#because i felt his excruciating anticipation myself

[the-eclectic-wonderer]

Oh wow. Today's entry is something else. I remembered the scene with the three vampire women was memorable, but the sheer tension of it, the way Jonathan describes being torn between desire and terror. An agony of delightful anticipation. No wonder people have been thirsting after vampires for decades, holy shit.

[7grandmel]

Todays rip: 27/06/2023

slideless

Season 6 Featured on: Transmission Archive ~ The SiIvaGunner All-Star Nuclear Winter Festival Collection

Ripped by Retro Gaming

Part of Voiceless Week!

With the release of slideless at the tail end of Season 6, five years had already passed since voiceless had made impact with the channel like a meteorite. And to some viewers, that wait has been excruciating. Not because slideless itself was hotly anticipated, but because The Christmas Comeback Crisis storyline that voiceless was originally made for had still not been finished since its start in Season 2, and still hasn't as of writing. That wait, as expected, has stirred up some mixed feelings in the fanbase. Whenever I'd find myself looking over those discussions over the course of Season 5 and 6 in particular, it sometimes felt as if voiceless never even happened, that the channel had just full-stop moved past that glorious spark.

Though I'm of course still overjoyed with the success of later seasons of SiIva and greatly enjoyed the creative directions its gone in, I was equally as overjoyed to find that even this far into the channel's life, voiceless was still not forgotten. slideless did of course not mark the first time the track had reappeared on the channel, yet a combination of various factors made it really stick out to me althesame. Slider, as you may well know, sits among the pantheon of SiIvaGunner tracks that will just never stop receiving rips at a regular pace. It holds a special place even amidst that pantheon though, being a track that consistently draws in clicks from a high number of SiIva's viewerbase, likely due to the source track's pre-existing popularity. Even with their frequency, to me Slider rips have always been moments of celebration, where huge parts of the fanbase all gather to celebrate whichever joke is being featured at the moment - I really don't doubt that most SiIvaGunner fans have listened to a majority of all the Slider rips uploaded during their time on the channel.

Pair that legacy with the arrangement being genuinely fantastic, using every part of Slider's instrumentation as effectively as possible, and you have a rip that still sits with me six months removed from it. Everything feels perfectly planned out: The alternating between the accordion and whistle between the intense and calm parts of the song, the aspects of Slider's backing remaining in the backing banjo instrumentation, the way the accordion is layered in different parts of the song to give it more weight... Retro Gaming isn't a name I've covered here on the channel before, but his trademark lies very much in being silently impressive: These super well done arrangements that feel right in line with what the original composers would produce for the game in question. Simply put, it makes me really happy that these talents go toward upholding voiceless' legacy.

[jewelsunrays]

Its been a while since I posted in my diary. I’ve been quite busy, and been doing quite poorly the last few days. Even though the sole intention of a diary was to write in it whenever I felt downcast for some reason I haven’t been succeeding. It just seems like a chore to write lots of paragraphs on my phone; I wish I had a keyboard.

Dad’s pension came in though, a few days back, so mum says I can get a laptop soon for school with some of the money he left. I would prefer to buy myself a Macbook, I told mum this myself, but she never listens so we’ll see how that works out. I told her about wanting to get rid of my TV yet she proceeded to buy another one with the money dad left? In my opinion it was a fucking waste. What the hell am I supposed to do now. Why does nobody in this house have a sense of priority or just generally not listen to me?

I went to see Mitski (and Harry Styles) in concert a few days after my last entry. The heat was excruciating, and everyone there had such nice outfits that I felt really insecure about the way I looked. When Mitski came on it took everything in me to not cry too loudly, but at the beginning of every song I was sobbing. Embarrassing considering I felt like I was the only person there listening to the opening act, bar these two girls I saw in the crowd that were dancing their hearts out (I loved them, I hope in another life I was friends with them). When Harry Styles came on obviously I wasn’t as interested but he was funny and a few of his songs were good so despite my complaining and typical stoic exterior I was having a good time those two days.

Concerts stress me out because I always feel obligated to be screaming and laughing and crying and just openly showing my enjoyment by being loud. Thats really not me. I don’t tend to show my emotions that way, even when I’m screaming with excitement on the inside I will be sat still and straight-faced on the outside and I’m afraid people will perceive it as me being bored or annoyed, when in reality I’m just not a very exuberant person.

Umbrella Academy season3 and Stranger Things V2 dropped. I have liked a great many shows more than I like Stranger Things, its not very high up on my list of favourites despite me being a fan. But I swear I’ve never reacted to any death the way I reacted to Eddie’s/Max’s. At movies and other shows I will have sat there shocked and sad obviously, maybe crying gently if its really heartbreaking, but I’ve never really openly bawled and screeched the way I did at that. I dunno, I think the anticipation of it, and watching it live, and seeing it at the same time as everyone else in the world and not having it spoiled made it so much sadder as opposed to everything else I watch where its already been out for years and I know whats happened. Sole exception to this is Doctor Who. But Christ almighty every time I see a clip or screenshot of Eddie laying there I feel sick to my stomach and have to scroll quickly, that’s never happened even with characters I cared more about. I assume this is how my mother feels about Eleven’s regeneration. I don’t think I could rewatch this if I tried to.

28th June was my interview as I believe I’ve mentioned a great many times. I wore my smartest clothes, fretted for ages while frantically googling what questions I’ll be asked and rehearsing my answers, only for it to be a five minute interview with one teacher, many other people in the same room being ‘interviewed’ at the same time, just to go over exam stuff. All they needed to know was if I’ve already done my GCSE’s, if I had extra time, whether I studied at another sixth form before, my exam scores, stuff like that. I think it would’ve been more complicated had I not already done my GCSE’s. Alas all that happened that mattered was the man taking a glance at my scores and saying, ‘oh you should be fine to get in to the lessons you want with those scores, just bring that to enrolment in August, you’ll receive an email’ which by the way, I haven’t yet. So yeah, I have to go back again, jesus christ.

The last few days have been completely terrible. I feel so hopelessly lonely despite having friends. I’ve realised that the people who feel comfortable coming to me with their problems will often do so without asking if I’m even emotionally stable for that. Worse, I can’t even go to them for the same thing, you know? Like I’ve realised whenever I talk to them the way they talk to me, I don’t receive the same energy back, they wouldn’t listen or try help the same way I would try to do with them - it just gets brushed aside, dismissed with a ‘damn’ or ‘same’ or some other shit like that. I dunno. It never really affected me before but now I’m just realising that I feel like I have absolutely no true friends. Everything in me wants to leave the friends I’ve got when they haven’t even done anything wrong, they’re technically nice to me, but talking to them makes me feel miserable and I don’t even know why. I dunno. I want a therapist or something.

I will try to write in here more consistently. The whole intention was to vent here as nobody else was listening but alas somehow I forgot that

[idkxwriting]

Could you please do a smutty fluffy oneshot where the reader is a witch and meets Elijah (around when he first appears on TVD, before Damon daggers him) and they're drawn to one another. And despite Damon not trusting him (he can be jealous if you wanna add that) the reader decides to invite Elijah into her home and get to know him. They bond, kiss, and do the sexy times. Also I think it would be cute if he said something about feeling alive with her for the first time in centuries.

“You did what!?” Damon stood in your doorway, his icy stare enough to make most people reconsider.

But you weren’t most people.

“I know what I’m doing, Damon,” you rolled your eyes and turned away from him only to find him in front of you once more.

Anger burned in his eyes, and you knew for a man with very little patience to begin with that you were pushing your luck. "Really? Because it sounds like to me you just invited Elijah Mikaelson for dinner."

You shrugged. "And a drink."

“You invited a vampire over for a drink?” His eyes narrowed. "You do hear yourself, right?" He snapped.

“Not that kind of drink," you were exasperated.

"I can't protect you from him," Damon growled.

"And I'm not asking you to," you countered. "I can protect myself." As you stepped around him once more, you felt the rage rolling off of him in waves. You knew Damon well, so you anticipated his next move, bringing your hand up and summoning your magic to drop him to his knees before he could attack.

Damon cried out, gripping his head in pain. You had never had an aneurysm personally, but you could only assume it was excruciating. You decided he had enough, releasing him. He panted, the pain subsiding as his body healed.

"See?" You smirked.

He glared at you, and you knew that had you been anyone else, you'd likely be dead - whether that was because of you were a witch or because Damon had a soft spot for you, you couldn’t decide. "I don't trust him."

You shrugged. "Well I do."

"Why!?"

"I can't explain it, Damon," you sighed. "There's something about him...I feel like I need to do this. Like I'm being drawn to him, and I need to figure out what that means."

Damon opened his mouth to argue when you cut him off.

"All I’m asking you to do is trust me."

He scoffed. "Maybe if you didn't make such colossally stupid decisions..."

You raised your brows at him. "I haven’t been on your case about you being drawn to Elena, have I?”

He narrowed his eyes.

“Exactly.”

He looked at you incredulously. "Elena isn't plotting our deaths..."

"Elena is alive because Elijah wants it that way. And he's saved your life what? Three times now?"

Damon rolled his eyes. "And what about when he decides he no longer needs Elena alive? Or me?"

You didn't have an answer for that - only a gut feeling. "We're missing something, Damon. I can't explain it, I just know I need to do this..."

He nodded, knowing you were stubborn and there was no changing your mind. He sighed heavily, walking over to a bookcase and pulling out a very large, very old book. The leather spine cracked as he opened it to reveal the pages had been hollowed out, and he took out an object wrapped in a white cloth. "Then here, take this."

You stepped towards him, and as he unwrapped it, you realized it was the dagger, a small jar of ash from the white oak tree beside it. "Damon..."

He shook his head, his face sullen. "Y/N, I've been around long enough to know when I'm fighting a losing battle with you. And if you're going to insist on being this stupid," he held the dagger out to you. "I at least need to know you have a backup plan."

You nodded, dipping the dagger in the ash before placing it carefully into your jacket. "I have to go," you whispered.

He rolled his eyes. "Wouldn't want to keep him waiting..."

*****

You paced in your kitchen, suddenly nervous as you waited for Elijah to arrive.

You couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. Sure, he was attractive, and his charm was refined, but there was something more. A gravity pulling you into him that you couldn't seem to escape.

Maybe Damon was right, maybe this was crazy. Elijah wasn't exactly safe - you had no reason to trust him. You considered the dagger hidden in your sweater, feeling as if even having it in your possession was a betrayal. Still, you weren't sure where the sense of loyalty came from. Before you could think on it any longer, you took it out.

A gentle knock alerted you to his arrival, and you panicked, shoving the dagger in the knife drawer before making your way to the front door. You looked yourself over once more, fixing your hair and wiping your palms on your thighs.

You took a deep breath, steeling your nerves. You swung the door open, the air leaving your lungs as you took in the sight of him.

He stood in a pristine suit. He oozed confidence, but the hint of a smile he offered you was reserved. His eyes were warm, and as they traced over you you felt the heat rise to your cheeks.

“Good evening, Y/N.”

You managed a breathy hi in response, and swallowed, leaning up against the door for balance as you felt the familiar pull. You waited for a moment and he let out a soft chuckle.

“Are you going to invite me in?” He asked calmly.

You shook your head, as if clearing the fog. “Right, yea, of course...sorry...” you muttered. “Elijah,” your eyes met his, a heaviness settling over the two of you, as if the invitation wasn’t just into your home, but your life. “Would you like to come in?”

He unbuttoned his jacket, placing his hands in his pockets as he stepped over the threshold with ease.

He maneuvered with a gracefulness you could never hope to possess and you were mesmerized with each movement. He stepped into your space, crowding you and making you realize you hadn’t backed up to give him room. He looked down at you, and your breath hitched at being so close to him.

His smile was knowing and soft, like he was holding something back. As if he had a secret. He took a deep breath, his eyes tracing your neck. “It smells delicious.”

You froze, unsure if you had made a mistake. Still, something in you stirred though, a curiosity that had you wanting to offer him everything.

“Are we having Italian?” He asked with a smirk.

You bit your lip, glad that his teasing broke the tension. “Umm, yea,” you laughed before remembering the oven. “Shit!”

You rushed to the kitchen, Elijah forgotten for a moment as you tried to save the lasagna you had slaved over. You grabbed pot holders, tearing the oven open and pulling out the ceramic dish. In your hurry you lost your grip, and it fell to the floor.

Elijah hadn’t been quick enough to save your grandmother’s recipe, or maybe it wasn’t where his priority had been, but he had rushed in, spinning you away from the scalding hot dish that splattered before you could even process what had happened.

In his movements you had lost your balance, but he steadied you, pulling you into him. You had your hands on his chest. Your gazes locked, his breath mingling with yours as he straightened up, steadying you with ease before releasing his grip on you.

Your hands remained on his chest for a moment longer before you stepped away from him. “Thank you,” you whispered before turning to see the damage. Tomato sauce was all over your kitchen floor, and you were grateful he had saved you from a burn. You should have been upset that you had nothing to offer him for dinner, but you began to laugh. It was soft at first, and he watched you in amusement as it bubbled up, tears building in your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you howled. “But I slaved over this all afternoon...and you don’t even eat.”

He chuckled at that, and you grinned at the sound.

“You’re a vampire, and I know it’s just a myth, but that thing is loaded with garlic. Kind of funny...”

The irony wasn’t lost on him, but he was distracted, taken with how carefree you seemed. Something he was not used to humans being in his presence. You were so alive, something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Until recently.

“Perhaps some wine,” he grinned.

The sight was enough to pull you from your fit of giggles, and you knew you’d do almost anything to pull that smile from him again. “Okay,” you agreed. You stooped down, using the pot holders to pick up the dish and dump it in the sink to be dealt with later. “You get the wine, I’ll clean this up,” you opened the closet, pulling out your mop.

He had offered to help, but you insisted, so he dug out a bottle of merlot from your cabinet while you made quick work of cleaning up the sauce.

“Do you have a bottle opener?” He asked, examining the label.

You placed the mop in the corner, it would need to be cleaned out, but it could wait. You glanced over your shoulder. “Second drawer to your right,” you replied as you moved to get wine glasses.

His movements stilled, and when you turned you found him holding the dagger in his hand, his eyes searching yours. “Tell me, Y/N,” he spoke slowly and deliberately. “What exactly did you have planned this evening?”

You moved next to him, pouring the wine and offering a glass to him.

He considered you for a moment, before taking the glass and placing the dagger on the counter between the two of you, the hilt facing you. If you wanted to, you could reach it with ease, and maybe he’d be quick enough, but something in you told you he wouldn’t stop you. Whatever your next move was, he was leaving it entirely up to you.

He sipped his wine in quiet contemplation, waiting for you to make your decision.

You opened the knife drawer, placing the bottle opener back inside. You picked up the dagger, twirling it in your fingers for a moment before placing it back where he had found it. You looked up at him, his head was cocked, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. “Dinner, drinks...pleasant conversation. Of course, that was before I ruined the dinner,” you added.

His eyes narrowed, as if he were trying to piece you together. “Perhaps,” he said. “However I believe we’ve remedied the drinks.”

“And the conversation?” You asked. He grinned again, and your heart pounded at the sight. He was achingly beautiful.

“I find conversation is almost always pleasant with you,” he admitted softly.

You took a sip of your wine. “Almost always?” You questioned.

He shrugged, a levity behind his eyes. “I believe you told me to...what was it?” He made a show of pretending to comb through his memories and you winced. “Go fuck myself, was it?”

The curse sounded foreign from his lips, as if something so crude didn’t belong coming from someone so noble, and you couldn’t help but chuckle in embarrassment. “To be fair, you were threatening my friend...”

He nodded, his tongue darting out and wetting his lips. You followed the movement. “Ahh yes, Damon Salvatore,” there was a hint of distaste in his voice, but you didn’t press the issue. After all, the feeling was mutual. “For all of his flaws I can see he cares about you.”

You nodded. “He’s my best friend,” you offered.

“And yet you’re here with me. I assume Damon provided the dagger.”

“He’s just looking out for me.”

He nodded at that, and you wondered if there was a hint of respect there. “He protects those he loves...”

“One of those qualities that keeps me hanging around,” you shrugged.

He took another sip. “Tell me, what is keeping you here with me?”

A heaviness settled between you as you considered your answer. “Gravity,” you breathed. You weren’t sure why you had made that confession, but something about the way he looked at you told you that he could be trusted. That he’d protect you, too. “It’s like every time I try to put some distance between us, I am pulled back in even further,” your voice was a whisper. “What is that?” You blushed, turning away and sipping at your wine.

“Gravity,” he repeated as though trying it on.

Your eyes shot to his again, and you found yourself inching closer in a trance. You were pulled out of the moment when your stomach rumbled loudly. Your face flushed. “Sorry,” you chuckled.

He straightened his posture, leaving space between you once more. “Let’s find you something to eat, shall we?”

You beamed as he took off his suit jacket, rolling up his sleeves and getting to work, rifling through your fridge. He ignored your protests, insisting that in all of his years he has managed to learn a thing or two, and that you had already slaved over one dinner. Now it was his turn. So you did as he said, and sat at the island, watching him work.

He asked you about your family, and you told him about your hometown. How moving to Mystic Falls hadn’t been so bad. You laughed as you told him about your siblings and the time you had gotten grounded for stealing your parents car. You told him how your mother had taught you magic, and how it had come from her mother before her.

As you ate he shared about the places he had traveled, how his time in New Orleans had felt the most like home and he’d like to return someday. He promised to take you to Paris, and told you how he had missed his baby sister.

And suddenly you realized that this Original that everyone had feared, this legend, was still just a man somehow. A man with regrets and dreams. A man who has suffered great loss throughout lifetimes, and your heart swelled. You got the sense as he talked that he saw himself as a monster, and it broke you inside a little. You suddenly couldn’t reconcile the monster he saw with the man you were getting to know. You only saw Elijah.

Maybe it was that realization, or the wine. Perhaps a combination of the two, but as he stood to clear your plate, you placed your hand on his wrist. He paused and you stood, moving into him. Slowly you inched closer, your eyes searching his for any signal that you may be unwelcome before they fluttered shut. You placed your lips against his delicately. His lips were soft and he stilled, breathing you in.

