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junko-and-riri-domain · 3 years

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something you could almost label as love��| pjs

hi everyone !! tatts & cupcakes is back :)) idk if anyone still remembers it at this point or even wants to continue reading the series 😭 but thank you for all the interactions while i was ia on this blog 🥺 <3

i haven’t updated in a while so if i missed anyone on the taglist pls lmk also tumblr was being a dum dum and i couldn’t tag a few ppl so if you’re one of them i’m sorry 😪

You felt your palms sweating as you opened the door to reveal K, Heeseung, and Jake. While you weren’t worried about Ni-ki going out with Heeseung and Jake, you were nervous about him going out with K. Ni-ki didn’t know K was his father which was something you and K decided not to reveal until Ni-ki got more comfortable with K which was why they were going to the nearby plaza to shop with Heeseung, Jake, and Jungwon. Sunghoon would stop by the bakery later today to pick up the lunch you had offered to make and pack for them all.

“You good?” Heeseung asked, squeezing your shoulder as an act of reassurance. You nodded and took a deep breath, watching cautiously as Jungwon and Ni-ki went up to K and Jake.

“Just nervous, I guess.”

“I’ll make sure nothing goes wrong, don’t worry,” Heeseung said causing you to smile at him. Jay and Sunoo were going to spend the day together at home, something that you suggested in hopes of easing Jay’s stress. If Jay saw for himself how well Sunoo had gotten, he’d feel better about letting him go back to school tomorrow. After they left you saw Sunoo sulking on the couch, arms crossed and lips formed in a pout. Sitting next to him,

“What’s wrong bubs?”

“I wanted to go with them!” You sighed, petting his hair,

“I know, I know. But at least you’ll go to school tomorrow, right? You’ll get to see all your friends again!” you said in what hopefully sounded like a cheery tone. Yet still, Sunoo didn’t seem satisfied.

“How about I make you tteokboki for lunch tomorrow, will that help cheer you up?” At those words, Sunoo’s eyes up lit up and you knew that there was your sunshine. As much as Sunoo didn’t want you do, you had to leave to open up the bakery.

“I can drop you off,” Jay offered as you were putting your things in your bag.

“It’s ok, really Jay, thank you. Have fun at home with Sunoo, ok?” While you had left in a frenzy, there was now an extra thought added to Jay’s mind. “At home,” you called it. Yours and Ni-ki’s he wanted it to be.

You enjoyed your morning at the bakery, chatting with regulars, and giving out freebies to the cute little kids that stopped by with their parents. When Sunghoon stopped by, you set a picnic basket on the counter, about to explain the food inside when you suddenly received a call from the landlady of your and Ni-ki’s apartment.

“Hello?” you answered.

“Hi, you live in Apartment 22, right?” you heard from the other side of the line.

“Yes, I do.”

“Everyone needs to evacuate and pack up their things by tonight, there’s a rat infestation and the exterminators say that it’ll take 2 weeks until anyone can return to the building.”

“A rat infestation?” Why the hell was there a rat infestation and why was she telling you now?

“I’m sorry, hon. Everyone needs to pack what they can by 3 pm.” Checking the time, on your phone, it was only 11:21.

“Thanks for letting me know, I’ll leave right now,” was all you could say before ending the call. Sunghoon looked at you with a worried expression on his face,

“Rat infestation?” he asked. You nodded,

“Me and Ni-ki’s apartment, apparently it’ll take two weeks.”

“The two of you are staying at Jay’s place, though.”

“Yeah, but Ni-ki and I were gonna move out the day after tomorrow.”

“Just stay for two more weeks.”

“Hoon, I can’t do that. It’s not fair.”

“To Jay? I don’t think he’d mind if you two-”

“Not to Jay,” you muttered.

“Jungwon and Sunoo? But they like having their Ni-ki dongsaeng around.”

“To me! Sunghoon, it’s not fair to me!” you admitted.

“I- wait what?”

“I just, it’s not,” you took a deep breath, “Jay is good to me and Ni-ki, I know he is. But there’s just so much happening with Sunoo recovering and K returning. I can’t keep living with Jay, Jungwon, and Sunoo acting as if this whole situation is normal.”

“Do you want it to be?”

“What?”

“Living with Jay, being with his kids, do you want it to be normal?” You almost scoffed at the question,

“Of course I do, who wouldn’t?”

“Then make it normal.”

“Hoon, it’s not that easy. Getting into a relationship with three kids involved is messy and stupid and not the kind of heartbreak I’m willing to put anyone through.”

“Who says it’ll end in heartbreak.”

“That’s the only way I see this ending.”

“Open your eyes then.”

You quickly closed the bakery then rushed to your apartment and somehow, Jay and Sunoo were already there. Sunghoon probably told them.

“Hey,” Jay said as you walked up to them.

“You didn’t have to show up.”

“Of course I did, you and Ni-ki are staying for longer and I should help you move your stuff.”

“Jay, I don’t wanna be a bother. Ni-ki and I can spend the two weeks in a hotel, it’s fine.” Your tone was colder than anything that Jay had ever felt before.

“Are you uncomfortable? Living with me, I mean. Because if you are, I’m sorry.”

You wanted to tell him. Wanted to tell you that he made you weak with his soft gazes and sudden smile. Wanted to tell him that he made you regret how you had gotten so accustomed to his warmth that you probably wouldn’t be able to sleep without it. Wanted to tell him how he gave you hope, maybe love was in the cards for you one day. Wanted to tell him how he made you dream of the picture-perfect life you once thought was stupid. He made you weak, regret, hope, and dream in all the ways you didn’t know were possible but never were you uncomfortable.

“I just don’t wanna keep mooching off of you in your own house.”

“Really, I don’t mind if you and Ni-ki stay for longer. After all, what’s another two weeks?”

“You’re sure?”

“I am.”

“Pinky promise,” you said, bringing up your hand. He smiled as he interlocked your pinkies together and let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in.

You packed as many as your and Ni-ki’s clothes that you could, in the process bringing a couple of your blankets and little trinkets that you felt comfortable with. While you were in the car with Jay and Sunoo, the trunk filled to the brim with your and Ni-ki’s things.

“Are you really sure it’s ok that I brought so much stuff?”

“Don’t worry.”

“What if there’s not enough space? Your closet’s already full and Ni-ki’s toys might get everywhere.” Jay’s hand moved away from the gearshift and gravitated towards your hand, his thumb rubbing soothing circles,

“We’ll make space.”

The rest of the day went by easily, the guys decided to stay for dinner, and being with K for a longer period of time went by better than you expected. Before you and Jay fell asleep the two of you made a plan for tomorrow since it was Sunoo’s first day back at school. Sometime throughout the night, you woke up to go to the bathroom. After getting out of the bathroom and heading back to the bed,

“No,” you heard with what almost sounded like a whimper, causing you to turn on the lights to see Jay in bed with his eyes closed.

“Jay?”

“I-it’ll, it’ll be ok,” you heard him mutter, seeing him twitch slightly. Tears escaped his eyes as he muttered incoherent words. He was having a nightmare.

“Jay!” you exclaimed, shaking him slightly in hopes that it’d be enough for him to wake up but he stayed within the depths of his nightmare. Not knowing what else to do, you lightly slapped his cheeks, and somehow, that had work. The upper half of his body rose up, eyes frantic as they looked around the room, and only seemed to calm down when they settled on you. You feel him hug you, an action you returned by running your hand through his hair and rubbing his back as he panted heavily trying to return his breathing back to normal.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” you asked cautiously.

“We were in the hospital again. But this time,” he let out a shaky breath, his hold on you tightening, “Sunoo didn’t, he didn’t, love, I, I can’t-” Jay couldn’t bring himself say it out loud but you didn’t need to hear the words to know what he dreamt. Sunoo didn’t make it out alive.

“It’s ok, just keep breathing with me, yeah? Your boys are safe and sound in their room and Sunoo’s going back to school tomorrow, well, technically later. We made a plan, remember?” He nodded, seeming to calm down slightly.

“What was the plan? Repeat it to me.”

“We were gonna wake up early and make breakfast for the boys and pack all their favorite things for lunch. Tteokboki, curry buns, and bungeoppang. We’ll drop them off at school, I’ll drop you off at the bakery then head to work. I’ll pick them up, we’ll go to the bakery to pick you up, then go home.”

“And that’s exactly what we’re gonna do, ok?”

“Ok.” You and Jay ended up laying down afterward but he seemed like he was too shaken up to be able to sleep and honestly, so were you.

“Let’s bake cupcakes.”

“Right now?” You nodded, the hint of a smile playing on the corners of your lips,

“Right now.” Baking cupcakes with Jay at a time in the morning when you should’ve been asleep gave you a sense of comfort you didn’t realize you needed and he seemed to feel the same way. In order to not wake up the boys, you needed to stay quiet, talking in low tones and hushed whispers but neither of you seemed to mind. As the cupcakes were cooling and you were stirring the frosting, a shiver ran down your spine. Something that Jay had taken note of. You felt his presence behind you, confirmed as his chest pressed against your back, arms wrapping around you as his hands rubbed up and down your arms.

“Should I turn up the heat, love?” you heard him ask. Love, he called you, love. It was nothing new to hear Jay call you that but in this moment, you came to a realization. In love was what the past few weeks felt like. Yet despite this, a thought lingered in the back of your mind. What happened when the warmth faded? What happened after two weeks and you and Ni-ki had to move back to your apartment? What happened when the cocoon of warmth you spent so allowing yourself to get enwrapped turned to ice? What happened when you had to return back to reality? You were brought out of your thoughts at the sound of Jay calling your name, asking for confirmation to turn up the heat. But instead,

“If you did then there’d be no reason to stay like this,” you replied teasingly with a smile on your face. The charm of the necklace he gave you shimmered under the kitchen lights as it rested around your neck. Jay wanted nothing more than to tilt your chin upwards and kiss you right then and there. Wanted to show you how much you meant to him. Wanted to love you in all the ways that words could never do it justice. He was so caught up in his thoughts, mesmerized by your smile, and entranced by this whole situation that he hadn’t realized what had just happened when something cool was felt at the tip of his nose, then, on his cheek and he heard a laugh from you.

“Did you just- don’t tell me there’s frosting on my face right now.”

You weren’t quite sure what possessed you to perform your following actions in the next moments. Maybe it was lack of sleep. Maybe it was how close Jay was to you that you couldn’t help but want to be closer to him. Maybe it was the way your mind grew hazy with only one thought and one alone on your mind.

You couldn’t help it when you let go of the spatula.

Couldn’t stop yourself when you got on your tiptoes.

Couldn’t hold back from wrapping your arms around his neck and your fingers playing with the edges of his hair.

“There’s no frosting on your face.” Eyes looking in his for any signs of hesitancy, all you saw was something you could almost label as love. But you didn’t dare.

“No? Then what’s on my face?”

“Well on your lips,” closing the distance between your lips and his so that it was mere centimeters, “are mine,” you whispered before your eyes fluttered shut and the distance closed.

❦ written by riri ( @enhykkul ) | next | series masterlist

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scuttling · 3 years

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Present

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid/Latina OFC Sophie Cortes Word Count: 4,598 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Voyeurism, Masturbation in shower, Sexting, Oral Sex, Dom/sub, Protected Sex, Established Aaron/Sophie Summary: Sophie sends Aaron a sexy video while he’s away on a case, Spencer watches it, and smut ensues. Collection: Part 1 of 5 of Present, Perfect, Patient, Promise, Pretend series Note: This is a previously published work from A03, just moving it over to tumblr because I was thinking about it today. 🤤 Link to A03 or read below! “I sprained my ankle. I’m not injured, not really. I can even walk on it,” Sophie assures as she pours them each a cup of coffee in the break room. She sets the carafe down, takes a step, wobbles, and Aaron catches her around the waist with a raised eyebrow of judgement. “Okay, so I can’t walk that well, but I can certainly sit in a conference room bouncing ideas around and drinking coffee. That’s all Rossi does, anyway.” He chuckles softly, knows she’s still… warming up, to Rossi and his idiosyncrasies.

“You know the rules.”

“Yeah, because we’re so good at following the rules,” she teases with a smirk, running her hands down his stomach, stopping at his belt. He looks over at the bullpen out of the corner of his eye, shoots her a warning look that makes her sigh and pull away.

“Think of it as choosing our battles,” he suggests, hoping that might get her back on track. “If you want to continue making out in my office, you have to stay here this one time.” She smiles, crooked, nods her head.

“Okay, when you put it that way, I’ll take the make outs.”

“I thought you might. Plus, you get to spend all day with Garcia. I figured that would be like a dream come true.”

“It is, definitely. It’s more the long, cold, nights that I’m worried about.” He sighs, because she’s being so dramatic, but he doesn’t want to give her the satisfaction of making him smile again. He can’t be looking as smitten and infatuated with her as he is all of the time. “I’m going to be so lonely.”

“Oh, I think you’ll manage without sex for a few nights,” he teases, and she looks scandalized, as if that wasn’t exactly what she was getting at.

“It’s not about sex, it’s about intimacy, comfort, sharing my bed with a big heavy man who scares away the bad dreams.” She grins lecherously and he prepares to roll his eyes. “And who has a dick that won't quit.”

“Like I said,” he enunciates, taking his travel mug of coffee for the road, “you’ll be fine for a few nights. If you do decide to touch yourself, though, make sure you send me a present,” he reminds her, because they aren’t separated often, but when they are, a couple of racy pictures or videos almost always exchange hands. He bends for a quick kiss on the lips, brushes her cheek. “I love you. Behave.”

“I love you,” she murmurs, all tenderness and no heat, now. “Be safe.” Two days after taking the case, the team is on the jet for a night flight home. Spencer is tired, but he can’t sleep; JJ is stretched out on the couch, Morgan and Emily are slumped over in their seats up front with pillows and headphones, and Rossi has been snoring softly since they took off, so it’s just him and Hotch awake. They are in seats next to each other, Spencer by the window, because he knew he would be a little restless, and that Hotch wouldn’t sleep, so it seemed like the safest bet if he didn't want to disturb anyone’s rest.

He also enjoys the comforting presence of the older man, always, but especially in the calm, quiet atmosphere of the flight home.

He tries to listen to music, a podcast, but he eventually pauses it and just rests his eyes, his head, listens to Hotch as he flips pages or taps away at his phone. He’s probably texting Sophie, who’s home with a sprained ankle and who hasn’t stopped grumbling about it since. He smiles at the thought, likes when she’s comfortable enough to complain to him. Likes being someone she turns to.

He sighs. Feelings are complicated. Sometimes he hates being part of such a tight-knit team because it makes the things he feels all the more confusing, especially when the two objects of his (totally manageable) affection are in a relationship together; he feels like the odd man out, as always, can’t deny that it hurts sometimes.

He’s drifting in and out of the not quite asleep stage when he hears sound coming from Hotch’s phone, shuffling, ambiguous noises. He lifts his eyelids just slightly to see a video up on the screen, a wall that looks vaguely familiar, like a bathroom, maybe. There’s nothing particularly intriguing about that, but then he sees a pair of smooth, bare legs standing inside a bathtub and his interest is… piqued.

There’s another sound, unmistakably a shower being turned on, and then the woman—it is Sophie, no doubt; even if he can’t see her face, the tattoo on her forearm is easily identifiable—squats down, and she is so gloriously naked that he just… freezes. His body and his mind are suspended in a conflicting state of this is wrong, I shouldn’t be seeing this, and this is the best thing I’ve ever seen, and why is Hotch watching this right now, with me right next to him, and hnnng.

She pulls the shower head into view, lets it pour over her hair from what he can see of it, then down her breasts, her stomach, arms and legs; after that, she adjusts it to a stream that is harder and more controlled than one would typically use in the shower. He wonders why, thinks it could be uncomfortable, until she moves it to hover over her pussy, moaning softly, and then he really, really gets it.

His heart is racing as she runs her hand over her body, thumbing at her nipples, sighing at her own touch. She rocks back and forth a little so the stream of water hits her clit, then lower, between her lips, against her opening, and Spencer swallows hard.

“Mmm,” she sighs, and the sound goes straight through him; he feels himself getting hard as she murmurs, pressing her hand against the rim of the tub for leverage. “Mmm, yeah.” He can see that Hotch is breathing heavily next to him, eyes fixed on the screen. It’s too dark in the cabin to see his lap, but he knows he must be aching in his pants, too, wonders what it would be like if he reached out and touched him there.

Sophie is incredibly gorgeous as she works to reach her climax, bouncing lightly on her heels as the pressure builds, her moans longer and louder, but it’s when she stops moving and presses the shower head closer, directly over her clit, that he knows she’s almost ready to come.

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” she whines, pinching a nipple, arching her back, and her voice is high and breathy and addictive. He would give anything to be in the same room as those sounds, to pull her wet body close and help her get off. “Fuck, mmm,” she purrs, bringing the stream even closer, and she comes, short, loud moans that sound like they’re being ripped from her throat as her thighs shake, her chest heaves.

She drags a slow hand down her body, like she’s soothing herself, and then shudders, pulls the shower head away like maybe the pressure is too much where she’s sensitive. With a sigh, she reaches for the phone, tilts it so her face is in view, cheeks flushed and wet hair clinging to her shoulders. She turns up her lips in a coy smile. “See you soon.” The video ends.

It takes Hotch a moment to lock his phone, and he looks a little dazed when Spencer risks a glance up at his face—with good reason. If he was on the receiving end of videos like that, he would never be able to focus on anything.

The rest of the trip is quiet, certainly uneventful in comparison. Spencer makes a show of opening his eyes fully, stretching, thinks it would be too awkward now to admit he saw and heard every incredible second; Hotch looks over at him with an expression he can’t read, and then flips open a new case file.

When they land, he and Hotch are the last two to grab their bags, and Hotch brushes up against him in a way that feels purposeful, but is probably wishful thinking. “Do you have anything going on for the rest of the night?” he asks, and Spencer shakes his head.

“Nope, nothing.” Maybe masturbating—definitely masturbating—but he doesn’t need to know that. Hotch nods, thoughtful.

“You should come home with me.” Spencer looks at him with wide eyes.

“What?”

“We both know that you saw the video,” he says in a low, no nonsense tone that makes him gulp. “I told Sophie, and she seemed… interested in the prospect. So you should come home with me. If you want to.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—” Hotch raises a hand, halting his train of thought.

“I may have had a suspicion that you were awake when I chose to play the video, so don’t be so hard on yourself.” Spencer looks at his face, trying to determine if he’s saying what he thinks he’s saying. He did that on purpose? He knew that Spencer was watching? “No pressure, if you don’t want to come over. I would never want you to do something you don’t want to do.”

“I do want to… do… whatever it is we’re doing,” he rambles awkwardly, and Hotch chuckles.

“What we're doing is having sex. And I won’t touch you, or anything, if you don’t want that. It can be me and Sophie and you and Sophie.” Spencer swallows hard again, so turned on and breathless that it makes him feel bold.

“What if I do want you to touch me?” he asks, and Hotch leans in slowly, hot breath at his ear.

“Then I’m going to touch you.” When he pulls away, his fingers brush over Spencer’s jaw. “Do you want to come home with me?”

His answer is an emphatic yes. Aaron is due home any minute, and Sophie is vibrating with nervous energy, puttering around the apartment in her robe, couldn’t sit still if she tried. She waits for him on nights he has to work late and can’t bring it home, sure, but it’s almost never like this, where they are apart for days on end. It’s seriously affecting not only her sex drive, but also her mental state, which she hadn’t expected; she feels clingy, needy already, wants to smell him and touch him and taste him and be caged in by him, and it’s frankly getting a little out of hand.

It doesn’t help, she guesses, that she sent that video, but she was horny and wanted his attention… and boy, did she get it, had several texts come through a couple of minutes after she sent it, all very sweet and dirty and good.

Then she saw one about Reid, wanted to be mortified, but she just… wasn’t.

A: So, Reid saw me watching your present.

S: Oh, really? Did he like it?

A: Yeah, he liked it.

A: I bet he’d come pretty quick if he got to see the real thing.

A: Touch you… taste you.

God, how can this calm, controlled man make her such a whimpering mess with just a couple of texts? It’s unfair, is what it is.

S: Maybe we should invite him over sometime.

S: I’ve seen him looking at you, too.

S: Imagine how pretty he would look between us.

That was about an hour ago, and the only thing she received in reply was a brief message letting her know they’d landed and that he was on the way home. She hopes she didn’t upset him, knows that he’s mentioned being interested in men but that he’s never slept with one, hopes she didn’t hit a sore spot. She promises herself they will talk about it when he gets home.

But when he gets home, he kisses her so deeply she feels faint. Her body is lit up in an instant, suddenly desperate for more of him.

“I brought you a present,” he says, so low and sexy, and she grins, breathless, wraps her arms around his neck.

“Ooh, you know I love presents. What is it?”

“It’s not a what, it’s a who,” Spencer says, then, from the open doorway, and she glances between them, bites at her bottom lip. He steps inside and closes the door.

Fuck.

“Hey, Spencer,” she greets, but she can hear the tremble in her voice when she does. He looks to Aaron, and Aaron reaches back, wraps a hand around his wrist, guides him closer.

“I told him what you said, about how pretty he would look between us. He happened to agree, so I figured, why wait?” He looks her over intently, like he’s making sure she’s okay with this.

She is so okay with this.

She wants to speak but she’s so out of breath, her heart beating so fast, that she just pulls him down for a kiss, messy and graceless, and then she reaches for Spencer’s shirt and pulls him close as well, doing the same. She takes turns kissing them, ten kisses each, probably, until Aaron pushes her back gently with a soft laugh.

“Easy, baby. He’s going to stay the night; we have time to go slow.” Her chest is heaving, and he walks around so he’s standing behind her, unties the sash of her robe, pulls it off to reveal the lacy black bra and panties she thought would be a sexy surprise.

He kind of outdid her in the surprise department, but she’ll forgive him this once.

He runs his hands over her panties, her stomach, her boobs, and she bends her neck back, arching up for his lips, moaning against them. Spencer approaches, a bit hesitant, puts his hands on her hips and kisses her exposed throat, her chest. She feels like she’s died and gone to heaven, two pairs of hands on her, two mouths, her body pressed between them tightly. She thinks offhand that she’s glad her ankle doesn’t hurt anymore, because she could stand between them all night long, if they keep this up, would be content to never move again.

Then one of Spencer’s beautiful, incredible hands slips down the front of her panties, and they stop kissing her to kiss each other, and she whimpers, and her knees give out anyway.

“So dramatic,” Aaron whispers teasingly in her ear as he holds her up, big hands on her body, and she shakes her head, wets her lips.

“Not being dramatic. This is so fucking sexy.” Spencer—apparently not worried about the fact that she almost collapsed on them because Aaron wasn’t—slides two fingers over the slippery wet lips of her pussy, and she groans. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to take all the attention,” she murmurs, moving her hips against his hand. “Kiss some more, please.” Spencer huffs a laugh and leans in, catches Aaron’s lips with his. From her point of view she can see the slide of their tongues, lips pressing together, and she groans again.

“If it’s okay with you,” Spencer says to her when they separate, “I would really like to eat your pussy now.” He kisses her softly on the cheek, and she exhales, shaky.

“Yeah, please—please do that.”

“I’ll hold you,” Aaron whispers, lips at her ear. “I’ll be right here, I promise.” She hums, leans back against him, and Spencer drops to his knees, guides her panties down. She’s so wet there’s slick on the insides of her thighs, and when he lifts one leg to hook her knee around his shoulder, he licks it away. She shudders.

