#i say all over again but i never finish lightning returns | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

puck-bunnies · 4 months

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behind closed doors

umich!luke hughes x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw 18+, fingering, praising, choking, not proof read

word count: 2.3k

me and luke were never much of friends, never even talked much. at least, that’s what everyone thought. no one ever knows what happens behind closed doors.

i have not used this app in forever, meaning i haven’t written a fic in quite a long time so this is me trying to get back into writing. sorry if this is not great and a little rushed, i just haven’t written anything in like five months. anyways, try to enjoy this fic and ill try to write more as soon as i can.

i sit in the living room of my best friends boyfriends house, she sits beside me as all of ethan’s roommates take up every other seat. the lightning vs islanders game plays on the tv, having all of our eyes glued to it.

the boys are in a constant state of yelling, wether is celebrating, yelling at how stupid the refs are, or booing the other team. i’m not as invested as usual, my teams aren’t playing, but ill never miss an opportunity to a hockey game.

my mind also focuses on the close proximity as luke sits beside me, our thighs lightly rubbing against each other ever so softly. the warm summer weather left me wearing shorts and a tank top, causing luke’s hand to glide across my bare skin as he secretly places his hand on my thigh.

i never intended on sneaking around with luke, it all just happened one day, the house was empty and quiet. we got to talking, venturing from subjects like our classes, plans for our future, and somehow turning into our sex life.

he learned that i’ve never really gotten quite what i need, never feeling that spark with any guy that i’ve been with. them never wanting to try anything i’ve wanted to, i’ve never been fully satisfied.

he continued to tell me how he has slept around quite a bit. nearly almost always leaving the rink with some new blonde puck bunny stuck to his arm. he didn’t wear it as a trophy, or say that he regretted any of it, all just saying it’s apart of his past. his history he can’t and won’t change.

one thing led to another, his hands roaming my body as my lips bit down on his. my hands squeezing the mattress tightly with every moan escaping my lips.

we didn’t even stop there, whenever we could find a time to be alone, we were tangled in each others arms.

here we are now, not even able to keep our hands to ourselves in sight of one another. i try to shake his hand off, not wanting any of the surrounding eyes to see his intimate gesture. he doesn’t move, squeezing my skin harder. i softly pierce my bottom lip with my teeth, try to calm my nerves. i can feel heat bubbling up to my face, painting my cheeks with a faint blush.

my eyes peer over to him, giving him a pleading look to start behaving. he doesn’t budge, giving me a side smirk before returning his eyes on the game.

rutger groans loudly as the 2nd period finishes, “fuck the lightning.” he swears as they’re pulling a 4-1 lead. he chugs back the rest of his beer, throwing the can on the ground in some grown man temper tantrum.

the ads run during the commercial break, leaving the rest of us to disregard the television for the time being. my heart starts to quicken, without their distraction of the game they’re eyes could fall upon luke’s hand on me.

my mind tries to work fast, but the only thing i can think of doing is grabbing the blanket next to me and covering myself with it, concealing us from the wandering eyes. luke’s lips curl into a smirk, proud of me not forcing him off, knowing that i want it. that i want him.

his hand becomes bolder, rubbing up and down my inner thigh. i bite my bottom lip again, trying to stabilize myself from this new feeling. his fingers become more adventurous, going to the hem of my shorts.

“fuck.” i softly mumble to myself, luke’s soft chuckle tells me that he hears my light groans. his fingers don’t stop there, rubbing up to the bottom of my shirt, toying with the cotton material.

the pads of his fingers brush against my sensitive skin, right across the bottom of my stomach. fire engulfs my stomach, my breath hitches as he rubs softly back and forth, tickling my skin.

the game comes back for the final period, my eyes keep trained on the hockey game, but my mind can only focus on his touch as it drives me insane.

he feels my stomach hitch with my breath, he knows i want him so badly, he knows what he does to me. i squeeze my thighs together, trying to cause some type of sensation in my growing wetness.

i can’t take his teasing fingers anymore, “meet me in my room.” i whisper to him. rising from the couch and walking away from the crowded living room. i head for the direction of the bathroom, making them hear my footsteps as i lead their ears to the door closing. i stay outside the bathroom, tiptoeing to my room in an unsteady waiting of luke.

the door finally opens, luke quickly closing the door silently behind him. a deep breath is all i can hear from him, turning around to look at me patiently sitting on the foot of my bed. he takes a seat beside me, quickly gripping my hips and pulling me onto his lap.

“it’s been awhile since we’ve been alone,” my fingers rake up the back of his head, through his soft brown hair, my finger swirling around a curly lock. “too long.” a soft sigh parts from his lips as my fingers lightly scratch at his scalp.

he keeps his hands on my hips, roughly gripping at my denim shorts. “i missed your hands all over me. you can’t tease me out there and not expect me to want more.”

our bodies come closer, our lips so close together, our hearts syncing their beats. i can barely hold myself back from making up that final inch. “tell me how badly you want me.”

“i want you..” he shyly gives into my need. it’s not enough for me, i feed off of hearing how badly he wants me, his hands rubbing up and down my body, the feeling of his cock being buried deep inside me.

“oh yeah…” my lips attach to his neck, softly kissing down from his jaw.

finally he gives in, “i want to feel you against me, your lips on mine, every inch of your beautiful body baby.”

a devilish smirk spreads on my face, “mmm, is that right?” i mumble against his neck, softly sinking my teeth into his sensitive skin, sucking the spot to soothe it after.

“oh god yes.” luke practically moans out. his hands become adventurous, slowly going down to hold my ass in his hands, gripping at my clothed skin. they make their way down farther, gripping at my exposed thighs while my kisses go back up his jaw.

i crave for his taste, forcefully pressing my lips against his in a hungry state. my tongue quickly sliding into his mouth, hands combing through his messy curls, pushing him closer into me. he guides my hips back and forth on him, i can feel him hardening underneath me.

breaking the kiss to catch my breath, i drop my head onto his shoulders as i feel his hands press against my pussy. my hips still grind on him, but instead of just on his hard cock, it’s on his fingers. “mmm, you want me that bad?” he chuckles, i nod against his shoulder.

he undoes my shorts, exposing the top of my pink lacy panties, his fingers drag down them, going farther into my pants. they settle on my wetness, my hips stop rocking, focusing on the closer touch. “god you’re soaked.”

my lip sticks to my teeth in a harsh lip bite, my walls clench around nothing, begging to be filled by him. his fingers work slow and teasingly, rubbing circles around my clothed clit, watching me squirm on top of him. my back slightly arches, legs slowly opening wider for him to have better access to my aching pussy. “needy, are we?”

i softly whimper, my hips start to grind again, craving more attention from his teasingly slow hands. his fingers move the crotch of my panties aside, touching my wetness with his bare fingers, feeling my folds and them dripping for him. my head lifts off his shoulder, taking a glance down at his hand stuffed down my pants, looking back deep into his eyes.

i take a deep breath out, without a single warning he thrusts a finger in my pussy. making me loudly squeal with surprise. he quickly covers my mouth, stopping his finger in me. “you have to be quiet princess, you don’t want us getting caught, now do you?” he asks. i shake my head no, he hums at my obedience. “good girl.” his voice is in a whisper, softly praising me.

he begins to move his finger once again, letting me adjust to the new sensation before adding another, stretching me out for him. curling his fingers up to my g-spot. finally trusting me enough not to scream, he moves his hand off of my face, settling it down on my hip to keep me steady.

my hands grasp at his curly locks, trying to compose myself. as he adds another finger i bite down on my bottom lip, trying to keep the wanting moans from escaping my lips. a smirk spreads across luke’s face, watching what he can do to me with just his hands. i curse under my breath, dropping my head down to keep my brain straight, the pleasure slowly becoming less bearable.

his fingers quicken, hand comes off my hip and to my chin, lifting my head to force me to stare back into his eyes. “look at me while i’m finger fucking you baby.” my teeth puncture my bottom lip harder, my chest heaving with all the moans i keep to myself. i slip up and let on me out, hard hands hit my throat, softly squeezing. “i thought i told you to keep quiet?”

his grip loosens to allow me to take a breath, closing back up as soon as my chest rises. another finger slips in my cunt, my legs start to squirm, toes curling and hands squeezing his hair. his fingers losen from my throat, falling down to the straps of my tank top. he pulls one strap off each shoulder, one at a time. hooking two fingers at the neckline and pulling down, my tits falling out from my lack of wearing a bra.

he wastes no time before gripping my breast, rubbing his thumb over the sensitive bud. i clench around his fingers, my senses overloading with pleasure. he lowers his head, kitty licking my other nipple. i softly moan, not loud enough for luke to get me in trouble again, but enough for him to know the things he’s doing to me.

my stomach clenches, the feeling i know very well as my head starts to feel light. “i’m so close.” i whimper out. luke doesn’t let up, switching to my other breast, sucking on the nipple before softly biting the skin.

my whole body clenches as i feel my climax, luke’s quick fingers curling inside me quickly. it all comes raining down, my pussy clenching around him as i coat his fingers with myself. he backs up, letting me heave and fall down on his chest to catch my breath.

i quietly curse under my breath, squeezing my eyes shut to recover from my high. i life my head back up to look luke in the eyes. he removes his fingers from my folds, fingers coated with my cum. he slides his fingers into his mouth, licking them clean. my breath catches in my throat again, god damn he makes me want more.

“you’re such a good girl Y/N.” he pops his fingers out of his mouth, “i wish i could fuck you silly right now. but i want to keep all those precious moans to myself, when we can be completely alone.”

before i can even react to his words he puts his lips back onto mine, slipping his tongue in my mouth to let me taste myself. his fingers plant back onto my hips, helping me up to my feet so he can get out from underneath me.

“you go get yourself cleaned up and meet me back in the living room. i pray we weren’t gone too long for anyone to notice.” he whispers, fixing my hair from the sweat that beads on my forehead.

i nod to his words, giving him one last little kiss before he silently slips out of my bedroom. my try to regain my normal breathing patterns, my brain still fuzzy from my previous orgasm.

i obey luke’s wishes, tiptoeing to the bathroom to clean myself off. splashing water into my face to try to remove my blushing red cheeks. i walk back out to the bathroom, seeing everyone engrossed in the final minutes of the third period. i thankfully sigh, slipping back between the guys to sit back down beside luke. he offers me a light smirk, we both then back to the television, watching the game unfold.

#luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes x you #luke hughes imagine #nhl imagine #luke hughes fic #nhl fanfiction #luke hughes one shot #puck-bunnies

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slicznymartwy · 10 months

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stand by your man

You’re not sure how much time passes, but it’s certainly been long enough for your selfish cat to have had its snack and returned.

tags: first meetings, cannibalism, thomas hewitt wears a face in this one guys, canon-typical violence, misogyny, slut shaming, fluff and angst, ambiguous/open ending, i mean to me its happy but yk, bad guys win sort of ending notes: second person pov – cis fem reader with some defined traits (tall, midsized, long hair). everything else is up to interpretation. i'm sorry if this fic seems really cruel towards thomas :( i love him i promise

read on ao3

Humid felt like an understatement on a day like today. Walking inside your little wooden shack felt like swimming in pond water, thick and stagnant. The morning wasn’t so bad but, before lunchtime, you had thrown open every window on the chance that a breeze would sweep through, even if it was only for a moment.

But there’s no wind today, which leads you and your old orange cat sitting like panting dogs out on the front porch. Your stomach growls, but you can’t imagine getting up and cooking for yourself like this. You want some soda fountain ice cream, but downtown is a long walk and the drugstore has been closed down for a few months anyhow.

Groaning, you roll onto your side and daydream about frothy root beer floats. You’re so deep in your fantasy that you hardly notice when your cat scrambles onto her feet, faster than summer lightning, and books it out the dusty yard on the heels of a field mouse.

“Goddamn it, Peanut,” you say to nobody, watching her go with a disappointed sigh. She must’ve been starving to run like that in this heat. You watch her go and go until she runs into the grass. Then you don’t see her at all.

You’re not sure how much time passes, but it’s certainly been long enough for your selfish cat to have had its snack and returned.

“Peanut?” you call out, sitting up. She’s nowhere to be seen, not even in the shady live oak a stone’s throw from the house. You stand up and walk out towards the grass, feet burning on the sun-exposed dust.

“Here, kitty kitty!” you call out, looking for movement in the fields. There is none, so you cup your mouth and try again, louder. “Here, kitty kitty! C’mere, Peanut!”

Nothing but the buzzing bugs.

Your little housecat wasn’t made for the Texan wilderness. She was getting old and preferred to spend her days napping in whatever spot was the coolest.

Wading into the tall grass, you almost want to forget about ever having a cat, but you know you could never. You love Peanut, even if she gets on your nerves.

The fields are droning with critters that you can’t even see. It’s like they’re all complaining about the heat, and you find yourself agreeing with them. You wish you had grabbed some shoes before heading out, but you’re already this far – besides, if you return home now, you’re sure you won’t want to keep looking.

You don’t know how long you walk, but the sun is high over your head when you find an old wooden fence. Trees line the property on the other side, and it sure is tempting to hide under those pretty green leaves for a while, but you’re getting more worried the longer you look for your cat. Maybe a dog or a snake got to her first.

You hop up onto the fence and swing a leg over, then the other. Standing on the bottom rung, you hold onto the post for balance. Cupping your mouth with your free hand, you shout out into the field, “Peanut!”

Thomas was bored.

They had guests two days ago, but Thomas was already finished separating meat from bone and cartilage. Before that, it had been almost two weeks since their last visitors, and he thinks he got a little too excited at the prospect of getting to butcher something.

They weren’t even handsome enough to keep. The whole thing felt like a waste.

It’s a hot day, but Thomas doesn’t mind it. It not much, but walking in the shade at least gets the sun off of him. The oaks circle their home, and he can walk in on one end and come out on the other, pretty much in the same place. He’s curious today, though.

No meat at home. He might as well walk as far as his legs will take him.

The leaves sway and rustle together quietly when the wind comes by, but even then the air feels thick. Thomas trudges along, looking for something he doesn’t know about yet. There’s movement in the brush, but he can see it’s just a fat orange cat. It bolts when Thomas stomps past it, running into a clearing of tall grass. Thomas keeps on going, searching.

Hearing a shout, he knows he’s found it.

The noise was far, but not too far to walk towards. The sound keeps repeating, and it’s a female sounding voice; today’s his lucky day since he didn’t bring anything with him. She might go kicking and screaming, but it shouldn’t be too hard to throw an unsuspecting woman over his shoulder and carry her to the basement.

Reaching the tree line, the brush and the tree limbs part to reveal you.

Tall and full bodied, he sees your legs first. They’re pressed together as you stand on his fence, and your dress rides up as you bend forward at the waist.

“Peanut!” you yell, and he realizes it’s what you’ve been yelling the whole time. You curse under your breath and wipe at your forehead. Your hair is long and it’s loose, falling down your back past your shoulders. You’re sweaty and you don’t wear any shoes. Thomas watches your curiously.

You must have given up on whatever you were doing, because you step down from the fence and lean on it, putting your forehead on your folded arms. Thomas stares. You don’t look like the usual kind of guest.

Guests were usually tourists, and although Thomas couldn’t place you, he could tell that you were local. You wore a house dress like Momma, and you didn’t wear shoes outside. You were a Texas girl, Thomas realized.

He’s not sure the last time he met a real Texas girl. Probably not since he stopped going to the doctor in town, and that was when he was still a little kid.

Thomas was torn. He’s never killed townsfolk before. Meat is meat, the annoying little Charlie in his head hollered at him, but his Momma was in there too, telling him that there wasn’t anything left of their town. Shouldn’t he try to keep their town alive? Wouldn’t that make Momma happy?

He’s still debating with himself when you turn around and startle. He’s expecting you to scream and run away from him, but you don’t. You close your eyes, cover your chest, and sigh heavily.

“I am so sorry, mister. I thought it was just me and the June bugs out here today,” you say, opening your eyes again.

You smile at him, and Thomas feels like someone’s nailed his feet to the dirt. You watch Thomas as he watches you. Your smile falls a little bit, and Thomas knows why. He was expecting it, anyways.

“I’m sorry if I’m trespassing, mister, really. It’s just that I live out that way and my cat ran away this morning. I’ve been looking everywhere for her, I thought I could get a better look of the field from up on the fence,” you explain, gesturing behind yourself as you talk. Thomas likes the way your hair moves when you turn, and even though it’s wet with sweat, Thomas's fingers itch to stroke it out of your face.

He's no genius, but he can tell you’re worried. You’re making the same worried face Uncle Monty makes when Uncle Charlie was yelling at him. He was gonna walk anyways, he tells himself, as he gestures for you to follow him.

You look surprised, but you hurry to his side as Thomas starts striding through the trees. You sigh once you’re in the shade.

“Hell of a day, today. Even the shade is hot enough to fry an egg,” you say, walking behind him. You were taller than the other girls that came around here, but still only came up to his chin. He wasn’t gonna bother waiting for you to catch up, one way or another, and strode forward.

Your daddy always used to say that you could talk a gate off its hinges, but walking with this enormous stranger, you found yourself all out of words.

He cut a massive and daunting figure, especially with that dark mask covering his nose and mouth. His clothes were dirty, with brownish reddish stains covering him and his butcher’s apron. His dark curls were unruly and stuck together from sweat underneath the straps and buckles of his muzzle.

There was no better word for what he looked like than mean, but that never scared you off before. Your grandpa was a mean-looking man too, but he was also the sweetest man you’d ever known. You just wished the guy would talk to you too, that’s all. Maybe that would make the twisty nerves in your stomach go away.

