, wondering what he should ask you next, but you came prepared for this battle. 

“What’s your favorite song, and why?”

“That’s two questions.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He wonders what he did to deserve this: a beautiful, snarky girl like you, asking stupid questions about someone you don’t even know and aren’t obligated to. 

“I’ve never really had to think about it.” 

“Okay, then think about it now.”

He pauses. So demanding, this one, she’s gonna hurt. He ponders it almost too long for your liking. “Eight Miles High, I think, by The Byrds? My dad used to play it all the time.” He pauses again, smiling, and he wonders again about how he even ended up here, talking to you, with you smiling back at him as he explains, “He was born in Japan, but lived in Los Angeles for a while in his twenties, and he liked them a lot—said that nothing could compare to The Byrds playing through open windows cruising down the highway, so he kept a bunch of their CDs and played them for me when I was little. There’s nothing special about that song in particular, I just like the sound, heard it a lot, fits what I picture my dad was like, in a way.”

He’s cute, you think, under all that dark and gloom, he’s cute, and sentimental. “I like that answer,” you add. “Sounds pretty damn special.”

“Might be.” He shrugs and brushes aside the care you gave, listening to him. “Fuck, I need another cigarette,” he hisses, letting his head fall.

“If you do, I’ll go inside,” you say, not sure if it’s the threat you’re meaning it to be as much as it’s a plea for him to stay with you. 

“Hm, don’t threaten me with a good time.” Yet he makes no move for his jacket. “I guess that’s the fifth thing I know about you, then.”

“And what would that be?”

“That smoking’s a no-go?”

If you knew better you might wonder why he’d care. “It’s not that,” you reassure, “I mean, I was in California for four years, traveled a bunch, so I don’t mind the smell. I think it’s the idea of addiction that scares me.” Your confession hangs in the open air. “You can add that to the list instead.”

Mattsun takes his time to respond, considers whether he should at all. He observes you from the side: the pout of your near frown, the white of your teeth when you chew at your bottom lip, the crease between your brows when you face him and say it’s his turn again.

And he keeps his eyes on you when he tells you, “I’ve never kissed someone.” And before you can ask him Why? only for him to tell you There’s no follow up questions, and before he can ask himself What the fuck am I saying to this girl I barely know?, he tells you, “I mean, I’ve kissed people, obviously, but not for any reason that’s particularly romantic. Just sex, and…everything adjacent to it.”

You chew on his words for a moment and he thinks he could throw up.

“You can add that to the list now,” he adds, filling the silence.

He feels a lot closer to you now, physically, with your shoulders and hips almost joining together and your noses no more than six inches apart when you face each other. You still want to ask him Why? even though you’re sure he’ll snap the moratorium on follow up questions back on you. Maybe confessions like this tie a rope around two people and tug. 

“I don’t think I have either.” Absentmindedly, you lift two fingers to your lips. “It’s funny that you mention it.”

“Why?”

“To the first part, or the second?”

“The first.”

“I don’t know.” You turn to look at him again and he’s already waiting halfway. “I mean, I’ve had a boyfriend before, kind of, but it was never really…”

“Romantic?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, “He was a dick.”

“That sucks.”

“Thanks. How about you?”

“I fucked around a bit in years past. Didn’t really settle or do relationships or anything romantic.”

“I’m sorry.” Yet all you can think about is how you’re sinking deeper into this pit, a boy who doesn’t do relationships.

“It’s alright.”

“Things can always change, you know.” You look back at him, not knowing whether the comment was for his reassurance or your own, and something has changed in the way he looks at you. He isn’t looking just to look anymore, but to listen, as if he can read something from your expression. 

“You think so?” he asks, a hopeful lilt in his voice. He doubts whether he really knows himself.

You can't seem to peel your eyes away from his when you only hum a confirmation. Breaths exchanged between you turn white in the cold nighttime air, and you draw closer together for warmth, noses almost touching. Something in your gut tells you this isn’t normal, to be this close, and something in the back of his mind tells him that he’s more than okay with it.

He smiles something different, something of admiration instead of mirth. “This got very personal.”

“It did.” You look at his lips.

“I don’t even know you.”

“No, but you could.”

He smiles back at you, his eyes trailing to your lips in turn. “I could.”

“And it’s helping me make your list, so it’s okay.”

“This is true,” he agrees, “Though I’m a little nervous to ask what you’ve been extrapolating.”

“We can debrief another day, if you’d like.”

He tilts his head, just barely, and each breath into your lungs feels like another pull at his lips to reel him in. “Who said I’m ever going to see you again?”

Your eyes dance between his lips, curled in a way you crave to taste, and his eyes, glazed over with what can only be called desire. “I did, just now.” You give in to his movements closing the marginal gap between you, a hair’s breadth from what you’ve been pining for.

“I know I didn’t say this before, but you can call me Issei,” he murmurs against your lips. 

“I thought you said most people call you Mattsun?” 

“That I did.”

“Am I not most people, then?” You smirk and you think you’ve caught him.

“Hmm…” he starts, bringing a hand to brush up the column of your neck, grasping your jaw in his hand ever so gently, his thumb pressing to your bottom lip. “Not too sure about that yet.” 

He only lasts, mesmerized, a second longer before he presses his lips to yours. He keeps his kisses short, and he keeps them sweet, and you make the third mental note of the night to search whether nicotine can be transferred through kisses because fuck, something about his smile-ridden lips have you hooked.

You loop your arms around his neck while he looms over you and snakes his free hand from your waist up your back, holding your body oh so close to his that when he nips at your bottom lip you swear your knees start to buckle. It’s innocent, the way Mattsun kisses you, like he’s hungry for nothing more than this—the two of you, on someone’s balcony, asking questions that may very well mean nothing by the next year, kisses for cushioning. 

He slips his tongue past your lips, gently, teasing, and you think this is what it feels like to really kiss someone. He wonders if dying right now would really be all that bad if it means having your mouth be the last thing he tastes, your face the last thing he touches.

Until you hear the sound of someone’s “Oh” and you both turn to look where it came from. Your fingertips are still grazing the hair at the nape of Mattsun’s neck, his lips now at your jaw for you’ve turned your head to see the door. He can smell your perfume on your neck and he has to fight the urge to kiss you again.

Hajime stands at the door, eyebrows raised with one foot on the balcony and the other still inside. “Am I interrupting something?”

You pull away from Mattsun’s hands with reluctance, and he tries, hard as he might, to wear his calm demeanor again, itching to have the weight of you tugging on him. 

“Nope,” you snip, missing Mattsun’s warmth a little more than you’d like to admit. “What’s up?”

“We’re…” His eyes catch Mattsun’s foot tapping away and your hands fiddling with the railing, Mattsun’s messy hair and your glistening lips. “We’re singing and doing cake now, thought you might wanna join.”

“We’ll be there in a second,” Mattsun says. Is there even a ‘we’?

The two of you stand still, anxiously, as Hajime gives a very brief goodbye—scary, even, he’s so unphased—as he walks away, leaving the door ajar for you to follow.

You turn to Mattsun, almost pleading. “You think he’s gonna say anything?”

“I don’t know, actually.” He runs a hand through his hair and lets his arms fall to his sides. “I don’t think he’d be dying to tell anyone. We should probably go in there, though. Probably the good person thing to do for their birthday.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “Probably.” 

You toy with his fingers as he shifts much closer to you again, inches away without either one of you thinking about it. You reach up to his head and he bends down for you, waiting patiently for the strands mussed by your doing to be returned to their rightful place. 

“Can’t be giving anyone clues just yet, hm?” you hum, one hand in his hair and the other just barely holding his chin.

Mattsun smiles when you punctuate the question with a peck to his cheek. He doesn’t quite hold your hand, and neither of you know if he even should, but he trails behind you back into the apartment regardless, back into the bustle of the crowd. His fingertips thrum with something he’s never felt. He could follow you like this all night if only you’d let him.

“Hey, Issei?” you ask, pulling him to come a little closer. It’s been less than a minute, and your head is already aching again, your eyes tired.

His ears perk up at the name, and his chest presses lightly into your back before he leans down to hear you better. “Yeah?”

You turn your head towards his without taking your eyes off the crowd in the room ahead, navigating through a place still completely unknown to you. You stop at the doorway, still hidden away from the rest of the group. “Is it really someone’s birthday?” 

Issei laughs, heartily for the first time this week, and basks in the way you glow in the mellow light of the party, smiling back at him, sheepishly hitting him while defending yourself in a whisper, “What? I don’t know these people—!” He thinks this—whatever it is, having his hand nearly intertwined with yours, your shoulder blades pushing into his chest, Hajime’s subtle smile and nod of respect from across the room—sure is something.

And he thinks it seems awfully promising.

[tgmsunmontue]

Online & Anonymous 10/16

Hangster. Explicit. Years before they meet in person Bradley and Jake strike up a friends-with-benefits relationship online. And then something more like an actual relationship.

Odd year = Bradley's POV and Even year = Jake's POV

>>Bradley chatting (bold and italics)

>>Jake chatting (italics)

2005/2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2014

2015 – Bradley

                He doesn’t have the location feature in Grindr turned on by default. He can’t and won’t pick up while he’s deployed, not considering the fact that they have all sort of security hoops and communication blackouts, the location hasn’t ever been important. Except when he’s on leave and he’s looking at it now and Jas is in the same state as him. Not close by any means, but holy shit he’ll travel if he has to. Jas is meant to be deployed, however Texas is a huge state, and Jas has no reason to lie about being deployed. Unless their luck has changed, and Jas is somehow on leave and they’re in the same state. There’s a chance that Jas is on base, and if that’s the case it rules out the Marines and Coast Guard, but not Army, Navy or Air Force.

                He wonders if it’s even possible for them to meet. He would totally fly a couple of hours to finally meet Jas.

>>Not to creep on you, but I can see you’re in Texas.

>>You here long?

>>You have got to be fucking kidding me.

>>What?

>>I’m here for two days. Just here to attend my grandma’s funeral.

>>And avoid my family as much as possible.

>>Okay. Not exactly ideal meeting conditions.

>>Fuck.

>>I’m almost tempted to just ditch the funeral.

>>But I can’t.

>>Of course not.

>>God I hate this entire state.

>>Special leave to attend.

>>Turn around is tight.

>>I’m sorry for your loss.

                Bradley isn’t sure what else to say, because he hadn’t even realized that Jas spoke to any of his family members, had left them all behind when he joined up whatever service it is he’s in. 

>>Thanks. She was the last decent family member I had.

>>Not that I was the best grandson.

>>Another thing to feel shitty and guilty about I guess.

>>But I don’t think I’ll be coming back here unless it’s for work.

…            …            …

                He studies his calendar and the dates Jas has sent through of when he’s on leave. There’s not more than twenty-four hours of overlap with his own leave and he gets that people come and go and in a twelve-month period it’s fine, however this has been going on for several years now. The world feels like it’s going crazy and he doesn’t know if it actually is, or if he’s just paying more attention now, as he gets older and aware how world events will impact where he might be sent next. Where Jas might be sent next.

                Massacres.

                Shootings.

                Coups.

                Wars.

                Foreign airstrikes.

                And that’s just the first two months of the year. God, no wonder they can’t seem to catch a break. He scrolls back up to the pictures Jas had sent through last night and studies the tan lines, wonders where he might be to develop them. It’s not a comms blackout, but it’s close. They’re time zones apart now and it makes him regret not appreciating all the times when they were only hours apart.

                “Is that your guy?”

                “Jesus Christ! Natasha!” Bradley presses his phone to his chest and squirms away from where she’s trying to sit on his thighs in an attempt to pin him.

                “I mean, I’d be distracted too if someone sent me pictures like that. Maybe worth the money you paid for that ridiculous phone,” she says, poking him in the thigh.

                “He’s not my guy. Just… okay. Yeah. I guess it is my guy. He’s also a friend. He doesn’t need you drooling over him.”

                “A friend you have pretty regular sex with… And I’m sure you drool over him enough for the both of us.”

                “Yeah. But we’ve never met and it feels like we’re never going to. And we don’t even know each other’s names. It’s not a romance for the ages.”

