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g1itchtree · 5 months

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Divulgence- Part 1

Okay quick authors note cause! Why not!

This is a new lukadrinette series. Honestly I love this ship so much it needs more stuff so. Here I am! It’ll be a bit canon divergent, idk how much but Chat and Ladybug actually have proper communication so that’s fun.

Updates will be pretty sporadic, basically whenever the writing mood strikes me. I wrote this in only like a few hours but then l’ll go weeks without writing lmao

Also I really have no idea how to use tumblr and I’m on my phone so if these are formatted weird please let me know

That’s it I guess? Enjoy!

———

“Miraculous ladybug!” Ladybug shouted as she tossed the spotted Dino Huggie in the air. As always, the magic ladybugs swirled around the city, fixing any damage the akuma had caused.

There was one thing that couldn’t be reversed, however.

As Marinette- no, Ladybug. As Ladybug gave Alec his charm and the trio of heroes brought him back to his TV crew, Luka couldn’t help but dread the consequences of what he had learned today. Two of his close friends (if that could even describe what he felt for each of them) were Paris’s superheroes. The sheer fact that they risked their lives every day and still managed to make time for average civilian life was astounding.

He was beginnning to understand why Marinette was always running off.

After they were done with Alec, he and Ladybug zipped off toward an empty alleyway. As soon as the coast was clear he took off his Miraculous and handed it over.

“Thank you, Luka,” Ladybug smiled at him, tucking the bracelet back in her yo-yo. And yeah, he could totally see it now that he knew. He knew quantum masking was powerful and all, but they had the same exact smile, same sparkle in her eyes after a job well done. How could he have missed that?

“Thanks to you, our secret identities were preserved and no one discovered who Chat Noir and I really are.”

Oh, she was still talking. Luka should probably stop staring.

It didn’t seem to matter too much though, because she turned to leave right after. Except she stopped right before tossing her yo-yo, that nervous smile that was just a bit too tight and her eyes a bit too wide to be genuine on her face. “Not even you, right?”

“Not even me,” He confirmed, though he could feel his nerves bubbling up. “Luckily Wishmaker never hit you or Chat Noir.”

Ladybug narrowed her eyes at him, and he knew she could see right through him. Like he could hear her inner song, she seemed to be able to know his deepest thoughts, no matter how much he tried to play it cool. Sure, that was part of the reason he fell for her. She was always the first to comfort him whenever things got a bit much. But damn, if it wasn’t inconvenient right now.

With a look outside the alley to make sure no one was near, she let out a deep sigh, her shoulders slumped as she leant against the wall. “Tikki, spots off.”

With a pink glow, the suit slipped away, leaving only Marinette and her kwami behind, looking stressed to all hell.

“Sorry,” Luka muttered, mostly on reflex.

“It’s not your fault, I knew this was a possibility when I asked for your help,” She assured, fishing a macaron out of her bag and giving it to Tikki. “Is it just me, or Chat Noir too?”

“Both,” He admitted, tugging at the bottom of his hoodie with discomfort. “…you looked really cute as the knitting fairy?”

She looked at him with that adorable expression she had whenever she was disgruntled or surprised, nose scrunched and lips pursed slightly. She then let out a laugh, shaking her head and pressing her hands to her face. “Fuuuck, that’s embarrassing.”

“Not at all,” He waved it off, grinning just a bit despite the circumstances.

“What was Chat Noir’s?” She asked, then seemed to realize her mistake. “Wait, maybe you shouldn’t tell me that, scratch it-”

“He just wanted to please his parents,” Luka shrugged, figuring that wasn’t too bad. Lots of people wanted to do that. “Make them proud, do whatever they said.”

Marinette furrowed her brows ever so slightly, nodding after a moment. “Yeah, that makes sense. I know his dad is overbearing, but he still loves him.”

The two sat in silence as Tikki finished her snack, unsure of where to go from there. Eventually though, the tiny god wiped her face and gave Luka a smile, diving into Marinette’s bag.

“We should head back and find Adrien,” She said after that, pushing herself off the wall. “Can you come back to my place after? We… need to talk.”

“Of course,” He agreed, but really he was dreading that conversation. Many possibilities ran through his head, each worse than the last. Would she not let him be Viperion again? Would she tell him they couldn’t be seen together anymore? Would he have to leave the country just so Shadow Moth couldn’t get to him?

The endless downward spiral screeched to a stop as Marinette took his hand, giving him that tiny smile that said everything would be fine. “It’ll be okay. Let’s just head back for now.”

And so they went.

———

As soon as they reached her bedroom after talking with her parents, Marinette immediately started freaking out.

She paced back and forth, hands tugging at her hair as she started to plan. “Okay so obviously it’s bad that you know who both of us are. If it was just one that might be okay- hell I already told someone, and I let Chat know that he could do the same. But both is a recipe for disaster! If Shadow Moth finds out, then you or your family could get hurt, and if you’re akumatized? I don’t even- that can’t happen! I could load you up on charms, sure, but what if you lose them? Or they break? Wait, can they even break? What if-“

“Marinette,” Luka interrupted, making her stop in her tracks. “You’re going to burn a hole in your floor if you keep going like this.”

She let out a sheepish laugh, her eyes dropping to her feet. “Sorry, sorry.”

“Come on, sit down,” He offered, patting the spot next to him on the chaise. “Let’s work through this one problem at a time, without catastrophizing.”

“Right, okay,” She agreed, plopping down and taking a deep breath. “How about… do you have any questions for me?”

“You mentioned others know?” He started with, figuring that was easiest.

“Oh yeah, that’s a pretty recent development,” She admitted, looking down at her hands. “I told Alya, after the Gang of Secrets mess she figured something big was up. I… I was really struggling balancing my superhero and civilian life, and it kind of just came out.”

“That’s perfectly reasonable,” Luka said, giving her his patient smile that honestly made it super hard not to cry. “I’m sure being Ladybug is stressful enough, and after you became Guardian? I’m not sure I would’ve been able to handle it myself.”

She bit her tongue, holding back from saying that she wholeheartedly believed anyone could do better than her, and she was sure Luka would do utterly amazing. She instead continued her answer, picking at her nails a bit. “I told Chat Noir who Carapace was, cause it was a bit unfair that I got someone and he didn’t, and obviously Carapace isn’t me so there was no risk of him accidentally telling me his identity. And the two are around the same age, and I know Carapace can keep a secret if it really matters. I’m not sure if Chat ever approached him though.”

Luka nodded, silent for a while before asking his next question. “Will… will I get to be Viperion again after this?”

Marinette sighed, dragging her hands over her face as she thought about it. “I don’t know… in all honesty, I really shouldn’t. But… you know how this all works already, and you’re really good at it too! Finding someone else I can trust to wield that power will be a lot of trouble. It’s easy to abuse it or not really know how to utilize it. And… I know Sass likes you a lot, too.”

That made Luka smile, a low chuckle escaping him. “Well, I like Sass too. I’d miss the little guy.”

Marinette couldn’t help but smile back, glancing to where the Miracle Box was hidden. “I guess… well, I won’t call on you unless it’s really needed. But… so long as no one ever finds out you know, then it shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”

“I can keep a secret, there’s no need to worry about that,” Luka assured, placing a hand on her shoulder.

She glanced up at him, the familiar butterflies returning once more. It wasn’t fair that he was just so… so charming! And comforting! And someone she could just be herself around without any fear! Not to mention absolutely gorgeous? Honestly, it’s like the universe was trying to make her suffer.

“Marinette?” He all but whispered, drawing her attention back to reality. His brows were pulled together ever so slightly and he was biting the inside of his cheek, sure signs that something was on his mind.

“What’s wrong?” She immediately asked, starting to panic. Did he think this was too much? Did he not want to be seen with her anymore? This was the first time they’ve really spoken after the breakup, and honestly, she didn’t know if she could watch him leave again. Even if it was for the better.

“I… the whole reason we broke it off was because you’re Ladybug, right?” Luka asked, immediately filling her with dread. “Because you had to keep leaving, and I couldn’t know why.”

She winced at that, turning gaze back down to her hands. “Yes, that’s most of it… and I’m so sorry for that, Luka. I just couldn’t tell you. If I hadn’t broken down, I wouldn’t have even told Alya! I just didn’t want to put you in danger, but I still-”

“No, I get it,” He immediately assured, moving the hand on her shoulder to her own hand. “Now I do, at least. I’ve never had any hard feelings about it, I knew you had your reasons. I still loved you, even though I couldn’t be the one who you open your heart to. I still do, even now.”

“You… you still…?” Marinette whispered, looking to him with wide eyes. Great, now she felt even worse for dumping all this on him. He now knew why it was totally unable to work at all, not with the utter mess that was her life.

“I do, and now that I know you’re Ladybug…” He trailed off, looking down to where his hand laid on hers, slowly interlacing their fingers. “I really wanted us to work, y’know? Is there… any chance we still might?”

“Wait, you-” She immediately moved back, pulling her hand away. “Are you serious? You- after all I did, you still-”

“Sorry, that was probably too much,” He immediately backpedaled at her reaction, hiding his obvious hurt behind a smile. She could see it though, and it made her feel all the worse. “I just wanted you to know I care about you. I get why you wouldn’t want to, though.”

“Hold on, I didn’t say that,” It was her turn to interrupt as she held her hand out, cutting him off. “Just… give me a minute. I honestly wasn’t expecting that.”

Luka softened at her flushed cheeks and how she bit her lip, his affection for her evident in the look he gave. “Of course, take all the time you need.”

She visibly relaxed at that, leaning against the back of the chaise as she contemplated it. She glanced up at him every so often, then at her picture board, and a few times towards the box.

“I… I wouldn’t be able to dedicate enough time to you,” Marinette started with. “I would always have to run off, leave you behind again.”

“And I’m okay with that,” He said. “I was just worried that something was wrong with you before, that you were in danger. Or that I did something wrong. But I know why now, and I can help you escape if it’s needed.”

She let out a sigh, knowing he had a point. “If Shadow Moth ever finds out who I am…”

“He won’t,” Luka immediately cut in, that passionate fire blazing in his eyes. God, she loved that look. “You’re always so careful. That’s why I was there today, right? To ensure Shadow Moth wouldn’t find you. And that was a good call. There’s no way he’ll find out who you are.”

He really wasn’t making this any easier, was he?

“Dammit, Luka…” She muttered, uncurling herself and moving back next to him. “I really lo…like you, too…” She winced at the stutter, cursing herself for being unable to really express her feelings. “You make me feel so… comfortable? I don’t know if that’s the right word. I can just relax around you, not worry about every little thing. I hated breaking it off. I do want to be with you, really. But… I still don’t think it’s a good idea. I still… I lik-”

“Is it Adrien?”

Marinette turned to him with wide eyes, sputtering at that. “I- wha- nooo, of course not! Why would I ever… was I that obvious?”

“I think the only one who doesn’t know is him,” Luka joked, bumping their shoulders together. “I don’t blame you. Honestly, I’ve got the hots for him too.”

“You do??” She almost shouted, mouth agape. “But- you just-”

“You can love more than one person, Marinette,” He started, taking her hand in his again. “It doesn’t have to be this exclusive thing. I mean, it’s definitely not everyone’s cup of tea, but I personally have no problem with you pursuing a relationship with Adrien while you’re with me.”

She looked from their hands to his eyes, utterly confused at this point. “I- I’m not sure I understand.”

He laughed at that, tucking a loose hair behind her ear. “That’s alright. I can try to explain.”

He turned away, a little smile on his face as he walked her through it. “Love isn’t something that’s limited. Some people choose to only love one person with their whole being, and that’s perfectly fine. But others prefer to have more than just one partner. They spread their love evenly and wholly. And you, Marinette, have more love to give than anyone I’ve met. I’d honestly feel bad keeping you to myself.”

She was silent, processing his words. “So… you, me, and Adrien would all be a couple?”

“That depends. I’m not sure if Adrien’s into me. But we don’t all need to date each other for it to work,” He explained. “As long as there’s communication and clear boundaries, then I see no reason why you can’t date who you want. The only question is, are you comfortable with that?”

Marinette thought about it, coming up short with a perfect answer, as was the pattern with her feelings. But… it sounded nice. “I don’t know. It… I guess I wouldn’t mind trying? I haven’t even considered that.”

“Most people don’t,” Luka smiled, turning back to face her. “It’s fine if you don’t want to. Just follow your heart.”

My heart really wants to kiss you.

The thought turned her bright red, but she was unable to deny its validity. Could you blame her? The way he looked at her, with endless compassion and devotion, made her absolutely melt. Now that she had this new perspective, she honestly couldn’t bear letting him go again.

It seemed he felt the same. He was slowly leaning in, bringing a hand to her face. Not pulling, just caressing her gently. His eyes flicked down to her lips then back up, a new glint of desire in them.

Fuck it.

She grabbed him by his hoodie and pulled him down to her before she could second guess herself. He jumped a bit in surprise but adjusted quickly, tilting his head ever so slightly as he reciprocated it.

It was quite honestly the best thing she’s ever done. His lips were soft and warm, and they fit against hers perfectly. His hands were rough from years of playing guitar, and the feeling of them on her was too good to ignore. The one holding her hand moved to her waist, drawing tiny shapes there.

They pulled apart after a few moments, both breathless at the exchange. Marinette immediately panicked once it was over, which should honestly be expected. “Oh my god, we just- wait I am so sorry I didn’t even ask that was so awful of me! I can’t believe I did that, I’m so-”

“Mari, it’s okay,” Luka interrupted with a laugh, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “I wanted it too, no worries. You can ask next time if it bothers you that much.”

She looked up at him with amazement, smiling nervously. “How do you always manage to calm me down?”

“I know you,” He murmured, sending her heart into overdrive.

She hesitated for just a second, a bit shy but really wanting to continue. “Can I… can I kiss you? Again?”

He huffed in amusement, dipping his head down to capture her lips in his. She immediately melted against him, a little content hum escaping her. She brought a hand to his hair, threading her fingers through it and pulling him closer.

She really had no idea what she was doing, but Luka made everything so easy. He slowly backed her up so she was against the back of the chaise, moving the hand on her cheek to the back of her neck. His tongue glided over her lips carefully before retreating, giving her the chance to back away if she needed to.

Yeah, like hell.

Instead, she gave an experimental poke of her, surprised to be met with his. She let him guide her, following his movements and slowly making bolder moves of her own. She tightened her grip on his hair, not quite pulling but definitely firm. A low groan escaped him and he kissed her with more fervor, clearly affected by her actions.

Marinette herself was thrilled with this course of action, giving a few more slight tugs as she wrapped her legs around him. Before they could get too into it however, she felt someone watching them. Many someones.

With a groan, she reluctantly pulled away, glaring over at the kwamis. Most of them had their heads poked out, including Tikki, the traitor.

Luka sat back with a laugh, giving a small wave to the creatures. Daizzi rushed forward first, flying around his head with excitement. “Are you the Guardian’s new partner? That’s so amazing! She’s been really upset, honestly. Staring at those photos of you all day, that glum look on her face.”

“That’s enough!” Marinette squeaked out, grabbing Daizzi and covering her mouth. “Another word and I won’t be sneaking you any choquettes!”

“We’re just happy for you, that’s all!” Xuppu cheered, the rest of the kwamis flying out. “And it sounds like you can still be with Adrien! It’s a win-win!”

“Please don’t take our choquettes!” Mullo whimpered, giving Marinette her puppy dog eyes.

“Ugh, fine, just don’t peak next time we make out…” She sighs, letting Daizzi go.

Luka perks up at that, shooting her a smirk. “Next time?”

Marinette turned red, waving her arms around awkwardly. “What? Did I say that? Pfft, how silly would that be? Unless you want there to be a next time, then I’d be more then happy cause honestly that was really hot and I wanted to keep going but! I get if you don’t want to cause I wasn’t really expecting to either, not to say it was amazing, it totally was, and please just shut me up already…”

He laughed at the last bit, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “I’m totally down for more. But maybe another time… I’m sure we’ll get some privacy next time?”

He looked to the kwamis, and each instantly nodded their agreement, giggling and looking between the two of them.

“See?” Luka gestures to them, that easy smile stretched across his face. “No trouble.”

“I should probably feed them now, anyways,” Marinette sighed, slowly standing up. “Do you want to grab something too?”

He grinned up at her, grabbing her hand and pulling the hatch down open. “Lead the way.”

#lukadrinette #lukadrien #adrinette #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #viperion #chat noir #ladybug and chat noir #ml ladybug #fanfic

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one-more-fangirl · 2 years

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bakugo katsuki — difficult

hot. damn.

that was... that was something alright. and y/n is sure they can hear some sniffles from the small group allowed to witness the ceremony.

hell, they even has tears threatening to ruin their make up themselves. but nobody can blame them. when someone pours their heart into a small speech (no matter how many swears it has), if you don't at least tear up, you're a robot.

and they knew their katsuki was a romantic under that scowl of his he usually put up, of course they knew. but they never expected him to let others see that side of him, and y/n didn't know if they were proud or a little pouty. that was their little secret.

ah, but as quick as that moment came, it left. no matter how much bakugo katsuki meant each and every word, he also liked knowing he'd won the bet. his thumb caressed the underside of their eyes, clearing the tears from there, extra careful to not smudge anything. his smile wasn't soft anymore. nope, it mocked them now.

"try and beat that, sweetheart," he whispered, chuckling lowly at the glare he got back.

all eyes on them now. no pressure. they could do this.

why did they have to do this?

in front of people. this idiot knew they loved him. everyone knew, the whole damn world. but oooh that smirk. it wasn't one you want to wipe with a kiss. no, it's one of those you want to punch, no matter how many times you've done it before. so y/n would make him eat his words.

so y/n straightened up, cleared their throat, and looked ahead at him. their eyes locked to his rubies, accepting the challenge face front.

"bakugo katsuki. you're so goddamn difficult," ...this could turn around, he decided. it was not the best start, but it would turn around "you're so stubborn you rarely change your mind about something, leaving the rest of us to adapt to your choices because you won't accept no for an answer. you're one of the meanest people i have ever met and you get on my nerves at least four times a day. seriously, with your yelling at every second of the day, and how rude you can be when you talk. having a conversation with you it's very challenging. even more so at first, because you don't want anything to do with new people...," was the good part coming at all? i mean seriously. what the fuck. katsuki was hotter and hotter at each sentence that came out of y/n. surely it had a point, this person never did anything without meaning to, and though normally he could tell, this time, it was daunting, "also. you refuse to have others help you, because it damages your ego or whatever... goddammit bakugo, why so difficult?!"

there's an eerie silence that y/n knows clings to everyone's bones. damp palms creaked, and they almost felt bad. almost.

"but you know me," they chuckled "i love a challenge. and i love how difficult you are, because even being so you've let me unrabble you and discover that for every little thing that makes you difficult you have a thousand that make you so incredibly easy to love. i love you, bakugo katsuki, and i am so happy i get to marry you."

he didn't even let anyone say that he could kiss his partner, his hands flew directly at their waist and pulled them to him, trapping their lips with his.

"you motherfucker. those were the worst vows ever," he grumbled, lips twitching up at their laugh.

"i still won. you should've seen your face, so shocked."

"whatever. and you say I'm the difficult one? you're insufferable."

"gotta deal with me forever now though. you just kissed the deal."

"hmmm... i take it back, i want the divorce"

"katsuki!"

#happy late birthday kats #katsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki #bakugo katsuki x you #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bnha #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x gender neutral reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x gn reader

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sehnsuchts-trunken · 2 years

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The Kings of Middle Earth - Thranduil | Thorin | Bard

pairing: Thorin x reader, Bard x reader, Thranduil x reader | gender neutral! btw lol

wordcount: i was too lazy to check

triggerwarnings: there's two sentences with gen z exaggeration indicating suicide, and i just want to say that this is not meant to in any way downplay suicide and suicidal thoughts. please don't take it seriously. if you have to fight those thoughts yourself, remember that there's telephone numbers and websites where you can ask for help

here are three gifs because christmas.

no im lying its because google wouldnt give me one of all three of them in one so i had to do them separately.

stan my kings or come die at their hands,, because you will, i dont make the rules- i’d say “or come die at my hands” but thats very unrealistic tbh, i wouldnt be half as good at fighting as them and also they can look out for themselves very well. mostly. partly. what im tryna say is fuck you if you dont like them

Being ambassador was fine. Usually. Fine when there weren’t three grown men, kings at that, gushing and fighting over you like teenage boys. And the fact that your family had mixed to the point where you had all their kin’s blood flowing through your veins - which had really got you this position in the first place, seeming like a good idea at the time and a very questionable one now - made it a ton worse. You had been fairly sure that you could play some kind of helpful role in the negotiations after this war, but all you had got yourself into was a mess that rather ensued another one instead of solving the first. In a way you were naively proud of it, flustered and bemused and all giddy because of it, but far more than that were you annoyed. They got on your nerves all the time and made your job so, so much more complicated than it had to be and than it initially had sounded like.

Today had been especially exhausting to say the least. Normally you ignored their behaviour, dismissed all they said that had nothing to do with negotiations, and quickly slipped out of the room before anyone could stop you. You didn’t quite know either why you were so disinclined to spend more time than necessary with them - certainly every other person in your place would enjoy it far more. But today of all days you were in no mood for another of those meetings, for negotiation and talk of war and their tiring attempts at snatching your attention away from the parchment you always had draped over your lap. You’d woken up in a bad mood already, then spilled your breakfast on your newly put on clothing and had to change it. Your horse seemed to be in the same kind of gloomy state you were in, because the second you’d slipped into the saddle it had thrown you right off again. Luckily it wasn’t a rainy day at least, so you’d only fallen onto grass and dirt and not mud to stain your shirt again.

You lived in a little house in Dale at the moment, one of those that was safe enough to sleep in without being crushed by a breaking ceiling. That really would’ve fit your mood though. Thorin had offered you chambers in the mountain, Bard and Thranduil had offered you one of their tents, but you’d declined both and declared that you’d gladly stay on your own down there in a house far enough away from all three of them that you didn’t have to see none of them even when you rode up to the mountain when there was a meeting to attend to. Because they did usually happen in the mountain. Only rarely did Thorin come to Dale, and then only when the two other kings had complained so badly about their rides that he had no other choice but to offer a meeting in their tent. Because he was certainly not about to offer chambers to them. And they would not have accepted anyway, neither of them, for very different reasons.

“Are you even listening?”

The pen you’d been holding slipped, drew a dark, black line down the parchment and fell to the ground with a thud. You cursed as you bent down and reached for it before surveying the damage it had done - this was one piece of parchment you would surely not be using further.

“I was, in fact, not”, you muttered, crumpling it in your hand and throwing it to the corner of the room - where you would absolutely have to go pick it up again once you were done, but couldn’t bother thinking about now. You’d been gloomily, silently sitting in your chair, staring at the parchment and your pen and not listening to anything the three of them had said. It was a wonder they spoke without your assistance anyway. Now you looked up to behold the mostly bemused face of Thranduil and the somehow a mix between worried and amused expressions of the other two. You straightened your back, ran one hand through your hair and tilted your head to the side a bit.

You might have been in the presence of three kings, but you certainly were not going to act like someone had shoved a stick up your ass, especially not after three months, three months!, of these ridiculous negotiations that could have been settled after one. And, despite the utter respect both Thorin and Thranduil were used to being shown, none of them had once commented on your less royally-fit behaviour. You were you, and the kings were also just men, with emotions and thoughts the same way you had them, so there really was no need to play the cowering animal. Yes, they had done great things, yes, they had a ton of influence, yes, they could probably have you executed or thrown into a cell in a matter of minutes, but they were not god-like beings that you should fear. Really, who could actually be afraid of these three absolute, jealous idiots?

So you leaned back in your chair and stretched your legs out on the stone floor. “I seem to have missed the entirety of the conversation, though I do have to admit I’m shocked there was one at all.”

Thranduil, who was in the chair opposite you which he’d claimed his ever since the first meeting, smiled, and it was a soft smile that you couldn’t help but return. If any of them were to be feared, it was him - but not by you, not when that lovely smile was so often directed at you, not when there lay something beautiful in his gaze that you could always spot when he was looking at you.

But it was Thorin who replied, and you tore your eyes away from the elf and towards the dwarf, who sat, of course, at the head of the table, lounging in his chair that was just slightly bigger and slightly more decorated than the others were. He was as proud as Thranduil was, but this was his home after all, and so he had all the potential to show it. Not that you minded - it was never his behaviour that was affected by it, not around you at least, it was pride for his people, pride for his kin, just the same way you knew Thranduil had it, too. It was strange how much the two had in common, though it led more to argument and difference than similarity.

“What is it that is on your mind so much you cannot pay attention to the one talk that happens without you?”

He was grinning a bit, though he tried his best to hide it. You did not - you laughed out loud without restraint, actually laughed for the first time today. As much as you cursed the lot of them, you loved them too, for they could cheer you up in a matter of seconds and have come close enough for you to throw away all reason more than once. You knew that if you were not here for work, you would not have denied them your blush and giggle and become as lovesick as you sometimes felt you wanted to be and had never been.