Just as your mind starts getting creative about where the stranger could be taking you, he continues past the tree shade to an open field. The grass is still tall here, but it makes rolling waves on top of mounds of dirt.

“Guess here’s a good place to look,” you say, and you trudge forward in the tall grass. The dirt is cool between your toes, and you make little clinking noises with your tongue, interrupted by the occasional, “here, kitty.”

Thomas leaves your side to look on his own. The grass here is thick, and the holes make for some nice shade. Probably pretty nice for a little critter looking to get out of the heat.

You’re bent over, inspecting one of the holes, when you hear a familiar grumpy meow. You shoot back up, glancing down in the tall grass before your eyes land on the masked giant. In his arms is your fat orange cat, looking very displeased about being out in the sunshine.

“Peanut! You found Peanut!” you cry, jumping for joy before running to his side. The man stands there, frozen in place, while you take the cat from his arms and kiss her little forehead.

“Naughty girl, running away from home like that,” you scold, patting the spot above her tail like a faux spank. It barely even lands on her, but she still meows in annoyance. You laugh a little bit and look up at the man who’s already looking at you. Your smile softens as relief makes way for gratitude.

“Thank you, mister. You’ve got no idea how much this little guy means to me. How can I repay you?” you ask, holding on tighter to your cat so she can’t jump from your arms.

He doesn’t answer. You bite your lip.

“You free tomorrow?” you change your question. The man pauses before nodding. “Meet me by the fence again, okay? Same time as today.” The man watches you blankly, but the fact that he’s helped you already puts you more at ease. You smile at him and nod with a sense of finality.

“Thanks again. I’m gonna get out of your hair now.” He stands in the sun, and as you retreat back to the shade for your journey home, you can feel his eyes on you until you’re hidden by the trees.

“He seems nice,” you say to Peanut, who cries out pitifully at being carried. It’s gonna be a long walk home, you realize, as she squirms in your arms to break free again.

Thomas isn’t stupid, no matter what people like to say about him. All things considered, though, he feels pretty stupid standing behind the oak tree nearest to your meeting spot by the fence.

He knew you were coming this time. He could have brought his chainsaw, and if that was too heavy, he could have easily grabbed a hammer or his hook. He could’ve even kept them in his pocket, if he wanted to keep his hands free for the hour long journey.

Instead, he stood weaponless behind a tree, nervous to see you again.

His heartbeat races when he hears footsteps coming from the other side of the fence. He’s finally made up his mind to turn around and leave when you finally spot him. He sees a flash of your smile before forcing his eyes to the dirt.

“Hi, mister,” you say, and just like yesterday, his feet don’t really work. “Sorry if I’m a little late, it’s only ‘cuz I was pulling this out the oven.” He looks over at you and sees the brown basket in your arms, a plaid napkin covering whatever was inside.

Thomas nears you, noticing how your long hair was pulled away from your face into a braid that disappeared behind your back. You wore the same dress, but Thomas liked the way it looked on you. It clung to your chest and loosened around your hips, but the material was thin enough that it stuck to your sweaty legs just slightly.

His attention was forced back to the basket when you put it against his chest. With an empty brain, he grabbed it with both hands from the bottom.

“It’s water pie. My nana used to make it during the Great Depression. Kinda feels like that again nowadays, huh?” you say.

You smile as you say it, but it doesn’t feel like your big smiles, like the kind you gave him when he found your cat, or like how you smiled when you saw him behind the tree.

Thomas opens the napkin to see a still warm pie in the basket, glossy with a mix of white and yellow. He’s never heard of water pie, but Momma didn’t get the chance to make a lot of desserts these days.

He walks to the shady tree, wiping a hand on his apron, and sits heavily with his back to the tree. He has to look over his shoulder to find you, and you’re still standing by the fence.

Annoyed that you’re so far away, he quickly gestures for you to join him.

You give him one of your real big smiles and jump over the fence before sitting next to him, back also to the tree. He watches you take a dull butter knife from the basket and slice the pie up. You look up at him, and he looks down at you.

“Do you eat with that on?” you ask.

Thomas shakes his head. He keeps staring at her.

“Wanna take it off?” you ask next.

Thomas shakes his head again on instinct, but once he stops, he takes another look at the pie. He remembers it being warm still. His head nods once, the movement miniscule like he doesn’t want to admit it.

“I’ll look away if it makes you feel better. Swear I won’t look,” you say. Thomas breathes weird and turns away from her before reaching up to take it off.

You hear the buckles being undone and take it as your cue to turn away from the man.

It’s another hot day today, but you wouldn’t have missed your impromptu visit even if the fields were burning. Sure, the man might be odd, but he was mysterious as all get out and you longed to know more about him. It felt a little bit like you were a school girl again, crushing on a cute boy from your class, but it didn’t matter; you promised him repayment, and you always tried your hardest to make good on your word.

You reach behind yourself blindly for a piece from the basket and accidently brush against his hand.

“Oops, I’m sorry,” you say with a little laugh, eyes trained ahead at the fence.

He takes a piece, then you take the slice next to his.

The filling is sticky and gooey, but it stuck together solid when you picked it up. You eat it slowly, savoring the memories that came with the taste, as well as the gentle breeze that picks up under the leaves.

You debate with yourself for some time about grabbing another slice but, figuring he probably wasn’t looking your way, you reach behind yourself and touch the ceramic pie dish instead. You run your hand in a circle and all you feel are crumbs.

“Well gee, mister, I’d’ve made two if I knew you’d be so hungry!” you said cheerfully, grinning as you brought your finger up to your mouth to lick it clean. It wasn’t exactly true, since you barely had the ingredients for one, but he probably already knew that, the town being in the state that it is. “I’m glad you liked it. An empty pie dish is a great compliment.”

You can hear the buckles of his mask again and keep busy by reaching for the basket behind you, folding the napkin back up. It’s pleasantly quiet before the question that’s been at the tip of your tongue since meeting the man finally springs out.

“What’s your name, mister?” you ask, still not looking at him. He doesn’t respond, and you risk glancing back at him. His mask is on, but he doesn’t look at you. It occurs to you that maybe the guy just can’t talk.

Opening the napkin again, you take out the knife and use the rounded tip to write in the dirt. It’s awkward and it’s none too pretty, but your name is clear enough to read. You look to him with a smile and hold the knife out to him, handle first.

He looks between the knife and your name on the ground before carefully taking it from your hand. You already knew his hands were massive but seeing the difference so plainly before your eyes made you blush. Tearing your gaze away from his appendages, you watch the dirt instead as he spells his name out. He writes it thickly, his muscles gouging out the dirt easily with a dull rounded tip. Thomas.

You glance up at him, and when your eyes meet, it feels like electricity.

“It’s nice to meet you, Thomas,” you say. You don’t expect an answer, but he nods anyways.

The sun was past its peak when you finally stood, brushing off your dress. Thomas met you at the fence after you had jumped over it again, basket swinging on your arm. You asked him if he could meet again tomorrow, promising another dessert.

He told himself to say no. He couldn’t picture hurting you the way he did when he first saw you, but he knew this wouldn’t be any good. He’s not the type to make friends, especially not with pretty ladies. It must be his heart controlling his neck muscles because he nodded instead. At least he got to see that smile again.

And so, he met with you again. And then again the day after. Then even the day after that one.

It was only a matter of time before his uncles and Momma realize he’s been out of the house for most of the day, but only Charlie says something about it during their family dinner. He’s loud in Thomas’ ear, and Thomas keeps his head down avoid looking at him. It makes him feel better to call him Charlie in his head. Not Hoyt. Just stupid drunk Charlie.

“You better focus on your work, boy,” Charlie threatens, steak knife pointing at him from across the table.

Thomas goes down to meet you the next day, anyways.

“Hi, Tommy,” you chirp happily, straddling the fence before hopping onto the other side. Thomas liked that you started calling him that, but he doesn’t let himself show it.

He rubs his hands on his apron to get the nerves out of his system and gives a little wave with his first free hand. You don’t have a basket today, but Thomas doesn’t mind. He’s just glad to see you.

“How’s your day treating you so far?” you ask, like you always do. Thomas shrugs, like he always does too. “Peanut misses you, I think. She wants to come with me, but always stops on the porch.”

Thomas thinks about the orange cat again. He wants to tell her that it probably just misses you, since it had been glaring at Thomas from your arms that day. Instead, he just tilts his head at you, not knowing how to gesture all that with his arms.

It’s easy to listen to you. Even when you leave open ended questions, you don’t make Thomas feel pressured to respond. He’d long since given up on pantomiming since he was a teenager, but people still annoyingly waited for his responses. You talked to him like he was an adult, and you never complained about having to deal with him.

You’re talking now, something about Peanut pushing things off counters, and all Thomas can feel is gladness. It’s been a long time since he felt it so strongly, so innocently. He kind of feels like a little kid again, sitting shoulder to shoulder with you under the shady tree in the summertime.

When he touches your hand, you cut yourself off and look up at him. It startles him a little bit, because he realizes that he had nothing he really wanted to tell you. He just wanted to touch you.

“You doing okay?” you ask him, putting your other hand on top of his. Thomas looks down at your hands and nods. He’s doing better than okay. He wants to keep feeling your soft skin on his hand.

“You sure? Looks like somethings on your mind,” you say, sounding sorry. Thomas struggles with how to tell you, which he’s sure you notice. He suddenly takes your hand in his and flips it so that your palm is facing up and your smooth delicate wrist is visible. With his calloused dirty finger, he starts to spell.

“What are you doing?” you say, standing a little straighter and watching how he made the same shape again and again. “Are you… is that a K?”

Thomas nods quickly, looking at you for a split second before focusing down again and drawing a straight line.

“That’s an I. K-I…” you look at him attentively as he gathers his courage. He writes the next two letters quickly in succession. He does it once more before you look up at him, your pretty eyes wide and shinning. “S-S. Kiss.”

Thomas is sure his face is flushed, but he nods. There’s no backing out of it now.

“Oh, Tommy,” you say, and your confusion melts into a smile. “Of course, I’ll kiss you.”

He’s still hunched over from writing on your arm, so the hand you put on his cheek doesn’t have to work much to guide him towards your lips. You’re ready to lean in when your lip brushes against his mask. You laugh softly, running your hand down from his hair to stroke along his covered cheek.

“Can you take this off?” you ask softly.

Thomas shakes his head quickly, covering your hand with his as if you might try to rip it off of him anyways. He knows you wouldn’t, but he can’t think about risking it. Not when you’re so close.

You bite your lip as you think. His own lips move under the mask, imaging what it would be like to touch yours with his. He wishes he was normal. He wishes he had one of his real masks on.

You guide him down lower and tilt your face higher up, and Thomas can feel your lips on his forehead. His eyes close instinctually. He trusts you.

You kiss the spot between his eyebrows next, and he sighs shakily. His hands move your waist, holding you gently.

Then, you kiss the bridge of his nose, and your bottom lips must brush against the edge of his mask. His stomach turns at himself, but he pushes the feeling away.

Your lips follow along the edge of the mask, kissing on the little bit of skin showing under his left eye. When you kiss his temple, your hand moves to cup the back of his head and he shudders.

“I hope you’ll trust me enough, one day,” you say softly, and he practically bends in half to hide his face in your neck. He doesn’t cry, but his throat feels tight like he might. He swallows it all back. He shakes his head softly in the crook of your shoulder, wishing he could correct you. He would bare himself to you completely today if he didn’t think you would run screaming. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to handle that.

Your hands are a soft but persistent pressure on his shoulders. When he straightens up again, he looks down at you.

You lean up suddenly, lip slotting against his mask. Your top lip brushes between his. You taste like sugar and summer air. The kiss is done quickly, but Thomas can’t open his eyes yet. He licks his lips where yours just touched him and commits the taste to memory.

“You still in there?” you ask after a long moment, and Thomas opens his eyes to see you smiling playfully at him.

Thomas smiles when he nods, and stops nodding when you lean in to kiss him again.

He’s never felt so light in his life, having said goodbye to you at the fence after another hour of listening. You even kissed him goodbye, lips touching briefly through the mask as you stood on opposite sides of the fence.

Thomas promised you tomorrow, nodding at your request to see each other again.

His good mood lasts until he gets close enough to the house to hear shouting. He sees Charlie flailing his arms like a mad man by the back of the house, yelling Thomas’s name.

“Where in the ever-loving fuck have you been?” he shouted by the garage, spit flying. Thomas hurried his gait as he neared them. Charlie was bleeding from a wound on his forehead. He steeled himself for what the furious man would sling at him next. “I’ve been screaming for you for the past fucking two hours. Jesus fucking Christ, Thomas! You know, I defend you when people call you names, but maybe you are slow. Just how fucking gone are you up there, huh?!”

Thomas glares at the dirt, imagines pushing his thumbs into Charlie’s eyes until he can’t scream anymore.

“I can’t even look at you, you fucking disappointment. I brought home two stupid as fuck tree-humpers for you, and this is how you repay me? Look at what they did to me. Look!” he grabs Thomas’ apron and shakes him, and Charlie makes him look at the cut on his head. It’s nothing, Thomas has seen him give himself worse when he’s drunk.

“Go get your toy and mow those fuckers down. They’re not getting far, not after what I done to one of them,” he mutters, looking down the dirt road where Thomas can see the distant figures of two limping people. Sighing, Thomas takes off after them, grabbing a hammer from one of the junk piles by the garage.

He didn’t think about you until well into the early morning. He is taking a break from his work, sitting outside while the rest of the family slept in their bedrooms. Blood coated his apron, and he sat on the wide porch with a heavy sigh. He thought about you, wondered how someone so nice could ever want somebody like him.

Thomas was not stupid. He knew murdering people was wrong, just like he knew he was wrong for liking it so much. And he knew he was wrong for liking you.

Rubbing his new face with both hands, he hauled himself up to walk back to the basement. He readjusted the eyeholes as he walked – he had made them too small this time. He’d have to fix that before he did anything else.

Thomas is only one step away from the trees when Charlie hollers his name from the back porch. Thomas sets his jaw and looks over his shoulder to see his uncle gesturing and shouting at him. He can’t make sense of what he’s saying, and he doesn’t really care to. He doesn’t let up, though, so Thomas forces himself to turn back around and trudge back to the house.

He stands in front of Charlie silently.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he demands. Thomas has no way of answering, even if he wanted to. His arms cross thickly over his chest instead.

Charlie glowers at him, and Thomas’ stare is just as dark.

“You listen to me, boy. Now, I’m sorry for what I said yesterday, but I think I had good reason to be cross with you. Your family needs you here, Thomas. We need you to keep us safe. What if something happened to your momma?”

Thomas’ eyes glance at the house, where he knew his momma was resting comfortably. Still, the thought unnerved him. Looking back at Charlie, he sees the self-satisfied look on his face, like he knows he won.

“Be a good guard dog and guard the fucking house. Please.”

Thomas’ jaw tightened. He thought about you, walking from your home to see him. Thought about what you might’ve brought, although he wouldn’t care either way as long as you were there. But Charlie had a point. What if Charlie brought guests and they tried to hurt one of them? What if they hurt Momma?

A frustrated noise left his throat and he stomped away from Charlie back to his basement. He couldn’t think straight. The damn sun shined too brightly, and it made his head hurt. Slamming the door to the basement shut, he welcomes the darkness and sets his sights on his unfinished projects.

He only rises from his basement when the sun starts to set. A walk through the house tells Thomas he’s alone, the other members dispersing to be on their own too.

He’d been sad, passing the time while thinking about you getting stood up. Sadness in his chest, he walked to the fence anyways. He might feel better if he could just look at it and imagine how you look in your pretty dress.

At the end of his trek, he freezes as he passes the last low hanging branch. There you are, laying unconscious by the oak tree. He rushes to your side and hesitates helplessly before kneeling next to you. He holds onto your shoulders and tries to shake you awake, harsher and harsher as you don’t wake up. He’s beginning to panic when you suddenly open your eyes with a gasp. You stare up at Thomas with wide eyes. They shine in the white Texan moonlight.

“Thomas?” you whisper.

“What time is it?” You sit up and Thomas stays next to you, arms awkwardly hovering around you like you might fall asleep again. He’s breathing hard like he’s been running. “Is it nighttime already?”

Thomas nods, sighing finally once he catches his breath. Head low, he touches your arm and drags his hand down past your elbow to catch your hand. His brows are drawn, and despite his size, he seems to shrink as he clutches you like something delicate that might blow out of his hold.

He looks up when you touch his chin, gently guiding him to meet your eye.

“You okay? Did something happen?” you ask him. Thomas just shakes his head, squeezing your hand in his. He carefully turns your arm over, revealing your wrist. There, he writes down four letters. S-O-R-Y.

“Sorry? Oh, bubba, you don’t have to be sorry,” you murmur, smiling at him. “I needed a little nap, anyways. C’mere.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him in for a little hug. He melts into you, forehead pressed against the crook of your neck.

“Sweet boy,” you murmur, hand rubbing down his spine. “It’s okay. You’re alright.”

“I should start on back,” you say after a few silent moments, your hand still rubbing comforting circles on his back. Thomas stiffens and pulls away, and he won’t meet your gaze. You don’t want to part from him tonight, you realize.

When he glances at you, you’re biting your lip.

“Unless you know somewhere we can spend the night?” you suggest softly. Thomas’s face is blank as he thinks about it, but he soon stands up and holds a hand out for you. You take it and he hauls you up, leading the way through the trees. You like how he holds your hand, all encompassing and pleasantly warm in the breezy night air.

He brings you to a barn, standing alone in an empty field. It looks out of use, but bales of hay still line some of the walls, as well as some common tools for the land. You don’t bother looking around too much – you only have eyes for your Tommy. He stands in the barn, looking around for the best spot to lay down. You know it’s wherever he is, his wide chest looks like it’ll be a softer pillow than what you have at home.

