#but its like. well. if i cover up the mattress too thickly whats the point of the mattress

[yoshistory]

i was looking at stuff im thinking of buying and im thinking what i actually want is to save my paychecks up for that nice mattress i've been staring at instead of getting smaller things

[mimi-ya]

he's so awkward about all of it. his crew giving him knowing looks as he leads you into the submarine, not even bothering with introductions, because what would he even say?

"this is (y/n), she asked to see my quarters and i'm pretty sure that means we're gonna fuck?!"

but you don't seem to notice the sweat gathering at his brow, or at least you're too polite to point it out.

he fumbles with the door knob, hand slightly trembling as he pushes it open. but he tries to cover and tells you he doesn't usually use doors with his devil fruit and all. you smile and nod and law lets out a sigh of relief; you totally bought it.

law is quick to straighten up his desk, pulling his hat off and putting it neatly on its hook next to where he props up his sword.

it gives you a moment to scan the room. "huh." your head cocks to the side looking at the wall of books.

"are you a fan?" law asks, eyes darting between you and the comics.

"what?" your attention is brought back to him, "oh, oh! no, i've never- i just figured you'd have more medical books than, uhm, picture books?"

law frowns, was that supposed to be a joke? "it's sora, warrior of the sea."

"right." you smile, "well, you'll have to tell me all about it sometime."

"now?" law jumps immediately, fingers already poised to shambles over the first volume but your tinkling laughter stops him.

you take a step closer and law swallows thickly when your fingers slide over his shoulder, "how about after we fuck?"

"okay!" he shouts, but his excitement is throw off by the fact he's stiff as a board and flushed all over.

with a smirk, you take a seat on the bed, legs spread and leaning back on your elbows.

law open and closes his mouth a few times, eyes glued to your hand that's sliding down your stomach.

he moves to take a step forward but then freezes. with three long strides, he crosses the room and reaches for a framed poster hanging on the wall.

a woman dressed almost like a marine clashing against a man shrouded in black. you don't have more time to examine it before law removes it from the hook, flipping it around and gently placing on the floor.

he's right back in front of you, hands on either side of your body and his weight pressing you further into the mattress.

you raise a brow, eyes flickering to the frame.

instead of an answer, you get a pair of lips finding yours in a messy kiss.

and later you get a reading of sora, warrior of the sea volume 1. voices and narration courtesy of trafalgar d. law.

every time I see a Law x reader fanfic on this site I lose a year of my life. this man isn't some dominate sex god. he's a loser who will awkwardly bring you back to his room to do it in front of his Stealth Black poster

[duskandstarlight]

POSSESSIVE PROTECTIVE CASSIAN PLEASE

This is possessive, jealous Cassian and Helion’s flirting is the culprit! I wrote this ages ago on my phone and is incomplete. The gist is that Nesta and Cassian are visiting the court so Nesta can learn more about their education system. They are not together, but sleep together with no funny business… I wrote this ages ago and it was going to go in E&L. Now it doesn’t fit, so here’s a very long bit of it…

Cassian had drank himself into a stupor and by the time he’d stumbled back to his room, it was well past midnight.

What he found surprised him: Nesta, curled up on her side of the bed beneath the covers. He heard her even breathing turn lighter. She couldn’t have been out long but her expression was riddled with sleep as she rubbed face against the pillow.

He turned away from her before she opened her eyes, the anger from earlier still clinging its sharp teeth into his gut. But he could feel her stare burning into his skin and he suddenly flushed hot with it.

He pulled off his shirt, glad of his brother’s lifelong enchantment which meant that the buttons around his wings automatically unbuttoned themselves, and started to tug off his pants.

Usually he wore loose pants and a tunic to bed but he was too drunk to care. There was also a part of him that wanted to make Nesta uneasy, just so she knew how fucking terrible he’d felt all day watching Helion flirt with her.

A fresh swell of anger burst through him and he found himself speaking before he could check himself. “Why are you here?”

He dared to turn to her then. He expected her fury and it was there, but underneath it was hurt. It made him feel like a prize prick.

Nesta sat up and his eyes automatically flicked to her cleavage that was on show in her low neck nightgown - he couldn’t help it - and she hissed at him through the long, golden hair that hung down her face in waves before she tucked it behind an ear.

She studied him for a moment. “You left.”

“Yes,” he said, but the way he said it he may as well have said, and what?

“You didn’t say goodbye,” she embellished.

Cassian made his shrug loose but he knew he wasn’t fooling her. “You were busy with Helion.”

Nesta snorted. “When has that ever stopped you from interrupting before?”

“You looked like you we’re enjoying the attention.”

Even in the darkness, Cassian saw Nesta’s eyes flash bright with anger, but she only said, “Yet here I am.”

Cassian clenched his jaw. He knew she hadn’t bedded Helion - he’d have scented it on her the moment he had stepped into his room. Hell, he’d have probably known prior to that. He’d seen flashes of roiling flesh and the sounds of panted moans from her before, even if it was over a year ago. He couldn’t go through that again. His heart couldn’t take it.

His eyes hardened at the thought and he stared her down. She looked right back, unflinching, as he told her with bite, “I don’t care. Fuck who you want.”

Lies, lies, lies. And Nesta - his unflappable hellcat - flinched. Her answering snarl was soft and menacing. He could tell he wasn’t far off from being blasted with that power of hers. He could feel the pressure building.

“You’re being a territorial bat,” she hissed, a finger stabbing through the air between them. Silver sparked like stars before fading into nothing.

Tossing his clothes onto the armchair beside the bed, Cassian made his voice distant and uncaring, even as it dropped an octave, “I left you with Helion to do what you wished. You have no idea how territorial I could have been.”

“You growled multiple times,” Nesta pointed out coldly.

“I can’t help it,” he snapped.

Closing his eyes, he willed the red hot blood in his veins to cool, but Nesta had already fought right back.

“I’d have thought the General of the Night Court Armies would have a little more self-control,” she bit out with equal fervour.

But that’s where she was wrong. Cassian had never exercised such restraint, apart from when he had bedded her himself and stopped her from touching him. Even though he had never wanted anybody more. He still didn’t.

The thought sobered him and Cassian looked away, his jaw working again.

“I did the least amount of damage, considering,” he gritted out.

Nesta snorted. “Considering what? Helion’s a shameless flirt who thinks he can bed whoever he likes. He’s just moved on to me now he can’t have you, Mor and Azriel. You should know better.”

It was a loaded comment that Cassian ignored. It was the next statement that hurt more than anything.

“I’m not yours.”

The truthful agony of it swept over him and suddenly it was hard to breathe.

“I know that, trust me,” he said hoarsely.

But now Nesta had started she seemed to have no intention of stopping. “You’re jealous.”

Cassian made a strangled noise in the back of his throat and fisted his hands at his sides. He strode towards the dresser - anything to not look at her - and pulled out some loose pants.

“Of course I’m jealous. Everyone knows I’m jealous. I’m fucking transparent when it comes to you.

“He showed me the library. Not his bedroom.”

“He may as well have,” Cassian muttered, pulling his hair out of its tie. He ran his fingers through his knotted hair, not wincing as they snagged on the tangles. “I could tell what he wanted from you.”

“You are being insufferable,” Nesta hissed.

Cassian threw the tie at the armoire. It missed and landed on the floor. Somehow his inability to do something so simple had his temper breaking completely.

He didn’t dare look at her as he snapped, “Then go away. I didn’t ask you to come here. I’ve drunk too much and I want to go to bed.”

Her answer was defiant. “No.”

Cassian’s nostrils flared at her refusal but he just disappeared into the bathroom to wash up. When he came back she was still there, already curled up towards the middle of the mattress.

He turned the bathroom light out so he didn’t have to look at her, even though his heart leapt that she was still here with him.

They lay in the dark for a long while, neither of them sleeping. Usually just having Nesta beside him, her heartbeat wrapped around his, was enough for him to surrender to sleep, but today it didn’t help - not with their disagreement still hanging thickly in the air around them.

An hour must have passed until Nesta’s hand brushed his. Refusing to react, Cassian clenched his jaw but then Nesta wound her fingers through his own and he felt his resolve melt slightly at the touch.

“I don’t want Helion,” Nesta said, her voice close to his ear.

“Fine.”

“Stop being angry with me.”

“I’m not angry with you.”

“You seem it.”

“I’m not,” he assured her, even though he struggled to quell the green-eyed monster that was raging inside of him.

“Helion is showing me the education system. I can’t be rude.”

Cassian snort was rude. “That’s never stopped you before, sweetheart.”

“This is important to me. I want to learn and improve the camp schools. I thought you out of everyone would understand that.”

His fingers itched to pull her flush against him but he didn’t. He couldn’t speak or form words because he felt selfish and horrible for caring about Helion’s flirting when Nesta was trying to do good. But his love for her was too fierce now to hide. Just the thought of her even being interested in another male had him wanting to rend apart the sky.

And if Cassian was being honest, he was terrified that she would reject him and everything good that had ever happened to him would come to an end.

So he didn’t say anything.

It took him a long time to get to sleep.

[wardenannie]

Just friends

In the beginning they aren’t friends at all. Not even remotely. 

Hange is too excitable for Levi, and Levin too severe for Hange. Though the scientist attempts to feign cordiality between the two of them, Levi does nothing to conceal his disdain. It is only after Erwin calls them into his office and speaks to them sternly that they finally come to a silent agreement with one another. 

Just friends begins with a sort of truce. An understanding between them that perhaps they aren't so different, or they are, but they can learn to overcome those differences for the sake of synergy in the field.

That is what Erwin wants, after all. 

They still poke fun, but it's more lighthearted than it was before. More playful. There is a gentleness to it, a light. It brings some levity to those brutal, bloody days that linger in the backs of their minds. They actually begin to take some small comfort in each other’s presence, though neither of them are willing to admit it allowed, and most certainly not to each other. 

When just friends becomes staying up and drinking tea and whisky into the budding hours of dawn, neither of them can say. But more than once they are the only two left standing among a field of drunken allies.

They look at one another, and even Levi, dead sober, sipping his tea, cannot help but smirk.

When Hange passes out in his lap he reluctantly allows the contact, that is until they drool on him, at which point he surreptitiously slips a pillow beneath their cheek. 

He pretends not to watch them sleep, only for a moment.  

He doesn’t find their peaceful expression enchanting. He doesn’t secretly find them handsome with their russet hair covering their eyes, mingling with their lashes. He pushes it out of their face anyways. 

They’re just friends.

Just friends becomes casual touches. Passing smiles (or affectionate scowls in Levi’s case). It becomes easy nights spent in silent company. Nights spent in Hange’s lab, or lounging in the library. It becomes silent understanding, a fleeting consciousness of what the other is about to say or do. 

Just friends becomes a sort of casual, platonic intimacy that has their comrades whispering and casting them knowing glances. But they simply ignore it. They are just friends after all. 

When just friends begins to entail tending one another's wounds is about two years after their first meeting. Hange limps to his quarters, calf a bloody tattered mess from a nasty three-meter bite.

"I can't go to the infirmary," they explain. “If Erwin finds out about this he’ll bench me.” 

He scolds them as he treats the wound with iodine and wraps it in clean gauze. 

“You need to be more careful, four-eyes. It could have taken your leg clean off,” he tries to disguise the way his hands shake as he cleans each of the shallow gouges which hug Hange’s calf in a gory half moon. 

They hiss and wince as dirt and debris are washed away, leaving only ragged flesh which will surely scar. 

Levi pretends that their obvious discomfort doesn’t perturb him, but it does. Another new development. He cares for them, loathe as he is to admit it. 

Just friends becomes sharing a bed with surprising swiftness after that. 

It is after a particularly gory expedition beyond Wall Maria. Many of their comrades fall, never to rise again. The blood runs in rivers over the fallow earth, bones crunch between massive, inhuman teeth. And the screams. The screams bite into both of them; leaching into their very cores and clinging there like poison; breeding doubt, fear. 

The knock comes on Levi’s door well past midnight. That he is still awake is a coincidence he cares not to consider too closely.  

He knows its Hange without asking. Who else would be so bold as to disturb Captain Ackerman’s beauty sleep? 

“Come in?” He’s reading a book by candlelight and doesn’t so much as glance up as Hange Zoe enters the room, shutting the door carefully behind themself. 

“Levi...” 

He glances over the top of his book; stare cool but not unkind, “Why are you bothering me so late at night, shitty-glasses? You should be asleep.” 

Hange lingers at the threshold, clad in loose sleep clothing. Levi pretends he can’t see their nipples poking through the gauzy fabric of their shirt, “I could say the same about you.” 

A long, pained silence passes between the two of them. A quiet sort of understanding. 

Slowly, Levi lowers his book into his lap. Then he peels back the covers, scooting over and making room for Hange beside him. 

“Bad dreams?” He asks, already knowing the answer he will receive.

Hange crosses the room and sits on the edge of the bed, they rest their elbows on their knees, steepling their fingers in front of their face, “Yeah. You?”

Levi swallows thickly and nods. 

���Can I...” Hange turns their face away, glancing out the window in a paltry attempt to disguise their flush, “Can I stay here tonight?” 

Levi doesn’t so much as hesitate, “Yes.” 

Tentatively, Hange lowers themself into the mattress, stealing away one of Levi’s pillows. They don’t touch. They don’t speak a word once Hange has settled in beside Levi. The captain simply reaches over his comrade and snuffs out the candle, cloaking them in darkness. 

And so just friends becomes best friends in a night. 

The territory of best friends is accompanied by a new found respect for one another. A respect that runs deeper than that which had already existed between them. Occasionally Levi will glance up at Hange to find that their eyes are already on him. Usually they are smiling. But on rare occasions their expression is more contemplative; thoughtful and distant. 

Levi tries not to think about it too deeply. What it could mean. What they could be thinking while they stare at him with such intensity. 

Then the meaning of just friends who happen to be best friends shifts again during a hard fought battle beyond the suffocating succor of the Walls. 

Levi jerks awake, head throbbing, mouth dry and tasting of blood. The world around him is blurry at first, and he struggles to recall where he is until it slowly comes into focus. 

There are arms around him, supporting his aching head and clutching at his hand. A voice calls out to him, low and panicked. 

“Levi? Oh thank fuck, Levi,” it’s Hange. Levi can’t quite remember where he is, but he could place Hange’s voice anywhere. Slowly, they come into focus over him. Their head is ringed with sunlight that shines from behind them, creating the illusion of a halo around them as they look down on him. 

It strikes him how perfect they are. Gorgeous. Handsome. Hawkish nose and wide, bright eyes, olive skin and russet hair. Imperfectly perfect. 

Their wine-colored eyes shine with worry. They touch his face, tenderly, “Can you speak?” 

“Yeah,” Levi rasps, and it finally comes back to him. A titan had emerged as if from nowhere and swept him out of the sky, knocking him head first into the cold, hard ground. Hange saved his life, felling the thing at the last moment before it took the Captain into its jaws. 

For a moment it is enough to stun him. But isn’t that what best friends do for one another? 

It is that night in Levi’s tent that they go from being just friends who are also best friends, to best friends who kiss in the dark. 

Hange refuses to be parted from him. Insisting that he needs supervision due to his possible concussion. Levi doesn’t argue as they help him to his sleeping bag. Outside the stars hold their silent, glittering vigil, and the moon hangs low and radiant in the sky, bleeding through the canvas of the tent just enough to allow for some visibility. 

“Try to stay awake,” Hange says softly, sitting beside him. They touch his forehead, pushing his hair away from his eyes. Their touch lingers, and Levi cannot help but notice the way their eyes seem to glimmer in the dark. 

When they lean forward and press their lips to his it is chaste, delicate and fleeting. But when they try to pull away he cups the back of their neck and tugs them back to him, sitting up slightly so he can kiss them from an improved angle. 

“Just friends,” he rasps between hurried kisses. Hange occupies all of his senses, from their earthy scent to the sharp taste of them on his tongue. He loves it. He would gladly drown himself in Hange Zoe. 

Hange nods, curling into his side, kissing him again, “Just friends blowing off steam.” 

Just friends, best friends, best friends who kiss in the dark; they carry on that way for months. Stealing kisses in those quiet moments between meetings and missions. 

It isn’t long before hands begin to roam. Curious fingers searching over one another’s bodies as they chase each other’s tongues over eager, sliding lips. But they hold back. They resist that primordial drive for sex with everything they have. Because how can they be just friends if they’re having sex? How could they cross that line without jeopardizing everything they have built with one another? 

But the others know. Mike, Nanaba, Moblit, even Erwin... they all know. The teasing glances have turned to those of legitimate concern, the passing comments have turned into genuine appeals for common sense. And so they are met with the second reason to remain just friends, best friends, friends who kiss in the dark; the life of a soldier is not one which can accommodate love. Real unconditional love. Duty will always take precedent. 

Then comes the night where kissing in the dark is not longer enough. 

It was never really enough, but things finally reach a boiling point. 

Hange is in their lab, working well past midnight when Levi stumbles in. He is clad in nothing but a pair of loose fitting sleep pants, slate eyes wild. He is flushed, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. 

A nightmare. He’s had a nightmare. Hange bleeding in his arms. Dying. Not from a wound inflicted by a titan but from a series of bullet holes bored into their middle. Weeping blood, crimson welling over his fingers despite the pressure he applied. 

The image clings to the backs of his eyes, boring its way into his soul, his heart, his mind and consciousness. Hange; killed by another human, not a titan, but a man. Suddenly nowhere feels safe or sacred. He wants to take Hange into his arms and flee. Flee until the world cannot catch them. 

Kisses in the dark could never fix this. It feels like nothing could fix this. 

“Levi?” Hange turns away from their work, a collection of bubbling beakers resting on the wooden countertop. Their expression is one of concern as he crosses the room and pulls them roughly into his arms. 

“I can’t fucking do this anymore,” He snarls, and then he kisses them roughly, pushing the small of their back into the hard edge of the counter. The beakers rattle and several spill over with the force of his body against theirs. 

Hange moans into his mouth, melting into him, arms winding around the back of his neck as he helps them up and onto the counter. They shift backward, experiment forgotten, and suddenly they are anything but just friends. 

Levi buries himself in Hange with little foreplay or preamble, but they are already wet and pliant, ready for him. 

The sex is fast and desperate. Hange buries their face against Levi’s neck, feeling the erratic pace of his pulse as he delves into them. 

“I love you,” they whimper. Because they do. With everything they have they love their Captain. Levi Ackerman. Humanity’s strongest. Theirs.

Levi fucks them harder for it. Because it can’t be. They’re just friends. Best friends. Friends who kiss in the dark and make frantic love at the thought of losing one another. Just friends.

Just friends. 

Just friends. 

Levi comes inside of Hange with a broken sob. Their fingers are in his hair, lips on his as they follow him over the edge. They’re crying, too. Tears mingle between their mouths as they work one another up again. 

They dress, but only long enough to reach Levi’s quarters, at which point they peel away their clothing and fall into bed together. All of it is wordless, silent knowing passes between them. Each anticipates the other’s movements and react with according passion. 

They make love again. Slower, softer. Hange’s soft cries fill up the room, punctuated by Levi’s muffled grunts as he buries his own noises in their damp skin. 

“This is perfect,” Hange whispers, nails raking down Levi’s switching back. And then they say it again, “I love you.” 

Wetness floods between them as Hange comes first. Levi rocks them through it, body wracked with pleasure, mind wracked with confusion, fear of what will happen come sunrise, when this new, precious thing between them has been exposed to the light of day. 

But is it really so new? Has he not always loved Hange Zoe? Have they not occupied his every waking thought for years as he refused to acknowledge his own attractions?

He looks down as he fucks into them, finds their wine-colored gaze is locked on his face. They reach up and cup his cheek, soft moans slipping past their lips as his hips stutter and he finishes inside of them for the second time that night. 