“Horrible morning, I have to be honest with you. But - The moment one sits down to think, one becomes all nose, or all forehead, or something horrid”, you quoted with the ghost of a smile on your face. “Thinking makes age a quick thing and beauty lingers only in youth. I don’t like losing all sense of reality, so I do dearly apologise.” You chuckled quietly as Thorin raised his eyebrows, looking only a little bewildered.

“Because we never get back our youth. The pulse of joy that beats in us at twenty, becomes sluggish. Our limbs fail, our senses rot. We degenerate into hideous puppets, haunted by the memory of the passions of which we were too much afraid, and the exquisite temptations that we had not the courage to yield to.” You laughed, almost snorting as you beheld the face of utter confusion and perplexity of the dwarven king. “It is in the brain, and the brain only, that the great sins of the world take place.”

You turned your head back only to see that Thranduil had raised his eyebrows all the same, and Bard was smiling faintly, eyes fixed so piercingly just on you that for one second you had to blink. It was no predatory gaze, no stare that could have made you uncomfortable, yet he seemed as though he could read you like an open book, and you had to admit you’d thought more than once that he knew you well without actually knowing you well. It was strange in itself that you were in this situation, kings so alike and different all the same, and while they took the same interest in you for whatever reason that you could not tell, they looked at you and spoke with you so uniquely that sometimes you wondered how they all held the same title.

“It’s a wonderful little book, one of my beloved favourites, but hauntingly real in a way that left me breathless upon first reading and still does whenever I open it, though now I can recite half of it”, you explained, rolling the remaining parchment in your lap to make it a scroll and putting it onto the table together with the pen, not believing that you had been here for hours and written down two sentences collectively, which now were gone as well, for you had crumpled them and thrown them away. You were well aware that you were not here to speak about books you enjoyed, and had someone told you half a year ago that you would care so little that it were three kings you would open up to so easily, you would have laughed at them.

“I don’t remember ever having read anything like it.”

You tilted your head to the side and looked at Thranduil, knowing well that the small smirk on his face was a mirror of your own, but only bothering to consider it for the sake of Thorin’s scowl you could see even out of the corner of your eye. It had become normal at this point, even though you still checked twice when it were not the elf nor the dwarf, but the human king, who was usually, though more expressive than Thranduil, less likely to show jealousy, jealousy of all things!, like that.

“I would have been shocked”, you admitted. “It’s human literature - the kind that no one reads anymore, I would have been surprised even if Bard had recognised it. But he does not strike me as the type who owns too many books anyway. Or do you?” You turned your head to look at Bard once again, ignoring wholly the way the elf tensed. You liked the three of them, but you simply could not bring yourself to be less annoyed by the constant competition about you. You, of all people. What reason was there for you to be fought over? By kings, dear god! No matter how much you did not want to consider their titles, there was life to be lived, people to be tended to, courts and lords and ladies to be satisfied - indeed, as much as you did not want to worry about it, as much as you did not want to see them in that way, they were kings, after all, and you were no ruler, not even born royal, and certainly not suited for a crown, even if it was one won in battle the way Bard had.

Your expression fell once more today, and you slumped back into the chair, barely noting the shake of his head and the answer he readied himself to give turning into silence as he frowned. Of course it was today that you managed to also pull yourself down further. Hadn’t they just managed to cheer you up? And hadn’t you recited about how horrendously thoughts could poison the own mind a literal second ago?

“What is it?”, Bard asked. You couldn’t bear the sheer worry that was laced with the simple question, about to crush your very skull. What had you got yourself into this time? Three kings, three charming kings, each so wonderful and wondrous in their own way, and somehow you were stuck in the middle of it all and toying not only with them but yourself, knowing fully well that there was no future for any of it, no matter a decision or none. You couldn’t rule a kingdom even if their interest were to be serious, and certainly you could not rule three. You pushed yourself out of your chair, ignoring completely the pairs of eyes that bore into yours.

“Excuse me”, you said through gritted teeth, dragging your gaze to the ground and, just to busy yourself, pulling the cloth you used as a hair tie from your wrist and prodding your mane with it, trying to make it into some kind of presentable bun while taking three steps collectively before you were stopped.

“I- We will not.” Thorin blocked your path with an arm to your waist, and you looked at him despite yourself, instinct taking over. All of this was shit. All of it was hell, and you had run right into the arms of trouble once again, just as you had always done, your whole life. For once you were happy, and after all it was just an illusion anyway, just a moment, something with only present and neither past nor future. It was definitely the wrong decision to lift your gaze though, because the second you saw the expression on the dwarf’s face, you were inclined to either throw yourself into his arms or off a balcony. Never before had anyone looked at you with as much care, as much tenderness and worry as these three kings did, and you could not keep it, not a single one of them. Though at this point you were not sure if you could and if you even wanted to decide if you had to, which you would not, because this thing was nothing but the blink of an eye for them, nothing serious, even if it was real.

“You will tell us what is wrong”, Thranduil demanded, though... it was as much order as it was plea. A king speaking and a lover asking. Perhaps the throwing off a balcony idea was one you could actually make use of. It took all your willpower, all your concentration and determination, but you turned around slowly, did not whisk and jump over. the table and neither did you cry. You would not. This was work for you, negotiations for them... they were kings, you would not behave like a two year old in front of them, though you felt like one. And you knew just as well that you would crawl before them and beg if it came down to it, the stars knew for what.

Thranduil's lips were a thin line, his stare as icy as it was soft, and you could not even bring yourself to wish you had never come to this war, because... as stupid as it was, you were more, far more than happy that for once there was someone who cared, that there was someone you did not mind being just yourself around, who teased and joked and still accepted all that you were. It was not your and not their fault that they were kings.

“I’ve had a bad morning”, you repeated again, and indeed it was true- just not the whole truth now. Though the elf’s gaze softened, and Thorin to your left grabbed for your hand and gave it a light squeeze in reassurance - which was so unbelievably unusual in itself that you had to look down at your intertwined hands and brush your thumb over his skin in amazement. Thranduil did scoff this time, but the way your face lit up made up for it. He watched, not without the hint of a smile, your eyes widen and some of the life returning to your cheeks. Some of the heat, too. You hid it well normally, but never good enough, always just so much that they all still noticed it, and now that you made no point at all trying to conceal it, he found himself enamoured by it, wishing that it was him and not the dwarf who caused it, but content regardless, and promising himself that he would have you blush far more often in the future.

“But it is more than that.” You turned around once again to look at Bard, brushing a strand of hair out of your eyes that had fallen from your bun. You nodded, perhaps more gravely than before, which had Thorin strengthening his grip on your hand. Like a desperate man, you thought, and it brought a bit of a smile back to your face, if only for a second. Who cared that these men were king? Who cared that they had a crown and a title? Who cared? For in this moment, you decided that you did not. And it was a burden that fell from your shoulders, one that you had only subconsciously acknowledged, one that you’d ignored the way you’d ignored all that was too far from the topic of war and negotiation. They were here, they were right here right now with you, and there lay fondness and genuine interest in all their gazes, and everyone could go to hell if you could not savour that. If this were to end in heartbreak, then so it be, and as long as it did not, you would enjoy the present that this one was. Enjoy the interest of not one, but three kings, in such a person as you, of no name and no influence, with no promises and no obligations.

“Perhaps”, you said, and the corners of your lips tugged up. How ridiculous everything was, and how little you were to care for it. “Or perhaps not anymore.”

#thorin x reader #thranduil x reader #bard x reader #bard #thranduil #thorin #thorin oakenshield #thranduil oneshot #bard oneshot #thorin oneshot #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin oakenshield oneshot #the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit fanfiction #christmas #for christmas

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somewhatgreatexpectations · 3 years

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Writing’s On The Wall (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello, again! We’ve finally reached... Civil War! Loosely inspired by Sam Smith’s “Writing’s On The Wall”. Some of the actual dialogue from the film is used here with some adjustments. Let me know what you think.

Summary: How the reader and Wanda are involved in the events of Civil War. Will they be on the same side? Or will they have to fight each other?

“I want to feel love, run through my blood, tell me is this where I give it all up? For you I have to risk it all, 'cause the writing's on the wall”

Half a year had passed since you left the comfort of the Avengers tower and the path to healing had never felt more manageable. You should have known that wouldn’t last. Peace never seemed to last around you.

You didn’t know what to expect when Fury called you out of the blue and told you to turn on the news, but it was certainly not what you saw. A quiet curse escaped your lips as you watched the news of what happened in Lagos play out before you.

For at least an hour you listened to them completely annihilate Wanda’s character and talk about her like she was a monster who couldn’t be controlled. A threat. That couldn’t have been further from the truth. She made a mistake – she was trying to help. You could only imagine how she was feeling.

The news continued to pile on the next couple of days which is when you caught wind of the Sokovian accords. The information being relayed to you in the form of a demand from one Tony Stark who said you needed to sign since you were technically still an Avenger. You told him you would need time to think about it because the fact of the matter was, you didn’t agree with it. Not that you actually told him the second part.

Shortly after your phone call with Stark, Steve also reached out. Though he was reluctant to have to ask you for help when he knew what he would be dragging you back into. You agreed within seconds. Not only was it what was right, but Steve was your first lifeline. You’d always offer him help. You’d always stand by him. You had made a promise. That’s just who you were.

Due to some loose ends, you were the last to arrive at the parking garage Steve had designated as the meeting location.

The sight of Wanda before you after all this time shocked you and rendered you immobile for a moment.

As if she could sense your presence, she looked over and made eye contact with you, her eyes widening ever so slightly. You shook your head, you had healed – moved on. She wasn’t your focus anymore. The look in her eyes stuck with you though, it was something you had never seen before. You could feel her eyes follow you. Even after all this time, it slightly hurt you still.

Wanda, on the other hand, felt breathless at the sight of you. The one she thought she’d never get to see again. She could feel her heart beating so hard in her chest she was sure everyone in the area could hear it. It took everything in her not to run over to you, take you in her arms and never let go. Even after all this time, she missed you still.

“Cap, what have you gotten yourself into now?” you questioned playfully, smiling brightly when Steve turned to look at you.

Despite the circumstance, Steve was genuinely glad to see you, to physically see how much better you looked after your time away rather than just hear it in a phone call. “Y/n. I hate how this is how we’re being reunited but it’s good to see you.” He pulled you into a tight embrace which you gladly returned.

For the first time in her life, Wanda envied Steve Rogers.

When he released you, Steve turned and addressed everyone else. “Alright everyone, go and get ready. Time is of the essence… And I can’t imagine they’re going to let us go easily.”

Before you could walk away, Steve threw a duffle bag at you with a wink before he walked off to put on his suit. You looked into the bag and noticed a sleek black outfit with blue and white accents. New gear, you thought to yourself, nice.

“Hi, Y/n.” you heard an all too familiar voice say softly from behind you.

With only slight hesitation, you turned. “Hello, Wanda.” You greeted neutrally, proud of yourself for not feeling as broken as you once did at the mere sight of her.

Wanda smiled slightly at you, her nerves at an all-time high from being this close to you once again. “I’m surprised to see you here. You look… good.” She said shyly.

An amused smile spread over your lips. “Thanks. I thought I told you I’d always be on your side.” You said with a wink. The referenced conversation felt as though it had happened in another life.

A pink hue covered her cheeks which you took note of curiously. “I’m actually glad you are.” She admitted honestly. “I’ve had a lot of time to think these last few months and it’s made me realize that I-“

“I’m genuinely sorry to do this, ladies, but we’ve really got to go.” Steve interrupted. Looking apologetically at Wanda who appeared disheartened.

You waved your hand dismissively. Allowing yourself to get invested in even just a conversation with Wanda wasn’t something you’d allow yourself. “Not an issue at all, Cap.” You replied lightly, pretending you didn’t see the way Wanda’s looked down dejectedly. In that moment you wished you didn’t know her so well.

Once you were all gathered, Steve separated you all into teams that would be spread throughout the airport, Clint and Wanda would be together, Sam would stay with Bucky and you would be with Steve. Scott would be waiting in hiding for when the perfect opportunity presented itself. Without knowing all the variables, it was difficult to form a perfect plan, but you all worked with what you had. Once that was settled, it was time to get into position.

“Y/n.” Wanda took hold of your hand as you were turning to leave. “Do you think we could finish that conversation later, whenever that may be?” She asked hopefully. You took note of how she was holding her breath.

“Sure, Wanda.” You eventually replied, watching the way she breathed out graciously. “I’ve got to get into position now though, Steve is already out there.”

Wanda lightly squeezed the hand that you hadn’t realized she was still holding. Awkwardly, you pulled it away. A short look of disappointed flashed across her features. “Be careful out there, okay?”

“You too.” You replied neutrally, this conversation was veering into dangerous territory. With one final nod you took off in a sprint to get into position, not seeing the way Wanda stayed behind for a moment.

Even just the minor action made her aware of the fact that you’d changed, you used to always look back. She looked at your retreating figure with worried eyes until it disappeared from sight.

Almost as soon as you got into position, you could hear Sam begin calling you over the coms. “Y/n, go out to Steve, give them some numbers. Remember your points and the mission.”

“Haven’t been out of the game that long, Wilson.” You replied with an eye roll before heading out to where Steve was trapped.

The end of Tony’s speech caught your attention. “… in Clint, rescuing Wanda from a place she doesn’t even want to leave, a safe place-“ His words halted as you came to a stop by Steve’s side.

For a moment Tony just looked between you and Steve, obviously surprised to see you there. “And you brought the kid back into the chaos for this? To make her a criminal? Real nice, Rogers.” Tony quipped angrily.

Steve opened his mouth to respond when you beat him to it. “I can speak for myself, thanks. Hi Tony, good to see you again.” You matched his sarcasm with a mocking wave of your fingers. “If it means I can fight for what’s right then I’ll gladly join the fray again.”

“You heard her.” Steve replied with a small chuckle.

Wanda couldn’t help but watch you with a small smile of admiration from her position. She truly missed being able to see this version of you. Always determined to do what was right. Clint shook his head in amusement at her but didn’t say anything.

From your place you could see Tony’s frustration grow as he addressed Steve again. “I’m trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart.”

“You did that when you signed.” Steve replied coolly.

Tony looked away before looking back at Steve, his anger more present. “Alright, we’re done. You’re going to turn Barnes over and you’re going to come with us. Now. Because it’s us.” He paused slightly. “C’mon…” he added, and you almost felt bad for Tony.

Over your coms you could hear Sam let you both know that he had found the quinjet. That’s when chaos ensued. Your focus was keeping Rhodey back from Steve when you saw Tony begin shooting at Wanda and Clint, with a flick of your wrist Rhodey sunk into the floor, completely encased in the concrete that was once flat underneath his feet.

The sound of his suit slowly chipping away at the defense let you know that it wasn’t too damaging as you began running towards Tony, using your powers to propel you forward. That was until a truck got thrown right in your path and exploded mere inches from you. You ducked and rolled, jumping back up. “C’mon.” you mumbled to yourself. Noticing the red wisps that surrounded you during the explosion.

You made eye contact with Wanda, who’s eyes were worried as she lowered her hands, the red wisps that were lingering around you fading. You nodded in thanks, Wanda just quirked her lips up and nodded back.

“Sorry!” Scott said sheepishly to you over coms.

You refocused and noticed the path to the quinjet clear for you all, each of you sprinting in its direction.

The quinjet was quickly approaching as each of you sped up even more until a beam of light cut into the ground before you, effectively stopping you all in your tracks.

“For the collective good, you must surrender now.” Vision said, his eyes on Wanda whose expression never changed. Each member of Tony’s team formed a defensive line in front of the jet.

Both sides were in a stand-off, and it was obvious neither was willing to back down. “What do we do, Cap?” you questioned.

“We fight.” Steve said without a moment of hesitation, determination clear in his eyes as he began running forward. Everyone else followed suit, both teams clashing in the middle.

The scene was so frenzied, and your focus was on fighting Tony with your powers that it wasn’t until Sam spoke over coms that you focused in again. You easily agreed with the plan that not all of you could make it out. It had to be Steve and Bucky.

The sound of Wanda’s scream distracted you, thankfully Scott had also distracted Tony just in time.

“Wanda!” You shouted on reflex already beginning to run over when you saw her fall to the floor, clutching her head. You were able to catch the building that was falling on Steve and Bucky with your powers for a moment before allowing it to crash down behind them.

When you turned your attention back to Wanda, you noticed Vision come to a stop beside her and take her in his arms. The conversation between them looked intimate. She looked up from her place in his arms for a moment and met your eyes. Her eyes looked as though they were trying to convey something to you when they had suddenly gone wide as you felt a strong force make contact with your head then everything went black.

When you finally came to your head felt groggy and achy, the way it did when Hydra used to run experiments on you. You tried to lift a hand to rub at your head when you noticed resistance and something cool around your neck. Out of confusion, your eyes shot open only to feel anxiety seep into your bones when you took note of the straight jacket that you were confined in and the collar locked uncomfortably around your neck.

“Hello?” you called, hating the way fear crept into your voice.

“Y/n. You’re awake.” You heard Wanda respond, relief obvious in her voice. You looked around for a moment trying to locate her voice when you finally noticed her across a brightly lit circular sort of area, in her own straight jacket and collar. Her eyes that were so bright before the battle now dull.

Fruitlessly you tried to use your powers to manipulate the walls of the cell to no avail. “Where are we?”

“They call it the raft.” You heard Clint’s bitter voice float through the walls. “We’re criminals now.”

The anxiety you felt began to overwhelm you as flashes of being tied up in a similar manner and watching someone you loved be harmed went through your mind. “How long have we been here?”

“Three days,” Wanda began hesitantly almost as if she wasn’t sure if she wanted to tell you more.

Clint interrupted her. “They’ve been knocking you out each time you come to, even for a second. First, they doped you up. The last time they just hit you. They’re not big fans of Steve over here, you’re the closest they could get to him.” Anger was clear in his words.

You thought you heard him mumble something about putting Wanda directly across from you, so she’d be forced to watch.

Wanda looked resigned with purple bruising under her eyes. You were hesitant to ask. “What happened to you?” she shook her head.

Thankfully Sam answered for her. “They’re not big fans of her either. The one good thing Tony did was stop what they were doing to both of you.”

Before you could ask anything else, the sound of the door opening caught your attention, all of your attention it seemed. A moment later, Steve walked in, a relieved smile on his face as he took in each of you.

“About time.” Sam said gruffly.

Without hesitation Steve began taking you each out of your cell and loaded onto the jet he had waiting.

You were watching the prison shrink in the distance from the safety of the quinjet when you felt someone take a seat next to you. You didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“Do you think we can have that talk now?”

Part 8! Don’t worry there’s more to come, I’m just releasing one title ahead at a time. This part was semi-difficult to write because I didn’t want to add too much of the fight scene because then it would be extremely long and this was more of a set-up chapter for Wanda and the readers story. To establish where they are after separating and bring them back into each others lives. Anyway, as always, hope you all enjoyed! Comments and thoughts always welcome. :) (bonus points if you can tell me what part was referenced in this chapter ;)

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mermaidxatxheart · 3 years

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Better Together Chapter 6

ok, I know it's been a while. I'm sorry for the long time in between posts. I'm working on several stories at once, or at least trying to, while also trying to get accustomed to a promotion and new job responsibilities at work. Thanks to everyone who's stuck with me. I really appreciate you all. My work is no to be reposted anywhere without my permission.

Pairing: Poe Dameron X Reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: Violence, panic, Poe being soft, Bryce being a dick. I think we can just assume that will be a permanent tag.

Series Master List

Chapter Five

You try to sit up with a strangled scream, but you end up bouncing your head off the plastic dome monitoring your vitals.

“Hey, it’s okay.” A voice to your left says. The voice is… familiar, but it’s not the one you really wanted to hear. But at the same time, you’re grateful you don’t hear that voice.

You roll your head to see Bryce, your boyfriend. He’s your boyfriend. He won’t hurt you. You can relax.

Why aren’t you relaxing?

“You’re safe now. Back home where you belong.” He says gently, reaching for your hand. You flinch away and he frowns, pausing.

“S-sorry.” You rasp, closing your eyes.

“It’s cool.” He lifts the dome and moves to get your clothes at the foot of the table. “Come on. Get dressed, we’ll get you something to eat.” He says, setting them next to you.

You try to speak again, but your voice is just as rough, only this time you don’t know if it’s from being quiet for so long, or the raw emotions destroying you. You clear your throat painfully. “H-how’s Poe?” You ask, nearly stuttering over his name.

“Dameron is fine. Been annoying all the women ever since he got back.” Bryce rolls his eyes. He doesn’t catch the way you shrink in on yourself as you sit up.

So, Poe doesn’t...want to...see you. The words struggle in your mind. He’s… he’s probably trying to forget what you did to him. No wonder he doesn’t want to see you.

“Can you step outside so I can get dressed?” You ask quietly.

“Babe, it’s not like I haven’t seen it before.” He says and you lower your head. “Fine. Just, don’t take too long. I’m starving.” He says, walking out and shutting the door loudly behind you. You jump at the sudden snap of it and squeeze your eyes shut.

You can’t handle the commissary right now. It’s always packed full of people, loud, claustrophobic. You carefully get dressed, trying not to notice all the new marks on your body. You’re careful of the fresh stitches covering your arms, legs, stomach, and back. Careful not to pull the bandages holding you together.

You’re dressed faster than you want to be, stepping carefully out of the room. It still doesn’t feel safe, it feels like you should be hiding. You tug the long sleeves down further, wishing you had more to cover you.

“Come on.” He slings his arm around your shoulders and you tense as the weight settles on you. “I missed you.” He says softly, but you don’t feel comforted by his words. They turn to ice in your veins. He practically has to drag you along, your nerves stretching and spiking with each step, with every noise.

“I-I’m not hungry.” You protest, trying to dig your heels in. You can hear the loud room from here.

“Y/N, you have to eat.” He says firmly.

“N-n—“ you stammer, trying to push away from him. He sighs and scoops you up over his shoulder, carrying you along easily. Pain flares through you as your stitches pull. He’s not careful with you. Either he doesn’t know, or he doesn’t care. You try to struggle, you don’t care if he drops you. At least then you could get away.

“Y/N, I swear to the Maker, stop struggling. These are your friends. They want to know you’re okay.”

“What if I’m not?” You snap, the fear boiling over. You want to go to your room. You want to hide. You want to be alone. You want Poe.

He stops and considers for a minute before continuing on. “You can’t hide forever, Y/N.”

“Bryce, please, please!”

He walks inside and sets you down none too gently in a chair at a table full of people. “Look who’s finally awake.” He says loudly. Your teeth jar, biting down on your tongue from the abrupt impact.

There are five whole heartbeats where everyone is just staring at you. Something claws its way up your throat in the eerie silence, and then everything just explodes.

Voices, chairs moving, hands touching you, patting you on the shoulder, or touching your leg. The lights get too bright, you can’t see anything. You feel like they’re all climbing on top of you, too much weight. You can’t breathe. You try to suck in a breath, but it’s like your lungs won’t expand.

You bolt.

You’re not proud of it, but you shove through all the people and fly for the door. Blind twists and turns down hallways you don’t remember seeing, and couldn’t remember in the moment. You can barely hear your name being shouted behind you, but you can’t stop, can’t look back. You just know you’ve ripped stitches in your thighs, and stomach. You don’t care. Your only thought is escape. Hyper flight mode.

A hand grabs you from the darkness, pulling you in and pinning you against the wall. You fight, slapping and hitting against your assailant as you sob, gasping raggedly.

“Y/N! It’s me, stop it!!” Poe shouts, grabbing your wrists. “It’s Poe, it’s me. Stop.” He says, holding your hands against his chest until you stop fighting him.

You think you gasp his name, your legs give out on you and you sink to your knees in front of him, sobbing. He doesn’t let go of your wrists, just loosens his grip. Relief washes through you as you realize who it is.

“Breathe. Just breathe. Big, slow breaths for me, sweetheart.” He whispers, slowly kneeling in front of you.

“P-Poe—“

“I know. Sh, it’s okay. I’m right here.” He wraps his arms around you tightly, hugging you to him.

He shouldn’t be doing this for you, not after everything you put him through. Guilt roils through you, choking off your air. You start to pull away but he doesn’t let go. His fingers braid in your disheveled hair and you can’t help but sink into him a little more.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up. I wanted to be.” He exhales in a rush, burying his face in your hair.

“Why—why would you want that?” You hiccup, keeping your face away from him.

“Because you’re my best friend? Why would you think I wouldn’t want to be there?”

“B-because,” you try taking a deep breath.

He seems to realize that you’re shivering on the cold ground. “Let’s get out of here. Do you wanna go back to medbay or your room?” He asks, easing you out of his arms and standing up.

You hesitate, suddenly not knowing how to ask him to stay. It’s selfish, you know it is, after everything you’ve put him through, to want him to suffer even longer.

“I don’t think I was actually discharged.” You mumble, pulling yourself to your feet on your own. It’s a massive effort.

He makes a noise in the back of his throat and steps to the door. He looks up and down the hallway before looking back at you. “It’s all clear.”

“I don’t even know what part of the complex I’m in.” You admit, dropping your head back. In the forest, you knew exactly where to go. But on a planet you’ve called home for how long? You’re lost.

