#so i opened up my doc and realized i need to finish what i have...these all exist in some unfinished state
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guys i need help to choose which text post meme to finish next, please help me decide 😭😭💖💖
#after a long hiatus i'm FINALLY bringing them back#i missed making them so much#i got stuck over the summer and then lost inspiration and got overwhelmed with my long list#so i opened up my doc and realized i need to finish what i have...these all exist in some unfinished state#thanks in advance if you did vote!!#tumblr polls
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baby?
pairing (s): quinn hughes x fem!reader
warning(s): angst (sorta) fluff sweet Quinn, reader and Quinn are both scared but its sweet.
summary: yn unexpectedly finds out her and Quinn are having a baby.
wc: 1.1k
an: hi loves! I hope you all are doing well!!! I had this fic unfinished in a doc for a while so I decided to sit down and finish it today. I would just like to say that I need Quinn to be a father, like dad Quinn would literally save my life omg. I think I plan on working on either jack fic today or the Instagram au.. maybe both tbh. anywaysssss! much love as always <3
Yns hands shook as she watched the timer on her phone slowly wine down. Everything feels like a dream as she stares at The three tests that lay in front of her on the bathroom counter. This doesn't feel real, it can’t be real.
Her and Quinn had always been safe, she was on birth control, which she took regularly. Well at least she thought she did, until she had the sudden realization that her period was over a week and a half late, she knew something was up.
So she's here now, staring at 3 tests that can ultimately change their lives forever. She didn't even know what she'd do if she was, what would Quinn even do? Would he leave her? Would he say that her baby trapped him? Oh gosh, what would his family think? What would her parents think? Her mind runs through every possible scenario, as time ticks down.
The sound of the alarm snaps her out of a spirling, almost nightmaric daydream. Her hands shake as she reaches out to grab the test in front of her. There isn't any amount of deep breaths she can take, before turning over the test. Yn stares at the two lines like a deer in headlights. She can feel her whole life flash in front of her, this can't be happening to her, it has to be a dream she thinks to herself. Leaning against the counter, in attempts to try and calm her racing heart and shaky hands.
Raising her head to look in the mirror, it hits her. She's pregnant, she's having a baby, Quinn's baby. Moving her hands to rest against her stomach, she begins to sob. She can't tell if she's crying tears of joy or tears of fear of what can happen next.
Not sure what to do next, yn stands in the bathroom in temptes to calm herself down. taking deep shallow breaths, trying somehow, someway to control the tears running down her face. After her attempts to calm down, the first thing on her mind is what does she tell quinn? How would she even bring it up, how he would be mad and leave her? Her mind starts spirling again, sobs that she tried to choke down, are now coming up and this time she cant help but let herself cry.
As if the situation couldn't get any worse at this moment, she hears the front door open and shut. Yn’s eyes open in shock. moving to look at the time on her phone, seeing a text from Quinn saying he'd be on his way home 45 minutes ago. She wasn't ready to tell him, she didn't even know what was going on, how could she explain this to someone else?
“Baby? Are you home?” Quinn yells out from downstairs?
“Ye-yes! Im here” she yells back, her voice breaking from crying
Yn can hear his footsteps moving upstairs to their room, where yn is standing in the connected bathroom. Her hands began to shake as she tried to quickly find the boxes and positive tests.
“You won't believe what happened at practice today” he begins, dropping his bag by the bedroom door before he starts making his way to the bathroom.
“So petey an i are running drills and tell me how this fucker trips me and i-” quinn suddenly stops talking. His wide eyes locked with yours as they stared at each other. His eyes slowly move to the test laying on the counter that you have your hand over.
“Yn. what's going on”
‘I-quinn” you whisper out, tears again prickling against your waterline
“Move your hand” he says softly
You take a shaking breath before pulling your hand away from the positive test. Quinn quickly moved to grab the test, pulling it to his face to look at it. It's like you see the gears in his head turning as he stares at it. Time feels like it's moving in slow motion as you wait for any type of response from him.
He sets the test back gently on the counter, before turning to lean his back against the counter, running his hands over and down his face. And for the first time in what feels like eternity you hear him finally let out a sigh. You are not sure if it's good or bad, but you're leaning more towards bad as she stares at his rigid body leaning against the counter.
His no response almost seems like a response to you, you're not sure what to do. the struggle to keep your cries down is failing by the second. failing completely as you open your mouth to speak but if your voice is cut off before you even get the chance to utter a word when it's ripped away by a sob. The sound of your crying seems to snap Quinn out of whatever he was going through beside you, his head moving from his hands, his eyes moving to look at your face, but you can't let him, he can't see you like this.
“Yn” he says soft yet sternly as he takes a few steps to reach you.
“Hey look at me baby” he says, his hands moving to grab your cheeks, pulling your face to look at him.
“Quinn, i'm so sorry” you start,
“Why are you sorry?”
“I know we hadn't planned on having kids, until we were married and this is just your second season as captain. I don't want you to be mad at me. I don't want you to leave me.” your voice breaking at the end of your confession.
“Yn, i would never ever leave you.” he says softly
“This baby..this all is a little sudden but i've wanted you to be the mother of my children for the last 6 years.” he begins. “I want this, of course im scared but i want this with you, there's nothing to be sorry for, i love you.” he finishes
Tears stream down your face as you pull yourself into Quinn, your arms wrapping around his neck, his arms squeezing you tight in your middle.
“I love you so much” you mumble into his neck
“I love you more,” he says, pulling back from the hug, “and I love you too, little baby,” moving his hands to rest on your stomach, with a smile on his face.
#nhl fanfiction#nhl x reader#nhl fic#nhl hockey#quinn hughes x y/n#quinn hughes fic#quinn hughes fluff#qh43#vancover canucks
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you know what I'm thinking about?? beck oliver. yeah the one from victorious first of all FUCK YOU dan schneider and I'm specifically thinking about this clip from the episode where they try to make a reality show about their high school 0:31
I really hate that beck is one of those characters like lucas friar and tristin dugray where we simply do not get more clarity on them as a person. one of the few times we get to see beck really open up and talk about WHY he's so passionate about acting and it's immediately cut off and overshadowed by how he looks. dare I say he has elle woods syndrome. "beck and jade are toxic" "beck should date cat" "beck and robbie fuck" yeah yeah you know what he REALLY NEEDS????? he needs someone that does not give a single fuck about how he looks. he needs someone who prioritizes HIM instead of his hair. yes he's pretty and he has nice hair but those are all sprinkles. he needs somone who cares about the rest of the cupcake, not just the decorations. I think the reason he thinks he likes angry girls who yell and fight with him all the time is because when he and jade fight she's yelling at him about anything other than his hair. he needs a break from constantly being objectified is my point. you know what would be great?? beck dating a screenwriter. someone who works on the scripts for the hollywood arts shows they put on. someone who hunts him down in the halls looking like they rolled out of a dumpster with sikowitz and reeks of coffee because they've been up for 36 hours to meet their deadline and finish their homework.
you are just that. you do other stuff at hollywood arts too, but there's really not a lot of script writers there, so you've found a way to pretty much corner the market and it looks FANTASTIC on your student transcript, plus you get extra credit for it, which is even better. you're wearing a hoodie that looks like you slept in it for two days (true if you had slept at all) and you're not aware of the two or three empty jet brew cups shoved into your hoodie pocket, plus the extra one you're carrying that you're almost done with.
"Beck!"
you manage to startle him a little which is surprising because he is totally unscareable. he doesn't think you've ever exchanged two words before now, he doesn't even know if he knows your name.
"I need to talk to you," you pant, a little delerious from caffeine and sleep depravation and excitement. "I finished the script for the next play-"
Beck didn't realize that a student was writing any of the shows they put on, he thought they were all lisenced or from local writers.
"It's a dystopian retelling of frankenstein with- with cyberpunk influences," you ramble, "and I need to know if you're okay playing the lead." you pant, still trying to catch your breath and not lose your train of thought.
"some pretty fucked up stuff happens and you'd have to quickly lose your morals and go from morally gray to kind of antagonistic pretty quickly..." you look up at him and hand him a script full of sticky flags. "I wanna make sure there's nothing that'll make you too uncomfortable... like I said it gets pretty fucked up, but I wrote it with you in mind for the doctor, so- just, let me know what you think."
before he can answer, you trudge into the janitor's closet and fall asleep on top of a pile of paper towels.
Beck takes the script home to look over, and he's genuinely surprised for a number of reasons. he expected to be typecast as the love interest yet again, but you want him as the antagonistic lead. it's a really complex role, and has absolutley nothing to do with how he looks. you even left a sticky note in there by accident, and he reads your scribbled handwriting. doc MUST be smwn who fully commits and dgaf if it makes them look bad or silly or unattractive. if they get self consious it ruins the char
underneith are two or three names scribbled out, then his, underlined several times. he is so genuinely shocked by this decision, and absolutely fascenated by your script. he's actually getting really excited to play a role that will challenge him for once.
the next day he meets you with the script tucked under one arm and a coffee in each hand. he hands one to you, and you thank him with a pleasantly surprised smile.
"You seem like you could use it."
"That's putting it mildly..." you mutter in agreement, and he bites back a chuckle when you remove the lid and down half the cup at once. You look at him anxiously after that, and your eyes flit between him and your script. "So... what did you think?"
"I... accept." relief floods through you. "I've already been thinking about my character and going over my lines. But why did you want me for Victor?"
You shrug a little.
"Well, you got the script like, 12 hours ago and you're already developing your portrayal of him, so that's a pretty good reason there," you chuckle, "and I... I hope this doesn't sound mean, but I don't think there are a lot of other people here who could pull off such a complex antagonistic main character."
you state, taking another sip of coffee.
"Everyone here is great, really-" you emphasize, hoping you don't sound like a dick. "I just feel like no one else could really bring the depth to him that you could. He's a horrible person, but I still want the audience to sympathize with him at times, and go wow he's a fucked up asshole at others without making it feel disjointed. I think you're really the only one who has the skills to pull that off."
honestly, if Beck had slightly less self control he would have started wailing and sobbing right then. Instead, he's determined to live up to your expectations and prove to you that your faith in him will pay off. You work pretty closley with production of the show, and with Beck. after closing night, you and Beck are still pretty close, to your pleasant surprise. his friends are a little curious why Beck suddenly is spending all his free time with one of those kids in their class who never talks or says anything, but he seems... happy. he did in fact fall first, and he definitely fell harder. he falls even more when months pass and he realizes you are still too adorably oblivious to realize how he feels.
#drabbles#beck oliver#beck oliver x reader#beck oliver drabbles#victorious#victorious x reader#victorious drabbles#LET BECK BE HAPPY#LET HIM BE SEEN#BECK NEEDS TO DATE SOMEONE ON THE ACE SPECTRUM TBH#beck with an ace and or aro s/o who when asked why they like him you're like “I just think he's neat! :)”#you have never once thrown yourself at him and he has never once wanted anyone so bad#your dynamic is literally “wow that sex was poggers lemme go back to explaining the fnaf lore”#and he's like yes#you are the first person to surprise him this much#beck unfortunately is bored and understimulated a lot#he's grateful for all the opportunities he's been given ofc#but deep down he yearns for more#not for materialistic “I wanna be famous” reasons#he just wants to feel something#and good GOD do you check that box several times over
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Just What The Doctor Ordered (A Soshiro Hoshina One Shot)
Y'all know the drill- it's NSFW time.
It's late afternoon and you're typing away at your computer, inputting your latest medical report. You document everything about your last patient, what findings you saw, how you treated the condition, your follow-up instructions for future treatment, the usual.
You're a doctor on base at the Third Division and though usually you see patients either one at a time for their annual check-up's or all at once after a massive battle, at this point in time you have an unusually large gap in your schedule and you plan to make the most of it. You enjoy the peace and quiet because you know that working here, anything could happen at any time and you could be called in the middle of the night if a Kaiju so happened to strike.
You finish your report and lean back in your chair, taking a bite out of an apple you'd rested on top of your desk. You never know when you'll be needed so you make sure to snack when you can to keep your energy up. You stare at the fruit in your hand and laugh to yourself, "Guess an apple a day doesn't scare the doctor away after all." You shrug and start organizing your medical supply cart when suddenly you hear the clinic door open.
You look up to see your favorite patient smirking at you, leaning against the door frame as he clutches his wounded arm. "Soshiro." You say, shaking your head at him, "Didn't I tell you to stop getting hurt?"
He chuckles and pulls himself off of the door frame, sauntering towards you, blood dripping down his skin. "You know I'd do anything to see my favorite doctor."
You knew that was true as you had slowly started noticing he'd become a frequent flyer at the medical clinic, some injuries large, some injuries small. He'd even come in for a papercut once, the cheeky bastard. And he'd always wait for you. There were other doctors and nurses available but even if he was on the verge of death he wouldn't let anyone touch him but you.
You pick up some bandages and something to disinfect his arm. You grab his arm forcefully, leaning in to examine it, to which he grins. "Love it when you man handle me."
You roll your eyes and start cleaning the wound, though the corner of your lips twitch into the beginnings of a smile. He watches as you carefully bandage the cut up. "There- good as new." You say to him, expecting him to flash you that smirk again, maybe press a kiss to your hand, and say "Until next time, doc" as he saunters off down the hallway. But he doesn't do that this time. His eyes remain on you, lips curling into a sly smile.
You raise an eyebrow at him. "Yes, Soshiro? What is it?"
He licks his lips, and leans back on the medical table, propping himself up by his hands resting behind him. His legs spread slightly, revealing a growing bulge in his pants. "Oh you know. I thought we could squeeze in some time for my physical."
You smirk. "Oh really now? And I suppose you'll want me to be extra thorough?"
He winks at you. "Oh baby, I want you to examine every inch of me."
You laugh, amused by his bold attitude today, but the laugh trails off as you realize he's slipped his raging boner out of his pants and wrapped his muscled hand around it.
"And I know exactly which inches you can start with." He whispers, leaning in towards you, his eyes daring yours not to look away as he strokes himself.
Something changes in you. You exhale loudly, the breath a little shaky, as you bite down on your lower lip hard. "Fuck." The sight of him edging himself on, rubbing that thumb of his across his own wet tip, causes a warm sensation to pool in your underwear. You desperately want to know what he tastes like.
He gives you a cocky grin as you get on your knees in front of him but you can tell his heart must be racing as fast as yours because he starts to flush a little at the sight of you positioned like this. In an instant, you close the distance and take his throbbing cock in your mouth. He groans and grips the edge of the medical table tight with one hand, pushing your head in deeper with the other hand. You choke a little and he thinks he might just cum now at the sight of your flushed face, saliva dripping from your mouth as you struggle to take all of his length in. He releases his hand from the back of your head and uses a finger to collect the saliva from your chin, bringing it up to his mouth to taste. He moans into his finger as you suck harder.
You love the taste of him, the way his precum slicks against your tongue, the way his dick gets acquainted with the back of your throat. Still gagging on him hard, you slide your knees apart slightly and slide a hand down in between your legs, slipping your soaked underwear down just slightly so you can finger your dripping pussy. His eyes widen at the sight and he grips the medical table harder, panting "Fucking hell."
For a moment, he just watches as you slide him in and out of your mouth while you touch yourself, his dick hardening itself further against the walls of your throat. Then he can't take it anymore. He balls up your hair in a fist and pulls you off his dripping cock. "That's enough now." He growls. He yanks you to your feet and your panties slip the rest of the way down your legs, crumpling on the floor. Then he gets on his knees and presses hungry kisses to your stomach and your hips before taking the rim of your skirt in his teeth and dragging it down your legs. He licks his lips as he eyes your cunt, bursting at the seams for him. He shoves two fingers deep into his mouth, thoroughly coating them, before he quickly shoves them into you. You yelp as you feel him enter you, his movements desperate and hungry. He savors the feeling of you clenching around him, slicking his fingers with your lust for him, as he pumps them in and out of you, curling his fingers slightly to hit just the right spot. He licks and sucks at your clit as he continues to finger you at a hard but steady pace.
"S-Soshiro." You moan. He pulls his head away from your clit, wanting to see what you look like moaning his name. He groans, not quite expecting the fire it lit in him. You're grasping your breast in one hand, thumb circling your nipple, and your head is thrown back in pleasure. He yanks his fingers out of you quickly, licking them clean as he stands up to face you. He wants that fucking neck of yours, it's like it was made for him the way it's arching like that. He wraps his hand around your throat and pulls you to him, gripping your hip hard with his other hand.
"God, when you fucking say my name." He snarls. Without another word, he's sucking and biting at your neck. The movements wet and messy as though he couldn't care less how he takes you in as long as he gets to devour you. He grinds up against your hips, his cock banging in between your legs as he marks up the length of your neck. He decides he wants to claim your mouth now so after a couple of nips at your jaw he dives into you with his tongue. The kisses are passionate and hungry. His tongue is needy, as though it's been set ablaze and the only thing that can save him is your tongue. He bites down on your lower lip, pulling it back a little with his teeth before releasing. "So fucking perfect." He murmurs as he begins to rub his thumb over the spot where he bit down on your bottom lip.
Then he decides he's had a better idea. He suddenly turns you around and bends you over the medical table. He admires the curve of your ass for a moment, giving it a squeeze, before he plunges his impatient cock into your pussy. You breathing gets heavy and the harsh sounds escaping your pretty lips drives him wild, causing him to thrust into you faster and harder. He digs his fingers into your hip and wraps his other hand around your marked up throat. It's just enough pressure to know he's there, but the sensation sends another moan tumbling out of your lips as more of your pussy dribbles onto his cock.
He smirks as he feels how wet you are. "Such a good fucking girl for me." He growls as he continues pumping into you vigorously.
You whimper and grab at your breast again, riding out the feeling. Then you feel it, a warmth that's started to burn in your core. "Ah fuck Soshiro!" You swear, the words coming out louder than you expected. You clap a hand over your mouth and he smirks again. He yanks the hand from your mouth and pins it roughly behind your back.
"None of that now, darling. I want to hear every filthy little thing that comes out of that pretty mouth of yours."
You groan hearing that and it earns you another sharp thrust. "Soshiro you better not fucking stop, I'm so fucking close goddamnit."
He chuckles darkly. "I wouldn't dream of it. Now be a good girl and soak my cock with your cum, yeah baby?"
You nod emphatically, "Yes baby, fuck yes baby." Your moans get louder as you start to convulse, your walls shuddering around his erection as your orgasm floods out of you. The feeling of the warm liquid dripping down his aching cock as he fucks you harder is enough to send him over the edge as well. With a couple more thrusts, he's soaked you in his cum. He collapses on top of your back, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he groans, riding out the wave of ecstasy.
You pull away from each other finally, leaning on opposite ends of the medical table trying to catch your breath.
Then he smirks at you as he pulls his clothes back on. "Same time tomorrow, doc?"
You roll your eyes and move to grab a towel to clean yourself up.
He's hit with a sudden wave of possessiveness as he realizes you're trying to wipe away the mess he's made in and on you. He knows you need to get cleaned up but somehow he was hoping to see you drenched in him a little longer. He snatches your wrist suddenly, causing you to drop the towel.
"No one's cleaning you up but me." He pushes you down so that your back hits the medical table. Then he starts to lick his cum off of your inner thighs first. His eyes flit upwards to your soaked mound and an involuntary growl rumbles up his throat.
"Yeah forget about tomorrow. We're going for round two now."
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ALL WRAPPED UP — PORTGAS D. ACE
pairing: portgas d. ace x gn! reader content: canon-typical depictions of injury and blood notes: after months of obsession, finally a one piece post
Your eyes drift to the open ocean again, watching the horizon with a hawk-like awareness. You shouldn’t be this distracted, not when you need to be formulating a strategy to propose to Whitebeard and the rest of the Division Commanders.
“You know he’s going to be fine,” Marco reminds you for what feels like the millionth time, giving you that same, knowing look.
You nod back. “Yeah, I do,” you reply but you can hear the tightness in your tone and the voice in your head reminds you that he’s been gone three days longer than expected.
You know that Ace is one of the strongest members of the crew; it’s the reason Whitebeard promoted him so quickly to Division Commander, the reason your captain sends him on solo missions often. It certainly doesn’t hurt that he has the power of the Flame-Flame fruit, but even the strongest of pirates have been beaten — Gol D. Roger being a perfect example.
You see a dot in the distance, which grows bigger as it draws closer. You hope it’s Ace but you put your crewmates on alert, just in case. To your utter relief, you recognize the yellow of Ace’s Striker but the relief is short-lived as he comes into focus. He’s gripping the boat’s mast, cuts and dark bruises marring his tanned skin. You don’t think twice as you jump off the side of the Moby Dick, landing steadily on the bow of the Striker.
