#writing drabbles for these two

[kiplex]

You really do think Caleb was a dog in his past life.

Here you are, on your bed dying from the most excruciating period cramps you think you've ever had in your entire life and Caleb has his head on your uterus.

It's honestly your fault for saying the hot water bottle wasn't hot enough, and… probably yelling at him too in the process. He panicked, you could see the gears turn in his head before he made you lay down on the bed and then planted his head on your stomach. “There!” He said triumphantly, if he had a tail you're sure he'd be wagging it, he looks so stupidly proud of himself as he nuzzles into lower abdomen. “You always say ‘I'm so insufferably hot’ when we cuddle at night, so I'm your hot water bottle now.”

You sigh and Caleb's head rises and falls with your breath, you can't be mad at him, not when he's giving you those big puppy dog eyes. “If it gets uncomfortable, I'm banishing you to the couch." You mumble, relenting finally. Caleb's eyes light up and he nods into your stomach. "I'll be gentle, I promise.” Your hand runs through his hair as he places a kiss on your tummy letting out a boyish giggle. He's far too pleased with himself. You can practically hear his phantom tail smacking against the bed from how happy he was to be helping, and being this close to you.

...

Yeah you're sure Caleb was a dog in a past life.

You can find my master list here

[satoblue]

“what do you think, satoru?”

there’s a few beats of silence as you both continue walking down the sidewalk.

“you’re really calling me satoru already?” satoru asks suddenly.

you turn your head, looking him right in the eye. you were aware the customs and norms were different here, but his name — oddly and impossibly smooth on your tongue — simply slipped out.

satoru pauses in his tracks, and you follow in suit. one of his white brows are raised and those beautiful blue eyes peer over the rim of the sunglasses perched lazily across the bridge of his nose.

his tone lies somewhere between amused and incredulous — but you don’t flinch. you don’t shy away or cower from embarrassment. in fact, you just shrug like you’ve known him forever.

“should i not?”

and satoru’s eyes squint at that response. he watches you for a second too long, trying to figure you out.

everything about you is foreign. from the way you dress, to the way you talk, and your behaviors which are unlike the ones he’s grown up with.

there’s something about it that throws him off a little — in how you don’t circle around being close to him. you just walk straight into his space right beside him like you own that spot — like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

and honestly, he doesn’t find himself minding it one bit.

the corner of his mouth quirks up, devilish thoughts conjuring up in his mind.

“well… i think you’re awfully familiar,” he drawls out slowly, cocking his head to the side as he examines you up and down before delivering the final blow. “you might as well marry me.”

you blink.

but satoru is already grinning back at you — shameless, smug, and absolutely serious.

[randomfandomworks]

You pushed the eyeshadow palette to the side as Rumi laid below you, watching you decide on what to do next. You’d been bugging her for a while now about designing her show makeup and it was on this dull day in the middle of their break that she had finally agreed.

It wasn’t professional, or high effort, it was simply an idol and her partner sprawled out in bed. The weight of your chest laid on hers, your elbows propping you up just enough to look down at her as you created your masterpiece. You placed some blush to her cheeks, a light dust of color to finish off what you’d been working so hard on.

You set the blush aside, readjusting your weight to look down at Rumi once more, your eyes wandering over her features to take in what you had created. Halfway through your observations you stopped, your gaze lingering on her patterns. Slowly you brought your hand up, brushing your fingers over the patterns that spread across her forehead. Your eyes traced the movement memorizing the shape as your fingers ran along her skin.

“I’m glad you don’t cover them up.” You spoke softly, your fingers moving further up to tuck back some of her loose hairs.

She looked at you silently for a moment, watching you focus, holding onto the gentleness within your stare. “Yeah?” She responded, her voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, bringing your hand down to cup her cheek, “Yeah.” You finalized meeting her gaze.

A warmth settled in her chest, something about you, your acceptance of what she’d tried to hide for so long, made her fall even harder for you.

And maybe, she thought after a moment, you’d have to do her makeup more often.

[huntingrays]

pjo prompt: percy and jason have to go on a quest together, so they both decide to bring their respective partners (annabeth and leo). during the quest, they get kidnapped by monsters and percy and jason wake up in an arena. the monsters explain that they have their partners and in order to save them, they have to fight to the death, with the winner getting to leave alive with their partner, while the other is killed. however, the monsters are very shocked when percy and jason sit down and start calmly playing cards with each other. they’re not worried about their partners. instead, they’re worried for the monsters. they trapped annabeth and leo together, two of the smartest demigods. the girl who redesigned olympus and the boy who built a warship in six months. they were toast.

[xoxojisu]

unoffical bf kirishima PLEASE omg!!

stupidly playful pool day w/ unofficialbf!kirishima <3

you don’t remember how it started.

maybe you splashed him first. maybe he splashed you. doesn’t matter, because now you’re both drenched and grinning, eyes bright, cheeks flushed, ducking and weaving through the water like kids.

“truce!” you laugh, hands up, retreating toward the shallow end.

kiri follows you like always. “yeah? you surrendering?”

you nod, trying to bite back a grin. “absolutely. you win. congrats. you’re terrifying.”

“damn right.” he puffs his chest proudly, muscles gleaming, still grinning. and then, because he’s kiri, he adds, “but just so you know, i wasn’t really trying.”

you gasp, scandalized. “excuse me?!”

and you pounce.

you jump on him, mostly to dunk him, but he catches you instinctively, arms strong around your waist, laughing through it.

you try to wriggle out of his grip, but it’s no use. you’re completely at his mercy and he knows it. he leans in, nose almost brushing yours.

“you give up again?” he asks, teasingly.

your heart skips. “...maybe.”

“good answer.” and then he spins you. just to make you squeal. just to hear you laugh.

he sets you down gently after, but his hands linger. one at your waist. one at the back of your shoulder. you’re close. too close. you’re both breathing harder than you should be.

you blink up at him, soaked hair clinging to your cheeks.

“you, uh... good?” he asks, voice softer now.

you nod. “yeah. are you?”

he looks at you for a second too long. “...yeah.”

but neither of you move. neither of you break the eye contact. and everyone watching from the edge of the pool is mentally screaming.

masterlist

[dumbass-hyperfixations]

The text comes at 9:07.

Eddie: Happy birthday, Hen! Hope you have a good one :)

Hen smiles down at her phone as she sets down her bag in the locker room. Someone really ought to teach that man how to use emojis (seriously, is he secretly 50?), but the text warms her heart too much to be bothered by it. At least someone remembered, even from another state. She’ll take the typed out smiley emoticon as a win.