Useless.

“Okay. Come on.” He holds out his hand and you’re so tempted to take it. But you don’t. Instead, you walk to the door with him and carefully slip out without touching him. You’ve done enough damage.

He follows after a small minute and leads you down the hallway. “You never answered my question.” He starts suddenly and you look up at him. His face has too many cuts, a deep bruise under his eye, a split lip. It hurts you to look at him. More guilt.

It’s your fault.

You could pretend to be ignorant. Not remember the question to stall for time. Claim sudden hearing loss. But you never could lie to him, and you don’t want to start now. You know exactly what question.

“I didn’t think you would want to be there. Not when this whole thing is my fa-fault.” You mumble, your voice cracking on the last word. You hate yourself for putting him through this. You hate yourself for feeling like a damsel in distress and not being able to fight back the way you should have.

He stops walking and stares at you. His forehead crinkled in confusion.

“You think—“ he starts, his voice incredulous, but is promptly cut off by a medical droid beeping angrily at you.

“Yeah, got it. Back to bed.” You mumble, taking one last look at a stunned Poe before following the droid the rest of the way.

The droid gets you back into a medical bed, looking almost as if it wants to restrain you to keep you there. You clutch your hands to your chest, not wanting to be restrained.

“I won’t go anywhere.” You promise. The droid beeps and rolls away, the door sliding shut behind it. You cross your legs and lay back, wincing at the pull in your ribs. On the list of things that hurt, the ribs are kind of low. But they’re drawing the most attention at the moment. The droid comes back after a moment, making quick work of fixing your stitches, hopefully for the last time. It rolls away and you’re left in agonizing silence. You stare at the ceiling, counting the cracks.

The door opens again and Leia walks in. You freeze, wondering what she could possibly want from you. Poe’s words flash through your mind. Do you think Leia is sobbing uncontrollably right now? She certainly looks tired, but not necessarily like she was heartbroken that you were gone for… for… you can’t remember how long you were in that place. You break out into a sweat. What else have you forgotten?

“Y/N,” she starts solemnly. “I’m so glad you’re back with us and awake.” She sits on the edge of your bed and you don’t know if this is protocol or not. Is it normal? You don’t say anything, you simply wait for her to continue, she’ll get to her point eventually. “Poe told me about what happened, I’d like your report as well, whenever you feel up to it. I know you must still be exhausted.” She says.

So, all business.

She probably didn’t even notice you weren’t there.

You nod once. You can be all business, too. “I’ll have it for you by tomorrow.” You say and she blinks.

“I didn’t mean—“

“You need it. You’ll have it.”

“Poe told me you were incredibly brave.” She says, watching your face as she speaks. She’s clearly looking for something.

“He—“ you cut off. You had been about to say that he exaggerates, or was lying. But then she would think that she can’t trust her most loyal commander. She slowly arches an eyebrow as you struggle to think. “He’s too kind. I was terrified. Did more harm than good.”

“Hmm. Well, in any case. I know you’re still healing. Bacta is useful, but it can’t heal everything overnight. Get some rest.” She stands up. “And,” she pauses and turns back to you. “If you need to talk, about anything at all, I’m here to listen.” She says pointedly. You nod once and she heads for the door, stopping only long enough for it to hiss open.

You slump back against the pillows, gritting your teeth against the sudden pain. It’s odd how sometimes you don’t feel it at all, and other times it’s all you can feel. You feel like you’ve been going nonstop for days and days. You need to think, to rest. You need to stand up to Bryce next time. You’re not just a scientist, you’re a damn good pilot-only second to Poe, and you’re one of the best shots on base. He can’t just push you around like he did.

You need to think, sort out what was real and what was panic. You close your eyes and try to hold as still as possible. The faces are the faces of your friends, this isn’t some First Order trick. They aren’t trying to hurt you.

But… then… Why was Poe shouting when he got off the ship? Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Maybe you really are losing your mind.

The door hisses open and you jerk upright, instantly grabbing your side. Bryce tosses his jacket onto the chair next to your bed and crosses his arms, turning slowly to glare at you.

“Was that fun for you? You made me look like an idiot out there.” He snaps and you want to hurl something heavy at his head.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now. I’m tired.” You say, wishing there was a more final way to say that, like shutting a door in his face.

“You just slept for three days!” He shouts, throwing his hands up.

“Get. Out!” You shove yourself off your bed, ignoring the screaming pain in your ribs and back. “Get the fucking fuck out! I told you I wasn’t kriffing ready but you didn’t fucking listen. You never fucking listen! I just want some peace. Maker!” You shove him backwards through the door, bouncing it off its track. You feel the pop in your wrist, burning hot pain flares up your arm. “For once in your life, try to see things from someone else’s perspective.” You snap, going back into your room.

“Whoa, hey. I’m sorry, okay?”

You pick up the heavy decoration on the side table and throw it as hard as you can. If he hadn’t moved his stupidly perfect head, it would have hit him right in the face. Unfortunately, he does move and it crashes into the floor behind him, breaking into pieces. Good, more ammo for next time.

“I don’t want to hear your apologies! I want. To be. Alone!”

He holds up his hands and backs down the hallway. You walk around to the other side of the bed, sinking to the floor so that no one will see you. Your hands are trembling as you try to breathe. Your sides begin to ache for another reason altogether, and you realize you aren’t even breathing because you’re trying not to cry.

You let out a ragged gasp, covering your face in humiliation. Rocking forward, you rest your face on the ground, letting yourself hurt with every silent sob. You deserve all the pain. A curious beep reaches your ears and you cover your mouth, forcing yourself to keep quiet. You know, somewhere in the back of your mind, you need to get your new injuries checked out. You definitely did damage to your wrist. You feel a droid roll to a stop next to you, but you're not under control yet.

They beep softly again and nudge you with their big round base. You lift your head to see the familiar orange and white pattern of Poe’s droid, BB8. He rotates his lens up to look at you, and somehow, despite being metal and made of parts, he shows sympathy, worry, concern. He wants to know if you’re okay, if his friend is okay. Your vision goes blurry as your eyes flood with tears all over and he rolls forward, nestling right against your chest. You grip his headpiece, lowering your forehead against it and resting there, shoulders shaking and stomach cramping from the uncomfortable position. But you can’t bring yourself to move just yet.

***

Your head slips to the side and you jerk up, hitting your head against the edge of your bed. BB8 looks up at you, bless his circuit board. He would have stayed there with you for hours if you hadn’t woken yourself up. You wipe your tears and drool off his head.

“Sorry, buddy.” You whisper, voice not wanting to go higher than that. “You should get back to Poe. I’m sure he’s looking for you.”

His head tilts, question unasked in the quiet air.

“I’ll be okay. Thank you, for checking on me, I mean.”

He beeps a rapid-fire and rolls away in search of his master, or is friend a better description at this point? You twist, pulling yourself up and seeing Bryce sitting on the floor in the hallway. His eyes are closed as he rests his head against the wall.

With a sigh, you page for a med droid to come in and check on you. You lay back on your bed, closing your eyes while you wait. You didn’t mean to fall asleep on the poor droid.

Your wrist is checked out and bound. Already on the edge of breaking, shoving your stupid boyfriend pushed it over the edge. The droid tsks about not getting it taken care of right away before wheeling away.

“Can I come in now?” Bryce asks from the hallway.

“No. I’m still mad.” You reply, rolling over. It’s cool in here, settling in your bones in an unfamiliar way. You reach towards the end of the bed for a blanket before you realize there isn’t one there. With a huff, you get up and look around for one with no success.

“What are you looking for?” He asks, pushing himself up with a quiet grunt.

“A blanket. I’m freezing.” You reply, digging through the supply locker in the room.

“I’ll go get you one.” He turns around and disappears, leaving you to settle back down. You can hear those familiar beeps coming down the hallway and that voice you’ve come to depend on since you were taken follows it.

“Yeah, buddy, I know. Always rubbing it in.” Poe sighs.

Bryce comes back, spreading a heavy blanket over you before stepping back awkwardly. “Thanks. I’m sure you have something you need to be doing, Bryce. I’ll be here.” You say, more gently this time and he presses a tender kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll come see you after my shift. We’ll talk then and you can yell at me all you want, okay?” He promises.

You nod, laying your head down on the pillow as he leaves. You can see his shoulders tense as he sees Poe coming towards him. You can hear the little droid beeping in outrage but Poe shushes him.

“Is she awake?” He asks.

“She’s resting. You shouldn’t be here, anyway. Haven’t you done enough, Dameron?” Bryce snaps.

What? No. He’s not to blame! You are!

“Bryce. Go to work.” You call and he looks over his shoulder at you, unable to get rid of the coldness completely before he turns on his heel and storms off.

Poe waits until he can’t see him anymore before coming into your room. “Hi.” He says after a minute and your lips twitch.

“Hi.”

“Have a good nap?” He asks as BB8 chirps next to him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep him here for so long.” You mumble.

Poe snorts. “He’s not sorry, bragged about it for at least ten minutes.” He rolls his eyes and you scoot over on the bed carefully. He eases himself down and takes your newly bandaged hand. “What happened?” He asks with a frown.

“I wasn’t careful. Typical me.” You scoff derisively.

He’s quiet for a long time, his handsome face going through a wide range of emotions as he traces the outline of your fingers. The feeling of it is relaxing, soothing you. Everything about him is comforting, just like he’s always been. Even though you don’t deserve his compassion, his forgiveness.

“Poe,” you start, capturing his hand, even though you could conceivably let him keep doing that forever.

“I have so many things I want to say to you.” He starts, his voice crumpled.

You take a deep breath and nod, steeling yourself for the inevitable. It’s going to hurt, it will break your heart, but he should say it. Tell you he hates you for kissing him, for distracting him, for getting him caught, and all the terrible things that came after it.

“You sa-said before that this is all your fault.” He starts, his eyes very firmly on your hands wrapped around his.

“Because it is.” You answer and his beautiful brown eyes squeeze shut.

“How can you even think that?” His voice cracks and you’ve never seen him so close to tears before. This is the man that’s perpetually in a good mood, everything is an opportunity to make you laugh. Even in the face of certain harm, he’s making jokes.

“Poe, I distracted you. I—“ you glance at the door to look for potential eavesdroppers. “In the river, I ki—“

He covers your mouth softly. You could easily pull his hand away, but you don’t. “We were on a planet where the most dangerous thing was supposed to be a giant butterfly. There was no way to know, no indication of anyone else being on the planet. You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.” He says. You can hear the sincerity in his voice, but you can’t stop the feeling that he’s wrong. You did everything wrong. “And… we don’t have to… to talk about that thing in the river… if you don’t want to.” He stammers, scratching at the back of his neck.

You want to. You want to do it again. But you can’t. Your fingers flex in his before pulling them back against your torso, cutting off all touch with his warm body.

“Leia came to see me earlier.” You change the subject without giving him an answer. You’re not ready to close the book yet, but you can’t open it yet, either.

“Yeah. I gave my debrief.” He says, sounding a little deflated.

“You lied.” You correct and his head snaps up.

“What?”

“You told her I was brave. That was a big, fat lie.” You say and he rolls his eyes.

“You’re impossible.” He takes your hand again. His touch is feather-light, soft, and delicate as he strokes the back of your hand, following the length of your fingers.

“I don’t think she cried.” You say suddenly and he looks up at you.

“Come again?”

“You asked if I thought Leia sobbed uncontrollably while we were gone. I don’t think she even got a stuffy nose.” Your voice turns dark, your secret angry thought slipping out before you can stop it.

“You think she didn’t care?” Poe asks.

“Did you find out how long we were gone?”

“Yeah. Three weeks.” He says, practically choking on it.

“Two weeks over what we were supposed to be gone. You don’t think that’s odd? She didn’t send anyone after her best pilot?”

“Y/N, she has a lot of different responsibilities, to more than just us. We had no contact with anyone prior. How would they have found us? They didn’t have our information yet. They would have been just as lost as we were.” He reasons.

“Ground exploration on a new planet should have more than two people. No matter how good one of them is.” You pull your hand back, angry now.

You don’t want to be angry, not with Poe, of all people. But you can’t stop yourself. He’s rolling over and playing lapdog for his perfect princess, same as he always does. Your cheeks burn with anger.

Hurt crosses his face, his hands suspended where they were. “Both. She sent two of her best people. She sent you, and me because we work so well together. Because we could get it done much faster, quieter, better than anyone else on this base.” He says and your heart wavers.

You don’t want to cause him any more pain. You take a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, I think I just need sleep.” The words sound stiff, forced.

“Do you want me to stay?” He asks, but you shake your head.

“No. I’m just gonna catch a few hours and then get to work on the report for Leia.”

“No, I already did that.” He corrects.

“She asked me for one.”

“I debriefed so you wouldn’t have to go through it again.” He clenches his hands. “I’ll take care of it.” He promises.

“I don’t mind. It might give her a better idea of what a rotten liar you are.” You say, trying to joke.

“I didn’t lie.” He huffs, leaning down and pressing the softest kiss to your forehead. “I’ll leave BB8 with you if you need anything. Come find me when you wake up?”

“Promise.” Your voice cracks at just the wrong moment and he stills, looking down at you.

“I can stay. Just like in the cave.” He offers.

“Go away.”

He gives your hand a gentle squeeze and stands up. “What happened to the door?” He asks.

“I shoved Bryce through it.” You admit and he breaks out into a grin.

“That’s my girl.” He praises before walking through it.

You have to stop yourself from calling him back, from begging him to stay with you. It’s not that you don’t trust anyone else here, they are your friends. But, Poe would understand. He knows what you went through, he understands what it was like. He won’t judge you for being upset. When you lost your temper with him just now, he didn’t get mad, he talked you down.

No, Poe Dameron understands better than anyone what emotions you’re going through right now. He goes through them on a daily basis and has for a long time.

***

You can’t look at him. Every time you do, another wave of guilt threatens to drown you. You kissed him. You kissed him. You have a boyfriend back home, missing you and you went and kissed your best friend. And worse, got said best friend captured by the enemy.

Now, he’s furious with you. Hasn’t said a word in hours. You can’t remember the last thing he said. Did he shush you? Was it your name? You can’t remember. Tears blur your vision as you try to twist your face away from him.

“Shit. Y/N,” he starts. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay. I’ll get us out of this.” He promises.

And just the fact that he thinks that’s what you’re upset about is blindingly frustrating. And that he feels the need to fix your fuck up.

“Why don’t they just kill us?” You ask, forcing the tears not to fall.

“They probably want information on the Resistance.” He clenches his jaw. “Y/N, I never wanted to have to say this to you, but no matter what they do to you, you can’t talk. You can’t tell them anything.” He pleads.

You nod. “Okay. I won’t say anything.” You promise weakly. The idea of being tortured is so out of your realm, you don’t know what to expect. But Poe seems to know something at the very least.

He curses again and you look back at his face. “I promise. I promise I’ll get us out of this.” He thrashes against the metal restraints on the upright table and you worry he’s going to hurt himself.

“I’ll be okay, Poe.” You whisper, but he squeezes his eyes shut.

The door behind you opens and a StormTrooper walks in. You can’t tell if it’s one of the same ones from the forest, but it doesn’t matter. This one is carrying a tray with a cloth covering it.

“Ready to begin?” He asks, voice modulated to fit your nightmares. “Where is your base of rebel scum?” He asks, slowly removing the cloth and picking up a thin blade. He turns towards Poe, sliding the knife under the silver chain around your partner’s neck. His mother’s ring, beautiful as it glints in the light, slowly rotates into view. Poe struggles slightly, giving his restraints another hard yank, but he gets nowhere. The stormtrooper curls his fingers around it, tugging and popping the chain free. He tosses it into the dank corner and it disappears from view. Poe snarls until the trooper lifts the glittering knife again and turns his helmet towards you. You can feel him studying you, sizing you up.

“I said, where is your base of rebel scum?”

Poe looks over at you, and you can see the worry in his eyes. Will he start with you? Or with Poe? When neither of you answers, he turns and slashes out at your best friend. You cry out, thinking he cut his throat, but instead, there’s a small cut on his cheekbone.

“I haven’t got anywhere to be. Let’s begin again.” He says evenly and your stomach clenches uncomfortably.

***

You sit up with a ragged gasp, clutching at your face. Blindly, you find the medical droid and sign yourself out, grabbing the blanket and heading through the halls for the one person you want to see. BB8 rolls after you, chirping quietly. You feel for the chain in your pocket, the weight of it is comforting.

You knock quietly on the door. It’s so late, you shouldn’t be here. The door slides open and he's there in front of you, exhausted and very much alive. He holds out his arms and you step easily into them, heartbeat finally settling.

Poe.

He walks you back inside and lays down on his bed without a single word. No teasing, no jokes. Just him being there for you like always. You wait until he’s comfortable before crawling into bed next to him and laying down, your head resting against his chest.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble.

“Sh. Go to sleep. I’m here.” He says gently, his big, warm hands rubbing your back.

Chapter 7

Everything Tag List:

@everythingisoverrated @psyched2b @shreddedparchment @bitsandbobsandstuff @after-avenging-hours @alexblrus @thinkingsofamadwoman @i-dont-want-to-be-called @thefridgeismybestie @fortheloveofallthatsholy @crazychaotic @pleasureoftheguiltiestvariety @redstarstan @justreadingfics @themistsofmyavalon @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @wkemeup @thiccbinch @glide-thru @elliee1497 @ellaenchanted91 @part-time-patronus @janeyboo @scarlettwitcher @thirstybitchqueen @stuckonjbbarnes @barnesandco @geeksareunique @nicoleplacee @lexshead @gambitsqueen @lokisironthrone @imanuglywombat @also-fangirlinsweden @ravenesque @murdermornings @countryrockmama @starbuckie @kato-ptris @mandos-crest

Star Wars Tag List:

@bookishofalder @doctor-warthrop @acrossthesestars @waterpancakeao3 @generousrunawaydonut @eclipsedplanet @general-latino @marvelobsessiononastick @itsdameron @mads-weasley

#star wars angst #star wars fanfiction #starwars #star wars #fan fiction #poe fanfiction #poe dameron #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron angst #poe dameron fic #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron x reader #poe x you #poe x reader #reader insert #reader fanfiction #poe x y/n #mermaidxatxheart-writes #better together

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rainbowintheskyf1 · 3 years

Text

After reccing Simi fic of other writers, I thought it’d be nice to reflect on some of my own. I compiled a list with 6 of my favorite Simi fic that I’ve written and give a bit of background for anyone interested.

the sounds you make (E)

The first Simi fic I ever wrote. I was still very new to writing and very new to Simi when this idea suddenly popped up and just begged me to be written. I wrote it in one sitting, not planning to post it, just needing to get the words out. When I was done and didn’t completely hate it, I posted it on a whim, then suddenly got very nervous and was this 🤏 close to deleting it. But then kudos started flooding in, even got some comments and I was all omg people like what I write?!?! It was very hard to believe at first, but the fact that my first story was received so well encouraged me to continue.

carry me home and the other stories in the time travel series (E)

My first try at a longer story with an actual plot and my most successful story to date. I remember having this idea for some time, but I didn’t think I could pull it off. I was just a simple writer for short pwp stories, surely I couldn’t write an actual story packed full of emotions and plot? @sewismi-agenda gently encouraged me to just try and see what would happen and low and behold, my words flowed and I spent my Christmas in this universe. It was a very special experience and the response to it was overwhelming. 🥺

nowhere to run (M)

Another one close to my heart. This may actually be my favorite story that I’ve written. I always wanted to write an adventurous story like that but like with carry me home, I didn’t think I would ever be able to. However, when I read this back, I am amazed that little old me wrote this. Just really fucking proud of it, ok? 😂 Also this story is the example that it doesn’t have to have a million kudos in order for me to feel validated as a writer, because while it didn’t perform that well kudo-wise compared to my other stories, it did get some wonderful comments. Still contemplating going back to this universe and add a chapter with their first date. Might as well go for it during my summer break.

got my mind set on you (E)

This story I didn’t want to write at first, lol. After carry me home, people wanted to see the roles reversed but I just couldn’t see how. Thanks to some little help from my friends (you know who you are) it grew into somewhat of plot that I quickly grew to be very inspired to write. I mean... in charge, capable, mechanic!Seb combined with a bratty, partying, young!Kimi is the recipe of explosiveness right there.

finders keepers (E)

My first dab into AU territory and a medium longer fic. I don’t even remember how this happened, I just know that I keep forgetting that I wrote this but that @sewismi-agenda really loves it, so that’s why it’s in this list. 😂 Just a silly little story about Kimi losing his wallet, Seb finding it and falling in love with his ID picture.

come together (E)

This was the first story that wasn’t completely finished yet when I posted it. Nerve wrecking! The idea came from being fed up with my own neighbors but not having the guts to complain. Poor Kimi in this story had to deal with a lot of my projections and emotional damage, lol. But I really love how this story turned out to be and I loved the interactions with readers who returned for each chapter.

If you have any questions/asks about my stories or writing, you’re free to do so! I’d love the interaction 💕

#simiday2021 #0507simiday2021 #simi fic #simi #f1 #sebastian vettel #my fic #ao3 #f1 fic #kimi raikkonen #mine-post

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lloydskywalkers · 3 years

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Heyo! Hope your doing exceptionally well, wonderful and ur staying safe! I was reading ur little oneshots for the movie! Verse and instantly fell in love! Think u have anymore for Kai and Lloyd? (But u don’t need to listen to this, obviously hehe) Have a splendid day!

ahhH thank you, I hope you’re doing well too!! :D oh man it’s been so long since i’ve written something for movie-verse, but I’ve had this little snippet in my head for a while so I guess it’s as good a time as any (and it is, of course, about kai and lloyd bc when is it noT)

it’s a little different than what i usually write, for movie-verse? but i hope it fits the bill! (takes place pre-movie, btw)

Of all his friends, Lloyd thinks Kai is most like the sun. Not just for his codename, and the enthusiasm with which he brings fire to the team, metaphorically and far too often literally, but for how bright he is. Kai reminds Lloyd of the sun at full force, strong and blazing and staunchly refusing to let anyone hide from his warmth. An endlessly combusting ball of stubbornness and passion.

Kai also reminds Lloyd of the sun in the way that he possesses about the same amount of brain cells the sun does, which is zero, because the sun has no brain — much like Kai.

“Hey, ru—de, ow, stop—”

Kai’s petulant response strangles off in cracked pain as Lloyd hushes him, simultaneously pulling the alcohol-soaked cloth from his arm with a sympathetic wince.

“Sorry, sorry,” Lloyd murmurs, wringing the edge of the cloth. “But I’ve gotta — it’ll get infected, if you don’t—”

“Nah, s’okay,” Kai says, breath hissing out through clenched teeth. He gives Lloyd a wavering smile that could almost be encouraging, were he not bleeding over Lloyd’s faded bedspread. “Just caught me off guard, I’m good now. ‘Sides, the — the stitches are gonna be worse, so—”

“It won’t be that bad,” Lloyd promises him, cleaning the rest of the deep slashes that run across Kai’s arm as quickly as he can. The lower ones aren’t so bad — he could get away without stitches, maybe. It’s the uppermost one that scares Lloyd, cutting deep enough into Kai’s skin to pose a threat. And Lloyd has no intention of leaving Kai anywhere near in danger, especially with the reason he’s hurt in the first place.

Lloyd swallows against the thick lump that suddenly forms in his throat, trying to banish the flood of emotions that have been rising since the battle against his father’s forces earlier. Surprise, shock, gratitude—? A swirling maelstrom of a deep-seated kind of aching warmth Lloyd is utterly unfamiliar with. It leaves him off-kilter, and words don’t come easily as they usually do.

Not that words ever come easily to Lloyd, but normally he isn’t quite this stuttering. Maybe. He hopes not. Maybe he’s just hyperaware right now, after everything, and he always sounds this embarrassing.

“I promise,” Lloyd continues, yanking himself from his thoughts as he busies with the needle. “I’ve got a lot of experience, and I’ll be gentle.”

Kai watches Lloyd threading the needle with a thinly-veiled fear, but he nods, the bravado Lloyd’s more familiar with making its way across his face. “Nice,” he says. “I trust you, Dr. Lloyd.”

Lloyd’s hands falter with the needle for a moment, before he resumes sterilizing it, ducking his head. Kai sounds like he means it — Kai sounds like he means everything he says, but the way he says trust hits differently, for Lloyd.

They’ve only been a team for few months, now. Not very long at all, to form any kind of trust in the son of your greatest enemy. Lloyd’s been going to school with some of the same people since kindergarten, and they’ve never looked at him with anything kinder than hatred, much less trust. And yet Kai is here, offering him his bleeding arm in Lloyd’s tiny room, trusting him to repair the damage he only took because he was protecting Lloyd.

Lloyd doesn’t understand. He doesn’t — people don’t — but his team—

They listened to him. Actually listened to him, to Lloyd. They actually listen to him in general, have since they were all thrown together in this odd little grouping, but it hasn’t quite hit home in the way it did tonight, when he’d snapped orders at them in barely-restrained panic, Kai’s blood staining his fingers as he’d staunched the knife wounds meant for him.

