#he built it years ago but i think he just needed time to remember that the lights dont just blind

[jerseymuppet]

I hope mikey knows how lucky he is to have a brother so willing to chase after the very lights that blind him just for the fleeting chance of catching mikeys shadow

#gerard loves his brother so much its a tangible thing #i see it in every line #and i feel it with every crowd that screams famous last words #ive said if before but i think the people you love are your beating heart walking beside you #and if thats the case #the sea of people singing a song gerard wrote full of love for his brother is the alter gerards heart rests on #he built it years ago but i think he just needed time to remember that the lights dont just blind #they illuminate #and what better thing to illuminate then them coming full circle? #idk I’m feeling sappy in this Chili’s tonight #my chemical romance #mcr #mikey way #gerard way #jude.txt

[rosie-writings]

For Just a Moment I'm Whole Again

Request: anon—ghost!Reader falls in love with Colby

Summary: ghost!Reader finds out that her twin flame is Colby who was born decades after she died, and upon meeting him for the first time, she needs his help to usher her on to the afterlife to be free from the purgatory she roams.

Warnings: ghost!Reader x Colby smut, Age Gap, Bittersweetness, light Angst, Fluff, and Twin Flame relationship

Words: 6.6k

No Y/N Use

Title from 'Calcutta' by Sleep Token

A/N: Technically, Reader is 19 while Colby is 27, however she died nearly thirty years before he was born, so who's older?

I stopped crying about it a few years ago.

Maybe a decade or two, I wasn’t quite sure. It’s not that I was upset about how I died, I almost forgot the pain of it all, I was upset because out of everywhere I could have died, it was in a house. 

A lonely house.

After I died, apparently my friends were too traumatized to keep the house, so they sold it. I tried to get their attention. Everyday I tried to convince them that purgatory was real and they forced me into it by leaving. What was I supposed to do alone in a house that no one wanted to buy because a death occurred?

When I found out that they also rumored to their realtor that it was haunted, I wanted to slap the lives out of them. Of course it was haunted; that was your best friend trying to get you to look at me for once before I could never see you again—

I cried for years.

No one bought the house.

I slept in the king sized bed in the room upstairs alone and cold.

There was a hotspot in the middle of the house. 

The house was built upon a particular mineral that ushered in traveling ghosts, and the convenient vortex in the center of it aided their arrival. Occasionally I met other ghosts and other inhuman beings that couldn’t care less about me. They probably had millennia of experience navigating the afterlife’s purgatory on earth while I was only a couple decades old.

I think I died in 1971. I couldn’t remember. 

The day this house was bought, I thought I was saved.

Instead, major renovations took place. They ripped the nostalgic wallpapers off the walls and tore out the carpets that my human and ghostly feet were all too familiar with.

”How about you chose an actually appealing pint this time, motherfucker,” I spat at the contractor who walked right through me in the main hallway upstairs. I rolled my eyes and followed him into the primary suite.

Today was the day they renovated my bedroom.

”I wonder how many years it’s been; you look fucking weird. Do all men have that silly ass haircut or something now?” I asked as I sat on top of the ladder in the middle of the room. “Thanks so much for bringing your tool batteries in here. You don’t need those do you?” I felt their powerful buzzing. I felt the electricity waving through the room and I sucked it all up.

With every minute that passed, I felt stronger and stronger, until.

”Oops—“ I sighed in boredom as I knocked a paint can off the top of the ladder.

The worker whirled around with wide eyes and basically looked at me in mine, but he saw through me. I rolled my eyes again.

“You humans are all the fucking same. God, I was so damn embarrassing as a human. Can’t you at least try to talk to me? I’m so fucking—“

His co-worker called his name and walked in the room.

”What the fuck have you done?” The second shouted. White paint pooled on the concrete below me.

”At least you didn’t put floor in yet—“

”It just-It just fell! I didn’t even touch it! I put it up there like 20 minutes ago and-and it just fell!” The second worker grumbled and picked up the emptying can.

”They said there was some poltergeist activity in this house which is why it took fucking 50 years for it to be sold again.”

50 years?

My lack of heart nearly fell through the floor. 

I sat on the ladder looking through them this time. 50 years? I was stuck here for 50 years with nothing to do? No one to talk to? I wanted to cry. Ghost cry sessions weren’t as satisfying as human cry sessions.

I had to get out of here.

I had to—

I stole the energy from all their equipment, but it was still not enough. Even with the electromagnetic energy pulsing through my spirit, the hotspot wouldn’t take me. 

“Come on,” I grumbled. I looked through the vortex and saw spirals and spirals of unveiled spirits traveled through this purgatory called earth, and yet none would grab on to me. What was beyond? “Please! Take me! Get me out of here!” 

I broke down crying again. 

This was the biggest chance I had in order to leave and not even it was enough.

I curled up in the middle of the floor there and cried until I fell asleep.

Later, when the sun was high in the sky and the house was vacant, I woke up. 

As I stood, I appeared in the master bedroom so I could sleep in the bed—

“What the fuck?” I asked to nothing.

The walls were white, the flooring was finished with deep warm floorboards, and the bed frame was a plush cream color with a creamy duvet. 

“They did this fast. I wonder how long I was asleep for.” There was a dresser, two nightstands, and a desk that all matched in a deep brown, practically black, wood finish. “We go 50 years in the future just to be completely devoid of all color. Jesus fuck.” I curled up in the bed regardless. “Oh my god,” I moaned loudly. “Actually, I take all that back. I will give up any color in my life to feel this mattress if only for a second. This is how technology should be used, oh my god…” 

I don’t remember finishing my sentence, I fell unconscious again.

I woke up to the sound of voices. 

I shot to the foyer in a blink of an eye and I saw a family. A mom, a dad, three kids, and a dog, and I nearly cried on sight.

”Hello! Oh my god, yes thank everything good and mighty. You bought this house? I’m not alone anymore!” The dad walked through me. “I’m so excited—Oh my god your dog is so cute!” I fell to my knees in front of the Husky and it howled a talking fit at me, and when I raised my hand to pet it, it ran away from me so fast that it slid across the floor on its nails. “I’m not that scary, I don’t think,” I sighed and stood up again.

There was a girl, probably fifteen or sixteen, who walked right past me with something in her hands.

”Oh what’s that?” I asked as I followed her. The rectangle in her hand illuminated back at her like a TV screen and her thumbs furiously typed on some kind of keyless keyboard. “Holy shit! Is that one of those phones that all the futuristic movies talked about? We have them in the real world now?” I nearly screamed. I plopped into a vacant barstool next to her. “I would have loved that,” I grumbled. I devised a plan to steal it from her in her sleep and play with it all night. 

I watched as she turned it on again.

”A passcode?” I questioned and I was ready to memorize it, but suddenly a blue light scanned down her face and it unlocked by itself. “Now that’s—“ I got out of my seat and backed up from her. “That’s weird. Can that detect ghosts?” 

“Come on! Let’s go in the pool!” I gasped when the younger boy ran right through me and out the backdoor. I smiled when he cannon balled in the pool out back. 

“Lukas! It is 40 degrees outside, get your ass in the house now!” His mother screamed, and I laughed.

“Oh yeah, they put so many cool pool toys in the chest out there,” I told him as I stepped foot outside. “You would love them in the summer though. It’s pretty cold—“

I must have walked too far out of the house, because in a blink of an eye, I teleported back in the middle of the vortex.

”God help me,” I sighed, and I started to devise my game plan to get into that girl’s device in the night.

It wasn’t easy. 

The moon was high in the sky, and I walked in the girl’s bedroom cautiously. Not like she could see me, but I could make noises and I didn’t want to scare her.

Her phone lay on the table next to her bed with a cord coming from it, and she slept soundlessly next to it. I picked it up. 

It illuminated to life and I gasped. I read the time and date.

2:35am, December 20, 2021

”Oh.. my god…” I whispered slowly.

2021? That wasn’t a real year. It had been 50 years that I was—

How was I going to get out of here? I needed out. First I needed this girl’s device. I grabbed it, and when it scanned my face, it said it was the incorrect Face ID.

I pointed it at the girl cautiously, and after a few recalculating aims, it unlocked. I brought it back to me and saw so many colors I didn’t know which to tap first. The entire screen responded to my touch.

I flicked through the squares on the screen and with each one, I read more and more paragraphs about people. It looked like the news or something. I couldn’t believe how amazing this device was at taking photos. 

“I don’t understand,” I whispered. The squares where it seemed like I could communicate with other people intimidated me; I didn't understand who I was talking to so I tried to get out of it and go back to the original place where all the squares were. I accidentally swiped and it moved the screen and I tapped out of it. That was how you got out of it, got it.

I found another app that was red. I clicked it. This time photos with short captions were the only things I scrolled through. After a second, I clicked one to make it larger, but instead, it brought me to another screen and a video began playing.

The audio was so loud and clear, I gasped and tried to figure out how to silence it. The girl disturbed next to me. The button I clicked turned the volume down.

A video played of the same photo I clicked on—

Those weren’t photos, they must have been paused videos or something. I watched and listened and it was actually entertaining. After the video ended, I clicked another.

And then another.

And before I knew it, the sun peeked over the horizon. The time read 7:30am. I had been watching these videos for five hours. 

I put the phone down and walked out of the room. 

I would have loved 2021.

I did it again the next night.

I sat there on the floor against the nightstand and watched more videos. 

Video after video, I started to remember the names of the people who posted them. I didn’t remember the rabbit trail I went down; recommended video after recommended video led me to one that made me stop my jumping around.

It was a video of two idiotic boys messing around in a haunted house.

Now, I never was into haunted or spooky things when I was alive, and being dead now, I would say that I had a pretty large say in and experience in what these boneheads talked about. 

I didn’t expect them to be so respectful. And considerate, too.

I watched as they talked to spirits in the house, and it was startling to watch humans interact with us spirits from their perspective. I forgot that that was all they saw.

I forgot how limited I was when I was trapped in my human skin.

How silly they were; it didn’t matter that they would have been seven years older than I was. Most of the people were children on YouTube, and they were the worst of them. 

Sam and Colby certainly made me laugh, and their means of communicating with ghosts even more so. 

There were some videos that scared me.

I liked the two a lot, and I didn’t want them to get hurt or manipulated by demonic forces. I had seen demonic forces firsthand, and humans were stupid enough to summon them. If I was afraid of them, humans definitely should have been.

The way they assumed everything was as sinister as they did made me laugh the most because the majority of spirits communicated with them were teasing them and cracking jokes. The boys took everything too seriously, but that was why they were so good.

They cared.

But one of them, Colby, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of. It was like I knew him. Warmth spread through me, and for the first time since I died, I was overcome with the need to leave. The pull teased me, beckoned me. 

I was over forty years older than him; I would have never met him, so how did I know him? 

Why did I need him?

I needed someone who cared about me like they did for spirits. I needed a human who cared to come in and help me. Certainly there were other humans out there who could help me like Sam and Colby, but they definitely weren’t as loud or had as much faith as they did in their capabilities. 

I would be lying if I said I didn’t cry when that family left the house two days later. It wasn’t because I would be lonely again but because I couldn’t drown myself in Sam and Colby’s videos. 

Or in Colby’s appearance and voice.

Hopefully someone else would stay for a week and I could use their phones to watch YouTube again.

Two weeks later, the house was booked again.

I finally learned that the house I was trapped in was turned into something called an AirBnb and I supposed that it was a house rented like a hotel. 

The same routine spun into effect.

A new visitor spent the week here, I drained their batteries in everything they brought, I drowned myself in YouTube (to be honest, I drowned myself in the force that was Colby’s voice), and spent endless time spinning around the house in boredom wondering when the human chosen to save me would come.

They would come and help one day, I knew it.

The front door opened. 

I was out of the bed in a flash and appeared in the foyer to see the new visitors. Two men walked in the house, and I wondered what on earth they were up to for arriving near two in the morning. 

It was three years after I first learned what YouTube and social media was. I was ingrained in the politics, culture, society, and hyper-communicative world that was 2024. 

I toed the fence. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to stay here and live as a free spirit in 2024 forever or be taken into the next spiritual realm. I knew I couldn’t stay forever, and with every year that passed, I felt the fabrics of my spirit being taken away into nothing. 

I needed help.

When I came spirit to face with the two new visiting men, my entire world flipped upside down.

I knew them.

They were the ones with the YouTube channel. 

They were—

”I know we said we would do some stuff before we go to sleep, but I literally—“

”No, I know,” the other sighed. “I’m so tired too. We got here a lot later than we planned.”

”We should just sleep then wake up a bit earlier than we planned to have more time to do what we couldn’t now.” The other nodded lazily.

”Yeah, we can do that.”

”Night, Colby,” said the blond one as he walked up the stairs.

”Night, Sam,” said the one I stood next to in between the foyer and the living room.

If I had a heart, it would have pumped loudly in my ears, and if I had a tongue, it would have dried up. Ever so slowly, I turned and looked at Colby as he pulled things from the backpack he had placed on the couch. His back faced me. 

And I couldn’t control myself, the intrusive thoughts won. I wondered what he would do if I—

At the sound of his water bottle crashing into the hardwood floor, Colby whirled around with wide eyes and watched as it rolled to a stop.

“What the fuck?” He whispered. I gasped when he walked through me. I turned and watched as he picked it up and placed it back on the table. He watched it.

With a smile, I didn’t take my gaze off his face as I knocked it back onto the floor. He took two steps back. 

That was when the realization dawned on me. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. When I felt him, when I was near him, it made sense. The pieces shoved together painfully.

“Uh… Sam?” Colby called. 

“What?” He called cautiously as he came from his room. “What’s wrong?”

”I—I swear to god, this water bottle fell off the table deliberately. Like someone knocked it over, twice.”

”Really?” He asked hesitantly when his feet hit his floor. At this point, they both stood in front of me and I crossed my arms in boredom. I was nearly as tall as the two; they were a lot smaller in person.

I was tall for a girl; almost five foot nine.

He placed the water bottle back down.

I stared at it. Humans were so dumb. I watched their anticipation knowing full well I wouldn’t satisfy them. 

“What is happening, I swore it happened and it’s not now which means it’s not like the table is slanted or something.”

”That’s weird,” Sam said. 

“You can go back to bed, sorry—“

”No, you’re fine, stupid,” Sam laughed as he went back.

Of course when he was halfway up the stairs with his back turned I yanked it off the table. Colby already left to the couch though, and so when Sam turned around quickly, he froze when he realized Colby was completely out of reach.

”See? I told you!” Colby cried.

”Oh shit… Yeah I have no idea how to explain that.”

”Wanna get a rem pod and the camera or something?” Colby asked.

“Maybe if something else happens.”

”Okay, okay,” Colby said, and I watched in surprise when Sam walked back to his room. They must have been tired then.

That didn’t mean I couldn’t mess with Colby until he went to sleep.

”You guys are idiots,” I said as if I expected a response. “Are you actually staying up or are you—oh,” I gasped when he turned around and walked through me before I could react. He picked up his bag and walked up the stairs. I sighed. 

“That answers that.”

I peeked around the door. Colby stood in his room. I watched as he situated the things from his backpack. Those were some fancy cameras, small ones for that matter, and it looked like he charged the batteries. My eyes couldn’t pull from his skin though. He only wore his black jeans.

He turned towards me and I watched as he walked to the desk in his room. I intently focused on his face and his tattoos. He was so pretty. But he looked so different. I walked into the room and stood at the desk with him.

”What are these?” I asked and I touched the devices on the desk. Then, I gasped as his hand went through mine. My hand paused and I tried to feel the warmth. What would have been my hand burned with warmth, and I didn’t pull it away. 

Colby froze in his place and stared at his hand. It burned cold.

But then he turned from the table and went back to the bed.

Now, never once in my life have I snooped. I’ve never pried, intruded, or watched anyone when they didn’t think they could be perceived. But I couldn’t leave his room. I froze in my place as I watched when he pulled his pants off. I couldn’t focus on anything else except his body. The way he moved, settled in the room, got in the bed, and plugged his phone in; every decision and every thought process was so painfully human.

I liked him a lot. Too much.

I wanted him to know I was here too. 

The last time I tried to communicate with humans was with my best friends after the accident happened. After, their realtor was a bitch. There was a medium who was more so a dumbass who came to communicate with me. I scared her, and perhaps that went wrong. That might have been why it took so long for this place to be renovated. 

I needed to talk to Colby. I wanted him.

I never wanted anyone as badly as I wanted him.

I stood in front of the desk where the devices were strewn about, and as he read his phone, I touched one of the devices. 

I recognized one. It was a radio of sorts. One of the mediums who tried to communicate with me used it. Perhaps they were here to try to talk to me anyway.

I turned the spirit box on.

Immediately, Colby sat straight up in his bed. His phone was forgotten on the sheets. I laughed and watched as his confused eyes scanned the room.

”Hello,” I laughed. Then I used energy and found the word on a channel—

Hello

Colby looked around the room.

”Um, hi?” He said.

If I had a body, I was pretty sure the feeling I had was akin to my heart falling out of my ass.

“I know who you are, you publish on YouTube, right?”

I know you

Colby’s face turned with distrust. 

“What—Are there actually spirits in this house?” He asked. I rolled my eyes.

”Obviously. You’re so dumb. I thought you know how to talk to us—

Duh…

He scoffed and his shock turned into an amused expression.

”What’s your na—“

Don’t be stupid

He stopped talking and his eyes widened.

”How do you know me? I’ve never been here.”

”You literally have 11 million people watching you on YouTube, don’t be silly,” I sighed.

You make videos

”You’re seen my—“ He gasped and thought for a moment. “How old are you? How long have you been here?”

For a long time

”I’m supposed to be nineteen,” I sighed.

Nineteen

”Nineteen—Holy shit wait, someone—the owners said a nineteen year old died here in the 70s—“

”That was totally me.”

Me

Colby looked at the spirit box on the table and I smiled.

“Yeah,” he gasped nervously. “Are you the only spirit in the house?”

”Only one that lives here, anyway,” I scoffed.

Only one

”I’m sorry you’re alone.” I froze. 

“What did you say?” I asked quietly, timidly. Silence. It defeated me. 

It had been over 50 years since the accident and in all that time, no one apologized.

No one said sorry about my death or that I was alone. Not a single person had the empathy. Colby stared back at the spirit box. His eyes fell from it. He looked around the room in thought.

Suddenly, the urge ever too heavy came over me. 

I glided straight over to him and I sat on the bed.

He shot up with his eyes wide. 

If I had eyes, he would have looked right into them.

”Are-Are you on the bed with me?”

”Yes,” I confidently said and tried to use all my energy to tell the spirit box—

Yes… On this bed…

”Holy shit,” Colby whispered. 

I felt the way his heart skipped.

The way his skin lit on fire.

I moved forward, and when I did, his skin fell cold.

”Did-Did you just touch me?” 

“I’m on top of you.”

And it was true. I straddled him. I held his face in my lack of hands, and the warmth coursed through me like an electrical current. I needed him. He tethered me back into reality; the human world. That urge and that desperation to move onto the spirit realm died the moment I touched him.

Top

”You’re on me?” He rested his weight on his hands behind him. When he pushed his hips forward, a gasp left me because I felt the pressure. 

Familiarity.

“I remember you, Colby. I know you, we knew each other—‘

Colby

”Why did you say my—“

I know you

“You know—oh shit,” he gasped. My vision hazed. My perception of my surroundings grew blurry as if I was about to sleep.

Heat coursed my body, and I held onto him to keep from falling asleep.

”You feel really good,” I gasped. I didn’t think about this.

We knew each other

“What?” He gasped as his body went rigid. Sexual things were so far from me. I figured that when I moved onto the spirit realm, more doors to explore sexuality would open. I never came across another human I viewed as desirable like him. 

I never came across a human or spirit that felt as familiar as he was.

I knew he already had two female ghosts who liked him and messed around with him.

Good

”What’s good?” He gasped again. This time, it sounded like he was more breathless than anything.

”You.”

You

”Is that you making me feel like this? Are you touching me?” I moaned when I thrusted against him over and over. “Holy fuck—I just got so… What am I even doing?” Colby sighed more so to himself and then he laid himself back down against the bed. I gasped when he moved through me. 

I looked down at him as his forearm rested across his forehead. His face was flushed and eyes were closed in thought.

I couldn’t deny the pressure under me. I knew he was painfully hard under me, but I had no intention of leaving or letting him do it himself. I looked down and couldn’t look away from his body. It was on fire, and the pressure in his underwear grew and grew.

I wish I could feel him for real with my hands and my skin. 

“Holy fuck,” he moaned this time, and I moaned as well. He sounded so good like this. “I feel so crazy. Please tell me this is you doing this to me and not me—“

”I’m doing it. I’m touching you, Colby. Let me touch you.” Colby moaned again and again as I thrusted against him. 

It’s me

His eyes shot open again.

Let me touch you

“Fuck, okay—holy shit—okay you’re-you’re actually real.”

”Yes,” I laughed. “I want to see you feel good.” 

“If you’re actually real, get off of me and make me stop feeling like this—“

I was on the other side of the room in an instant. Colby sat up with a flushed face. 

“What the fuck,” he whispered. I felt as the arousal in his body diminished. “And…” He mumbled hesitantly. “And if you’re real, get on top of me. Turn me on again.”

I blinked and I straddled Colby’s lap. 

“Holy fucking—ugh.” And his head tossed into the pillow and eyes rolled back.

”Fuck,” I gasped as I watched him throw his arm across his mouth to conceal his moans.

Immediately, his arousal built again, and I thrusted against him over and over.

”You’re making me—Oh my god, don’t stop please,” Colby gasped. 

You feel good

”Fuck,” he gasped.

He looked up at me and I swore he saw me. He didn't look through me, and I wished I could touch him.

Kiss him.

”You’re going to make me come.”

“Oh my god yeah, I want to see you come,” I mumbled. I would resurrect myself from the dead just to kill myself again if he knew I said that so I tried to hold in the energy. I didn’t want the music box to pick up on anything.

I tried to pull his underwear down. It was too difficult, too heavy. I was too tired. My gaze flashed around the room.

His phone. 

I focused my energy on his phone and took the energy from it. The strength boiled and boiled in my being until I opened my eyes and watched as the waistband of it ever so slightly pulled back.

”Oh my fucking god—“ Colby gasped, and I cried out in surprise when he sat up straight and kicked himself away from me. “You-You fucking pulled—Are you trying to take my underwear off? Oh my god—You’re fucking real. You really are—“

“Colby it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you I want to make you feel good—“

Don’t be scared

”What?” He gasped and whirled his gaze to the spirit box.

Make you feel good

“I’m—“ he paused. He looked around the room. “I’m not scared. I can’t believe you’re communicating so well with me.”

”I’m taking power from your phone,” I said towards the spirit box.

This cell phone

Colby looked back to the spirit box.

”My phone?”

Using energy

”Oh, you’re taking the energy from my phone? Let me plug it in so you can take as much as you want—“

Yes

”Okay—“ He groaned as he leaned over and plugged it in. He left it on the table next to the bed. I didn’t give him another second to say a sentence. I pushed down against him and he drew in an uneven breath. “I can’t believe I can feel you.”

”Can you feel this?” I grinded down on him, and his arm caught another moan behind his mouth.

“Holy shit—I think I felt-I felt that. I’m so—oh my god!” I pulled at his underwear again, and this time, I pulled it halfway down. “I’m so…” He sighed into a moan, and I felt the way heat traveled down his body. His temperature rose, and I couldn’t look away. Not a second passed that I didn’t utterly consume the image of his real life human body under me.

I pushed again and again, and before his hand could reach into his underwear, he gasped a rather louder moan and spilled in the fabric. 

I quickly tried to pull it back again, and this time, his underwear pulled halfway off. 

“Oh my god—“ I gasped as I watched the rest of his fluids cover his stomach.

”You just fucking—You actually took them off,” he gasped breathlessly as he gathered himself together after his orgasm.

Pleasure washed through me as well, but it wasn’t as tangible as it used to be when I was alive. I was on fire, and I wanted more, anything more, but it was impossible here.

Then the tug.

I wanted to move on.

It was as if this window of pleasure piqued my interest, and I knew that if I moved onto the spiritual realm, I could live again. I wouldn’t be trapped in this purgatory.

Colby was so cute though. He was familiar; he looked like he was mine. We were each other’s. I wanted him to myself, but there was no way I could take him with me. He needed to finish living as a human first.

Then maybe I would hunt him down and rescue him from his purgatory so he wouldn’t have to live like this for 50 years like me.

“Did you leave?” Colby whispered.

”No. I’m right here.”

Here

“Okay,” he sighed and relaxed into the pillow. “I can’t believe I just had sex with a ghost—wait,” he gasped and looked around the room. “Did I fuck you? That’s so—What the fuck…”

“No, I just touched you. I wanted you to feel good. I can’t feel good until I move on.”

No… For you… I don’t feel good

”What?” Colby gasped. “You don’t feel good?”

”I can’t.”

Can’t

”Oh, because… Is sex only for human bodies then?”

”No,” I said, and reminded myself to be concise for the spirit box

No

”When I escape I can feel something again.”

When I escape

”You’re trapped here?” Colby gasped. The gears turned in his head and excitement welled in me.

”Help me out, please.”

Help me

”Help you do what? Do you need to move on?”

”Yes! Help me to the spiritual world.”

Yes

”Where do you need me to—”

Spirit world

”Holy shit,” Colby whispered. “You want me to help move you out of purgatory? Is that what this house is for you?’

”Yes!” I exclaimed. 

He understood!

Yes

”Well then I’m getting up and telling Sam.”

If I had a body, I would scream and cry for joy.

Also, if I had a body, it would burn alive at the sight of Colby cleaning himself up, so I left the room and waited in the hallway with welling excitement. 

“You’ll actually use the spirit box and not make me look like a freak in front of him, right?”

”Yeah, I’ll talk to him,” I laughed.

Yes

”Good,” he scoffed as he pulled on clothes. 

“I promise.”

”Dude, that’s crazy if it’s true.” I watched as Colby told Sam what had happened and conveniently left out the part where I touched him. If he didn’t want Sam to know, then I wouldn’t expose him in that way. “Let’s see if she actually communicates as accurately as that,” Sam said as he turned on the spirit box. “Would we need to try the Estes?”

”Maybe we can,” Colby sighed. “There was a vortex downstairs, did you see it?”

”No I didn’t actually,” he gasped. “Do you want to do Estes there?”

“I’m getting bored,” I grumbled.

Let’s hurry it up

”Whoa!” Sam cried when the box spat those words out at him.

”Yeah,” Colby laughed. “She isn’t very patient.”

“Are you trapped here like Colby sai—“

”Yes!”

Yes

”Oh my god.”

”I told you!” I watched the boys as they grabbed their things. “Let's do it now.”