Hen: Thanks Eddie 🥳 how are you doing?

Eddie: Almost done fixing up my house and making small breakthroughs with Chris every day. But I’m sure Buck’s keeping you all updated. How about you? Any big plans today?

Hen: I’m sure it’s going great, we’re all rooting for you ❤️ and yes, Buck’s giving us all the updates, hasn’t shut up about you since you left 😂

Hen: No big plans today, though. Shift, then takeout for dinner.

Eddie: Not even cake? You’re breaking my heart :(

Hen sighs. She’s breaking her own heart over this silly little thing. She feels ridiculous, being so excited and then so disappointed over such a small thing. She scoffs as she kicks off her shoes and shakes off her jacket before answering Eddie.

Hen: I guess I’m just not in the mood this year. Maybe Karen and I will get dinner over the weekend.

Eddie: Oh, Buck and I tried this great Italian place the night before my last shift at the 118! You should ask him for details, their spaghetti bolognese was amazing :D

Well, definitely not doing that. Not while Buck and the rest of the 118 are being excited over a different H.E.N. in their lives right now. Another thing she’s ridiculously jealous of today: firefighting gadgets. And the way Eddie isn’t able to keep Buck out of their conversation even for a second. She bets Buck never forgets his birthday.

Hen: Thanks, I appreciate the tip 🤗

Eddie: Anytime. Hope you have a great day :)

Yeah, Hen thinks. Against all odds, she hopes so, too.

***

Another text comes around at 14:32, while Hen is taking a break on the roof after that call for Archie, the self-proclaimed invisible man.

Eddie: Hey, just got off the phone with Buck. I’m sorry those dummies forgot your birthday :(

Despite it all, Hen chuckles.

Hen: Don’t be acting like you didn’t remember just because of the Facebook alert. I know you well, Diaz 😉

Eddie: Guilty. Still sent the text though!

Eddie: And I know it sucks, but just remember that they still love you. We all do. Probably gonna be making it up to you for a week. I’ll bet you 10 bucks Chim’s gonna send you balloons. Maybe even a serenading mariachi band.

She snorts into her phone.

Hen: Oh god, I hope not. Haven’t I suffered enough?

Eddie: True. You can always guilt-trip Buck into doing yard work for you, though. He’s pretty handy with that. Kind of wish he was here now, helping me around the house.

Yeah, she bets he does. God, those two are so sickeningly codependent. She’s gonna have to hold an intervention one of these days.

Hen: He’s been giving me THE WORST puppy eyes since they realized they forgot. Could probably make him wash the cars too.

Eddie: Yeah, saw ‘em. He called me all sad, asking about your favourite pie. If you don’t talk to him soon, your house is going to look like a bakery display for a week.

Hen: Thanks for the tip. I DO NOT need my kids on a sugar high after all of this 😂

Eddie: At least they remembered, right? And Karen?

Hen: LOL. Mara dressed up real cute. Not for mama though, for picture day 💔 and Karen at least noticed my (very very nice) birthday outfit, but didn’t connect the dots.

Eddie: Ouch

Hen: Yup. I guess she forgot because of the kids’ schedules. Still hurts, though. There’s usually not a thing missing from her trusty planner.

Eddie: I guess she figured she’ll remember. You guys have celebrated how many thousand birthdays together now? She probably just got too confident in her ability to remember everything she loves about you.

She tries to scoff, but it comes out a little wet. Of course, he’s right. And Karen’s gonna feel so bad when she realizes.

Hen: Damn you for being right.

Hen: I’m gonna be angry with you about that, because you and Athena are the only two people I can’t be mad about missing my birthday.

Eddie: Hahaha sure, if it makes you feel better! Gotta go now, getting ready for work.

Hen: I still can’t believe I’m gonna walk back down to the loft and not see you on shift with us 😔 your talents are being wasted in that Uber

Eddie: Don’t I know it :( take care, Hen. And make Buck your gardener! I’ll be expecting pics.

Hen: 🤔🤔 starting to think gardener Buck is more of a gift for you than it is for me…

What can she say, even in her desperate sorrows, she loves making fun of the whole BuckandEddie thing, no matter how platonic it might be.

The answer is immediate.

Eddie: I’ve gotten tired of all the cooking/baking photos Maddie keeps sending me. He needs new hobbies.

Hen: How many of those do you have?????

Eddie: So many.

Eddie: Save them all, though. I like seeing him happy.

Eddie: He is happy, right? Not just putting a brave face for me every time I call?

Well. She can’t even make fun of that.

Hen: Ever seen those videos of amputated dogs that are learning to move around with prosthetics?

Eddie: Yeah?

Hen: Looks kind of like that. Happy, but still getting used to those wheels instead of legs ❤️

Hen: (The amputated legs are you. And the wheels are all those six thousand two hundred and twenty-two FaceTime calls you’re having on and off shift.)

Eddie: Yeah, I got that. It’s the same for me, really.

Eddie: Really gotta go now. Let me know if Chim sends you balloons!

***

At 21:20, Hen’s the one to send the text.

Hen: [image attached]

Hen: I actually got those fucking balloons. Are you psychic?

Hen: Also featuring chocolates from Bobby.

Eddie: Ha! Not psychic, he’s just predictable.

Hen: LOL, that he is. The worst part is that I actually kind of love them.

Eddie: Not seeing 10 different pies on the table, though. Master baker crisis averted?

Hen: Not yet, but he acted like an awkward butler around me for the rest of the shift. Needed some time to cool off, but I’ll ask him tomorrow.

She sets the phone down and opens the basket of chocolates. There’s a note inside with yet another apology, a birthday wish, and a promise of homemade dinner on their next 48 off. I am loved, I am loved, I am loved, I am loved. She thinks the words on a loop in her head, intending on doing so until she believes then again. God, today sucks.

Her phone pings again, Eddie’s contact illuminated on the screen.

Eddie: I just realized. We have never texted as much as we did today.

Surprised, Hen snorts out a laugh.

Hen: That can’t be right. We’ve known each other for well over 7 years now.

Eddie: I’m serious! Check our previous messages.

And Hen does. The last text before today was a few months ago, when she wished him a happy birthday during their 96 off, to which he responded with a simple thank you. Before that, a bunch of school-related email screenshots and links, mixed in with some carpool-themed “I’ll be there in 15!”s and some Denny and Chris sleepover related negotiations. Each short text thread at least a few days, if not weeks apart. Wow.

