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nethhiri · 23 days ago

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Frankenheat's Monster

Warnings: sex (including threesome MFF and brief MM mention), somnophilia, reanimation?, classic old-timey mob violence

Setting: Frankenstein era-ish?

Finally finished my Halloween fic! Sorry it took so long! I hope you all enjoy it. It's a bit sillier than my typical writing.

"It lives! It lives!" You laughed excited. "Look at him, Freja." Your lovely assistant was just as excited as you were.

You grabbed each other's arms and spun in a circle celebrating. The creature on the table began to stir. His chest rose and fell, his eyes blinked, and he groaned. The man you had painstakingly assembled had finally been brought to life by a stroke of lightning. No one would understand the amount of work that had gone into him, the hours digging up fresh bodies looking for parts, thousand of needle pokes between the two of you sewing him together, and of course peeping through every window in the village on the hunt for biggest cock available.

What mattered the most was that your creation was beautiful and your crimes went unnoticed. He was tall. He was sculpted. He had the biggest, brownest sad eyes. And he was the proud new owner of the best cock in town, certified pre-owned.

You and your assistant took the leather restraints off of him. He struggled for a moment to gain control of his muscles before sitting up in a jerking fashion. He looked between you and Freja, cocking his head to the side. A few groans left him, like he was trying to say something.

"Take your time." You patted him. "It'll be a minute before you can function like a human." Your hand lingered on his thigh, appreciating the warmth it had now. You put your hand on your chest. "My name is Victoria Frankenheat."

"And I'm Freja," your assistant added. She picked up his hand and modeled shaking it. "Nice to meet you."

He groaned again. "FFfffnnnheeet." He clenched his fists, concentrating. "Hhhhheeeeee." Mimicking what you had done, he put his hand on his chest. "Heeeaat. Heat."

"Is that you? You can pick any name you want."

"Heat." He patted his chest.

"He's learning so fast!" You clapped your hands together, excitedly looking at Freja.

The two of you helped him stand, keeping him steady on his wobbly, baby giraffe legs. The two of you guided him to the room you had set up. It was simple. He had a twin bed, a dresser, and a mirror. The best part about creating a man from scratch was that you didn't have to reteach it everything. Some of the residual memories from the previous owner remained, which allowed him to speak and recognize objects. Freja went to the dresser and pulled out some clothes for him, helping to put them on. The pants were first. They may have been too small for him. It was a slight struggle to lace them up over his package. And even laced all the way, a tuft of blue-gray hair, matching the long locks on his head, poked from the waistband and trickled toward his belly button. It was an odd color but it matched his slightly gray skin tone. It, the skin, was barely noticeable, you hoped. The shirt fit much better. It wasn't much, just a thin linen shirt. You weren't sure if this would work or what size the creation would end up being, so you didn't have many clothes for him. You would have to go to town to get more.

Over the next several days, you played house. You and Freja cooked for him and taught him about various things he would need to function on his own. The two of you helped him bathe and showed him how to take care of himself. You even showed him how to tighten your corsets and lace up your boots so that he could help you both get ready to go to town.

_______________________________________________

Perhaps his appearance was more noticeable than you thought. As the three of you walked arm in arm, with Heat in the middle, the townsfolk gave him strange looks. Freja was just as surprised as you. Maybe the two of you had been over eager to take your creation on a walk. Every time you tried to walk into a storefront, they would hastily lock the doors and pretend to be closed.

"They're afraid of me."

"What? No! It's not you, hon." You squeezed his arm. "Freja just stinks horribly."

"Hey!" Freja protested but leaned into Heat. "Who cares if they're scared? We're not scared of you. We know you're a gentle giant."

Heat remained dubious.

The three of you walked on, to a part of town that would pay less attention to odd things. There was someone you wanted Heat to meet. You arrived at a battered bar. It hardly looked open but you were familiar with the owner. You went inside, helping Heat duck to fit through the doorway. A short, feisty woman smoking a pipe addressed you and slapped a shotgun down on the bar top.

"Well if it isn't the good doctor and her lovely assistant," Nan said sarcastically, blowing a puff of smoke toward them. Her eyes moved to the large gentlemen between the two of you. "So this is what you've been up to, huh?"

She held her hand out to the man. "I'm Nan."

Heat was pleasantly surprised to be directly addressed, and by someone who didn't appear to be afraid of him. He shook her hand. "Heat."

Nan observed the skin of his hand. "I recognize this one."

"Your... other business came in handy, literally." You smirked.

"Too bad this one worked. I could use some extra coin." Nan sighed, dismayed.

Nan moonlit as a grave robber. She was able to procure some of the parts that Freja and yourself were unable to find. She rummaged behind the bar and turned around with two drinks.

She nodded to Heat. "Can he drink?"

You and Freja shared a look and shrugged. You picked up one of the glasses and offered it to him. Heat sniffed it experimentally and threw it back in one gulp, wrinkling his nose and coughing immediately afterward.

"Whoa! Not so fast, big guy!" Freja patted his back.

Heat put a hand over his stomach and appeared distressed. A moment passed and Heat burped so intensely, a small flame burst from his mouth.

"Is that normal?" Nan asked skeptically.

You and Freja glanced at each other and shrugged again. Nan shook her head with a dubious look in her eye and poured another drink for yourself and Heat.

The three of you sat in a dark corner of the bar while Nan fixed drinks for others. There weren't many there, but they kept to themselves for the most part. They still shot wary glances towards Heat though. The three of you sipped your drinks and discussed getting Heat some better fitting clothes.

Freja took the empty glasses back to the bar when you had all finished your drinks. On the way back to the table, one of the more rowdy customers pulled her into their lap. She elbowed him in the chest and he released her, only to grab her wrist before she could walk away.

"Keep your hands to yourself," Freja spat, trying to break free from his grasp.

Before you could interject, Heat calmly walked to their table. You hadn't realized how much he towered over the average man until he was right next to them. They were practically white with fear when the intimidating construct reached them.

"That isn't nice." Heat grabbed the man's wrist until he released Freja, then let him go.

"Is that so? What do you know about "nice", you abomination?"

"I am not an abomination. My name is Heat."

The man stood up, sadly only coming up to Heat's chest in height, and stood toe to toe with him.

"I don't care what your name is. Something about you isn't right."

"Leave him alone," Freja shouted at the man.

Nan was unbothered by the scene, suggesting some regularity of occurrence.

"Heat," you reminded him, "it's okay to defend a lady... and yourself."

Heat turned back to the man, appraising him, before swiftly knocking him out and sending him flying into the bar. He looked back at you for confirmation that he did well.

You nodded once. "We should go."

Freja took Heat by one elbow and you laced your arm through his other one.

"Sorry, Nan." You called over your shoulder as you left.

"I always hated that guy anyway," she replied.

The three of you left before his friends could get upset, not that they would dare do anything now that they've seen how strong Heat was. Before you headed home, you ran into a store on your own and managed to get clothes that would fit him better. Heat had a somber air about him and was deep in thought on the trip back. For the next few days, he was like that. You and Freja reassured him that he wasn't "an abomination" and that people were uneasy because he was different. Both of you gave him extra affection and attention in an attempt to make him forget about it, but ever since that day, there was sadness in his eyes.

_______________________________________________

Several months had passed and Heat refused to go to town again. Occasionally you would have to chase off kids, and adults for that matter, who "wanted to see the monster". Heat enjoyed reading books from your collection, so if either you or Freja went to town, you would try to bring him a new one. It helped him with his vocabulary and learning to be human. He actually turned out to be much brighter than you had originally thought. He was also very perceptive and capable of critical thinking.

"May I ask something?" Heat looked up from the book he currently had.

"Of course," you answered.

"When you kiss Freja, it's on the mouth. When you kiss me, it's on the cheek. Why is that? Is it different?"

The question took you off-guard. "Well, yes." You cleared your throat. "Freja and I love each other and we're in a relationship with each other." You quickly added, "And we love you, too. It's just in a different way."

"Why?"

"Um, well, we love each other romantically, and we love you platonically, as a friend."

"But why can't it be the same way?"

You thought for a moment, trying to find words to explain. Of course, initially, he was created to be a companion for the two of you, however, since he turned out quite intelligent with a will of his own, it felt wrong to make those decisions for him. He was more of a good friend, an excellent friend really.

"I suppose it could be. It takes time for that to happen."

"How will I know?" He was asking all the difficult questions.

"You'll know. There's a warm feeling whenever you're with them. Your heart skips a beat whenever you look at them. You don't want to let them go once you have them in your arms. And so on."

"I see." Heat continued. "And do you think it's possible? For someone like me?"

There was a tinge of sadness in his voice. It was only fair that he thought like that, seeing as everyone he's encountered has been afraid of him, and that he was essentially a constant third wheel. He probably felt isolated.

"Of course it is." You stopped what you were doing and went to him. Gently, you removed the book from is hands, setting it aside. You wrapped your arms around him and squeezed. "You're perfect in every way. I know because that's how we made you."

He returned the hug, albeit a bit stiffly, softening his embrace at the end.

_______________________________________________

On an intensely stormy night, not unlike the one he was created on, Heat was awoken by the claps of thunder and bright flashes of lightning. This was the first storm he had experienced and he decided he was not very fond of them. The thunder shook the walls and he was scared it would bring the entire house down. Before he knew what he was doing, he found himself outside the door to your room. He thought maybe he should be there in case the house did crumble to the thunder. It was also a habit at this point to go to yourself or Freja when he needed comforting.

He pushed the door open slowly as the lightning illuminated your sleeping forms. Heat knelt on the foot of the mattress, trying the figure out how to squeeze himself into the bed too. He felt like he could go back to sleep if he was nestled between the people he cared about most. Gingerly, he pulled the sheet back. Both of you were wearing nightgowns, but they were pushed up by the tossing and turning in your sleep. Heat couldn't help but put a hand on the exposed skin of your leg. It was so soft, without any scars or marks. It was so different than his own. Freja's was the same.

The storm was all but forgotten as Heat became enchanted by the differences between himself and you. He ran his hand up the smooth, perfect skin of your leg, amazed by how soft you were. He had pushed up the rest of your nightie and was shocked to find that there was no dangling things like he had. The medical texts that you used weren't in your library, they were in the lab, so Heat was unfamiliar with the details of anatomy. Heat did the same to Freja for comparison. Equally as soft, equally as un-membered.

His hand traveled up the gown, under the fabric, and there were more soft things. Where his chest was firm, yours was malleable and squishy. Freja's was the same. Heat pondered these discoveries. As he did so, he became aware of his sleep pants becoming tight. He looked down and was taken aback by his dangling thing, which was less dangling and more poking now. He let it free from its confines, curious as to what it was doing. He gave it an experimental touch. It felt good, really good.

Freja stirred in her sleep, moving her leg and allowing Heat a better view of what biological females looked like. Heat still didn't see any dangling, or poking out, things. Though it looked like there could be something within the crevice. Heat didn't know that what he was doing was considered wrong. He thought he was doing some scientific type of investigation, like what you did in your lab. He, with great care, separated the two folds, expecting a secret dangling thing, but he only saw an opening. Heat thought for a moment. It looked about big enough for a finger. Maybe the dangling bit was inside and it came out to pee. He slipped his finger into the opening. There was nothing in there, but it was warm, and squishy, and wet. For some reason, thinking about it made his own dangling-now-poking thing jump and twitch, spilling some fluid from the tip.

Heat moved his finger around, making sure he didn't miss something. Freja made a noise in her sleep. He couldn't tell what sort of noise it was. It had't occurred to him that he might be hurting her, so he quickly retracted his finger just in case. He observed the fluid clinging to it, clear and just a little bit sticky. It had a sort of sweet musk. He gave it a tentative lick. It didn't taste bad. Then he tasted the fluid that leaked from the tip of his own thing. It was definitely different.

"Heat?" A sleepy voice came from Freja. "What's wrong?" Freja blinked sleep from her eyes, not startled by Heat, but noticing he had a... growing problem. They knew one day they would most likely have to help teach him about these things. "Oh, my sweet, do you need help?"

"It just happened." Heat seemed bashful. "I couldn't sleep because of the storm and I came in here. Then I was feeling how soft your skin was and trying to find your dangling thing and it just happened."

Freja noticed how both of your nighties were pushed up. She knew that he wasn't purposefully doing anything nefarious, just exploring. She nodded understanding.

"Let me help you with that and we can go back to sleep, yeah?"

Heat nodded.

Freja touched him experimentally. They did very well on him, she had to say. It took both hands to fully sheath him. She spit onto his shaft and jerked him off, showing him how to do it with his own hand.

"You can do this if it happens again. That feel good?"

"Mhm."

"There are other ways, but this is for when you're by yourself."

"What about the other ways?"

Freja laughed. "You want me to show you?"

Heat nodded.

Freja moved his hand away and took him in her mouth. She hummed an amused response when he let out a squeak of surprise. He wasn't expecting that the mouth was one of the ways. Freja covered him with saliva and used it as lube, putting her hand at the base of his erection and jerking off the portion she couldn't reach with her mouth. Again, she hummed her satisfaction with the member they procured for him. Freja bobbed her head up and down in time with her fist, reducing Heat to a confused bundle of sighs and moans.

"S-something's happening." Heat pushed Freja off his cock, worried about his body doing something strange. He didn't want to hurt her.

She attempted to slap his hand away, knowing full well what the "something" was, however he was very strong. As soon as her lips left him, he came, spurting white, viscous cum onto her nightie. Her hand was still around him and she worked him through his orgasm unit his dick stopped twitching.

Seeing the look of confusion on his face, Freja reassured him, "That's normal."

"That felt really... good."

Freja yanked off the dirty nightgown and tossed it to the floor.

"Is there... Is there a way I can do that for you?" He was momentarily captivated by her naked form revealed.

Freja quirked a brow. "There is."

"Can you... show me? I want to return the favor."

Freja thought for a moment. "I think it might be easier for me to demonstrate than for me to teach you on myself."

Freja wasn't going back to sleep now. She was plenty awake. She may as well make you just as awake as she was. It's only fair that way. She moved to your feet, carefully parting them to make room for herself between them.

"Watch what I do." Freja added, "Also, you should never do any of this to people while they're sleeping, unless you've agreed upon it beforehand. And we have."

Freja laid on her stomach and curled her arms underneath your thighs. She adjusted herself until she was comfortable, then she licked a fat stripe up the center of your pussy. Freja buried her face between your legs, slipping her tongue between your folds and swirling it over your clit. She made sure to point out to Heat where it was and explained that it was the most important part to pay attention to.

Heat watched her intently, fascinated by the way she made you twitch and moan while you slept. There were some noises that sounded a bit like you were in pain, but Freja reassured him that they were positive sounds. Heat was particularly interested when Freja added her fingers. It didn't hurt after all. In fact, it seemed the opposite was true. Her fingers pulled the moans from you more readily, until it seemed like you were shaking. Then, with one last cry of pleasure, your eyelids fluttered open and your back arched into the mattress.

When your orgasm subsided and you shook the sleep from your body, you finally noticed Heat in the bed with you. You were expecting it eventually, even looking forward to it.

"I was showing Heat how to give pleasure to a woman," Freja explained. She also recapped the prior events.

"Hm. I see."

"Can I try it?" Heat asked.

You and Freja exchanged a glance.

"Let's show Freja some love, hm? It's her turn."

Heat mimicked everything that Freja had done on you, very pleased with himself when Freja started to give him some feedback via moaning. You removed your own nightie and joined in, playing with her breasts. You took one of Heat's hands and placed it onto a breast, guiding him to squeeze and massage it, and give attention to the nipples. You coached him through it, telling him all the ways to make Freja unravel. He caught on quickly. Soon he didn't need any help and you could sit back, watch, and play with yourself. You didn't miss the way Heat's eyes flicked between what he was doing and what you were doing. And you definitely didn't miss the way his marvelous cock was getting hard again.

As Freja came, Heat lapped up everything she gave him. It was instinct you supposed. He wiped his face off on his shoulder, then became acutely aware of his own erection.

"Why did it happen again?"

"Did you like what you were doing? What you saw?" You asked.

Heat nodded.

"That's why."

Heat looked at Freja with pleading eyes, like he wanted her to "help" him again.

Freja smirked. "Let's do something else this time."

Freja and yourself had Heat on his back and stripped of his pants. You positioned yourself on top of him and stroked him, appreciating his size. You grinned. Freja and yourself did pretty well putting him together. You were proud of your work.

"What are you doing?" Heat appeared confused.

"I'm going to ride you, which is when I put your penis in my vagina and I sit on top," you pointed to the appropriate parts as they were mentioned. It was less than sexy to put it that way, but this was educational, not recreational.

"That's... not going to fit."

You laughed. "It will."

"Will it hurt?"

"No. But if you ever want to stop just say so."

Heat nodded.

Briefly, you took him into your mouth, lubricating him with saliva. Then you positioned yourself over him, guiding his cock into you slowly. Heat reflexively grabbed your hips when his cock pushed into your cunt, sharply inhaling and grunting. It was a tight fit, but his length disappeared completely after some work at it.

You moved your hips, slowly gyrating them at first so he could get used to the feeling. Then you transitioned to working him up and down. He used his grip on your hips to help you. You also let him set the pace. This wasn't so much about you getting off as it was Heat learning, so you wanted him to get the pleasure he desired from it. You bent down to kiss his chest, moving up his neck, and then to his lips.

"I thought you said kisses on the mouth were for romance," Heat questioned.

"They're not exclusive to it." You explained. "And many people reserve sex for romance as well, but you don't have to love someone romantically, or even at all, to have sex with them."

"But-"

You put a finger over his lips. "Ask me later, big guy. Let us help you feel good."

"C-can you do it again? The... kiss?"

You grinned, planting another kiss on his lips. You continued to ride him, waiting for him to moan so you could slip your tongue into his mouth. He made a surprised squeak but tried to mirror what you were doing. When you came up for air, Freja didn't let him rest, moving in to have a taste of his lips for herself. One of his hands left your hips to tangle into her hair and pull her in. You bounced on him faster, grinding your hips down onto him periodically. The string of whines that Freja devoured from his mouth was a reassurance that he was enjoying himself.

"It's- that thing- is happening again," Heat whined.

"That's okay. Let it happen." Freja cooed.

Heat panted heavily, letting out a long groan, eyes clenched shut. "It's- It's-"

"Good boy. Let it out."

Heat's expression changed into one of pleasure. He threw his head back and gave in, letting the feeling permeate his body. The hand that remained on your hip had you in a bruising grip as his dick twitched inside you, releasing ropes of cum. His whines and grunts subsided and he was left panting.

You pulled yourself from him and lay beside him on the opposite side as Freja. Both of you peppered him with tender kisses, relaxing into his side. He appeared dazed, maybe lost in thought.

"Was that okay?" You wanted to know what he was thinking.

Heat nodded. "When can we do that again?"

Freja answered, "Whenever you want, big guy."