She feels like she should have known how hot and skillful his mouth would be, because he talks so fast sometimes that his brain—his incredibly high-functioning brain—can’t even keep up, and she usually finds his mouth cute, but right now she finds it sexy, will probably never be able to look at it without thinking of the way he feels with his tongue in her pussy.

He is very enthusiastic, licking her quick and deep, with one hand on her waist and the other rubbing her clit like he’s got a PhD in bringing girls to orgasm, and she knows she’s moaning like a slut, gets even louder when Aaron bites at her earlobe, kisses her neck, squeezes her breasts. “Fuck, oh fuck, yeah,” she pants, reaches a hand down to wrap it in Spencer’s hair, making him groan; she rocks against his delicious mouth, which he encourages, moving his hand to her ass and guiding her closer.

“Come for him, baby,” Aaron urges, hand inside the cup of her bra to pinch her nipple. “Isn’t he pretty, down on his knees for you?” She drops her head back against him, brings a hand to his hair, too.

“So pretty.” He stoops down to kiss her as best as he can, and Spencer’s looking up at them, gorgeous, and she comes tugging on both of them, panting into Aaron’s mouth.

When Spencer stands up and kisses her, mouth soft and wet after working her through her orgasm, and then Aaron leans in to taste both of them on her lips? It’s a wonder she doesn’t get weak in the knees again. Sophie is soft and pliant after she comes, clinging onto them, and Aaron lifts her into his arms and carries her to the bedroom, Spencer following closely behind. He sets her on the bed, unhooks her bra and pulls it off; Spencer watches closely as he does, kneels down to kiss her, brush his hands over her bare breasts, and she sighs at the treatment.

“What do you want to do?” Aaron asks them, getting down on his knees as well, and he kisses them, thrills at the similarities in their soft lips, soft skin.

“I wanna suck you both,” she says, and he touches her face gently.

“Are you sure you’re up for that? You look a little fuzzy.” He didn’t think that she would get submissive so quickly, since he hadn’t actually dominated her, but can see how feeling at the mercy of two men might make her go to that place; he just wants to make sure he does what’s best for her while she’s there.

“Might not be able to get you off, but I want them in my mouth. Can I?” She looks up at him, then at Spencer, who swallows visibly. Aaron gave him a little insight on the way there about how they normally interact with each other, how she likes to ask for permission and he likes to give it—or deny it, depending.

(Aaron Hotchner’s crash course on having a submissive girlfriend—he might have to find a way to monetize that, somehow.)

“You can, for a couple minutes. Then what do you want?” He looks to Spencer to see if he has anything in mind.

“I don’t—I’ve never done this,” he says quietly, and he and Sophie both touch him, and she nuzzles against his shoulder.

“Neither have we, it’s okay. You want to, though?” He looks at them with soft, open eyes, and nods without hesitation.

“Yeah, I want to.” Aaron takes his face in his hands, kisses him deeply.

“Okay, good. Sophie,” he says softly, touches her face too, “do you think you would be alright being with both of us at the same time?” She licks her lips and frowns a little like she’s confused.

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe we could lay you down, and one of us could be inside your pussy, and one of us could be inside your mouth. I’ll take your mouth,” he decides quickly, because she doesn’t like it too fast or rough and he knows her limits, doesn’t want to hurt or overwhelm her. “You’ll be full of us, baby. Do you think you want that?” She closes her eyes, nods, and Spencer touches her throat with long, gentle fingers.

“You’d give us that?” he asks like he’s in awe, and Aaron gets it, knows how much it means that she trusts them with something like this. “You’re incredible, Sophie,” he murmurs against her lips, and she sighs, pulls him closer.

Watching them make out is a very enjoyable thing, made all the more so when he decides to come up behind Spencer to unbutton his pants, untuck his shirt. The younger man moans at the feel of his hands helping him undress, and he presses back against Aaron’s chest, panting and eager. He guides him to stand, gets him naked, and wraps a hand around his long, hard cock, stroking it a couple times.

“You want her mouth on you while I get undressed?” he asks, and Spencer bucks up into his hand, nods quickly. Sophie reaches for him, pulling him closer, and she licks at the head, moans. “Gently,” he murmurs in Spencer’s ear, “let her be in control.” He nods seriously, presses a hand to Sophie’s cheek when she takes him in.

Between the two of them, their moans are so filthy, wanton, that he craves the heat of their mouths, so he captures Spencer’s in a kiss when he can, pulling off his clothes slowly so they can enjoy the time together. “Sophie,” Spencer murmurs, and she looks up at him, and Aaron’s arms around him, and whines. She pulls off of him, licks her lips looking hungry.

“I’m ready for you guys.” The simple sentence makes his dick throb, and he lays her back on the bed, kisses her soft and sweet and slow. Spencer curls around them, kisses them and rubs his hands over their bare skin.

“Spencer, can you get in that drawer and take out a condom?” he has presence of mind to ask, glad that the ones they have should fit him, and he stretches up, all long, lithe muscles, grabs one and tears the wrapper open, rolling it on. Neither Aaron nor Sophie can take their eyes off of him, and when he’s finished, Aaron moves out of his way so he can settle between her legs. She hitches up her knees, and he knows first hand how inviting that can be, understands completely when he shivers with pleasure.

Aaron kisses Sophie a few more times, whispers sweet, loving words into her ear, and then he crawls up by her head, the tip of his dick at the same level as her mouth.

“Are you okay, baby?” he asks, running his hands over her breasts, and she nods, puts her hands on Spencer’s hips and pulls him closer until he is fully sheathed inside her; he keeps still, panting, and Aaron leads forward to brush his hair back. “You’re so gorgeous, Spencer,” he coos, and then he presses into Sophie's mouth, sighs.

She takes him in hand, guiding him in and out at a pace she’s comfortable with, so he just lets her take the lead and runs his hands over her body, Spencer’s fingers where they press against her thighs. He is pumping into her deeply now, an easy rhythm Sophie matches with her hand, and the room is filled with a symphony of soft, wet sounds and moans and hums that Aaron doesn’t think he’ll ever forget.

He is wholly unsurprised when he is the first to come, because watching Spencer’s hips move against her, his hands careful where he holds her down, and feeling her moan around his cock because she loves feeling full, it’s all too much for him. He spills with a groan, and Spencer watches his face like it’s art, which makes him feel warm in his chest. Something to explore at a later time.

Sophie lets go of him, panting, and he slides down to his belly so he can kiss her mouth, caress her. He looks up at Spencer, who appears to be trying so hard not to come, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, and he rubs Sophie’s clit to help get her close, so he’ll stop trying so hard and just let himself feel good.

“Oh, god,” Sophie whines, brings her hands up to squeeze hard at her breasts. “This is good, so good, mmm.” She starts bucking hard against him, her neck stretched long, and he knows the instant she comes, her mouth opening in a wordless moan before she all but howls her pleasure. Spencer groans, shifts his legs a little so he’s hovering over the both of them, and he thrusts for a few more seconds before finding his own orgasm. “Hmm, yes,” Sophie sighs, and he kisses her slowly, passionately; Aaron rubs both of their bodies as they shiver with aftershocks, and they all sink into the mattress, deeply spent.

They cuddle together for a few minutes, until Sophie complains she has to pee, and she and Spencer go into the bathroom together to take care of business. Aaron runs a hand through his hair and exhales long, because this is the absolute last thing he expected to happen, while also being one of the most unforgettable nights of his life; he knows they’ll look to him for guidance about what to do next, and he’s really not sure what to say when they do.

When they amble back into the room, they’re both smiling softly, and Aaron smiles because he can’t help it. They climb back onto the bed, Spencer in the middle, though Sophie reaches across him to rub at the hair on Aaron’s chest.

“So that’s a thing that happened,” Sophie says eventually, propped up on her elbow, looking over at their two blissed out faces with nothing short of affection. “Is it a thing that’s going to happen again, or a thing we swear up and down didn’t happen?—No pressure, only asking so I know how to compartmentalize my many, many thoughts.”

Aaron looks to Spencer and can’t help but feel like there’s something more worth exploring, there. He thinks Spencer feels the same when he pulls him in for a tender kiss.

“I think it should happen again,” Spencer murmurs, and Sophie leans down to kiss him too.

“Yeah, it should happen again.” Aaron sits up, smiles at his girl, guides her mouth to his.

“Okay, then.” They kiss again, easy, sweet, and he breathes a laugh. “We owe you for this, you know: you and your little shower performance.”

“Oscar worthy,” Spencer says with a grin, and Sophie shoves him playfully.

“Hey, a girl has needs.”

“And we’ll help you meet them,” Aaron promises, running a hand suggestively along her body, and she covers it with hers.

“No way. I’m tapped out, buddy. Unless I get sleep or pizza, no more sex from me tonight.” Aaron feigns hurt, pulls away, flops onto his back with an exaggerated sigh, and she crawls past Spencer to straddle his waist. “So dramatic,” she teases, leans down for a kiss, then climbs off the bed altogether. “I’m good with pizza—I don’t want to go to sleep just yet, not when I’ve got two pretty boys in my bed.”

“I second pizza,” Spencer murmurs, his face pressed against Aaron’s bicep. Sophie pauses in the doorway, a thoughtful look on her face.

“Do you think they’ll do a third veggie, and a third pepperoni, and a third Hawaiian? Or am I gonna have to order two pizzas?” She comes back over to the bed, kisses them both soft, affectionate, and smiles. “Always complicating things, Spencer Reid.”

#aaron hotchner x original female character #hotch x original female character #latina original female character #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #spencer reid x original female character #aaron hotchner x spencer reid #aaron hotchner x spencer reid x original female character #spencer reid x reader

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childishfluff · 3 years

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Little Kitten- [TommyInnit Pet Regression Oneshot]

Pet Regressor/Kitten!TommyInnit, CGs/Handlers!Wilbur and Tubbo

Tommy liked feeling small. But more then that, he liked feeling like a small kitten. He liked cat ears and playing with balls of yarn, and curling up in a little ball to take a nap. None of this was a problem until Wilbur and Tubbo came to stay at his house for a week, and he had to hide both a littlespace, *and* a kittenspace. And when Tubbo continuously calls him a "kitten" due to his results on a stupid internet "what animal am I" quiz, and Wilbur literally pets him while cuddling, he realizes he wasn't going to last a day. He was simply a little kitten. And now his friends knew that. -- This is non-sexual, sfw age+pet regression, dni if your nsfw/abdl/ageplay/petplay/cgl/ect. If any of the creators included in this work say *anything* about being uncomfy with fan fiction/of agere content including them, I will take this down and/or modify it appropriately. If they have already said something that I'm unaware of, please let me know.

A/N: so I was reading some tommy centric fics and the idea of Catboy!Tommy popped in my head, which eventually evolved into Kitten Regressor!Tommy as I brainstormed and this 4000-something oneshot happened. To my knowledge, there are no other pet regression fics in this fandom, and this is my first pet regression fic. If I misrepresented something, or you just wanna tell me something cool about pet regression in the comments, feel free too lmk in the reblogs/replies/in my ask box after reading!

For those who don't know, pet regression is similar to age regression. Pet Space (kittenspace,puppyspace,ect) is a separate headspace that someone can slip into, where they act like a different critter or creature. It can be used for all the same reasons as agere, and the online communities overlap a ton! You can look into it more, but that's the gist of it! It's nonsexual, safe for minors, and it ISN'T P3TPL@Y! also warning for a very brief mention of kinks and "getting off" (tommy basically saying that he's not into petplay) at the beginning.

Tommy liked feeling small. But more then that, he liked feeling like a small kitten.

Figuring this out was confusing for him. Even after discovering why he liked acting like a toddler sometimes, and why it helped him, he had to figure out why he also found comfort in pretending to be an animal. At first, he thought that this cutesy cat-like headspace was just him playing around while little, pretending to be one of his favorite creatures.

But then, he noticed how different his behaviors were when he got like this versus when he was just being a kid. It was really annoying, because he could research anything without stumbling across kinks that he was sure he wasn't into.

Just because the thought of wearing cat ears and curling up in someones lap and being pet softly made him happy, didn't mean he got off on it. Eventually, though, he discovered pet regression.

The pet regression community was overlapped, heavily, with the age regression and age dreaming ones he already secretly took part in. He was shocked he hadn't stumbled across it during his late-night scrollings through the "littlespace" tumblr tags.

Just like when he discovered his littlespace, he bought things online with money saved up from streaming, telling his family it was supplies for a video, and created a secret little box that sat under his bed for whenever he wanted to indulge in that headspace. Choker necklaces that resembled kitty collars, cat ears, certain sensory toys, different snacks.

Now, none of this would be a problem, if it wasn't for the fact that Wilbur and Tubbo coming over to stay at his house for a week while his parents were on vacation. Yes, he had pushed to stay home, preferring that he was babysat by someone he saw as his older brother, instead of being forced to go on a boring trip and go on a forced streaming break.

But he didn't quite think out how he'd pull off not regressing in front of either of the two of his friends, for a whole week. Tommy regressed the most when his parents weren't home, and now he couldn't do that.

All he could do is hope that he wouldn't slip, and that they wouldn't discover either of the two boxes under his bed. He'd quickly find that that was really hard when he had two friends that constantly teased and babied him.

"So, what should we do this week? Besides streaming and gaming, of course," Tubbo questioned from his spot where he laid on Tommy's bed, staring up at the ceiling. Tommy shrugged, spinning a bit in his gaming chair.

His parents had left a few hours ago to catch their flight, after Tubbo and Wilbur were dropped off early that morning. Tubbo had gotten settled, and Wilbur took the responsibility of making them lunch. So now, the two teenagers sat in Tommy's bedroom.

"I don't know. We'll obviously film some videos," Tommy spoke casually, biting the inside of his cheek. All the excitement and anticipation had worn off, and now they were bored. Yeah, they could start a stream or boot up a game, but it felt right to just enjoy each others company. They had sat in silence for a while, their previous conversation falling off when they ran out of things to say, until one of them tried to start another.

Tubbo had gone through a lot of trouble with his parents to be there, doing everything he could to convince them that Wilbur was responsible enough to watch over him for a week. Tommy wasn't just gonna shove a mic in his face and tell him to entertain his twitch viewers.

"I have an idea!" Toby gasped, sitting up suddenly.

"What is it?" Tommy laughed a bit at his sudden realization, and how his friend had replied to it.

"We should take online quizzes together," he suggested. "Hogwarts house, personality type, whatever you want, and compare our results. You in?" he questioned, standing up and coming over to sit in the wooden chair to the left of Tommy's.

For now, the blonde had two of his kitchen chairs in his room, so that the three men could huddle up together at his PC for streams throughout the next week. "Sure," Tommy nodded a bit, booting up his computer.

"We should start with the Hogwarts House quiz, don't ya think?" Tubbo asked, watching him open his browser.

"Sounds good to me," Thomas agreed, following his suggestion and searching up the desired quiz.

After a handful of quizzes, most of which Tommy deemed "inaccurate" due to results that didn't make any sense to him, they took a "what animal are you" quiz. Tommy knew what his results would be, he's taken tests like this a million times.

It'd most likely label him as a cat. He figured that Tubbo would be none the wiser, clicking through the test and answering honestly. He was a little taken aback when the result screen specifically told him that he was a "kitten".

"Aww," Toby cooed in a teasing voice. "I thought that you might've gotten 'cat', but kitten? That's so cute." he laughed a bit.

"It's probably because they just put kitten in place for cat," Tommy scoffed, hoping with every ounce of his soul that he was pulling off the "shocked and annoyed" act, which he hoped covered up his nervousness.

"Let's see," Tubbo took control of the mouse, click on the drop down arrow next to the blue text that read 'All Possible Results'. "See! There is an option for cat, and it called you a kitten!" he cheered, causing Tommy to roll his eyes a bit.

"Whatever," he said, "It said you were a Golden Retriever, so..."

"Tom-Tom's a little kitty!" Tubbo ignored his statement, talking loudly in a sing songy voice. Tommy knew that he wasn't doing this to be mean, and that he was just joking around, but it did hurt a bit. Because he was a kitten sometimes, and it felt like his friend was making fun of it.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about, but the food is ready," Wilbur's voice joined the conversation, the older man suddenly appearing in Tommy's doorway. Tommy jumped to defend himself, but Tubbo got there first.

"We took an online quiz that said Tommy was a kitten! 'Cat' was an option, but it said that he was a little kitty," he laughed again.

"Oh, don't tease him." Wilbur said, "Those tests are crap anyway, I'm sure there was a question you misunderstood or something." he claimed as he came closer to them, standing behind the two chairs as he looked at Tommy's monitor. He could tell that the teasing was making Tommy a bit uncomfortable.

He didn't know why for sure, figuring that it had something to do with being called a 'kitten' feeling to childish for him. "Maybe," Tommy agreed, looking up to Wilbur thankfully. Tubbo must've realized that he accidentally upset Tommy when Wilbur intervened and Tommy immediately seemed relieved, because the next thing he did was apologize.

"I'm sorry, Tommy," he spoke up. "I was just teasing, I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's all good," Tommy smiled a bit, shrugging, feeling a little better with the reassurance that it was all just a joke. "Most of the tests were crap anyways."

The three of them shifted their conversation to other topics, making their way out to the kitchen to eat the food Wilbur made. Later on, they all gathered up blankets and pillows and snacks to watch movies in the living room.

Tommy was a little worried that the Disney movie Wilbur picked would make him go into littlespace, but that seemed to be the least of his worries as they tried to figure out their cuddling positions for the movie. Of course, they didn't need to cuddle, but it seemed that they all silently agreed that they would be.

"I wanna lay down," Tommy whined, re positioning a pillow near one end of the couch.

"Come here, you crybaby," Wilbur ordered, grabbing his arm. Tubbo was curled up to Wilbur's side, one of the older mans arms around him as he settled into the warmth of the embrace. Wilbur guided him into laying down so that his head was in his lap, a few layers of soft fabric between their skin.

Tommy didn't fight against this, blushing just a bit as he curled up, letting Wilbur lay a blanket over him. "Is this okay?" he asked in a soft voice, looking down as him. Tommy nodded softly, glancing up at him for a moment before he looked away shyly. Why was he so bashful right now?

"Cuddly," he mumbled simply, settling into the position mindlessly. Wilbur seemed pretty amused by this, using his nails to scratch his scalp, the action not unlike how he'd scratch a kitten's head if one curled up in his lap. Again, Tommy didn't protest, leaning into the touch a bit.

Wilbur continued doing things like this as the movie played, sitting back and lightly petting the boy. He'd play with his hair, or run his fingers over his skin in simple patterns. It was just a cute way of showing affection, and the blonde teenager seemed to enjoy.

Meanwhile, Tommy was holding back kittenspace and trying to focus on the childish movie. His petspace was voluntary, to his knowledge. But Wilbur treating him like a cat, giving him the simple affection he's secretly wanted for so long, made him want to regress to the state of a kitty so bad. He was halfway there already.

He just wished that he could put on his little cat ears. He always looked to cute when he did.

His friends did notice that he stayed very quiet throughout the movie, not really replying to their joked or adding onto their commentary of the movie. They didn't say anything, though, assuming that he was just sleepy earlier than usual, joking amongst themselves as the plot of the movie played out on the screen.

At one point near the end of the movie, Wilbur reached over and scratched the patch of hair closest to Tommy's ear, earning a hum from him. It sounded much closer to a kitten's pur, which shocked Wilbur. He looked over to Tubbo, leaning close to him and whispering, "He really is a little kitten, huh?" as he continued to scratch his scalp.

Toby giggled a bit, nodding in agreement. Tommy seemed to suddenly realize what he was doing when Wilbur pulled his hand away for the time being, cutting out his low hum and burying his now-red face in the blankets across Wilbur's lap.

Wilbur could help but think about how cute he looked doing that, immediately feeling the need to cuddle the boy close and protect him.

Eventually the credits started rolling, and Wilbur told the boys to get off of him. Tubbo did it with little complaining, stretching a bit and standing up with a yawn. Tommy, however, completely lost in his kitten space as this point, whined, pouting.

"I know you're comfy, and probably sleepy, but it's time to get up, Toms." Wilbur told him, fighting against the urge to just push him off the couch. Yes, it'd be funny, but it'd also be mean. Wilbur didn't wanna upset him.

When Tommy didn't reply, remaining curled up with his head in Wilbur's lap, the pet his head softly once again, pushing back the blanket that laid over him a bit. Immediately, Tommy switched his position so that he was laying on his back, swiping his hand at Wilbur's, scratching him a bit.

Like a playful kitten.

Wilbur gasped, seemingly confused as he tilted his head. He dropped the blanket, pulling the attacked hand to his chest defensively. Tommy didn't hurt him all the much but he did just try to scratch him in response to his blanket be taken away. It was funny, and cute, but also confusing. "Ouch! Why'd you do that?" Wilbur asked, pulling his hand away immediately.

Tommy pouted up at him, not knowing exactly how to verbally apologize. He decided on his next actions, rolling over so that he was on his stomach and stretching out. He then adjusted himself so that he was on his knees and hands, looking at Wilbur with a slight head tilt.

There was still a clear pout on his face, his eyes innocent and cute. "What are you doing?" Wilbur chuckled, not understanding his behavior. He couldn't blame all these absolutely adorable actions on being sleepy, surely. He was acting like a kitten, undeniably.

"He's a kitten!" Tubbo said, coming closer to him and scratching Tommy's head. Tommy nuzzled into his hand as he leaned into the touch. "Pet regression," he remembered the name for it, saying it suddenly a few moments later. "I thought Tommy might've been a little but I didn't know about this."

"What?" Wilbur questioned, only more confused than before.

"I think Tommy's an age regressor, and a pet regressor, too, apparently," Tubbo looked to Tommy for some sort of confirmation. Tommy nodded a bit, shyly, confirming both of his guesses. "He can revert back to the state of a child, and also a kitten! He's in a cat-like headspace, so he's going to act like a baby kitty." Tubbo giggled, wiggling his fingers over Tommy's head and watching as he swatted at it. Toby pulled his hand away at the last second.

"I researched age regression because Tommy was acting a bit childish during a late night call a while back, and came across petre too," Tubbo added. "I was planning on asking him about the little thing while I was here, actually."

Tommy didn't know that Tubbo already knew. If anyone could've guessed, it would've been him. They were best friends. He'd call him a lot when upset, or stressed, to talk about what was bothering him. It wasn't a shock that the main person who saw him when he needed something to help him feel better had started to pick up on the traits that hinted toward the coping skill he used to feel better.

Wilbur seemed to understand. For whatever reason, Tommy liked acting like a cat. It was a sort of headspace that he could get into, that Wilbur must've accidentally triggered. Tubbo continued to play with and pet Tommy, explaining the basics of both age regression and pet regression to Wilbur.

"They can both be done for coping, voluntarily or involuntarily. It seems that all the cuddling and petting made him slip. I think he's nonverbal, too, at least as a kitten," Tubbo said, running his fingers through Tommy's hair. At some point, Tommy had sat down, still playing along and swiping at his hands here and there. Tubbo seemed so excited to play with him, and that made him happy!

"Agere and petre can intersect, too. So he might just act childlike with kitten-qualities mixed in," Tubbo continued to explained. "There's also pet gear and little gear, stuff you use when you get into those headspaces. Do you have any of that, kitty?"

Tommy nodded a bit, reaching over and pressing on Wilbur's shoulder, as if telling him to follow as he stood up. He didn't like traveling on all fours all the time in kittenspace, and would only crawl short distances. Otherwise, he would just walk like he would usually. Maybe skip, if he was in a good mood.

Wilbur followed his nonverbal request, following the two teenagers to Thomas's bedroom. Tommy dropped to the floor next to his bed, Tubbo following suit. Tommy pulled out one of the boxes, Toby grabbing the other. "So what is pet and little gear for?" Wilbur asked, curiously.

