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solarmorrigan · 6 months

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“You know, you’d probably be more comfortable in bed.”

Steve groans. Quietly.

“I’m gonna take that noise to mean, ‘Yes, Eddie, you’re so right, I should take my sick ass to bed!’, to which I am going to say, ‘Thank you, Steve for acknowledging how right I am.’”

If Eddie’s plan is to irritate Steve until he manages to get up off the couch and shamble himself to their bedroom, he’s on the right track.

But the thing is, Eddie is right (unfortunately) – Steve knows he’d be more comfortable in bed. The couch is too short and the cushions are too worn and the seats are just a little too narrow for him to really relax. But at the same time, the flu is trying to murder him, and he’s got a fever, and everything aches, and he doesn’t want to move.

Rather than explaining any of this to Eddie through his sore throat, Steve instead grumbles, “Your impression of me sucks.”

“Well, I’ll work on that while you’re resting,” Eddie drawls.

Steve manages a faintly agreeable-sounding noise and then pulls a throw pillow over his face.

“Steve,” Eddie says.

Steve doesn’t move.

“Steve,” Eddie tries again.

Steve is still not compelled to move.

“Steeeve. Come on.” Eddie reaches out to poke Steve in the side, who belatedly raises a hand to swat him away.

“Don’t wanna move,” Steve mumbles.

“You’re never allowed to call me dramatic again,” Eddie says.

“Mph,” Steve replies.

He hates being sick – really sick, the kind that his body just won’t tolerate pushing through. If he can’t pretend to be well, he feels he has no other recourse but to be dramatic.

“Do you want me to carry you?” Eddie offers. He sounds like he’s trying not to laugh.

Steve snorts. “Yeah, sure.”

“Alright, let’s go,” Eddie declares, and Steve has just enough time to pull the pillow off his face and look up before Eddie is scooping him up off the couch.

“What the fuck!” Steve shouts, arms locking almost instinctively around Eddie’s neck as Eddie gets one arm settled beneath the crook of his knees and the other around his back.

“Relax, we’ll have you in bed in no time,” Eddie says, swinging around to face the living room door with a grunt and trundling forward.

“You’re gonna drop me,” Steve says, winding his arms more tightly around Eddie’s neck; he’s pretty sure no one has picked him up or carried him anywhere since he was maybe eight years old.

“Ye of little faith,” Eddie replies, only slightly strained.

“Me of exactly the right amount of faith, which isn’t a whole damn lot, no,” Steve insists, ducking forward when Eddie lists a little too close to one of the hallway walls.

“You’ll be fine,” Eddie says. “I’m not gonna drop you.”

They reach the bedroom door and, as he’d promised, Eddie doesn’t drop Steve.

He does, however, whack Steve’s head on the doorjamb.

And then he drops Steve.

It doesn’t end up being much of a fall; Eddie only loses his hold on Steve’s legs, and with Steve’s death grip around Eddie’s neck, he mostly just lands awkwardly on his feet before tumbling down onto his ass with a thud and a quiet, “Ow.”

Eddie is on his knees beside him in an instant. “Holy shit, I hit your head.”

“Yeah, thanks for that. My head was the one part of me that didn’t hurt,” Steve grumbles, rubbing behind his ear, where his skull had connected with the doorframe.

“Oh my god, I hit your head,” Eddie says again.

Steve blinks at him. “Yeah, we established that. Did you hit your head, too, or–”

“Shit, shit, are you dizzy? Is your vision blurry? Wait, fuck, you’re not wearing your contacts – are things blurrier than normal?” Eddie places his hands on either side of Steve’s face and stares into his eyes, as if he’ll be able to tell that way if Steve’s brain has finally been knocked loose. “Do you feel anything, like, swelling? Bleeding? Leaking?”

“I’m pretty sure you can’t feel that sort of thing happening,” Steve says, and Eddie’s face crumples.

“Shit, you’re right, I should take you to the doctor,” Eddie declares, moving to stand up.

Steve grabs him by the arm and pulls him back down. “Eddie, I’m fine.”

“No, your brain could be leaking or some shit, and you’re gonna have, like, an aneurism, and you’re gonna die, and it’s going to be all my fault because I hit your head and I killed you,” Eddie rambles, shaking his own head.

Steve isn’t sure if any of that is even correct, but he’s willing to bet Robin has been sharing her worries about Steve’s head trauma with Eddie. “That’s not–”

“Your head is the one part of you we really can’t afford to hit!”

“As opposed to the rest of me?” Steve asks, one eyebrow raised.

“If it comes down to it, yeah!” Eddie bursts out. “Do you even know how many times you’ve hit your head?”

“Are you asking because you don’t know, or because you’re afraid I don’t remember?” Steve asks drily. “Because you weren’t even there for most of those times, man.”

“It’s not funny,” Eddie says, and he’s definitely trying to sound stern, but he’s verging a little bit on whiny; he seems like he’s starting to calm down, since Steve has so far failed to collapse and die.

“Okay, then, seriously, Eddie – I’m fine,” Steve promises. “You didn’t even hit me that hard, it barely hurts.”

“Steve, I love you, but you have a severely skewed sense of pain and should not be trusted to rate it on your own,” Eddie says.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Fine. Here,” he grabs one of Eddie’s hands and pulls it around to where his head had hit the jamb, “feel. Are there any bumps? Cuts? Anything seem out of place?”

With a frown of deep concentration, Eddie runs his fingers gently from the top of Steve’s skull to the base, occasionally pressing a little harder, but never hard enough to hurt.

“Good?” Steve asks, once Eddie’s had a minute to feel for himself.

Eddie’s shoulders slump. “I guess.”

“Ah, don’t be disappointed. Maybe it’ll be a concussion next time,” Steve offers.

Eddie shoots him a wildly unimpressed glare. “That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny,” Steve decides, but he takes Eddie’s hand from his head and brings it around to press a kiss to the back of it.

There’s definitely a smile ticking at the corners of Eddie’s mouth, but Steve doesn’t point it out.

“Do you want some ice, or something?” Eddie asks, and Steve shakes his head.

“What I want is to walk over to the bed and lie down, and I want you to come with me,” Steve says. “And in an hour, I want you to bring me more Tylenol and some of that really good tea that Joyce sent over. Deal?”

This time, Eddie does smile. “I think I can handle that.”

Steve smiles back. “Good.”

They get themselves situated, Eddie at Steve’s back with an arm slung over him, a single blanket pulled up to their waists (“Pretty sure you still have a fever, sweetheart,” Eddie had insisted. “You’re gonna cook yourself to death if you cover up.”), and in the dim, sleepy light filtering through their curtains, Steve presses back further into Eddie’s chest.

“I like that you care so much,” he says quietly, and Eddie squeezes him a little more tightly.

He shifts enough that he can press his lips to the spot where Steve had bumped his head. “Always will,” he murmurs, and hell if Steve doesn’t believe him.

[Prompt: Bridal carries]

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #eddiesteve #pretty sure steve's method is not medically approved for testing for head trauma but he's fine #solar wrote

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charliemwrites · 5 months

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Awooooooo!

Content: Voyeurism, Dog Urination, Implied Non-Con Touching

Your dog is weird. Just.. just weird. Like, all dogs are weird. They have their quirks and their oddities, silly babies in fluffy bodies.

Johnny though…

He snuggles up in your bed every night; you don’t even bother trying to kick him out. He’s presses up tight against you, head almost on your pillow. Have to start sleeping in a shirt because one too many unfortunately placed cold nose bumps…. Yeah. But that’s fine. The fuzzy space heater is worth it.

(So what if you sort of wake up sometimes and half-dream its skin you’re snuggled up to. If you imagine a more human rasp to the quiet snores by your ear. If the tongue on your cheek is softer and smaller than you’re used to….

Your dating life has been dry for some time.)

Johnny pees in every room of your house at least once, but that’s not entirely surprising - he’s an intact male, after all. (Something you’re trying to, heh, fix. Though the appointment mysteriously keeps getting moved or cancelled.) thankfully, though, once he’s “marked his territory” he starts asking to go outside.

And that’s where the weirdness begins.

The first time you let him out off leash, he shoots off into the woods and only returns once he’s done. You panic, feel so stupid and irresponsible, near tears by the time he gets back. When he sees you upset, say on the porch steps, he darts to your side and leans into you until you calm down.

You stop worrying so much about his little “trips”. Means you dont have to clean up after him to keep the yard tidy after all.

The first time he bounds off into the woods and doesn’t come back after a few minutes, you almost go searching. But.., but well he’s a good boy. An hour later he comes back, scratching at the door.