And as they walked through me towards the staircase, I froze with realization upon feeling Colby's body. It ached with excitement, nervousness, and…

Longing?

I followed them and listened to his heart and the rushing of his blood. Something tuned to desperation flowed with it. 

It would have been much easier for me to navigate life as a human if I could feel someone’s physical attraction to me like I could feel Colby’s. I didn’t think that was possible, especially since he couldn’t see me. For all I knew, they could still be on the fence about believing that I existed.

But I couldn’t deny the way he felt. The way Sam felt. Sam didn’t hear me or feel me the way Colby did, but I could tell by the warmth of his palms and the racing of his heart that he didn’t linger in denial anymore. 

“I’m not even sure how to start this,” Sam said as he sat in the chair. He volunteered himself to be under the Estes method so that Colby could lead the interaction. I stood next to Sam in the middle of the vortex; the darkened mirrors holding endless hypnotizing space hung on either side of us. 

“I know, it’s fine. I’ll figure it out when we get there. I’m pretty sure I just encourage her to move on and she uses energy or something. We’ll see.”

Sam pulled the blindfold down. Headphones placed over his ears. 

I felt the energy from the spirit box shrill to life.

“Did you follow us down here?”

“Yes,” I said quickly. “I’m here.”

“Here,” Sam’s monotone voice spoke for me.

“Okay good.” Colby’s voice softened. I wanted to leave, I wanted it more than anything, but I also wished I had more time to listen to Colby, to be close to him. Every time I was near him, I zapped with electricity; a desperation I never knew. What would it be like if I was human? If we knew each other back then? What would it be like if we were born at the same time in the same state?

“Why are you afraid to move on?”

“I—All this time I wasn’t afraid, I just didn’t want to leave the human world, but now I can’t leave you. I want to stay with you, Colby.”

“Oh wow…” Sam muttered. 

“What?” Colby said quickly.

“That was a long—Those were a lot of words,” he laughed sheepishly. “Um…” I repeated what I said but paraphrased it to make it easier for the box to pick me up. “I wasn’t afraid of it.”

“You aren’t?” Colby gasped. “Why haven’t you—”

“Missed people.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Let me stay with you.”

“What?” Colby paused this time. “So you didn’t move on because you missed people and now you want to stay with us? Is it because you haven’t talked to anyone except for us—”

“No,” I grumbled. “I want you, Colby. No one else.”

“You, Colby.”

“Me?” He whispered. “Why do you want to stay with me? You can’t do that. You need to move on–”

“I wish we had time together then you would understand.” I wished that I could cry like humans did at that moment. I cried, but no pressure relieved me.

“We could have had more time.” Colby’s body froze as he stared in shock at Sam. Or maybe he stared through him. He wanted something to look at; he couldn’t see me. I wished I could reveal myself to him, but I didn’t know how.

“Why do you want us to have more time?”

“Because we would have been together. I could have actually probably loved you.”

“I would have…. I didn’t catch— Love you.”

“I would have loved you…” Colby whispered. “It’s too late,” he told me, but the quietness of his voice sounded like he figured it out for himself. 

“I can see you again, Colby.”

“See you again… Colby, dude it keeps saying your name.”

“I know,” Colby spoke absentmindedly. He looked like he was in a trance more than Sam was even though he rocked back and forth in the Estes method. “Are—Do you know me?”

“Maybe in a past life. We can find each other in the next.”

“Past life.”

“Holy shit.” His voice was quiet and I wanted nothing more than to hug him. I stood face to face with him in the blink of an eye. 

“I will see you soon, Colby.”

And I kissed him.

He blinked quickly and warm surprise flooded me when he licked his lips once.

“See you soon.” He didn't know what to say. I felt the tension in his throat.

“Don’t cry. Now tell me to leave and then you can find me when you’re done living here.”

“Help me leave.” Colby shook his head.

“No–”

“Please help me, Colby. I need to go on. You can’t stay here forever. I’ll be able to see you still and you’ll be able to feel me until one day you’ll see me for the first time. Well, for the first time in this timeline. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Please help me… You will still… I didn’t hear—Oh, You’ll still feel me.”

“I—I don’t like—”

“It’s okay, don’t be scared.” I stood in the vortex again. “Help me leave. I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t be scared. Help me leave.” 

“Okay,” Colby said as he shook himself out of it. “It’s alright, you can move on. Spirits leave this house, move on to the next life.”

That tug returned, but now it was unavoidable. The mirrors lulled me into a beckoning trance.

“Move on and be free from this house.”

The mirror pulled me in, the house was unreachable now.

“Love you.”

As Sam pulled off the blindfold, Colby’s eyes darted towards mine from where I traveled through the mirror, and from the look on his face—the pure focus on me, drift of his tear filled eyes across my face—he saw me.

Then all I saw was light.

A/N: I took a much needed break. Not to info or trauma dump, but my mom moved about four hours away from me a week ago, and I only found out three weeks before that. After helping her move, it's been pretty hard for me since we've only ever lived at most 10 minutes from each other. Thanks for being patient, and I'm going to hop back on that writing grind because I miss it!

Also, Comment if you would rather read multi-chapter fics on Tumblr or Ao3. This will help me navigate where to post if I do not cross post.

✧˖*°࿐

Taglist (Comment to be added):

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@graceciesiels22

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@xxsecretscenekidxx

@thedeadlynights

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#sam and colby #colby brock #18+ only #minors dni #rosie writings #rosie hub #colby brock smut #colby brock x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 writer

[sweetestdesire]

A FRIEND IN NEED

WARNINGS: hair pulling, extreme domination, loss of virginity, innocence kink, etc. 18+ readers only

PAIRING(S): Trevor Zegras x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: in which Fem!Reader has an awkward question to ask Trevor Zegras.

Y/N tugged at the straps from her top and sighed. She'd spent so long thinking about this moment; she couldn't believe she was actually going through with it today. Her knuckles tapped against the door, and she took a step back. Her heart was thudding so loud the beats pounded in her ears.

While she waited for the sound of footsteps, Y/N smoothed her hands over her skirt and turned to gaze at the street behind her. Sunlight bounced off the windshield of her parked car, a dog barked in the distance, the smell of a barbecue wafted on the wind. Just a typical Sunday for most people, but not for her.

Y/N shoved her hair back from her face and told herself to keep it together. She flattened her palm against her stomach, closed her eyes and concentrated on deep breaths. With each second that ticked by, she considered the wisdom of running away and pretending this had never happened.

It was a stupid idea anyway, really stupid. Y/N opened her eyes and took a step towards the edge of the porch. She bit her lip and hesitated, the pull to disappear just as strong as the urge to stay. Her stomach dipped as the door swung open at her back.

"Y/N? What are you doing here?"

Y/N summoned the courage to turn and look into the eyes of Trevor. The rumpled state of his hair gave the impression he'd just climbed out of bed at two in the afternoon. His muscled arm rested on the door frame above his head. Trevor wore black boxer briefs and nothing else. No matter how long she stood here, Y/N knew she'd never get tired of looking at him.

Ignoring his question, she elbowed her way past him and stalked into the house. Y/N dropped her purse and keys onto the hall table and turned to take in the living room. Her eyes swept over the coffee table littered with empty beer cans, the couch with a pair of jeans draped over the back.

The door clicked closed behind her, and Y/N flinched at the finality of the sound. She paced the wooden floorboards and nibbled her thumbnail, then yanked her hand away when she remembered she'd given up the habit years ago.

"Y/N, stop for a minute." Trevor snagged her elbow and turned her toward him. "What's going on?"

Y/N covered her face with her hands. She massaged her forehead and took a couple of fortifying breaths. Was she really going to do this? "I have a question to ask you."

"Must be a good one. You can't even look at me."

Y/N forced her hands away and met his eyes. He'd moved over to the couch and sat on the edge with his hands dangling between his knees. His watchful eyes followed her every movement.

She huffed out a breath. "I'm just going to come out with it, okay?"

"That's usually the best way." Trevor waggled his thumb at the empty space beside him. "Do you want to take a seat? You look like you're about to pass out on me."

Y/N shook her head. "No, I'm fine. I just really need to say this." Her heart hammered, and the pressure built inside her until the idea of telling him almost became appealing. "Trevor, I'm a virgin.”

Trevor leaned back against the couch and clasped his hands behind his head. Amusement glimmered in his eyes, and a lazy smile played about his lips. "Really? With your uptight, highly-strung personality, I never would’ve guessed."

A flush warmed her cheeks as the urge to run gained strength. "I knew you'd react this way."

"Then why did you tell me?" He kept his eyes on her.

It took some effort, but Y/N managed to push her embarrassment aside and approach the coffee table. She shoved a couple of empty beer cans out of the away and perched on the edge facing him. "We've known each other a long time. I've been thinking a lot lately about-"

"Stop stalling." Trevor leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He stroked her leg with his fingertips. "Out with it."

Y/N blew the hair from her eyes and glanced down at her hands. "The thing is, Trevor..."

"Yes, Y/N."

"I want you to take my virginity."

The sudden silence weighed heavily in the room. Y/N held her breath and trained her attention on her fingernails. Now it was out there, there was no taking it back. Ever. She waited for him to laugh, to ridicule her, but nothing happened.

"You're not saying anything." She glanced up and saw his guarded expression. "Why aren't you saying anything?"

"Jesus, I'm in shock." Trevor dragged a hand down his face. "You can't just throw it out there like that."

"You told me to!" Y/N pressed her lips together and focused on staying calm. "I just want to get it out of the way. I'm twenty-one years old. I'm sick of having this hanging over my head."

His eyes passed over her. "I'm sure you could find plenty of men willing to help you out with your little 'problem'."

"I don't want just any man." Y/N chewed her lower lip. She closed her eyes and held her breath for a moment. When her gaze met his again, she found some of her courage had returned. "I want you."

Trevor cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. "Why?"

"I want my first time to be amazing." She saw the heat flare in his eyes, and it gave her hope. "I know with you it will be."

"I'd ask if you were serious, but in all the time I've known you I've never heard you crack a single joke."

Y/N slapped her palms on her knees and pushed herself up to stand. "I knew it was a risk asking you a question like this. I half expected you to say no." She stepped over his bare feet and forced her shoulders back. "Forget it. I was an idiot to even ask."

Trevor gripped her wrist as she passed by, tugging firmly enough to bring her back a step. "I didn't say I wouldn't do it."

Her breath caught, but she told herself not to get too excited yet. "You'll help me out?"

"Yeah, it'll be a real chore. I'd like to say I'm the type of guy who wouldn't take advantage of a woman in your situation, but who would I be kidding?" He fought a losing battle to keep the smile off his face.

Y/N yanked her wrist free from his grasp and scowled at him. "This is one of the reasons I chose you; your ability to have sex and move on as if nothing happened. Also because you annoy me enough I'm not likely to develop any feelings for you."

Trevor stood and flicked his fingertip down her nose. "You underestimate my appeal, Y/N." He propped his hands at his waist and looked her over. "So, are we doing this now, or did you come here to make an appointment?"

She raised her eyes to the ceiling and blew out a loud breath. "I'm beginning to wonder why I came here at all."

Trevor laughed and gave her upper arm a quick rub. "Why don't we just get it over with?" He intertwined his fingers with hers and pulled gently.

Despite her better judgment, Y/N gave in and followed behind him.

-

Y/N discovered his bedroom was filled with modern, masculine furniture. The bed was unmade, she'd expected that, but everything else had its own little place. A faint smile shaped her lips as she glanced around at his things. She'd never had a reason to be in here before. It made her feel closer to him.

Y/N wandered over to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. She flicked off her sandals and curled her toes into the beige rug. The sound of running water pounded on the other side of the ensuite door. Her leg jiggled, and queasiness settled in her stomach.

"You could join me, you know." Trevor’s voice echoed in the shower.

Y/N shook her head at the humor in his tone. "I think I'll just wait here.” She called back.

"Suit yourself."

She smiled absently and glanced over her shoulder at the bed. The navy linen looked cool and inviting, and she knew the pillows would smell of him.

Y/N nibbled on her lower lip and weighed up her options. Undress and climb in, or wait until he came out of the shower? She decided lying naked under the covers appealed to her more than sitting here growing increasingly nervous.

She stood and moved into the center of the room. Y/N drew a breath, crossed her arms over her body and tugged at the hem of her stop. As the cotton fell from her fingertips, she tried not to dwell on the sexual experience his former girlfriends must have had, or worry too much about her awkwardness killing the mood.

Y/N adjusted the strap on her black bra and peered at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed with anticipation and her stomach muscles contracted with each quick breath. She gathered her hair in a thick bundle and shook it out behind her.

Y/N unsnapped the button on her skirt and hooked her fingers in the waistband. Dressed only in her bra and a pair of black lace panties that rode low on her hips, she gazed at her reflection. With the unfamiliar room at her back, it almost felt like she was watching someone else.

She blew out a controlled breath and reached behind her to unsnap the clasp on her bra. The flimsy material slackened across her chest, and she slid the straps down her arms, letting the bra drop from her dangling fingertips.

As cool air whispered over her skin, Y/N closed her eyes and tried to imagine how Trevor’s hands would feel roaming her body, touching places only she had touched; his weight pressing down on her, his hardness pushing into her. She tentatively stroked her nipples, sighing when they tightened beneath her touch.

Y/N knew he'd do everything possible to make this moment pleasurable for her. The knowledge stirred a deep longing inside her. She grew bolder and smoothed her palms over her breasts, lifting and massaging the tender flesh. Her hand slipped over warm skin and textured lace.

She trailed her fingers between her thighs, realizing that soon his fingers would be there, teasing, stroking. Y/N knew what it was like to reach that sensual peak, to feel control slip away. It would be different letting Tom take that control from her.

Her head tipped back, and she breathed softly. Y/N wanted this, it thrilled her to admit that she wanted him. If she could just push aside her anxiety, everything would be perfect.

"I'm actually at a loss for words." Her eyes shot open at the sound of Trevor’s voice.

Embarrassment washed over her as she spun around to face him. No matter how much her fingers itched to protect her modesty, Y/N forced her hands to stay at her sides. "I didn't know you were there."

"I know." Trevor stood in the open doorway with a towel wrapped around his waist and his damp hair in disarray. His eyes flickered over her. "That's what made it so damn sweet."

Her cheeks grew hot. Gone was the teasing expression she'd grown so used to over the years. Gone was the laughter in his eyes. His jaw clenched as he walked toward her. Y/N watched him approach, taking in every detail so she could relive this moment later on in her mind. When he stopped before her, she drew in a shuddering breath.

Trevor reached out his hand and stroked the hollow at the base of her throat. His eyes met hers, and he ran his fingertips lightly between her breasts, trailing further down to her stomach. His touch was so soft it barely registered, so intense it left shivers in its wake.

“You're stunning.” Trevor said.

Y/N pressed her lips together to stop them trembling. "Thank you.” She whispered. Her forehead was level with his jaw and she had to tip her chin to meet his gaze. "You'll have to tell me what to do, teach me what you like. I really don't know what-"

"Y/N." Trevor clasped her face in his hands, brushed his thumbs over her cheeks. He dipped his head and pressed his lips to her ear. "Relax."

She sighed at the calm assurance in his tone. He encircled her in the strength of his arms, holding her close, his fingers flexing against her spine. Y/N breathed in the scent of him. She'd never been so turned on by the simple smell of soap before.

His mouth moved over her throat, dropping lingering kisses here and there. "You've got nothing to worry about.” Trevor said. "I'll take care of you."

"I know." She closed her eyes and leaned against him. "I know you will."

Trevor cupped the back of her head, nibbled her lower lip. He flicked his tongue over the closed seam of her mouth. Now his arms were around her, Y/N found it wasn't all that difficult to let go of her unease. She linked her fingers at the back of his neck and pressed her lips to his to feed the desire welling inside her.

Trevor made a small hum of approval. His mouth moved with hers in a kiss so slow and thorough her body loosened and melted against him. Her tongue ventured inside his mouth. He groaned and shoved his fingers into her hair. His other hand swept down her back to curve over her rear, and he pressed her to him, rubbing her firmly against his erection.

Y/N closed her eyes at the sensation, pulling her mouth from his to explore the line of his jaw with her lips. She discovered a sensitive spot behind his ear that made him shudder. It pleased her that despite her inexperience, she could still do that to him.

"More." Trevor breathed the single word against her cheek and dragged her lips back to meet his.

His tongue plunged inside her willing mouth, caressing and exploring the moist depths. Trevor slipped his hand under her heavy fall of hair, cradling the back of her neck as he slid his lips over hers.

Y/N whimpered as she clung to him, overwhelmed by his passion. They were so close she could feel his heart race against her chest. She swept her hands over the muscles of his back, wanting to touch every part of him.

Trevor tore his mouth from hers, breathing heavily as he gazed at her. "You're driving me fucking crazy."

Y/N skimmed her hands over his chest and smiled uncertainly. "I know how you feel."

They both faced the mirror, and her smile disappeared as she blinked at the image staring back at her. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen and pink. Her eyes had a wild look about them. He'd wrapped his arm around her waist, and her breasts jutted upwards over his hard flesh.

"Look at you." Trevor swept her hair aside and licked the back of her neck. "You're beautiful."

She sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder. "When you look at me like that, I feel beautiful."

Trevor ran his hands over her stomach in slow, hypnotising circles. Y/N watched the movements as if in a dream. Her skin warmed under his touch, and her nipples hardened almost painfully, desperate for his attention. She saw the way his eyes had darkened with need, noticed the steely line of his jaw as he held his desire in check.

Trevor cupped her breasts, running his palms lightly across her nipples. Her mouth parted and a soft moan slipped free. The sight of his tanned, masculine hands cupping and caressing her with such care almost pushed her over the edge. He thumbed her nipples, pinching the buds gently until she cried out.

Y/N held her breath as their gazes meshed in the mirror. Although she knew what was coming, it didn't stop her from jolting against him when he cupped her pussy. Her back arched, and she bit her lip. She'd never been touched by a man so intimately before.

"You feel unbelievable.” Trevor said. “So soft and smooth." He held his hand still and kissed her neck.

It didn't take her long to start moving against him. Trevor massaged her gently. He pushed his finger through her lips, sliding it up and down the length of her, spreading her moisture in agonizingly slow strokes. Y/N knew without touching herself how wet she'd become, how wet he'd made her.

Y/N unconsciously pressed her ass harder against him. Her pussy ached for more. He groaned and dipped his finger inside her. She closed her eyes and let her head drop forward.

Her hair swept over her shoulders, draping around her. "Fuck, Trevor." She couldn't put into words the feelings he stirred in her. Not just the touch of his hands; his presence, his strength, the knowledge he'd keep her completely safe.

Trevor moved his attention to her clit, teasing and taunting the swollen bud. She jerked softly and sighed out his name. "Look at me.” He said. His voice was husky and deep, thick with desire.

She lifted her head and shoved her hair from her face. Y/N met his eyes and leaned back on him. Her hips rocked against his hand. Her lips parted as pleasure raced through her. She raised her arms and clasped her fingers behind his neck.

Y/N’s breaths grew heavy as they panted from her. She could feel the bulge of his cock against her lower back. She was on the verge of begging him to put it inside her. He rubbed her moisture over and around her clit, his fingers sliding through her wetness. Sensation grew inside her until she didn't think she could take any more.

"Let go.” Trevor murmured against her ear.

That was all it took in the end, the sound of his voice coaxing her toward orgasm. Her hips bucked against his hand, and she wanted to double over at the intensity. Trevor held her firmly upright as their eyes met in the mirror, and she strained against his hold, letting out a long, low moan.

Trevor kept rubbing, extracting the final few tremors from her. Y/N gripped his forearm and whimpered as the waves subsided. His fingers grazed her sensitive clit as he pulled his hand from her panties. She shuddered and turned in his arms.

“That was amazing." Y/N swept her hair back and fought to catch her breath as her eyes flickered over his face.

"God, you turn me on. Watching you, touching you... I almost lost it when you fucking came."

Y/N basked in the warmth of his gaze, her body glowing with the pleasure he'd given her. He dipped his thumbs into the waistband of her panties and shoved them over her hips. She stepped from the bundle and her arms wound around his neck as he walked her lazily backward.

Trevor pulled her close and let his lips roam languidly over hers, building the fire inside her all over again. As Y/N took the opportunity to rid him of his towel, her reaction to him suddenly registered. She'd been prepared for awkwardness, for her inexperience to lessen the moment. Trevor didn't seem bothered by it at all.

Trevor rested his knee on the bed. His palm curved around the back of her neck as he lowered her onto the mattress. Y/N scooted backwards against the cool sheets until her head met the pillow. He leaned over her and planted his hands either side of her body.

Trevor took a moment to drink in the view of her. Her nipples tightened and her skin heated under his gaze. Her body shifted restlessly beneath him until desire and curiosity got the better of her. Her eyes darted down his body, to the pulsing shaft between his thighs. Her cheeks flushed at the sight.

“I want to touch it.” Y/N said.

Trevor straddled her and ran his fingertips from her neck down to her stomach. He leaned in and flicked his tongue over her nipple. A sudden smile broke across his face. "Touch what?" He asked, raising his brows.

Y/N closed her eyes. He understood full well what she meant. For some reason he wanted her to say it. "Your cock.” She said softly, building the courage to look at him again.

His elbows came to rest either side of her head. His chest brushed hers as he pressed a kiss to her lips. "Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are right now?" Trevor asked. He moved his mouth over her throat, licked the lobe of her ear. "Anywhere, Y/N. Touch me anywhere."

She smiled. Y/N looked into his eyes and spread her palms over his chest. She caressed his nipples, taking pleasure in the tremor that ran through him. "I like your body. Always have."

Trevor took her mouth with gentle abandon, pressing his tongue against hers. "I've wanted to get my hands on you for years.” He said against her lips.

"Really?" Y/N let her palms glide over his stomach as he hovered above her. His muscles clenched beneath her fingers. She loved the way every small touch garnered a reaction. "I never would've guessed. You've always been such a pain in the ass."

"What can I say?" Trevor lowered his head and licked her nipple. "You bring out the best and worst in me." His breath was warm against her skin. He drew her nipple between his lips, suckling on the tender bud.

Her mouth dropped open and her hips slowly undulated. She followed the line down his stomach until her hands wrapped around him. His groan of appreciation vibrated against her breast. Trevor was hot and hard. He gave a shallow thrust into her palm and tugged on her nipple with his lips.

Y/N used her thumb to spread the slick droplets. "Am I doing this right?"

Trevor lifted his head and nipped at her lower lip. "You're doing everything right.” He said. He lowered his body until his chest pressed against hers and her breasts flattened under his weight. "You're perfect."

Y/N smoothed her hands over his back as tenderness swelled inside her. He pressed his lips to hers and sank his hands into her hair. His tongue swept over hers, his erection nudging her stomach.

She writhed beneath him, desperate, yearning for something she'd never experienced. Y/N parted her thighs and broke the kiss to gasp as he settled between them. His cock probed her entrance, and she wedged her hand between their bodies to touch him again.

Her fingers encircled his thick length, and realization had her brows drawing together. "Are you going to hurt me?"

Trevor pulled back from her and kissed the frown from her forehead. "I'll try my best not to." He scanned her features as if searching for something in her expression. "Do you still want to do this?"

Y/N nodded and squeezed his length, sliding her thumb over the slick tip again. "I don't want to wait any longer. I need you inside me."

Trevor made a deep sound in his throat and captured her mouth with his. His lips moved over hers patiently, thoroughly, stirring chaos inside her all over again. She swept her hands down his back, curving them over his ass. He rubbed his cock against her pussy, making her hips move and her breath catch as he slid inside her just a little.

Trevor moved his attention to her breast, working her nipple into a taut, aching peak with his thumb. She felt the mounting pressure. Bit by bit he pushed further inside her, and she stretched to accommodate his size. It wasn't an easy fit, but his hands and mouth kept her so busy she could barely concentrate on the discomfort.

When he finally bottomed out, Trevor pulled her hands up beside her head and interlaced his fingers with hers. He leaned back and looked into her eyes. "We made it."

Y/N smiled and wrapped her legs around his waist, hooking her ankles at his lower back. "It feels strange, almost like you're too big."

He gave a soft laugh. "Y/N, you're too good for my ego." Trevor squeezed her hands and pulled back so he could slide into her again, slowly, as if he was worried he might hurt her.

Y/N bit her lip and closed her eyes, surprised to feel the burn, but each time it got a little easier, and it didn't take long for her to adjust. His thrusts soon became slick and smooth, and she started to feel pleasure rather than discomfort. She opened her eyes to find him watching her.

"Am I hurting you?" Trevor asked.

"No." She pulled her hands from his and shook her head with a smile. It wasn't nearly as bad as she'd expected, and she couldn't imagine sharing this moment with anyone but him.

Trevor leaned on his elbow and wrapped his other arm around her. He pulled her close as he thrust gently in and out of her. "Does my cock feel good inside you?"

She looked into his eyes while his hips pumped against hers and nodded. "Does it feel good for you?"

He gave a hard thrust that had her mouth dropping open. "You have no idea."

Trevor buried his face in the curve of her shoulder and kissed her throat. His cock withdrew almost all the way and plunged back inside her. Y/N tilted her head on the pillow and gasped. The gentle pumping of his hips made her moan; his powerful thrusts made her stomach flutter and pleasure streak through her.

Y/N had a suspicion he was holding back, taking it slow for her benefit. She could feel it in his bunched muscles and the strained breaths against her neck. "Can you... can you do it harder?"

Trevor kissed the underside of her jaw, flicked his tongue over her chin. He dipped his hands into the sides of her hair and held her still. "You want it a little rougher?" His eyes met hers and a corner of his mouth lifted in a sexy smile.

The deep tone of his voice sent a shiver running through her. Y/N barely recognised the breathy whisper that came next. "Yeah, I do."

Trevor rested his forearms either side of her head and ground his hips against her. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you?" He pressed a kiss on her brow and shoved his length hard inside her. "Tell me when to stop."

She slid her hands along his back, hooking them over his shoulders. "I won't."

He spoke softly against her ear. "I like a challenge.” Trevor said.

With that, he scooped her rear into his palm and lifted her slightly from the mattress. He raised his chest from hers and braced himself on one hand. Trevor looked into her eyes and drove his cock inside her.

Y/N felt her back bow with the pressure. Her initial pain was long forgotten, now replaced by the most intense pleasure. Her head tipped back, and she cried out.

"You like that?" Trevor watched her closely. Through the haze of pleasure it dawned on her that he was keeping a close eye on her, looking for any signs of discomfort.

"Yes." Her breaths panted from her. She turned her head restlessly on the pillow and pushed her breasts together, teasing her nipples.

"You want more?"