That day was spent teaching Heat about different positions and techniques. You and Freja took turns, tagging out when each of you was tired. Heat, on the other hand, seemed to have boundless energy, and cum. He wasn't even particularly horny. It seemed like he was just trying to learn. It was the same reason he liked books so much. He wanted to learn everything there was to being human. The next few days, he insisted on practicing, not giving up until he could make each of you cum. The next few weeks, well, that wasn't simply learning or practicing. They had created a monster... figuratively. Of course they didn't think of him as such in a literal sense. In fact, he rarely slept in his own bed anymore, preferring to be with the two of you, even if sex wasn't involved. He craved touch and affection. It made him feel like less of a monster.

_______________________________________________

In the next few weeks, there was an increasing number of people trespassing on your property, sometimes with torches or pitchforks, raving about the "creature" and his crimes. Heat hadn't left the vicinity since that one and only trip to town, so neither you nor Freja had any idea what they were referring to. Freja had planned on going to town soon anyway for a few items, so she would investigate.

While she was away, you had Heat up on a table in your lab. It been some time since you created him, and everything seemed to be going smoothly. It was diligent, however, to make sure. You didn't want him to suddenly fall apart or anything. Carefully you inspected all his sutures. Nothing was amiss.

"Looks like everything is fine. Does anything hurt or bother you?"

"No," Heat replied.

"Do you feel okay in general?"

"Yes..." Heat hesitated.

"What is it?"

"Do you remember when you were explaining the differences in love?"

"I do."

"I think I understand now." Heat sat up and shifted his gaze to you. "Whenever I'm with you a-and Freja, I feel normal, human. My heart beats faster when I think about you. When Freja left, it made me sad to watch her leave, even though I know she'll come back. It feels right when I have you both in my arms."

You smiled warmly at him. "I agree. I think you understand now."

Even sitting on the exam table he was taller than you. Heat put his hand on your cheek and bent down, hesitating only to make sure you didn't pull away before gingerly placing his lips against your own. You returned the kiss, deepening it, letting him slide his tongue in to tangle with yours. It was fair to say that you and Freja both felt the same way for him. It was hard not to when that's what he was created for. It wasn't just that though. He was smart and kind and thoughtful. Whenever he went for walks, he would bring back a little wildflower for both of you. He learned how each of you liked your coffee or tea so he could bring it to you in bed. He even took care of you and Freja after long romps in the sheets, without either of you teaching him to. He was perfect.

Heat switched places with you, lifting you to sit on the exam table. His hands slid under your skirts and found your bloomers, which he promptly took off. He kissed your neck.

"You're so soft," he mumbled. "Not like me."

You traced the scars on Heat's face. "I don't want you to be like me. I want you to be you: perfect." You kissed every scar you could reach from your position. "Do you hear me? You're perfect."

"I am glad you think so."

"It's true."

Your lips met again and Heat's hand traveled to your hip, where he kneaded the plush flesh there. His other hand was at the back of your neck, pulling you into him, like he couldn't get enough of your taste. Heat pulled your hips to the edge of the table and pushed your skirts up to expose you. Your legs trapped his waist and pulled him into you, while your hands blindly searched for the ties to his pants, unwillingly to break the kiss to figure it out with your vision. You could feel the swelling within their confines, which soon sprung free into your hand. Heat's hand moved to cup your sex before slipping two fingers into you. He made a few experimental pumps, testing your wetness. Satisfied, he spread your slick down his shaft and positioned the head at your entrance. You signaled your urgent need to have him by tightening your legs around him, forcing him forward. Heat needed no other encouragement, sheathing himself inside you in one motion.

"Ngh, oh, fuck," you moaned.

"I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"No, on the contrary, it feels good. Very good."

"I never want to hurt you," he breathed, leaning in.

"You won't."

You closed the distance and covered his mouth with your own again. Your lips and his couldn't be apart for long. They always came back together, sharing the same breaths. Grabbing hands wandered, tugging, pulling, and gripping, desperate to force your bodies as close together as possible. Eager hips rutted together as if they were trying to meld into one body. You needed him to feel how much you cared for him. It was like you wanted to pour your love on thick, a shield that would protect him from the unwarranted hatred he felt from the village.

"I love you, Heat." You buried your face into his neck.

He waited for you to look at him before he replied. "I love you, too." He wanted to look into your eyes.

Heat lowered you down until your back was to the table and he was bent over you. His fingers intertwined with your own as he held your hands against the cold steel. Your moans echoed from the walls to the tall ceiling. This feeling was intoxicating. You wanted to be enveloped in this moment forever. Your kisses became sloppier and your moans more frequent as you began to unravel. Your back arched off the table. Heat's thrusts became more fervent, trying to push you over the edge without pushing himself first.

The wave of pleasure washed over you not long after. You cried out and your thighs nearly crushed the air from Heat's lungs with how hard they squeezed around him. Heat pressed his face into your shoulder and groaned as his own release followed yours, unable to resist your wet, gummy walls fluttering around him. You were both still, swimming in your shared orgasm, as you recovered.

"Well. It looks like I'll be disinfecting this room," Freja sighed from the doorway.

You jumped, only because you hadn't heard her come in, not because Heat was draped over you, still balls deep and you were ashamed about it or anything.

"Oh, you're back! That was fast," you remarked.

"I've been gone for hours."

"Really?" You looked at Heat bashfully, as if asking confirmation.

"It's been quite a while, my flower." He kissed you tenderly on the forehead before straightening himself up.

You sat up and pushed your dress back down. "How long have you been watching for?"

"Too long." Freja rolled her eyes. "But... I love you both, too."

After cleaning up, you and Heat joined Freja in one of the common rooms. Freja handed Heat a small parcel containing another book from town, something she picked up while investigating what was going on in town. He flipped through the pages while you two talked, eyes flicking up to listen every so often. Freja had gotten some information from Nan and had found out that livestock had started disappearing weeks ago. More recently, people had mysteriously stopped coming home after venturing into the outskirts of town, but only at night. Even more disturbing was that they had recovered one of these missing folks, and they looked as if they had been dehydrated, not simply a lack of water, but nearly reduced to dust. The skin of the deceased crumbled when they tried to bring the corpse back to the village. People were afraid to leave their homes after dark.

Naturally, the village turned on Heat, the "monster", the first scapegoat they could come up with. For a while, they had forgotten about the strange construct that lived in the strange laboratory on the edge of town. Unfortunately, they remembered him very quickly once this mystery materialized.

As Freja was talking, Heat became more and more fidgety. He felt guilty that the two of you were worrying about him when he was the cause of your problems. It was only a matter of time before the villagers did something drastic. They were already emboldened enough to come to your front door with violent intent. While you and Freja discussed how they were going to handle the inevitable influx of angry villagers, Heat was already drafting a goodbye letter in his head.

For the first time in a long time, Heat didn't spend the night crammed between the two of you, and in the morning it became clear why. A very neatly written letter was left where you were sure to find it. In it, Heat apologized for being a burden, and he apologized for leaving like this, but he wanted to protect the two of you from the anger of the village. There was no doubt that both of you were devastated. If you could only have made him feel more secure, then maybe he would have stayed. Even the constant reassurance that has was loved and wanted wasn't enough.

For weeks, Freja and yourself had searched the surrounding areas for signs he had been there. It was harder to search near the village. The people were aware of your connection to Heat. The last thing you wanted to do was accidentally lead them to him before you could find him and bring him to safety. Every day that passed was tougher for the two of you. There was less hope that you would find him. He may have gone on to the next town, or even the one after that by this point.

This night, you and Freja ventured further out than you had before, not noticing the fast fading light. The lantern's low golden light was enough to see the path home, but not much else. Every so often, a branch would snap and startle you both. The forest was eerily devoid of noise. Even the crickets were silent. Without admitting fear, you both walked faster. An inky black shape moved into the path in front of you, stopping you in your tracks. It was taller than any man, even Heat, that you had seen.

"Beg pardon, sir. We are retiring to our home this evening and would like to get by."

The figure stepped closer to your light, illuminating his large stature further. He had dusky skin and jet-black hair. His facial hair was groomed into sharp points that were aimed at his mouth, nearly as sharp as the teeth inside aforementioned mouth.

"All alone this evening, ladies?"

"Not that it's your business, but we're looking for a friend," Freja said, narrowing her eyes.

"What sort of friend?"

"Tall, scarred, has peculiarly colored hair and inexplicably sad eyes," you answered.

An odd expression crossed his features for a moment.

"I see." The man stepped forward again. "And if I find such a man, what shall I tell him?"

"That he is dearly missed and to come home."

The man stopped walking as he was about to pass you, running a sharp nail through the brooch of flowers that you were wearing. "Pretty flowers. Do you know what they are?"

"No. These were the last flowers our friend gave us before he left." There was a hint of sadness in you voice as a few dried petals broke and drifted to the ground. You swallowed. The man was giving you a bad feeling.

"Wild garlic." The man mused. He continued walking, now behind you, and added, "They can save your life, you know." The man walked on without an explanation.

Neither you nor Freja had ever run so fast back to your home. You swore that man had red eyes. When you went to bed that night, you kept those flowers close. You hadn't noticed, but Freja had seen the man hiss as he touched the brooch. Neither of you slept well. What if Heat has succumbed to whatever thing was killing villagers? What if you had narrowly escaped it tonight?

The next day, Freja suggested venturing further out towards the next town. The encounter the night before had shaken you both, causing you to worry more about Heat's safety. You hadn't gone that far before, mostly because it was at least an entire day's journey to the next town and neither of you wanted to spend the night there in case Heat came back home while you were away. By the time you were almost there, the sun was already sinking, and both of you had dwindling energy. As you crested one of the larger hills, a building you hadn't seen before came into view. It was a small, but looming castle. It looked abandoned if not for the smoke tendrils reaching out of the chimney.

Approaching cautiously, you gradually made your way to the intimidating building. Shadows grew as the sun sank under the tree line. There was still light, though thin. Curiously, the windows seemed to be boarded up. A sliver of light shone through a small gap in one of them. Someone was home. Neither of you wanted to be here after dark, and people were known to be kind to travelers around here. Before knocking at the front door, you decided that a peek through the window would be appropriate. What if it turned out the murderer lived there, or the strange man from last night? The best case scenario was that Heat would be there. Maybe he sought refuge here. Unfortunately, the gap in the window was slightly too high for either of you to see into. It was decided that Freja, as the more petite of you, would sit on your shoulders in order to get a good view.

"What do you see?" You asked.

"Nothing yet. It doesn't look abandoned inside. The furnishings are quite nice. Looks like someone's bedchamber."

"What else?"

"Shh. I heard footsteps I think," Freja whispered.

You stumbled, causing Freja to lose visual for a few seconds. When you recovered and she was able to see, she gasped.

"What?!" You shout-whispered.

"It's him! And he's- oh my god he's biting someone. There's blood!"

"Who! Who is him!?"

"The tall stranger." Freja gasped again. "And the someone- the someone-" Freja choked back a sob. "It's Heat! It's our Heat."

"What's happening? Is he okay? How much blood?"

"It's not that much and- oh he's smiling? I don't understand." Freja's voice cracked. "What's going on? They're- oh. OH!"

"What!? Let me see!" You were impatient and Freja was being less than revealing.

"They're naked."

"Huh?"

"They're- yeah they're naked." Freja covered her, now dry, eyes. "Oh my!" She peeked through her fingers. "Our boy is- well, we taught him quite adequately."

You managed to switch places with Freja, just in time to see Heat going down on, sure enough, the stranger from the night previous.

"Oh heavens, he's swallowing that thing whole. Good for him," you remarked. "It's the size of a small child. Seems we didn't get the best of the best after all."

"That's what you're concerned about right now?"

"Shut up! I'm just saying!"

Your voice was a few decibels too loud and when you next looked, there were red eyes locked on yours. You made a squeak of fright and fainted, promptly throwing Freja off-balance and sending you both toppling. Freja rolled down the hill a bit, hitting her head on a log. Thus, you were both incapacitated.

_______________________________________________

When you woke up, you had forgotten what had happened, only remembering the events when you looked around and saw you were not in your own room. Freja was in a separate bed and had also woken up. A tall, lean-muscled woman in a maid's uniform was pouring tea. When she noticed you, she smiled.

"You're awake? I'll let the master know." She introduced herself as Brigette and hurried away.

Shortly after, the strange man appeared, followed by Heat.

"Heat!" You exclaimed. "We were dreadfully worried about you. What happened? I'm glad you seem to be okay."

"Might I explain?" The stranger spoke. "Let me start with an introduction. My name is Wire."

"You're the creep from the other night!" Freja accused.

"Yes- well, no, I'm not a creep."

The man, Wire, went on to explain that he had come across Heat the very same night that Heat had left. This man was a fabled vampire, and he had meant to attack Heat, but was caught off-guard by his interesting flavor, no doubt due to the mix of various parts he was created from. Heat, being the good little student of science that he was, explained what he was to the man, hoping to enlighten the man's palette. Yet, it intrigued the man. He wanted to know more. Heat had told him of his life thus far and confessed to him that he was leaving the village because of these strange happenings, in order to protect his loved ones. Wire felt somewhat guilty about being the cause of that.

Over the next few weeks they had bonded. They were both "monsters" misunderstood by people. Heat was misunderstood anyway. Wire was an unapologetic blood thief. The night that Wire had met you two, he knew that you were the love ones Heat referred to. He had told Heat about meeting you and Heat was torn. He missed you both fiercely, but he had also found something new with someone who understood him like no other. Still, he thought you deserved closure, and had planned on seeing you one last time. It turned out you would show up right on his doorstep, worse actually, as Peeping Penelopes.

"I'm sorry that I left. I didn't know what else to do," Heat was conflicted.

"Heat, we're just happy that you're okay," Freja opened her arms for a hug.

Heat hugged her and came to embrace you as well. "I found someone that I don't want to let go of."

"Oh, Heat." You kissed him on the cheek. "I'm happy for you." You bit your lip. "I don't want to make this difficult for you. As much as we adore you, you don't have to come back with us. You are free to make your own choices."

"About that." Heat glanced at Wire.

"None of you are going back." Wire stood in the doorway.

Freja and yourself exchanged a troubled glance. He was holding you against your will? He was going to eat you. That must be it. You had seen too much.

"You need to work on your delivery, love." Heat grinned at the tall gentleman. "I hate to be the one to tell you, but last night, we could see from the hilltop that our old home was aflame. It was good timing that you had left when you did. The village finally came for us." Heat hated to think that even without him there, you had been in danger. "What Wire meant to say, was that you are welcome to stay here. In fact, I want you to stay. Even if our home hadn't burned, I would want you to stay."

Wire nodded in support.

"I have a few questions." You squinted at Wire.

Freja interjected. "Do not ask about his hog."

"I have considerably less questions. Zero, in fact," you stated definitively.

It was awkward at first, maneuvering around the various relationships. You wanted to be respectful of Heat and Wire, yet you and Freja both missed your third partner. It wasn't an issue for long. Heat reassured you that you could do as you liked. Wire hardly minded sharing, and he even indulged your hog wrestling fantasies. Heat and Freja thoroughly enjoyed the show, too.

In the end, most of the townsfolk succumbed to terminal anemia. They deserved whatever came to them. The only exception was Nan. Wire was forbidden to touch Nan, the only person that treated Heat with kindness. The other condition was that when he went to town, he had to bring you two along so you could say hi. Brigette, who drove the carriage to town, took a liking to Nan as well, so the four of you hung out during these excursions. The bar was usually loud enough to cover up any screams anyway.

#Happy Halloween!#he’s a vampwire get it? m #one piece #x reader #heat x reader #heat one piece #frankenstein AU #wire one piece #vampire au #kid pirates #halloween fic

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thesiblingsoftheblackandwhite · 10 months ago

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[[BODY MUTILATION, BODY HORROR, ABUSIVE PARENTING]]

Hooves legs ache as they clack toward nowhere. There is no silence this time, instead it’s echoed by faint screams he can almost place. Meaning there’s someone else here.

Wig-Wiggly!?

There is no other word for what T’noy Karaxis feels: weak. The persistent burn in his bones has only spread as his head fogs. That doesn’t mean he stops running. Yellow fizzles past his clouded eyes to something brighter and harsher. There’s no harm in trying for freedom, even if there is nothing past these walls. ‘Harm’ does not include the sickness beating through him like it always has. Tinky’s hands, pocked with age spots, twitch coldly. He almost trips over himself, eyes darting around for anything of a different shade. There was only one rule: never stay in the same spot. Whatever can be done should.

Blinky!?

He’s at the dead end he always ends up reaching. Stopping once means he might not get up again - Tinky tries to grip the wall clumsily with feeble fingers. Metal gushes into his mouth as he absently opens his mouth to let it flow out, stark against the yellow floor. Nails scratch and, as they do so, each one chips. Karaxis doesn’t stop, getting hysterical. His nailbeds bleed at the strain of separation. With a jerk, his thumbnail clatters to the floor. The exposed skin burns, but he doesn’t notice. The cracks along the rest of his nails make sure they don’t go as quickly, rooting deep into his palm with electric shudders. Every breath is a stab to each lung. Frantic in his escape plan, Tinky doesn’t hear footsteps.

“You.”

T’noy staggers around to come face to face with his favorite toy. Teddy Bear grins without enjoyment.

“I’ve been waiting for you. You fucking bastard.”

Aware of how frail he feels, Tinky backs into the corner while baring his teeth. Ted steps closer, eyes shining. T’noy did not directly interact with his Boxed victims often, and he would have been elated in any other context.

“I’m going to have so much fun, Tinker-Toy.”

There is something wrong with his grin - it's usually lopsided, with a dimple Ted’s hated since childhood. Even with his waning vision, this wasn’t right. Before Karaxis can focus on anything clearly, a shiny flash almost blinds him. In Ted’s hands is a length of piano wire. He shouldn’t have that. Tinky designed the Box so that-

T-Tinker-Toy? You’ve never…

Ted’s grin never slips - his imposing figure steps in closer, cornering his tormentor. The wire gets spun around in his fingers casually.

“Goats don’t have fingers, silly wiwwle Tinky~.”

His eyes were brown, not…

“I’m sure you miss ‘em. Your hooves. Huh?”

His tone is light. With nowhere to run, not that his legs would let him, Karaxis stares at the wire wrapping around his ring finger. But this wasn’t how things went - if his Box worked like it should or if he wasn’t just a human, he wouldn’t-

“Aw, don’t cry, little guy! I’ll save your middle finger, how’s that?”

He wheezes a barking laugh. The screams are no longer there. Prickles and needles dance on T’noy’s finger as blood beads against the wire. It’s pulling too tight to simply slide his hand away. T’noy Karaxis begs.

T-Teddsy - Ted - Spankoffski. Don’t!

Ted laughs again, and it doesn’t belong to him, A hot shock burns through Tinky’s finger and palm as the wire meets resistance.

“Like a child begging for salvation.

