#it makes my heart sore into deep space

[1980ssunflower]

i wish i could kiss my ryan rn

[xhyjin]

husband gojo! who turns into “the neediest” after a long day of being “the strongest” the moment he walks through the door. his blindfold or glasses are tossed aside because, to him, you’re no sight for sore eyes; he wants nothing obstructing his view of you. he’s immediately all over you, clinging to you like a lifeline. and when you groan, “toru, i need my personal space,” he only grins and murmurs, “i need your personal space too, baby,” before wrapping his long legs around you, nearly making you stumble and fall with him still stubbornly attached, laughing like it’s the best part of his day. (it is)

husband gojo! who, ever since you baked him a birthday cake once, fell head over heels for your baking. now, it’s a tradition; he refuses to have a birthday cake unless it’s made and decorated by you. this extends to his sweet tooth cravings too; whenever he comes across random dessert recipes on his phone, he immediately sends them your way with an innocent “doesn’t this look good?” even if you’ve never seen or heard of the dessert before. he’ll hover around the kitchen, sneaking peeks and stealing tastes, grinning like a kid because there’s nothing sweeter to him than something made by your hands.

husband gojo! who absolutely loves when you spend his money. it takes you a while to get comfortable using it because you feel bad, but he always reassures you with a grin, “my money is your money, sweetheart. it’s all gonna be spent on you anyway.” he gets genuinely excited when you come home from a shopping trip or when packages arrive at the door, practically glowing with pride. seeing you spoiled and happy makes him feel like he’s doing something right. his favorite part, though, is when you give him a haul, showing off everything you bought and trying on all your new clothes just for him. he’ll sit back, arms crossed with the biggest smirk on his face, and say, “damn, I knew my money looked good on you.”

husband gojo! who is so, so, so protective of you that sometimes he just wants to keep you home, away from the outside world, where nothing can touch you. he’s spent his whole life as nothing but a weapon for jujutsu society, and all he wants now is to keep you safe, to shield you from everything. when you’re out together, his arm is always wrapped securely around your waist or draped over your shoulder, a silent reminder to everyone that you’re his to protect. dates are rarely in public—he prefers private, intimate places or the comfort of home, where he knows you’re safe in his arms. he’ll even insist on teaching you self-defense, but the lesson always ends the same: him pinning you down, a smirk on his face as he attacks you with kisses, murmuring, “looks like you’re still defenseless against me.”

husband gojo! who quite literally steals your entire personality. the moment you say a new phrase or pick up a habit, he’s quick to latch onto it, memorizing it like it’s second nature. by the next day, he’s already using it effortlessly, as if it’s always been part of his vocabulary. when you catch him doing it, he just shrugs with a small grin, “what can I say? you’re my favorite person—I can’t help it.” he admires you so much that your quirks and habits naturally become his own.

husband gojo! who sometimes tries to scare you in the mornings by hovering over you, his face so close that the first thing you see when you open your eyes are his deep blue eyes staring wide into yours. it always makes you jolt awake, your hands flailing as you instinctively poke or smack him in surprise. he’ll laugh, completely unfazed, pulling back just enough to grin down at you with a playful, “good morning, sleepyhead. miss me?” even when you scold him for nearly giving you a heart attack, he just chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead like it’s the most natural way to start his day.

husband gojo! who, just like he steals your personality, also steals your scent and fashion. if you have a favorite perfume, he’s either hunting down the “manly” version of it or shamelessly spritzing yours when you’re not looking. and when it comes to clothes, he’ll buy the exact same pieces you own—just a few sizes bigger so they suit him. it’s not even subtle; he’ll walk out wearing a sweater that’s just like yours, grinning proudly when you notice. “what? we match. it’s cute,” he says, completely unapologetic, because to him, there’s nothing better than being a reflection of the person he loves most.

husband gojo! who’ll dye a small streak of his snow-white hair your favorite color just to surprise you. he keeps it subtle and tucked away, hidden so well that no one else would even notice unless they were running their fingers through his hair—and no one gets that close but you. sometimes he changes it when your favorite color shifts, always paying attention to the little details that make you smile. when you do find it, gently brushing his hair aside, he grins at you softly and says, “figured I’d keep a piece of you with me.”

husband gojo! who genuinely tries his best to make time for you, despite how often he gets called away for missions. sometimes days pass without him seeing you, and the distance wears on him more than he'd ever admit. when he finally comes home, the moment he sees you, he's on his knees, pressing kisses to every inch of your body, mumbling softly between each one about how much he missed you. "missed you so much, baby... couldn't stop thinking about you," he whispers against your skin, his voice laced with exhaustion and love. it's in moments like these-when he's been deprived of your warmth and attention-that he starts to second-guess being a jujutsu sorcerer at all. because no mission, no battle, could ever compare to being with you.

husband gojo! who drops everything the second he steps through the door after a grueling three-day mission, exhaustion forgotten the moment he sees you standing there, holding out a small gift box. confusion turns to shock as he opens it, and inside, a positive pregnancy test. for a moment, the world stops; his heart races, his breath catches, and then it hits him: he has a family now.

husband gojo! who doesn’t even hesitate. right then and there, he decides he can’t be both a sorcerer and a father. he refuses to miss a single pregnancy milestone, a single moment with you or his child, because of his work. the next day, he quits. the elders, the Gojo clan, they can pester him, manipulate him, lecture him about “duty” and “protecting the country,” but he won’t budge. “It’s my duty to protect my family,” he’ll say firmly, his hand resting on your growing belly. no one will take him away from you and the life you’re building together.

[satinestales]

❝erotic melancholia❞ | qimir x reader

pairing: qimir x reader

summary: healing your wounds and sore muscles took longer than expected, so qimir decided to offer you his bathtub in the middle of his cave. along with some side offerings.

warnings: this is more of a short scribble so if you decide to jump in, have a nice stay and enjoy the food, starring very soft and gentle qimir - something to relax to i guess, soft physical touch, sensual touches, comfort, massage?

this is very comforting and romantic, i'd say so all you horndogs can move, with love <3 this is how i want osha and qimir to interact once, GIVE ME THEM FOREHEAD TOUCHES

a/n: as i was writing this a fucking spider dropped on me from the ceiling- i may have had a heart attack and i pissed my pants a little

now playing, 13 beaches by lana del rey

The echo of dripping water resonated through the dimly lit cave, mingling with the soft hum of distant waves crashing against the rocky shore outside. The natural formation of the cave walls created a snug, sheltered alcove where a makeshift bathtub had been fashioned from smoothed stones and lined with soft moss. Small glowing crystals embedded in the rock provided a gentle, otherworldly light that bathed the cavern in a warm, ethereal glow.

You stood at the entrance of the cave, your body aching from the skirmish with the Jedi knights earlier that day. Bruises and shallow cuts adorned your skin, and your muscles protested with every movement. Qimir knelt beside the stone tub, pouring a mixture of healing herbs and soothing oils into the steaming water, the aroma of exotic alien flowers, and restorative essences filling the air.

"I think it's ready now," he said, his voice echoing softly in the enclosed space. He looked up at you with concern etched in his features. "This should help with the soreness."

You managed a weary smile, your gratitude evident despite your exhaustion. "Thank you." You simply smiled, adoring Qimir from the other side of the cave. As much as you appreciated Qimir's work and his loyalty to you, you kept your distance. Even if your heart desired the opposite.

Qimir stood up, giving you space to approach the tub. You noticed he had even placed a new robe and new clothes. Looking at them as you made your way to them, you appreciated he matched your size and taste. You felt a surge of warmth dancing in your chest as you looked at him, his unspoken admiration clear in every thoughtful gesture.

He was beautiful in the dim lit cave, the light reflecting over his sharp features. You didn't want to push him away, but you weren't comfortable taking your clothes in front of him. You didn't mind him seeing you bare, but his stare as you'd take of your clothes made you uneasy and caused a strange feeling in your stomach.

As if he could read your thoughts, which he probably did, he apologised and made his way to the corner of the cave, to make you more comfortable.

"When you're ready, let me know." his voice echoed through the cave, startling you as you carefully took of your robe and pants, gently throwing them on the ground above the tub.

With a deep breath, you stepped into the warm water, the heat instantly beginning to soothe your battered body. You closed your eyes and let out a sigh of relief as the tension started to melt away.

Behind the corner of the cave, Qimir lingered for a moment, ensuring you were under the water before he spoke again.

"May I?" he asked, tenderness in his voice. Smile creeped its way to your lips, his voice warming you more than the water around you.

You opened your eyes and gave him a small nod. "You may."

As he appeared again, he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that familiar, adorable way.

As he quietly entered the cave, the sounds of the island and the soft hum of the Force filled the space, you sank deeper into the tub. The warmth seeped into your bones, and for the first time in what felt like ages, you allowed yourself to relax, knowing you were safe and cared for in Qimir's hidden sanctuary.

Qimir slowly made his way around you to kneel down behind your back. You kept your eyes closed, dozing off in the warm water that melted your pain away. Slowly, you felt Qimir's hand reach your hair, lifting it up and gently braiding it into a small braid. As he finished your hair, he moved it to the side over your shoulder, leaving your back exposed.

"If you won't be comfortable with anything, tell me." He leaned to your ear, whispering, not wanting to startle you from your peaceful setting.

You murmured something back, too distracted by the comfort of it all. The water hugged and caressed your wounds, the chilliness of the cave and Qimir's hands slowly massaging your shoulders. You wanted to melt, and you were sure you were about to.

Qimir's fingers danced their way around your sore muscles, around your neck, and between your shoulder blades. You liked the way they made you feel relaxed and at peace, clearing your mind from intrusive thoughts. When he offered you his tub, you were sceptical at first and didn't want to listen to him. Now you were glad you did as for all the pain and soreness dissapered, melted into the water and Qimir's fingers.

You were so lost in his touch that you were unaware of the noises you began to make, Qimir's lips turning into a soft smile. He felt proud that he made you feel comfortable and safe after the rough day you went through. He secretly wanted to jump inside and enjoy the smells and hot water together, but he respected your privacy, acknowledging you weren't that familiar with each other yet.

He didn't mind. You were close to him, and that was all that mattered to him at that moment.

"Where did you learn to do this?" you asked out of nowhere, wanting to break the silence no matter how comforting it was. Qimir's voice felt way warmer.

"Friend of mine." he replied, not stopping his movements around your right shoulder blade. "She taught me a lot."

A small sting of jealousy ran through your heart as he mentioned the unknown being. You felt ridiculous. He was obviously very charming, and it would be stupid to think he didn't share himself with anyone over his life.

"She died a long time ago," he added, sensing the tension forming around you. If Qimir's hands didn't hold you in place, you'd sink yourself under the water.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, his hands now around your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You didn't hear him answer, and the urge to turn around and apologise again grew stronger with every passing second.

"You mentioned your arms hurting too," he spoke, changing the conversation. "Do you want me to take a look?" he stopped massaging your neck, but his hands never left your skin, letting them rest on your shoulder.

"If it won't bother you," you replied quietly, staring at your feet below the water.

"I wouldn't ask if it did," you heard him smile, his fingers moving in slow circles on your skin.

"You can jump in while you do it." You didn't know what magical force let you say your thoughts out loud, but it was too late. You felt redness overtake your face as the silence kept stretching.

"Do you want me to?" Qimir wanted to make sure he heard you right before stripping himself.

"I want you to fix my arms." You coughed, hoping he didn't marge into your head and read your thoughts as he pleased to do many times before.

You wanted to speak again as another silence took over, but Qimir's hands leaving your shoulders and the sound of his clothes dropping right next to yours shut you up.

At the moment you saw his bare ankles next to you, you dropped your gaze down, nervously playing with your hands below the water. You heard a splash when Qimir sinked into the water, the close proximity melting your thoughts away. You dared to look up at him, choking on the air.

His jawline and high cheekbones prominent in the light, his two small pigtails on the opposite side of his head exposing his forehead and sharp eyes. He was one of the most beautiful men you've ever seen and no matter how cliche it sounded in your head, you didn't dare to deny it.

His chest glittered as the droplets found his way around him, the water reaching to his hips. He was ethereal.

You notice a small smirk on his lips as he lets you brush your stare on him before reaching out for your arm underwater, his eyes never leaving yours. He could have dropped his gaze and look down. He would easily see through the water, but he didn't. Instead, he admired your face, his fingers dancing its way around your arm to find the tense muscles.

"What is your mask made of?" You genuinely wondered, wanting to ask since you saw it deactivate lightsabers. You watched him now concentrating on fixing your arm, his fingers moving in sharp but tender movements.

"Cortosis," his voice low and raspy, his presence intoxicating. He radiated warmth, beating the hot bath he prepared for you. "Like the one we used as younglings." he explained further, his hand reaching your bicep, making him move closer to you. If you'd extend your hand, you wouldn't be able to stretch it fully before meeting Qimir's chest. The proximity and soft touch drove you crazy.

"So it's just you and the Force," you added before he could finish his further explanation. Despite staring at his hands, you didn't miss the acknowledging look he gave you.

"And whatever you bring with you." he whispered, nodding his head, his eyes falling back to your arm. When he finished your right hand, he reached out for your left, but before he could do so, you hid both of your arms behind your back, looking up at him with amusement playing on your lips.

"And what do you bring there with you?" you wondered, your gaze dancing between his lips and his black eyes. His half lidded eyes made you switch position so you could press your legs together. He didn't miss it even tho he acted like he did.

"My partner, I hope." he tilted his head, trying to read your expression. Nodding, acknowledging his answer, you didn't move. You let your eyes drop to his chest, around his nipples, fown to his abdomen. And back up.

Nervously, you played with your fingers behind your back as the silence took its place again. But this time, it was different. The awkwardness vanished, and something else took over.

"Have you found one yet?" Your mind traced back to the person he mentioned a few minutes back, wondering if she was his partner and he lost her. Or maybe he never found one, forever wondering for someone to fill his soul.

"I think I may have." he replied, moving slowly towards you, the water hugging his torso. "But I'm not sure if the person found me."

He was right in front of you. You could swallow his breath. His deep, longing eyesz scanning yours, his lips partially opened. His hair loosened up, falling over his forehead.

"She did," you whispered back, letting his hand caress your cheek before meeting his lips with yours. The softness of his lips made your knees betray you, but his arms were there to catch you. Your hands moved from your back to rest against his chest, feeling his soft glow skin. Your fingers drew shapes around his scars, wanting to love and learn every single one. His arms wrapped around you tightly, bringing you even closer to him. Wanting to feel every inch of you.

Candles flickered around the cave, casting a soft, golden glow that danced with the shadows. The fragrance of the candles mingles with the warmth of the water, creating an atmosphere of serene tranquility.

You leaned back, enveloped by the soothing embrace of the water and Qimir's arms around you. His chest is firm and reassuring, his lips soft and sweet as you imagined clouds would feel. You felt his steady heartbeat, a reminder of their presence and yearning.

In that moment, all pain and worries melted away, replaced by a profound sense of peace and security. Qimir's arms were your sanctuary, always ready to catch you when you stumbled and to hold you when you needed it most.

The feeling was a blend of love and ecstasy, as if every touch and whispered word from Qimir's lips was a promise of unwavering yearning and affection. The chill in the air around you only enhanced the cozy, intimate warmth you shared, making this moment all the more precious.

You closed your eyes, surrendering to the blissful combination of the hot bath, the ambient candlelight, and the tender embrace of Qimir's lips. In his arms, you didn't find just comfort, but a profound, soulful connection that filled you with an enduring sense of peace and love.

[peppermintquartz]

Tommy POV

-

When Buck wakes up in the morning, it's to an empty bed again, and he almost freaks out until he hears movement in the kitchen downstairs.

Quietly pulling on his sweatpants, Buck creeps to the railing and watches Tommy moving around the space. His heart aches at the careful manner Tommy navigates the loft.