Her body twisted and she let out a loud moan when he altered the angle of his thrusts.

"I guess that answers my question.” Trevor said.

Trevor settled back on his haunches and slid his hands up her thighs. He gripped her waist and pulled her back against him to meet each glide of his pumping hips. Y/N met his gaze. The intensity of the eye contact alone almost made her lose the little control she had left. Her hand drifted down her stomach, fingers dipping into her heat.

"You're gonna make me cum doing that." Trevor’s mouth curved in a half smile. His fingers dug into her hips and tension gathered in his forearms.

For some strange reason, she felt proud of herself. Y/N returned his smile and rubbed her fingertip over her clit, sliding through her wetness. An ache built inside her, gaining pressure until she felt she might burst. Her lips parted, and she watched him through half-closed lids.

"Jesus Christ, Y/N." Trevor leaned back over her, pressing his body along the length of hers.

Trevor crushed his mouth to hers as she shuddered beneath him, keeping her in place with his arms braced either side of her. Y/N wrapped her legs around him and gripped his forearms. He let loose then, the breath shaking from his nose as he kept his mouth joined with hers. His cock pulsed as he thrust hard and emptied himself inside her.

Y/N leaned her head back and stared up at the ceiling. She swept her hair from her forehead and stroked his back while her pulse settled. Her body felt used, but in a very good way. She shifted beneath him, uncomfortable and awkward now their desire had been spent.

Y/N didn't want to overstay her welcome, but she didn't want to run like a scared rabbit either. She'd been under no illusions going into this; she wouldn't start entertaining thoughts of a future now.

"What happens next in these situations?" Y/N asked softly. "Am I supposed to go?"

"Like hell." Trevor kissed her neck and rolled onto his back, dragging her with him. He encircled her in his arms and held her close. Her heart hammered with hope as she leaned on his chest. He swept his thumb over her cheek and gazed at her. "Stay with me, Y/N."

Y/N watched him in silence, surprised by the look of uncertainty in his eyes. She'd never known him to be hesitant about anything. He'd been tender and kind today when she'd needed him most. He'd looked after her like she'd known he would.

A slow smile spread across her face as he urged her mouth down to his. Maybe she'd entertain thoughts of a future after all.

#trevor zegras x you #trevor zegras x y/n #trevor zegras fanfic #trevor zegras blurb #trevor zegras smut #trevor zegras fic #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras fluff #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x drysdale!reader #trevor zegras one shot #anaheim ducks

[mountymase]

you don't get to tell me about sad

file two - lewis hamilton

a/n: i’m so unserious i cannot even- 🥲 i didn’t plan to post this today but i was on a mission. it’s my first lh44 fanfic and i’m actually proud of it. hope you like it! although it ends open to a part two, i truly don’t plan on writing, just so you know! 🤍

tw: angst, cheating, sort of toxic love/relationship, divorced parents, mentions of anxiety, twin pregnancy. a bit of “illicit affairs” inspiration.

1.449k words

Everything pointed towards one direction: you getting heartbroken in the end. Heavily heartbroken, to a point, it’d become hard to breathe and face the world as if he’d never been part of your life - how would you be able to forget him and the way the corners of his eyes wrinkled when he laughed, the way his hands instantly searched for your face to kiss you whenever you said something that’d make him laugh?

Lewis was drawn to you and your energetic personality the moment you met, at an FIA gala years ago, and everything about your relationship moved on so fast you were swept off your feet. Like a hurricane, Lewis Hamiton turned your life upside down in a way you’d never be able to explain - and that’s how it went for the next four years. You built a house, a life, a family.

When the twins were born, you thought life couldn’t be more complete, but then Lewis won his 7th World Championship the same year and you made a surprise appearance the moment he stood on the highest spot of the podium, where he belonged. You still remembered the way his eyes widened and jaw dropped, but his facial expression quickly switched to the happiest you’d ever seen him - the sparkle in his teary eyes and the way he never stopped looking at you. As soon as the champagne ceremony was over, Lewis rushed to find you, without even caring how all the cameras had their focus on the two of you as you kissed passionately.

“Where are they?” he breathed against your lips, asking for the twins. You motioned to the garage with your head, where your parents stood with each baby in their arms. Lewis sighed in relief, two weeks were too much time away from Daisy and Jude - the chubby tiny humans wiggled their feet seeing their papa coming closer and that’s how you were living the life that was meant for you.

Things got wonderfully overwhelming when, much to your and Lewis’ surprise, the two lines on five different pregnancy tests were as clear as the Spanish sun outside, as you enjoyed your summer vacation. The twins were just eight months and still needed all of your attention - with Lewis away most of the time and nowhere near thinking of retiring from F1, you had to count on with yours and his parents, so your constant absence during the new season was deeply missed by everyone.

You genuinely thought this new baby would add more joy to what was already a happy life - Lewis could barely contain his excitement and made sure the whole world knew about the family’s new and unexpected addiction, but by the time you were about to give birth again things had drastically changed.

He wasn’t your Lewis anymore, but you wouldn’t be the annoying wife, you wouldn’t pressure him so you’ve watched the love of your life slowly distancing himself from you as a husband. Lewis didn’t touch you anymore and the passionate kisses were no longer there. You knew very well how much it affected him seeing Red Bull’s and Max’s dominance on the sport that he, not long ago, was the absolute favourite - but something you two promised the day before you tied the knot, was to always seek each other whenever trouble approached and you felt like it could have an impact on your marriage.

Now, sitting on the expensive sofa of your Monaco luxurious penthouse, with your three children still asleep, you waited for the sun to rise as your eyes couldn’t move from the sparkling diamonds on your ring finger. The engagement ring, the wedding band, and the eternity ring Lewis gifted you when the twins were born. Each ring represented the most perfect memory and the life you had built with the man you loved.

When you hear your bedroom door open and slow, almost silent steps towards you, you can also feel anxiety bubbling up your stomach and making your head spin. It had to be now, or you wouldn’t have the guts to do it anymore.

“Good morning, Lew.” He stopped when he heard your voice, eyebrows scrunching in confusion. You never woke up this early whenever you were in Monaco. “Can you sit here with me?”

It wasn’t a surprise when Lewis sat on the opposite side, facing you as the first rays of sunshine found their way through the still closed curtains. His face was perfectly illuminated by the sun, and that’s when a wave of painful realisation hit you - there was no trace of love nor admiration he usually had in his eyes whenever he was looking at you. So this would have to go down the hard way.

“Why are you up so early?” The lack of emotion in his voice made you gulp. You desperately wanted to shake and punch him until he was back to normal.

“I don’t want to fight, especially under the same roof as the kids.” Lewis moved uncomfortably on the armchair, waiting for you to continue. “But I need you to know that I know.”

“K-know what?”

“That you’ve been cheating.”

Those four words put an end to your marriage and Lewis used the most pathetic excuse to justify his poor actions, saying how sad he was with how the season was going and that he didn’t feel good enough anymore - and on top of that, he also added to his lame speech how busy you’ve been with the kids. “You don’t get to tell me about sad,” was the only thing you could send back to him, so full of agonising anger that the thought of his hands touching another woman’s body while you were the dedicated wife and mother made you want to throw up.

Betrayed and shattered, you forced yourself to take one step closer to moving on each day the sun invaded your new bedroom - one recently acquired with years of hard work and not with divorce money. As you navigated through the painful aftermath of being exposed to the media, Lewis faced the consequence of his actions with most of the public turning his back on him once the cheating went public and you knew damn well how. The thick tan line on your ring finger and your children playing at the beach under the afternoon sun were the only things now that represented Lewis in your life.

You were never open to the possibility of reconciliation, and as you moved on the best you could, you had to deal with an insisting Lewis bringing you flowers each time he showed up to his father duties - one he performed incredibly well.

On a night out with Susie Wolff, you confessed how much you missed him in your life but also how you only thought about him touching another woman. Would you ever be able to let go, to allow yourself to be loved again and live a happy life? Lewis couldn’t be the only option.

“Toto cheated once,” Susie admitted, her cheeks blushing as your eyes widened. “I know you are already divorced, but it’s up to you to discover if you want to embark on a journey of healing and forgiveness. To confront your vulnerabilities, and insecurities, and acknowledge what caused the cracks in your marriage that led to the affair.”

Susie made it all sound so simple, but it was deeper than that.

You concluded that, despite having to see him in your children’s faces every day, it’d be easier to deal with it for a while as if Lewis Hamilton was gone forever - dead, even, as awful as it sounded to you. To be happy and healthy for your babies, you have to feel it for yourself first. So, that’s when you decided that you’d have to avoid him for as long as you could and that’s what you did. Your mother was responsible for meeting him now whenever he showed up to pick up the kids, and from a respectful distance, Lewis watched you moving on.

First, on your own.

Then, with someone new. Someone who was to you what he couldn’t be for eternity, as he promised the day he proposed.

He watched you look as gorgeous as the day you met at that gala, he watched his children accept the new man in your life, he watched you engaged again and your fiancé become the newest Formula 1 champion.

Lewis watched you living the life you deserved and openly hoped he’d have the chance to give you again, no matter what it’d cost, because for you he’d ruin himself a million little times.

And secretly, so would you.

#lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lh44 x reader #lh44 imagine

[mypoisonedvine]

𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝘃𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝘁 𝗺𝗲 | tom (make up) x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | you and tom have been two peas in a pod for your entire lives: tommy and birdie, partners in crime. you only fell in love with him a few years ago, though. maybe he'll notice sometime before you die of old age... but probably not.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | 15.8k (oops)

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | smut (18+ only, dry humping, handjob, unprotected sex/loss of virginity, fingering, oral f receiving), alcohol consumption and tobacco use, best friends to lovers, angst, pining, fluff, tom and reader lacking braincells, extreme cornish, protectiveness/jealousy, There Was Only One Bed, I can't stress enough how fucking stupid these two are, truly no braincells detected in this entire fic

(title's after the song by the greeting committee <3 will always be the song that makes me think of tom the most)

YOU DON'T NEED TO SEE THE MOVIE TO READ THIS! plot of the film is totally discarded lmaooo

author's note part 2: there's a moment where the reader mentions that sometimes people think her and tom are siblings, she does not necessarily mean that they look alike! she means that they ACT like siblings and could be related through adoption or marriage-- her appearance isn't described and it's left open-ended for anyone to insert themselves ❤️

before we get started, I'm including a convenient cornish dictionary for you all to use if you're not already familiar with the dialect! other terms might pop up but they'll be explained in the text

teazy - acting grumpy or throwing a tantrum; something you might say to a kid having a fit or an adult who is being childishly negative

tuss - insult referencing male genitals; similar to 'knob' or 'dick' in UK and US english

my 'ansum - common, platonic greeting for men ("my handsome")

my bird - common, platonic greeting for women

rich - lovely, endearing, or beautiful

diddy? - a phrase used to mean 'is that true?' or 'really?'; diddah? and issuh? mean the same thing

wasson? - a greeting; short for "what's going on?"

jumping - very angry

hanging - terrible, gross

scat - (NOT WHAT YOU'RE THINKING lol) to push or fight someone

geek - a quick look; you can 'take a geek' at something

“Leave off, m'fine." Tom crinkled up his nose as he tried to brush your hands away, but you fought to keep dabbing the cuts on his face with the washcloth.

"Fine?  You look like you lost a fight," you frowned.

"Well, we won the match, so," he smiled, but winced when you went back to the cut just above his eyebrow.  “Fuck off, that hurts!”

“Couldn’t hurt as much as it did when you got it,” you insisted.  “C’mon, it’ll scar if you don’t let me clean it up right.”

“So?  I thought the lasses liked scars,” he grinned.  “Makes me look tough.”

“Makes you look like you got your arse handed to you.”

Tom really wasn’t built for rugby.  Though he certainly wasn’t in bad shape, he was the slimmest of all the guys he played with; he was fast, he had that going for him, but the poor kid got pummelled every time he played.

“Wish you wouldn’t go out there,” you mumbled, one of those rare times that you admitted how much you hated seeing him get hurt.

“Wish you wouldn’t worry about me when I can take care’a meself,” he replied.

And that was how it had always been— Tom was just reckless like that, and you had to try to reign him in as best you could.  You could remember so many nights spent this way, you trying to scold him enough that he might be a little more careful; but considering you’d been doing this since you were just little kids, you eventually gave up on trying to stop him and just decided to be there when he needed a little comfort.

You might’ve always been Tom’s greatest comfort.  So many things in life are uncertain, temporary, fleeting.  Not you; you’d always been there, as long as he could remember— even longer, really.  And not just because he had a shit memory from all those rugby concussions.  

“Aren’t you worried you’ll look beat up in all our holiday photos?” you asked him, speaking quietly since you were so close to his face to treat his injuries.

“Why’d that bother me?” he shrugged.  “You think I’m gonna be lookin’ at me own stupid mug in photos?”

“Don’t say that,” you shoved him on the shoulders as he laughed, leaning back into the couch.  “You’ve got a nice mug, if you didn’t get it all mucked up.”

“You think m’pretty then?” he cooed sarcastically, putting his hand under his chin and batting his eyelashes; you giggled and shoved him harder, this time knocking you both back until he was laying on the couch and you were on top of him.

“Yeah, pretty daft,” you replied, and he snorted.

“Fuck off,” he rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around your back.

“Lemme go, need to get a bandage for your face,” you explained as you squirmed.

“Nuh uh,” he denied your request, “not letting you up— sorry, birdie.”

“Tommy!” you whined through a laugh, struggling harder against him, but he just held you tighter and grinned down at you.  Giving up, you made a pouty face and rested your chin on his chest.  He mimicked your expression, mocking you until you frowned for real and gave up, turning your face again to lay your cheek down on his shirt.

He gave you a kiss on top of your head, and you let your eyes fall shut.

“Maybe just a little rest,” you decided, your voice already slurring— you were more tired than you thought.

“Mhm,” he agreed, brushing his fingers over your hair.  “Just a little, huh?”

You nodded groggily.  

“Alright— sleep tight, birdie…”

You were only tired because you’d been up way too late, packing for your trip to St. Ives with your and Tom’s families.  Joint vacations were nothing new to the two of you— actually, his parents and yours had been taking trips together since before the two of you were born.  There were pictures of you and Tommy, chubby little babies in your mums’ arms, riding on the London Eye; you’d watched a home video a few times where you were playing in the sand together at a beach in Valencia.  You weren’t sure why they felt the need to fly all the way to Spain for beaches when there were plenty here in Cornwall… but, case in point, this trip was going to be a much more relaxed (and budget-conscious) one: a roadtrip across the county, a couple rooms at a beach-side inn, and some much needed time in the sun for the next week.  Tom promised to teach you how to surf, though you weren’t sure you’d be able to figure it out anyways— but you looked forward to trying.  Really, you looked forward to Tom’s hands on your waist as he tried to help you find your balance.

Truth be told, despite being secretly in love with him since you were fourteen, you never really expected anything to happen with Tommy.  You were like brother and sister— even his parents treated you like a daughter, and vice versa— and you’d always been so close.  There’s always that fear of confessing to someone you’re close with and ruining the friendship, but this was even worse than that.  If you lost Tom, you’d lose everything.

So, it wasn’t sad— there wasn’t a lot of pining anymore, not many nights spent gushing into your diary about it and then crying yourself to sleep because he got a new girlfriend or something.  It was peaceful now, the one-sidedness of it.  You loved him, he didn’t notice, everything went on as usual and that was it.  You kept dating other guys, though Tom never liked any of them, and he dated other girls that you pretended to get along with until they split after a couple weeks.

In fact, dating was the topic of the hour as you and Tom sat in the back of his dad’s suburban, trying to entertain yourselves on the long drive to the beach resort you’d be staying at.

“That girl Dani,” you remembered, focusing most of your attention on a sudoku from the book you’d brought for the trip.  “She was fit— why’d you break up again?”

“Too clingy,” Tommy shrugged, not looking back at you; he was toying with the friendship bracelet around his wrist, the one you’d made for him at summer camp when you were eleven with blue and yellow and black chevrons.  Since you gave it to him, you’d never seen him without it, which is why the colours were all faded and dirty now, and why you were glad you made it adjustable all those years ago… he certainly outgrew the original size by now.

“I thought that was Claire,” you recalled.

“Oh, her too,” he nodded.

“This seems to be a problem for you,” you noticed, “clingy girls.  What does that even mean?”

“Means they get, like, possessive,” he clarified, holding his hands up almost like a motion of choking someone.  “Wanna know what you’re doing all the time, want a text every half hour— it’s too much.”

“That just means they like you, Tommy,” you rolled your eyes.  “You shouldn’t dump girls over that.”

“They usually dump me,” he corrected.

“What?!” you squeaked, before you cleared your throat when you noticed what your utter disbelief might imply.

“Guess they just get, I dunno, jealous?” he explained, crinkling his nose as he reached up to scratch the back of his neck.

“Jealous?” you repeated, looking away from the page in front of you for the first time.  The way he was looking at you— head tilted to the side, one eyebrow raised and mouth in a small frown— you realised what he meant.  “Of me?”

“Well, yeah,” he mumbled, “I mean, we spend so much time together.”

“But we’re just friends,” you noticed.

“That’s what I try to tell them!” he insisted.  “I mean, I say that you’re my best mate and all but I don’t even think of you like that— c’mon, I’d never…”

You looked back at the half-solved sudoku, letting out a sigh that you hoped you could pull off as frustration with the number grid before you.

“Guess they don’t believe me,” he concluded, “or they don’t care.”

“They must think it’s bound to happen one day,” you posited.  “That we’ll get together, I mean.”

“Yeah— but don’t you think if it was gonna happen, it would’ve happened already?” he pointed out.

You bit your lip.  “Yeah,” you agreed curtly.

"Hey— whatever happened to that lad with the crooked teeth you liked so much?" Tommy asked.

"You'll have to be more specific," you huffed, keeping your eyes trained on your puzzle.

"He had specs and a freckle right on the end of his nose," Tommy continued.

"Oh yeah!  Frank," you reminded him of the boy's name.  "What, did you actually approve of him or something?"

"Course not," Tommy scoffed.  "Jus' wondering, 'cause you used to go on about him all the time— 'bout how he was so wonderful and all." Tommy rolled his eyes, just to make sure it was perfectly clear that he didn't approve.

"Erm, well," you stalled, "yeah, haven't talked to him in a while."

Tommy wouldn't buy an excuse like that from you, he knew you far too well.  Leaning in, he titled his head to try to get a view of your face.  "Did something happen with him?" he pressed, and you swallowed.

"Yeah, I mean— nothing really," you shrugged, "he just got upset that I didn't wanna take things too fast, I guess.  Called me a slag and threw my phone— didn't crack, though, got lucky there—"

"Diddy?" Tommy spat, his anger obvious on his face.  He sat back up when you nodded, taking in a deep breath through his nose.  "Shoulda told me, would've scat 'im down and beat his face in.  Can't be talking to my birdie like that."

Your heart skipped a beat.  His birdie.  

"And throwin' your phone, too?  Bleddy tuss," Tommy sneered, shaking his head as he looked out the window, like he was trying to calm himself down.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you get especially Cornish when you're angry?" you giggled.

"Only twice a day, birdie," Tom laughed.  

Did anyone ever tell you that it turns me on?

“We’re here!” your mum announced, and you looked up to see that the car was turning in to a roundabout driveway.  Tom excitedly leaned against his window, looking up at the hotel.  “Wow,” he breathed.  “Look!”

He guided you to lean in right up against him, pressing your cheek to the glass so you could see the tall building.  It wasn’t a skyscraper or anything— this wasn’t that kind of place— but it was at least ten stories, with white bricks on the outside and seafoam-green shutters on each window.

With the car parked, Tom and the dads were going through the boot while his mom ran to use the loo and you and your mom checked in.

You weren’t really paying attention, honestly, while your mom gave the woman at the front desk a credit card for incidentals and all that.  The interaction only piqued your interest when you heard her confirm— “three rooms, then?”

“Yep,” your mum agreed.

“Three?” you repeated, looking up at her.

“Yeah— your dad and I, Gary and Marie, and then another room for you and Tom.”

You cleared your room.  “Tom and I get our own room?”

“You think us old geezers wanna be kept up all night by your giggling?” she snorted.  “Figured you two could entertain yourselves just fine, give the grown-ups some space.”

Before you could decide how to react to that, the opening of the front doors got everyone’s attention.  Tom looked ridiculous trying to carry as many bags as he could— all of yours, plus his and his mom’s— and you snorted as you watched him waddle into the lobby with all of them.

“What floor are we on?” he asked, the strain in his voice apparent and hilarious.

“Ten,” you informed him, and he groaned.

“Kidding!  Three,” you chuckled, “and there’s a lift.”

“Aw, Jesus,” Tom grumbled as he walked past you, struggling under the weight of the bags.  “You’re tryin’ to kill me, birdie.”

“I didn’t tell you to carry all those,” you rolled your eyes, looking at the concierge again as Tom turned the corner to find the lift.

“Is that your boyfriend?” she asked, continuing before you could answer.  “You two are adorable.”

“O-oh, er— no, actually,” you stammered, “just a friend.”

“Oh!” she mumbled.  “I see, my apologies.”

You looked down at your phone for just a second, only to hear your mom make a strange noise— a little giggle, and you saw her and the woman at the desk looking at each other.  “What?” you asked your mum.

“Nothing, dear,” she dismissed.

“What?!” you hissed, groaning when she hid a cheeky smile but said nothing.  “You’re so weird sometimes, mum…”

“Anyhoo,” the concierge mumbled, “you’re all ready to go!  Three king bed rooms, third floor, ocean view—”

“Wait, wait,” you interrupted, “all the rooms have a king bed?”  She nodded.  “Just a king bed?”

“Well… there’s a couch,” she offered.

You deflated slightly.  “That might be a little strange.”

“Oh,” she hummed, “well, I could change your room if you’d like.  But they won’t be connected anymore…”

“That’s fine,” you shook your head.

“Okay, there’s a room with two twins across the hall,” she explained, reading from her computer screen.

Ugh, a twin was gonna be uncomfortable, but so would just one bed.  “That’s fine, thank you.”

She clicked around on her keyboard for a bit, and right as she looked up at you again, Tom appeared from around the corner again.  “All done,” she announced, “I’ve changed your room for you!”

“You what?” Tom choked.

“She’s just changed our room for us,” you explained to him.

“Ah god,” he panted, laying his head against the wall while he caught his breath.  “Birdie, I just put all the bags away…”

You sighed, and the woman piped up again.  “I could still change it back for you, if the bags are too much trouble.”

“Please,” Tom breathed, and she nodded and started up with the keyboard again.  Rolling your eyes, you brushed past Tom flippantly.

“I’m gonna change,” you announced.

“Goin’ up to the room?” he asked.

“No, I was going to strip in the hallway and hope nobody walked through,” you replied snarkily.

“I was just gonna give you the key, birdie,” he smirked, pulling the plastic card out of his pocket.  You chewed your lip, regretting being so rude.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking it from him and moving along to the lift.

~

You’d only brought one swimsuit, the new one you’d bought just for this.  Maybe you’d had this crazy idea somewhere in the back of your mind that if you wore a tight little bikini, you’d finally get Tom’s attention and he’d stop seeing you just as the little girl he’d grown up with.  If you’d been a little less emotional and a touch more logical, you would’ve checked the weather first.

Yes, it was a beach, but it was still an English beach… the sky was grey and cloudy, and without sunlight, the ocean breeze was less refreshing and more chilly.  Very chilly, in fact, when you had hardly anything on like this.  You were trying so hard to act natural, to lay there on that chair on the beach and look as gorgeous as possible for whenever Tom came out, but it was so cold… every few seconds you were tensing up your jaw to try to fight off a shiver.

He came down a couple minutes later, wearing his swim trunks, but since he was apparently smarter than you, he was also wearing a half-zip jumper and a t-shirt underneath.  You pretended not to see him coming and laid still, only reacting to his presence with a polite wave when he was too close to ignore.

“Not gonna get much of a tan in this weather,” he noticed with a laugh as he sat next to you.

“I’m not tanning, I’m… relaxing,” you explained.

“Want me jumper, birdie?” he offered.  “You look freezing.”

“I-I’m fine,” you insisted, but your teeth chattered.  Next thing you knew, he was peeling it off over his head anyways— his shirt stuck to it and started to lift, too, exposing his stomach.  He managed to get the jumper off, though, and pulled it down over your face as you laughed and resigned yourself to your fate.  “Tommy, stop it,” you whined, batting his arms away so you could put the garment on yourself— he’d been trying to force it on you and accidentally trapped your face in one of the sleeves.

When you finally navigated your limbs through the borrowed sweater, popping your face out and breathing in a deep breath of fresh air after being stuck inside the cotton for a moment, you saw him looking at you… different.  Just a little different, but different nonetheless.  You wrinkled your eyebrows together at him, and he shook his head with a little laugh, and it was all back to normal again.  “Should keep you warm,” he mumbled, turning back to the view of the ocean and bringing his feet up onto the chair.

“Thanks,” you nodded, watching him lift his hands up behind his head and sigh.

For a while, you two laid there in silence, the sound of the ocean waves and seabirds like a quiet, slow song.  If you weren't thinking constantly about whether or not Tom was looking at you, you might've been able to relax enough to fall asleep.  Apparently Tom wasn't all in his head because he dozed off within a couple minutes, and after that, you decided to get up and explore the beach a bit.  There were little shops dotted here and there, a gelato stand, a cosy open-air pub playing music over their speakers.

You stopped to watch some boys playing volleyball on the beach, and one of them seemed to notice you staring— and he smiled at you, just before he served; you had to be careful not to make yourself look stupid by suddenly smiling down at the sand and toying with your hair, but you desperately wanted to.  He was cute, and tall and, you know, shirtless.  They all were, but he probably looked the best that way of any of them.

He ended the round with a spike right beside the net, and his side of the court cheered while the others groaned and complained to each other.  You clapped for them, and the boy looked at you again; he said something to his friends, and with the ball still under his arm, he jogged over toward you.

"Hey," he greeted with a sideways, pearly-white smile.

"Hi," you returned.  

"Did you like watching us play?" he asked, glancing back at the net for a second.

"Yeah, you're really good," you nodded.  "Are you a real team or somethin'?"

"No, god no," he laughed, "we just play for fun.  Not many sandy beaches to play at in London."

"Oh, you're visiting from London?  What part?"

"Southeast," he replied.

You nodded.  "Oh…"

There wasn't much you could say to that because you didn't know anything about London; he chuckled, apparently realising just that.  "I guess you're from around here?"

"Sort of— an hour down the way but, yes, I'm from Cornwall," you agreed.

“You’ve got an interesting accent,” he noticed with a smirk.  “It’s cute, actually.”