                “And yet you admitted it’s one of your most important relationships. And not just because of the sex. That does sound pretty romantic to me.”

                “This is why people think we’re sleeping together, all you talk about is sex.”

                “I just said it was romantic! But I talk about sex because it winds you up.”

                Bradley groans.

                “Is it phone sex, when your still just sending messages? Isn’t phone sex when you’re actually on the phone with each other? Have you tried that? Does he have an accent?”

                “Why are you so interested?” Bradley replies, because he’s wondering now, and he hadn’t really thought about it before and he’s annoyed at himself. Wonders if they could talk on the phone, hear each other’s voices. Wonders if Jas has an accent, because he is Texan.

                “Because I’m bored.”

                “What do I have to do to make you leave me alone?”

                “There’s nothing you can do. You need to entertain me. Can I talk to your friend?”

                “No!”

                “I could find him and talk to him. You’ve given me enough details to find him I think…”

                “Why would you want to do that?”

                “The entertainment value alone would make it worth it.”

                He rolls his eyes but pulls a deck of cards from his pocket, because while he doesn’t think she would go through with it he also wouldn’t be entirely surprised if she did.

…            …            …

                His next deployment once again finds him on a carrier with Jake Seresin. Carriers are huge, there are thousands of people on board and yet Seresin seems to be there every time he turns around. Fortunately Seresin’s squadron are meant to leave in two months so at least that’s only one-third of his deployment he has to suffer through, and another squadron is cycling through in one-month, so between them he can at least try and avoid him. It works better in theory than in practice. Their downtime in the rec room nearly always seems to coincide and he’s not really listening to what the others are talking about until he hears Seresin mention going home to Texas.

                “You’re Texan?” Bradley asks, eyes shooting up to meet his and Seresin raises an eyebrow.

                “Born and bred. How did you miss that fact Rooster? It’s not like you haven’t heard my gorgeous dulcet tones.”

                “I guess I just never thought of it before, about where you’re from.”

                He doesn’t mean it as an insult, he just really hadn’t thought about it, because he was in Corpus Christi where everyone seemed to sound Texan. And Seresin sometimes doesn’t sound as Texan as he does right now. He’s pretty sure that’s the case anyway.

                “Proud Texan through and through, go back every chance I get.”

                “Of course you do.”

…            …            …           

                Bambi arrives like a breath of fresh air with five others, and he grabs her and swings her around and then brings her in for a tight hug.

                “God it’s good to see you.”

                “Good to see you too BB!”

                “Congrats on the promotion.”

                “Yeah, now you can stop being an asshole about it.”

                “Only with you. And Natasha.”

                “Yeah yeah. It really is good to see you. Come on, think we can get a party started up in here and do some dancing?”

                “I’m certain you can achieve anything you want.”

                “And don’t you forget it! You can play the piano for me later!”

                “As you wish…” Bradley says, and she cackles madly and he grins, glad that she’s here.

…            …            …

                Things get a lot less fun for a while, they’re in the air dropping bombs, patrolling airspace and this is what he’s trained for, years of training paying off, and it’s necessary, and he loves flying, and when it comes down to an enemy plane or Seresin being shot down he’s glad that Seresin made the shot. As much as he might find him arrogant and annoying he doesn’t want him dead. He does wish the guy would learn a little humility though, and he definitely snaps when he hears him re-telling the kill.

                “Judge, jury and executioner… You’re just a modern-day hangman now aren’t you?”

                The nickname of Hangman sticks to him, and he can tell it grates him a little, but then he starts leaning into it and somehow becomes even more arrogant and Bradley didn’t think it was possible but he’s been wrong before. Two weeks later Seresin and the rest of his squadron leave and he lets out a mental sigh of relief.

                Four months to go.

…            …            …

>>You ever kill anyone?

>>No.

>>You okay?

>>Probably not. Good enough to fake it.

>>You shouldn’t have to fake it.

>>I’m assuming this isn’t a hypothetical?

>>No. Not hypothetical.

>>I’ve probably been responsible for people dying before.

>>Just never seen faces before.

>>I’m having nightmares.

>>Shit. I’m sorry. Wish I could give you a hug.

>>Thanks. I’ve got J helping me out.

>>They aren’t going to keep me down.

>>I’ll be fine.

>>Jas. Take some time. Talk to someone.

>>And say what?

>>I throw up every time I think about it too much?

>>It’s okay to feel upset about it.

>>Yeah? Then why is everyone congratulating me like what I did was a good thing?

>>War on terror… fucking hell.

>>You’re on leave right now right?

>>Go and get laid?

>>If I could be guaranteed a good lay, I would take that advice.

>>You know what I feel like?

>>What?

>>Just… pinned down and fucked until I can’t think about anything except how I’m feeling physically. Nothing in my head.

>>I mentioned once about tying you up… would you let me?

>>Yeah. Of course.

>>No. Not of course. We can talk about anything and everything, but actually doing it is another matter.

>>You know what I want the most?

>>What?

>>Giving you what you need.

>>If that’s tying you to a bed that’s all well and good, but I can pin you with my body, hold you down while I just rub against you. Get you hard and desperate for it, just rubbing up against each other like horny teenagers.

>>Would be an interesting experiment to try out.

>>Yeah, especially if I was already stretched and lubed up, that potential for more just there on the edge for both of us…

>>But you’d have to figure out how to keep me pinned and get you dick in me.

>>God you’ve gotten so good at this.

>>All the practice with you baby.

…            …            …

                He’s back in a squadron with Natasha and for the first time also Hangman, and it’s a learning curve and a half because he remember Seresin and how he was at Top Gun a few years ago. He seems to have embraced the title of the only naval aviator in active duty to have an air to air kill, and all it does is make him wonder what has happened to Maverick, because surely he’s still active. The idea that he might have died and he wouldn’t know about it scares him, so he sends a carefully worded email to Ice and asks about them both. The response he gets back isn’t overly open or encouraging, but it is still a response and Bradley takes it as the small stepping stone it is. He’s still angry, but not angry enough to not want to know that Mav is alive and well. Ice too. It’s been over fifteen years and what he really wants now is answers. So he sends another email back, shares a funny story about something that happened and hopes for the best.

…            …            …

                “Every turn he assumes I think the worst of him.”

                “Don’t you?”

                “No! He’s an asshole, but I think he maybe uses that to cover up stuff.”

                “Hmm. Deep.”

                “Shut up,” Bradley mutters.

                “Maybe the two of you have more in common than you think.”

                Bradley looks at her sharply.

                “What do you mean by that?”

                “I can’t say. Just… keep an open mind I guess?”

                “Oh my god Nat. I don’t need an open mind,” Bradley says with an eye roll, putting sarcastic quotation marks in the air when he says open mind. “He made a pass at me.”

                “Oh, so you know he’s gay.”

                “And so do you…” Bradley observes.

                “Yeah well, best friend privilege I guess? I haven’t said anything about you though. Other than you being in a long-distance relationship.”

                “Oh, great, thanks for that.”

                “What?”

                “If I go and hook up people are going to think I’m cheating.”

                “Oh. Sorry. Didn’t think about that. Wait, how long have you known Seresin’s gay?”

                “Uh. Few years. When I was at Top Gun for the year.”

                “When you spent a large chunk of time bitching to me about how annoying he was?”

                “He asked me out for a drink after that. After most of that…”

                “Did he?! Really?” Natasha sits up and leans forward, eyes wide and excited.

                “I turned him down obviously.”

                “Why obviously?”

                “I was sort of an instructor at the time. Didn’t want a reputation of sleeping with people anymore than I want one as a cheater,” he says, poking his toes into her thigh in annoyance, although all she does back is pinch the delicate skin of his ankle and he yelps in pain.

                “So… you haven’t slept with him.”

                “Nope.”

                “Thinking about it now though right?”

                He groans and she laughs. It’s annoying because they both know she’s right.

…            …            …

                It wasn’t him. That’s the only thing he can think of when he hears the news. Who ever it was got the target wrong and hit a hospital. He hears all the talk about collateral damage but he still thinks he’s going to be sick. He didn’t sign up to kill injured people and doctors. He sends another email to Ice, wonders if he’ll have any magical words that will help him sleep at night.

…            …            …

                It hits him over dinner one night that Seresin’s first name is Jake. He has the same initials as Jas, is maybe born the same year and is also from Texas. That’s quite a few coincidences. He starts paying a little more attention. He knows Natasha thinks it’s because he wants to maybe fuck him, and okay, she’s not wrong, but it’s not the only reason he’s looking. Then he hears Hangman on the phone talking to someone, his sister he tells Natasha later when she asks (at Bradley’s not so gentle request). It’s that that makes him realize that’s all they are; coincidences. Jas doesn’t talk to his family and hates Texas, Seresin is the opposite. Seems about right.

…            …            …

>>How are you going?

>>Good. Didn’t need to vomit when a nightmare woke me up this time.

>>That’s what I call winning.

>>You and I have very different definitions of winning.

                Bradley walks into the rec room and Hangman is there on his phone, thumbs flying over the screen and he wonders who he’s talking to. He looks happy, clearly not as troubled as Jas is feeling, and he guesses they’re different people and have very different experiences.

                “Hey Hangman, you okay?”

                “Would you care if I wasn’t?” Hangman says back, and he’s smiling, but his eyes are glinting with a challenge. Bradley shrugs, because he can extend an olive branch, but shoving it down Hangman’s throat pretty much defeats the purpose.

                “I just thought I’d check in on you. Some people… struggle, when they’ve killed someone,” he doesn’t mean for it to sound accusatory, or detached, but they’re not friends. Maybe he should be checking in with Coyote instead, asking him if he thinks Hangman is okay. He’d definitely get a more honest answer, that’s certain.

                “I’m in the wrong profession if that’s something I’d allow to bother me.”

                “Okay. Just thought I’d ask.”

                God, he’s such an asshole.

2016

[sadhours]

Wicked Sensation

part six // billy hargrove x f!reader

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven | part twelve | part thirteen | part fourteen | part fifteen | part sixteen | part seventeen

word count: 5.1k

warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, oral (f recieving), slapping, dirty talk, billy being agressive, steve being too good of a guy, angst, underage drinking

“You can take me,” you tell Steve before he has a chance to say hello.

You’d lied awake for hours after Billy had left last night, thinking about how while at first the idea of going to the dance with Steve as a game to Billy you’ve come to realize that’s exactly what it was, a game to Billy. It hurt that he would use the opportunity to have yet another leg up on Steve in this dumb feud they had going on. And it wasn’t even like Steve would know, it was like Billy wanted to hurt him and play mind games Steve wouldn’t even realize Billy was behind. You thought about calling off the whole plan but decided you deserved to actually have some fun and Steve was very much that. Conversations between you two were as easy as they come. Steve made you laugh and you liked the contrast between his easy going attitude and Billy’s intensity.

“Really?” Steve chirped, “Awesome, so uh, cool, cool, yeah.”

“I’ll pick a red dress,” you interpret his stuttering, hand on his chest because you see Billy out of the corner of your eye and maybe you can play the game to your advantage. “Pick me up at 5 for dinner.”

You wave goodbye, eyes darting back to see Billy with amused wide eyes which he has to mask quickly when Tommy walks up to him. You wonder who Billy’s going to go to the dance with, the idea making your stomach twist in jealousy. Which only worsens when you get to class and hear other girls talking about it. Since he hadn’t been making moved on anyone and was seemingly single they figured it was open season.

“You think he’s going to ask someone? Would it be totally weird to ask him?” you overhear Peggy’s voice and roll your eyes. Of course she’s still pining over him. Then you fall down a rabbit hole of thinking about Billy having sex with these girls. Did he touch them the way he touched you? The sensations were extremely hard to forget, not that you really tried to. Was what you two shared special and saved just for you or did he make all these other women crumble under his touch as well? You’re thinking about it for the rest of the school day, flashes of Billy sweating over top the list of women you know he’s been with.

“Why are you so quiet?” he asks on the ride home. Max has headphones on so you’re tempted to admit the reason you haven’t said a single word to him but it just doesn’t feel like the right moment. The two of you never talked about feelings when the sun was still out.