“Tommy, c’mere,” you say, finding a bed of dry hay that looks cleaner than the rest. You sit down first, laying back in the rustling fodder. Your eyes meet his as you stretch your arms above your head.

Thomas stands above you. His eyes are dark.

“Lay down with me,” you speak softly. Thomas glances out the open barn doors for a moment before giving up on whatever battle was going on through his mind. You watch him unfasten his dirty apron and hang it off one of the half stables beside them. He lays down beside you, his heavy weight making the pile unsteady. You fall into him with a little laugh, a steadying hand on his chest.

“Oops,” you say with a little smile. You’re surprised to see Thomas return it. He has such a handsome smile; you wish he would smile more for you.

Leaning up, you kiss him through his mask, hands coming up to hold his face.

He exhales heavily, it almost sounds like a moan. He tries to kiss you back, but it’s impossible through the thick leather. Sighing softly, you kiss his temple and forehead instead, trying not to seem too frantic. It’s difficult, though, as you feel your body make you aware just how badly its craving Thomas.

“Please, Tommy. Please. I wanna kiss you. Please take it off,” you whisper, lips brushing against his tanned skin.

Thomas goes stiff hearing his pleas and pulls away. You watch him go with a pout. He turns away from you slightly.

“Thomas,” you say softly. He turns away further. Sighing quietly, you touch his shoulder. “Tommy. You know it don’t matter to me how you look. Not one bit. I’m always gonna think you’re my handsome guy.”

Thomas shakes his head, but you don’t give up. Kneeling, you hug him from behind, arms wrapping up to his shoulders from underneath his arms.

“I mean it, Tommy.” You put your forehead on his warm back. “I would never think bad about you. Hell, you could kill someone and I’d find a way to defend you,” you say with a little teasing smile. You feel Thomas put his hand on your forearm, gentle and unmoving.

“I could keep my eyes closed,” you suggest quietly. Thomas turns at that and looks at you with imploring eyes. You smile at him, small and secret, and free an arm to cup his cheek. You kiss the bridge of his nose just above his mask before pulling away.

You sit up and turn away from him partially, eyes closing and hands coming up to cover your eyes. “Ok, Tommy. I’m ready.”

In the dark, you rely on sounds. It’s quiet for a moment, and then you hear the buckle of the mask being undone. You exhale shakily, your heart beating near out of your chest. He must have set it down on the ground beside them because you can feel his hands on you, one on your elbow and the other covering your hands just over your eyes.

You’ve never really been described as small, but you feel it next to him. Even without vision, his presence alone towers over you. It should be intimidating, but it only makes you feel safe.

Your lips part and you drop your hands, letting Thomas touch your face directly. It’s even better since you can now put your hands around his back and hold him close.

Despite his size, he kisses you timidly, like he’s shy you’ll shatter into pieces with too much force applied. His touch is so gentle, even as he crowds you. You kiss him back passionately, encouraging him silently with your enthusiasm. You suddenly long to be naked in front of him, to let him blindfold you and use you however he needs. You know he’d be careful with you if this is how he kisses.

“Tommy,” you murmur between kisses, hands fisting in his shirt. “Tommy, I think I love you.”

Thomas can’t answer you, but he kisses you again and again like he’s saying the same.

Weeks pass. The summer turns into autumn, but the heat doesn’t go anywhere. Thomas can’t meet every day, but he wishes he could. Tourists come by from time to time, and everyone in the family does their part to make ends meet.

You’re all alone out here, he knows from your late-night talks. On evenings where neither of you had anything to do the next morning, you and Thomas would walk together to the barn. You always clung to his arm once the building was in sight, glancing up at him from time to time with your shiny eyes. He’s pretty sure you were both a little nervous everytime, but it was a good kind of nervous. He didn’t know there could be a good kind until he met you.

Thomas holds you on the hay pile, more comfortable now with a blanket you brought from home thrown over the mound. You’re naked, and Thomas likes your soft cool skin against his own. Although you’re both covered in sweat, the night is cool and comfortable, and Thomas likes the way you rub your hand slowly across his chest.

When your stomach growls, Thomas glances at you.

“Sorry,” you say. You smile, but it looks sad. “Just hungry. It’s been hard finding stuff to eat with the town being empty.” He knows the feeling well.

He takes your arm from where it’s resting on his stomach and gently twists your wrist towards himself. H-O-M-E, he spells.

“Mine?” you ask softly, head cocking to the side.

Thomas shakes his head and points to himself.

“Yours? What about it?” you ask softly, looking up from your wrist.

F-O-O-D, he spells next. Your eyes go wide.

“Oh, Tommy. You’re too kind to me,” you say softly, and Tommy lets go of your arm so that you can hug him.

His arms instinctually go around your waist, holding you close. He wants to tell you that he’s not just being kind. He would give everything he owns to you if what he owned was worth giving. He kicks himself mentally for not thinking about getting you some food sooner, though.

“Can we go tomorrow?” you ask. He wants to bring you there today, but there won’t be any food this late. He nods, hands running down your back slowly. He can feel his rough callouses catch on your smooth skin, but you don’t flinch or move away. You never have from him. He wants you, more than he wants to butcher, more than he wants to help his family.

“I should go home,” you say. The sky is dark, but the moon is large and bright in the sky, like the sun. Thomas shakes his head.

“No?” you say, laughing a little bit. You lean back and cup his cheeks over his mask. When you smile down at him, he imagines the touch of your lips against his own. On your back, he draws four letters, S-T-A-Y.

“All night?” you ask, pushing some hair off his forehead.

He nods, eyes stuck to your lips, so close but impossible to reach in that moment.

“Won’t your family be looking for you?” you wonder. You rub your thumb along his eyebrow, soothing him into shutting his eyes.

Thomas shakes his head slightly at the question, not wanting to knock your hands off him. He’s sure Charlie will be mad, but he doesn’t care. How could he when he has you in his arms.

“In that case,” you start, moving your legs apart to straddle his hips, “I suppose I’ve got you all to myself.” Thomas watches you closely as you run your hands down his chest and past his stomach, settling just above his open belt. Neither of you get very much sleep that night.

In the morning, he takes you by the hand as he leads you through the front door. The house is quiet despite its size, which makes it seem like it should be teeming with activity and sound. The outside is grey and dusty, same as the front foyer where you stand beside Thomas. You glance around, giving him a nervous smile when you finally hear footsteps coming from the other room.

“Thomas Hewitt, where have you been all night! You had us worried sick!” an older lady says, coming through the doorway. She’s short and plump, with tendrils of her grey hair framing her face, and her glasses make her look like a schoolteacher. She stops when she sees you, clearly surprised. “Oh! You brought company!”

You smile at her, stepping forward as she comes to meet you. She grins at you and takes your hands in her own.

“Hi, ma’am. It’s nice to meet you,” you say, introducing yourself with your name.

“Oh, the manners on this one! Usually, our guests are a little more ornery!” she says to Thomas, laughing. You don’t understand what she means, but you smile graciously as she tries to lead you back to the room she was in. You start to follow her, but stumble against Thomas as he blocks your way. He shakes his head at her.

“No?” the lady questions. She looks confused, but Thomas shakes his head again. He takes your hands from her, and then you feel his arm around your shoulder, keeping you at his side. “Thomas? What on earth is going on with you?”

You’re just as confused, but you don’t want to get in between a family dispute. You look up at Thomas, waiting to see what he does next.

“Is she why you didn’t come home last night?” the woman asks. A cold sweat blooms on the back of your neck with her face falls completely, turning into a blank mask. You’ve only just met her, but you can hardly recognize her from the woman that took your hands.

“I’m Thomas’ girlfriend,” you say, your voice smaller than you intended. You try to clear your throat politely. “I care about him very much, ma’am.”

You gasp when the woman turns on you, her finger pointed at your face as she snaps, “I don’t know how you tricked my son into falling for your tricks, you whore! Hoyt!” Thomas grunts, and the noise startles you – you’ve never heard the man make a sound louder than a labored breath before. Thomas pushes you behind his back and away from who must be his mother.

“No, I’m not a whore,” you say, but your voice is so meek under her disapproving stare. You clutch onto Thomas’ arm, and you can feel his tense muscles.

Someone stomps down the stairs then, an older man in a sheriff’s uniform. Seeing the pistol on his belt, you start to shake.

“And who do we have here?” the man drawls – Hoyt, your mind supplies,

Thomas shakes his head vigorously and stands in front of you completely now, shielding you from his mother and the Sheriff.

“She says she’s Tommy’s girlfriend!” his mother cries, as if she was grieving. The man barks a laugh at that, loud and unbelieving.

“A girlfriend, Tommy! That’s where you’ve been running off to all these weeks! How much he owe you, trollop? Because he ain’t got no money to give,” the man mocks meanly, guffawing as he tries to walk around Thomas to get a better look. You shrink behind Thomas as he does his best to keep you hidden away. “Bet you found her trying to hitch a ride off the highway.”

“I lived in this town my whole life, sir. I swear I’m no hussy,” you say, voice weak and muffled against Thomas’s back.

“Oh, yeah? That mean you two are in love or something?” he says, managing to grab your forearm and pull you out from behind Thomas. You shout in pain as you’re pulled between the two men, causing Thomas to let go of you. Without your shield, you’re faced with the old man and his drunk breath. You cringe away from him when he leans into you, inspecting you like you’re just a thing.

“Just get her out of here,” Thomas’ mother mourns.

“I ain’t no hussy!” you sob, eyes closed as tears start to escape your lashes. The old man laughs in your face, and he shakes you with his grip on your arm.

“Hear that, Momma? She ain’t no hussy! So, you sleep with Tommy for free?”

“I love him,” you sob, face crumpling as you feel yourself finally break. You wish you understood what you did wrong by these people. Thomas tries to break you and Hoyt apart, but the man shoves him away despite being smaller than him.

“Love? You love him?” Hoyt almost screams with laughter. “Does she even know what you do, Tommy? She ever see you without that mask on?

“Why don’t you go ahead and take it off? Take it off, Thomas! Shouldn’t your girlfriend know what you look like?” he turns you in his arms, forcing you to face Thomas. Your heartbreaks for him, and you see Thomas duck his head down low, arms bent by his stomach as he anxiously fidgets his hands.

“Stop it, leave him alone!” you sob, trying to wrench yourself out of the man’s hold.

“Why? Don’t you wanna see what he looks like? Pretty thing like you should have a handsome boyfriend to go along with it, huh?” Desperate, you look behind you to see Thomas’s mother watching the scene unfold with a handkerchief under her nose. You cry out when the man shakes you again, his grip unforgiving for such an old man.

“You know what? Why don’t we give your girlfriend here a tour, huh Tommy? What do you say?” Hoyt asks, but he doesn’t wait for an answer when he starts to drag you out through the front door and down the porch steps.

You stumble down them, almost falling out of the man’s arms, but he forces you upright again before going around to the back of the house. Thomas follows you both, and you can see the frantic way he tries to grab for you but hesitates. Even now, you know your sweet Tommy is afraid to hurt you, but you wish he would rip you out from Hoyt’s grip and stand up for himself.

At the cellar door, Hoyt lets go of one arm to push open the wooden door. You can’t see beyond where the sunlight hits the steps.

“Don’t be shy. Go see,” Hoyt says, before you’re pushed down the steps. You shout as you fall, managing to cover your head with your hands, but your body throbs in pain once you land on the cold concrete below.

You weep at his cruelty, curling in on yourself to hide away from the next blow. Instead, you can hear Thomas’s heavy footsteps down the wooden steps. His thick arms wrap around you, and he holds you tightly to his chest.

“Tommy,” you sob, pushing your face into his chest.

“Tell her, Tommy! Tell her what you do! Share your family pride!” Charlie shouts, laughing at them.

“That’s enough,” Luda Mae says quietly from somewhere behind him.

“Show her who you really are, boy, then see if she loves you,” Charlie says. Then he slams the door to the basement shut, leaving them both in darkness.

“Tommy,” you whimper through your tears, starting to lift your head out from his chest. You’re stopped by Thomas’s large hand cupping the back of your head, keeping you close. You can’t see the room, but it smells like blood and rot, and it makes your stomach churn.

You don’t ask him because he won’t be able to explain anyways. Hoyt’s words echo in your mind, and even if it makes no sense, you can understand that something is wrong here. But Thomas holds you and rocks you like a child until you have no more tears to give.

You wake up when the setting sun turns the sky orange. You rub your eyes and sit up, suddenly aware that you’re in an unfamiliar place. No one is around. Looking around the room, you see it’s a simple bedroom, with threadbare sheets. The only furniture besides your bed is a nightstand and a dresser with a missing drawer.

“Tommy?” you say out loud, but you don’t hear anything in response. You stand up and go downstairs, realizing as you enter the foyer that you’re still at Thomas’s house.

In the kitchen is the same woman from before.

“Oh, hi, darling. I figured you’d wake up soon. I realize I never introduced myself. I’m Tommy’s momma,” she says, like she wasn’t accusing you of something terrible earlier in the day. You smile weakly at her. You want to ask where Tommy is. You want to go home.

“Why don’t you sit down? You missed supper but I’ve got some leftovers still on the stove.”

You hesitate, but finally make your way to the kitchen table. Your stomach growls at the promise of food as you sit.

“Thank you,” you say. “I’m sorry for before.”

“Nonsense. I don’t think any of us understood how much you meant to our Tommy.”

You smile and start to eat when she puts the bowl in front of you.

“Where is Tommy?” you ask, looking up at her.

“Working,” she sighs, smiling at you. “We had guests come by in the afternoon.”

“Like a bed and breakfast?” you ask naively. She laughs at you, right to your face.

“You’re a funny one, girl. I see why Thomas likes you. Pretty and with a good sense of humor.”

You smile, laughing shakily as you eat some of the stew. You can’t tell if it’s pork, beef, or rabbit.

“I want to see Tommy. Where can I find him?” you try again.

“He’s working, sweetheart. He made it very clear he don’t want you in the basement anymore.”

Flashes of the basement make you dizzy, and you shake your head.

“I want to go home,” you whisper, dropping your spoon in the bowl and holding your face with both hands.

She sighs gently and puts her hand on top of your head. She rubs your hair flat gingerly.

“Oh, baby. You are home. Everything’s gonna be alright now. You’ve got us to take care of you.” She lets go of you and gets back to her work from before you came down. “You just let Tommy blow off some steam first. He and Hoyt got into a little fight after he brought you to bed. Nothing for you to worry about.”

You swallow thickly as you look around the grey kitchen. You wonder what kind of work Thomas could be doing in that basement with his guests. You look at the bowl of food in front of you.

You’re so hungry.

#₊*. ⋆༘ — uli writes #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas brown hewitt #thomas hewitt #slasher x reader #slasher x you #texas chainsaw massacre the beginning #the texas chainsaw massacre #slashers

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mamawasatesttube · 3 months

Note

For the fic prompts: 52) “I Wouldn’t Change A Thing About You” with the Souperfam? Thinking about them again (<- Guy who’s always thinking about them)

👉🏾🥺👈🏾

“—in the originals, there were actually five different guys playing Darth Vader! They had the main guy who played him in the full suit, David Prowse, and then his stunt double for a lotta the fight scenes, Bob Anderson, but then his voice was James Earl Jones, obvie. But James didn’t do the breathing! That was another dude named Ben Burtt.”

Across the table, Kon pauses to suck at his milkshake. Kara swings her legs back and forth before hooking her heels back onto the bar on her barstool, humming. He was right; this place has really good fries. And the burgers are solid, too.

“That’s only four guys, though,” she says, counting them off on her salty fingers. “David, Bob, James, and Ben.”

“Yeah! I’m getting there.” Kon grins. He dips one of his fries into the pink swirl of his milkshake (strawberry, because he says he likes everything fruity). Kara wrinkles her nose. That still seems weird to her. But Kon pops it into his mouth, chews, swallows, and continues: “The last guy is Sebastian Shaw. Who was only Vader in two scenes! Although technically you could argue he was never Vader and was only Anakin, if the semantics of that mean anything to you.”

Kara has seen these movies a grand total of once. Very recently. As in, Kon got her to agree to watch all of them this weekend. As in, they finished watching Return of the Jedi about ten minutes before they came here for a late lunch.

“They do not,” she assures.

To her surprise, though, Kon deflates a little. “Oh.” He drops his gaze to the fries left in his basket, then looks up again with a grin that doesn’t seem quite as genuine. “Right, yeah, I’ve been rambling for a while, haven’t I? It’s probably gotta get boring to anyone who doesn’t have these movies literally uploaded into their brain.”

He laughs, but Kara doesn’t join in. She frowns. “I wasn’t telling you to stop,” she objects, and lightly kicks him under the table to accent it. “I was just saying the semantics don’t mean anything to me!” Another kick.

“Stop kicking me,” he pouts, so naturally, she kicks him again. “Linda!”

This time, when her foot connects with his jeans, it freezes in place. Kara gasps, then glares at him. She could probably pull free of his telekinetic grip, but that’d definitely take superstrength, and this diner might not look too kindly on a potential hole in the ceiling. “Let go!”

“Only if you stop kicking me!”

“Then stop pouting and keep telling me movie trivia!”

“You don’t have to say that if you’re getting bored!” Kon huffs. His glasses do nothing to hide the flush on his cheeks. “I know I get rambly sometimes. Blame Cadmus, they’re the ones who made me so good at being annoying.”

He grins again, but Kara’s not buying it. He’s not very slick about hiding that this is an insecurity, is he? He probably thinks he’s being slick. He’s not. It’s endearing.