Bones crack as Theodore’s figure shrinks away. In his place, towering over T’noy Karaxis, is a hulking blur of shining feathers. They have no set color, switching from glints of purple to glints of pink, blue, green, orange. The skull on top of the feather cloak, unblinking, is that of a goat’s, with twisting horns and jutting teeth caked with rot and bloodied flesh. Its - His - eye sockets shine with something inside, far from hollow. Pupilless and apathetic, reflective and compound. Like thousands of cameras, they settle on their target like flies to a corpse. Perpetually watching.

After all my corrections, you are still disobedient.

Tentacles squirm quicker than before from feathered tips. He does not move.

…F-F-

You need say nothing. I apologize for my dirty trick.

T’noy scrambles back further, but the wall prevents escape. He shakes his head harshly, ears ringing.

This could not happen otherwise.

N…No-

He lifts His head higher.

…’No’.

Tinky shakes his head again, neck aching. He cannot move. The figure leans forward, eyes rotating.

Even now? Agitated about a talk?

Cold tentacles slide over his cheek, pulling gently, startling in contrast to his temperature. They leave behind glowing blue muck.

You were always so quiet after the Box. Why did it ever stop?

He cocks His head to one side, though there is no expectation for answers. Tinky’s throat tightens as his mouth breathes out too harshly. Everything blistered, but only His presence was piercing. Regardless, there was an answer; one that he swears is there.

S-

His voice is high and garbled, but he forces his lungs to get air in as he stammers.

S-sib-li-siblings.

There is quiet where he believes he’s won. The flame sizzles on his skin. He says nothing; the air is heavy with copper. Then, voice low,

What siblings? I don’t recall making any others. Certainly not for you.

There are no names to bring up, with no memories to think of. There is nothing. Blankness ranging millennia.

W-

T’noy mouths something; it might be a name or it might be a plea, but either way he can’t get the word out.

Little fake things to keep you company…how can I expect power from a future Lord who hallucinates?

Tinky whines, the guttural noise tearing through his dry throat. No one else was supposed to be in the Box. This was his punishment alone. Just his.

Your time here is getting to you, Bastard. But somehow you’re still useful. Relieving…isn’t it?

Here - the Box. Karaxis knew it well. Its maze twisted every second with rich yellow dousing every corner. Constantly spinning and weaving through itself like a…

W-Webby-

He chokes as hot blood overwhelms his senses, letting it fall down his chin.

What, this?

His tentacles wiggle around a tiny white spider. It zooms around the tight confinement desperately without glowing. Tinky inhales sharply, trailing its movements. His foot falls an inch forward as he wants nothing more than to get it away from Him.

W~Web-

The cage gets smaller. The spider spasms, bloated with blood. Its legs kick once pathetically before they go limp with a spurt of blue-tinted gore. The crushed thing is dropped, dead.

Pests. You know that, I expect.

Karaxis’ stomach churns as he keeps looking at her.

Y-ou ki…

Like a clock that doesn’t tick.

You act horrified. Did I do something wrong?

The corpse disappears under the myriad of feathers. Tinky can’t move further.

It’s like how you play with your replacement - I thought you would like that.

Colors fill his eyes. T’noy doesn’t reach as high as what would be His chest, lacking the strength to look up. His heart pounds in his ears.

You were always so sensitive. A complainer and a coward. I have naught for cowards. Too weak for godhood. Look, you’ve already hurt yourself.

T’noy Karaxis crumples to the floor in a heap, hitting the ground with a thwack. Ice swallows each molecule in his sweltering body. He sees no yellow or colors, just white as his eyes roll back in their sockets. He jerks up, stiff, skin blistering and boiling under his clothing.

Pity.

The wall keeping Karaxis shifts away. Incoherent, he falls onto his back. It lights up with stabbing pain as he sobs.

They will be sorely disappointed. How will you help them? Stupid, stumbling, creature.

There’s creaking as hot breath makes his face scrunch.

Shoo.

The word is a gunshot. Scrambling away, ignoring the excruciating agony as his limbs sting, Tinky flings himself into the maze pathway. Completely blind, groping with bleeding fingers, he can only reach for obstacles.

Hff…hff - nghk-

Nothing gives chase. A low and penetrating hum blares in his ears as a warm stickiness spreads down Tinky’s forehead. He blinks his sight back. It teeters between white and black, catching yellow flashes. A cough brings up something warm and bitter.

Your town is a rotting poison. At its roots it twists into a shrewd picture. Did you think they worried about your absence? There is no difference - you are mine.

He speeds up his crawl after seeing lights shining from the end of the hall. They blink brightly, multicolored. He’s in marginally less pain.

Ah-ah~.

A thin, cold, sharp thing eases in between two ribs with a squelch. Karaxis shudders, gasping, as warmth seeps below him. His chest heaves through a punctured lung with gritted moans. His tone rises, booming.

Ungrateful. Do you understand the PRIVILEGE I’ve given you? The CONTROL I can rip away if I wish? You’ve seen it already. Ask that trifle of yours.

N~o…P-ea-

His brain melts against all logic. Blood drags on the floor behind his decomposing form, already long dried. Teeth loosen with no choice but to fall out of thin gums. As everything clouds, His voice rings in Tinky’s head.

Go back to your brothers. Tell them how good of a protector you were.

#The Lords in Black #T’noy Karaxis #Their Holy Father #ask blog #rp blog #hatchetfield rp #tw body horror #tw mutilation #(Please inform me if I an missing any TW tags! /srs //OOC)#Blog Event: Hatchetfield Citizens

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okaywolf · 29 days ago

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The porch rock works quite well.

Content warning: This chapter includes descriptions of gore and surgery. This here is chapter 16 of You&&, the sequel to Sometimes The Mountain Buries You. I'm still working on getting all my fiction here on tumblr, but in the meantime you can read Sometimes The Mountain Buries You, and You&& on patreon (free).

[First] [Previous] ~ 16 ~ [Next] [Last]

The porch rock works quite well. Every time you go to visit Basin’s small cabin, the facing rocks are ajar—you consider telling Basin they don’t need to turn the porch rock for cooking too much on Monday evenings, you’re already well aware—and when you rotate a facing rock you can find a connection even with Basin's imprecise turns, provided the porch rock isn't turned away. The porch rock is turned away half of the time.

It is nice to know that Basin who needs their people has their people with them so frequently. It is nice to think that Basin is having a good time, that Basin has had good times. You think you are maybe starting to understand how Basin feels the way you know they feel about their people and the good times spent with them.

Between time spent in Basin's head, now thousands of connections you've made shifting twig and needle, entire landscapes of rotated rocks, and all the things that shouldn't be here that you have eaten, you have grown a level of expertise tracking and consuming the things that shouldn't be here. You have grown comfortable in your level of expertise tracking and consuming the things that shouldn't be here.

It's not that you are distracted. You're not thinking about the turn of the season, snapping connections of twig and needle, all-encompassing nature how it should be. You are simply out of its head a little more than it is in yours at the wrong moment. You were complacent.

It's good that you do not bleed. You would not have survived. Much like your response to pain, the fact that you do not bleed seems designed for the purpose of the relentless extermination of the things that shouldn't be here.

Overcoming your error through the innate drive to consume, your success is a gruesome lesson in the pitfall of overconfidence. At least this time you didn't fall into a pit and break apart your ribcage.

The trek to the strip of cabins on the dusty road is lengthy with inoperable limbs. Given flail and drag—prickling your own skin with many snapped twig and needle connections—you figure you've not healed 'too much' along the way.

Relief floods you when your approach's rock successfully faces the porch rock. If it hadn't, and you were to stop and lie here to heal, other things that shouldn't be here might happen upon you—they had previously when you've lied out in the open. And there aren't any viable crevices to hide away in nearby.

The remaining distance to Basin's small cabin is spent planning a spread of viable crevices to hid away in in the future. A project for the winter, before your spring home expansion.

When you arrive at Basin's home for others, your knock on the side door is not the labour of knuckle, wrist, stifle, hock, or elbow. With the control you've practiced on the lengthy trek, you manage to knock on the side door how Basin instructed you to by way of shoulder.

Considering they were asleep, it doesn't take long for Basin to emerge in their flannel pajamas and split open band tee. In that time, stationary, you drifted towards unconscious. Their cursing snaps you awake.

Their opening of the side door slams the arm you'd used to knock on the side door to the floor.

You shudder in pleasure at the pain as they assess you.

Basin says they'll be right back but you can't fully interpret spoken word. You know the words because they clearly think them before saying them. You know they're thinking the worst of this situation. You know they're leaving to change into scrubs they can later destroy.

You know they're grateful you don't bleed because getting you across the thick dark brown carpet resembling grizzly bear pelt is a laborious dragging process. Later, they'll realize you might have shed spines into the near bicentennial celebrating carpet and they'll consider retiring it.

Right now they sit on an eclectically acquired chair, head down on the wrists of their gloved hands as they take a moment to mentally prepare.

Part of this offer, to keep you in one piece, is to keep you in the best possible condition. Part of the aches and pains that have you considering tattoos are the aches and pains of injuries healed prior to Basin's offer, by way of lying out in the open or hiding in a crevice. You heal by yourself, though worse for wear. You would heal from this without them. You fight through a bawl, to assure them whatever they do will be better than nothing.

"You should understand I shouldn't know how to do this, not like this." The other person they thought of every time they thought of Sheppard had taught them. "It's going to be…"

Basin who is thinking in medical terms has become familiar to you, it's a logic and knowledge-based protocol-driven structure that you appreciate—it is easier to be in Basin's too many thoughts when their too many thoughts have rigid structure. Here now it is mired in uncertainties and second-guessing themself.

"It will be, better than, lying in a ditch," you reassure them.

They look at limp and torn limbs, some extremities still a part of you solely by few ribbons of muscle and skin, some you lost on the trek. A particularly gruesome ankle is placed late on the order of operations. Once Basin has ordered all the operations, they get to work sewing tendons and muscle��careful of your poisonous fascia and picking out spines. You learn as they go as they learn by doing, gaining expertise as they figure out which recommended suture patterns have enough mechanical advantage for your body and the state it's in—and then gain expertise sewing them again and again.

Once they've reassembled an arm they take a break to drink water and tea, and eat something with high salt content and something with high sugar content. It's enough time for your reassembled arm to be able assist them with your bones they don't want to touch.

It's daylight when Basin has completed their order of operations, exhausting their supplies and everything they could learn by doing. They are exhausted beyond measure. You wish you could do anything about it, but lying on the floor is the most you can manage.

They call in to call the day off work, cry from exhaustion in the shower, spend the better part of an hour napping with Jupiter in their room, and return to floor you're lying on to wash not their favourite mug.

Having just spent hours in Basin's head to best assist and accommodate hours of surgery, you're currently distant from their most active and clear thoughts for your own sake. You get the sense that this is what they had offered you, they know that, they're accepting that anew. They're adjusting expectations, steeling themself for the future they've dedicated themself to mending you.

They're adjusting the future they've planned and were living, to accommodate the future they've dedicated themself to.

"Let me tell you about Shale."

[First] [Previous] ~ 16 ~ [Next] [Last]

#You&&#novellas #fiction #original fiction #queer fiction #actually me #actually writing

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bigimotikwriting · 1 month ago

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Their Future - Part 20

Master Post

Gridori's attacks did not abate as hour after hour passed, if it was even possible to tell time in the Void. Without akuto available, Munto felt his energy begin to fade away, his own defenses dwindling.

Gridori gave a harsh laugh. "You pathetic magicians were always so greedy with your akuto consumption. I bet that's giving you a hard time now, isn't it?"

Gritting his teeth, Munto barely dodged as one of Gridori's arms whipped around towards his neck. "Why are you doing this?" he panted.

"I am correcting the error you made," said Gridori. "I will forge the future that should have been: with Heavenly beings in our rightful place as Lords and Masters over the Lower World."

Munto's breath caught in his throat. He couldn't let that happen.

Gridori continued, letting his attacks abate for a moment. "It won't stop at one reality. There are thousands of worlds waiting to be conquered. That fool Gass couldn't see it, you can't see it, but I can see the open doors and I will be the one to walk through them."

An imagine of Yumemi flashed in Munto's mind: shackles at her wrists, bruising her delicate skin, eyes empty and spirit broken - devoid of all life and happiness.

Munto shook with fury and gathered his remaining energy into his right hand. "You will not touch her!"

"Oh, the girl? Yes, she is a necessary part of the plan." Gridori gestured at his distorted figure. "You can see what happens to those of us who use space-time magic improperly. I can't afford to waste time on curses."

Enraged, Munto brought up his arm and unleashed a massive energy blast, right at his foul opponent. Then his body went limp as he tried to keep the last of his akuto intact. He would not die here!

Unfortunately, Gridori vanished a second before impact and then silently reappeared at Munto's side.

"Foolish, young king."

Spiny fingers reached around to bind his arms to his sides, but he did not have the energy to fight back. Needle-sharp digits pricked into his head, piercing deeply, causing him to clench his jaw to stop from screaming.

Gridori drew close to his face. "I have spent much time preparing for my revenge. Thanks to her graces, I can accomplish all that and more, including this."

The hundreds of needles in Munto's head throbbed, bringing on another wave of pain. Spots floated in front of his eyes, blinding his vision.

When the pain finally ebbed away, he opened his eyes. His vision was blurry, as if viewed through a red liquid or glass. With a terrifying thought, he looked down and saw a mess of branch-like limbs. Twisting against his invisible ties, he tried to lift an arm and confirmed what he feared to be the truth.

"As you can tell, that body is rapidly deteriorating. I doubt I would have lasted much longer. Thanks to you, I can start anew."

Meters away, Munto watched as his own body flexed its muscles and then met his gaze with a smirk. "It is liberating to be free of that wrecked form."

#fanfiction #munto #writing #munto-their-future-fic-rewrite #yumemi

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moonspower · 1 year ago

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🍅 : how does my muse feel about plastic / cosmetic surgeries & procedures? is it something they have done or would do? do they mind if others do it?

✨ anonymous. meme. still accepting!

vi spent a lot of time in beverly hills, so plastic surgery is a-okay to him lol. also culturally for him, plastic surgery isn't wild. for little things vi's had braces ( while continuing his yearly whitening treatments now and he spends a lot of money on those ) and he does go in to get skin procedures that could be considered extreme to the normal person like microneedling.

microneedling is a cosmetic procedure. it involves pricking the skin with tiny sterilized needles thousands of times. the small wounds cause your body to make more collagen and elastin, which heal your skin and help you look younger. downtime healing from the procedure isn't long and includes swelling + redness.

the vampire facial, also known as microneedling with PRP, is a cosmetic procedure that involves drawing blood from your arm, separating platelets and applying them back onto your face.

honestly he doesn't need these lol... but he likes to get them.

he'd love to get a nose job / rhinoplasty, some filler in his upper lip, and a little brow lift. but he hasn't taken the dive for these. also maybe a little boost to his ass like the slightest fat transfer or something to make his ass a lil phatter.

#🌙 ABOUT! CANCERIAN SUN SHINING IN THE EVENING.#anonymous #/ the slightest of BBL.............. lkgjfdkgjd.

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dwarf-vader-of-middle-earth · 9 months ago

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I hope OOP (frenchfry) has tons of tiny invisible cuts on their hands and puts testosterone gel on them, only to feel the wrath of a thousand agonizing fires in each cut they had no idea was there. :)

I've used T gel for over 6 years straight now, and will remain with it for the rest of my life. That shit dries faster than glue, and as soon as it dries it's safe to touch others. I love it!! It's done me so much good!!! It saved my life literally, and I'm forever grateful it exists.

I have PTSD and react especially poorly to needles in any capacity, to the point I have tag blockers and general content blockers to prevent myself from seeing them since, if I do, I get a terrible anxiety attack. However!! I'm a burly, heavyset hairy dude, who can knock down a heavybag in MMA like it's nobody's business, I throw axes as a hobby, and I can lift well over 180lbs despite being under 5ft/150cm tall. I'm a gentle soul who hugs and loves everyone who's willing to let me, I do whatever I can to rescue all animals I see including the ones crossing the roads, I melt like fuckin ice in the summer whenever I see something cute, etc. If that ain't the definition of manliness then idk what is.

Basically, it doesn't matter how you use your testosterone. If you use it, you're man as fuck. I love you. I hope your transition goes exactly how you want, and you get all your desired results, bro. Keep being badass!!

Now! Some tips from me to y'all transmascs who use T gel as well!

Dawn soap is fantastic at washing the gel off your hands when you're done, specifically because it's made to cut through grease unlike basic hand soaps

Get yourself a roll of disposable paper towels for when you wash your hands (this way, after washing your hands you don't contaminate a communal towel with testosterone)

GRAB YOUR PAPER TOWELS BEFORE YOU PUT THE TESTOSTERONE ON YOUR HANDS!!!!! I know, it seems obvious, but my bro there will come a day when you put the gel on first and then realize you didn't grab paper towels. And you'll regret your every life choice ever because it's too late to turn back now, and you've inevitably just added to your endless laundry pile that's got to be done (go do you laundry right after this PLEASE man I'm begging you)

If you have dry/cracked skin, or open wounds on your hands, use disposable gloves to put the gel on, thus preventing the gel from getting into your cuts

When it's dry, if there are white streaks left behind, a light cream usually covers them as well as hydrates the skin (literally anything works, even the cheap dollar tree shit)

To avoid it feeling awkwardly stiff once it's dry, do something like brushing your teeth or hair, or just moving your body in small simple ways so the gel dries evenly and doesn't make you feel like a fucking human statue breaking out of its rocky shell

If you have a pump, keep a log of how many pumps you've used compared to how many are left. Put it on paper, in your phone, wherever it's easily accessible, so that you know when it's time to contact someone for a refill BEFORE you run out completely. And, this way, you don't wake up one day and go to use your pump, only to find there's nothing left.

The name brand (Androgel) is VERY expensive, and insurance companies often deny it coverage. Save yourself the money and hassle, and see if they'll instead cover generic testosterone gel. It's literally the same thing, but cheaper, and more likely to be approved!

Squirts my T gel directly into this persons eyes, blinding them due to its high alcohol content

#trans #ftm #testosterone #t gel

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angel-inrealtime · 2 years ago

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November F1c Prompts Day 15

Day 15 - Scent (Chemical/Artificial)

There’s something about the chemical, clean smell of a tattoo shop. Nothing like it in the world. You’ve sat in many, with and without him.

He still doesn’t seem to think you’re going to go through with it. “You’re bluffing, you won’t do it.”

You roll your eyes, turn your phone towards the artist, who’s laughing at the two of you carrying on. You’ve known her for years now, Cat. “There’s a live reference but he isn’t cooperating, so...”

She makes a little ‘aw’ sounds in the back of her throat when she sees the picture. “You want it the same?”

“Yep. Same font, same size, just behind my ear.”

“Sick, give me 5 minutes to set up. Should take half an hour top.”

When you look over at Daniel, his eyes are a bit wider. “Are you...really?’

You raise your eyebrows. “Yes, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because!” He squawks. “Why? That’s so...”

“Permanent?” You enunciate the ‘t’, looking at him like it’s halfway to a challenge. Maybe it is. You feel a little wild with it.

His cheeks go pink. “I...yeah, I guess.”