Hen: LOL, are we even friends 😂

Eddie: Right?! Like, I know we are, but we have absolutely no way of proving it.

Hen: I’m blaming it on the twelve hundred groupchats the Buckleys have created over the years.

Eddie: Seconded! Why do we need one for every get-together? The original groupchat is fine.

“Mama?” Hen looks up to see Mara standing in the doorway, looking a little unsure of herself.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Mom’s calling you for dinner,” Mara says. “Or, she’s asking if you feel like joining us.”

Hen sighs and stands up. To her surprise, the weight of her chest is lifted somewhat. She didn’t even notice that she calmed down and switched her mood during their chat.

“Of course, I’m coming,” she says and hugs Mara again for good measure before they head to the kitchen. Just to let her know nothing is wrong, that she’s not mad at her. Or anyone, in fact. This stuff happens. I am loved, I am loved, I am loved.

After dinner, she sends Eddie the picture of the cake Mara and Denny brought her.

Hen: [image attached]

Hen: Got the cake after all ❤️🎂

Hen: Thanks for today ❤️

Eddie: Looks good! And, anytime :D

[flofaiiry]

why him? ; pope cody x reader

warnings: swearing, probably ooc pope & j

wc: ~580

i am so so sorry if this is extremely ooc for pope or j, i'm basing them off of the two episodes i've watched and a bunch of pope fanfic i've read! i'm imagining this taking place right at the beginning of the show (seeing as that's all ive watched!!)

"i dont want this to come across as like..." josh trails off, searching for the words so as to not offend you, "like, rude or whatever?" he squints, trying not to cringe at how awkward he's being. you smile, "spit it out, kid, i won't be offended."

he takes a beat, slowly nodding before he continues. "why are you..." he glances back to andrew standing inside the house, before turning back to you. "why are you with him?" you raise your eyebrows, "him? you mean andrew?" josh nods, "pope, yeah- andrew i guess."

you cant help but laugh. the sound mostly leaving as forced exhales through your nose. "yeah i guess we're not really alike at all, huh." josh shakes his head, "no, you're definitely not." a small smile coming on his face, now knowing you didn't take his question the wrong way.

you take a sec, honestly thinking about the answer. why were you: college educated, career woman, from a good family, with andrew pope cody of all people. you understood how the question could come up.

you shrug.

"why is anyone with anyone," you smirk. trying to sound philosophical, while also dodging the question. josh just stares at you, not quite getting the sarcasm. you sigh. "to be honest, j? i couldn't tell you why." you admit. "i don't know that there's a reason... i just-," another sigh, collecting your thoughts now.

"i know he's not everyone's cup of tea," you start. "i know he's a lot for some people, i know people don't really get him, i know he can be scary at first..." you're practically rambling now. "i know he's got a staring habit," you tease, earning a laugh from josh, "yeah he definitely does. that shit is unsettling as hell," he admits and you laugh, nodding. "it one hundred percent is but- you'll get used to it i swear."

"really though, j, why is anyone with anyone," you circle back to your earlier point, once filled with sarcasm, now an actual question. "why are you with your girlfriend?" you counter, not trying to deflect, just... curious.

he shrugs. "makes me happy." he says matter-of-factly, "i don't know, she just... gets me." you smile. "exactly."

"is andrew a little... weird? absolutely he is. he's probably the strangest, most complicated person i've ever met but... when i'm with him? when it's just us? god, it's..." you try to find the words to describe how being with andrew makes you feel, but decide to use josh's own.

"he gets me," you say simply, "and i get him."

josh nods slowly, "i guess that's all you need, right? someone that gets you." you smile, "yeah it really is."

"what's all you need?" andrew asks as he emerges from the house, walking over to where you and josh sit on a couch by the pool.

"someone that gets you." you repeat, smiling at your boyfriend while he sits down beside you and drapes his arm across your shoulder. "kid was asking for relationship advice. told him all you need is someone that gets you. the rest will just... fall into place." you fill him in. it's not entirely a lie, but it's enough for andrew not to ask anymore questions.

"uh huh," andrew hums, "got my someone right here." he pulls you into him, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. you smile.

for the first time, in this moment, josh thinks he might be understanding why you two are together.

[ruinix]

God I might get in trouble for saying this but when I say I need to worship the man that is quinn hughes I mean it!

Hello, lovely. Here, you will never be in trouble, coz it is Quinn who will be in trouble for existing and being hot. 🙂‍↕️ This should be a simple thought….but….it became a full drabble. [This thot is also inspired by an excerpt i saw in Instagram (see at the end)] Severely no BETA. It is 3AM when i finish it.

Burning Touches

TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Hurt/Comfort (slight), Body worship (m!receving), Teasing, Unprotected Sex (protections, please. It’s important, lovely), Overstimulation (m), Quinn is being pathetic (kinda subby if you squint. He is definitely. / Switch notes) or he is just too weak for you 😉

Count: 1716 words | Masterlist | Taglist

Quinn shivers the moment your hands finally touch his skin after hours of you tracing soft circles over his shirt. His hands grip the sheets to prevent himself from breaking his promise not to pounce on you and let you do what you want to do, because he will. He’s so close when all he can see is you on top of him.

Your eyes are glazed as you pour every bit of your attention on him.

The longer this goes on, the more he yearns for it. Every second, every minute, every hour, every day. That is all he wants. Him occupying your mind, because you occupy his. Every fucking day of the year.

When your finger slips under the hem of his shirt, he groans, nearly jumping at how quickly your eyes meet his, falling to his throat like you’ve marked the very sound that came straight from his fucking soul. Because it truly did. He’s fully bare. All his soul. All his body even fully clothed. All his mind. Every inch of him is at your mercy.

Then up, up and up, your hand travels. You purposely scratch your nails on his skin, marking and staking your claim with streaks. Physically temporary. Mentally permanent. Do you realize that? Every scratch you’ve made on his body is forever ingrained in his soul. Every single one.

All he can do is moan, pathetically thrusting his hips up for relief that he’s not at all getting because you aren’t sitting on his cock. Just on his thighs. His fucking thighs that are covered by his fucking sweatpants. Damn it.

‘Just why didn’t he just wear his boxers? Why did he pick these sweatpants after the shower? Just why?’ he hounds past self.

"Take it off, Quinn," you order, bringing him back to his reality.