"I'm sure Tommy will be willing to tell you more when he's up to talking," Tubbo's words earned a slight nod as the regressor opened the box. "But it's basically stuff to help you according to the headspace your in. Comfort items, childish things for littlespace, stuff to make you feel more like a pet for petre."

"Like cat ears or collars for kittyspace!" he added with a chuckle as Tommy pulled those items out of the box, waving them around as an example. His cat ears were all on headbands. He had white and orange ones, black ones with little ribbons, another set with little bells, he didn't know which ones he wanted.

Tubbo realized that his box was little gear, sliding it back under the bed and focusing on Tommy, who seemed happy.

He bounced in place a bit, very excited and playful now, despite being sleepy before. He was happy! When Tubbo believed that his friend might've been different, instead of judging him, he researched a ton and then jumped in to help him when he needed it. And Wilbur, who didn't completely understand what was happening, was still being supportive, just asking questions.

He thought that they were gonna weird about it, or judge him. But here Tubbo was, playing with him and answering questions for him because he understood his nonverbalism. "When will he be....not a cat, anymore?" Wilbur pondered.

"Depends. Regression can last a few minutes to a few days, who knows. But while he's like this, we should make him comfortable, don't ya think?"

Wilbur hummed a bit. He could ask more questions later, directly to his friend that actually experienced this stuff and would be able to tell him more. For now, he'd do his best to make Tommy comfortable, like Toby had said.

Tommy grabbed the cat ears with the bells, white furred ones with pink inside the ear, little pink bows and gold bells on them. He shook it in his hand, like a rattle, listening to the music it made. He made a squeak that sounded suspiciously like a "meow", before giggling. "Did you cat those ears, Tommy?" Wilbur asked, softly taking the headband from him.

Tommy pouted, nodding as the ears were taken from his very pa- hands. He wasn't actually a kitten, he had human hands. He giggled at his own thoughts, snapping out of it when he felt the headband slip onto his head. Wilbur adjusted it.

"There." he stopped after a second, looking him up and down. "You're adorable," he complimented. Tommy blushed, smiling. He looked back down to the box, pulling out a white choker, which had another pink ribbon in the front, with a larger, silver bell hanging from it. He immediately put it on, fiddling with the bell.

"Did you wanna change? There's some clothes in that box," Tubbo asked. As expected, Tommy didn't verbally reply, digging through his box and pulling out a white adult onesie, designed to resemble a real baby one. It was plain, with pink lining, obviously picked out to go with the choker and cat ears.

"Aww," Wilbur cooed, immediately. "You want the onesie, sweetheart?"

Tommy nodded a bit, also grabbing pastel pink shortalls. He might've been happy, and seemingly comfortable, but he was not walking around in just a onesie. "That'll look cute together," Tubbo approved of his outfit choice. Tommy grabbed a few more things from the box, either setting it in a pile, or holding it in his arms.

He left to go to the bathroom, pushing the box back under the bed and leaving without another word. "What all did he pull out?" Tubbo asked, looking to the pile with curiosity.

"A stuffed kitten," Wilbur stated, looking at the white stuffed toy. "It seems that he dressed up to look like this toy," he chuckled. Tubbo laughed, too. "Uh, there's a ball of yarn, and a little white ball?" he sounded curious, picking it up. Quickly, Wilbur realized that it rattled.

"Oh, he likes things that make sounds," Tubbo reasoned. "Rattles and bells. That's cute," Tubbo smiled. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, a pink scarf." Wilbur replied. "Does he just play with anything?" he laughed.

"Isn't that what actual cats do? They scratch at and play with anything in sight," Tubbo joked.

"Fair enough."

They kept talking until they heard shuffling by the door. There, stood Tommy, clad in his cute little, perfectly planned-out outfit. Just his presence earned coos from his friends, who immediately complimented him. "You look so adorable, kitten!" Wilbur said, motioning him over. Tommy approached them, dropping to his knees and hands when he got close to them, 'pouncing' across the carpet.

He giggled, returning to his previous sitting position next to his pile, grabbing the stuffed kitty. "You look just like your toy, y'know." Tubbo told him. Tommy smiled wide, as if he was proud of this fact, nodding quickly. He wore knee-high socks with his out, white and pink striped to match the rest of the outfit. It seemed he took pride in color-coordinated, cute outfits, unlike when he was in his usual headspace. He usually just threw on a baseball shirt and jeans.

"She kitty, and m' kitty too," he mumbled, speaking for the first time since entering his kitten space earlier that day. He didn't talk much in kittenspace, he always had to pull himself into an "in-between" headspace to do so, but he could if he wanted or had to.

"Aww, the kitty can talk. Yes, you are both very adorable kittens," Wilbur cooed from his spot next to the regressor, wrapping his arms around him. Tommy melted into the embrace, nuzzling the side of his face into the part of Wilbur closest to him, his arm.

Tubbo didn't interrupt their moment, waiting for one of them to speak. After a bit of silent cuddling, Wilbur spoke up. "How about we all move back to the living room and set up a little play area for you, yeah? I'll turn on some cartoon, and make some snacks, and we can have fun until bedtime. Does that sound nice, kitty?"

He swayed in place a bit, moving Tommy with him. Tommy nodded excitedly. "Snuggles," he mumbled when Wilbur pulled away from their hug, pouting. "Snuggle me! M' a cute kitty!" he giggled, pointing to himself. He scrunched his nose a bit.

Tubbo and Wilbur knew that the boy was very different off camera. Sometimes, he was still loud, and cursed a lot, but others, he was chill. And apparently, he could be soft sometimes, too.

"I have no doubt about that," Wilbur chuckled, tapping the button of his nose with his index finger, Tommy swatted at it, a bit confused on what to do next when he successfully got ahold of his finger. He put his other 'paw' around it too, dragging his hand to his mouth and biting on his finger.

Wilbur pulled back his hand quickly, shocked. "Bad kitten! We don't bite," he scolded, tapping his head lightly with his hand. Not enough to hurt him, but enough to let him know that he wasn't supposed to do what he just did. Tommy pouted again, his eyes immediately glossing over.

Again, he felt like he couldn't verbally apologize, to upset to pull himself out of headspace enough to talk. This frustrated him and only upset him more. He took the hand he had bit by the wrist, nuzzling his hand into it.

The main difference between Tommy in kittenspace and a real kitten is that he still had, at the very least, a child's level of emotional intelligence. Which meant that he was able to tell when people were upset with him. And he didn't like it when someone was upset with him.

He didn't have kitty teeth! Which meant that his bites hurt a lot more then a kitten's, he reasoned mentally. Wilbur was upset because he hurt him. Cuddles would make it all better, because cuddles made all boo-boos better, he decided.

"Oh, you're okay, baby," Wilbur assured, scratching at his scalp and playing with his hair again. "You didn't really hurt me," he said, as if he was able to read his mind. "You don't need to cry, little kitty."

Tommy kept nuzzling his hand, blinking away his unshed tears. Tubbo leaned close to Wilbur, whispering into his ear.

"Call him a good kitten."

Wilbur nodded, figuring that that made sense. Wilbur had reassured Tommy in every other sense, but he was still guilty. There was a good chance that his emotional response was to the term "bad kitten!".

"You're such a sweet, good kitten."

As predicted, his head perked up at that. He tilted his head, as if to ask 'really?'. "A very adorable, sweet baby kitten," Wilbur ran his fingers through Tommy's hair, his words and affection earning a smile from the pet regressor. "Let's gather up these toys and go set up in the living room, kay? Is there anything else that you need?"

Tommy nodded shyly, crawling over to the edge of his bed and pulling out the little box. He located a light pink plastic item, holding it up. "No more bitin'," he said, slipping the adult pacifier into his mouth. It only added to the childish look.

Wilbur and Tubbo smiled at him. Wilbur was glad that he picked the right cuddling position that somehow led to this, and Toby was glad that he did all that research over the past few weeks. And they were all glad they had planned this one week meet up.

They moved out to the living room, where they played and watched cartoons late into the night. The following morning, Tommy thanked the two of them for everything, and they had an honest conversation about it, telling them everything. How long he had been regressing, both for little and kitten space, how often he did it, when he got all the little and kitten gear.

Wilbur and Tubbo asked a ton of questions, and Tommy answered every single one. Over the next week, between streams and video-filming, Tommy would regress and let his friends learn more about little him, and kitty him. Who Wilbur and Tubbo started calling 'Tom-Tom', by the way.

Eventually, Wilbur would become Tommy's caregiver and handler, after babysitting him over discord calls many, many times. All thanks to that one week visit.

Tommy was so glad he ended up slipping that night, even if it was inconvenient at first. Everything worked out in the end, and he wouldn't change the events of that night if he could.

It all led to him being Wilbur's 'good kitten'.

A/N: let me know if you have requests for any agere/age dreaming/pet regression fics involving some of the DreamSMP members, lmk! I may not write it, due to not knowing to much about a specific youtuber or being uncomfy w/the prompt, but I always love hearing ideas! Please leave feedback/your thoughts on this in the reblogs/replies/my ask box too, I definitely would like to hear them! I hope y'all enjoyed, I spent a while writing this and I hope it makes *someone* happy!

-Apple

#TommyInnit #little!tommyinnit #kitten!tommy #dream smp petre #cg/handler!wilbur+tubbo #cg!wilbur #cg!tubbo #Dream SMP #age regression #kittenspace #pet regression #pet regressor!tommy innit #dream smp agere

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theonetheycallhannah · 3 years

Text

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 19: Debridement

Characters: Captain Logan “Sy” Syverson, Shane Benton (OFC), various other original supporting/secondary characters

Summary: Shane begins to process life after her trauma, and Sy delivers the news of her safety to the people that matter most to her…but there is pushback on a few aspects of his report.

Romance and Smut Abound HERE!

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Mostly fluff, but with mention of Shane’s trauma in the cellar. Not graphic.

Author’s Note: My darling readers! Thank you so much for your patience as I deal with seasonal stress, fatigue, anxiety, and some depression. It was my goal to have all chapters of this story done by the end of this year. I don’t think I’ll accomplish it, but I’ll do my very best to get at least one more chapter up by the 31st. 2020 has been a totally shit year, but I will forever owe it some remarkable things. This story, which has been an amazing escape from real life, the friends I’ve made from all over my country and the world, many of them because of this story, and a long overdue shift in my work hours starting next week. I’ll be glad to see the back of it, but the year has really opened me up to new ideas and some major soul-searching. I think, mentally, I’m actually more myself than I’ve ever been, despite some blue times. You can all take some credit for that improvement, because many of my moments of clarity have arisen from brilliant and profound posts here.

The title of this chapter seemed appropriate for a few reasons. Wounds are cleaned and cleared of damaged tissue during debridement. This is one of the steps usually required for a large and/or traumatic wound to heal. We see Shane beginning this process here in this chapter, and in a sense, Sy, as well. The cleansing of Shane in both the literal and figurative sense was so interesting and satisfying to write. And Sy’s bit at the end was a fun puzzle in which I had to figure out how to have Sy give the same news to four different recipients without sounding repetitive. I hope that landed, and if anyone has any suggestions, please let me know.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism. This is an original work by me, Hannah. Please reblog if you wish to share. Please do not repost either in whole or part, as the work of anyone but myself. Thanks so much for reading!

Tags:

@onlyhenrys @cavillryarchive @summersong69 @titty-teetee @bloodyinspiredfuck @agniavateira@oddsnendsfanfics @omgkatinka @thisismysecretthirstblog @speakerforthedead0 @tumblnewby @suavechops @radkesgirl83 @wheretheriversrunintothesea @heartfelt-pen @auds24 @geekycanuck @lunarstarknight @wilma-g @coldmuffinbanditshoe @feralrunaway @sugarpenchant @bichibibi @mzchievous-blog @shesakillerkween @madbadidc7ed @foodieforthoughts @toomanyfandomsshreya

If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

Shane still felt as if her head was floating above her body, like a balloon on a long string. The combination of meds in her system had helped many of her symptoms. The pain she felt, the physical pain, had been alleviated. Her troubled mind had been put at ease, more or less. But that was a long time ago. And unfortunately, the side effects weren't wearing off at the rapid rate of the intended ones.

As she sat in the SUV--the escape vehicle-- parked outside a large building the size of a small airplane hangar, she tried not to think about what Sy and his pals were discussing just outside the vehicle. She tried not to reflect on the past few days that she had convinced herself would be her last. She tried not to think about what -- or, really, who -- was inside that building.

She thought about seeing Elliott again. The man who had planned to kill her, and almost succeeded. A part of her wished he had, because she wasn't sure she knew who she was anymore. She was a stranger to herself. And living like this seemed so much more difficult than a quick painless death. She couldn't bear the thought of being in view of him.

But another part of her wanted to go in there and end his life herself. That part of her could pull the trigger on a gun aimed at his head. That part of her could bury a knife in his kidney, or sever an artery. Her anatomy and physiology courses could serve her well here. She had dangerous knowledge. Maybe that's why doctors often seem so full of themselves. They possess the knowledge to end life, and yet they choose to save it. It sort of puts things into perspective. Maybe they're justified in their hubris.

Still one more part simply wanted to go home, clean up, and lay naked in her soft sheets with Sy wrapped around her. Warmer and more comforting than any blanket had ever been. She had remembered missing him so much. She thought now about his gentle, loving hands on her, his mouth tasting her so delicately, his…

But then her mind was ripped from the sensual thoughts of Sy and back to her horrific memories from that cellar. The hands of strangers, rough and hateful, their mouths full of words like bile or the grunts of their own violent fulfillment.

Her nightmare of a daydream was abruptly interrupted by the opening of the back passenger door. She jumped, and looked at the source of the noise with wide-eyed terror. It was only Sy, but she couldn't school her face into a softer expression, even after realizing she was safe.

"Oh, Sunshine, I'm so sorry I startled ya! You okay?"

She said nothing, just let out her held breath woefully.

"Let's head home. I'll get your purse and bag of clothes here."

"I don't want those clothes. Throw them away. And these shoes are going in the trash as soon as possible, too."

"Okay. I'll toss it. You sure?"

"I never want to see that bag again. I'm positive."

He nodded, grabbed her purse, and went around to help her out of the vehicle.

One of Sy's friends approached them from the building.

"You guys okay? You'll make it home alright?"

"Yeah, Matt, we'll be okay. I'll be in touch soon about next steps."

"You got it, Captain. Anything you need, let us know."

"Will do. Thanks for everything you've already done. I owe ya."

"You don't owe me a thing, brother. You don't owe any of us. Not after everything you've done for all of us…for everyone."

Sy just nodded at Matt, and turned toward his truck, steadying Shane all the way to the passenger door.

The drive to Shane's house was quiet. Sy kept one hand on the wheel, holding hers in the other. She felt safe, but she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling inside her. Like the other shoe would soon drop, and her love would be taken away again.

When they were safely parked in her driveway, Sy took her keys out of his pocket, apparently having gotten them from his friend who'd drove her car from Elliott's to the airplane hangar place. He walked around to get her, and helped her to her door. She kicked off her shoes immediately when she stepped inside her shadowy living room. She had left the same lamp on that she always did, but it was dimmer now, having been on almost a whole week.

"Bath?" Sy asked. Shane nodded slowly. She would need a long soak to erase this feeling.

Sy got the bath water ready while she found some clothes to put on after. She laid her comfiest lounge pants and her favorite sweat shirt on the bed and walked toward the bathroom. She was soon hit with the comforting aroma of lavender, chamomile, and vanilla as soon as she stepped through the doorway. He had used her favorite bubble bath and salts.

"Check that water temp. I think it's about right." he requested. It was perfect. She started to peel off the stiff paper scrubs she was still wearing, but he insisted on helping her. As she stood before him, even though he'd seen every inch of her body before, she felt more naked and exposed than ever. She looked at him, noticed tears welling in his eyes, and dropped her gaze to the bath mat under her feet. Her skin, typically immaculately clear, olive perfection, was now peppered with dozens of bruises. She felt like a dalmatian, covered in spots. She chuckled inside herself at the thought of one of her favorite Disney films featuring the breed most heavily.

Sy's strong, but gentle hands landed softly on her upper arms. His lips lit tenderly on her forehead. "Ready?" he asked. She nodded and stepped into the large, garden tub full of steaming water. It stung her feet, ankles, and calves, but she still bent to sit, wincing as her tender petals and behind met the medicinal broth. Sy held her hand as she stepped in and guided her down. She closed her eyes at the soothing pain of the hot water and did not open them until she felt the water level rise. Sy had stepped in with her, wearing just his boxer-briefs, and was sitting on the side of the tub. He reached for the hand shower, and turned the water back on, slightly less warm, but still soothing and soaked her hair, directing the water away from her face. He had thought to grab her shampoo from the shower, as well, and was lathering some up in his hands to apply to her wet strands. It felt like heaven to have his fingers in her hair like this. Relaxing and soporific. He kept at it until she was certain he must be getting pruney, not to mention tired.

After carefully rinsing her hair of the coconut-scented lather, he grabbed the lavender foam bath she loved, and worked it up in one of the wash cloths he'd brought from the linen caddy between the sink and shower. He massaged the suds into her tired and injured skin over her back, then requested each leg in turn, kneading her calves and feet as she took another of the cloths and washed her face with the rich cleanser she kept by the bath, typically using it only on her "spa days" but feeling that it would nourish her battered cheeks and nose better than anything else. Sy's ministrations filled her with a kind of blissful contentment. She couldn't help but wonder if she deserved him. She always had thought she deserved the best things in life, even though her romantic past didn't tend to pan out that way. She'd worked very hard and often allowed herself to invest in quality. But now…she felt broken, in spite of herself. She'd have to tell Sy all that happened to her one day, and when that day came, he'd probably realize how damaged she really was, and he'd leave. Just like everyone else always did. She knew the conversation needed to come sooner rather than later, but couldn't bring herself to break the spell yet.

Sy let her soak for as long as she was comfortable until the water grew tepid. She looked up to him, sitting on the side of the tub, legs now outside, his gaze like twin seas met hers. He had been watching her, it seemed. As if worried that she would dematerialize if he looked away. Her bath robe was draped across his lap, as was a large bath towel. She moved to stand from the now chilled bath water, and Sy was immediately up to aid her rising. He held her hand as she stepped out of the tub and dried her top half before helping her don the robe, then continued to dry her bottom half.

"Go on in there and get comfortable, Sunshine. I have a few phone calls to make. I wanna let your folks know you're okay and I wanna tell Detective Clarkson you've been found. Anyone else you want me to get in touch with?"

"Umm, do you know if my brother and sister know what's happened to me?"

"They do. They should both be at your parent's house by now from what I gathered when I visited."

"Okay, so mom or dad will let them know. I guess you should call Susan, and let her know that I'm alive but won't be in this week. On my fridge, there's a phone directory for everyone in my department. But first, call Heather. I don't want her to worry any longer. Call her right after mom and dad. And tell them all I'll have them over tomorrow, but I can't tonight. I'm…"

She didn't even know what she was. Tired, sore, depressed, hopeless, and angry. A combination of so many feelings and emotions coursed through her.

"I'll work it out. You get in bed, and I'll be back in when I'm done with these calls, okay?" she nodded. He continued, "I love you, darlin.'" and wrapped his arms around her, making her feel almost whole again.