You’re not sure what he’s up to and it makes you anxious. Don’t like the idea of an “outdoor” dog. All of yours have been in-home pets kept in sight at all times. You’re scared Johnny’s going to get hurt or bitten or hit by a car.

But he always comes back healthy whole.

One hour turns into two, then three. Entire mornings, only returning in the evening to climb into bed. Eventually a whole day. You have someone install a doggy door big enough for Johnny to slip through so that he can come and go as he pleases.

You get used to having a pet that’s only around sometimes, though you sniffle that you miss him when he’s gone. As if understanding, he’ll always lick at you, comforting.

The other weird thing - he demands to climb into bed while you’re doing “self care”. Again, dogs don’t get human social boundaries. He’s allowed on the bed so why is it that he wouldn’t be allowed up even if it’s not bedtime? It’s understandable dog logic, even if you have to stop the first several times it happens.

Keeping him out isn’t an option. Even if you manage to shut the bedroom door on him before he wriggles inside, he makes such a ruckus. Barking, howling, knocking over the trash and scratching at the door. You almost step directly into a puddle of pee once.

You just keep the lights off, close your eyes, and try to ignore the odd brush of fur or gust of air from his nose. Pretend he’s not there at all; and not staring the way he tends to.

Not getting off just isn’t an option. You make your peace with your dog too dumb to even turn away.

(You also learn very quickly to wash your toys as soon as you’re done. Can’t even wait to catch your breath. Calling him nasty makes his tail wag. You know it’s not reasonable to think he’s doing it on purpose.)

“Johnny, drop it!”

Instead of doing that, he drops his front half low, a lacy black pair of underwear in his teeth. He snatched it right out of your laundry basket while you were trying to start the washer.

“I’m going to turn you into a pair of boots. Put those down!”

Chasing a giant wolf-dog for your panties is ill-advised but what are you gonna do? Let him shred your underwear?

“I wanted to wear those out tonight, you bastard!”

You’re supposed to have a date. At this rate, you won’t even be able to shower, never mind get ready. Johnny’s been a nuisance all day, ever since you got off the phone with your mom this morning, updating her about your life and plans for the evening.

Determined, you give up and go to finish the laundry - only to hear a crash and a yelp. Johnny’s knocked over the mirror and stepped in the glass.

“Oh, baby boy,” you groan. “Dammit, John-Bon.”

You text your date for a rain check, then call ahead for the emergency vet. Huh… your first aid kit is much better stocked than you remember.

#thoughts™️#cod #my writing #fanfiction #dark fic #reader fic

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flowerfan2 · 1 year

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Steve has asked to see Eddie in the hospital four times over the past week, and each time Wayne says no. He’s not mean about it, more like perplexed, and increasingly annoyed.

When Steve tries to sneak in when Wayne’s not there, a nurse kicks him out, kindly at first, and then with a threat to call security. He’s not family, and Wayne hasn’t left permission for him to be there.

Steve doesn’t think anyone’s being intentionally cruel, he’s just a teenager who happened to meet Eddie a week ago, he doesn’t have any right to see him. But he did carry him out of hell, and he would really like to see how he’s doing.

Steve’s got injuries of his own, and his head hasn’t stopped throbbing in days, and he hasn’t been sleeping much. But he still wants to see Eddie. Needs to see him. Because sometime in that handful of moments fighting monsters together, he thinks he fell in love.

This seems crazy, he knows that. People don’t fall in love so quickly, not normal people. The fact that Eddie is a guy makes it all a little out of left field, he knows that too. But Steve’s miles past exhausted, and sore with aching, and somehow the thing his brain has latched on to, that will make things just a little bit better, is if he can see Eddie and make sure he’s okay.

Because he’s pretty sure that Eddie feels the same. He can’t be positive – it was only a handful of moments, a few meaningful looks and a phrase or two that he could well have misunderstood. But he doesn’t think so. And he needs Eddie to know he’s still with him, he’s thinking about him, he’s here for him.

Steve takes a new approach with Wayne, showing up every day at the same time and quickly saying it’s okay if Eddie isn’t ready for visitors, please just let him know I came and give him this. This ranges from a brightly colored get well card, to a comic book, to a tape player and a tape of one of Eddie’s favorite bands. It takes the pressure off of Wayne to keep saying no, and hopefully at the same time lets Wayne – and Eddie -- know he’s not going anywhere.

Two weeks after Steve dragged Eddie out of the Upside Down, he arrives at Eddie’s hospital door with a worn copy of The Hobbit. He hands it to Wayne and says his piece, but as he turns to leave, Wayne calls out for him to wait.

“This is one of Eddie’s favorites,” Wayne says slowly. “But I don’t think he’s up for reading yet.”

“Oh, of course, I’m sorry-” Steve says, embarrassment flooding his cheeks.

“Maybe you could read it to him?”

Steve freezes, his heart pounding in his chest.

Wayne hands Steve the book and claps him on the shoulder. “I’m gonna go get some coffee.”

A few minutes later, Steve is curled up on the bed with Eddie, pretending to read to him while Eddie dozes in his arms. Turns out he wasn’t the only one falling in love while fighting monsters.

#Steddie #Steddie fic #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Stranger Things fic #Stranger Things #Wayne Munson

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waitimcomingtoo · 1 year

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Isn’t it Just So Pretty

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader

Synopsis: you’re no longer sure of how much acting you’re doing when pretending to be in love with Peeta during the games

Masterlist

After hearing the announcement that two victors can go home if they’re from the same district, Peeta was the one thing on your mind. You knew he must be alive since you hadn’t seen his picture in the sky yet. And if he was alive, he must be by a source of water. You rushed to the lake, not caring how much noise you were making, and looked everywhere. Suddenly, something grabbed your ankle.

“Here to finish me off, sweetheart?”

“Peeta!” You exclaimed in surprise, not caring who heard you. You helped dig him out of the mud and moss he had buried himself under before pulling him into a tight hug.

“Oh my God. Peeta. Peeta.” You breathed in relief as you stroked his muddy hair. You heard Peeta sigh happily in your ear and melted into your touch.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” You told him as you cupped his face to look at him.

“You have?” Peeta asked in skeptical surprise.

“Didn’t you hear the announcement? We could both go home.”

“So you came back for me?” A smile tugged at Peeta’s lips.

“Of course I did.” You shrugged like it was obvious. To you, it was. But to Peeta, it was never obvious that someone would take care of him.

“Oh.“ Peeta smiled shyly and nodded his head. “Well, thank you.”

“Of course. Now let’s get you cleaned up.”

You fully pulled Peeta out of the mud and gently dragged him towards the river. Once you were hidden behind some bushes, you assessed his wounds.

“What happened?” You asked once you saw the gash on Peeta’s leg.

“Cato’s sword. He was mad that I tricked him.”

“Tricked him? How?”

“I purposefully led him away from you after your dropped the tracker jacket nest on us. Once he figured it out, he got me.” Peeta explained. You looked at him with great sympathy that before returning your attention to his wound. It was bad, much worse than anything you had yourself. And the fact that it happened because he was trying to protect you made you feel even worse.

“Is it bad?” Peeta asked when you hadn’t said anything for a while.

“No.” You lied. “Does it hurt?”

“No.” He lied back. You looked into his eyes and shook your head a little.

“You’re lying.”

“So are you.” He replied. You felt your face heat in embarrassment and nodded again.

“We need to keep this clean. I’m gonna have to wash your clothes.” You changed the subject.

“Okay.” Peeta agreed. You helped him lean his head back and washed the mud out of his hair until it was blonde again. Once that was clean, you moved on to his clothes. You shyly looked into his eyes and he nodded his head, giving you permission to tug off his shirt. You washed it and left it out to dry on a rock before returning to Peeta. He looked so helpless lying there on the rock you had laid him down on. He looked so vulnerable and gentle, not posing a threat to anyone. He didn’t deserve to be here. No one did, but especially not Peeta. He was a lover and a baker. He shouldn’t be bleeding out on a rock. You knelt down beside Peeta and he looked up at you with his gentle, puppy dog eyes. He was completely at your mercy now and you both knew it.

“Remember, we’re madly in love, so it’s all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it.” Peeta said to break the silence. You felt your breath hitch in your throat from the unexpected sentiment and before you knew it, you were leaning in to kiss his cheek. Peeta’s face heated up under your lips and when you pulled away, he looked just as surprised as you were over what had happened.

“Um, I should probably finish washing your clothes.” You stumbled over your words a little and refused to look Peeta in the eyes. You undid his button and zipper and started to tug his pants down.

“Wait.” He gulped before you could pull his pants over his wound. You stopped and looked into his eyes, feeling the same anxiety he was.

“I’ll go slow, okay?”

“Okay. Please be careful.” He said in a whiny voice. You couldn’t help but smile a little and nodded your head.