“Just a weird day,” you explain which isn’t exactly a lie.

“Is it about winter formal? Listen, I’d like to take you but…” He starts.

You interrupt, “It’ll ruin what we have.” You’ve heard him say it a couple times. You’ve told him you understand every time. “That’s not what I’m upset about.”

Billy squeezes your thigh and you picture him doing it to every bitch that’s been in his car so you jerk away. “I’m fine,” you insist and look out the window.

He backs off with a sigh, turning the dial up on his stereo to drown out the bad mood. You don’t say bye when he parks in front of his house, storming in your house and slamming the door behind you. Since the house is empty you scream out, closing your eyes tight when you do so and not giving a shit if Billy could hear it. However, you don’t expect to see your dad and little brother running into the living room.

“Oh,” your cheeks flush, “I thought I was alone.”

Your dad looks even more worried than before, “You okay?”

“I got asked to Winter Formal,” you tell him, tossing your backpack on the ground. “What are you two doing home?”

“Your brother is ‘sick’,” your dad says with air quotes, “Had to leave work early to get him. The neighbor boy ask you?”

“No, Billy didn’t ask me. One of the most popular boys asked me,” you vent to him.

He takes the opportunity, you usually never complained about your love life to him. He grabs a beer from the fridge and offers it to you, “Why didn’t Billy ask you if he’s been sneaking into your room for months?”

“His dad wouldn’t like me,” you admit, opening the beer and guzzling it down. You half expect your dad to scold you but he doesn’t.

“Ya know, I had to work on his dads car the other week… he’s a real dick,” your dad levels with you.

“So I’ve heard.”

“Did you say yes?” he asks, grabbing a beer for himself.

“I… Billy told me to and I do want to go so yes, I said yes. But I don’t want to hurt this guy because I like him but… I like him like I like Eddie,” you spew out.

Your dad sighs, joining you at the kitchen table. “It’s not good to lead people on. I think you oughta tell this fella you just want to be friends.”

You think about your light flirting with Steve earlier that day. It felt good to flirt with him but it’s not like you wanted to break things off with Billy to pursue Steve. “I know,” you sigh, “I just wish things could be different with Billy.”

“Compromise is important. I learned that with your mom. I wished things were different with her but when I look back, I wished I was more patient and compassionate,” your dad reveals and it breaks your heart a bit. You missed your mom but you thought your dad was a good guy and if she couldn’t even bother to check in every once in a while then maybe she was the bad actor.

You have no idea how to talk to your dad about your mom leaving so you just nod, “You’re right…” you sigh and stand up, “I’m gonna go out front for a bit.”

Your dad grins with a nod, “Do what feels right, pumpkin.”

When you’re outside you see Billy taking out the trash, watching as you light your smoke and you raise your beer to him. He shakes his head but he’s smiling before he blows you a kiss. You feel your heart skip a bit, swooning for him easily before he’s back inside. You couldn’t tell your dad about the intimate reasons you were upset. You didn’t bother Eddie with sexual details or problems so that left the problem to talk to it about. Which you weren’t looking forward to but for your sanity you had to ask him.

-

You’re waiting for Billy to call since you’d kind of given him the cold shoulder you expected him to give you space. You glance to your alarm clock and see it’s nearing midnight. If he was gonna call it would have been by now. You sigh and get up, standing in your mirror while you undress. You watch yourself and wonder if anything was different between you and Peggy, underneath it all. Peggy probably wears nighties, you think and without much of a second thought, you’re digging in your closet for the one you own, a Christmas present from your grandma. You hold the hanger in front of you, a simple white slip with a delicate lace along the décolletage. She’d probably wear something like this, you think as you pull it over your naked body.

Knock, knock. Your head snaps towards the window to see Billy looking back at you with a surprised grin on his face. You walk over, unlocking the window before sliding it open.

“I’ve never seen that before,” he says, his mouth hanging open when he’s finished.

“You’re gonna drool,” you shut is jaw with a gentle hand before helping him inside.

Billy shuts the blinds behind him and wraps his arms around your waist, “You expecting me?”

“Oh, god, you would like this,” you roll your eyes and pull away.

Billy grabs your wrist and tilts his head, quizzically, “Am I not supposed to?”

“No!” You exclaim, “It’s not me! You’re not supposed to like it!”

His smile falters and his eyebrows knit together in confusion, “What’s going on?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you suddenly feel exposed and ashamed. Billy’s fingers dance under your elbow and arms. He steps closer, eyes expectant while he waits for you to answer. You’re afraid you’ll start to cry if you open your mouth, looking up at him fearful.

“Baby…” he mutters, “Talk to me.”

His voice is quiet but his eyes on you make the room seem smaller and smaller with each second.

“Am… am I different?”

“Incredibly,” he whispers, “Weirdest person I’ve met.” The smirk on his face isn’t soothing in any way.

“No… like,” you let out a shaky breath. “Do you touch other girls like you touch me?”

Confusion and anger cover his expressions, “What? I haven’t touch-“

“When you did, before me, after we did, I mean have you fucked them like me or is it different?” you interrupt him, finally relieved to get this off your chest.

Billy pauses, unsure of how to answer that question or what exactly it implied. He couldn’t help if he knew how to make women come undone for him. “What are you talking about?”

“Peggy wants to ask you to the dance. You fucked her forever ago and she’s still thinking about you. I can’t fathom the thought of you… I don’t know, Billy.”

“Hey, hey,” he sits you down the bed and gets on his knees between your legs, “it is so different for you and I.”

“You made them feel how you make me feel,” you mutter out, the tears spilling out finally.

“But I’m here with you, I stopped sleeping with other girls, babe. For you. You make me feel better than they ever could,” he says and you can’t believe the words coming from him or how easy it is for him to comfort you. “I don’t care if they still want me, you shouldn’t either. They can’t have me, but you do.”

“But Billy… they still talk about you,” you blubber, palms smearing your tears away as they coat your flushed cheeks.

He sighs then, sitting on his heels. He’s quiet for a second and then he’s taking his dagger earring off and putting it on your ear. You hadn’t even realized he took it back from you. “Have this. Wear it everyday. I know it’s not me screaming from the rooftops that we’re together but it’s what I can do for now,” he’s saying, eyes trained on hours.

The gesture is sweet and calms you down slightly. He laces his fingers in yours and squeezes, “You’re different in the best way. I promise you, it’s different. I actually like you.”

You smile, “You mean it?”

“Lemme show you,” Billy’s bunching your night gown up and his mouth is between your legs. You watch him, licking between your folds and the sensation sends shivers up your spine. Say what they will, they didn’t have Billy like you did.

His fingers snake up your nightgown and graze against your nipple, tongue focused at your opening, sliding into you. Falling onto your back, your fingers grip his curls and pull him closer.

“Billy… feels so good…” you praise, lifting your feet to the edge of the mattress.

“Tastes even better,” he pulls away to mumble and the compliment floors you, pushing his face back.

His tongue broadly licks up your slit, shaking his head to aid when the tip of his tongue is pressed at your clit. Every concern slipping away from his deliberate actions. He’s entering you with two fingers and you feel the pressure building efficiently, tearing you apart expertly.

“I’m.. I’m gonna cum,” you stutter out, thighs clenching around his face and your back arched.

Billy quickens his pace, nodding his head up and down while his fingers twist and curl inside you. When you start to pant, he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks which pushes you over the edge. “Billy!” you gasp, pulling at his hair and thrashing against his face.

“You’re mine,” he says when your faces meet again, tearing the nightie off of you.

“Mine..” you mumble out lazily, your body still on cloud nine.

“Yours,” Billy’s mouthing against your ear, peeling his shirt from his torso. You help him with his shoes and pants even though you’re suddenly exhausted. You want him to have you.

“Say it again,” you whimper, feeling his tip press against your entrance.

“I’m yours,” he says through gritted teeth as he inches inside of you.

“All mine,” you say, drunk on the passion as you wrap your legs around his waist and tug him closer.

Billy bites your bottom lip then, pushing the rest of the way and you feel him fill you up. You moan into his mouth when his fingers curl around your hip, everything falling apart around the two of you. He falters a bit, chuckling softly when he stills.

“Jesus,” he exhales, “I’m already close… give me a minute.”

It’s the highest compliment he could’ve paid you and you giggle back, “Thank you.”

“Oh, shut up,” he seethes but he’s smiling.

“You last long with them?” you tease, fingers grazing his chest and then curling around the necklace he’s always wearing. You think it’s the Virgin Mary, definitely something catholic.

Billy gently flicks your nose, looking pointedly at you, “This doesn’t typically happen, no.”

You shudder underneath him, tightening your legs around his waist. The stimulation takes his breath from his lungs and he’s pushing you down by your chest, “Give me a minute for fucks sake.”

“What if I want you to cum?” you challenge, rolling your hips against him.

“Then I will,” he keeps his palm pressed hard on your sternum. He starts moving again, pounding hard into you. Hard enough that it startles you and actually kind of hurt. You gasp and he grabs your chin roughly, tilting your head back but his eyes fierce. “But you’re gonna look at me while I do it. You look away and I won’t be happy.”

You’re curious so you tear your eyes away from his face, down to his chest. Billy’s quick to slap you, grabbing onto your jaw again and scolding you, “I fucking mean it.”

“Yes, Sir…” you pant, the carnal assault bringing a flood of arousal from you, only making the sound of his pumping into your wetness louder.

“Good girl,” he spits and it doesn’t sound like praise but like he expects this from you.

“You like when I’m a good girl?” you say through pouted lips.

Billy grits his teeth, thumb digging into your cheek. “Good girls don’t ask dumb questions,” he fumes, his hips relentless against you.

“I’m only bad for you,” you counter, your confidence in speaking is a show of how close you are to a second orgasm.

“I want you to be good right now,” he pants, holding his gaze into your eyes. You wonder if your banter is helping postpone or hastening his own climax.

“Make me be good,” you challenge and Billy’s pulling out to flip you over onto your stomach, grabbing your wrists in his hands and pinning them behind against the small of your back as he penetrates you hard.

“You little slut,” he slanders, driving his hips back and forth at a harsh pace. He’s successful shutting you up, the ferocious onslaught pushing the air from your lungs. He spanks your ass as he unloads inside of you, your own orgasm erupting in sync with him.

“Billy!” you cry out, shaking beneath him.

You both come down, breathing like you’d been holding it in for hours.

“I assure you, it was never anything like that,” he pants, eyes tightly closed.

-

Dress shopping was not fun. You’d dragged Eddie along for moral support but he wasn’t help at all, laughing at most ensembles you’d tried on. “You look like a cake topper.”

“That’s it,” you say, staring back at a foreign reflection. “I’m not going.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “Oh, come on.”

Like some saving grace, you see Billy walking into the store. You lift an eyebrow in surprise, asking what he’s doing there. Then Max walks in behind him, looking out of place just like you.

“I need a dress,” she mutters and you smile, happy that someone had asked her to the Snowball Dance.

“It’s slim Pickens,” you inform her.

“Why not this?” Billy holds up a sleek, red gown. There’s no frills to it at all and you wonder why you couldn’t find it.

“Huh, more my style than Max’s,” you counter and Billy guffaws.

“Gee, I wonder why,” he shoves the hanger in your hand.

You slip away to try the dress on and realize just what a saving grace Billy was. It was like he knew your body better than you did. The god damn thing fit you like a glove, even if it had an absurd amount of cleavage spilling out. You’d never felt sexier, staring back at the mirror. You decide to make Billy wait, changing out of the dress but holding it to your chest.

“Please tell me it’s a winner?” Eddie begs, a hopeful glint in his eye. You’d promised to visit the comic store after this.

“Billy’s omnipresent or something,” you mutter, not wanting to admit he’d picked the perfect dress for you within seconds of arriving.

Billy smirks, “Ya gonna make me wait to see it, huh?”

“Max! Let me help you find something,” you usher the redhead off, not wanting to give Billy the satisfaction.