"I love you." she replied. Holding back tears until he had left the room.

~~~~~~

Shane realized she hadn't brushed her teeth in…far too long. She donned her sleeping clothes and went into the bathroom again to complete a comprehensive oral hygiene routine. Sy had been gone for about a half hour, during which time, his absence felt like a noose around her neck. Or an anvil on her chest. It made it feel like hours had passed rather than mere minutes. She was fidgety. When he finally re-entered, she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Do you need anything, sweet pea?"

"Just you."

Sy crawled under the covers with Shane to spoon her, arm laying over her rib cage. She winced, as the bruises on her torso were disturbed at the contact, but she didn't ask him to adjust. Despite the dull pain, this was what she needed. Sy's protecting arm around her.

"Did you get a hold of everyone?" She asked, sleepily.

"I did. Your family are eager to see you, but they understand your need for rest. Heather says that you better let her come over soon, because she's holding your phone hostage until you pay her in hugs. They all send their love."

"And Susan?"

"Yeah, that woman is a piece of work, I know, but I think she's going to come through for you. She's going to have them hold off on scheduling patients with you until you're better, and put both weeks in as vacation. She said you have plenty of it. But also, if you need more time, she can work out some…family medical leave…thing? She said she'd get the ball rolling on that, and will let you know what you need to do on your end."

"Oh, good. Yeah, she can be an asshole, but sometimes she does right by her employees. What about the detective?"

Sy paused there. "I, uh, I talked to him for quite a while and he said a lot of things. Let's go over the finer points tomorrow at breakfast. Or, rather, today." He said, looking at the blue numbers on the glowing digital clock on Shane's nightstand that indicated the wee hours of the morning were running out. "I'm sure we're both tired enough to grab a few winks, ain't we?" He asked, and she hummed her ascent as she tucked herself closer to his warm, monolithic chest.

As Shane drifted off, she thought she felt a warm kiss, and a whisper at her temple. It sounded like a tearful prayer. She was too far into her sleep to comprehend the words being said.

"Thank you God," Sy whispered. "I know I'm not your most faithful servant, but I am truly grateful that you've kept this treasure of mine alive and brought her back to me. Thank you for reuniting me with the woman I mean to spend the rest of my days with, if she'll agree to it. Thank you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About Thirty Minutes Ago-

Sy left the bedroom and began scrolling through his phone for the Benton's number. He pressed the call button with joy.

"Sy?" John answered frantically, just as he did the first time Sy spoke to him.

"John, is everyone there?"

"Yeah, we're all just watching a movie in the family room. Do you have news?"

"I do. You may want to put me on speaker, because everybody's going to want to hear this."

"Okay." and after a brief struggle with the speaker button and help from two younger people Sy presumed were Ethan and Gabby, John was back with the whole family. "Okay, Sy, we can all hear you. What's the word?"

"Oh, it's a very good word, guys. I found Shane and she is alive, and now safe." Cheering from what sounded like a stadium full of fanatics resounded from the ear piece of his cell phone.

"Sy, this is Gabby, Shane's sister. Can we come see her now?" Gabby's tears were evident in her voice. He wished he could tell them yes. But Shane needed her rest.

"I know she would love to see you, Gabby, she'd love to see all of you, but I think what she needs right now is rest. She's been through…a terrible ordeal. I took her to the Emergency Room to get checked out, and she just had a bath and is about to go to bed. She'll want to see you all tomorrow, though. Maybe around lunch time?"

"That sounds good, Sy. We'll bring some of this food over." John said.

"Are you sure we can't come over tonight? I…I want to see my daughter with my own eyes." Margaret said, weepily.

"I truly wish I could tell you yes, Peg, but she's hardly slept the last week, and just had her first full meal since she was taken this evening at the hospital. I really think it's best for everyone if you guys wait until tomorrow when she's more herself and rested." Sy reiterated.

"What about the people who did this to her?" a male voice he didn't recognize asked, assured to be Ethan. "Any leads on them?" He wanted to tell them that most of the men had been dealt with using lethal or nearly lethal force, and that the perpetrator of Shane's misery was locked up in Matt's shop bathroom until they decided just how to take care of him. But he needed to disclose what he knew to as few people as possible.

"The less y'all know, the better. For your own good. At least right now. Just know that whatever justice has not yet been served, it will be very soon."

"That's good enough for me." John offered, in an apparent attempt to bring Ethan on side.

"Thanks, John. I'll take care of her tonight. I won't leave her side. I promise."

"Thank you, son." John replied. Sy appreciated the tender address, but wondered how Ethan felt about his father referring to someone else as his son. Probably not that great. He couldn't worry about that now.

"It's my sincerest pleasure. I want you to know that. She's my world now. I won't let anything else happen to her."

"We know, dear." Peg added.

"Good night. And we'll see y'all tomorrow."

Four incoherent replies rang out before he ended the call. Next was Heather.

"Hello?" she answered in sleepy confusion.

"Heather?"

"Who'sis?"

"It's Logan Syverson. Sy? From PT. Shane's boyfriend."

"Sy! Oh, it's good to hear from you! Any news?"

"The best news, darlin.' Our girl is alive, and home safe." he smiled ear to ear saying the words, but it quickly turned into a wince when Heather shouted for joy in his ear. It was fine. Not like he didn't already have mild tinnitus.

"Oh my GOD! I'm coming over right now!"

"No, Heather, she's resting. She told me she'll see people tomorrow, but I don't think anyone but you and her family should be allowed in right now. She's…well, she's been through seven levels of Hell, and when I look into her eyes, I can still see the fire."

"Shit. Anything I can do?"

"She'll be thrilled to see ya. But tomorrow."

"She better. I have her phone and the ransom is a thousand hugs."

"That's a steep debt." Sy chuckled.

"She can owe me for a while." Heather laughed. "Is she okay?"

What a loaded question. Physically, she was injured, but would heal. Emotionally, that would be more of a journey.

"Honestly, Heather? Not really. The physical stuff is more or less superficial, but…I'm worried about her mental state."

"Poor thing. Please let me know if I can do anything. Anything at all. She's like a sister to me."

"I will. For now, keep the news and the details quiet. I'm gonna call Susan next, and I don't think she'll like it if you know before she does. Just a hunch."

"An accurate one. She'd be furious. I'll keep mum. Thanks so much for putting my mind at ease, Sy. Take care of her."

"I'll do my best. See ya."

He was dreading talking to Susan the most. More than Clarkson. He couldn't quite pinpoint why, but she'd really pissed him off every other time he'd talked to her, and he really didn't think too much of her.

"Hello, this is Susan."

"Hey, Susan, it's Logan Syverson. Shane's boyfriend." He made sure to put the label in there. Remind her that her policy had not been enough to keep them apart.

"Mr. Syverson. Hello. What can I do for you?" her haughty tone was softened a measure with concern for her employee. Even though she didn't ask about her in so many words, he knew that she was wondering.

"Nothing. I just wanted to let ya know, Shane's okay. She's been hurt, and won't be in this coming week, at least. She's in some pain right now, of both a physical and emotional nature."

"What happened?"

"She, uh, hasn't given me a lot of details." Not a lie. "She just escaped from her captor and we found each other." Misleading, but mostly true. "We just got home from the ER." Perhaps a lie by omission of the stop off at Matt's. "They said she'd be okay, but to follow up with her primary for more tests."

"Okay, I'll make sure her schedule is cleared. She has plenty of PTO for these two weeks, but I'll call the FMLA office in charge of family medical leave and short term disability and let them know she'll need some more time off, and see if we can get that going. I'll get with her about the details, and what she'll need to do. I'll text her sometime this week. How's she doing?" Sy thought he heard genuine concern from this dragon woman.

"About as well as someone who's been kidnapped, tortured, and assaulted for a straight week can possibly be, I'd say." Sy's words were civil, but tinged with venom. Even though she was being decent right now, he knew the kind of person she could be.

"Dear God." Susan gasped, shocked at the statement, and Sy wasn't sure whether it was due to the events themselves, or the blunt way he'd told her about them. "Well, I'll do anything I can to help her though this on my end. She's one of my best. I can't…I really don't think I could replace her."

"I'm glad you don't have to try, Susan. Have a nice evenin.'"

"Thanks, Sy, you too."

Sy took a deep breath as he pulled up Clarkson's number and called him. He honestly wasn't completely certain how he was going to explain things, but he'd figure it out. He was good at flyin' by the seat of his pants.

A gruff voice came from the ear piece. "Clarkson."

"Detective, this is Captain Syverson. We spoke about the Benton case a few days ago?"

"I remember you, Sy. What's up?"

"Oh, uh, well, wanted to tell ya you could close the case. I found her." It was the coming conversation in which he would really have to bend the truth or lie altogether.

"Really?! Oh, that's great, man. Where'd ya find 'er."

"I's drivin' 'round, hopin' to come across some lead or sign of her. I was a few miles down highway 100 when I saw a slumped form in one of the ditches. I pulled off at the next drive and went back to check, and it was her. She was hurt, but once she recognized me…I dunno, everything's kind of a blur after that. But I got her checked out at the ER, and brought her home now." Most of that statement was false…but not the recount of them seeing each other for the first time. That was a very real and true fact.

"Highway 100?"

"That's right. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I heard about a terrible, two-vehicle accident on Highway D tonight. No survivors."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." He wasn't. "I hope there weren't any kids involved." He knew there weren't.

"Nope. All adult males, aged 30-40. Couple of SUVs. One ran off the road, and another…well, it's almost like it was blown up on purpose. Happened just a few miles from town."

"That sounds horrible, but what does an accident on Highway E--"

"It was D. Highway D." Sy knew it was, and had said the wrong thing on purpose.

"My mistake. My question though, is what does that…tragedy have to do with my finding Shane on Highway 100?"

"That's what I'm wondering, myself, Syverson. See, there was some…evidence that suggests military involvement in this incident."

"Well, I'm retired."

"Are you though? Is anyone ever really retired from the armed forces. No veteran I've ever talked to can seem to shake off the war shackles."

"Well, I ain't shackeled, detective. I'm proud of my time serving my country, but I got no cause to relive it or hang on to it. Especially now that I have Shane. She's my life now. That part of it’s over."

"I guess I have to take you at your word, captain. Got no evidence so far that ties you to the scene. Just…be careful. If you do anything retaliatory to Miss Benton's captor or captors, I won't be able to protect you, no matter how I feel about your actions. Or how justified they might be."

"Understood. I will keep that in mind should I decide to take matters into my own hands." he tried not to let the smile on his face show in his voice.

"Right, well…is she okay?"

"I, uh…I think she will be…eventually. She hasn't said much to me about what happened, but I know it was torture, or akin to it. "

"Well, I hope she recovers quickly. I'll want a statement from her before I close the case."

"Sure thing. As soon as she's ready to talk."

"Great. Thanks for the call, Sy. I'm glad she's safe now. That's all that matters, really."

"Agree. Have a good night, Clarkson."

He ended the call and rubbed his face as head in frustration with his free hand. They'd have to come up with a story. A good one. Close enough to the truth that Shane could feel comfortable telling it, but far enough of a departure that they weren't incriminated in any kidnapping, murder, or manslaughter charges.

But for tonight, they’d rest. And just be glad to be together again.

Up Next: Chapter 20-Second Assist

#Sand Castle #netflix sand castle #captain syverson #Captain Syverson x OFC #sigh for sy #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x ofc

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boltwrites · 4 years

Text

Unwinding

Fandom: The Legend of Korra Pairing: Bolin / Reader (AFAB, gender neutral) Rating: E Tags: Tender, Baths

Anon Requested: Hi, I was wondering if I could make another Bolin x reader, I really like yours. This is my idea: a relaxing bath together with lots of bubbles. A soft prn with cuddles but also spicy moments.

A/N: The urge to write this one literally hit me at midnight last night. I love sweet, gentle lovin with this boy. He takes good care of reader in this one 😉. Also tumblr PLEASE put this in the tags and let it stay there I am begging.

By clicking read more you verify that you are at least 18 years old

You stumbled through the door to your apartment, so tired that you leaned heavily against the wall as you threw off your shoes. You sighed at the relief, unclasping the ties of your restricting outer tunic.

Work at the factory was always difficult, but today was particularly exhausting. It was a Friday, the last day of your work week, and that meant you had spent the last four days working your ass off, on your feet everyday as your shift leader demanded you produce as much product as possible. The stress really took its toll after a while, and you were so bone tired.

The sound of tiny feet clacking against wood drew you out of your reverie, and Pabu bounded down the hall. He nuzzled at your leg, sitting back on his hind legs to chitter at you. Your face softened, leaning heavily against the wall as you smiled at the fire ferret.

“Hey, Pabu,” you greeted, and Pabu chittered at you again before scampering down the hall. You sighed, brushing your hair out of your face and groaning as you pressed into a standing position again.

“Y/n!” Bolin called, Pabu leading the way as he exited your bedroom to greet you. Your eyes widened in shock and you grinned, so happy to see your boyfriend.

“Hey,” you replied, and he greeted you with a sweet cheek kiss. “I didn’t expect you home so early.”

Bolin was back at it with pro bending, and as such, he usually stayed out late, especially on Friday nights, since he always had a late match.

“Our opponents decided to forfeit. Which was a little lame, I will admit, but it was worth it, because now I get to see you,” he smiled at you, so full of joy at being able to spend the night with you. You blushed, embarrassed at the attention. You had been dating for a while at this point, but Bolin’s blatant, unabashed compliments still caught you off guard.

“It’s nice to see you too,” you replied, offering him your own small smile. He returned it fully, until he paused to look you up and down, his face falling as he saw how bedraggled you looked.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, looking concerned. You shook your head at him. He didn’t see you so run down often – by the time he got home, you had usually taken a shower and settled in, and looked decidedly less beat down.

“I’m fine, really, just tired. This week was a bit of a nightmare,” you admitted, shrugging. “We’ve been working so hard to meet our deadline, and it takes a toll sometimes. But it’ll be OK! I just need a shower, is all.”

Bolin frowned at you, scrutinizing your face and then the rest of your tired appearance. You could almost see the lightbulb turn on in his mind. He pointed at you, his eyebrows raising as his plan formed, and you took a deep breath, readying yourself for your boyfriend’s brilliant idea.

“I know! You need a nice bubble bath!”

Your eyebrows rose, and you contemplated the idea. Considering Bolin’s track record with plans, this one was… surprisingly good. The more you thought about it, the better it sounded. A nice warm bath would soothe your aching legs, and you could relax for as long as you wanted. The only thing that could make that better was –

“Will you be joining me?” you asked, lip quirked into a half smile. Bolin froze, shocked that you would suggest such a thing. Only your boyfriend would think up such an intimate activity and then only bestow it upon his partner, not even thinking about enjoying himself as well. It made you soft, how selfless he was.

“I- yeah! That would- yeah!” Bolin agreed, and you chuckled at his stumbling. You let your eyelids fall half shut. You really were tired, and you leaned heavily on him, wrapping an arm around his waist and resting your head against his shoulder.

“Lead the way, then,” you commanded, and Bolin did, wrapping a strong arm around your waist and guiding you to the bathroom.

You sat on the ledge of the tub, leaning against the wall, as Bolin stopped the tub and heated the water, running his fingers under the tap until it met his requirements and he nodded to himself. He uncorked a bottle of scented body wash and poured it into the bath, the bubbles frothing as the tub filled with water and the bathroom filled with the scent.

Bolin eased out of his tunic, then offered his hand to you after the clothing fell in a heap on the floor. You accepted it and he hoisted you to your feet easily, getting to work at your own outer tunic, letting it fall to the floor in the same amount of disarray.

You worked your fingers under your undershirt, peeling it off your body and over your head. Bolin smiled at you, mirroring your movements on his own body. Once his undershirt was removed you hummed, pressing your chest to his and wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Y/n, we’re not done!” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. You made a noncommittal noise, only pulling him closer as his fingers traced the waistband of your pants.

In absence of you pulling away, Bolin took matters into his own hands, undoing your pants himself, then threading his thumbs around the waistband of both those and your underwear, inching them down your hips. You nuzzled in closer against his neck, offering him a soft kiss there once the last of your clothing hit the ground.

You decided to at least return the favor, your fingers stumbling a bit as you worked open Bolin’s own pants. You were tired, and after a long day of working with your hands, your fingers weren’t functioning as well as they could have been. After you undid his pants, Bolin shimmied the rest of the way out himself, pressing you close to him immediately afterwards. You replied with a pleased hum, wrapping your arms around his waist and squeezing.

“Wow, you really are tired, aren’t you?” he asked, with the ghost of a laugh, as he pressed kisses to your forehead, over your temple, and along your cheekbones. You giggled at his attention, tilting your chin for a proper kiss, which he readily gave, in the form of a soft and gentle peck.

“Maybe you’re just very comfortable,” you countered, tracing along the curve of his back, his skin soft and warm under the pads of your fingers.

“That’s true too,” he agreed, and you chuckled, the sound muffled against his collarbone. “C’mon, the tub’s almost full.”

He pulled away from you, only to turn the tap off. The tub in your apartment wasn’t the largest, but you could both fit if you sat with your back pressed to Bolin’s chest. He held out a hand to you, ready to help you into the tub, since your legs were clearly tired and wobbly.

You accepted his hand, sliding into the tub slowly and then pressing yourself forward so Bolin could slide in after you. His weight displaced the water around you, the bath splashing much more forcefully as he settled behind you. Once he was seated, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush to his chest.

It felt so nice – the bath was just the right temperature, and his chest was solid against your back. His arms cradled you loosely, and you knew you were safe and loved in them.

Bolin’d hands met your own, twining your fingers with his as he wrapped you up close. You sighed, your head falling against his shoulder easily, letting yourself relax completely in his arms. He kissed your shoulder, squeezing your hands.

“Feel good?” he asked, pressing another kiss to your collar. You nodded, your eyes closing as you sank into the comfort of his touch, the calming water of the bath. His kisses continued to your neck, and you tilted your head for him, letting him press slow, deep kisses to your pulse point. Your breath hitched, but you relaxed into his affections, letting him kiss up to your jaw, mouth along your ear.

“Want to feel even better?” he whispered, his lips just gracing the shell of your ear. You shivered, your thighs pressed close together. Bolin wasn’t usually one to make the first move when it came to love making, so the question excited you all the more as he nuzzled his nose behind your ear.

“Yes,” you breathed, squeezing his hands. He hummed soft, pressing his face to your neck, gently removing his fingers from yours. His touch slid from your hands to your thighs, his callouses dragging against your sensitive skin as he caressed your hips, your waist. You breath hitched as his hands dipped lower, your thighs twitching as he edged them apart – slow, gentle, just like he was.

Your head knocked against his shoulder as his fingers traced small circles against the insides of your legs, at the juncture of your thigh and groin. You moaned soft at the tease – his fingers felt so nice against your tired skin, but the longer he took, the more you ached for him.

“Bolin, please,” you begged, your hips twitching at his too-close, not-quite-there presence. He breathed warm against your collar, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck.

“Whatever you want,” he promised, and you moaned, your hips twitching harder, willing him to touch you where it mattered.

“Touch me,” you pleaded.

Bolin didn’t make you wait any longer. He slid his fingers along the length of you, until dipping between your folds, searching for only a moment before finding what he was looking for.

You canted your hips against his fingers, rocking them back and forth as he pressed against you. Bolin kissed against your jaw, to your lips, and even though the angle was uncomfortable, you made the effort to tilt your head and meet his lips as he began to trace small circles against you.

You shivered hard when his fingers drew upward, pressing against the most sensitive part of you, your thighs shaking even as he used his free hand to massage the inside of your left leg, slow and sensual. He was deliberate, and delicate, and even though you loved the softness of it all, you desperately thrust your hips against him, willing for more pressure.

“Oh, Bo, please,” you keened, breaking the kiss just to beg. Bolin breathed hard against you, his own eyes half lidded, his hard cock pressing against your back as he worked you over.

He shushed you with more kisses, tightening the circles he pressed against you, adjusting his angle just a fraction until you gasped, shaking against him. He wrapped his free arm around you, pressing you tight to him as he worked you over. He moaned soft, trying not to twitch his hips against you and failing. Feeling how much touching you turned him on made you weak, and you choked on air as he drew you closer and closer to the edge, warmth pooling in your stomach as he drew you closer.

“Oh, Bo, yes-“ you breathed, rocking into his touch. The arm wrapped around you restricted your movements, but that only added another layer to your pleasure, clutching at his arms as you rolled your hips to meet his fingers.

“Good?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer. You nodded, moans falling freely from your lips as he pressed against you a little harder, a little faster. You choked on a gasp, your hips stuttering.

“Bo-!“ you cried out as you fell over the edge, waved of sweet pleasure cresting over you as Bolin worked you through the feeling. You twitched in his arms, feeling the tension drain from your body as the pleasure washed over you like the warm water of the bath.

Bolin only ceased his ministrations when you flinched away from him, oversensitive. Instead, he wrapped his other arm around you, surrounding you in his strong embrace. You panted against his collar, soft and warm and sated.

“Feel better?” he asked, kissing soft against your temple. You nodded, pressing your face to his neck. He was so sweet, so good to you, and you cherished him like nothing else.

#bolin x reader #bolin x you #lok bolin #bolin #mine

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lemonsandstrawberries · 3 years

Text

Hashtag: RelationshipGoals

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony)

summary: Steve is being forced into getting a Twitter accounts and logs into Tony’s for inspiration - one mistake later, he finds more than he asked for. Meaning, his boyfriend has a tickle kink and Steve has a lot of thinking to do.

length: 5 468

a/n: Happy Friday 13th! *throws confetti* To celebrate I am posting a fic that contains one of the biggest fears for people with tickle kink - someone finding out when you are not ready to tell them. It has a happy ending, promise! Hope you all will enjoy this fic, feedback, reblogs and likes are appreciated and needed! fic inspired by this prompt.

—————

Hashtag: RelationshipGoals

Long story short - Steve was getting a Twitter account.

Long story long...

It all started with a certain PR meeting held for the Avengers team, just this time, it was Steve vs the whole PR team. The problem was simple - Steve didn't like social media and didn't have an account on any of the numerous websites and apps. Fighting with aliens, planning new missions, schooling SHIELD agents - those were the zones he felt comfortable in. Some thought that the hidden reason behind the hostility towards social media was, that Steve, born in the 1920s, had a problem with using modern technology. Some called it endearing, some pathetic, the truth was, that Steve fairly quickly mastered each piece of technology he was given, skillfully using any given device. After all, he wasn't dense. Many apps were quite useful, some just plain entertaining, and it required a lot of navigating, but he managed to find some favorites. Just when it came to social media… Steve didn't feel like sharing his private life with unknown faces. Call him old-fashioned, but he liked having direct contact with people and as much as he liked to take a stop during his random walks in the city to talk with people who called themselves his fans, it quickly became too overwhelming. He wasn't good at such things and always thought he was too awkward and not what people expected. Steve didn't like that kind of pressure and didn't like the almost weekly notices from the PR team that he needed to make himself more 'accessible'. By no means, he was expected to stop and talk to everyone who ever called him or share mission details with strangers, but he needed to create a more public persona for Captain America and Steve Rogers.

Hence, Steve was encouraged to take a plunge into the world of social media.

And he really, really, really didn't want to do that.

One - it was pretty tedious to keep up with everything. Tony eagerly showed him all social accounts he had - Twitter, Instagram, Facebook profile, Youtube, and it all just gave him a headache as Tony chattered which media was good for what and gladly showed him his own Instagram page (mostly workshop photos and meals Steve had prepared for him, which was kinda sweet) and if Steve became slightly interested in that, his interest dropped after hearing about filters and tags. Too much work.

Second - he didn't have time to keep his theoretical accounts active and post new content regularly. Or more, he didn't want to make time, preferring to spend it on reading or training or hanging out with Tony or anything else, really. He had been gently suggested, that some celebrities (Steve's eyes widened a little after hearing that - was he a celebrity?) hire someone else to run their social media accounts. Steve shook his head at the proposition, knowing that none of his teammates did that and so he shouldn't either, not mentioning that everything posted wouldn't be sincere.

Third - Steve considered himself not an interesting person. He didn't have Tony's charisma, who, of course, had the biggest social media following ever, Thor's flair, which made his Youtube channel where he tasted food sent to him from all over the world by his viewers a huge success or Clint's humor, whose Internet activity limited to commenting on funny animal photos and home videos and people loved him. Even Bruce, seemingly even more awkward and distant when it came to dealing with a privacy-invading crowd, was doing great, kindling the interest of young kids in science with a series of easy to repeat experiments at home and railing about the importance of protecting and preserving the environment. Even Natasha didn't have a problem, her social media accounts full of useful self-defense tips for everyone who needed to feel safer. Steve just couldn't find anything in himself he would like to share with the world. He liked to keep his art private, his relationship private, and his whole life private.

It should be the ending statement.

It wasn't.

And so Steve, feeling scolded, got back to his and Tony's shared floor, planning to hide, except that he was assigned a very simple task for the week.

Get a Twitter account.

Steve sat heavily on the couch, putting elbows on his knees and palms around his cheeks, definitely not pouting. Why on Earth did he need a Twitter account? Wasn't it enough that from time to time he appeared on Tony's account, being the supportive boyfriend, and allowing Tony share the photos of their date nights or even the short movies from Steve's training when Tony was proudly showing off Steve's impressive physique and using those damn filters and making small stars and glitter swirl around him.

Speaking of Tony, he could use his boyfriend's advice... Steve checked his phone and knew that Tony was still stuck in a business meeting, and won't be back for an hour or so and as much as he wanted to not think about the Twitter issue it kept coming back to him. What was he supposed to write on Twitter? Something that wouldn't give too much about him, but would be safe and entertaining. He needed inspiration. Maybe a walk would clear his mind but as Steve was getting up, he noticed Tony's tablet laying at the edge of the coffee table.

Well... Tony wouldn't mind if he took a peak, right? Granted, he never used Tony's tablet before without his boyfriend’s permission. It felt too personal and barging on privacy and it was almost a silent agreement between them that Steve won't touch Tony's electronic devices and Tony won't look through Steve's sketchbooks without prior agreement. But it was different, right? Tony's Twitter account was out there, for everyone, so it didn't matter if Steve would install the app on his phone and check the account, or go to the source and look through Tony's account. It might even help him to understand better how the app was working.

Steve took the tablet and unlocked it, searching for the Twitter app. Letter T on a blue background. Steve pressed it and skimmed over the screen, looking at the design of the app. Huh, it looked very different from the account owner's point of view. He scrolled down the screen, seeing a lot of text, too much text because wasn't there a limit of signs per tweet? Further, into the app, Steve saw more of things he didn't recognize, didn't see any posts from other Avengers, instead of images and gifs and -

"Woah," Steve gaped, taking in what he was seeing. He quickly scrolled up, his face becoming heated, unsure what he just saw. For a minute, he turned the tablet in his hands, trying to decide if it really belonged to Tony and not someone else, but who else would have a hot red and gold cover, resembling the design of the Iron Man suit. It had to be Tony's tablet, which meant...

Those posts were Tony's. That account was Tony's. Tony had two Twitter accounts? Steve looked back, just now noticing that it wasn't Twitter after all. At the top of the screen on a background of dark blue in white letters was written Tumblr. Steve didn't hear of the app, it wasn't listed as one of the most popular ones for celebrities and that's probably why Tony used it for -

Steve wasn't exactly sure for what. For something secretive. Something he wanted to hide. Things he didn't admit even to Steve.

Cautiously, Steve scrolled down again, trying to keep an open mind and be more cautious. He wasn't a prude, he knew that people had different kinks and it was completely normal. Heck, he and Tony had a very healthy sex and intimate life and the sight of Tony tied down for their playtime always made Steve's blood boil with lust and desire and they did indulge in some kinks, Steve current favorite one included spanking Tony's bouncy ass and watch it jiggle and the skin turn red. Tony had no problems with sharing his kinky fantasies and Steve was always willing to give it a go, sometimes proposing things on his own, like wax play, which wasn't only sexy but also artistic - Tony's body colored with drips of different colored wax was a beautiful sight. This... This was something different, Steve didn't think to consider.

There were pictures, that without context seemed innocent, like an array of feathers on a pillow. Some were less subtle and showed a part of sucked in stomach, escaping from a coming closer feather duster. The gifs were the most intriguing - a tied up, blindfolded man, laughing and squirming, while a different man was...

Tickling him?

Steve's brow furrowed as he watched the gif, frame by frame. There was no doubt that it was tickling, fingers gliding over tied man's armpits and sides. Steve expected this to be a prelude, something more to follow, but it was all. Tickling was the main point. Steve blushed when he realized that if there were gifs, there had to be a video and who knew how long it was. How many minutes would it take to bring someone to the brink of hysterics, to make them crumble, but at the same time make it pleasurable? People were not forced into filming porn and following that principle, there were not forced into filming tickle kink videos.

And that being said...

"Huh..." Steve mused out, bits of information falling into one picture. They never discussed it, but in the back of his head, Steve had this thought that Tony enjoyed being tickled, or at least didn't mind terribly. The way he squirmed between Steve's tickling hands but didn't try to run away. How he laughed and screamed for mercy whenever Steve targeted a sensitive spot and always seemed a bit disappointed when the tickling ended but masked it with a smile and complaints of being assaulted. Sometimes, Steve just felt provoked into tickling his boyfriend, like that one time, Tony had taken his sketchbook and hid away, refusing to say where he hid it and Steve had to tickle the information out of him until Tony was absolutely incoherent from laughter and breathless.

That was cute. All those shared tickle moments were cute, but Steve never thought that they could be... hot. And intimate. He looked back at the gif, at the way the tickled man arched and bucked, but was not able to escape the ticklish strokes delivered over his skin. What if Tony was the one tied and spread in the chair and Steve was the one standing behind, dotting his fingertips over the bare torso, having that sense of power and control, enjoying the ticklish tremble of the bothered skin. It became a tempting image in his head.

'Guuuuys, I don't know what to do.'

Steve's eyes caught on some text among the images and gifs. A separate post.

'I still can't tell my bf that I like being tickled. I just can't! There is this block in my head -'

Steve read the text, feeling that he might know the author.

'I even did that thing you recommended with hiding his stuff away -'

Definitely knew the author. At the top of the post, he saw a name, probably the username and clicked on it. Blue background color, and image of feathers and the username in white bold font. The Spare Parts Man.

That was one major hint...

Steve scrolled down this page, seeing more text and images of people being tickled, some like, a gif that was of a zoomed in stomach, the belly button tickled by a tip of the feather, signed with a 'omg, goals', whatever that meant. Steve tried to search for the text he saw on the previous page, but couldn't find it anymore, instead saw more posts, where people seemed to be interacting with the author.

'Hi, SP! I was the one who sent you the asks with hiding your BF's stuff -'

'I am sure your BF will understand, from what you said, you are dating for a long time -'

'You still didn't tell him??? What are you waiting for, GO GO GO!'

Steve pursed his lips together, feeling upset that Tony was so willing to share with strangers, but not with him. This whole site seemed so secretive, and while Steve felt a bit betrayed, he started to think about things from Tony's perspective. Tickling wasn't a mainstream kink. Bondage, spanking, food play - all the things they had tried seemed to be more acceptable in the sex world while tickling... Some people enjoyed it, some hated it. Steve was somewhere in between. It could be a fun thing among loved ones, but could quickly become overwhelming and unbearable. Steve didn't think about it earlier, but he really liked tickling Tony. He loved the way his body twitched, the sound of his laughter, and the feeling of closeness and trust in the action. For Steve it was fun. For Tony, it had to run much deeper, forming stronger connections than it did for Steve.

'I don't want to lose him. What if he thinks I am a freak?'

No, Steve would never think that. Tony was the great love of his life and Steve accepted him on every level.

"Oh, babe..." Steve sighed softly, reading more posts, some screaming nervousness as Tony was pouring his heart out, feeling miserable with his inability to tell Steve the truth, some so heartwarming and oozing happiness when Tony was describing Steve's last tickle attacks and how incredibly good and completed it made Tony feel.

That. Steve wanted to make Tony feel like that every day. Satiated and fulfilled and safe.