“I don’t think you’re annoying,” she says honestly. “I like that you get enthusiastic about stuff. I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

And then, because that’s embarrassingly earnest to say to her cousin while they’re in public, she has to follow it up properly, before she starts blushing too. Lightning-quick, she swipes a finger through his milkshake and dabs a dollop onto the tip of his nose. Ha!

Kon squawks. “Linda!” he protests, face even redder. He scrubs his hand over his nose, then licks the melting milkshake from his palm. “Jeez!”

Kara grins at him. “Your move, Conner.” As a concession, she dips one of her fries into her milkshake (simple and plain vanilla), then pops it into her mouth.

Kon huffs at her and makes a big show of rolling his eyes and scrubbing his face with a napkin. “Uncivilized,” he sniffs. But the telltale soft look in his eyes tells her she’s won, even before he opens his mouth. “Anywhoozies. So after the release of the prequel trilogy, George Lucas decided they needed to do some continuity edits on the originals, and there was a rerelease, and…”

#clarkkent-irons #kon #kara #souperfam!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#infodumping is a love language and so is listening to an infodump #superfam

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devilfic · 1 year

Text

❝right place, right time❞

II. of niceties and awkward second meetings.

parts: previously / next plot: bruce makes an offer you actually can refuse... at first.pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, bruce wayne is still a masochist, bruce wayne is ALSO reckless :). words: 3.5k. edited: 2/28/24.

After every surgery—good or not so good—when you’re rinsing off and getting patted on the back for a job well done, you elect to feel hope. And then you hurry to lock yourself in your office and try to catch your breath.

The weight of a life on your hands follows you from room to room, from work to bed, from daydreams to night terrors. Even when it’s good, it rarely ever feels good. Questions bloat your brain: what if there’s something you missed? What if, despite it all, it’s not enough? Is the blood on your hands, then? Is the life yours to save or the patient’s to endure?

There was no solid answer. All you could do was wait for full recovery and try not to let it consume you.

Maybe tonight was a night for Thai. Maybe you’d call up your old roommates and get together at your place. Maybe you could finally tell them about the night Batman broke into your house, and how you stitched up his bullet wound, and then fell asleep 20 feet away because you had to meet Bruce fucking Wayne the very next morning and God help you if you embarrassed your boss by being late. So far, the only person who’d heard about it was the old lady who lived in the apartment below you, and all she’d done is pray for you.

You’d assured her you were fine, but she’d insisted on anointing your doors and windows before you left for work. The “demon of Gotham” she’d called him, herald of vengeance. The fact that you’d saved his life meant that you’d be spared in the reckoning... or whatever little old ladies learned in Sunday school.

Whatever she believed, you had no reason to think you’d be struck by lightning twice. Batman would not be returning to your home any time soon.

The thought almost made you sad.

There was no reason for him to return. Batman probably had a team of doctors waiting to tend to him if his arsenal of weaponry was any indicator of wealth. He wasn’t just any ol’ run of the mill vigilante, that was for certain.

You were just a blip. A freak accident. A glitch in the matrix. The chance that you’d been in the right place at the right time when Batman needed you most was just that: chance. And you were no gambler, but you could bet on your license that that man would never darken your doorstep (or window sill) again.

Maybe you’d stop by the liquor store too on your way home.

You’re rounding the corner when you collide with your boss, frantic as usual.

“Oh! Finally, there you are,” he grips your upper arms like a vice, eyes frenzied as they look you over, “why do you look like that?”

You imagine he’s referencing the dew of sweat on your skin and your scrubs out of whack. “I finished an operation fifteen minutes ago.” You answer, unimpressed. “I was just heading back to my office.”

Your attempt to sidestep him—to free yourself of the shackles that were his hands—proves useless. He spins to keep you in his grip, “You can’t! Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“You have a visitor.”

You frown, “A patient? No one’s on my schedule.”

“I’d like you to make an exception for this one.” His voice drops to a whisper. He readjusts your shirt sleeves as if dressing you up, prettying you for the highest bidder, and that sets you on edge, “Just trust me.”

You almost (almost) flinch away when he pushes you to your office door—now, a looming boulder instead of a gateway to your safe haven. Before you can even ask just who is waiting for you on the other side, your boss is rushing off down the hallway to do God knows what.

As if disarming a bomb, you slowly open the door to peek inside.

It scares the both of you, clearly, if the wide-eyed look he gives you says anything.

It’s like it hasn’t been a week since you’d last seen him. Bruce Wayne is wearing what looks like the same suit he’d worn last time, tie and collar stiff, jacket open underneath his billowy coat. But he looks awkward standing in your modest little office. He looks like he’s not supposed to be here, or at least not without his right hand man and the fanfare to follow.

He keeps his hands in front of him to show you he means no harm, “Your boss said it was okay to wait here for you.”

You’re still bracing yourself against the door, trying to figure out what he could possibly be doing in your office, what he’d possibly be waiting around for you for.

You think about the last time you’d seen him, when you’d grabbed him out of nowhere and his companion (Alfred, was it?) looked like he would have no problem breaking your spine if you dared manhandle him again. Oh God, he wasn’t going to sue, was he?

You swallow, “Uh, right. Can I help you?”

Bruce straightens up. His hands fall to his sides. You search his face to predict his next move but you’re puzzled to find that he’s just as clueless as you.

You didn’t know much about Bruce Wayne, that much had been established. What little you did know was some amorphous figure of nobility, the “prince of Gotham” as the press dubbed him.

Yet, standing before you in your simple little office, Bruce Wayne feels less like nobility and more like a stranger in foreign land. He keeps his hands in front of him and you’re able to make out purple dusting his knuckles. Bruised. Not bloody. Not recently. This piques your interest.

“How long have you been a surgeon?” Is his first question.

You slink into the room and debate on shutting the door, deciding to leave it open a crack; whether it is so you can escape or for him to feel unwelcome, you’re not entirely sure. “Four years. Not including the 12 years of school and residency.”

Bruce perks up just a tad to your bewilderment. “Did you study here in Gotham?”

“I did. I considered Metropolis.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Cheaper tuition.”

“Do you like it here in Gotham?”

“I don’t mean to be rude, Mr. Wayne,” your voice comes out clipped—nervous—all the same, “I just got out of a surgery and I didn’t even know you’d be here so I haven’t got the faintest clue what you want-”

“I’m sorry.” Bruce apologizes, “I can come back another time.”

Come back? You assess his face once more, double checking for any sign of where this conversation is going, “Come back for what?”

For the first time since you entered the room, Bruce takes a step forward. A few, actually, ‘til he’s standing only a foot away and his whole deer-in-headlights deal is on full display. “A proposition.” Your head swims with big ideas. You’re thankful you’re still standing still. “I’d like to hire you.”

If Em could see you, she’d be laughing her head off at the look on your face. The emotions you're hit with are akin to blunt force trauma.

Bruce catches onto your distress and begins to explain, glancing away from your eyes to give you room to breathe, “Due to the nature of my job and the... events that transpired last November, I’m careful about my position in the public eye. I’ve decided to have a doctor on call, someone I can rely on in the event that something drastic happens again. It would be more menial work, but you would, of course, be greatly compensated: full benefits, triple your salary here. Nothing is out of the question.”

As the last word melts in the air, he finally locks eyes with you. Less deer-in-headlights now, more spotlight. More "I eagerly await your response".

You couldn’t even fathom the price point: triple your salary? You already made good money here, any more would be excessive. And then there’s the reality of the situation. You would be employed, solely, by Bruce Wayne. At his beck and call—perhaps moved into a nicer place within chauffeur distance of Wayne Tower—the support staff of the upper echelon.

Your mom wouldn’t bug you about moving out of Gotham ever again.

This all felt too good to be true. So good that your intuitive pendulum swung violently in warning. Bruce awaits your reply, wringing his hands before him and those glaring purple knuckles catch your attention again. How a CEO had managed those was a question you hesitated to entertain. Something else was going on here.

You knew Gotham was a corrupt city. It festered with crime in every aspect, that much the Riddler had made clear last Halloween. The late mayor, the DA, the police commissioner... and amongst his targets, Bruce Wayne had survived. Something else was definitely going on here.

“...I serve the public, Mr. Wayne. I reserve my skill for the citizens of Gotham without the... ability to seek better. I’m flattered you would consider me and I would be more than happy to point one of my talented colleagues your way in my stead. But I’m sorry, I can’t accept your offer.”

Bruce’s face falls for just a second. After all, if he were to wear his emotions on his face all the time, you doubted he’d be much of a successful businessman.

You’re thankful that he takes a step out of your personal space and doesn’t fuss, doesn’t try to shove a wad of cash at you, doesn’t throw more offers at you until you concede. “I appreciate your consideration, but that won’t be necessary. I should let you return to your work. Thank you for your time.”

You nod a little dumbly, the weight of what has just transpired starting to settle fully on you. Em would be far too angry at you to laugh, now.

With the grace of his pedigree, Bruce Wayne nods silently to you and leaves.

You notice once the muscles in your shoulders stop shaking that there’s something in your office that wasn’t there before. There, on the loveseat where Bruce Wayne had waited for you, was a business card.

You shakily approach the seat and collapse beside it, reaching out to read what adorns the back of the Wayne Enterprises logo.

Bruce Wayne CEO P: 212-XXX-XXXX

It takes the clatter of ceramic to pull you out of your reverie.

Beside you, Em hovers, “And here I thought you weren’t a fan.”

At the puzzled look you give her, Em jerks her head toward where your eyes had been focusing, mindlessly stirring in the events of the afternoon. At some point, the TV’s channel had changed from Days of our Lives to the Gotham News. They were running a story on a charity event downtown. Bruce Wayne was shaking hands on camera, the tagline “Bruce Wayne makes dazzling appearance alongside controversial mayor”. How fitting.

“‘m not,” you grumble, pushing your lunch around in yellowed Tupperware, “just thinking.”

“About?”

You glance at Em. Too little too late, your boss had clambered into your office shortly after Bruce left, pestering you about the conversation you’d had, disappointed when you’d told him you’d turned down the offer. “Imagine the press we’d get, one of our very own working for the CEO of Wayne Enterprises,” he’d argued, “you’ve got to reconsider.”

You hesitated to tell your tale again, fearful that you’d suffer the same reaction, but Em was not your boss. She would never let the topic rest. And it wasn’t like you signed an NDA, a truth that had only hit you hours after the fact, “I got a job offer today.”

Em’s eyebrows shoot up, “From West Mercy? Arkham?”

The very thought of working in Arkham Asylum had you abandoning your lunch altogether, “God, no. It was more like... on-demand. Concierge. A very rich patient wanted to hire me as their private doctor.”

“Wow... was it one of your patients?”

“No, I’ve never examined him in my life.”

“Him?” You recognized that tone of voice. A slew of questions were on the way if you didn’t elaborate fast enough.

Besides yourself and Em huddled in a corner, the break room was relatively empty. One of the ER nurses was napping, another engrossed in a game of Sudoku on their phone. You doubted they would hear even if you raised your voice above a whisper.

Quietly, because you clam up at the thought of saying his name out loud, you fish out his business card and slide it across the table to her.

It takes her but a moment to process. First a deep inhale, then her hand slaps the table (the Sudoku nurse glances up at you both and then changes his mind), then she’s gripping at your scrubs and shaking you violently in your chair, “Shut the front door! Please tell me you said yes!”

You frown, “No, I didn’t.”

“Why the hell not? I know you don’t keep up with the times in this city, but this guy is loaded!”

“I do keep up with the times. I just don’t give a rat’s ass about Bruce Wayne. A crime punishable by death, apparently.”

“But why in the world would you want to keep working here when you could be... having lunch on a terrace? Discussing lab results over Pinot Grigio? Jetting off to the Bahamas to check his vitals on vacation?”

You snort, “Exactly what I told him: I serve the public. I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Could always do both.”

You tried to imagine it, for Em’s sake. The terrace lunches, the Pinot Grigio. You imagined the nice apartment from before and the esteem that your boss was sure you could bring the hospital.

And you imagined Bruce Wayne, with a limp. With bruised knuckles. Always looking at you with those big eyes that somehow told you everything and nothing at the same time. Like an open book in a dead language. You thought about the night that Wayne Tower caught fire and the world that had been crumbling down in Gotham had started to feel truly broken. Politicians die all the time, but the uber rich? Even you had watched the sky in horror.

And now that same man had asked you—you, of all people—to be there in case there was a next time.

You thought about the Batman. Would you say yes if he asked you the exact same question?

You hadn’t considered both.

You’re unaware that Em is leaving until her chair scoots loudly across the laminate, “Think on it. Seriously. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime.” Her hand brushes your shoulder fleetingly. Then she’s leaving and you’re left to think again.

It was a bit ironic that his next visit took place as you were perusing apartment listings.

You hadn't seen him get inside your home the first time. He’d just been there, as if he’d always been there and you just never noticed. This time, he doesn’t have the urgency to break in. He waits at your window… staring in at you. No knocking. Not even a muffled “Can I come in?”

You don’t know how he expects anyone to invite him inside their home with those kinds of manners. You set your laptop aside and walk over to the curtains, his figure becoming clearer, more menacing as eyes silently follow you. By the time you reach the window, your heart is beating at an unhealthy pace. You had been able to get that adrenaline down before. How did you manage that again?

Batman waits patiently. Your hand presses to the glass, the warmth of it leaving behind a visible print as you push up on the glass, “Don’t tell me,” his head cocks to the side as you begin, “another bullet?”

If he is suffering from a wound like the last, he doesn’t look it. He’s crouched on your fire escape with his cape billowing behind him and the light of your apartment giving off just enough of an ominous glow.

After last time, you’d sneaked some extra supplies back to your place under the paranoia that something might happen again. And, let’s be honest, no one would raise a brow at having everything you need to clean a gunshot wound in this city. You couldn’t say it was entirely just for him, though.

The silence goes on uncomfortably long. You start to wonder if he even heard you, the way he stares you down, unmoving. He resembles a stray caught stealing from a trashcan, seconds from sprinting in the opposite direction to avoid being caught.

Eventually, your heartbeat spikes again. What had he told you last time? To run if someone tried to break in? Maybe he had wanted you to sprint the second you saw a human looming on your fire escape, regardless of their vague bat shape. Was he angry? He kind of always looked angry.

“Have you noticed anyone following you?” His question causes just the briefest alarm.

Living on the not-greatest side of Gotham, you had learned how to keep your head down but your eyes everywhere. If some mugger were looking to jump you as you got out of your car, you’d know. You shake your head, palms beginning to sweat.

Batman assesses you for a bit longer. You can’t tell if he’s reading you for a lie or if his instincts are just telling him otherwise, but eventually, he accepts your answer.

And begins to leave.

“Wait,” you stutter out against your better judgement, when he’s already stood to his full height, one boot positioned on the railing to propel himself below. He looks over his shoulder at you very slowly, “how’s your... side? Wound heal okay?

He looks down to where you’d stitched him, where his armor had been mended. “It’s better.”

You sigh, relieved. “You’ve gotten it looked at, then.”

“Someone looked at it.”

His wording gives you pause. “What about your stitches? Did you get them redone?” He hesitates. “You... did get them redone, right? Better. Preferably by someone who wasn’t worried about you dying on their living room floor.” Your skin prickles when you see his guilty look. “Batman, if you’ve been fighting crime every night for the past week with the same stitches I put in you days ago-”

“I’ve been through worse.”

“So you keep saying.” You really don’t mean to grit your teeth at him, practically stomping your foot because you’d, at the very least, expected him to be a bit smart about a bullet wound.

But, then again, you were talking to a man dressed as a bat.

You crawl out onto the fire escape, chilly and biting and unforgiving as the night may be, and watch Batman turn halfway toward you. You have to resist the urge to brush your hand against his side, an act far too intimate with Kevlar in the way. You look up at him, “Don’t suppose you’d let me take another look at it?”

The first time, sure, he let you because he was close to dying. With a motto of “I’ve been through worse” at his disposal, you doubted he would let you do it again unless the circumstances were dire.

Sure enough, he moves defensively away from you. You take heart in that it seems less like he distrusts you and more like he’s got a bravado issue. Not great, but better. Easier to fix.

You think of the medical supplies in your apartment and wonder if you’ve got what it takes to coax him inside. “I thought that you might not come again. Guy like you fighting crime every night must have people on hand for stuff like this, right? You’re not just any vigilante. Couldn’t be.” His unsettling glare makes the cold seep into you just a little bit more, “You don’t. Do you?”

He doesn’t answer you. His eyes shift from yours to the cityscape. Looking for a way out, maybe.

But if he wanted to leave, he would leave. Why would he hesitate?

“I just want to look. Make sure it’s not infected. No poking or prodding, I promise.”

“It’s not. I had someone look at it.”

“A doctor?”

“...No.”

“Someone who knows what they’re looking at, at least?”

He looks down at you. There’s something there that he’s keeping close to his chest, too much information for a stranger (even one who’s saved his life). You wait to see what his decision will be. “You work at Gotham General.” Batman states, matter-of-factly.

“...I know you were bleeding to death when I told you, but you’ve got to keep up in this city.” You see a hint of a smile on his mouth that is just as easily written off as a scowl. “What about it?”

Again, that look.

Just as you’re certain that you’re about to break through to something, a siren goes off in the distance. Sure enough, when the both of you look to the sky, his emblem is carved out in the clouds, beckoning him down to the streets once more. Your heart sinks. You were so close.

Batman waits a beat, positioning himself on the railing again. His eyes find yours over his shoulder, cape fluttering with the promise of taking flight, “They’re lucky to have you.”

He leaves. It feels even colder when he does.