The kiss was brief, but you remained close, your faces almost touching and your breaths mingling before you pulled back and smiled. “Gravity,” you whispered.

When he didn’t respond you pulled away, clearing your throat. “Sorry, I just...”

His hand on your elbow cut you off, and he spun you back into his chest, his other hand brushing the hair from your face. His eyes searched yours. “Y/N,” he whispered. “I haven’t felt this alive in centuries,” he admitted softly.

You fisted your hands in his shirt, your body pleading for him to move.

As with all things Elijah (you had come to learn over the last few weeks) he was deliberate and controlled. He leaned in slowly, tasting your lips once more, and pulling a soft hum from you. He pulled back to look at you, his secret smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Gravity,” he said again.

And then he was moving, his lips crashing into yours, all hints of carefulness dissipated as his tongue begged for entrance. You opened to him, and he kissed you greedily, the taste of wine on his tongue. His hands traced your curves, and you were surprised when you found yourself pressed to the wall in your living room. His strength excited you, and you noted his restraint. You hitched a leg up, and he held it up, wrapping it around himself as he pressed into you.

You moaned, and he released you then, his mouth tracing a path down your neck. Your hands ran through his hair, running down the back of his neck, your fingertips desperately seeking. You traced along his shoulders to his chest, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.

You pulled, untucking it from his belt and pushing it down his shoulders, desperate to feel him. Your hands roamed the hard muscle of his chest, but it wasn’t enough.

He pulled away, discarding his shirt before stripping you of your sweater. He took in the sight of your breasts greedily, and you were grateful you thought to wear the black lace bra. He traced his fingers along the edge of the fabric, and you yelped when he suddenly pulled, tearing the scrap of lace from your body.

You would have been annoyed that he had ruined your favorite bra if his mouth hadn’t latched on to your chest, his tongue tracing your nipple. His teeth grazing, dancing the line between pleasure and pain.

You arched your back, your hips searching, and once again he moved you, his hand cradling your head as you found yourself on your back on the couch. He rose up, eager to look at you, take you all in as he hiked your skirt up above your thighs.

His gaze burnt a trail into your skin, the blush rising as he watched you. Still, you didn’t shy away, letting him drink it all in. Your hips rose on their own volition, desperate and searching for purchase.

He clenched his jaw, and he traced his fingers along your panties. You whimpered beneath him, and even as you slammed your eyes shut you could tell he was cataloging the ways you reacted to him.

“Elijah,” you cried, sitting up on your elbows.

He leaned forward, kissing you again, tasting you. He pushed your panties aside his fingers teasing your folds and you cried out. He smiled, and you felt like you were in on his secret now, privy to a piece of himself he didn’t often share.

He swallowed your moans as he worked you, pressing one, then two fingers into you. He groaned at the tightness. His tongue traced your throat and you dug your nails into his back as he used his thumb to work your clit.

You gripped his arm desperately with one hand, the other tangling in his hair - your body tightening as you felt your orgasm building.

“Please,” you begged, reaching for his belt.

He sat up once more, making quick work of his belt and zipper, releasing himself before leaning back down, desperate to be close to you. He pressed into you, and you both groaned at the contact, a wave of relief washing over you both before he began to move.

He hitched your leg up, pressing himself deeper into you and you writhed beneath him. You met every thrust, slamming your eyes shut at the pure ecstasy that was Elijah. He held himself up with one arm, his other hand tracing your throat. You hoped there’d be more of this, that you would have time to give him everything.

He began to thrust harder, and he brought his thumb to your clit once more, rubbing deliciously as he filled you.

He sat up, pulling you with him so you straddled him, his thumb still teasing your clit as you rode him. He buried his face in your chest, kissing every inch of skin he could find. You bounced on him, chasing your orgasm wildly. You rose and rose, feeling like you were floating until suddenly you exploded. You cried out, and he followed you over the edge. He worked you through it, taking in every way you moved as you came.

You came back down softly, Elijah pulling you in, his gravity keeping you in his orbit.

He chuckled quietly against your throat, his voice deep and wrecked. “Does that happen often?”

You opened your eyes to ask him what he meant only to find you had shattered the bulbs in the house, your residual magic released and leaving you in a blackout. You laughed then, the movement quickly rippling into aftershocks of pleasure. “No,” you panted. “Never.” You leaned back to look at him.

Even in the dark you could see his secret smile. “We may need to get you a flashlight,” he teased.

You shook your head. “Mmm,” you hummed. “I’ve got it.” You closed your eyes, concentrating when suddenly all of the candles in the room lit up.

Your eyes met his in the flicker of light, and you leaned down in a languid kiss.

“Gravity,” he growled against your lips.

[userjoel]

[ ♡ morning kisses ♡ ] ––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

[ prompt ]

‘‘i’m not going to kiss you.’‘ ‘‘why?’‘ ‘‘because if i do, i don’t think we’re getting out of bed today.’‘ followed by the character placing a playful kiss on their lover’s mouth as they get out of bed (via)

[ pairing ] : tom holland x reader

[ warnings ] : a lot of kissing, they kinda sorta get a little handsy? it’s just very fluffy and i’m still trying to figure out what exactly warrants warnings so some kind feedback would be very appreciated...!

[ word count ] : 1.5k

[ note ] : this is my first ever fic, and it’s been a minute since i wrote...anything really? so i have no idea how this is going to read for others, but!! i had fun writing this, so i hope you guys enjoy!

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You wished every morning could be just like this: eyes coaxed open by the warm rays pouring through the windows, your frame safely tucked against Tom’s body with his arm draped over your waist.

Once you manage to blink away the sleep, you roll over to face him, being careful not to wake him in the process.

And he looks perfect. You lie there and run your eyes over him—it feels a little surreal to take him in this way. Just several hours ago he was on a plane coming back home to you after an excruciating month of being apart. But now, here he was — physically, actually here — lost somewhere deep in his dreams. By a rare stroke of luck you’ve woken up before him. So naturally, you're gonna use those valuable seconds by trying to memorize every little detail of his face.

Nothing has felt more relaxing. A little too relaxing, in fact, but you fight the sleep that threatens to creep back, fixating instead on the way the sunlight licks at the tips of his unruly brown curls, slowly inching down his features. And if the sun were allowed to touch him, weren’t you, too?

You hold your breath as your index finger reaches out and delicately traces along his brow bone.

When it seems clear the action hasn’t stirred him from his sleep, you continue to ghost across the surface of his skin, taking your time as your finger trails down his cheek bone, to the bridge of his nose, and to his lips. Then it lingers there for a second too long.

“I think I quite like this sort of wake up call.” 

Your whip your hand away like it had just touched something hot, eyes blown wide in surprise.

“You’re awake.” The sentence comes out more as an observation than a question, and you can feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“I... may or may not have been up since I felt you turn over earlier.” His eyes, still sanded with sleep and exhaustion, finally open to meet yours. But his ever-present, boyish amusement doesn’t fail to glitter from behind the chocolate orbs.

And it had always been these minor things that made your heart glow with warmth for the boy in front of you. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to wake you,” you mumble, a pout forming at the end of the sentence as you caress his cheek.

Tom hums in reply, leaning into your touch as he shakes his head, as though to tell you not to worry. His arms reach around you to pull you closer to him. “No, I’m glad you did. I reckon I should probably get ready anyway. What time is it?”

“No. Nuh-uh. C’mon, I just got you back!” Your hand comes up to cover his eyes, shielding his vision from the clock by your bed. “Unless by ‘get ready,’ you mean ‘get ready to spend all day with your loving girlfriend and not go to work’?”

“Y/N/N,” he groans playfully, shaking his head side to side to try and remove your hand, but you persist, a grin decorating your features. “The sooner I get out of here, the sooner I can wrap up and come back home to you love, hm?” He turns his head slightly, just enough to give the inside of your wrist a quick peck. “Give me my eyes baaaaack.”

Reluctantly you concede, but by parting your fingers just enough so he could peek between the gap. The corners of his eyes crinkle when he finally sees you, and before you can say anything else, he closes the distance to give you the first kiss of the day.

It’s deliciously soft and lazy, purposeful and loving. The feeling sends a kind of shock through your veins, reaching down to the tip of your toes. His lips move against yours with ease in the same way they’ve done a thousand times before, effectively bringing all your guards down — your hand comes down too, slipping behind his neck to toy with the hair on his nape. Your leg innocently tangles with his, bringing your bodies even closer together, and you feel his hand delicately moving from the your lower back to your ass, giving it a small squeeze.

You hum against his lips for more; but that’s the exact moment he decides to pull away. And as much as you hated it, you knew as well as he did that one second longer and that would probably mean neither of you'd likely have a very productive morning. Not that that would be so bad for you, necessarily.

Tom rolls you over on your back, peppering your cheeks, neck, and collarbone with feathery kisses that you knew translated into an apology. He nestles his head on your chest with a quiet sigh, consumed by the silence and the rhythmical thump of your heartbeat.

“Wish I didn’t have to go to bloody work.” He mumbles against your skin, cuddling even closer against you as your fingers gently comb through his hair. "Wish I didn't have to leave you again."

But you both knew it went without saying that Tom loved what he did; how he couldn’t imagine being anything else but an actor. The physical and mental demand of his work, the exhausting, erratic hours, the different types of people he had to deal with on a daily basis — he could handle all of that, and then some. But when it came down to being away from you not just in the early hours of the morning but for weeks, and sometimes even months at a time… That was the hard part. Those were the moments when he dared to invite the addictive ‘what-if’s and tempting fantasies of an alternative reality where neither of you had any obligations to tend to, no urgent work messages to check on the phone.

“Duty calls, right?” You can still feel your lips tingle from his kiss. “At least you don’t have anything on your schedule tomorrow. Means I’ll get to have you all to myself.”

At that, you suddenly feel the weight of your boyfriend removed from your body. Tom props himself up a bit to lean over you, hands on the bed by either side of your head. There’s a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, suggesting something both sinister and delightful.

“For once you’re wrong, darling.” He grins. “I’ve got a full schedule tomorrow and a fairly good feeling that you're going to love what I’ve got planned out for you.�� 

You raise your brow. “'That right? Thirty-something days apart and suddenly you’re so cocky.” With a teasing smile, you drape your arms around his neck, gaze lingering on his inviting lips for a moment before lifting back up on his eyes. 

“But fine," you begin, your voice just slightly hushed. "What if...you show me a little, tiny sneak peek, baby...and I can tell you...what I think of your little schedule so far?” With each passing syllable you pull him down closer to you –– bit by bit, and sneakily enough, you tell yourself. Your eyes flutter shut, anticipating what’s to come, but the kiss never lands. You feel the teasing tickle of skin on skin instead.

“Y’think I don’t know all about your antics, don’t you?”

“‘Antics’?!” Your open your eyes again with a frown. “I think some would call that the art of flirting. Or teasing. Or both. But I guess you wouldn’t know that even if it were right under your nose.” Your finger pokes the tip of Tom’s nose for emphasis.

He tuts and shrugs in acknowledgement. “Well tough luck, babe. I’m still not gonna kiss you.” A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, one hand leaving your side to tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Why not?” You huff.

“Because if I do, I don’t think either of us are ever going to make it out of this bed.”

“But—” Before you can fully protest, you’re caught off-guard with the very kiss you were denied just moments ago. And maybe that was why, but somehow, it feels even better than the last. Your chin cranes up to hold his lips for as long as you possibly can, melting under his touch and savoring what you could.

He reluctantly tears away, much sooner than you’d like. He leaves you with a final peck against the tip of your nose.

“I love you. So much.” He rests his forehead against yours again. “And I’m sorry we can’t spend my first day back together, darling. But I’ll make it up to you, hm? I promise.” 

“Pinky swear?” You hold up your finger between your two frames, and he doesn't think twice before looking down to loop his finger with yours. The pads of your thumbs press together to seal the deal, and he brings your interlocked hands up to gently press it against his lips.

It was a gesture frequently shared between you two — a secret handshake, if you will — but only for private moments like this. 

“Pinky pinky swear.” He reassures, giving your hand a small squeeze before finally removing himself from the bed. “I’m gonna go shower now. Be good.” The mattress echos your groan as your boyfriend disappears from your reach and into the bathroom.

Your eyes glance over at the clock, frowning at the time and blaming it for the outcome of what had been, at one point, your perfect morning. It already felt like a distant memory.

[tripleaxeldiaz]

you’re my living proof my love is alive

for @eddiediaz HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAY <33

read on ao3

“Did you ever think we’d get here?”

Eddie opens his eyes, the shade of the tree they’re under saving him from an assault of sunlight. He’d been dozing off and on, lulled by the warm day and the soft breeze and Buck’s fingers raking through his hair where his head rested on his lap. But something about Buck’s voice — not a sadness, not an edge, but something — wakes him up fully, and he rolls onto his back to look up at Buck’s face. He follows where Buck’s eyes have landed — on their family, spread out around them, absorbed in their own conversations while kids flit in and around them like over excited butterflies. He’s looking at them wistfully and in some sort of awe, and Eddie waits for him to elaborate.

“To the park?” he asks slowly when it looks like an explanation isn’t coming. “It’s like a 10 minute drive from our house.”

Buck tugs his ear, fighting and losing to the smile spreading on his face. “No, asshole. I mean all of this. Our family. You and me. Did you ever imagine we’d get a life like this?”

The breeze seems to blow a little cooler as Eddie takes that in, because honestly? No. All of this, the joy that he’s found here, is brighter and better than anything he ever let himself dream about.

And it’s not that he never thought he’d be happy or filled with some kind of lightness. It just wasn’t a priority — not when he had a team to lead or a marriage to try and fail to fix or a kid to take care of on his own. Everything and everyone else came first because those were things he could handle, tangible things with some kind of concrete solutions, the direct opposite of the amorphous, unreachable discomfort that always seemed to sit right at the base of his skull. And there were moments of joy, especially with Christopher — his smile, his laugh, the way he lit up at any opportunity to learn something new. Those were good moments, great moments, and Eddie treasured all of them, locking them up tight in his heart because they were sometimes the only things that got him through the day.

But still. No matter what, at the end of the day, he’d find himself in bed, surrounded by silence, fighting off the aching loneliness that grew stronger as the sun went down. Only then would he let himself indulge — he’d imagine a dip in the mattress next to him, warm skin begging for his touch, craving that feeling of being wanted by someone else despite the demons and nightmares that still haunted him.

He doesn’t really know if it made the loneliness better or worse.

Moving to LA helped — a fresh start for both of them, more opportunities, no one hovering over his every move waiting to swoop in the minute he made a mistake. He felt lighter, excited even, like maybe now things would actually turn around for him, like maybe he was ready to fill that space that sat in his heart. Maybe Shannon coming back was a sign that she was supposed to fill it the whole time, just like he thought when they were 19.

But then she left, permanently, just as quickly as she came, and suddenly he wasn’t sure of anything his heart or soul was telling him anymore.

So he threw himself back into what he knew best — being there for everyone else. Whether at work or with Chris, his focus was solely on the outside, ignoring any pangs of longing or indulgences because they didn’t matter. A person could only survive so many broken hearts in their lives, and he’s certain that watching the life fade out of Shannon’s eyes with no way of stopping it was the last one he’d be able to handle. It wasn’t a waste, this focusing on other people, and he wasn’t unhappy — how could he be when he had the best kid, the best friend, the best family that he’d cobbled together for himself, that had saved him time and again without even knowing it?

The loneliness lingered, though. It wrestled with the fear he felt so hard sometimes it blew the breath right out of his lungs. He thought he did an okay job of hiding it until Bobby sat him down and told him it was okay to move on, that it was okay to want to let someone in, to not carry the burdens on his own anymore. And he knew that, rationally, but that wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that in the moments when his resolve cracked, his indulgences were no longer faceless. They had broad shoulders and strong arms, a halo of curls and eyes so blue they put the ocean to shame. 

The problem was that this person was real and solid, an unshakeable presence in his and Chris’ world who smoothed out creases and stitched up tears in a way that was helpful, not in a way that made Eddie feel guilty for letting things get creased in the first place.

The problem was that the person his stupid, lonely heart had let in, without his consent, without him even noticing, was the person he knew would shatter his heart into a billion, unrepairable pieces if he ever lost him. 

So he settled instead. 

He found someone who was nice and low maintenance and good with Chris and it was enough. Or almost enough. Or as close to enough as he felt he deserved.

He feels another tug at his ear. “Did I lose you? Pretty sure your eyes just glazed over for like two minutes.”

Nothing he does gets past Buck, that’s for sure, and the knowledge of that warms him better than the sunshine. He reaches up and threads their fingers together, kissing the back of Buck’s hand before resting both on his chest, over his heart. He sighs, eyes slipping closed again. “Sorry. Zoned out for a second.”

“And forgot my question,” Buck says, squeezing his hand. “So did you? Imagine this? Or something like it, I guess.”

He’s better with words than he used to be, can be straightforward with his feelings without breaking out into a cold sweat. But still, these words stick, because years and countless therapy sessions later, he knows exactly how deep the darkness went back then, and he hates thinking about it. Hates remembering the full body ache of loneliness, how dull and bleak it made everything seem.

But also, he can’t — won’t — lie to Buck, and he’s warm enough now, surrounded by sunlight and laughter and Buck’s hand on his chest, that he’s not worried about being pulled under again.

“No,” he finally says. “I didn’t let myself think about anything like this for a really long time. But when I finally did, it was never as good as the real thing.”

Buck hums but doesn’t say anything else. He traces carefully over Eddie’s knuckles and the back of his hand, and Eddie almost falls asleep again. 

“What changed your mind?” Eddie opens his eyes and Buck’s looking down at him now, an intense curiosity in his eyes, like he was just cycling through everything he knows about Eddie trying to figure out what made him believe in love again.

Knowing Buck, he probably was.

Eddie’s happy to save him the trouble. “I got shot,” he says simply, and Buck’s hand finally stills. Eddie reaches up, cupping Buck’s cheek, relishing in the way he automatically leans into his palm.