No more secrets.

Carried on the moment, Steve pressed on an icon with a pencil and began to write.

***

Tony was bored. So, so bored. He caught a glimpse of Pepper sending him a scolding look and straightened up in his seat, pretending to pay attention. He just wanted to go back home and curl up next to Steve, feeling Steve's fingers stroking his hair and maybe, if he got lucky, Steve would rub his belly, using just enough pressure to make him smile and feel like melting. He started to smile at the thought and Pepper sent him a confused look. Uh oh. He better control himself. Tony grinned sheepishly at Pepper and set his face in a schooled, thoughtful look, trying to focus his attention on the meeting. Just half an hour more... It was all ending statements, so it was nothing bad if he decided to check his social media, right? Cautiously, Tony took out his phone and unlocked the screen, keeping the phone under the table. A new tasting video from Thor, with a package of sweets sent from the Netherlands. Tony made a mental note to drop later to Thor's floor and ask if he had any stroopwafels left to share because they were amazing with black coffee. Clint commenting on funny cats videos, Tony added it to his watch later list. As usual, his own social media were bursting with notifications, people raving over Iron Man and asking for more videos of Steve training routine, which, Tony couldn't blame them, the sight of his boyfriend working out was heaven. He even decided to check his Tumblr, curious if anyone sent him some more tips or maybe just left him a nice message -

Oh, that was weird. Usually, he had maybe two or three messages, some reblogs, and a few comments. This time, his app was bursting with notifications and Tony didn't post anything that could cause such a commotion in the last days.

'WHAT. WHAT????"

'Nooooooo... Please don't break up with him! He loves you so much!'

"The hell, dude! You invaded your bf's privacy like that?? You're the worst!"

Tony didn't understand anything. Maybe he clicked and shared something by accident. There was a slight possibility that his account was hacked. Maybe -

Maybe it was way, way worse.

There was a new text post on his main, one he didn't write.

'Hi, this is Spare Part Man's boyfriend. I found this account by accident and me and my boyfriend have a lot to talk about once I see him.'

No. No, no, no.

"Tony? Tony, are you okay?!"

Tony didn't realize he started to hyperventilate until Pepper's voice brought him back. Everyone was staring at him and Tony felt like vomiting.

"I am fine," Tony said, not meaning it, his voice coming out squeaky. "Can we - excuse me, I have to go," Tony rambled out, sending a sorry look in Pepper's direction and trying to walk out of the conference room as calmly as possible. It felt like the whole world was spinning around him, making him feel nauseous. Tony stumbled to the window and pressed his face against the cool glass, trying to soothe his heated skin and get his thoughts back in order.

It wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this. Maybe it was never supposed to happen, staying as his hidden fantasy and dark secret. What if he deleted the account, right here, right now, would he be able to convince Steve that it never existed?

No. Steve wouldn't fall for it. And Tony felt so stupid for creating that account in the first place, but he needed a place to vent. He didn't plan on socializing, sharing his life, just get the urges out and move on. He just... Wanted to feel accepted. Find people who thought the same as he did. Not feel so alone.

And he would end alone because Steve definitely was going to dump him.

***

"I am back!"

Tony was a genius. He had numerous diplomas to prove it. Yet, he decided that the best thing to do would be to march into his and Steve's shared floor, acting like nothing ever happened. Maybe if he managed to keep his cool he could put this whole Tumblr thing as a social study. Just a research on kinks. No biggie. He could do this.

"Tony, come to the bedroom for a second!"

Somehow hearing Steve's voice made this situation very real and not like Tony imagined it. He couldn't say anything from the tone of Steve's voice, it was neutral, not angry, but also wasn't the cheerful, loving one Steve had towards him. On usual days, Steve would come to him, resembling an excited puppy and lick his face - kiss, Tony meant kiss, and then they would sit on the couch and share their day. Their bedroom was a private, closed space and once Tony set his foot there, there was no way back.

Feeling a nervous twist in his stomach, Tony peeked into the bedroom, just to feel if the situation was as bad as he feared. Steve was on the bed, forehead creased in thought, and was looking at the space in front of him until he spotted Tony from the corner of his eyes.

"Tony - " Steve started, sitting up straight, pulling shoulders back.

"No, Steve, I - " Tony walked into the bedroom, trying to make his voice strong. Just remember what he had planned and it would be fine. "I want to talk first, okay?"

Steve blinked and frowned lightly, but kept his lips tight. Alright, if Tony insisted.

"Okay," Tony nodded, trying to give himself some courage and began to pace around the room. "I know you found my Tumblr account," he said the obvious, struggling to keep his voice firm. "And - and it was not true, you know that, right? I just - research - an experiment to - ahh," Tony quickly got lost in his words, noticing Steve's look changing to a confused one. "I - ah, fuck, fuck, fuck - " Tony couldn't get any coherent words out and stopped and hid his face in hands. He continued to quietly curse, not knowing how to get out of this mess and not lose everything.

"Babe..."

Tony almost jumped away, when Steve came closer and wrapped arms around him. After a moment of hesitation, Tony buried himself into his soldier's arms, his face pressed against Steve's neck. Probably the last hug he would receive from Steve. This whole thing won't make Avengers stuff awkward at all. What if Steve would quit the team? Tony couldn't imagine not being able to see Steve anymore. He needed him. He would change, he would do better. Steve couldn't break up with him.

"Of course that I am not breaking up with you," Steve said suddenly, and Tony winced, not realizing he said it out loud. "Is that what you thought?" Steve asked, sounding shocked. Reluctantly, Tony nodded. Somehow he was used to being rejected and walking away from problems was one of the things he did and expected the same happen to him.

"God, Tony," Steve said in an exasperated huff, not believing how quickly this whole thing could escalate in Tony's mind. Then again, he should know, because Tony did think too much and sometimes didn't stop his thoughts on time, letting them drag him deeper and deeper. "Tony, I am not breaking up with you," Steve said again, just to make sure the words sunk in his boyfriend's head. "And I am sorry," Steve gently put his thumb and forefinger under Tony's chin, encouraging him to eye contact. 'Sorry you turned out to be messed up in the head,' Tony finished in his mind, looking into Steve's blue eyes.

"I am sorry for barging into your space when you didn't feel ready to share yet," Steve said, closing the distance between them and leaning his forehead against Tony's.

What?

Tony didn't reply, just stared, his brown eyes widening. Steve was... apologizing to him? Not the other way around?

"I read some of your blog," Steve said and Tony panicked again, Steve holding him closer when he felt brunet's body tense, "and I understand how hard it is for you to talk about it and how important it is for you. I really do. If anything, I am... a bit disappointed you didn't tell me. Why didn't you?"

Tony's mouth twisted into a scowl. He was disappointed with himself too, but it was hard. Harder than admitting that he liked being pinned down by Steve, or spanked, as it all seemed... simpler. It was obvious why people who enjoyed it were turned on by it. Tickling wasn't easy to explain.

"I wanted to," Tony finally spoke, his voice coming out quiet, "I didn't know how," this wasn't a good answer. Tony closed his eyes, not able to look at Steve. "I was embarrassed, I guess."

"Hmmm," Steve hummed in understanding, waiting for Tony to continue, but he didn't say anything more. Tony had no problems with voicing out his needs on his site, but face to face with Steve, he was fumbling and struggling for words. Anonymity gave him a sense of control which was being stripped away from him, layer by layer. Maybe with time, Tony would open more, and it was on Steve's side to nurture that vulnerable mindset until Tony would feel strong enough and confident to voice out his true needs.

"Then... can you tell me why you like it?" Steve tried, sounding gentle and not judgmental. Keeping an open mind was the key here.

"I don't know," Tony said quickly, sounding defensive. He didn't mean to, but it was stranger than him. He didn't want Steve to judge him, to think less of him, but... It was Steve. Steve who was always so understanding and didn't laugh at him and did his best to keep Tony feel accepted. It won't work if Steve would be the only one willing to share. "I guess," Tony corrected himself, trying to be more open, "I like the trust in it. And closeness," he said, tugging on Steve's clothes and hiding more into his boyfriend, "and, uh, it feels good."

"Feels good?"

"Yeah," Tony admitted, burying his heated face deeper into Steve's neck. "Feels really good. Especially when you are the one ti - doing it."

"Oh," Steve said, carding his fingers through the short hair on the back of Tony's head. Tony shivered, just slightly, from the light touch, smiling against Steve's skin and Steve felt an urge to touch him all over. This time differently, more aware and more intimate, paying closer attention to the reactions. "So... you wanna do it?"

"Do what?"

"You know what."

Tony moved away from Steve, showing a confused face. That kinda felt like mocking him, but Steve's face was honest. And it would certainly change the mood and make Tony feel better about this whole day. "I don't know," Tony said, just to be safe, "do you want to do it?"

"Heck yeah."

"What? You do?" Tony asked, his mouth falling agape at the enthusiasm.

"Sure. You like it and I like tickling you too. It's a win-win, right?"

Tony started to smile in relief. It was really happening. Steve accepted one of Tony's darkest secrets and even wanted to take part in it. Tony could barely wrap his mind around it, already feeling excited and giddy.

"So?" Steve asked again, eyes sparkling, waiting for permission from his boyfriend.

"If you keep asking, it takes the surprise factor AWAAHHAHA!" Tony's newly found boost of confidence was efficiently cut off when Steve latched hands to his sides and squeezed repeatedly. Tony doubled over in laughter and squirmed away, watching with a pounding heart as Steve followed him, smiling beautifully mischievous. "No, no, no, wait, Steve! STEHEVE!" Tony screeched in laughter when Steve ran forward, pushing Tony on the bed, and falling with him. "ACK! STE - hahaha! Waaait!" Tony wailed when fingers were going up and down his body tickling intensely. When Tony became pink in the face and a little breathless, Steve stopped, leaning in and kissing Tony's smiling lips.

"I love you, babe," Steve whispered, looking at his lover.

"I love you too," Tony answered, his heart hammering from the ticklish rush and all love he had for Steve.

"Are we good?"

"We are good," Tony assured, still not believing that everything turned out so great.

"Good," Steve smiled, and just now Tony realized that somehow both of his wrists were in soldier's hold and Steve easily pinned his hands above his head, leaving his torso exposed. "Because now," Steve said, sitting on Tony's thighs and slowly sliding his free hand under Tony's shirt. "I want to test every ticklish spot on you."

"Oh fuhahahck - " Tony wriggled uselessly, his stomach sinking in when Steve gently ran fingertips over the soft skin. "Steve, Steve, pleaheehehehese!"

"This is just your tummy and you already are so ticklish. It is a very promising start."

"Ahhahaha!"

"Oh, is this rib ticklish? How about this one? And this one?"

"GAAA HAHAHA!"

"Oh look, the higher I go, the more you laugh. Sooo, this means that when I do this -"

"PFF HAHAHAHA!"

"That's one ticklish armpit you have, babe! Let's find out if the other one is as ticklish -"

Steve was grinning, watching Tony crumbling and laughing, coming apart under his fingers. Steve was right, it was a win-win for both of them.

***

"You should write on your Tumblr."

"Huh?"

"You should," Steve repeated, rolling on completely naked Tony and kissing his lips, "write on your," a kiss on the chin, "Tumblr," Steve finished, blowing a raspberry into Tony's neck.

"HAAHAHA! Stoooop," Tony tried to swat Steve away, feeling too blissful to move. Of course that a long, intimate tickle session changed into an amazing make out. It was incredible how the tickle foreplay increased their appetite and how wonderfully responsive Tony became.

Steve laughed and rolled on his side, looking at Tony with adoration. Laughing made Tony ten times more attractive in Steve's eyes, and Tony was off the scale to start with.

"I am serious, babe," Steve tried again, gently poking his finger all over Tony's bare belly, making him squeak funnily and curl up, "write on your Tumblr. Everyone has to be worried."

"Ah hahaha... Ohkahay!" Tony agreed, shielding his stomach with one hand and using the other one to reach for his phone. "Uhh... Should I update and delete it?" Tony asked. With everything working out so great, there was no reason for him to keep that account. No more secret lusting, when he had it all in real life.

"If you want to," Steve said truthfully, "or maybe you can keep it for a bit longer because I might need some inspiration on how to take you apart."

"Ahhh, not sure if I want to give you access to that sort of power," Tony teased, opening the app. "Huh, people kinda hate you."

Steve shrugged, understanding that what he wrote, did sound menacing, even if it wasn't his intention. "Just write that we are fine and your boyfriend plans on fulfilling your each and every one tickle fantasy."

"You do?" Tony asked, voice trembling with excitement.

"All of them, babe," Steve assured, smiling broadly. He had remembered some of the things he read and gifs he saw, and could easily imagine Tony on the receiving end.

Looking enthusiastic, Tony got to writing. Soon, Steve got up and leaned over Tony's shoulder, looking at the screen.

'Hi, guys. Sorry for the sudden silence but as you saw we had a situation here. It is all good now, me and BF talked, and he turned to be all sweet about it, not bragging, I just had my first tickle session and it was amazing! So, I just wanted to give you an update, that I am fine. More than fine. My BF said that I can keep this Tumblr if I want to and he will even use it as an inspiration, so aaaah, can't wait. Just don't give him any ideas! I am gonna talk to you all soon, but for now, I and my BF have plans. See you later!'

After the post got published, Tony and Steve didn't have to wait for a reaction.

'AAAAH! I AM SO GLAD EVERYTHING IS FINE! YOU BOYS HAVE FUN NOW!'

'Awesome, couple goals.'

'That's great, dude, but I hope your BF apologized.'

"That's the one that doesn't like me, right?" Steve squinted his eyes, pointing at the last comment. Tony laughed and nosed Steve's cheek playfully.

"It is okay, I like you," he smiled. "Do you want to have a nickname? That will make it much easier for me to write when you are involved."

"Um, sure," Steve said, not entirely sold on the idea, but not wanting to shot Tony's idea down. "You call yourself Spare Parts Man, right?" Steve asked and Tony nodded. "Soooo... How about you call me Iron Man?"

Tony's smile dropped in surprise, and he laughed mockingly. "Seriously, dude?"

"Hey, the darkest place is under the candle," Steve said, sounding defensive.

"Fine," Tony agreed, rolling his eyes dramatically. He reblogged the post and added an update.

'BF wants you to call him Iron Man. I know, lame.'

"Ack!" Tony almost dropped his phone when Steve scoldingly pinched his side. Soon the first comments came.

'Ah you sound like a superhero couple, how cute!'

'I am shipping you both. #relationshipgoals'

'Wow, your BF is not very creative, isn't he? But fine, let it be IRON MAN.'

"Write to this one that I don't like them either," Steve hissed, looking at the last comment.

Tony laughed and turned to Steve, pressing their lips together in a kiss. Long and sweet. The kind of kiss that was the perfect happy ending to a tickle kink coming out story.

"Oh, interesting!" Steve suddenly said, ending the kiss too soon and looking at one of the comments, smiling wickedly.

"What is int - noooooo!" Tony wailed, understanding the reason behind the smile. It was stronger than him and Tony started to panic. "It is a lie, Steve! Don't believe the lieeee no no aaah HELP!"

Steve laughed, wrestling Tony down and pinning his hands once again. If Tony was already getting this worked up, there was no way Steve would back up.

"No, please!" Tony giggled, kicking his legs, trying to wriggle away, as Steve's menacingly moving fingers were getting closer and closer. "I cahahahan't!"

Somehow, Steve didn't believe him. Instead, he believed the comment.

'Hey, this is for Iron Man - I am sure you know already, that SP's stomach is really ticklish, but did you try tickling his belly button specifically? From what SP writes it is a very ticklish outie. Have fun!'

When Steve pressed his finger over Tony's outie delicately and Tony burst into giggling, almost maniacal laughter, Steve was in heaven. It was settled, Tony was keeping his blog for further tips for Steve.

#stony #steve rogers #tony stark #superhusbands #stevetony #tickling #tickle kink #tickle fic #upperbody tickling #fanfic #fanfiction

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luvdsc · 3 years

Note

hi miss cat!!! i was wondering if you had any advice on asking mutuals to beta-read + making friendships here on tumblr? you and your mutuals always seem so close and like irl friends! i'm so sorry if this sounds out of the blue!

hi, honey bee!!! 💛 for asking mutuals to beta read, I just asked them shdjdjd I was like “hey do you wanna read my fic draft” and they were like “hell yeah” so then I just added them to my google doc! tk god (hyoseobie / eggyukhei) actually offered to read my drafts when I was having trouble and she gave me suggestions and whatnot, so she’s my go to for beta reading :’) I will throw every single ridiculous fic idea at her and she responds with 100% energy every time. the dumbing down of love and sweeter than honey wouldn’t have been completed without her !!!! for pussy blocked and august, I believe steph (aqiaquas), ti (m88n), lana (choerrypuffs), moon (wincore), and tk all had access to them. Except !!!! when I was debating on the ending for pussy blocked (aka jeno or jaemin), none of them knew who was endgame, except for moon 💓 she’s an absolute godsend and I heavily discussed everything with her for both august and pussy blocked, especially the ending 💕 so big shout out to her for really helping me out with both of them 🌸🌸

I made friends by either a) gushing about their writing in their ask box or dm’s because have you seen how talented they all are???? or b) they sent me a message! 🥰 I can go more into detail about my closest mutuals below:

tk god (hyoseobie / eggyukhei) — tk was my very first mutual on here and a big reason as to why I even started this blog :’) I found her nct blurbs and fell in love with them and I was like “I wanna write blurbs too!!” so I made this blog and then I sent her an ask and we just kept talking after that 💘 and we got close, and we were supposed to see nct together last june 🤧 nowadays, I just spam her with a lot of meme posts on insta and guilt trip her for dropping yukhei for jaemin and doyoung 😔 I’m sorry for clowning you so much tk

els (taeyongtime) — els is so freaking talented, and I read her tabula rasa fic way back in 2017 when I wasn’t even a fan of nct and didn’t know who each member was. All I knew was that this was the greatest fic I have ever read, and nothing will ever top it. anyway, someone asked me for fic recs, and I had tagged her in it because of course, I would recommend her superior fic 🤩 and then she reached out to me, and now we like to complain about work together lol and text everyday and I send her phyllis pictures and we even mail each other letters !! 💕 also !!!! She’s the closest to my age out of my close friends here, so I feel like it’s super easy to talk to her 💞

lana (choerrypuffs) — she reblogged my neptune’s atlantis fic, and I responded to her reblog and also her blog looked super aesthetic so I clicked on it and then read her fics and was like “wow god tier writing I need to send in some asks to scream about these fics because the TALENT 💓💓” and we talked but we didn’t get close until like a week later when I found this pjo meme and didn’t know who else liked pjo except for her so I randomly dm’ed it to her with some all caps screaming message LOL and now we enjoy shit talking about anything and everything because it’s a safe judge free zone for our unpopular opinions lmaooo and she bullies me for typing all my fics on my phone but it’s ok because at least I’m honest about my bias and I don’t burn toaster strudels in the oven

steph (aqiaquas) — I needed some jeno pictures to make his banner for my not clickbait series and posted a cry for help about it, and she responded !!! I believe she also left a comment earlier regarding my wips about bff renjun faking an aussie accent, but we didn’t talk to each other as much until the jeno pic thing! I dm’ed her for the help and we just continued to talk after that 💕 so thank you jeno I suppose lmaoo and we’re also pen pals now 🥰 big props to her for always giving the nicest advice and for always listening to me 🥺 i talk to her about work issues a lot and we text daily !! I tell her and ti more stuff about me than I do with any of my friends tbh 🤧 I also did a facetime with her and ti a few weeks ago and we got her to stay up past her early bedtime cndjjdjdjdjd she, ti, and i have a gc which she has named “JENO APPRECIATION SOCIETY” LMAO

ti (t-shrt / m88n) — ti left me the kindest words and most detailed asks regarding my fics, and I still cherish them so so much 🥺💗💗 from there, she sent me more asks and I started talking to her more until we began to dm each other! and my god, she just gets me 100% and I can talk to her about anything like even the scariest most personal stuff I don’t tell anyone else about myself, I feel comfy enough to tell her about it, and I hope she feels the same! We text each other everyday and are also pen pals, and I want to visit her and steph one day!!! 💖 honestly I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who has related to me so much before, and you know what? ti, if you’re reading this, I think this is the easy we were talking about before

moon (wincore) — can you believe that we’ve only been friends for 40 days??? I just checked and I am flabbergasted because it feels like so much longer than that. An anon messaged moon a cute ask about how she and I are both yunqis and write fics, and she had tagged me in it! So I sent her an ask, and we were also in the same almost collab, so I dm’ed her afterwards, and we started talking and now she sends me pictures of her doggos and I send pictures of phyllis and I can talk about anything with her and we like to bounce fic ideas off of each other (read: one of us tells the other about a wip and the other person screams and sends a bunch of capslock messages about it) jejdjdjd her only flaw is that she barks at her dogs and doesn’t see this as furry behavior 😔 also we have the same taste in men LOL legends only and I hope she’s having lots of fun in the club listening to t swift rn !!!!

april (dropofgoldensun) — april ilysm okay so she always left the loveliest comments under my fics, and one day, I had this fic idea and was like “I want someone else’s opinion on this” but I wanted a fresh perspective on it, so I decided to dm her out of the blue and ask what she thought of it! And from there, we began to talk more and we also sent each other letters !!! in fact, I got hers last week and it made me 🥺🥺🥺💗💗 I have it pinned up to the corkboard in my room along with drawings by steph 💘

so all in all, I made friends by regularly sending them asks or shooting them a dm, or they sent me asks and continued to have a conversation with me 🥰 as an extrovert, I always love making new friends and never shy away from meeting new people, but I understand that it can be scary for some to reach out and take the first step 🤧 but if you do decide to, you might meet the most wonderful people 💞 I honestly can’t imagine what my life would be like without the friends I made on here now 🤧💖 but also, be careful of stranger danger and talk to those appropriate to your age! quite frankly, for instance, it doesn’t make sense for a 25 year old to want to be friends with a 14 year old. I can understand if the 14 year old wants to ask for advice or something, but having an equal friendship is nearly impossible when you’re at different stages of your life / maturity. Please stay safe! 💛 and omg no need to apologize, lovebug, I hope my answer made sense for you! let me know if you have any other questions 💟

#asks #anonymous

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bizlawgal · 3 years

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I wanted to share a prompt! Hope is ok ❤️: Emma is norman's bodyguard. And he's so cute 😳. But she has to focus because she's a professional 😎. But he's so sweet and treats her like she was a princess! But he's also super important and she needs to give the 100% to protect him. But the way he calls her, it's just... Would be people surprised if she falls for him? What would people think if she tries to take him for her 🤭😏.

This took a while.

Here’s Lyn’s first contribution to the N/E tag for 2021 on Tumblr.

I personally enjoyed writing this because it’s so angsty, but it’s a dessert with a cherry on top for an ending.

I. There was no fitting person for the job other than her.

With a slender built, an agile reflex, and a taste for anything below the surface of safety, she was more than willing to accept the terms and conditions that came with the job.

"Oliver tells me you're experienced in this line of work," said Ray, the person-in-charge with most of the personal bodyguards assigned to the Minerva Family. "You do know that individuals who prefer this line of work are the ones who have —"

"— nothing left to lose, I know," she continued. This line was something she had memorized long ago. "No one will be looking for me if I do lose my life somewhere along the line. I have no more family to go back to."

Her father had died a couple of years back. Incarcerated for a murder she knew he did not commit, and died a sorrowful death behind bars because of an undetected disease.

Since then, she had taken a liking to the profession of looking after people; being a bodyguard gave her a purpose to live, and another way to make amends with her helplessness.

Ray's face echoed skepticism. "As long as you won't die before the person you're in charge of, then there won't be any problems. At least during this coming election period. Your service is of utmost importance."

Emma released a deep sigh upon learning that she had finally landed this job. "Who am I in-charge of protecting?"

"The heir of the Minerva Family," he answered as he flipped through her folder full of credentials one last time. "Consider this as your first day on the job. Here's the itinerary for today. He's a very busy person but make sure you leave a good impression."

He? She had never worked as a bodyguard for any man before, but being ever-so devoted to what she did for a living, she shoved the underlying curiosity in her mind.

Emma nodded submissively as she extended her hand to claim the supposed itinerary and immediately implanted the details inside her head. The idea to process everything in an instant was something she was good at.

"Memorized it?" Ray quipped, a challenging smirk making its way to his lips.

"Yes," she beamed, "I’ve memorized it by heart."

"Do you still have any inquiries about what your job will be? About the person you're in charge of?"

She shook her head in an absolute stance. "I think I'm well-informed."

"Good, because here comes the Minerva you're in-charge of."

She heard the simultaneous clicking of heels against the marbled floors, and when the door to the room opened, she swang her head to officially meet him with a smile.

Instead of a smile on her lips, she only registered an expression of awe; lips parted in wordless wonder and eyes widened with a different kind of expectation.

He was the first to move on, reflecting the same enchantment on his face, and spoke, "You must be —"

"Emma," she supplied. "I'm Emma Mikhaylov, and starting today, I'll be your personal bodyguard, Sir Minerva."

He smiled, and she was sure that it might've made her heart twitch a bit. "It's nice to meet you, Emma. Are you aware of our itinerary for today?"

She looked over at Ray, and back at the heir. Her breath hitched upon answering. "Yes, sir."

There was one thing that Ray failed to mention.

Norman Minerva, the heir to the family of politicians, was a damn well-proportioned, good-looking man.

II.

"How are you supposed to protect me if you're the one behind the wheels?"

It was another one of his comments that initially swayed her to think that he wasn't just one of those old money brats from a political dynasty.

It had been three months of being his bodyguard, and she couldn't deny that he was suspiciously treating her better than how he did with others.

Without taking her eyes off the road, she answered, "It's my job to chaperone you, too."

He subtly scratched his head. "Do I have to spell it out for you that I want you next to me? We could've asked Ray to chaperone us, could we not?"

"Ah, but Ray is out doing his own chaperoning for your sister."

He snorted. "There is no winning that. He fancies my sister, after all."

Emma chuckled lightly. "Miss Anna is really lovely. I doubt anyone would second-guess their attraction towards her, sir."

"Emma." There was a sternness to the way he said her name that made her slightly jolt in her seat. "I've told you a thousand times to simply call me by my name."

"It's inappro—"

"It is not," Norman sighed heavily, thinking how many times they've had this conversation. "I already told you that I do not think of you merely as my bodyguard. I simply enjoy your company and I think you know by now that I fancy you. We should try to be more casual."

This brought out another laughter from her, yet it was laced with awe and disbelief. She hoped that he couldn't see how hard she was trying to gulp down her nerves.

"That isn't part of my job description, si— Norman. What you're suggesting is highly inappropriate."

Norman raised a skeptical brow from the rearview mirror, and she tensed in her seat when his eyes bore into hers. "But you find Anna and Ray's illicit affair romantic? What makes my attraction for you different from theirs?"

Emma took a deep breath and internally reminded herself that she was a professional. This was not something she should be entangled in, especially since her sole purpose was to keep him safe until the elections were over.

She was simply thankful that they had arrived at the first one on his itinerary. "Would you look at that? We're here! Wait for me to open your door, okay?"

"Emma, you don't have to —"

She whipped her head and raised a finger. "No buts. This is my job."

It was when she got out of the car and paused for a second did she let the facade fade from her face.

Just being in the same space with him was getting harder and harder each day.

III.

It was rare for her to curse, but given the scenario they were in, it was hard not to.

"Damn election period," Emma hissed at the side, aiming the gun towards the door.

The Minerva Estate was breached and unidentified men were detected rummaging within the massive palazzo. Ruckus could be heard from the outside of the walls, and the more it came, the more fear resonated between her fingertips.

"Emma!" Norman cried out from within the confines of his walk-in closet, drenched in his own fear and misgivings. "Let me out this instant!"

It was rare of him to question his lack of strength or physical means to pry a door open; this was one of those rare occurrences.

"No can do, Norman," she vocalized it with depth, making it known to him that there was no way she was letting him out for the sake of his safety. "Stay right there. It's for your own good."

In a hysterical voice, he rebutted, "And what about you? Why can you not hide here with me?"

She found the whole thing utterly ridiculous. "Are you insane? I'm your bodyguard, remember? It's my job to keep you safe!"

"And what will I do if you die trying to protect me?" His words were more of a plea than a question, knotting within the hollows of his stomach.

"I cannot lose you, Emma."

She hissed at the words, and begrudgingly closed her eyes before snapping her view at the walk-in closet.

"And I cannot lose you!" She almost screeched it — everything that she had been bottling inside for the sake of her sanity, eating away every bit of suppressed emotions that she carefully placed at the back of her heart. "I will not allow anything or anyone to bring you harm. I can’t let another person I care for die! This is my job —"

"Who cares about this job —"

"— and this is what I feel for you! Do I have to make it more obvious?" She gritted her teeth and sucked in what was left of her confidence and her time.

He couldn't see her face, but as she spoke, he could imagine her smiling, the one that was ever-so bright in his eyes and never wavered.

"I'm keeping you safe not only because it's my job, but also because... I love you."

The sounds of constricted breathing inside the closet kept crushing her from the inside.

"Emma, I —!"

It left him no room to speak when he heard the door to his room opened, and the succession of gunshots took place.

Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into hours.

Silence consumed him, yet successions of calling out her name proved no merit.

She never answered.

IV.

"You are an idiot! An idiot, I tell you!"

Emma winced, not only for the pain inflicted on her by the graze of a bullet but also for the commotion caused by the man that had just barged through the door.

One look at him was enough of sedation for her; he was unscathed and safe.

She was about to lift herself up, gradually moving to position herself to sit on the bed, when his pair of arms reached out and enclasped her in an embrace.

His smelt of honeydew mixed with smoke, and she could feel the debris of wherever he had gotten himself into while she was asleep, against her cheek. Hearing his raspy shivered breathing against her ear struck every nerve on her body and the amount of tension on the tips of his fingers indicated that he was beyond worried for her dear life instead of his.

If they weren't surrounded by a mountain of eyes that would dare scrutinize this shared moment between then, she would've tackled him to the ground herself.

"I'm glad you're ok—"

"You idiot! Don't ever do that again!" His voice was demanding — pleading even, and seething through her skin. "I thought... I thought I lost you!"

His arms remained tightened around her, and she could only eye Ray with green eyes full of hesitancy. He only shrugged, but the way he cradled the smirk on his lips wasn't enough to deceive her.

She was merely her bodyguard.

She had no rights to him.

"Earlier," he voiced out, trembling, "You told me what you felt. What was I supposed to do inside that closet you locked me in, Emma?!"

The way he held her instigated that he no longer held any plans of letting her go.

"I wanted to keep you safe, si—"

"Do not call me 'sir'. I am simply Norman to you, and you're simply Emma to me."

His eyes are stained with unshed tears; only remorse for moments that he thought he'd never have with her again. "Will you let me hear it again?"

Emma seemed lost. "Hear what?"

His face softened with the memory. "What you told me earlier. Let me hear it once again. Let me know that it wasn't just a hallucination on my end."

That unexpected confession of hers from earlier earned her a bright, rosy blush all over her face.

"I-I have feelings for you."

Norman gave a low chuckle. "I guess that's another way of saying it. But I'm in love with you, Emma. From now on, stop being my bodyguard and simply be with me instead. Please, consider it." His smile came off sheepish. "I can't handle your constant disregard for your own safety for the sake of mine."

"B-but who's going to guard you?"

"I'll take over," Ray interjected, arms crossed over his chest. "It’s not as if I haven’t noticed the way you two have been acting for the last couple of months. Also, it's high time you stop being so reckless, Emma! You shouldn't have handled that situation all on your own. You could've called for back-up in his room!”

Emma nearly winced at Ray's reprimanding; he was right on the dot. She placed her sights on Norman and said, "But I'd still like to look after you. I've... grown to like it."

"Emma," he said her name a soft and gentle as he always had, and she knew that what would come next after her name were words meant to last a lifetime.

"I might not be as strong as you are with a gun, or as fast as you are when you run, but I'll look after you all my life, just as you'll look after mine. I’ll be your family. We’ll be a family."

Emma tried to suppress the grin on her face, but it failed spectacularly, and now she was facing him with immense joy, intertwining her fingers within his. His touch his warm and inviting, and it allowed her to further lament why she never allowed the idea of ever becoming his and him ever becoming hers.

"And we'll be equals?"

She searched his sights and he responded with the same amount of affection in his eyes; in his hold, she’d always be home.

"We were always equals."

#noremma #noremma prompt #the promised neverland #tpn emma #tpn norman #a bit angsty but it's a happy ending i swear

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helaintoloki · 4 years

Text

Moments

pairing: Poe Dameron x reader

warnings: fluff, mentions of pregnancy, hint of angst, the works

summary: a second compilation of moments throughout your relationship with Poe Dameron

notes: finally wrote the part two you guys asked for. and a gentle reminder that requests are open so send them in ! also thank you tumblr once again for not putting my work in the tags :’)

“Poe, everything alright?” Finn asks gently, a comforting hand resting upon his best friend’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Poe nods before letting out a defeated sigh. “Just really missing y/n right now.”

Finn’s once concerned look is now replaced by one of annoyance.

“Man, it’s been five minutes since we left the base.”