“Hange,” The way he speaks their name is ragged, like a desperate prayer on his lips. He kisses them. He never wants to stop kissing them. 

“I love you,” Hange breathes between kisses. They roll onto their sides, their faces illuminated by a shaft of silvery moonlight through the window. “You don’t have to say it back but I can’t be just friends anymore, Levi. It’s driving me crazy.” 

They kiss him, “Seeing you.”

Again, “Touching you.” 

A third time, slower, wet, lingering, “But not being with you.” 

Levi’s hands are on their hips, caressing up their sides. He feels the goosebumps he leaves in his wake, and knows he shares a similar physiological reaction to Hange’s own touch. 

But they’re just friends. Just friends, best friends, friends who kiss in the dark, friends who make desperate love and whisper heartfelt confessions under cover of night. Just friends. 

Hange touches his cheek, “Say something, please, Levi.” 

His lips part, but he struggles to find the words to express his emotions. Nothing makes sense in that moment. The world has tilted on its axis, everything is changed, and yet nothing is. 

“We were never just friends, shitty-glasses,” he says, finally. His eyes are glassy, gaze turned up to peer out the window at the night sky. The stars show their brilliant faces, glittering, and Levi wonders if perhaps their fate is written somewhere in that serene darkness. 

“We’ll keep it a secret for as long as we can,” Hange reassures him, settling there head against his chest, where they can hear his heart beating steady and strong. They run their fingers over his sternum, between his pecs and down the expanse of his abdomen, toying with the trail of downy hairs beneath his navel. 

“They already know,” Levi sighed, and he presses his mouth to the crown of Hange’s head. His eyes flutter shut, savoring the earthy sent of his lover. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

You’re all that matters, he tacitly implies. 

“They know that we were never just friends.” He pulls the sheets over their sweat damp bodies. Cum stains the fitted sheet. 

“They don’t approve,” Hange says softly, half asleep, lulled by Levi’s steady breaths.

“I don’t give a shit what they think. We deserve this.” Happiness. Even if it was fleeting. Even if one of them died come dawn, it would have all been worth it; to have been loved, to have known love. 

They drift to sleep in each other’s arms. 

Just friends, who became best friends, which in turn because friends who kiss in the dark, then lovers. Two people in love.

But they are soldiers, and they both know that whatever time they might have is borrowed. So they treasure it as best they can. 

[angstyaches]

If you're still taking prompts- Felix and Elliott haven't seen each other all day, and Elliott's been gassy all day, so when he finally gets to talk to Felix that night, Felix is really angry for some reason but E hasn't been feeling good so Felix takes care of him cause he feels bad and Elliott is just in so much pain 💔 Sorry English isn't my first language -🍫

Thank you for this request, it’s just lovely, and I’ve been so excited to get it finished for you! I couldn’t think of anything that would result in Felix being just the right amount of angry for this scenario, so he’s more annoyed than angry.

Also, we’re just going to ignore the fact that having someone heavier than you lie on your chest restricts your breathing, because Elliott deserves this, damn it.

CW: burping, stomach and chest pains, stomach noises, mention of vampire drinking (animal) blood, slight over-indulgence, slight mention of coming out a prolonged bout of nausea and lack of appetite.

___

“So,” Felix said, stretching his legs out across the bed and then crossing them at the knees. He was gradually working away on one of his blood lollipops, every so often sticking it in his mouth and having to speak around it. “Ugh, I was driving home, doing the speed limit, naturally.”

“Naturally,” Elliott agreed, resisting a sarcastic grin. Felix was the only driver he knew who didn’t violate speed limits every so often, not even by a couple of kilometres-per-hour.

“I suppose it was peak commuting time,” Felix went on. “Which was my own fault for leaving late. I was basically asking for trouble.”

As he listened, Elliott crossed the room to pick up the hairbrush from his bedside locker. He only had to bend a couple of degrees to reach it, but something about the shift in his posture made something shift inside him, too. He squeezed his lips together as he straightened, swallowing a clump of pressure that tried to escape up his throat. There was a distressed growl deep in his stomach as a result, which he managed to cover up by clearing his throat.

“Coming through town the usual way, past the supermarket and over the bridge,” Felix continued, unaware that any of this was happening.

“Mmhmm.” Elliott nodded in encouragement, going back into the ensuite bathroom and standing in front of the sink. His partner was still visible in the mirror, the door wide open so they could still hear each other.

Elliott pressed a fist to his mouth, releasing a short, grumbling belch.

“And then some idiot with a – I don’t know, a Chrysler or something? I mean, who needs a car that big, anyway? Anyway, they pulled out of the petrol station right in front of me, and I had to slam on the brakes!” Felix sighed deeply, letting his hands fall onto his chest. “I mean, I wasn’t going fast, but what if I had been? What if I'd had a cake on the front seat? It would've gone flying and been destroyed! Gosh, I thought I was going to have a heart attack, I was so mad.”

Elliott inhaled softly through his lips, looking into the mirror as he started tugging the brush through his hair. It was almost down to his elbows these days, and he couldn’t decide it he liked it, or if he wanted to cut it back to shoulder-length again.

He braced himself against a hiccup, realising he hadn’t responded to Felix in a while. He swallowed thickly, trying to recall the last thing he’d heard his partner say. “Did – did you honk the horn at them..?”

“I – well, no, I didn’t,” Felix said, sitting up on his elbows to glare at Elliott in the mirror. “I was mad, but come on, Elli. It was a built-up area, and it was after seven. What if there’d been a baby sleeping somewhere nearby?”

“Right…” Elliott murmured, as if he’d never, ever blown the horn of a car in a built-up area before.

“Anyway,” Felix grunted, flopping back down.

There was a distinct, bubbling sound coming from the upper part of Elliott’s abdomen now. He tried pushing his fingers gently into his stomach, just below his ribs, but he immediately hated the sensation and planted his hands next to the sink. That wasn’t going to work, but the discomfort was becoming so bad that he could feel it draining his energy and – more notably – his patience.

And the last thing he wanted, after a long day without seeing one another, was to snap at Felix over something as silly as a stomach ache.

“I’m just, you know… What the hell’s wrong with people?” Felix continued from the bed. “If they just opened their eyes for a moment, they might actually see something…”

He was still muttering – mostly to himself, at this point – about irresponsible drivers when Elliott closed the bathroom door and walked across the room. He approached the bed from the wrong side, which snagged Felix’s attention. The mint-haired boy looked up at Elliott, as though waiting for him to ask for something. His hands were folded neatly across his middle, his head on the pillow, his legs outstretched and uncrossed.

A pang of pure, untainted affection fluttered in Elliott's chest; as least, he was almost sure it was affection and not just a swell of pressure from his stomach. He half-smiled, watching Felix's expression soften.

“Are – are you alright, darling?”

Without a word in response, Elliott knelt at the end of the bed near Felix’s feet. He spread his hands and placed them either side of Felix’s waist, pressing into the blanket and the mattress.

“Oh,” Felix laughed, a slight blush instantly rushing into his cheeks. “Are we…? Oh, okay.” With a confused look on his face, he lifted his hands from his chest, making space for Elliott to lay down on him, head pressed between Felix’s neck and shoulder.

Felix dragged his fingers gently over the back of Elliott’s neck, pulling heavy locks of his hair together and scooping them to one side. “Darling, what’s brought this on?”

Elliott shrugged lightly. He didn’t really know himself, but the simplest answer seemed to be a fitting one. “You looked comfortable.”

“I see…. Well, you can rest your full weight on me,” Felix offered, his voice a little shaky. “I’m small, but I can take it.”

The tension gradually seeped out of Elliott’s muscles as he sank a little harder into Felix. He felt another shift in his stomach contents, which made a light sheen of sweat break out on the back of his neck. He swallowed, counter-productively, before dragging a heavy fist to his mouth.

The rumbling pressure got caught in the back of his throat, circling nauseatingly for a moment before slipping backwards. A tightness in his chest made him frown. His stomach rumbled so hard that it reverberated through his ribcage and gurgled in the back of his throat.

“Oh, gosh, I felt that,” Felix said, sliding on hand from Elliott’s neck towards his upper back. “Is everything okay in there?”

With his fist still waiting by his mouth, Elliott gave a quick nod. “My stomach’s slightly upset, but it’s nothing to worry about. Are you sure I’m not hurting you?”

“Yes, I’m sure! What’s wrong with your stomach?”

“Nothing…” Elliott winced as another bubble moved through his belly, catching in his oesophagus. “Well, I may have over-indulged slightly today, for the first time since my symptoms cleared up.”

“Ah, okay.” Felix’s tone was a little lighter now, as his hand smoothed over the plane of flesh between Elliott’s shoulder blades. “Obviously, I’m not relieved that you’re in pain, but it is comforting to know you’re getting back to your old self.”

“A bloodthirsty bastard?”

Felix stifled a laugh, And Elliott half-smiled to himself before a cramp rolled through his gut, once again coming to a sharp head just beneath his sternum. He parted his lips, hoping to coax some of the air up, but it gurgled all the way back down to his stomach, making the unhappy organ churn and roll.

A sigh of frustration left his mouth instead. Felix gave his back a slightly more urgent pat, hoping to move things along.

“Ugh,” Elliott groaned, resting his hand on Felix’s shoulder as he waited. “You can keep talking, boo. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“No, no,” Felix half-laughed, gently scratching his fingernails against the back of Elliott’s neck again. “That was just ranting. Taking care of you is so much more important.”

Elliott pressed his lips together. The pressure in his chest was beginning to build up again. The rumbling seemed to start behind his belly button and creep its way up behind his sternum.

Felix spread his hand over Elliott’s back again, no doubt feeling every vibration going through his organs and ribs.

Only when the pressure reached his throat, did it move with any kind of urgency. Elliott barely had time to form a fist again, pressing it to his mouth and releasing the burp as steadily as he could. It went on for about five seconds, making much less noise than it had when it had been rumbling around in his chest. Elliott frowned, knowing that there was no way that was the end of it.

“Sorry,” Elliott mumbled, turning his neck to burrow into Felix’s neck. He knew he was acting much shier than he usually would, but he’d already been feeling a bit embarrassed about climbing on top of Felix in the first place.

“Nothing to apologise for.” Felix tilted his head and rubbed his cheek against the top of Elliott’s head.

Elliott nuzzled even further into Felix’s neck as another belch bubbled up, determined not to direct it into his partner’s face. A low groan followed it, a sound that pleading for an end to this ordeal; although, if he was being honest, the pains twisting his stomach and tightening his chest were already fading. Felix’s hand continued to smooth over his back, fingertips occasionally tracing the shape of his spine and shoulder blades, and Elliott wasn’t about to ask him to stop anytime soon.

[simpingfortheages]

//OH BABY BUT I DO//

Billie Dean Howard x Fem Reader

( SMUT, BEGGING,ANGST story with a twist just read it )

Love is everylasting. It's fun, because that's what they tell us in story books.

Billie stumbled through the doorway of our house. She held her pair of black heels loosely on her index acryliced finger. " Hey baby" she shouted into the empty room," in the kitchen " I replied. I heard her bare feet running along the board floor to find me,not before she threw her heels into the corner. I was currently popping open a bottle of champagne and pouring it into 2 wine glasses. Billie came struting into the kitchen with a big smile plastered on her beautiful face. As she made her way towards me I held one of the glasses out to her." Here Billie babe to new beginnings" I cheered. With no hestiation Billie took the glass and clicked it with mine. We simultaneously downed the glasses within seconds, " so how was your day?"I asked. "It was good,we got a lot done and we also finished two and a half episodes" she said with delight. "That's so good Bil" I commented. We sat in silence,except for the fact that Billie was tapping her newly yellow acryliced nails on the surface of the counter. She was impatient but i wasn't going to make the first move. With a loud exasperated huff,Billie practically launged herself towards me,capturing her lips on mine. The kiss becamed heated very quickly, her hands became entangled in my hair while mine gripped her waist,pulling her closer.

Billie pulled her tan skirt over her thighs and did a little jump to wrap her long toned legs round my waist. I held her up by her thighs, I could have felt how needy she was because her core was now pressed against the thin material of my shirt. I smirked into the kiss. I made my way up carefully up the stairs, as i did so, I broke the kiss to see where I was going. A needy whined left Billie's plump lips, while I ascended the stairs, Billie left love bites on my neck. It didn't take me long to reach our bedroom. I roughly threw her on her bed. I stopped to take in the sight of her. Her chest rising and falling, her hair was a mess but a mess in a sexy manner. She was currently trying to unbutton her shirt and kick off her stockings along with her skirt. I chuckle left my lips at her struggle. I crawled up the bed and helped her undress. Billie now left in only her matching black underwear and bra,she pulled me down onto her form. My blood boiled at the fact that she still wanted me, the audacity the medium had. I forcefully swallowed my emotions and proceeded to removed her remaining articles of clothing. I slowly kissed her neck leaving marks on hers to match mine, she was so caught up in the moment she didn't seem to mind. Although i know after it all she will be frantic to cover the marks for tomorrow's episode . Billie never did like to show off the marks I left on her, she always complained about it being "unprofessional". I respected her choice up until tonight that is. I was determined to mark every part of her skin, to remind her of me. Billie Dean was never one to be but she was Oh so desperate and needy tonight. I couldn't deny her of what she really wanted. I made quick work of adorning her neck and chest area. I latched my soft lips on to her nipples and bite down, which caused a whimper and moan to rip through Billie's throath. I knew she liked it rough.

I kissed lower and lower along her bikini line until I reached her core. I pried open her legs to admire the mess I made. It really was a shame. I delicately traced my fingers over the constellation freckles that decorated her flawless skin. Billie really was a piece artwork, one that never ceases to draw everyone's attention. She was impatient. Very impatient, but I liked it that way. It seemed like she wanted me, needed me . "Y/N please touch me" Billie begged,she stared up at me with eyes filled with hope,longing and lust. I took my finger and ran it along her slit,collecting her slick. Billie's back arched off the bed into a pretty bow. The heels of her feet were digging into the mattress,as she pushed her hips up against my fingers that teased her entrance. I dipped the tips of my fingers into her dripping core,but not all the way in like she wanted, "beg me Billie" I demanded. Her head twisting against the pillow while her hands held a vice grip onto the covers. She managed to open her mouth," please fuck me y/n don't tease me any longer please" she said desperately. I plunged my fingers deep into her warm core, pulling in and pushing out of her slowly. The feeling of her velvet walls hugging my fingers were euphoric. It was a perfect fit, " You want more don't you Billie?" I teased. Billie couldn't find her voice, instead she nodded her head vigrously. Her once perfectly curls were now unrecognizable as the back of her head rubbed on the pillow. "Use your words Bil, I'm not a spirit who can read your mind" I teased further more, coaxing her to speak. "More y/N plea-please more" she spoke as her small voice cracked. I added a third finger into her tight cunt. Billie threw her head back onto the pillow and immediately grabbed my wrists. Mewls and moans filled the already thick atmosphere. I never stopped moving my hands. My movements only got faster and faster as her nails dug into my wrist, she tried so very hard to keep herself grounded but failed in doing do. I curled my fingers to reach her sweet spot,as I did so I pressed my thumb against her neglected clit. The combination of Billie being stretched by my fingers and the attention on her clit was too much for her to handle. " Y/N I'm- I'm gonna-" her words were cut off as waves of pleasure washed over her. The medium's eyes rolled back to the back of her head as her mouth was left open ,as her high ended a loud moan filled the room. I slowed pulled my fingers out but i didn't stop rubbing her until she calmed down.

After a few seconds when Billie calmed down. I flopped on the side on her on the bed causing her naked body to jiggle with my movements. I leaned over the bed and grabbed a couple of tissues to wipe my hands clean of Billie. This didn't go unnoticed by the medium as a look for perplexion made its was onto her face. How cute she looked. Usually I would tell her how good she tasted or I would let her taste herself. However she didn't question the act. She propped herself on her side and began running her fingers through my hair. All the while, raking her nails along my scalp. That was the best feeling. It wasn't long until her hand started to drift towards my waist band,most likely to return the favour.

Out of reflex I grabbed her wrist at a halt. " Bil i know" was all I said, Billie sat upon the bed, now alert of my words. " Y/N what's are you talking about?" She questioned with her eyebrows furrowed. " I know about you and" I swallowed thickly. I wanted to yell at her but i didn't " about you and your new assistant" I spat out the last line. Billie's eyes were wide as ever. The look of horror dawned upon her face. That expression on her face was the frosting on the cake. Her complexion was purely white. The red blush that crept upon her face from our love making was now gone. "Why Billie?" I asked with emotion heavy in my voice. "Baby i- I didn't mean too"she stuttered. "Didn't mean too?? Billie you slept with her on our bed. I fucking know because if you tried to listen to me last week. I told you I recently installed cameras. You know since you are a well known celeb now" my voice raised in its level causing her to jump. "How could you Bil? I thought you loved me" I choked out. "Baby but i do" she tried to comfort me but i knew the truth. "It was a dumb mistaken, I wasn't thinking straight Y/N please" she begged as she grabbed onto the front of my shirt to not make me move away. The vice grip she had on me made nail indents into my chest. I didn't care about it, the pain of my breaking heart had hurt more. "No Billie, a mistake is bumping into someone, what you did was for spite. You were thinking straight. And I am 100% sure you would have continued if I never found out. " the dam of tears didn't break. I felt numb.Billie Dean Howard broke me. " Y/N No that's not true. I don't love anyone else but You. I love you alone." She sobbed. Tears cascaded down her cheekbones. In another time I would be the one to wipe those tears away and place kisses upon her wet skin, but that was another time. " fuck off Bilie, don't sell me bullshit. You think i am dumb? I know you have slept with her more. Not only at home. IN OUR HOME! But I am sure you have at work. Don't you think i notice the different perfumes ?? Or the fact that your makeup is well applied,almost too applied when you come home." I raged.

My heart hurt, the veins in my head were throbbing at this point. "Y/N listen to me, I wasn't thinking, it was only twice I swear and I promise you I will never ever do anything like that to hurt you." At this point I was getting off the bed, trying to get the hell away from her as possible. Billie followed me off the bed trying to grab onto me again. I shrugged her off and threw some pajamas towards her body to get dressed. " you're barely home anymore Billie,you didn't even see that all my clothes are gone. You don't have time for me. It's not like I am asking you to choose between work or me. I am just saying make time for me" I continued to rant as I paced up and down the carpet." I will baby I promise. I will fire her and get someone else" she tried to resonant with me as she sloppily tried to dress herself. "Billie. I don't care what you do anymore...." I whispered. The dam cracked,tears slowly started to trickle down my face. Billie ran up to me and wrapped her arms around me, plastering kisses all over my face, mumbling, apologies. I gently took her arms and unwrapped them from me. She cried out my name as I did so. " And to think I was going to propose and wanted to start a family with you" Billie stayed silent. Her eyes were waterfalls at this point. Her bottom lip never stopped wobbling. " please Y/N I know I fucked up but I promise you I will never do that again." She recited over and over. " like how you promised to love me?"I snapped. " BUT I DO LOVE YOU" the medium screamed "I am sorry Billie but I cannot do this anymore" I whimpered. " No no y/n you are not going to leave me!!" Billie demanded and she stomped her foot on the floor like a toddler. I ran a hand through my hair to try and neaten my appearance as i fixed my clothes infront the mirror. " And to think Billie that you of all people couldn't recognise the demon living inside you all along...". A gasp escaped her throath and added to the tension in the room. " you- you don't mean that" she cried silently. I slowly walked up to her and gently tucked a curl behind her ears, " oh but baby I do". Billie locked her eyes on me as tears fell from her face. "I'll get you back one day Y/N just you see, I love you and I mean it." She hiccupped. "Maybe...maybe not,but right now Billie I cannot be with you." I cried out. She slowly nodded her head and wiped her face with the back of her hands. "One day we will be a family y/n I swear on it and we Will be together again as we should" Billie promised. Unfortunately I believed her words, I left Billie standing in a room that was once ours. I fought the urge to run back and comfort her, but she broke my heart. I deserved better, yet part of me couldn't help but want her to be true to her words. I still love Billie deep down and always will ..after all she is Billie Dean Howard, medium to the stars... she's my star.