“I will. I promise.”

You tugged Peeta’s pants the rest of the way off and got a full view of his wound for the first time. It was much worse than it had looked through the rip in his pants. You felt helpless as you stared at it, knowing there was not much you could do at this point.

“How bad is it?” Peeta asked you. You stared at his wound, unblinking, until you felt tears come to your eyes.

“Sweetheart?” He asked in a soft voice. You finally looked up at him just a tear rolled down your face.

“How about that kiss?” He mouthed, making you burst out laughing. You cupped his face and pulled him into a long kiss to keep him calm.

“It’s not that bad. You’ll be okay. I promise.” You told him once you pulled away.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I never do. I’m gonna go wash these. Stay here.”

“I don’t have much choice, but okay. I’ll wait here and keep the lookout.” Peeta replied, making you laugh. You were about to leave with his pants when you noticed the hem of his boxers. They were filthy, caked with mud, and definitely teaming with infection. You knew they had to be washed, but that would leave Peeta with nothing. Peeta followed your gaze and connected the dots.

“You need my boxers, don’t you?” He asked. You avoided eye contact as you slipped off your backpack and handed it to him.

“Here. You can cover yourself with this.”

“I don’t care if you see me.” He chuckled.

“Maybe you can take them off and I’ll just close my eyes?”

“Look, I know it’s awkward, but I can barely move. There’s no way I can get these off by myself.” Peeta admitted. You knew he was right, but you were not prepared to see a naked man for the first time. Peeta quickly remembered the star crossed lovers plot and cleared his throat.

“Plus, it’s not like you’ve never seen me naked before.” He followed up, looking into your eyes to signal you to play along.

“Right.” You quickly nodded. You got Peeta’s boxers off as quickly as you could with as little eye contact as possible and ran away with them once they were off. You washed them and left them out to dry, giving him your jacket to cover himself in the mean time. Once his clothes were dry enough, you carefully dressed him. You then applied leaves to his wound the way Rue had taught you.

“Okay. We’re in good shape. But I want to get you somewhere less open. This is the biggest water source so the Careers could be back any day now.”

“How are we gonna move? I can’t walk.” Peeta reminded you.

“It’s okay. I’ll carry you.” You shrugged. Peeta laughed a little and held up his arms like a toddler. You gently pulled him off the ground and scooped him up so that you could carry him. He was pretty light since he hadn’t been eating and you had gained some muscle while training for the games. You carried Peeta through the woods as quietly as possible.

“I bet all the people in 12 are laughing at us.” Peeta said after a minute, making you laugh.

“Yeah? How come?”

“Because you’re the big strong hero and I’m the damsel in distress that needs to be carried.”

“Who cares what they think? We’re doing what we have to do to survive.” You shrugged and continued walking. Peeta went quiet for a minute as he thought back to the kiss you’d shared a few hours ago. It was real to him, but he didn’t know what it meant for you.

“Right.” He said after a beat of silence. You could tell something was on his mind but decided not to push it. Instead, you carried him to a nearby cave and gently laid him down inside. You let Peeta rest while you covered the entrance of the cave with leaves to keep yourselves hidden. You then returned to Peeta’s side and brushed the hair off his forehead.

“Are you comfortable?”

“As comfortable as I could be in this situation.” Peeta said through a strained laugh.

“Then we should get some sleep.” You suggested.

You pulled your sleeping bag out of your backpack and helped Peeta into it. You climbed in on his good side and cuddled into him.

“This is nice.” Peeta said quietly. “I never thought I’d ever be this close to you.”

You smiled and draped an arm over his torso to pull him in. It didn’t take him long to fall asleep, but you stayed awake all night and kept eyes on the entrance of the cave. You were exhausted by the time he woke up the next morning, but you didn’t let him know that. You put a hand on his forehead and felt that it was slightly cooler than the dah before.

“I’m gonna go get you some water.” You told him and tried to get up.

“Wait.” He caught your hand, making you stop.

“Please don’t leave.” He said in a soft voice. His doe eyes were staring into yours pleadingly and it took all your strength to say no.

“You need water.” You insisted. “I’ll just be right outside.”

“Please don’t go.” Peeta whined, sounding like he might start to cry. You knew he’d been lying by the river for days, bleeding out and knowing he could be killed any minute. Now that he was finally with you, it probably terrified him to be left alone again. You felt sympathetic towards Peeta and leaned in to kiss him again. You let it linger for as long as he needed.

“I’ll be right back.” You whispered once you pulled away.

You left the cave, gathered some water for Peeta, and purified it before heading back to him. When you reached the cave, a parachute was waiting for you outside. You gasped and grabbed it before running inside. He had fallen asleep again in your absence so you bent down to kiss him awake.

“Peeta, Peeta, Peeta. Wake up.” You said as you peppered kissed all over his face until he woke up.

“What? What happened?” Peeta asked through a yawn.

“Look what Haymitch sent you.” You smiled and presented him the parachute.

“Food?” Peeta asked hopefully.

“Uh huh. Soup.” You nodded and got the food ready for him.

“Wow. My first parachute.” Peeta smiled to himself. The parachute wasn’t really sent to Peeta. You had made that up because when you told him Haymitch had sent you a few things, he seemed sad that he hadn’t received anything. You wanted to cheer him up, so you told a little white lie.

“How are you feeling?” You asked as you helped him sit up.

“A little better. I think my fevers breaking.”

“That’s great. I would love to get you to eat something.”

“I’m really not hungry.” Peeta admitted, making you freeze. Not having an appetite despite not eating in days was not a good sign.

“Please? Just a bite?”

“No. If only there was something you could do to persuade me.” Peeta sighed, making you laugh endearingly. You leaned in to kiss Peeta and he met you halfway. He kissed you for as long as you let him before pulling away.

“Suddenly, I’m starving.” Peeta said, making you laugh. You carefully spoon fed him the soup and felt his forehead when you were done.

“Damn it.” You hissed.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re burning up again. I thought you were getting better.” You started to panic and sat back on your knees to think. Your mother or sister would know exactly what to do here, but you didn’t.

“It’s okay. Maybe I’m just warm from the sleeping bag.” Peeta tried to calm you down.

“Maybe. Let me check your leg.” You checked his leg and just as you suspected, it looked worse.

“Damn it!” You screamed and got off the floor. You went over to the wall of the cave and pressed your forehead against it as you cried in frustration.

“We need medicine. Not soup. You won’t get better without medicine. Why isn’t anyone sending medicine?” You cried and tugged at your hair.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Peeta said calmly.

“It’s not okay!” You shouted. “The leaves aren’t working. Why aren’t they working?”

“Maybe the infection is just too deep. It might’ve been a lost cause before you even found me.” Peeta voiced his deepest concern, one that you both shared.

“No. There’s no way you survived this far to get wiped out by an infection. You survived Cato’s blade. I’m not gonna let you die over the infection that came after it.”

Peeta stayed quiet as you paced back and forth and tried to come up with a plan.

“We just need more sponsors. We need them to send us medicine so that you can get better. What can we do to get their attention?” You asked him.

“I think we’ve done everything already.” Peeta said regretfully.

“Then I’ll… I’ll- um. Uh….” You trailed off when no ideas came to mind.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what to do. I can’t fix this. I can’t fix you.” You started to freak out and dropped down to your knees. You buried your face in your hands and felt your entire body give up. You banged your fists on the ground in frustration before letting out a guttural sob.

“It’s okay.” Peeta assured you. “You’ve done as much as you could.”

“But it’s not enough.”

“It’s enough. It’s more than enough.” Peeta replied. He felt helpless as he watched you cry and tried to come up with a way to distract you from the inevitable doom he was facing.

“You know, I remember the first time I saw you.” He said, catching your attention.

“You do?” You sniffled and looked up at him.

“Uh huh. It was the first day of kindergarten. My dad pointed you out and said, “see that girl? I was gonna marry her mother.” He still seemed jaded by it after all those years. I watched you walk into school and ran in after you.”

“Your dad and my mom? Is that true?” You smiled a little and crawled over to him.

“Apparently they dated before she met your father. My dad used to grumble about the coal miner with the golden voice whenever he and my mom would fight.”

“Did that happen a lot?” You asked sympathetically as Peeta reached up to wipe your tears.

“My brothers and I used to try to separate them. He’d hit her. Then he’d hit us. Then we’d be silent for a few days. And then, it was like it never happened.”

“Until it happened again?” You assumed.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Until it happened again.”

“I’m sorry, Peeta. I didn’t know you had it so bad.” You frowned and laid down on his chest.

“It’s not your fault. You’ve got your own troubles. Don’t worry about mine.” He said as he rubbed his hand up and down your back. You stayed with your head over his heartbeat for a while as you calmed down.