“I got shot,” he says again, “and you saved me, in every way you possibly could.”

It’s true — it wasn’t the first time a bullet had found a path through him, or even the first time he’d seen his life flash before his eyes. But as he lay there in the street, hot asphalt underneath him, weaker by the second, the only things running through his head were Chris and Buck and ChrisandBuck, and his only regret was that Buck didn’t know — about his guardianship of Chris, about how he made Eddie feel something like hopeful for the first time in years, any of it.

As his vision blacked out, Buck’s face streaked with blood and panic was the last thing he saw, and he vowed to make sure Buck knew everything if he made it out of this.

Of course, nothing is ever that easy. 

After he woke up, with Buck’s name on his lips but Ana’s hand in his, everything became a waiting game. 

He waited for Buck to show up at the hospital, out of breath but still so dazzling, his very presence making Eddie feel like he could run a marathon right then. 

He waited for them to finally be alone so they could talk, but only got through telling him about the guardianship before Buck got a text from Taylor that made him smile so softly the rest of Eddie’s speech died in his throat. 

He waited to break it off with Ana long enough that he didn’t seem like a jackass, waited as Buck and Taylor flew higher and higher before crashing, waited for days and weeks and months, waited, waited, waited. 

But it didn’t hurt. All that time, it wasn’t excruciating, it didn't feel like a waste, because he knew from the minute he woke up that he was waiting for something. He could feel the anticipation burning up inside him, and it wasn’t going to be for nothing this time. 

Finally, finally, just as naturally as they had fallen into each other’s lives the first time, they fell together again — in the dim light of Eddie’s kitchen, empty beer bottles and raw, unfiltered words between them, reliving the day they hadn’t been able to talk to each other about for the past nine months. Eddie’s hands shook and Buck took them in his and Eddie knew this was his moment. 

He looked Buck dead in the eye and said, “You’re the reason I’m sitting here right now, and I’m in love with you.”

The evening air crackled in the silence, and neither of them moved. Eddie was pretty sure even his blood had stopped flowing as he waited, until suddenly everything snapped. 

Suddenly they were both leaning in, suddenly they were kissing and whispering I love yous soft and desperate across each other’s skin.

Suddenly everything began.

He shakes his head a bit as he comes back to the present. Buck doesn’t say anything this time, just smiles and kisses the center of Eddie’s palm where it’s still resting on his cheek, tangles their fingers together again before placing them back on Eddie’s chest. 

“You saved me too, you know,” Buck says quietly. “I wasn’t the one who got shot, but still, you did. You always do.”

“Always will,” Eddie says, because it’s true, and the easiest promise he’s ever made. Buck is his hope, his light in the dark, every other cheesy cliche, and Eddie will work for the rest of his life to make sure Buck feels safe and loved. It’s the least he could do for all that Buck has given him.

They lapse back into quiet, enjoying the sounds of the park and their family, and Eddie feels something he's been too afraid to name until now, a holdout from years of guarding himself.

He’s happy. Truly, with no caveats or strings attached, unbelievably happy. 

[justauthoring]

My Sincerest Condolences

Prompt: Heya I got an idea for a haikyuu request! So I have knees problem and I can't play any sports cause they dislocate (i know ew) and because of that I can't play volleyball (or i have to be extra careful) and I know Oikawa injured his knee (i dont remember if they said how) so my idea was, what if reader really loves volleyball and wanna play but she can't cause of knees or legs issues so she just watches and then ont time after a practice, when the gym is empty, she sneak in and starts playing with a ball and Oikawa forgot something so he comes back and sees her, and then they talk and she says she can't play and well i guess he can relate since he did injured his knee and couldn't play for a while, so he gets all soft (love me some soft Oikawa) and plays with her? I don't know something like that, I just want soft Oikawa 🥺🥺🥺 plz and thank you if you write it!

A/N: I relate to this so much given that i’ve literally dislocated my knee twice and I used to love to dance but because of it, can’t do it much anymore :( Also i’m fully aware that I keep writing about Oikawa but I literally cannot stop myself. I love him so much. Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x F!Reader

The ball feels good in your hands, you note. Better then it’s probably ever felt.

It’s been far too long.

And that it certainly has.

You push the pads of your fingers into the ball, feeling the coolness of it to the touch, before spinning it. It’s so quiet in the gym, just you, that you can hear every breath you take, every squeak of your feet if you shuffle, and most importantly, you hear the anticipation in your body, running through your veins, at finally seeing a net so up close.

There’s no one around, it’s just you, and realistically, you know you can’t do much with just yourself. But that doesn’t stop the excitement coursing through your veins.

Besides, you used to be praised on your serves, and that wasn’t an impossible task alone.

Don’t push your knee too hard. 

You won’t be able to play anymore.

We recommend you give up volleyball.

It’ll only cause more issues in your future.

Any wrong move.

You need to be careful.

Eyes clenching shut, your grip on the ball tightens. “Damn,” you whisper, despite being alone, trying to suck in the flood of emotions that hit you like a slap to the face. 

It was entirely too unfair. And it was your reality.

Staring down at your right knee, at scar that stares mockingly back at you, it occurs to you you probably shouldn’t. That you could really hurt yourself. But... it’s been so long, and it had already taken everything away from you -- was simply practicing something unachievable too?

“Screw it,” you hiss. You’ve already made it this far, sneaking into the gym far after school and practice was over, solely because you knew the net would still be up for a practice game early the next more.

The ball feels amazing, fits perfectly against your hand, and the sight of it soaring through the air is a sight you’ve missed. Your line of shot unachievable from the crowd, something only attainable by where you’re stood -- your serves, one that used to have the crowd cheering and the opponents anticipating in fear, that had been so cruelly torn from you.

You finally hit it again.

You’re so enthralled, so focused, that you don’t hear the gym doors open, don’t hear the footsteps that follow, nor do you notice the figure just stood off to the side watching you for the past ten minutes. You’re all too oblivious, and the figure doesn’t announce his presence until he notices the familiar look of pain on your face, one that he knows all too well, and the way you halt in a second, repositioning yourself.

“You could really hurt yourself.”

You jump at the voice, ball falling from your hands and bouncing away as you spin, turning to face the newcomer with wide eyes. Your shock, however, doubles when you see exactly whose there -- because instead of a teacher or staff member that had caught you red-handed like you expected, you see the all too popular captain of the boys volleyball team.

“O-Oikawa-san! Sorry,” you bow quickly, cheeks flushing. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

He juts his hip out, a pleasant smile on his lips that you often see him using on the flock of girls that follow him, holding up the pads in his hands for you to see. “I forgot something,” he explains, “didn’t expect to see anyone here.”

You tense. “I’m-I’m sorry if I was intruding!” You explain, holding your hands out before yourself, words stumbling past your lips. “I just... saw the net and couldn’t help myself.”

Oikawa waves you off. “Your serves were impressive,” he compliments, stepping towards you and picking up the ball that had slipped from your hands moments early. “You play, then?”

You’re not oblivious to the slight edge to his voice. It’s not threatening in any sort of way, but there’s something there, in the way he looks at you, that tells you he knows something. What, however, you have no idea.

“Used to,” you explain, rubbing the back of your neck before setting a hand on your knee. “Torn ACL. Can’t play anymore.”

His gaze softens, puzzling you even further.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/L/N Y/N, third year. Why?”

“That’s why I thought I recognized you,” his eyes flash, “you used to play on the girls team. You guys made it to nationals last year, you won six points on serves alone.”

Swallowing thickly, you force back the memory that desperately tries to crawl itself back to light, shrugging your shoulders. “Yup,” you nod, cheeks still warm. “Of course, that was a while back now. Surely my names not still mentioned.”

“Maybe,” Oikawa shrugs. “I still think you left a lasting impression. An impressive one at that.”

“Give her space! Don’t crowd her!”

“What’s happened, Y/N? Where does it hurt?”

“We need to get her to the hospital, it’s... it’s bad!”

“You’ll need surgery, Y/N.”

“You’ll never play--”

“--Ah, well, sorry for the intrusion once again,” you quickly make your way towards your bag and blazer, gathering them in your hands with a certain fluster. “I’ll be taking my leave now. Have a nice--”

“You came to play, didn’t you?”

You pause at his words, turning to look at him with a frown. “It’s hard to play by yourself.”

Smiling gently, he holds the ball in his hands towards you, eyes bright.

“Two is still kind of hard,” you quirk a brow.

“But not impossible,” he raises a finger at you. “Come on,” he sighs when you don’t move. “You went through all this effort to sneak in, might as well take advantage of it.”

You flush at his words, slowly setting your stuff down.

“You’re oddly generous.” You comment, coming to a stop in front of him as you let your eyes drift across his figure curiously.

He shrugs, “I might just know how you feel more then anything.”

Quirking a brow, you cross your arms over your chest. “Oh?” You drawl, “and how’s that?”

“I hurt my knee too,” he explains, glancing down at his legs before shuffling on his feet. “Was out of games for a long time to rest up, it was excruciating. I couldn’t wait to get back out there.”

“You can play, I can’t stop you. But, it would be best if you didn’t.”

“But mom--!”

“But mom, nothing, Y/N. You’re not playing anymore. Not when you could seriously hurt yourself.”

“I’ll be careful! Extra careful! Just please, I love volleyball, don’t... don’t take this away from me.”

“...I’m sorry, sweetie. But it’s for the best.”

“Yeah, well,” you glance down at your feet, “I’m not just out for a while. I’m off the team. I’ll never play again.”

Oikawa blinks, lips parting.

You seem to realize what you said, shaking your head. “Sorry! Sorry! I don’t mean to complain,” you rush out, “I appreciate the offer, Oikawa-san, but it’s best--”

“I’ll play with you.”

“Oikawa--”

“I’ll make sure you play again.”

Blinking, your lips part. Silence echoes for a moment, then, you laugh lightly. “And I told you, it’ll be pretty hard with just the two of us.”

“I’ll get the rest of the team to play,” he says eagerly, without a second of hesitation, causing you to blink up at him in surprise. “At least, the third years. They’ll do it, anything for practice. Then again, we’ll need another to be able to play three against three, but I’m sure I can rope one of the first--”

Setting your hand on his arm, you squeeze, his words falling silent as you shake your head. Oikawa stares down at you, baffled, before you look up at him and his eyes widen at the way your eyes have watered.

“Why are--”

“I don’t know why you’d go so far for me,” you whisper, “but... thank you.”

And your words hang in the air for a moment, silence echoing, before Oikawa eases and he’s suddenly smiling down at you.

“Your serves are amazing,” he whispers, a certain new air to him, “I’d love to see how they compare to my own!”

At that, you let out a small laugh. Oikawa was certainly different then you’d ever expected him to be.

“I’ll wipe the floor with you.”

[justmaybee]

Feather Sensitive

Summary: Oh, Yamaguchi’s really done it this time. He should just keep his mouth shut from now on. Unfortunately, that’s the exact opposite of what Hinata wants.

A/N: Y’ello! Another off-brand one, but hopefully a fandom peeps recognize. I haven’t seen Haikyuu in a lil, but I love Yamigoops and this has been 90% done for forever so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Based entirely off the second headcanon here, by @ticklishnonsense — absolutely loved it and you can tell cuz I wrote this ages ago for no other reason than having it written down for myself~

A big thank you to OP for letting me use her work as inspiration!!

———

This was a mistake. This was a mistake. This was a mistake.

Yamaguchi can’t will his mind into more elaborate thought, because it’s all just suddenly sunken in.

Hinata’s weight, heavy but not uncomfortable, resting snug on his hips. The loose tank top, just slightly too big on him, stolen out of Kageyama’s stuff at some point during one sleepover or another. And that ridiculously giant feather Hinata’s got poised between his fingers, like it’s a quill and Yamaguchi is a trembling, twitchy sheet of parchment about to be marked up.

When had he told Hinata? Why had he told Hinata?

Tsukki had figured it out, years and years ago; during one of their many one-sided tickle fights, Yamaguchi thinks. It’s been used against him for as long as he can remember, stray fluff from down pillows and blankets brushed over his neck or feet to pull a sudden and squeaky laugh. He’s never, ever told Tsukki just how much it really tickled though, and Tsukki never asked.

So why did he have to go and mention this to a person just as skilled and merciless in tickling people—often Yamaguchi people—into boneless puddles of teary, hysterical laughter?

It’s got to be Hinata’s charm. If Tsukishima has his cold, borderline apathetic, poise to lay base for his killer teasing method, then Hinata’s strength comes in his natural curiosity. Wide eyes, a light voice, and an openness that makes Yamaguchi feel like he can talk to him.

This, apparently, is not the case in a topic involving feathers. Because Yamaguchi will apparently lose all sense of self-preservation and voice his thoughts on how unbearably sensitive he is to a thing most people will flinch at and brush away like nothing.

But of course, it’s too late for him to realize his mistake now. It wasn’t until Hinata came barreling down the hall, shopping bag in hand, to tackle Yamaguchi to the living room carpet that things started rolling into motion.

Now Hinata’s got Yamaguchi pinned, arms under his knees and a big, big smile stretched over his face. It’s so genuine and excited that Yamaguchi finds himself getting a little lost in it, at least until the feather comes back into focus.

“I mean come on, Yamaguchi.” Hinata holds the quill of the feather and traces the soft end up his own arm, dusting it over his collarbone and getting just a hint of a twitch out of his lips before twirling it between his fingers. “I almost think that you’re lying to me.”

But his face must convince Hinata otherwise, because he doesn’t look like he thinks it’s a lie. The tracing of the feather, even along Hinata’s skin has Yamaguchi twitching, breathing funny. Goosebumps rise along his arms, and Hinata is so riled up with energy—so ready to take Yamaguchi apart—that it’s practically impossible for the brunette to even try and stop the wobbly smile making its way onto his face.

Hinata is the one to burst the bubble of anticipation building slowly in Yamaguchi’s gut. He laughs, a delighted little sound, commenting on the cute pink of Yamaguchi’s blush before he goes in for the kill. And Yamaguchi has never been that great at holding back his reactions, especially when he’s already a tense and flustered mess untouched, so the result is pretty immediate.

The first giggle slips hesitantly out of his throat but clears the way for many more as Hinata gently traces the base of his neck, skimming over his collarbones like even a feather could break them if used too harshly.

It’s a little timid, a little reserved, which is a major change of pace from Hinata’s usual quick and dirty way of fighting. He’s always had a ‘take no prisoners’ sort of approach to a tickle fight; either win outright or die trying, but the new method seems to slow him down a bit.

He’s thinking, watching. And luckily, for him and most certainly not Yamaguchi, the change seems to work really well with the soft touch of the feather. Pulling giggle after giggle from his victim and making him sputter at the attention when he realizes how closely he’s being observed.

The plume travels slowly up Yamaguchi’s neck, high enough that he’s able to jerk his head to block out either side as it passes. Unfortunately, that just causes Hinata to speed up the back and forth strokes, attempting to dodge Yamaguchi’s blocks. And it’s effective and so much more ticklish, Yamaguchi chokes on his sudden snort and tosses his head back on impulse, laughter getting louder and more desperate as Hinata takes advantage of the newly exposed skin.

He keeps at it until Yamaguchi feels light-headed, a little delirious with his laughter completely unchecked. The feather strays to flick up over his ear, and the whimpering laugh that comes out keeps Hinata there until Yamaguchi’s shoulder is twitching spastically of its own accord, desperately trying to stop the light, constant brush over his sensitive skin.

He gets a break—thank God—after a few minutes of this. Being dubbed most ticklish in the house (after many, many tests) has left him with pretty high stamina. But somehow a few minutes of Hinata and a feather has him panting for breath like he’d just finished a hundred laps around the gym.

Yamaguchi is so caught up in catching his breath (and trying to calm that tic in his shoulder) that he doesn’t really think about how breaks aren’t much of Hinata’s style either.

His floaty mind comes to bite him when he feels two soft points of contact touch down on his wrists.

His arms jolt on instinct. His elbows move a smidge in either direction but stick firm to the ground. Hinata’s smile takes on a wicked gleam and...oh boy.

If Yamaguchi gets out of this alive, the others will have some real competition for scariest tickler.

The feathers sweep back and forth, back and forth over his arms. They start at the wrist, and would almost feel nice if not for the impending sense of doom that has blood rushing through Yamaguchi’s ears right now.

The swaying movement drifts up, painfully slow. He doesn’t even think it tickles that much right now, but that doesn’t stop him from physically biting his lip to stop the snickers from making their way out.

It’s when the pair reach his inner elbow that first crack appears. Yamaguchi gasps and Hinata perks up, keeping the feathers there a moment longer, letting them sweep side to side a little faster.

From there the cracks spiderweb exponentially.

The gasp ends up turning into a snort. As Himata continues his path upward, it becomes a whine. And when he’s at the faint line where his skin darkens with a tan, from long summer days spent out in a t-shirt, he decides to flick the feathers in an alternating pattern over either arm.

It has Yamaguchi rocking back and forth in a way that he guesses might look kind of funny. Hinata starts laughing anyways. And of course, it’s enough to get Yamaguchi’s lips to loosen and let out the stream of bubbling giggles he’s been suppressing for far too long already.

His arms feel warm, almost as hot as his face, even though their air conditioning has been working pretty decently lately. There’s a faint tingly feeling still left where the feathers had once brushed his skin.

Everything already feels so sensitive, and Hinata isn’t even there yet.

There are butterflies having a—a mosh pit in his stomach right now. He can’t remember the last time he felt so wound up getting tickled. Then again, he can’t remember the last time Hinata put this much...care? Is that the right word for this situation? —into destroying him.

It makes Yamaguchi a little happy, for some reason.

And sometime about that moment seems to be the limit for Hinata’s concentration, because the change from gentle, teasing touches to his usual form of attack is both quick and excruciating.

The moment after, when Yamaguchi suddenly has two feathers sweeping fast little strokes under his arms, his brain completely short circuits.

What leaves his mouth can only be called a shriek and it’s quickly drowned out by the squeaky, panicked laughter that floods the room immediately.

