#and i’m holding onto the towel rack because i’m too short for the lower edge to show when im standing flat-footed 😂

[discountalien-pancake]

Thank you so much to @lord-luci for helping me finish this corset, could not have done it without you! I can now finally start working on the Glass Gown, which conveniently happened to win the poll for what project y’all want to see next! The petticoat I’m making will be part of the ensemble.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Babysitter

Pairing: Yandere!Atsumu/Reader & Yandere!Kita/Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Synopsis: You don’t like Atsumu at the best of times. When he has to go out of town and you’re shoved into the arms of a man as ruthless as your captor and only half as loving, you find out you like his friends even less.

TW: Non-Con, AFAB!Reader, Infantilization, Graphic Violence, Water-Boarding, Drowning, Implied Kidnapping, Mentions of Past Non-Con, Bondage, and Troubling Implications.

The water was too hot.

There’d still been steam rising off the surface when Kita called you into the bathroom, barely sparing you a second glance before telling you to strip. Atsumu preferred cold showers. Utilitarian, freezing, and more often than not, rushed though when he was already late for practice or dead-tired, barely dragging himself through the end of a long day. Sometimes, when he had time to catch his breath, he’d throw you over his shoulder and force you to tolerate the frigid temperatures he preferred. Those were the worst days, when you had to huddle against his chest and let him hold you just to fight off the urge to shudder, to shiver, to give him an excuse to think of you as any more weak and any more needy than you usually were. He’d laugh and call you sensitive, and if he really wasn’t in a rush, he’d offer to warm you up. ‘Offer’ might’ve been the wrong word for it, actually. That’d imply you could refuse, and you knew better than to try anything that out-right, by now.

“I can take care of myself,” You’d said, lingering in the doorway, hoping beyond hope that he’d leave. “‘tsumu doesn’t mind, when I do.”

“Miya’s not here,” He’d responded, never looking towards you. “Get in.”

So you had, lowering yourself into the scalping water with a white-knuckle grip on the edge of the tub and a small, almost inaudible hiss. It should’ve come as a relief to feel warm, after so many weeks spent in Atsumu’s pervasive chill, but whatever comforting effect it might’ve had was negated by Kita’s stare, the feeling of his eyes prying into you, the way he touched you so casually as he rubbed body wash into your shoulders and combed his fingers through your hair, after slapping away your hand when you tried to reach for the bottle yourself.

That was what bothered you the most about Kita. This wasn’t Atsumu’s first away-game, and he’d left you alone for far longer than a week before, but it’d always been his twin watching over you. Osamu’s approach was hands-off, at best. He’d come over for an hour every night, make sure you still had food and that you hadn’t found a way to break through the half-dozen locks on every exit, then he’d leave, rarely saying so much as a word in your direction. It was simple. It was quiet. You could tell yourself he only did it because he as Atsumu’s twin, because they were family, and you were just some stranger who’d been too stubborn to give Atsumu what he wanted and too stupid to keep him any further than arm’s length.

Kita didn’t have the same excuse. Kita was an old friend, but just a friend. He should’ve called the police. He should’ve been disgusted when he saw the tattered state of your thighs, when he let himself acknowledge the trail of bruises Atsumu’d carved along your collarbone before he left. He should’ve done something, anything other than stare at you with that neutral, impassive expression and nod, as Atsumu chuckled and told him to take good care of you. It made you think about what Atsumu’s other friends must’ve been like.

It made you wonder how open he’d be to sharing, if one ever brought it up.

Just the thought had you curling into yourself, pulling your knees to your chest as Kita straightened his back, pushing himself to his feet. “I haven’t seen your room,” He started, pulling a towel off the nearest rack. There was a slight wave, a signal for you to stand, and hesitantly, you obeyed, crossing your arms over your chest. “What do you usually wear to bed?”

That was a good sign. A blessing, really, in the scope of things. You didn’t have to tell him about the lingerie, or the jerseys, or the nights where Atsumu decided you were being ungrateful and didn’t deserve to sleep in anything but the thinnest sheet he could find. “I… I don’t really have anything,” You managed, focusing on the cloudy water, soap suds still gathering around your legs. “He’s not really big on routine, you know? I can pick something out for myself.”

You cringed as he raised a brow. “Do you actually think I’m going to buy that?”

“Well...“ You had to remind yourself to smile, to stay on his good side. You didn’t know why he was doing this. There was still a chance he saw you as a person, and you couldn’t afford to ruin that. “I’m really, really hoping you will.”

There was a breath of a laugh, something between a smirk and a grimace, and without further indulgence, Kita took you by the arm, forcing you to stumble out of the tub entirely as he reached towards something on the other side of the bathroom, a plastic bag with a non-descript logo. You hadn’t noticed it before, not when every room in Atsumu’s apartment was just big enough to be disorienting, but you recognized the panic the moment it came flooding in, the anxiety that came with being at the mercy of someone you’d known for less than a day, someone you were sure you couldn’t trust. When the grey plastic fell away and something pink and sheer emerged, that sourceless dread was swiftly replaced with founded, familiar fear.

It was gratifying, in a way. A suspicion confirmed. A question answered.

That’s why he was here.

The bathroom door wasn’t locked. You’d checked once, when you first came in and again, during your bath. Kita was bigger than you, but you tried to dart past him anyway, aiming to catch him off-guard and lock yourself away somewhere dark and safe before he realized you’d ran for it. Your rebellion was short-lived, though. All Kita had to do was reach out, catching you by the waist and pulling you into his side, ignoring your efforts to claw at his forearm as he used his other hand to pull out whatever abomination he wanted you to wear. It looked like a nightgown, from what you could see, soft and pink with a white bow positioned at the dip of the collar and lace gathered around the hems. Something made for someone who wanted to feel helpless. Something made for a child.

“Miya said you were moody. You looked sweet, though, so I didn’t want to take him seriously.” The dress was slung over his shoulder, the plastic bag forgotten on the countertop, and you were left to scratch and scream and struggle, your efforts earning an annoyed grunt in return. If anything, he only dragged you closer, pulling your back against his chest as he went on. “Quit it. This is supposed to be simple, but you’re being difficult.”

“Fuck off!” It was the kind of blunt, blatant thing that’d make Atsumu roll his eyes and leave you alone, but Kita didn’t drop you, only gritting his teeth as you continued to seethe. “I should’ve known he’d invite one of his fucked up friends over,” You snapped, Kita’s arm beginning to dig into your stomach. He was stronger than he looked, but you were used to that, by now. You had to be, with a captor like yours. “I’m not wearing anything for you. I don’t care what Atsumu said, I’m not a fucking doll--”

Finally, he let you go, but you barely had time to catch yourself before his hand was on your shoulder, shoving you onto your knees and sending a sudden, shuddering crack, making you wince before he’d even tightened his grip. You managed to shut your eyes, to muffle a shriek into a low, pained growl, but if Kita was trying not to hurt you, it would’ve been impossible to tell. He didn’t hesitate to tangle his fingers in your hair, forcing you to keep your posture straight and your chest against something cool and porcelain - the edge of the tub, you realized, a second too late. Reflexively, you reached out to support yourself, but your wrists were already restrained, pressed into the small of your back with a strict severity. With the apathetic sternness of a guard restraining a prisoner, while the executioner loaded his gun.

You heard it before you felt it. There was a splash, the sound of water hitting tile, and then you felt it dripping down your chest, still too hot not to jerk away from. Cold acrylic bit into your chest, and all too abruptly, your head was submerged, forced just deep enough to let the air escape from your lungs when you instinctually tries to scream, just deep enough to make all your fighting useless. Atsumu’d never done this, before. He’d lost his temper plenty of times, caught you trying to use his phone or sneak a note into the pocket of his jacket and made sure you had the scars to pay for it by the next day, but he wasn’t creative, he wasn’t composed. Kita’s resolve didn’t waver. When you started to go limp, your vision dimming at the corners and your mind doing everything in its power to convince you to breathe, he didn’t even flinch. He didn’t move, not until you were genuinely slumping forward, not until you were convinced you were going to die, and he was going to be the one to kill you.

You were shaking, when he finally pulled you up, trembling so violently, you almost thought Kita might be concerned. He might’ve been. He let you gasp for air until your lungs stopped throbbing in your chest and your pulse began to slow, but that was where his kindness seemed to end. “Want to try that again?” It was a question, but your answer was lost somewhere beneath a blend of panting, blood rushing past your ears, and Kita’s tone, so calm, so measured. It made you sick. “I brought you a gift. What do we say when someone is nice enough to bring us presents?”

It took you a second to remember how to open your mouth. It took you another to realize you actually needed to speak. “I… I d-don’t--” You had to stop. Your voice was weak, as uneven as the hasty breaths you were still trying to rush. If you’d been more aware, you would’ve just told him what he wanted to hear, but your skull was stuffed with cotton and your tongue felt too heavy to lie with. “It isn’t… It’s not my gift if you’re the one having fun.”

To his credit, Kita didn’t try to deny it. He only forced your head back down, and you lost your chance to sputter out an apology.

You couldn’t be sure how long it lasted. You lost the ability to tell time after he pulled you back up, barely allowing half a hitched sob before deciding you hadn’t learned your lesson quite yet. It was a cycle - a relentless, constant, agonizing cycle, one that left you begging away what little oxygen you could’ve retained, muttering incoherent pleas into uncaring water, dripping with sweat and tears and blood, from where his nails cut into your scalp every time you tried to squirm. By the time he stopped, actually stopped, the process had sapped your energy, your strength, leaving you frail and malleable and unable to do so much as get up, when Kita let go of your wrists. All you could do was cross your arms over the wall of the bathtub, burying your face in the self-made nest. Part of you hoped you would make it just a little harder to tell you were crying, that it’d make it just a little easier to meet his eyes tomorrow. The rest of you just wanted this to be over.

Kita didn’t seem to like that idea as much as you did, unfortunately.

“See? It’s not that hard to behave.” You felt him tap your cheek in approval before he shifted, moving behind you. There was a rustle of fabric, a foot between your knees, edging your legs apart. You hesitated, but you relented. You couldn’t fight back, not like this, and running wouldn’t work. All you could do was hope and pray he’d be satisfied with the dress.

Luckily, he was kind enough to smother that delusion before you could really put your faith in it.

“Has Miya fucked you, yet?”

You stiffened, but you managed to shake your head. It was a pathetic lie, an obvious lie, but Kita only clicked his tongue, moving to crouch behind you. For a moment, you almost wished he’d taken the time to dress you, to put you in something pastel and immature that might’ve served as a barrier between you and him, however flimsy. But, then you imagined what it’d feel like to have that soft fabric pooling around your waist, where his touch might drift as he pushed the skirt out of the way, and you decided there wasn’t a better option. You were already on display for him. It couldn’t get worse. It couldn’t get worse.

That’s what you thought, at least, before his hand wrapped around your thigh, keeping you still as his fingers swiped over your cunt, barely bothering to play with the idea of decency. “You should be honest with me,” He explained, half-heartedly. Still dedicated to lecturing you, but distracted, now, his mind having moved on to other, less-verbal form of punishment. “But… your boyfriend probably wouldn’t like it if I gave you something to whine about when he came back. We’ll compromise.”

You were beginning to see why he and Atsumu got along so well.

The shame was more potent than the pleasure, at first. It was a gnawing anxiety, a constant spark that kept your nerves on-edge and your senses unpleasantly alert, only made worse by the moan you had to fight back as he moved to your clit, two fingers drawing harsh, practiced circles into every sensitive spot you didn’t want him to find.

His fingers were calloused. You noticed his palm was, too, as he tightened his hold on the flesh of your thigh, holding you up in spite of your shaking legs, but it was different from the harshness Atsumu tried so hard to fight off, tried so hard to mask with soft words and praises and the stubborn belief that you could enjoy it, if you let yourself. Kita didn’t seem to care. He did whatever he had to, whatever turned breath sobs into little, pitiful whines. Whatever dampened the shame and replaced it with guilty satisfaction, with the admission that this wasn’t nearly as bad as what he’d already done. Whatever made your pussy drool, the slick soon building up and staining his fingers and becoming impossible to ignore. For you and for Kita, both.

He let out a low, long whistle as he slipped his ring finger into you, your cunt sloppy enough to make the stretch tolerable. To yourself, you wondered if he’d planned this, if he’d accepted Atsumu’s invitation and walked through that door knowing he was going to, or if your misbehavior had just been his lucky break. It felt planned. Everything he did felt planned, from the way he hardly waited for you to adjust before forcing another finger in, alongside the first, to how slow his pace was, any decent rhythm interrupted by pauses and twists and curls that left you arching your back and crying out, despite your attempts to muffle the sound. You almost thought about telling him to stop, but as soon as you opened your eyes, as soon as you saw the water that was still so close and must’ve been so cold, the air hitched in your throat and any denial was choked down, replaced with a more agreeable keen.

Kita seemed satisfied with your wordless submission. Finally, he fell into a decent tempo, letting you slump against the short wall and let waves of content warmth roll over you with every stroke of his fingers. “It’s easier this way, yeah?” He asked, his free hand moving towards your hip, rubbing gently as you failed to fight back. Rewarding you for good behavior. “Never thought I’d feel bad for the jerk, but he told me what you used to be like, how determined you are not to change. It’s a shame,” He rambled, his tone growing more affectionate as you bucked into his hand, letting him grind against the soft, spongey spot that had you seeing stars. You didn’t try to stop yourself from mewling as he pushed another finger into you, you didn’t want to try. Kita didn’t want you to, either. “If I took you home, you would’ve been good for me, right? Miya doesn’t know how to treat sweet, emotional little things like you.”

You might’ve nodded. You might’ve denied it. You might’ve offered no reaction at all, because by now, you were too busy chasing after that feeling, that high, the bait he’d been kind enough to kick just within your reach. Your knees buckled under the pressure, your legs finally giving in, but Kita was there to catch you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he coaxed you closer and closer and closer. You could feel yourself clenching down around him, and for once, you didn’t care about how embarrassing it’d be, you didn’t care that you were a prisoner of someone who’d once sworn up and down that he loved you - you didn’t care. You deserved this. You deserved to feel good. You deserved it, and…

And you weren’t going to get it.

Kita pulled away suddenly, leaving you whimpering and grinding against his palm as he chuckled, the sound throaty, careless, sobering. You didn’t want him to see your expression, the sincerity of it, the genuine hurt. As soon as he pulled you into his chest, one arm hooked under your knees and the other supporting your back, your face was buried in the crook of his neck, keeping you hidden away and safe, even if you were still in the arms of your temporary captor. If Kita minded, he didn’t make a show of it. He was grinning as he kissed the top of your head, and when he spoke, it was barely audible, but clearly happy. ‘Pleased’ might’ve been a better word for it, but you tried not to think about that. “Needy little thing,” He muttered, more for himself than for you. “Try not to get too mad at me, (Y/n).”

This time, when he reached for the nightgown, you didn’t try to run.

“We still have all week to ourselves.”

~

The house was quiet, when Atsumu got home.

It was almost unsettling, honestly. He’d gotten used to hushed cursing and metallic clicking, to scraped glass and you, smiling innocently, trying and failing to hide a paring knife behind your back. It was a routine, and the moment it was broken, the moment he undid the deadbolts on his apartment door and didn’t find you trying to pick the wrong lock on the other side, he couldn’t help but stop, close his eyes, and appreciate it. Just for a second. Just long enough to entertain the thought that Kita might’ve managed to train the brat out of you.

This peace was shattered by light footsteps, a mug settling onto a marble counter. “You’re early,” Kita said, by way of greeting. “I didn’t think you’d be back for another day.”

“Caught a flight,” He shrugged, dropping the dufflebag slung over his shoulder next to the door. Even if it’d been Osamu, he would’ve hesitated to spill his guts about how little he’d slept, how many times he’d thought about calling, how the anxiety ate away at his gut and his mind until it was all he could to do remember that he would come home, eventually, and you’d be waiting for him. You’d always be waiting for him. He’d made sure of that, after you made it clear how little interest you had in waiting for just him. “There somethin’ wrong with that, ‘suke? A man can’t be dyin’ to see his sweetheart?”

He was given a scoff, but Kita was already smiling, turning on his heel and waving for Atsumu to follow. That’s when he noticed the buzzing - light, at first, but it got louder as Kita led him towards your bedroom, more unignorable until they were outside your door and Atsumu could hear it clearly, a constant, electrical drum. He almost asked, but the door was already opening, and whatever he might’ve said instantly faded into a small, surprised ‘oh’.

The dress was a nice touch. Mint green, the kind of shade that might’ve passed as white in sunlight, with sleeves that clung to your arms and a neckline so high, he almost couldn’t make out the collar beneath, pink and lacy and adorned with a small, sweet bell that chimed every time you took a decent breath. Your socks, a complementary shade of grey, managed to reach your thighs before they tapered off, or… one of them did, at least, the other hastily wrapped around your ankles, keeping your legs clamped together as you laid on your side. Your wrists were bound, too, tied behind your back with the same pale fabric Kita’d used to cover your eyes and stuff into your mouth, keeping you quiet despite the little whines and whimpers he was starting to make out. The skirt was hiked up to your waist, wrinkled and folded underneath you, but Atsumu couldn’t complain, not when it gave him a perfect view of your soak panties, of the vibrating wand pressed against your cunt so snugly, you’d be able to convulse and writhe and complain all you wanted and it wouldn’t move an inch. Not until you were feeling more considerate of your boyfriend’s feelings

Fuck.

He was almost mad he didn’t think of that, first.

He didn’t say anything, stepping towards you with an expression of astonished, dumb-struck elation still painted across his face, but Kita was kind enough to take up the mantle. “Someone got a little overwhelmed while we were playing dress-up,” He explained, watching as Atsumu switched off the vibrator, spurring you to let out a relieved, cracked sigh. The restraints were next, your ankles before your wrists, then your blindfold, Kita’s makeshift rope left forgotten on your bed. You blinked a few times, but after your confusion faltered and reality began to settle in, your eyes darted towards Atsumu. Finally, finally, you wrapped your arms around him, using what was left of your energy to cling to him, to bury your face in his chest and refuse to let go. It was all he could do to laugh, to pull you into his lap and cup your chin, using his thumb to wipe away tears and drool and the other remnants of Kita’s work. You were still shaking, still twitching violently, but Atsumu couldn’t bring himself to be mad. Not at this. Not at you.

“I thought a couple hours in timeout might help,” Kita finished, as deadpan as ever. “It usually tires ‘em out, if the setting’s high enough.”

If you were going to defend yourself, you didn’t make a move to. All your attention was on Atsumu, just like it should be. “Please,” You mumbled, your voice heavy, your words slurring together. “Please, don’t leave again.”

“I missed you too, angel.” Despite his sympathetic tone, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling, from nodding towards Kita, still standing in the threshold, a satisfied grin pulling at the edges of his lips. Atsumu couldn’t blame him. He’d been skeptical, when Kita offered his all-too-needed services, but clearly, whatever lesson he’d beaten into your head had stuck.

He’d have to let Kita babysit again, next time he went away.

[chelsfic]

A Familiar’s Familiar - Guillermo x Reader (Gender Neutral) One-shot

Summary: Guillermo serves Nandor. You serve Guillermo. You are an under-familiar. That means you're responsible for all the household grunt work, specifically: dead body disposal. When a careless mistake results in injury, Guillermo has to pick up your slack and he's not happy about it. The guilt and shame you feel at disappointing your master is intense. But Guillermo knows just will make you feel better: a spanking.

Warnings: Dom/sub, spanking, Mean Guillermo

A/N: Pure fantasy.

“How many fucking times do I have to tell you to be careful with the lye?!”

Guillermo holds your hands under the faucet as ice-cold water rinses and soothes the angry red burns. His fingers are tight around your forearms, digging angrily into your skin. 

“I’m sorry, master,” you whimper, hanging your head in shame. You can feel his disappointed eyes burning holes through the top of your head. What would he see if he could look inside? Would he recognize your pitiful love for him? Would it look anything like the feelings he has for his own master?

“I bet you are,” Guillermo responds, shaking his head. “You’re going to be useless to me for days because of this.”

Your breath catches and tears sting your eyes worse than the damn burns. “No, please, master!” you beg, hating the sound of your own voice, so whiny and cloying. “Please, I can still be useful!”

Guillermo turns off the tap and grabs a towel from the rack, gently wrapping your hands in the fluffy fabric. His touch is kind and soft even as he speaks with steel in his voice. “How, when you’re too stupid to do the simplest chores without nearly crippling yourself? I can’t believe how much time I’ve spent training you and still I have to deal with this shit.”

You sniffle and bite back the words that come automatically to your tongue. Simplest chores? You’ve been dissolving human remains in a solution of lye and water! Your more gruesome familiar duties include grave digging and dismembering corpses! And you work so hard to be good at it. Why? You don’t give a shit about Nandor. It’s all for Guillermo.

You swallow the angry words, and what’s left is the hollow ache of disappointing your master. Tears finally spill over your cheeks and you collapse forward, leaning your head into his soft chest and sobbing. Guillermo wraps his arms around you and rubs a few soothing circles into your back. 

“Alright, that’s enough,” he sighs, pulling away after only a few seconds. Shame burns in your throat as you try to follow him, unwilling to let the embrace end so quickly. He retrieves a roll of gauze from the medicine cabinet and takes your hands in his, delicately covering your burns. “You think you can manage folding my laundry after this?”

---

It’s freezing outside but Guillermo’s forehead glistens with a thin sheen of sweat. He grunts as he hauls the heavy cadaver over the threshold, tossing it down the steps with impressive strength. You’d be swooning if you weren’t currently being eaten up with the guilt of your beloved master having to do your work for you.

“I’m sorry, master,” you say for the thousandth time as he turns to retrieve the next body from inside the house. You’re holding the door open, your bandaged hands hanging limp and incriminating at your sides. 

“I don’t want to hear it,” Guillermo snaps.

His glasses are slipping down the bridge of his nose and you yearn to reach out and fix them for him, but that level of presumption is unthinkable at this very moment. It’s not that you don’t share soft moments with your master sometimes. At the end of the night after he’s tucked Nandor into his coffin, when everything is quiet and still, you turn down his bed for him, collecting his dirty laundry as he undresses and changes into his pajamas. You hardly ever speak during those moments but the quiet intimacy between the both of you is enough to fuel your hopeless fantasies. You pull the covers up over him and let the backs of your fingertips graze over his body as you do so. You dream about climbing into that big, soft bed with him, cuddling up and pressing your lips to his…

But Guillermo is not in the mood for soft indulgence. He’s annoyed and exhausted. The heavy burden of his disappointment weighs on you. You’re jumpy and nervous; you feel like at any second you’ll either burst into tears or scream at him to forgive you. Possibly both.

He comes back out with another wrapped bundle, significantly bigger than the last. He pauses in the doorway and glares at you; his cheek is spattered with blood. You might faint with how sinfully attractive he looks while giving you murder eyes.

“You know what?” he says. “I think you did this on purpose. When was the last time we had five bodies in the cell?!”

Nadja and Laszlo had themselves a blood feast last night. You’d spent ages scrubbing the fancy room before starting the grisly job of dismembering and dissolving the first corpse. Your accident had cut things short.

“No, master, I wouldn’t!” you plead. “Please let me help you!”

You bend down to grasp one end of the bundle but Guillermo stops you with a sharp slash of his hand through the air. “What did I tell you? You need to let those heal or you’ll have permanent damage.”