“Is this…not?” You didn’t mean to vocalise it like that. Challenge isn’t the right word, you realise belatedly. You’re not the one who’s insecure, in this case.

Daniel’s face falls a bit. “Of course...of course it is! You don’t...” He grabs your hand like he needs a tether, suddenly. “Are you trying to tell me something, or, like...you know? Right? You know I love you and I don’t want anyone else and...”

You squeeze his hand tight enough to stop the words tumbling out of his mouth. “I know, Daniel. I wasn’t trying to tell you anything. I’d just...tell you, if I was.” He still looks a little troubled, even as you reach to smooth the crease between his brows with your thumb. “You know, right? You believe me when I say I love you, and I don’t want anyone else?”

His eyes flicker away, just for a second. He knows you’ve got him there, at a raw point of insecurity he keeps buried far away from prying eyes (including his own, most of the time).

You squeeze his hand again. “That’s why.” You say softly, only just loud enough to be heard over the tattoo gun of another one of the artists. “It’s for you. Not for anyone else.”

“But you don’t have to...”

You shift your hand down to his mouth. “I know I don’t have to. But I want to.” You sit on the stool, gather your hair out of the way in preparation. “Three’s a pretty universally lucky number anyway, you know. It’s not all about you.”

You go through positioning the stencil, get Cat to adjust it until it’s right where you want it.

He sits and doesn’t say much as the artificial clean smell settles around you, and the tattoo gun is quieter than you expect, there. It doesn’t hurt, just the same needling pressure that’s familiar from the other art on your body.

“All done! You wanna compare with the live reference or are we still uncooperative?”

Daniel huffs and slips his phone into his pocket, holds up his hand next to your ear so the 3 on his is right next to the fresh raised skin.

“Matchy?”

“Matchy matchy.” Cat affirms, small smile on her mouth. “You want a picture?”

“I got it.” Daniel interrupts softly, plucks your phone out of your hands. Mindful of bumping the fresh tattoo, he slides his hand into your hair like he’s done a thousand times, and you catch the sharp intake of breath when you assume it lines up like you wanted, just under the one on his pinky finger. He takes a few photos, almost fumbling with his left hand, and then he looks down at you with something heavy and delicate all at once in his eyes. “Babe...”

“It’s for you.” You repeat your words from earlier, like repetition will make him understand, without you having to find the words. “So you can look at it when you need reminding but it’s hard to ask. Or when you don’t know you need to ask. Just...” You kiss his palm before he slides his hand away. “Let it be for you.”

#f1 fanfic #daniel ricciardo fanfic #November f1c prompts #daniel ricciardo x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo imagine #f1blr #daniel ricciardo fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 driver x reader #f1 driver x you #formula 1 x reader

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sserpente · 3 years ago

Photo

A/N: While everyone else was freaking out over a naked Thor, I cried my eyes out after seeing his Loki tattoo. Then this happened. Enjoy, everyone!

Words: 1734 Warnings: pure fluff... and needles, I guess

With a sigh, you closed your browser. You had now saved a total of three hundred pictures to your laptop, all of which were tattoos by different artists from all over the world. You had been dying to use your own body as a canvas for years but unfortunately, never had the courage nor the money to put colour on your skin forever.

And then, you had met gods and superheroes and your life had taken a complete turn and your priorities had shifted entirely and you had fallen in love with the Norse God of Mischief. Passionate sex had led to feelings you could barely describe with words and now here you were, utterly devoted to a man who would outlive you by thousands of years.

People gave you strange looks whenever you mentioned your devotion to Loki, including the Avengers. And while his brother Thor was celebrated as the hero, Loki was still viewed as the villainous brother who attempted to subjugate the planet all those years back. It didn’t matter how much good he did, not to them anyway. Loki always acted like he didn’t care but whenever Thor, the media, and all of his followers praised him for yet another triumph, you could see the pained expression on Loki’s face—the disappointment.

“It’s getting warmer…” You murmured, cuddling up to him. He was so nice and cool you had a feeling this summer would be a lot more bearable than the previous ones. And even though he claimed that he hated physical affection, you could tell he was enjoying being close to you.

“Loki, we’re on the news!” Thor bellowed. He came barging into the room not caring for privacy, with an excited expression on his face. Loki rolled his eyes all the while you were flinching.

“Heavens, Thor…” Loki complained. You sighed, reaching for the remote to change the program. Thor was right, he was on TV—and he was being interviewed. The reporter was beaming, praising him for his help, admiring his strength. Not with a single word did he mention Loki; nor did Thor.

Loki pressed his lips together to a thin line and swallowed. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes once more when you wrapped your arms around him tighter. And then, finally, the camera panned to Loki for a split second. After that, it was a group of squealing fans holding posters and signs and screaming Thor’s name. One of them had Mjölnir tattooed on her forearm. Huh…

“Thor and his brother…” You heard the reporter say. There was nothing else of importance. The God of Mischief sighed. You switched the program again.

“Always a pleasure to be inside this square box.” Thor said, grinning widely. Then, all of a sudden, he paused. “It almost looks strange to see a woman in your arms, brother.” He looked at you. “I don’t know how you put up with him but I’m glad he found someone who seems to like his… chaotic nature, shall we say?” He grinned once more.

Loki tensed up, still stiff even after Thor had left.

“Loki… are you alright?”

He hummed in response. You put your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. At least you now finally knew what type of tattoo you were going to get.

Would it stay on your skin forever? Yes. Were you facing any hesitation at all? No. You wanted a part of Loki to be with you at all times when he was gone and this, strangely enough, appeared to mean so much more than a wedding ring.

Thousands of fans were committed to Thor, and not a single person had yet expressed their gratitude towards Loki, not to mention that it seemed he himself couldn’t quite believe he was worthy of such gratitude… let alone your love.

It was the following day already that you found yourself in the tattoo studio. They had given you a last-minute appointment after learning who you were and when you had sent your artist an e-mail with what you wanted to get, even the barrier of virtual communication was unable to hide both his confusion and probably even hostility.

In any case, though, he met you neutrally the following day. After shaking his hand, he showed you the template he had made with your pictures and, after making sure you were fine with it, got to work.

You barely registered your surroundings. The walls were full of art, the smell of sanitiser and what must have been the tattoo colours filling your nostrils, and in the background, you could hear the humming of another tattoo gun along with some rock music.

It was only then, when you sat down on the chair, that nervousness began to wash over you—not because you were second-guessing your decision but rather because this man was about to repeatedly poke your skin with a small needle.

“It’s a little too late to ask but would you prefer some numbing cream?” He asked.

You shook your head, smiling mischievously. “Seriously, dude, I fight wars with the Avengers.”

“Yeah, stupid question… So, um…” You resisted the urge to flinch when he started tattooing you. Actually… it wasn’t so bad. Well, the numerous forums you’d been on online had promised you that the inside of your arm was a piece of cake compared to, say the ribs. You were planning on getting more tattoos one day but for now, this one it was.

You couldn’t wait to see Loki’s reaction. He had no idea you were here.

“Why… why Loki? I-I mean… I know you’re technically an Avenger but... that dude’s kinda evil.”

“Evil? He’s helped Thor and the others on missions countless times by now.” You tilted your head. “People just refuse to see the good in him.”

“Suit yourself, I mean… he tried to enslave all of humanity but…”

“That was a long time ago. And it wasn’t entirely his fault if you remember Thanos.”

The tattoo artist cleared his throat. “Yeah, I guess… Still. I mean it’s your skin.”

“Exactly. So let’s just do this. This is my first tattoo, I’d like to have a good memory of getting it and not sit here for hours defending my bo-“ You stopped yourself before you could say boyfriend. He’d see soon enough, for you had asked Loki to come pick you up here a little later. Besides, Loki didn’t like to be called your boyfriend. He was much more of a… lover, he had said. It had a nice ring to it.

“Yeah, yeah… sorry. I promise your choice of tattoo won’t impact the quality of my work. You’ll love it when it’s finished.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

You only had to take two breaks in between, drinking plenty of water and stretching your legs a bit. Once the tattoo artist had finished up and wrapped clear foil around your tattoo to protect it, you sent Loki a text.

It was odd, every single time, to remind yourself that Loki was using a phone. He never used emojis though, for some dubious reason. That almost made it hard for you to tell when he was being sarcastic or not.

“What is this place? What are you doing in a tattoo parlour?”

“I was shopping for flowers. What do you think?” Chuckling, you embraced him when he entered the tattoo shop. It was perfect timing, for just when you pressed your lips on his to greet him properly, your tattoo artist reemerged from his private backroom.

“Oh… Oh! Oh. Mr… Mr. Loki. You, um… so you’re… wow.” You winked at him. You had to admit, his fear was rather hilarious… which was exactly why you had asked Loki to come pick you up. Besides, Loki could be quite the gentleman if only he wanted to. He loved being all protective over you and that included taking you home on a regular basis.

Loki tilted his head when you broke the kiss, narrowing his eyes at him with his lips parted. “And who are you?”

“I, um… I did her tattoo. It’s um… you know what, it’s on the house.”

“Oh… thanks.” You said, grinning a little. Scary boyfriend privileges…

“You were not joking then? You actually got tattooed?”

“I’ll show you when we’re back home. Come on. Thanks again!”

“Y-yeah… thanks. Bye.”

As soon as you exited the shop, you burst out laughing. “Did you see his face? I love it. Come on, Trickster.” Intertwining your fingers with his, you dragged him along, not even giving him a chance to respond until you reached the Avengers’ Tower.

You couldn’t wait to take your jacket off and show him your tattoo and it seemed, Loki was equally curious.

“Why did you decide to put ink on your body permanently?” He suddenly asked.

“It’s beautiful… to use the skin as a canvas… and to have art that means a lot to you with you at all times, to become a part of you.”

“Hmm…”

“I’ve been thinking about getting tattoos for a very long time but then all this happened and I forgot about it for a while… but I’ve been doing my research and… well, I think you’ll like it.”

Loki frowned when you beamed at him. Once you arrived in your shared room, your grin grew even wider. Excitedly, you took off your jacket, took a deep breath, and then presented your arm to him.

Loki’s lips parted, you could almost hear his face fall when he laid his eyes upon the golden helmet and the dagger you had gotten tattooed on your arm. Then, his blue eyes, filled with utter shock, met yours.

“You… you… this is my…” You smiled at him, biting your lower lip and eagerly awaiting what he would say but instead… instead he was tearing up.

“You… this will be on your skin forever.” He choked out.

You nodded. “I love you, Loki. This is a symbol of my devotion to you. Maybe no one else around here appreciates you the way they should be… but I do.”

Loki closed his eyes for a brief moment. And instead of responding with words, he pulled you into his arms, hugging you so tightly you feared for your breath. He didn’t need to say anything more. His embrace told you more than you needed to hear.

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siryouarebeingmocked · 2 years ago

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SYABM complains about a quest again.

There's this CKII-style quest.

The lead is a guy in the 80s, who runs a company dedicated to fighting supernatural threats, researching it to make money (like XCOM), and other activities. The Quest Master gives a bunch of advisors in various categories, and the audience get to vote on available options, and the QM rolls to determine success or failure.

The "Stewardship" advisor is a racist.

That's basically his only character trait. He's a connected Southern gentleman, and he's a "racist bigot".

In fact, he's such a racist bigot that he can't be allowed close to the actual troops, because he'll presumably have Heated Gamer Moments, so to speak.

The obvious question is "Wait. Couldn't the MC hire someone else with the same skills who isn't a raging bigot? Especially someone whose job description includes making connections with a lot of people, in a company that operates worldwide?"

Apparently not.

Also, one of the other advisors got married and had a kid. A few thousand words ago. I just hit the point where we learn she was married to another woman.

In the 80s.

In America.

How do we learn this? Well, the MC marries a Japanese woman, and she casually mentions the respect the advisor and her wife have for the MC. And also that the Steward has a "history of racial bigotry".

Last time I checked, the wife grew up in Japan, in the 80s and maybe 70s. Which...would also be pretty racist and sexist and not exactly gay-friendly. Heck, the narration when she was introduced pointed out that Japan was still a male-dominated culture.

But apparently she's personally really tolerant. Especially compared to the other clearly flawed waifu candidates the quest had. She's explicitly supposed to be a "Yamato Nadeshiko", a traditional Japanese housewife.

Which seems odd, considering the whole "successfully running a company in a culture that frowns upon her doing just that" thing.

Oh, and another advisor is described as 'black-haired' and 'brown-skinned'. This is supposed to be following the MC's perspective. And calling characters "brown-skinned" or "dark-skinned" seems to be a modern progressive thing.

A random guy in the 80s, even a progressive one, would probably call her "black" or "black-hispanic" or "hispanic" or "Indian" or some specific ethnicity. He should have that info on hand, because he hired her.

So, yeah, this feels a lot like the QM wanted to acknowledge prejudice and stuff, but didn't actually think it through.

EDIT:

Since I wrote and queued this post, I've gotten a few more chapters into the quest, and I've noticed some...details.

A while back, God - yes, the God - randomly showed up while The protagonist was eating at a cafe and said " I'm going to die and be reincarnated for no explained reason. And I want you to find my reincarnation and take care of her."

this is the first time that God has appeared in the entire story. There are Angels and Devils, but nobody mentioned the big guy or his actions specifically, IIRC.

the reincarnation turns out to be little girl who is found in a Brazilian favela. some real bad hombres lock her in a dark room, drain her magical blood, and sell it as a drug. as a result, God's reincarnation has a fear of men.

and only men.

not needles or seeing blood or the dark, just men.

It's possible they did...other stuff, but the story isn't clear. In fact, we don't even get to 'see' her captors, only the aftermath of the rescue, from her perspective. The fact that they’re men is just implied.

and who does the protagonist (and the quest readers) decide to leave her care to? yep, that's right, the aforementioned couple.

God is a woman, and she lives with lesbians.

So I'm starting to think that this particular subplot is some kind of attempt at ironic edginess. I'd probably care less if I wasn't a) Christian, and b) a writer myself. It shows the same lack-of-thinking as some of the other stuff.

Just to be clear, this isn’t portrayed as a good thing. The protag’s job - which he seems remarkably cavalier about - is to make sure Little Miss Godette doesn’t grow up toxic.

For obvious reasons, that would be bad.

#personal #fanfic #sjws #social justice #writing

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bacchicly · 3 years ago

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A GARVEZ BOXING LESSON ONE SHOT: HE'S GOT HIS HANDS. SHE'S GOT HER LIPS.

This a "happier version" of Chapter 10 of Deep and Crisp and Even for those who are not keen on the lovers to friends trope I'm exploring over there. This is published as a stand alone as this chapter will not be included in the "happy version of DCE" (soon to be re-titled)

Paring: Penelope Garcia x Luke Alvez

Summary: Penelope has prepared a surprise for Luke. This can be read as a stand alone or as a follow-up to I HAVE YOU: A HAPPY MUSICAL ONESHOT.

Many thanks to the lovely and brilliant @vangsn who helped with some of the Spanish.🧡 Any mistakes are of course mine.

Words: 8500

Content: Sex, Boxing, Fluff, a small injury, a bit of random sadness

FYI: Sex is that of an established couple using birth control but no protection against sti/std - decisions were mindfully made following conversations not featured in text.

After a morning of listening to music and some very kiss-a-riffic floor sex at Luke's apartment, Penelope and Luke wake up - or rather…

Penelope wakes up... realizes they have fallen asleep on his hard living room floor and starts laughing so hard and helplessly that Luke groggily opens one eye.

Luke awkwardly tilts his head up off the hard floor so he can peer down at the cackling woman sprawled nakedly across his chest.

"Luke! Oh! oh! oh! That was awesome but we have to stop meeting like this! Oh! Oof. O.M.G you have a hard floor! ... and..oh.. ow..and I am turning into a Penelope-cicle! Don't bother turning your heat on, Mister I'm-So-Hot-Furnaces-Are-For-Other-People ....oh...and...oh...and my arm is all pins and needles! Ooooh. Ouch. Oh. Oh...I can't breath...oh...this is your fault "

Penelope's words swoop and fly on the momentum of her laughter and she is gasping and howling with mirth mixed with little mewls of discomfort as she alternates between trying to untangle herself and flopping back down against his warmth. Luke for his part has one arm wrapped around her - his eyes closed - his fingers enjoying whatever skin her wriggling brings close - and is silently shaking with silent manly giggles.

"I can not believe we just fell asleep AGAIN in some AWKWARD-ASS post-coital position in the MIDDLE of the afternoon. Seriously! It's like you think we're in some modern day version of The Notebook or something and we have time to… Oh wait! Panic stations! What time is it?!?! Luke Alvez if we slept through..."

Penelope grabs Luke's wrist which still has his massive watch wrapped around it - bending his hand awkwardly so that she can try to make out the time with her nearsighted eyes - it is honestly a bit of a mystery how that thing hasn't inflicted her with any scrapes or bruises during all their canoodling...

"OW! PENNY STOP - ARMS DON'T BEND THAT WAY! LET ME, WOMAN."

Luke pulls his arm out of her reach and checks the time "It is 4 hours and 17 minutes of the clock, madam. Although why it matt-"

"Oh! Thank goodness we didn't sleep through it - almost but not quite. Quick! Where did you put my bag?"

The previously floundering Penelope Garcia finally makes it to her feet and is headed with great determination - naked as the day she was born - to the front hall where she is pretty sure she left her bag. Luke's eyes are now wide open. He wolf whistles playfully - which brings Penelope up short - she tosses A LOOK over her shoulder - ok it's more of a glare that melts into one of her cheeky thousand watt grins - but that still counts as A LOOK, right?

Having rendered Luke back into the usual state for him these days: dumbly besotted… Penelope turns triumphantly and carries on with her self-appointed mission - although not without rewarding him with a bit more of a sauntering step and a very nice bum wiggle.

Luke Alvez is a very happy man.

In a nonce, the lovely Penelope is back with the large bag she had insisted on bringing this morning… a big black tote decorated with multi-coloured geometric cats. She sits on the floor beside him in a mermaid pose - legs swept primly to one side and behind her like she's wearing one of her usual short skirts.

Curious, Luke swings himself into a crossed legged position - smirking slightly as he catches her gaze first land on - her pink tongue reflexively darting out to wet her lip - and then be purposely averted away from his semi-erect penis... only to land on his chest...which seems to have her just as transfixed.

"My eyes are up here, darling."

"Yeah, cus' those peepers of yours are any less distracting? It really should be illegal for me to be as attracted to anyone as I am to you. But I digress. Don't you want to know about the surprise?"

"But of course, my lady! It's the only reason I'm currently all the way over here instead of over there showing you…"

With his words, Luke reaches out one arm and touches her face with a single finger, tracing a crescent from her temple down to her chin, then lazily letting his finger trace her well-kissed lips. Penelope closes her eyes and just lets him touch - drinking in his husky words.

"… showing you why, if it were illegal for you to be so attracted to me, there would have to be a warrant out - stating that for my crimes of passion - I am wanted dead or alive."