His chest is jerking side to side in vain. There’s hair in his eyes and a little in his mouth from how violently he’s tossing his head around, but he can’t register a thing beyond the millions of wispy, light strands fluttering a fast track over and over and over the soft and sensitive skin beneath his restrained arms.

Hinata gets the bright idea to not try and jam the delicate things towards the floor anymore. He instead tries twirling them in a circular motion in the spaces underneath Yamaguchi’s arms.

Yamaguchi didn’t think his voice was high enough to screech like he used to, but ‘Hey, you learn something new everyday,’ he thinks, entirely delirious.

His back arches off the ground, head tossing back then pressing into his shoulder as if it’ll somehow smother his hysterical laughter.

It’s bright and desperate and so, so loud. Yamaguchi would typically only reach this point when someone’s feeling particularly ruthless with plenty of time to spare, but it could be hours since Hinata first got him pinned down; it sure feels like it.

There are weird little squeaks that pierce the air when he’s got the breath. His limbs are doing this constant squirm that’s got him feeling hot all over. His lashes feel wet and he knows it’s a matter of seconds before the tears start to fall.

But nothing is more prominent than the feeling of soft, soft, so very soft; and it tickles, it tickles, it really tickles.

———

When Yamaguchi’s brain finally starts rebuilding from the mush, hiccuping giggles making their way through his gasps for breath, he feels Hinata still sitting on top of him. Thankfully—mercifully—though, the feathers are nowhere to be seen, and his hands have been let free.

Seeing Hinata’s hand in his peripheral makes him flinch, but he just wipes at Yamaguchi’s cheek, brushing away the leftover moisture.

“I had to stop because you were starting to look like a strawberry,” Hinata grins. His skin is cool against Yamaguchi’s. He leans into the touch.

“So...was that awesome or what?” Hinata continues, voice energetic though he still rubs a soothing motion over Yamaguchi’s cheek.

Yamaguchi takes a second to reflect. On the dreamy tiredness seeping into his bones, the floaty high that fills up his head.

He nods, once or twice. Though from where Hinata’s sitting, it could just be Yamaguchi nuzzling into his hand. That’s fine. Yamaguchi could use the plausible deniability.

Once he’s been declared as officially ‘not a strawberry anymore,’ Hinata helps him up. He only stumbles a little bit, but of course Hinata has to poke fun.

“You know what that means?” Hinata throws out, arm linked with Yamaguchi’s as they make their way to a well-deserved seat on the couch.

Yamaguchi hums in response.

“We’ve gotta start building up your tolerance.”

Yamaguchi’s eyes widen, but he’s pushed onto the couch with a lap full of Hinata before he can say anything. He looks up at Yamaguchi all big eyes and a bigger smile. Yamaguchi swallows.

“We’re doing that again, soon.“

[erricdraven]

For the malec prompts, 7, t, 22 ? Feel free to change stuff if you prefer!

*so i used this to my advantage a bit so this can be read as a prequel-sequel to my previous fic the number of heartbeats between here and there. also it's a bit canon divergent because of the parameters of the request!* 7. deleted scene | t. secret relationship | 22. "i'm going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else."

To: Alexander – 1:23am

Did you still want me to come over tonight? I know it’s later than we had planned but…been thinking about you 🥰

To: Magnus – 1:26am

Sorry I was in the shower but yeah please come if you still can!

To: Alexander – 1:27am

Pretty boy.

To: Alexander – 1:27am

Handsome.

To: Alexander – 1:27am

Angel.

To: Magnus – 1:28am

…yeah?

To: Alexander – 1:28am

I always want to see you. Do you want to see me?

To: Magnus – 1:28am

Yes definitely

To Alexander – 1:29am

Then I’ll be over quicker than you can say my name

Magnus made his way around the sprawling architecture of the New York Institute, looking for the wing of living quarters. The buttresses that framed the familiar third-story window would have made fair footholds for scaling the building, but there were better methods available to him. Twisting his index and middle fingers, he summoned a dense amalgamation of magic beneath his feet that expanded upwards. Fortunately, Alec had left the window unlatched and slightly ajar, allowing Magnus to slip through and land soundlessly in a crouch.

Just as he straightened up, the bathroom door opened and damp steam from the shower billowed out. Alec emerged, naked save for a towel wrapped around his waist, but when he caught sight of Magnus, an almost smug smile pulled at his lips. “Hey,” he greeted, striding over to kiss him softly, one hand gently cradling Magnus’ cheek while the other held the towel in place at his hipbone.

“Is this for me?” Magnus teased, running the soft outer part of his forefinger along the damp skin of Alec’s bare chest. “How thoughtful.”

Alec laughed boisterously, his ears faintly pink with a warm blush. “Sorry to disappoint you but that was just a happy accident. Patrol ran late and I had to deal with— Well, that doesn’t really matter.”

Clicking his tongue in disapproval, Magnus shook his head. “How can I be disappointed with this outcome, unintentional as it may be.” He skated his palms up to Alec’s upper back and reverently drew them down across the planes of muscle until he got down to the small of his back. His fingertips dug into the soft skin above his buttocks needfully, pressing just hard enough that his blunt nails would leave behind little crescents if one were to look hard enough. “I still come out victorious in this scenario, I think.”

>> READ ON AO3

The way that Alec smiled at him, tired and weary but endlessly soft, made Magnus feel like his heart were being squeezed just this side of painful. It was the most vulnerable he had ever seen him, and it was simply theirs to share.

“Hey, Magnus… Why did you agree to this, us, like this?” Alec gestured vaguely. His eyebrows drew tightly together in consternation, and Magnus fought the urge to kiss the skin between into relaxing. “Why are you willing to hide with me?”

It had been a few weeks since their conversation about an arranged marriage for the sake of preserving the Lightwood legacy and foothold in the New York Institute. Maybe it was some kind of desperation that had driven Magnus to be so cavalier about his willingness to accept the “don’t ask, don’t tell” mentality of shadowhunters. The thought of losing the first spark of hope in love that he had had in over a century was excruciating, and concealing it so meticulously was a high price, but he was paying it. In a way, though, keeping this fragile thing between them a secret, left to grow in discretion, felt a little like a relief. Whatever it may be with time, it was theirs alone.

At the silence, Alec licked his lips nervously and started to say something.

Instead, Magnus held up a finger to his mouth to quiet him anticipatorily. Through a roguish grin, he said, “I’m going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else. I want to give that question the answer it deserves, but that’s a tremendous ask when you’re up against me like this.”

Alec rolled his eyes as if it were nothing more than a line, but there was something in his eyes that betrayed his self-satisfaction. And that was exactly what Magnus had intended. “All right, well then, look away.”

Magnus turned his back with exaggerated movements and crossed his arms over his chest with a smile. It was nice to have someone to be this way with again; it felt like liberation to have someone with whom he was free to be himself without the burden of titles and expectations. He was exposed when he stripped away the personas and facades that were like secondary skins. They were facets of himself that people expected him to have, but Alec never seemed to want him to be anything but Magnus. Not Magnus Bane, not High Warlock Bane, not Prince Regent of Edom.

“Are you decent?” Magnus teased after the sounds of fabric on skin had subsided.

In response, Alec came up behind him and leaned in just enough that his chest brushed Magnus’ back. “All done.”

Magnus shifted his weight to lean back into Alec lightly and reached back to thread his fingers into Alec’s still-damp hair. Softly scratching his nails through the soft strands made Alec hum contentedly. “We should sit so we can discuss your question.”

“Can we lay down?”

“Of course.”

They climbed on the bed over the sheets and comforter, and Alec immediately rolled over so Magnus could curl up behind him. He even lifted his arm away from his chest so Magnus could slide an arm over his hip bone and anchor his hand on his abdomen. This was something they had done once before—bearing their heart to anyone was hard for both of them, but this way made it a little easier.

Magnus took a slow breath, gathering his thoughts appropriately. “You’re a possibility, Alexander. A beautiful, liberating possibility that I’ve never had the fortune to come across in all my life.”

Ever melancholy, Alec replied, “How can you feel that way when I’m basically shoving you back in the closet with me, and asking you to sneak around and be ashamed of something that should be so simple. It makes me feel like a child to ask you to…stoop this low.”

“It was my choice, Alec. I chose to put myself in the position I’m in. And for the record,” Magnus added, pressing his lips to the back of Alec’s ear, “I’m glad that I did.”

Alec pressed back perceptibly closer to him, ducking his head to press into the crook of Magnus’ neck in a self-soothing gesture. “You’re not just saying that so that I feel less guilty, right? Because it doesn’t work if you don’t mean it.”

Many times throughout Magnus’ life he had been in the position of feeling at the disadvantage with the people he loved. He worried himself sick over whether he was being too clingy, too transparent, too vulnerable, and then he overcorrected and worried about being too aloof, too distant, and too unavailable. The cyclical questioning and self-doubt had ruined a lot of encounters before they even had the chance to become something concrete. Even now, there was a seed of doubt about what he was doing with Alec—maybe he was giving him too much credit, and maybe putting his own heart on the line was naïve.

“I don’t have the luxury of knowing what will come of this, Alexander,” he said carefully, “but I am certain that never giving it the chance would be something I would always regret. Will I always be content to be the soul of discretion in regards to you and what we may feel? Likely not. But you didn’t ask me for forever, and I’m not asking you either. I think both of us just needed the chance to be worth the risk of seeing it through to whatever end it might reach.”

Warm calloused fingers made their way down Magnus’ arm to lace between his own and squeeze gently. “I can live with that.”

Magnus chuckled and pressed a kiss to Alec’s hair. “I hope you can do more than that.”

“Mmm.” Alec yawned and rolled slightly, taking Magnus with him. “For now, though, I’m just going to sleep with it.”

“‘It’ being me?”

“By the angel,” Alec groaned, exasperated yet fighting a smile. “You talk too much sometimes.” Before Magnus could reply, he had captured his lips in a languorous kiss. Each one they shared felt like a discovery that Alec relished, unrehearsed and uncertain but wholehearted in the best way. The anticipation and enthusiasm of each new moment they shared was somehow so much better than any shared with Magnus’ most experienced ex-lovers.

Magnus pulled away just enough that their lips parted but their noses still touched. “I thought you wanted to sleep.”

“This is even better than my white noise machine. Having you here is…peaceful.”

“Aren’t you a romantic,” Magnus said dryly. But when Alec pulled him close again, he was helpless to resist.

>> PROMPT LIST

[juniorgman187]

Never Enough (Spencer Reid Drabble)

Summary: Ever wondered what Garcia wrote on that sticky note in the series finale? Read here to find out. When Reader, the new technical analyst, feels out of place at a party, Penelope’s sticky note and Reid’s kind words do just the trick.

A/N: This is a comfort piece for me, someone very introverted who never seems to do well in social gatherings. So this is dedicated to anyone who’s ever felt like they didn’t belong. You are loved. Couple: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Category: Fluff, Drabble Content Warning: Fear of exclusion, loneliness Word Count: 2.4k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

All my life, all I’d ever wanted was to be a social butterfly. Their lives seemed so easy. People would naturally flock to them, what with their charisma, their confidence, their natural gift of being conversational.

I envied them for the sole reason that I was nothing like them, not in the slightest.

It wasn’t easy for me to keep a conversation going, even if I was trying my very hardest, which was often the case. I could never seem to commandeer the room in the way that someone extroverted could, and it was especially hard sometimes to feel a part of everyone.

It would be too easy to say I was invisible. Instead, I felt painfully visible, and entirely ignored.

Everyone could see my shyness peeking through, everyone could see how alienated I’d become, everyone could see my despondence, and yet no one bothered to change it.

No one cared.

My excruciating awkwardness had reached an all-time high at Krystall’s birthday party.

Agent Rossi was so keen on inviting me, and I was honored to go since it’d be my first bonding experience with the team outside of work. I couldn’t turn down the opportunity to grow closer to them, otherwise, I’d run the risk of isolating myself even more. As if being brought in as the BAU’s new technical analyst to replace Penelope Garcia wasn’t enough of a reason for them to doubt, despise, and disrespect me, I was the introvert who had a hard time making friends - unlike my predecessor, who’ve I heard could make friends like nobody’s business. I knew I could never fill her shoes, much less fill the glaring void she created when she left, but still, I maintained my bright-eyes in hopes that I’d be enough for them, anyway. I was all too eager to get to know everyone as more than just my coworkers, with one exception.

Dr. Reid maintained an arm’s length distance from me at all times, and at first, I understood. I even empathized with him.

Besides SSA Morgan and SSA Hotchner, the only other person that he’d work the longest with was Penelope, and now she was gone, too, but the longer his rejection of me lasted, the more I was curious what he truly had against me, and the more I was less interested in changing that. Why would I work tirelessly at mending this broken friendship, if he wasn’t willing to meet me halfway?

I was more shocked that he, of all people, would be the most displeased with my arrival. When Agent Rossi replaced Agent Gideon, from what I heard, the transition wasn’t as rocky as mine. Dr. Reid was overjoyed to be working with him and to discuss all his books. When Jordan Todd, and eventually Ashley Seaver, took Agent Jareau’s place momentarily, he was happy to be working with them. When Alex Blake and Kate Callahan came in after Emily Prentiss, he welcomed them with open arms. So what was it about me that was so abhorrent to him?

I never outright asked, mainly because I feared confrontation and I also had no way of knowing if my curiosity would make the situation worse or better. But I should’ve. I should’ve marched right up to him and asked, “What’s your problem?”

Somehow, though, I finally got up the courage to do so tonight.

I watched as the team laughed at one of Rossi’s anecdotes, meanwhile, the inside jokes flew over my head, hindering that bonding experience I was so sure I’d get by coming here. So I stepped inside the house, wandering into a spare room, knowing I wouldn’t be missed.

I thought I’d only be there for a moment to get some “fresh air” even though I’d actually migrated from the outside to the inside, where there’d arguably be less fresh air, but that’d be my excuse if anyone came in. But I was forced to stay longer in the office when it finally happened.

I finally reached my breaking point.

It was building up all night. It started when I first stepped into the house. My confidence faltered almost immediately when I accidentally stepped on Rossi’s Italian leather dress shoe as I went to greet him. He told me not to worry, but of course, I did just the opposite. It was a minor bump in the road, something so minute, but still, it weighed on me thinking about how embarrassing it was that I dirtied something of his that everyone recognized as valuable.

My shame didn’t stop there. As I was talking with Krystall, there were many periods of awkward silence that I couldn’t manage to fill with words, so we each sipped at our wine until one of us would try to pick up the conversation. What’s worse was that we each knew the silence was suffocating, and I could tell we were both thinking of things to say to keep the conversation going, and yet, nothing worth saying came to mind.

And worst of all was when Penelope Garcia finally arrived at the party. Don’t misunderstand me - it wasn’t the worst part of all because she was bad - no, she was lovely. She gave me a welcome present - a Beanie Baby to put on my desk, evocative of her own style of decor, and I loved her for it, which made me hate her all the more.

Rossi’s house livened up when she came. Everyone flocked to greet her, laughter erupted and ricocheted off Rossi’s high ceilings. They were positively elated by her presence, truly happy. Which was the first time I’d ever seen them that way because frankly, they were never that happy with me.

It was a painful reminder that I could never bring what she brought to the team, and I could never be as good as her. And the general consensus I reached, sitting in Rossi’s office all alone with my glass of wine, was the same one I’d known for years now - I’m not enough.

And I will never be enough.

I hadn’t realized I was crying until a tear cascaded down my cheek, dripping right under my nose, forcing me to audibly sniffle it away. Using the sleeve of my cardigan, I desperately tried to wipe away the tears faster than they were spilling out, but it just wasn’t possible. In fact, the coarse fabric of my cardigan rubbing against my cheeks only made them redder, making the fact that I was unwell that much more obvious.

The sound of the doorknob turning sent me into overdrive, automatically engaging me into turning around and facing the wall so that whoever was coming in wouldn’t find me in the state that I was in. I sniffled a great big sniffle and fanned my face to dry it of any moisture that my silent sobs could’ve left.

“Sorry, Rossi, I was just getting some fresh air and I thought I’d check out your book collectio-”

When I turned around, Rossi wasn’t standing there as I’d assumed.

In fact, the person standing there was the last person I thought it’d be.

“Dr. Reid?”

He was lingering in the doorway, studying my face, to which I instantly preventing from continuing on any further by cowering my head and looking away.

“What are you doing here?” My voice had taken a tone of anger that I didn’t anticipate to be there originally.

“Are you okay?”

To my surprise, his question seemed sincere, but I couldn’t truly believe it was.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just allergies from being outside for so long. The pollen and stuff, you know?” I rambled nervously.

“Oh, really? Are you allergic to the grass?” He asked in a joking manner, knowing I was lying but still asking so that he’d have the satisfaction of getting to see me try and work my way out of the situation.

“Yes, I am actually. The most common outdoor allergy triggers are trees, grass, weed pollen, mold spores, dust mites, cockroaches, and cat, dog, and rodent dander. Don’t you know this? After all, you’re the one with the IQ of 187 here, not me.” I tried to joke to lighten up the room’s heaviness, but clearly, it didn’t work.

By this time, I’d already turned back to face the wall, so Reid surely couldn’t see me, but I heard the door click shut behind me, and a wave of anxiety permeated my soul.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?”

I scoffed at his question, almost hitting him back with an “As if you care.” But I decided against it in an effort to preserve what little repose we had left between us.

“Will you please tell me what’s wrong?” He sounded like he was begging - like he was practically willing to go on his hands and knees to get me to answer, but all I could focus on was the feeling of his hot breath ghosting over my neck.

Goosebumps rose on my skins once he put his warm hand on my cold shoulder, which was bare from the absence of my cardigan and where it had slipped down to my elbow.

I flinched at the sensation, causing him to recoil.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” He quickly apologized, regret filling his eyes. “Um, you look nice by the way. I like the way you did your hair. A-and your dress. It looks nice.”