They never did get to talk about the breakup. Last night, Buck was too upset about Eddie and too overjoyed about Tommy to have coherent thoughts about anything. The moment he saw Tommy at the door, all he could think of was kissing him, and when Tommy didn't push him away, Buck dragged him to bed.

And Tommy was so thorough in their fucking - no, in their lovemaking - that Buck can still feel the soreness in the base of his spine. Tommy had once again shown up to give Buck what he needed and wanted.

But what does Tommy want?

For the first time in a long time, Buck realizes that he hasn't really thought about what his partners want from the relationship. Shame floods his cheeks.

Tommy always gives. When he wanted a tour of Harbor, when he wanted a second chance, when he wanted Tommy to come to a bachelor party despite being on call, when he wanted Tommy to be his date for Maddie's wedding. Even last night, when he wanted someone to be there for him, Tommy showed up and gave him what he wanted. Even the small, sweet acts of service: breakfasts in bed, fluffed pillows, gifts.

And Buck just took and took and took, reveling in the novelty of being provided and cared for so completely in a romance.

Maybe it's time he starts being more considerate of Tommy's needs and wants.

Clearly, Tommy doesn't want to move into the loft. After two weeks, Buck gets it. Tommy has a house, he has a nice garage, he has a Muay Thai setup.

Does Tommy want them to get back together? Was last night just a pity fuck? Is it commitment he's afraid of? Is marriage really off the table?

Tommy turns around and sees Buck. A fleeting moment of something odd passes over his face - vulnerability? yearning? - and then it's the familiar smile accompanying the tray of eggs and a few toasted slices of bread from one of the loaves in the fridge, along with fresh coffee.

"You want me to bring it up or do you wanna come down for it?" Tommy asks, setting the tray on the island.

"I'm coming down." Buck jogs down the stairs and goes straight to Tommy, placing his hands on Tommy's waist. He sees Tommy clenching his jaw. Taking a deep breath, Buck says, "I'm glad you're here."

Tommy leans in and touches noses with Buck. "Of course." His smile is lopsided. "What's with all the bread in the fridge?"

"I missed you, so I baked." Buck breathes Tommy in. His scent soothes a restlessness deep in Buck’s soul. "Every time I thought of contacting you, I baked. Chim and Hen are threatening to rip out my oven from the amount of baked goods I foisted on them."

Tommy chuckles. He sounds almost as if the breakup never happened. "Well, they get a reprieve now."

Buck wants to rip the mask off with his teeth. He settles for taking Tommy's hand and sitting beside him, the breakfast tray still on the island.

"Tommy, let's get one thing clear," he says. "I'm really, honestly glad you're here. But we have issues to work through." He takes a deep breath. "I want to work through them. Do you?"

To his credit, Tommy doesn't avert his gaze. But the smile fades and a haunted expression emerges. His hand jerks in Buck's grip - just a teeny bit - and he swallows convulsively.

Buck waits.

After a long moment, Tommy nods, once. "I don't... I don’t know if I know how to stay. Not if I don’t know whether you’ll want me."

"No, no you can't, and all I can say is, right now, the only future I want is one where I am with you." Buck clasps Tommy's left hand between both of his own. "But I wanna try, Tommy. And I need to know if you want to try too. Because... I know I jumped the gun and I said something that wasn't quite getting my point across. But I wanna try, with you. To make this relationship last."

Tommy is biting his lips. He can't seem to speak. To Buck’s tender shock, tears brim over and fall from stormy eyes. He tries to turn away but Buck catches his jaw in one large hand, holds him steady.

“Honey, it’s okay,” Buck croons, brushing the pads of his thumb over the tops of Tommy’s alpine cheekbones. “I have you. I’m here. Do you wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

Tommy forces a chuckle; the smile falls flat. “I’m hopelessly in love with you. And I don’t… I don’t want to… Good things don’t last, Evan. Not for people like me.”

Buck wants to go back in time to tear apart every single person who has made Tommy doubt himself so much. But Buck knows that platitudes will only sound empty; he himself has lost plenty of good things, and yes, good things don’t last forever.

“But some good things do last long enough,” Buck says. “And lots more people could stand to learn from people like you.”

“I’m not anyone special.”

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” Buck whispers. Brave and terrified. Strong and vulnerable. Giving and defensive. He has to cup Tommy’s cheek to keep eye contact. “And I’m willing to spend as much time as you’re willing to give me to show you.” He leans in and kisses Tommy, mouth closed, just a touch of lips to lips. “Are you willing?”

He waits and listens to Tommy’s breathing. He doesn’t know how long it takes, but for once, he’s not in a hurry. They’re in his loft, there’s freshly made breakfast, steam curls up from the mug of coffee. Tommy is here, warm and hesitant yet trusting.

He can wait. This is a good moment.

Finally, eventually, Tommy whispers, “Yes.”

The resulting kiss is swift and gentle. It is a promise to try: try to be considerate, try to be hopeful, try to be together for long enough that they forget how life was before them.

Maybe it is a promise of love.

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Don't you agree we need more A/B/O for love and deep space?

Omegaverse Scenarios with the Boys

Content warning: Omegaverse, jealousy, marking, scenting, fluff, mild sexual content, no pronouns, MORE ABO! MORE ABO!

Original Post

“You’re back.”

You whip your head around to see Xavier standing at the balcony door, looking serene as ever in the mid-morning light. The soft look the sunlight gives him brings a smile to your face. However, it quickly strains and breaks, collapsing into a frown as Xavier steps out onto the deck. There’s nothing scary about his demeanor; he seems calm as usual but there’s a subtle tension in the air that fogs heavy from him.

Wordlessly, Xavier scans you up and down, focusing on…something. You’re not sure what he’s searching for, but you suspect he’s found it when his forehead creases and his voice drops.

“Did you visit Philos while you were out?"

"How'd you guess?"

"You smell like Jeremiah,” Xavier concludes coldly, which causes you to hold on tighter to the little packet of plant food clutched between your hands. “What were the two of you doing?” he follows up; this time he fixes his face and flashes you that sweet smile.

You’re smart enough to not be fooled by the innocent expression he puts on whenever he tries to pry information out of you. However, you have nothing to hide and answer honestly.

“My friend has been sick, so I wanted to send her some flowers.”

“Is that all?”

"I also got plant food for the strawberries," you add, flashing the green packet of nutrients. 

"That's not what I meant."

Your suspicion tipped off, you raise your eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

Xavier closes in on you, each step making your heart pound as he boxes you in between himself and one of the large ceramic pots homing the strawberry plant. Raising your hands to your chest, your knuckles brush against the tassels of his hoodie as you try to make some space between the two of you. It's clear you have no room to run, and a part of you isn't sure you want to escape.

Xavier reaches out to you; his hand sweeps under the collar of your black turtleneck, sending jolts through your body when his fingertips hit the sore bruise in the soft junction of your neck. The way he immediately finds that tender target reminds you of the way he hunts down wanderers with precision, persistence, and unfortunately, pinpoint accuracy. Despite the severe shivers being coerced in your soul, it doesn’t frighten you as he traces around your scent gland.

“You’re practically shaking,” he mumbles, gripping the neck of your shirt and giving a gentle tug, exposing your bond mark. “Are you cold?”

“No," you answer immediately, watching his snooping hand from your periphery, "and don’t change the subject.”

“I’m not,” he says with a shake of his head as he continues to fumble with your clothing. “I was just wondering why you were so covered up.”

“There’s no reason,” you breathe out, distracted by the fierce concentration reflecting from dark pools of blue so different from the soft glimpses and angelic gazes he normally shares with you. They strike you so deeply, peering through you so sharply that memories from how the mark was made begin to flash through your mind, fumbling any other excuses you might have said.

“None at all?” he comments, making your face warm. “If the mark hurts, it’s nothing a hot bath won’t fix.”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“Then, why are you covering it up?” he asks; this game of cat and mouse quickly unravels when he brings up, “Did you not want Jeremiah to see it?”

“That’s not it,” you deny with a sigh, pushing his hand away.

You never understand how Xavier can be so jealous. Jeremiah is a friend to both of you; he has been for centuries from your understanding. Even if there was some point in those decades that Jeremiah possibly had feelings for you stronger than friendship, you didn’t hold those same feelings for him. You only desired to be bonded with one person, the one standing in front of you. Even when he was being a needlessly jealous dummy.

“It has nothing to do with him.”

“Do you not like the way it looks?” He questions instead, his demeanor softening only slightly with regret. With a slight blush, Xavier pouts and rubs the back of his neck. “I admit I was a little out of it when I did it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it! It’s pretty,” you finally yell, which causes him to clamp his mouth shut enough for you to explain better. “This is the first time anyone made a bond mark on me, and it’s a little embarrassing cause then everyone knows, we’re um…” you start to lose your concentration when he looms over you. You take a sudden step back, stopping only when the pot behind you threatens to fall over when you bump it. “Doing things…together.”

Chest aching, you hope your explanation is satisfactory. You never want to make him insecure but the idea of people knowing intimate details of your love life makes you sheepish.

“So, you don’t want him to know.”

“Xavier, did you not listen to what I said?”

“I did but isn’t what you said still a roundabout way of saying you’re hiding it?” He teases with a small laugh. There’s a pleased curve in the smile on his face and a shimmering light like stardust in his eyes; unbeknownst to you, that’s from knowing he’s the first and only one to ever mark you. How proud he would be if everyone was aware of that fact. “You don’t have to be embarrassed by something so natural. Everyone, especially him, should know you’re mine and I’m yours.” 

You open your mouth to protest but you’re interrupted by him grabbing your wrist in one hand to prevent you from squirming away as he hooks a finger into your turtleneck. Pulling your collar, he presses an open-mouth kiss to your bond mark then higher up to nip the soft flesh under your earlobe, higher until he's breathing into your ear. 

"I'll fix it," he murmurs and kisses your neck again and again until all you can make sense of is the heat blooming along your throat with each touch of his lips. 

His kisses lack his normal gentleness; they’re filled instead with a desire that makes your knees shake and buckle. You’d fallen if he hadn’t held you closer, squeezed you to him like letting go would be the end of him, as if he finds joy in feeling the aftershocks of your fluttering heart against your ribcage.

“Xavier, what are you-you-ah."

You desperately hold in the moan that builds up in your chest as he continues to bite into your skin and the sound of his kisses fills your ear smooch by smooch. Xavier chuckles against your flesh.

“Relax. I’m not going to do anything bad to you. I’m simply making a few minor adjustments to your  first  mark." He hums, tongue sliding along your neck to mark its target. “I think this is a good spot,” he whispers before sinking his teeth into your pulse.

It burns in a searingly blinding way, and your eyes roll up when he sucks onto your bite-broken skin. He doesn't stop until he manages to ring out a strangled moan from your throat. He cements his work with another swipe of his tongue then pulls away to admire it.

He paints that innocent smile back on his face as he locks his eyes with yours. His voice is light and airy like a weight is off his shoulders when the fresh mark peeks from your turtleneck. "This time I gave you a mark you can’t hide."

It’s another day at the arcade and another day Zayne watches you spend an exorbitant amount of money winning a plushie you could’ve easily ordered cheaper online. The Tinkle Toy you win this time is cuter than the normal fare at least. It’s a bright candy streamer rainbow, with smiling pink cotton candy clouds.

“I did it!” you cheer and hold out your prize to him in search of his approval. He congratulates you on your well-earned victory. With a smiling face, you push the toy closer to him rather than hug it to your chest in your normal possessive manner.

“What is it?”

You wave the toy back and forth. “You know.”

“I’m afraid I don’t.”

In truth, Zayne knows exactly what you want, and it makes his neck hot under the collar. He presses his pointer finger to the bridge of his glasses and pushes them further up his nose as an excuse to avoid your slowly narrowing gaze. Your previously cheerful smile flattens into a stern line and your tone becomes more demanding.

“Zayne,” you repeat ominously, like a parent scolding their child for not finishing their chores. Somehow, it always works to earn his attention, and he briefly glances over the toy again; it looks much less cute this time, the carefully stitched smiles now a mocking grin.

Zayne examines his surroundings: the kids running around the overly decorated and gaudy arcade, the bored and drowsy-eyed employees behind the gift counter, the many older siblings and parents trying to win tickets for the little ones, and, well, you, glaring him down. That look tells him you’re not going to be willing to let this go despite how crowded the arcade has become in your short time here.

“You want me to scent your toy for you?” he questions, adding for emphasis, “Right here?”

“Rainbow Candy can’t join the other plushies in the nest without being christened by the leader.” Poking out your lip, you give him the biggest puppy eyes you can muster. It doesn’t move him enough to give in, not until your eyes start to gloss like stained glass and you softly plead, “Please, Dr. Zayne.”

Ice quickly breaks and chips in the mildest bit of sunlight, dissolving into warm puddles, and it’s just like that when Zayne finally breaks and melts at the smallest insistence from you. Grabbing the toy, Zayne quickly shoves it against his throat, ignoring how plush the toy feels against the underside of his chin. He trails it up and down the column of his neck, swiping it one final time under his chin. It’s a simple motion, done quickly and precisely to efficiently cover the toy in his scent in the least amount of time possible, yet it still feels so inappropriate to do here under your watchful, yearning gaze threatening to make his body stiff.

As he feels his limit about to be broken, he hands the rainbow back to your waiting arms.

“Is this satisfactory?”

You squeeze onto the toy as if someone could snatch it away. You press your face against it, smelling deeply, and when you look up at him from under your brow it’s with the sweetest smile he thinks he’s ever witnessed.

“Your best work yet, Dr. Zayne. Good job!” you giggle, and he has half a mind to pinch your cheek and wipe that childish grin off your face. “Now, I’ll have something to remember you by while you’re at work today.”

“Is that why you demand I scent all your toys?” he asks, and you nod slowly.

“You’re always so busy that I hardly get to see you outside of the hospital, so when I get lonely I just cuddle with these guys,” you confess. You press your nose deeper into one of the garishly pink cotton candy clouds; this time when your eyes waver like watery skies, it isn’t to sway him. “When the teddies smell like you, it’s like I’m holding a piece of you too.”

Those words connect everything that has ever happened between the two of you together, stringing the moments like a red line of fate. Despite the words  I love you  never leaving your lips, it excites the same effect that can make a sane man an idiot, an effect not even Zayne is immune to when you so innocently and freely express your feelings to him.

It’s a skill he struggles with; though for you and your happiness, he’s willing to give in and let loose the restrained mask he wears on his face as he listens to the one person he’s longed for all this time admit that they get lonely without him beside them.

“I think scenting you before my shift would be more comforting,” he offers; the adoration glowing in your irises makes him weak enough to stroke your forehead with the back of his hand. There’s a little whimper muffled into your plushie while your forehead feels hot to touch before your face falls into shock and your eyes dart around the room, like his before. As sweet and innocent as you can be, you can also be very easy to read. “You’re thinking inappropriately.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Not here.”

“I wasn’t going to ask.”

Zayne gently pokes your forehead to clear your head of the improper thoughts running through it causing you to whine and rub the spot, which only reminds him how you’re much, much cuter than any plushie. 

You hold in a giggle as Rafayel shoves his face against the crook of your neck. Since you came over to his studio, he hasn’t been able to tear himself away from you, which left you sitting on the couch, covered in little splotches of dried paint, trying to discern why he feels the need to drag his hands down your arm and audibly sniff your hair.

His breath is heavy and ragged as he sucks in a breath, or rather your scent, and continues to trace up your skin until his finger can finally sink into the collar of your button-up. “Did you do something different today? New lotion? Bath Soap?” 

“I did what I normally do every day.”

Rafayel groans against your skin again. You haven’t seen him hot and bothered, face soaked and flushing red with fever, since his last ebb day, which already happened earlier this year.

“Are you sure?” His lips on your skin feel so familiar that your body is immediately on edge and reacting to every stuttered exhale he makes whenever your leg so much as brushes against him. He sinks closer to you, removing any space in between your bodies. “You smell delectable.”