When you glance back to see him and Eddie getting along, your heart skips a beat thinking of what could be if only he didn’t have to keep you hidden. You shove it down, watching at what Max pulls from the racks. She doesn’t seem to like anything so you counter, “I went to the Snowball dance both years in junior high. You don’t really have to wear a dress.”

“My mom wants me to pick a dress out,” she counters and you nod.

“Let’s try to find something simple, then. I’m not much of a dress girl either, but our dance has a strict dress code,” you say. After a moment of thumbing through the racks, you pull one out, just a simple green dress. “How about this?”

Max looks at it intrigued, fingertips ghosting the velvet. “I guess this could work,” she decides, grabbing it from you and heading towards Billy. She hands it to him and says, “Here.”

Billy looks over to you appreciatively, “Well that was painless.” But he snakes to snatch the dress in your hand, taking it to the counter. You protest but it’s fruitless. Billy’s paying for your dress and handing the bag to you. “I’ll see you around.”

Eddie scoffs as Billy and Max walk out of the boutique, “That guy is something else.”

“I’ll say,” you sigh, grabbing Eddie’s hand and pulling him towards the comic store.

-

With knuckles against your door, Steve feels anxious. You were hard to understand, pushing and pulling away from him. He couldn’t read you at all and that was part of what kept him interested. As he’s waiting outside, he catches Billy and his little step sister walking to his Camaro.

“King Steve,” he hears behind him, having turned away. Billy’s standing there, wearing a suit, hair meticulously styled and a simple stud in his ear.

“Can I help you?” Steve challenges, his hair is always perfectly sculpted, he spent an hour on it.

“No,” Billy shrugs, but before he can continue your dad opens the door.

“Hi, Dale,” Billy beams, confusing your dad, seeing two men standing in almost matching suits, the only difference in bow ties. Steve’s red to match your dress and Billy’s is a hot pink.

“Hello, Billy,” your dad greets, turning to your date and saying, “You must be Steve.”

“Billy! Let’s go!” Max calls out and Billy stifles his anger.

“Have a goodnight, Harrington,” he spits before walking back to his Camaro.

Steve extends his hand to your dad, “Nice to meet you.”

Your dad invites Steve inside, who then excuses himself in the bathroom before you walk out into the kitchen.

“Your boyfriend intimated your date,” your dad lets you know, looking amused.

“Oh, God,” you sigh, grimacing at the thought but thankfully you don’t have time to stew on it as Steve’s exiting the bathroom.

“You look amazing,” he says, out of breath as if he doesn’t see your dad standing next to you.

“So do you,” you tell him, smiling wide. Steve does look good, he usually looks pretty prim and proper but something about him in a tuxedo has you thinking about him in ways you never have.

“I’m right here,” your dad speaks up, chuckling as he does so.

Steve’s eyes widen, “Yeah! Oh, I’m sorry! It’s… sorry, I,” he grabs the corsage he’d left on the counter and presents it to you. You extend your wrist towards him with a flutter of your eyelashes, watching as he adorns the gorgeous rose.

“It’s pretty,” you note, a satisfied smile plastered on your face.

“Just like you,” Steve points out.

Your dad extends his hand to Steve, your date taking it in a firm handshake, “Take care of her.”

Steve nods, then moves towards the door. Your dad hugs you, whispering “Now that’s how a man should treat you.” before pulling away.

“Thank you,” you look into his eyes, you think he’s right but that Billy would… if he could.

The restaurant Steve takes you to is the nicest place you’ve been. It isn’t a diner at the edge of town. There’s many other kids from school here. You don’t see Billy and his date, thankfully. He never told you who he was going with but you weren’t sure if you’d hoped it was someone he hasn’t slept with or some poor sap he’d already fooled around with. You scold yourself for thinking about him in this moment. Right now was about you and your date. You were determined to have a good time. You order a glass of wine and Steve widens his eyes, perhaps impressed by your boldness. You supply your fake ID to the waiter and it’s accepted so he in turn offers Steve a glass. He accepts and you’re pleased to impress the man across from you.

“You’re something else,” Steve smiles, leaning across the table to take his hand in yours.

“I’ve heard that before,” you quip with a cocky smirk.

The food is good and the company even better. Steve is funny and charming, it would’ve been so easy for him to get in your pants if you weren’t spoken for. He’s handsome as hell too but equipped with a boyish charm that works so well. And God, you think, it would be easy to fall into something steady with him. Due to the three glasses of wine, you wonder what Steve’s like between the sheets. You imagine a slew of praises and what kind of noises he’d make with his dick in your mouth. Never in the past three years would you imagine you’d be here with the King of Hawkins High. The alcohol mixed with the the attention has you pressing Steve against his car in the parking lot, kissing him intensely and adoring the way it takes him by surprise.

“Wines the secret ingredient I needed, eh?” He mumbles when you pull away.

“You look good in a suit,” you shrug before trailing to the other side of his BMW. “Let’s go dance the night way, pretty boy.”

“No need to pull my arm,” he quips.

The high school gym looks like a sad car with a new paint job, the streamers doing little to distract you from the fact that you’re at Hawkin’s High. You immediately catch Billy’s eyes, he’s seeing you in the dress he’d bought for the first time. He’d seen it on the rack next to your mirror but he’d longed for the moment he got to see it draping to your curves. You hold Steve’s hand in yours, noticing as heads turn towards the two of you. You thought you looked so good in the dress no one was calling you a freak. But the looks were definitely because Steve brought a freak to Winter Formal and that freak looked hot.

“Jesus Christ,” Tommy mutters to Billy who is also staring at you. He’s about to mirror Tommy’s thirst but catches himself.

“Whatever,” Billy mutters, slinging an arm over Molly’s shoulder.

Cutting Crew’s “(I Just) Died In Your Arms” starts playing and you grab Steve’s hand, pulling him to the punch bowl. When you get your drink, you feel the alcohol burn your throat. Thank God it’s been spiked. This would be a long night without it.

Billy’s watching across the gym, a little taken aback but the jealousy he feels in the pit of his stomach. But it’s your fault, right? He told you to go with Steve but he didn’t tell you to enjoy it. He seethes, watching after you both down a glass of punch before strutting to the dance floor. He hates how romantic this song is, seeing you drape arms around Steve as you sway together. He’d give anything to hear what you two were whispering back and forth. He’d really love to go up and sock Steve right in the face, but that’d be to obvious. No, he’d have to play dirty. Molly’s blabbering in his ear and he regretted the entire game, seeing how carefree and fun you seemed around his arch nemesis. He grabs Molly’s clutch, digging through it for the flask he’d stashed inside, though the whiskey inside isn’t much help.

When Sweet Dreams bubbles out of the speakers, he’s dragging Molly to the dance floor making sure he’s in your eyesight. He turns her around, hands on her hips and he grinds against her bottom with his eyes trained on you. Steve’s blissfully unaware of the competition at hand, gasping in your ear when you mimic Billy and Molly. You swing your hand up to lace through the bottom of Steve’s mullet. You think about kissing Steve but it’s too early. You’d fuck with Billy later, this is what he wanted after all.

After a few songs, you excuse yourself from Steve, explaining you need a cigarette badly. You let him think it’s from arousal but truly, you need a breath of air. It’s also an invitation for Billy that he takes, stalking out after you.

“Having fun?” he sneers as he catches you lighting your smoke.

You guffaw, hearing as the song before bleeds into Don’t Dream It’s Over by Crowded House. “I’m at a school dance watching the man I love grind against some whore,” your voice is venomous.

“I’m having the time of my life too,” Billy’s heart skips when you inadvertently admit you love him but hey, time and place. “It’s not fun watching heart eyes and grabby hands.”

“You told me to go with him, motherfucker,” you seethe, but internally feigning over the jealousy he exudes.

Billy scoffs, taking a deep drag from his own smoke.

“And Molly?” you laugh, “I should’ve guessed. Oh, Billy is just so cute! He’s just so kissable. Fucking gag me with a spoon.”

Billy greets his teeth, “I have something else I’d rather gag you with.”

You laugh harshly, the alcohol really showing itself when you comeback with, “Oh please Billy! I want nothing else than for you to get off in my throat where no one can see! Our little secret.”

“Cut the sarcasm, bitch,” Billy spits, pushing you against the wall.

“The fuck is wrong with you? You have to get drunk to spend the night with Harrington?”

“Had to get drunk to deal with you tonight. Steve’s a breeze to be around,” you quip and Billy’s got his hand on your throat as a reaction.

“You like getting a rise out of me,” he reasons, frowning around the words, “You’re not a filthy slut but you sure like acting like one to get my attention.”

You look him dead in the eye, “Let go of me or I’ll scream.”

Billy gives a laugh full of discredit, pushing you further.

“Oh my god, what are you doing? Billy, stop! You’re hurting me!” You claim and when you open wide to scream his hand is forcing your mouth shut.

“I don’t like the game you’re playing,” he says, eyes wary.

You bite his hand and he pulls away.

“Tell me you love me,” you appeal, eyes trained on his. “Tell me you love me and fucking mean it, Billy.”

He closes his eyes and blows air out of his nose, like he’s dejected. “You’re such a bitch,” he mutters, eyes fluttering open again but you’re serious.

“Tell me,” you shrill, “Tell me or I’m done. I’ll go home with Ste-“

“I love you, okay!” he drops his hand from his hands from your shoulders.

You pull him close, feeling his breath against your lips, “Again.”

“I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you too, Billy Hargrove,” you say breathlessly before pulling him into a bruising kiss.

You could feel he meant it, especially with the way he kisses you back. You leave in two days for Florida and you really couldn’t leave without the admission. You melt into him and the two of you share a beautiful moment but it’s cut short by a girl neither of you know, storming out in tears. You both retract, as if you weren’t just sharing the most important stage of your relationship.

“You should get back to Steve,” Billy says dejectedly.

“One more time,” you plead.

“I love you,” he indulges, a quick kiss.

“I love you too,” you mutter, pulling back to stumble back into the dance. Everything seems different. You don’t want to go back to Steve, you want to follow Billy to his Camaro and get a motel somewhere far.

Take my breath away you hear through the fogginess of the smoke machines, seeing Steve fiddling with his fingers at a table. This isn’t fair, you think as you collapse into the chair next to him. Steve saw Billy follow you and the flush on your face but he doesn’t tell you.

“You want me to take you home?” he asks and you nod.

“Please…”

[fyreflys]

Prompt if you’d like it! Peeta giving his cold to Katniss on accident but since she no longer has a spleen, it turns into a more flu like illness for poor Katniss and Peeta must nurse her back to health (similar to her caring for him in the cave but ya know… #married)

Oooo this is an adorable idea! And I got another prompt that I think I can include that would work perfectly together. MERGE TIME!

Chicken Noodle Soup

(Katniss’s POV) - Love and Some Verses, Iron & Wine

Everlark period/sick-fic, just fluff fluff fluff

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get you sick.”

Is what Peeta keeps telling her. Constantly apologizing for transferring his cold. Even though Katniss didn’t even bother trying to keep her distance to avoid getting sick, so really it’s her own fault.

Katniss is pretty sure that no one ever really intentionally tries to get others sick, it’s always an accident. Happens as a result of what being sick means. And she knows Peeta didn’t do it on purpose, he couldn’t possibly have wanted to make her sick as a dog. So the fact that he keeps apologizing, as if there’s any possibility that he did do this on purpose, is beginning to make it feel like maybe he did. That, and it’s getting annoying. Very quickly.

“Peeta,” she groans, “Just- shut up.”

She doesn’t actually mean that. He’s really the only thing keeping her sane right now. She’s been bed ridden for three days now, and if her body didn’t feel like shit, there’s nothing she wouldn’t do for a hike in the woods.

“Sorry.” He whispers, dabbing the wet washcloth on her forehead.

Yesterday Peeta dragged her to the doctor, because he’s convinced she’s dying. The doctor just confirmed it’s a bad cold, made worse by the fact that Katniss no longer has a spleen to help her immune system. He gave them some medication that “might” help, and then sent them on their way.

Needless to say, Katniss was not happy. Mostly because Peeta had dragged her out of the house when she felt like shit for no apparent reason.