“Oh, y’think?” you smiled shyly.  “Always heard growing up that a Cornish accent made me sound like a dumb farmer or somethin’.”

“It works on you, though,” he decided.

"Oi!  Come back and serve!" one of the boys by the net called, and your new friend turned his head around.

"Go on without me," he told them, tossing the ball over.  "I'm talking to, er…"

He looked back at you, and you stammered out your name; he repeated it back to you with a smile.

"I'm Devon," he told you.

"Well, hi, Devon," you smiled.

Aaaaand, just in time, you heard Tom’s voice calling after you: “Birdie!” he shouted from down the beach, and you turned and sighed as you waved back.  

In a moment, Tom was beside you, slipping his arm around your shoulders.

"Where'd you run off to, my lover?" Tommy asked with a tilted smile, but he didn't give you a chance to answer before he looked over at the other young man and back at you.  "Who's the emmet?"

"My name's Devon, not Emmett," the Londoner corrected, and you hoped your polite laugh would break the tension.

"No, Devon, 'emmet' is Cornish," you explained.  "It's what we call tourists."

Except, ‘incomer’ is what you call tourists.  Emmet is what you call annoying tourists.  And you knew Tom was annoyed by him because he was hitting on you.

"This your girl, then?" Devon asked Tom… a little straightforward, but that's just how Londoners are, maybe?

"What's it to you?" Tom wondered.

"Er—" you interjected immediately, "no, actually, Tom's just a friend," you coughed, knowing that even though it was a way to greet a good friend around here, Tom surely intended for it to be misinterpreted.

"Bloody hell.  Can't tell what you people are saying," Devon grumbled, and you spoke up before Tom surely asked what 'you people' was supposed to mean.

"Anyways, point is— Tom and I are good friends, known each other since we were kids," you continued.

"Really?" Devon pressed.

“Yep," Tom replied with a beaming smile, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer to him, "she’s been me best mate since we were wee babes,” he beamed.  

“A bird’s your best mate?” Devon scoffed.  “Sure you’re not bent?”

“I’m bent?  You’re the one spendin’ all your time with a bunch of blokes with no shirts on, mate,” Tom defended.

Devon stepped forward and you had to jut yourself in between them to keep it from getting too heated.  “Okay, lads, let’s settle down, then—”

“Be careful,” Tom warned Devon, and you jabbed him with your elbow as punishment.

“I said to stop it, alright?” you hissed at Tom.  “Doesn’t matter, Tommy.”

“Yeah, Tommy,” Devon snickered, and you literally had to lean all your weight onto Tommy to keep him from trying to dive right over you to pummell the bellend.

"Let's go," you informed Tommy as you scoffed at Devon.  Wrapping a hand around Tom's waist, you guided him to walk with you back down the beach, away from the possibility of a fight.

Tommy could find a fight anywhere— even on the beach on holiday.  It was a real talent of his.

"You're horrible!" you whined as you punched Tom on his side.

"What did I do now?" he groaned.

"You scared that boy off, he was cute and he was flirting with me."

"Exactly!" Tommy emphasised, and you rolled your eyes.  "He turned out to be a wanker, anyhow, you heard him making fun of our accent, didn't you?"

"I think he was just making fun of your accent," you frowned.

"We've got the same one," Tom noticed.

"Well— just stop doing that!  You always do that."

"Sorry, birdie,” he shrugged, not seeming especially sorry.

You sighed and decided to let it go, because it wasn’t worth the argument.  “What’s next, then?  Think I’ve had enough of the beach.”

“Pub?” he suggested, and you laughed.

“Hardly late enough for that, don’t you think?” you snorted.

“Okay, dinner first, then pub,” he offered instead.

“That’s better.”

~

There were a few pubs along your walk back from dinner, but only one that had the rugby match on; so, of course, that was the one Tom picked.  It was almost entirely empty when you came inside, and since the match had gone to commercial break, Tom decided now was the best time to run to the loo.

“Order me something?” he requested.  “Whatever you’re getting.”

You nodded and he dashed off down a hallway.  Sitting at the bar, currently unattended with no other patrons but yourself, you looked up at the telly on the wall and caught a couple seconds of a car commercial.

“Can I get you anything?” 

The voice made you turn your head away from the telly, and you were surprised to find a boy your age on the other side of the bar.

“Oh, erm,” you choked, “just something on tap?  M’not picky.”

“There’s a stout we brew right here in the neighbourhood,” he suggested, “you might like it.”

“Sure,” you shrugged, “and one for my friend.”

“Great,” he smiled, bending down below the bar and reappearing with two pint glasses in hand.  You watched him as he tilted the glasses and filled them from the tape, admiring his tan skin and longer hair— he had that surfer look about him, in a Cornwall sort of way.

“Aren’t you a little young to be tending bar?” you noticed.

He laughed, revealing some dimples in the process.  “And you’re one to talk?” he shot back.

“I’m old enough to be served, aren’t I?” you challenged.

“Well actually, I was gonna ask for your ID,” he admitted, “but, you’re cute, so I decided to let it slide.”

You looked down as he set your drink on the bar for you.  “Thanks,” you hummed.  You tried it, giving him a nod of approval when the taste hit your tongue— it was pretty mild, and sort of grapefruit-y somehow.

“In town for holiday?” he assumed.

“Yeah,” you nodded, and he clicked his tongue.

“Too bad,” he shook his head.  “When are you going back home?”

“Thursday.”

“And where’s home?” he asked.  “You sound local.”

“Yeah, I am,” you agreed, “about an hour north.”

“Liskeard?” he guessed, and you shook your head.  “Launceston?”

“Closer,” you smiled.

“Bradworthy?”

“Oh, too far…”

“Holsworthy,” he grinned.

“Got it,” you nodded.

“Seems like it’d be easier to just drive up to Westward Ho! wouldn’t it?” he tilted his head.

“I try not to go anywhere that has an exclamation mark in the name,” you explained, and he chuckled a little.  

“I guess that’s fair,” he shrugged, “and it’s a good thing you came here anyways.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because now I get to look at you,” he cooed.

You took a sip of the beer to hide your warming face.  When you brought the glass back down, he laughed at you softly.

“Got some foam on your nose, my bird,” he warned you, reaching forward to wipe it off with his thumb.

“Oh, th-thanks,” you stammered, watching him put his thumb to his mouth and suck that bit of foam off while he kept looking at you.  What a flirt!  Do it again.

Tom came back from the washroom and sat on the stool next to yours, thanking you for ordering his beer for him before he took a large drink of it.

"O-oh," the bartender choked, and you knew that look— the ‘shit, you've got a boyfriend’ look.  

You sighed.  "Hey, um— this is my friend, Tom," you explained.

"Wasson?" Tom greeted him, nodding his head quickly in acknowledgement.

"Not much, mate," he replied, "Cade.”

“Tom,” he answered back as if he didn’t already know that, not going so far as to shake hands since Tom was holding his glass and Cade was holding a rag to wipe down the bar.

“She was just telling me you're only here for a spell,” Cade recalled, “which is a proper shame.”  

You smiled shyly.  “Oh, yeah, well, I wish our holiday could be longer, too.”

“Always the prettiest maids just here on holiday,” Cade nodded, looking at Tom.  “You know how it is, don’t you?  You’re from a holiday town, too, I heard.”

Not quite as popular as your current location, but yes, vacationers would occasionally appear in town.  You’d never noticed this ‘girls visiting from up-country are prettier’ principle, but your eyes turned to Tom expectantly.  “Uh, yeah,” Tommy nodded.  “Yeah, I know how it is.  And half of them have boyfriends back home.”

It made your heart sink a bit— what you would give to have one of those.  Or to have Tommy say no, the prettiest bird’s right here with me now.  Or both.

“But that doesn’t stop all of them,” he added with a laugh, and you rolled your eyes.

“You’re awful, Tommy,” you shoved him lightly.

“Yeah,” he agreed, licking his bottom lip.

Cade gestured at Tom’s rugby union shirt— “You play?” he asked.

“Yeah, sometimes,” Tom nodded, “you?”

“I just watch,” he shrugged, pointing at the telly in the corner.  “Cooped up in this pub all the time, anyway.”

“That’s no excuse,” Tom chided, “gotta get out there and get roughed up!”

“That’s what surfing’s for,” Cade smirked.

“Okay, now I’m definitely not going,” you shook your head.  “I don’t wanna get roughed up by the ocean!”

“I said I would teach her,” Tom informed Cade, “now look what you’ve done.”

“Sorry,” Cade laughed, “you’ll be fine, and you’ve come at just the right time of year for it.”

“That’s what I said!” Tom agreed.

Oh god, were they actually getting on alright?  Would Tom give his approval, finally?  

You sipped your stout and let them go on about rugby and football teams for a while, letting yourself get your hopes up that Tom would actually like a guy who liked you— and sure, he was a barkeep in your holiday spot, not exactly the foundation for a serious relationship, but it would be nice to have a little fling without worrying that Tom would end up beating him up.

Tom was the one who made fun of you sometimes for being a virgin, anyway.  He never meant it— actually, when he occasionally took the time to be serious, he assured you better than anyone else that it was perfectly normal and fine to still be one.  But still, you weren’t exactly trying to hang onto it much longer.  Tom told you to wait for the right person; but you’d been waiting for him for way too long.

Watching the match together, you and Tom put down a few pints and laughed at some stupid old inside jokes— Cade tended to stick around, chatting with you both, when there weren’t other customers to serve.  You caught him glancing at you a few times, and you liked how you felt when he looked at you like that— desirable, maybe even grown up.  You and Tom had been friends since you were little, after all, and since he treated you the exact same way he always had, sometimes you still felt little around him.  But you weren’t.  It was good to remember that.

The match ended— Cornwall won, thank god, or you’d be babying Tom all night after he drowned his sorrows in something stronger than the local stout.  He still drank a little too much to celebrate, but less too much.

Enough that he had to go to the loo again, though, at which point Cade was suddenly right by you again.  “Your friend’s funny,” he smiled.

“Yeah,” you agreed, “he’s not always that loud, but, yeah, he’s never been very subtle.”

“And he’s just a friend?” 

You rolled your eyes.  “Yes,” you insisted, and you focused your tone on your annoyance and not your disappointment.

“Just checking!” Cade returned defensively.  “How long have you known him?” 

“My whole life,” you sighed.  “Can’t remember a time without him.  He’s just… always been there.”

Cade nodded.  “That’s nice, wish I had a friend like that.  People come and go a lot in a place like this.”

“I bet,” you offered sympathetically.  “And your girlfriend?  Does she come and go, or stick around?”

“What?  I don’t have a girlfriend,” he frowned.

“Just checking,” you winked.

“Why, you think I should get one?” he raised an eyebrow.

You shrugged.  “If you can find one…”

His eyes dragged over you, his smile fading slightly; you pretended not to be totally overwhelmed by it all.

“Cade!” a voice shouted from the back, and an older woman poked her head out of the kitchen as Cade turned his head.  “Come back here an’ clean up!”

“I will, mum!” he called back, before returning his attention to you.  “Listen, I’d better get back to work— but you could come by tomorrow?  If you wanted.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I think I’ll find the time.”

“Tom can come too, of course,” he added, leaning closer to you on the bar, “but… I’d rather have some time alone with you, if that’s alright.”

Reaching up to scratch your shoulder, you bit your lip to hide a smile.  “Okay, yeah—” you set your hands back down on the bar when you saw the way he was looking at you, “yeah, I’d like that, too.  I’m sure Tommy can find some way to entertain himself for an hour.”

Cade’s hand landed on yours suddenly, giving it a quick squeeze while he winked at you.  And then he threw the rag over his shoulder and disappeared into the back.  You pursed your lips and exhaled through them; it had been a while since you had butterflies like that.  

Tom came back around the corner, leaning beside you on the wooden bar, and you giggled when you saw how red his nose had gotten from the booze.  “Tommy, you look like you’ve stuck your face in blusher,” you noticed.

“Aw, really?” he scrunched up his nose, wiping it with his hand.

“You can’t wipe it off!” you laughed harder.  “Cade’s gone to the back to work— wanna go on a walk, take a geek at the rest of the neighbourhood?”

“Sure,” he agreed, letting you take his hand and pull him along with you out the door and around the pavement.  You walked in silence for a few moments, glancing at him once, before you just had to bring it up.

“So, Cade was nice…” you trailed off.  You looked at Tom expectantly, wearing a hopeful smile, but you hadn't even said anything yet before he expressed his dissent.

“No, no way,” he shook his head, ignoring your protests, “not good enough for you.”

“What?  Tommy, what’s wrong with him?”

“What’s wrong with him?” Tom repeated.  “Birdie, what’s right with him?”

“I thought you liked him!” you whined.  “He was so nice to you, and you talked rugby for ages!”

“Was looking at you funny,” he shuddered.

“Well, I’d hope so,” you rolled your eyes, “doesn’t that mean he’s interested?”

“That’s what you want, creepy guys drooling all over you?” Tom snorted.  “Come on, let’s go— I don’t want you seeing that sod again.”

You groaned, but let him drape his arm over your shoulders and guide you away.  “You shouldn’t be so protective, Tom… this is why everyone thinks you’re either my brother or my boyfriend.”

“If it keeps the boys away from you, I don’t care what they think,” he decided.  You rolled your eyes as he pulled your head down with his arm, enough that he could plant a kiss on top of your head.  “There, now they’ll think I’m your boyfriend, how about that?”

“You kiss me all the time,” you laughed.

“Eh?”

“On the head,” you clarified.  “You give me kisses on the head, doesn’t make you my boyfriend.”

“Guess not,” he agreed.  

Halfway along your walk, you passed a park which Tom decided would be the perfect place to share a cigarette— actually, he was just going to smoke it himself, but you made him share.

“Remember your sixth birthday party?” he asked, seemingly out of nowhere, after a drag.  “You tripped and sprained your ankle running in the backyard that day, but you stopped crying when we gave you your presents.”

You laughed at the memory.  “God, I barely remember— but yeah.”

He handed the cigarette to you and you rested it between your lips.  “Do you remember what I got you?” he continued.

“A Barbie,” you recalled, “wasn’t it?  She was some little princess or something, can’t remember now.”

“Yeah,” he nodded.  “Well, I want you to know that before I gave her to you, I took her out of the box and took her clothes off.”

“What?!” you snorted, making a cloud of smoke 

“I had to know!” he laughed.  “I put them back on and put her back in the box and everything first before I gave her to you.”

“Yeah, I think I would remember getting a naked Barbie, Tom,” you scoffed, and he carefully plucked the cigarette from your fingers and took it back.

“Right, well—” he stopped to inhale, and then let it out as he continued— “she had plastic panties on anyway.  Wasn’t worth it,” he shook his head.

You dropped your forehead into your palm.  “The fuck are you talking about?” you giggled. 

“Just that time of night where you feel like confessing things, I guess,” he shrugged.

“Any other secrets you’ve been keeping from me?” you pressed.  “Any other childhood toys of mine that you violated?”

“Took a geek up the skirt of a Cabbage Patch Kid or two,” he added, “but that’s about it.”

“Well, we all did that,” you rolled your eyes, and he grinned at you.

“Oh, I knew it,” he purred, “I think you were just as much of a pervert as I was.”

“Yeah?  But you’re still a pervert,” you accused.

“Maybe,” he relented, “but at least I’m not a prude.”

You looked away quickly.  “M’not a prude, Tommy…”

“I know, I know,” he soothed, handing you the last quarter of the cigarette, “you’re just picky.  And you should be.”

He suddenly laid his head down on your lap, making you tense up a little bit and wonder where you were supposed to put your hands.

“Nobody deserves you anyway,” he mumbled, closing his eyes as he adjusted himself to get comfortable on the bench.

“Well, that doesn’t really solve my problem, does it?” you said, speaking a little quieter.

“What’s the problem?” he wondered sleepily.

You sighed, holding the cigarette in your mouth as you reached down and carded your fingers through his hair.  He hummed and smiled a little.  “Nothing,” you dismissed, and he started to breathe slower and slower.  

You finished the cigarette over the course of the next however-long-it-had-been, absent-mindedly touching his head and playing with his hair, and only noticed that Tom had dozed off when you felt a wet patch under his mouth on your legs.

“Eww, Tommy!” you whined, shoving him off of you as he tried to wake up.  “When I said I wanted guys to drool over me, this is not what I meant.”

“Sorry, love,” he laughed, wiping the side of his mouth with the back of his hand.  “Think that’s our cue to go back to the room and go to bed, eh?”

~

He didn’t say anything before he got in the shower, so you didn’t know what to expect when he got out: was he going to suddenly realise there was only one bed?  Had he already and just didn’t care?  Were you supposed to protest, or act like it was no big deal, or what?

When he emerged from the steamy bathroom in his pyjamas— aka, just his fuzzy plaid trousers, the ever-present friendship bracelet, and the chain on his neck— he found you standing in the middle of the room, staring at the singular bed, and gave you a confused look.

“I guess you saw when you brought our bags up,” you mumbled nervously.  

“Eh?”

“The bed.”  You motioned towards it, and he wrinkled his eyebrows together.

“What about it?” he shrugged.

“There’s only one of it!”

“Oh,” he nodded, “yeah, guess so.”

“So, we’ll have to share,” you helped him reach the obvious conclusion.

“Oh,” he said again, “you think it’ll be weird?”

“I mean, I figure,” you shrugged.

“I’ll take the couch,” he insisted.

“No, Tommy, let me,” you pleaded.

“You jokin’?  I’m supposed to let a maid sleep on the couch?”

“Didn’t realise you were such a gentleman,” you frowned, crossing your arms.

“Aren’t I?” he smirked.

You felt bad about it, but he was already putting a spare sheet down on the sofa while you were getting through your nighttime routine.  Leaning out of the bathroom, toothbrush sticking out of your mouth, you caught a glimpse of him laying there on the couch with one arm up behind his head and the other holding the book he’d been reading as of late— one of those fantasy novels that were much too violent for you.  He looked past the top of it to smile at you, and you popped back in to wrap up.

You were just wearing a baggy old t-shirt that was just long enough on you to cover your red panties, which you felt mostly not-weird about wearing around Tom, though walking past him to get to bed made you shiver a little bit.

“G’night,” he offered.

“You too,” you replied quietly, and he reached up above his head to switch off the lamp.

Sure, it was you who had worried about the whole bed-sharing thing in the first place, but that was only because you were pre-emptively worrying that he would worry about it.  It was sort of a lose-lose: if he was against it, then you’d feel dejected, but if he was fine with it, it was another way for him to rub it in that you could hold him but never have him.

Still, now that you were alone in this big old bed, you couldn’t help but think that at least it was nice you could hold him… but he was all the way over there.

You chewed your lip, trying to stay quiet.  You made it about thirty seconds.  “Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Think you’ll fall asleep alright on that?” you wondered.

“Should be asleep in a couple minutes, once you’re quiet,” he replied.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” you mumbled.  You made it a whole minute before you spoke again.  “Tommyyyyy,” you whined.

“What!” he snapped.

“I can’t sleep, I feel too bad!” you pouted.  “Just get in the bed?  We fall asleep together all the time!  What’s the difference?”

“Difference is it’s all night,” he explained, “haven’t done that since we were eight— and you kicked me in your sleep!”

“Are you seriously going to sleep on that musty old sofa, and leave me alone here in the king bed, just because you’re still mad at me for kicking you?”

“Not just that,” he mumbled, “you snore, too.”

“Shut up,” you groaned, “just come over, won’t you?  I’m cold anyways…”

He paused as he considered it.  “There’s room for me?”

“Tons,” you promised.

You heard him throw the blanket off of himself, and you smiled instantly.  In a moment, he was diving into the bed, and you laughed as the mattress creaked; he laid next to you on his back, and you reached an arm around his torso while setting your head on his shoulder.

He smelled so good after his shower, clean and woodsy from his deodorant, and his curls held their shape despite being wet still.

“Should’ve known you’d be like a barnacle soon as I got in here,” he chuckled.

“I said I was cold,” you reminded him, hugging his waist tighter.

“Night, birdie,” he whispered after he kissed the top of your head.  With him holding you, you were asleep in an instant.

It was one of those dreamless sleeps that went by quickly, like you’d only shut your eyes for a few minutes.  You would’ve thought it was still the middle of the night when you woke up, if it weren’t for the sun coming in through the open window.

Specifically, you woke up because of a long sigh right by your ear, making you blink your eyes open quickly and start to stretch your legs out under the sheet and blanket.  You were on your side, and Tommy was pressed right up on your back, his arm draped around your torso.

He sighed again, and you felt him shift around against you.  Most importantly, you felt something hard and hot on your lower back.   Eyes going wide, you jolted as you felt him rock his hips against you again.

"Tommy," you whispered, hoping to wake him up.

"Mm," he hummed, smiling against your neck, and you shuddered.

"Tommy!" you hissed, and he snorted as he woke up suddenly.

He pulled back and all but jumped away from you.  “Shit, I—” he mumbled, sitting up as the bed creaked; god, his face was so red, he looked adorably flustered and a bit terrified.  “I’m sorry, birdie, I swear I wasn’t trying to—”

“It’s okay, Tommy,” you insisted, sitting up with him, “it’s not a big deal.”

“What’d you say?  It’s not big?” he choked.

“No!  Tommy, it’s—” you stopped yourself from saying what you wanted to say then.  “I know that happens to guys in the mornings…”

“Oh, yeah,” he agreed, reaching up to rub the back of his neck nervously, “happens when we’re in bed with pretty girls, too…”

Before you could wonder if there was something to read into there, he spoke again.

“I’m fucked,” he groaned, running his hand down over his face, “what’s the time?”

“Ten ‘til 9,” you informed him following a glance at the clock on the nightstand.

“We’ve got that breakfast soon, we’re supposed to meet downstairs in five minutes,” he recalled.  “And I can’t get dressed ‘til he’s gone away.”

“How do you normally get rid of it?” you wondered, watching him look at you for a second before looking away again.

“Well…” he trailed off, clearing his throat.

“Well?” you pressed.

“Y-y’know,” he stammered, “it’s— er— fuckin’ hell, birdie, can’t say it with you lookin’ at me like that…”

“C’mon, Tommy, I know you wank off,” you rolled your eyes, “you and every other bloke on the planet.”

“But I can’t do it with you here!” he yelped, and a pang of self-consciousness hit your chest.  Were you that horrible of a sight that he wouldn’t be able to finish with you nearby?

“I-I’ll leave then, give you some space,” you offered.

“Birdie, I’ll know you’re just outside the door, that’s not gonna help,” he frowned.

“Well shit, Tommy, where’dya want me to go?  Fuckin’ Launceston?”

“No, shit, that’s not what I meant,” he groaned, reaching up and covering his face as he rubbed his eyes with his fingertips.  “You’ve just got me all messed up— s’not your fault, I mean!  I just don’t know what m’gonna do now…”

You bit your lip, glancing over at the flowery wallpaper on the opposite side of the room, then to the window and its view out over the beach.  “I mean, maybe… maybe if it would help, I could…”

“Jesus, birdie, don’t say you’re gonna wank me off or somethin’,” he pleaded with a concerned tilt of his head, and you stammered as you tried to remember what you were going to say.

“No, I— I was gonna say you could…” you began again, “er— I mean, before, while you were asleep, you were… it was…”

“What?” he pressed, leaning a little closer to you, and you chickened out.

“Nevermind, sorry,” you shook your head, “you should just get dressed— nobody’ll notice it.”

That was a lie: if it looked as big as it felt, a family of four could go camping under the tent in his shorts at this point.  “No, c’mon,” he pleaded, scooting a little closer to you, “won’t make fun of you or nothin’, just wanna know what you were gonna say.  You know I can’t run down to breakfast with my willy tryin’ to jump out, yeah?  Like, ‘hey mum an’ dads, pass me the eggs, then— don’t mind my fuckin’ blood sausage under the table—’”

You laughed, pushing him on the chest— but he just moved closer, again, looking right at your face.  You felt oddly exposed to him, even though he should’ve been the one feeling like that considering the circumstances.  “Fine,” you relented, “I was just… thought maybe you could— well, it could help you if you, um… just… pressed up against me, again?  Like you were before?  And you could, er…”

Dropping your voice to a mumble just above a whisper, you watched your hands clutch the spotted quilt in lieu of meeting his invasive stare.

“You could… grind on me, a bit,” you finally completed, so quiet that you barely heard yourself.  But he was a few inches away— he must’ve heard you.  Literally, he must have, because you couldn’t say it again.

“Eh?” he grunted, and you rolled your eyes.

“C’mon, Tommy, you’re not deaf, are you?”

“No, m’just… you wan’ me to rub me stiffy on you?” he realised, tilting his chin down and raising an eyebrow.  Leave it to Tommy to throw all the subtlety to the wind and just say it outright like that, ignorant to the way it made your cheeks burn and your throat catch.

“I-I mean, I don’t want you to,” you denied quickly, “I just thought it might go away if you did.  Means to an end, right?”

“Yeah, means to an end,” he agreed, clearing his throat.  “Just feel a little weird about it, birdie, I mean… it’s you.  You know I love ya— don’t wanna be rude to you or, er, disrespectful—”

“It’s not,” you promised, “I’m offering— and it’ll be quick, right?”

“Er, yeah,” he coughed, rubbing the back of his neck again, “should be…”

“Okay, then, should we?” you asked, sheepishly raising your eyebrows as you looked at him.

“I mean, fuck, birdie,” he laughed nervously, “I think you know we shouldn’t.”

But you both already knew that you were going to, and the thrill of something so forbidden titillated you further.

“Lay down then, yeah?” he instructed you softly, and you turned back onto your side as you felt him press up to your back.  His arm slipped around your front, the one with your bracelet on his wrist, and you could feel him breathing by the back of your neck as he brushed your hair out of the way.  “This alright?” 

You nodded, and he held you a little tighter; you felt it then, brushing up against your lower back.  You were getting sweaty from how warm it was with him pressed up on you under the thick covers, yet you still shivered.

He hummed quietly, his hand moving down your hips so he could hold you steady.  And he rocked into you again, more confidently, a shaky breath falling from his lips.  

When his forehead rested against the back of your shoulder, you felt your back arch slightly; and then you could feel the ridge under the head of his cock, you could feel it when he moved in one, long stroke and you bit your lip, arching your back deeper.

“Shit,” he grunted quietly, and he started to move a little faster right after he said that.

After just a minute or less of that, you were beyond desperate to have him inside you, you couldn’t stop thinking about what it would feel like— about how he would stretch you open, how he would moan for you as he filled you to the brim.  If he wanted to, right now, he could just lift up your shirt a bit and pull your panties down without saying anything, slip inside you in one go; you were soaking wet, he’d slide in so easily…

“Fuck, birdie,” he breathed, “roll over.”