“Rafayel?”

“I just want a taste.”

“Rafayel, are you rutting?”

“No, I’m not,” he groans, laps your shoulder without any care for the fabric covering it, then pricks his canines against vulnerable, pulsing skin. You can tell he’s about to lose it when he pops the first button on your shirt, not even paying attention to the way his nails draw across your upper chest. “I’m just…admiring you…there’s nothing wrong with that.” 

There’s a whimper melting from his mouth when you press your hand to his chest and push away. Your confidence is quickly rising thanks to the pitiful expression on his face, highlighted by parted, puffy lips and wide violet-pink eyes fogged with hazy lustful clouds.

“I charge by the hour for appearances.”

Rafayel huffs lightly in response. Something about him is different today; something that your experience tells you is due to the rut he fails to explain away. He misses the usual flare he has, the coy seduction that he uses to draw you in. He trades it for brute force, spurred by the mind-numbing need to have this fire in him quenched inside of you as he grips your wrist and forces you closer to him.

“Just send any charges directly to the studio,” he pants out in desperation between sporadic breaths. His voice hitches, forming a short gasp when you grip his chin and focus his sights back on you. He follows so readily at any touch you offer him no matter how rough. Your mind was becoming fuzzy with how much power you have when he’s like this.

“I only take payments in kisses, but I’ll be sure to let Thomas know.”

There’s a moment where his eyes narrow, perhaps in frustration, before they drop and lock on your mouth; specifically, he's memorized by the motion of your tongue glancing across your lips. Rafayel is only consumed with thoughts of how gravely he wants to be the one wetting them despite doing so hundreds of times before. His body wildly craves yours like the months before he was graced with a taste of you, or maybe this yearning is because he knows exactly how it feels to be touched by you as you are now. Rafayel isn't sure which it is anymore, the lines fade and blur, becoming harder to trace by the second. It hurts being this vulnerable, his body uncontrolled by himself, but if you’re his mate then there isn’t anything to fear, at least not this time.

“On second thought, I really should settle my own debts.”

“Are you sure you can afford it?”

“I’ll gladly pay you with interest, darling,” he barely manages to force out in his last single coherent thought. “Now, let me taste you already.”

Rafayel leans closer, aiming for your lips, but is stopped by your nail dragging up the center of his neck, unhindered by the thick gulp he takes to stop his heart from jumping into his throat. You creep your finger up his chin, stopping at the point to force his head up and eyes to lock with yours. The smile on your face is torturous, the look in your eyes out to kill as your lips purse and part to form one simple word,

“Beg.”

The arrogant smirk on your face says you know he will; Rafayel knows he will; anything for a small taste to quench this thirst built in him since eternity for you, but he also knows he’ll have you in his trap instead very soon.

[pinkbewwy-milk]

based on starsandskies' prompt list.

Day 3: Orgasm Control ft. Silco.

warnings: heavy dom/sub dynamics, edgind, control kink, a bit degradation, overstimulation.

You fell face-first onto the couch with a groan, your legs tense and your body shaking. Your eyes were closed and tears were beginning to trickle down your flushed cheeks. The breathing was deep and your heart was pounding so hard you could probably see the movement within your ribs.

Sitting beside you, arm outstretched with a cigar between his fingers, completely calm unlike you, was Silco. He stared down at you with little compassion, taking a drag on the cigar from time to time. He half-closed his eye and gently pushed his fingers inside you, a slow, shallow rhythm, nothing like the frenetic movement he had been maintaining a few minutes ago. You moaned, more of a cry than a sound of pleasure.

“S-Silco… Please…”, you pleaded, feeling your body stiffen again. Fluids and lubricant dripped between your thighs, staining the velvet of the couch, which made the man growl.

“Get up before you ruin something, Prudence”, he ordered, his voice so cold that a shiver ran through you. With difficulty you bent your knees, raising your hips in the process. You left the rest of your torso on the couch, unable to force yourself to lift the weight. Silco raised an eyebrow, but decided to give you that little respite. On the other hand, however, he increased the speed and strength of his hand.

“I-I cannot t-take it any more”, you growled, clenching your teeth and feeling the orgasm approaching once again. You were so sensitive, after so much time of that endless dance, that it only took a little to put you over the edge again. “I-I beg you… I—”.

“I don’t remember giving you permission to speak”, Silco interrupted, curling his fingers and touching just that spot inside you. The squeal made him smile slightly, his own erection increasing at seeing you so weak. He extended his thumb, almost tenderly caressing your asshole, earning another whimper from you.

You didn't respond, knowing that being obedient was the best way to end your torment. You heard the man sigh, and right after that the thumb pushed inside you as well. You took a breath with difficulty, tightening your abdomen and involuntarily tensing your muscles around Silco's fingers.

“Hm? Does it take so little to make you cry? Pathetic”, he spat, his words accompanied by the smoke from the cigar. He made himself more comfortable on the couch, leaning his body to better face yours. By then his index and middle fingers were knuckle-deep in you, his thumb about to follow the same fate. Instead of moving them in and out, the man simply opened and closed them inside you, as if expanding you, stimulating from there as he knew you liked. You, now unable to even beg, could only moan and cry, your legs shaking so hard that just for a second a little worry managed to sneak into Silco's heart.

It didn't last long, still, but he supposed it was enough for him to decide it was too much. He had been doing this for almost three hours, pleasing you in every way possible but not letting you cum. The last half hour had been brutal, with Silco being so violent in his movements that your poor skin was red and sore already. He knew it was only the need to have at least one orgasm what kept you willing still, as there was no other way to explain why you hadn't got up and left already. After all, the office door was unlocked and no one but the two of you were in the bar at this time of day.

But you wanted him to give it to you. You both knew it.

“Do you want to cum, my little Prudence?”, he asked, the trap set. You were either too far gone to listen, or too lucid to open your mouth; you were still not allowed to speak, after all. Whatever it was, the space of silence (not counting the noises coming from both your mouth and Silco's movements in your pussy) pleased the man, who took the last drag of the cigar, threw what was left in the ashtray, and finally sat down on his knees. “Answer me”.

“Yes!”, you exclaimed without a second's hesitation. The velvet that had not gotten wet at the height of your sex was soaked at the height of your face, because between the sweat and the tears, which now escaped like waterfalls, a dark stain had already formed on the material. “Yes, yes! I beg you! Plea—!”.

“Tsk”, Silco silenced, and if you were going to say anything else, the scream that followed completely drowned your words. With his now free hand, the man brought it between your legs and frantically stimulated your clit. At the same time, he resumed the almost animalistic thrusts of his fingers inside you, adding a third finger to your cunt and stretching his thumb as far as it would go inside your asshole.

The sounds were vulgar, almost grotesque, and Silco lived to hear that sweet melody. You heard nothing, white noise clouding all your senses. In your mind there was only your tired pussy and the intruders who would let you, perhaps at last, reach the long-awaited orgasm. You were not allowed to move either, but your body rocked on its own accord against the man, hips bucking to help the cause.

It didn't take long. In just a couple of minutes you felt a thousand stars explode inside you, the impact of the orgasm being so strong that you stopped breathing altogether during it. Your cunt clenched around Silco's fingers, the muscles in your asshole tensing as well to completely entrap the man's hand. He stood still, obedient at last to his lover's body, watching with fascination the clear, translucent liquid that escaped in jets from that beautiful cunt. The velvet was stained in the end, anyway, as well as the cuffs of his shirt and the vest he was wearing. Some of it even ended up on the carpet.

But none of that mattered. The only thing that mattered, to you, after finally catching your breath, was feeling your body relax completely after all those hours of torture. Your legs gave out completely and you were left lying back down on the couch, breathing slowing and muscles softening again. Silco always made you feel good, but it was only after suffering so much that he made you feel this good, with such intensity and subsequent pleasure. You smiled, relieved and happy, after one of the best orgasms you had had in your time with the man.

For Silco, on the other hand, after unbuttoning his pants and letting them fall down his slim thighs, the only thing that mattered was that finally it would be his turn.

[eat-limes-bitches]

Attitude Adjustment

PAIRING: Female! Chiropractor! Reader x Avenger!Bucky Barnes

SUMMARY: Pain affects everyone. Even 106-year-old assassins

WARNINGS: Smidge of Angst, mostly Fluff. Grumpy! Bucky. Some of Bucky's negative self-image but very little. Talks of chiropractic adjustment so cracking joints but nothing too bad. Sam's a little shit. Probably poorly written but oh well.

Word Count: 1006

A/N: Hey guys! I know the last two posts have been really heart-wrenching so here is something a little light-hearted to counteract what I'm gonna be posting next. I am going to be starting chiropractic school in the fall and I know that it has really helped me with some chronic pain stuff that I have going on even with my crazy high pain tolerance so thought Bucky could use some adjustments too!

Enjoy! <3

Dividers by Rookthorne

Y/n watched Bucky from across the gym, analyzing his movements as he tried to continue his set. There was a slight dip in his step as he walked over to the weight plates and a subtle clench of his jaw as he lifted the plate onto the bar. Maybe he’s just sore, she mused as she returned to her stretches. The room around her was slowly disappearing when there was a loud bang and a shout. She jumped, eyes flying open as she shot her gaze across the room where Bucky held his ribs under his left arm while Sam laughed. 

 “What’s wrong, tin man? Age finally catching up to you?” Bucky shot a nasty glare at the man, 

“You won’t be laughing when I drown you in the creek,” Bucky growled as he took a threatening step toward Sam.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Sam placated as he took a step backward. “I was just messin’ with ya man!” Bucky just glared at him again and knocked his metallic shoulder against Sam’s as he stormed off towards the exit. Sam made eye contact with Y/n, shrugging his shoulders and motioning towards the door as if he were saying, ‘Get a load of that guy’. Y/n shook her head and made a mental note to check on him later.

Sometime later after Y/n had finished her workout, she ventured to Bucky’s room, pausing just outside the door. Steadying herself with a breath, she gently rapped on the door. There was a deep groan from the other side of the door, and before Y/n was able to make some space between her and the door, it flew open, revealing a rather disgruntled Bucky, eyes narrowing as he took in her form. 

“What.” He grunts out glare unwavering from her smaller form in the doorway. Y/n steadied herself with a reminder that he was in pain and to not let it get to her. She instead matched his gaze.

“You’re in pain.” She stated cooly observing his reaction as he shifted weight off of his left leg, rolling his eyes.

“Right, ‘cause you can tell from across a room.” He scoffed. Y/n let out an indignant huff as she looked him up and down.

“You’re favoring the left side of your body, and anyone can see that. Your hips are crooked from compensating the extra weight on the left side of your body. You have a slight limp which is throwing your body further out of alignment, and since Steve pinned you during training on Tuesday, you’ve been protecting your left ribcage which was then further aggravated from your bench pressing today.”

Bucky stared at her, eyes wide. “H-how do you know all that?” Y/n’s gaze softened as she gave him a gentle smile. 

“Buck, I’m a chiropractor, I’m trained to see these things. I can help you feel better if you’d like.” She noticed the hesitance in his eyes as he thought about her offer. 

“You know you are allowed help right?” She whispered, placing a hand on his arm. 

Bucky searched her eyes for a moment, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for her to pull away and just laugh, tell him it was all a joke, and walk away but it never came, she just stood there, hand spreading warmth through his arm, smile sending butterflies straight to his stomach. Letting out a breath, he nodded, letting Y/n take his hand and lead him to her office. 

The room was bright, the afternoon sun coming in through the window painted everything in a golden glow. Y/n motioned to the table in the middle of the room.

“Here, lay face down for me.” She said gently, patting the table. Bucky did as he was told,  and melted into the comfortable cushion as Y/n danced her fingers up and down his spine. She paused at the very base of his neck moved her fingers towards his shoulder and gently pressed down. Bucky yelped slightly and jerked away from her touch. 

“I’m sorry Buck, I won’t do it again but that just confirmed my suspicion,” Y/n murmured as she walked around the table, placing the heel of her palms on his upper back.

“Yeah, and what's that?” Bucky grumbled, starting to regret his decision. 

Y/n gave a sharp thrust, and a satisfying pop rang out through the room, startling Bucky. “Your first rib was out of place.” Bucky pushed himself up to look at Y/n wide-eyed. 

“My first rib is out of place!” She just smiled.

“Was. I put it back. That's what that sound was.” 

This went on for a few more minutes. Y/n would palpate different parts of his body, there would be a pop, and Bucky make some sort of surprised noise. Eventually, Y/n made the last adjustment and helped Bucky sit up before taking a seat next to him. 

“How do you feel?” 

Bucky rolled his shoulders before stretching both of his arms above his head. His eyes widened as he snapped his head to meet Y/n’s gaze. Shock was written all over his features as he stood up and wasn’t greeted with the sharp sting that he had grown accustomed to in his lower back. 

“Wow, that-that’s amazing!” He sent a heart-stopping grin in Y/n’s direction. 

“Thank you, Y/n I feel much better.” He said sincerely, taking Y/n’s hand in his as thanked her. Y/n blushed.

“Of course Bucky. Anytime.”

The pair wandered into the main living room where everyone was gathered. Bucky gave Y/n’s hand one last squeeze before strolling over to Steve and putting him in a headlock, laughing and carrying on. Y/n smiled as she watched them when Sam wandered over.

“What did you do to him?” He asked. Y/n just smiled, not taking her eyes off of Bucky, who was now arm-wrestling Tony who was using his suit.

“Nothing really just gave him an attitude adjustment.”

[hello-sweetheart]

You know that trope where Person A thinks Person B is just being nice but they’re actually flirting. What about the opposite? Person A misreading their behavior and being the only one falling impossibly in love.

Clumsy in Love Part 3

Adiel had already gone to bed by the time he heard frantic knocking at his door. He stumbled through his apartment hazy with sleep, a hand stretched out to guide him through the dark until he reached his living room. The lights were blinding to his eyes.

“Adiel?” Came the muffled voice through the through the door. “Can…can I come in please?”

Dread washed over him quick and ugly, churning his stomach as his shaking hands unlatched the locks. Had something happen? Was Eddie hurt? Or—

He hesitated to unlock the last latch. Was Eddie drunk? No, he shook his head. Eddie doesn’t… he doesn’t drink, not like that. He doesn’t get…like that. Not like his ex.

“Adiel?” It was softer now, and he finally opened the door.

“Eddie?”

His voice was still rough from his abrupt wakening, but he looked over quickly checking for anything really. When he couldn’t find anything, his shoulders finally loosened.

“Hey,” Eddie smiled a little crooked and forced, “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“It’s cool. Come inside, are you okay? It’s,” a brief glance at his digital watch, “it’s two in the morning, Eddie.”

They shuffled inside and Adiel locked the door behind him. Guiding Eddie to the kitchen as he flicked on a couple more lights.

“I know, I know. I’ve just been,” he gestured vaguely and his rings caught the warm tones of the lights, “driving around. For a while. Uh, my heads just been a mess today and I…”

“And?”

Adiel encouraged him softly.

Eddie, always so unapologetically himself and taking up space in any room he’s in, looks unsure. He looks away, eyes a bit hooded from exhaustion, he thinks. Sadness, maybe.

He has to guide Eddie’s hand away from where he’s begun to wear down his thumb nail again. A habit that he sure Eddie’s picked up from him.

“And, I wanted to see you.”

His heart might actually sore inside him.

“Well,” he offers a cheeky grin and spins on his toes until he’s facing him again, “you have me.”

“Yeah, I have you.” The words carry weight to them. Adiel’s cheeks flush with warmth.

“You do. Come, let’s go put you bed. You don’t have to say anything until you’re ready.”

Having Eddie is his bed always feels like the world to him. It’s one of the only moments when his mind is able to still, thoughts silent. All his worries are gone when he has Eddie in his arms.