Ace shoots you a signature lopsided smile, though it’s a bit pinched. “Don’t think you asked permission to board.”
You sigh and roll your fondly, trying to quell your racing heart as you slip an arm around his shoulders. His own arm drapes across your shoulders as the crew hoists the two of you up. With a cursory glance over him, Marco says, “Let’s get you to the infirmary.”
Ace untangles himself from you as soon as his feet land on the deck. “I’m fine, Doc,” he says. The way he stumbles a little as he tries to right himself and the blood slowly dripping from the deepest laceration at his shoulder doesn’t help his case.
Marco levels him with a stern look and a firm grasp on his uninjured shoulder, both of which make Ace sigh in acquiescence and follow Marco down into the ship. You chew on your lip, about to follow, but Thatch says, “Let Marco work. We’ve got a Division meeting. Check on Ace after.”
You glance one more time at the way the two men left before following Thatch to the captain’s quarters.
You’re hurrying down the steps towards the infirmary as soon as the meeting ends. You’re not even really sure what you all discussed. You can only assume it’s something about swords and cannons and the Marines, and you’ll get Thatch or Izou to catch you up on it later but you have more pressing concerns right now.
You nearly collide with Marco in your rush. “Sorry,” you say breathlessly. “How is he?”
Marco peers down at you through his glasses, half-amused, and answers, “Good. He’s been whining about not seeing you and it’s my duty to keep patients happy. So…” He slides over and you open the door.
Ace is wrapped in gauze and bandages, reclined grumpily in one of the infirmary beds. His face lights up when he sees you and he tries to sit up, wincing when he does. “Don’t get up,” you say, pulling the chair that is next to his bed closer to it. You adjust the pillow and unconsciously reach up to brush a stray strand of hair from his eyes. They follow your motion and when you realize that he’s now staring at your face, you quickly drop your hand.
There are so many questions racing through your head but the first, and most logical, one is: “What happened?”
Ace groans and huffs, “Got ambushed. Thought I was finished collecting intel and let my guard down a little too early.” When he sees you studying the dressing Marco wrapped around him, he nudges you with his elbow. “You should’ve seen the other guy.”
It makes you laugh a little and in turn, Ace’s smile grows wider. “You know,” he says, leaning close. You hold your breath as he puts his face only an inch or two away from yours. “I’ve always heard that a kiss makes everything hurt less.”
He wiggles his eyebrows teasingly, a mischievous glint shining in his dark eyes. You gulp down the knot that has formed in your stomach and your cheeks are on fire. He smells like sea salt and the open sky. You can count every freckle that dots his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Ace’s smile falters when you don’t answer and he jerks back, stumbling over his words. “It’s no pressure or anything! It’s just something I’ve—”
Plucking up all your courage, you shift forward and move quickly so you don’t lose your nerve. Gently, you let your lips brush against the worst of his injuries: the cut in his right shoulder. You draw away swiftly and when you survey his face, you push down the pleasant warmth in your belly at the way his face goes red.
#.𖥔 ݁ ˖ kaiijo writes#one piece x reader#op x reader#portgas d. ace x reader#portgas d ace x reader#ace x reader#portgas ace x reader#one piece fic#one piece imagines#one piece ace#one piece
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LOST IN A ROOM
“boy, what did I tell you? love makes you a dead fool.”
— #RAFAYEL: LOVE AND DEEP SPACE
— PAIRING, GENRE, WARNINGS: rafayel x gnc!reader, mainly fluff, with a bit of flirting and banter, implied nsfw things but nothing specifically stated, no warnings!!
— SYNOPSIS: after a work trip, you return to a pouty and dramatic rafayel. you attempt to make up for your absence by surprising him with a sudden visit. but end up… having a different way of catching up.
— WRITER’S NOTE: long time, no post. hiii besties, i found this in my google doc’s and decided to finish it. i haven’t been too inspired to write lately so my bad. i stole the title from a song by rome hero foxes. uhhmmm not proofread per usual. enjoy and take care of yourself, mwah mwah ♡
It had been a while since you were able to go to Rafayel’s studio. It wasn’t intentional, it had just been a busy week. A week that was quickly reaching two and he wasn’t shy to remind you almost constantly.
“Aren’t you my bodyguard? You’re supposed to be checking up on me too.”
You rolled your eyes, hearing his voice vacant your head again. To make up for your absence, you decided to surprise him with a visit. You quietly opened the door, trying your best to sneak through. It was hard to do since it was so silent, the only sound being a soft flutter of a curtain from an opened window. You searched each room, anticipating Rafayel, but was met with disappointment. It wasn’t until you reached his living room where you saw him. He was laid out on his couch, his breath slow and calm. You walked closer, making sure you stayed silent. Your hands hovered over him before caressing his face with your finger tips.
“Hm… you’re cute even when you’re sleeping.” You scoffed, brushing your hand down his face. You moved a stray hair from his face, taking another second just gazing at him. “I’ll let you get your rest.”
You let out a soft breath, going to turn towards the door. You didn’t even make it a step further before, Rafayel quickly grabs your wrist, pulling you back into the couch causing you to fall into his arms. He wraps them around you before gently placing his head into the crook of your neck.
“Y-You were awake?” You gasped, flipping your head towards him. His eyes were still closed, with the same calm expression as before.
“Mm... no need to be so loud.” He grumbled, pulling you even closer. You were basically just his plushie at this point. “Surprised you even remembered that I’m alive.” His eyes remained closed but now accompanied by a pout. Your hands moved towards his, now realizing they were placed on your waist.
“Rafayel… I was busy. I did tell you this time. And I came here to surprise you. Surely that counts for something.” You softly sighed, brushing your thumb across his hand.
“Hmph.” He continued to pout. “What are you going to do to make it up for me?”
“Was coming over not enough?”
“Not at all.” He whined, finally opening his eyes. “That’s your duty, a long awaited one at that.” You shake your head and let out a small laugh.
“Fine. What can I do to make it up to you then?”
“Prove that you're sorry.”
“And how do I do that? I already apologized to you.”
Rafayel huffed, before slightly shrugging. “That’s for you to figure out. It wouldn’t be genuine if I told you what to do, now would it?”
You stayed there in silence for a moment, contemplating on what to do. You managed to turn around to face him. Rafayel made a face at you but continued to look at you curiously.
“You’re such a baby, you know?” You laughed, reaching towards his face. You slowly leaned in to kiss him, but instead placing it on his cheek.
“Now you’re just mocking me.”
“You’re so dramatic, Raf. Do you want a kiss that badly?” You teased, half joking. He suddenly pulled you even closer. You were almost on top of him at this point. Your leg rested on the top of his thigh.
“I do. Is that so wrong?” He asked, sliding his hand underneath your chin to the back of your neck. Your words were caught in your throat, unaware of this side of him. “Can I kiss you, Miss bodyguard?”
Your words continued to be stuck, only able to nod continuously. Rafayel slowly leaned in, placing a soft kiss against your lips. You melted against his softness and the warmth coming from him. You came to after a second wrapping an arm around his neck. You were hungry for more. His kiss was too addicting, you would have gotten mad if you could think straight. The soft kiss evolved into desperation and need. You softly bit his lip, in hopes that he’d slightly part them. And he did. He knew your body language all too well just from the encounters with wanderers.
“Now who’s so dramatic?” He chuckled, pulling away. You pout, looking up at him. “Come on, don’t you wanna tell me about your trip?” Rafayel smirked, sitting up straight. Your brows slightly furrowed. You’d forgot how cocky he could act.
“That can wait… stop acting so unaffected. I can see how flushed your face is! We have… catching up to do.” You muttered, pulling him back towards you. He returned without a second thought. Chuckling on his way down seeing your sudden switch.
#love and deepspace#love and deepspace x reader#rafayel#rafayel x reader#rafayel love and deepspace#rafayel lads#lads rafayel#lads x reader#lnd rafayel#lnd x reader#love and deepspace fluff#love and deepspace oneshot#lads rafayel oneshot#divider by cafekitsune
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Second Visit
the long-awaited heavily requested part two of Doctor's Orders
WC: 3.4k
warning(s): afab descriptions and she/her pronouns, language, casual dominance, sexual content (fingering and f receiving oral sex), extremely inappropriate relationship with gynecologist (remember this is only fiction!)
finally decided to finish the draft that i loved but's been sitting in a google doc for like months. i really hope you guys enjoy it. i’m always a lover of feedback. 🤍🤍🤍
Your chest is pumping rapidly as you fight through your nerves. Last time you were in this exact seat, you had no idea what was to come. And now that you do, it’s all you can think about. Truthfully since then, it’s all you’ve been able to think about. Day and night your head replays the image, sounds, and the feeling of him. The phantom of his fingers deep inside you, hitting every spot that you hadn’t known existed, tortures you every time you can get a moment to yourself.
He’s your doctor. It even feels wrong to think about it, but something about it feeling wrong feels so damn right.
You return to the familiar feeling of picking at your fingers to quell your nerves as your head and your body fight each other for what you should do next. You came here on a mission, you wanted him. You needed him. There isn’t even anything wrong with you, realistically you shouldn’t even be here. But it felt like you were going through withdrawal symptoms. His touch was like a psychedelic drug. The kind of feeling that leaves you feeling like you’re seeing the world through a kaleidoscope exploding with colors and euphoria. And since you’ve felt it once, you don’t think you can ever go back.
The door opens and your heart drops, thinking it’s the lady coming out to call your name, but what you see is arguably much scarier.
Dr. Styles, looking down at his phone as he holds open the door for the nurse behind him with his left arm. He smiles and a small chuckle leaves his lips as he reads whatever is on his phone, the dimples that pop in his cheeks nearly make you melt and you try your best not to look at him before he notices you.
In all your nerves, you don’t realize your purse is slipping off of your lap. Before you can stop it, it tumbles off of your lap and falls to the floor with an audible crash. Your eyes fall shut in embarrassment and you open them just in time to see his head snap up in confusion and then soften in recognition.
You nearly hold your breath as a sly smile graces his face and he walks over to you. As soon as he reaches you, he kneels so he’s at eye level with your stomach, using your knee as support, and begins to pick up your bag and the things that fell out of it. Even just the simple touch of his hand on your knee makes a zip of electricity course through your body right to your core. You take in a shaky breath and the lightning strikes in the same place twice when he looks up at you to speak, “Hi honey…back so soon? Everything okay?” His hand remains on your knee as he speaks, still kneeling before you as his piercing green eyes bore into yours.
“I um…” Your brain fails to send the necessary signals to your mouth as you look at him and he frowns. He assumes that you might be embarrassed to talk about it in front of everyone else in the waiting room. His eyebrows furrow while the look in his eyes intensifies with concern, he clicks his tongue and pushes himself to stand up, “Let’s go talk in my office, sweetheart.”
It feels like you’re operating on auto-pilot as he walks the two of you to his office, his hand resting on the small of your back. Your mind swims with the things he could do to you when you get in there, you wonder if he’ll use his fingers again, or his mouth, maybe he’ll put you out of your misery and let you have all of him. You’d take anything that he gives you, you’re that desperate.
He sits you down on the chair in his office, and stands in front of you, maintaining that piercing eye contact. The deep, tingly feeling in your tummy swells when he offers you a comforting grin. “Wha’s the matter, honey. You know you can tell me, always.”
It’s a certain degree of embarrassing how much you’ve thought about him since you’ve last been here. And you aren’t an idiot, it occurred to you that maybe the only reason you were so hung up on him was that you missed somebody else’s touch in general. So you ventured out, tried to meet someone and have a casual hookup, you followed through, and they disappointed. Dr. Styles felt like he was on another level, completely in tune with your pleasure and what you needed. He played your body as if it were an instrument and he was the most talented musician in the world.
You don’t realize that you are lost in your thoughts until you hear the soft timbre of his voice again, “hm? Talk to me.”
You take a deep breath and try your absolute hardest not to stumble through your words, but they almost feel like poison as they leave your lips. Shyness has always been a considerable part of your nature and it doesn’t help that the most intimidating man in the world is standing in front of you, staring intensely at you with those deep green eyes. “It’s just um…ever since my last appointment, I’ve been like–I think–” you grumble in frustration and a wave of hot embarrassment tinges your cheeks. You look down at your worn fingers, breaking eye contact. You’re afraid that if you looked at him any longer you might die.
A small chuckle leaves his lips and he sighs softly. Somehow, your heart begins to beat impossibly faster when he leans off of his desk to approach you. You keep your head down, unable to look him in the eye again and you attempt to control your shaky breathing.
Your breath stutters and then stops when he hooks his index finger under your chin to regain your eye contact. Your eyes flutter closed briefly. God, you’ve missed that soft touch. It feels as if your body has finally come back to life after being dormant since you two have been apart. You have to fight back a sated sigh as his thumb begins to stroke your chin softly and you wish you dared to tell him to just fuck you already.
His fingers squeeze your chin with a deliberate grip and your eyes quickly open. You’ve noticed that he enjoys eye contact, thrives on it. He likes to see you get nervous for him, he likes to see you fall apart. He derives pleasure from the way you can barely look at him without breaking, so he forces you to break. And truth be told, you love it. You’d break for him any day.
“Look at me when we’re speaking, honey. Just breathe. Then be my good girl and use your words. You know I can’t help you unless you use that pretty mouth and talk to me, yeah?” He punctuates his words when his thumb brushes against your lip in delicate strokes. You honestly have no idea where he got the insane idea that you can even think, much less form words when he’s touching you like that.
When you just stare at him, with a pathetic longing look in your eyes, his fingers come down to squeeze your chin again, only this time much firmer, “Speak. Don’t make me ask you again, sweetheart.”
“S-sorry I just…I’ve missed you.” Is all you’re able to string together, it sounds incredibly stupid out loud but you have a feeling he knows exactly what you mean. His eyebrows raise before they relax back down and his grip on your chin loosens back to gentle.
“Oh baby, don’t apologize. You’ve missed me, hm? Mind telling me what exactly it is that you’ve missed?” his expression morphs into a teasing smirk as he rolls his lips inside his mouth. His eyes read like he knows exactly what you’ve missed, but he just wants to hear you say it.
His gaze is intense as he reads your expression carefully, analyzing you for any signs that you might not want what he thinks you want. He traces his gaze from your eyes to your mouth, the delicate pout you wear almost makes him melt right in the spot he stands in. From the moment he saw you he thought that you were one of the most beautiful women he’s ever seen. It’s like all of your unique features perfectly coexist in a teasing harmony. It makes him weak.
It takes a lot out of you, but you’re able to tell him exactly what you missed. When he hears you, his jaw clenches, he maintains eye contact and you force yourself to keep looking no matter how much your anxiety is screaming at you to look away. For a second you wonder if you’ve done something wrong with the way he’s just looking at you, making no move to touch you and give you what you need, but that worry is melted away quickly when he speaks again.
He offers his hand out to you with a blank expression. Albeit confused, you place your hand in his. His dimples pop in his cheeks at your almost demure nature and he smirks softly, “Show me. Show me where it hurts, honey. Take my hand and show me.” His voice is smooth like toffee, filled with a syrupy heat that makes your panties pool.
His eyes migrate to the silky smooth skin of your thighs, suddenly grateful that you wore a skirt today so he could admire your beauty and have easy access to give you what he knows you’re so desperate for.
Tremors plague your hand as you slowly guide him to your throbbing core. The tension in the room is palpable, it’s so quiet that the only sounds in the room are Harry’s soft but strained breathing and your erratic breaths.
When his fingertips finally reach your clothed warmth he groans in appreciation. Truth be told, he missed you too. “Fuck, atta girl. So good for me, aren’t you?” Your eyes flutter closed in relief and you nod mindlessly. It’s incredible how he can completely remove any thoughts other than himself or his touch from your mind so easily. And he’s so casual about it too, so nonchalant about the way he pulverizes your brain and turns you into a brainless toy, just for him.
“How many times have you thought about this since the last time, honey? How many times were you knuckle deep in this needy cunt wishing that it was me instead? Tell me.” His fingers brush against your entrance and he slowly pushes two fingers in, pulsing them against your spot as soon as he finds it just to see you shudder. The gruffness of his voice accompanied by the gentle mocking tone makes your brain melt even further, your eyes roll back and you hear him chuckle at your lack of response.
“Mm, honey.” He mocks. “Already? S’already too much for you, baby?” you can feel him slipping his fingers out as he speaks, and the utter dread you feel knowing that the empty feeling you’ve been plagued with is going to come back makes you want to cry, and you know how truly pathetic that is, but you can’t find it in yourself to really care. He pulls his fingers out gently, bringing them up to his mouth to wrap his lips around them and suck needily.
“N-no no, please. Please?” you’re too shy to vocalize exactly what you’re begging for, but you know he knows. Harry always knows exactly what you need.
“See tha’s your problem. You’re not too keen on using your words. And we’re gonna fix that right now.” Without much of a warning, his fingers are back inside you. You choke on a harsh gasp that melts right into a moan when he begins to fuck you relentlessly with them, targetting your spot and ruining you from the inside out. His other hand comes into play when he places two fingers on your clit and rubs it in tantalizing circles.
Harry’s knees land on the floor when his face becomes level with your cunt, he leans in and lets his eyes flutter closed as if he’s savoring the smell of you, “I need to taste you, baby. You smell so fuckin’ good.”
A slew of rushed and needy pleas leave your mouth as you stumble over whiney moans, “please, Doct—” his eyes snap up to meet your gaze, and his eyebrows furrow in disapproval, “Harry. Please, Harry.”
The tone of your voice when you say his name sends a zip of electricity down to his confined cock and a needy moan of appreciation leaves his lips as they finally make contact with your core, planting a searing kiss at your entrance.
He groans like he’s relieved, like he’s finally getting what he’s been starving for for so long. You can’t help the way that feeds your ego. He’s been wanting you, needing you, yearning for you. “Tastes so good, baby. D’you know how good you taste?” he whispers.
“Speak.” His other hand plants a small tap on your thigh, not hard enough to really hurt, but intentional enough to serve as a warning.
“N-no.” You mumble.
“No?” you almost want to cry again as he pulls his fingers out and that dreaded empty feeling returns. His eyes are locked on how wet you’ve got his fingers like he’s in a trance and you swear you almost hear him sigh in contentment. He snaps out of his reverie and looks up at you, when he sees a pout he shushes you softly and brings his fingers up to your lips. He taps them there once before you part them like the good girl he knows you are. His fingers slowly enter your mouth and you suck softly on them almost as if it’s out of instinct, “atta girl” he praises lowly.
“See? So good.” He starts to nod and like his brainless toy, you nod with him. Taking in every cue of his praise that you can grasp.
You don’t even realize his fingers are inching back down to your core until a gasp rips through your throat and they’re inside you again, his mouth back on your clit like it never left. He’s greedy as he devours you. He drinks you in and takes you like he needs it to breathe. Honestly, you’re not even sure he is breathing right now. But he doesn’t seem to care, he just keeps going, keeps flicking his tongue softly on your clit and fucking his tongue into you, holding your hip with one hand to make sure that you can’t get away.
And last time, when it was just his fingers, it felt perfect. He pushed you just enough for you the feel that mind-breaking bliss that you’ve been chasing since your last visit. But now, with his perfect tongue and his perfect fingers making you feel so fucking perfect. It’s almost too much.
“Fuck, Harry. S’too–too much.”
“Mm-mm” He groans disapprovingly, “I know baby, I know it feels a little too good honey but you can take it. I know you can take it.”
He starts to go harder as if you’re not about to explode and the sounds that leave your lips should make you feel embarrassed, but with every stroke of his fingers and his tongue. All thoughts of reservation are gone, and you just want to lose yourself in him.
“Squeezin’ me so tight, honey. Gonna come for me? Been working so hard for it baby. Give me what I deserve. Give yourself what you deserve. Come on.” he rambles on and on as he pushes you to your peak, not offering you any kind of break from the way he’s ruining you with his fingers and his tongue. You’d think that he was the one getting head the way he was moaning against your core, the vibrations only increase the pleasure tenfold and you start to tremble through the sensations.
And when it hits you, it hits you. You shake in an almost violent way, so much so that he has to manuver his hands to hold you properly so that you don’t collapse onto the floor. His tongue parts from you so he can stand up and he lets his fingers pulse inside you to help you ride out the intense wave of pleasure that has needy whines and pathetic whimpers leaving your throat, “atta fuckin’ girl. So good for me. You’re so beautiful.” he whispers out a bunch of sweet nothings as he leaves soft kisses all over any part of exposed skin that he can find, leaving the residue of your pleasure in his wake.