You’re forced to stand by and watch as your master painstakingly saws, hacks and cuts the bodies down to size. His jacket and apron are covered in blood by the time he finishes stuffing all the parts into the large, heavy-duty trash bags that you awkwardly hold open for him. He’s panting with the exertion and the job still isn’t done. Now he needs to carry everything into the basement where the vats of lye solution stand ready to do the job of dissolving the evidence. 

He pauses to catch his breath. You catch his eyes and it’s suddenly too much to hold everything inside. A sob wracks your form and you drop your head, hiding your face as tears fall. Guillermo sighs and you imagine him rolling his eyes at you as he gathers the bags and trudges around to the basement entrance. 

“You filled the tubs up too high,” he comments. “You need to leave some room at the top otherwise they’ll overflow like earlier, okay?”

He puts his hand up to the outside of one tub, indicating the fill line and you nod your head, eager to appease him even as exhausted, overwhelmed tears sting your cheeks. Guillermo is so strong. He lifts the deadweight of each body part with seeming ease, carefully lowering them into the tubs until each one is filled. When he’s finished he turns back to you and regards your crying, whimpering form for a moment before speaking.

“I’m going to go take a shower. There’s nothing more for you to do. I want you to go to your room and stay there. You’ll just be in the way, otherwise.”

---

The next day is the same, although thankfully Laszlo and Nadja refrain from another blood frenzy. But, again, you’re forced to stand idle as your master toils with the tasks that should be your responsibility. You can practically feel his aggravation with you bubbling beneath the surface of his cold demeanor, and it sends you into an anxious spiral. You live for Guillermo’s praise, for the rare little smiles he gives you when you’ve done something particularly good. For those coveted words as he strokes a hand through your hair. “Good familiar.” 

This just feels awful.

You want to be good again but you don’t know how. You can’t make your body heal any faster. You can’t think of a way to make it up to your master. Well...certainly there are ways you’d like to make it up to him, but Guillermo has never indicated that he’d be interested in you in that way. Why would he be interested in you? A worthless, stupid excuse for a familiar who can’t do anything right…

You find yourself standing outside his bedroom door, heart in your throat as you rap your knuckles on the solid wood. His face is a stoic mask when he lets you in. As soon as the door shuts you fall onto your knees at his feet, wrapping your arms around his legs and pressing your face into his thick thighs. 

“Please let me be good again, master!” you cry, not even knowing what you mean by the words. 

But Guillermo sinks his fingers into your hair and you weep with relief. Guillermo knows what you need, doesn’t he? He’s served his master for so long, he must know how to help you.

“I wondered how long it would take you to finally come to me,” he muses, his fingernails dragging lightly over your scalp. You mewl and nuzzle your face into his thigh. For a fleeting moment you think about shifting over a few inches and pressing your mouth to the crotch of his khaki pants, wantonly rubbing your face against him and begging for the chance to pleasure him. But that would be for you, and that’s not what this is about, is it? He says your name and a shiver runs down your spine. “You won’t feel better until you’re punished.”

The revelation is so simple yet so fucking profound. You can earn back your place as Guillermo’s good familiar. Oh, god, you’ll let him do anything to you if he’ll only scourge the shame from your soul.

“Please punish me, master,” you tilt your head back and look up at him with wide, pleading eyes. 

Guillermo’s lips curve into a smile. It’s not his “good job” smile or his “secret joke” smile and it’s certainly not the smile he reserves for Nandor. This is a smile like a knife’s edge and a sudden qualm echoes through your stomach. You’ve devoted yourself to this man, making it your goal to please him in the pathetic hope that he might simply like you. But you’ve never been at his mercy before. 

“Wh-what are you going to do?” Your voice quavers.

Rather than answer you, he shows you. He helps you up, grasping your elbow rather than your injured hand, and walks you over to the bed. He sits, regarding you with cold, expressionless eyes and indicating your pants with a nod of his head. “Take those off.”

For a brief infinity you are struck motionless. Like a squirrel who, seeing a car on the road, cannot decide whether to sprint across to the other side or turn back to safety. You don’t have to do this. Guillermo might be mean and exacting, but he wouldn’t force you. Your fingers tremble as they move to the button of your jeans. Popping it open feels like opening Pandora’s box. What are you starting? And is it something you can ever come back from? Would you even want to?

“Good familiar,” he purrs, his voice soft as always. All doubts fly out of your head at those words. You scramble to shimmy the jeans down your legs, discarding them in a crumpled heap on the floor. Guillermo eyes you with a single arched brow and he doesn’t even need to say anything; you pick up the jeans and neatly fold them, setting them down on the bed beside him. His smile waters you, makes you feel stronger even as you’re putting yourself under his control.

He pats his lap and you step closer, stopping right next to him, unsure. It’s obvious what he intends to do but you’re horrifically shy about it. Does he want you to drape yourself over his knee? Or should you sit on his lap to start? What if you look like an idiot--a kid sitting on Santa’s lap? The questions and worries chase each other around in your mind until you’re paralyzed with indecision. 

“Hush,” Guillermo says, reading the panic on your face. He puts his hands on your hips, turning you and pressing down on the small of your back until you’re lying across his lap, pinned. You sigh in pure relief, melting against him and shutting your eyes. Guillermo will take care of you. You don’t need to worry about what comes next or how to behave; you don’t even have to worry about displeasing him. Guillermo won’t let you mess up. He’s in charge now. A tiny sob escapes you at the thought.

“Thank you, master!” you cry, rubbing your cheek against the side of his fleshy thigh. 

Guillermo’s hand smooths over your backside and goosebumps break out on your flesh. His hand is soft, delicate. He strokes you through your underwear, circling each round cheek before taking hold of the waistband and pulling down to expose you completely. From your position you can’t see his face. Is he looking at you? Inspecting you? Is he pleased with what he sees or is he detached and clinical?

“Don’t thank me yet, my little familiar.” There’s a smirk in his voice and then the first smack lands. 

What did you expect? For a man who regularly lures people to their deaths to be gentle? His hand lands on your quivering flesh with brutal force. You hiss, tears springing to your eyes on impact. Before you have a chance to grapple with the pain of the first blow, a second one is falling on your other side. This time you moan and cry out, squirming on his lap. 

Guillermo’s quiet voice reaches into you and tugs you back from the pain. “My good familiar,” he says and delivers another bruising smack. “Look how well you’re taking your punishment. I’m so proud of you, chiquis.”

His words unlock something inside of you and all of your anxiety, your shame, your sorrow and your love comes pouring out. You weep; big, wracking sobs shake your shoulders and you dig your fingers into your master’s leg, desperately clinging to him. 

You cry out your thanks as his hand continues it’s merciless assault. The violence of that soft, delicate hand is shocking. He hits you over and over again, never landing on the same place twice, but always leaving behind a stinging, burning ache that feels like a brand on your skin. A brand of Guillermo’s dear name. You belong to him. The thought sends a thrill of arousal straight to your groin. He’ll never be yours but you don’t care if he’ll only allow you to be his .

Eventually the pain eclipses everything else, even the sweet surrender of giving in to your master’s justice. Even the revelation of his hard erection thrusting against your belly. The pleasant, fuzzy cloud that’s enveloped your senses begins to thin and you jump and sob with every slap. 

“Please, master,” you finally cry, flinching and trying to pull away when you sense his hand raising for another blow. “Please stop.”

Guillermo’s hand comes down one last time, resting gently on your burning, bruised flesh. He brushes his palm over his handiwork and asks, “Do you feel better now, little one?”

It’s like waking up from anesthesia. The pleasant buzz of submission fades from your mind and you feel shaky and vulnerable, but also clean and renewed. “Yes,” you breathe, affection and gratitude filling your voice. “Was I good, master?”

Guillermo replaces your underpants and gently tugs you off his lap, laying you down on the plush fabric of his comforter. “You did so well, chiquis. I’m proud of you.”

You’re in your master’s bed, your head resting on his pillow. You’re shameless, burying your nose into the pillow and inhaling Guillermo’s scent. Your eyelids feel heavy and you really shouldn’t fall asleep here in your master’s space but oh, how you wish your little fantasy could come true.

“Am I a good familiar, master?” you ask. Your voice is tiny and afraid in the soft quiet of Guillermo’s bedroom. 

He strokes his hand through your hair, pressing a kiss to your cheek and whispering, “You’re the best familiar.”

You laugh sleepily and scoff, “That’s not true, master. You’re the best familiar.”

Your eyes have somehow drifted closed and the next thing you’re aware of is the mattress dipping behind you as Guillermo climbs under the covers. He manhandles you a bit, until he manages to drag the blankets up over your body.

“Well…” he finally answers, reaching over to click off his bedside lamp. “Then you’re the best familiar’s familiar.”

[unstoppableforcce]

a new dawn

—CHAPTER EIGHT: date night

pairing: Poe Dameron x reader (modern au)

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a/n: this is a good picture, my goodness. I love this part! much longer than my usual parts but it’s got tons of good bits!! I hope y’all enjoy, I apologize for the end now

He couldn’t remember the last time he actually shaved.

He got by with a regular trimming more recently, but tonight he wanted a clean face. Because he also couldn’t remember the last time he took you out on a proper date. Not just takeout and a movie on the couch, not just a nice dinner with fresh food from the market, but a real date, with nice clothes and a real restaurant.

And for no other reason than to have a date night. That and Holdo suggested it after he admitted he was feeling a bit inadequate recently.

There was someone you worked with, the head of the NICU actually who you worked in tandem with often. Poe was as far from a jealous type as anyone could be, he resented the feeling, but the second time you brought this guy up, he couldn’t help but feel a wave of it rush through him. Not because he thought you would up and leave him for this mystery doctor, but because there were men out there with real jobs and level heads who were interested in you.

The way he phrased it to Holdo was that he found it difficult to feel like the man of you dreams much anymore, and he wanted that feeling back.

She suggested date night and it was hard for him to argue otherwise. And the smile on you face when he brought it up after the session was enough to light a fire within him for an eternity it felt like.

But that meant shaving.

He could do it, he could shave, it wasn’t that big of a deal, right? It was just a beard, just a bit more than a gentle scruff...

His hands were shaking. All he wanted to do was shave his beard so why was he struggling—

“Baby, I’m home.” He heard your keys fall into the dish by the door and your shoes kick off to the side before four pattering feet met you at the door and your entire voice changed tone, “hello baby boy.”

He sat the razor down by the edge of the sink and sighed, listening as your feet padded against the wood floor, walking deeper into the apartment. “You home, Poe?”

“Yeah, I’m in the bathroom.”

He shut his eyes, solely listening to the sound of your feet as you continued your way past the kitchen, into the bedroom and to the bathroom to find him slouched over the sink. When he opened them back up, it was only when he was sure you were stopped right next to him, but instead of you, he found BB’s orange and white face right in line with his.

He couldn’t exactly say the surprise didn’t make him jump.

You lowered BB to the ground with a chuckle and moved to settle against the sink next to him, “You okay?”

He nodded, but you weren’t looking to him, you were looking at the sink and the razor sat there. But instead of picking it up or mentioning it at all, you just reached out to his face and gently ran your fingers through the slightly graying beard that ran along the bottom half of his face.

“You want it off?”

He reached up to grab your hand and hold it in his own, “I just got tired of looking at it in the mirror, I guess.”

It was your turn to nod now, tracing your fingers along his knuckles.

“Don’t take it all the way off,” you smiled, leaning forward to press a short kiss to his lips, “I quite like it.”

Running his hand back over it, he didn’t get the appeal. He thought it made him look older than he felt he was, and it definitely made him look like he hadn’t had a good shower in a few days, just slightly unkept. That and his curly hair had gotten equally unruly, too long at the top, sides, every direction, and graying at the temples as well. Not as much as the beard, but enough that it caught his stare each and every time he looked in the mirror.

He had been clean shaven the first time he met you and on all of your dates when you first got together. The first night you stayed over was the first time you noticed just how quickly his pristine face became tainted by scruff; he made sure to shave it off before breakfast. When he imagined himself, he imagined himself without a face full of hair.

But ever since he got back from his last tour, the beard became a fixture on his face. Mostly because he didn’t have the energy to stay perfectly shaven every single day, but also partially because it was a barrier between himself and the mirror.

He glanced to where you sat and found you still staring as all the thoughts rushing through his head sent him quiet. You reached your hand up at first to trail the line of his chin but eventually settled it at the side of his head, cupping his face.

“You’re feeling okay?” You asked again and he sighed, a sigh that stole all the remaining tension from his body as it escaped through his lips.

“I don’t know, I’ve been standing here for like an hour.” He tried to chuckle out, to lighten the sentence as it left his tongue but there was no escaping the inherent somberness of his tone. “Do you really like it?”

You shrugged, “I like you and whatever you want to do.”

“I used to always be clean shaven.” He countered, reaching up to your hand and holding it against his face before moving it to his lips so he could trail kisses along your hands, dried out from the gloves and repeated washing.

But you simply gave another shrug, “you also used to have buzz cut—“

His laughter burst from him before you even had chance to finish.

“You hated the buzz cut—“

“Hate is a strong word—“ you laughed out again and he couldn’t help but shake his head, his beautifully thick curls bouncing as he did, encouraging your hand to reach up and out of his grasp to run back through them. “But, remember you’re not who you were a year ago when being clean shaven was a top priority.”

He considered your words for a second while holding your stare but you didn’t let the silence linger for too long after.

“You don’t have to force anything.” Leaning forward, you gave him a final kiss but lingered until you felt him nod in agreement before pulling away. “I’m going to change my clothes.”

He nodded again, watching you as you left the small bathroom before turning to the mirror and running his hand over his face once more.“Yeah...”

“Do you know where we’re going tonight?” You shouted from what sounded like the closet area while he reached for the trimmers.

“Uh yeah, I made a reservation.”

He could hear the sound of your feet again as you walked back to the door of the bathroom and leaned your head in to see him, but only barely dressed now as you did.

“That sounds fancy.” You smiled as his eyes danced over you briefly before a smile of his own came to his lips.

“I just don’t like waiting...” he tried to play it off but you only laughed again.

“Where at?”

He shrugged this time, “if I tell you then it isn’t a surprise.”

“I have to know what to wear—“

“Wear that.” He gestured to the length of your body, bare spare your undergarments and the two of you laughed out at the same time, “I don’t know, it’s not fancy though, just something casual.”

“Casual.” He could hear you repeat it as you leaned away from the door frame, “casual.”

He tried to ignore the sound of you getting ready as he finally brought the trimmer to his face and by the time he finished and began rubbing over his freshly trimmed face, you reemerged in the door way as a monument to casual beauty. Who knew jeans and a cardigan could be so immaculate?

But you were stood still staring just as he was, eyes locked onto his very low cut beard. Not clean shaven, but not a full beard either, something more closely resembling early morning scruff from him than a beard escaping from his face. Your hands immediately had to reach out and run your fingers over it again as a smile grew on your face.

“You like it?”

“Baby,” you smirked, pulling his face towards yours, “I like you.”

He caught your lips in a heavenly kiss, his hands moving to your body, snaking around your hips and tugging you closer into him. It felt like his finger tips were worshipping every inch of you and yours were doing the same as they moved up from his fresh face to his somewhat unruly curls as they always did. You tugged on his curls once and he couldn’t help but groan into your open lips while you gently nudged him back into the wall of the small bathroom, barely missed the towel rack with his shoulders but neither of you really caring much.

He broke from your lips only to reconnect his kisses to the exposed length of your neck and upper chest, earning a groan of your own with every gentle but gnawing kiss.

But after he riddled your skin with a few more kisses and finally made it back to your lips, he pulled away, leaving you just as breathless as him and leaving your lips to futilely attempt to chase after his.

“What—“

“We can’t be late for our reservation.” He smirked, stealing one last kiss at the corner of your mouth before pulling away and leaving the bathroom to head for the closet. He wasn’t sure where the sudden surge of confidence came from to be so teasing and playful, but the bubbling of something in his chest told him he was happy he had. And he hadn’t been anywhere close to this happy in a long time.

Maybe Holdo was right. He figured she was always right but he was going to be continually surprised by it.

“Tease.” You seethed as you followed him back to the bedroom and collapsed onto the bed alongside BB to watch him strip and change into something besides the typical T-shirt and gym shorts combo he rocked around the apartment.

“It’s not a tease,” he began but stopped briefly to pull his head out of his shirt and reach for a cleaner Henley shirt, “if its a promise for what’s to come.”

You rolled your eyes and BB let out a small bark like he clearly knew what was going on, “tease.”

He chuckled, dropping his shorts but you let out a groan and he hesitated with his shorts around his ankles, “what?”

“Slower.”

He burst out in laughter again while reaching for his favorite jeans and quickly pulled them on. Walking the few steps over to you on the bed, he leaned over you and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, “what’s gotten into you today?”

“Hmmm” you hummed, nosing your face closer to his as he lingered, “I just like you, I think.”

“Really?”

“MmmHmm—“

“Because I love you.” He smiled as you pulled him back down for one more kiss.

“I love you, Poe.” You repeated, but BB was not quick to be out done and let out a yelp from beside you, forcing Poe to turn his attention away from his favorite person to his favorite dog.

He chucked, “yeah I love you too buddy.”

You sat up, fixing your shirt and cardigan while brushing off some BB hair and turned to him as the dog attacked him with kisses. “Ready to go?”

He nodded.

Things were already going better than he expected. That was the only thing he could think of as the two of you walked hand and hand out of the apartment and down to the garage. You let him drive so he could snake a hand to your thigh as he did. It was all better than he expected.

Watching your face light up as you realized where the two of you were going was better than he expected too. Who knew you could get so excited about a small little restaurant that the two of you hadn’t been to in what felt like years?

“When was the last time we were here?” You asked as he walked around to your side of the car to grab your hand.

He shrugged, trying his best to remember but coming up relatively blank, “I think maybe a year ago or longer.”

“For Karé’s birthday?” You asked so offhandedly, but practically made him stutter a step as he walked.

He hadn’t thought about it really, he just picked it because you liked the food. But you were right, it had to have been Karé’s birthday the last time you two were there. Snap had arranged the whole thing as a surprise for her and it had only been a few weeks before Poe and him shipped out again, for the last time—

“Poe?” You interrupted his thoughts as the two of you finally made it to the door, “I didn’t mean to—“

He shook his head, trying not to get lost in the memory by turning his focus back to you. “Sorry...”

“We can go somewhere else—“

No. He thought abruptly but thankfully the impassioned word didn’t make it to his lips, instead he took a deep breath and shook his head again. “No, it’s okay.”

It needed to be okay.

This was a place filled with nothing but happy memories with Snap, what was there to be afraid of?

“No,” he repeated, half to you and half to himself, “I’m okay.”

You leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek and he smiled.

“We have a reservation.” He said to you and pulled you by the hand into the restaurant before repeating the same sentiment to the man stood behind the podium.

“Your name?” The man asked back, barely looking up from the pad as he typed something in.

“Dameron.” Poe answered and the man nodded.

“We’ll have your table in about a minute, it’s just being cleared off.”

“Perfect, thank you.” Poe replied before turning back to you and squeezing your hand gently.

“I love you.” You repeated, squeezing his hand back , making his face stretch into a smile within seconds. “Thank you for doing this.”

“I wanted to—“

A voice calling your name cut him off before he could finish. The two of your turned around to look for the source and while Poe didn’t recognize anyone in the small crowd of people entering and exiting the restaurant, you clearly did.

“Hey...” you greeted the red head as he approached with an older man stood behind him, surely his father or relative of some kind given the shared hair color and brow ridge.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you outside your scrubs, you clean up rather nicely.” The man said as if it was nothing but Poe couldn’t help but tighten his grip on your hand as he heard it.

“Thank you,” you turned to look at Poe and smiled, “Hux, this is Poe, my boyfriend, Poe, this is Hux, we work together.”

“The boyfriend, right.” He all but sneered, “I’m doctor Hux.”

Poe nodded at his elongated and unnecessary title explanation after you had just explained that and held out the hand not holding yours to greet him with a shake and he easily reciprocated it, “nice to meet you, Hugs—“

“Hux.” He corrected but didn’t let his smeared smile fade, he just simply turned back to you. “It’s good seeing you, as always.”

“You too,” you smiled but the second he turned away your entire cheery disposition lagged.

“You don’t like that guy?” Poe guessed as the restaurant employee came back and began leading the two of you to your table.

“You don’t either.” You laughed and he couldn’t help but mimic it.

He reached to pull out a chair for you but your head still appeared to be reeling from the forced interaction and you mindlessly went for the chair opposite the one he was pulling out for you and sat down, forcing him to recover by taking the seat he meant for you.

“Your waiter will be right with you.” The man said as he lingered by the table and both you and Poe gave a brief ‘thank you’ at the same time before turning back to each other.

“What’s up?” He leaned forward in his elbows to face you directly and you sighed out.

You futilely attempted to shake his head but he wasn’t letting you off that easy.

“Babe, what’s—“

“He’s got this creepy crush on me.” The words practically tumbled from you mouth to escape as the tension began to release from your shoulders. “Asks my nurses when my break is so he can pretend to run into me...”

“You’re right, I don’t like him.”

The two of you laughed at that but yours fizzled out faster than his did as you reached across the table to grab his hand. “I can tell when you’re jealous, and you need to know there’s absolutely nothing there to be jealous of.”

“Who said I was jealous?” He tried it quickly defend with a scoff but you merely quirked your head and he sighed, “it’s not jealousy.”

“Then what is it?”

Holdo told him he needed to talk to you about what he was feeling, he didn’t plan to do it at date night but—

“Sometimes you mention the guys you work with and I can’t help but feel a little, I don’t know, less than, maybe.” He explained as he carefully avoided your eyes. “You know, I’m not a doctor, I’m just a retired pilot and—“

“Poe I don’t care about—“

He held up his hand to buy himself a second to take a breath before he continued, “I know you don’t, it’s got nothing to do with you.”

A half smile broke to your lips as you squeezed his hand tighter, urging him to continue.

“It’s just something I’m working on.”

“Can I do anything to help?” You tried but he just shook his head again.

“You’re already doing everything right.”

The waiter made it to the table before your conversation could go any further, but it was okay. Poe gave you a smile across the table and a light kick under the table as she recited the specials and that was all you needed at the moment.

Your meal was delicious, it always was at this particular restaurant, Poe made a very good choice. And as the two of you made your way home, you reminded him of that.

“It was perfect, Poe.” You smiled and kisses his hand while he was driving. “Really, thank you for going out fo your way for tonight—“

“You’re the perfect one, I’m just trying to keep up.” He had a similar smile on his lips as he turned to you briefly before turning back to the road.

“You’re perfect.” You kissed his knuckles again, pressing your lips softly between the rise and fall of each ridge of his hand. He scoffed at your comment but it only made you repeat it, “you’re perfect.”

And the sentiment lingered on your tongue the whole drive home. By the time you made it back to your apartment, you figured out exactly how you were going to prove it to him. So, when Poe took BB on a short walk upon getting back, you moved to the bedroom and stripped off the casual attire to wait for him to get back.

“Where’d you go, babe?” He asked the second he got back into the apartment, bending down to undo BB’s harness. But he found his answer the second he looked up to see you lingering by the wall, in the simplest of black underwear, just waiting for him with a soft smile on your lips.

“Hi.” You said simply and he nearly melted into the floor where he kneeled.

“Hi.”

He couldn’t even hear your feet as you walked this time, convinced just by staring at your languid approach that you must have been floating on air. As you reached him, he slowly rose from his knees to stand toe to toe with you, almost out of breath just looking at you.