It not just when they’re being intimate (‘canoodling’, he says because he likes to make Ed groan), it’s about having him in his space and still feeling safe. Safer, even. And it’s unlike anything he’s been able to feel in his past relationships.

Safe. Being open and vulnerable and still falling asleep next to someone. Eddie coming here at night, because he feels safe enough to be vulnerable, too.

Adiel always falls too fast and too hard, but he just feels so much. Too much. And they only had a couple months together now, but he can feel himself falling. Not there yet. But he could, soon. It’s as if he’s bracing for the impact of it all.

“You’re still awake.”

“I need to tell you something. I can’t sleep until I do.”

Adiel hums.

“Earlier today, or, yesterday I guess. I was at Steve’s house and… he kissed me.”

The night is so silent, even in the city.

“Did, did you want to kiss him?”

“He kissed me. He surprised me and…I didn’t kiss him back. I wouldn’t do that to you, Adiel.”

He gathers Eddie in his arms, his chest against Eddie’s back, and burrows deep into the nape of his neck.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry that he kissed you.”

“He’s my friend. An unlikely one, but one of the best that I have. I don’t want to lose that. I can’t. I, I owe him my life.”

“No.”

“I do. I’m only here because of—“

“I know what he did for you and I’m so grateful you’re still here, Eddie. I don’t want to imagine a world with you. But if he’s as good as a friend as you’ve said he is, then he wouldn’t want you to feel like you owe him anything.”

“You’re right. I don’t mean it that way. Just that… he’s important to me. And I don’t want to let it go.”

“Give him time then, and space. He’ll need it right now and you’ll have to respect his boundaries.” Like he didn’t respect ours. He nuzzles deeper and breathes in his scent it’s thick with sandalwood.

“I feel like it’s my fault that he feels this way.”

“Can’t make anyone feel anything they don’t want to.”

“When did you get so wise?” He laughs.

“Hush, baby. We both need some sleep.”

“You’re the best among men, Adiel. Goo’night.”

“Night, Ed.”

He’s burning with jealousy, but he can keep it tucked away. Steve means something to him. And that’s what he’s afraid of right now.

He tightens his arms around Eddie, being selfish with his warmth.

I just found you, he kisses his shoulder, I can’t lose you.

———

Something changes after that night. It’s not noticeable right away, his friends don’t notice, but Adiel does. He notices everything about Eddie, even the finer details.

He doesn’t mention Steve anymore, at least not to him. And Adiel doesn’t know if this is a good thing or not.

He didn’t notice how much Eddie talked about Steve until he stopped.

He has these moments in between their kisses and conversations where he… gets lost, for a lack of a better word. His eyes carry this far away look and Adiel know he’s not here with him.

He kisses him back to him until his eyes are alight again and smiling enough to show off his one crooked canine.

When will his kisses stop being enough? Will Eddie simply float away from him, like a cherished red balloon escaping the grasp of a small child, only able to watch it go.

He tries to hold onto him tighter. His hand interlocked with his, squeezing and rubbing his thumb on Eddie’s knuckles just to make sure he doesn’t float away.

He doesn’t want to hold too tight that he suffocates him, but he can’t help it.

I can’t lose you, I…

There are many things he loves about Eddie that he can list off, but the one this that makes him different is how he doesn’t care about Adiel’s strangeness.

His timid demeanor that he never grew out of. His constant need to be reassured. His laugh, more of giggle that gets him strange looks. His restless fingers and chewed, painted nails down to a stump.

All things he’s been called effeminate for.

Targeted, pushed aside, excluded…

Eddie takes all these traits and kisses them one by one. Nurturing them. Loving them. Seeking them.

Eddie makes him feel like man, instead of questioning his masculinity. He’s even painted his nails for him and didn’t bat an eye when he asked for baby purple instead of the assumed black.

“Baby, do you mean lavender?”

“Oh my god, shut up! If it’s called baby pink why can’t it be called baby purple. Stop laughing!”

Eddie makes him feel like it’s all okay. That he’s okay.

And everything, everything will be okay, too.

Until it wasn’t.

———

Eddie didn’t stop making him feel loved or cared for, but it felt different than from before that night. Today has feeling to it. Like the end.

He keeps stalling against the inevitable.

“Adiel—“

“Let’s watch movie? You can sleep here again and I’ll make breakfast for dinner,” because Eddie doesn’t like savory foods after dark, “I have a couple new tapes to choose from—“

“Baby.”

Baby purple.

No, no, no. His hands are shaking again.

“You know, don’t you? That it’s the end for us?Adiel, I wish we could’ve been different,” He holds his shaking hands and Adiel focuses on them instead of meeting his eyes. It’s been a long time coming, doesn’t mean he feels prepared.

“Have you been… seeing him?” It’s the first time since that night that they’ve talked about Steve. His hands are squeezed tight.

“No! God, I would never go behind your back. I haven’t talked to him since then, I promise. I’ve been giving him space, trying to let him come around on his own time, but…”

“But you miss him.”

His world is falling apart.

“Have you been in love with him this whole time? That day in the music store, did you like him then too?”

“No. Maybe? I, I really don’t know. I don’t think I ever saw him that way. I didn’t even consider it a possibility until he—“

“Yeah, until he fucking kissed you!” He pulls his hands away and doesn’t miss the fact that Eddie didn’t try to hold onto them.

“Until he kissed me.”

Why must it hurt this much?

It always hurts so much.

His body is shaking but he avoids any attempts of Eddie trying to comfort him. Can’t bear the way he looks at him scared and careful like he’s trying to calm a wild animal.

Everything was perfect.

They could’ve been perfect,

If it hadn’t been for one fucking kiss from some guy that can’t stay out of people’s relationships.

“He’s stealing you away and you’re letting him!”

“He’s not stealing me, Adiel! You can’t steal people away like that, they have to be willing to go.”

“Willing to leave me?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I love you, Eddie.” It’s a dirty trick to say it here and now, but it doesn’t make it any less true. Adiel needs to say it. Needs Eddie to know.

Some sick part of him enjoys the hurt look that crosses Eddie’s face, but it’s not close to feeling vindicated.

“I fucking love you, Ed.” He whispers it this time.

“I… I loved you, Adiel. Wish I could’ve loved you longer.”

“It’s been months since he kissed you. He might not even like you that way anymore.” Might not love you the way I can. “I don’t understand, how can you throw away everything for a maybe?”

“It wouldn’t be fair for any of us if I stayed. I know I’ve been absent minded, know that you could tell that I didn’t have my all in us anymore. You deserve someone who doesn’t make feel that way. Adiel. I don’t have any right to ask, but can you you try to understand—“

“Then don’t ask! You shouldn’t! I don’t want to hear about what you think that I deserve. Just, just leave. Please.”

“…Will you be okay?”

“No, but I’ll have to be. Go, Eddie, I’m not yours to worry over anymore.”

He doesn’t know how long he stays on the kitchen floor. His head hurts, his heart feels empty. His nose won’t stop running no matter how many times he wipes away the snot with his sleeve.

He must look like a mess. Look unattractive.

Adiel feels unattractive.

He didn’t even notice the sound of someone unlocking the door and step in until familiar arms are around him. He’s engulfed immediately in warmth and the scent of coconut. Vanilla.

A humorless laugh escapes him, Eddie must have called her.

“I love him, Tiff. There’s something wrong with me.”

“Oh babe, no. No. Nothing is wrong with you.” She rocks him in her arms, tucking him into her neck. Her signature afro puffs tickle his nose. The same hairstyle she’s kept since they were kids.

“Just haven’t met the one right?”

“You’ll find them, babe. You still have us. You still have me. Now and until the next life.”

“‘Til the next life, Tiff.” A pinky promise as old as time.

He curls further into her and not for the first time he wishes that they were straight. That they could feel that way about each other.

Life would have been so much easier.

They would have had much less heartbreaks, and maybe, he wouldn’t have been so broken.

Part 2 < 💛 > Part 4

[stuckinblack-widows-web]

in the quiet of the dark

Soft! Natasha Romanoff x Girlfriend!Reader

wc~ 1.7k

a/n: i wrote this a very long time ago when i was struggling with my own mental health. i am getting better i think and this fanfic did help, so maybe it can help someone else

*not proofread*

cw: angst, self harm, fluff, hurt with comfort

Natasha Romanoff hummed a soft melody to herself as she pushed open the door to her cozy apartment, balancing a couple of shopping bags on one arm. The faint, soothing smell of lavender still lingered in the air, and a smile spread across her face since she knew that it meant her girlfriend had probably lit one of the favorite candles, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere. Having set the bags gently down on the floor, Natasha took a moment to stretch out her body, feeling the muscles sore from the day's demanding activities; still, her heart felt light and joyful at the thought of coming home to the comfort of her space and the company of her loved one.

The apartment was wrapped in a peaceful silence, that kind of still tranquility Natasha had grown to appreciate so much after so many years of turbulent moments and cacophonous noise. As she pulled off her boots with a soft thud, she padded silently along toward the bedroom, a smile growing larger and brighter as she caught sight of her girlfriend, gracefully sprawled across the bed in languid repose. The sun, working through the curtains, danced and played upon her placid and serene face while her chest rose and fell in the steady, soothing rhythm of deep sleep. Natasha paused for a moment, heart swelling with overwhelming affection and warmth for the woman she loved.

“You’re truly beautiful,” she murmured softly under her breath, carefully not wanting to disturb the peaceful tranquility that surrounded them.

She tiptoed closer, gently brushing a strand of errant hair from her girlfriend's face, not wanting to wake her. Natasha was tempted to lie down beside her and take a quiet nap but decided that would be better after freshening up. Taking one last look at the inviting bed, she glided into the en suite bathroom, closing the door behind her to renew herself. The cool tile beneath her feet was quite a change from the warm and cozy atmosphere of the apartment, and as she reached for a towel, Natasha found herself humming softly once more.

At that moment, she knew she was doing it.

A small, almost negligible speck of red was showing against the stark whiteness of the tile floor, positioned conspicuously near the sink area. Natasha furrowed her brow in concern as her instincts rapidly kicked into high gear, alerting her to the unusual sight. She followed the faint, crimson trail, her keen, observant eyes catching sight of yet another spot of red and then yet another one following it. A knot of unease twisted in her stomach as she finally arrived at the trash bin, where her gaze fell upon the alarming sight of a razor blade's edge ominously peeking out from beneath a crumpled tissue.

Her heart sank.

Natascha was now crouched beside the bin, her breath catching in her throat as the wave of emotions washed over her. Memories flooded back into her mind—painful memories of her past, filled with all the various mechanisms she had employed to cope, which finally scarred her soul with marks that would never go away. With a sense of trepidation, she reached out, fingers brushing lightly against the edge of the tissue, and in that moment, felt a deep connection. Deep down inside, she knew she need not dig any deeper into the contents of the bin to understand what it all meant.

Straightening up, Natasha took a moment to stare at her reflection in the mirror as a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions swirled through her mind. Her girlfriend had always been her safe haven, the source of comfort that was always there to help make the world less cold and uninviting. The very thought of her having to go through this sort of emotional agony alone was enough to make Natasha's chest ache with a heavy sense of empathy and concern.

She took a deep breath to calm herself down and slowly backed into the room. Her girlfriend was still asleep, peaceful, and that look on her face only made Natasha's heart swell in her chest. Natasha paused for just a fraction of a second before slowly sitting down gently on the edge of the bed. Her hand reached out to gently touch her girlfriend's arm with a soft, tender gesture.

"Hey, my love," Natasha said softly, her voice still calm and composed, though a storm was raging inside her. "Could you please wake up?"

Her girlfriend began to stir from her slumber, slowly blinking her eyes open in a dazed manner. “Nat?” she mumbled softly, her voice thick and heavy with the remnants of sleep. “You’re back home?”

"Yes, it's true, I'm home, "Natasha responded. Natasha was smiling gently, and her voice was even gentle, though beneath the tenderness of her smile lay a thin layer of worry. She waited patiently to give the girlfriend time to fully home her vision to assure this was where she was keeping her focus. "Do you think we could possibly talk for just a brief moment?"

Her girlfriend frowned slightly and sat up. "What's wrong?"

Natasha reached out and took her hands, gently, into her own with a delicate touch. "I… I saw something weird in the bathroom," she began, choosing her words carefully, her voice a fragile balance of softness and resolve. "There was some blood there. And a razor, too."

Her girlfriend's eyes widened in shock, face flushing a rosy shade as a mixture of embarrassment and fear flooded her face. She tried to pull her hands away from Natasha, but Natasha still held her with a light grip, not releasing.

"Hey," Natasha said, her voice calm and comforting in its tone. "It's all right. I want you to know I'm not mad at you at all, and I certainly am not judging you. I just.I really do want to understand what's going through that mind of yours. Will you talk to me, please?

Tears were starting to gather and form in her girlfriend's eyes, glistening as they threatened to spill over, and she looked away instinctively, her shoulders hunching down in a manner that seemed to indicate that she was attempting to make herself appear smaller, almost as if she wished she could just disappear. Natasha's heart almost broke at the sight of her girlfriend so distressed yet, in that moment, remained patient and calm, using her thumbs gently to brush soothing circles on her girlfriend's hands in a gesture calming and reassuring.

"I didn't want you to know," her girlfriend finally whispered, her voice trembling with emotion and vulnerability. "It's stupid, I know it is, and I fully recognize that. But sometimes… sometimes it feels like the only way to cope with everything that's happening around us."

She nodded to indicate her understanding, her expression a fusion of softness and gravity. "It's not stupid," she said with great conviction, her voice very firm. "Pain. it's just the way it is—a slippery little devil that gets us feeling trapped inside its infinite cycle. And sometimes, trying to get out of it, we do things that, at the moment, perhaps are not the best choice in respect to our well-being. I understand precisely where you're coming from.".

Her girlfriend's eyes lifted to meet hers, filled with a sense of question and seeking. "You really do?"

Natasha's gaze, which had been intense and focused, slowly softened as she allowed another layer of her emotions to show. She shifted one of her hands, letting it move from its resting place to trace the thin scar that marked her own wrist. "I do," she said, her voice level but full of earnestness. "I've been there, in that very hard place. And I know how hard it is to open up and talk about it. But you don't have to go through this struggle all by yourself. Not when I'm right here by your side, ready to support you."

The tears welled up and overflowed at that moment, cascading down her cheeks, and her girlfriend let out a shaky sob that echoed the deep pain she was feeling. Instinctively, Natasha wrapped her arms around her, pulling her close in a gesture of comfort while she softly cried.

Not a word was spoken, nor did she try to offer empty words of reassurance that might have been an insincere gesture at that moment. Instead, she just held her tightly, her hands gently moving up and down her back in a rhythmic fashion, trying to convey all the love and support in her heart. As her girlfriend's heart-wrenching sobs finally subsided into a succession of small, quiet sniffles, Natasha took a moment to pull back a little, allowing herself the chance to look deep into her eyes.

"We can sort this out together," she said softly and reassuringly, her voice filled with warmth and compassion. "There's no shame at all in asking for help, and I want you to know that I'll be with you every step of this way. Okay? Her girlfriend nodded slowly and uncertainly, her hands holding onto Natasha's shirt tightly, as if she was filled to overflowing with a deep fear of having to let her go. "Okay," she whispered softly, barely above a murmur. Natasha smiled tenderly and leaned in for a soft kiss against her forehead, her voice full of soft conviction.

"Good, because you're too important to me, to let you go through this difficult time alone." They sat there for what felt like a very long time, the silent heft of the discussion looming in the air between them, creating an ambiance present but not overwhelming or choking them.

For the first time in what felt like ages, her girlfriend could perceive a small spark of hope budding inside of her, that maybe, just maybe, there was a way that things could get better and would. And Natasha? She was the one who wisely and carefully decided to be the solid rock her girlfriend so badly needed at this time, just as she had played that role for her many times before.