Penelope snaps her eyes open at that. She parts her lips with a squeak-soon-to-be-protest but Luke is all smiles and innocently rests his hands in his lap.

"I thought you had a surprise to show me, Chica?"

"Just because you…arghh...o.k….. Ta da!"

With a flourish, she pulls out an envelope and a knobbly plastic bag with the logo of an online sports shop. She hands the envelope to Luke - it's blank and white and unsealed - so he pulls out the white piece of paper that is inside. It's the printout of a receipt...with all the prices blacked out… but apparently Penelope has booked them an hour long private lesson at 5:30 pm tonight at a local boxing gym.

"I um checked THEIR records just to make sure it wasn't where you usually go...since I wasn't sure what you were telling your non-bau friends about all this… but otherwise all I know are the reviews are good - oh and I made sure it was real boxing not like boxing fitness...not that there is anything wrong with that...it's just that...I wanted to go for authenticity, y'know? I signed us up for an intro lesson - but explained that they needed to pitch it so that someone with a lot of boxing experience and someone with no experience could get something out of it. I thought you might like?"

"Oh. I like. Penelope Grace Garcia, you have done it again. So what's in the bag?"

"The guy said we wouldn't be doing any sparring so we don't need mouth or head protectors for today… although if you have them - you should bring them - but he said we would need to wrap our hands and use gloves. He said we could borrow from the gym. I figured you have your own gear - but the guy I spoke to at the gym said boxers can always use new hand wraps...so here you go…"

Luke, who thought he could not be surprised any more by this woman of his...stares gape-jawed down at the hand wraps she's handed to him. They are printed with a bright blue geometric pattern - way fancier than the ratty plain ones he has in his closet...and when he peers more closely he sees that at the intersections of the light and dark blue lines there are the silhouettes of little German Shepherd type dogs.

Where the heck did she find these?

He looks up to ask and his eyes catch on the pink leopard print boxing gloves and pink camo hand wraps she's set on the ground between them - wonderingly he picks up a glove and checks it - the brand is one he's familiar with and trusts, the wrist support seems to have the right degree of firmness, the leather and stitching are good, and the weight and balance seem right for a training glove meant for her.

"...and since I am not going to use icky sweaty shared equipment….these are for me. The guy at the gym sent me some hints on what I should be looking for - but he didn't tell me how cute boxing equipment could be. They had hello kitty hand wraps but I decided I just couldn't repeatedly punch something with hands wrapped in her adorable visage...they also had crime scene tape ones which I considered for you...but frankly we are on vacation and do not need any additional reminders of work right now. If we decide to keep it up - I'll get the rest of whatever it is I need."

As he examines first her glove then her hand wraps, Luke lets Penelope's words flow over him, partly listening and partly marveling at how incredible it is that he gets to spend time with this amazing person who is so full of care and verve and imagination. He has no idea what he did in a past life to deserve this time he gets with her...but whatever it was must have been unspeakably good… far better than anything he has done so far in this one that is for sure.

"Luke? Say something. Are they ok? Or did I get bamboozled? The guy said this was what I should look-"

"They are perfect. You are perfect."

Luke leans forward and kisses her full on the mouth. But almost before the kiss has hardly even begun he pulls back - checking his watch - calculating frantically.

"Pen, it is now 4:37 - let's say 20 to 5.. If I remember correctly the gym we're going to is 15 minutes from my place by car? And it says here we should arrive about 5:15 to check in and get our wraps on etc. So we have…about 20 minutes to get ready and be in the car. What do you think, Chica… do you think we can have the quickiest of quickies and still get there on time?"

"Well...we are already naked."

"You read my mind."

"How then? It needs to be super fast and it's not like we've been cursed with abstinence today to help us hurry things along..."

"Not going to be a problem." Luke reaches for her as he lies down on his back gently pushing away the boxing stuff... "Get over here. Kiss me."

Penelope clambors over and straddles him up on all fours - her hair curtaining around them as she leans down to kiss him with her hot roving mouth. His hands run up the backs of her thighs - firmly - quickly - then cup and massage her arse - then slide deliciously up her back - each touch sending a frenzy of heat through her - and more blood pumping fiercely into his cock - from the angle it's pointing - no one would call his erection a semi now. They both had thought they had tried every kiss on the menu and that from now on there would be only delicious seconds to be had...but no… this kiss is somehow its own unique brand of hot and questing and oh my goodness…

Luke's hands have now slipped down around her rib cage and he cannot get enough of playing with her dangling heavy breasts - his thumbs brush and then swirl and then rub over her rock hard nipples and she cries into his mouth - sucking hard at his tongue - until he squeezes both breasts hard - and she gasps and arches - pulling up and away from his grasp - so that her breasts swing free and oh god he loops his forearms her under her armpits - pulling her to lean just far enough that he can get a nipple and a good portion of the surrounding soft flesh into his mouth.

He sucks hard.

"Luke! Sweet Jiminy Cricket! Oh everloving fuzziness...ooooh!"

He sucks again. His other hand is back on her other breast. First squeezing and massaging and then his fingers are tweaking her nipple - pulling it so her whole breast stretches exquisitely - not so it hurts just so that she feels it to her toes.

Penelope is gasping. Her face is red, tingling and aching from the intense arousal that slammed through her so quickly. Her quim is reacting even more strongly - positively pulsing - shooting messages of "now!" and "touch me!" - clenching in frustration that it is empty and alone. Penelope is hardly going to have to worry about doing her kegel exercises this week, now is she?

Then Luke's free hand slips down and finds her clit - fingering her ever so gently.

Penelope howls wordlessly and then cusses very wordily.

Luke chokes on a laugh and just sucks hard on the breast in his mouth - breathing in hard through his nose - adding fingers and pressure to his feeling up of her quim as she grinds mindlessly into his hand.

Penny only has a split second to think - I am cumming! before everything goes white and she chokes out Luke's name. She dimly hears him ordering her to ride him - dimly feels his one hand grab her ass and pull her down - down onto his hard cock which he is guiding into her - once securely pushed deep into her - Luke grabs her her rib cage - guiding forcing her to sit back on her haunches before her shaking arms give out and she ends up sprawled on top of him.

Slowly it dawns on Penelope that Luke's hands and words are encouraging her to grind down on him - not bounce - and that she is following his directions.

"That's right, Penny, that's right, grind it out. Grind it out, sweetheart. Penny… you… feel… so….good...and your breasts...are...oh...my...beautiful… gor...gor...geous… so hot…"

Luke makes this guttural sound then and his hips thrust hard up into her and she switches from hard grinding figure eights to a rocking riding 1-2 motion... speeding up when she sees the look on his face...1-2...1-2...faster and faster… and then she has her breath back to chant…

"Cum for me Luke. Cum now. Cum hard. Cum now. Cum hard. Cum now. Cum hard. We have to go. We have to go. We have to go.

Luke starts to buck harder and faster - his skin is lathered in sweat - he is snorting and his face is turning purple - and Penelope is riding riding riding…her hands on rubbing up and down over his belly...she is shouting shouting at him.

"CUM LUKE NOW. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU."

And suddenly he is shouting and cum-cum-cumming what feels like ropes and ropes and ropes and ropes of hot sticky semen high up into Penelope. One hand clenches around her - with the other he slaps the floor open palmed and stingingly hard - over and over. It is too much. All too much. All too much.

And then he feels her cum around him again - unexpectedly - hard and clenching and tight - and something inside of him orgasms again - this time is is dry but his toes curl - his body shakes - the edges of his vision blacken as they clench hard hard hard and then she falls on him shaking and clinging.

They both blink hard trying to come down from the high.

"Ahh. Ten to Five. Get off me wench - we need the world's fastest shower, make sure Roxy is set for the couple hours, and into our gym clothing stat."

"Aye. Aye. Oh a bit wobbly."

"I will hold you up...but we have to hustle. I can't be late...this amazing woman bought me a boxing lesson."

***********************************

Miraculously, Luke and Penelope made it into the car by 5:03. The traffic lights were good to them, so by stretching just a couple speeding limits, they were pulling into the gym at 5:16.

They'd both put on only their gym shorts and t-shirts under their coats after their lightning fast shower - so they sprint for the door to avoid as much of the D.C. December wind as possible.

Penelope shrieks with laughter for the second time that day as her tote bag bounces on her shoulder and Luke grabs her elbow as they slip and slide across the parking lot.

A bell over the door rings as they push their way into the glorious warmth of the gym. When Luke notices Penelope's nose crinkle the tiniest bit it is his turn to laugh. He takes a deep breath - the air is fairly fresh but with undertones of stale sweat and rust and leather - the smells that became so familiar to him as a kid when he first started tagging along with his older cousins to the boxing gym in their neighborhood. Perfection.

Luke can't help but turn to the wall opposite the reception desk to scan the framed cuttings and photographs of boxers who clearly trained at this gym. There are several prize belts displayed too and more than a few of the plaques awarded for coaching excellence. It's an impressive collection and Luke recognizes more than one name.

Just then an older tall bald man comes into the front office from the gym area to greet his 5:30 private lesson. Penelope hussles over hand outstretched.

"Mr. Moreno! Good to see you again! You may not remember me? I'm-"

"Miss Penelope. Of course I remember you, Princessa! And I told you to call me-"

"Manny?"

Both Penelope and the trainer spin just in time to see the look of pure surprise and joy completely take over Luke's countenance. The next thing Penelope knows, Luke and Manny are hugging it out and filling the room with these glorious plummy laughs.

When they finally break apart, Manny smiles at Luke like a long lost son, cupping his face with a rough palm and speaking Spanish way faster than Penelope can process - oh she picks up a few words here and there "abuela", "casa", "padre", and a favourite of her step-father's… "esos primos tuyos alborotadores"...just enough to deduce that Manny is asking about Luke's family.

Luke who seems to be struck mostly dumb by this surprise encounter, just nods adding few words here and there, until Manny asks one question which he punctuates with a head tilt in Penelope's direction…

At that point, Luke shakes his head in a hard "No." Manny's fluffy gray eyebrows almost fly off his head in disapproval. Luke just shrugs helplessly - it's too soon to talk about marriage and he doesn't want to scare Penelope away even though he's been thinking about what it would be like to be married to her since the moment he met her. Manny looks like he is about to say more - so Penelope jumps in.

"So how do you know Manny, Luke? And not to rush things but I am going to need one of you fine gentlemen to help me with my hand wraps since I have absolutely no idea what I am doing!"

Penelope sees the relief that momentarily flashes in her love's eyes at the rescue.

"Sorry, Pen! Manny ran the gym in my neighborhood growing up. I used to tag along after my older cousins and Manny would let me hang on the ropes and watch them train or hold their towels. I would beg him to give me lessons so finally finally he started giving me drills to do off in the corner. Sometimes I'd even be allowed to spar with the big boys."

"Finally. Bah. He was only 4! He makes it sound like I kept him on the ropes until he could grow hair on his chin!"

"So sue me. It felt like a very long wait!" Luke throws an arm over Manny's shoulders. "Manny let me train at his gym all through highschool until I left for the army."

"He coulda been something too if it wasn't for all those nights chasing skirts at the clubs."

"Yeah yeah..I coulda been a contender… Manny you know it was the music not the skirts that had me hooked."

Penelope jumps back into the banter with a teasing smile, "So the skirts were just a fringe benefit, eh mister tall, dark, and blandsome?"

"Hey! It was the Nineties - no one's skirt had fringe!"

"Where did you spend the Nineties, Newbie? Under a rock? I had at least 3 fringed pencil skirts! Not to mention at least one fringed blazer à la Saved By The Bell."

Penelope and Luke have swayed together as they banter - all grins and heart-eyes.

Manny shakes his head with a bark of a laugh and claps Luke on the back.

"¿Y dices que no te vas a casar con ella? Ten cuidado, hijo... porque quizás yo lo haga. Alright you two - let's get ready to rumble as they say…Luke I imagine you can still manage your own hand wraps… so I will help, nuestra amiga. Let's go, Princessa… Luke."

Manny leads the way into the gym. They follow, but Luke looks anxiously at Penelope and whispers,"You still don't understand Spanish, right?"

"Right. But I do speak teasing old guy in any language…so I do have some idea of what might be being said. Don't worry, ok Luke?"

"I'll try."

Penelope gives his closest hand a quick squeeze. Then raises her voice so that it's loud enough now for Manny to catch what she's saying.

"Well you heard the man! Let's get ready to RUMBLE! I am ready to learn this so-called Sweet Science."

At that, Luke can't help but lean over and rasp into her ear - his tongue curling the words like a promise…

"Pen-el-o-pe… you know it's bizarrely hot that you know boxing is called the Sweet Science. Did you know they say that in boxing your mind is your best muscle? If that's the case…then I really am gonna be a goner if we ever find ourselves in the ring, Prin-."

Just then Manny turns back to them, catching Penelope's flustered blush.

"C'mon you two NOT-ENGAGED love birds - come meet your coach for today's lesson - we'll explain how it is going to work while you gear up - you sit here, Princessa. Yo! Lukey Boy? Over here."

They sit where they are told and both open their bags and pull out their stuff. Manny let's out a low whistle when he sees their fancy handwraps - then looks straight at Luke and waggles his eyebrows starting to count up from one the boxing knockout hand signals that he first taught Luke as a boy - another warning that this woman was not one to let get away - that Luke should fight for her. Luke emphatically glares at his old mentor and then breaks eye contact to pointedly wrap his hands.

"Boss? This my private lesson?"

For the second time tonight, Luke's head whips around in recognition. This time it is a woman who appears to be in her late thirties early forties and looks like a shorter buffer version of Tara who has made his head spin. Luke jumps to his feet.

"Marissa? Marissa Talbot? What the heck are you doing in DC?"

"Luke Alvez? Get outta town! What AM I doing here? What are YOU doing here? Last I heard you were chasing fugitives in Montana or some other forsaken place. Get over here!"

Now it is Penelope's turn to experience deja vu…as she watches Luke greet a second "long lost whoever"...

WHAT IN THE SEVEN KINGDOMS IS HAPPENING? GREAT OOGLY MOOGLY!

"Penelope?"

His voice is gentle but it still makes Penelope start, "Oh! Yes! Oh hi!"

"Pen - get over here. I have the great honour of introducing you to my good friend from my time in the Army, Marissa Talbot! One of the best hand to hand combat teachers I have ever come across. Mar this is Penelope Garcia - we both work together on the same team at the FBI and she is probably the best technical consultant on the planet."

Marissa shakes Penelope's now-wrapped-hand enthusiastically - first beaming at the colourful woman and then smirking back at Luke.

"Nice to meet you! He's a bit faint on dishing out praise ain't he? ONE OF THE BEST - PROBABLY THE BEST…REALLY MAN? So I guess if his assessments are consistent you are head and shoulders above the rest of your field? Oh and smart guy… it's actually Marissa Moreno now. I married this old guy's daughter for some reason."

"Wait!? Gianna is in town too?"

Manny butts in, with a chuckle:

"Yup and she runs a swanky café four blocks west of here. And as for you, Missy, the reason you married into my family is that you have good taste - in father-in-laws at least. Now...there is boxing to be done!"

But before anyone can agree or even draw a breath…Manny barrels on…

"I cannot believe you, Marissa, know our Luke! And apparently today is old home week at the gym. Are you a witch, Princessa? Did you make this happy magic happen for our boy here?"

"No. Believe me. I had no idea."

Penelope's eyes are huge and fixed on Luke and her voice is tinged with urgency - although only Luke can hear that particular undertone. Which makes sense, because he is the only one there who knows she could easily have used her mad skills to at minimum anticipate this reunion. Truthfully, it would have been easier than snapping for her to rig a meet up like this if she had wanted to.

But… Luke is pretty sure - no, completely sure - Marissa's right, he should stop hedging - so… he is completely confident the urgency stems from her being afraid he'll accuse her of digging into his past - not that she's actually done it. He trusts deep down she would never do that unless she had an excellent life or death reason - or at least one she seemed as such…you know, like he had a no good brother who was coming to town and might make him sad or want to borrow money…

So yes he trusts her…but… he'll also tease her about the possibility that she might have done some cyber magic to engineer the events of the day - but later - Manny's right…

"Of course you didn't, Pen! It's just that the best things in life follow you around like little ducklings and the rest of us love it when we get to bask in the happines-."

Marissa punches Luke in the shoulder grinning like a monster at her old friend.

"Luke! I do not remember you being such a softy in Iraq…well except maybe with the doggos - what did this lady do to you?"

"Apparently not enough to get him to make an honest woman of her. Lukey Boy here-"

"Alrighty, break it up…break it up…time enough for is all to reconnect *slash* make fun of me later. Marissa over to you…where do you want us? I can't wait to make a boxer out of Penelope Garcia so that the world may tremble at her feet!"

"Don't you mean tremble HARDER, Newbie?"

……..

Marissa leads them over to two crosses taped on the floor and while she leads them through a basic warmup, explains that they will start with stance and then she will run through the basic punches with both of them. Then, she'll set up Luke with a series of shadow boxing drills while she shows Penelope the basics of foot work. After that she will bring them back together to do some punching drills.

Penelope instantly loves the first part of the lesson. Marissa gets Luke to put on his full (including his mouthguard and headgear - which Penelope privately thinks makes him look like a teddy bear) and then instructs him to demonstrate his stance.

The best part is they do this drill that checks Luke's stability and Marissa gets Penelope to slap his shoulders one at a time and then his elbows to see how solid he is. Then the women switch places and Marissa throws a series of individual punches to his body and head (describing them as she goes) instructing Luke to stay in place and block - but reminding him that the point is not to go crazy with his defense but to work on his balance and stability. Next, Marissa gets Luke to demonstrate the punches but gets him to freeze midway through the movement and gets Penelope to slap him again to find where the motion has left him vulnerable. After each punch or slap, Marissa compliments what is working and then suggests a minor correction or alternative method. Penelope can tell that Luke is comfortable and confident but also that he takes Marissa's suggestions for how to tweak his stance and blocks extremely seriously. It is exceedingly clear how much he respects his old army friend's opinion.

It gives Penelope a glowy feeling… it's kinda like… well…you know how they tell women to pay attention to how a man treats his female family members and friends because it can show a lot about how they will treat a potential partner? That's what it feels like is happening here - like Penelope is getting to see how truly truly respectful Luke is of the women in his life. Oh sure, she's seen him work respectfully with Tara, J.J, and Em for years…and treat female victims and witnesses with the utmost dignity… and she knows deep to her bones how good he is to her…. but seeing the way he is with Marissa brings one more layer into her appreciation for his overall treatment and regard of 'the female of the species'. She knows it's something so simple - something that should just be expected - and thus not noteworthy… but their work so often proves that unfortunately not every man (or woman) is able or conditioned or willing to see women as people - let alone people deserving respect… so she can't help but have a reaction whenever she is given evidence that there are good men out there - and the fact that for right now at least… they are together? He has chosen her?

Indescribable.