They hadn’t flinched back at his raised voice. Lloyd never raises his voice — he’s learned to keep it quiet, soft, unassuming. Even the slightest slip of frustration is enough to send anyone around him murmuring in suspicion, eyes narrowing and hissed whispers of just like his father filling the air.

Lloyd’s voice had been sharp and strained, barking across the rooftop, and they’d listened. No one flinched back, no eyes widened in fear — they’d just listened. They’re still listening, carrying out Lloyd’s orders without question, and it’s — it’s dizzying, if Lloyd had to put a word to it.

Cole and Zane are taking care of clean-up — something Lloyd will have to thank them for later, profusely. Neither were particularly happy about letting Kai out of their sights, but Cole and Zane are better at keeping each other steady than anyone else. It was the right call, Lloyd knows it was. Hopes it was.

But Lloyd hasn’t been having much faith in his calls, tonight. Not after Kai went down.

He swallows, focusing on the sounds reverberating from behind his closed door. Nya and Jay are talking with his mother, Nya’s louder tones easier to hear as she laughs. Lloyd knows her well enough to catch the strain in it, but he knows it’ll fool his mother. They’re distraction — Lloyd’s house was closest, and he’s got the best supplies stashed there. No one questions why he’s the one with the fully stocked medical kit, but Lloyd suspects they’ve all drawn their own conclusions.

He wishes they’d believe him, when he says it’s because he’s worried for them. He grew up with Wu as his uncle, who picks fights on a daily basis — with Morro as his cousin, who picks fights on an hourly basis. Lloyd knows the importance of having the good kind of medical supplies.

He finishes prepping the needle, squeezing Kai’s wrist briefly in warning. Lloyd’s not usually a tactile person — not that anyone would let him be — but he knows Kai soaks up touch like a starved sponge, and Lloyd’s desperate to give any kind of comfort he can before he starts with the needle.

Kai swallows, fixing his eyes firmly on the faded glow-in-the-dark stars plastered across Lloyd’s ceiling.

“Okay,” he says, his voice tight. “Bring it on.”

Lloyd swallows, steels himself, and sets the needle against his skin. Kai flinches at the first prick, eyes squeezing shut briefly, but otherwise he doesn’t move, jaw set stubbornly as Lloyd moves quickly. For his part, Lloyd keeps his eyes locked on the stitches, his hands steady. For all that Lloyd’s made up of bouncing nerves half the time, his hands rarely shake. Never when patching wounds up. He’s always been proud of how steady he can hold a needle, and tonight is no exception.

It’s the least he can do.

Kai suddenly tenses up, a broken-off noise strangling in his throat. Lloyd’s heart twists, but he stays steady, rallying himself. Conversation — Kai likes talking, right? Distraction, he can do that.

“So, um,” Lloyd stutters. On second thought, he’s awful at small talk. But — for Kai. “The way you took down that last guy was, it was really cool. Where’d you learn that?”

Kai bites his lip, exhaling shakily before he answers. “I train too, you know.”

Lloyd’s mouth quirks, despite himself. “Not like that.”

“What, a ninja can’t — can’t get creative,” Kai replies, through half-gritted teeth. Lloyd doesn’t say anything, but Kai rolls his eyes, continuing. “Fine. When I was younger, I ah…might’ve taken a few dance classes. For Nya! ‘Cause I couldn’t let her go alone, y’know, but they were — they were kinda fun, I guess, and maybe they slip into fighting, sometimes.” His cheeks darken, and Lloyd bites back a quiet laugh.

“Nothing like Cole, obviously, ‘cause he’s an actual dancer, but — that’s where I got it from.” He pins Lloyd with a glare, that’s somewhat dimmed by the scrunched expression of pain on his face. “Tell anyone and you’re dead though, okay?”

Lloyd hums his agreement, too focused on the stitches to reply immediately. After a moment, though, he speaks up again. “I did some ballet, when I was little.”

“No way,” Kai says, sounding delighted.

“Yeah, way,” Lloyd says. “I’ve heard from a very reliable source that dancing backgrounds are useful, with ninja stuff.”

“Very reliable meaning your uncle,” Kai grins.

Lloyd shrugs. “Maybe,” he half-smiles. Kai suddenly sucks in another pained breath, but to Lloyd’s relief, it’s likely the last one. He finishes off the stitches with a well-practiced hand, snapping the end of the thread and exhaling in relief.

“There. All done.”

Kai’s eyes widen. “Seriously, already?” He glances down at his arm, his other hand moving up to touch the stitches. Lloyd smacks it away, glaring at him.

“Don’t touch. You still have to watch out for infection. I’ll text you instructions for taking care of it, and everything. Just don’t do anything, ah…”

“No ninja-ing?” Kai finishes for him, crestfallen.

“Probably a good idea,” Lloyd says, apologetic. “But it’s not too bad. Shouldn’t take long, and you can be out, uh, ninja-ing again."

Kai is quiet for a moment, regarding his stitches. Then he turns to Lloyd, who is immediately staggered at the bright smile that stretches across his face.

“Cool. Thanks, Lloyd. You’re good at this.”

Lloyd can’t answer, his throat burning. He forces the welling moisture back, looking away. Kai’s only hurt for him, and that is layered with so much more meaning than Lloyd can comprehend right now.

“No problem,” Lloyd mutters, focusing instead on the voices outside his door in an attempt to find footing again. He can hear his mom laughing at something Nya’s said, open and relaxed in a way his mom rarely is. Lloyd’s heart twists into knots.

He doesn’t deserve them, any of them. Not really.

If Kai reminds Lloyd of the sun, then the rest of the team reminds him of stars. All bright and shining, bursting with warmth in their own way. Maybe not quite at the blazing heat that Kai does, but Nya is a north star if Lloyd’s ever needed one. Jay’s a blinking constellation, scattered stars that form a complex whole much larger than you’d thought. Cole’s the kind of star you see first pop up over the horizon, blending with the oranges and purples of the sunset, like a painting you’d see in soft watercolors. Zane’s the early-morning kind of star, the ones that stay stubbornly after the night’s left, dotting the pale morning with a calm steadiness.

Lloyd would be a planet, he supposes, caught in faithful orbit around the five people who have somehow, for some reason, given him a chance. It’d be generous, though. No, Lloyd is content just to be a moon — with no light of his own, reflecting only the brilliance others give him the best he can.

Kai’s finger taps the edge of his forehead, snapping Lloyd from his thoughts, and he blinks in confusion.

“Lost you there, again,” Kai asks, words mangled through a yawn. “Where’d you go?”

Lloyd shakes his head, turning his attention back to the bloodied thread leftover in his hands. His stomach turns, and he quickly sets it aside. “Just thinking.” He pauses, momentarily lost for words. He settles for jerking his head toward the window, where the smoke trailing from their hard-won battle is still visible against the dark sky, and gives Kai a wry smile. “How much do you wanna bet the cheerleading team comes up with a new song tomorrow?”

It’s been an inside joke for them, the ridiculous songs Chen and his gang keep coming up with to throw at Lloyd, and normally it gets a laugh from Kai. This time, though, Kai is silent, his eyes searching as he stares at Lloyd. Lloyd shifts under the attention, caught off-guard again. He doesn’t know what kind of look this is, that Kai’s giving him.

“They shouldn’t talk about you like that,” Kai finally says. His voice is quiet, but Lloyd can spot the brewing anger in it. Kai’s always got anger to spare.

“Sticks and stones, remember?” Lloyd shakes his head. He’s learned, after a while, that anger changes nothing. “Words will never hurt me.”

“Words hurt when people are throwing sticks and stones at you while they yell about your dad,” Kai grumbles.

“No one’s thrown rocks since second grade, actually.”

“Hm.” Kai’s tone is a mix of thinly withheld anger and mild amusement. Lloyd tilts his head, confused, and Kai gives a huff, anger tugging loose.

“Y’know, people say that if kids throw rocks at you in second grade, it means they’ve got a crush on you.”

Lloyd knows well enough it’s a joke, but he flushes red anyways, heat spreading across his cheeks. “Yeah, sure,” he stammers. Kai laughs at his reaction, though, the odd kind of anger departing, and Lloyd feels he’s found his footing again.

They’re quiet as Lloyd finishes cleaning up the medical supplies, Kai nodding sleepily on his bed while Lloyd carefully washes the needle in the bathroom sink. Maybe he can convince his mom to let Kai spend the night, he thinks. Jay and Nya , too — their apartment isn’t very big, but it’s awfully late to make them walk home, and Lloyd is fine with taking the floor, if he needs to.

Lloyd nods to himself, resolving to ask her once he’s finished hiding the evidence. His mom’s been so thrilled about him having people over at all, he can’t see her saying no. A smile pulls at his lips as he listens to the conversation outside his door again. Jay’s rambling on now, bright and excited without any of his usual reservation. He feels a pang, wondering if Jay’s the same as him — wondering if they’re all the same, playing at muted caricatures of themselves, too fearful to let whatever lies beneath shine through.

He wonders what it means, that they’re the ones with the city in their hands, that weight on their shoulders. Wonders what it means, that Lloyd feels safer with bullets strafing the air around him and his mask on, than he ever has with it off. That Green Ninja will always, always sound better than Lloyd in his ears.

“Hey, uh.”

Lloyd starts at Kai’s voice, twisting the sink off as he turns to face him. Kai looks half asleep, but the smile he gives him is bright as ever.

“Thanks, seriously. Not just for this, but for looking out for us. You’re a good friend.”

Lloyd’s heart skips a beat, his brain latching onto the word friend and holding on tightly, tucking it somewhere safe inside his chest.

“So thanks, Lloyd,” Kai yawns, barely awake at all now, but still stubbornly clinging to the threads of awareness.

Lloyd’s got his own thank you to give back, twisted and strangled behind whatever lump’s formed in his throat, but Kai’s snoring before he gets the chance to say it. So Lloyd tugs the edge of his comforter over his friend — his friend — instead, and runs the words over in his mind again and again, like a treasured line from a book.

On second thought. Maybe Lloyd isn’t so bad. He’s only ever liked his name the way his mom says it, without any of the snapping, harsh emphasis others give it. In others’ mouths, Lloyd’s name is a curse. In his mom’s, Lloyd’s name belongs to a person.

But he thinks, maybe, he likes the way it sounds when his teammates use it, too.

#answered #ninjago #tlnm #lloyd garmadon #kai smith #slight blood tw #i just. have a lot of feelings about friends #and a lot of thoughts about how the movie!ninja put each other on pedestals #not in an inherently bad way but #i think they all think so much of each other #they forget they're human #and that leads to fallout #anyways! movie bros T-T #my fic #masterofswag213

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crown-anon · 3 years

Text

@hearts1ck my beloved

November 1st

CW: explicit; more CWs under the cut

format: one-shot

people: GeorgeNotFound

pronouns: he/him; reader has male anatomy; more specifics under the cut

edited 14 March 2021

anonymous asked

consider. okay. CONSIDER. consider masochist george. okay?? okay. okay LISTEN.

I think I have a problem with gimmicks also. because. because. ever since strawberry milk george, I. I have not stopped thinking about strawberry flavored lube. because! listen okay hear me out.

(this is absolutely 110% a response to discovering that you share a birthday with him. what of it?)

I know everyone likes pillow princess george and. that's okay. that's FINE. these are not mutually exclusive.

george looking up at you with The LookTM wearing some pink strawberry milk lingerie. not even lingerie really! just something cute like that

& him being like. "I know you love me 👉👈 but I need you to fuck me like you don't"

so I was. thinking. that brat george is the exact kind of person to say (playfully & consensually) "but I don't wanna give you head, I just wanna fuck >:(" after you've got him worked up, maybe from teasing him throughout the day, or edging him a little. but you still need some type of lube. so you go to apply the first bottle you see and he's pink when he asks you "😳 is that ... strawberry ... ?" and you're confused like ??? bro you just asked me to fuck you into next week why're you interested in the flavored lube

but. but listen. he would get so enthusiastic about it. at first it's just "maybe I can stand to eat them out just a little bit before ..." and then after you come the first time it devolves really, really quickly into the need to just. take care of you. and it stretches on until you've come three or four times, and you're still shaking, and he's just. completely gone in subspace

hmm ... george climbing up onto your lap when he's done with you, going in to give you a kiss, and he tastes like strawberry. and he ends up moaning right into your mouth because he's been so horny but so? understimulated?? that he outright jumps as soon as his dick grazes your thigh. it would only take a couple stuttery grinds before he's finishing on both of your stomachs

and he's just so cute when comes, or when he bites down on your shoulder to keep himself quiet. and it's your birthdays. so, you decide you'll give him a reason to cry. and he'll finally get put in his place! it's a win-win for both of you!!

istg every time I send you an ask I discover something new about myself. you. you have made a dreamteam simp out of me. I am but a shell of the man I once was. I think I should thank you? [👑]

hearts1ck

i say this nearly every time you send stuff in but...... by god you own my soul. all of it. this – i – first of all, the implications of masochist george losing his fucking mind when you’re rough with him? guhhhfjklgjgf. and ,..d,,f,,, ,, ,, george in pink lingerie. i. i . a... pink satin slip maybe or .... ohghfd; oh my god those. that cat panty/bra set. im ascending im losing my brain as i type this i cannot –

okay im back on earth. he’d get into that rhythm and settle like liquid while he gets to work on you, and his subspace face is so self-satisfied and nearly smug so he’s just having the time of his life,,, and he makes such a loud noise when his dick twitches against your thigh and maybe... JUST MAYBE he whimpers extra watery when you drag his hips to grind against where you’re wet and dripping/your spent cock as if he’s the one who’d get overstimulated by it. when he finally leans away, eyelids heavy, you gently fit your hand over his jaw and ask, “did you even ask? it’s one thing to come without permission, but not even caring to ask? georgie, i might just be offended,” and he whines “green”s against your neck before you even check-in

and because u made it abt both of our birthdays ,,,, spanks for each year we’ve been alive methinks ??? and then the scratch down his ass gets him hard again and he’s so embarrassed by it, ,,, , ,, ,, ,, ,, ,

also thank god you’ve joined the george boat. i’m so proud of myself for hopefully being part of the reason you got dragged over here HJFKDHSKD

#👑 anon #(my beloved) #keep #anon thoughts: george #redsick #SHAWTY WANT THE WHOLE CREW SHAWTY BAD

as soon as you said birthday spanks I decided I had to write more about this. and I was going to leave more snippets in your askbox like the fucking gremlin creature I am, but then my thoughts started. actually having structure? and then I started writing it. and I tried to do homework and write on study breaks only but. I just kept coming back to this. this is the polar opposite of writer's block. I think I'm cursed or something. so here I am rushing to finish this so that I may rest in peace!!

yes I've been writing nonstop since I sent you that ask. what of it. what the fuck of it.

when I said I discover something new about myself every time we interact, I. I'm serious. I think I might be insane or something. I'm way too sadistic. you'll see. what the fuck is this? what the fuck did I just write??

this would have done so much critical psychic damage if I had posted it on November 1st in real life, but mental illness says I can't let my horny thoughts rattle around in my brain for that long. so!! it's you guys's problem now xoxoxo

I'm not fucking proofreading this. love you though 💗

I did end up proofreading actually. oops! looks like posting at 23:00 isn't always a good idea.

November 1st

CW: explicit, anal (kind of vague), bondage (collar + leash), corruption, domspace (I think??), edging, handjob, humiliation, masochism, oral, praise, sadism, spanking, subspace, swearing. I call George a whore and a slut at least once. and also, George calls yellow at one point. this one kind of surprised me so just. Be Careful. I cannot believe I wrote this. I don't know where this came from.

format: one-shot

people: GeorgeNotFound

pronouns: he/him; I use the word "sir;" reader has male anatomy; I use the words "cock," "dick," and "head;" reader can ejaculate

—

dawn shines through drawn curtains, illuminating the tile floor and your robed figure reflecting off it. batter sizzles in the skillet as you flip the last pancake over. this side looks golden brown, like honeycomb or caramelized sugar. that delicious, freshly-baked fragrance mingles with scented candles. it's perfect, you smile. he's going to love it.

you lift the pancake with a spatula, stacking it on top of the others on his plate. you bring it to his seat at the table, along with the butter, the syrup, the honey, the jam…and you go to pour him a drink.

"hey baby," you greet warmly to the sleepyhead rubbing his eyes in the entryway, still clinging to a pillow. his hair's a mess, only wearing socks and a sweatshirt that reaches down past his thighs. you reckon he'd only just crawled out of bed.

"morning…" he yawns, stumbling past you to take his seat.

"milk?" you ask, he only nods. "did you sleep okay?"

he hums affirmatively. "I…can we…"

one track mind, you joke inwardly. but you don't blame him. "of course," you open the fridge.

you hear him pause. "…is it too early for that?"

"no, no!" you give him a lighthearted laugh. "I kind of expected it, to be honest…I want it, too."

he's silent under the noise of you rummaging through the fridge. "I—"

"sorry—it looks like all we have is strawberry milk. is that alright?"

"yeah…yeah, that's alright. I…actually…wanted to try something new." you shut the fridge, he's fidgeting in his seat.

"hit me with it," your expression is gentle. you pass his cup off to him, but he holds his hand over yours a little too long, looking up at you.

"fuck me like you hate me."

you don't know if it's hearing him swear, or the way he said it so calmly, or how he closed his eyes and swallowed hard before his tone could dip down into something lower. but like a match in an torrent of gasoline, suddenly you're burning up.

you only realize you're staring when he bites his lip and looks down. you start to say something, but the words don't form.

he laughs nonthreateningly, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. "is that a yes?"

you laugh with him. "I…yes, absolutely yes." you turn back around to make your own stack of pancakes. "you should eat first, though."

"what?" he teases. "will I need the energy?"

you smile. "yeah. I think you will." you can practically feel him open his mouth in protest, but he stays silent after that.

and it stays mostly silent while you cook your pancakes. you hear the clinking of his fork on his plate, but it isn't very disruptive. it sounds like he's hurrying to finish his food.

when you go back to the table with your own platter, he's already done eating. he's red down to his neck, fidgeting with the hem of his sweatshirt, looking at you expectantly. you spot a pair of tassels peeking out from under it, just below his hip bones. is that…

he pulls the hem up just a bit, holding your gaze. he smiles, apparently satisfied watching your face heat up.

"I—you should go…go get ready," you manage. he gets up before you even finish your sentence, only stopping to give you a quick kiss on the cheek.

except it isn't quick, when he slides his hand down to rest firmly on your collar, and leans in to trail kisses down your neck. "a-and leave that on," you stutter.

he pauses, just under your jaw. "leave what on?" he murmurs.

your breath catches, you shut your eyes. "whatever the fuck it is you're wearing under there."

he's hardly grazing your skin, but you can feel how hot he is next to you. it takes all of your willpower not to shiver.

he pulls back quickly, only his hand lingering. "I don't know what you're talking about." and just like that, he disappears into your bedroom.

you reach up a hand tentatively to your collar, hot to the touch. I'm in way too deep, you decide, and force yourself to take a bite of your food despite your nerves.

—

"that," you hiss. "that fucking outfit. that."

"oh, this?" he bites his lip, hooking his thumb in the keyhole. "this's just what I went to bed in last night."

"fuck you. we both know that isn't true."

he tugs gently on his top, pulling it a little to the side. "what's the big deal? can't I wear something special for my birthday?"

"it's special, all right," and you leave it at that, opting instead to slot between his legs where he sits waiting on the edge of the bed. you bring up a hand to cup his jaw, brushing your thumb across his cheek. you'll never get enough of the way he looks at you, like you're intoxicating.

…? you frown.

"is something…missing?" he perks up instantly at "missing."

"what…?" he chooses his words carefully.

"the collar—your collar. where is it?" you turn away to start going through your bedside table, but the way his lips quirk up into a sly smile isn't lost on you.

that's lube…that's a vibrator…where the fuck is it…? "w-what collar?" he stumbles over his words.

your mind jumps to say, the collar that came with that outfit, or I know you know what I'm talking about, but you won't give him the satisfaction. you decide to speak a little darker, only a firm "George." you hear him swallow.

"w-well," his voice is shaky, "you only told me to leave on whatever I was wearing under my shirt. and…I wasn't wearing that collar at breakfast…s-so technically…"

you stop looking immediately. you turn to take him in, legs crossed, stance confident, but expression showing uncertainty. you can see the regret on his face. "get up." he takes a shallow breath. "get up."

"I'm—"

"don't I'm sorry me," you snap. "you look for your fucking collar on your own."

he slips off the bed, looking ashamed, but starts digging through the drawer all the same. "I really am sorry," he murmurs. you take his place sitting on the bed. he finds what he's looking for rather quickly: a simple white leather collar with a bell, and a leash. he hands them off to you shyly. "um, here…"

"good boy," you praise. "kneel."

he shuts his eyes and does as he's told. you can see the bliss wash over his face just at being ordered around. his lips part a little as he lets out a heavy breath. if only I knew what this would do to him, you muse, I'd have done this ages ago.

you fasten the collar, revelling in how he shivers at the gentle sensation of cold leather hanging around his neck. you leave it a little bit loose, but still comfortable, and hook the leash in its place. he sits obediently still on his knees, looking deep in thought.

"Oh, I know what I'm gonna do to you," you bait. "how old are you today?"

"mmm. twenty-five." he looks down.

you smile, holding tight onto the leash. "I'm gonna edge you. twenty-five times."

he flinches away immediately, yet hums in pleasant surprise when the leash snaps taught. the bell jingles stiffly. "no way. that's way too much."

"I think you should've thought about that before you wore that to breakfast," you decide, tugging a little. he's caught off-guard and stumbles forward, stopping himself by leaving a clumsy pair of kisses on the inside of your thigh. the metal and leather feel refreshingly cool against your feverish skin. "we've got all day, baby."

you expect to hear some kind of protest, you're crazy. or a playful taunt, I'm better off doing this by myself. but he knits his brows and openly moans at the thought. "all day…" he repeats.

he looks up at you, almost pleading, and you can hear the resignation in his voice when he whispers "alright."

"get up here," you command. "on top of me." as he climbs up into your lap, a little too eagerly, you add, "and take your dick out."

you shrug your robe off your shoulders while he's working on his panties, and without thinking, you ask, "color?"

he stops, leaving his head poking cutely over the waistband. he looks up at you again. "…what?"

"um…color," you explain. "like, how are you doing? is this okay? I don't actually want to hurt you. uhhh…green means good, yellow means slow down, and red means stop."

he stifles a laugh. "you're such a nerd. I'm okay."

"alright." you blush a little. "we can stop whenever you need to. this is for you…" you think of something horribly unsexy to say. "…birthday boy."

now he's really laughing, with his whole body. you think the way it makes his collar jingle is cute. "oh my god. shut up. just shut up," his expression turns serious, and he drops to a whisper, "and fuck me."

that got you hot again. you pull him by the leash into a kiss, you bite his lip, you eat him up. and you grab the both of you together with your other hand, you moan in tandem. you can feel how you took him by surprise in the way he twitches under your thumb, the way he leans into you with his whole body. you part from the kiss and he leans back on his heels, panting hard, holding on to your shoulders for support. you can feel him shaking a little.

when you move your hand all the way up the first time, you squeeze both of your heads gently, and he practically falls into you. muffled in the crook of your neck, he begs, "god, do that again."

so you do. again. and again. what was a string of stuttered breaths turns into a single broken moan as you jerk the both of you off. when you think you're getting close, you let go of yourself to focus all your attention on him.

"fuck, sir," he whines—hahaha, that sir made your cock leak a little. he shut his eyes tight. "I-I-I think—I think I'm—"

just like that, you stop, and he goes slack, practically laying on you. but he doesn't grind back, or even move to touch himself. that won't last very long.

you let him come back down, knowing edging takes a lot out of you; maybe even more so than actually coming does. slowly but surely, his breathing steadies. you rub between his shoulderblades affectionately, still trying to ground yourself, too.

once you've found your voice again, you question, "are you gonna count for me?"

he makes a sound against your skin, somewhere between excitement and fear. "…o-one." you revel in how fucked-out he sounds already.

"one what?" you prod.

he seems at a loss, like he's forgotten himself, what he said. after a minute or two of pondering, he catches on. "…sir."

it's your turn to moan. your dick jumps at the honorific, still mostly untouched against your stomach. "good boy." and you dive back in. twenty-four to go.

—

it's noon. you're working on nineteen. and your partner's getting much more…expressive. he's started biting his hand to keep himself quiet, but he's still…

"I-I—oh fuck, I'm—fuck, I-I'm—I'm—" he whimpers through his teeth. and he yelps, whole body shaking, bell jingling incessantly, when he comes all over your hand and stomach.

you take your hand off him immediately, and this time he does try to reach down, ride through it, but you grab both his wrists to stop him. he grinds down uselessly against your thigh and your dick. although you're still hard, and only a hairline trigger away from coming yourself, it doesn't stop you from keeping this brat in line. you only bite your lip and close your eyes.

he leans his forehead against yours, moving in to give you a kiss, but you push him away.