Together they would meet and ride out the impending stormy weather—one cautious step at a time—making sure they stayed strong and united.

[brokenpieces-72]

Nightmare Comfort

Note: So when I made the poll for the missing part of the gangster au, I got 20% of people who wanted both, and then the nightmare comfort and normal release were an even split of 40%. So you're getting both.

TW: Violence, interrogation, nightmare, blood, let me know if I miss anything

“Fuck…” you groan.

“You’re a little shit.” Nolan grunts, spitting. “You want me to get ugly?”

“You were being pretty?” You question, trying to hide the amount of pain in your voice.

You hear a gun cock. Your blood goes cold. You go very still. “Tell me where!”

“I swear to fuck I don’t fucking know!”

“Tell me where Makarov’s file is!” He yells.

“I don’t fucking know!!”

BANG

You bolt upright in bed, clutching your chest, wincing from the bandage. In the darkness you see the shape of the stray scurrying away from the bed. You're in a cold sweat as you take deep breathes, trying to steady and ground yourself. You toss back the blankets, and hurry out of your room. The living space is barren so you hurry to their rooms, cracking their doors open. Gaz, Soap, Price and Ghost are asleep. Your heart is still beating hard though. A dream... all a dream.

You wish it were only a dream. The truth is Nolan had done a number on you and the marks were there to stay. You were reckless and didn’t take care of yourself. If Alex and Charly hadn’t made it in time you’d be dead. Dead over something that didn’t exist. You could’ve lost everyone who was asleep right now. They wouldn’t be in safe beds, they would be in the water.

You’re not gonna be going back to sleep anytime soon, so you curled up on the couch instead. The cat curls up with you. The pain is still there, the weapons are in your mind despite never seeing them. You can’t help yourself from imagining the others in the same state as you were. Your bruises were still visible, you’d seen them when you’d got to take a shower. Too soon for a pain killer since your last.

You absently pet the cat, as the dark apartment remains still around you. Very slowly your eyes drift close, and you aren’t about to bother moving. Too cozy where you are. If anyone could come through the door you could be ready. But sleep consumes you easily enough.

When Simon woke up he went to the kitchen and saw you on the couch. You were groaning softly, the cat having already hopped away. Ghost noticed you started to toss and turn. Coffee could wait. He went over to you instead as you started to get louder. Simon started to shake you awake.

You awoke and went to attack the random figure that had appeared at your side, seemingly out of nowhere. Ghost was faster, catching your wrists, but his instincts were faster than him. He ended up pushing your wrists and almost getting on top of you. With the darkness you could quite make him out, and are about to call for help. He uses a hand to cover your mouth.

"It's me!" He says, voice low and gravelly. You stop using your free hand to try and shover him off as you start coming back to reality. Your hard breathing starts to slow and soften while your heart pounds in your chest. Ghost stares down at you wait for you to steady yourself. As Ghost's weight on top of you starts to ground you, you also start to wince. Eventually the soreness is hard to bear, so you pull his hand off.

"You're on my bad leg." You whisper. Simon doesn't get off but readjusts himself, so the weight of his knee isn't pressing on anything sensitive. You do a small check around the dark room. God what time is it? Early probably. You can't make out any of the digital clocks from the couch. You don't notice Simon is still staring at you.

"Broken?" He asks after a moment of you two just breathing and waiting.

"No." you answer. Your head was hurting though. Ghost got off of you, letting you sit up. You stretch because the couch, while comfy isn't exactly great on your back.

"What are you doing out here?" Ghost asks, keeping his voice down. You shrug.

"No reason." You say. "Couch is comfy."

Ghost can tell you're lying. He's worried about you. Being a cop couldn't have been easy, he knows you've been fired a gun before. Seeing Makarov point a gun at your already beaten and weakened state nearly set him off. Ghost has to remind himself that you're not a child anymore, not some naive rookie. By now you had a good enough taste of this life to be taken seriously. After everything that has happened, that you caused he also knows you don't want to be a problem. Joining them, you crossed plenty of bridges, but by now you've burned quite a few.

Simon sits next to you on the couch, and you can feel it sink to his weight. He debates talking to you about how you're not alone, and never have to be. Sure he's private but you don't have to be. The whole Nolan thing was this life rearing it's ugly head.

Regardless you need rest. Those injuries aren't gonna heal if you're thrashing around in your sleep. Simon stands and offers his hand to hekp you. "Get up."

You do as he says and he sits down in your spot. He gently tugs you back down on the couch, but you feel him moving you around. You realize he's reclined on the sofa and is laying you on top of him.

"Ghost what ar-"

"Lay down." He orders. You don't argue and do as he says. Why was your face warm? Why was he so warm? "Close your eyes, try to sleep."

You try lifting your head so you can question him, but he pulls your head back down to his chest. You can feel his heart beating, calm and steady. Man, talk about a big step. Ghost went from standing in a corner in the same room as you, to being your comfort pillow.

"Don't you have stuff to do?" You asked.

"Not really. I wake up early out of habit." Ghost said, his voice low. "Used to do it to avoid my father, a run in the mornings, go to school, work, etc."

"Your father?" You asked, rolling over on to your stomach. Ghost sighed and pulled your head back down. Why did he let that out? Guess it was easier to tell you now, otherwise you'd probably go searching for answers on your own. Better to hear the truth from him. By now he'd told Johnny and Price, Laswell had seen the reports, you probably had too. Something about your weight on top of him made him feel he should air out some issues, if only so you understand who you were sleeping with... there was a better way to phrase that.

"Learned I shouldn't call him that. He used bring in wild animals to scare me, an addict, and would encourage my brother to do the same." Ghost listed off. A brother too? You wondered if any of the others had siblings they didn't talk about. "Abused me and my mother."

There was a span of silence as if he'd told you the whole story and was letting you sit with it. You'd seen a few abuse cases, that had resulted in murder, from both sides. Sometimes the victim fought back and other times the abuse got deadly. You felt like there was more than what Ghost was telling you. Ghost was a private man, so maybe he just didn't want to say anything more. You let yourself relax into him. Simon isn't one to act violently without cause.

A hand drifts to your head, calloused fingers playing with your hair. The sound of your hair being played with and Simon's heartbeat filled the otherwise quiet ambience of the room. Did he think you were asleep already? How much time had passed since he finished telling you what his dad was like? You couldn't help but feel the rest of the story was important. Thinking of what he's told you and where Simon was now, there were a few blanks. You couldn't think of the right question to ask next.

"Is that how you met my dad? Calling the cops on him?" You asked quietly. Simon is still quiet.

"No." He said, and the hand that was in your hair, was resting on your neck. His hands are a little cold. Simon's thumb over your soft neck is soothing for both of you. "He's dead. Killed him after he killed my mother."

Now it's your turn to be quiet. Simon killing his father. You could see it. There was motive too. It wasn't something you wanted to pry open further. With how calm Simon was, you assumed it must have gone far deeper, and his mother's death was the final straw. You thought back to when you came to live at the hideout for the first night, and the stray that had practically become the house pet. Simon's comment about black cats being targeted simply for their fur colour. Hated simply for something you can't control. As you lay there you there you felt the urge to say something, the statement lingering in the air awkwardly.

"Thank you." You said. Thank you. Thank you? Wow that's all you can think to say? You don't even know why you said it, whether it was for his comfort, his acceptance of you, or for killing his piece of shit father. It was a mix.

"Go to sleep." Simon grumbled, and his thumb stroked the back of your neck. You stretched as much as you could without hurting Simon or yourself, before shutting your eyes again.

Kyle woke up and came out to the kitchen. He stopped in his tracks immediately once he saw you and Ghost on the couch. Kyle debated backtracking to his room, not wanting to disrupt... whatever this was exactly. At least he hadn't turned on the kitchen light yet. Before Kyle could think of a next step though, Simon spotted him. Simon nodded.

"Are they okay?" He asked quietly.

"They are now." Simon answered.

"I'll go pick up breakfast." Kyle said, returning to his room to get a jacket. He wasn't going to interrupt this moment. Kyle left without another word, intending to get the usual.

Price had slept in a bit, needing some extra recovery time himself. There were no plans until everything calmed down, and Makarov played his next hand. Kyle sent him a text saying he was picking up breakfast. Price hoped Kyle at least put the kettle on before he left.

When Price got changed and came out to get something to drink he found you still sleeping on Ghost's chest. Was that what Simon meant when he said you were a cat? Ghost gave his boss the same nod as he did with Kyle, and Price returned it.

"Painkillers or nightmares?" Price asked.

"Bit a' both." Simon said. "Told her about my record a bit."

It was his tale to tell, and Price wasn't about to put any restraints on what Simon could and couldn't say. Price didn't talk about Simon, because there wasn't anything people needed to know about him. Simon was plenty old enough to decide what he wanted people to know about him.

"Much sleep?" He asked. Simon shrugged. He hadn't been keeping track. Price checked the clock and decided to head out for his morning coffee. The kettle would wake you like an alarm clock. You needed more rest.

Of course Johnny came out and saw the scene, the earliest rays of the morning giving a low light to the space. He paused mid step and Simon looked up at him. Like Kyle he debated going back to his room.

"You two want privacy?" He asked.

"We're fine Johnny." Ghost said, rolling his eyes. Then Johnny took his phone out. Before he could take the photo, Simon stared him down. Johnny looked up, and his cheeky grin disappeared.

"They're sleeping. Don't make me get up." Simon warned. Johnny raised his hands and stepped back. Okay. He'll just chill in his room until breakfast comes.

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends @thriving-n-jiving @cutiecusp @shikigami-the-paper-spirit @theotheronedotorg

[inkmonster21]

Short n’ Sweet💋

Hugh Jackman x Fem!Sister!Reynolds!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (Car sex - full-blown unprotected p in v - wrap it, folks!)

Part 03

Series Masterlist

Jacked and Kind

💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋

The dim light of dawn filters through the curtains, bathing the bedroom in a soft glow. You slowly awaken, your eyes fluttering open as you come to consciousness. You're immediately aware of your surroundings - the plush sheets, the familiar scent of Hugh's cologne, the warmth of his body close by.

You shift a bit, feeling a pleasant soreness in your muscles. It's the aftermath of a night filled with passion and intimacy.

You look over at Hugh, your movements careful not to disturb him. He's lying on his side, his features relaxed in sleep. His hair is tousled, falling over his forehead in a messy, boyish way that makes your heart skip a beat.

You can't help but study him for a moment, admiring the breadth of his shoulders, the expanse of his chest, the strong, masculine lines of his form. Hugh Jackman asleep is a sight to behold.

You watch as his breaths come slow and steady, his chest rising and falling with each inhale and exhale. One of his arms is thrown over his head, the other draped over your hip, as if even in his sleep he desires to hold you close.

You carefully extricate yourself from the bed, trying your best not to wake Hugh. You make your way quietly out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen, padding across the hardwood floor in just your underwear and Hugh’s discarded button-up shirt you retrieved from the floor. As you enter the kitchen, you spot your purse on the counter. You rummage through it, retrieving your phone.

Hugh begins to awaken, slowly rousing from sleep as consciousness takes hold. He groans softly, his hand reaching out across the empty expanse of the bed. He feels the cold space where you were supposed to be, and his eyes slowly open.

He lifts his head, his gaze searching for you. He then pushes himself into a sitting position, his hair sticking up in every direction, his usually sharp, clean-cut appearance softened by sleep. Hugh sits up in the bed, his eyes darting around the empty bedroom. His expression clouds with confusion and hurt as he realizes you're not there.

"Babe?" he calls out softly, his voice still gritty from sleep. "Where are you?"

You appear in the doorway, Hugh's eyes widen with relief. "There you are," he says, his voice still rough and gravelly. "You had me scared there for a second. Thought you were trying to make a quick getaway."

You climb back into the bed, straddling Hugh's hips and settling on his lap. The sheets tangle around you both, creating a cocoon of intimacy. Hugh's eyes are locked on you, his hands instinctively coming to rest on your thighs, his touch firm and possessive.

“Running away from you? Never in a million years.” Hugh's smile widens at your words, a possessive glint in his eyes. "Good," he says, his voice low and rough. "Because I don't plan on letting you go anytime soon."

He tugs at the hem of his T-shirt that you're wearing, his fingers brushing against your skin. "Besides, I quite like you in my clothes." “How about without them?” You tease him, looking at him with lidded eyes.

Hugh's eyes darken with desire at your words, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest. "Without them is even better," he replies, his voice taking on a gravelly edge.

His hands trail up your thighs, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. They rest on your hips, gripping them firmly as he holds you in place. "But trust me, sweetheart, you look good in anything."

His eyes travel over your form, taking in the way his T-shirt hugs your curves, the way it shows just enough skin to drive him wild. He wets his lips, his hands beginning to move up your sides, lifting the shirt and exposing more of your skin.

Despite the obvious desire and chemistry between you and Hugh, you both know that you can't stay in bed all day. Responsibilities and commitments call, and you're both aware that you have places to be.

Hugh seems reluctantly to accept this, his hands slowly ceasing their exploration of your body as he sighs and looks up at you. "As much as I want to spend the day here with you," he says, his voice hoarse with desire. "I suppose we should get up."

You huff, “I suppose so.” Hugh chuckles at your pout, his hands still resting on your waist. "Don't look so upset, love," he teases, his eyes sparkling with humor. "We'll have plenty of other opportunities for... private time."

He leans up and presses a gentle kiss to your jawline, his lips lingering against your skin. "But for now, duty calls."

Hugh watches you get dressed, his gaze following your every move with unabashed hunger. His eyes roam over your body, taking in the exposed skin that momentarily appears as you slide on your clothes.

He looks like he could pounce on you at any moment, his hands clenching and unclenching with the effort not to reach out and pull you back into bed with him.

As you look in the mirror, Hugh's eyes linger on your reflection. He watches as you try to fix your hair and wipe away the remnants of sleep and makeup. To him, you look absolutely perfect - beautiful, vulnerable, and real.

He rises from the bed, coming up behind you. His hands snake around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. He rests his chin on your shoulder, his eyes meeting yours in the reflection.

You run your hands up his arms with a sweet smile. You really liked him. Deeply. He leans down, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. “You keep looking at me like that and we'll never leave this house," he mutters into your skin, his voice gruff with restrained desire.

Hugh's arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against him. He returns your innocent kiss with a smile, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on the small of your back. “I should go.” You mumbled into his kiss.

Hugh reluctantly breaks the kiss, his hands reluctant to let you go. "You should," he agrees, his voice hoarse. "Unfortunately."

He runs his thumb over your lower lip, his eyes tracing every feature of your face as if trying to memorize them. “I’ll get you a ride.” Hugh reluctantly releases you from his embrace, stepping back to call you a car. As he does so, he keeps his eyes on you, his gaze lingering on your every movement.

When he's done with the call, he turns back to you, his expression a mixture of fondness and reluctance. "Your car will be here in five," he says, shoving his hands into his pockets.

You didn’t want to leave but knew you had to. “Give me a call later?” You ask hopefully. Hugh nods, his expression soft as he looks at you. "Of course," he says, his voice a low rumble. "I'll call you as soon as I can."

He reaches out and gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering for a moment like he doesn't want to let you go either.

As you prepare to leave, Hugh suddenly pulls you back in for one last kiss. It's a passionate, heated exchange that steals your breath and makes your knees weak.

His lips move over yours with a hunger and intensity that mirrors your own, his body pressing against yours as if he can't get close enough. It's a kiss that leaves you both breathless and wanting more.

Hugh smiles as he opens the door for you, a charming, lopsided grin on his face. "Be careful out there, sweetheart," he says, his voice huskier than usual.

He reaches out and brushes a lock of hair from your face, his touch gentle and tender. "I'll talk to you soon, alright?"

You nod wordlessly. He had such a strong effect on you. You wave your fingers delicately as you step into the elevator. Hugh watches, his eyes tracking every movement you make.