“All this because I trimmed my beard and took you to dinner?” He tried to joke through his strained throat, but he didn’t get much more than a chuckle from you as you reached your hands up around his neck and his hands found your waist.

“All this because I love you.”

He was never going to get used to hearing you say it, he was never going to get used to seeing you like this. He was never going to stop losing his breath around you, because you were never going to stop being so amazing that you took it away.

He was never going to stop being in love with you. So overwhelmingly, out of his mind, in love with you.

With slow steps, he backed you up to the nearest wall and began a slow barrage of kisses to your neck while your hands trailed lower, down from his neck to find the bottom hem of his shirt. The soft tips of your fingers fought their way underneath the fabric until they scaled up and down his abdomen, then your movements switched to horizontal ventures around from his sides to his back, subtly tugging him in closer to you.

His hands went to your neck as he finally brought his lips to yours, a feeling that was nothing short of heavenly.

A bubble of heat burst in his stomach, sending tingles across his skin as the tips of your fingers danced along. He wondered if everyone could say they still had butterflies in their stomach as they kissed the woman they loved after being together for so long. He knew that he could say it now and that he’d probably keep saying it for the rest of his life.

Your knee lifted up on reflex as he pushed further into you, your bare leg lifting up to wrap around his still jean-covered leg to allow him more room to press his body into yours. His hand met you there, catching the bend of your knee with his now fire-hot fingertips and helping you hitch it around him.

“You’re perfect.” He sighed against your lips, completely out of breath as he opened his eyes to yours. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Poe.” You moaned softly as your eyes took an extra second to flutter open, “that’s not fair.”

He pulled his head back just enough to see you fully, brow furrowed even as your dancing finger tips on their journey to his belt buckle distracted him. “What’s not fair?”

“You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.” You reconnected your lips and groaned as he took the opportunity to push you further into the wall. His lips trailed down to your neck again, searching the soft skin around your ear until he found your spot and elicited an even louder moan from you. “You’re more than I deserve...”

He flattened his tongue against your pulse point and you had to abandon your tries for his belt, your hands traveling up around his neck so that you could grasp on tight to his curls while a gasp escaped your lips. His thigh wedged between you legs, pushing a denim-cladded pressure right to your core while his hand on your knee hitched it up even higher for better access.

“Take me to bed, Poe.” You choked out with barely any breath left.

But then he dropped his other hand to your other knee and hoisted you up fully around his hips to fully take your breath away. It wasn’t graceful, the hobble that he managed with you secured in his arms, legs hitched over his hips, but you didn’t care, you wanted him too badly to notice anything else happening in the moment.

At least until he laid you down on to the bed and settled his still fully clothed body between your thighs and his phone began to vibrate in his front pocket, squarely pressed against your inner thigh.

“You gunna get that?” You mused with a laugh as he pulled back just far enough to reach into his pocket and grab his phone. “Who is it?”

“It’s Leia.”

“Your godmother, Leia?” You asked, sitting up on your elbows now, your attention shifting.

He nodded, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your lips before bringing the phone to his ear. “Hey, Leia, is everything alright?”

You didn’t need to be able to hear the other end to know that it wasn’t, the fall of Poe’s face was enough to send your heart into a whole new kind of rapid beat. Your hand reached out for him and he took it, but with a weak grip you almost didn’t recognize as his.

“What hospital are you at?” His voice was catching in his throat and the words made you sit up immediately, now leaning forward to try and hear the other end of the call.

“Poe—“ he squeezed your hand to shush you, waiting to hear the rest of the sentence.

“Yeah, we’re on our way.” He said into the phone before reaching his hand up to rub at his furrowed brow once more, “yeah, love you too, we’ll be there soon.”

He hung up the phone but he couldn’t meet your pleading stare right away, not until you moved to put yourself directly in his line of sight. “Poe, what’s going on, is Leia—“

“She fell...” he reached to rub at his forehead again but your hand beat his there, cupping the side of his face. “They’re running some tests and Han is out of town...”

“Is she at my hospital?”

He shook his head, “no, she’s at the Hoth, other side of town—“

You crawled around his, unweaving him from between your legs and reaching for the clothes you had discarded when you got home.

“I’m sorry, babe...” he tried to grab your hand while you slipped your jeans back on but you couldn’t shake your head fast enough.

“This is the furthest from your fault that something could be, baby, don’t worry.” You leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead gently, much more gentle than anything the two of you had been doing just seconds prior. “We can have sex any day.”

He wanted to laugh but he just couldn’t find it in himself to at the moment. He let go of your hand so you could pull your shirt and cardigan back on but when you came back in front of him, he nearly bursted out in tears.

“Can you drive...” he sighed, trying to wipe the dampness of his eyes away before it could form and you nodded, helping him up to his feet. “I’m sorry...”

“It’s okay, Poe, it’s going to be okay.”

Usually when you said that, he trusted your judgement. But this was the second fall Leia had suffered this year and, well, he just wasn’t too sure anymore. He put BB to bed and gave him a gentle pat on the head before whispering a goodbye and following you out the door.

His hands were shaking again.

tags-> (lemme know if I missed you or you want to be tagged)

@imaginecrushes @somuchrandomshxt @itsamedeemoney @blushingwueen @grincheveryday @tommy-holland @shakespeareanwannabe @mad-hatters-teapot

[alolanrain]

It’s sad hour my dudes

Missing dad!au where Ash’s dad died of cancer when Ash was five and Delia is a Bad MomTM in this AU. She makes sure that Ash doesn’t remember his dad at all because she secretly started to fall out of love with the man at the time.

Ash’s dad was Champion of Johto and top Elite Four for Kanto while Lance was the reverse, Champion of Kanto and Top Elite Four for Johto, making them fast and the bestest friends ever in their life. They also traveled during their first Journey a while ago. Ash’s Dad, Aaron, absolutely adored his son and always squirreled Him off to Johto when Delia allowed him to. It broke his heart because he knew he was dying but never told Ash because he didn’t want his son to miss him. Which Delia took that moment to say that Ash’s dad wasn’t coming back because he was traveling to become a very strong Champion and let that fester in her sons head until Ash started to hate and actively forget his dad.

Ash is also basically a mini copy of Aaron, the only difference is that Ash has gotten Delia’s height and brown eyes while Aaron has bright blue eyes. Delia also forced Lance and the other Elite Four our of Ash’s life at that point, flaming it as an act of grieving but she really didn’t want Ash to become a Champion even though Ash still wants to become a Pokémon master.

This doesn’t come to head until a giant event is being held on Father’s Day and the league shows off a small video of each Champions father or male guardian they grew up with. Ash was expecting Kukui because the man had practically became his father while in Alola but he was absolutely shocked when a male that looked just like him but taller with blue eyes came onto the screen. Little four year old him was situated in the man’s lap and was shying away from a Richu.

“It’s alright little one,” the man cooed, taking Ash’s little hand and holding it palm up so that the Richu could inch closer and put one of its own paws gently into his hand, “see, Riri won’t hurt you.”

“It’s so soft!” Ash gasped. Wiggling closer as to see if every other part of fur is the same. The Richu edged closer to, leaning down until it could nuzzle it’s snout into the top of Ash’s hair making the little kid gasp and giggle. “It’s soft papa! Riri’s soft!”

“I know munchkin.” The male, which just had to be Ash’s dad, chuckled.

“Ri!” The Richu cooed nosing Ash’s forehead and face gently while Ash continued to giggle.

The camera shakes and the sound of Lance’s voice floated through the stadium speakers, “now that’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Uncle Lance!” Ash squirmed a little in his dads lap to face the Kanto Champion while Riri was still cuddling up to him. “She’s so soft!”

“Oh is she?” Lance asked. Reaching over and jostling the camera even more to pet the side of Riri’s head. The Richu cooed and tried leaning into the man’s hand while still nuzzling Ash to death. “Well I be darn!” The man mocked gasped, obviously humoring Ash who ramped up his giggling, “she’s super soft.”

“The softest!” Ash declared before turning back to focus more on Riri.

“M’glad my two buckaroo’s get along so well.” Ash’s dad said more to himself.

“Ash gets along with almost every Pokémon, Aaron.” Lance jabbed a little with his fingers into the man’s side. Making him squirm and send a playful glare over to him. “Except Beedrills.”

“‘Cept Beedrills.” Aaron sighed. A slight pain look on his face appeared before melting away into one of the most softest looks Ash has ever seen.

The video ended there before another one started. This time who ever was holding the camera was a little bit away from A small lump on the ground.

“What are you doing Ash?” This time Aaron’s voice sounded behind the camera. And Ash, who was wearing the same clothes from the last video but was now exceptionally dirty, straightened up with a worried look.

“Papa I found a hurt Pokémon!” Ash called. Making his dad mutter a small curse before jogging the rest of the way.

The camera jerked with the movement until it caught the top of Ash’s head as both looked down on an extremely weak and malnourished Pichu who barely could glared at the two. Little harmless sparks glittered around his cheeks and that made Ash flinch away slightly into his dads leg.

Aaron places a comforting hand on top of Ash’s head as he turned and called for Lance to bring a kitchen towel. “It’s okay Ash,” his dad mumbled, “it’s to weak for it’s electricity to hurt you.”

“You sure?” Ash mumbled. Becoming shy and turning his head into his dads pant legs. Looking like the Pichu would jump up at any second and attack him.

“I’m absolutely positive.” Aaron soothed. Petting Ash’s hair as Riri ran from the house behind them and came skidding Over to her trainer and son. Cheeks sparking as some fur along her spine spiked up like something dangerous was going to happen. Only for her to flatten her fur as her eyes gazed at the weak little Pichu who tried hissing at her.

Ash watched as the two electric Pokémon’s cheeks light up, Pichu’s being much fainter then Riri’s. “What’re they doin’ Papa?” Ash asked in a stage whisper.

“Well Ash,” Aaron started, “Electric types like to communicate by their electricity. It’s like their own little language outside of using their voice and our human languages.”

“Wow.” Ash’s Bambi brown eyes sparked with curiosity.

“But don’t go touching their electricity when their speakin’,” his dad warned, “it’ll shock you something fierce.”

“Did you get shocked papa?” Ash asked. Not tearing his eyes away from the two mouse Pokémon.

“Oh multiple times, Uncle Lance still falls for it to sometimes.” Ash’s dad huffed.

Ash giggled at that and gasped in excitement as he turned back and saw Uncle Lance, along with a younger Agatha, jogging across the back yard over to the forest line where Ash and his dad were sitting.

The video ended when Aaron went to exchange the camera for the towel Lance handed him.

The third and last video started up right after. The camera was far away again, what looked like the person was standing or sitting on the back porch of the house.

It had a clear view of Aaron in a low hanging hammock with one of his feet planted on the ground. Gently swaying him with Ash napping on his chest. Riri and even the new found Pichu were curled with the two humans. Riri has taken up the side that Ash wasn’t curled up in and the Pichu was napping down lower on Aaron’s chest.

Aaron himself was gazing at Ash with another soft look. Watching his sons little chest go up and down. Matching with Riri’s and a little slower then the Pichu. The short video cut off with someone chuckling softly behind the camera and the lense pointing down onto the wood of the porch before the screen went black.

The crowd was silent for the most part and so were most of the Champions, they didn’t recognize the man and Ash was to preoccupied by staring at the black screen, mind working millions of miles a millisecond.

“Your dad loved you a lot Ash,” Lance was the first one to speak. “He was extremely sad to find out that he had a rare cancer in his lungs and the doctors couldn’t find a cure, so he spent as much time as his jobs allowed with you until he passed before your fifth birthday.”

“He...” Ash’s throat felt to restricted and dry, “he had cancer?” Everyone paused. Lance looked at him with a weird look.

“Didn’t Delia say anything to you?” Lance asked. Looking more concerned by the second as Ash struggles to answer.

“Mom never mentioned him besides the fact that he wouldn’t be able to come to my fifth birthday become he left us to go become a great trainer and possibly a Champion in the future.”

Murmurs spread around the stadium. The other Champions looked at each other in confusion and Lance was starting to grow tense.

“Don’t you remember your dad at all?” Lance asked. Taking a few steps forward towards Ash. Pikachu had jumped up to the platform the Champions were on from where the other main Pokémon were standing. Cooing at Ash and circling his trainers feet.

Ash took a moment. Digging deep into his memories, trying to Find an inkling of this man he saw on the screen. He started to panic as time slowly inches on. Hands spasming at his side and eyes flickering all over the place.

“Ash?” Lance asked. The other Champions were looking at him too. Worried at Ash’s expression. “Do you not remember your dad?”

Ash’s mouth started moving but no sounds, from what he could tell, where coming out. He took a step back as his mouth continued to flounder and brain short circuited. He didn’t even notice that he started crying his cheeks were covered in them. The next thing he knew was Lance charging station him and pushing Ash up the tiny flight of stairs with Pikachu hot on their tail and back into the hallway the Champions came out of when the announcer called him. The next thing was distantly hearing said announcer announcing a half an hour break.

Ash slumped against one side of the hallway half way down and Lance didn’t push him further. Allowing Ash to sink down into his ass and for his hands to clench the side of his head. Sobs racked his body as those videos played in his head over and over again.

How does he not remember his dad? Why didn’t Mom say anything? Why did she lie to him? Was she hiding something else from him? Why did He never see pictures of his dad aroudn the house? Didn’t Mom love him? How the fuck did he forget his dad?!

[therainroguefanfiction]

🎮 Fable of Stars; Chenle Zhong (Sportember #004)

📑 Table of Contents | ⚾ Challenge Post

Genre: Slice of Life, Fluff, AU

Word Count: 3,295

Pairing: Reader x Chenle

World: NCT

Prompt: “I’ll be more than just a fable, I’ll be written in the stars.”

Sport: E-Sports

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Although e-sports has been around for a while, a lot of people refused to accept it as a true sport. How could they when it only called for sitting and playing video games for hours on end? But they didn’t understand how much work went into training for competitions. Your mind has to be sharp, instincts polished so that you can react at a moment’s notice. You spent hours, days even, trying to hone your skills, often times forgetting to each because of how focused on the game you were. Your body felt the effects, but you couldn’t just stop now.

The largest tournament in South Korea was quickly approaching and you had to improve before then. This was your dream, what you’ve wanted all of your life and you were good at what you did, but there was someone better, someone that always managed to surpass you with very little effort because he’s a “prodigy”. At least, that’s what all of the articles say about him, but those same articles have begun calling you his shadow – Y/N, the second best.

It honestly pissed you off and pushed you to work harder, but in the process, you were also suffering because you weren’t properly taking care of yourself. Every minute of your time was spent training for tournaments, but that bastard never seemed to train. He was always on instagram showing off massive parties, expensive clothes, and fast cars, but he never even mentions gaming or tournaments. You were convinced he didn’t even care about them, which only upset you more.

The door to your gaming room was pushed open, flooding the room with light. That small distraction was enough to effect your tired brain and you didn’t notice the other car coming up beside you until the last second, sending you crashing into the wall as the other racers flew past, crossing the finish line. You groaned in frustration, head falling down onto the steering wheel.

“Babe,” Chenle stepped farther into the room, rubbing at his tired eyes. “Did you stay up all night again?”

You leaned back in the chair, staring at the screen as ‘You Lost’ slowly faded in and out. “I mean, I think I blacked out for a few minutes at some point, but yeah.”

He frowned deeply, brow knitted in concern. While he understood that it was your dream to win this tournament, he wondered if it was really worth it if it meant harming yourself in the process. He hated it so much, but he wanted to be supportive of your dreams. He only wished that you would at least take a little more caution.

With a sigh, he turned the TV off before turning his eyes to you. “Go take a shower. I’ll get breakfast cooked and ready so you can eat and then sleep, okay?”

“But -”

His eyes narrowed, hands on his hips as he tried to act intimidating, but he was far too cute in your eyes for that. “I’m serious, Y/N!”

“Fine~” you conceded, back popping as you got to your feet, but your legs were asleep and you had to hit them a few times before they finally regained feeling. Pecking his lips in thanks, you dragged yourself to the small bathroom, falling to your knees beside the tub as you fumbled to find the perfect temperature – not hot, but not icy either.

As the tub filled up, you sluggishly pulled the clothes from your body before stepping into the water, plopping down which sent water splashing over the side. Thankfully, your dirty clothes caught most of the spill. A content sigh passed your lips as you sunk lower into the water, head lent back against the edge as your eyes slowly closed.

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Chenle set the plate of eggs and bacon onto the table, glancing at the clock with a frown. ‘It’s been nearly twenty-five minutes, Y/N should be done by now.’ His socked feet padded across the wooden floor of the hallway as he approached the bathroom, pushing the door open. “Babe?”

A soft snore left your lips, incoherent words being mumbled as you shifted in your sleep. For a moment, he just kneeled beside the tub, watching the cute expressions you made as he giggled in response. You really were the cutest thing he had ever seen. “Y/N~ Wake up, babe.”

You stirred with a groan, bringing your hand up to rub at your face. “Why am I wet?”

“Because you fell asleep in the bath, you dork.” Chenle stood up, grabbing the fluffy towel off the rack before holding it up length wise. “Come on, the food’s going to get cold!”

You used your foot to pull the plug, letting the water swirl down at the drain as you stood up, the cold air hitting your naked body and making you shiver. “Why’s it so damn cold in here?” You stepped out of the tub, feet on the dirty clothes rather than the cold tiles.

He hummed thoughtfully as he wrapped the towel around you. “The AC wasn’t on when I went to sleep.”

“Oh… Right, I think I turned it on at two because it was hot as Satan’s balls,” you mumbled.

“Another case solved,” he teased, slipping his hand into yours as he led you across the hall into the bedroom. You finished drying off your body as he pulled out your pajamas, clearly trying to make sure you didn’t fall asleep again before getting some food into your system.

After getting dressed, you followed him into the kitchen, catching a whiff of the food that had your mouth watering and stomach growling. “It smells so good~”

“Look out, Gordon Ramsay!” Chenle winked, taking a seat across from you at the small, square table.

You took a few bites, relishing the taste. ‘He’s such a good cook, how did I get so lucky?’ The fork stilled as the thought hit you. ‘He’s a good everything.’ And it was true. You felt extremely lucky to have such a supportive, loving boyfriend. Despite spending ninety-percent of your time playing games, he rarely complained while handling everything around the apartment while also working part-time at the bookstore and attending college. To be completely honest, you were sure that you would be dead by now if it weren’t for him.

Chenle noticed your shift in mood and frowned. “What’s wrong? Did I use too much salt?”

“Ah, no, the food is perfect.” You offered him a sad smile. “It’s just…”

He set his fork down before reaching across the table, his fingers curling around your own. “Talk to me, babe. What’s on your mind?”

“I’m just so thankful for you.” Your grip on his fingers tightened as you shifted your gaze to the food. “You’ve done so much for me and I never even say thank you. I know it’s not fair to you and… really, I don’t know how you put up with me.”

“I do it because I love you.” He smiled brightly, his thumb brushing across your skin. “I want you to succeed and I’ll help you however I can.”

“I know that, but it’s not fair. I’ve actually put a lot of thought into this for a while and… I’ve come to a decision.”

Chenle tilted his head, curious. “What is it?”

“After this tournament, whether I win or lose, I’m going to give up competitive gaming,” you declared, lifting your head to meet his eyes, which widened at the declaration.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yeah, I’ve given it a lot of thought. I’ve spent so many years chasing after this dream that I’ve missed out on a lot of stuff. It’s not healthy and, worst of all, I’ve been keeping you at arm’s length. I won’t lie – I want this so damn bad, but… I guess my journey isn’t meant to be anything more than just a fable about Y/N the second best.”

“I’m sorry,” he frowned, feeling his heart clench at your words. “I’ll support whatever you choose to do, but don’t give up just yet, babe.”

“Eh?”

Chenle grinned, holding up his fork. “If this is going to be your last tournament, you have to do your best!”

With a laugh, you clinked your fork against his. “I will, I promise!”

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You took a deep, shaky breath, in and out, but it did little to help calm your nerves. Your knee wouldn’t stop bouncing despite your silent commands for it to stop. The tournament had finally arrived but you were in the afternoon bracket, which meant there was a lot of waiting around, which only further fueled your nervousness. You could hear the announcer’s muffled voice as he commented on the current match, the roar of the crowd easily breaching the thick walls of the waiting room.

Chenle stepped inside, carrying two sports drinks as he took the seat on your left, offering you an encouraging smile. “You holding up okay?”

“Yeah… yeah, totally…”

His hand slipped into your own and he brought it to his soft lips. “Stay calm, babe, you’ve got this. You’ve been in hundreds of smaller tournaments, this one is just… slightly bigger!”

You smiled at his attempt to comfort you. “You’re right. Besides, it’s almost time and he hasn’t show up, so that’s a good… thing…”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear and appear he did. Oh Sehun stepped into the waiting room wearing a designer black suit, his hair slicked back into a pristine side part. He honestly looked more like a model than a gamer and seeing him made your body tense up, hands clenching around your shorts.

Chenle leaned closer to you, lowering his voice as he glanced at the other man. “Is that he-who-must-not-be-named?”

Under normal circumstances, you would have found the joke to be amusing, but these weren’t normal circumstances and you were far too tense at the moment. “Yeah, that’s him.”

“He doesn’t look so tough. You can do this!”

Your lips twitched up, warmth filling your chest. “Thank you, love.”

One of the producers entered the room, glancing down at his clipboard. “Block C and D, please make your way to the stage. Don’t forget your pass or you will not be allowed to compete.”

The other contestants stood up, filing out of the room. You took a deep breath as you got to your feet, but Chenle’s hand prevented you from moving. He stood up, his lips finding yours as burned with love and support. When he pulled away, his words were a mere whisper upon your lips. “You will be so much more than just a fable, babe, you’ll be written in the stars~”

“Thank you,” you whispered back, pecking his lips before following the line of people.

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“It’s down to the final four! Izumi Wataru from block A. Jiyoung Hong from block B. Sehun Oh from block C. And Y/N from block D. Who will take the crown and the title of e-sports Emperor?! Let’s find out!”

The countdown appeared on the screen that you sat in front of and you gripped the controller tightly within your grasp. The four of you sat in a square, the only lights coming from the bright spotlights beating down on you. Sehun was seated across from you, looking completely unfazed by the bright lights and the screaming crowd surrounding the group.

The game that had been randomly selected for the finals was a JRPG. Not your strongest genre, but you had experience with it, at least. The morning contestants had been given an FPS game, which was easily your worst genre, so you were thankful for something more familiar.

‘Calm down, Y/N. You’ve got this! This is your last chance to show the world that you’re not just second best!’

3, 2, 1, 0, GAME ON!

Your pre-made avatar loaded into the starting zone and you pushed the thumb stick forward to make your character move toward the first quest giver, dodging the NPC that forced a tutorial upon you if you got too close.

“It looks like Izumi got caught by the tutorial, wasting precious time! Sehun has made it to the second quest giver – he’s currently in first place!”

‘What? How?!’ A bead of sweat rolled down your cheeks as you willed your fingers to move faster.

The JRPG competition was a complicated one, with the score being calculated by several different factors. The biggest points come from how far you can get into the main story line within the one hour time limit. Points are also given for side quests, though the number is dramatically lower. The amount of gold collected is also a point factor, but it relies too heavily on luck because the loot is randomized. Finding hidden, secret, or rare items also boost your score, but if you’re unlucky, it’ll cost your valuable time.

‘Please… lord of games, give me luck!’