[valdomarx]

Inseparably Entwined

Stargate Atlantis, McKay/Sheppard, bound together, 2k, rated M

-

Elizabeth pinches the bridge of her nose. "What did you two do now?"

"We. Uhh. We found another Ancient device."

"And, instead of cataloguing it for a hazmat team to investigate, as per protocol, you decided to play with it?"

“To investigate it,” Rodney corrects. “Like the competent professionals we are.” John punches him in the arm.

Elizabeth's lips purse into a thin line. "And then you accidentally activated it?"

John winces. "And then we accidentally activated it."

"Of course you did. And its effects are…?"

"Non lethal," Rodney says, a bit too quickly. 

Elizabeth mumbles something that might be don't bet on it under her breath. "Non lethal, but…?"

John shifts his weight and stares at a point behind her head. "McKay and I have to stay within ten feet of each other at all times or we both pass out."

For a moment there is stunned silence. Then the sound of Elizabeth's bark of laughter fills the office and spills out into the gate room.

-

Carson waves a hand. “You’re both going to be fine. It looks like the bond is only temporary.”

Rodney fidgets. “How temporary?”

“I couldn’t say. A few days, maybe a few weeks?”

“Weeks?” John chokes out. “Listen, doc, we need you to fix this -”

Carson cuts him off. “I’m sorry, son, but I’ve got more important things on my plate right now.” He looks pointedly around the infirmary which is admittedly full of marines being treated for combat injuries, Athosians coming in for checkups, and troops of medical staff organizing vaccinations for off-world groups.

John deflates. “So we’re stuck with each other?”

Carson pats him on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

Rodney looks up at that. “Hey!”

-

“Absolutely not.” John recoils in horror. “We are not sleeping in your room.”

“But all my stuff is in there.”

“Your room is disgusting. If you think I’m sleeping on the floor among half-finished bags of cheetos and bits of drones, you are sorely mistaken. It’s a wonder you haven’t attracted the Lantean equivalent of rats.”

“I’ll have you know the bags of cheetos are almost entirely finished.”

“Rodney -”

“Alright! We’ll sleep in your oh-so-tidy quarters. Military spick and span, no snacks or useful bits of machinery in sight.” Rodney rounds on him, waving a finger in his face. “But if I get an inspired idea in the middle of the night and can’t find a circuit board to test it on, know that it’s your stubbornness that is robbing humanity of another of my great concepts.”

John hides a smile. “I’ll have to find a way to live with myself.”

-

When the doors to John’s quarters slide open, Rodney’s jaw drops.

“Hey! How come you have a bigger bed than me?”

John shoots him a smug look. “I upgraded after the last attack. Benefits of command.” It was one of the very few benefits of command he was willing to take advantage of.

“Oh, that’s how it is, hmm? We’re living in a military dictatorship here, with all the best perks and boons given to the highest ranking officers? Never mind that it’s the scientists who do all the actual work, who discover new technology and solve the problems, oh no, let’s give out the biggest and comfiest beds to the military guys, as if that’s fair -”

“McKay!” he interrupts. Rodney looks like he’s having fun, gearing up for a good rant, but John honestly can’t take it right now. “Go to sleep, I’m begging you.”

Rodney huffs, clearly saving that rant away for another time. “Fine.”

-

John is woken up for the third time that night by Rodney fidgeting on the floor and sighing dramatically. 

“What is it, McKay?” His voice is testy. He doesn’t love having his sleep interrupted.

“I can’t get comfortable. A sleeping bag on the floor is bad for my back.”

John stares at the ceiling and counts to ten. He looks at the ample space next to him and calculates his best odds of getting some sleep tonight. “Come here and share the bed with me then.”

Rodney eyes his mattress dubiously. “I’ll have you know I require a very firm mattress, for spinal support, not that I’d expect you to understand -”

“For god’s sake, get in the bed. It has to be better than the floor.”

A moment’s pause. “Yeah, alright.”

It’s been a long time since John slept next to someone. His rare hookups have mostly involved sneaking out in the middle of the night, and even when he was married they slept in separate beds most of the time. 

Sleeping next to Rodney is, surprisingly, not awful though. Sure, he steals all the covers and moves around all the time and, of course, he snores, but John finds that he strangely doesn’t mind. 

-

John has seen Rodney under fire, seen him at his best, seen him happy and sad and angry and bored. But he’s never seen him first thing in the morning before.

“Whazzat?” Rodney’s eyes barely open. His expression is one of overriding confusion. “Whzz going on?”

John stifles a smile at his resident genius. He’s been up for an hour already, showered, done his laundry, and cleaned his space. He’s also decided to play nice and share his secret.

“Here,” he says, and hands a mug of freshly brewed coffee to Rodney. “Just don’t tell anyone I snuck coffee and a kettle into my personal effects, or the scientists will raid us in the middle of the night.”

“Coffee!” Rodney is still radiating confusion, but he hones in on the cup of coffee like a laser. A blissful smile passes over his face. “You brought me coffee.”

“I did.”

“You’re wonderful.” Rodney takes the coffee and cradles it like something precious and rare.

-

After a day and a half doing paperwork in the lab because they can't go off-world, John has reached the end of his rope. 

"I'm going to the gym," he snaps. "You can either come with me or we'll both end up in the infirmary when I try to go there alone."

Rodney glares and is clearly about to start arguing when Zelenka elbows him. He sighs dramatically but agrees that they can take an hour away. 

While they're both in the gym and John needs a sparring partner, he figures he might as well teach Rodney some self defense. The idea of Rodney needing to defend himself makes something unpleasant twist in his gut, but he pushes that away and argues they should make the most of this time and do something productive. To his surprise, Rodney agrees, and they run through some basic drills and defensive maneuvers. 

Rodney is bad at this, frankly. He's all elbows and poor coordination, but he's trying. 

John is feeling magnanimous, and he knows the value of a bit of positive reinforcement. So when Rodney steps forward and attempts a clumsy hip throw, he leans in and lets himself be thrown. 

Rodney looks astonished that actually worked, before delightedly pouncing on John and pinning him to the floor.

"Got you," he says, face pink and grinning wickedly. 

John's heart picks up, somehow distracted by Rodney's heavy weight on him and the sharp brightness of his smile. He swallows thickly. 

"I guess you do."

-

“Geez, Sheppard, how long does it take to have a shower?” Rodney’s voice carries through the bathroom door. “I want to run some simulations on the city’s power systems with Zelenka.”

John’s cheeks flush and he tries to tune Rodney out. “Just give me a minute, will you?”

“What are you doing in there anyway, jerking off?”

John goes very, very still.

“Oh my god, you are!”

“Shut up, McKay.”

“No, no, don’t let me stop you. You go ahead and enjoy yourself.”

“I hate you.”

“I’m not judging. It’s perfectly natural. And hey, maybe it’ll help you chill the fuck out for once.”

John scowls, gives up, and shoves his dick back in his pants. “I will kill you in your sleep.”

-

John is used to having to drag McKay around after him on missions, so in some ways their new situation isn’t entirely unfamiliar. 

Tac vests are useful for that; full of hand holds he can grab when he needs McKay to get down under cover or to stop him from wandering off to look at some shiny piece of technology. When Rodney is in uniform, he can grab the collar of his shirt, though Rodney complains that it creases the fabric horribly.

So John finds a compromise. When he has stuff to do and Rodney is dawdling, he grabs his hand and steers him in the right direction. After a while it becomes second nature - whenever there’s danger or something important is happening, he takes Rodney’s hand and they set off to deal with it together.

If any of the marines find it funny to see their commander holding hands with the head of science during a crisis, none of them dares to mention it.

-

John is carefully, carefully tending to his hair. Just the right amount of product, to spike it just the right amount to look effortless. He tweaks and ruffles, tugs and shapes. This is an art form which requires judicious maintenance. 

“Oh, for the love of -” Rodney grabs the tub of hair wax out of his hands. “We’ll be here all day. Let me.”

He steps forward and slides his hands into John’s hair, ruffling it vigorously. His fingers are firm on John’s scalp and he tugs just on the right side of too hard.

Rodney steps back and surveys his work. “That’ll do.”

John glances in the mirror and sees a chaotic, wild mess. He looks like he’s run a marathon, with his pink cheeks and mussed hair, or like he’s rolled out of bed after a night of passion.

“Rodney! I can’t go out like this.”

“Oh, shut up. You look smoking hot, like you always do.”

That’s… What? What does that mean? Why the hell would Rodney say that?

“Come on,” Rodney is saying, already on his way out the door. John has to run after him, cheeks still flushed.

-

They find a rhythm.

John gets up first and puts the coffee on while he showers. He’s given up on trying to tidy Rodney’s side of the room, so he lets the piles of circuit boards and screwdrivers sprout up where they will. Once Rodney is up they get breakfast at the mess, then he spends the morning doing paperwork and writing reports in the science lab while Rodney works. They meet Teyla and Ronon for lunch, then he spends the afternoon drilling the marines while Rodney taps away at a laptop. Evenings, they bicker over which movies to watch in their quarters and throw popcorn at each other.

Elizabeth even agrees to let them travel to the mainland, and then to go on low-stakes reconnaissance missions. 

It’s… comfortable, he realizes. It works.

That thought makes something twist in his chest, and he doesn’t know why.

-

“Morning, sunshine.” John pours Rodney a cup of coffee.

“Mmm.” Rodney is still sleep-rumpled, but he struggles upright and smiles softly. “Morning.”

As he hands over the coffee, Rodney catches his wrist and holds him there. He looks down at the mug, then back up at John. John notices in an abstract way that his eyes are very, very blue.

“Thanks,” Rodney says, and pecks him on the lips.

Right. Okay. That’s a thing. That’s a thing they’re doing now.

John is still processing as Rodney gets up and heads for the shower. “I’ve got a meeting with Miko this morning,” he says over his shoulder, normal as ever, “so we might have to push our gym session back by half an hour -”

He keeps chattering away while John sits on the bed and has a minor crisis. Did they… do they… but that would mean…

By the time Rodney is out of the shower, John has made a decision. 

He doesn’t allow himself to overthink it, he just takes Rodney’s face in his hands and kisses him deeply. Rodney’s arms tighten around his waist and his tongue slips into his mouth and oh. Oh yes. That’s good.

John’s a little breathless, a little dizzy. “Are we really doing this?” he asks.

Rodney’s face scrunches up in amusement. “I think we’ve been doing this for weeks.”

Yeah. Okay. That’s a fair point.

The tense feeling that’s been winding around his chest uncoils, and in its place is nothing but blooming warmth.

“I guess we have.”

-

EPILOGUE

“Carson.” Elizabeth looks up from where she’s frowning at a tablet and gives him a polite nod. “Thanks for stopping by.”

“Any time,” Carson says, and means it. “What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping to get an update on the situation with John and Rodney. We really do need them to get back on full duty soon.”

“Ahh.” He’s been carefully avoiding that topic. He takes a breath. “To be honest with you, the bond between them wore off days ago. They could go their separate ways now and be none the worse for it.”

Elizabeth’s eyebrows fly upward toward her hairline. “And you haven’t told them yet?”

“See, at first they were in the infirmary every day asking for an update. But they haven’t been in for over a week and -”

“And?”

“They seem…” he pauses, contemplating his choice of words, “... happy.”

Elizabeth’s mouth twitches into a quickly suppressed smile. “That may be, but you have a professional responsibility.”

“Aye, you’re right. I’ll go and tell them the effects of the device have run their course.”

“Well…” Elizabeth looks thoughtful. “You have a professional responsibility to give them accurate medical information when they ask for it.”

Carson sees where she’s going with this. “And until then?”

Elizabeth shrugs and gives him a sly look. “They do seem happy.”

[nebulous-frog]

Rest Now

Relationships: JonMartin

Summary: Jon and Martin arrive at the safehouse 

Word Count: 1682

Link to AO3   Fics Masterlist

It was thunderstorming when they finally arrived, pulling up the near-forgotten path in a beat-up old car. On the drive, they hadn’t talked much- what was there to say? Since their last real conversation, neither had done anything that they particularly wanted to remember, and the inevitable discussion of what they’d just experienced was bound to be far too intense and emotional for their unexpected journey. Now, though, roughly twisting the key in the lock stuck from disuse, it was possible they’d have a chance for it to happen. For months- years, even- of emotions that should’ve been brought up ages ago.

Jon held back a grimace at the thought, awkwardly shuffling inside with his small bag and fumbling for a light switch. Part of him was desperate to get it over with, to finally air out all the dirty laundry and start afresh, to just be there for Martin in the ways he deserved. But another part, simultaneously logical and cowardly, was arguing that it was late, they’d had a long day, they were both exhausted. The conversation they needed to have was simply too much to cover while they were in such a state, he told himself.

“Jon?” Martin asked, voice quiet and tired.

Jon turned toward him expectantly, but he didn’t offer anything more, just gestured vaguely forward, and Jon realized he was still in the entryway.

“Oh, right, sorry,” Jon mumbled, stepping fully into the little cabin.

There were only a few rooms. The kitchen was tiny up against one side and shared the main open area with the living room and a small dining table. Directly across from the front door was a short hallway with a door on either side- presumably a bedroom and a bathroom.

Jon cleared his throat in time with a rumble of thunder.

“There’s some firewood over in that corner. I’ll get us a fire going,” he told Martin softly. “We should be able to get the radiator to start with a little work, but it’ll be easier tomorrow with more light.”

Martin nodded silently and walked slowly towards the hallway, slipping into the room on the left while Jon got busy with the firewood. He’d just coaxed some kindling into a flame when Martin came back in, hands wringing together. Jon recognized it as Martin’s anxious tell, which sent contradictory feelings through his system. On the one hand, Jon hated the thought that Martin was uncomfortable, but on the other he was just relieved that any feeling at all had pushed through the residual numbness of the Lonely.

“There’s, um, only the one bed,” Martin explained.

“Ah.” Jon glanced at the rickety loveseat sat in front of the fireplace, but Martin spoke again before he could make any suggestions.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch, Jon,” he said sternly, his protective caretaker instincts shining through. “I, uh,” he swallowed, already nervous again, “I was thinking we should share anyway, since it’ll be so cold and the bed actually is fairly big and- well- I just…” he trailed off for a moment, not looking at Jon, then seemed to steel himself even as he shrunk in on himself further and kept his eyes trained on the floor between them. “I don’t think I should really be alone right now.” The end of his sentence was almost a whisper, embarrassment and vulnerability clear in the blush high on his cheeks.

It’d been a long time since Jon had seen him blush. It was even prettier than he remembered, and he hoped he could see it a lot more in the coming days, ideally as the result of more positive emotions. Maybe Jon could even cause it himself… he chastised himself for the thought, trying to focus back on the present and caring for Martin now.

“Alright,” Jon agreed. He turned his head just enough to check that the fire was taking, then moved to stand from the floor. His legs were still stiff from the drive, so it took a bit more effort than he was expecting.

Martin appeared at his side immediately, offering an arm for stability. Jon gratefully took it until he could get his cane properly situated in his other hand. He reluctantly let go, briefly looking up at Martin’s face and catching a hint of an expression he didn’t know how to interpret before Martin’s face returned to a more neutral place- although the blush was still intense.

“I don’t know about you,” Jon started, “but sleep sounds wonderful right now.”

Martin nodded. “I put sheets on the bed already.”

Together, they walked back to the bedroom. Jon changed into his light pajamas in the bathroom while Martin took the bedroom. A few minutes later, they stood side by side facing the bed.

“Do you have a preference for which side...?” Jon asked. He was determinedly ignoring the part of his mind reminding him of his feelings for the man he was about to share a bed with.

It wasn’t that he worried his feelings were unrequited- he was quite certain that Martin felt the same, having Seen each other so completely in the Lonely. But they’d barely spoken in months, and so much had happened since then. So much had happened even in the last few days. It was a big step to now share a bed without even discussing their boundaries, and Jon didn’t want to be too much too fast.

“No preference,” Martin answered, pulling Jon from his thoughts.

“Boundaries,” he blurted. He felt his cheeks heat furiously, his discomfort and exhaustion sending him stumbling towards this conversation unprepared.

Martin blinked at him, obviously confused. “We… we only have two pillows? We can’t really make one between us-”

“No, no,” Jon continued, eyes darting from the bed to Martin to the floor and back as he fiddled with the black ring on his middle finger. He’d come this far, and it really was important to discuss anyway, so he pushed through his awkwardness. “I meant, well. Metaphorical boundaries for physical touch, in- in this situation. I, um. I don’t mind however close we end up.”

Martin’s own cheeks flushed to match how Jon’s felt. “Oh. I, uh. I don’t mind either?”

Jon nodded, now staring hard at the bed. “Right. We- we should probably have a more, er, detailed discussion. At some point. I think we’re on a, uh. Similar page, so to speak,” he glanced nervously up at Martin’s face, “but it would be good to- well, to clarify. Sooner than later. But I think we’re far too exhausted to be very coherent about it now.”

Martin’s cheeks were still a bright red as he squeaked out a “Yeah, that- that sounds good, Jon.”

Jon nodded once more. “Right.” He walked stiffly towards the bed, pulling back the covers and sliding in.

Martin cautiously joined him on the other side, and they both laid there for a minute, flat on their backs, staring at the ceiling in total silence. Both men were as close to the edge of the mattress as possible, leaving a canyon between them, bodies rigid.

After a few tense minutes of being afraid to even move, Jon huffed. “This is ridiculous,” he grumbled, more to himself than anything else, and he rolled over on his side to face Martin. They’d both just established that neither of them would mind being closer together, so he might as well get comfortable. He still gave Martin some space, but he’d at least crossed into their invisible barrier and hopefully broke some of the awkward tension.

In return, Martin turned just his head to look back at Jon. He swallowed thickly, eyes flitting across Jon’s face in the dark.

“You know,” Martin began in hushed tones, turning to look back at the ceiling, “the Lonely has a real talent for clinging to its victims.” He held up a hand as Jon started to interject. “It’s just. You could be surrounded by people and still feel alone, maybe even lonelier than when you’re actually alone.” He turned to Jon again, a heartbreakingly fond yet sad expression just visible to Jon in the darkness. He smiled sadly. “You can lie in bed with the man you love and still feel Lonely.”

A pained sound punched out of Jon. His firm, official declaration of his feelings needed to wait for the morning, as he insisted they take more space and grandeur for Martin than a moment like this, but he couldn’t leave that unanswered. He scooted even closer to Martin, minimizing the gap and resting a hand on Martin’s arm.

“The man I love,” he said, pulling Martin’s hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss, soft as can be, on his knuckles, “may sometimes feel lonely and discouraged,” he flipped Martin’s hand over and pressed another kiss to his palm, “but he must know,” one more kiss, now to the inside of Martin’s wrist, “he will never be alone again.” Jon stared directly into Martin’s eyes, kissing the back of his hand again and using his thumb to lightly rub over the spot.

Martin’s lips had parted slightly in a silent gasp, his eyebrows drawn together in a complicated combination of emotions that Jon couldn’t decipher. He took in a deep, shuddering breath. “Come here?” he whispered, raising his free arm in invitation.

Jon lifted himself slightly and settled half on top of Martin, his face buried in Martin’s neck. He wrapped his arms around Martin’s stomach and couldn’t help the content sigh he let out, relaxing fully as Martin’s arms came up around him. He revelled in the closeness and the softness of Martin under him and around him.