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne scenarios #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne #batman x reader #batman scenarios #batman imagine #batman fic #the batman #battinson x reader #battinson #dc #mjwrites #bw; rprt

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have-a-treato · 7 months

Text

Credentials

dom!Gale x bratty female sorcerer Tav

Context: Gale and Tav have an argument about magical theory, and things get real tasty.

Content: Smut, lemon, porn without the plot, oral (both), orgasm denial, prostate stimulation, restraint, PIV, inappropriate use of mage hand

“Am I truly so beneath you?” he purred. “Well, you could certainly be beneath me right now,” she purred back. She wasn’t subdued just yet. Gods this vixen. He was pulled back to her by the temptation of her resistance, taking her mouth with his again. He groaned into her mouth, “You wicked, wicked pixie.” He licked into her mouth and bit at her lips, his hand angling her head for him. She managed to break free of the kiss, “Come on, Gale, finish what you started,” she compelled him. He answered her with confidence, “I do not quite believe that I started this, but I will finish it.” He stepped back again and surveyed his capture with keen eyes.

*the POV switches between Gale and Tav randomly so it might be a little confusing. I'm playing around with third person and perspectives

Fic List AO3

There was quiet, only the sounds of their gusting breaths, eyes unwavering from each other, neither willing to make the first move. So they didn’t. They did it together.

Gale and Tav rushed at each other, colliding with startling force and hands and teeth. Gale gripped the back of Tav’s head and took the first kiss, all clashing lips, panting breaths, and dueling tongues. He commanded her with his mouth, bowing over her slightly, and the lightning that shot through her in response was startling. But she loved it. They’ve had their squabbles to be sure, but she’d never riled him quite this much. He was entirely dominant in the moment, and she realized that he was pushing her backward. Her back hit the wall a moment later and a feral grin snuck across her face in between his raging kisses. She must prolong this; it was just too good.

“You’re still wrong,” she insisted on panting breaths.

“It is my specialization. You are quite literally ignoring the fundamentals of the concept.” He scoffed, pulling back from the kiss while his hand further tightened at the back of her head. “Why will you not concede that my knowledge and experience surpass you in this?”

“Guess you’ll have to make me.”

His eyes widened in pure bewilderment, then that fire she’d stoked came roaring back. With frustration ladening his voice he growled, “You are so- so crass, stubborn, arrogant-”

“And better than you.”

He pushed Tav against the wall even harder, and muttered something she couldn’t catch during the distraction. Now, now, she tried to say, but no sound emerged from her mouth. The bastard silenced her!

He smirked as the realization crossed her face, “That’s quite enough of your depraved mouth.”

She returned the grin; He’d remember after this that she didn’t need her mouth. Her hand reached between them and gripped the front of his trousers, feeling the obvious enjoyment he was getting out of this exchange, despite the tone of his words. Her hand squeezed, then stroked his hardness through the fabric. Gale’s eyes flickered and that grin faded, and he lunged forward to take back her mouth in those furious kisses. Perfect, she thought, Gods, he’s so perfect like this.

Gale distantly thought that he was less in control of this interaction than their positions would suggest, but the taste of her flooded his mind and drowned out all thought save for his anger and lust. Her hand stroked him through his trousers and his hips moved unbidden against her palm, seeking more sensation. He must be the victor, he was right, and those smug smiles on her face, UGH. It only sent him into a frenzy when he knew he was absolutely in the right here. Her hand squeezed slightly at his head and a shudder rolled over his back. No, she can’t win, he thought. Stepping back after biting her lower lip, he quickly uttered an incantation that had spectral hands gripping her wrists and ankles. Her hands were raised and pinned to the wall above her head, her ankles gently tugged so her stance widened for him.

Taking a moment to savor this view of her, he flicked his wrist to remove the Silence spell and asked, “Comfortable?”

Tav’s breathing had kicked up, and she was panting unabashedly from the powerful arousal of being restrained by him. They’d never done anything like this together, and she was quickly finding that she really, really, liked it. What else would he do?

She pointedly looked at her hands and feet, “We’re a bit past cordiality, no?”

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” He huffed.

“Maybe I want you to.”

He chuckled under his breath and rolled his eyes, giving a subtle shake of his head as he crossed his arms, “Back to the point: just admit that you’re outclassed.”

“I’m never outclassed, wizard,” Tav smirked. Oh, he was really going to hate this next part. “You’re just jealous that I can feel it in my bones, and you’ve had to study yourself into the ground to get even that far.”

It wasn’t anything Gale had not heard before, so her goading rolled right off his shoulders. But he was beginning to understand this game and how to play along. He lunged for her again, one hand cradling the back of her head and the other diving under her robe and between her thighs, rubbing firmly in circles at first then backing off to feather light brushes of his fingertips against the fabric of her underwear. He felt her tense and then she attempted to chase his fingers with her hips, wanting that firm pressure back. She bit her bottom lip, a teasing visual for him as her teeth sunk into that pillowy softness. He replaced her teeth with his, sucking on her lip and then trailing down her neck with biting kisses. He smiled triumphantly as he heard her first moan in his ears, keeping his mouth on her skin and sliding his fingers underneath her underwear to coast across the hood of her clit, never giving pressure, only the ghost of it.

Her hips bucked against him, and he tutted, “Behave, or I’ll restrain you further.”

She let out a gasping second moan, as if that was exactly what she wanted. Oh yes, he understood perfectly how to play this game now. He removed his hand and deftly unclasped the front of her robe, opening it wide, and unlacing the sheer slip clinging to her curves beneath. He pinned her hips against the wall to still her, then resumed those biting kisses over her shoulders, her collarbone, between her breasts and finally to her breasts themselves. The tip of his tongue circled around each nipple, and he sucked mercilessly on each one, long pulls that gave a popping sound as he pulled back. She yelped loudly but he continued his path south, licking down her ribs. His tongue found her navel and dipped inside, causing her to squirm and writhe the hardest yet, and he gave a dark chuckle. He lowered to his knees, stared up at her with an impish smile, and bunched her slip around her hips. He slowly lowered his mouth to her sex, tonguing her clit through the fabric of her underwear, feeling her muscles tense as she stifled a whine in her throat. Backing off again, he deftly ripped the waistband of the fabric and tore it away from where he wanted his mouth, finally giving her the pressure and friction that she ached for. His wrist flicked and the hands gripping her ankles widened her stance even more, allowing him to delve his tongue into her plush channel. He sucked at her velvety folds, lapped at her clit teasingly, and dipped his tongue back into her. A realization that he loved to tease her tickled the back of his mind, but the forefront was consumed by the way she tasted and how she was crying out freely. Her hips were pitched forward, and her cries became higher and higher, and then he stepped away suddenly.

“Not yet,” He commanded. A soft glow emanated from his fingertips as he spoke a low incantation, pressing those fingers to her sex. They were icy cold and would halt her climax and numb her slightly. “Not until I say.”

A long, low groan burst from Tav’s throat as he stole her impending orgasm from her, ending in a half-heartedly wrathful growl, “You bastard,” she gusted with each breath, “You bastard... bastard...”

The back of her head hit the wall as her strength failed her, now completely at his mercy, or lack thereof. Her legs shook and her head swam with the shock of being so close to tipping over the edge, only to be rudely yanked back. She watched his face under her lashes as he stood and admired the mess of her he’d made, his chin tucked between his thumb and forefinger.

“Am I truly so beneath you?” he purred.

“Well, you could certainly be beneath me right now,” she purred back. She wasn’t subdued just yet.

Gods this vixen. He was pulled back to her by the temptation of her resistance, taking her mouth with his again. He groaned into her mouth, “You wicked, wicked pixie.” He licked into her mouth and bit at her lips, his hand angling her head for him.

She managed to break free of the kiss, “Come on, Gale, finish what you started,” she compelled him.

He answered her with confidence, “I do not quite believe that I started this, but I will finish it.” He stepped back again and surveyed his capture with keen eyes.

“That mouth of yours really is quite vexatious,” triumph in his face as he began shifting the spectral hands to change her position. Her knees bent and she lowered to kneel before him, the hands at her wrists pulling back so that her chest was slightly thrust forward. “Perhaps I’ll give it something to worry over,” he uttered lowly while unlacing his trousers.

Her cheeks ignited with a great anticipatory flush, her mouth flooding with saliva at the sight of him above her and the feeling of her hands behind her back. She watched avidly as his fingers deftly unlaced the front of his trousers, pulling them and his underwear down to his thighs, releasing himself. Dutifully, she opened her mouth for him, waiting patiently. He took her chin in his fingers and set the tip of his cock on her tongue, “Good girl,” he grinned, then slid himself into her mouth. She moaned around him, watching his face as he slid in and out of her mouth, pressing her tongue to the underside of him and flicking gently. A crease between his brows formed slowly as his pleasure increased, but he still moved slowly. She sucked him as he pulled away and flicked with her tongue as he moved forward, and frustratingly wished she could use her hands to encourage his hips. She wanted him to lose his control and use her mouth as mercilessly as he denied her orgasm earlier.

An idea sparked in her mind. He wasn’t the only one who could be merciless, and again, she didn’t need to use her hands, or her mouth. She continued to watch his face, watch that crease in his brow. Her lashes fluttered closed as she concentrated on her magic, grinning inwardly to herself. She felt the well of her power answer to her will, as easily as breathing. Right now, Gale should be feeling a new warm pressure sensation around his prostate. She’d done this for him before, but certainly not with magic. She felt his hips stutter, and she opened her eyes to see that crease in his eyebrows deepened, and his eyes honed to hers with a knowing spark.

“Oh, you...” he started and trailed off, the pleasure taking his words.

His hands flew to her hair and the back of her head, moving earnestly in her mouth now. She opened her throat for him, taking breaths on his retreat, squeezing and sucking around him as he thrust into her throat. Small tears were forced into the corners of her eyes, but she loved every second of it. Seeing him lose composure and chase his pleasure, using her however he wished. She focused on her magic, continuing to stimulate him with her mouth and her mind. His breath gusted out of him above her, and suddenly her hands and feet were free. He’d apparently lost concentration, and she took the opportunity to grip his thighs and pull his hips forward, sucking his cock deep into her throat. He groaned, and she dug her fingernails into his flesh, relishing the feel of him. She moaned around him again and moved a hand to his sac, massaging there as well as inside him. She heard a growl above her and the next she knew, she was gulping air as she was pulled off him by her hair, her back thudding against the floor and his mouth stealing her air again. Her hands grappled for purchase in his shirt, and his hands lifted her hips as he slid home inside her and began slamming into her. She cried out with pleasure and victory, a feral smile on her face as she nipped at his lips and moved her hips to meet his. Their cries were loud and uncaring, and she watched his face as he lost himself, sweat beading on his brow, his chest heaving as he rutted into her. He leaned his forehead against hers and groaned against her lips, “Come. Now.”

The command in his voice was all it took for her, and her climax barreled up her spine, wrenching a scream from her throat. He slammed fully against her and paused, shuddering bodily, a groan to match her scream emanating from his chest, his muscles taut under his skin as his own orgasm stunned him with its force. Their strength fled them all at once, both collapsing. Gale barely had the presence of mind to shift some of his weight onto his elbow to avoid crushing her completely, still resting his forehead against hers.

After a few moments of only the sounds of them catching their breaths, he rolled them to their sides. They gazed at each other with sated, slightly surprised smiles across their cheeks. Tav traced their finger across Gale’s brows, and Gale squeezed her hip gently.

“What were we arguing about?” Tav asked, a little slur in her words.

Gale chuckled, “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

---

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

I found clips of angry Gale and was... inspired.

This was supposed to be a fun little drabble to take a break from the other stuff I'm writing but I had a little too much fun with it.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale x tav #gale x f!tav #gale romance #gale x reader #gale x you #bg3 gale #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #gale dekarios romance #gale dekarios x tav

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rendy-a · 10 months

Note

For the follower event, can I have an arm-wrestling scene after the dance with rival Sebek? Well, unless you can think of a better battle scene?

A battle scene, that made me laugh. This fic is shorter, but it was very fun to write. I hope it makes you smile.

“How dare you!” you shout after his retreating back. Sebek turns and points at you dramatically, “HOW DARE I? HOW DARE YOU!” Then his eyes waver and you think for a moment he might cry before he speaks, “First you take the Young Master to the dance, then you steal the last dance with him and now you want to walk him home as well? PREPOSTEROUS!” You knock his pointed finger away and remind him, “I’m his date! Of course, I’m going to walk him home!” Lightning crackles as Sebek replies, “I’M YOUNG MASTER’S PERSONAL GUARD AND I WILL NOT ALLOW IT!”

You were fed up with the disagreeable fae. You’d tried so many times to win over Malleus’s friends, but Sebek refused to meet you halfway. Or any distance at all. “I don’t see Silver over here whining,” you grumble as you sweep the room for your date, looking to abscond with him before Sebek can cause you more trouble. “Silver is out patrolling the corridors for Young Master’s safety!” Then he sneers down at you, “That is something a human such as yourself could never understand.” That was it, you were done trying to play nice.

“I challenge you,” you whisper softly. You’d spoken it quietly, but you could tell from the sudden intake of his breath and the widening of his eyes that he’d heard you. “What was that?” Sebek asks in disbelief. You slam your palm down on the lunch table laid out with the remnants of celebratory snacks and shout, “I CHALLENGE YOU!” At this Sebek is taken aback. He scoffs at you, “As if you could challenge me. What sort of martial arts do you even know?” You point at the table, “I’m not talking swords, I’m talking arm wrestling. Right here, right now.”

You see his widened eyes sweep from you to the table and back. His mouth hangs open in shock and a slight flush crosses his cheeks. What? Was he embarrassed to arm wrestle you? “I’m not backing down. If you refuse the challenge, then you lose.” You stick up your chin haughtily and attempt to stare him down. He scoffs again but comes to the table, “As if I’d be afraid of losing to a weak human.” Then he sits down, plants his elbow and offers you a gloved hand across the table. You look at him in disdain. “Take off your glove. I’m not going to have you crying that it wasn’t fair when you lose because you couldn’t get a good grip.”

He leans back and the flush on his cheeks returns. His mouth opens and closes as he searches for words but nothing emerges. You sit and extend your bare hand into position and roll your eyes, “Its not that big a deal. Let’s go already!” Sebek snaps his mouth closed in a disapproving frown. He considers your hand for a moment before he sighs and removes his glove, tucking it carefully in his pocket. Then he sets his elbow back on the table, waggles his fingers in a sort of hand stretch before extending his hand to grasp your own. “You understand that you can’t possibly win,” he says calmly as he stares you directly in the eyes.

Honestly, this is a concern you also have. Sebek is large and intimating when it comes to strength, but you have determination. You can’t just let him steal your date from you! You must win. With that fire burning inside, you shout to begin, and the contest starts in earnest. Sebek is surprisingly cautious, choosing to not use all his strength at once but instead to guard against your full assault. You push with all your might and DO make some headway but the crocodile fae isn’t defeated by this. You make the mistake of catching his eye and know he sees your fatigue in the glance. You frown and a bead of sweat trickles down your forehead. You had to finish this somehow, you just had to!

Bam! Your hand hits the table so suddenly you are caught by surprise. You look at Sebek and find him equally unprepared for this outcome. Standing between you, pinning down a hand with each of his own is a smiling Lilia. “Kids these days,” he mischievously comments. Then he shrugs his shoulders in an exaggerated fashion and declares, “It looks like little old me gets to walk Malleus home. What a shame for you two.” Then, with a wicked smile, he bounces off to collect his liege.

You and Sebek can only gape at each other, overwhelmed by your sudden loss. The you look at your rival and declare, “That was SO COOL!” An eager grin crosses Sebek’s face as though the compliment was for him, “Master Lilia is most skilled at all manner of contests. It’s a thousand years too soon for you to plan to challenge him!” You laugh with him and gaze admiringly at the departed fae senior, “Where did he even come from? I didn’t sense him approach at all.” Sensing an opening, Sebek launches into some reminiscences from his training days with Silver and Lilia.

As Lilia escorts a somewhat confused Malleus back to the dorm, you and Sebek trail them, trading stories all the way. Somewhere between the cafeteria and the dorm, you swap over from gushing about Lilia to being jointly amazed over Malleus. By the time you wave goodbye at the drawbridge of the dorm, you and Sebek have become much better friends. You’ve already made plans to come over for tea and listen to more of his training stories from back home. In fact, it almost feels like your rivalry is over until you ask, who gets to be President of the Malleus and Lilia fan club? Lightning crackles once more as you battle Sebek for dominance. Lilia chuckles and pushes Malleus off toward the stairs and bed, ignoring the budding battle below. He thinks to himself, ‘Let them fight. After all, rivals can make for the best of friends or even lovers.’ Down below in the lounge of Diasomnia, something was definitely starting but as to what, only time would tell.

#500 follower event #twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #sebek zigvolt #sebek x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader

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asherloki · 10 months

Note

The prompt is "You never asked me anything in return, you just showered love on me, and all I gave you was doubt, unfaithfulness and mistreatment." :)

Just honesty

Marc Spector x reader

Word count:- 1288

Warnings:- quite angsty actually!

A/n:- I didn't actually thought I could use this prompt for a moon boy, it was fun writing honestly, hope you like it.

Dialogue prompt list here!

You were shocked when after a year of dating marc Spector you found out he has DID. All you ever ask for is honesty, you rather preferred him telling you right away than finding it out after a year out of nowhere.

"you could tell me marc, I would've understood" you said almost crying out of dishonesty, disappointment and sadness.