Peeta was angry too. Kept mumbling something about “malpractice” and the doctor being an “idiot” and then trying to convince her that they need to go to the Capital, to see a “real” doctor.

“Peeta, I’m not sure if you have forgotten, but I’m in exile. Banned, to stay here in twelve for the rest of my life. So no, we cannot go to the Capital.”

She doesn’t mention the fact that she really doesn’t want to be re-reminded of all the terrible things that they’ve seen and had happen to them; most of which happened in the Capital.

“You’re the mockingjay. If something was majorly wrong with you, they’d have to save you.”

“I don’t want to be the mockingjay, anymore.” She’d grumbled as he tucked her back into bed, “and I’ve lived through worse than this.”

He frowned. Much like he is right now, as he looks at her with those big, blue, pleading puppy dog eyes.

“What?” She rasps.

He licks his lips. “I just…I’m so sorry you’re sick.”

She swears his heart is too big for his own good.

“You know what would make me feel better?” She sighs.

He perks up. “What?”

“Cuddle.” She whispers. She’d usually reach out to grab him, but her body feels too much like lead to exert that much energy.

He smiles. “I can do that.”

He peels back the bedsheets, and Katniss shivers at what feels like freezing air. He curls in behind her, gently squeezing her close. She melts against him. The arm around her warm and comforting. Until his hand slips under her shirt and his fingers start tracing patterns on her side, and he begins to pepper kisses to her shoulders. Despite them being small and gentle touches, her nerves feel overly sensitive with how feverish she is, and each soft graze almost feels painful.

“Stop- please,” she whispers, “that- too sensitive.” She mumbles.

“Oh. Sorry.” He places one more peck to her cheek, and then leaves her be.

She falls into sleep like a rock tossed down a ravine, skipping sleep entirely and diving straight into dreams. The world feels like it’s tilting and spinning around her as she dreams. They start out as strange and uncomfortable, but somewhere along the way they get more and more unhinged, twisted visions persisting, until finally-

She startles awake suddenly, eyes snapping open as she gasps for air. The nightmare feels plastered to her eyelids.

“Peeta?” She croaks softly, heart hammering in her chest as a tear slips down her cheek.

But she’s alone. Peeta is nowhere to be seen. She forces herself to reach across the bed behind her in search of him. But he’s not there either.

Momentarily she fears he’s abandoned her, but then she realizes that’s ridiculous. She couldn’t escape him even if she wanted to.

She tries to shake the nightmare from her head. Desperately trying to imagine something else, like- Deer. Deer and squirrels, prancing through the forest. The nightmare was not real not real not real, as Peeta would say.

She takes a deep breath. Her entire body aches painfully. Specifically her lower back and her hips and- oh.

Even sick, and aching all over, she knows this feeling well.

“Damn it.” She huffs.

She supposes it was about time this happened again. She doesn’t bother keeping track. There’s no use with how irregular she is.

“Peeta.” She calls, but her voice is weak.

He doesn’t come. Where is he? She sighs. She’s going to have to do this herself, isn’t she?

She wills herself to gather any remaining energy she has to sit up. It takes a few minutes to convince herself.

I could just wait here, until he comes back-

No.

She sits up suddenly, impulsively, not giving herself a chance to talk herself out of it. Her head spins, pain pounding through her skull. She coughs, clutching her head.

When the throbbing passes she manages to will her legs to dangle over the side of the bed. And then on the count of three she stands. She’s shaky, and the air is freezing agaisnt her feverish skin, and it’s awful.

Just get to the bathroom-

She makes it a few steps towards the door. And then she stumbles. She just barely catches the doorknob. She sends the door slamming closed as she falls.

“Katniss?!” Peeta shouts from down stairs.

She rolls over onto her back, and the world feels like it’s still spinning. He comes rushing into the bedroom, crouching down when he sees her.

“Oh my god are you okay?” Hands are immediately at her head, feeling for any bumps or bleeding, “What happened? Why are you out of bed?”

He sits and sets her head in his lap, brushing hair out of her face.

“Bathroom.” She whispers. “Just. Fell.”

“You should have called for me I would have helped.”

“I did.” She breathes, and even talking is exhausting. With Peeta right above her the world finally stops spinning.

He frowns. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. I was making pasta.”

She takes in a breath through her mouth, nose too stuffy. “Bathroom.”

“Well- I think we should take a moment. You just- what, fell trying to walk? That’s pretty concerning,” He feels her forehead, “and you’re really burning up, gosh.”

She could have told him she had a fever. It feels like it’s radiating through her bones.

“Toilet,” her tongue clicks softly in her mouth, feeling dry, “Bleeding.”

“Bleeding? What- where? Why didn’t you say you were bleeding! Oh my god-“ he starts to shuffle, pulling at her clothes to find the source.

“Period.” She groans, just about fed up with him.

“Oh.” He pauses. “Right. Okay. Let’s get that taken care of then.”

He shuffles to sit her up against the wall, and then scoops her up bridal style. He carefully sets her down by the toilet, holding on as he pulls down her sweats and underwear in one fell swoop.

And yep- there it is. A massacre in her pants.

Peeta helps her sit, making sure she’s stable enough to sit up on her own. He pulls off her sweats and underwear, turning on the sink to set them in.

“Cold,” she whispers.

“Cold? You’re cold?”

Well- yeah, she kind of is. Despite feeling like she’s burning up from the inside, the floor and the toilet seat and the air is freezing against her skin. But she’s referring to the water.

“Yeah,” she breathes, “But-water. Cold water.”

“You need cold water? I can get you water. You’re probably thirsty you’ve been asleep for like four hours.”

Okay, yes, that too. She could use a glass of water.

“Yes, but- blood. Needs cold water.”

“Oh! Yeah, okay. Cold water. Right.”

She closes her eyes, slumping on the toilet as she pees. Peeta leaves to grab stuff from the bedroom. He returns with a fresh pair of clothes. He holds a cup of water up to her lips, and she sips. It feels like heaven down her throat.

“Thanks.” She breathes.

He just pecks her forehead. “How bout I run you a short bath? Luke warm. Try to get your body temp down. And you could really use a shower.”

She groans.

“I know- I know. But it will make you feel better, I promise.”

She just grumbles. He gets to work running a bath, and then scrubs the blood out of her underwear under the sink. He struggles to get a pad into the clean pair of undies, and Katniss finally wills herself to use the little energy she does have to show him. He kisses her cheek.

“Right. Got it. Now let’s get you in.”

She complains, but doesn’t have the energy to fight against him. He pulls off her sweaty t-shirt, and picks her up and sets her down in the tub. The water feels freezing at first. She yelps, clutching at him.

“I know- I know it feels cold but I promise it will help. You’re burning up Katniss. We need to cool you down.”

She holds onto him, and he presses kisses against her head. After a few minutes it starts to feel okay. He gently pours water through her hair. He scrubs in shampoo and rinses. He gently scrubs her with a warm soapy washcloth after he pulls the drain, just under her arms and between her legs, barely batting an eye at the blood. They’ve both seen enough of it for a lifetime. He turns on the shower head to rinse her off. The water feels like freezing needles against her overly sensitive skin. By the time he gets her out and finishes toweling her off she’s pissed.

She glowers at him from the toilet as he dresses her. He ignores her scathing eyes as he sprays in conditioner and brushes her hair, fumbling to put it in a makeshift braid.

“There! See, all better!” He smiles when he’s done.

She is not amused. Yes, her body feels less like a boiling fire, but she still hurts. And despite him doing all the work, she’s exhausted. But she’s too angry and stubborn to admit it, or even consider closing her eyes for some shut eye.

He chuckles. “You’re such a sourpuss when you’re sick, you know that?”

“That was hell.” She snips.

He rolls his eyes playfully. “Yeah yeah, okay Haymitch.”

He pulls her off the toilet and pulls up her underwear and pants. He gently scoops her up.

“You want to set up camp downstairs on the couch? That way it’s easier to get my attention if you need something. Also I’m making you soup.”

She gives a grunt, and winces as the pain that radiates up and down her spine and belly.

“I’ll grab you some painkillers.” He adds on.

She would usually turn those down. But at this point she’ll take them.

He gently lays her on the couch. He runs back upstairs to grab linens. He comes back down with arms full of blankets and pillows. He drops them in a heap on the floor. He leaves again. Katniss looses track of all the things he runs off and gets, eyes slipping closed.

He takes her temperature.

He hisses, “One o’ two. Yeah. You’re definitely getting meds.” Which he shoves into her mouth very shortly afterward. He tries not to look worried, but she can tell that he is. She’s worse than she was yesterday. He forces her to take the medication the doctor gave them the day before. She doesn’t have the energy to fight him.

He tucks her in under one blanket, but gives her plenty of pillows. He sets tissues and a glass of water on the side table next to her head. He kisses her forehead.

“Anything else you need?” He says softly.

Probably. But right now she’s exhausted. And talking is too much energy. So she just hums.

“Okay. Soup should be ready in thirty minutes or so. Do you want me to wake you up or let you sleep?”

Truthfully, she wants him to curl in beside her on the couch and not leave her side. Because with him pressed against her, she has a semblance of relief.

Instead she just grunts. He pecks her forehead again, chuckling softly.

“Okay.”

And then she’s left alone. And despite being tired, she can’t seem to fall sleep. The pain is just too much. Enough that she’d toss and turn, but she doesn’t have the energy to do so. So instead she lays motionless in agony, waiting for meds to kick in.

It’s possible she does drift off. But it seems like each time her eyes open the grandfather clock by her mothers old bedroom door hasn’t moved an inch.

Finally Peeta reappears, with a steaming bowl in hands.

“Chicken noodle soup, for m’lady.” He bows, just for the dramatics.

He helps her sit up, and carefully spoons it to her lips. With how much pain shes in, the thought of food makes her nauseous. But Peeta coaxes her to eat. And she does. One small spoonful at a time. With how stuffed her nose is she can barely taste it, but what she does taste is good.

And it reminds her of the cave, in their first games. As she spoon fed him. Monitoring his leg. Trying everything she could think of to keep him alive.

Thankfully, now is nothing like that. This is peaceful, and warm, and safe.

With food in her belly she realizes how hungry she is. And she just about scarfs down the rest of the bowl, along with the hunk of bread he dips in the broth. And she feels like she has a little more energy.

“You want more?” He asks softly.

She shakes her head. She feels too full. Any more and she might puke.

“Your appetite is back. That’s a good thing.”

“I feel like I’m going to puke.” She grumbles.

“Like- actually?” He freezes, shifting as if ready to grab a bin.

“No- just- a lot of food. Nauseous from the pain.”

He frowns. “The pain meds should have kicked in already. You look better. Less pale.” He feels her forehead. “You don’t feel as hot.”

She winces. “Cramps.”

His face relaxes. “Oh.”

She closes her eyes. With a full belly she’s ready to pass out.

“What if…I tried to rub them out?” He says softly.

Her eyes flicker open lazily. “Please. And- my back- please.”

“Yeah, yeah of course.” He leans in press a kiss to her forehead.

He gently pushes her to lay down. He tugs up her shirt and pulls the waistband of her pajama pants lower.

“Where does it hurt?” He asks softly.

She slowly moves to touch, fingers almost feeling numb against her own skin as she traces just inside of her pelvic crests, and down below her belly button. His warm hands are still almost too much against her feverish skin when he reaches out. But she needs this.

He’s far too gentle.

“Harder,” she whispers, “like bread.”

He’s good at kneading bread.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you-“

“There’s no way you could make me feel worse than I already do. Please.”

And finally his palms and thumbs press in. She urges more, and more, and finally gets impatient and shifts his hands to press right there and- oh. It feels so good she actually moans.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Oh?”

“Shut up.” She gasps.

He grins wickedly. But doesn’t comment on any more of her breathless gasps as he digs in and finally gives her relief.

“When- you’re done,” she breathes, “gonna need- bathroom.”

He pauses, “Do you have to pee? I’m literally pressing like right on your bladder-“

“No- new pad.” Because he’s quite literally kneading the blood right out of her. Which would usually be disgusting, but right now the relief feels too good for her to care.