“I’m surprised you turned out the way you are.” You said after a minute.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re so kind. But your home life wasn’t kind you. I wonder where you get it from.”

“I don’t know. Maybe that’s just me.”

“Yeah. Maybe that’s just you.” You smiled and looked up at him. Peeta didn’t look at you, though. He had a far off look in his eyes as if he was thinking of something he couldn’t put to words.

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this anymore. It’ll be awkward when you go home.” You said to change the subject.

“I’m not going home.” He laughed softly. There was no self pity in his voice. He wasn’t trying to make you guilty. He genuinely believed that and had already accepted it.

“Peeta.” You said warningly.

“It’s okay. I know it. You know it. Even my parents knew it the day I left. I’ve said goodbye to them. They’re in the past now.” Peeta shrugged. He looked down at you and brushed some hair that had come loose from your braid off your forehead.

“All I see is you now.” He said softly. You stared at him in silence, never being good with words. You had so much you wanted to say to him, but the way he was looking at you made your mind go blank.

“After that first day that my dad pointed you out, I always looked at you. I remember the first day of school when the teacher asked if anyone knew the valley song. And your hand shot straight up. I followed you home that day. And every day after that.” Peeta recalled as he stared into your eyes.

“I didn’t know that.” You smiled softly.

“I used to watch you hunt from the bakery window.” He continued. “You were usually with Gale. But sometimes you’d go alone and I’d wonder what would happen if went outside and asked to go with you.”

“Why? So you could hunt?” You laughed in surprise.

“So I could be with you.” He said simply.

“Peeta.” You smiled guiltily. Peeta looked at you for long time before reaching up to touch your braid. He held it in his hands as if it was solid gold.

“I should’ve told you how I felt before the games. I feel so stupid for waiting until we were on opposing sides of a death match to tell you how much I care about you.”

“We’re not on opposing sides.” You shook your head.

“There’s only one winner.”

“I know. That doesn’t put us on opposing sides.” You told him. You stared into his eyes for a moment and reached out to touch his face.

“Nothing could.” You whispered. No matter how much it hurt him, Peeta sat up so that he could cup your face and kiss you. You kissed him back and wished you could close the curtains and shut the world out from this kiss. Even though the romance meant you would get more sponsors, that didn’t matter to you anymore. You knew the way you were feeling for him wasn’t an act anymore. You felt genuine love and you needed him to know that.

“I can’t lose you.” You pulled away to tell him.

“You won’t. Being here with you like this is enough to make me live through anything.” Peeta said as he rolled your broad between his fingers.

“I wish they weren’t watching. I wish it was just us.” You whispered and felt your eyes begin to water. Peeta looked you up and down and a doubtful look crossed his face.

“Do you?” He asked. He wasn’t fully skeptical, just hesitant in believing you. You nodded your head and Peeta seemed to believe you.

“Then it is just us.” He said simply. You couldn’t help but smile before leaning down to kiss home once more.

“I wish I knew how you felt before the games.” You whispered against his lips.

“It wouldn’t have mattered.”

“Yes it would’ve. We could’ve been like this. But safe.”

“You wouldn’t have liked me back. I had nothing to offer you. Nothing you needed, any way. You’re only thinking you would’ve liked me back because I don’t have any competition here.” Peeta said, again with no self pity on his voice. These were just things he knew to be true. And maybe they once were. But as you stared into his eyes now, you knew it wasn’t the truth anymore. You knew you loved him.

“You don’t have any competition anywhere.” You said softly.

“You’re just saying that.” He said with a disbelieving roll of his eyes.

“I’m not.” You insisted. You turned around to look at the camera you knew was behind you before leaning down to whisper in Peeta’s ear.

“I love you.”

When you pulled away, Peeta was watching your face very carefully. He was trying to see if you were just deceiving the cameras or actually professing your love for him. He looked so hopeful that he might cry if it turned out to be the former.

“Real or not real?” He asked, making you smile.

“Real.” You assured him. Peeta let his guard down and finally broke into the smile he’d been holding in. He tilted his head up so that you’d kiss him but pulled away a little just before your lips could touch.

“Promise?” He whispered.

“Promise.” You replied before pressing your lips to his.

#peeta mellark fluff #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark fanfiction #peeta mellark angst #peeta mellark x you #peeta mellark fanfic #peeta my beloved #peeta x reader #thg peeta

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dazednmatthews · 27 days

Text

neighbor!chris x reader: fight night (part eleven point five)

a/n: surprise!!! everyone say thank you cherrie :p

if someone asked y/n how she was feeling ten seconds ago, her answer would’ve been amazing.

in those last ten seconds however, between the sixth, no seventh.. maybe eighth shot glass her and nick had slammed back down on to the bar top, she had been faced with temptation at its finest.

amber, the same bitch who was the cause of the unwavering heartbreak y/n had been facing for the last two weeks, was standing in the corner of the bar with two other girls. she hadn’t noticed y/n yet, didn’t even know that her ass was five seconds away from kissing the ground.

“i hate how good alcohol tastes after the first four drinks,” nick sighs happily, flagging the bartender down once again and putting two drink orders for him and his friend in.

“mhm.” y/n isn’t listening in the slightest, having an inner tug of war with the angel and devil sat on her shoulders. she wanted to go up and sock the bitch, but she also knew that nothing good could come from that.

“you are so not listening to me. who are we looking at-“ nick, who finally notices his best friend’s aloofness, turns his head. once his eyes connect with the source of y/n’s silent rage, they widen.

“no way that bitch is here right now.” he scoffs, sliding the new drink in front of her.

“i really want to hit that bitch.”

nick hums in agreement for her. “i know you do. but let’s maybe not start a riot in this bar right now.”

and with that, y/n really tries to let it go. she really tries to sip her drink and keep it pushing. but as soon as she’s about to turn away, amber’s eyes meet hers and her face twists into the nastiest look she could muster.

and with that, y/n is whipping her phone out and sending a preliminary text to chris, because she knows how this is about to go.

“oh no, y/n—“ nick starts, but she cuts him off. “stay here.”

nick has only seen her this mad maybe twice, so the ferocity in her tone roots him to his spot. he watches closely and very drunk from afar though, making sure he can see her at all times just in case.

amber turns in her seat, watching y/n approach. the sneer on her face is lethal, and if y/n was anyone else, she might just be afraid.

too bad she’s not.

“amber.” the girl says, trying to keep her rage at bay. “horrible to see you as always.”

“yeah, same to you, y/n.” the way she says the name makes y/n’s blood boil.

it’s quiet for a second. the two girls amber is with are looking nervously from girl to girl with bated breath. everyone in a 5 foot radius can tell this is a hostile situation.

“i heard you had a lot to say to chris about me,” y/n smiles sarcastically. “anything you’d care to share?”

the other girl shrugs. “not really much to say about a slut that thinks it okay to steal another girls boyfriend.”

a laugh forces it’s way out of y/n’s chest. “boyfriend is a bit of an exaggeration don’t you think?” y/n taps her chin, pretending to think. “last i heard, you were a desperate sneaky link that got dumped by someone who gave you a boundary you didn’t like. how sad.”

amber’s mouth drops. “excuse me?”

y/n, against her better judgement, steps forward. “i also heard that i’m supposed be watching my back. for what exactly?” she raises an eyebrow. “i’m right here. what’s gonna happen, amber?”

the taunt makes the girl’s cheeks go red, but she stays silent. so y/n continues to talk her shit. “next time you think you’re big and bad enough to text my man talking shit about me or feel comfortable enough to talk crazy to him, i’ll make you regret it.”

“is that a threat?”

y/n shakes her head. “a promise, actually.”

amber kicks off the wall, ducking her head slightly to get in y/n’s face. “you think you’re cute, huh?” her eyes are gleaming. y/n can feel the anger rising, her vision starting to blur at the edges. she’s on thin ice, she thinks, blowing a breath through her lips. she clenches her fingers around the drink in her hand.