His verbal command was a bit moot, since his hand was already on your shoulder, gently pushing you to lay on your back.  He hovered above you for a moment, and you looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Spread your legs,” he whispered; you’d only been waiting years for him to say that to you.  You did it unquestioningly, and he slotted himself between them with a low groan.  When he pressed his cock up against your aching cunt— through so many frustrating layers of pyjamas— he shut his eyes and tossed his head back for a second.  It was so perfect, his face in bliss like that, the morning sun peeking in through the curtains and making his curls shine golden-blonde.  He looked fucking beautiful.

A little gasp jumped in your mouth as he started to thrust against you again, each stroke of his hips rubbing right over your clit and making his chain dangle over your face.  You almost felt guilty, for a second, with the little engraving of Saint Thomas right there, like he was watching you do this.  “Sh-shit, Tommy…” you hissed, catching yourself before you moaned aloud when he rocked his hip harder against you and your whole pussy clenched.  If only he could feel that now— if only he could feel around his cock how desperately you needed him.

He descended down upon you, burying his face in your neck.  His hair tickled your cheek, and you fisted at the sheets to stop yourself from reaching up and holding onto him— that would be too much, too needy, right?  It was just supposed to be a means to an end, after all.  “Can I kiss you here?” he asked under his breath.

“Er, why would you do that?” you wondered.

“Just— thought it might make it go faster,” he justified.

“Y-yeah, Tommy, s’fine,” you nodded.  Do whatever you want to me.

He latched on right away, a mess of lips and tongue and teeth all over your neck; everything in you fought to keep your moans down, because you didn’t want him to know how much you loved this, how close you were to coming without even doing anything… without even taking your clothes off!

“Are you close?” you asked him softly, feeling him nod.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, and his heavy breathing cooled your skin where it was still wet with his spit.  “Just a little longer?”

“You’re not gonna give me a hickey, are you?” you whispered.

“Not if you don’t want me to,” he replied.  

“Just— make it quick, Tommy, we’ve gotta be downstairs soon,” you reminded him.

“Right, yeah, m’gonna come,” he promised, sending another chill over your body.  One of his hands moved down, holding your thigh as he thrusted faster and faster— fuck, the headboard was about to hit the wall.  Just as you looked up to see it slam once, you saw his free hand reach up and grab onto it tightly, blocking the impact with his knuckles.

“Tommy,” you breathed, an involuntary reaction to how deliberately sexy that was.

“Say it again,” he requested quietly.

“Tommy,” you repeated, and he grunted right against your ear— he didn’t stop moving entirely, just slowed down quite a bit as he rutted on you.  

“Fuck,” he sighed, panting.  You swallowed, feeling wonderfully strange knowing that must be it, that he just came— because of you.  His weight sank down onto you, making you let out a little squeal from the air rushing out of your lungs, and he laughed quietly.  “Sorry,” he mumbled, lifting himself up and hovering above you again, “didn’t mean to crush you…”

“S’all fine, Tom,” you promised, closing your legs as soon as you had the chance— before he could see that you’d soaked through your panties.

“Oh, ‘Tom’, eh?  Gettin’ formal, are we?” he grinned.  “Now that you’ve got me to bust in me trousers, we’re not so friendly anymore?”

“Shut up,” you laughed as you pushed him aside, swinging your legs off the bed so you could get up.  “Gonna use the loo and then I’ll get dressed.”

“What?!” he croaked.  “You kidding?  Of course I get to use the loo first!”

“Not if I get there before you,” you challenged, jumping up and trying to race him across the hotel room.  He beat you, but only by playing dirty— he ran up behind you and grabbed you, spinning you around as you kicked and laughed and squirmed in his grasp.

two weeks later

Moonshine on the bay had become a tradition on nights like this, when the warmth of summer was creeping around the corner, ever since you were both fifteen and in desperate need of some rebellion.  Now, without the illegality and all, it had lost some of that titillating appeal, but you still loved going out so late and meeting him at your secret spot.  It had the perfect view of the water at night, not that it was a particularly scenic section of the sea since it was mostly cargo ships and docks and all that, but under the flickering old street lamp and the tall field elms, it was almost romantic.

Tommy was currently still standing while you leaned back on your hands, brandishing the liquor he’d secured for the evening.  “For you,” he offered you the opened bottle with a smile, and you took it, but waited for him to take a sip of his first.  He did, and you saw his lips curling as he drank.

“How is it?” you asked, and he stopped drinking to cough a bit.

“It’s hangin’!” he grimaced.  “But it’ll do the job.”

You took a sip while he sat down next to you, and made a face of your own.  “Ah fuck!  That’s terrible!  Where the fuck’d you get this?”

But you knew what he meant when he said it would do the job— one sip was already warming your chest, and the next, though just as disgusting as the last, made you feel tingly at the tips of your fingers.

With your bottles halfway finished, you two sat up in the grass and watched the lights of ships go by slowly in the night.  “Had a date last night,” you blurted out suddenly, just to make conversation.

“Really?  With who?”

“You remember Jack Meyer?”

“God, I wish I didn’t,” he sneered, “what a knob.”

“Could you stop insulting all the guys I go out with?” you frowned.

“Stop going out with knobs and I will,” he bargained.

“Anyways, he was nice,” you announced firmly.  “Took me to the cinema and bought me a popcorn.”

“What size?” he asked.

“Medium.”

“Cheap bastard,” Tom grumbled.

“Shut up!  I’m trying to tell you that it was a nice date!” you yelped, pushing him on the shoulder.  “We actually, um… well, maybe I shouldn’t tell you.”

“What?” he wondered.

“I mean, I tell you everything— you tell me everything.  You told me when Sharon Caldwell let you feel her tits in eighth grade, and you told me when you lost it to Annie— what was her name again?”

“Annie Shaw,” he finished for you.

“Right… so, point is, I figured I should tell you what happened with me and Jack, right?” you wondered.  When you found the courage to look over at Tommy, his expression was… intense.  Almost angry, a little terrified.

“Don’t tell me you gave it up to him,” he pleaded, leaning in a little closer.

“God no!  I just wanked him a bit.”

"You did what to 'im?!" Tommy yelped.

"W-well, I dunno!" you backpedalled quickly. 

“Aw, birdie, you can do so much better than him,” he groaned.

“Okay, maybe so, but he’s the one I wanted to go out with.  And he was nice and he made me feel— I dunno, pretty?” you mumbled, afraid to sound too girlish.

“Come on, you can’t go rubbing off any guy who calls you pretty,” Tom scolded.

“This isn’t just any guy!”

“Yeah, it’s Jack Meyer.  In fourth year he swallowed a penny and it never came out!”

“Believe it or not, Tommy, it's not fourth year anymore,” you frowned.  “Things are different.  We’re older.  I’m not a little kid— and I’m tired of being treated like one!”

He sighed slowly, taking another swig of the booze.  “I guess that’s fair,” he relented.  “Still… can’t stand thinking about you doing that to some guy.”

"Why?"

He seemed confused by your question, and gave you a look.

"Why can't you stand thinking about it?" you interrogated.

"I… I don't know…"  He coughed a bit, clearly wanting to change the subject, but you kept staring at him as you waited for an answer.  “I guess it’s just that,” he began again, “I worry because it’s Jack, you know?  He’s a little aggressive with girls— or, he was back when I knew him.  He didn’t… pressure you into it, right?”

You thought back to the night before, and how it all happened.  “Erm, no,” you decided, “not really.”

“Not really?  What’s that mean?”

“Well, he didn’t make me do it,” you explained, “but he was… showing me how, ‘cause I didn’t know.”

“Sh-showing you?” Tom repeated.

“He, erm, he took my hand,” you remembered, feeling your heart start to race as you looked at Tom closely.  “And he put it… he put it right here.”

It was the liquor that made you do it; you pressed your hand up to the front of his trousers, feeling him getting firmer under your touch already.  He jumped a little but didn’t stop you.

"He told me to take it out for him…" you continued, voice wavering as your whole body was suddenly shivering from nervousness, and started to open his trousers yourself.

“Birdie,” Tom gasped, and you looked up to his face again.

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked him point blank.  He didn’t say anything.  “Can I keep going?”

His mouth was open slightly, and he was breathing heavily through it; he nodded.  You unzipped his fly and reached in, navigating the opening of his boxers to get his cock out.  

Of course, you’d felt it before, but you’d never seen it.  It was as beautiful as a cock could be, you thought: tanner than the rest of him for some reason, flushed at the tip, still just starting to poke out from his foreskin with a teal vein running up under your palm.  Biting your lip, you wrapped your fingers a little tighter around it.  “H-he told me to stroke it, like this,” you stammered, moving your hand gently and slowly from the base to the tip and back— then again, and again.

Daring to glance up at Tom’s face again, you saw him watching your hand with a dumbstruck expression.  You twisted your hand slightly as you reached the tip and he groaned.  "Birdie…" he sighed— his voice wore some impossible mixture of arousal, confusion, scolding, disappointment, and desperation.  It made your knees weak.  Good thing you were still kneeling on the ground, so it didn’t make much difference.  You were so sloshed that standing up would’ve been a bit of an effort, anyway.

“When I was doing it right,” you continued, “he’d tell me I was bein’ good for him… it made me feel weird when he said that, but good.  You know?”

“Y-yeah…” he choked, hissing through his teeth.  

It went on that way for a little while, just his panting and the crickets chirping; though there was clear fluid leaking from the tip of his cock, you thought it might not be enough, so you pursed your lips and let your spit dribble down onto him so you could spread it out with your hand.

“Christ,” he groaned, “Jack taught you that, too?”

You nodded, and he growled a little— the sound made your chest tighten up (as well as a few other places).  His cock was starting to bob against your grip, and his breathing was faster and heavier with each stroke.  "You're close?" you noticed, and he nodded, chest heaving as he stared down at what you were doing to him.  "You can come, Tom.  I want you to."

"Shit," he hissed.  "Shit, jus' don't stop then."

And you didn't, in fact you moved your hand even faster, until it was just a blur and he was bucking up into your palm desperately.

"Ah, fuck!" he gasped, and come started to spurt from his pulsing cock, landing on his shirt and your hand.  "Fuck…"

You watched his face as it tilted back, his eyebrows knitted together, his mouth parted in a little moan.  Your hand was still moving, and his jumped up to grab your wrist and stop you.  Then it was still, and silent, except for him breathing like he'd just run a marathon.

After a moment, he tilted his head down again and came back to reality; he instantly looked mortified.  "God, birdie," he choked, "I made a mess on you— m'so sorry, let me get it…"

He tried to wipe the come away with his shirt, frantically cleaning your hand up as best he could.  "It's fine, Tommy," you giggled.

"No it isn't, I've got your pretty hand all dirty now…"

Examining his focused expression as he wiped up the smears of come, you bit your lip slightly.  You did feel guilty for making up that whole story about a date with Jack Meyer that never did— and never would— happen, but it worked.  You’d never lied to Tommy like that before, but you decided to blame it on the liquor and not your desperation.  

In the two weeks since your holiday, nothing untoward whatsoever had happened between you and it was driving you crazy.  You didn’t even talk about it!  You, of course, thought about it every day— well, really every night, when you touched yourself and tried to remember exactly how his voice sounded in your ear.  That was what drove you to this, to getting drunk and making shit up for a chance to touch him.

"Kiss me," you said suddenly.  He looked up at your face, and you just stared at each other for a second.  

His hand dropped yours— it was clean now, or clean enough at least— and moved up to hold your face.  You sighed slightly; his thumb stroked your cheek and he smiled at you.

He gently tilted your head down and met you halfway, pressing his lips to your forehead.  Your chest deflated and your eyes fell shut.  So this is what heartbreak feels like.  It's not as bad as I thought.

"That better?" he asked as he pulled back, moving his own face down so he could look up at you with a tender smile.  You nodded, willing yourself not to cry in front of him now.  

You were throwing yourself at him and he was throwing you away.  "We'll always be friends, won't we?" you asked quietly.

"Aw, birdie— of course," he cooed, pulling you into a hug.  You clutched at his shoulders, digging your nails into handfuls of his ratty old Nirvana t-shirt.

He rolled back onto the grass and pulled you down with him, making you laugh and try to get away— but he wouldn't let you go.

"We'll always be friends," he promised again, "'cause otherwise who'd keep all those awful boys away from you?"

"Shut up," you rolled your eyes.

"I will," he sighed, relaxing his grip on you slightly.  "I'm gonna ease up on you, I think.  Let you date somebody if you want— even if he's a tosser.  'Cause you're right, you're not a little kid anymore.  And it's not fair to you."

You swallowed, laying your head on his chest.  You'd never actually wanted him to let you date someone else… you just wanted him to finally love you back.  But maybe this was the best you were going to get.

~

“Go, Tommy!” you cheered from the side of the pitch, though he surely couldn’t hear you through all that.. rugby-ing.  Rugbing?

Whatever— point is, you clapped and hollered anyways as you watched him run all over the place, narrowly dodging being tackled a few times.  You winced when he got taken down from the side by one of the biggest guys out there.  Tommy had a high pain tolerance, but you’d rather not see him lose a tooth or something.  What a waste of a perfect smile that would be.

For all their efforts, Tommy’s team lost by just a few points; it was just a scrimmage, hence why there was basically no one else here but you and the actual team members, so you hoped he wouldn’t be pouty the rest of the day after losing.  He didn’t seem to be, from what you could tell this far away— he was shaking hands and bumping fists, sweaty and streaked with dirt and grass as he chugged from his water bottle.  It really should not have been as attractive as it was…

Before you got caught ogling, someone caught your attention: “Hey,” one of the players jogged up to you, and you blinked up at him blankly, not sure who he was.  You’d definitely seen him before, you remembered his dreads and… overall massiveness.  But you weren’t sure what he was talking to you for.  “You’re here with Tom, yeah?”

“Oh, yes,” you smiled.

“He said you’re an old mate of his,” the player went on.

“Mhm,” you nodded.

“Sweet of you to come cheer him on,” he laughed, “even though it didn’t seem to do him much good today.”

You shrugged.  “He loses a lot, but he always gets back up.”

“I’m Rhys, by the way,” he offered.  “I’d shake your hand or somethin’, but I’m pretty filthy at the moment.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you laughed.  “Surprised you haven’t gone to the showers already, that’d be the first thing I’d be doing after getting that sweaty.”

“Well, I was gonna,” he explained, “but, well, I was afraid you’d be gone before I got back.”

You raised an eyebrow, wondering what that meant, and he continued on.

“Listen, I asked Tom, but I figured I should ask you… er…” he stalled as he smiled nervously.  “Have you got a boyfriend or anythin’?”

“Er, no,” you answered.

“Issuh?” he laughed.

“Yes!” you insisted.  “You think I’m lying or something?”

“I think it’s a little too good to be true, that’s all,” he explained.  “Girl like you shouldn’t stay single too long.”

You kept waiting for Tommy to come ruin it— to come rescue you.  You glanced over, and you saw him look back at you, but he just smiled and kept working on the laces of his cleats.

“So, I guess I should ask for your number before it’s too late, yeah?” Rhys continued.  You were pulled out of your thoughts, looking up at him and dropping your mouth open as you hoped for some words to come out.

“Oh!  Erm,” you began, “well—”

“It’s okay if not,” he promised, “but, you know… I’d like it.  So I can call you sometime or something— maybe I’ll have worked up the nerve to ask you out by then.”

Your cheeks were warm, but so were the backs of your eyes.  You never thought you would miss it, Tom running up and putting his arm around you, shooting whatever guy you were talking to a glare that made everyone feel uncomfortable; you glanced over at him again, watching him chat and laugh with some of the other guys.  He was just going to let this happen, wasn’t he?  And so were you.  “Yeah,” you finally blurted out, “sure— got your phone now?  I’ll put it in for you.”

“Great,” he smiled, pulling his phone out of his pocket and handing it to you.  “Wow, that went surprisingly well.”

“Are you that surprised?” you laughed as you added yourself as a contact.

“These things don’t normally go right for me,” he explained.

“For you?” you glanced up at him incredulously.

“Now, don’t give me an ego,” he chuckled, and you laughed with him.

You quickly held his phone up to take a selfie with your tongue sticking out, adding it as your contact photo.  “There you go,” you handed it back to him, and he looked at it with a wide smile on his face.

“Aw, that’s rich,” he said, and you bit your lip.  “I really should hit the showers now, but, I’ll call you?”

“Okay,” you smiled, “I’ll answer.  Probably.”

He waved at you as he left, looking down at your contact in his phone one more time with a shake of his head, before disappearing into the little tunnel through the stands.

You told Tom you would wait for him until he was all done, but god, he was taking forever getting cleaned up.  In fact, everyone else had left when he finally came out in his change of clothes and found you leaning against the cement wall outside the practice facility.  “Fuck took you so long?” you groaned as he appeared.

“You know how long it takes to wash off after a match like that?” he laughed.  “You wouldn’t have walked home with me in the state I was in.”

“Okay, fair enough,” you sighed, “can we go now?” 

“Well, um— actually, I have to get my bag from the locker room…”

“Oh my god,” you whined.

“Don’t get teazy, I just have to pack up all my gear,” he scolded.

“I’m coming with you,” you insisted, “and helping you carry it so we can get fuckin’ home already.”

“Fine, fine,” he laughed, starting back as you followed along with him.  “Lucky for you, it’s empty.”

“Aw,” you faked a pout, “no sexy rugby boys to look at?”

“Just me,” he smiled— and fuck, he was joking, but it scared you for a second.

There was a little awkward pause while he guided you around the bend into the locker area, left surprisingly clean after the boys were finished; it was only Tom’s locker open, with his things all strewn about, and you sighed.  “Look at the mess you made…” you breathed, starting to help him clean it up and get his things together.

“Rhys finally asked you out, then?” Tommy grinned, elbowing you lightly.

“O-oh, yeah,” you breathed, “erm, well— he just got my number, no date yet or anything.”

“Well, it’s a start.  I didn’t want to give him your number for you, but he asked me for it— actually, he’s asked about you a couple times now.”

“You think he’s good enough for me?” you asked.

“I mean, I dunno,” Tommy shrugged, “I don’t know him that well.  But he seems nice enough— figure you can decide the rest.”

You sighed, nodding a little.

“If he tries anything, though, you let me know and I’ll set him straight, alright?” he added, and you laughed.

“Alright, I will,” you agreed, kneeling down to get some of his clothes from off the floor and stuff them into the duffel.  “Not sure how you’re gonna do that when he’s got a metre on you and maybe twenty pounds of muscle—”

“Shut up,” Tom scoffed.  “You know I can take any guy down if it’s got to do with you.”

Your throat caught, and you stood up again.  "Tommy, listen, I actually— I wanted to… talk to you."

He cleared his throat, looking nervous as he rubbed the back of his neck.  "Yeah?  You're all good, right?  Everythin's okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," you nodded, leaning back against the lockers, "I just… I was thinking about you."

He stepped up closer to you, close enough that your heart started to race.  "Oh… what about me?"

"Well, about us," you clarified, "you and me— I want… erm…"

"Hm?"

"I just— you know how we sometimes…?"

He leaned his head in a little closer, waiting with raised eyebrows for you to get to your point.

"That thing we do, sometimes?" you started again.  "I wanna… do it again."

He nodded, like he understood, but then paused and moved his mouth over to the side.  "You wanna go to the cinema?"

You laughed, more out of frustration than amusement, and tilted your head forward to rest on his chest.  "God, Tommy…"

"What?" he laughed.

"I— I want—"  

You couldn't look up at him as you said it.  You took a deep breath and tried to compose your bravery.

"I want us to touch each other again," you finally rushed out.  You waited for him to say something, or do something, but he didn't.  “Like when we were on holiday,” you recalled, toying with the hem of his shirt.  “And that night on the bay…”

“God, birdie, I— I dunno if I can do that again,” he breathed, and you felt your eyes start to burn a bit.

“Really, Tommy?” you sighed.  “I’m that… repulsive?  Or is it Rhys?  ‘Cause all he’s done is get my number—”

“N-no,” he groaned, “shit, m’not makin’ any sense.  I can’t do that again with you because it’s too hard, okay?”

You looked up at him, knitting your eyebrows together.  “What’s too hard?”

“Touchin’ you like that,” he whispered— even now, the way he said made your spine tingle— glancing down from your eyes to your lips and back, “and havin’ to act normal again.  Not bein’ your boyfriend.”

Of everything you thought he might say then, you never expected that.  You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling, even when you bit your bottom lip.  A laugh broke out through your grin, and you had to cover your mouth to try to hide it.

“Jesus, you’re laughin’ at me now!” he lamented.  “I finally tell you and you laugh at me!  You’re heartless, you know that?”

“No, Tommy, v’got a heart— and it’s all yours,” you promised, standing up on your toes to peck him on the cheek.  He gave you a confused look, and you laughed again.  “You don’t get it do you, still?  I’ve fancied you for ages— proper in love with you, really.  Kept askin’ you to do all that stuff ‘cause, well, you’re all I think about anyways.  Thought you were just doing me favours.”

After a pause, he finally laughed with you.  “Am I a fuckin’ idiot, then?  You’ve had it goin’ for me all this time and I didn’t notice?”

“You’re a little stupid,” you mitigated.  “I think I was being pretty obvious.”

“Yeah, and what about me?” he noticed.  “I’ve been all over you forever— kissin’ and huggin’ you, cuddling all the time— you didn’t notice that I think you’re fit?”

You shrugged.  "You've always been like that."

"Yeah!" he emphasised.

"Ohhhh," you nodded, "hm.  Okay, we're both a little stupid."

“Birdie,” he smiled, and your heart melted, because he’d never said it quite like that before.  He leaned in and gave you a kiss on the cheek.

“You can really kiss me, you know,” you told him, and he pulled away just enough to look at you with an impossible-to-read expression.  “I-if you want,” you mitigated suddenly, and he smiled at you, then laughed.

“Aw, fuck, Tommy,” you turned your head to the side, “you’re awful…”

He put his hand on the side of your face, gently turning you to look at him.  “Yeah,” he agreed.  And then he moved in closer and kissed you— properly, finally.  You shut your eyes, your chest emptying with a sigh; his other hand held your face then, too, and you reached up to hold his wrists.  Your right hand felt the worn-out old bracelet that he still wore, and you couldn’t help but smile a bit against him.  He smiled, too.

“Tommy,” you sighed, reaching out and grabbing him by his belt to pull him closer.  He pressed his forehead on yours, looking down at your hands working on the buckle shakily. 

“Birdie, c’mon,” he gasped, “not here—”

You pouted a little, and he laughed.

“We waited all this time and you can’t wait until we get home?”

“Yes!” you whined.  “I need you…”

“Shit,” he groaned, kissing you again— but just for a few very passionate seconds before he pulled back once more.  “We’ll go home and I’ll do this right, I swear.”

“Why can’t we just do it here?” you wondered.

“Because if you told me some guy had taken your virginity in a rugby practice field locker room, I would kill him,” Tom frowned.  

You laughed.  “Fine, fine… let’s go home.”

~ 

Thank god his parents weren’t home.  You didn’t want to try to be quiet.

He had you in his bed the second the door was shut, kissing you voraciously as he helped you undress and tore his own shirt and trousers off.  For a guy who was just preaching patience, he was pretty hasty all of a sudden.

When all you had on were your panties, he set his arms straight to hover over you and stare down at you, looking a little dumbstruck.  You almost felt self-conscious enough to try to cover your chest, but he smiled at you and you felt a little better.  “You’re so… fuck, birdie, you’re pretty.”

It was a simple compliment, but it felt incredibly powerful when he said it like that.  He was in his boxers, and it wasn’t too much more skin than you’d already seen while swimming with him and such, but it was different with his massive hard-on making a visible imprint in the patterned cotton.  

Gently, he spread your legs, and tightened his jaw at the sight of the wet patch on your underwear.  “Oh, fuck,” he sighed.

“I always get like that,” you admitted quietly.  “Should be easy for you to fuck me, right?”

“Yes, yeah,” he agreed, “but m’not gonna fuck you yet.”

You frowned a little, and he laughed as he kissed you again.

“I told you I’m doing this the right way,” he insisted, “it’s your first time.  It’ll hurt if I just go for it.”

He leaned back and sat up, bringing his hands down to the waistband of your panties and gently dragging them down your legs; you felt gooseflesh spread all over your body.

“Oh, darling,” he whispered as he opened your legs again, looking right at you now.  You squirmed a little, but his grip on your thighs was tight.  “I need you to tell me now if you’ve changed your mind about this… ‘cause I can already tell I’m gonna have a hard time stopping once I start.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you were sure, you were so sure.  “I haven’t changed my mind,” you promised.

“I won’t get mad at you or anything,” he assured.

“I know— I’m sure,” you breathed.  Wondering if you should return the sentiment, you asked, "You're sure you wanna do this?  With me?"

"Birdie, I've wanted to do this with you since I knew what this was," he smiled.

"And you don't mind that I've never…"

"No, birdie, I don't mind," he laughed.  "Think it's perfect actually.  Couldn't let any other lad be your first.  Couldn't let any other lad touch you like this."

You bit your lip.  “You were gonna let me go out with Rhys,” you reminded him.

“I let you give him your number.  We hadn’t even gotten to you going out with him,” Tom corrected.  “And I was acting fine as best I could but I was really jumpin’, birdie, thinking about if something might happen with you two— something like this…”

You whined as you tugged on his shirt, hoping to hide your face in his neck, but he pulled his face back so he could look down at you with a smile.  "Tommy, please," you whimpered.  

"Please, what?" he encouraged.

"Jus' need you…"

He kissed your neck again, making your back arch and your hands grab onto his shoulders, and pressed his hips down against you.  You whined at the feeling of his erection through clothes, but opened your eyes in confusion when he pulled back again just a moment later, hovering over you.  "Say my name when I make you come, yeah?" he instructed, and you nodded.  "Try it on for size just once, why don'tya," he encouraged with a smile.

"Tommy," you smiled back, and he kissed the tip of your nose.

"That's m'girl," he praised, before crawling back down, kissing a trail over your stomach, moving his hand up your thigh.

He just kept his face right up close to you, watching his finger swipe through your folds, then watching it gently circle your clit.  You whimpered, and felt your insides flex on nothing.  Apparently, that made him want to give you something to clench on— he gently slipped his pointer finger past your opening, and you let out a long sigh.

“So warm inside,” he observed.  He pulled the finger back out a second later, putting it in his mouth and humming happily.  He put his mouth on you at the same time that he put the finger back in, along with a second; that was a lot to take in, and your back arched up off the bed instantly.  He mouthed at your clit, swirling his tongue around while his lips created this wonderful pressure; you had to grab onto his hair, and thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind.