~~~

“What about Rex?”

“I had an ex-boyfriend named Rex,” Poe interjects with the click of his tongue. “Did not end well.”

“Okay, what about Obi?” You suggest.

“As in Obi-Wan Kenobi?” Poe retorts.

“You come up with something then!” You exclaim exasperated. “You haven’t given me a single idea.”

“Well shouldn’t I put the baby in you first before we start thinking of names?”

“Then do it coward,” you challenge.

“Wait, you mean like right now? The debrief is in ten minutes.”

“It doesn’t take that long to make a baby,” you shrug. “We’ll just skip all the extra stuff.”

“But I like the extra stuff,” Poe seems to pout, and you can’t help but laugh as you pull him closer to you by the collar of his shirt.

“It’s physically impossible to make a baby by doing the extra stuff,” you teasingly point out. “Ten minutes. Hurry up, flyboy.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Poe huffs out in fake annoyance, but the eager smile painted across his face says other wise. “Time to make a baby.”

~~~

“You still mad?”

Silence.

“Yep, okay, you’re still mad,” Poe confirms with a nod. He knows better than to interrogate you further when your eyes are as wild and full of fury as they are now.

“Holdo is my superior. Do you know how embarrassing it is to have your partner stage a mutiny against your superior?” You snap.

“Your superior is going to get us killed,” Poe states calmly, and that only infuriates you further.

“Leia put her in charge for a reason, Poe!” You cry. Pausing, you let out a defeated sigh and tiredly begin to rub at your eyes. He hasn’t realized just how exhausted you are until now. “I’m sorry she didn’t choose you. And I know you wish she would have. But she didn’t, and she probably had a reason for it. So I am asking you just this once to take a step back and let Holdo do what she needs to do because I cannot have you putting our baby in danger!”

There’s a pregnant pause as the two of you stare at each other, Poe’s gaze traveling down from your worried face to your heaving shoulders to your stomach.

“Our baby?” Poe repeats softly. Another pause, a tired smile etching across your features.

“I’m pregnant.”

~~~

“It’s beautiful here,” you note as you sit amongst the jungle life of Ajan Kloss with Leia seated comfortably beside you.

“It is,” she agrees. “Though it‘s no place for children.”

“A war is no place for children. We’ll make it work,” is your optimistic reply. The First Order seemed stronger than ever now, but the promise of new life and the start of your own family made your situation less daunting.

“May I?” Leia asks, and you allow the woman to rest a hand on your heavily pregnant stomach. You look as though you could pop at any moment, which is very likely considering you’re roughly eight months along.

You watch fondly as the woman shuts her eyes and searches for the child through the force, lashes fluttering and lips curling into a calm smile the moment she finds them. This process seemed to be a daily occurrence, your General checking in to make sure your baby was happy and healthy. The Resistance had suffered too many losses. She would not lose this too.

“Well?” You press gently. Leia’s eyes open slowly, and you are met with a look that can only be defined as full of love and adoration for the unborn Dameron child.