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A loud horn blasted through the arena as the screen flashed black before the pause menu came up, preventing you from doing anything else within the game. The hour was finally up and you felt so drained, your clothes damp with sweat, making you feel like a roasted turkey under the beaming lights. Even Sehun, with his never-ending poker face, was sweating, peeling the suit jacket from his body as he stood up. His eyes met yours briefly before he headed back toward the waiting room. With a scowl, you followed.

“We’ll be taking a quick break to determine the winner! Let’s give it up for our four finalists!”

The arena erupted with applause and hollers, which was quickly drowned out as you stepped into the back, using your sleeve to wipe the sweat from your forehead. The results would be tallied up any moment and you felt a wave of nervous nausea sweep over you. Forget the waiting room, you dropped into the first chair you came across, elbows on your knees as you hung your head.

“Babe? Are you okay?” Chenle frowned when he finally found you, kneeling in front of you as his hand rested upon your cheek. “You’re pale. Do you feel sick?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, running a hand through your hair. “It’s just nerves, though.”

“It better be,” he pouted, poking your cheek. “You’re not allowed to get sick, I forbid it!” It was subtle, but the corners of your lips twitched up a hair, making him grin proudly. “I made you smile, I win~ Where’s my prize?”

Your eyes met his and you hummed. “What do you want?”

He tapped his bottom lip in thought before his brown eyes met yours. “I want you to be happy no matter the result.”

Your expression softened as you brushed the hair back away from his eyes. “How can I not be happy when I have such a wonderful, supportive boyfriend at my side?”

“Fiance,” he corrected.

“What?”

“I was going to wait until you got the results, but~” he dug into the pocket of his jeans, producing a ring that you thought was the most beautiful ring you had ever seen. A hopeful smile came to his lips as he took your hand. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

It felt like the breath had been knocked from your lungs, so instead of answering with words, you nodded frantically, throwing your arms around his neck. He laughed happily, standing up so he could spin you around before sliding the ring onto your finger. His forehead rested against your own, eyes shimmering with warmth and love. “I love you so much, babe.”

“I love you, too, Chenle.”

“Final four, please head back out!” One of the producers called as she speed-walked down the hall.

“You got this.” Chenle rubbed your arms. “No matter what happens, I’ll be here for you.”

You nodded, pecking his lips before pulling away to follow the other two, Sehun coming up behind you. The four of you wished each other good luck before heading back out into the arena and onto the platform where the announcer was waiting. To be honest, your entire perspective had flipped in the ten minutes since the tournament ended. You had been so hyper-focused on winning, on beating Sehun, that nothing else had mattered to you, but now… that seemed so insignificant to you. All you could think about was marrying Chenle, spending your life with one and, one day, starting a family with him.

Suddenly, it didn’t matter if you won or lost. Chenle was easily the most important thing in your life and, somewhere along the way, you had lost focus of your dream. At some point, it had stopped being about doing your best to win the tournament and had morphed into this spiral of obsession about beating Sehun. It didn’t matter if they called you the second-best, it wasn’t important to you anymore.

When you looked out to the crowd, your eyes instantly found him, his hands clasped together in hope that you would win. You realized what you had to do.

“And first place goes to –”

“Wait a minute,” you called out, catching the announcer by surprise. Whispers swept through the crowd as all eyes turned to you, trying to figure out what you were about to say.

“Is there a problem?” He questioned before holding the microphone closer to you so your voice could be heard throughout the arena.

“I would like to withdraw from the competition.”

A gasp went through the crowd as they shifted with unease. Chenle stood up from his seat, eyes wide as he watched you. The other contestants stared at you like you had lost your mind, and the announcer glanced at the producers, unsure of how to proceed. “Are you sure about this?”

You didn’t hesitate. “I’m positive.”

He cleared his throat. “Contestant Y/N from block D has resigned from the competition. Please exit the stage.”

“Thank you very much!” You bowed at the hip before straightening your back and returning to the back with your head held high.

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Your hand slid into Chenle’s, fingers lacing together as the two of you headed for the exit of the arena, talking about your plans for the future. Just as you reached the door, someone called out your name and you paused, turning around.

Sehun came to a stop a few feet away, his eyebrows knitted together as he thought about what he wanted to say. “Are you retiring?”

“I am.”

“I see,” he frowned.

“Did you win?”

“Yes.”

You offered him a genuine smile. “I figured you would. Congratulations.”

Sehun suddenly bowed at the hip. “Thank you for being my rival all of these years. You always pushed me to do better.”

“You… You considered me as your rival?” Your eyes widened in surprise and you found this information to be hard to believe. All of this time, you had just assumed he didn’t even know you existed.

He straightened up and nodded. “I only stayed at the top because of you. You’re a good gamer, it’s a shame that you’re retiring so young.” Sehun glanced at the ring on your finger and, for the first time, you saw emotion on his face as he smiled softly. “Congratulations on your engagement.”

You could only watch as he walked away, your brain trying to process this new information. Chenle wrapped his arms around you from behind, his chin resting upon your shoulder. “Do you regret it, babe?”

“I regret not getting to know him.” You answered honestly, your hands resting on his arms. “But I don’t regret retiring. I somehow feel lighter.”

“I’m glad,” he mumbled softly, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. And you were, too.

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📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

[bts-imagines-scenarios-fanfics]

Running a Bath for their S/O to Celebrate a New Job

Requested by Anon

Part One

Jin

“Angel! I have a surprise for you!” If you would like to replay this message press 1 if you would like to delete this message press 2 to skip to the next message-

Even when not asked, Jin is the sweetest boyfriend. I’ve been gone almost all week because of my new job and he’s been nothing but a sweetheart. I had asked him not to do anything for my new job, but I knew it was inevitable. I can’t help but laugh to myself as I make my way home, excitement bubbling within me.

So far everything looks normal, the lights inside are off, maybe he decided to listen. I step inside with a twist of the handle. This is the moment I realized I had fallen for him. The whole house was covered in candle and rose petals. This cheesy fuck. Slowly stepping inside I remove my jacket, as I do so I feel a pair of hands slide it off my arms.

“Welcome home, baby.” One arm stays wrapped around me as he places my coat on the rack next to us then proceeds to wrap around me as well. I can’t help but snuggle closer to him, leaning my head back to rest on his shoulder, kissing lightly on the smooth skin of his neck. I can feel his hands slipping under the hem of my top, fingertips drawing shapes on my hips as I sink further into him.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” He chuckles at my question, bringing his hands off of my stomach and moving them to my shoulders, turning me gently so I can face him.

“Many times, love. Tonight is all about you... come with me.” As he walks past me I can finally drink him all in; dressed in my favorite silk top, the pink fabric stretching over his broad frame as he walks, complemented by a pair of simple dress pants. He is honestly the hottest thing I have ever seen. My legs carry me after him, quickening to catch up to him as he turns the corner to our bathroom. The rest of our house is fairly modest, but one thing we did allow ourselves to spend extra on was the bathroom. A shower big enough for two, all the newest and greatest commodities, including a tub complete with jets for a sauna experience; all of which has been covered in flowers and candles.

“I hope you like it...” A timid look graced his delicate features as he glanced back at me where I stood in awe of this man.

“You’re too good for me.” At my statement he laughed, his hand reaching out, caressing my cheek, down my neck and arm to grab my hand and pull me closer.

“You deserve it.” His lips press against mine gently, pulling away as I try to deepen the kiss.

“Here, let me undress you.” His voice is thick with lust as he speaks, despite that he moves with slow hands until I stand bare in front of him. Scooping me up into his arms I found myself in a trance, unable to look away from him even as I’m lowered into the warm water. I’m sure he said something, his lips moved and his hands reached for the champagne that sat on the rim of the bath but no reply formed in my mouth as I sat there watching him. Watching how his muscles rippled under the shirt with each movement, how his fingers wrapped so easily around the bottle as he poured us both a glass, his lips as he sipped his drink with a hint of a smile... I hadn’t even realized I had been drinking as well until I had nothing left in my glass. He grabbed it from me, placing it on the sink before coming to kneel by my side.

“You seem distracted.” This time I heard him, his words echoed in my head as a smirk slipped onto his plump lips. I couldn’t stop myself from leaning in to capture them, my hands grasping his collar, pulling him closer. I let our lips separate for a brief moment, still brushing together as I spoke,

“Join me?” He gave no verbal reply, Only leaning in further to continue our make out session, slowly climbing in to join me, never leaving my lips for anything but to catch a breath. His clothes clung to him as water splashed around us, his shirt sticking to his chest, showing off his toned form as I ran my nails down his back. One by one the buttons of his top were undone as our teeth clashed together, mouths moving too fast as we tried to get as close as possible. Peeling off his the silky shirt was my favorite part, like unwrapping a gift I tore it from his body, my hands running over his exposed skin in a desperate attempt to memorize the feeling of his body. He tossed it to the side, the wet fabric slapping against the tile floor as we continued our amorous fun. He rid himself of his pants as I teethed at his exposed chest, letting my teeth graze his nipples once or twice just to hear the sound of his breath being sucked in harshly as he tries not to moan.

“You don’t play fair.” His lips pouted so cutely, only prompting me to repeat my actions, his pout disappearing into a moan as I suck gently on one nipple, my hand toying with the other as I rolled it between my fingers.

“Yah~” His voice comes out broken and shaky, “I’m supposed to treat you today.” A chuckle, allowing him to go free, relaxing against the tub so he towers over me in his position where he sits, straddling my hips. His cheeks are dusted a rosy pink, lips swollen from kissing, and his hands, both placed on my thighs with fingertips gently scratching against my skin.

“I wanted to take care of you for once...mommy.” I couldn't help but bight my lip at his pleading voice, only nodding in reply, too scared of what might come out of my mouth. He smiled a bit, obviously nervous, as he let his hands trail up my thighs. Very seldom does he take control, normally I take the lead in the bedroom and he submits so willingly. I can’t say I mind it though, as his firm hands spread my legs. I feel him teasingly spread my lips, allowing a finger to glide against my slick folds. My hips jerk slightly, already seeking out pleasure, but only met with the firm force of his other hand pinning them down.

“Baby...don’t tease me, please.” My teeth took firm hold of my bottom lip as I tried to quiet my whimpers while his fingers ghosted over my entrance. He didn’t stop as soon as I wanted, but after a few moments he allowed one finger to slip in, moving slowly as he pumped in and out, a second finger soon following. Despite my attempts, my moans slipped out as he curled his fingers upward, the pressure being directed at my sweet spot over and over again, I knew I was close to the edge.

“Hold on for me...” His fingers slid out of me giving me time to recoup for a moment before he slid in. I could feel him pulsing inside me, already on the brink of his own orgasm as he pushed into me slowly. Only after a few thrusts both of us were coming undone with shuddering bodies and breathless moans.

Yoongi

It wasn’t uncommon for Yoongi to be romantic, despite his cool demeanor he was actually a complete softie. When I got my new job he warned me there would be a celebration, but my schedule had become so packed there was never really time. He decided though, since we both would be home early today, that we would spend the night together at his place. I was nervous, although we’ve been together for over a year now, I’d never spent the night at his, we normally crash at my apartment, simply because of ease most the time. I took a deep breath before knocking on the door...then it opened and my breath was gone. I couldn’t believe my eyes, he stood before me, porcelain skin exposed, a towel hung loosely around his hips as he leaned against the door frame.

“Hey...” His voice was low and rough as he spoke with his hand outreached for mine. I took his hand with caution and allowed him to pull me inside. For a moment we stood there, watching each other, my eyes couldn’t move away from the slow rise and fall of his chest, from the deep breaths he was taking I was reassured that he was just as nervous as me.

“...I figured, maybe we could take a bath... together. If you want.” His tone wasn’t as sure as it normally is, typically he’s so certain of himself. It’s hard to say for certain, but there’s a hint of a blush on his cheeks, his eyes have dropped to the floor as he shifts from leg to leg, obviously anxious for my reply.

“That sounds perfect.” I take hold of his hand as I reply, giving it a gentle squeeze to try and reassure him. It seems to work as he lifts his head with a small smile lingering on his lips. He gives a short nod accompanied by a hum as he pulls me further inside. His apartment is as I remember it, very minimalist but still refined in every piece. His hand is clammier than normal, like the first time I held it, filled with nerves he was so clumsy back then; I can’t help but chuckle at the thought. His head turns at the sound of my laugh,

“What?” His tone is sharp but it’s easy to tell it’s from the nerves that he’s on guard. My smile only grows.

“I’m lucky to be with you.” I say with a wink; his face is turned a bright red immediately. I live to see this boy flustered it is the absolute most stunning thing I will ever live to see. His pace quickens until we reach the door of the bathroom, he hesitates as he reaches for the handle before he grips it firmly and slides the door open. I gasp audibly in awe of this. The room is filled with soft music and dim lights, the tub sits ready filled with shimmering water and bubbles, on the counter top, two glasses of wine and a rose. he turns and pulls me inside, closing the door behind me and gently hugging my waist from behind.

“Did I do okay?” His words are mumbled against my neck where he leaves butterfly kisses. I let my hands find his where the sit on my torso.

“You’re too much for me to handle. How are you so perfect?” His response comes in the form of more kisses trailing along my jaw until he finds my lips. He pulls away and for a moment all I can do is stare at the ethereal beauty that is now standing in front of me. He’s staring too, taking in my full form now that he’s given a chance, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I feel like this is the first time I’m seeing you...Have you always been this pretty?” I can’t help but glance down at what I’m wearing, it’s not much, just a simple straight dress, but his stare is one of amazement and love; it’s so intense I feel myself getting dizzy. He’s like my own personal drug, I’m addicted. It doesn’t occur to me that I’m touching him, but I see that my hand is resting on his chest, right over his heart and suddenly I’m fully aware of what’s going on and my face is tinted a nice shade of embarrassed. I don’t move it though, it’s not often I get to be so close to him these days, so for tonight I’ll be selfish and indulge in this. His heart is racing underneath his smooth skin, it’s an oddly comforting piece of information and I allow myself to relax slightly. I bring my other hand to his should, slowly sliding against him until it’s reached the back of his neck, pulling myself closer until our breath is mixed together, his lips part as if he was waiting for a kiss. It’s a soft kiss at first, something so innocent and sweet, until his hands slip down to my hips. His firm grasp pulls me closer, our bodies rubbing together and I can feel him pressing against me.

“Is this okay?” His question throws me off for a second, then I realize what he means. I give him a small nod, pecking him on the cheek and trailing my hands up and down his chest, letting my nails graze his skin. He slips his hands under the hem of my dress, pulling it over my head quickly, hands tracing my figure slowly. When his hands reach around to undo the clasp of my bra chills run down my spine, his fingertips are cold and swift as they move. He continues to strip me, thumbs hooking into my panties as he slides them down my legs, a chuckle from him once he sees the wetness in them.

“Seems to me like you’re excited, too.” From his position, crouched in front of me, his breath is right on my most sensitive area. He notices, too. His lips come together and gently blow, the cool air creating a new feeling that shoots up my body to my chest. He repeats it, again and again, until my legs are shaking and my thighs are slick with arousal. Taking hold of my thighs, he spreads them, making room for himself between them as he inches closer. He looks up at me as he dives in, not giving me a second to react as he attacks my clit with quick work of his tongue. I feel each movement as he laps away at my sensitive bud, it isn’t long before I’m coming undone, my juices dripping onto him as I grab his shoulders for stabilization. He doesn’t stop until my first orgasm finishes, his face slick with my wetness, his lips covered in me. He stands slowly, taking my hand and using the other to wrap around my waist and keep me upright as he walks me to the tub. He helps me step in and then slips in behind me. I can feel his erection against my back as he massages my body in the warm water, hands soothing my thighs, trying to relax me.

“Can you go again for me, baby girl? I’ve been waiting all day for you.” His pleading does little to calm me, my heart racing at his words while his lips brush against my ear. I can only nod, leaning back to kiss his jaw, nibbling lightly as he moves me onto his lap. I help him, raising my hips so he can slip in. Despite already cumming he still feels big, my entrance stretching around him as I sink down onto his length slowly. I can tell by the tight grip he has on my hips that he is trying his hardest not to go too fast, his fingers are sure to leave delicious bruises in the morning. Once he’s fully inside me he gives me a second to adjust, but the moment I start to move my hips he takes it as a sign to go. His thrusts are needy and merciless as the hit the deepest parts of me. I’m moaning, gripping onto the sides of the tub, looking for anyway to hold on just a bit longer for him, but his angle is just perfect, hitting my g-spot every time.

“Yoongi! I’m close~” I sputter out my warning as he continues pounding into me. I feel him twitch inside me, he slips a hand down to my clit, moving in fast circles to draw me to my orgasm. I can feel him getting close but as he bites down on my shoulder I release, the clench of my walls bringing him to his high as well. His steady thrusts now stuttering as we both  calm down, riding out our highs. For a bit we’re just sitting there, our chests rising and falling rapidly, his hands find mine, entwining our fingers as he wraps his arms around me.

Our breaths steady, he slips out of me and turns, grabbing our glasses of wine.

“Congrats on your job, baby, work hard.”

Hello! This Scenario will be done in sections because it is longer stories, in between these I will be completing other scenarios, but don’t worry, I have not forgotten about the rest of these members

Part One: Jin and Yoongi completed

Part Two: Hoseok and Namjoon

Part Three: Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook

Thank you :)

[eatgraypes]

Baby Shower

Character/Person : James Madison

Pairing : James Madison x Reader

Time : Modern

Reader’s Gender : Female

Side Note : i had to do some research on jefferson’s wife so i could find out her name and what she looked like lol

Warnings : smut duh

Possibility Of Having Another Part : eh

Genre : Smut

Request : Hey uhhh can I request a Reader × James Mads smut and he really likes her legs( cause why not) and when they are getting ready for this party get together thing they get side tracked ;))) (I'll stop I'm sorry 😂) yeahhh thanks (can you feel the intense awkwardness) by @kimmy-h-life

Word Count : 2507

Summary : Close friends of yours, Thomas Jefferson and his wife Martha Jefferson, invite you to their baby shower to celebrate an incoming member of their family. While getting ready for said baby shower, things get a little... side tracked.

You held your boyfriend’s arm tightly as you both maneuvered into the coffee shop to meet Thomas and his significant other.

Before you could reach forward and grab onto the handle of the door to pull it open, James removed his arm that was linked in yours to open it for you. You smiled and held out your arm for him to take again. 

Arm in arm you both walked in and scanned the place for Jefferson’s booth, immediately spotting him due to his head of hair. You stifled a laugh as he patted his hair for the third time that you’ve arrived at the shop.

“Jefferson,” James called out.

At the sound of James’s voice, Jefferson removed his gaze from his lover to look up at the two of you. His eyes rolled as an audible scoff left his lips. He waited a few seconds for the two of you to near before he said what was on his mind, “God, when are you two never polite? The only PDA I’m getting from you is arm holding and Eskimo kisses.”

You smiled and shrugged as James nuzzled your cheek just to spite Thomas. Thomas groaned at the sight of you giggling while his best friend continued to pepper your cheek with kisses.

“God, do you two even fuck?” 

A blush crept up your neck and you turned to meet an awkward gaze with James, who took out his handkerchief to cough not so subtly in.

“Uh,”

you composed yourself before James could.

“It’s really none of your business.”

Thomas’s eyebrows shot up and he threw his hands up in mock surrender, “damn okay. James likes them feisty, note taken.” His southern drawl only made your irritation grow, along with his wide grin.

“So, why did you call us here.” James asked, after stuffing his handkerchief back into his pocket and rubbing small circles on the back of your hand.

Thomas eyed your intertwined hands and the circles that James traced on your hand before scoffing and sipping his coffee loudly.

“Right,” he set down his cup and threw an arm around his lover, otherwise known as Martha Jefferson.

“Baby shower.”

Your eyes widened as you quickly reached over to hold Martha’s hand in glee.

“Congrats, Martha!” As you leaned over the table your dress rode up, exposing your thighs that were hovering right above James’s lap. His gaze dropped from Thomas’s to your legs. His jaw clenched and he pulled his handkerchief to cough into it, trying to distract himself from your exposed body.

Thomas’s lips were upturned into a smirk, knowing well enough about his best friend’s attraction to legs.

He picked his mug up and pulled it to his lips, sipping loudly and eyeing you as you sat back down and continued to smile at Martha.

James cleared his throat, “so, when is this baby shower?”

Thomas being too occupied with his drink to speak, he glanced at Martha as she smiled and run her finger along the handle of her glass.

“Next week. We hope you’ll be there.”

You nodded your head vigorously. “Of course. We’ll clear our schedules.”

Thomas smirked and bit his tongue, eyes trailing down from his wife to his menu.

“You better arrive smelling like fresh sex.”

Martha slapped at her husband’s shoulders, scolding him as he snickered, too focused on James and yourself’s beet red faces to fully feel the whacks Martha was giving him.

“Thomas!”

Your legs rubbed at each other awkwardly as you lifted a spare menu to take your attention off of Thomas’s comment, oblivious to James’s eyes staring at your legs.

Today was Tuesday, the day of Thomas and Martha Jefferson’s baby shower. It was an event everyone that was invited was looking for, just because Thomas promised that he wouldn’t get blackout drunk and everyone was excited to see Thomas try and control his drinking. You knew he wasn’t going to last for long before he chugs down any type of alcohol at the party. He’s probably already drunk, and the party doesn’t start in three hours.

You slipped into your floor length robe and walked into your shared bedroom that was connected to the bathroom.

“James, you’re not getting dressed?” You eyed your boyfriend who sat quietly on the bed, texting Thomas.

“Honey, the party doesn’t start until four.”

You shrugged and made your way over to your vanity table, taking a seat to do your makeup. Plucking one of your makeup bags from your desk you unzipped it and picked one of your brushes to use.

It took you a while to get your makeup done, but the overall result made your best features stand out, so it was worth the time it took.

You turned your head around to scan the room for your clock that was hung right above your doorway to the bathroom where James was taking a shower.

3:14 P.M.

Thinning your lips, you rotated in your chair and pulled at the towel that was wrapped around your hair, letting it down. You ran your fingers through your locks, checking to see if it was dry enough to start working on it. No dice.

You stood up and made a bee line for your closet. Running your fingers over the hefty amount of clothes, you found yourself growing more and more worried that you didn’t have a perfect fitting dress for the baby shower in time. Surely, you didn’t want to make James late for his best friend’s baby shower.

Your thoughts were interrupted when your fingers stopped at an eye catching color. You knew this dress. Martha gifted it to you once. She claimed it was a color that would look great on you, and you had yet to put it on.

You pulled it out of your closet and lifted it to your chest at the full body mirror that hung on your wall right next to the closet.

It was sleeveless and the skirt was dangerously short, stopping at the your mid thigh.

You tugged at the stash of your robe, loosening the tie on it. Shrugging it off, it dropped to your ankles as you stepped out of it, revealing your bare body underneath.

Taking one last look at how the dress would look on your body, you removed your gaze from the mirror to actually slip on the dress and look at the final result.

Shimmying it on, you stared at how the dress complimented your figure perfectly. So intent on looking at your figure, you didn’t catch James approaching you from behind.

“God, you look perfect,” he whispered into the shell of your ear. You shivered and took a second to let your eyes travel down his body in the mirror, stopping shortly at the towel that hung low on his hips. Your face burned as you made quick work of returning your attention to your own body; James seemed to do so too. 

You could feel James’s eyes rake over your body and take in the sight, licking his lips in the process.

“You know,” he pressed his pelvic into ass, making a groan escape your lips, “we don’t have to be on time.”

It took you a minute to register his words, but when you did, a pool of heat leaked into your panties and subconsciously, your thighs clenched. James chuckled lowly at this, the sound going straight to your core and sending vibrations through your body. You stifled a moan, much to James’s dismay.