Eventually, he did have to break away for a second.  "Wondered how you'd taste," he admitted with a sigh.  

"Well?" you prompted.

"Taste like 'eaven, birdie," he purred.  "Sweet little pussy— an' it's all for me?"

"All yours," you nodded, and he growled a little as he dove back in.

The tip of his tongue slid right up from your opening to where your clit was swollen and throbbing— he pushed his tongue flat against it and you whimpered loudly.  He started to really fuck you with his fingers then, rather than just letting the natural movement of your hips force you to ride them; they curled inside you, hitting a spot that made your own fingers curl into fists in his hair.  You didn’t want to hurt him, but he didn’t mind getting his hair pulled, apparently, and just moaned lowly against you.

The pressure started weighing on your gut after a while, your pussy tensing up on him faster and faster until it was just bearing down on him unendingly.  “Fuck, Tommy,” you gasped.

“C’mon, birdie,” he mumbled against you, “wan’ you to come.  Go ahead and come for me, yeah?”

You called out his name one more time, and it all spilled over at once; he shut his eyes tight, letting you pull his face right up against you by his curls as your hips bucked and grinded on him.  You sobbed weakly, and when it was suddenly too much, he broke away and pinned you down for a messy kiss.

It left you even more breathless than you already were.  When he pulled back, his eyes were a little glazed over and his lips and chin were a lot glazed over; he gave you a crooked smile.  “Taste how sweet you are?” he purred.  You wouldn’t call it sweet, really, but it still turned you on like crazy to hear him say it.

“Please, Tom,” you gasped, grabbing his shoulders, “you’ll fuck me now, right?”

He nodded, and you let out a sigh of relief.  “Sure you’re ready?” he asked, laughing when you groaned and punched him on the arm.

“Course I’m fuckin’ ready!” you snapped.  “God, Tommy, you always give ‘em all this rigamarole first?”

He shook his head.  “Just you, birdie… it was always just you.”

Kissing you again, his breath changed as he reached down to push his boxers out of the way and kick them off to the floor.  The way it felt to have his bare skin against yours as he lowered himself down was… euphoric.  Warm and soft and smooth, and when he wrapped you in his arms, it felt like he could just absorb you entirely.  You wouldn’t mind it if he did.

He'd prepared you so well that there was only one quick sting of pain when he pushed inside you— though just that was still enough to make one tiny tear roll down your temple, which he kissed away softly.

"Are you alright?" he whispered.  You nodded.  "I need you to tell me, birdie."

"I'm okay," you promised through a sigh.  "It hurts a little, b-but please don't stop."

"You're sure?"

"Please!"

He pushed his hips flush with yours and you gritted your teeth, though everything in you relaxed just a moment later; and all that was left was the fullness, the warmth of him, the way his eyes sparkled as he looked down at you.  "You're so beautiful," he whispered to you, and you bit your lip.

"I love you, Tommy," you mumbled weakly, and he planted one soft kiss on your mouth.

"I love you too, darling."

He carefully began to move, needing to reach down with one hand to keep your hips steady.  Your moans were shaky at first, but got louder and more even with each movement.  

"You're… so deep," you breathed.  "Tommy, I— I didn't know anything could be so deep in me."

"Well, I am," he grinned.  "I'm right… here."

He pressed down on your stomach, right on the spot where the tip of his cock reached— and your eyes rolled back.  "Ohh, god," you whined.

"You feel it, love?" he cooed.

"Yes, yes," you groaned.  "Fuck, Tommy, why didn't you tell me you had a perfect cock?"

He laughed a little, leaning down to kiss you on the jaw.  "Guess it never came up."

"Does it always… is it always like this?" you wondered.  "It's so good, does it always feel this good?"

He shook his head, kissing your forehead and then trailing down your nose and cheek.  "No, it's not always like this," he answered quietly.  "Not for me, anyway.  It's never been like this."

His lips met yours again, and you reached up to weave your fingers into the hair at the back of his neck.  He groaned a little, moving his hips faster, and you smiled.  "Do you wanna fuck me harder?" you asked.

"Fuck," he mumbled, "I— I could.  Do you want me to?"

"I can take it," you promised.

Picking up the pace slightly, he held you tighter; and you felt each impact a little harder, the sound of his skin on yours echoing around the room.  “Like that?” he asked.

“Yes,” you answered— you meant it more neutral than it came out, it sounded proper pornographic the way you said it, and he smiled.  “More, Tommy, please?  Jus’ want more…”

He hissed but did as he was told, latching onto your neck with his lips as he let something a little more animalistic take over, making you cry out and hold onto him tighter.  “Beautiful,” he grunted, “you’re so beautiful, birdie— you sound beautiful.”

“It’s just ‘cause you’re making me sound like this,” you sighed, clutching at his back, too overwhelmed by pleasure to worry about scratching him up.

“I’m giving you a hickey this time,” he informed you.  “You want my mark on you, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you admitted, “always, Tommy— fuck, always wanted it.”

“‘Cause you’re mine, yeah?”

“Always,” you whimpered.

“A-ah, shit— when it’s time, I'll pull out, okay?" he offered.

"No," you whined, wrapping your legs around his hips.  "Tommy, please, want it inside…"

"Birdie," he breathed roughly, "if you say things like that, I-I'll come too fast."

“Don’t care,” you whimpered.  “Promise you’re gonna come inside me.”

“F-fuck,” he groaned, “erm— yeah, m’gonna come in ya, okay?”

You choked out the shortest sob of joy.  “Please, please— fuck, I’ll come again…”

“Yeah, fuck, c’mon then,” he praised, “just say my name, birdie— I wanna hear my name.”

“Tommy,” you cried, feeling him gasp against your neck as another wave of heat spread over your body; feeling him flex inside you right as you hit your own peak was so perfect.  You could’ve never described your emotions in that moment with words, but they found their way out anyways: you started crying, instantly.

“Don’t cry, birdie, shh,” he soothed quietly, wiping your tears away with his thumb.  “C’mon, darling, don’t cry—”

“N-no, Tommy,” you sniffled, “I’m just happy— I’m so happy, I swear…”

So he let you cry, and held you close to him; he didn’t leave until you fell asleep, even though he said he was just going to get you a washcloth and a cup of water and come right back.  He played with your hair and kissed your face, and just talked about all the normal things you usually talked about— as in, everything.  But this time, it was actually everything, no more hidden feelings.

You didn’t remember falling asleep, but after one of those dreamless sleeps that went by quickly— like you’d only shut your eyes for a few minutes— you woke up tangled with him and his sheets.  Turning on your side as best you could, you looked at his sleeping face and smiled to yourself.  He woke up just a bit later, cutting your staring short, and smiled back at you.

“Top of the morning, my ‘ansum,” you greeted as you pinched his cheek.  He laughed and batted your hand away, hiding his face from the sun under his arm.  

“You kicked me in your sleep,” he grumbled.

“So it’s all over, then?  Final straw, you’re finally getting rid of me?” you joked.

“Mm, I thought about it,” he snorted, making you laugh.  He popped his face up again and started to kiss your face all over.

“Tommy, stop,” you whined.

“You can’t make me stop now,” he pointed out, “it’s one thing to get your best friend to stop kissing you, but your boyfriend?  Nah, m’not stopping.”

You laughed, his hand on your waist pulling you closer to him only making you feel more ticklish and squirm more.  You only stilled when he grabbed your face and gave you a real kiss, and everything seemed to slow down quite a bit.  You kissed him back, properly, reaching up to weave your fingers in his hair.  “So, you’re my boyfriend, then?” you noticed when you broke away.

“No, I think we’re still just friends,” he nodded, and you laughed and shoved him on the chest.  

“Might as well be, everything we did before sayin’ we were only friends,” you admitted.

“I’m whatever you want me to be, birdie,” he promised.

#tom (make up) x reader #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #tom (make up) smut #make up (2019) fic #tom grant x reader #tom grant smut

[clusterbuck]

got the notion

7x02 coda

Hen drives to the firehouse, and changes her mind with every stoplight she hits.

Red light. Maybe this is an overreaction. 

Green light. Bobby and Athena need help. 

Red light. Cruise ships are built to withstand the weather, and the Uno had turned away from the storm. The Coast Guard has to be aware of the storm by now, and they’ll be on high alert for any distress. 

Every rational thought points to everything being fine.

But—the light turns green, Hen hits the gas, and she remembers a sunny afternoon six years ago. Then, too, every rational thought had pointed to everything being fine, until she and Buck had found Bobby passed out cold. 

There’s just one nagging thought at the back of her mind. 

“Hey, Siri,” she says, slowing down at yet another red light. “Call Karen.” 

“What did Maddie say?” Karen asks as soon as she picks up. Her voice is concerned, and Hen loves her for it. Karen, at least, understands.

“Am I overreacting?” Hen asks instead of answering. The question had been building so long it needed to escape. 

“Tell me what Maddie said first,” Karen says. “I can’t answer without all the information.”

“She thinks something happened,” Hen says. “She called the local 911 down in Mexico, apparently they got a bunch of calls from the ship that all dropped.” 

“Sure sounds like something happened,” Karen says. “So, you’re going out there?” She sounds the way she always does when Hen is about to run headfirst into danger, proud and terrified all at once.

“I—” Hen says, her fingers gripping the steering wheel. “I was going to, but I ran into Chief Simpson.” 

“Oh,” Karen says, then, “oh no, he didn’t fire you?”

“No,” Hen says. “Just told me to get back to work. I told him about the ship, but he just said it’s not in our jurisdiction.” 

“Oh,” Karen says again. There’s a humming on the line like she’s about to say something else, but she stays silent and lets Hen gather her thoughts.

“Is he right?” she asks, after another few seconds of silence. “Am I making the wrong call again?”

“What do you mean again?” Karen asks. “Didn’t you just say he told you to go back to work? That means you made right call, doesn’t it?”

“Just because it wasn’t wrong doesn’t mean it was right,” Hen says. “It was—Karen, I honestly don’t know what it was.”

“We don’t need to figure that out right now,” Karen says. “Do you think going after Bobby and Athena is the right call?” 

Hen takes a breath. One second stretches into two, then five, and still, she doesn’t answer.

“Hen,” Karen says. “What does your instinct say?” 

“Something is wrong,” Hen says. “I know it is. And the ocean may not be part of the LAFD’s jurisdiction, but Bobby and Athena are my jurisdiction.” 

“Then go get ‘em,” Karen says. “But, Hen?” 

“Yeah?”

“Come home to me.” Karen’s voice doesn’t shake, but Hen knows that’s only thanks to years and years of practice.

“I will,” Hen says. “I promise.” 

By the time she hits the red light around the corner from the firehouse, Hen is certain that she’s made the right decision. She might have forgotten it for a moment, but she trusts her instincts. 

The only uncertainty remaining is how she’s going to convince the rest of the team to accompany her, with nothing but a map of ships off the California coast and a bad gut feeling to go off.

But when she walks into the app bay, Chimney, Eddie, and Buck are lined up and waiting for her.

“Get changed and let’s go,” Eddie says. “Chopper’s on the way.”

Hen blinks. “How did you—”

“Maddie called,” Chimney says, brandishing his phone. “So I called Tommy, called in a favour.”

“Don’t you still owe him from last time?” Buck asks, and Chimney frowns.

“Well techincally—”

“We can settle it on the way,” Hen says, before the two of them can really start bickering, but her heart feels like it grows a size with every half-jogged step towards the locker room.

Bobby and Athena are their jurisdiction, and they’re on their way. 

#911fic #hen wilson #911 7x02 #911 spoilers #shush emma #emma writes #they threw off my lyrics from a soundtrack song naming scheme so the title is from the song rock the boat instead #this was hard bc everything is kind of unfinished and i like to do look back and reflect codas lmao #but here we are anyway

[kissesfrombangtanatnight]

Pillow Talk: Jimmy Uso

AN I do not own the image in this image.

You lied in your husbands muscular arms feeling so loved and secure. He lied beside you kissing along your collarbone ever so gently.

"Look, if you think you're about to sweet talk your way into round three, you're wrong. I'm tired as hell and sore. Nobody told you to be going that damn hard." You say playfully hitting his arm. He looks down smirking at you.

"If I remember correctly, you were yelling out daddy, fuck me harder! right there! ahh! just a few moments ago." He says imitating your high pitched moans.

"Boy shut uppp." You say hiding your face in his chest as if this weren't y'alls umpteenth time having sex. But, every time felt so different with him. He knew your body and needs like the back of his hand. Your man was ready to do whatever, whenever, however to your body, all you had to do was give him the green light. "But seriously babe, I don't think I'm gonna make it to work in the morning." You groan.

"If I don't have that thang sore, I ain't doin my job. Besides, you were gonna call in sick anyway. I did you a favor." You playfully roll your eyes though he can't see in the dimly lit room. A comfortable silence falls between you to as you trace the tattoos on his lower arm.

"Baby, you remember how we met?" He asks suddenly, caressing your hip. You think back to the time you and Jimmy met twelve years ago.

"How can I forget. You came up to me talkin bout some you're gonna be my wife. Boy you just don't know you almost got your ass slapped. No, for real, you was about to have me kill your future generations with one damn kick between your legs." You say looking up at him as he laughs.

"So am I wrong for speaking it into existence? You're right here aren't you? I knew I had you the minute I walked up. You were then one, I had to let you know." He smiles that beautiful smile of his.

"I'm just saying, can't be saying shit like that these days. Have you six feet under."

"But seriously though, I'm glad I did. We've come a long way. It hasn't always been easy and I know there were plenty of times we both could've walked away, but we didn't. What we've built these past decade can't be broken. I love you so much. You're my world, aside from my kids. I love you. I love you. I love you." He says in between kisses.

"I love you more than you know. I've never felt love like this. Like, I found everything I every wanted and needed in a husband in you. And one day, everything I need in the father of my children. I got you no matter what, and you don't have to doubt that. Good or bad, thick or thin, know that I'll be right there." You say sincerely kissing his smiling lips. You pull him closer, tangling your hand in the nap of his neck. His beautiful hair falling down his face. Your tongue explored each others mouths as you let out soft whimpers. He's already hard again and your wetness is making your thighs slippery. If the mood couldn't have been more set, it began to rain outside.

"Speaking of. You make me wanna get you pregnant." He groans. You watch as he pulls away momentarily to get off the bed. You already knew what that meant. You turn around on your stomach and position yourself for him. Before you can even do it yourself, he grabs you by your ankles and pulls you to the end of the bed. He teases your wet entrance with his tip as you look back biting your lip in anticipation.

"Ready for me baby?" He asks pushing his tip into you causing you to gasp.

'Hell yeah, put that fuckin baby inside me." You beg. Nothing more needed to be said as he guides himself into you slowly. "Fuck baby." You hiss gripping on the sheets tightly as your man stretches you out.

"Say less baby because I'm about to make sure nothing spills out." He smirks knowing this was going to be a very, very long night for you.

#wwe smut #the bloodline #jimmy uso smut #jimmy uso x black reader #jimmy uso x reader #jimmy uso imagine #wwe bloodline #wwe imagine #wwe fanfiction #jimmy uso #jimmy uso fanfiction #wwe x reader

[rogueddie]

The Final Campfire T | 489 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is a fire that never goes out

Steve and Eddie had a little tradition that has built up over the years; whenever they're both able to get a week off of work, they go camping together.

For a week, they are alone and together.

They haven't been able to go camping for a while now, but it isn't because they don't have time off.

"It's a bad idea," Steve points out.

"One last time," Eddie pleads.

Eddie's hands shake slightly as he takes hold of Steves. They didn't know why his hands sometimes shake, but the doctors had reassured them that it was fine. It was a common thing that comes with old age.

"We can go to one of those tourist type ones so people are close by if we need anything," Eddie adds.

Steve's face scrunches up, emphasizing the wrinkles littering his face. "No. We just... won't go as far into the woods as we used to."

It takes them longer to get ready than usual, but that's mostly because they need more now. Steve's meds alone need their own little bag.

"You remembered to tell Dustin and Suzie?" Eddie asks, as they get in the car the next day.

"Yeah. They said they're gonna tell their little Steve all about it so, if we need help, he'll be ready to come save us."

"Good."

The woods of Hawkins used to be a scary place. The first few times they went camping, Steve had a rough time of it.

After fifty years, it's hard to feel that same fear. They both have too many happy memories amongst these trees. Too many times where they laughed, cried, played.

"I missed this," Steve admits, reluctantly sitting while Eddie sets up the campfire.

"Yeah, I did too." Eddie pants, finally pulling the last twig down and sitting next to Steve with a groan. "Didn't miss how much fucking work it takes."

Steve laughs, gently batting his arm. "That's nothing new."

Eddie lights a small branch on fire with his lighter, placing it amongst the smaller twigs and dry leaves, slowly setting the campfire alight.

He leans against Steve's side, whilst they watch the flame build, resting his head against his shoulder.

"I love you," Eddie mumbles.

Steve hum, grinning, bringing a hand up to play with his grey hair. "I love you too."

"It's hard to believe that it's been so long."

"Really?"

"Nah. More that, like... I didn't expect you to stick with me this long."

"You remember what I said? First time we were out here?"

"Back when we were dumb and cheesy?"

"Yeah."

Eddie is quiet for a moment, before whispering, "yeah, I remember."

Steve presses a gentle, lingering kiss to Eddie's forehead.

They both quietly sit, watching the flames of the campfire dance, Steve's words from so long ago echoing in their heads.

"I don't think I'll ever stop loving you. My love for you will burn long after our fires are extinguished."

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #nav.slm #day 26

[euaphoric]

lust.

✩‧₊˚ pairing — jungkook x f!reader, strangers to ??? (wtv they got going on in this dynamic)

✩‧₊˚ warnings — i was planning to make this way happier but i was in a sad mood so im sorry if it’s a little angsty? some fluff ig, sm*t, mentions of alcohol & smoking (cigs), dom!jk & sub!reader, hookup culture, slight corruption? oc cries a lot, spanking, ch*king, just a lot of freeky stuff, koo is a little mean in this oops

words: 3.2k // literally the longest thing i’ve wrote so far. also irdk what this is but i just kept going and couldn’t stop, kinda feels rushed toward the end cause i just wanted to get to the freaky parts sfsfjgs i’m sawry y’all

it happened 2 years ago, yet the memories of that fateful day still carry on with you as if it were yesterday. vibrant recollections of those slender, jewelled hands clasped around your neck as you cry out for him, body subconsciously submitting to all of him - breaking every barrier you’ve built up within. of all your years of existence, that night was the only time you’ve felt truly alive, shedding every ounce of innocence away in one night for a man whose name you didn’t even know.

do you regret losing your virginity to someone who only saw you as a temporary plaything? partly yes and partly no. you were conflicted on the fact you never exchanged info after he left but other than that, nothing regrettable came out of it. the only issue was that he’s set your standards far into oblivion, you’ve yet to find a lay as memorable as he was. it’s not as though you haven’t tried getting over it in the past - you’ve been desperately wishing to forget. suppressing your inner desires with all kinds of self pleasure methods; even going so far as to banging other hot strangers you meet from the bars/club - but even then, you couldn’t replicate how you felt with him and you still couldn’t reach your climax without thinking of your first time.

you catch yourself daydreaming of him daily. the raspy tone of his voice, the intoxicating scent of expensive cologne, the fluorescent, animated ink that adorned his arm along with a silver pierced lip and eyebrow, his sublime sense of style. everything you could’ve ever wanted, slipped away from your grasp forever. that was, until you were met face to face with him again - a total of 882 days later (yes you did the math). you went bar hopping downtown with all your girl friends, looking for an eventful weekend. little did you know you’d be running into him again, the nameless man that gave you a night to remember. you were definitely the first to notice him, it felt quite peculiar but as soon as you walked in you got struck with a weird deja vu moment. it all felt so familiar to you, even down to the symphonic melodies of jazz music playing in the distance, everything brought you back to that gloomy autumn night.

you’d try your dearest not to stare but your mind was not complying with any rationality, one look at his broad physique and it was endgame for all your sanity. it didn’t help that your body went inert, lost in a trance of him indefinitely, wanting nothing more than to worship him and give in to his every need. you reminisce about him telling you how much of a good girl you were for taking all of it, sucking on his fingers as you completely come undone underneath him. he left you begging for more that night, crying and pleading for at least a goodbye kiss - which you never got the pleasure of getting. “i told you this was a one time thing only.. besides, i’m leaving the city tomorrow for good so you’ll probably never see me again. it’s for the best anyway.”

his cold last words left more than a lasting impression on you. it sent you into an endless spiral of overthinking, analyzing any and everything you could’ve done wrong. did that night really mean absolutely nothing to him at all? all the countless times you’d touch yourself to vivid recounts of his face pressed into your thigh, plastering wet kisses all over them and sucking on your bruised skin. he’d spank each thigh one by one as a punishment, proudly smirking at the way you’d wince out in pain mixed with so much pleasure. he thrived off the idea that he was the first to corrupt you like this, a girl he hasn’t even known for a span of 24 hours willing to give up just about anything she had to offer. had you shamelessly wrapped around his finger like an brainless puppet.

you still don’t understand how someone can look so divine, even when doing nothing but just standing. you watch as he sips Viognier out of an oversized wine glass, gazing at the crowd, ruffling his fingers through his hair from time to time. then it became unreal when you locked eyes with him, catching him stealing a glance when he realizes who you were. you look almost exactly the same as you did a few years ago, the only part that’s different about you now is the recent butterfly tattoo you got on your lower back. that’ll be a pleasant surprise for him to find out. his eyes never drifted once they landed on you, he was in just as much shock as you were - maybe more. he’d made an internal promise to himself to keep you as a forever one time fling - nothing more just that, but if fate wasn’t real then why would the universe send you back into each other’s lives?

no, not a romantic kind of fate. the fate you get when someone you’ve mindlessly lusted over for ages has finally found its way to you again. a fate that doesn’t occur by chance, or coincidence, it was pure destiny awaiting to happen.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

“wow, you haven’t changed at all have you?” he says nonchalantly, acting as if you were an old friend he was catching up with. you weren’t sure how to respond, the surrealism of the moment brought you everywhere but reality. all you really could do was blink, fluttering your lashes at his towering figure over you. though there was a sea of people in this packed, lively bar, it felt like only you two existed in this confined space. he tried striking up the usual basic conversation with the typical, how’re your studies going? work’s been treating you well? anything exciting happen in your life recently? you gave as much of a vague answer as you could, barely putting any thought or effort, you were only giving him the same treatment that he gave back then. he would often come off as bored or condescending at times, it felt good to take back just the little bit of power you upheld.

you quietly observe as he orders another drink, two actually, not even bothering to ask what you wanted. he hands you a glass with a salted rim, the clear liquid made you believe it was either vodka or tequila, either way you gulped it down in no time and squeeze the lime on the side as chaser. you didn’t have much to drink but his presence alone was already enough to make you feel tipsy. “i thought you said you were never coming back to the city?” you blurt out, instantly scolding yourself for bringing up the past this quickly. it was just the undying curiosity of wanting to know the inner depths of him, not the stonewall of a persona he portrays to be. “i don’t know, guess i just felt like visiting. also had some unfinished business to attend to.” there he goes again with those subtle answers, toying with you so easily. his responses have always annoyed you to a certain extent but this feels even more strange for some reason. what’s the “unfinished business” he’s referring to?

“so” he pauses, never actually finishing his thought. “so..” you awkwardly mimic, hoping he’ll spit out whatever the hell he has to say. it took some time before he clears his throat and takes a sip of what seemed like his fiftieth drink tonight. “soo, do you…maybe wanna get out of here?” you’re not sure what’s with the shy act suddenly, he wasn’t this timid when you first met him. it’s like you’re meeting a whole new person. “uhm, sure i guess” you spoke hesitantly, taking his hand as he reaches out for yours. bumping into loads of drunk people while he weaved you through the crowd, it felt like multiple eternities before you’ve found the exit. he lights a cigarette before heading down the vintage spiral staircase, still hand in hand with you. “goddamn… look at your fine ass. still just as sexy as i remember you last time mamas.” he gracefully compliments, walking slightly behind in attempts of getting better sight at the back view of the form fitting dress you wore. his hand left yours in favor of wrapping around your waist. “t-thanks.” you reply sheepishly, hoping that he doesn’t notice how flushed your cheeks are.

before getting in his car, there was one more thing you needed closure with, the one thing that constantly kept you up at night. “i don’t mean to be this straightforward but, i want to know your name. i know this probably sounds really lame and pathetic but it’s been eating me up inside since the day we met and… i just- i think i deserve the right to know is all.” you wanted to scream at your poor delivery, sounding nowhere near as confident as you did in your head. the cigarette was still tucked between his lips, taking another long drag before answering you. “damn, even after all this time i still occupy your mind sweetheart? that’s adorable,” he teases, reveling in on your confession. “but i suppose i can agree with you since i did keep you guessing for so long. it’s only fair you should know, right?” that sly little smirk never left his face, he knows exactly how to mess with you. “it’s jungkook. and you are?” ah, so he really does have a name. “y/n.” you mutter, looking down at the pavement. “that’s pretty, i like it. suits you well.” his hand raises yours to his lips, kissing it gently, “nice to formally meet you y/n.” your eyes dart at him reluctantly, hoping your palms weren’t too clammy. “you too, jungkook.” none of this still felt real to you, you wanted to pinch yourself and wake up immediately. “it’s kinda hot the way you say my name.” he casually admits, the grin on his face deepens, “that won’t be the only thing you’ll be screaming at the top of your lungs tonight though.”

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

this certainly wasn’t the first (or last) time you found yourself like this. getting severe brush burn from the carpet by being obediently on your knees, swiftly bobbing your head as tears stream down your face, ruining your precious mascara. the only audible sounds were his groans echoing in the room of this giant suite at the four seasons. it gave a sense of familiarity, and oddly enough you found comfort in being in such a compromised situation. especially with him again. “fuck, you’re so pretty,” he grunts, grabbing a fistful of hair, never taking his eyes off you. “look even prettier with my cock stuffed deep in your mouth.” his words sent chills, all you wanted to do was keep pleasing him. your mind goes hazy from the end of his shaft hitting the back of your throat, other than the tears, you showed no outright emotion—you had to endure this, you’ve been praying for this moment since your first ever encounter. big doe eyes look up at him innocently as you suck the soul out of him, all the shiny gloss you wore on your lips now completely transferred onto him - in this perspective, you were utterly perfect.