Not even giving a chance to respond to his compliment, I asked again, “Why are you here?” Pressing him to get the point faster before I had a chance to react at another one of his physical advances.

“I saw you leave the backyard and I thought I should check on you.”

“Well, you’ve checked on me, so you can go back now.” I didn’t miss a beat when responding, fooling him into thinking that I didn’t catch his words and their intentions.

“I just want to talk.” He replied, finally answering my question from before.

“Okay. Let’s talk.”

He took a seat on a chaise lounge sofa while I stayed standing by the bookcase in preparation for a quick escape if need be.

“I’m sorry I’ve been pushing you away. That wasn’t fair of me.”

Although I hadn’t expected him to apologize, I wasn’t going to be misled and naively accept his apology with no reservations.

“Why did you do it? And for so long?”

“I was angry. I didn’t want another person in my life that I cared about to walk away, so I thought maybe if I made you feel unwelcome, you wouldn’t want to stay. And she’d come back.”

It hurt to say, but at least I knew he was being honest.

“I accept your apology, but it’s not okay.”

“I know that.”

“Okay, are we good now? We’ve talked, so,” My hand gestured toward the door, suggesting he should leave, but he didn’t comply.

“I’m not leaving.”

“And why not?” The wine glass in my hand nearly shattered at the way my hand wrapped around it since its presence hindered me from being able to actually clench my fists.

“I didn’t come here to apologize, even though I should’ve sooner. But I came here because I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Like you care.” I chuckled mirthlessly.

“I do care.”

I gave in, not wanting to fight him any longer, otherwise, I might cry some more from the altercation.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” He shook his head. “I know you’re not fine. What’s really wrong, Y/N?”

I looked away immediately from his gaze, trying to hide the sheen that was inevitably coating my eyes from the presence of tears, but he would’ve known I was crying the minute I used the cuff of my cardigan to wipe under my nose again.

“I just . . . I feel so unconnected,” I whispered, the pain of my words stealing my volume. “I don’t fit in. And I’ve never fit in before, but I actually thought this might be my chance.”

“It still is. Just come back outside.”

“You don’t get it!”

“What don’t I get?”

“I just needed to take a moment to compose myself so I wouldn’t ruin the energy of the room. And I’d really like to do that alone, okay?”

“I know you don’t want me to go.”

“What?”

“You’re testing me to see if I’ll stay.”

“No, I’m not.”

“So you’re saying that if I left right now, you wouldn’t regret letting me walk away?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“I know you’re lying to me.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Yes, you are. I know what it looks like when you lie. Wanna know how I know?”

I entertained his question out of pure frustration “How?”

“Because I pay attention to you. I see your mannerisms. I notice everything. Do you think I haven’t picked up on how you crack your knuckles when you’re nervous? Or how your stutter goes away when you talk about technology? Or how your fists clench, like how you’re doing right now?”

My eyes flickered to my fist that was wrapped so tightly around the glass, my knuckles were white. Out of shame, I loosened my grip.

“I pay attention because I care. And I’m sorry that I made you ever believe that I didn’t. What you do, and say, and think - it’s important. So no, I’m not leaving. I’m staying right here to give you the attention you deserve.” He sighed with a breath of relief. “I care more about you than whatever’s happening out there.”

And slowly, then all at once, that barrier between us broke down.

“I care about you. We all do. And when you’re ready, we can walk back out there together so that you can see for yourself just how much we care.”

. . . That night, I made nine more friends.

And the day we came back to work, with my Beanie Baby in hand, I rearranged my desk.

A folded up sticky note fell out from between two tables. I picked it up, recognizing the handwriting instantly.

Penelope Garcia.

Even when the laughter always seems to come from the other room and the world seems busy as it carries on without you, may you know this to be true. No matter who or what made you feel invisible, unworthy, unloved, or unseen, in this ever-moving world, there is still a place for you. And you are exactly in the place where you are meant to be.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

quote by morgan harper nichols

[buckyownsmylife]

v e l o c i t y - final chapter

The one where John’s your true mate, but he doesn’t want you to be his.

In a universe where fate grants you a new mate whenever you lose yours, John has lived quite comfortably for many years with the knowledge that he was alone after Mary. That all comes crumbling down the second that he meets you. How could the universe choose someone so young to be his omega?

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist.

A/N: this is it, everyone. Thanks for hanging out this far! I hope you’ve enjoyed the ride 😘

John’s P.O.V.

I knew something was wrong even before I left her. A wendigo just a two-hour drive away, should be a quick job and one I didn’t think she was quite ready for yet, so I took the boys and trusted her to be alone in the bunker for a little while.

I hadn’t anticipated the job to take over a day. I hadn’t anticipated having to sleep away from her body for the first time since I relented and allowed myself to get close to her.

But I particularly hadn’t anticipated the effect this first physical separation would have on the both of us, like it was our body’s way of punishing me for not claiming the woman who was meant for me.

Of course, my cells couldn’t tell I hadn’t really abandoned her. To them, I was ignoring everything my instincts wanted. I couldn’t really tell my own body everything was going to be alright because all it knew was that I couldn’t scent my unmated omega, and that was against every Alpha’s nature.

“Dad, are you alright?” I turned to stare at Dean, who was frowning up at me from where he was sat on the motel’s couch, trying to help Sam find out something about this damn thing we’d been hunting.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” I scoffed, not interested in letting my kids see behind the mask of control I always put on. “Keep reading, we gotta get to the bottom of this.”

But my voice faltered, catching Sam’s otherwise occupied attention. He glanced up at me quickly before doing a double-take, concern written all over his features.

“Dad, you don’t look so good,” he pointed out, and the uneasiness inside of me had me aggressively growling at him, wanting to get this over with so I could go back to my omega.

“Boy, just fucking do your research, will ya?” I pointed towards the computer, waving my arms around before I decided to take out my jacket, sweat pouring out of me and making my shirt stick to my chest.

I could hear Sam’s unimpressed hum, but I was trying very hard not to take out on them this feeling of distress that was raising inside of me, so I decided to ignore it.

“Alright,” Sam conceded, even if I could still hear the disbelief in his tone. “But if you’re like this, can you imagine what she must be going through right now?”

The thought had me freezing, worry consuming my every thought. I hadn’t considered that before he suggested it to me, and just that fact had guilt burning my stomach, the knowledge that I had failed as her Alpha cutting through me.

“I have to get to her.” My hands were already reaching for the car keys, I could see the boys nodding from my peripheral vision. “I have to go home.”

They stayed behind as I went to the door, Dean awkwardly waving while reminding me to come pick them up once we were “settled”. “There’s no way I’m going to that bunker while they’re like this,” I heard him say to Sam, and I can’t say that I minded.

I couldn’t even think about it. All that mattered was my girl, and how quickly I could get to her.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I don’t think I’d ever felt agony such as this. Sweat covered every inch of my body, my fingers incessantly working my clit as I shook with the need to feel John near me.

It took me by surprise, this overwhelming urge to cum, a desperate calling from deep within my bones that took me to his bedroom before I could even rationalize it. Buried in his sheets, it was almost possible to pretend that he was here.

Almost.

I just wish that I was able to hold myself together for long enough to call him, let him know of my state. As it were, I couldn’t stop touching myself for long enough to do anything. All I could think about was my need to be filled, my need to be claimed, fucked, owned in every possible way.

I knew the smell of my wetness was almost unbearable by now, taking over the entire bunker in an effort to call for my alpha. I almost pitied the boys once they returned to find me like this, but right now, I couldn’t care. This need had me drenching his bedsheets and all that was left for me to do was hope and pray that John was coming home soon.

Seconds melted away into hours while I stood there, delirious in desire, hopeless in need. The only sounds I could detect in the empty bunker were of my own overwhelming wetness as I slowly fucked myself to an unsatisfying orgasm, over and over and over again.

So when the door opened up to reveal a distressed and disheveled John, I honestly thought I would cry.

“Jo-Alpha,” I moaned, overcome with excruciating longing. Now that he was here, my body suddenly relaxed before my muscles became tense again, all at once. “I need you.”

And I truly did. The scent of him was enough to calm me down for a millisecond before it turned up the need in my omega nature, calling out to him so he’d finally do what both of our bodies so desperately needed.

“I came as fast as I could,” he admitted, hands making quick work of his own clothes, and the relief I felt inside of me as I realized he wasn’t going to fight this anymore was simply unbelievable. “As soon as I realized…” He didn’t finish himself then, almost falling over as he tripped on his jeans, eager to get closer to me, his body as needy for mine as I was for him.

“I couldn’t handle imagining you suffering half as much as I was, ‘mega.” He climbed the bed still half-dressed, even if only in his boxers, but the second that his skin touched mine, I was thankful for it.

It was enough to calm down my cells - for now. He rubbed his nose against my scent gland, sending the signal it needed to understand that everything was okay, my Alpha was here now.

“I’m sorry that I left,” he whispered against my skin, body molding against mine until I felt pleasantly suffocated by his weight. “I should have known better. Should have known I’d be hurting us both.”

Now that he was here and I could feel his warmth, the pain had faded away, leaving only the overwhelming need to be filled. I didn’t want to hear his excuses, I knew he didn’t mean to hurt me this time.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I assured him, hands traveling down the expanse of his large back to reach for his boxers. “Just fuck me.” A growl escaped John at my request, driving me even crazier with need. “Fuck me, please, Alpha,” I begged. “I can’t take this anymore.”

I wasn’t exaggerating. I was about to lose my damn mind. And when John pushed away just enough to connect his eyes to mine, analyzing my state, and whispered, “I’m not gonna be able to hold back,” the whine that escaped me was barely even human.

It seemed to be exactly what he wanted to hear though, because it led him to press open-mouthed, wet kisses against my cheek, trailing down my jaw and neck until he was right over my scent gland, lips engulfing it.

“I’m gonna ruin you, little girl.” Whimpering, I desperately rubbed my drenched cunt against the boner still covered by his boxers, all while he took a hold of my wrists and pinned them to the bed. “And you’re gonna love it.”

I had no doubts about it. When his lips met mine, drowning me in his kiss, I gave myself completely to him, fully immersed in the dance our mouths performed, distracted from the overwhelming emptiness that I felt for just a second.

“Let me make you feel good, baby girl.” It was a new pet name that he’d been using for a few weeks, and it always made me instantly wet. Hearing it in this context though, had me going absolutely feral.

John’s P.O.V.

My hands roamed all over her perfect body, unable to believe that I finally had it completely exposed to my gaze. I silently thanked myself for having let the lights on when I walked into the room, desperate to calm her down. It allowed me to fully take in the beauty underneath me, about to become completely mine.

“Fuck,” I breathed out as I filled my hands with her breasts. “This all for me, ‘mega?” She just whined, nodding slowly as I licked my lips in explicit hunger. She was so soft. And she became even softer as her muscles relaxed underneath my touch, her body finally surrendering to her Alpha.

“There you go, little girl…” I grunted in appreciation, slowly unglueing our bodies so I could stare down at where she was sticky and taunting. “’Ve been dying to taste you.” It came out more as a mumble as I thought out loud, crawling backward to reach her sensitive little pussy. 

The scent of her was overwhelming, begging me to reach out and dive right in, but just before I could, she seemed to snap out of whatever trance she was in, fingers wrapping on on my hair and pulling hard as she fought.

“No!” Caught by surprise, I pushed her down by the inside of her thighs, forcing her to spread them open, letting me take in the beautiful sight of her wetness despite the burn on my scalp.

“Just a little taste, baby girl…” I negotiated, tongue already stretching to reach her, take in her sweetness. She was as delicious as I’d expected, and it was impossible not to go back for seconds, bury my face against her hole, try to get as much of her juices as I possibly could.

“Please, please, stop!” She argued, desperate to be filled, but I wasn’t done with her yet. So I tapped two fingers against her pouty lips, still licking away at her pussy.

“Open up.” It took her a while to did as I told, but as soon as she obeyed, allowing me to run my digits over her lips, I buried those two fingers inside her mouth, silencing her complaints so I could peacefully eat out this cunt like I wanted to.

A light bite had me inhaling sharping, wishing I had enough self-control to bury my cock in her mouth, make her choke on it, but that would be for later. “Behave,” I ordered, going back to sloppily eating her out.

It didn’t take too long for her to flood my mouth with her essence, which was everything I wanted and the last thing missing for me to completely snap. Chest heaving, I leaned down to cover her neck with my hand, tilting her face to the side so I could look at where I wanted to leave my mark on her.

“Are you ready, omega?” She opened her eyes then, almost out of it as she blinked rapidly to be able to focus on me. When she did, taking in the image of me hovering over her, my cock finally out, she immediately started whining.

“Please, Alpha, please!” I couldn’t take it anymore and I knew she didn’t, either. So I connected her lips to mine one more time, and stuffed my dick inside of her, thankful that the overwhelming wetness helped me push it in without much problem.

I would not have been able to be patient. The second the head of my cock breached her, her tightness was so staggering that I audibly hissed, needing to part from her mouth to try to get some control over my own body but quickly realizing I’d lose that battle.

My hips started acting on their own accord, thrusting in and out of her while she gasped and clawed at my back, ecstatic comments of, “Fuck,” and “Yes,” slipping from her lips.

“So fucking tight,” I groaned, watching where we were joined in fascination. “But we fit so well.” The sounds of her drenched cunt swallowing my dick were only adding to my arousal, getting me to fuck her faster and harder with each thrust.

“You were meant to take me, little girl,” I panted over her, riding us both to our highs, desperate to get her to cum for me again, this time around my cock. “This is where you belong now, huh? Right here, underneath me, filled by my dick.”

Feeling her from the inside, witnessing just how tight she was while still being able to fuck her just showed me how much we really were made for each other. Shame washed over me as I thought back on how much I tried to fight this. “Cum for me, baby girl,” I softly whispered, taking in her blissed expression, trying to distract myself from the guilt. “Cum for your Alpha.”

Her body went taut underneath me, unable to disobey my direct order, but it was clear that she had reached her limit anyway. She looked so good with her eyes screwed shut and mouth hanging open, gasping for air and moaning at the same time, that I didn’t want to look away, but a pressing urge was clawing at me, and I knew it would soon take over.

It was time to claim her.

My mouth settled over her scent gland, engulfing it completely as my teeth marked her for the world to see. Her screams of pleasure became laced with pain, but the way she held me down to her body let me know she was enjoying this, as painful as it was.

When it was done, my pace changed to a slower rhythm, trying to get used to this new bond, the way I felt her pleasure intertwined in mine.

“Finally,” she joked a little breathlessly, making me laugh as I nuzzled her neck. “Does it still feel wrong to you?” I knew she was trying to pass it off as teasing, but the emotion was clear in her tone - and I could feel her vulnerability now.

Opening up a smile, I pecked her lips before assuring her, “Nothing has ever felt this right.” I knew she was feeling sensitive, but I could also feel her need for more, her need for me rising. She needed my knot, and I was going to give it to her.

Tears had started to flow down her cheeks, but her smile let me know it was more happiness than anything else. So I kissed away the wet paths they left behind as I kept rutting in and out of her, knowing there was absolutely no way of stopping myself from spilling inside her tight warm cunt.

Her body instinctively pulled away, trying to escape my knot, but I pulled her closer, burying myself as far as I could reach while nuzzling the mark that announced her as mine. “Oh, you’re not going anywhere, omega.”

At the sound of her title, she finally relaxed, just as I began filling her up, my mouth rebranding her all over again. “You belong to me now,” I sighed, resting my head on her chest as her hands wrapped around my back.

It was quiet in the room then, both of us catching our breaths and relishing in each other’s presence, knowing we’d never feel alone again. I kissed her temple as I adjusted us so she’d be laying on my chest, my knot still settled deep inside of her when I started to caress her skin.

“I hope you’re ready, little girl,” I teased. “We’ll be spending a lot of time like this from now on.” I could feel her smile against me, giving me a quick kiss before retorting, “You may be surprised to know this, John Winchester, but I really don’t mind the idea of spending the rest of my life in this bed with you.”

[fallout4reactsblog]

You know what would be super sweet? (bittersweet?) If hancock or piper got into some kinda trouble while going to try and visit sole again and sole rescues them despite the tension?

Piper kicked a pebble, watching it ping off the walls of the Red Rocket’s garage. Travel from Diamond City had taken longer than anticipated--damn those bloodbugs--and she’d gotten to Sanctuary so late that it seemed rude to barge in and demand to see sole. After all, sole hadn’t forgiven her, so this didn’t seem to be the time to start becoming a nuisance.

“Stop it,” Hancock said from the corner. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

“Aren’t you even a little bit nervous?” she huffed, but nonetheless abandoned the rock and perched on a stool.

“Of course I am. But I know that gettin’ myself worked up about it won’t help anything.”

“I know that, but it’s still nerve-wracking. I mean...” She glanced toward Sanctuary almost subconsciously. “We did kinda make enemies out of the most dangerous person in the Commonwealth.”

“You think I don’t know that? Half my town up and cleared out after Nick showed up and punched me in the face. Sole didn’t even have to say a word.”

Piper was referring to the fact that sole could kill either of them in under a minute, but she supposed Hancock’s point was apt, too. Sole had a way with people, sometimes without even knowing it.

They’d tuned the radio to Diamond City Radio almost as soon as they got in, and “The End of the World” softly played from the corner to fill the silence. Piper quietly hummed along, trying to ignore how her foot bounced with her nerves.

In the corner, Hancock said, “Stop making so much noise.”

“I’m not making any noise,” she said. “Stop being a prick about it.”

“I can hear that scrapin’ noise you’re making. Stop.”

“I’m not making any-”

She cut herself off, hearing the noise he was talking about. Like a screwdriver scraping along the side of a car. She pushed herself off the stool to poke her head through the windows of the convenience store.

A deathclaw stared back.

“Shit!” She reeled back instinctively and nearly fell before scrambling into the garage and slamming the button to close the door.

“What’s the fuss?”

“Deathclaw,” she gasped out. “Outside.”

“Here?” Hancock frowned and glanced up from under the brim of his hat. “Nah. Sole’s defenses should keep those things at bay.”