As the lesson progresses, Penelope finds that learning the punches reminds her of the lessons Derek gave her in shooting - except more comfortable? So far this whole thing hasn't given her any flashbacks to her shooting or when she had to shoot Baylor. Mostly she is reminded of the millions of evil p.e. classes she had to attend in highschool and that day the evil Derek tricked her and Reid into doing the F.B.I. fitness test. That Derek - despite being her beloved best friend and a truly good man - had the occasional ability to be a prize jackass.

Luke's favourite part of the lesson is after they have done some work on the heavy bag and the speed bag and Marissa gets him to put on the focus mitts and catch Penelope's punches. This woman he's fallen for is ridiculously adorable and remarkably strong and precise for a beginner. By this point he has his head gear off and has worked up quite a sweat doing the various drills Marissa had thrown at him over the last hour, so he is totally jazzed and they just can't stop laughing and goading each other - which just makes Penny more determined and fierce.

The lesson finishes around 7:30 pm (Marissa totally gave them extra time for free) and they leave with promises to come back for more and to meet up soon for dinner and very tired sweaty hungry bodies.. the teasing from Manny and Marissa about neither of them having warm-up pants echoing in their ears…

Shrieking with laughter Penelope and Luke make for the car as quickly as possible - slipping and sliding on the slick icy pavement…

They almost make it to the truck safe and sound when just after they part to go to their respective sides of the cab - Penelope's foot shoots out behind her on a particularly dicey patch.

"Oh! Oh!"

Sounding like a cartoon character, she pitches forward - then she slams chin first against the edge of the hood before she is able to catch herself with her hands and push up using the freezing metal surface to scrabble herself back to standing.

Luke is by her side in the fastest move he's made tonight - helping her into the freezing front seat - her legs dangling - as he makes her face him. He thinks from the way she moved as she took the steps needed to get into the car that Penelope is mostly dazed - nothing seems to be causing her pain except her chin and her lip which looks like it got bit hard when she struck the truck. But he checks anyways, asking soft questions sliding his hands down her legs making her bend knee then ankle then doing the same for her arms - making her check that there is no pain in her shoulder or elbows or wrists when she moves. Asking her to make a fist with each hand - wiggle her fingers. Checking that she can lower her chin to her chest, look up, look to the side. Once convinced that she is reasonably ok, Luke grabs a blanket from the back and tucks it around her knees. He considers heading back into the gym for an ice pack, but one look at shivering Penelope - who has only said yes or no to his questions and who looks pretty much at the end of her rope - and he opts to just grab a towel from his gym bag and wrap it around some clean snow.

"Penny? Hold this against your lip, ok? Home time."

“I’m… … …”

“You’re what, Beautiful?”

Her eyes peek guiltily at him from behind her glasses.

“Sorry.”

“For what? Planning the best day ever?”

Penelope gives him her best “get out of town you person who is deliberately and annoyingly aggravating me” look.

“Ohhh you mean for slipping? No sorries needed. Everything is going to be ok. We’re going to get Roxy, grab something that is 100% delish, change into warm comfy clothing, and watch something relaxing and go to bed, deal? The perfect end to the perfect day. Now, just hold that to your lip, ok?”

She answers in one of the smallest voices he's ever heard her use and the words are muffled by the makeshift ice pack "Thank you."

They are silent for a bit as Luke pulls out and then it is Penelope who broke the silence.

"You know I have never ever dug into your past right? Not that I wasn't tempted but .."

"I know Penny. You were genuinely surprised first by my music collection and then by the chance reunion. I never would doubt you. Pen - I trust you. I always have. It was.."

But Luke won't say it. Won't say that it was her who struggled to trust him. Won't say how hard it was to gain her trust. It doesn't matter.

The rest of the drive back through town is quiet but comfortable, they pick up Roxy, pick up some take-away, and head to Penelope's to feed humans and animals alike. Ready for a comfy evening at home.

….

The evening rolls on just as Luke had laid out - and Penelope regains her bounce with the infusion of warmth and good food and mindless old T.V. - and after a few episodes of the Rockford Files, both Luke and Penelope are completely ready to curl up together in bed.

Luke draws Penelope a hot bath - adding lavender Epsom salts - then sits beside her as she soaks reading aloud from an old favourite he - of course - found on her shelf:

"Chapter 1: An Unexpected Party…. In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbithole, and that means comfort…"

Then while Penelope heads to the bedroom to get into her jammies...Luke takes his turn in the washroom - having a super quick shower - then smiling to himself as brushes his teeth.

WHAT A DAY!

When he sidles to the bedroom though - pj pants slung low on his hip and his chest bare - there is Penny sitting on the bed in her soft warm pink nightgown as he expected - but what is not expected is she is leaning back against the headboard, hands are knotted in the covers on her lap, and fat slow silent tears are rolling down her cheeks.

"Penny?"

"I don't know what's wrong - I'm just suddenly so sad..."

Luke tosses the towel he was using to dry his hair into the corner and crawls up onto the bed beside her. She turns her head - not away to hide - towards him - eyes wide and pleading and so so so tired. Her poor lip and chin is a bit swollen and scraped but - he guesses rightly - that is not the problem. He reaches out cupping the sides of her face in his warm strong hands - pushing his fingers into her hair - smoothing the tears away from under her eyes with firm strokes of his thumbs. She closes her eyes like at cat - pushing into his touch almost imperceptibly - but he feels her response and knows that the amount of pressure he applies instinctively was what she needed so he repeats the gesture with the same firmness - feeling her lean in just a bit more - but the tears don't stop - no, Penelope let's go and start to sob into his hold - but Luke doesn't flinch or let go. Instead,.he pulls her to him in a hug and she bawls messily into his shoulder - he smells of his spicy shampoo/body wash - which for some reason she can't figure out - makes her cry harder - cling tighter. Her lip stings and her chin throbs but she ignores it…. and just weeps.

Luke asks nothing of her - does not seek an explanation for her tears - or tries to stem them in any way. Just holds her until slowly slowly the wracking sobs lessen until all that is left are little shaky hiccupy breaths. And still he just holds her - kissing the top of her blond head - whispering comforting non-sense - until she is completely cried out.

Penelope feels wrung out - heavily vacant - not an ounce of give left in her. She cannot summon any part of herself to care or want in a waking way and yet she welcomes his strong arms and his touch. This passivity is not the 'put on' or 'stepped into' indulgence they have allowed to grow between them where she lets him have - gives him - control at times for the pleasure of it.

No, there is no let or give about this.

What is - just is.

In this moment, Luke literally has total care of her because she has nothing to exert in care of herself.

He must decide what is next.

What is best.

Oh, both he and she knows she has agency and if she were with practically anyone else on the planet there is no way she would have allowed herself to be this vulnerable. He remembers how she pulled herself in when he found her weeping when Reid was in prison - trying to push him away. This is a complete reversal of her behaviour that day and that she has given in this far to her grief in his presence? It is a mark of how much her trust in him has grown - a testament to all the small ways they have earned each other's respect and confidence over the last few months.

Luke can practically smell Penelope's sadness and exhaustion - for even though she is cried out - neither is either resolved nor vanquished and it is still oh so palpable - cloying in the air around them - buzzing with an unsettlingness under his fingertips.

And who is he to deny this moment?

Sometimes tears need space and time to be shed and our wildness must be set free.

As Luke thinks and holds this rather soggy love of his life…

…Penelope, still trembling and snuffling - thinking that she probably looks a tear-stained mess but truly not caring because she is just so tired and profoundly done - finds that she is nuzzling miniature teeny tiny ever-so-dear micro-kisses into his bare chest. His chest hair rasps against her sore lips and wet cheeks - but she doesn't stop. Her emotional state is a heady mix of physical exhaustion and mental overwhelm, sadness over all the horror they have to stare down every day, self-satisfaction for planning such a good surprise for Luke, and a wild unfocused spitting gnashing anger at anything and everything that ever hurt or destroyed that which could be precious or good or beautiful.

Luke notices her snuffling explorations but doesn't loosen his hold - he remembers how she craved his weight upon her the other night and guesses she'll let him know if he's exerting too much pressure.

Penelope finds herself with her mouth right next to his flat brown coin of a nipple - she opens her mouth almost in a silent roar - and then bites down in agonising slow motion - her teeth dragging - then clamping around a mouthful of hot taught man flesh. Not on the nipple…just up and towards the centre of his chest.

Luke straightens - breathing in sharply through his nose - then holding her tighter gritting his teeth and grunting her name as the pain blooms electrically from where she's bit him. She lets go then and leans back so she can look up into his face - and she could never tell him why - but she bares her teeth then and hisses at him like a jungle cat with its hackles up - her nose crinkling like a mad feral thing. It is both terrifying and strangely adorable to him - and strangest of all he finds himself hissing and nose crinkling and teeth baring right back. She snaps at him - then hisses open mouthed at him again - then pants him in - the scent of him - the heat of him - her body stretching and tightening and Luke matches her - mirrors her - spars with her - and they are slammed surprisingly into a place infused the tension of courting wildcats or mating Klingons or a lovers tryst between two of those blue jaguar-like warriors from Avatar.

Up now on her hands and knees - backing away from him towards the end of the bed - eyes flashing - a gleam of a smile curling her lips - her cheeks streaked with mascara like she is a tigress - the juxtaposition of Penelope's pink frilly nightgown with this new barbaric glee should be comical - but it is somehow right and just makes her attitude more louche.

As the space grows between them, Luke finds himself bending forward - his weight on his hands - he fists the sheets - pulling himself forward - landing on his knees - stalking her - but fully aware she is dangerous prey.

Their clothing and the bedclothes bunch and catch - but they ignore it or fight through the tangle. They snarl and snap at each other - mouths coming so close - they breath in the other's hot breath - but never come together. Penelope lunges - licking his shoulder with a broad flat tongue then nipping - memorizing the salty taste of him for despite his shower this new round of play has made him suddenly slick with sweat and pheromones - rearing up as he pulls up and back and then does his own lunging - surging forward and curling down - sinking his teeth into the flesh of her shoulder blade exposed by the curve of her neckline - just below her nape - then switches to sucking - pulling a glorious mouthful of Penelope deep in mouth taking his turn to taste her salty sweetness - then releasing her and laving 'the wound' with wet tender strokes of his tongue.

Penelope mewls… then rolls out of bed - kneeling on the floor - pulling the hem of her nightdress free of the weight of her knees - then raising arms above her head. He follows and swoops down - grabbing handfuls of the nightdress - dragging it violently over her head exposing her body to the night - to him. He throws it away and then steps away - pushing down and stepping out of his soft pants.

Penelope is back on hands and knees - back to a place of untamed head tosses and lips pulled back to show her fangs. Her breathing is harsh and powerful - every move both a warning and an invitation.

If Luke weren't so caught up himself - she might appear ridiculous - but he is right there with her. His nostrils flare, he bares his teeth, he falls to his hands and knees and advances on her - teasing and snapping - his fingers like claws on the purple and black throw rug of Penelope's bedroom. They circle each other - feeling the animalistic pull between them. He finally catches her in one quick move - grabbing her hips - dragging her back towards him as he goes to mount her - biting her again on her shoulder like a stray dog mounting a bitch … but Penelope is too fast - she twists away - bounding like a feline queen to the bed - but laughing now as Luke sprawls then catches himself. Now he bounds and joins her - both in laughter and on the bed…

Penelope is lying on her back - the bounty of her body spread out for him as Luke lands and stretches out beside her. Her skin is flushed and the wildness is gone from her eyes - she is now all softness and vulnerability. Luke props himself up on one elbow and then cups his free hand gently around her neck - stroking her throat with his thumb - a whisper of a touch - feeling as she swallows spasmodically. Penelope closes her eyes and Luke presses a kiss to each lid. And then the side of her face and then her shoulder - each one a press of lips, then stroke tongue, and then a sucking and nibbling of flesh - his mouth reaches the slope of her breast and then he finally he tongues and sucks her nipple - her fingers tangling in his hair - pulling him closer. He senses the exact moment where she goes utterly limp - giving in. He presses his special brand of kiss, lick suck to the underside of each breast and then kisses his way back up her body - moving to cover her - letting his full weight press into her belly and between her legs as he presses new kisses to the side of her face - buries his lips against the crook of her neck - breathing in the scent of her hair - glorying the feeling of her hands that are now running up and down his back leading him to transform his kisses into a roving hunt of nibbling and sucking - alert to what brings a moan or a pant from her soft wet mouth or her nails spasming into his back.

I am going to be covered in love bites tomorrow.

The thought makes her growl and then cry out and arch up hard under her lover and all at once she needs him. All of him. Now.

She hisses again and now it is his shoulder that is being marked - and not just by wild sucking but by teeth as well - and it is now Luke who is gasping and arching.

Penelope lets go and somehow flips over again - thrusting and taunting him with her ass up as she raises onto elbows and knees inviting Luke to mount her again. This time there is no allusion to dogs to be made - they as regal as a lion and lioness. He rocks with her movement - kneeling behind the lush round ass she is presenting to him with a cheeky sway. His cock is ferociously hard and weeping with pre-cum. He reaches between her legs and strokes the wet flesh - letting two fingers tangle with her clit - pressing and then gently pulling - playing first fast and loose with her tender flesh - then zeroing in circle hard and fast on target - he does hurry her but waits until he is rewarded with a mad shriek from his lover. Then - only then - he pulls his hands back around cupping and spreading her ass cheeks - ducking down to lick at the seam between the two then up her spine. Her whole body trembles and then lifts and then pushes back against him - physically begging him to cover her - to rut - to mate. And like a feral thom pushes his cock deep into her pussy - an appropriate word for this wild cat-like love making.

Penelope is rearing and thrusting - loving every bit of his cock that pushes inside her - pressing into his clever fingers which are massaging the globes of her ass making her want to growl and bare her teeth - so she does. Then her tired brain makes sense of the words he's saying as he thrusts deep:

"That's right wildcat. I've got you. Cum for me my jaguar, my lioness, my queen cat."

And Penelope is rearing and stretching and clawing and then…and then…and then… she is cumming all around him. And it feels incredible for both of them - but he just thrusts through - holding back - refusing to explode - then when he feels Penelope slump in release - he pulls out. And she is so empty…she howls at the moon and the stars and all things wild….

But he deftly guides her onto her back and now he is heavy on top of her…and he is back inside of her and she is wet and all around him - still quivering from her untamed orgasm. And he looks in her eyes and he thrusts and now he is all human - all language - all words - and love. And he thrusts. And thrusts. And as he plunges into her there are words - so many gasped shouted strangled aching words tumble from his lips and tongue… and they tell of how glorious she is and how she deserves happiness and how she is his human. It is all that is the best of humanity - it is not a sweet or tender joining but wrangled and desperate and raw.

And still he thrusts and he thrusts and he thrusts… and as thrusts he names her…gasping and rasping: names her as his love, his life, his happiness, his hope, his home, his mate… and he thrusts and he thrusts and it is a 'once upon a time' mixed with a 'and they lived happily ever after' and 'there be dragons' - a poem and a prayer and a song and still he thrusts and thrusts… and as sweat pours off of him onto her…and they adjust their bodies as they ride and they gain a new stride - she turns to waterfalls and starlight and the smell of spring and baby ducklings all in a row and mittens and kittens and all that is good and she is a puddle - his puddle - and still he thrusts and thrusts and thrusts….

…Until finally all wildness is spent and all of their humanity is fled and all they are is joined light.

They spiral into a supernova together and all is sunlight and summer time and spotlights at concerts and they cum - oh how they cum - and then they roll together into a heap of love and contentment and trust and sleep.

They sleep and sleep.

And the world - all in it that is feral - all in it that is humane - all in it that is pure energy - smiles.

.....................................

List of my other One Shots and Happy Versions: Here

Thank you so much for reading - I'd love to hear what you think.

All the best,

🤎 Bacchic

#criminal minds #garvez #penelope garcia #luke alvez #garvez smut #garvez fanfiction

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willowcrowned · 3 years ago

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Hi, I just found your blog and I love it! I have nevere laugh so hard thanks to chewku and I started reading some of your others AUs. Can I ask you if you'd like to continue a bit the Gray Apprentice AU? The one with Obi-Wan both a sith and a jedi? Pretty please? I would love to see hin and Maul bicker for everything but then they form a brotherly bond and Maul gets adopted by Lord Zannah.

Okay, thank you SO much for reminding me that this AU exists because I love it very dearly (to the point where at one point I was starting to write full-on scenes and stashing them in a word doc for later). You can ABSOLUTELY have a bit of the Grey Apprentice AU

Obi-Wan, unlike his master, isn't really one for sticking his nose where it doesn't belong. During tenure as Qui-Gon's apprentice, he's had a firsthand view of what results from judicious snooping, which is mostly messes that he’s had to help clean up, and that has never endeared him towards the practice, but this is different. This is more than justified. After all, it’s not often that one gets to look at a rival Sith’s ship, especially when that rival Sith is trussed up in the hold like a Takodana chicken on a festival day.

Unfortunately, Maul’s ship is disappointing. Obi-Wan has long done away with his notions of Sith caves and fortresses dripping with filth and darkness, but he’d at least been expecting something more interesting than a closet full of black tunics and half a burrito wrapped up in the fridge. There should at least be some weapons— a few poisons, maybe, or a cursed pike if he’s lucky; Sith tend towards backups, and that extends to weapons as well as plans.

He frowns, looking around the hallway. He’s checked all the places he would hide things— inside the engine’s wiring, behind a second fake panel that is itself behind a wall panel, and even in the vents (though those are fairly obvious, and therefore a last resort)— but he hasn’t found anything. Obi-Wan reaches out with his senses, calling for the Dark in the hopes that the Sith-blessed weapons will call back, but there isn’t any response; the entire ship is peaceful, almost blank.

Obi-Wan slaps a hand to his forehead, swearing. He’s been looking at this as though Maul is a fallen Jedi. Of course he’s not going to bother hiding the weapons carefully, he’s just going to mask them with the Force. Instead of looking for where they are, Obi-Wan should be looking for where they aren’t.

He reaches out with the Force again, and finds several deeply suspicious blank spots. Obi-Wan grins. Perfect.

Which is, of course, the moment Maul has to wake up and start making noise. Obi-Wan sighs. That’s the trouble with kidnapping people. They never let you look over their things in peace.

By the time he gets to the hold, Maul is screaming (presumably with rage, though the bindings, physical and Force-created, are keeping him from moving even his face). It’s a rather funny scene— it’s always amusing to watch someone used to having power suddenly have access to none of it. It’s the panic, really, sort of like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow. “Hello there.”

Maul, predictably, screams.

“You know you’re just going to damage your vocal chords if you keep at that,” Obi-Wan says, undoing the bindings on Maul’s face, mouth and lips included. “Can we have a civil conversation now?”

“I will defeat you, Jedi,” Maul hisses, eyes blazing with fury. “You will know the pain of my saber as your flesh is rent apart.”

“Haven’t we already been through this?” Obi-Wan sighs. “I defeated you on Tatooine. You can’t seriously be expecting a do-over.”