"I thought it'd freak you out, I thought you'd leave me" marc had his own reasoning too, you couldn't deny whatever his reason was to hide such thing from you was acceptable, you may have still stayed after hearing his mental illness but anyone else would've left him then and there, and anyway how was he to know. You forgave him, because why not, this man would do anything for you, anything to keep you happy. You knew one thing for sure, Marc Spector was the man who'd risk his life for you. Everything between you two went back to normal, until one day you found out another thing about him. Something that's unbelievable, Your boyfriend is an ex mercenary, yes ex but still, mercenary, he never said that. You being someone who'd prefer honesty had to deal with someone like Marc, who hid two very important things of his life from you. The one thing he never hid was him being moon knight, a superhero.

But this time it was enough for you, when you recieved the phone of his, the call from Bushman and heard all the things about his past you froze,

"I'm living with a... a.. freaking mercenary? no no no... it can't be... he's so sweet to me, nice to me he can't just..." your train of thoughts went on until a voice from behind interrupted.

"everything alright?" Marc, it was marc.

'the one I should confront' a voice in your head said. you slowly turned to face the liar, the one that was actually a liar in your eyes, your eyes were red out of crying, yet you didn't exactly cried. After the phone call you froze and tears streamed down your cheeks.

"baby, you're crying is everything..." he trailed off as he saw his phone in your hand " my phone". His heart gave a tug, that was enough for him to understand, the one secret that was left to discover was no longer a secret.

"Bushman " you said in your shakey voice, crying or rather shedding tears nonstop.

"he called? so I guess you know that..." before he could finish you said,

"mercenary". your face, the expression terrified the man thaf stood infront of you, it reminded him of his mother, when she blamed him for his dead brother.

"it's..." he couldn't say anything, what could he? what was there to say? everything is infront of you now.

"freaking mercenary" hurt, fear and disappointment was clear in your voice. Marc just stood there watching you, years of being blamed prepared him to not to cry, he didn't cry he just stood there.

"such a LIAR" you yelled at the word 'liar'.

"I didn't lie" Marc muttered under his breath.

"no, but you kept it hidden from me, and about your DID, what else now? what are you?"

he knew there wasn't anything left to discover but he still just stood there watching you. You stood there looking at the man you love, the image you had of him changing. Marc noticed the window behind you, the sky was cloudy, you always feared the thurders so he silently went passed you and closed the window so you don't be scared. You watched everything and laughed mocking his actions,

"oh my dear! oh Mr Marc Spector thinks he'd win me over again".

"I'm doing what I've always done, you fear the lightning so I... I'm sorry but I'm not a mercenary now" he said, ofcourse he wasn't anymore. but you could hardly let go off it, even though a voice in your head kept telling you 'please, you know he's the nicest guy to you, he's never hurt you, for a whole year as long as you've been together all he did is give you love and support, did you do the same?' the memories of him showering unconditional love on you played infront of you but then the scene infront of you was true too. You just wanted to run away, not caring about the weather,

"you know what?" you said looking at Marc "it's enough now, I'm... I'm going" that's all and you run. Marc could barely say anything but run after you, you ran down the stairs and landed on the road. The clouds, it terrified you, but better to run under it than being caught by Marc. So you thought and so you did. Following you marc landed on the road too, he didn't has it in him to utter a simple 'stop' to you. He knew how much his secrets hurted you and all he wanted was to hold in his arms and apologize.

You on the other hand ran, aimlessly, making all the few people outside stare until the Bright, flashing lightning lit up the sky like fireworks; banging, crashing thunder roaring furiously, sizzling, electrifying lightning zipping across the sky. It was a nightmare for you, all of these are nightmare for you anyway. but that was alot too handle, you fell on your knees, covering both your ears with your hands. Marc was terrified for you, he knew he'd freak you out but he had to, he held you in his arms as he too sat on the pavement. The sounds were terrifying, the flashing light reminded you of your life without these arms wrapped around you. Lonely, sad, scared. How can you smile without the man who did his best to keep you smiling? You let yourself fall into his arms and Marc tightened his grip around you. that's it, that's good, that's home. You allowed yourself to cry now, in his arms. After a minute or two you both stood up, that's when you saw Marc crying too, silently, like he always did when you doubted him, when you flirted with other men, when you took him for granted. Yet his hands reached to wipe your tears with a sad smile on his lips,

"I won't force you to stay, but I'd like if you forgive me, don't go like that please". he said with such pain that you could feel his heart was heavy,

"why do yoh care so much about me?" you enquired,

"because you know, I love you, you don't have to believe it but I do", he answered your question. You watched him, rather observed him. He lied or hid alot from you but one truth is that he genuinely loved you.

"You never asked me anything in return, you just showered love on me, and all I gave you was doubt, unfaithfulness and mistreatment." you said, tears still flowing down your eyes.

Marc's hand cupped your face as he said, " what can I do? one truth of my life is I love you" he then let go off you and turned around. He walked to his house knowing you'd sure leave him at this point. Until he heard footsteps and then saw your figure walking beside him to his house, he was confused ofcourse,

" you ... do you wanna come inside."

you looked at him with the expression of an annoyed girlfriend, the one he enjoyed extremely, " ofcourse, I need to get to my home, and these walls and rooms aren't my home, you are Marc, you are."

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #marc spector x you #steven grant x y/n #jake lockely x reader

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italoniponic · 2 years

Text

Just the Two of Salmon(us) | Sebek Zigvolt

Synopsis: You invite Sebek for a small lunch date on the weekend over this restaurant that you came to know that serves the best salmon of the region. And, with Sebek being Sebek, hilarity obviously ensues.

Sebek Zigvolt x gender neutral reader / small scenario / fluff, hc/canon lore and silly crack / reader has the most difficult love rivals / 1090 words / use of “you” pronouns

Notes: I dedicate this for all Sebek stans and simps, inspired by @estcaligo ’s awesome art about the biggest rival against sebyuu: salmon! this man is a clown m-maybe i love him??? idk It’s a bit shorter than my usual scenarios but considering that it’s a simple idea and I was writing more for fun, I couldn’t extend much. I could. Believe me. You maybe had read my latest Sebek scenario, it was loooong. But I have other fics and things I need to write before my guilt hunt me down~ hope this is good enough for at least make someone smile a bit <3

Just the Two of Salmon(us)

You didn’t know how to react to that scene. While you were still on your first plate, Sebek was finishing cleaning the fifth grilled salmon dish he had ordered. You glanced at the restaurant owner who stared back at you, the two of you connecting your souls in only two thoughts:

“How could Sebek eat so much and would he have enough money to pay?”

Not that you were ignorant about this fact when you invited your boyfriend to lunch on the weekend. You just assumed that he wouldn’t ask for five plates at once. But, then again, you should have seen that coming.

All you wanted was to spend time with Sebek and rescue him from whatever meal Lilia would be making — or trying to make — at that moment in Diasomnia.

Sebek has never been more grateful. Of all humans, you were the most formidable for being able to help him in these moments of despair. When all seemed lost, you would emerge in your mortal littleness to reach out to him.

The only guilt Sebek felt was that he needed to leave Malleus in Lilia’s culinary inept hands — but even if it would cost him to say it out loud, he trusted Silver to take care of everything.

Anyway, Sebek’s mind was quickly distracted when he saw the large sign of the seafood restaurant you were taking him to. That fisherman’s restaurant had the best fish in the area, among other sea species. You chose the place precisely because you heard so many good things about their salmon.

Sebek felt a little embarrassed at first when you commented that you realized how obsessed he was with salmon — your words, precisely.

It was indeed an interesting discovery.

While you were waiting for your requests, Sebek talked about how the fishing culture in the Valley of Thorns wasn’t as strong as the human's but fishes could constitute some parts of the fae cuisine, especially in surviving training.

As a complete territory, the extension of the Fairy Briar Valley was isolated by the sea, and the Flower faes’s region had more freshwater lakes and rivers with small fish.

However, Sebek’s grandfather sometimes personally went fishing for salmon in the sea and would bring it when he returned from these kinds of occasional trips.

Old Baul Zigvolt used to only bring salmon for his daughter, in a way to get a little closer to her — though he was still stubborn about not approving of her marrying a human. But when little Sebek was delighted to taste a grilled salmon dish made from the fish caught by his grandfather, he started doing it for the bright smile his grandson would give him.

Since then, both Baul and Sebek’s older siblings started taking him to salmon fishing. On the occasions when the grandfather couldn’t go, Osiris and Serket went to explore the shores of the sea and some nearby rivers with their little brother.

So much so that salmon carpaccio became his favorite food.

“It reminds me of home,” was Sebek’s usual comment on the subject.

These words were finished by a big smile, whose white teeth shone like lightning in the dark night. It was the same smile Sebek had on his face as he wiped his lips with the napkin. More than satisfied, he was completely, genuinely happy.

You put your fork aside for a moment, sighing but smiling too. He was so adorable.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have any crumbs on my face?,” Sebek asked, passing the napkin in his mouth once again.

“No. It’s just... I'm glad to see you seem to be having fun.”

“And how could I not? Salmon is such a wonderful fish and the chef here is to be congratulated. The cooking point, the seasoning, the preparation, the presentation... I would not be ashamed to invite the Young Master to come and feast on such good food. And that’s a lot considering they’re humans and the Young Master is used to the finest cuisine in the royal palace. However! These salmon are tender, practically melt in the mouth. My taste buds feel blessed!”

“I’m happy to hear that, really,” you laughed. “Is it okay if we go now? We still have a few more things to do.”

Sebek nodded and you called the waiter to ask for the bill. To your surprise — and all the employees’ too — your boyfriend had enough money to cover his share.

But Sebek still went on to talk about how nutritious salmon was, the quality of the fish was second to none and that next time they should invite Malleus to lunch there.

“But then it wouldn’t be a date,” you tried to argue. “Like... you know, a date between the two of us.”

“I understand. But after you have revealed to me this restaurant that serves the best salmon on the island, it is my duty to ensure that the Young Master is also graced with this knowledge and... w-why are you looking at me like this now?”

You stared deadpan at Sebek.

“Can I ask you a question and you will answer it sincerely?”

The half-fae didn’t understand at first, however, given your gaze, he agreed in the same way.

“Imagine a hypothetical scenario: near a strong river stream, someone is burning salmon on the grill while me and Malleus are drowning in the river. Who will you save first?,” you launched the challenge.

“Well, of course I save…”

Sebek stopped in mid-sentence. He held his chin for a moment, thinking about the possibilities and scenarios. As the minutes ticked by, Sebek grew increasingly desperate in his internal questioning, reassessing priorities and urgencies. His expression went into such agony that your brief impatience turned to pity.

And pity, inevitably, turned out to be amusement. You laughed softly and touched Sebek’s shoulder affectionately to relieve his stress — you could see the storm that was his thoughts.

“Nevermind. Part of me knows it would be even harder if I included your mom and Lilia in the middle of it,” you said, taking his hand and continuing on the walk back to school.

“I'm sorry I failed your test, dear. I must get stronger to make better decisions in less time!,” Sebek proclaimed, determination in his eyes.

You smiled, always charmed by his inexhaustible energy. One thing quite clear was that Sebek had only three things he valued more than anything in life: you, Malleus, and salmon.

You just gave up asking in what order.

Special notes: Sebek's heart is big enough to squish the three of them inside, that's my theory.

Edit 05/11/2024: Sebek's granpa name is officialized in canon as Baul/Baur Zigvolt. And I corrected some mispelling errors such as "Do you have crumbs in my face?" 💀 I'M SO SORRY

#twisted wonderland #sebek zigvolt #sebek zigvolt x reader #gender neutral reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst scenarios #fluff with more comedy #cherry's writing #cherry's mumbling about twst

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hazerun3 · 6 months

Text

btw for the last ask I may have a fic wip thats very similar

also pre apples swapdream

Heavy rain had always been calming to Nightmare.

He'd never admit it aloud since he knew Dream had an aversion to it, it was cute how the elders' confidence would waver at the sound of thunder. Protecting Nightmare was important to him and the younger would always play along even as it was clear Dream was trying to comfort himself with his words more than Nightmare.

The twins didn’t have a way to shield themselves from the elements the way the villagers did, there was a limit to what even their Mother was capable of protecting them from. Numbness was already seeping its way through Nightmares bones as he waited, it filled him with a sense of calm even as he felt his bones rattle uncontrollably. Time seemed to pass both faster and slower. It was a shame he couldn't read in this weather, but he didn’t mind too much. Nightmare had long since finished all the books Dream gifted him twice over, the flow of books had slowly trickled away once the villagers realised it all immediately made its way to Nightmare. It was fine though, Nightmare had more than enough to keep himself entertained and he had taken to committing his favourites to memory.

He hummed a nonsensical tune to himself, barely hearing his own melody over the deafening pattering of the rain and occasional roll of thunder. Not that he cared too much, lost in his own world as he replayed his favourite stories over and over. Lightning added to the scenes as it illuminated the darkening sky. Tales of nobles in castles too grand for them to imagine and flowery verses in awe of natural beauty, odes to great dragons and love and fantastical birds of pure fire…

Where was Dream anyway? It had been quite a while since the rain got so heavy that all the villagers retreated back under the cover of their homes. Was Dream working on the far side of the village again? That would explain why the earlier group didn't have a lookout. Nightmare touched the side of his face again, he was too numb to tell how bad the bruising was. If he was lucky it wouldn't be visible when Dream returned. If Dream returned tonight that is.

Pain blossomed from somewhere in Nightmares chest, making itself known even from under the blanket of numbness that enveloped him. Dream hated storms and lighting terrified him, one of his friends could have offered him to stay at their house. He could have taken the offer. Nightmare wished he could say he wanted him to. It would be nice to be shielded from the rain for the night with a fireplace to keep him warm. Dream worked so hard to help the village with the firewood it only made sense that he'd take the chance to enjoy the fruits of his labour.

Leaving Nightmare alone.

But that was fine. Dream wouldn't even have to worry about Nightmare’s safety. No one else was outside in this weather after all and Mother would still be there, unmovable and eternal.

Nightmare dropped his head to rest it on his arms where they hugged the top of his knees. He couldn't tell if his tremors were from the cold or if he'd started crying again.

At some point the wind shifted directions, hitting part of his side. The blanket of numbness had enveloped him again so he didn't bother moving. Dream would be upset by it, but Nightmare had already given up on the idea that he would be back before the rain ended so it didn't matter. He just wished to sleep and hopefully wake up with his brother back by his side to make the next day bearable.

dw guys swad shows up next paragraph to make it better

#swapdream #haze rambles #delete later

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highwaytothedangerzone502 · 13 days

Text

Foxtrot Alpha Alpha - Chapter 38

Pairing: Hangman x Female OC

Word Count: 2104

Warnings: Swearing, insinuation of sex

Summary: Hangman learned his lesson a long time ago to never show his true feelings when someone's words or actions hurt him. To do so showed weakness that could be exploited, and Seresin men couldn't show weakness. Of course, there was an exception to every rule, and Jake's always came in the form of women, three in particular: his mom, Juliette Kazansky, and the girl whose name he could no longer bring himself to speak. She was the girl that got away; she was his biggest 'what if' and his biggest regret; she would forever be the ghost that haunted his dreams. Jake believed that's where she'd stay, for he would surely never see her again after what he did.

Or so he thought.

Notes: This is the sequel to India Lima Yankee; I'm using the same callsign for the Female OC as in Ghost Story because I just really like it, but they are different characters; chapters in italics are flashbacks.

Chapter Songs: Exile The Last Time

****

Ghost

When Ghost finally returned to her own apartment later in the day, she ended up going back to Hangman's with a bag of stuff and stayed overnight.

And the next night.

And the night after that.

This happened for the next couple of weeks, but she hardly minded. Ghost had missed having Hangman around, to be able to tell him immediately when something funny happened or when she just needed to be around him because his presence calmed her frayed nerves. They played guitar and sang songs together, and posted them on her Instagram account. Only Jules, Jackie, and Wolfie recognized the new companion in the blurred videos as Hangman, and all of them texted Ghost demanding answers about her new relationship with the Texan aviator. Ghost realized that she and Jake had probably confused their friends and family by covering Taylor Swift's 'Exile' and 'The Last Time,' which weren't exactly happy love songs.

Ghost continued to shield herself from the outside world, ignoring her mom's phone calls and only texting Charlie to declare that she needed space. This was a partial truth. The other truth was that Ghost ached to detach from the chaos around her and spend her days with Hangman in his cozy apartment, relishing the bubble of peace and happiness he brought her before confronting her next challenge.

"What are the plans for tomorrow?" Hangman asked while he and Ghost scrubbed the dishes from dinner. "Should we go for a drive? Head to the beach? Maybe we could visit Princess and-"

"Oh, speaking of Juliette," Ghost remarked, glancing at the buzzing phone on the counter beside her. She answered it and put it on speaker, letting her friend know as such.

"Hey, how are you doing?" Jules's chipper voice sounded forced, causing the two pilots to share a concerned glance.

"I'm good. How are you? You sound like something's wrong," Ghost replied casually in hopes her gut instinct turned out to be incorrect.

"Honestly, I've had better days. Can I ask you a huge favor?"

Hangman turned off the faucet and braced himself on the counter to hear better while Ghost said without hesitation, "Of course. What's going on?"

"Rooster and I are going to head to the hospital after we return home with the dogs because my blood pressure spiked and won't come down. Would you and/or Hangman be able to watch Raptor and Lightning for a few days until we return?"

"Absolutely. We'll finish the dishes, pack our bags, and head over."

"You're both saints. Rooster and I will drop off the keys to the house on the way to the hospital. Also, we have a ton of food, so help yourselves to anything you'd like while we're gone."

"Sounds good. We'll see you in a bit."

Ghost hung up and chewed her lip, mind racing over Juliette's health. Hangman slipped an arm around her waist and kissed the side of her head, saying, "I'll finish up here. You go pack."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, besides—" he nipped her lip playfully— "you have more to pack than I do."