“Yeah, but there are no defenses here. Nobody lives here.”

The garage rattled to a close just as the Deathclaw figured out where the sound was coming from. The unholy screech of claws on metal echoed through the building.

“Guess that leaves this to us, huh?”

Hancock pushed himself off of his stool, and she frowned at him. “You ever try to fight one of these things by yourself?”

He glanced over at her. “Have you?”

“Never without sole. I just run.”

“First time for everything.”

She stared down at her pistol nervously. It didn’t seem like much against the monster outside, but Hancock seemed confident. Surely, he knew what he was doing.

“We’ll go out the door and sneak up on it.”

Another screech. Piper flinched instinctively and debated running for the back room and locking herself in there, but instead got to her feet. Carefully, she followed Hancock to the door, trying to stay quiet lest they draw the thing’s attention early. 

Hancock counted them in, and on three they burst from the door. Piper sighted up on the thing, trying to aim for the stomach, because she thought sole had mentioned that was their weak point. Hancock had mercifully decided to take the sane way of doing things, and a shotgun blast echoed off the building. With a roar, the deathclaw turned to them, beady eyes zeroing in on their position.

It whipped a clawed hand back, and they split to dodge its strike. Piper ducked around the corner to reload, breathing hard. Were they even hurting this thing? It didn’t look like it.

Shaking her head, she turned back around, leveling her gun for another round of gut shots. Most hit the thing’s legs or arms, merely denting its natural armor, but a few found their mark, drawing blood.

With another roar, the deathclaw reared back, raising up for another strike, Hancock in its line of fire. He’d glanced away for a second to reload.

One second too long.

Effortlessly, the creature batted him to the side, slamming him against the building. He fell limp, shotgun scattering across the pavement. Piper gasped, and it turned toward her, now. Instinctively, she took a step back. Running now wouldn’t be too terrible a moral compromise, would it?

A gunshot broke the air, followed by the sound of laser musket fire. A familiar voice shouted orders, and Piper looked over just in time to see sole coming into view, Preston and Nick by their side and a charging KLEO right behind. She allowed herself a sigh of relief as sole began calling out the deathclaw’s movements, directing their friends to take it down as quickly as possible.

When the dust had cleared and the thing had given its dying roar, sole’s eyes turned towards her. For a brief moment, they made eye contact before sole sighed and turned toward Hancock, pulling a stimpack from their belt.

“Up you go,” they said, jabbing it into his thigh. By the way he winced, Piper could tell they might have been a little more aggressive than necessary.

“Thanks,” she managed to say.

They turned toward her again, face unreadable. “Don’t mention it. Seems you were in a little over your heads.”

She could only nod in agreement.

“I guess you’d better spend the rest of the night in Sanctuary. You’d have to be stupid to try to sleep somewhere undefended.”

They deserved that one, so Piper said, “Thanks,” again.

“It’ll be a tough squeeze, but we can find a bed for you somewhere, I’m sure.”

“There’s some room with me, General,” Preston said, helping Hancock to his feet. “I’ll keep an eye on them.”

Piper bit her lip, then said, “So does this mean we’re not banned from Sanctuary anymore?”

Sole’s brows furrowed slightly. “For now, at least. You might as well stay for awhile if you both came all this way. But Nick’s gonna watch you like a hawk.”

Piper glanced toward the aforementioned detective, unconsciously touching her cheek where a small scar still remained from their last meeting. He didn’t look at her, not that she blamed him. Nat had explained to her in excruciating detail all the ways she’d messed up her relationship with Nick and Ellie, something she was reminded of every time Ellie avoided her gaze in the market.

She looked away. She’d probably never repair her relationship with Nick, not really, but maybe if she made things right with sole, he’d at least speak to her.

“Follow me,” sole said. “I’ll show you where you’re staying.”

They made their way into Sanctuary. True to his word, there were a few spare sleeping bags in the house Preston was staying in, and sole lent them a few extra blankets to pad the floor a bit more.

“We’ll talk in the morning,” they said, stepping out the door. “For now, sleep. You’ll need it.”

Hancock fell asleep almost instantly, which she couldn’t blame him for. He’d been thrown into a building, after all. Unfortunately, that left her and Preston staring at each other in the dark. She wasn’t sure what to say to him, after all, she wasn’t sure how he even felt about her. For all she knew, he hated her guts.

“Some night, huh?” she said, testing the waters.

He nodded. “Some night. It’s not every day you get jumped by a deathclaw.”

They were quiet for a moment before he asked, “Did you come up here to talk to sole about anything specific.”

“No.” She shifted awkwardly. “I just, you know, wanted to see how they were doing. See how things... were between us, I guess.”

“Well, I can’t help you there. Good luck, though.”

“Thanks.” She blew a long breath. “Any word on Nick?”

He winces in a way she hopes is sympathetic. “You’ll have better luck with sole.”

“Figures. Thanks, Preston.”

“At least they came to save you. That has to count for something, right?”

She sighed. “Right. It has to count for something.”

[deepdarkdelights]

Stay (Jimin x Reader)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: None really, this isn’t yandere babes. Uh, I guess the topic of death and dying? Yeah, we’ll go with that.

This is NOT a part of my current series I am writing, this is separate much like “The Darkness of The Night.”

A/N: This is just a little something I made a while ago when I was not feeling the best, tbh I was really depressed. So, this is something to give everyone while I work on the next part of my series. I hope you enjoy it, even though it’s short and nothing like my other fics. It’s pretty corny tbh and most definitely been done before lmao.

There was nothing, that much I knew. And by nothing, I mean nothing. The sky was an absent stretch of swirling dark grey clouds, no light able to permeate through their thick cover. The world was one that had been plunged into darkness, devoid of the sky, devoid of the ground, and devoid of life. It was just the dark mist overhead and me. 

It was quiet, not that soothing deep quiet kind, but the kind that made your ears ring, the kind that reminded you that you were completely, utterly alone. But, it wasn’t scary. Just dark, and quiet, and familiar.

I felt numb, my limbs buzzing like they had fallen asleep and my lips were left tingling. It felt like I had been asleep for a very long time or maybe awake for far too long. It was this strange limbo in between the two, almost indiscernible. Was I even alive, had I ever been born? What is this strange but familiar place? This place that held no name, no life, and no meaning was now harboring me. But, I was left without an explanation. 

“Hello?” I called, “Is anyone there?”

My voice echoed out into the void, bouncing against an invisible force before returning to me once again.

“Hello?!” I tried once more, only to be met with the same response. An echo and a void, my own voice being tossed back to me in a way that sounded foreign. Like it wasn’t fully mine. 

What is this place? My mind felt as if a thick fog had curled around it, squeezing and tightening as if it were trying to subdue me back into that calm and apathetic way I had felt upon awakening. It was as if this place was aware of me and that I didn’t belong there, like it was alive. Was I not supposed to be awake, or whatever it is that you call this? 

“Can anyone hear me?!” I cried out, grunting as the pressure in my head doubled. The mist hovering in the empty seemed to thicken, darkening the veil around me as I stumbled about like a newborn deer. The pressure in my head was pounding now, harder and heavier than before as the mist began to swallow me whole, pressing me down closer into myself as I struggled to stand and force the invisible foe away. This place was awake and I was not supposed to be. In the span of only a few moments the calm had raged and turned into a storm.

“Please!” I gasped, “Please, let me go, I need to go! I can’t stay, I don’t want to stay!”

The mist only grew thicker, heavier, and angrier, pressing down into me and forcing me into submission. It did not care about what I wanted, that I had this feeling that something was horribly wrong and if I chose to stay then something bad would happen. My mind was foggier, it felt like an invisible force was pressing down into the curve of my spine and folding me into the deep mist surrounding me. I felt like I was drowning in the depths of the ocean where no one could hear me, where no one could save me. 

“I want to live,” I whimpered. “I want to live.”

And suddenly, there was a shift. What had felt like hundreds of hands holding me down became weightless and gentle. And there was light, beautiful, beaming, golden light that was so bright it burned my eyes just looking at it. I raised my forearm to shield my eyes and settled my weight onto my knees. Before, it had felt like I was dying. Now, it was like air was rushing into me and lifting me up, cradling me and comforting me. But it was far too bright and far too beautiful. It was painful all the same.

“Come to me.” A voice whispered so quietly it was like it was barely there. I held myself still, eyes closed and waiting, anticipating the sweet lull of the voice to call me again. And sure enough, it was there.

“Come to me.” It cooed, its sweet trill beckoning me to come forward and into its arms. 

I stumbled to my feet, spinning around wildly in an attempt to see the user of such a melodic voice. The person I could only assume was my savior. 

“Where are you?” I whispered, turning on my heels once more in search of the voice so rapidly I couldn’t see once more. Not only blinded by the stunning light, but the desperate spirals I was making in search for the voice. 

“Come find me.” It called back, this time sounding even softer and farther than before.

First I took one step, then another, and another, and finally I was running. I ran straight into the golden mist, stumbling through the blinding light in search of the siren that called to me. I still did not know where I was, what this place was, and who called to me but I did know one thing, I needed to find them. I needed to know who called to me and who wanted me to find them.

The light stretched onward, touching the entirety of the misty emptiness but seemingly extended with no end in sight. 

“Won’t you come find me?” It spoke again, this time a little clearer and a little stronger. 

“I’m coming! Please, don’t leave me alone, please!” I gasped, urging my legs to move faster through the veil of mist that curled around my calves, still begging me to stay in the depths of the void.  

“Please come find me, I need you.” The voice continued, it was like I could feel it reaching out towards me even though there was only the blinding light in front of me and all around me. I wanted them so badly, I needed to feel their touch, their embrace, and to see their face again.

“I miss you so much baby, please come home to me.” It urged, the voice becoming even clearer than before. I could tell now, this was a man and his voice was so familiar it made my heart ache in my chest, pounding as I ran even faster towards him. I could make it through, I would make it through for him. 

“Live for me, God I’m begging you to live for me because I can’t take one more day without you.” He said, his voice cracking as he continued. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, and I know this is so selfish but please come back sweetheart, I can’t live without you.” 

“You’re not selfish!” I yelled into the light, my legs working even harder than before. “I want to come home, I want to come home to you! This was my fault, I was the one who left but I don’t want to leave anymore!” 

Tears were running down my face, blinding me even more than the light had. So many memories of him were there, hidden in my mind. Soft blonde hair, a sweet smile, and deep brown eyes that begged for me to stay. But I hadn’t and I ended up hurting the both of us in the end. 

“I was scared! I thought we were moving too fast and I was the one who left, I was the one who was selfish!” That was right, he wanted to marry me and I had left. It was dark that night, the fog was so thick that I couldn’t see anything. 

“You look so small.” He whispered, the skin of my hand bursting to life with tingles. “So small compared to all of this stuff you’re hooked up to.”

His voice was closer, the closest its been this entire time. But with the clarity of his sweet voice, there also came the pain. It was terrible, excruciating, pain. It stung throughout my jaw and head, sliced at my legs, punctured my arm, and punched me straight in the sternum. It hurt so bad to be this close to him, this close to the sun but it was worth it beyond measure. The pain was terrible but his voice was beautiful. I would take all the pain in the world if it meant I could be with him again, if I could start all over again. 

“When they found you, I was so scared.” He cried. “They thought you were dead and I felt like I was dying too. But you held on, baby, you did so well. If you want to go, I’ll let you but I’m begging you to try for me because I don’t want to live in a world where I won’t see you everyday. Where you won’t make fun of me, or kiss me, or wake me up with that beautiful smile.”

“I don’t want to go!” I screamed, falling to my knees as the pain worsened. I reached forward, fingers curling into the mist and pulling me forward, the pain splintering off down my fingers and up my arm.

“I want to see you every morning, I want to stay with you, and I want to marry you! I don’t care how much it hurts because I love you!” I panted, dragging myself forward with what strength I had left. The light burned brighter and ignited the pain, bringing me down to the absent ground. A loud ringing sounded through the air, becoming louder and louder as my eyes began to flutter tiredly. 

“Please, I need him.” I insisted as my body became heavier, the darkness rushing up behind me and attempting to latch its tendrils to my weak limbs. “I don’t want to go back to sleep, please let me go.”

“I’ll wait as long as you need me to,” he sobbed, “just please don’t go.”

“Don’t take me away from him, not yet.” I mumbled as the light dimmed and the darkness began to swirl around me again, pulling me deeper into its welcoming embrace. “I love him.”

The ringing only became louder and constant, jarring me as I felt the darkness wrap itself around me even tighter. His voice was gone, and the light was gone. Now, it was just me, the ringing, and the thick coat of darkness that swaddled me. 

“Go.” It whispered. 

The ringing became solid, melding into constant and consistent beeps. The air was light and smelled sharp and the lighting was dim and soothing. My hand was warm and my body was stiff, immovable from the immense pain that wracked through me. With all the effort I could manage to muster, I slowly opened my eyes again. They were heavy and puffy from sleep, struggling to fully open and take in the world around me. The walls were white, the floor was white, and the sheets on the bed were the same shocking shade. But he was there, with soft blonde hair and big sweet brown eyes staring at me in shock. 

“I’ll stay, Jimin.”

[animebaby00]

I Don't Deserve It: Chapter 2

Summary: When Shoto gets a nasty stomach bug, Izuku stops at nothing to help and take care of him.

But Shoto can't help but wonder...

Why?

(Link to Chapter 1) ⬇️

Shoto wasn't sure if he was actually awake the next time he opened his eyes considering that when he did so, it was oddly dark in the place he currently resided. He had to blink a few times and weakly rub at his eyes to help his vision become accustomed to his surroundings. But even after doing so, he still wasn't sure where he was.

Upon casting his eyes to the right, he could see the thin outline of sunlight coming from between a pair of closed curtains. He felt a soft weight on his legs and torso from what he could assume were sheets and maybe a few blankets. But everything else looked a blur.

In his best attempt, he tried to focus on the events from earlier. He had woken up, feeling absolutely terrible, and that in itself hadn't changed. Shoto could still feel the underlying pressure of a headache pounding in his temples, his skin still felt sticky with sweat, his body felt like it had been trampled by a stampede of elephants, and his stomach was tight and queasy. 

And it was then the moments in the bathroom slowly began to enter back into his mind. 

He remembered collapsing against the sink, how nauseated he had felt, and how his body simply wouldn't listen to him as it completely gave into the last thing he had wanted to do. He had collapsed by the toilet, waited those few last agonizingly anticipated seconds before everything he had eaten the day before came back up in a half-digested mess. 

Shoto couldn't exactly remember the last time he had thrown up. The last memory he had was when his father had punched him in the stomach due to weakness. Though the feeling had felt somewhat the same, it also carried many differences.

The the quick puddle of bile that had left his body in comparison to the painful dry heaves, the chills in comparison to the tears, the fearful, small frame of his mother buy his side as his father barked orders for him to get up in comparison to...the warm hand he had felt on his back while another hand kept his hair away from his face.

The person that had actually...helped him.

Midoriya.

A sound that was an odd combination of a groan and a scoff left Shoto's throat. How could he let himself get to this point? Sure, Midoriya had helped him in the past, but that had been during situations that were near the serious point of life and death. Not a stupid little stomachache.

That at least he would admit, as Shoto didn't know many people who threw up from a fever. But even so, this was not something he needed help with. He'd been enough of a burden in the past and he'd rather lose a finger than be one again.

He gathered up as much strength as he could and hoisted his body to sit up from what he could assume was a bed due to the soft, plush feeling under his legs and torso. However, just like that morning, his body disagreed with his movement as a sharp pinch of dizzying pain shot through his head while at the same time, an unsettling wave of nausea bubbled over in his stomach. The combo of both made him grimace rather loudly, and with his perfect luck, a person emerged from a door located across the room right after his sound of discomfort.

"Oh, Todoroki !" A voice said, their tone sounding highly relieved. And it was then that Shoto identified the person as-

"M-Midoriya…?" He rasped. Good god this throat was dry. It sounded like it had been rubbed raw with sandpaper, but thankfully, Midoriya didn't fret over it.

"I'm happy you're awake." he said, thumb flipping a light switch on the wall as he walked over to his desk. He had something in his hand that he placed down on the wooden surface, something that Shoto couldn't recognize before he turned his head, a soft smile on his face, "I was really worried about you earlier. How are you feeling?"

Shoto disregarded the question, and resulted in asking one of his own.

"How did I get here?"

Shoto noticed his friends' slight flinch, "Oh ! Yeah, I imagine you were probably a little confused. Sorry about that." he sheepishly scratched the side of his face and turned back around. Shoto furrowed his eyebrows from the sudden dripping sound of a liquid as Midoriya continued talking.

"After you threw up in the bathroom, you passed out and I wasn't exactly sure what to do. I decided to wait for a few minutes, hoping that you would wake up, and I got scared when you didn't. Luckily, Kirishima and Tokoyami came into the bathroom shortly after. I told them what happened and then they helped me clean you up and take you back to my room to rest."

Shoto's eyes widened.

His classmates...saw him ? In such a weak state? No...how could he have let this happen? How could he be so...so..."

"I-I have to go…" Shoto uttered quickly, maneuvering his body to stand up despite the twisted feeling in his stomach "N-now."

"Oh, to the bathroom ?" Midoriya inquired, turning around hastily with a worried look on his face, a wet rag in his hand, " Do you feel sick again ? Here, let me help-"

"No !" Shoto exclaimed. He inhaled a panicked breath in through his nose, head throbbing so badly he thought it would burst, " I- I need to leave. We have class and training and-"

"Hey, don't worry." Midoriya moved closer, hands raised up in a calming manner with the wet rag still dangling in the crease between his thumb and index finger " I already asked Kirishima and Tokoyami to excuse us for today. They'll get us the assignments we missed and we can make them up later. Everything is fine."

Shoto's pupils dilated to the size of the tip of a toothpick. No. No. Everything was not fine.

"I-I can't Midoriya...I can't...I have...to-"

He tried to stand, but just like earlier, his body acted completely against him and he stumbled forward.

"T-todoroki !"