“shit- you’re so good at this..” he hisses, watching as you kneel beneath him, saliva glistening on your chin as you gag all over his cock. you do the best you can to fit all of him, you did learn from the best after all. you hum against him in response, feeling his cock twitch from the sudden vibrations. if you keep going like this he’s bound to cum for sure, but he doesn’t want to give you that satisfaction - he wants to have all the power and control. “get up.” he spat harshly, if you swirl your tongue around him like that one more time he feels as tho he’s about to combust. the choice of only taking him further in made him even angrier. “did you not fucking hear me? i said get. the. fuck. up.” he pulls your hair tighter to yank your head back, forcing a semi-loud *pop* with your lips as you detach from his cock, swallowing the string of drool from the corner of your mouth. silly you for keep going, you should’ve listened the first time. now your forever fantasy of getting to suck him dry and drink his cum has sadly been cut short... “since you’re so damn greedy for this cock why don’t you go stand up against that window while i fuck you, hm?” your face becomes mortified when you haven’t realized just how big those windows truly were. it took up a quarter of the living room and the curtains were never closed which you also failed to notice. you were at the top floor of this 52 story building but still, you were rightfully nervous out of your mind.

the next thing you knew, your body’s pressed up to the cold glass, his big hands caressing both sides of your waist and trailing kisses to the exposed skin on your back. you watch the faint reflection of him toying with the hem of your mini dress, slowly pulling it up then stopping when he gets to a certain point. “oh.. what’s this here?” he asks, glancing down at your butterfly tattoo, his fingertips lightly brushing over the fresh ink. “guess you aren’t so innocent as i thought you were.” you shook your head, biting your lip when he gropes your ass, “n-never was i-innocent.” you quietly mewl. “oh yeah?” he breaths warmly against your neck, hiking the dress up further. “then be a good little slut for me and don’t speak unless i tell you to.” the palm of his hand slaps your cheek hard enough to leave a visible print, pushing you up against the window more. you were enjoying every single minute of this, you were so elated that you could cry again. you feel his touch down lower, grazing over your folds to feel how wet you are. “shit, you’re already dripping like this just from sucking me off? always knew you were such a filthy whore.” two fingers slid into your heat with ease, pumping them in and out. “nngh~” you moan lowly, “shh, quiet for me doll. wait ‘til i fill you with my cock then you can scream all you want.” when he pulls them out his chest collides with your back, rubbing himself between your folds and bringing his drenched fingers up to your mouth. of course, you open eagerly to suck on his sleek digits, you remember doing this exact thing last time. history truly does repeat itself.

once he fully settles in, the clench of you around him makes his brain all fuzzy, you feel so warm and inviting, could stay like this forever. “fuck.. so fucking tight” he husks, firmly gripping at your waist before he begins moving. first he goes at a normal pace, stuffing you nice and slow with delicate kisses to your shoulders. he soon built up more momentum, thrusting in and out of your soaking cunt as bodies clash together. you arch your back more as he his cock hits your walls deeper, mumbling a bunch of gibberish as he fucks you completely dumb. “what’s that doll? i can’t hear you, speak the fuck up.” he orders sternly, producing another harsh, loud slap to your ass - never letting up on his stamina. “ughh f-fuck! you’re so b-big, feels sso goood.” you whine, feeling nothing but cockdumb at this point. “yeah? you like the way i stretch this pussy out? gonna cream all over my cock just like you did for me last time baby?” his strokes get rougher with each question. “yes…yes.. oh fuck- jungkook! jungkookk!” you chant over and over like you’re casting a spell, the ring of his name slips on your tongue smoother than the pungent liquor you drank earlier. “only i can fuck you as good as this right? have you acting this obedient and submissive? bet you were manifesting this shit all long, just can’t enough of my cock can you?” the questions just won’t stop, and the waterworks soon start up again, you’re not sure how much more you can endure.

“don’t even fucking answer, i already know anyway.” his cockiness really pissed you off but at least he had the evidence to back his arrogance up. his pace grew relentless as he watches himself disappear in you, still gawking over the pretty design of the butterfly. you felt so close - that same knot tied in your stomach like you felt before; you haven’t had this feeling since the very first time, as if only he was the one to unlock this level of passion out of you. “g-gonna cum s-soonn.” you alert him, tasting the faint bitter saltiness from your tears pooling down. a pair of strong hands connect around your neck, wrapping tightly as he rams in harder, making your whole body tremble and shake. “go ahead, do it.” jungkook encourages supportively, “cum with me doll face.” those words were all you needed to hear to let go, screaming out his name and a slew of more curses. you feel your release drip down your leg, mind completely blank from the buzz taking over you. he quickly pulls out, dumping all his white seed onto your back as you whine from being empty again. you could honestly go for another round if he asked you to right now. it was fun while it lasted though, looking over at the skyline view while getting your back blown out - seemed like a literal dream come true.

the aftermath was quiet, you didn’t say much and neither did he, you reverted right back to your shy demeanor. when you cleaned up yourself in the bathroom you grabbed your purse to rummage for your house keys but he stops you mid action. “where’re you going?” that only confuses you more, where else would you be going? “uh, home?” you meekly respond, unsure of his real intentions. “don’t be like that, you can stay the night here.” he suggests, “my plane leaves in the morning though but you can sleep here for as long as you’d like, i’ll book this room for an extra day.” it was sweet of him to do that for you, it was the least he could do to mellow your sorrows. you were hoping to be with him for a bit longer but what were you expecting really? he’s just someone who comes and goes, taking everything you had to give, just to leave you high and dry all over again. “come here.” jungkook directs assertively, patting his thigh for you to sit on his lap, you waste no time in propping yourself onto him. “don’t be sad doll, cheer up. we’ll meet again sometime yeah?” you nod, feeling so hopeless and broken inside, he’s only saying this because he probably just wants to fuck again. that’s all you are to him, a fucktoy and nothing more. even though he sees you in that light, it still makes you feel validated in some twisted kind of way. at least right now you have all of his attention, it may just be momentarily but it felt so good. one thing was definitely made clear by him though - he was deeply, undeniably, in pure lust with you.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x female reader #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jeon jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts x f reader #bts x reader #jungkook fic

[unofficial-writing]

Brown Eyes

Pairing: Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Warnings: Some angst, fluff, soft Din, that should be it

Summary: After being separated for almost two years, you were finally reunited with Din.

Word count: 1k

Translations: Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum - “I love you”

«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ «̶ ̶̶̶ 　　　　 ̶ ̶ ̶»̶  ̶̶̶ ̶ »̶

One year, nine months, two weeks, and five days since you last saw Din. You had no idea if he was even alive, but you clung to the last words he said to you like your life depended on it. “No matter how long it takes, I’ll see you again.”

Ever since you two were separated a hole occupied space in your heart. Despite the effort to ease the ache, nothing worked. So over time you slowly began to fall further into your own mind.

You had built a small home on a remote planet beyond the outer rim. Remote was an understatement. Other than the animals that inhabited the surrounding trees, you were convinced nobody else lived here. Nobody that would be able to speak at least.

The land was mostly forests. A shallow but fast moving river ran through the trees, coming down from the mountain that sat a few miles from where you stayed.

Over the past year and a half, you built yourself a house and a system that kept you alive. At first it was merely for survival— just to get yourself by one day at a time— but now, physically at least, you began to thrive.

The lifestyle wasn’t bad at all. Most days you roamed the surrounding area, finding anything you could do to keep you busy. But time crawled painfully slowly.

The longer you spent here, the lonelier you got. You’ve already spent a year and a half without seeing another person. And to think of it, you couldn’t remember the last time you heard your own voice.

Now you walked through the trees, mapping your route without much effort. Mindlessly, your feet followed their normal track and allowed your thoughts to slip away from you. Your alert state faded over time since you no longer needed to look over your shoulder every few minutes.

Your bliss was ripped away from you with the sound of a ship flying quickly overhead. An N-1 Starfighter flew over the trees, headed in the same direction as you— which was also the same direction as your house. You cursed to yourself, thinking back to the fire you left running.

The smoke would be easily visible from the ship’s cockpit and the last thing you wanted was an unwelcome visitor. As far as your knowledge— which you couldn’t be sure wasn’t outdated— the starfighter was used on Naboo years ago so you couldn’t imagine who was flying it now.

Your feet were moving before you thought about it and your fingers fumbled for the blaster you kept concealed in your thigh holster. At least you had that. Your preferred weapons were left behind that morning. Approaching your house from behind the trees, you spotted the ship in the only clearing for miles, at least on this side of the river.

Worry trickled into your system, pooling in your stomach while you came up with a plan. As silently as possible, you moved to just under your window to see if you could get a glimpse of the pilot. You saw nothing so you stood cautiously, moving to the door to enter the little structure.

The pool in your stomach filled quickly as time passed without establishing who or where the pilot of the starfighter was. With your blaster in hand, you turned to go through your door, pointing your weapon in front of you.

The breath was stolen from your lungs as your blaster came face-to-face with the familiar beskar armor. “D-Din?” You whispered, your voice trying to get used to being heard again. His helmet came off slowly, revealing himself to you.

The face you had seen seen only a few times but knew more intimately than any other was now directly in front of you. The only thing that broke your trance was the makings of tears in his eyes.

Once your mind had caught up, your arms were around him. He caught you and wrapped his arms tightly around your torso, burying his face into your neck.

You were in tears, overwhelmed by your emotions. It had been so long since you had felt anything more than your usual stoic disposition and empty mind. And now your heart ached in the opposite way.

“I’m so sorry.” Din said, sounding like he was choked up. He lifted his head so he could look into your eyes, without moving his hands away from your waist. You lifted your hands to cup his face. It almost felt like he wasn’t really there, but he was.

His brown eyes gazed at you with guilt, longing, and adoration. Which mixed together to make the expression he presented to you. You examined his face for a moment before pulling him down to you. Your lips met for the first time in almost two years but it felt like no time had passed at all.

Din melted into your kiss instantly, pulling you closer while you sighed into his lips. After a long minute, he lifted his lips from yours and pressed slow kisses onto your cheeks where tears stained your skin.

Your eyes stayed closed while he kissed your face, finishing with your lips again. “Please don’t leave.” You whispered against his lips. Din’s hand went up to your cheek and your eyes met for the second time.

“I’ll never l leave you again, y/n.” He stated quietly. His voice sounded smooth and velvety in your ears. As he spoke, his breath tickled your cheeks. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum”

You didn’t understand all of Mando’a but Din had taught you that phrase when he had first said it to you. It caused your heart to flutter— a much preferred feeling to the previous emptiness.

For the first time in almost two years, you smiled. Din pressed a kiss onto your nose and rested his chin on the top of your head, silently promising he would never leave you alone like this again.

After all that time, all you wanted was to stay there in Din’s arms. Neither of you wanted to let go.

#the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin x gn!reader #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandolarian #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the Mandalorian x gn!reader

[silverskye13]

Being the universe's smartest super computer still made for a derpy, non-functional person. It was really easy for people to get caught up in the Cool Sci-Fi Shenanigans of cyborgs and robots and forget how awesome and powerful organic, sentient life was.

For example: Xisuma has a perfect memory. If someone gave him a date and a time, he could scan back through his memory logs, replay recorded data and footage, and tell you the exact recipe he used for those vegan cookies that one time six years ago. He knows the ambient temperature of a froglight that's been submerged underwater for six hours, three minutes and twenty-nine seconds. He can rewind a recorded memory, pause the time lapse, and watch in slow motion as Grian breaks a stone block at spawn with his bare hands because he was bored during their intro-season speech.

However, recorded data takes up a massive amount of memory on a standard hard drive when you record everything you see as a passive function, and all of it has to be purged by hand, regularly, just so Xisuma can maintain the memory needed for daily functions. He's tried writing algorithms to do it for him, but even the best pattern recognition software can't account for his momentary preferences. What differentiates his favorite sunrise from any other? If he were human, he could program some kind of learning software using data from tables tied to the output of different brain chemicals and electrical pulses that most frequently line up with a formative memory -- but if he were human he wouldn't be making a program like that in the first place, now would he?

It's one of those long, long days of trawling through recorded data. It would be shorter if he would just parse through the most recent memories, but he likes keeping long-term memory storage at exactly thirty percent of his total data storage, and he's been resting at thirty-four percent for the past month. Putting off the inevitable. It's just, there's been a lot of stuff to remember the past few weeks, and it's hard to choose what to get rid of sometimes. He's started deep-diving through old data, walking down memory lane. He has to be careful, some of this data is important, tied intricately with the complex spider algorithm that forms his memory data access system.

Click! Click! Click!

"What are you thinking, X?"

The screen that makes up the lion's share of X's face organizes itself into a smile, lights flickering on in the nanoseconds it takes him to process the memory he's watching and attribute happiness to it. Yes, this is a good one.

The playback jolts as he looks down at Tango. Not pictured is a redstone project they are picking away at. Xisuma knows this because this particular memory has a transcript, full of branching tags and keywords that pull up a wealth of information alongside it.

That's another thing about memory that organic life never appreciates. Memory isn't just the memory itself. It's a web of associations built on prior, learned knowledge. A tree isn't just a tree. It's color and texture and symbol and "when was the first time I drew a tree?" and "apples" and "saplings" and a thousand other tiny associations they just arbitrarily have. Xisuma has to synthesize that web. A memory doesn't exist in a vacuum. Unlike the organic mind, however, Xisuma can pull up as much accurate information as he has the processing power for. This memory brings him two more closely associated recordings, associated memories he's kept for context, the transcripts of six more deleted memories, the definition of redstone, a playback of isolated sound he deemed important.

The playback continues.

Click! Click! Click!

"What are you thinking, X?"

"Oh, I'm sorry Tango, I didn't know you'd walked up! I was doing research."

"Yeah? What kind?"

"Oh well, you know the new update. Redstone's always a little finicky after."

"Right, yeah, totally. I've been putting mine off, honestly. I don't feel like fixing broken stuff right now -- oh but, I guess you can't wait, huh?"

Xisuma parses through the data brought up with the memory. He knows the date this was recorded, the recent change to redstone mechanics brought on by the server update. He'd had three farms break. There was a linked document to a transcript of Doc's rant on redstone as it relates to radiation. There was a script note document typed the day after this recording was created: Clicking Good. There was a preliminary version of what he'd nicknamed "The Tick Script.Exe".

"Yeah, I've got a lot of bugs to fix."

"Are you going to get rid of the clicking?"

"Clicking?"

The clicking was an ambient noise made when Xisuma's system was a bit bulkier, his algorithms and scripts that handled memory and data access crude and unperfected. It caused a disc in a driver somewhere to click when he did searches. At the time, the clicking had been the closest thing to an annoying habit Xisuma could manage.

Computers don't have habits. Habits are repetitive motions that become subliminal, that take effort to break, and are oftentimes formed subconsciously. Xisuma doesn't have a discernable difference between conscious thought and subconscious. He has background processes, he has backburnered data, and he has executive commands.

Xisuma queries the memory, pulling up related tags and searches, letting the algorithm reach. This memory had been the start of a, for lack of a better term, humanification process for him. There was his observation table on organic ticks, habits, and movements. It had taken a lot of uncomfortable staring, but back then, staring was all he'd known how to do. One of the first entries on the table was blinking. Organic things blinked, clearing away dust and debris from lenses and membranes. Xisuma didn't have eyes, didn't blink. But the screen that managed his facial expression animations could be programmed to blink.

Xisuma queries blinking. He pulls up a transcript of an interaction with Stressmonster, where she mentioned he blinked every thirty seconds. She knew this because when she first noticed him blinking, she'd noticed it's regularity. That was when Xisuma learned that, to convincingly blink, time variation was necessary.

Coding randomization into redstone circuitry had always been difficult.

Xisuma returns to the Tango memory recording, replays the question about the clicking, the unintentional habit. Xisuma still clicked when he thought. The others probably still thought it had to do with bulky drivers. In reality, it had been a test in trial and error.

How many clicks was acceptable for a thinking pattern? The three dot ellipses was common in writing, and a two dot pattern was too reminiscent of a heartbeat. When he'd temporarily switched to a four dot pattern, he'd noticed people getting impatient, or worrying if his mechanics were stalling. (Stalling and slow loading does sometimes happen, but it manifests in freezes and long pauses, not in repeating clicks). He invented a three click pattern, tested a variety of click sounds, settled on something similar to a rotary phone click when a number is dialed. It was a good sound. Heavy and sharp. It sounded like something falling into place with intention. Click! Click! Click!

Xisuma doesn't actually need a sound to think. But it's a clever replacement for harder to code things, like remembering to two a surface or fidget.

Click! Click! Click!

Shifting weight had been a harder thing to code. Standing stationary, legs an equal width apart, was the most steady way to stand. It also made him look like a statue, made his unblinking stares eerie and uncomfortable. Organic things read it as unnatural, borderline on predatory. Large predators often froze and stared right before pouncing.

Looking back through old memories, Xisuma could tell if they were from before or after his algorithmic programming because of how still they were. Made for clearer visuals, and he knows in high-stress situations that focus on accuracy, he can cycle them off, but they're comfortable for people to watch.

Xisuma rocks back on his heels away from the screen he's watching. If someone else were in the room, it would be a sign of thoughtfulness. For him, it's the execution from a random table of acceptable fidgets while standing still. He should turn it off. He's alone right now. But sometimes the movements still catch him off-guard and the longer they run, the more he gets used to them.

Xisuma queries: rocking on heals

He gets a handful of save recording bits. Doc rocks onto his back legs and stretches his forelegs. Gem rocks back and forth on the balls of her feet, her arms crossed behind her back, mischievous and excited. Scar rocks back on his heels and crosses his arms, thoughtfully examining some terraforming. Xisuma isolates the last recording and mimics it, feeling how the weight of his crossed arms counterbalances the lean back.

Xisuma queries his habits table and adds the motion to the list.

He never quite figured out how to program what to do with his hands. They spent a lot of time at his sides, or in pockets. Objectively he knew that was bad. Hiding the hands was often a sign of hiding something, and he liked being transparent.

Xisuma queries: Hands

Xisuma blinks at the long list of results.

Xisuma queries: Hands behind back

He gets several animations of Gem, Grian, and Scar, all with some variation of hands behind their backs and mischievous grins. Most of them are snippets made for studying purposes. Two are attached to longer videos, catalogued memories he's kept. His query returns almost four hundred memory transcripts.

Xisuma likes making transcripts. He feels it's similar to the hazy, distant memories people have when time and distance transform them. When someone else remembers something falteringly, he remembers the way he described it to himself. The older transcripts were rougher. He's gotten better at writing them over the years. His learning and pattern recognition softwares are still pretty good, even if they aren't perfect enough to manage the full range of expression on their own.

Xisuma queries: Do my friends know how hard it is to look organic?

This returns no direct results. He receives a directory of the people he's flagged as "friends" over the years, an article on the recent organics additions to the world in the latest update, and a handful of unrelated memory documents where he'd asked this question before and similarly pulled up no response.

Xisuma queries: Do I care?

This pulls up more entries. Xisuma glances across them and clears them.

Xisuma queries: Do I care today?

This pulls up only slightly fewer entries. He smiles. Asking subjective questions to a computer never gleans intended results. Computers aren't subjective. Or, well, they're not supposed to be. Of course, if he were merely a computer, he wouldn't be doing this, would he? If he were merely a computer, he would be sitting on a shelf, or a desk, running prewritten programs and searches for someone else, letting someone else build his code, rules by the guidances and intentions of someone who ultimately viewed him as a tool, if nothing else.

Xisuma queries: Who's flying this thing, if not me?

He pulls up a list of song lyrics and chords, a clip from a movie he'd watched once, an IMDB rating off some database somewhere.

Xisuma clears the data. He pulls up the last memory he was watching, rocks back on his heels and crosses his arms thoughtfully. He presses play.

Click! Click! Click!

"Are you going to get rid of the clicking?"

"Clicking? Oh, I guess I am clicking, aren't I? It's just an inefficiency. I'll fix it at some point, I guess."

Tango smirked at him. One of his hands plucked at his sleeve. Xisuma clips the motion, tags it with hands, nervous, thoughtful, fidget.

"You sure it needs fixed? I kinda like it."

Click! Click! Click!

#the barking writer #xisuma #hermitcraft fic #robot!xisuma #android!xisuma #woe! my headcanons be upon ye! #ive been reading a lot of scifi lately #like... A LOT of scifi #like almost 200hrs of audiobooks in the past 3 weeks #long post #longpost

[blouisparadise]

Upon request, today we have a rec list of bottom Louis fics where Louis or Harry are bakers. If you enjoy our rec lists, please be sure to like and reblog this post to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Christmas Lights In Paris | Mature | 4,671 words

Harry vividly remembered the day he was foolish enough to be blinded by pointless rage. It had been on Louis' birthday, a year ago, and Harry had bought tickets to Paris for both him and Lou. He had expected Louis to come with him to Paris for 3 years, without really talking about the plan to his lover. Everything went down hill when Louis refused. "You think your bakery is far more important than I am?" Were the exact words he had spewed and stormed off.

2) Don’t Say Yes, Run Away Now | Not Rated | 5,076 words

Louis is getting married and Harry made a promise. Plus, he has a plan. Kind of.

3) Too Nervous To Be Lovers | Mature | 6,445 words

Louis doesn't want to spend quarantine with Harry, his straight roommate, who doesn't even acknowledge his existence.

4) I Built This Bed For Two (I Built This Bed For Me and You) | Explicit | 8,942 words

Harry and Louis broke up after uni and haven't seen each other since—until they're roped into doing a Buzzfeed video together. Featuring awkward cuddling and a reunion that just needed a kick in the arse, gleefully provided by Niall.

5) Feel My Love | Explicit | 10,479 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis always gets things done on time, he just takes a detour along the way. The detour? Having sex with Harry. Harry never brings it up. Until he does.

6) Were We Ever This Young? | Explicit | 17,297 words

Hogwarts AU in which Harry and Louis both return to give talks to seventh years about the 'real world' with slightly varying results. Inspired by the Chilton scene between Rory and Paris in the new Gilmore Girls.

7) Heart of Sugar, Sweet Temptation of Mine | Explicit | 25,600 words

The process of courting is seriously outdated nowadays, it's not common anymore; people don’t want to go through the hassle of a proper courtship, dating is easier. Louis though, he was raised in a very traditional family, every member, down to his parents, had a courting and a mating ceremony. He grew up hearing stories about how wonderful it is, how much deeper the connection gets between a courting pair can get, and he's wanted that for himself since he was a pup, always dreaming of his alpha showing up and sweeping him off of his feet. His dreams seem to be coming true when he moves into a new building, closer to where he works, and the older alpha living in the flat in front of his own, initiates the courtship process. Everything he's ever wanted is within reach. Or is it?

8) Confections Of The Heart | Explicit | 25,877 words

Harry chuckles, smiling when Louis’ breath hitches as he reaches up to brush his thumb over Louis’ cheek. “Louis, would you like to go on a date with me?” He still worries that the date won’t go well, that Harry will get bored of him or decide it’s too complicated dating an omega with a pup, but he nods anyway, “Yes.” It feels worth it when Harry’s lips widen into a grin and the dimple that Louis finds quite charming craters into his cheek. Who knows, maybe it won’t be as awkward as you think, Louis thinks to himself and follows Harry to where Oliver is watching a chef with a loud laugh show the pup how to sculpt with chocolate. Maybe this time it’ll work out.

9) At Your Fingertips | Explicit | 27,399 words

He finds himself wrapped up in sheets in bed on Thursday night, staring at the familiar name on a new story that was posted the night before. His fingers twitch, ready to hit play and surrender to his impulses, saving the regret and turmoil for later. And still he hesitates, internally praying that he’ll somehow gain the strength to exit out within the next few moments before he inevitably loses his patience and hits the button. Three… Two… One. Play.

10) Tis the Season for...Love? | Mature | 27,920 words

Louis might just be what Harry's needed all along.

11) Short And Sweet | Explicit | 29,658 words

Louis is a shy university student in a world scarce of male omegas. He's always dreamt of having an alpha despite his sheltered upbringing, fantasizing about being loved and cared for. He's immediately smitten by the mysterious alpha with curly hair, broad shoulders, and the addictive coffee scent.

12) Welcome Home | Explicit | 49,417 words

Louis Tomlinson had to put a stop to his football career for a couple of months and he decided to go back home to rest his mind for a little bit only to find out a really weird coffee shop owner started to visit his mother on a regular basis with just as peculiar but lovely kid named Maxine.

13) Taken Over By The Feeling | Mature | 53,654 words

After almost a year of increasingly troubling behavior, Louis agrees to let his sister live with him. It's a last resort before more drastic measures are taken by their mom. Harry Styles runs Given A Chance, a program for troubled and disadvantaged teens out of the bakery he owns. He offers the kids in his program what he believes they need to start on a different and better path for their lives. Louis learns all too quickly that Harry's goodwill does not extend to him. Only because he happens to remind Harry of an ex he'd rather forget. It's not the smoothest of beginnings, but in the end Louis' own issues might be the real problem.

14) Beachwood Cafe | Mature | 63,562 words

The AU where Louis works in a cute little beachside cafe after running away from his problems and Harry is the tall handsome stranger who makes him question everything.

15) Wild Thing | Mature | 65,950 words

Harry doesn’t think love is for him, until Louis shows him just how wild love is.

16) Alpha's Sweet Omega | Not Rated | 66,133 words

Every soulmark differs from Alpha to Beta to Omega. It’s like a puzzle piece that connects you to your soulmate. Some legends from the ancient times say that when you have an aching soulmark, you’re close in finding your mate, and you’ll know that it is your mate when the scent transcends and entices you. And the pain in the mark will subside when you touch your mate. But what if you are already bounded to someone who is not your Alpha? Does social status matter? Will an Alpha fight for his rightful place and win the love of his Omega? The story of love and facing the odds. Making the impossible possible. The things you will do for Love...