“Thank you,” Martin whispered. He pressed his lips to the top of Jon’s head. “Thank you.”

Jon shook his head and squeezed tighter. “Anything,” he whispered into Martin’s neck. “Anything.”

They held each other tightly, just breathing together, for a long moment, feeling as though finally something had gone right. They rested in the reassurance of each other’s presence, eventually drifting off into blissfully dreamless sleep.

[omg-imagine]

Forget Me Not (Part 12/15)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Reader

Summary: After you wake up from a coma and realize that your memories from the last five years have been erased, Keanu works to bring back what you have lost.

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: Angst, language

A/N: Kinda nervous posting again since it’s been a while, but we’re winding down to the end of this story with only three more parts to go (2 chapters + an epilogue). As always, feedback is appreciated. Thanks for sticking around, and I hope you enjoy!

Part 11

Home.

You are home. It’s supposed to be home.

But it wasn’t. To you, it couldn’t be. 

This place feels too far from home, too foreign. You had no memories of it, no recollection of the safety and security it offers. Not even the faintest remembrance of the laughter, smiles, and tears; the fondness and the sadness these four walls have witnessed over the years. 

You can’t call it home. You don’t know where home is, and you’re not sure you have one anymore. 

Not after leaving him behind.

It’s cold and dark when you first wake, sleep weighing heavily in your eyes. A pair of curtains block out the sun from filtering into the room, leaving you to wonder if you had slept through half the day. With a yawn, you stretch, the bed underneath creaking as your body fully rouses from yet another night of fitful slumber. Almost a month back in New York, and it doesn’t make sense to keep blaming your lack of energy on the time difference.

The ache is still ever-present. The pain caused by the void in your heart remains, sharply throbbing in your chest with its refusal to go away. Two heartbreaks, two betrayals, occurring five years apart, but it feels as though not much time has passed in-between. 

It hurts to ponder about it, that evening when your seemingly perfect little world came crashing down. Hiding behind rose-tinted glasses, you were unknowingly tricked, fully caught up in a well-crafted illusion. His illusion. Love has blinded you to the sad reality, and in the end, it left you a shattered mess, a hollow shell of your former self.

You doubt you’ll ever be whole again.

Forcing yourself out from under the covers, you reach for your phone on the nightstand to check the time before scrolling through your notifications. Nothing was of interest to you, fortunately; you didn’t have the energy to respond to those you suddenly abandoned. Friends who cared about you but realized you were never close to them. Not in the way it used to be.

As you skimmed over the new texts and emails, you then came across his now unsaved number. The moment you stepped on the plane, you deleted his contact from your phone and blocked him. Yet the last messages he sent to you were still there and haven’t been read since, though you already knew what they could entail—

I’m sorry.

It was never my intention to hurt you.

Please give me another chance.

Let me fix this.

Just come back, Y/N. Come back home.

Home. There was that damn word again. You were beginning to loathe it, even more so knowing that whenever you think of home, you wind up thinking of him.

The last time you saw him was the morning after the storm. Booking a one-way ticket back to the east coast, you then spent the early hours packing as many clothes that would fit in a single suitcase. Tears had long since dried up, having none left as you headed down the stairs, ignoring the look he gave you from afar.

He was dressed in the outfit he had on the night prior; his hair disheveled, eyes bloodshot, and it was quite obvious he endured no sleep. Your resolve nearly crumbles as your gazes connect, bodies close enough that he could reach out the slightest bit, and he’d be holding your hand in the palm of his. 

Fighting the urge, you didn’t cave in. You couldn’t allow yourself to fall for it—for him. 

No, never again.

As expected, he followed you out of the house, remaining quiet as he watched the cab driver load your luggage in the trunk. You paid him no attention when he approached the vehicle once you climbed in, wanting nothing more than to escape this nightmare. With nowhere else to go and no one to turn to, you decided it was best to leave California, not that you belonged there anyway.

It played out like a scene from a movie—the taxi pulling out of the driveway slowly as the raindrops started to fall. Hearing him call out your name, his voice cracking with each syllable, made you hesitate for a beat. Perhaps you could forgive him, you had thought in that split-second. Forgive and forget; let what happened in the past stay in the past. 

But even if you did, the pain’s still there, and it was overpowering. This pain resulting from his deception had been too consuming, too unbearable to move on.

You told the driver to hurry as you couldn’t afford to miss your flight.

The atmosphere in the car was fraught with grim silence. As the house sequestered in the hills vanishes in the rearview mirror, you knew you were running away from it all. You couldn’t stand being here in LA, where every turn, every corner, and every street reminds you of a life that wasn’t truly yours. 

As idyllic it once was, you wanted no part of it anymore. Instead, you sought for familiarity, the life you used to have, the one you could only remember. 

What you thought was your real home.

Unable to hold it in any longer, you had broken down in the backseat, never feeling more alone than you did at that moment.

You wish you could forget, but it’s not that easy. It’s never easy. Memories of him linger in your mind, still tragically fresh as they haunt you day in and day out. Closing your eyes, you could see him wearing this smile that used to make your stomach flutter. You came to love his smile the same way you had loved him wholly. 

Now? Seeing it was a stab to the heart—a reminder of how he took advantage of your condition, your vulnerability. Of every lie you were fed. That smile, the one you previously hoped to wake up to for the rest of your life, had been an act, a facade. 

Everything had been a facade.

A sudden knock on the door startles you, and you clicked off the phone screen before announcing to whoever that they could come in. Your mother Nancy enters soon after, her face displaying concern when she realizes you had just woken up. She’s silent as she walks towards the window and then pushes the curtains aside, the sunlight outside immediately washing over the room. 

Briefly, you squint to adjust to the brightness, a confirmation that it was past noon already—another wasted day.

“Hey, darling,” she speaks softly as she moves to sit on the mattress beside you. “How are you doing?”

There’s no point in lying, but as much as you greatly appreciated her caringness, you didn’t want to burden her with your problems. They were yours to deal with and yours alone. 

“Better.” And that, you were. Just a week ago, you finally stopped crying yourself to sleep. “I might even go out tomorrow and look for a job. Can’t keep freeloading under your roof, right?”

You release a half-chuckle, a small attempt to lighten up the mood. It was comforting when your mother cracks a smile in response.

“Oh, hush. You’re always welcome to stay as long as you need to,” she assures, a loving warmth radiating from her tone. 

Lips pressing together, you sense that she has another thing to address. “What’s wrong?”

Nancy pauses to take a breath, shoulders rising and falling. For some reason, you’re on edge, finding yourself bracing for what was to come.

“Have you spoken to Keanu lately?”

Upon hearing his name, you swallowed away the lump in your throat. After telling your parents what had transpired, it stirred up various emotions—mainly anger from your father, sorrow from your mom. Their hearts sank as you recounted the story, tears blurring your eyes that you couldn’t see their faces. It was a good thing, however; you probably wouldn’t have reached the end.

Since then, they’ve refrained from speaking of him and to him. He’s called the house on a few occasions but could never get past the automated answering machine. Pictures of the two of you hanging on the walls were taken down shortly after the revelation, and you were unsure of who had done it. 

Your parents still couldn’t believe he was capable of such a thing. He had played them the same way you were, twisting the truth and omitting facts. Painting himself in a way that made them think allowing you to stay with him was the best decision when just months before he treated you as if you didn’t matter. 

As if he didn’t love you.

“No.” Curt, you had nothing else to say. 

“He’s a persistent one, I’ll tell you that. Left another message last night,” Nancy comments, feeling her stare as you fiddled with the hands in your lap. The next time she speaks, it’s slow and controlled. She’s careful with her words, wary of how you would react to what she has to say. “Hon, the last time you were here, you told me something. Something that I probably should have mentioned the day you woke up in the hospital.”

You tense, eyes flickering up to hers. “What is it?”

She sighs deeply, her smile fleeting and replaced by a taut frown. “I knew you and Keanu were having… problems. Not the full story, but enough that told me you’ve been unhappy for a while.”

“W-Why didn’t you bring this up then?”

“Because the second I saw him in your hospital room, I could see how much he loves you. How scared he was at the thought of nearly losing you—”

“Pfft, sure he was,” you scoff at the statement in disbelief. “What he did—you don’t do that to someone you love. You don’t lie to them, betray them. Hell, if you had given me a heads up earlier, then it would have saved me all this trouble.”

“Y/N—”

“Don’t you get it? He’s an actor. Of course, he’s good at playing pretend. Got us all believing that things were all sunshine and rainbows. He fucked up and fucked up even more by lying. I’ve always had a bad track record in relationships, so I shouldn’t have been too surprised.”

Tension hangs thickly in the air, an apology murmured at the end of a passing second. You didn’t mean to snap at your mother, to let the anger and betrayal consume you that you began taking it out on others although unwillingly. 

But you were just too goddamn hurt. Every day, the memories are suffocating you despite constantly wishing and pleading for them to disappear. That life, the one you had with Keanu, no longer exists, and yet you were still holding onto the frayed remains of it, not ready to move on—to let go. 

You grieve. You grieve and mourn for the recent past, the happiness and love you experienced in the time you were left unaware. Never have you felt so complete, so content, and much at ease. You had turned a blind eye to the signs, to the small inklings of doubt brewing inside because you thought that there was no way you could get something else as close to this.

Perhaps you were both to blame after all.

“I thought he was different,” you whisper, sorrow flowing from your words. “I thought he was the one. The man I’d settle down with, marry, and then maybe someday, be the father of my kids. We’d build an entire life together, a family, a future. The kind of life where I could look back on it fifty years from now when we’re old and gray and not regret a single thing.”

Feeling your mother’s hand come on top of yours with a light squeeze, you fought off the tears forcing their way from your eyes. You swore you would never shed a tear for Keanu ever again, but you are crumbling from within. The weak walls you put up are now tumbling down, leaving you even more vulnerable than before. 

“I want to hate him. I want him to feel my pain and suffer through it, knowing that he’s the reason why. But I can’t. Somehow, I just can’t.”

“It’s because you still love him. No matter how much it hurts, you’re still in love with him,” Nancy adds solemnly, and you nod shakily. “You’re healing, dear. So far, all you’ve done is put on a bandaid, but it doesn’t mean the wound closes up immediately. It’ll burn, it’ll bleed, and it’ll ache, and right now, that’s what you’re feeling; the pain of a fresh open wound.”

“Make the pain stop,” you mumbled incoherently as you lean against your mom’s side, wet cheeks pressed to her shoulder. “It has to stop.”

“And it will,” she promises, listening to your soft and tired cries. “It’ll take time for the wound to heal, but eventually, it will. Until then, life continues, and you would have to as well. You don’t have to go all-in right away, but don’t let this heartbreak hinder you from living, sweetie. You’re strong, and I believe you will feel that same happiness again, in one form or another. But you won’t find it unless you go out and look for it.”

For the first time in what seemed like a while, you felt something other than loss and despair. It creeps into you slowly, half-expecting a cold, crushing weight to fall heavily on your chest rather than the warmth and light it is. But as quickly as it came, the sensation subsides, a wave of loneliness, emptiness filling the vacant space surrounding your heart.

A shuddering breath released, you then reflect upon what your mother said about time and how time heals all wounds. You wonder how much time is needed until you can finally break free from the remnants of the past and breathe again. Could be days, weeks, or even months more, but it’s right there, waiting for you on the horizon. 

You may not have a place to call home, but what you do have is time.

---

Seconds turn into minutes; minutes turn into hours. The sun sets, the moon rises; bright, blues skies bleed into a fiery red before dimming to an inky darkness. The world spins on its axis as people wake, move, then sleep, and the cycle begins all over again.

Two weeks have come and gone, and life pushes onward. You could tell by the scenery outside where the season of fall has taken charge of the Northeast. Days are shorter, with nights stretching out longer as the year fades into winter. Time was flying by at a brisk pace. Very soon, a blanket of snow will cover the ground you walk on, reminding you to take a step back and admire the natural beauty of mid-November.

The crispness of the late afternoon air is refreshing as it fills your lungs, a welcome change from the hazy summer heat. Leaves that were once lively shades of green are now painted in deep hues of amber and burgundy, and they crunch beneath your boots with each leisure step down the earthy path. The nearby lake is as pristine as ever, sparkling freely underneath the rays of the ochre sun as it waits for the impending frost.

Wandering about outdoors for hours now, you were lost in your stream of thoughts. You honestly felt better, not entirely mended, but just enough that you can step out of the house and explore the quaint little town. A picturesque place, it was a perfect settlement for your retired parents where everyone knew everybody; their faces, names, the street they lived on. Boilding down to more personal details such as knowing the pets they owned, which book club they’re a part of, and any recent travels. 

When the townsfolk saw you, you sensed the feeling of familiarity. Those you passed by in the streets waved at you, and though you couldn’t exactly recall your relationship with them, it made you smile. Recently, old friends and family in the area had begun reaching out after hearing you were back. You never gave them the full explanation, only revealing that things in California did not work out, and you figured it was best to leave. 

Was it a permanent decision? Most likely. Life here is simpler, quieter. You enjoyed the peacefulness, favoring the calm atmosphere of this town much over the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles. It gave you space to think, to focus, to breathe. To reacquaint with yourself, rebuild who you are as a person by taking this journey of self-discovery. 

It’s the brand new start you desperately wanted, needed. An opportunity to find your place in this world without the past holding you back. Without the shadow of the woman you once were looming over you. And if your memories don’t ever return, which deep down, you hope they never would, you would be fine with it. 

You were tired of being stuck searching pieces of the past. You had to live.

Trekking up the gravel road leading to your parents’ home, a black car sits on top of the hill, one that you did not recognize. Perplexed, you approached the house with hesitant steps, dragging your feet through the pile of dead and dry leaves. There was a moment of panic when you noticed a man sitting on the front porch steps, hands clasped on his knees as he hung his head low, a curtain of dark hair masking his identity.

But you don’t need to think twice, for you already know who it is.

“Keanu?”

His name slipping out of your mouth feels different now. Gone is the affectionate tone that it was usually spoken in. It held no meaning, void of any warmth or tenderness. Keanu, the name is bitter on your tongue, a poison that could cause you to spiral down yet again, and saying it out loud brought upon a rage that swirls through your veins.

How dare he show up here unannounced?

As you take your breaths, one… two… three... and out, Keanu straightens his posture and meets your stern glare. Slowly, he gets up, the expression on his face hard to read. But aside from that, he looked worse for wear. The bags underneath his eyes were dark and prominent, the beard on his chin was unruly and untamed. He appears gaunt and exhausted, as if he hasn’t slept a wink ever since you walked out of the door and out of his life.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You’re the first to break the thick silence, a testament of your bravery and strength of some sort. Brows furrowing and teeth gritting in anger, it contrasts with Keanu’s lax demeanor as he steps closer. “No, stay back. You have no right to be here right now.”

“Y/N, please...” He speaks calmly, each and every one of his movements measured. “I’m not here to fight—”

“I have nothing to say to you,” you seethed, shaking your head as you stormed past him and towards the door. Tears brew in your cloudy eyes, a sign of how much he still affected you. Seeing him again after all this time only proved that the wound he had inflicted bleeds to this day.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Keanu quickly trails from behind, his voice dripping with utter desperation. “Please, just… give me a chance to talk. All you have to do is listen, and I promise you won’t ever have to see me again.”

The seriousness in his timbre causes you to halt in your tracks. Swallowing dryly, you turn around, sad, tired eyes reaching his guilt-filled ones. Keanu stands before you with a face written in despair, making him barely recognizable. The way he’s staring at you as if he’s hopeless and in pure anguish is unsettling, and you almost pitied him for it. 

“Y/N…” He pleads softly, defeatedly. “Hear me out, please.”

You wrestled between your options, half apathetic, half curious of what Keanu had to say. Unspoken words on the tip of his tongue, he mutely begs for you to relent, and if this is all it takes for him to leave you alone, leave you for good, then so be it.

“Ten minutes,” you muttered, low enough that he barely catches it at first. Crossing your arms against your chest, the gentle autumn wind rustling through the trees pierces the silent air as you observe Keanu staggering forward, a hand rubbing at the nape of his neck. 

“I’m sorry,” he begins, gazing at you with his searching brown eyes. “I-I know saying it a thousand times won’t make a difference, but I really am sorry. What I did before and after the accident was inexcusable and selfish. I hurt you, and I will never forgive myself that. Don’t expect you to do so, either. You probably hate my guts right now, and flying out here might be a mistake, but I needed to talk to you in person. To say goodbye one last time.”

Brushing his hair back, Keanu then pads over to the trunk of the car, and all you can do is wait for him to come back. It doesn’t take long, but he makes two trips to unload two boxes, setting each of them down in the space separating you two. He instantly notices the confusion etched across your features, burying his hands in his coat pocket with an exhale.

“Are those—”

“All the things you left behind,” Keanu finishes feebly. “Thought you would want them back.”

Stunned, a mirthless chuckle escapes your throat. “You didn’t have to do this. Those aren’t my things anyway.”

“But they are—”

“They’re not mine,” you cut him off with a weary gaze. “Keanu, I’ve said this before; I’m not the woman you fell in love with. Not anymore. Look, throughout those months we spent together, I tried to fit into this life everyone told me I had. A life that’s far from what I was used to. God, it feels like a dream being her. So confident, happy, and successful. Waking up from the coma, of course, I would want that. I had just gotten out of a terrible relationship which left me broken and unworthy of anything and anyone. Then you showed me the love I thought I didn’t deserve, and it kept me from realizing that it was all too good to be true.”

Eyes faltering to the ground, your fingers fumbled with the hem of your sweater, ultimately distracting yourself from the tears threatening to fall. “The truth is, I didn’t know you. You were, are, a stranger to me. You had done things behind my back, hid details that would have been a deal-breaker, but you didn’t care. I’ve thought about it a lot lately; would I have stayed if you told me from the very beginning. I wasn’t sure if I was madder at you kissing someone else, knowing how much it would hurt me, or the fact that you lied to fix this—us.”

There is a moment of silence that weighs over everything. The wind stops blowing; the leaves are motionless. Time seems to slow around you and Keanu as he waits for your next words. Words that you are still searching for since you hadn’t prepared to voice those thoughts out loud. They all came rushing, flooding like a broken dam, too overwhelming to keep at bay. 

“Which one is it?” Keanu probes delicately, equally afraid of which answer you’re going to give.

“Neither,” you revealed, surprisingly. “I’m angrier at myself for falling too fast; for being the naive little girl who let herself be fooled, who refused to listen to her instincts even though she knew they were usually right.”

You see Keanu open his mouth to speak, but you weren’t done. “I always believed this accident was a curse. It erased years worth of memories that, at this point, I’ll never get back. But now, I see the good that came out of it. Our fights, our arguments, they were all signs that our relationship was falling apart, but I couldn’t let go of it—of you. I held onto us thinking the bad will just phase out eventually when in reality, I couldn’t bear giving up on you and this life we shared.”

Another pause. “Huh, funny. Looking at it, the same thing happened all over again.”

With that said, you felt relieved, somewhat lighter. Despite previous inclinations, you didn’t shout or yell at Keanu. Nor did you discuss to the fullest extent of the suffering you’ve endured. Strangely, it was nearly therapeutic admitting all of that to him, to yourself. For months, you had been unable to let go and accept the truth, allowing fear and doubt to control your actions. 

But that was then, and this is now. 

And now, it was time for you to be free.

“Guess this is it,” Keanu sighs dejectedly. He didn’t come here to win you back, knowing there’s nothing that he could do or say to repair the damage. Like you, he’s letting go, letting this be the closure he needs, and you need as well. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“Yeah,” you agreed quietly, “Guess this is goodbye.”