"did you never learn how to fucking count?" you growl.

he winces. "I-I-I-I'm…I'm sorry—"

you scowl at your hand, covered in come. "here, slut," you raise it up to his lips. "clean this off for me."

he tears up a little, but takes your fingers into his mouth all the same. pretty quickly, though, he spits them back out.

"it doesn't taste good…" he complains.

"oh? oh, it doesn't?" you mock. "but it felt good, when you came without my permission, like a cheap fucking whore."

a couple of tears spill over, roll down his cheeks, yet he says nothing, only moving back in to lap his come off your hand. you can see it in his expression that he's not very happy about it, but he doesn't protest further.

"is this good enough, sir?" he asks, when it seems that he's gotten it all. it looks clean enough, you agree. you grab him by the chin, hooking your thumb in his mouth. you don't even have to tell him to suck.

"you come without my approval again, and it's over. you can go back to playing minecraft—or what-the-fuck-ever—with your friends for your birthday. do you want to sleep on the couch, Georgie?"

if he wasn't crying before, he's definitely crying now. he doesn't shake his head, but he circles your fingertip with his tongue enthusiastically, as if to say, I'll be good, I'll be good this time, looking up at you doe-eyed.

"bend over for me," you demand. "across my lap."

he does so immediately. he slips a little bit while he's changing positions, you hear the bell ring, and he scrambles to correct himself. he settles with his ankles crossed and his head in his hands, propping himself up on his elbows. you feel a little bad, you admit, but you won't budge; he has a safeword, you trust that he'll use it.

"let's try that again," your tone softens. "I want you to count for me, okay?"

he nods.

you pull his panties to the side, pause briefly, and bring down your hand with a satisfying smack.

"ohhhhhh—" he moans, jolting a little. "—holy shit, did you just spank me?"

your stomach drops, you go to rub him gently where you just hit him. "is that okay—?"

"it's hot, it's so hot, fuck," he shifts in your lap. "um, sorry…one."

seriously, something about hearing him swear awakens something in you, every time. you're fired up. you spank him again.

"mmm—two…" is he…? "three…"

you pause to massage his ass again, and to speak. "you're…you're hard again, aren't you?"

you didn't even spank him yet, but he lets out a moan. "fuck, I—I just. I want you. I want this. so, so much."

you wonder if this is actually the same George who was fidgeting with his pillow in the dining room this morning.

"you're so bad, getting turned on by something like this," you tease. he only moans in response.

"four—five—six—seven…" he chokes out. "it's starting to sting…"

you take a break, kneading the skin where your angry red handprint is starting to take shape.

"eight…nine…but god, it hurts so good…" he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. "ten…"

at ten, you linger for a moment, holding a handful of his ass. "does it?"

"yes—yesyesyes," he buries his face in the pillow, and shivers. "fuck, eleven…twelve…"

you pull his panties down to his knees, and switch sides. he lifts his hips up, so I can reach him better, you guess. you don't miss the telltale glint of a butt plug, but you'll get to that later.

"thirteen—fourteen—fifteen—sixteen," he moans between slaps. he's gripping the pillowcase so hard his knuckles are white.

in this new position, the way he jumps with every hit makes his cock brush against yours just right. fuck, you're still hard from earlier. this time you're the one who whimpers.

"seventeen, eighteen," he pauses, breathless. you pull gently on his leash, he arches his back and moans, "n-nineteen." his bell jingles.

he grinds down, just for a moment, and the friction is delicious. you're a little dizzy, you think you might've thrust back. you both sigh at the feeling.

"…t-twenty…see? I-I can count…I'm a good boy…I'm good for you…aren't I?"

"you are," you murmur, but you aren't sure he hears you. "you're so good…"

"twenty-one—twenty-two…I-I feel like I haven't done anything right today…twenty-three…"

"…George…?" you hear a muffled sob.

"twenty-four…" he mumbles.

"George?" you start to get concerned. he just keeps crying. "hey…" you whisper. you gently prompt him to turn him over; the pillow's a little wet. you pull the panties off all the way, and get him out of the bra, which had a little stray come on it. you help him sit up in your lap, and pull him into a hug.

"am I really just a whore…?" he asks brokenly.

"you've been so good for me, baby. you've done everything I've asked." you wipe his tears away with your thumb. "are you okay?"

"but I—" he coughs. "—I came too soon, I came without your permission…"

you kiss his hair, and hold him to your chest. "you've been so patient. I'm proud of you."

he finally wraps his arms around you. "I-I'm sorry."

"nonsense," you reassure. "your comfort takes priority. are you okay? color?"

"I…" he searches for the words. "I dunno. yellow? I…that hurt, I think. being…degraded?"

you comb through his hair with your fingers. "I understand. thank you for telling me. I love you."

—

you stay like that for a minute. you grab him a snack and a drink, but for the most part, you just enjoy each other's company, tangled-up together. you don't bother putting your clothes back on.

it's later in the evening. you're straddling him, peppering his shoulders with kisses, and he's giggling underneath you. he turns over to give you a short and sweet kiss.

"baby?" he says, looking expectantly.

"what is it?" you sit back on your heels.

he hesitates. "…I wanna keep going. from earlier."

you're serious again. "are you sure you're okay?" you grab his hand, bringing it up to kiss his fingertips. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm alright," he assures. "I remember you promising me an all-day thing, though."

you blush, a little surprised by his forwardness. "of course. I think…I…" you laugh. "I wanna fuck you."

"yeah?" he smiles, leaning up close. "show me how much."

you hold his jaw while you kiss him, biting his bottom lip between your teeth. he tastes like the coffee and cream you made him earlier. you feel his breath hitch. he reaches up to hold your shoulders.

you pull back. "hey, blow me first."

"what? why?" he giggled.

"it's been a couple hours, I'm not hard anymore," you coax. "I thought you liked taking orders?"

he cringed. "but come tastes gross!"

you slid off him and hopped off the bed, opening the drawer. "suit yourself. you get to watch me jack off, then."

"fine by me, I think you look good when you masturbate."

"ohhh, I forget, you're too blissed-out to pay attention to how I look when you're getting fucking owned."

"I am not!"

"you are too!" he sticks his tongue out at you.

you open the lid, pouring a little on your hand, a little on your cock. it's translucent pink, seems a little fragrant. you give yourself a couple of strokes with a sigh.

he's quiet for a second, then, shyly, "um…is that…strawberry flavored…?"

you bite your lip. "I thought you weren't gonna give me head?"

"I was just curious." it's a weak lie, but you say nothing.

your eyes are shut, but you can feel him moving around a bit on the bed, you hear his bell ring a couple times. you feel a hand on your thigh, so you decide to peek. and holy shit.

your partner's made his way to the floor, on his knees between your legs, holding his leash in his mouth, his fucking mouth, what the fuck. his thumb's rubbing circles on the inside of your thigh. the half-lidded look he's giving you should be criminal.

"you—I thought you said you wouldn't…" you can't find the words. you reach out and take the leash from his mouth. you see your hand shake in front of you.

"I'm just watching…" he whispers, looking up at you, mesmerized.

you're only able to get a couple of pumps in before he's joining you, hand over yours as you get yourself off. just the extra sensation of somebody else's touch is enough to make you bite back a moan.

"fuck—!" you jolt when he licks a stripe up the underside. he mouths over the head, jerking you off on his own now. you move to grip the sheets in one hand, his leash in the other. and you come without warning. you see it end up on his hand and your stomach before you shut your eyes tight.

he's quiet while you're coming down, just helping you ride it out, giving you kisses on your thighs. when you look back down at him, he's got two of his fingertips in his mouth, licking them clean. he stands up abruptly, it startles you a little. you see his bell ring. and he grabs you by the hips and leans down to your midriff.

"…I don't think I cleaned you off all the way earlier…" he breathes, and he starts to lap up the mess of his and your come that's been on you since this afternoon.

what the fuck. why is this so hot? why is he so hot? all too soon, your spent cock twitches in interest at your lover. he cups it with a hand, smiling against your tummy. you're so sensitive it hurts. you think you mean to say something, but nothing comes out.

"hmm…?" he bites his lip. "you still want some more?" all you can do is whine. at this point, you don't know if it's in protest or invitation.

you don't get the chance to find out either, because fuck, he's really going down on you now. you don't know what the fuck he's doing with his tongue, or where his gag reflex went, but at this rate you're gonna come again.

"George—George, baby, I—slow down, I-I'm—" you plead. his leash slips out of your hand, you tip your head back.

he swallows.

—

the last thing you remember is coming harder than you ever have in your life. you think you held him by his hair. you might've fucked his mouth a little. he's never let you come in his mouth before…fuck…

it's nighttime now. he's riding your thigh, got one of his legs slotted between yours. the friction between his knee and your overstimulated cock feels embarrassingly good. you're so dizzy, all you can articulate is a loud moan. you don't sound at all like you remember. his bell keeps ringing and ringing and ringing as he grinds against you.

he leans down, one arm holding your hip, the other keeping himself propped up. he bites your shoulder, hard, hard enough to bruise. he comes on both of your stomachs.

"George," you beg. you're losing your voice.

"mmmmmmsir," he slurs. "fuck me."

"George, I…" you don't know what you're saying. the end of your sentence turns into a whimper.

"you need me to get you hard again? you need me to rile you up?" he turns to kiss your jaw, feeling around for your dick. "like this?"

"George," you sound urgent, until he squeezes right around the head, and you forget what you were saying. you're pretty fucking close to forgetting who you are entirely.

he sits up on top of you, grinning. "love the way you say my name, sir."

that name. all it takes is the way he says that fucking name and you're ready to go again. you flip the two of you over, so that you're towering over him instead. "you still didn't. fucking. ask me. if you could come."

he giggles, a little crazed. he hooks his arms around his knees, hugging them to his chest.. "so what? so what? you gonna fuck me 'till I behave?"

"yes," you reach down, "I think I will." and you pull out the butt plug he (probably forgot he) had in all day.

"fuck—" he sobs. you watch his dick bob. precome drips into a pool on his stomach. "—green—green—so fucking green."

you're still sensitive from coming twice—you're pretty sure he is too. you lean down to give him a kiss, you moan into each other's mouths. he tastes like strawberries and his and your come. it is a little gross, you admit. but he's so tight and so fucking cute that you can't bring yourself to care. you part, and there's a line of salvia connecting the two of you.

"wait—" you say, but it comes out like a growl. "roll over."

he gets on his hands and knees, reaching back and spreading himself open for you. fuck.

you fuck him like that, holding the leash tight, loving the way he arches his back into the bed. the bell on his collar jingles incessantly.

you spank him, one last time.

"th-that's twenty-f-five—oh, fuck, sir," he growls, clinging on to the blankets for dear life.

you pin one of his hands in place and reach down to touch him. he starts laughing again.

"mmmmmmay I please come, sir? I—fuck—I'm so close, soclosesoclose," his breath stutters, you can hear the breaks in his voice. he buries his face in the blankets.

I'm close, you think, but the words don't make it out. "you're so good—you're so fucking good—come for me—fuck, come for me."

—

you're a mess. there's some drying solution of come and lube on your stomach. not to mention whatever the fuck's going on with your hair. your robe is discarded haphazardly on the floor. you think you've got a hickey, but you can't remember where.

actually, you're both a mess. he's also covered in come, sweat, and lube. he's got a red ring around his neck where you pulled him by the leash a little too hard. he's just covered in bruises. he clings to your arm, still fast asleep. you both passed out pretty quickly after…whatever that was, but you got back up a couple hours later. it doesn't look like he did, though.

actually, your whole bedroom is a mess. a blanket or two ended up discarded on the floor. there's an empty bottle of edible lube somewhere around here. your kitty lingerie set, still dirty, somehow ended up hanging in the closet. the first time you woke up you were both cuddling with a butt plug that you misplaced in the heat of the moment.

you don't think you've ever seen him like that. you can't even put it into words. you've never spanked him. he's never called you sir. you've never come in his mouth. he's never…begged for you like that before. you've never been so exhausted after coming that you both just, just fainted.

you feel lightheaded, and dead tired. you know you both must have gotten back up and gone at it at least a couple more times, but it's blurry, you can't remember. all you know is your vibrator's missing, and you feel…unusually empty, like you do the morning-after getting railed a little too hard.

last night…what the fuck happened last night?

you contemplate getting up, slipping your arm out of his embrace, pulling the covers back up around him, leaving to make breakfast. you're kind of disgusting, several hours after sex without cleaning up properly. you want to get yourselves some washcloths, maybe take shower together, or run him a bath. you know he's gotta be way more sore than you are.

you catch yourself staring, lost in thought; he just looks too cute when he's very clearly roughed up, but still sleeping soundly. and with the way he wanted…the way he needed you yesterday, you don't think he would want to wake up alone.

maybe it's okay if we sleep in a little longer.

you stroke his hair and whisper, "happy birthday, baby boy."

—

edited 14 March 2021

#limeade-zest #georgenotfound x reader #george x reader #george davidson x reader

107 notes · View notes

vhsrights · 3 years

Note

Ever since I saw them posts about JJ have short hair??? Like a pixie cut??? Wanna do me a solid and tell me your thoughts on Emily’s first (and maybe subsequent) reaction when JJ walks into the bullpen? Assuming they’re not together already.

OH OH BRILLIANT THOUGHT WHILE IM WRITING THIS: JJ with short hair AND a leather jacket. I feel like PG definitely had a hand in this new change in JJ...

for sure i gotchu! :) this was one that i have been wanting to do for a while. (edit: so i know that you only asked for my thoughts but i got really excited and into it so i turned it into an OS) <3

Dashing

Pairing: Pre Jemily - talked about

WC: 4.8k words

Summary: JJ with short hair, and what it does to Emily :) [bullpen and team night out version; pre jemily] (like a prelude to gnc jj)

It happened on a Thursday afternoon. JJ had been shaking all day, but Penelope had convinced her that it would be okay. The blonde locks that she had been identified with for so long felt even heavier against her shoulders. She made sure to stay hidden away in her office, thanking her lucky stars that they were off case rotation. Her fingers consistently found themselves back into her hair, twisting and twirling them relentlessly. If JJ could have simply willed her long hair away, she would have. She restlessly twirled the pen in her hand for several hours, making little headway on the mountain of files by her. Her eyes kept darting over to the screen of her computer monitor, feverishly checking and rechecking the time.

5:45 pm. That was when the appointment was set for. JJ wished that she would be able to simply forget about it until then. Maybe if she did, she would actually get more work done. She texted Penelope, who was out for coffee on a break, to get her some too. Soon after she got the caffeine, JJ was able to shut out the rest of her thoughts. The boost alone drove her to finish files at triple her previous rate. Maybe that was also the adrenaline. Her phone broke her trance-like consciousness when it began to beep incessantly. She had set an alarm to go off 45 minutes before her appointment, enough time for her to wrap up at the office and calm her nerves before she made the short 10-minute drive to the barbershop.

Feeling her heart pound harder in her chest, JJ sat back in her chair to ground herself. She decided that getting up before she had a grip on her emotions was not a good idea. JJ let her eyes close gently and her mind began to wander. In her head, JJ saw the faces of those that she had met as this version of herself. They had all changed her, for better or for worse, and the memories began to flow in. It started with her mother and father. They had given a life that she couldn’t have been more appreciative of in the early years, forgoing the memories of harsh words and other negative acts. Moving on quickly, the next face flashed before her eyes. Roslyn.

Her sister had been her saving grace before JJ could even comprehend the idea. JJ had always looked up to the girl. Roslyn was phenomenal and JJ could only imagine how far she would have made it if she had still been alive. Roslyn was the one that had taught JJ how to braid her hair, wash it, and even curl it. Roslyn had curled her long blonde hair for the first time when she watched her get ready for the homecoming dance. It had only been one clump of strands but the way that her sister had so gently handled her locks left JJ in awe of Roslyn’s caring nature. After Roslyn left, JJ held onto her hairstyle, scared to let go of it as it sometimes felt like her only tie to her older sister.

Her college best friends, partners in the Academy, Hotch, Reid, Rossi, and so many more came and left in her thoughts. It was like her thoughts were forming their own little presentation of what JJ was getting rid of today. Some had more important roles than others but she had to remind herself that today wasn’t getting rid of anything but her hair. She was still JJ, but this felt more real. She wouldn’t have to avert her eyes in the mirror as much, and it would help to match her appearance more closely to how she felt inside.

Eventually, her mind came to the inevitable. Emily. Emily was something to JJ that she couldn’t describe. JJ loved Emily, but it wasn’t just that. Over time, as she had gotten to know the woman, JJ had come to truly understand her. It was the kind of intimacy that relied on the briefest of eye contact, all thoughts conveyed in body language alone. She couldn’t tell Emily though. It was too risky, and no matter how bold JJ was, Emily was a whole new world. She pushed away the thought that Emily would hate her haircut. If Emily rejected the haircut, it would feel more like she rejected who JJ truly was. But she would never do that. Right?

No, Emily would never do that. She couldn’t, because then JJ didn’t know what she’d do. Trying to distract herself from the increasing anxiety, she tried to remember their Girl’s Nights and separate hangouts where Emily would mindlessly run her fingers through JJ’s hair. It was how she calmed JJ, and the experience itself felt like home to the blonde. Glancing down at her watch, JJ realized that she got a bit too tied up with her imagination and saw that it was 5:25. Grabbing her things in a frenzy, JJ quickly headed out of the bullpen. She caught a glance of Morgan, eyebrows raised in bewilderment. JJ waved the team off, not slowing down on her way to the elevator. Hotch already knew that she was taking the early day so she was set.

JJ shot a text off to Garcia before driving off, telling her to check her office for anything that JJ might have forgotten and that she was going to her apartment after the haircut. Throwing her phone into the passenger seat, JJ drummed her fingers against the steering as she pulled out of the parking lot. She drove to the barbershop and reached in 7 minutes. Emily and her crazy driving skills would have been proud. Exiting the door rather quickly, JJ ran her fingers through her hair one last time.

This was goodbye.

She fidgeted with her fingers the entire time she waited for her appointment. JJ rocked her body gently, forward and backward, grounding herself in the steady rhythm. After some time, a person wearing a short-sleeved, cuffed button-down and a large black apron approached her. Their hair was cropped short, the sides shaved to a small length to let the top flow over their forehead. It was perfectly what JJ wanted. She felt her face grow hot at the realization that this was actually happening. JJ was going to do the big chop.

“Hi, Welcome to the Queer Barbers’ Guild. My name is Tay and I can help you today. JJ, isn’t it?” Tay held out their hand as JJ stood up, initiating their quick handshake.

“Uh, yeah. I had said over the phone that I wanted to cut most of my hair off. Actually, I would like exactly what you have. If that works?” JJ took quick strides to keep up with the barber, hearing the bustle of the shop as they got closer to the chair.

Tay chuckled, nodded, and gestured for JJ to sit in the seat. They pumped up its height, adjusting it to their work position. She sat down eagerly, feeling energized as the moment of the cut drew nearer.

“So are you looking to do a wash first today? I can definitely do my cut on you, so it’s just whatever you want. I would have to say though, I think you’re going to look rather dashing.” JJ blushed and failed to respond.

Dashing. Not pretty.

“I haven’t washed my hair in a few days for this haircut, so that would be nice. Thank you.”

JJ sat back in the chair and let Tay drape the apron cover over her. They combed through her hair slowly, getting tassels out and examining it for the cut. Once it was all brushed out, they measured out lengths and showed them to JJ in the mirror. JJ soon came to an idea of what she wanted.

Tay led her out of the chair and over the washing room. She sat down and made herself comfortable. JJ tried to solidify those last few moments in her head as the last memories she had with her long hard. The warm water began to run over her scalp and she forgot what else was running through her head. Before she knew it, the wash was over and she was back in the hair cut chair.

Now was the time.

They dried her hair and combed through it again. JJ closed her eyes. She was scared of what would happen. What if it wasn’t right? How would she undo the damage? She then felt a chilled glass against her fingers. Slowly peeking one eye open, she spotted some kind of alcohol in Tay’s outstretched hand. Curious, JJ looked up at the barber.

“To calm your nerves. Don’t worry, I’ve done plenty of these chops myself and I had my own. Trust me, things are only going to get better from here. So, here’s to relaxing. You earned it.”

“Thank you. Really, thank you.” JJ couldn’t explain her gratitude as she took the glass.

Maybe everything would be okay.

JJ relaxed and Tay began to gather her hair for the big chop. Tay carefully sectioned her hair, making sure to constantly check the length. Then, the time came. Tay lightly tapped her on the shoulder, indicating that they had the scissors at the ready. All they needed was the go-ahead from JJ. The blonde took in one last deep breath, giving them permission on her exhale.

The first cut was the most jarring. JJ could feel the hair being cut, its strands tugging at the sharp shears. She let out a gasp and everything happened too quickly for her to process after that. The hair fell left and right, leaving her head feeling instantly lighter and freer.

Tay worked incredibly efficiently. They managed to keep checking in with JJ as they deftly cut her hair. Soon, it was gone. The buzz of the razor sent a jolt up JJ’s spine but Tay quickly reassured her. They made light passes and cut down the hair on the sides and back. It was still nearly half an inch long, but that was exactly what JJ wanted.

“There you go. All done, JJ. What do you think?” Their voice cut through the haze of JJ’s thoughts and she turned her head, examining her new look.

The long hair was gone.

JJ had short hair now. It felt like a high, like one she’d never felt before but would never let up again. She ran her fingers through it, marveling at the softness and sleek nature of the look. She looked pretty fucking dashing. JJ turned around and looked at Tay, struggling to keep her tears at bay. She shouldn’t be on the verge of crying. JJ chastised herself internally.

“I- I don’t really have the words to thank you right now. I know that I shouldn’t be so emotional over a haircut, but you made everything perfect.” JJ held her head down, trying to hold back the tears.

“Of course. It’s no problem. For the emotions, believe me, I was a sobbing mess when I got my first big chop. You can always ask for me when you come to the Guild. Thanks for coming, and we can go up to the front for payment now.”

JJ paid and left the establishment. She was still dazed, not sure if everything was real. Her fingers found their way back into her hair several times, simply running through it as she made her way to the car. Her watch showed 7:03 pm as the time and JJ pulled out her phone. Her fingers quivered as she typed out her text to Penelope. She didn’t want to text her friend a picture of herself, deciding to keep the hair a surprise until she arrived at Penelope’s apartment.

Jayje (7:03 PM): Got the haircut. Pen this feels fucking crazy. I almost cried in the shop because of how nice my barber was and how I look. Heading over now.

PG (7:03 PM): AHHHH im so excited for you!! i already know that you look hot as fuck babes.

JJ smiled and set her stuff aside. She was off to Penelope’s apartment. The analyst had told her that she had a surprise for her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

JJ pulled up to the analyst’s apartment. The sun was still high in the sky outside, and she could hear the chirp of several little birds off in the distance. Penelope was waiting for her. Taking one last deep breath, JJ walked towards the front door. It was part of a little archway to a quaint apartment but it could have been the door to the White House with how nervous JJ was.

She shivered as she rang the doorbell. Here goes nothing. Reaction number one, how bad can it be? Penelope had already been anticipating JJ’s arrival so the door flew open mere seconds later. She appeared in the doorway, beaming with energy. Then she laid her eyes on JJ.

“OH. MY. GOD. JAYJE. YOU LOOK AMAZING.” Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped at the sight of JJ.

Penelope dragged JJ into the apartment faster than the blonde could respond to her statement. She was bubbling with excitement, super ready to give JJ her present. Penelope began to give a preface before they reached her couch. On it, sat a medium-sized silver bag. Tissue was popping out of the top and JJ was drawn to it. Penelope noticed her eyes on the present.

“Go ahead. Open it. I got it for you because I think it definitely matches your new vibe and that you ARE wearing it to team drinks tomorrow. Emily won’t be able to take her eyes off of you!”

JJ paused.

“What does Emily have to do with this?” She looked back at Penelope, her forehead scrunched in confusion.

“You’re joking, right? You can’t seriously ignore the tension between you two. It’s Miss Darking and Brooding and The Badass Baby Blonde. You two are a power couple! Unless, you aren’t madly in love with her and would be fine with me setting her up with this other friend of mine…”

“Okay, okay. No setting Emily up with your friend. She’s mine, thank you very much.” JJ spoke confidently, knowing that Penelope could see right through her bravado.

“I’m sure she is. That’s why you asked her out. Oh, wait…”

“Fine, so I haven’t asked her out. I’m just terrified. She’s Emily.”

“Yeah, and you’re JJ. Plus, now you have that super butch look so you can ask her out tomorrow. But not until you open the gift!” Penelope pointed at the glossy bag once more.

JJ rolled her eyes and turned back to the bag. She slowly pulled out the tissue and spotted dark fabric underneath it. Reaching inside, it was cool to the touch. JJ pulled out a black, leather jacket. It was sleek with 4 zippers, 2 collar buttons, and seams that traced around the jacket.

JJ thumbed it and fell more and more in love with it as she took in the jacket more. It was perfect. This jacket, combined with the haircut and the way that Tay complimented her earlier, felt like an amalgamation of the person that she was supposed to be. JJ wasn’t the girl that hid behind her femininity and used it as a weapon to get her way. In fact, her femininity did more against her than it did for her. Pushing that thought out of her head, JJ turned to Penelope.