He raises his hand in a wave, his gaze never leaving you until the doors close between you. It's a reluctant farewell, one that leaves you both yearning for each other's company.

In the privacy of the elevator, you allow yourself to revel in the giddy joy and excitement that floods through you. You find yourself grinning from ear to ear and letting out a little dance of happiness. The events of the night are replaying in your mind, and your heart is full of contentment and affection.

As you step out of the building and onto the street, a wave of recognition washes over you. The paparazzi are there, their cameras flashing as they jockey for position.

You try to maintain a composed demeanor, sliding into the car as quickly as possible, hoping to make a swift escape.

Excitement fills you as Megan's phone rings, and you record the moment. When she answers, you hear her discussing the possibility of performing at Coachella, one of the biggest music festivals in the world.

The news takes a moment to sink in as you process the magnitude and opportunity of the offer. Performing at Coachella would be an incredible experience, and you can't help but feel a rush of adrenaline at the thought.

The news is met with a chorus of excited screams and squeals. “OH MY GOD!” You jump up and down, unable to contain your excitement over the incredible opportunity.

Your teammates join in the enthusiasm, all of you sharing in the joy and anticipation of the possibility. This could be the break you've been waiting for, a chance to showcase your talents on a massive stage.

In the midst of the celebrations, you quickly pull out your phone and dial Ryan's number, your heart racing with excitement.

As he answers the call, his voice filled with warmth and familiarity, you practically burst with the news. You tell him about the unexpected opportunity to perform at Coachella, the words spilling from your lips in a rush of excitement and disbelief.

Ryan puts his phone to his ear, “hey kid.” “I’M PERFORMING AT COACHELLA!” You scream into the line. Ryan laughs at your enthusiasm, shaking his head slightly as he holds the phone away from his ear to preserve his hearing.

Across the table, Hugh hears your excited voice through Ryan's phone and can't help but smile. He listens to your conversation, finding your enthusiasm endearing and admirable.

"Easy there, superstar," Ryan says jokingly into the phone, still chuckling at your excitement. "I think the whole lot can hear you." You laugh, “sorry. I’m just… fuck I’m so fucking excited!”

Ryan laughs again, his voice filled with genuine happiness for you. "I can tell." He replies, smiling. "And I don't blame you. Coachella is a big deal. You've worked hard for this, and I'm so damn proud of you."

Ryan's words bring a warm smile to your face. He's always been your biggest supporter, cheering you on from the sidelines and encouraging you every step of the way. His unwavering belief in you is a source of strength and comfort, reminding you that you always have someone in your corner.

“Let’s all go out for drinks tonight. My treat.” Ryan offers. Looking at Hugh for an answer. Hugh responds with a nod, clearly up for the idea. "Sounds good to me," he says with a smile. "I'll never say no to a night out with good company." Ryan grins, satisfied with the agreement. "It's settled then," he says, tapping the table. "We're celebrating your Coachella success tonight."

As the day progresses, Ryan finalizes the details for the night's festivities, choosing a place known for its lively atmosphere and great drinks.

As the day wears on, your excitement for the evening grows. You find yourself looking forward to seeing Hugh, feeling the familiar flutter in your chest at the thought of spending time with him.

As you step out of the car and into the busy street, you're immediately swamped by people recognizing you. They clamor for your attention, asking for autographs and photos. You oblige with a smile, graciously taking the time to interact with your fans, appreciating their support and admiration.

You walk into the bar, the atmosphere is lively and vibrant. People are gathered around the tables, chatting and laughing, the sound of clinking glasses and thumping music filling the air. The lighting is low, casting a warm, intimate glow that seems to encourage conversation and closeness.

You spot Blake in the crowd and immediately rush over to her, enveloping her in a tight hug. She greets you with a big smile and heartfelt congratulations. As you release her from the hug, she pulls back and puts a hand on your shoulder, her expression warm and genuine. "I'm so happy for you, you deserve it," she says, her eyes sparkling.

As you turn to your right, your heart skips a beat when you see Hugh standing there. He grins at you, his eyes lighting up as he takes in your excited expression. He steps a little closer to you, his presence comforting and familiar. "Congratulations," he says, his voice warm and sincere.

You run your hand down his arm, trailing over his hand. “Thank you.” Hugh glances down at your hand on his arm, a brief shiver coursing through him at the feel of your touch. He doesn't pull away, instead letting your fingers linger on his skin, enjoying the gesture.

Ryan jokingly cuts in, interrupting the moment, “Alright! My turn!” He pulls you into a tight embrace, his arms holding you close as he gives you a hearty squeeze. The hug is warm and heartfelt, full of brotherly affection and pride. Ryan grins as he pulls away, the joy on his face clear as day.

“My baby sister.” Ryan muses playfully. You punch his shoulder and shove him off with a smile. “Shut up.” Ryan laughs at your playful response, rubbing his shoulder where you hit him with a cheeky grin. "Hey, watch it," he teases. "You're supposed to be all sweet and appreciative after I congratulated you." You roll your eyes at his comment, but can't help but smile. You love the playful banter between you and your brother, a dynamic that has been a consistent part of your relationship.

The four of you gather around a table, drinks in hand, falling into easy conversation. The rapport between you all is undeniable; the dynamic among you is effortless and seamless.

Throughout the conversation, your body seems to gravitate towards Hugh, your shoulders occasionally grazing each other as you laugh. Every touch, no matter how light, sends a spark of electricity through you, and you find yourself subconsciously seeking closeness. With each subtle touch of your shoulder against his, a playful smile graces your lips. Your eyes linger on his face a little longer than necessary, and your body angles towards his, unable to stay away from his magnetic presence.

You lean in slightly, your voice dropping to a lower, more intimate tone as you speak. Every word is punctuated with a touch of flirtation, a hint of the growing attraction.

Blake glances in your direction and asks about the bathroom, you catch the hint. Girl code dictates that you don't go alone, and so you obediently follow along. You nod at Blake, understanding the unspoken agreement, and rise from your seat, ready to accompany her on the bathroom break.

Hugh's gaze follows yours as you stand, his eyes lingering on your figure as you walk away with Blake. He watches until you disappear into the crowd, a hint of disappointment that you've left his side.

In the bathroom, you stand in front of the mirror, running a quick check on your appearance. You smooth out any creases in your clothes, fix a few strands of hair out of place, and take a moment to catch your breath.

“You should go for it.” You turn to look at Blake, catching her eye in the mirror as she dries her hands. Her words are pointed and direct, causing your heart to skip a beat. "Go for what?" You ask, pretending obliviousness, though your heart betrays you with its accelerated rhythm. Blake rolls her eyes, clearly not buying your act. "Oh, please," she says with a knowing smile. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

You avert your eyes from Blake's knowing gaze, knowing that you can't keep your true feelings hidden for long. But then she gasps, and your heart leaps to your throat. "Oh my god," she repeats, her eyes wide. “What?” She smirks at you knowingly. “You already have!”

You realize that your attempt at deception has failed miserably. Blake's gasp suddenly makes sense, and you understand immediately that she has read your body language and picked up on your subtle cues, realizing the truth that you've been trying to hide.

You try to laugh it off, hoping to deflect her accusation, but Blake isn't fooled. "Oh, don't even try to deny it," she says, a smirk on her face. "I can see right through you.” she points to your neck, “can see through this fountain too.”

You know there's no point in denying it any longer. With a resigned sigh, you look at Blake, acknowledging the truth. "Please don't tell Ryan," you plead, a hint of desperation in your voice. Blake holds up her hands in a playful surrender. "Hey, I won't say a word," she promises, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. "But only on one condition.” You raise an eyebrow, curious about her condition. "What's the condition?" You ask, trying to keep your tone level and neutral, despite your anticipation.

“You have to be the one to tell him if it gets serious.” Your heart skips a beat at the condition Blake sets. "If it gets serious," you repeat, a mixture of excitement and nerves in your voice. "I promise I'll tell him."

Blake nods. “I think you two are cute.” You smile at her compliment, your heartwarming at her supportive words. "Thanks," you reply, a hint of appreciation and gratitude in your voice.

"I think he's pretty cute too," you say, the words spilling out before you can stop them. Blake laughs affectionately, her arm linking through yours as you both exit the bathroom. The warmth of her laughter puts you at ease, and you feel a sense of camaraderie and understanding between you and your sister.

As you return to the table, your hand instinctively finds its way to Hugh's leg, your fingertips making contact with his jeans. He glances down at your touch, a soft, crooked smile appearing on his lips.

The heat of your touch seeps through the fabric of his jeans, sending a small shiver up his spine. He glances at your hand on his leg, before his gaze slowly trails up to meet your eyes. “Can I get a ride to my place?”

Hugh nods, a subtle smile on his lips. "Of course," he says, his voice smooth and gravelly. "I'll give you a ride home." You feel a sense of relief at his agreement. A ride home means more time spent with him, away from the judgmental eyes of others and the prying cameras. You wonder what could happen in the privacy of the car, just the two of you.

Hugh's hand on your lower back feels like a warm, grounding presence, guiding you through the crowd of people to his car. The night air is cool on your skin, a welcome contrast to the heat that has been building within you. He opens the passenger door for you, his manners impeccable as always. You slide into the seat, the leather cool against your skin. He closes the door behind you before walking around to the driver's side.

“You should come see me at Coachella. Blake and Ryan said he’d come. You could tag along.” Hugh raises an eyebrow at your suggestion, a small smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. You can tell he's intrigued by the idea but is trying to play it cool.

"Coachella, huh?" he replies, his voice holding a teasing lilt. "Not exactly my usual scene, but I guess if Ryan's going, I could tag along." You can't help but grin at his agreement. Part of you had expected him to decline, but hearing him agree to come to Coachella – even if it's just tagging along with Ryan - has the corners of your mouth turning up.

“Oh shit. Can you pull over?” Hugh glances over at you, surprise flickering across his face at your sudden request. "Pull over?" he echoes, his voice tinged with concern. "Is everything alright?" You nod, holding in the smirk. “Right there.” You say as you point to a secluded area. Barely any cars pass on the late highway.

Hugh glances in the direction you're pointing, a look of realization crossing his face when he sees the secluded spot. He lets out a small huff, but a smirk plays on his lips. "You're up to something," he accuses, his voice low and gravelly.

You look at him with wide innocent eyes. “Me?”

Hugh raises an eyebrow at your innocent expression, a small smile appearing on his lips. "Yeah, you," he replies, his voice dripping with skepticism. However, he pulls the car over as requested, parking it in the secluded area.

“You know, Hugh, I've been thinking..." You began, your voice low and seductive. "This car is so nice and spacious. Maybe we could... make better use of all this space?"

Without a word he turned the key, the engine purring softly as it came to a gentle stop. The night air was warm and still, as you and Hugh stepped out of the car, your body tingling with anticipation. You moved to the back seat, the leather cool against your skin as you settled in, your bodies close but not quite touching.

You, ever the temptress, leaned forward, your fingers gently tracing the contours of Hugh's muscular chest through his shirt. "I've been wanting to do this all night," you whispered, your breath hot against his ear. "Take off your shirt."

Hugh's hands shook slightly as he complied, revealing his toned torso, the soft glow of the moons highlighting the definition of his muscles. Your fingers roamed freely, exploring the planes of his chest.

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, "Now it's my turn." You began to unbutton her blouse, slowly revealing your soft skin, inch by inch. Your breasts were barely contained by your lacy black bra.

Hugh's breath caught in his throat as he feasted his eyes on you. He reached out, his fingers deftly unclasping the bra, freeing your breasts. You arched your back, offering them to him, your nipples already tight and erect.

He bent his head, taking one taut peak into his mouth, suckling gently as he teased it with his tongue. You moaned softly, hands tangling in his hair, encouraging him. Your hips moved in a sensuous rhythm, grinding against the hard ridge of his erection, which strained against his pants.

"Oh, Hugh," you breathed, your voice thick with desire. "I need you." Hugh's hands moved to the button of his pants, quickly freeing himself from the confines of his clothing. Your eyes widened as you took in the sight of his thick, erect cock, already glistening with pre-cum.

You reached out, your fingers wrapping around his length, stroking him gently.

Leaning forward, you took the tip of his cock into your warm, wet mouth, swirling your tongue around the head, tasting his salty essence. You took him deeper, your throat constricting around his girth.

Hugh groaned, his hands gripping the seat as you pleasured him, your mouth hot and tight around his shaft. "Fuck," he gasped, his body tensing as you brought him closer and closer to the edge.

Pulling away, you smiled up at him, your lips glistening with his essence. "Not yet," you teased, your fingers tracing the length of his shaft, collecting the bead of pre-cum and spreading it along his length.

You positioned yourself over him, your hands guiding his cock to your entrance. With a slow, deliberate movement, you lowered herself onto him, taking him deep inside your warm, wet folds.

Hugh hissed as your hot, tight pussy enveloped him, your walls clenching around his throbbing cock. You began to move, your hips rolling in a slow, sensual rhythm, taking him in deep, then withdrawing almost completely before impaling herself on him again.

The car rocked gently with the force of your passion, the windows steaming up as your bodies moved as one. Your breasts bounced with each thrust, your nipples rubbing against his chest, creating a delicious friction.

"Harder, Hugh," you panted, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Fuck me harder."

Hugh complied, his hands gripping your hips, driving his cock into you with deep, powerful strokes. You cried out, your head thrown back.

"Yes, yes, YES!" You cried, your pussy clenching around him, orgasm building.

Hugh felt his own climax approaching, his balls tightening as he pounded into your pussy, his body on fire. "I'm going to cum," he warned, his voice hoarse. "Cum for me," you begged, your words punctuated by gasps. "Fill me."

As if on cue, Hugh's orgasm exploded through him, his cock twitching as he filled you with his seed, his hips jerking uncontrollably. Your pussy spasmed around him, milking every last drop, your own climax rippling through your body.

You collapsed against him, both your hearts pounding, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

"See?" you whispered, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. "This car has never been put to better use." You tease as you kiss the tip of his nose.

Hugh's grip tightens on your waist as you lean against his chest, the hammering of your hearts creating a rhythm that fills the air. His breathing is sharp and uneven, a direct result of the passion and intensity that just unfolded. He looks down at you, a mix of disbelief and satisfaction in his eyes. Then, he lets out a small laugh, his body relaxing against yours. "You're a goddamn menace, you know that?" he murmurs, his voice filled with a hint of admiration and desire.

You fake a pout. “I thought that what you like about me.” Hugh's face softens at your pout, a small chuckle escaping his lips. He brings his hand up to your face, tracing the contour of your lip with the tip of his finger. “That’s one of the many things that I love about you,” he says, his voice a low murmur.

As the word "love" hangs in the air, your heart skips a beat, the implications of that simple word sending a wave of excitement through you. Could it be? Were you falling in love? Was Hugh feeling the same way?

[yizhou-time]

[ 20.08 ] mafia!hongjoong — hurt to comfort (?)

warning/s: mentions of kidnapping, is this a sickfic 😭

rina’s notes: LOOK WE ALL SAW IOMT I COULDNT NOT???? i havent proof read because i dont do that baddies trust their instinct :) also i love writing for hongjoong it's so easy because like omg i love him

“i’m a grown adult, san.” you frown at the man looming over you. he shakes his head and pulls his handkerchief out of his suit pocket. he considers handing it to you but watches you as you cough and moves to wipe your nose for you. “i’m an adult with a cold, you’re doing too much.”

he continues to wipe your nose, even hongjoong walks in. “an adult who was kept in a flooded basement. you wouldn’t be ill if you weren’t put in that situation. a situation that you were put in because of us. stop downplaing everything please.” he puts the handkerchief on your bedside cabinet and strokes your hair before walking out, giving you and your boyfriend some space.

the door softly clicks shut and hongjoong slowly teeters your way. he can’t bare to see you in a hospital bed and knowing it was his fault makes his heart hurt more. “i- you don’t deserve this.” he sits in the chair next to you and waits for you to finish your coughing fit before grabbing your hand and placing a soft kiss on the top. he keeps it close to him, resting his forehead on it as he apologises. “i’m so, very, sorry, my love.” he kisses your hand again and continues to whisper apologies.

you take your hand out of his grasp and place it on his cheek. “i’m too ill to be angry and in too much pain to be upset.” he leans into your hand and turns his head to kiss your palm. “finding out about your little business through men who took me off the street wasn’t great but, hey, what can we do.” you laugh quietly, trying to find some comfort in joking however hongjoong being here was much more comforting.