Before you could leave his sight to spare Keanu the awkwardness, he holds up a finger, signaling you to wait a second. Swiftly, he goes to retrieve something that’s lying on the front seat, something that you’ve spent countless hours flipping through. He then reluctantly passes it over to you, and you’re unsure what to do with it.

“Your pictures,” he points out, though you were already aware. “I’m not trying to be an asshole or anything by giving this, but this book is yours. Keep it, burn it, do whatever seems right to you. But I want you to know, to remember, that I did love you. I still do, and these photos are proof of it, even if you can’t bring yourself to believe that I’m telling the truth. You deserve love and to be loved, Y/N. More than anything in the universe. I fucked up my chance to be the one to tell you that every day, but it doesn’t mean the next person you fall for will.”

“Ke…” your voice suddenly breaks with emotion, uncertain of what to add after his statement. It’s because you still love him. No matter how much it hurts, you’re still in love with him, your mother’s earlier words echo in your mind, ringing true in your heart. Even after everything, a piece of you still loved Keanu, and saying goodbye to him more painful than you anticipated.

As you stand frozen, Keanu inches nearer until he’s by your feet, the palm of his hand coming to rest on your cheek. He strokes your face with a tender caress before tilting your chin upwards to meet his gaze, brushing his thumb along your lower lip gently. You allow him to have this moment, to hold you and study you for a final time, commit you to memory as this would be the last. 

Eyes fluttering shut, you feel him press a soft kiss on your forehead, the warmth of it immediately spreading throughout your body before he slowly pulls away.

“Take care of yourself, Y/N,” Keanu says, opening the driver’s side door of his rental. You look at each other once more and see the subtle, hopeful smile he shoots your way. “And don’t be afraid to love again.”

You watch as he starts driving away, opting to wait until the car is finally out of view before releasing the breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

In your hands is a keepsake of your memories. A collection of captured moments that you had cherished so dearly. But things are different now; mistakes were made, words were said, people have grown apart. You found no reason to linger in the past when there’s nothing left to salvage. 

Nothing left to do but heal.

The warmth of Keanu’s kiss eventually disappears, the world around you unpausing, continuing as it was before. You stay standing in place, glancing back and forth between the book you clutched on tightly and the boxes laying on the ground. 

Yet in the quietude, the wind still blows. The leaves still fall, and the earth still spins.

Time resumes, bit by bit; passing for life to move forward— 

For you to move on.

Part 13

Tags: @penwieldingdreamer​ @fanficsrusz​ @toomanystoriessolittletime​ @awessomness @meetmeinthematinee​ @ringa-starr​ @ficsnroses​ @iworshipkeanureeves​ @keandrews​ @greenmanalishi​ @feminine-machinegun​ @thehumanistsdiary​ @lilyette​​ @rdjloverxxx @flaminasteroid @danceoftwowolves @ravenpuff02 @wheretheriversrunintothesea​​ @breakthenight​​ @allie1804-fan​​ @partypoison00​​

[babylooneytoonz]

Its A Sunday!

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem! Reader

Written for @writeroutoftime 's 1k challenge. Hope you enjoy reading this, Rita.💛💛

Summary: Based on the prompt, “Would it be alright if I borrowed your sweater? It smells like you.” and how it feels like spending a Sunday with your "Super Soldier Boyfriend".

Warning: tooth rotting fluff

[My Masterlist]

You woke up to the chirping of the birds, your eyes fluttering open, only for you to clench them shut once again. Your hand reached out, grabbing a pillow that had been kicked off to the other end of your bed, right where your feet were, by your boyfriend. Groaning, you pressed your face into the pillow, wondering how it was possible for the super soldier next to you to be in such a deep slumber, even though you had been wiggling around in bed.

Yes, right, it was a Sunday, which meant that you got a lot more time to spend with your Captain, but Steve never missed an early morning run. His alarm would go up at 6 every Sunday. He would kiss you at the back of your head and you would groan in annoyance, your sleep having been disturbed. This was like your little routine for Sunday to begin the day.

Shaking your thoughts away, you pressed your face into the pillow, having rolled on your front now, staying like that for a few seconds until you got frustrated and rolled back again. There was no way you could go back to sleep again.

Just then, a heavy hand came to rest on your waist, until you were pulled from the spot you lay, into the super soldier's arms. You opened your eyes, blinking at him, to see his sleep filled eyes looking at you with a faint smile on his face.

"Good morning, doll," he chuckled, his voice raspy, and low, sending shivers down your spine.

"Mornin," you began, but before you could even wish him a good morning, a massive yawn overtook you, and there you were yawning away with your mouth outstretched, like a baby hippo. Steve couldn't help but chuckle as he propped himself up on his elbow, and peered down at you, his naked, glistening chest peeking out of the blankets the two of you were wrapped in.

"Yeah, laugh at me, Rogers, real nice," you grumbled as you rubbed the remainder of sleep away from your eyes and saw the man leaning over you. Your hand came to rest against the side of his face as your thumb began to gently stroke against his stubble, and he inclined his lips so they were directly above yours, his eyes on you.

"Mhm, just wondering how I landed the most beautiful woman in the world," he rasped, as he was pulled down by you, your fingers buried into his messy locks, and you pulled him towards you, your lips locking with his into a gentle smooch.

"You're such a sap, Steve," you pulled apart, wiggling under the covers until you found your right leg on top of him, as you rolled over and pinned him to the bed, and you positioned yourself flat over him, looking down at him, "I can't help but wonder what it would have been like to date you in the 1940s though."

"Really?" He chuckled, staring up at you, as you grabbed the tip of his nose between your lips and began suckling on it teasingly. "Well, I'd have taken you dancing to jazz music, we would have taken late night strolls in the city, under the stars, I think."

"We could still do those things, Stevie. We don't need the 1940s to do it," you grinned as Steve turned to his side, and you came crashing against the soft mattress, giggling slightly until the two of you were now laying on your sides, admiring each other for a minute or two before Steve pulled the covers off himself and sat up in bed.

Your eyebrow shot up in question and Steve smiled, grabbing your chin with his index and his thumb, raising your face up slightly, "I'll go and make us something nice to eat, doll." He rolled to the side of the bed, his feet pressed against the carpeted flooring of your shared apartment when you grabbed his wrist and tugged on it, pulling yourself up too.

"Stay in bed, Rogers, you practically save the world, and the least I can do is cook us a nice Sunday breakfast," you gave him a pointed stare, a stare that meant that he should be in bed, and he chuckled, falling back in bed, almost nodding when suddenly, his phone began buzzing.

He reached for his phone that was laying on the bedside stand, and his eyes narrowed when he saw Bucky's name flash on the screen.

"Doll, I," he began, and you waved him off and nodded at him as you slid into your slippers and started making your way into the kitchen, scratching your head as you began readying the contents of the breakfast.

You could hear Steve on call with Bucky in the bedroom as you scrambled the eggs in a bowl, and began beating them to froth, when Steve poked his head in to the kitchen with an apologetic expression on his face. He tiptoed into kitchen and fixed himself behind you, pinning you to the counter and sighing into your back.

"Well, who needs saving now?" You sighed back, pretty much aware what the call was about. The truth was you were used to this, you knew what you had signed up for when you decided you wanted to date Captain America. Well, he did come with his baggage, and you had learnt to live with those.

"Buck, well he sort of got into a scuffle with the cops?" Steve drawled apologetically, causing you to chuckle dryly as you flipped the pancake in the air, and caught it in the pan.

"And if I am not wrong," you murmured, letting Steve rest his head against your shoulder, while your hands worked on the breakfast while at the same time, your mouth and your mind were busy with your lover, "Barnes wants you to save his ass once again."

"But it's Sunday, and this is the only day I get to spend time with you, Buck should realize that before getting into messes like these."

You turned the burner off, and turned towards him, so that you were facing him now, and you placed both your hands on his shoulders, your fingers toying with the back of his head, "I know baby, but I still think you should go."

"Really?" His eyebrow perked up as he regarded you carefully, with his blue irises, trying to study you, and figure out if you were just saying it sarcastically, or did you mean every word of it, but your face showed no signs of malice as you smiled at him and nodded.

"Well, to be honest? I sort of wanted you to make a fuss? Would have given me another reason to say no to Buck and sort out his own mess, so I could stay in with you?" He winked, and you laughed in response.

"I guess you picked the wrong woman then, Rogers. I am of an arduous belief in Captain America, and that man has a duty that doesn't give him Sundays off particularly." You chuckled.

"Yeah well that duty is saving Buck's ass," he wiggled his brows, and you couldn't help but contain your giggles. It was always refreshing to hear your grandpa boyfriend use a derogatory language, that you had made him accustomed to.

"I guess I'll go on then, and let you have breakfast in peace, but I'll be back as soon as I can, doll," his hands on your hips, you leaned up to plant a kiss on his lips, and he retaliated, kissing you back gently, before he pulled away.

Turned out, Steve Grant Rogers didn't come back for lunch either, and as you sat, crumpled into a ball in front of your television set, randomly flipping through the channels in an attempt to distract yourself from missing your boyfriend severely, an idea struck your mind.

You pulled out your phone and dialled Steve's number, waiting for him to pick up and just like you had expected, he picked up on the first ring, "hey, doll, sorry. Things are worse than I imagined them to be. I'll be there by dinner?"

You sighed as you fell back against the couch, pulling the comforter over your legs and let out a sigh, receiving a sigh from him on the other end too, "I love you much to be mad at you, Rogers. I'll see you at dinner."

"Bye, doll, I love you too!" Steve was almost pulling the phone off his ear when your voice rang out through it, and it was more like a yell, causing Steve to hurriedly fling it back to his ear again.

"Steve! Wait! Don't disconnect yet. Would you mind if I borrow your sweater? It smells like you."

It was funny how Steve had never thought of this before, and neither had you. The two of you were living together, and the two of you were in love. But never had you borrowed Steve's clothes before, and it had never come up. Steve swallowed thickly, and for some reason, his heart swelled upon hearing your words.

"I can't wait to see you in my sweater, doll. Don't change out of it then, until I am back," he commanded, and you smiled, stretching your legs in front of you as you replied, "Aye Aye, Captain."

[spicedhoneyy]

take a break

this is my first smut so pls be nice and i’m sorry if it sucks 🥺

it had been weeks since you last got to see hyejoo. she was busy with her group as they ramped up for their next few weeks of promotions. while she was busy working tirelessly day in and out, you were studying for midterms. it was your first semester of this year and you couldn’t be more stressed to do well on your exams.

you knew full and well that hyejoo was coming home tonight and as much as you wanted to do something cute to greet her, you couldn’t afford to waste any time.

your front door opened followed by a loud groan and deep sigh. a soft laugh left your lips as you visualized her facial expression.

you could hear her walk down the hallway and towards your bedroom. although you weren’t facing her, you knew she was leaning on the door frame staring at you.

“y/n, have you been studying all day?” she asked as walked closer to you. peering over your shoulder, she scanned the textbook pages that were in front of you.

almost half of the text was highlighted in either neon pink or yellow, sticky notes stuck between pages, and stray annotations ran along the margins.

she mumbled to herself, “i’m so happy i dropped out...”

hyejoo waited for you to turn around and acknowledge her presence but you never did. your eyes stayed glued to the books and papers in front of you while you scribbled down more notes at the same time.

your girlfriend spun your chair around and now you were facing her. she asked, “why are you ignoring me?”

you motioned to your desk and stated, “i have an exam tomorrow night and i still don’t know what the fuck i’m doing.”

hyejoo asked, “can you take a break?”

the closer she stepped towards you, the more her scent lingered in your nose. the heavenly mix of her perfume combined with her natural aroma pushed certain thoughts into your head. you knew that if you gave in there was no way you would finish studying like you’d planned.

you replied, “no. now go shower...you’re all sweaty.” quickly you pushed her away and turned back around, pushing your glasses up as you went back to reading.

it was quiet as hyejoo was in your bathroom taking a shower, her faint hums flowing through the hallway and to your ears. you smiled softly at the sound, the pitch of her voice low and appealing with a silvery undertone.

your door reopened and you could feel in the air alone that her mood had changed. her warm hand pressed against your shoulder blade before she leaned down, her lips almost touching the shell of your ear but not quite there.

your girlfriend rasped, “i think you need a break”

with one hand she turned your chair around, she was standing in front of you with one of your t shirts on. it came just below her upper thigh, a pair of her own shorts that were definitely too short to wear anywhere except home.

you swallowed thickly and stuttered, “i-i need...i need to study.”

she pulled her lightly dampened hair into a high ponytail, shaking her head she dismissed your comment, “no.”

she stepped closer to you and pulled you out of your chair so you were no face to face. a smirk made its way across her lips as she started backing you up until you hit your bed.

lightly, she pushed you back making you fall gently onto your mattress. you pushed yourself back until your hit a pillow behind you. her hand lifted your head, placing it softly on the pillow beneath you. she pulled your glasses off and placed them on the nightstand next you your bed.

one of her thighs on each side of your torso, she sat on top of you lightly. her one hand cupping the side of your face, “i missed you.”

you replied, “i missed you too.”

you didn’t get another moment to say anything else before she leaned down and captured your lips in hers. this kiss was different than the ones your eyes shared before, it felt sensual, warmer.

with one foot you pushed yourself further up the bed until your back was against the headboard. hyejoo’s tongue ran over your lip asking for more. you let her tongue slip past yours, your taut muscle swirled around hers. your girlfriend sucked on your bottom lip, eliciting a noise from the back of your throat. your eyes flew open and immediately she stopped and pulled away.

the two of you had never really gotten this far before, in most cases it was you to stop. hyejoo didn’t mind, she just wanted you to be comfortable, whenever you stopped, she did as well.

“are you okay?” she asked warmly, her eyes softened as she started to climb off of you.

when your hand firmly gripped her thigh she raised an eyebrow. you told her, “i’m fine...k-keep going.”

she smiled and said, “tell me to stop and i will okay?” before connecting your lips again, repeating the same actions as she had before.

her hand gently snaked up your shirt, her cold fingers lightly scratching your skin. carefully she inched her fingers higher before hiking up your shirt and pulling it off.

hyejoo’s eyes lingered on your bare chest for a second too long, as a result you brought your hands up to cover yourself nervously. she pushed your hands away gently before kissing your soft skin, softly she mumbled, “you’re so beautiful.”

you felt heat bloom lower, as she kissed and nipped at your chest, her free hand untied your pajama bottoms. just as you kicked them off, your back arched up as her lips wrapped around your nipple.

her tongue swirled around your stiffened bud, her free hand rubbing the other one gently. you suppressed any noises you felt that you were about to make, purely out of embarrassment. you knew there was nothing to be bashful about but you couldn’t help it.

you were so wrapped up in your own thoughts that you didn’t notice your girlfriend had moved lower. she settled between your thighs and looked up at you. before she could ask you nodded and breathily whispered, “yes.”

she nodded and pushed your legs open further, kissing the soft plush skin of your inner thighs. her tongue dragged along the outline of the stretch marks that were painted lightly along your skin. she sucked lightly, intentionally leaving small marks against your thighs.

hyejoo’s thumbs hooked around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down torturously slow. she noticed the wet spot on the fabric, kissing it softly, her tongue just barely getting a taste.

you sat up on your arms looking down at her, “hyejoo-yahhhh” you whined. she hummed, “hmmm?” you pleaded, “please...”

she smirked before pulling the fabric all the way off, tossing them to the side. her mouth watered at the sight before her.

you spread in front of her, your slick covered folds glistened in the low light of your bedroom. the smell of your sweetened musk emanated around her to the point where she felt like she was drowning in you. she loved it that way. with two fingers she spread you open, small strings of your sweet nectar pulling apart with the simple action.

instinctively you bucked your hips up toward her face, she purred, “let me hear you this time princess.”

hyejoo dipped her head down, her tongue flattened against you, licking up your slick juice. that was all it took for you to let everything you’d held in so far out. a mixture of melodic moans and delicate whimpers left your lips as she worked between your thighs.

your one hand pushed her face further into you, her tongue ran through your slippery folds. she moaned at your taste, only one she could describe as an over-ripened fruit, slightly sugared with a unique tartness, and flecks of silver that lingered on her tongue. a flavor so divine that she couldn’t explain it further, all she could do was let you further intoxicate her senses.

hyejoo slipped one finger into you, pumping slowly until she could feel that your body wanted another. you wished you could verbally let her know how you felt in this moment, but it was almost as if your mind and body had separated.

all you could do was keen beneath her, tightening your grip in her hair. she then pushed both her ring and middle fingers into you. using her pinky and pointer, she spread you further open.

her tongue ran over your clit, coaxing it from beneath the hood it was hidden behind. your back arched as you moaned sweet nothings in english, that alone told your girlfriend that she was doing everything right.

her teeth grazed over your hardened bud, your shaky pants layered over her own soft breaths only turned you on more.

you felt a mix of heat and pressure rise from your lower abdomen, she felt your legs tremble beside her ear which only egged her on. you gasped, “hye!” as your body lost control of itself. you shuttered beneath her as your eyes rolled back and your back arched up. a loud pop resonated through the room, only making your girlfriend smile against you. something about knowing you made someone arch their back so far that their back popped was extremely satisfying.

she slowed down her actions, riding you through your climax lazily.

she kissed your inner thighs, soothing the marks that she’d left earlier before making her way back up to your face.

with her forearm she wiped away the remains of your essence, kissing you gently so you could taste yourself in her lips.

she asked breathily, “see? i told you that you needed a break.” all you could do is let out a small whimper, still recovering from what just happened.

[tothemeadow]

Hi!! I just saw your requests were open and I wanted to ask for a nsfw scenario with Mui? But like with a dom!fem!reader please, hehe. I honestly can't be submissive to save my life (it makes me extremely uncomfortable and is a big turn off)so I'd really appreciate it if you could write for me! There's so little content for dom readers tbh- I'd understand if you're uncomfortable with the topic though!! 1/2

Aw, thank you! And I totally get what you mean - femdoms are 😤👌

It is my personal quest to bring more dominant reader action into this thirsty world.

‘make me’ / Tokito M. x Reader

warnings: NSFW, sugar mama/baby, Mommy kink, sex toys, blowjobs, pegging

words: 2,545

(a/n): you bet your goddamn ass Muichiro is 18+ in this

-

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

Your eyebrows twitch. Tonguing the inside of your cheek, you mentally count to ten. It’s best not to rip into him just yet. All you asked was that he come inside, maybe spend some quality time with you. It’s not too much to ask, is it? There’s nothing wrong with wanting that, is there?

But no, clearly there is.

Perching his designer sunglasses on top of his head, Muichiro gives you a onceover. Long, inky strands frame his face; the hairs are pushed back behind his ears, revealing expensive looking hoops. Everything about his appearance screams haughty bitch - his tanned skin, his perfectly manicured nails, the name brand swim trunks wrapped around his skinny legs. It’s funny, though, since he wouldn’t even look this way if it weren’t for you.

Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, you know?

Pouty lips purse around a bright red lollipop as he pulls it out of his mouth. Both his lips and tongue are stained a fruity red, the color a stark difference against his crystalline eyes. Even as he blinks, you can see specks of a fine, shimmery eyeshadow. As much as you’re annoyed with him, you can never deny how absolutely stunning he is.

“You’re frowning,” he points out. “You’ll give yourself crow’s feet if you keep doing that, Mommy.”

Oh, yes. The delights of being a sugar mama. Too bad your sugar baby is a spoiled brat.

Promptly planting yourself on his lounge chair, you yank the magazine from his grasp and toss it onto the table next to him. Muichiro cocks a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Don’t be backtalking me, sweetie.”

“I am not,” Muichiro says, his tone almost bordering a whine.

“Oh? Then I’m only pretending that you’re acting this way? You know I don’t like it when you treat me like that.”