"Yeah, because I don't immediately look like a god rolling out of bed like someone I know."

"That's because you look like Heaven, which I would argue is ultimately more beautiful than a god."

"You really need to get your eyesight checked if you think I look like Heaven in the morning." Ghost patted his cheek and started walking off, but Hangman grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him, pinning her against the counter. His green eyes pierced hers, devouring her soul and breath. He leaned next to her ear, kissed the sensitive spot below it, and whispered huskily, "You look and taste like Heaven to me."

They had somewhere to be, things to do, and Juliette to worry about, but feeling every inch of Hangman against her body, despite having felt him as such every single night since they reconciled, Ghost's mind could focus on one thing, and one thing only.

"Fuck," she breathed before dragging her hand into his hair to pull his head back just enough so she could crash her lips onto his. Hangman reacted instantly. His hands slid down to the backs of her thighs and effortlessly lifted her onto his counter. Ghost had always been curvy and self-conscious of her weight, and she had never had that perfect body like the models and actresses in magazines and Hollywood, but the man before her made all of that doubt disappear.

The doorbell rang, and Ghost groaned in annoyance at the interruption. "Oh, fuck me."

"Ignore it, and I will," Hangman replied between kisses to her chest. Deciding his idea better than answering the door, she obliged and continued the makeout session with her man, knowing it would inevitably lead to more until-

"Hangman? Is Ghost with you?" The voice shattered the passion between the two aviators as Ghost stilled, her eyes locking with Hangman's.

"What's Maverick doing here?" she whispered.

"I don't know," he said, and judging by the crease between his brows, Ghost determined he meant it. "He won't leave until we answer, though. If you don't want to face him-"

"I'm going to have to at some point. I'd rather have support when I do."

"Then let's continue this later." Hangman gently pulled Ghost off the counter, and she took a deep breath to steady herself. Kissing Hangman once more, she tore herself away from him and, plastering on an expression that feigned indifference, opened the door.

"Hey, Maverick," Ghost greeted. Her voice came out steadier than she expected but also quieter, exposing her true feelings about the situation at hand.

Relief flashed in his misty green eyes. "Hey, Ghost. I, uh... your mom called me. Said you weren't talking to her and wanted me to check on you. Make sure you're alive."

"Honestly, I'm surprised she didn't ask you sooner," Ghost admitted shyly, moving aside. "Would you like to come in?"

Maverick hesitated, then stepped inside, taking in the scene before him: Ghost's shoes next to Hangman's, her jacket hanging on the hook beside his, and Hangman himself still standing behind the kitchen counter where Ghost had left him. She wondered why he remained there but quickly deducted after their brief but intense makeout session that he probably had a particular reason for staying there lest Maverick figure out what activity they'd been engaging in before he arrived.

"Hey, Pops," Hangman said casually, shifting back to the sink and scrubbing the remaining dishes and pans.

Maverick nodded in acknowledgment. "Hangman. I'm assuming you know about-"

"That my girlfriend is your daughter?"

A small thrill bubbled in Ghost's chest at the sound of her title to Hangman. She'd been wondering what they were now that they'd crossed that line with each other, had wanted to assume they were dating, but hadn't been able to bring herself to ask the question even after all these years in fear she'd find herself dreaming up false fantasies.

Maverick's head cocked. "You two are dating now? Since when?"

"It only just happened," Ghost said with a shrug, regaining her ability to speak. "Uh, we have to pack, but if you'd like to continue talking, you're welcome to."

"Are you up to it?"

"I don't think I ever will be, so no time like the present. Come on." Ghost motioned for Maverick to follow her, and Hangman said he'd join them shortly. Ghost shot him a knowing grin, which he flipped her off in response when Maverick wasn't looking. Having Jake here, even if they weren't in the same room, brought Ghost a tremendous amount of comfort.

When they reached the master bedroom, Ghost pulled out her duffel bag from under the bed and began grabbing her clothes from the closet and dresser drawers. An incredibly awkward silence fell over the Captain and Lieutenant, both trying to formulate some sentence to break the tension between them until finally, Ghost quietly asked, "How long have you known?"

"I received confirmation about it around the same time you did, but I'd started suspecting it before then. Your flying in the air reminded me a lot of myself when I was your age, not to mention your age aligned with when your mom and I met in California the second time. When did you-"

"Started wondering the night you found me on the beach. Some of the things you said made me question things, so I had Jackie help me with the investigation."

Maverick sat in the chair in the corner of the room, his eyes swirling with so many emotions that Ghost couldn't determine a single one. And, rather than have the awkward silence envelop them again, Ghost did what she did best in such situations. She rambled. "Outside of you and obviously my mom, no one else knows about my newfound heritage except my sister and Hangman. I'll tell Jules and Rooster at some point, but maybe after she gets out of the hospital."

Maverick stiffened. "Juliette's in the hospital?"

"They're heading there tonight. Depending on how long you stay, you might see them. They're dropping off the keys to their place so Jake and I can watch the dogs." Ghost swallowed the slight pang of jealousy at the relationship between her best friend and her father. She had no right to feel such a thing. Ghost had no idea who Maverick was to her until recently and had had an amazing dad growing up, whereas he'd been like a second father to Juliette since she was a toddler. They would always have a bond that Ghost doubted she'd ever have with him. Still, she wanted one like it. It's not like he had ignored her all these years. Maverick hadn't known about her. Then Ghost realized something, and the question burst from her before she could stop it. "What would you have done? If you'd known about me sooner?"

The Captain hesitated, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly. Ghost regretted asking the question despite being unable to stop it from escaping her lips, but Hangman—whether he knew of his impeccable timing or not—entered the room and said, "Bradshaw and Princess just got home and are packing some stuff before swinging by. They should be here soon."

"Oh, good. I should be done shortly, so we can leave after they do, if not at the same time as them," Ghost replied nonchalantly, praying to whatever gods existed that Hangman wouldn't notice the tears rimming her eyes. If he did, he mercifully refrained from pointing them out. Still, Ghost had to get out of the room, if not simply to catch her breath and steady her racing heart. "I'll be right back. I left my phone in the kitchen."

It was a blatant lie, but Ghost could pass it off as forgetting that she'd put it in her pocket earlier. Enough had happened in the past few minutes to warrant the memory loss of such an insignificant event.

Deep breaths, Annalise. Deep breaths... She repeated the mantra in her head while she walked purposefully to the kitchen, only to sag against the kitchen bar once she rounded the corner and out of sight from Hangman and Maverick, unwilling to let either man see how horribly the whole situation affected her. Ghost hated showing weakness. It was one thing in front of Hangman. At least, now it was. But Maverick... she could see him struggling himself, but Ghost wouldn't let him pity her or, even worse, act on that pity.

Get it together. Stop crying and get your shit together. Juliette and Rooster need you, and the last thing you want to do is make them worry about you again when they should be focused on Juliette's health. Ghost furiously wiped the tears from her cheeks and huffed an annoyed sigh at herself. Easier to be mad at herself than sad.

After checking her reflection in her phone's camera to ensure any evidence of her mild breakdown was erased, she went to the front door, where her backpack lay nearby.

Ghost had just started bending down when the door flew open. She barely jumped back in time to avoid being struck in the head, but not the calloused hand that firmly grasped her elbow and yanked her to him.

Ghost let out a short scream before the man clapped a hand over her mouth and snarled, "Shut up. This is what you get for not talking to me when I asked."

Ghost's blood ran cold at the words and at the man she now recognized before her.

Kyle.

****

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impossiblycolorfulpanda · 7 months

Text

Azulaang - dignity

ATLA AU where Azula captures the avatar and all of Ba Sing Se.

Aang was in a fire nation room almost similar to the one where he was captured by Zhao. His wrists were chained but on the floor this time.

Mai walked in with a plate of food.

Mai: "(unenthused) Here's some stuff to fatten you up. Hope you enjoy it."

Aang took a deep breath and exhaled, which sent a huge gust of wind at her, covering Mai in the food. This infuriated Mai, she charged at him and raised up her fist.

Mai: "Why you little-"

Azula quickly grabbed Mai's forearm.

Azula: "What seems to be the problem?"

Mai: "I tried feeding this punk but then pulled a stunt and made a mess!"

Azula: "(To Aang) Now why would you go and do that for?"

Aang: "I'm not giving you people the satisfaction of giving up what's left of my dignity!"

Azula: "(To Mai) Leave us."

Mai gave Aang a quick death glare and complied. Aang and Azula's faces were 10 inches away from each other.

Azula: "We both know that Miss Peasant quickly used a water vial to revive you from my lightning only to abandon you when she realized you were dead weight."

Aang: "You used that same line before, and I already told you she'd never do that. Katara and the others will come back for me."

Azula: "Be that as it may, you were given a second chance, and I could've taken it way in an instant, but I didn't. I even allowed you to get patched up and healed. That doesn't mean I can't still end you at any time. As of now, your life is in my hands, so you'd be wise to appreciate my generosity."

Aang: "You kill me, then I'll just be reborn, and you'll have to search for the avatar all over again."

Azula: "If I had to take a guess, you'd be born at one of the water tribes. I understand that the South tribe isn't doing so well, and its best warriors have all gone away. Wiping them out would be easy. I understand that the north is much more resilient but not when our comet returns."

Aang: "You might as well finish me off now because when the comet does arrive, you're just gonna take out the remaining nations and destroy the cycle anyway. But wouldn't you be surprised to know that, in doing so, you'll just unleash a dark and chaotic force from the spirit world that'll wipe your nation from existence next."

Aang noticed a mild flicker of concern in her bright eyes, her eyebrows were raised slightly, and her arrogant smug vanished. This is due to the fact she can tell he's not lying, and she knows of the news about the avatar summoning a giant fish-like creature that killed Zhao and most of his entire fleet. Aang started focusing on every inch of her face. He found her cute and attractive, in a dangerous warrior kind of way. He began to let go of his anger and defiance and started to feel empathetic towards her.

Aang: "I know you love your nation. It's in grave danger and the only way to save it is to end this pointless war before it's too late."

She closed her eyes for a second and retreated to her usual aloof expressions. She placed her pointy-fingered hand on Aang's face.

Azula: "If you want to be treated with respect and dignity and have no harm inflicted on you, then you must do what I say and when I say it, no questions asked. You can start by keeping that nonsense to yourself."

Aang realized he wasn't gonna get through to her so easily. His best options were to cooperate and get to know her and her motives, at least until he's rescued by the team during day of black sun.

Azula: "Now, as my special prisoner, you'll constantly be bound and supervised but I will allow you to be in more comfortable environments, maybe even give you a tour around the homeland at some point, so long as you behave yourself and accept our offerings for any of your needs. Can you do that?"

Aang: "Yes."

Azula nodded her head with approval removed her hand.

Aang: "My name is Aang by the way."

Azula: "Hmph. Good to know."

#atla #azaang #azulaang #aangzula #sort of #its more of a tease

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moonmoon-ren · 4 months

Text

Sweetness, Sand and a Treehouse

An Unexpected Date

!!! this story has a slight/mild NSFW themed part, nothing explicit however !!!

After Sequoia inviting Ren for an informal "dinnerdate" at the beach earlier the two Vieras returned to the Cabin to get dressed for the occassion. Ren was very curious and excited to see what Sequoia was up to. He suddenly had been very acting mysterious, teasy and overall adorable, caring. Sequoia had been like this since he met him back in the Skatay Range though, but it was more intenser now.

Soon the two Vieras found themselves at the table outside, enjoying the food, the warm tropical evening and ... each other's company.

Honestly Ren, the mammets make delicious food! I have never eaten such curious meals in my life before, what did you call it ? a pizza ?

Yes, a pizza. Eorzean cuisine is very strange, but somehow very nourishing.

Aghh Ren, I could live in a place like this, you know ?

You're welcome here Sequoia. I would like it even when you would want to live here.

Ren could not help himself again. Sequoia was so beautiful this evening, he took the time to get ready and dressed. It was so adorable to see. And then when he talks ... Ren could listen hours to him. It was clear that infatuation was taking over.

After finishing their meals, being a large La Noscean Pizza "Island Style", and a very sweet dessert made from the local fruits, the two Vieras talked for a good while again. Mostly Sequoia talking about some small adventures, and how his Woodwarder training went, and some funny jokes, tales and cute gossips about their other friends.

Oh Ren, when Koori and Kaen return with our friends I should mention that Dorian and Faunus are a couple. They found their way to each other.

Really ? Ahwww, but they are perfect together. Faunus really deserves someone as caring and loving as Dorian. And they share a similar passion for nature. So we have two couples in our friendcircle then ?

Hmhmhm. Sequoia nodded mysterious.

Akane and Ash already were together when they came live with the Greenleaf Tribe. Now Dorian and Faunus. This will be fun when they all are here.

It's great to see them together like this. Sequoia's expression got a bit more serious now.

And then we also have Koori and Kaen, the twins. Who seem to not being able to be in a relationship with someone for long. One way or another they struggle with it. Mostly because of jealousy. And Dawn, my brother, choose to live on his own I think.

Ahah. And what about you Sequoia?

What about me ?

Yes. Did you found someone to share your life with?

Sequoia froze where he sat.

Ren ...

Sequoia only spoke Ren's name and then went completely silent, slightly trembling. He stood up and walked away further in the garden. Leaving Ren sitting there at the table. Ren needed a while to gather himself and walk to Sequoia. He found Sequoia standing underneath the Wisterias in the garden.

Sequoia ?

Silence.

Ren stepped a little bit closer.

Sequoia ? Ren asked again with a more softer voice and more concern.

Ren.

What is the matter? Did I say something wrong? Did something happened? I did not mean to sa-

Ren ...

Sequoia was trembling but also smiled at Ren.

The two Viera stared at each other for a moment, until Sequoia broke the silence. He walked to Ren and took Ren's hands in his, and looked Ren in the eyes.

Ren, there is something I want, no, need to tell you.

Sequoia ... Ren stared right into Sequoia's green eyes, he saw a light in them, something he saw a few times before, but never so intense as now.

Ever since I've met you, ever since we became friends. I have a always been feeling this strange feeling in myself. This feeling evolved over time into something bigger I think. When i'm with you now, and then I feel my heart is going to jump out of my chest, I feel like my eyes are fixed onto you and I can't look away, when I touch you I feel like a lightning bolts rages trough my body.

That day, Ren, that day you left with your father and never came back, I wanted to burn the world to find you.

Ren ... I ... Sequoia got interrupted by Ren throwing his arms around him and embracing him very fierce.

"I love you Ren, I always have."

I'm sorry Ren ... I ... if I ... if I ... Sequoia was trembling and nervous.

Ren placed his head sideways on Sequoia's right shoulder, and his right hand on Sequoia left shoulder. He listened to Sequoia's accelerated heartbeat and felt how warm Sequoia's body was. What Ren just heard was magic. He was about to do something. Its time to release the coils of the past.

Ren, say something ... please.

Ren didn't say anything, instead Ren plunged himself onto Sequoia and kissed him. He wrapped his legs around Sequoia's legs because Sequoia was certainly a bit taller then him. Sequoia returned Ren's kiss.

Their lips touching.

Their arms wrapped around each other.

Their bodies hot.

Their heartbeats, uncontrollable.

It was sweet, it was amazing, it was magic.

For how long did we do this dance ? It has always been there and we never aknowledged it. But now we're here. You and me, me and you.

No one knows for how long they shared their first kiss. Nervousness made place for excitement. They stared each other in the eyes, it had been like this since Sequoia shared his feelings for Ren. Neither could turn their gaze from one another. But it was this time Ren who finally broke his silence.

I love you Sequoia. I always have as well. I wanted to tell you so many times and i just couldn't. Because I was afraid.

But now we don't need to be afraid anymore Ren.

Sequoia held Ren as if he was the most precious thing on earth. He leaned in closed and stared into Ren's eyes again, for a moment. Their eyes betrayed their excitement. The light that has been there before changed into fire. Passion. Desire. They both had felt it in their body, the feeling that awakened when they kissed, a longing. For years they have kept the feelings of love from one another, and now its there. Open.

Ren ... I ...

Sequoia's voice sounded more deep, seductive, excited but sensual.

I want you, he whispered while still captivated by Ren's gaze.

Follow me, Ren's voice sounded equally sensual.

!!! Mild NSFW content below - no explicit, only hints !!!

Ren and Sequoia went upstairs to Ren's bedroom where they slowly undressed a little and made moves like cuddling, kisses. Their desire was growing...

What then followed was a night of intense passionate lovemaking. Two lovers who were always meant to be, finally united in the most pure form of love. Entangled into each other's embrace. The night suddenly got very hot, sweaty, and filled with desire, longing and sweetness.

To be continued ? :p

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dumfanting · 1 year

Text

Tech Thot #1

AO3 Link

Rating: E, explicit, younglings be gone

Warnings: being tipsy, handjobs, cum eating, breast/nipple play, vibrators, being loud, being overheard, not plot just porn, slight dom/sub dynamics

This is one hundred percent self-indulgence, but maybe you’ll like it too! Another lightning-strike idea. It’s about time Tech got some anyway.

Word Count: 2181

F! Reader/ Tech

Tech surprises you for your birthday.

————

You push through the doors of 79’s and take a deep breath of ‘fresh’ air, the cool night breeze feeling amazing on your alcohol-flushed face. You’re a year older, as of three hours ago, but you’ve never had a better birthday. All of the boys were spoiling you, but Tech is especially attentive tonight. Not quite drunk, but not quite sober, you turn around to make sure he and the others have followed you outside, and stumble as you do. Tech catches you by the waist and even through your haze you can see the adoration on his face, which makes you giggle.