You feel like you’re floating, like you’re laying on a bed of clouds and all you can comprehend is the pleasure still coursing through your veins, Harry’s soft voice, Harry’s soft kisses. It’s only now that you realize how much trouble you’re truly in, you don’t think you can go without this. It just gets better every time.
“Sweet just like honey. My honey, so fucking beautiful.” He praises. A sated smile graces your face and for a couple of moments, you forget where you are. You forget that he’s your doctor and you’re his patient and you let yourself live in the fantasy where Harry is yours and you get to come home to those hauntingly beautiful green eyes every night.
It dawns on you that this could very well be the last time, so you decide you’d like to make it count.
“Harry.” you mumble, bringing your hands up to tangle in his hair which he groans at, he closes his eyes and smiles, his head following the movement of your hands.
“Mm, yes honey?”
You really cannot chicken out now. You know that if you do you’re going to regret it. You’re never going to forgive yourself for how you had the opportunity to fuck this gorgeous man and passed it up to live the rest of your life wondering how it would’ve felt.
So no matter how hard it is for you to say, you force it out.
“Fuck me. Please.”
You almost regret it when it leaves your lips at the way he freezes up and immediately meets your pleading gaze. And then he smiles, which morphs into a teasing smirk, and you think you’ve got him, that is until he opens his mouth.
“Sweet girl. My job is to take care of you. And I did, yeah?” Your heart stings a little at the rejection but you nod nonetheless, eager to please him, “don’t need you doing me any favors, honey.
Your brows furrow at this, a favor? In what world would him fucking you be doing him a favor. If you had any less dignity you’d get on your knees right now and beg and plead for him until he gave you what you so desperately craved.
“S’not a favor. I want it….so much.” you whisper that last part. He sees your needy pout and he mirrors your expression in an almost condescending way.
“Are you telling me I haven’t taken care of you right, honey? Do you need more? Is that it? Doctor Styles need a lesson on how to treat his girl proper?” Theres a teasing lilt to his voice as he speaks, a dimple popping in his cheeks as he smirks and awaits your answer. You nod and he tsks softly, a gentle reminder for you to speak.
“No. You haven’t and I really really need more.”
“Hm. Tell you what. I’m not fucking you for the first time in my office. Ask a guy out to dinner first.” He watches your face as the small quip lands and a small chuckle leaves his lips as you roll your eyes, “but…I can pay my favorite patient a little house visit, and we can go from there.”
His squeezes your hips with firm hands and drops his head into your neck, sucking a soft mark on the exposed skin, his hips shift against yours softly and a shaky breath leaves his occupied lips, “Can’t wait. God only knows how much I need you.” he whispers the last sentence as if he’s scared to say them any louder and your eyes flutter closed at the unspoken promise of how he’s going to take care of you again, and properly this time.
He taps your hips once and leaves one last kiss on your skin, “I’ll see you then. Drive safe, looking forward to your next appointment, honey.”
#harry styles fic#harry styles one shot#harry styles writing#harry styles smut#harry styles blurb#harry smut#harry styles#harry styles x reader#harry styles fanfic#harry styles imagines#harry styles dirty imagine#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fic rec
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The Fruit After The Flesh 18+ -Chapter 14
Minors DNI!
Masterlist
Approximately 4,989 words
Pairing: Thomas Hewitt (Headcanon) x AFAB reader
This chapters Warnings: Sexual language and depiction of sexual acts, foul language, brief PTSD scene, mention of reproductive choices. This is Slasher smut, be mindful of that and use your discretion.
A/n: See the end of chapter for a special authors note since I dont want to spoil anything here. I feel pretty good about this chapter, the art has some sloppy work because I was passing out while working on them so please be nice, I hope theres no typos or weirdness in the edited writing either because I was also passing out for that. The censored image can be viewed raw on my google doc (By clicking that link you are consenting to seeing graphic adult imagery and you are over 18). Let me know if you want to be in the tag list. I update chapter progress on the masterlist whenever something changes.
Please enjoy this chapter! I worked very hard on it so reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated very much.
Tag List: @fan-goddess , @artxasa , @baybaybear1 , @amour-tae , @dij-ology , @jillian-mill
Chapter 14
The day started with you getting a phone call from the contractor, he informed you that your house was fully repaired and ready to move back into; You immediately got changed and walked over, highly excited to see the finished work. You arrived quickly, opening the heavy wooden door where the smell of fresh paint and new wood filled your lungs. The sun’s rays lit up the rooms giving the home a cheery appearance, as if it was happy to see you.
You slowly made your way through the entrance to head straight for your room, when you passed through the doorway you felt a knot form in your stomach, the memory of the fire was making you feel fear as if you were experiencing it all over again. You let the anxiety hit you to really feel the emotions fully, you figured if you could handle the ghost of the past then you could strive to overcome it.
Within a few short moments, the feeling passed but the cortisol surge remained. You left the bedroom and sat on the couch in the living room exhaling deeply as you reclined. You looked out at the large storage container that you had yet to completely empty, it was costing you to keep it on the property and felt like a constant reminder of how new you still were to this country.
The entire day was spent emptying out the storage crate to fill up your home. Extra clothes and furniture found their place in every corner of the house, by nightfall you managed to get your bedroom and bathroom to look mostly normal again. The fire destroyed your bed and stained the wardrobes with soot, some floor lamps were melted and unusable as well as your window curtains.
-Looks like I need to buy a new bed and some furniture- You thought about how nice you could make your room, and what curtains to buy to cover the bedroom window with. -I think it might be good to invest in some security features too while I’m at it- Dover’s attack on you affected the way you felt when you were alone, it was now pertinent to have visibility from many angles and access to view them at any time in case someone tried to hurt you while you were unaware again.
After ruminating on your fears, you locked up and left the house, the moon was now high in the sky and you realized you hadn’t eaten all day. When you left and got to the end of your driveway, you saw headlights shining up the road heading in the direction of the Hewitts house. The driver gave a honk and when you squinted to look, you recognized the truck, it was Charlie.
He pulled up next to you and reached over to unlock the passenger door,
“Get in ‘fore you get ate by a coyote” he said through the open window.
You smile and hop into the passenger’s side of the truck; the seat is rough edged from wear and scrapes the exposed skin on your leg as you slide onto it. You shut the door and thank him for picking you up,
“Are there really coyotes around here?” You asked
He smirks, “Well now, ain’t a whole lot of wildlife really comin’ ‘round here no more.”
You wrinkle your brows, “Must be lucky then eh?”
He chuckles and raises his eyebrows, “Somethin’ like that”
You roll your eyes and give a tight-lipped smirk, you knew it wasn’t luck, if anything it was a whole lot of bad luck that accumulated on this land brought onto poor hapless victims taken from the outside world just to feed the starving Hewitts. This land really was a world of its own, it felt like you were existing in another universe, the remoteness didn’t help much with that either.
“What’s ‘at look for?” he was obviously trying to sleuth out your expression.
Your eyes widen and you quickly face the open window to prevent further incriminating looks,
“Nothing” you hope he would drop it, but he continues,
“You’re bein’ real suspicious ain’t ya? Somethin’ I should know ‘bout?”
You reply with a hint of annoyance in your voice,
“Oh my Goduh, nothiiiiiiiiing” -that should throw him off-.
Charlie laughs and changes the subject,
“You gon’ move back into Tilly’s house now that it’s fixed up?”
You continue to look out the window,
“Yeah, I have been bothering you guys long enough.”
He quickly replies, “You was never no bother girly, I know Luda Mae’s gon’ be real upset seein’ you less. She sure hates an empty nest.”
You didn’t think it would be that much of an impact, you felt like a total leech living there for as long as you did,
“I’m sure she will be relieved having less cooking and housework to do…she never let me help.”
Charlie laughs, “That woman? She’s been feelin’ like a mother again what with doin’ all the women’s work. Was always her happiest when she was carin’ for the boy. Obsessed with motherhood, guess it’s normal for womenfolk to think like that.”
You roll your eyes, you had become used to the way Charlie spoke about women in the time you lived with him, but it was still obnoxious to hear such outdated ideals in modern day.
Charlie puts his arm up on the bench seat, he gives you an inquisitive look, he asks,
“You think like her at all?”
You sigh, “Isn’t that a bit personal?”
He sucks his teeth and looks at the road, he continues,
“Shoot girly, it’s just a question.”
You remain quiet for a few seconds before responding, “No… it’s never really been a goal for me.”
“Huh.”
You replied, already feeling defensive, “What?”
“Just never encountered a ‘no’ from a woman regardin’ kids is all.”
Instinctively, you began preparing to hear the usual patriarchal bullshit thrown at women who choose a different reproductive path. You prepare the counter arguments in your head, you cross your arms and say,
“Ok, lay it out then, tell me how I’m going to change my mind someday or whatever. Let’s get it over with”
Charlie lets out a confused grunt, he turns to you laughing,
“Sweetheart, I couldn’t give two shits ‘bout you not wantin’ to get knocked up. Only reason I bring it up is ‘cus I heard some foolin’ around in the basement the other day.”
Your eyes widen and you tense up with embarrassment, he laughs again,
“Now don’t get yourself all twisted up ‘bout it, s’about time that boy got some tail.”
Your muscles relax a bit, you couldn’t help but blush at your seemingly private exploration being heard. He continues,
“If you n’ the boy are gettin’ that serious, I feel I need to warn you that he’s got no bullet with the blast”
Your nerves wanted out of this conversation, but your curiosity made you dig for information,
“How would you know something like that?”
“Tommy ain’t our blood, Luda Mae found him in a dumpster behind the meat packin’ shop she worked at back in the day. Was a large thing, that boy, t’was clear the momma didn’t want nothin’ to do with him so she tossed him like trash. He was uglier ‘n hell as a baby, not much different than now.” He laughs. “But he ain’t right, somethin’ in his dang blood made him grow into such a fuckin’ beast, made him stronger than any man I ever knew.”
The road was coming up on the house now, you wanted to know more, so you turned to fully face Charlie and asked,
“Being big and strong doesn’t make someone infertile…”
Charlie smirked as he parked the truck near the wheat field and shut off the engine, he leaned his head at an angle to look at you without turning his body,
“Girly, you remember we told you ‘bout the infection fuckin’ up his face?” You nod,
He continues, “He was in the hospital a few weeks getting’ medicine. If he was a normal kid he woulda died. The doctor told us he had some, uh… dang what’d he say now?” Charlie ran his hand through his hair as he thought, “I dunno what it was, somethin’ ‘bout his blood bein’ shitted up n’ to not expect any grandkids, specially with all the drugs they dun gave him. Luda Mae was real upset; I didn’t give no fucks long as he’d help ‘round the farm, and boy did he get useful.”
He got out of the truck and started walking to the house, you sat there mulling over the information you were given. -If he is infertile… No need for protection I guess- The thought of finally being able to safelyhave raw unprotected sex made you hot with lustful fantasies, sex was hard to fully enjoy when you always had the underlying fear of pregnancy looming over you.
You entered the house and made your way to the kitchen where you saw Luda Mae in a nightgown pouring from a teapot. She turned and saw you, a smile immediately formed on her lips,
“You been away all day dear, did you eat anything?”
You shake your head and walk closer to her, she continues,
“Just as I thought. I saved you some dinner in the fridge there, you can heat it up in the oven which is already preheated for you.”
She sets down the teapot and says,
“Did you get a lot done dear?”
You open the fridge and find a large plate filled with comfort food, you respond,
“Thanks for saving me dinner, you didn’t have to.” She smiles at you, and you continue,
“I got a ton of things done, I’ll be out of your hair once my bed arrives”
Luda Mae’s smile sank, you could tell she didn’t want to hear you were leaving. She saw you looking at her expression and quickly changed it back to a smile, saying,
“Well, that’s good for you dear, but don’t go feelin’ like you have to leave right away now. Take as much time as you need.”
You feel her hand gently placed on your upper back, she gives you some comforting rubs and you tell her,
“Don’t worry, I’m going to be over a lot. It’s just that the orchard needs someone there to care for it, and it’s a big job.”
She nods, understanding the need to get back to normal,
“Alright hun, you eat whatever you like and get some tea from the pot there. I’m headin’ to bed now but if you need anything, just knock on my door.”
You thank her again and she walks up the stairs. You see Charlie come in after her, he went straight for the bread buns in the basket on the counter.
“You headin’ to bed girly?”
You shake your head, he stuffs the bun in his mouth and begins to leave,
“thya ‘omarro” His words were muffled by the food he was chewing, you wished him a good night and listened to him walk up the stairs to his room, his footsteps thudding more quietly with each step.
You put the plate in the oven and let out a big sigh as you sat in the chair, you weren’t tired despite being busy all day. The thoughts of Tommy unloading his orgasms into you were energizing, you sat there feeling the ache between your legs gain intensity. -he must have gone to sleep by now, I better get changed out of these sweaty clothes-
You made your way to the bedroom and threw off your shirt and shorts, you took off your bra and exhaled in relief letting your breasts experience natural gravity again. You picked out a purple oversized T shirt that reached your knees, you felt immediately comfortable and paused before you left the room. -Might be fun to feel a little breeze as I eat dinner, everyone went to bed anyway- you quickly slipped your underwear off and tossed it near your bed, you blushed as you made your way to the kitchen giggling to yourself about the bold idea.
You step back into the kitchen and turn off the oven, you leave the plate in there to soak up the last bits of heat so it doesn’t have any cool pockets to ruin the meal. You turn and open the side door that leads to the porch, your bare feet touching the smooth wood floor. The moon was bright and lit up the land, you looked out at your home up on the hill, it was a barely visible white blob sitting lonely on the hilltop watching over the orchard.
You wondered what this town was like when it was busy, there weren’t many buildings around that you saw when you reached the gas station, but you also never drove up the road past the Hewitt house; as far as you knew, there was just tall grass and an evil man’s hiding hole.
The night air was refreshingly cool, it brushed under your shirt and tickled your naked body which felt invigorating. Back home it was rare if the nights were warm enough to stand outside half dressed, but you also didn’t have a large private porch to lounge in either.
Suddenly, a glow of warm yellow string lights lit up from the roof of the porch illuminating a large man standing in the doorway. It was Tommy, he bent down to avoid hitting his head on the doorframe and closed the door behind him. You were shocked to see him, and were now very aware of the fact that you were completely nude under this shirt, you almost missed the fact that he was shirtless.
You pull down your shirt to ensure it isn’t somehow lifting up and making your lower region visible,
“I thought you were asleep?” you ask
“Heard y’come in, wanted t’check up on ya” he spoke softly.
He moved next to you, putting his massive arms on the railing and leaning forward to look at the land. You felt nervous being so close to him with your secret hiding under the thin fabric of your shirt. -Why am I nervous? I was in a pond with him naked for gods sake!- Despite your previous escapades you still felt giddy at the thought of him discovering your hidden nudity.
You try to divert your nerves with conversation,
“Thanks for teaching me how to defend myself, it feels better knowing I might stand a chance now.”
He nods at you and smiles with his eyes, his dark mask hiding his damaged skin, you noticed his pushed back hair was wet and when he moved closer you could smell the fresh scent of a masculine scented soap, it was intoxicating. You shake your head a little to snap yourself out of it,
“S-so were you going to stay up here a while? I need to get my dinner out of the oven if you want to hang out as I eat.”
You quickly make your way to the kitchen hoping to escape his alluring scent, it was flooding your mind with wicked thoughts about his arms squeezing around you like a python while he fucked you. -god damn, why does he have to smell so good, and look so good, and be so fucking massive and hot!- You argued with your thoughts, you wouldn’t be able to try playing with him while Luda-Mae and Charlie were just one floor away, too risky, but you didn’t want to be obvious by pulling him downstairs.
You were wise to his antics, and you remember when he said “I’m gon’ start messin’ with y’now”he made sure you understood he was going to torture you with desire. He followed you into the kitchen barely being able to pass through the doorframe, you try to ignore him, you were onto him and wanted to see what he would attempt.
“I’ll get that for ya” he reached down into the oven without oven mitts and grabbed the plate without flinching, he sets it down on the table in front of you then reaches to get you a fork.
You touch the plate and it stings with heat,
“How didn’t that burn you?”
He shrugs, “Thick skin I guess”
He takes a seat next to you and hands over the fork, you thank him and begin to eat. He leans back in the chair and relaxes as he watches you, he then asks,
“That house o’ yers is done huh”
You nod, eating hastily not realizing how hungry you were. He continues,
“Y’gon’ move on out then?” His voice was vibrating the plate on the table from the low timbre.
You swallow the large ball of food in your mouth and reply,
“The orchard hasn’t been properly tended to in a while, I have to keep those trees alive and… Tilly made it a clause in her will.”
He crosses his arms and nods, leaning back and looking away,
“Won’t see much of ya ‘round then I s’pose”
You put the fork down and sit back, a serious look on your face, he looks over at you and notices the shift,
“What’s amatter?” he asks.
You look him in the eyes, “I wanted to run something by you actually”
He shifts in his seat and places one arm on his thigh and the other on the table while his torso was turned to face you,
“Y’can ask me whatever y’want”
A tiny smile hits your lips from his words,
“Well, Dover didn’t really teach me about caring for the trees. I figure I can read up on it and do my best to learn everything I can but…” You paused, you clenched the edge of your t-shirt bottom before finding the courage to push out the question, “I want to know if you knew anything about caring for orchards, and maybe, if you did… you could teach me the basics until I can do it myself”
Tommy was quiet, he put his hand to his chin and was deep in thought, you got nervous and added,
“Y-you can say no its ok, I know it’s a big ask since you already do so much around here, I just thought it would be nice to… spend more time together is all.”
He leaned back in the chair, it creaked under his weight,
“I’ll help ya. I dunno a whole lot ‘bout orchards but, I helped Tilly when she needed it, she taught me a thing or two”
You smile, “I’m really glad”
You got up to put the leftovers away, Tommy followed and stood up to open the fridge door from behind you as you placed the food back inside.
When he shut the fridge door, he kept is arms around you fencing you in. You spun around to look at him, he was towering over you, his steely blue eyes gazed at you through heavy lids. He moved his hand to gently caress your neck and trailed it under your jaw, lifting your face to look in his eyes.
“Y’don’t need no excuse to get me alone” his voice was smooth and enshrouded your mind making you feel a wave of arousal flood your body.
“Oh Yeah?” you speak in a breathy whisper.
He nods slowly, you touch the thick leather of his mask and say,
“What do I need to do to see your handsome face then?”
He hangs his head down and laughs, he lifts his head and brings it close to your face,
“Go ‘head then”
You excitedly remove the mask revealing his gnarled old wound that exposed his teeth through his cheek, the more you got to see his real face the harder you fell for him.
“Still likin’ what y’see?” he asks.
You smile and lift yourself up to his face, you look into his eyes and slowly move in to kiss his lips. He lets out a muffled hum as he kisses you back, you press in harder and lift your hands to cup his face, his stubbles was shaved off to a clean finish. You forgot how wonderful his lips felt, the kiss quickly became heated with passion, both of you began to breathe more hastily.
Tommy put his hands on the sides on your body, slowly moving them downwards until he reached where he wanted to. He wrapped his hands around your thighs and lifted you up onto his chest so your face was the same level as his, you stifled an excited squeal when your body lifted into the air so effortlessly.
He smiled and kept you in his arms while kissing you, you threw your arms around his neck to keep your body leaned forward past his bulky pecs to reach his face. You felt his hands move inwards towards your weepy slit. He was trying to get a more stable grip so you could sit comfortably, but when his fingers discovered no underwear, he stopped kissing you and gave you a devilish grin,
“What we got here?” he spoke through a chuckle
You blushed and bit your lip remaining quiet, unsure of what to say,
He kept tickling your labia with gentle flicks of his fingers, your breathing hastened and you suppressed a moan with your hand over your mouth,
“Bad girl, y’need to go to yer room huh”
You nod, “Put me there”
He moves his mouth close to yours, but when you lean in for a kiss, he slowly pulls away grinning. He carries you through the porch door, entering sideways and leaning down to avoid hitting his head. He stops when he reaches the double door leading to your room, he turns around and places you on the railing of the porch which is wide enough for you to sit comfortably.
“Why did you set me here?” you ask.
“I aint givin’ in so easily” he grumbles through a smirk
“…do you want me to beg or something?” you laugh.
He gives you a smug look, “Maybe”
“Oh please, I can keep myself under control. No amount of flirting would make me want to be-“
He cuts you off by gripping your hips and pulling your body close to the edge of the railing top so you were flush against his warm torso. You huff defiantly until he presses his erection onto your cunt, your abundant juices coated the fabric of his sweat pants. You let out an unexpected moan and quickly cover your mouth to quiet it.