“think you’re some big prize just because chris stopped being a whore long enough to decide you’re more interesting than you’re worth? chris will get bored of you, eventually, just like he always does.” amber’s eyes are frenzied. she looks like she’s about to snap, so naturally, y/n goes for the kill.

while shaking her head, y/n sucks her teeth. “maybe that would’ve bothered me three weeks ago, but things are different now. just like chris told you, me and you are not the same.” y/n sends a deadly smirk her way. “i don’t have to lie about anything to get a boyfriend. i would never have to make up stories about a guy because i couldn’t accept the truth. i would never purposefully try to ruin someone’s happiness because i’m a pathetic, lonely bitch.”

y/n wouldn’t say she’s a fighter exactly. she’s known for her snark and her sass, but she wouldn’t explicitly say that she likes to fight. being so good with her words, she believes that only in extremities do situations need to escalate to being physical.

this is one of those times.

the second the words come out her mouth, amber is launching her drink into y/n’s face. as the liquid settles on her skin and in her hair, she lets out a strangled noise, taking a second to finish the drink in her own hand, vaguely registering her best friends “oh fuck no!”, before she’s swinging her fist so fast, amber has no time to defend herself.

across the room, nick is firing texts to chris at the speed of light, watching in proud admiration as y/n is hurling punches that he doesn’t doubt for a second feel like bricks. he’d been on the receiving end once or twice and that bitch can swing.

he knows his friend is fine, considering amber is only screaming, crying and throwing the weakest hits he’d ever seen. it’s only when he sees a security guard grab y/n a little too aggressively for his liking is he shoving his phone in his pocket and running up to the chaos in front of him.

“get the fuck off of her!”

while all this is happening, chris and matt have parked the car and are somewhat running to the entrance. chris can hear yelling and chairs scraping against the floor and nick’s incessant “fuck you, fuck you, fuck you” chant all the way at the front.

he shoves through the crowd, not listening to a security guard still asking for ID despite the madness.

matt and him exchange a look as they see both nick and y/n in the middle of the scuffle. they separate immediately and despite wanting to laugh a little bit at the sight of his girl absolutely beating the shit out of his old… whatever, he doesn’t.

he grabs y/n by the waist, yanking her back and throwing her over his shoulder, one hand at the bottom of her ass, shielding the hem of her dress from the room.

“what the fu- chris put me down!”

she’s kicking and hitting his back as he makes a beeline for the exit, but his hold only tightens. “no can do, ali.”

y/n only grumbles, not amused by his joke. once they’re all the way back at the car, chris releases her, caging her body between himself and the car.

“stupid fucking bitch. throwing her drink in my fucking face.” her fury is palpable. there’s a few small scratches on her neck, but other than that, she’s basically unscathed. not that he doubted her for a second.

y/n is still angrily rambling while chris runs his hands through her hair, smoothing down her dress as well. when he’s finished, she looks up at him, and he smirks. “got it all out of your system?”

she shakes her head. “i could use another round or two.”

he laughs, bright and full. “i’m sure you could. she definitely can’t though.”

before she can start cursing again, chris cups her face. “have i ever told you that you’re incredibly sexy when you’re mad?”

y/n calms slightly, finally smiling a little. she rolls her eyes shoving his chest. “you think i’m sexy no matter what.”

“guilty.”

he kisses her then, slow and sweet. she melts into him fully, grabbing onto his jacket for support. the moment is tender regardless of the circumstances around it. but then, in all her drunk distractedness, y/n slips her tongue into his mouth and there’s a tangible shift.

not too much can happen, much to chris’ disappointment though, because matt and nick can be heard about ten feet away.

“i don’t give a fuck, matt! i wasn’t just going to let that big bitch grab her like that!”

“i get it nick.” matt says, exasperatedly, “but you literally cannot be going around starting bar brawls.”

“oh well,” nick looks ahead then, noticing his brother and best friend. “y/n! we won that shit so bad.”

y/n laughs, nodding her head. she looks back at chris, who of course is already looking down at her with that special look in his eyes.

“yeah,” she says, secret smile on her lips. “i’m definitely feeling like a winner tonight.”

#chris sturniolo texts #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #sturniolo edit #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo texts #nick sturniolo texts #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo x reader #neighbor!chris

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dumplingsjinson · 7 months

Text

List of random dialogue prompts (pt. 2)

“If you felt want and longing the way I did — the way I still do — I promise you’d be driven fucking mad.”

“I wanted the thrill of the chase more than I wanted you.”

“You really couldn’t have been any more obvious.” “That’s because I didn’t have anything to hide. I was being obvious, because I needed you to know, without a doubt, that I love you.”

“This is literally the worst moment for me to be saying this but considering how we could die at any second, I need to get this off my chest before I become buried six feet under, without a chance to say any of this to you: I love you. I’ve loved you since we were kids. I’ve loved you every second of my life; from the moment when I knew what loving someone really meant.”

“I kinda knew I lost all feelings for you when I realised I didn’t want to communicate with you about the problems that were happening between us. I became complaisant.”

“Loving you is as easy as overthinking everything.”

“It’s… easy with you. Nice. I don’t have to be someone else to impress you, because I know you love me for me.”

“There are parts of me I’d never thought I’d show to anyone else, but then… You came along, and for some reason, you made me want to be honest with you; bare my soul to you.”

“So what in the hell are we? I’m not doing this unless we’re on the same page.”

“Please don’t tell me we’re nothing to you… That I mean nothing after everything’s that happened.”

“You’re my emotional support human, and I love you so, so much.”

“If you ever need me, I’ll be right here. Just as I’ve always been.”

“I’d let you break my heart, if it means I’d get to have you for even a day.”

“You make me feel like dancing in the pouring rain wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”

“You’re astoundingly unhealthy for me, but do I care? No, because I wouldn’t have fallen if I cared, especially when I’m someone who’s usually so careful with whom I give my heart to.”

“…I didn’t drunk call you. It wasn’t a drunk call. I called you, perfectly sober.”

“You’re someone I want to tell things to.”

“What’s more important to me is that I’m your last love.”

“This… This hurts me more than it hurts you.”

“Falling in love wasn’t on the agenda.” “Do you mean falling in love with me out of all people wasn’t on the agenda?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’m kind of in love?”

“…I want all of you. On top, under, whatever — I don’t care, I just want you.”

“Maybe I can help you forget about them.”

“It’s easier to pretend I’m still in love with them, than leave them in that state.” “You know you basically lying to them about your feelings is gonna hurt them more in the long run, right?”

“Why does it have to be them? Why can’t it be me?”

“I’ll give you two seconds to take that back.”

“You gotta work for it, love.”

“We can pretend that didn’t happen.” “I’m sorry, but I’m not as good of an actor as you are.”

“I don’t know how to… I’ve never done this before.” “Then follow my lead, okay?”

“I’m someone who falls in love easily, but I’m also someone who can’t get over someone as easily.”

“I want to make this work, because I don’t— I don’t want to— I can’t lose you.”

“You make me want to be a better version of myself.”

“I don’t wanna mess this up with you.” “You won’t. I promise, you won’t, so just… Do whatever. I trust you.”

“Why are you smiling at your phone?” “…I was looking at the mail app, and uh… Received some good news?”

“Because love isn’t linear. You know that, right?”

“I’m not doing this for you — I’m doing this for myself.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be that person for you.”

“I’m here to stay. At least until you want me gone, which I hope is never.”

“Chasing you is like chasing the rainbow… It’s impossible. You’re always slipping away no matter how fast I run after you.”

“Don’t give me that it’s not you, it’s me bullcrap. It’s us both. We’re both at fault for this relationship breakdown.”

“God, I just like you so, so much.”

“I think I need to get over you for me to feel better again.”

“You and your stupid smile… Stop that.”

“I just need you in me somehow, please—”

“I really hope you realised they were flirting with you.” “…They were?”

“I’ve caught feelings for you, and I know you don’t like me back that way so I just… Wanted to tell you, before I decide to let you go.”

“I’ll be here to pick up the broken pieces if that’s what you want me to do, but I’ll leave if you’re not ready for that… For something more with me.”

“I love you, but I… I don’t think I see a future with you.”

“Give me a week. A week, and I’ll be back to normal. A week, and I’ll… I’ll be over you. Just a week and you’ll have the old me back. It’s that easy, I promise.”

“I kinda wanna give myself a concussion so I can forget about you and not think about you twenty-four-seven.”

(pt. 1) | (pt. 3)

#i wrote this in january lmfao #long post #dialogue prompts #otp prompts #fluff prompts #angst prompts #smut prompts #prompts #romantic prompts #romance prompts #suggestive prompts

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luveline · 28 days

Note

Babe congrats on quitting!!!

I live coworker!James sm he is so lovely and i cant heló bit asking for more

R having a bad day and James doent know until he teeases her and she just like opens up to James a bit more?

thank you!!

You can’t escape Remus’ sweet questions of concern, though he’s tactful. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Remus asks, James a haunting somewhere near the customer complaints desk.

“I’m fine.”

“You really don’t wanna come to dinner with me?”

It’s a nice offer, but Remus is part of a package deal, and he’s the only one of the three who isn’t exhausting; Remus’ boyfriend Sirius is well meaning but so beautiful and so alarmingly aware of it, while James is all those things too, but much less subtle about it. “I’m too tired for the walking, thank you. I’m just gonna stay here and eat my sandwich in slow bites.”