“i promise i was going to tell you, i needed to so you could have someone with you but i didn’t and now-.” he reaches up and pushes hair stuck to your head behind your ear. “in all honesty, i wasn’t sure if we would be able to continue this dance we were doing. my heart wanted to but my head worried about things like this and look what happened.”

you shake your head at him. “you can’t talk about leaving me now.” he watches as tears well up in your eyes. “too much is going on for you to talk about that now, not when we need each other the most. who’s going to cuddle you at night when you’re already too hot? who’s going to bring me jelly when i’m upset?” his stoic face cracks a small smile and you giggle quietly.

“who’s going to be doing all that, huh?” he leans further into your hand and you stroke his cheek, mirroring his smile. you pull away from him and move across the bed to make more room, hongjoong gets the message almost immediately and stands up to join you. he pushes the duvet out of the way and lays down next to you.

he covers himself with the duvet and opens his arms for you to place your head on his chest, you do just that and wrap an arm around him. hongjoong hugs you and kisses the top of your head with a small frown. “let’s hope next time you’re ill it’s because you want to kiss in the rain again.”

his steady heartbeat is enough to lull you into a deep sleep quickly, after all you’ve been very busy these past few days and ending it in your boyfriend’s arms was all you could ask for now. he listens to your somewhat soft breaths and it’s music to his ears. you probably will wake up with a sore throat tomorrow and more sick than you were today but he’d rather you were sick with him than alone in your house or stuck in that basement. once he’s sure you’re down for good he closes his eyes, regardless of how uncomfortable he is all he’s needed the three nights without you is to have you back in his arms.

yeosang, yunho and seonghwa stand outside the small room, watching through the glass window on the door. small smiles fall on their faces as they watch their fierce leader fall into a state of tranquil. it was the calmest they’d ever seen him. they hadn’t seen your more intimate moments, san had been the only one to properly get to know you while the rest had only met you when hongjoong dropped you home or he was being dropped off to meet you. seeing him cuddled up was odd but it was what he deserved.

“his suit’s going to be creased.” yeosang shakes his head, still smiling.

“yeah, but he’ll buy a new one.” yunho looks at his friend then the couple.

seonghwa observes the scene in front of him. everything was right now, they were altogether. “come on, let’s get cleaned up and we can sort through everything tomorrow. i’m sure hongjoong wants to be there for it.”

[thatgiraffefromtlou]

The Aurora Project

(part 1)

paring: ellie williams x fem!reader(ish?)

summary: as a result of a malfunction, you and ellie awaken from cryosleep aboard a spaceship with no memory. will you find evidence that you’re more than just shipmates? something to give reason to your nagging familiarity to the stranger you wake up next to?

warnings: eventual explicit language, potential for smut in later chapters (depending), close description of the start of a panic attack? maybe? idk that’s what mine feels like. uh cringy teasing idk- lmk if there’s more this is pretty tame-

A/N: ellie loves space, we love ellie, why now combine the two? i’m really gonna try my best to finish this one. because it’s not in the tlou universe i don’t have to match naughtydogs pacing in the games (like i do with my other DYHMN) and can make up my own so it won’t be such a long story! still long and definitely slow burn tho!

work count: 2.6K

– Chapter one –

The hiss of escaping air pierced the silence, a sharp and startling sound that jolted you from your dreamless slumber. Your eyes snapped open, your vision blurry and unfocused, struggling to adjust to the dim light that surrounded you. The metallic taste of cryosleep lingered on your tongue, a bitter reminder of your long suspension. You gasped, drawing in your first conscious breath in what felt like an eternity, the cool air burning your lungs as if you'd forgotten how to breathe.

Disoriented, you fumbled with the release mechanism of your pod, your fingers clumsy and uncooperative. The smooth, cold surface of the controls felt alien under your touch. As the glass canopy finally slid open with a soft whoosh, the chill of the ship's recycled air kissed your skin, causing goosebumps to ripple across your body in its wake. The sensation was both uncomfortable and oddly invigorating, a stark contrast to the numbness of your suspended state.

Your muscles protested vehemently as you pushed yourself up with a groan, your movements sluggish and uncoordinated. Every fiber of your being ached, as if you'd run a marathon in your sleep. "Where... where am I?" you mumbled to yourself, your voice barely above a whisper, hoarse and dry from disuse. The words felt strange in your mouth, your tongue thick and unresponsive.

The low emergency lights cast an eerie red glow across the vast expanse of the cryobay, creating long, ominous shadows that danced along the walls as they flashed. Your gaze, still adjusting to consciousness, slowly scanned the room, taking in the surreal scene before you. Lines of pods, seemingly endless in number, filled the space, each containing a silent, motionless figure. The dim white light emanating from within the pods created a strange, almost ethereal contrast to the blinking of the red emergency lights, giving the entire bay an otherworldly atmosphere.

As your mind gradually cleared, you slowly started to realize the gravity of your situation. You'd woken from your cryosleep, but why? A small panic began to creep through your chest, its icy tallons wrapping around your heart. Your head swam, an almost floaty feeling overtaking you as you grappled with your new reality. The disconnect between your last conscious memory and your current situation was jarring, leaving you feeling untethered and lost.

You forced yourself to take a few deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heart and clear the fog from your mind. With great effort, you struggled to slide out of your pod, every muscle in your body aching and pleading you to stop. The simple act of movement felt like an insurmountable task, your limbs heavy and uncooperative. You had no idea how long it had been since you'd last used your muscles, but from the way they felt - weak, stiff, and painfully sore - and the way your throat was begging for water, parched and raw, you'd say it had been a pretty significant amount of time. Months? Years? The uncertainty only added to your growing anxiety.

With trembling legs, you finally managed to get on your feet, immediately reaching out to hold onto the edge of your pod for support. The cool metal under your fingers provided only a small measure of comfort. "Hello?" you called out, your voice cracking, barely louder than before. Your heart raced, pounding so hard you could feel it in your throat. The sound of your own voice echoing in the vast, silent chamber only intensified your feeling of isolation.

There was no response to your call; all you were met with was the low, persistent hum of the machines around you, the sound of your own panicked breathing, loud in the oppressive silence, and the whoosh of your heart beat in your ears. The lack of any human presence or activity only heightened your sense of unease. Slowly, carefully, you turned your head, your gaze falling upon the pod next to yours. To your surprise and relief, its occupant was stirring, showing signs of life amidst the previous stillness.

A woman with dark auburn hair struggled with the release mechanism of her pod, mirroring your own recent experience. Her movements were just as sluggish and uncoordinated as yours had been. You turned your body, every movement still an effort, and slowly walked around to stand at the foot of her pod. Your progress was painfully slow, each step deliberate as you used the edges of the pods for support, your legs still unsteady beneath you.

As you watched, the glass canopy of her pod slid open with a soft hiss, a type of misty fog slowly spilling out, curling and dissipating in the air. The woman inside sat up, her movements jerky and uncertain. As she looked around, her expression mirrored the confusion you felt, a mix of disorientation and growing alarm evident in her features.

"Are you alright?" you asked, your voice still rough but gaining strength. The woman turned at the sound, your words seeming to bring her down from her disoriented state. Her green eyes, bright and alert despite the lingering effects of cryosleep, met yours. As your gazes locked, a flicker of recognition flooded your brain, quick and elusive. It was gone almost as soon as it appeared, quickly replaced by uncertainty and a nagging sense that you should know this person, even though you couldn't place how or why.

"I... I think so," the woman replied, her brow furrowed in concentration. Her voice was as dry and raspy as yours had been, another testament to the long period of disuse. She cleared her throat, the sound harsh in the quiet of the cryobay, before she spoke again. "I'm Dr. Williams. At least, that's what my pod says." She motioned to the foot of her pod, where a nameplate was clearly visible. Her eyes, however, held a mix of confusion and frustration as she continued, "But I can't... I can't remember anything else." She shook her head in defeat, her dark hair falling around her face, adding to her disheveled appearance.

The admission sent a chill down your spine. It wasn't just you, then. The realization that you weren't alone in your confusion was both comforting and alarming.

Your breath caught in your throat as the implications of her words sank in. "I'm…" you began, then paused, suddenly unsure. You looked over to your nameplate at the foot of your pod, reading the name etched there. You gave the woman your name, but your tone was questioning, uncertain, as if you were trying the sound of it for the first time. Your eyes found hers again as you spoke, searching for any sign of recognition or familiarity. "But I don't remember much either," you admitted, the words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

There was a heavy pause as you both looked around the cryo bank, taking in the rows upon rows of occupied pods, the blinking lights, and the humming silence. A deeper sense of panic began to fill your chest, more intense than before. The enormity of the situation was starting to sink in - you were awake, with no memory, on what appeared to be a massive ship, with potentially hundreds or thousands of others still in cryosleep. "Are we the only ones… awake…?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking the words too loudly might make the situation more real, more terrifying.

The woman looked back at you, her expression a mixture of hesitation and uncertainty. "I'm not sure... I think so..." she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. There was a prolonged pause as you both continued to search the room with your eyes, desperately seeking any clue that might shed light on your situation. "But why...?" she finally asked, voicing the question that had been echoing in your own mind. Why? And not just why, but how? How did you end up here, in this unfamiliar place, with gaps in your memory?

You strain to recall your last clear memory, the one that stood out the most was only a fleeting image. A brief flash of signing a document. The paper, you remembered, was meant to secure you the very pod from which you had just awakened. But the reasons behind your signature and your intended destination remained frustratingly elusive. Along with most of your past experiences, these crucial details seemed to have vanished from your mind.

It was as if your brain had undergone a selective wipe, retaining only the information necessary for basic survival. Perhaps even the lessons your experiences had taught you remained, but the experiences themselves had faded away like morning mist. You couldn't help but wonder: Was this a common side effect of cryo sleep? Had the people who placed you in this state warned you about potential memory loss? If so, those warnings were now lost to you as well. How long would this amnesia last? Would your memories ever fully return?

These questions swirled in your mind, each one giving birth to a dozen more, creating a dizzying spiral of uncertainty and confusion. You felt yourself being pulled deeper into this mental whirlpool, losing touch with your immediate surroundings.

Suddenly, the woman called out your name, her voice cutting through your spiraling thoughts like a knife. Your head snapped back to face her, the motion so quick it left you slightly disoriented. As your eyes met hers, you experienced a flooding sensation of familiarity again, a feeling that dissipated as quickly as it had come. The constant ebb and flow of recognition was both frustrating and deeply unsettling. In an attempt to regain your composure, you shook your head, as if trying to physically dislodge the confusion. "Sorry, yeah... I don't know..." you managed to stammer out, your voice sounding foreign to your own ears.

For what felt like an eternity, the two of you stood there, locked in a mutual gaze. Neither of you seemed capable of finding the right words to break the heavy silence that had settled between you. The atmosphere was thick with tension, your nerves on edge as you both continued to search each other's faces for any sign of recognition or understanding. Finally, the woman spoke, her voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. "Help me out of this thing?" she asked, gesturing to her cryo pod.

You nodded silently, moving to assist her. However, as you reached out, you quickly realized that you weren't in much better shape yourself. Your muscles, still sluggish from the prolonged period of inactivity, protested against even this simple movement. Despite your best efforts, you found yourself offering little more than moral support as she struggled to extricate herself from the pod.

As she finally managed to step out, her hand inadvertently brushed against yours. The brief contact sent an unexpected jolt through your body, an inexplicable warmth spreading from the point of contact and radiating through your chest. Instinctively, your eyes snapped up to meet hers, half-expecting to see a face you'd known your entire life. Instead, you were met with the same mix of confusion and intrigue that you felt mirrored in your own expression. The familiarity of the sensation contrasted sharply with the stranger's face before you, adding another layer to the frustration of your situation.

"We need to figure out what's going on," the woman declared after a moment, her voice carrying a forced confidence that barely masked her underlying uncertainty. You found yourself nodding in agreement once more, still reeling from the unexpected warmth that her simple touch had evoked. It was as if your body remembered something your mind had forgotten, a connection that transcended your current state of confusion.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you took a step back and began to survey your surroundings more thoroughly. Your eyes scanned the room, searching for any sign of an exit. The woman seemed to have the same idea, her gaze darting from one corner of the room to another. Without exchanging words, you both began to move away from your pods, heading in the same direction down a long corridor lined with other cryo units. You could only hope that this path would lead you to some answers, or at the very least, a way out of this situation.

As you walked side by side, a thought suddenly surfaced in your mind. "Dr. Williams?" you ventured, turning to look at the woman. She responded with a soft hum, indicating that she was listening. You hesitated for a moment, your eyes dropping to your feet before meeting hers again. "What's your first name? If you can remember, I mean. Might be easier than Dr. Williams..." You trailed off, feeling somewhat awkward about the question.

To your surprise, she let out a soft chuckle. The sound was strangely familiar, sending a small rush of heat to your cheeks. Why was everything about this woman so familiar, so intimately known to you, yet simultaneously foreign? Like smelling something outside in the wind and feeling the emotions attached to that smell, only to not be able to put your finger on what and why. The feeling was tantalizingly close, hovering just at the edge of recognition, like a word on the tip of your tongue. And only sometimes were you blessed with the epiphany of what that smell was, days or even weeks later, that would strike without warning, bringing with it a flood of understanding and the satisfying click of pieces falling into place. "Ellie," she replied, a smile playing on her lips as she watched for your reaction. Your brow furrowed slightly as you processed this information. "You remember that, or was it on the pod?" you asked, unable to keep a hint of teasing disbelief from your voice. After all, you had awakened first, yet she seemed to be recovering her memories more quickly.

Ellie's smile widened, taking on a slightly sheepish quality. "It was on the pod," she admitted, "but it feels right now that I've said it out loud." You nodded, understanding the sentiment. "Ellie..." you repeated, testing the name on your tongue. It yet again felt familiar, comfortable, as if you had said it countless times before.

As the two of you continued your search for an exit from the bay, you couldn't shake the persistent feeling that there was more to your relationship than simply being shipmates or colleagues. The ease of your interactions, the inexplicable warmth you felt in her presence, and the nagging sense of familiarity – it all pointed to a deeper connection. These sensations were too intense, too immediate to be explained by a chance meeting between strangers.

Your eyes drifted to the viewports lining the corridor, taking in the vast expanse of space beyond. The cosmos stretched out infinitely, a silent witness to the mysteries of your past and the uncertainties of your future. As you gazed at the star-studded blackness, you couldn't help but wonder what other secrets it held. What events had led you to this moment? What purpose had brought you to this ship, drifting through the endless void? And most intriguingly, what role did Ellie play in your forgotten past?

The questions multiplied with each step you took, but answers remained frustratingly out of reach. You glanced at Ellie, noticing that she too seemed lost in thought, her brow furrowed in concentration. Perhaps together, you could unravel the enigma of your shared circumstances. For now, all you could do was press forward, hoping that somewhere in this vast ship, you would find the key to unlocking your memories and understanding her true purpose in your life.

part 2:

A/N: lmk if so if u wanna be in the tag list!