Tommy slowly rubs his stiff cock up and down the length of your lips, pressing in when his head met your hole just to tease you. He was grinning watching you hold your hand to your mouth as you hushed your whines. You so badly wanted to feel the skin of his dick move inside you, the cloth barrier was unbearable. He was enjoying the antagonization, his grip on your hips was firm you wouldn’t be able to escape even if you wanted to, he just kept pulling you closer to him until you gave in and said,
“Please, I want it” your words were like a song to him.
“Well, since y’asked nicely” he growled.
He threw you over his shoulder, making you giggle, and entered your room through the porch entrance closing the doors behind him as swiftly as he entered. He gently laid you on the bed gazing down at you while you writhed with arousal, you hesitantly spread your legs and lifted your shirt to reveal your lower half. Tommy got on the bed, it made a creaking groan under his massive weight. He leaned over you and placed one of his hands down between your folds caressing your entrance, you breathed in sharply and spread your legs further to let him have more access.
Tommy ran his fingers over your tender skin, his digits getting slick with wet the more he rubbed. You put your arms around his neck and pulled his face onto yours and kissed him, he moaned into your mouth and slipped his middle finger into your hole,
“Oh fuck” you whispered
His finger was almost as thick as an average man’s penis, and just as long. He slowly moved in and out of you, the calloused skin scratched your walls and bumped your g-spot sending your nerves into overdrive with pleasure, he feels your walls clench down on his finger,
“Y’got such a tiny lil hole” he says gruffly.
“Yeah? Why don’t you fuck it then” you command.
He pulls his finger out and runs his hand up your shirt skimming along your sensitive skin as he moves, he finds your breast and starts massaging the nipple making you moan with the electrical impulses that tickle your nerves.
“Y’want me bad huh” his tone was mocking.
You reply in a breathy tone “Please, fuck me”
Tommy pinches your nipple before he leans back and pulls his massive cock out from under his sweatpants, his erection was so full that he whined as he held it. Seeing his massive length was sending you over the edge with desperation. Tommy lowered himself down so his shaft lay on your clit, his dick was heavy and warm, the feeling of it on your swollen nub was making you feel drunk with desire.
He rubbed his length up and down your wet folds at an agonizingly slow pace, your wetness coating all along his cock making it glisten in the light of the moon. You tried to wrap your legs around his hips to pull him in but he quickly grabbed them with ease and pushed them all the way back so your knees were touching the sides of your chest.
You were so sexually frustrated with having him tease your greedy hole, you tried to raise your hips to entice him to slip inside but he remained steady.
Tommy saw how badly you wanted him to fuck you, he loved watching how your body beckoned him to enter it. He decided to have mercy on you and pressed his thick head on your hole, allowing you to slowly adjust to the width. He let out heavy sighs as your pussy began to slowly swallow his tip, the soft velvety feel of your lips made him moan deeply. The stretch of his girth sent waves of pleasure through your core and the vibration of his deep voice made it seem like you were mating with a beast.
You managed to slip halfway down his head before he couldn’t take much more and he began to slowly move his tip in and out. He was groaning, trying to control himself but your slicked entrance was beginning to bring out something feral from deep within him, he kept trying to slide more of himself inside but you weren’t opening up fast enough to allow him full entry.
You grab onto his wrists and dig your nails in, he was so wide that your poor little cunt couldn’t adjust fast enough to meet his lulling thrusts. You could feel a sting of pain with each movement as his width increased, the pleasure was overpowering the sting and you didn’t want him to stop. It felt like an impossible task to get even just the rest of his head inside, but you wanted so desperately to be penetrated by him, so you focused on relaxing your muscles to grant him deeper access.
He was quickly losing control over his movements and felt your vaginal walls loosening up, he fought the urge to just aggressively push in deep to get past the last hurdle. He was high on the feeling of your insides, his mind felt light and dreamy, as if his brain was swimming. He kept pressing in further with each forward motion until all of his head was finally inside you, he pulled out further before each hungry thrust to coat himself in more of your dripping sweetness.
“I want the whole thing, give it to me Tommy, I need it” you pleaded.
Tommy needed to get hold of his mind that was beginning to slip away, he had a strong carnal desire to just plow into you but he instead forced himself to remain still. You look up at him wondering why he stopped moving, your vaginal walls still pulsating around his tip from the incredible sensations it brought. He gives you a crooked grin and gently pulls out of you, then stands up off the bed and hastily puts his pants over his erection.
“What! Why?” you asked furiously
He laughs, “That’s payback, my angel”
Tommy walks out of your room and leaves you there a dripping, horny mess; You chuckled to yourself and flopped onto your stomach and yelled into your pillow. You now wanted to get past this cheeky stage and just start fucking like rabbits but you knew he was going to continue this provocatory teasing. It was time to pull out all your tricks and make it so unbearable for him to resist that he will give up messing around and give into his temptations.
Tommy got back into his room in the basement, his mask back on his face where it belonged. He was still fully engorged and now feeling pain from the intense pressure, he needed a release badly, but he also wanted to start practicing control over his desires. He was worried, he felt so close to just letting go and fucking you silly, he wanted to be fully present and aware if your needs when you two finally, properly, lay together.
He flopped on his bed and sighed; he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up for. The next time, he may not be able to pull away so easily.
Special authors note: I wanted to stray from the norm of Thomas constantly being portrayed as having a breeding kink (it can be hot don't get me wrong) because I know there are a lot of women who don't want to read breeding/pregnancy kink for various valid reasons and its fairly hard to find AFAB x Tommy smut where he isn't depicted in such a way. If you were expecting that, I apologize for disappointing you but I try to cater to the people who don't often get catered to because inclusivity is important to me when making adult content. So from here on out, the rest of the chapters in this series will be for the gals who don't want to think of that stuff when reading smut. Thank you for taking the time to read my fic, likes, reblogs, and comments are extremely appreciated.
-Next chapter
#what ya writin#thomas hewitt#thomas hewitt x y/n#slasher community#thomas hewitt x afab reader#leatherface 2006#texas chainsaw massacre#my art#the fruit after the flesh#slasher smut#slasher x reader#slasher thirst#slasher fandom#charlie hewitt#sheriff hoyt#hoyt
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W.M.D., Part 1: Living Weapon
Featuring: living weapon whumpee, heavy and literal dehumanization, lab whump, blindfolded whumpee, creepy whumper, brainwashing, memory loss
Taglist: @whumperofworlds
The meeting had been scheduled for 1:00. Mr. Abel showed up at 1:48, drinking something neon pink in a plastic cup and smiling apologetically. “Just chalk me up as ‘fashionably late’,” he quipped, extending his hand for a shake. “Nolan Abel, but you probably knew that, I’m everywhere. You’re Algernon Fowler, right? The scientist?”
Dr. Fowler stared witheringly at Mr. Abel’s extended hand, waiting for the man to realize that the empty right sleeve of Dr. Fowler’s lab coat was pinned up and out of the way. It took an embarrassingly long time for Mr. Abel to withdraw his hand, and even then, Dr. Fowler wasn’t sure whether he noticed or just wanted to end the awkward stare down.
“Is this your lab?” Mr. Abel asked, looking up at the top of the abandoned clock tower. “It’s…nice.”
“It is adequate,” Dr. Fowler replied. The billionaire nearly jumped at the low, whispery sound of his voice, and Dr. Fowler held back a twisted smile. “If I decide to enter into a partnership with you, I will require a more…updated facility.”
“Sure, Doc, no problem. I’ve got one all set up that nobody’s used in awhile. But I was told that I would be getting a…preview?”
Dr. Fowler nodded to the open door of his clock tower-turned-laboratory. “Just through there.”
Mr. Abel finished his drink as he entered, carelsssly tossing the plastic cup aside. It clattered on the pavement. Ignorant buffoon, Dr. Fowler thought, and followed him inside, shutting- and locking- the heavy door behind them.
“Got yourself a fixer-upper, huh?” Mr. Abel glanced around the first floor. “What a mess.”
“The natural consequences of my work. Science is not always clean.” Where Mr. Abel saw old, yellowing papers littering the floor and broken furniture pushed up against the grimy walls, Dr. Fowler saw nothing but promise and potential in the empty space. He’d thrown the papers out because he had advanced beyond their contents. He’d shoved the furniture away because he needed room to work. Even the location was important- in the middle of the most downtrodden, poverty-stricken part of the city. The building itself had been carefully chosen- a modern laboratory would have been inaccessible and drawn too much attention. The clock tower was perfect for his needs. Whatever mess the foolish Mr. Abel saw, Dr. Fowler could overlook in favor of the results that would come out of it.
“So where’s your brilliant masterpiece?” Mr. Abel asked. Dr. Fowler didn’t appreciate his teasing tone. “You said you had something special to show me.”
“I do. Upstairs.” Dr. Fowler led the way up the twisting metal staircase to the next floor of the clock tower- there were five in all. He rarely used the first floor. The second and third were his workspaces, as was the underground floor Mr. Abel did not- and would not- know about. The fifth floor was empty save for the ancient clock.
It was the fourth floor where his masterpiece lived. And it was the fourth floor where he led Mr. Abel.
“So you make weapons,” Mr. Abel said as they ascended. “Living weapons. You brainwash ‘em or something?”
Dr. Fowler scoffed. “Do not insult me. My work is no mere brainwashing or hypnotism. You may as well buy a robot if you merely want something to be commanded.” He shook his head. “The beauty of my work is in its balance. Too much, and you are left with a husk. Too little, and the result is unpredictable. There are many others in the business of making weapons. They all fall short. Their creations are mindless drones, suitable only for simple tasks.”
“And yours are different?”
Dr. Fowler smirked. “The secret of weapon making is not in the mind, but in the will. Unlike those imposters, I leave my subjects’ mind intact. What I remove is their free will. Once I am finished, they can still think for themselves. They can reason, find solutions to problems- they do not stand stupidly waiting for someone to command them. And yet they still obey commands, without question.”
“If it works like you say it does, I’ll definitely want some,” Mr. Abel answered.
“That is only the first step in my process. They must be trained as well. And there is another variable that must be accounted for.”
“What’s that?”
“Humanity. I have learned that the best way to create my weapons is to strip them of their humanity. If you’ve looked into my background, as I’m sure you have, you’ll know that I was a genetic biologist. One can make a man believe that he is less than a person. I take it one step further. I take the lie and make it true.”
They had reached the fourth floor. Dr. Fowler came out into the middle of the room first, waiting for Mr. Abel to catch up.
This floor was bare, nearly completely empty. The only things in the room were the scientist, the investor, and a figure that knelt in the center of the room, their head covered by a hood.
“You asked for proof, Mr. Abel. Here is my proof. My first successful masterpiece. Project Magnum Opus.” Dr. Fowler crossed the room and removed the hood. “Or, as I prefer to call him…Kestrel.”
Mr. Abel’s mouth dropped open as the kneeling form stood.
Dr. Fowler knew what he was seeing. A young man, or what had once been one, dark-haired and pale-skinned, hair tumbling down the neck and over the forehead to conceal the face in shadow. Bare-chested, showing a burn scar on the shoulder and smaller scars scattered over the torso. Slender, but with lean muscle corded through the lines of the body, a body made to be quick, agile and strong.
“He’s impressive. But, if I can ask, why do you call him Kestrel?” Mr. Abel asked.
A smile tugged the corner of Dr. Fowler’s lips. This man was even more oblivious than he had thought- even though the primary reason for that name was still concealed, there were still clues visible if one looked. Mr. Abel seemed to be a man who had to be shown.
Well, let me not disappoint him.
He stepped behind his weapon and unbuckled the harness around the shoulders, allowing Mr. Abel to see the evidence of the other side of his process. The billionaire actually staggered back in shock. “Are- are those real?” he breathed.
The massive black wings slowly unfurled to their full span. Dr. Fowler did not try to hide his smile now. “Of course they are. The talons are real as well.”
Mr. Abel had somehow not noticed that the weapon was barefoot, displaying the vicious curved talons that were so useful in combat, or that the hands too had talons rather than nails. If it weren’t for the blindfold over the face, he would have also seen the piercing golden eyes. The wings and talons were enough, however, and he clung to the staircase railing like he would fall out of pure shock if he didn’t hold on to something.
“You may touch him if you like,” Dr. Fowler offered magnanimously. “He will not attack.”
Mr. Abel looked distinctly nervous and Dr. Fowler reveled in it. “Are- are you sure?”
“He will not attack,” Dr. Fowler repeated. “That is, not unless I tell him to.”
Mr. Abel approached cautiously, stretching out his hand like a small child about to pet a large dog. Kestrel watched him impassively, blinking once or twice. Mr. Abel stroked the edge of the wing, his mouth stretching into a grin. “Wow,” he said. “It feels real. How’d you do it?”
Dr. Fowler smiled, and leaned close to Kestrel’s ear, and whispered, “Corpus et sanguinis. Strike.”
Mr. Abel didn’t hear the exact words, but he certainly saw the effects. Kestrel went rigid for a split second before leaping into motion, knocking Mr. Abel to the floor, the head tilting to the side as the predator found the prey even without the use of sight. The wings were useless in this confined space, but spread out anyway, helping to terrify Mr. Abel even more thoroughly. The man was screaming, horror twisting his face as a sharp talon tore a gash in his sleeve.
“Hold, Kestrel,” Dr. Fowler said. Kestrel froze, still keeping the man pinned to the floor. Dr. Fowler waited a few more moments, savoring the look of fear on Mr. Abel’s face, before he commanded, “Release him.”
Kestrel let go and stepped back, and Mr. Abel staggered to his feet, white-faced. Mr. Abel glanced from one to the other, shaking, panting, his eyes wide. He pointed a trembling finger at Dr. Fowler. “I could sue you for that, Fowler. I could sue you for all you’re worth and have your- your- thing shot.”
“No, you couldn’t,” Dr. Fowler answered. “Not without admitting that you were ever here in the first place, which, Mr. Abel, you cannot do without coming under scrutiny so intense that all your filthy little secrets will be dragged out into the light right beside me. You would lose everything, and you are not the kind of man who would risk that.” The corner of his lips turned up. “Besides, you said you wanted a preview. That is what you were given.”
The anger stayed a moment longer, fury darkening Mr. Abel’s eyes. Dr. Fowler waited, unconcerned.
Finally, Mr. Abel pulled himself to his feet, laughing sheepishly. “I guess I did want a sneak peek, didn’t I?” The anger bled out of him, replaced by intrigue. “Wow. I mean, that’s impressive. I want a dozen of them. You told anyone else about this?”
“No.”
“Don’t. I want you to be my private supplier.”
Dr. Fowler smiled. “What does a rich man need with living weapons?”
“You stick with your business and I’ll stick with mine.” Mr. Abel ran his hands through his hair, his face transitioning into an easy grin. “So how does he work? You said something to him before he jumped me.”
“When I begin the mental reprogramming process, I implement cue words,” Dr. Fowler explained, careful not to give too much away. “In the absence of anything else, the brain latches onto anything it is given. In this case, the trigger words. Once the process is complete, those specific words will place the weapon under the control of whoever speaks them.”
“And his words are…”
“Not for you.” Dr. Fowler folded his arms. “I will make you your own weapons. Kestrel is mine.”
Mr. Abel shrugged. “Sure.”
The man seemed to have gotten over his fear, approaching Kestrel- although, Dr. Fowler noticed, he did not touch the weapon this time. “So what are his limits?” he asked. “I mean, he’s the prototype of mine, right? What can he do?”
“Anything you command.”
“Could I order him to fetch me a vodka with lime?”
“Kestrel is not some sort of personal butler,” Dr. Fowler said, his smile disappearing. “Kestrel is a weapon, perfectly designed for that purpose and that purpose alone. Not a toy for a rich man’s amusement.”
“Could you make one that is?”
Dr. Fowler sighed. “If that is what you would like, I can do it. I suppose you want it to be beautiful, barely clothed, and enamored with you, as well?”
The billionaire grinned. “If it’s not too much trouble.”
Self-obsessed fool.
“Do you always make them…animal hybrids?”
“Yes. It tends to be more stable when I do that, and as I said before it helps the reprogramming process. I have tried many kinds, on many candidates. Kestrel has the DNA of a species of vulture.”
“That where the wings came from?” Mr. Abel walked around to look at the weapon’s back, where the wings protruded from the shoulder blades.
“The wings were originally from a California condor,” Dr. Fowler answered. “I grafted them into Kestrel. DNA can do many things, but it cannot give something wings. The talons and the eyes, yes. The wings required help.”
“Huh.” Mr. Abel looked sufficiently impressed. As much as he disliked the billionaire, Dr. Fowler had still hoped to take his breath away with his demonstration, and it seemed as though he had been successful. “So how many of these weapons can you make for me?”
“How much time do you have?” Dr. Fowler asked instead of answering directly.
Mr. Abel frowned. “Why does time matter?”
“Do you think it is an easy thing to create one of my masterpieces? That I can snap my fingers or hold up a swaying pendant and they’ll be ready to do whatever I command? The human will is the most stubborn force on this planet, Mr. Abel. To break it into splinters and scrape it out, to fill the empty mold back up with your desires, to make sure the vessel does not shatter under the pressure- it takes time.”
“How much time?”
“Months.”
“What?”
Dr. Fowler continued as if he hadn’t heard. “And of course, I must have the perfect candidate. I have tried this method again and again. All attempts ended in disaster. Some subjects did not survive the initial operation. Some lasted longer, but the strain of being reprogrammed was too much for them, and they died or became comatose. Some survived reprogramming, but as empty shells that could not move without being commanded, that had to be told to even breathe. It took years, Mr. Abel, years of failure, before I finally succeeded with Kestrel. But I think you’ll agree that the results are worth the effort.”
“Where do you get candidates?”
Dr. Fowler shrugged. “Kestrel is an excellent hunter. I sometimes have him bring them to me, but that tends to draw too much attention. I prefer more subtle methods. Money is a splendid lure. People who have no other option will gladly submit themselves to scientific study for the mere promise of cash in their hand. Though, of course, they stop having a use for money long before I would have to pay them.”
“You’re really committed to this, Doc.”
Dr. Fowler pinned the man with a look. “This is my life’s work, Mr. Abel. I am as devoted to it as a mother to her child. No force on this earth could sway me from this path. No amount of begging or bribery, threats or tears, no amount of opposition can stop me once I begin my work. It is not an easy road to walk, but I walk it, and it does not matter what obstacles are placed in my way. I have set out to create the perfect living weapons. That is what I will do, no matter how many tries takes. No matter how many bodies I have to bury. I will suceed.” Abruptly the smile returned to his face. “I have succeeded, with Kestrel. Though of course there are always improvements that can be made.”
“So how do I do this, when I get mine? What happens if he disobeys?”
“My weapons cannot disobey.”
“Okay, what about when he does something I want?”
“What do you mean?”
Mr. Abel shrugged. “If I tell him to do something and he does it. Do I click a button, or give him a reward or something?”
Dr. Fowler smiled humorlessly. “Yes, he gets a reward.” He trailed his gloved fingers down the side of Kestrel’s face, ghosting over the blindfold. He was always careful to avoid touching Kestrel with his bare hands- skin-to-skin contact could have an adverse affect on the training.
“What kind of reward?” Mr. Abel wanted to know.
“He gets to live.” Dr. Fowler moved his hand lower, wrapping it around Kestrel’s throat. He didn’t squeeze. He didn’t have to. Kestrel knew he could. That was enough.
“I do not tolerate disobedience, Mr. Abel. If one of my creations fails me, I destroy it, and start again with a new base. There is never a shortage of test subjects in this city.”
It was, at least partially, a bluff. Dr. Fowler did not get attached to his creations, but Kestrel was his first true success. It would take a failure of great magnitude for him to start over. There were other ways to discipline a weapon.
Mr. Abel was grinning. “So far, Doc, I’m seeing no drawbacks.”
Dr. Fowler replaced the hood over Kestrel’s head, gesturing Mr. Abel towards the staircase. This time he let the billionaire go first, all the way back down to the ground floor. “What do you think?” he asked.
Mr. Abel hummed, stroking his chin. “I think this could be the beginning of a beautiful partnership. I’ll have one of my lawyers write up a contract-“ at Dr. Fowler’s warning glance, he held up a hand. “And I’ll leave out any details to keep your secrecy. You can add those in yourself.”
“That is appreciated.”
“But I want one more thing in exchange, Doc. I like what I’ve seen so far, I do. And I love the idea of having my own personal weapon who will do anything I tell it to.” He folded his arms, and suddenly the foolish billionaire seemed slightly less so. “Your Kestrel. I want to see him fly. Tomorrow morning.”
“You- what?” Dr. Fowler was not often taken aback. But this request sent him reeling a little. “Kestrel isn’t used to flight. I don’t send him out often, and then always under cover of darkness.”