“I will tear you limb from limb. I will break every bone in your body, and feed the splinters into your muscle. I will pierce your skin with one thousand needles, crush your brain inside your skull. I will—”

Obi-Wan gives him a flat look. “You’ll do nothing until I undo your bindings, which isn’t going to happen if you keep up with that.”

“My master will come for me.” Maul’s eyes are filled with such fervor that Obi-Wan almost feels bad for him.

“Maul,” Obi-Wan says, looking at him with a sincerity he hopes displays how utterly stupid he thinks it is that they have to have this conversation, “do you really think your master cares if you live or die?”

“I will tear your beating heart from your chest, rip your spine through your back—”

“Yes, yes,” Obi-Wan says, “we’ve been through this. I’m sure you know many ways to kill me gruesomely.” He huffs. “I mean, fuck’s sake, he’s already grooming a new apprentice. He won’t be finished cooking for another year or two, but you’ve not got more than a couple months before your replacement waltzes in and kills you.”

“I have no replacement,” Maul growls.

Obi-Wan wants to feel cheered that Maul has stopped issuing death threats, but the murderous intent gathering around the other man is somewhat dampening his triumph. “Yes, you do.”

Maul opens his mouth, but before he can argue, Obi-Wan continues.

“He’s been laying a trail, you know. Your killing my master was supposed to be the final straw for him to finally immerse himself in the darkness. Of course,” Obi-Wan adds, not very contrite, nor inclined to fake it, “he was then supposed to track you down in a little while, and kill you— for the light, of course. All that would be left then is the sacrifice.”

“You lie,” Maul spits.

“No,” Obi-Wan says, exasperated, “I don’t, and I know you know that because I can feel you listening to the Force to check. Sidious is going to do away with you, sooner rather than later, and you’re not prepared to face him.”

Maul’s eyes widen, the implications finally settling in.

“Work with me,” Obi-Wan offers. “Help me kill him before he can get rid of you.”

“This is a trick— you want me to give away my secrets, to betray my master, to turn us against each other to take us down.”

“Well, yes, that was the general idea.”

Maul’s expression doesn’t change, suspicion still clouding his features beyond all else.

“I’m offering you the chance to save your life,” Obi-Wan adds, gentler.

“Very well.” Maul grits his teeth. “But know this, Jedi, after we have disposed of him, I will come for you and your master, and I will make you watch as I kill him.

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes, disgusted. “Banites.”

#fun fact!#this is the tumblr au that's most likely to get turned into a fic by me #I did have most of it plotted at one point but I forgot to write it down #still—#fun premise #easy-yet-satisfying romance #lots of quips #and approximately half a complex theme #it's the polar opposite of what I'm working on right now and it'd be a really fun next big project #we'll see #grey apprentice au #willow's aus #star wars #star wars au #sith au #sith!obi wan #darth maul #asks #sarcasticamaleont

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coffintownkids · 3 years ago

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I have so much to say about Ch.40. Everything about it is epic, including the length. The chapter is almost 11,000 characters long! Keep in mind, most chapters in the book are around 5-8,000.

There's way too much to contain in any one post, so I'll start out with how much I enjoy how openly and delightfully antagonistic AQ and XY are to each other all the time. Also hilarious is that XY rolls his eyes all the time. I think I've counted 5 or 6 different instances! He's so petty and childish :D

Here's some examples of the two of them sniping at each other:

Listening as Ā-Qìng squawked away as she always did to coax Xiǎo Xīngchén into telling her a story, he lost his patience, “Quit carrying on. Keep it up and I’ll tie your tongue in a knot.”

Ā-Qìng simply didn’t listen to him and demanded, “Dàozháng, I wanna hear a story!”

Later on, when XXC is referring to SL without naming him, XY of course keeps needling him about it.

Although Ā-Qìng didn’t understand the situation, she seemed to pick up on it. She scarcely was breathing as she silently cut a look over to Xuē Yáng. There was a faint itch down in the roots of her teeth, as if she couldn’t wait to bite him.

This chapter is, of course, when SL returns and then meets his untimely end :( That in itself deserves its own post, but AQ's reaction afterwards...

She sobbingly said, “I have to go back. Dear spirit of the departed, please bless me so that I can save Xiǎo Xīngchén-dàozháng no matter what. Bless us so that we can escape from that demon’s clutches. Never let that living monster Xuē Yáng have a decent death, tear his corpse into ten thousand pieces, and never let him reincarnate for the rest of eternity!”

That curse is metal as fuck. Get'em, girl!

She goes back and XY is instantly suspicious of her crying face. AQ goes on to put on an Oscar-worthy performance.

Suddenly, Ā-Qìng dropped her pole and started wailing. She was sniffling back tears as she cried, not able to catch her breath, and threw herself into Xiǎo Xīngchén’s arms, “Uh—uh—uh—am I ugly? Am I really ugly? Dàozháng, tell me. Am I really, truly ugly?”

Xiǎo Xīngchén stroked her head and said, “Where? You’re so beautiful. Who said you were ugly?”

Xuē Yáng regarded them with disdain, “Drop dead ugly. You’re even uglier when you’re crying.”

So petty! I think he's more jealous that she's hugging XXC more than anything else. After they get through one terribly nerve-wracking dinner, this happens.

After eating, Xiǎo Xīngchén tidied up the dishes and took them away. Ā-Qìng was too restless to sit there and wanted to slip out after him, but Xuē Yáng suddenly called out to her, “Ā-Qìng.”

Ā-Qìng’s heart abruptly skipped a beat and Wèi Wúxiàn felt every hair on her head stand on end.

She said, “What are you suddenly calling me by my name for!”

Xuē Yáng said, “Didn’t you yourself tell me you hate it when I call you ‘blind kid’?”

Ā-Qìng groaned, “Anyone that starts acting that nice all of a sudden is up to no good! What do you actually want?”

Xuē Yáng grinned, “Nothing. I’ll just teach you what to do next time someone makes fun of you.”

Ā-Qìng said, “Ah, tell me. What should I do?”

Xuē Yáng said, “Whoever called you ugly, you should then make her uglier and cut up her face seventeen or eighteen times with a knife. Make her so that she wouldn’t dare show her face to anyone for the rest of her life. Whoever made fun of you for being blind, you should sharpen the end of your bamboo pole and then poke both her eyes out. Make her become blind too. Do you think she’d still dare to run her mouth?”

Ā-Qìng’s blood ran cold, so she just pretended to believe that he was bluffing, “You’re messing with me again!”

Xuē Yáng hummed, “I’m just messing with you.” After he said it, he pushed the plate with the rabbit apples towards her, “Eat.”

Looking at the plate full of round cuteness, the rabbit apples with their red skin and golden flesh, a cold chill spread through Ā-Qìng and Wèi Wúxiàn’s mind.

XY sure is creative when it comes to threats and torture. The apples were, in fact, just apples though and not poisoned. Which makes me wonder...He was carving those before AQ ever got back and he had no idea she was around when he fought SL, so he wouldn't need to try and entice her. He apparently just carves apples into cute shapes for his own enjoyment. I enjoy that about him.

#mdzs #ctk reads mdzs #mdzs translation #my translation #xue yang #a qing #yi city #i get way too much enjoyment out of how much they hate each other

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sunjaesol · 4 years ago

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i’m getting old, it makes me reckless

canon compliant juke | angst | title: when we were young // adele

The band ended their last song in a clash of instruments and vocals, roaring above the audience yelling the lyrics right back. It was the biggest venue yet, the arena stretching far and wide and holding more people than Julie could imagine. Her throat was aching, but it was all worth it. Every note savoured. Every lyric tasted till it staled on her tongue.

It was the gig before she left for college, leaving a whole lot more behind than this arena with the thousands of adoring strangers.

All four were drenched in sweat. Alex, with his hands red from an insanely elaborate three minute drum solo. Luke, with his callouses aching and slick, barely holding on to the strings. Reggie, no longer wearing his leather jacket and hair come undone. Julie, glitter on her cheeks mixed with the sweat and hair like a raging lion. They looked and felt maniacal. They played the concert of the year. The absolute euphoria they experienced wouldn’t be gone for a while, though her blush would quickly fade.

Now, she could still pretend Luke and her were still together. Now, even Alex and Reggie were kept in the dark from their long dreaded decision. Now, the idea that she stood on stage with the loves of her life was enough for a satisfied smile to bloom on her lips.

“Thank you!”, she bellowed into the mic. The audience didn’t stop. Screaming, whistling, asking for more. Encore, encore, encore! They were all out of songs though, having played their anthem again when they asked for it the first time. Covers seemed like a lackluster ending to the night, the band members shooting each other doubtful looks. The finality of it all ached her.

Luke’s gaze caught hers; troubled, unable to keep the sorrow at bay. Had this been any other concert, she would’ve kissed him backstage and remind him that feeling empty after giving it his all was normal. That she felt that too. She wouldn’t do that though. And she also had an inkling his expression wasn’t about that.

Words pushed themselves out of her throat before she thought about it. “I have something. It’s a cover though. Do you guys like covers?”

Another salvo of applause and shrieks, a sea of phones getting whipped out to capture every move. Reggie approached her with a slight frown.

“What’re you thinking, Julie?”

She moved away from the mic. “Is it alright if I do a solo cover?”

His casual nod caused nerves to coil in her stomach, only now realising what she did. What she was about to do to herself. The bassist made a sign at the boys to get off stage, Luke’s fingers ghosting her back (not entirely, never entirely, she has never truly felt the atoms of his hands touch her) and following the boys into the wings.

Curiosity buzzed around the concert hall, Julie making her way to the grand piano on the left of the stage and attaching her mic in the designated stand. When she looked into void, it instantly quieted down. Her timid voice was like a sharp thread slicing the air.

“This next song, uh…” Swallowing back the feeling of loss that simmered right beneath her skin, she took a deep breath. A needle could drop, so silent everyone heard her pained intake. “I’ve taught it myself a while ago. It’s quite melancholic, but I’ve always been a bit like that, I guess.”

Her feet found the pedals, fingers the well-loved keys. The lights were hot on her skin, yet a certain person’s stare felt more fiery than anything else.

Julie took another steadier breath. “Thank you once more for a beautiful night, LA. This is ‘When We Were Young’.”

The beginning notes caused another uproar from people recognising the song, lighters and phone flashlights flickering up one by one like stars. She sunk into the notes, let her hands find the familiar path as all she could think about was Luke. Every word would be laced with the memory of him.

He wasn’t gone, but he might as well had stolen her heart and vanished into the night with it.

With her eyes shut, the first lyrics uttered melodically from her lips.

Everybody loves the things you do From the way you talk, to the way you move

(A fifteen year old Julie watched as the crowd ate up Luke’s guitar solo, the riff an electrifying ensemble of unique sounds that shouldn’t work but somehow did. He played it for them, but his torso was twisted her way, like his body couldn’t decide who he preferred. Back then, Julie presumed it was the crowd, obviously. Music was everything for Luke. Music and nothing more. Sure, that included her and the boys, but she had accepted quickly on she’d never claim that top spot in his heart. And she was fine with that. It hurt a little, except then she’d remind herself of her own love for music and what a gift it was playing in a band like theirs. To be the name people sought out online.

Luke shot some winks to the first row, dropping to his knees to get him even closer to the fans. Alex caught her eye when she turned around, rolling his good-naturedly. Luke being Luke, it meant.

“It doesn’t inflate your ego, does it?”, she teased hours later, slumped on opposite sides of the couch.

He scoffed, a smile edging his lips. “Are you jealous?”

“It is-” she pulled herself upright, brown peering into the curious green. “-merely an observation.”

“An observation.” He mimicked her, all of a sudden not so far away. Their legs were brushing and if she leaned in, she could kiss him. His head tilted, never one to stop teasing. “Right.”

The high of a good performance made her say it. “Do you want me to be?”

When he kissed her, she expected his lips to be cold. Ghost-cold. Instead, they were warm and soft, like in her dreams, and he smiled when she kissed him back - also like in her dreams. It had been short, the way his nose brushed hers a promise for more.)

Everybody here is watching you 'Cause you feel like home, you're like a dream come true

(They quickly found an escape from the hysteria in Griffith Park. It was closeby Julie’s house and its sweeping nature left enough places for Julie and Luke to hide and be with each other without disturbances. It was a bit unorthodox for a teenage couple to burrow themselves in the forest, but she supposed she threw normality out the window the moment she decided she wanted to date a ghost.

Luke sighed, body dropping on the soft grass and pulling her with him. His beanie fell off, a pleased smile quirking on her lips as she raked a hand through his locks. It was always a cause for celebration whenever he got rid of the hat, the impending doom of baldness something she’d warn him about had he still been alive. Julie pushed the thought back. She couldn’t think that way. A finger curled around a soft strand of hair.

His nose pressed in her cheek, coaxing her closer until she snugly fit in the curve of his body. Lips moved against her skin. “Can I keep you here? Screw homework.”

Julie chuckled. Her meandering hand sloped to his chest, circling the soft fabric of his sweater. “Unfortunately, calculus and I have a date tonight.”

“You’re seeing someone else?”, he gasped. “Julie!”

“I know.” His laugh reverberated, the sound melting into her skin as she pushed herself impossibly close. Adding, her voice was muffled: “Very sneaky of me.”

Luke’s arms fully wrapped around her, humming contently at their new position of having her half-sprawled on top of him. If it wasn’t for the slight flush on his cheeks, she’d think he completely cool about this. It made her smile. He may act all tough sometimes, but he was just as new to this as she was.

She tapped against the red. “The macho is gone.”

He rolled his eyes, though it held a glimmer of fondness. It was for her, she giddily remembered. The way he faltered in quiet awe, soft and timid, was for her. Reaching to kiss him, the blaring declaration that he was home rang in her head.

She didn’t tell him that. Ever.)

But if by chance you're here alone Can I have a moment before I go? 'Cause I've been by myself all night long Hoping you're someone I used to know

(“Sixteen,” he bellowed. “Is there a song about being sixteen?!”

She laughed. “Ellie Goulding has one, I think. You wanna sing me a song about being sixteen-”

“Cause you are sixteen!” He hoisted himself on the grand piano, grinning at her from across the studio. She tried as best as she could to match it.

Birthdays have felt like taboo ever since the boys came into her life. She aged, they didn’t, and eventually they would have to disband. Eventually, everyone would notice how they were frozen in time. Eventually, she and Luke would be too far apart in ages.

Julie has dreaded her birthday since the first time her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him.

Sensing something was off, the frown replaced the grin. “You okay, Jules?”

“Yeah,” she dismissed, waving him off with an air of nonchalance. It was easy for her, something she became an expert in after her mom passed. “Just tired from school.”

He poofed in front of her, hands massaging into her shoulders. She couldn’t look at him. And then she said it anyway.

“Are you okay?”

The unsaid was clear, him stilling as his jaw locked in place. It was then that something cracked between them. Unnoticeable, like a small line in a ceramic cup. They were fine after, but never before had they stamped an expiration date on their relationship. Her simple question changed everything.

He coughed, struggling with the smile. It felt rehearsed. “Course,” he muttered. “I’m good.”)

You look like a movie You sound like a song My God, this reminds me of when we were young

(He breathed into the kiss like she himself gave him life, hot and open-mouthed and tongues caressing to feel more. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, legs straddling his waist in the safety of her bedroom. He left no space between them. Flush together, fingers pressing into her back, breaths and grins mingling when they parted for air. How she got him breathless, she wouldn’t ask. The fact that he did, was enough for her. He never felt like a ghost to her. Not before they started dating and certainly not now.

Each kiss was like music to her ears. Each touch alighting her skin with sparks of affection and need.

“God, I love you,” he whispered.

Her dazzling smile stretched against his jaw, halting in place. She giggled. “You love me?”

Their eyes met, his hooded from passion as he slowly tracked her face. “It’s not obvious?”

“It is.” A tender kiss brushed his lips, thumbs swiping his cheekbones with that boundless devotion she never wanted to let go of. It was the most blissful feeling in the world.

Julie uttered it right back. “I love you too.”)

Her voice exploded into an anguished belt, head rolling back as the lyrics flew into the sky. If she hit her notes, if she was making any sense, if the audience was worried - it didn’t matter. Julie needed this. This was her goodbye.

Let me photograph you in this light In case it is the last time that we might Be exactly like we were before we realised We were sad of getting old, it made us restless It was just like a movie It was just like a song

(Julie jumped on top of him in a sneak attack. Armed with her Polaroid camera, she swerved out the way from his grabby hands as she took shot after shot. Her laughing boyfriend snatched her by her side, fingers like spider tickling her until she relented with tears in her eyes. Strewn around them were the pictures, still processing.

“What’re you doing?”, he chuckled.

Julie plucked a Polaroid from her mattress and began waving it around. “You look so cute,” was her simple answer. His grin widened at that.

“Only now?”

“I wanted to capture you just like this. When-” When we’re like this, so goddamn happy and in love. “When you look all…” While Julie mimicked his face, Luke planted his hands on the mattress to pull himself up and give her a chaste kiss.

His smirk eradicated her previous thoughts. “Can’t make a silly face after I have sex with my beautiful girlfriend?”

She hummed, all mushy from his actions. “You can. That’s why I’m taking a picture.”

Luke kissed her again, letting that ‘silly face’ run free and craning his neck to watch the picture develop.

He cried when he didn’t appear. Another crack in the cup.)

I was so scared to face my fears Nobody told me that you'd be here

(An outsider looking into the Molina household would think there was funeral going on. An insider would be even more confused, as Julie Molina just got accepted into USC and rather felt like crying for three full days then celebrate with her friends.

It settled then. She’d go to college, like she always wanted, and have her life radically change once more - not like she wanted. The band was solid, she and Luke were solid. College would change everything. Alex assured her that it’d be fine, that minor adjustments wouldn’t ruin them, but Julie had her doubts.)

And I swear you’d moved overseas That's what you said, when you left me

(He hardly looked at her when she turned seventeen. She couldn’t blame him. Her doubts, fears stacking on top of one another at rapid pace, surged to the forefront. They were the same age. Tomorrow, she’d be 364 days closer to eighteen. Closer to being older, to surpassing him, to hitting their expiration date.

His troubled expression resolved a little later. Back to his bouncy, enthusiastic self, he showered her in kisses and dedicated all the songs at their gig in Raven’s Nest to her. The boys even sang her ‘Dancing Queen’ by ABBA, her appropriately dressed in sparkly flared trousers and matching top. Her fears were forgotten then. Later too, when she giggled as he pulled her into a laughing kiss, the glitter of her clothes staining his own.

Luke was so alive in that moment. Sweat brimming his forehead and buzzing with adrenaline and each kiss rougher than the next. He was real, real, real, real, real, real.

The lie brought her temporary comfort.)

Julie repeated the chorus, body trembling from all the memories hitting her at once. Soon, the numbing final strike would bring her ease. For her sake, for his, for the band. The refrain flowed through.

When we were young When we were young When we were young When we were young

(“What about ‘when we were young’?”, Julie proposed, blue pen pressed into her songbook. Luke sat next to her, slouched against the front of the couch as his eyes were fixed on the ceiling, mustering for the muses to gift them genius lyrics.