With tears in her eyes, she hugged Penelope. She hugged her with all her might. She couldn’t describe the feeling in her head. Later, she would come to find out that it was gender euphoria. But in that moment, every positive emotion felt weak in comparison to the explosion of happiness in her mind.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

JJ had opted for her pantsuit for work on Friday. Her normal skirt suits just didn’t fit who she saw herself as in the moment. Whether that would change or not, she didn’t know. It felt powerful, and with her hair coiffed up, JJ was unstoppable.

The elevator doors dinged open and she hesitantly took her first step. The big glass doors of the BAU seemed daunting now, and it made JJ feel small. She felt insignificant and her breath partially caught in her throat. Looking over at her watch, JJ realized that she was almost late. Deciding that the time to wait was over, JJ took confident strides forward. She pushed the doors open and made her way to her office until something stopped her.

Derek’s voice boomed out in front of her. Reid and the rest of the BAU men were sitting at his desk and their eyes lifted up to meet hers. It took all of JJ’s strength not to turn on her heel and bolt. But she loved this haircut, and it made her confident; so she had to act like it. Slowing up her stride, she detoured over to the group. Derek had called out to her, commenting on the haircut.

All of them were genuinely curious, stating their approval multiple times. JJ even got a fistbump from Derek and a wide smile from Spencer. Hotch’s usual morose expression lightened up. They talked about how she had wanted to get it, the differences from long hair, and the overall confidence boost. It was invigorating. More than anything else, JJ felt her heart swell at the sheer support from her teammates. They joked about her being one of the guys; and though right now it was short hair, JJ could feel that it was just the tip of the iceberg.

They eventually got to the topic of where she cut it and JJ casually mentioned the barbershop. At that, Derek’s eyes lit up. He was always one to preach the benefits of a barbershop, offering the argument that it was a place that created a sense of family. He asked if it had been The Queer Barber’s Guild, to which JJ had nodded her head. His interest peaked, Derek asked if it had been Penelope’s recommendation. To that, JJ nodded enthusiastically again.

“Yeah, she’s always loved that place. Babygirl got me hooked on it too, right after I came out. They’ve got some really cool bi stuff in there. Who did you have? Was it Tay? They’re my bro, and a top notch barber.”

“I did have them. They made things so easy. I’m definitely only going there from now on.”

JJ and the group carried on their conversation for a little longer when she heard a squeal behind her. She turned partially to see Penelope clacking over in her yellow heels. She had a huge smile plastered on her face, and was obviously excited for JJ.

“Jayje! You look even better today than you did yesterday! So what’s going on, are we talking about the QBG because, my god, do I love that place!”

Everyone giggled and they continued the conversation. Penelope watched as JJ’s eyes shifted around the bullpen ever so slightly. Of course. JJ was looking for the only missing member, arguably her favorite one. Emily. Penelope held back her laugh yet could help but to smile at the blonde’s little search. She leaned in close to JJ and tapped her on the shoulder.

“She’s in the break room.” JJ tried to fake obliviousness, but she knew that she’d been caught.

“Thanks PG.”

Casually excusing herself from the conversation, JJ left on the behest of “files that she needed to tend to”. She didn’t care if anyone bought the excuse. In her mind, the only place for her to go was the break room. JJ wanted to show Emily the “new her”. Of course, it wasn’t new, but she felt different. Trying not to give things much more thought, JJ arrived at the break room with a quick pace.

She noticed Emily at the coffee counter, stirring her mug. JJ was overcome with something at the sight of Emily. Not even thinking, she leaned against the doorframe and called out to the brunette.

“Got enough for another cup?” Her voice was nonchalant but her heart was pounding in her chest.

Emily perked up at the sound but didn’t turn around. She finished stirring her coffee and began turning around before starting to speak.

“Jen! Oh, shoot, I just used the last of it for my cup.” Emily spoke cheerily as she brought the mug to her lips.

Then her eyes landed on JJ.

Emily completely froze, nearly choking on her coffee. Her eyes widened as they took in her friend’s new look. JJ looked hot. There was a pervading silence between them, but neither could break their trance for long enough to say something. Emily looked over the short hair on JJ’s head, inspecting it almost. She noticed how it’s varied length set off the blonde’s angular features. Emily could almost feel her knees go weak but held it together.

Neither knew nor cared to time how long they stayed like that. It somehow hadn’t reached the point of awkwardness, but both JJ and Emily’s minds were overactive. At some point, JJ managed to point back at the coffee pot. Emily jolted up and moved to the side, breaking her haze. Her gaze instead landed on their best friend in the distance, who was giving her a very enthusiastic thumbs up. Penelope Garcia really was something.

Emily rolled her eyes and turned back to JJ. She was setting things up for a new pot of coffee and the brunette couldn’t help but to watch her intently.

“So, uh, Jen. The haircut. You look amazing. It really suits you.”

“Thanks, Em. I just got it yesterday and I already feel like a whole new person. It’s a bit strange, but honestly, I love it.”

Emily smiled dopily, attempting to hide her grin behind her sips of coffee. They spoke for a little longer before the coffee was nearly done brewing. The small talk was comfortable, though not the kind of conversations they usually had. It was workplace appropriate because that was what JJ and Emily were, colleagues.

“Okay, I’m gonna head back to my desk. I’ll see you at team drinks tonight?” Emily patted JJ’s arm and turned to leave.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” JJ blushed and the two ignored the giddiness they felt.

After leaving the break room, Emily made her way to Penelope’s lair instead. She definitely had some thoughts about JJ’s new look.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hotch, Reid, and Rossi were the first to arrive. They were known for their punctuality. The bar wasn’t crowded just yet, the Friday night crowd was beginning to flow in. They had all changed into more casual wear, except for Rossi. The men made small talk until Derek and Emily drove in nearly 15 minutes later. They had hung out before and just decided to ride in together.

Emily and Derek’s arrival immediately added more pizzazz to the event, spurring them to order the first round of drinks. Things were lively after a crushing week at work and the BAU was ready to let loose. Not long after Emily had placed their drinks order, JJ and Penelope arrived.

JJ was wearing a white Tshirt, ripped black jeans, vans, and most importantly the leather jacket. She drowned out any thoughts of doubt with the idea that this was her family and that soon they would be intoxicated enough to simply not care. She trailed slightly behind Penelope’s eager steps but they eventually reached the table. Hotch spotted her first. He gave her an approving nod, a barely noticeable smile gracing his expression.

Emily spotted her next. Before she could stop herself, Emily’s breath caught in her throat and she gasped. JJ had left her speechless for the second time that day. Her gaze passed over every part of JJ’s outfit. She felt her face get hot and Emily shoved her hands in her pockets. By that point, JJ and Penelope had joined the group at their table but Emily had yet to say a word.

“Wow, Jen, you look amazing. That leather jacket is perfect. It’s a very hot look, but also very you.” Emily couldn’t help her awkwardness but the compliments just kept going. She couldn’t find a way to stop herself.

JJ's thoughts staggered with the compliments but she was able to thank Emily. Penelope simply watched the entire interaction with a smirk plastered on her face. After that, the alcohol took no time in arriving at their tables. They all downed those drinks quickly and went after another round. After a couple rounds, JJ pulled Emily out to the dance floor. They let the music take them over, relinquishing their thoughts to the rhythm on the dance floor.

They spent an unknown amount of time dancing, not caring about anything besides themselves and dancing. But soon, that magic started to fade and the women returned to their table. Derek was standing at the table’s side, having noticed the way that JJ and Emily stood closer as they drank more alcohol. Having a brilliant idea, he spoke up as JJ and Emily took a bite of the chips they had ordered for the table.

“JJ, Emily, I have an idea. Why don’t we play a little game? You two are the strong ladies of the BAU, including my Babygirl but right now I’m focusing on y’all. How about the two of you arm wrestle? I want to know which of you is stronger.”

“Derek, we’re both drunk. That’s not a fair game, even though we know the winner would be me.” JJ’s body swayed lightly, but Emily quickly stabilized her.

“I’m down. At least, I’m no chicken.” Emily spoke in a teasing tone, stealing a glance at JJ.

“Oh, no you don’t. Okay, let’s do it. I’m in.” JJ nodded enthusiastically, invigorated at the idea of a challenge to beat Emily in.

They cleared the space and let JJ and Emily get ready. Both did their own ridiculous warm ups, obviously exaggerating it. They set their arms down and were ready to begin when JJ stopped.

“Wait. What are the stakes?” Emily responded, saying something that she’d wanted to do for a long time.

“If I lose, I’ll take you out on a date. If you lose, you have to take me out on a date. How’s that sound?”

Her proposition shocked the entire table. They’d all been waiting for JJ and Emily to stop tiptoeing around each other. This was just not how they expected things to unfold, albeit it would make a great story for the future. Sober JJ and Penelope would have a field day with this.

“Deal.” JJ was drunk too, but that was an offer that was too good to pass up.

With that, Derek set the two up to begin the match. It was very evenly matched in the beginning. Neither woman budged, focusing very hard on their end prize. The team’s eyes shifted from JJ to Emily, and back again. Their grip was strong but no progress was being made. By the time that they had hit the 20 minute mark, Emily could feel the fog in her brain begin to clear up.

At that point, she took a closer look at her opponent. She watched the way that JJ’s blue eyes locked onto their hands, checking for even the slightest of hesitations. She saw the way that JJ’s clothes hung on her body, giving her an air of confidence that made JJ infinitely hotter. Finally, Emily looked back up to JJ’s hair. It’s long, straight stands dropped over her forehead and framed her face well. Emily lost herself in the thought of running her fingers through the silky cut.

That was when she felt the cool, hard wood of the table. Emily’s eyes widened and she looked down. There it was. Her hand was pressed against the surface, pinned underneath JJ’s.

“I win! Guess you have to take me out on that date, chicken.” JJ teased Emily, getting closer to the brunette’s face.

“I get to take someone as dashing as you out? Well, I might have lost but this seems like the better prize.

JJ’s heart soared at the compliment. The way that the word ‘dashing’ rolled off of Emily’s lips made her feel ecstatic. It wasn’t like when men called her pretty after buying a drink. This hair really was working wonders.

They ended the night with a kiss before Emily climbed out of the rideshare and walked up the apartment. JJ ran her fingers over her lips as the car pulled away. Best decision ever.

tag list: @ssa-jareaus @coramvobis @altsvu @hotchshoney @morcias @jelle-jareau @dragisthegame @ssakayprentish69 @dimitrescus-bitch @jay-writes-jemily @bridget19 @hmm-wanky @emilyprentissfangirl @tokoblade @temily

#jennifer jareau #prelude to gnc jj #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #derek morgan #cm #bau #jemily #userjemilyology #mc content hours

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anexperimentallife · 2 years

Text

Okay, I know I'm complaining a lot about health stuff lately, but...

Thank Sagan the doc is letting me drop down to 40 MG of prednisone today. That 60 MG dose has been robbing me of sleep, and I think I was about to chew a hole on the inside of my cheek.

No really, I've been averaging maybe three hours of sleep a night for almost a week now. I am SO done.

They're just throwing everything at me now lol. Prednisone, and because Prednisone suppresses your immune system and I'm apparently immunocompromised anyway and got another sinus/throat/ear infection while on the prednisone, they also have me on antivirals, TWO antibiotics, anti-thrombosis stuff and vasodilators (because blood clots are a risk with long COVID), then extra vitamin supplements, and proton pump inhibitors so all the medications don't eat a hole in my stomach, then like, some stuff that the FDA won't let them make any claims about but that is SUPPOSED to help heal nerve damage, because it MIGHT help, and also some traditional SE Asian herbal meds because my doc is like, well it can't hurt, and it MIGHT help. Oh, and antihistamines, of course.

And probiotics, so the antibiotics don't mess up my guts too much. (I figure the antibiotics and probiotics are just slugging it out; I'm considering setting up a betting pool.)

I feel like a walking pharmacy.

@thesurestthing is picking up all my slack, as usual, but I still do what I can until she yells at me to sit down. I know it's hard on her seeing me like this, and taking care of a baby AND my crippled ass, even at the best if times. And this is definitely NOT the best of times.

Of course I hang put with El as much as possible, too, and although that is definitely something I love, it also gives Zoey a break from being a constant caregiver to both of us.

What kills me, though, is that although, usually if we have to go someplace, I INSIST on being the one to wear El on my chest in her little carrier, and I hate that I can't trust my vision or balance enough to do that right now.

Jhane (local girl who's step-dad kicked her out so, we took her in when I was still on the oxygen machine) was helping out, too (doing the dishes, sweeping up occasionally, keeping the baby occupied when Zoey was trying to cook and I was bedridden, etc.), but she managed to find a job, so she simply can't do as much anymore.

Proud of her, though. I kind of treat her like a surrogate granddaughter, and she introduces me as her fake Lolo. Once she starts getting paychecks she plans to move in with her brother. We'll miss her. El LOVES her ate (ah-tay, meaning, "big sister") Jhane. El can't say ate or Jhane yet, so she just calls her, "Te."

But although we'll miss her, once she moves in with her brother I'll be able to walk around the house naked again, so, you know, trade-offs.

Still, another thing that kills me is that we'd have saved almost enough for the SRRV by now if I hadn't gotten COVID. I know I keep saying that.

Anyway, here's your reward for reading all that lol.

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mediocre--writing · 3 years

Text

i know we always talk about billy easily submitting to his dad but imagine this:

neil is charismatic, that must be where billy gets it, because he has the whole town fooled. nobody sees the demonic beast hiding under human flesh.

neil knows all the neighbors by name. he treats the custodian as he treats his boss. he offers help to old ladies with groceries and helps them cross the street.

people wonder why billy seems to glare at his father and disobey him so often; for how good a man neil is, it’s astonishing how resentful billy is of him.

billy will snark back in public, blatantly roll his eyes, flip him the bird when he’s not looking (and leave it up long enough for him to see when he turns).

the party thinks he’s an asshole who hates everyone. steve can’t believe the amount of disrespect he gives his dad. nancy and jonathan are floored at the vulgar words he speaks about him with, how he talks about him to his face.

max is more sympathetic than ever. how neil is so well known and widely liked by the people of hawkins and how nobody would ever even begin to believe a word of the truth billy could tell.

it’s almost like there’s nothing to be done. because as awful as neil is, there’s some days when billy won’t shut his mouth. and it gets him into trouble.

he’s spiteful and vindictive and vulgar when they shout at each other, but once billy is shoved against the wall, it’s a 50/50 chance he’s gonna fight back.

some days he can’t be bothered. is sick and tired of his own life, he lets the one ‘warning’ hit be enough.

other days he shoves back. he always gets shoved harder after. he’ll rile neil up to the point of maximum damage, but it’s so easy to get him angry it’s almost funny.

billy wishes, every time he gets hit, that some random townsperson would just walk into their living room. or kitchen. or billy’s bedroom. or, on one occasion, their back yard.

nobody sees billy hargrove: victim of abuse. they see billy hargrove: hates the nicest man in town. it’s ridiculous and billy can’t stand it.

he’s almost 18 now. he’s sick of hawkins and ready to leave and go anywhere but where his dad is.

but he wants one last joyride on the anger express. maybe ruin a reputation in the process.

so he acts out one day, while they’re walking down the sidewalk from a store max and susan had wanted to look at before grocery shopping.

billy knows how to get under neil’s skin. it’s one of the things he prides himself in knowing well.

he makes an off handed comment about how shitty it is that he’s being dragged into family outings. “we aren’t even a family,” he’ll say.

neil will give him a look. one that says he’s gonna get it when they’re home. where nobody can see who neil really is.

then billy brings up his mother, how she was so much better than neil could ever be. “she made the right decision to leave you,” he snickers as he watches neil’s fists clench.

a myriad of comments follow. ones about how neil is gonna lose another wife. ones about how he still can’t get billy into place. ones about how awful it must be to enjoy hating children.

there’s one more thing that he’s depending on to be the final fuse to make neil explode, right in broad daylight. bringing in the one thing neil hates most in life: “it’s too bad you’ve got a faggot for a son, huh?” billy says, just loud enough to be almost heard by the old lady walking a few steps in front of them.

when neil’s mustache curls into a pained grimace, billy knows he’s won. knows that he’s got the upper hand of the situation, even if he’s gonna get hit for it.

knows, right when the name “william,” comes out, threatening as ever, that he has won.

so he adds fuel to the fire. “do you think red or pink lipstick would look better with my complexion?” just to see the extra line that forms above neil’s eyebrows.

neil stops walking. turns to look at billy. they’re still in the middle of the sidewalk, max and susan a few feet away, stopped as well. max looks like she wants the floor to swallow her whole.

“well, you know, when i become a drag queen, i’ll have to look good, right?” billy asks his father, and it’s like he’s lost control over his own mouth. “so what’ll it be, dad? pink or red?”

and maybe the alarm bells and flashing red lights in billy’s head should have stopped him from talking. maybe he should have let this grocery trip be about getting weekly groceries.

but something about how he could see his fathers breathing speed up and his face turn so pink it’s almost purple, it’s fun.

with the added addition of seeing some of max’s little friends leaving the theatre at that moment.

right when the boys notice max, neil lunges for billy.

the old lady that had been steps in front of them has turned to see what the thud behind her was, only to see neil holding billy by his collar and his neck, shoved against a brick wall, billy’s toes barely touching the floor.

for being in such a compromising position, billy shouldn’t look as smug as he does when the old lady drops her purse with a gasp or when he sees max’s friends’ faces contort with fear. or when he sees harrington exit the movie theatre as well.

it happens quickly, the fight. billy thinks his brain went black and acted on instinct, he doesn’t remember a thing.

but the bystanders see it all. how close neil leans in to sneer something in billy’s face. how billy laughs, then lifts a knee to hit neil where it hurts.

how he stumbles enough for billy to get on his own two feet.

there’s a quick moment where neither moves, then neil rams into billy, but billy keeps his balance well, planted feet and all, and shoved neil back.

within the next minute, they’re both on the floor and alternating who’s got the upper hand. they’re decently matched as opponents, but neil has the upper hand. he’s taken billy down so many times he knows just how to bring him down physically, like how billy can destroy neil with words.

max and susan are backed up another few yards, susan holding max behind her, but not saying a thing. both are too shocked. this has never happened in public.

the party are watching from across the road, and steve feels like he should do something, because neil just slammed billys head into the cement. and he can’t really tell from how far they are, but billy’s nose is sure to be broken.

“call hopper,” steve instructs the party as he moves to walk across the street.

dustin grabs his arm before he can move far. “billy beat you once before, and now there’s like two of him, steve!”

steve walks over anyway. billy had been straddling neil prior, pushing a finger into his shoulder, before being slammed back to the ground.

there’s many different slurs being spewed from neil’s mouth, many of which change steve’s perception of billy entirely, but that’s not important now.

steve gets to where susan and max are when neil gets a grip on billy’s dangly dagger earring and pulls until it rips out of billy’s ear.

susan is staring, horrified at the scene, and max has shoved her face into the pink cardigan her mother wore, peeking out every moment or so.

when she spots steve, she doesn’t feel relived like she hoped she might, she just feels worse. more people don’t need to be involved.

“max, the party’s over there if you wanna...” steve suggests, motioning over his shoulder where the boys are crowded around a pay phone.

max pulls susan along with her across the road, glancing back at steve, who doesn’t seem to know what to do either.

what is he supposed to do? it’s not like dustin was wrong, steve’s never won a fight on his own.

luckily, right as he sees neil stand up and literally stomp as hard as he could on billy’s elbow, backwards, he hears a siren.

sees hopper’s cruiser pull around the corner and feels like a weight is both equally being lifted off his chest and being pushed down heavier.

neil is standing above billy, a few scrapes and forming bruises, ruffled clothes and a tear in the polo he was wearing, but nothing more damaged than his ego.

billy, on the other hand, is laying face down on the concrete, elbow bending in a way that is not natural and half his face covered in blood from both his nose and his ear.

neil looks only mildly frightened by hoppers appearance, and something about it rests uneasy with steve.

steve feels like he’s having an out of body experience as things happen. like he’s only there to observe, which he kinda is, but it’s hazy.

susan comes back, along with the boys following a shaken up max.

another cop, steve thinks it’s callahan, tries to wake billy up, because at some point neil had rendered him unconscious.

neil looks calm while this happens. he has an almost proud air about him as he watches a man try to wake up his son that he’d beaten so bad, he’d passed out.

it makes steve sick.

it also makes steve wonder if this were a semi common occurrence.

billy is driven to the hospital, mostly because his nose is crooked, his ear is still bleeding, and his elbow is most definitely facing the wrong direction, but they also think he may have cracked a rib or two.

neil is driven off in a cop car, callahan’s, while hopper stays to take stories.

it’s news to steve when susan and max share that this has happened multiple times, just never to such a detrimental state.

max recalls the first time that she’d met billy, he’d been wearing a cast on his arm and refused to tell her how he broke it.

steve sees billy in his head. sees the bruises on billy’s back when they’d play shirts and skins and how he’d chalked it up to a childish fight or a fun night with a girl.

sees how billy would favor his left leg for two weeks during basketball, and only wear sweats, but steve had noticed bruising around his right ankle when he’d change his shoes.

sees how billy seems to have insanely good intuition to when people are behind him or when he’s in a crowded place, always on the lookout.

sees, not justification, but a reason behind the way billy acts.

steve can’t imagine, even if his dad was like neil hargrove, having enough nerve to hit him back. even speak rudely towards him.

he recalls all the times he’d seen billy talk shit about his dad or snark at him in public. now he sees them as acts of bravery and defiance from an abuser rather than impolite and hateful towards a parent.

billy’s been fighting this whole time. and he’s been on the right side of the fight.

#stranger things #billy hargrove #neil hargrove #steve harrington #kinda but not really harringrove but imma tag it anyway #harringrove #mw harringrove #mediocre—writing #lol none of this is proof read so good luck #tw abuse #tw domestic violence #tw neil hargrove #tw gore #kinda??

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fallingappleshurt · 4 years

Text

Project Pink

Sorry Y’all this one got away from me again and I wrote it while tired, again. Anyways here is some badly written shit and have a good period of existence in the universe!

Oh god my brain is going brrrrrrrr

Techno and Wilbur.

It had always been Techno and Wilbur Soode against the world.

Some would make jokes about how it was because they were identical twins, they got ridiculous questions like ‘If I pinch him will you feel it?’ or ‘Can you guys mentally speak- like through your minds?’ They would roll their eyes and say no, sometimes they’d joke around acting like they could read each other's mind or something stupid but it was rare.

They went through multiple foster homes, refusing to be separated from each other, if they ever were they’d find a way back to the other, because it was them against the world.

Then they got placed with Phil Wingraft.

He was different.

They had been through a few foster homes, some were good, some were okay, and one was really bad but Phil was different.

He treated them like they were normal, he was gentle but not patronizing or condescending, he would joke around with them but also became a person they could trust.

He took the time to learn about their interests, he got Wilbur a guitar and took Techno to the library every week. He took the time to recognize the difference between Wilbur’s crazy fluffy hair and Techno more tame but still wavy curls. Wilbur was taller then Techno by half a head but from a distance it was hard to tell. They both had the same shaped face and the same cinnamon colored eyes, the main difference was Techno had glasses.

They stayed with Phil for a year before they were officially adopted and became a family. A two years later he asked them how they would feel if he started fostering another kid, named Tommy.

“I’d be okay with that,” Techno said, shrugging, he hadn’t really processed it but he’d go along with it. Wilbur agreed too, nodding along, it seemed like it would make Phil happy so why not?

“That’s great, it’ll take a few days for the paperwork to go through, then he’ll be with us!” Phil was grinning, this was making Phil happy so this could make Wilbur happy.

Later they were in their room when Techno kicked the top bunk Wilbur was laying on.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, rolling his head halfway off the bed, trying to look at his brother.

“What?” Wilbur asked, looking over the railing.

“Don’t be like that, I know that look, you look like you just ate a suspicious lemonhead,”

“I don’t have a look like that!”

“Stop avoiding the question!” His face softened, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just worried about the new kid, Tommy, I-I don’t know, it just makes me worried, what if it changes things?”

Techno was quiet, he bit his lip.

“I get that, it makes sense but I don’t think anything bad will happen. Phil is great and I don’t think he would push us away, he’s not like that. Who knows, maybe we can have a little brother,”

Wilbur huffed out a small laugh, smiling softly, “Yeah, a little brother, that would be nice.”

Techno sighed contently, shifting back onto his bed. They laid in silence for a moment when Wilbur laughed.

“I mean, it’ll be nice for you, I already have one.”

“Two minutes Wilbur! Two minutes!”

Tommy joined them 4 days later, a little blonde dweeb with baby blue eyes. He was loud, annoying, and hyper. He would talk loudly when Techno was trying to do homework, he untuned Wilbur’s guitar, he said it was an accident but they weren’t really sure, and was overall like a bull in a china shop.

Techno was gonna pull his own hair out, Wilbur had come very close to locking him out of the apartment, they were both going to kill him.

It took them two weeks to fall in change completely.

It started when Tommy asked Techno for some help in his homework, it actually shocked Techno, the kid who was so loud and proud of his accomplishments shyly asking if Techno could help him with his math work was interesting, to say the least.