“Oh. Okay.” And he keeps going.

She nearly falls asleep with his hands on her stomach. She still hurts, and the pain still radiates through her bones, but the stretch of her cramping muscles is almost heavenly. She closes her eyes, and Peeta presses kisses to her shoulders, trailing down to her stomach. He rubs softly after he pulls back, hands sliding over her hips.

“You want me to do your back?” He asks softly.

She hums. He helps flip her over. His hands and fingers roam over her skin, pressing and pulling all the way up her spine and between her shoulders. She practically melts into the couch as he soothes her aches. His lips ghost over her skin in subtle kisses, and she never wants it to end.

Eventually he pulls away, tugging her shirt back down.

“Bathroom?” He asks.

She grumbles. “Don’t wanna move.”

He hums. He forces her off the couch anyways, and drags her to the bathroom. She changes things herself, and then he helps her back to the couch.

“I’m gonna eat and then we can snuggle. If you want. I can turn on the TV.”

She just grunts. He turns on the screen above their fireplace mantle, and flips through channels. He lands on a show they’ve binge watched over the years, and then leaves for the kitchen. She zones out the sounds and clatter that he makes. Finally he sits down by her feet with a bowl of soup, and her eyelids feel heavy. She drifts halfway between awake and asleep, until he curls up with her. He presses a kiss to her temple.

“Thank you.” She whispers. He’s done more than enough for her. And she knows he’d do everything if he had to. And she is thankful.

“Of course.” He breathes. And pecks her lips.

She smiles, and uses the little energy she does have to snake an arm around him and hold him close. Their foreheads knock together.

“I love you.” He breathes softly.

She hums, “Love you too.”

[fullsunstrawberry]

PREVIEW dirty little secret

{OUT NOW}

Synopsis: Childhood best friends' relationship is strained when you drunkenly sleep with his new best friend. Chenle’s panic about y/n regretting their one night stand turns into a secret relationship. Just as you think everything is fine, you're faced with the ultimatum: “It’s either him or me.” or in other words: A small silly little pinky promise will destroy a friendship

Genre: friends to lovers, hidden romance, forbidden (not really) lovers??

Content Warnings: Dreamies getting drunk, mention of blackout, one night stand, turned more, ANGST with fluffy end, Jisung is a little shit in this, SMUT (but very vanilla smut)

Word Count: 7.2k (preview is 1.4k)

Release Date: Sep. 16

TAGLIST OPEN!

"Come on! You never miss a hangout," Jisung whined into the phone.

“They always end up with me getting drunk and sleeping on the dorm couch, no thanks,” you replied.

“This time it’s at Chenle’s house. You can even call dibs on his spare bedroom!” Jisung reasoned.

“I’m not getting out of this, am I?” You already knew the answer.

“Nope, see you later!”

Once Jisung ended the call, you had a moment to think. Great, you got yourself into another hangout. It’s not that you hate hanging out with the guys, but you've started to develop a little crush on Chenle.

He’s been extra flirty with you lately. It’s not because he likes you; he's been playful with everyone! Well, that's what you try to tell yourself.

But you can't like him! Jisung would go nuts. He was the one to introduce you to all the guys, promising you wouldn't like any of them when you were twelve. But it seems like Jisung has held you up to that silly pinky promise.

One time you told Jisung that Renjun's new haircut looked really good on him and Jisung freaked out, claiming you were falling for Renjun and it was against the “Bro code.” This made you confused because that's not what bro code is, but he looked very upset, so you didn't question it.

Now there is no way you will ever admit to liking Chenle. If he got upset with Renjun, you know he would be furious if you even flirted back with Chenle. That’s his best friend! He’s not the type to be happy about his boy and girl best friend dating. You're sure he’s told that to Chenle so you never took his flirting too seriously. That didn't stop your heart from beating faster after every time he looked at you.

A group of guys yelled as soon as Chenle opened the door.

“They’re already this rowdy,” you sighed, already coming up with excuses as to why you had to leave.

Chenle laughed at your disapproval written all over your face. “Stick by me, I swear I'm not as bad as them.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing that he was literally the loudest one. You let out a “mmh” before walking around him to be greeted with a bunch of “Y/NNNNs.” You could definitely tell they started drinking without you by the way Donghyuck reached out to you with grabby hands.

“You guys already started without me!” you grabbed an already-opened beer on the table and took a swig out of it.

“It's not our fault you're late,” Jaemin teased.

“Sorry, I have a life.”

“Reading fanfiction?” Renjun giggled.

“Can’t believe I'm already getting attacked, I just arrived!”

“I told you to stick by me,” Chenle laughed.

“You're right. It’s me and you now… Let’s get drunk!” You smiled, grabbing another beer to give to Chenle.

You're glad you didn't have to wake up on a couch hungover. Waking up in a bed surrounded by the comfiest blanket wrapped around you felt like heaven. You did not want to wake up.

You stretched to feel the coldness of the other side of the bed. But your leg hit another leg that wasn't your own. You don’t remember anything after Donghyuck’s karaoke challenge. Did someone sleep over too? Mark was supposed to pick up the guys and bring them back to the dorm… Maybe he forgot?

Moving your head to see who ended up passed out with you, you froze.

“WHY DON’T I HAVE ANY CLOTHES ON?!?”

Should you look? Should you not look? You slowly turn your head to check who you fell asleep with. Maybe you didn't hook up with one of your friends… Maybe you just overheated and took off your clothes.

Turning over, you yelp in shock. Chenle is still sleeping next to you. Even worse, he’s shirtless, and you don’t really want to check under the sheets to confirm your suspicions.

But before you could panic any further, you noticed that Chenle was still sound asleep, a peaceful expression on his face. You took a moment to calm yourself down and gather your thoughts. Maybe there was a logical explanation for this situation.

You carefully wriggled out of the bed, making sure not to disturb Chenle. As you grabbed your clothes scattered across the room, memories of last night started to flood back. The drunken laughter, the friendly banter, and when all of the guys left. All you could remember was cleaning up the kitchen because you felt bad leaving it such a mess. Then Chenle's hands grabbed yours in protest and said he would clean it up in the morning. But instead of agreeing you tried to pull his hands away which caused him to press into you.

Shaking your head to bring yourself back to reality you quickly threw your clothes back on and made your way downstairs. Needing some water because of how dry your throat felt. You didn't want to even think about why your throat hurt...

Once downstairs you can finally think about what the hell just happened. But no, life hates you. Instead, you were met with Mark washing dishes.

"Finally you woke up" Mark laughed before turning around and being met with a face he did not expect to see.

"Why did you come down from Chenle’s room?"

You blinked at Mark's question, trying to come up with a plausible response. "Oh, I just woke up and wanted some water," you stammered, attempting to act casual.

Mark raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "Water? Really? Because it looked like you were in quite a rush to get out of there."

You felt the heat rising to your cheeks as you fumbled for words. "I just... didn't want to disturb Chenle. He's still sleeping, and I didn't want to wake him up."

Mark's eyes narrowed, studying your face. "Uh-huh. Sure." He seemed unconvinced, but he didn't press further. Instead, he went back to washing the dishes.

You took the opportunity to escape the awkward situation and headed towards the kitchen table “What do I do Mark, I fucked up did I?”

Mark sighed, turned off the water, and dried his hands on a kitchen towel before looking at you with a serious expression. "Well, it depends on what you want. Did something happen between you and Chenle last night?"

You hesitated for a moment before deciding to be honest with Mark. "I don't remember much, but I woke up in his bed, and I think we hooked up. I have no idea what went down, and I'm panicking."

Mark sighed again, his expression softening. "Look, Y/N, it happens. People get drunk, things get blurry. Maybe nothing happened, or maybe something did. The important thing is to communicate with Chenle. Figure out what both of you remember and how you both feel about it."

"But what if he thinks it’s gross or something?" you worriedly questioned.

Mark shook his head. "Chenle is a good guy, and he knows how these things can happen when everyone's been drinking. Just talk to him. Honesty is the key here."

Taking a deep breath, you nodded.

• ──────── •

Before you could process the situation, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the stairs. Chenle, struggling to pull down his hoodie and hastily reaching for his keys, descended in a rush of movement.

"Easy there, you're going to hurt yourself" Mark teased, chuckling as Chenle glanced up with an expression of sheer panic.

"Mark, fuck! I messed up big time. Y/N's going to hate me, and she'll never want to see me again. I genuinely like her, and I've messed everything up," Chenle exclaimed, the urgency in his voice evident.

Mark raised an eyebrow, exchanging a knowing look with you. "Well, you might want to talk to her about that instead of assuming the worst," he suggested.

Chenle's eyes widened as he finally noticed your presence. "Y/N, I... I'm so sorry if I did something wrong. I don't really remember what happened, but I know we ended up doing something, and now I'm just freaking out," he rambled, looking genuinely distressed.

You took a deep breath, trying to ease the tension in the room. "Chenle, let's just talk about it, okay? I don't remember much either, but panicking won't help. We need to figure out what actually happened and how we both feel about it."

Chenle nodded, relief washing over his face. "Yeah, you're right. We should talk." He looked at Mark, who gave him an encouraging nod.

“This is something you two have to figure out.” Mark grabbed his jacket and left.

TBC

© 2024 fullsunstrawberry all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works on other social media’s. reblogs and comments are appreciated a lot!

[changelingsandothernonsense]

Since you asked for more asks 🫂

Here's one for Josh's point of view again: do you keep count of the many times you found yourself in jail? How does it feel to be jailed once again after a drunken binge?

Hello! I really do appreciate these asks, it's helping keep my head level. But without further ado. Joshi's pov (he rambles before he starts panicking. I've set this during a 4e 201 fic i'm writing where he's rarely sober except for after he's slept off a bender and he's in and out of gaol a lot. He's painfully sober during this)

If I'm honest, I stopped counting a long time ago. There was once a time in my life where I fought tooth and nail to not find myself locked in a cell again but evidently, I'm not very good at it.

I'm technically still on the run from my conscription two hundred years ago, since like I kinda just left after I got Corprus. I'm aware that my original sentence had been fucked about with a fuck tonne, so I don't really know how long my original sentence was. Last I heard it was 55 years- course that was before it got changed again to execution. Apparently that's part of the reason I was picked for playing folk hero - my death was meant to be useful. Kinda bit them in the ass, aye?

As you can imagine, I'm not really the compliant sort. Cosades would have me thrown into the dungeons of Fort Moonmoth every time I fucked about. I'll be honest here, I do have a bit of an issue with being in total darkness. You don't spend twelve years in a tiny, solitary cell with no view of the sun and be okay, I think. I sleep with a lamp burning, even after all this time. Cosades knew that I think and that's how he got me as far as he did. It's why I killed him.

So I really tried my best to avoid finding myself in another gaol cell for a really long time. Mind you, I had Erra to keep me from fucking up too much back then. I didn't find myself back in a cell until I was back in Cyrodiil just before the Oblivion Crisis. Think I stopped counting how often I got thrown in gaol to sleep off a binge or for beating the shit out of some dumb fuck that looked at me wrong around then too. Yeah, it wasn't my best time or anything. I kinda go up and down with my drinking, yeah?

I'm pretty bad with it now, I know that and I'm fucking astounded they keep letting me out. I got thrown in Falkreath's Gaol the other day for breaking some n'wah's face and I can tell you, that place is unpleasant. The cells are flooded and that water isn't particularly clean. Not a great place to wake up after passing out somewhere near whatever their tavern's called, yeah?

I can tell you that I still feel panic every time I wake up to the feeling of shackles around my ankles. The Redoran back in Raven Rock didn't do that though, I think Veleth figured I wasn't really a danger to anyone but myself and the Redeemer shrine up at the Temple after the first few incidents.

I'm usually sober, or almost sober when I wake up and that means my brain is fucking yelling at me about how much of a failure I am. I feel so fucking empty all the time. Just all the fucking time! Then Nerevar gets in there and-

SHUT UP!