He let out an animalistic sound and ran a hand down your body, going from your chest to your lower area and stopping at your clit. Your breath hitched when he rubbed circles on it all the while he ground his hips into yours. You tossed your head back into his shoulder and arched your back.

“You were such a fucking tease last week,” you moaned at his words and pressed your hands against the full body mirror, slowly glancing up to meet his piercing, lust filled gaze. “Leaning over the table and showing off those damn legs.” He ran his free hand that wasn’t teasing you along your thigh and up to your right breast, kneading it. Your breath soon became short shudders as you leaned into the mirror for support, your mind fogged as you racked your brain for things to say; all that would come out of your mouth were moans that only edged James further.

“Fuck, babygirl,” your legs gave out and you collapsed onto your knees. Your sweaty hand slid down the mirror and you glanced up, eyes meeting with James who grinned down on you. “On your feet, babygirl. I want you to watch yourself when I fuck you.”

Your thighs pressed against each other, trying to get some sort of friction out of this while James continued to dirty talk you from above. Slowly, you found your breath and managed to stand up and return to facing the mirror. Your panties were absolutely soaked at this point and your clit throbbed for attention, you almost slid a hand down there to continue yourself, but with how much dominance James was starting to reveal you were too excited to see what he would do next.

Taking in his bottom lip between his teeth, he hitched up your dress and pushed your panties to the side, running a finger in between your folds. His fingers were slick when he brought them up to show you, taking his finger into his mouth, making eye contact with you as he did so. You groaned, becoming very impatient, but deciding on not acting on it.

He returned his hand back to your pussy and pumped his finger in it, slowly at first, and not fully. You lowered your hips to push his finger into you, wanting to feel him. James laughed and fully slid his finger in, then another, then another.

Your walls clenched around him as he fingered you, pushing in and out at a consistent pace. He groaned at the thought of you squeezing around him instead of his fingers.

“James,” you managed to get out. Your eyes shut and only fluttered open when James grabbed your chin and pushed your head up to keep your eyes focused on yourself in the mirror.

“Yes, babygirl?”

Your knees bucked, you exhaled shakily, “I- I need you.”

He remained silent, letting his actions speak louder than his words. Sliding his fingers out of you, you whimpered at the loss of contact and awaited for him to slide into you instead. It didn’t come. Your eyes shot open and you looked at him in your reflection to only be greeted with a questioning gaze. Your eyebrows furrowed when he leaned in and pressed his tip against your dripping core.

“I need you to beg,” he smiled wickedly and ran his tongue along his teeth.

It took a bit of hesitation and recovery from his sudden question, but you managed with: “James, please.”

He shook his head and pushed himself a little bit further into you, you tried to sink back into him, but he held your hips painfully in place. There were gonna be bruises down there for sure.

“James, please, I need you.”

He cocked his head innocently and pulled out, “need my what?”

You groaned in frustration and pleaded, “I need your cock! I need you inside me!”

James clicked his tongue and slowly pushed himself into you. Suddenly feeling a bit full, he paused and awaited for you to give him the clear. You nodded and grounded your hips onto his. He met your thrusts and created a solid rhythm, rocking your body with his. He grabbed your boob and ran his thumb over your erect nipple making you moan in response. With his other hand, he tangled his fingers through your hair to pull and make a makeshift ponytail out of to tug on. Your mouth fell open, allowing a series of pleasurable sounds to fall out carelessly.

A knot in your stomach formed and it only drew closer when James leaned into you and whispered how much he wanted you to come in your ear and pulled at your hair even harder than before. Your head was thrown back and returned to place when James held you tightly, “look at yourself,” he whispered.

At his words, you focused your attention onto the mirror in front of you. It was slightly fogged, but it was clear enough to see what was happening. Your breasts hung low, one being captured in James’s hand, swinging back and forth due to his powerful thrusts. You could see a thin layer of sweat coating both of your bodies and catching sight of James’s lustful gaze twisted something in your stomach. It wasn’t long before you were writhing underneath him and releasing on him.

He came right after, the feeling of your walls squeezing around him helping him come. He rode you throughout both of your orgasms and soon, you were sweating some of your makeup off and your hair was tangled again after brushing it.

“So,” you started, shooting a teasing smirk over at James who only showed confusion. “You’re into my legs.” He groaned and covered his face with his hands, throwing his body back into the bed. You walked over, adjusted your dress, and laid back into his thrown out arms.

“I love you,” he whispered after a bit of panting. You smiled, laughing silently at his timing, “I love you too.”

Both you and James walked into Thomas and Martha’s backyard, being immediately met with the blasting sound of music and smell of food. James unlinked his arms with yours and pushed open the gate, holding out his arm for you to retake, which you did so happily. You were still a flustered mess from earlier, but you were able to mask your aftersex look with a new outfit and brushing your hair over again.

“Madison, Y/N!” Thomas called out, spotting you two. He rushed over and smiled brightly, you and James reciprocated his expression. James reached out to hug him but Thomas paused, Martha sauntered over with a hand over her slightly there baby bump and a glass of sparkling water. Thomas sniffed, “is that..” A knowing look crossed his face.

“Is that the stench of sex?” Thomas snickered as he watched you and James become flustered, clamping his hand over James’s shoulder in a congratulating stance, noting how quiet the two of you were.

“Well,” he picked a cheese cube and twirled it by the toothpick in his finger, “see you at your baby shower.” With that, he popped the cube into his mouth, did that shit eating grin, and walked off with Martha in tow, who sent you an apologetic smile over her shoulder.

You swallowed a lump in your throat and turned to face James, who thinned his lips and scanned the backyard for something to distract himself from Thomas’s taunts.

“Cheese cube?” You nodded violently. “Please.”

[everlarkbirthdaydrabbles]

My birthday is April 28th. I don't maintain a blog on Tumblr though. I created an account just to follow the fabulous fellow Everlarkers here. If you can, I will take anything I can get but if possible, some smut please. *bambi eyes*

Happy birthday! Here is a little something special cooked up just for you by @katnissdoesnotfollowback. Have a wonderful day and enjoy the read!

Have Your Cake and Eat It Too

Happiest of birthdays toyou! I hope you enjoy what I’ve cooked up for you and it adds to to yourcelebration. Thanks to @peetabreadgirl for prereading this sucker.  

TWENTY-FIVE

“I’m gonna be late. Please tell me you made somehot water for tea this morning,” Peeta says to his brother as he rushes intothe kitchen and tosses his bag on the counter.

“Gotta move faster, old man,” Ryen teases, butlowers his newspaper enough to point to the kettle sitting on a siliconetrivet.

“You’re two years older than me,” Peetagrumbles, not bothering to look at what he is sure is a self-satisfied smirk onhis brother’s face, choosing instead to focus on pouring the water into histravel mug and dropping in a tea bag to steep.

“Yes, but nothing good happens aftertwenty-five. They expect you to be an adult after twenty-five. For real,” Ryencomplains and Peeta curses as the hot liquid splashes over the edges onto hishand when he moves it a little too forcefully towards the spot where he leftthe lid.

“Graham would disagree,” he mutterssarcastically as he shakes the tea droplets off his hand and wipes the residueon a towel. His skin stings, but he doesn’t have time to deal with it.

“Graham is an idiot,” Ryen returns, but hedoesn’t say the rest of what they’re both thinking.

Their oldest brother is currently racked out ontheir couch, having crashed there and made himself at home a month ago when hiswife filed for divorce and their parents insisted that Peeta and Ryen needed to‘take care of their poor, stressed out brother in his time of need.’ Grahamhasn’t budged to find himself a new place since, choosing instead to revert tohis bachelor lifestyle and mooching off his two younger, single brothers.

But lately, in addition to the aggravation oftheir parents’ coddling of him, he’s been driving both Ryen and Peeta insane bydispensing what he calls ‘pearls of wisdom,’ which is basically theirbrother’s idea of life advice, but they both know it’s really Graham’s way offeeling better about himself…by making them feel inferior about their lives.For Ryen, it’s the promotion he didn’t get – and didn’t want because it meantmoving to another city. For Peeta, it’s the fact that for the past two years,he hasn’t had a steady girlfriend – and hasn’t wanted one since every datehe’s been on in that time has felt like a betrayal.

“Since he’s so deep in divorce attorney billsthat he apparently can’t even spare a twenty for a birthday present, he’sdetermined to get you laid tonight,” Ryen warns, making Peeta jump and bang theback of his head on the fridge. He winces and sighs when he sees that they’reout of milk. Slams the fridge shut to glare at his brother.

“His idea, not mine,” Ryen insists, holding hishands up in what’s meant to be an innocent gesture.

“You expect me to believe you didn’t have a handin that suggestion? Right. Well, tell him that I’m not interested,” Peeta saysand slings his bag over his shoulder, grabbing his tea and his blazer, andrushing out the front door, thumb entering a reminder into his phone to pick upmilk and a few other essentials they’ve run out of on his way home from work.He’ll have to stop by the school’s cafeteria to get some milk for his tea, andput himself even further behind schedule. His lunch break will simply need tobe sacrificed to finish grading papers for his afternoon classes.

“Tell him yourself, old man. And have a niceday, Dipshit!”

“You too, Asshole,” Peeta shouts over hisshoulder and then comes up short at the sight waiting for him out on theirdriveway. His best friend, leaning against his car door with a brown paper sackin her hands, her car parked out on the street. His lips automatically curve upin a smile that she returns.

“Happy Birthday, Peeta,” Katniss says as sheshoves herself off his car and steps aside so he can toss his things inside.

“It is now,” he replies, missing the slightflush that spreads across her cheeks while his head is in his car and hisattention on getting his tea into the cup holder without spilling more andburning himself again.

When he stands upright to focus on Katniss, shebrushes some lint off his shoulder and he tucks his hands in his pockets so hedoesn’t do something stupid like haul her against his chest and kiss hersenseless.

“Any big plans for tonight, birthday boy?” sheasks, oblivious to what her melodic voice and words do to him. Usually theywould’ve made plans by now, but they’ve both been so busy at work, they haven’thad a chance to talk about it in more than a general capacity.

“Avoiding my brothers’ schemes to spice up mylife,” he says and Katniss laughs. “Care to help me with that?”

“Sure,” she says and reaches out to straightenhis tie and ruffle his hair a little. He’s not sure what was wrong with itbefore, but Katniss seems satisfied with his appearance now, and that’s goodenough for him. “Netflix and dinner? I know it’s not exciting…”

“Sounds great,” he says with a smile, alreadyrelaxed at the idea of spending his birthday lounging on the couch with hisclosest friend.

“Since it is your birthday, I’ll cook.Johanna has a date tonight, though, so I suggest your place,” she admits with aquirk of her lips and Peeta has to smother a laugh.

The last time they hung out at her place,Katniss’ roommate had brought home a date and gave the pornography industry arun for its money in the erotic noises department. Katniss had been soembarrassed until Peeta suggested they head up the street to MidnightMilkshakes, an ice cream place that stays open until well into the early hoursof morning. They’d both been exhausted at work the next day, but it’d beenworth it to spend the time talking and laughing with her over a shared caramelapple milkshake.

“I’ll get rid of my obnoxious brothers. Sixo’clock alright?” he asks and Katniss nods, shoving the brown sack at hischest. “What’s this?”

“Breakfast,” she says and he smiles as he peeksinside to find one of his favorites from his family’s bakery, a savorycroissant wrapped around a slice of ham, some cheese, and eggs. When he looksup to thank her, her mouth bumps into his. He freezes. His heart thuds wildlyin his chest as she pulls back, too soon for his brain to register anything importantlike texture or taste or reality. Her cheeks flush bright red and she looksaway from him faster than the kiss lasted.

“Um, so, yeah. See you tonight, Peeta,” shemumbles as she practically sprints to her car.

He waits until she’s turned the corner before hedrops heavily into his driver seat. His brain makes no note of the drive towork, too occupied playing the moment over and over in his head, trying to makesense of why Katniss kissed him. Of what makes today so different from anyother day they’ve spent together, and desperately trying to not get his hopesup. She didn’t look too excited about kissing him, after all. She basically ranfor the hills as soon as it was over.

“Ah, fuck. Stupid, stupid stupid,” he mutters tohimself, thumping his head onto his steering wheel after he’s parked in theteacher’s lot and the truth punches him in the gut. She was aiming for hischeek. Of course she was aiming for his cheek. That would make sense,since she’s kissed him there before, but Peeta lifted his head at the wrongmoment and instead accidentally forced her to kiss him on the mouth. No wondershe was so embarrassed.

With a heavy sigh, he shoves himself from hiscar and grabs his things. Now he’s going to have to figure out how to apologizefor the faux pas of kissing his best friend in front of his house, withoutletting on that he’s madly in love with her.

Happy Birthday, indeed.

**************************

TWENTY-ONE

‘Just let these little leaves fall off yourbrush. All kinds of little things happy. And go out sometime in the woods andstudy trees. Talk to trees. Whatever it takes. The tree needs to be your friendif you’re going to paint him.’

“Hey,” a smoky female voice says in his rightear, making him jump and tug out the earbud from his left. “As much as I enjoywatching you paint along with Bob Ross, you might want to pay attention. She’sabout to tell us what’s gonna be on the test on Friday.”

Peeta doesn’t turn around because Professor Coinis inspecting the rows of students, steely eyes looking out for anyone notpaying attention or talking. He ducks his head, pauses his video, and switcheswindows on his laptop before typing madly for a second or two. When Coin turnsher back on the class again, he angles his head enough to mutter over hisshoulder at his thoughtful neighbor. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Paint me the cabin by the lake nextlecture and we’ll call it even,” she says and he can hear the jaded smile inher voice. He wonders what she looks like, but Coin’s throwing rapid fireterminology and concepts at them to review so he remains facing forward.

He hates this class, and he rarely ever hateshis classes, but economics is just so boring. There’s no life to it andhe took up painting in a drawing app in one window while Bob Ross’s sonorousvoice calmly talks about happy trees and other far less stressful things inanother window to get him through the hours of drudgery. Still, he didn’t wantto be called out as a slacker, so he was always careful to only use one earbudso half his brain could pretend to focus on the lecture.

As the list of material to be covered on thetest lengthens, he keeps stealing looks at the clock in the bottom right cornerof his screen, counting down the minutes until he can finally talk to the girlbehind him. His curiosity is piqued and he wonders if she’s been watching himpaint for the past two months. It should bother him, having someone look overhis shoulder like that, but if it’s gotten her through the dull lectures too,he can’t be sorry about it.

He wracks his memory for an image of her, but healways gets to this class a little early since that’s the way the bus schedulesworked out, comes in through doors that enter the massive lecture hall from theupper level and walks down the stairs to his seat, and then doesn’t really lookbehind him during the class. He’s certain he’d remember if someone was sittingright behind him when he arrives, so she must get to this class after him.

Finally, Coin wraps things up and Peeta twistsaround in his seat to catch her before she leaves, she’s bent over her bookbag, stuffing her textbook and a binder into it, her dark hair in a braid, partiallyobscuring her face from him.

“Hey, thanks again,” he says, catching herattention as she sits up and looks at him with pewter gray eyes. A distantmemory sends bells ringing in his head, but he extends his hand to her anyways.“I’m Peeta.”

“Katniss,” she says, but makes no move to shakehis hand.

“Katniss Everdeen?” he asks and hopes his voiceisn’t as squeaky and stunned as it sounds in his head. Her eyes narrow a littleand he shakes his head, clearing the fog that seems to be obscuring his abilityto think. “We went to Panem Twelfth District Elementary together. I’m PeetaMellark? Dad owned the bakery?”

“Oh. Yeah,” she says, and he’s not convincedthat she remembers him. Why would she? She didn’t even know he was alive backthen, but he had the biggest crush on her until the mines closed when they wereeleven and her family had to move away because her father had found a jobacross the country.

“Okay, well, um, thanks. For the warning aboutthe test. Again,” he says and wipes his palm on his shirt for something to dowith his hand, which she still hasn’t touched.

He turns back around, a little humiliated andcloses his laptop before sliding it into his bag. Ten years later and he stillcan’t even manage a passable conversation with Katniss Everdeen. Pathetic. Sohe’s more than a little surprised when he stands with his things and she’sstill there, watching him.

“You used to bring in cupcakes for the wholeclass around the first day of spring every year,” she says, startling him thatshe’d remember that.

“Yeah. I did. March 20th. It’s um, my birthday,”he says and shrugs, because that also happens to be today. It’s always kind ofsucked anyways so he figures what harm can come of him telling his childhoodcrush what today is.

“Then Happy Birthday, Peeta,” she says with asmall smile that sends his pulse skittering for a second. “Any big plans forthe night?”

Wait. What? Isshe flirting with him?

He’s not sure what to make of this unexpecteddevelopment and takes a second to find his bearings in this unknown territory.“Nothing special. My brothers are taking me out for my first legal drink,because what the world really needs is one more obnoxiously drunk guy in abar.”

She laughs. She actually laughs at somethinghe’s said, the sound musical and beautiful. He’s heady with it and that surelyis the reason he keeps speaking like the idiot he is.

“You wouldn’t want to come celebrate with us,would you? You could bring a few friends with you, if you like.”

Katniss examines him for a moment, chewing onthe corner of her bottom lip in the most adorable way.

“I don’t know. Maybe. I’ll have to see what myroommate has planned for the night,” she says, but she asks for the name of thebar just in case.

Despite his brothers’ encouragement later thatnight, he manages to nurse his drinks and keep his head. Should Katniss showup, he doesn’t want to be wasted. As the night wears on with no sign of her,though, Peeta mentally berates himself for getting his hopes up. Eventually, hisbrothers drink themselves deep enough that Peeta knows he needs to get themhome before they do something dumb, like get themselves arrested.

He approaches the door, with both brothershanging off his shoulders, and of course, that’s when she walks in with a groupof friends. For a moment, he watches her twirl the end of her braid around onefinger and scan the crowds. When she sees him, she drops her braid to wave, andhe shrugs, giving his brothers annoyed looks. She seems to understand, becauseher friends say something to her and instead of stopping to talk with him, sheheads straight for the bar with one last shy wave of her hand.

So much for that.

But on Friday, when they’re packing up aftertheir economics test, and he’s more confident than usual about how he did, sheleans over his shoulder to whisper a reminder in his ear that he owes her acabin by the lake. He smiles, still facing forward so she can’t see his goofyexpression, and makes sure to have the video queued up at the start of Monday’sclass.

************************

TWENTY-FIVE

It isn’t until his third period class is filingout the door on their way to their next class that he manages to fire off atext message to Katniss. Part of that is because he’s been debating about howto handle the accidental kiss. Eventually, he settles for acting like it didn’thappen, just to test the waters, see how she’s feeling, before he brings it up.

P: Thanks for the breakfast this morning. It wasdelicious.

K: Anytime. I figured you’d be running lateafter I kept you up last night with my venting.

P: Did talking it out help you sleep better atleast?

He feels a little guilty for waiting until nowto ask her how she slept last night after they spent hours on the phonediscussing a research grant she applied for and was having second thoughtsabout taking, since she’d be working for a colleague she’s butted heads withalready. It’d be good for her career, but Katniss is worried that the stresswon’t be worth the rewards. Here he’s been tied in knots over an accidentalkiss that he’s probably overanalyzing while she’s dealing with life alteringdecisions.

K: Sort of.

Peeta’s brow wrinkles at that. Usually she tellshim that his empathy when she unloads her problems on him and his calm voice asthey talk her through to a solution are exactly what she needed to help herrelax and lull her into peaceful slumber. He worries that maybe he wasn’t thefriend she needed last night, although he’s got no idea what he could’ve saidor done wrong. Since their friendship is the most important thing in the worldto him, he needs to be sure he didn’t give her a half-assed effort or saysomething bone-headed last night.

P: Am I losing my touch? ;-)

The first few students of his fourth periodclass wander into the room and he tucks his phone back into his pocket, even asit buzzes with a new message, to focus on greeting them. Katniss knows hisschedule; she’ll understand if he doesn’t respond for the next fifty minutes orso.

Pushing his rolled up sleeves a little furtherup his arms, he smiles at his class and gets back to work, shoving thoughts ofKatniss and worries about that not-a-real-kiss to the back of his mind. Itworks until his lunch break, when he takes a look at the text message she sentback to him.

K: Actually, it’s the opposite

What the hell does that mean?! He’s on the vergeof being a wreck for the rest of the day, and it’s a good thing he’s busybecause otherwise he’d fire something back, demanding an explanation. At theend of the day, he settles on something simple, deciding that this is aconversation to be had in person rather than over text where inflection andnonverbal cues can be lost or misinterpreted.

P: Are we still on for tonight?

K: See you at six

Relief and dread mingle in his middle as heleaves the school and heads for the grocery store with his short list. Reliefthat the last text from her sounded more like she’s acting like herself again,dread that they still haven’t even mentioned what happened this morning.

************************

TWENTY-TWO

Someone is pounding on his door, and all hereally wants to do is tell them to fuck off, but immediate guilt at theunkind thought sweeps through him and he opens the door.

“You’re taking me out for milkshakes, birthdayboy,” Katniss says, charging him and shoving him back in the apartment andtowards his room.

“Katniss, I–”

“No excuses. It’s your birthday, and while yourmother might be a complete bitch and an incompetent parent, I forbid you tomope.”

“It’s raining,” he says, tugging nervously onhis ratty t-shirt. She crosses her arms and scowls at him. With a sigh, heducks inside his bedroom and changes into jeans and a nice shirt. One with acollar and no holes in it, shoves his arms into the sleeves of his jacket andlifts one eyebrow at her, requesting her approval.

“Better,” she says with a perfunctory nod andopens the door before marching out like she’s royalty.

By the time they reach the new dessert parlor,Midnight Milkshakes, they’re both drenched and decide they want hot chocolateinstead. She gets marshmallows on hers while he asks for whipped cream andcinnamon. When they take their seats, she surprises him by sitting next to himin the booth instead of across from him.

He laughs lightly when she snuggles into hisside and drapes his arm around her, nearly making him spill his drink. She mustbe cold, but he’s not about to make her stop what she’s doing and rubs his handup and down her arm to work some warmth back into her.

“See?” she asks as he takes his first sip ofcocoa. “This is much better than a cruise in the Caribbean, right?”

There’s still a tiny part of him that’s angrywith his mother for taking a cruise over his birthday with her new husband, andhurt over his mother’s roll of the eyes and exasperated sigh when he brought itup. ‘You’re twenty-two, Peeta. You don’t need birthday parties anymore.’No, he doesn’t, but those cruises leave every few weeks. She could’ve picked adifferent date. Plus, he’d still like it if someone at least tried tomake the day special for him. Like Katniss is doing right now.

Sometimes, he still can’t believe the stroke ofluck that placed them at the same university, in the same economics class. Orthat led her to sit behind him the first day of class and find herself absorbedin his digital paintings. She’s his best friend and the one person he canalways count on, so he ignores the flip that his stomach does when she smilesup at him, moaning in delight at her cocoa. Again when they’re curled up on hiscouch beneath a blanket, Katniss in a pair of his borrowed sweats because theirclothes got further drenched in the rain on their way back here. And again whenshe yawns and rubs her cheek against his shirt.

“Keep talking, Peeta,” she urges him, her voicedrowsy with pending sleep. “Your voice is soothing.”