“Exactly. I want to see the reaction to him, if there is one. If the government has a conniption fit and comes down on you, I don’t want to be involved.” He spoke bluntly, without shading the truth. Dr. Fowler grudgingly appreciated that. “And I want to see those wings in action. You can send him out early enough that there won’t be many people on the beach. But I want to see what he does when he’s away from you. No offense, but I’m betting he takes off.”
Dr. Fowler pressed his lips into a thin smile. There were still some things this man didn’t know. “All right, Mr. Abel. I will take you up on that bet. Tomorrow morning, I will send Kestrel out. And we’ll see what happens then.”
Mr. Abel returned his smile. “We will, won’t we?”
They shook hands on it.
#whump#living weapon whumpee#dehumanization#lab whump#avian whumpee#medical whump#creepy whumper#whump writing#my writing#jack be whumpy
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Changes: A ONiC One-Shot
Series: One Night in Cordonia, a @choicesprompts Round Robin Event.
Fandom: TRR mostly
CRACKSHIP ALERT: Drake x Bertrand
Word Count: 1,593
Rating: NSFW
Warnings: Lemons 🍋🍋🍋
A/N: This pairing was initiated by @harleybeaumont during the round robin event titled One Night in Cordonia. I cannot remember who requested it or if it's something @harleybeaumont and I thought up during one of our epic late night discussions. Either way, it somehow got brought up today and I went to send her the little bit of it that has been sitting in my WiP folder forever, but once I opened the Word doc, I decided to add a few quick details and then just kept going until it was finished. 🙃
This was not the writing project I had intended to work on today, but I don't get to choose where the inspiration strikes.
It's pure smut. Just so you know.
The rest of my stuff can be found here.
Bertrand stood in the Beaumont study, surveying the damage and contemplating the last several weeks.
The terrorist group responsible for the attack had been rounded up, and the authorities had finally left. He was happy to reclaim his study from Bastien. They had left the room in disarray, and he set about tidying it up.
He was kneeling on the floor, examining a discolored spot on the carpet and muttering about the King's Guard's complete lack of decorum with the door to the study opened. Whoever it was hadn't even bothered to knock.
Bertrand leapt to his feet with indignation, "This is a private room! Have you no manners?"
An amused voice answered him. "No need to get up on my account."
Bertrand paled and took a step back as Drake ambled into the room like he owned the place. Shutting the door behind him, he ignored Bertrand's outburst about manners and smirked at him. "I like the way you look on your knees."
"I…don't know what you're trying to imply—"
"What?" Amusement danced across his face as he took in the other man's discomfort. "Have you forgotten the last time you were on your knees in front of me?"
The lord of Ramsford flushed from the top of his head down to the tips of his toes. Burning with shame and, distressingly, desire, he stuttered out an answer. "I…. Of course not! I mean…. That's not what I—"
Drake took a step toward him with a smirk. "You were really good at it."
"I…that…." Bertrand took another step back, bumping into a bookshelf and sending a miniature statue of a horse crashing to the ground.
Drake continued his advance until he stood directly in front of the duke, blocking any chance of a dignified retreat. "Why are you so nervous?"
"I'm not!" Bertrand gulped loudly, belying his statement.
"No?" The bigger man shifted his weight slightly as he rested a hand on either side of his intended target.
Bertrand's eyes widened as shock, fear, and undeniable excitement flooded through him. He didn't trust his voice, so he simply shook his head.
A soft scoff issued from Drake as his eyes traced his face, settling on the set of lips that had brought him so much pleasure just a few weeks before.
He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it.
It was true that they had both been under the influence of some type of chemical that removed sexual inhibitions, but the fact remained that those impulses had to exist in the first place in order to be inhibited.
His disdain for Max's older brother had always masked a deeper emotion. Sexual attraction to other men wasn't new to him, but the realization that he had always been drawn to this particular man was.
"Tell me you don't want this." Drake's hand caressed Bertrand's cheek. "If you don't want me to kiss you right now, tell me to stop." He paused, giving the other man plenty of time to protest.
For a heartbeat, they stood frozen in time, face to face, staring into each other's eyes. Then Bertrand went weak in the knees as his eyes fluttered shut and his head tipped slightly up, lips parted, inviting the kiss.
Drake's lips crashed into his and he was falling, tumbling into a vast unknown, terror and exhilaration colliding inside him.
Bertrand Beaumont had never been good with women. He didn't understand what they wanted, he didn't understand how to attract them. He had never felt much of a pull to them at all. But this. This was different.
He had kissed a handful of women in his time. Their lips had been soft and yielding and the entire experience had been somehow wrong and off putting. His previous experiences with kissing had been nothing like this. This kiss was rough and demanding, the stubble that scratched his face sent red hot flames licking through him. His hands reached out to grasp not soft flesh, but hard muscles. He whimpered helplessly as his body reacted. His rock hard erection was evident as Drake's body pushed into his.
He wanted to die of shame until he realized that Drake was having the exact same reaction. Their cocks pressed against each other through the fabric of their pants as their hips ground against each other.
Bertrand had never felt another man's cock pressed against his own before, much less while it was hard. The thought that Drake was hard because of him was almost more than he could bear. Desire burned all the embarrassment out of him as he begged for more. "Please… I need—"
Before he could finish the thought, strong hands spun him around and jerked him sidewise away from the bookshelf, and pressed him against the wall. His pants were yanked down his body, leaving his ass bare and his dick throbbing. A foot forced his legs apart as a finger found his puckered hole. His mind was so clouded with lust that he barely registered some sort of lube being applied before a finger probed inside him. Warm breath tickled his ear as a voice rough with desire whispered in his ear. "How does that feel?"
"So good…" he gasped out as an ecstasy he had never imagined washed over him.
A soft kiss landed on the back of his neck. "I'm going to fuck you now. Hold still."
Bertrand's eyes squeezed shut as his body vibrated with pleasure and anticipation. "Yes…. Please…."
A feral growl broke free from Drake's throat at the pleading tone of the man trembling under his touch. It was all he could do to keep himself from slamming into him. Instead, he inserted himself slowly and gently, sliding in an inch at a time, giving the other man a chance to adjust.
A cry of ecstasy was torn from him as Drake hit the prostate.
His name falling from Bertrand's lips was the end of his restraint. No longer gentle, he moved his body at a more desperate pace, pulling himself out and shoving back into the man who was now writhing frantically beneath him.
Bertrand's feet tried to come out from under him as all the strength left his body. Blackness clouded the edges of his vision as the pleasure became all encompassing. A hand closed around his cock and stars exploded across his field of vision as the orgasm overtook him.
Drake slammed into him one last time with a roar, pinning his body to the wall as he emptied himself into him. He kept his body pressed into him until his cock finished pulsing.
When he finally stepped away, Bertrand was left with his pants in an undignified tangle around his ankles, a pleasurable soreness and the proof of what had just transpired leaking out of him. He turned to face the man who had just taken his innocence and awakened desires in him that he had not known he possessed, tripping over his tangled pants as he did so.
"Whoa there!" Drake caught him and then stepped back with a satisfied smirk as he fastened his own pants.
Hyperaware of Drake's eyes on him, he scrambled to redress himself, ignoring the sticky mess on his backside. Not knowing what to say, his eyes dropped to the floor as both mortification and gratification pinged through him at what had just transpired.
"Hey." Drake's finger found his chin and lifted his head. With a smile more tender than he had ever seen on his face, he told him, "You did great."
The mortification drained out of him, pride and happiness taking its place. "Really?"
"Really." He looked closer at Bertrand's expression. "Wait. Was that your first time with a man?"
Bertrand's eyes fell once again to the floor. "My first time….with anyone." Kissing women had been bad enough, he had never been able to push himself further with any of them.
Drake's eyes widened in surprise. "I'm sorry. I didn't know—"
"What?" Bertrand's head snapped up in alarm at the regret in Drake's voice. "Don't be sorry! That was…. It was… you were…. I mean…"
The smile returned to Drake's face as understanding dawned on him. "It's okay. You don't have to say anything else. I'm glad you liked it."
The alarm on Bertrand's phone went off, bringing him back to reality. "Apologies. I'm needed at a budgetary meeting soon."
"No problem. I have shit to do, too. See you around."
Panic sliced through him as he watched Drake make it to the door. "Wait!"
Drake paused and turned around. "Yeah?"
Bertrand fought against the tidal wave of insecurity and anxiety that threatened to silence him. For once in his life, he was going to ask for what he wanted. "Is there any chance we could… um…. " He faltered as embarrassment threatened to pull him under.
A grin pulled Drake's lips up as he watched Bertrand stumble over his words. He decided to put him out of his misery. "Are you asking if we can do this again?"
"Yeah." If he said no, Bertrand was going to drop right through the floor.
"You can count on it." Drake thumped the edge of the door frame on his way out, humming happily as he strolled down the hall.
Bertrand slumped against the wall as relief and disbelief surged through him.
He had no idea what this all meant. No idea what tomorrow would bring. There was only one thing that he knew for certain.
Everything was going to be different now.
#the royal romance#trr#the royal romance fanfic#drake walker#bertrand beaumont#angelasscribbles#choices fic writers creations#cfwc fics of the week#choices#choices stories you play#Drake x Bertrand#I blame harleybeaumont for this
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Simon Ghost Riley x Reader (The Living Kill Too) Ch5
Ghost was driving as fast as he could given the conditions of the roads. You were trying to stay conscious as blood continued to seep from the bullet wound in your thigh. Ghost would occasionally glance your way to see how you were doing. Josie was trying to keep Jack looking out the window. Jack seemed very happy looking out the window and was pointing out things asking for their names. Josie was confused when Jack seemed cross with her so you spoke up, “Truck”.
That seemed to help you focus so you continued to name things for Jack as he tried repeating them. “How you doin’ luv?”, Ghost asked. “I’m okay just trying to stave off the pain”, you chuckled. You could see the mask he wore move and knew he had to have grinned. “Don’t worry we’ll be there in a couple hours”, Ghost replied. About a half hour before reaching the base you started feeling light headed.
You swayed a little as Ghost looked over at you. “Luv?”, he questioned. “I’m alright. I just feel light headed”, you reply. “Stay awake dove”, he replied. You tried your hardest but there was no way to keep your eyes open as you fell against his shoulder. “Oh my gosh what do we do?”, Josie panicked. “Stay calm and check her pulse ya know how ta’ do that right?”, Ghost instructed. “Yeah I can do that”, she replied.
“It seems fine”, Josie said. “The adrenaline finally wore off”, Ghost guessed. “She’ll make it right?”, Josie asked. “I think so”, Ghost responded. The dream was peaceful this time as you walked through the house you and Kane had shared. It was peaceful outside, no dead roaming about as you heard a noise up in the bedroom. “Kane?”, you called. You slowly made your way to the bedroom and opened the door.
There was a silhouette at the window looking out into the back yard. “Kane?”, you asked. The figure turned and you backpedaled so hard as the figure turned to look at you. It was Kane all grotesque as his maw opened. “You left me to die”, it said. “No I tried but there were too many of them”, you cried. “No you let me die for that guy in the mask”, he growls. “I didn’t know him until after you died I swear!”, you yelled.
“LIAR!”, he screeched. It lunged at you as you scrambled for the stairs, and as you hit the stairs he collided with you as you both fell down the stairs. Your head was swimming as you tried to figure out what was happening. Then that thing that looked like Kane reared its ugly head and opened its jaws wide. The teeth sunk into your thigh as white hot searing pain shot through your leg. You screamed as whatever was happening started to become fuzzy.
You sat straight up screaming in pain as you started reaching for your leg. “Grab hold of her”, you heard someone say. The scene was bloody as you could feel more pain coming from your thigh. Then all at once everything hit you as you remembered being shot in the thigh. Strong arms wrapped around your upper body to hold you still. “Easy luv. The doc is just tryin’ to stitch ya’ up”, a voice close to your ear whispered huskily.
You realized it was Ghost and that voice would have been sexy as hell had it not been for another stinging pain shooting up your leg. “I told you we should have sedated her”, the doctor said. “No, save it for someone who will need it”, you replied. “Fine then you're going to have to sit still. I already stitched the exit wound”, the doctor replied. You grasped Ghost's arm and gripped as hard as possible when the pain would sting.
If you were hurting or making Ghost uncomfortable he never let on as the doctor continued to stitch your leg up. Once he was finished you let Ghost go and he let you relax and moved to stand beside you. “You alright luv?”, he asked. You nodded as you remembered your nightmare and started to heave. Like lightning, Ghost had grabbed a can to hand to you as you kept heaving. You could feel him take your hair into his hand as you lost anything and everything in your stomach.
“I’m sorry”, you whispered. Ghost stood there as the doctor checked you over, but as soon as the doctor deemed you okay he left to see other patients. “It wasn’t the pain that made you sick”, Ghost stated. How he knew you had no clue, but you nodded at his statement. “Nightmare”, he said. You nodded again as Ghost pulled a chair out and sat down beside you. “They won’t go away will they”, you say. “No, not entirely”, Ghost replies.
“You have them”, you state. He nods as you come to terms with the fact this is now a part of your life. “They ever get easier?”, you question. “Some do and some don’t. I was told it depends on the trauma, but I think it’s all shite. I think it depends”, he replies. “Depends on what?”, you ask. “On the person and how they deal with it. Do they let it control them or do they use it as fuel to keep going. From what I've seen you will use it as fuel”, he says.
You look him in the eye and hold his gaze and if his gaze doesn’t do things to you. He can tell you’re a fighter he knew that at the beginning. Now after what happened to you he knows that you will come out better than he had with his experiences. “Thank you”, you whisper. “I ‘ave something to tend to luv. Soap will be coming to check on ya’.”, he tells you. You only nod and watch as he leaves until he is out of sight.
True to Ghost’s words about fifteen minutes later Soap comes sauntering into your room. “Aye there’s the lass that toughed bein’ stitched up”, he says jovially. “Hi Soap, How’s your wound?”, you ask. He shows it to you and it already looks like it will leave a nice scar. “Be careful Soap ladies see that scar or any others and you’ll have to fight them off with a stick”, you joke. He laughs at that and sits down to talk to you. He tells you that the man Ghost brought back is being held in the cells and asks what it’s all about.
You don’t tell him what happened to you, but tell him Josie’s story and how that man deserves worse than a cell to sit in. “Well by the looks of L.T. when he went by seems like that man will be praying for death”, Soap said. “L.T.?”, you questioned. “Yeah ye know for Lieutenant. It’s what I called ‘im be’fer the world went to shite”, Soap explains. “I didn’t know he was a lieutenant. What rank are you if you don’t mind?”, you question. “Sargeant”, he replies.
You nod as you tell him about your time as a MOS (Military Occupational Specialty also known as a medic). Soap listens intently as you recount some of the missions you went on. Then he tells you about his time in Las Almas and how he and Ghost had to resort to guerrilla warfare. “Glad he waited for you”, you told him. “Me too lass, me too”, he replied. Price even made a stop to see how you were and thanked you for all the supplies you had gotten to bring back.
You managed to fall asleep into a dreamless sleep this time. When you woke up Ghost was propped up in the corner watching you. “Ghost”, you acknowledged. “Got somethin’ you need to see luv. We were able to make you some crutches. I also brought you some clean clothes”, he tells you. You graciously accept the new clothes as you change the shirt you were wearing first while keeping your bra on.
You had difficulty with the boxer and sweatpants so you called for Ghost who had ducked behind the curtain to let you change. He came in and stopped suddenly seeing you in his oversized shirt. The feeling in his chest was something he hadn’t had in such a long time. He had to admit you looked gorgeous even though you were a little disheveled. You looked up at him wondering why he wasn’t helping you.
He was frozen, his eyes locked on you and you wondered what was going through his head. While his head screamed at him ‘Mine’ with you staring at him bewildered. He also knew you had no panties on as they were lying on the hospital bed and he could already feel something he hadn’t felt in a very very long time…arousal. It started down his spine then to the rest of his extremities. He had to will himself not to get hard as if he was some horny teenager.
“Ghost, can I get some help?”, you asked again. That got him moving as he kneeled down maintaining eye contact helping slide on the boxers. He could feel the heat of your skin through his gloves and he wondered what it would feel like without his gloves. He then helped you into the sweatpants that he had to pull the draw strings tight just to hang loosely on your hips. You started to laugh as you realized they must be a pair of his sweats as they were exceptionally long on you.
“Ghost I don’t think I’m as tall as you”, you giggled. Your giggles and seeing you in yet another item of his clothing he had to close his eyes and think of something awful to keep from getting hard. His mind kept screaming ‘mine mine mine’ as your fingers wrapped around his hand. “Ghost are you okay?”, you asked concerned. “I’m alright luv”, he told you. He bent down to help roll the pant legs up and it looked downright comical, but you weren’t going to complain because they smelled like him.
“Come on luv”, he told you. You tried to keep up with him, but it was even harder now that you were on crutches. He would stop and wait when you fell too far behind as you made your way through the mazes of hallways then to the outside. It was dark and it was cool tonight which made you shiver slightly. He led you what felt like halfway across the base when you both came to a smaller building. Ghost opened the door and ushered me in as I hobbled inside the stench of blood hit my nostrils.
I looked back to Ghost as he locked the door behind him. “What are we doing here?”, you asked. He doesn’t say anything, just motions for you to follow him. You can hear someone begging and pleading to be let go as you get closer to a door with a bright light coming from under the door. When Ghost opens the door and steps in the person starts screaming for help. When you hobble through the door you recognize the person immediately. The one who raped you and terrified Josie.
The anger that flashed in your eyes is what Ghost was waiting to see. “You remember ‘er?”, Ghost asks the man. “Please no more”, the man begs. “Answer the question”, Ghost growls. The man takes one look at you and flies off the handle. “You fucking bitch look what he did to me because of you!”, he shrieks. “Wrong answer”, Ghost says. Fear flashes in the man's eyes as Ghost walks to the back of the room bringing a rolling tray full of instruments beside you.
“Pick one”, Ghost says. You look at the assortment of tools that range from pliers, jumper cables, brass knuckles, crow bar, cloth beside a jug of water, small metal rods, hammer, nails, drill, screws and some other things. You looked at Ghost questioningly as you pointed at the drill. He picks it up and grabs a couple of screws as the man starts yelling for help.
Ghost makes sure the strap around the man’s wrist is tight as he makes the man's hand lay flat. He places a screw on a fingernail and places the drill over it. You know what is about to happen, but instead of feeling disgusted and turning away you continue to watch as Ghost drills the screw through the man’s finger. The screams and pleas are like music to your ears. When Ghost stops the man tries to regain his composure as he cries. “Now you know what it’s like”, you say. It startles Ghost a moment when you speak almost as if he had forgotten you were there.
“What the fuck are you talking about bitch”, the man says. “Remember when you raped me. I begged and screamed for you to stop, but you didn’t so why should we stop”, you say. Ghost looks up at you and you swear he grins under that mask. “Another finger Ghost”, you say. Ghost does as you say and the screaming starts all over again. When Ghost stops he watches you to see what you want him to do.
“The crowbar”, you say. Ghost had made a vow that he would do anything to protect you after what happened. He picked up the crowbar looking back at you for your instruction. “Knees”, you relay. Ghost nods as the man is begging for it all to stop as Ghost brings the crowbar down to the first knee. Ghost waits until the man stops screaming then breaks the other knee cap. You watch as you realize that something dark in you was breaking free.
All the power this man thought he held was now in your hands and at the hands of Ghost. Ghost knew the power you were feeling right now. He had felt the same power when he killed Roba and the darkness that consumed him. Ghost could tell you wouldn’t turn out as dark and as fucked up as he is, but that this small darkness would follow you for the rest of your life. “Jumper cables”, you say next.
Ghost lifted a battery and grabbed the jumper cables. “YOU CAN’T DO THIS!”, the man yelled. Ghost was about to respond, but you spoke first. “We can and we will for as long as I can until I decide to feed you to those deadheads out there. Do you know what it’s like to be ripped apart while you’re still alive? I do. I have seen what those things can do and they don’t care as long as they can eat”, you seeth. The man turned to Ghost, “You can’t just feed me to those things! Please. It’s inhumane!”, he sobbed.
“Not up to me. If that’s what she decides that’s what’ll happen to ya”, Ghost told him. The man started to curse at you and spit at you. Ghost hooked up the jumper cables and grabbed the two ends and held them to the man’s hands. Screams continued to fill the room for at least fifteen minutes until the screaming stopped and the man’s body slumped forward. Ghost unhooks the battery and checks the man’s pulse.