You don’t need to expound. He understands, quickly sitting up, tugging his shirt with one hand, whimpering like a fool when you climbed off him so he can also remove his pants and briefs. His heart is aching at the smallest distance from you standing off the bed, your hands behind you. Too far. You’re too far. You shouldn’t be this far away from him. This shouldn’t be allowed.

You’re just two feet away, but it feels like you’re on the other side of a cliff where the connecting bridge has rotted and broken from the middle, effectively not letting him cross when all he needs is to be stuck to your skin. It won’t matter to him if there will be a deadly drop of sharp stone edges or a raging river. He will climb down—jump down if necessary—and crawl his way up to get to you. He needs you.

Despite his need, he only stares as he burns. He’s on fire as your burning-yet-dazed eyes soak in every detail of his body, taking your time. From his tousled hair, to the strands falling on his temple, to his slightly overgrown beard, to his shoulders, to his chest, to his abs, to his leaking cock, to his legs, down to his fucking toes. That makes him squirm, sitting back down with weak knees, his breaths coming in harder and harder.

His cock twitches when your eyes land on it. When your tongue darts out to sensually lick your lower lip, he falls further down steps of insanity. It hurts. His cock aches. So much. He needs to be touched by you. He needs to be fucked by you. He needs you more than ever.

Yet he sits, because he needs you to see how good he can be. For you.

 So good as he silently gazes at you, yearning for nothing more but your slightest touch.

"Just one touch. Please. Please. My Love," is the plea that got stuck at the tip of his tongue. The plea that he hopes you can see in his eyes, in the way he trembles. You must see him. He begs you to see.

The relief he feels when you step forward, crossing the impossible distance, is overflowing. Then you touch him, your palm meeting his chest, pushing so gently yet firmly. He fucking whines. You touched him. Now, he’s shaking even more. Too rattled. The anticipation is getting too much that his eyes burn from unshed tears. He can barely think as he follows your wordless order. He moves back to lay down. He gasps when you mount him. A lazy smile on your pretty face makes his chest tighten.

Why are you so beautiful? You are literally glowing. It’s probably the warm light of the lamps that you’ve carefully picked that made his house a home for both of you.  Yeah, the lights. But it’s you. You glow because you’re you. You glow because you are the light of his life.

A beacon that saves him in the darkness of nights.

No matter how exhausted he is—from the game losses, from the harsh speculations about him leaving, from the coldness of his teammates, his friends, being moved, from the cruel reality that his happiness doesn’t—or won’t ever—matter in the team after he gave everything for the team—you’re there to make it all better.

Oh, he’s lucky to have you.

His love.

He only realizes that he is silently crying when your thumbs brush away his tears, when you lean down and start to kiss the falling drops. You’re here. Always.A broken sob finally escapes him when you press your forehead against his. No words or permissions need to be said. He brings his arms around you as he seeks more comfort. The heated moment takes a pause. He cries because he needs to let it out and you know that.

“Don’t leave me,” he pleads. “Ever.”

“I won’t,” you immediately reply with no hesitation. “I’m here.”

“Again.” He tightens his hold.

“I’m here.”You squeeze your thighs against his sides, putting your weight on his chest, to ground him. It works. It always does. You repeat, “I’m here, Quinn.”

He cries and cries. He feels so vulnerable and so safe. He can be who he is, feel what he feels, break when he needs to, because you will always walk beside him, stop with him, wait with him as he gathers his pieces back together. You see him. All of him.

And he sees you.

He loves that he matches everything you give him. He will never be tired of doing so.

For minutes you two stay like that. Holding one another. Until his tears dry. Until he purges all the negativity with the help of your light that guides and that incinerates what needs to be gone. Until all that’s left is him still being absolutely fucking horny. His cock is begging for release as you softly rub your pussy over him, so slowly, so deliberate, because you know that his need is now different.

You press soft kisses all over his face, neglecting his lips where he needs it the most. Your hands slowly guide his to the headboard where he understands it should stay. He gulps and grips the bar. Shivers run down his spine because you don’t move to secure his wrists with the shackles dangling there for him to use on you or for you to use on him. Now, it’s for the latter, but you don’t use it. You simply trust him to keep his hands there. He won’t betray your trust. Not ever.

You kiss him lower. To every part of his body that you took your time drinking in earlier. He burns and burns and burns. So much more that you are touching him. Your lips ignite goosebumps on his skin, your tongue darting out to taste every bead of sweat that appears.

Your silent yet so loud repeated and cycling murmurs strum the strings of his soul, “You’re beautiful. You’re handsome. You’re strong. You’re amazing. You’re clever. You’re tenacious. You’re the very best.”

So affirming.

So touching.

He feels worshiped. Every kiss, every lick, every word affirms him. He feels loved. You love him. Only fool would be blind to that fact. Quinn is not a fool.

So, for every compliment, he answers, “I love you.”

Even if you don’t need to, once or twice, you reciprocate, “I love you too.”

When you kiss every exposed inch of him except for his lips and cock, you move up his body with more. Only now, your kisses are more of bites than kisses like you want to eat him.

You are eating him.

And instead of ‘I love you’s, while his knuckles are turning white as he grips the bar harder that he feels his arms cramping, his soul reverberating with every beat of his heart, he says “Please. Bite down harder.”

He needs you to leave bruises.

He needs you to break into his skin and make him bleed.

He needs you to swallow the slightest drops of blood of him.

He needs it so much.

Then, instead of compliments, you chuckle against his skin. Your eyes twinkle as you meet his pleading eyes. You murmur, mocking him, “Oh, you would like that, huh, Handsome?”

You won’t leave marks.

Not even the slightest imprint of your teeth. Not even the slightest discoloring for a hickey.

Not when he begs and whines and whimpers. Not when you sink your pussy down his cock. Not even when you fuck him after telling him not to move. Not when your pussy clenches around him so hard that he comes for you.

Over and over again.

However, when his mind is raw and fuzzy from how much you milk his cock that he can’t physically come anymore and when a tear of frustration escapes him, you finally bite down hard into his neck until his skin breaks.

Pain and pleasure shoot down his exhausted body. His cock twitches, aching and wanting to come but nothing comes out.

He is blacking out, his hands letting go of the bar, falling on the bed, not even going around you. He’s so spent.

Any noise is getting muffled, yet he hears your breathless and exhausted words so clearly.

“Such a good boy, Quinn. You did so well for me.”

The excerpt (I fear I got no link to source because I only screenshotted it days ago and it didn't leave my head one bit):

Good night 💙💙💙 I love you, sweeties, lovelies.