He’s not sure what he talks about, but when sheslips into slumber with a faint smile on her face, he wraps his arms around herand smiles himself, content with the way his birthday turned out. When he wakeswith Katniss still curled in his embrace, he sighs and decides the aches in hisneck and lower back from sleeping propped up on the couch like this are totallyworth it.

************************

TWENTY-FIVE

“So here’s the plan–”

“No,” Peeta cuts Graham off before his brothercan even get started. “Whatever crazy idea you’ve got in your head, expunge itright now.”

“Oh he’s using the AP English words. That’s howyou know you’re losing this fight, right, Graham?” Ryen laughs as he loosens histie and takes the milk from Peeta to put in the fridge and grabs three beers,passing one to each of his brothers.

“You got a better plan?” Graham asks as hetwists the cap off his beer and chucks it across the room into the trash can.

“Yeah,” Peeta says after taking a sip of his ownbeer. “You two get lost so I can actually have a pleasant birthday spent withmy best friend.”

“Oh christ,” Graham mutters and Ryen shakes hishead.

“What?” Peeta asks indignantly.

“You’re spending your twenty-fifth birthday withher?” Graham asks, sounding highly offended.

“Of course I am!”

“That’s a terrible decision,” Graham mutters andPeeta’s the one offended now.

“He’s right, Peeta,” Ryen says and they bothstare at him. “Well he is!”

“Thank you,” Graham says smugly.

“Don’t think so highly of yourself. I’m sayingthis for Peeta, not because I think your broke and almost divorced ass shouldever be listened to. Peeta, listen to me. Go fuck someone. Seriously. Maybethen you’ll get over this unrequited love you’ve been harboring for Katniss foryears.”

“Excuse me for wanting to spend my birthday withsomeone I actually like being around rather than some horny stranger you twodig up out of a misguided sense of taking care of me,” Peeta says and moves tofinish putting the groceries away. “And since it is my birthday, I suggest youtwo finish your drinks and get lost. She’ll be here any minute now.”

“Fine, fine, but only because it’s yourbirthday,” Ryen concedes, dragging a protesting Graham towards the living room.“Come on, ya bum, let’s go see if you’ve actually got decent bar hoppingclothes before we raid my closet.”

“Just pick up the living room before you go,will ya?” Peeta shouts after them.

“Just kiss her already, will ya?” Ryen returnsand Peeta’s cheeks burn with the humiliating reminder that he kind of alreadydid. And it was nothing like the first kiss he’s imagined a hundred thousandtimes.

Thankfully, though, his brother’s are busygetting ready to go by the time Katniss shows up with a bag of groceries in herhands and unable to humiliate him in front of her.

************************

TWENTY-THREE

He opens Skype ten minutes early, plugs in hislaptop and sets it to never sleep when plugged in. Just to be sure. Then hewalks away from his computer, certain that he won’t be hearing from her, eventhough she was very specific in her instructions. She’s got precious littleinternet time where she is, and he doesn’t want to miss it, but he’s trying notto get his hopes up. So far, he’s gotten Happy Birthday greetings and giftsfrom his brothers, but otherwise, twenty-three is indistinguishable fromtwenty-two. Peeta’s in the midst of preparing himself mentally to be let down whenhis laptop starts beeping and blooping with an incoming call.

The chair nearly slides out from under him inhis haste to sit down. He runs his hands through his hair and smiles beforepressing the green circle to answer. Immediate joy rushes through him when shesmiles at him.

“Happy Birthday, Peeta,” she says and his heartdoes somersaults, just so happy to hear her voice for the first time in months.

“Hey, beautiful,” he breathes out and sheblushes a little. He kicks himself for his blunder but keeps going in the hopesthat she won’t drag him on his birthday for it. “How’s the research going?”

She’s spent the past six months on a researchtrip for her masters degree in anthropology, somewhere in the AustralianOutback. Her passion is bringing to light the stories of people forgotten orerased from history around the world. While he couldn’t be more proud of herpursuit of her dreams or her success at securing the coveted grant that tookher to another country, he still misses her terribly.

“Great,” she says, and he takes the opening toask her a thousand questions he’s been saving for when they get to talk face toface. They’ve been restricted to e-mail and one very static filled call on asatellite phone due to the time difference and her rare access to the internetor postal services. After several minutes of conversation, she glances down ather wrist and shakes her head. “I’m almost out of time and we’ve barely talkedabout you!”

“Trust me, anything I have to say right now isfar less interesting. Grading papers, writing lesson plans, rereading ToKill a Mockingbird for the twelfth time.”

“You love that book,” she says with a lift ofher eyebrow.

“Maybe,” he shrugs.

“I got you something. I’m sorry I couldn’t getit there on time, but I want to carry it back myself. Not sure I trust ourpostal runners here with it.” She lifts a flat stone covered in colored dots –yellows, browns, reds, white, and even some greens – that form a sun shiningin a vibrant sky.

“Is that…?”

“It is. Ochre artwork,” she confirms.

“It’s beautiful, Katniss. I love it.”

“I thought you might,” she says as she sets itdown beside her and then gives him a grin. “But wait! There’s more!”

He laughs at her gameshow host imitation andnearly cries when she shows him the cover of a book, all about art techniquesof the aboriginal peoples of Australia. He has to scratch at the corner of hiseye to keep from crying. She’s over ten thousand miles away and still managedto find the perfect gift for him. Something that’s both her and him.

“I’m sorry it’s going to be late,” she murmurs,her face losing some of it’s happiness, probably because he’s a nitwit andnearly crying at her gift.

“No, don’t be. It’s perfect and I can’t wait tosee it in person because then you’ll be home, too,” he says, his voice soundinga little hoarse even to him. They manage a few more minutes before she has togo, but before she does, Katniss sings Happy Birthday to him, her voicesultry and soothing and perfect all at once. Perfectly wonderful and perfectlytormenting him.

When they hang up, he slowly shuts his laptopand then heads to bed early, needing to end his birthday on the best possiblenote.

************************

TWENTY-FIVE

“You sure you don’t want to join us,” Grahamasks as he and Ryen stand in the doorway that leads to the garage. “BringKatniss with you. She could be your wingman.”

Peeta grips tight to the edges of his temper.They probably don’t notice the way Katniss pinches her lips together in a scowland turns away to vigorously chop the vegetables for their dinner. It’s a suresign that she’s upset, and given what happened on his birthday last year, hewants this line of conversation to end quickly.

“There’s only so much that flying solo can accomplish,”Ryen joins in with a rude hand gesture and Peeta chucks the kitchen towel atthem to get them to leave. The rosy flush on the back of Katniss’ neck tellshim that she saw the gesture out of the corner of her eye, so now not only isshe upset over something, she’s also embarrassed. She never did like talkingabout physical intimacy.

“What’s that all about?” Katniss asks tightlyafter they’ve finally gone.

“Nothing important,” Peeta says and standsbeside her to help. She bumps her hip into his to try and move him away fromher, but he persists, snatching the vegetables and taking over the task ofchopping as she moves to slide the meat into the oven. “Graham’s decided thatsince he’s going to be a bachelor again, he’s dragging the rest of us intodebauchery right along with him.”

“They wanted to find you a one night stand foryour birthday?”

“Yeah,” he says and turns to ask a questionabout the food. He knows she’s curious but won’t like following that line ofquestioning. Talking about food distracts her, though. Within minutes, he’s gother smiling and laughing again, the discomfort of his brothers’ plans andcomments momentarily forgotten.

Once their dinner is ready, they take theirseats on the couch and Peeta scrolls through options until Katniss settles oncatching up on Outlander. For him, she insists. She’ll never admit thatthe love story intrigues her, especially the aspect of Claire’s torn loyaltiesbetween her husband and the man she’s clearly falling in love with.

************************

TWENTY-FOUR

“What the hell, Peeta?” she yells at him and hetries to shut his mouth, but can’t get over the shock at her unexpected fury.“You have a date tonight?!”

Her eyes ignite and he holds up his hands,unsure where exactly he went wrong. She’s been seeing some guy she works withat the university for the past four months and he didn’t think she’d care.They’ve gotten serious and it’s been slowly killing him to listen to her talk,to sound so happy in the arms of someone else. Hoping it would help him move onor forget, he asked Jackie, the red-haired girl at his book club, if she’d goon a date with him and didn’t tell her that the date was on his birthdaybecause he wants to forget and didn’t want to put that kind of pressure orexpectation or weirdness on a first date.

It’s his birthday, after all. Shouldn’the get to do what he wants?

Katniss sputters angrily when he vocalizes thatlast thought to her and throws something in his arms before she storms out ofthe house. He thinks about chasing after her, but he’s angry, too. Angry thatshe didn’t bother to make plans with him or mention anything about his birthdayuntil right this second. And yes, he’s to blame too, for neither asking herabout it nor bringing it up. But she’s been the one person the past four yearsto actually make his birthday special, and he had himself convinced that nowthat she’s got a boyfriend, she wouldn’t want to make a big deal out of Peeta’sbirthday anymore. Or maybe that she’d even forgotten. Her silence on the matterin the past few days only helped confirm that in his mind. He never dreamedshe’d be this upset over him having a date.

Fueled by anger and hurt, he leaves his place tomeet up with Jackie, but he’s distracted through dinner and lags in theconversation. Besides, his heart isn’t in it. He gave his heart to his bestfriend a long time ago, and is just pathetic enough to have never taken it back.

At the end of the date, he heads home andchanges into something to sleep in, although he’s probably not sleepingtonight. Not with thoughts of Katniss wreaking havoc on his mind. Finally, hesits on his bed with the thing she threw at him and carefully peels away thepaper, staring down at the butter soft cover before flipping it open andsighing. She put together a scrapbook of sorts. Pictures of them through theyears, a few of his sketches that disappeared and he’d wondered where they’dgone off to, ticket stubs that she’s saved, a few napkins with his doodles ortheir games of tic-tac-toe on them, pressed flowers from their hikes and otherassorted outdoor adventures. It’s perfect, beautiful.

With another deep sigh, he picks up his phoneand calls her, expecting her to ignore him, surprised when she answers with awavering voice.

“Hello?”

“Katniss, I’m sorry,” he says immediately. Shesniffles a little.

“I’m sorry, too, Peeta. You were right. It’syour birthday and you should get to do what you want. I just thought, well, Iguess I thought you’d want to do something with me.”

“I did. I do, Katniss. But you didn’t mention itonce. I assumed you had plans with Darius or something.”

“No. I should’ve said something to you soonerit’s just he… Well never mind what he said.”

“Okay, what did he say? You can’t drop a bomblike that and not tell me whether or not I need to go kick his ass for you,”Peeta says and Katniss laughs, because they both know that Peeta’s methods ofrevenge are far less direct but far more effective than a fist to the face, nomatter how much he’s wanted to punch any number of her sleazy ex-boyfriends inthe past.

“It doesn’t matter,” she says. “We broke up thismorning anyways.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“Because it’s your birthday, Peeta, and I didn’twant to ruin it for you with my drama,” she says and he shakes his head,stunned that she hasn’t figured out yet that he would drop everything for her.In a heartbeat.

“I’ll be there in two minutes. Do you have stufffor hot chocolate?”

“Maybe? I don’t know?”

“Make it ten minutes then,” he says.

“Thank you, Peeta,” she whispers.

Fifteen minutes later, they’re curled up on hercouch, sipping hot chocolate and watching some dumb comedy that was queued upin her roommate’s Netflix. Katniss rests her head on his shoulder and he wrapshis arm around her, allowing her to get closer to him. He savors the momentswhen she laughs and he can both feel it and hear it, lets his hand skim up anddown her arm. Eventually, she starts to nod off and he carefully extricates hermostly empty mug from her grip before setting it on the end table.

“Stay with me tonight, Peeta,” she murmurs as hecarries her to her bedroom. She nuzzles her way further into his embrace. It’snot an unusual request of hers. They’ve shared a bed before. And even thoughthey didn’t do anything big to celebrate his birthday this year, there’snowhere else he’d rather spend it than right here with her.

“Always,” he whispers when they’re settledbeneath her covers and her body relaxes beside him as she slips away intoslumber.

************************

TWENTY-FIVE

“So maybe we should do the cake now,” Katnisssuggests as Peeta hands her a few more plain candles. “Why do you have so manyof these?”

“Leftovers from Ryen’s last seriousrelationship. Something about seduction by candlelight on Valentine’s Day.” Helaughs when Katniss drops them on the counter like they’re hot coals. Shegathers them back up as he shuts the cabinet and climbs down from the stepstool, pointing the way with the flashlight as they work their way around theliving room, setting up the candles and lighting them.

A chill works its way down Peeta’s spine as thethunder rolls and rumbles outside. The rain lashes the windows in a crescendoas the wind picks up, then gradually softens. A freak storm rolled throughbefore they were even twenty minutes into the episode they were watching andknocked out the power. He’s already checked on his brothers, who made it safelyto some hip bar Graham wanted to check out before the storm hit.

Once they’ve got enough light in the room, Peetaflops back down on the couch and Katniss resumes her spot from earlier, tuckedinto his side with one hand resting on his thigh. He shifts nervously,listening to the storm and wondering what they should talk about. This usuallyisn’t a problem for them, so he starts by asking about her day at work.

The candles cast a soft glow over the room asthey talk in soft tones, which would usually help him relax and make himdrowsy, but Katniss’ hand keeps drifting up and down his thigh. And it’s havinga disastrous effect on him. His jeans grow tighter by the second. For now,she’s oblivious, but he doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable with how turnedon he’s getting by a little innocent cuddling and conversation.

When her hand travels a touch higher than herprevious passes over his leg, he shifts to keep her hand away from his groin.Katniss turns her head to look up at him. “Are you alright, Peeta?”

“Yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

She shrugs slightly and chews on her lip. Peetasighs, sensing that they’ve finally gotten to the point where they’ll need totalk about that awkward kiss.

“Katniss, about this morning,” he says,reminding himself of how irreplaceable her friendship is in his life. “It wasan accident. I didn’t know you were…anyways, I don’t want things to getawkward between us because I moved my face at the wrong time.”

“It’s fine, Peeta,” she says, sounding irritatedand looking away from him. He can’t even manage an apology for kissing herwithout offending her, how can he possibly expect to actually kiss her? And headmits that he’s been thinking about it. More than usual, at least.

“I’m just sorry you got stuck here with meinstead of having a passionate fling,” she mutters. “Not the best birthdayever, is it?”

He stares down at her, thinking she’s lost hermind. Katniss squirms a little under his scrutiny until he speaks. “Believe me,there’s no competition. There’s nowhere else and no one else I’d rather be withright now.”

He hopes his voice isn’t as husky and adoring asit sounds in his mind. She blinks slowly and for a second, he thinks she dropsher gaze to his mouth, but this is Katniss. His best friend. His best friendwho was annoyed ten seconds ago when he brought up their sort-of a kiss. Thenshe slowly licks her lips and he follows the path of her tongue as it retreatsback into her mouth before her teeth tug on the glistening surface he wants sobadly to taste.

“Who says you can’t have both?” she whispers.

His brain comes to a screeching halt, completewith clanging metal and shattering glass. Because if he didn’t know any better,he’d think that his best friend whom he’s been in love with for at least twoyears, probably longer, just suggested that they have sex. Tonight. On hisbirthday.

He searches her eyes for some sign that he heardher right. Her gray eyes remain focused on him, wide and uncertain. Her chestrises with quick breaths that puff through her parted lips. She leans towardshim and every few seconds, her body trembles.

“Peeta…if it hadn’t been an accident…wouldyou have…wanted to kiss me?”

He’s expecting a strategically placed clap ofthunder to announce his impending doom, because he has no idea how or why thisconversation has taken this turn. Slowly, so he doesn’t frighten her or disturbthe threads holding them together, he nods.

“Show me,” she whispers, and that’s when hestops thinking and acts on whatever the hell mood just struck the two of them,lifting his hand to cup her cheek. She smiles tremulously and leans into hispalm. He nearly shouts with joy and caresses his thumb over her lower lip,watches the plump flesh respond to his touch. Her eyes flutter shut and heswears he hears her sigh.

He lowers his head to hers, still expecting tobe rudely awakened and realize that he fell asleep on the couch and the pastfew minutes have been nothing more than another dream. More wishful thinking.Or for her to shove him away and yell at him that he completely misreadeverything.

But then she makes a noise of frustration, grabsa fistful of his shirt in her hand and tugs on it. His body and his mindfinally come to a consensus and he caresses his lips over hers. Once to hearthe sharp inhale of expectation. Another for the soft whine that tells him shereally does want him to kiss her. Then he tilts his head the smallest amount sohe doesn’t crush her nose when his lips join with hers and he wraps his armtighter around her, turns so that her chest smashes into his.

She doesn’t run or push him away. Doesn’t remindhim that they’re friends. Instead, Katniss winds her fingers through his hair,meeting each movement of his lips with one of her own. For a moment, he thinksto pinch himself, to make sure that this is real, but that would require him toremove a hand from her, something he’s not willing to do. His head spins withquestions and desires.

Eventually, Katniss moves to lay back on thecouch, dragging him down with her. They shift limbs and hands awkwardly, stillfused at the mouth. He tries to focus on one sense at a time, to memorize hertaste, the feel of her lips on his, the sounds she makes in the back of herthroat, the scent of her soap a familiar tether to reality as they kiss. Andkiss.

Without much space, his knee slips off the couchand he has to brace his foot on the floor, even as she lifts her legs to wraparound his waist, firmly pulling him down on top of her, fingers skimming overhis neck, scraping his scalp. She moans and opens her mouth beneath his, lettinghim feel the sound as it ripples across his tongue. He returns it as theircores align, the grip her legs have on him pulling him flush against her. Hecan’t help the quick thrust into her, can’t help but revel at the heat thatsurrounds them and the friction between them, can’t help the quick leap tothinking about what this would feel like if they were both naked.

She gasps and backs away from the kiss. Peetamentally berates himself.

Too fast. Much too fast.

“Sorry,” he mutters, trying to leave herembrace, but she clings to him.

“For what?” she breathes and he stares at her,lips swollen, eyes glassy, cheeks flushed. A thrill of arrogance runs throughhim, clouding his better intentions to slow things down. He did that. He madeKatniss look like this, ripe for loving.

“For…rushing things?” he asks uncertainly.

“I don’t feel rushed,” she admits, her fingerstoying with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“You don’t,” he whispers and she shakes herhead.

“Unless…unless you don’t want–”

“No,” he says in a rush. Her brows snap togetherin a scowl and he hurries to fix the damage his haste has created. “I want to.You have no idea how much or how long I’ve wanted this, Katniss. But that’sjust it. I don’t want to scare you.”

“Why do you think I’d be scared?” she asks,still scowling. He hears his brothers’ taunts in his head, calling him ‘oldman.’ He’s not old, not even close, but an image of him and Katniss in rockingchairs, gray and wrinkled with five feet of space and no words of love betweenthem hits him just then. Screw it. He’ll find a way to repair friendship laterif he’s wrong. He can’t take the chance that he might miss out on this becausehe’s afraid.

“Because I’m helplessly in love with you, Katniss.I have been for years,” he murmurs. She smiles. Astonishing and radiant. Hisheart thunders to life at the sight of that expression. Her hand slowly bringshis lips back down to hers.

“Then stop trying to run off when I’m trying tokiss you,” she says and he laughs lightly for a second before kissing heragain.

This time, he doesn’t hold back, taking the timeto kiss her deeply. To let his hand wander up and down her side, to slipbeneath her sweater and skim the smooth skin of her belly, up to her ribs anddown, ever so slowly working his way higher.

Shock jolts through him when his fingers brushthe underside of her breast and find no bra barring the way. Lust followsswiftly behind as he cups the perky mound in his hand and she arches into him,moaning desperately. Loud enough to muffle the thunder overhead. Her legs clamparound him and after that, he loses track of who touches where and when. He’slost in the need to feel every inch of her because it is better for him totouch and discover than lose his sanity in thoughts of wasted time.

He kisses her cheeks and eyelids, nibbles on herears and neck, moves his hips to the rhythm of her gasping moans and quietpleas of nothing but ‘yes’ and ‘Peeta.’ Her hands move to his jeans to unfastenhis belt and slip the button through its loop. The release of pressure when shelowers his zipper snaps him back to some semblance of thinking and he pullsback to halt her hands.

“Don’t you want…?”

“More than anything,” he whispers, kissing herlips swiftly before turning them on the couch so she’s reclining against theback and he’s kneeling before her on the floor. Because he’s still not surewhere this is going or how much she’ll allow him, and he refuses to waste his chanceto do the one thing that has driven his fantasies of her for years.

He frantically undoes her jeans, ignoring theclank of his own belt as it flaps freely. Gripping her jeans, he tugs them downher legs, urging her to lift her hips to help. When they’re off and discardedto the side, he glances back up at her, notes that her smile still flirts withher lips. As he reaches for her panties, though, he freezes with his hands inmidair at the image of her like this. Katniss shifts her legs impatiently. Orperhaps nervously.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, fingers tracing overthe sunset hued flowers on her panties. His favorite colors. He wonders if shewore these on purpose today or if it’s coincidence. When he looks up at herface, she’s holding her fists near her mouth, chewing lightly on her thumbnails. He wracks his brains for a way to get her to laugh, to relax again.

“For me?” he asks with a cheeky grin. “Youshouldn’t have.”

Then she laughs, a little breathless but it’sstill one of hers, and helps him slide the panties down her legs. He lifts oneleg by her ankle and drops soft kisses to the delicate skin. Up one centimeterat a time, stealing brief glances at her face to make sure she’s still withhim. When he reaches her knee, he drapes her leg over his shoulder and keepsgoing. Kisses. Soft bites. Slow licks. The higher he travels, the faster andlouder she breathes until he reaches his goal and she releases a singing sighof relief. Her hips undulate beneath his mouth, her hands curving over the backof the couch to anchor herself.

He’s drunk on her taste in seconds, lost in thehooded gaze she bestows on him when he looks up at her. With a teasing dip ofhis tongue, he moves to the side and down her other leg. Katniss whimpers androlls her hips towards him again and he holds back his chuckle, still stunnedthat she seems to want this as badly as him.

“I love the way you taste,” he whispers as henuzzles her thigh and kisses down to her knee before returning where she wantshim. “I love everything about you.”

When he makes it back, she lets loose a moanthat sounds more like a song to him. He makes it his life goal to get her tomake that noise endlessly until she comes on his tongue. One hand grips hishair, and she begs him not to stop as her nails scorch his scalp. He risks aglance up at her face, twisted in effort. Peeta shifts enough to slide firstone then a second finger between her lips, nearly coming right then at theincredible warmth that greets him, the gentle tug of her walls that tells himshe’s close.

Her body bows on the couch as she wails hisname. Then she snaps back and curls in on him, legs clamping down and holdinghim in place as she pulses against his fingers and tongue. It’s everything he’sdreamt of and more.

Katniss flops back on the couch when she’s done,panting and flushed with her release. Slowly, he pulls his fingers from her andplants one last kiss on her before sitting back as her legs fall away from him.Her eyes flutter open in time for her to watch him lick his fingers clean ofher. She shudders and then covers her mouth, but not before a giggle escapesher. And then another from behind her hands.

“What’re you thinking?” he asks, scared of theanswer.

“We should’ve done this sooner, birthday boy,”she says and his cock jumps at her sultry tone. Her eyes widen and she sits upon the couch. “You weren’t supposed to do that!”

“Do what?” Peeta’s heart sinks at her words, andhe stands up to put some distance between them. But her hands grasp at his jeansand pull him towards her instead.

“It’s your birthday, not mine,” she says,confusing him because she sounds annoyed with him, but at the same time, she’syanking his clothes down.