Remus laughs, wrapping his scarf tight around his neck. He doesn’t tuck it under his coat. Sirius will do that for him. It’s heartbreaking to see every day, a reminder of real love in the world that will seemingly never touch you, but it’s cute too.

James rockets back to his desk. He’s always in a hurry. Half-frantic, he pulls his rucksack from under his desk and unzips the main body. To your horror, he unveils a large Tupperware of white rice, asparagus, and what looks to be chicken thighs. Next comes his portable knife fork.

He notices your watching. “It’s just rice and chicken,” he says defensively.

“No, I’m not–” You shake your head. “Not about what you’re eating. Eat what you want, James.”

“Don’t I always?” he asks. “Not about what I’m eating. Your general look of disgust and disdain is to do with something else, then. Did you accidentally look in the ladies bathroom mirror again?”

“It’s nothing.”

James tucks his chair in, face paused, hands hesitating at the sides of his dinner and then flat to the desk. “Hey, is something wrong?”

Maybe his comment before struck a nerve. Maybe you’re having a terrible day, and everything’s piling up, and you can’t be expected to keep in your feelings forever. Or maybe you’re dumb. “Guess I did look too long in the mirror,” you say.

“You’re upset?” he asks, startled.

You shake your head vehemently. Slow. “I’m just having a bad day.”

“What happened?”

You stare at him for a moment, take in the concerned twitch of his brows as they pull down and in, the set of his nice mouth, remarking to yourself on how the snarky sarcasm erases itself from his expression so quickly, leaving behind a boy with a very sweet face.

His hand curls into a loose fist. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I don’t know if you ever get this, but sometimes I,” —your face goes white hot suddenly, an acknowledgment of the powers over you you’re giving him in needing reassurance— “look at myself and I feel a bit off. And I thought if I had lunch by myself I’d have time to not be looked at? Um. Which is why I was unhappy. Not because of you.” You frown at him. “You do make me unhappy, though.”

He pretends to laugh at your weak insult, which is generous. “So you actually did get upset looking in the mirror? Shortcake, I was kidding about that, it's not like it makes any sense.”

You frown at one another. “Why not?”

“Because you’re nothing worth being upset over?” James suggests. “You’re pretty. You know you’re pretty.” He points at you with his fork. “You do know?”

“No,” you mumble.

“I’m not telling you again,” he says, looking strangely as though he’d quite like to tell you again.

“I’m consistently below average.”

“Where? Do you have an address? I must go to this place where you’re the standard.”

Something weird and queasy summons to life in your chest, before levelling into a surprising pleasure. That was definitely a compliment, and from James, though annoying he might be, it means a lot. He’s outrageously good looking, after all, and especially when he smiles, which is nearly constant. He’s smiling now with the fondness of someone who knows you better than he actually does.

He ruins it rolling his eyes. “You’re ridiculous. Which I’ve come to expect!” he says, sliding a thumb under the clasp of his Tupperware. “Why would you think you’re not lovely? To look at, that is. You’re a huge pain otherwise.”

“That’s uncharacteristically mean, even for you.”

“I’m balancing it out. Want some asparagus?”

You excuse yourself for a quick trip to the bathroom, where you mouth questions at your reflection of the puzzled variety. Has James been replaced by a body snatcher? Or are you finally seeing the version of him everybody else in the office seems to know?

When you get back to your desk, your figurines have been upended by a ‘freak earthquake’. He’s back to normal.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

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sincerelyneo · 2 months

Text

no judgement | l.mk

“i can be your lover or your shoulder to cry on, you can be whoever you like”

💿now playing: no judgement by niall horan

❯ summary: Mark’s shocked to see you at his front door step crying, but he isn’t surprised. You do this all the time - get a new boyfriend and forget about your childhood best friend. And the minute that asshole dumps you, you always want him to pick up the pieces. And he will. He always does.

❯ pairings: mark x fem!reader (brief mention of yuta)

❯ genre: friends to strangers to lovers? smut, angst

❯ words: 4.9k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, protected sex, lowkey sub!mark, hookup, rebound sex, glasses kink, big dick mark bc yes, oral sex (m receiving), nipple play, slight begging, yuta is an asshole for the plot, reader is also kinda mean, mentions of cheating (not between mark + y/n), slight unrequited love, use of ‘pretty girl’, reader uses she/her pronouns.

Mark thinks his mind is playing tricks on him. I mean - it would make sense - the last time he’d checked the clock on his desk it was 12:17 am. So, there’s no way the light knocking on his front door is really happening…right?

He tries to focus on the papers in front of him - a work assignment that was due last week that he’d already managed to get an extension on. He knows his boss will have his balls if he doesn’t have it completed and on his desk by 8:00 am sharp tomorrow (today).

However, Mark’s fears of premature insanity are put to a quick end this time when the knocking is paired with an unnecessarily loud yelling through his letter box.

“Mark Lee if you don’t open this door right now, I swear I’ll kick your ass the next time I see you.”

Now that - the sound of your voice - wasn’t in his imagination.

You bang harder, clear that you're using a fully clenched fist to make as much noise as possible. “I’m serious dude, I’ve kicked your ass before, and I’ll do it again. Now open. The. Door.”

Mark knows he should just ignore you, pretend that he’s sleeping and focus on his work; but, he hasn’t seen you in months, and you are supposed to be his best friend after all. He can’t just leave you out on the street at this hour — he won’t — what sort of friend would he be?

He rises from his desk, removes his glasses, and places them gently on the wooden surface before pinching the bridge of his nose.

You knock (pound) again.

“‘Alright alright, jeez, I’m coming,” he says, followed by a small curse as he ushers through his hallway to the front door.

As he swings the door open, he’s almost hit with a nasty sucker punch to the cheek as you simultaneously raise your fist to knock again.

“Woah there, calm down, you’re gonna get me a noise complaint,” he flinches.

“I think it’s a little too late for that,” you point to the house next door, “That woman has been glaring at me from her window since I got here.”

Mark peers out of his house, the cold night air nipping at the tips of his ears, and sees his neighbour looking down shaking her head disapprovingly at him. He raises his hand in a feeble apology, with a tight-lipped smile to ease the edge, but it doesn’t, he knows it doesn’t and he knows he’s going to have to do a lot of ass kissing in the morning.

“Well, Mrs Kim and her husband have just had a baby.”

He watches you shrug then grimace, “How was I supposed to know that? They didn’t have one the last time I was here.”

It’s now when Mark takes in the person standing in front of him, a mere silhouette of his childhood best friend. You’re barefoot, which already raises questions in his mind, and a bottle of wine is in your hand. Your hair is dishevelled and mascara smudged under the bottom of your eye – which makes sense since he can see the faded redness from where he knows you’ve been crying.

“So, you gonna let me in or what? I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

Well obviously, Mark thinks, you’re wearing nothing but a short black dress, covered by a thin sheer blazer leaving your legs completely bare in the middle of winter. Your teeth chatter and he has to suppress the smile threatening to dance on his lips because it reminds him of when the two of you used to mess around in the snow during winter break back in high school.

But he pushes those memories to the side, just like his front door, as he makes enough room for you to slip into his house. As you step inside, you waste no time making yourself comfortable - old habits die hard you guess - remembering how things used to be.

You remove the blazer you're wearing and walk over to Mark's desk, draping it over the back of his chair. Your eyes fall on the sheets of paper scattered across the surface, partially covered by his glasses. You recall that he had stopped wearing them during junior year, opting for contacts instead - a decision you found disappointing. You had always liked his glasses; they made him look kind of... cute.

“I’m not interrupting you, am I?”

Yes.

“Nah, not really,” Mark shrugs following in from behind you.

“Really?” You ask picking up a sheet of paper as you raise an eyebrow, “Marketing campaign for neo gummies, on my desk Monday 8:00 am.”

There’s a smile on your face as you read it because it’s nice to know that the Mark standing in front of you is the same as the one you grew up with. He was always the last person to hand in his college assignments, and school science projects; but don’t get it wrong, he’d always ace them.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve basically finished it.”

Mark’s lying, and you can easily tell by the way his arm reaches up to scratch the back of his neck. It's a mannerism you've become aware of, noticing how he used to do it when you asked him for his opinions on some of your uglier fashion choices throughout high school.

“You sure?” You add, “I wouldn’t want you getting in trouble with your boss or anything. Especially now that you live in this fancy-ass townhouse, your mortgage payments must be crazy.”

Mark shakes his head with a smile, reaching for his glasses and putting them back on. “They’re not that crazy…”

You give him a knowing look, his living room alone is practically the size of most apartments in the city. But you didn’t expect anything less from him, he’d always worked hard for everything he had. He graduated with flying colours, found a high-paying job after college, bought a nice house; and you’re sure that one day he’d secure himself a nice girl to live in it with him.