Sorry, um... I don't feel good when I'm in there. I spiral coz of all the thoughts and if I'm in a cell with someone else it's so much fucking worse! Like, I've killed a guy for as little as a touch on the shoulder. I'm not proud of it, and I may not be able to go back to High Rock for a long fucking time. I don't do well locked up and yet I'm always fucking up and getting myself thrown right back in there!

I don't know, I don't know which way is up half the time. I sometimes wonder if I'll really step in it again like I did when I was a kid and get thrown in a real prison again. I got shanked in the gut once when when I was at that tobacco plantation and I still have nightmares about it. I've always thought that that was how I'd meet my end and theres nothing to stop me from dying from blood loss. It just takes far longer than a normal guy.

I've tried.

I don't do well locked up. I just wish I could stop being a fuck-up.

[azzie89]

Gravity-Chapter Twenty

(A Lukas Matsson Fanfic)

Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty

Warnings: brief mentions of smut (18+)

It was morning. It was late morning and they still hadn't gotten out of bed. You were laying on your back and he was on his side, pressed up against you, with one arm wrapped around you across your boobs. The other was propping him up and your legs were tangled with his.

Every time you went to pull away, he would pull you back into him with a searing kiss. You couldn't help but stay in his arms and let his mouth devour yours. As he did so, your blood buzzed like fireworks danced beneath your skin, in your veins and you could not get enough. Your own hands tangled in his hair as they kissed. You felt a bit dizzy but still your lips chased his like he was the air your lungs desperately needed instead of him being the one stealing it.

Finally, you tried to gain sense as you panted, "Lukas, we can't stay in bed all day."

"I think we should," he pressed a kiss to your cheek with a grin.

"We can't. Because we..." you breathed. "We have things to do."

"They can wait," his hold tightened on you and he kissed your lips.

His tongue invaded your mouth and you let out a little moan. Then you moved away, scooting out of his hold to sit on the edge of the bed. You panted again.

"They can't wait," you reasoned. "It's Election Day. I...I have to vote and you....you have to get me a ring."

You were voting for Connor, of course. In the state of New York, it's not like your vote mattered much in the long run. Plus, you'd always be on the side of your best brother.

You were pouting now as you stared at him. You wanted a ring. Wanted something that was more than just words. You wanted proof.

"That can all be done. We can do that," he persuaded eagerly as he ran his fingers up your back, trailing down your spine which made you shiver. "But just...later."

You looked back at him. His touch was your absolute weakness along with his eyes that were staring at you, hypnotizing you. You felt all hot now as he was giving you that look, that darkened look, with a small little grin as he called your name softly. You bit your lip as you contemplated.

It felt like you were on auto-pilot as you just started to move towards him. You crawled back on the bed and you straddled him. You stared down at him a bit excitedly.

"This is so bad. We're so bad," you bit your lip again as you felt his erection press against your folds.

He sat up to caress your cheek before he gained a smug smile, "Maybe we're a little bad. But does that fucking matter?"

"No," you whispered as you felt him press against your slit and you started to breathe a little heavy with the anticipation. "You'll pull out, right?"

The condom he had used had been thrown away after many, many rounds of sex. They didn't have another one and you decided that today you also wanted to buy condoms because with the way things felt between them, it was almost like an addiction.

"I'll pull out," he stated before kissing your lips shortly and then you felt him push into you. And they had sex again.

_____

They were in the shower now. They had done a lot of kissing in here, too before you got Lukas to focus. They both applied shampoo to their hair before they washed the other in body wash. He was washing your body, rubbing soap suds onto your body. He was at breasts currently and you let out a little sigh.

"Do they...hurt you?" he asked curiously as he stared into your eyes.

"What? Why would my boobs hurt?"

"I mean, you're so tiny," he gained a small grin. "I heard that they can cause back pain or some shit. I don't fucking know."

You giggled, "No, I don't have any back pain. They're not that big."

He hummed as he moved his hands down your stomach before you commented, "Its hard to find bras, though. Like I can find bras that fit my boobs but they don't fit my waist. But they're usually unflattering types of bras."

You had big boobs but you were a tiny person. You had a tiny waist. You could never find a band size that fit you.

You remembered when you were a teenager and your boobs grew over the summer during puberty. You went back to school not wearing a bra because you couldn't find one that fit. It was an all-girls school but your teacher, who was a man, kept staring and was getting really red in the face. You didn't understand why. You were sent to the dean who called your father and Logan was furious; he was disappointed in you. From that point on, you had custom-made bras.

"There's fucking different kinds of bras? You're serious?" he asked in confusion.

"Yes, Lukas," you smiled in amusement. "And I have to get mine custom-made."

"That's a thing?"

"For me, it is."

"Of course it is," he grinned. "You're such a princess."

You blushed, "Shut up. You said I was supposed to be pampered."

"True. And I'm probably gonna fucking overdo it. You should know that."

"Okay," you smiled widely. "I'll spoil you, too, then."

He chuckled, "Alright."

He stared at your smile and he couldn't help it. He tilted your chin up with his soapy hand and kissed you. It was a short, sweet kiss before he pulled away muttering beautiful. You blushed before you turned around for him to do your backside. He started massaging your shoulders before trailing down. You sighed a little bit.

Then he got down to your butt and he squeezed your cheeks before massaging them. He spread them a little bit as he did so and you realized that he knew what your asshole looked like when you did not. His thumb then ran over that hole and you jumped.

"Uh-huh. No," you denied. "I don't like that. I'm not ever having ass-sex."

He couldn't help but chuckle, "Did you just call it ass-sex?"

You blushed, "Yes. But you get my point."

"I wasn't going to do anything, Ella," he started to wash down your thighs. "I just...I was going to ask if you were curious or whatever. I'm not really an ass guy but I would've done it if you wanted me to."

"I'm perfectly happy with your dick in my vagina thank you very much."

"Perfectly happy? Is it that good?"

You blushed again, "You already know the answer to that question."

He hummed before finishing cleaning you. You turned to do him. You gathered some soap in your hands before starting to lather his chest in it. You did his torso and you just barely reach his shoulders. He chuckled, "You're so cute."

He then lifted you up to hook your legs around his waist. He held you there with his hands on your thighs as you rubbed his shoulders, massaging them and relieving the tension. He hummed in content, "That feels good."

"Yeah, because you have terrible posture. You're always hunching over all the time," you said as you scrunched your nose. "I'm worried I'll have to make you wear a back brace when you're fifty."

"You're worried? About my posture?" he said in amusement.

"Of course I am," you nuzzled your nose against his cheek before pressing a kiss to the skin. "I'll always worry about you."

He smiled softly before kissing you. It was soft and slow before you both pulled away. It left you with a little happy smile as you continued your work on his shoulders. You trailed a finger over the scar on one; a scar from the accident.

Then you pecked him on the lips, "Okay. I'm all done here."

He set you down and you finished his front before doing his backside. Then you both washed off together and you had a smile, "You're gonna smell like me."

"Yeah. Like fucking flowers," he sniffed and frowned that he, a guy, smelt so feminine. "It's not very attractive."

"Of course it is," you smiled and ran your hands up his torso. "I like it. It's like you're mine."

"I am yours," he said before he grinned. "Wouldn't want to be anything else, princess."

You blushed before you reached up and looped your arms around his neck. You pulled him down to you before kissing softly and then muttering, "Love you."

He picked you up again to wrap your legs around his waist. You kissed for a little while longer under the water with your body pressed against his. The shower was a mess of steam and it was hot; it made everything even more dizzy as he kissed you but you didn't let yourself get carried away. The two of you finally got out to actually begin your day.

_____

You went out with Lukas. You went and voted while he waited in the car. Then you went with him to pick out a ring at a jewelry store. He was letting you pick the ring because he wanted you to have the ring that you wanted. They actually went to four different stores before she found one she liked, loved.

Your eyes had locked in on it. But you went around the store first just to make sure before coming back to it. It was a gold ring with a diamond in the shape of a heart. You wondered if it was childish to get a wedding ring that had a heart. But it was what you liked.

You supposed you wanted to look down at the heart on your finger and know that someone's heart belonged to you. It also went along with the matching bracelets you and Lukas wore. It was a theme because he had your heart and you had his.

So you wanted to wear a ring on your finger that told the whole world that your heart belonged to him. You didn't want some regular diamond because he was not just some jewel to you. You didn't want some ring that held no meaning. You wanted a heart because you gave him yours.

"This one," you happily smiled as you slid it on your finger; it was a bit loose and it would have to be resized.

"You sure? You know you can pick anything?"

The ring you picked was a bit dainty but still elegant. It wasn't very flashy compared to something that Lukas might've picked. This was more simple but you couldn't help but like it. It was bright to you.

"Yes, this one."

And you ended up picking out an engagement ring. It was a simple gold band with diamonds inset all the way around it. The two of you waited a few minutes for the rings to be resized before you left with Lukas.

You could feel the weight of the rings on your finger and it made you feel giddy. You immediately jumped up into his arms as they left and kissed him as he held you to him. You muttered I love you's in between kisses.

He put you down eventually and you walked with him back to the car holding his hand. You stared up at him a bit dreamily, "I'm really happy, you know. Is this what it's gonna be like with you everyday?"

"I'll try. I'll really fucking try," Lukas promised before he grinned slightly. "I'll do anything for my girl. My Ella."

His Ella. You felt butterflies and you pulled him in for a short kiss, stopping him as you did so. When you started walking with him again, you felt like this was the happiest you'd ever been. And you realized that not only did Lukas give you love by being in your life but he gave you joy as well. You finally felt joy deep in your bones that made you have a little skip in your step. You were happy and you would continue to be for as long as you had him, as long as you were his.

_____

That night you went to his apartment. He had some of his Gojo staff there to watch the election news, like a watch party, because whoever was elected could very well decide whether the deal went through. Lukas talked to Shiv on the phone a little bit; apparently, it was chaotic at Waystar. That didn't surprise you.

But you mostly focused on Lukas. You kept glued to Lukas. You sat beside him on the couch. Every time he moved, you moved. If he got up to go talk to someone, you'd grab his hand and go with him. Lukas grinned every time you did so; he loved the clinginess.

He'd remove his hand from yours and wrap his arm around you, pulling you close. He'd kiss the top of your head. He loved your presence up against him. And his chest felt all warm; he kept scratching at the feeling.

When everyone left, you immediately attacked him with kisses, sliding your hand under his shirt, "You shouldn't have had anyone over."

"Ella, it was work..." he went to argue but immediately paused as you took off your shirt. Jesus.

"So work is more important?" you questioned as you undid your bra and let it fall from your silky skin.

"No. Fuck. No," he swallowed before he grabbed you, pulling you to him, and kissed you hard.

You let him do so for a moment as his hands explored your breasts. Then you pulled away and grabbed his hand while walking backwards to the bedroom. He followed you like lovesick hunchback puppy.

"Don't ever think work is more important than me, Lukas," you demanded before your voice quieted. "That's what everyone else does."

"Never. Ella, never," he promised as gazed at you like you were made of stardust. "I love you."

There's no way he'd think, well, anything was more important than you. How could you ever think that? He blamed your father and your siblings. He hated that you didn't believe you were absolutely perfect. He would just have to prove it to you, every day, for the rest of his life.

Once they reached the bedroom, he kissed you ever so softly. Delicately. He tried to kiss you in a way that conveyed you were everything to him. Because you were.

Yes, he loved the sex. He'd always love the sex. He was a guy after all. But he could go without that because he loved you. He loved your ramblings and the way you worried. He loved your smile and your unending kindness. He loved your shyness and the way you blushed so easily at the simplest fucking compliment. And, god, he was surprised but he loved your hugs; they were so tight and warm. He fucking loved you. He loved you so much that it made it hard to breathe sometimes. You made it hard to breathe. You did that.

And he was terrified one day you'd wake up and realize how beneath you he was. But you never did. He hoped it'd stay that way.