“Must ‘ave been too much for ‘im, but he’s still alive”, Ghost says. “Thank you for this. It won’t give me back what he took, but it’s a start”, you say. Ghost nods and leads you back outside as the chill of the night hits you. “I don’t want to stay in that hospital room again”, you said. “Come on”, Ghost says. He leads you to what you make out to be the barracks, but you pass all the rooms with bunks to a corridor with doors.
Ghost goes to the end of the hall and unlocks a door looking around before ushering you inside. When you get in you can see a cloth balaclava on the desk in the corner and all the tactical gear you knew this was his room. “You can ‘ave the bed”, he states. “I can’t take your bed”, you whisper. “I can take the floor”, Ghost replies. You go to protest again, but the look Ghost gives you shuts you up. You put your crutches in the corner and start to hobble to the bed to sit down, but freeze in your tracks when Ghost pulls his shirt over his head.
He is ripped, broad and holy shit those shoulders have you almost drooling. You watch as he holds his mask in place as he pulls off his shirt and you quickly look away. Your cheeks were burning as you sat down on the bed. He pulls on a black t-shirt as you watch out of your peripheral. “I should leave. I just realized this is your only space for you to be maskless and Soap told me how you don’t like to take it off in front of people”, you ramble. “I can sleep in it”, he says. “That isn’t fair to you”, you respond.
You both sit there and then an idea comes to you as you get up and grab the shirt Ghost had just taken off. You go back to the bed and take the shirt rolling it and make it into a blindfold. “There this way I can turn towards the wall and have something over my eyes”, you tell him. You do just as you said and lay down under the covers and face the wall. Ghost stands there completely dumbfounded with you.
You barely know him and even after what had happened to you that you were willing to blindfold yourself for his sake. He turned the light off as the room went black. He lays down on the floor and listens as you slow your breathing to relax. He listened until your breathing evened out and that was when he decided to pull his mask off and lay it beside him on the small roll out mat he was laying on falling asleep pretty quickly.
The nightmare was horrid as you were back in the house tied down to the bed. You were thrashing and whimpering as the nightmare continued until you started crying out for it to stop. Ghost shot awake with your cries and realized what was happening. He grabbed your flailing arms and called to you. “Luv it’s jus’ a dream. Wake up luv wake up”, he calls. You wake then and you're frantic until you hear Ghosts voice telling you that you’re safe.
You're sobbing by the time you're fully awake as Ghost pulls you to his chest cradling your head to his chest. You cling to him like a lifeline as you try to regulate your breathing. “Calm down luv I wouldn’t let anythin’ hurt ya’ while you're in my room”, he says. You focus on his gravelly voice from being asleep to help ground you and focus. Once you're finished you pull back realizing you were still wearing your blindfold.
“I guess we should go back to sleep. I’m sorry for waking you up”, you tell him. “It’s alrigh’ luv”, he replies. He goes to move away from the bed when you grab his arm. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor”, you whisper. Ghost tenses under your touch and has an internal war with himself about sleeping beside you in the bed. You trembled and Ghost made up his mind as he lay down on his side as you faced the wall again.
You were trying to give him enough space as he placed his arm under your head. You fell asleep quickly at that point as Ghost tried to calm his racing heart. He couldn’t recall the last time he ever had a woman in his bed and he was so worried about moving even the slightest bit in fear of waking you up. He stayed awake for at least another hour before he was able to sleep as well.
#simon ghost riley x reader#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#simon ghost riley#captain john price#cod zombie au
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Dragon 1/2
Found the plot and a short drabble in my google docs and wanted to finish it! Couldn't find the original ask, but I have delivered! Second part comes out tomorrow
Soap had found him deep in the woods. He had heard of something had been seen and he wanted to look for the creature causing issues. From the reports, he had a feeling it was a small wyvern or maybe a kelpie. It had been stealing sheep and other small livestock to eat, so he doubted it was anything too powerful. While he could leave this to his knights, he wanted to get out of the castle for a bit.
So for him to find a sleeping dragon, tucked in an abandoned farmhouse, curled up tight, was more than a little surprising. Usually dragons didn't bother with livestock, but Soap could see the bones of the creatures he had eaten all scattered about.
Soap noticed a large gash on his side and realized what the problem was. With a wound that size, the poor thing was probably trying to get what it considered easy pickings.
Slowly, painstakingly, he got on the ground in front of him. His kingdom had many religions, most revolving around the inherent divinity of dragons. They were majestic. The blending of humanity, nature and the divine. All of those features were very prominent in the creature before him, even injured and sleeping.
Massive paws, tipped with giant claws. Wings that filled the entire barn with just enough room for his body. Beautiful black iridescent scales that made red ripples when the light ran over them, complete with gold cracking from where the wound was as well as a couple of other scars. Gorgeous. His eyes were a stunningly dark color. Pools of ichor with flecks of color in them. The pupils were barely recognizable as pupils, just a thin vertical line.
Eyes.
Soap jerked back but the beast’s tail had already blocked the exit he had just went to. It stared at him, clearly thinking.
Intelligence was another thing. Most people believed that dragons had knowledge that escaped human grasp. Something about them felt so ethereal it wouldn’t shock Soap if it was true. But that did not and could not erase the fact that dragons ate people. And Soap was certainly people.
The dragon considered him for a moment before lowering his tail and returning to resting. “You should leave.” His voice was hoarse and scratchy from disuse.
Soap hesitated. “You’re not healing.”
“Poisoned arrows. Still working through the poison.” He lowered his head on his to paws again. The feathers along his head lowered. They were scant, just a few along the barbs. Which meant this dragon was rather young as they lost their feathers as they got older. Probably just reached adult age.
Just like Soap! His 19th birthday had passed a week prior. This dragon must be around his age. Possibly a little older.
“Maybe I could help?” Soap moved closer.
The dragon opened his eyes. “How could you help me?” He looked down at Soap like he was a bug. An inconvenience.
“I could bandage you up. See if I have anything that will help in my kingdom.” Soap got closer. He wanted to assist him. Dragon or not. He was hurt.
He growled and narrowed his eyes. “Do not come closer.”
Soap paused. “I… Okay. What if I bring you supplies?”
“That would be… acceptable.”
“My name is Johnny but everyone calls me Soap..”
“...Simon.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Simon.” Soap smiled at him. “Don’t leave, alright?” He started to step back.
Simon narrowed his eyes but slowly, achingly relaxed back onto his paws. “How do I know you won’t bring someone else here to kill me?”
“I’d never do that! You may have stolen some things, but it was clearly from need.” Soap raised his hands, praying he would believe him. “I’ll even bring you more food.”
Simon looked very suspicious but he nodded. “I’ll stay. But just for a little while…”
Soap beamed. “I’ll be right back!!” He rushed off to get supplies.
Only after coming back with two backpacks, stuffed to the brim, did he consider maybe that was overkill.
Simon had shifted back.
Soap blushed and quickly looked away.
“Something wrong, Johnny?” Simon asked, stretching himself out among the hay. His wings had blocked it before but the majority of the left side of the roof had been damaged. The sun was spilling out all over his very naked body.
“Do you have no modesty?” Soap sounded aghast. Simon had his wings still, but they were lounging around his body. Not moving to cover it. Soap kept his eyes firmly on Simon’s face.
Simon looked amused. “Why? I am wearing just as much as I was before. I simply changed forms.”
Soap shook his head. “This form is… is…”
“It is your form!” Simon frowned. “Under all of those clothes. You’d look just like me.”
“Yes, but I’m wearing clothes!”
Simon snorted and looked away, crossing his arms. “You said you’d help me. Get on with it.”
Soap glared and moved closer, still focusing on his face.
Simon sighed and raised the arm on his injured side up above his head and used the other to cover himself. “There. Modesty.” He said it with such sarcasm that Soap wanted to snap at him.
“I’m a Prince you know. You’re not being very respectful of royalty.”
“You’re the one asking me to be unnatural and wear clothing. Are you not disrespecting divinity by doing so?” Simon purred.
Soap poured water over the wound. “I think there may pieces of arrows still… in the wound… That may be why you still haven’t healed.”
Simon frowned and deflated a bit. “I’m going to have to let you dig it out… Fucking hell.” He tilted his head back, exposing his throat. “Alright. Go for it.”
“What?? I’m not… I don’t have the… experience to do this!”
“C’mon, little Prince. Hurry up. Explain why it still hurts so much.”
“You cannot be serious! You weren’t even sure if you’d stay until I got back and you’re going to let me just dig around in your wounds??” Soap was hoping he’d see sense and change his mind.
Simon smiled. “You got it! Get to it, Johnny.” He had a beautiful smile. It lit up the entire room and Soap was sure it was some sort of dragon magic he wasn’t aware of. He was wrong. Simon just looked like that.
Soap sighed and got closer. “Alright. You’re crazy.” He moved to get a better angle, pulling out a knife. “One of the pieces are in deep. Let me get these little shards first. Think you can stay still for me?”
“Sure. And if you hurt me too bad, I’ll just break you in half.”
Soap nodded immediately and got to work. “How old are you?”
“21 years. You?”
“19.” He had guessed right! “What brings you to this area?”
“I was fleeing the North. There are some real assholes there.” Simon winced and then pressed back into his hands to correct himself. It meant that Soap’s palm came into direct contact with his skin which surprised him.
“You run hot. Always thought dragons ran cold.”
“Misconception. Thanks to the fire in us, we’re technically warm blooded.”
Soap hummed. “The thing that lets you breathe fire right?”
Simon pursed his lips and blew out a perfect smoke ring. “Yeah. Exactly.”
When he did that, a spot in his throat glowed faintly. Since it was just smoke, it wasn’t very noticeable, but it was clearly there.
Soap focused on the task at hand again, but he planned to ask some questions once they were out. He pulled out the little wooden splinters before grabbing the metal tip. “This may hurt a bit.”
“What do they say? Pain is beauty?” Simon grinned right before yelping in pain when the arrowhead was fully dislodged. He panted softly as the thing dropped the ground. “Jesus that’s big.”
Soap nodded in agreement and, while Simon was distracted, quickly poured alcohol all over everything. Simon growled immediately and grabbed Soap hard. For a moment, Soap thought he was about to make good on that promise of breaking him in half, but Simon didn’t move any further. He just held him tight and slowly took a deep breath. Then another. And after a moment, he relaxed his grip.
“There ya go. That wasn’t too bad, was it?”
Simon had closed his eyes and it gave Soap a chance to steal a quick glance at him. The dragon was a vision. Dozens of golden scars laced over his body, especially over his chest. His face… He was pretty. So very, very pretty. When he was a kid, his mother insisted he study the ancient arts and one of those included a set of sculptures made to be in the gods’ images. Simon would’ve fit in well among them.
“Thank you.”
“Of course… I also brought more food for you.”
Simon opened his eyes again. “You’re being awfully kind.” His throat glowed again, down his chest.
Soap stared openly this time, too taken back by the fire clearly going under his skin. “What is that?”
“A flame.”
“Fascinating.”
Simon stared for a moment before grabbing Soap’s hand and pressing it to the places that glowed. There was more heat in those areas. It felt extremely pleasant. “Huh.” Soap felt very eloquent with that response. He kept his hand pressed to spot.
“Little prince, you done?”
“One second, ye overgrown lizard.” Soap mumbled and followed the little lines.
“And you tried to talk to me about modesty.” Simon purred, chest vibrating under Soap’s hand. Soap quickly yanked it back.
“I am so so sorry. I sho-”
Simon grabbed one of the backpacks, effectively cutting Soap off with a question. “So you brought me stuff?” He tried to get it open but had a problem with the clasp. His hands were comically big compared to it so he couldn’t quite get it to work. Soap gently took it from him so he could get it open.
He didn’t know what dragons could and couldn’t eat, so it was mostly meat since that was a safe bet. He did bring some bread, cheese, butter, different fruits and… most importantly, rings.
Dragons love rings.
And Simon was no exception. He scooped them all up and quickly started putting them on. Only a few of them fit but Simon held all of them close to his chest, clearly thinking of ways he could wear them. “You have any string?”
Soap fished through his bag. “I brought this in case I needed to sew you up?”
Simon snatched it from his hands and looped all of the rings together so he could wear them as a necklace. He also organized it so they made a rainbow around his neck.
Soap was fascinated with how the knots were made. Simon butted heads with him once he was done. It was careful, like a cat, and it was clear by the soft purring sound that this was an affectionate gesture.
Soap felt like he was getting some look into some hidden language. He was being entrusted with something.
Another thing he was being entrusted with is that Simon was the least picky person he had ever seen. He happily ate everything Soap had. Goat cheese and apples was also a combo he liked. A lot. Simon ate everything Soap had brought which was, again, about two backpacks filled to the brim.
Soap held it upside down and shook it. “Seems I’m all out.”
Simon hummed and stretched, looking tired. He started to close his eyes. Already, the wound had started to look better.
“Let me bandage it and then I’ll be back tomorrow to check it.”
“If I’m here.”
“If you’re here, I’ll bring more food.” Soap promised.
Simon looked up at him from the dusty hay. He narrowed his eyes and his pupils had slid to slits.
Soap leaned over him so he could get to his wound again. Unlike before, Simon didn’t make it easy for him. He was deadweight and half covering the wound.
“C’mon, ya little flame.” Soap gritted out and Simon gasped at him. “Move your ass.”
“How dare you call my flame little.” Simon did twist so Soap could get to the wound. He started to bandage it and put some extra tape over it in case he moved a lot.
Soap patted his side like he was a horse that had been particularly good that day. “Don’t be so difficult next time and I’ll say it’s big yeah?”
Simon growled but most of the initial fear was already gone. It was funny. Soap felt like they just… clicked. Being around this dragon in the woods felt strangely normal.
So he came again the next day with more food. He ignored that there were a couple more bones in the bone pile. They had been picked clean at least, nothing there to rot.
Simon still looked human. Other than the giant wings of course. He sat up, stretching and shaking himself out. “Little prince!”
“Little Flame.”
“That’ll do.” Simon turned on his back, feeling the heat from the sun on his stomach.
Soap smiled and went to his side, checking under the bandages. Accelerated healing was not a joke. Without those pieces making it worse, already things were starting to look better.
Simon threw one of the bags at him and sat up. “Hungry.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Soap opened it and handed it back over. Simon happily started to eat as Soap continued to look at the wound. If he watched closely, he could see some of the skin stitching together. “Fascinating.”
Simon hummed. “Thank you. We have to have pretty intense healing abilities.”
“I brought you something extra special this time.”
Simon perked up, excited. That excitement was immediately ruined by Johnny throwing pants at him. “Seriously? Does the naked human form offend you that much?”
“Yes.”
Simon grumbled but he slid them on. They were leather, from the guard’s wing, and tight. He twisted himself and Soap could hear it tense and pop before something in them tore. Luckily, it seemed to just be a few threads because Simon relaxed and he was still covered.
He continued to happily eat everything he could. There’s this soft and sweet air about him. Gentle. What an odd thought.
Simon looked over at him, mouth full of food. He grinned stupidly. “Why are dragons so amazing at making music?”
Soap frowned. “I didn’t know you guys were good at music.”
“It’s because we really know our scales.”
Johnny blinked before laughing. “Seriously? Didn’t expect you to be a joking person.”
Simon shrugged and looked a little rueful. “Maybe I should’ve let you think I was cool a little longer.” He stretched and smiled before settling next to Johnny. The day had started to get cold so the dragon’s body heat was pleasant against him.
Simon continued to eat his snacks as Soap just soaked in his presence.
“It must be weird.” Simon started, tracing Johnny’s spine. “Having no wings. Do you ever feel off balance?”
Johnny shivered. “What?”
“Does your back look naked without wings?”
“No?”
Simon hummed and tried to lift up Johnny’s shirt. “Then what do you look like?”
“I… um…”
He tugged at his clothes. “Let me just see!”
“No!!” Johnny was aghast. He didn’t know why this scandalized him quite so much. He had went shirtless around tons of people. Whether it was just that Simon was… Simon or maybe that he was being asked, it felt different.
Simon groaned. “I’ve never gotten a good look at a human before! You’re so… fragile. Your little heartbeat is thumping so loud.”
Johnny had never ever been so utterly offended. “Fragile??”
“Your heart is so loud but you look… you know. Soft.”
“Soft??”
“Yeah. Soft.” Simon grabbed his hand and put it to his chest. “See. I’m hard. You have give.” He wasn’t wrong. There was hard muscle and his skin wasn’t quite as soft. It felt a tiny bit like a snake’s skin even though it looked like human skin.
Johnny could not believe he was being shamed by a dragon for his physique. He was not soft!! Was he??
“It’s not bad. I like it. Never really looked at a human properly. Your skin is also softer.” Simon touched Johnny’s inner wrist, gently feeling his skin. “Really soft. It’s nice.”
Johnny felt like he was going to melt from the heat. Yeah. The heat. Had to be. “Thanks.”
“Why do you humans consider us divine?”
“I guess it’s the fact you can shift between forms. Touch the clouds.” Johnny didn’t really have a solid answer.
“Clouds? Really? What do you think they feel like?” Simon sounded amused, but he was staring at him. His giant brown eyes staring into Johnny’s soul like he’d give him an answer worth listening to.
Johnny hesitated because Simon knew what they felt like. He tried really hard to guess right. “Like cotton?”
Simon smiled. “Nope. Cold and kinda spiky. They’re full of ice crystals.”
“What??”
“Yep.”
Johnny frowned. “I don’t believe you.”
Simon hummed. “I could show you?”
Johnny was expecting a couple of things from this. Maybe something a little romantic. Not for Simon to grab him by his ankle and throw him several feet in the air like he weighed less than a stuffed animal. Before he got a chance to scream or start to fall, Simon was right next to him, batting him further up into the air. It was easily the most frightening thing he had ever experience. The giant dragon that was flying at him at mach speed wasn’t helping.
Once he was above the trees, Simon snapped him up in his jaws and flew straight up until he found a cloud. He went straight above it and
Fucking
Dropped
Him.
Johnny did scream this time as he plummeted through the cloud. Simon followed him luckily and grabbed him properly this time. With his arms. He had shifted back to be human and Johnny had zero clue if he could fly in this condition. They spiraled down together and Johnny worried for just a moment that Simon would crash them to the ground before his wings came out, catching the breeze. He spun them around so fast that Johnny knew the only thing keeping him from getting dizzy was Simon’s eyes boring into his own.
Then he was sent flying back up in the air and Simon shifted back, grabbing and landing on to the trees. Johnny was put on his back as he moved just above the tree line.
He was trying desperately to catch his breath, both full of fear and… exhilaration. That was pretty fun. Maybe his family was right about this adrenaline junky thing.
Johnny kept trying to catch his breath as Simon got them safely on the ground.
“Tell me, do you feel like that was a spiritual experience?”
Johnny took a deep breath. “Yeah. A little.”
“Come back tomorrow.” Simon smiled at him.
“Yeah. I will…” Johnny did come. Every day for weeks. Simon was his little secret.
One day, Johnny was very surprised to find Simon jumping around when he got back. He was very skilled. The way he managed to easily go from the floor to the roof and back to the floor of the farm house. His wings followed along his body, flashing gorgeously.
Johnny watched him for a few minutes until Simon noticed him.
“All healed!”
“Oh! That’s good.”
Oh no. Now would be the perfect time for him leave.
“Now I could take you flying properly. Not the sloppy stuff from before.” Simon grinned at him.
Johnny nodded, already excited. “I’d love to.”
Simon smiled brightly. The sun in his smile. Gorgeous. God he was so gorgeous. He shifted like smoke, sliding underneath Soap and between his legs. When he sat up, Johnny grabbed on to his neck, perched on his back. It didn’t seem quite as scary, even when Simon stood up and he was several feet in the air, because he had Simon solid beneath him.
Simon took off and went high up in the air. His wings spread out wide and as he glided, Johnny could feel the air rushing through his hair. It felt so soft.
“This is so much better!” Johnny yelled at him and Simon only purred in response, lifting up slightly. It started to get cold so he pressed closer to his warm body. Simon spun again as he descended, going in lazy circles around and around and around.
Flying ended too soon. Part of him never ever wanted to leave the air. But his feet were planted back on earth.
Johnny looked at Simon and Simon looked back. It felt different than his subjects. Less respectful but more understanding. Simon understood something about Johnny he didn’t quite understand about himself.
“Thank you.” Johnny said softy, afraid if he was too loud, Simon might take flight and disappear.
“You healed me. Not the other way around.”
Johnny had a feeling Simon did somehow. He just wasn’t sure how yet.
They were so close. So very, very close.
Simon pulled back just a little. “I want…” He looked at his lips. “I…”
“Yes.” Johnny said softly.