[buntanteen]

cockwarming dilf!mingyu thoughts (nsfw)

summary: thoughts on reader cockwarming dilf!kim mingyu :3

contains: 18+ nsfw! mdni!!

✩ svt writing & fic rec masterlist ✩

thinking about cock warming and slow fucking dilf!mingyu

after closing the bedroom door behind him, mingyu turns to meet your gaze. the moment the two of you make eye contact, you both gravitate towards each other. the slow movements of feeling up his chest turn into rapid ones trying to undress each other.

walking backwards to mingyu bed, falling into the white sheets with him hovering about you. grazing open mouthed kisses and licks across each other's necks. nosing against each other’s skin as he slips into you. feeling so so so full as you grind down onto his pretty cock.

slow movements of mingyu's hips hitting every spot making you in absolute bliss. the pace slowing down to barely slow fucking. heavy breaths, quiet moans and slips of whimpers filling the room.

trying to keep quiet so none of his kids hear the two of you. mingyu having his arms wrapped around you and his head laying on top of your chest. you have one hand trailing down the curve of his broad back. the other hand is carding your fingers through his hair to move it away from his sweaty forehead.

the summer evening breeze cooling down your flushed skin. the sunset view illuminating his honey skin. the warmth of your and mingyu's bodies lulling the two of you to sleep.

bun note: my other mingoo writing -> bestie fwb!mingyu headcanons

author note: do not distribute my work on other platforms without my consent. if you see my writing in places other than this tumblr account, please let me know. my writings are purely fictional fantasises for fun. the people i write about are real human beings and should still be treated as such. please do not take my writings seriously or as truth.

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Is That A Promise? (Venom One-Shot)

Eddie Brock x GN!Reader / requests are open and encouraged

Summary: Telling you about Venom does not go entirely how Eddie planned.

CW: mentions of monster fucking, Eddie is oblivious and a dumbass (I think I have a type)

Venom Tag List: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

You’d known Eddie Brock a good while by this point. You’d started dating him a while back, and while he put others on edge, you’d found the way he talked to himself out loud rather charming, actually. 

At first, you weren’t sure if he was just unmedicated, or undiagnosed. But then the news broke about the symbiote, and then there was the footage. And when Eddie started coming home right after news broke of some other attack or taking out of a bad guy or criminal or whoever, you’d put two and two together. 

It was kind of hard not to. Particularly as his conversations with himself could vary from topic to topic in the span of six words or less.

 

Eddie had asked to meet up for lunch today at your favourite restaurant. He’d seemed a bit off on the phone, and given how prone you were to anxiety, your immediate thought had been that he was breaking up with you and that you’d done something to upset him or his bodily guest- who you did not officially know about, of course. 

You’d gotten there early to prepare yourself for whatever shitshow was about to follow and to your immense surprise, Eddie had shown up pretty much right after you. Eddie was always running late, so this change in pace was also mildly concerning. You were not sure how this was going to go and you did not like that one bit. 

“You’re here early, too,” Eddie had said, swallowing thickly and avoiding eye contact. You nodded, and cleared your throat, gesturing for him to sit down at the table opposite you. 

“Yeah, I wanted to make sure we had a spot,” you replied, smoothing down your shirt. Bit of a nervous habit. That and ripping at your nails, but that was beside the point. 

“Right,” Eddie replied. 

And then the two of you lapsed into silence. You spent a good five to ten minutes appearing to read over the menu as if this wasn’t a regular spot for you and you didn’t know exactly what you were going to order. In fact, you’d be surprised if the cooks weren’t already making it up for you even though a waiter hadn’t come over yet. 

“Shut up,” Eddie hissed quietly. You peered over the menu to eye him curiously, one brow arced in question. 

“I didn’t say anything, Eddie.” 

“Yeah, I know. I- uh, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. You hummed, and put the menu down to give him your attention. 

“About me shutting up?” 

“No- God, this is not going at all like I planned.” Eddie rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. 

You said nothing, waiting patiently for him to work out his wording.

 

“I really like you,” he started, and you nodded, replying with the same sentiment. “And, well, there’s something I’ve been hiding from you.”

 

“Right…” This is where you expected him to tell you he was married (doubtful but not impossible) or had cancer or something terrible. Dear God, please no. 

“Look- you’ve seen on the news, yes, the, uh- the attacks. Yeah?” 

You nod. Ah, so he was finally telling you about his friend living literally rent-free in his body. Okay, you could relax a little. 

“He’s me. Venom, he lives in my body. He’s in my head. Like, all the time. Right now.” 

Eddie looked at the table where he was picking at the tablecloth. You were silent for a second, and Eddie clearly took that to mean you were horrified or disgusted or something. You were a little nervous about it, sure, but you’d also been living with him for the last few months. If Venom was planning to take you out, he would have done so by now, surely. You figured this to mean you were safe enough. You’d also seen your fair share of monster porn, so you weren’t exactly unkeen on the idea of dating someone who sometimes had a monster body. It was kind of hot, actually. You shook the thought out of your head and tried to focus.

“Oh, yeah- I knew about that,” you replied, and the way Eddie’s head snapped towards you was almost comical. 

“You what?”

 

“Yeah, I figured that out a while ago. I was just waiting for you to tell me in your own time.”

 

Eddie blinked, and a black residue appeared on the back of his hand. It swirled and gathered on his hand before reaching for you delicately. You met it, brushing your finger over it softly. The goop (for lack of a better word) seemed to shiver pleasurably and you smiled.

 

“Can I meet him later?” 

Eddie nodded, watching the interaction with disbelief. He’d thought that you’d go running and screaming through the doors or something, not be rubbing your fingers over Venom like you were fingering some Play-Doh. 

“Y-yeah, later,” he agreed. “Not here. When we get home.”

 

You grinned and the black substance retreated back into Eddie’s skin as a waiter appeared by your table. 

“What can I get for you? The regular?” 

You looked at Eddie and clicked your tongue thoughtfully. 

“The usual with a serving of chicken nuggets on the side, please.”

 

The waiter nodded, scribbled it own on his pad and wandered off in the direction of the kitchen. Eddie looked at you in question. He knew you weren’t big on nuggets. 

“They’re for Venom,” you explained, propping your head up on your palm. Eddie looked to the side as if listening to something carefully. 

“Venom says thank you-” Eddie said before cutting himself as Venom said something else in his head. “No, I’m not saying that. No. No.” 

“Say what?”

Eddie sighed defeatedly- something you think he did a lot when it came to Venom. 