Techno almost said no, almost teased him, ‘What? The Great TommyInnit needs help? I thought you knew everything!’

Almost.

Tommy looked different, fingers nervously tapping on the packet, trying not to crickle it, eyes darting around, even his voice was shaky.

It reminded Techno when he’d ask an old foster parent for help, only they’d turn him away, telling him to figure it out, that they were too busy.

He didn’t want to be like that.

“Sure, what are you learning?” He pushed some of his papers aside, making room for Tommy’s. Tommy grabbed a chair and sat next to him.

“Algebra,” He said, frowning, “I don’t get it- it’s just so weird,” He put his chin in his hands.

“Don’t worry, Algebra is super confusing-”

“Yeah right, you get everything, you’re really smart!”

“You’re smart too,” Techno offered, not sure what to say.

“Then name a time I’ve been smart!”

Techno short circuited.

“See!” Tommy gestured wildly.

“Tommy I’ve known you for two weeks, I’m sure you’ve done plenty of-”

Tommy groaned, “Nevermind, forget it-” He slid off the chair only for Techno to reach over and grab his arm.

“No, I’m sorry, just let me help,”

Tommy made a face but sat back down, “Fine.”

It had been 2 hours.

“This is useless! I’ll never get it!” Tommy stuck his hands in his hair.

“Just try this last problem, you’re so close!”

“No! I’ll just mess it up again!”

“You don’t know that, just try again!”

Reluctantly, Tommy picked his pencil back up and started on the equation. Techno turned back to his paper, finishing up a definition sheet, Tommy’s mumbles drifting in the background.

“Then add the two to get 16?” He looked up at Techno, who closed his textbook and looked over Tommy’s worksheet, covered in half erased scribbles, doodles, and pencil shavings.

“That’s right,” He grinned, reading over Tommy’s work again, “You did it,”

“Wait seriously? I got it right?”

“Yeah!”

“Yes! I did it!” Tommy pumped a fist in the air, cheering. “Thanks Techno!”

“Anytime nerd,”

Wilbur had been messing around with his guitar, sitting on his bunk, scribbling down music notes on a scrap of paper. He’d write a few phrases down and sing them softly to himself, strumming a few chords.

Scowling, he erased half the page, grumbling to himself; “It doesn’t sound right, why can’t I get it-”

“I thought it sounded nice,” Someone said from the bunk beneath him. Wilbur jumped, yelping, he hit his head on the ceiling. He leaned over the railing to see Tommy sitting on Techno’s bunk, limbs tangled around the latter.

“What are you doing? I thought you were out with Techno and Phil!” Wilbur said, sounding harsher and more shrill then he meant to, Tommy shrugged, “I didn’t want to go to the library today.”

“Wish I knew that beforehand,” He grumbled, going back to his music sheet.

“You seem mad,” Tommy observed, twisting his arm around the metal.

“Yeah I’m mad,”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I can’t get these stupid lyrics to sound right and you just scared the shit- I mean crap- out of me.”

Tommy cackled, “I’m telling Phil you swore!”

“Shut up,” Wilbur grumbled, gripping his pencil tighter. Tommy tipped his head to the side, “I don’t get why you’re angry, those lyrics sounded really nice.”

Wilbur paused, “You think so?”

“Yeah! It was really cool!” Tommy said, starting to come up the latter, he climbed onto the bed with Wilbur, “I liked it a lot!”

Wilbur smiled softly, “Thanks,”

“Can you play it again?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” Wilbur sat up straighter, putting the guitar in a better position , “I don’t remember all the lyrics though,”

He started playing, slowly his nerves of playing in front of someone else started to slip away as he fell into the rhythm and flow of the music. He looked up briefly a few times seeing Tommy, smiling widely, eyes filled with admiration. He finished the song and looked at Tommy, who immediately leaned forwards.

“That was so good! Write it down so you don’t forget! Wilbur that was epic!”

“Really?”

“Definitely!” Tommy leaned back, then quietly added, “And I’m sorry I messed up your guitar the other week, it wasn’t on purpose,” He trailed off.

Wilbur shrugged, “It’s fine, you didn’t do any real damage, just messed up the tuning,”

“I was messing with it cause I wanna learn how to play, could you maybe show me sometime?”

“Maybe, I’m still considered an amateur on most standards,”

“Seriously?!”

Tommy went to the same school as them, he was in the sixth grade while Techno and Wilbur were in 8th, so they saw each other in the halls every once and awhile. The one thing Tommy hadn’t been able to learn, despite the fact he had learned algebra, basketball, and some of the guitar, was how to tell Techno and Wilbur apart when they weren’t standing directly next to each other.

They had tried everything, Tommy would try to memorize the different clothes they wore each morning, the small differences in their hair, how they walked or moved around but nothing worked.

One day when they were in the car on the way home from school, Tommy was pouting, or ‘stewing’, as Phil would say. He barely talked the whole ride home.

“Alright I’ll bite,” Wilbur said, turning around in the front seat, “What’s wrong?”

Tommy frowned at him, “You both completely ignored me all day! I tried to get your attention so many times!”

Techno raised an eyebrow, “I never once heard you call my name,”

“Me either,” Wilbur confirmed, Tommy looked skeptical.

“How do I know that you guys aren’t messing with me?”

“He’s got you guys there,” Phil said from the driver's seat.

“We weren’t ignoring him! I swear, you must have gotten us mixed up again!” Wilbur insisted, waving his hand.

Tommy groaned, “Why is it so hard to tell you guys apart! Hey, could you just make it easier and not be identical twins?”

Phil cackled in the front, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

“It-It doesn’t work like that Tommy,” Techno snorted, half covering his mouth with his hand.

“Oh come on! Just try it!”

Tommy was trying, he really was, but it was so hard to tell them apart. He knew Wilbur’s hair was crazier and he was Taller then Techno and that Techno had glasses but it didn’t help at all.

He’d go to ask Techno for help with homework only to find Wilbur, who also didn’t know jackshit about algerbra, or if he wanted to do something stupid he’d end up accidentally telling his plan to Techno who would immediately veto the idea.

After awhile he just decided to just try and slow down and see if one of the clones had glasses or not and that worked for him, sort of.

A few months later and they officially adopted Tommy into the family, he was an official Wingraft.

They went out and celebrated, laughing and making stupid jokes, it was nice. Then the next day Techno went to the store by himself, taking some of the money he had saved up from chores and searched a bottle of pink hair dye.

Picking out a color was surprisingly difficult, there were so many choices, taffy, bubblegum, creamy, carnation, but he eventually decided on ‘Rose Pink’. He bought a bottle then hid it under his bed, he needed to wait for the right time to do it because the dye had to sit for at least 30 minutes before he could rinse it out.

Phil was working late on Wednesday and Wilbur was going to see a movie with friends after school so he just had to lock Tommy out of the bathroom for like 45 minutes, which he would have no problem doing, and everything would be set.

The day rolled around and he found out that dying your hair is easier said then done, so much easier.

Techno set down so many paper towels in hopes to catch anything that might drip, then there was the process of making sure he got it all and wearing the plastic gloves made everything much harder to handle but eventually he was able to get the dye in place.

He set a timer on his phone then pulled out a book, hoping Tommy wouldn’t try to bust down the door, it didn’t lock but Techno had taken a rubber band from the door handle and wrapped it around the facut to try and give some semblance of a lock. All he had to do was wait.

Tommy was sitting on the couch watching TV when Phil arrived home, Wilbur in tow.

“Hey Tommy, how was your day?”

“Pretty good, nothing really interesting happened though,” He responded, “But Techno has been in the bathroom for like an hour,”

Wilbur raised an eyebrow and Phil asked, “Is he okay?”

“I guess so, I heard the shower running just a minute ago,”

Phil walked over to the bathroom door and knocked, “Tech? You okay in there?”

Tommy heard the door swing open and Techno say, “Yeah I’m fine,” Phil didn’t say anything but Wilbur started laughing loudly, throwing his head back. Tommy turned around on the couch and saw Techno standing there, towel around his shoulders to stop water from dripping onto his shirt, hair the brightest shade of pink Tommy had ever seen.

He froze, much like Phil did, before he broke out into a grin, then a laugh, “Techno what-”

“Now you should be able to tell us apart,”

#minecraft #mcyt #minecraft youtubers #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #philza #sleepyboysinc #sleepy boys inc #technoblr #technoblade #fanfiction #fluff #family dynamics #foster care #sleppyblr #Apples Writing #Finding a Home AU

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ninnodesu · 3 years

Text

“Can I See You?” ch 4 || Modern!Thomas

HEAVY trigger warnings for gore in this one. Don't read if you're really not into the cannibalistic portion. Butchering and shit. And eye stuff and yeah. It's somewhat heavy on the gore.

“Tommyyyyy… I’m bored.”, he shoves you off, probably for the fourth time in just ten minutes. You’ve been leaning over his bulky back for the good part of those ten minutes, getting on his nerves.

It’s been around four weeks since you’d gotten stranded in the middle of nowhere in Texas, ending up in the Hewitt’s household. Slowly, slowly, you’d gotten more comfortable with them, and them with you. You’d contacted your work, telling them you wouldn’t show up for a while due to an accident, explaining everything, except where you were currently staying. You’d gotten chores that could be done sitting down, and best of all; you’d grown closer to Thomas.

You’d had a lot of trouble adjusting to their way of living, however. Many dinners you resorted to not eating, or only eating pieces you saw weren’t meat. But after about a week of doing this, you couldn’t stand the pain in your empty stomach anymore, and you caved. You had to eat, the small amounts of potato and the occasional vegetable not enough to fill you. But you did stay away from Thomas when guests or trespassers came to the house. You knew what it meant, and even if you knew what kind of meat you were eating. You never wanted to see how it was made.

Right now, however, you were bored. And since Thomas was the one who was pretty much around you, or closed by every waking moment of your day, he was also the poor person who had to deal with your boredom. During these weeks, he’d taught you a few words and phrases in sign language. Mostly ones he felt were the most necessary, together with the alphabet. Today, he had transported you up to his upstairs bedroom because he was going to work on touching up one of his masks that had gotten ripped at a recent scuffle with a particularly feisty dinner guest. Apparently, he didn’t trust you to be alone for more than five minutes. He was sitting at the foot of his bed, with you laying next to him, supporting yourself on your elbows.

Pushing you off did nothing to keep you from poking him at his side with your good foot. “Tommyyy…”, he slowly turned his head to glare at you, and you gave him an innocent smile, trying your best to look like an angel who would definitely not do everything in her power to get on his nerves.

‘What’

His hand was slow as he spelled the word out. He was getting annoyed.

“I’m bored.”, you whine.

All he does is shrug and give you a sarcastic thumbs up. You groan and proceed to just lay flat on your back.

The only ones at home today were you, Thomas, and uncle Monty who were probably snoring on the porch. Charlie was out doing god knows what and Luda Mae was tending to the gas station she worked in. So, here you were, harassing Thomas. You pout behind him, fingers tapping on your stomach as you try to figure out what to do. Then an idea strikes.

You shoot up, thankful for the fact that your leg isn't as painful anymore, making it way easier to move around, even if you couldn’t fully support your weight on it yet.

Another attack on Thomas had you grabbing the mask out of his hands and carefully throwing it on the floor. You giggle as you see him just staring at his empty hands, trying to figure out what had just happened. The action was fast enough to shock him before he lifts his head to look at you. You grin like the devil at him and bursts out in laughter when he glares at you, eyes filled with annoyance, but one eyebrow raised in slight amusement. Again signing slow letters towards you. One at a time.

'W' 'H' 'A' 'T'

With his attention, your plan is set into motion . You knew he was really careful with you, meaning he would never hurt you or barely even use any strength towards you. You clumsily climb into his lap, straddling his thighs, making him tense like a statue, hands hovering and fingers twitching nervously making you laugh before attacking his sides with your own. His reaction is immediate and he bursts out in a barking and deep laugh, a wheezing sound sometimes escaping his lungs and he falls down to lay on his back.

Bingo. You thought.

As quickly as you can, you grab hold of his wrists and pin them down under your thighs, making sure they’re trapped between you and his abdomen. Previous knowledge dancing in your mind that despite his strength, he’s a gentleman, and never has he shown any violence towards you, especially not in your current condition. So pinning him in a way that at first glance looks sexual, would make him lose any and all strength.

And you’re correct. You watch him as his eyes shoot open, lips pressed into a thin line, at the realization where his hands are and he squirms. Another devilish grin appears on your face as you lean in close, making eye contact with him before you utter one simple word.

“Talk.”

His eyebrow furrow and his lips turn down and you feel him tug on his arms, trying to get them free to well… talk to you before he shrugs. “No, nonono, big man.”. You sit back up and clench your thighs hard around his hands.

You want to hear his voice. The idea being that if you pinned him hard enough or long enough that he would cave and actually speak to you. You’d heard him laugh just now, so you knew his vocal cords worked. Besides, he’d told you that himself. He can talk, he just chose one day to never do it anymore. So why not take advantage of your boredom and torture him into speaking. It wasn’t like you had any place to be.

“I want you to hear your voice.”, he raises one eyebrow but keeps his mouth shut. “I want to talk to you.”, again, he tugs at his arms. And again, you clench your thighs hard. Thanking whatever power there was that you had good thigh muscles, his response to this action, however, is a firmer tug and you see his biceps flex. But still, he refused to use his full strength, and you knew he was having fun halfway roughhousing with you.

“Can you stop? You’re not getting your hands for this!”, you laughed at him as he pouted up at you. Leaning forward, you poked his lips the pad of your index finger. “All you have to do is speak to me, nothing more.”, he playfully snapped his teeth at you and you nearly didn’t have time to pull back before your finger got caught and he laughed heartily at your reaction, looking really proud of himself at nearly biting your finger off. “THOMAS!”, you slapped his upper arm but laughed with him before you felt a pain in your cast up leg making you slump down next to him to relax it. “You’re no fun.”, you mumble up at him as he just turns his head to look at your own pouting form next to him.

A yawn escaped you, boredom had transformed into sleepiness.

“Hey, dummy.”, you say jokingly and pokes his masked cheek. He makes a face at you that screams “really?” and you giggle. “Nap with me?”, you continue. He shakes his head and spells out “mask” with his left hand, pointing out that it still needed those repairs. “Oh, come on. It’s not like it’s going anywhere, Tommy.”, he still shakes his and you relent. “Fine! Don’t then,” closing your eyes, you only feel the bed shift as he carefully climbs over you before falling into slumber.

--------------------------------------------

Thomas lands rather wobbly on the floor after climbing over you. He pulls the thin duvet cover over you before he - as discreetly as he can - clears his throat and leans in close to your ear. His voice is just above a whisper. Deep, like distant thunder, as he says two words.

“Sleep tight.”

He picks the mask up that you had thrown down to the floor next to the bed and trudges over to his desk, slumping down into the chair to fiddle with it. Occasionally he glances over to your sleeping form with your back turned to him. He shakes his head at your persistence to make him speak to you. He didn’t understand your sudden fascination with his voice, but he shrugged, and honestly? It was kind of endearing that you wanted to hear him speak so badly. It was also a plus to have someone to roughhouse with, so he would keep this charade up and keep his mouth shut for a little while longer.

Checking that you had truly fallen asleep, curled up on his bed, he sneaks down to the basement. He had the rest of a body to cut up together with some cleaning to do. Plus sort a few stray pieces into a scrap pile of usable meat. Tying his apron around his waist, he docked his phone into a small shoddy speaker system he was lucky enough to snag from some travelers a while back. Not long after, music streamed through the basement.

He unhooks the most recent victim and grunts as the man is laid down on the table. Thomas looks over the parts he had yet to cut up to inspect for damages, finding none, he hums in delight, this meant there would be more meat for food. He starts the process by cleaning the body, scrubbing away dirt, and caked blood.

It’s a fast process, and it was a joy for Thomas to cut this man up, he had a good ratio of fat, and it had marbled really well. He nods as he inspects the meat, and makes sure to put this man in the “ special occasions ”-pile. He knew mama would love to have this man for special dinners. He did get disappointed though, as this poor victim didn’t have much around his ribs. Sadly, there wasn't much of a grillable rib on this man, he did save them of course, but they would most likely join the pieces for ground beef in the end.

He wrapped the pieces he got off of the body in packaging paper and wrote the day's date on them, and what parts they were from, and put the packages in the freezer box. Even if the poor man’s face was too beat up to make a mask off, Thomas did find joy in the fact that he could get some, nice and long pieces from the legs. Finishing his work, he picked up a slightly sharpened spoon. Despite his big fingers he gingerly stuck the edge of it under the man’s eyelids. Careful, as not to pop the eyes, he scooped them out, letting them both hang by their respective optical nerves. After snipping both optic nerves off with a pair of sharp scissors, he carefully rinsed them under some cold water and put them in an airtight container. His mother had perfected pickled eyes over the years and he loved them, that, and her beef jerky.

He cleaned up and tossed the leftovers of the body into a crawlspace he’d constructed that led out into the forest, knowing scavengers came to clean the remains he put there so he thought of it as killing two birds with one stone. Returning to the table he tossed a bowl of water onto the bloodied table and wiped it off.

When he finally felt he could end today’s work, he climbed the stairs and headed straight into the kitchen, fingers moving in the air, deep in thought, stomach rumbling. The munchies always hit him hard when working, and he always tries to push them aside. On the rare occasions where he was mostly home alone, he broke the “ no snacking ”-rule his mama had made for him.

Hence, Thomas goes on a hunt through the kitchen. Opening the biggest pantry, he grabs the first box of crackers he can find and basically inhales the entire box. Unsatisfied, he attacks the fridge and finds something he’s been craving for a long time; the beef jerky. Something he also devours like a ravenous animal, he took a few with him into the living room, munching as he went to slump down on the couch.

He loved being alone like this. It was quiet. No Charlie to pick on him, mama wasn’t constantly on his ass for something he had yet to do. Even with uncle Monty home, he didn’t make a sound, probably dead on the porch but most likely not. Knowing no one is there to scream at him for it, he props his feet up on the coffee table and basically lays down across the table and half of the couch, and lets out a deep sigh, almost deflating like a tire. Leaning his head back to rest at the back of the couch, he looks up at the ceiling through half-lidded eyes, his left fingers tapping slightly at his phone in thought, thoughts that seem to slowly topple over to the forbidden kind.

Fuck it. He thought to himself. And pulled his phone out of his pocket only to head straight for his gallery, he did feel gross for saving that one specific video you'd sent him though, he never asked if he was allowed to or not. He just did it. Looking over his shoulder out to the rest of the house he made sure he was really alone, listening for any movement from you upstairs, or any sign of Monty coming back in.

He quickly swipes for the video, his other hand coming to just rest over his crotch at first. Finally finding the video he was searching for, he presses play and sinks down a bit lower in his seat. It doesn't take long for him to grow and harden under his palm and jeans. His eyes raked over your form in the video. He hasn't watched it since you came here, nor has he touched himself since you sent it. His pants quickly became uncomfortable and let out a sigh of relief as he unzipped and let his erection spring free. Your voice sent chills down his spine, as it rings out from the phone’s speaker, he'd forgotten just how nice you sounded, and he wrapped his free hand around his swollen dick.

A shaky breath escapes him as he slowly drags his hand down himself.

Watching when you pump the toy in and out of you in a steady rhythm made a tinge of jealousy spike through him, his fist gripping harder, a finger dragging over the swollen, angry tip to gather a stray drop of precum. A choked groan escaped him as he nudged his barbell. His eyes went out of focus from his phone screen as he looked up in the general direction of his room. Where you were. Thoughts wandering to how your pussy would feel around him, moving his hand as far up as he could without letting go, he squeezed it as he slowly dragged the hand down. A desperate attempt at imitating how tight you must feel around him. His eyes fluttered shut as a particularly lewd moan from you echoed from his phone.

Thomas was desperate. It was so warm. He'd put his phone down as he let his fantasy take hold. Bucking into one hand, the other massaging his balls.

Glancing down at his lewd activity, he imagined your lips around his cock. Your eyes locking on to him as you let his dick spring free with a 'pop' and how your tongue would dance over his head. It was all so sudden. He tensed up, hand slowing down slightly when he came hard as he heard your climax echo from where his phone lay on the couch with a low moan that transferred to a whine, a slight wheeze escaping his lungs. His cum coated his thighs and hand. He just sat there. Hand still around his cock, hectic pumping exchanged for a slow, lazy stroking motion as he caught his breath.

Eyes half-lidded, the post-orgasm grin on his lips slowly fading into a frown as the realization that he now has laundry to do came to the front of his mind.

God damn it.

--------------------------------------------

You slowly turned over to your back and stretched, a tired sound escaping your lips, sitting up, you noticed you’re alone in the room. Looking around you search for the old, shabby clock on the wall across from the bed.

Whoops… two-hour nap, you grimaced as your nap had become longer than you planned.

“Tommy?”, you called out. No reply. You groaned as you knew that meant he wasn’t in earshot and not having your phone with you upstairs, preventing you from texting him or calling him, meant you had to either support yourself against the walls and closest furniture to get down to the main floor, or to scoot on your ass. “Stupid… fucking… dumdum…”, you muttered as you scooted on your ass out to the hallway. Finally reaching the stairs landing you clung to the railing and hauled yourself halfway up it. “TOMMY!”, you screamed and pouted at him when you saw him poking his head out from the kitchen, you just hung over the railing and glared at the big figure who started to emerge around the corner and stalk towards the stairs, his whole demeanor screaming sarcasm and smart-ass, as he sauntered closer. Your pout growing more and more as you saw his shoulders bouncing in what you could only assume was laughter. “Can you just help me?”, you raised your voice and started flailing with your hands that were hanging over the railing, your eyes went wide as he shook his head before that familiar male voice rang out through his phone.

Get your own ass down

That’s the point where you burst out in laughter.

“Fine!”, you burst out between laughs and proceed to sit down flat on your butt again, preparing to just scoot your way down the stairs. You shot Thomas a look that clearly said “watch this”, as you started thumping down the stairs. One at a time, while Thomas just proceeded to stand in the same spot, now leaning on the door frame just shaking his head at your antics.

Thump Thump Thumpthumpthump Thump

And there you were, now laying on your side on the floor at his feet, rubbing your now sore behind with your hand, crocodile tears clear as you look for sympathy he clearly wasn’t giving you as he just took a step over you. Seeing your opportunity, you grabbed one of his legs the second it landed on the floor, your whole body jolting towards him as he stopped suddenly. You laughed hard as you hugged his leg. He turned halfway and looked down at you, a sigh heavy enough you almost felt your hair moving, you looked up at the giant and just grinned at him.

‘Let go’ he signed, but you could see his own grin even if it was hidden behind his mask and you shook your head.

“Let yourself go”, you joked. A yelp escaped you as you felt him lift his leg just like you weighed absolutely nothing and started shaking it to get you off his leg. Your laugh echoed in the house. An action that just caused you to clamp on to his leg even harder. It wasn’t until the main door opened and you both heard Charlie’s angry voice ring out that you finally did let go. The atmosphere changed straight away. “What the fuck is goin’ on?” You didn’t meet his eyes.

During these weeks, Luda Mae had warmed up to you. Her view of you had changed during the period, and by now, you were one of them. At least to her. Charlie still viewed you as a literal piece of meat. Cattle. The next one up on the dinner table. “I was sitting on the stairs to rest.”, you mumbled as you took a hand Thomas had reached out to you to help you stand and you leaned upon him as he helped you walk over to sit down on a chair in the kitchen.

Charlie just grumbled and waved Thomas over to him, saying something low you couldn’t hear. However, you usually knew what that meant; unwelcomed company. Something that was confirmed by Thomas as he visibly tensed up. Hands clenched into fists.

He was getting himself ready. Your Tommy was gone. Replaced by a guard dog ready to attack, he turned to you and you couldn’t help but shrink under his gaze. His whole appearance had changed in your eyes. You knew it was time to go up to his room and lock the door, and you nodded to him. As you stood he swiped you up in a bridal carry and headed towards the stairs. You gulped. You hated when this happened. No matter how well you knew they ate people, or… how you ate people, you never wanted to see nor hear it. It was easier to eat and continue surviving if you just pretended. Pushing that part away and hiding it behind the good times with Tommy.

But every time, you worried. You worried for Thomas, worried something might go wrong, worried that these people might be the ones who take him away from you. You’d had nightmares about that a few times. How you wake up alone in the house one morning, the entire family gone, taken by the police, or just plain dead. Those nights were always horrible. Those nights, you always called Thomas asking him to come down to the basement bedroom. Because those nights, you just needed to feel him close to you. Those were nights you curled up and cuddled around his arm.

Since you’d seen who Thomas really was, since you’d seen the ugly truth about him, you’d deny your feelings. Strictly holding it on a platonic level. But you couldn’t do that anymore. It was time to admit, not only to yourself but also to him.

--------------------------------------------

Thomas stopped suddenly as he felt your hands tug at the neckline of his t-shirt as he went to set you down on his bed. He grunted slightly and took a soft hold of your wrists to try and pull your hands off. You didn’t move. He pulled his body again, no reaction. At least not more than his body going further downward. His brows furrowed as he started to get annoyed. He didn’t have time for this, not now. There were people coming, which meant he had to go to work. Not play your stupid games.