[everythingwasnormalhere]

i don't really wanna do much today so...

what about an analysis of I've Got You, Brother because i wanna rant about it >:3

(i've been thinking about all this a lot since I wrote it lol)

huge spoilers under the cut so please i beg you don't read it till you've finished the fic ;w;

probably the first scene of this fic i thought while knowing i wanted it to appear in it, was the scene after lucas' funeral. a while before that i already had the headcanon of kevin giving kenny that red scarf of his, but that scene, unlike this one, wasn't fully developed when i daydreamed it.

my kenny, slv kenny, has a lot of trauma as a kid, trauma that shapes his personality later on. yet, he's learned he needs to suck it up, not tell anyone - mainly because his uncle taught him so. lucas was gay indeed, stuart got that one right at least, but after he did what he did to kevin, he decided it was too dangerous. kevin would snitch, surely, he was old enough to know it was wrong, he had proven this. kenny was not.

"never tell anyone about this", he had promised, and so kenny never really specified it - loyalty, fear, who knew. but he couldn't help but take kevin's word that lucas was gone, and maybe that's why he slipped. kevin never asked any more questions, kenny never gave him any more answers.

(Brother by Kodaline - the song this fic took its title from - just started playing, and that is incredibly fitting XD)

"“You look like shit” Kenny pointed out. “You should see the other guy” Kevin smiled, sitting next to Kenny."

a fun fact about this scene, is that i thought of it before anything else in this fanfic, yet with a different theme. i was feeling pretty dysphoric, my parents were being transphobic assholes, nothing new, and i said "why not project this onto kenny?". in the original scenario, kenny would come out to his father, or maybe he'd be outed by some reason, and stuart would be no good about it, so kevin would jump in and defend his brother. then, everything would turn out as it does in the fic.

but slv kenny's agab is left ambiguous, and it will stay that way, which makes the original idea lose all its sense. yet, as i wanted to write it and add it to the story, i figured out another thing the fight could've stemmed from, and rolled with it. it being kenny's birthday was just something that came to me as i wrote, but it makes a sensing way for him to receive his parka so all good XD

next scene is probably the closest these two ever went to talking about their feelings. "He wanted me to go with his friends, he didn't want to hang out with me." was a typical occurence by the time they were twelve/thirteen, which is when that happens. kenny had gone to that type of hang outs a few times already, and always felt as if he wasn't welcome there, his presence and his exit equally unnoticed. butters had always the best intention, but are good intentions ever enough? the spot at the rooftop became kenny's favorite place since that night.

kevin isn't too talkative, or at least not slv kevin, but he knows his brother all too well, as shown in the next scene.

i needed it to be from kenny's pov, even if just to show the shock at "Kevin had never hit him sober." - because kevin had hit him drunk, not even just that, but typically kevin was at least a bit tipsy. him being violent yet sober showed the importance of the situation - and also showed how easily kenny would accept kevin becoming stuart 2.0.

it was short before butters ran away from home, and kenny was going through possibly the worst moments of his life till then. it was also the time in which he would kill himself every other day, trying to find a way that stuck. the broship had broken, kenny's home life was as shitty as always, what was the point? "But- Kenny, I can't let you waste your life like that. I'm probably gonna become a poor drunk guy like mom and dad, but you're smart dude. You have a future. Don't throw it away". those words likely saved kenny's life. kevin knows him, but he's too quiet to show it. yet, when he sees his brother in that state? he can't help but try and pull him out of it.

"This was the first time Kevin had seen his brother in weeks" says a lot about the mccormicks, actually. kenny, spending his days out with his friends or stuck in his room. kevin, not coming home until he has to. they had lost each other, grown up enough to stop needing the other as much. yet, kevin's always up to helping kenny out.

their conversation on the couch, just proves how much they really love each other. kenny doesn't really cuddle with anyone besides butters and his siblings, and kevin isn't much of the type to be physically affectionate with pretty much anyone. yet they enjoy being in each other's company, and they trust each other enough for it. "“Fucked him yet?” Kevin half joked." also shows how much kevin really knows his brother - even after they're not that in touch, he's noticed how close butters and kenny really are. he's also proving to kenny how he will not judge, allowing him to open up if he ever wants to, without fearing a reaction like the one their parents would likely have.

("“I love you”, is what Kevin would've said were he more vocal about his feelings. But he wasn't, so he took a sip of his beer and turned up the volume.". fun fact, they never said they love each other, and now you're forced to live with this information :3)

"“Showed up when I died, haven't left ever since” Kenny nonchalantly said, and Kevin shrugged it off". I don't have much to say about this scene, but fuck me if kenny isn't like this. he's sincere with kevin, yet aware he won't be believed, so he doesn't really press it. kevin, meanwhile, is used to his brother saying stuff like that. if kenny had ever told kevin about his curse? i like to believe kevin wouldn't have hesitated to believe everything about it.

aaand we're at the final arc of igyb!!

(after i took a tiny doomscrolling break bc fingers hurt smh)

i think i should first talk about why i did what i did. and that is, killing kevin off.

you see, in most stories and universes where kevin dies, he does it heroically. saving his siblings from their parents' wrath, getting in the way of a gunshot, taking part in a fight - he dies a hero. that's not how real life works. people just... die. without a warning. without a reason. one day they're there, the next they're gone forever.

kenny thought he understood death, mostly after having died so often, but he didn't. kevin's death, it made him realize people just leave forever, not giving any warning, not saying goodbye. human life is such a fragile thing, and he won't waste his stuck in the shithole of a town south park is. he's terrified of losing his friends the way he lost kevin, he's terrified of permanently dying with nobody to remember him.

he was lucky laura offered to take karen in, because otherwise, he probably would have stayed. but he knows, she'd be kept safe, and most importantly, away from their parents.

and, kenny?

he is going to live.

[tsunotarou]

     Urges, Nagi had… urges. At times he wishes he didn't have any urges, cause it's a hassle to search and find something to fulfill said fucking urge. He just finished streaming for twelve hours. What was he doing? Well… he played minecraft for an hour, then spent the rest on XIV doing his dailies, crafting, and weekly resets. In between that he had snacked on a few things; chips, candies, the bento box that Reo had personally made from one of his chefs. Shit like that. What's great about streaming is that nobody really knows what his personal life was. His chat did know that he lived with someone though they didn't know who that exact someone was.

      He'd get asked about Reo all the time. Didn't bother him, not one bit. Fans tend to stay with their idols until a controversial moment appears. Nagi made sure to keep any Reo-related things out of view from his camera. Including the damn toy that was proudly sitting on the nightstand, nearly in frame of said camera.  He'd earn a good portion today, too, promising his viewers that he'll do another subathon if soccer doesn't take all his time. He's still on hiatus. 

       He tripled checked to make sure everything was turned off on his screen; it wouldn't be appropriate if he just got up, stripped out of his clothes then changed into pajamas. He's doing his best to avoid being banned. Nagi perks up at the sound of the door being opened, twisting halfway in his chair to see Reo— walking into his ‘ man cave ‘. “Oh, welcome home, work was okay?” Ever since his boyfriend announced his pregnancy, Nagi's been more attentive? If that was one way to put it. It’s only been a week since that announcement… he was lingering his gaze on his stomach to see if anything would be different. Nope. Flat, toned, not even the smallest amount of chub around the heir’s perfect frame. When he’s bored he looks up things about pregnancy; how men can experience ‘ parental postpartum depression ‘, the birth giver can go through more hardships than the men can. It’s intriguing, he’ll give it that… but he doesn’t think Reo will do anything to risk their newborn child. Neither will he. He has no reason to do anything drastic, why would he? It’s a hassle to risk it all for something inevitable, right? He’s listening to Reo ramble about his day, brown hues fixated on the heir walk around the room that was decorated with their trophies from games, Nagi’s bookcase that was filled with manga and video games. There’s some pictures that were off to the far right side of the room; photos of them visiting England, Paris, others had their friends in it. 

               Reo’s talking about… some shit. His father? No, nobody wants to hear about how Mr. Mikage has his head constantly up his ass. When the day strikes that that old man kicked the bucket, he thinks he’ll propose to Reo right away. Fucked as ever, doing that is borderline psychotic. Maybe that’s too close to comfort. He didn’t care. The quicker the guy’s dead the faster he and Reo can live their lives normally. “ … Reo, “ he spoke up after the heir finished talking, finally taking a glance at him as he spun completely in his chair to face him. Nagi wanted him. Just for a little, he can be selfish without meaning to— it’s not his fault that he’s attracted to nothing else that wasn’t Reo. Reo’s his world, his life, his damn being. One hand lightly rubbed against his left thigh, over the bagged jeans he was wearing,  non-verbally signaling that he wanted the other to come closer.

  “... I want your mouth on me.” Vague. His expression stayed blank, fixated on the expression that would morph over the heir’s perfect face. Watching, waiting. Will he get it? The itch that had to be scratched? Possibly…. Reo’s in a good mood ( or so he thinks ), and he’ll be damned if he gets denied. That’ll be embarrassing. Where was he supposed to put all this pent up frustration? It would be less ‘ romantic ‘ if he outwardly told him that he wants his dick sucked, so…. Nagi takes the softer, ‘ pg-13 approach. ‘   " I'm frustrated. " Coded for: ' i want reo to take care of me. please. '

Being exhausted was such an understatement for the heir. Perhaps the cold, cloudy weather wasn't helping anyone, but Reo just felt downright exhausted after being at the bureau all day. It'd been like that the past few days. Exhausted, worn out --- all of the above. He didn't really remember being this tired after his day at the office, but now? It dragged, BAD. Reo was still just sitting in his car, even after pulling into the car port. Fingers turned the vehicle off yet the young male just continued to sit there for a bit, his arms slowly lowering into his lap. Violet eyes followed suit, looking down at his own hands silently. Soon enough, it's gonna get a bit difficult to see his lap. Let alone seeing where his feet land when walking. But, that was one of the ailments of carrying your child, right? A small smile graced Reo's face as he lazily rubbed his hand over his flat stomach for a moment ; as if he was about to gaslight himself about feeling his child move. " Let's go see what Daddy's been up to... "

After managing his way inside, after locking and arming everything outside, Reo took it upon himself to finally get comfortable. Bag down, coat off, scarf off, shoes off, slippers on, hair down --- all that was left was to shower and get into comfier clothes. But first, he had to check in on his boyfriend. He remembered the other mentioning something about streaming today, so it was only natural for Reo to pop in and see how that went.

" --- Naagi, I'm home. " Perhaps he should have knocked before just walking in on the other, but it was too late. Reo announced his arrival even before getting the door open. He wasn't met with any drastic measures to get him out of the room ; so it was safe to say that his boyfriend was done streaming. Instead, he was met with the other turning towards him --- welcoming him home and asking if work was alright. The gesture made him smile as the heir continued his way into Nagi's little streaming area.

" Yeah, it was alright. Just like any other day. " Reo walked deeper into the room, dragging his feet a bit. " Father had me consult with our multiple marketing agencies so we can plan for the press release at the end of the week. Then he pulled me in for another meeting about our finances, which I've told him multiple times that I have it handled, and--- " As soon as he heard Nagi speak his name, the heir turned his attention towards his boyfriend. Surely he can't blame him for not wanting to hear his rant about his father and work and business management.

" Hm? " He hummed, catching sight of Nagi fully turning towards him now. He had quite the blank expression on his face, which isnt too different from the usual Nagi expression that he wore. However, something about this one seemed... different. Reo cocked an eyebrow, and as soon as he did, Nagi continued. And when he did, violet eyes widened slightly.

I want your mouth on me. The way he said it sent a chill down his spine. Reo took a step forward, following another without realizing. What does he even mean by that? Did he want a kiss or something? No, apparently Nagi was frustrated. Why was he frustrated? Was he frustrated with Reo? Was it something he did or didn't do? Suddenly, Reo's exhaustion was washed away, and was now replaced with uncertainty as his brows knit together.

" --- Frustrated? " Reo frowned a bit, ending up right in front of Nagi's chair. Leaning down, the heir just cupped the other's face and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Hopefully that would make him feel at least a little better? " I'm sorry you're frustrated... Did you have a bad stream or something? " Thumbs brushed over pale cheeks gently. Another kiss was pressed between those brows. Nagi did say he wanted his mouth on him --- so Reo figured he could just litter him with kisses. That's what he wanted, right? " After I shower, I can play a game with you, if you'd like? Or we can watch a movie or something? "