Muichiro puffs his cheeks indignantly. Even while pouting, he looks like a model. It’s both utterly ridiculous and amusing at once. “I’m not doing anything wrong. You’re just overreacting.”

Overreacting? Oh, now that’s rich.

You click your tongue. “Watch your tone.”

Scrunching his eyebrows, Muichiro sticks the lollipop in his mouth and shakes his head. “Uh-uh.”

“Muichiro,” you warn.

“Make me.”

You suck in a sharp breath. That’s enough of this bratty attitude. Reaching forward, your fingers wrap around the stick of his lollipop, yanking the candy away. Muichiro cries out in alarm, an offended expression contorting his features. You chuck it onto the magazine, careful enough not to hit the table. If Muichiro complains about you ruining his reading material, sobeit.

“Listen to me, you little brat,” you spit, your hand clamping around his face and squishing his cheeks. “Don’t make me bend you over my knee.”

Muichiro’s eyes widen. You can see the gears turning in his head; thick lashes flutter enticingly, brush his sun kissed cheeks. You realize right away that he’s mocking you. Cocking his head back, you leer over him.

“Muichiro,” you start in a low, low voice, “you better get your ass inside before I tie you up and edge you.” Loosening your hold on his face, you retract your hand and stand up. Muichiro hastily scrambles to follow suit, a sly smirk growing on his face. Little brat – he’s enjoying this.

The rational part of your mind tells you to cease all motions and not give into his little scheme. However, the darker, more animalistic side tells you to comply and have him thinking over what he’s done. You choose the latter.

Muichiro plops himself on your bed the second he enters the bedroom. The bed itself is large, expensive; satiny sheets and thick blankets cover the bed, the color an elegant cream. You’ve always appreciated how nicely the tone of Muichiro’s skin contrasts compared to it. Muichiro’s movements are practically giddy as he shucks his trunks off and places his sunglasses on your nightstand. A quick glance over tells you that he’s already half hard. He openly smirks as he catches you staring.

“Come on, Mommy,” he singsongs, perching himself on all fours and crawling to the edge of the bed. Tossing his long hair over his shoulder, he flashes you a sultry look. “I don’t wanna wait anymore.”

You don’t even bother holding back a scoff. Look at him, acting like he owns the damn place. Like he’s in charge of the relationship. Crossing your arms, you force yourself to keep on an annoyed expression. It’s a load of bullshit, though, since you can feel dampness collecting in your panties. Kneeling at the edge of the mattress, you look down at Muichiro.

From this angle, you can see the delicate slope of his back, the swell of his perky ass. The brat is built like a goddamn pornstar and he knows it. Cupping his chin, you tilt his head up. “You think everything has to go your way, huh?”

Muichiro wiggles his ass. “Isn’t that the whole point?”

You tongue the inside of your cheek. If he’s going to be continuously mouthy like this, there’s only one thing left to do. Pulling yourself away, you ignore Muichiro���s impatient huff and head for the closet. Like the entirety of your home, it’s large and full of expensive items; however, as wealthy as you may be, most of them are Muichiro’s belongings. Dropping low at a set of shelves, you pull out a black box, your fingernails drumming against the thick plastic. Muichiro’s probably expecting a pair of handcuffs, maybe even a gag.

But you’ve got something better in mind.

At this point, Muichiro’s openly whining with impatience. As you quickly disrobe, the distinct sound of skin sliding skin, the slight breathiness of Muichiro’s moans. Your chest pangs with irritation; you don’t know what’s going on in that perverted head of his, but you’ve finally had enough. Securing the harness around your hips and thighs, you grab onto your weapon of choice and storm back into the bedroom.

Like you thought, Muichiro’s flat on his back, his neck craned over the edge of the bed, his fingers frantically pulling and twisting at his cock. Your mouth dries at the sight, a lump forming in your throat. Muichiro looks absolutely breathtaking like this, his body sprawled and long hair flowing.

“Mommy,” he sighs, almost dreamily.

“Fuck,” you grunt. Quickly making your way over to the bed, your pussy clenches around nothing as his breath hitches in his throat. “Get on your hands and knees,” you bark.

With a feeble nod, Muichiro does as he’s told, probably too horny and eager to get fucked to give any mouth. You almost laugh, because is he really being serious right now? Obviously, he thinks with his dick more than his head, it seems. Pressing his face into the mattress, he raises himself on his knees, his ass reaching towards the ceiling. Between the split of his legs, you can see his cock hanging heavily, precum swelling from the slit.

“Impatient little brat,” you growl, clambering onto the bed behind him. “You just had to start touching yourself, didn’t you?”

“It’s not like you were doing anything,” Muichiro snips. A squeak bursts from his lips when your hand sharply connects with his asscheek.

“Bad boy,” you say, a deep scowl digging into your cheeks. You ignore his cries as you spank him again, again, and again. His ass is turning an apple red from the force of your spankings, the outline of your hand becoming more and more evident.

Muichiro takes it like a champ, though, his back arching and thighs twitching. The head of his cock drags against the thick duvet; it elicits such a sinful noise from him, the edges blurred with a heavy breath. Slender fingers clutch at the material, yank on it with a grip that turns his knuckles white.

“You should apologize for your mouth.” Delivering one final smack against his pert ass, you sit back on your haunches and turn to the object you placed on the bed. The dildo you picked is jet black in color, a perfect mix of length and girth. This oughtta shut Muichiro up. After attaching it to the harness, you flick your fingers against the reddened skin of his ass. “Face me.”

With shaky movements, Muichiro raises himself to his knees and turns around. His eyes instantly latch onto the thing between your thighs; his Adam’s apple bobs as he thickly swallows. Cupping a hand around the back of his neck, you guide him forward, bending him over until he’s eyelevel with your cock.

“Since you run your mouth so much, I figured you might as well put it to use.”

Muichiro’s eyes dart upwards.

You cock an unamused eyebrow at him. “Well? What are you waiting for? You’re starving to get fucked, right? Where’s that confidence from earlier? Doesn’t my little slut wanna be fucked into the bed?” Taking your cock into your hand, you tap the head against his flushed cheek. “Suck.”

Petal lips wrap around the head, the hint of a tongue peeking out. You watch as Muichiro flicks his tongue over the head in tiny strokes. You scoff. The hand on the back of his neck pulls him further in; your cock shoves its way deeper into his mouth, making Muichiro yelp in surprise. Keeping your hand there, you let him set his own pace.

Slurping noises quickly fill the room as he frantically sucks on your cock. He urges it down his throat, his pretty pink lips wrapped so sinfully around its girth. His eyes stay locked on yours the entire time, his thick lashes fluttering sultrily. Saliva bubbles at the corners of his mouth, spill down his chin. Frantically bobbing his head, his tongue laps at the underside of your cock, frantic, desperate. His hips shift subtly and suddenly he’s moaning around your cock; your eyes narrow into icy slits.

“Dirty little cockslut,” you sneer. “You’re getting off by sucking a fucking toy? You’re that desperate to have something down your throat, aren’t you? Go ahead – choke yourself.”

Gripping onto the back of his head, you buck your hips forward, driving your cock down his throat. Muichiro gags around it, his eyelids falling shut. The air hisses as he sharply inhales; he complains weakly, the sound nothing more than a pathetic whimper.

“You want me to fuck you with this, don’t you? Be a good little slut and cover it up in spit. You’re already so messy, so it should be easy for you, huh? Filthy boy.”

Muichiro moans loudly; as though encouraged by your degrading words, more spittle rolls down his chin, glistens on the surface of your cock. His hips move erratically, the drag of his cock against the duvet making his cries louder and higher in tone.

“Uh-uh-uh,” you tsk. You rip his mouth off of your cock, an obscene string of spit clinging to his bottom lip and the head of your cock. It snaps as you pull him away, a fucked-out expression playing on his features. “You wanna get fucked?” Muichiro eagerly nods his head. Picking up the bottle of lube laying to the side, you look at him expectantly. “Then you know what to do.”

Trembling fingers grab the bottle from your hand. You watch on as Muichiro pours the fluid over his digits, a slight hitch in his breath at how cold it feels. Reaching behind himself, he teases his quivering hole with the pads of his fingertips. Steadily, he works himself open, adding one finger at a time. Biting his lip, he rocks back onto his fingers, the squelch of the lube seemingly echoing in the room. Paired with his heavy pants, he sounds absolutely filthy.

Settling your back against the headboard, you beckon him forward with a ‘come hither’ motion. Muichiro hiccups on a soft sob as he pulls his fingers out of him; quickly scrambling to sit on your lap, he practically jumps on top you in his desperation. He’s too quick to lower himself on your cock, a keen ripping itself out of his throat at the stretch.

“Do- do something already,” he hisses, his eyelids fluttering. “Stop making me do all the work, Mommy!”

“Ungrateful slut,” you growl. Gripping onto his hips, you roll your hips into him, the head of your cock inching into him even further. “You’re still going to be a brat? Do I have to press your face down into the bed and fuck you silent?” At that, Muichiro moans loud.

Yanking him down, you control the pace, guiding his hips and angling your own so you’re hitting his prostate dead on with each stroke of your cock. He whimpers and mewls in pleasure, his head craning back and exposing the column of his neck. Swooping in, you nip at the flesh, scratch your teeth over the pounding vein. You’re all too aware of the slick between your thighs, how it’s ruining the blankets beneath you, but you don’t fucking care. Not when Muichiro’s whining like a bitch in heat.

His cock bobs with each thrust, slaps back against his stomach. Precum oozes from the tip, smears over both of yours skin. He’s just dying to be touched, to have your hand jerk him off, to have your lips wrap around the aching flesh. Quickly snatching his wrists, you force him to wrap his arms around your neck. Tiny gasps spill from his lips as you mouth at the underside of his jaw. Your hands drift over his chest; you pull and twist are his hardened nipples, relish in his pathetic mewls.

“Mommy, Mommy,” he chants, his tongue lolling out and more drool dripping from his chin. “Touch me.” He keens as you sink your teeth into his neck.

“You’ve been such a brat,” you coo. “If you want to cum, it’s going to be like this.”

Tears prick the corners of his crystalline eyes. “I-I can’t,” he stammers. “Please, Mommy-“

Readjusting yourself, you slam your hips into him, the head of your cock slamming into his prostate even harder. His fingernails scratch your shoulders as his entire body seizes up; throwing his head back, he chokes on a cry as he orgasms, hot ropes of white shooting out and painting your stomachs. You fuck him through his orgasm, milk him for everything that he’s got.

The corners of your mouth pull into a smug smile as he finally looks to you, his face a bright and sweaty mess. The inky strands of his hair stick to his skin. He looks so wrecked, so thoroughly ruined – and fuck it’s so hot. Bringing him forward, you lick your way into his mouth. His tongue languidly slides against yours, barely putting up a fight. He moans into your mouth as you run your fingers over his sensitive cock, scooping up some cum on your index finger. Breaking off the kiss, you promptly shove your finger into his mouth instead.

“Are you ready to apologize yet, sweetie?” you ask him.

Grabbing onto your wrist, he pulls your finger out of his mouth; he sticks out his tongue, showing you the bit of white gathered on the red-stained muscle. Clamping his mouth shut, he flashes you a mischievous smile. “Make me.”

[ahkaahshi]

1:32 AM [hirugami sachirou x reader]

pairing: hirugami sachirou x fem reader

genre: fluff with sprinkles of angst

warning(s): descriptions of catastrophic thinking/anxiety, brief mentions of death, swearing

word count: 2.5k

overview: when hirugami’s old habits of rumination come back to haunt him, there’s only one person who can bring him peace

By the time it’s 1:32 AM, Hirugami has spent no less than a half hour staring at the digitized numbers of the alarm clock cutting through the darkness, watching the precious seconds and minutes of sleep tick away before his eyes. A strange haze hangs over him, and it’s as if his ears have been stuffed with cotton, amplifying all the thoughts pounding against his skull. For a moment, there’s an eerie silence in his head, during which he can hear the leaves whispering in the breeze outside of his window, and he thinks he’s finally falling asleep, but the quietude is painfully temporary.

With a heavy sigh, he turns on his back and stares up at the ceiling, giving his thoughts a moment to surface individually, like bubbles rising to meet the daylight shining down on a body of water.

When will what I do ever be enough?

Did I really choose the right path in life?

Would I still feel this way if my life had played out differently?

When will these thoughts stop?

Rumination is nothing new to him. Despite being able to keep the habit tucked away for a majority of his high school years with both yours and Hoshiumi’s help, he finds that it often comes back to haunt him at the most unexpected times. His week at work had been as smooth as it could be given he was a busy veterinarian, yet he’d felt a knot of something—uncertainty?—forming within him over the course of the past few days. Where it had originated from he had no clue, but it was proving to be a formidable opponent now, in the late hours of the evening while the rest of the neighborhood slept.

The journal on his bedside table catches his attention, and as much as he knows he should take a moment to pen down his troubles in an attempt to put them to rest, his hands feel too heavy to move. Just making the simple trip from his chest to the table feels like the most effortful task in the universe. He does, however, find the strength and motivation to reach for his phone lying beside him where he’d tossed it in agony after realizing he was using it far too long after bedtime.

His eyelids instinctively narrow at the sudden influx of light that spills onto his face from the screen when he turns it on, even though the brightness is at its lowest setting. Lazy drags of his fingertips find him face to face with your smiling contact photo, and sluggish taps compose a more to-the-point text message than he usually sends asking if you’re still awake. Gray dots appearing, then promptly disappearing along the bottom of his screen proves that you are—and in an instant, he’s answering a call from you.

“What’s up, Sachi?” you ask, voice more chipper than he’d expect at this hour.

“Nothin’ much,” he lies with a yawn. Hearing his voice weighted so heavily with fatigue makes your heart sink in your chest. “What’re you up to?”

He can hear rustling through the phone as you readjust the blankets ensconcing you to pull them up to your shoulders again. Gazing at your glowing computer screen, you respond, “Just watching a movie,” before asking, “Everything okay?”

“Just having trouble getting to sleep, is all,” he explains, the words leaving his mouth in another exasperated groan, “So, I thought I’d talk to my favorite person if she was still awake.”

Jokingly, you comment, “I won’t tell Kourai you said that, yeah?”

He chuckles. “Thanks.”

A comfortable moment of silence passes, during which you shuffle your feet beneath the covers to warm them up and he allows his eyelids to flutter shut so he can focus his full attention on the sound of your voice when you speak again. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Don’t you get tired of it, (f/n)?”

“Of what, baby?”

“Of listening to me talk myself in circles when I’m like this and hearing about the same issues over and over again?”

Though there’s a hint of irritation laced in his tone, you know it’s directed at himself rather than at you. “Sachi, you can talk about whatever you want as much as you want. I know how much you keep to yourself, so it’s okay. I just want to help, since I know how exhausting it must be for you to deal with.” There’s a short pause, and you know from experience that his mind is most likely distorting your words, forming them into daggers he sinks into his own heart. “I promise, it’s okay to talk to me about it. Trust me.”

He blinks slowly, takes a deep breath, and agrees, “Okay.”

Pursing your lips, you glance around the darkness of your room until your eyes settle on the bag you’d already packed, ready to take to his house for your scheduled weekend visits. “Would it help if you could see my face?” you wonder, your mouth curling up into a small grin regardless of the fact that he can’t see it.

“Well,” he hums, dragging his long fingers through his chestnut brown hair, “you know I’d never turn down the opportunity to see my gorgeous girlfriend, but you’ll have to give me a minute to touch up my makeup.”

With a snicker, you retort, “You’ll have plenty of time to pull yourself together if I just come over instead.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, sweetheart. Not at this ungodly hour.”

“And you didn’t,” you reaffirm, “but I want to, so, will you let me visit a whole—” you interrupt yourself to check the time before continuing—“eight and a half hours earlier than we’d originally planned?”

“I would love that,” is his answer given without hesitation despite his initial, intrusive thought of being burdensome to you by allowing you to drive over so early in the morning.

And even though he feels himself sinking deeper and deeper into the spiral of negative ideas swirling around him like the raging waters of a whirlpool, he doesn’t regret accepting your invitation when you arrive about twenty minutes later. Upon opening the door to your car for you, he’s greeted by your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him close for a tight hug that instantly engulfs him in a warm feeling of comfort that he can’t liken to anything else he’s ever felt before from anyone else. He holds your body flush against his—even after he’s felt your grip loosen in a signal to pull away that then tightens once more at realizing he’s not quite finished yet—and acknowledges the guilt that suddenly rises within him.

How could I ever want to know how things could’ve been different when I have her?

“Thanks for coming,” he whispers, craning his neck to press a kiss to yours before finally releasing you and slinging your bag over his shoulder. The wave of cold air that rushes between your bodies at their separation nearly makes you reach for him again, but you settle for latching onto his hand instead while the two of you make your way up to his apartment. “You made it here in record time, speed racer.”

Chuckling, you joke, “Drove like I was answering a booty call.”

“I’m truly flattered.”

The gentle smile across his lips has your heart skipping a beat in your chest but doesn’t hide the fatigue clearly present on his handsome features. His hand on your back gently ushers you inside the familiar warmth of his home when he unlocks the door, and you make a beeline to his bedroom once you’ve kicked off your shoes. A look of amusement glimmers in his eyes at how quickly you settle yourself down in his bed and bury yourself under his comforter and blankets.

As he climbs into bed beside you, your hands move to the sides of his face to pull him towards you for a gentle kiss. “What’s going on, Sachi?” you murmur after your lips part. He sits on the mattress beside you, and the sinking of the bed naturally draws you closer to one another until your arms are wrapped around his torso and his draped over your shoulders.

“Just the usual,” he sighs, fingers absentmindedly grazing the fabric of your sweater, “You know, the whole wondering if I’ve done everything right bit. My mind just loves reminding me of my mistakes and going through how I could’ve handled things differently, even if the thing in question happened, like, five years ago.”

You hum understandingly and nod, focusing on his words to keep yourself awake—which is a challenge when his body feels like a lullaby.

“I’m still hung up over that dog we couldn’t save last month. Every day, I find myself thinking of the moment when his heartbeat just… stopped. And the look in his owner’s eyes when I told her he hadn’t made it. And I just wonder, what could I have done differently to keep him alive?”

He swallows thickly and breathes out a somewhat frustrated sigh. “And I replay the arguments I’ve had with people—and with you—in my head, wondering what I could’ve done to prevent them. But I know that hindsight’s twenty-twenty and that if I’d have known the answer or what was to come beforehand then it never would’ve happened to begin with. It’s so frustrating because I know this, I’ve been able to accept mistakes and let them go, yet I still beat myself up really badly over things every now and then.”

Moving away from him slightly so you can look up at him, into his weary but kind and welcoming gaze, you place your hands on his shoulders and give him a small smile. “Baby,” you say with an affectionate squeeze to his muscles, “these shoulders of yours are so strong, but they’re meant for carrying backpacks, me when I want a piggyback ride, or any kids we may or may not have in the future; not the weight of the world.”

He tilts his head to the side so he can lower his cheek onto one of your hands, spreading heat across your skin. With the way he’s watching you so intently, you can tell how much he values your words as well as the fact that you’re here, sitting in front of him instead of gazing at him through a screen.

Slowly, speaking as the thoughts enter your mind, you assure him, “It’s okay to fuck up. How would we learn if we didn’t?” You stroke his cheek with your thumb before your fingers move to his head of waves tousled haphazardly from whatever restless sleep he’d been able to get.

“Just remind yourself of the way you usually deal with mistakes. Acknowledge them, say yeah, that happened, and it sucked ass, but I’ll do better next time, and let go of them. I mean, I know it’s way, way easier said than done, but you’re really good at it. Remember all those times in high school I came to you, freaking out over the smallest things that I’d done? Who am I kidding? I still do that; but, anyway, it’s always been you who’s helped me. Give yourself the same permission to mess up.”