“Venom said he could kiss you right now.” Eddie looked mortified as the words left his mouth. You burst into laughter. 

“Is that a threat or a promise? I hope it’s a promise,” you replied, wiggling your eyebrows at the two of them. 

Eddie swallowed thickly and blushed as Venom said something else. You’d have to see if Venom could swap hosts sometime. It would be nice to have a conversation while out and about like that. 

“Promise,” Eddie replied. 

Good.

[zephyrchama]

Taking a bath with Asmodeus must be so relaxing.

The tub is filled with a frothy foam. It clings to your skin before slowly sliding off and plopping back into the water. It can be shaped into little sculptures. It glitters like white snow dotted with blood red flower petals.

The air is heavy and humid but not stuffy thanks to a fresh, fruity scent wafting up from the bubbles. The water is warm and toasty and you sink down to your chin to escape the cold circulating above the tub. Your skin feels plump and smooth.

Asmodeus pulls you into his lap and blocks you from escaping with his leg. He's playful, grabbing you by the ribs while he hums a tune into your hair. His thumbs small circles into your sides. He doesn't want you to hide that pretty little face of yours, but if you're that averse to getting out of the water, he'll just have to keep you within arm's reach.

With your movement limited, you do the only thing you can: stretch up to give him a foamy mohawk. He holds you steady as you brave the chilly air, droplets of perfumed water racing down your exposed skin while the seconds go by. Freshly washed, his wet hair is like putty in your hands. It's a rush job, but a fine mohawk if you dare say so yourself. Upon its completion you sink back into the bath. There's a sloshing noise as you submerge your neck and lean against Asmodeus' shoulder. His skin temperature is ever so slightly warmer than the water.

Asmodeus retaliates with a bubbly mustache to adorn your upper lip. It tickles your nose, which he gives a cheeky tap. Some sideburns would look good with it.

[horsegirlwarcrimes]

for @skeren ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜

"Mu-shidi?" Yue Qingyuan asked.

Mu Qingfang was sitting on a decorative rock in one of Qian Cao Peak's small meditation gardens with his head in his hands. Yue Qingyuan paused, hesitating at the edge of the garden as he watched Mu Qingfang's shoulders heave with a deep sigh.

"Zhangmen-shixiong. In your purview as sect leader, do you believe I have the power to medically relieve someone from their position of authority on the grounds of madness?" He asked.

"Ah, I should have known this was coming," Yue Qingyuan said. He approached and sat next to Mu Qingfang on the rock, folding his arms over his knees and offering a small smile. "Will Mu-shidi finally be requesting this one's resignation?"

Mu Qingfang snorted a laugh and uncurled, but not without rubbing once more at his brow. "Actually, I meant myself."

"You?"

Mu Qingfang turned to look at him. Yue Qingyuan's brows shot up, startled at the absolutely exhausted and frantic look on his face. The healer was pale, his eyes shadowed, and Yue Qingyuan realised for the first time that some of his hair was slipping out from his wooden guan.

"What happened?" Yue Qingyuan asked, reaching out to catch Mu Qingfang's wrist. Mu Qingfang allowed the contact, not protesting at the reversal of their usual position as Yue Qingyuan probed his meridians, which Yue Qingyuan thought was a sign something was truly wrong.

"It's Shang-shidi," Mu Qingfang said gravely, which was not what Yue Qingyuan was expecting.

"What do you mean? Did something happen to Shang Qinghua? Did he—do something?"

"Is Zhangmen-shixiong familiar with the Bleeding Heart-Tongue Berry?"

"The one that causes full-body hemorrhaging?"

"No, that's the Crimson Bleeding Heart Berry."

"Oh. Oh, the one that requires oral dual cultivation to cure the deadly fever?"

"No, that's—it doesn't matter! The Bleeding Heart-Tongue Berry's sap and flesh is a powerful truth serum. It compels anyone who consumes or comes into physical contact with it to say whatever is on their mind, with complete honesty."

Yue Qingyuan looked around nervously. "We don't have an outbreak, do we?"

Mu Qingfang sighed one more, pushing his hand under his glasses to press against his eyes. "Shang-shixiong came into contact with some when he was on his last mission off the mountain. I have no idea how, since he was assigned to go secure a trade deal to the North East and they only grow in the South West, but—"

"But he was afflicted, and is now compelled to speak the truth?" Yue Qingyuan asked.

Mu Qingfang slipped his hand from Yue Qingyuan's so he could grip his arms, leaning in intently.

"He is driving. Me. Insane."

—

Mu Qingfang led Yue Qingyuan to one of the nearby patient rooms. Inside, Shang Qinghua sat at a low tea table, sipping at a cup that smelled medicinal and poking at some nuts and seeds on offer. Nothing looked amiss—Shang Qinghua didn't look damaged or ill, and the room was neat and orderly.

When they entered, Shang Qinghua's head shot up.

"Mu-shidi! Zhangmen-shixiong! This one is—not super glad to see you! Not that you're not great. Mu-shidi, I really appreciate how you keep us all alive. Remember that time I accidentally drank ink as a disciple and you had to pump my stomach? Yeah, I so am glad you were there to do that and not let me die. And Zhangmen-shixiong, you're very hot, and I love that, and I find how sad you life is—well, troubling actually, although not enough to do anything about it. You kind of make me uncomfortable to be around. But the hotness helps! Not right now, though. Right now I would love if you would leave, because I really don't want to tell you about anything I am thinking about, because I just got done spending three days sucking demonic dick and I really don't want to answer any follow up questions about—"

Shang Qinghua's eyes went wide. He grabbed a handful of the snacks and shoved them into his mouth, presumably hoping to stem the flow of words. Instead he immediately choked on them and coughed up walnuts and melon seeds over the table.

Yue Qingyuan rubbed his forehead. "Ah. I think I see the problem."

[misswynters]

Big Bear

short drabble

featuring. Claggor x reader

a/n. ew this is celery (idk why i wrote this, enjoy my cringiness for claggor)

Zaun was always a city of noise, of heat, and of endless motion. It was a place where the streets hummed with the clanging of machines, the echo of heavy boots, and the constant pulse of life. But in the midst of it all, you always found peace in Claggor's company.

You and Claggor had always been close, but over time, the bond between you grew into something more. He was a big guy, towering over most people with broad shoulders and arms that were built for lifting heavy things. But despite his rough appearance, you had always known there was more to him. There was a softness to his heart, a tenderness in the way he looked at you when he thought no one was watching.