“You’re going to be a wonderful mother.”

~~~

You stand in the doorway of your little cottage home on Yavin-4, a cup of caff in your hands and a tender smile on your face as you watch your one year old daughter waddle happily through the high grass and collapse into the waiting arms of her father.

Nova Organa Dameron had been born in the midst of the war, and with only 3PO and Leia’s presence through the force at your side did you give birth to your daughter. Poe returned from the fighting to find you not only alive and safe, but carrying a bouncing bundle of joy in your arms. The Resistance had won, and Poe took comfort in knowing your daughter could grow in a world of peace.

“Poe, Nova, breakfast,” you call from the doorway, catching both your husband and your daughter’s attention. With their faces pointed in your direction you can’t help but feel as if your heart is ready to burst with love, for Nova is an exact carbon copy of her father. The same warm brown eyes, the same unruly curls, and the same smiles that you greet you every morning.

“Hello my love,” Poe beams, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek before passing Nova over to you.

“You didn’t wake me up,” you note.

“You needed the sleep,” is Poe’s response. “And I wanted to take Nova out to see the sunrise.”

“Did she like it?”

“She loved it,” Poe beams. “Is uncle Finn still coming over today?”

“He hasn’t said otherwise. Which means you should get to work on fixing up the guest room.”

“Can’t he just hole up with Nova?” Poe teases. “They’re best buddies.”

“Poe, Finn needs a comfortable room he can actually fit in,” you chide lightheartedly.

“You’re right. I’ll get to it after breakfast. You coming?”

“In a minute,” is your response. Nova is beginning to nod off again, and you’d like to allow her to fall asleep completely before heading back inside.

“See you in a minute then,” Poe replies as he presses another kiss to your temple. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Nova falls asleep against your chest, and the world is peaceful once again.

#poe dameron #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron one shot #poe x reader #poe dameron x reader #moments #star wars

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ollieofthebeholder · 3 years

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leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fic

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Chapter 23: Tim

Sasha at least has the decency to call Saturday afternoon to say that her “appointment” ran late and she’s spending the night in her own flat, which is closer, but Tim’s a bit more upset about it than he really has any right to be. Martin and Jon seem to understand, though, or at least not to blame him, and he falls asleep tucked between them on the sofa. He wakes up Sunday morning a bit stiff and sore, but feeling safe and comforted for the first time in a while, and for the first time actually stays where he is rather than getting up immediately. Sunday night, when she still doesn’t come back, the three of them pile into Tim’s bed.

It makes him feel a little better come Monday morning, although he still doesn’t completely relax until Sasha stumbles in with her coffee and a box of pastries as a peace offering. He’s happier to see her safe than to see the box of doughnuts, but he’s not going to complain about those, either.

They spend the first few minutes of the day sharing Sasha’s doughnuts and telling her about the house they toured on Saturday. She’s politely enthusiastic, but in her eyes there’s a hint of don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask that makes something sink in Tim’s stomach. She’s not interested in sharing a house with the others, no matter how much space of her own she could have. She’s vague about what she was doing on Saturday, and Tim decides that pressing her isn’t going to be a good idea. As a result, at least in his opinion, Monday is a bit tense, especially compared to how things have been in the last two months. He’s a little bit anxious and agitated when she insists on going home after work again, so Martin makes grilled cheese sandwiches because they’re a childish comfort food of Tim’s. They end up sitting around the kitchen table going over their finances, and Tim forgets his worries about Sasha in favor of being horrified at how much of Martin’s paycheck is going to his mother’s care home bills, but the overall end result is that Tim makes an appointment for them to see a banker on Thursday.

Sasha is enthusiastic for them, even if she’s not planning to be a part of things, so the mood on Tuesday morning is high. Martin goes on the warpath against the cobwebs cluttering up the corners of the Archive shelves while Tim pours on the charm to try and wheedle records out of people who shouldn’t give them out and Sasha coaxes secrets out of the Internet. Jon shuts himself up in his office, presumably to do whatever digital recordings he can; the statements might not be genuine encounters, but since Elias doesn’t know they know what’s what, they have to keep up appearances, at least for now.

All that changes when Sasha’s desk phone rings.

“Archives, Sasha James speaking,” she says, her voice crisp and professional. A look crosses over her face that Tim can’t identify, but her voice never changes. “Of course. I’ll be right up.” She hangs up and looks over at Tim. “That was Manal at Reception. Someone’s here to make a statement.”

“And we can’t send them to Research because…?” Tim prompts.

“Don’t know why it doesn’t work that way, honestly, but one of you better let Jon know someone’s coming. I’m on escort duty.” Sasha closes her laptop and heads for the steps, coming back briefly to retrieve her shoes.

Tim sighs and goes over to Jon’s office, since Martin is still back in the stacks, so to speak. They’ve all grown comfortable enough with one another, especially in the last two months, that Tim doesn’t bother knocking; anyway, digital statements are easy to edit, or even re-record, if the sound quality isn’t the best. He just pushes open the door and sticks his head in. “Hey, boss, just a—” he begins, then stops. Dread rushes through him.

The office is empty.

“Jon?” Tim calls, just to confirm Jon isn’t ducking under his desk for some reason. He already knows it’s useless, though. The pile of statements next to his desk are neatly arranged and closed, his laptop is shut, and most importantly, his mug of tea isn’t sitting on the end of the desk.

Tim uses a string of words that his nonno wasn’t supposed to use in front of the children and ducks out of the office, trying not to panic. He knows it’s ridiculous. Nothing’s stalking them at the moment, there’s no imminent danger. There’s no reason to worry. Jon’s probably fine. He’s probably getting a cup of tea from the break room.

Except that they have a tea station in the Archives now, so he doesn’t need to go that far. And Tim’s noticed that Jon never seems to finish his tea unless Martin makes it, which he probably wouldn’t have spotted if not for the fact that he’s kind of the same way. And Jon’s usually good about telling them when he’s ducking out.

“Martin!” Tim calls, pulling the door shut and trying to keep the hysterical edge out of his voice. “Have you seen Jon?”

Martin pops around the edge of a shelf, a slight frown on his face. “Isn’t he still down in the tunnels?”

“The tunnels?” Tim feels his heart begin to slow down, and he wonders if the doorknob is going to be strong enough to keep him upright when his knees buckle. “I didn’t know he went down there.”

“Yeah, about…” Martin twists his wrist and peers at the inside of it. He’s the only person Tim knows under the age of thirty who still wears a wristwatch. “Forty-five minutes ago, maybe? Did you not notice?”

“I was…probably on the phone with someone,” Tim admits, feeling embarrassed. “God. But he did let you know?”

“Not sure he would have if I hadn’t caught him,” Martin says, a hint of disapproval in his tone. “He promised he wouldn’t be long, though.”

“Well, it’s time to come up. Someone’s coming to give a statement,” Tim tells him. “You want to go fetch him? I don’t think there’s much service down there.”

Martin hesitates, then, to Tim’s surprise, shakes his head. “You go get him. I’ll…is Sasha fetching whoever’s got the statement?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I’ll stick around. Make tea. It’ll probably help. You go get Jon.” Martin catches Tim’s raised eyebrow and smiles slightly. “I know what panic looks like, Tim. You’re not going to relax until you’re sure he’s okay. Am I right?”

Tim manages a smile in reply. “You’re not wrong.”

“So go get him. I know where he is, more or less, so I’m not worrying. This time,” Martin adds. “I’ll try to keep things under control until you get Jon back.”

“You’re the best, Martin.” Tim kisses Martin on the cheek without thinking as he passes by. He realizes what he’s just done a second later and almost trips over his own feet, but then decides, at this point, he’s better off pretending that never happened and moving on with his life, so he heads over to the trapdoor without looking back and hopes Martin can’t see him blushing. Mentally, he runs through a few more of those words that would have Nonna applying a wooden spoon to his backside had he said them aloud.

At this point, they’ve all been down at least once, so Tim knows by now which room the Primes are staying in. He raps lightly on the door and calls, “Jon? It’s Tim. You in there?”

“Come in, Tim,” someone calls. Tim thinks it’s one of the Jons.

He pushes open the door and is relieved to see his—their—Jon talking to the Primes. Jon looks honestly confused as he glances down at his phone. “I swear I was watching the time,” he protests. “And I did tell Martin I was coming. I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

Tim decides not to pick that fight. “I believe you. Sorry to cut this short, but someone’s here to make a statement.”

Jon’s shoulders slump. “God,” he says under his breath. “Did they say what it was about?”

“Dunno. Front desk called. Sasha went to fetch whoever it is and I said I’d give you a heads-up. Martin said he’d stall until I brought you back.”

Jon glances at the Primes. “I don’t suppose it’s a false alarm.”

“I don’t think I took a live statement I could record on the laptop after the first six months,” Jon Prime says apologetically. “It’s probably…Christ, what was the…? I swear I only had three live statements on tape before Jane Prentiss attacked. There was Naomi Hearn, then Melanie King, then…”

“That surgeon,” Martin Prime supplies. “The one whose students all had placeholder names.”

“Oh, God, yeah, the apple.” Jon Prime shakes his head. “It’s a Stranger statement.”

Jon sighs heavily and starts to stand. “I suppose I ought to take it,” he says reluctantly. “It’s a shame…never mind.”

“No, what?” Tim insists. “If there’s anything we can do to help…”

“Unfortunately, I’m not sure I’ll be able to justify all of you sitting in on the statement. The live ones are the worst, energy-wise. And I’d hoped to—” Jon meets Tim’s eyes, then looks away, obviously embarrassed.

Tim gets it. Even sleeping between Jon and Martin last night, he’s sure his nightmares were bad. They all know the only way for it to stop is for him to make the statement, and he wants to tell both of them about Danny. But if Jon takes a live statement today, it’ll probably be another week before he can take another, and that’s assuming nobody else comes in with a real one.

“If I may make a suggestion?”

Tim and Jon both turn to look at Jon Prime, who looks up at them with a curious expression. “I’m open to any,” Jon answers.

“If Sasha is escorting your statement-giver downstairs, that means it’s only the four of you down in the Archives,” Jon Prime says. “And as he’s never met you, he has no idea what to expect you to look like.”

“Are you suggesting—what are you suggesting?” Jon narrows his eyes at his counterpart.

Martin Prime pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, closing his eyes as if he has a headache. “He’s suggesting that he go up there with Tim and take the statement for you.”

Jon Prime gestures at Martin Prime grandly. Tim and Jon exchange looks. It’s not actually a bad idea. It’ll keep Jon from sinking any deeper than he already has, at least not yet, and he still doesn’t want that much power. And as Jon Prime said, nobody other than the four of them will know Jon Prime isn’t Jon…as long as Elias doesn’t come down.

“That…could work,” Jon says cautiously. He glances at Tim. “You’ll let the others know why we’re doing this?”

Tim nods. “’Course. And if it’s fake after all, Jon Prime can eat him.”

“I don’t eat people. Only their fear.” Jon Prime kisses Martin Prime’s cheek, the same way Tim accidentally did Martin, which he tries very hard not to think about. “I’ll be back. Half an hour, tops.”

“Be careful.” Martin Prime squeezes his hand, but lets him go. Jon offers Tim a weak smile and sits back down as well.

Tim leads Jon Prime out of the room and into the corridors. As they reach the foot of the steps, Jon Prime says casually, “Care to tell me why you’re blushing, Tim?”

“No,” Tim answers promptly. “No, I would not.”

Jon Prime’s chuckle follows Tim up the steps. He pointedly ignores it.

Martin’s good at this. He and Sasha have positioned their guest—a tall, austere man in a tweed jacket with patches at the elbows and a thick head of salt-and-pepper hair—with his back to the trap door. He’s cradling a steaming cup of tea and listening to Martin explain something. Martin’s eyes drift over the man’s shoulder, not enough to be obvious, and meet Tim’s. Tim flashes an OK sign and stands aside to let Jon Prime out, then carefully closes the trapdoor behind him.

Jon Prime takes a moment to collect himself, like an actor preparing to go onstage. His head goes up, his shoulders go back, and a cold, professional veneer drops over his face. In an instant, he’s put on the persona Jon wore up until Jane Prentiss attacked, and now only trots out for special occasions, like Elias dropping by to “make sure things are going well”. Tim hasn’t seen it in weeks, and he’s never seen it on Jon Prime. It’s somehow even more impressive and intimidating, between the hair, the scars, and the fact that Jon Prime is usually so expressive. He’s looked amused, fond, exasperated, tender, panicked, and utterly besotted, but never blank and stern. There’s just the faintest hint of annoyance in his expression, and Tim finds himself bracing to apologize to the older man who’s about to have to face Jonathan “This is a complete waste of time” Sims.

“May I help you?” Jon Prime says as he strides over, every word crisp and distinct, holding himself like a respectable academic and not an eldritch horror from outside of time and space piloting a battered meat suit.

The man turns around and starts slightly at the sight of Jon Prime, but rallies and offers him a wary nod and a smile. “I certainly hope so. Are you the Head Archivist?”

“Jonathan Sims.” Jon Prime extends his hand. “And you are…?”

“Dr. Lionel Elliott. I’m a professor at Kings College, London.” Dr. Elliott accepts Jon Prime’s hand and shakes it. An odd look comes over his face. “That’s a rather nasty scar. Surprised it didn’t do more damage to your hand.”

“It’s a rather old injury at this point, and I’ve had extensive physical therapy,” Jon Prime says curtly. “I appreciate your concern, however. What may I help you with?”

“Ah.” Dr. Elliott takes a breath. “I was hoping to…make a statement. I had a…deeply unpleasant experience with a class over this last term, and…I hear this institution makes a collection of such things? I—I was hoping you could tell me…that you could help me with it.”

“I see,” Jon Prime says, as if this is news to him. “Well, we’ll certainly see what we can do. If you’ll step into my office?”

He escorts Dr. Elliott to Jon’s office. The second the door closes behind them, the other two turn to look at Tim, Sasha’s eyes curious and Martin’s worried and pleading. Tim holds up his hands to stave off Martin’s concern. In a low voice, he says, “Jon’s fine. We just thought…doing it this way might mean Jon doesn’t have to start sinking so deep. And, well, it’s one less nightmare for him.”

Martin exhales heavily. The worry doesn’t really disappear from his eyes, but it at least shifts its focus, Tim guesses. He can understand that. They’ve all slept in proximity to one another enough to know that Jon’s nightmares are bad and Tim’s aren’t much better. If Martin has nightmares, they’re silent, which isn’t necessarily a point in their favor.

Sasha heads back to her desk. “So this is a real one, is it?”

“Apparently. Jon Prime thinks it’s the Stranger. Not the doctor,” Tim adds quickly as all the color drains out of Martin’s face and he turns towards the office. “Whoever he came in contact with. We’re safe enough. I think.”

Martin inhales, holds the breath for a few seconds, and then lets it out in a slow hiss. “I’m going to go finish digging out those statements. Maybe we can get started on dividing up the work while…he handles that.” He stalks back into the shelves. Tim watches him go, then sighs and thumps into his seat.

A minute or two later, Martin comes back with a stack of files and drops them on his desk. Tim reaches over and snags about half of them and scans the labels. Now that he’s familiar with Gertrude’s numbering system, such as it is, he can see that all but one of the files he’s grabbed are from within the last ten years or so. The other…

“Jesus, is this from the 1800s?” Tim opens the file. It contains nothing except a letter on old, yellowed paper, scorched in places and written in very shaky handwriting that fades in and out. The date at the top is clearly legible, however: November 10, 1845. “1845. Anything important happen that year?”

Martin shrugs. “I mean…depends on what you consider important?”

“Well, what do you know happened that year?” Tim almost asks what do you consider important, but he doesn’t want to diminish anything Martin might know.

“Edgar Allen Poe published The Raven. Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning met, and she started writing her Sonnets from the Portuguese. The Yarmouth suspension bridge collapsed and killed eighty people, mostly children. First year of the Great Famine in Ireland. And I think it was the year the rubber band was invented, or at least patented, but you’d have to ask Jon about that.”

“He’d know.” Tim carefully picks up the first page. “Let’s see what our spooky correspondent has to say.”

He’s quickly absorbed in the story. Despite the faded and patchy ink, it’s surprisingly easy to read, once he gets into it, and the woman’s tale grips him in a way he can’t explain. Absently, he picks up a pen and slides over a notebook to begin jotting down notes to follow up on, inasmuch as he can follow up on something almost older than the Institute itself. It’s a challenge, and Tim likes a challenge.

“Christ,” he says on a sigh, setting down the last page of the letter at last. “That’s a weird one. Gonna be fun to follow up on. Whatcha got there, Marto?”

“Ah, it’s a statement regarding a—deep-dive, somewhere in Canada. Looks like a lot.” Martin angles the page towards Tim. “And look who’s involved.”

“Simon Fairchild,” Tim reads. “Didn’t…they mention him being related to one of the entities?”

“The Vast. I never thought about the deep sea being part of that, but…makes sense.” Martin checks the list he made. “Few names to follow up on. What about you? What’ve you got?”

“Cannibalism on the Oregon Trail. I thought it might’ve been the Stranger at first, but now it’s pretty obviously the Flesh.” Tim looks over at Sasha, who’s typing away on her computer. “Might need you to get on some of this, Sash.”

“One of these days I will get used to the two of you discussing these…things like you’re talking about what you watched on television over the weekend,” Sasha says without looking up. “Today is not that day.”

Martin winces. “Sorry.”

Sasha waves him off and holds out a hand. “Give me the names. Both of you. I can at least get started on that while you two dissect more statements.”

Tim rips off the top page of his notebook. Martin hesitates. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. Everything else I had for today is done.”

Martin shrugs and hands her his notes, then grabs the next file and flips it open.

They’re both about halfway through their second files when the door to Jon’s office opens. Tim looks up and for a minute is genuinely startled to see the scars dotting Jon’s face and hands, until his brain catches up with the fact that it’s Jon Prime. His eyes scan the group for a moment as he emerges behind their guest. “Sasha, can you escort Dr. Elliott out of the Archives, please?”

“Oh, no need, it’s a straight shot, after all.” Dr. Elliot balls something up in his hand. “Thank you for your time. Do let me know what you find.”

“Of course,” Jon Prime assures him, a bit stiffly.

They all watch Dr. Elliott stride up the stairs. Tim mentally counts off the number of steps to the main floor of the Institute, and once he’s sure Dr. Elliott is out, he turns to Jon Prime. “Was it real?”

“Oh, yes, it’s exactly the statement I thought it was,” Jon Prime says, a bit absently. “There won’t be much follow-up you can do, honestly. The names of all the students were basically the official placeholder names in several countries. They’re definitely creatures of the Stranger, anyway. You can speak to Elena Bower in the Kings College administration office if you’d like to confirm that the class actually happened, just for the form of things, but beyond that, a dead end.”

“Good, maybe Jon’ll let us focus on these,” Tim grunts, looking down at the paper in front of him. I also started to notice, on some of the pages, a faint scorching around the edges, though it would be some time before my own attempts to burn it proved how resilient it really was. “I know how much he loves anything involving Leitners.”

“You’ve got one, too?” Martin looks up from what he’s reading. “I’m assuming this is a Leitner in this one. Haven’t finished yet, but it’s definitely a book, and he—he mentions a library sticker that’s mostly missing.”

“Nobody’s said anything about a library sticker in this one, but it’s a creepy book full of eerily detailed stories of dead people, so I’m assuming,” Tim drawls.

Jon Prime peers over Tim’s shoulder. “Yes and no. Leitner really didn’t have…he was simply a librarian, of sorts. A—a collector. Not every book involving one of the Powers passed through his hands. I don’t believe that particular book was one of them.”

Tim looks up at Jon Prime. “The End?”

“I believe so, yes…Martin, which one do you have?”

“Um, Tales of a Field Hospital. I thought it was the End at first, but the things he talks about these soldiers dying of…it reads more like the Corruption to me.”

Jon Prime looks pleased, like he’s just received an answer from a prize student. “John Amherst. I remember that one. I think it was the third time I’d come across the name at that point.”

“It’s a new one by me,” Martin says, then pauses. “Wait, no—that nursing home we’ve been looking into, Ivy Meadows. Wasn’t John Amherst the man who took it over?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Sasha says, still absorbed in her computer. “Can’t find much about him, though, which probably should have been my first clue. The harder these people are to pin down, the closer they are to the entities, seems like.”

“You’re not wrong about that,” Jon Prime tells her. “The entities protect their own, and the longer-lived ones are quite good at covering their traces, for the most part.”

Tim snorts. “I would be, too, if I knew the Ring-Maker was going to scrutinize every possible reference someone else made to me and try and track me down.”

Martin points his pen at Tim, his face almost comically stern. “If you start calling this place Barad-dûr, I will dump you in a volcano myself.”

“You even got the accent right,” Tim says, unaccountably pleased.

“Nerds. You are both nerds,” Sasha announces, as if this is a great revelation and not the culmination of several years’ worth of observation.

Jon Prime shakes his head as if in exasperation, but he’s dropped the Head Archivist mask and he looks amused. “Right, well, that ought to keep me going for a bit. I’ll head back and send out—”

“’Scuse us.”

The voice startles Tim, and he looks up sharply to see two men standing in the Archives. He has no idea where they came from, or how they got into the Archives without any of them noticing, since they’re both big men. They’re dressed like typical delivery men, but there’s something about them that makes Tim’s blood run cold. One of them is carrying a clipboard. The other is carrying a package.

“Looking for the Archivist,” says the one holding the package. He has a Cockney accent, but it sounds a bit fake, like someone who’s watched Mary Poppins six hundred times and thinks Dick Van Dyke is actually British.

“I’m sorry, are you two meant—” Martin begins, standing up, which Tim thinks is rather brave of him. He stands, too, instinctively wanting to protect Martin and Sasha but not quite sure how he’s going to, especially since Martin seems to be trying to protect him.

“Won’t take up your time,” says the man with the clipboard.

“Just got a delivery,” adds the man with the package.

“Right, but you shouldn’t—” Martin tries.

“Package for Jonathan Sims.”

“Says right here.”

They toss the words back and forth, not exactly finishing each other’s sentences but definitely sounding as though they’re one person divided in two. It’s a bit dizzying and a lot disconcerting and Tim is unaccountably scared.

“I am the Archivist,” Jon Prime says. His voice is low and dangerous as he steps forward and physically puts himself between the two delivery men and the three assistants. It shouldn’t be intimidating, considering he’s literally the smallest person in the room, but he radiates an aura of power and subtle menace. For the first time, Tim truly understands what the Primes have been talking about…and what their Jon is afraid of becoming.

“Sign here,” the man with the clipboard says, thrusting it towards him.

“For the package,” the man with the package clarifies.

“Something else upstairs for you.”

“Lady at the desk signed for it.”

“You don’t need my signature,” Jon Prime says, and holds out his hand for the package.

“Sure we do.”

“That’s protocol.”

“Really,” Jon Prime says, sarcasm dripping from his tongue. “You thrive on anonymity and you won’t respect the desires of others to remain that way?” Static crackles in the air, and Tim finds himself taking a half-step closer to Martin, who reaches out and presses a hand flat against his back as if in comfort or support. “I Know who you are. I Know who you work for. I See you.”

The static rises in pitch, almost as bad as when Jon Prime tried to look into the Eye back in Tim’s living room. Tim winces and shrinks against Martin, grabbing for him without conscious thought. Martin grabs him back, evidently gritting his teeth against the pain. The two delivery men look upset, uncomfortable—scared. Tim almost sympathizes with them.

“What’re you doing?” asks one.

“Stop it,” the other orders, or tries to.

“Leave the package and go,” Jon Prime orders, and his voice has an almost hollow echo to it. “And leave them alone.”

The one with the package practically throws it at him. Jon Prime lets it fall to the ground at his feet and stares at the two men as they practically stumble over one another trying to get to the steps.

After a moment, the static vanishes as abruptly as it began, and Jon Prime’s shoulders slump as he takes a deep, shuddering breath. Tim realizes he’s clutching Martin like a drowning man, but he’s not particularly inclined to let go.

“You know, those statements won’t sustain you for long if you immediately expend all the energy you obtain from them,” Sasha observes. Tim blinks at her in astonishment. He has no clue how she can be so…calm after that, but there’s an intensity to her gaze and a brightness to her face that he doesn’t think was there before. “Who was that?”

“Breekon and Hope,” Jon Prime says softly. He bends down to pick up the package.

Martin eases up his death grip on Tim’s shirt, but doesn’t let go completely. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice wavering.

Tim’s not sure who he’s actually addressing, but Jon Prime answers. “I’m fine. I only scared them a bit. Put the fear of the Eye in them, I suppose, not that that’s entirely difficult.” He turns around and studies Tim and Martin, and his face softens. “Are you all right?”

“I-I think so.” Martin sounds uncertain. “Tim, are you…?”

“I don’t know,” Tim lies. He does know. He’s definitely not all right. He’s shaken to his core and he’s not sure if it’s from Jon Prime’s display of power or from the presence of the two delivery men or from Sasha being so into it or some combination of the three.

Martin tries to help Tim sit down, but Tim clings to him. He doesn’t really have it in himself to be embarrassed by it, either. Martin, thank God, doesn’t force the issue, just shifts his arms to comfort him a little better, even though Martin probably needs the comfort, too.

Jon Prime reaches out like he wants to put his hand on Tim’s shoulder, but stops just before he makes contact and draws back. Quietly, he says, “I’ll send your Jon up. I—I am sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s fine,” Tim says, and means it. He’s not afraid of Jon Prime, not really. What he can do, possibly, but not of him.

Jon Prime does touch his shoulder lightly, then Martin’s, before disappearing in the direction of the trapdoor. Tim closes his eyes and tries to focus on Martin murmuring soothing nonsense at him in the hopes that it will actually soothe him.

“Tim? Tim! Oh, God.” It’s Jon’s voice and suddenly Jon is there, awkwardly hugging Tim from behind. “Jon Prime told me—a-are you all right?”

“Getting there,” Tim mumbles. He frees one hand and grips the nearest one of Jon’s—it’s cold as ice, he’s got terrible circulation—and tucks his chin onto Martin’s shoulder.

The three of them stand like that for a few minutes, until Tim stops shaking and he feels his breathing even out. He takes a deep breath and slowly eases his grip on Martin and on Jon’s hand; obviously understanding, the other two let go of him, but they don’t go far.

“Better?” Martin asks gently.

Tim nods. “Thank you,” he says, his voice a bit hoarse, as he looks from Martin to Jon. He catches Sasha’s eye, from where she still sits behind her computer; she gives him a slightly guilty look, and he tries to smile to let her know he doesn’t judge her. He’s not sure he pulls it off.

Jon takes a half-step back and bunches the cuffs of his cardigan up in his hands—it may be July, but the climate control system in the Archives maintains a steady temperature to preserve the more delicate documents and it’s usually kind of chilly down here, so they’re definitely used to wearing sweaters or jackets year-round by now. “What happened? All Jon Prime said was that ‘the delivery came’ and he thought you might—” He breaks off, his eyes flicking back and forth between Martin and Tim, with a side trip to Sasha.