Your boyfriend of many years heaves a deep sigh as he lets the truth of your statements pass through his internal filter that does a fine job, unfortunately, in this case, of sifting through only the ideas he wants to believe. Though they’re met with initial resistance that only manifests as a defense mechanism, all your words manage to remain after the process like the smallest pieces of gold hidden amongst layers and layers of sediment.

Taking your hand in his, you tell him, “There aren’t really any right or wrong decisions, and I know you know that. They’re just choices you make. Mistakes are gonna happen no matter what, but you’re gonna be okay. I know you, Hirugami Sachirou, and I know how strong and determined you are. You can do what you set your mind to and with that smile on your face some people find annoying—” the grin in question appears on his lips, making you laugh—“Yeah, that one. So, get it into that big brain of yours that you’re doing your best or I’ll have to rough you up a bit.”

“I’m shaking in my boots.”

“As you should be.”

In an instant, the heavy layers of worry that had restricted him before unravel at your definitive statement, and he’s laughing while he pulls you into his arms once more. As always, his laughter is contagious, and it’s not long before you’re doing the same, body shaking against his. “Don’t unleash your wrath on me, baby; I’ll listen, I promise. And I’ll make your favorite for breakfast tomorrow,” he concedes with a teasing tone, a yawn whisking some of his words away.

“We have a deal,” you chirp, “Now, let’s go to sleep. It’s way past your bedtime, gramps.”

He complains, “You callin’ me old?” as your bodies sink down onto the soft mattress, his head pausing in its natural course towards your chest so it can hover above yours. “’Cause I found more gray hairs than I’d like to admit when I was doing my hair yesterday, so I’m actually really self-conscious about it.”

Sticking out your lower lip in a sympathetic pout, you comment, “I said you were old, but I didn’t say that you weren’t hot.”

“So, I’ve still got it, huh?”

“You’re basically a silver fox.”

A soft hum of contentment rumbles against your lips when he presses his to them to shower you with a few, affectionate kisses. Eventually, he pulls away and pecks your chin on his way to your neck, where he nestles his head as your arms readjust to accommodate his body coming to rest against yours. “Thanks, (f/n),” he mumbles, voice suddenly heavy and lethargic compared to how it had been moments earlier, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

Your fingers card through his hair softly as he takes a deep breath and slides his palm along the back of your thigh to coax it around his waist so he can move his body even closer to yours. While the two of you lie together, surrounded in warmth, feeling the gentle beating of each other’s hearts against your bodies, Hirugami finds he has nothing left to worry about—no thoughts left to disturb him. And, because his mind is finally quiet and still, the ruminating beast within him quelled by your honest words and gentle touch, sleep finally comes just as easily to him as loving you does.

when night falls masterlist

when night falls taglist (send an ask to be added!)

@why-aminot-dead​​, @yamagucji​​, @toutorii​​, @shibayamasbae​​, @tsukkisbean​​, @devlovesiwa-channn​​, @captain-shittykawa​​, @ghblh​​, @postsfromthe6​​, @omibaby​​, @deerixiie​​, @oikawoahh​​, @stormlights​​

[angstyaches]

This is trope anon from before :) It might be interesting to see Elliot put off feeling sick, because he is so caught up taking care of everyone else? He kind of strikes me as a worry about everyone else first kind of guy lol. Then absolutely regretting it later haha

If not Elliot, Ryan also kind of gives me similar vibes

CW: mention of disordered eating/malnourishment, trauma mention, overwork, nausea, emeto, dizziness, blood mention (he’s a vamp, so yeah), pining (for absent partner), platonic/brotherly caretaking

Author’s note: Elliott and Felix are going to be just FINE! They’re not even broken up; Felix is just a little AWOL after a fight they had. I just loooove me some angst.

Elliott’s vision went pitch black for a moment as he stood and waited for the kettle to finish boiling. His stomach lurched so harshly that he almost turned towards the sink, expecting the return of the blood he’d drank for breakfast. Instead, he swallowed, closed his eyes, and breathed in slowly through his nose. He was overexerted, probably. He’d been pushing himself during his and Shayne’s ritualistic “sparring” (or, as Shayne called it, “trying to kick the shit out of each other” or “therapy”) session. Elliott had hoped his supernatural abilities would have begun to manifest by now, seeing as his transition to full vampire was complete. But still, nothing yet. Maybe the stress of Felix being gone was stunting his development. Maybe the stress was adding to how bad he felt.

The kettle clicked, reminding him of why he was standing in the kitchen in the first place. Elliott’s heart sank as he recalled Shayne’s eyes rolling back in his head, his body almost hitting the ground before Elliott could catch him. Turned out the kid had been starving himself again. Elliott would have punched his lights out if they hadn’t already basically been out.

A minute later, Elliott picked up a hot mug and crossed the open-plan kitchen and living area to where he’d left Shayne on the white sofa. He was conscious now, at least, but his eyes were glazed and unfocused.

The mug contained hot, weak tea and a few spoons of the glucose solution Ryan had concocted for Felix’s blood-and-sugar lollipops. Back in the day, when Felix refused blood and couldn’t hold food down, Ryan had fed him the solution like this, and it had kept him from passing out. The smell was so strong that Elliott almost gagged, his body so delicate as to protest merely being in the presence of human sustenance.

Elliott tried to hand Shayne the mug, but his cousin’s hands were so shaky he almost dropped it immediately. Elliott took it back, trying to ignore the fact that his own hands weren’t exactly the steadiest. He brought the rim of the mug to Shayne’s lips.

Shayne made a face and pulled away as soon as he took the first sip. His hand went to his mouth, like he was considering spitting it back out.

“Swallow it.”

A shiver seemed to roll through Shayne’s body as he did. His eyes watered like he was about to cry. “That tastes like shit, El.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what you get for forgetting that you need to eat.”

“I didn’t forget I needed to…” Shayne mumbled. “I’m not stupid.”

“That’s extremely debatable. Drink.”

“I’m gonna be sick.”

“Drink,” Elliott said again, as calmly as he could, “or I’m going to get Ryan.”

The last of the fight went out of Shayne’s eyes. Elliott knew he didn’t want Ryan or Nancy to know things had gotten this bad again.

Victorious but not feeling it, Elliott brought the mug to Shayne’s lips again and again, letting him take small sips. At one point, he covered his mouth again, shoulders jerking forward as he gagged slightly. Elliott’s stomach flipped at the sound and he had to turn his face away until Shayne stopped. He didn’t usually puke from seeing somebody else do it, but he had a bad feeling that if Shayne threw up, he would lose it too.

Shayne shook his head when presented with the mug again. A tentative hand rested on his stomach. “I can’t, El. It’s so heavy.”

Part of Elliott didn’t want to yield so easily, wanted to make him finish the mug. He wondered what Felix would do, or how Charlie would have reacted to that pleading look. Elliott knew he wasn’t soft in the same way they were. He just hoped he wasn’t harsh.

He hoped he wasn’t frightening.

He swallowed against a swell of nausea in his belly. Whatever was gnawing at the pit of his stomach weakened his resolve.

“Okay,” he said, “lie down.”

Shayne gave a small sigh of relief.

Elliott took the mug back to the sink. White floor and wall tiles swayed all around him like he was inside the world’s most colourless kaleidoscope. He slowly breathed in through his nose, leaning on the edge of the countertop to try and introduce some form of balance to his body.

He’d extended the offer to Shayne, but honestly, lying down sounded like an absolute dream to Elliott, too. Maybe his body would stop freaking out if he got a little more rest. His sleeping pattern was completely thrown off, his mind raced in the middle of the night. Felix had star-fished across about forty different mattresses before choosing theirs, and while Elliott had acted like he didn’t care which one they bought, he had ended up agreeing that it was the best mattress he’d ever used. But sleeping there without Felix felt wrong, so his body had been rejecting it as much as physically possible.

Nowadays, he might as well have been sleeping in a wooden coffin like the stereotype dictated.

He turned around to check on Shayne, frowning when he saw that he was still sitting upright on the sofa.

“I thought you were going to try and sleep?”

“I can’t – I can’t,” Shayne whispered, lowering his head into his hands. “El, I – every time I try, I feel like she’s here. Breathing on the back of my neck…”

Guilt churned Elliott’s stomach this time. Elliott felt regrets like cobwebs sticking to his soul, and although he didn’t allow himself many, one of those cobwebs was the feeling that maybe he could have gotten Shayne out of Madelyn’s sooner.

“She’s not getting in here,” Elliott promised. “Ryan will have her head on a stick before letting that happen. Nancy will turn her blood into tar.”

“She doesn’t have to be here, El. She’s already here.” Shayne pressed a finger to either side of his head and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Jesus, I’m – I’m sorry, man.” Elliott laid a hand on his stomach, stifling a belch since he really didn’t need gas leaving his body to make this moment even more stressful. “What usually helps when this happens?”

As Elliot should have expected, Shayne gave a lifeless shrug. Alright, think, Elliott told himself, swallowing thickly. He’d never seen Shayne warm up to anyone until that day in the park when he’d been clinging to Charlie like his life depended on it. He liked to act tough (and who did he pick that up from, I wonder?), but really, Shayne just didn’t want to be alone.

He’d be lying if he said he couldn’t understand that feeling.

Elliott swallowed again, fighting the lump in his throat and the swirling in the pit of his stomach.

“Want me to sit with you?”

Shayne opened his eyes, looking genuinely surprised.

Elliott sank down on the sofa without waiting for a verbal answer. He hit the cushions a little too quickly for his stomach’s liking. It shifted noisily, semi-digested contents swimming around inside. “Now, if you think you can feel someone breathing on you, you can tell yourself it’s just me.”

“Ugh,” Shayne groaned, curling up on his side so that the top of his head was just next to – scarcely touching – Elliott’s thigh. “Do not breathe on me, man.”

Elliott smiled through his vaguely-concealed discomfort, glad that Shayne wasn’t facing him. “Afraid you’ll catch vampire cooties?”

Shayne didn’t respond beyond a soft groan that Elliott interpreted as “shut the fuck up, old man”. So even though he’d have loved to keep taunting his cousin and keep himself distracted, Elliott shut up, letting his neck rest against the back of the sofa and draping one arm up over his eyes. Lack of vision made the world feel a little less like the spinning drum of a washing machine. Elliott regretted dreaming up that metaphor, gritting his teeth as he realised his stomach felt like such a drum, too.

He was swallowing constantly, every few seconds now, chest tight with the effort of drawing slow, shallow breaths. It felt like the fibres holding his being together were frayed and left just shaky enough to throw everything off without causing him any actual, physical pain. Beneath it all was a tiny flame of anger; what the hell was the point in becoming a vampire if feeling unexplainably shitty at inconvenient intervals was still on the table?

An icy shiver ran down Elliott’s back, and he flinched where he sat. He slid his hand around the back of his neck and gulped another wave of saliva. Nothing was there, yet when he exhaled, he shuddered again. Shayne’s talk about Madelyn must have wormed its way into Elliott’s mind. Lord, he really was a mess.

He glanced down to make sure his sudden jump hadn’t disturbed Shayne. It was hard to tell if the boy was sleeping or just trying very hard to stay still. At least he didn’t seem to be panicked or shaking anymore. Elliott desperately wanted to stand up and walk around; moving and distracting himself would surely ease the building pain in his stomach, but he didn’t think he could get up without jostling Shayne.

Sucking in a breath and trying to brace his stomach for the move, Elliott shifted his weight on the sofa, cringing at how much the cushions flexed with him. He watched Shayne’s head, his breath still caught somewhere between his belly and his lungs. Another trickle of unpleasantly cool sweat ran down the back of his neck and his hands shook until he dropped the weight of his head into them. His elbows felt unbalanced on his knees. His stomach flipped, and he swallowed measuredly against its protests.

“El?”

“Yeah,” Elliott choked out, though he’d meant to give a friendly, open yeah? As in Felix’s chirpy Yeah, buddy? Are you okay? What can I do for you?

“Y’alright?” was all Shayne replied with.

“I’m good, yeah.” Upon tasting blood and bile, Elliott gulped again. “Just relax, okay? No one’s going to –”

Elliott jammed a fist against his lips in time to stifle a wet, shallow belch. The sound was so sudden and violent that his head shot forward, almost ducking between his own knees.

“Fuck,” Shayne gasped, scrambling upright despite the fact his eyes were barely open. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Elliott half-snapped, annoyance at himself manifesting as annoyance at Shayne. “I may have pushed myself a bit this morning, but I’m –”

He was once again cut off by a belch, this one rumbling up from much deeper inside him. His belly continued bubbling even after the air stopped being pushed up.

“El, I think you need to –”

“Don’t.” Elliott shook his head.

“Why did –” Shayne winced slightly and rubbed at his head. “Why didn’t you say you were feeling sick?”

“Because I was trying to look after you!” Elliott sighed into his hands. The tiny burst of frustration was dizzying on top of everything else. “Lord fucking knows you can’t take care of yourself.”

“Fuck you,” Shayne said back, though his voice was empty of any of its usual fight. “I’m – I’m trying, I’ve been trying… Elliott, just go to the sink!”

Elliott’s shoulders rolled as he covered his mouth with his palm, feeling a thick film grow over his tongue. He was tempted to swallow it down again but a cramp ripped through his gut, making all of his organs squeeze in defiance of him swallowing anything.

“Shit,” he somehow mumbled, sitting forward and pushing himself to his feet as Shayne pushed – weakly but with good intentions – at his back to help him up. Elliott sprinted across the kitchen tiles and flung himself at the sink, stars in his vision and blood in his mouth. He was unbearably dizzy as he heaved up what he’d drank that morning. At least it had been an animal-blood day, and he wasn’t watching mouthfuls of human blood pooling in the sink and trickling into the drain.

It was a waste, but it could have been worse. He choked on a sob, realising he’d never thought like this until Felix.

“Fuck,” Elliott gasped when something moved next to him. He hadn’t even noticed Shayne following him to the sink. “Christ. I feel awful… Why – why do I feel this bad?”

“You’re trying to force something you’re not capable of.” Shayne folded his arms and rested them on the countertop, eyes falling shut again.

Elliott spat bitterly towards the drain. “How the fuck do you figure that?”

“Because that’s my whole life summed up, El.”

Elliott gripped the neck of the tap and turned it on, directing the water around the sink to get rid of the mess he’d made. His head was spinning and his nerves still felt alive with electricity and just wrong in general, but his belly felt a lot better. He felt like he could breathe normally again.

“You okay?”

“I think so.” Elliott rinsed his mouth, running tap water into his palm and lifting it to his lips. It was cool, and soothing on his throat after the retching.

Shayne looked positively miserable as their eyes met. “What now?”

As he shut off the tap, Elliott brushed a wet hand across the back of his own neck, relishing the cold drip that started trailing down his back. He shut his eyes, feeling like he was ready to drift off to sleep on his feet, like a horse.

“Well,” he said, “how would you like to take a nap on a really nice mattress?”

[willadisastercry]

Keith relapsing and not being able to stop once he starts... pt 2

(((( Once again: please, please, please read the trigger warnings and proceed with caution before reading this. I vividly describe Keith’s internal struggle after he relapses... if anything even remotely regarding self harming or someone discovering a person who has is sensitive to you I HIGHLY RECOMMEND YOU DONT READ ))))

tw: in depth depiction of acting on self harm ideations/urges, scars, relapsing, becoming ill from blood loss, someone discovering a person after they relapse, rationalizing their self harm because the alternative is suicide, contradicting oneself and later very much deciding they would rather be unalived, panic attack symptoms, reopening a wound, allusion to surgery (stitches)

Keith is still very out of it after having a full fledged panic attack and the last thing he wants is to invite another spectator into the mix to watch him devolve further. So Shiro agrees to do something he hasn’t had to do in a very long time... courtesy of his battlefield medicine training.

Also again... YES klance and NO klance. You can interpret it however but their questioningly less and less ‘no homo’ behavior uh certainly ramps up and I suggest that they’ve had certain discussions/interactions before... definitely still not the main focus of this fic but there for context bc it just happened that way.

Part 1 / Part 2

The tension in the air was palpable as it hung on all of them. Lance watched Shiro’s entire body visibly relax, the grimace on his face the only tell that he was working through something in his mind, remembering something unpleasant.

Keith’s wimper pulled both boys back after a minute of terrible silence.

Several of the hardest cuts to close had broken free of the glue that held them and were gushing steadily. Keith was paling by the minute as he continued to breathe rapidly and tremble as if he was cold despite the sweat on his forehead.

He just wanted this to be over. To finally be asleep where at least then he could pretend that it had never actually happened and it was just a horrible dream.

Without saying anything more Shiro pressed the bandage back to his side and moved Lance’s hand to hold pressure there while he stood up and scanned the room, his eyes landing on Keith’s towel. It was hardly even damp then with how much time had passed since Keith had finished his shower.

“Keith, I know you’re not going to want me to,” he started with his jaw set as he pulled Keith towards him for a moment to lay the towel beneath him despite his meager protests.

“...but I have to tell Coran so that he can—“

He stopped when Keith let out a desperate whine as he released his hand from his mouth to tug on Shiro’s arm, his fingers digging in like he was trying to anchor them to something so he didn’t drift away as his chest started working double time.

“No. You can’t! You’re n-not t-tell-telling him.”

“Keith, I know that this is—“

“No, you dont,” Keith rasped, “you d-don’t know anything and you c-can-can’t tell Coran.”

The fear in his wide eyes was enough to make Lance want to cry for the umpteenth time that night, his chest hitching painfully as he pleaded with Shiro, getting himself more worked up as he did.

“Calm down, buddy. You know how this works. You know we have to get you fixed up.”

He shook his head back and forth as Shiro tried to rationalize with him.

“Keith,” he paused with a lengthy sigh because the last thing he wanted was to do something that Keith didn’t want him to do.

“Keith it’s bad. You need stitches, we have to.”

His purple saucers met Shiro’s grey pinpoints for a long moment, fear and desperation glistening in Keith’s and making Shiro want to pull him up into a bone crushing embrace.

“Then y-you do it...” he all but whispered through a heave as he tried to take in enough air to satisfy the ache in his chest so he could talk.

“Ke—“

“You’ve d-done-done i-it-it before Sh-Sh-Shi—fuck. P-please, j-j-ju-just-just-j—“

“Okay,” Shiro agreed, his voice pitching higher as he tried to assuage the budding panic evident in Keith’s anguished expression and worsening trembling.

“Hey, it’s okay. I will. Shhh, I will.”

He repeated the words religiously after Keith began to choke on his own, his face reeling with frustration when the full body trembling made him unable to get a proper sentence out and the effort of trying sent him spiraling further.

Shiro carded his hand through Keith’s still damp hair as his hands rose back up to his face, his feet kicking against the bed as the terrible dropping feeling worked its way through his stomach, gasping as it did. Lance watched in horror as Shiro tried to comfort him but any point of contact made Keith struggle harder.

He absolutely hated being so vulnerable, so reliant on others in such a fragile state. He knew he sorely needed the affection but his body instinctively cringed away from their touches, at war with itself as his mind lied to him, told him he was pathetic for needing such a thing. Another part wanting to melt into even the faintest brush against his shuddering body. All while feeling the consequences of losing a pretty descent amount of blood, the loss fogging his mind to a point that made it immeasurably harder to not succumb to panic, especially since he was still bleeding.

It was truly the perfect storm and he hated every second of it.

His lungs felt like they were being dripped dry of every ounce of oxygen in them as the phantom sensation of spinning returned and disordered his heaving breaths further as he fought the urge to vomit. The bone deep exhaustion seemed to be rather helpful then, the physical symptoms of his anxiety fizzling out in minutes as he quite literally just lacked the faculties to accommodate them.