“I wanted to,” he insists. And then her lipswrap around him and his assertion that he’s wanted to eat her out like that foryears gets lost in his strangled curse.

He tangles his fingers in her hair and tries toslow her down, but time and months of celibacy and the taste of her still onhis tongue and years of fantasies work against him. It only takes a few hardsucks of her mouth before the sensation becomes too much. He manages to pullher off of him and cup his hand over himself just in time.

As soon as the euphoria passes, the shame takesits place. He grabs his clothes and tugs them up just enough, turns away fromher in embarrassment, mumbling an apology before retreating into his bathroomto clean himself up, taking one of the candles with him. He’s a little moreharsh with his body than he needs to be, humiliated that he blew his load likea fucking teenager the second she touched him.

“Peeta,” she calls to him through the door andknocks softly before opening it. He curses himself for not locking it andfocuses on tucking himself back in his shorts and washing his hands and face sohe doesn’t have to see her disappointment with him in her eyes.

Her hands slide beneath his shirt, startling himas she embraces him from behind. “Are you mad at me?”

“No,” he says, stunned by her question. He meetsher eyes in the mirror, peeking over his shoulder. “I’m mad at myself.”

“You shouldn’t be,” she whispers. “I likedmaking you lose control that fast. And I especially liked what you did to mebefore that.”

They stare at one another for a minute, andPeeta wonders how they proceed from here. The awful thought occurs to him thatshe meant this as a one night thing. After all, that’s what his brothers hadintended, and all of this started with her saying he could have both. Both hotsex with a one night stand and a night spent with his best friend.

But now that he knows what she tastes like, whathis name sounds like flying off her tongue when she’s in the middle of coming,he’s not willing to let that go.

“Katniss, I’m still helplessly in love with you.I want to spend every possible minute of the rest of my life with you.”

“Well then come to bed, Peeta,” she whispers.She doesn’t let go of him as he lets his jeans fall to the floor and kicks theminto the corner. Even as he brushes his teeth, she keeps one hand on him whilebrushing her own with the toothbrush she keeps in his bathroom. She doesn’t letgo of him as they clean up their dinner mess, extinguish the candles, andeventually, she leads him to his own bed, crawling beneath the covers first andlooking back at him expectantly.

“We should maybe take things slow, yeah? So noone gets hurt,” he says quietly. She lifts one shoulder but doesn’t look awayfrom him.

“Okay. But we’ve shared a bed before, Peeta,”she reminds him. He laughs, although it sounds nervous or maybe hysterical tohis own ears. He runs a hand through his hair and then climbs into his bed.

As he settles beside her, she wriggles into hisarms and then cups his face in her hands before kissing him. The kiss soothesmany of his fears, but he knows they’ll still need to talk a little in themorning.

************************

TWENTY-FOUR

Bright May sunshine warms the earth, greetingthe newly bloomed flowers in the yard. Guests mingle and Peeta adds hiscarefully chosen present to the small stack before making his way over towardsthe grill where Katniss is engaged in a heated discussion with a tall,dark-haired guy he doesn’t recognize.

She looks up and smiles at Peeta, sending hisheart tripping over itself before she meets him halfway and throws her armsaround his neck.

“Happy Birthday, Katniss,” Peeta murmurs intoher neck.

“Cut the crap. What’d you bring me?” she asksand he laughs, but points out his gift on the picnic table. She hurries overand tears into it.

“Aren’t you supposed to wait until after we singto you?” he teases.

Katniss scowls at him, but the glint of mischiefin her eyes tells him that she’s not truly angry with him. She flips open thesmall box and he holds his breath, waiting for her reaction. Her hand tremblesas she runs a finger over the delicate silver locket with the bird engraved onit. Carefully pulling the necklace from its cushion, she holds it in her palmand opens it, gasping slightly when she sees the pictures.

Lately, she’s been missing her family more. Herparents and her sister. Peeta managed to get his hands on pictures of them, allsmiling and happiness, and tucked them into the locket to remind Katniss thatshe’s never alone. To remind her of the people who love her when she’s off onresearch trips or responsibility and distance conspire to keep her from herloved ones a little longer than she’d like.

“For when you miss them,” he says quietly,hoping he hasn’t stepped over the line. But she looks up at him with glisteningeyes and hands it to him before turning her back to him and lifting her hair.

“Help me put it on?” she asks.

“Of course,” he says and gently lays it acrossher throat. Once the necklace is clasped, he squeezes her shoulder and she letsher hair fall back into place.

“I love it, Peeta,” she says, turning to facehim again. She rests her hands on his shoulders and rises on her toes, pressinga kiss to his cheek. “It’s perfect.”

“Good, because I’m pretty sure they don’t takereturns,” he says to cover they way he’s flushing and trembling at the firstever brush of her lips on his skin. She laughs, but then Johanna shouts for herand Katniss leaves him with a sigh.

He wishes he could have more of her time, butthe gathered crowd demands much of her attention. When he does get a momentwith her, he points out that she’s clearly got droves of adoring friends. Shecomes back claiming they’re all there for the free food, a typical Katnissresponse that makes him laugh.

Halfway through the meal, he’s sent to thekitchen to grab another container of potato salad from the fridge. On the wayback, he’s stopped dead in his tracks before he rounds the corner of the houseby the conversation he hears.

“You’re not even the least bit upset that hecame here with Madge and they’re now sucking face?” Johanna asks, and Peetaknows she’s talking about Darius, Katniss’ ex-boyfriend, who showed up to theparty as Madge’s guest. Which means Johanna is talking to Katniss. He shouldannounce his presence rather than eavesdrop.

“God no. He can suck face with whomever hewants,” Katniss responds without a trace of anger, malice, hurt, or evenjealousy in her voice.

“I knew it. You’re in love with him,” Johannacrows.

“I am not,” Katniss insists.

“Not Darius, Brainless. The one that caused yourbreakup with Darius,” Johanna drops her voice and Peeta’s ears perk up asKatniss speaks again.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she insists, butthere’s a hitch in her voice that tells Peeta she’s lying. His heart plummetsto his toes and he braces a hand on the side of the house. Katniss is in lovewith someone. It was only a matter of time, but he thought he had more of it.

Ever since she’d broken up with Darius, Peetahas been working up the courage to finally tell her how he feels about her. Itwouldn’t be easy or simple, he reminded himself. Their friendship means theworld to him, and to her too, he hopes. Risking it on a romantic relationshipmight kill it or hurt them both. So he planned on being delicate about bringingit up, emphasizing that he’d do everything in his power to keep theirfriendship alive, to include burying his feelings as deep as necessary if theyturned out to be as one sided as he suspects. But now it sounds like it doesn’tmatter anyways. He waited too long.

“Oh come on. We both know Darius dumped youbecause he knew it, too. It’s all over your face every time you’re around him.You need to get on that before someone else does,” Jo keeps going despiteKatniss’ protests. “I’m just saying, there’s any number of ladies who wannaclimb him like a tree. Plus, he’s head over heels for you.”

He’s heard enough and back tracks to open theside door to the house before slamming it shut to give them a warning andwalking back around the house with a smile on his face. He manages to smile atthem both as he walks by on his way to take the salad to the buffet table.

Five minutes later as Katniss fills her platewith seconds, the tall and dark-haired guy from earlier rubs elbows with herand talks to her quietly.

“Oh, Peeta, this is Gale,” she introduces them,a pretty flush on her face. “Gale and I went to the same high school together.”

“Yeah?” Peeta asks as he shakes Gale’s hand.

“Ran into one another back in February, was it?”Gale says, glancing at Katniss for confirmation. Peeta misses whatever shesays, his mind caught on the timing, so close the day she and Darius broke up.And this is the first he’s heard mention of Gale at all. Which means they’vebeen seeing each other and Katniss hadn’t seen fit to tell Peeta, her bestfriend, about it. He swallows the lump of hurt this revelation causes.

They talk for a minute, but when Katnissfinishes her food and tosses her plate in the trash, any miniscule hope Peetahad left is smashed to pieces. Gale leans down towards Katniss and murmurssomething that makes her laugh, her head thrown back and a satisfied smile onGale’s face as he leads her off to the side, away from Peeta.

He’s not blind. He can tell Gale’s handsome.Tall, dark, taciturn, and brooding. Mysterious. Traditionally masculine basedon his conversation about archery and backpacking through Peru, fishing andhunting. The classic literary hero. And Katniss seems so at ease around him,that Peeta now knows Gale must be the one Johanna was referring to.

He reminds himself that his feelings are hisproblem to get over, and for the next few months, focuses on being just herfriend. Like always. It’d hurt far more to have her cut him out of her lifecompletely should her relationship with Gale escalate, so Peeta concentrates onbeing the best friend possible, making sure she knows he’ll always be there forher, no matter what. All the while, he braces himself for the blow to hisheart. But it never arrives.

Sometime around New Years, Gale starts datingone of Katniss’ coworkers instead, reawakening his hopes.

************************

TWENTY-FIVE

Peeta’s not sure what wakes him. He lays in thedark trying to place the sounds. There’s movement beside him in the bed andthen a sharp inhale.

“Katniss?” he asks, reaching out to turn on thebedside lamp, grateful that the power’s been restored, before rolling over tocheck on her. Sometimes she has nightmares about a car wreck that nearly killedher entire family when she was a teenager. Her eyes are wide and hazy as shewatches him, her cheeks stained with heat, her entire body rigid. “Are youokay?”

“Fine,” she gasps. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

“You don’t sound fine,” Peeta says and scootscloser to her. She flinches back away from him. His brow furrows in confusion,but as the seconds tick by, the appalled look still on her face, Peeta acceptswhat he feared earlier. That whatever happened between them was not some grandconfession of her love for him after all, but just a one night stand. And nowshe probably regrets it. “Okay. I’ll just go sleep on the couch. Give you somespace.”

“Graham sleeps there,” Katniss says, promptingPeeta to look at the time on his phone. It’s not even midnight yet. Rain stilldrums on the roof, steady and heavy, although he doesn’t hear any thunder.

“They won’t be home for a few more hours. He cansleep on the floor,” Peeta says and moves to stand from the bed.

“Wait!” Katniss says and grabs his arm. Peetastares down at her hand, at the two fingers glistening in the faint light. Hecan feel the sticky moisture coating them. Slowly, he lifts his gaze to her asthe realization of what she was doing dawns on him.

The very thought that she was doing that besidehim, in his bed, coupled with her tight grip on his arm sends desire screamingthrough his body. She huffs before releasing him, but he grips her wrist andbrings her hand towards his face. It’ll probably scare the shit out of her, buthe’s already told her that he’s in love with her, so what’s one more gamble?

He can smell her arousal on her fingers andwatches her eyes turn limpid with desire as he opens his mouth and sets herfingers on his tongue before sucking. The taste confirms his suspicions. He’snever forgetting this taste as long as he lives.

“Were you touching yourself, Katniss?” he asks,the lack of sleep removing his usual filters. She licks her lips and flexes herfingers, her wrist still in his hold.

“Maybe,” she whispers and he waits for furtherexplanation. She seems to come to a decision and scoots closer to him, leanstowards him. “I didn’t want to bother you, but I…I was thinking about you,Peeta. I always think about you.”

His stomach flips over and his cock stirs tolife at her confession. These aren’t things Katniss would share easily or withjust anyone. She guards her heart and her desires like they’re gold in FortKnox most of the time. Too many dates and boyfriends who claimed to love herfiery spirit only to try to douse it once they had her has made her cautious.Peeta wants to destroy every last one of them for nearly destroying one of thethings that draws him to her.

“But there’s more,” she whispers and he smilesslightly at the memory of his birthday two years ago. “I feel the same way.”

It takes him a moment to catch up, but when hedoes, his heart soars. “You’re helplessly in love with me?”

“I am,” she says with a slow nod. “I have beenfor a long time. I’m not sure how long, but I know that I don’t want whathappened earlier tonight to be the last time we do those things together.”

Peeta shifts beneath the covers to move in onher and Katniss reaches out to palm him through his shorts, making himimpossibly hard. “I thought we were taking things slow.”

“Slow? We’ve both wanted this for years, Peeta.Don’t you think that’s slow enough?” she asks, one eyebrow climbing up herforehead as her lips curl into a smile.

“Fair enough,” he says, relieved when she twiststheir hands so she’s gripping his wrist and pulls his hand straight to hercenter. She moans at the first touch of his fingers, the sound needy enoughthat he barely registers that her panties are nowhere on her body. “Fuck you’realready so wet. Next time you can’t sleep…wake me up and I’ll gladly help.”

“Oh, okay. I will,” she whispers. A thoughtoccurs to him and he needs to know, another piece that would mean she didn’tmake this choice on a whim.

“When I asked you earlier today if I was losingmy touch–”

“Oh my god,” she moans, gripping his arms as hecurls his fingers inside her. His cock jumps eagerly when he feels just howaroused she already is.

“What did you do after we hung up last night?”

“This. Oh, Peeta,” she admits breathlessly.

He hasn’t even made a wish on birthday candlesyet today, and here his wishes are all coming true. He strokes her folds andlatches his mouth around one nipple after she tears her shirt from her body.Her hands claw at his shirt too, but he waits until she’s writhing and pleadingwith him, telling him that she needs him, before he stops kissing and touchingher long enough to remove his clothes. His hands fumble around in hisnightstand before he finds a condom. He squints at the expiration date, hisvision clouded as Katniss’ teeth tug on his earlobe and her body writhesbeneath him.

“Hurry. Now,” she urges when he’s able to makeout that it’s still good, if only just. Once he has it on, their hands grip andtug, bodies shift until he’s sliding inside of her.

“Finally,” she sighs when he’s buried all theway, his pulse thrumming madly and his arms shaking in the effort to keep frompounding into her mindlessly.

“You love me,” he whispers as he pulls out tilljust his head is still inside her.

“I do, Peeta,” she gasps as he plunges back in.

“Why’d we wait so long?” he groans as he gripsthe sheets beside her ribs and moves slowly, so he doesn’t hurt her.

“I don’t know anymore,” she says threading herfingers through his hair and bringing his mouth to hers. They kiss as he moves,building her up to the point she can’t take it anymore.

He can’t decide if he’d rather kiss her orwatch, and ends the kiss to rest his forehead on hers and do the latter, awedby the open desire and need in her gray eyes. “God Katniss, I wish I’d beenbraver sooner. Had spoken up a year ago when I wanted to.”

“Shut up and make up for it now,” she orders.She writhes beneath him, tangling the sheets around their legs, moaning witheach thrust until she bends upwards and grips the slats of his headboard withone hand.

“Please. Peeta, please,” she whines. “Don’t makeme wait any longer.”

He moves faster, encouraged by the singing wailsof delight that fly from her throat and dance through his senses along with theecstasy of being inside her. She demands everything from him and he gives it,gripping the headboard with one hand next to hers, to give himself betterleverage, shouting when her nails rake over his shoulder and back, trailing firethrough his blood with her eager moans and desperate thrusts meeting his. Thebed squeaks and the headboard keeps time against the wall. Their slick skinslides and sticks and burns at every touch. It’s never been this loud, intense,or uninhibited with anyone before and he shoves aside regrets that he didn’tspeak up sooner to live fully in this moment, to focus on her first tremors onhis cock.

“Like that. Ung! Just like that, Peeta!” sheexclaims, her eyes locked on his, and then her words dissolve into incoherentsounds of elation as he twists his hips until her walls cease their clenching.His arms shake and she practically purrs as she moves her hips against his,whispers to him to keep going, to come for her.

The headboard once more thumps against the wallin time with his desperate grunts. He tries not to pound her like an animal,but her claws in his skin and the things she whispers to him drive him out ofhis mind with need. He’s hanging off the edge until she demands that he ‘letgo’ and he thrusts twice more, releasing a gut wrenching shout as euphoriaburns through him. Peeta falls still as he fills the condom, his orgasm lastinglonger than any he can remember. He practically blacks out from the intense pleasureand has to roll to the side to keep from crushing her when he collapses.

He lays there with his eyes closed and theirlegs entangled, catching his breath and trailing his fingers through the sheenof sweat on her skin, listening to her ragged breathing as they slowly driftback down.

“Happy Birthday, Peeta. Told you that you couldhave both,” she whispers as she rolls over to cuddle into his side. He holdsher there and smiles, opening one eye and checking the clock on his phone,surprised when he sees that the time is 11:58. So it is still his birthday.Setting the phone down, he gathers her in his embrace and kisses her, slow andsavoring each touch, each soft smacking sound of their mouths. The thoughtdrifts through his mind that his brother was wrong. The best thing to everhappen to him occurred on his twenty-fifth birthday, and he’s certain that itcan only get better from here.

“I never gave you your present,” she pouts atone point, making Peeta laugh.

“You mean there’s more?”

**********************

Although Katniss staying the night is nothingnew, they’re careful about their appearance the next morning as they wanderinto the kitchen for breakfast, not wanting to give his brothers anything toantagonize them over. Peeta’s surprised to see both of his brothers awake,leaning against the kitchen counter and drinking coffee, a plate of muffinsfresh from the oven sitting on the island. Both of them appear cheerful and notthe least bit hungover.

“Morning,” he says as Katniss slides into one ofthe stools at the island and he starts the water for tea.

“Good morning indeed,” Ryen says, making thehair on the back of Peeta’s neck stand on edge. He turns to say something, buthis brother cuts him off. “We didn’t get a chance to give you your cake lastnight. But last minute changes needed to be made to the message, so I guess itturned out better this way.”

Katniss lifts the lid off the plastic cakecaddy, her face almost instantly turning a splotchy red before she drops thelid back in place and stares up at Peeta with wide eyes.

He’s by her side in two steps as his brothersboth double over in laughter. At first, Katniss tries to stop him from looking,and he’s now a little scared of what he’ll find beneath the lid, but then shesighs and shrugs, flipping the lid off for him herself and smiling wryly.

“Guess they got home earlier than we thought,”she says and Peeta looks down at the messy frosting job that clearly indicateshis brothers scraped off the original icing and replaced it with the four wordsin bright blue.

Congrats on the Sex!

He opens his mouth to yell at his brothers forbeing insensitive assholes, but Katniss laughs and then yanks his head down tohers, stopping his words and his annoyance at his brothers with her lips onhis. He loses himself quickly in the kiss and only vaguely hears his brothers’reaction.

“So does this mean you’ll have an open bedroomsoon?”

“Oh fuck no. Don’t leave me with him, Peeta,”Ryen whines.

Peeta lifts his head and pushes the cake towardshis brother. “Have some cake, Ryen. It’ll make you feel better.” Then hedeposits the plate of fresh muffins in Katniss’ hands, scoops her out of herchair, and carries her and the muffins back to bed…so they can have both.

[gearyoak]

Gray, Red, Black

i am struggling to find inspiration, this is all i have lmao so how bout a lil young mcgenji in the modern zombie apocalypse??? eh?

there’s blood and stuff, and a few dead guys as well also my sub par writing ;)

The windows hadn’t been broken, and that had given him hope. Genji expressed several times over that that wasn’t something he should experience anymore. No matter how empty a home looked, how clean water seemed, or how unbroken a gas station’s windows were, McCree should never get his hopes up. Sometimes, following a hope got in the way of being smart, and being smart is what kept Genji alive for so long.

“Seems like an awful pessimistic way of livin’, if you ask me,” McCree had told him.

“Pessimistic?” Genji’s eyes were focused on the road ahead of him, pulling the truck up onto the sidewalk in front of the gas station, but he still laughed. “You’ve met my brother, haven’t you?”

“I think I’d be safe in sayin’ you and him have the same outlook on life, he just got stuck with the bad sense of humor.”

Genji laughed again, twisting the keys from the ignition and tossing them up onto the dash. “There are worse ways to live,” was what he ended up saying in his and his brother’s defense. “And quicker ways to die.”

The gas station showed no signs of a break in, but that was only because the building had been left unlocked. The shelves were relatively empty, the contents of garbage cans strewn across the floors, and the cash register forced open and picked clean. They weren’t worried on that front, not at that point yet, at least. The school still had a decent food stock from when the shelter had been running, and they had since learned to ration efficiently, but medicine was what they started to fret over. Days were getting shorter, and the weather harsher. The last thing they needed was a flu pandemic wiping out what was left of their group.

“Maybe this is why we get along so well, Jesse,” Genji said, moving a tattered piece cardboard idly with the end of his bat. “Because I am pessimistic, and you love to be proven wrong.”

McCree regarded him with a dismissive eye roll but otherwise chose to ignore him. “Any first-aid kit they’d’ve had would prol’ly be with the cleanin’ stuff. We should check out back for a supply closet.”

The freezers had been left open, but there was nothing left within to go bad or spoil. They checked each one briefly, just to ensure their emptiness. The most they found was a stained blanket, and a pair of children’s shoes. McCree shut the door to that freezer, and neither him or Genji made a comment.

Their search led them to the farthest side of the station to a closed door branded with a simple label of “CLOSET”.

“Think this’s it?” McCree asked with a grin, positioning himself on one side of the door. With one hand he gripped the doorknob – twisting it once to make sure it was unlocked – and in the other he held a knife.

Genji stepped back and away from the door. “No. They put the ‘CLOSET’ sign up there to fool us. We should keep looking.”

“Maybe that’s what they wanted us to think.”

“Maybe. I’m ready when you are.”

The door didn’t screech on its hinges when McCree pulled it open, slow and steady as to not disturb whatever might be waiting for them. Inside was still and cluttered. Shelves lined either side of two walls, along with the few that were pushed to the middle of the room, creating a narrow square path that allowed passage throughout the closet. Each shelf was filled with different containers and bottles, some having leaked onto the concrete floor and leaving a nearly overbearing chemical odor behind. Push brooms and mops were leant up against a doorway on the opposite side of them, and above that door was an unlit exit sign. In one corner, a pile of plastic tarps.

No first-aid kit in sight, however.

Genji made a low noise, a sort of disappointed hum. “This doesn’t seem to follow fire safety regulations,” he said at first, offhandedly. Then he lowered his bat and added, “I’ll go search up front again. Maybe they kept it at the register.”

“Yeah. I’ll see if I can find anything outta this mess.”

They separate, but not before Genji squeezes at McCree’s hip wordlessly, and only after McCree returns the gesture with a quiet, “See ya soon.” They had made sure the building was empty, but things haven’t seemed to go anyone’s way as of late. There was always room to worry for each other.

Now that he was alone, the front of the store seemed more eerie in its silence. Through the trees, orange light filtered in and casted long, jagged shadows along every surface. Outside, a man shuffled onto the street, nearly tripping over some torn tire rubber before disappearing into the alley across the way.

Eerie, but peaceful, in the solemn way that is brought with the end of the world.

Genji hopped over the counter and landed in the midst of several Rice Krispies Treat wrappers. The foil crunched when he kicked them away absentmindedly and he didn’t pay them any attention afterward. He crouched and opened each cabinet one by one. They were small and it wasn’t likely for something to be hiding in there, but habits like those would die with him.

He found paper towels, Windex, rolls of receipt paper, a container of pens, paper bags, and no first- aid kit. The door to the last cabinet shut a little too forcefully, and Genji let out a weary sigh. There were worse outcomes to their run, but returning to the school empty handed wasn’t ideal either. Angela was an exceptional nurse and she worked brilliantly with what little they had, but some might call that luck and it was bound to run out at some point. The same could have been said about sending people out on these pointless searches. McCree and him will return with nothing that day, but what of when they send two or three more for a hopeless run? They go out for nothing and never come back.