Simon kissed him. Soft and sweet. It felt like a first kiss. The first of many hopefully. He tasted like cinnamon. His hands held Johnny closer. Staying firmly on his waist.
Johnny cupped his jaw and finally got to touch his hair. Felt like silk strands. Like they’d run through his fingers. He wanted to cry for some odd reason. Happiness was fickle. Fleeting. And he knew if Simon ever left him, it would feel like the end of everything. End of something. End of Johnny maybe.
Simon panted against his mouth, their breath still mingling. “My little Prince.”
“My Dragon.”
Simon grinned before diving back in. Johnny would’ve went further. Would’ve let Simon take him against the floor of the old barn. But Simon didn’t. He just kissed him until too much time had passed.
Johnny found himself on the floor of the barn, the dragon pressing him down. The place started to feel warm and he smelled burning hay. He shoved Simon back to see that he was in fact burning the hay around Johnny’s head. Luckily, it was very careful and controlled.
“Sorry. Forgot to control it.”
Johnny flushed brightly, watching Simon just breath. Every exhale meant a little bit of smoke came out of his nose and muddying the air between them even more. He kissed him again. Couldn’t help himself.
They kept kissing until Johnny needed to leave. As he was pulling away, Simon still kept following and kissing him. His lips, his jaw, his fingers.
“I’ll be back tomorrow.”
Simon’s eyes smoldered through him. Burned him alive. “Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.”
The farmhouse was empty.
Johnny stood in the door, watching the empty home. Simon was probably just hunting.
He sat at the front of it, reimagining the kiss over and over again. He kept thinking about it all night.
Night fell.
It fell and Simon wasn’t there.
Johnny kept waiting. He just kept waiting.
Don’t cry.
Just don’t cry yet.
Johnny heard his knights find him.
He started crying.
His body hurt. He didn’t want to look at the ground in case his heart was there. Blood smeared on the ground.
Had Simon ripped it out when he left? Or did Johnny when he offered it to Simon?
Naively. Horribly. He just offered it to a God and expected that God to look at him and think he was worthy of his attentions. His knights brought him home and he left his heart in that farmhouse.
#johnny soap mactavish#captain john price#ghostsoap#soapghost#simon ghost riley#soap cod#cod mw2#ghost cod#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty modern warfare ii
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Hello! I thought I would share a snippet of my WIP and hope that some nice reactions gets my butt into gear to finish the fourth chapter so I can finally post the first chapter (I want to be reasonably ahead before I do).
Anywho, I was tagged by @paperstorm
TK opens his mouth, and he doesn’t even know what he’s going to say until the words are leaving his lips. “I don’t want to be here.” “And that’s the first thing we’re going to work on, you need to want to stay clean and that means realizing this is the best place for you.” He shakes his head. “I don’t mean rehab; I mean in Austin.” Dr. Z sits back in her chair, a satisfied look on her face. “Because of your dad?” TK’s hands start to shake, and he turns them into fists to stop the tremor, but it only causes it to travel up his arms. “Not my dad,” he finally whispers. “Then who?” His teeth grind together as he tries to keep the memories at bay. “I can’t talk about it.” “You’re gonna have to do better than that.” “You don’t get it. I can’t talk about it,” he croaks. “I haven’t—I’ve had a lid on it since I was seventeen, I don’t know what will happen if I take it off.” “You know what will happen if you don’t,” the doctor responds. A lone tear drops from the corner of his eyelid, and he slaps it away before it can crest the apple of his cheek. “I could ignore it in New York. No one knew, not even my mom. I didn’t have to talk about it because I could pretend it didn’t happen. I can’t ignore it here, it’s real, and it’s ruined because I ruined it. I—” he stops with a shake of his head. Dr. Z nods slowly. “Mhm, so it’s safe to assume this thing that happened… happened here in Austin?” When he says nothing, she goes on. “TK, I can’t help until I know what happened.” TK stands before she can keep pushing. “I can’t do this.” Surprisingly, she doesn’t try to stop him. “Whatever it is, TK,” she says as he reaches the doorknob, “you’re not going to stay clean until you deal with it. It doesn’t matter how bad you think it is, I can help you through it.” “That’s where you’re wrong, Doc,” TK rasps, his forehead pressing against the coolness of the door. “It isn’t that it was bad. It’s that it was so good I can’t stomach to even think about how happy I was, and what I’ve been running from this whole time.” “Running from what?” TK’s eyes squeeze shut as he forces himself to breathe. “Him.”
And there it is :) hope you all like it/want to read when I post!
I don't know who to tag because the people I know who write that I've spoken with were already tagged and shared.
Soooo open tag? and I guess I'll tag the people who reblogged my seven sentence sunday. I don't really know how all this works. haha
@strandnreyes @welcometololaland @lightningboltreader @ironheartwriter @carlos-in-glasses @liminalmemories21 @tellmegoodbye @sugdenlovesdingle
(if you want tagged to be notified of future fic stull lemme know)
#911 lone star#tarlos#tk strand#carlos reyes#fanfiction#wip wednesday#i thought i would be happy by now
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WIP - Nothing more than codes and digits (let's add to it)
Since it's new years eve, I want to share what was supposed to be my third title for the Treebark Title Swap 2024, but I ran out of time for finishing it and since then it's been sitting in my WIP document. It's my own title I stole so I didn't feel bad for not finishing it.
I aim to actually finish it, but wanted to share what I got so far since I do like what I've written. Just don't mind all the notes in the brackets, you're getting everything here xD
Words: 6.7k Characters: Ren, Martyn, Doc, Tango Tags: datastream defender lore, C.H.E.S.T is evil, it's taking place in the future (at minimum 80 years after pirates smp ended), androids, memorials, brief mention of assissted suicide, pre-relationship treebark, spring is martyn, despite what martyn believes it is the real world, very much utopia
Summary: Having been one of the earliest people "rescued" from the datastream, Ren has helped a lot of people to get used to their new bodies and the new sociaty. Some has trusted him more, some has trusted him less, and Ren can't fault anyone for that.
Spring is proving to be the most distrustful person Ren has met yet.
A whistle from the kettle echoes through the apartment, and it brings Ren out of the drowsiness that always clings to him when he starts up for the day, just enough for him to yawn and stretch before detangling himself from the blanket.
It’s a slow start, really, it takes a good 15 minutes before Ren is finally on his feet, body awake enough to not move in slow motion.
He probably should ask Doc to take a look at him, it’s been a while since the last check up.
He files the thought to his to-do-later list, and instead focuses on his normal morning routine. Remove the still whistling kettle from the stove, take out a couple of bags of nutrients for his plants and mix it with the still hot but cooling water, throw the binder and tablet into his work bag, ignore any paper that doesn’t stick to the binder, and walk around to water the plants with the now cool mixture.
A small orb appears in the corner of Ren’s eyes, and as he looks at it, it turns into a small holographic image of Xisuma, but instead of his voice coming through, it’s a generic robotic voice that reads up the message.
“I’ll be running late, can you drop by the coffee shop on your way in? Thanks.”
Ren chuckles, and shakes his head at the message.
“Reply,” he says and the holograph changes into himself with a speech bubble beside it. “Sure thing, dude, I’ll get the usual. Don’t fall asleep on the bus again. End reply.”
He watches as the speech bubble gets folded into a letter before disappearing together with the holograph. No matter how many years have passed, he still finds it fascinating to watch the small avatars come and go.
Shaking his head, Ren focuses back on his task. He waters the final plant and hurries back to his bedroom to get properly dressed, since he’ll not only take a detour, but also open the museum apparently, he needed to get a move on.
He’s still buttoning up his shirt as he walks out of the apartment, work bag hanging over his shoulder, and the door locks behind him with a soft click.
[small transition for traveling? ]
The coffee shop is busy when Ren arrives, and he flicks an ear backwards in annoyance. Of course he succeeds in hitting rush hour for the morning travelers. Not that he has much of a choice, he realizes, with Xisuma being so late with his request. Normally the director would know way earlier if he was about to run late, but Ren guesses that today must’ve been an emergency. Or he had stayed up way too late again and slept in.
As Ren joins the queue, he decides that that’s what happened.
Surprisingly the line goes by fast and it doesn’t take long until the cashier is looking at Ren expectantly.
“One Cream Coffee and one Radiator to go, please,” he says as he lifts up his wrist, a small section of it lightning up. The cashier hums as they tap on the screen in front of them before lifting the other hand, holding a small square thing above Ren’s wrist. It beeps once and the cashier brings back the device.
“5 minutes,” they say, and waves Ren to move out of the queue. Ren does as instructed and watches the people move around him as he’s waiting for the drinks. [description of humans and androids? Ren receives the drinks, one blue, mentions of him passing breakfast at home?]
The walk from the coffee shop to the museum isn’t a long one, the perks of working in the city center, but it’s long enough for Ren to feel like he properly got to stretch his legs out and having sipped enough of his drink for a third to be gone.
It’s later than it’s supposed to be when Ren finally reaches the employer door to the museum, a showing of his wrists makes the door beep and open, letting him inside.
The building is silent at this time in the morning, even with Ren’s enhanced hearing. Or it usually is, but now one of his ears twist as he hears a high pitched sound from a light somewhere close by, no doubt about to go out during the day. Which he would have to replace.
Ren sighs heavily, and heads towards Xisuma’s office to drop off his coffee in the heat preserving container, before he goes to his own while downing his the rest of his drink.
The door to his office unlocks when he puts his hand on the handle, and opens without a complaint, and Ren is greeted by the sight of papers covering the floor.
Right. The research. He’d forgotten about that, honestly.
Luckily it’s only printouts of different texts that he was trying to decipher, so he’s not exactly careful as he walks over to his desk to put down his back and the now empty cup. He would start cleaning the room up normally, but since Xisuma was running late, and it would just be the two of them today, so not only did he have to change that light bulb, but also prepare the museum to be opened.
Ren isn’t sure if he’s happy or not that he can’t get headaches anymore.
He ignores the chaos that is his office, even adding a little bit more to the pile on the floor by pushing down a couple of more papers from the desk, and heads back out to start preparing the building.
He’s barely closed the door behind him when the small white orb appears in the corner of his eyes again, this time shifting into a goat when he gives it his attention. Instead of it starting to read up a message, the robotic voice let him know it’s an incoming call.
“Answer,” Ren says, and the goat shifts into the upper half of Doc.
“Good morning, Ren,” Doc says, one hand raised in a greeting.
Ren gives him a big smile. “Doc, my dude! Was thinking of you this morning! My body seems slower than usual in the mornings, think you can take a look?” He continues on his way towards the ground keeper’s office, Doc’s hologram floating beside him.
Doc blinks, and looks down into something in his hands. “Perhaps next month then. Been a couple of years since your last check up.” Then he shakes his head. “But that’s not why I called. Can you come by the lab next monday?”
It makes Ren pause in his step, and he looks properly at Doc again. “Have you found-”
“Yes,” Doc cuts him off, “another prisoner. Tango and I are setting up a body for them, and it should be done by the weekend, but I know you like to have your weekends off.”
Ren continues his path to the ground keeper’s office, but with quicker steps than before. “I want to be there when you wake them up, you know this, dude. Got any name on them?”
“No.”
The heavy sigh that accompanies the words makes Ren’s artificial heart sink as he steps into his destination. “Oh.”
“The disk was named though.” And… That’s unusual.
Ren pushes the buttons in the office to activate the cleaning robots, and doesn’t pay enough attention to the screens to see if they’ve been turned on properly. “That makes it sound like it’s not numbered,” he says as he steps out of the room, and continues down the hallway.
“It was titled Spring. Does it ring a bell?” Doc asks, and Ren wishes that it did.
“Hasn’t Tango looked through the police reports on the whole ordeal?”
“He has, and found nothing. But you’re the history expert on C.H.E.S.T, so figured it was worth asking,” Doc says, waving a clipboard around.
Ren frowns, and his ears lay down flat against his skull, and gets behind the front desk. “I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’ve never heard of something called Spring before. I’ll make a deep dive though, see if I can find anything.”
“Appreciated, Ren. I’ll send a message when it’s decided on when we’ll wake them up. Bye,” Doc says, and Ren says his own goodbye before the hologram of Doc turns into a white dot again.
Well. At least now Ren knows what he will spend his free time on til monday arrives.
With thoughts focused on the upcoming research, Ren hurries through the preparation of the museum’s opening for the day.
-----
[small scene that transition into the lab]
It’s easy to find the room where Doc and Tango would wake the prisoner[another name?] up, Ren has been here plenty of times already, and Ren clutches his bag closer to him. [add that he’s carrying a bag of drinks with him]
He’s honestly excited, it’s been a few years since they last discovered a disk that wasn’t broken.
Ren pushes the door leading to the viewing room open, and pauses as he only sees Tango in the room, sitting in front of the big window, and looking through it.
Tango glances away from the window, and smiles when Ren meets his eyes. “Ren! Good to see you, come on in!”
Ren makes sure to close the door behind him, glancing through the window. It’s a view of a spacious room, a wardrobe in one corner, a tv on the wall next to it, and on the opposite is a bed with a table beside it. A bed currently occupied by a generic looking android body that shouldn’t be up and moving, but obviously is. Beside the bed is Doc sitting with a tablet in his hands.
“I thought you would wait to wake them up until I arrived,” Ren says with a pout, ears pressed down against his skull.
Tango shrugs. “We planned to, but when we were preparing the body and inserted the disk, they woke themselves up,” he says, and looks back to the scene in front of them.
The android body is holding a tablet of their own, their head tilted slightly as they’re listening to what Doc is saying.
“That’s unusual. How many years has it been since that happened?” Ren asks as he opens up the paperbag with the drinks. He takes the smallest one out, and hands it to Tango.
Tango takes it, pops out the straw, and takes a sip. “Not in the years I’ve been working here. I think it has happened three times now in total?”
“Four,” Ren corrects as he digs out a larger drink, and puts it on the table behind Tango. “I mean, if you’re counting this dude too.” After digging out a small package of milk and making sure there’s only two drinks left in the bag, Ren returns to Tango’s side.
Tango snorts. “Why are you asking me if you remember that?”
“Years tend to float together after a while, the amount of times it happens are easier to remember,” Ren says with a shrug, before looking towards the second door on the other side of the room. “I’ll head down, and save the poor fella from Doc’s technical ramblings,” he says as he moves towards the door.
Tango giggles behind him. “Sure, old man. Remember to ask Doc for an upgrade in your cache at the next check up!” he shouts behind Ren. Ren just shakes his head as he goes through the door, and down the stairs.
Doc’s voice comes through the moment Ren opens up the door downstairs.
“-o problem at all- oh. Hello, Ren,” Doc says as Ren walks into the room, putting the tablet down into his lap. The android turns their head with slightly narrowed eyes, and Ren gives them both his best smile.
“Hi, dudes! Everything good?” he says as he walks up to the bed. The android is still looking wary, but Ren looks at Doc as Doc nods.
“I’ve given him the rundown of his new body, including a tablet for customization requests that’s not the generic type,” he says, and taps a [tablet pen?] against his own tablet. “Now I need to check more how his fine motor control is working, to make sure everything is in order, and then I need to-”
Ren chuckles. “I’m gonna stop you right there, bud, but one step at a time, yeah? We don’t need to overload his brain right at this moment,” he says as he pats Doc on the shoulder, and gives the android another smile.
“That… would be appreciated,” the android says as he looks between the two.
“With that approval-” Ren begins as he grins at Doc, “-I’m sending you off to the break room. I’ve brought a chocolate[other drink?] to you, it’s up with Tango in the room.”
Doc nods, and gives Ren a smile. “Thank you. I’ll be back later, whenever you’re ready to learn more about how your body functions,” Doc says, and with that he raises up from the chair, and walks through the door Ren had arrived from.
Ren puts all his focus on the patient, and gives him a smile. “Apologies for just switching like this, but Doc tends to get into the technical stuff immediately, and most people find it overwhelming,” he says, and fishes up a third, blue drink from the paper bag as he walks closer to the android.
The android looks between Ren and the drink he’s holding out.
“It’s a drink called ‘Radiator’. It’s a fluid that people like you and me need to have a functioning body, and this one is made into a drink so we can mimic drinking. It’s calming for some people,” Ren explains, and watches as the android slowly takes it into his hands.
Ren gives him a smile when he does take it before he walks over to the chair Doc left, and digs out the fourth and final drink out of the paperbag. He discards the bag beside the chair, and hangs his work bag over the backrest before sitting down.
The patient is looking hesitant at the drink, and Ren knows how weird it is in the beginning, so he takes a gulp out of his own Radiator.
“You said people like us?” the android asks when Ren lowers his drink, and is now obviously glancing at Ren’s ears.
“Yep! People stuffed into an android body,” Ren says, and taps one of his ears, it flicking out of range at the touch, since it has the android’s attention. “These babies are custom made. Had human ears for a good amount of years, until Doc figured out a way to customize bodies without risking us shutting down. Real genius that man!”
The android frowns, and looks down at his drink in his lap.
“Had a tail for a while too, but let me tell you, not worth it! Not only do you have to make custom clothes, especially pants, but they wear[?] out too fast. As good as I am at repairing them myself, there’s only so many times a man has patient to repair his own pants per month,” Ren continues, chuckling at the memory. Yeah, he had to repair way too many pants.
The room falls into silence, just for a moment, as Ren looks at the android and the android is still looking at his drink. The tablet the android had been messing around with earlier is laying in his lap.
“This is a lot, I know,” Ren says with a soft voice, and the android glances up. “If you have any questions, go ahead. Kinda why I’m here, being the social dude so Doc and Tango can focus on making sure your body is functioning correctly.”
The android seems to think for a moment before he lifts up his head properly.
“The doctor said your name was Ren?”
Ren slams a hand on his forehead, and an ear flicks in annoyance. “Introduction is a thing, yes,” he says as he lets the hand fall back down into his lap, properly gripping his drink again. He gives the android a smile.
“Yeah, name’s Ren, he/him, I’m an ex-employee of C.H.E.S.T-”
The difference between normal androids and people with an android body is really fascinating if you ask Ren. Androids often just mimic expressions that humans make in certain situations, while the people have the mini[miniture? miniluscus?] expression change that androids seem incapable to mimic, despite having the same built body. And this is a perfect example of it.
Because the reaction is instantaneous.
Deep rooted fear flashes across the android’s face, as well as his body going rigid, but it’s there barely a second before the android’s face is neutral once again, although his back is much straighter than before.
It tells Ren that this person has dealt with C.H.E.S.T before.[not happy with this line, find alternatives]
Ren clears his throat, and pretends that he didn’t see it. “-I worked in the public and civilian sector, but when I started to investigate the disappearance of some of my colleagues, I ended up as one of their victims as well. They stuffed me into a digital disk, and stayed there until I got woken up by Doc. Don’t remember much of the time I spent being digital that way. Today I work for the Hermit Museum, working on preserving the memories of all of C.H.E.S.T’s victims, giving them a memorial for those we haven’t been able to find and give a new chance on life, as well as making sure that all of C.H.E.S.T’s crimes is known to the world.”
The android seems to still be on guard, and Ren doesn’t blame him. So Ren takes a sip of his drink before giving the android his best smile.
“Before I ask you your name, or any question for that matter, know that you don’t have to answer them. As much as I would love to know who you are, you’re entitled to keep any information to yourself,” he says in hopes to make the man relax just a little bit at least.
The man nods, and makes no attempt to introduce himself.
The next smile Ren gives him is softer. “Is there something I can call you the very least? Can’t call you dude or android the whole time.”
Again, the man doesn’t attempt to speak.
Ren’s shoulders slump forward a bit as his ears twist backwards. “Okay then. I’ll call you Spring until you’ve given me something else to call you,” he says, and watches how the man reacts to the name. There’s no more reaction other than him watching Ren cautiously.
“So. That’s me. Any questions?”
Spring is silent, his mouth in a thigh line, and then-
“I want to be alone.”
Ren sighs, and leans back in the chair, almost tipping it over. “Sorry dude, no can do. Until Doc and Tango have made sure your body is functioning well, and you need an identification number in order to be able to move around in society without getting, like, arrested, you need to have someone with you.”
Spring frowns at that, and stares into his lap again, drink still not touched and tablet seemingly forgotten.
And Ren knows that this feels invasive, especially when you don’t trust the ones who're supposed to look after you. But it’s a rule put in place for a very good reason.
“But,” Ren continues after a little bit of silence, “I can leave the room.”
Spring looks up, confusion written all over his face.
Ren gestures towards the window close to the ceiling, and Spring follows his hand until he sees it. And goes stiff again as he sees Tango and Doc sitting by the window, not looking into it but having their backs to it, seemingly having a conversation between the two of them.