17) Pinkies Never Lie | Explicit | 83,615 words

AU in which Louis hates his job and loves Harry, Harry just wants a distraction, everyone else wants them to get their shit together, and Louis learns the hard way that new beginnings are only possible when something ends.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#bottom louis #top harry #larry #fic recs #blp #blp fic recs #baker harry #baker louis

[xxacademy]

i'll let you in {part one}

leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: you've had your eye on a handsome co-worker for quite some time. dreaming of a chance you'd get to know him better. a chance that he'd let you in. *set around RE4, but no real timeline*

this is the set-up for romance and smut to come :) thank you for reading, i genuinely appreciate it <3

word count: 1.4k

content//warnings: afab she/her reader. alcohol.

you want to be noticed. you want nothing more than for him to compliment your hair, or tell you that you did a good job. but he never has, and why would he? he barely knows who you are.

leon kennedy is an agent for an elite government task force, and so are you. the catch being you’re assigned to different teams, and never have been assigned together. this was tragic, years of working as an agent and never once being assigned with Leon? of course not.

it really only started out as a shameless crush. i mean the man is a bit of a celebrity. if the name “raccoon city” is spoken, images of leon and claire will always come to mind. leon is regarded as a hero, it’s hard not to get butterflies around him.

but my god, his looks don’t help. his body is built and decorated with scars, his eyes are tired but sensitive, a haunting shade of blue. he looks rugged- like he’s seen some shit (and he has). you digress.

but, he's genuine. you can see by the way he interacts with his colleagues, he’s unassumingly empathetic. especially for someone known for a dark and sarcastic sense of humor.

although, what allures you most is how quiet he is. in briefings he only says what needs to be said, maybe a one-liner here and there. never really granting an opportunity to interact past that. but, you are dying to know what on earth is he actually thinking. his eyes are always eluding to more. so contemplative and hard to read.

these feelings toward him really came up strong about one month ago.

you remember getting off work at about 11pm. you didn’t have much to go home to and you were still wide awake. so, you decided to stop by a local dive bar. it was a monday night so the bar was vacant. just a few regulars doing what they always do, drinking it all away.

you were shocked by who you saw sitting at the end of the bar. a blonde-haired man wearing a black leather coat. both his elbows were up on the table, grasping a glass of (presumably) whiskey. his head was tucked into the nook of his arm. he looked beaten and tired.

leon.

you felt nervous, like a middle schooler face to face with their crush. you wanted to talk to him, but again, he didn’t look like he was wanting company. he hadn’t even noticed you walk in.

you decided to mind your business, sitting on the opposite end of the bar. you ordered a drink and kept quiet. secretly watching him. he didn’t move for a long while. only occasionally taking sips of his drink.

yawn. sleep crept on you. the tiredness only amplified by the alcohol. you start to get up, pushing your wooden barstool back from the table for it to only make the most ear-wrenching sound against the tile floor.

“fuck” you hush under your breath, darting your head up out of shock.

your eyes land on his sunken blue gaze.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry!” you plead, feeling horribly embarrassed about the noise. his abrupt stare turns into a gentle smile.

“y/n? i didn’t expect to see you here.”

“i could say the same to you” you grin.

leon nods his head in agreement.

you didn’t really know what else to say, fumbling through your mind to find something to fill the silence with.

“are you heading out?” leon asks, beating you in the somewhat awkward game of who can fill the silence faster.

“yeah, actually, i was just about to call a cab,” you say pulling out your phone.

“oh-okay then, have a good night” he smiles. he looks like he had more to say, but instead opted to let you go.

your heart is fluttering, giving you that butterfly feeling. all from a couple meaningless words.

you make it outside to the street curb, stumbling slightly, cold february air cloaking any exposed skin of yours with its chill. drunk and shivering, you impatiently watch the dimly lit street, at the same time you devise a plan on how you’re going to retrieve your car in the morning. you’re lost in thought, just waiting.

“hey,” a deep voice calls out. making you jump, breaking you out of your train of thought.

“oh! sorry, you scared me! sorry, oh-hi, leon-” your frantic reaction was amusing to him. you looked so innocent and vulnerable. just a drunk girl waiting for a cab. definitely not the badass, gun-wielding agent he saw at work.

“i thought i’d join you will you waited, probably safer that way.” he laughed at himself. “not that you really need it, but still.”

“thank you, i appreciate it.” you smile.

leon stands next you, looking out at the road alongside you.

“its interesting how long we’ve worked together, but i still barely know you.” you laugh. the alcohol making it easier to voice your honest thoughts.

“yeah it's unfortunate, isn’t it.” he replies.

“yeah…” you want to tell him more, you want to go on about how you’d always hoped that one day you’d get to know him better. but that would be too much, of course.

“what brings someone like you to a place like this?” he asks.

“someone like me?” you playfully retort.

“i’m not sure how to explain it. you just don’t seem like someone who would spend the evening alone at a shitty bar.”

"yes, you're right. i genuinely don't know why i'm here either. it's been a rough couple of weeks, i honestly just needed a break."

"sorry to hear that, y/n. i know how you feel. it seems like we only see the worst the world has to offer in our line of work."

"truly" you laugh, defeatedly so.

your cab finally arrives. you turn to leon, your pretty eyes looking right into his. "thanks for the company leon, i guess i'll see you later".

he smiles, "anytime."

...

you haven't really spoken to him since then. the past month has been busy, leon was gone for about a week, away for a mission. and you have had lots of paperwork and training on your plate. it's been nothing more than a simple greeting in passing between you too.

until today.

sitting in your office, you're prompted to meet in the conference room for a new job assignment. upon arriving you're greeted by your boss and leon. after taking your seat and going over the brief you learn that you two have been tasked together with a mission. the mission is nothing major, which is relieving. but, you feel your stomach well up with anticipation. a mix of nerves and excitement.

your boss leaves the room, leaving you alone together.

leon smirks "well this is exciting, isn't it."

part two

#academy fics✨ #thank you for reading #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #resdient evil #leon resident evil #leon x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon x you #leon x y/n #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil 4

[herbgerblin]

ipre theater thots

loosely based off of this poll. sorry, this got away from me. i was a theater kid for years (i still am, i literally made a bunch of friends larp as wizards two weeks ago)

Davenport: Producer and Stage Manager. Personally more experienced in opera than musicals, but answers the call when the need for a manager arises. Keeps everyone focused and on schedule. Has final word on what choices the art department gets to make. Sometimes does solo performances on his own time.

Merle: Choreographer and Director. Leads the ensemble into meditation every rehearsal before warming up. Talks with each member of the cast one-on-one. Sometimes leaves the script open to interpretation. His artistic vision sounds bonkers in concept, but illuminating in execution. Why are there so many plants? Don't worry about it.

Magnus: Lead Actor and Set Builder. He brings the energy every single night. He doesn't need to be micc'ed up because his natural voice projects well enough. It takes a bit of time for him to memorize the script, but he devotes his heart and soul to it. He claps loudly for the ensemble when he's in the wings. He cries at the emotional numbers. Built all the sets by hand.

Lucretia: Co-stage Manager and Supporting Actor (not for lack of chops, only because she spreads herself very thin.) Knows the script like a second language. Mainly reserves her Director Voice for backstage when things get chaotic. Enjoys performing the musical numbers because no one knows she can belt, until she does. Standing ovation girlie, but bashful about it.

Lup: Co-lead Lead Actor and Costumer. Only willing to do the role if Davenport lets her include cold sparks and fog machines in the set budget (he finds a way.) No one knows when she took measurements for the costumes, but they're ready by dress rehearsal and they fit perfectly. Helps the other actors figure out their groove. Great at engaging the audience.

Angus (special edition): Child lead and stagehand. The sweetest little singing voice you ever did hear. Everyone is going to rue the day his voice starts cracking. A heartbreaker of a performer and a speedy backstage assistant.

Taako: A MYSTERY. He's wearing a fancy scarf and roaming all over the place. He's talking about the Art of the Theatre. He's listed on the billing of lead actors and NO ONE knows what his role is. He remembers all the little things that everyone forgets: clothes pins, a hot glue gun, and electrolytes. He's got a walkie-talkie. Only the managers and tech are supposed to have walkie-talkies. Hello, this is Taako speaking, over.

Barry: Usually Tech. He's got a beautifully choreographed queue of lighting designs and stage effects. He's got an immaculately labeled pad controller and a ready-to-go Excel spreadsheet. But on opening night, Lucretia informs him he's in the orchestra pit.

Barry: ...But I'm lighting tonight.

Lucretia (via walkie-talkie): And our percussionist twisted his ankle tripping over a stage light. You're in the orchestra now, compadre.

Barry: (with increasing emphasis, decreasing conviction) But. I'm. Light. Tech.

Taako: E N T E R T H E P I T B A R O L D

Davenport: Taako, get off this line.

During intermission, Magnus asks him to help lift the ensemble dancers onto the set scaffolding, and hold it steady. Barry agrees, thinking he's in the clear after that. But the second the music number ends, Merle tells him that one of the support roles had to leave, so now he's the understudy.

Barry (longsuffering): I am just. the light guy.

Merle (gesturing to Taako in the balcony, having a ballgame playing with the lightboard): well, in two minutes you're the showstopper guy, so you need to go out there and stop the show

Lup (emerging from nowhere, slapping a red, hooded robe on Barold's shoulders): Knock 'em dead!

Barry: D:

#:0 knock em dead! #okay i'm done it's back to doing laundry #taz balance #taz au #herbgerb blerb #the adventure zone #long post

[multifunctionalnitroglycerin]

Poe’s Annabel Lee in TLT #1

“Annabel Lee” is the last poem E. A. Poe composed, and arguably one of his most famous ones. It is in many ways, typical of one would consider a Poe poem, featuring thematics such as the death of a beautiful young woman, love, and grief. Thematics and subjects that are ever-present in the tlt book series, and I will do my best to dissect in this post.

With a superficial read of the books, most would garner the rather obvious parallel between John Gaius and Alecto on the one hand, and the hero of the poem and Annabel Lee, on the other. John himself is not particularly mindful or discreet of the analogy he himself creates. And he has no need to, seeing as he is the only one that remembers the world from before. And I think it is terribly beautiful and utterly devastating, in a poetic irony sort of way, that a comparison so obvious as this, a hallmark of American poetry would go completely unnoticed in the new world that John has built in his image, for he is the only one who truly knows, the only one who remembers.

Another more subtle parallel, I feel could be drawn between Gideon and Harrow, and the poem’s heroes. Though, I must admit it is perhaps a bit of a stretch. I might make another post abt that. But for now, let’s dive in the magical world of Annabel Lee, and dissect the poem, bit by bit.

For all our literature geeks out there, I will just point out that the poem is a narrative poem, and it uses a few different rhyme schemes, and meters, with both anapests and iambs being present (Shout out to all the lovely people who are familiar with iambic fifteen-syllable lines and have been haunted by them).

I will now start with a general feeling of the poem before jumping into the details. From the start, Annabel Lee feels like a fairytale, with a hopeful start that alludes to the fairytale opening of Once upon a time… However, as the poem progresses this hopeful emotion slowly devolves to something eerie, ominous, and desperate. Something dark, cynical, and terrifying. And this is where we will draw our first parallel.

The Earth is dying. That much we can garner. There is however a man, that loves her more than anything else. That desperately, with his clumsy, human, imperfect, selfish way wants to save her. And thus, she bestows him with a gift, hoping that he would indeed help. It does make for a nice fairytale start of the story does it not? Unfortunately, however, this is not how it evolves, for John inevitably fails to do what he has been tasked with, despite all his love for her. And he kills her. She is now trapped in a human-like body of John’s design, a body that in its design is proof he could not escape the industrialism he so loathed, and she feels like a monstrosity. And the story only gets worse from then on, with her inevitable banishment in the Tomb for what seems to be an eternal sleep at the behest of John’s Lyctors.

Both takes I feel follow the same pattern of emotional development, regarding both their content of the text and the emotional rollercoaster they inspire in the reader.  

It was many and many a year ago

In a kingdom by the sea

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

by the name of Annabel Lee

10.000 years ago, to be precise, in a water-filled planet called Earth. See that fairytale tone? Also, I would like to point out once more, that saltwater references. Salt water, the sea, Θάλασσα as a source of life and energy is a strong thematic that repeats itself multiple times in Muir’s books, and this is no exception. And the fact that Earth is a planet with a lot of saltwater, and in this instance serve both the kingdom and the personification of the maiden is an apt usage of the theme. Moreover, in these introductory lines, we are immediately presented with what will be the central figure of the poem, Annabel Lee, an alleged maiden. A noun that alludes to a young, beautiful woman. (Alecto is arguably in the form that John gives her, also a beautiful woman, despite the Lyctors finding her monstrous. I am of the opinion that what unsettled them was that Alecto was both too bizarre, too other, too immense to be fully understood and contained within so plain a physical vessel, and way too human to be clearly marked as different and other. One look at John’s creation and they would immediately see that alien strange cavalier, and their closest friends in her quirks and mannerisms, all at once.)

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

than to love and be loved by me

I was a child and she was a child

In this Kingdom by the Sea

I need not point out I feel the thematic of an impossibly powerful love that is introduced in these lines, the desperate love that John harbored for his dying home planet, and the equally desperate love Alecto harbors for the man she thought would save her. Even when he betrays her, one of the things she says to John immediately after he confines her in the human form is I love you. (“What else...” “I love you”, “…You said that too.”) And of course, the notion that they were both “children”, inexperienced with little idea of what they were doing in their despair– most certainly not untrue. A line that heavily points to one of Pyrrha’s most iconic lines in Nona the Ninth “We were children - playing in the reflections of stars in a pool of water... Thinking it was space.” And they were children in comparison to what they are now. Inexperienced and stumbling through their first steps in the chaos that love is.

But we loved with a love that was more than love— 

I and my Annabel Lee;

With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven  

Coveted her and me.

Now these lines tie a bit more loosely to tlt. The love that these children so to speak harbor is not any less real because of their youth and inexperience. On the contrary the aftereffects of Alecto’s and John’s love are very much real and rather disastrous for the solar system. And such love, apparently inspired jealously. In the poem in the usually benign and protective guardians that angels are, and in the books, in the Lyctors. And I think that it is at this point that the thematics might or might not deviate from the books. Because one might say, that the Lyctors, that I feel are in these lines represented by the angelical figures, could not possibly be jealous of Alecto, and her relationship with John, could they? They find her monstrous and wrong, a hindrance, so what could they be jealous about? A lot of things, I believe. For we do see in the books the extends of the affections that John harbors for Alecto, even though his little man not responsible for the consequences of his actions, behavior. In the beginning John explains everything to Alecto through his eyes, takes her everywhere, and does not part with her. He harbors this love and kinship for his strange cavalier, or the soul of the Earth that chose him to save her, that it seems to overshadow even the depth of emotion he feels for his Lyctors. For he cares for and loves Augustine and Mercy and Gideon and Cassiopeia, Ulesses and Titania, but I feel that the love he has for them is but a speck in the ocean of the emotional turmoil that Alecto inspires in him. So they cover them for a love they themselves cannot feel.

               And what would you do, how would you feel, if the man you gave everything up for, the man you uprooted your life for, the man you condemned the planet and the billions of lives on it for, barely had eyes for you? If despite all you had done for him and all you did on a daily basis to keep this impossible empire intact, all he ever did was parade his monstrous, weird, wrong, guard dog around? And no matter what you did you could never get rid of her, for she was everywhere, and she was his, and he never could care for you as his friend, as a companion, an advisor, a pillar of the empire, his hand and gesture and manifestation of his will with nearly as much love and devotion he showed her? What if you felt that she was a distraction keeping him from building the empire he was meant to build?  

And this was the reason that, long ago,    In this kingdom by the sea,  A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling    My beautiful Annabel Lee;  So that her highborn kinsman came     And bore her away from me,  To shut her up in a sepulchre    In this kingdom by the sea.   The angels, not half so happy in heaven,    Went envying her and me— Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,   In this kingdom by the sea)  That the wind came out of the cloud by night,    Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

Given my ramble above I will not expand anymore on how the Lyctors would see Alecto at least as a hindrance to the empire, and at most would loathe her, for despite never having sacrificed as much as they had – in their eyes at least - she had John’s attention, devotion, respect and -frankly obsessive- love. What follows now, is an abrupt change of tone (gone are the fairytale notions) and an allusion to the Tomb, even though we know that John himself put her in there and not the other Lyctors. But we also know that the other Lyctors were on a surface level, the driving force of that decision. He sealed her away to appease them. And at least in John’s little man mentality he could insist that it was for them and their insistence that he sealed her away. And he feels the loss of Alecto, his Annabel Lee. Furthermore, Annabel Lee has been chilled, and while the interpretation in the poem can be a bit vague, we know that Alecto is held in a freezing ice coffin practically. Frozen in time in the subzero temperatures of the Ninth.

 But our love it was stronger by far than the love  

Of those who were older than we—  

Of many far wiser than we—

And neither the angels in heaven above, 

 Nor the demons down under the sea,

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul 

 Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:

Lyctorhood ala John. Binding your soul to the soul of a planet, to the soul of Earth. It doesn’t get any stronger and up and personal than that. A love and bond that is stronger than all he knows I don’t think there is much of anything anyone can do to sever Alecto’s connection from John. It is presented as one of the big issues in the book. How to kill God when he has bound his life force to a bloody planet, who seems to be rather murderous on the best of days. I quite look forward to seeing how that moves forward. For the hero of our poem, don’t know about John I must admit, seems to be certain nothing can tear their souls apart from each other.

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams 

 Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes  

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride, 

 In her sepulchre there by the sea, 

 In her tomb by the sounding sea.

The first two lines are pretty familiar, aren’t they? They should be because they are featured in the books. And they point that our hero meets Annabel Lee in his dreams. Aka the whole premise of Nona the Ninth, where Nona dreams of Alecto’s memories. As for the second set of lines, it seems to be an allusion to both John’s original bright  golden eyes and the bottomless black pits of Alecto’s in which the stars never rise. As for the next line, my presumptive butt would like to take it as a bit of a foreshadowing. And a symbol. Yes, it does bring to mind John’s ascension in a sense with the lying on the ground theme, but the imagery here is much more serene, peaceful. So, I would like to believe it alludes to the end, where John will finally find peace and will lie besides Alecto for what could be their final rest. I do not remember if he lay beside her every night before, so correct me if I am wrong. But I would find it awfully poetic for them to do that as they set off Resurrection Vol2 or they reverse what they have done. And the last lines again allude to the Tomb and the sea. So, a random crazy idea is that they would both lie together in the Tomb and reset everything. And that the Tomb, their place of final rest or not, will be surrounded by water, so I have this crazy imagery that perhaps the Tomb containing Alecto’s and John’s lifeforce will be the center, the core, of the new planet that would resemble earth. And thus, an ocean shall rise surrounding the two, and they will eternally lay beside each other in the depths of a planet surrounded by saltwater.

All in all, both stories are stories of love in its all-consuming nature, that can be romantic and all encompassing, or take a darker turn and become obsessive and destructive. Of Love that can transcend the mortal realm and alter the laws of the world as we know it, inspiring dark feelings in what should be benevolent characters. And still that love transcends the obstacles that are set, for better or worse. Is it really as beautiful as it appears? The stories also are stories of grief and loss that defines the one that gets left behind, grief that attaches itself to the person and doesn’t let go, overpowering sense and sensibility. That becomes the past present and future of our hero. That has no outlet and suffocates its bearer. (We have seen John’s darker days, where he is drunk and barely functional.)

Okay it is probably way too late, and I am way too tired, but it makes sense in my head. Next part of this one we will be analyzing possible comparisons between this lovely poem and Gideon and Harrow’s relationship.  

Take care of yourselves.

#the locked tomb #tlt #tlt series #tlt spoilers #alecto the first #alecto the ninth #alecto tlt #john gaius #nona the ninth spoilers #harrow the ninth #tlt fandom #tlt theories #Annabel lee #poetry #literary parallels #literary analysis #John is Poe and A.L is Alecto #Can it be more obvious #tlt fan theory

[look-how-they-massacred-them]

Urabrask

Submission reason:

after years of buildup for him to be leading a revolution, his contribution to the story's climax was... throwing someone at a tree, and then dying slowly and painfully

Okay so for a bit of back lore to set the stage. A long time ago in the mtg canon a doctor by the name of Yawgmoth schemed and backstabbed his way into a new world in order to develop a cure for a disease that had been plaguing the people of his continent. There stuff happens and he ends up developing a process to replace flesh with metal by way of a pseudomagical oil, and thus creating what would come to be known as Phyrexians. More stuff happens and he is defeated thousands of years later. However in this process some of the oil, phyrexian oil, he developed wound up on other worlds. One such world was Mirrodin. Eventually the oil takes roots and as it spread five Phyrexians rose above the rest, one in each of magics five colors: Elesh Norn, white, wants to unify everything under her rule (literally and metaphorically) to achieve perfection; Jin Gitaxias, blue, thinks he can science himself and everything into perfection; Sheoldred, black, and uh I honestly don’t remember lmao?; Vorinclex, green, he thought you could darwin yourself into perfection… and then theres our boy Urabrask, for the color red, for passion, ingenuity, the arts. Urabrask starts his story by immediately fucking off from the other four because he just wants to build shit and be left alone and not be involved in their scheming. So much, in fact, that when the other preators start spreading the oil further and converting the locals he orders all the phyrexians in his faction to allow refugees into their territory and to not mess with them. However this tolerance was built out of wanting to focus on and throw himself entirely to his Great Work, not some kind of moral code or kindness. He even ends up sealing his territory entirely later on, even to refugees. Later down the story they decide to change this. Presumably due to Elesh Norn’s rise as the main power in Mirrodin, now New Phyrexia, and her unwillingness to compromise, Urabrask is now reimagined as a revolutionary (which you know good on him right? Miles better than before and he was already the best among the five). Elesh Norn is at this point planning to extend her reach beyond New Phyrexia and to simultaneously invade every other world and infect/conquer them. urabrask, then, decides to revolt against Elesh Norn, but like… working and not working along side any one else? Like he’s supposedly doing his own thing along with Sheoldred but hes also constantly helping the main force? Anyways this ends up with him at best dismembered by Elesh Norn and now lost along with the rest of New Phyrexia in a pocket dimension. So what’s particularly weird is that he is a Phyrexian through and through. He wasn’t some goodguy tm. Yes he allowed refugees to seek shelter from the rest, but he was still trying to find a form of perfection through the oil. It makes some sense he would fight against Elesh Norn because shes imperialistic and she would push up against his territory. But the alliance of Everyone Else was out to completely destroy New Phyrexia, Phyrexians, and the phyrexian oil to a) defend themselves and b) because it literally just takes one drop. So Urabrask himself was on the chopping block… obviously selflessly fighting against an evil even when knowing you will probably end up dead as well is commendable, depending on circumstances, that’s just not how he was depicted on his original appearance at all. In his first appearances he’s just a dude trying to do his thing, being nice only by virtue of utter indifference, and years later when we see him again he’s now a gung-ho revolutionary setting up all the needed pieces for a fight that will end in his own death either by the hand of those he’s fighting against or those he is fighting with. I love him in both forms, but goddamn at least do more build up to it. As far as I’ve been able to find he has no plan for himself or his faction post defeating Elesh Norn and just got turned into a plot device to give the alliance a leg up and be able to win an otherwise impossible and mediocrity-ly written war.

Portrayed as a rebel against his fascist homeworld, ignored and randomly executed when it was time to actually fight them

They were killed off screen and didnt really get a satisfying ending. There were basicaly side lined in a story that they realistically should have been really important to

They had this whole buildup to him having an arc where he'd lead a Phyrexian revolution against Elesh Norn but instead they had every main character just brush it off as ""infighting"" since they think phyrexians are ontologically evil, and then had him publically drawn and quartered with literally nobody giving even a second thought about him, including Elspeth who was actively helping him before and Koth who at one point called him a friend. None of the official writing painted any of this as a bad thing.

Butchered their story and played them out as an evil when he wanted to free his people from tyranny and create.

FIRST OF ALL! His cards sucked for a very long time and only very recently had there been a non shitty urabrask. Secondly he’s by fAR THE MOST INTERESTING PHYRXIAN AND he just. NEVER GETS MENTIONED????

When Urabrask was originally introduced in the Scars of Mirrodin Block, he and his faction offered something that the other phyrexian factions didn't: empathy of for other beings, and thus, the possibility of nuance for the phyrexians. True, this empathy didn't extend into full-blown compassion, and true, he did not actively oppose the other praetors in killing and converting the native mirrans, but he did command his faction to leave any mirran refugees that entered his domain alone, and at the end of the block it was all but stated that Urabrask was planning to stage a rebellion against Elesh Norn. Come New Capenna and Urabrask has sided with the mirrans to overthrow Elesh Norn and fight against his fellow preators, even using the planar bridge to travel to New Capenna to research halo as a potential weapon even though traveling there destroyed his organic components and just being near halo caused him physical pain. Then in All Will Be One despite being explicitly stated to be fighting with the mirran rebels, Urabrask does not get a POV story, and barely gets a mention in the main story. Not only that, but in one of the side stories Slobad, one of Urabrask minions, is shown coercing mirran survivors into ""willing"" become compleated, and all of a sudden, the extra lore written about him talked about how he may prefer willing coverts to phyrexia, he was still more than willing to kill or forcefully compleate people to further his goals. Finally, midway through March of the Machines, Urabrask is executed by Elesh Norn without any meaningful resolution to his story.

-Absolutely downplayed his rebellion against phyrexia to a footnote in the story of other characters despite being a symbol for opposing everything the phyrexian invasion stood for while also *being* phyrexian. -Writers contradicted earlier in-canon explicit statements about his opinions on freedom and choice with later interviews and supplementary material out-of-canon seemingly to justify continuing to downplay him in-canon. -Finally had him captured off-screen just to be dismembered on-screen and then forgotten by the plot.

Set up to be a pivotal character in the resistance against Phyrexia. The set up to show there are sympathetic phyrexians against Elesh Norns cult-like society was being laid alongside Urabrask, but all of this is completely squandered. He's consistently devalued, his input is minimized, and depicted the layout that he's a powerful leader woth many forces behind him he is immediately undermined by only a few rogue underlings and immediately captured, tortured and implied killed offscreen. His death is not even mourned or regarded as anything. His actions should have helped but despite his resistance against phyrexia he's deemed as just another dead monster. Not a single ally he did have gives a shit that he died trying to help.

Urabrask is the most important good member of his species. It was necessary for him to have cooperative story moments with those who bunch him in with the rest of the aliens the ""heroes"" were going to genocide. Urabrask was supposed to be the symbol of co-existence and free will. Instead, he had almost no story whatsoever, with a completely unrelated scene showing him captured and dissected. He was discarded under the rug, when it should have been *him* to lead the resistance to victory against their oppressors.

Propaganda:

I will bite you if my baby doesn’t get in the poll also his wife is very petty look up Ayala furnace queen

Metal Dad deserved better

Vorinclex also deserved better

Praetors of new phyrexia (leader figures of the alien species) were mistreated and mischaracterized in the grand Phyrexia storyarch in general. It started great, but then they were killed off unceremoniously by writers that did not have the time or care to respect them.

Who else here got butchered into becoming selfless good guys? Vote for the artist turned revolutionary, a win for him is a win for tumblr.

him face :3

Urabrask is super cool. He is the first person in a race of evil alien people bent on infecting / killing / taking over people to go “hmmm maybe we should like ask them first” he is a king and was taken from us too soon

This submission also somewhat represents Phyrexians as a whole who were built up to make sure the audience has every reason to see them as people only to have the rug pulled out from under them and suddenly all phyrexians are treated as evil no matter what

#look how they massacred them poll #look how they massacred my boy #urabrask #magic the gathering #mtg urabrask #propaganda post