“I’m right here, Keith,” Shiro assured when his grip on his arm tightened and then wavered as he began to sink back into the mattress, his hands settling restlessly on his chest as they shook.

“That’s it, you’re alright.”

Shiro griped his shoulder securely now, the metal of his prosthetic arm weighing with an oddly pleasant pressure on Keith as his whole body shook still.

Closing his eyes seemed a tad less dangerous once he could breathe somewhat regularly again and the intense dizziness had somewhat dissipated. They were also swollen like hell and heavy from all the crying so shutting them became less of an active choice then as well.

Lance’s hand moved to his leg after a beat, just to peek and make sure that those wounds hadn’t met a similar fate. He watched as Shiro’s face dropped when he saw the second wrapping, swallowing thickly and shifting where he sat on the edge of the bed to speak to Lance.

“Will you get him to eat something while I go grab a few things?”

He nodded and made his way to the forgotten tray of snacks he’d nabbed as Shiro took off for supplies. The sobbing had died down after the climax of his panic did but the tears didn’t seem to ever dry up, evident from the sniffling every few minutes as he tried to clear his airways.

“Hey,” Lance nudged his arm where it had moved to cover his blotchy face again, “why don’t you sit up a little, gotta eat something...”

He didn’t even try, just shook his head.

“N-nauseous,” he stuttered, the shaking impossibly infuriating as he tried to relax enough to do anything other than cry.

“Hmmm, well you could also have juice, I can water it down a little. That sound doable?”

He just sighed and Lance took his indifference as a ‘whatever’ and went ahead anyway, nudging him again when he had a modified juice pouch for him.

“You don’t have to sit up all the way, there’s a straw,” Lance noted when Keith tried to raise himself up on shaking arms before they gave out. He grunted defeatedly and tried to scooch back on bent elbows and sit up that way but found he didn’t have the core strength then to do that either.

“Here, what if I...” Lance mused with a shy smile as he moved to pull Keith up enough to slide in behind him, bringing the pouch up to his lips where his now propped up head rested securely in the crook of his arm, still racked by tremors but seemingly more at ease with the contact.

“That better?”

Keith didn’t answer, just sucked on the straw of the pouch like he was dying of dehydration. By the time he’d finished the pouch Shiro was walking through the automatic door with a whoosh that startled Keith, his breathing picking back up as he nestled his head further into Lance’s arm like he was trying to hide under it.

“He finished some juice,” Lance stated proudly as Shiro laid out the haul of medical supplies he brought back.

“That’s good, something solid would be better though. Hm, how bout the bread?” Shiro asked, walking back over to the tray and picking up a roll from the batch Hunk had made with a type of alien wheat they’d found.

Keith grumbled but took it from Shiro’s outstretched hand because he knew that he wouldn’t be able to win that debate, but more because he knew what was coming next and he wanted that more than anything.

“What?! You just give in for Shiro but with me it’s like pulling teeth? I’m offended, mullet. Deeply offended,” Lance scoffed and Keith made a noise as he bit into the bread begrudgingly.

“It’s not personal, he just knows not to be stubborn unless he wants to be awake while I stitch him up.”

Lance’s heart sunk impossibly further into his chest because Shiro had fully found him like that before... and done this exact thing after. This wasn’t new to either of them.

God he wanted to cry too.

Once Keith had made a sizeable dent in the roll from the dinner he’d missed Shiro handed him three pills of which Lance assumed were some variant of a sleep aid that took him a while to swallow with how choppy he was breathing still. The high sort of buzz had never really gone away and only worsened when his anxiety took over, leaving him both feeling floaty and trapped in a constant state of shaking.

Lance tried to comfort him now that he seemed more receptive to being touched, tracing light circles on the shoulder not tucked against him and leaving his other hand out where he could reach it in case he needed something to squeeze.

In the time being Shiro had set up a sterile tray for what looked like a literal fish hook and a whole bunch of gauze. Oh, jeez. Lance wasn’t sure he could stomach watching and tried to manifest being able to just hold Keith in his arms while Shiro worked, ya know for moral support. For Keith obviously.

“How ya doing? Tired yet?” Shiro inquired as he continued to ready the tray, fiddling with bottles of medicine similar to what Lance had used before.

“Mhmm, getting... sleepy,” he slurred, his trembling dying down a bit as the medicine helped his body relax.

“Good,” Shiro let out a hollow laugh at the way he sounded like a kid again, “Lance will you let me know when he’s out?”

The altean medicine was working quickly, aided by the fact that he was already utterly spent and leaving his eyes fluttering as his breathing evened out. He didn’t want to fall asleep still worked up or he’d probably be restless, maybe even come to and be more disoriented than before. So he dragged out the relief of slowly being pulled to sleep by the flick of Lance’s fingers on his arm, forcing his eyes to remain open as long as he could manage.

“Yep, shouldn’t be long,” Lance noted when Keith let out a hissing yawn and turned his face towards Lance’s chest, his cheek resting against the squishiest part he could find and making Lance stifle a gasp.

Keith wasn’t known for being cuddly and the gesture, though not really a conscious one, made Lance’s stomach flutter. He wasn’t able to dwell on it long though because Shiro was addressing him again.

“Can you pinch his arm...?”

Lance obliged and Keith didn’t make a sound.

“Perfect, okay, you won’t get squeamish will you?”

“Uh... glue is a bit different than a needle but even that sort of freaked me out.”

“Alright then, you can clean and dissolve what opened up while I handle what’s already free,” Shiro determined as he ushered the familiar supplies closer to Lance.

He took up the needle which was already threaded and sighed heavily before pulling Keith’s desk chair flush up against the bed.

“Help me get him more on his side.”

They managed to by Lance pulling him by the shoulders and more onto his lap as Shiro pushed.

Shiro breathed deeply then, something in his eyes flickering as he removed the soaked through bandage from the younger boy’s hip. His entire side coated again, the skin visibly raised and puffy.

Lance took up the wound wash and showed it to Shiro who nodded, bringing the towel up to catch the excess liquid as he poured. Once he’d sopped up what had bled again Shiro started with the widest gash, the hardened glue was easy to pull off with how horribly it had been secured over such a large area. Lance looked elsewhere, focusing on removing the glue from the other reopened wounds.

Shiro operated like a robot after that, known quite literally for a precise hand but what happened next took that generalization to a whole other level. His fingers moved swiftly, tying off stitches almost faster than Lance could wash out the gashes but definitely quicker than he could remove the blue tinted glaze. He had to scrub and scrape at the substance from the open wounds, the bloody mess they’d become making the task harder than it ought to have been.

In actuality only a few had reopened, but they were also the deepest. Some of them took upwards of five stitches, others two or three. The proximity of them to each other, especially to ones that were still glued, made it difficult for Shiro to figure out where to place the needle.

They were done after ten or so minutes but when Shiro sat back to analyze his work, he frowned.

“What’s up?” Lance questioned dubiously.

Shiro didn’t answer, just brought his hand down to examine the glue that was barely holding about a dozen more wounds together. They’d grown darker, the amount of red beneath the generous amount of blue visibly greater than the lesser wounds as more blood gathered and threatened to burst out as well.

“Some of these look like they’re about to go too, they haven’t clotted. I don’t think they’d heal right if I don’t stitch them up, they’d leave worse, uh—worse scars.”

Lance nodded transfixedly, not sure if his heart could take hearing more things like that, more direct acknowledgments of how one of his best friends had hurt himself so badly... how it hadn’t been the first time... how he couldn’t make sure it was the last if even Shiro had failed to.

“-nce. Lance, hey, don’t let me lose you now. I need you to work on dissolving the rest of the glue,” Shiro said, his tone gentle again as he brought Lance back from the depths of his weary mind.

“Right,” he affirmed more for himself as he brought the dissolving liquid back down while Shiro rethreaded his needle.

Opening a just about to burst wound was admittedly a lot harder on Lance’s stomach than freeing one that had already. There was so much more blood because when he was done with one side it’d spring open and pool immediately as he fought to dissolve the rest before it spilled out and got everywhere.

Both of them were coated then, the only saving grace that kept Lance’s nerves at bay was Shiro having the forethought to have them both wear gloves, but that just made it seem like a literal operation. And with the amount of black threading Keith back together it was seeming more like one each horrible minute it droned on.

Shiro had lost his vest and jacket somewhere around the third time he had to rethread his needle, Lance’s discarded too after some time, both of them uncomfortably warm as they poured over stitching Keith back together.

Oh, oh god.

That did it for him.

Lance huffed shakily and turned his head away as he nearly lost it again over how much he wished he could do more than just help heal his wounds, he wanted to mend every one of his broken pieces, put the parts of him back together that you couldn’t see.

He couldn’t stand the thought of slapping a bandage on what had happened and ever going about normally again.

“Lance...”

Shiro looked at him with sorry eyes, wanting to hug him as he blinked back tears but Keith was very much preventing that from being possible.

“I’m okay, sorry—it’s just a lot.”

“I know. We’re almost done if that helps, just need to finish up on this one and then I want to take a quick look at his leg,” Shiro offered as he got back to the gash that was almost closed.

“It wasn’t as bad, only a few were deep,” Lance noted, his eyes glossy as they stared at Shiro’s busy hands, not even registering the way they pulled on Keith’s skin as they tied off the last knot.

Shiro nodded, sneaking a worried glance over at Lance who didn’t meet his gaze as he finished applying an ungodly amount of tape over top the gauze he’d put on the area. He then manhandled Keith’s leg so he could get at his thigh.

Lance looked down at his arms. There wasn’t much blue of the medical gloves on his hands showing, blood smeared past even that and up his arms. He hurriedly yanked at them, peeling one off within the other and folding the outer one over itself.

“Just toss it, I’ll clean this all up later.”

Shiro suggested noticing how dangerously close Lance was to unraveling and hoping to delay it until he could actually help.

He was right though, only a handful required stitches and half as many as the ones on his hip had needed at that. Shiro was done in record time, taking over Lance’s job of removing the glue and cleaning up the mess that followed, finishing by wrapping a thicker bandage around his leg and taping it in place.

When Shiro finally sat back and started to clean up he was dimly aware that Lance was silently crying and had scooted further down the bed to hold Keith more securely in his arms. Though he was definitely out he had never fully stopped shaking, but now it seemed more like a nervous system response to the nowhere near healthy amount of blood he’d lost. Lance moved his hands up and down his arm in attempt to soothe him anyway.

Shiro brought the throw blanket at the foot of the bed over the two of them after he’d removed all of the trashed medical supplies from it. Lance’s eyes had fluttered shut but were open now.

“He shouldn’t be up anytime soon but you look wiped, figured you’d want to stay...”

He nodded absently, eyes bleary but understanding as Shiro moved about the room for a little before sitting down at the foot of the bed.

“I’ll handle talking to him about all this tomorrow but in the case that he isn’t entirely dead to the world when the morning drill alarm goes off, tell him that he is not only excused but barred from training and piloting Red until his stitches are out.”

Lance just nodded again and yawned, pulling the blanket over the rest of his upper body.

“And Lance... “

He eyed Lance with a sort of fondness then.

“I know how fucked up tonight was, it couldn’t have been easy. You didn’t have to help him, you could’ve just gotten me, but you did. And I don’t know what kind of headspace he’ll be in when he wakes up but I do know he’ll be grateful you were there for him... even if he has a funny way of showing it.”

The lump in Lance’s throat bobbed threateningly, his eyes stinging again as he whispered a meak ‘thanks’ as Shiro stood up and leaned closer to ruffle his perfect hair before he turned to leave, shutting the lights off before he did.

[creepy-bi-day]

Champion Cody

TW: porn, humiliation, slight public???, choking, Uber confident boy

@subby-anon I’m channeling my inner brat/teasing bitch for this.

By the time Cody managed to find someone to sell him an acceptable outfit, it was getting dark.

The two of you made your way to Gerudo Town, avoiding anything ‘shiny’, much to your embarrassment. He tugged at his sleeves, muttering under his breath as he continuously adjusted his veil.

“Maybe you should leave the talking to me,” you said with a grin. His emerald gaze shot to your own, raising an eyebrow in question. “You don’t sound like a girl, even if you kind of look like one right now.”

“I what,” he hissed, narrowing his gaze. You giggled.

“Isn’t that the point? To look like a girl so you can sneak in?”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes as you neared the gate. You blinked at the two guarding it, swallowing thickly.

They were massive.

You’d seen a few Gerudo around, but these two were absolutely stunning. Tall, well muscled, and laced with scars.

“Sa’votta,” you squeaked, drawing both of their attention. One of the two smiled warmly down at you.

“Sa’votta,” she said softly. “Not very often we see Hylian vai coming to visit anymore.”

You nodded, watching as Cody crossed his arms, clearing his throat before striding through the gate. You smiled apologetically at the two before hurrying to catch up with him.

“Cody,” you hissed. “We’re supposed to be acting normal.”

He grunted in response, eyes locking on a small building before making his way towards it.

Hotel Oasis.

Was he tired already?

When you neared the counter, he glanced at you, silently telling you that you were both spending the night.

“One bed for tonight?” You asked shyly, tugging your coin purse from your pocket. Cody snorted, the noise making you tense at the deep tone. He tugged his own leather pouch out, slipping a few brightly colored gems onto the desk.

The woman blinked, watching the exchange.

“Rooms are upstairs,” she said slowly, taking the payment and slipping a few of the extras in her pocket. “Any door that’s unlocked is fair game. When would you like to be woken up?”

“Noon,” you answered, resulting in a raised eyebrow from the Champion.

As you made your way up the stairs, you felt a hand tangle in your hair, jerking your head back as you tried to hold a yelp back. Cody shifted the cloth around his mouth, biting down on your neck before whispering softly.

“If I look so much like a girl, let’s see if I fuck like one, too.”

His hand grasped one of the door handles, tugging it open as he pushed you inside. He kicked the door closed, tugging off the veil and dropping it to the floor with a look of disgust as he ran his hand through his hair.

“Fuck that thing,” he muttered, turning his attention back to you. His gaze trailed over your body before resting on the large mattress in the center of the room. It seemed to be the only piece of furniture in the bedroom. “Lay down, now.”

You felt your face heat at the tone, quickly obeying the order as you tugged off your own clothing. Dropping the sweat drenched tunic to the ground, you heard him hum in approval.

“Never get tired of seeing you like this,” he cooed, slipping out of his top. You giggled at how small the fabric looked next to the wool clothing you had dropped. He wrapped a hand around your throat at that, glaring down at you. “Something funny?”

“No,” you squeaked, wrapping your hands around his large wrist. “No, Sir. I’m sorry-“

“Good.”

He tugged at your pants, slipping them off and tugging your shoes off along with them before he finally sat completely on the bed. He knelt above your stomach, looking down at you thoughtfully before he moved.

You’d never get over how fast he was.

He quickly moved your positions, gripping your hips tightly to pull you on top of him as he laid back on the bed.

“I’m tired,” he started, a slow grin tugging at his lips. “Killing shit for my cute little vai is tough work. So, why don’t you do the work tonight?”

You stared down at him for a minute, cheeks tinted a bright pink as your ears flattened against your head. He raised an eyebrow at that, staring at you as he waited for an answer.

“Yes, sir,” you managed, tugging the brightly colored fabric past his hips.

If you were being honest, you’d say you’d been waiting for this for a week now.

The small inn at the oasis didn’t have much privacy, and you definately weren’t going to have sex in the sand. You’d become needy, desperate even.

It’s not your fault, though, right?

Who wouldn’t want to have the Hylian Champion wrapped around their finger?

Cody’s hands tightened around your hips, watching you expectantly. You placed your hands on his stomach, digging your bitten nails into the muscle.

“Hey,” he started, blinking up at you. “Don’t you need to stretch-“

He cut himself off with a sharp hiss of air as you rubbed against him, covering his length in your wetness as he leaned his head back against the pillows. Cody stared up at you through his lashes, grinding his teeth as he held fast on your hips.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he managed, breath catching as you continued a slow, teasing rock of your hips. You had his hard-on pressed between the two of you, rocking slowly against it as you worked yourself up.

“I won’t,” you teased lightly. “If I do, it’ll be worth it to be filled by my hero.”

“Your hero?” He mused, grinning evilly up at you. “Oh, I like the sound of that.”

You didn’t bother responding to him, lifting up slightly to guide him inside your sopping core.

It really had been a minute.

You whined at the stretch, slowly lowering yourself on him as he pressed his head against the pillows, biting his lip as he tried to breathe.

“Fuck,” he whined, the tone almost completely out of character as you finally pressed completely against him. “Fuck, did you get tighter?”

“Did you get bigger?” You shot back, drawing a snort from him. Cody opened his eyes halfway, gaze trailing over your form as you sat on top of him.

“You going to move?”

“I kind of like the view, actually,” you couldn’t help yourself. You had to tease him. Cody’s smile dropped, gaze narrowing as he sat up, securing his arms around your back. A startled yelp left your lips as he flipped your positions for the second time that night.

Cody sat back, resting on his knees as he slid his hands down your body.

He looked almost magical.

His hair was plastered against his face, sweat dripping from his nose onto his chest. His torso was cut, almost chiseled and decorated with scars. The faint light let your gaze travel down the muscle in his arms, following the smooth skin down to his hands as they held your hips in a bruising grip.

“Ready?” He asked, tone gentle and soft. You shot him a grin, squirming in his grasp to draw a choked noise from him.

“Are you?”

He curled his lip at that, glaring down at you before curling himself around you. Pulling almost completely out, he snapped his hips forward, burying himself inside your dripping core once again.

Your hands flew to his shoulders, digging your blunt nails into the solid muscle as he continued his brutal pace. You desperately tried to be quiet, burying your face in his neck.

You loved it when he was like this.

When he was more focused on showing you who you belonged to.

When he was more focused on chasing his own high.

Honestly, it made you feel wonderful.

Cody panted softly in your ear, breathy groans breaking the silence as he used you. You felt like a toy; you felt like something he could break.

You were snapped from your drooling daydreams as he reached a hand down, pressing his thumb against your clit and dragging it in slow, teasing circles.

“Cody!” You yelped, quickly quieting yourself as you bit your lip hard enough to draw blood. He grinned down at you, panting and dripping sweat on your smaller form.

“Again,” he breathed. “Say it again.”

“Cody,” you whined, lip sliding from between your teeth as his pace became frantic. The knot in your stomach had grown almost unbearably as he bent to secure his lips around yours. Your hand slid to tangle in his ebony locks, tugging him closer into the kiss.

When he pressed against your clit while angling his hips to hit something just inside your core, you couldn’t stop the strangled cry that left your throat. Cody swallowed the noise with a groan, shivering as you tightened around him.

The feeling of your release was enough to send him over the edge, burying himself as far inside your core as he could as he came. You jumped at that, the sharp pain in your stomach momentarily overclouding the pleasure as he managed to press just a bit too deep.

You both panted for a moment, Cody pulling back to let you breathe.

“Y/n,” he said quietly, supporting himself with one arm before cupping your cheek with the other. “I love you.”

You blinked, eyes widening at the three words.

You’d been through so much together. Ever since he met you in Hateno Village, he’d been someone you’d found comforting. Someone you trusted.

You’d come a long way from begging him to take you with him; from begging to go on adventures.

You felt your face break out in a smile, placing your hands gently on his cheeks as you leaned up to press a kiss against his lips.

“I love you, Cody,” you managed. He visibly relaxed at that, breathing out a sigh he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Now, let’s get sleep, okay? I’m beat and its getting cold-“

“Whatever you say,” he shrugged, sliding himself from your core before flopping down on the bed beside you. He squirmed, tugging the comforter out from underneath him without standing. “Now, come here, little prince(ss).”