“Right after Dr. Elliott left, a couple of delivery men showed up,” Sasha tells him. She pushes something on the edge of her desk towards Jon, and it takes Tim a second to realize it’s the package the men threw at Jon Prime. “They delivered that, and also something upstairs that I think they had either Rosie or Manal sign for, probably Rosie. It’s addressed to you, anyway. Jon Prime stared them down and drew a bit on the Eye’s power to tell them to go away. I mean, they were a bit creepy, but they didn’t seem that bad. He said they were Breekon and Hope.”

“Bree—? Oh, God, the table,” Jon says softly, his eyes going wide. “It must have been the table. They said—oh, God.”

Sasha holds up a finger and pushes away from her desk. Tim watches her go, then turns to Jon with a little bit of trepidation. “What’s in that one?”

Jon opens the box gingerly, as if it might contain a bomb. What he pulls out, however, is an old lighter. It’s gold, or at least Tim thinks it’s gold for a second before he realizes it’s probably actually brass, and there’s a design on the front that looks like it might be a spiderweb. Jon holds it gingerly, like it might be going to attack him, which makes sense; the Web probably terrifies him as much as the Stranger scares Tim, and for a similar reason.

Martin’s face goes almost paper-white beneath his freckles. “That’s the—Martin Prime gave me that same lighter to set the fire when Jane Prentiss got in. Christ.”

Jon’s fingers curl lightly around the lighter, and he takes a deep breath, then slips it into his pocket just as Sasha returns with two folders. She waves the one in her left hand in Jon’s direction. “Leanne Denikin’s file, containing crime scene reports for both Joshua Drury and Henry Winchester.” She waves the right one. “Amy Patel’s statement, complete with description of the table. Do you want to run these up to Artifact Storage or do you want me to?”

“I—I probably ought to. It might carry more…emphasis coming from me, and after all, the table was addressed to me. In theory.” Jon takes the folders and frowns at the spines. “What’s this?”

“Oh, um, actually, I did that,” Martin says. “I’m starting to, anyway. I—I found all these colored labels in one of the filing cabinets last year, and, well, we weren’t using them so I just left them, but after—after everything, I just, well, I thought it might help us a bit if we could look at the files we’ve already done and know right away if they’re real or not and what they deal with, so I’ve been sort of trying to color-code them. There are only ten different colors, but I’m just combining for the higher numbers.” Jon actually smiles, for the first time since coming up from the tunnels. “That’s brilliant. Would you write out what your system is so we all know to start using it? I’ll—I’ll be right back.” His smile fades a little bit as he looks at Tim. “Are you all right now?”

“As all right as I will be, I guess.” Tim summons up a smile. “Thanks, boss.”

Jon pats his arm, a little awkwardly, then turns and heads for the steps. They all watch him go for a minute, then Sasha turns to Martin. “Right, explain this system of yours.”

It’s at once simple and ingenious, a basic combination of numbers and colors that nevertheless paints a vivid picture. Martin even designated the zero alone for those statements that are demonstrably false. It does mean they’re going to need a lot of zeroes, but Martin’s right, it will help a lot. And it’s not like they have to publicize what those labels mean. On those rare occasions that researching students need the files, they can just say it’s an internal filing system and leave it at that. Once Martin’s explained it, Sasha offers to start putting labels on those files they’ve already researched and recorded while Martin and Tim go back to sorting through the files Martin Prime evidently gathered for them.

Jon returns with the two files under his arm, looking a bit peaked, and Martin immediately sets aside the file and gets up to make tea. Tim offers him a crooked grin, which he actually returns, then turns to Jon. “All right?”

“I don’t know.” Jon sits on the edge of Tim’s desk and sets the files down carefully, out of the way of Tim’s work. “Elias turned up while I was trying to convince Dr. Bradley I wasn’t playing around. He agreed with me that the table was dangerous, but suggested it ought to be destroyed. I—I don’t know if I made much sense when I said I wanted to be sure it could be done safely. I hope I didn’t let on that I know more than I ought to.”

Tim doesn’t want to say it, but he feels like he has to. “If he can read minds…”

“I know. I’m almost positive that’s why he came in when he did. Dr. Bradley did at least promise not to have any of his practical researchers touch the table.” Jon sighs heavily, then accepts the cup of tea from Martin with a quiet thanks and a smile. “What are you two working on?”

“Martin dug out the files Martin Prime gathered for us,” Tim informs him. He turns to Martin in surprise when Martin hands him his own cup of tea, then takes it and lets the warmth soak into his palms. “We’ve been reading through them and trying to get an idea of what we’re dealing with. Sasha started running down some of the names we came up with, but right now we’re just…skimming, I guess.”

“What have you found so far?” Jon asks, sounding both interested and cautious.

“We’ve gone through two each and just started our third,” Martin says. “One Vast, one Flesh, one End, one Corruption. And then…these two.” He gestures at the file in front of him and the one open on Tim’s desk. “I’m…actually still not completely sure about this one. She’s talking about insomnia, and it does seem…odd? But I can’t figure out which one it falls under. Not yet. I’m only just getting into it, though…what’s yours, Tim?”

“Actually, I don’t know either.” Tim frowns at the statement he’s been reading. “I think this one might be a dud. I mean—he’s blind, and he’s not…he said it was just what he felt was real. He could be wrong, right? This looks like an old soldier playing a prank. It’s going on about the devil being part of the British army, and I’m pretty sure that’s an Irish folk song, but—” He turns the page and blinks. “Hang on, this isn’t—this is a different handwriting. What the…?” He skims the second page quickly, then his eyes widen as it hits him. “Christ, I think this is more from Trevor Herbert.”

“The vampire hunter?” Martin asks, startled, setting aside his papers and coming to look over Tim’s shoulder. “I could’ve sworn he—I-I mean, I never met him or anything, but I thought they said he lay down and never woke up.”

“Maybe they only meant he should never have woken up,” Jon says, peering over Tim’s other shoulder. “Or—well, it’s dated the same day as the earlier statement, look. Maybe he just lay down later than you thought he did.”

“Maybe.” Martin sounds vaguely distressed.

Tim squeezes his hand. “It’s okay. You know we don’t expect you to know everything about what goes on at the Institute, right? I mean, there are like two hundred people working here. Even after ten years, you can’t know them all.”

Martin manages a smile in reply. Jon nods and reaches for the papers. “Here, I’ll—do you mind if I take those? Since they don’t go in this folder, after all.”

Tim hands the pages over. “I really do think the rest of this is fake, though. Probably got mis-filed. I no longer doubt Martin Prime’s statement senses, but I’m guessing that those pages there were what he sensed in this file.”

“You’re probably right. Set that one aside for now.”

Tim closes the remains of the file and grabs another. He opens it, glances at the first page, sees the words urban exploration, and can’t help the sudden, sharp intake of breath. He waves off his friends’ concern, though. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I’ve got this.” For now, anyway, he thinks but doesn’t say.

Maybe he doesn’t have to. They all go back to what they’re doing, but Jon stays out with the rest of them until it’s time for them to start lunch breaks. And they don’t let Tim go anywhere alone for the rest of the day.

He’s more grateful for that than he would have thought.

#ollie writes fanfic #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#tma #the magnus archives #breekon & hope #panic attack tw #I love Tim with my entire #despite what I keep doing to him

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falloutboywife · 4 years

Note

do u have any fob fic recs?

HEWWO YES i have a fuckton of fics to rec, i mostly just read peterick ones (i can’t find a lot of wentzporta or the rarest of rarepairs: stumporta, but i wanna start seeing if i can find any good trohley or joetrick fics) but i have an INSANE amount that i can suggest, i’ll link them and then offer a summary and tags for the content.

disclaimer: i don’t know if you were asking for nsfw fics but that’s like. all that i ever read unless it’s a REALLY good fic or character study or things like that. i’m also gonna warn that some of these are very dark because i like stories that tackle dark themes and a lot of them uh. let’s just say i like tttyg and futct a lot because i love the lore and dynamics surrounding the band in its early days so the eras i like to read fics about will reflect that

there are some in this list that are decidedly more normal than others, and even if some of the tags i mention sound like the fic is gonna be messed up, i can assure you there are way more fics lighter in tone than others in this list. like if a fic is BAD i mention it

I APOLOGIZE IN ADVANCE IF THIS ISN’T WHAT YOU WERE ASKING also these are in the order that i was able to find them so the quality/how much i like it isn’t in order

https://adellyna.livejournal.com/358618.html this one is about pete letting patrick drink for his seventeeth birthday, warnings for underage up the wazoo

https://adellyna.livejournal.com/355836.html patricksitting is like, THE peterick fic it’s about pete being patrick’s babysitter while his parents are out of town, again underage tag

https://adellyna.livejournal.com/350184.html ANOTHER fic about pete letting underage patrick drink but this time? pete’s recording him. warnings for underage shit and potential dubcon (i wouldn’t call it that bc it’s not how i interpreted it but the author tagged it, so)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/254157 this is a dance dance au where patrick fucks nerd!pete

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045467 this fic is SO good it’s about the time where pete and patrick got into that really bad fight behind the convenience store while on tour, the one where pete choked patrick so hard he couldn’t sing the next day, this one has like. fight sex i guess is the term. i guess you could call this a darkfic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/522666 this is one of my favorites, it’s about pete kidnapping babystump and patrick developing stockholm syndrome but i PROMISE it is way more heartwarming than that, it’s not a hardcore kidnapping darkfic i swear. underage warning WOW THERE’S A LOT OF THESE

https://archiveofourown.org/works/239403 this is one of the funniest fucking fics i ever read, the premise is that pete pretends to be patrick’s boyfriend to piss patrick’s parents off. underage warning yet again

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25420678 this one is short but literally anything by this author is great, this is @castleinthsky here on tumblr. wilson is a fantastic author and i wish she wrote more, i’d literally read a novel if she wrote it, same with adellyna on lj. this is about pete lusting after patrick but it’s all just him masturbating to the idea of him, underage warning YET AGAIN

https://archiveofourown.org/works/158907 this one is about pete and patrick right after a show fucking in one of the hallways

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1069202 OH GOD THIS ONE IS SO FUCKING HOT this is one where pete is super controlling over patrick during sex he acts like a fucking scumbag it’s SO sexy but The Ending Will Warm Your Heart. i know this one is van days so it MIGHT be underage because i’m just a fucking creep i guess

https://archiveofourown.org/works/443472 okay this is one of my favorite fics of all time, this is part two in a series the author wrote about the idea of patrick having a twin brother, the first one is shorter and just introduces you to the idea but the second one is a fully fleshed out story and i love it so fucking much, you should seriously check this one out because this is one of the best fics out there period. warning for underage and incest YES I’M AWARE OF WHAT I’M LINKING PLEASE GIVE ME A BREAK

inb4 “nyan do you read any fics that aren’t weird as shit” PLEASE I JUST WANNA BE HAPPY

https://archiveofourown.org/works/9871037 this is also by castleinthsky and it’s a lot more tame than what i linked before, this is just a cute 2008 fic where they’re on their way to the next town at night and patrick is drunk in the back with pete

https://archiveofourown.org/works/4373366 okay this one is a double whammy and also one of my favorite aus, this is 2011 patrick and 2007 pete. i LOVE the idea of different eras with each other, like i love the idea of post-hiatus pete and patrick ganging up on one of their younger selves and this one specifically is 2011 trick with 2007 pete. the same author ALSO wrote...

https://archiveofourown.org/works/4168323 this, which is literally just post-hiatus pete and patrick fucking babystump. it is so goddamn good warnings for selfcest and underage yaddah yaddah you get the point by now

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24333673 this is like the creepiest fic on this list, it’s straight up just pete being a creep (i loooove creepy pete so much if you haven’t noticed) and hypersexualizing van days trick and i feel like at this point i don’t need to warn you what’s in it

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163036 this is just really rough peterick sex but i also like stories where patrick is a fucking violent bitch so i’m throwing it in here. i love brattystump so much

https://archiveofourown.org/works/4307196 this is a two-part series that is also, that’s right, about patrick starring in a sex tape but this time instead of his consent being very dubious, he’s doing it intentionally as a gift for pete. i think patrick is 17 in this

i am deeply considering not even posting this list at this point because of how many times i’ve used the term “underage” to describe one of these. i swear to god it’s not how it looks

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20685 OKAY. BEWENTZED. THIS IS MY NUMBER ONE FAVORITE PETERICK FIC AND IT’S ONE OF MY FAVORITE FICS OF ALL TIME it’s like this REALLY long form bewitched au sort of thing where pete is the literal devil and he gives patrick seven wishes, but each wish patrick makes is turned into a lesson about how he can’t force friendships or fame or success and pete twists them in a way that backfires in his face. this is seriously one of the best fucking fics i’ve ever read and even though patrick is in high school in this PLEASE ignore that if that squicks you out because this fic is fucking legendary. this and patricksitting are CRUCIAL to the peterick extended universe

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32760 this is a short one where patrick needs to get laid but the only person around who can do it is pete because joe won’t make a direct offer and he’s pretty sure andy is far from interested

https://archiveofourown.org/works/335389 eden burns is another legendary fic that’s about pete treating patrick like shit as the two are growing up together, this has triggers up the fucking ass so i’d really suggest reading the tags and summary before reading this but it deals heavily with the psychological aspects of molestation rather than just as a kink thing. it’s THAT kind of dark fic i fucking love it i love looking completely insane

https://jamjar.livejournal.com/99731.html OKAY A FIC WHERE IT’S NOT PATRICK THAT’S IN HIGH SCHOOL FOR ONCE this is an age reversal fic and while it doesn’t explore the potential of the idea as much as i’d like it’s still a really good read, it’s about patrick and pete switching ages and it builds an entire setting around that, where pete goes to high school with joe and patrick is trying to establish himself as a musician with andy. pete is a very angsty and emotional teen in this it’s so good

https://swear-jar.livejournal.com/697877.html OH THIS IS A FIC I SERIOUSLY JUST DISCOVERED this one is sooooo fucking hot it’s so weird, it really elaborates on when pete was unmedicated when he was younger so the logic in this one is super fun to figure out. i love fics that try their own interpretation of pete when he was unmedicated and unstable because it’s so fascinating trying to explore his psychology in a safe and creative environment, and i relate to a lot of stories like these because i have bipolar like pete and when it was unmedicated while i was younger it destroyed my fucking life so i understand a lot of the things he used to do or say about himself, anyway in this fic he jerks off to patrick in his sleep without him knowing so warnings for that and for vomit. i wouldn’t call this a darkfic just really bizarre and i love it for that

https://giddygeek.livejournal.com/138523.html and this is the last rec i have for now, it’s another dance dance au where both pete and patrick gang up on nerd patrick and it’s very cute

please don’t be mean to me i pay my taxes on time and i vote democrat and bernie should have won the nomination instead of biden

#fic rec tag

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tonystarkbingo · 3 years

Photo

TSB MIV Week 24 Roundup!

Lots of fills this week, in part because of our last Discord party from this round! Some awesome stuff up ahead, so go spread some love!

Title: Extra Chocolate Chips Collaborator: rebelmeg Card Number: 4034 Link: AO3 Square Filled: K5 - Sharon Carter / Agent 13 Ship: Tony & Aunt Peggy, Tony & Sharon Carter Rating: Gen Major Tags: grief/mourning, angst, hurt/comfort, family, baking Summary: The New Year’s Eve after Tony’s parents die is a rough one. Aunt Peggy refuses to let him spend it alone, and his favorite little cousin has a great suggestion to lift his mood. Word Count: 1245

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Title: Road Rash Collaborator: newnewyorker93 Card Number: 4042 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: K3 - Trapped in the Armour Ship: None Rating: Gen Major Tags: Art, Iron Man 2 Summary: Pencil drawing of Tony with the palladium poisoning “high-tech crossword puzzle” on his neck, based off a screenshot from Iron Man 2. Word Count: N/A

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Title: No Time Like the Peasant Collaborator: 27dragons Card Number: 4027 Link: AO3 Square Filled: K4 - Reincarnation Ship: WinterIron Rating: Teen Major Tags: Carnival midway, Fluff, Fortune Teller Summary: Apparently, having failed to succumb to the carnival’s midway barkers thanks to Bucky’s uncanny sense of aim, the phony fortune tellers were going to take a turn trying to separate them from their money. Word Count: 448

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Title: By Design Collaborator: periwinklepromise Card Number: 4053 Link: AO3 Square Filled: S4 - Faulty Programming Ship: Dum-E & Tony Stark Rating: Teen Major Tags: Anti Team Cap Summary: He's functioning exactly as he's programmed,” Tony defends quickly. One must wonder, is he defending himself or his creation? Word Count: 638

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Title: With a Twist Collaborator: SomeSortofItalianRoast Card Number: 4036 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Adopted - Lemon Ship: None Rating: Gen Major Tags: AU: No Powers, AU: Coffee shop Summary: It’s Lemon Day at Wide Awake. Neither Steve nor Happy are amused. Word Count: 646

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Title: On Ice Collaborator: ABrighterDarkness Card Number: 4074 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: R4 - Date in the Park Ship: Stony Rating: G Major Tags: Moodboard Summary: It had been years since Tony had gone ice skating and the last time had been memorable for all of the wrong reasons. Of course Steve had convinced him to try again. And it was memorable too, this time for all the right reasons. Word Count: N/A

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Title: Extra Chocolate Chips Moodboard Collaborator: rebelmeg Card Number: 4034 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Adopted - Art Format: Digital Medium Ship: Tony & Sharon & Peggy Rating: Gen Major Tags: moodboard, based on fic Summary: moodboard for my fic “Extra Chocolate Chips” with tiny!Sharon cheering up a grieving Tony with help from Aunt Peggy. Word Count: N/A

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Title: If the Stars Should Appear Collaborator: starktrekkingaroundasgard Card Number: 4048 Link: AO3 Square Filled: T2 - Paparazzi Ship: Tony Stark/F!Reader Rating: Mature Major Tags: Paparazzi, Charity Auctions, Suggestive Themes, Flirting, Fluff, First Kiss, First Dates Summary: Following Tony’s invitation to a charity auction, the reader finds herself uncomfortably out of place on the red carpet. However, she learns that with the right company these events aren’t quite so bad after all. Word Count: 3049

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Title: The Four Question Problem Collaborator: remreader Card Number: 4042 Link: AO3 Square Filled: S3 - Pseudo-Villain Ship: Tony Stark. & Steve Rogers Rating: Gen Major Tags: Drabble, Humour, Passover Summary: It's Passover at Avengers Tower and Tony and Steve are bickering. Because why should this night be different than any other night? Word Count: 100

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Title: An unlikely friendship Collaborator: Gottalovev Card Number: 4077 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: A3 - Free Ship: Tony Stark & Nebula Rating: Gen Major Tags: Moodboard Summary: He felt as if she needed a win. And, maybe for the first time in her life, a friend. Tony's kindness meant more to Nebula that he'd ever know. Word Count: N/A

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Title: Food Coma Collaborator: eachpeachpearplum Card Number: 4003 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Adopted - Coma Ship: N/A Rating: Gen Major Tags: Food Coma, Pizza, Clint Barton Summary: One day, Clint will learn to stop at one pizza. One day… Word Count: N/A

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Title: the best babysitters Collaborator: eachpeachpearplum Card Number: 4003 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Adopted - Peggy Carter Ship: N/A Rating: Gen Major Tags: Art, Peggy Carter, Edwin Jarvis, tiny Tony, fluff Summary: Howard and Maria are, as ever, too busy to look after their son. Luckily, Tony has the best godparents in the world. A day at the park is just what they all need. Word Count: N/A

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Title: Happy Scrubbing Time Collaborator: Gottalovev Card Number: 4077 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: R1 - Cleaning Ship: Stony Rating: Gen Major Tags: None Summary: Cap-Tsum loves when Iron-Tsum uses the toothbrush at bath time! Word Count: N/A

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Title: Stuffed Marvel Sketch - Iron Man Noir Tony Collaborator: PoliZ Card Number: 4007 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Adopted - Noir Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: none Summary: Stuffed Marvel sketch of Tony Stark based on the Iron Man Noir run Word Count: N/A

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Title: The Dumb Jocks, Cute Butts Club Collaborator: ceealaina Card Number: 4008 Link: AO3 Square Filled: T3 - AU: Rivals Ship: Gen Rating: Teen Major Tags: Humour, Team as Family, Crack Treated (Semi) Seriously Summary: Rhodey, Bucky, and Bruce bond over the absolute idiots in their lives. (AKA I got drunk and hate-watched Endgame, and then this happened.) Word Count: 848

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Title: Who I Am Inside Collaborator: 27dragons Card Number: 4027 Link: AO3 Square Filled: T1 - Super Soldier Serum Ship: Stony Rating: T Major Tags: A/B/O Dynamics, Secrets, Getting Together Summary: Tony and Steve fight a lot, which is only natural when two alphas are on the same team. Clint thinks there’s another reason for all the tension between them. Word Count: 1326

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Title: the weight of all these dreams of mine Collaborator: peachy Card Number: 4017 Link: AO3 Square Filled: R3 - Cliche Ship: Stony Rating: Gen Major Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending Summary: It shouldn’t be enough to undo him, spilled tea in the early morning hours, but standing there, looking at the mess on the floor, still haunted by his dream and the countless sleepless nights that lay before it, Steve feels something in his chest tighten and splinter. Word Count: 1495

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Title: This Is Not Work, Only Creation Collaborator: periwinklepromise Card Number: 4053 Link: AO3 Square Filled: T5 - AU: Artist/Muse Ship: Natasha & Tony Rating: Gen Major Tags: None Summary: Natalia Romanova is the best principal ballerina Tony has ever had the honor of composing for. With her, it is not work, only a shared creation. Word Count: 100

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Title: Fashion Forward Collaborator: 27dragons Card Number: 4027 Link: AO3 Square Filled: R3 - Mandarin Ship: None Rating: Gen Major Tags: AvAc, Jan is a Good Bro, Fashion Advice, Borrowing Heavily from RDJ’s Fashion Disasters Summary: Jan, I need you to get over here now,” Tony begged, eyes locked on the mirror.“What kind of emergency is it?” Jan asked. “Are the Hulks all trying to fit in the hot tub? Galina asked you on a date again? Hydra is tunneling under the hot dog stand?”“Worse than that.” Word Count: 412

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Title: Happy Endings Collaborator: JehBeeEh Card Number: 4058 Link: AO3 Square Filled: R4 - Intimacy Without Sex Ship: Stony Rating: Teen Major Tags: Tooth-rotting fluff and softness Summary: Steve gives his husband a massage Word Count: 929

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Title: Into the Time Slip Collaborator: RoseRose Card Number: 4022 Link: AO3 Square Filled: R2 - Image: Jarvis Ship: Pepper/Steve/Tony Rating: G Major Tags: Time loop, BAMF Pepper Potts, Previous Temporary Character Death (cause time loops) Summary: Pepper has been looping through this day an innumerable number of times. This time, she was going to fix it. And then she and Tony and Steve were going to talk. She was tired of hiding. Word Count: 4519

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Title: my house of stone, your ivy grows (and now I'm covered in you) Collaborator: chel Card Number: 4011 Link: AO3 Square Filled: T3 - Reverse Soulmates Ship: IronHusbands Rating: G Major Tags: Reverse Soulmates Summary: Reverse Soulmate AU where when you meet a person who's meant to betray you, their name appears on your body. Also a Soulmate AU where when you meet your soulmate (platonic or romantic) their name also appears on your body. -- Tony let himself be pulled into Rhodey’s arms and sagged against him. Safe, his mind whispered. For the first time in three months Tony finally felt safe. It was a fucking shame the man holding him was bound to break his heart. -- Tony has two different names on his arms. Obie's on the left, and Rhodey's on the right. He's entirely certain Obie wasn't going to betray him. So how did he end up in love with Rhodes? Word Count: 3888

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Title: Good New Stories Collaborator: JehBeeEh Card Number: 4058 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Adopted - Christine Everheart Ship: Christine Everheart & Tony Stark Rating: Teen Major Tags: N/A Summary:Christine runs into Tony Stark and proposes a Vanity Fair cover story with the worlds most famous Superhusbands Word Count: 626

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Title: It’s Always the Quiet Ones Collaborator: Faustess Card Number: 4059 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Adopted - Bodysharing Ship: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: Sharing a Body, Awkward Dates Summary: Tony Stark and Stephen Strange have had some kind of magical ...mishap. Now they are both sharing Tony's body and Tony's late for his first date with the former Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes. What could go wrong? Or more probably, what wouldn't go wrong? Word Count: 2025

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Title: When is a Goose not a Goose? (When it’s a Fury) Collaborator: MagicaDraconia16 Card Number: 4019 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Adopted - Wingfic Ship: Nick Fury & Avengers Team Rating: Teen Major Tags: Humor, animal transformation, bodyswap, cats Summary: Tony Stark hates magic.Nick Fury isn't too fond of it right now, either. Word Count: 2113

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Title: Must Be True Love Collaborator: ralsbecket Card Number: 4056 Link: AO3 Square Filled: R4 - Photoshoot Ship: Stony Rating: Teen Major Tags: Texting, Digital Art, Superfamily, Cheeky Steve Rogers, Pranks Summary: Steve decides to play a prank on Tony before their yearly Christmas card photoshoot. Word Count: 795

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Title: Endless Collaborator: RoseRose Card Number: 4022 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Adopted - marriage Ship: Stucky Rating: Gen Major Tags: Poetry, Judaism Summary: Jewish Bucky reflecting on his relationship with Stev Word Count: 182

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Title: Pretty Boy [!Moodboard] Collaborator: DarthBloodOrange Card Number: 4022 Link: AO3 Square Filled: R4 - KINK: Body Modification Ship: Stony Rating: Mature Major Tags: Sexual content, Body Modification (piercings), Nudity, Swearing Summary: Tony loves getting Steve little gifts to adorn himself with. Word Count: 200

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Title: Take my words, my heart, my love [!Moodboard] Collaborator: DarthBloodOrange Card Number: 4022 Link: AO3 Square Filled: A4 - AU: Historic Ship: Stony Rating: Gen Major Tags: Moodboard + 100 Words Summary: Tony writes, his head swimming with love and dreamings of a possible future. Word Count: 100

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Title: Cold Crash [!Moodboard] Collaborator: DarthBloodOrange Card Number: 4022 Link: AO3 Square Filled: S5 - Huddling for Warmth Ship: Stony Rating: Teen Major Tags: Blood and Injury, swearing, moodboard Summary: Steve and Tony crash into a snowy mountain. Thankfully Tony finds them a cabin to take shelter in. Word Count: 565

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Title: Speed Demon Collaborator: DarthBloodOrange Card Number: 4022 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Adopted - All's well that ends well Ship: Stony Rating: Gen Major Tags: drabble Summary: Tony didn't care how quick they got there, or how 'efficient and effective' the man's driving was, he was never going to get into a vehicle driven by Steve Rogers ever again. Word Count: 100

#tonystarkbingomarkiv #tsbmiv #tsb weekly roundup #tsb week 24

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