Genji straightened suddenly, refusing to think about it further. There was one last hope; they haven’t checked the restrooms yet and it seemed promising at this point. Their last shot.

“Jesse,” he called toward the double doors, already heading for the entrance. “I’m going around and checking the bathrooms outside.”

McCree’s response came just before he pulled the glass door open, “Hold on, I’ll come with you. I ain’t findin’ shit in – “

The other’s voice was cut off by a crashing noise, like metal scraping against concrete, and then a thunderous crash. Genji was already moving by the time he heard McCree swearing, bursting through the double doors hard enough that the echo of them slamming against the walls resounded throughout the building.

The door labeled ‘CLOSET’ had been shut in the time it took Genji to reach it, and it shook and rattled, as if there was a struggle happening on just the other side. He twisted the knob and was met with the resistance of a lock. His fist pounded once against the wood and he cursed loudly, panicked. Kicking it down would take too much time, and he didn’t have enough room in the hallway to even attempt it.

Genji repeated his curse, tacking on a few more as he retraced his steps back to the entrance. The sun had set further, and the sky went from gold to grey. With it had come a chill, but Genji hardly paid it any mind, didn’t slow even when the cool air stung at his face. Racing around the gas station, passed the bathrooms, he didn’t stop until he was faced with the metal door he remembered from the closet.

“Don’t be locked,” he begged the rusted metal, and then pulled on its handle. There was a crunch of corrosion and it gave way a little, but remained stuck to its arch. Genji couldn’t hear anything on the other side. His breath rattled in his chest and he tugged again, “Fuck, fuck – Jesse? I’m at the exit! I can’t – “ The door peeled open, swinging wide and nearly taking Genji with it. He stumbled back, steadying himself just barely and with yet another swear.

The closet was in worse shape than what he left it in. Shelves had toppled over, the chemicals that had been stacked on them now accumulating in puddles along the floor. The formation of the shelves was in disarray, one entire side of the square having been collapsed in a domino-esque fashion. Besides dripping of liquid, there was no noise. He was not hesitant to break the silence, rushing forward and around the corner with a type of reckless abandon. Even though his bat was still held in a white-knuckled grip, Genji’s thoughts were not on protection nor self-preservation. It was desperation, a need to find McCree, to get home, to lay in his own bed and ensure that he would have a cowboy to share it with.

He saw the plastic tarps on the floor and registered that they had been moved first, and that they were wet with something second, right after he stepped on one. Before he lost his footing, he latched on to one of the metal racks and threw his weight back onto the leg still on safe ground. The tarp under him shined with a red fluid, tinted deeply with brown and smelled heavily of bleach. Genji’s eyes followed the trail of plastic to where they had originally been piled in the corner, finding a circle of the same color dried into the concrete.

Old blood, his brain supplied. Not Jesse’s. Can’t be Jesse’s. Carefully, Genji stepped over the tarp and the now empty Clorox container to continue onward.

McCree was sitting with his back pressed to the closet door when Genji found him. His expression was hidden to him as his head was bowed slightly, hair falling forward to shield his face. Genji didn’t need to see it to know what he was staring at.

Across from McCree laid a man, old and shriveled but most likely middle-aged when it died. The skin was brown and cracked along the edges of its ears, its eyes, and was simply missing around its mouth, but there was no mistaking the man it had been before. It wore khaki shorts and a polo half tucked in the front; an old corpse, from the beginning. There was a knife lodged into its chest – not McCree’s; his was dropped in between his bent legs, wet with black. Genji thought back to the children’s shoes in the freezer, this man who had been buried under a pile of tarps. He couldn’t imagine the story behind them, and he didn’t want to.

He knocked the familiar knife away and took its place, dropping down onto his knees in between McCree’s thighs. With shaking hands, he grabbed at the cowboy’s left arm and searched through the mess of blood for any scratches or bites, running his fingers along the rolled-up sleeve of McCree’s flannel. There were no tears in the fabric, so he moved on.

In the time it had taken him to repeat the process with the other arm, and then checked his torso and neck, McCree had yet to respond to him. His gaze went passed Genji, still somehow locked onto the body behind him. He wasn’t used to this, Genji knew. McCree had told him he had little to do with outside of the school until recently, only having helped keep the gates clear prior. Even then that was with a gun in his hand, a brick wall, and yards of distance in between; he hardly had any experience with lame brains up close.

Gently, Genji took both of McCree’s hands into his own. He lifted one, found an inch of skin that was clean of red, and pressed a kiss there. His mouth lingered when he heard McCree’s breath stutter out in one, long sigh. Tense shoulders relaxed as much as they could when he did the same to the other hand, the underside of his wrist, the crook of his jaw, the bridge of his nose. Finally, the cowboy shifted, and he pulled his hands from Genji’s to settle them at the younger’s waist.

“I’m fine, darlin’.”

Genji hummed and slumped forward until his forehead rested against McCree’s. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not,” he assured, closing his eyes. “What was that bastard doin’ under there, anyway?”

“I don’t know.”

They were allowed a few more moments of quiet peace until time caught up to them. The sun had just set, and the others were sure to be worrying about them. Genji never liked staying out passed dusk. He tilted his head so he could share another kiss, quick and chaste, one McCree could return. He whispered about how late it was, how Ana was sure to scold them for making her fret, and the cowboy laughed at that. Weakly, but genuine. Genji was glad to hear it.

With nothing to show for their troubles – besides new bruises – Genji and McCree retreated to the truck. It started up without a hassle, and the rumble of the engine drew out the man Genji had seen meander into the alley earlier. Death seemed to follow them everywhere, in more ways than one, but he was able to drive passed it this time. It screamed and reached for them with grayed hands, but its pace didn’t quicken – couldn’t quicken. It wouldn’t catch them, not today.

Genji reached over the center console and took McCree’s hand, his heart settling in his chest when he found it waiting for him, and did not think about tomorrow.

ppl got over zombies back in like 2013 but i never did. this is part of a bigger thing that i talked about with someone but never actually wrote so like there’s a story i’m just a lazy and terrible writer and didn’t commit.

[fallendawn]

i saw totally cringe worthy forced romance earlier and i wanted to cry so i alleviated the pain with some morning ship fluff in a similar scenario (person a admits their feelings to person b and gets flustered) so anyways enjoy

under the cut ‘cause this turned into a monster oops @quinzelade @cerulean-city @so-anywayy it’s nothing spoilerly seeing as this probably doesn’t even happen in the canon (i have an idea of how it becomes Official)

Astri grabs a damp towel from the rack and immediately begins dabbing at her skin. The room is nice and crisp, aiding her cooldown, and though she is tired, she makes no attempt to sit down. On the wall hooks, her uniform hangs patiently, a black tee shirt crumpled on the floor beneath, but she remains in her shorts and sports bra for now. It’s too hot.

Wow, did it feel good to lose herself for so long. Checking the time, she realises she’s been in the gym for hours, the majority of it dancing. Alerts pinged in her head reminding her of staff meetings, mission scenarios, and other important things she still needed to tend to and now is running behind. For once, she doesn’t care. Well, in this instance that she’s still in the euphoria of a great workout. That will soon change once she puts back on the clothes and the “Captain persona” that goes with.

She throws the towel around her shoulders while still holding onto the ends. Walks to the bench where her bag is and grabs her cannister. Oh yes, she knows this is the year 3765 and the world has evolved into a time where the flying ship provides clothing, food, and water at a mental command, but there is a particular grounding experience she enjoys from bringing her own sports bag. In few quick gulps, she empties the cannister. She knows better, don’t rush it all at once, but again, that satisfying moment of breaking the rules. The uniform isn’t on yet. Nor does she make a habit of abusing her body.

Placing the bottle beside the bag, she grabs a second container, and this one she’s more conservative. There’s food inside the bag tucked somewhere beneath the gym shirts and track pants that she never really wears. And if she does wear them, they usually come off after the warm up. The squad has a point when they claim she seldom wears clothes, but she also doesn’t understand their modesty to this day.

Hydraulics releasing air pressure captures her attention, and she looks to the entrance curiously. Not that this is a private gym, but it’s in such an out of the way location of the ship, no one really uses it. For as long as the Midnight has been commissioned, this section, once the weapons armoury but repurposed for obvious reasons, served as Astri’s personal training area because of its remote location. Who made the special trip all this way?

Meriel Blodwyn. The prodigal rookie. With excellent magical potential. Shown to be an exceptionally fast learner. Very fit. Attractive. And if the centuries spent in the Celestial Aetas stasis are to be ignored, very close in age to her.

She takes another swig from the cannister, caution be damned.

“Hey, boss!” Meriel waves cheerily, and Astri responds with a nod while still drinking. Over Meriel’s shoulder is a bright orange athletic bag. She’s wearing shorts of the same colour that stop mid thigh, and a white shirt that’s tied to fit like a crop top. Her hair, strawberry blonde today, is loose and playful, bouncing along with her. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Astri shrugs. It’s taking longer to cool down than she is used to. The workout was longer than normal, but her face is still flushed, she’s still sweating, and her breathing is still uneven. And she’s reached the bottom of the second bottle.

Meriel pauses when Astri still says nothing and tilts her head curiously. “Everything okay?”

“Mhm.” Now her heart is beating faster, and she wonders if she overexerted herself.

“I can go to the main gym,” Meriel offers, pointing behind her. “I just wanted to practise somewhere with less people so I can have more room. And NocNoc recommended this room.”

“Of course she did.”

She doesn’t mean for it to sound as dry as it does. The edge is directed to Nocturna who hears all and needs to stop interfering in Astri’s personal life. But to her surprise Meriel’s reaction is an eyebrow raise and a smile that teases. Astri finally stops kidding herself. This chain of reactions has nothing to do with her workout.

“You’re flustered.”

Astri glares. “I’m not flustered.”

“Spirits, you’re adorable.”

“I’m not flustered,” Astri repeats through gritted teeth.

“It’s the day we met all over again,” Meriel laughs, resuming her bouncy step to the bench. She casually drops the bag next to Astri’s and takes a seat to remove her shoes.

She can’t help it. Astri smirks. “Maybe. Less ambush.”

“Hm…” Meriel looks up after the first shoe is off, but Astri can’t read her expression. Because her hair continued to get in the way, Meriel pulls it back while she is up, using the spare hair tie on her wrist to make it a tail. Then she lowers herself again to take off the other shoe.

The instant it is off, Meriel strikes. Astri’s quick reflexes are what save her, but Meriel’s wink and grin almost stop her heart. “Better?”

It is cute how much Meriel has to reach because of their height difference, but even with her disadvantage, Astri knows how much of a threat she is. She takes no time in a follow up that Astri deflects. The moment Meriel enters Wolf, Astri counters with Falcon and is no longer focused on her fluid movements from one step into the next, or the loose strands of hair that fall over her face, just short of the warm brown eyes that light up her beautiful smile, or the very faint freckles only seen this close…

Well, not as focused.

They come to a stalemate not too far in and Astri stares for just a second too long. She disengages quickly. Hands on hip, Meriel laughs and takes a moment to breathe, just watching Astri fumble for her third and last water bottle in the bag.

“I’m not the only one who sports one!” Meriel says excitedly, indicating to Astri. “I never see anyone use one. They’ll get water and stuff from NocNoc.”

Astri swallows and lowers the bottle to look at their partnered bags. She shrugs. “It feels more natural to me.”

“Same, to be honest,” Meriel replies, affectionately patting hers. “Inner city schools didn’t have all this fancy tech, you know? We probably played with toys that you’d be used to. But it made cheerleading really fun. More authentic. And brought out the best in us.”

Astri nods. One look at Meriel and no one could argue with the results. “Old school” is simply better in some regards.

Now that she can mostly recover from her earlier nerves, Astri begins to gather her things. She walks to the shirt on the floor and picks it up. Then she glances at the captain’s uniform and sighs. There is nothing heavier than this suit which literally bears the weight of the world.

“You know.” Astri nearly jumps out of her skin at Meriel’s sudden statement. “I like it when you let your hair down like this.”

She throws a confused look back at her. Her hair is very clearly up. Granted it’s no longer in the bun she started with, but that’s because it’s so heavy it always falls apart halfway through the Warriors. Still, it’s braided and back.

Meriel chuckles. “Sorry, it’s a figure of speech. Um, basically I like when you cut loose. Out of uniform, I guess.”

“Ah.” Astri returns to the uniform and shrugs. “Same.”

She must have hesitated for much longer than she thought. Meriel’s hand is on her arm, and she looks at it for a second before locking eyes with Meriel. An inviting smile. A brief promise. “What’s the rush?”

There were reasons. In fact she had an entire list of why she needed to go back. But Astri can’t seem to remember any of them right now.

Tingles of energy pulse from Meriel’s fingertips as she skims her arm to hold Astri’s hand and pull her away from the uniform. “Let’s dance.”

“Okay.”

By every definition, Astri should not be able to keep going much longer, but yet again time is lost. Today will be completely unproductive as far as military operations are concerned. Saundra can deal with it. Astri needs this moment to be “loose,” and now with a partner it feels even better. She pulls and pushes, she leads and follows, she goes from step into another. Meriel imitates her, sometimes taking an initiative to show off what she’s learned, but mostly taking Astri’s example.

It’s when Astri’s body begins to physically complain that she comes to a stop and takes a seat on the bench, Meriel right beside her. But she is smiling. She doesn’t even realise it, but it’s the kind that lights up her entire face and makes her absolutely glow. Meriel is reciprocating.

After a few minutes of drinking water and catching their breath, Astri looks over to Meriel. Once again high off the rush, the words are out before she is able to fully process.

“I’m glad you joined.”

Meriel laughs. “I mean, let’s be real, my options were pretty limited.”

“No, I mean, I’m glad you joined my team.” For once Meriel is the quiet one as she takes this in. “That you’re here with us. With me. I really like you.”

Too late it clicks what she’s said and she flushes. She takes another drink, half-wishing it to be stronger than water, to avoid Meriel’s look. It’s not until their hands are joined that she realises she left the side adjacent to Meriel free. She looks down at the contact, and then makes the brave gesture of meeting Meriel’s gaze. She’s beaming. Astri doesn’t know how to process this. She gets up and very quickly gathers her things.

“I need to go. Lots to do.”

Meriel chuckles and watches. Astri reaches the uniform and makes a mental command to Nocturna to return it to her cabin. It’s swallowed up by the wall and disappears. She slings the bag over her shoulder and starts to leave.

“Hey, Astri?”

Her name sounds rich on Meriel’s tongue. Sweet. It also leaves her longing for more. But she only offers a halt in her step and a look over her shoulder.

“I really like you too.”

Astri smiles but still isn’t ready to take this in. She nods and continues out the door.

[365daysofj2]

The Truffle Kerfuffle (Bears 'verse, 5/?)

Jensen pulls into Jared’s driveway and texts him. Here. Be right down, comes the answering text. It’s another couple of minutes before Jared comes crutching out the front door and makes his way carefully down the porch steps. Jensen unlocks his car and Jared shoves the crutches in the backseat. He’s supposed to use them for two weeks, and he hates every minute of it. He collapses into the front seat and pulls the door closed. “Sorry I took so long.” Jensen pats his knee. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll still be early.” “Are you gonna tell me what we’re doing now?” he asks as Jensen pulls out onto Main Street. “We’re going to a chocolate lab to make truffles,” replies Jensen with a grin. Jared’s answering grin is a bit hesitant. “I’m pretty terrible in the kitchen.” “I think you’ll be okay. All you have to do is roll the chocolate center and dip it in melted chocolate to coat it. It doesn’t even involve utensils, only your hands.” Jensen rubs Jared’s shoulder. “I thought it would be fun. Try not to worry so much.” Jared looks down at his hands. “I just don’t want to ruin Valentine's Day too.” “You won’t.” Jensen grasps Jared’s hand and squeezes it. “We’re gonna be together. That’s all I care about.” Once they get to the museum, Jensen hands their tickets to the staff person at the door and holds it as Jared crutches through. They line up outside the doors of the lab with several other couples. Another staff person, a blonde woman in a white lab coat, pulls them aside. “Let’s get you inside and sitting down,” she says to Jared. “Thanks,” Jared replies, crutching after her and into the lab. The woman gets them set up at a table in the very front with much lower chairs than the rest. She takes Jared’s crutches and leans them against the wall. “We’ll be bringing the rest of the class in shortly. Are you all right here?” Jensen looks to Jared, who nods. “Yes, we’re great. Thanks.” He takes Jared’s hand and nudges his shoulder. “You’re good, right?” “Yeah, I’m good.” Jared smiles, genuinely this time. The rest of the class fills in the tables and another woman with short dark hair comes out in a lab coat and hairnet. She starts pulling things out of drawers and a large industrial cooler with double doors and metal racks. The blonde woman stands in front of the class. “Welcome to Truffles for Couples. I’m Samantha, and back there is Kim, and we’ll be your instructors for tonight.” She steps back behind the counter and starts pulling plastic bags out of a drawer. “First things first, this is a food preparation lab, so proper food safety protocol must be followed. Each of you will get an apron and a hairnet. Make sure you cover all your hair with the net.” She starts handing out hairnets and aprons, beginning with Jensen and Jared. Jensen pulls on his hairnet, grimacing at how dorky he must look. He unfolds his apron and stands up to put it on. Jared looks a little panicked, so Jensen unwraps his apron for him and drapes it over his chest. “Here, lean forward and I’ll tie it.” Jared leans forward so Jensen can tie the strings in the back. Once Jensen’s done, he hands Jared the hairnet and helps him corral all of his shaggy brown hair. They both look ridiculous and Jensen can’t help but chuckle a little. He nudges Jared’s shoulder. “I’m glad our friends aren’t here to see this.” Jared grins back. “Yeah, they’d never let us hear the end of it.” Samantha and Kim hand out square plastic trays, wax paper bags, and markers. “Go ahead and put your names on the bags. We’ll use those to keep your plates straight,” says Samantha. They do as they’re told. Kim and Samantha then start distributing bowls of chocolate ganache, cups of melted milk and white chocolate, dishes of sprinkles, and plastic forks and what look like giant coffee stirrers. They walk the class through the process of rolling the chocolate ganache, coating it with the melted chocolate, and setting it on the tray with the forks. Then they demonstrate drizzling with the stirrer sticks. Samantha smiles. “Whatever’s leftover when you’re finished, you are encouraged—but not required—to eat.” Jensen plucks out a clump of chocolate ganache and rolls it into a ball. Jared does the same, although his ball is a little lopsided. Jensen drops it in the melted milk chocolate and stirs till it’s coated, then removes it with the fork and puts it on his plate. He sprinkles heart-shaped candies on it. He starts on his second one while Jared’s still struggling to get his out of the cup of white chocolate. “You want some help?” asks Jensen. Jared shakes his head. “No, I’ll get it.” He finally does, and sets it on his plate. He sprinkles red sugar on it. Jensen coats his next truffle in white and drizzles milk chocolate over it. Jared looks at it with wide eyes. “Wow, that looks really nice.” “It’s not that hard,” says Jensen. “Try it.” Jared rolls a truffle and puts it in the milk chocolate. He wrestles it back out and puts it on his tray. He stirs his stick in the white chocolate and lets some drip off, and then he tries to drizzle the truffle, but his ends up all criss-crossed, with some thick lines and some really thin ones. His face falls. Jensen pats his arm. “It’ll still taste good. These are just for us anyway.” Jared nods. “I know.” He rolls another lopsided truffle and puts it in the milk chocolate. Jensen doesn’t realize how close Jared is to the far edge of the table until he sticks his fork in and pushes the cup right off the table. He gasps and scrambles to catch it, but can’t, and it spatters all over the floor. “Oh, dear,” says the dark-haired instructor, Kim. She grabs a rag and some paper towels and comes out to clean up the mess. “I am so sorry,” stammers Jared. “I can’t believe I did that.” “No worries,” replies Kim. “It happens.” She stands up. “It’s a little late to melt another more chocolate, though.” She picks up the cup, which has just enough inside for a few more drizzles, and hands it to Jared. “I hope you don’t mind just making do with what you have.” “No, that’s okay.” Jared sets the cup down gingerly. “I’m really sorry.” His cheeks are as red as the candies on the table. Jensen rolls the last truffle and dips it in the white chocolate. He sets it on Jared’s plate and drizzles it with the remaining milk chocolate. Jared bites his lip. “I can’t believe I fucked up again.” Jensen rests a hand on the back of Jared’s neck and kisses his flushed cheek. “It was an accident. You didn’t hurt yourself or anyone else. It’s all right.” Jared shakes his head. Before he can respond, Samantha and Kim come around to collect the trays. “We’ll put them in the cooler to set and they’ll be done in about twenty minutes,” Samantha tells them. Samantha then talks to them about Milton and Catherine Hershey’s relationship and about the process of making chocolate from cocoa beans. After about twenty minutes, she and Kim hand out heart-shaped red boxes and gold ribbon. The trays are returned. Jared’s short one truffle, but Kim comes out from behind the counter with a milk chocolate truffle drizzled perfectly with white and sets it in Jared’s box next to the others. She winks at him and then returns to the cooler. Jensen helps Jared tie the ribbon around the box. The class is dismissed, so Jensen and Jared shed their hairnets and aprons. Jensen hands Jared his crutches and takes both boxes from the table. Kim gives Jensen two red roses and smiles. “I hope you had a good time.” “We did,” Jensen assures her. He pats Jared’s shoulder. “Thanks for helping us.” “Thanks for coming.” The room has mostly cleared out, so she stands back and lets Jared start making his way out of the lab. “Happy Valentine's Day.” “Thanks, same to you,” says Jensen. He follows Jared out to the museum proper. Once they’re out of the museum, Jared starts toward the parking garage, but Jensen stops him. “We’re going over to Houlihans. We’ve got reservations in fifteen minutes.” Jared shakes his head. “I just want to go home.” Jensen steps in front of Jared and grasps his shoulders. He leans forward and kisses Jared as passionately as he can on a public sidewalk. “It’s Valentine's Day, and we’re going to have dinner as a couple. Please, just try to relax and have a good time.” He kisses Jared once more. “Come on. It’s not far.” They make their way across the parking lot to the restaurant. They’re given an intimate booth in the corner, lit by a large pillar candle. Jared orders a soft drink, and Jensen decides to do the same even though he’d rather have a glass of wine. He doesn’t want to make Jared feel uncomfortable. Jared opens the menu. “Don’t forget, we get a discount with my ID.” “You have your ID?” Jared nods. “Yeah, in my wallet.” “It’ll work even if I pay the whole check?” “Yeah, it will, but you don’t have to do that.” “I want to,” says Jensen, smiling at Jared. “I’m trying to make it up to you for ruining the weekend.” “You didn’t ruin the weekend, I did,” replies Jared, looking confused. “Why are you trying to make it up to me?” Jensen covers Jared’s hand with his own. “Because most of the problems were my fault. So just let me spoil you a little, okay?” Jared’s lips quirk up in a hesitant smile. “If you insist.” “I insist,” Jensen says forcefully. “Now, what appetizer should we get?” They order their food, and once the server has left Jensen picks up his glass and holds it up in a toast. “We might have met because of an accident, but it was no accident that we met.” Jared raises his glass, and Jensen goes on. “To more of the happy accidents, and less of the bad ones.” Jared clinks his glass against Jensen’s. “I’ll drink to that.” “Happy Valentine's Day, Jared.” Jensen takes a sip of his soda. Jared smiles, the first real smile Jensen’s seen all night. His dimples come out in full force, and Jensen falls for Jared just that much more. “Happy Valentine's Day, Jensen.”