“This room has no cameras, no microphones, no motion detectors. It’s completely soundproof. The only thing that can monitor you is if someone sits behind that glass, and we will until we’re sure your body won’t suddenly break down on you.”
Spring looks back to Ren, and Ren tries to give him a reassuring smile, but it probably ends up looking more sad than anything.
“We won’t keep this strict watch for long, tops two weeks if your body is having troubles. And after you’ve gotten your identification number, you’re free to go wherever. But we want to help you, we really do. We can get you in touch with a therapist, arrange for you to have an apartment, help you get a stable life. Just-” Ren takes a deep breath, hands clenching around his own forgotten drink, “-let us know if you don’t want life anymore. We- no, I- want to bury you in that case. You deserve a funeral, however you want it. You, and your story, deserve to be remembered.”
As excited Ren always is to meet someone new, this is the hardest part of helping them into this modern world.[?]
Offer them a chance to actually die, not simply being suspended in an empty dataspace.
It’s still better than finding out that they ended it by themselves.
Spring is giving Ren a strange look, and to be fair, it is strange to offer to bury someone. Ren doesn’t blame him for it.
“I-” Spring starts, but cuts off himself. He shakes his head and Ren tilts his head to the side, watching as Spring comes to a conclusion.
“I would like to be alone,” Spring repeats, and Ren nods. Without much further aboe[?], Ren gets up from his chair, pulling his work bag over his shoulder with his free hand, and walks over to the door.
But there he pauses, and looks over his shoulder at Spring.
“By the way. Doc and Tango has never been associated with C.H.E.S.T, neither of them was even born when that organization got busted. Even if you don’t trust me, you can trust them.” With that, Ren leaves the room.
“You good?” Tango asks when Ren gets up into the viewing room, and all Ren can do is to let out a deep sigh.
“He got real bad trauma with C.H.E.S.T,” Ren says as he sits down by a chair furthest from the window. While he can’t leave, he will at least try to respect Spring’s privacy when Doc and Tango aren't there to keep watch.
Doc hums, and both he and Tango look through the window. “Isn’t surprising. We’ll take it slow then, try to give him as much privacy as we can,” Doc says as he tips his cup back, and then frowns as he removes it from his face. “Empty,” he grumbles, and places it on the floor.
“I’ll try to get his identification number as soon as possible, should get it at the end of the week if I pull the right strings,” Tango says with a nod.
Ren tunes out his two friends as they talk and plan how to go forward this coming week.
Seems like honesty straight out of the bag wasn’t the way to go this time. But then again, it’s hard to know what to do when you don’t know who will be waking up.
With another sigh, Ren takes a big gulp of his own drink. He’ll just keep watch from a distance then, and help Doc and Tango out whenever they need. It’s not the first time they had to work like this, nor will it be the last.
But he does wish that he would be able to help Spring better than this.
---
A week and a half. That’s what it takes until everything starts to fall into place.
It takes about a week for Doc to calibrate Spring’s body to not stumble when he moves too fast, and to give Spring a general look[?]. And then they just had to wait for the identification number, which Tango pushed hard for.
Ren had visited and invited Spring out for walks whenever Doc and Tango had allowed it, and he had pretended not to see when Spring was looking around and taking in their surroundings in more than just fascination with the scenery. These walks always felt a bit bittersweet to Ren, since Spring never seemed to relax during it, nor afterwards. In all honesty, it probably had to do with Ren himself, which he doesn’t blame Spring for.
But hopefully today would be different.
Ren runs a hand through his hair, and sighs heavily. The plan for today was to take Spring to the museum, both to show him how to use public transportation and how to navigate around the money system. He hopes everything goes well.
Steeling his nerves, Ren pushes open the door to Spring’s room, and smiles at the man when he looks up.
Unlike the first time Ren saw Spring, Spring now looked like an actual human. Instead of looking like a generic android, he now had blond hair pulled into a small ponytail, blue eyes and pale skin, with a hoodie over his torso and jeans on his legs.
“Hey there, Spring!” Ren says as he walks closer to the bed where Spring is sitting, fiddling with a book. Ren gives him a smile, but per usual Spring stays silent and warily watches Ren.
“I have good news for you. Your identification number should arrive very shortly, and thus we shall venture out further than the gardens today!”
Spring raises an eyebrow. “What?”
Ren grins, and pets his shoulder bag. “We’re heading to the museum today! You need to know how to transfer money as you soon will be released from here, and it’s easier if I just show you. And it will be nice to be outside this place, yes?”
That catches Spring’s attention, and he puts down the book on the nightstand. “So… we’re going to the museum so you can show me how to pay?”
“And to show you how society works [fix this?]
Ren glances over his shoulder at Spring, who was looking everywhere but at Ren. There’s a lot to see, considering that this is the first time they’ve been so far away from the facility, so Ren is just happy that Spring is still following him and not trying to bolt the moment he could like Ren thought he would.
There’s so much Ren wants to ask the man, but he bites his tongue as he focuses his eyes forward on the street ahead of them.
Or rather, the opening of the buildings and the street which gives space to a big open area with a lot of different statues lingering about.
“The museum is just ahead,” Ren says with a grin as he speeds up just a bit. As much as he loves helping people out, he has missed the museum and working on his own projects. But he’ll get back to them soon enough, Spring just needed his identification number after all before getting released.
“That’s. A lot of statues,” Spring says, and Ren slows down to walk beside Spring instead of ahead of him. It earns Ren a sideways glance.
“Eyup! The classic ones are on the left,” Ren says as he motions in front of them. “Not easy to see from this angle, I realize. Come on, we’ll see them better when we get on the main path!” Without thinking, Ren grabs Spring’s arm in excitement to drag him with him, but stops when Spring pulls back his arm just as quickly as Ren had grabbed it.
Ren looks back at Spring who’s staring at him with a blank look, arm held close.
“Oh, uh. Sorry, I forgot myself,” Ren says, ears pressed flat backwards in embarrassment.
Spring moves his eyes from Ren to look at something behind Ren, face just as blank as before. “You’re excited for the museum?” He asks, voice carefully [blank? other word]
Ren nods, and motions towards the statue garden in an invitation to start walking again. “Yes,” he begins as Spring starts moving, and he joins Spring, “how can I not be? It’s a great workplace, I have wonderful colleagues and it gives me the best chance to just learn about history! I always love showing off what we have.”
There’s a moment of silence before Spring speaks again. “I thought you worked at the facility?” [check when ren introduces himself]
“Not really,” Ren hums, steering the two of them towards the street that runs in the middle of the statue garden. As they get closer, it becomes more obvious that there are two different sections of statues.
“I mean, I help Doc and Tango out with like. Social stuff like this. Helping people get back into society. But that doesn’t exactly happen enough to be an actual job.” Ren shakes his head. “I’m a [curator?] and researcher at [hermit museum?]. If you want we can go past my exhibition, but honestly, that might not be a good idea.”
Spring glances at Ren before looking in front of them, the two finally entering the main street leading to the museum, statues on both sides of them.
“How come?”
“[I research the damage C.H.E.S.T has done to society and its victims,” Ren says, not reminding Spring that he had already told him this when he introduced himself.]
Spring stays silent, and Ren lest him digest what he just told him, before clearing his throat, and motioning to the left.
“But, yes, the classics! They are just copies of the originals of course, but it’s nice to have something more physical to look at as the guide books tell you about them, rather than a hologram,” Ren says with a grin, and it seems to snap Spring out of his head.
Then Ren motions towards the right. “And that’s modern art. Statues. Eh, yeah, not really my department, but if we bump into Xisuma[? check how many i wrote works here] he will happily tell you all about it. There’s more modern art inside, and more history stuff too.”
Spring nods, but stays silent until they reach the doors of the museum which has been propped open to let the cool summer winds into the building.
Ren waves at the android sitting at the reception desk, who only tilt its head in acknowledgement to his presence, but it gives Spring a smile when it notices him.
“Hi, and welcome to [hermit museum]. Would you like a map, or a recommendation on where to go?” It says, voice a tad flat.
“Oh great, need to tell [groundkeeper] that they need to fix up Lucy’s voice again,” Ren says with a sigh before turning to Spring who has stopped by the desk, hand stretched out for the map that he was offered.
“You don’t need the map if you don’t want it,” Ren says as Spring grabs it, before shrugging when Spring gives him a raised eyebrow. “Again, I work here, I know this museum almost better than Xisuma, and he’s the owner of the place.”
“I think I’ll take it anyway,” Spring mumbles, and tucks it into his hoodie.
“Alright,” Ren says, one ear flicking backwards before turning back. “So, where do you want to start? It’s a big place, and I’ll show you how to interact and activate the holograms, though I’m sure Tango has already given you that lesson.”
Ren smiles as Spring looks at him, and waits patiently as Spring brings out the map to look at instead of asking Ren what places there are.
“Uh. What about here?” Spring says as he points at his map, and Ren leans over to take a look at it.
“Ah,” Ren says with a grin, “the [department]. That’ll be fun. Now! On our way!” This time he refrains from grabbing Spring, and Spring follows after a brief moment just looking at Ren. Again, Ren is very excited.
Two hours goes by, in which more visitors arrived, but it was still a far cry from being crowded. Spring had been looking at some of the holograms, but nothing had really captured his interest for long, so Ren had continued to guide him through the building in hopes that Spring would find something.
Ren is walking backwards, facing Spring, as he talks about [ämne], having entered his guide mode.
He doesn’t keep track of where Spring’s eyes wander, so when Spring suddenly stops and fixates his gaze in one spot, it takes a moment for Ren to remember where in the building they are.
Ren slows to a stop, and glances towards the big, open archway which reveals some big plaques[?] with a lot of text and pictures on them.
The C.H.E.S.T exhibition.
Ren looks back at Spring who has not looked away from the archway, obviously having seen one of the plaques that has the words C.H.E.S.T on it.
“You want to go and take a look?” Ren says with a soft voice, and to his surprise, Spring nods and doesn’t wait for Ren to move, instead taking the lead properly for the first time this day. Ren follows and stays silent as Spring slowly walks into the exhibition, head constantly turning as if he’s trying to take in everything at once.
Spring stops at the closet plaque, and Ren slides up beside him.
“This part is mostly information about C.H.E.S.T. About who they were, their public front and shadow business, how they were able to trick the public, how it got discovered and its downfall,” Ren says, eyes staring at the C.H.E.S.T logo. Spring glances at him.
“Despite that it’s been [50 years?], there’s a lot we don’t know about this organization. I’m the main researcher on it around here, as the police stopped investigating some years ago, and other people who are researching this are doing so in other countries.” Ren cast his eyes down to the floor, trying to sort his thoughts. He doesn’t want to overwhelm Spring with all of this.
Spring turns his head around, taking in more of the room, before he looks back to the plaque in front of them. Then he reaches out to touch the button that activates the personal hologram.
Ren stays silent as Spring listens to the private hologram, and he follows him when Spring moves to the next.
They spend longer time in here than in any other exhibition. Spring stops at every plaque, and Ren lets him, ready to answer any questions Spring has. [allow ren to talk abt the lore i’ve come up with?]
But Spring doesn’t ask him anything. He simply watches and listens to the holograms, and then he moves on.
Ren doesn’t stop him until they start getting close to a smaller, but more decorated archway.
“Spring,” he says as he holds his hand up, stopping them both. Ren gives him a [soft?] look before motioning towards the archway. “I know you want to listen to the holograms but. Through that archway is the memorial. For all the victims of C.H.E.S.T. And since this will be personal for both you and me, I would like to talk about them,” he continues, bowing his head down. When he looks back up, Spring has a small frown on his face.
“You’re a C.H.E.S.T employee,” he says, and with a tone that indicates that he doesn’t think Ren should be allowed to.
“Ex-employee. And I worked in the public sector, not knowing what was going on.” Ren raises a hand to his own hand, and taps one of his ears that flicks away from the touch. “I’m as much of an android as you. I know you don’t trust me, but please. This is the way I can show these people respect. Please let me talk about them.”
Many emotions seem to cross Spring’s face, until eventually he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens his eyes, he nods.
“Okay.”
Ren smiles as he straighteners his back. “Thank you,” he says, and takes a step to the side. He motions towards the archway. “Let’s begin.”
Spring takes the lead, but Ren is quick to end up walking beside him.
“These people,” Ren begins as they enter the memorial area, “are people who C.H.E.S.T have one way or another killed. Be it by mercanaries, tasked to take down who they consider enemies, or being forced into the datastream.”
It’s easy for Ren to slip into his [curator] role, and to forget why they’re here to begin with.
“[names] are some of the last victims that C.H.E.S.T caused[?] before the police and government started to crack down on them. In fact, most people here in the beginning section are later victims. Many of which were straight up killed as C.H.E.S.T tried to figure out who had betrayed them, not quite getting that there were too many people who were asking questions at this point. But there were quite a few that they sent into the datastream as well,” Ren says as he continues to slowly walk down the rows of plaques with pictures of different faces.
He stops as Martyn stops by a plaque and just looks at it.
“People who ended up in the datastream are people who we might be able to recover, as long as their data hasn’t been corrupted. Sadly it’s a too common recurrence that the data chips they reside in have been broken or rendered useless, so these are all we have left of them.” Ren looks ahead of them, eyes distant as he remembers waking up for the first time since being put in the datastream.
“Those who we’ve found to still be uncorrupted, we’ve given an android body and given a chance at life again. Most do not wish to be contacted, so please refrain from asking.”
Spring lets out a huff beside him, and Ren gives him a smile. “Apologize, there’s been a lot of people who ask to speak with them, so it just slipped out. Anyway.”
Spring shakes his head, and starts to walk down the row again, to which Ren falls in line with.
[reading up a few names?]
“As said, most people in this part were killed, and this ‘late stage’ started roughly 5 years before C.H.E.S.T was shut down,” Ren says, hands clasped behind his back. “Of course, that’s the official shut down. The police needed to hunt down underground sections for years after, but at least C.H.E.S.T didn’t have control of the public anymore.”
They cross a line on the floor, and Ren unclasps his hands and motions to the closest plaque, now sporting a different color in the background. “These people are more from the ‘middle stage’, for lack of better words, and many of them ended up in the datastream. We know this thanks to documents C.H.E.S.T kept, and we have found plenty of ‘resting chips’ as we have come to call them. Again, most of these are sadly corrupted, so a burial is all we have been able to give them.”
[more names? more walking around?]
As the room opens up [spreading?] into different paths for showing more plaques, Ren takes the lead, looking towards a wall, and slightly raised platform.
“These people,” Ren says as he comes to a halt in front of the display, “were a part of a group[name?] that tried to fight and stop C.H.E.S.T. It was created very early on, and was able to fight off C.H.E.S.T for a good amount of time, but sadly the targeted attacks became more and more intense. Too soon, many of these people disappeared.”
Ren lets his eyes trail over one picture at a time. “[name]. Viktor ‘Doc’ [name]. Martyn Littlewood. [name]. People who, at the time, just vanished to never be seen again.”
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this is like the 75blr’s easter
what the hell have i been up to you might ask? well i bought plane tickets to england and am planning a trip during february. yes i will be at a 75 concert. yes i will meet some bffs. (me and wrongendofurcigarette in a bunk bed in manc we love to see it!!) i quit my job after two years and a half of being at the bakery. it will Hopefully stick and i won’t be so horrendously broke after my trip that i’ll need to crawl back to them. on a tragic note, my grandpa died and kind of threw our whole lives upside down as my grandma is very sick and it’s kind of impossible to have access to the money to take care of her. i said goodbye to my best friend who is taking a semester abroad, i won’t see her for five months. i updated my instagram after having the same update since 2019. i held a funeral for it today<3 my galatea matty also broke up with his gf today, though has left a door open to go back to her if i say no. if i’m drunk enough i might see him today. i deleted tumblr. i’ve abandoned pfms.
i assume this is why you’re really reading this update. yes, unfortunately, i have been so incredibly unmotivated to write pfms5 for the past six months that i couldn’t bring myself to even dream of continuing it. i have opened the google doc a never ending amount of times, and each of them i would stare at the blank document and exit, or write a few words and hate them and delete. it started bringing such unhappiness that i just didn’t feel like finishing it, and once i realized the thought of having it incomplete didn’t make me want to die, even my usual completist mindset couldn’t force me to finish anything.
i still hope that i’ll one day finish pfms because it’s genuinely a story that i love and want to tell and that i know exactly how it’ll go, but it’s in the way people dream of becoming billionaires. that’s probably not gonna happen, jerry, so start dreaming a back-up plan. until some miracle happens, pfms5 is abandoned and i am Officialy Retired.
i love you all. i originally planned to quiet quit tumblr but then i realized i wanted to still have access to this account when i felt like it😭
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Commissions are OPEN
Do you like Fire Emblem, gay women, supporting artists, or just really enjoy my work?
Because I’m on VGen now, and I need your help to get verified!
Until I’m verified the only method of transaction available to me is paypal, which severely limits what I can write, not the mention I don’t trust that company within a hundred meters of my livelihood.
This is however a necessary step towards me actually making a living doing this hobby that I adore, and I don’t mind writing sfw fics too.
Thus you are all invited to the Safics… something, it’s an event and I have no idea what to name it.
The way this will work is that I’ll be opening a batch of safe for work commission slots on VGen for a really low price, and if commissioning artists isn’t your thing you can still help out by sharing or reposting this announcement to increase its reach!
These commissions are likely some of the cheapest I’ll ever offer, and for the price-to-word ratio they will probably be far and above the best deal I’ll give outside of other events like this: I am offering 750-1,000 words, fully edited, for $10 USD. The fics could also potentially be longer if they click with me and I get inspired! In that case, there would be no extra cost associated with the commission despite the total word count surpassing 1,000 words.
That’s 75-100 words for every dollar you spend, and that’s not even factoring in the time spent proofreading and editing!
Because of the nature of this being a larger batch of commissions it may take a bit of time to get all off them done, but I promise to keep my prospective clients updated on their fics progress (including letting them know when I’ve started it) so long as VGen offers me the tools to do so, which I’m sure it does.
The current plan is to release four separate batches of three commission slots, but that may fluctuate as the event goes on.
Additionally, how much say you have in the finished product is also completely up to you!
-Do you want to mostly be surprised after giving me your prompt? I’ll do it without any input.
-Do you want to have a big say in the direction of every aspect of the fic? I can share excerpts or even the entire draft at multiple stages to make sure it’s going a direction you approve of, while also gathering feedback and advice from you to help make it as good as possible.
-Do you want a mix of those two options? Because I can do that too.
I have experience with both extremes of the writing process from my pretty extensive work offering free requests on Tumblr, for anons I didn’t really have much choice in the matter but when possible I would dm the requestor to ask how much involvement they wanted, and in some cases even share the entire fic as I was writing it!
Because it’s only ten bucks and I’m sure there are at least some fees attached, payment IS due up front, but if for whatever reason I find myself unable to complete the prompt adequately you’ll receive a full refund AND get to keep a pdf of the work in progress draft.
Making this experience as good as it possibly can be for the both of us is something I strive for, but that does go both ways. Overworking myself super hard and burning at this stage out would be catastrophic, and it is something I’m wary of, so because of that the amount of hours I work in a given day will be capped to help keep my work life balance reasonable.
To put all the information in one place: you will receive 750-1,000 words that amount to a fully edited realization of your prompt created to the best of my abilities, either as a pdf file or a google doc.
I cannot give any concrete information on how long each fic will take to be ready, both because of the fact these are batch commissions and because I’ve never done something quite like this before, but I do promise to be transparent with you and offer a full refund (so long as I’ve not yet started on your fic) if the wait becomes too much.
Batch comm rules:
Requests must be safe for work, no horny and no over the top violence. Trust me, there’s a reason I will stop accepting Paypal payments the moment I am verified.
I retain the right to reject any request for any reason, even something as asinine as not vibing with it. Forcing myself to create something that doesn’t click with me will result in a final product that neither of us will be happy with and you deserve better from a commission than that.
They gotta be gay. Well not exactly, but Safics is my name for a reason, I’m not super interested in writing mlw or mlm fics, I am completely on board with nblw though. This rule applies much less to platonic fics but I do generally prefer to write stories that are not about men. Also it should go without saying but trans women ARE women and I am completely comfortable writing them, in fact I actually enjoy it!
Because I am underselling myself here tips are appreciated if you really enjoy your fic, but they are in no way necessary much less expected. Positive reviews would be appreciated as well, perhaps even more-so since those are one of the requirements to get verified.
vgen.co/Safics
#commisions open#please ignore any typos or run on sentences in this announcement#I promise to get enough sleep to write coherently before actually working on anyones comms#It hasn't happened yet though
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