“When we were young?” He chuckled. “That’s a joke, right?”

She paused, pen clenching between her fingers as her head turned to look at him. “What?”

He caught her tone, straightening his back with a shrug. “Nothing.”

“No, why do you think that was a joke?”

They’ve been on edge ever since her dad bought her all the USC merch the online store offered. The sea of red draped across her room got him upset, once his favourite colour now his biggest enemy. It wasn’t like they were trying to hurt each other, but…

Julie didn’t know what to do anymore. Songwriting was their usual remedy and even that didn’t diffuse the tension. She wished her mom was here, for advice, except would she be able to give proper words of wisdom when a relationship with a ghost was unprecedented?

All she wanted was go back to the start, when flirtatious jabs were thrown around and they danced around each other. To kiss him for the first time again. She wanted to go back and then continue to go back every time they hit this point. To love him in a loop; to not age.

He sighed, scribbling an annotation in the margin. “Do you really want me to answer that, Jules?”

Her lips thinned. “No.”

She taught herself the song she was singing right now that night, after he and the boys went off with Willie to some obscure concert. When she woke up the next day, he apologised for his shitty behaviour. It became harder to let love lead when cracks met them at every corner.)

It's hard to admit that everything just takes me back To when you were there, to when you were there And a part of me keeps holding on just in case it hasn't gone

A choked breath caught the fragile note, barely audible for anyone but her.

‘Cause I still care, do you still care?

(“Jules, you’re going to college in a week. You’re gonna turn eighteen and you’re gonna meet other people and you will not wanna tell them you’re dating a hologram that doesn’t fucking age!”

The raging spiel left him in one breath, face red and tears spilling with each hitting word. His shouts were heavy and tinged with devastation. The studio, once a safe haven, was now a warzone. He’s been sitting on those ugly truths for a while, Julie realised, willing herself to not cry. They had the biggest gig of their lives in a few hours and she couldn’t fuck up her face.

Luke didn’t mean to do it either. Both were hyper-focused the day of a gig. Normally, at least. It was simply a cardboard box too many in her bedroom, another proud comment from Ray, another nostalgic remark from Reggie. The fears stacked up for him as well; she should’ve known he’d explode sooner than later.

Her quivering lip gulped back the nausea edging her throat. She couldn’t breath. “You don’t think I know that? I was just- I just-” A traitorous tear slipped out. “I was hoping we’d have more time. Why did it go so fast?” Why did our expiration date race us to the finish line?

Her boyfriend she loved with all her heart stood right in front of her, yet it felt like they were oceans apart.

Trembling hands slid up her arms to her shoulders, pulling her into a tight hug. Tearless sobs wracked her body, jaw slack in agony as his action was enough confirmation. This is the end, it meant. They have reached their last chapter. He made up his mind and she wasn’t allowed to change it.

If she did, they’d burn the band with them too.

“I’m sorry,” he cried, face wet with tears pressed into her neck. “I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”

Julie gasped for air. “Don’t. Don’t apologise.”

He shook his head, blotched and with a look she never wanted to see again. “If I could change anything, it’s this, Julie. I want to be alive for you so badly - feeling it isn’t enough anymore. You deserve better.”

Furiously blinking, she felt moisture cling to her lashes. “I deserve you,” she warbled. “I love you.”

When he didn’t say it back right away, another tear smeared across her cheek. Her mouth shaped into a please, but he shook his head, shuddering with remorse. “You deserve to be loved out in the open, Julie. Not just in the dark.”

“Please, Luke,” it barely came out, pain squeezing her lungs. “Please. You’re real to me, you’ve always- it was never in the dark.”

He let go of her. The loss of contact made her freeze. His arms hung limp by his sides. Time, for one singular moment, stood still. Her wish came true. Why did it feel like he just disappeared right then and there? Julie bit her lip, waiting for it to happen. It didn’t, but she didn’t dare touching him in case the magic was lost. Luke seemed fearful too, his shivering breaths like knives on her ears. She left before he could say anything else.

Julie wailed and redid her make-up in the backseat of her car until it was time to go.)

The rough vibrato pinched her throat once more, pushing through for the final chorus.

We were sad of getting old, it made us restless Oh, I'm so mad I'm getting old, it makes me reckless

(The year prior, Julie plucked his maroon henley from her bedroom floor as Luke was sound asleep behind her. She shrugged it on and examined herself in the mirror. If she could have it all, she’d wish to never age, to never surpass seventeen and be with Luke forever.

If she could have even more, she’d wish to grow old with him. It was a scary thought to feel so confident about at sixteen, but Julie knew. She just knew. A gut feeling should always be allowed, her mom used to say. This was it.

Julie wished she could do this every day. Stealing his shirt and seeing it fray over time. She wanted stains and holes and fabric thinning from washing it so much. She wanted messy. She wanted real.

Crawling back in his embrace and placing a soft kiss on whatever skin she found that early in the morning, she wished for him to be real until she fell back asleep.)

It was just like a movie It was just like a song When we were young

The last note settled into arena like a heavy blanket, everyone watching with baited breath as the wrecked singer stumbled out of her seat and muttered another thank you. Her shaky smile didn’t waver while the deafening applause washed over her. It was when she reached the wings and noted the horrified looks of Reggie and Alex, that she realised Luke wasn’t with them.

“He just…” Alex’ foot swiped across the floor where Luke once stood, aghast. “He crossed over.”

They were always selfish loving one another. To fall, to love, to be in love. The inevitable never stopped being inevitable, and yet they trucked on. Maybe they had become cocky, thinking their hearts were stronger that they actually were. It was all too apparent now. Her heart wasn’t this spiritual thing. It wasn’t made of fairy dust and magical ghost powers. It was made of flesh and blood and it was bleeding.

Luke’s never would.

The arena lights dimmed.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

@blush-and-books @willexx @bluefirewrites @ourstarscollided @sophiphi

#i'm sorry #juke #julie and the phantoms #jatp fanfiction #otp: i think we make each other better

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itscalledreadingdarling · 4 years ago

Text

You Weren’t Supposed To Get Hurt - Newt Imagine

Lines indicate time passes, enjoy :)

*Differs from both movies and books

Someone was bound to get hurt.

It was inevitable, really.

I just didn’t think it was going to be me.

I was untouchable, said the gladers. Throughout my 6 months I spent in the glade no one nor anything seemed to injure me.

When we escaped, people died. I was one of the lucky ones who made it out.

When we broke out into the scorch, I was never once bruised, scratched or otherwise.

When our position with the right arm was revealed and chaos broke out, I joined the fight, bullets flying left and right.

Still, nothing ever touched me.

Not when WCKD took loads of immunes, including Minho.

Not when we attempted to rescue him.

Not when the giant wall that separated WCKD and thousands of people started openly shooting.

Utterly untouchable.

It used to be a joke amongst the gladers.

There was no time for joking anymore.

Now, it became a gift. A strategy.

It would all come down to me.

In my hand was the one most important thing, a blue vial.

The serum.

The cure.

The only thing that determined whether Newt would live, or die.

I had to get it to him.

My lungs burned and my legs ached and still, I kept running.

I wasn’t used to it, running so much.

I was a cook in the glade, along with Frypan.

Now it seemed that I was running every day.

This time though, I didn’t think about it.

Instead, I thought about Newt.

The way he always managed to make me laugh, even in the times where laughing seemed unreachable.

The kindness behind every action, just wanting to keep his friends safe.

Always trying to make it to a place where we would be safe, fighting until there was no more fight.

Shit.

I couldn’t lose him.

I ran faster.

——

Newt was teetering on the edge of sanity when I finally reached where we agreed to meet up.

His humanity was almost gone.

The flare was him and he was the flare.

He was fighting Thomas .

There were only brief moments when he would realize what he was doing, and pause, begging for Thomas to kill him.

He wanted it to be over.

He didn’t want to become one of them.

A crank.

“Please Tommy, please. Please.”

I could feel tears spilling down my cheeks at the scene before me, but I didn’t let them deter me, still running, screaming at Thomas that I had it, I had the cure.

Thomas’s eyes flicked to me, unfortunately at the wrong time, as Newt took the chance to lunge at Thomas while he was momentarily distracted.

He was able to successfully pin him to the ground, Thomas stuck underneath him.

Newt had a knife, and was pressing it down towards Thomas’s chest, while Thomas was struggling to keep it from penetrating him.

I was quick, sliding to my knees, and pulling up Newt’s sleeve, which was proving to be difficult.

It took a few seconds, but I thankfully was able to get it up, a sick taste entering my mouth at the sight of the snaky black veins that crawled up Newt’s skin.

It was then that Newt noticed me.

I was surprised he hadn’t before, I wasn’t trying to be stealthy in any manor. I was prepared for a fight.

But I was so close, all I had to do was plunge the syringe into his arm, and all would be fixed.

It all happened so fast that I wasn’t aware of it.

I stuck the needle into his arm, and pushed down the top, the serum slowly draining from the tube and into Newts bloodstream.

I looked up, just in time to see the darkness fade from his eyes and a haunting look of horror flicker on his face before he slumped to the side, Thomas and I lunging to grab him before he slammed his head on the concrete floor.

Out of pure adrenaline, or perhaps hysteria, I laughed.

It hurt to laugh but I couldn’t stop.

There was to much adrenaline in my body that it felt unnatural.

I heard Thomas say my name, quietly. Scared.

I looked up at him with a bright smile. I expected him to look happy, we had just saved Newt.

But rather he looked at me, pain and fear freezing his features.

“What?” I chuckled.

He simply pointed to my stomach.

I looked down and like a button was pressed, my laughter cut off.

Blood.

Seeping.

Red.

To much of it.

I looked back up to Thomas, pain flooding in. It was strange, how the body worked. I hadn’t felt it until I was focused on it. Until the adrenaline shut off.

His eyes flickered to the knife that lay limply in Newts hand, blood coating the tip.

My blood.

I could see black spots in the corners of my eyes.

I was gonna pass out.

Shit.

“Don’t tell him.” I mumbled.

And then the world went black and the pain faded.

——

I opened my eyes to light.

Bright, blinding light.

A small groan left my lips as I slowly sat up.

What the hell?

I lifted up my shirt - different than the one I wore last time I was conscious - and my fingers hovered over the thick bandage wrapped around my abdomen.

There was a light red, excess blood seeping through the bandages, and there was a dull ache emitting from my stomach, but not as badly as I remembered.

I winced as I stood up from the bed, a sharp pain shooting through my body, and my hand immediately flew to my stomach, holding my arm around myself as if it would barricade the pain.

I could hear laughter outside of the hut, and I took a moment to take in the unfamiliar surroundings.

The air smelled salty, such a stark contrast from the glade, that smelled of dirt and earth.

I slowly walked out of the hut, trying not to aggravate my injury too much.

When my eyes adjusted to the outside light, I was able to take in everything around me - from the blue of the ocean, to the tan grains of the sand, the giant huts and billowing sheets of white that covered them, and the abundance of people milling about.

A small breath of laughter left me, we had done it. We actually did it. We were safe.

I scanned the crowd until I saw a familiar face.

“Minho!” I called out, and I could see him turn to me, before jogging over with a smile wide on his face.

I guessed that he was aware of my injury, as he hugged me gently from the side, rather that his usual tight squeeze.

“We thought you were dead shank, how you holdin up?” He gestured to my bandages, hidden by my shirt.

“I’m doing alright. Hurts a shucking ton though.”

He let out a small chuckle, and called out for Thomas and a couple other of the gladers, each greeting me like Minho did.

It seemed all of them knew about my injury, hugging me with care, some looking concerned.

“Hey, where’s Newt?” I questioned.

“Oh, he’s over by the crops, helping Vince or something like that.” Minho replied, pointing to a group of people further away from the groups of shelters.

“Thanks.” I said, making my way over to the gardens in the distance.

I really hoped the serum had worked. It sounded like it had.

If Minho wasn’t worried then Newt should be fine.

I spotted him quickly, his blonde hair glowing in the sunlight, and his skin perfectly free of any black veins.

“Newt!” I called out, waving my hand at him.

He immediately dropped whatever was in his hands, and jogged towards toward me.

Newt was quick to wrap me in an embrace, holding me tightly.

So Thomas did hear my request.

Don’t tell him.

Don’t tell Newt that I’m injured.

Don’t tell Newt that he was the one who injured me.

It seemed Thomas had understood what I was asking, and complied.

For that I was thankful.

The rule back in the glade was never to hurt another glader on purpose.

I don’t know what Newt would do if he found out he had hurt me.

Found out that I was hurt.

I was supposed to be untouchable after all.

I never questioned his intense protectiveness over me - it made me feel loved, and safe.

He was never overbearing about it, knowing I could handle myself, but that’s just who he was. Always wanting to protect and save everyone. I would break him to know he failed his moral.

So I should’ve been prepared for a full on hug, but I wasn’t.

It was to late to hide my yelp of pain, a tight wince on my face as pain racked through my abdomen.

“Woah, are you okay?”

His face wore concern, but I decided to brush it off.

“I’m fine.”

Yet my arm still circled my stomach, clutching the thick bandages.

“You’re obviously not.”

“I’m fine, really Newt.”

I looked at him and he looked at me. He knew I was lying.

I didn’t have any excuse so instead I came up with the best idea I could.

I walked away.

I had expected him to follow me, but when I looked back, he stood there with a dejected look on his face.

This was not the reunion I wanted.

——

A huge bonfire was lit in the middle of the beach.

There was music, and dancing, and laughter.

I was sitting with some Group B girls who had approached me, laughing lightly with them.

It was nice to have some girl company for once.

“Woah, what’s happening over there?” Asked one of the girls, gesturing to the left of where we sat together.

My gaze flipped over to where she was directing her comment at.

It was Newt, looking angry at a flustered Thomas.

I looked at the girls and shrugged. “I’ll go check it out.”

They let me go with the promise to bring them back all the tea, and I agreed with a chuckle.

Newt was close to yelling, as once I got a bit closer I could hear each word loud and clear.

“What do you mean she was bloody injured?”

My step paused, and I glanced at Thomas, who had noticed my presence and looked sheepish. ‘Sorry,’ he mouthed.

I saw Newts head swivel my way, looking at me with disbelief.

“Why the hell would you keep something like that from me?”

I didn’t answer, looking at him with silence, so he asked another question.

“What happened?”

At that, I lowered my eyes, and became very interested at a particular grain of sand just at the toe of my right shoe.

Newt was always good at connecting the dots.

“I.... I didn’t do that did I?”

His voice was soft, so that I could barely hear it over the chatter and crackling of the fire. The pain was evident in his voice, and I knew there ways no trying to lie my way out of this one.

“You were half delusional with the flare-“ I began to reason, but he had already stalked off. “Shit.”

I looked at Thomas who still looked sorry for spilling the secret, and Minho who was now whistling and looking anywhere but me.

I almost wanted to laugh at the situation, for believing that I could actually get away with the whole thing.

Instead I stalked off in the direction he went, ideas to try and make him understand that he shouldn’t feel like it was his fault running trough my mind.

I didn’t know how long I had been walking for to find Newt, and looking back, the bonfire was only a speck in the distance.

Here, it was just the stars and the waning moon lighting the cold beach sand.

I had taken my shoes off halfway through the walk, enjoying the tickle and peacefulness of being barefoot on a beach.

It wasn’t hard to find Newt, there was a trail of footsteps leading up to where he sat, off in the distance, and my injury made it hard for me to move at a faster pace, so I continued my slow treck - enjoying the moment alone while breathing in the salty air.

It felt wonderful.

Safe.

It was a rare feeling to come by in a predicament such as ours but we had done it.

And when I finally reached him, I laid down in silence, looking up at the stars.

It was silent for awhile before he began to talk.

“I had nightmares; when we first arrived and I was fully healed. Most of them consisted of you. You being tortured, you being dead. I remember there was one where you were screaming and I couldn’t get to you. It was like I was stuck. They’re all bloody terrible but the worst one was when I was a crank, fighting Tommy. You were trying to help me, give me the cure but - the flare - it consumes you. I didn’t know what I was doing. But I remember so distinctly taking my knife and running it across your stomach, deep... it always ended there.”

He pauses briefly, taking a shaky breath.

“I always thought they were just nightmares. I guess that last one was actually a memory.”

He was staring out into the distance, at the dark ocean.

I stayed silent.

“Can I see it?” He questioned quietly.

I sucked in a breath of my own, but nodded, knowing that he needed to see it for himself.

I sat up slowly, and lifted the bottom of my shirt, giving him access to where my bandage was tied up at the back.

I looked down and saw a noticeable difference from when I checked it earlier. The light red has blossomed into a darker one, coving almost the whole front of the bandage.

I hadn’t even seen it myself, and I wasn’t sure I wanted too.

I closed my eyes as Newt carefully unwrapped my bandage, until I could feel the sting of cold air hit the injury.

“Fuck.”

His reaction was enough to get me to look down and I could feel a bad taste in my mouth again.

Although stitched up, there was still blood oozing and so much red.

I looked up and closed my eyes again.

I had never done well with blood, always making Frypan cook the freshly cut meat, and turning down a part time medjack job after helping Frypan with a small burn he had recived from cooking said meat.

“I’m so bloody sorry love.”

I looked at him, tears in his eyes and his hand shaky, hovering just above the cut.

“Hey, Newt, it’s okay.”

“No it shucking isn’t.”

He sounded angry, force behind his words but it was only a short burst, his voice turning sad again as he cursed more.

His fingers trembled slightly as he carefully wrapped the bandage back up, asking if he needed to make it more loose or tighter.

Chills ran up and down my body when I felt his fingers brush my bare skin, and was disheartened when he finished.

I hadn’t talked much during the whole ordeal, not knowing what to say, and afraid to voice the wrong thing.

Mostly, I just wanted him to stop blaming himself, like I knew he was.

“I should’ve done something to stop it, I should’ve-“

“Nope, we aren’t doing this. Stop it.” I said firmly.

“No, it’s my fault, I should’ve just fought I harder, if I could’ve-“

And because I couldn’t think of any other way to get him to stop talking, I grabbed his chin, and pulled him down to me, gently colliding his lips with mine.

It was moments of pure bliss, before I pulled away and looked into his searching eyes.

“I told you to shut up.”

And it was like all traces of our previous conversation had dissolved when he mumbled, “Tell me again,” moving his hand so it was cupping my right check, and bringing our lips together once more.

It was soft, but I could still feel his anger and sadness and I pressed my lips harder to his.

When we broke apart, he rested his forehead against mine, both of us breathing harder than normal.

“You weren’t supposed to get hurt.” He said.

“I would’ve done it again. You’re alive Newt. That matters more than a cut.”

He just hummed a response, though I couldn’t translate what he meant by it.

“Wanna go back?” He asked.

“No.” I simply said.

So we sat side by side, watching the waves crash against the beach.

Simple.

Beautiful.

Peaceful.

Safe.

Together.

#the maze runner #tmr #tmr newt #the death cure #tdc #newt imagine

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