Midoriya acted upon instinct and lunged forward, rag falling from his hands and caught Shoto's limp body in his arms, easing themselves down to the ground.

"W-what are you doing ?! You have to take it easy !" He exclaimed, leveling Shoto so that his back was laid up against his bed. The sick male was breathing heavily, skin prickling once again with sweat and an uncomfortable heat. Midoriya laid his hand on his forehead again, a heavy frown on his lips.

"Your fevers up again...come on." He urged softly, "You need to get back in bed."

Shoto moaned through his lips with full intent to battle against the demands he didn't want to succumb to. But even thinking about getting up again caused his eyes to shut tight due to the excruciating, throbbing pain in his head, crossed over with another, familiar…sickening feeling. God, please not again.

He tried to quell it, deep inhales and exhales through and out the nose. But he knew deep down it wasn't going to work. It was coming too quick.

"M-Midoriya…" he whispered, teeth gritted.

His answer was quick, "Yes ? W-what is it?"

"I...I need the…" he swallowed thickly, "the...mmph!"

Shoto pitched forward, hand over his mouth, and Midoriya's eyes widened.

He knew exactly what was about to happen, and if he didn't hurry…

Green irises darted around his room until they landed on the small waste bin sitting in the corner. He moved so quickly in haste to grab it, one would have thought he was using the speed of One For All, but it was simply just to ensure he could aid his sick friend...and so he wouldn't be scrubbing out his carpet for an hour.

And he was just in time too, because almost as soon as he placed the bin under Shoto's chin, a wave of vomit spewed from his mouth in a violent gag and splattered into the bin.

Shoto duo colored hair fell into his face the moment he buried his head into the hollowed plastic, his only care at the moment being to pitifully give into his body's demands and rid himself of the toxins that had taken him over.

He had been sure that his bout of vomiting from earlier was the end of it, thinking it almost impossible that his system had anything else to rid itself of, but he was sadly mistaken. Bile and chunks ran passed his lips in an endless cycle, on replay, in a painful manner that tipped his mind in thinking it wasn't going to end.

However, just like before, that tiniest bit of comfort came forward in the gentlest of actions that though Shoto deeply appreciated, wished didn't have to occur. Midoriya's hand on his back, rubbing circles into his shoulder blades, whispering hushed and soft words of comfort into his ear while his other hand combed his hair away from his sweaty face.

This felt worse than earlier. He had had more in him the first time, leaving less room for empty gags and dry heaves, but this time, he was taken over with dry coughs and mouthfuls of stomach acid as his chest heaved with painful gasps from the relentless pulses of his stomach. No doubt the dry heaves were the worst, each one making him feel like his stomach and intestines were in his throat, close to coming out through his esophagus in a vile heap.

Thankfully, things started to slow down after about five minutes, and Shoto was finally able to pull his head up from the bin without fear of his stomach acting against him. A soft voice flowed through his ringing ears immediately after.

"Do you think you're done ?"

Shoto caught the slightly worried look on Midoriya's face out of the corner of his eye.

"Y-yeah…" he mumbled lowly, "...F-for now…"

Midoriya nodded, setting the waste bin aside, "Okay...here, let's get you up and back into bed."

He extended his arm with intent to assist his sick friend, but was shocked when his arm was pushed away.

"S-stop. I c-can get up by myself."

Midoriya opened his mouth to speak, but he hesitated, and watched with saddened eyes as Shoto gave a very weak attempt to heave himself up. His movements were deathly slow, cautious, as if any extra motion would trigger another episode. He exhaled a small, shaky breath and rested his forehead on the edge of Midoriya's bed, eyes half lidded in utter exhaustion.

Then, using his forearms he tried to pull himself to his feet, but his muscles ached and burned when he moved. He couldn't even get onto his knees.

Midoriya couldn't take it anymore as he scooted forward and put a hand on his friends' back.

"Hey, come on...that's enough. At least let me help you up. Take my hand."

Shoto shook his head as he once again declined "No. I-I'm fi-"

"But you're not, damn it!"

He turned his head, vision wavering as he set his eyes on Midoriya's face. Though he had sounded mad, his expression wasn't angry. It was more a cross between concerned, confused...and hurt.

His lips were pressed together thinly, eyebrows were furrowed, and his green irises were glazed over with additional emotions of something close to fear and bewilderment. His lips loosened themselves in preparement to speak, his next words sharp in tone, almost demanding.

"You're not fine. And I'm not going to sit here while you say otherwise, Todoroki. You're clearly not well and I'm not sure what it's going to take for you to see that. But I know I can. You're sick, and denying it and me won't do anything ! So please…" he grabbed Shoto's wrist, green gaze piercing into his.

"Let me help you."

Shoto blinked slowly, his foggy mind doing the best it could to process each word and syllable Midoriya said. Something became activated within him, a feeling of some sort, one he's never felt before.

The feeling that someone actually cared about him and his well-being. There was a person who wanted to set aside their time, when they could be doing a plethora of other things instead, to help him.

It put a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest, and he wasn't sure if he liked it...or hated it.

Clearly, he wasn't going to get anywhere, as he knew Midoriya to be very persistent. So with a sigh of defeat, he closed his eyes and let his tired body go slack, allowing the freckled boy to move closer to his side.

He felt an arm envelope itself around his upper back, while his own arm was positioned to drape around Midoriya's shoulders for added support.

"On three okay ?" Midoriya confirmed, taking the answer of Shoto nodding against his collar bone, "One, Two, Three…"

With a gentle heave, Midoriya was able to get Shoto on his feet, though his knees were bent and his legs were trembling underneath him like a toddler learning to walk for the first time. His balance and strength were gone, his energy was totally diminished. By the time Shoto was leveled on the bed and his head was resting on the pillow, his consciousness had faded into an oblivion just like before.

Midoriya grabbed the blankets that had been pushed to the end of the bed from Shoto's movements and proceeded to cover up the sick boy to hopefully rid him of his body's shudders and occasional shivers. And while doing so, he was really able to see fully just how sick Shoto was.

Even in the dim room, Midoriya could make out his pale face, it's usual warmer tone gone save for the flushed red splotches on his cheeks and across his nose. His skin was shiny with a new layer of sweat, likely caused by his radiating fever.

His fever.

Oh ! The rag !

Midoriya turned around and grabbed the rag from off the floor that he had dropped earlier from when Shoto had nearly collapsed. He walked over to his desk and submerged it once again into the cool water, squeezed off the excess, and folded it to fit on Shoto's forehead. Once at his side, Midoriya carefully swept his red and white bangs aside and set the fabric against the male's heated skin.

He let his hand linger, moving to feel Shoto's scalding cheek with his knuckles. He was burning up.

The shock of cold to hot must have triggered something in Shoto's troubled rest, for his eyebrows furrowed in clear discomfort. He mumbled something incoherently and subconsciously pressed his face into Midoriya's hand, desperate for comfort in his fevered state.

Midoriya frowned. Seeing Shoto like this...made him feel absolutely terrible.

This wasn't the Shoto he knew, even despite his illness.

He had helped him before, during the incident with Stain, during some drill in class, even with simple stuff like homework

So...why was this any different? Why did he seem so hesitant and so...ashamed?

He had a lot of questions, but they would have to wait. He didn't want to impose so much on Shoto right now, especially in his state. That was the last thing he needed.

Midoriya looked at the spoiled waste bin next to his bed.

He had other things to do.

His arm extended to grab the bag lined rim of the plastic container, and once it was in his possession, he proceeded to his bathroom to clean it out, leaving his sick friend to get some additional much needed rest.

[fandom-collective-writers]

Fortune’s Favor (Gavin x MC)

Fandom: Mr Love Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Gavin x MC

Prompt: Water balloon

Warning: Smut!

Intended Audience: Female Audience

Word Count: 2,729

Requested by: anonymous

Written by: @lordsisterxotome​

Disclaimer: I do not own MLQC or any of its characters. All of that goodness is the property of Elex. I do, however, own the plot of this fanfic. Please do not repost this on any other website.

Other notes: Can we all take a moment to appreciate Gavin as the perfect, beautiful man that he is? Like, damn!!!

       MC loved children. This was a known fact. She had even produced several shows concerning child development and behavioral issues. Kids were kids though, and it had yet to be determined whether that was in her favor at this particular moment.

       Her soaked dress clung to her body uncomfortably, making her shift in an effort to keep the fabric from clinging. Shivering, MC huddled into her boyfriend’s jacket, fingers digging into the material as she pulled the flaps tighter over her chest. She had been on set, producing a segment on ways for children to stay active during the summer, when she’d gotten caught in the crossfire of a water balloon fight, her clothes and hair soaked in a matter of seconds as assistants and parents tried to round up the overexcited troublemakers. To make matters worse, the dress she had chosen to wear a white dress today, leaving little to the imagination as the fabric turned transparent.

       Stunned by the sudden dousing, she was lucky that Gavin had been there to help out on his day off, jumping into action and draping his denim jacket around her shoulders before saying a few words to Kiki and leading her to a trailer. Having sat her down on a sofa, he was currently looking for something she could use to dry off and a change of clothes. 

       “I don’t think we’re going to find much in the way of fresh clothes,” she commented. Honestly, this could be a lot worse. She wasn’t so uncomfortable with Gavin here, knowing he would take care of her, and his jacket was warm and smelled like him, like sun and wind. 

       “You’re right. I’m not finding any towels either,” he sighed, his rummaging ceasing as he turned back to her. “I’m going to run back to your place and get you some clothes. In the meantime, you should get out of that dress or you might get sick. You can use my jacket to dry off as much as you can.” MC blushed as he sat down beside her and reached out to card his fingers through her damp locks. His palm cupped her cheek and she relished the warmth of his touch against her clammy skin, wanting nothing more than to snuggle up against him. 

       Sure, she was a little flustered. Pretty much everything was on display beneath the jacket and while it wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen her naked before, it was still all too easy to become embarrassed around him, her heart racing and body heating in reaction to him. It didn’t help that she had forgone a bra today, the wet fabric chafing her nipples with each heavy breath she took and hardening the buds to sensitive peaks that undoubtedly showed through her dress.

       “Are you sure?” she asked, licking her lips. “You don’t have to go to all that trouble.”

       “I don’t mind.” He smiled softly and rose to his feet. “Lock the door behind me so no one comes in by mistake.”

       That made her startle, suddenly remembering a very important detail that would make this plan a lot more tricky. Gavin must have seen the realization on her face because he stopped, hand on the door handle. “What?” he asked, “What is it?”

       “The doors on the trailers don’t lock.”

       “...Oh.”

       “I’m not sure why they don’t, but…” she muttered, trying to come up with some sort of excuse as she shifted in place.

       “Okay.” He thought for a moment before deciding, “You can’t stay here like this. Let’s go get your things and let Anna know I’m taking you home to get changed.”

       “Alright.” Taking the hand he offered her, MC settled into the crook of his arm as it wrapped around her shoulders, holding her against him protectively as they left the trailer. Anna was quick to give her the okay to go home, the other woman’s concern almost motherly as she took in her flushed cheeks and slight shivering with a furrowed brow. Gavin assured her he would take care of her - which he didn’t really need to do; it was already an accepted fact at the office that Gavin was a man among men - before escorting her to his motorcycle. 

       By this point her dress had become icy and she snuggled against Gavin’s broad back as he drove, seeking the comfort of his warmth.

       “Almost there,” he said over his shoulder, to which she nodded, cheek pressed to his shoulder blade through the helmet he’d given her. The engine quieted to a rumbling purr as he pulled into the parking structure beneath her building and she dreaded the chafe that would come with getting off and moving around. 

       Her hair clung to her cheeks in wet clumps as she took off the helmet and let him help her off the motorcycle. There really was no worse feeling in the world than wet clothes. Each movement was excruciating, cold fabric rubbing and clinging in ways that left her uncomfortable and all too sensitive.

       It was a relief when they finally reached her apartment and she turned the key in the lock. Gavin followed her in, and without thinking MC shed his jacket, unaware of how much she was revealing to him. 

       He was a gentleman and would sooner die than do something that took advantage of her, but Gavin was still a hot-blooded young man who was very much attracted to his girlfriend. His pants suddenly felt a little too tight, his breath coming a little harder as he averted his gaze from her. “You should warm up with a shower,” he managed, his voice a little husky as he looked at anything besides her.

       When MC turned back to him she couldn’t help but giggle at how cute he looked, almost boyish with his pink cheeks and a hand raised to scratch the back of his head sheepishly. Around anyone else, she would have shied away, leaving them with a thank you at the door, but Gavin always made her feel safe, knowing that she was his number one priority at all times. It was one of the many qualities that made her fall in love with him.

       “I will. Thank you for taking care of me, Gavin,” she said, turning to face him. “Do you want to wait here? It’s okay if you want to leave.”

       “Here is fine.”

       “Okay.” Shooting him an innocent smile, she sashayed to the bathroom, calling over her shoulder, “Make yourself at home.”

       “Thanks,” he replied, voice a little gruff.

       Despite how much she wanted to take this further, she only meant to tease her adorable boyfriend a little before going back to set, but when she tried to take off her sodden dress and found that the buttons didn’t want to cooperate with the wet material, there was really only one option left.

       “Gavin?” she called, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

       “Y-Yeah?”

       “Sorry, I can’t get the buttons by myself. Could you help me?”

       “...Sure.” His footsteps padded closer and her breathing picked up in anticipation when the door ghosted open. She didn’t meet his eyes, only turned to offer him her back. His presence behind her sent electric tinges washing over her skin and she hoped he didn’t notice the tiny shiver that wracked her when she felt his touch ghost along her shoulders. He was close, closer than he needed to be, but she wanted him even closer. Her lips parted around a silent moan as his breath fanned against her ear and she waited to see what he would do next as he reached the last button at the base of her spine.

       Gavin stopped, seeming to debate with himself for a moment, before the barely there touch of his hands on her naked skin made her exhale a shaky sigh. His fingers traced her spine, continuing to her shoulders. The digits slipped under the straps of her dress, but before he made any move to bare her, he murmured, “Can I?” his voice tight with restraint.

       “Please, Gavin,” she answered, her voice a whispered whine. MC could never deny him, not that she would ever want to. “I need you.”

       A heartbeat later, her dress fell from her shoulders to pool on the tile floor. Gavin moaned against her neck as his lips descended on her skin, his body pressed flush against hers as his hands reached around to cup her breasts, gently weighing them in his palms. She arched her hips against his crotch, crying out as his teeth sank into the side of her neck at the pressure against his growing erection. Her hips hit the edge of the counter as he forced her forward, seeking that delicious friction as he began to dry hump her.

       Mewls and whines escaped her parted lips as Gavin’s large hand gave her breast another squeeze before traveling down her stomach to slip into the front of her panties. Her legs trembled as he found her swollen clit, his thumb stroking the bud as he slipped his middle finger inside of her. 

       “G-Gavin, mmh! I...I can’t-!” MC tried to warn him of her failing legs, but she could barely get the words out, her slick core clenching around his fingers as he ground his bulge against her. She nearly cried as his fingers slipped out of her heat to turn her around. Her panties slipped down her legs before she was hoisted up onto the countertop, her boyfriend taking his rightful place between her legs. Gavin’s mouth claimed hers in a hungry kiss as she reached for him, small hands slipping under his shirt to touch chiseled abs and pecs. The lustful spark in his eyes as he parted from her to tear his shirt over his head sent a wave of heat blistering through her, her inner thighs soaked with her arousal. 

       She expected him to kiss her or shed the rest of his clothes, but he stepped away from her completely instead, reaching to turn on the shower before kneeling in front of her to rifle through the cabinets underneath the sink. When he looked up at her, he held a condom between his fingers and her brows lifted in surprise. “Where did you find that?” She couldn’t remember ever stashing a box down there.

       “I put it here after our first time,” he admitted, and she might’ve fallen in love with him even more if that was possible. It was just like him to be so careful when it came to her. He held the foil package between his teeth as he undid his belt, holding her heated gaze as he pushed his pants and boxers down his legs. Her eyes immediately fell to his freed dick, swallowing at how painfully hard he was. Gavin was very well endowed, long and thick and veined, the velvety skin flushed red with need. The swollen head weeped pre-cum as she watched and a hand under her chin tilted her face up.

       Her gaze met his half-lidded one and she nearly whimpered as he tore the condom open and rolled it down his length, rubbing her thighs together in an attempt to relieve the suddenly painful ache. Parting her legs, he wrapped his hands around her thighs and hoisted her off the counter with ease, her legs wrapping around his waist as he stepped into the shower.

       The water did little to soothe the heat raging deep inside of her, though it did wash the last of the chill left by her wet clothes away. MC cried out as he pressed her against the shower wall, his chiseled body rutting against hers as he began to roll his hips into her. “Gavin! Oh god!” She writhed as the tip of his cock prodded her clit, his thick heat spreading her folds as his mouth nipped at her neck and collarbone. 

       “Want to be inside you,” he panted hotly against her cheek. “Can I?”

       “Yes!” Bucking her hips, she heard him groan, releasing one of her legs in favor of clenching a fist against the wall next to her head. “I gave you permission the moment you undressed me! Please, please, please, fuck me, Gavin!”

       Reaching down to position himself, she whimpered as his length slowly stretched her, the slight burn of something so large entering her wet core lost in the way he filled and pressed against her walls so deliciously. Her cries for him to go faster, to shove the whole thing in at once, were lost to him, his face pressed into her neck and his jaw clenched as he groaned. As much as Gavin wanted to shove himself into her, he wanted to be careful, to cherish her and make her feel loved. 

       He began to move as soon as he was fully seated inside of her, pulling out until just the tip was left inside before slamming back in again, her screams reverberating around the bathroom as he gave her what she wanted. 

       “Yes!...ah!!...Yes, Gavin, mmm..that...it feels so good!!” she cried, gasping lungfuls of the steamy air.