His grip got harder, but when he heard his name being uttered every so slightly by your small voice, he relaxed.

“Tommy…”, your voice was so low. You sounded so small, so… different. A tinge of worry tugged in his heart and he knelt down in front of you, he reached out a shaky hand to cup your cheek and lifted your head up so he could look you in the face. What meets him has his heart do a double-take. You're glossy-eyed, tears too close to be welling over for comfort. A stray strand of hair that had fallen forward is tucked behind your ear, and he looks at you with questioning eyes.

He slowly raises and spells out "yes", wanting you to continue, knowing he doesn't have much time to stay.

Your breathing sounds as shaky as he feels. "I…", he follows your eyes with his own, desperate for you to look him in his eyes. After avoiding his gaze, he relaxes slightly as you finally relent and meet him. But the next two words make him tense up, in a different way. Just as low as before, you whisper them out. "Kiss me." His breathing becomes ragged, still, as a statue, he looks at you as you lean towards him, but stop just inches from the hole in his mask. Breathing hot against his lips. He's nervous, scared, anxious… in love, but his body won’t move. It’s not listening to him. "Please…", the word a mere breath on him. He gulps, and just as he feels the feathery touch of your lips only brushing against his; he's up on his feet.

Footsteps are heavy and hurried. He closes the door to his room and locks it from the outside, something he only does when there are guests coming to the house. Afraid they’ll find you.

His heart is beating so fast, he’s shaky and sweaty. Suddenly his t-shirt feels even more clingy and cramped. He knows he can’t stay like this any longer. He got work to do. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he steps out of his body to let it do what needs to be done. Gone is Tommy, and all that’s left is the shell of a deranged butcherer. A maniac with a chainsaw.

He still has time to change. When he still had his job at the slaughterhouse, he had a green and red striped shirt. A shirt he still chose when they had guests over. With heavy footsteps, he heads down into the basement. After buttoning the shirt up he looked into the mirror, eyes dark and brows furrowed. When things were bad, he never even recognized himself when he looked it, during these bad days his arm guards were the heaviest things he had to wear. His apron was slung over his neck and tied neatly behind his back and the mask he mostly used during these events snugly pulled over his head. The killing mask, as he liked to call it. The one he had to use to distance himself from this.

While waiting for his signal from the main floor, he sat down at his desk. Making sure everything is secured, making sure nothing will get in the way. And most importantly; making sure his chainsaw is in working condition. Which, of course, it is. He took great pride in how he managed it. Always giving it a good clean after every dinner party. He’d memorized every video he’d found on the internet on chainsaw maintenance, since he knew they couldn’t afford a new one if this one happened to be damaged, one time coming close to it. But that was no concern of him at this moment of time.

Suddenly, he heard voices from the floor above him, voices and footsteps. And he figured; it’s almost time. His grip on the chainsaw hardened as he rose to slowly and carefully ascend the stairs, sneaking and making a conscious choice to skip the parts that he knew made creaking noises. Stopping at the top, he peered into the eye hole, installed at one point, to check how many he could see.

Two… two here. Charlie said at least three.

These ones look scrawny, not much to make use of. Shame, he really did want some nice ribs one evening, making him hope the third one had more. But maybe these had enough to make ground beef for burgers… He snapped out of his food-driven daydream as he heard his uncle Monty screaming for him from outside the sliding door. Three hard knocks on the floor were his call sign. And only seconds after the third one had echoed, he burst out. Chainsaw roaring, drowning out any other sound in the house.

At that, the chase began.

He managed to get one of them in the leg at one point, and she went down like a tree. Screeching high enough to pierce the mechanical roar, making his ears hurt enough for him to land a fist on her face to make her shut up.

One down, two to go.

Hauling her inside, he just threw her down the stairs to the basement, where she would have an abrupt awakening at some point, he’d learn that it was best to take care of them as fast as possible. It did taste better in his opinion. And so, he went off to get the other two.

Adrenaline is shooting through him. He’s hungry and wants dinner. And if a man wants to feed, a man has to hunt.

--------------------------------------------

You heard screaming and clamped your hands over your ears. Your own screaming desperate to shut it out. It didn’t help. Putting your head under the pillow and squeezing it around your head didn’t help either. Nothing helps. They were still there. That screaming… That roaring. And the running.

You jumped when, suddenly, someone collided with the door. Desperately tugging the handle, making the door rattle. You had you press your hands over your mouth to keep quiet, to not scream, to not alert them you were in here. Some sick part of you never wanted to leave Thomas. You couldn’t leave. And especially not this way. When you heard his heavy footsteps stomping towards the poor person trying to get away, you started crying. When you heard a squelching, mushy sound, you wanted to puke. And you actually viciously gagged when you saw a crimson stream under the door into the room.

You didn’t want to think about what he had done to the person outside. You didn’t. You closed your eyes hard enough to see white spots dance across blackness and scooted further up onto the bed, hiding behind the pillow, in pure hope that you would disappear from this madness.

It really did feel like days… months, even before you heard the door make a sound. It sounded like a key was pushed into place, and then it clicked open. Lifting your head towards it, you saw him. Thomas. At least it had his body and his eyes. But it wasn’t him. Not Tommy. You started breathing harder, heavier.

Was he really going to see you? Or was he going to see… cattle?

He was drenched in blood, pieces of skin and flesh hanging off belts and buckles around his arms. His face… Not his own. This was not Tommy. This was the monster you’d imagined when you first woke up in the basement. The murderer. The butcher of Texas. And for the first time since you’d woken up bolted down on a table, you were scared. You didn’t want to look at him like this, didn’t want to see this.

“Please…”, you started and followed his eyes as they flicked all over the room, he was looking around. At nothing, and everything at once. Breathing heavy. Hands twitching at his sides before they clenched and unclenched. You tried again, tried connecting to him. “Tommy, please.”, his nickname seemed to make the eyes of someone else snap towards you. “Come back to me.”, even if you were shaking like a leaf, you needed Tommy right now. He looked directly at you before shaking his head, and a dark rumble erupted from him. “No.”, and with that. He left again. Bloody boot prints trailing after him. “Tommy, wait!”, you yelled after him, hoping to once again connect to him, to get him to come back to you.

But to no avail.

-------------------------------------------- It had been an easy fight for him, barely even any fighting back. They seemingly had just given up as they realized what was going to happen. Something Thomas was grateful for. He wasn’t in the mood for fist fighting or getting stabbed again.

His movements were slow and methodical as he cut them up. Loud music echoed through the basement. He was alone, and the cattle dead. So he seized the opportunity to work without his mask. He wanted to breathe free air. It was really rare of him to actually do anything except shower without his mask, even with the one that only covered half his face, but sometimes. Just sometimes, he wanted to.

His prayers were answered though, as the third one did have more to work with. Meaning; he would get those ribs he wanted one night. By the time he started to feel done for the evening, he’d managed to get a whole heap of good meat from the third victim. He wrapped them neatly in package paper, wrote today’s date on them, and put them at the bottom of the freezer box.

After working for the most part of the night, having three dinner guests to take care of, meant it was late. Really late. His mama had come down a few times, reminding him he had to eat, telling him she had checked on you. At one point, she had come down and told him you’d fallen asleep. But you hadn’t touched your food, and she told him she was worried. All Thomas did was tell her not to worry. Hours later, he was done. And finally, he could relax. Finally, he could let go of this persona. He could return to himself again. Very few things made him feel this happy. Every piece of his working attire that came off him felt like a stone leaving his shoulders. He was the only one who could keep the entire family floating, and he knew that.

After hanging the apron upon its hook, after he’d put the armguards down on their table, and after putting his mask back on, he ascended the stairs with heavy steps. He was tired.

And he missed you.

His mama had been a true angel and cleaned the puddle of blood up from under his bedroom door and the whole upper floor smelled of lemon. Just as he reached his door, his brain wandered back to what you had told him earlier. What you had done. What you wanted from him.

And when that thought came back, Tommy was thrown back into his body again, and he opened the bedroom door. His mama was right, you were sleeping, curled up with your broken leg sticking out from under the blanket . You, hugging his pillow with your face buried in it. Usually, when there's been a dinner party, you would sleep in his upstairs bedroom and he in the basement.

But now, things felt different for him.

He checked the time, you'd slept through supper, he just didn’t eat more than a few snacks while working, so he decided it was time for bed. Maybe he could gather enough courage to do what you wanted him to do earlier. Closing the door silently, the lock clicked. Boots were kicked off, jeans were left to fall as they were unbuttoned. The heavy clinking seemed to make you stir, and he saw you slightly opening your eyes. "Come here…", your voice was low, and it held something he'd never heard from you before, causing a small shiver to run through him, but he obliged and shuffled forward.

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Here he was, Tommy. Your sweet, sweet giant. His body loomed over yours, his hair tickled your face as it fell forward making you giggle, something that was met by a dark chuckle as he wiggled more hair on your face. “Tommy, stoop!”, you laughed out quietly, but he shook his head in a mocking “no” and just continued swiping his dark locks over you if only for a few seconds more. You couldn’t help but laugh at his dorky behavior. All traces of the terrifying man you saw earlier, blown out to sea. When he finally did stop, your left hand reached out and cupped his right cheek as you tucked some hairs behind his ear. When you saw how he leaned into your hand and let his eyes flutter close, your heart did a double-take.

He stayed like that, seemingly relishing the feeling of your hand on his masked cheek and the way your finger brushed behind his ear, before he finally opened his blue eyes again, meeting yours. You saw how his eyes quickly flickered down to your lips. Where a small smile tugged, and you repeated the same words you had done earlier when he had left you. Voice low, whispering, words only meant for him to hear;

“Kiss me.”, this time, however, he didn’t run away. Your heart picked up in rhythm as you saw him lean in closer to you, his forehead resting against yours. Eyes intense, yet soft. He acted like he was scared, you could feel how his breathing was slightly ragged, you guessed he was nervous. Craning your neck towards him, to reach, he leaned back slightly. Yeah, he was definitely nervous all of a sudden, the thought of this big giant man, who the same day had killed people being nervous about a kiss, was nothing short of adorable. Again, you stopped just short of your lips meeting his, and breathed out that same word; “Please…”

You looked at him through half-lidded eyes, how his own slowly closed, and then you felt his lips land on yours through the mask. It was soft, not rushed nor forced. You ignored the chappy parts of his lips and relished in just feeling them on yours. Wrapping a hand around his neck, you pulled him down with you so you could both be more comfortable as the kiss deepened. You could easily tell that he was inexperienced, but he did seem eager to learn more, to feel more, and to taste more.

You caressed his neck and back of the head with one hand, the other carded through his hair.

Suddenly, he seemed to have gathered enough courage to take risks, and you felt the tip of his tongue graze your lips, kindly asking for an invitation. An invitation you gladly accepted, a moan escaping you as you finally felt his tongue meet yours. You couldn’t focus on how he tasted, he just tasted like Tommy. He was masculine, and dominant in nature when he wanted to be, and right now? It seemed like he wanted to be, his tongue strong and demanding against yours as he mimicked your movements.

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Tommy happily drank in every moan that came down his throat as he danced his tongue over you. He loved this, he loved this so much. The way you reacted to only feeling his tongue against yours, made him braver. His right hand moved from its place by your head and started traveling over your left arm with featherlight touches. He gently grabbed your hand, pulling it up and over your head, opening up for easier access to your side, from where he slowly moved it upwards, he knew where to go, but then his body stopped listening to him. You whined slightly as his hand stopped just right under your breast, hand pulling back again as his thumb grazed the soft plump underside.

His brain caught up to him and he pulled away from your lips and sat up. Face warm and blushed, and he knew you could see it over the edge of his mask and down his neck because you giggled.

“Tommy, c’mere.”, you whispered to him and he saw how you reached out for his hands, he let you take them, but when he saw that you pulled them towards your breasts again he tugged them out of your grip and shook his head. He wanted to, dear god how he wanted to touch you. He wanted to hear your voice sing for him.

But he was scared. Nervous. The only sexual experience being a halfhearted blowjob from one of Charlie’s ugly hookers out of pity, something he figured she’d done because Charlie had talked about him in his drunken state.

But here you were. He just looked at you shyly. His breath hitched, however, when you suddenly rose up and pulled your shirt off. Bed bouncing lightly as you let your body fall down back on to the bed. Tommy’s eyes went wide as he saw your breasts jiggle softly as you lay back down. You were so beautiful, and he was just a big giant blushy mess who didn’t know what or how or why, if he spoke, he would probably just be a blubbering mess as well.

Again, he saw you reach for his hands, but this time, he shakily let you take them to their rightful place. He gulps as his hands are planted right under your breasts, your own hands helping him cup them gently, yet firmly. His eyes shot up to your face as he heard you sigh deeply at his touch. Your head lolled back, exposing your neck, the sight making him wet his lips with his tongue, an urge to hear more from you hit him.

Leaning down to where your neck met your shoulder he tested his waters and slowly dragged his tongue over your skin, his mask making so he couldn’t envelop his entire mouth over your skin as he wanted. The response he got from you, however, made him truly desperate.

Sitting up, his hand flew to the back of his mask but stopped right as he was about to unbuckle it. Anxiety hitting him hard. You seemed to notice it, though, as you followed him up into a sitting position.

--------------------------------------------

His nervousness was clear as ice. But you could see in him that he wanted this. So you took his hands in yours and brought them down from the back of his head. “You don’t have to remove it.”, you whispered to him, you saw one of his hands come up, guessing he would spell something, you turned your head towards it.

‘Want’

You hummed at it and smiled. Turning back to look into his eyes, you asked;

“Want me to do it?” You dragged your fingers tenderly through his hair until you felt the buckles. You knew that taking the mask off to snap a photo must have been hard enough for him, so now? Taking it off in front of you? It has to be a real-life nightmare. He sighed deeply, then exhale being ragged and shaky. Yet still, he nodded. You felt his hands coming to rest on your waist.

“Okay…” You said before carefully and slowly unbuckling it. His eyes were closed during the whole removal. Finally getting it off, you cupped his naked and scarred cheeks, kissing the worst parts. Giving him the love he deserved, the one he most likely never got. His lips met yours again and you pulled him down with you. It seemed like he had gathered up more courage as you felt his big hands wander over your body, still shaking, they returned to cup your breasts. As one of his thumbs gently grazed over a nipple you lolled your head back at the sudden contact.

That’s when his attack came.

Lips and tongue made contact with your neck and you moaned . A sound that seemed to awaken something in him as he even bit down where your neck met your shoulder. He continued his adventure on your neck until your sounds had begun to die down only so slightly, but it seemed enough for him to go on a quest to hear more.

His mouth found one of your hardened nipples and decided to give it attention, in between gasping and your eyes falling close, you found and took his hand not occupied with anything and led it down… down across your body.

When it seemed he felt where you had led it, his eyes came up to your face to look into your own. His eyes filled with lust, and want, pupils were blown out, the blue of his irises a stark contrast.

--------------------------------------------

“Tommy… Please.”, you sounded so desperate to him, so needy for someone like him. Who looked like him.

He brought his face back up to yours and as he gingerly pushed his hand down into your shorts, he himself made a needy sound as he felt how wet you’ve become because of him, he pressed his lips to yours the same moment his fingers made contact with your wet slit.

A way to cover up the now loud sounds you made as to not wake his family, and because of hunger, he didn’t know he had to swallow every bit of moan you made.

Burying his fingers deep inside you, his thumb rubbed massaging circles on your clit, he panted against your neck, the other hand clamped over your mouth to make sure you didn’t make too much noise, as he moved his fingers in and out of you. At the same time, he slowly ground his erection against your thigh. He wanted to feel you climax around his fingers, he wasn’t entirely sure why, but he needed to. He’d seen you do it to yourself, and a part of him wanted to replace any memory of your fingers with his own.

He grinned when he saw a shaky hand come up in the corner of his eye and he guessed you wanted to tell him something, but the hand he held over your mouth hindered you, so using your hand would suffice. When he saw you couldn’t fully concentrate, he pulled his fingers from you to give you time. Hand dragging your own slick over your breast to mess with you as he cocked an eyebrow in question.

Your breathing relaxed as you used the alphabet to give your word;

‘clit'

It was simple, a request, guidance, and Thomas were more than happy to please. You looked sweaty, but he happily obliged as his hand gingerly returned to massage gentle, but firm and methodical circles around your most sensitive part.

--------------------------------------------

You pant into the palm of his hand as you felt your stomach clench, the muscles in your broken leg tense up. You were close, oh so close, and you wondered if he really was new to this, or if he was just lucky and really curious about everything.

Grasping at the arm wedged between your breasts that held the hand over your mouth, you opened your eyes, only to find his burning gaze locked on your face. He was looking at you like a hungry animal. His eyes sent full body shivers running through you. The familiar pulsing around your clit became worse as his lips parted slightly, his tongue running over his dry lips, removing his hand from your mouth, he captured your lower lip between his teeth lightly and pulled. A deep but raspy rumble came from his throat as he pushed two fingers into you while still rubbing his thumb over your sensitive nub, your eyes went wide and all it took for you to snap completely was one single, vibrating word coming from his throat;

“Cum.”, and you did. You came hard. Your whole body shaking under his. Arching off the bed. You tensed so hard, no word could escape. The only sound being wheezing breathing from your lungs. You went limp, but you knew that this wasn’t the end. You felt his broad hands slide over your thighs in a calming motion, a finger tapping on you got your attention and you opened your eyes.

He just smiled down on you, raised a hand, and signed;

'U ok'

You breathed out a laugh.

"Yeah… yeah I'm alright.", you reached out for him and he happily put his own cheeks into your hands and nuzzled into one of them. You pulled him close to whisper; "I want you, Tommy.", he sighed softly as he pressed his forehead to yours. "I've wanted you for so long." You kissed your way to one of his ears, gingerly biting down on his earlobe, he shivered at it. "Please, fuck me, Tommy.", you said in a sultry voice and he groaned.

You cursed your leg since it hindered you from climbing on top of him. You wanted to trail your lips down his muscles, over his abdomen, and to explore the wonderful trail of hair that ventured down from his belly button into his boxers. Pushing him off the bed so he could stand in front of you, however, worked. The angle was perfect. His height putting your face just above the edge of his boxers. Your hands ventured from his thighs, slowly up his abdomen, a small almost unnoticed gasp left his lips as your fingers brushed over his nipples as you reached his pectorals.

Sitting up, your hands groped over his pectorals. You're stunned at his physique. He was soft where you liked it, muscles strong and firm where it mattered the most. You felt a finger under your chin as he lifted your head up to look at him, a grin danced in the corner of his lips, seeing it almost made you forget how to breathe. His grin made you braver and you let your hands travel downwards again while looking into his eyes. He made one sharp inhale as you slowly run your palm over his clothed erection.

Hooking your thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, you left a trail of kisses across his happy trail, leading downwards until you felt the part of him that seemed to silently beg for you. Neither photos nor videos did him any justice, and you moaned around his dick as his fingers tangled in your hair. His breathing was heavy, snarls and growls emanating from above you the deeper you managed to push his enormous cock down your throat.

Hollowing your cheeks as you drag your lips and tongue up and off of him, your tongue pressing on the underside massaging lightly at his silver jewelry, something that made him practically pull your mouth off of him with a pop. A clear snarl escaped him when you looked up at him with lips wet and swollen, and you couldn’t help but grin like the devil at him . He snarled at how you looked up at him, lips wet and swollen, and you couldn't help but grin like the devil at him.

--------------------------------------------

Pushing you back down into the bed, he helped you off with your shorts before carefully putting your damaged leg up on his shoulder, something he had seen on the internet. Looking down at you, you looked so small and innocent, compared to him. An angel; undressed, needy, wet. And all of that for him. His heart was a drum, dangerously close to escaping his chest.

He felt like such a creep, a pervert who just stared down at your naked form. Hands groping your thighs and giving each of them a delicious squeeze before caressing your abdomen. One part of him was scared that he would damage you, the other part of him, laying over your mound and throbbing in pure need, wanted nothing more than to imprint himself into you. He jolted out of his reverence as he felt your hands wrap around his length, slowly moving over his head, making it wet with precum before you said the words he wanted to hear;

"It's okay, Tommy… I want you.", he nodded and pulled back slightly, letting you help guide him home.

A whine and a haggard groan came from him as he felt you slowly wrap around him, and his head fell backward. Warm, wet, and tight. All he wanted at this moment was to keep pushing until all of him was hilted inside you , but a small whimper from you pulled him out of his trance and he was quick to pull out before you stopped him.

"No! It's okay!", Thomas looked down at you with worry in his eyes, but a few reassuring “okay"s and "it's fine"s managed to convince him, and slowly he pushed further in.

Thomas was soaring at this point. Your walls hugging him in all the right places, your moans and gasps sending shivers down his spine and exploding in his cock. A groan left him as he felt your walls clench when his tongue entered your mouth. Slowly, he started thrusting.

The first one had you gasping into his mouth. At the second, you broke the kiss. The third, a particularly loud moan left you, making him have to clamp his hand over your mouth again. When the fourth thrust hit, he saw your eyes roll back and you arching off the bed, and he took that as his sign to go to town.

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You were a total mess. Your head was bleary, your eyes blurry with joyful tears. Your ass is moist from your own arousal that streamed down your thighs as Thomas' fucked into you as a man starved.

He had hurt first, his dick big enough to split you in two if you were unlucky. But as soon as the pain had subsided, you begged for more.

For "harder" and "faster", words that only spurred him on, his thrusts became deeper, hitting parts inside you you didn’t know could feel good. Making you a blubbering mess, his name tumbling out from behind his hand every time the lewd sound of his hips hitting your wet thighs reached your ears. So here you were, a hand tightly clamped over your mouth to keep you from alerting the family of your activity with tears of pleasure streaming down your face.

Suddenly, you felt even more pleasure as he started rubbing your clit with his other thumb. All you could do was look down at the mess he had made of you and up to his eyes.

Him, just as much of a mess as you, huffing and puffing, hair sticking to his forehead, chest coated in sweat, pupils blown wide and brows furrowed, face contorted in pleasure. The sight made your cunt clench around him, squeezing a wheezing sound from his throat.

His attention to your clit quickly brought the familiar feelings of your orgasm. Wiggling your upper teeth free you to bite down on his hand as you looked into his eyes, your own pleading for release. One hard press and a few circles with his thumb made you snap. One hand gripping the sheet until your knuckles turned white, the other clawing at his arm, you had to force yourself not to scream behind his hand as you came on his dick. His hips started moving in pure desperation, and you figured he was close. He leaned in, and you felt his lips and tongue brush against your neck before that deep, baritone voice of his came out in your ear again; "Haaahhh… fuck." How he managed to make one word feel so filthy, you had no idea. What you did know was that you wanted to hear it again. And again. And again . Wrapping your arms around his neck, one hand entangling in his hair and grabbing a fist full of his dark locks to pull at it to pull his face to yours, your action earning you a delicious sound from him. Tommy is an absolute mess, he’s trembling above you.

And you can’t help but smile at him.

“Are you close, baby?”, you whisper to his lips and he nods fervently as he desperately chases his release. Pulling his hair again, you expose his neck to you. The neck you’ve wanted to taste since you saw his face for the first time. Whimpers begin to tumble from him, adorable desperate sounds of pleasure escaping as you slowly drag your tongue over his neck.

But it’s when your teeth sink into him that he breaks down.

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Thomas pushes himself as far as he can as his release crashes into him like a tidal way, pushing you further up the bed. His groaning voice loud but choked, doing his best to swallow the sounds he makes when his cock finally fills you. The pain from the bite shooting through his body and mixing with the euphoric feeling of your walls clenching around his pulsing cock. He shivers as he feels your tongue lap over the bite mark. Somewhere inside of him, he hopes it won’t leave a mark, though right at this moment where he’s in the process of marking you as his, he doesn’t really care if it does leave a mark.

He’s shaking as he looks down at your equally exhausted form. He gives you a tired smile, an exhausted one, and leans his forehead against yours, your breathing a cold refreshing gust of air at his sweaty face. He could stay in this position his entire life. Pure bliss. But his muscles start complaining, and he hisses as he pulls himself out to collapse next to you, chuckling as you bounce slightly because of his weight dropping all at once.

Poking your cheek to get you to open your eyes, seeing as you’re well on your way to a night of deep sleep, he spells out a question;

‘U ok?’’

He lets out a sigh of relief as you nod tiredly. Even if he had just fucked every drop of energy out of both you and himself, he’s surprised to see you cuddle up into his sweaty chest. Unsure of what to do, he relaxes just a tiny bit as you laugh before taking his arms and wrapping them around yourself. It takes a while for Thomas to relax to the point of falling asleep, but as his brain is slowly registering that you’re not leaving him, and that you actually have fallen asleep in his arms, he lets sleep take him, with his face buried in your hair.

#CICU #Can I See You #modern!thomas #modern thomas fanfiction #thomas hewitt #thomas leatherface hewitt #thomas hewitt fanfiction #tcm: the beginning #tcm #tcm fanfiction #modern au

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