(say this happens sometime after keith joins the group again)
Lance and Hunk are talking about love advice and feelings again, and at the end Hunk just goes “Man, it must be a lot, loving someone. Being in love.” And Keith just happens to be nearby and hears what Hunk says, and scoffs, “Aren’t they the same? Why does there have to be two different terms for the same thing?”
Lance then butts in and says “Uhhh no? They’re completely different and the difference matters.” Then this hopeless romantic gets all passionate and probably says something along the lines of: “Anyone can say they love something or someone, it’s a choice. But being in love isn’t something you can easily control. Sometimes you fall in love for the silliest and most random reasons and you can’t see beyond reason because, well, you’re in love. It’s senseless, it’s weird and you never know who it will be. Sometimes you don’t even realise you’ve fallen in love until you’ve reached the very bottom.” But even after his passionate little speech, and Hunk’s knowing look, Keith, this clueless, clueless boy, just shrugs and says he still doesn’t get why there has to be a difference between the two. But then Lance goes, “You never know mullet, it could be important one day ;)”
It isn’t until later after the team comes back from a tiring mission, that someone cracks a joke or does something to lighten the mood and Lance just laughs, head thrown back, brilliant blue eyes sparkling and smiles wide. Keith then kinda stops, stares and just goes “…oh.” Hunk, noticing his friend go still next to him, asks what’s wrong. And Keith, with the most fondest fucking look on his face (you know, that look), not once taking his eyes off Lance, says quietly, “I think I get it now. I think I get the difference.”
Since Harry’s been away a lot lately because of all of the album and movie promo, you two haven’t had a chance to have some intimate time in quite a while.
And so when he tells you he’ll be going back home to you for a short break, you take it upon yourself to make this experience a fulfilling one. You go out and buy a nice new pair of lingerie. Nothing too fancy– just a simple baby pink bra with lace detailing at the brim, along with matching panties that are all lace across the back with a tiny bow at the waistband at the front.
And the second night after he’s back home (you wanted to give him the chance to sleep off all the jet lag), you find yourself in the bathroom, palms propped against the counter as you hype yourself up for the moment. Since it had been so long since Harry had seen you naked, saying you’re “shy” is the understatement of the year. And you can hear him calling for you from the bedroom, whining because he wants you to come cuddle him while he watches a The Story of Us documentary on ancient Egypt.
And so you wander into the bedroom meekly, standing before the bed in front of the TV to get his full attention, fiddling with your fingers as you stare up at him through your lashes.
Harry’s expression changes from once of slight annoyance (from being interrupted) to one of utter surprise. His eyes go all wide and his mouth parts as he ogles your chest under all the lace (the bra does a decent job in making them look plump) and raking his gaze down to the tiny diamond-detailed bow on your bottoms.
He looks frazzled with his hair in messy tuffs, all cozy in an old pair of sweatpants that have holes and an old Nickleback t-shirt and he just really wasn’t expecting anything like this. But he swallows thickly and just about bursts through his briefs when you reach up and tuck your hair behind your ear, smiling at him bashfully and, “D'ya like it?”
Harry’s crawling across the bed before you know it, nodding so hard his eyeballs rattle and he’s grabbing you by your wrist, pulling you into his lap and cupping your breasts over the soft material of the lingerie, kissing and sucking at the cleavage, voice strained and low between suckling pecks. “Fuck– yeah. Love it– s'much. Christ, you’re–a fucking– godsend.”
He leaves the bra on for show, laying you down on your back and tucking himself out of his sweats, moving your pantries to the side to allow him easy access and, “You’re really gonna fucking get it now, sweetheart. Gonna fuck you bloody raw.” He fucks into you hard and rough, full of jerky thrusts and lots of shoulder biting and fluttery kisses all around your face. He sits back on his heels, gliding into you with ease as he places a huge hand on your lower tummy while the other holds your thighs open. He’s rapidly thumbing over your clit, his two blocky front teeth digging a new shade of red into his lower lip as throaty whimpers force their way out of his mouth.