The way he’d chuckle softly at your jokes, the way he’d make sure you were always safe. You admired his quiet strength, the way he moved through the world with purpose. You could always rely on him, whether it was to help you carry something or to keep you safe when the world felt too overwhelming.

One day, you were hanging out in the corner of a rundown tavern, sipping a cup of warm cider to combat the chill of Zaun's weather. The others were nearby: Jinx, Vi, and the rest of the crew. However, you found yourself drawn to Claggor’s presence. He was leaning against a pillar, looking out over the others, but his eyes were always coming back to you, just to make sure you were alright.

You were tiny compared to him, a little more delicate than most, but you had never let it stop you. You often joked about how the rest of the crew treated you like their little sibling, but Claggor’s attention was always different. He treated you like you were something to be cared for. And you never minded it.

"Hey, what's up?" Claggor asked, walking over to you with that characteristic smile on his face.

You tilted your head back, catching the glint of amusement in his eyes. "Nothing much. Just thinking." You shrugged, taking another sip of your drink.

Claggor raised an eyebrow, stepping closer, his massive frame towering over you. "Thinking, huh?" He crouched down to your level, his eyes softening as they met yours. “About what?”

You sighed, looking up at him with a smirk. “How you’re so huge, Claggor. I don’t even know how you can fit in places sometimes."

His laugh came out low and rumbling, the sound somehow making you feel warm inside. "You’re the one who needs to watch out, not me. I’m a lot bigger than I look."

That was true. His arms were thick with muscle, and the biceps that you’d once admired now seemed to pulse with strength as he flexed them playfully. The sight made something inside of you stir. There was something undeniably magnetic about the way he carried himself. His physical strength, his imposing size, it was all so gentle with you.

Before you could think too much about it, Claggor’s large hand reached out, curling around your waist as he effortlessly lifted you off your feet with a single arm. The move was so natural, so fluid, that it took you by surprise, and you found yourself gasping a little. "Wha—Claggor!" You laughed, trying to keep yourself steady, your hands resting lightly on his forearm.

His grin widened, and he held you even closer, pulling you against his chest as if you weighed nothing. “Told you, you need to watch out for me. You’re so tiny, it’s like picking up a feather.”

You were surprised by how easily he could lift you, his big arms cradling your body like you were nothing. It felt both safe and dizzying, his touch so secure but also sending a rush of warmth through your body. He smelled like sweat, metal, and the faintest hint of something musky.

"You’re so strong," you whispered, unable to help yourself as you gazed up at him. His muscles flexed beneath your hands, and your heart skipped a beat.

Claggor’s face softened as he looked down at you, his eyes flickering with something deeper than his usual teasing. “I’m strong because I have to be," he said, his voice quieter now. "But with you... I don’t need to show off. You make me want to be gentler."

You felt your heart swell at his words, the sincerity in his voice pulling you in. You leaned in slightly, pressing your cheek against his shoulder. His grip on you tightened, pulling you closer still.

"Youre such a softie, Claggor," you whispered, your voice soft, barely above a breath. "Like a cuddly teddy bear."

Claggor's grin widened, and he let out a soft laugh. "Guess that makes you my favorite person to spoil," he said, his tone full of warmth. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. "You’ve got a way of making me feel like I can be soft and still be enough."

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and you let out a quiet, contented sigh. There was something so comforting in his presence, in the way he held you. In his arms, you felt small, sure, but you also felt like the most important person in the world to him.

"Claggor," you whispered, looking up at him through your lashes. “You really know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you?”

His gaze softened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing lightly against yours in a soft, lingering kiss. The connection was so tender, so full of quiet affection, that you almost didn’t want it to end. But when it did, Claggor pulled back just slightly, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

“I don’t have to try too hard, do I?” he teased, his voice low, warm, and full of affection.

“No,” you said softly, reaching up to touch his jaw, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers. “You never have to try too hard.”

His gaze darkened just a little, his hand sliding to the back of your neck as he pulled you closer again. This kiss was deeper, slower, and it left you breathless. You couldn’t help but melt into it, feeling his strong arms around you, his body pressing you close in a way that made you feel safe and cared for.

When he pulled back, he smiled at you again, a soft, loving smile that melted your heart. “I’ll always be here, y’know. To keep you safe, to make you feel special.”

You smiled up at him, your heart racing. “Of course, Claggor. I know.”

And in that moment, you didn’t need anything more than the quiet certainty that he would always be by your side, his strength and tenderness a perfect balance for your own quieter nature. In his arms, you had everything you needed. His love, his strong arms and most importantly his wonderful big heart.

taglist. @diffusebread

[petrichorium]

the first time you give in and let shanks into your bed—after months and months of very persistent dashing grins and cloying sweet-talk—you don’t realize until he has you pressed against your bedroom door, with his singular hand tucked beneath your skirts to grasp the back of your knee and hook your leg around him, that the vest you’ve chosen today is held together by a row of small buttons at the front.

it’s an issue it seems he’s only just realized too, as he pulls away from your lips and stares down at your bust.

“buttons,” he says with a pout, thumb tapping pensively against the side of your knee. “is this a test?”

“an accident,” you laugh. “i’ll help—“

“no.” shanks nips at your finger playfully before you can touch your neckline. “not proper to make a lady undress herself.”

it shouldn’t be a surprise, you suppose, but he’s more skilled than you anticipate. with teeth and tongue he manages to undo three before the steady unveiling of your cleavage distracts him. letting go of your leg, he reaches up to work at the fourth even as his tongue runs hot over the newly exposed skin of your chest.

then you feel him pause. he blinks; his eyes are dark and stormy, so deep red they might as well be black. though you often find it difficult to parse out what he’s thinking, it hardly takes a genius to gauge the way that big hand catches hold of the side of your vest, teeth grazing the other; preparing to forego any more delay and simply tear the damn thing apart.

“pop them,” you sigh out, somehow unwilling to speak more than a murmur, “rip it off. i won’t stop you. but—“

you pause just as shanks does the same, eyes darting up to meet yours over the heaving swell of your chest and fingers freezing where he’s gripped the fabric of your bodice.