What you’re trying to say is Mark Lee had something to show for himself, which is more than you can say after you took a more leisurely approach to college. Mark had always worked a little too hard for your liking, or maybe you just worked a little too easy for his. Either way, he’s the one with his life put together and you’re just…standing barefoot in his living room, looking a mess, with a bottle of alcohol in your hand.

“Well then, since I’m not imposing, how ‘bout a drink?” You suggest, waving the bottle of wine in the air in an attempt to win him over and distract yourself from your own reality. As shitty as it sounds, you come to Mark to escape the chaos of your own life, so dwelling on comparisons isn't something you want to keep doing.

For Mark though, he knows he shouldn't indulge in a drink – after all, the work assignment on his desk is practically begging to be completed. But he's always struggled to say no to you, and he's well aware that you know that too. It's why you're so comfortable knocking on his door in the early hours of the morning when most of the city is asleep; you know he'll always open up for you.

And that’s exactly why he’s heading into his kitchen and rooting through his cabinets until he finds two wine glasses.

When he comes back into the living room, he finds you standing by the fireplace. It's not unusual, considering you were freezing just moments ago on his doorstep from your attire. However, what catches him off guard is that you're not warming yourself by the fire; instead, you're holding a picture – Mark's favourite one – taken by his parents on the day you got your wisdom teeth removed.

"No way you kept this," you groan, though there's a hint of laughter in your voice.

"Of course I did. You were completely out of it on anaesthesia, going on about marrying Lee Taemin," Mark replies.

You squeeze your eyes shut, remembering the way you sent the hot senior you had a crush on in your freshman year a DM in your high state. “Oh gosh, don’t remind me.”

But truthfully, that's not the sole reason Mark kept that picture, or why he still chooses to display it despite having hundreds of clearer, better ones of the two of you together. He treasures that particular photo because it was the day you told him you loved him – although you never brought it up again. Mark pins it down to you not remembering from the anaesthetic, but that photo, it’s the last slither of hope he has left.

“Well, I must say, Mark Lee, you have had quite the glow-up since your high school days,” you laugh putting the picture back on the fireplace.

Mark can't believe his cheeks are warming up as if he were that same teenager – pathetic, he thinks. And he wants to say the same about you, but he hardly recognizes you. You're a completely different person from the girl in the picture, and while he loves you, truly, it doesn't change the fact that you're a mess sitting before him.

To his defence, it's impossible not to notice it; he saw it the moment he opened the door and saw your smudged makeup and raw eyes – you’re defeated. And even though he knows precisely why, he still asks.

"What are you doing here, Y/N?"

You swallow, “Can’t I just come and see my best friend?”

“No, you can’t.”

His words carry a double-edged sword, both an accusation directed at you and an expression of the hurt he's experienced from your repeated instances of ghosting him over the last few months.

You begin pouring yourself a generous glass of the wine you brought along. If you were going to have this conversation with him, you weren't about to do it sober.

“Yuta broke up with me.”

And there it is. You always do this – get a new boyfriend and forget about your childhood best friend. And the minute the asshole in question dumps you, you always want him to pick up the pieces.

And Mark hadn't forgotten the name Yuta; in fact, it had been seared into his mind ever since you posted a picture with him on your Instagram account, looking all lovey-dovey. And then Mark had gone into full stalker mode – because of course he did – he always did. But the thing with Yuta was that he was one step ahead. One particularly awful day at work, when Mark wanted to check your account, he found himself blocked.

Honestly, Mark doesn’t blame Yuta, he’d be lying if he said all his thoughts about you were completely innocent, but you’d never blocked him over a guy before. He's accustomed to the isolation, the ghosting, and the personality changes that come with you getting a new boyfriend; but being digitally blocked by you was a new low. It's safe to say Mark had already formed his opinion about your new ex-boyfriend: he was definitely an asshole.

"Why did he break up with you?" he asks, not out of genuine concern, but rather out of selfish relief. Still, he knows it's the right thing to do.

“He found someone else, or I found him fucking someone else,” you spit bitterly, “and do you know what? That fucker didn’t even give me a chance to grab my shoes before he kicked me out.”

You take a long gulp from your glass, the liquid burning slightly as it goes down your throat, and then you flop back on the sofa. Your movements are heavy, weighed down by more than just the alcohol in your system. As you sink into the cushions, a wave of emotion crashes over you, threatening to engulf you completely. It's a moment of vulnerability that you've been holding back, and tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. You try to fight them, push down the rising tide of emotions, but it's futile.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he reassures, quickly taking a seat beside you on the sofa and resting a gentle hand on your thigh, where he begins to rub small, soothing circles into your skin, just like he used to do. "You can stay here tonight."

You groan into your hands, you can’t believe you're acting like this – pathetic – and it has you immediately defensive. “Don’t look at me like that,” you mutter, so quiet Mark almost misses it.

“Like what?”

“All judgy.”

“When have I ever judged you, Y/N?” he questions, his tone gentle, “I’m always your shoulder to cry on, we’re past the judgement stage,”

"I don't cry that much," you protest weakly.

“Well…” he starts, that teasing look in his eye you love.

In response, you push his chest playfully, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Because you’ve missed this – missed him.

And that’s the part that always stings the most: how effortlessly you two slip back into each other's company. Despite not speaking for a couple of months, it's like you didn’t lose any time. And perhaps that's why Mark finds it so easy to keep forgiving you, and why you find it so natural to slide in and out of his life and then expect him to mend your broken heart.

Mark grabs the hand you used to push his chest and looks at you seriously but gently, “Seriously, Y/N, you can just be yourself with me, just like it’s always been.”

His words resonate with you, stirring something deep within the pit of your stomach. You meet his gaze with glossy eyes, and in that moment, you feel an overwhelming surge of emotion. Without hesitation, you lean in and press your lips to his.

It's a tender kiss, soft and sweet just how you expected Mark’s lips to be. And he melts into it just as much as you do, if not more so. It’s like he craves it, like he’s hungry for it. And he is because you – his first-ever crush, the girl he’s been in love with since he could remember – is pressing her lips to his. The teenager in him is jumping up and down right now.

Just as you're about to deepen the kiss, your face bumps into his glasses, causing both of you to pause as they sit askew on his face. Mark blushes and begins to fumble with them, but just as he's about to take them off, your hand wraps around his and stops him.

“Mmmm. Keep ‘em on,” you bite your lip as you reposition them on the bridge of his nose. “I like them.”

“I didn't realize you had a glasses kink,” he teases.

“Neither did I...just like them on you.”

That triggers something inside of him because his tongue lightly sweeps over your bottom lip where he nips it with his teeth. One of his hands reaches up to cup the nape of your neck; the other finds its way to the hem of your dress, intrusive fingers brushing over your bare skin, making you gasp.

He stills.

Did he just fuck this up? Was he reading it wrong?

There’s a fraction of a beat where you just breathe against him, and Mark feels a twinge of self-consciousness. And just when he’s about to apologise, you dive into him and all reservations are thrown out the window as you give him the green light.

His hand wraps around your waist and he pulls you over his lap to straddle him. It gives him all the access he needs to grab your thighs and lift you up as he stands. He keeps your lips connected as he wraps your legs around his waist, pressing into you just enough to feel the swelling in his crotch.

If you thought he was hungry for it before, now he’s starving.

Your arms wrap around his neck, your breasts crushing against his chest. Your hips start to move against him without any control, almost like it’s instinctual. You suck on his tongue and he groans. And God if it isn’t the sexiest sound you’ve ever heard.

“You feel so fucking good, Y/N,” he says into your mouth, “Are we really doing this?”

You smile against his lips, “We’re doing this.”

You both take that as a confirmation to go harder, kissing like you’ve been starved of each other for years, and Mark supposes you have. His body moulds to yours and you feel his hand wander to your ass making your dress lift as he carries you out of the living room.

When you see him heading for the staircase you know exactly where his head is at, and when he opens his bedroom door with you still in his arms, you feel wetness pool right between your legs.

He drops you on the bed so gently and carefully not to hurt you – because even though he’s so goddamn horny right now – he’s still Mark. When your back hits the whites of his sheets it gives you a moment to look at him, his chest is heaving, lips swollen and cheeks flush. His hair is tousled and it makes your blood run cold.

He looks like pure sex. Hot sex. Good, filthy, all-night-long sex. And you want him, more than you’ve ever wanted any man before in your life.

Mark kneels on the bed in the space between your legs, coming close enough to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, and you wonder if he sees you the same way you see him right now. He brushes your cheek gently with his thumb and you lean into his caress and plant a small kiss against his palm.