He pats his four other fingers against your abdomen as he hums a chuckle, a shit-eating grin twitching the corners of his lips. “Can feel me all the way in your tummy, can’t ya, pet? Nice and thick. Filling you all up, innit?”
Harry’s hair is flopping over his forehead and sweat pours down the sides of his neck as he bends down over your body, noses rubbing gently as he nibbles at your chin and licks at the corner of your mouth. “Tight little cunt gonna make me come. Naughty thing you are, waltzing in here with that lace and those big innocent eyes and those pretty lips. How could you not expect me to fuck the living daylights out of you?”
“That’s exactly what I expected.” You grin against his skin, nipping at his mouth tauntingly as he tuts in a warning tone.
“Careful, peach. You’re biting off more than you can chew.” He gives your clit a few sudden hard slaps, causing you to buck up against his thighs, to which he responds by shoving you back down with another hard slam of his hips. You can really feel him in your stomach now and the shattered moan you release is truly pitiful.
Harry licks his way down the valley of your chest, love bites marking the exposed skin as he rocks into you slow yet strong. His nails dig crescents into your thigh as he smolders up at you from under his furrowed eyebrows, quirking them challengingly when he sees you nod.
“You’d be surprised how much I can take. Been building up my stamina since you left.”
“Let’s put it to the test then.” He slips out of you suddenly, patting your lower hip as a signal for you to flip around. “Get on your tummy, ass up fo’ me. Atta girl, angel. Spread those pretty legs, will you? Be right back with my rings.”
that while you can make jokes about Feyre manipulating Lucien in ACOWAR by using his mating bond with Elain, that will not make him change. It will make him worse. His condition will get worse as the female he saw as a friend, manipulates him again and again. Just as Tamlin did to him.
Prompt: “Anything I can do to help?” “Just hold me”
Warnings: panic attack
A/N: Ok so this…got out of hand very quickly. It got so excessively long that I decided to make this into two chapters. I’m going to post the second part tomorrow to space them out a little bit. I’m not too sure how I feel about this but I hope you guys enjoy! Feedback is always appreciated <3
He and Hajime were walking home from class, as usual. They don’t have any classes together but they finish at the same time on Tuesdays so they catch the train together back to their flat.
There’s usually some arguing about dinner, who’s turn it is to cook or who needs to pay for groceries. Sometimes, like today, they’re both exhausted and come to a mutual agreement that cooking is overrated and they need to grab some takeout.
So they hopped off the train a few stops early to grab some food from Tooru’s favourite Chinese restaurant. It wasn’t his turn to pick, but Hajime agreed to go there anyway.
Somehow, between the shuffle of picking up their takeout bags and bickering about taking the bus home rather than walking (We can walk, Hajime insists, it’s only a few blocks; but my feet hurt! Tooru counters, tired from a long clinical day) they wind up holding hands.
Tooru just looks down and.. Oh.
Hajime’s holding his hand.
How did that happen?
Their fingers are pressed together tightly, securely; Hajime’s hand is warm in his, pulling him along just the slightest bit as they walk (Hajime was about to relent and get on the bus, but Tooru agreed to walk at the last second). Hajime’s fingers are calloused, but Tooru likes how that feels when Hajime brushes circles on the back of his hand.
Tooru blinks, confused. Did he reach over and take Hajime’s hand?
Did Hajime take his?
How long have they been holding hands?
It’s certainly not a bad thing. It feels normal, and right to be connected to Hajime like this, but he really can’t remember when it happened.
He must seem lost in thought because Hajime squeezes his hand tightly, reassuringly, bringing him back to reality.
The how and why don’t matter quite so much when Hajime leans in close to kiss Tooru’s cheek, nuzzling the side of his face.
“You down for just eating on the couch tonight? We can put on a movie and collapse,” Hajime suggests, brushing some hair off of Tooru’s forehead so that he can kiss him there.
Tooru nods, the corners of his lips tugging up into a smile. “Yeah. That sounds good.” He squeezes Hajime’s hand, continuing their walk. “Come on, let’s go home.”