As you thank him with a quick peck on the cheek you can practically hear Crosshairs rolled eyes. You say his name and when you have his attention you flip him off.

“You offering?” he asks, clearly being sarcastic and making Wrecker laugh while Hunter watches with a tired shake of his head.

You manage to stand up and walk properly, saying “we’ve been out so late it’s tomorrow now, we gotta get back to the ship” and laughing at the face Echo makes while he tries to figure out what you just said.

Hunter catches up to you and says “I think she means it’s long past midnight,” before moving to the head of the group and leading everyone back towards the hangar Tech had parked the Marauder in. Echo and Crosshair follow him, then you and Tech, then finally Wrecker. They didn’t think anybody would be stupid enough to try anything with you but it had gotten to be such a habit now that you all just fell into place subconsciously.

Tech puts an arm around your waist and pulls you close enough to whisper into your ear “Crosshair inadvertently reminded me, I’ve made you a little something I want to try on you tonight,” making you shiver. The lust in his voice and unusual forwardness of his actions send a bolt of heat into your cunt and you bite your lip. You would have pulled him into the next alleyway with you if you hadn’t already reached the ship, and tell him so. He curses softly under his breath.

—

Once everyone’s back inside, you make your way into the bunks, grab a change of clothes (and a particular bra and matching panties), and duck into the refresher for a quick shower.

As the hot spray runs down your back, the heat between your legs intensifies and you’re sorely tempted to take care of it here and now, but you stop yourself. You didn’t want to burn out your energy just yet, if what Tech said was true.

With that in mind, you finish your shower quickly and get dressed, the oversized shirt and leggings hiding what else you’ve put on, then return to the bunks, sobered up by the warm water. Inside, everyone but Tech and Hunter have gotten into their bunks and pulled the curtains closed, Wrecker snoring already.

Tech catches your eye and you suddenly remember something. You grab that something out of a compartment under your bunk, and walk the few steps over to Hunter, getting his attention.

“We’ve got something for you Sarge,” you say, and Tech moves to stand beside you.

“Well, it’s more for the three of us,” he says.

Hunter's expression shifts from confusion to mild panic, and you can’t help but giggle a little. You hand him the thing you’d just retrieved, and he takes a moment to turn it around in his hands.

“Headphones?” he says, bewildered.

“Noise canceling headphones, which I of course built myself,” Tech says with a smirk. You giggle again when understanding suddenly hits Hunter. He glances between the two of you, then sighs and puts them on before climbing up into his own bunk.

The second Hunter draws his curtain, isolating himself, Tech is immediately on you, grabbing you by the hips and pulling you down into his bunk with him, kissing you like he’d never have another chance. You do the same, pausing only to slip out of your leggings, toss them aside, then straddle him. Your tongues dance and he groans. Your hands roam his body, quickly unclipping his armor purely by muscle memory.

Down to just his undersuit, Tech breaks away from you, panting and sweating already. You feel his hands pull at the hem of your oversized shirt, but grab him by the wrists and lean your weight forward, pinning him down and kissing him again. This continues until he groans your name, his voice thick with lust.

You release his hands and sit back up, peeling your shirt off and tossing it aside as you do. You sit back with a smirk as he gawks at you, shaking your body a little and showing off the brand new red and black set of lingerie you’d picked up a while back. While doing this, the crotch of your panties, already soaked, grinds down onto his straining cock, still held back by his under armor.

Tech groans again, his hands flying to your hips and holding you tightly enough to bruise, but you're too focused on grinding against him to care. He suddenly sits up, tearing his remaining clothes off and pushing you onto your back. Your positions switched, you can better see the hungry look in his eyes, and it sends a fresh wave of need into you.

You sit up enough to prop yourself against your elbows, spit into one of your palms, and unceremoniously take hold of Tech’s twitching cock, making him curse with a growl. He leans forward onto his hands, caging you beneath him as you steadily jerk him off.

With your free hand, you grab him by the jaw and pull his face down into yours, kissing him fervently again. Your other hand picks up speed and pressure, and Tech breaks away from your mouth with a gasp. His hips are twitching. He dips his head down into the crook of your neck, the feeling of his hot breath so close to your throat making you shiver.

You tangle your fingers into his thick curls and press his face into your neck. He knows what you want and nips at your skin, actually sucking a mark into your throat as his hips stutter. He cums with a growl, and the pressure of his teeth against your skin makes you whimper with need.

Panting, you both sit back up, and you still can’t keep your hands off of him, lightly dragging your nails along his spine and making him shiver. Noticing the mess he’d created across your chest, Tech surprises the both of you when he starts to lick you clean and his hands make quick work of the clasp of your bra. He mouths at your left breast, swirling his tongue around your pebbling nipple and making you groan his name.

“Fuck, Tech, please,” you pant, not sure what exactly you’re asking for.

He pulls away from you and says “by the Maker, you’re so beautiful like this, begging for me,” and you whimper his name again. “Don’t forget,” he continues, going into a compartment at the head of his bunk and retrieving something without taking his eyes off you. “I haven’t given you this yet,” he says, handing you the object.

You sit up and examine it; it’s a black cylinder that tapers to a rounded point on one end and has a single silver button on the other. You hit the button and the device vibrates intensely in your hand while making very little noise. You look up at Tech with a grin, knowing that he’d built this himself. You’re about to speak, to thank him, but he gently but firmly presses a finger to your lips, stopping you.

“Don’t thank me just yet my love,” he says, pulling his hand away and slipping the vibrator out of yours. “Allow me to demonstrate its use for you,” he continues. You nod eagerly and strip off your panties as quickly as you can, then lay back and open your legs for him. The cool air against your hot pussy is almost immediately replaced by Tech's hand, and the vibrator.

You clap a hand over your mouth out of habit, but Tech uses his free hand to pull it away. “Hunter can’t hear us,” he says, leaning down to whisper into your ear. “Be a good girl and let me hear those pretty sounds you make,” he continues. You meet his eyes and it strikes you just how lucky you are to have him. You sit up a little and press your lips to his.

The moment you do, Tech hits the button on the vibrator and holds it firmly and directly onto your clit, the sudden intense sensation making you moan loudly and without restraint.

“Yes my darling, just like that. You’re being so good for me,” he purrs, hitting the button again and making the vibrations even stronger.

You feel an all too familiar coil growing tight in your belly. You clasp your hands behind Tech's neck and yank him down to your level. “Tech, I’m so close, f-fuck,” you say, locking eyes with him. He smirks at you and pulls the vibrator away from your throbbing clit, making you whine his name.

“What do you say?” he says, clearly enjoying this.

“Please!” you say loudly. “Please Tech, I need to cum, I want to cum for you,” you continue, your pride taking a backseat as you beg desperately.

Tech smirks at you again. “There’s my good girl,” he says, clicking the button on the vibrator a fourth time. How many settings did the damn thing have?

Before the thought can fully form in your head, Tech grazes the tip of the vibrator against the very end of your clit, and you moan louder than ever before. “That’s it,” Tech says, growling in your ear again. “Cum for me darling.”

The coil in your belly snaps and you do just that, moaning his name unrestrained and experiencing mild convulsions. Tech holds the vibrator to your clit throughout your orgasm, only stopping when you rake your nails down his back, soaking his hand and the bedding below with a scream.

Tech, finally satisfied, holds the button on the vibrator for a few seconds, shutting it off, and setting it down somewhere behind him.

You sit up into a slouch, panting and gasping for your life and your hips twitching every now and then. Tech, ever the prepared one, retrieves a canteen from the same compartment and hands it to you. You accept it and croak out a hoarse thank you, taking small sips and pacing yourself.

Eventually, you hand the canteen back and he replaces it. He cups the side of your face, concerned. “Are you alright? That wasn’t too much, was it?” he asks. You shake your head, but his concern deepens. “Which question are you saying ‘no’ to?” he asks.

You wheeze out a small laugh. “I’m fine, Tech, it wasn’t too much,” you say, grasping his hand with both of your own. “One more setting though, and it would have been,” you continue.

Tech chuckles at you. “My dear, those were the low settings,” he says. Your jaw drops and you gawk at him, making him actually laugh as you shake your head.

With your breathing mostly back to normal, you turn around, laying down with your head at the proper end of the bed. Not seeming to care about the wet spot, Tech also lies down, pulling the sheets over the two of you. He turns onto his side, facing you, and holds you close to his chest, resting his chin against your forehead.

“Happy birthday, my love,” is the last thing you hear him say before falling asleep faster than you ever had before.

—

When you wake next, the chrono on your wrist tells you that it’s past noon. You sit up and stretch, yawning. You notice Tech is already up, but that’s nothing new. He’d been thoughtful enough to leave a change of clothes (and underwear) neatly folded at your feet. With a soft smile, you get dressed, then stand and leave the bunks.

You walk into the main area of the ship, sleepily making your way over to where Tech is, seated at his work bench as always.

You greet him with a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Whatcha working on today?” you ask.

Tech glances up at you, then back down to his work, clearing his throat. “It seems Hunter is not the only one who could benefit from the noise canceling headphones,” he says.

You feel a flush cross your cheeks and curse under your breath.

“Oh, it’s awake,” you hear Crosshair say as he walks into the room.

“Excuse you?” you say, turning to face him.

“You must have been replaced with a banshee last night,” he says, raising an eyebrow at you.

You turn back around, pointedly ignoring how Echo is doing a poor job of not laughing at you.

————

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baileys-writing-desk · 8 months

Text

In which a dragon gets pink nails

Link paints the old Thunder Dragon’s nails pink.

(spoilers for the end of skyward sword!)

AO3

Months after Link delivered the final blow to Demise, and he and Zelda moved down to the Surface, the hero makes his way to Lanayru Gorge to see his new friend. First he had traveled to the dragon’s current residence north of the desert, to find that Lanayru wasn’t there. He had gone to visit home today.

The Timeshift Stone has been deactivated and taken from the area, leaving a hot, barren landscape, so Lanayru can return. As Link walks up to where the dragon floats, he smiles to himself, thinking of the last time he was here to do the Lightning Round. After fighting eight bosses in quick succession, he now bears the strongest shield of all: the Hylian Shield.

“Link!” Lanayru exclaims in his cheerful, bellowing voice. “Hello there, it’s great to see you again!”

“Mighty Thunder Dragon, I have something special for you today…if you don’t mind.”

“Sure, why not?” The dragon shrugs his shoulders. “Let me see.”

Link reaches into his pouch, summoning the magic to bring out a thick paintbrush and a massive clear bottle filled with Luv’s bright pink polish, which he had used earlier to paint both his and Zelda’s nails. Knowing the size of his next recipient, he gathered more of the material to fill a much larger bottle.

“Hold out your claw for me,” he exclaims.

The dragon’s eyebrow furrows, and he stretches out a front claw, still many feet above Link’s head.

“No, I need to reach it.”

“What is this for…?”

“I’m gonna paint your nails!!” Link beams with delight, holding out his own hand. “Your claws will look just like this.”

“You’re gonna…paint my nails pink?” The Thunder Dragon lets out a hearty laugh. “I’ll do many things for you, but this is ridiculous!”

“Lanayruuuu,” Link whines, “pleeease?”

The dragon sighs with defeat. “….Fine.”

Lanayru floats closer to Link, lowering himself down onto the ground with his left claw sitting on the small round ledge. Link is brought back to his adventure, when the dragon laid in a similar manner while hacking up coughs, glancing at the hero with bleary eyes. He had been ill for so long, that surely he thought it was the end…and before Link intervened, it was. Although it has been over a thousand years for Lanayru, these events are still very recent for the young hero.

The dragon takes the bottle and brush with his other claw, placing each object on the ledge as Link hoists himself up. The hero dips the brush into the bottle and smiles as he begins to apply the first coat, on a pointy nail nearly as large as his body. Zelda had mixed silver sparkles into the polish, Link now realizes, and he chuckles slightly.

“Looks like your nails are gonna be sparkly!”

The Thunder Dragon groans, closing his eyes and letting Link continue without protest. It seems, however, that Lanayru isn’t too pleased with having pink sparkly nails. But since the two have become good friends now, they each often give in to the other’s demands reluctantly.

Link applies the paint across each of the dragon’s nails, for what seems like forever…until at last the coat is finished on one claw. The bright sparkles gleam in the sunlight, nearly an exact match to the hero’s own nails. This coat shows up well, to his relief, since there wouldn’t be enough polish left for another. He has already used so much.

“Okay Grandpa, give me your other claw,” he demands. “Blow on this one gently to help it dry quicker.”

“I’m really not that old.” Lanayru rolls his eyes teasingly, obeying Link’s request. Soon the other, non-pink front claw is on the ledge. “I’ve already got Faron and Eldin making fun of my age ‘cause I’m the oldest.”

Link begins painting on the second claw, grinning. “I’m not saying your age is a bad thing. Just that you’re like the grandfather I never had. It’s a compliment!”

“If you say so.” Lanayru laughs once again as he gently blows on the other claw, being careful not to touch it to his fluffy white beard.

While Link works, he quietly hums the Song of the Hero to himself, the song the dragons had taught him, and the song that led him to the Triforce. The back of his left hand now glows with the three golden triangles, even long after the defeat of Demise.

The Thunder Dragon’s eyes light up as he hears the soft tune. “Hey…that’s my song.”

“You bet it is. That’s why I saved you, old man!”

“Ah, right.” Lanayru’s booming voice turns somber. “You only saved me because of that song…you needed it. I would certainly have been left for dead otherwise.”

“Lanayru!” Link scolds, but then considers his own words. “I’m sorry…that was bad wording on my part. Sure, I needed the song, but I would have saved you even if I didn’t. That’s what heroes do, you know.” He pauses, taking a breath as he continues painting. “And that’s why I always come to see you, to keep you company, because I know you get lonely out here by yourself.”

“…I do.” Lanayru sighs. “That’s why I left this place. But sometimes I need to come back. Lanayru Province is my home, even…” He waves a pink-nailed claw at the desert around them. “Even like this.”

“You know, if I could bring your land back, I would.” Link explains. “Not just by going into the past with Timeshift Stones…I would return everything to how it was before, for good, so you could be happy again.”

“There is no need. This was bound to happen, Link, and nothing I could do would revive this place. Believe me, I tried, but…I couldn’t. Instead I left. There is nothing here for me to protect anymore. I was able to relocate most of the robots to save them, but some had already rusted…the facility is filled with sand and monsters, the sea is all dried up, everything that made this place great is…gone.” Lanayru holds up his newly painted claw again, the pain clear in his eyes, gaze distant. The mighty Thunder Dragon never cries, but this must be his equivalent. “You know this, hero. There is nothing you can do.”

“I’m so sorry,” Link mutters. “I shouldn’t have brought that up…I won’t from now on, ok?”

Lanayru remains silent, barely speaking a word as Link continues to paint, and the hero’s heart sinks in his chest. Why did you do that? He ponders over all the baggage the Thunder Dragon must carry on his shoulders, to watch the fall of the great Lanayru Province he was tasked to protect…

He apologizes again, but the dragon simply sighs. It seems he needs a minute to process his thoughts. Finally, Link uses the last bit of polish to completely cover the nail, and sets the brush down with a slightly sore arm.

“Here, your nails are finished.”

Lanayru’s gaze returns to the hero’s, eyes slowly lighting back up. “You’re done?”

“I am. Now do the same thing as the first one, blow on it. Just don’t pick at them, and it should last a little while.”

Lifting his claw up, the dragon slowly floats through the air to his original position, his large form towering over Link.

“You know, this looks pretty good.” He chuckles as he studies his nails. “Thank you.”

“See, I knew you would come around to it!”

“Link, I have an idea…” Lanayru hums in thought. “Let’s get out of this place. I wanna take you somewhere.”

…

Lake Floria is calm and quiet this afternoon, with the Water Dragon outside of her hall to bask in the fresh air. She dives under the water, circling around her small jellyfish friends, before resurfacing, splashing water across the lake with a chuckle.

The waterfall that she’d opened for Link, leading to the Ancient Cistern, is once again pouring in front of the dungeon, preventing anyone from passing through. Link has long ago obtained Farore’s sacred flame, and upon receiving the news that the young hero had defeated Demise and completed his adventure, Faron had closed it back up. There is no need for anyone to enter now.

Along with the noises of the waterfall and the splashing of the lake, the dragon almost misses the hearty laugh from up above. But the noise causes her to look up, only to see Lanayru the Thunder Dragon, flying down toward her.

Ugh. What does he want?

As the other dragon approaches, Faron notices something small and green on his shoulder, and realizes it’s a person. Link. The chosen hero. It has been quite a while since she and Link crossed paths, perhaps because her attitude towards him had driven him away.

“Howdy, Faron!” Lanayru bellows, dipping his lower body into the water to face her. “Look what Link did for me.”

He extends his front claws out for her, keeping them above the surface, and she gasps in surprise.

“Your nails…they’re pink!”

“Do you like ‘em?” Lanayru and Link both giggle, and she can’t help but scowl in response.

“I can’t believe you let him do that, Lanayru.”

“Come on, it’s a lot of fun!” The Thunder Dragon exclaims. “And if you’d like, Link can do the same to yours. Then we can match!”

Faron huffs, folding her scaly arms across her chest and rolling her eyes.

“Let’s get something straight.” She glares at the hero, still on Lanayru’s shoulder. “If you paint my nails PINK, you’re dinner!”

#bailey writes #skyward sword link #(my babyyyy)#lanayru the thunder dragon #faron the water dragon #a little bit of talk about lanayru desert #otherwise it’s fluff #…yeah 👍#luv is the woman who makes potions #it would make sense for her to make nail polish with all those ingredients lol #also i don’t usually write for sksw but this was fun i should mayhaps do more!

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