His lips meet yours again as his hands slip between you two. They glide up your leg, to your stomach to under your dress, where he finds you not wearing a bra as your nipples pebble under his rough hands.

Instinctively, your arms stretch over your head, reluctantly breaking the kiss so he can tug the material off and over you, lips crashing back together as you roll your hips into his with desperation and need.

Mark groans when he pulls away to look at your naked chest in front of him, it’s a picture he thinks. One that needs to be hung up in an art gallery or some shit – actually now that he thinks about it – he hates the idea of you being on display like that for someone else.

His fingers wind themselves in your hair, a delightful shiver skittering along your body as you soften into his touch. You can’t help but grin suggestively as you look him in the eyes, top teeth holding down on your lower lip as your hands creep low enough to hook into the band of his pyjama bottoms.

Mark practically whimpers as your hand teases at the elastic, “Please.”

The plea has you smiling wider, knowing exactly what he wants. You remove his bottoms without a second thought, the same time he strips from his t-shirt. His cock springs free, thick and long and straining so eagerly for you.

You get a thrill knowing you’re the one who’s made him this hard and that makes you want to please him badly. So you do, taking control and flipping him over to be underneath you. He gasps at the motion and then he almost cums untouched at the sight of you kneeling between his legs, lowering yourself down just enough to kiss the tip of his cock.

The teasing touch sends a chill right through him. He leans back on his arms just to see you, eyebrows strained as he concentrates, glasses slightly fogged – he wants to remember exactly what you look like like this. You’re intoxicating, strong enough for him to get drunk on.

“So pretty,” he murmurs under a soft breath and you blush.

You lick your lips, focusing on his cock, flattening your tongue from the base all the way up to his head, where the slit is leaking with pre-cum. You hear him suck in a breath and it makes you smile.

You like knowing he’s needy, teasing him to ignite small reactions, but continuing to do so would only be hell for you; because right now you want nothing more than to suck on his cock like it’s the last thing you’ll ever taste.

You wrap your hand around his shaft and don’t waste another second before your mouth is sinking to suck on him. You manage all you can – there’s a lot of him – and use your fingers to move up the length you don’t swallow, stroking him painstakingly slow.

As you kiss and lick at him, Mark is going mad because it’s your mouth. Your mouth is wet and hot and currently wrapped around him good enough that his thighs have started trembling.

It’s not long before his hands find your hair and he helps you to slide more of his cock inside, knowing exactly when to stop instead of making you take too much. But he’s big and thick and your mouth barely covers him – which he hates – it feels like a reminder that he’s not made for you.

The thought has him letting out a growl, which catches you by surprise from the whimpering mess he was seconds ago. The grip he has on your hair tightens.

“Fuck, Y/N, suck me harder…” The dirty words sound dominant at first, but they trail off as you continue sucking on him, a lot like you’re melting him, and you fucking love that idea.

The thought of having him be so desperate for you is making you wetter and needier. And it’s that need that has you reaching up to graze his nipples with your fingers. Mark finds the chill of your cold digits distinctive, responding with a mewl that rings between the walls of his room.

You can't believe such a small touch makes him so…responsive.

Every tug on his sensitive peak is enough to pull a sound from his pink lips, enough to make him writhe his hips and edge his cock further into your mouth.

You twist and pinch and watch as Mark’s face twists in the feeling, mouth dropping open to release a stuttered breath. It’s so sensual - so carnal.

You pull off his cock with a sickening pop, looking up at him with spit-covered lips. “Who would have guessed your nipples would be so sensitive?”

Your hand stays at a steady pace, stroking him slowly as you speak. Mark shivers from the loss of your warm mouth around him, but there’s still a part of him that’s glad you stopped. But not because he doesn’t want this — he does, so badly — but because he was starting to feel his cock’s overwhelming urge to twitch with his orgasm. And there was no fucking way he was going to cum before he’d even buried himself inside you.

In a cooling breath, he replies, “Only sensitive for you.”

Warmth flushes on your face, and the arousal soaking between your legs begs to soak his cock. He’s so cute when he is all red-faced and whiny, eyes closed tightly as his brows knit together. And you suppose his own state of neediness triggers yours.

“Want you inside of me now, Mark,” you pant, “Need it.”

“Fuck~” his voice drips like honey as he moans, hands moving to grab at your waist to flip you under him.

You push yourself further up the bed and he crawls after you. It’s only now he realises the lace barrier still on your skin standing between you and his cock. Your panties are dark blue and they look so pretty against your skin.

He leans down, kissing the inside of your knee, letting his fingers slip up your ankle to cradle your smooth calf.

“Sometime tonight,” you tease.

But Mark likes to go slow, he likes to savour in your sight, study your body to remember every detail for his next late-night fantasy. He wants to bask in you being so bare and so ready for him — not your ex-boyfriend — him.

He skims his hands further up your bare legs until he slides your underwear down and disregards them somewhere on the floor. Then, he wraps his arms around you, holding you close, pressing your chests together skin to skin. He likes it like that — being so close and so intimate with you that it's almost raw.

He reaches into his nightstand and pulls out a condom. You don’t take your eyes off him once as he rips it open with his teeth and rolls it down the entirety of his length. Heat pools in your stomach because this is happening — and that makes your pussy throb.

He keeps his eyes on yours as he lines himself up with your entrance, pushing inside of you, breathless. You can’t help but sink your head back into the mattress, eyes closing.

“Eyes open.”

You lazily blink them open.

“Eyes always on me pretty girl,” he demands, thrusting into you.

You’ve never felt anything like him. You feel so full. He’s everywhere. Even your lungs and head are filled with him.

“Taking me so well pretty,” he groans.

His praise has you gushing, whining with the feeling of him stuffing you. It’s not awkward like the first time having sex with someone can be. It feels like you’ve always been doing this.

“You’re okay?” he asks.

He sounds calm, but you can see the restraint that he’s barely holding on to by the tightening in his jaw, and the tension in his brow.

“More than okay. Just fuck me, Mark. Please.”

He brushes his lips over yours and whispers, “Oh I plan to.”

You smile, but it’s quickly gone as he starts to move, fucking you slowly, then quicker and quicker, and harder and faster. The headboard is banging against the wall, surely denting it, and you know if the neighbours weren’t already pissed about your knocking they’d definitely be pissed now.

And selfishly, you can’t find it in you to give a shit because he’s like a machine, working thrusts into you at all the right angles to elicit sweet moans from your lips.

You’re panting and groaning like a bitch in heat. Mind fuzzy with euphoria as your flesh slaps loudly together. If college you knew that Mark Lee, your best friend, was about to give you an orgasm she would have laughed in your face.

But, God, the man can fuck.

He urges you onto his cock harder, clit rubbing against his pelvic bone, each time your hips connected in powerful thrusts.

“Oh God, Mark,” you try your best to keep your eyes open, but the pleasure is threatening to consume you.

“That’s it. Cum on my cock pretty girl. I won’t come until you do.”

The idea makes you want to hold off forever, let him fuck you for hours just to bask in the feeling of your closeness. However, your body disagrees with that sentiment, and suddenly you’re cumming hard.

“Shit,” he hisses, feeling your walls flutter around his length.

Mark doesn’t slow down though, he fucks you through your orgasm like a madman, hammering deep to the hilt to chase his high.

“I’m gonna cum, Y/N…shit…fuck…” He growls a sound so erotic in your ear, you feel like you might cum again.

He sags onto you, his body heavy but not crushing, his skin warm against yours. You touch your fingers to his cheek.

“I don’t think I can move,” he says, breathless.

“So, don’t.”

The tips of Mark’s ears turn red at the suggestion, but eventually, he figures he needs to move — much to his dismay. He eases out of you, catching hold of the condom and pulling it off his cock. He rolls off of you and out of bed to put it in the trash before he’s back next to you, arms engulfing you in a hug.

You look up at him and he presses a kiss on your lips before pulling back. “Are you staying?”

“Do you want me to?”

“I asked first.” He says.

“I’ll stay if you want me to stay.”

Liar.

Mark swallows, “Okay well, I’ll get us breakfast in the morning then, yeah?”

He says it but he knows come the morning you’ll have slipped out in the middle of the night because this isn’t the first time he’s had sex with you.

Mark has always been your rebound. Yes, he’s your best friend, but he’s also your favourite hookup call when your boyfriend’s being an asshole.

And he knew that when he first heard you knocking on his front door. He knows you'll never change – and strangely, he's content with that, he’s accepted it. Because even though he knows you'll move on again, he doesn't mind keeping your secrets safe until the next time when you want a man to heal your heart.

Because Mark will settle for being a pity fuck if it means he gets to be a constant in your life.

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