“you won’t do much more than touching tonight,” you finish.

those eyes sharpen. a thrill goes through you, as his fingers flex for half a moment—and then he’s surging up to kiss you again, hard and heavy and biting, drawing a heady giggle from your tongue. his arm slips around your thighs, tightening to lift you from the solid wood you’ve been pressed against before he turns to take a scant few strides and deposit you onto your bed, not once parting from your lips.

only when you’ve settled does he pull back, just slightly, pressing his forehead to yours as he moves his arm to brace himself on his elbow and then giving a surprisingly chaste peck to the tip of your nose as he begins a descent.

he lingers at the edge of your neckline, sucks at your skin, then kisses down your stomach over the fabric that still covers you; his hand is eager but gentle as it slides beneath the hem of your dress again, rough calluses brushing against your foot and ankle and calf until he’s palming your knee and pushing the fabric up over your thighs.

“well.” that look in his eye is more of a glint now, accompanied by a grin and a wink that has you rolling your eyes as shanks disappears from sight. “suppose i’ll find something we can do without taking that damn thing off, eh?”

[gundamthey17]

"I doubt we're dealing with a redcap," Edwin said, scanning the bookshelf for a particular tome. "It seems far more likely to be a will-o'-the-wisp or some other -" He gasped and dropped the book he had just grabbed.

Charles immediately stopped playing with his football. "You okay? What's wrong?"

"I'm fine," Edwin replied, hating how his voice had suddenly gone thready. He did not pick up the book.

Charles walked over, looking first at Edwin, then down at the book.

A spider scuttled across its surface.

Charles crouched down and reached out to cup the arachnid in his hands. "Hey there, little guy," he said softly. "I'll just take you outside, won't I?" He started for the window, then seemed to think better of it and headed for the door instead. "If I put you on the window, I reckon you'll probably just come right back in. Back in a tick!"

Charles quickly returned to the office, sans spider. Edwin had not moved. His breathing was carefully even. Charles glanced at him, then bent down and picked up the book. "Alright?" he asked lightly.

Edwin found he could not meet his friend's eyes. He took the book and turned away. "You did not need to do that."

"What, let it out? Better than killin' it, isn't it?"

Edwin gave an exasperated sigh. "No, I mean you did not need to do anything at all. It was just a spider, for goodness' sake. I am not some frightened child."

"Never said you were."

"I could have handled it myself. It... surprised me, is all. I just needed a tick."

"I know you could." Charles came up next to Edwin and rested his arm on Edwin's shoulder. Amazingly, he sounded as if he meant it.

"Then why -"

"'Cause I was here. Did you want to take care of it?"

"No," Edwin admitted after a moment's hesitation.

"Then why shouldn't I do it?"

"Again, I am not a child," Edwin replied crisply.

Charles sighed. He stepped in front of Edwin and put his hands on his shoulders. "I know that. You don't need to prove anything. Me wanting to help out doesn't mean I think any less of you. You take care of stuff I don't like doing, so I can do the same for you. Okay? Trust me, I still know that you're one tough bastard, and you can handle anything you need to."

Edwin managed a small smile. "Very well. My ego is appeased."

Charles grinned broadly. "Great! Then my job here is done. So, you said something about a will-o'-the-wisp?"

[keepswingin]

open heart

Zayne is pushing his way through the masses as soon as he realizes it's you, hand wrapping around the bloody mess of your own.

Your gaze blearily sweeps across the swarm of white coats and scrubs before it lands on his face, lips pulled firm, eyes flicking rapidly across your body, trying to catalogue every single injury from sight alone.

You would laugh, if only you didn't hurt so much.

"Doctor Zayne," you whisper, forcing the words from your chest. It's meant to soften the crinkle between his eyes, the worry he's trying to hide, the iron grip he has on your hand. "I - I did it."

There's a pause as people move around you, so many different faces, voices, sounds. They push you through a set of doors you've never been behind before, and the hospital bed rattles with the force of it, though there are sets of hands keeping you steady, Zayne's steely gaze locked with yours.

"I finally found what - what I was looking for."

You think someone pokes a needle into your left arm, while another reaches over you for something that looks oddly like a mask, see-through and plastic. You only realize it's an oxygen mask when they pass it over to Zayne who takes it from them without looking away from you.

He doesn't let go of your hand, blood smearing against his pale skin.

"Of course you did," Zayne says in return, but his voice wobbles and nearly cracks. Another set of doors, a different set of lights that nearly blind you until he moves to block them, leaning over you. His fingers are featherlight as they brush across your face, gentle as they ease the oxygen mask into place against your skin.

Your chest feels lighter after a few shaky inhales. Zayne smiles when he sees the mask fog up, but it disappears just as quickly. He squeezes your hand hard enough to hurt. "Deep breaths for me, that's it." A pause. More doctors moving around, someone's hand falling on Zayne's shoulder. "You're going to be okay."

He turns to face the older man and for a long moment, you worry that he's going to cause a scene for your sake. You know from all ethical points that he can't be the one to operate on you, even in your pained state, but it doesn't mean that you want him to leave you. Not when so much hurts, not when you're sure you're bleeding more blood than you even have, not when his face is pinched like there's something seriously wrong.

The room is starting to clear out. A kind nurse runs her hand up your arm and squeezes the hand not held by Zayne, offering comfort. The older man gives a short nod to Zayne and moves back, pulling his mask over his chin.

You breathe out. Zayne is closer, hovering over you. When you meet his eyes they're searching yours for something, and you're not sure if the pain is making your vision blurry or if it's his eyes that hold a sheen to them they didn't have before. He leans down and leaves a kiss in your hair, lingering for a long moment before pulling away.

You want to say something, anything. Maybe this is your last chance and you're going to leave without saying anything, all because of a stupid oxygen mask. All because you couldn't move out of the way fast enough.

A tear slips from your eye and something within you thrashes with panic suddenly, your heart rate increasing. You don't remember anyone hooking you up to a heart monitor but apparently they did, and the machine reacts just as wildly, beeping erratically.

Zayne glances over at it before returning his gaze to you. For some reason, you think he understands exactly what you aren't able to say.

"I know," he says, voice steady. "I love you too."

The monitor calms, but your body is still struggling, unable to figure itself out. A different nurse tugs Zayne away from you, another doctor speaking to him in hushed tones. Probably about the facts of it all, of you surviving, of your body not giving up on you quite yet. Zayne likes facts, enjoys the stability of them, the truth of it all. His fellow doctors are offering the best kind of comfort they know, but Zayne simply looks at you and holds onto your hand.

Only when there's enough distance between you does he finally let go, the kind nurse beside you lowering your hand gently to your side before it falls and giving it a reassuring pat.

You hear the doors push open and then close. Faces filter in and out of your vision before it all finally fades away.

(part ii | part iii)