[aarchengel]

Hey 😊 would you do a Damon Salvatore imagine where you’re dating but then you leave the house after a fight with him and get in a bad car crash. He feels this and searches for you, just to find you I’m time to save your life. Then he stays by your side, feeling guilty and when you wake up again he’s there taking care of you, apologizes and promises to never let any harm happen to you again? Just some lovely fluff and a bit angsty. Thank you so much 😊

Apology

Summary: Your boyfriend Damon has been acting very possessive and controlling and you get into a huge fight with him. You go out for a drive to clear your head but end up in an accident instead. Damon finds you and takes you home, making up for everything he had done.

ANGST, fluff

Damon being controlling, car crash, reader having a near-death experience

1.5K

A/N: Thank you @imagine-all-the-fandoms for being my first request! I'm so sorry it took forever (this is horrible). Do let me know if this is satisfactory. Happy reading!

Damon Salvatore X Human!Fem!Reader

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Your boyfriend of two years, Damon, was recently being very controlling and possessive. He started making your decisions for you without bothering to consult you, being unreasonably jealous of any male around you and demanding to be with you at all times, not understanding the healthy concept of giving 'space'.

But this time, it ran deep. He compelled your childhood best friend, Jake, to leave town and forget all about you. You caught him in nick of time otherwise you would've never even known about what happened to him!

Deeply hurt and driven mad with rage, you left the Boarding House for a drive after a few broken objects, wounding words and a heavy heart.

You didn't know how, perhaps you weren't in your right senses, you couldn't hit the brakes and crashed right into a tree. The car flipped over, and your arms twisted at an odd angle. Your limp and now-sore body was fastened with the seat belt, and you couldn't undo it. You were hit badly in the back of your head, and you could feel unbearable burn of a deep gash.

Your senses had perked up under the stillness of the night, and you heard a faint trickle. Then wetness across your back, your head, soon trickling down to your neck. It was a strange fluid --- coppery metallic smell, thick and red with a mud-brownish tinge. It was oddly enticing and familiar. A shiver ran down your spine when you realised it was your blood. Blood, so much blood --- your own. You were losing so much blood, and you could do nothing to stop it. You felt faint and suddenly, the hardest thing in the world was staying conscious.

You were terrified. If you were going to die, then it mustn't be like this. An accident. Your whole life snatched away just because of a mistake. God, you had so many things to do in life. Get a job, travel the world, adopt a cat --- ordinary things but they were your dreams, which now lay shattered. You didn't want your life --- and death --- so unremarkable and ordinary. And while all this time, there was a deep wound of regret in your heart --- perhaps greater than the gash on your head --- to part with Damon.

Sure, he could be such an asshole at times, but you knew that he loves you with all his heart. You didn't want your last words to him be an angry "I hate you". You had never really thought about it, what would be your last words to him. You couldn't breathe at the sheer grief that hit you at the moment. Unable to withstand the blow, you closed your eyes, succumbing to a world of endless darkness, getting lost in your way towards the blue-eyed vampire. And you couldn't do a damn thing about it...

Anger and frustration clouded Damon's mind. It was all hazy, and he was searching for a light. Ah, there it is! Remorse, regret, fear of having losing her. He knew what he did was wrong, but why couldn't she understand? He loved her so damn much, everything he did was tp protect her.

She lived her constant danger because he loved her, and he knew at times that he should let her go, but he couldn't. He needed her to function, she was his damn sanity, and without her, he lost it.

Suddenly, there was this intense urge to go find her, not to waste a single moment. He'll do anything to have her back, she can't leave him. He knew he was unreasonable, ill-tempered and sometimes too controlling, but he couldn't help himself.

He got behind the steering wheel and let his heart lead the way, for it was with her where it truly lay.

He was aghast, devastated, even. Finding her like this, so near to death, he suddenly came to his senses. He was crying, he realised. He never cried. But that's what she does to him --- make him into someone he never thought he could be.

"Y/N, no! No, no, no!" he wailed, feeling utterly helpless. He undid your seatbelt and somehow pulled you out of the overturned car. Without wasting a moment, he bit into his wrist and forced his blood into your mouth.

You drank for a moment then turned away, trying to sit up but immediately fell back and the sheer exhaustion and soreness you felt.

He was here. He was here, you realised.

"Oh Damon, I'm so sorry!" you sobbed into his chest. He wrapped his arms tightly around you and you knew he was crying into your shoulder.

You simply let things just be. In that dark night, the feeling of death heavy around you, the two of you embraced a new life. Of promises of forever, of understanding, of accepting --- and it was beautiful.

After what seemed like an eternity, he composed himself, giving you some strength, too. "Let's get you home, yeah?" he whispered and you nodded. He lifted you bridal style in his arms and helped you into his car. You leaned on him, as much as you could and he kissed the top of your head. "I'm so, so sorry..." he began but your shook your head. He understood. Not now.

You drove to the Boarding House in companionable silence. The silence was golden. The silence spoke it all. And all you needed was the silence.

With his help you went inside. The house that was so familiar --- it looked the same --- but it promised something different.

"You don't know how scared I was today," he whispered as he rubbed your feet.

"Me too... I didn't want to die like that. Not without saying goodbye, though I wonder if I ever will be able to say it-" he silenced you with a kiss. "I won't let anything happen to you. I want you all for myself, I know that's selfish. I am prick and I don't deserve you, but I do love you very much, so much that it's frustrating, and I won't be able to live with myself if something happens to you. I know I make bad decisions, I know I react impulsively, but I do it only for you. I am sorry for today. I had no reason to compel Jake, but I did it anyway because I was insecure. I realised my mistake, I have no reason to be. So, if you have it in you, please forgive me...". Tears were streaming down his face.

You wiped them away and hugged him close.

"I'm hungry," you said, trying to lighten up the atmosphere. It made him laugh. "Pasta?"

"Yes!"

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[jackpiastri]

helping hands – op81

oscar is sore from the race, and you'd do anything to help him feel better.

pairing: gender neutral reader x oscar piastri

genre: fluff

warnings: none

author's note: okay soooo today in an interview after the race, oscar was asked if the race was physical – and he answered "my neck's feeling it". and as you may know by now, i do very very much love his neck. so i thought to myself ".....i volunteer to give him a lil massage 🤭", and then this happened. shoutout to my love arms anon, this one's to us neck lovers (and all of you who we've managed to turn into fans of oscar's neck on our journey) <3

and again, this is not my actual blog. check out @httpiastri for more stuff :)

f1 masterlist

you’re standing in the hotel bathroom, wrapping yourself in a fluffy bathrobe after a long shower, when you hear his voice from the other room.

"can you come here for a second?"

the bedroom is dark when you step into it, the low light from the lamp on your bedside table being the only thing illuminating your lover. oscar is lying on his stomach on the bed, his face pushed deep into a pillow. his back rises and lowers with his breaths, the muscles of his upper body peeking out from the duvet covering his bottom half.

"what’s up?" you ask, sitting down next to him on the bed.

he shuffles a little and soon, his head is sideways on the pillows, eyes looking up at you. "my neck is killing me."

"i don’t think that position is making it better, love."

he lets out a groan, which is then followed by a moment of silence as you wait for him to say something. you let one of your hands drag along his shoulder blades, almost as if to help him speak, and his eyes close from the sensation. "could you help me out?"

your heart softens at the question. "of course." you move a little closer, your hand moving through his newly washed hair as if to tell him that you want him to look down again. once his head is in place, you move one of your legs over his body, settling right above his hips.

your hands slide along his back before reaching his neck. you dig your thumbs along the base of it, going all the way up to the back of his head before moving down again. it's soft at first, but your touches grow firmer as time passes, wanting to force his muscles to relax. you feel oscar easing up under your fingers and he hums, letting go of all stress and pressure of the weekend.

there's something so sweet, yet so sensual, about moments like this with him. the way the room is so still and quiet, except for the low sounds of pleasure leaving his mouth; the way his skin feels under your hands, soft and warm; the way your heart flutters when you remember that no one else gets him like this, only you.

there's something about it that makes you feel so connected to him – and he feels the exact same way about you.

your hands move down right below his neck, and then along to his shoulders, working on the little knots hiding under his well-defined muscles. he lets out a muffled sigh when you press on one specific spot and you smile to yourself.

this is far from the first time he’s asked you to give him some massage after a rough race; the amount of strain his body is put through during a race is obviously very high, so you are always happy to help him out. you would gladly massage him until your hands gave out, but he'd always stop you before they even started to get a little sore. just like now.

as your hands drape along the sides of his spine, he turns his head to the side again. his eyes are still shut, seemingly deep in pleasure even when your hands stop moving. "you are the best, you know?" he says, a slight smile taking over his lips. "thank you."

"you are the best," you counter. "otherwise i wouldn't be doing this."

you can feel the chuckle vibrating through his body before you hear it, and you can't help but grin back at him. he pushes himself up to rest on his elbows and he looks back at you before patting the space next to him on the bed. you climb off his frame, leaning down to lie in the same position as him.

his hand smooths over your cheek, pulling you forward to press your lips onto his. his fingers move down the side of your neck, under your robe, caressing your skin much like you'd done to him just moments before. it's another way for him to thank you.

he's so good to you, so sweet, so perfect – and you are so in love with him.

[stellarbit]

Im a huge fan of your tbb x reader works! Especially tech x reader.

Can I make a request for a one bed scenario? (NSFW or SFW, no preference) On a mission maybe, or just generally tech up to his mischief, I adore the way you write his methodical testing and teasing. It appeals to my fandom trash heart *and* the ‘tism 😆

May your next ibuprofen kick in swiftly 💛💛

~And there was one bed~

Word Count: 1.3k Pairing: fem!reader x Tech Warnings: light petting Summary: It's not your fault there's one bed - you don't speak Rodese. Tech's not mad though.

Tech turned to you carrying an unimpressed deadpan expression. “Care to explain how your planning resulted in insufficient accommodations?”

You took a deep breath, stifling your rising frustration. “I did mention I’m not fluent in Rodese.” Turning a similarly unamused face on Tech, you offered a stiff smile.

Letting out a contemplative noise, Tech shifted his attention to the bed in question. “While it is of adequate size for two adults, I have no issue resting elsewhere.” He pivoted in place to assess the rest of the room. Pointing to an armchair tucked in the corner, he continued. “That will do nicely.”

Without pause, Tech stepped towards the chair only for you to catch him by the arm. His uncanny ability to fall asleep under any circumstances was no secret, but you couldn’t ignore the way he rolled kinks out of his neck and shoulders afterward. You didn’t want to be the reason for his soreness this time. You just had to keep your hands to yourself — no big deal.

Tech glanced between your touch and your tired expression. Nodding to the bed, you attempted to shrug off the situation. “It’s not like anyone is around to see.” You’d been dancing around your nerves concerning Tech for weeks. The idea of him avoiding sharing a bed due to your awkward reactions strengthened your resolve to professionally share the space.

 That very resolve cracked when his armor started dropping. While Tech stripped, rattling off Hunter’s mission briefing, you dialed in on the way his biceps flexed and relaxed as he moved. The tight fit of his blacks highlighted the definition of his muscles, a rare sight you couldn’t break away from.

“Are you listening?” Tech tilted his head to meet your gaze, pulling you back to reality. When your response was just a few absent blinks, Tech sighed but patiently repeated the details he had provided earlier.

After dousing yourself in a cold shower, you joined Tech in the bed. He was propped up against the headboard, sitting over the blankets with the soft glow of his datapad reflecting off his goggles.

Scooting beneath blankets, you debated the most appropriate position to take. Facing him was the last thing you could stomach, but you worried facing away would add to his evidence of your avoiding him. You ended up on your back, leaving it to fate once you were asleep.

“Are you comfortable?” Tech asked, his voice unusually gentle—a rare question for him.

You hummed an affirmative, breathing through the flutter in your chest at the reminder of his proximity to you. You weren’t sure you could manage even a simple ‘yep’ without a crack in your voice. Thankfully, the deep breathing at least eased you into a sleepy haze.

Tech wouldn’t say that he had been waiting for an opportunity to observe you under such intimate conditions. Nevertheless, he wasn’t about to let the time go to waste. Sharing space with you was seemingly stress-free for him. Your response indicated minimal hesitation, which was intriguing to him.

You sparked his intrigue weeks prior during a fast escape. As he pulled you out of the path of blaster fire, Tech sheltered you against a wall, his body shielding yours. Trapped in his embrace, you were wide-eyed and with something like pain on your face, a reaction that lingered even after the danger had subsided.

 Initially, he thought your discomfort stemmed from his leg pressed between your thighs. However, when he shifted his leg and he saw you flinch, he was at a loss. You regained your composure once you completely disentangled, but there was a flush to your skin Tech had yet to witness. 

From then on, Tech meticulously observed your behavior under stress, around his brothers, and during physical contact. Yet, none of these situations triggered the reaction he had witnessed. Eventually, driven by impatience, Tech decided to take matters into his own hands.

He subtly closed in on you during ship repairs, selected you as his partner for running errands, and seized any opportunity to initiate contact. Through these interactions, he deduced that the common denominator in your reactions was his presence. He also realized the limitations of his experiments under the watchful eye of his brothers.

So, while your planning had landed you in one bed, sharing a night alone was entirely Tech’s maneuvering.

Tech waited until your breathing evened into a slow, controlled rhythm before setting his device aside. The room was dark, but his goggles provided him with sufficient visibility. He began his 'test' by slightly moving his leg against yours. When you didn't react, Tech wondered if he had missed his window with you.

Determined, Tech pushed back his side of the blankets and gently slid in. Again, he pressed his leg against yours. You mumbled through a twitch, spurring Tech to move further against you. You let out a long breath, but otherwise were unfazed.

Tech knew he was walking a fine line. While he wanted to test you, tease you even, he didn’t want this to be unpleasant for you. If he wanted to continue, he decided, he needed your consent and he needed you awake.

Deciding that any further steps required clear communication, Tech tapped his finger nervously against his thigh as he pondered his next move. With little experience in these matters, he was charting unknown territory, which only enticed him more.

Carefully rolling onto his side, he propped his head on one hand and prepared to wake you gently. His heart raced slightly at the factor of the unknown. Tech was leaning over you, taking perhaps his last chance to watch you so closely, when he spotted the tint of your cheeks through the low light.

A knowing smile ticked Tech’s lips. Diligently scanning your face, Tech rolled his thigh into you. The twitch of your lips proved his theory right. 

In a low voice, Tech announced, “You are awake.”

Unable to maintain a pretense of calm, your breath hitched and your eyes opened. You blinked against the soft glow of Tech’s goggles hovering above you. He was closer than you’d realized.

“Are you comfortable?” Tech asked you again. He adjusted his stance, purposely resting his free hand over his waist to barely brush your stomach. The light touch sent a shiver through you.

You didn’t immediately answer. You recognized the look in his eyes enough to know he was cataloging something about you. Noting all the places he was pressing against you, a thought occurred to you. 

Shifting your head back for a better look at him, you returned his smile. “Are you?”

His gaze caught on your smile for a moment. Drifting his hand closer, he spread his fingers over your stomach until his whole hand rested on you. Meeting your gaze, Tech gently tapped a finger on your stomach.

“No.” He answered and, before you could panic, added, “But that is to be expected when trying new things.”

Your breath hitched. “And what exactly are you trying?”

“To be blunt, you.” You made a small noise at his confession, flaring Tech’s eagerness. “I’ve noticed you often react like that to my presence and I’d like to see how else you might respond to me.”

Heat flooded your core. “How are you planning to do that?” you asked, a hint of nervousness in your voice.

Tech’s head lifted off his hand with some surprise, processing his next move quickly. Leaning in, he rested his arm on the pillow above your head, subtly shifting his weight onto you. “Would you like me to show you?”

Your response was immediate, your hips instinctively squirming under him. “Very much.”

Tech gave a low chuckle. “Well, for starters, I want to see how you react-” The hand on your stomach drifted lower, over your pelvis, and tucked between your thighs. “When I touch you here.”