       “Yeah?” Grabbing a bouncing breast, he pinched and twisted her nipple, licking his lips as she was reduced to a whimpering, lustful mess in his embrace. “You...haa...take me so good. Feels...ngh!...s-so good...squeezing me so tight! My good girl…”

       Her fingers dug into his shoulders as he continued to pound into her, drops of water running down his muscles and clinging to the ends of his hair. All she could think to say was his name as he drove into her, adjusting his angle a couple of times to hit spots that had her eyes rolling back in her head. 

       “You’re...ahh!!...Gavin, you’re so deep! Gavin, Gavin, Gavin!!” She could feel him in every part of her body, claiming her as his own. It was hard and intense, but underlying it all was love, his adoration for her conveyed in every heated touch of skin against skin.

       “Say my name,” he growled, claiming her lips in a hungry kiss. “Scream it so the neighbors know.” Tears of pleasure ran down her face as he hit her g-spot hard, abusing the sensitive spot over and over again. “Are you going to come?” he panted, hips moving faster, rougher. He was getting close too, her walls threatening to squeeze him to completion she was getting so tight. 

       “Y-Yes!” she cried, gasping as he throbbed and twitched inside of her.

       His hand moved to where they were joined, and with a hard press to her clit she came undone, crying his name as her vision went white under an explosion of rapture. His pleasured grunt joined her scream as he reached his own end a few thrusts later, and he looked positively virile as he released, muscles in his neck bulging as his seed spilled into the condom. 

       The water cooled their overheated bodies as they panted, slowly coming down from their highs. Releasing her leg from around his hip, Gavin gently held her on her feet as he slipped out of her, planting kisses on her wet face.

       “I love you,” she said breathlessly, a satisfied smile on her face as she nuzzled into his neck. “I love you so so much.”

       “I love you too,” he murmured back, his arms tightening around her. A few moments passed like that, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking, before he released her, stepping out of the shower for a moment to discard the used condom.

       Alone, MC cupped her flushed cheeks in her hands and squealed internally. In this case, getting caught in the crossfire of a children’s water balloon fight had turned out very, very well, gaining fortune’s favor the moment she fell in love with Gavin.

       It wasn’t until after they had finished washing up and were drying off when she suddenly gasped. “What if Lucien was home?!”

       Gavin blinked at her, silent for a moment, before he burst into chuckles. Wrapping his arms around her middle, she thought she saw some of the same mischief from high school in his face now as he said, “I’ve had you screaming my name enough that I think he’s used to it by now, babe.”

[thespianbooks]

A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter 18//

Masterlist

(tags: @thron3ofbooks, @df3ndyr, @courtofjurdan, @art-e-mis, @herondamnn, @the-third-me, @im-still-trying-here, @emikadreams, @paytin77, @mis-lil-red, @sleeping-and-books, @lucieisabooknerd, @amandaraey-sunshine, @easy-p-lemon, @azymondias05, @dagypsygirl, @makeshift-utopia) *bold tags don’t work ;-;

“Only you can decide what breaks you.”--ACOWAR

XXX

A myriad of voices and faces faded in and out of darkness—surrounding me as I fought desperately to make sense of it all. Excruciating spasms ebbed in and out, leaving me unable to focus long enough to figure out where the pain was coming from. Perhaps it was all over my body, but during a particularly brutal wave; when I could hear myself crying out, I knew it came from my core. I saw Rhysand's face in the midst of my agony, his violet eyes like shattered glass and lined with silver—glimmering starlight falling down his face. It was so beautiful, but it seemed the night itself was weighing me down and I couldn't ask what caused him so much despair.

Twilight continued to envelope me, and I couldn't discern it from anything else. From the moment it took hold, it felt as if I were floating—images of concerned faces flashing across my vision every so often as my abdomen continued to throb. I knew those faces, knew their voices, but couldn't recognize anyone but my mate. He was my tether among the stars I drifted along in, until my world went dark once again.

XXX

Sunlight peeked through half-closed curtains—my curtains, I realized, as I made out the details of my bedroom. I blinked slowly as I looked around the familiar settings, my breath hitching in my throat as images of blood and pain came surging back to memory.

You're all right Feyre, it's okay

I turned at the sound of Rhys's voice, even through the bond, as he moved from the chair at my bedside to sit beside me. He looked like hell; his hair a disheveled mess with dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes, face still stained from those beautiful tears I remembered. My eyes went wide as I recalled where the pain had stemmed from and my hands flew to my stomach, gripping the fabric of my dressing gown.

"He's okay," Rhys breathed. His hand held mine, both of ours holding my stomach.

I was still pregnant. My son was alive.

I felt that all too familiar glimmer, my eyes slipping shut in relief as I sobbed. I gripped my stomach with both hands and sobbed again as I felt him move. Rhys bent down to press a kiss to my forehead before pressing his against it gently. He held my face as I cried, relieved, and I moved my hands to grip his shoulders as they shook lightly—his own tears mixing with mine as we held each other.

I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Rhys. I said down the bond, prepared to plead for forgiveness.

"Don't apologize Feyre. You have nothing to be sorry for," he said as he pulled back just enough for our eyes to meet.

"I put him at risk," I whispered as I stifled another sob in my throat. "I-I used my powers, and not even five minutes later I started cramping. I-I shouldn't have-" I sobbed again, and he shook his head, brushing the tears from my cheeks.

"You acted as High Lady. You did what you had to do for our city while I was away," he said, but I could hear the same anger that I held against myself laced in his voice. It was subtle, but it was there.

I opened my mouth to argue, but there was a gentle knock at the door followed by the voice of our healer. "It's me, my lord. I've felt the High Lady wake and need to reevaluate her current state."

Rhys pressed another kiss to my brow and straightened, waving a hand to unlock the door; allowing Madja to let herself in. The dark-skinned female smiled warmly at me as she approached my bedside.

"How are you feeling, lady?" She asked.

I sniffed and did a quick evaluation of myself. I was sore and weary—my usual fatigue exemplified by whatever my body had just been through. "Tired...and aching, but no pain." I answered, deciding that honesty would be my best course of action. I wouldn't take a chance on my son's safety again.

She nodded in understanding. "That's to be expected. You've been through a tremendous few days," she said.

My eyes widened. "It's been days?"

"Just two. You were out after the initial attack, which took place in the afternoon. You slept all day yesterday after Madja healed you," Rhys explained, taking my hand and squeezing it reassuringly—though I could hear the lingering ache in his voice.

"I was able to put you in a trance of sorts, while you healed, in order to allow your body the ample time it needed to recover before you regained consciousness," Madja said, her tone growing serious as she met my gaze.

"However, my lady, the extraordinary use of your powers that day; noble and vital as they were in saving our city, did cause a strain on your womb. The muscles that line the area holding your youngling contracted, causing some minor tearing and bleeding."

I felt Rhys's agony flicker through our bond as he heard the words, no doubt thinking back to what those initial moments must've been like—when I was floating in and out of consciousness and crying out from the pain. "This caused your body to enter premature labor, but I was able to stop it, heal the tear, and stop the bleeding in sufficient time," she finished explaining.

A few more tears slid down my face as I closed my eyes, returning a hand to hold my stomach gently—afraid that even the slightest touch would reopen the wound in my newly repaired muscles. The healer placed a reassuring hand over mine.

"You are resilient my lady. You and your youngling are strong. Not only did you fight for his survival, your healing blood doing what it could at the time, but your youngling did as well. As I was tending to your wounds, I felt the power in his blood attempting to sustain his environment—that healing power you have passed onto him. Part of the agony you felt was not only premature labor pains, but also your youngling restoring the injury to your womb."

My eyes widened at the revelation and I looked at Rhys, who also looked as if this was the first time he was hearing it. "But this does mean you will need to remain on strict bed rest until further notice. My medicinal process will continue over the course of the next few weeks. It is slow, but successful. Your youngling is safe now, but your body and his need this time to continue to rest and recuperate. I also want to ensure that the muscles I repaired remain intact and regain its strength. Allow me to check on that progress now," she continued before placing her hands on either side of my stomach. Healing magic flowed through those hands as I turned to face Rhys.

He squeezed my hand again. He has your healing powers. He...was healing you

I covered my mouth to stifle a sob. Everything she warned us of, all the risks and complications...I've brought them on myself, and on our baby.

Don't say that Feyre. This is not your fault.

Of course it is! I winced as a light spasm flowed through me, but Madja's restorative touch gently dissolved it.

Her weary eyes met mine. "My lady, it is imperative that you do not put any additional stress on yourself at this time. Physically, or emotionally."

I nodded and breathed in a deep sigh, both of Rhys's hands gripping mine as Madja went back to her work. Please Feyre. Don't blame yourself for this

I saw the hurt sparkling in his eyes, the heartbreak, and realized the anger I saw earlier wasn't directed at me. It's not your fault either, Rhysand.

I shouldn't have left you here in your condition. It was a mistake assuming you and Velaris would be safe with the threat of a coup on the horizon

Through the bond, I could feel the remorse he had spent the last two days ruminating in—believing himself to be at fault for my current state. We were blaming ourselves, when in truth the accountability lied in our attackers; each of us having to respond accordingly. A seed of blame still lived in me, because deep down I had known using my powers to such an extent was a risk. I didn't anticipate it causing as much damage as it did, and I would never forgive myself for it. The regret that resided in Rhys, however, was from leaving his pregnant mate behind.

We can't be racked with this guilt, Rhys. We had no idea this would happen. I said through the bond, brushing my thumb along his lightly as I curled against his mental shields.

I saw the inner turmoil he battled with in his violet eyes as he kept himself closed off for the time being, fighting his male-bonded instincts that caused him to be vehemently angry at himself for believing he abandoned his weak and vulnerable mate—all the while trying to convince himself that he hadn't. Finally, I felt him lower his shields and let him hold me through the bond; felt his engulfing warmth and security.

You're right

It was all he could manage as I felt the emotions swirl through him, and on that bridge that connected us, I held him just as securely as he held me.

Madja moved her hands from my stomach with a satisfied nod. "Everything is as it should be, the recovery you made while unconscious was substantial, but for the next week or so, you are to remain in bed and must pass over your duties as High Lady for the time being. I will be in daily to monitor your condition, and after this initial period of strict confinement, we'll see about you returning to some of those duties."

I nodded my understanding and so did Rhys. "I'll make sure she gets more than the adequate amount of rest she needs," he said, voice still strained.

"I have no doubt about that my lord, but you must also allot yourself some time to rest," the healer said, turning her full attention to my mate. "You haven't gotten a wink of sleep since I arrived. I understand your mating bond is very fragile, and I can't imagine the stress you must be under as High Lord, mate, husband, and now the expectant father."

She placed a gentle hand on my mate's shoulder. "You must also take care of yourself for your mate's benefit. Sleep, eat, and allow yourself to attend to your duties as High Lord and turn her care over to the others. They worry for both of your well-being and would be glad to do whatever they can to help."

I frowned as Rhys's shoulders tensed a bit at her words, and for clarification he allowed me past a layer of his adamant walls. There I saw the memories of the time I remained unconscious—how he guarded my side night and day and locked the rest of our family out; physically and mentally. He passed messages through the healer as she was the only one allowed in and out of our room, and the others didn't push—despite how distraught he knew they were over my condition. They tried to bring him food and water, but he remained closed off, locking himself away with me until now.

I shouldn't have shut them out. He admitted through the bond. But until you were awake, until I knew everything would be okay...I just couldn't bring myself to face them or let them near you, or do anything else for that matter

I sighed and squeezed his hand gently. "I'll take care of him, Madja," I reassured the healer.

She nodded. "That's good to hear," she said before turning to her bag of supplies. "Now, I'm prescribing an herbal tea mixture for you to consume twice a day. Once in the morning, and then at night. This will aid in your recovery and work to help you slowly regain more energy. I'm mixing it with your prenatal herbal mixture to continue supplementing your youngling as well." She mixed together the concoction on the spot, using her own powers to brew a cup for me and handed me the mug.

I cringed as I attempted to sit up on my own, but Rhys already had an arm around my back to keep me upright. The healer offered me a wry smile, "You'll continue to be sore for the next few days, so please, take even the slightest movements with great caution."

I nodded and held the cup of tea to my lips, taking a sip. "Thank you Madja, for everything," I said, hoping she saw the sincerity in my eyes.

She nodded again with a slight bow. "Of course, my lady," she turned to Rhys. "I'll go inform the others of the Lady's recovery and return tomorrow afternoon."

"Thank you." Rhys said, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing it. She smiled again before excusing herself, leaving my mate and I alone.

I took another sip of my tea as Rhys adjusted himself to sit on the bed, keeping me upright. "The city is secure," he said softly, and my heart skipped a beat. "Your wall of water put out all the flames, and the palace lords were able to arrange for repairs to the damaged buildings right away."

Tears of relief slid down my cheeks as I held my brew at my lips, allowing the steam from the cup to warm my face and keep me at ease. "Our home is safe again...?" I whispered.

He pressed a kiss to my temple. "Everyone is safe, Feyre. Everyone," he reassured. He knew my worry for Ressina and my other painter friends; the younglings we taught in my studio and their parents. The innocent lives I fought and would always fight to protect.

Defender of the Rainbow

I sighed heavily and slowly turned in his arms to meet his gaze. "What happened...in the Mortal Lands? Why did Vassa come here?" I asked, knowing she had not done this willingly.

Rhys sighed as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his violet eyes going distant as he recalled the details. "Cassian, Azriel, and I arrived at the queen's palace up in flames. Lucien was doing his best to calm them while he ordered the guards to put them out. He said it happened so fast," he began, and I frowned.

"Beron arrived with one of the generals of his armies, and with the sorcerer who cursed Vassa. We don't know how he managed to find him, but he forced Vassa into her firebird form and cast her to the skies to begin wreaking havoc. He had complete control over her," He sighed as he closed his eyes. "Lucien and Beron had a confrontation before unleashing his army to attack and Jurian took over and led their armies to fight back. We arrived after Beron and the sorcerer vanished with Vassa, and Lucien doing what he could to put out the flames on the palace while Jurian and the mortal forces continued to battle against the Autumn Court army. He had already sent word to Tamlin for help, but we jumped in and started fighting on their behalf until they arrived. We were worried about where Beron would take Vassa next, and I...I had a bad feeling. I wanted to come back to Velaris as soon as possible; wanted to come back to you. Cassian was about to send word to Devlon, to gather our legions that haven't turned yet, when I felt it-"

His breath hitched and I saw his throat bob before he went on, voice hoarse. "I felt a tug on the bond...not from you, but from our son." He touched my stomach with a gulp. "That normal glimmer was a hot spark, a cry for help, and I knew something was wrong. I winnowed back to Velaris immediately, right at your side, only seconds after you collapsed...and then I saw the blood..."

I reached my arms around his shoulders as he collapsed into tears, the memory of me lying in the grass unconscious and bleeding now overwhelming him. I wrapped my arms around him as he buried his face into the crook of my neck, his arms encircling my waist as he cried. Dropping my emptied mug to the floor, I held him—my own tears falling as I buried my face in his hair and rubbed soothing circles on his back.

After a few minutes he pulled back to meet my gaze, a hand going to hold my stomach gently. "I thought I was going to lose you, and our son, and I couldn't bear it. I brought you inside the estate just as Mor arrived with Madja. She knew you would need help, but she was horrified when she saw your condition. I laid you down right there, in the foyer, so Madja could get to work, but you were fading," he squeezed his eyes shut at the memory.

I brushed against his mental shields, asking him to show me rather than tell me of the events that transpired, and he hesitated before letting me in. I saw myself lying on the marbled ground, pale, as the healer had her hands pressed to my stomach—hands glowing with her healing magic. I heard the voices of the others—panicked and yelling as they arrived at the estate. Then I heard myself groaning and whimpering in agony, and I remembered from my own harrowing memories that I thought I had been screaming. Instead, I was on the floor, crying and pleading incoherently as Madja healed me and then met Rhysand's eyes. I looked into my own dull grey-blue eyes and was overwhelmed with a sense of helplessness that my mate had endured.

I pushed away from his thoughts, unable to look at myself any longer and sobbed. "I'm sorry I put you through that Rhysand. I...how can you ever forgive me?"

He captured my lips with his, pleading and adoring and forgiving as he kissed me. "You and our son are safe. That's all that matters to me now," he whispered before kissing me again.

I kissed him back, holding his face and brushing away the tears from his cheek with my thumbs as he did the same. "I would be so furious...how are you not furious with me? How are the others not-" I choked.

He met my gaze meaningfully. "I couldn't be furious with you for doing what you have always done, Feyre. I was scared, I still am, but I spent the last two days praying to the Mother, that you would just wake up."

His thumbs stroked my cheeks gently as starlight danced behind his violet eyes. "I can't tell you how relieved I am that you and our son are safe," he kissed me again. "For that reason, I can't be angry."

I sniffed as I kissed him back, holding his wrists gently as he held my face. "I'll be careful from now on," I promised. "I'll let you coddle and fuss over me all you want."

A tired laugh escaped past his lips and my heart fluttered at the sound, glad to see a smile return to his handsome face. "I'll hold you to that, Feyre darling," he said with quiet amusement.

We held each other; brows pressed together as we moved to stare at my stomach. Our son was quiet, but I could feel his subtle movements. Rhys caressed it gently, earning a kick to his palm and he smiled again. "Still so strong," he whispered.

"He's amazing...and he's still growing," I said as I brushed my fingertips along the expanse of my belly.

"Thank the Mother," Rhys said as he moved down to press a kiss at the apex of my stomach.

I brushed my fingers through his hair as he stayed by my belly, restoring it back from the mess it had been from his stressed hands mussing it up. "I think I know what we should name him," I mused.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Sebastian."

"Sebastian?"

I nodded and ran a hand along the top of my stomach, "It suits him...don't you think?"

Sebastian. Venerable, and strong—which our youngling most certainly was. Rhys's eyes warmed as his hand rested atop mine. "It's perfect."

Our son must've agreed, because rather than a kick of protest under our palms, we felt that intimate glimmer flutter through our bond—strong as ever. Rhys let out a long breath, and I noticed the tension finally leaving his shoulders as he laid beside me; our joined hands lingering on my stomach as we stared at it until we both slipped into an easeful sleep.